THE SPACE NAVY AU (18+)

Galley opens the door after a minute, just as Bel's about to give up and retreat. He's in his hammock, swinging himself agitatedly and chewing on a corner of his brick toy.

"Sorry," he says gruffly. "You can come in."

 

"Thanks," you say with a tired smile. "I'm worried about Erskin and apparently it's causing me to make a nuisance of myself." You take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze of greeting. "You look a bit fussed as well. The Captain's illness, or something else? Anything I can help with?"

 

"Mnnghrf," Galley goes, and resumes chewing on the toy. "One of Whitey's new guys came aboard high and passed out in here. Didn't see them coming until they were in. I was watching all the needles get stuck in the Captain. Which was funny."

He looks over at Bel apprehensively. "If you're going to flip out about that do it outside here, please."

 

You try to smooth your furrowed brow, but without much success. "Flip out, not so much, but I'm a bit worried that they were able to get in. They didn't hurt you or, or make demands of you?"

 

"No. No. They were just lost. I think. I told them regulations. No one's allowed to hurt me. The Captain's policy is that recreational use of subordinates by superiors constitutes unacceptable physical and mental distress. So that's not allowed either. I was going to blow them up, but they passed out. Twitch took them away instead. "


He squeezes Bel's fingers, then bursts out with, "But neither of you will retain command. You or Lainey. I'm too large, even if I'm a shit posting. I'm a fucking carrier! And the fastest the Lieutenant-Commander's ever killed a superior officer off has been two weeks. What are we going to do?"

 

Much as you want to reassure him that everything will be fine, Erskin will be fine, you can't blame him for worrying, not with how worried you've been yourself. And he's got even more reason to worry; he relies on Erskin's protection far more than you do. "If Sigmah can't heal him, we'll have to work out a way to protect him, first thing. I'm not letting some stranger assassinate him just because he was Captain before. As for a new superior officer... we'll train them or get rid of them. Murfey and Whitey aren't as established yet as I'd like them to be, but they are valuable allies, and you and Lainey and I are no pushovers. Against all of us, even the most arrogant seadweller would have to reconsider making trouble, right?"

You gently thumb his hair back from his temple and kiss his brow. "I'll stick with you no matter what."

 

"Well, you're fucking stupid and you've got awful taste, so none of that is technically a reassurance," Galley points out. "I mean, uh. But. Thank you." He tentatively puts his head on Bel's shoulder, while the blueblood's leaned in close.

"Huh. You sound really wet inside," he comments. "This makes logical sense but I completely failed to anticipate it." He touches the side of Bel's throat curiously, feeling for the pulse with his fingers.

 

"Yes, I'm a great soggy bag of blood and organs," you smile. "How you manage to be so charming about pointing it out is a mystery to me." His fingers are warm on your throat, and he can probably feel how your pulse accelerates with his closeness. His hair smells wonderful, like ozone and cheap detergent and red pity and general Galleyness.

Resting your arms around his waist, you take comfort in his closeness. You might not be able to promise he won't lose the only captain who ever treated him right, but at least he has to know you're not lying about standing by him. Even if you get reassigned, you'll pull some kind of shenanigans so you can stay. You're not sure what. But something. And even if Erskin ends up blinded and deafened by sensory static indefinitely and can't resume command, you won't let him be culled, openly or secretly. You're determined not to lose anyone.

 

"Do you want to— play with anything?" Galley asks after awhile. "I'm not really. Set up for company, uh. But I've got some games and stuff. You liked construction blocks."

 

You kind of just want to sit there and hug him, but you don't suppose you're being very entertaining. You could probably both use the distraction. "Sure, let's build stuff. Do you have those little sticky-up trees? Do you want to build a jungle with monsters in? Let's build a jungle monster eating a treehouse."

It's interesting watching him navigate over to the workbench with all his cables. There's some kind of mechanism that keeps them suspended so they don't tangle. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, with your knee bumping his under the table, you watch him pour out his tub of bricks and help him pick out the green ones. It's... surprisingly peaceful.

 

Galley watches Bel work, interestedly, mostly sorting pieces by size and color and providing them as necessary. "You're making something different," he explains. "I'll just make the same things again."

After awhile, he scoots closer, and unsubtly hooks his legs over one of Bel's, then goes back to pressing his ear against Bel's shoulder. "Whoops," he says blandly, shuffling a little to make himself comfortable. He taps a brick piece against the table in quiet time with Bel's pulse.

 

Building with bricks one-handed is a fun sort of challenge, right? Right, because you've got to have your other arm around Galley. Snuggled up close as he is, half on your lap and breathing on you. You weren't that committed to building stuff in the first place, and Galley is extremely distracting.

You get as far as building a blocky monster that is mostly mouth, with little white peg teeth, and stomp it over the table to gently savage his elbow. "Gnarr."

 

"Someone's hungry," Galley notes blandly, then breaks his facade of detachment by poking his finger into the monster's mouth and snickering. When Bel shivers at the breath against his throat, he goes still. Then, very daring, he kisses the edge of Bel's jaw.

 

Letting out the tiniest of happy sighs, you turn toward him, meaning to kiss the tip of his nose or the corner of his eyebrow, something affectionate but not too heavy, not demanding. But the blush on his high cheekbones and the way his lips are still slightly parted -- desire hits you like a sledgehammer. You know you can't just pounce on him, you know, so you're trembling a little with holding back when you kiss his lovely mouth.

 

Galley laughs. "Oh, Senpai, be gentle with me," he coos mockingly, but the way he looks up at Bel is distinctly anxious.

 

"I thought you were Senpai," you return with a crooked grin. But you add more seriously, "But I will, you know, always." Because you know blueblood strength can be scary, and you want him to feel safe with you.

 

"Oh, I'm the Senpai, how could I have forgotten," he says, affecting surprise. "Because you play kōhai so well. All three tons of you." He pats one of Bel's heavy-artillery arms, anxiety subsumed by the impulse to tease.

 

"I may be a bit of a boulder, sweetness," you point out, scooping him the rest of the way onto your lap, "but I am the new guy. You've got several years seniority. So I'm afraid its you who must notice me."

Joking and flirting is just so nice, it feels like the future isn't actually terrifying, like maybe the world's not out to get either of you after all. In an attempt to explain this to him, between brief teasing kisses and while playing with his hair, you blurt, "You make me feel like things are okay."

 

"Mmm?" Galley says, distracted. "Uh. Oh. Shit. Right. You... you too." He frowns, dissatisfied. "....No. That's not it."

He stretches to take hold of Bel's horns and brings their foreheads together. "You're real," he tries to explain. "You make me feel real too. I don't think that's okay. Or legal, probably. But I, uh. I like it." Embarrassed by his open vulnerability, he goes in for a longer and significantly more aggressive round of kissing.

 

You want to tell him he's very real to you, the realest, but not as much as you want to never stop kissing ever. His aggression makes your heart hammer, makes you breathless, and you're sure he knows exactly how hot you find it because he's monitoring your vitals. You're in his space, he's the one with the information; you couldn't explain why you love that, but you do. You want to give yourself to him without reservation, and you want him to know precisely what he's getting.

You would also like to touch his butt, which is tiny and adorable, but you're not quite sure if that's allowed yet, so you settle for resting a hand on his hip. He's got his long, clever fingers in your hair; he gives it a little tug, and you gasp with want.