[ People had stared. People are staring now, discretely and not. Enri suspects some of them are past failed puppies, and others remember the altercation the last time he and Darius were here. And some, sure, are probably a little weirded out.

What with Darius half in his lap. ]

You look like you belong right here.

[ He'd said the same thing this morning, when he'd woken to find Darius in his arms, both of them groggy, both of them happy. (He had carried that image with him all day, had been unable to concentrate on anything but the dwindling hours between himself and the moment he would see Darius again.)

Enri's hand drifts lazily down the back of Darius's neck. In the other, he holds a cocktail picked out for him, because it was either order his old fallback or trust Darius to know what's best for him. (Daddy always knows what's best for him. He'd hummed that in Daddy's ear at the bar.) He lifts to drink as he listens, getting his first taste of what Darius knows is best -

And pauses over it, surprised, his eyes flickering to the man beside him.

Are you comfortable, Enri?

His lips part, flashing faint white, and his heart staggers its beat. His insides flutter. His cheeks burn with an almost-immediate buzz and an almost-immediate excitement.

His drink is laced with honey. (Daddy's fingers were laced with honey -)

He shakes his head slowly, then angles for another kiss; he waits there, taking nothing. Inviting. (Pleading.) ]

Not even a little. You're instigating.

[ And, a slight lowering of his chin, his eyes bright and soulfully pleading - though his smile hasn't wavered. ]

I love it. I love you. And my point was, whether we're precisely people or not, we're the only ones who matter. If you're comfortable, I'm happy, even when you're slipping me honey like a goddamned roofie.

[ And, innocently enough - ]

Daddy.