Chapter Text
Your eyes are like a shot of the best whiskey. Rich and dark and so damn smooth that the finishing flare of heat almost takes me by surprise. I've always thought you had the face of a rascal, and your acquisition of copious scruff and wild-man hair has done nothing to dispel my first impression. But your eyes are a different story. Those eyes conceal secrets and intrigues, but they also reveal truths. Sometimes, when in an experimental mood, I drop my guard and give into their gravitational pull, but only for a moment. Because then they go flat and hard, shutting me down and closing me out so fast that I can almost hear the audible hum of your personal shields engaging.
And that's how I know that you know that something has changed between us, and maybe it scares and tempts you as much as it scares and tempts me. But we're not going to talk about it, because we don't have words for this. Whatever new force has entered our lives, we don't speak its language. So we're not going to try. Instead, we're going to keep moving in circles, our orbits shrinking, tempting fate with every close encounter. Because every once in a while, you put yourself on the line out of conviction rather than necessity, and as for me… well, we're both acquainted with my instinct to fall upon my sword when the situation calls for it, and even sometimes when it doesn't. We're not hotheads, you and I, but both of us know how to take calculated risks. And this… this is a risk.
I don't know how it begins, not exactly. I only know how I become aware of it. It happens when we're meeting with Camile in my quarters. Our little council of three is functioning as I never would have thought possible a few years ago. A low current of tension is still perceptible at times, but we work through it because we have no better alternative. Camile is sitting on my couch, her posture relaxed. She's been talking about crew morale, which never ceases to be a concern. You're standing across from her with your left side propped against the wall, arms folded over your chest. You look bored, but you're present, which is about all I can ask for.
Then Camile makes a small quip that is so effortless in its delivery, so perfect in its brevity, so pointed in its cynicism, that it startles a short, sharp laugh out of you. That sound goes through me like an electric shock. It's so bright and clear that it fills up the room like sunlight, and I'm completely dazzled. After I blink away my surprise, you catch my eye. You lift one eyebrow, and your lips twitch in unmistakable amusement. For a second I'm confused, because Camile's little scrap of wit wasn't at my expense. Then I realize that you're looking at me, not because you're laughing at me, but because you're inviting me to share the joke. We're having a moment. We're forging a connection over a bit of throw-away humor, and I don't know what to make of it. Because we're not friends. We've never been friends.
Camile talks on, oblivious to my momentary distraction, and you soon go back to contemplating the bare walls of my room as if you're wishing for a piece of chalk with which to deface them. I follow the conversation but I don't add much to it. I'm too busy coming to the realization that I like your weasel's face more than I thought, and as for your eyes… well. I like them very much. Maybe a little too much.