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“What… is this?”
Raphael peered suspiciously into the depths of a dark blue mug that Mrs. Bishara had just handed him. Something brown swirled at the bottom, sweet-smelling and rich.
Across the bond, he could feel Connor suppressing a laugh. Clara, too, seemed to be struggling to contain her mirth.
The three of them sat in the living room of Connor and Clara’s Gran’s house, Connor and Raphael in matching floral armchairs and Clara on the floor in front of the fireplace. From the kitchen, they could hear water running as Mrs. Bishara and her mother puttered around, cooking something that smelled heavenly. Hephaestus and Aphrodite were upstairs, and Mr. Bishara had gone out to collect a missing ingredient for the women in the kitchen.
“It’s hot chocolate.”
“No, the Mayans drank that. It was bitter and disgusting.” Just thinking about it left a taste in his mouth. The stuff was strong, and this was decidedly not the same thing.
“We’ve perfected it since then. Try it.”
Raphael glanced at Connor, who looked back at him with eagerly twinkling eyes. It was a new expression, but not entirely unwelcome to either of them. Since the battle with Set, Connor seemed to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders.
He took a cautious sip.
Goddamn, it was amazing. “Perfected” was perhaps not the right word. “Changed beyond recognition in the best way possible” might have been more accurate.
He twisted in his seat and called into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Bishara, this is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever tasted. Thank you.”
She laughed. “Thank Swiss Miss. I just put powder in hot milk.”
He didn’t know who or what Swiss Miss was, but he silently thanked them anyway, taking another sip and savoring every molecule of it.
He was aware of Connor’s gaze on him, and the warmth bouncing back and forth across the bridge between their souls. He let the sweetness of it all, of the chocolate, the peace, the flickering light of the fireplace, the familial atmosphere of the house, wash over him from head to toe.
So this is what it was like to be truly happy. It had been only a day and a night since they arrived, and already this little house felt more like home than his empty cottage in Eden ever did.
He pulled his legs up and tucked his feet underneath himself, the armchair rocking slightly with his movement.
“I guess it’s true what they say,” Clara said. “Gays really can’t sit right in chairs.”
Raphael cracked open his eyes. Clara was smirking at him. Connor looked down at himself, both legs thrown over the arm of the chair.
“Who says that?” asked Raphael.
“Science.” Clara shrugged, her grin widening. She hopped to her feet and plucked Connor’s empty mug out of his hands. “I’ll take that in for you.” She left them alone.
For a moment, Connor and Raphael shared a companionable silence, except for the occasional slurp on Raphael’s end of the line.
Then he felt a twinge of something, not in his chest but Connor’s.
“What are you thinking about?” He asked, threading his fingers together around the mug.
'Connor looked away. “Nothing.”
Raphael raised an eyebrow at him.
Connor sighed. “I was just thinking about— well—” He inhaled. “Isn’t this illegal?”
“Drinking hot chocolate?”
“No… This.” He gestured between them. “Us. Since I’m your— you know. Your ward.”
“Hm.” Raphael, uncharacteristically, hadn’t even thought about it like that. Perhaps, since they couldn’t make nephilim anyway, it had never occurred to him that the nature of their relationship could put them in danger. “I suppose it is, yes. In Paradisa.”
“Is that… is that going to be a problem?”
Raphael exhaled, averting his eyes to the cooling hot chocolate. “I… don’t know. I have never personally known anyone this close to their ward before. I myself have certainly not been.”
Connor shifted, setting both of his feet on the carpet. “What’s the punishment for something like this?”
This was something Raphael had pushed way down into the recesses of his consciousness with the guilt and the pain and several millennia of other things he didn’t want to think about.
A lump rose into his throat.
“Raphael… I don’t want to put you in danger.”
His head snapped up. “No. You’re not putting me in danger. I’m… I’m the one who’s responsible for you.” And the thought of being close to Connor for decades to come and never again like this was unbearable. “I made this choice on my own.”
“Well, so did I. And I’m willing to accept the risks. But if you get hurt—”
“No. Stop.” Raphael stands, placing his mug on the coffee table between their chairs. He moves closer and Connor rises so that their eyes are level, inches apart. “If we start talking like this, we’ll go around in circles and never stop. If you accept it, and I accept it, then… we can move on from that.” He swallowed. “Listen. The past few weeks have been… some of the best of my entire life. In the past… just days would have passed in a blip. But… you slow things down.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you. One thing I’ve learned recently is that being alive doesn’t mean just breathing. It means loving, and being loved, and making my own decisions— not the ones that my kingdom wants me to make— and taking risks. And if living means running from all-powerful Sanctines or staying out of Paradisa… then that’s what I’ll do.”
Connor’s lips were parted slightly, his breath coming out shallow. “You… really mean that?”
“Angels can’t lie.”
Connor stepped back. “But Raphael, we’ve only known each other for a little while and—”
“Connor, it doesn’t matter. We’re connected. It’s different. I know what matters about you.” Raphael puts his index finger on Connor’s chest, right over his heart. “I know what’s in there.” He drops his hand and wraps it around Connor’s. “And anyway, we’re bonded for the rest of your life. It doesn’t do to deny ourselves the opportunity to make the most of that time. If things don’t work out with the Guild of Law and Justice… or between us… then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“You would actually give up Paradisa for this? It’s— it’s your home. It’s literally paradise. ”
“No, Connor.” Raphael shakes his head. “I never had this in Paradisa. I never had a mother to make me hot chocolate. I never had a sister to make fun of me for the way I sit in a chair. I never had you. Paradise is right here.”
He buries his fingers in Connor’s hair and kisses him.