Work Text:
It’s been 40 years since the crew of the Aurora gained a doctor and a science officer. It’s been 42 since Byron von Raum died, gangrene taking his arm, and it’s been 10 since the first mate started looking near them when he talks. He doesn’t do it all the time, but Marius will take what he can get.
Jonny doesn’t look up from the stirring pot when he hears Marius walk into the kitchen. He can tell from their footsteps that he thinks he’s being stealthy (he is, but Jonny’s lived too long to be snuck up on).
Marius pokes his head too close to look in the pot and gets a facefull of Jonny’s palm as he pushes them out of the way. Marius just stares at him, brow furrowed. Jonny sighs and pulls out a long piece of thyme, still not looking at him.
“It’s chicken soup with egg noodles. You’re getting a bowl.”
Marius looks interested, then hardens their expression purposefully. “What if I don’t-”
“You are skin and bone. I won’t force you, and if you don’t like it I’ll make you something else, but you’re going to eat.” It’s not a request, but it’s not cruel either- something like sympathy buried in the word choice. They don’t like the sympathy, but they like the smell of the soup.
Marius’ expression softens some, but he says nothing, hopping up on the counter while Jonny leans against it, staring into the broth. They’re both quiet for the half hour or so until the timer beeps. Jonny curses at it under his breath. He turns it off before it can finish.
Marius slides down to the floor and finds a barstool, grabbing a beer from the fridge on the way over. He turns the bottle over in his hands. The label looks like someone on the ship made it.
A bowl of soup slides into their peripheral vision. They raise an eyebrow at Jonny seated next to him. Jonny waves his hand impatiently before beginning to eat.
There’s little bits of tomato floating in it. Marius opens his mouth to say something, but Jonny notices his hesitation and winces.
They know tomatoes aren’t poisonous. He understands, now, that his home planet ate off pewter and the combination of tomatoes and pewter gave you lead poisoning, not the tomatoes themselves. But they can hear the horror stories in the back of his head.
“Right. Tomatoes- just push ‘em into my bowl. I’ll eat ‘em.” Marius nods, pushing his bowl closer and carefully fishing out the chunks to drop into Jonny’s bowl. As they eat, he gives Jonny the bits he doesn’t want.
Neither of them comment on the fact that Marius didn’t scoot back, and they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder on a counter with 12 stools.
The soup tastes like—
It doesn’t taste like home. He hasn’t found anything that tastes like home, and he isn’t sure he wants to. They are just barely beginning to think of Aurora as home, in the way that a motel between moving might if home had had motels, if they hadn’t grown up in the shadow of some older civilization’s mistakes.
It tastes like being able to slump his body up against someone’s side and feel them relax into him, a head on his shoulder. It tastes like someone's fingers running over the clipped-short back of his hair that they’re still too scared to let grow out (still too scared to change too much).
It’s also gone too fast, spoon hitting ceramic with a squeak and pulling him out of his thoughts, shoulders tensing. He says nothing, barely having the time to relax, before Jonny nudges the rest of his bowl over, tomatoes eaten. He also seems to have picked through and gotten the dark meat, but Marius just hums appreciatively and finishes the bowl.
Jonny is pretty sure Marius doesn’t catch his warm smile when they pick up the bowl to drink the last of the broth. ( Jonny is wrong .)
Jonny stands, taking both bowls in hand, and goes to wash them in the sink. Marius takes his beer (of which he’s had maybe two drinks) and follows, waiting for Jonny to finish so they don’t have to raise their voice over the sink. The mate raises an eyebrow.
“What.”
“That was really good. Thank you.”
Jonny blinks. Furrows his brow. “Don’t- don’t make a thing out of this.”
“I’m not.” Marius’ arms fold.
“Good!” Jonny’s hands fly up.
“Good.” Marius stands there longer than necessary. The air vibrates with stubbornness.
Marius turns on their heel and walks back to his quarters. He curls up under their hoard of blankets, tugging them over his head, and slides a hand down to rest on their stomach with a soft smile. He hasn’t been this warm in a long time, down into his bones and all sort of fuzzy and comfortable and safe.
Half-asleep, they hear the hiss of his door sliding open and the thuds of Jonny’s heavy boots pausing. Not expecting it to be unlocked . Then a quiet knock on the doorframe.
“You still awake?”
“Mm.”
“Can I come in?”
Marius rolls over, lifting the covers with one arm and patting the bed with the other. Everything’s a bit of a blur through one eye without their contacts, but he makes out Jonny quickly dropping belts, his vest, his boots, an earring to the floor before curling up with his back to their chest. The blankets drop on both of them, and Marius dozes off with his face in Jonny’s hair.
Jonny snores.