The rest of lunch passed in a blur of sunlight, grilled meat, and Joey getting threatened at least twice more.

"Ignore him," Leon said quietly beside Lucien after Joey finally shut up. "And definitely don't believe anything he says."

Lucien nodded obediently.

Leon reached for a glass near the middle of the table and handed it to him. "Try this."

Cold condensation dampened Lucien's fingers. He took a cautious sip.

His eyes brightened immediately.

"Apple juice."

Boer looked delighted from the grill. "Fresh from the orchard this morning. Leon said you might not drink much, so I made sure there were other options."

"And mushrooms!" Joey announced dramatically as another plate appeared. "Bo's grilled mushrooms can heal emotional trauma."

Lucien laughed softly before glancing down at the drinks again.

"I can drink a little," he said quickly, holding up two fingers. "A little little."

Leon leaned back slightly in his chair, studying him.

"Do you want one?"

Lucien hesitated for approximately half a second.

"…Yes."

Boer tossed him a beer.

Leon opened it first before handing it over, probably because Lucien looked like he'd somehow injure himself with the tab.

Lucien held the can in both hands for a moment before turning toward Leon.

The late afternoon light fell across his face, catching in his dark eyes while he smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he said softly. "I'm really happy."

Then, after a tiny pause:

"You're my first real friend here outside the pizza shop."

Leon went still.

Friend.

The word landed strangely in his chest.

Lucien kept talking, completely unaware.

"Even if the way we met was…" He searched for the right English word. "Extremely weird."

Leon looked at him for several long seconds before lifting his own glass.

"You don't have to thank me."

Their drinks clinked together lightly.

Lucien had almost no alcohol tolerance to begin with, and apparently American beer had chosen violence.

He took several enthusiastic gulps before realizing something felt suspicious.

Warmth spread slowly through his chest first.

Then his face.

Then his brain.

Oh no.

Why was the beer this strong?

He lifted the can to check the alcohol percentage, but Leon caught his wrist lightly, misunderstanding the movement.

"Slow down," Leon murmured.

Lucien's brain lagged behind the conversation by a full two seconds.

"…Hm?"

The sound came out soft and dazed through his nose, almost like a sleepy complaint.

Leon's eyes darkened.

"Eat something first."

Lucien blinked up at him slowly, chin propped in both hands.

"Okay."

He made absolutely no attempt to move.

Leon stared at him for a second, then calmly picked up a fork himself and loaded it with grilled chicken and fish coated in Bo's spice blend.

Lucien opened his mouth automatically when the fork reached him.

Joey nearly choked across the table.

Lucien chewed thoughtfully.

"Really good."

Meanwhile Joey looked like he was witnessing emotional terrorism in real time.

Nobody at the table missed what was happening anymore.

Nobody was stupid.

Leon lounged lazily against the back of his chair with one arm draped over it, looking relaxed and half-distracted while conversations about upcoming fights and training camps continued around him.

But his attention never actually left Lucien once.

Not for a second.

Lucien tried to follow the conversations, but the fighters spoke too fast and used too much technical slang. Still, he rested his chin in his hands and listened seriously like he understood everything.

Occasionally he nodded.

Very confidently.

Very incorrectly.

Leon almost smiled.

By the time dinner wound down, Lucien had given up on the beer entirely.

Without realizing it, he quietly pushed the half-finished can farther and farther away from himself one finger at a time like distancing himself from evidence at a crime scene.

Leon watched the entire process.

"Finished eating?" he asked softly.

Lucien turned toward him slowly.

Alcohol made his English processing speed dramatically worse.

"…Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you want."

Lucien considered this with enormous seriousness for someone who currently had the alcohol tolerance of a Victorian child.

Then he stood up.

A little too fast.

Leon's hand moved toward his waist, ready to catch him if he tipped over.

But Lucien regained balance somehow and looked proudly stable for exactly three seconds.

Then he turned back toward the table and waved politely.

"I'm done eating," he announced. "Bye everybody."

The fighters stared at him.

Then, one by one, several six-foot professional boxers awkwardly waved back like confused kindergarten teachers.

"Bye…"

"See you…"

"Goodnight, little dude…"

Leon stood and grabbed Lucien's abandoned beer before following him away from the table.

Without thinking about it, he tipped the can back and finished the rest himself.

Natural.

Casual.

Intimate enough that half the table went silent again.

Thankfully, Lucien didn't notice.

And even if he had, his brain probably wouldn't have survived processing it.

Outside the dining area, Lucien wandered toward the wooden porch steps and sat down heavily.

The evening sun still hung low enough to throw bright gold across the yard.

A moment later, Leon stepped in front of him automatically, blocking the harsher light from his eyes.

Originally, he'd planned to ask whether Lucien wanted to pick blueberries before sunset.

Instead, Lucien stared up at him for several thoughtful seconds.

Then slowly lifted one hand.

And poked Leon directly in the chest.

Leon froze.

"You're really bouncy here," Lucien said with complete sincerity.

Silence.

A dangerous amount of silence.

Leon looked down at him.

"You like it?"

Lucien nodded.

He remembered burying his face there before. It had been warm. Solid. Comfortable.

Apparently alcohol had removed all survival instincts from his body.

Leon's jaw tightened slightly.

"You can touch it if you want."

The sentence dropped between them softly.

Lucien swallowed.

Then, with the concentration of a scientist conducting important research, he replaced the single finger with his entire hand and pressed it flat against Leon's chest.

Even through the fabric of Leon's shirt, the muscle underneath felt firm and warm.

Lucien squeezed experimentally.

"…Wow."

Leon inhaled once through his nose.

That should have been enough.

It absolutely was not enough.

A second later, Lucien used both hands.

At first Leon had only meant to tease him a little.

Now he was developing a very real physical problem.

Lucien kept touching him curiously like he'd discovered stress-relief foam.

"Soft," Lucien decided aloud.

Leon caught both his wrists immediately before this became a felony.

"Okay," Leon said calmly, despite the fact that calm no longer existed inside his body. "That's enough."

Lucien looked genuinely disappointed.

His lower lip pushed forward slightly.

"I wasn't done."

Jesus Christ.

"We're going back to the cabin," Leon said.

Apparently drunk Lucien became extremely obedient, because he stood up instantly and followed beside him without argument.

The lamb was still inside the cabin when they returned.

It lifted its head and bleated sleepily.

"You should sleep for a while," Leon said. "I'll take him back outside."

"No."

The refusal came instantly.

"I'm sleeping with the sheep."

"The sheep snores."

"He's baby."

"He's also loud."

Lucien crossed his arms stubbornly. "We stay together."

Leon looked at him for a long moment before surrendering.

"Fine."

Lucien looked victorious.

"You'll actually sleep?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

The conversation had all the logic of talking to an exhausted drunk Disney princess.

Eventually Leon got Lucien settled onto the bed before forcing himself to leave while Lucien changed clothes.

The second he stepped outside, his phone rang.

Joey.

Leon answered reluctantly.

"We're playing cards," Joey said. "Bring your emotional support sheep."

"He's asleep."

Silence.

Then Joey's voice rose an octave.

"Wait. Who's asleep?"

Leon hung up.

—

Lucien woke several hours later in complete darkness and absolute confusion.

He sat upright slowly, hair sticking in every possible direction while his soul rebooted one painful second at a time.

Where am I?

Why does my mouth taste like bad decisions?

Why is there a sheep?

The sheep blinked at him from its blanket in the corner.

Memory returned instantly.

Every single memory.

The touching.

THE CHEST TOUCHING.

Lucien made a strangled noise and collapsed backward into the mattress.

"Oh my God."

His face burned so violently he thought spontaneous combustion might genuinely happen.

Why was the original owner's alcohol tolerance so horrible?!

One beer.

One.

And apparently that was enough to turn him into a middle-aged divorced man harassing strippers.

Lucien stared at his own hands in horror.

"These traitors."

He considered cutting them off.

It seemed fair.

Eventually he rolled himself completely into the blanket like an emotionally damaged burrito and writhed across the bed in silent despair.

Maybe he should leave tonight.

Could he walk four hours back to civilization?

Would a bear eat him first?

The sheep bleated.

Lucien slowly unwrapped himself and looked over.

The lamb stared back innocently.

"…You saw nothing."

The lamb continued existing.

Lucien climbed out of bed and found the remaining bottle of milk beside the cabinet. The second he picked it up, the lamb hurried toward him eagerly.

At least someone in this cabin still respected him.

He fed the lamb quietly while muttering under his breath.

"Maybe you should go explain everything to Leon," he whispered. "Tell him you were the one touching his chest. Not me."

The lamb looked unconcerned.

Fantastic.

Completely useless.

Once it finished drinking, the lamb hopped down from his lap and trotted toward the door.

Before Lucien realized what was happening, the tiny demon shoved its head through the gap and escaped outside.

"Wait—hey!"

Lucien shoved his shoes on and chased after it.

Only once he left the cabin did he realize how dark the ranch had become.

There weren't many lights beyond the main house. The fields stretched black and silver beneath moonlight, and somewhere farther out he could hear insects and distant animal noises.

The lamb disappeared around a large building.

Lucien slowed.

A barn?

No.Storage warehouse maybe.

He hesitated before following it inside.

The interior was even darker.

Moonlight spilled weakly through high windows, illuminating stacks of feed bags and piled crates. Something smelled like hay and old wood.

"Little sheep?"

No response.

Lucien moved deeper inside carefully.

Then his foot hit something wooden sticking up from the floor.

He looked down.

A hatch.

His blood ran cold instantly.

A hatch.

A cellar hatch.

And suddenly Joey's stupid horror story from dinner returned in perfect detail.

The ranch owner murdered his wife—

Hidden in the cellar—

Tourists disappearing—

Lucien took one horrified step backward.

Then another.

His breathing sped up.

Okay.

Okay maybe Leon wasn't a serial killer.

Probably.

Maybe.

A footstep sounded behind him.

Lucien whipped around so fast he nearly died.

A flashlight beam cut through the darkness.

Leon walked toward him holding the light loosely in one hand.

"What are you doing out here?"

Relief hit so hard Lucien almost felt dizzy.

"I was looking for the sheep."

"You don't need to," Leon said calmly. "He always comes back when he gets hungry."

Then he noticed Lucien's expression.

"What's wrong?"

Lucien absolutely refused to admit he'd almost convinced himself Leon was secretly a homicidal ranch owner.

"Nothing."

Leon narrowed his eyes slightly.

Then understanding flickered across his face.

A slow smile followed.

"Oh," he said softly. "Did you think I was the killer from Joey's story?"

Lucien's ears turned red.

"I didn't—"

Leon stepped closer.

The warehouse suddenly felt much smaller.

Moonlight and flashlight glow cut sharp shadows across his face while his voice dropped lower.

"How do you know I'm not?"

Lucien stopped breathing.

Leon kept walking toward him slowly.

"Maybe that's why I invited you here."

Lucien stumbled backward instinctively.

His heel caught against the cellar hatch.

He nearly fell before Leon grabbed him firmly around the waist.

One strong arm lifted him upright effortlessly.

Leon looked down at him for a second before sighing softly.

"Your courage level is lower than the sheep's."

Then, without warning, he picked Lucien up completely.

Lucien made a startled sound and grabbed his shoulders automatically.

"Leon—"

"You wandered into a dark warehouse alone after listening to Joey tell murder stories," Leon said. "You're banned from independent decision-making for the rest of the night."

Lucien buried half his burning face against Leon's shoulder.

Honestly?

Fair...