And wait until I read Moneyball so I can talk to you about it. :-)
But yeah. That's what I mean. If your research is something that is important to you again someday. Or if you learn you do like the idea of being a chef again. Or an astronaut. Or the guys who drive ice cream trucks. Or just being Morgan and not doing any of that.
( Though, to be fair, it doesn't have to be Barrett's favorite - just something he'd enjoy eating. )
I don't mind going to your house, if it'd be easier for you to teach me there. My dishes won't be very good at first, but I don't mind practicing.
( Considering he runs repetitive content over and over in Fragment, redoing dishes until he gets them right is not daunting to him. And, of course, he presumes he'll pay for whatever he uses up. That's fine. )
( boiger... Mithrun copy & pastes Barrett's burger order into a separate document. He'll do some of his own research into how cooking this might work ahead of his flight. )
Okay. Thank you. I don't know what I like, so I don't know what to ask for, though... Anything you're proud of is fine.
He's surprised - in some positive way he can't articulate. He never thought much about whether someone could say his name right - not anymore, at least - but something about knowing how Barrett said it the first time and how Barrett said it now, such a slim time apart..
It's a sort of care that coils up in his chest funny, constricting around the heart. )
...I didn't want Kabru or anyone to laugh if I did it wrong. So I found someone in my algebra class that's taking French, and they helped me with the sounds in exchange for coffee.
[He hadn't been that motivated over a single non-restaraunt word in a while.]
It's such a simple request, and yet he can feel gooseflesh rise along his arms. There's a hum, then silence, the sound of noises changing and fading on the background with a rush of movement. The sounds of him finding somewhere else to stand, to talk.
When his voice picks back up, it's low and soft - affectionate, careful, the sensuality of it accidental if it happens at all.]
He doesn't know why he asked. He thought it'd just sound nice; and then— it's a little more than that. He feels the shiver first at his neck, and then his face a little warmer. His heart thumps heavy, but it doesn't feel so bad. )
... Barrett...
( He says his name without meaning to, with his exhale; a murmur, tinged with - excitement? fondness? maybe. He hadn't thought much of his name since the accident; told Hani they could have it if they wanted, even. But, for the first time... he feels a little anchored to it. )
[It's like pins and needles to his fingers and arms. Just a name. Just a statement. But he feels the heat come to his face slightly as he tucks his face against his phone, smile breaking the heat of his features unseen on the other side of the screen.]
...It's delicious.
[A drop of the stock that is Morgan.
He chuckles, a low sound deep from his chest.]
Don't jinx me, though, okay? I'd feel bad screwing it up on Saturday.
( ... "Delicious"... Something about that gets his coiled heart feeling funny; not so elegant that you could call it glittering, just - dizzy and stumbling like a silly drunk in his chest.
He slides down on the couch until he's not really sitting, until he can curl up nearly horizontal with the sound of Barrett's voice. He really does like his laugh. )
... Then I'll just have you repeat it until you get it right again. So long as it tastes good, for you.
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And wait until I read Moneyball so I can talk to you about it. :-)
But yeah. That's what I mean. If your research is something that is important to you again someday. Or if you learn you do like the idea of being a chef again. Or an astronaut. Or the guys who drive ice cream trucks. Or just being Morgan and not doing any of that.
You still don't need him anymore.
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He still isn't sure, but. )
You said you can cook, right?
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Why?
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I don't know if I'd become a chef. But maybe I can manage a dish you'd like.
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His heart skips a bit, and he isn't sure why.]
A dish I'd like? Me?
Yeah, I could show you. I don't have a lot here at the dorm, but we have a big kitchen at home.
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( Though, to be fair, it doesn't have to be Barrett's favorite - just something he'd enjoy eating. )
I don't mind going to your house, if it'd be easier for you to teach me there. My dishes won't be very good at first, but I don't mind practicing.
( Considering he runs repetitive content over and over in Fragment, redoing dishes until he gets them right is not daunting to him. And, of course, he presumes he'll pay for whatever he uses up. That's fine. )
1/2
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I'll show you. I don't mind trying it even if it needs help.
I'll show you how things taste, so maybe you can tell what needs to be changed.
Maybe I can make something for you, too.
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Okay. Thank you. I don't know what I like, so I don't know what to ask for, though... Anything you're proud of is fine.
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I'll find something for you. :-) Even if I have to try a bunch of things.
I'll still get to do it with you.
[And the thought of it is exciting. He's glad no one is commenting on how openly he smiles at his phone in the middle of the university library.]
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I'll see you soon.
( And by that, he means, I look forward to seeing you. )
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I'll look for Moneyball after I'm done studying for tomorrow. Promise.
[And maybe Faulkner. Who knows.]
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( Teasing, )
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After a whole day of football? Are you sure I'll even remember my uniform number?
Maybe I'll still remember the name of the book. :-)
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Yes?
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Right?
[He doesn't butcher it this time.
Someone has been practicing.]
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He's surprised - in some positive way he can't articulate. He never thought much about whether someone could say his name right - not anymore, at least - but something about knowing how Barrett said it the first time and how Barrett said it now, such a slim time apart..
It's a sort of care that coils up in his chest funny, constricting around the heart. )
... That's right. You practiced?
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Um.
...I didn't want Kabru or anyone to laugh if I did it wrong. So I found someone in my algebra class that's taking French, and they helped me with the sounds in exchange for coffee.
[He hadn't been that motivated over a single non-restaraunt word in a while.]
...
I'm... glad it sounds okay.
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... )
... Would you say it again? My full name.
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It's such a simple request, and yet he can feel gooseflesh rise along his arms. There's a hum, then silence, the sound of noises changing and fading on the background with a rush of movement. The sounds of him finding somewhere else to stand, to talk.
When his voice picks back up, it's low and soft - affectionate, careful, the sensuality of it accidental if it happens at all.]
...Morgan.
Morgan Chatainne.
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He doesn't know why he asked. He thought it'd just sound nice; and then— it's a little more than that. He feels the shiver first at his neck, and then his face a little warmer. His heart thumps heavy, but it doesn't feel so bad. )
... Barrett...
( He says his name without meaning to, with his exhale; a murmur, tinged with - excitement? fondness? maybe. He hadn't thought much of his name since the accident; told Hani they could have it if they wanted, even. But, for the first time... he feels a little anchored to it. )
... I like the way my name sounds on your lips.
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...It's delicious.
[A drop of the stock that is Morgan.
He chuckles, a low sound deep from his chest.]
Don't jinx me, though, okay? I'd feel bad screwing it up on Saturday.
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He slides down on the couch until he's not really sitting, until he can curl up nearly horizontal with the sound of Barrett's voice. He really does like his laugh. )
... Then I'll just have you repeat it until you get it right again. So long as it tastes good, for you.
( And he hopes it - he? - does, every time. )
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rip for the mods that needed a NSFW warning that we probably should have added like four tags ago, w
we're safe in this post..... for now,
are we......
:)
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