SISTINE

"And if you don't, that's okay too." He quirked a small smile before lifting a shoulder. "We get to keep you safe here on the ground, which is something I will never complain about." He squeezed gently before pulling away to give Rahi the room to think about it.

But that does well to relax him, to let some of the heavy load to roll off his back. A small smile of appreciation, and the light brushing against his knuckles, and down around the ring on his finger. Probably a tan line under there, with how it's never taken off.

"No... Not worried, um—" You might be happy about it, he thinks as he shakes his head, actually.

"I need to... talk to you, tell you, about something." Beat, as he thinks on how to phrase. If he will be able to speak about it at all. "Um... Reid called me today." Mission Commander. "And um, long story short, it was... suggested..." There's no such thing as a suggestion, when it comes to NASA. "That if I do go on another trip again, that it would be my last."

"I..." He paused for another moment before his hands absentmindedly moved to break apart a pair of chopsticks. "Are you... how are you handling the news?" Of course, the most important person he needed to check up on was Rahi himself.

Space travel was in his blood.

"Mhm." It's not an answer, but he can barely think about the guy without getting frustrated again. So he decides he won't be. Instead, he takes the opportunity to link their fingers more permanently now, hands held between glasses and an array of bottled sauces in the middle of the table.

"I know, baby. But you weren't handling it, so." Slight shrug. Eyes bright and warm on Arman's, under the restaurant's light. "...I just wanted all of you."

Hand, squeezed a little tighter. Then, almost a plea, "I really fucking need my husband tonight."

"... You have all of me." He finally says, squeezing his hand softly before meeting his gaze and shaking his head. "You always have all of me."

Another squeeze before Arman's brows furrow.

Even if at a disadvantage, he's happy with his hand squeezed in tight anger — body dragged along in frustration. There must be something wrong with him.

Now sat, Rahi shrugs off the blazer almost instantly. He'd always hated it to begin with — and now, it lacks all point.

"Okay, well— is there an option where you don't continue to argue with me?" He asks, but the gaze across the table is warmer than it is cold. A wink there too, softening all edges left jagged.

Then, he remembers — his husband's very empty stomach. Signals the waitress promptly. Rahi would go ahead and order too (Arman's go-to memorized some eight years back), if only there wasn't a dynamic set in place.

"...They have your favorite," Rahi offers instead — warm smile, and a hand that reaches for his — catching Arman'ss gaze from where they sit. "We could do that."

I want nothing more, that space between their eyes spells out, than to love you now and love you later.

At a shitty or fancy restaurant. In the streets, or back at home.

"Will you be apologizing to my editor any time soon?" He answers his question with a question, lifting Rahi's knuckles to his lips before shaking his head.

Arman doesn't present himself by his window, pulling the door open — instead, he holds out a hand from inside the vehicle, empty and warm for Rahi to take.

That shiny wedding band glistens too in the shallow light, reminding the both of them of how heavy a hand of trust plays in this game. They could be standing upon the very precipice of hell — and if Arman offered his touch, Rahi would blindly take it until the flames were done consuming them both.

So he does.

They're outside. The cold cuts, but his eyes soothe. I don't want to go to the restaurant anymore.

They've had their fair share of fights. People who have been together for as long as they have always do... but their marriage was made stronger for it, weathered by disagreements and rebuilt over and over again by every single time they've resolved it.

He still wasn't in the mood to talk. Not right now, but he knew that they were going to be okay.

They walked for a bit more before finally stopping just before a bustling chinese restaurant, no nonsense and noisy, the flourescent light from its sign flickering and faded from years of obviously being in business.

Without another word, Arman leads them in, greeted by a woman who held up two fingers before shoving two large menus against Arman's chest and ushering them to a tiny table sandwiched between two others. One hosting a group of students yelling about upcoming finals, the other a young family speaking in rapid mandarin.

And there they sat, dressed in fine blazers.

Another sigh, longer than the last. "Sometimes I pick up calls, but it's like— it's not that one thing is more important than the other, but— baby, some things happen at the speed of light, and others don't." Beat. "And you're part of that. When they talk about 'people on Earth', there only three faces that come up for me, and you know which ones."

And he was so fucking hungry.

Curse this goddamn restaurant, and their small portions, and their late-ass reservation time.

I love you, baby. He knew that too. And he was going to relent... but then he wasn't, and the car slowed down and they were only one corner away from the restaurant when he lightly tapped behind the driver's seat. "You can drop us off here, Peter." He said before waiting for the car to come to a complete halt before getting out.

"I don't want to go to the restaurant anymore." He said simply before stepping out of the car and turning to Rahi with a raised brow. Another pause.

During galas, or fundraisers, or other required sunrises. Where there were guests, there were also unwelcomed ones.

"And even when they flirted with me, at least it was during work hours." Beat. "I thought you wanted this to be our night, or something? Right?"

He returns Rahi's look with his own before shaking his head and facing forward.

"I thought we wanted this to be our night? Not just me." He retorted, not liking the implication.

A pause. Pregnant and long.

Up to you.

A call. A goddamn fucking call. Bob has to be kidding.

Rahi grabs the phone, all too unapologetically so.

"Hey, Bob. Rahi here." Gaze shot, sharply at Arman. "No respectable publishing company is working at 10pm on a Saturday, so I think whatever emergency you have can actually wait." Beat. "Again, it's a Saturday. Just go do something that doesn't involve us at all."

A long, drawn out silence. "...Understood, Sir."

End call.

"Rahi, that was out of line. I would never speak to your colleagues that way." He hissed, voice tight as he shook his head.

"Even the incredibly flirty ones, the ones that take it way too far, I would never." Because despite him not respecting them, he respected his husband and his career.

So what if David was a little eager to reach him every now and again?

"Maybe you should."

Arman shouldn't. But— that kiss under his jaw turns into a bite. Maybe he should.

He felt his phone vibrate, eyes once more turning from his husband to the call now incoming.

He paused before turning it face down to once more give Rahi his attention.

New York City speeds right on by, and he follows the lights for a long block, then the next. Finds the screen of Arman's phone to be shining bright, and draws himelf closer then — mouth fit under an earlobe.

"Oh, I know this is not the guy who was telling me to 'hurry' ten minutes ago."

Shrug. "Tell Bob you'll get back to them later."

So what if his words were a little tight?

"Besides, we're not at the restaurant yet, I can get all these emails done before then." He says before moving his eyes back to his phone.

Atlas gets the same treatment as Nova, and the sitter gets a thank you smile on the way out. As for Arman, a hand that locks into his own as they shut the apartment door behind.

“She knows how to tire them out,” he comments, in a quip-like form. “They’ll both be dead asleep by the time we’re back.”

He thinks of saying something, bring up what’s clearly bubbling under the surface, but decides to wait. The car? The restaurant? But maybe his husband would beat him to it.

Married life with Rahi had always been so interesting to him. He knew that for this particular trip, they've had moments of them being particularly short with each other. Tempers have flared and they've exchanged a few sharp words amidst all the fuss and work that brought them to this city...

But that didn't take away from the fact that they could have these moments of softness and intimacy as well.

Not if you're an astronaut and his best-selling husband, anyway. But it's one of those privileges that he hadn't realized were privileges; they were just charismatic and damned lucky.

He spritz a bit of cologne on each side of a freshly shaved neck, and steps out — just as he's being called out. Perfect timing.

(Rahi's not blameless. He knows that.)

"Why are you lying to them?" He jokes. "They can't come because—" Whispers, away from little perked up ears. Pulls back, sleazy grin, then ties it with a brief kiss.

"Eeeeew!!!" The expected reaction, off the kiss.

"No ew," Rahi quips back at her, "Here, one for you too." As promised, a peck planted against a ridiculously chubby cheek.

He leans forward to listen to whispered words before his smile morphs into a smirk, lightly smacking Rahi on his behind discreetly in punishment before letting out a laugh as their daughter squeals at the kiss.

He watches fondly before gently putting her down to pick up his son now looking for some attention of his own (which he'd more than happily give).

"Of course we can't forget about you, aziz." He crooned before planting a kiss on his cheek as well. "Don't cause too much trouble while we're gone, okay?" He turned to see their sitter standing with a smile, hands out expectantly to take.

"Call us if there are any problems, but I don't think you'll have any." Their babies were little angels and no one could tell him otherwise.

Beat. "You tried getting in?"

So goddamn smart.

He feels Rahi's hands on his waist and unconsciously his muscles unwind.

Just let it go, Arman... Just let it all go...

He feel his jaw unclench as he holds Rahi's gaze, the questions swirling in his eyes before he finally feels his shoulders collapse, unravelled by just one word as he reaches out to cradle Rahi's face with a roll of his eyes. "I don't want to go there. It's not that. It just... God, you get why I'm asking all these questions, right? I'm trying to wrap my head around something that doesn't sound normal, and I get it. Maybe it's normal to you, but it isn't to me." He was way over his head.

It always seemed like he was.

There's a beat then, Rahi's features about just as confused as Arman's are. "Do you— not believe me, or something? What else would I be doing?" It hits like whiplash. "I would have brought you along baby, but you get queasy with blood, you know that."

In this fight, Arman says, that I didn't even get any wind of. He's smart, so very smart, and it makes Rahi fall in love all over again — and fantasize of telling him everything.

(But what good would it do? He loves their normal life, separate from all this.)

"Well, you were upstairs. It's a big place, baby. People tend to get weird downstairs, which is why I don't really go there." True, again. "I have no idea. It was people they didn't get along with in the first place, so." Rahi draws closer, a hand finding Arman's arm — earnest eyes looking up at his. "And I was trying to get home to you, so I didn't really stick around to ask questions. I don't care — I don't want anything to do with that, I just wanted to be done and come back to you."

Arman had to admit that he was unsure of his place in Rahi's life here in New York. Where did he fit? Amidst the familiarity of Rahi's friends and the map ingrained in his system... He tried to convince himself that all this doubt, all these questions, that was where it stemmed from...

But a part of him knew it wasn't. There was something else. He just didn't know what.

"Of course I believe you." And he did... it just... didn't seem to add up to him. He wasn't convinced.

All true.

"Yeah," he shakes his head. "I'm fine." Lie. "No, actually, I'm pissed off. I hate that they're pulling that shit, and I hate that I'm getting dragged into it." It's astounding, how he can say exactly what he means, all that he feels, while still holding on to much more. "I don't know."

"Two of your friends got into a fight that led to them needing stitches and neither one of them wanted to go to the hospital? Instead, they asked you to stitch them back up... in this fight that I didn't even get any wind of while at the event." The words didn't even make sense while he was saying it.

He held Rahi's gaze as he tried his best not to feel completely stupid.