help-from-above·:
At Ryan’s distaste, Ray glances over, the light from the street lamps catching on his glasses and momentarily making him look kind of creepy.
“Fried dough is good, man,” Ray muses. He invites himself to Ryan’s takeout container, chews with thought, and is equally disappointed. “Yeah, it’s not great. Here.”
On the end of Ray’s fork, part of a dumpling; soft, steaming dough dribbling slightly with sesame sauce. “These are like, okay. It’s hot though, blow on it a little.”
There’s a grumble that comes from the man, not about to argue to Ray since yes, fried dough is good. This, on the other hand, doesn’t compare. It makes him want to vomit. He puts the container to the side in defeat before turning back to his partner.
With little hesitation, he bites it off the fork. It is hot & the dumbass huffs to try & cool it down before swallowing it with a hum of content. Damn, it is better than his food. “That’s not half bad,” Ryan says, “Should’ve ordered that instead.”
"Here," Ray says. He shifts, knitting their sides together and pressing himself to Ryan. Ray forks up another piece of dumpling, blows on it gently this time, and feeds it to Ryan once more. Ray takes the next bite for himself.
"I'm not picky," Ray murmurs around his food, a smirk ghosting over his features. He arches over Ryan, sticks his fingers into the fried pork, and steals a bite. After some thought, Ray shrugs. "I've eaten worse."
Shamelessly licking his fingers, Ray sets his takeaway in Ryan's lap, inviting the gent to eat as he pleases. The kid tends to pick at and play with his food more than anything anyway, so sharing with Ryan is no big deal.


















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