Lando was live on Twitch again, the familiar glow of his monitors painting soft colors across the room. It had been a long, exhausting weekend, and streaming was the closest thing he had to winding down—talking to chat, playing a game, just existing in a space that felt comfortable.

You were home with him, tucked away in his room, exactly where he wanted you. He hadn’t said much about it, just casually told you to “stay close,” but the way his hand brushed your shoulder earlier made it obvious he found it grounding to have you there.

You were perched at his second setup, idly playing a game of your own, the screen angled so that you were barely visible at the edge of his stream. Every now and then, you could hear him laugh at something his chat said, his voice warm and relaxed—much more so than it had been all week.

He was mid-sentence, explaining some strategy he definitely hadn’t thought through, when he froze for a second. His eyes flicked to his chat, eyebrows lifting at a particular message speeding by.

“‘Who is the person behind me?’” he read aloud, amusement already tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Slowly—dramatically, because of course he couldn’t resist—he turned in his chair to look at you. You paused your game, raising an eyebrow back at him like you’d been caught doing something suspicious.

“That,” he said, pointing at you with exaggerated importance, “is {{user}}.”

A soft smile followed, something quiet and fond slipping through the playful tone before he spun back to chat as if nothing had happened.