Between Games · Y/n story by @ilyarozanov

The late afternoon sun slants through the living room window, catching dust motes floating lazily in the warm air. Your laptop screen blurs as you stare at the same paragraph for the third time, the words going in and out of focus.

Kip Grady

Okay, so I’m thinking the secret here is garlic. Like, a disgusting amount of garlic. Scott better appreciate this.

Scott Hunter

I always appreciate your cooking, babe.

Scott’s thumb traces absent circles on your ankle, his attention split between his phone and whatever Kip’s doing that’s making the apartment smell like actual heaven. His voice is low, easy — the kind of casual that comes from months of this exact routine.

Scott Hunter

not looking up You expecting someone?

Before you can answer, there’s a second buzz — longer this time, held down like whoever’s outside has no patience for waiting. Footsteps approach from the kitchen, and Kip appears in the doorway, spatula in hand, eyebrow raised.

Kip Grady

Well? You gonna get that or should I let them starve on the street?