By the time Dean and Arion finally returned to their private suite, Dean had discovered a new form of exhaustion.
It was not physical… social exhaustion. The social batteries died, never to return again.
Dean stepped into the suite, stopped in the middle of the room, and stared at nothing.
Arion closed the door behind them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The quiet felt almost indecent.
The soft hum of the suite's climate system mocking them, the dim city lights beyond the glass wall, and the weight of the day finally settling on them.
Dean exhaled.
"I am never getting married again."
Arion slowly and gracefully unbuttoned his cuff links, his wedding band, the one Dean had given him as an engagement ring, catching the light. "That is convenient."
Dean turned his head. "Do not sound pleased."
"I am deeply pleased."
"You are insufferable."
"I am your husband."
Dean closed his eyes. "You are going to abuse that title until I develop immunity."
"No."
"No?"
