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Captain Deacon groaned as he forced open the jamming door of his ship, which still had yet to be operating normally instead of getting stuck every time it began to open mechanically.
As he entered his ship, muttering a quick curse as he stumbled over the doorframe, catching himself he turned and yanked the door closed angrily.
“You're back early,” Bronn said simply.
The captain rolled his eyes, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
Bronn kept his expression neutral, appearing just as disinterested as always but followed Deacon as he made his way to the Captain's quarters.
Once there, Deacon slipped off his navy blue dress shirt, but kept his dark black undershirt on.
After pulling off the shirt and tossing it into the clothes bin for his dirty clothes, Deacon looked at the door frame where the mechanic was leaning, eyeing him as if waiting for an explanation.
Deacon huffed, “What?”
“So, why're you back early? Just a few hours ago you were so confident that this would be “the one,” Bronn put emphasis on the words but didn't raise his fingers for the air quotes.
“I always say that,” Deacon replied with a roll of his eyes, his shoulders slumping, “Besides… she just— we just didn't work out.”
Deacon's eyes fell to the floor and he turned to open a drawer and retrieved a pair of black officers pants which he favored more than the black dress slacks he currently had on.
“In just a few hours?”
Deacon sighed and walked to his door, “Look, just drop it, okay? It didn't work out. Anyway, I need to change. So…,” Deacon nodded for Bronn to go away with his eyes and slowly shut the door to his quarters once Bronn began to leave so he would have some privacy.
As he slipped out of the slacks, Bronn's voice came through the door, “Well, I'm gonna make food. You want anything?”
“Uh,” Deacon paused in thought. He hadn't eaten on his date, “What're you making?”
“Steak.”
“God, please. I'm starving.”
Not only was Bronn an excellent ship mechanic, but he was also the ship's chef as well. The man could grill a mean variety of meats better than anyone he'd ever known.
“Alright. Meet you in the galley.”
A few minutes later, Deacon walked to the galley where he took a seat and watched Bronn cook them both some steaks, his mouth already watering at the smell.
“Thank you for cooking some for me,” Deacon said once he'd seated himself.
Bronn looked over his shoulder and gave a simple, “Mhm,” in response.
The rest of the cooking was spent in silence. Deacon tried to think of some way to make small talk with Bronn but Bronn wasn't the small talking type. Not at all. So, he danced ideas around in his head before settling for an idea that he focused on once Bronn placed both their juicy steaks on the table along with mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and some seasoned baked broccoli with olive oil.
“Where'd you learn to cook like this?”
Bronn relaxed into his seat with a groan before he replied, “From my mom and dad in Tennessee. On Earth.”
So Bronn grew up on Earth just like him and Chase as well. That was interesting. That meant only Nox was from elsewhere. Gavin IV, if he wasn't mistaken.
“Really? Chase and I grew up on Earth, too.”
Bronn gave a nod, his eyes focused on his steak which he cut into and took a bite, nodding and replying as he chewed, “Mhm.”
Deacon took that as a sign that he should eat instead of talking, so he began to eat, keeping quiet as he hungrily devoured the delicious food Bronn had cooked.
It was hard to talk even if he wanted to anyway with how good his food was. Especially the steak and potatoes, but the baked broccoli was just as good. Deacon had never been a big fan of vegetables, but the way Bronn made them was just so tasty. Maybe it was the olive oil and whatever Bronn used to season his broccoli that was so good.
“How is it?” Bronn asked suddenly just as Deacon was midway through with his steak.
“Delicious.” Deacon answered, his tone practically watering with delight as he answered mid chew.
Bronn gave a small smile at that and they finished their food.
After finishing, Bronn got up to retrieve a clear pitcher of dark liquid and brought it to the table, then began to fill his empty glass with it.
“What's that,” Deacon asked as he watched the glass fill.
Bronn's lips twitched with the hint of a smirk, “Another delicacy I learned from my parents. It's called ‘sweet tea’ but you probably wouldn't like it. Kinda an acquired taste I've been told.”
Deacon raised a brow, “Oh? Well, what's in it?”
Bronn placed the pitcher back on the table and relaxed in his chair. He took a long sip, then smacked his lips before replying, “Just sugar, water, and tea.”
“Well, how is that an acquired taste?”
Bronn shrugged,” I dunno. Just what I've been told.”
Deacon breathed through his nose and reached for the pitcher and began to fill his own cup with it.
“You better drink all that,” Bronn said, eyes focusing intently, switching from Deacon's full glass to Deacon, “sugar’s hard enough to come by.”
“I'll… try,” the captain hesitated at Bronn’s sudden stern tone.
Deacon took a small sip. Then, realizing he hadn't gotten quite enough, he took a much bigger sip.
Bronn rolled his eyes, “It's not alcohol. No need to sip it like that.”
Deacon swallowed the drink, “Huh. It's… not bad.”
“Not bad.” Bronn repeated, mumbling with a huff and folding his arms over his chest while giving Deacon a look of disbelief.
“Yeah. It kinda reminds me of Mountain Dew.”
The engineer raised a brow, looking slightly concerned, “Naw. This stuff’s better than Mountain Dew.”
As Bronn eyed the pitcher, a thoughtful look slowly worked its way over his face, his eyes focusing intensely, “Though… Mountain Dew is good, too. Hmm…”
Seeing Bronn suddenly so focused made Deacon grin and he sipped more of his sweet tea, which he was beginning to like more with each sip.
The two finished their drinks together in an awkward silence, then sat not knowing what to do.
“Hm, well I guess I'll clean the dishes?” Deacon asked.
Bronn shrugged, “Your ship, captain.”
Deacon clicked his tongue, “You don't have to do that, you know? Calling me captain. I appreciate it but, well, look around,” Deacon waved his arm to the old ship, “she's a ship, sure, but we're just a simple survey crew is all. I'm not really a captain. We're just a simple science vessel.”
“Well, sure,” Bronn began, picking up a toothpick and placing it in his mouth, “Maybe this is an old hunk-a-junk that can only go so far through space. We need constant refueling since the engine ain't so efficient, she tilts too far left cuz the steering's a bit off, and the nav system ain't the newest so coordination and plotting needs a bit more lovin’ to get us where we need to go just like the rest of her.”
Bronn took the toothpick from his mouth and leaned back, placing his boots on the table and crossing them before he returned the toothpick to his mouth and positioned it in the corner of his lip with a long, comfortable sigh, “But, this is the life. Simple. Calm. Peaceful. I've got all the company I need and all the resources I could ever want. This might not be some fancy schmancy uppity ship-o-the-line, but she's reliable, workable, won't drain your wallet for repairs… I dunno what you're after but me, this is all I need to be happy till I die.”
Deacon simply stared at Bronn. After such a declaration, Deacon thought deeply.
He'd always imagined being the captain of a well-respected ship and crew, journeying to distant worlds, saving the day by mediating little conflicts here and there, making daring rescues, and perhaps even saving some damsels in distress as well.
That's what he loved to read about in his books, and he started off as a science officer on a travelling vessel similar to his own. Only that vessel was far larger and meant for homesteading as well rather than solely for surveying. It ferried homesteaders around to planets which were deemed good for starting up new civilizations on faraway planets.
But he finally had his own crew. So that was something.
He thought he would only be happy once he had his own major vessel similar to the one he served on, but after what Bronn had just said… maybe he was thinking about this all wrong.
“Deacon?”
Deacon snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Bronn, “Y-yeah?”
“What do you want in life? What would make you happy?”
Deacon swallowed and fiddled with his fingers, focussing his attention on them, “I… well, I thought I wanted a ship like the one I served on previously. It was a big homesteading and science vessel that scanned and studied new worlds and set up new civilizations. But now, well… I don't know.”
He continued thinking while Bronn remained kicked back in his chair, silently and patiently waiting for his captain to mull over his future.
“I don't want to be away from Chase. He's, well, he's family to me. And we always wanted to do this together. Nox would have to be there, too. Chase would never leave Nox. And vice versa, I bet… and you're…,” Deacon paused and bit his lip, “you're cool. You've always been respectful. You get your job done and you do a great job— though you give the persona of a lazy sack of crap,” Deacon chuckled and Bronn smirked, “But… it's— it's nice talking to you. When you do talk, I mean.”
Deacon sighed and sat back in his chair, “Geez, I guess I really don't know what I really want.”
Bronn gave Deacon a sympathetic look, then filled his captain’s glass with more sweet tea, earning a thankful smile from Deacon, before refilling his own.
“So,” Bronn began, “Why didn't this date work out?”
Deacon snorted and picked up his glass, raising it to his lips, “Why would it work out? I'm just a freak, I guess,” Deacon took a big gulp then set the glass back down with a thump, “I dunno if it's just my personality or my freckles or maybe that I'm a captain and women feel intimidated by that, I— I don't know,” Deacon ran a hand through his hair.
Bronn nodded softly in understanding, “Well…,” he began, his emerald green eyes resting on his cup which he cupped and slowly rotated in both hands, “for what it's worth, I think you're great.”
“You… do?” Deacon asked, his tone indicating he felt Bronn was only saying that to be nice.
Bronn took a sip of his tea, his eyes looking to the side, he hummed an affirmative as he sipped, then withdrew the cup from his lips and swallowed, “You're, well… I think you're kinda nerdy and dorky, sure, but I'm a guy who nerds out over rocket ship mechanics all day, so… I can't complain. It's a science, like what you're into, just with more metal and, well, mechanics instead.”
Deacon gave a shy grin and rubbed his neck as he felt his cheeks flush, “Well, thanks, Bronn. That… uh, that means a lot.”
Bronn picked up his tea and raised it to his lips. Just before taking a sip, he quickly added, the glass in front of his lips, “Also, I uh… I like your freckles. So…”
Deacon swallowed nervously, not knowing what to do. He tapped his foot nervously under the table, not making eye contact with Bronn. His cheeks felt like they were getting hotter and hotter until he could no longer take it.
Just as Bronn awkwardly lowered the glass from his lips, Deacon bolted upright, “I'll do the dishes,” he practically screamed, then quickly darted over to the sink, beginning to scrub the dishes both the fastest and most efficiently he's ever done dishes before in his life.
Once that was finished, he turned to Bronn who had withdrawn his feet from the table and looked hesitant, his eyes wide with both confusion and worry.
Before Bronn could say anything, though, Deacon shouted once more, “I— I gotta go to the bathroom,” then quickly departed to his quarters.
Once he'd yanked the door closed, Deacon flopped onto his bed and screamed into his pillow briefly. After expelling his rage with himself, Deacon sat back and went to his bathroom to splash some water on his face.
After drying off the cool water and taking several long, deep breaths, Deacon calmed down enough to think.
He'd never considered men. Never in his 25 years. Sure, he’d seen a few guys and thought, ‘damn,’ but he figured it was just a passing, simple thing.
And Bronn had been one of those men to give him that reaction. He was tan, tall, and had a sort of ‘rough and tumble’ charm that Deacon now knew was just Bronn being the most simplest of men ever. And not in a bad way.
Bronn liked his hair long and even had a goatee as well, something Deacon was initially not too fond of. In fact, he viewed it as a sign of laziness. But, after a year of working alongside Bronn, he realized that while Bronn came across as lazy, he was only lazy because he worked so hard to be lazy. He worked hard to keep their small ship in working order, and when everything was in working order, Bronn napped constantly. Even on his off days Bronn typically remained on the ship in his makeshift cabin area down in the little space that they called engineering. The makeshift cabin Bronn called home mostly consisted of a sleeping bag and whatever few belongings Deacon considered to be “clutter.”
But while Deacon used to view Bronn as lazy, he didn’t anymore. Especially not now.
He'd never really given men a chance, but that little moment with Bronn apparently woke something inside him. Something that was either always there or… something.
But… was Bronn hitting on him? Surely not, but… but he had to know, dammit.
Especially with how flustered just those few comments made him.
Deacon looked at himself in the mirror, focusing on the freckles dotting his face.
He'd always been a bit upset with them. He wouldn't go as far to say he hated them, but… he would certainly have chosen to go without them if he'd had the option.
Only… Bronn said he liked them.
Deacon smiled and raised a hand to his freckled cheeks in the mirror, touching them, and imagining how Bronn's hand would feel against them.
They'd probably be a bit rough and calloused from all the handiwork the ship mechanic did.
But Bronn would probably be so precise.
And gentle.
He had to be to work on a spaceship and keep one as old as this one running, after all.
Deacon lowered his hand and grinned at himself, then made his way back to the galley, hoping to talk with Bronn again.
Meanwhile, while Deacon was in his quarters, Bronn bit his lip and sighed, mentally scolding himself for being too obvious.
He took the toothpick from his mouth and twirled it in his fingers.
Although, at least he got his answer… or, maybe. The captain— Deacon, was beet red. He did the dishes, too. If he were truly that upset about Bronn's hint, maybe he just freaked out?
The captain was always a bit jumpy and awkward when it came to these sorts of things.
Bronn returned the toothpick to his mouth and gave a long exhale, figuring there was no point in trying to decipher Deacon's thought process.
He could talk to him later or something and apologize.
Bronn took his cup in his hand, figuring he should finish up his sweet tea then get back to work before they left the fueling station and traveled to their next contract’s job location.
However, only a few minutes later, Deacon returned, stumbling into the galley awkwardly.
“Uh, h-hi.”
Bronn gave a slow nod, “Hey…?”
Deacon looked to the side and rubbed his arm, “S-so… um… you like m-my f-freckles.”
Bronn gave another slow nod, “...yeah.”
Deacon swallowed then looked at the floor, “S-so… um… would uh… would you want— I mean if you were insinuating uh— I mean would you want to… date?”
Bronn's wide eyes bore into Deacon.
Deacon flustered, “O-oh, sorry. I assumed—” he was cut off by Bronn suddenly standing and grabbing his arm.
“H-hey, no. No, it's— it's not like that at all,” this time it was Bronn's turn to pause and swallow, “Yeah, um… I'm interested. In you.”
Deacon bit his top lip, his eyes stinging as he felt tears suddenly begin to form, “R-really?” He squeaked out.
“Really, really.” Bronn replied with a grin.
Deacon gave a snort and looked down to wipe his eyes before he embarrassed himself even further, “Well, okay. Okay!”
“So… yes?” Bronn asked, “to like,” he gestured slowly to Deacon and then himself, “like… us being a— a thing.”
“You mean boyfriends?” Deacon asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah, that.” Bronn laughed back nervously as well.
Deacon nodded, “Yeah. Yeah that sounds great.”
“Well, cool. Cool, cool, cool. Real cool.”
“Yup.”
The pair stood awkwardly in the middle of the galley, looking away then back at each other, then away again. Neither of them knew what to do.
“Well,” Bronn started, gesturing to the table, “I'd ask you on a date, but uh… yeah.”
Deacon laughed, “Well, we could count that… but we could watch a movie… or something?”
Bronn shrugged, nodding, “Sure.”
Deacon beamed and grabbed Bronn by the arm, tugging him along to his room.
An hour later, Chase and Nox returned to the ship looking for Deacon or Bronn and found the pair of them asleep in each other's arms with a movie playing in the background in Deacon’s quarters.
“The heck happened? We were only gone for 6 hours?” Chase asked his boyfriend after he’d slowly and quietly slid the door to the Captain's quarters shut.
Nox shrugged, “I'm honestly not surprised. Bronn's had the hots for Deacon this whole time.”
Chase's eyes practically shot out of his skull, “What?! But Deacon's not— well, I thought he was straight!”
Nox gave another shrug, “Well, apparently not.”
“Huh.”
Nox stretched, “Well, anyway, I had a nice date but… I'd like to get to bed, too, so…”
Chase grinned, “Well let's go, then.”
Nox made a sudden pouty face at Chase, making the blond raise a brow in concern, “W-what?”
“My legs hurt.” Nox playfully pouted.
Chase rolled his eyes, “Oh really?”
“Yes.” Nox faked sobbed, and raised his arms to Chase, “Carry me?”
Chase scoffed and slid his hands around Nox, then lifted his boyfriend up, “Fine.”
“You're lucky I'm strong,” Chase added as they neared their room.
“Oh, I know. But I need to keep you that way. Keep you fit. So, thanks for carrying me,” Nox teased.
Chase shook his head and then entered the room but having to awkwardly rotate sideways for them both to enter, “Says the one whose legs ‘hurt,’” Chase copied Nox's tone and placed him on their bed.
Nox responded by tugging Chase forward and crushing their lips together, then shoved Chase back, though not forcefully enough to throw him off balance.
“Just go get ready and don't keep me waiting,” Nox grinned cheekily.
Chase gave him a glare, crossing his arms over his chest, “And what if I do?”
Nox gave an uninterested shrug and grabbed a magazine off the side table, “Oh, you don't want to know,” he said, licking his thumb before beginning to leaf through the magazine which Chase knew he absolutely wasn't reading.
“You're lucky I love you.” Chase scoffed before storming into the bathroom to not keep his boyfriend waiting, leaving an impishly grinning Nox to snap his magazine closed and stared at his boyfriend’s retreating butt before the door to the bathroom closed behind him.