weird question, bro

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Setting: Post-mission meal, everyone's tired, eating around a fire at the Iron Lion base. Nico and Bea are sitting next to each other like always — quietly sharing food, elbow-touching, eye-contacting, doing their usual understated-intimacy thing.

"So like... do you two sleep together?" Minho asked, halfway through chewing.

The camp goes silent. Nico chokes on his stew. Bea slowly lowers her spoon.

"...Like, sexually?" Bea blinked.

"I mean. Yeah? You're always together. You nap on him like a cat. Just wondering." Minho said nonchalantly.

"We've barely even kissed." Nico said, clearing his throat while looking vaguely at the fire.

"One time. It was an accident." Bea replied, nodding.

"It wasn't that accidental..." Thomas muttered.

"So no sexy-time?" Nancy hummed, sipping her tea and trying not to laugh.

"No. Just war crimes and trauma." Bea said dryly.

"Damn. That's somehow worse." Hugo said to Luke.

"If we had done anything, I'm pretty sure you all would've heard it. You're nosy as hell." Nico said, finally recovering.

"So you're saying there's potential?" Vicky grinned at Bea.

"I'm saying we have knives. Sharp ones." Bea said with a deadpan expression.

"That's not a no." Frypan whispered.

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