Warning(s): AU, poly relationships, f/f, m/m, m/f, m/f/m, f/m/f, OOCness (I think), insecurities, pining, abuse
It was quiet on the ship save for the hum of electronics and Nova's brief mentions of the current hour every hour. Right now it was somewhere around ten o clock, and the lights were purposely dimmed to mimic the natural nightfall most planets experienced. Of course it was a happy mixture of each passenger's home world's time scale. Most adjusted to it, and others retreated to their own rooms to their own accommodations.
Whiskey Foxtrot never took quiet well. He was so used to being shouted at (usually for disobeying orders), dodging live fire rounds, the crack of his gun smacked against an opponent's face, showering with other men who thought they could sing, and the list continued. Each and every sound (or sight) pulled his attention, demanding a final decision however badly put together from his scrambled thought processes.
But this quiet gave him even more to think about and even less to do.
The quiet was when old thoughts crept into his mess of a mind. The beatings and solitary confinement, back to back testing and doctors wondering if a defect could be salvaged, the feeling of not owning his self, his failures, his own damn reflection, and a long string of ex-lovers. Whiskey pushed those thoughts away and instead ran through made up OPs.
If he was thinking about battle and getting caught up in his imagination, there would be no time to dwell on the--
"Damn it." muttered Whiskey.
He wandered into the common living area and none other than Deande was on the couch in lounge wear just short enough for the imagination to run wild. Not that he needed his imagination at the moment.
Deande and him had pretty much seen every bit of each other's bodies and practically did it every place possible. Even Rendain's desk was not spared of their interactions.
Whiskey Foxtrot missed being with Deande. She was the first and only partner that had not been buzzed and desperate. She was the first and only to initiate and not pretend it never happened. Deande had been open about dating him and without shame.
"You can't sleep again?" She gave him a warm modest smile.
"Yeah." He sat down at the other end of the couch, ever mindful that the break up was only six months fresh. But he would still try his luck at getting her back. Maybe she would be in the mood for making out at the very least. "You know me. Takes a while to get to sleep--especially when my best girl don't want me anymore."
"Ugh." Deande rolled her eyes. "Pity then that her feelings for you have changed."
Whiskey Foxtrot pouted.
"Don't do this to me Foxie." She planted a kiss on his forehead. "We both know it was fun at first, but you're too much to handle."
"Funny you never explain why that is Deande."
Whiskey felt his heart sink. That could mean anything from you're too extroverted to you've got some intense fucked up opinions. Or it could have been him being a hideous freak of scientific fuckery gone wrong and that she was well over the infatuation stage that made people ignore all kinds of flaws.
"Look, we needed a break from each other," said Deande. "Be a good sport and don't drag your self through hell over me."
Deande left. Presumably to sleep.
Whiskey Foxtrot sat on the couch thinking about it all until Nova's voice told him it was now 11 o'clock at night. Bitterly he shambled down the winding halls to the living quarters but stopped. He didn't want to try and sleep did he? He was a little tired but not quite there yet and a drink before bed always sounded good.
Reyna the "Valkyrie" Valeria decided enough was enough. There was no way a woman like her was waiting around for a man to admit feelings for her. She had banished the hopeless romantic within her years ago after some end relationships in her youth left her a mess. Reyna decided to focus on her grab bag of skills, and here she was, respected "leader" of the Rogues, leading a resistance against an empire usurping asshole alien.
But maybe the girls were right.
Maybe even if she was done with relationships she still had needs. Her body was more thirsty for attention than she cared to admit, and it had been years since she had been taken.
The last man she had been with was a terrible lay that she had laughed about a couple of years afterward. She was nineteen and he was twenty at the time--not blushing virgins but he definitely didn't know what he was doing.
But still... the other ladies had no right to make her abysmal love life the subject of gossip.
Reyna pushed away from the wall she had been leaning against with an aggravated moan, and strode down the hall toward the bridge, away from the muffled giggles.
Kleese was in his hover chair clacking away at his console--probably chasing rogue bugs in Nova's programming. He was annoying and rather unfunny but oh so brilliant and definitely loyal... enough.
'He has a huge crush on you!'
'Oh. My. God. I don't care Ambra!'
'Aw... she's blushing!'
'Mellka I will throw you off my God damned ship!'
'That you can not see how adoringly he looks at you is amusing!'
'Oh just tell her ladies. She deserves to know which guy fell hard for her.'
'Alani I will serve you up as a tuna melt so help me!'
Reyna cringed. None of the other ladies told her or even gave her hints that it was Kleese but she found her self praying it was not him. She had nothing but a deep sense of camaraderie for him and the others. They were all in a war together for fucks sake. Bonds like that naturally sprang up and were needed. But as a lover? Hell no.
"Reyna, what are you doing up this late?" Kleese did not look up from his work.
"I was going to go to sleep for a few hours but the ladies decided to piss me the hell off tonight. So, I'm just wandering around and blowing off steam cool?"
"Cool. I guess. I just thought with Ghalt and I minding the bridge and all--ah well never mind."
Reyna closed her one functioning eye and her full lips pressed into a thin line. She slowly breathed out and asked, "What is it Kleese?"
"Ah nothing, nothing!"
"Oh... oh no... never mind!"
Reyna the "Valkyrie" Valeria was not scared of much but the idea that Kleese had been harboring a secret crush on her all this time was terrifying. She turned and flung herself down the hall so quickly she barely noticed the change of color from utility to quarters, nor did she notice the blue-skinned brute traversing the same hall until she smacked into his broad chest.
Chapter End | Chapter 2