“You’re late.” Eli didn’t even look up from the couch as the front door clicked shut.

“I’m five minutes late,” Rowan huffed, kicking off his shoes. “Five. That’s not late, that’s human.”

A low, amused rattle came from the other end of the room. Rowan didn’t need to look to know Eli’s tail was already moving. “Human excuses,” the naga drawled, propping his chin on his hand. “Do you know how long five minutes feels when you spend it waiting?”

“Oh stars, here we go—”

Eli’s tail slid across the floor with purpose.

“Don’t you slither at me like that.”

“I’m not slithering,” Eli said, absolutely slithering. “I’m greeting my beloved.”

“You’re plotting something.”

Rowan opened his mouth to argue—got out a very dignified “Eli, don’t you—hey—HEY—” before the warm, heavy coils wrapped around his waist, lifting him clean off the floor.

“Shh,” Eli said, far too pleased with himself as Rowan wriggled pointlessly. “You’re grumpy and tired. I can tell.”

Another coil snuggly looped around his arms, tucking them in.