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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"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.