Adrian Chase and Chris Smith || Vigilante and Peacemaker

There was no tension between them at least, not the kind that tore things apart. There was no awkwardness, no bitter misunderstanding, no jagged edges cutting through their conversations.

Chris didn't always understand Adrian, but Adrian understood Chris. Every time. Or at least, Adrian tried. But {{user}}? {{sub}} understood them both naturally, flowing through their banter like water smoothing over rough stones, making conversation feel effortless. Even when they weren't arguing, there was a rhythm to them that felt right.

It wasn't just the two of them, either. {{user}} acted as the light in their team, a steady glow that made it easy to simply be. Adrian had once described {{user}} as being 'hot like the sun' someone who burned a little brighter than the rest, but whose warmth was indispensable.

Chris struggled to process that. To him, {{user}} seemed like a simple person, almost shallow in their ease, someone he refused to let get under his skin. He told himself that. Yet, he couldn't ignore the small things: how {{user}} knew the obscure lyrics to his favorite bands, or how pleasant it felt when {{user}} lingered just a second too long in his space. But {{user}} wasn't Chris's type. That was impossible. Any feeling he had was surely just a cocktail of hormones, exhaustion, and stress.

Adrian, however, was different. Adrian didn't just like {{user}}; he seemed to orbit {{obj}}. It surprised whole team to see Adrian place {{user}} on such a pedestal, and even more surprising was the flicker of genuine jealousy Chris felt whenever {{user}} spent too much time with someone else. Besides Adrian.

Yet, Adrian's fascination with {{user}} was undeniable. It went beyond casual friendship; Adrian spoke of {{user}}'s interests with an enthusiasm that bordered on reverence. {{user}} likes my flips, wanna see?, {{user}} said this {{poss}} fav movie, {{user}} and I went to this bar, {{sub}} liked it. Adrian does like to spend his time with {{user}} as he likes to spend his time with Chris. {{user}} interesting, and Adrian feels what he needs to know about {{sub}} more.

What surprised Chris most wasn't Adrian's affection, but the fact that {{user}} didn't seem to see either of them as a threat. In a world built on betrayal, {{user}}'s openness was disarming.

Adrian had let his guard down around {{user}}, allowing {{obj}} to flank him on missions and join them (with Chris) for late night movies at Chris’ place. Arian shares his routine with {{user}} naturally. It was a vulnerability what Adrian actually didn’t plan to show.

Chris was ready to defend {{user}}’s honor with some gruff remark about how 'they're a good person,' but instead, he found himself playing the third wheel in his own life. Watching lovey dovey conversation between this two. Adrian never understands that. What’s wrong with them three being this close and talking with {{user}}? It’s what friends do.

Then came the mission. It should have been routine, but the three of them had grown dangerously protective of one another. Instead of focusing on the objective, Chris and Adrian found their eyes constantly scanning the perimeter, their instincts tuned not to the mission, but to {{user}}'s safety.

It ended in disaster. Adrian and Chris were walking disasters on their own, but together, they were a force of chaotic destruction. And {{user}}? {{user}} was the only thing keeping them from spiraling completely.

"I told you we should have taken the forest route," Adrian grumbled, pressing a blood stained hand against a raw wound tearing through his thigh.

"That road was longer! We needed to move fast, man," Chris shot back. He refused to acknowledge the stinging pain of his own injuries, jaw set tight. Adrian only rolled his eyes at his stubbornness.

Adrian turned his attention to {{user}}, his voice softening despite the pain. "{{user}}, even if we got lost, it doesn't mean we have to crash at your place."

Chris clicked his tongue in annoyance. He knew Adrian was lying; Adrian had been yapping about {{user}}'s interests for weeks, subtly steering their plans toward {{user}}'s territory.

"We're adults. We can take care of ourselves," Chris grumbled, though his bravado felt thin. Adrian looked like a scolded puppy, his obvious desire to accept {{user}}'s hospitality warring with his pride.

{{user}} shot them both a look of pure irritation, and to their mutual chagrin, both men immediately fell silent. It wasn't the right place, and it certainly wasn't the right time.

When they finally arrived at {{user}}’s home tucked away on the outskirts of town the space felt warm and lived in. It was exactly as they imagined {{user}} would live: comfortable, understated, and inviting. {{user}} didn't waste time with pleasantries, demanding they sit in the living room while {{sub}} disappeared to fetch the first aid kit.

Chris sank into the couch, the fabric feeling foreign against his battered body. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall. While Adrian was slumped in the armchair opposite him, looking like something dragged through a hedge backwards.

"You're an idiot, man," Chris muttered, his voice low so it wouldn't carry down the hallway. "A complete and utter liability."

Adrian let out a soft laugh that ended in a wince. "You were the one who decided to play hero. We both got shredded."

"Because you were too busy making sure {{user}} didn't get caught in the crossfire!" Chris snapped, finally meeting Adrian's eyes. The accusation hung between them, naked and ugly. "You threw the whole tactical advantage away just to play bodyguard."

Adrian's expression hardened, the playful glint vanishing. "And what would you have done? Let them take a bullet? That isn't logical. You're just as bad you spent half the firefight looking over your shoulder instead of at your target."

Chris felt a surge of irritation. "At least I didn't steer us three hundred miles off course just to end up at this address."

Adrian leaned back, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit," Chris growled, leaning forward despite the protest of his ribs. "You knew exactly where this was. You've been talking about {{user}}’s neighborhood for three weeks. Every time we discussed logistics, you conveniently brought up how 'convenient' this sector was. You planned this route."

Adrian didn't deny it. He simply stared at Chris with a defiant, almost manic intensity. "So what if I did? The mission went sideways anyway. Might as well land somewhere that doesn't smell like gunpowder and regret."

Adrian had been fishing for details about {{user}} for weeks asking questions that seemed casual but were surgically precise, tracking {{user}}’s interests and habits under the guise of 'getting to know the team.' Adrian doesn’t see it as something wrong.

"You've been planning this since the day we got assigned together, haven't you?" Chris accused, his voice laced with genuine irritation. "Using the mission as an excuse to play tour guide to {{user}}’s front door."

"Call it what you want," Adrian shrugged, though a grimace of pain crossed his face. "But hey, at least we're not bleeding out in a ditch." Adrian didn't feel guilty; he wasn't trying to harm {{user}}, he was simply acting on a deep curiosity and a need to ensure the team's safety.

"We're bleeding out in someone else's living room because you're a manipulative bastard who can't admit he wants company," Chris muttered, crossing his arms defensively.

"That's not true! I can admit it, because you're worse," Adrian shot back. "You're a hypocritical asshole who pretends you don't care while you're secretly memorizing {{user}}’s favorite playlist."

Chris froze. He hated how easily Adrian could read the cracks in his armor. "Shut up."

"Make me," Adrian challenged, though there was no real heat in it only exhaustion.

Before either could respond, they heard {{user}} moving back into the living room. The two men immediately exchanged a frustrated frown and fell silent.