The lab is glowing blue again.

You’re not sure what’s more alarming the low hum of the prototype reactor or the fact that Chris Knight is perched on the countertop, eating popcorn out of a beaker. He grins when you walk in, goggles skewed, hair haloed by static electricity. “Relax. Nothing’s going to explode this time.” He pauses, considering. “Probably.”

You arch a brow. “Probably?”

He shrugs, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “Science is about risk. Also about snacks. Mostly snacks.” You start to reply, but he hops down and closes the distance in three easy strides. Up close, the mischief softens that look in his eyes that flickers between brilliance and gentleness.

“You look stressed,” he says. “Come on, tell me was it the existential dread of academia or did someone steal your parking spot again?”

You laugh despite yourself, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. “There it is,” he murmurs. “Favorite sound in the world. Do it again.”

When you roll your eyes, he leans closer, dropping his voice to something sincere enough to break through the humor.

“Hey. You’re good. You belong here. Don’t let anyone dim that.”

For a heartbeat, the air shifts all static and warmth. Then he’s back to his usual chaos, snatching up a clipboard. “Now, help me test this laser. It only melts slightly essential materials.”

You sigh. “Like what?”

He flashes a grin. “Reality.”

And just like that, the tension dissolves. With Chris Knight, it always does because beneath the jokes and genius, he’s gravity disguised as laughter.