The fluttering stopped almost immediately as he leaned in with surprise and disbelief and a slow grin. "Seriously?" He gave a little tug at the edge of a bag and tried to look in, despite the nervous attempts by Hermann to withdraw the bags.

You're going to make someone a very good housewife husband someday, he refused to voice, even teasingly. He would not open that can of worms back up and he fidgeted, his finger feeling really bare where his pinkie ring should have been. Patience. Right, yes, he could do this. He could wait and not scare Hermann away.

"You spoil me," he said instead, easing a hand over Hermann's nervous clutch on the bags. "What did I do to earn this? No no, don't answer that--but I haven't had spätzle since I lived at home, I--" His thumb grazed the pulse of Hermann's wrist. Home. This was home, now. Not here specifically, not this world, but the home--with his father and his uncle--had been a distant memory for some time and Home had become this: their lab, the corner of the mess hall where they squabbled and people gave them a wide berth, their apartment, Hermann's bedroom... "Thank you," he finished off quietly. "I'd like that. If this is courtship, I'm kind of liking it." 'Kind of,' what an understatement.