"Okay, so here's what we're going to do," Naomi announces with the kind of authority that suggests she's been planning this for the past hour.
Which, knowing Naomi, she probably has been.
"We're going to have a girls' night. Except you're not a girl, but you're under my protection now so you count as an honorary girl for the evening."
I blink at her from where I'm sitting on the couch. "Naomi—"
"No arguments! We're going to watch movies and eat snacks and talk about feelings and you are going to tell me everything about how you ended up with both of them."
She's practically bouncing with excitement.
"And they—" She points toward the kitchen where Keith and Dylan are presumably still recovering from her earlier interrogation. "—are banned from this room for the night."
"You can't ban them from their own living room."
"Watch me."
I open my mouth to protest further when Naomi's expression shifts—becoming more serious, more concerned.
"Cecil," she says quietly, settling beside me. "Are you happy? With them?"
The question catches me off guard.
"Yes," I say, and the certainty in my voice surprises even me. "Really happy."
"And they treat you well? They're not pressuring you or—"
"No. Nothing like that." I feel my face warm slightly. "They're... they're perfect, actually. Patient and kind and—" I stop, not sure how to put into words what Keith and Dylan mean to me.
Naomi studies my face for a long moment. Then she smiles—soft and genuine.
"Good. That's all I needed to know." She stands, dusting off her hands. "But I'm still having a girls' night with you because I missed you and also because I have questions."
Before I can respond, she's moving around the room with purpose—grabbing blankets, rearranging pillows, generally taking over the space like she owns it.
"Wait here," she commands. "I'm going to get supplies. Don't move."
She disappears down the hallway and I hear her rummaging through what sounds like the linen closet.
This is fine. This is normal. Naomi is just being Naomi.
She returns a moment later with an armful of blankets and—
Is that rope?
"Naomi, why do you have rope?"
"For the fort, obviously!" She starts arranging blankets over the couch with the kind of engineering precision that suggests she's done this before. "We're building a blanket fort. It's non-negotiable."
"Where did you even find rope in this apartment?"
"Keith's room. He had it in his closet."
I'm not going to think about why Keith has rope in his closet. I'm just not.
Naomi continues her construction project, draping blankets and securing them with the rope in increasingly elaborate ways. At one point she gets a bit too enthusiastic and her hair gets caught in one of the knots.
"Ow, ow, ow—"
"Hold still," I say, moving to help her. "Your hair is tangled."
"I can feel that," she mutters, trying not to move while I carefully work her hair free from the rope.
"There. Got it."
"Thanks." She rubs her head, checking for damage. "Okay, new plan. The fort can wait. First, we need to make sure you don't escape."
"Wait, what?"
Before I can process what's happening, Naomi has looped the rope around my wrists with surprising efficiency.
"Naomi!"
"It's for your own good!" She's tying knots with the confidence of someone who definitely watched a YouTube tutorial about this. "You're clearly under some kind of spell. Those two have enchanted you with their—" She waves a hand vaguely. "—their charm and their faces and whatever else they're doing. You need deprogramming."
"I don't need—Naomi, this is ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous is letting yourself be swept away by not one but TWO Celestians without proper evaluation!" She finishes the knot and steps back, looking proud of herself. "There. Now you can't run away while I get the snacks."
I stare down at my bound wrists.
The knots are actually pretty good. Secure but not painful. She clearly put thought into this.
The thing is... I know how to untie these. The rope isn't that complicated, and I've picked up a few things over the years from various survival situations in my past life.
But I'm curious.
What will Keith and Dylan do when they find out Naomi tied me up?
The thought brings a small smile to my face despite the absurdity of the situation.
"Don't look so smug," Naomi says, misinterpreting my expression. "This is for your own good. I'll be right back with snacks. Don't go anywhere!"
She disappears into the kitchen, and I hear her rummaging through cabinets.
I settle back against the couch, testing the ropes experimentally. Yeah, I could definitely get out of these if I wanted to.
But where's the fun in that?
A few minutes pass. Naomi is still in the kitchen, apparently having a disagreement with Keith and Dylan about snack ownership based on the muffled voices I can hear.
Then I hear it.
A soft tapping sound.
Coming from the window.
I turn my head and freeze.
Keith is outside the window.
Three stories up.
Just... hovering there. Floating in midair like it's the most natural thing in the world, grinning at me through the glass.
He waves cheerfully.
I mouth what are you doing?
He points at the window latch, raising his eyebrows in question.
No, I mouth back. Get down from there!
Keith's grin widens. He holds up one finger. Then two. Then three—
"Keith, I swear to god if you don't get down from there before I count to three—"
But he's already opening the window with his powers, the latch clicking open smoothly.
He slides through with practiced ease, landing in the living room with barely a sound.
"Hi," he says brightly, as if he didn't just break into his own apartment through a third-story window.
"You're insane," I hiss, keeping my voice low so Naomi doesn't hear. "You could have fallen!"
"I can fly."
"That's not the point!"
Keith moves closer, taking in the rope around my wrists. His expression shifts from amused to something more concerned.
"Did Naomi do this?"
"Yes. She's protecting me from you, apparently."
"By tying you up?"
"Her logic is questionable in some cases but yes."
Keith kneels in front of me, his hands hovering over the ropes but not touching. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine. The knots are actually pretty good." I pause. "I could get out if I wanted to."
His eyebrows rise in surprise. "Really?"
"Really. But I wanted to see what you'd do."
A slow grin spreads across Keith's face. "You wanted to see if we'd rescue you."
My face heats. "That's not—I was just curious—"
"It's cute," Keith interrupts, and before I can protest, he's scooping me up—ropes and all—into his arms.
"Keith!"
"Shh. Naomi will hear." He winks at me. "We're going back another way."
"What do you mean another—"
The world shifts.
It's that same sensation of being pulled through space—disorienting and strange but over in seconds.
When reality settles back into place, we're in Dylan's room.
Dylan is sitting on his bed, looking completely unsurprised to see us appear out of nowhere. In fact, he's smirking.
"Took you long enough," he says.
"I had to wait for Naomi to leave the room," Keith replies, setting me down on the bed carefully.
Dylan's eyes land on the rope around my wrists and his smirk widens.
"Well," he says, his voice dropping slightly. "This is very interesting."
My heart does something complicated.
"Naomi tied me up," I say quickly. "To protect me from you."
"How thoughtful of her." Dylan moves closer, examining the knots with what appears to be professional interest. "These are actually well done. She knows what she's doing."
"She probably watched a lot of YouTube tutorials."
"Mm." Dylan's fingers brush against my wrist, testing the rope. "You know, Cecil, unless this is one of your hidden kinks, you really shouldn't let people tie you up."
My brain short-circuits completely.
Did he just—
Did Dylan just say—
"I—" My voice comes out strangled. "It's not—I don't—"
Dylan's smirk grows. "No? You're sure?"
Keith is trying very hard not to laugh behind me.
"Dylan," I manage, trying to sound calm and dignified despite the fact that my heart is about to explode out of my chest. "Can you please just untie me?"
"Say please again. But nicer this time."
"Just do it already."
"That's not very nice."
"Dylan!"
He finally takes pity on me, his fingers working at the knots with practiced efficiency. Within seconds, the rope falls away and my wrists are free.
I immediately start planning his demise.
Something slow. Painful. Involving public humiliation and possibly Keith's terrible cooking.
Dylan must see something in my expression because he suddenly bursts out laughing—proper, full-body laughter that I've rarely heard from him.
"I'm sorry," he gasps between laughs. "I'm sorry, I was just joking. Your face—you should have seen your face—"
"I'm going to kill you," I say flatly.
"Worth it."
Keith is doubled over now too, laughing so hard he has to sit down.
I stare at both of them, plotting increasingly elaborate revenge scenarios.
They think this is funny.
They think teasing me is funny.
Well.
Two can play that game.
I file the thought away for later, along with approximately seventeen different revenge ideas that range from mildly annoying to absolutely diabolical.
"You done?" I ask when their laughter finally starts to subside.
"For now," Dylan manages, wiping his eyes.
"Good. Because Naomi is going to notice I'm gone soon and she's going to come looking."
As if summoned, we hear footsteps in the hallway.
"Cecil?" Naomi's voice calls out. "Where did you—CECIL!"
The door to Dylan's room slams open.
Naomi stands there, holding a bag of chips, looking absolutely betrayed.
"You escaped!" She points an accusatory finger at me. "I tied you up!"
"I had help," I say, gesturing at Keith and Dylan.
Her eyes narrow. "I should have known. You two—" She advances into the room. "—are corrupting him!"
"We're not corrupting anyone," Keith protests.
"He's tied up—or he was tied up—and now he's in your room! This is exactly the kind of behavior I was trying to prevent!"
"Naomi," I say gently. "I'm okay. I promise."
She looks at me, then at them, then back at me.
"But your lips are still swollen," she says weakly.
"I know."
"And you're with both of them."
"Yes."
"And you're happy?"
"Very happy."
Naomi deflates slightly, the fight going out of her. "Okay. Fine. But if they hurt you, I'm coming back with more rope and better knots."
"Noted," Dylan says, still smiling.
She points at all three of us. "I'm watching you. All of you."
Then she turns and marches out, muttering something about "needing better security measures" and "YouTube tutorials on advanced knot tying."
The door closes behind her.
Silence.
Then Keith starts laughing again.
"She's terrifying," he says.
"She means well," I reply.
"She tied you up."
"With good intentions."
Dylan is looking at me with that intense focus he gets sometimes. "You really could have gotten out of those ropes yourself."
"Maybe."
"Definitely." His smirk returns. "You wanted to see what we'd do."
"So what if I did?"
"It's cute," Keith says again, moving to sit beside me. "You wanted to be rescued."
"I wanted to see if you'd notice I was missing."
"We always notice when you're missing," Dylan says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes my chest tight.
Keith's arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side.
Dylan settles on my other side, his hand finding mine.
And I sit there between them, plotting revenge and feeling overwhelmingly loved in equal measure.
"I'm still going to get you back for that kink comment," I mutter to Dylan.
"I look forward to it."
"It's going to be terrible."
"I don't doubt it."
Keith laughs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "This is going to be fun."
"For who?"
"All of us, hopefully."
And despite my plans for revenge, despite the embarrassment still burning in my cheeks, despite everything—
I smile.
Because he's right.
This is going to be fun.