Blaze had barely stepped into the car that morning when her phone chimed. She blinked, glancing down at the screen, and for a second, she froze. It was a message. From him.
Shadow.
He had actually texted her from his new smartphone. It was the shortest, most Shadow-esque message imaginable, but the fact that he'd done it at all was a monumental step.
Shadow: No take out.
Blaze stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the screen. She quickly glanced out the car window, making sure her security detail wasn't watching her too closely, before allowing herself the faintest smile.
He's learning, she thought, her chest swelling with a quiet, restrained pride.
Of course, he wouldn't want takeout. Shadow had made it perfectly clear that he considered it a waste of money. But still, the fact that he'd gone through the trouble of texting her about it—on his new phone, no less—felt oddly significant. It was progress.
Her smile faded as she let out a soft sigh, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. Why are you so proud of him for something so small? she scolded herself. Get it together, Blaze. Don't be stupid.
She tucked her phone back into her pocket, forcing herself to focus. After all, she wasn't heading to Rouge's penthouse for a casual visit. The week was almost over, and they were no closer to figuring out the identity of the traitor (or traitors) within GUN. After her emotional spiral last night, Blaze had resolved to keep her feelings in check and focus on the mission.
But as the car pulled up to Rouge's building, and Blaze stepped out into the cool morning air, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease. She was walking into the lion's den—into the same space she'd spent the last few days in, the same space where he was.
She exhaled sharply, straightening her posture as she entered the building. You can handle this, she told herself firmly. It's just Shadow. You've seen him angry, injured, stubborn, and half-asleep. There's nothing he can do that will throw you off.
But as she opened the door to Rouge's penthouse and stepped inside, Blaze immediately realized how wrong she was.
Shadow wasn't on the couch where she'd grown used to finding him. He wasn't brooding in the corner or sitting stiffly with his arms crossed. No, he was up.
In the kitchen.
Blaze blinked, her golden eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. Shadow was moving—albeit slowly—standing at the stove with a pot simmering in front of him. She could smell the faint aroma of vegetables and broth, and it took her a moment to realize what he was doing.
He's making soup.
Her shock quickly turned to frustration as she marched toward him, ready to yell at him for being up and moving around. "What are you doing? You should be resting!"
But before she could get another word out, Shadow cut her off.
"I did rest," he said curtly, not bothering to look at her as he stirred the pot. "All night. I'm not exerting myself."
Blaze opened her mouth to argue, but his calm, matter-of-fact tone stopped her. She blinked, momentarily thrown off. Shadow rarely defended himself so… reasonably. Normally, he'd meet her concern with irritation or dismissiveness, but now he seemed entirely unfazed by her scolding.
"And since you didn't bring takeout," he added, glancing at her briefly, "I figured I'd make something."
Blaze's jaw tightened. So that's why he texted me. She didn't know whether to be annoyed or impressed.
But then he did something that completely derailed her thoughts.
Shadow reached for a second bowl, ladled some soup into it, and quietly handed it to her.
Blaze froze, staring at the steaming bowl in her hands. "You… made me a bowl?" she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
Shadow didn't look at her as he turned off the stove and moved to sit at the counter. "You're here, aren't you?" he said simply, as though that explained everything.
Blaze blinked, her mind racing. He'd made her soup. He'd thought about her. The logical part of her brain told her it didn't mean anything, that it was just Shadow being practical. But the part of her that had spent the entire night wrestling with her emotions was screaming at her, and she couldn't stop the heat rising in her chest.
Her powers flared before she could stop them.
The soup in her bowl began to boil slightly, and small flames flickered around her hands. Blaze's eyes widened as she quickly tried to extinguish the flames, but it was too late.
Shadow, seated across from her, raised a brow as he sipped his soup. "You're being strange again," he said bluntly.
Blaze's face burned, and she turned away slightly, clutching the bowl tightly in her hands. "I'm not," she said quickly, though her voice was far from convincing.
Shadow tilted his head, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "Your hands are on fire," he pointed out.
Blaze forced herself to take a deep breath, focusing all her energy on calming the flames. Her powers flickered for a moment longer before finally dying down, leaving only faint wisps of heat rising from her gloves.
"It's nothing," she said sharply, avoiding his gaze as she took a seat at the counter. "I'm fine."
Shadow took another slow sip of his soup, his crimson eyes still fixed on her. Blaze could feel his gaze, and it made her chest tighten even more.
"You're acting weird," he said finally, his tone calm but firm. "You've been acting weird since yesterday."
Blaze's hands tightened around the bowl, and she bit her lip, refusing to look at him. "I'm not acting weird," she muttered, though the redness in her cheeks betrayed her.
Shadow frowned slightly, but he didn't press her further. Instead, he turned his attention back to his soup, his eyes deadpan.
Blaze, meanwhile, sat stiffly at the counter, her mind racing. She couldn't believe this was happening. She'd told herself she was going to stay composed, that she wasn't going to let her emotions get the better of her. But here she was, blushing like an idiot because Shadow had made her soup.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, watching as he ate quietly. There was something almost… peaceful about him in that moment. The usual intensity in his posture and expression were nowhere to be found, and for a brief moment, Blaze allowed herself to admire him.
Stopppp, she scolded herself, quickly looking away.
But as she took a hesitant sip of the soup—warm, simple, and surprisingly good—she couldn't help but feel the faintest flicker of something she couldn't quite name.
And it terrified her.
—-
She sipped the soup slowly, letting the warmth spread through her, but it did nothing to calm the chaos swirling inside her. She needed to say something—anything—to break the silence and stop her thoughts from spiraling again.
Taking a steadying breath, she glanced at Shadow and asked, "Are you feeling better?"
Shadow, seated across from her at the counter, didn't look up right away. He took another sip from his own bowl before giving a curt nod. "Almost completely healed," he said simply. "My regeneration's working again, finally."
Blaze nodded, her grip on the bowl tightening slightly. "That's good," she said softly, her voice even despite the rapid beating of her heart.
She forced herself to focus on the soup, taking another sip, but her mind kept wandering. The way he moved in the kitchen earlier—controlled, deliberate, like even something as mundane as making soup was a mission to be completed with precision. How had she never known he could cook?
As if reading her thoughts, Shadow spoke again.
"It's simple," he said, nodding toward the pot still sitting on the stove.
Blaze blinked, lowering her bowl slightly. "What?"
"The soup," he clarified, his tone calm but slightly impatient. "It's not complicated. Vegetables, broth, seasonings. Rouge had the basics, so I used that."
Blaze stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. She hadn't expected him to elaborate. Shadow wasn't exactly known for casual conversation, and yet here he was, explaining how he'd made the soup.
"It's not hard," he added, glancing at her. "You could probably figure it out."
Blaze blinked again, heat creeping into her cheeks. "Me?"
Shadow gave her an almost exasperated look. "You said you don't know how to cook," he pointed out, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Her blush deepened, and she quickly looked down at her bowl. "I… I didn't have the chance to learn," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "The palace staff wouldn't let me, remember? They said it wasn't… proper."
Shadow huffed softly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "That's ridiculous."
Blaze's eyes snapped up to meet his, her cheeks flushing even more. "What?"
He shrugged, his expression neutral but his tone firm. "If you want to learn, you learn. Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."
Blaze stared at him, her chest tightening. There was something about the way he said it—so blunt, so matter-of-fact—that made her breath catch. It was such a simple statement, and yet it felt like it carried so much weight.
Before she could respond, Shadow continued. "If you're serious, I'll teach you," he said, his tone casual but direct. "The soup, I mean. It's easy enough."
Blaze froze, her mind racing. He was offering to teach her how to cook? Shadow? Her heart skipped a beat as her mind conjured an image of him standing behind her, his hands guiding hers as he showed her how to chop vegetables or stir the pot correctly.
Her face burned, and before she could stop it, her powers flared again. The soup in her bowl began to bubble slightly, and small flames flickered at the edges of her gloves.
Shadow frowned, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched her. "You're doing it again," he said flatly.
Blaze stiffened, heat rising in her cheeks again. "it's the mission," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze. "It's… stressful."
Shadow nodded slightly, leaning back in his chair. "It's obvious," he said simply. "Your powers flare every other moment, and you're distracted."
"You need to stay focused," Shadow continued, his tone firm but not harsh. "After we find the traitor, you should take a break. You're burning yourself out. Literally."
Blaze's eyes widened slightly as she glanced at him. "A break?"
Shadow nodded, finishing the last of his soup and setting the bowl down. "You can't keep pushing like this. You'll make mistakes." He stood, his movements careful but steady as he carried his bowl to the sink. "After we finish this, take some time to regroup. Understood?"
Blaze hesitated, her hands tightening around her bowl. "Deal," she said softly, though her heart was anything but calm.
She watched as Shadow cleaned up, his movements efficient and precise as always. He was so casual, so calm, as though this was just another mission, just another day. He didn't seem to notice the way her heart raced or how her hands trembled.
And maybe that was for the best.
Because this wasn't just stress. This wasn't just admiration for a teammate.
This was a full-blown, massive crush.
And Sol help her, she had no idea what to do about it.