who_is_she | fuck my door dude, fuck it, i am so sorry

Skip to Main Content

fuck my door dude, fuck it, i am so sorry

Anthony's quarters were bare and small. The size was nobody's fault, Anthony thought, because the ship itself was not that large. Surely even the Captain's quarters couldn't be much larger, with a crew this size. Still, though, Anthony did prefer his lovely apartment to this small, dark room. The bareness, however, was all Anthony's doing, and it seemed odd that he had brought so few personal trinkets along with him. When he'd been packing he thought he packed everything that seemed important or he thought he'd miss, but looking at it now he can't help but wonder if he did forget something.

There's a photograph near his bed, of him and his parents when he'd been a small boy, and his degrees are framed and hanging on the wall; other than that, the room barely even looks like someone is occupying it. Anthony consoles himself with the thought that he's only been on the ship a few days--surely once he's had time to settle in it'll naturally start looking more lived-in.

For the fifth time Anthony rearranges the books sitting on his small desk and he realizes that he stalling. What he should be doing is the thing he was placed here for--to monitor the ship and its crew and maintain proper records of all goings-on, but, well...

The Captain hated him.

From the moment they'd met Roddie had been frosty to him, if tolerant, but that had quickly dissolved into less-than-gentle ribbing and teasing, and it was humiliating when it wasn't heartbreaking or soul crushing.

Honestly, Anthony could even understand Roddie's distrust, because he was sure he must seem like a collar placed around Roddie's neck to get him in trouble at every misstep--it was just that Anthony hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to be friends with the Captain until the option was no longer available.

Still, being afraid of the ship's Captain was no excuse for Anthony to disregard his duties, he scolded himself firmly, and got up from his desk. He paused just inside the door, his hand hovering over the console next to it.

"One step at a time," Anthony muttered to himself, tapped the console, and left his room.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zakeef, the ship's navigator, had been standing in front of the automatic door leading to Anthony's room, slouched against the frame. He stands slightly more upright as the doors slide open, crossing his arms and standing unflinching as a briskly walking Anthony nearly plows into him

"The captain wanted me to make sure you were ready for takeoff," he says abruptly, offering no other greeting.

Anthony was ready for his duties, ready to face the frosty Captain--and ready to almost crash into one of the other members of Roddie's crew, apparently. Anthony squawks and skids to a halt just before impact, taking a couple unsteady steps back. Zakeef starts talking immediately and it takes a long moment of silence before Anthony even gets over the shock enough to realize those were words.

"I-- Huh?" Anthony says, gaping at the alien who's standing before him and wearing an expression that reminds Anthony of one of his grade school teachers--the one who had hated him.

"I mean, uh," Anthony tried again, swallowing down his terror, "Yes, I'm ready. Are we-- Is that-- Is takeoff soon? I didn't know." Anthony babbled, privately reflecting that he may have been too optimistic when he noted that only the Captain hated him.

Zakeef wrinkles his nose as he watches as the boy in front of him flounders around, tripping over his words as well as his own feet. He sighs, momentarily shutting off his translator in order to mutter curses to himself under his breath. Despite his annoyance at being tasked with babysitting, he couldn't help but feel a little bad for the kid. He'd been so upbeat and eager on his arrival, and seeing the mess he was now struck a sympathetic nerve. He also suspects Roddie may have chosen him to deliver the message to him as a form of punishment; if he wanted to be nice, he would have come himself, or at least sent a more personable messenger than himself. He flips his translator back on and his expression softens.

"Come with me," he says, "you sit up front. I'll take you there."

Anthony shrinks back a little as Zakeef looks down on him like he's a particularly boring, pathetic insect. He can't help but wonder if the Captain sent Zakeef to gather him on purpose, and told him to be as unimpressed and intimidating as possible. Then again, it had only been a few days but Anthony hadn't yet seen Zakeef not looking intimidating or unimpressed, maybe that was just his natural state.

"Oh, I--" Anthony started to respond, but fell silent when Zakeef started down the corridor without him. Anthony stumbled a little (again), but caught up, falling into step just behind Zakeef. He stared at Zakeef's back, wondering if he should try to strike up a conversation and if he could make Zakeef hate him even more by taking about the weather. In the end he just stayed silent and followed Zakeef to the bridge.

The ship is small; it's only a short walk down a tight hallway and up a ladder. When they reach the top of the ladder, Zakeef gives the door two strong knocks.

"Door's open buddy," a voice calls out from the other side, over the booming of an incredibly loud stereo system. Upon opening the door, the two are nearly bowled over by the volume of the music playing in the bridge. Zakeef groans.

"Turn it down!" he shouts to the boy seated in the pilot's chair, taking his place in the seat beside him and turning to look at him, "and for--oh, spirits, not again. Put a shirt on!" The captain complies to the first request, adjusting the volume to be minimally lower than it had been before.

"It's hot in here," Roddie complains as he pulls up his console and starts prepping the ship for takeoff, "You and G Man are just going to have to deal with seeing some nip. Where is stick in the mud anyway?"

"Behind you," Zakeef answers, and Roddie spins his chair around promptly to get a brief look before rotating himself back into position, rolling his eyes as he does.

Anthony followed Zakeef into the cockpit, his unease growing as the booming bass unsettled his stomach. When the hatch opened Anthony grimaced and he heard Zakeef groan; at least he wasn't alone in his distaste for the loud music.

Anthony scrambled up into the small room behind Zakeef, and after a brief glance around he backed away behind the Captain's chair, as he thought it would be presumptuous to take a seat somewhere when it was probably someone's post. The cockpit was small and just looking around Anthony saw a handful of safety violations, and that wasn't even counting the loud music that would fall under an obstruction of communication code violation.

Anthony kept his mouth shut, however, as Zakeef complained to Roddie and Roddie turned the music down a smidge and then complained about him. Anthony felt his face heating up at the insult; G-man and stick-in-the-mud were tame compared to other things he'd been called, but they still stung. He had no intention of getting in Roddie's way or causing him trouble without reason, but apparently he was causing trouble just existing.

Anthony barely even registered the Captain's state of dress until he'd spun around the chair to glare at him. His embarrassed flush kicked up a notch at Roddie's bare chest--toned and smooth and the left side is covered in metal that starts at his neck and disappears into his pants. Anthony has to make a conscious effort to look up at Roddie's face, and he does so just in time to see the Captain rolling his eyes and turning back towards the front.

"It's unsafe to be dressed so in your ship's bridge," Anthony blurts out, some combination of desperation and humiliation making him speak without thinking. He regrets speaking immediately--so much for not causing the Captain trouble. His brain helpfully supplies that he could list off the other dozen code violations in the room and seal his fate forever, but somehow Anthony manages to swallow down the urge.

"THANK you," Zakeef sighs in agreement, giving Anthony a look of exhasperation.

"It's unsafe to be dressed so in your ship's bridge." Roddie repeats in a mocking tone, "Give me a break, both of you. What do you want me to do, wear a uniform?" Nevertheless, he gets up from his chair, and pulls his sweaty disgarded white t-shirt back on over his head. He looks at Anthony, and then at the chair on his left hand side.

"Well?" he says after a few seconds of silence, "Take a seat, pretty boy, it's gonna get bumpy."

Anthony shoots a brief but deeply grateful look at Zakeef before his attention is brought back to Roddie. The mocking stings again but Anthony is comforted a moment later when Roddie follows his advice anyways. He breathes a small sigh of relief when Roddie's bare chest is covered because it was wildly unprofessional and inappropriate to be distracted by his (kind of, sort of) new boss' body.

Anthony startled a little when Roddie spoke to him again, flushing again at being called a pretty boy.

"My name is Anthony," he says scathingly, reaching for his anger to cover up weird shivery feeling he got in the pit of his stomach knowing Roddie thought he was attractive, despite the completely infuriating way Roddie decided to tell him. It took him a long moment to process what Roddie had actually been telling him to do, and when he did he huffed and slid into the chair.

Roddie laughs and raises his hands defensively.

"Okay, ANTHONY, Jesus," he snarks, glad to have gotten a rise out of him but surprised at the intensity in his voice. He looks over at him, and notices that his expression is one more of unease than anger. He frowns a little before turning forward.

"We're headed out to pick up some supplies from the planet Mulara. We're taking them out to a client Vira set us up with in Sector 15." He stops and sighs. This strictly legal stuff was nowhere near exciting as the work he used to take. He pulls up a map on the screen in front of it and looks over their route again.

"Oh oh, there's an abandoned planet here on the way. It says in the description it 'became unsuitable for its inhabitants as its orbit drew too close to its sun,' but we should be fine if we just stop by for an hour or so, right? Just to poke around and see if anything good got left behind. Add this one to our route, Zakeef."

Now satisfied that the trip wouldn't be completely boring, he swivels his chair to face Anthony again.

"Hey, you've flown before, right, Tony?"

Anthony stiffened at the mocking of his name, but forced himself to relax a moment later when Roddie changed the subject. He activated the terminal he was sitting at while Roddie talked, accessing the ship's pre-existing data logs which were woefully undermanaged. The last entry was weeks ago, and even if they had been busy saving the world and then repairing damages, surely there had been time to make records.

Anthony started by creating a manifesto for this trip based on the information Roddie had just given him, hoping there would be time later for Anthony to overhaul the ship's automatic logging programming. He pauses when Roddie adds a spontaneous (and dangerous) stop to their trip, and swivels around in his chair to face Roddie and voice his discomfort with this plan. Before he can, however, Roddie asks him a question.

Anthony pauses, the shortening of his name catching his attention before the content of the question. He tenses, sending Roddie a glare.

"It's Anthony," he repeats, then he squares his shoulders and schools his expression into neutrality, willing himself to deal with this in a calm and professional way, "And no, I haven't. This is my first time leaving Earth." He manages to keep his voice calm but still feels a wave of anxiety crash over him; he's managed to keep his nerves about flying at bay by distracting himself with thoughts of logs and details, but now he can't shake the thought that the only thing between him and certain death was a few flimsy layers of glass and metal.

Edited 2014-10-26 20:51 (UTC)

"Oh," Roddie says, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Well. Yikes. I didn't think they'd give me a guy with no flying experience. Your bosses must hate you to stick you with this job." He turns his chair back towards the front, but continues speaking to him, taking on a gentler tone.

"I remember my first time. It wasn't so bad. I did throw up, but that was because the ship I was in had no artificial gravity. The glob of barf just floated there in the air and- this is probably making you feel worse. Anyway, I'm a good pilot, and we're not in a hurry, so I'll take it slow." He grins as he shifts the ship into gear. "I figured a guy with parents as rich as yours would have flown all over the place. For fun, I mean. You know, had a bunch of rich people vacations to other worlds just for the hell of it."

I volunteered, actually, Anthony thinks about saying, just to see the surprise on Roddie's face. But that information is too close and too personal; if he says that then Roddie will want to know why he volunteered, and Anthony is sure that is something he will never want to know. I thought you were the coolest and most amazing person since the moment I saw you isn't something you say to someone who won't stop teasing you about your name.

Anthony feels himself relax a little at Roddie's blabbering, distracting from thoughts about death and dismemberment in the cold vacuum of space. At the mention of his parents he pauses, wondering if Roddie's assumption has any merit.

He can remember his parents going places on business trips and the like, remembers sometimes being left with a nanny for a week or two at the longest, and wonders if it's strange that he was never taken with them.

"My parents are very busy people. They're focused on their careers. They don't have time for vacations," Anthony says, turning his attention back to his terminal and adding in the extra stop Roddie had requested. He feels a slight doubt at his own words, wonders if those trips had been business related or if he'd just assumed they were--but he shrugs it off easily. His parents are busy.

Roddie has stopped smiling now. He thinks he senses hesitation in Anthony's voice, as if he's speaking more to himself than to him, but he doesn't push it.

"Busy," he mumbles quietly to himself, recalling Anthony's father's involvement in the conspiratorial hell he'd been dragged into, a nightmare which had only come to an end weeks ago, "Guess that's one way to put it."

He pulls some more levers and flips a few switches, and the ship begins to move, lifting itself and hovering several feet off the ground. Another quick look at Anthony tells him the poor guy is still frantic, and his sympathy for him quickly outweighs his annoyance with being assigned a government babysitter.

"Well, this'll be kind of like a vacation I guess," he says, attempting to distract him as they begin to take off. "Only you're stuck in a box with a bunch of strangers for a week. But you'll get to go places and see things at least. What do rich people do when they're not out being tourists anyway?"

Edited 2014-10-26 22:05 (UTC)

Anthony's doubts about his parents fall from his mind as soon as the ship gives a shudder and starts to fly. His hands latch onto the armrests and grab as hard as they can, and after a moment he fumbles for the safety belts on the chair. He pulls the belt over each shoulder and clasps it in the middle of his chest with shaking fingers.

When Roddie speaks again Anthony's head jerks up to look at him, frowning like he doesn't understand. He can't fathom why Roddie is asking him about his habits now, but he catches Roddie glance at him with a gentle smile on his face and Anthony relaxes a little.

"You know, going to balls, donating huge amounts of money to charities, buying beach houses. Normal people stuff," Anthony says, his voice serious, the only hint that he's joking is the half smile on his lips for a moment.

Roddie, appalled, opens his mouth to speak, until he catches Anthony's slight smile. He laughs in disbelief.

"Hey," he says, nudging Zakeef as he steers the ship with one hand. "You hear that? Tony's making jokes." Zakeef ignores him and begins fastening his seatbelt, and Roddie, who had forgotten his own, follows suit, now steering with his knee.

"If you keep making fun of yourself I'm going to run out of stuff to give you a hard time about. And THEN what are we going to do?"

Anthony tries not to let his heart swell too much at the sound of Roddie's delighted laughter but he's fighting a losing battle and the sound is like music in his ears. He feels his cheeks heat up again and hopes desperately that Roddie won't notice, and that he won't always have this reaction to the Captain. Blushing uncontrollably every couple minutes would not make a professional working environment.

"You could stop giving me a hard time," Anthony suggests, eyes still on his terminal so he won't have to think about how much he wants to look at Roddie, or how much he doesn't want to look out the viewport.

Roddie's smile widens when he catches a glimpse of Anthony's flushed face out of the corner of his eye. "Cute," he thinks to himself momentarily, though he quickly tries to shake the thought from his mind. He was surprised to find that, for the moment, he was actually having a decent time talking to this guy.

"Nooo way, I can't do that," he says, still with a hint of laughter in his voice, "Maybe I'll think about it if you ever decide to not be such a fun person to antagonize, huh?" He finally turns his face away from him to give his full attention to the viewport in front of him. He begins accellerating upwards, and the velocity pins everyone in the bridge to their seats.

"Alright," he says, raising his voice over the loud whirring of the engines, "we've gotta break through the atmosphere, but after that it's smooth sailing. You good over there?"

A small, honest smile weaseled its way onto Anthony's face without him meaning it to. He looked over his shoulder at Roddie and opened his mouth to say something probably ill-advised but in the next moment he was thrust back into his chair.

Suddenly the air was gone from his lungs and Anthony gasped for breath, the droning of the engines too loud in his ears. Roddie's voice cut through the sound, explaining their situation and Anthony closed his eyes tight and concentrated on Roddie's voice.

"I'm fine," Anthony said, his voice hoarse and strained, trying to keep the roiling anxiety in his stomach at bay.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only