Arion had not argued after that.
Not because he lacked material.
He had plenty. Dean saying 'I'm in love with you' in one form and then again in another felt like the kind of event that should legally permit repetition, celebration, public holidays, and perhaps the immediate restructuring of the empire around his improved mood.
But Dean had gone quiet in that particular way that meant he was standing inside his own honesty now, feeling the shape of it settle, and Arion had learned enough over the last months not to shove at truths Dean had already offered freely.
So he had smiled into the dark of the cabin, said, "I'll be home soon," and let Dean threaten him with pastries, dinner, and consequences until the line ended.
That had been hours ago.
Now the capital unfolded beneath him.
