Page 48 of Technically Abducted
When we break apart, I settle against his side, his arm coming around me naturally. The empathic connection hums gently between us, carrying contentment and warmth.
Chapter Fourteen
Tev'ra
After our conversation with my creator-parents, the atmosphere in my quarters feels different—warmer, more settled. Finn remains curled against my side on the seating platform, but I can sense his mind working through what just happened, processing the experience of being welcomed and cared for by people who have no obligation to him.
The empathic connection carries echoes of his wonder, his gratitude, and underneath it all, a vulnerability that makes me want to hold him closer.
"I should prepare thevel'thani," I say eventually, though I'm reluctant to break this peaceful moment. "Creator-parent Vel'tha's instructions arrived while we were speaking with them."
Finn lifts his head to look at me, and there's something soft in his expression that makes my chest tight. "You don't have to. I mean, it was nice of them to send the recipe, but—"
"I want to," I interrupt, surprised by how true that statement is. "I want to create something specifically for your enjoyment. Not because protocol requires it, not because assessment parameters suggest it, but because I want to see your expression when you taste something made with care that they suggested."
The simple honesty of the statement seems to catch us both off guard. Finn's eyes search my face for a moment, then he smiles—one of those genuine expressions that transforms his entire appearance.
"In that case," he says, sitting up, "can I help?"
The offer surprises me. "You wish to participate in food preparation?"
"I like cooking with you," he says simply, standing and stretching. "It's… nice."
Nice. Such an inadequate word for the way his proximity affects my nervous system, the way his casual acceptance of domestic activities makes something warm settle in my chest. But I understand what he means—there's something profoundly satisfying about creating sustenance together, about sharing the rhythms of preparation and care.
I move toward the food preparation area, reviewing Creator-parent Vel'tha's detailed instructions along with their extensive notes about human nutritional preferences and suggested modifications for interspecies compatibility.
"The herb blend requires precise timing," I explain, indicating the various components as the synthesis unit produces them. "But the texture preparation could benefit from human techniques."
What follows is an hour of collaboration. Finn proves surprisingly skilled at adapting human food preparation methods to Nereidan ingredients, while I handle the more technical aspects that require precise temperature and timing control. We work in comfortable synchronization, occasionally bumping shoulders or reaching around each other in ways that send pleasant currents through our empathic connection.
"This is really good," Finn says, tasting the partially completed preparation. "Complex. Like… comfort food, but sophisticated."
"Creator-parent Vel'tha specializes in nutritional satisfaction on multiple levels," I explain. "Physical sustenance, sensory pleasure, emotional comfort."
"Smart. Food that makes you feel good instead of just keeping you alive. That's how it should always be." Finn leans against the counter, studying me. "You're different when you cook."
"Different how?"
"Less formal. More… yourself, I guess." He pauses. "I like seeing you like this."
The simple statement creates warmth that has nothing to do with the thermal preparation elements. "I find these activities more satisfying than anticipated."
"The cooking?"
"The sharing," I correct, meeting his eyes. "I've never prepared food for someone else's pleasure before meeting you. It's… gratifying in ways I didn't expect."
Something shifts in Finn's expression, and he steps closer. "I've never had anyone cook for me before. Not really. Not like this."
The empathic connection flares gently between us, carrying his wonder at being cared for, my satisfaction at providing that care. For a moment we just look at each other, surrounded by the warm aromas ofvel'thaniand the comfortable domesticity we've created.
"We should finish the preparation," I say finally, though I make no move to step away.
"Yeah," Finn agrees, but he doesn't move either.
Eventually we return to our collaborative cooking, but something has shifted between us. The touches become more deliberate, the glances more lingering. By the time we finish thevel'thani, the air between us feels charged with more than just pleasant domestic comfort.
"Perfect timing," I say as the preparation reaches completion. "Creator-parent Vel'tha would be pleased."
