Murder After Pancakes

Murder After Pancakes
Kael

I feel like I’m still dreaming when trouble crawls back into bed with me. Not the bad kind of trouble. The good kind. The kind that smells like clean skin and faint soap and whatever the Shadow Realm uses instead of sunlight. She slides in close like she’s done it a hundred times before, curls against my side with complete confidence, head settling on my chest as if this is where she’s always slept. Her leg drapes over my thigh. Her fingers slip into my hair and start playing with it lazily, like she’s half asleep and hasn’t realised yet that she’s sitting on a live grenade. I blink my eyes open and stare at the ceiling, completely still. This is either the best dream I’ve ever had or the universe is about to punch me in the face for daring to enjoy myself.
“Hey, baby girl,” I murmur, voice rough and thick with sleep. “Is it my birthday? Did I win a Nobel Prize? When do I get my reward?”
My hand slides down her back without asking, and she laughs softly, the sound vibrating straight through my ribs. It’s unfair how easily she does that to me. Unfair how my body responds like it’s been waiting for her specifically.
“You’re funny,” she whispers, tilting her head to kiss the side of my neck.
That is absolutely not helpful. I groan quietly and tighten my arm around her, pulling her closer. “You crawled in here. That feels like consent to whatever nonsense comes next.”
She hums thoughtfully, fingers still twisting through my hair, slow and distracting. “The others say it’s time to talk murder again.”
I freeze, and every single traitorous part of my body immediately stands down, which feels like a personal betrayal after how cooperative it was two seconds ago.
“Don’t say that,” I mutter, burying my face against her shoulder. “I’ve been working so hard. I’ve been such a good boy. You could just… reward me now, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything.”
She giggles again, and I swear that sound alone should be illegal. “Tempting.”
I lift my head just enough to pout at her. I am not above using my face as a weapon. “I’ve been stabbing things for you. Setting things on fire responsibly. Showing restraint. That deserves something.”
She presses her forehead to mine, smiling. “Evander already told me no.”
I scoff. “Of course he did.”
“He says I’m fragile,” she adds, mocking his voice just enough to make me snort.
“Fragile,” I repeat flatly. Then I dip my head and murmur just below her ear, letting my breath do some of the work. “I watched you walk out of hell and tell the Council to go fuck itself. You’re the least fragile thing I know.”
Her breath catches. I feel it on my skin, that tiny hitch, the way her body leans closer like it’s deciding whether to listen to me or common sense.
“I wouldn’t break you,” I add quietly. “Trust me.”
She hesitates, and I know I’m winning, and then the universe, which clearly hates me, intervenes. Someone clears their throat. I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
“Nope,” Evander says from the doorway, far too amused for my liking. “Not happening, Kael.”
I groan and flop back against the mattress, arm thrown dramatically over my eyes. “You are a thief of joy.”
“I am a guardian of boundaries,” he replies, still laughing. “And I figured if I didn’t come up here, you’d try to bend them.”
“She started it,” I say, pointing vaguely in Allison’s direction.
She sits up, completely unrepentant. “He’s lying.”
Evander crosses his arms. “Come on. One more evil bastard to deal with before we all pretend we’re normal.”
I peek at her through my fingers. She looks torn, soft and bright and very awake now, like she hates that he’s right.
“Later?” I ask quietly.
She smiles, reaches down, and squeezes my hand once. “Later.”
I sigh like a man making a great sacrifice and sit up. “Fine, but I want it on record that I was emotionally prepared to continue sleeping and should be compensated for that.”
Evander snorts. “Get dressed.”
We move through the halls together, the castle waking slowly around us. I catch glimpses of demons pausing mid-task to stare, then look away quickly when Rhaziel’s presence ripples through the space like a warning. Allison walks between us, wrapped in nothing but a shirt, and I stay close without thinking, body angled slightly toward her like I’m still guarding something precious. The kitchen smells like heaven. There are pancakes, butter, and something sweet. Evander moves like he belongs here, bare feet on stone, shoulders relaxed, dragon content and humming under his skin. Cage sits at the counter beside where Allison sits down, and that alone gives me pause. I grab my own chair and slide it between them. Not because I don't like him or anything... It's just my turn, after all. He's going to have to learn that there's already a rotation going on here, and he's not taking my time slot. I worked too damn hard to get to where I am today with Trouble.
"Pancakes?" I ask Evander as he rounds the bench. He slides over a stack, and I, of course, am starving. Cassian tries to speak, saying something about murder and time and evil or whatever, but I hold one finger up in his direction. "Mumma always told me not to talk business over a meal. You're going to have to wait, Commander."
Cassian sighs like he’s surrendering to gravity itself and lowers his hand, lips pressing together in thin, long-suffering acceptance. Evander hides a smile behind the pan. Allison leans into my side just enough that I feel her warmth, and I grin around a mouthful of pancake. Cage snorts quietly, shaking his head, but he doesn’t move away, and that feels like a victory too. The world can wait ten more minutes. Right now, there’s food, warmth, and Trouble at my side, and for once, nobody’s bleeding on the floor.