Hair still a little wild from sleep, T-shirt loose, movements slow in that way that said he hadn’t decided yet if he was fully awake. But his eyes—
sharp.
Already tracking.
Already clocking everything.
Law took it in the way Sage did everything—quiet, precise, filed without effort.
His focus narrowed without thought, the rest of the room dimming at the edges.
Sage moved straight into the chaos like it was a system he’d already mapped. Slid between bodies, snagged a piece of bacon off of Boston’s plate, ignored the immediate protest that followed.
“Hey—”
“Finders keepers,” Sage said, already biting into it.
Boston snorted. “Techie’s got a death wish.”
“Relax,” Sage shot back. “You’re not that scary.”
That pulled a laugh from one of Law’s brothers.
Sage grabbed a mug without looking, reached for the coffee pot on instinct—and missed it by an inch before correcting.
Small.
Barely there.
But it didn’t line up with the rest of him.
He was just a fraction off rhythm.
Boston pointed at him with a fork. “I don’t trust anyone who walks in and steals bacon like they’ve got rights.”
Sage didn’t even slow down. “You weren’t eating it.”
A couple of laughs broke out.
Boston flipped him off. “That was mine.”
Sage took a sip of coffee. “Past tense.”
That pulled a louder laugh—Boston included.
Sage grinned and reached for the honey, twisting the lid open with quick, efficient fingers.
Law pivoted, snagged his plate from the table, and moved in without announcing it. He stepped into the spot beside Sage at the counter, close enough that the heat of him registered—subtle, but there—and set his plate down.
Close enough that the temperature difference registered immediately, a quiet shift that didn’t go unnoticed.
Sage didn’t look up.
He was focused on the honey, turning the lid back into place with more care than it needed, tapping it once against the rim of his mug like he needed something to do with his hands.
Law reached past him.
His arm slid over Sage’s shoulder, bracing lightly against the counter as he took a glass from the shelf above. The motion was easy, familiar—but it brought him in close, his forearm brushing the top of Sage’s hair as he reached.
