"It'll cost me my time," Cyril frowns. "A very valuable resource—"

"Then I'll save up extra to pay for dates, and just do hugs and kisses other times," Aeton compromises easily. "They can't hurt ya any, and they'll only take a second each. Think of all the extra time you'll get for researchin' and readin', those kinds of things!"

"Direct payment is the best way to circumnavigate bureaucratic red tape..." Cyril finds himself nodding while Aeton eagerly looks on. Unfortunately, his tablet chooses to ping him at that moment with a text message: the driver downstairs has gotten a nudge from headquarters to speed him along.

"Fine," Cyril agrees quickly. "We'll put the new terms into effect tomorrow."

Aeton silently cheers.

He's soon wallowing in neglect however, because Cyril doesn't contact him for the next two weeks.

Feeling bored and restless, Aeton haunts the old alleyways and streets until he ends up beating up half the population of troublemakers in the area, starting a miniature reign of terror that lowers crime rate by 0.68% in the neighborhood.

—

16 days, 8 hours, and 23 minutes later, Cyril finally texts. The message is simple: Meet me at the labs in an hour.

It reaches Aeton in the middle of a fistfight, so he simply breaks the jaw of the last thug before calling a cab and speeding for the research facility. The security recognize him as an exception by now and wave him in, but he's accosted by a soldier in uniform as soon as he reaches the door to Cyril's laboratory.

"ID?" the soldier barks.

"I'm here on special permit," Aeton scowls and flashes him the e-card installed in his phone.

"I don't recognize that name from the staff database," the soldier replies while narrowing his eyes at Aeton's bloodied fists. "This is a sterilized environment—"

"Yo, Cyril!" Aeton raises his voice instead. "I'm here, lemme in!"

He expects a pause, but to his surprise the door opens in the next instant to reveal the scientist stepping out. He's gripping his tablet in one hand while scribbling with his stylus with the other, his eyes glued to the screen. Dark circles frame his eyes—not unusual for a Cyril deep in research, but creased brows wrinkle his forehead—a definite sign of stress. Aeton's just about to ask him what's the matter when he sees the tall, hulking general trailing out behind him.

"...so you must understand, Dr. Cyril, how eagerly we're awaiting these results—"

"My next appointment is here," Cyril says crisply and finally looks up at Aeton with an aggrieved air. "You're five minutes late."

Aeton shrugs. "There was traffic."

"Terrible. Whatever, let's go," Cyril brushes past Aeton with no other signals, but Aeton starts following him automatically down the hall.

"Dr. Cyril, who is this?" the old general asks amiably.

Cyril ignores him, forcing the general to follow as well. Aeton subconsciously speeds up so he can act as a wall between him and Cyril, but earns a narrowed stare for his efforts that quickly widens into realization.

"Dr. Cyril," the general clears his throat. When Cyril continues to treat him as air, he only smiles and continues, "You know that the new procedures will mean higher security clearances for all staff involved—"

"He has enough clearance," Cyril cuts in briefly, only glancing at Aeton before tapping furiously at his tablet again.

"Yes, but I'm afraid that'll be insufficient. You see, I've heard of your special subject here, but we simply can't allow civilians to participate in our trials. Think of the scandal! Why, I—"

"He's a registered employee, we have him on the payroll." Once again, Cyril interrupts.

"But he isn't army, is he?" the general quickly follows up. "From this point on, all trials will be restricted to military personnel only. And with his background, I hardly think it possible the army would recruit him—"

"Oi, ya gotta problem with my creds?" This time, it's Aeton who rebuffs him.

"His work history is flawless," Cyril adds flatly. "His colleagues and superiors can account for his character and professional demeanor."

Aeton is just feeling a tiny bubble of euphoria when the general clears his throat. "Ah, but I'm afraid Aesir Research isn't in charge of recruiting soldiers to the military."

The sound of footsteps halt. Aeton stops when Cyril turns around, the crease between his forehead more pronounced than ever.

"General Peyton, I presume?"

"Dr. Cyril," General Peyton acknowledges with a nod.

"If I understand correctly, the military funds a vast majority of Aesir Research's projects and holds executive say over allocation of its resources."

"That's correct."

"But I daresay even you, General Peyton, have no say in my personal affairs?"

The general's expression shows a flash of hesitation before he smooths his expression into a genial smile. "Naturally not, Dr. Cyril. Neither I nor the military will ever interfere in your private matters." To do so was tantamount to a career suicide, especially considered the hefty identity of the 20-year-old's legal guardians.

"Very well." Cyril seems to come to a conclusion, because the next second he tugs Aeton to his side.

"???" Aeton doesn't mind getting close, but he's still in the dark.

"Please, allow me to introduce you to my fiancée," Cyril carefully enunciates every single word. "We just started dating two weeks ago."

"!!!" Aeton's head snaps toward Cyril, but the latter is wearing a thin-lipped smile. His next reaction is to look at General Peyton, whose expression is nothing short of spectacular.

"W-what," the general huffs in disbelief. "What are you talking about, doctor?" After all, he had just gotten agreement from Cyril's "parents" to arrange a meeting between him and his granddaughter this week. Where did this third wheel pop out from?

"I assume you understand English," Cyril continues in a bright tone. "He was my boyfriend. Now we're engaged. The next step is, naturally, marriage—ah, but I forgot, we've yet to find rings." He glances up at the dumbfounded Aeton with all the brilliance of his sleep-deprived panda eyes. "Come on, we're going shopping."

"Wh—" Aeton's reaction cuts off when Cyril jabs an elbow into his side. Suddenly regaining his senses, he grabs Cyril's hand and runs for the exit. "Rightrightright, you better buy me the biggest diamond there is!"

"Stop—!" General Peyton's protests break off as soon as they leave through the doors.

The "happy couple" make it all the way to the parking lot, where Cyril calls for his usual chauffeur to ferry them to the biggest mall in the city. In a daze, Aeton realizes they're both sitting in the back seat this time and feels like laughing. He squeezes their hands and—Cyril promptly lets him go.

"....." Aeton cries internally at missing his free tofu. "All right, what's the deal?" he asks instead. "Last time ya said ya didn't like me and today we're engaged?"

"Legal loophole," Cyril doesn't look up from his tablet as he resumes typing at a furious pace. "Like you heard, the military can't touch my spouse."

Aeton's heart warms considerably at "spouse," but he's quick to get to business. "Uh-huh, and my job?" he prods. "It doesn't sound like I'll be doin' any of those weapons trials soon."

"As long as you still have access to the lab, I can take care of the rest," Cyril replies, looking up from his screen. "I've found a civil office that officiates weddings, we can get an appointment before the end of the day."

"H-hold up," Aeton feels that things are suddenly moving very fast. "A civil—we haven't even gotten wedding rings yet!"

"Right, we'll buy them with the engagement rings," Cyril agrees. "Do you have a preferred style? I understand it's the wife's tastes that take preference in these relationships."

Wife's tastes? Aeton is about to question him when he recalls Cyril's words.

Please, allow me to introduce you to my fiancée.

My fiancée.

Fiancée...

"How come I'm the wife?!" he sputters indignantly.

Cyril is completely unmoved. "Because I'm paying for the rings. I also have a higher salary than you."

"So?! I'm taller!"

"Does that matter?"

"The husband's always the taller one! I'm also stronger an' more buff!"

"Those are only superficial considerations."

"I'm older than ya too!"

"Again, surface considerations," Cyril shakes his head. "Besides, if you were the husband you'd have to ask my guardians for permission to marry me. I don't have to ask anyone at all."

"That ain't true," Aeton huffs, "Ya still have to ask me!"

Cyril blinks for a second as he falters. Then he nods. "Alright. Aeton, will you marry me?"

His tone is as flat as always, his face pale and expressionless. He might have been discussing the latest round of lab results or asking to borrow a pen. Aeton stares at him, this perfectly intelligent yet indifferent man, before he feels his temper drain away like rainwater into a gutter.

"Ya don't need to go that far," he finishes lamely.

"Of course I do," Cyril disagrees. "I can't afford to lose you, my most valuable—"

"Investment, right?" Aeton finishes for him with a wry grin. He reaches over to ruffle Cyril's hair, ignoring the unamused glare he gets as a result. "Yeah well, ya better make it worthwhile. I meant it when I said the biggest diamond ring!"

Cyril seems unaffected as he processes the words and nods. "Okay."

—

They pull up to the mall, but Cyril has the driver make a detour at a pharmacy first to bandage Aeton's hand. Luckily, his ring finger is undamaged. Later at the jewelry shop, they don't actually buy the biggest diamond ring because it looks disgustingly gaudy, but Cyril compromises by finding a very expensive one in black tungsten with a band of gems. Aeton can't help having mixed feelings as the cashier congratulates them on their impending wedding.

"Put it on," Cyril pushes the box at him after they leave the store.

"Yer supp'sd to propose first," Aeton argues, trying to push it back.

Cyril looks at him, then repeats the familiar line. "Aeton, will you marry me?"

Aeton tries to stop his twitching eyebrow as he urges, "Yer supp'sd to get on one knee—"

"I'd be too short to reach you then," Cyril says impatiently. He's already taking the ring out of the box. "Give me your hand."

"That's the wrong ring," Aeton points out immediately. "It's supp'sd to be the engagement one first, an' then—"

Cyril takes out the other ring and shoves them both on Aeton's finger. "There, done."

Aeton gives him a deadpan look. "That was awful, Cyril."

"I'm learning as fast as I can," Cyril grumbles as he stalks off.

"Huh?" Aeton frowns. That ain't his usual answer. He hurries after him. "Oi wait up, I still gotta give ya yers!"

Before they can talk further, Cyril's tablet goes off again. He's already blocked multiple calls from the lab and General Peyton, but this time he frowns at the caller ID.

"Yer folks?" Aeton asks, recognizing the name of Cyril's legal father.

Cyril's lips thinned before he skips the call and goes to text message. "When we're done with the paperwork, I'll take you to meet them officially."

"Meet who?" Aeton asks, his brain still playing catch-up.

"My 'parents.'"

Aeton nearly trips over his feet.

He's still reeling hours later in the car, holding a brand new marriage certificate in his hands while Cyril directs the driver to take them home.

Really? They were married just like that?

And after just one date, too... Aeton feels mournful. Of course, this is his best end, but hadn't they skipped too many steps along the way? Scratch that, Cyril didn't even like him that way. 10 out of 10 the guy was only doing this to keep his test subject handy. Aeton sighs.

His has to be the saddest love story yet, and it even has a happy ending.

"What's wrong?" A voice asks, and Aeton stops drooping to see Cyril seated next to him, still flipping through his tablet.

"Nuthin'."

"You don't look like 'nothing,'" Cyril murmurs.

"Well, what am I supp'sd to be?" Aeton retorts. "An' what's goin' on with yer projects an' stuff? Why's the top brass all meddlin' in yer business?"

Cyril cocks his head at him. "Aesir Research is part of their 'business' to begin with."

"Alright, but they ain't never bother'd ya much before," Aeton points out.

Cyril fiddles with something on his screen before he deigns to answer. "It's the government's orders. They want to bulk up the military, so that means more restrictions and security around what they do."

"So?" Aeton knows that can't be all.

Cyril exhales and looks him straight in the eye. "We're going to war, Aeton."