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"This looks incredible," Derek says as we arrange everything on plates with the same attention to presentation he brings to his social media content, but clearly for our enjoyment rather than external validation.

We settle in the common area to eat, and the first bite confirms that our collaboration has been successful.

The flavors complement each other beautifully, creating something neither of us could have achieved alone.

But more satisfying than the taste is the way Derek focuses entirely on the meal, on our conversation, on the simple pleasure of sharing something we created together.

"So," Derek says between bites, "tell me more about Nereidan agriculture. Do you guys do any kind of fermentation? Preservation techniques?"

"Fermentation is huge on Earth," Derek says, gesturing with his fork.

"Kimchi, sauerkraut, yogurt, cheese. We figured out pretty early that controlled decomposition makes food last longer and taste better.

Plus the gut health benefits are incredible; all those beneficial bacteria help with nutrient absorption and digestion.

Greek yogurt alone is a protein powerhouse. "

"Fascinating. We use similar processes, though primarily for thysa root preservation during deep-water seasons when surface cultivation becomes difficult." I pause, realizing how naturally this information flows. "The fermented root develops complex flavors that complement our grain dishes."

"See, that's exactly what I want to learn about," Derek says, leaning forward with obvious interest. "How do your seasons work? What determines when you can grow things?"

"Our twin moons create tidal cycles that affect both our agriculture and daily routines. During high-tide seasons, we focus more on preserved foods and root vegetables that grow in deeper soil layers."

Derek nods thoughtfully. "So your entire food culture evolved around working with these natural cycles instead of trying to control them. That's actually brilliant from a sustainability perspective."

I find myself smiling at his enthusiasm. "I had not considered it from that angle, but you are correct."

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, both absorbed in the meal we created together and the easy flow of conversation. When Derek finally sets down his empty plate, there's obvious satisfaction in his expression.

"It's going to be an adventure," Derek says eventually, "learning all of this. Building a life in a completely different world."

"Are you concerned about it?" I ask carefully.

Derek considers the question seriously. "A little. But mostly excited. Today made me realize how much of my old life was just... repetitive. Same foods, same routines, same performance every day. This feels like actually living instead of just going through the motions."

The words carry such certainty, such genuine enthusiasm for the changes ahead, that I feel my bioluminescence pulse with contentment. Derek has not just chosen me; he has chosen growth, exploration, the challenge of building something entirely new.

"Besides," Derek continues with a grin that is pure mischief, "I figure if I can make you light up the way you do, I'm probably doing something right."

The deliberate reference to my bioluminescent responses makes heat rise in my cheeks, but Derek's expression is fond rather than teasing. He enjoys my reactions to him, finds pleasure in affecting me so obviously.

"You are quite effective in that regard," I admit.

"Good to know my skills are transferable to interspecies relationships."

The casual confidence in his voice, the way he claims his effect on me without arrogance but with clear satisfaction, reminds me viscerally of why I find him so compelling.

Derek knows his worth, takes pleasure in bringing pleasure to others, and approaches intimacy with the same focused attention he brings to everything else he cares about.

"Come here," Derek says softly, settling back against the seating area and extending his hand toward me.

I move to join him, letting him pull me down beside him until we are pressed together from shoulder to hip. Derek's hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing along my cheekbone as he studies my expression in the soft lighting.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"For what?"

"For being patient while I figured my shit out.

For not pushing me to decide before I was ready.

For making me that comfort food and letting me call Jake and creating the perfect environment for me to swim and process.

" Derek leans closer, his breath warm against my lips.

"For seeing something in me worth waiting for. "

Before I can respond, he kisses me, soft and unhurried but with clear intent. This is different from our earlier kisses; not desperate or uncertain, but settled, committed. Derek is not kissing me because he might lose me, but because he has chosen to keep me.

The kiss deepens gradually, Derek's hand sliding into my hair while his other arm comes around my waist to pull me closer. Through our empathic bond, I feel his contentment, his satisfaction with his choice, his growing desire tempered by genuine affection.

When we break apart, Derek's expression is soft but hungry. "Your room or mine?" he asks with a slight grin.

"Mine has superior environmental controls," I say, attempting to maintain some semblance of diplomatic composure.

Derek's grin widens. "Translation: it's bigger and you want to show off your fancy alien tech."

The dry observation makes me laugh despite myself. "That is... not entirely inaccurate."

"Lead the way, gorgeous."

I stand and offer him my hand, which Derek takes without hesitation. As we walk through the ship's corridors toward my quarters, I notice Derek's anticipation in the way he moves, the slight tension in his grip on my hand.

"So," Derek says as we reach my door, "just so we're clear—this isn't just about the assessment anymore, right? This is us, figuring out what we want to build together?"

"Yes," I tell him, the certainty in my voice surprising even me. "This is us."