Damian held Gabriel's hand until the last second. He lingered longer than necessary, brushing his thumb again over Gabriel's pulse—steady, warm, and entirely his.
Only when he was sure Gabriel's shoulders had fully relaxed into the chair again, and the firelight had softened the edges of the room into something domestic, did he pull away.
"Don't fall asleep at the desk," he murmured, glancing at the familiar sprawl of Gabriel's limbs across his half of the workspace. "Edward will file a report."
"He'll get over it," Gabriel called lazily after him, already leaning to steal another one of Damian's pens.
Damian exhaled a slow breath as he stepped out of the study, shutting the door with deliberate quiet behind him.
The shift hit immediately.
The moment he crossed into the corridor, the warmth dimmed. His expression hardened, and his posture straightened. The storm he'd tucked behind calm words and affectionate banter clawed at the edges of his spine.
