Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

The difference between this time and the last times left Morgan breathless. He'd told Emryc how he felt and the other man responded with every muscle on his body. They were focused on each other, unhurried and entangled in their dance. He'd barely noticed when they'd changed rooms until his legs had hit the bed.

His nose was filled with the scent of him, fresh iron and cologne and sweat- vaguely nostalgic somehow, but he didn't dwell on it long- and he found himself staring into a pair of silver eyes that far and above more expressive than they'd been over the past week. Morgan studied every motion, leaving new bruises, scratches, or kisses behind when he spotted something new. He drank it all in and basked in the flame, thoughts burned away in the heat, overtaken by-

A sudden and violent desire to destroy the merest concept of linear time. The alarm signaling they were nearing a return to realspace sounded, ringing through the air, and Morgan inadvertently let out a short, barking whine of frustration. His feelings on the matter were tempered when Emryc smiled and started laughing, his hand running through the man's hair affectionately when he expressed his own irritation into Morgan's neck. He didn't have the energy to be angry, which was probably for the best. The ship didn't need more dents in the plating or broken furniture.

Once they were free of each other he leapt from the bed and snatched a pair of pants from the top of his crate to pull on. So garbed he ran to the cockpit on Emryc's heels, sliding into the co-pilot's seat and managing to strap himself in just as the transition began. Better than hitting a wall again.

He looked over at Emryc, blinked, looked down at himself. Morgan suddenly started laughing, then leaned forward in his seat toward Emryc. He dragged his tongue across a new bruise on his shoulder, tasting the salty skin.

"You're in my pants, you know," he purred behind Emryc's ear before retreating again, a look of impish amusement on his face. Then he ran his fingers across a few of his controls, finishing the transition and rerouting power for atmospheric entry and flight. He sent the coordinates for the correct landing area, different from the last time and closer to where Emryc's ship had been left. Morgan whistled a series of four quick and precise notes that seemed to quickly summon Dante from out of his idle state, floating hastily into the cockpit and plugging into a console port.

After several seconds, Dante let out an affirmatory trill and Morgan visibly relaxed a little.

"Your ship is still where we left it."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc glared at the planet in front of him as he began to guide the ship down. He heard Morgan lean over, the brush of his tongue against skin sending a jolt through him. Emryc’s gaze remained forward, eyes still narrowed as he grumbled while shifting uncomfortably, “Don’t make these pants tighter than they already are,” He wasn’t as slender as the firrerreo and other matters weren’t exactly helping.

The thought of seeing his ship again caused his expression to soften. His eyes lit up and he looked at Morgan, thinking of how he quickly had the droid check for his ship. It briefly reminded him of when he frantically searched for Morgan’s hallikset. There was a knowing smile on his face when he looked at Morgan before he turned to look forward again. Not a word was said on the topic.

It didn’t take long before he finally pulled into the spaceport. His own ship wasn’t in this docking bay and they would have to walk a bit to get to it. Emryc stared at nothing for a moment before he looked over and grabbed Morgan by the hand. He was far too stubborn and annoyed at the interruption to let that sit. He led the man directly into the shower so they could both finish what they began and also come out cleaned up and ready to go. Emryc was all about efficiency from his soldier habits, after all.

A while later, Emryc stood next to Morgan in the refresher in front of the mirror, gelling his hair and making sure every strand was in place, “Before we head back I’d like to get a meal,” He said while reaching over to put his chrono on, “Since…. We are likely both hungry,” That awkward wording was seeping in again. He struggled to explain that he wanted to prolong his time with Morgan.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan just smiled back at Emryc, not feeling the need to say anything further. The look on the other man's face said enough for him. He stood after the ship touched down, momentarily distracted by the different cut and length of the pants he wearing, before Emryc pulled him by the hand and back into the refresher, laughing all the while. It felt like he'd read Morgan's mind, and the trilling sound quickly transitioned into purring growls as the door shut behind them.

After they were clean again he went through the usual preening, though an abridged routine on account of having already done it a few hours earlier. Hair put into place with a tiny amount of light oil, the scent of various herbs, mint, and citrus fruits joining the steam. He checked his nails, glanced over at Emryc's back and sides, and then decided to give them a quick once-over with a fine grit durasteel file.

Morgan looked over to the other man again when he spoke, face blank for a few moments before his lips pulled into a small smile. "That's a good idea, I haven't eaten yet," he said affectionately, putting down the file and reaching over to delicately lift up Emryc's injured hand and examine it after the shower. Wordlessly he picked up a new set of bacta bandages and began to wrap his knuckles back anew, his own cuts having reduced themselves to streaks of silver skin. They'd fade in a few days on their own.

"Do you mind if I pick?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc looked over when Morgan slowly grasped his hand to redo the bandages. He hadn’t noticed that he had been using the hand as normal and it bled through again. Emryc watched in silence as Morgan worked, finding the gesture to be strange and yet invoking a warmth in him that he didn’t understand. His eyes flicked over to Morgan’s own wounds. He hadn’t gotten around to asking about them - a lot of other things preoccupied them both.

He visibly relaxed when Morgan agreed about eating. Emryc didn’t even know he had been tense about such a simple suggestion. He drew his hand back when Morgan released it, glancing at him when he asked if he could pick, “Yes please pick,” He blurted out quickly before clearing his throat, “No, I don’t mind,” He corrected. He blinked for a moment before wordlessly leaving the refresher.

Emryc gathered up his bag, only one needed to pack all his things. Between the bags and the speeder bike they jacked, he decided to drop everything off at his ship before they went to eat. The journey was quick, and it left them free of lugging things around. After it was done, he glanced over to Morgan.

“Where to?”

Morgan would have noticed that whenever Emryc walked with him now, it was more akin to a bodyguard accompanying him instead of the more casual demeanor he had before. Now that they were in public, Emryc once again struggled to separate Morgan from Drast.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan had the good grace not to start laughing, though his face did light up with joy at Emryc's response and self correction. His apparent willingness to be somewhat uncomfortable about the whole thing brought left Morgan watching him walk away for a moment, purring softly to himself. He left the refresher, stopped briefly by the cargo hold, and then returned to the captain's room to pack his crate of things.

Emryc's idea to drop off their things was a good one, and it also gave Morgan the opportunity to shamelessly cling to him from the back of the speeder. With dignity, of course. It was entirely normal to wrap one's arms around the driver of a speeder bike to stay on, although the Firrerreo was a perhaps a little closer to his back than entirely necessary during the trip.

Dante carried the crate into the ship while Morgan's eyes swept across the outside of it, sharp and piercing as if he was searching for something in particular. It seemed he hadn't found a problem since he relaxed after a few seconds and turned back to Emryc. Since they were dressed as affluent civilians out of necessity, he had an idea as to where to go.

"It's not far from here. We passed it the first time," he answered, leaving the hangar behind to return to the streets of Terminus. Out of habit his senses paid attention mostly to the surrounding pedestrians and shops, the passing security officers and speeders flying through the air above. It was still in the middle of Life Day celebrations, though near the end of the season, and the two Sith weren't the only ones paired up today.

His eyes caught sight of the whiskey bar they'd stopped at after they'd first landed on the planet and a smile crossed his face- which turned into a soft pout as he then noticed what Emryc was doing. He was walking stiffly and professionally, a step behind and alert for danger.

Morgan stepped closer to Emryc and gently curled his fingers around his upper arm, closing the distance between the two. He hummed a song quietly as they walked, not saying anything for some time. After a little longer he pulled him away from the walkway and toward a store. The window displays held a variety of suits in different cuts and colours.

"I think you'd look good in a suit."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc walked stiffly, his demeanor especially stoic and rigid as he played his role of security. The Drast detail wouldn’t slip from his mind so easily. He didn’t look around except to glare menacingly at anyone that came too close to Morgan. His face served as a great deterrent when needed, regardless of how appealing people found it most of the time.

He was caught off guard when Morgan suddenly closed the distance between them, his hand delicately curling around his arm. Emryc turned to blink at him quizzically, mentally conflicted on how to adapt to this development. His devotion to his gods and Drast clashed against the comfortable simplicity he had developed with Morgan. The firrerreo began to hum, and as always that made Emryc visibly relax. Instead of awkwardly shuffling along, he adapted to walking with Morgan holding onto him. It was a strange feeling, but he decided he liked it.

Emryc’s eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion as he paused when Morgan tugged him in a different direction. Usually very rigid and purposely set in his path, he was thrown off by the deviation. In the end, he said nothing, letting the other man tug him along towards a store. His gaze flicked back to the path they were on, still unsure about detracting from the ‘mission’.

He glanced over when Morgan pointed out the suited mannequins in the windows. Emryc eyed the fancy suits, most of them worth far more than he could afford. He was silent for a moment.

“I don’t get too many missions that call for them…” He muttered quietly, more to himself. Emryc despised thinking about not being able to afford too much on his own. He glanced over to the way Morgan stared at the suits and then spoke again, “Which one do you like?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was pleased with the new pace, evident in the soft squeeze of his fingers on Emryc's arm and small smile back on his face. He regarded the displayed suits carefully for a few seconds after Emryc asked his question, gaze flicking from one to the next, and found a particular piece. It was an important question, so it took a moment.

"That one," he replied, pointing toward a subtly pinstriped burgundy set, powerful and businesslike. The kind of thing a professional with a sense of fashion wore. "And, that one," Then he pointed toward another in a different window, a suit checked in light and dark blues that seemed to draw his smile a little wider. He imagined it would go well paired with silver eyes. Morgan rarely got to wear proper suits either since the nature of his work was more often covert rather than infiltration.

Morgan turned to look at Emryc again. He observed his face for a moment before leaning and speaking into his ear.

"I think you look good without one, too," he purred, then began to move them away, having suddenly remembered how much he had not eaten that day. The other smells of food floating through the streets were going to make him a little grumpy if he kept getting himself distracted.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc followed Morgan’s gaze as he pointed each suit out, but his eyes lingered on the blues. He watched the way Morgan smiled when he pointed them out. His gaze didn’t shift even when Morgan turned to him and purred his words. Emryc was fixated on that smile and the way his eyes lit up.

He gazed directly at the blue suit. He thought about the kinds of missions that required them. He decided that he would seek out those specific missions. No, he would make it his job to wear them. He had often seen diplomats wear them, and he had only been on one diplomatic mission thus far. He decided he wanted to see Morgan light up like that more often. And he filed that thought away, deciding that Morgan would certainly see him in that very suit. And he would see him on a kriffing Holo. All of these things were decided without a word uttered aloud, with him simply staring blankly at the mannequin.

After a moment, Emryc felt Morgan tug him. He walked with the Firrerreo, but not before he cast another glance at the display, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The smells of food hit him at once, and his focus shifted back to the present. Emryc relaxed more now, looking around to take in all the restaurants they passed. He couldn’t deny that he was starving by now, his mind drifting to thoughts of a nice plate of bland, steamed vegetables.

He glanced over at Morgan and it almost looked as if his pupils had constricted and he appeared as if he were about to bite someone. The changes were entirely too subtle for anyone else to notice. Emryc blinked at him, snaking his arm in to wrap around his waist to tug him closer and away from the passing public, “Is this place nearby?” He asked as politely as he could, genuinely wondering if Morgan would snap from starving and being assailed by smells of food everywhere.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

If the Firrerreon was one that could casually read minds, Emryc might've been subject to a very happy Morgan and probably no small amount of public affection. But even if he could, the young Sith was otherwise distracted, thoughts wandering a little bit as they walked, the slight tenseness and constricted pupils the only real outward sign. Luckily, someone had seen those same signs before.

Morgan was pulled from his thoughts and closer to Emryc, the gesture reciprocated by a tighter grip on the other man. The warmth was comfortable and, more importantly right now, distracting.

"Over there," he said and lead them to a tastefully darkened shop front, the glass windows displaying mock ups of various dishes. Through a wooden door and they'd see the inside of a restaurant that seemed to combine ideas into a sort of high class cafe. Tables were set up at a respectful distance from others and it was only about half filled with people. The two of them were quickly seated, off in a corner with sunlight filtering in through a shaded window.

Looking around revealed a distinct lack of bland, steamed vegetables. Stewed and pan-fried examples in season, fruits poached in syrups and sauces, grilled and baked meats well seasoned in any number of mixes, and artisan cocktails, whiskeys, and wines were the staples. Their host lay a pair of menus down and Morgan rattled off the name of a brandy when asked about a drink and an appetizer named in some obscure trade language before he turned back to looking at Emryc. He smiled that smile that was just for him.

"I usually come here. I'm glad it's with you this time."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

To say that Emryc was out of his element was a gross understatement. His face betrayed little, but his eyes couldn’t hide how out of place he was. Emryc looked at the menus, not quite following them. There were words like reduction, roux, emulsion and others that made this sound like a science class rather than a restaurant. He was still staring intently at the menu when Morgan rattled off some things that he barely understood.

To make matters worse, the prices weren’t displayed, so he had an internal panic on being able to afford any of this. He kept his visage calm, spotting a nice gin that he ordered. Emryc thought he spotted a few interesting vegetarian options, but they appeared to be complicated. For now, he said nothing and decided to see what appetizers would arrive.

Emryc prided himself in enjoying the finer things in life when he could, but it had always been limited opportunities. He usually worked off a Sith allowance and seldom strayed too far from what his missions entailed. Emryc looked around at the other customers, noticing their very expensive attire.

He looked back when Morgan spoke again. That smile always invoked a warmth in him now, even if externally his expression didn’t change too much. However, the words caused Emryc to stare for a few seconds.

“Who do you usually come here with?” He asked before he could stop himself. Emryc instantly kicked himself for asking it. How dare he question a Drast and his intentions? He averted his gaze, scowling at nothing for overstepping boundaries, “Never mind, you don’t owe me any answer.”

Emryc looked at him again before glancing down at the menu. He tried to relax a bit, offering a faint smile, “So, what do you recommend for me?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was generally accustomed to watching people's eyes. It was a vital part of the games he played as well as, to some degree, his work. He was especially used to watching Emryc's. He liked to look at them whenever he could, both because he enjoyed them in and of themselves and because they said things he didn't voice out loud.

Morgan's booted foot placed itself next to Emryc's beneath the table, right up against it. He didn't say or do anything further than that.

He blinked in response to Emryc's question. He had been about to answer before the other man scowled and turned away, dismissing his own question. Morgan's head tilted a little to the left to take in the expression, thinking for a moment it was an odd thing to say. He put some things together in his head and the result was a gentle frown, brows furrowed and lips pulled slightly down, which was the expression that met Emryc's smile when he looked up to ask for recommendations.

"I do not, this is so," he said conversationally. It was true, he owed Emryc no answers. That didn't mean he wouldn't give them, though. He paused, blinked, looked at Emryc. The frown melted away like wax before a flame, becoming something blank, then pensive as he considered something. Emryc had said they should get food together, and they were now here at a nice cafe, that Morgan never brought anyone to. Together. At a table. Getting food.

His eyes glanced at the menu and then he turned to stare over through the window, face brightened by a warm smile.

"I have always come alone," he finished after a couple seconds, eyes not returning to look at Emryc other than a quick glance after he spoke. He felt a heat creep up along his neck and into his cheeks, and he settled for watching Emryc's reflection in the window.

It was less embarrassing that way.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc saw the shifts in expression on Morgan’s face after his questions. The normally vocal man appeared to be lost in thought briefly and Emryc silently observed him. He noticed that Morgan looked away when he admitted he ate here alone before. Emryc saw Morgan’s skin flush slightly, and he had a feeling the man wasn’t doing that on purpose.

By then, their drinks had arrived, along with the appetizers. Emryc eyed the food suspiciously, and he simply pointed to something that looked vegetarian when asked to order his main course. Eating food at a restaurant was the easiest thing to him, and yet he felt completely ill equipped for it right now. He had wined and dined people multiple times before as part of his missions, and it had always come so easy.

Emryc sipped from the gin, lightly holding the glass in his hand. It tasted smoother than anything he had before. He glanced over at Morgan, recalling their whiskey drinking game, “I think this is worth two questions, if you feel like asking,” He said with a grin as he gestured with the glass.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan kept up his window-watching until the drinks and things arrived. He almost entirely missed the look Emryc gave the plate of food. In his defense it amounted to small bits of toasted bread topped with a kind of airy foamed paste and a sprinkling of herbs. With no hesitation the young Sith picked one up and popped it in his mouth, crunching through it and humming softly to himself. Food is good.

He ordered something distinctly not vegetarian for himself involving some kind of poultry meat and sipped at his brandy, slightly pushing the plate of extra-fancy snacks toward the other man. It was, essentially, a liver-based topping also containing egg from the same species along with a cream. Rich and relatively healthy, even.

Morgan sipped at his brandy as if it were wine, delicate fingers raising and lowering the glass without a sound. He always handled things almost entirely with his fingers. Excepting Emryc and necks, so far.

The Firrerreon's smile slowly shifted into a fang-toothed grin, golds meeting silvers again and sparkling with energy and mischief behind them. Emryc wanted to play a game? Morgan considered him a moment, thinking again back to the last time they'd played this game. His mental wanderings brought the smile back, brighter than before as he leaned forward a little.

"Give me answers to two questions you wish I would ask."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched Morgan eat one of the appetizers and it didn’t look too terrible. He glanced down for a few seconds before reaching for one and popping it into his mouth. To his surprise, it was an explosion of flavors that he hadn’t expected. He briefly wondered how so many flavors could be packed in at once. It was nothing like the foods he was used to. The hint of surprise was clear in his eyes as he reached for another.

He caught Morgan’s grin to his comment and realized the reason immediately. Emryc stared at him blankly for a moment before a smile graced his face. He couldn’t help but shake his head, recalling his own insufferable game. It certainly gave him pause to have to think of two such answers. Thankfully, it was up to Morgan to speculate on what the questions would be.

Emryc took a sip from his gin, gazing at Morgan for a bit. His eyes betrayed nothing then, and his face was briefly back to impassive. He appeared to be studying the firrerreo for a few seconds before he finally spoke, “For as long as you wish,” He said before pausing for a moment as he thought of the other question till he chuckled quietly. It turned into a bit of a laugh, “Nal Hutta stadium, Galaxy Cup, front row seats,” Emryc all but burst out laughing, unable to keep the straight face.

It took a few attempts at clearing his throat to settle down again, though a grin remained on his face. Emryc took a sip from his gin, a glint in his eye as he gave the floor back to Morgan.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Emryc's little chuckle brought out a gentle humming from Morgan, pleased with the sound. He leaned back leisurely in his chair, drinking in for what felt like the hundredth time the fine features of Emryc's face. Only a week prior it had been rare just to see a departure from stoic professionalism, and now he looked forward to every smile Morgan brought out of him. He found he could remember every moment clearly, as he could many things in the impassive way he usually did, but with much more clarity and emotional colour.

Morgan looked at Emryc then the same way he did when he'd told him how he felt about him, mostly in the eyes. They burned intensely beneath the surface and met directly with the other pair across the table. He settled on the questions and took another sip of brandy.

"How long will you stay at my side?" he asked rhetorically, guessing it was something Emryc wasn't exactly likely to bring up himself. He took another drink of his brandy, more than a sip this time, before getting to the second question. Thinking about it brought the heat back to his face but he didn't look away this time, keeping his gaze firmly on the object of his affection.


"And, where would you like most to be taken for a date?"

It was embarrassing, but it was worth it.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc took another sip of gin when Morgan began to speak, guessing the questions aloud. He had expected him to change to a different game, but he voiced the questions instead. The first question invoked a smile, but the second caused his eyes to widen. He stood there in stunned silence for a moment, feeling a bit flustered at the firm vocalization of that word. He had been intimate with Morgan several times, they had shared countless moments with one another, and yet that simple suggestion gave him pause. He watched Morgan’s face flush, but the firrerreo didn’t look away or pretend to find the window interesting.

Emryc stared back at him, and he thought briefly back to his military and mission training. He thought about targets and being methodical and direct in pursuing them. He thought about tactical steps and strategic initiatives. Everything had a common denominator. Everything required actionable things that had to be identified and conveyed. There was no margin for second guessing or questioning. In those situations he always found what he sought. In those situations he always knew.

“I want to take you on them,” He said after a moment, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Morgan’s, “And I want to see your skin flush when you can’t help it. I want to see your eyes light up like they did outside that suit shop. I want to see your smiles and hear your laughs. I want to do stupid and silly things with you that they do on Holomovies that you can’t pay me to actually watch,” That same confidence that came into his voice when he was on missions slowly seeped in, and for once it was for something he wasn’t pretending for, “I don’t understand what this is because..because these are things that were intended to be erased from me long ago... but I will try to work through them because... you make me want to be a better man than who I am today. I want to work through them..for you, Morgan Ali…” He hesitated for a moment but kept going, “Morgan Ali...Drast.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Emryc looked surprised, and Morgan looked pleased as a result, if still flushed with embarrassment. His golden eyes looked into silver, challenging and affectionate in equal measure. They watched his expression shift in the tiny ways it did, the little movements of the eyes and muscles. Emryc seemed stunned into silence by the question.

I win, soldier boy.

Then he spoke and, again, Emryc completely flipped the table. Eye to eye he corrected Morgan's question, turning it around on him. He told him exactly what he wanted, exactly what he saw, exactly what he felt about him. It was there in the way he noticed every moment that Morgan was happy, and it was there in the way he voiced the things he didn't quite understand but had clearly been considering. It was there, most certainly of all, in the way he treasured Morgan enough to say it.

Every word seemed to bring more heat into Morgan's face and neck, but he didn't look away while Emryc spoke. He sat up straighter in his seat, taking it all in as his eyes burned brighter and brighter. He'd known Emryc cared, he'd said as much in the subtle ways he did, but the words out loud, for some reason, just meant so much more. They had weight and meaning that was all the greater coming from him. He wanted to understand what he didn't and experience these things with Morgan-

He froze, at the end, the very last thing the man with silver eyes had said. Morgan turned away from the intensity in those eyes, lips pulling into a wide smile and a hand coming up to half cover his face. What could be seen of his eyes glittered with the hint of tears and shades of gold intermixed with silver across his skin wherever the heat from Emryc's words touched. He laughed, a musical sound that sang of joy, though he somewhat managed to stifle it behind his palm. Those few little words together meant so much more to Morgan than he had any idea how to voice, and they came from the man he wanted most to say them.

Emryc said his name, acknowledged who and what he was in his entirety. In that moment, it felt like the Drast was floating.

But so did you.

It took a few seconds before Morgan was able to actually say anything, and even then only in a whisper as he turned to look at Emryc around his hand, keeping it between his face and the other tables. His eyes glanced up from where they'd been looking into space, and he hoped they spoke so much louder than his voice.

"I really do love you, Emryc Thorne."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched Morgan completely melt and he simply blinked in surprise. Had he done that with just….words? He stared with fascination as Morgan flushed different shades, hid his face and smiled. And then there was that breezy laugh again, the one that he wanted to hear over and over again. Emryc didn’t even realize he had a sheepish grin on his face.

His mind was reeling as he thought about what just happened, what he had just been able to do at all. Emryc never knew he was capable of putting words to things like that, but he only needed to realize how very simple this was. He knew what he wanted to see from Morgan and he knew what he wanted from himself. There was a blatant simplicity to it that he forced into his own medium of understanding. He was beginning to find his own way to communicate his thoughts.

He didn’t stop looking at Morgan, leaning back slightly in his seat as he lazily held the gin glass. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked at the man, an almost teasing grin still on his face. The silver eyes were completely thawed. There was a sense of elation from seeing Morgan’s reaction that he couldn’t explain. It made his heart beat faster like it did before he was about to rush into a deadly combat mission and it was that similar sense of rush.

When Morgan uttered those words again, Emryc continued to stare. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were warmer than ever. He could only hope that the firrerreo and his obnoxious senses couldn’t pick up the pounding of his heart against his chest.

“Sir are you all right?”

The most grating and high pitched voice cut in as their waitress came over with their orders. Emryc’s eyes flickered to her, the silvers turning into pure icy daggers that would have reduced her to tears. Hairline cracks snaked through the rim of his glass. Unfortunately, she was looking wide-eyed at the color changing firrerreo that had tears brimming his eyes.

She set the food down and glared at Emryc in an accusatory sort of way, completely misreading the whole situation. Emryc’s default face did him a whopping zero favors.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Melting was probably the most apt word to describe what Morgan felt like he was doing just then. He was staring into the other man's eyes, lost in the abundance of warmth and affection behind them. It seemed to the young Drast that his skin might actually catch flame, and he was suddenly aware his other hand had been gripping the thankfully quite durable leg of the table with alarming force. He couldn't hear Emryc's heart through the drumbeat of his own pounding in his ears.

Embarrassment notwithstanding, the fact they were in public was probably the only thing keeping him off of Emryc, a sentiment reflected in the way his smile shifted more toward a grin and his eyes shone with something just a little stronger. He wanted to see those same eyes in an entirely different lighting than the bright cafe in that moment.

In fact it was while considering the pros and cons of grabbing Emryc and pulling him into a fiery kiss across the table when the waitress showed up. Morgan could not remember a time when he was so disappointed for food to arrive while he was hungry. He turned to say something to make the waitress go away faster and paused, noticing the look on her face. Then the look on Emryc's face and the little cracks in his glass. This particular waitress knew him and had served him many times before, so he figured he'd be a little nice while he tried not to die laughing inside.


"I'm fine, Sheila," he got out cheerily, waving as she wandered off with a concerned look behind her toward Emryc. The other man's face brought out the laughter again, the whole scene like something out of a cheesy rom-com. Morgan looked down at the plates of good. Emryc's was essentially a number of sliced vegetables stewed and sauced, a collection of many colours of varieties, and then arranged in an aesthetically pleasing spiral shape.

Morgan gathered up his silverware and took a piece of the meat off his plate, chewing it with a level of grace that was, in truth, quite difficult to maintain at that moment. It was delicious and rich, yes, and he'd been hungry for hours. But the young Drast knew himself well. Food distracted him only for the moment.

"Emryc," he started quietly and a little strained, taking another bite of food and a drink of brandy. "I'm glad we came here, and I would happily be taken on more dates with you. But," Every movement as he ate was mostly smooth, but slightly tense, as if he was trying very hard not to put too much force behind it. Golden eyes rose from the table to look across into silver, the veneer of casual civility marred by a look that burned like a pair of gilded stars, all intensity, passion, and fire. All for Emryc.

"If we don't get back to your ship soon, there will be an incident."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was in a grumpy mood even as the waitress walked away and Morgan was laughing again. He didn’t even look at the other man, eyes searing into the waitress as he contemplated several different scenarios that included a slow death for her. He finally focused his attention down at his food, suddenly even more irritated at why it looked less like food and more like an art project.

Why was there a flower on his plate?

Emryc flicked the flower away and grabbed the silverware to begin eating. Fortunately, despite the strange appearance, the meal was actually delicious. He glanced up to tell Morgan as much when he caught the way he was looking at him. Emryc blinked for a moment, seeing that intense gaze and knowing fully where his mind was. He stared vacantly after Morgan finished declaring that there would be an incident.

“Morgan…” He began, but gave up instead. He’d have better luck talking down an entire room of Senators that despised him.

What followed was Emryc quickly shoveling down his food. He didn’t even bother asking for the bill and instead confidently handed the waitress his card to cover it. He knew that whatever the amount was would clean him out. He knew he would be stuck on the station for weeks on end and do menial jobs to earn enough credits to even get off the base. Then he would have to work several weeks of overtime shifts with driving clients, DJing and doing spice runs.

And yet it didn’t faze him a single bit and he would never let Morgan know it.

He grabbed the card when it came back and rose to stand, shaking his head with a smile as he looked at Morgan. He grabbed his drink and threw it back to finish it before waiting for Morgan to join him. He hadn’t even realized that he stood there simply because he wanted the man to hold his arm like he did before.

It didn’t take them long to make their way back. Emryc decided he wouldn’t let Morgan live this down - not when he missed out on strangely named desserts he didn’t get to try. A part of him was morbidly curious about this ‘incident’ that may happen and letting it play out, but most of him was worried it would land them as the breaking news on Holonet.

Before they knew it, they were walking up the ramp of his ship. The door closed behind them and Emryc turned to look at Morgan. He couldn’t help but smile, which again broke into a small chuckle.

“So is it safe to have this incident now?”

@Mr. Teatime