"By whom?"
Dean opened one eye and glanced at the phone.
It buzzed again, petulant and relentless, like it resented being ignored.
"Your future in-laws," Dean said flatly. "And my personal enemies."
Arion hummed, a sound that vibrated against Dean's shoulder. It should not have been attractive. It was. Dean hated everything.
He shifted, like a man trying not to disturb a sleeping predator.
Except the predator was already awake.
Dean didn't register the movement until it was too late.
Arion's hand slid past Dean's ribs in one clean motion and stole the phone out of Dean's grasp like he'd been born to confiscate contraband.
Dean froze.
His head turned a fraction, eyes narrowing. "Arion."
Arion didn't look at him. He was focused on the screen, pupils still heavy with sleep but sharpening rapidly with irritation and interest.
"Give it back," Dean said, his voice calm in the way it got right before violence.
Arion's thumb scrolled.
