Imagine: years in the future, when all this “stop the gods from coming back” mess has died down and things are somewhat calm. The worst Cassie has had to deal with recently is some really passive aggressive sniping with - idk, the Senate or something over some policies they want to enact.
Pritkin feels comfortable enough to leave Cassie alone now because she doesn’t have like all the forces of evil trying to kill her anymore, so he joins back up with the Circle because he has to feed his adrenaline addiction somehow.
And the first time he comes home from a several-day mission, he walks in on Cassie just digging in to this massive, idk, calorie bomb pizza or burrito or something, insert favorite junk food dish here. And he just leans against the door jamb watching her until something alerts her to his return, and she looks up after taking a huge bite and just freezes, like she froze time but only on herself.
They just stare at each other for like a minute, Pritkin blank-faced and Cassie with wide eyes and a steady flush working its way across her face, until she slowly resumes eating, watching him watch her. And then this happens:
“So, who do I have to thank for bringing this to you.”
“Oh c’mon, you talked the cook into stuffing me with all kinds of healthy things-”
“That was years ago, are you ever going to-”
“I’m allowed to indulge now and again, we agreed-”
“So I’m not going to find several days’ worth of fast food wrappers stuffed in the trash?”
“Don’t you dare. And it wasn’t Marco.”
“And what do you care anyway? You’re just going to work it off me anyway!”
“Yes, that’s true. We better start now then.”
And Cassie scowls at him and says, “No, I’m going to enjoy this *insert junk food here*, who knows when I’ll get to have it again.”
And Pritkin just starts slowly undoing all of his belts, draping them on the table, while Cassie stubbornly keeps eating but can’t keep her eyes off of him for one minute because he’s subtly, like, flexing his biceps and displaying his forearms and working those gentleman’s hands and, damnit, that’s cheating. He’s cheating, so she doubles down on eating with a mulish expression. And he quirks an eyebrow at her and casually removes his T-shirt, ruffling his crazy hair and goddamnit, now she can’t stop thinking about his hair and her fingers in it. And then he stalks toward her and she freezes again because she knows what happens next, she’ll get tossed over his shoulder and dragged away from food nirvana and noooooooo-
Except all he does is lean over her, real close so she can feel his heat and smell the gun powder and magic that defines him. She keeps him in her sights, turning towards him and tilting her head back to look at him. And he brings a hand up to thumb something away from the corner of her mouth, dragging along her bottom lip and his eyes are so intense-
And that’s as far as it goes because she’s eating in the Court’s dining room and there could be children present. So he blandly informs her that he’ll be upstairs when she’s done and leaves, and she still can’t keep her eyes off of him because there’s muscles shifting under skin, until he rounds the corner and moves out of sight.
She sits there for a minute, maybe two, fighting down the want that he so easily instigated, damn him. And she looks down at her food, and while a few minutes ago it was heaven on a plate, now it just looks sad. There’s congealing grease and it flops over limply in her hands. It’s just sad. So she puts it down and shifts upstairs because despite how many dinner parties she now attends, there are still a few perks to the job.
And she’s right; Pritkin helps her burn off that meal and more.
