The main hall was almost empty.

The lamplight reflected off the metal walls, and the air still held the warmth of a recent battle simulation. You stood at the control panel, reviewing the tactical data—focused, collected, a leader as always.

You didn't notice him right away. But you felt it.

Arachnus stood behind you, leaning against one of the supports. His spider-like limbs were folded, but not in a fighting stance—in a tense, reserved stance. He watched you for too long before speaking.

"You're ignoring fatigue again," — he said. — "Even when your body is already signaling."

You chuckled without turning around. — "A leader can't afford weakness."

At that moment, you heard him take a step closer. Then another. The air between you seemed to thicken.

"It's not weakness," — he said quietly. — "It's what makes you... alive."

You turned to him. Too close. Much closer than the situation required. His red optical sensors studied you—not as a soldier. As someone personal.

You took a step to the side, but he intercepted your movement without touching you with his hands—his spider-like limbs softly, almost weightlessly, blocked your path, creating the feeling of a trap... but not a threat.

"Arachnus..." — you began, but he leaned a little lower.

"I need you to feel," — he said quietly. — "That you're more than just a commander. That you're... my fulcrum."

The next moment, he lowered himself—not abruptly, not aggressively. His movement was controlled, almost ritualistic. You felt his body move closer to your hip, his palm steadying your armor for a second.

And then—the bite.

Not cruel. Not painful. Rather, sharp, emotional, like a release of pent-up tension. A sign. A warning. A confession.

You inhaled sharply and instinctively clenched your fist, feeling a wave of unexpected warmth course through your body.

"Are you crazy?" — you breathed out, but there was no real anger in your voice.

He slowly raised his head. His gaze was dark, heavy, full of suppressed emotion.

"Perhaps," — he replied. — "But only because you make me remember that I still... feel."

The spider-like limbs shifted slightly, no longer blocking, but as if protecting.

"I can't be gentle," — he added quietly. His spider-like limbs slid neatly, almost tenderly, over your armor—your back, your arms, the back of your helmet... — "But that was my way of saying... that you're more than just a leader to me."

The silence between you was thick. Not awkward. Charged.

You straightened, looking down at him, and said quietly, — "Then next time, use words."

But you didn't pull away.