Lucien woke up feeling like a new person—completely unaware that he was officially missing one pair of white underwear.

He dressed quickly and sat at the table, eyes tracking Leon as the man moved through the kitchen.

Leon was currently hunched over a pot of wontons, looking like a man who had traded his championship titles for a Michelin star.

The wontons were handmade. The first batch had been too big for Lucien's mouth, so Leon had actually called a chef to relearn the pleating technique.

Now, they were perfect—one bite each. Lucien inhaled them, his praises coming out in a muffled, happy stream.

Leon looked like he was floating. If they didn't have a gym session scheduled, he probably would have cooked a twelve-course banquet right then and there.

He slid a menu onto the table. "Pick anything, baby. Whatever you want for tomorrow, I'm making it."

Lucien pointed a finger at a random page. "These two pages. Start there."

Leon's gaze darkened with a sudden, heavy heat. He'd spent the morning in a cold shower trying to kill the tension, and now it was back.

He nodded slowly. "Whatever you say."

Lucien watched as Leon packed a bag with snacks and juice. It was a ritual now—Leon treating him like a fragile kindergartener who couldn't survive an hour without a juice box.

"You're acting like such a daddy," Lucien teased, chin resting on his palm.

Leon stopped mid-motion. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt twice as thick.

Lucien's stomach did a nervous flip. He realized he'd overstepped and scrambled to stand up. "Uh—we should go. Don't want to be late."

He didn't make it two steps. Leon's arm hooked around his waist, hoisting him off the floor and pinning him against the counter.

"Running away?" Leon rumbled.

"Leon... put me down." Lucien kicked his legs, feeling Leon's large palm settle over his rear with a possessive squeeze. "No kissing!"

"I'm not kissing you," Leon rasped, burying his face in Lucien's neck.

He dragged his tongue over the sensitive skin beneath Lucien's ear. "I'm just tasting."

"You're a freak!" Lucien hissed, shoving at Leon's chest. "What about Joey? He's waiting!"

Leon let out a low, rough chuckle. "Is he in a hurry to die?"

"I'm a dead man," Joey moaned, slumped over a bench in the private training hall.

"God doesn't want you yet," Rick laughed, leaning against the ring.

Rick had been traveling for months. He looked at Joey, then toward the entrance. "So, who is this kid? The Ice King actually fell in love while I was gone?".

Joey huffed. "He's not ice. To us, he's a glacier. To his little lamb? He's a goddamn marshmallow."

"You're exaggerating."

The heavy doors groaned open.

Lucien walked in first, eyes wide as he scanned the massive facility. "It's huge! It looks like a stadium."

Rick froze.

Leon followed behind him. He looked lethal in his black training gear, but he was carrying a tiny, sky-blue backpack that definitely didn't belong to him.

And he was holding the boy's hand.

Leon didn't just hold it; he looked down every time the boy spoke, head tilted as if catching every syllable was a matter of national security.

Rick blinked. If it weren't for Leon's face being on every poster in the city, he'd think he had the wrong guy.

Joey waved an arm. "Lucien! Over here!"

Lucien forgot his earlier vow to ignore Joey and waved back with a bright smile. "Morning!"

Leon's eyes flickered toward Joey—cold and sharp. Joey immediately shrank back, hiding behind Rick.

"Go do your thing," Lucien told Leon, pointing toward the weights. "I'll just use the treadmill."

Leon didn't move. He followed Lucien to the machine, adjusting the speed and incline with meticulous care.

"Call me if you're bored," Leon commanded. "Understand?".

"Yes, yes. Go!"

Lucien started his walk, watching Leon walk away. But after ten minutes, the space beside him felt too empty. He kept glancing toward the ring, wondering if Leon had changed yet.

Merde, Lucien thought, hiding his burning face in his hands. Am I actually becoming a simp?

THUD.

A heavy sandbag flew backward, nearly ripping off its chain.

Joey stood to the side, face white as a sheet. "Lord... I'm coming to see you."

Leon stood in front of him, expressionless, his knuckles wrapped in black tape. He raised his hands, preparing for another set.

Joey caught sight of Lucien approaching. He let out a shriek that echoed off the high ceilings.

"Lucien! Save me! He's trying to murder me!"

Lucien blinked. "Me? I can't take a single punch from him."

"You can! You're the only one who can!"

Joey scrambled out of the ring, grabbing a set of oversized sparring gear. He practically bundled Lucien into the chest plate and shoved gloves onto his hands.

"Trust me," Joey whispered, pushing Lucien toward the ropes. "You're the Boxing King of the East. Go get 'em."

Lucien was effectively packaged and tossed into the ring.

Leon stood in the center, silent. He watched Lucien stumble forward, his oversized gloves making him look like a disgruntled stuffed toy.

Leon raised a hand, beckoning him.

"Don't look down on me!" Lucien huffed.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to look menacing, then lunged forward like a tiny, determined cannonball.

Leon didn't even break a sweat. He stepped to the side, snagging Lucien's waist as he passed and spinning him around.

Smack.

Leon's palm landed lightly on Lucien's rear.

"Too slow," Leon murmured. "Reaction time is zero."

Lucien stumbled back, face going nuclear. He didn't know whether to raise his fists or cover his butt.

"Again," Leon challenged.

Lucien grit his teeth and lunged again—this time aiming much lower.

Leon froze. He didn't move as Lucien's glove came dangerously close to his "valuables."

At the last second, Lucien pulled back. He couldn't do it.

"Why didn't you move?" Lucien snapped.

Leon laughed—a real, genuine sound. He closed the distance, dragging Lucien flush against his chest.

"Wanted to see if you had the heart to ruin me," Leon whispered.

His hands settled low on Lucien's hips. "I took such good care of you last night... and you're already aiming for my throat?".

Lucien's eyes went wide. He tried to shove a glove over Leon's mouth. "Stop talking! People are here!".

"No one's looking. Joey's too busy praying for his life."

Leon leaned down, his nose brushing against Lucien's. The air between them hummed with a familiar, dangerous static.

"When do I get to kiss you, baby?"

Lucien let out a small, defiant hum. "When I'm in a good mood."

Leon's gaze darkened. He pressed a quick, firm peck to the tip of Lucien's nose.

"Brat."

Lucien kicked him in the shin. "Teach me for real. You promised."