Chapter 19

Quinn's key turns in the lock, and the familiar weight of exhaustion settles in his shoulders. He steps inside, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. The hum of the city outside fades, and in the quiet of Lily's apartment, everything feels a little more manageable.

Lily is waiting for him. A bottle of champagne—freshly uncorked—sits in an ice bucket on the coffee table. When he walks in, her eyes light up, and she fills two glasses before crossing the room to meet him.

"Welcome home," she hands him a glass, smiling warmly. "How'd it go? I've racked up 8,000 steps pacing, just so you know," she teases.

Quinn chuckles. "Thanks," he murmurs, gratefully accepting the glass. "It's over. Well, for me, at least. Which is all that matters right now." He leans in, brushing his lips against hers.

She pushes him away lightly with a sly smile. "Cheers," she says, raising her own glass before clinking it lightly against his.

He grins and takes a sip, feeling the bubbles rush to his head, then deposits the glass on the entry table with a long sigh. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over a chair.

"Tell me about it," Lily murmurs, watching him with concern.

"It was… stressful," he says, retrieving his champagne glass and pulling her onto the couch. He rests his chin on top of her head. "Tough questions. Especially about Islamabad."

Lily frowns, already tensing. "They couldn't possibly blame you for that…?"

Quinn shrugs, kissing the top of her head. "People need someone to blame. Comes with the job."

She pulls back slightly, searching his face. "Fuck them," she says, her tone sharp.

Quinn laughs. "They weren't all bad. One even acted like the medal I got was the highlight of the whole thing." He smirks. "It was—"

Lily tilts her head. "A medal? What medal?"

Quinn takes a sip of champagne and waves it off. "It's not a big deal, Lil. Medal of Freedom. Or something like that."

Lily stares at him in disbelief. "The Presidential Medal of Freedom?"

"Yeah, that's it." He drains his glass and reaches for the bottle to refill it, glancing at hers and topping that off too.

She repeats slowly, more to herself than him, "You got that for Islamabad?"

Quinn laughs softly, shaking his head. "It's just a formality, really. You know how this stuff goes."

She looks at him for a long moment, shaking her head slowly. Finally, she raises her glass, grinning. "For someone who looks as hot in that suit as you do right now, and who apparently won a fucking presidential medal, you're almost comically lacking in self-awareness."

He smirks. "I look hot in this suit, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," she says, eyes twinkling. "But you're missing the bigger picture here, Peter."

"I don't think I am," he teases. "How hot do I look right now, on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Hot like a fucking superhero."

Quinn grins slyly. "I also got the CIA Director's Award. Does that make me hotter?"

Lily laughs and starts undoing his tie. "Mhmm. But a naked hero? Even better."

Quinn chuckles, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "Is that so?"

She pulls away just enough to look up at him, a playful glint in her eye. "A little celebration's in order, don't you think?"

"Now that you mention it…" Quinn leans down to kiss her, soft but deep, as if he's been waiting all day for this.

She hums against his lips, slipping his tie off without breaking the kiss. "So, hero," she murmurs, "ready for your real reward?"

He grins, pulling her closer. "After that hearing? Absolutely."