Larry found Ahkmenrah out back on the loading dock eating an orange. He didn't go out to join him right away, but leaned a hip on the doorway and simply watched as Ahkmenrah neatly peeled the fruit, sectioned it out precisely, put the first one to his mouth, took a slow bite, chewed, closed his eyes, swallowed, and licked the remaining drops of juice from his lips (in a move that almost had Larry doing some lip-licking himself).
He'd eaten another section by the time Larry finally left the door and sat down next to him, slinging an arm around Ahkmenrah and tucking his chin into the pharaoh's shoulder. "That looks good."
Wordlessly, Ahkmenrah held up a section. Larry opened his mouth and Ahkmenrah fed him the piece. The orange burst into marvelous flavor on his tongue - the tree it had come from had been shipped from Morocco itself, along with five others, for an upcoming North African exhibit - and he hummed a little with enjoyment.
Ahkmenrah had turned his head slightly and was watching Larry out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, he said, "The trees smelled exceedingly fragrant. I'm confident Dr. McPhee will forgive the theft of one orange among dozens--"
"Oh, he won't notice. There's plenty to go around. And yes," Larry said to Ahkmenrah's raised eyebrow, "Dexter's locked up for the night."
"Are you sure?"
"Come on, give me a little credit here. It's been, what, six months since he's given me trouble? Okay, more trouble than I can handle," he amended when the eyebrow went up again.
Ahkmenrah's skeptical expression broke into a small, amused smile, and Larry couldn't help himself with the kiss. He tasted, not too surprisingly, like oranges.
"Mmm," Ahkmenrah murmured when they separated. "Oranges."
"Funny," Larry said, "you read my mind," and kissed him again.
