Chapter 86: Chapter 86: Worth it.

The rest of the days unfolded with a strange, almost disarming normalcy.

Rafael stopped watching for disaster to happen out of nowhere.

Gregoris noticed the moment it happened. The subtle shift in posture, the way Rafael no longer positioned himself with half his attention on escape routes or social calculations. He walked beside him instead of a step behind or ahead. He leaned in when he spoke. He complained freely, laughed more easily, and argued without the undercurrent of readiness to withdraw.

Trust, settling into place.

They explored the coastal towns, stone streets warmed by sun, and markets loud with color and scent. Rafael tasted everything – fresh bread torn open by hand, seafood still warm from the grill, and fruit so ripe it bled sweetness down his fingers. He argued with vendors, charmed them, and forgot himself enough to bargain badly and laugh about it afterward.

And then there was the ice cream.

Rafael discovered it the first afternoon, a small shop tucked between whitewashed walls, its display shimmering with absurd colors and delicate handwritten labels. He tried one flavor.

Then another.

Then he declared, with all the authority of a man who had never before been given the freedom to indulge without commentary, that he was conducting “a thorough cultural investigation.”

Gregoris, watching from the shade, had said nothing.

By the fourth serving, Rafael’s eyes had begun to shine a little too brightly, his movements slowing just a fraction, his scent warming with contentment and sugar.

“You are approaching a poor decision,” Gregoris had observed calmly.

Rafael, spoon in hand, had lifted his chin. “I am approaching happiness.”

“You are approaching nausea.”

Rafael had waved him off. “I am an adult. I can manage frozen dairy.”

Twenty minutes later, he was lying back on a bench, eyes closed, one hand pressed lightly to his stomach, pride wounded but body thankfully spared actual rebellion thanks to the exact timing of the herbal tea Gregoris had appeared with, as if summoned by the universe itself.

“You planned this,” Rafael had accused weakly.

“I anticipated it,” Gregoris corrected.

“You enjoy being right.”

“Yes.”

Rafael had huffed, then smiled despite himself.

Gregoris remained, as always, outwardly composed. Aloof to strangers, efficient with staff, unreadable to anyone who didn’t know how to look. But Rafael had begun to look.

He poked at that calm with questions, with teasing, and with attempts to drag reactions out of him. Commented on his expressionlessness. On the way he evaluated menus like tactical documents. On the fact that he could turn a casual stroll into a perfectly secured route without ever appearing to try.

And Gregoris, who had once cornered and courted and conquered with ruthless authority, poked back.

Dry remarks delivered at the perfect moment. A hand at Rafael’s back when he wasn’t paying attention. A look that said ’I see you, even when he pretended not to.’

By the final evening, as the sea darkened and the sky bled into deep violet, Rafael stood on the terrace of the villa with a cup of something warm in his hands, watching the horizon.

“We’re really going back tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes,” Gregoris replied from behind him.

Rafael didn’t tense at the closeness. Didn’t turn away. He simply leaned back, letting the warmth of Gregoris’s presence settle behind him.

“I don’t dread it the way I thought I would,” he admitted.

Gregoris was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, “Good.”

Gregoris moved closer, his arms wrapping around him in a firm grip that spoke of both possession and protection in equal measure.

Rafael let himself rest there for a heartbeat, then tilted his head just enough to glance back at him, a faint, knowing smile curving his mouth.

“…You’ve gotten softer,” he murmured.

One silver brow lifted in immediate, regal offense.

“I have not,” Gregoris said.

Rafael’s smile widened. “You would have never stood like this a few weeks ago. You’d have been watching the horizon for threats instead of holding your omega like the world is allowed to pause.”

Gregoris studied him for a second, expression unreadable.

Then he leaned down and kissed him.

Rafael made a quiet, pleased sound against his mouth.

When Gregoris pulled back, his eyes were focused and clearly possessive.

“I am not softer,” he said. “I am selective.”

Rafael laughed under his breath. “Of course you are.”

Gregoris’s arms tightened a fraction. “I have always been softer with you.” The warmth of his breath brushed past Rafael’s ear, making him shudder despite himself.

Rafael huffed a quiet laugh and twisted just enough in his hold to look up at him. “You dismantled my date using an outdated courting system that everyone else had the decency to forget,” he said dryly. “You threatened Augustus on said date with blowing up his very expensive ether car.” He jabbed a finger lightly into Gregoris’s chest. “And then you actively stalked me.”

Gregoris had the audacity to smile wider.

“Yes,” he said, entirely unrepentant. “Very soft, compared to my usual methods.”

Rafael stared at him for a second, then shook his head. “You are impossible.”

“And yet,” Gregoris replied, leaning down just enough that their foreheads nearly touched, “you’re still here.”

Rafael’s mouth curved despite his attempt at indignation. “…Against my better judgment.”

Gregoris’s voice dropped, low and certain. “Your better judgment brought you to me.”

Rafael snorted softly. “My better judgment also once baked you poisoned cookies.”

Gregoris’s brow rose. “Gifted,” he corrected. “With a very polite note.”

“You didn’t have to eat all of them,” Rafael said. “And you definitely didn’t have to pretend you enjoyed them. I knew you don’t like sweets.”

“I don’t,” Gregoris agreed.

Rafael tilted his head, a small, smug smile forming. “So why did you finish the box?”

Gregoris looked at him for a long moment, the sea and evening light reflected in his eyes.

“Because you made them,” he said simply. “And because you were watching to see if I would.”

Rafael blinked. “That’s not an answer. That’s a psychological assessment.”

“It’s both.”

He leaned in just enough for their foreheads to touch, speaking softly.

“I don’t like sweets,” Gregoris repeated. “But I like my sweet mate.”

Rafael groaned. “That was terrible.”

“It was accurate.”

Rafael laughed despite himself, the sound light and unguarded. “You’re impossible.”

“Yes,” Gregoris said, arms settling around him again. “And you are mine. That reminds me of something. I will speak with Marin and schedule a checkup for the bond’s stability.”

Rafael blinked. “Why? I’m better now.”

“Because I’m dominant,” Gregoris replied calmly, like stating a logistical fact, “and the adjustment is harder on you.”

Rafael stared at him. “You’re planning medical appointments now?”

“I plan outcomes,” Gregoris corrected. “This is one of them.”

Rafael huffed. “I feel fine.”

“You feel fine,” Gregoris agreed. “That does not mean everything is finished settling.”

There was no threat in his tone, no overbearing command, just certainty that had once been terrifying and now, infuriatingly, felt like safety.

“…You really don’t do anything halfway,” Rafael muttered.

Gregoris’s mouth curved faintly. “No.”

“And you’re going to worry about me even when I tell you not to.”

“Yes.”

Rafael shook his head, then leaned back into him anyway. “You’re exhausting.”

Gregoris rested his chin lightly against Rafael’s hair. “You’re worth the effort.”

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