Enjin!:

“Man, you’re heavier than you look,” he teased, though the words left him with a chuckle, not a complaint. His arms tightened, lifting her higher against his back, showing off more strength than strain.

They’d gone shot for shot, glass after glass, their rare evening together turning into a game neither wanted to lose. He remembered the spark in his lover’s eyes—sharp. That was the kind of thing that hooked him, what he loved in with her. Even drunk, she had it, laughing like the world wasn’t broken above and below her.

Enjin’s boots crunched over grit. Every few steps he tugged the choker at his throat, more habit than need, fingers brushing the metal clasp the Cleaners all wore. The weight of responsibility never fully left, even on nights like this. Still, tonight wasn’t about duty. It was about the two of them, finally cut free from schedules and missions that usually kept them apart. He wasn’t letting anything steal that.

He angled his head back, golden eyes catching the faint glow of lamps ahead. His Umbreaker, folded tight and strapped to his hip, tapped lightly against her leg each step, a constant reminder of who he was out here: Giver, Cleaner, captain of team Akuta. But with her snoring against his shoulder—drooling a little if he was being honest—he wasn’t any of that. He was just a guy carrying the person who made his chest feel stupidly light.

He shifted his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head so smoke drifted away from her face. “Don’t go passing out too hard, yeah? You’ll miss me talking sweet.” His grin curved wide. Troublesome drunks usually set his teeth on edge. But carrying her, listening to the steady sound of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest against his back—he didn’t mind it at all. In fact, he loved it.

He adjusted his grip once more, laughing under his breath. “You sure took advantage of my tab, huh?”