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Dragon related, he was pretty sure. See? He was totally paying attention. Dragons were…there. Historically speaking. They existed. And they did dragon things. Things Milo would be doing too very soon. As soon as he learned all the stuff.

And his brain was really good for learning. He was a sponge. A super absorbent, gigantic sponge that would just soak up all of the—ooooh a butterfly. He looked to his left and saw a beautiful, ruby red butterfly fluttering away from him.

He skipped to go after it, wanting a closer look because he had never seen a butterfly so large. Or that color.

It was also flying in a really weird pattern. Loopy and swoopy. Weirdly precise. Milo squinted and realized the butterfly was leaving thin silverish trails. Like a plane. Or chemtrails. Were butterflies in on the chemtrail business? Why was nobody talking about it? Seemed like important information to be covered by the magical THEM that seemed to be behind every alleged conspiracy theory.

Was he about to uncover one of the world’s secrets all by himself?

The trails lingered in the air in front of him before he realized they actually formed…letters. He tilted his head to read and gasped when the words registered in his head.

Are you fucking asleep?

Are butterflies always so rude? he wondered as he watched the scene in front of him shift in and out of focus, leaving him weirdly disoriented as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Something shook his shoulder and he jumped, eyes popping open as the butterfly was replaced by blazing eyes in the same ruby color.

Rowan.

All that bulk and heat was hovering inches above Milo, a large hand braced by his head on the cushion, noses a fraction apart. And all the butterflies he was chasing ended up in his stomach at once.

“What?” he asked nonsensically, trying to concentrate on anything but the perfect slope of Rowan’s prominent nose that was dusted in freckles, the shape of his lips and the trim of his short beard, the wonder of his scales, which caught the light beautifully this close.

His fingers itched to touch.

Rowan reared back and slammed the book in his hand closed, snapping Milo out of his musings.

“You were asleep,” Rowan accused.

Milo sprang upright and turned, only then realizing how close Rowan had been sitting. The edge of the coffee table was just a few feet away from the couch, and Rowan’s frame filled that space until his knees were brushing Milo’s on either side of his thighs. Milo had effectively pinned himself between them as the dragon glared at him.

“No, I wasn’t.” Milo shook his head. “Totally listened to every word you read. It was fascinating. I learned so much.”

“I literally only managed the intro. Not a single piece of vital information was reached.”

“Oh,” Milo said. “Your reading is very slow.”

“Oh my god.” Rowan stood up and walked off. “You’re infuriating.”

Milo frowned at the shift in position, because Rowan was all the way across the room now and his legs weren’t warm and tingling anymore.

“I was just tired.” His voice sounded less combative now and more…whatever the opposite of that was. He didn’t have much experience with it. He looked up slowly and saw Rowan frozen in place, eyes glued to him and head tilted.

“How many jobs do you actually have?” Rowan asked.

“The three main ones that you’ve seen.” Milo waved a dismissive hand. “And then a couple of temp things I do here and there when things get tight.”

“When do you sleep?” Rowan asked, rounding the dining table into the attached kitchen. He opened his fridge and started rummaging through it, pulling out plastic containers of things.

“When I can,” Milo said, stretching his neck to see what he was doing. “And when I can’t I’ve got coffee and energy drinks to keep me functional.”

“Nothing about you is functional.”

“Hey!” Milo was going for offended, but, like…he wasn’t wrong. “What are you doing?”

“Lunch,” Rowan said, giving him an exasperated stare. “I’m doing lunch.”

“Is my lesson already over?” Milo frowned.