“But—”
“Rest, princess.”
Cass pouted—actually pouted—but subsided against Riot’s shoulder. For a moment, there was blessed silence.
Then: “Riot?”
“Yeah?”
“I brought you something.”
“You brought me something?”
“From the meeting. I thought you might like it.” Cass fumbled toward the nightstand, retrieving something wrapped in a napkin. “They had these at the café, and I know Berserkers don’t get a lot of nice things, so...”
He pressed the napkin into Riot’s hand. Inside was a small pastry, slightly squished.
“It’s honey cake,” Cass said, “Because you smell like strawberries and cream and I thought—I thought maybe you’d like honey too? To go with it? The strawberries, I mean. As a flavor combination.” His brow furrowed. “Does that make sense? I’m not very good at presents.”
Riot stared at the crumbled pastry. He’d been planning murder five minutes ago. Detailed, methodical plans for tracking down Ken Nakamura. Now he was holding a slightly squished honey cake because Cass thought his scent might pair well with it.
“Cass.” His voice came out strange. “You’re in pre-heat. You felt terrible all day. And you... saved me a pastry?”
“You do so much for me,” Cass said simply. “I wanted to do something for you.” He paused. “Do you not like honey?”
“I like honey.”
“Oh good.” Cass relaxed against him. “You should eat it before it gets more squished. I sat on it a little bit on the way back. On accident.”
This is how I die. Not in combat, not from Berserker mod decay, but because an idiot Omega saved me a pastry he accidentally sat on.
Riot ate the honey cake. It was stale and tasted like Cass had been carrying it in his pocket for hours.
It was the best thing he’d ever eaten.
“Good?” Cass asked hopefully.
“Yeah, princess.” Riot’s chest felt too full. “It’s good.”
Cass smiled and pressed closer. “I’m glad. You deserve good things. Even if you are a scary Berserker.”
Riot’s free hand found Cass’s hair without conscious decision and Cass made a soft, pleased sound.
I could do anything to him right now. He’d let me.
“Riot?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re petting my hair.”
“...Is that a problem?”
“No.” He yawned. “It feels nice. Keep doing it.”
He’s going to destroy me without even trying.
The circlet was a warm weight in Riot’s pocket. He didn’t take it out.
