There were quite a few pros and cons about living in a digital world, Craig soon realized as he and Rick began life in a little program he'd stolen from the mainframe while transferred back into a core. That whole bit was a long story and neither of them really dwelled on it; except for the occasional nightmare Craig had involving medical tables and Rick's slipping away. Usually that simply ended in him waking up in a cold sweat and clinging to Rick just to remember he was alive. At that point, Rick would wake up as well and hold onto him as long as necessary, whispering reassurances until his partner fell back to sleep.

Beyond that, the simulation was actually pretty real. It simulated sensation on the skin, which they found useful very quickly after a few hours of investigating the program. It simulated smell and even taste, which was an interesting feature, considering they did not technically have to eat. Simulated hunger pangs were there along with the need to bathe, which neither of them minded, anywa. Definitely, one of the better things was simulated food; they did not need to shop, gather, hunt, whatever it was people on the outside had to do; it was simply a programming script to make a dinner or whatever else they wanted.

Rick in his general enthusiastic nature learned how to do this quickly and tried something new every opportunity he could. Craig was repulsed by the idea of a lot of the food he tried, but Rick ate everything happily good or bad and even managed to convince the other man that being picky wasn't quite as fun as it sounded. Today it was raw oysters with some kind of garnish that looked about as unappetizing as Craig could've imagined.

"C'mon, s'not gonna hurtcha," Rick insisted, offering one of the shelled oysters.

"Quite simple for you to say with a simulated stomach of steel," Craig scoffed, attempting to push Rick's large hand away, but Rick kept stock still, stubborn as always.

"Swear t'god yer worse than a kid," he shook his head and slurped the offered oyster down, making Craig shudder visibly.

"I don't feel the least bit bad about wasting digital food," the blonde replied with a sniff, "Besides, oysters are an aphrodisiac and you don't need anything encouraging you."

"First time I heard y'complainin', sweetheart," Rick's grinned lazily with a drop of his voice.

"R-Regardless! I'm allowed to be a little selective about what I eat," he insisted.

"An aphrodisiac, y'say?" Rick was scratching his chin with a look Craig knew meant mischief.

"You heard me right," Craig deadpanned, "Now may I please summon myself something a trifle more edible?"

"Oh not 'nymore, darlin', we're gonna make a trade, y'see," Rick was already planning and that didn't spell out anything good.

"I highly doubt you could have anything I really wanted, Rick, don't try to lie," Craig huffed, crossing his arms.

Rick leaned in his chair at their dinner table, running his hands through his hair in the very picture of thinking. Craig stabbed at the pasta in front of him, watching him warily until the legs of his chair hit the floor with a thud.

"Hah, I got one. Y'know 'm better at this whole whippin' up food thing, right?" Rick's expression couldn't have been more dangerously excited.

"…I'll concede you managed to pick out the programming for certain foods more adeptly than I bothered to find out," Craig muttered, sensing the direction this was going.

"'N I betcha don't think I've been payin' attention t'th'kinds'a things y'like, right?"

"I don't assume anything, but I'd be surprised to find you paid close attention, yes."

Rick's mouth twisted into a triumphant grin, "Strawberries, y'ain't so good at makin'em, but y'keep tryin'. Wanna say y'like'em jus' plain'r with those weird hotcake things?"

Craig's mouth was drawn into a straight line, "Crepes," he supplied.

"Yeah, those things! 'N I'll tell ya a secret, I've been workin' on gettin'em perfect. Nice big juuuicy strawberries, y'know? Plump n'red, not too sweet, like y'like it."

"I don't believe you," Craig said airily, "Prove it."

"If I make it like y'like it, y'gotta try th'oysters," Rick challenged, grin getting wider.

"That's so unlikely that I'll agree," Craig huffed.

Silence fell in the dining room while Rick's eyes were shut tightly, rewriting part of the script in the kitchen. Craig was surprised to find the first time that Rick was quick, clean, and efficient. They only had to figure out how to get the table leg out of the floor once due to a glitching accident. When Rick opened his eyes again, a strawberry filled crepe sat on the table in front of Craig who eyed it suspiciously.

"Here, try it n'see," Rick said with a cheeky grin, passing a fork.

Now he was just showing off, Craig thought, taking the fork and spearing a ripe looking red strawberry. Cautiously, he smelled it and found it smelled like a sweet, ripe strawberry; with only a moment's more hesitation, he ate it, chewing thoughtfully before his eyes got a little wide and he looked over at Rick who had the biggest grin on his face.

"So? I win'r kin I throw that away?"

Craig swallowed the strawberry in his mouth, regarding Rick's smug grin with slight frown. Delicately, he laid the fork back down next to the plate, taking his time folding his hands in his lap.

He sighed, letting his shoulders droop, "Yes, you win and you knew it."

Rick leaned over the table and snagged one of Craig's carefully folded hands, drawing it toward him to kiss the knuckles, "Y'don't gotta try'em if y'don't want, 'm jus' teasin' ya."

"No, we made a trade and you supplied your end, I shall fulfill mine," Craig huffed, drawing his hand away from his grinning partner.

A shell was offered to him and he gingerly made sure the meat was detached from the shell with his fork, occasionally eyeing Rick next to him, who was watching intently. He shifted the shell from one hand to the other, unsure of how to tackle the removal in the proper manner.

"Jus' like this," Rick instructed, holding up another of the half-shells with the wider part toward his mouth.

Craig turned the shell around, emulating his over enthused dinner partner. Rick tipped the shell, letting the meat fall into his mouth, chewing while he turned and watched Craig do the same. He chewed once, twice, wincing a little at the odd texture he wasn't anticipating, and then quickly swallowed.

"So? Not s'bad is it?"

The face said everything, still drawn up into a deep, disgusted grimace. Rick bit back a chuckle, taking the empty shell from Craig's thin fingers, tossing it away. It was replaced with the fork for the strawberry crepes; Craig immediately ate some of the crepe and cream to get the feeling of that utterly shudder-worthy texture out of his mouth.

"Never again," Craig muttered, hunching over his crepes grumpily.

"Nah, tomorrow 'm workin' on sushi, I think y'might like that better," Rick scooted his chair closer.

It was pretty obvious why Rick was edging in on his space and Craig almost hunched further over his crepes, protectively. Instead, he took one of the bigger pieces of strawberry and offered it the dark-haired man, tentatively, who immediately took it and chewed.

"Aw, could'a made it better," he laughed, prompting Craig to throw a napkin at him.