marlowemuses | Written in the Stars

"Just me," Adam responded, shrugging off the question. "Let's go and train. I'd like to see if we're compatible."

Or they could go eat. Adam knows it. He's hungry. But it seems like a lower priority. If they eat, they'll be slow and sleepy, and the training will be put off until tomorrow. Better to go hungry a little longer.

Ronan might not be in touch with his feelings, but he was observant. He also wasn't absent not just training but also practice in fighting. He'd known when it was fair to pick a fight when his brother and when he was too tired for a good fight. Adam didn't looked like he fell in the latter category, even if he was just navigating.

So he continued to dig his own grave, even if it was for a noble cause.

He lifted one eyebrow briefly while Adam talked, to show he wasn't so easily distracted. Then followed it up verbally. "Or we can shove food in our mouths then train."

"Fine," Adam agreed. He doubted that his new fighter wanted to hear about the probability of their reaction speed being slowed by digestion, and things were too close on the heels of Ronan asking about Adam being starved. He was hungry, after all.

Not waiting for further discussion, Adam headed out the door. He hadn't yet been to the dining hall, but he'd memorized the layout of the ship from the map they'd been given, so he had a pretty good idea which way they were going.

Ronan rolled his eyes, not that Adam saw since his back was turned. So his navigator wasn't terrible but this was definitely going to be an adjustment for both of them.

He followed him out. While he caught up to him, he remained just a step behind. Ronan hadn't bothered to memorize anything except where to go for training.

He glanced at Adam, unsure of just what to say next. If there was anything he failed at more than being smart it was getting along with people.

"You do know where we're going right?" Yeah, that was definitely smooth, Ronan.

"Probably." Adam slows a little, looking over at Ronan, so that they can walk side by side. They're a team. That's important and Adam knows it, even though he has no idea how to put it into practice. "I memorized the layout."

Oh, and here's the dining hall. Adam hesitates in the doorway, shifting a little closer to Ronan. He's a lot more confident with following a memorized map than he is at navigating a room full of judgemental strangers.

"Overachiever," Ronan said almost dismissively. What he thought was now he had no excuse for fall back on for not knowing the place. At least they'd already established that he was not a smart man.

When they reached the dining hall, Ronan first took in the people and concluded that he already hated being just as menacing as roughly half of the population on this ship. Then he noticed the food and made a face.

"Almost makes me wish we skipped to training."

"We're committed now," Adam remarks, enjoying Ronan's grimace. At least he wasn't the only one who felt nervous about this. Feeling reassured, he moved forward, keeping close by Ronan's side as they entered the cafeteria line.

He liked that his fighter was intimidating. More intimidating than most of the fighters, from Adam's perspective. Adam liked having an impressive fighter. Now as long as he could keep up in training, maybe they could do well together. The idea of partnership appealed to Adam, and his mind lingered on that, already picking out training programs that he wanted to run through with Ronan.

"I'm feeling like breaking up," Ronan said dryly. Though it was a joke, the feeling behind it only increased as he waited. It didn't take long but the only time Ronan liked to be idle was during a bout of insomnia or drinking. He could do with the latter about now.

He had to force himself to take the food. What he didn't manage was to keep his expression in check. There was a reason he'd always skipped cafeterias in the past. Junk food was tastier than this.

He immediately picked a less populated table and headed toward it. He leaned into Adam as he walked. "Some shit, huh?" Meaning the food, which he hadn't even tried yet.

As they get the food and assess the room, Adam notices that most of the tables are all navigators or all fighters, with relatively little mingling. Surprised when Ronan picks a table by itself, he followed him over, though he missed it when Ronan murmured something into his bad ear. "Everyone's sitting according to role. Even the technicians are sitting off on their own."

He suspects Ronan's going to look uncool sitting next to him, but he still wants him to stay.

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.

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in which Ronan continues to be oblivious

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