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Under the table, Rook’s shadows wrapped around Ethan’s wrist, and Ethan’s thumb brushed across Rook’s knuckles in a gesture so casual it made Rook’s chest feel warm.
They stayed another thirty minutes, talking about Fiona’s new job and Ethan’s plans to work from home doing “consulting research,” which was technically accurate if a person counted “helping guardians dismantle criminal networks” as consulting.
When they finally stood to leave, Fiona pulled Ethan into another hug. She whispered something Rook’s enhanced hearing caught easily: “He’s weird, but he looks at you like you hung the moon. Keep him.”
Ethan hugged her back, his movements less stiff than before. “I will.”
“Same time next week?”
“Absolutely.”
In the car afterward – Ethan didn’t want helmet hair to greet his friend with - Rook gripped the steering wheel and stared at the coffee shop’s brick facade. “Did I pass?”
“Pass what?”
“The meeting your friend test.”
Ethan pulled out his phone, read something, then showed Rook the screen. Fiona’s text read: YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HOT BUT DEEPLY STRANGE. I APPROVE.
Rook’s shadows celebrated by wrapping around Ethan’s wrist properly now that they were in private.
“She likes you,” Ethan said. “That’s high praise. Fiona doesn’t trust easily after…well, everything.”
“She noticed I moved too fast,” Rook admitted. “When I caught the sugar.”
“I know. I redirected her attention.”
“And the hair thing.”
“I imagine she thought it was the wind from the door.”
Rook turned to face Ethan, who added, “Your shadows behaved relatively well. Only a few minor infractions.”
“They wanted to wrap around you for the entire hour,” Rook said. “That was impressive restraint.”
Ethan considered this seriously. “That’s fair. We should practice more public outings so they can build their tolerance.”
Rook’s chest felt warm at the casual way Ethan planned their future together. Coffee dates and shadow discipline training presented as normal relationship milestones. And maybe for them, they were.
“Where to next?” Ethan asked.
“Home,” Rook said. “Unless you want to go somewhere else?”
“Home sounds good.” Ethan laced their fingers together, shadows and all. “Thorn texted earlier. Julian found something in Pope’s files he wants us to look at.”
“Work?”
“Always work.” But Ethan smiled. “That’s what we do.”
Rook started the engine, his shadows finally settling now that they were alone with their mate. He pulled out of the parking space and headed toward the Shadow House, Ethan’s hand resting on the center console where Rook’s shadows could maintain contact.
The afternoon sun painted State Street gold, and for the first time in his long life, Rook felt something that wasn’t hunger or duty or the endless pull of corruption that needed consuming. He felt content.
“I do love you,” he said quietly.
Ethan turned to look at him, the afternoon light catching on his glasses, and the shadow marks visible on his throat where they’d settled into permanent patterns. “I love you too. Even when your shadows try to taste-test my coffee.”
“They were concerned about poison.”
