Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

THE DAY DISASTER STRUCK

The man’s appearance on the ship was as sudden as it was unwelcome.

Gods only know where the hell he came from, or how this even happened in the first place. All Jimmy knows is that he was in the lounge, enjoying his break while leaving Curly in the cockpit, when the Tulpar lurched violently from one side then to the other, causing the coffee he was holding in his hand to spill all over his flight suit.

The ship’s engine rumbled menacingly. The lights in the lounge flickered, bathing the ship in red lights like they were in some kind of psychological horror game. Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke had hurried to the lounge in a panic, with Swansea yelling out all sorts of curses and demanding to know what was happening to the ship.

A blink. Then two.

The lights returned to normal, the engine an old, steady hum. The ship remained upright. Like nothing had happened.

And there he was.

Curly.

Or so they thought.

As the crew surrounded the man standing in the middle of the lounge, asking for answers as to what just happened, Jimmy noticed a few key differences. Unsmiling eyes, sneering lips, unbuttoned suit. He had known Curly for far too long to not immediately realise that this was not his friend.

Jimmy ignored the crew's frantic questions, instead stepping forward to push both Daisuke and Anya behind him, staring down the imposter. The man smirked upon seeing him.

This is definitely not Curly.

Jimmy glared at him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Daisuke opened his mouth to express his confusion, just in time for Curly, the real Curly, to yank the lounge’s door open, breathing heavily. Everyone turned to stare at the new arrival, then turned back to stare at the false Curly in their midst.

Silence.

Then.

“What the fuck?!”

Jimmy heaved a sigh and rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

Touché, Daisuke. Touché.

What ensued was a staredown of utter befuddlement. For a long time, no one said anything, until Daisuke broke the silence.

“Wha– what is happening? If Captain’s here, then– then who is this?!” Daisuke pointed at the man standing in the middle of the lounge.

With Curly’s arrival, they were all maintaining distance from the two blonds, unsure who was the real deal. Jimmy stood still. That smirking face was pissing him off, and he wasn’t about to get intimidated by this Curly look-a-like.

“You’re not Curly,” Jimmy said without hesitation. Curly does not look at Jimmy like that, does not dress like that, does not hold himself like that. Curly does not act like he is in control, like he expects everyone to answer to him and obey him. His Curly would never look at Jimmy like he was prey.

“Who are you?” Jimmy asked again.

At last, the impostor spoke.

“Depends on who’s asking.” Not-Curly cocked an eyebrow, mouth still curved in an infuriating smirk. He looked around the ship, humming under his breath. He patted his breast pocket, tongue licking over the rows of his teeth and clicking his tongue when he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

Not-Curly looked at Jimmy again, paying no attention to the wide eyes of the others.

“There are certain similarities, but I can tell the ship’s different. What’s the name of the spacecraft we’re on?” He asked, baritone voice clear.

At the question, Curly stepped forward to stand next to Jimmy. He would never admit it, but Jimmy was glad for his captain’s silent support.

“We’re with Pony Express, and you are currently aboard the Tulp–,” Curly answered, but he was cut off by a held-up palm and an annoyed click of the impostor’s tongue.

“Not you,” Not-Curly said. “I’m talking to this one here.” He motioned at Jimmy with a lift of his chin. Jimmy could feel the veins on his forehead throbbing in annoyance.

How dare this asshole talk to Curly like that? How dare he dismiss his crew?

Jimmy gritted his teeth and stayed silent out of pure spite, glowering at the blond. Yet, infuriatingly enough, this only prompted an amused chuckle out of the doppelganger, who stepped closer to Jimmy and grabbed his chin, dragging him nearer.

The pilot jerked his head back, shocked and bewildered at the audacity of this character wearing Curly’s face.

“The hell’s wrong with you?!” He shouted, wiping at his chin.

The man huffed, smiling wide as if this was the most entertaining thing he had ever witnessed. Jimmy frowned.

What’s this guy’s problem?

“How odd,” He said, reaching out again. Jimmy took a noticeable step back out of reach. “You look just like him, yet mine would never talk to me that way.”

What is this asshole going on about?

“Don’t know, don’t care. Tell us who you are first and how you got here. As far as we know, we’re in the middle of space. No one should be able to get onto the ship!”

Jimmy crossed his arms across his chest, sneering at the other man. Curly stood next to him, ready to intervene should things go south.

The other Curly got on his face an amused smirk, eyes roaming Jimmy’s body from head to toe. He took his time.

“Well, I guess it is only polite to introduce yourself when you arrive on someone else’s ship.”

The newcomer put his hands into his pants pockets, eyes staring straight into Jimmy’s glaring browns.

“The name’s Grant. Grant Carling. Captain of the USS Pegasus.”

PRESENT DAY

That was three days ago.

Now, here they are, with another Curly on the ship. The other Curly. Jimmy and the rest of the crew have taken to calling him “Grant” to differentiate him from the real Curly. Or the original Curly, as it were.

Dimension travel. Who would have fucking thought? Not Jimmy, that’s for certain.

As implausible as it were, with no other explanation of how the situation came to be, they will just need to run with the facts. What was that saying again? By that famous author from how long ago? “Eliminate the impossible, then whatever remains must be the truth despite it making no fucking sense”? Or something to that extent. Curly would probably be able to quote the thing, that nerd.

Regardless, there really isn’t anything they can do. They can’t very well drop the guy off in the middle of space and they can’t even begin to figure out how to send him back. As it is, everyone shrugs and decides to roll with the punches. Telling the company is out of the question. They’ll probably think the crew has lost their collective minds.

There is also the matter of adequate supplies on the ship. They will have to stretch it out to accommodate an extra mouth to feed, but they’ll make it work he supposes. What other choice do they have?

The ship’s newest addition has been staying in the lounge, using the long couch as a makeshift bed. Curly, being the bleeding heart he is, offers his doppelganger a spare change of clothes from his wardrobe, partly because that is the only thing that will fit the man.

With no real obligations and work to do, not-Curly has decided that he wants to sit back and see where this will go. He seems to be in no rush to find a way back to his own “dimension”, as he puts it. Something about him having experienced this before and that things will return to their rightful places in due time.

He looks infuriatingly smug and full of himself, sitting back on the couch with his legs apart, taking up space like it is his to dictate. Already, even disregarding his abysmal first impression, Jimmy wants to punch the man in his stupid nose. Something about Curly’s face making such an expression rubs Jimmy the wrong way, not to mention the way those blue eyes keep settling on Jimmy’s figure. It makes the pilot feel like he’s being analysed, like a mouse being stalked by a curious house cat.

“Grant” watches Jimmy every time the pilot walks into the kitchen for his morning coffee. He sits and watches as Jimmy eats. Even when Grant is interacting with others, though it’s not a frequent thing, Jimmy can still feel eyes on him. Once or twice, Jimmy even sees the man hanging about the corridor where his personal room is.

Jimmy shivers.

Whatever this guy’s deal is, it is best that Jimmy stays away from such an obvious oncoming headache. After all, one Curly is already one too many for him.

Grant has been here for just a few hours, and already, Jimmy is the most interesting piece of the puzzle in this dimension.

The eyes are the same, the face is the same, and Grant would bet the entirety of his cigar stash, the body is the same as well. Though, he would like to see it for himself just to be sure.

What interests him, though, is the way Jimmy behaves. This Jimmy doesn’t do subordination, doesn’t listen to commands, and most importantly, doesn’t listen to him. It is such a far cry from the way his own crew usually treated him, how his Jimmy treated him, that Grant finds himself getting drawn to it.

Compared to the Jimmy of his dimension, this version of Jimmy is like a breath of fresh air. The pilot gives back as good as he gets, his remarks getting more sarcastic, more crass, trying to be as insulting as possible. When Grant continues to poke at Jimmy, he is ignored.

Grant is not one to be ignored. What he says, goes, and when he speaks, people listen. Even the Curly of this universe listens when Grant says something, as was observed when he first found himself stranded on their ship.

But not Jimmy.

How unacceptable.

Grant needs to get close, needs to remedy this disinterest and defiance from the man. It doesn’t matter that he’s an unwelcome guest on board, for his need for control far outpaces his desire to be liked.

But he can’t just go in blindly. He will need a plan. And well, Grant does pride himself on being smarter than the average Joe.

Grant starts by watching Jimmy.

Three days, and already he has the pilot’s routine down pat.

Jimmy likes his morning coffee, Grant observes. The man doesn’t seem to be able to function without it.

Each morning, Grant watches as Jimmy sluggishly drags himself to the coffee machine. Two sugars, one-part cream. And if Curly was there, one cup black. It seems the Curly of this dimension isn’t fond of sweets and has set aside his portion of sweetener for Jimmy.

Coffee acquired, then it’s to the cockpit, sometimes Curly walks there with him, sometimes not. Jimmy remains there with the other captain for about seven hours, more or less, which gives Grant complete freedom to start scouting around the ship. The other crew members are otherwise in their respective stations.

He finds Jimmy’s room during those times, identifying it by the extra flight suits hanging in the closet. The door is completely open. It doesn’t seem like the crew’s sleeping quarters have any lock whatsoever.

After that, it’s lunch break. Jimmy likes taking his time eating. He nibbles on his spoon and fork, chewing slowly, almost absentmindedly as he stares into space. He dozes off sometimes, like he didn’t sleep well the previous night, and when that happens Jimmy returns to his room for a quick nap.

Then it’s work, work, work again. Grant wasn’t given an insight into what they even do, but as a spaceship captain himself, he can guess that it isn’t all that exciting. Grant goes snooping again, trying to map out the ship’s layout.

Dinner is a better affair than lunch, and the crew reconvenes to give their report for the day. He sits with them sometimes, the kid with the floral shirt and faded dyed hair seems intent on prying about his dimension’s version of them. This Daisuke is far more talkative than the one he’s familiar with, and he can’t tell if he likes that or not.

He listens, humouring the intern, but Grant’s eyes are on Jimmy and the way the brunet interacts with his crew. Aloof and detached, Jimmy keeps them at arm’s length. All of them, except Curly. Their version of Curly.

Jimmy’s eyes soften imperceptibly when he looks at the man. The way they act speaks of years of closeness. These two must be friends, closer friends than Grant and his dimension’s version of Jimmy.

The big screen shows a starry night, and it’s time the crew retires for the day. Some allotted time for personal hygiene and chores, and then it’s time for sleep. No more than five hours of pure rest.

In Grant’s opinion, this “Pony company” is kind of shit.

It’s a predictable routine, and it’s one that Grant takes full advantage of. After three days of lying in wait and observing, he strikes.

Turns out, it’s the best decision he has made ever since he landed in this universe.

Can it even be called an ambush if the one you’re ambushing knows that you will be there without fail? At this point, he is beginning to suspect that maybe Jimmy likes the attention Grant gives him. Grant will give him more if he likes it so much.

He approaches Jimmy for the first time today since their first meeting.

Like the past mornings, the pilot trudges to the coffee machine on the kitchen counter. He rubs at his eyes, yawning impressively.

‘Kinda like a cat.’ Grant smiles to himself. ‘Cute. Almost.’

So absentminded is he, that Jimmy doesn’t realise how close Grant has gotten to him. Grant leans on the counter next to Jimmy, and the pilot jumps when he looks up to see the other man standing there.

‘Again, like a cat.’

Grant leers at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. Jimmy stares in bewilderment, still half asleep.

“Hey,” Grant starts. He looks on as Jimmy takes a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He steps closer, and Jimmy blinks slowly in uncertainty.

“Uh, hello?” Jimmy turns to start up the machine. He puts the cup under the dispenser and pushes the button. “You need something?”

Grant huffs in amusement.

“Maybe. Depends on what you give me.”

“What does that even mean?” The pilot grumbles. It’s too early for his games, Grant knows, and he doesn’t care.

Grant steps into Jimmy’s space, pressing up against the man. Jimmy skitters backwards. He’s lucky he’s not holding anything hot in his hands.

“Whoa buddy, back up a bit. ‘Personal space’, ever heard of it?” Jimmy asks.

The blond captain only smiles. He stalks after Jimmy’s retreat until he’s looming over the other man. He’s not all that taller than Jimmy, but he’s wider, more solid. He leans down to speak to the pilot:

“I’ve been watching you,–” He sees Jimmy’s glance at the door, and moves so that he’s blocking the man’s line of escape. “– and I find myself interested. You’re very interesting, Jimmy.”

Jimmy looks back at him, and this time, the man is scowling.

“Are you sick? Why are you saying that?” He mumbles the last part, “Fucking weirdo.”

“Maybe I am, but that just means I’m a weirdo who finds you interesting.” Grant grins at him. Then, his voice drops to a lower register.

“You’re pretty.”

That remark gives Grant an immediate reaction. Jimmy hisses like an offended cat, huffing and puffing as he shoulders Grant away.

Grant steps out of Jimmy’s way, delighted with the response.

“Alright, whatever this is, drop it. I ain’t some woman you can harass in your workplace.” Jimmy grabs his cup of coffee and points at his face. “Look closely, I’m a man, you know? M-A-N. Don’t call me pretty, that’s disgusting.”

The brunet puts a serving of sweetener into his coffee.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. If I think you’re pretty, I’ll call you pretty. Don’t really care who’s what. After all,” Grant pauses for dramatic effect, dragging out the tension.

“A hole’s a hole.”

He watches as Jimmy sputters and blushes to the tips of his ears. The pilot’s mouth opens and closes rapidly like a fish, rendered speechless by the vulgarity. Grant roves his eyes slowly over Jimmy’s body, making sure to let him see the deliberate movement, and stops firmly on Jimmy’s lower half. Jimmy follows Grant’s line of sight, breath caught in his throat.

Then, Grant looks back up, right into Jimmy’s wide eyes. Giving a lopsided grin, Grant licks his lips.

Jimmy squawks. He grabs his coffee in haste, moving quickly to the exit door. The brunet opens the door just as Curly arrives before it. His coffee splashes on his white sleeve when he startles at the captain’s presence.

“Fuck! Damnit, Curly!” Jimmy curses. He walks away without another word to Curly, leaving the blond behind. Grant presumes he’s going to change his clothes. Or not. Work is starting soon, after all.

Curly scratches his head as he stares after Jimmy, wondering what on Earth has managed to get the pilot so worked up this early in the morning. He turns back to find Grant standing in the kitchen.

He cracks an uncertain smile, almost like a grimace, and receives a cocked head back.

Curly sighs as he looks after Jimmy. He stands in contemplation before nodding at Grant and leaving after the pilot.

Grant leans back against the counter, smiling to himself. First move, and already, the result is better than he had hoped for. He can’t wait to see what else he can pull from the feisty co-pilot.

It seems that his boredom is about to come to an end.

After that, it's constant. Every day without fail, Grant finds Jimmy. With the layout of the Tulpar firmly mapped out in his mind, it’s nigh impossible for Jimmy to evade or hide from him.

He catches Jimmy every morning, as the caffeine addict can’t help himself from getting his fix despite knowing that Grant is there. He pulls out all the stops, all of his worst and best come-ons. The more outrageous, the better the reaction.

Grant is there, too, when the man sits in the lounge for his lunch break. It doesn’t matter if there are other people in the room, that insignificant tidbit bothers Grant way less than it bothers Jimmy. If anything, Jimmy is even more reactive and easily flustered with people present.

He does find it odd, though, that Curly isn’t usually with the pilot during their breaks. He asked Jimmy about it once, and all he got back was a grumble and a mutter of “captain duties” from the pilot. He changed the topic and started messing around again when Jimmy looked more and more downcast at the mention of the other captain.

Then, when Jimmy clocks off from work, Grant is hanging around for the time the brunet has to himself. Once, he managed to catch Jimmy just as he came out of his room after taking a shower, hair wet and dripping, a small towel draped over his neck. He was dressed in comfy shorts and a loose tank top. The thin fabric sticks to his wet skin, low collar giving Grant a glimpse of tan skin and one dark nipple.

Grant knew then that if he played his cards right, he could be in for a real treat.

How would it feel for his hands to grab that slim waist? For his fingers to curl into that brown hair, tugging, pulling. Would Jimmy look at him with defiance in those brown eyes, still? Or would they turn molten, complacent?

Calm. He needs to be calm.

This is just a game, something fun to pass the time. He didn’t start this as a sexual pursuit.

Still, he will not mind if things escalate in that direction. Grant, at his core, is an opportunistic scoundrel.

To his surprise, Curly and Jimmy aren’t as attached at the hips as he first thought. He sees Curly here and there, sometimes managing to catch the tail end of their conversation, but he finds Jimmy alone more often than not, just wandering the ship by himself.

The pilot always looks at a loss, like he doesn’t know what to do by his lonesome. Grant turns up to approach him, and Jimmy lets out a small genuine smile just to let his face drop when it becomes clear that it’s not Curly standing before him.

Jimmy is lonely, Grant realises. It seems that his “Captain Curly” has been leaving him all alone, unattended.

Lucky for them, Grant is here to fill the vacant spot.

The bastard won’t leave him alone. After three days of normalcy and peace, Jimmy finds himself becoming the object of interest to sate Grant’s boredom.

Now, everywhere Jimmy goes, every time he does something, or even when he’s doing nothing, Grant is there to pester him about it.

Getting some coffee in the kitchen? He’s there, leaning on the counter:

“How do you drink yours? Black? With milk? Cream? Do you like cream, Jimmy? I can give you some.” – accompanied by an outrageous wink for added effect.

Eating the company’s shitty prepackaged slops in the lounge? He’s there, sitting right across from Jimmy:

“I like the way your mouth works. It would look better wrapped around something else rather than this fork you’re gnawing on. Something long, something thick.”

Outside of his room after his allocated 5-hour “nap”? He’s also there, back against the wall next to Jimmy’s door:

“Feeling worn out? I know of a way to wear you out better, but my way will leave you begging for more.”

There, there, and there.

For the last five fucking days, he’s everywhere. Everywhere!

It’s almost like he knows where Jimmy is at every moment’s notice, knows every nook and cranny of the ship. It’s damn creepy.

Every quip the man makes is somehow a come-on, every gesture and touch suggestive. Worst of all, he’s using Curly’s face and voice to do it! Goody-goody Curly? The whiplash Jimmy has is out of this world. It drives Jimmy insane. If this continues, he might just kill everyone on this ship and then himself!

Is this sexual harassment? It must be. The man appears before him at every corner of the ship, his presence a shadow to Jimmy’s constant annoyance. And that is not to mention the way he talks, the way he brushes off Jimmy’s discomfort at their constant proximity. He feels uneasy, his space invaded.

‘Is this what women feel like all the time?’ He admits he was not able to understand nor cared what they meant when he first heard about it, but now he does. He vows to never dismiss their concern ever again.

Even now, the infernal headache is not leaving him in peace. Jimmy is currently going through his laundry basket, fully expecting to be alone for once since the arrival of the unwelcome man. He should have known it was too much to ask for.

Grant stands behind him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He is dressed in the blue cargo pants he arrived in and the yellow Pony Express t-shirt, the fabric stretching over a broad chest and curling biceps, fitted like a glove. He looks just like Curly, and it is tripping Jimmy up.

Blue eyes burn into Jimmy’s skin. Grant stays silent.

“Are you just going to stand and stare at me?” Jimmy asks, fed up with the scrutiny. He doesn’t think his laundry is all that interesting.

Grant gives him a self-assured smirk, the sight of which makes Jimmy’s heart double its rate. Curly has always been an attractive man.

“Yep.” Grant replies, popping the last “p” and making Jimmy’s eyebrows twitch. He huffs distractedly, pulling his clean clothes into his arms.

“Hells. You’re even weirder than Curly. Aren’t you supposed to be him?” Jimmy stands up with his armful of clothes, feet kicking the laundry machine’s door to close it.

Turning around, he nearly goes face-first into ample pecs. Grant stands before him. For someone of the man’s size, he is silent on his feet. Jimmy did not hear him move. Grant leans down a bit, getting into Jimmy’s face and making him step back involuntarily.

“I’m not him. Thought you of all people should know that.” Grant steps forward again, crowding against Jimmy. Both of Grant’s hands settle on the machines the pilot has just used for his laundry. “I’m better.”

Jimmy looks around at the arms caging him, and scowls. This fucker is so full of himself.

“The fuck are you trying to do, weirdo? Your momma never taught you about ‘boundaries’?” He tries to shoulder against the offending appendage, but Grant’s arms remain unmoved. This is getting really old, really fast. Jimmy narrows his eyes, lifting his chin and sighing through his nose.

“Can you please fuck off already?”

Eyes stare a moment longer into Jimmy’s brown ones. Jimmy stares back, refusing to lose the battle.

“You really are different.” Grant murmurs, something like amazement filling his voice.

The fuck?

“Different? Of course I am. There’s only one of me here.” Never mind the fact that if there is another Curly in some alternate universe, there’s probably the same number of Jimmys in those places as well. Whatever, right now, Jimmy’s the one and only “Jimmy” here.

Grant looks at Jimmy a while longer, eyes trailing the top of his head, down the slope of his nose and stopping at his mouth. Pink lips curl into a faint smirk. Jimmy’s breath catches. A rough hand comes up to rub a thumb at the scar bisecting Jimmy’s lips.

The pilot jolts his head backwards. He bristles like an offended cat.

“Watch it, buddy! Who said you can touch me?!” His teeth are bared as he hisses at the infuriating blond, painting Jimmy in a, no doubt, unflattering picture. But he doesn’t care. That was out of line.

Grant seems undeterred. If anything, he smiles even wider at that. He puts up both his hands in a surrender motion, stepping back from Jimmy. The brown-haired man takes the chance to push past the aggravating oaf to get back to his cabin.

Just as Jimmy is about to slide the laundry room door shut, he hears Grant chortle to himself.

“Ah, the kitten got teeth.”

Anger and embarrassment highlight Jimmy’s face, making his ears burn.

Who the hell is he calling a “kitten”?!

This must be some kind of cosmic retribution, Jimmy thinks, for all the times he was mean to Curly in his youth.

As far as he knows, the other crew members don’t get the same interest from Grant as Jimmy does. He tried asking the others about it, but the answers he got back were varying degrees of “He stays out of my way” - Swansea, “He quips a joke or two at me sometimes” - Daisuke, and “He doesn’t really talk to me at all, but does nod whenever we cross paths” - Anya.

Jimmy doesn’t want to ask Curly. It’s weird enough that his best friend has to deal with another guy wearing his face running around the ship, Jimmy doesn’t need the man to know that the same guy also harasses his co-pilot slash subordinate on a daily basis. The conversation that most likely follows will be extremely bothersome.

It confuses Jimmy, the way Grant has been acting towards him. Certainly, there is another “Jimmy” where the man comes from, so he really does not get the interest he’s being shown here. If Grant’s words about how there are different versions of themselves are to be believed, then it’s not like Jimmy is an anomaly in this particular universe.

Not only that, but Grant is so different from Curly and yet so alike, it confuses Jimmy. While Curly is more laid back, maybe even passive, terribly polite and conscious of other people’s comfort, Grant is no such thing. He has no regard for Jimmy’s space, speaks whatever is on his mind, and is a menace through and through.

The man also seems used to getting what he wants, asking for no permission to do anything and fully expects his questions to be answered, orders to be followed. Granted, most of his “orders” are aimed at Jimmy. Simple commands like “come here”, “answer me”, or “look at me when I’m talking to you”. It almost feels like the man is testing something, with how often he does it.

Jimmy always refuses to engage with Grant when he pulls shit like that, choosing to ignore him instead. Jimmy’s petty, and he embraces the fact.

Yet, for some unfathomable reason, Jimmy ignoring Grant only spurs the man on. Grant doesn’t order him around anymore, now that it’s established that Jimmy does not respond well to that, but his frankly inappropriate advances get worse in compensation.

Where is HR when you need them? Not that he would trust Pony Express’ HR department to do anything worthwhile. Still, he would be able to tell someone, at the very least.

Telling Curly? Out of the question. Everyone on the ship already sees how Grant acts around Jimmy, and despite them trying to tell Grant off, it doesn’t deter the man in the slightest. Jimmy told them to just ignore him and leave it at that.

The pilot wants to pull his hair out, but he doesn’t want to go bald just yet. What a dilemma.

Chapter Text

Curly, the real Curly, really doesn’t like the other Curly on board. Or “Grant”, as the crew has taken to calling him. Despite wearing his face, the man, in Curly’s opinion, is an insufferable, egoistical, maniacal, grade-A asshole.

There’s just something about his counterpart that throws Curly off. A different personality notwithstanding, the man doesn’t seem to get that he’s an interloper whose presence is merely tolerated by necessity.

Curly dislikes the way Grant makes himself at home, unconcerned with anyone else’s comfort. He dislikes the way Grant’s voice carries, how he talks over others like he expects everyone to bend to his whims. He dislikes the way the man takes up space as he sits, as he stands, and as he walks. He hates the fact that the other man is even here at all.

Most of all, Curly hates the way Grant keeps trying to get close to Jimmy. Grant is touchy and demanding, with not a care or respect for personal boundaries. He hates the hands that keep trying to touch Jimmy, the way the man leans over the pilot whenever he reads something, the way he stands close to talk to Jimmy. And he hates the way Grant’s eyes, so similar to his own, would follow Jimmy whenever the pilot turns to leave. He hates the way those eyes leer at Jimmy like his best friend is a piece of meat, and Grant is starving.

Curly would never look at Jimmy like that, speak to him like that. He would never be so ill-mannered as to subject Jimmy to such a demeaning thing.

It is a good thing, though, that Jimmy is as stubborn as he is petty. The pilot still holds a grudge against Grant for the way the man had grabbed and talked at him during their first meeting. Every time Grant makes a pass at Jimmy, the move is immediately rebuffed, usually followed by a sarcastic or downright rude comment. He seems to dislike this Grant character just as much as Curly does.

So it’s alright, he supposes. Before long, the man will return to his own dimension, if his words are to be believed, and everything will go back to normal. Curly can return to being Jimmy’s best friend, spending time with him without the constant interruption of a doppelganger wearing Curly’s face.

He can also stop feeling so unnerved at the look on Grant’s face whenever Jimmy is around, a look Curly recognises as the same as his own when Jimmy’s not looking. Lustful, covetous.

Curly has it under control. He won’t let his feelings for Jimmy get in the way of their friendship. He won’t let Jimmy find reasons to run from him.

Jimmy can rest assured that Curly is still his safe place, still someone he can fall back on.

Curly isn’t like Grant at all, who looks at Jimmy with naked want.

He’s not Grant.

And Grant cannot replace him.

Curly is still a good friend, a good captain.

He’ll be able to keep Jimmy if he keeps his feelings to himself.

Five days in, and the sixth day rolls over since the moment Grant arrived on the ship.

Grant is standing close, too close, to be appropriate, to Jimmy. In fact, Curly thinks the man is trying to fuse himself into Jimmy’s body, with the way he keeps trying to get closer and closer to the shorter man.

The other captain has only been here for a few days, and already, he’s a thorn in his and Jimmy’s sides. No one really knows why, but after three days of no action, Grant has developed a vested interest in the co-pilot of the Tulpar.

Curly is concerned, and frankly agitated. Is this not harassment? Is this not interfering with the crew’s morale?

He decides he needs to speak to Jimmy about this issue. If Jimmy is having trouble, then it is in Curly’s job description to help take care of his crew.

Jimmy is sitting in his pilot’s seat, fuming after another one of his encounters with Grant. He’s mumbling expletives under his breath, face splotchy with embarrassment and irritation. Curly watches as the pilot gradually calms down, visibly taking in a deep breath. His eyes divert their attention to Jimmy chewing at the inside of his bottom lip, a habit Jimmy has had since the day Curly met him.

‘Gosh, that’s so fucking cute.’ A stray thought passes through his head.

Curly shakes his head to rid himself of it. What is he even doing, thinking about a grown man, his best friend, like that? If Jimmy can hear him, the brunet will no doubt run for the hills.

“Jim,” Curly starts.

Jimmy looks at Curly from the corner of his eyes and hums. “What is it?”

Curly sniffs as he thinks about how to start his question. How can he say this without making Jimmy feel like he’s being ridiculed? The pilot is so very sensitive about how people view him.

“Just spit it out, Curly!” Jimmy says impatiently.

“You’ll tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”

‘Someone’, is what Curly actually means to say.

Jimmy’s brows furrow. “I guess? Why? Is something the matter?”

“No, no.” Curly waves his hand. “It’s just. Well, Grant.” He finishes lamely.

“What about him?”

“I mean, if you need any help with pushing back his advances, you can always count on my support. I’ll step in if you need me to.”

Jimmy snorts derisively. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do? He doesn’t seem the type to back down by a few strongly worded reprimands.” Jimmy turns back to stare at the screens. “If anything, it would just make him more persistent if you give him the time of day.”

Curly doesn’t like the sound of that at all. There must be something he can do.

“Then what should I–,”

“Just–leave it. Just leave him be, alright? I’ll handle it. I’m handling it,” Jimmy tells him. “The guy’s just bored. He’ll leave me alone after he gets it out of his system sooner or later.”

Curly taps his finger on the armrest of his chair. He thinks it over. Curly would much rather interfere and tell Grant to back off, but if he does, Jimmy might think he’s being needlessly meddlesome. His friend has always been the type to not let himself seem weak in front of others. Curly has no doubt if he were to defend Jimmy outright, the pilot might take it as a sign of Curly disregarding his wishes and trying to make him look like some damsel in distress.

Jimmy would hate that, and then he would hate Curly.

That’s not something Curly can endure. He won't be able to bear it if Jimmy pulls away from him.

“I’m serious, Curly. It’s nothing, I promise you,” Jimmy insists after not hearing a reply. “Besides, you have more important things to do than something as stupid as this, right? ‘Captain’s duties’ and what-not.”

There’s a slight tone of resentment in Jimmy’s voice. It’s enough that Curly feels guilt licking at him at the underlying accusations. In his effort to hide his affection, Curly has been keeping himself away from Jimmy. He made excuses, things like “I’m busy”, “corporate called”, or “Captain’s duties”, to try and get away from his friend whenever he feels like he’s about to snap.

It’s so difficult to keep himself in check when Jimmy is here with him for hours on end, in a locked room that’s completely soundproof, alone. It drives him insane to only be able to look but not touch, not in the ways he wanted to. Curly tries not to be too touchy with Jimmy, in case he slips and exposes how he actually feels about his co-pilot.

Curly is a damn liar. There isn’t anything that should occupy him so much that he can’t spare the tiniest bit of time for his friend. He just chooses not to.

“Alright,” Curly says after a brief silence, “But if things escalate, let me know, alright? It’s not just about you, it’s about crew morale as well.”

Lies, lies, lies.

Everything is about Jimmy. Everything Curly does, he does it for Jimmy, because of Jimmy.

Curly doesn’t give a shit about crew morale, not when his sole attention is on Jimmy and Jimmy alone.

Jimmy lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Aye aye, ‘Captain’.”

And that’s that. The day goes on without a hitch. The two of them work together like a well-oiled machine. A few more days, and hopefully, Grant’s interest in Jimmy will wane.

Day seventh, then eight.

He looks on as Jimmy alternates between blushing and fuming at the escalating advances.

Curly has had enough.

Grant is in a bit of a situation. And he himself is entirely to blame. He’s having fun, maybe even a little too much. With nothing for him to do on the ship, the crew not trusting him enough to let him pry into their business, he has been entertaining himself by latching onto the sullen co-pilot.

If the Jimmy he knows is a tidal wave, seemingly calm and composed on the surface while hiding intense emotions behind the facade of a mild-mannered but competent man, this Jimmy is more similar to fireworks, like dry ice in hot oil.

To many, Jimmy can be considered to lean more on the quiet side. Sure, he makes the odd sarcastic quip here and there and can hold up a conversation well enough. However, Jimmy doesn’t speak unless directly spoken to, doesn’t do long rambles or answer questions in too many words that give out information about himself, and most importantly doesn’t initiate conversation.

Except.

Except when he’s angry, annoyed, agitated. He speaks then, sometimes explosively.

And angry Jimmy does get. He’s easily riled up, argumentative, and reactive. The fact that Jimmy can seemingly dish out dirty jokes and comments yet can’t seem to take it when they get turned back against him is just the icing on the cake.

It gives the dimension traveller even more incentive to want to tease and poke at him just to see him glare and pout. It gives Grant a kick in seeing the heat of his eyes and the way his speech stutters. And it makes Grant want to see how far he can take it until Jimmy breaks, to see his face redden and ears flushed.

Jimmy’s a challenge, a game, and Grant has always been competitive.

Grant has been staying in the lounge, and that gives him an excuse to interact with Jimmy whenever the man comes to get his coffee or eat.

Such as this moment.

It’s lunch break, and Jimmy has come to the lounge for some food, the disgusting packaged stuff their company, Pony Express, had provided them. Grant never in a million light years would have touched the thing. But alas, he supposes that beggars can’t be choosers. What’s different today, though, is that Curly, the one that belongs to this universe, is here with him.

‘How surprising.’ Grant thinks, smiling to himself. ‘This will be fun.’

He calls out to Jimmy.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite co-pilot.” He gets up from his sitting position on the white couch to approach the brown-haired man, seeing Jimmy tensing up before letting out a resigned sigh. At least he knows that Grant is not to be denied. There’s nowhere to run within the confines of the spaceship.

Next to Jimmy, he sees the Tulpar’s captain narrowing his eyes and shuffling closer to the pilot. His arm hovers around Jimmy, close, but doesn’t dare touch.

Interesting.

“I’m the only co-pilot here, idiot.” Jimmy huffs, shouldering past Grant to head deeper into the room.

Grant chuckles, turning around to match Jimmy’s stride, crowding against him.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he answers cheekily.

The pilot glances at the other man through the corner of his eyes, then rolls them upwards in exasperation.

“Whatever. What do you want?”

Jimmy walks over to the kitchen to make some food, making two portions and handing Curly a plate when he’s done. The two of them head to the dinner table, sitting down with Jimmy on one side and Curly next to the pilot.

Grant pulls out a chair, positioning himself across from Jimmy. He props his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning on the table. His intense blue eyes focused on Jimmy.

“Can’t I just want to be close to you? Maybe I just want to be your friend.”

Jimmy snorts. “Uh-huh. And I’m sexually attracted to horses.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I have something horse-like for you to be sexually interested in.” Grant wiggles his brows.

And just like how he predicts it, Jimmy sputters and turns an interesting shade of red. The blush runs from the high of his cheeks, curling over his ears and spreads down his neck. Grant wonders how far down the colour goes.

Jimmy gestures for a napkin, prompting Curly who’s sitting nearer to the box to retrieve it for him. He wipes at his mouth and levels a glare at Grant.

“Ugh! You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, it’s the truth.” Grant smirks at him. Jimmy’s left eye begins to twitch uncontrollably. “I’ll let you see it for yourself, let you touch it even, but only if you ask nicely.” He adds a wink for good measure.

Jimmy only sneers at him before turning back to his food, shovelling the spoon into his mouth. It seems he’s trying his best to block Grant out.

That won’t do. Where’s the fun in that?

Grant leans back in his seat and stretches out his legs, ankles knocking against Jimmy’s. The pilot glares at him, and Grant gives him a smirk in return. He chances a glance at Curly and sees his eyes narrow, fist clenching where it lays on the table and decides to push forward.

Grant slides his boot-clad foot along Jimmy’s calves, watching closely for his reaction. Jimmy sticks his hand down under the table to slap Grant’s offending foot away. But Grant is not deterred. His foot continues on its path until the sole presses onto Jimmy’s crotch. Jimmy slams both of his hands on the table and stands up abruptly. His face is bright red.

‘How sweet.’ Grant smiles inwardly, loving the reaction.

“Fuck off!” Jimmy yells, voice cracking at the end. He takes his plate of food and stalks away to the trash bin, dumping the entire thing down the chute. Curly stands to follow him. Grant can see Curly’s teeth grinding together, but the other man remains silent.

Grant calls out as the two leave the room.

“The offer still stands if you want to take me up on it, kitten!”

Jimmy doesn’t look back, but he holds up a middle finger directed back at the blond-haired man.

“Choke on your own dick and die!” He pauses, then adds as an afterthought, “And I’m not a cat!”

As Jimmy walks away, Curly stands for a while at the door, jaws tense and eyes shooting daggers at his doppelganger. If looks could kill, Grant would have died ten times over. Grant notices him, and levels a stare back. He smiles at the other captain, cocking his head to one side, daring the man to do something.

A fight with himself will be interesting, at the very least.

There’s a certain way the other captain positions himself when he is with Jimmy. A bit too close, too overly protective over a man who he claimed to be just a friend. Something else is brewing underneath the surface of the two’s relationship, and Grant is too observant to simply dismiss it outright.

If Grant’s lucky, and he usually is, he might just have found another source of entertainment for this impromptu dimension travelling trip.

To his disappointment, Curly only huffs and turns away to follow Jimmy back to the cockpit. Grant wrinkles his nose, disgusted with the other’s passivity, and goes back to the lounge. He can not wait to see Jimmy again after the man’s work shift.

Now, if only he had something to do to pass the time. Time moves differently in different dimensions, and he could be stuck here for a month or more, while barely an hour has gone by where he came from.

Where does one get a cigar when one needs it? He thinks he’s suffering withdrawal from the lack of nicotine, and messing with Jimmy is just barely enough to scratch the itch he’s been feeling.

Oh well, if needs must.

This is worse than Curly thought. Much worse.

It was the right call for him to accompany Jimmy to lunch today. If Curly had known something like this had been going on, he wouldn’t have been so remiss as to let Jimmy eat alone these past few days.

Just like every other action Curly has taken to avoid outing himself to Jimmy, he has made excuses to stay away from the pilot during lunch.

Months ago, he found himself zoning out during his lunch break, staring at Jimmy’s mouth as it moved instead of eating his food and realised that he had a problem. He had started daydreaming about Jimmy’s lips, his mouth, how it would feel wrapped around his–

Curly stopped going to eat with Jimmy after that.

And it proves to be a mistake after Grant’s arrival.

Curly catches up to Jimmy as the pilot tries to walk as fast away from the lounge as possible. He turns back to face Jimmy, making the other man stop in his steps. Jimmy flinches slightly as Curly looks at him. He doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it makes Jimmy glance around nervously.

“What was that?” Curly asks, “What did I just witness?”

Jimmy fumbles with his hands, the movement quick before he curls them into fists to stop the motions. “Nothing! He’s just–!”

“Just what? He’s stepping out of so many lines I don’t think I can even keep count!” Curly steps forward slightly in his vexation, missing the way Jimmy steps back.

“It’s not as bad as you think! He’s just being more annoying today for some damn reason!”

“Annoying? You call that ‘annoying’, Jimmy?” Curly hisses out. Calling what Grant did “annoying” is a big understatement. He can’t believe Jimmy isn’t taking this more seriously, especially when it’s Jimmy himself who’s being affected.

He continues without waiting for a reply, “From where I’m standing it’s harassment. He’s harassing you, Jim!”

Jimmy huffs in annoyance. He crosses his arms across his chest.

“Maybe! I don’t know!”

“You don’t know.” Curly repeats, his voice flat.

“He’s messing around, that’s just what happens! Can guys get harassed anyway? It’s nothing for you to be worried about.”

Curly closes his eyes tight, praying for patience before opening them up again. He focuses his eyes on Jimmy. “Nothing to worry–! Of course I’m worried! Let me intervene, I’ll tell him to back off. You don’t have to do this alone!”

Jimmy looks away from Curly’s eyes, chewing on his lips nervously.

“T–that’s not necessary. It’s nothing so bad that requires your attention. I’m sure he’ll stop when I’m no longer a novelty.”

Curly feels like he’s losing it. Jimmy is being even more stubborn than he usually is.

‘Men can’t get harassed?’ What type of outdated mentality is Jimmy spouting? Even if he doesn’t want to seem weak, it won’t do to delude himself about something as clear as this.

Doesn’t he understand that Curly is trying to keep him safe? Can Jimmy truly not see it? Grant’s eyes hold a threat, a promise. The man is looking to do more than just simply tease and poke at Jimmy.

Curly knows it, because he recognises the same look on his own face.

But he can’t tell Jimmy that. He can’t tell Jimmy that Grant wants to eat the pilot up alive because that means Jimmy will also know that Curly wants him the same way. He needs an excuse, something reasonable enough for him to be able to interfere without making the man uncomfortable.

“No, Jimmy. You don’t get it. You’re ‘crew’, and I’m ‘captain’. I have the responsibility to make sure the crew is well and taken care of. You’re one of mine, so I need to look after you!” Curly argues, and he finds it to be true as the words are spoken out loud.

Jimmy is his crew, his subordinate, his friend.

Jimmy is HIS.

Why is Jimmy being so difficult about this simple concept?

The pilot scoffs. “Yeah, well, ‘Captain’, I don’t need your help. I have it under control. I’ll take care of it!” Jimmy stands taller as he steps forward, urging Curly to back away.

“I don’t need your obligatory concern.”

With those words, Jimmy walks away from him.

‘Fuck,’ Curly thinks to himself, ‘that did not have the effect he hoped for.’

But this won’t be the end. If Jimmy insists on dealing with the problem himself, then Curly will make sure that happens with his own two eyes. He needs to be there with Jimmy as his friend navigates the infuriating newcomer on their ship. Jimmy cannot be left alone with someone like Grant.

Curly needs to start spending time with Jimmy again, and not just counting the hours they have every day working together in the cockpit. He can no longer hide behind his excuses and avoid his co-pilot.

Curly needs to start accompanying Jimmy where he goes. Because wherever Jimmy is, Grant is sure to be there.

Jimmy’s hoping to not run into Grant today, not after the fiasco from yesterday’s lunch. How embarrassing, and Curly saw all of that! It is a small blessing that the entire crew wasn’t there to bear witness to his humiliation. Jimmy can’t get over the fact that Grant’s face is a carbon copy of Curly, and watching Curly watching Grant, who is just Curly in another font, is an experience he has no wish to endure again.

What rotten luck. Jimmy shouldn’t have let Curly go and eat lunch with him yesterday, knowing Grant would be there to bother him. But he has missed his best friend, missed the normalcy and camaraderie of their interaction despite always denying it so. Curly has been so busy these past years that it makes Jimmy feel like his friend is avoiding him on purpose. That didn’t go down well. Jimmy curses himself for being optimistic.

Curly had taken Jimmy to the side after they left Grant in the lounge, asking him to explain what just occurred. It was the first time since Jimmy took up this piloting job with Curly that the man had seemed so angry, so disappointed that it almost made Jimmy recoil in shame. Jimmy told him to not worry about it too much, that Grant was just messing around because the man was bored, but that only made Curly that much more frustrated. Seeing Curly furious wasn’t something Jimmy had experience in dealing with, so he lashed out, like always.

Today, for some reason, Curly insists on accompanying him everywhere, brushing off Jimmy’s protest. Curly’s more pushy than usual, but Jimmy chalks it up to the fact that the man had witnessed something disturbing enough to require his attention or even intervention.

Something like seeing someone with his face and body hitting on his best friend who he has no romantic or sexual interest in. It must not have been a pretty sight, seeing himself making moves on someone he would never have thought of in such a way.

They’re doing a general check-up for the day. That usually means the Captain needs to go and check up on each of their crew members, as well as inspect the state of the ship, see if everything is in working order.

But Curly wants Jimmy to go with him today, and without any other work to do, Jimmy has no real reason to refuse. It’s not like he can just fall asleep whenever, or for however long he wants. It also has the added bonus of helping him avoid Grant, so there’s that.

The two have just begun to wrap up the inspection process when Grant shows up to meet them on their way back from the med bay. He’s sauntering up to Jimmy, and the pilot bites back a curse and braces himself for whatever it is the man is about to say.

“My adorable pilot! There you are. I’ve been looking for you!” Grant comes up to sling his arm around Jimmy’s shoulder in a familiar gesture, pulling the pilot into his broad chest, a filthy smirk on his face. The expression looks wildly out of place with Curly’s features.

Jimmy subtly tries to push him away, conscious of the way Curly is staring at the display, but that only prompts Grant to unwind his arm across Jimmy’s shoulder and wrap it around Jimmy’s waist instead. His breath hitches slightly, and Grant zeroes in on the reaction like a shark that smells blood.

Grant presses himself closer to the pilot, talking to him in a deep voice, low and casual. Almost affectionate.

“How is my little kitten doing? Did you miss me?” He rubs his face against Jimmy’s hair, smelling it. Jimmy pushes him away harder, angry indignation making a comeback upon hearing the nickname.

“I told you I’m not a cat or kitten or any of that shit! Get off me!”

The infuriating blond only laughs, unconcerned with Jimmy’s ire. “Then what should I call you then, kitten? Baby? Princess?” He leans down to growl into Jimmy’s ear. “My pretty little thing?”

Jimmy flushes, his breath caught. He yelps and shoves Grant away, rubbing at his ear to clear the feeling of Grant’s breath blowing on it.

“You–you! Fuck off!” Jimmy exclaims, mortified at the man’s impudence. He looks back at Curly, suddenly remembering his presence, and sure enough, the other captain is standing there, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

Jimmy glares at Grant, hissing through his teeth, “I’m not your anything, and I’m not pretty, or little! So stop calling me that!”

He stomps away without waiting for an answer, leaving the two blonds behind. His face is hot, from both the inappropriate names he was called and the fact that it was someone with Curly’s face calling him such things. It’s degrading, and weird, and–

And Jimmy, for the briefest of moments, has imagined Curly calling him such names and liked it.

How would he have reacted, if Curly, the real one, had called him his instead?

Jimmy’s face burns. This line of thought is pointless. This is just some kind of temporary space madness. He hopes Grant can go away soon, so that these feelings he has can stop getting dragged onto the surface by an insufferable man wearing Curly’s face.

“Kitten?”

“Princess?”

“Pretty little thing?”

There’s a buzzing in Curly’s ears. His blood is lava churning inside his veins. He’s having trouble keeping himself in check.

Is Grant fucking serious? Who is he to call Jimmy such things? How dare he. How dare he say what he just did?

Not even Curly dares to call Jimmy such degrading words. Who is Grant to be able to do so?

Who is Grant to make Jimmy blush?

Beside Jimmy, Curly narrows his eyes at his counterpart. The bastard has come to mess with Jimmy, yet again. He feels a bit forlorn at not being asked for help, Jimmy choosing to keep this problem from reaching Curly’s eyes and ears to spare himself the embarrassment.

It is clear from how he saw the two interact in the lounge and just now that this is more than Grant being a general nuisance. This is harassment, pure and simple.

Curly can’t understand it. It’s his job to ensure his crew is safe and taken care of, so why does Jimmy insist on dealing with the problem himself? Does Jimmy not trust him? Has Curly done something to make Jimmy stop relying on him? Has he found out about Curly’s feelings for him?

His mind reels as he stares at Jimmy and Grant and the way they interact. He stares as Jimmy fumbles and blushes, as he chews on his lips and averts his gaze. He hears as Jimmy’s breath hitches and stutters. He fumes silently.

Curly should be the one making Jimmy do that. He should be the one making colour rise on Jimmy’s face, making him act shy and flustered.

Grant is looking at him. There’s a challenge in his eyes. Curly looks back, hostility unhidden.

Jimmy storms away, and Curly uses this moment to turn to his counterpart. Grant cocks his head at Curly, mouth curling up in amusement, eyes daring, waiting for him to react.

The bastard is enjoying this.

“Just what are you trying to pull?” Curly seethes.

“Me? Now what do you mean?” Grant feigns ignorance. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

Curly snorts. He rolls his eyes before staring back at Grant venomously.

“You’re being a nuisance to one of my crew. It’s affecting his performance at work and I ask that you stop.” Curly says through gritted teeth.

Grant strokes his chin, acting like he is considering it. Curly feels his temper rising up at the act.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” he says, “As far as I know, the ship’s still upright, so he’s doing his job well enough. Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind much, does he? I’d say he likes my attention.”

Is this bastard blind? Can he not see how uncomfortable Jimmy is?

Before Curly can retort, Grant continues:

“You’re just his captain, so why the overly concerned act? It’s not like you’re his boyfriend.”

There’s something in the way Grant says it that puts Curly on edge. His tone is too knowing, his use of the word too deliberate for it to be a mere passing comment.

“I don’t see how that got anything to do with this. We’re colleagues. Boyfriend or not, Jimmy is my friend and subordinate.” Professional. Curly has to stay professional and not give away his real thoughts.

Grant looks at Curly with vague contempt. “Colleagues. Right. Then I see no problem with me pursuing him. You’ve no grounds to stand on, oh Captain.”

“That’s not–, I don’t–. I won’t stand for it regardless.”

“Why don’t you ask Jimmy what he wants you to do, hm? I’m sure he’ll be happy for you to interfere if he truly hates it so much.” Grant smiles smugly as he continues. “But seeing how you’re doing this behind his back while staying silent when he was here, he must have told you to not get involved, am I correct?

Curly feels his heart rate speed up. How does Grant know about this, about what Jimmy told him? He narrows his eyes but doesn’t reply. Apparently, his silence is enough of an answer because Grant scoffs.

“Jimmy doesn’t need you guarding his chastity. So run along, mutt. You don’t want to disrespect his wishes, do you?”

With a last derisive smirk, Grant turns to walk away, not at all concerned with showing Curly his unprotected back. Curly can only stand back with his tongue tied, having been thoroughly read by his counterpart.

He glares at Grant’s retreating figure, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. Curly’s mind churns.

Claw his eyes out, make him blind, so that those eyes can never gaze upon Jimmy again.

Chop off his hands, so that he can’t touch Jimmy a second longer.

Break his neck, so that he stops talking, whispering into Jimmy’s ears pretty names and flirtatious words.

No good. This is no good for his carefully maintained and curated composure.

This has to end. Curly can’t leave this be any longer, not when this predator is hounding his friend relentlessly. He has to be by Jimmy’s side, he has to stay with him.

Curly decides he can’t afford to leave Jimmy alone after what he has witnessed.

Chapter Text

‘Finally done for today.’ Jimmy thinks to himself. He stretches his arms above his head, spine making a satisfying ‘crack’.

Another day passes, another day of dealing with Grant and his persistent pursuit. He spares a glance at Curly, seeing the man updating the daily log before pulling up autopilot. He sighs inwardly.

Curly probably won’t want to go with him anymore, after witnessing those two instances back to back. Maybe he’ll say he’s busy yet again, just to have an excuse to stay away. And who could blame him? Who in their right mind would want to stay with Jimmy?

Jimmy looks at the captain again, noting his concise movements, the neat way he wears his flight suit and his professionalism. Curly has cleaned up well as he grows older. He’s more serious now, a captain, a leader, a role model. He isn’t so casual with his touches anymore, doesn’t really hold Jimmy’s hand like he did when they were kids. He doesn’t drink with Jimmy until both of them black out, just to wake up and find themselves sleeping on top of one another. Curly doesn’t have time for Jimmy anymore.

Averting his gaze, Jimmy stands. “Alright, I’ll be going now.” He says to Curly as a way to announce his departure. “Gonna go get lunch, or a nap.”

“Wait.” Curly turns to Jimmy, making him stop on his way in surprise. “How about I go with you instead?”

Dark brows rise on his forehead, Jimmy looks back at the man who’s starting to rise from his chair.

“What for?”

Curly shrugs, smiling faintly. “No reason. Maybe I just miss hanging around you.”

“Right,” Jimmy says slowly, dragging out the syllables. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your twin, does it?”

“He’s not my twin.” Curly huffs. “But I don’t know. Maybe. It depends. Would it piss you off if I say yes?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Curly, it’s nothing. I told you.” He crosses his arms across his chest. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to follow me like I’m some damsel in distress.”

Jimmy says that, but inside, he’s jumping a little. Perhaps Curly has started to find time for him again. Maybe Grant’s arrival will somehow let Jimmy have Curly close once more. Maybe he’ll stop feeling so lost and alone on this spaceship despite having his friend as his colleague and captain. He can’t help but let out a pleased chuckle.

“But I won’t stop you if that’s what you want to do. You’re Captain. It’s your call.”

“Yeah?” Curly perks up. He sounds hopeful. Jimmy bites the insides of his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling too much. Curly acts like a puppy dog whenever he’s excited. He looks even more handsome this way.

He hums in acquiescence. “Let’s go then, before I change my mind.”

Jimmy walks out of the cockpit, leaning on the wall next to the door as Curly finishes up his work. And just his luck, Grant appears as he waits for Curly to come out.

Damn.

“Hello, princess.”

Jimmy snorts. “‘Princess’? Not ‘kitten’?

“Well if you like me calling you ‘kitten’ so much, you can just say so,” Grant says as he steps closer to Jimmy. “I can be persuaded.”

“Pass. I could care less what you call me.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Grant chuckles, “Waiting for someone then, kitten? Your guard dog?”

Jimmy’s hackles rise. First ‘kitten’, now it’s ‘dog’. Is this guy trying to make an animal shelter out of this crew?

“Curly’s not–!”

“Who said anything about him?” Grant cocks his head. “But I got my answer regardless.”

Jimmy huffs. “Whatever,” he says, then falls silent. From the corner of his eye, Grant is still looking at him. For some reason today, the man doesn’t seem inclined to talk more. His eyes are, dare Jimmy say, tired. He looks a bit drowsy on his feet.

“Hey,” Jimmy decides to bite the bullet. Perhaps he can blame it on simple curiosity. “You doing okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Dunno. You look… off. You look sleepy.”

Grant shrugs. “It’s cold at night.”

“Oh, uh.”

Jimmy forgets how old this spacecraft is. The air conditioning is always either too cold or too hot. Grant must not have gotten a good sleep these past few days. Perhaps Jimmy should just keep his mouth shut, and leave the conversation hanging. Yet, for some reason, he finds that he cares about Grant’s comfort.

It’s because he’s a guest, a guest who looks like Curly. Yeah, that’s why.

He looks back into the glass panel of the cockpit door. Curly is still not done with whatever it is he’s doing. Jimmy turns back to Grant, clearing his throat. He lowers his voice.

“Come and meet me tonight,” Jimmy says.

Grant blinks at him. He looks bewildered for a second before schooling his face and smirking.

“Finally decided to take me up on my offer, kitten? Why I– ack!”

With courage that stems from pure exasperation, Jimmy reaches out as Grant talks to pinch him sharply on his forearm. “No, you idiot! I’m just–!”

The door to the cockpit slides open as Curly walks out at that moment. Jimmy springs back from where he’s crowding against Grant, face twisted in annoyance. He regains his composure just as Curly turns to him.

Jimmy watches in real time as Curly’s relaxed face and gentle smile directed at him darken, mouth curving down in displeasure when he sees Grant standing there. Curly steps forward, pushing Jimmy behind him and glares at his counterpart.

“What are you doing here?” He hears Curly say as he stands behind the blond. He steps around Curly to see what’s happening.

Grant glances at him, a quick movement of his eyes before holding up his hands and stepping back.

“Just leaving, good Captain.” Grant nods his head at Jimmy, making Curly move to shield Jimmy from the other man’s sight. “I’ll see you then, kitten.”

With that, Grant walks away. The remaining two stand there for a moment to watch the man’s shrinking figure. Curly turns to Jimmy when Grant is out of sight.

“Where are you heading, Jim?” He smiles again, kind, gentle.

Jimmy thinks about how Curly’s been acting whenever Grant is around and decides that maybe skipping lunch will be a wise choice, seeing how Grant is usually at the lounge. Maybe they can hang out, like the old times.

“Are you hungry, Curls? Because I’m not in the mood to eat anymore. I’m thinking we can go somewhere else to hang out.” Jimmy proposes. It’s a rare thing for him to actively ask for time with Curly, but unless he wants another instance of the two blonds butting heads, he’ll have to get creative. “I got a deck of cards in my room. Poker?”

Curly looks at him. It must be because of the low light, but Curly’s eyes appear to look darker than normal. His gaze smoulders, and Jimmy suddenly feels like he’s standing before a predator coiled to strike.

But that’s a silly notion. If anything, Curly’s a golden retriever. A goofy, fluffy goldie.

Maybe Grant is right in calling Curly a dog.

“No,” Curly tells him. His voice is low, tinged with something Jimmy can’t make out. It’s almost similar to how Curly talks when he’s chatting up a girl at a bar. “I’m not hungry at all. Let’s do as you say, then.”

Jimmy smirks as he turns to walk to his cabin. “Alright then. What are you betting?”

“Dunno. What are you betting?” Curly hurries to walk next to him. He thinks about it. There aren’t a lot of things Jimmy has in abundance to place them on some game for fun.

“How about, if I win, I shave your head,” Jimmy says as he imagines Curly with a bald head. He snickers to himself.

“And if you lose?” Curly asks. He sounds amused but not offended. Maybe Jimmy can get him to shave his head for real.

Jimmy scrunches his nose and lifts his chin. “Who says I’ll lose?”

“If you lose, then…” Curly stops as he thinks it over. “...then I cut your hair?”

“You’re shit at cutting hair, Curly! No fucking way!” Jimmy can still remember the first time Curly cut his hair while they were flying another long haul for Pony Express. He’s never letting Curly touch his hair again. Swansea had laughed at him for the entire day after he revealed his new haircut, and Anya couldn’t look at him in the face without snorting her water out of her nose.

“Then what?”

“Hells if I know! Choose something else!”

Curly hums. “Then if you lose, you shave your beard.”

“Ugh!” Jimmy groans. His ‘beard’ is more of a stubble currently. He’s trying to grow it out again. He thinks it makes him look more distinguished and hides his round cheeks and face. He thinks he looks weird without it, despite Curly telling him otherwise.

“You know what. Sure, why not. If you win, I’ll say goodbye to this handsome face of mine. But if I win, you’re going bald, blondie!”

Curly laughs, the familiar sound of it makes Jimmy grin to himself. It’s been too long since they get to unwind with work hounding them 24/7.

“Deal.”

They reach his cabin, and Jimmy beckons Curly inside. They don’t bother changing out of their suit, seeing as they still have work after the break. Jimmy shifts through his bedside table to take out a deck of cards. He waves it in Curly’s face before settling down on one end of the bed.

“Get ready to say goodbye to your hair, pretty boy! This is life or death, so don’t count on me going easy on you!”

“In your dreams! We’ll see how it goes soon enough!” Curly’s smiling at him, neat, pearly teeth showing. Jimmy has to reign in his blush.

“Whatever. Get to shuffling, cowboy!”

They get into the game, both delighted at a break in routine.

Half an hour goes by, then an hour, then two.

…

Fucking Curly.

Jimmy lost. Big time.

Curly is whistling as he sits next to him in the cockpit, eyes blinking in fake innocence every time Jimmy looks over.

‘What a smarmy asshole.’ Jimmy huffs in annoyance.

Yet, he finds that he doesn’t actually mind the loss. It has been a while since the two of them catch up, since they have the time to simply enjoy each other’s company. It’s a good change, he decides.

They’re reaching the end of their afternoon shift, and Jimmy yawns as he feels fatigue creeping on him. He did trade his nap for spending time with Curly, after all.

“Maybe you should clock off early, Jimmy. You look dead on your feet.” Curly comments. “I’ll take over your share. I know things haven’t been too great ever since that… guy, appears.”

Jimmy rubs his eyes as he considers Curly’s proposal. Maybe he should take the offer. Curly is captain, at the end of the day. If even he is suggesting that, then who is Jimmy to refuse?

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.” He lifts his arms above his head, letting out a satisfied groan as his back gives a little ‘crack’ sound. He hears Curly exhale shakily. That’s… weird.

“Maybe I should rest. I don’t even feel hungry today.”

“I can–,” Curly’s voice cracks as he replies. He clears his throat. “I can handle the rest of the shift. Go rest up, Jimmy.”

“Captain’s order.” Curly smiles as he adds, letting Jimmy know he’s just saying it in jest.

Jimmy stands. He salutes as he heads out of the room. “Roger that, Captain.”

The cockpit door slides close, and Jimmy rubs at his neck as he yawns yet again.

He really needs to sleep. This bout of insomnia has been hounding him ever since the new guy’s arrival.

Jimmy beelines for his personal quarters, mind already going through what he wants to do once he gets to his destination. He can’t wait to be able to rest his back.

He arrives at his door and squints his eyes as he sees someone standing there.

Curly?

“Hey, kitten.”

Grant.

Fuck. Jimmy has forgotten that he asked Grant to find him tonight.

“Hey you,” Jimmy sighs out. What did he want to do with Grant here, again?

Grant snorts at him. “Just who looks sleepy now, hm? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Mm-hm,” Jimmy hums, “Speaking of sleep. Wait here, alright?”

Grant cocks a brow, but he obliges. Jimmy hurries to the storage room, quickly pulling out some spare blankets and a pillow. He returns to see Grant still standing obediently outside his door.

‘So this guy does know how to listen to orders as well.’ Jimmy thinks to himself.

It makes sense. If Grant is “Captain”, then surely there’s someone else whose rank precedes him. Jimmy wonders what type of “Captain” Grant is supposed to be. He’s too authoritarian to just be some small fry flying some cargo ship.

“Here you go,” Jimmy says as he tosses the items in his hands to Grant. “For the cold. Sorry I didn’t do this sooner.”

Grant is looking at him. There’s surprise in his eyes, like he doesn’t understand why Jimmy is being nice to him. Jimmy supposes he can’t answer that himself, either. He has no reason to be doing this, but for some unfathomable reason, he doesn’t have it in himself to let Grant stay discomfited if he can help it.

‘It’s the face, Jimmy.’ He tells himself. ‘It’s his face card. Because he’s Curly.’

“Well. If that’s all.” Jimmy turns to walk into his room, but Grant’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“Wait,” Grant says softly, “Since you’re already here, I want to ask if there’s a communal shower somewhere? Can’t find it.” Grant shrugs as he finishes.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been washing yourself these past days?”

“I have been. Been using the shower of that intern of yours.” Grant sniffs. “He’s… talkative.”

“Yeah, that’s Daisuke for you.” Jimmy winces in sympathy. Daisuke can be a bit much, sometimes. Jimmy didn’t know how to deal with his endless questions and energy when they first met either.

“Maybe–,” Jimmy cuts himself off. Is he really going to do this? Even after all of Grant’s remarks and actions towards him?

“Maybe you can use mine instead.” He is. Jimmy is doing this.

“Really?” Grant looks at him in genuine surprise. He smiles, a tiny bit of hope shining through. For a brief second, it’s Curly, looking at Jimmy.

Oh no.

“Yeah, really.” Jimmy averts his eyes from those warm blues as he feels his face heat up. Curly and Grant’s faces keep overlapping. Maybe Jimmy’s hallucinating. “But only when I’m here to monitor you! I won’t have you snooping around my room.”

Grant nods. There’s something weird in the way he’s looking at Jimmy, something like contemplation.

“Deal.”

Fuck. He sounds just like Curly. Jimmy needs to get away from him. He needs to sleep whatever “this” is off.

“Done. Now go away. I want to sleep.” Jimmy adds when he sees Grant’s mouth open, eyes crinkling in familiar amusement, “Alone.”

Grant smirks at him, and Jimmy wonders if he should retract his offer. It’s too late now, and he doesn’t want to look like an ass, taking back his words right after he’s given them.

“As you wish, princess.”

“Ugh!” Jimmy rolls his eyes. He walks inside his room and slams the door in Grant’s face.

Fuck him for trying to be nice, seriously.

‘He would like to do this more,’ Curly thinks to himself. ‘He wants to spend more time with Jimmy.’

It was hard to not react when Jimmy invited him back to his room. Curly was so certain his desire had shown on his face when Jimmy suggested they hang out alone playing poker, of all things, in close quarters not encumbered by thoughts of work and surrounded by lit screens. His mind had slipped, unchecked, into thoughts of Jimmy and him in the pilot’s room, on his bed, playing.

Curly can think of other ways to play with Jimmy. Ways that involve the both of them naked, with Jimmy crying his name as he f–

Jimmy yawns next to him, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘Perhaps Jimmy should rest,’ Curly thinks. He tells Jimmy as such.

Then, Jimmy cracks his back, and moans.

Curly grits his teeth and wills himself to stay calm. Their shift is almost over, Curly can get through this without doing something he’ll regret, like pulling Jimmy down into his lap and kissing him, or pining him down and putting a mark on that slender neck. His prayer is answered when Jimmy leaves, and Curly sits alone once more with his thoughts.

Despite initially complaining about it, there is no denying the fact that Jimmy had let Curly stay instead of trying to send him away. He’s visibly pleased, Curly can tell. Happy and surprised, like he doesn’t believe Curly would still want to keep him company after the captain witnessed what happened with Grant.

Then, Jimmy asked to spend time with Curly, time that the pilot could have used to rest or do anything besides keeping Curly company. Curly can count on one hand the amount of time Jimmy reaches out to him willingly for anything. From the start, it has always been Curly who approaches Jimmy, who asks to spend time together and stay together. It was also Curly who introduced Jimmy to this piloting job because he had missed Jimmy too badly to keep leaving him back on Earth.

Has Curly truly been so neglectful of his friend? So much so that Jimmy, “I-don’t-need-anyone” Jimmy, has gotten so happy to just be near him?

Curly swallows his guilt. What he did was for Jimmy’s own good. Who knows what would have happened had Curly not taken steps to remove himself from Jimmy’s immediate vicinity? The hours they spent alone together are already enough to make Curly slowly lose his grip on his inhibition and sanity. Even just then when he and Curly were playing cards in Jimmy’s room, his mind kept going down paths that could have made their interactions going forward incredibly difficult.

Curly sighs. Grant’s arrival has changed everything. The man doesn’t know when to quit, and his eyes whenever he looks at Curly seem to be conveying something. A threat? Or a challenge? Perhaps it’s both.

Whatever it is Grant intends to get out of him, Curly won’t let the man make him lose control.

Taking a deep breath, Curly starts punching in the code to access the daily ship log. It’s nearly time to clock off, and he doesn’t wish to spend a second longer stuck in his lonesome surrounded by the glaring greens of the screen lights. He finishes up his work for the day, putting in the timer for both his and Jimmy’s shifts before standing up.

Perhaps he should get some dinner before he prepares for bed. But that means crossing paths with Grant in the lounge, and he doesn’t want that to ruin his good mood after his game with Jimmy just hours before.

He decides to trudge back to his Captain’s cabin.

Yet, Faith seems to want to play him for a fool. Just as Curly is about to round the corner to pass by Jimmy’s room on the way, he sees the person who’s been plaguing him and Jimmy’s peace of mind for the past week.

Grant.

He’s standing outside next to Jimmy’s room, seemingly bored out of his mind. He’s dressed in the clothes he came here in, cargo pants and a yellow long-sleeved shirt, upon which there’s a sigil of an arrowhead of some sort pinned on his chest.

Why the fuck is he here? Why must he keep hounding Jimmy every step of the way, even to his bedroom door?

Curly is just about to walk up to the man, intending to tell him to get lost when he sees Jimmy hurrying back. Curly stands still, curiosity overriding his displeasure.

There are a few blankets and a small pillow in his arms as he bounds over to Grant. They look relatively new, and Curly figures he must have gotten them from the storage room.

But why does he need them in the first place? Jimmy has never complained about the temperature in his cabin room before.

Curly gets his answer when he sees Jimmy toss the items to Grant, who accepts them gratefully.

Grant has been waiting for Jimmy, and for Grant to be here at this hour, Jimmy must have asked for him to be here.

The thought of Jimmy ever warming up to Grant of all people is harrowing.

But maybe Jimmy is simply being a good host. Perhaps Grant has been pestering Jimmy about this issue and he’s only doing this to get Grant off his back. There can’t be something else brewing under the surface of the two’s relationship just mere days during the time Curly hasn’t been around Jimmy to guard him against Grant’s interest.

But that’s not all there is to it.

Curly clenches his fists as he sees Grant smile genuinely, surprised when Jimmy acts civil with him still. He listens as Jimmy offers the man his shower, blushing faintly at Grant’s gentle words. He watches as Jimmy acts far more accommodating for someone who doesn’t deserve such niceties. He sees it as Jimmy treats Grant like he would treat someone like a friend, like he would treat someone like–

– Curly.

No.

That can’t be.

Curly isn’t so easily replaceable that Jimmy is already latching onto someone else within days of Grant being here. Especially when he’s someone who has been making Jimmy’s life more difficult with his presence. Curly has been the one to stand by Jimmy’s side all along, through everything in their youth, through all the shit Jimmy drags him through. Jimmy can’t be getting attached to someone else who is more or less a cheap copy of Curly.

But wasn’t it Curly who decided to leave Jimmy behind to pilot for Pony Express all those years past? Wasn’t it also Curly who decided to quit drinking with Jimmy because he had gotten too close to pining Jimmy down to his bed after waking up with Jimmy half-naked, clad only in his sweatpants?

Wasn’t it Curly who left a vacant spot in Jimmy’s life for someone else to occupy, a spot he only just now tried to claim back as he asked to accompany Jimmy in an attempt at thwarting Grant’s advances?

‘It would make the most sense,’ Curly deduces. Grant looks like Curly far too much for Jimmy to not confuse himself between the two, and Grant is far too attentive towards Jimmy for the pilot to not get the tiniest bit attached to their frequent interaction. Curly really should try to be by his friend’s side more often, even if it’s just so Jimmy can be reminded of who the real Curly is in his life.

Curly startles as Jimmy slams the door shut in Grant’s face with an exasperated sound. He cracks a smile at that. At least Jimmy is still as quick-tempered as ever.

Curly expects Grant to leave afterwards, but instead, the man stands there for several moments, simply staring at the door to Jimmy’s room. There’s a look on his face that rubs Curly the wrong way. Surely, Grant isn’t thinking about joining Jimmy in his room? The room isn’t locked, and Jimmy is defenceless in his fatigue. It would be so easy for someone to just barge in.

He decides to let himself be known. Curly steps out from the corner, and in an instant, Grant notices him. He narrows his eyes just as Grant’s mouth curves into a smug smirk.

“Ah, the good Captain. Here to see our favourite co-pilot? It seems we have the same thing in mind.” He gestures towards the pile of beddings in his hands. “The pretty kitten is truly a gracious host, as you can well see.”

Curly sneers at him. “If you already got what you wanted, then I suggest you leave. Jimmy doesn’t need you disturbing his rest.”

Grant looks at his face for a long moment before inclining his head. “Does Jimmy know you can make this kind of face as well? Careful, Captain, you’re turning green, and it’s not a pretty sight.”

Starling at the words, Curly hurries to school his face. But it’s too late, and Grant scoffs as he walks up to Curly.

“I’ll give you this. You’re good at playing this upstanding role you’ve squeezed yourself into. It must have worked out for you if you managed to keep the act up until this age of yours.” Grant’s shoulder bumps into Curly, the impact making him jerk back slightly. “I wonder how long it will take until that mask cracks.”

Curly turns to look at Grant as the man passes him, catching one blue eye when Grant shoots Curly a look over his shoulder.

“I wonder who’ll suffer the brunt of your true nature.”

Curly swallows, tongue-tied. He wonders it himself, sometimes. How long can he remain a good and loyal friend when wicked thoughts of his best friend keep plaguing his mind? When all he can think about is how to strip the clothes off of Jimmy’s back and make him scream Curly’s name? How long can he keep to himself until he breaks?”

“I’m his captain and boss. I’m looking after his well-being.” He settles on saying, knowing his argument is weak in the face of someone who can read him like the palm of his hand, someone who’s another him.

“Sure,” Grant says, voice growing smaller as he walks away. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Curly stands still after Grant is gone from his sight, jaws working in agitation. He tells himself Grant is just trying to get a rise out of him, and to his horror, it’s working. He needs to calm himself down, needs to be vigilant in reigning in his reaction whenever he and Grant cross paths. He needs to respect Jimmy’s wishes to not interfere and let his friend deal with the problem in his own way.

It’s fine. Curly can do that. He can take a step back and let Jimmy take the lead.

What he won’t do, though, is let Jimmy be alone on this spacecraft. Curly has been irresponsible as both Captain and friend to have let Jimmy feel like he’s an outcast after putting him up for this piloting job, and it is up to Curly himself to remedy that.

Tomorrow, he’ll accompany Jimmy once more. And he’ll do that the day after next, then the day after next. He’ll be next to Jimmy just as they once were before, attached at the hips. If Curly’s lucky, perhaps Jimmy will ask to share another game with him, just the two of them.

Once more, they’ll be Curly and Jimmy, Jimmy and Curly.

There’s no need for another "Curly" in Jimmy’s life, not when he’s here to give Jimmy what he needs.

Grant walks back to the lounge, holding the items Jimmy has given him in his arms.

Contrary to what Curly is led to believe, Grant isn’t always so forward and shameless in his approach to Jimmy. He might speak crassly and frankly, but he’s not so flagrant as to grab or grope at Jimmy the way he did the last two times Curly saw them together.

What he did, he did on purpose.

And the purpose is to see Curly lose his mind as he witnesses the way Jimmy reacts to Grant’s advances.

They think they hide it well, but Grant can see through their facades. He sees the way Curly looks at Jimmy when the pilot isn’t looking, and he sees the way Jimmy glances back just as Curly averts his eyes away.

A few days are all it takes for him to see what those two are trying to keep away from each other. Just a few times, a few hours observing how Curly reacts to his pilot catching the attention of someone who he deems a threat is enough for Grant to make a conclusion as to what the Curly of this world hides behind his pretence.

Grant is Curly, after all, in one way or another, and he refuses to believe someone wearing his face can be so reticent and cowardly as to let someone he desires slip away. It’s pathetic, the way Curly acts like a harmless puppy while hiding his predatory and volatile nature. Grant abhors it. He finds it tasteless more so when he sees someone with his own face doing it.

Curly stands close to Jimmy whenever the two are together, lingering around the pilot. His blue eyes burn with unspoken desire, possessive even when he has no claim on the man he calls a friend.

Curly tries his best not to touch, but his fingers twitch whenever Jimmy gets close within reach. Holding back, pulling back. It makes the man act colder than he probably wanted to towards Jimmy. And it’s something that will cost him now that Grant is here to shower the brunet with attention, unwanted or not.

Jimmy is a different matter altogether.

Grant wasn’t lying when he approached Jimmy the first time and said he found the co-pilot to be attractive. He has always loved a firecracker to be his ideal partner. And dark hair, dark eyes are all bonuses to go with the personality. The chase is what draws Grant in, and it just so happens that Jimmy is a runner. The pilot runs away from his nature, from his own feelings for the man he calls “Captain”. Jimmy runs from himself.

And yet, something is still bound to bleed through what Jimmy tries to keep hidden.

Jimmy leans into Curly, subtly. He probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. He looks at Curly with softness in his eyes, tinged with melancholy. He chews the inside of his cheeks like there’s something he’s trying hard not to say.

It’s so painfully obvious.

Those two are pining. Hard. And neither wants to speak or act on it. It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so fucking sad.

To Grant, though, it’s great entertainment. And he has gotten a front-row seat.

He’s having fun, and that’s all that really matters. This is probably the best alternate universe he has managed to land on, far better than that other universe where he found the whole crew dead and “Curly” stuck in a cryo pod with all of his limbs and skin missing.

He landed into that specific dimension just in time to see the co-pilot shoot himself and was damn glad he managed to get back to his original dimension in record time, only days after the mishap.

Grant grimaces as he remembers the Curly of that universe. In the end, he opened the cryo pod and put a bullet right into the man’s head, ending his misery.

He shivers. Had it been him stuck in there, he’d want someone to kill him too.

Chapter Text

It’s another early morning on the vessel of the Tulpar, nearly two weeks since he arrived. Grant looks on as he watches Jimmy lead Curly into the lounge. Grant is already up and about. He couldn’t really sleep anyhow.

Just like every day, Grant approaches Jimmy again. But, unlike the previous time when Curly accompanied Jimmy, he doesn’t feel the impulse to make the pilot blow up when he has been kind enough to offer Grant not only the extra covers but his personal shower as well. Jimmy tenses up when he sees Grant approach, glancing nervously back at Curly to gauge his reaction. For some reason, Grant feels a twinge of annoyance at the act.

Why does Jimmy need to watch himself when he interacts with Grant? What does it matter if Curly is here or not?

Jimmy only needs to look at Grant when he’s here.

He doesn’t know what kind of face he makes, but it prompts Jimmy to look at him with a frown.

“Did the blankets help?” Jimmy asks. “They’re shit. Pony Express’ amenities are just like that I’m afraid.”

Something surges inside of Grant, something warm and unfamiliar. He looks over at Curly, whose face is the picture of displeasure, and decides that he is going to try and do something different today.

“It’s fine. I can endure,” He says, smiling. He catches Jimmy’s eye and softens his tone. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen before hastily averting away. Grant watches in satisfaction as the brunet's face turns a faint red. Mumbling something under his breath, Jimmy turns his focus to the coffee machine.

As Jimmy busies himself with the machine, Curly tries to interject himself between Grant and Jimmy. But Grant moves first. He follows Jimmy to stand next to the pilot, drawing close enough to gaze down at the brunet. He leans his hip on the kitchen counter.

“New look today,” he remarks casually. Jimmy’s five o’clock shadow is shaven off this morning. It transforms his face, making him look that bit younger, less sullen and tired.

‘Jimmy looks even prettier,’ Grant decides.

He grabs Jimmy’s face in between his fingers, turning the brunet’s face towards him. Jimmy’s lips pucker as his cheeks are squished.

“You’re looking real cute, kitten.”

“Pf–! Shut up!” Jimmy splutters. He steps back when Grant releases him just to bump against Curly’s chest, coffee in each hand. The blond captain has been standing behind Jimmy, eyes stuck in a glare.

Curly grabs the brunet by reflex, one arm curling around Jimmy’s torso. Grant moves forward before Curly has the chance to push the pilot behind him. Looking into the face of his counterpart, Grant presses closer to Jimmy’s front. His face stretches into a smile, making sure all of his teeth are showing. He smiles wider seeing the way Curly works his jaw.

Fingers settle over slim hips, and Grant pulls Jimmy ever slightly closer to him, making the pilot’s breath hitch. Grant watches raptly as Curly sucks in a breath, swallowing thickly at the sound and tightening his hold.

“Gimme space! The damn coffee–!” Jimmy exclaims, stuck between them. He is unable to move freely due to the mugs of hot liquid in his hands.

Grant stares at Curly, cocking a brow and daring him to do something, to react, anything, but Curly simply glares back, eyes promising certain death.

“What the hell’s wrong with you two?” Jimmy looks between the two men, face twisted in confusion. He clicks his tongue. “Are we done here? There’s work to get to."

Grant looks down at Jimmy who looks less flustered and more irritated by the seconds and decides to step back. The mugs of hot coffee in Jimmy’s hands are shaking slightly, and if Grant continues his teasing, an accident might happen. He can have his fun another time. There’s no need to go so far so early.

“Sorry,” he says without an inch of remorse. “Just can’t help myself. You’re just too hard to resist.”

Jimmy wrenches himself out of Curly’s grasp, leaving the blond’s hand hanging. He hurries to give Curly the mug of black coffee before putting in the sugar and the cream in his.

“You’re one crazy bastard. You know that?” Jimmy calls as he grabs Curly by the back of his fight suit, making the man walk backwards before releasing him, trusting him to follow.

“You know you love me for it!” Grant calls after Jimmy, getting a middle finger for his effort. He snorts at the childish display.

Today marks the fourth time Grant finds Curly accompanying the pilot, four days of Jimmy being shadowed by his friend. It seems that Curly has gotten more vigilant, now that it’s ascertained that Grant’s interest in Jimmy is increasing. He’s a bit slow on the uptake, that Curly, to have let a week go by before interfering. Had Jimmy been Grant’s to keep, he would not let a soul linger their gaze on the pilot longer than at most a day.

Incompetent.

This ‘Curly’ doesn’t have what it takes to be with someone like Jimmy, let alone keep the pilot. He should just let Grant do the honour and stay out of the way.

Grant scrunches his nose in mild annoyance.

At least he gets some entertainment for his troubles. He likes watching the look on the other’s face as he makes Jimmy stutter and blush. The way his face darkens in seething anger and jealousy. Most of all, Grant loves the way Jimmy stumbles over his own feet, stuck in the presence of the two of them.

Grant’s not dumb. He knows for a fact that Jimmy sees Curly in Grant’s features, which is not a difficult thing to do seeing how they’re identical to each other. After all, he has been using this exact thing to make Jimmy fluster whenever he hits on the co-pilot. It makes it far easier for Grant to turn on the charm and make Jimmy blush and stammer like someone on their first date. His flirtations are all the more effective for it, and the reactions he stirs up are far more explosive when he knows where to poke at Jimmy.

Grant’s similarity to Curly must be the reason why Jimmy is acting far too tolerant of Grant for someone of his temper, it must be why Jimmy is getting more and more comfortable with responding to Grant’s vulgar teasing with remarks of his own.

Pain as he is to admit to it, it feels nice to have someone to talk to. When Curly isn’t around, Jimmy treats Grant’s crass remarks like some sort of banter between them. Jimmy matches him word for word, action for action. Brazen. Mischievous.

For some reason, that makes Grant even more excited to spend time with Jimmy. Those are the moments when he and Jimmy talk almost civilly, moments when Jimmy looks at him without having to constantly look over his shoulder, feeling self-conscious about how he appears to Curly.

Fucking Curly. That eyesore is ruining his fun.

Curly holds Jimmy against his chest when the pilot bumps into him. It’s instinct, Curly is sure, the way he wants to be as close to Jimmy as humanly possible. He can feel Jimmy’s heart beating underneath his palm. He wants to reach into Jimmy’s ribcage, wants to curl his fingers over the pounding heart and feel the way it moves.

He tries his best to not react, even as he glowers at Grant and the way the man crowds against Jimmy. He sucks in a breath when he hears a tiny sound coming from the man in his arm. It stirs something inside of him. He can’t help but think about what other sounds might come out of Jimmy’s mouth if Curly ever gets the chance to hold him in his arms and in his bed.

What would he hear if he strokes Jimmy just right, thrusts into Jimmy just right?

Would Jimmy cry? Or would he beg? Would he tell Curly to slow down or give it to him even harder, faster? Is Jimmy a shy lover, or a wanton whore?

Curly holds Jimmy tighter against his body. The brunet smells good, like the woody aftershave scent that he uses. He has half-expected Jimmy to go back on his word of shaving his face after losing to Curly at poker, but to his surprise and delight, Jimmy has kept the promise. Though, Curly is having second thoughts seeing how Grant is reacting to Jimmy’s new look.

Grant steps away, and Curly feels a pang of disappointment when Jimmy jerks out of his grasp. He takes the coffee Jimmy gives him and follows the pilot out of the lounge, eager to get away from the annoyance wearing his face. His coffee is black, just how he likes it. Truly, Jimmy always knows him best.

Jimmy grumbles under his breath all the way to the cockpit, and Curly listens halfheartedly. He doesn’t mean to do it, but he’s too busy staring at Jimmy’s face and the way his cheeks puff up slightly in his vexation, the way the blush rises high on his cheeks. The blush that’s brought on by Grant’s advances.

Curly feels his temper rising yet again at the thought. It’s alarming, the way Jimmy has started to react to Grant. Jimmy is annoyed by Grant most of the time, Curly knows. Every interaction between the two of them often comprises either an eye roll of exasperation, a sneering twist of the lips or a snide comment, a combination of two or all of them combined, from Jimmy. And yet, Curly can not shake off the feeling that there is more than just scorn and mockery in Jimmy’s words and actions.

Just now, when Grant complimented Jimmy, Curly can swear that Jimmy almost looked shy, like he was flattered by the attention. Curly doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like how Jimmy is so visibly affected by Grant’s presence.

“Curly? Are you listening at all?” Jimmy’s voice pulled him back. They’ve arrived at the cockpit, and Jimmy turns to look at him when Curly has stayed silent for too long. “I know the coffee is ass, but I don’t think you’ve ever reacted with that face before.”

Jimmy reaches out for the cup in Curly’s hand. “Did I put sugar in it by mistake?”

“Oh, no. It’s not that. The coffee’s fine.” Curly moves his hand to cover the cup, stopping Jimmy from grabbing it. “I’m just thinking.” He pushes forward to slide the door to the cockpit open, heading inside.

“Yeah? About what?” Jimmy follows after him. The two of them get into their respective seats.

Curly hums. He thinks about what he can say to cover up his actual thoughts.

“You shaved,” he settles on saying. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Geez, you think that little of me? Think I’ll just go back on my word?” Jimmy mumbles, sounding miffed.

‘Maybe. Sometimes.’ Curly wants to say. He can still remember that one time Jimmy stood him up on their planned movie date. He waited hours in the cold night outside the theatre just to end up watching the movie by himself. Jimmy had called to tell him on the phone last minute he didn’t want to go out because he caught a cold. Funny enough, when Curly saw him the next day, Jimmy looked right as rain, not a single indicator that he was ill whatsoever.

Or that time Jimmy promised him to not get into another bar fight. He swore up and down to behave because they were being joined by some of Curly’s co-workers from Pony Express at the time, and yet in the end still got them kicked out of the establishment. Somehow, some way, Jimmy had managed to get into a fight with someone twice his size when Curly excused himself to the restroom. When he came back, both the bouncer and the bartender were trying to hold the two men back from duking it out in the middle of the bar. Curly had had to physically step in to pry his friend away and out of the place.

Most of those co-workers are no longer with Pony Express, and Curly breathes a sigh of relief knowing he won’t bump into them anytime soon now that Jimmy is piloting with him.

“No, it’s just that, I think it suits you. You look…” Pretty. Kissable. Fuckable. “You look good.” Curly ends up saying instead. He glances at the co-pilot who’s rubbing a hand on his face, looking bashful. Jimmy’s ears are red.

“D–don’t say that. That’s so gay, man!” Jimmy sniffs, chewing the inside of his lips. He pauses for a short while. “...You mean it?”

It’s vulnerable, the way Jimmy keeps looking for validation. Curly supposes it isn’t out of the norm. Jimmy has always been susceptible to compliments on his appearance. It’s easy to make him fluster just by telling him he looks nice or that his hair suits him.

Curly shrugs. “Yeah. I like it. Maybe you should keep it for the rest of the haul.” He hopes Jimmy will. However, he doesn’t mind the slightly scruffy look Jimmy usually keeps either.

“Maybe,” Jimmy allows. He tugs at the fringe of his hair before brushing it away from his face.

The two of them fall silent as they pull up their schedule for the day, routine and uneventful. Throughout the shift, Jimmy keeps glancing at Curly with a small but pleased smile on his face. A tiny quirk of lips, but as loud and visible to Curly as anything. He has spent far too much time admiring Jimmy’s face to not be able to read every minute changes in his expression. Curly reminds himself to compliment Jimmy more.

Hours go by, and it is time for their lunch break. Curly pulls up autopilot and turns his head from one side then the other, cracking his neck. He sighs in relief at the released tension.

“Let’s have a break,” Curly says as he stands. “We should go get lunch together, seeing how we didn’t eat much of anything at all yesterday.” His stomach growls at that moment, and Curly's own face heats in mortification.

“Your stomach seems to agree!” Jimmy laughs. “Alright, let’s go then. Can’t say the food will ever be good, but at least it tides us over.”

Curly nods. There’s another reason why he wants to go with Jimmy today, that reason being the man who is no doubt hanging about in the lounge. Curly doesn’t want another incident like the first time he accompanied Jimmy to lunch with Grant there. Who knows what other craziness Grant might subject Jimmy to without Curly’s knowledge?

Jimmy steps out of the room first with Curly following closely behind. They head towards the lounge, chatting in low voices about what food they want to eat after finishing this long haul and landing back on Earth. Jimmy sounds particularly excited about the apple pies and soft-serve ice cream he wants to get his hands on at the local fast food chain.

‘It’s adorable,’ Curly thinks, ‘how Jimmy has such a sweet tooth.’ When this haul is over, he’ll take Jimmy to buy all the pies and ice cream he wants. Anything, anywhere. If Jimmy likes it, Curly will make sure he gets it.

The two of them arrive at the lounge with Jimmy sliding open the door, and Curly feels his calm slowly replaced by annoyance. Just as he expects, Grant is there, sitting at the small coffee table. He’s holding something in his hand, turning a small metal object this way and that. His brows narrow in what looks like mild frustration. Grant looks up as they walk in, eyes immediately zeroing in on Jimmy. He puts the item away in his pants pocket as he stands.

Curly hurries to position himself in Grant’s direct line of sight, effectively shielding Jimmy from the other man.

“Any preference for today’s lunch?” Jimmy asks him. “Take your pick, each option is as shitty as the next.”

Curly looks back at Jimmy and shrugs. “Whatever you’re having. I’m fine with anything.”

“Guess they all taste the same after a while, huh?” Jimmy purses his lips. “Well, don’t blame me if you don’t like what I pick.”

Jimmy heads to the food dispenser and quickly presses the codes into the keypad, waiting for the canned food to drop. He bends to pick up the items from the machine, and Curly, standing behind him, can’t help but look at the way the fabric of Jimmy’s pants hugs his ass and thighs. He stares, mesmerised, at the rounded curve of Jimmy's buttock and his trim waist. Curly’s fingers are twitching where they rest next to his thighs. He itches to grab at the body on display.

Curly is so distracted, he fails to notice Grant coming to stand right next to him. The other man lets out a low whistle, eyes shamelessly ogling Jimmy’s figure.

“Good view,” Grant says under his breath, seemingly intending only for Curly to hear. Curly startles. He turns to glare at Grant just as Jimmy also turns around with the cans in his hands. For a moment, he blinks confusedly at the two blonds, as if he has forgotten that there are two identical people running around the ship. Jimmy shakes his head slightly.

“Hey,” Jimmy says. “Have you eaten yet?” He’s looking at Grant, brown eyes defenceless against piercing blues. Jimmy has no idea how much danger he is in, Curly is convinced.

Curly feels something rot inside of him, something ugly and alarming. He doesn’t like how Jimmy is speaking to Grant, like the two of them are friends. He doesn’t like how close they look standing next to each other. Why does Jimmy feel the need to address Grant of all people when the real Curly is standing right here?

Grant shrugs. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure? I have never seen you eat anything.” Jimmy frowns. He looks genuinely concerned for Grant’s well-being.

Curly feels his mind blanking. Why does Jimmy care so much about him? What does it matter if Grant is comfortable staying here or not? He’s no one, nobody, and when he disappears it will be as if nothing has ever happened. Things will return to the ways they should be, with Curly by Jimmy's side.

“I do eat. I just don’t do it when people can see me.” Grant smiles at Jimmy. He must be faking it, with how warm it looks. “Besides, I like watching you eat more than doing it myself.” He winks.

Curly scowls at the action and looks back at Jimmy, gauging his reaction. To his horror, Jimmy averts his eyes from Grant as he starts pulling at his ears. He’s blushing, face and ears a faint red. Jimmy is acting like someone with a crush, like he’s pleased with Grant’s attention.

Curly grits his teeth. Jimmy isn’t like this with him at all. Since they’ve started hanging out more with each other again, Curly has been keeping track of how Jimmy behaves around him. While the brunet isn’t being distant exactly, there’s an underlying sense of caution in how Jimmy acts and talks around Curly. Sure, Jimmy looks pleased by their renewed closeness, acting more agreeable than before, but he doesn’t initiate contact, doesn’t push too hard with his teasing, and doesn’t let Curly help him with his problems. It’s almost like he doesn’t know how to be around Curly anymore.

His face must have been doing something, because one look at it makes Jimmy straighten up, the faint smile dropping from the pilot’s face. Jimmy averts his eyes from the both of them as he walks briskly to the microwave. From the corner of Curly's eyes, Grant frowns.

Curly moves to help plate the food. Jimmy puts the dishes into the microwave, one finger tapping on the counter as he waits. The timer chimes, and Jimmy passes Curly his lunch.

“Here,” Jimmy says, still not looking at him. The two of them take the plates to the dinner table.

Grant is already sitting down, and Curly moves to sit right in front of the other man, letting Jimmy take the chair next to him. He stares at Grant, daring him to stand and change his seat. Curly will not let Grant harass Jimmy the way he did the last time they were here.

Curly narrows his eyes when Grant snorts, derision clear in his action. Grant leans against his chair, arms draping over the backrest of the one next to him, slouching with his legs apart. He looks at Curly without breaking eye contact. Curly refuses to back down.

Next to him, Jimmy eats slowly as the tension builds. The pilot looks at them, seemingly unsure of the situation. Curly doesn’t know how long he stays like that when Jimmy taps his foot against his, jolting him out of the staring showdown he and Grant have found themselves in.

“Your food, Curly,” Jimmy mutters at him, eyes shifty, nervous. “Eat. Quickly. Then we can get out of here.”

Curly sighs. Perhaps it is best to do as Jimmy says. If he remains staring any longer, he might find himself pissed off enough to start moving his fists instead. Curly begrudgingly averts his eyes from Grant, instead leaning over to whisper into Jimmy’s ears.

“Hey, before we head back to work, let’s take a detour to your room.”

“What for?” Jimmy asks, mouth chubby with food. Jimmy is still the same as when they were kids. He still chews slowly, taking his time. His mouth always looks busy biting, chewing, or sucking on something, usually candies. He remembers that one time Jimmy got a tooth cavity after consuming a few too many of those hard treats.

‘Cute,’ Curly decides.

“I’m thinking we can get that deck of cards of yours, play a few games to pass the time as we pilot.” Curly shrugs. He doesn’t have to stay an upstanding, rule-abiding captain all the time, not when it comes to Jimmy. “Most of our work is automated after all.”

Jimmy frowns. He swallows his food. Curly’s eyes follow the way Jimmy’s throat moves.

“Wouldn’t that be against protocol?”

“Not if I don’t say anything about it.” Curly huffs a laugh. Jimmy has never been a stickler for rules. Curly doesn’t understand why Jimmy is asking about this, now that Curly is indulging in his bad behaviours. “Besides, I’m betting something I think you’ll be hard-pressed to not take me on.”

Jimmy sits up straighter. “What? You’re willing to bet on going bald again?”

“Nah, I like my hair too much to risk doing that again.” He lowers his voice conspiringly. “I’m betting the bottle of brandy I snuck on board.” He originally reserved the bottle to celebrate Jimmy’s birthday for this haul, but the plan has changed. Curly needs something to hold Jimmy’s attention, something to make Jimmy keep coming back to him. Anything to not let Jimmy drift towards Grant.

“No shit?” Jimmy says. He sounds surprised and delighted. Then, he deflates. “I don’t have anything like that to bet against yours, though.”

Curly waves his hand, dismissing Jimmy’s concern. “No need for that. If you lose, you can just keep using your current bet. I’ll take that as well.” He looks into Jimmy’s eyes, curving his mouth into a gentle smile. The muscles strain on his face as he tries to make it look natural. “I think you look good this way. Truly.”

Jimmy blushes, and Curly feels his smile become genuine at the reaction. He can also make Jimmy look like that. Grant isn’t anyone special.

The pilot starts eating faster. “Then what the hell are you waiting for? Hurry up and let’s go.”

Curly chuckles as he, too, eats quickly. The two of them finish up their food and wash the dishes, putting them on the rack to dry. Curly follows slowly as Jimmy runs up ahead to his room to retrieve the cards.

Satisfaction surges through him at Jimmy’s eagerness. Maybe Curly should let loose more often. Maybe Jimmy will be more comfortable being with Curly if he meets Jimmy halfway. Maybe Jimmy will forget about Grant altogether.

Curly turns one last time to look at his counterpart still sitting at the table as he nears the door. For most of the break, the other man was ignored as Jimmy gave Curly his sole attention.

With one last sneer, Curly leaves. There’s a game date with Jimmy he wants to be present for.

There’s a knock outside Jimmy’s door. It’s night, and he has just finished taking a shower and changed into his sleep clothes. He frowns, looking at the door. Perhaps it’s merely his senses playing a trick on him, because who’s even looking for him at this hour?

He stands still for a few seconds, silent as he tries to listen closely. Just as Jimmy is about to shrug and head to bed, another knock sounds, clearer this time. There truly is someone outside looking for him.

Curious, Jimmy opens the door. He doesn’t bother checking, but who he sees on the other side makes him think maybe he should have.

Grant waves at him while leaning against the door frame. There are clothes hanging on his arm. Jimmy scowls as he tries to slam the door shut. Before he can do that, Grant’s hand shoots out to grab onto the edge of the door, halting the movement.

“It’s late. What do you want?” Jimmy grumbles.

“Hey now, I’m just trying to take you up on that offer of yours.” Grant smiles lopsidedly at him. Jimmy wants to smack it off. He continues, sounding strangely desperate. “Help me escape the young lad’s questions today, yeah? Let me use your shower.”

Jimmy sucks in a breath and pinches his eyes shut. He shouldn’t have said anything in his sleep-deprived state.

“Come on,” Grant says. Jimmy opens his eyes to look at the man standing before him, staring into blue eyes and blond curls that look just like his friend’s. “I’m here with your supervision, aren’t I? Just like you asked.”

A shower, and this late at night? It’s a wonder the guy hasn’t caught a cold yet. “Odd time for a wash. Why didn’t you ask me earlier?”

“You aren’t in your room most of the morning.” Grant shrugs. “And I’m a late shower kind of guy.”

Jimmy chews on his lips. Grant has been acting rather tame for the better part of the morning, and Jimmy did offer, didn’t he?

“Fine,” Jimmy finally concedes. He pushes the door wider to let Grant in, nodding his head at the door to the bathroom. “But keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll kick you out!”

“Aye, aye,” Grant says as he walks in. To Jimmy’s surprise and relief, the man heads straight to the shower without doing anything annoying. Jimmy blinks. Maybe Grant truly is just here for that.

The bathroom door shuts, and rustling sounds are heard as Grant removes his clothing. Jimmy listens until the sound of running water comes on. He goes to lie down on the bed, letting his mind drift. Like many times, his thoughts start wandering towards Curly and the weird, unexpected situation they find themselves in with Grant.

Curly has been hanging out around Jimmy a lot more than when he first started taking on the role of co-pilot. He'll deny it if anyone asks, but he feels happier when Curly is with him. It’s familiar and safe to simply be around Curly. His captain has always been a good and dependable friend. It's almost annoying how nice Curly is to everyone around them, with Grant being the exception to the rule.

One thing he has been observing, though, is that Grant’s behaviours towards him escalate whenever Curly is with him. Before Curly’s “interference”, and this is no doubt an interference on Curly’s part even if he didn’t explicitly say it out loud, Grant has been an annoying talker, but nowhere near the handsy man he’s becoming.

It’s troublesome, the way things are going. This morning and lunchtime were some of the most nerve-wracking experiences Jimmy has experienced. He was so sure something was going to explode as the two blonds stared daggers at one another in what looked like a showdown.

Jimmy almost wants to tell Curly to back down and let Jimmy handle Grant by himself, but he can’t do that without making it look like he’s disregarding Curly entirely, not when Curly isn’t doing anything to push back at Grant at Jimmy’s behest. His captain has been there as some sort of emotional support for him, letting Jimmy deal with Grant his own way. Jimmy appreciates it. It means Curly does listen and is trying his best to honour Jimmy’s wishes.

He feels warm thinking about how he’s being treated by Curly. He hopes this keeps up. He hopes Curly will keep spending time with him. Jimmy has been enjoying their games of cards, even when he kept losing no matter what he did. And how the hell is Curly so good at that? It’s so fucking unfair how everything seems to come easy for Curly.

The sound of running water stops, and Jimmy waits patiently for Grant to come out. Hopefully, Jimmy can finally shoo the man from his room and finally get some deserved rest. He hopes he’ll be able to sleep without being jerked awake by deeply disturbing nightmares tonight. After all, falling asleep is already difficult these few days, why must he suffer nightmares as well?

The door opens, and out walks Grant. Jimmy’s breath catches when his eyes land on the man standing in his room, staring at the water dripping from his hair, the colour of it darkens as the strands clump together. His eyes trail the droplets of water down to Grant’s collarbone, his pecs, down his strong body and right down to his–

“Why the fuck are you naked!” Jimmy tears his eyes away from Grant as he yells out.

For a moment, Jimmy has gotten distracted by the nude body suddenly appearing before him, the body that looks far too much like Curly. Jimmy and Curly are close, yes, but he has never seen what Curly is packing down there. He has always been too afraid of being accused of being queer, too self-conscious of trying to hide his feelings for his friend that he has never even dared to stray lower than Curly’s waistline whenever they change in the same locker room. The most Jimmy has ever managed to see was Curly’s bare chest and a glimpse of strong thighs as Curly changed his pants.

“Put on your clothes, dumbass!” Jimmy’s face feels like it’s on fire. He closes his eyes as he feels Grant walks closer.

He needs to calm down. This is just some dude. Men see other men naked all the time, right? On the beach, in gym locker rooms, in saunas and other settings that escape him currently. Maybe they don’t see each other fully nude but they are naked enough for those occasions, and that isn't weird at all. Jimmy can just act normal.

‘But,’ a voice in Jimmy’s head opposes. ‘It’s Curly. That’s Curly’s body. When else can you see it? Look all you want, Grant might even like that.’

He is just about to argue back against himself and his own depraved thoughts when Grant chimes in.

“No can do. My clean clothes will get wet that way.”

Jimmy can't see Grant’s face, but he bets all of his credits the man has on his face a smug smirk. He sounds like he’s smirking anyway.

Jimmy hisses out, eyes still clenched shut. “Then towel off, dry yourself! You’re dripping water all over my room!”

“Don’t got a towel,” Grant says, sounding nonchalant.

“Wha– Damn you!” Jimmy ducks his head as he stands, eyes looking at the ground. He walks to his closet and grabs the nearest towel he can get his hands on. It’s an old towel, threadbare and nearly looks like a rag, but it will have to do. Jimmy isn’t about to offer anything other than the bare minimum to this crazy asshole.

“Here! Now hurry and cover up!” He flings the towel back at Grant, uncaring of where it will land. “When I turn around you’d better be decent or it’s back to Daisuke you go for the rest of your stay!”

Jimmy hears Grant chuckle, and he resolutely does not turn around as he hears the man start wiping down his body. The rustling ends, and Jimmy inclines his head.

“Are you done?”

“Sure. I think I’m decent enough.”

Jimmy snorts. “Yeah right, ‘decent’ you say. There’s not a single ‘decent’ thing about your–!” He turns around, and his words are cut off as he looks straight into Grant’s still bare chest. Grant is standing right before him, having moved closer silently. Jimmy stumbles backwards, back colliding with the closet’s door. He slaps his palms over his eyes.

“I thought I told you to cover up!”

“I did, though.” He hears Grant reply. There’s a wall of heat against Jimmy’s front. To Jimmy’s mortification, Grant is moving even closer to him.

“You did not!”

“I did exactly as you asked me to.” Grant grabs at Jimmy’s wrists gently, trying to pry them from his face. “You can see for yourself.”

Jimmy shakes his head. He feels like he’s going to pass out from embarrassment. It’s already difficult enough seeing Curly in Grant’s feature every time they interact, and it’s only getting worse for him to control his eyes from straying with Grant being so blatantly exhibitionistic.

“Come on. I promise not to bite if you take a peek. I’ll allow it.” Jimmy’s hands are lowering despite his initial protest. He wants to see. He wants to see Curly’s naked body again.

His eyes are staring holes into the ground as his hands are pulled from his face. Jimmy blames it on Grant. Grant is making him do this. Grant is moving his hands from his face. It’s not his fault if he happens to see something so blatantly on display, not his fault if his eyes catch the towel wrapped low around those hips, not his fault if his gaze lingers at the “V” line of Grant’s lower abdomen. Jimmy feels like he can’t breathe. His heart is beating loudly in his ears, ears that feel like they’re being held under a flame.

Grant is still holding onto Jimmy’s wrists, gentle fingers keeping his hands hostage.

“Like what you see?” Grant chuckles low. “You can touch it if you like.”

Grant moves Jimmy’s hand closer to his naked torso, letting the palms lay flat on his chest and starts pulling them down and down. Jimmy stares at the placement of his hands on Grant’s chest, eyes following the trajectory of them as they are lowered. Jimmy lets it happen. It’s not his fault if Grant makes him do it. Jimmy has no control here, he tells himself.

Jimmy’s hands reach the edge of the towel wrapped around Grant’s waist, and Grant pauses to let his palms linger.

“Are you curious?” Grant leans close to Jimmy to speak into reddened ears. His voice is husky. “You want to see more of me? Feel more of me?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer, but he drags his hands up Grant’s torso again, letting fingers feel up the muscles of the man’s toned abdomen and petting over his ribs. Grant’s body is sturdy under Jimmy’s hands.

Is Curly like this, too? Is he also built like this? It’s been far too long since the two of them have gone to the gym together. Jimmy can hardly remember how Curly looks without his uniform.

Jimmy slides his hands up to grope at Grant’s pecs. They’re firm, but the flesh gives a little as he squeezes them lightly.

Grant lets out an amused sound. “You know, this can’t just be a one-sided thing. If you want to see my everything, I’ll need to see you bare, too.” Jimmy looks up into Grant’s eyes to see them leering at him. Grant smirks. “Tit for tat, pretty thing. Let me cop a feel, hm?”

Hands release his wrists, and Jimmy feels it as Grant dips fingers into the waistband of his shorts. Just as fingers are prepared to pull the fabric down, Jimmy latches his own onto Grant’s two nipples and twists, hard.

“Gah!” Grant springs away from him with a yelp. Jimmy smirks in triumph while Grant crosses his arms over his chest, shielding it from sight. He steps forward, and Grant steps back. Jimmy huffs in amusement.

Who’s messing with who, now?

“How’s that for coping a feel, huh? I told you I’ll kick you out if you don’t keep your hands to yourself.” He holds up both of his hands, pinching his thumbs and forefingers together.

“There’s more where that came from if you don’t hurry and scram!”

Jimmy rubs his fingers together as an intimidation tactic, feeling pleased with himself when Grant holds up his hands to keep Jimmy away. Jimmy pretends to lunge forward, and Grant flinches.

“Alright, alright! I get it! Geez, kitty, lower those claws!”

Grant slowly shuffles backwards into the bathroom, with Jimmy following his retreat closely all the while making crabby hands at him. Jimmy narrows his eyes, holding up his hands until Grant pulls the door shut. Grant comes out of the bathroom in record time in his new sweatpants and yellow t-shirt, old clothes draped over his forearm.

“There. Happy now?” Grant grumbles at him.

Jimmy pretends to look him over. “Very,” he says while looking into Grant’s face, hands still making the pinching motion. “Now out. I want to sleep.”

Grant waves a hand at him. “Got it, got it. You don’t have to threaten me.”

Jimmy follows as Grant walks to the door of his cabin, sliding it open gently before turning back at him. Grant looks at him, blue eyes soft as they regard Jimmy. It must be the trick of the light. Those eyes look far too similar to Curly when he looks at Jimmy. They almost look…warm.

“Same time tomorrow?” Jimmy asks. He doesn’t know why, but he finds himself wanting to see Grant again. Jimmy wants to see Grant in his most natural state, when he isn’t being obnoxious and doing stunts to stir up outrage or to piss off Curly. He wants those soft blue eyes to look at him again.

The corner of Grant’s mouth lifts. It doesn’t look mocking at all.

“Tomorrow.” A hand comes up to tuck a piece of stray hair behind Jimmy’s ears, making his face flush. Grant’s fingers are gentle.

Then Grant cracks a smirk, kissing the air. “I’ll see you then, pretty thing.”

And just like that, the moment is over. Jimmy rolls his eyes as he exhales in annoyance. He slams the door in Grant’s smirking face.

Jimmy walks to his bed to fall face-first into his pillow. It takes a long time before he drifts off, head swirling with images of Grant’s naked body. As his consciousness fades, the vision of Grant starts overlapping with another man who keeps occupying Jimmy’s mind.

He sleeps, and dreams of blond hair and blue eyes.

Chapter Text

For the past few days, Curly and he have been inseparable. The blond remains insistent, near the point of being pushy, in staying close to Jimmy whenever Grant approaches.

It’s ridiculous, the way Curly hovers around him like a mother hen, glaring and frowning at Grant, who doesn’t let this new development change his behaviour. Jimmy thinks he should feel offended at being treated like some delicate flower, and perhaps the him of some years ago would have. But now, he can’t help but feel happy at the attention he’s being given. Frankly, Jimmy doesn’t care how he looks to other people as long as Curly keeps looking at him and staying by his side.

Work has also been more bearable. Jimmy spends every morning stuck in the cockpit with Curly. They would play different games, cycling through the ones they knew and teaching each other what the other one didn't, wasting time and milling about. Jimmy has yet to win a single round against Curly. The best he ever got was a two out of five wins, which still meant losing.

Surprisingly, their efficiency remains unaffected. The two of them work together seamlessly with barely a hitch. Curly even complimented him once on how well he’s fitting in with the role of a freighter pilot. It pleases him. Jimmy likes that Curly is paying more attention to him compared to before.

It seems the change in his spirit is enough for even his co-workers to comment on it, because today, as they are finishing up the weekly psych eval, Anya looks at him with pleasant surprise etched on her features.

“You look happy,” she says to him unprompted. “You didn’t even crack any weird jokes this time around.”

The comment makes Jimmy raise both of his eyebrows.

“There’s still time. Would you like me to make a joke?”

“No. Don’t do that.” Comes the quick deadpan reply. Jimmy sniffs, feeling a bit offended. His jokes aren’t that bad.

“I don’t feel any differently than usual, so I don’t know where you got that from.” He shrugs. “I hope you’re not putting that in the eval. That I’m, what? Look happy? Might not be a good idea to let Pony Express know that. They might take it as an excuse to put even more restrictions on us.”

“That’s true.” Anya nods along. “Still, I just want to let you know that I’m glad.”

“About what?”

“That you and Captain seem to be getting along better than before.”

‘How long has she been looking to be able to determine that? Annoying.’ Jimmy thinks, chewing the inside of his cheeks.

He narrows his eyes at her. Her observation is spot on, which ruffles him. “I don’t know what you mean by that. He and I got along just fine before.”

It’s a bold-faced lie.

Curly and he had been drifting apart as they started working and sharing close quarters together. He still doesn’t understand what had happened for Curly to act so cold towards him before, especially when he was the one who suggested this job to Jimmy. Still, Jimmy barely knows Anya, and he isn’t about to let strangers in on their business. Or at the very least, he’s not going to discuss this with her.

“Of course. Sorry. Maybe I was just overthinking things.”

“Maybe.”

Anya starts writing something on her clipboard, pen scratching on paper. They fall silent. It’s awkward.

Jimmy clears his throat.

“You uh, you really think it’s getting better? He and I.” He’s blushing as he asks. It feels like gossiping. And Jimmy doesn’t gossip. Usually. Mostly.

Or maybe he does, just a little bit.

“Oh yes. I always feel like there’s some kind of barrier between the two of you before, something a bit stilted.” Anya perks up. She looks a bit too invested in their relationship, in Jimmy’s opinion. “Captain told me you guys have known each other for a long time, and well, I guess I’m seeing it now.”

“Curly told you?” Jimmy frowns. Something churns inside his guts. Something like jealousy. He tries to shake off the feeling. “You guys talk often?”

“Oh. Not really!” Anya quickly says, one hand flapping away like she’s shooing off a fly. “We spoke in passing a few times. Work-related stuff mostly. This situation is unprecedented, so naturally, everyone has a lot of questions, including me.”

Jimmy only looks at her skeptically. Even if Anya doesn’t feel like it’s a big deal, it doesn’t mean Curly also thinks the same.

She changes the topic. “A–anyways! Speaking of which, how are you faring with the new guy?”

“New guy? You mean Curly 2.0?” Grant. Of course she’ll ask.

“Yes, him. He’s been giving you trouble. You’re doing okay?”

Jimmy scratches at his head. Grant is a topic he’s not keen to start unpacking, since he himself doesn’t know what to make of the man. He’s Curly, yet also not. He’s infuriating, yet Jimmy can’t help but be drawn to him. Jimmy doesn’t know how to feel.

“I… I don’t know, actually. It’s the first time something like this has happened to me. Grant is… direct.” He inwardly rolls his eyes. “Direct” is an understatement of the century.

“Yeah, I get it.” Anya nods sympathetically. “Those kinds of harassment… Now that’s something I don’t want to encounter ever again.”

Anya puts down her clipboard and leans forward to clasp both of her hands over his own lying on the table. Jimmy startles. She’s being far more upfront with him than she usually is.

“I’m saying this just in case, but if you need somewhere to be away from him for a bit, the medbay will be at your disposal.” Her hands squeeze gently.

Jimmy feels like it's overkill. Nothing Grant has done warrants Jimmy hiding from the man. Still, he appreciates the concern and consideration. It feels good to know at least someone has his back should things go south, someone whose relationship with him wouldn’t immediately implode if Grant ever did something worse than what he’s already doing.

He cracks a small smile, a genuine one, to his own surprise.

“Thanks, Anya.”

She nods, drawing back.

“Alright.” Anya ticks off something on the clipboard. “Check, and check. All good to go! You’re the last one to do the eval.”

“Sure,” he says as he stands. “Anything else you need?”

She waves him away. “Hmm, that’s all I think. I’m already done with Captain’s eval before yours, so you’re both free to get back to work.”

Jimmy nods and heads for the door. Just as he touches the handle, Anya pipes up again. “And if you’re looking for him, then he should be in utilities with Swansea and Daisuke. Apparently, Daisuke got himself into trouble again.” She sounds strangely excited.

“Uh… alright. Thanks?” How odd for Anya to be telling him this. It’s not like Jimmy asked her about Curly’s whereabouts.

“No problem, Jimmy.” She smiles at him.

Also strange. Anya doesn’t smile at Jimmy.

But then again, he doesn’t pay that much attention to her to begin with, aside from taking note of how close she and Curly seemed to be before Jimmy started working with them.

He hums instead of answering, opening the door to head out into the hallway. He contemplates between heading straight for the cockpit and going to the utility room to see what’s going on with his three co-workers.

A few words from Anya stuck with him.

“Daisuke.”

“Trouble.”

Then, another word runs through his head.

“Entertainment.”

Jimmy heads for the utility room. It’s not like Pony Express provides them with anything to occupy their time.

He hears it before he sees it, the thwacking sound of something hitting a dense mass. Sounds like fun, whatever it is they’re doing. He peeks into the room, just to immediately draw back from the sight. He scrambles to pull himself together. Jimmy stands, feeling heat crawling up his neck and burning his ears. He pulls at them, blinking rapidly to make sense of what he just saw.

Jimmy already knows that Curly is in there with Swansea and Daisuke. He expected it. But what he hasn’t prepared for is the sight of Curly, top half of his flight suit tied around his waist to show off the form-fitting uniform shirt he wears, arm muscles straining as he hacks away at the emergency foam with an axe. The fabric clings to him, stretching across his chest as he moves.

Clearly, Curly has been keeping up with his gym habits.

Jimmy swallows.

This is not the kind of entertainment he was promised. Maybe he should just leave them to it…

“Oh! Isn’t that Jimmy?” Daisuke’s voice is loud and unwelcome, especially in this circumstance. “Hey, Jimmy! What are you doing standing outside?”

“Jimmy?” He hears Curly call his name, expectant.

Jimmy clenches his eyes shut as he sighs. He walks into the room where the three men are standing.

“Hey, kid.” Nodding at Daisuke, who’s stuck in the foam, and the other two, he sniffs to try and act nonchalant. He resolutely does not look at Curly’s bare arms. “Anya told me you three are doing something dumb, so I wanted to see what it could be.”

“Bah! It’s something dumb, alright!” Swansea scoffs loudly. “It’s the only word that can describe this fuckwit here! Intern, they told me! Intern my ass!”

Curly chuckles, his low voice warm and patient as he tries to placate the annoyed mechanic.

“Aw, come on. I’m certain things will get better as Daisuke gets the hang of how things work. He’s trying his best, I’m sure.” He smiles at Daisuke. “Ain’t that right, kiddo?”

“Totally!” Daisuke gives him two thumbs up.

Swansea just sighs and grumbles to himself.

“Anyways, let’s get you out of the foam, huh? Hang tight! Almost done.”

Curly rolls his shoulders before lifting up the axe again, biceps flexing at the motion. His arms swing down, then up, then down again. Face concentrated, every movement is steady and assured as he chips away at the bits surrounding Daisuke. Curly barely breaks a sweat, while Jimmy thinks he’s standing in a sauna with how heated he’s becoming.

“There. All done!” Curly tells them when the foam pulls away enough for Daisuke to get free. He hands the axe to Swansea. “I’ll give you the axe too, Swansea, so you won’t need my permission to use it the next time something like this happens.”

Swansea nods. “Probably for the best. With dumbo over here, I don’t doubt that at all.”

“Aw man! I said I was sorry! I was just trying to help…”

“Well, you can help by not helping next time!”

The two start bickering, but it’s mostly Swansea chewing the young man out for endangering his life instead of any concrete argument from Daisuke’s side. Jimmy listens on, mildly amused.

A hand touches his shoulder.

“Hey.” Jimmy is startled to see Curly coming to stand closer to him. His friend’s eyes are soft as they look at him. “Done with the eval, I assume?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I just came from the medbay.” He averts his eyes from Curly’s face to pretend to look around the room. “Clean bill of mental health, as one says… got my bases covered.”

“That’s good then.” Curly smiles gently. “My work here is also done. You’re coming back with me to the cockpit, or is there anything else you need to do before that?”

One of Curly’s fingers brushes the bare skin of his neck, stroking it almost absentmindedly. Jimmy shivers at the sensation. Curly is standing far too close. The air between them is oddly intimate. He clears his throat.

“You go first. I just– I need a bit of time to myself before getting back to work. If that’s alright with you.”

“Sure thing, Jimmy. Take your time.”

Curly squeezes his shoulder gently before looking behind him. “I’ll be going now. Keep up the good work you two!”

Jimmy feels his face flushing even more at the reminder of the two onlookers. Curly goes, and the two remaining people stare at him. Daisuke is smiling widely, while Swansea looks as grumpy as ever. His beady eyes are narrowed as they stare at Jimmy.

Jimmy blinks at them. “What? Why are you two looking at me like that?”

Daisuke giggles to himself. Jimmy doesn’t understand what’s so funny about his question.

“Nothing. It’s just that you've been looking perky lately.”

“Perky?”

“Yeah! You’ve been really nice these days, I gotta say.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “I’m always nice.”

“Sure, sure!”

“Whatever, kid. I’m out of here.” He looks back at Swansea. The old mechanic’s eyes are still narrowed as they look at him. “You got something to say to me?”

Swansea stares at him for a few seconds longer, just enough for him to feel fidgety. The underlying disapproval grates on him. It feels unnervingly like interacting with his father, despite the two being completely different people.

He is about to leave when he hears Swansea mutter under his breath.

“Young men these days. All emotionally constipated assholes… can’t even pull their heads out of their asses.”

Jimmy takes offense to that. He is plenty emotionally sound, thanks very much. After all, Anya passed him without issue, did she not?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He turns back.

“I mean you and that stupid captain of yours.” Swansea levels a deadpan look at him, completely unimpressed. “And don’t even get me started on that dimension travelling little shit. Goddamm headaches, your whole lot.”

Swansea grunts, then points at the two of them with the tip of his axe.

“Shoo! All of you, out! I’m so sick of your shits. Leave me alone to work in peace!”

Jimmy and Daisuke both step back when the axe swings in their direction.

“Whoa!”

“Oi, old man! Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” Jimmy exclaims, taken aback by the sudden movement.

Swansea doesn’t seem to care. He raises the axe as though to prepare for a swing.

“Okay! Okay! Fuck, we’re going!” He grabs Daisuke, hauling ass out of the utility room.

With the door closing behind them, Jimmy turns to look at Daisuke. The intern stands, scratching his head.

“Maybe I really pushed his patience to the breaking point this time…” Daisuke mumbles. “Man, I just wanted to do something right for once.”

“Don’t take it to heart, kid. Swansea is just old and grumpy.”

“Well, I guess… but I still feel bad. I think I’m just creating more work for him to fix…”

Jimmy hums. What the intern is saying isn’t exactly wrong, but it would be a tactless thing to say to him. Jimmy doesn’t want to make the kid feel worse about himself.

However, his consideration for Daisuke seems to be for naught when Daisuke stops his self-conflagration to look at Jimmy, eyes mischievous.

“By the way, I haven’t seen Grant these past few days. Usually, he comes by my room for a quick shower.” Daisuke raises an eyebrow, letting a cheeky grin split across his face. “Do you have any idea where he’s been going these nights?”

The look Daisuke gives him is knowing. Jimmy flushes in dismay.

“How should I know what he does in his free time?” Jimmy scoffs, hoping to keep his poker face. He doesn’t know if it worked or not. Jimmy is terrible at poker, he’s finding out.

In truth, Grant has been meeting up with him every night since the day Jimmy opened his stupid mouth and invited Grant into his room. The other captain has been taking full advantage of Jimmy’s offer, so much so that his meager toiletries have found a place next to Jimmy’s on the rack in his bathroom. Every night without fail, Grant would knock at Jimmy’s door, asking to use his shower. And every time, without fail, Grant would tease him by walking out with his chest on full display, pants hanging low on his hips.

Jimmy has learned to ignore it, but he can’t help the heat crawling up his face every time that happens. It’s infuriating, the way it makes him feel lightheaded with how fast his heart keeps beating. Jimmy is mortified. It’s already bad enough when it was only Curly. He can’t also be feeling things for some Curly-looking doppelganger.

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” Daisuke nods. He doesn’t really look convinced. “But seriously, I hope you know what you’re doing. I know he’s been giving you trouble.”

Jimmy sniffs. He turns to look away. “Thanks for the concern, kid, but I can handle myself. It takes more than some overzealous creep to scare me off.”

He hopes so, too. He hopes he’s doing it the right way when it comes to dealing with not just Grant, but also Curly.

“Worry about yourself, first. Use this time to take a break or something. I’m sure Swansea will call for you again when he’s calmed down.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. He can’t stay mad forever, right?”

Jimmy thinks so, but one can never be too sure of anything. That doesn’t mean he’s going to say that out loud.

“I’m sure not.” He tries a smile, but it may have looked like a grimace. Jimmy is too preoccupied with his own problems to put much effort into this conversation. “Well, time for me to clock in. Any more dilly-dallying and our credit’s going to get docked. I can’t imagine that would make Swansea very happy.”

“Oh shit! Of course!” Daisuke agrees. “Sorry for keeping you. I’ll let you get back to work.”

Jimmy pats Daisuke gently on the back, bidding him farewell. “Good luck, kid. You’ll be alright.”

He walks away, heading for the cockpit where Curly waits. He thinks about passing by the lounge for a bit of refreshment, but ultimately decides against it. It won’t do to waste any more time and let Curly wait for longer than he already has. He also doesn’t want Curly to think that he and Grant could have interacted if he decides to go to the lounge.

Curly has been acting extremely touchy and irritable whenever the topic or even the thought of Grant is brought up. His friend doesn’t act like himself, and Jimmy doesn’t know what to make of it.

Jimmy can handle it if it's just Grant whom he has to watch out for. However, it’s another matter entirely when both Curly and Grant are in the same room as him. There’s a tension brewing between the two captains, lightning crackling in the way they both glare and stare at the other in some unspoken language.

It makes Jimmy’s hair stand on end, unable to predict what might happen next. It feels dangerous, somehow, which is a ridiculous notion. He can’t be certain about Grant, but Curly is as non-threatening as anyone can be.

Jimmy tries his best to herd Curly away from where Grant usually is. He tries his best, too, to hide the fact that Grant often comes to his room at night. For some odd reason, it feels like he’s doing something bad. Like he was sneaking around with someone he shouldn’t. Jimmy feels like he’s being deceitful to Curly, even when there is nothing going on between the two of them.

He tries his best to dismiss the thought. There is nothing usual about this situation they have found themselves in.

For now, that’s the only thing he can do to keep things in check, and Jimmy pats himself on the back for a job well done. It seems like he has established a new routine for himself. A new schedule that he can manage.

His mornings are spent with Curly next to him, while his nights are spent with him trying his best to look anywhere but at Grant as he comes out of the shower dripping wet. Anytime in between has Jimmy playing mediator between the two men.

It’s not like he meant for it to happen, but thanks to it, he and Curly are as close as they once were, and Grant is more or less an annoyance that he can deal with.

Jimmy takes in a deep breath as he stops outside the cockpit, having reached his destination. Through the glass panel, he sees Curly, most of him hidden behind the backrest of his chair.

‘Yes.’ He thinks as he opens the door using his issued key. Curly turns to smile at him, cards already in hand. ‘This new arrangement is more than adequate, accidental or not.’

Jimmy smiles back. He prepares for another ordinary day of work, together with the man he can never have.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be the type,” Jimmy says as he puts down his cards. They’re going through most of the card games they know, and are playing another type of game called Thirteen. They’re halfway through their fourth game now, and so far, Jimmy has lost every single one.

Typical. Luck has never been on his side. At least today is as mundane as ever, or as mundane as it can be with the changes to Jimmy’s daily routine for the last 3 days.

“The type to what?” Curly asks.

“You know. Break rules, disobey company protocols. The things you never do at this job.” Jimmy shrugs. “I thought you stopped being wild.”

Curly hums. He looks pensive for a moment, eyes looking far away. The moment passes, and Curly quirks his lips, a lopsided smile that has Jimmy’s heart galloping away. He looks at Jimmy, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Maybe it’s always been there, just waiting for the right reason to come out.” He wiggles his brows. “I’m plenty wild for the right person, if you catch my drift.”

Jimmy snorts. He rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the ladies, will you. Don’t make me punch you.”

Curly chuckles. He slaps down the last four cards he has on his hand just as Jimmy puts down his two of hearts, the highest valued single card in his deck. The bastard has just countered his best card.

“A four of a kind?! You’re kidding!”

Curly just laughs louder at Jimmy’s outburst, the sound echoing in the cockpit. Jimmy flings out his remaining cards, lounging back in his chair and scowling.

“Damnit.” He grouses. This is getting ridiculous. Someone must’ve cursed him to be doomed in everything that he tries his hand at.

“Aww Jimmy, don’t pout.”

“I ain’t pouting! I don’t pout! It’s a scowl!” Jimmy clicks his tongue. “Son of a bitch. Why are you so damn lucky?!”

“Dunno. You’re the one who cut and dealt the cards. Maybe you’re the reason why I’m getting lucky.”

Jimmy watches as Curly gathers the cards to shuffle them again. Thick, steady fingers, blond hair dusted on the back of his hands. Jimmy wants to hold them, wants to rub them on his cheeks. He wants to be held by them.

“How many games have we gone through already? I lost count.”

“Don’t know. I just know I haven’t managed to win that bottle of yours. Yet.” Jimmy narrows his eyes. “Are you cheating?”

“How can I? I didn’t even know how to play this game before you taught me yesterday.”

Jimmy huffs. “You’re so fucking annoying, Curly. At this rate, I might need to bet something else. Shit. I might have to let you cut my hair!”

“Another game?” Curly sounds hopeful. “You don’t even need to bet on anything if you don’t want to.”

“No… I’m getting sick of it. I don’t want to keep losing. It’s no fun.” He cracks his neck. “Let’s just play a new game. I call it ‘the staying silent game’. How’s that?”

Curly chuckles, shaking his head. “And what are the rules? How are we going to communicate if something comes up? Hand signals?”

“Mmh mnh mnh.” Jimmy mimes, scrunching his nose.

Curly laughs and tries to reach over to grab at him. Jimmy leans back, sticking out his tongue. He makes some vague noises when Curly looks at him, indulgent and amused.

“Real mature, Jimmy.”

“Bah!” Jimmy grins. Maybe he’s acting childish, but he doesn’t care. It’s just Curly, and Jimmy doesn’t need to put on a serious act when it’s just the two of them. “You lost, Curls.”

Curly settles back into his chair, a faint smile on his lips. He grips the steering wheel and pulls it a little to lift the ship up and on track. Steady, restrained. Curly always keeps himself in check, a far cry from Jimmy’s volatile nature. It’s why he’s captain. It’s why Jimmy can never catch up to him.

“Guess I lost, huh.” Curly looks at him from the corner of his eye, head slightly turned. It’s warm and kind. Jimmy feels heat pools low in his guts. “Tell you this. Forget about the bets. How about we take one of these days off to crack open that bottle?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead. “Drinking on the job? You’ve really gone off the rails, Curly.”

“I mean, I still have to work as captain, but you can take it easy once in a while as long as I can be here to monitor the ship.”

“But that’s–” He starts to protest. It’s no fun drinking alone.

“I’ll be drinking with you.” Curly nods knowingly. “Besides, it’s not like we'll do it until we black out or anything. It’s fine if we’re careful. And of course, since it’s my idea, I’m not going to snitch either.”

Oh.

It's been so long since they’ve drunk together. And now, Curly is actively making plans to spend time with him, overlooking rules and regulations. It makes Jimmy feel giddy and special. Curly is looking fondly at him again, speaking to him comfortably again. Once more, Curly is Jimmy's friend before he is Jimmy’s Captain. The coldness and professionalism of the past few years seem to be thawing.

Jimmy nods, trying not to let his excitement show. “Alright. If you can set the time, then it’s a date.”

Curly’s smile seems to falter at that, face turning stony. It makes Jimmy flounder to cover up his mistake.

“I mean, it’s a hangout. Between friends. We’ll just drink and hang out like we used to do, yeah?”

Curly’s gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Jimmy winces inwardly.

He messed up. He needs to start thinking more before he speaks.

“I just–”

“Yeah.”

Jimmy stops short.

“Yeah it’s–” Curly swallows, voice tight with tension. He clears his throat. “–it’s a date. Friends. Yeah, I can do that.”

He turns to look at Jimmy.

“My room? It’s a bit bigger. More space to lounge about.”

“I’m fine with that.” Jimmy sounds eager, way too eager even to his own ears. He tries to dial it back. “I mean, hanging in your room means rarely getting disturbed, too. Safer that way. We don’t want to get caught, after all.”

“That’s true. Then let’s–”

Message incoming.

Curly cuts himself off, turning to look at the words on the screen.

“Damn, it’s the big guys themselves. Ah… I really don’t know what they want this time.”

“Well. I guess that’s my cue. Just in time for lunch break, too.” Jimmy stands, yawning. “Want me to wait for you to finish?”

Curly works his jaws as he thinks it over. The message on screen flashes again: Message incoming.

He sighs.

“No. No, it’s okay. I don’t know how long this is going to take.” Curly sounds unhappy. He looks up at Jimmy. “You can go ahead. Don’t wait up.”

“… alright,” Jimmy agrees.

He looks at Curly’s tired form and doesn’t know how to help. It seems being captain is a more taxing job than he first thought. Jimmy used to entertain the thought of being captain himself, but seeing how he would have to talk to people, talk to his bosses, people who basically hold his fate in their hands, he supposed being Co-pilot is enough stress already. Combine that with social interactions, and he might go insane.

Jimmy puts his hand on Curly’s shoulder, blinking in surprise when Curly jumps at the action. He must be even more exhausted than usual. Jimmy squeezes Curly’s shoulder lightly. The muscles under the uniform are firm, strong. Like when Curly was swinging that axe.

Jimmy pulls back, coughing to hide his fluster.

“Hang in there, Captain mine. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

Curly smiles faintly, eyes looking far away. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m just… really in no mood to answer. But work’s work.”

“Mmh. Well, good luck. We’ll plan our drinking session another time.”

“Another time.” Curly chuckles. He snaps his finger, as if just remembering something. “Ah. Before you go.”

Curly rummages through one of the drawers on his side of the room, taking out a radio communicator.

“Here. So you can call for me if anything happens. I meant to give it to you earlier, but I got too busy winning at cards.” Curly smiles cheekily.

“Ugh. You’re such an asshole, Curls.” Jimmy kicks at Curly’s chair.

“Fine. Gimme then.” He takes the device and squints. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Grant, does it?”

“Why would you think that? I’m just concerned about your general well-being. No ulterior motives, promise.” Curly blinks at him, trying and failing at acting innocent.

“Yeah right, doofus.”

“Yep, nothing of the sort. You get me.” Curly nods along. “But still…”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. He should have known. “Alright, alright. If he steps a toe out of line, I’ll call you. Is that good enough for you?”

“Yeah. That’s good.”

The message on the screen flares up again. The blinking is even more insistent than the last. Curly pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“Alright. I need to get this. Can’t let them wait too long.” Curly shoots him an apologetic look before turning back to the communication screen.

Jimmy heads for the door. “Have fun!” He yells back before closing it, snickering to himself when Curly lets out an exasperated sound.

His mirth dies down as he walks along the hallway, something warm and bubbly curls inside his chest.

A date. No, a hangout.

Jimmy hums to himself, happy. He has something to look forward to, now, and not even the thought of his nasty lunch can bring him down from his high.

Grant has had better sleep for the last few days, and a large part of it is thanks to Jimmy offering him the extra layers to combat the cold air. He has also been seeing Jimmy a lot more, too, with how often he takes over Jimmy’s personal shower in his room.

The pilot is becoming more and more adorable with how vehemently he denies himself, turning his face and covering his eyes every time Grant walks out of the shower shirtless. It’s too damn cold on this fucking ship to be going around half naked, but all of it is acceptable if it means getting to see Jimmy’s face set ablaze with embarrassment.

Cute.

It makes Grant want to see if Jimmy will sound just as cute pinned under him.

However, there is one thing–person–spoiling his fun, and ironically enough, it's himself.

Fucking Curly. It has stopped being entertaining to look at the man’s sneering, jealous face for a while. It’s more pathetic now, seeing the way Curly sticks to Jimmy like a limpet, taking up his time and attention.

Jimmy never looks completely at ease with Grant whenever Curly is there, eyes glaring and jaws clenched at their interaction. Jimmy cuts their time short, trying his best to usher Curly away instead of talking back and giving Grant the time of day.

How annoying. It pisses him off to be a second thought.

But Curly doesn’t accompany Jimmy every waking moment, Grant observes. Of course he can’t. Despite clearly wanting to, sometimes work does actually call for Curly’s attendance.

Grant supposes that today is one such day. And what a lucky day for him, indeed.

Lunch break comes, and Grant is already sitting at the table when Jimmy trudges into the lounge just as he does every day. He observes, however, that there’s one thing missing this time around.

“Where’s your guard dog?” He asks Jimmy. Both of them were missing this morning, and Curly isn’t here with the pilot for his lunch break. While Grant’s not complaining, it’s a shift from how the past week and a half has gone.

“He’s not my dog,” Jimmy tells him, brown eyes rolling. He doesn’t deny how Grant just called his friend a dog.

Jimmy smiles to himself, looking pleased as punch as he continues, “Curly just got some messages to answer. And I can take care of myself, no need for a chaperone.”

Grant watches as Jimmy moves to stand near the food dispenser. Choosing a pack for himself, Jimmy bends to pick the item from the drop box. Once again, Grant is mesmerised by the sight. He tilts his head for a better angle.

His package secured, Jimmy stands upright to look back. For some reason, Grant turns his head to look away. He doesn’t know why he’s being more thoughtful of Jimmy’s comfort all of a sudden.

“Lunch?” Jimmy asks. It’s the second time he invites Grant to eat.

The concern for his well-being fills him with warmth.

Grant shrugs. “No thanks.”

Jimmy twists his lips.

“Well,” Jimmy says. “It’s none of my business, but don’t go starving yourself, alright? Food’s not the best, but it’s something at least.”

Jimmy heads to the kitchen next, putting the meal inside the microwave and turning it on. He shifts from one foot to another as he waits. Jimmy hums to himself, an unfamiliar tune.

Jimmy seems to be in better spirits compared to the few days of Curly accompanying him. So that’s saying something.

“What’s got you so happy, kitten?”

“Nothing.” A quick reply, knee-jerk. Jimmy stops moving as much, but there’s a smile etched on his face, still.

The microwave chimes. Jimmy takes out his food carefully, moving quickly to put the plate on the table. He takes out a chair as he sits across from Grant, much to his surprise.

‘Jimmy has been getting more comfortable around me these days.’ Grant muses.

Grant leans back on the backrest of his chair as he watches Jimmy eat. Like always, he stares at Jimmy’s mouth as it blows on the hot food, as it opens and closes on the utensil. He stares and stares as Jimmy’s pink tongue darts out a little to lick away a bit of sauce that has gotten smudged at the corner of his lips. Grant copies the motion, something like want welling up inside his chest. Jimmy looks up at him.

“What’re you staring at?” Jimmy asks, spoon gesturing at him.

“I’m always staring at you.” Grant points out.

Jimmy crinkles his nose. It’s cute, in Grant’s opinion. “Yeah, but this one feels different this time. Have I got something on my face? I know I shaved and all, but I don’t think I look all that different.”

Grant smirks at him. “Uh-huh. It just makes the sauce stuck to your face more visible.”

“What? Where?” Grant points at his chin, and Jimmy starts patting at the same spot. Grant points at his cheek, and Jimmy wipes a hand on both sides of his face. Then, he points at his forehead, and Jimmy seemingly has had enough.

“You’re just fucking with me!” Jimmy gripes, kicking at Grant’s leg under the table.

He laughs. It’s far too easy to be entertained with Jimmy around. He puts his hands in a surrender motion.

Jimmy rolls his eyes, but his leg attacks relent. He huffs before shoveling food into his mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk.

Pouting.

Grant smiles to himself but doesn’t say the thought out loud. He knows Jimmy will just deny it. He opts to watch in silence, waiting for the pilot to calm down.

After a while, Jimmy speaks again:

“So.”

Grant lifts his brows as he listens to Jimmy willingly initiating conversation. Jimmy continues. “When will you be able to get back to your world? Or how, actually.”

“You really want to know?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I don’t.” Jimmy snorts.

Amusement makes Grant’s lips twitch.

Cheeky thing. What a brat.

Grant decides to humour him. Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, he pulls out a metal contraption from his pocket.

“I’ll do it thanks to this,” he says, holding up a cylinder-looking metal device.

Jimmy reaches out as if to hold it just in time for Grant to pull it away from the pilot’s reach.

“Ah-ah. Can’t have you tamper with it. I might get stuck here you know.” Grant clicks his tongue. “Thought you might not want me to be.” He remarks, chuckling a little.

“What is it?” Jimmy asks, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity.

“A multi-dimensional transporter device, or so we’ve been calling it. Brand new tech.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “Maybe I shouldn’t have messed around with it just as our ship was passing through an ion storm. But oh well, what’s done is done.”

“Sounds risky,” Jimmy comments. There’s a small frown on his face that looks almost like concern.

“Sure is. But don’t worry, it’s not the first time this has happened to me.” He waves it away.

How darling of Jimmy to worry about Grant’s safety. A part of him preens at the attention Jimmy is giving him without Curly’s oppressive presence making the pilot feel self-conscious.

“Not the first? But why do that to yourself?”

“Ah… It’s all part of the testing process, you see. The Fleet is still looking into what the limits of these things are, so it’s all trial and error in this line of work.”

Grant sniffs. “Good fucking pay, though. Can’t argue with that.”

“Fleet?" Jimmy perks up at the phrasing. "Sounds militant, where you come from."

Oops. Ah well, it’s not like he’s trying to hide it.

“It is.” Grant agrees, but doesn’t divulge more information on the topic. Jimmy’s prying, which means he’s interested in getting to know Grant.

He’ll let Jimmy come to him, let the man take the lead. Just this time.

“Just what kind of captain are you?”

“I dunno, sweetheart. Why don’t you take a guess?” He smirks at Jimmy, feeling gratified when the brunet’s face colours faintly.

“Why should I? You can just tell me!”

“But there’s no fun in that.” He chuckles. “Just try. I’ll reward you if you guess correctly.”

“Fuck off. I don’t need your ‘reward’.” Jimmy chews on his bottom lip despite saying it. It seems like he’s thinking it over.

‘Such a bad liar.’ Grant thinks to himself. ‘He’s so easy to read.’

“Um. Some type of military-related rank? You said you’re familiar with spaceships, so… some kind of interstellar battleship?”

Smart.

“Oh my. How spot on.” He smiles, vaguely impressed. It’s not an exact answer, but close enough.

His ship, the USS Pegasus, is a mere Oberth-class science vessel, adequate when it comes to defensive abilities but quite lacking in offensive equipment. Though according to talks from his higher-ups, Grant is quite certain his current ship would be decommissioned after this voyage, with him being assigned to captain a bigger, more offensively equipped vessel. The name of said vessel? USS Tulpar.

How fascinating, the way parallel dimensions work.

“Hah! It’s not difficult to discern. There’s no such thing as a space military here, but I do watch lots of those retro space operas.” Jimmy huffs proudly.

“Is that so? I’m glad. That means you’ll be reminded of me whenever you watch your favorite shows.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes, but it’s a halfhearted thing. “Whatever. Who’s to say I’ll watch them now that I know what you are? Maybe I don’t want to be reminded of you.”

“Only you can answer that, I suppose. In any case, you guessed correctly. And that means you’re deserving of a little praise, don’t you think?” Grant leans forward a little more. He reaches out to lift Jimmy’s chin up with his fingers. Jimmy splutters.

“That won’t be necessary–!”

“You did so well," he says, lowering his voice and cutting off Jimmy’s embarrassed protest. "Good boy, Jimmy.” It’s the first time he called Jimmy by his name.

Jimmy smacks Grant’s hand away as he blushes wildly, face beet red. He ducks his head and resumes eating. The space between them is now filled with Jimmy’s flustered silence.

Grant looks on as Jimmy tucks a strand of hair behind his ear just as it was about to touch his plate. Inexplicably, Grant wants to be the one doing that for Jimmy, wants to touch his hair and see how it feels.

“So why haven’t you used it to get back? I can’t imagine it’s fun being stranded somewhere not your own.” Jimmy clears his throat and frowns. “Is it broken?”

“The device’s fine, but I need a bit of time before the energy fully recharges. I also need the right time and place, of course.”

“Then, how are you coming back? Seems to me that’s putting a lot of your faith in luck.”

“I wait for another storm to approach. Or a wormhole to appear before us. But that’s rare in and of itself.” Grant shrugs. “So I’m placing my bets on the ion storm.”

Jimmy looks confused. The terms that are being thrown around must not be something he hears often. “And these ‘ion storms’, how are you going to know when they show up?”

“We usually have the ship’s sensors to detect them. Your ship doesn’t have such technology quite yet, so we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

Grant looks at Jimmy, who cocks his head.

“Just look for the blinking lights, just like how this ship reacted the last time.”

Jimmy hums in acquiescence then falls silent. He eats his food, gaze averted from the man sitting across the table. The brunet looks distracted. He chews and hums to himself, mouth set in a faint smile.

Something must have happened with Curly for Jimmy to act this way. Happy and unguarded. Who else has Jimmy been around since morning, if not Curly?

Grant feels his eye twitch at the reminder of the other man.

He touches his ankle against Jimmy’s, simply letting it stay there. Jimmy startles. He looks up into Grant’s eyes.

“Did I satisfy your curiosity, Jimmy?” Grant asks, tone soft. He looks into the pilot’s eyes as he supports his chin on his palm, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“I can teach you more about where I’m from if you ask. I’ll be your teacher, if you want some one-on-one tutoring. I’m sure my experience will be satisfying for us both.”

Jimmy blushes at the suggestive words, though they are far tamer than what Grant usually says. He finishes up the last of his lunch before standing up.

“Maybe,” Jimmy says, walking away.

Grant’s eyes follow the pilot as he puts the dishes into the washer. The dish is cleaned, and Jimmy puts it away in the cupboard.

“Thanks, for humoring me.” Jimmy turns back to him. “It’s interesting. Your world, I mean.”

Grant inclines his head. “Anytime. But I don’t think you understood half of what I just told you.”

“No shit! That’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard!” Jimmy snorts. “Had it not been for you being here, I’d say you’re making shit up.”

“I could still be.” Grant challenges. “Maybe I’m just lying to you to make myself sound cooler.”

“Then you failed! You sound like such a nerd.” Jimmy only laughs, voice filled with mirth. He clears his throat. “Anyways, I need to get back to the cockpit. The break is almost over.”

“Well, if you want extra lessons, you know where to find me. I know how to handle naughty students.” He smirks at Jimmy. “You just need some discipline, isn’t that right?”

Jimmy splutters. “In your dreams, pervert!” He turns to walk away, but stops just as his hand is about to touch the door.

Jimmy returns to the lounge, taking another meal kit from the machine and quickly moves to the kitchen. He makes quick work of heating up the food and plating it just as he did before.

“Still hungry?” Grant asks, confused.

Jimmy doesn’t look up.

“No. It’s for Curly.” He says as he pours some water into a mug.

Annoyance surges inside Grant.

‘Curly this, Curly that.’

Curly, Curly, Curly.

Even when the fucker isn’t with them, he somehow is present, still.

Goddamnit. And they were having such a nice conversation, too.

“Why? I’m sure he can take care of himself.” He sounds bothered, even to his own ears. Grant is getting a bit too invested, but strangely enough, he cares not how he appears like outwardly.

Jimmy just shrugs. “Break’s over. Curly won’t be able to get his lunch on time. He can eat while he works.”

With that, Jimmy takes the plate. He grabs some utensils and the mug of water with his other hand. Walking to the door, the pilot pauses. Both of his hands are full.

Jimmy looks back at Grant, nodding at his hands.

“Uh, do you mind?” He blinks, brown eyes beseeching.

Grant stands with a sigh. He doesn’t know why he keeps listening and doing what Jimmy tells him to. He opens the door, making Jimmy smile up at him. The brunet’s eyes crinkle sweetly.

“Thanks!”

Grant’s heart skips.

No good. Bad.

Grant watches Jimmy’s back as he departs from the room, head reeling. He takes note of how soft and pleased those brown eyes can become. It’s the same way Jimmy looks at Curly when the captain isn’t looking.

There’s an odd, squirmy feeling inside of him from knowing he can be looked at the same way, warm, unguarded. His heart is beating hard for no particular reason. He thumps a fist at his chest, frowning.

‘Must be a heart disease. Some side effects of dimensional travel.’ He reasons.

‘Yeah, it must be.’

It’s probably nothing to worry about. He’ll just file a report about this into the database after he’s home. Surely, the science team will appreciate his new findings.

Jimmy returns to the cockpit to see Curly staring into space through the glass panel. Whatever the company told Curly, it left him in a bad mood.

He kicks at the door, just enough for Curly to hear. Curly turns to look.

“Curly! Open the door!”

Jimmy walks in when the door opens, pushing the plate of food and the water mug into Curly’s chest.

“Here. Got you something. Don’t go hungry.” Jimmy grumbles, pushing down his embarrassment. He’s just now realising how much he’s acting like some kind of housewife, making Curly lunch and looking after him.

“Eat. I don’t want to hear your stomach grumble for the rest of the day.” He sits back on his chair, avoiding eye contact. His ears are burning. “I can take over for a while so you can rest.”

He can feel Curly’s eyes on him. It makes him feel even more self-conscious.

“What?!”

“Nothing,” Curly quickly says. “Just… thank you, Jimmy.”

“Mmh. Don’t say I never do anything for you.” Jimmy huffs. He changes the subject. “So what did they say to you?”

“Hm?”

“Pony Express. What did they call you for? Doesn’t look like good news, from the way you react.”

“Oh, that. It’s nothing. Uh…” Curly flounders. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Jimmy narrows his eyes. “One of those ‘classified’ shit again, I assume?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”

Typical. Of course it is. Curly is a far more important company asset than the rest of their lot. Of course he gets to know things they can’t.

“Whatever.” Jimmy dismisses, mood souring. “Just eat your food.”

Curly eats. And Jimmy picks up the slack. Anything Curly can do in this cockpit, Jimmy can do the same. He just doesn’t have the years of experience to make captain. He’s not as calm, as collected as Curly is.

He looks at Curly and is reminded of everything that he is not, of all the traits his father had tried to beat into him as a child. It’s ironic that instead of becoming the man his old man wanted him to be, Jimmy has gone and fallen in love with one instead. The bastard must be rolling in his grave.

Sucks to suck. Jimmy doesn’t give a rat’s ass what some dead fuck thinks. Once upon a time, he might have, when holding hands with a boy warranted a beating, and slurs being thrown around the house was the norm in his life. It was easy to buy into the mindset when the men his father surrounded himself with kept telling him to “toughen up” and “be a real man”. No son of his father was to be a pansy, the dead man had said. And Jimmy had believed it. Young, foolish, insecure, he parroted everything that was said to him to anyone who cared to hear.

It has taken him an embarrassingly long time to realise the feelings he has for his best friend, and an even longer time to finally admit it to himself. Still, it will be a cold day in hell before Jimmy tells Curly that. Curly has never given Jimmy an inkling that he even swings the same way. And though Curly has never reacted differently towards men who like other men, Jimmy couldn’t be so sure he would be fine with someone thinking about him like that.

After all, Curly didn’t say anything when Jimmy himself made nasty remarks about them when they were younger, when Jimmy was still denying that part of himself. Curly had sat there as he listened to Jimmy’s rant, full of self-hatred and bigotry perpetuated by his father and the men Jimmy surrounded himself with, nodding in intervals and not saying a word.

It can be no big deal, or it can mean losing the only long-term friend Jimmy has ever had. He isn’t about to test the theory.

“Did anything happen during lunch?” Curly asks him.

Jimmy laments as he looks back at the man he calls Captain. Grant’s appearance on the ship truly has put a wrench in their relationship. Curly is so meddlesome with this whole situation, so obviously bothered by it that Jimmy can’t help but think he has made the right call hiding his feelings away.

‘How much more disturbed Curly must be if he knew about Jimmy’s secret? How creeped out must he feel if the truth ever comes out?’ Jimmy shivers inwardly.

Curly will leave him behind if that happens. And so, Curly can never know.

“Nothing, actually. He’s surprisingly civil today.”

Curly frowns, like he doesn’t believe Jimmy’s words. “Are you… sure? No words, no… inappropriate touches. Nothing?”

“Yes.” Jimmy rolls his eyes. “He’s playing nice today.”

And Grant has been. He’s far more subdued today than the other times they spoke. He even helped Jimmy open the door without complaints, like a gentleman.

‘What’s up with that?’ Now that Jimmy thinks about it.

Curly still looks disbelieving. It’s starting to piss him off. Curly doesn’t trust him, that much is clear. It hurts him more than he thought it would.

“Believe me or don’t. What do I get by lying to you about this? I went in, ate some shit food and then left. I even brought you back some, thank me very much.” Jimmy huffs, irritated. His goodwill seemingly squandered.

“You know what, I don’t have to explain anything to you. Take it or leave it, I don’t give a shit.”

“Jimmy, come on. I just–”

“Shut up. I don’t fucking care, Captain.”

Curly only sighs again. He sounds disappointed. Jimmy has to bite the insides of his cheek to stop himself from making excuses and explaining himself. Curly has always had this uncanny ability to make him feel reprimanded whenever he acts like that.

‘Like a brat.’ Curly once said during one memorable, explosive fight.

They got into an even bigger fight after that, too. Curly hasn’t called him that since, and he doubts Curly will call him out on it now.

What was the fight even about before that? He doesn’t remember the details. Something about Curly's girlfriend at the time taking up too much of his time. Time that he should spend with Jimmy instead.

Jimmy hates it. He hates the way he wants to be good, obedient so Curly would be pleased. He wants to be praised, be told he’s doing good, doing great.

He hates it, he hates it so much. It feels like talking to his father again. Jimmy can never please him, even when he’s already dead. He’s never at the top of his class, never the best at sports. He’s never good enough to get acknowledged, but also not so terrible that he needs extra attention. He’s beaten when he falls off, and ignored when he’s doing well. Jimmy can never please anyone.

'Except for Grant.' A voice in his head reminds him. 'Good boy, he told you. You did so well, he had said.'

Jimmy shakes his head vehemently. Grant was just messing around. The man didn't actually mean anything by saying that.

He fumes silently for the rest of the shift, irritated at everything and nothing in particular. He keeps chewing on his lips until the skin breaks, restless. He ignores the tang of copper on his tongue.

Curly stays silent at the tension. Jimmy hates his silence, too.

Their last shift for the day ends. Jimmy scurries out of there without a goodbye. Jimmy heads for his room. He changes out of his flight suit, throws the radio communicator carelessly on the bed and waits for the time Grant usually knocks on his door for the late shower.

He waits and waits.

It’s past their usual scheduled time. Grant still hasn’t come.

Jimmy sets out to find him instead.

Chapter Text

Grant is late.

It’s past 11, about 20 more minutes till midnight. Jimmy waits to hear the familiar knock on his door signalling Grant’s usual visit. The blond usually comes to him around 10, sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but never past 11, and certainly not after midnight.

Jimmy feels annoyance licking at him. He doesn’t have time to entertain Grant’s tardiness. What does the guy even do to be held up on this ship?

With that in mind, Jimmy stands from his bed. He makes for the door, rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he goes. Goosebumps break out on his skin. It’s always so damn cold on this fucking ship. He walks along the familiar hallway, the sight of which he has memorised during his wandering times. Jimmy has had trouble sleeping, and taking walks around the spacecraft has become one of his go-to remedies for the issue.

Another way he copes with it? Well, he doesn’t want anyone to smell it on him. They might report him back to the company, and he can’t really afford to lose this job. Furthermore, it’s not like he has an unlimited supply of the stuff he snuck on board.

Jimmy heads to the lounge. He stands outside the room, the low light through the glass window casting shadows on his face.

Grant is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He looks less than put-together.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Jimmy thinks as concern and curiosity build. ‘Is he still having trouble sleeping?’

He steps into the lounge just as Grant looks up. The man tries cocking a smirk, but all that comes out is a grimace. Jimmy walks up to him.

“You didn’t come by. What’s up with you?” He asks without fanfare. He’s grumpy and impatient, and there’s no point in beating around the bush. It’s just Grant.

“Tired.” Grant shrugs. And Jimmy knows bullshit when he sees one. Grant was fine during their lunch earlier.

“No, you’re not.” He dismisses. “Try again.”

“Motion sickness?”

“A seasoned captain like you? That’s real lame. Not it either.” He scoffs.

Grant cards a hand through his blond hair, huffing in annoyance.

“I don’t have the patience for this.”

Jimmy thinks it’s a bit rich for Grant to be saying this when he’s the one messing around with Jimmy these few days. He crosses his arms and refuses to leave until he gets his answer.

Grant glares at him, and the effect is dampened by how tired and how alike Curly he looks. Jimmy finds Curly to be as intimidating as a puppy.

Finally, Grant sighs. “Nicotine.”

What?

Something must show on Jimmy’s face, because Grant reiterates.

“Need a smoke. Feeling a bit off without it.”

Jimmy blinks at him. “You smoke?” Curly doesn’t. Not anymore. Another difference between the two.

Grant nods. He pinches at the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, massaging it gently.

“You’ve been handling it surprisingly well for someone who hasn’t gotten a hit for over a week.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t just be losing my shit every time I don’t get my way, can I? Like you say, I’m a seasoned captain.” Grant sighs. “I got through the worst of it, but I get cravings from time to time.”

“Huh. That’s… admirable,” Jimmy remarks. “Is that why you’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Part of it,” Grant mutters. He sounds more tired than Jimmy has ever heard him.

It also has the unintended effect of making Grant look more like Curly in his eyes. Deep sighs, tired eyes. Jimmy stands before Curly, heart thudding in his chest. He tucks his hands into his armpits, half trying to keep himself warm, half to stop his hands from fidgeting.

Jimmy is about to make a mistake.

“So what do you smoke?” He never learns. He doesn’t know why he keeps inviting more interaction with Grant.

“I doubt you have any on this ship. By how run-down this thing looks, a single spark might just turn it aflame.”

Jimmy cocks his head. “Try me.”

Grant leans back on the chair to look up at Jimmy in the eye. Jimmy looks back. He refuses to back down.

“Don’t know if you have the same brand here, but cigars are my choice of the death stick.”

Jimmy hums. Cigars are a luxury, one that Jimmy does not have. That’s not to say he doesn’t have the other, cheaper version. Cigarettes are just that, cigarettes. It doesn’t matter what fancy brand name you put on them. They all kill you, sooner or later. Still, Jimmy will gladly trade off a few years of his life if it means getting some moments of pure intoxicated pleasure.

“Can’t say I got any of those cigars–,”

Grant turns his head with a disappointed snort. “Told you.”

“–but you can still get your nicotine fix if you don’t mind it being cheap.”

Blond brows climb high onto his forehead, Grant looks at Jimmy in surprise and rising hope. “Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Jimmy replies, one eyebrow raised.

“Then.” Grant motions with his hands. Jimmy snorts at the audacity.

‘What a prick. He’s lucky he’s good-looking.’ Jimmy thinks, then immediately slaps himself mentally. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. The fatigue must be getting to him.

“Wait here,” he says as he turns to walk out of the lounge.

Back in his room, Jimmy is pulling out his stash of cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke all that much anymore, now that he’s doing long hauls for Pony Express and there’s a limit to what he can bring aboard. He isn’t supposed to bring any of these on the ship, much less a lighter, either. But Jimmy is a sneaky bastard, and he likes knowing he’ll be able to get something should he want it. At the very least, he’s in control of something, however insignificant. Tonight, he finally has the chance to take them out for a spin.

Jimmy comes back to the lounge and sees Grant in the same position as when he left. Jimmy sympathises. The guy must be feeling miserable.

“Here.” Jimmy nudges the man’s calf with his foot, holding out a stick of cigarette.

“And I’m just going to put it between my mouth and pray that it catches fire?” Grant snarks, but he takes the offered item anyway.

Jimmy rolls his eyes. He reaches into his pants pockets to pull out a lighter. He shakes it in front of Grant’s face.

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

Grant whistles. He grabs the lighter and proceeds to light the cigarette. Putting the stick between his lips, he takes a long drag, holding it in. Grant groans in contentment as he blows out the smoke.

“This company lets you bring these things on? Safety violation, much?” Grant asks while looking at the cigarette in his hand and inspecting it.

“Depends.” Jimmy just shrugs as he sits down on the couch, a few paces from Grant. “You gonna light the ship on fire?”

Grant snorts. He shakes his head. “Your Captain knows about this?”

“Nope. What? You gonna snitch on me?”

“Wouldn’t dare.” Grant turns to look at Jimmy, contemplation in his eyes. Jimmy looks back, head tilted.

Grant leans over with a smirk, and Jimmy just knows he’s going to say something irksome.

“Such a naughty boy, Jimmy.”

Jimmy kicks at the man’s feet, giving him a dirty look. Calling him “good”, then calling him “naughty”. Grant needs to just pick one and stay with it.

“Just shut up and smoke,” he grumbles.

Grant chuckles, but he does just as Jimmy asked. The two of them sit in companionable silence. It’s weirdly comforting.

The pilot stares at the moon on the screen, mind drifting. Curly used to smoke as well, before he quit. Curly and he once shared a joint, hidden away on the rooftop of Curly’s house while he was still staying with his parents. It remains one of the fonder memories he has with Curly. They don’t do that anymore, now that Curly has stopped smoking of any kind altogether and they become more distant either due to work or other reasons Jimmy isn’t privy to.

How can the two be so different, he wonders, and yet so alike? Same build, same voice. Grant’s eyes are the same blue as Curly’s, perhaps just that tiniest bit darker should one care to look. It’s difficult to tell them apart based solely on their voices and physical appearances. Personality-wise, they couldn’t be more different. If only Curly were interested in him in the way Grant has shown, if only he could be more than just a friend.

But it can’t be. Ever since Jimmy knew him, Curly has never dated any man, only women, none of whom ever lasted for longer than a year. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, striking features. Almost like Anya, really. Or Jimmy, if he were a woman. But he’s not, and that’s that.

“Thinking about something?” Grant’s voice cuts through his musings.

Jimmy inhales sharply as his mind returns to the present. He looks at Grant, at the cigarette caught between his lips. Grant takes a drag, cheeks hollowing. Jimmy swallows.

It’s unfair how good he looks doing something as mundane as this.

“Nothing.” Jimmy stands. He ignores the way Grant’s eyes trail over his figure as he turns around. “I’m gonna head to bed now.”

Jimmy is about to walk away when Grant pulls him back by the wrist, making him stumble into Grant’s lap in surprise. When he looks up, the captain’s face is right in his. Jimmy stares into Grant’s deep blues, and for a moment, time seems to stop.

“Thank you,” Grant tells him. “I appreciate it.”

The captain’s mouth curves into a warm smile. Jimmy’s heart starts to pound.

“Don’t mention it,” he breathes.

This is merely a “thank you” for having indulged Jimmy in his curiosity during lunch earlier. It means nothing to him, he reasons.

A warm hand cradles his head, and Jimmy stays still. Brown eyes go wide as Grant’s face moves closer and closer, until their lips are hovering over each other. Jimmy’s holding his breath, body thrumming with anticipation.

Then Grant turns to take a drag from the cigarette in his hand, just to blow the smoke back into Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy sputters. He pushes away and stands.

“Ack! What the hell?”

Grant laughs as Jimmy fans the smoke from his face, scowling and coughing.

“You should see the look on your face. You’re so damn cute, kitten.”

“This shit again! Not your petting zoo, not your kitten. Ugh, why did I even help you?” Jimmy grouses out. That’s on him for trying to be nice. Jimmy really shouldn’t have.

Grant smirks. Jimmy feels his agitation grow. “Because you like me. You only need to stop denying it.”

“Argh! You–!” Jimmy starts, but he stops himself by closing his eyes and taking a big, deep breath. ‘Breathing exercise, breathing exercise. Focus, Jimmy. You’ve grown past your anger issues. It’s also too late to be blowing a gasket.’

“You know what? I’m not doing this with you right now. Forget about your nightly habits, I’m going to bed,” Jimmy says as he stomps to the door. “Have a not good night!” He throws back just as he steps into the hallway.

From where he stands, Jimmy can hear Grant’s amused chuckle. It annoys him to no end.

See if he’ll ever give Grant his fix again. Jimmy’s done with playing nice.

Jimmy fumes as he walks back to his cabin, knowing full well he’s lying to himself.

It only serves to make him more upset.

“Jimmy.”

’What now?!’

Jimmy barely manages to reach his bedroom when he’s called. It is much too late for anyone to be up, not when they still have work to do in the early morning. It can’t be Grant, not when Jimmy just came back from meeting up with him, but both his and Curly's voices are so similar that it confuses Jimmy temporarily.

“What is it, Curly?” Jimmy asks without turning around. He isn’t expecting Curly to also have trouble with sleeplessness.

Curly doesn’t reply. Jimmy feels his head throbbing in aggravation. He turns, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brows.

“What do you want?”

“Where did you go, Jimmy? I tried your door earlier, but you weren’t in.” Curly asks him instead, completely ignoring Jimmy’s own question. “I was about to go find you.”

Jimmy shrugs. He isn’t about to tell Curly he’s just come back from talking to Grant, lest Curly start hounding him about the topic again.

“I was just walking around, trying to use up some energy. Can’t sleep.”

“Ah.” Curly lets out an understanding noise. “I see.” He falls silent.

Jimmy purses his lips when Curly starts shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He isn’t in the mood for whatever it is Curly wants to lecture him about.

“If that is all.” He turns back to opening his door and walks into his room. Just as the door is about to shut, a hand grabs onto its hinges, stopping the motion.

“Wait. Jim.”

Jimmy narrows his eyes as he looks up into Curly’s face. Curly looks like a kicked puppy. He finds himself softening at the sight. It’s hard to stay angry at Curly for too long.

He tries to sound grumpy, but instead, what comes out is a resigned: “What?”

“You’re still mad at me.” Curly says, downtrodden. It makes Jimmy’s stomach roil uncomfortably.

Jimmy stamps down the feeling. He shrugs, attempting nonchalance. “I’m not. What’s there to be mad about?”

“Jimmy–”

“Don’t you have your own cushy bed to get to instead of standing here and lecturing me on what I can and cannot do? You’re not my father, you don’t get to judge me. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

He turns away and opens his door.

“Go away Curls, I don’t want to see you right now.”

Without listening to Curly’s response, Jimmy walks in and slams the door shut in the captain’s face. For a split second, he feels bad. Maybe he’s overreacting. But the thought subsides the more he sits on it. Jimmy doesn’t owe Curly anything, much less an explanation on why he’s being moody. It’s not like it’s out of the norm for him to be difficult.

He sits down on his bed and tries to fluff up his pillow. It’s flat as anything. The filling has long since deflated, shrivelled up after a few washes. He plops down on his back unceremoniously.

Jimmy closes his eyes. His heart is still beating so loudly in his ears. He can still remember how close he and Grant had gotten, how their lips nearly touched. Grant’s hand is warm, so warm on his skin compared to the chill of the spaceship. Steady, guiding.

Curly’s hands.

Jimmy turns on his belly and smashes his face into the pillow. He wonders if anyone can hear if he screams into it. Probably not. If there’s anything Pony Express did right, it’s having decent soundproof walls.

*Crackle*

Jimmy scrunches his face at the odd sound. This damn ship can’t be breaking down already.

*Crackle* “Jim–” *crackle* “–me?”

He sits up on his knees, then grabs his pillow and holds it up.

“Testing, testing. Can you hear me, Jimmy?”

“What the fuck?” Jimmy mouths out. He has completely forgotten about the communicator Curly gave him this morning. He weighs his options between replying and letting Curly talk to himself for the rest of the night.

‘Curly will probably try to talk for the entire night.’ Jimmy rolls his eyes. ‘Might as well see what he wants to say.’

He weighs the device in his hand, only now properly examining it. It’s a standard communicator, a two-way transmitter. But this one is more advanced than the cheap toys he and Curly used to mess around with. This one doesn’t use the PTT system, instead allowing for continuous transmission like a regular phone, a good thing to carry around clipped to your chest pocket without having to burden your hands.

“Jimmy…” Curly sighs out. It sounds too resigned for his taste.

Jimmy presses the button to start speaking. He sighs loudly to let Curly know of his presence before he speaks.

“What is it, dumbass? I thought I told you I don’t wanna see you.”

The line picks up after a short moment. “Well, technically, you’re not looking at me right now. I’m complying with your wish.”

‘That rule-bending bastard.’ Jimmy snorts out loud. This is the Curly he knows.

“Alright. Point for effort. Whatdaya want?”

Another silence.

“I just want to talk to you.”

Fuck. Curly is so sappy.

But Jimmy doesn’t hate it. It’s endearing, more than ever now that they’re older. Jimmy can only hope it’s not about work. They’ve been talking too much about their work every day, already.

“Talk about what? It’s past midnight.”

“Dunno. You don’t seem to be sleeping. God knows I’m not.”

“Maybe I’m trying to sleep. You thought about that?”

“Talk to me until you do, then, like we used to.” Curly chuckles softly. The words take Jimmy back to the times they were close, when the two of them were younger and life hadn’t beaten them down just yet.

During the sleepovers that they have, Jimmy would often find himself nodding off to the sound of Curly's voice talking about anything and everything. Sometimes it’s about some interesting new animal Curly just found out about, other times it’s about the stars and constellations, space and how fascinating he finds it to be that humans can reach for the sky when once upon a time they still believed the Earth was flat.

They used to talk all the time. And now…

Jimmy tries to purge himself of his morose thinking. He settles back down on his bed, pulling the cover over himself and keeping the comm close.

“Well, alright then. Shoot.”

There’s a low laugh on the other side of the line. Fond. Affectionate. It warms him hearing that sound.

“You remember the cheap walkie-talkies we used to have during middle school?”

“Yeah?”

There was a phase Curly went through when they were younger. Curly’s parents had sent him to a scout summer camp, and when Curly came back, it was all he could talk about. The walkie-talkies were also something he introduced Jimmy to, eager to get him into the same hobby. Alas, Jimmy never took to it. The outdoors have never appealed to him, and hobbies just weren’t something he could afford at the time. He still can’t afford one, now, even as an adult.

“We used to use those things to set up sleepovers, remember? We could have used a phone, but…ah…” He trails off awkwardly. Jimmy knows why he did.

They couldn’t have used phones to communicate back then. That’s because while Curly had one, Jimmy didn’t. He didn’t get one until Curly gave one to him as a birthday gift during his second year in high school, bought with Curly’s own part-time money. Jimmy had a part-time job, too, during his school year, but he spent them all on food and school supplies instead. He liked that phone. Shame it got broken after his dad smashed it into the wall during one of his episodes.

“Phones are so mainstream, man. You wanna be cool, you gotta be niche. Daisuke told me.”

“Daisuke? You talk to him a lot?”

“Hard not to when the kid keeps yapping in my ears. It doesn’t bother me or anything, I just need more than 5 hours of sleep to have enough energy to keep up with him.”

Jimmy continues without letting Curly speak.

“You’re with me most of the time, now, though. And you’re just the right amount for me to handle.”

Another silence. But there’s also the sound of Curly breathing softly. Jimmy waits for him to speak.

“...yeah?” It may be Jimmy’s sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him, but Curly’s voice is lower than before. “You can handle me?”

Jimmy blinks. That question sounds loaded, for some reason. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like you’ve been talking my ears off ever since we started working together.”

Curly lets out a small huff. “That’s true. I got a lot less talkative as I got older. Guess I do take after my mom in some aspects and not just my dad’s.”

Jimmy only saw Curly’s dad a couple of times, but he knows the two of them look uncanny in their likeness. Curly has grown taller and broader than his father now, but he remembers them having the same hair, same eyes, even the cleft chin. He can’t remember much of Curly’s mom, other than that she also has blond hair and a kind smile. He hasn’t seen her too many times after the two of them left for college, and he stopped entirely after he dropped out. He had feared he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye if she ever knew about it.

“I liked your mom. Wait, no. That sounds wrong.” Curly laughs on the other end. Jimmy reiterates. “I liked the pies she baked every time I came over.”

“She’s nice.” Way nicer than his. Well, nice from what little he knew about her, anyway.

His mother, the woman he never got to properly embrace, whose icy countenance he tried to soften with good grades and good behaviours. Yet, all of his efforts were for naught. Jimmy returned home from school one day, hands clutching a test paper with perfect marking to see her things gone and her nowhere to be found. He waited and waited. He kept his hopes up even when his father snarled at him to forget about her. He stopped when the drinking and the beatings started, too fretful and busy with navigating his father’s outbursts to humour himself with thoughts of her ever returning.

Would she have stayed if Jimmy were a better son, an easier child? Would she have stayed if she knew about the things that happened when Jimmy was left alone with his father? Would she have cared?

Jimmy closes his eyes and tries to recall her face. He can’t remember her exact features, but he knows he looks like her, at least he did when he was young. His father told him this once, drunk.

It was during middle school, just a few hours before the time he and Curly had another one of their sleepovers. He used to sneak out when his father was already asleep, then climb into Curly’s room through the window. Curly’s parents usually found them in the morning, snuggled up with one another. Oddly enough, they never berated him for essentially breaking into their house in the middle of the night.

That night, though, that night was different. That night, he knocked on the front door.

Jimmy remembers it so vividly still.

———

His bedroom door opened. A figure stood, staring at him.

The clock showed 12:47 a.m. Jimmy had been counting the seconds until he could leave his house. Unfortunately for him, his old man took a longer time to head to bed than usual that night.

Jimmy closed his eyes and lay still as the figure moved closer, pretending to be asleep. He prayed he would be spared tonight. He wanted to see Curly without having to make up an excuse for the bruises littering his body.

Footsteps.

The figure climbed onto his bed, casting over him a dark, oppressive shadow. Jimmy controlled his breathing, like he had always done. His old man reeked of booze, but the smell had long since become a normal thing for him. This wasn’t something new.

“Wake up, boy.” The man’s slurred voice barked at him. Jimmy remained unmoving. He tried to regulate his breathing.

“I know yer fucking awake. Don’t f–fuckin’ lie to me.”

His thin covers were ripped away, leaving him to the mercy of the cold air. Jimmy dropped his pretences.

“D–dad?”

“S–shut the fuck up. Too fucking loud.” He squirmed when hands grabbed at him, groping at his chest. “Flat as a damn board… coulda at least look like that bitch… lying fuckin’ whore…”

“I’m–I’m a man! I don’t have chests.” Jimmy protested. The old man would pass out at any moment now. Nothing would happen. Nothing had happened. Jimmy just needed to push through another night.

“Men don’t act like you do, p–prancing around like a fag–” He hiccuped. “–making me raise a f–fuckin pansy.”

Jimmy tried to argue, but before he could, his neck was squeezed between callous fingers. They held him down as he thrashed and choked. Small fingers tried to pry open meaty ones.

“Maybe n–not the body, but you have a pretty fucking face.” The man sneered. “Like that bitch of a mother of yours.”

His father’s eyes burned with hatred. Eyes they shared.

“You wanna be a man?” A fist raised. “Men shouldn’t have the face of a bitch.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide with fear. He opened his mouth to scream, knowing help would not come.

Then, pain exploded across his face.

He tasted blood.

———

“Still there, Jimmy?”

He opens his eyes with a jolt. His hand instinctively draws up to brush against his lips where the scar lies.

“Jimmy?”

“Y–yeah! Yeah, I’m still here,” Jimmy hurries to say. “Just thinking about those times… good times.”

‘Crap. What has Curly been talking about?’ Jimmy thinks as he waits for Curly to speak, hoping to get some clues.

“Time with the pumpkin pies my mom made?”

Food. Jimmy can talk about that.

“Mmh, and the apple pies, the peanut butter cookies, the brownies that one time were amazing, too… Fucking stop. It’s making me hungry.”

Gosh, he remembers now. That woman was a godsend. The goddess of baked goods. Jimmy couldn’t understand back then why Curly and his dad hadn't both turned rotund with her sweet treats. Of course, he knows now that it’s because they both have boring taste buds.

“You’ve always been the highlight of her day whenever you come over. Only you appreciated her desserts to the fullest.”

Curly chuckles, the low sound scratchy as it travels.

“You and your sweet tooth, Jimmy.”

Jimmy feels his face heat up. He can’t deny it, not with the secret stash he has stored with the cigarettes he smuggled on board. Daisuke can never know about it, else Jimmy might find himself at the receiving end of the kid’s begging eyes.

“Better than you with your wacky taste buds! And don’t deny it. I can still remember that cake we made for you. I don’t know how you could eat it.”

The protein cake for Curly’s birthday was a monstrosity. He can’t remember the exact person who suggested it, but he knows Curly had liked it enough to take most of it home after the party. Made with whey protein powder and a negligible amount of sugar, it made the cake-eating experience an interesting one, to say the least. Even the fact that the powder was chocolate and caramel flavoured wasn’t enough to save the damn thing.

“Aw, hey, I liked it. Just the perfect amount of sweetness.”

“That shit tasted like chalk. And you don’t like anything sweet, Curly.”

“Now that’s not true. We all need a bit of sugar to make it through life.” Curly pauses. When he speaks again, the sound is low, husky.

“And you’re wrong, I do like sweet things. I like you.”

Jimmy blanches.

‘I like sweet things. I like you.’

Curly’s rumbling timbre sends pleasant shivers down his spine, making him squirm underneath his cover. The words bounce inside his skull, making him blush. It almost sounds like Curly is flirting.

“I’m not sweet,” Jimmy tells him, but his voice is a mumbled, flustered thing. He desperately hopes Curly can’t hear how worked up he is with just those simple words. “And that’s gay.”

Curly laughs again. He’s been doing it more around Jimmy lately.

Jimmy likes it. He likes the way Curly laughs. Curly laughs with him, but never at him. Unlike everyone else.

“All of this is so corny… Why are we even speaking through this thing? We’re just a few steps away from each other.”

“Come on. Where’s your sense of whimsy? Besides, you won’t be able to hit me if I say something you don’t like through this.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He smiles to himself. Curly is such a silly bastard.

“And yet you’re here, still.”

“I guess so.”

Jimmy yawns. He can feel the day’s fatigue catching up to him. Not to mention the way Curly’s soothing timbre is lulling him to sleep.

“…hey,” Curly’s voice is getting further away.

Jimmy hums, the sound getting higher at the end note. A prompt to go ahead. He pulls the device closer to his face, hand clasping over it as his body curls up under the sheets.

This is comfy. It’s warm.

It’s almost like Curly is lying next to him.

“I missed you, Jimmy. For all those years. I’ve always missed you.” Curly says softly.

Jimmy blinks slowly. His eyes are drooping.

“Me too. I missed you, too.” His finger traces over the buttons. He moves closer as his voice drops to a whisper. “I was so…”

Alone.

The years when Curly left for work for months at a time were the longest and coldest times of his life. He kept losing his jobs. His father died. And despite having cut the man out of his life, Jimmy had felt grief when he received the call from the hospital as his father’s only next of kin contact. He started drinking, then getting into fights. Jimmy was spiralling out of control. He was becoming his father.

Then Curly came back. And Jimmy was so ashamed of himself whenever he looked at the shiny figure of his friend.

Captain.

Curly became a Captain. And here he was still, broken and worthless. He could never catch up, can never catch up, not with how low he’d started out and kept sinking lower. It was only a matter of time before he would be left behind.

‘Alone. You’ll die alone.’ An old, derisive voice had told Jimmy as he was packing his bags and preparing to make it the last time he ever laid eyes upon its owner.

‘Just like the man whom you hate. Just like the man who raised you and broke you.’ Another voice spoke to him in his head. His own.

Then Curly had reached out to him when Jimmy was at his lowest. “A vacant position,” he had said. “A place next to me.”

Jimmy just needed to prove himself capable.

So he did. He didn’t have any savings for a personal therapist or psychologist, but information is everywhere online and he can read as well as anybody. He just needed to stop with the bars and booze, focus on getting a pilot license, then fake it until he makes it.

Jimmy made it. It wasn’t anything as fancy as Curly’s aviation degree, simply the lowest minimum requirement to apply for the job. And yet, Curly had smiled at him so widely.

Proud.

Jimmy’s entire body was tingling with pleasure that day he showed Curly his license.

He thought then that it would be better when they started working together, that Curly would show him the same warmth he used to even when they became colleagues. He thought he wouldn’t be treated just like any other subordinate of Curly’s.

He was wrong. And he was also right.

There was no familiar closeness to be found, but Curly also didn’t treat him like any crew member, either.

Curly kept him at arm’s length. He was cordial, professional. There’s no camaraderie between them like what Curly had with the colleagues he already knew and trusted. The air between them was frigid.

Cold. Cold. Cold.

Cold like the season Curly likes the most.

Cold like the faraway stars Curly taught him about.

Cold like his ice blue eyes.

But now, he’s warm again. Warm like the golden halo of his sun-kissed hair.

“… it doesn’t matter.” Jimmy sighs. “What matters is that we’re here, now.”

‘What matters is that you are here with me, now.’

“Jimmy, about…”

“I know.” Jimmy cuts in. “I know you’re worried. You’ve always been a motherhen.”

The line is silent. So he continues.

“You know I’m a moody bastard. It’s just that…” Jimmy breathes through his nose as his voice starts to break. He’s getting sentimental. “I just wish you’d trust me a little more.”

Love me a little more. Love me enough to stay with me, to not leave me behind.

“I do, Jimmy. I do.”

“Mmn, I’ll take your word for it.” Jimmy snuggles into his pillow, flat and sad as it is. “But you know you’ve always been better at lying than me.”

The two of them had never gotten caught smoking in Curly’s room when they first started in high school, not with how quickly Curly can make up an excuse while looking completely innocent. It also doesn’t help his case that he’s so good at poker, the lucky bastard.

“…”

No answer.

Perhaps Curly has fallen asleep.

Maybe Jimmy should, too.

“Well. Okay…” Jimmy mumbles. His eyelids start to droop. He feels so heavy. “Night, Curls.”

He lets out a long sigh, letting his stiff muscles go lax. The last thing he remembers is wishing for an uninterrupted rest, not plagued by nightmares.

In his dreams, he hears Curly’s voice.

“Night, Jimmy.”

He dares to hope that it’ll keep him safe from the turmoil in his head.

He dreams, and knows it’s a dream, because in his dream, Curly’s voice also tells him:

“I love you.”

“Night, Jimmy.”

Curly sighs as the line goes silent. He listens to Jimmy’s soft breathing as the man falls asleep. He hesitates, but ultimately decides to turn the device off and put it down on his side table.

Lying back, he tosses and turns in his bed. He can’t get it out of his head. Jimmy’s voice was so melancholy, so forlorn as he admits to missing Curly those years past. He has sounded so resigned, so downcast as he confided in Curly his wants and worries.

Jimmy never says anything like that out loud, not even when he was at his lowest right after his father’s death. He kept silent, unwilling to show weakness as he struggled back on Earth while Curly’s been busying himself with the company.

There’s insecurity in that voice. It’s the age-old desperate need to be recognised and approved that Curly has always taken notice of even when they were children. Jimmy’s desire to be liked and valued follows him into his adulthood.

It pains him to see Jimmy get brushed aside, either by the people the two of them hang around with, by their teachers when they were at school, or by Jimmy’s own father the few times Curly met him. If only they could see the brilliance Curly sees when he looks at Jimmy, see the resilience Jimmy possesses. If only they knew how witty, how funny, and how kind Jimmy can be if people managed to get close enough to peel back the thorny, tough layers that Jimmy has constructed around himself.

But getting to see that means getting close, and getting close means being interested. It means getting the chance to take Jimmy away, steal his attention.

Just like what Grant has been doing.

The very thought makes Curly clench his teeth in seething anger.

Jimmy has come back to his room with the scent of cigarettes clinging to him. It’s not enough that the average person passing by can smell it, but Curly can pick up the scent as easy as anything. His nose has always been keen.

Cigarettes aren’t supposed to be present on a spacecraft as old and decrepit as the Tulpar. It’s not up to code, not within the purview of their safety standards. Curly won’t rat his friend out, but he wonders why Jimmy doesn’t just stay in his room to smoke if that’s what he was doing before Curly found him. Is that not easier to hide than doing it out in the open?

Something’s not adding up. Jimmy had come back from the direction of the lounge, where Grant stays. He tried to hide then, but Curly saw the blush of Jimmy’s skin and the pout of his lips, indicators of his fluster.

He met up with Grant. Curly knows he did. He just doesn’t know why.

Curly sits up. He looks at the digital clock next to his bedside table. 3 a.m. Work starts in 3 hours. He knows he won’t be able to sleep, anyhow.

Rubbing a hand down his face, he stands and rolls his neck. He lumbers to his closet and pulls on another of his tee over his undershirt, keeping his sweatpants on. He heads out of his room the second time in a matter of a few hours when everyone has gone to bed and turns towards the direction of the lounge.

He arrives. The light of the night screen illuminates the figure on the couch.

The smell of cigarettes is wafting through the air.

Curly stands in the hollow of the living room, the moonlight of the big screen casting a shadow over his face and illuminating his back.

Grant looks up at him and smirks.

Curly feels the knuckles of his hand throb in what feels like restlessness. He itches to curl his fists up and swing.

“What’s up, Captain? Fancy a late-night stroll?”

There’s no cigarette to be found on Grant’s person, but the smell is a good enough indicator. Curly sniffs, just to be sure. A deep inhale.

Earthy, spicy, with a hint of sweetness. He doubts Jimmy realises it, but Jimmy’s preferred choice of cigarettes always has a sweet undertone.

Curly has the scent memorised.

“Jimmy’s been here.” He says and watches as Grant’s face convulses. “He gave you something you shouldn’t have.”

‘Something Jimmy shouldn’t have.’

But Curly won’t blame Jimmy for something so inconsequential. Jimmy isn’t the one who lit the fire. He isn’t the one who has smoke coiling in his lungs.

Grant snorts, sounding weirded out. Curly couldn’t care less about what he thinks.

“What are you, a damn bloodhound?” He turns his head, cracking his neck and stands. He puts his hands into his pants pockets. “So what if he’s been here? Pretty kitty likes to keep me company.”

Curly says nothing, but his body brims with unreleased tension.

That confirms it. Jimmy has been here. Middle of the night. Jimmy and Grant. Grant and Jimmy. Just the two of them.

There’s no telling what they got up to during that time, no way of knowing what Grant could have subjected Jimmy to without Curly to watch over him, not without asking outright.

“I struggle to think Jimmy would ever want to be anywhere near you out of his own volition.”

He steps forward nearer to Grant. His eyes feel like they’re burning as he glares.

“I don’t think I’ve made myself clear enough for you, seeing how you’re still not backing down, but stay away from him.”

“Or what?” Grant also stands up straighter. “What will you do if I don’t?”

Curly works his jaws. He has several things he wants to do, things that end with him returning to being the only living Curly in this part of the universe. Things that end with him being the only Curly that Jimmy will ever look at once more.

‘There’s a gun in the locker.’

His thoughts run wild, then silent. He breathes.

A calm washes over him.

The crew doesn’t deserve his outburst. They depend on him. His responsibility. Jimmy is his responsibility, whether he knows it or not.

‘Mine. He’s mine.’ The words hang on the tip of his tongue. He swallows them down.

Grant is but a glitch in the universe, brought to them by rotten luck. He’ll disappear, whether Curly has a hand in it or not. Curly’d rather keep his hands clean, so that he may hold Jimmy with them without marring him with filth.

“I can see you spiralling.” Grant’s voice cuts through his violent thoughts. “You’re quite the actor. Have you ever thought of a career change? It might fit you better.”

“It might.” With the latest news from Pony Express, that looks to be in the near future.

Grant narrows his eyes. For a long moment, they stand, sizing up one another. Until Grant breaks the heavy silence.

“Been looking at me for quite a while.” Grant chuckles. “Seems like you two do have something in common.”

Curly twists his lips. The asshole is blabbering nonsense again.

“Jimmy quite likes looking at my body, too. Especially at night.”

“What?” Curly can’t help his surprise.

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? I thought the Captain gets told everything on this ship.” Grant sneers, latching onto the reaction with unconcealed glee, spiteful. “Pretty little kitty has been purring in my lap every night. In fact, he was doing that just a few hours ago.”

Grant steps nearer until they’re face-to-face. Curly fights to not react to his proximity.

“They’re softer than they look.” Grant lowers his voice conspiringly. “Those pouty lips.”

Curly grits his teeth.

“Enough to make me wonder how they would feel wrapped around my cock.”

“You dare–!” His hands fisted into Grant’s shirt, bunching the fabric up. They’re shaking. It’s rage, spilling over.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you never thought about it?” Grant laughs, utterly unbothered. “That wet, hot mouth, those bitten red, puffy lips. I think he’ll look beautiful kneeling at my feet.”

Curly is breathing harshly. He’s breathing way too fast. The images are flying through his mind like a whirlwind. Anger and lust combine into a heavy, intoxicated mix.

He thinks about it. Of course he thinks about it.

‘Jimmy.’ The voice in his head calls. ‘Jimmy.’ He can’t stop the familiar images appearing in his head.

Scarred lips are stretching around his throbbing, hard cock. Jimmy chokes, coughs, cries as he tries to take and take but isn’t able. Curly would help him. Help steady Jimmy’s head and loosen his throat as his cock slides down, down, down.

Jimmy would claw at him, like a wild cat caught between the hands of a cruel master, just to deflate, knowing he is overpowered, helpless against Curly’s strength. Jimmy would let himself go, let himself enjoy the feeling of being used, the feeling of being owned.

He’d enjoy being Curly’s.

Curly bites his tongue, letting the taste of copper fill his mouth. The images become dull, but remain in the back of his mind.

He never stops. He never stops thinking about it.

About Jimmy.

And Grant is saying he wants the same. That he wants what Curly has deemed untouchable for a better part of two decades past. Grant talks about Jimmy like he’s a fancy one can just hit and quit. A novelty. A toy.

It’s unacceptable.

“Don’t talk about him that way.” Grant doesn’t have the rights.

Grant scoffs. “There’s a pretty stray wandering around with no collar on him. Can you blame me for trying to take him home?”

“He’s not a pet, and he doesn’t belong to you.”

Grant grips his wrists, squeezing. Curly responses by twisting harder into the fabric, pulling the man closer, trying to shake him up.

“And neither is he yours. Don’t be salty just because you don’t have what it takes to actually do what needs to be done.” Grant glares back. It’s a step away from the self-satisfied smugness he usually displays. This time, he looks to be more annoyed than how he often portrays himself to be.

Grant looks too bothered for this to still be just a passing, temporary thing.

“You’re the version of me I hope I never become.” Grant’s voice is a dark, bitter thing. “Discontent, but too afraid of change to do anything about it.”

Curly only breathes out tremulously.

’Discontent.’

This job.

His dreams.

His relationship with Jimmy.

He stays with this company, sticks with it even when manned freighters started going out of commission. He keeps the routine, perhaps out of some misplaced sense of duty or loyalty like a blind dog, and keeps doing their bidding even when he knows his master is a soulless cog in the capitalistic machine.

He is afraid of letting Jimmy know of his feelings, and so he lets life and work consume him as Jimmy drifts further away.

He is afraid of change, and so he watched as everything deteriorated.

“Poor lost, lonely kitten. So desperate to be seen and never getting it. You neglected your old toy, so why can’t I pick him off the shelf for some fun? He deserves to be played with, don’t you think?”

“You talk a lot.”

“And I only speak the truth.” Grant retorts without skipping a beat. “You don’t have what it takes to keep him.”

Curly sneers. There’s no point arguing with this kind of hardheadedness, this kind of open disrespect for someone’s autonomy. Jimmy is his own person, not a pet, or a toy.

“You’re still not convinced. Then let me make it easier for you.”

Grant releases his wrists and instead mirrors Curly. He fists his hands into Curly’s shirt, arms straining, jaws working.

This blatant aggression is a new development.

Grant’s temper is also rearing its head. His control is slipping. He doesn’t look all that smug and detached anymore.

“Let’s settle this, then, mano a mano. Win and I’ll stop this game. I’ll let you keep him.” Grant jeers. “If you want him so bad, do it and see if the kitty will crawl into your lap. Or are you content to let him stay in mine?”

A game? It’s no longer a game. Grant is too worked up for it to simply be one. There’s something else on the line. And Grant doesn’t even seem to know it himself.

Grant is no better than Curly. He has no grounds to lecture Curly about his life and relationship.

Curly looks at Grant and his snarling face. Is that how Curly looks? Is that what he will look like when he loses control? When jealousy starts to make him choke?

How ugly. How pitiable. A man who acts like he has everything in order but actually struggles to maintain decorum.

A mirror.

Curly and Grant.

A two-way street.

’He’s no better than I.’

Curly barks out a laugh, sudden and sharp. Grant startles, recoils. The man steps back with his eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown.

At the look on Grant’s face, Curly only laughs harder. Howling. Manic. This revelation isn’t as funny as he has made it out to be in his head, but Curly just can’t stop himself. He releases Grant and steps back.

“Aah… Keep up that front all you want, you’re just as desperate and lost.” Curly pulls his palm over his mouth in an effort to stifle the sound somewhat. He knows he looks a bit insane. It’s not the kind of behaviour he usually shows people, especially those he holds in high regard.

“You’ve gone and fallen into the same hole I’m in.” He tries to control his outburst. It’s late, after all, and his crew deserves their rest. “All that talk about playing and games, and look at where it got you.”

“What the fuck are you laughing about? Have you gone–”

“Mad?” Curly chuckles. “Not as mad as the man who falls for a kitten he knows he’ll have to leave behind in the pound.” If Grant insists on calling Jimmy his kitten, Curly will gladly humour him regarding his choice of words.

Grant sucks in a breath.

Bullseye.

“I’m not–,”

“Look who’s the clueless one now? Don’t tell me you don’t see how you’re acting.” Curly coughs a bit as he clears his throat.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re too busy pretending to be in control when you’re actually the one who’s spinning out of it.”

Curly smile at him in pity.

“You. You’re acting like me.” He sighs. Both of them are in a downward spiral. Straight down the fucking toilet.

Curly can see the signs, the minute expression of possessiveness, the resentment borne from jealousy. He can see them because he looks for them in his own actions, so that he can stop himself, rein himself in. Curly knows himself. And Grant is just another him, unrestrained.

If Grant calls Curly a mutt with the intent of it being an insult, then the only thing worse than a mutt like him is an untrained dog.

Grant has fallen silent. His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes shifty like he’s just realised something about himself. Curly can’t blame him. It’s difficult to keep track of yourself when all of your attention is on another person.

“I– that can’t–,”

“Can it? Jimmy can be so compelling even when he doesn’t mean to be.” Curly sighs. “So, so compelling.”

Curly knows Grant can see it as well as he does. Compelling is the way Jimmy bites at his lips when he gets stuck in his own head, the way he averts his eyes and flushes crimson when he’s teased or complimented. It’s the way he looks soft and pleased when Curly gives him attention and the time of day, even as he tries his best to not let it show.

It’s the way he carelessly offers up what few comforts they have to someone who has been nothing but a nuisance to him, the way he leaves himself open for an attack, being alone with someone who has obvious ill intentions.

“No,” Grant grits out. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“No?” It’s Curly’s turn to smile smugly. This is fun. He gets why Grant gets such a kick out of making Curly fumble now. This is goddamn hilarious.

Curly is learning so much about himself today.

Grant only grits his teeth. He looks to be consumed in his own thoughts.

It reminds Curly of himself, when he first realised the extent of his affection for Jimmy, how it has gone from platonic affection to familial fondness, then plunged straight into deep infatuation and uncontrollable desire during their early adulthood. He had questioned himself then, too, about his sexuality, about how he could try to hide this from Jimmy.

He got girlfriends, he started hanging out less with Jimmy and started applying for longer hauls and more shifts. He kept himself in check. And Jimmy was none the wiser.

Then Grant has to come along and fuck everything up.

The man is still speechless. No reply comes forth, but his eyes are agitated.

Curly clicks his tongue. He’s annoyed just by reminding himself of Grant’s sudden appearance.

“Seems to me you’ve got some thinking to do.” He lets his lips curve into a sneering grin, all teeth. “Perhaps you should take the time to worry about yourself first, instead of harassing someone who doesn’t want your attention.”

Curly turns to walk away then pauses, body half turned towards Grant. The man is still just standing there, frozen in silence.

“Letting you stay is already a courtesy, so I suggest you don’t squander this hospitality we have shown you.”

The hospitality Jimmy has shown Grant.

He then continues on his way out of the lounge, muttering under his breath. “I’d loathe to do any more than what I already do for work.”

‘It would be impossible to hide a dead body on an enclosed spaceship anyway.’ He thinks, but doesn’t say.

And Curly. Curly just can’t be bothered.