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mokuyoubiΔ
When Ryan locked up the storefront for the evening, Jon was waiting outside, leaning on the railing around the Promenade. “Hey. Brendon’s getting Spencer. We’re supposed to meet at the Celestial Café.”
Ryan looked wary. “I have a lot of work to do.” Jon nodded, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Yes, there’s a festival next week, and I have to finish up an article for my next news broadcast.”
“I spoke to Spencer on his lunch break,” Jon said. “He warned me you’d try this. You have to eat anyway; might as well be with us.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed, but he said, “I didn’t say no.”
“Yeah, well, just to be sure,” Jon said, and before Ryan could make a move to stop him, he stole the pile of pads in Ryan’s hand. Ryan made a sound of protest, an adorable expression of disbelief on his face.
“You’ll get them back after dinner,” Jon promised. Ryan opened his mouth to protest and Jon tapped his finger to Ryan’s lips. “Don’t bother arguing. I’ll carry you, if I have to.”
Ryan crossed his now empty arms over his chest. “You’re way shorter than I am.”
“Yeah, but you’re like, two pounds.” He smirked and Ryan sighed, dropped his arms, and walked with him toward the lift.
Spencer and Brendon had already snagged a nice booth in the back corner of the café and they were sitting remarkably close to one another. Brendon was whispering something in Spencer’s ear, even though there was no one near enough to hear them, and Spencer had a small, secret smile on his lips. Jon thought they looked really nice together.
“Do we get to know secrets?” he asked, as he and Ryan slipped into the booth.
“Later,” Brendon said, and fluttered his lashes in what he probably thought was a seductive way. It was actually more humorous, but Jon still thought he was pretty cute.
“So, what’s good here?” Jon asked, looking at the foreign symbols on the menu. Few restaurants in the universe printed their menus in his language. In fact, few places anywhere in the universe used his language. Luckily the universal translators pretty much took care of that, but just in case he’d learned Earth basic and Vulcan. He’d also picked up a fair amount of Andorian, Bolian and Klingon throughout his travels, but he’d only ever met Bajorans briefly.
“You going to trust us to tell you what to order?” Spencer asked teasingly.
“I put myself in your hands,” Jon teased back.
Spencer went easy on him. Jon wasn’t exactly sure what it was that Spencer ordered, but it looked good and tasted even better. Bajoran cuisine was as good as Brendon had insisted it would be.
Ryan lightened up after he’d had a warm cup of tea and once his food arrived. He’d even engaged Brendon in a conversation about the differences between the opera of Earth and Qo’noS. Brendon insisted that the Klingon was not melodic enough, and Ryan argued that a lot of Earth’s operas were in German, which was a fairly unmelodic language.
Jon didn’t know much about either of them, but watching them was amusing enough, as was watching Spencer, who kept trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. Spencer’s smile was the secret to the universe, or something. Jon figured that even if he hadn’t planned on staying DS9 very long, Spencer’s smile could have convinced him otherwise. Or Brendon’s dorky laughter. Or the way Ryan kind of leaned into Jon’s side while focusing all his attention on his argument with Brendon.
“I think my position of best friend might be usurped,” Spencer told him out of the corner of his mouth. Jon arched a brow. “I’m not that big on Klingon opera. Or Human opera, for that matter, and he’s always looking for someone to talk about it with him.” Jon didn’t think Ryan was looking for a new best friend in Brendon, but then again, Ryan and Spencer didn’t strike him as ‘just friends’, so he didn’t mention as much out loud.
Dinner hour had come and the restaurant was filling up. The waiter kept shooting pointed looks at their empty plates, as if to suggest they move on. Jon was just about to suggest they head to Quark’s or back to one of their rooms when he heard his name.
“Jon! Johnny Walker, I was afraid we’d lost you!” William threw his arms around Jon’s shoulders. “You weren’t trying to run away, were you?”
“William, I told you I was going to be staying on DS9,” Jon said. He smiled a fond, exasperated smile.
William rolled his eyes. “That was before you saw it,” he said, with a vague wave of his hand. “I understand if you’ve changed your mind. You don’t have to be embarrassed; you don’t even have to admit you were wrong.”
“I wasn’t wrong,” Jon said easily.
“Beautiful, so come on, party in the holosuite,” William said. His arms moved from Jon’s shoulders to wrap around his arm and he tugged. Jon let himself be jerked around, but not out of the booth.
William looked at Ryan, Spencer and Brendon with a searching expression. “You can all come, too.”
“Really?” Brendon said.
“They do have amazing parties,” Jon said sidelong to Brendon.
“Who are they?” Spencer asked. He was looking at William curiously.
“Oh, my old crew,” Jon explained dismissively.
Spencer’s eyes widened. “The ones from that story about the grade school on Betelgeuse?”
William gave him a toothy grin. “The very ones,” he purred. “I see news of our exploits travels quickly. But did you hear the one about the head shop and the Deltan?”
Ryan leaned forward with interest and Brendon looked like he might die with anticipation. William wiggled his fingers in beckoning. “Come little children, I’ll tell you a tale.”
The party was in one of the sleazier holodecks above a Benzite bar. There were no Starfleet uniforms in the sea of bodies in the bar, Jon noted with approval. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Brendon he didn’t dislike Starfleet, but it was true that they totally killed a party.
Inside the holodeck, someone had programmed a scenario that looked rather like something out of the ridiculous Human movies Sisky and the Butcher were always watching. Jon still couldn’t figure that out. None of the crew of The Academy had ever been to Earth; in fact, according to William and Siska (and, okay, Jon wasn’t sure how much of what they said could be believed), none of the crew was even from this part of the galaxy.
“Yo, JWalk!” Chiz was weaving his way across the lawn full of drunken, passed out partygoers, his fists full of beers. Jon vaguely wondered how many of the people were real and how many were holograms. Either way, he wouldn’t be surprised.
Chiz passed out the beers to Brendon, Spencer and Ryan, who took them and looked at them like they didn’t know what to do with them. “It’s an Earth drink,” Jon explained. “Most people don’t drink it anymore, because it’s way stronger than synthesised stuff.”
Brendon shrugged, took a sip and made a face. William laughed and smacked him hard on the back, making Brendon choke. “Your friends are a hoot,” William commented, and wandered off towards the house calling, “Toooooo-neeeeee.”
“It grows on you,” Jon told Brendon sympathetically, and tried not to laugh at the way Spencer was holding the bottle at arm’s length like it might actually, literally start to grow.
The Butcher came streaking by on a scooter. “Pool in the back,” he called over his shoulder.
“Pool?” Brendon perked up visibly and even took another cautious sip of his beer. He didn’t choke this time, but he still looked repulsed. Ryan, taking his lead, took a sip and shrugged. Spencer did not look convinced.
“This is Michael Guy Chislett,” Jon said, slinging a companionable arm around Chiz. “But you can just call him Chiz or Chizzy, or Michael Guy. Come on inside and I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Brendon looked crest-fallen.
“And then we can go swimming,” he added. Brendon’s smile out-shone the moon.
E
So, Brendon had pretty much known Jon was awesome from the first time he met him, but this party sealed the deal. Well, first there was William. Brendon had never seen a Catullan other than in pictures and he was really quite stunning, his soft lavender hair falling around his shoulders, his dark eyes a nice contrast to his complexion. Plus he had stories that rivalled the hilarity of Jon’s, and certainly surpassed Jon’s in depravity.
Chislett and Carden were kind of quiet, but Brendon was too busy staring at Carden in fascination to actually hold a conversation with him, because, okay, he’d never even heard of the species Carden claimed to be. Both species Carden claimed to be—something about dying and being reanimated, which sounded like something out of a bad horror novel, except Carden didn’t seem like a zombie—he wasn’t gnawing on anyone or randomly demanding brains, and he seemed to speak pretty coherently when he did speak, so, yeah. He did have this really pale skin and these deep blue and purple spots along his cheekbones and around his forehead and up his neck.
Chislett said he was from a telepathic species known as the Mari, and Brendon knew better than to ask a telepath to prove their abilities. So even though Chislett didn’t look superficially different from a Human, Brendon didn’t argue it. It could totally be true.
Tony, who Brendon had assumed was the Captain until Jon set him straight, looked like a Vulcan at first glance, but he was a comedic genius, and when Brendon got a good look he noticed the ridges of Tony’s ears were more intricate than a Vulcan’s. He was the ship’s navigator and pilot, and, he explained with a mysterious look, the acting Captain when William was away. Brendon was burning with curiosity to ask why William went away, but then Jon dragged him along to meet the others.
Brendon hadn’t thought there could be anything cooler than Carden, and then he properly met the Butcher. He’d thought the Butcher was just shimmering earlier because of being wet and under the moonlight, but it turned out his skin was actually bronze and glittery, like some sort of precious metal. Every time he moved, the light caught his skin in new ways, making it sparkle. It was made even nicer by the fantastic collection of tattoos curling up his back, over his chest and down his arms.
His boyfriend, Siska, was equally cool, with a neat cranial ridge that was mostly hidden under the single section of long, curly hair on his otherwise close shorn head, that fell over his forehead. They were both really weird, but endlessly amusing.
Brendon was a science officer and so he was really intrigued by all these new species and even though he’d really wanted to go swimming, he ended up having a long conversation with most of the crew about their home planets and their physiologies and their cultures. William got bored of it pretty quickly and Carden wandered off and the Butcher mostly just watched Siska talk, but Siska and Chiz were happy to answer every question Brendon asked.
“If you think we’re strange, you should see the Cobra,” the Butcher said mysteriously.
Tony appeared out of nowhere and gave him a sharp look. “I know you didn’t just say what I think you just said.”
“Whatever, I’m not afraid of Cobra. I’m ready for it. Bring it,” the Butcher countered.
“What’s the Co—” Brendon started to ask, but Siska shivered.
“No, man, don’t say it, dude. The Butcher, he’s far braver than you or me, who dare not speak the name of the depraved one.”
“Oookay,” Brendon said, and then he got distracted when someone came by with a tray of delicious looking finger food and forgot about the Cobra altogether by the time his stomach was full.
He was too busy being amazed by everything around him. For instance, another thing, in addition to the variety of unfamiliar species, that was a major source of curiosity for Brendon was the fact that everyone’s names, with the possible exception of the Butcher (though Brendon was willing to bet that wasn’t his real name), were not only very Human, but seemed to be based in Earth Standard English. And they all seemed really well versed on all things Human—in some cases more so than Brendon.
Like, the house for one thing—it looked like something straight out of the movies his friends watched back home—the movies from before WWIII, when Humans had thought they were at the height of their potential and were toying with dangerous science and dangerous weapons, and how would anyone that wasn’t from Earth know about that stuff? Not everyone on Earth paid a lot of attention to it.
So the house, it was this amazing, sprawling two storey thing with a basement, extensive gardens and a pool bigger than Operations (which Brendon was going to swim in, seriously, once he finished talking to Siska and Chiz).
And then there was the music. Brendon wasn’t going to complain about the music, because he recognised a lot of it, and he loved it. It was from the same era on Earth as the house. It thumped loudly from speakers in every room and on the lawn; the bass a pleasant, dull beat in the background that made Brendon feel happily numb.
There was a pretty good mix going on—with older and newer music, too, and samplings from other planets, but it definitely kept coming back to the Earth stuff, which…Brendon’s friends had always shook their heads when Brendon played it, because some people on Earth liked classical music, and some people liked jazz, or opera, and things like that, but no one listened to the rock ‘n roll music of the late 20th century. Except, apparently, random aliens from the Gamma Quadrant.
Then there were the clothes. And, okay, maybe Brendon wasn’t one to judge, but he was from Earth. He was a Human. Yet somehow William had perfected the look of a rock star straight out of the late 1990s, in tight jeans and a tight printed tee and a scarf tied around his knee that he somehow pulled off, like, awesomely (but then, Brendon had just given in to the awesomeness of The Academy).
The Butcher was just wearing a little black Speedo, but written across the bottom in Roman letters was the word Santi. Brendon figured it might mean something in the Butcher’s native language, but when he’d asked, Siska had got this crazy smile like he was going to eat Brendon’s head and said, “You know, it’s Santi,” and laughed a maniacal laugh.
William had tried to explain to him in a slow, patient, maybe slightly condescending way the various uses of the word Santi, before Jon came by, rolled his eyes and said, “it’s the shortened version of a name in some Earth language. Mexican? I don’t know.”
Brendon sputtered a little bit at the hilarity of Jon suggesting that Mexican was a language before he realised, wait, Jon’s not from Earth. And then he was off on a whole different quest for knowledge, because how had he missed that? Years of living in San Francisco, the heart the United Federation of Planets, and his stint at Starfleet Academy had drilled into his head humanoid does not equal Human.
But everything about Jon had screamed Human, except, maybe, his weird thing about wearing Andorian sleepwear all the time, but who was Brendon to judge, running around in denim jeans originally designed for teenaged girls?
Now Brendon tried to follow Jon around the party to get a closer look without being obvious about it. His eyes were a soft brown, so that ruled out Betazoid, thank god. How embarrassing would it have been for Jon to hear all the inappropriate things Brendon had thought about him? Or Spencer. Or Ryan. Or him with Spencer or Ryan? He cast a nervous look around for the actual self-proclaimed telepath, but Chiz had wandered away now that Brendon’s questions had tapered off.
Brendon found Jon playing cards in a smoky room in the basement where the music was just a distant rumble. He seemed to be delighting in confusing Ryan and Spencer with the rules. “You’re not trying to pull Fizzbin over on them, are you?” Brendon teased.
Everyone in Starfleet loved swapping stories about Kirk’s crazy antics, and one of the favourites was Fizzbin. Many a times the dorms had seen late night attempts to recreate the game, with little success.
Jon just looked politely confused by it, which just drove home the point that there was no way Jon had grown up on Earth. That was like, probably in the top five famous stories about James Kirk.
Brendon took the seat beside him and pretended to be looking at his cards. Jon’s ears were shaped like a Human's; there were no ridges on his nose or on what of his forehead Brendon could see, and his hair was soft looking where it curled against his neck.
Ryan made a frustrated sound and threw down his cards in disgust. “I’m done. You said something about swimming, Brendon?”
Like that, Brendon forgot all about the mystery of Jon’s origins. Maybe he was a human who’d just been born on an outer planet, or something. Anyway, the prospect of getting Ryan in less clothing was one that was very okay with him.
Z
Jon had the holodeck conjure him up a pair of swimming trucks, but Brendon, who Spencer was quite certain had been born without propriety, manners, or shame, ripped off his shirt and kicked off his jeans until he was in a tiny pair of white underwear that left little to the imagination. Ryan had shrugged and nodded pointedly to the Butcher, who was back on his scooter on the patio.
Ryan didn’t seem to have any qualms about stripping down to his underwear, either, though his were far more respectable than Brendon’s. They were dark blue and resembling Jon’s trucks, only looser and in a thinner material.
Spencer figured people got enough of an idea what his body looked like in his uniform everyday, so he stayed on one of the lawn chairs, completely dressed. It took, like, maybe ten seconds before he was aching to join them. Ryan had tried to ease himself in but both Jon and Brendon had jumped in with these huge splashes that completely submerged Ryan.
Ryan came up sputtering, hair clinging to his cheek, curving around his top lip. He kept blinking, looking like he couldn’t believe it, and then after a moment of stillness began a vicious splash war.
Brendon and Jon originally teamed up against Ryan, but it eventually became a free for all and somehow Ryan ended up on Jon’s shoulders, which was ridiculous, because Jon was tiny, and there was something about the way Ryan’s legs looked draped casually over Jon’s legs, like they belonged there.
Then Brendon touched Ryan’s leg, hand smoothing up his calf and Ryan’s eyes got really big for a second before Brendon dug his thumb in Ryan’s knee—this ticklish spot, and no one knew that except Spencer. And there was flailing limbs and tumbling and another giant splash and when they all resurfaced Ryan was leaning on both of them and laughing this wonderful, open laugh that Spencer hadn’t seen in ages.
Suddenly, Spencer really wanted to get in the pool, and he didn’t care who saw him half dressed.
“Good thing you joined us willingly,” Jon said. He sidled up to the deep end of the pool where Spencer was sliding in against the wall, arms braced on the edge. He’d never swum in anything other than ponds and lakes before and this was warmer and cleaner, though there was a weird smell.
“Willingly?” Spencer asked. He looked at Jon warily.
Jon scratched his neck and gave Spencer a sheepish look. “Brendon and I were planning an ambush. It might have involved you entering the pool fully dressed.”
Spencer looked to the other end of the pool where Brendon and Ryan were playing some weird game that involved the phrase Marco Polo and Brendon staggering around with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. Ryan looked bewildered, but he still had this hesitant happy expression on his face and every time Brendon got close, Ryan swam neatly and silently away. Brendon looked a little hopeless.
“I’m not certain of the success,” Spencer said, tone wry.
Jon shook his head hard, like an animal trying to dry itself and for a second Spencer saw a curving edge of gold in the centre of Jon’s forehead before Jon was flattening his hair against it, hiding it. “Don’t let him fool you,” he warned. “He looks all sweet and innocent, but Starfleet knows how to train their people to be triumphant in combat.”
Spencer froze. He bit his lip and looked over at Ryan, who’d finally found himself in a corner. “He’s Starfleet?” he asked dully. Brendon caught Ryan, probably pulling him unnecessarily close, and Ryan squealed and fought against his grip, laughing all the while. This was so incredibly bad.
“I know, right?” Jon said. He was smiling, because he didn’t realise how incredibly bad this was. “I never would have guessed it myself.”
“You know what he does?” Spencer managed to keep his voice even and casual sounding. Maybe he was a doctor; that could be alright. Jon gave him a concerned look, though. Because Spencer could fool most people, but apparently after knowing Jon for roughly twenty-four hours, he couldn’t fool Jon. It made him feel distinctly uneasy. Almost as uneasy as knowing Brendon was Starfleet.
“There’s a problem?” Jon asked. He looked unimpressed, flicking his gaze from Spencer to Brendon and back again, before putting his hands on his hips. It should have looked ridiculous since he was neck deep in water, and Spencer just should have laughed and pushed him away and dealt with it later.
Only, Spencer found that he wanted to tell Jon. It was so weird, because he only really talked to his parents and Ryan, and occasionally to Brent, his fellow security officer. He was good with casual stuff, but opening up always felt weird. He wasn’t like Ryan, who felt like he was exposing himself. He felt like people didn’t want to know these things about him, so why bother them. Except he got the feeling Jon really wanted to know.
Spencer sighed. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with Starfleet.” He stopped and this was Jon he was talking to, who wanted to know. “That’s a lie. I do have a problem with Starfleet. I think that they’re a bunch of bureaucratic assholes, who talk about universal peace and the healing of wounds and shit like that, except they never do anything because they’ve got all these stupid rules and regulations that keep them from helping people when they should, and make them go to war when they shouldn’t, and…”
Jon didn’t say anything but he waded closer and gave Spencer a look that told him to continue. Spencer gave him a faint, melancholy smile. “But, I mean, I have some friends that are Starfleet. And I think Sisko, well, I think he thinks about Starfleet the same way I do sometimes and he’s really trying to help Bajor, you know? I think he might be this Emissary, and he’s just doing what he can.”
“But Ryan…” They both looked over his time, but they weren’t playing any more. Ryan was pressed between the ladder and the wall and Brendon was treading water even though it was only about four feet deep. They’d sunk down ‘til their lips were just barely above water and were both clinging to the rungs of the ladder, hands touching and they were whispering.
“Do you know much about Bajor?” Spencer asked.
Jon shrugged. “Invited the Cardassians in and they took over, turned the Bajorans into slaves, ravaged the planet, committed mass genocide. Bajorans did away with their caste system and formed a resistance. Asked Starfleet for help. Starfleet threw the Prime Directive in their face. Cardassians eventually gave up because Bajorans are a tenacious bunch.” Here he paused and gave Spencer an affectionate look that Spencer felt obliged to return with a fierce smile. “Then Bajor invited Starfleet back and this time Starfleet came, and if you think I don’t see where you’re going, you’re wrong. I’m not saying I agree with Starfleet, either.”
Spencer smiled when Jon’s voice, usually calm and relaxed, got a little hard and defensive at the end. “That’s not really where I was going. Well, that should be enough. For most of us, it is. If people aren’t happy with Starfleet they join the Maquis, move, or refuse assistance. Most are changing their minds, though, because of Sisko.
“Ryan’s family lived on Jeraddo, the fifth moon of Bajor. I met him when his mother was killed in a strike on the Cardassians. He and his father were brought to Terok Nor…that’s, this, I mean, Deep Space 9, only the Cardassians called it Terok Nor. We were too young to be put to work doing hard labour, like my parents. We were used as servants to the officials on the station until we turned twelve.
“Except, instead of sending us to the do the mining, or sending us to processing and refinement, they shipped us and my parents and sisters to this little colony on the fourth moon. It was poverty stricken and awful, but there weren’t any Cardassians and that was enough for us.” Spencer felt a lump rising in his throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off Ryan, afraid that Ryan might suddenly be able to hear him. But he knew Jon needed to hear this. Brendon would need to hear it, too. Hopefully soon, because when Ryan found out he was Starfleet…
“Ryan was so confused. Mom and dad knew something, but they wouldn’t tell us, so I knew it had to be awful, because my mom and dad would tell us anything. By then Ryan was like another son to them. Then, about a year before the Cardassians left, the colony was struck and we were put to work in the mines. My…” Spencer coughed and tried to fight the burning in his eyes. He rubbed his face so that Jon might mistake the tears on his face for pool water.
“My youngest sister was killed by one of the Cardassians. She was weak and hurt and they said they’d help her, but it turned out she was sick, and they didn’t want to waste medicine on her, so the doctor just killed her.”
Jon didn’t look horrified, and for that Spencer was grateful. He didn’t tell people about this often because he didn’t like the pity. Pity was useless. Lots of people had suffered far worse than Spencer—lost whole generations of their family, been sole survivors, like Ryan. But Jon’s eyes were sympathetic and he nodded for Spencer to go on.
“Then the war ended and the Cardassians left and my parents came here and started their shop. Ryan went home and found out the reason we’d been spared for so long was that his father was a Cardassian sympathiser, and the reason we’d suddenly been put back to work was because his father had died.
“And it was awful, but I thought he was going to get better, you know, because he’d hardly known his father and he hadn’t loved him, and it was awful, but the war was over and everything was quiet, and Ryan likes quiet. I went to stay with him and he just sort of relaxed, and seemed like he was at peace.
“Starfleet came and he just ignored it, because most of the stuff that was going on was happening on Bajor and here, and he hated Starfleet, but as long as he didn’t have to deal with them, as long as they left him alone, he was fine.
“Major Kira had been this awesome figure in the Resistance, you know, someone we all looked up to because she didn’t back down from the Cardassians no matter what. She didn’t want Starfleet around, and she fought with the provisional government, and it was amazing. She was amazing. Before the war ended, Ryan and I planned on going to join the resistance and fight alongside her.
“Then Kira shows up with Sisko and explains that the Federation has helped Bajor develop a plan for a new source of energy, and it involves using the molten core of Jeraddo and rendering the atmosphere poisonous and they just relocated everyone, like that, and when some people tried to stay and protest, Kira burnt down their house and…”
Jon touched his shoulder, ran a hand down his arm and let it settle above Spencer’s hip, right in the same place he’d watched Jon touch Ryan the night before with a hint of envy. Though whether he’d wanted to be Jon or Ryan, he still didn’t know.
“So we came back here, and Ryan hates it, a lot, because Starfleet officers are all around, but I know he hates Bajor even more because they just let the Federation come in and do all these things, and look, I know that Bajor needed that energy, but you know, sometimes I don’t care, because Ryan is way more important to me than any person on that damned planet.” He hunched his shoulders and Jon squeezed his waist and pulled him a little closer.
Brendon laughed and the sound startled Spencer. The party was still going on, but somehow when he’d been talking to Jon he’d felt a hush all around them. Ryan had a mischievous smirk and said something and then both he and Brendon began to swim towards them.
“Spencer, Ryan thinks you’re too dry,” Brendon said. Ryan nodded sagely and nudged Brendon in the side with his elbow. “And too serious!”
Jon and Spencer shared a look and somehow Spencer managed to convey that now wasn’t the time to break the news to Ryan. He figured the success of this message was down to Jon’s ability to understand these things more than it was to Spencer’s ability to express such a thing with raised brows and twitching lips.
“I’m not wrestling you and I’m not getting on Jon’s shoulders,” Spencer told Brendon evenly.
Brendon sunk down under the water until only his eyes were above and looked at Spencer like a petulant child. Ryan flicked Spencer on his arm, hard enough to sting. “Aren’t you the one always telling me I need to learn how to relax?”
Before Spencer could answer, Brendon surged up and spit a mouthful of water in Spencer’s astonished face. Ryan made an “oooh” sound and swam quickly away and Jon inched back towards the edge of the pool. Brendon smirked gleefully at Spencer as if he didn’t realise he was about to be in the eye of the storm.
“You are so going down,” Spencer said, and Brendon had a second to waggle his eyebrows suggestively before the water closed over his head.
H
Brendon was really sad to see The Academy go, especially right after he’d started to get to know them. He still wasn’t exactly sure why they were in such a hurry to go, only that one moment William had been saying they might stay for the festival next week and then Tony had said something about staying in one place for too long.
Ryan voiced Brendon’s questions. “Jon was good at keeping our warp signature from being traced,” Sisky explained, “but without him we’re going to have to be extra careful about covering our tracks.”
Spencer gave them a dubious look. “Should I be hearing this? Did you guys break some law here?” Brendon knew he was joking. Like, from Spencer’s stories he could tell that Spencer was good at his job, but he usually looked the other way if no one got hurt.
“Smith Spencer,” William said woefully and put an arm over Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer regarded it even more dubiously. “Smith Spencer, you don’t even know the laws we’ve broken, here and elsewhere. Many, many laws. Many, many elsewheres. All broken. But that is not the issue at hand.”
Chislett held up his hands, left palm out, right in front with his index and middle fingers bent and Sisky made a hissing sound.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan asked, and he sounded unimpressed.
Jon shook his head. “The Cobra, man,” Sisky said solemnly. “He’s after us, yo.”
“Yeah,” William agreed, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Yeah. And he’s got moves. They are hot. And he’ll never stop.”
So there were a lot of hugs and goodbyes and some fake tears on William’s part and they promised they’d be back when it was safe again. William tried to bribe Jon again into going with them with the promise of nubile slave girls and quality brew, but Jon looked at Ryan, Spencer and Brendon in turn and said, “Even more than before, I’m so not leaving with you.”
It made Brendon feel all warm and glowy, a feeling that was only mildly dampened when Sisky sidled up to him, put an arm about his shoulder and said, “Remember this: you only see what he wants you to see, over and over again. Nothing more, and nothing less.”
Brendon didn’t know what to make of that at all and Sisky sometimes looked really creepy. But then The Academy left and Jon said, “So, drinks at my place?” and he pretty much forgot about it.
He pretty much forgot about everything except Spencer and Ryan and Jon over the next couple of days. He forgot that he had any reason to be excited about DS9 that didn’t include the three of them, like, for instance, making a good impression on the crew here, making his parents proud, making a name for himself and getting promoted.
Instead, over the next couple of days, he spent every waking hour with one, two, or all three of them—lunch at any of the dozen or so really neat restaurants on the Promenade, afternoons usually spent playing Earth sports with Jon on the holodeck, evenings drinking in one of their quarters.
Brendon had spotted Ryan’s belaklavion and after some wheedling convinced Ryan to teach him. Brendon didn’t like to toss around the term musical prodigy as much as his parents did, in reference to himself, but it was still nice to see the impressed expression Ryan got when Brendon caught on rather quickly.
Then, they’d all been on the Promenade when a ship had gone through the wormhole. Brendon had been stuck still and silent with awe, watching the swirling green and blue mouth open in the sky and Spencer had said, under his breath, something about how envious he was of the pilot. Jon and Brendon had discussed it and the next evening had surprised Ryan and Spencer by appropriating a shuttle and taking them out.
Maybe Brendon would have got in a lot of trouble if anyone knew that he’d dropped his parents’ names to get a runabout and then let three civilians pilot it—two of which had never piloted anything before. But it was worth it to see the matching expressions of wonder on Spencer and Ryan.
So maybe he should have been more excited about his first day on the job, but he was actually a little bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be free to spend the time with the others. That went away pretty much immediately, because his first day on the job was probably one of the best days ever, right after his first day on the station, because that was the day he’d met Jon and Spencer and Ryan.
Lieutenant Dax started a fascinating conversation with him about a project she was working in regards to the wormhole. They ended up talking for a few hours, while running various daily scans that Brendon would be handling on his own, in the future.
After lunch, Brendon got to take a runabout to Jeraddo with another ensign. The two of them were supposed to run some tests on some unusual seismic activity on the northern continent and monitor the energy gathering promise.
By the time he’d changed and met Ensign Dorios and her friends on the holodeck he was incredibly tired, but he was so happy it didn’t even matter. Brendon really wanted to make friends with his new co-workers, he really, really did.
He made a valiant effort to learn the rules, but Karo-net was a really complex game. Mostly he just tried to mimic Dorios, only that didn’t work because he was supposed to be playing a different position. Everyone was a really good sport about it, because there was only one other Bolian, and the rest of the group was as confused as Brendon.
They made a loud, somewhat smelly crowd as they left Quark’s, all talking over each other, matching in their Starfleet sportswear. Brendon had felt a little awkward when he’d just showed up in track shorts and a tank in black trimmed with hot pink, but none of them had said anything.
Someone said something about grabbing drinks and they pushed together a couple tables. Brendon tried. He really, really tried to get into the conversation, but after Spencer and Ryan and Jon, and the guys from The Academy, a bunch of his colleagues trading the latest gossip about their superior offices was really…boring.
“Brendon!” Brendon was always, always, always happy to see Jon, so the fact that he was even happier than usual had to say something about the entertainment level of his current companions.
Dorios and Remsal, both of whom had been making eyes at Brendon (which he’d been very politely but pointedly ignoring), got matching pinched expressions on their faces when Jon laid his arms over Brendon’s shoulders and leaned down to say in his ear, “Brendon, Ryan is working. Spencer and I believe it is our solemn duty to make him stop. Wanna come?”
“Smith Spencer and Ross Ryan?” Remsal asked, pulling a face. That made something ugly rear up in Brendon’s mind. What possible problem could someone have with Spencer and Ryan?
As if conjured by the mention of his name, Spencer came over and stole Brendon’s drink right out of his hands, took a sip and made a face. “I’ve got some tulaberry wine back at my quarters. We show up at Ryan’s door and corner him and get him drunk, then Jon’s going to steal all his pads.”
Jon wiggled his fingers; his arms still being over Brendon’s shoulders, the movement tickled a little where the pads of Jon’s fingers brushed Brendon’s collarbone. “I learned a thing or two on The Academy.”
“Oh,” Dorios said, looking him up and down as if trying to place him. “You’re Starfleet?”
Jon scoffed, a dismissive, slightly derogatory sound. Brendon had learned not to take offence. “No.”
“Really? Did you drop out or something?” Ensign Franks asked. She had this little wrinkle in her nose that expressed her disdain. “I know the sexual education class can do that to some people.”
Jon looked at Spencer, who appeared silently amused by the whole thing and then at Brendon who was trying to be a neutral third party. Jon surprised everyone by pushing back his bangs to reveal a small, golden disk on his brow. Brendon only got a little glimpse before Jon pressed his bangs back down again. He refused to show his surprise in front of everyone, but he was bursting with questions.
“Yeah, that sex ed class of yours? Figure out anything about my people’s sexual practices?” The entire table blushed, and, Brendon noted from the corner of his eye, so did Spencer. Vividly. Bright pink that spread all the way over his jaw, up his ears and over his throat and made his eyes seem even bluer. It was nice.
“I was never at Starfleet Academy,” Jon said.
“But you said...” Dorios protested, frowning.
“That he’s from The Academy,” Brendon supplied helpfully.
“Right!” Dorios said.
“Exactly!” Jon said.
“What?” Franks snapped.
“The Academy is from the Gamma quadrant,” Brendon explained.
“Look, I think some of the Academy's ideology is out there, too, but that's really no reason to dabble in hyperbole,” Remsal scolded.
Brendon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You mentioned something about telaberry wine?” he said to Spencer.
He should have felt bad about leaving, but he was too excited by the prospect of spending time with Spencer and Jon and Ryan. Luckily, Dorios didn’t look annoyed so much as confused. He reminded himself to ask her later why it was so strange that he was spending time with Spencer and Ryan. They hadn’t been anything other than cool.
Ryan was working on an article, and he tried to tell them he was too busy, but his eyes had lit up the moment he’d seen them, so they all knew it wouldn’t take much convincing. In fact, Spencer just invited himself in so Jon and Brendon followed suit, and Spencer poured them each a glass of wine and Ryan gave in just like that.
Brendon had been as patient as he could be, but the telaberry wine was strong and after a couple glasses and a couple hours of chatter over a game of kal-toh, he was feeling bold. His hand, which had been resting on Jon’s shoulder, crept to his hairline, brushing up near his ear, then his temple, toying with Jon’s bangs. He could tell by the way Spencer was watching them from the corner of his eye that he was intrigued, too.
Jon took a sip of his wine and eyed Brendon evenly. Brendon could tell from the little smirk playing on his lips that he wasn’t going to just volunteer the information. Brendon flicked his bangs up once, caught a glimpse of silver. Flipped it again. Now he had Ryan’s attention, too.
“So,” Brendon said casually. He flipped them up again and this time held them that way.
“So,” Jon echoed and arched a brow. Up close, with time to look, Brendon could see the way the disk was silver with Jon’s head tilted toward the light, but gold when shadowed. The shape in the centre could have been a flower or a star, Brendon couldn’t be sure, but it was a dark brown red, dull against the metallic shine of the disk.
It was so incredibly inappropriate, Brendon knew, but he couldn’t help it. He licked his lips and darted a glance at Jon. “Can I touch it?” he asked. Jon nodded, the disk going silver gold silver gold silver.
Brendon touched the skin just outside and it felt the same as any skin, not really particularly warm or cool, soft. Then he dragged his finger down and the skin became cold and slippery smooth, the ridges of the flower-star faint and precise against his fingertip.
Ryan and Spencer watched with curiosity, and Brendon knew if they asked, Jon would let them touch it, too. Brendon wanted to touch them, too, Spencer’s faint, barely there ridges and Ryan’s sharp ones that he kept hidden under his bangs. Like Jon had kept this hidden. Brendon tapped his finger against the spot gently, then dropped Jon’s bangs and took his hands back before it got too weird, all the touching.
“You know what I said down there,” Jon said, not a question. “About my people’s sexual practices. I don’t really like the questions I get about them. Everybody in the galaxy assumes that just because most Risians are sexually adventurous and promiscuous that all of us are. And I figure it’s easier if people just don’t know. Especially given the way everyone on The Academy was. I’d have been molested before they’d learned my name.”
He shrugged and that was it, and Brendon might have thought, in the very back of his mind, that it was a shame that Jon wasn’t sexually adventurous. Then he thought about Ryan and Spencer and thought that he wasn’t sure it was Jon with whom he wanted to be sexually adventurous. Then he thought it was better not to think about it at all.
Next Part:
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