Krem laughed and grabbed the utensils for them. He grabbed two spoons, one for each of them to use in the soup, and then a fork each. It didn't seem to make sense to worry about cross contamination between the food, really, or anything else. They shared kisses; Krem doubted Thomas was going to care if he used the same fork to eat from each of the containers.

He trailed Thomas back out to the living room, pulling the coffee table close to the couch so that they would be able to curl up on it and reach the box once it was settled. The last time he'd been here, they'd curled up together on the couch as well, but this already seemed a much better memory, much warmer and more tender.

"Pizza is delicious, and sometimes I don't care that I feel a bit like I'm suffering afterwards." It did sound good that Thomas had his little indulgences though.