Jinx curled her legs up on the armrest of Ekko’s chair, the phone in her hand a constant flicker of light against her fingers. She grinned, an easy, carefree kind of expression that always made him watch her a second too long.
“You have to hear this,” she said, laughter already in her voice. “Vi just texted me. Apparently, Caitlyn bought one of those ‘How to Connect with Your Troubled Sister’ books. Like I wouldn’t find out.”
Ekko chuckled, his fingers deftly working through the strands of her electric blue hair, weaving careful, practiced braids. His hands moved with muscle memory, smoothing, parting, weaving, tying off sections with ease. “She’s trying,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “You gonna let her?”
Jinx snorted, tilting her head back slightly so she could meet his eyes upside down. The way her eyes glowed with mischief, the way her lips curved just slightly—it made his chest tighten, just for a moment. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Ekko smirked, shaking his head. “Stay still, Powder.” He tugged lightly at a strand, more of a tease than anything else, but the way her lashes fluttered told him she felt it too.
She exhaled, a little softer now. Her fingers still hovered over her screen, but her attention had drifted, settling instead on the quiet pull between them. The room smelled faintly of oil and cocoa butter, from the product he used in his own hair, blending with the lingering scent of gunpowder and metal that always clung to Jinx. It was a strange mix, but it was familiar, and comfortingly so.
“So,” he said after a beat, his tone teasing but light, “you ever gonna let me teach you how to do this?”
Jinx smirked. “Why would I? If I learn, I won’t need you anymore.”
Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. You’d replace me with a YouTube tutorial, huh?”
She shrugged, dramatic as always. “Just me, my phone, and an unreasonable amount of hair gel.”
He tied off the last braid, running his fingers over it with quiet satisfaction. His fingertips brushed against her scalp, lingering for just a second too long, and Jinx shivered. “There,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “Now you look even more like trouble.”
Jinx turned the front camera on, tilting her head side to side, inspecting his work. “Damn. I do look good.”
Ekko watched her, resting his elbows on his knees. “You always do.”
Something in the way he said it made her hesitate for just a second, but she recovered fast, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a way that was almost shy. “Duh. It’s part of my brand.”
He grinned, reaching for her phone before she could react. “Alright, let’s see what kind of chaos you’ve been stirring up today.”
Jinx gasped, lunging after him. “Ekko, I swear—”
He dodged her easily, laughing as she practically climbed over the chair to reclaim it. The chase was on, and neither of them cared who won. It was just another moment, another memory, another piece of something neither of them dared to name—at least, not yet.
The night stretched on, the air humming with something unsaid. Jinx had eventually reclaimed her phone, but she hadn’t left her spot, curled in his chair as if it had always belonged to her. Ekko had settled on the floor at her feet, one arm draped over his knee, watching her with a quiet amusement as she scrolled through messages she barely paid attention to.
“You staying over?” he asked eventually, his voice casual.
Jinx glanced down at him, one brow raised. “You offering?”
He smirked. “You’re already half-asleep in my chair, Powder. Might as well just admit you’re comfortable.”
She scoffed, but there was no heat in it. “I’m not comfortable,” she muttered, shifting slightly—then freezing as he reached up, his fingers brushing over her knee.
“Liar,” he murmured.
Jinx swallowed hard. The teasing had shifted, the air between them charged in a way that felt almost dangerous. She could hear her own heartbeat, feel the weight of his hand still ghosting over her skin, the warmth of his presence grounding her.
“You’re getting cocky,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ekko tilted his head, his gaze steady. “Maybe.”
Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then, slowly, Jinx let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, rolling her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if I stay, I’m taking over the bed. You get the floor.”
Ekko grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Sometime in the night, a choked sound pulled Ekko from the edge of sleep. His eyes adjusted to the dark, barely making out Jinx’s curled form on the bed. She whimpered, gripping the sheets too tightly, her breathing erratic.
“Powder?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
She gasped awake, eyes wild and searching in the dim light. When they landed on him, something in her expression crumpled. Before he could think, she reached for him, pulling him toward her in a tight, desperate embrace.
“Just—don’t go,” she whispered, burying her face against his chest.
He hesitated for barely a second before wrapping his arms around her, one hand smoothing over her back. “I’m here,” he said softly, pressing his lips to her hair.
For a while, they just lay there, tangled together in the quiet. The weight of her against him felt like something inevitable, like a truth he hadn’t dared acknowledge before now.
Jinx shifted slightly, lifting her head just enough to meet his eyes in the dark. There was something raw, something unguarded in her gaze. “Ekko,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I—”
He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he leaned in, brushing his lips over hers in the softest, most uncertain kiss he’d ever given. A question, a promise, a confession in one.
Jinx melted into him, her fingers curling against his shirt as she kissed him back—gentle, hesitant, but real.
When they finally pulled away, she let out a shaky breath. “Well,” she murmured, “that was bound to happen.”
Ekko huffed a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against hers. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It was.”
Neither of them moved to let go. For now, the night belonged to them, and that was enough.