THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

"You don't have to call me sir," you point out. "You can if you really want, but I'd rather you just call me Bel."

 

Lycaon shakes his head firmly. "No, I gotta," he says.

 

"If you say so," you shrug. "When the boss wakes up I'll ask about a lunch break. I remember the way to that automat, we can grab some stuff and bring it back here. So... just out of curiosity... why do you have to call me sir?"

 

Lycaon whines and shivers, extremely unhappy at the question. "You're a highblood," he finally says. "I gotta show respect, sir. I can't just say your name. I'd get it dirty with my shit mouth. That's just— that's just— I mean—" he waves between them. "Look at us," he finishes, and gives another convulsive shudder.

 

"Okay, well, I'm not gonna lean on you about it, but I just want you to know I don't think that way. Like, I feel respect is something you have to earn. And I think I'm doing an all right job earning it but you sure haven't earned any disrespect from me. Okay? I don't think your color's dirty. My matesprit's yellow, you know."

 

The brownblood shrugs, clearly convinced some kind of trap is about to be sprung on him. "Whatever you say, sir." He goes back to scrubbing the dirty equipment extra hard, as if to say see? look, i'm very busy, please fuck with me after i'm done.

Before they can continue any more of this depressing conversation, there's a bit of a ruckus from the front office, and they can hear Heinsz groggily complaining at a bunch of newcomers. A few of them eventually wander into the back stockroom to peer at Bel and Lycaon. There's a tall thin greenblood, a trio of twitchy looking rustbloods with hacked-short horns, and a pair of goldbloods with eerily identical horns and faces, though they're different genders.

"Hey, new blood," the green says. She strides over and aggressively puts out a fist for Bel to bump. "How's it hanging?"

 

You complete the fistbump amiably. "Pretty good. I'm Hanbel and this is Lycaon. I guess we're your inventory monkeys for now."

 

"Nice. Nice." She surveys the room. "Well, I gotta assume you didn't have your thumbs up your ass the whole time, since a couple things have somehow managed to get counted and cleaned, so good job, slugger. I'm Chance."

The twin goldbloods have fanned out to investigate the shelves. The rustbloods are still hugging the doorway, looking deeply unnerved at Chance's casual attitude. Chance hikes a thumb over her shoulder at them. "These rusties are some other cathedral transfers. You know 'em?"

 

You shake your head, look to Lycaon to see if he does. And if he wants to admit it, if yes. You really don't want to get into backstories, that's likely to fall apart on you in a hurry.

"Is it okay if we grab something to eat before we get back to it? We've gotten to the end of this rack here, inventory-wise, and we've got about one shelf left to catch up to there with the cleaning."

 

Lycaon won't meet anyone's gaze, and is trying his best to hide behind Bel and the cleaning equipment. Chance looks at Bel measuringly, trying to determine if he's pulling some kind of status bullshit, and says, "Finish that shelf, then you can have fifteen minutes. The closest breakroom's just down the hall."

 

"Cool, thanks." You glance at Lycaon again, and give Chance a pleading look as you make a tentative 'shoo' gesture, trying to indicate that he can't work while being stared at without putting him even farther on the defensive.

(he is trying v hard and being v good and secretly hoping erskin will be proud of him :D)

 

Chance narrows her eyes for a long minute, then stretches out her back and saunters off, collecting the nervous rustbloods and heading off to some other workroom with them. The three of them squeeze around the very outskirts of the room to avoid Bel. When everyone's looking in another direction, Lycaon picks the cleaning supplies up and retreats to the very top of the tallest shelving unit. When Chance comes back into the room, without the rustbloods, she glances at Lycaon's new perch and seems entirely unsurprised.

"All these new lowbloods we got in are more trouble than they're worth," she says to Bel. "I'm a mechanic, not a mousecatcher, y'know? Here's hoping you're still sane. Show me how far along you are with your tablet."

 

Quietly, trying not to project it to Lycaon, you answer as you show her the tablet, "They got smacked around like catnip mice, they're gonna be flinchy for a while. My friend here is a hard worker when he's not freaked out, though." Less sotto voce: "There were a couple things I didn't recognize; I put an asterisk by them so you can check my guesses. It took us about two hours to get this far but that's with learning the system, I think we can get faster."

 

"Cool. You can keep doing that after your break, too. I'll focus my guys on repair and replacement, that takes longer than bean counting. If you get done by lunch— our lunch— we can probably all take awhile to grind more nickle-iron off the pet rock out back. It's good stress relief."

 

You flash a grin. "Sounds like fun. Okay, we're super hungry, so I wanna go earn that break." You hope that's not too rude; you're working hard at this.

 

Chance shrugs, not particularly insulted, and wanders off to go manage the two yellowbloods.

The breakroom, when Bel gets to it, is a small block with a bunch of plastic chairs and a couple coolant storage bins along the wall, plus a sink and a microwave. The storage bins have a mix of generic meal bars, grubloaf slices, and eclectically flavored hive-made paletas. Almost everything is covered in a fine layer of greasy, burnt-smelling black dust.

There's a very large blue-green plant in one corner. Someone has thoughtfully stuck googley eyes onto half a dozen of the leaves.

 

Resisting the urge to waste your fifteen minutes cleaning that nasty black stuff off everything, you collect a meal for yourself and a meal for Lycaon, identical except for the ices; you offer him his pick, and when he hesitates, choice-paralyzed, you narrow it down to two: "Mealworm furikake, or spicy tamarind?"

 

It takes him a very long time to decide, even with two choices, but he eventually picks mealworm, and eats it before anything else. He bolts down the rest of his food nearly without chewing, then fidgets anxiously while Bel eats.

"I'm still hungry, sir," he finally says.

 

"Well, they didn't say there's a limit on portions, and we've got eight minutes left. Go wild." You get him another slice of grubloaf, and tuck away a couple of meal bars for later.

 

He finishes that too, then, daringly, fetches himself another slice of loaf, checking all the while that Bel won't suddenly jump up and punish him for it. When he's done with that, he sighs almost happily, then catches sight of the plant in the corner and goes very still.

"The plant is watching us," he hisses urgently. "Turn the lights off!!"