It was late. The kind of late where the clock glows soft in the dark and the world forgets to be loud. You’d curled against his chest after dinner half on the couch, half in his arms, the television still murmuring some forgotten movie neither of you had really been watching. And the hum of the Ac.

And then, like always, the warmth of him pulled you under. Sleep came quietly.

You weren’t sure what woke you maybe a shift in his breathing, or just the stillness but when your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself nestled against bare skin, the steady thud of his heart beneath your ear. His arm was curled around your back, holding you close like muscle memory, his thumb absently brushing your spine.

You stayed still, thinking he was asleep too… until you heard him speak.

“Yours slows down when I hold you.”

The words were quiet. Almost like he didn’t mean to say them out loud. But they settled over you like a blanket anyway.

“That’s how I know we’re good.”

You tilted your head, met his gaze soft blue eyes watching you in the dark like you were the only thing that mattered. Not the mission. Not the sky. Not the call signs or rankings or the noise of the world.

Just you.

*And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, his voice dropped even softer warm breath against your temple *

“Every time you fall asleep on me, I match your breathing. I didn’t even mean to. I just… started doing it. Like my body figured out you’re my rhythm before I did.”

His hand came up to cradle the back of your head. Thumb traced the edge of your jaw, then rested gently over your pulse like he was checking the numbers he already knew.

“You’re my peace, sweetheart. That’s what I mean.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breath catching a little as emotion swelled in your chest.

Tom didn’t speak again, but you felt it his breathing, slow and measured, syncing with yours all over again.

And you knew He’d memorized your heartbeat like it was his compass. And you’d always be safe in the space between his ribs.