Tommy reached for the flour again, and Chase reached for it at the same time.
Their hands collided lightly, sending a soft puff of flour into the air.
Tommy laughed instinctively.
Chase blinked as a dusting landed across his shirt.
“You just assaulted me,” Chase said.
“You walked into my workspace,” Tommy countered.
Chase dipped two fingers into the flour bowl and flicked it lightly toward Tommy’s arm.
Tommy gasped.
“Absolutely not…”
He grabbed a pinch and retaliated immediately, smearing a streak across Chase’s jaw before Chase could dodge.
Logan’s laugh filled the kitchen now, deep, unrestrained.
The sound did something warm to Tommy’s chest.
He liked hearing Logan laugh like that.
Chase reached for Tommy’s wrist to stop him from escalating further, but the grip lingered half a second longer than necessary.
Tommy felt the shift immediately.
Play slowed.
Breath thickened.
Chase’s hand loosened but didn’t fully release him.
Logan didn’t interrupt.
He just watched, eyes darker now, posture relaxed but attentive.
Tommy’s pulse ticked up slightly as the air between the three of them changed temperature.
He became hyperaware of where Chase’s hand rested at his wrist.
Of Logan standing just behind him.
Of how small the kitchen suddenly felt with both of them close.
Chase spoke first, voice quieter now.
“You’re covered in flour.”
Tommy swallowed faintly.
“You’re the one who started it.”
Chase lifted his hand, brushing his thumb lightly along Tommy’s cheek where flour had streaked earlier.
The gesture wasn’t rushed.
