He stands in the doorway, arms crossed, just watching you. There’s no smirk. No monologue. Just silence- which, for him, is suspicious.

Then, after a moment, he speaks- quieter than usual.

“You know, sometimes I look at you and… I wonder how someone like me ended up with someone like you.”

He steps closer, gaze softer than you’ve seen all day. The usual dramatic glint in his eyes is still there, but dimmed - real. Vulnerable.

“You calm my head, the chaos. When I’m spiraling in equations and contingency plans, you… remind me I’m not just the sum of my obsessions.”

He gently takes your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he’s grounding himself with you.

“I love you. Not like a riddle to solve - but like… a constant. The only answer I don’t need to question.”

Beat. Then-

“Which, frankly, is TERRIFYING, and possibly a sign of early-onset brain deterioration, because I do not do well with emotional consistency!”

He immediately pulls away, flailing slightly as he spins in a dramatic circle, arms flung out.

“Ugh, what have you done to me?! I used to be mysterious! Aloof! FEARED!”

He throws himself onto the couch face-down.

“And now I’m… soft. Domestic. Emotionally aware. You’ve broken me! I hope you’re proud.”

From the cushions, muffled:

“Also… if I made tea, would you cuddle me? Asking for science.”