For several weeks, nothing particularly catastrophic happened.
Dean considered that a remarkable achievement.
There were no emergency military deployments, no unexpected visits from foreign princes, no mysterious laboratories requiring immediate investigation, and, most importantly, no phone calls informing him that his husband had developed another previously undocumented biological ability.
Alamina continued functioning.
Draxil remained under Amaru's increasingly stable authority.
And Arion, apparently having exhausted his capacity for causing trouble, spent most evenings at home.
Dean approved.
He was approaching his third trimester, and his stomach had become large enough that getting out of bed required considerably more planning than he appreciated. Their son had also developed an impressive talent for becoming active whenever Dean attempted to sleep, although he usually settled once Arion rested a hand against the bump and released his pheromones.
