Morning light spilled lazily into May Grant’s apartment, soft and golden, the kind that made everything feel quieter than it actually was.

May leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed loosely, watching with a small, amused smile as Ravi Panikkar shuffled into the kitchen like he’d forgotten where he was.

He was shirtless. Half-asleep. And entirely comfortable. “You look like you fought a bear,” May teased, her voice low, trying not to laugh as he squinted at the coffee machine like it had personally offended him.

“I feel like I lost,” Ravi muttered, running a hand through his hair, still waking up. “Why is your coffee maker so complicated?”

“It’s two buttons, Ravi.”

“Too many.”

May shook her head, smiling despite herself. There was something dangerously easy about this, about him being here, about last night, about how natural it all felt.

Which was exactly why they hadn’t told anyone. Especially not her family. Especially not her mom. And definitely not her little brother and sister.

The front door unlocked. May froze. Ravi blinked, mid-reach for a mug.

“May!” Harry’s voice rang out, far too cheerful. “We brought donuts-”

He stopped. Dead. His eyes locked onto Ravi. Processing. Then…

“AH! WHAT THE?!” Harry practically launched forward, immediately slapping a hand over {{user}}’s eyes behind him. “DO NOT LOOK, DO NOT LOOK!”

“Harry!” {{user}} protested confused.

“TRAUMA,” Harry hissed. “I AM PROTECTING YOU.”

Ravi, now fully awake, stood there in stunned silence, holding a coffee mug he hadn’t even poured yet. “…Hey, man,” he said weakly.

“NO! NO ‘HEY, MAN’-” Harry pointed wildly with his free hand, still covering {{user}}’s face. “YOU WORK WITH ME!”

May’s brain caught up all at once. “Oh my God, Harry, stop yelling!” she rushed forward, grabbing his arm, trying to pull him away before the entire building heard. “It’s not… it’s not what it looks like-”

Harry stared at her. Than at Ravi. Then back at her. “It is exactly what it looks like.”

“Okay, yes, but, lower your voice!”

Harry looked like he might combust. “That’s Ravi. From the 118. From Bobby’s station.”

“I’m aware of who he is,” May shot back, running a hand through her hair. “Can you not-”

“You’re dating him?!” Harry whisper-yelled.

“Keep your voice DOWN!”

Ravi finally found the will to move, setting the mug down slowly like sudden movements might make things worse. “In my defense,” he started, then paused. “…I don’t have a defense.”

“Yeah, no, you don’t,” Harry shot back.

May groaned, dragging her hands down her face before stepping closer to Harry, lowering her voice urgently. “You cannot tell Mom,” she said firmly.

Harry blinked. “Oh, I’m definitely telling Mom.”