York smiles warmly, nodding against Ratchet's hands. "I'm glad too. Took you long enough."
He's teasing, of course, but there's a hint of truth in just how much he missed the other man. And there are other things he wants to say but doesn't think they're ready for so he leans down and kisses Ratchet again, this time soft and sweet and slow. Not stopping until he hears the crunch of snow and a Barrayaran soldier clearing his throat as he steps in to warm himself on the other side of the fire. He laughs softly against Ratchet's mouth before lifting his head.
"Get used to it," he warns the soldier, then turns back to Ratchet. "Like I said, welcome to the land of no privacy."
Ratchet nudges at him, his cheeks flushed from more than just the cold.
"Don't harass the locals, York, come on," he says, though he doesn't sound particularly upset and he's still huddled close, his breath warm against the hollow of York's throat.
"I'm not harassing, I'm warning." Since he has no intention of curbing certain impulses, even if he'll stop kissing for now. "Are you tired? You should go get interrogated so you can crash sooner."
"I just escaped a hostile military base and slogged however far distance through the snow with a pack full of food and medical supplies, hell yes I'm tired," Ratchet says, but there's no impatience or irritation in his voice, just a sort of lazy warmth. "But yeah, they'll want to know what happened. When do I get to meet the rest of your friends?"
"In the morning, they're all actually sleeping right now. Well Wash probably isn't, but you know him." He kisses Ratchet's forehead and gives him a little push. "Go answer questions. I'll wait right here."
Sure enough there's a Barrayaran soldier hovering to their left, as if uncertain how to break in.
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He's teasing, of course, but there's a hint of truth in just how much he missed the other man. And there are other things he wants to say but doesn't think they're ready for so he leans down and kisses Ratchet again, this time soft and sweet and slow. Not stopping until he hears the crunch of snow and a Barrayaran soldier clearing his throat as he steps in to warm himself on the other side of the fire. He laughs softly against Ratchet's mouth before lifting his head.
"Get used to it," he warns the soldier, then turns back to Ratchet. "Like I said, welcome to the land of no privacy."
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"Don't harass the locals, York, come on," he says, though he doesn't sound particularly upset and he's still huddled close, his breath warm against the hollow of York's throat.
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Sure enough there's a Barrayaran soldier hovering to their left, as if uncertain how to break in.