"I will take that."
They sat side by side because Arion apparently had no intention of placing a table between them after the temple had already done enough damage for one day.
Dean noticed.
He did not comment.
The first plate arrived before he could decide whether that was romantic or tactically suffocating. Warm bread, olive oil, grilled prawns with lemon, roasted vegetables, and a fish dish that smelled like herbs, butter, and the kind of seaside peace Dean deeply resented on principle.
Arion placed a piece of bread on his plate.
Dean looked at it, then at him.
"Are you feeding me because I look unstable?"
"Yes."
"That was not even slightly subtle."
"I am not trying to be subtle."
Dean picked up the bread with narrowed eyes. "You are very lucky I like you."
"I am."
"You are supposed to say you love me."
"I love you," Arion said at once.
Dean froze.
The bread, unfortunately, did not save him.
