Page 74 of Reluctantly Abducted
"Another Earth breakfast specialty?" he asks with genuine interest.
"They're like pancakes but with pockets for holding all the good stuff," I explain, watching as the synthesizer produces the components I need. "Trust me, you'll love them."
I gather the synthesized ingredients—flour, eggs, milk, and fruits similar to Earth berries but with more vibrant colors—and begin mixing the batter with practiced ease. Ry moves to the second synthesizer unit without being asked, already programming it to make hot chocolate for both of us. I smile at how he remembers exactly how I like it—slightly darker and less sweet than his own. It's these small gestures that make my chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the heated kitchen.
"The variations in texture create an interesting sensory experience," Ry observes, his eyes bright with interest as he watches the cooking process.
"Exactly," I agree, accepting the mug of hot chocolate he hands me. "And then you add toppings for even more contrast—sweet, tart, creamy."
When the waffles are done, golden-brown and perfectly crisp, I plate them with a flourish. I add the synthesized fruits—similar to strawberries and blueberries but with a more vibrant color—then whipped cream I programmed the synthesizer to create, and finally a drizzle of chocolate syrup that Ry helps me produce.
"This seems... excessive," Ry comments, looking at the towering creation.
"That's kind of the point," I tell him with a grin. "Sometimes excess is exactly what you need."
We take our plates to the small dining area, sitting close enough that our shoulders touch. Ry examines his waffle with the same focused attention he gives to scientific specimens, carefully cutting a small piece that includes all the components.
The moment the food touches his tongue, his eyes widen, and a wave of bioluminescence pulses beneath his skin so brightly it's almost white at the center.
"Good?" I ask, already knowing the answer from his reaction.
"These flavors together are... remarkable," he says once he's swallowed. "The warm waffle with the cool cream, the sweetness of the chocolate against the tartness of the fruit..." He takes another bite, abandoning his analysis in favor of simply enjoying the experience.
I dig into my own breakfast, but I find I'm getting almost as much pleasure from watching Ry eat as from the food itself. He approaches each bite with such thoughtful appreciation, his bioluminescence pulsing with each new flavor combination he discovers.
At one point, a small dot of whipped cream catches at the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss it away, tasting the sweetness on his lips. He responds immediately, turning to meet me properly, his mouth warm and sweet against mine.
What begins as a simple kiss quickly deepens, his hand coming up to cup my face as mine finds his waist. I can taste chocolate and fruit and something uniquely Ry beneath it all. When we finally break apart, his bioluminescence is pulsing rapidly, matching the quickened pace of my own heartbeat.
"I find waffles significantly more appealing than I anticipated," he says, his voice slightly rougher than usual.
I laugh, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. "Wait until you try French toast."
We return to our breakfast, exchanging occasional kisses between bites, the meal stretching out far longer than necessary. I've never seen Ry so relaxed, so present in the moment without rushing to the next task or analyzing the current one to death.
We're just finishing up when a sharp tone sounds from the communication panel on the wall. Ry freezes mid-bite, a look of alarm crossing his features. His bioluminescence, which had been glowing steadily with contentment, suddenly flickers with agitation.
"It's the Council," he says, setting down his fork. "That's Kav'eth's priority channel."
I watch as Ry's entire demeanor shifts, tension replacing the relaxed openness of moments before. He glances down at his bare chest, then up at the communication panel, genuine distress flashing across his face.
And that's when I feel it—a flutter of anxiety in my chest that doesn't feel like my own. A rising panic, a concern about propriety and protocol that I've never cared about in my life.
"I need to put on a shirt," Ry says, already starting to rise. "For a Council call, I should—"
"Ry," I interrupt, placing my hand over his. "I can feel it."
He stops, looking at me in confusion. "Feel what?"
"Your panic," I say, squeezing his hand. "Your worry about answering the call half-dressed. I can feel it... it's like it's in my chest, but it's not mine. We're actually bonding this time."
His eyes widen as he processes my words. "It's actually happening," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "The bond is forming? After what happened last time, I hardly dared hope—"
"Well, it's happening," I cut in. "Unless I suddenly developed a fear of video calls with your brother that I didn't have before."
Ry stares at me, his scientific mind visibly racing to catch up with what I'm telling him. "You can genuinely sense my emotional state?"
"Yes," I confirm. "And it's telling me you're freaking out about taking a call without a shirt on."
