Caleb had always imagined places like this—Dev's apartment—as backdrops in music videos. The kind with glass walls, minimalist furniture, and light that moved like liquid gold across every perfect surface.
He stood in the hallway barefoot, eyes tracing the layout: the open-plan kitchen with slate countertops, the sleek staircase leading to a mezzanine bedroom, the wraparound view of a city still stretching awake. Everything was impossibly curated. It didn't just look expensive. It looked fictional.
"Jesus," Caleb murmured, stepping slowly onto the polished hardwood floor. "You live in a Bond villain's dream."
He ran his hand along a sculptural credenza that probably cost more than his car. His reflection caught in a tall mirror shaped like a broken teardrop. Every inch whispered: you do not belong here.
And then—bam—the smell hit him.
Something sizzling. Rich and savory. His stomach flipped, and his head turned toward the kitchen just in time to see—
Dev.
Shirtless.
Hair damp, like he'd run wet fingers through it instead of using a towel. A single silver chain resting lightly against his chest. A kitchen towel flung over one shoulder. And in his hands, a tray holding breakfast.
"Morning," Dev said, utterly casual. Like he hadn't just shattered the axis of Caleb's brain.
Caleb blinked. "Are you… bringing me breakfast?"
Dev grinned. "I would've made you eat at the table, but you looked too good framed by that window."
Caleb swallowed, doing his best not to audibly malfunction.
"Okay, hold on. You live in a movie set, you cook like it's a love language, and now you're serving me shirtless breakfast? What is this? A dream? Am I concussed?"
Dev set the tray on the glass coffee table with a low clink and straightened up slowly.
"I told you. I pay attention."
Caleb stared at the spread: fluffy eggs, toast perfectly golden, fresh avocado, strawberries sliced into hearts. Hearts.
"What the hell, Dev," he muttered, sitting down slowly. "This is insane."
Dev sat beside him, warm and a little smug. "I don't do this for just anyone."
Caleb looked over, brow raised. "You do this at all?"
Dev tilted his head. "Only when I want them to stay."
That silenced him.
Not in a bad way—just the kind of silence that gets under your ribs. Caleb looked down at the tray again, the plate prepared like it meant something, and for a second, he didn't feel like a bartender or a guy crashing on a couch.
He felt wanted.
Caleb picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, eyes still locked on Dev. "Okay, fine. But next time, I'm cooking for you."
Dev blinked. "Next time?"
Caleb smirked. "Don't act surprised. You brought this on yourself."
And just like that, the weight lifted, replaced by something easy. Familiar. Dangerous in all the best ways.
Caleb had cleaned his plate embarrassingly fast, which Dev clearly noticed because he slid over a small second helping of eggs without a word. They sat on the couch like they'd done this a hundred times, toes brushing lazily, an old movie playing muted in the background.
Dev reached over to refill Caleb's coffee from the French press on the tray. Caleb raised a brow, accepting the cup.
"Is this, like, a regular Sunday for you?"
"Minus the half-dressed guest on my couch? Not really," Dev said with a smirk.
Caleb rolled his eyes, sipping. "Sorry, did I ruin your luxury solitude?"
"You upgraded it."
That made Caleb pause, the compliment catching him off guard. He glanced away, staring at the skyline like it could help cool the flush rising to his cheeks.
They fell into a comfortable silence until Caleb muttered, half to himself, "Shit. I forgot I was supposed to pick something up for my mom."
Dev glanced over. "Birthday?"
"Tomorrow. I was gonna go after my shift tonight, but…" Caleb looked down at his borrowed T-shirt. "Now I'm here. In the sky."
Dev leaned back, one arm resting on the back of the couch, eyes never leaving him.
"What were you going to get her?"
Caleb shrugged. "She's hard to shop for. I usually just end up with flowers and a spa candle."
Dev tilted his head. "That sounds like a job for... someone with a car. And a credit card. And excellent taste."
Caleb looked up slowly. "Are you offering to take me shopping?"
Dev stood with a little stretch—slow, catlike, effortless—and walked toward the hallway, grabbing his phone and keys. "Not just offering. I'm insisting."
Caleb blinked. "Dev, you don't have to—"
"I know. But I want to."
"Why?"
Dev turned in the doorway, already pulling on a loose button-down over his bare chest, not bothering to button it yet. "Because you take care of people. It's nice to be taken care of sometimes, too."
Caleb didn't answer.
He just got up, set his mug in the kitchen sink, and followed Dev down the hall.
---
Midday — Designer Boutiques, Silver Escalators, and Something Like a Date
The mall Dev brought them to was the kind of place that had a piano playing on the second floor. The escalators were silver. The perfume air was just this side of overwhelming. Caleb stared, wide-eyed, as Dev led him past displays full of shimmering things and absurd price tags.
"I don't think my mom needs a thousand-dollar silk scarf," Caleb whispered.
Dev smirked, pulling him gently toward a more down-to-earth shop. "We're not here to impress her bank account. We're here to impress her."
"Are you always this extra?"
Dev gave him a sidelong glance. "Only when I like someone."
Caleb stopped walking.
Dev kept going, only noticing after a few steps. He turned.
"Hey," Caleb said, voice soft. "I really like you too."
Dev's expression shifted. Just a little.
But it was enough to say, Okay. This is real.
Then he held out his hand, palm open. "Come on. Let's find the perfect gift. Then maybe something for you too."
Caleb took it.
And they disappeared into the store together, the doors sliding closed behind them like a curtain on act one.
Evening — The Drive and the Surprise Lunch
The sun had dipped low enough to turn the buildings golden as they pulled away from the mall, Dev's sleek black car gliding through the streets like it had never heard of traffic. The interior smelled faintly of leather and cedar. Caleb sat in the passenger seat, hands in his lap, shopping bag nestled at his feet like something radioactive.
He'd been silent for the first five minutes, but now—
"I can't believe you let me spend that much."
Dev glanced over, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. "You didn't. I did."
Caleb groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. "Dev. That candle alone was $80. The silk scarf, the monogrammed robe, the—what even was that last thing?"
"A rose quartz facial roller set. It's for lymphatic drainage."
Caleb blinked. "She's gonna think I've lost my mind."
Dev smiled faintly. "She's gonna think her son loves her and has excellent taste."
Caleb turned his head, eyes tracing Dev's profile. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
"But why?"
The car slowed at a red light. Dev looked over at him. No teasing, no flirtation—just calm, warm truth.
"Because you matter to me."
Caleb's breath caught.
The light turned green, and the moment passed—but not really. It stayed there, soft and sure, between them.
A few minutes later, Dev pulled into the valet loop of a restaurant so elegant it didn't have a sign—just a wall of ivy, a host in a dark green suit, and a gold crest above the door.
Caleb stared. "We're eating here?"
"Why not?" Dev stepped out and tossed the keys to the valet like he did it every Sunday. He came around to open Caleb's door.
Caleb got out slowly, heart hammering. "I think I'm underdressed."
"You're with me. That's all you need."
---
Inside — Crisp Linens and Melt-In-Your-Mouth Everything
The restaurant was a quiet symphony of soft jazz, muted clinks of silverware, and the murmur of old money conversations. The hostess didn't blink when Dev gave his name—just smiled and led them to a private table near a window.
Everything smelled like herbs and wine and fresh baked bread.
Caleb sat gingerly, still clutching the shopping bag like a shield.
"Dev."
Dev lifted a brow as he unfolded his napkin.
"You spent over fifteen hundred dollars today."
Dev shrugged. "I've spent more on watches I don't wear."
"But you spent it on me. For my mom."
"I told you." Dev's gaze found his. "She matters to you. You matter to me. Simple math."
Caleb stared, throat tight.
He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say I'm not used to this. He wanted to say I think I'm falling for you faster than I know how to handle. But all he managed was:
"I don't know what to do with you."
Dev's smile softened. "Then don't do anything. Just eat with me."
And so they did—slowly, warmly, without any rush to leave. Caleb started to relax. He cracked jokes. He tried things he couldn't pronounce. He forgot for a little while that the world outside existed.
Because inside this moment, with Dev across the table and candlelight catching in his lashes, everything felt just right.