There was peace.
For maybe six minutes.
Sunlight slanted through the tinted windows of the lair, soft and golden, like it hadn't been born in hellfire just days ago. Somewhere, tech hummed. A distant drip echoed through steel corridors.
And in bed—Lilly was curled against Sam, fingers tracing lazy patterns over warm skin. Bare thighs tangled. Breath syncing in and out. The kind of quiet that never lasted long in their world.
Lilly blinked slowly. "...It's Saturday."
Sam, still half-asleep, mumbled, "That supposed to mean something?"
"I don't know. Just feels like Saturdays are made for sin."
Then—
"You manipulative gaslight gremlin!"
Maya's voice.
Followed by—
"You jealous psychopath with a superiority complex the size of Jupiter!"
Ava's voice.
Sam groaned "God, what now?"
Lilly just grinned.
Then, CRASH
Something broke something very expensive.
Another thud someone hit a wall.
Then: "You used my toothbrush as a lockpick?!"
"YOU TRIED TO POISON MY COFFEE!"
Sam started to rise, sighing like the only sane adult left in the apocalypse.
But Lilly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her right back down into bed.
"Let them murder each other," Lilly whispered, voice husky in her throat, lips brushing Sam's ear. "They deserve it we don't."
Sam blinked "You are so toxic."
"You like it," Lilly murmured, and kissed Sam.
This time there was no hesitation no apocalypse chasing their heels just hands, mouths, Skin on skin fire blooming where their bodies met.
Lilly pressed Sam into the mattress, teeth grazing her collarbone, whispers turning to gasps.
Outside the bedroom?
Maya threw a left hook. Ava dodged.
Ava tackled her into the table.
Maya shouted, "This is why Mom liked me better!"
Ava roared, "I BURNED YOUR BABY PHOTOS FOR A REASON!"
Inside the bedroom?
Sam let out a breathless laugh. "Do we stop them?"
Lilly smirked against her skin. "Do you want to stop?"
"No."
"Then shut up," she whispered, and bit.
Outside?
A second crash the sound of someone yelling "MY LASER SWORD, YOU WHORE!"
Inside?
Pure heat fingernails scraping down backs Tongues tangled in tension long overdue.
When it was over, they lay breathless in the aftermath—sweat-slicked and satisfied somewhere in the lair, Ava and Maya had either killed each other or were now arguing in interpretive dance.
Sam turned her head and whispered, "Still Saturday."
Lilly grinned. "Still sinning."