The morning light was soft and honey-colored as it slowly filled the window. The air billowed in, slightly shuffling the curtains, mixing the scent of sea with freshly laundered linens.
Rook stirred first, though barelyâhis hand flexed against fabric, brushing Lucanisâ side. The older man woke silently, his dark lashes fluttered open, umber eyes falling on the soft head of hair resting on his bare chest. They lay there for a quiet moment, half tangled in the sheets, the world unhurried around them.
Lucanis murmured something in Antivan, rubbing Rook's shoulder. Rook didn't know what the words were, but he knew Lucanis was letting him know to get up. Lucanis eased upright with grace, and there was a tenderness in the way he smoothed Rookâs hair before slipping away.
Rook pouted at the loss of the assassin's body under him, prompting Lucanis to chuckle fondly. He reached for the white shirt draped across the footboard. The faint swish of fabric was a small, grounding sound in the morning stillness as Rook's senses came back to him.
Still laid back in bed, he watched Lucanis dress, one arm laid lazily across his chest. âHey, Lucanis,â he said, his voice rough with sleep. âHow do you say 'make coffee' in Antivan?â
Lucanis glanced up at him, mouth curling into a small, amused smile. âPrepara caffè.â
Rook repeated it, crinkling his nose and frowning because it didn't come out like the soft poetry Lucanis made it sound like.
Lucanisâ laugh was soft, genuine. âNot bad. But I suspect youâll never need to tell me to make coffee.â
"True." Rook smirked at him and sat up, his hair once again ruffled from the pillows. âYou spoil me."
Lucanis had finished buttoning his shirt and was on to his vest. âYou deserve it," he said softly and pointedly, meeting Rook's eyes briefly. He meant it.
Rook beamed, basking in Lucanis' simply romantic accolades. The blush on his face carried down to his neck and chest. Honestly, that was a big reason why Lucanis said these things.
"Even if you're going to make us late," Lucanis added, a bit chastising. He nodded towards Rook's clothes âCome, corazĂłn. We should not keep Emmerich waiting.â
As he moved to the desk where his pocket watch waited, he heard the rustling sheets as Rook finally got out of bed.
âNothing like corpses and politics first thing in the morning,â Rook muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
Lucanis smiled and, once Rook had his shirt and pants on, padded over to kiss his cheek -- a reward for getting dressed. "At least you'll get to play with Manfred."
That put a smile on Rook's face, he noticed as he turned to leave the bedroom. Lucanis was halfway through the doorway when Rook called again, voice soft but playful.
âPrepara caffè, Lucanis.â
Lucanis paused, his hand on the doorframe. The sound of those wordsâclumsy but earnestâseeped into him like the warmth of his lover through a thin shirt. He turned his head just slightly, and his reply came out quieter, almost to himself, the Antivan smooth and intimate on his tongue.
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