Page 26

Kav'eth

Derek emerges from the pool area first, water still dripping from his hair as he reaches for a towel. When I surface and pull myself out of the water, I notice Derek's eyes tracking over my body with obvious appreciation. He bites his lip slightly, then seems to catch himself.

"Focus," he mutters to himself, but his gaze lingers on my chest, my arms, the water streaming down my skin. "Stare at the gorgeous naked alien later."

The frank assessment, delivered with Derek's characteristic directness, sends an unexpected thrill through me.

I am accustomed to being evaluated for diplomatic effectiveness, intellectual capability, professional competence.

But this kind of open, appreciative attention to my physical form is entirely foreign and surprisingly affecting.

Derek notices my reaction and grins. "Sorry, not sorry. You're distracting when you're wet."

The casual confidence in his voice, the way he claims his attraction without embarrassment, makes my bioluminescence pulse with warmth. Derek finds me desirable and sees no reason to hide that fact.

I reach for my own towel, acutely aware of Derek's continued attention as I dry myself. "I am... not accustomed to such direct appreciation."

"Really?" Derek's eyebrows rise with surprise. "That's a crime. You're incredible to look at."

The simple statement, delivered without artifice or exaggeration, creates heat that has nothing to do with the environmental controls. Derek sees my body as something worth admiring, worth wanting, and he expresses that desire with the same straightforward honesty he brings to everything else.

Derek steps closer then, his expression growing more serious. "Hey. Before we do anything else, I need to say something."

"Of course."

"Thank you." Derek's hands settle on my waist, warm and steady. "For giving me the time I needed to work through everything. For not pushing me to make a decision while I was still reeling. For being exactly what I needed without me having to ask for it."

The sincerity in his voice makes warmth spread through me. "Derek—"

"I mean it." He pulls me into a proper embrace, his arms coming around me securely. "I know that couldn't have been easy, watching me freak out and call my ex and question everything. But you let me process it my way, and that... that means everything."

I hold him close, feeling how right this is; Derek being honest about what he needs, expressing gratitude, not expecting anything in return but genuinely appreciating what I've given him.

"You are worth waiting for," I tell him quietly.

Derek tightens his hold on me for a moment before pulling back to meet my eyes. "Come on," he says with a renewed grin. "I'm starving, and all that emotional revelation really works up an appetite."

The casual comment, delivered with a slight grin, makes relief flood through me. This is the Derek I fell in love with; direct, a little sarcastic, comfortable in his own skin. The moping, guilt-ridden version from earlier was necessary for his growth, but I much prefer this one.

"What did you have in mind?" I ask.

"Cooking. Together this time." Derek moves toward the food preparation area with purpose. "I want to make something with you, not just for you or watch you make something for me. Like... a team effort."

The concept is appealing in ways I had not anticipated. Nereidan meal preparation is typically individual and efficient, but the idea of creating something together, combining our different knowledge and preferences, feels significant beyond simple nutrition.

"I should mention," I say as I join him at the synthesizer, "we do not typically consume animal proteins. Our agricultural systems focus primarily on plant cultivation; grains, vegetables, fruits, various legumes."

Derek pauses in his examination of the available options, and I brace myself for frustration or resistance. Instead, his expression grows thoughtful.

"Interesting. What about dairy? Like yogurt or cheese?"

"We have analogous products derived from certain plants, though they are... different from what you may be accustomed to."

"Okay." Derek nods slowly, and I can practically see his mind working through the challenge. "So if I want to make something with decent protein content, I need to think differently. What if I used Greek yogurt as a base for a sauce? Mixed with herbs and maybe some kind of acid for brightness?"

His willingness to adapt, to work within new parameters rather than insisting on familiar solutions, makes my chest warm with something that might be pride.

"That sounds... creative," I tell him honestly. "What would you serve such a sauce with?"

"That depends on what you can make. You mentioned grains—do you guys have something like rice or quinoa? And bread?"

I access the synthesizer's more extensive options, scrolling through the various grain preparations. "This one," I say, indicating a selection, "is quite common. We typically prepare it with aromatic herbs."

"What's the texture like when it's cooked?" Derek asks, leaning closer to examine the raw grain. "And how long does it take?"

"Similar to what you might call... small pearls? Slightly chewy. The preparation time is approximately twenty of your minutes."

Derek nods thoughtfully. "That sounds like it would work well with roasted vegetables. What about bread? Can you make something flatbread-style?"

"Yes, using keth flour. It has a flavor that is..." I pause, searching for the right comparison. "Nutty, perhaps? I am not certain of the Earth equivalent."

"Perfect." Derek grins, and the expression is so purely him—confident, excited about a challenge, ready to dive in—that I feel my bioluminescence pulse with satisfaction. "You handle the grains and bread, I'll work on vegetables and the sauce."

We move around the food preparation area with surprising coordination, each focused on our respective tasks but aware of the other's movements. Derek works with the synthesized vegetables, examining their properties and asking about Nereidan varieties I describe to him.

"So this one is similar to Earth spinach?" he asks, holding up a leafy green with subtle purple veining.

"I believe so, based on your descriptions. Though it is somewhat heartier." I pause, remembering what I know about its preparation. "And it maintains its... quality better when cooked at higher temperatures."

"Excellent." Derek sets the vegetable aside and reaches for another. "And this root thing?"

" Thysa root. Sweet when raw, develops a more complex flavor when roasted. Very... substantial. Filling."

I watch Derek absorb this information, his expression focused but enthusiastic. This is clearly an environment where he thrives; learning about nutrition and optimal preparation methods, problem-solving around ingredients and flavor combinations.

"Your people really figured out the whole plant-based nutrition thing," Derek says as he begins preparing what appears to be a complex vegetable medley. "On Earth, getting complete proteins without animal products requires a lot more planning."

"Millennia of agricultural development focused specifically on nutritional density rather than convenience," I explain, working the keth flour into a proper dough consistency. "When your entire species depends on efficient resource utilization, food systems evolve accordingly."

Derek pauses in his chopping to look at me. "That's actually really smart. I'm looking forward to learning about it - how you guys figured out optimal nutrition without all the trial and error we went through on Earth."

The enthusiasm in his voice, his genuine interest in understanding rather than simply adapting to our food systems, makes my bioluminescence pulse with satisfaction.

Derek returns to his preparation with what seems like renewed focus. "Besides, having someone to learn from helps."

The casual comment, delivered while he efficiently dices vegetables with obvious skill, fills me with quiet satisfaction. He is not just accepting the practical realities of joining my world; he is actively looking forward to exploring them with me.

I form the flatbread dough into proper portions and begin cooking them on the heated surface, enjoying the familiar rhythm of the task while remaining aware of Derek's movements beside me.

He has begun constructing his sauce, combining Greek yogurt with herbs and what appears to be acid from citrus-like fruit, tasting and adjusting with the same methodical precision he brings to his physical training.

"Try this," Derek says, offering me a small spoon of his creation.

The sauce is bright and complex, the yogurt providing richness while the herbs and acid create layers of flavor that would indeed complement the nutty grain and vegetables beautifully.

But more than the taste itself, I am struck by the gesture; Derek seeking my opinion, wanting to ensure our combined meal will please both of us rather than simply showcasing his own skills.

"Excellent," I tell him honestly. "The flavor profile will work well with the grains."

Derek grins, looking pleased but not surprised. "Good. I was thinking we could serve the vegetables over the grain, with the sauce on the side so you can control how much you want."

The consideration for my preferences, the way he has structured the meal so we can both enjoy it our way, shows real thoughtfulness.

This is not the Derek who would prepare elaborate meals for social media while giving his partner distracted attention.

This is someone who genuinely wants me to enjoy what we're creating together.

The grain finishes cooking with perfect texture, and my flatbreads achieve the proper balance of crispy exterior and tender interior. Derek's vegetables are properly cooked but retain good texture and color, and his sauce has developed even more complexity as the flavors melded.