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The Lighthouse was quiet that morning, the usual bustle of the Veilguard dulled by the early hour. None of the others were up yet except Rook. It was quiet as he walked to the kitchen.
He hadn’t meant to wake up this early, but sleep had eluded him, so he figured he might as well find something to do. Maybe get some food. Maybe steal some of Lucanis’s coffee—if the assassin had made extra, which was rare, but Rook could always hope.
It was with that thought in mind that he made his way to the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his messy hair as he yawned. He rounded the corner—only to freeze in his tracks.
Lucanis was standing near the counter, shirtless, holding a damp cloth in one hand and looking thoroughly unimpressed with his current situation. A discarded tunic sat crumpled on the table nearby, stained dark with what Rook immediately recognized as coffee.
Lucanis had just taken his shirt off.
Which meant Rook had walked in just as Lucanis had taken his shirt off.
And Maker’s breath, he had not been prepared for that.
Lucanis was lean but well-built, every muscle defined beneath tanned skin. The assassin was always fast, always precise, but now Rook had a very clear visual of just how strong he actually was. A network of faint scars traced over his arms and torso—some thin and barely noticeable, others more pronounced. Evidence of a lifetime spent in the shadows, of fights survived, of a past Rook knew only in pieces.
Lucanis hadn’t noticed him yet, still distracted by trying to clean himself off. Rook could turn around. He could back out of the room before—
Lucanis glanced up.
He raised a brow, lips twitching slightly. "Are you just going to stand there, or…?"
Rook blinked rapidly, realizing he was still standing there. Staring.
Shit.
He scrambled for something to say—anything—but his mouth seemed to be operating independently of his brain, because before he could stop himself, he blurted out:
"Uhh, I’m grading you."
Lucanis blinked. "Grading me?"
Rook swallowed. "Yeah. Congrats, B+."
A silence stretched between them.
Then, slowly, Lucanis set the cloth down. His smirk widened.
"You’re grading me," he repeated, voice low with amusement.
Rook cleared his throat, nodding far too quickly. "Yep. That’s what I said."
Lucanis tilted his head, watching him with the kind of lazy confidence that immediately put Rook on edge.
"And what, exactly," Lucanis mused, taking a step closer, "bumped me down from the top score?"
Rook tensed. "Uh—"
Lucanis took another step, closing the distance between them with that same slow, predatory grace he always had. "I think," he continued, voice smooth, "I deserve the top score. And you know it."
Rook’s brain had completely shut down.
Lucanis was now right there, still very much shirtless, and all Rook could do was try very hard not to let his eyes drift lower.
He failed.
Lucanis caught it immediately, his smirk deepening. "Oh?"
Rook felt heat crawling up the back of his neck. "That—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "That wasn’t—"
Lucanis leaned in, just slightly. "Wasn’t what?"
Rook swallowed hard. "Wasn’t anything."
Lucanis hummed, clearly not convinced. "Mm. Could’ve fooled me."
Rook needed to get out of this situation before his entire face turned red.
He took a deliberate step back, clearing his throat. "Right. Well. I’ll just—uh—leave you to your tragic coffee accident."
Lucanis chuckled, but didn’t stop him as he made a very hasty exit.
Rook almost made it out unscathed.
Almost.
Just as he reached the door, Lucanis called after him, voice light and teasing:
"Next time you’re grading me, Rook, be thorough."
Rook groaned.
Lucanis was never letting this go.