"Fine," I said shortly, averting my eyes and shifting slightly away. "Just need to clean up."
Vincent nodded. "Let me get something."
He reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand. I took the tissues, focusing intently on the mechanical task of cleaning up themess we'd made. It was easier than acknowledging the strange ache in my chest, the unfamiliar feeling of wanting to stay instead of leaving.
"I should probably let you get some rest," I said, already half sitting up, moving to swing my legs over the side of the bed. This was the part where I left, went back to the couch, put some distance between us before things got too... something.
"You could stay," Vincent offered, his voice deliberately casual as he tossed the used tissues into a small wastebasket beside the bed. "The bed's plenty big enough for both of us."
I glanced back at him, surprised. "You want me to stay?"
"If you want to," he said, giving me that perfect out, the space to say no without any pressure.
I hesitated, my mind flashing back to the other night when my hands had closed around his throat. I'd nearly strangled him during a nightmare.
I shook my head. "Bad idea, doc. You remember what happened last time? I could have killed you."
Vincent studied me. "How about a compromise?" he suggested, slipping into that calm therapist voice that somehow still managed to sound natural rather than clinical.
"I'm listening."
"You could stay and... watch over me instead?" he suggested. "If you're not sleeping, no nightmares, right?"
Watch over him. That's exactly what I wanted, what I'd been doing since the moment I saw him through my scope. Watching, protecting, seeing him when no one else did.
"I can do that," I agreed, trying to sound indifferent despite the relief flooding through me.
Vincent smiled, a small, knowing thing. "Good. Don't let the monsters get me." He turned over, giving me his back.
"I am the monster, Vince," I said quietly.
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression suddenly serious. "No, Luka. You're really not."
Something cracked in my chest, a fissure splitting through twenty-six years of certainty. My throat tightened around words I couldn't form. Monster was all I'd ever been: weapon, killer, asset. It formed the foundation of my entire identity. If I wasn't the monster, what the fuck was I?
Vincent's simple declaration rattled through my mind like a bullet ricocheting inside a metal box. Four words challenging everything Prometheus had spent decades drilling into me. Four words offering something I didn't dare name. Absolution? Humanity? The possibility that the blood on my hands hadn't completely consumed whatever soul I might have had?
I swallowed hard, unprepared for how desperately I wanted to believe him.
"You don't know everything I've done," I finally managed.
"I know enough," he replied simply. "Monsters don't protect. Monsters don't hesitate. Monsters don't feel guilt."
I looked away, unable to face the gentle certainty in his expression. He was so fucking sure. So convinced there was something in me worth salvaging. It terrified me how badly I wanted him to be right.
I settled against the headboard, close enough to feel his warmth but not touching. Vincent's breathing slowed, deepened. His body relaxed into sleep with a trust I hadn't earned and didn't deserve.
I watched the rise and fall of his chest, counted each breath like a prayer. Memorized the curve of his shoulder, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the slight parting of his lips. This was my job now. To keep him safe. From the world. From Prometheus. From me.
Eventually, I found myself sliding down, lying beside him, drawn by some gravitational pull I couldn't resist. Carefully, I aligned my body with his, my chest against his back, my arm draped lightly over his waist. Just to better protect him, I told myself. Just to be closer if any threats appeared.
As the night deepened, Vincent's steady breathing beneath my arm lulled me toward sleep despite my best intentions. I realized suddenly that I'd never been this close to anyone before. Not by choice. Not without ulterior motives or mission requirements. Just because I wanted to be near them.
It should have terrified me. Instead, it unlocked something in my chest, like discovering a room in a house I'd lived in for years but never knew existed.
Sleep crept over me slowly, each breath bringing me closer to unconsciousness. Vincent's warmth seeped into my skin, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my palm. My eyelids grew heavier, my thoughts fuzzy at the edges. I fought against it—I was supposed to stay awake, to keep watch—but exhaustion pulled me under, my body surrendering to what it needed most.
The last coherent thought I had was how different this felt from every other time I'd shared a bed with someone. No mission. No tactical advantage. Just connection. Just comfort.
