#sdra x reader

'The weather here is nice at night,' you think to yourself.

The wall of the hotel is firm against your back as you lean against it, taking in the cool night air. The heat was blistering in the daytime, but now with the dual moons overhead, its calmed to a comfortable temperance. As the days go on, it seems like every bounty is a little more dangerous than the last, so when you get open-and-shut cases like these, it's a bit of a treat. Stars know you all need it.

The crunching of gravel beneath boots brings you out of your thoughts, the familiar rhythm alerting you to Pyke's approach as he rounds the corner and takes up a spot against the wall beside you. A comforting presence, its not long before you fall back into your own thoughts, savoring the peace he always seems to bring with him. In the back of your mind you vaguely recognize him lighting up a cigarette, before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets -- casual as ever.

It wasn't always like this -- once, there was a time where you struggled to gauge the silence, but now those worries seem so far away. You didn't really understand the true experience of a comforting silence until you met him. Still, it's all the more a treat when you two do chat. And its just then that he speaks, as though having read your mind.

"Any idea what this thing actually is?"

You look over to him, and dangling from his middle finger is a keychain -- a very cute, and very familiar keychain. You grin, so fond that it makes your heart flutter in your chest, and its then that he tosses it over to you. It lands in your hands perfectly, and you take the time to admire it closer.

You had been looking at the little critter in the earlier half of this bounty -- just a quick glance at the mini stuffed animal while casing your target. You can't imagine it held your attention for more than a few moments, and yet like always, Pyke had caught on to your interest. And that's just the thing -- that attentiveness, these small acts of kindness… they've been more frequent lately. Its like any time you avoid buying something for yourself, Pyke will come in at the last seconds before you leave to hand that very thing over to you. Its sweet, painfully so.

You turn the keychain, admiring its tiny face; it's chubby little body; the fluffy tail, and poorly-sewn dots for eyes... It's adorable. Positively adorable. I mean really, is there anyone in the multiverse who doesn't love…

"A shrewell," you smile, "Didn't know you liked the cute and fuzzies, Pyke. Putting this one on your keyring?"

The comment gets a huff of laughter out of him, and you take that as a win.

"Seriously though, thank you," you say, "how do you always know when I'm holding back on buying trivial shit like this, huh?"

He shrugs."I like to think I know you pretty well."

And with that he flicks the ash off his cigarette, not elaborating any further.

This time its your turn to huff out a laugh, and you twiddle with the plush's rounded ears as you try to figure out your next words. Truthfully, the thing is only worth a couple of bucks -- Hell, the shop he got it from probably overpriced it. But the idea that he's thinking of you…

"Yeah, you do. Thanks, Pyke."

"Don't mention it."

Prompt: Pink- Kindness

Pyke Starfall

He's not big on PDA -- when you're in a public place, its usually for a bounty, and well… he's not keen on putting an unnecessary target above your head if he doesn't have to. It's unlikely that you'd ever get into a situation where that information could be used against the two of you, but still, it's better to be safe than sorry. If you get too close while on a job, he might tap your shoulder or nudge your leg with his own to remind you of the situation, although if you're nervous and seeking comfort, he's good about pulling you aside to somewhere private to make sure you're doing alright.

This all being said, he's also just very secure in your relationship. He doesn't feel the need to "stake a claim" or what have you -- you two chose each other. That's the long and the short of it. If you seek out affection in front of the crew while on the Rhapsody though, he won't deny you. And Hell, he's not above tugging you into his side during movie nights, or what have you. Affection is a vulnerable thing, but he knows you're safe with the crew... even if he gets teased a little for being a softie.

That being said, on the rare occasion that he gets jealous, he might put an arm around your shoulder, or a hand on your waist. He'll also occasionally guide you through crowds with a hand on the small of your back, but at that point, there's usually something triggering his danger sense, and he just wants a hand on you in the event that things go south. So really, its less about PDA, and more about safety.

Rett Indigo

Much like Pyke, he's not one for PDA. His train of thought is similar -- if you're on a bounty, having the enemy know that you're each others' weak points could give them an advantage, and he doesn't want to put either of you at risk. If you're not in the thick of it, he might lay a hand on your leg beneath the table, or something similarly subtle, but that's about as much as you'll get while you're "on the clock." That being said, it's very comforting, and you never take those little gestures for granted. He's got this sixth sense for when you're getting nervous, and his touch is oh, so very grounding.

He can get a little caught up in his head about relationship things -- he enjoys affection, but he's a bit awkward in that delightful, middle-aged man kind of way. He won't initiate PDA, but if you do (granted, if you're not actively on a bounty), he absolutely will not deny you. In fact, he revels in it. Just... quietly.

While on the Rhapsody though, he's basically always got a hand on you if you're not doing anything. His favorite place to be is on the couch with an arm around your shoulder, and a happy Hank in one (or both) of your laps.

Ziggy Woog

Chronic handholder -- if he doesn't need both hands for his digi-pad, then you can bet everything he's going to be holding your hand. Doesn't matter where or when, and he doesn't give a fuck if people make comments, either. He likes to be close to you, and he doesn't care if hand-holding is seen as "childish," or whatever it is people want to say. Whenever he holds your hand, he'll also play with your fingers, and tap out sporadic rhythms on the back of your hand. ADHD much? If he needs both his hands though, he half expects you to lean into him, and if you don't, he'll just lean into you.

Unlike Pyke and Rett, Ziggy doesn't really think about the potential of you being used as a weak point when it comes to bounties. It's not that he's unaware of the risk, it's just… I mean, when things get violent, it's not like the bounty is going to have time to single one of your two out. And I mean, he'd defend everybody with his life -- this is his family, after all.

While Pyke and Rett have forbidden him from being too open about your relationship online, you absolutely have matching social media accounts that he's unwilling to delete. He'd scream your relationship from the digital rooftops, if he could. He absolutely brags about your relationship to anyone that will listen.

Ko Tetsutora

Oh, she doesn't give a fuck about public vs. private. She's always got some sort of hand on you, typically around your waist, shoulders, or in your back pocket. She doesn't get why you guys should have to stifle yourselves just because other people can't handle the thought of two people being in love. Now granted, she's not going to shove her tongue down your throat in the middle of the supermarket, but she has nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, she's ecstatic that she gets to show the world that you're taken by one another.

She gets pretty defensive if people say shit, especially if you're a visibly queer couple. (Which regardless of your own gender, she's butch in the way that makes it impossible for you two to look like a straight couple.) She's not going to start throwing hands right off the bat, but the combination of her words and physique really make people reconsider their words.

She's got a good sense for danger, and PDA ramps up when she gets the feeling that a fight's about to break out. You can tell because her hand moves to somewhere that's easier to guide you, if need be. She knows damn well that you can handle yourself, but if shit hits the fan, she wants to make sure you're in a good position to kick some ass.

Pixel Pop

PDA is her middle name! If you're tall enough, she's basically always riding on your shoulders or on your back. If the latter, she likes to wrap her arms around your neck, lean her head on your shoulder, and chatter while you walk. And for the former, she'll look up over the crowd and tell you what's ahead while scratching your scalp affectionately. She absolutely loves the feeling of loving and being loved, and she expresses that a lot through her physicality. Although if you're closer to her size, or if she's otherwise unable to be carried, she likes to hold your hand or link arms with you.

She's so bubbly as well that if you're holding hands, it's pretty impossible to avoid swinging your interlaced hands a bit. She makes life feel so fun, that even if you're not usually a PDA person, it's easy to just fall into step with her and let the sunshine wash over you.

Very loud and proud about your relationship, for a mix of reasons. Part of it is that she doesn't really have any shame about being in love, and she doesn't see any reason to hide her natural inclination to be near you. And another part of it is… she does get a little jealous. And yeah, maybe staking a claim on you quiets that possessive part of herself. But hush, you don't need to know about that.

In general, Pyke tends to preempt your wants and needs before you've even consciously recognized them in yourself. He knows you, and so you'll never have to worry about getting up for seconds, or to refill a glass. You'll also never have to worry about running back to the ship for a forgotten phone or pair of keys. Although funnily enough, he'll quietly hold onto it until you forget and ask to turn back, before handing it over with a smart-ass "already got it."

He's always up before you -- its a mix of his insomnia and his natural rhythm. He can be convinced to stay in bed for a little while longer to cuddle if you cling to him enough, but otherwise he's rolling out of bed to go make breakfast for everyone. On that note, you never have to pour your own coffee/tea -- it's always at the perfect temperature when you come out, and just the way you like it.

Similarly, he almost always brings you a companion glass of your preference whenever he grabs himself a drink -- alcoholic or otherwise, that's just part of the whole preempting thing.

He says he doesn't care how you decorate shared spaces, but he does have a really good eye for color and design. He doesn't go out of his way to make the space feel lived in with trinkets and art -- that part is up to you -- but great at the rest. It can be a bit difficult to get him to go pick out furniture and paint colors -- he tends to deflect most opinion-seeking questions with "whatever looks good to you," but if you send him out alone to get things, he'll make the Rhapsody absolutely gorgeous.

He's also really good at assembling normal furniture… super techy stuff though, not so much. He kind of avoids super high-tech things in general -- he doesn't get why your fridge needs to be "smart."

If he has nothing else to do in the day, he'll stay in a pair of grey sweats and a tight-fitting tanktop. And when doing chores, he'll pull his hair back into a low ponytail, and… woof. His sweats tend to ride a little low, which means you get a peek at that pretty v-line of his while he's working, and-- My lawyers have advised I say no further.

He really likes older media, and its so nice to just curl up with him to binge-watch an old favorite of his. If you're lucky, he might even give you some oddball trivia about it. Laying in his arms at the end of the day, his hand moving up and down your spine, voice rumbling in his chest as he talks… it's very soothing.

He's a bit of a melancholic drunk, which is precisely why he draws the line at getting tipsy. The days of being a reckless party animal are long, long behind him now -- not that he was ever all that wild, but still, you could have gotten a song or two out of him in his early 20s. But today, his ideal night of drinking involves laying on the couch while watching old episodes of whatever sci-fi show's decided to pop up in his memory.

Not that you're complaining, of course. While he doesn't get drunk enough to completely lose his inhibitions, he does get a little bit more touchy and sweet. A hand that might casually rest around your shoulders while sober will start to absentmindedly trace circles on the skin, or wander up and down soothingly.

If you're really adamant about going to a bar though, he'll oblige you… just don't expect to be climbing the rooftops or anything afterwards. He doesn't drink nearly enough to lose his wits -- especially when out in public -- and he's not afraid to put you on a leash if he's got to. Not in the hot way either, much to your dismay -- he's just trying to keep you from smoking 100 drunk cigarettes, and from wandering into traffic.

…He's not above drunk walking to get food, though. He's too cool to admit it, but he does love the way the alcohol makes the city lights look brighter, and how you cling to him a bit more while you walk. That's as far as drunk adventures go with Pyke though. Your company is thrilling enough, and Stars know you two get into enough trouble with your… unique profession. Why bother making more trouble?

Prompt: Red - Adventure

Space travel is a odd thing -- you're not a stranger to it, not by any means, but there's a million little logistical quirks that you never really consider until you're a thousand miles into the void. On the ground, the rising of the morning sun simply feels like an immutable fact, an unshakable routine that guides all life…. but out here, it doesn't happen like that. Or at least, not in the same way. The cycling of night and day might be different, and yet, the perfect cycle of waking and resting continues regardless. Etched into your DNA, the body doesn't care that you're a countless miles away from your place of birth, far enough from any star bright enough to guide the conscious mind into order -- your home is among the stars, and you're content to listen to the natural intuition of the flesh when it comes to instinctual things like rest.

Most of the time, anyways.

You yawn, pulling Pyke's jacket a little tighter around your body, letting the remnants of his cologne wash over you as you stumble towards the kitchen. Its earlier than you'd like, but the absence of warmth from the other side of the bed always seems to wake you sooner or later; and truthfully, an early wakeup call like this usually wouldn't be so bad… but you might have stayed up later than you intended last night. You blame Ziggy -- it's certainly not your fault that the onboard WiFi is so good now.

You throw a quick wave to Rett as you pass through the living room and he raises his coffee mug to you with a gruff "g'morning" in return, before turning back towards the bay window to watch the passing of aether currents. You imagine he'll probably be filing into the kitchen soon enough, if the pleasant scent of eggs and bacon wafting through the air are any indication. And speaking of…

The pleasant sight of Pyke greets you as you cross the threshold, managing a small array of sizzling pans. Donned in just a tank, his gauntlet, and a pair of sweats that ride low on his hips, he's a beautiful sight for this early morning. And his hair, still messy from sleep, is done up in a low ponytail; although clearly he didn't brush through it before wrangling his locks into an updo, as several frizzy strands manage to escape and fall delicately over his cheekbones -- pretty as ever, although you imagine you'll want to fix for him before it gets too late into the morning.

He's still as he works, occasionally shaking the pans or nudging something around with the spatula gripped loosely in his hand -- you'll never understand how he so effortlessly avoids the grease splatters from the bacon pan, and he refuses to tell you. Not that you're complaining, of course: you think its just another excuse for him to make you breakfast in the morning, and well, you're not about to take that away from him.

You stand there for just a moment to take in the scene -- the low music that emanates throughout the ship creates a soft, homely sort of atmosphere. Knowing the luck of your crew, you'll all be entangled in some sort of shenanigans before the day is through -- its not long before you reach the next planet to take home your bounty of the week after all -- but right now, looking at your lover, it feels like this peace could last forever.

Its only seconds that you're gazing at him, but even that feels like too long as your body is all but pulled towards him, as naturally as gravity tethers the planets to the sun. Loving arms find their way around his slender waist, and with your chest pressed against his back you can't help but let loose a sigh, having finally, finally reunited yourself with the warmth you've been missing so dearly. A single kiss to his jawline and then you're resting your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his presence.

"Good morning," he murmurs, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead, before you feel him return back to his task. You can only hum quietly in response, feeling drowsiness overtake you once more. The steady rise and fall of his back, the quiet tunes, the subtle crackling of food on the stove… its all so soothing. Could fall asleep like this if you wanted to, honestly -- stars knows he's strong enough to keep you upright if you did.

"Tired?" he asks, briefly snapping you out of your stupor.

"Mmhm."

He huffs out a breath of amusement at your response -- its felt more than heard as his back shakes and his chest deflates with a rush of air before…

"Told you not to stay up so late."

You groan, peeling your eyes open to shoot him a half-hearted glare, although you don't lift your head from his shoulder just yet -- still too comfortable to bother. A smirk toys at the edges of his lips as he very, very pointedly avoids making eye contact with you, and you don't fail to notice how pointless that one, particular shake to the leftmost pan was. Bastard. You flick his waist and push your chest more firmly into the hard planes of his back, settling yourself more concretely against him.

"You should be nicer to me," you grumble, "save the lecture for when I've had a cup of coffee, at least. What, I don't get boyfriend privileges before…"

You glance at the clock, squinting at the neon LEDs.

"…8am?"

Its only then that he looks at you, craning his neck to make proper eye contact. Those pretty, sunshine yellow eyes bore into yours as he gives you "that" look, that quiet little message of "shut up" that you've become oh so fond of over the years, and you can't help but grin. That's your Pyke, alright. He softens just a touch at that, moving his hand to squish your cheeks and place a kiss to your waiting lips.

"Yeah, you've got…" he glances at the clock himself, "…fifteen minutes to kill."

He reaches over, shoveling a healthy amount of food onto a plate, before holding it out for you to take -- first as always, and just the way you like it.

"Go on, eat before everyone else gets up," he says, turning back to his task as you disentangle yourself from his form… although not before pressing one last kiss to his cheek, one he accepts with a soft smile.

Its strange how the body can operate on such perfect instinct, so aware of night and day, even when untold miles away from any place where such a word has meaning. But… maybe its not so strange after all. If there's anything, anyone, bright enough to rival the sun…

Well, you might just have one name in mind.

Pyke Starfall

Fucking… damn it.

He sighs, taking a deep pull from his cigarette. He should have seen it coming -- really, he should have. The feelings have been bubbling for so long, and he's always known he's had a bit of a preference for you, it's just… he didn't think he would ever feel this way again. Not after her. It was easier to tell himself that you're just a good friend, but now its like the universe is singing your tune, and there's not a single way to drown it out.

Truth be told, it eats him alive for a while. There's so much guilt weighing him down, that frankly, the idea of moving on feels like an insurmountable task -- its like a betrayal, even.

For a long time, nothing changes. He doesn't avoid you, but he doesn't try to woo you either -- for all intents and purposes, he's just regular old Pyke. Particularly keen eyes might clock that he's smoking a little more than usual, but he's a chronic chainsmoker as is -- its easy to play it off as stress from the recent run-ins with The Scarlet Eye, and any further questioning is immediately shut down by Pyke himself.

No -- it's only once he reconciles with his past in full that he's able to finally take a deep breath and let himself feel. And when he does, it's almost overwhelming -- not for you, but for him.

He hasn't flirted with intent in fucking years, and every little thing you do just drives him up a damn wall. The feeling of your fingertips brushing against his own when you hand him a mug; the warmth of your thigh pressing against his own as you all sit down together for movie night; the knowing little side-eye you give him whenever Ziggy starts on some rant that you just know is going to piss him off… it all sends his heart pounding out of his chest, and he can't tell whether he loves it or hates it.

Before he came to terms with the depth of his feelings, it wasn't unusual for you two to just fuck off together just to hang out. Hell, he'd do the same with Rett and Ko too. But now with you its a little more frequent, and little more intentional. He plays it all about as cool as he can, but you know him, and you know when things are different.

You notice how he stands a little closer to you, and how he starts to look at you more than he does the horizon.

You notice how he stops asking for your lighter, and instead has you light it for him. How he peers at you from beneath his eyelashes when you cup your hands around the flame, coaxing the paper and tobacco into a smolder while he holds the filter between his lips. How readily he'll do the same for you, if you share the habit.

You notice his soft smiles when he thinks nobody's looking, and the faint flush that decorates the tips of his ears whenever you're being sweet on him. How thickly he swallows, when you brush a few stray strands out of his eyes.

Pyke has always held a certain type of softness for you. He's always remembered your favorite snacks, and how you take your coffee in the morning. He's always been the first to motion towards the exit when he notices you're getting tired of a situation, and he's never once forgotten to grab one of those dumb little trinkets you're obsessed with while he's out and about. It all comes as naturally as breathing to him, so really, it shouldn't stand out when he continues to do them. And yet, even this seems a little different.

He still plays it cool, but its like he's caught between studying your reaction, and avoiding your gaze entirely. Suddenly, this isn't just something he does naturally -- it holds meaning. A lot of meaning.

Pyke Starfall is an absolute master at making plans -- no matter how impossible the task seems, if you give him enough time, he'll figure out a way to make even the most distant dream a reality. But for once… he doesn't really have a plan. It's clear to both of you that there's something there -- he knows you just as well as you know him, after all. One of you will confess eventually… or maybe one night the tension will just hit its limit, and you'll kiss under the cover of darkness and let your actions do the talking. Either way, everything will happen as its meant to… he just has to get his nervous system under control, first.

Ko Tetsutora

Wait, what the fuck?

Listen, she's not opposed to a relationship. She's not! It's just… weird, you know? She's here for a good time, not a long time… and a relationship kind of implies being around for a while, huh?

Alright fine, she'll admit it -- she is terrified of getting into a committed relationship. Ko "Knockout" Tetsutora doesn't do all that lovey-dovey shit. Its just… there's so many expectations put forth by society on what a relationship "should" be, and it all just sounds like a fucking nightmare, doesn't it? She doesn't want a white picket fence, doesn't want to be tied down, doesn't want to be stuffed into some pristine white dress to walk down a too-perfect isle in front of a bunch of people she doesn't fucking care about. Like, its cool for everyone else, but it's just not her thing.

And I mean even if it was her thing, what happens if shit goes wrong? Obviously you can handle yourself -- you wouldn't be running with them all if you couldn't -- but I mean, everyone she's ever loved has gotten hurt. Yeah, you're fine now, but what happens when she gets too attached? What then?

So in this way… she doesn't really clock her own feelings as "falling" for you -- not at first, anyways. That's a word they made up to sell those dating sims that Ziggy won't shut the fuck up about -- I mean sure she's attracted to you, but she's not "falling in love" or whatever. You're hot, you're funny, you're cool -- doesn't mean she's in love, it just means she's not an idiot.

Does she think about kissing you? All the time, obviously. Does she wonder how it would feel to have your hands card themselves through her hair? What it would be like to do it in return? Embarrassing to admit to herself, but yeah, it's a pretty persistent daydream. That's totally normal, that comes with like, most forms of attraction. And will she beat the fuck out of people flirting with you at the bar? Abso-fucking-lutely! You can't tell her they didn't have bad intentions, she knows a douchebag when she sees one.

This is one of those things where its obvious to everyone but Ko that she's head over heels for you, and its really only once she realizes that she doesn't have to adhere to society's definition of a relationship that she lets herself come to terms with the fact that fuck it, yeah, she's in love with you.

A future with Ko isn't about gold rings and beige townhouses -- its about living life to the fullest, and making it a better place. Its not rigid dates at five star restaurants or picture perfect bouquets on state-sponsored holidays -- its stumbling over each other at metal shows, kissing under the flashing lights, and long rides through the city. Ko knows what she wants, and she wants all of that with you.

If you accepted her advances before she came to terms with the depth of her affections, there's a pretty good chance that she's just going to ask you to go get food with her right after sex. But like, just you two, you know? On like… a date. You know, if you want. No big deal.

Even though she knows she's allowed to dictate what a relationship is to her… she also knows she's done this a little bit backwards. But hey, no time like the present, right?

Her hands gently roam across your thighs as she patiently waits for your response -- she might flush and start to backpedal if you take too long to respond, but when you say yes? Oh, she beams like the sun. She can't help but press a quick kiss to your lips before you two start scrambling to get dressed and dash off on her bike to the nearest fast food place.

(If the timing is just off and you happen to be on The Rhapsody at the time, you two will probably just raid the fridge, makeout and play video games for the rest of the night, and take up that offer of a date next time you touch down.)

If you managed to resist her charms… well, it's actually not that much different. She's always been a bit flirty with you, but now, there's just a touch more sincerity to it. What was previously just a fun little back and forth between you two slowly morphs into something a little more personal, a little more intimate. More offers to hang out one-on-one; more offers to backpack on her bike; more excuses to reach out to adjust your jacket, your hair, anything.

If you're the type to hold the seat when backpacking, she suddenly becomes very adamant that you hold onto her instead.

Still, its not long before she just bites the bullet and asks you out -- part of her has been pining for ages, even if she didn't have the words to describe it, so why the hell would she drag it out more? She'll ask the same question on the last day of a bounty -- Want to go get something to eat? Just you and me? -- in the handful of hours remaining before you all return to the skies.

And you know what? It's magical. If you told your childhood self that your first date with the love of your life took place while sitting on the curb, eating fast food, they'd probably call you a liar. But God, you can't imagine a better first date.

"Overheat" this, "overclock" that -- you love the kid, truly you do, but you're one more cold morning away from "clocking" him over the head with his own damn gridboy. Ever since he's started moving his tech into the rest of the ship the whole place has been as cold as can be, and needless to say, you're getting a little tired of it.

You curl in on yourself just a bit more, too stubborn to go back to your room for a sweater, before taking a deep sip from your mug. Perfectly smooth, rich coffee hits your tastebuds in an instant, warming you from the inside out as you gaze out of the bay windows and into the mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that makes up this particular stretch of space. Because as cold as it might be this morning, the call of the iridescent heavens before you is too gorgeous to part with for even a second.

Shifting hues of pink and orange dance around one another in an intricate flowing dance, gently parting as you sail through, only to reunite with one another in your next breath. Its all so vibrant that the glimmering stars, burning bright as ever, are just barely visible amongst the backdrop -- you wonder how many of those suns you've seen before, and how many you'll see this year. Its a humbling but exciting thought, and your mind, still a touch foggy with sleep, is quickly lost in the great expanse of the universe and its overwhelming beauty.

No matter how many times you see it, the sight never gets old.

You're so enraptured by the view that you don't even notice the quiet footsteps enter the lounge. They pause for a beat, then two, before moving forwards and into the kitchen. The sound of a mug, gently clinking out of the cupboard; the sound of liquid gently sloshing against ceramic -- its not like you to be so unobservant, but perhaps the sounds are so familiar that they simply blend into the natural background of The Rhapsody. Or maybe the cosmos really is just holding your attention that well, as you fail to sense the pair of sunshine yellow eyes gazing upon you from the threshold just a few moments later.

No, its only once the AC turns back on, sending a cold draft directly down onto you and coaxing a full body shiver from your tired self, that the presence makes themselves known.

Pyke leans against the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles as though he'd already been there for a moment, and simply decided to make himself comfortable -- as casual as ever. His hair is more mussed than usual from sleep, and donned in little more than his gauntlet, an old black tank and sweats, and his signature jacket, it's clear that he's also just starting his day. But despite not expecting him to be up with you this early, you're not startled by his sudden appearance -- just as always, his low tone slots in perfectly to the tranquil scene, like adding the last note to a harmony you never knew was incomplete.

"I take it you're not a fan of the cold?" He nods at the vent above your head when your eyes meet, before taking a deep sip from his own mug.

"No, not particularly."

You lean against the armrest of the couch, this time bringing your legs up to your chest to conserve a little more warmth. Admittedly, it does little to protect you from the icy onslaught of The Rhapsody's advanced cooling systems, but it makes you feel a little bit better in spirit. Another sip of coffee, and you place the mug down on the side table.

He pushes himself off the wall at your response, moving towards you in a leisurely stride, before coming to rest against the back of the couch. The soft material bows against his weight as he leans against it, folding his arms as he joins you in gazing off into the endless expanse.

"And you didn't think about grabbing a jacket?" He asks.

"I thought it wouldn't be so bad once I actually got up and moving," you sigh.

A true statement -- there's a part of you that's set on toughing it out. After all, you've suffered through countless hits to the face and gunshots to the chest -- it's a little embarrassing to be defeated by your own AC unit, no? Yes, part of it is just plain old pride and stubbornness, but it's more than that.

You tilt head towards him and throw a soft smile his way. "But at this point, I think I can just grin and bear it. I know we do this all the time, but it still seems so…"

You pause, casting a wayward glance out the window as you mull your words over, looking for the right one. There's few words that can describe the allure of space, and it takes a moment to sort through your little internal thesaurus to find one that even comes close to its raw majesty. He turns his head ever so slightly to look at you when you fall into silence, sending a few loose strands of that beautiful sunset hair down in front of his face, and when he tosses it all back, the newfound proximity graces you with the brief scent of vetiver and amber. Its not unusual for him to be so close nowadays, and yet, its moments like these that leave you a little heady, a little drunk off of him. And its only then that the word comes to you as your eyes lock once more.

"…Magical."

He meets your gaze, and his lips twitch upwards ever so slightly as he lets out a quiet huff of amusement. Whether its from your stubbornness or your everlasting wonder is hard to tell, but the noise is far from mocking -- if anything, it seems fond. After all, if anyone knows what you mean, it would be Pyke.

"Well, I can't argue with that," he says.

His eyes dart out the bay window one last time, as though contemplating something, before handing you his mug and gesturing towards where you've placed your own. Catching on, you set it down with a quiet "thunk" against the polished glass, but when you look back over, its not the sight you expect. You had assumed he was going to walk around and slot himself in next to you, or was maybe going back to grab something from the kitchen and was leaving his mug with you for safe keeping… but instead, he's started shrugging off his jacket.

Smooth nylon falls away to expose his well-toned biceps, and while he's not making a show of it, it feels almost scandalous to watch as he pulls himself out of one sleeve, and then the other. But before you know it, the garment is being draped over your shoulders, and you're completely enveloped in the experience that is Pyke. The lingering remains of his cologne, a mix of smoke and tobacco, and a scent that's just uniquely him blends together in an intoxicating entanglement of aromas that for all its complexities, can only be described as "home."

You feel your cheeks warm at the simple gesture, and you have to bring your mug to your lips again just to hide the painfully adoring smile that washes over you.

"I'll have to ask Ziggy to keep it cold, if this is how I'm getting treated now," you tease.

"It's been hard enough getting the kid to keep it where it is, I swear he's turning it down a degree every time Rett looks away from the damned thermostat," he gestures for his mug back, and you oblige him. "Don't encourage him."

You choose not to comment on the way his eyes linger on you, or how the corners of his lips ghost upwards when you tug his jacket just a bit tighter around yourself -- a subtle set of movements, only recognizable from how long you've known the Solari. It all sends another wave of fondness through you, and you smile into the rim of your glass as you commit the moment to memory.

You have to play the quiet, almost giddy laughter that bubbles up from you off as a reaction to his last comment as you shoot a look up at him, grinning. "Fair enough. Come on, watch the stars with me."

And wordlessly, he does, moving to join you on the worn couch. The beauty of space stretches ever onwards as you sit together, watching it all go by as you sail on the twisting, flowing streams of aether. If you move closer together as time goes on, neither of you say anything -- there's no need to, not yet. You're sure that the rest of your little family will be up sooner or later, and you'll probably have to give his jacket back (or suffer the teasing of your friends.) But oddly, you don't dread it. Because as magical as things feel right now, something tells you that you have plenty more moments like these in your future. And you're pretty sure that just like space, it'll always be timeless in its wonder.