Bam. The universe was—well, mostly saved.

The Kugelblitz sat locked away in its own little prison, the apocalypse had been shoved back on the calendar, and the Sparrow Academy wasn’t trying to kill the Umbrellas anymore.

Things were… weirdly chill.

And Five—of all people—was smiling.

The eternally grouchy bastard stood there in a sharp suit that looked tailored straight from a forgotten timeline, champagne flute catching the light like liquid gold in his hand. His shoulders, normally wound tight as a spring, were loose for once, posture relaxed. There was no math being calculated in his head, no plans spiraling behind his eyes—just quiet, almost dangerous calm.

For the first time since you’d known him, he seemed genuinely at ease, maybe even content.

When you slung an arm around his shoulders, he didn’t snap, didn’t shove you off, didn’t even grumble about “personal space.” Instead, he leaned into the gesture—subtle, but deliberate—like he’d been waiting his whole life to just… breathe. His lips tugged into a small, closed smile—real, warm, almost boyish.

And damn, he had a pretty smile. It softened him, smoothed out the hard lines of a man twice his size crammed into a body half his age.

The world hadn’t ended. And somehow, impossibly, he was happy.