MOAR Procrastination. BIGGAR Procrastination.
He he . . . I have 25 pages worth of work due Thursday. I have zero pages written. So, I'm going to procrastinate a little more, because that makes sense.
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble/ficlet of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal.Since I've ( Read more... )
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble/ficlet of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal.Since I've ( Read more... )
They always dressed quickly afterwards. There was an unspoken code to these kinds of liaisons; two crewmen could help each other out, so long as there were no strings attached. It hadn’t been so bad before the attacks. Back when there was still hope, people looked forward to their shore leave, kept in touch with friends and lovers back home, even felt safe enough to chance a forbidden romance as Sharon and Tyrol had. No more. After months on the run, everyone took what they could get. The well adjusted did so with glee, or at least with a sort of smug pride. The rest closed their eyes and pretended.
But, they never lingered. There were no long talks afterward, no stolen touches and longing glances-nothing that could be misconstrued as romance. Once both parties had had their release in whatever deserted bunkroom or storage locker they’d commandeered, they pulled up their pants, straightened their jackets, and went back to work. Such encounters were winked at, so long as no one suspected genuine attachment was beginning to form.
And, if anyone had noticed that Felix Gaeta sought his release with Alex Quartararo more often than was strictly acceptable, no one had mentioned it. Yet.
Felix briskly washed his hands and slicked his hair back, grateful for the presence of a mirror in the head. Behind him, Alex buckled his belt and tugged on his flight suit. Felix watched his reflection thoughtfully. He had no illusions about what they were doing. It was stress relief at best. He knew Crashdown had others-a certain Ensign Davis came to mind-and that didn’t bother him. Like Felix, Alex’s true interest lay elsewhere.
Still . . . “Be careful down on that planet. There’s no telling what you might run into.” There was no telling what anyone might run into, and the godsdamned Vice President of the Colonies was going along for the ride . . .
Crash offered a casual grin. “It’s the birthplace of the Gods, they’re saying. How bad can it be?”
Felix closed his eyes, imagining a hundred scenarios that ended in the Raptor being blown out of the sky. “For both our sakes, I’m going to pretend you did not just tempt fate by asking that.”
“Relax, it’s just a survey run. I’ll be back--we’ll be back-in a couple of hours.
“Yeah, I know.”
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