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“Are you okay?” I asked carefully, not sure whether this was one of those times when I wasn’t supposed to address the very obvious thing.

“Yes! I’m fine.” He gave me his usual beaming smile, which allowed me to relax just a little. He went to push back the curl flopping over his forehead and noticed the brown smear on his hand, which made him laugh. “Ugh, got chocolate on my hand.”

I let out a silent little breath of relief and stepped into the house. “We don’t have to eat this right now if—”

“No, I’m starving! I can’t wait.” Klaus stretched up to kiss my cheek, and he did indeed smell even more like chocolate than usual. Sweet and rich.

Just as he seemed to notice that I was hiding a hand behind my back, I smiled sheepishly and revealed the flowers, which made him gasp. “Um, I just thought you might—”

“Brian.” His eyes seemed to have grown a little shiny. “They’re so beautiful.”

I grinned. “Well, I had to get you a housewarming gift, right?”

He sniffled a little, taking the big bunch of roses from me. “They’re my favourite.”

I chuckled but didn’t bother reminding him that I, of course, knew that because he’d told me, and I also, of course, remembered.

“Thank you.” He buried himself against my front, being careful not to crush the flowers. I wrapped my arm around him, still carefully holding our food in the other hand, and kissed the top of his head as he tucked it into my neck.

“Of course.” It had been nothing. Why wouldn’t I buy him flowers?

Klaus was still a little sniffly and bright-eyed when he pulled back, but he was smiling and his cheeks were flushed as he carefully carried the flowers into the kitchen. While he filled a vase and arranged the bouquet in it, I plated up all our food. With a beaming smile, Klaus set the bouquet in the centre of the kitchen island, then rushed over to wrap his arms around me again, peppering my neck and jaw with kisses until I laughed.

“Glad you like them.” I pressed a kiss to his curls before he pulled back.

“I love them. Thank you.”

I hadn’t thought he’d be this happy to receive a bunch of flowers, and now I was determined to get him more as soon as these ones had died. And more after that. This incubus would be getting flowers every week for as long as he allowed me to be in his life.

When we headed back into the living room to eat, I noticed Klaus had lit some candles and turned on the lamps in here, casting a soft ambient glow around the room. The blinds were shut too.

“It looks nice in here,” I said. It was a little bare, the walls missing some pictures, and no throws or cushions or decorations yet, but it was ready for Klaus and Nat to make it their own.

“Thanks.” Klaus beamed as he settled on the couch, crossing his legs. “It’s so nice just to be able to sit in a clean, calm living room. I never did in the apartment. Simon usually had his douchebag friends over, or Ruth would smoke weed in there until the room was literally foggy.”

My lip curled as I sat beside him with my plate. “I’m really glad you’re out of there.”

“Me too.” He cut into his onion tortilla and scooped a forkful into his mouth. “Mmm. This is so good. Thank you for picking it up.”

“Of course. Anything you—” I cut myself off and cleared my throat. “It was no problem.”

I had genuinely liked Nat, but now that he was no longer here, I could actually relax. Klaus and I talked while we ate, and this time, when he said something funny, I didn’t cut short my conspicuously loud laugh. He’d told me he liked it, so I was starting to feel less self-conscious about it when I was with him.

When I returned from taking our empty plates back to the kitchen, Klaus had picked up the TV remote and was squinting at it in the low lighting.

“Want to watch something?” I asked, trying to make my voice light, as if the idea of spending the evening watching TV instead of getting my hands and mouth and tongue on him as soon as possible was perfectly acceptable.

“Oh, no.” He smiled up at me and set the remote down. “I just noticed the TV is one I’ve never used before. I’ll probably be like a grandma trying to figure it out.”

I grinned, sitting back down beside him and resting my hand on his knee, rubbing it. “I can help you.”

He must have showered while I was at home, because his curls were a little damp at the ends, and he’d changed into a pair of skimpy pink shorts and a soft, worn-looking grey T-shirt. It was huge on him, and I went still when I noticed the faded, flaking remnants of artwork on the back, specifically an anthropomorphic hotdog drawn in a Western traditional tattoo style.

“Is that my shirt?” I’d recognise it anywhere, because I’d had it for years. Once I’d worn and washed T-shirts enough to make them light and buttery soft, nothing in the world could make me part with them.

Except, evidently, Klaus.

He looked down at it before shooting me a coy grin. “Yes. The one you gave me at Cratos. You’re never getting it back now, Fenrir,” he teased.