"Shifting"

By Viridian5

11/8/01

RATING: NC-17; Dylan/Harper. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this story by.

SPOILERS: "An Affirming Flame," then "Its Hour Come ‘Round at Last" through "Last Call at the Broken Hammer."

SUMMARY: When everything’s changing, it’s hard to figure out where you’re supposed to be.

ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you ask me first.

FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com.

DISCLAIMERS: All things Gene Roddenberry’s Andromeda belong to Gene Roddenberry’s estate, Majel Roddenberry, and Tribune Entertainment Company. None of them are mine at all, and I’m putting them back when I’m done with them, though I can’t promise that they won’t be disturbed in the process. No infringement intended.

NOTES: Second season has been frustrating me with all the important moments that happen off-screen and are never referred to onscreen, so I’m tackling a few of them.

Thanks to Kass, LaT, and Shotboxer for read-throughs. Haunted by Poe was a big mood-setter for this story.

==========================
"Shifting"
By Viridian5
==========================

"I need to get my bearings.
I’m lost,
And the shadows keep on changing.

And I’m haunted
By the lives that I have loved
And actions I have hated...."
-- "Haunted" by Poe
----------------------------------------

Harper snuggled under his covers tired but satisfied. Dylan had been really impressed by the new bridge. Ha. "Impressed"? Blown away more like. Surprised and awed and really pleased.

It made Harper happy to see that. Dylan had been so dark and down lately. He still couldn’t believe that Captain Idealism was going to ignore the freighters being gunned down because Inari didn’t have much to offer the Commonwealth against the Magog. Yeah, they turned out to be scum, but Dylan hadn’t been sure of that at the time. Tempering his idealism with pragmatism, he said, which was all well and good, but....

Harper missed the idealism. There had to be some middle ground for Dylan between hanging a "kick me" sign on his back and coldly letting people go to their deaths when they didn’t have to. His crew could be ruthless for him, dammit. Maybe then he wouldn’t look so unhappy all the time.

So watching his eyes light up had been a real treat. And Harper had put that light there. Yeah, a lot of the blueprint came from pre-Fall improvements, but Harper put his own touches and ideas in, just as he had on Rommie’s drone ‘bots and the hull of the ship. He’d left his design fingerprints all over the Andromeda Ascendant.

It was important to leave a legacy. Just in case.

Personally putting together the nova bombs that would send the Magog screaming to hell where they belonged made him happy too. Nobody said part of his legacy couldn’t be totally practical.

Harper grunted as he felt something shift in his gut, more shivery discomfort than pain. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Not again. The last five times this had happened in the past few weeks and he’d gone to med-deck Trance had told him that they weren’t actually moving. Meaning that it was all in his head. So now he had to decide whether to go again or not, because he did not want to be the little boy who cried Magog. When those bastards starting gnawing on him from the inside, he damned well wanted the villagers to come running to help him.

So, how serious did he think this time was?

He wrapped his arms over his stomach and curled up, waiting, trying to slow his breathing. He felt nothing. False alarm? Gas? His own way too vivid imagination? Maybe. Better than the alternative.

But then that shuddery movement came back, and he couldn’t help the whimper that passed his lips. Yes? No? Go? What?

"Harper," Rommie said, and the lights came up. "Please report to med-deck. If you can’t, I’ll have the drones assist you."

"Do you know something I don’t?" Harper asked, totally freaked out.

"Please. This is just precautionary."

As confused and scared as he felt, he sighed as some relief flooded him. Nobody could fault him for this one. "Coming."

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"I don’t detect anything now," Trance said.

"My scans detected movement," Rommie said.

"You were scanning me in my bedroom?" Harper asked.

"As per Dylan’s orders."

"Harper, I figured that you might not be able to raise an alarm when... if the time came," Dylan said. "Considering your condition and your recent visits after reporting activity, I set Rommie to scanning you constantly for signs of discomfort or unusual internal movement." He was dressed in ‘jammies made of some kind of lustrous dark blue fabric, nice, and probably roused out of a sound sleep by Rommie. Or maybe not a sound sleep, because Dylan didn’t look too hot.

Beka was still on the bridge in command, and maybe that was better.

Harper didn’t know why Tyr, all long locks and charged stillness, had shown up here, but he also didn’t get the recently smiley Nietzschean who snarked behind him and offered advice as he played cards either. Didn’t get why Tyr cared lately. Almost dying together a few times and being impregnated with Magog eggs shouldn’t have made this much of a difference. And lucky Tyr had managed to survive having them removed, even if just barely.

An operation too risky to try on poor, delicate Harper.

But he had more immediate things on his mind. Like the fact that Dylan had Rommie spying on him. "You couldn’t tell me about the special surveillance?" Harper asked.

"I didn’t want to--"

Didn’t want to upset poor, delicate Harper by mentioning the thing they’d all decided not to talk about. Harper wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, even he got tired of thinking about it, but on the other, denying it all the time and trying so hard to avoid the topic in public screwed up his head, made him feel like he was carrying it all alone.

Which, actually, he was.

"I get it," Harper said. "It’s... it’s a good idea, thanks. Makes sense. Sorry, the crankiness comes along with the weird food cravings." Evil of him to enjoy Dylan’s wince. "I just wish you’d told me."

Now Tyr was looking at him funny. Why, he didn’t know.

"I should have," Dylan said. "Trance, in what definition of ‘dormant’ do the spawn get to keep the ability to shift around?" Oooh, pissy Dylan.

"They’re still alive. If we could just kill them, everything would be easier," she answered.

"Wait a minute," Harper said. "Does that mean I was right the last few times? It wasn’t all in my head?" Great.

Trance didn’t look happy. "Possibly. We have to figure out why they might be moving but then stop by the time you reach the med-bay."

Then it hit him, and it was so obvious that he laughed a little bit. Dylan looked worried by the sound of it. "Harper?"

"Maybe the reason why they don’t move until I’m in bed is not because my admittedly fertile imagination has the time to think about them since the day’s duties are over. Maybe it’s because I’m not moving anymore, so I’m not rocking the little bastards into a deeper sleep. Once I freak out, jump out of bed, and head to med-bay...."

"They’re lulled again. That makes sense," Trance said.

"We just didn’t think about it because we don’t want to look at my... condition that way. Bad place." Very bad place.

Tyr’s weird look got even weirder. This might be bad.

Dylan looked... desolated. "Is there anything we can do? Is this dangerous?"

"It doesn’t seem to be," Trance answered.

"You also didn’t think they’d be moving."

"I’m sorry, Dylan, I’m in new territory here. I don’t see any physical damage in it, aside from Harper’s discomfort, which I’m not sure we can treat. Too many medications interact badly with the serum. I don’t want to give him something that may counteract the serum and turn the spawn active."

Harper couldn’t take listening to this anymore. Maybe Not Talking about it was better after all. He slid off the table onto the floor. "Don’t worry about it. I’ll get ‘em drunk. ‘Scuse me." He walked out quickly before anyone could say anything.

Didn’t stop Dylan from following him, with Tyr standing near the door in the distance, as if waiting for a sign to engage. Interesting having the crew treat him like he was a particularly unpredictable kind of live grenade at times like these. Harper didn’t stop walking, but Dylan’s longer legs didn’t have any trouble keeping up. Dammit. And running would just make them think he was really going off the deep end.

"You’ve been drinking too much lately," Dylan said.

"No I haven’t. The damned spawn make it harder to get drunk because they suck so much of it up. Thirsty little ingrates. Man, they really could be my kids." Oh, shit, that might explain Tyr’s look. "You have any idea what Uber instincts are like in the handling of pregnant Nietzscheans? I’m worried I’m about to find out. I know what they’re like with pregnant humans, and I know you wouldn’t allow him to treat me like that."

Dylan was not keeping up with his brain. Probably for the best, because Harper didn’t want to be inside with his thoughts either. "Harper...."

"The drinking is fine. Maybe better than fine. When they burst out they’ll be alcoholics, and you can use that against them." Why was it so easy to be evil? Dylan looked so guilty. It was like kicking a crippled puppy. "Dylan, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I’ll deal with it. I was the one who reestablished Rommie’s backup copy."

"I was the one who put you on the ship with it. My quest."

"And Rommie feels responsible because it was a backup copy of her personality, it came out shooting at us so I had to turn off the internal defenses, and it drove us into Magog space. There’s a lot of blame to go around."

"But you’re the one directly dealing with the consequences."

"When I met you, was I or was I not already infected with a lethal disease that would have killed me very slowly and very painfully and without even leaving a good-looking corpse?"

"Your cure was not conditional on joining my crew."

Harper always figured that megalomaniacs would be happy, since they had all that power, at least in their own minds. But most of them didn’t bother taking the responsibility, with guilt as the necessary attachment, on along with it. Dylan did.

And look at him, trying to cheer Dylan up. When did somebody try to cheer him up with something besides "there’s a possibility you’ll live"? But this is what he did, what he always did.

Besides, he had too much to do before he checked out. He needed to make sure he could stick it to the Magog in some way from beyond the grave.

"Dylan, a painful death has been marked in on my calendar since I was born. Only the method and date were a mystery. I should have died years ago; I’m getting into an unusual middle age by Earth lifespan reckoning." Oh, yeah. That was cheery. Harper tried again. "I wouldn’t have missed working on the Andromeda for anything. The things I’ve seen here I couldn’t even dream of before. I may have some regrets, most of them involving lovely ladies, but joining on here isn’t one of them, okay?" This might work. "Look, why don’t you grab a drink with me? That way you can keep an eye on me. Doesn’t look like you were sleeping anyway. Beka told me you have Scotch."

That triggered a tiny smile. "I’ll have to talk to my first officer about sharing secrets."

Had him. "As long as you share your Scotch with me first."

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"Whooo! This is nice." The little bastards in his guts didn’t deserve this stuff, lacking the discernment to appreciate it. "You’re a man of wealth and taste." And really comfy chairs in his quarters.

Sitting across the table from Harper, Dylan looked almost mellow. "Thank you, Mr. Harper. You didn’t mind the tour guide duty?"

"Nah. I never pass up a chance to talk about my favorite two subjects."

"Seamus Zelazny Harper and Seamus Zelazny Harper?" Dylan didn’t quite succeed at looking innocent.

"No, wise guy, the Andromeda Ascendant... and Seamus Zelazny Harper. What kind of raging egomaniac do you think I am?"

"The kind that’s sipping my good Scotch."

"Well, that’ll work." Harper grinned. "Man, by the end the major didn’t know if she wanted to stick her fingers in her ears or hit me. That’s a precise art, you know. You have to time the moments you play the ‘fingers in the ears’ reflex and the ‘hit him’ reflex so the person’s too cross-wired to do either. Like: fingers, fingers, hit him!, fingers, hit him!, fingers. You don’t want to start a rhythm the victim can follow. I did good, Boss?"

"You did good. I stopped counting how many times you came on to Major Whendar."

"Hey, my tastes are broad." Harper paused. "And I like other kinds of women too."

Dylan’s smile reached his eyes. "Come over here so I can hit you."

"Hell no."

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A sound woke Harper up, but he felt too comfy and mellow to worry, especially when he had this nice warmth wrapped around him from the back. "Siobhan?" he asked. The warm someone sighed and shifted, yet... Siobhan may have been a strapping tomboy, but she didn’t have the kind of muscle mass Harper felt in the arm draped over him, nor did she have a semi-erect cock. "Dee?" he tried again.

"Mmmm," the someone murmured. D, not Dee. Dylan.

Besides, Harper’s family was dead and the refugee camp far behind him.

Okay, so he was in bed, in the dark, with Dylan. Fully dressed--well, fully dressed in ‘jammies--but being cuddled. Hey, he must have gotten drunk after all, even if he didn’t remember drinking much. Maybe the little bastards didn’t like Scotch. Cool. What Stinky, Sneaky, Happy, Sneezy, Sleazy, Bashful, Grumpy, and Turdbrain didn’t like, he’d be more than pleased to keep.

Sober, Dylan might regret this, but Harper felt too good, too comforted, to move. Warm and loose and buzzed. Sleepy too. He closed his eyes.

Then he heard that sound again. It was coming from near the door. Someone was trying to hack into Dylan’s lock?

Dylan seemed disinclined to let him go, but Harper managed to slide out. Dylan made a mournful sound, then rolled into Harper’s warm spot. This better be important, making him get out of bed.

Harper opened the door and squinted in the sudden light coming in from the corridor. "What?" he asked.

A large shadow suddenly blocked that light. "You really have no sense of self-preservation tonight." Then Tyr’s nostrils flared a little. Inhaling him, then getting a weirdly relieved look on his face.

Dammit. "Tyr, if anybody got on Andromeda, Dylan would be the first one alerted."

"Unless--"

Harper spoke right over him. "Besides, most people would shoot the lock, which would be louder, or hack it better, which would be silent. So get off my ass. And what were you gonna do, break in and kidnap me?"

"I hoped it wouldn’t come to that." At Harper’s snort, Tyr said, "I was merely getting your attention."

"You damn well better have a good reason for waking me up out of sound sleep, which is something I’m not getting much of lately."

Tyr looked almost sorry about that. Go figure. "Not here."

Sighing, Harper leaned against the doorway and tried to wake up, hoping this would make more sense that way. "Where?"

"My quarters."

"This better be good."

"Or you’ll what?" Tyr purred.

"Or I will whine and complain until you’ll want to shoot yourself."

"Nietzscheans do not believe in suicide." His tone said, "unlike some people."

"I know that. That’s how bad I’ll be."

"It’s important."

"Then I’ll come along and you can dazzle me." Harper padded beside Tyr in his bare feet, unwilling to take the chance of waking Dylan by going back for his boots. While he didn’t make a habit of walking the halls in his ‘jammies barefoot, he could do this. His soles were still hard enough that he didn’t feel the metal grill pieces.

They’d cleaned Andromeda’s floors as thoroughly as possible. It didn’t even smell that much like Magog out here anymore, and he’d walked on way worse, especially during the mucky refugee camp springs.

As soon as they reached Tyr’s room, Tyr said, "Privacy mode, computer."

"It’s that bad."

"I sincerely doubt that the computer actually obeys me in such matters, but the gesture gives me some small moral high ground with the captain."

Getting ever more dismally sober by the minute, Harper crossed his arms. "Dazzle me."

"You stayed."

"Hunh? Where?"

"In Dylan’s quarters."

"Yeah. So?"

"I’m uncertain of your tastes."

"My tastes."

"Though they seem to involve anything alive and bipedal."

Oh. Fucker. "Up yours."

"You also seem to be in perpetual heat." Tyr smiled a little. "Intriguing. Even your hair bristles when you’re angry. Making your styling gel use a protective camouflage measure? I approve, then."

"You mentioned something important. We can do each other’s hair some other time."

"You’ve noticed Dylan’s recent mood swings and bouts of depression, I’m sure."

"Who hasn’t? Beka and I have been discussing ways we might cheer him up."

Tyr’s eyes widened. It might have been funny if Harper hadn’t been dead certain that Tyr had just stumbled into a harebrained assumption that was causing the wide eyes. Tyr asked, "And this is part of that?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your stay in his bed."

Then Harper got it. Right between the eyes. "Fuck you. I don’t have to put up with this shit."

Tyr grabbed his wrist as he tried to storm past. His grip was gentle but impossible to argue with, and Harper would hurt himself only if he tried to get loose. Which he started to do, except that Tyr softly said, "Please, sit."

It was the softness and the "please" that made Harper decide to humor him. How often did anyone get to hear a Nietzschean use the magic word?

So he sat on Tyr’s bed and glared up at him. "I am not, nor have I ever been, the Maru’s whore, Tyr. And even if I thought that bestowing myself on Dylan would make him happier, there’d have to be more to it than that for me to go there. Okay? Besides, he doesn’t strike me as the casual sex type, at least not where it concerns people he knows and works with every day."

Tyr crouched down to put himself at eye level. "That is precisely my point. Dylan has been engaging in a number of risky behaviors lately. I fear that he may be self-destructive."

Harper’s mouth went dry. "I fear that too."

"This would be the worst time for a liaison for you. His self-destructiveness could feed yours."

"Tyr--"

"I do not want to hear that you’ve put a gun to your stomach again."

Tyr had only heard about that one because when Beka had been told she’d flown off the handle publicly for a little while before taking Harper private with it. Once they’d found a room, she’d yelled at Harper over it and he’d yelled back, but then she’d started to cry, and he’d cried because he couldn’t stand to see her that way. Then she’d told him that they’d almost lost Rev too due to some damned self-starvation penance thing. At which point Harper had been angry at Rev, since a starving Magog might turn on his tasty crewmates--especially Beka, Dylan, and Tyr, who were with him for the last days of it--and Beka had answered that Rev’s actions were about as dangerous to others as almost letting the Andromeda blow up out of a personal deathwish. More mutual yelling, then more mutual crying, and then hugging as she told him that she wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of losing him.

Once out, it had taken fifteen minutes for him to recover his cool and put on the right face to go see Rev.

After Harper had talked to Rev a bit, Tyr had stopped him in the corridor and simply said, "I’m disappointed in you." None of the withering scorn Harper had expected, just... he didn’t know. He didn’t know what emotion Tyr had been showing before walking away without another word. After which Harper had gone to his quarters and thrown up for a while, since the serum made him nauseous at times anyway even without the emotional roller coaster.

Had Beka heard yet that the spawn were moving around? She might have and just not wanted to wake him to ask about it.

"Harper. Child."

How did Tyr get so close and why did he have his hand on Harper’s cheek? While patronizing him. Harper snarled at Tyr, yet also realized that some part of him had tilted his head into that big, warm hand for more contact.

What the hell was wrong with him? "I was feeling so good just before you came," Harper said, his voice sounding as thick and tight as his throat felt. Fuck. That was supposed to sound sarcastic.

Tyr was looking at him like he was a problem that needed to be solved, but there was a weird gentleness in there too. Harper shuddered, totally confused, as Tyr’s thumb stroked his cheek. "Is this part of the problem?" Tyr asked softly. "Is this what you need?"

The door chimed, and Dylan’s voice came over the comm. "Tyr."

To Harper’s relief, it broke the tension. He had no idea where Tyr had been going.

"Come in," Tyr said, sounding annoyed, and removed his hand.

Dylan stood in the doorway in full uniform, looking very official. "Rommie tells me that you stole my engineer." Light voice, eyebrows raised, but it was Dylan’s dangerous light voice and look, not the real one.

It worried the hell out of Harper, so he said, "Just borrowed. Hi," and waved.

"Harper." Dylan nodded his head to him, gave him a long look, and walked in, pinning Tyr with a look. "Tyr, the last thing I remember, I’d finally calmed Harper down. What have you been doing since then and why?"

That was the problem with sticking around people, they figured out what your "I’m fine" face really looked like. Well, one problem with sticking around people. "Tyr was worried about me. With the spawn partying earlier and all." When did he become Tyr’s knight defender? Tyr looked as surprised as he felt.

Harper knew he was better at provoking situations than defusing them, and right now Dylan looked like he didn’t need any more help blowing up. Harper just wished he knew what the hell was going on. Dylan had come back from the Glitter Dust trip trusting Tyr even less, but this seemed more like open, obvious warfare than his usual style of dealing with their token untrustworthy Nietzschean.

Harper wondered if this was about him at all, so he decided to test it, saying, "It’s sweet that the whole ship’s up worrying about me, but I’m fine. Now I’m going to go be fine in my own quarters. It’s been real. Real what, I don’t know, but hey. ‘Night, everybody." He unlocked his arms from around his knees, stood, stretched, and started to walk.

Dylan followed him out. Interesting. And looked a bit rueful. Unable to resist, Harper said, "It’s not too late to drag me back to your cave by my hair. I mean, I understand. Even High Guard officers must need something plush to go to bed with now and then, and you woke up without yours. Made you grumpy." Holy shit. Turn the edit function on now.

Oh, right, he didn’t really have one. Damn Tyr for getting his brain thinking in this direction anyway.

Dylan’s mouth quirked. "I worry because I care."

"Tyr was worried too. Me, I would have been much happier if he waited until after I woke up to talk to me, but it’s not enough to kick his ass over. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll give you a good enough excuse soon."

"Tyr was worried."

"I know! Fight to the death and get raped alongside a guy, and he gets all funny on you. He was even there when I woke up the first time to hear the news." Which Dylan responded to by looking like someone had put a knife in his gut and twisted it, which in turn reminded Harper that Not Talking could be for the best a lot of times. Maybe he should try some of that.

"I checked in before you woke up. I felt that all the commanding officers needed to be on the bridge as we--"

"--limped away from the Worldship. I get that. I didn’t mean it as a complaint." Never mind that he’d wondered at the time why Dylan and Beka weren’t there for support or something when he got his living death prognosis from Trance and Rev. Just because he’d been having a lot of "it’s all about me" moments lately didn’t mean he had to throw it in people’s faces. "It’s just me saying that Tyr has lots of faults--lots and lots of faults--but you shouldn’t nail him on his recent behavior toward me because that’s not one of them. Unless he starts getting weirdly overprotective and I start begging you to get him off my ass. Okay?"

"Okay." But Dylan didn’t look okay. Dylan looked like he might be the one who had parasites gnawing away at his insides.

It hurt to see. Without really thinking about it, Harper put his hand in a comforting grip on Dylan’s wrist--well, really his sleeve gauntlet thing--and said, "You help me, okay? I was having a really sound, comfortable sleep for the first time in a while before Tyr woke me up." Argh. Time to abort mission, let go of Dylan, and get his ass out of here before he said any other stupid things. "Oh, look, my quarters. Time flies. See you later."

But Dylan gently grabbed his wrist. "I slept well too. In fact, I woke up when you got out of bed to see to the door. Maybe you’re right about me needing a plush something to sleep with." While Harper tried to close his mouth, Dylan smirked and said, "You can dish it out but can’t take it."

"Oh sure, take advantage of me while I’m tired." When Harper saw that smug light in Dylan’s eyes get brighter, he said, "Just walk away. There’s no reason for you to watch me bang my head against the wall a few times."

It may have been a smug light, but it was still a light. Dylan was even smiling a little as he said, "I’ll see you later, Harper."

"Yeah." Harper closed the door behind him and tried to go to sleep. Without thinking that lying there motionless might wake the little monsters up. Nope, he wouldn’t think about that at all.

Harper figured that he’d been lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, sleepless, for maybe 20 minutes before his door chimed. "Come on in, Beka."

The bed dipped as she settled down next to him on top of the covers, a long line of warmth along his side. "I was so bored. Rommie could have done everything but that one slipstream."

"Not as exciting a sector of space as was advertised?"

"Not even close. I hear you had a much more interesting time."

Harper turned to look at her. "It’s not all in my head."

Beka’s voice sounded thick as she said, "Yeah."

"And Dylan didn’t tell me that he had Rommie keeping me under extra surveillance."

"Which I’m going to kick his ass over. I understand why he ordered the surveillance, but he should have let you know."

Harper smiled. "Go, Beka. And the near-fight was interesting."

"What near-fight?"

Dylan probably hadn’t mentioned that when he relieved her. "Dylan and Tyr. The testosterone got so heavy in the room that I started getting light-headed and belligerent myself."

"What the hell is Tyr up to?"

"Nothing. Dylan went off on him for nothing."

"Nothing? It’s Tyr."

"Yes, Beka, that’s exactly what I just said."

"It’s always something with Tyr. He’s Nietzschean."

"And Rev’s Magog." Harper sighed. "I should be a basketcase, living on this ship."

"Who says you aren’t?"

"Gee, thanks, Beka."

"No problem." She ruffled his hair. "Did it have anything to do with you sleeping with Dylan?"

"Sleeping. That is all we did."

"Mmm-hmm. Dylan looked kind of... interesting when he told me to go off-shift. He had a bit of a glow to him. It’s a nice change."

"When he saw me spending the night with Dylan, Tyr wondered if we decided to bestow me on Dylan to cheer him up." Before Beka could answer that, Harper continued, "He didn’t think it would be a good idea. But the mental image I have of you as my pimp is pretty damned funny, all chains and high heels and velvet and with a broad-brimmed hat."

"I don’t do velvet. And Tyr needs to get his ass kicked." She yawned.

"And you need to go to sleep."

"So do you."

"A few coffees and a few Sparkies, and I’ll be good as new."

"Or dead." Then she got a horrified look on her face.

Harper ignored it. "That’s always the risk. Take out your braid?"

Beka’s mouth quirked, the situation defused a little, then she sat up and turned her back to him, a gesture of trust. Unwrapping the ribbon and then untangling the extension from her actual hair had a meditative effect with its repetitive movements. He also liked the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers.

She probably thought it was an Earth thing of his, which it kind of was, though not the way she might think. They’d all grown out their hair when they could, but they usually spent much of the year with their heads shaved in response to one infestation or another.

"So, do you want to?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Sleep with him. Ow!"

Harper unclenched his suddenly tight grip. "Sorry."

"No, you’re not." Beka rubbed her scalp a little.

"Do you?" he asked, excessively casual.

"You’ve noticed his ass."

"I’ve seen him in the khakis."

"Mmm. Yeah. Nice hair too."

"Beyond a doubt."

"You’re not answering my question."

"You noticed that, huh?" He handed her her braid.

She turned to face him. "Seamus."

"It was nice, okay? Warm and comforting."

She twirled a tendril of her real hair around her fingers. "I’m sure the sex would be good too."

"But Tyr made a good point about us. He thinks that our deathwishes would be more dangerous if we were together."

"Or you might make each other feel better."

And she accused him of watching too many romantic holodramas. He kept his voice even as he answered, "Until the night the spawn rip out of my stomach and pounce on him as their first out-of-body meal."

Beka went still. "That’s horrible."

"That’s life. Or death. I don’t know much about what I want right now aside from these things out of me in a way that doesn’t involve me being left a bloody corpse." Harper closed his eyes. "Oh yeah, and I want somebody to make it all better for me." To his surprise, she gathered him to her and put his head against her shoulder. She even had one hand on his back and the other at the nape of his neck. Beka wasn’t the touchy-feely type. "You don’t have to--"

"Shut up, Seamus," she said softly.

"Yes, Boss." He could smell the bridge on her as well as her usual scent. All comforting. He closed his eyes and dozed for a bit, then woke with a jerk. "You’re supposed to be going to bed, not letting me sleep on you."

"You must be down. You didn’t even try to cop a feel."

"Hey, that’s one of my ways of worship."

"Uh-huh."

He pulled away. "Since I know you don’t like that kind of thing, I’ve found non-copping ways of worshipping you. ‘Night, Beka."

"You’ll be okay?"

"I’ll be just peachy."

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Harper humped his pillow, impatient for the main event. "C’mon," he muttered. He took in a breath as he felt his lover’s cock pushing at his ass. "Yeah, oh yeah." Then his senses kicked in, detecting a rank smell, the feel of matted fur at his back--

"No!" Harper woke up, panting, his erection wilted, thank Whomever.

The lights came on. "Harper?"

"Just a nightmare, Rommie." A Harper classic, in fact. He’d been getting that one on and off since he’d gotten a sex drive. It’d gone MIA for years after he’d left Earth and the Magog behind. Lately it had been showing up again.

Gee, wonder why?

At least this time he woke up before it got really nightmarish.

He still had two hours before he was scheduled to go on, but sleep didn’t look like a possibility. "Keep the lights on, Rommie. I’m up. Or I will be after a shower and a coffee."

"I suggest you eat too."

"You do care."

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Harper missed rebuilding the bridge: collaborating with Rommie, dealing with design challenges, assembling a variety of gadgets. Whereas if you built one nova bomb, you built ‘em all. It got repetitive really fast. But these little babies would be their main offense against the Magog, so he could deal with some boredom.

Though it didn’t bode well that he was so bored that part of him was hoping for an attack or invasion or something to give him something new to do. He was just about finished with the repairs from the last one. The rest of the repairs had to wait until tomorrow, so today was nova bomb-a-go-go.

The cam showed Dylan coming up to the door and going through all the lock codes he’d set. He was really serious about security for Satan’s little workshop, namely machine shop #5, all very hush-hush. Not being able to tell Beka about what he worked on during the day was a new thing for Harper, but if Dylan wanted him to keep the nova bombs under his hat, he’d do it. Even if he didn’t like the way it felt.

When Dylan walked in, Harper stopped singing "Fly Me to the Moon" long enough to say, "Hey, Dylan," then started up again, scatting once in a while.

"Harper. Are you aware that your shift ended 20 minutes ago?" Trying to put a layer of humor over the worry to sugarcoat it.

"Hunh. Time flies when you’re building weapons of mass destruction."

"How much caffeine have you had?"

"I dunno."

Then, no more humor. "I heard you had a rough morning."

Dammit. Good thing Rommie couldn’t get a vid feed off his mind too. "See, that’s why I didn’t want the personalized attention. I have bad dreams sometimes. Considering everything I’ve been through, it’s amazing I don’t have ‘em more often. It’s human."

"Did you wonder how you ended up in my bed last night?"

Only seven times an hour. Or more. "I figure one of us walked me over."

"You mentioned that you used to sleep together with your family and found it comforting."

"I said that? How drunk did you get me?"

"Very drunk, apparently." Dylan had this almost gleeful, "cool!" look on his face.

"Very drunk. You’re a bad influence. So you heard me say I slept with people, and since you’re a hands-on kind of captain--" Wow, his mouth was big enough to fit both feet in at once. Move along, nothing more to see here....

Most people listening to the steady streams of double entendres coming out of his mouth since this morning would have told him to put up or shut up already, but Dylan just looked amused. "I wanted you to know that it wasn’t just that I’m a pervert."

"Not like that’s a bad thing, or so I tell myself. I feel much better now, thanks."

"You know, Harper, you could stop working now."

Right. "I knew that. I just want to finish this one."

Dylan cleared his throat. "I wanted to try an experiment."

"Yeah? Nova bomb experiment?"

"Not really. You slept well with me. Maybe we could try it again and see if it was a fluke." Very casual.

Harper smiled. "Uh-huh. Sounds more like a scam than an experiment to me."

Dylan smiled back. "Yeah, actually it sounds more like a scam to me too."

Dylan sounded cheerier now. Maybe it had something to do with doing something, maybe feeling a little less helpless. In that case.... "Okay. I’ll give your sca-- experiment a try."

"Besides, you have to get your boots."

"Did I or did I not say yes already?"

"You did."

"Exactly."

And then Harper had to actually finish that last nova bomb because he told Dylan he would and Dylan didn’t seem inclined to leave until he finished. The things he did to keep his reputation pristine....

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Dylan let him get dinner by himself and gather some clothes on his own--real big of him--but around bedtime Harper had a very large and very insistent High Guard captain escorting him over. "I know where your quarters are," Harper muttered. "I’m not two years old."

Dylan had his breezy, casual demeanor going. "I know."

It was working Harper’s last nerve. He sighed dramatically and followed along.

He took his shower in Dylan’s bathroom in a probably not very successful attempt to be annoying, which stung, because Harper was usually the master of annoyance. He had to try harder or lose his crown. He used Dylan’s extra large towels to dry off and then got into his ‘jammies.

Restless, nervous, Harper sat on the bed, locked his arms around his knees and rocked, and watched Dylan do his inventories or something. Since he didn’t have anything else in here to look at, he stared at Dylan... and smirked as Dylan’s body language showed more and more discomfort.

Finally, "Harper, why don’t you go to bed?" Long suffering and annoyed. Score!

"I am."

"To sleep."

"I get nervous when somebody slips in with me while I’m half-awake. So, I have to go in at the same time or later."

"Oh. Could you at least not do this?"

"What? Stare at you like some kind of dandelion-headed sphinx?"

Dylan sighed. "Your hair can’t possibly do that on its own."

"Sure it can, and it gets more ornery if you tell it it can’t. I get horizontal and vertical spikes if I don’t tame it. Or crush it against a pillow under the weight of my head."

Dylan turned off his screen. "I think I’m done. At least I don’t think I can get more work done tonight."

Harper willfully ignored the last, pointed sentence. "Yay." When Dylan flashed a one-finger salute--though he didn’t look like he really had his heart in it--and went into the bathroom, Harper responded with, "Oooh, burn."

Closing his eyes, Harper put his arms out and flopped backward in a sprawl. Dylan’s bed smelled like Dylan and Andromeda’s soaps, the last of which didn’t smell like anything Harper had ever known before coming here. Like a spice he’d never had before. Vedran maybe. Blind and deaf, he’d still be able to know whether he was on the Maru and or the Andromeda.

Of course, the Maru’s less than spectacular air circulation contributed. No matter how hard he worked on it or how many parts he replaced, the Eureka Maru retained a vaguely musty, closed-in smell. Beka liked it and considered it homey. Of course, Beka had once gotten very high on oxygen on a planet they’d been forced to visit once. The moment she went outside. Bang. He’d nearly died laughing at her behavior. Later on, sober, she’d nearly killed him for it.

Dylan had lived on a planet for a lot of his life. Tarn-Vedra. Beka said. God, that he knew somebody from Tarn-Vedra....

"Harper."

Harper cracked open one eye. "Yeah?"

Dylan had an amazingly fond look on his face, making Harper wonder how he looked right now. "You’re taking up the whole bed, and you’re on top of the sheets."

"Oh. Sorry. Didn’t think I’d drop off like that." He stood up and let Dylan choose a side, then slid under the covers on the other.

The lights turned out, but Harper’s eyes stayed open in the dark. It’d been years since he’d slept with family, and every other time he’d had company since he’d been mellowed out by drink or sex first. Right now he felt like his sense of touch ranged further than his skin, making him ultra-aware of Dylan’s bulk, weight, movements, heat, and scent.

"You know," Harper said, "the last times I did this, I didn’t have a toy surprise inside."

"I’m not worried."

"You’re not worried about monsters with teeth and claws making a bloody mess of the guy next to you before they rip into you?"

Dylan gripped Harper’s shoulder. "No."

"Then you’re freaking crazy." Harper tried to get away.

The hand clamped down firmer. "I’m not worried. It won’t happen in seconds, and Rommie’s keeping an eye on you. We’ll put you in stasis if we have to. You won’t hurt me." Dylan stroked slow circles into Harper’s back with the other one.

It felt really nice. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Calm down."

Oh yeah. Easy. "Good thing I’m not real big on dignity."

"Dignity’s overrated."

The circles were putting him to sleep? How old was he? Didn’t matter. Harper let his breathing and heart rate even out and his eyes close.

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When Harper woke up, he was being held again, part cradled and part clutched. Izzy used to hold the raggedy, stuffed thing she claimed was a cat pretty much like this. Might explain what Dylan was getting out of taking his spazzy engineer into his bed.

Harper wouldn’t believe the morning wood he felt pressing into the back of his leg had anything to do with him personally until he had more corroborating evidence. After all, he usually felt morning frisky himself, with or without wrap-around High Guard bedmates.

He could get up, try to get free of the seriously strong arms that had a lock around him, but he kind of liked how warm he felt and the way Dylan’s breath felt against his scalp. Cradled, yeah. Safe. The arms could stand to be a bit looser, but Harper made some allowances for real world conditions.

One of Dylan’s hands brushed up under Harper’s shirt to rest on his bare skin, near his nipple, which amped his frisky feeling up a notch. "Dylan?"

Dylan made a sleepy but happy sound and rubbed himself against Harper a little. Which likewise did wonders for Harper’s friskiness.

Seeing as how this could lead to a bad place--well, Dylan would feel guilty as hell--Harper tried to get loose, but The Arms That Stomped Boston just tightened a bit. No way Dylan was letting his plush something escape.

"Dylan!" Harper said.

Dylan jerked awake, which made Harper groan as his cock reached maximum stiffness. Dammit. "Sorry," Dylan said, sounding embarrassed and letting Harper go.

Dammit. "Thanks." Harper stood and stretched, keeping his back to Dylan, who didn’t need to know that his engineer was up with people, thank you very much. "Be right out."

That was actually a lie, because he spent some time jerking off before he dressed and tamed his hair. But Dylan would want him to be comfortable, so.... Maybe he wouldn’t even notice the small bite marks on Harper’s left hand. With luck, he hadn’t heard the muffled moans either.

The wondrous aroma of coffee brought Harper out of the bathroom faster. "You’re drooling," Dylan said with a smile as he handed a mug over. Then abruptly sat down before Harper could see how he was dealing with his bout of morning friskiness.

"Am not." Harper put his nose over the mug and breathed deeply. "Oh, elixir of the gods." Then he mixed his heaps of sugar in and partook of the blessed stimulant, drinking deeply.

"How did you sleep?"

Harper grinned. "Before you woke me up?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Great. I feel rested and ready to grab my day by the throat and force it to surrender its goodies."

"That’s a good thing, I assume."

"Oh, yeah."

"One night and a half."

Harper smirked. "Not much of an experiment."

"Your night of sound sleep could be a fluke. If you don’t mind...."

"Nah, I don’t mind another night to test it."

"What happened this morning won’t happen again."

Harper shrugged. "It’s fine. No problem. Thanks, Dylan." He finished his coffee and started to leave.

Dylan raised an eyebrow, then asked, "Breakfast?"

"I’ll pick up something in the mess a little later. I need to get doing something right now." And get over the urge to give Dylan a "have a good day" peck on the cheek. Instead, he waved and said, "See ya soon."

Walking through the corridors, he felt good. Bouncy too. Amazing what a good night’s sleep could do.

Tyr walked up and paced beside him, but without the bouncing. "I see that you chose to disregard our talk," he said in greeting.

Harper rolled his eyes. "Good morning, Harper. Why, hello, Tyr, good morning to you too." When Tyr merely looked at him, saying nothing, Harper asked, "There’s some other guy on this ship who looks exactly like me but does what he’s told? You astound me, Tyr."

"My concerns are valid."

Yeah, they were. Unfortunately. "I know. I’m needy, okay?"

"Thus, weak."

"Thanks, Tyr."

"If you’re truly that hungry for contact, perhaps you could stay with me."

Harper stopped walking. He couldn’t walk and have a brain meltdown at the same time. "Okay, I get it. You expected me to listen because you’re a Tyr from an alternate universe. Pod Tyr. What?"

"I know that your hearing is better than you let on."

Sure, he could sleep in the same bed with Tyr. And Tyr could snap his spine like a toothpick if he woke up excited. Or maybe Nietzscheans saw morning friskiness as a function to be serviced like any other, and Tyr would efficiently jerk him off. Harper put his hands over his eyes and shook his head to try to make the pictures stop.

"The thought intimidates you," Tyr said, sounding insufferably smug.

"Intimidated? Horrified is more like it. I’m imagining you goring me with your bone spurs or snapping me in half in your sleep." Harper started walking again, with Tyr following.

"I would never do any of that by accident." With that smile Tyr had been showing off lately. Made him look almost human.

"You’re evil, Tyr. Really, really evil."

"I sense a ‘no’ coming."

"I have some instinctive responses to waking up with a Nietzschean nearby. Flying out of bed and maybe knocking myself out on a wall would not be cool. But thanks for that unprecedented offer and all."

"You’re set on your course."

"‘Course’ suggests that I have a clue what we’re doing, which I don’t."

"I cannot dissuade you."

"Can you ever?"

"I have a few times, with force."

Harper snarled back, "I don’t dissuade easy or without striking back."

"Peace. I don’t intend to try that this time." But Tyr looked weirdly proud of Harper’s reaction. "You do look better rested. Will you at least try to be careful?"

"Sure. Trying not to get myself hurt is my usual MO when I can swing it. Anything else?"

"What are you working on in machine shop #5?"

Harper gave him a slow, dazzling smile. "It’s a big surprise, and I don’t want to spoil it."

"Don’t you want to go inside?"

"Nah. I’ll wait until we’ve finished our conversation and you’ve walked on to spread sunshine and joy to some other part of the ship." Harper rocked back and forth, still grinning.

"I know that you have no patience."

"I do when it’s important. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t."

They stood there in silence, staring each other down, for ten minutes before Tyr growled and walked away. Smug, Harper waved goodbye, waited for Tyr to turn the corner, and murmured, "They all really love me," before putting in his security codes.

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Waiting by Dylan’s door, Harper leaned against the wall, tote at his feet. Dylan smiled and asked, "Why didn’t you let yourself in?"

"Wouldn’t have been polite."

"All right, what have you done with my engineer?"

"I can be polite."

"When you want something."

"Hey, there are plenty of other places I can go to get abused." Harper pushed off the wall in full drama queen mode.

Dylan put his hand on Harper’s wrist. "I prefer you stay here to get abused."

Warm. Nice. Gah. So much for being careful. "Well, when you ask so pretty."

As they entered, Dylan asked, "Did you have dinner?"

"Yep."

"Let me rephrase that. Did you eat anything that would resemble dinner to another human being?"

"Oh screw you. I had a representative from each of the four food groups and everything. I’m staying with a Boy Scout, so I knew I had to be prepared." Harper put his tote down by the boots he still hadn’t taken back after the first night. He sat down in front of the Go set-up and checked out the game in progress. "Who’s winning?"

"I am." Dylan sounded more than a little bit smug.

"You playing yourself or what?" Harper looked back at Dylan and beamed in response to the look on his face.

"Tyr, actually."

Interesting.

"Do you play?" Dylan asked.

"Once in a while, when there’s a board. I’m more of a card game guy. Or darts. Or techie games. Or--"

"I get it. Do you want to--"

"--mess up your game with Tyr? No thanks. Maybe another time. You have anything you have to do before bed? Because I brought some music plugs this time so I won’t be as much of a pest."

"That would be appreciated. Thanks."

So one shower later, Harper was lying on the bed with his eyes closed and ear plugs in, tapping his fingers on his crossed arms to the beat and rocking, mouthing the lyrics. Hey, Dylan had other things to concentrate on than his singing. He made it through the whole album before Dylan, hair damp, dressed for bed, tapped his shoulder. Almost as if they had a routine.

Harper took his plugs out and said, "I really like your ‘jammies." Dark blue, lustrous, and classy looking. Expensive looking too, though maybe not by Commonwealth standards. Totally unlike Harper’s faded, worn-out Natural Fiber X ‘jammies with the pockets he kept a few necessities in. They were old and easily replaced now, but they were his.

Dylan smiled, used to his non-sequiturs, Harper guessed. "Thank you."

This time Harper fell asleep as soon as he pulled the covers over himself and nestled into pillows that didn’t just smell of Dylan and Andromeda’s soap anymore, retaining some of his scent too.

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Harper woke up in the dark breathing on Dylan’s chest, Dylan’s arm draped over him. He felt.... he felt....

This wasn’t careful. This wasn’t even in the same universe as careful.

"You’re supposed to be sleeping," Dylan murmured into his hair.

Harper thought about the way he kept getting wrapped up by The Arms That Stomped Boston and wondered if Dylan had some thing about him not being able to get away. "You’re supposed to be asleep and not aware that I’m not sleeping."

"You have a way of knocking the high ground out from under me."

"It’s one of my many talents."

Harper didn’t know where to put his hands. While squirming to try to get comfortable, his semi-hard cock brushed against Dylan’s already-there cock, putting a shiver of pleasure through him. Oh. Pressed against Dylan this way, Harper didn’t know if he wanted to move or not. Movement equaled friction, but staying still had that gentle tease factor going for it, the both of them breathing faster, shifting against one another slightly.

"I didn’t invite you in for that," Dylan said softly, but in a "I don’t want to take advantage of you" way, not a "will you stop humping me, you slut" way.

"I know." As if he had to constantly deal with people scheming to get into his pants. If only. "But I like it."

He hadn’t even let himself consider wanting Dylan, because what were the odds that it would lead somewhere? He’d accomplished a lot of impossible things in his life, but he still evaluated the probabilities on things he wanted before pursuing them. He’d put Dylan into the "sweet and scenic but never gonna happen" column not long after first meeting him. Right after Dylan’s "join me" speech, in fact. Idealists didn’t generally take someone like Harper, who had all those gray tones from ash to charcoal, on except as charity cases.

Dylan sure felt interested right now, and he knew that Dylan liked him. Maybe really liked him. He didn’t know for sure just how he loved Dylan, but he did. Yeah, he loved Beka and Trance and Rommie and even Rev too, but each in different ways. Hey, he was even becoming fond of Tyr, with the accompaniment of hell freezing over. But he loved Dylan and wanted him to be happy, and sex would be whipped cream and a cherry on top.

Okay, maybe not a cherry.

Harper was going to die, much as a big part of him held on to the hope that Trance would find a way to safely remove the spawn before they woke up and did their everything-must-go warehouse clearance on his insides. Why not grab some happiness before the Magog popped his top?

Except. Except that after his messy and excruciating death, it’d be over for him. Done, no more pain. Game over. But everybody would have to go on without him. Dylan would. Would Dylan welcome the chance to get to know him better before he exited stage left or would it just make it hurt worse when he was gone?

Why did it all have to be Harper’s move anyway? He didn’t want it to be on his shoulders. But Dylan had that whole captain thing going, where he’d feel that making a move would be a command from Andromeda’s captain. As if Harper followed any order he didn’t want to follow. Or had any trouble with the order of "Take your clothes off and come here."

But instead it was all up to him. No happy ending in sight, and with him left with just enough free will to have to figure out which way would lead to the least possible unhappiness.

Harper realized that Dylan was stroking his hair, and he could only respond by rubbing his head against Dylan’s chest and fisting the smooth material of Dylan’s ‘jammies. The heat and heaviness in his eyes and jaw, the way he was shaking, all told him that he had to get away. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to contain it, not wanting Dylan to see him shatter into a million pieces.

He’d managed to hold himself together long enough to have his last major breakdown occur while almost everyone else was off the ship. He could keep himself screwed together well enough to leave the room and find an access tube to crawl into now.

"Let me go, Dylan." He sounded like his jaw was wired too tight. Well okay, since he felt like that.

Of course, it would help if he let go of Dylan first, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Instead he said, "I have to do something. I’ll be back."

"No," Dylan answered softly.

"No?"

"No."

He could feel the fabric start to tear under his fingers. "You have to. You have to let me go, Dylan. I don’t want to be here. I want to go, and you have to let me." He had to stop shaking; he’d never convince Dylan if he kept spazzing out.

In response, Dylan held him tighter and nuzzled his hair. "No, I’m not going to leave you alone."

And that did him in. He retained enough control to leak instead of sob, but the snuffling and shaking had to be dead giveaways. Pathetic. He had to be stronger than this. Even in the dark, he hid his face in Dylan’s ‘jammie shirt, not wanting to take the chance of Dylan seeing this. Even if Dylan could feel it.

He couldn’t stop it, and thinking about it just made it storm through him harder. The little bastards must have been peacefully asleep and dreaming with all the rocking going on. They probably loved this.

Dylan just held him and stroked him and murmured comforting sounding nonsense into his hair. Dylan felt broad and solid and soothing, like a big teddy bear that held him instead of the other way around.

Eventually the crying jag passed, leaving Harper feeling groggy, feverish, and thickheaded. As well as small and helpless in the grip of his own body. His body? Their body, since he shared it with a bunch of homicidal stowaways. He had no control.

"That didn’t make you feel better at all, did it?" Dylan asked.

Harper snuffled, trying to breathe. "Hell no. And I made you soggy. And I don’t think your shirt’ll ever fit right again after the way I pulled on it." But he wanted to move on, since he couldn’t erase what had just happened. Maybe... maybe Dylan wouldn’t realize how deep it actually went, that the chipper Harper-as-usual he saw during the day was a mask over this. Harper could hope. "I have to go to the bathroom. I won’t try to escape. Besides, you could always tackle me if you see me heading for the door."

"Okay." And let go.

Harper tried to ignore the feel of Dylan’s eyes following him as he untangled himself and walked to the bathroom. Once he closed the door, he took a deep breath and turned on the light. Oh yeah, no one could tell something was wrong with him, with his eyelids swollen and his face red and blotchy. So much for the wonders of a Celtic pallor. He washed his face and put a cool, wet cloth over his burning eyes.

"Harper?" Dylan called through the door.

Harper kept his voice as even and casual as possible. "I’m fine, Dylan, but when I’m done in here I’ll have to find something to do with myself. If I try to go back to sleep, I’ll wake up with my eyelids swollen shut tomorrow."

After a silent moment, Dylan asked, "Do you want to play a game?"

"Hunh? You trying to steal my title of the Non-sequitur King?"

"You’ll have to do something to pass the time while you’re not sleeping. I think I noticed a dartboard in the Maru."

"That... sounds good, actually." Harper took the wet cloth off and examined himself in the mirror. He didn’t look anywhere near normal, but at least the swelling and redness had gone down a bit. As close to presentable as he figured he’d get, he opened the door.

Dylan wore a robe that matched his pajama bottoms and was bare-chested underneath it. Nice distraction. It beat looking at the "I’m handling a live grenade" look in Dylan’s eyes. Sometimes being somewhat vertically challenged paid off.

Harper gave him his sunniest smile. "Let’s go."

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"Harper, you shouldn’t have a beer." Then Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Why are you backing away?"

"I’m watching for you to be struck by lightning for your blasphemy. Darts without beer is a crime against nature."

"We’re in a ship in space. I can’t get hit by lightning."

"You’re aware that the Maru, like any other ship, has an electrical system, right?"

Dylan sighed and gave him a fond look. "All right, beer me."

Harper handed him a bottle and clinked his against it. "Cheers. I’m saving your life."

"I’m properly grateful." And showed it by closing and tying his robe at last, minimizing the distraction.

"Don’t go easy on me, now."

"Oh, I won’t."

Not long after that, Harper sighed. "I said ‘don’t go easy on me,’ not ‘kick my ass.’"

Dylan smiled. "Will you ever ask me to kick your ass?"

"Probably not."

He was having a moderately good time, even if he couldn’t get any buzz from one bottle of beer anymore. Dylan was good company, though he didn’t do Harper’s ego any good, and Harper enjoyed the trash talking and dart throwing they were doing.

Harper put his bottle down and stretched his fingers. "Prepare yourself to watch in awe as I start my amazing comeback."

Dylan snorted, so Harper flipped him off.

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Harper woke to the sound of someone clearing her throat. He muzzily opened his eyes, then almost jumped back and hit his head as he saw something with a metal face standing over him.

Then Beka put the camera down and beamed. "Good morning, sleeping beauties."

Dylan, tangled up with Harper, fuzzily asked, "I overslept?"

"Yep. And in the Maru too. What happened here?"

Dylan sat up, half taking Harper with him. He murmured, "Sorry," to Harper, then said, "Cutthroat dart championship. Then Harper’s bunk was closer."

"I never thought I’d see the aftermath of one of those infamous High Guard dart championship orgies."

Harper answered, "Well, no one expects one of those infamous High Guard dart championship orgies."

"I should get up, shouldn’t I?" Dylan asked.

Beka nodded cheerfully, completely awake. Damn her. "Probably."

Dylan’s robe gaped, revealing his very nice torso, as he climbed over Harper. "I’ll see you both later. Good game, Harper."

Harper watched Beka ogle Dylan and sighed. "You kicked my ass, Dylan."

"That’s all part of what made it fun." Dylan closed his robe, smoothed his hair, and exited, every inch the dignified captain who hadn’t just been found snuggling in a bunk on a disreputable freighter with his even more disreputable engineer. Or he just really didn’t mind at all.

Once Beka was done watching Dylan leave, she turned back to Harper and gave him a look. "It’s not what you think it is," Harper said.

"You didn’t have trouble sleeping and decide to play darts, with Dylan coming along because he was with you already?"

Oh. "Okay. Maybe it is what you think it is. What was with the camera?"

"You have to see how cute you two looked together." Beka sat on his bunk. "Your eyelids are swollen."

Shit. "So?"

"What are you doing, Seamus?"

Sure, ask him one of the easy questions. "People keep asking me that."

"People?"

"Tyr too."

"Tyr is asking you about your personal life?"

"Yeah. Look, I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I’m just getting through."

She pulled him over and rested his head on her shoulder, with her arm around him. He didn’t count this as coddling because... because he liked this. He wished he’d gotten more of this during the good times.

"You haven’t pounced yet?" she asked.

"We had a near pounce last night. Mutual pounce."

"And?"

And he had a breakdown trying to decide if it would be fair to Dylan to pounce him when he had an expiration date coming up soon. But he couldn’t say that to Beka.

"All right," she said.

"All right?"

"I don’t need to know."

You don’t? he almost asked. Instead, he said, "Okay. I guess I should get up and get dressed."

"Uh-huh. You might want to do something about your hair too."

"Bite me."

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Harper found Dylan alone in the officers’ mess eating. It sucked interrupting Dylan’s lunch, but at least he wouldn’t have to get into this in front of a crowd. "Hey, Dylan."

"Harper." Dylan’s gesture told him to take a seat.

Best to get right into it. "I missed something in my earlier repairs that just came up in the damages from the Pyrian attack. Sorry. Thing was pretty damned well hidden. I noticed it from some intuitive feeling; it didn’t show up on scans. If not for the recent thing, I might not have found it until it became a serious problem further down the line. It’s in the exotic matter drive."

Dylan nodded, looking concerned but not angry. "If you didn’t notice before, it must have been well hidden."

"Yeah. It’s serious though."

"The exotic matter drive." Dylan leaned his chin on his hands. "What do you need?"

"I have the parts at least. But we can’t get shot at again for awhile." Harper laughed a little with Dylan. "Yeah, I know. And we shouldn’t go kiting around anywhere if we can avoid it. It needs time and peace."

Dylan spent some moments deep in thought, then said, "Come with me."

"Uh, okay. This isn’t about taking me somewhere you can hide a body, is it?"

"Nope. If I worried about leaving a body, I’d just throw you out an airlock."

"Thanks, Dylan. I feel so much better."

Dylan’s quarters. Hmmm.

Nah. Not while Dylan was on duty.

Once inside, Dylan said, "I may be able to take advantage of our problem. Have you heard of Isabella Ortiz?"

Weirdness. But Harper went with it. "Yeah. Didn’t she put together some kind of alliance a while back? About 20 systems or something. Didn’t last."

"No, but I think she could be a powerful force of persuasion for a new Commonwealth."

"If she’s alive and you can find her. It would make sense having somebody other than just us stumping for it. So?"

"I’d like to find her and talk to her to see if we can get her on our side. Since she has a price on her head, we’d be better off searching for her in something less conspicuous than the Andromeda."

Harper could see where he was going. "Like maybe the Maru while the Andromeda’s in the shop at full-stop."

Dylan nodded. "Right. I was thinking that while you were working on the ship, the rest of us could go out looking."

"The rest of you? It’d just be me and Rommie on the Andromeda? Until Rev gets back from wherever?" That really sucked.

"I trust you to take care of her."

That warmed him, even as he thought that he didn’t entirely deserve that trust, not after nearly letting the Andromeda Ascendant blow up not all that long ago during his last breakdown. "You trust me."

"Yeah. You’ve been great in keeping our little nova bomb secret."

"Well. You told me it was important."

"I’m taking Tyr as muscle, Beka as on-the-ground diplomat, and Trance to help us find Ortiz."

Harper smiled. "Diplomat? Diplomacy from the barrel of a gun maybe."

"We’ll probably need that, considering the places we’ll be checking out." Dylan leaned forward. "I know it may get a bit lonely--"

After all of this, how could he complain? Dylan trusted him with the ship and didn’t think he was so fragile that he needed a babysitter. Harper made a sound of derision and said, "I can handle it." He was still useful.

"I trust you. More than I do any other member of my crew."

He did, didn’t he? Not even Beka knew about the nova bombs.

Harper realized that he was rocking from heel to toe a bit in happiness, then stopped it. "I’ll take good care of things. I swear that I’ll have all the kegs and party guests cleared out before you get back."

Dylan smiled. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

"Ooooh, Dylan, what wouldn’t you do?" Harper purred.

Dylan cleared his throat, then got this earnest look. Well, more earnest. "About last night.... I wanted you to know that I would be happy with any time I can get with you. My experience has taught me that it’s better to have something wonderful and mourn it when it’s gone than never reach for it and torture yourself wondering what it could have been like for the rest of your life. Not that I expect to lose you. We will find a cure. I’ll transfer some equipment for Trance to work with on the Maru. If anything serious happens with you while we’re gone, Rommie has orders to put you directly into a stasis pod."

Wow.

"Thanks," Harper said, gaping after having received the green light to beat all green lights. "Then yes."

Dylan beamed. "Yes?"

"Yeah."

Dylan clapped Harper on the shoulder. "Come on. We have a field trip to announce."

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Almost tingling with anticipation, Harper leaned against the door and watched Dylan walk toward him. Slowly. Sadistic bastard.

"Like what you see?" Dylan asked as he finally reached the door to his quarters.

"You are so vain. But I think you need to put more of a strut into your walk. Show off your package more," Harper said, testing.

"I’m not perfection?"

Harper smiled. "Not even close."

"Damn." Dylan sighed. "It’s the last night before I leave."

"You didn’t have to set things up to leave immediately, you know."

"Duty calls."

"Duty sucks."

"That too."

Harper put his tote down next to the boots he still hadn’t retrieved from his first night here. "You have anything you have to do before bed?"

Dylan’s lips tilted into a smile. "You," he purred.

"Good." Harper pounced and was met halfway, Dylan’s lips insistent against his, the scent of Dylan’s lust sharp and obvious. "I spent most of the day thinking about this."

Dylan’s hands slid up under his shirt and stroked along his spine. "I noticed you watching my ass as I made my announcement."

"It’s so round, so firm, so fully packed, so there. It’s a nice ass. I had to look."

"It’s yours."

Nice. It made Harper get misty and hornier all at once. "You are the master of thoughtful gifts." It didn’t sound as flip as it might have.

"I know."

It had been something watching Dylan make his pronouncement, since a smile kept slipping out on Dylan’s face, interrupting the serious captain look. Seeing it then and thinking about it now made Harper feel incredibly sappy, so he said, "Time to get horizontal," to lighten things up. Harper pushed Dylan down onto the bed, then crawled up his body. "You’re really scenic, you know?"

"No. Tell me."

"Vain too. I think I mentioned vain." Harper lost his train of thought as Dylan nuzzled the sensitive skin around his port. "Uhmmm." It triggered his automatic humping reflex.

"All those times I wanted to quiet you, and this is all it took?"

"Quiet? Keep doing that and you’ll find out how loud I can be."

Dylan’s hand slid down his ass and went lower.... Suddenly terror-struck, Harper scuttled backward to put that hand on the small of his back instead.

"Harper?"

Harper gave Dylan a big grin that he knew was shakier than he wanted it to look but couldn’t help. "Just... nothing inside me, okay?"

Dylan’s eyes darkened mournfully, then he pulled Harper up and kissed him before rolling them over to put himself on top. "Hey!" Harper protested. "Hey...." as Dylan tongued his ear and stroked his cock, taking a break from the stroking only to start unfastening Harper’s thigh holsters. Distracting him thoroughly with the touch and press of his warm body. "Want you...."

He was caressing and kissing Dylan back with more enthusiasm than skill, but Dylan didn’t seem to mind. Stripping each other provided a lot of laughs, since they each had shirts to be pulled over their heads and various things to unsnap or unbuckle. Dylan’s hair ended up looking so unruly after his shirt went over it that Harper had to ruffle it further as a show of encouragement. He liked the hair. One of Harper’s boots ended up across the room, perhaps never to be found again, so Harper tried to beat the distance record with one of Dylan’s. Nailed it, too.

With all the kissing and stroking and laughing, Harper felt great. Dylan felt pretty damned good to him too.

But Harper had another bad moment when Dylan started to kiss his stomach on his way down to the main event. A sudden mental image of things clawing up out of his flesh and into Dylan’s face made his whole body lock up and his heart pound. What if they could sense him? "Dylan, no."

"It’s all right," Dylan said against his skin in a voice that should have soothed.

"No, it’s not all right. It’s scaring the hell out of me that they’ll find a way to do something to you." He knew it wasn’t completely rational, but he felt terrified anyway. Pathetic. Harper shook his head and sat up. "I’m sorry. This was a bad idea." Safer for everybody if he just kept having sex by himself, since he was a goner anyway.

God, he ached.

That was it, then. They hadn’t even left him a semblance of a normal life. He’d live some dim shadow of a life until they ripped him open and ended it.

Dylan looked upset, but not angry. "No, I’m sorry. I should have expected that. I’ll stroke you off. And if anything comes for me, I’ll break its neck barehanded."

Whoa.

"Is that all right?" Dylan asked. Honestly wondering, it sounded like.

What else could you say to that? "Yeah. Go ahead. Take me in hand."

"I’ve been so successful with that so far," Dylan said between kisses as he curled his hand around Harper’s cock.

Harper felt his heart start to race from lust again instead of terror. "I pride myself on being a handful."

"That was really terrible."

Harper started to breathe in time with the pumping motion and pulses of pleasure. "You’re not that great yourself, buster."

"Maybe I have to try harder." He did.

"Big improvement," Harper moaned, "thanks. Faster would be good too. Oh yeah. Thanks." Though Harper noticed that Dylan looked less calm and smug once Harper started sucking on his left nipple and kneading his ass.

He’d forgotten that his body could do anything other than scare the hell out of him. He’d forgotten he could feel like this, this kind of good that could just build and build....

He came in an electric wash of pleasure, gasping Dylan’s name. Loose, drained, Harper looked up and smiled as he realized that Dylan had been watching him, and that’s where the stunned, lustful look in his eyes had come from.

One good turn deserved another, so Harper slid down Dylan’s chest and slid his mouth down Dylan’s cock until the tip of it hit the back of his throat. Having a big mouth had its uses. He proceeded to use his tongue and teeth to drive Dylan out of his mind. Dylan lost his mind very vocally and put his hands in Harper’s hair, though he tried to be gentle.

He loved being able to make Dylan feel like that. And he loved the power of it.

"C’mon, c’mon," Harper said around the blunt weight of Dylan’s cock, and Dylan, lost, started to really fuck his mouth. Not too hard, but there was some loss of control there that gave Harper a thrill.

Dylan finally gave it up in a bittersweet rush that Harper hungrily sucked down. Harper eventually let Dylan’s cock go with one last, loving lick and sprawled messily beside him, dozing together. Actual consciousness took a while to return.

Stroking the tips of Harper’s hair, Dylan said, "That was--"

"Yeah." Feeling really sappy but unable to resist, Harper said, "I don’t want you to go."

"I don’t want to go."

Yay! But.... "But it’s important."

"Yeah."

Harper sighed. He knew what Dylan was like. "All right. But I don’t want you doing anything stupidly risky. You’re not endangering my ass."

Dylan sounded amused. "Your ass?"

"You said it was my ass. My property. You’re not allowed to get it blown up."

"You just want my ass left unmolested."

Harper coughed. "You have to stop feeding me lines."

"No."

"Fine. Then it’s your fault what I say."

"I think that’s too big a responsibility for anyone to bear." Dylan kissed his nose.

"Ha ha. No, it’s not just your ass. Your ass has all these attachments I’m fond of too. I want them all to come back okay." Harper yawned. "Sleep now."

"So sex makes you monosyllabic."

"Do you really want to make any hasty assumptions?"

"Hell no."

"Good."

Dylan pulled the covers up over them, and Harper snuggled in. He’d really gotten some, and with no after-sex weirdness from Dylan. Dylan was good. Life was good.

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A sound woke Harper up, but he felt too comfy and mellow to worry, especially when he had this nice warmth wrapped around him from the back. Then he heard that sound again. It was coming from near the door. Someone was trying to hack into Dylan’s lock?

Again.

Damn, but he wanted to kick Tyr’s ass.

Dylan seemed disinclined to let him go, but Harper managed to slide out. Dylan shifted and made a mournful sound, so Harper whispered, "Going to the bathroom. Be right back," to him. Dylan mumbled a response, then rolled into Harper’s spot.

Harper put on his ‘jammies and first-night boots in record time, then opened the door and closed it behind him, knowing full well that he looked and smelled like he’d gotten some. He crossed his arms and gave Tyr a defiant glare.

Tyr flared his mighty nostrils, then got a disgusted look and said, "You don’t listen."

"I do listen. I just don’t always obey." Harper started to walk, and Tyr paced him. "I’m making him happy, and he’s making me happy. He let me know in no uncertain terms that not doing this and wondering what it could have been like would be much worse for him than mourning me when I’m gone."

Tyr made a derisive sound. "Of course he said that; it makes the difference between getting sex and not getting sex. You are familiar with the concept of men lying in such situations, are you not?" But his eyes were gleaming....

Harper nearly exploded into laughter. "How the hell do you say this shit with a straight face?" he choked out.

"I have an iron will."

"The answer to your question would be a yes, thank you. But it’s not like that and Dylan’s not like that."

"Isn’t it? Reproduction may not be an issue here, but I’m certain that Dylan has the same basic desires as any other human male. His previous attachment to you only increases that. You may have noticed that our captain doesn’t believe in letting things go."

"Oh yeah, and much more up close and personal than you have."

"I’ve made my point."

How the hell could he convince Tyr? If reproduction had been a prospect, Tyr would probably be slapping his back while thinking of putting a dagger into it out of jealousy. Tyr was all over reproduction as a reason to take risks. But that really wasn’t a possibility with Dylan.

It wasn’t like Harper had been impregnated with Dylan’s babies, horrific as that would be too.

Oh. Oh, fuck. The little bastards had some of his DNA and everything. He’d known that, but he hadn’t known that....

"Harper!"

Harper shook his head. "I’m fine."

"You are not. And the both of you picked the worst time to make a claim on one another."

"You ever hear of ‘seize the day’? Considering my condition, it makes a lot of sense. Besides, Dylan has plans in place to take care of me here. And you’re going to be going too, so I wouldn’t have had long to stay with you either if I’d gone that route. I’ll miss all of you, like I would have before." Damn, it would be lonely. But he’d been lonely plenty of times before. He’d just gotten out of the habit of avoiding attachments.

Besides, he still had work and caffeine to get him through.

Tyr looked truly concerned. "Will you be all right here? A computer alone is no fit company."

"Rommie’s a doll."

"Precisely. Perhaps you could convince Dylan to leave Trance with you."

Harper couldn’t help smirking. "Well, well. Didn’t take you long to go from saying I shouldn’t be doing this to saying I should use it to change his opinions."

"You’re surprised?"

"No."

"I can think that you’re being foolhardy and still feel that you can take advantage of the situations your foolhardiness creates."

"Look, Dylan has reasons for bringing Trance along."

Tyr went still. "Which he has told you?"

"Yep." It amused the hell out of Harper to watch Tyr’s opposing sides duke it out in Tyr’s eyes. While that was going on, Harper said, "Look out for him, will ya? Help keep him even and from doing anything stupidly risky."

Tyr smiled. "I’m not taking your place in his bed."

Harper flashed his most dangerous smile back. "Better not." The moment stretched, with the two of them smiling at each other to make sure each knew where the other’s claim was, then Harper let his smile slowly fade back into his usual persona. "I better get back before Dylan wakes up for real and goes all alpha on you after looking for me." He shook his head. "I’ll kind of miss you."

"I have to admit that you’re growing on me as well, not unlike a fungus." Tyr’s hand moved, and Harper quickly ducked out of the way.

"If you try to ruffle my hair, I’ll break your fingers."

"You can try," Tyr purred.

"Yeah, I can."

They shared another dangerous smile, this time for slightly different reasons, then Tyr said, perhaps looking a little proud, "I think you’ll be fine while we’re gone."

"You know it. Good night, Tyr."

Tyr shook his head in what looked like exasperation, then left. Harper hightailed it back to Dylan’s quarters, stripped like a whirlwind, and slid under the covers. "Back," he said, and smirked as The Arms That Stomped Boston pulled him right in. He immediately went back to sleep.

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Harper woke to the smell of brewing ambrosia. Coffee, actually. Same thing. He knew he had a goofy smile on his face as he accepted the steaming mug from Dylan. Sweet as he liked it too. Somebody had been paying attention. Not that he wouldn’t drink the stuff black if he had to, but if he didn’t have to....

He’d keep Dylan, yeah.

They sat curled up on the bed in companionable silence, pressed together, having themselves a cozy coffee moment. Dylan wore the silky pajama bottoms again, rendering him overdressed. Harper would have to do something about that, especially since Dylan and everybody would be leaving today.

But Dylan had that look.... "Out with it," Harper said, feeling his heart sink.

"Hmm?"

"Something’s eating at you." If it turned out really bad, then the field trip might be a great idea after all, a distancing thing.

"It’s stupid, and I don’t come out looking very well in it."

Harper snorted, even if the phrasing gave him some hope. "Spill. Or do I have to torture it out of you?"

Dylan sighed. "You had to leave my quarters to go to the bathroom?"

That was it? "You were sleeping so sweetly I didn’t want you to get up. It was unfinished business."

"Tyr?" Dylan sounded annoyed.

Had to nip this in the bud. "It’s cool. Dad just thinks you might be leading me on with false promises to get into my pants before you dump me for the next engineer that crosses your path. Possessive much, Dylan?" Of all the problems that could have come up, Dylan wanting him too much really didn’t rate high on the worry meter.

Though it looked like he might have to train Dylan a bit. That could be fun.

Dylan looked slightly embarrassed. "Sorry. And you came right back."

"Duh. Let’s see. I could talk with Tyr in the corridor or lounge in bed with you. Hmm. Hard decision. I’ll have to get back to you on that."

"When you put it that way."

"Don’t you feel better now?"

"If feeling dumb is better, then yes." Ruefully.

"I can make you feel better."

Dylan smiled and set his mug aside. "Can you?"

Not one to ignore a green light, Harper put his own mug out of harm’s way, then pounced.

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"I hope this isn’t a wild goose chase," Beka muttered as she lugged some cases into the Maru.

Harper shrugged. "At least it’s a way to keep busy while the Andromeda’s sitting around. Me, I have my own things to keep me busy while you’re gone."

Beka gave him a sunny smile. "Yeah, and you got busy last night, didn’t you? Probably this morning too."

Harper smiled back. "You’re disgusting, Beka."

"Look at you, so prim when you’re getting some. It’s cute."

Harper gave her a salute from his forehead that turned one-fingered, and she walked away to stow the gear, chortling to herself. This morning’s in-house entertainment would be provided by Seamus Harper’s sexlife, back for a return engagement after far too long a time off the road. But he didn’t mind that much.

"Be good, Harper," Trance said.

"What? I’m always good." He smiled at her look. "I think I’m good. Hey, do you see what’s ahead for, uhm, us?"

She considered for a moment. "I’m afraid not. If it worked that way, things would be a lot easier."

Worth a shot. "Yeah, I figured. Don’t mess with my work on the Maru, okay?"

"I would never--" Her eyes glanced away from his look. "Not even if it starts making weird noises?"

"Not even. Check with Beka first, and if she says no, don’t do it." Trance pouted, looking frighteningly adorable, but Harper would not budge. "I mean it."

"She always says no."

"Exactly."

"All right. We’ll see you later." She flounced off, tail swishing.

"Bet on it."

"You will not say goodbye to me," Tyr said, a command, not a complaint.

Harper had some thoughts on why Tyr felt that way, mostly involving a need to avoid what sounded like final farewells. Or it could just have been him projecting. "See you later, then. Remember our little talk."

Tyr smiled and purred, "I listen, but I do not always obey."

"Funny guy. Leave the humor to the experts."

"Are we ready to go?" Dylan asked.

"Beka seems to be bolting down a few last things, but other than that I think you’re good," Harper answered.

"Excellent. Tyr?"

Tyr gave Dylan an insolent look but ambled away in response to Dylan’s light, "leave us" tone. Harper had the feeling that Tyr didn’t go too far though.

Dylan put his arm around Harper, not quite a PDA by Harper’s standards but close, and Harper leaned in, saying, "Remember to keep yourself protected and come back. You have to keep my ass safe."

Dylan smiled. "I’ll keep that in mind."

"I’ll be spending the nights in your bed," Harper whispered in his ear, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek that got them a thumb’s up from Beka. "Have fun storming the castle." He waved and disembarked.

On Andromeda’s bridge, Harper watched the Eureka Maru on the screens until it hit slipstream. Then he took a deep breath and ran down a mental list of what he should start working on first.

He had miles to go before he slept.

**********************THE END***********************