#more stuff on her kitchen! and her jars upon jars of jams and preserves and pickles

[bujorulgalben]

moodboard meme // accepting !

@paperworkanddogs​ / 🏠  for a moodboard about my muse’s home aesthetics

answered here! but i am absolutely taking this opportunity to make a part two, so thank you for that! 

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Lucky + whoever you want, B

B is for basorexia, and who doesn’t want to kiss Lucky? For that matter, and more directly relevant to what I did with this prompt, who doesn’t he want to kiss? He’s an affectionate guy, you know? Like, I could write him kissing one person, or I could write him kissing everyone.

There’s a short segment near the end here that’s NSFW, but not so much that I’m putting the tag on the whole thing.

It’s not strictly possible to be an “early riser” in space, where there are no nights or days and the cycle of the week is even more of an agreed-upon fiction than usual. Nevertheless, Lucky bounces out of bed at an hour that the ship’s clock tells him is early, gets dressed, and wanders down to the bridge, and Raptor jumps when he strolls in and says, “Oh good, a morning comet,” in a tone that suggests that she disapproves.

“Morning, Raptor!” He kisses her on the cheek, and she swats at him, muttering something about not teasing her. “Did Spada make breakfast yet?”

“He did, but you’re not going to want to go into the galley unless you feel like kneading dough.”

“Lucky! I like kneading dough.”

“Suit yourself.”

Shou leans forward from his chair. “Feeling a little left out here, where’s my good-morning kiss?”

So Lucky kisses his cheek, too, which is tricky given the shape of his face. Really, it’s more a kiss next to his eye. “Morning, Commander.”

Despite having asked for it, Shou swats at Lucky much like Raptor did. “You’re going to make an old man blush.”

--

There’s a lot of dough, but Lucky is surviving, because there are also pastries. He takes a break from kneading to shove a third one into his mouth, and Spada raises an eyebrow at him from across the counter and says, “You see, this is why I have to make so much of everything.”

“Thif,” says Lucky, and then swallows his pastry, “this jam is amazing, did you make it yourself?” He wipes his hands off on a kitchen towel and gets back to kneading. “It tastes...familiar, somehow.”

Spada preens slightly. “I did, I like preserving fruits. It probably is familiar, the berries are from Kaien.”

“Oh, wow, then I think I know how it’s familiar, I think...I think our cook used to make some kind of tart with these.”

“One of the classic uses. You can stop now, that’s plenty.”

Lucky steps away from the counter and shakes his arms out as Spada gathers this last batch of dough into a bowl and stashes it in a large drawer under the counter. “You know, I never thought about it, but if you do that all the time you must be really strong. You don’t, uh. Have an extra jar of that jam, do you?”

Spada looks at him for a moment and then reaches into another drawer in a different counter and pulls out a small jar. “Don’t tell anyone I’m doing you favors, it’ll ruin my reputation in the intergalactic cooking community if people think I’m too nice.”

“All right, lucky. Thank you, Spada.” Lucky tucks the jar into his jacket, grinning, and then leans across the counter and kisses Spada on the nose. “I promise I won’t go telling people you’re secretly nice.”

--

Garu’s tongue is lolling out of his mouth, his left foot is tapping rapidly on the floor, and his stump of a tail is wagging. Over at the next table, Hame’s chin rests in her hands. She looks fascinated. “I almost feel like I shouldn’t be watching this.”

Garu makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat. “I can’t help it, I like having my hair combed garu.”

“Yeah, uh. Why is Lucky combing your hair?”

“I like combing hair.” Lucky doesn’t look up; he’s sitting on the table, his feet braced on the back of Garu’s chair. “Where I’m from it’s something you do for people you care about. Hey, Garu, if you jump like that I might pull it by accident.”

Another, slightly more pathetic whine. “You care about me garu!”

“Of course I do.” Lucky kisses him on the top of the head where his hair sweeps to the side. “You’re one of my best friends.”

Garu makes sort of a yip noise, a complicated mixture of confusion and delight, and spends the rest of the hair-combing session--only a few minutes more--looking so happy that he might float off the ground. Hame sighs. “You two are so adorable that I might just throw up.”

“You’re done.” Garu gets up, mumbling an awkwardly joyful thank-you, and Lucky waves to Hame with his comb. “Do you want me to do yours next?”

She turns bright red. “Do I what?”

Lucky gestures with his comb again. “Your hair. I know you basically always wear it in that ponytail, but it can be nice to have someone else take care of it for once.”

She stares at him for a moment and then gets up and moves over to the chair that Garu just vacated. “Does this mean you care about me or something?”

“Well, yeah.” Lucky bends down and, since she’s looking up at him, kisses her on the temple as he’s pulling out her hair tie. “If I didn’t then I wouldn’t offer.”

--

The plan was to spar, and that was what they were doing at first. Lucky’s not sure when the plan changed to, “make out on the floor of the practice room,” but he is glad that Stinger disarmed him beforehand.

Actually, that might have been when the plan changed. His sword went flying, so he dove past Stinger’s spear to tackle him instead, Stinger dropped the spear and tripped him, they hit the floor together, and now they’re making out. It’s sort of like sparring, but more fun.

Stinger straddles his waist and says, “Has it ever come up that you’re really easy to distract?”

“I’m not that easy to distract, am I?” Lucky grins up at him, hands on his hips to keep him steady. “I mean, you’re pretty distracted t--”

At which point Stinger grabs his wrists and pins him to the mat, tail whipping around so the sharp, delicate point of it hovers a hairsbreadth away from his throat. “Who’s distracted?”

Lucky looks at Stinger’s tail out of the corner of his eye. “That was incredibly sexy.”

Stinger stares down at him, disbelieving. “I could have killed you and you think it’s sexy?”

“You could have, but you wouldn’t. Besides,” with a glance downwards, “you think it’s sexy seeing me like this.”

Beat. Eye roll. “You’re not wrong. But also you have no sense of self-preservation.”

“Or I’m the luckiest guy in the galaxy. And I trust you.”

“Why are you like this?”

“You love it.”

Stinger makes a frustrated noise and then lets go of Lucky’s wrists in favor of grabbing his shirtfront and pulling him up into a sitting position again. “My life would be a lot simpler if I didn’t like you so much. Take your shirt off.”

“All right, luck--”

“Just...shut up and kiss me before I decide we should actually finish sparring instead.”

--

Balance is teaching him how to juggle, and has decided, for reason knowns only to himself, that today they’re using raw eggs.

“Drive Spada nuts when I do this,” he says cheerfully as eggs fly through the air. “He says it’s a waste of good eggs. I don’t think he realizes that Naaga just eats them when I’m done.”

“You don’t break any of them?”

“Well, maybe one or two.”

Lucky’s currently only got three, because he’s still learning the ropes, but he’s got a good rhythm going. It’s sort of meditative--toss, catch, toss, catch, toss, catch, watch the circle they make as they go around and around.

“The really important thing about being a good juggler,” Balance continues, “is that you gotta have great concentration,” and he tosses Lucky another egg.

Startled, Lucky steps back, misses the new egg, and hears it crack as it hits the ground. Then he nearly loses control of the ones he already has, steps forward to get them back, and slips in the egg white, toppling backwards in a rush.

Except that he doesn’t hit the floor, because there’s an enormous arm suddenly around his waist, and Champ catches all three of his original eggs in one hand with startling delicacy and then says, “Ha! Still got it.”

All right, Lucky thinks, slightly winded, lucky! Out loud what he says is, “Thanks, Champ.”

“No problem.” Champ snorts. “Spada said would I tell you guys it’s time for dinner and to stop wasting eggs.”

“We’ll be down soon.” Lucky lets Champ help him the rest of the way back to his feet, kisses the robot’s cheek with a cheery, “Thanks again,” and grins at the embarrassed snorting noise he gets in response.

Balance jangles as he begins to refill the egg carton. “That was impressive, I didn’t know the big guy could catch like that! Hey, Naaga, you want one of these now or am I saving them all for later?”

Naaga barely glances up from the book he’s studying--a large-format book of portraits, the expressions in which he’s examining closely. “I would like one now, please.” He catches the egg Balance throws him without looking, pops it into his mouth, and swallows it whole. “Thank you, Balance.”

“Baby, come on, you gotta eat dinner, that stuff can wait.”

“I’m almost done."

Balance glances at Lucky and flickers an eye--a wink, for him. Lucky nods, and together they slowly, quietly creep up behind Naaga, Balance holding his ears to keep them from jingling.

And then, when they're barely an inch away from Naaga, he turns, and instead of the back of his neck Balance's cool faceplate bumps his cheekbone. Lucky shrugs, then leans in and does the same on the other side, which, because he actually has a mouth, is more of a kiss than a headbutt.

Naaga flushes bright blue. “I’m confused.”

“I was just gonna be all cold on the back of your neck so you’d get up, Lucky’s the one getting kissy about it.”

“What, did you want one too?” Lucky grins and kisses Balance on an ear, right where the earring is attached. “Anyway, I wonder what Spada made for dinner, we should get going.”

Balance’s eyes flicker as Lucky straightens up and starts heading towards the common area. “He’s feeling cuddly today.”

--

Lucky’s back is against the wall, his legs are around Tsurugi’s waist, and it is hot, hot, hot in his room, only partially because of the ship’s climate control. Not that Lucky doesn’t usually keep the temperature turned up in here, he’s always liked warmth, but also Tsurugi is like a furnace, which Lucky can’t say he objects to.

Normally Tsurugi talks a lot during. Obviously. It’s just what he’s like. Right now, though, his mouth is on Lucky’s neck, and his fingers are digging into Lucky’s ass with the effort of holding him up. It’s a little too much for either one of them to talk.

They’ll get to the bed eventually.

--

“Up late” is just as much of a polite fiction in space as “early riser” is, but as he wanders down to the galley barefoot and in sleep pants Lucky is conscious of having been awake for a pretty long time. He doesn't regret it, it's been a good day, but he's pretty tired.

Maybe there'll be a few of those pastries left. If there are enough of them he can bring a couple back for Tsurugi too.

At the door of the galley he hears a light footstep, turns around, and nearly runs into Kotaro. "Hey, sorry. Can't sleep?"

Kotaro nods, looking wearier than it should be possible for a ten-year-old to be. "Bad dreams."

"Yeah." Lucky gets the galley door open. "Yeah, I get that."

He hasn't figured out the new code for the dessert safe, but he does know where to find everything for hot chocolate, and as long as he cleans up after himself Spada won't kill him for rummaging. There are a few pastries left, too--plenty, in fact, enough for Kotaro to get one and to put aside a couple for Tsurugi.

He passes Kotaro a cup of hot chocolate when it's ready, and a pastry, and Kotaro mumbles, "Thanks."

"Sure. You gonna take that back to your room, or did you want to hang out in here with me?"

"I was just going to get a snack in the first place and then go read a comic." Kotaro yawns hugely over his cup. "If that's ok."

"Sure it is, that was my first plan too." Lucky grins at him. "You should try to get some sleep, though, it's late."

"So should you."

"I'll, uh. I'm going to." Lucky glances at the dish of pastries in his hand and wonders if Kotaro realizes that they're for more than one person. "I just needed a midnight snack."

They walk back side by side and stop at the entry to the crew quarters corridor. Kotaro raises his cup, already half-empty, in a comically adult salute. "Thank you for the hot chocolate."

"You're welcome, thanks for the company." Lucky considers kissing him on the forehead, decides against it because he does get a little touchy about being treated like a child, and ruffles his hair instead. "It's late. Get some sleep."