When Grayson emerged from the bathroom, freshly cleaned and radiating that particular post-rut contentment that softened his features. He found Neville curled on the couch with holographic displays floating before him.

"You’re working?"

"Just some small things," Neville replied without looking up. "The Purchasing Department submitted their revised proposal. Chief Sanchez had some concerns about the timeline that need addressing."

Grayson watched him for a long moment. Then, instead of questioning why he was working on his leave like before that Neville half-expected, Grayson simply settled onto the couch beside him.

The first touch was a press of lips against Neville’s hair. It was a brief, almost casual, intimate touch.

"Don’t overwork yourself," Grayson whispered to Neville’s ear.

"Says the man who regularly works eighteen-hour days."

"I have a team that keeps the company functioning even without me present."

Neville’s fingers faltered on the holographic keyboard. There he was, touching him again, as natural as breathing.

How was he supposed to interpret this? Was this how Grayson treated everyone who helped him through a rut, or was this something more?

Ugh, stop thinking about it. Focus on work.

He put his attention back to the display, but maintaining concentration proved challenging when Grayson began kissing the top of his head at regular intervals. Each press of his lips was light, affectionate, as if comforting.

A kiss to his hair.

A moment of silence.

A kiss to his temple.

Another pause.

"You’re distracting me," Neville said, though there was no real complaint in his tone.

"Mmm." Grayson lightly hummed.

His hand then found Neville’s shoulder, kneading the muscles there, sometimes massaging, sometimes just a simple pat.

Neville tried to concentrate on the work at hand but failed.

He tried again but only managed to write a few sentences before he felt Grayson moving beside him. Grayson’s head tilted sideways down to rest on Neville’s shoulders.

Moving on instinct, Neville reached up and guided Grayson’s head the remaining distance. He adjusted his position slightly, angling his shoulder to provide a more comfortable resting surface. He was rewarded with a sound from Grayson that was almost embarrassingly close to a satisfied purr.

He’s like a giant cat, Neville thought, and immediately had to suppress a smile at the mental image of an overgrown kitten.

Grayson looked completely satisfied with this position. He pressed even closer, wrapping an arm around Neville’s waist and settling against him with a satisfied sigh.

"Just work," he murmured, his breath warm against Neville’s neck. "I won’t do anything else."

Given their history over the past several days, Neville expected Grayson to do something even if it wasn’t now, but maybe a little later. But then he heard Grayson’s breathing evening out. The tension in his muscles gradually released as exhaustion caught up with him.

Neville instantly understood what was happening.

Managing a rut was physically demanding even under optimal circumstances. Not to mention that Grayson had been doing so while simultaneously restraining himself from following his deeper instincts. The effort required for that level of control must have been a lot.

Neville continued working.

Throughout it all, Grayson slept against his shoulder, one arm wrapped possessively around his waist.

He looks like an angel when he sleeps, Neville thought absentmindedly while secretly taking Grayson’s photo in his sleep.

Time passed, and Neville was finally finished. The pain in his shoulders made him aware of an uncomfortable position. He needed to move even if he had to wake up Grayson.

Grayson had moved during his sleep, burrowing deeper into Neville’s space until he was practically wrapped around him. His head had moved from Neville’s shoulder to his chest, face pressed against his chest.

The arm around Neville’s waist had been joined by a leg thrown across his thighs. He was practically a body pillow for Grayson at this point.

It was somewhat ridiculous but utterly adorable at the same time.

"Gray." Neville kept his voice soft, one hand coming up to rest on Grayson’s back. "Gray, wake up. We should move to the bedroom."

A grumbling sound was his only response.

"You’ll regret sleeping on the couch. Your back will protest tomorrow."

"Don’t care," Grayson mumbled against his chest. "Comfortable."

"You have a very comfortable, massive bed in your room."

"...Have you in it?"

Neville blinked. "What?"

Grayson lifted his head just enough to meet Neville’s eyes, and despite the haziness from having woken up, there was clarity in that gaze.

"Does the bed have you in it?"

"I... that’s not..."

"Then I don’t care." Grayson’s head dropped back to Neville’s chest.

Case closed.

He’s impossible, Neville complained, but it did warm his heart.

Neville tried a different approach. "I’m tired too. The bedroom would be more comfortable for both of us."

That got a reaction.

Grayson lifted his head again, looking at Neville’s face, which he found a little unsettling. But that seemed to satisfy Grayson as he nodded and began untangling himself from Neville.

"You should have said so earlier." There was a note of reproach in Grayson’s voice. "Look, you’re in pain trying to maintain that position for so long."

It seemed that Grayson had seen the sleep mark that he left on Neville. He glanced a little at that part, but he saw how red it was, so he hurriedly tried to coax Grayson.

"I’m fine—"

"Vee," Grayson said with a hint of warning. "I don’t want you to exhaust yourself for my sake any more than it was necessary."

The concern in Grayson’s eyes was so sincere that arguing seemed unreasonable.

They made their way to the bedroom, but it became complicated because Grayson couldn’t stop touching him for more than a few seconds.

First, it was resting, holding, and supporting his lower back, then it moved to reach his hand and intertwine it. Then he began pausing for a light kiss on his shoulder that moved to his hair then to the corner of his mouth.

By the time they reached the bed, Neville felt thoroughly kissed and oddly cherished but also extremely tired that he only wanted to sleep.

The moment they lay down on the bed, Grayson put his head on Neville’s arms instead of the pillow.

Neville raised his hand to touch Grayson’s hair near it.

"Rest well," Neville murmured, and began to pat Grayson’s head in a rhythm that was almost unconsciously soothing.

Grayson made that sound again and burrowed closer.

Just one more day, he thought. One more day...

Neville’s eyes drifted closed.

And then...