Where Bongo's aggression had ordinarily been tolerated and dismissed by the underboss, this time Gavin's mood is as foul as that of the primate. He meets bared teeth with a clenched jaw, glare knife-sharp and daring.

If Bongo had challenged him, Gavin would've risen to it.

Where Temp's cloud is metaphorical, Gavin's is visible, purple-black miasma curling around his limbs as he comes to a stop under the shade of the wooden canopy. Dying sunlight glances off the pool. It's a lovely evening he can't appreciate.

Yet for all his anger, his eyes linger on the lines around his lover's own. His scowl softens to a frown.

"You did well," he says, at last. "I'm proud."

There's more he wants to say, but the words are a struggle.

There is something in his husband's tone that traps Gavin's initial, emotional response in his throat. It's different than when Emma would confront him about the inevitability of Rocket's violence.

He swallows it, frowning, feeling unbalanced. He'd been expecting an argument, he realises.

He touches Temp's shoulder, brushing his hand up to squeeze it before taking a seat in one of the lounge chairs nearby.

"It won't be like before." Is he trying to convince Temp, or himself? I'd sooner go back to Ultra Space than back to the way I was. Weak, powerless. His fingers lace between his knees, and he studies his scars. "But it's going to be different." It was inevitable, wasn't it?

He looks up from his hands, studying his husband carefully.

"How do you feel about that?"

It's warmer than Gavin expects, too.

He can't laugh as he normally does. He can't return the smile. There's something overwhelmingly intense about the way he looks at his partner, then, as if willing him to understand the weight of Rocket's expectations.

"It'll be more than broken noses." His voice is soft, nearly drowned by the crash of waves against the shore. "You know that, don't you?"

Tangled in those words are questions he can't bring himself to ask. Questions he's afraid to have answered.

How much do you love me?
How far are you willing to fall?

Tears well in Gavin's eyes.

He's so surprised by the sudden swell of emotion that it takes him a moment to adjust, blinking away the moisture trapped behind his eyelids. His golden gaze is glassy, expression contorting in frustration as he looks away in the hopes of playing it off.

He can't hide the shakiness of his breath, however, and after a moment gives up the farce entirely and returns his gaze.

"If—" His voice cracks and he swallows, hard. "If you want out, I..."

You can never leave Rocket.

"I would understand."

Not, I'd run away with you, because Gavin had signed his soul away long ago. If you love someone, let them go.

He's never loved anyone more than Tempest Quinn.

"I don't want to be rid of you."

His voice is thick and wet, his cheeks red.

He looks up at Temp with wide amber eyes and sucks in unsteady breath as rough hands gently brush away the unshed tears.

I don't deserve you. But, no, that's not quite right, is it? He has never been shy on ambitions. Love was no different. It was more... you don't deserve this.

The lounge chair certainly isn't built for two, yet Gavin folds into his husband's arms the moment the comforting weight curls around his shoulder. He can't help but to feel guilty for the selfish act, even as he burrows his nose in the crook of Temp's neck.

"Some day it'll be too much." He sounds so, miserably certain, the words muffled by fabric. "What then?"

Could Gavin live his life always waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Gavin— No. Cillian tilts his head up to look at his husband, something in the eerie gentleness of Temp's tone sending a shiver down his spine. It's not fear, not even as the implication settles like the ashen remnants of a dying flame.

No. It's adoration.

He stares at Temp as if the stars themselves have come down to greet him.

Hands that had wound in his lover's shirt now find his neck, fingernails digging hard enough to draw blood and thumbs pressed against his throat. But Cillian isn't trying to kill him. No. He kisses him, hard, the taste of iron on his tongue.

"I will burn the whole world to ash before I ever let you go." It is both threat and promise, hissed through clenched teeth.

Should've run while you had the chance.