"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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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?"