"Oh." And it probably says a lot more about Barge life than it does about Omar's fortitude that he accepts this with no more than a slightly disgruntled shrug.
"Least we get to keep Christmas, then... right?" he offers.
"You still like your present?" he asks hopefully, reaching out to brush his fingers over Ricki's back. If not, he thinks, he may very well have to steal another one.
Or... just ask the Admiral, now that that's a thing. Can't he just stick to the stealing?
"I'm a little peeved at it right now, but I think by morning it'll be funny."
He admits, muffled into the blankets, reaching out and making a grabby motion at him with his hand, trying to find him without looking to squeeze his knee.
He chuckles, tugging on Ricki's hand to urge him to wriggle closer. "We can do, but that ain't really what I had in mind, honey."
He tugs again, then leans over him, smoothing back his shirt collar to kiss the nape of his neck. "Maybe something to ease your troubled spirits right now."
"You ain't necessarily have to do all that much," he teases, kissing the same spot, letting his hand go to stroke his back and side.
"Although I think you underestimating yourself, too," he murmurs, smirking against his skin. "Your bruises had bruises the first time you was over here for coffee."
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Ricki wonders, giving him a kiss on the cheek before heading for the bed, to fall into it.
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Says Ricki, wryly, obviously not holding it against him, giving the way he rolls over to curl up against his chest.
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"I didn't expect it to have no burglar alarm on it," he protests.
Or completely steal it. Absolutely stolen.
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Yes, ate it.
"My slow descent into horror has been arrested."
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"He ate my painting?"
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He lifts his head up from his face-down sprawl, just enough to make eyecontact.
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"Least we get to keep Christmas, then... right?" he offers.
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Agrees Ricki, dropping his head back down, with a groan.
"Christmas isn't cancelled."
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Or... just ask the Admiral, now that that's a thing. Can't he just stick to the stealing?
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He admits, muffled into the blankets, reaching out and making a grabby motion at him with his hand, trying to find him without looking to squeeze his knee.
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Despite the poltergeist situation, he grins. "Or, you know-- let me know if there something I need to do to make it up to y'all."
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Says Ricki, who is never one to turn a carte blanche like that down.
"Coffee in bed."
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He tugs again, then leans over him, smoothing back his shirt collar to kiss the nape of his neck. "Maybe something to ease your troubled spirits right now."
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He admits, though he is ever so slightly more lax, sighing pleasantly as Omar keeps touching him.
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"Although I think you underestimating yourself, too," he murmurs, smirking against his skin. "Your bruises had bruises the first time you was over here for coffee."
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He says, warmly, stretching out just a little more.
"I was a wreck. I'm amazed you let me through the door."
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He lets his hand settle on the small of Ricki's back, thumb rubbing gently back and forth over the curve of his spine through his shirt.
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Ricki admits, stretching out just a little bit more.
"If you can drive it off you'll be my hero forever?"