Project Pomona
Sticking their noses in everyone’s business had born unexpected fruit, mused Helios as he watched the round peach of Deimos’ naked butt bouncing gently up the ladder. They could have worn clothes, but they’d agreed that not having to wash them would conserve water. They could have turned on the sprinkler system to water the vegetables on the top shelves, but um, water conservation. Yeah.
Project Pomona was a plum posting, normally given to officers recovering from minor injuries: a cozy satellite greenhouse full of every fruit, vegetable, and herb you could name and a lot you couldn’t, and nothing much to do but take care of them and look up how you were supposed to eat them.
Nothing official to do, that is. Their budding relationship had blossomed rapidly, and Deimos’ sharp trowel of a mind had unearthed uses for fruits and vegetables that were almost alarming.
Helios watched appreciatively as Deimos bent over further and further, stretching to reach the carrots in the back. The protruding posterior wiggled temptingly, and Helios’ itchy trigger finger couldn’t take it anymore. He punched the sprinkler button and bolted, hearing the slap of wet feet in hot pursuit. With any luck Deimos would bring a carrot.