marlowemuses | Written in the Stars

Ronan forced his lips to mostly remain neutral, only the very hint of a smile worked its way to his mouth. Pissing people off and picking fights was how he got here. If the powers that be wanted him to stop now, they should've known better.

"Your point?" He gave Adam a smug look as they reached the table and received a few expectant stares, clearly waiting for them to split.

It pulls a smile from Adam's lips, and he sits down, starting to eat. He keeps half an eye on Ronan and half an eye on the rest of the room. He's about as interested in Ronan as he is in everyone else combined. Their peers don't interest him, since Adam plans to outdo them all, but he's intrigued by some of the senior fighter-navigator pairs and the authority figures, most of whom he admires an wants to be.

He can't help but wonder what Ronan would look like as one of them, with a captain's uniform and all that authority. The thought makes him smile again, and he squints at Ronan, who does not express either uniform or authority. Power, though. He definitely looks powerful.

Once Ronan sat down, he stopped paying attention to everyone else. More accurately, he made sure it looked that way. That was easy. What proved more difficult was not poking his food and whining some more about it.

Life was such a bitch to have led him to this moment with shitty food in a shitty ship. He took a bite, forced it down, and noticed that Adam still had his eye on him. He took this to mean one thing-- the only logical conclusion one could make. He was being judge.

"What?"

Adam returned the look calmly, continuing to study Ronan. He wanted to know more about the fighter he was assigned to, and the best way to learn was by attentive study. He didn't mind so much being caught looking. At least not by Ronan, his partner. Adam was generally better at hiding his attention from other people.

"You're up for training after we eat?" Adam still wants to train as soon as possible. Training with fighters previously has always been painful. They'd never been well-matched, just tossed together for learning purposes, or, more often, Adam had done his training simulations with a computerized partner. He desperately wants to know if he's compatible with Ronan.

"I'm always up for training," Ronan replied. This trip to the cafeteria hadn't been for his benefit. Whenever he tasted the food it felt more to his detriment.

He smiled unpleasantly. "Why? Think I'll disappoint you?"

Somewhere inside, Ronan was half afraid he would. He was good but he knew there were plenty of fighters here who had come from the colonies. This was their only shot and they'd known it, or else they were so desperate to get away from home that they would do anything to stay. Ronan wasn't like that.

"I've seen your scores," Adam responds, with a tiny lift of his brow that's both appreciation and challenge. They're decent scores, though they suggest that Ronan's aptitude is better than his dedication. "I want to know if we work well together."

He eats hungrily, only just managing to keep from looking starved as he eats. The quality of the food doesn't slow him at all. It's worlds better than what he's used to eating back home, and he's never had much to compare it with. There's plenty of it, too, and it's nutritious, since the Alliance wants to keep their navigators smart and their fighters strong.

As soon as he's done, Adam stands up and picks up his tray. "Let's go."

Ronan was all too eager to abandon his tray. After shoveling his last bite of food into his mouth (being a snob didn't mean he wanted to go hungry), he stood and walked with Adam. It didn't take long to set the trays away and leave this forsaken place.

He knew he'd have to come back more often than he'd like, not just for himself. Adam had wolfed down the meal just as expected but it'd take more than one meal to get him to a healthy weight. Ronan didn't work well with anyone, but he could make sacrifices. His taste buds would be the first to go.

"What'll you do if we don't work well? Whip me into shape?" he teased.

"Whatever it takes," Adam answers, tone dry enough that it's unclear whether that's a tease or a threat. His posture is relaxed, though, and he glances over at Ronan often as they walk. He likes that Ronan's getting comfortable enough to tease him. "Not like there's going to be much else to do on the ship. Train. Fight. Sleep."

Adam's heard some rumors about other popular past times between fighters and navigators on the ship. Some of the stories were threats, of how fighters treat navigators like property, and no one cares. Adam's grateful that his fighter doesn't seem to be like that. Prickly though Ronan is, he hasn't yet touched Adam or demanded anything from him.

Picking an available set of training pods, Adam selects a training simulation and then slides into the navigator's seat.

Train, fight, sleep. With those words Adam just laid out what their commanders had planned for Ronan's future, quite possibly until his life was over. Everything scheduled, everything with a purpose. Ronan had no clear plans of his own other than to throw a wrench into theirs.

But he was fine going along with this part of it. He settled quickly, strapping in, wrapping his hands around the controls, and feeling the steady beat of his heart. There were no stakes here, other than making a good impression on his navigator, but there was something about the hyperfocus of an intense training session that he enjoyed.

"Surprise me," he said once he was ready. "If you can."

Adam settles in, familiarizing himself with the standard training pod, scuffed by the hands of so many navigators that it felt used and public, both familiar and anonymous. As the simulation starts, Adam tightens his hands around the controls, taking them out of the simulated landing bay and into the stars.

Colterons attack almost immediately and Adam yanks the controls to pull them into a defensive stance, giving Ronan as much room as possible to fire and doing his best to keep from being targeted. But once he can tell that Ronan's landing shots competently, Adam pulls them in a little closer, taking more risks that depend on Ronan making a clean shot.

It's a kind of interplay that he's never had before, even though Adam doesn't say a word while he flies. No matter what he tries, every daredevil twist of the simulation that he pulls, Ronan's right there with him.

He's almost surprised when it's over, and there's nothing left but glittering ash and shrapnel where the Colteron ships had been. His fingers twitch with the urge for more, even though his heart is pounding and he's panting like he's run a marathon. The simulation screen switches over to results, and the numbers that rack up on the screen are twice the best score he's ever seen before. Ronan landed every single shot that Adam lined up for him. The rush of it makes Adam feel like his skin is aflame.

They're compatible. They're more than compatible. Adam can't stop staring at the numbers.

When the simulation ended, Ronan leaned back. His heart beat is just this side of frantic, too fast to be in control, but still maintaining its own strong rhythm. Every time he'd hit his target had been a dose of adrenaline, one more pulse of pleasure pulsing through his body. It took time to come down off of that high.

Surprise me. He hadn't expected that to happen. Not only that but Ronan had surprised even himself. He half smiled as he looked at those scores. Usually, he returned to his standard mood shortly after finishing the simulation. This time the satisfaction might outlast his racing heart.

"Fuck," he breathed. He glanced back over his shoulder though he couldn't see Adam. "Hate to disappoint you, but looks like you can put your whip away."

Adam tumbled out of the training pod, dizzy with elation. "That was an easy sim," he said, unable to resist tossing Ronan a tiny grin. "We can do better." There are more challenging simulations with complexities that Adam's never been able to unlock. Unbeatable simulations. Adam wants to try--and conquer--all of them.

He offers his knuckles to Ronan, since a triumph like this ought to be celebrated.

Ronan stepped out with ease. After only a moment's pause, he bumped his fist against Adam's. "Put it on the hardest next time."

Was he joking? Possibly. Ronan didn't care if Adam did or not. He just wanted another thrill.

He smirked. Seeing how tired Adam looked, he still asked. "How about now?"

"I want to see our starfighter," Adam says. He wants to fly it, but he knows that they should wait. He's tired, and he wants to take it out while he's fresh and while they have time. "Have you seen it already?"

Turning toward the hangar, Adam glances over at Ronan frequently as they walk. Adam doesn't relax easily around people, but he already likes Ronan's company, and he's tentatively developing trust for him. And after their success with the training sim, Adam feels a surge of partnership with him.

Ronan shook his head. "I got the debriefing not the grand tour."

Still full of adrenaline, it took considerably less time to reach the hangar than it had to get to the cafeteria. Ronan had already seen military displays and many news pieces on the war, it was unavoidable, but there was something impressive about this. All these ships before them were weapons of destruction, manned by a pair on this very vessel. And one was just for them.

"Let's see which one's ours."

Adam goes to the nearest wall interface, tapping through a few screens to get the information he needs and then heading across the hangar with Ronan. He notes the hangar organization aloud that Ronan will be able to find it quickly again, row and bay. Once he's found the ship, he runs his hand over the side of it, drawing attention with a tap of his finger to the serial number on tail, easy to remember and confirm so that Ronan can find it easily in a fleet of identical ships. Adam has no such concerns about his own capacity to find the ship. He's a navigator.

It opens with a simple latch, and Adam slides into his seat, adjusting the seat and the belt to his comfort and starting up the computers, playing with the settings as much as he can while staying where they are. "It's beautiful. New." While Adam wouldn't have minded a refurbished ship, evidence of a former fighter navigator pair that might not have survived, having something new and untouched is a pleasure. Adam's had so few new things in his life.

Ronan examined the ship for himself. He wasn't the brightest person in the universe, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He knew enough to tell this wasn't a death trap. No visible defect and his controls were better than the simulator's.

He didn't show his approval other than a nod.

"Don't wreck it."

He tested it out a few times, getting used to the motions. There were a few slight adjustments that might make a difference during battle, not much but sometimes the slightest change was all that mattered. But Ronan was confident he'd handle it.

When he was done, he climbed out and gave it another admiring look while it was still shiny and new.

"We'd better get back before anyone catches us eye-fucking our ship."

"I think it might be part of our job," Adam said, hands lingering over the controls. He wanted to stay. He wanted to fly. But it was late already and he was tired. Better to start fresh tomorrow.

Climbing out of the cockpit, Adam dropped to the ground and glanced toward Ronan with a tentative grin. He was elated to be here, to have a partner and a ship. It all felt unbelievable. Adam offered his knuckles briefly to Ronan, bonding over their shared love of the ship and their excitement to be here.

He took a different route back through the hangar, cutting between the rows of ships to reach the back wall and the door quicker. It took them close between the ships, letting Adam admire the beauty of them, but it meant that he wasn't paying attention until he almost walked into a fighter and navigator pair tucked behind one of the ships.

The navigator was on his knees, head bobbing as he pleasured the fighter, who noticed them immediately and smirked invitingly at Adam. Deeply startled, Adam reversed without thinking, backing away quickly and crashing into Ronan's solid chest in his attempt to escape.

Fortunately, Ronan wasn't so easy to knock over. He braced himself and grabbed Adam to steady him. "Hey!" he snapped before looking up and adding something more helpful. "Fuck!"

He stepped back as well but managed to to take either of them down. He would've liked to focus on that smug look on the fighter and punch him but his eyes drifted down to the navigator's mouth circling the man's cock.

Ronan turned before the blush on his face became too obvious. He dragged Adam away.

He was never going to get that image out of his head.

Adam wasn't used to being handled like this. Ronan's grip was careful as he steadied him, and then Ronan's hand was on his, pulling him away.

Adam went with him gratefully, fleeing quickly as they made their way to the end of the hangar bay and out into the hall. Adam's mind lingered on the feeling of Ronan's broad chest against his back and Ronan's strong arms steadying him, and the way the fighter had looked at him. No one had ever looked at Adam like that before.

Once they were out in the hall and could slow their pace a little, Adam made a hiccuping little gasp of shock, and then started laughing. He tried to stifle it, but little bubbles of laughter escaped him.

Ronan's face was still flushed and the exercise was not at all a factor. He looked at Adam, his face finally replacing the image of the navigator with a dick in his mouth.

When Adam started laughing, he kept staring at him in shock. Then, either he recognized the absurdity of the moment or Adam's laughter was contagious, but his lips twitched. The laughter was slow to start and the smile never reached his eyes, but he joined in.

"What the hell." He gasped. "Forget the 'terons. That's gonna haunt my nightmares for years."

Adam's laughter shifted at that, a warmer burst of humor, less hysterical, and then his laughter settled and he could start moving again, wanting to get back to their quarters and privacy--safety--as quickly as possible. He met Ronan's eyes as they started moving, making sure that they were going together, and then just focused on moving, trusting that Ronan would stay by his side as they made their way through the halls.

They passed another fighter-navigator pair in a hallway, walking close and talking quietly. When they glanced over at Adam and Ronan in polite acknowledgement, Adam reflexively twitched away from them, bumping into Ronan and throwing himself off his stride. He recovered quickly, walking faster, with his shoulders drawn up and his chin tucked down defensively.

Ronan noted the change but didn't think much of it in the moment, which was the case with most things. The way Adam jerked when they passed another pair was harder to ignore. He gave him a sharp look but otherwise ignored the matter until they made it back to their room.

Since he was stuck with the top bunk, he leaned against the wall. "What, are you scarred?"

The tension left Adam's posture once they were safely inside their room. He wasn't exactly relaxed, but he was less clearly on edge. Settling onto his bed, Adam leaned back against the wall, expression as shuttered as ever. "Guess we'll be having the same nightmares," he commented, voice soft and mostly without inflection.

Ronan folded his arms. He watched Adam closely, waiting for an explanation, his gaze practically demanded it.

Ronan, as a private person, generally tried to respect people's privacy. That might be because generally, it didn't matter. And with the only people he'd cared enough to question, he either already knew the answer or was too afraid to ask. This was one of those anomalous cases: he wanted to know and he wasn't afraid of asking, but he didn't want to pry it out of Adam. Not verbally anyway.

In spite of his intense gaze, he was comfortable with the silence that accompanied it. And if his back hurt from being hunched against the wall for so long, he didn't show it.

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