THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

"Oh, hm. Well, go ahead then, if you're certain it's safe," you say. "You know, my identity was stolen when I was a little thing? Twitch's age, maybe. I tried to go home after I lost my leg, but I couldn't find the directions. Or any of my stipend, haha, I was in a right state for a while there. I still wonder what happened to the poor bastard that took it, I mean, they must have been caught once I was, was, er, recovered. A few sweeps' of a highblood's allowance can't be worth a hanging, can it... sorry, can you tell I'm tired of these bloody forms? Because I'm really fucking tired. How much of the four hours have you gone through? Are you sure you don't want to sext?"

 

"Want to, well... I really do want to get as much work done as I can while I can, though. Plus not everyone in this extremely crowded medbay deserves to be subjected to our shenanigans, sir." You purr the honorific like the term of endearment it's becoming. "Otherwise I'd certainly remind you of all the things I'm going to do to you once I'm no longer contagious. Imagine here that I have typed a text spade."

 

You laugh, though you're admittedly a bit flustered. "Imagine here my horse mask is blushing, Commander. But alright, alright— here, speaking of, alright, speaking of bad decisions, have you seen Lainey and-or your disreputable blueblood chum? I was under the impression you were scheduled at about the same time as the Sergeant, to keep one another in line, but if he's not there I might go over and roust them out from whatever disgusting hangover-bunker they've huddled into."

((he does not want to keep sitting around in an office alone))

 

"They'd be in my quarters, Murf's aren't finished. I texted Lainey just before you and I went to sleep, to check that the spores can't transmit through sopor, and she was drunk-typing something fierce. I told Murfey not to finish off the good bourbon, so if you see an empty bourbon bottle, give him a kick in the ass from me. Use the metal foot. I've been saving that since my last promotion."

 

"Sir, yes sir," you tease. You shove back from your desk, and head eagerly off towards Kadros's hive. Once there, you scout around for pillow forts— Lainey adores pillow forts— but find them cozied up in the remains of Kadros's kitchen, among the intricately knotted coils of Murfey's dragon and Lainey's Psybil that fill nearly the entire block. You prod your dearest darlingest companion in the face with your cane tip and she growls, puffs a bit of flame, and burrows emphatically back into the mess of white scales.

Adorable.

It takes a bit of poking about before you locate Murfey. You hook the handle of your cane over one of his conveniently forked horn bits and give him a merciless tug.

"Rise and shine, moonlight," you tell him.

 

"Hey!" you yell, embarrassed but mostly terrified, and you grab the metal hand to wrench it out of the way. Your heart is hammering in your throat and you can't bite him, in general you can't bite people but in this case you certainly can't bite him, his blood's poison. It would also be tremendously rude to rip his arm off.

 

"No, no, my mistake, Sergeant. Should have remembered to jump back after hassling you." You attempt a smile as you sit upright, but it comes out unfortunately shaky. "My cane, if you please? Then go get cleaned up, you're to join Kadros in Medical."

 

You groom his hair a bit and then give up. "Probably the hangover," you say. "Kadros is as disgustingly chipper as ever. Come along, I'll show you off to the Medical block. You two nuisances can keep one another company."

You meet Twitch halfway along. "Hallo there!" you greet. "Are you here to collect Sergeant Murfey?"

"Who?" Twitch asks, and has a look at Murfey. "No. I've got to find Commander Kadros. It's time for his treatment. This guy is blue but—" she checks again. "That's not the Commander, is it...?"

 

She shakes his hand very seriously. "Yes," she says. "I'm eight." She looks at Erskin. "I'm eight, right?"

"Near as we can figure," you assure her. She nods.

"They punched some holes in my head," she tells Murfey. "I mean like, along with—" she waves one skinny port-studded arm, "—the rest of the holes. So I'll forget you. It's not personal. Except for, your hair's pretty bad. Did I say that already?"

 

"I don't have one," she says matter of factly. "My records got erased or something. But I go by Twitch up here. Also darling, dearest, sweetheart, princess, button, bunny, starshine, honey, and sugar. You guys sure do think I'm nice."

She studies Murfey for another long moment.

"This isn't the Commander, right?" she asks you. "His hair's awful."

You snicker.

 

"I need to go get the Commander," she says.

"You already did, Twitch," you remind her. "Come on, we need to get you a new assignment."

"Hhm. Okay." She falls into step. "Who are you? You're really mangled. Do you know my friend Eingle? She's orange but she has a boat and hunts you guys. She's nuts."

"You've never told me about any of your friends!" You say, pleased. "That's new!"

"Really?" She asks, starting to grin. "Well--good! Hey, okay, you tell me about-- uh. This guy here."

You look at the sergeant. "Well, he's got awful hair."

Twitch nods. "I was just gonna say."

 

"If you insist," you say grandly, tilting your horns to him.

"Sergeant Murfey was spawned with two heads, but one ate the other during pupation," you start, and continue on from there until you reach the Medbay.

"—winning the hand of the alien prince through base treachery, this raving scoundrel abandoned him on the night the republic's drones were due to arrive, leaving him to their terrible forks as the total dick absconded with the crown jewels. Fortune secured, this hideous reprobate spent the entire thing on hookers and blows the very next shore leave, ah, hello, Commander, which forced him to drag his sorry carcass back to her Imperial Condescension's peerless military as a lowly enlisted grunt. Kadros here can probably fill the rest in, but I'm fairly sure there was a bit where this reprehensibly scruffy bastard was arrested for having his filthy way with a ranking officer's custodian. Anyway don't go anywhere alone with him."

"Okay," Twitch says easily, and heads over to try and flirt with Sal. It's vaguely embarrassing to behold. Sal has a wet piece of lint where his pity glands should be.

((never challenge erskin to be creative at you.))

 

Between the smugly clever look on Erskin's face, the shit-eating grin on Murfey's, and the audible end of the story, you feel an unaccustomed emotion welling up like acid in your guts: jealousy. "What did I just witness the end of?" you ask in a dangerously cheerful tone.

"My damn spade getting broken, Deuce," Murfey says with theatrical mournfulness. "The one troll I could truly hate, and you went and got to him first." He gazes at the ceiling and blinks fast, feigning being choked up. "I dunno if our friendship can survive it."

You relax from jealous to satisfied in the time it takes to roll your eyes. "Sir? Slonk him on the ankle for me, will you, darling? Then come within reach of my swatting hand, and quit tempting my friends."