Pairing: Gris Rubion x Reader (2nd POV)
Synopsis: It's odd that your husband escapes every night to who knows where. You can't help but think the worst.
Warnings/Tags/Notes: Fluff, mentions of a spider and snake, humor, just a tad bit suggestive, i didn't think it would be this long, been a while since i wrote for dada man Gris
- 🎶 In My Life: The Beetles
The first time you woke up, you didn't think much of it. You were still half asleep, eyes barely open as you shifted beneath the blankets. The room was dark and quiet, illuminated only by faint moonlight filtering through the curtains and the alarm clock by the bedside.
Instinctively, you reached toward the other side of the bed, hoping to find your husband and pull yourself closer to his warmth. Instead, your hand brushed over empty sheets.
You frowned. "Gris?" His name left your lips in a sleepy mumble.
No answer. You only heard your voice ring through the otherwise silent room.
For a moment, you stared at the vacant spot beside you. Maybe he couldn't sleep. Maybe he went to get water. Maybe he stepped outside for some air. Whatever the reason, it can't be that important. You trust that he will make it back to bed in no time.
With a tired sigh, you rolled onto your side and pulled the blanket closer around yourself.
He'll be back. The thought was enough to ease your mind. Within minutes, sleep claimed you once more.
By morning, Gris was lying beside you again as though he never left at all.
“Where did you go last night?” You questioned.
It was a little later in the morning. The both of you were now awake and getting dressed for whatever the day had in store. He was buckling his belt when he heard your question. His gloved hands paused as he looked over your shoulder.
“Went to get water,” he smiled and went back to securing the leather around the loops of his pants.
You hummed, working on your hair in front of the mirror. With one hand holding up your hair, your other hand went down to the nightstand to pick up the hair tie and a little detail caught your attention.
Usually, when someone gets water, they bring it back to their room. Most of the time. But if you knew one thing, you spent enough years with Gris to know that he wasn't the type to leave his cup of water in the kitchen or somewhere else. He always brought it back, in case he got thirsty again or you got thirsty.
“Gris,” you called out once more.
“Yes?” The man was working on smoothing out his hair, putting his regular hat on.
“Where's the cup of water?”
That seemed to get his attention. He cleared his throat and crossed the room to help with your hair. “Left it in the kitchen,” he answered, taking the hair tie in his hands and doing your hair for you.
“Why’d you leave it?” You watched as he worked your hair with hair.
“I didn't comprehend what I was doing,” he chuckled, a light pink coming to his ears. “All I wanted to do was go back to sleep.”
You couldn't help but smile at that. The explanation was flimsy at best, and under any other circumstance you might have teased him for it. But the way he carefully gathered your hair in his hands, making sure not to tug too hard, made the question drift from your mind.
"Mm." You relaxed beneath his touch. "That's very unlike you."
"It is," he admitted. “I guess I was really tired.”
A small laugh escaped you.
The years you'd spent together had taught you every little habit he possessed. The way he always folded his clothes before bed. The way he checked the locks twice before sleeping. The way he remembered every tiny thing about you without fail.
If you complained about being cold once, he would spend the rest of the evening making sure you had a blanket. If you mentioned liking a certain snack, somehow it would appear in the bedside drawer next to your hair accessories a few days later. He never put them in the kitchen anymore, you both learned that the hard way.
And if either of you woke thirsty in the middle of the night, he always brought back enough water for two. It was one of the countless reasons you loved him.
The finished hairstyle rested neatly against your shoulders. Gris gave it a final adjustment before lowering his hands. "There," he said quietly.
You glanced at your reflection, then at him. His eyes met yours through the mirror, warm and impossibly soft. You simply admired him. The gentle curve of his smile. The familiar scar on the left side of his face. The fondness that seemed to settle into every glance he gave you. Sometimes you wondered what you had done to deserve someone who cared so deeply.
As if sensing your thoughts, Gris leaned down. His lips pressed softly against your cheek. The kiss lingered for only a second, but it was enough to make warmth spread through your chest.
There they were. Those three words. The words he spoke so often that they had become woven into the fabric of your life, yet somehow never lost their meaning.
His expression brightened immediately. "Good," he murmured, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.
The rest of the day passed by far easier than anyone had expected.
When the request first came in, the descriptions alone had been enough to make everyone prepare for the worst. Reports spoke of monstrous trash beasts terrorizing the area, destroying property, and frightening travelers.
What the team found instead was… Well, underwhelming.
"That's it?" you had asked.
One of the creatures barely reached the height of a doorway. Another was even smaller. You distinctly remembered watching one of them struggle to climb over a fence before tumbling backward into a pile of garbage. The dramatic reports suddenly made a lot less sense. Needless to say, the men handled the situation without much difficulty.
You and Riyo had quickly drifted off to the side while the others worked.
"You know," Riyo mused, watching one of the beasts get knocked over with embarrassing ease, "I was expecting something a little more terrifying."
Another beast let out what was supposed to be an intimidating roar. It sounded suspiciously close to a squeaky toy. You and Riyo exchanged a look, then immediately burst out laughing.
By the time the mission wrapped up, everyone was in a noticeably lighter mood. The trip back to headquarters felt more like a casual outing than the return from a completed assignment. People split off to shower, change clothes, grab food, or collapse onto the nearest couch.
You took a little time to freshen up yourself before finally making your way toward the common area. The moment you stepped through the doors, strong arms immediately wrapped around your waist.
A surprised laugh escaped you. "Hello to you too."
Gris hummed against the side of your head. The man didn't even bother pretending he had other plans, he simply pulled you closer and closer, until there wasn't even an inch of space left between you.
Several people in the room looked over. Nobody appeared surprised. In fact, a few looked completely unsurprised. One arm stayed securely around your waist while the other settled comfortably along your side. Eventually the two of you found a place to sit or rather, Gris found a place to sit and promptly pulled you down with him.
The second you settled beside him, his arm draped across your shoulders. Five minutes later, his hand had migrated to your waist. Ten minutes later, it rested comfortably on your hip. At some point your legs ended up stretched across his lap. That had apparently been a mistake. Because now Gris had a hand resting absentmindedly on your thigh while listening to whatever conversation was happening around him.
Not that he seemed particularly invested in the discussion. Every time someone looked over, his attention was on you. His thumb brushed gentle circles against your leg or your hip, or your waist. Whichever part of you happened to be within reach at the time.
"You know," Riyo said eventually, eyeing the two of you from another chair, "There should be a limit to how affectionate married people are allowed to be in public."
"I'm not doing anything besides loving my wife. Is that now a crime?" Gris replied.
The entire room stared at him. His hand was literally resting on your thigh. Another arm was around your shoulders. You were practically tucked against his side.
"Right," Riyo deadpanned.
The teasing should have ended there. Unfortunately for Gris, Enjin decided to join the conversation. The man dragged a chair across the floor and dropped into it backwards, resting his arms across the backrest as he looked between the two of you.
"Oh, this is rich," he grinned.
You already knew that look. It was the look Enjin got whenever he was about to become a problem. Gris knew it too. His expression immediately flattened.
"You know," he began pointing directly at Gris., "I've never seen someone so completely smitten."
"I would rather you didn't."
"Too bad." The grin on Enjin's face somehow became even more insufferable before he looked at you. "Do you know this man would do absolutely anything for you?"
You laughed. "That's a little dramatic."
Gris's gaze immediately snapped toward Enjin. There was something in it that made the other man pause for half a second. Gris gave a warning, a very clear one that said ‘stop talking’.
Most people probably wouldn't have noticed.nYou certainly didn't. To you, it just looked like Gris was getting embarrassed. Which only made your smile soften.
"That's sweet," you said.
Enjin let out a sound that was suspiciously close to choking, "Sweet?"
Gris continued staring at him. Enjin wisely chose not to elaborate. "Very sweet," he corrected.
Gris looked significantly relieved by your response. Before anyone could continue the conversation, you shifted closer. Your arms slipped around his neck naturally like it was the most normal thing in the world, which, for the two of you, it was.
Gris immediately relaxed. One hand settled against your side while the other rested at your waist. His shoulders loosened. The tension that had appeared moments ago disappeared almost instantly.
The conversation moved on soon after. Yet every now and then, whenever you weren't looking, Enjin would glance toward Gris. And every single time, Gris would already be glaring at him. As if silently reminding him that some things were better left unsaid.
The second time, you noticed immediately.
Maybe it was because you had already experienced it once before. Maybe it was because your body had become so accustomed to his presence that it recognized his absence before you were even fully awake.
Whatever the reason, the moment consciousness returned, your hand instinctively drifted across the mattress.
Searching and expecting, only to find nothing. Your fingers brushed over empty cold sheets. The realization pulled you further away from sleep.
Slowly, you opened your eyes. Darkness greeted you. The room was nearly identical to the first night, bathed in soft moonlight that slipped through the curtains and painted pale streaks across the floor.
You blinked a few times before pushing yourself upright. The blankets pooled around your lap. "Gris?" you called quietly, yet there was no response.
You rubbed at your eyes. Perhaps he was in the restroom. That thought was enough to keep your concern at bay as you turned toward the connected door.
You waited and waited. The longer you stared, the more you realized something. There was no light beneath the door. No movement or the sound of running water. The restroom was empty.
Your brows knit together. That was strange. For a brief moment, you considered getting up. Maybe he was talking with the boss about something. Maybe he couldn't sleep again. Maybe he was reading somewhere. The possibilities were endless.
Yet the room was warm. The bed was comfortable. And the exhaustion clinging to your limbs felt far heavier than your curiosity.
With a sigh, your gaze drifted toward the nightstand. Another small detail caught your attention. There was no cup of water waiting beside the bed.
The spot where it usually sat was empty. A strange feeling of confusion settled in your chest and it was caused by a collection of tiny details that didn't quite fit together.
You stared at the nightstand for another moment before shaking your head. You were overthinking. That was all. There had to be a reasonable explanation. And if there wasn't, you could always ask him in the morning. The thought eased your mind enough.
Settling back down beneath the blankets, you turned onto your side and pulled the covers closer to your chest. The empty space beside you felt larger than it should have.
You needed to fall asleep before your mind decided to keep wandering. Tomorrow morning, you would ask him where he'd gone. Tomorrow morning, he would give you an explanation. And everything would make sense again.
With that final thought, you forced yourself to relax. Eventually, exhaustion won. And once more, sleep carried you away.
The first thing you felt was warmth. The second was the familiar weight of an arm draped securely across your waist.
You blinked awake slowly. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. And there he was. Exactly where he was supposed to be. Gris slept soundly beside you, one arm holding you against his chest as though he had never left at all.
For a moment, your concerns from the night before faded. Looking at him now, it was difficult to imagine anything being wrong. Carefully, you pushed yourself onto your elbows. His hair was slightly tousled from sleep. A few stubborn strands had fallen across his forehead.
Without thinking, your hand rose to his face. Your fingertips brushed against the familiar stubble along his jaw. Then the scar. The bridge of his nose. The corner of his mouth. You had traced these features countless times over the years. Every line and imperfection had become familiar to you.
Your fingers lingered against his lips. Almost immediately, his brow twitched. A second later, his eyes slowly opened. Sleep still lingered in them. Gris simply looked at you before he smiled. And before you could pull your hand away, he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss against your fingertips.
Your heart immediately betrayed you. The simple gesture sent warmth flooding through your chest. You had been married to him for years. It shouldn't still affect you this much.
And yet, it did. Every single time.
Another kiss found your knuckles. You nearly forgot what you wanted to ask, but you forced yourself to stay focused.
"You left again." The words came out softer than intended. His expression remained calm. You shifted slightly closer. Maybe if you sounded gentle enough, maybe he would tell you the truth. "Where did you go?" you asked quietly.
Gris blinked as his expression immediately changed. He didn't look guilty or nervous. He seemed more concerned than anything.
Your entire body froze. "A what?"
The panic was instant. You sat upright so quickly that the blankets tangled around your legs. "A spider?!"
Gris reached for you immediately. "It was small."
"There was a spider in our bed?"
"It wasn't in the bed. It was on the blanket."
You looked absolutely horrified. The color seemed to drain from your face. Meanwhile, Gris was trying, and failing, not to laugh. You hated spiders. Everyone knew you hated spiders. Even the smallest ones were enough to ruin your day.
The image immediately began forming in your head. Something crawling across the blankets near you while you were sleeping. You visibly shuddered.
You buried your face in your hands. A noise somewhere between a groan and a whine escaped you. Gris finally lost the battle against his amusement. A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest.
You glared at him while he smiled. Then his hand rose to your hair. Slowly, gently, he smoothed down the strands that had become disheveled during your panic. The familiar motion immediately soothed some of your distress.
"It won't be back. I took it outside."
You stared at him as his hand continued combing through your hair. He was far too calm and reassuring. Eventually, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your forehead.
You huffed, "From the spider?"
You narrowed your eyes. He looked entirely sincere. The sight made your shoulders finally relax. Another kiss found your forehead. This one lingered a bit longer than usual and despite your lingering horror at the existence of a spider anywhere near your bed, your heart still fluttered.
Because somehow, even while discussing your worst nightmare, Gris still managed to make you feel completely cared for.nThe man smiled against your skin.
You sighed dramatically, “And if another one appears?" You looked at him expectantly.
Gris didn't even hesitate. "I'll take care of that one too."
That answer, at least, was exactly what you wanted to hear.
The third night, you were annoyed. Not worried or confused. Annoyed for a multitude of reasons.
First, the room was freezing. A cold front had rolled through earlier in the evening, and despite the blankets piled across the bed, warmth only lasted for so long when the person responsible for most of it kept disappearing.
To make matters worse, neither of you had gotten around to doing laundry. Which meant your options for sleepwear had been limited. You had settled for one of your older nightgowns. One that Gris happened to be particularly fond of.
The memory alone made you roll your eyes. Curled beneath the blankets, you reached across the mattress. It was empty, again. You let out a long sigh. This time, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, you stayed awake, waiting for him to return. It took a while, but you had time to kill. The whole night was ahead of you.
After some boring hour, the doorknob turned. Your head immediately snapped toward the door. The room door opened quietly and there stood Gris. The second he spotted you sitting upright in bed with your arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he froze.
He sensed your cold stare from across the room and testing the waters, slowly, Gris stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him then he locked it, still clearly aware that he had been caught.
You pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed.
His eyebrows lifted. "What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" you repeated. Your bare feet crossed the floor. "You keep disappearing. The better question is what are you doing? You vanish every night."
Despite your irritation, his expression remained surprisingly calm, almost amused. That should have annoyed you more. Instead, you stopped directly in front of him. And immediately noticed something. A faint smell.
Your nose wrinkled. You leaned closer to sniff his shirt. There was one distinct smell and another one that you weren't sure what it was. His ears immediately turned pink. "...Are you smelling me?"
"Why do you smell like smoke?"
His shoulders slumped. There it was. The look of someone caught red-handed. "I was with Enjin."
You narrowed your eyes, "Doing what?"
"He was taking a smoke break."
Your expression remained suspicious, “At one in the morning?”
Gris rubbed the back of his neck. "I lost track of time."
The explanation sounded reasonable enough. Almost disappointingly reasonable. "So you've been leaving every night to talk to Enjin?"
"I just happened to run into him."
The answer came quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. Before you could question him further, you noticed his attention shift. His eyes dropped. Due to the silence, you heard a faint gulp. You tracked his eyes, they went up to your face and back down once more.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
His ears somehow became even redder. The realization hit you a second later. You looked down and back up. Immediately, you crossed your arms to cover the sight he was seeing. "...Seriously?"
A guilty smile appeared. And just like that, your carefully prepared interrogation started falling apart. "Gris. We are discussing why you keep disappearing."
"You absolutely are not."
His smile widened. Before you could continue, his hands settled at your waist. A second later, the floor vanished beneath your feet.
As easily as if you weighed nothing at all, he lifted you into his arms. "Conversation over,” he insisted.
"It can continue in bed."
Within moments, he had carried you back across the room. The blankets were pulled aside. You were deposited gently onto the mattress. And before you could escape, Gris climbed in beside you. Immediately, warmth returned. One arm wrapped around your waist. The familiar heat of his body chased away the cold that had been bothering you for the last hour.
You hated how effective that was. "...You're avoiding the question."
"We can discuss it tomorrow." A kiss landed against your forehead. The interruption was shameless. "Goodnight."
Yet even as he settled beside you, holding you close, one thought remained stubbornly lodged in the back of your mind. His explanations made sense. Enough sense. Every single one of them and somehow, that only made the pattern feel stranger.
Sleep came easily that next night.
No restless thoughts lingered. No irritation remained from the argument that had barely qualified as an argument. The warmth beside you had eventually done what it always did, melting away your frustration until exhaustion finally pulled you under.
For a while, there was nothing. There was no dream to entertain your theories of what was happening. But as quickly it felt right, something felt wrong.
At first it was only a sensation. A strange pressure against your chest. Your sleeping mind struggled to understand it. The feeling was neither painful nor uncomfortable. It simply existed, moving with a slow deliberate motion that seemed impossible to ignore.
Something brushed across your ribs then slid around your side. The sensation continued across your stomach and around your back. It felt like it was wrapping around your body.
Your dream finally began constructing an explanation.
Somehow, your brain decided that was the most logical answer. A large snake. The realization arrived with dreamlike certainty. You could almost feel its scales. Almost feel the smooth weight of it winding around your body. The creature slithered lower and around your waist, coiling there before moving further down toward your hips.
Something in your subconscious immediately sounded an alarm. Every instinct you possessed screamed that this was wrong. Your breathing quickened. The imagined pressure tightened and suddenly, your eyes flew open. A startled sound escaped your throat. Before you even fully understood what was happening, your hands grabbed the nearest thing they could find.
Gris. You practically threw yourself against him. Strong arms immediately wrapped around you.
"It's alright." His voice was low and gentle. One hand rested securely against your waist, slowly rubbing comforting circles through the fabric of your nightclothes. "It was just a dream."
Your heart was pounding. You buried your face against his shoulder while trying to catch your breath. For several moments you simply sat there clinging to him. The room remained dark and there was no giant snake in sight.
Eventually, your panic eased enough for confusion to take its place. "...Why did it feel so real?"
Gris hummed softly. You pulled back enough to look at him. His hair was slightly messy from sleep, though not nearly messy enough for someone who had supposedly just woken up.
A realization struck you. "Wait." You narrowed your eyes. "Why are you awake?"
His hand paused briefly before resuming its gentle movements against your waist. "You were moving around."
Your expression softened. "I was?"
"You were tossing and turning." His thumb brushed absentmindedly across your side. "I didn't want you to wake up frightened."
The confession immediately stole some of the irritation from your chest. Still, the strange feeling lingered. You glanced down at yourself.
Gris immediately recognized that tone. "No?"
Before he could stop you, you leaned across the bed and switched on the small lamp resting on the nightstand. Warm golden light filled the room. You promptly pulled the blankets down and checked your legs. You even lifted part of the blanket and inspected beneath it.
The bed was completely empty of snakes. Or spiders, for that matter. Your confusion only deepened. "But it felt real. It felt exactly like something was wrapped around me." You stared suspiciously at the mattress.
Gris was trying very hard not to smile. That immediately made you suspicious.
"...Why are you looking at me like that?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, but he smiled. A second later, his hands settled firmly at your waist. Before you could protest, he effortlessly lifted you off the mattress.
"You need sleep." One arm settled securely around your back. The other rested across your waist, holding you in place. Gris simply pressed a kiss against the top of your head. "It was only a dream."
The steady beat of his heart echoed beneath your ear. You wanted to keep arguing. You really did. Instead, your eyes slowly began to grow heavy again. "...It felt real."
"I know." His voice had softened further, bringing another kiss to your hair. "Go back to sleep."
Your grip loosened against his shirt. The warmth surrounding you made it difficult to stay awake. Within minutes, your breathing had slowed. The tension left your body. And eventually, sleep claimed you once more.
Long after you drifted off, Gris remained awake. His hand rested exactly where it had been before. Across your waist. The same place that had unknowingly worked its way into your dream.
A small smile tugged at his lips. Carefully, he pulled the blanket higher around your shoulders and settled back against the pillows.
A couple more nights, he promised himself. Just a couple more. Then the secret would finally be worth it.
By the fourth night, you had almost started expecting something strange to happen. Not because you wanted it to, but because the last few nights had established an odd pattern.
A snake and a spider. Who knew what your sleeping brain would decide to torment you with next? Fortunately, exhaustion won before you could dwell on it.
Sleep claimed you quickly. And for a while, there was nothing in your mind besides a clear slate; however, gradually, a sensation emerged. It was very light in pressure and even held some warmth in it.
It didn't take long to realize that something was resting against your throat. Not enough to hurt or frighten you, but enough to make itself known. Your sleeping mind immediately began trying to explain it. A familiar large hand resting gently against your neck. The image formed without warning.
For some reason, your dream supplied the rest. The feeling of him leaning closer. The warmth of his body. The weight of his presence surrounding you. Your heartbeat began to quicken.
Some distant part of your brain recognized how unusual the situation was. Gris wasn't particularly bold. Affectionate? Absolutely. Attached to your side at every opportunity? Without question. But this? This wasn't something he had ever done before. And somehow that made the dream even more distracting.
The imagined sensation lingered. His hand just felt so light around your neck. The feeling of being completely surrounded by him. Your pulse continued climbing as the dream grew warmer and fuzzier.
Your thoughts became increasingly difficult to follow, but just as the peak of the dream was about to occur, you woke abruptly. Your eyes flew open and for several disorienting seconds, dream and reality blurred together.
The pressure around your throat vanished. Instead, you found yourself staring directly at Gris. "...Gris?"
The man immediately looked relieved. "You made me worried."
You blinked. His hand moved away from your neck, which came to find out he was not even holding it. Several strands had fallen across your throat while you slept. He had been carefully brushing them aside. Confusion washed through you, then embarrassment and even more confusion. "...What are you doing?"
Gris tilted his head. "You were having a strange dream."
Your face immediately warmed. "A dream?"
"You were huffing. Your heart rate was increasing too." Your entire face became hot. Unfortunately, he wasn't finished. "And you were getting warm."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You buried your face in your hands. The dream itself had already become difficult to remember. Only fragments remained. Sensations and feelings. A vague impression of warmth. Yet somehow that only made the embarrassment worse.
Gris gently pulled your hands away from your face. "You looked uncomfortable."
"I wasn't uncomfortable."
His eyebrow lifted. You immediately regretted saying that. The silence that followed was devastating, one that seemed to stretch forever. Slowly, Gris's other eyebrow joined the first. A quiet laugh escaped him. The sound made your embarrassment deepen further, but his expression softened as the amusement faded and the concern returned. "You alright?"
The simple question immediately made it harder to stay flustered. You nodded. "Yeah."
His hand settled briefly against your cheek. "Good."
The familiar gesture grounded you. Eventually, he shifted closer and opened an arm. An invitation. One you accepted without hesitation. You moved against him, resting your head on his shoulder. Almost immediately, his arm wrapped securely around you. It was exactly where you belonged.
Neither of you mentioned the dream again. Though judging by the faint smile that occasionally appeared on Gris's face whenever he glanced down at you, he was finding the entire situation far more amusing than he should have.
And judging by how stubbornly you refused to look him in the eye for the next several minutes. He definitely knew it.
After that night, you tried to stop thinking about it. You really did. Still, the problem wasn't just that he kept leaving in the middle of the night. It was everything that came after.
Every single morning there was already an explanation waiting for you. Not simple ones, either. It was never something simple such as: "I couldn't sleep," “I went for a walk,” or “I needed some air.” What took place instead were stories.
Maybe he heard a strange noise in the hallway, he needed to check something, or he needed to talk to someone. It was a bizarre chain of events that somehow required him to disappear for an hour at three in the morning.
And every explanation arrived suspiciously fast. Like he'd already rehearsed it before you even asked. The first few times, you accepted them. The next few times, you questioned them. Now they simply made you nervous because people who weren't hiding something usually didn't need to work that hard.
Unfortunately, once the thought appeared, it refused to leave. It lingered for days. Until eventually, during one of your shared days off, it slipped out.
The two of you were lying in bed together. Gris was stretched comfortably beside you, one arm around your waist while you rested against his chest.
The room was peacefully quiet and somehow that made the question even harder to ask. You stared at a loose thread on his shirt, getting some confidence to just ask, "...There’s something I need to ask."
You hesitated then forced yourself to say it, not beating around the bush, "Are you cheating on me?"
The effect was immediate. Gris completely froze. The arm around your waist tightened slightly before immediately loosening again. Scared of the nonexistent consequences, slowly, you lifted your head. The look on his face made your stomach drop. He looked mortified that such a question left your mouth.
"What?" The word came out almost strangled. You immediately regretted asking.
"No." His answer was instant. "No." His hands found your shoulders, looking at you deeply in the eyes. "Why would you think that?"
You looked away, "Because you keep sneaking out."
His expression somehow became even more distressed. "I am not sneaking out to see someone."
The question slipped out before you could stop it. Immediately, Gris went silent and that felt worse. Your heart sank. Because if there was a perfectly innocent explanation, surely he would have given it by now.
Instead, he looked trapped like he wanted to tell you, but he couldn't. He reached forward and took your hands. "If I cheated on you," he said slowly, "I'd lose you. And if I lost you, I'd deserve it." The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. Gris lowered his forehead against yours. "I wouldn't do that. I couldn't."
He looked completely serious. "If I cheated," he continued, "I'd have to be the dumbest man alive."
Despite everything, a laugh escaped you which caused the tension to break slightly. Gris looked relieved because now he could continue. For the first time since asking, you felt some of the fear ease.
He was right. Gris wasn't perfect. He could be stubborn, oblivious, and ridiculously overprotective. But he had never given you reason to doubt how much he loved you. Eventually the conversation drifted elsewhere. And by the time night arrived, you almost felt foolish for ever worrying.
Because when you woke sometime after midnight and instinctively reached toward the other side of the bed, it was empty.
The day felt surprisingly normal. In hindsight, that probably should have worried you.
After everything that had happened over the past week, you had expected Gris to be acting differently, nervous, distracted, maybe even secretive. Instead, he was frustratingly, suspiciously normal. He spent most of the day attached to your side, hovering nearby while you ate, trailing after you through headquarters, and finding any excuse to lace his fingers through yours. If anything, he seemed more affectionate than usual.
Which was saying something. By the time evening arrived, your earlier suspicions had nearly faded away. You had just finished washing up when the bathroom door opened behind you. Before you could turn around, strong arms slipped around your waist and pulled you backward against a familiar chest.
“There you are.” Gris hummed contentedly and buried his face against your shoulder. A moment later, soft lips brushed your neck more than once. A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.
You tilted your head, fighting back a laugh. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Maybe,” His answer was suspiciously unhelpful. You laughed anyway, and his arms tightened around you in response, “Come with me.”
You glanced over your shoulder, “Where?”
Immediately, every alarm bell in your head began ringing. Narrowing your eyes, you studied him carefully. Gris only smiled, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Please.” That was unfair.
He knew perfectly well how difficult it was to refuse him when he looked at you like that. A few minutes later after getting dressed, you found yourself to be led away, you found yourself following him through a familiar section of headquarters. The walk wasn’t particularly long, which only made your confusion grow when Gris finally stopped in front of a door you recognized instantly.
You blinked, “…Why are we here?”
Before Gris could answer, a loud crash sounded from inside.
“No, no, no! The stitching is wrong!” Another crash followed. “Why does art hate me!?”
You stared at the door, unfortunately, there was no offered explanation. Beside you, Gris looked completely unsurprised. To be fair, everyone already knew how August was. Chaotic and very motivated, but only when it came to his terms.
“I swear to the people above if this fabric moves one more—”
Gris calmly knocked and the silence fell so abruptly it was almost alarming. All it took was a second and the door flew open with enough force that you genuinely worried it might come off its hinges.
August stood in the doorway, white hair thoroughly disheveled, bright orange glasses slightly crooked, and fashionable overalls covered in enough loose threads to suggest he had been fighting a losing battle against several sewing projects at once. Judging by the dark circles beneath his eyes, sleep had not been part of his routine for at least a few days.
The moment he saw you, his eyes widened dramatically. “The beautiful wife is here!” Before you could react, he seized your wrist. “And the husband!” His other hand immediately latched onto Gris, “You two are late!”
“We arrived exactly when you told us to,” Gris said dryly.
You barely had time to process that statement before August dragged both of you into the studio. The room looked exactly as chaotic as you expected.
Bolts of fabric were piled across nearly every available surface. Sketches littered tables, chairs, and portions of the floor. Half-finished garments hung from mannequins positioned around the room like silent spectators, while spools of thread seemed to have multiplied into entire colonies overnight.
Somewhere beneath the mountain of creative destruction was probably a functioning workspace, but finding it would require either excavation equipment or divine intervention.
August; however, appeared completely at home in the chaos. Gris simply sighed like a man who had seen this exact scene far too many times before. Meanwhile, you stood in the middle of the disaster zone, increasingly convinced that whatever surprise Gris had planned, it was about to become everyone’s problem.
And on a couch near the far wall sat Enjin, completely relaxed with one arm resting along the back of the couch while a cigarette dangled lazily between his fingers. You were fairly certain the only reason August's studio hadn't burned to the ground was because Enjin was actively making the decision not to let it happen.
He noticed you looking and lifted a hand in greeting, "Hey, girl."
"Enjin?" A look of surprise was on your face. "...Why are you here?"
He took a slow drag before answering "For the love of the game. Kidding. I wanted to see how this goes."
That somehow explained absolutely nothing. Before you could question him any further, August suddenly materialized in front of you carrying a large decorative box. Where he'd gotten it from remained a mystery.
A dramatic gasp escaped him, "The moment has arrived!"
Your eyes immediately flicked toward Gris. He looked far too pleased with himself. Your confusion only deepened. With all the ceremony of a man unveiling a masterpiece, August carefully placed the box into your hands.
You hesitated, glancing between the three men. August looked excited enough to vibrate through the floor. Enjin looked entertained while Gris looked nervous. That last one caught your attention.
Slowly, you lifted the lid. The moment you saw the fabric inside, your breath caught.
Beautiful. There wasn't another word for it. The dress had been folded carefully, but even then you could see the incredible craftsmanship woven into every inch. Rich fabric. Intricate stitching. Delicate details that somehow felt elegant without being overwhelming. Every color had been chosen with care.
Every piece fit together perfectly, almost frighteningly perfectly. You reached out before you could stop yourself, fingertips brushing lightly across the material. It was stunning.
August immediately pointed at himself, "I know!”
A laugh escaped you. "You made this?"
"Of course, I am a visionary!"
Your attention drifted back toward Gris, only to find him already watching you with that same nervous smile as before. Gris immediately rubbed the back of his neck. The familiar gesture struck you instantly. It was the same thing he always did whenever he felt awkward or unsure of himself.
The same thing he'd been doing all week.
August gasped so dramatically you were surprised he didn't collapse. "Oh my god, she figured it out."
"The secret wasn't exactly difficult to solve," Enjin muttered.
You barely heard either of them. Your attention remained fixed on Gris.
He sighed, finally feeling relief from keeping up a front. "The reason I kept leaving at night..." The realization settled fully into place and suddenly every strange excuse, every late-night disappearance, every suspicious outing finally made sense. "I needed to meet with August."
"The reason I couldn't tell you," Gris continued, "Was because it was supposed to be a surprise."
Your gaze dropped to the dress in the box, beyond astonished someone would do all of this for you for a special occasion. "You were doing all of this for an anniversary gift?"
A faint blush spread across his face. You nearly melted on the spot. "I wanted it to be something you'd actually like,” he answered.
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. The moment he heard it, something in Gris visibly relaxed. The tension he'd been carrying all evening seemed to drain away. "There wasn't enough time during the day," he admitted. "You were always around."
"You do realize that's because you're always around. That's your fault."
"I know.” To his credit, he looked at least a little guilty. Only a little.
Focusing back on the gift at hand, you couldn't stop staring at the dress. Every detail was perfect. August truly outdid himself. After all, he worked hard with Gris to create something you would love.
Your throat tightened. When you looked up, Gris was watching you, waiting for your reaction with a nervousness that made the realization settle even deeper.
All those nights. All those disappearances. Every strange excuse led up to this moment.
You looked between him and the dress, rather curious to know the process. "What were you doing the first night?"
A faint flush appeared on his face. "I was asking our boss for time off."
He nodded, which had warmth spread through your chest. The second and third nights, as he explained, had been spent with August, discussing designs and details for the gift. According to an annoyingly delighted August, Gris had spent hours talking about fabrics, colors, and accessories to make sure everything was perfect.
You never would have guessed. Although these were only the first three nights, another memory surfaced. One you weren't particularly fond of for many reasons.
Your eyes narrowed as you asked the question, "What about that time when I dreamt of a snake?"
The room immediately fell silent. Out of embarrassment, Gris covered his face. "It wasn't a snake," he muttered. “It was a measuring tape."
"A measuring tape?" You also felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Maybe saying it was a snake was a bit of an overreaction, but it was what your mind processed at that moment. "You measured me while I was asleep?"
The explanation only made August and Enjin laugh harder. Unfortunately, it made sense and good on Gris for making you believe it was just a dream.
You remembered the last incident of when you'd actually woken up. The warmth of his hand near your throat. Or what your mind perceived it as, his hand around your throat.
Your face immediately heated. "...What about that night?"
Gris looked as though he wanted the floor to swallow him. "I was measuring your neck."
Everything clicked at once. The pressure on your neck. The heated dream. His strange comments afterward. The embarrassment you'd carried for days.
Across the room, August completely lost whatever composure he had left. You buried your face in your hands while the others laughed themselves breathless. At least Gris looked just as mortified as you felt.
The dress rested quietly in your lap. Beautiful and perfect. Tailored specifically for you. And suddenly, guilt settled heavily in your chest.
You had spent the entire week suspecting him. Wondering if he was hiding something from you. Wondering if there was someone else. Meanwhile, he had been losing sleep trying to make your anniversary special.
"...Gris." His attention immediately shifted to you. You looked down at the dress before quietly admitting, "I thought you were cheating on me."
His expression softened instantly, not blaming you for a single negative thought, "You had reasons."
He simply shrugged, "I would've thought the same thing."
Despite yourself, you laughed. The knot in your chest loosened slightly. Only for another problem to immediately take its place. You hadn't gotten him anything. The realization hit hard and you felt a pit start to grow in your stomach.
The anniversary had completely slipped your mind, and now here he was with a custom-made dress, a necklace, and days of effort behind it.
You had nothing. The guilt must have shown on your face because Gris immediately reached up and rested a hand against the back of your neck.
"You don't need to get me anything."
His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, and a familiar smile slowly appeared; The kind that always meant trouble.
"If it'll make you feel better," he said, "there is one thing I want. And that only thing,” His smile widened, "...is to take that dress off you."
The room erupted. August practically screamed while Enjin nearly choked laughing. You felt your soul leave your body.
Before either of them could recover, Gris guided you toward the door, realizing what he had said. Respectfully, this was not the time and place for that kind of talk.
The last thing you heard before it shut behind you was August shouting about the three days he'd spent making that dress.
Silence settled in the hallway besides shoes hitting the floor. You turned to stare at Gris and he stared right back before his gaze deliberately dropped to the dress box in your arms before returning to your face. The smile returned.
Your face immediately grew hot. "Oh no."
Suddenly, you understood exactly why he'd worked so hard to get those days off.
