The conversation flowed, letting the people who didn’t know listen in. But this also made them feel alienated at the same time.

The air was thick with "Do you remember when" and "That night at the border," creating a private bubble of history that Neville, Sarah, and Iris had no part in.

Neville didn’t mind not being part of it. He had only come into this world a year and a half ago; he had no military record or shared childhood to offer.

He found it was actually quite useful; he could learn things about Grayson’s past, things Grayson might never think to mention, without having to force anyone to tell him.

Besides, Grayson was right there beside him.

While the others laughed about rations and sandstorms, Grayson was focused on him.

He was quietly picking the best cuts of meat and placing them on Neville’s plate. Neville was also doing the same for him.

"The sauce on this one is a bit sweet," Neville whispered, leaning toward Grayson as the others debated the merits of Batch 8 vs Batch 9.

"It’s the miel1-glaze you told me before," Grayson replied, his voice low, intended only for Neville’s ears. "It balances the spice. Do you like it?"

"Mm. It’s good," Neville said, offering Grayson a small piece of the glazed root vegetable he had just tried.

With how close Grayson was sitting, it seemed like he was holding himself back from feeding Neville himself.

His hand would sometimes hover near Neville’s fork. Sometimes, his thumb would brush against Neville’s wrist as they exchanged pieces of food.

Their intimate actions were so obvious that others just let them be while staying silent.

Neville knew Grayson wanted to do more, be closer, but there were other people here. He wasn’t ready for that kind of public display of affection.

Rather, his heart wasn’t.

Neville suddenly recalled that time when Grayson had fed him1.

He was forced to sit on Grayson’s lap, Grayson’s tail wrapped around his waist, securing him comfortably in place. Grayson’s chin was hooked over his shoulder as he asked him to eat.

He recalled how Grayson lifted that taco in front of his lips. How his eyes darkened as he stared at him, waiting to take a bite into it.

And then he...

His face instantly burned red.

The heat crawled up his neck and settled in his cheeks. A vivid crimson that was impossible to hide under the dining room lights.

Grayson stopped mid-reach, his brow furrowing as he noticed the sudden change.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice dropping in concern. "Is the food too spicy? Did you burn yourself?"

Neville’s heart hammered against his ribs.

He couldn’t exactly say ’I was thinking about you feeding me and kissing me,’ not when you don’t even remember it yourself.

"Nothing," Neville said quickly, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

He grabbed a particularly large, succulent piece of meat from his own plate and practically shoved it onto Grayson’s.

"Just... eat. You’re talking too much."

Grayson eyed the meat, then eyed Neville with deep suspicion.

He knew Neville’s "Nothing" was a lie since he smelled a whiff of Neville’s pheromones that leaked and saw his face turn red.

But since Neville refused to look him in the eye, Grayson let it go for now.

"Fine," Grayson murmured, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "But you can’t just bribe me with a piece of meat."

Neville kept his head down, focusing on his plate, his face still warm.

He didn’t bribe him with a piece of meat!

Then he felt Grayson’s knee nudging to his under the table. Neville, with a burning red face, turned towards Grayson in indignation.

This is unfair! He was also hiding something, we’re even!

Grayson’s smile was still hanging in there innocently, like he had done nothing.

But Neville was not one to back down. He stamped on Grayson’s feet hard to make his point.

No bribing, no punishment! Nothing for later!

Grayson acted like nothing happened, even though he felt his feet ache.

Lilianna’s voice snapped Neville back to his senses.

"—and then Grayson just stood there."

She said as she gestured with a piece of glazed meat for emphasis.

"He was soaking wet, holding that heavy reactor coupling like it was a gold trophy. The entire training bay was flooded up to our ankles in coolant and gray water. The instructors were all stunned; they didn’t know whether to call a court-martial on him or promote him for saving the core."

Helena tilted her head, a slow smirk spreading across her face as she swirled the wine in her glass.

"Oh? I heard a different version of that story. I heard a certain cadet Maxwell tripped over a cable and took the coupling down with him."

Lilianna let out a sharp, melodic laugh.

"Helena, I was there. I was the one holding the flashlight while he waded through the surge. You were off doing the border patrol."

"Reconnaissance," Helena corrected with a cool, shark-like grin.

"Terrifying reconnaissance,"

Lilianna insisted, her eyes sparkling.

"Admit it, Grayson, it was a disaster. You looked like a drowned cat, yet you had the audacity to give the Sergeant a formal salute while dripping all over his boots."

Grayson showed no reaction and continued eating calmly. He looked like a man who had already decided to outlive the embarrassing stories about himself.

It seemed that he was really dead set on ignoring Lilianna from now on. Not a trace of his initial intention when he left Neville alone.

Neville, watching beside him, found the story... cute.

The idea of this untouchable Alpha being a stubborn, soaking-wet cadet made the man beside him feel like a human.

Grayson sensed Neville’s stare. He paused his fork and raised an eyebrow.

What?

Neville didn’t look away. Instead, he gave Grayson a mischievously teasing smile.

He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were shouting: So, you were a menace even back then?

Grayson felt the prickle of heat at the back of his neck. Helpless against that playful spark in his Omega’s eyes, he reached out.

Without a word, he took a perfectly sliced piece of solanum from his own plate and fed it directly into Neville’s mouth—as if to shut him up.

Neville’s mouth might’ve stopped smiling as he was forced to chew, but his eyes were filled with even more mirth than before.

Grayson’s fingers grazed on Neville’s chin before he had to gently press Neville’s cheeks with the palm of his hand to turn his face back toward the food before them.

"Eat," Grayson muttered, "Before you choke on your own thoughts."