THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

This sets off a bit of a slapfight, but again, you freeze awkwardly when your head catches up with your instincts.

"Okay no, stop that. On some level my brain thinks you're my Erskin and if we keep tussling..."

 

"Oh, right." You frown thoughtfully. "This is a bit strange, in regards your sexual exclusivity prefence, isn't it?"

 

"Yeah." Your stomach's a bit fluttery, but you're trying to sound as calm as you can. "And also the thing where I'm not the Bel you're expecting, and you're not the Erskin I'm expecting, so it'd get super, super awkward." You thoughtfully chew another mouthful. "Plus you'd probably break my pelvis or something, expecting me to be --" You wave a hand above your horn prongs to indicate how tall Galley said other-you is.

 

You snicker into your beer. "Yes, you've always been a bit smaller on the inside than the outside, haven't you? I'd advise against letting our Helmsman at your bits, you'd probably break everything on up to your ribs."

 

Your ears flame. "He's not a seadweller, genius, he's not strong enough to hurt me." You are trying not to focus on how the Erskin in front of you is probably strong enough to wad up a car like a soda can.

 

You really, really hope that your Kadros was this much of a transparently hormonal mess when he was nine. You will never let him live it down.

"That's what the last six to ten of Galley's ranking officers thought too, dear boy," you tell small Bel, deeply enjoying his wide-eyed, blue-faced apprehension. "And they all got turned into a series of par— particularly incorrec' carbon smears."

You knock back the rest of your beer and go to raid his fridge again, lurching just a bit. Even if you can't finish the wake in company, you can still get properly done in. You sit back down, gnaw the cap off, and politely offer him a taste.

 

Against your better judgement, you take a defiant swig. "Of course he could toast me, but he wouldn't, is the point. Whereas you -- exactly how big is Other Me? Do you have a photo?" You've lost track of your argument, thinking about what kind of you it would take to match this Erskin.

 

"Hmm..." You fish (hee!) your phone out and flip through the album, then grin widely and show him the ridiculous selfie set Kadros had taken of the two of you all dolled up gothic and fooling about over trays of bao and stacks of fancy glasses.

"There! He's sitting down, of course, and I'm a bit more, ah, slender, than usual. But that was a fun night. I was just out of this chemo sort of operation, so we had an insane amount of expensive liquor at Murphey's and he put me in a sex coma. My matesprit was ever so jealous. She hates when I make extravagantly terrible life decisions without her."

 

That can't possibly be you. He's got shoulders like a mountain, a jawline that belongs in movies, his horns have four prongs and are tall enough to interfere with air traffic. He looks more like Gorecrow's portrait than like you, except for one thing... "Why are we goths?"

 

You give him as blank and innocent a look as trollishly possible. "Commander Kadros has always been goth," you say. "Really, it's a bit jarring that you aren't."

 

You snort and relax. Apparently you can tell when this one's bullshitting too. "That'd be more convincing if we weren't in his quarters, which are completely devoid of gothic decoration, Captain Aspera." God, that's weird to say. "Anyway, the sex coma thing is a problem we have in both timelines, apparently. For extremely fun values of 'problem'."

 

You take your beer back, completely pleased at his use of your proper title. "Sex comas aren't problems, young Kadros," you say with grave, elderly wisdom. "They are solutions."

 

"I think," you retort with equal seriousness, "they are goals. Which are achieved via lots of hard work and not nearly enough haterade breaks." Dammit, just when you'd stopped blushing.

 

You have a good gigglefit over that, and elbow him fondly in the face. "Speaking of dehydration," you say, once you're about done, "d'you need a drink? Tea, I mean? We could put on a pot and watch some movies." You brighten up as the idea really hits you. "I say! You could see all the sequels and things that haven't come out yet for you. Or we could see what didn't get made here— or, or there? It'd be science!"

 

"Yes and yes," you agree enthusiastically. "Show me what movies you like when you like movies, because my you just digs in his heels and sourfaces at anything I show him." You frown. "But don't you have a ship to captain?"

 

"Kadros, I just spent the last two weeks of clown invasion captaining the absolute living shit out of this dump, everyone can damn well use their own initiative for a day's worth of letting off some steam." You lever yourself upright and have to catch your balance against the back of his chair. "Mmn... I suppose I could leave you be, if that was meant to be some sort of hint?"

 

"No! I mean. No. It's just. Weird to see you being all like... responsible, and not traumatized and avoidant and basically a spring-loaded claymore mine of general delinquency."

 

You give him a wry salute with your bottle and make your way off to his couch, flopping down on it with a grateful groan. Making out by a campfire is nice enough, but the invention of cushions has a lot to recommend it.

"I'm a delinquent!" you protest, affecting stung pride. "I'm the longest-lived captain of the Sunslammer to date and everyone hates my smug purple guts for it. I have been described as hardcore."

 

"They're not synonyms," you scold as you join him. "I can tell you don't make terrible decisions like my Erskin does, because you haven't been kicked out of the Fleet or exploded by Grownup Galley or sucked dry like a juice box by a parade of undead women." You are noticeably bitter about that last item.

 

"Goodness. It sounds like your Erskin is having a great deal of fun." You remember the tea. "Oh, hell. The tea. Go... do..." you wave a hand. "Do the thing. Tea's in the left cupboard. Kettle's automatic. Mugs are by the sink. I'm not getting up again."