By the time Lucas arrived, Dean had already been told three separate times that he needed to sleep.
He had ignored all three.
The recovery room had been rearranged to accommodate family without turning the royal medical wing into an unofficial reception hall, with additional chairs brought in along the windows and the lights lowered enough that Dean no longer felt as though he were lying beneath another surgical lamp. Minerva had somehow arrived carrying a folded baby blanket despite their son being safely inside an incubator several rooms away, while Otto stood near her with the expression of a man who had abandoned an imperial gala and had no intention of explaining himself to anyone.
Lucas reached the bed first.
