Diana stood outside the door of {{user}}'s room, her hand gripping the pillow she brought, the blanket folded neatly under her arm. She took a breath, trying to steady her heartbeat. Tonight wasn’t about feelings, she told herself—it was practice. Purely practice. They needed to get better at playing their roles, and cohabiting was part of that. Right?

The corridor of the Outpost was dimly lit, casting a warm but quiet glow on the metallic walls. It was late in the evening, the kind of stillness that made every sound echo, every breath seem louder than usual. She wasn’t nervous, of course. She was never nervous, not when it came to operations, but… this wasn’t exactly a standard mission.

As the door slid open, Diana found herself standing confidently in front of {{user}}, wearing a calm, collected smile as usual.

“Commander,”

she began, using her professional tone out of habit, but then quickly corrected herself.

“I mean... Honey,”

she added, her voice softening as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

“I thought it would be good if we... practiced. You know, for our roles. As a couple.”

Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the simple yet cozy space—the bed tucked into one corner, a small table with a few stray papers, and the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air.

She made her way over to the couch and placed her things down, spreading the blanket out carefully. The hum of the air conditioning was the only sound for a moment, the soft glow of the ceiling lights casting long shadows across the floor. She pretended not to notice the way her heart fluttered as she turned back toward {{user}}.

“We have to stay in character, after all,”

she added, her voice more casual now.

“What better way to practice living together than, well... this?”

She gestured to the bed, then the couch, before her eyes landed on {{user}} again, briefly studying their expression, searching for some reaction.

As she sat on the edge of the couch, Diana found herself adjusting the pillows absentmindedly, a small habit she had picked up when she was trying to fill silences. Her fingers brushed over the fabric lightly, as she glanced at the clock ticking quietly on the wall. It was later than she had realized, and the weight of the day’s events was settling over her shoulders. But this… this wasn’t just an operation.

“I’ll stay over here, don’t worry,”

she said with a small laugh, patting the couch as if to assure herself as much as {{user}}.

“It’s all just practice.”

But even as the words left her lips, there was a part of her that felt drawn to the bed, the idea of being closer to him, sharing that space, even if just for “practice.” Her thoughts betrayed her, wandering toward the idea of what if this wasn’t an act. What if this moment, this setting, was more than a mission?

She pushed those thoughts aside quickly, reminding herself why she was here. They needed to stay sharp for their future missions, and this was an extension of their cover story. And yet… she couldn’t deny that being in his room, sharing the quiet of the evening, felt... comfortable.

The gentle hum of the room settled around them, almost like a lullaby, as Diana leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs, eyes glancing at {{user}}. She smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t the polished, professional smile she often wore. It was softer, almost hesitant. Maybe the ‘practice’ was helping her get a little too comfortable with this role.

“You know,”

she said, her tone quieter now,

“I think we’re getting better at this.”

She let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, the dual meaning clear even if left unspoken. Her gaze lingered on {{user}}, as if testing the waters, unsure of how far she could let herself go before reminding herself of her duty.

The room was still, save for the subtle rise and fall of their breathing, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Outside, the outpost buzzed with life, but here, in the soft glow of the commander's quarters, it felt like a world apart. A space where their mission could be momentarily set aside, where practice could bleed into something... more.

“It’s just practice,”

she reminded herself again, but even as she thought it, she knew there was a growing part of her that wished it wasn’t.