The shift in Ray, the difference between the Raymond that is with Rip and the one that is lonely and unbonded, is so stark it actually scares Jax (and by extension, spooks Stein) when he comes bounding through the ship, big and joyful and mindful of his size despite it.
Nobody really minds, though. Sara raises her eyebrows at Rip, her grin knowing and so, so fucking smug, and Kendra is just happy that Ray's happy again, though she misses being needed (she wonders sometimes if it makes her selfish, wanting Ray for herself because he's soft and kind and reminds her of Carter.) Len wishes Ray wasn't so gleeful, because it'sĀ a very tiring thing, but he just rolls his eyes and tips his head the other way to ignore him.
Thump.
Raymond bops the doorframe of Rip's office with the toe of his shoe, because he's about three seconds from dropping everything everywhere. He's brought dinner, and juice, and a milkshake that's too fucking big but has two straws in it like it's a date at a sofa shop in 19-fucking-50, and under his arm against his ribs is a notebook. He has a pen sideways in his mouth and his glasses are crooked.
Rip can't say he's surprised, necessarily, by Ray's appearance-- he likes being around, and Rip in turn likes his company-- but he is surprised by everything he's got with him. "Raymond," he says, tone stern, but it doesn't stop him from putting away his pencil and coming forward to take some of the things in Ray's arms.
The food is deposited on his table, the milkshake and juice kept away from the maps Rip's been charting a course on. He helps Ray with everything else, too, and pulls one of the chairs up for him to sit on.
"You could have told me you needed me in the kitchen," he sighs, but all the same there is the slightest little tug of a smile on his mouth as he goes to roll the maps up and slide them back into their cases. "I didn't realise it was time for dinner already."
"I could have," Ray agrees, waiting so that Rip's things are out of the way before he starts putting anything down. He's mindful of what he's placing where, but he's put together something nice just the same - rosemary and thyme roasted chicken with brown on the skin, a pile of crisp asparagus and herby mashed potatoes, all still fresh and hot. Ray's good at a lot of things, and he's improved cooking over the last little while. Being with Rip makes him want to do better, for Rip as well as for their kids.
So Ray spends time puttering around in the kitchen in his stupid little apron, and he knows he could use the fabricator, but there's something about the love that he puts into the food that he makes. It's hard to really define - but it's there.
He leans in to catch a kiss, hand finding a place on the small of Rip's back. He touches all the time. Constantly. It's all very intimate but very safe, is the thing - it's all just checking in with him, maintaining a level of physical closeness even if they're at other ends of the ship. "But I thought I'd let you work until it was time to eat. I know how you are." Does he ever.
It's been a while since Rip's properly affirmed their bond in the mark on Ray's skin, but the kiss to his mouth still sends him like it's the first time. The chasteness of it doesn't matter; it's Ray, and he belongs to him, and Rip has the smallest little growl in his throat because Ray belongs to him.
"You don't know how I am specifically," he says, which is a weak argument until he's catching Ray's pretty brown eyes with his own. "I'd stop working for you, love. You're about the only distraction that works." And chances are that's what Ray means, that he doesn't want to get in the way, but Rip doesn't see Ray coming to visit during a less-heated planning session as a bad thing.
"Mm." Rip cups Ray's cheek to give him one more kiss. "Thank you, though. Come on" -- when he pulls away, it's to pull a chair over for Ray to sit in, and a less comfortable one for his own -- "down with you. No need to stand."
Rip sits right at Ray's side. "What's this you brought with the food?"
Ray hums at him, pleased, and brings a hand up to stroke his jaw as he growls. It's impossibly sexy. It will always be impossibly sexy, no matter how many times he hears it - the low rumble of possession, the kind that goes straight to his heart and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Ray grins into the kiss. He can't help it.
"I know you would," and he means it - he knows that Rip would do anything at all for him, especially now. Especially now. It's a weird feeling, this joy and elation at having his mate back but also aware of the reality of it all - the very real fact that Rip won't get his family back, and they both know it, and that's what makes this okay again.
Ray points as he sits down, scooting his chair uncomfortably closer to Rip in a way that is just as eager as he's always been - like it's the first time and not the millionth, Captain Hunter still gives him butterflies. "The milkshake? I made it with real strawberries. Or my notebook? I was working on some stuff but I figured, you know - if you're working, and I'm working, why can't I just sit around and work in here, right?"
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Nobody really minds, though. Sara raises her eyebrows at Rip, her grin knowing and so, so fucking smug, and Kendra is just happy that Ray's happy again, though she misses being needed (she wonders sometimes if it makes her selfish, wanting Ray for herself because he's soft and kind and reminds her of Carter.) Len wishes Ray wasn't so gleeful, because it'sĀ a very tiring thing, but he just rolls his eyes and tips his head the other way to ignore him.
Thump.
Raymond bops the doorframe of Rip's office with the toe of his shoe, because he's about three seconds from dropping everything everywhere. He's brought dinner, and juice, and a milkshake that's too fucking big but has two straws in it like it's a date at a sofa shop in 19-fucking-50, and under his arm against his ribs is a notebook. He has a pen sideways in his mouth and his glasses are crooked.
"Help please," he says, muffled.
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The food is deposited on his table, the milkshake and juice kept away from the maps Rip's been charting a course on. He helps Ray with everything else, too, and pulls one of the chairs up for him to sit on.
"You could have told me you needed me in the kitchen," he sighs, but all the same there is the slightest little tug of a smile on his mouth as he goes to roll the maps up and slide them back into their cases. "I didn't realise it was time for dinner already."
no subject
So Ray spends time puttering around in the kitchen in his stupid little apron, and he knows he could use the fabricator, but there's something about the love that he puts into the food that he makes. It's hard to really define - but it's there.
He leans in to catch a kiss, hand finding a place on the small of Rip's back. He touches all the time. Constantly. It's all very intimate but very safe, is the thing - it's all just checking in with him, maintaining a level of physical closeness even if they're at other ends of the ship. "But I thought I'd let you work until it was time to eat. I know how you are." Does he ever.
no subject
"You don't know how I am specifically," he says, which is a weak argument until he's catching Ray's pretty brown eyes with his own. "I'd stop working for you, love. You're about the only distraction that works." And chances are that's what Ray means, that he doesn't want to get in the way, but Rip doesn't see Ray coming to visit during a less-heated planning session as a bad thing.
"Mm." Rip cups Ray's cheek to give him one more kiss. "Thank you, though. Come on" -- when he pulls away, it's to pull a chair over for Ray to sit in, and a less comfortable one for his own -- "down with you. No need to stand."
Rip sits right at Ray's side. "What's this you brought with the food?"
no subject
"I know you would," and he means it - he knows that Rip would do anything at all for him, especially now. Especially now. It's a weird feeling, this joy and elation at having his mate back but also aware of the reality of it all - the very real fact that Rip won't get his family back, and they both know it, and that's what makes this okay again.
Ray points as he sits down, scooting his chair uncomfortably closer to Rip in a way that is just as eager as he's always been - like it's the first time and not the millionth, Captain Hunter still gives him butterflies. "The milkshake? I made it with real strawberries. Or my notebook? I was working on some stuff but I figured, you know - if you're working, and I'm working, why can't I just sit around and work in here, right?"