CHAPTER 259: CHAPTER 259: CAT

The knock at the door was soft, followed by the discreet click of the handle turning.

Victor didn’t lift his head, just murmured against Elias’s hair, "Enter. But slowly. He’s armed with hormones and an agenda."

Lena stepped inside, carrying a lacquered tray with the precision of a woman who had once delivered a ceasefire treaty during a boardroom blackout. She took one glance at the sight of Elias curled in Victor’s lap, cheek flushed against his fiancé’s shoulder, Victor’s hand possessively splayed over his belly like it belonged there, and didn’t say a word.

She set the tray down on the coffee table beside the couch, where the sunlight caught the edges of the porcelain plates and made the buttered brioche glisten like it had been basted in apology.

"There’s spiced milk tea with honey, two egg tarts, brioche with sea salt butter, and the kitchen added a small bowl of fruit because they like living," Lena said lightly. "Shall I leave you both alone?"

Victor glanced up, crimson eyes glinting with open amusement. "Unless you’re secretly a registered midwife, yes."

Lena smirked. "In that case, I’ll be outside... pretending not to hear anything."

The door closed behind her.

Elias didn’t move. "Did she say fruit?"

Victor made a noncommittal noise. "Ignore it. Focus on the bread."

He reached across, keeping one arm securely around Elias, and picked up the plate. The scent hit instantly; it was warm and yeasty, with just a touch of browned butter. He tore off a piece and brought it to Elias’s mouth without ceremony.

Elias opened one eye.

Victor didn’t blink. "Eat."

Elias took the bite, grudgingly. "It’s good."

"Of course it is."

Another bite. Then the tea, sweet and rich, with just enough spice to comfort rather than overwhelm. Elias leaned forward slightly to sip from the offered cup, the steam curling between them like a peace offering.

After the second tart, Elias finally exhaled. "I might not kill anyone today."

Victor hummed with mischief in his eyes. "Too bad. I wanted to see other people in danger because of your hormones."

"You are the sole target, because you deserve it."

Victor didn’t even try to defend himself. He looked far too pleased.

"I accept my fate," he said, brushing a crumb from Elias’s lower lip with his thumb. "But if I’m going to be sacrificed on the altar of righteous pregnancy wrath, I’m going to make it theatrical."

Elias narrowed his eyes. "If you suggest a public event..."

"No," Victor interrupted smoothly. "Not public. Just... scenic."

Elias froze with the cup halfway to his mouth. "Victor."

Victor offered his most innocent smile, one that could bankrupt nations. "I was thinking we could go out. Quiet place. Excellent food. Private garden seating. You can eat five different kinds of carbohydrates while glaring at me over candlelight."

"I am glaring," Elias muttered.

"And yet I’m still proposing it," Victor said, gently prying the cup from his hand and setting it down. "Which makes me either brave or deeply in love."

Elias scowled. "You think a change of location will fix the fact that your father tried to put me in armored velvet?"

Victor’s eyes sparkled. "No. But I think dessert might help."

"You already fed me two egg tarts and a legally offensive amount of butter."

"And yet," Victor said, brushing his knuckles along Elias’s jaw in a lazy caress, "you’re still frowning. Which means we need more aggressive measures. Possibly truffle risotto."

Elias blinked. "You reserved a table."

"Two days ago," Victor confirmed, smug now. "I didn’t know what would happen, but I hoped you’d survive Ego’s textile crimes."

Elias stared at him, incredulous. "You planned a congratulatory meal. For surviving your family."

"I also planned it for the baby’s first kick," Victor added, lowering his voice. "And for the fact that you’re doing all this while finishing a thesis, managing a grant team, and threatening me daily. It’s hot."

Elias set his jaw. "You think you can manipulate me with compliments and risotto."

"I know I can," Victor said, voice dropping as he leaned in. "You like being spoiled. You just don’t like admitting it."

Elias leaned back slightly, just enough to arch an eyebrow. "And what happens if I say no?"

Victor didn’t hesitate. "Then I’ll cancel the reservation, bring the food here, and we’ll eat on the office floor. But you’ll be in my lap, because I’m not giving it up."

"...You’re serious."

Victor kissed the corner of his mouth. "Deadly."

Elias looked at the now-empty plate. He was still warm from the tea. Still nestled in Victor’s hold like a cat that had claimed a very expensive piece of furniture. The bruised ache of his argument with Ego hadn’t disappeared, but it had dulled, distracted now by food, by affection, by the lazy thrum of Victor’s scent threading into his own.

His stomach rumbled.

Victor’s grin turned lethal. "That’s consent."

"That’s biology," Elias snapped, but he didn’t pull away.

"Same difference," Victor said, already reaching for his phone. "I’ll tell the driver to pull around to the east garage."

Elias sighed and let his head fall back against Victor’s shoulder, exasperated. "If there are flowers on the table, I’m setting them on fire."

Victor kissed his temple. "Noted."

"And if the waiter calls me ’sir’ instead of doctor..."

"I’ll burn the restaurant down myself."

Elias exhaled, eyes closing again. "I hate how good you are at this."

Victor’s arm tightened slightly around him. "Good. Then I’m winning."

Outside the office window, the sky was starting to turn gold at the edges, washing the glass with honeyed light. Inside, Victor held the most precious thing he’d ever touched, equal parts brilliance and bite, chaos and calm. And for once, Elias didn’t fight the stillness.

He let himself rest.

Let the scent of honeyed tea and butter linger as proof that someone, somewhere, was trying to take care of him, even if it involved flowers and risotto and an illegal amount of smugness.

"Fine," Elias muttered. "But I’m not dressing up."

Victor kissed the top of his head and whispered, "You already are."