Archive of Our Own

Life aboard the KSS Infinite gets a bit disrupted by the arrival of the new communications officer. Life always gets a bit disrupted by any new arrival—the Infinite is one of the smaller ships in the fleet (one of the only reasons it’s full of such young officers) and everyone aboard is a known entity. A new addition, especially one so far up the chain of command, well, that’s enough all on its own to introduce chaos to their tightly-regulated little world.

But there’s also the fact that he’s young. Really young. Myungsoo has been the youngest officer aboard since the new ship was christened and launched, and though he doesn’t make much of that fact (Sungyeol does, patting him on the head and mockingly calling him ‘baby’ sometimes), having a dongsaeng among the officers is going to be a big change. When Sunggyu (“Captain Kim, seriously, how many times do I have to remind you? I’m your superior officer, for god’s sake, can’t you show some respect?” “It’s impossible to take anyone as squishy as you seriously, Captain Kim.” “Shut up before I airlock you, Nam.”) gathers the usual suspects (as Woohyun refers to the bridge crew plus Dongwoo and Hoya) to tell them about the new officer who’s going to replace Jiae, Myungsoo imagines him as cute and innocent and enthusiastic, wide-eyed and adorable (and he maybe even hopes he’ll let Myungsoo hug him, since Sungyeol almost never does).

Myungsoo turns out to be very wrong. Lee Sungjong does have one of the prettiest faces Myungsoo has ever seen (Myungsoo just wants to squeeze it from the first minute he sees it), pale and perfect and very young, but he’s also got a cold personality, entirely self-possessed and unimpressed by anything the Infinite has to offer. They’re all introduced formally by their family names and ranks, of course, but Myungsoo introduces himself again as soon as he gets a chance (“I’m Kim Myungsoo, I’m the navigator, I’m your hyung! If you need anything, let me know, and if I can’t do it, Sungyeol can. Sungyeol is the tall one, the helmsman, and he may seem he doesn’t take anything seriously, but he’s a really good helmsman and very, very smart. And funny, too. We’re the youngest; Woohyun—that’s Lieutenant Nam, the first officer—calls us ‘the maknae line,’ and you’ll be one of us now, too!”), but Sungjong’s response is so short it’s barely even polite. Myungsoo bites his lip as he watches Sungjong stride off down the corridor and sighs in discouragement.

First impressions turn out to be pretty much accurate: Sungjong is excellent at his job and just the right side of respectful to the other crew members, but he eats alone, straight-backed and calm-faced, and he never seems to strike up conversation with anyone (though Myungsoo has heard rumors that he sometimes has been seen chatting—and even actually smiling—down in engineering with Hoya, though Myungsoo isn’t sure he believes that). Myungsoo tries a couple more times to initiate more conversation and get to know him, but Sungjong is anything but cooperative. Still, Myungsoo can’t quite manage to keep his eyes off that beautiful face or those long, lovely fingers that fly over the communications panel with such assurance (Myungsoo has a thing for pretty, competent hands that Woohyun says he should blame entirely on Sungyeol).

“Kim Myungsoo, stop staring at Lieutenant Lee—the other Lieutenant Lee, Sungyeol, stop making that face—and turn your face towards the viewscreen! At least try to act like an officer!” Sunggyu’s voice is exasperated, and maybe it has a right to be, since that’s like the thirteenth time he’s had to remind Myungsoo that he’s not allowed to stare at Sungjong while he’s on duty. Woohyun, sprawled in his chair in the most unprofessional manner (Sunggyu has long given up actually trying to get him to sit up straight), smirks and winks at Myungsoo, who blushes a little and bends his head over his starcharts. It’s not like he’s really doing anything at the moment, they’re on autopilot and everything, but it’s still embarrassing getting called out for staring.

Woohyun claps him on the shoulder as they go off-duty, flashes him a grin. “Well, I guess we know now that you have a type,” he says, and Myungsoo blinks at him in incomprehension. Woohyun sighs. “Tall, pale, pretty, unreasonably smart, last name Lee? God, man, keep up!” And then he’s gone chasing after Sunggyu (Sunggyu is furiously ignoring him, but Woohyun isn’t discouraged because he’s Woohyun), leaving Myungsoo alone to reflect on how he really is as obvious as his noonas at the Academy always teased him that he was.

No matter how obvious he seems to be, Myungsoo’s kind of hoped that Sungyeol won’t notice his preoccupation with Sungjong, but luck is not on his side, and he shouldn’t have expected it to be. Sungyeol has one of the sharpest minds of anyone he’s ever met, and considering the amount and kind of classes Myungsoo took at the Academy, that’s saying something.

It was actually one of the things that first drew Myungsoo to Sungyeol, that keen mind. Their first class together first year and Myungsoo had been dazzled enough by the tall, beautiful boy as soon as he sauntered in on those impossibly long legs (Myungsoo may have started dreaming about running his fingers through that pretty black hair from the moment he first saw Sungyeol), but then he started answering every one of Colonel Jung’s questions like they were the easiest queries in the world, and Myungsoo had been gone.

He’d sidled up to the seat beside Sungyeol’s the second day of class, slipping into it quietly, and never relinquished it, and if Sungyeol noticed that Myungsoo spent most of the class staring at him instead of taking notes (he probably did; Sungyeol is smart), he never commented on it (if Myungsoo hadn’t had such a good head for numbers, he probably would have failed. Instead, he came out with the second highest grade in the class). Myungsoo took to following him around (“Like a sad, pathetic puppy,” Minha would say with a sigh) and while Sungyeol never actually invited him to anything, he also never told him to go away and he even started conversations (not that Myungsoo had much to contribute at first; he was too starstruck to do much more than nod and blink, but Sungyeol didn’t seem to mind).

One day, after several months of Myungsoo shadowing Sungyeol’s every move, Sungyeol paused in the middle of the square, turned and gave Myungsoo (a half-step behind him, as always) a level look from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, led him back to his dorm room, gestured him inside (“my roommate is an Orion—she’s never home, you can imagine”), and said, “You like me a lot, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question, and that was the day Myungsoo lost his virginity.

They’ve been together ever since—“for certain values of ‘together,’” Minha would say, with a toss of her hair—and Myungsoo barely spends any time in his own quarters even now because he’s always in Sungyeol’s room. They aren’t officially ‘dating’ or anything, Myungsoo doesn’t think (though he’s never been very good at understanding the vagaries of dating rules—nothing he saw or experienced at the Academy was anything like the romance manhwas he devoured all the way through his growing up years and still gets his best friend from home to forward to him whenever possible—and while he can read any starchart, solve any equation he’s ever seen, and find navigational paths in patches of space that would make most navigators weep with frustration, figuring out what Lee Sungyeol feels for him is completely beyond him), but they spend all their time together and Sungyeol laughs at the things he says sometimes (not necessarily the things Myungsoo intended to be funny, but Myungsoo doesn’t care as long as Sungyeol is laughing) and they have sex almost every day and Sungyeol’s never told him to go away, so. Just being close to Sungyeol is all Myungsoo’s ever really asked for and if he wants more (like desperate ‘I love you’s and dates and gifts and anniversaries and rings and marriage and kids and dying at the same time of old age in the same bed surrounded by fat grandchildren who all have inherited Sungyeol’s cheeks—and eyes—and hands—and everything), well, he knows you don’t always get what you want (his dad’s frustrated hopes of joining the Fleet—and the scars left by that shattered dream—taught him that at a young age).

Like having Sungyeol not notice that Myungsoo can’t drag his eyes away from Sungjong—Myungsoo doesn’t get that. Myungsoo’s been dreading Sungyeol bringing it up, but he should have known Sungyeol wouldn’t be jealous (not like Myungsoo, whose heart aches whenever Dongwoo makes Sungyeol laugh or whenever Sungyeol flirts with Nurse Nana in the mess or whenever Sungyeol seems a little too buddy-buddy with Woohyun). He could never have guessed, though, just how Sungyeol does react.

Sungyeol is balls-deep inside him, sweaty and panting and gorgeous and perfect, fingers digging into Myungsoo’s hips, when he first brings up Sungjong.

“So you like the pretty new communications officer, do you, Myungsoo?”

Myungsoo almost chokes on his own tongue, jolts, and his muscles clench up in a way that makes Sungyeol let out a filthy moan. That moan would normally be enough to have Myungsoo floating near the ceiling with pride and joy for the rest of the week, artificial gravity be damned (I made him do that!), but this time he’s so shocked that he tries to pull away. Sungyeol’s (pretty pretty) fingers just tighten on his hips, and though Myungsoo could pull away, he doesn’t (he doesn’t have any idea what this is, but he still wants it. He always wants it when it’s Sungyeol). “I’ve seen the way you look at him—at his hands.” Myungsoo hadn’t thought his heart could beat any faster than it does when he’s fooling around with Sungyeol, but apparently he was wrong—fooling around with Sungyeol + terror = Myungsoo’s heart going to Warp 9 (Myungsoo is very good at math).

But Sungyeol is calm, or at least as calm as someone fucking the shit out of someone can possibly be, the pump of his hips not slowing down at all. “He’s got really pretty hands, doesn’t he? Almost as pretty as mine. Do you wish those were his hands on your cock right now?”

Myungsoo’s hand spasms around his erection (and when had his hand moved back there?), and he’s so confused and terrified but also maybe more turned on than he’s ever been before (except for maybe that one time when Sungyeol’s Orion roommate tried to seduce him and Sungyeol had been absolutely furious when he walked into the room and found Laira draping herself over a glazed-eyed Myungsoo, yelling something about consent and dragging Myungsoo off to his own dorm room—and he hadn’t even known that Sungyeol knew where his room was, but he hadn’t had time to think of it then because he was so hot and tingly all over and his skin felt like it was going to split with heat if someone else’s skin didn’t touch it now and the only thing he’d been able to think was SUNGYEOLSUNGYEOLSUNGYEOLNOW. And then Sungyeol was pushing him into a cold shower and the coldness just made Myungsoo feel hotter and Myungsoo was struggling to get Sungyeol into it with him and it had taken a while, almost painfully hot minutes of Myungsoo trying to crawl all over Sungyeol and Sungyeol trying to peel him off and Myungsoo whining and begging as he rubbed against any bit of Sungyeol he could reach and Sungyeol trying to push him away but finally they’d had the best sex they ever had on the floor of Myungsoo’s shower unit with cold water pelting around them and Sungyeol rasping, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” against Myungsoo’s ear the whole time. It had taken Myungsoo a long time to convince Sungyeol that he didn’t have anything to be sorry about, but Myungsoo thinks maybe Sungyeol still thinks he did something wrong that day, even though Myungsoo knows that nothing he and Sungyeol ever do together could be anything but perfect).

Sungyeol has always been vocal during sex (he teases Myungsoo because Myungsoo can never actually form words, just whines and whimpers and shrieks and things like that—and also because he says Myungsoo is ugly during sex, his face slack or screwed up, eyes tight shut or bugging out, “and your tongue, Kim, can’t you get control of that thing?” But the way Sungyeol teases never makes Myungsoo feel hurt because it’s just Sungyeol’s way of showing affection), but this is…this is something else altogether. Myungsoo would almost believe that this was some sort of revenge on Sungyeol’s part, but there’s no jealousy in Sungyeol’s voice and Sungyeol doesn’t get jealous, not even when he finds Myungsoo snuggled up to CMO Dongwoo in the rec. Sungyeol had answered Woohyun’s mockery once with a, “Like I ever need to be jealous. Myungsoo’s the most faithful person in the universe,” and Myungsoo knows he meant that. So why is he doing this now, whispering hot and dirty against Myungsoo’s skin about the things he’d like to see Sungjong do to Myungsoo?

Sungyeol’s voice is so, so hot against his ear (Myungsoo’s always liked the way it cracks even more during sex) and his fingers digging into the tender skin of Myungsoo’s hips hurt but in the best way, and Myungsoo’s so damn confused because Sungyeol won’t stop talking about Sungjong and how hot he’d be with his head thrown back as Myungsoo sucks him off and Myungsoo doesn’t understand at all because it’s Sungyeol he wants, Sungyeol he’s always wanted and why is Sungyeol talking about this and why is it so hot and when he comes, it’s longer and harder than ever before, so good Myungsoo feels like his soul is coming right out of his body, and it’s only in the moment that he finally collapses that the idea pops into Myungsoo’s head that maybe Sungyeol wants Sungjong, and Myungsoo is absolutely certain he’s never been more terrified in his life.

Sungyeol finally releases Myungsoo’s hips and pulls out (that moment when Sungyeol pulls out is always agony for Myungsoo—he feels abandoned, bereft, even if he knows that’s stupid), flopping down onto the bed with a moan. “That was really hot,” he says, throwing an arm over his face. “Too bad the other Lieutenant Lee is frozen colder than space—we could have a lot of fun with him.”

That ‘we’ is the only thing that keeps Myungsoo from bursting into hysterical tears and begging Sungyeol not to leave him.

Myungsoo usually cuddles up to Sungyeol after sex—Sungyeol doesn’t return the cuddles, but he tolerates Myungsoo’s arms around him for a while before he starts whining about how they need to take a shower before they end up crusted together—but this time he lays flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what the hell’s going on. He listens to Sungyeol’s snoring until his alarm goes off and doesn’t come up with an answer.

It just so happens that Myungsoo has a physical scheduled the next day, and Dongwoo—Dr. Jang, inside the sickbay—is his usual cheerful but completely competent self (Myungsoo’s never met a doctor who laughs so much during exams and it should probably be weird, but it’s Dongwoo so it’s not), at least until he sees the bruises on Myungsoo’s hips (it’s not like Dongwoo hasn’t see marks all over Myungsoo’s body from the things he and Sungyeol get up to, but this, apparently, is new). Then his eyes go deep with concern and he rests his hands on Myungsoo’s shoulders (he’s so tiny in his white lab coat over his uniform and Myungsoo is sitting on the exam table so he has to reach up and it’s kind of endearing) and asks him very solemnly, “Did you want it, Myungsoo? Was it okay with you?”

Myungsoo comes thisclose to telling Dongwoo everything about what happened in Sungyeol’s quarters last night and begging him to help him figure out what it means, but in the end he just nods because he did want it and the sex was absolutely okay—so, so much better than okay—and that’s what Dongwoo was talking about anyway.

Dongwoo keeps studying his face for a long moment, eyes made of compassion, and finally he seems to accept Myungsoo’s answer and moves to carry on with the exam. He finishes it with a hug and a lemon lollypop, just like always (Sunggyu always grumbles that Dongwoo should have been a pediatrician if that’s the way he wants to behave in the sickbay, but Nana says the captain never refuses either hug or lollypop so Myungsoo thinks he’s all talk), and Myungsoo clings for a while because he can (and because no one else on board will ever hug him except Woohyun only sometimes).

“Lee Sungjong doesn’t like lemon lollypops, can you believe it?” Dongwoo says as they’re heading out of the examining room. Myungsoo trips over the door jamb and almost ends up with his candy jammed in his throat, but Dongwoo just pounds him on the back, thinking that it’s just typical Myungsoo clumsiness. “He didn’t seem that thrilled by the hug, either, when I gave him his preliminary physical the other day. He’s a strange one, that boy. But Hoya likes him, so I guess he’s okay.”

Myungsoo heads slowly to the mess hall, sucking thoughtfully on his lollypop and trying to think of what he knows about Lee Sungjong and what those things might tell him about why Sungyeol would bring him up in bed when he’s never brought up anyone else there ever.

As it turns out, Myungsoo eventually realizes that after a month and a half of Lee Sungjong’s presence on the Infinite, Myungsoo knows just exactly as much about him as he knew the first day he arrived: that he’s Korean, one of the youngest cadets to ever go through the Academy, absolutely brilliant with any and all kinds of communication, he has a face the female crew sigh over with love and a figure they sigh over with envy, and he has the prettiest hands Earth has ever produced—except for Sungyeol’s, of course. Oh, and now he’s friends with Hoya, apparently. That’s it.

That’s not enough.

“I’d say he thinks he’s better than the rest of us, what with the way he acts,” Woohyun says thoughtfully, tapping his chopsticks against his bottom lip. It’s the mess, two days after the physical, and it’s the first time he’s gotten a chance to talk to Woohyun without Sungyeol or the Captain around (Sunggyu always gets jumpy and grumpy when anyone alludes to inter-ship dating; Hoya says it’s because he’s so scared Woohyun’s finally going to reel him in one day). “He certainly gives off a vibe of superiority, but somehow I don’t think that’s it.”

“Maybe he just wants to prove he’s mature enough to be in the position he is,” Dongwoo says, dropping his tin dinner tray down on the table and plopping down beside Woohyun. He looks taller without the labcoat on, and his hair is pink right now. “You are talking about Lee Sungjong, right?”

“Myungsoo’s not sure what to make of him—though he obviously likes what he sees—and to be honest, neither am I,” Woohyun confirms.

Myungsoo doesn’t mind the teasing— Woohyun is a good officer and a good hyung for all his flirting with the captain and teasing everyone all the time, and he’s never disturbed by Myungsoo’s oddities the way most of the other crew is—as long as neither Sungyeol or Sungjong are around to hear it, so he doesn’t even bother to protest. He’s too busy contemplating what Dongwoo said to really blush much anyway.

“He’s not the easiest person to get to know,” Dongwoo allows, which is probably the closest thing to something negative Myungsoo has ever heard him say about anyone. “I’ve thought a lot about why.”

Woohyun laughs, the sound warm and full of affection, and throws an arm around Dongwoo’s shoulders. “Of course you have, hyung,” he says, using the terms they prefer when they’re off duty. “That’s our Dr. Jang, always concerned about everyone.”

Dongwoo smiles around a mouthful of something green, looking just a bit sheepish. “Well, he’s one of our crew now. And he’s so young.”

“You think that’s what it is?” Woohyun sounds genuinely interested, not gossipy the way he gets sometimes, and Myungsoo knows his hyung really is concerned with how their newest officer is fitting in. Woohyun takes the ship dynamic very seriously. “He’s scared we’re not going to take him seriously if he doesn’t act uber-professional all the time?”

Dongwoo shrugs. “Can you blame him? He’s one of the youngest to ever go through the Academy—even younger than our other maknaes.” He reaches out to ruffle Myungsoo’s hair at this. “Probably he’s used to not being taken seriously.”

“Hmm.” Woohyun muses on this. “No, I guess I can’t. Lonely way to live, though, don’t you think?”

“Well, he’s only been here for a little over a month—we have to give him time. And Hoya says he’s gotten him to talk some, though he won’t say much about what he says. Maybe the rest of us are a bit much for him and that’s why he likes Hoya—Hoya’s pretty calm compared to the rest of us.”

Myungsoo has been listening in silence to his hyungs’ conversation, listening with the intensity he lends to everything he really cares about, trying to piece together a picture of who Lee Sungjong really is. Dongwoo is right—Sunggyu-hyung and Woohyun’s interactions (grumpiness and nagging on Sunggyu’s part, constant flirtation on Woohyun’s) are probably a lot to deal with on their own, and Dongwoo, while the sweetest person alive, is so full of energy he can overwhelming at times, and Sungyeol can be loud and obnoxious when he wants to be (or so Myungsoo has heard; he’s never once found Sungyeol obnoxious), and as for Myungsoo himself, well, he knows he has a reputation for being a bit odd (“A creeper, Kim Myungsoo,” Minha says. “That’s what you are: a giant creeper. If I didn’t know for a fact that you’re practically a newborn kitten, I’d be terrified of you.”). Combine that with Sungjong’s need to prove himself, and maybe there’s a good reason why Sungjong only seems to melt a bit around Hoya and wants nothing to do with the rest of them.

It still doesn’t explain what Sungyeol said in bed, though. But Myungsoo’s not about to bring that up with anyone—he’s pretty sure Sungyeol would kill him if he knew Myungsoo was talking about their sex life with anyone, especially Woohyun—so he allows his hyungs to change the subject and doesn’t mind them laughing at him about how he’s totally zoned out. He’s used to that by now.

Myungsoo finds himself in the observation room the next time he’s off duty. He’d thought about going to visit Hoya down in the engine room to see what information he could gather from Sungjong’s only friend, but he decides against it. Part of his reluctance is that even though he likes Hoya a lot and they get along well when they’re with the other guys or sitting in companionable silence in the mess—and even though there’s no one else in the universe he’d trust Infinite’s engine to—Myungsoo isn’t exactly used to talking to him and probably trying to start with a topic like this isn’t the best idea. He’d rather ease into it with something a little less…awkward.

Plus, he just really doesn’t think Hoya is going to be of much help. Hoya’s got a dirty sense of humor and a sense of mischief that flares up at the strangest times, but he’s also loyal and takes his duties as a friend very seriously, and if he’s not telling his best friend Dongwoo what he and Sungjong talk about, then he’s probably not going to tell anyone. Myungsoo respects that, even if it’s disappointing.

So instead of trying to pump Hoya for information he’s never going to give, he heads up to the observation room as he often does when he’s got some free time that doesn’t overlap with Sungyeol’s or Dongwoo’s. It’s his favorite place onboard (well, besides Sungyeol’s bed) and not just because he can so often count on the large darkened room with its viewports to the stars beyond to be empty (if he can’t be as close to people he cares about as possible, Myungsoo would rather be alone).

He’s sitting as close up against the glass (not that it’s made of glass, but that’s how Myungsoo thinks of it) as he can get, his forehead resting against the cool slickness (Hoya had told him once that that coolness isn’t natural, that it should really be the same temperature as any other surface on board because it wasn’t like the coldness of space could seep through the material, but Hoya has always felt like it should be cold, so he sets the temperatures to mimic the coldness of a winter window on Earth, and that’s another reason why Myungsoo likes Hoya so much) when he hears a footstep behind him and he raises his head to see a silhouette against the glow of the doorway.

Myungsoo blinks hard and after a second he recognizes that silhouette—it’s male but with a curve to it that only one person on board has, a curve that’s made even more pronounced by the tailored lines of the Fleet uniforms—and then he makes a small surprised sound.

“Excuse me,” Sungjong says coolly. “I didn’t know anyone was here.” And then he’s turning to go.

Myungsoo tries to lurch to his feet, but his palm slips against the glass and he ends up in a tangle on the floor. His cheeks go red—it’s typical Myungsoo clumsiness and he almost doesn’t even bother glaring anymore when Sungyeol and Woohyun and Dongwoo laugh at him, but it’s somehow different in front of this immaculate, beautiful boy with his wrinkle-free uniform and the perfect fall of his hair over one eye (it’s always combed back when he’s on duty, but as soon as he leaves the bridge it falls in a wave that obscures just one of his gorgeous eyes, and for some reason it makes him seem even more mysterious and untouchable and it’s really disturbingly distracting). He makes a few embarrassing noises before he finally manages to get some words out—“No, you don’t have to—I can leave if you want to—I didn’t—“

Sungjong had paused at Myungsoo’s movements, and at the words, Myungsoo can see him hesitate. Then he sighs—a sound Myungsoo has never heard him make before, and it’s surprising, a kind of admittance to baser emotions (like impatience or surrender) that Myungsoo hadn’t been sure Sungjong ever feels. Myungsoo finds himself staring at Sungjong as the younger lower officer lowers himself to the ground a little distance away, and he jerks his gaze back to the view out the viewport.

It’s quiet in the observation room, as always, the only sound the familiar hum of the Infinite’s engines (Myungsoo has heard some of the other models run silently, but he thinks that would be unnerving and is glad of the soothing purr on his ship) and his own and Sungjong’s breathing (after a minute or two, Myungsoo finds his has fallen into the pattern of Sungjong’s so that it sounds like only one person is breathing. Myungsoo thinks he maybe shouldn’t like that as much as he does).

Myungsoo really, really wants to stare at Sungjong. Really a lot. But for some reason every single comment anyone has ever made about his staring (and there have been a lot of them starting when he was just a little boy who ‘is sweet and respectful but develops strange fixations on a select few of his classmates’—words written by a fond but baffled teacher on his very first report card—and up to just this morning when Sunggyu had nagged him for staring at Sungyeol again) is echoing inside his head and so he keeps his eyes focused on the starscape, even if he feels like he’s not seeing it at all.

Myungsoo has heard people talk about ‘awkward’ or ‘uncomfortable’ silences, but he’s never really understood what that means. He never finds anything about silence awkward or uncomfortable, and Minha had told him once that that his obliviousness to the tension just makes everything more uncomfortable for the other person. Myungsoo mostly doesn’t think much about it because he doesn’t have any control over it anyway, but he finds himself thinking of it now. Is this silence awkward? Is Sungjong uncomfortable? The rest of the usual suspects are used to his silences and aren’t bothered by them—Sunggyu even sometimes lets Myungsoo sit in the comfy chair in the corner of the captain’s office while he does paperwork (“You’re comforting to him, Myungsoo, because you don’t talk back and you don’t bother him,” Woohyun explains because Woohyun understands Sunggyu best for all they’re nothing alike. “Besides, Sunggyu has always been a cat person.”)—but who knows how Sungjong feels.

Myungsoo tries to think of something to say, rooting around in his mind for a topic that won’t sound weird and coming up empty. “You’ll never believe it, but he can talk your ear off when he’s in the right mood,” Sungyeol had explained to Hoya when they’d first met, and while that’s true, Myungsoo also isn’t one for talking when he doesn’t have anything to say (years of being told that the things he says are ‘weird’ or ‘creepy’ has the tendency to silence engrained in his bones) and small talk has always been completely beyond him. Still, he wants to try, for Sungjong.

But it’s actually Sungjong who speaks, and though his voice is pitched quiet, he still nearly startles Myungsoo out of his skin. “I’ve never seen anyone up here before.” After his initial jerk of surprise, Myungsoo lets himself look at the slice of Sungjong’s face he can see: a pale curving line lit up by the stars outside the not-glass, like a sliver of the moon (except it’s more beautiful than any moon Myungsoo has ever seen). “I come up here a lot,” Sungjong continues, and Myungsoo marvels at the contrast between his voice—soft, high, with just the slightest of feminine lilts—and the way he uses it—calm, contained, almost flat. “I like it here. But I’m always alone. I would have thought a lot of people would spend time here—what’s the point of joining Starfleet if you don’t want to see the stars?”

It takes Myungsoo a while to order his mind enough to think of something to say. And when it comes out it seems ridiculous: “Sungyeol is scared of space.”

Myungsoo can only see one of Sungjong’s eyes, and it blinks in surprise, the long, full lashes brushing against moonlight-gilded skin. The sight makes Myungsoo trip over his words even more than usual. “He just joined Starfleet because he said it’s the only place that will challenge him, but he never comes up here if he can help it because he says it reminds him just how close we are to imminent death and—“ he struggles to remember Sungyeol’s phrasing— “’the abyss of nothingness.’ Sunggyu—Captain Kim, he’s too busy to spend time looking out the windows, and Woohyun thinks people are way more interesting than planets. Dongwoo can’t sit still long enough to stargaze; he says it’s pretty but he starts fidgeting after two minutes—he’s only still when he has a scalpel in his hand. And Hoya doesn’t like to be too far from his engines for long. He isn’t the starry-eyed kind, anyway.”

The words come tumbling out without Myungsoo half thinking about them, and when they peter out, Myungsoo thinks he’s discovering what awkward silence really is. Myungsoo knows for a fact that Sungjong has never heard him speak that many words together at one time (Sungjong doesn’t come to the weekly poker-and-soju nights the rest of the usual suspects enjoy, though he’s been invited. Myungsoo—hilariously, Sungyeol says—has the highest alcohol tolerance of any of the officers, but you put enough soju in him and he starts to babble. And sometimes just being around Dongwoo is enough to get him shouting nonsense) and after their few stilted attempts at conversation, it must be a surprise. Maybe Sungjong doesn’t like the sound of his voice—Myungsoo’s always found it weird himself. Or maybe Sungjong just doesn’t care about what Myungsoo has to say or the way the other officers feel about space. Maybe Sungjong wasn’t really wanting to start a conversation; maybe there had been some other intention in what he said that Myungsoo hadn’t been able to pick up on. Maybe they’ll always be like this, him and Sungjong: strangers with a wall of ice between them.

When Sungjong finally speaks, his words are the last Myungsoo expected and to make things worse, Myungsoo can’t interpret his tone. “Are you the starry-eyed kind?”

Well. What can he say to that? He was often accused of having his head in the clouds as he grew up because he seemed to never pay attention—“except when you really care about something and then you pay too much attention,” Suji always said. Maybe people think he’s starry-eyed, though he’s never felt that way himself. He never really had any big dreams (no visions of glory for Kim Myungsoo, just simple needs: food he likes and work he can do well and maybe a camera and someone to love); he ended up in Starfleet half because a brain like his only ever leads there these days and half out of need to escape home. Starfleet—Sungyeol—the Infinite—his family—all of it just sort of fell into his lap and despite how people go on about his brain, he’s never felt half worthy of them, no matter how hard he works to make himself deserve them (maybe there are some things Myungsoo can never escape, and there are lines Dongwoo can see on his equipment where ribs and wrists were broken once upon a time, even if the sweet CMO never talks about them). But he has them now, so much more than he ever let himself think of, so much more than he’d ever have thought to dream of back home.

He thinks of home now, of the cramped rooftop room in the most run-down section of Seoul that held him and his mom and his dad and his senile grandmother and the few things they owned. Myungsoo had spent as little time in that room as possible, even in the winter climbing up onto the roof of the room to stare up at the sky, oblivious to the shivering of his body (to this day, he prefers the cold: heat makes him think of that room with too many bodies in too small a space. Myungsoo likes Hoya, but he avoids the engine rooms).

“It’s not the stars I so much care about,” Myungsoo says, and he doesn’t feel like he’s the one saying the words, more like they’re coming from his soul and bypassing his brain and mouth all together, just forming themselves visible in the air between him and Sungjong, and he’s never said this to anyone before, not even Sungyeol (though, somehow, he thinks maybe Sungyeol knows). “It’s the space between—it’s space. Everyone always says it’s nothing, but sometimes nothing is better than something, and it’s always there, always the same, and it’s so calm and quiet and steady and it just goes on and on and on and—“

There aren’t words for this, and so he stops, because he’s revealed too much, maybe, the parts of him no one likes to see, the parts he tries to hide: the hungry black hole inside of him that just wants to be loved and accepted, wants it sosososo bad and doesn’t care about anything else.

Sungjong doesn’t say anything, and now—now Myungsoo knows what awkward silence is. He can’t even look at Sungjong’s face anymore, instead makes himself face the black beyond, and there are stars there, but Myungsoo doesn’t see them.

“There you are.”

Sungyeol’s voice is so sudden and unexpected that it explodes through the silence, making both Myungsoo and Sungjong jump at the same time. It would probably be funny, except that it’s not, but it’s enough to release Myungsoo from the spell that was holding him suspended.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Sungyeol continues, and his voice isn’t even as loud as it usually is, but it seems almost deafening in the aftermath of the hush between Myungsoo and Sungjong. Sungyeol is still standing in the doorway, lounging his long body against the doorframe, and his silhouette is so different than Sungjong’s was: all straight lines where Sungjong has so many gentle curves. Myungsoo’s dazed mind has the sudden ridiculous thought that he doesn’t know which one he prefers.

Which is crazy because he’s been in love with Sungyeol’s lanky frame since the first time it sauntered into that lecture hall and Myungsoo’s never even looked at anyone else’s body (not like that) since. How could he ever want anything more than Sungyeol and his sharp mind and his long fingers and his quick tongue and his careless disregard for authority and tradition and his adorable fear of space despite being an officer in Starfleet?

Which reminds Myungsoo—why is Sungyeol even here? Sungyeol knows if he can’t find Myungsoo in one of their rooms or in sickbay or Sunggyu’s office or the mess or the officer’s lounge that he’s definitely in the observation room, and Sungyeol never comes up here to fetch him. For one thing, Sungyeol isn’t the fetching type; his philosophy has always been more of taking advantage of when paths cross than of seeking out. But more than that, Sungyeol avoids this room if at all possible, and on the rare occasions he’s needed to speak to Myungsoo when Myungsoo is here, he just comms him. So why is he here now?

Myungsoo cocks his head, thinking hard, but Sungyeol doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, other-Lieutenant-Lee,” he says with a grin, using the nickname he’s given Sungjong that Sungjong never acknowledges. “I didn’t know you were up here, too.”

And somehow Myungsoo knows Sungyeol is lying. He couldn’t tell why, but he’s studied Sungyeol’s every move, every gesture and tic, with an intensity he’s never given anything else since the day they first met, and he knows when Sungyeol is lying, and he knows Sungyeol is lying now, despite the fact that Sungyeol is really good at it and no one else would probably be able to tell, not even Woohyun. Sungyeol knew Sungjong was up here, but he wants Sungjong to think he didn’t know, and Myungsoo doesn’t understand that at all. Why is he lying?

Myungsoo doesn’t get to wonder for long because Sungyeol holds out a hand to him—one of those perfect hands Myungsoo will never recover from—and Myungsoo goes to him because he can’t do otherwise. If Sungyeol wants him—for anything, for everything—Myungsoo is there. But he casts one quick glance over his shoulder at Sungjong’s outline dark against the stars before Sungyeol has taken his hand and pulled Myungsoo against him.

Myungsoo knows exactly how many times Sungyeol has kissed him in public, because the amount is once. Well, it counts as one incident in Myungsoo’s mind, even if it was more kisses than that. Sungyeol has never been the affectionate sort, though he’s very sexual, and he keeps that sexuality to himself and his partner (and that partner is Myungsoo, since that first time in Sungyeol’s messy dorm room with the afternoon sun streaming in through the window and Sungyeol easing into him with a low, cracked whine that made Myungsoo feel like his heart had gone supernova. They’ve never had an exclusivity talk, Myungsoo has never asked Sungyeol to be monogamous no matter how much he’s wanted to, but he knows there hasn’t been anyone else in Sungyeol’s bed since that first time, and when he thinks about that, he wants to curl up against Sungyeol and weep with gratitude). It’s not that Sungyeol is modest—he and Woohyun (and sometimes Hoya) trade filthy stories and jokes all the time, and Sungyeol definitely likes to brag about how much sex he has (Myungsoo flushes red and he’s never sure whether it’s from embarrassment or pride). But the details of what happens between him and Myungsoo he keeps to himself and he barely even touches Myungsoo in public. “It’s no one else’s business,” he’d said once to a teasing Woohyun, and though his voice was casual, his eyes flashed serious.

So the first time Sungyeol kissed him in front of someone else, Myungsoo had nearly fallen over dead. Sungyeol surprises him all the time, like he’d surprised him when they came up for leave after being assigned to the Infinite but before setting out. “The parents won a trip on one of those cruise things, and Daeyeol is at school, so I’m coming home with you,” he’d announced, and Myungsoo had been so shocked he hadn’t even thought of arguing (not that he was capable of denying Sungyeol anything, but—).

Myungsoo had had a full scholarship to the Academy, but he’d still worked his way through school, saving every penny, and though he’d felt…strange handing the money over to his father, the look on his mom’s face when she saw the new four room apartment Myungsoo had paid the lease on made it all worth it. That was a couple of months before, and the rooftop room was already nothing more than a memory (Halmoni had been dead for a few years now) or else Myungsoo may have told Sungyeol no for the first time (he knew that Sungyeol had pieced together something about Myungsoo’s background from things Myungsoo had let accidentally slip, but that didn’t mean he wanted Sungyeol to confront the reality of it). But though he dreaded Sungyeol meeting his dad, he loved the idea of his sweet, quiet mother getting to see Sungyeol’s bright eyes and gummy smile, and so Sungyeol had accompanied him home.

And started acting different as soon as they walked in the door. He held Myungsoo’s arm for balance as they switched from shoes to slippers, kept a hand against the small of Myungsoo’s back as they walked through the house, an arm around his shoulder as they sat and talked with Myungsoo’s parents. Abuji had been in a good mood that day—sober and just home from work, not drunk and ranting about the way Starfleet had fucked up his life by rejecting him all those years ago. The conversation was a bit awkward on the Kim family’s side (Abuji was taciturn by nature, Umma silent by instinct after years of survival) but Sungyeol talked quickly and brightly enough to smooth everything over. Myungsoo hadn’t been able to say much of anything at all, not only because he was knotted up with terror at the thought of his father flipping into angry mode with Sungyeol around (Abuji usually kept himself under control in front of outside eyes, but there had been enough slipups over the years that it was a legitimate worry), but also because he was gobsmacked at the way Sungyeol was acting. The constant touching—a hand on his leg or fingers twined in Myungsoo’s—not to mention how Sungyeol looked at him more than he ever had before. It wasn’t even excessive, just the way people in love usually acted, and not even the most old-fashioned of ajummas would have batted an eyelash, but Sungyeol had never ever said that he loved Myungsoo so Myungsoo had no reason to think he did, and this was so much more than Sungyeol ever, ever did that Myungsoo spent the whole visit in a haze of confused love.

And then—and then there was the kissing. In front of Abuji. Never when Umma was in the room, though Sungyeol pressed a chivalrous kiss to her cheek with a grin and a wink that made her flush like a schoolgirl as he thanked her for dinner each night. But there were a few times (seven, over the course of four days, of course Myungsoo remembers exactly: numbers and Sungyeol are the two things he knows best) that he pulled Myungsoo close and kissed him long and sweet and possessive. Myungsoo hadn’t ever known Sungyeol to be either sweet or possessive (though when he fantasized, it was about Sungyeol being both of those things, even as he chastised himself for wanting Sungyeol to be something he wasn’t when he’s perfect just the way he is), but he’d barely been able to appreciate either because he was so tense because Abuji was in the room.

And then there was the bragging. Myungsoo had never dreamed that Sungyeol paid the slightest bit of attention to anything Myungsoo did that didn’t directly involved Sungyeol himself, but over the course of those four days, Myungsoo found out how wrong he was. Because Sungyeol went on and on about how smart Myungsoo was and how his professors loved him and how he had the second highest scores in their class (never once mentioning that he himself had the highest) and how hard he worked and how popular he was (Myungsoo’s pretty sure that’s not true, but no amount of protests would deter Sungyeol) and how Myungsoo was one of the youngest officers ever (“Sungyeol is, too!” Myungsoo interjected, but Sungyeol steered the conversation right back around to Myungsoo). He’d talked about all of Myungsoo’s friends and made sure to name names (and Myungsoo hadn’t realized until just then how many friends he really had, and it had been hard to believe, after a childhood with just Suji). Sungyeol had called him brilliant and amazing and handsome and all the things he’d never once said to or about Myungsoo—things Myungsoo couldn’t bring himself to believe Sungyeol really meant. The whole thing made Myungsoo’s head spin and his mother’s eyes fill with proud tears, but Sungyeol didn’t seem to notice how stony-faced Mr. Kim was at all. Sungyeol was cheerful and mannerly and polite the whole time they were there and Myungsoo had been so, so confused.

So confused that he’d had to corner Woohyun after they got aboard the Infinite and pry some information out of him (not that Woohyun ever needed to be pried; he loves to gossip more than Myungsoo’s old landlady).

Woohyun had rolled his eyes. “You really are stupid, aren’t you, Kim Myungsoo? For someone with as big a brain as yours, I don’t understand how you can never figure anything out that really matters.”

Myungsoo hadn’t really been hurt because he was used to people saying things like that to him by now and he knew Woohyun didn’t mean to be cruel—Woohyun would do anything for him, though Myungsoo doesn’t know why. He also hadn’t taken the time to explain that math and astrophysics were a very different thing than human interactions and that one was easy and the other was the most difficult thing in the universe. He’d just waited for Woohyun to elaborate.

“He wanted your parents to know how well you’re doing and that you have people who care about you,” Woohyun had obliged. “Your mom because he knows how much you love her and your dad because he hates that old son of a bitch more than he’s ever hated anyone.”

Myungsoo’s mouth had dropped open at that. “Hates—hates my—he’d never even met him before, why on earth would he hate him?”

This time Woohyun didn’t roll his eyes or say something flippant or condescending. Instead, he rested his hands on Myungsoo’s shoulders and met his eyes, level and serious. “Myungsoo. Think about what happened last time after you came back from a visit home.”

Woohyun waited patiently (despite his reputation, Woohyun really is a very patient guy) while Myungsoo sorted through memories and tried to make the appropriate connections. Then he remembered: the day after he got back from home, he’d been able to make an excuse not to have sex with Sungyeol, but the day after that, he’d forgotten to lock the door while he was showering and Sungyeol had walked right in (he had a standing invitation Myungsoo had forgotten about) and seen the bruises.

Sungyeol’s face had gone very, very still. It had scared Myungsoo, because Myungsoo was only ever used to Sungyeol’s expressiveness: no matter if he was angry or annoyed or happy or bored, it all showed so clearly on Sungyeol’s beautiful elastic face. This blankness was something brand new.

“What happened?” And Sungyeol’s voice was so blank, too, and maybe that was even scarier.

Myungsoo had gotten really good at lying over the years, at least about this one topic, but this was Sungyeol and Myungsoo was wet and naked and surprised and totally freaked out by the way Sungyeol was acting and all he could come up with was, “I fell down some stairs.”

There was a pause, long and taut with only the drip of the shower to punctuate the silence. And then Sungyeol had said, very quietly and carefully, “You said that last time.”

Oh. Oh. Last time Myungsoo had been home and had come back with bruises and they had been almost faded by the time Sungyeol finally told Myungsoo to quit fucking around and pulled him into bed. Myungsoo had said that about the stairs then, spinning an elaborate story about how he was thinking about the Kobayashi Maru and then he tripped over the landlady’s cat and tumbled down a flight of stairs and his mom had made him kimchi jjigae that night to cheer him up and—

And Sungyeol isn’t stupid at all. He was top of his class and of course he’d put it together that both times after Myungsoo returned from home he hadn’t wanted to have sex and had had bruises when they finally did and the story about the stairs and—

Sungyeol had stormed out of the bathroom and the slam of the door of Myungsoo’s dorm room had rattled the picture of Sungyeol making an owl face right off Myungsoo’s wall. Myungsoo had dried off with movements as slow and creaky as an old man’s and pulled on a ratty pair of boxers and one of Sungyeol’s shirts and climbed into bed even though it was still early.

Myungsoo hadn’t thought he’d sleep at all, but he woke up with a lurch when Sungyeol shoved him over towards the wall and he caught a glimpse of blinking green numbers that said 3:47 right before Sungyeol climbed into bed with him. His breath reeked of soju and his movements were clumsy as he stripped Myungsoo—Sungyeol was naked already. Three days would pass before Myungsoo had lunch with Woohyun and Woohyun told him that Sungyeol had dragged him out to get stark-raving drunk and then had stumbled into a fitness room and pummeled a punching bag till the thing came loose from its chain and fell to the floor. All Myungsoo knew then as Sungyeol’s shaking hands slid over every bit of his body was that Sungyeol was drunk and upset and that Myungsoo couldn’t turn him away.

It was harsh, Sungyeol’s hands sharp on Myungsoo’s skin, Sungyeol’s teeth biting into muscle, Sungyeol’s erection drilling desperately into Myungsoo, but Myungsoo didn’t complain, just pushed back because all he wanted—all he’d ever, ever wanted—was to be as close to Sungyeol as possible, even a drunk, half-crazed Sungyeol who almost scared him. “You fucker,” Sungyeol choked as he thrust into Myungsoo again and again. “You pathetic little bastard you goddamn idiot you’re bigger than him now why don’t you hit back?”

Myungsoo had been so overcome with lust and concern that it had taken him a while to make sense of that and even once he did he still didn’t understand. How could he hit back? “He’s my father.”

Sungyeol had fallen asleep with his arm tight around Myungsoo’s waist that night, something that hadn’t happened before or since, and Myungsoo had chalked it up to drunkenness—drunk Sungyeol was always a bit more clingy than sober Sungyeol.

But in that moment, with Woohyun’s eyes steady on his and the memory of Sungyeol praising him and kissing him in front of his dad vivid in his mind, Myungsoo remembered. And started to understand.

The beginnings of comprehension must have showed in Myungsoo’s eyes because Woohyun had pulled him in for a hug. “His parents weren’t really on a cruise, Myungsoo,” Woohyun said quietly as he held him, Myungsoo leaning against his warmth even as he was overcome with emotion because he had always been incapable of pulling away from any sort of affectionate touch. “He knew you’d go back no matter what and he had to make sure you didn’t go back alone. I know for a fact that while he was there he grabbed that son of a bitch and shoved him up against the wall and told him if he laid another finger on you that he’d kill him himself—and he told him that he was top of his class in his combat training.”

Myungsoo was so tangled up in emotions—from Woohyun’s hug, from trying to wrap his mind around what Sungyeol had done for him—that it took him a second before he stammered, “But Sungyeol’s combat training is in fencing.”

After a second, Woohyun started shaking against him and a half second later Myungsoo realized it was with laughter, laughter that grew and grew until Woohyun was holding on to Myungsoo to stay upright. “I know! I know it and you know it, but your dad doesn’t know it! That brilliant idiotic bastard!”

That night, curled up beside Sungyeol in Sungyeol’s bed, Myungsoo had dreamed of lying on the roof of the old rooftop room with Sungyeol beside him, the two of them breathing in sync, their breath making smoky white clouds above them in the cold air, and a still, still sky above without a hint of a star. And then of Sungyeol jumping up and running Myungsoo’s dad right through with a fencing rapier until Mr. Kim turned into nothingness and drifted away.

Sungyeol hasn’t kissed Myungsoo in front of anyone since then, but he’s doing it now, a deep, dirty kiss that makes Myungsoo’s knees go weak. He’s really too surprised to actually return it (Sungjong is right there), but he manages to hold onto Sungyeol’s jacket, the force of his grip wrinkling the uniform. He’s panting frantically and he can feel his raw lips swelling by the time Sungyeol releases him, keeping an arm around Myungsoo’s waist.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sungyeol says, sounding only a little breathless and completely casual like he didn’t just make out with his crew mate in front of someone who’s practically a stranger. “I just need this guy before I’m due on the bridge, you know how it is. Sometimes I can barely keep my hands off him, but bridge protocol has to be maintained, I guess. It’s hard, though—this kid has an ass on him like you wouldn’t believe.”

Myungsoo lets out a startled noise as Sungyeol runs a possessive hand over the curve of Myungsoo’s ass. What the fuck is going on?

“The uniforms don’t show it off to its best advantage, but trust me: greatest ass in this galaxy or any other. Can you blame me?” That last isn’t a question; it’s phrased in such a way that it won’t accept a negative answer at all, and Myungsoo can’t do anything but gape back at Sungjong (he can’t see his face for the darkness and he’s just pathetically glad because he can only imagine the look of disgust and contempt there) as Sungyeol hauls him away. “See you later, other-Lieutenant-Lee.”

They’re halfway back to Sungyeol’s quarters before Myungsoo recovers enough to find his voice. “What was that?” he demands, voice more like a croak because Sungyeol has never stopped surprising him since they first met, but this is another level of surprise all together.

Sungyeol, though, just shrugs, loose and casual. “I’m horny,” he says, like that would explain why he’s acting in a way he’s never acted before when Myungsoo knows for a fact that he’s always one of the horniest people alive.

He doesn’t get to demand more of an explanation, though, because Sungyeol shoves him into the bedroom and is on top of him before Myungsoo can get a word out and then the only things they say are Sungyeol’s typical dirty talk and Myungsoo’s typical not-actually-words and they’re barely done before Sungyeol is climbing off the bed and tugging on a fresh uniform. “Gotta be on the bridge in five, it’s poker night, enjoy your nap.”

And Myungsoo is left to simmer in his confusion and his blushing conviction that he’s lost any chance of ever being friends with Lee Sungjong.

But strangely, that doesn’t quite happen. He keeps his head down next time he sees Sungjong—in the mess that night, sitting beside Hoya and Dongwoo—but Sungjong neither glares at him in contempt nor gives him some sort of pitying look. In fact, he acts as though nothing had happened earlier at all. He talks calmly and politely through the meal—and it’s true Hoya does make him smile, because Myungsoo sees Sungjong’s grin for the first time that night and the sight is so much that he can’t think of a single thing to say for the rest of the meal.

Sungjong doesn’t show up to poker night that night, but he does the next week, and Myungsoo cringes when he walks into the officer’s lounge and sees Sungjong chatting quietly with Sunggyu. Because twice in the last week Sungyeol has managed to find situations where he was alone with Myungsoo and Sungjong and both times he’d acted completely inappropriately—grabbing Myungsoo’s crotch through his pants once in an elevator and another time sucking a hickey on Myungsoo’s neck when the three of them were alone in the lounge. Both times Myungsoo had frozen up, unable to push Sungyeol away or yell at him to stop acting like that, which he knew he should do, but the truth is that he doesn’t really mind (he never wants Sungyeol to stop touching him). He wants Sungyeol to touch him anywhere and everywhere and he wouldn’t be the slightest bit ashamed of it happening in front of someone if only he could figure out why Sungyeol is doing it.

But he doesn’t know. All he knows is that Sungjong being in the officer’s lounge with Sungyeol and all that soju is a recipe for disaster. Myungsoo keeps his eyes on his cards.

But at first nothing happens. They talk the way they usually do, catching each other up on what’s going on in their separate areas of expertise, grousing about the food and lousy pay like all soldiers everywhere, talking about the things they miss in civilian life (“Dancing,” Sungjong had volunteered, which surprised Myungsoo and excited Hoya and Dongwoo). They’d been six bottles of soju in when Myungsoo finally relaxed, thinking that maybe Sungyeol wouldn’t do anything embarrassing when their superiors were in the room—even if, when off-duty, said superiors were their hyungs who they acted stupid with all the time.

And then:

“Say, aren’t we going to be swinging by Proxima colony soon? Isn’t that the place where you go see that girl with the tentacles, Namu?” Sungyeol says casually, slinging back another sip of soju.

“The bartender? Yeah. Only woman in the galaxy who can make me sob in bed, let me tell you,” Woohyun says fondly, dealing the cards. “And I’m not a bit ashamed to admit it, it’s that good.”

“We don’t need to hear about your…conquests, Nam,” Sunggyu barks, smacking the back of Woohyun’s head. “No one wants to hear what filthy things you get up to.”

Dongwoo is laughing by this time, of course. “I don’t mind, boss.”

“Well, if you’d only surrender to the inevitable and accept the fact that you’re madly in love with me, I wouldn’t have to go to see her, hyung,” Woohyun says, sliding his hand up Sunggyu’s thigh. Sunggyu slaps his hand a way a second too late for any of them to believe his indignation.

“I’m about as in love with you as I am with Levodian flu, you disgusting disease-ridden brat.”

And that starts another round of the Sunggyu and Woohyun Show, complete with bickering and flirting and Sunggyu insisting that he’ll never, ever fall in love with Woohyun. The rest of them all laugh because they know he already has and he’s just being stubborn.

Eventually Sunggyu has enough of his money getting won by Hoya and his honor being besmirched by Woohyun and stumbles over to the couch in the corner for a nap and a giggly Dongwoo follows him to cuddle. Two minutes later they’re both snoring away and that’s when Woohyun picks up the thread of their previous conversation.

“But yeah, Yaru: the multiple eyes take a bit to get used to, but trust me: tentacles are all they’re cracked up to be. You should try that out sometime, Yeol. I know you’d enjoy it.”

Sungyeol waves a lazy hand. “I don’t need fancy tentacles or excess pheromones, not when I’ve got this boy and his ass and his mouth. Best in the galaxy.”

Myungsoo chokes so hard on his soju that it comes burning through his nose and—he swears—his tear ducts. What the fuck? Hoya raises an eyebrow in interest, and Myungsoo can’t bring himself to look at how Sungjong’s reacting.

”I’ll have to take your word about the ass thing,” Woohyun says, as though they talk about this every day (which, honestly, maybe they do—they are best friends, after all) and as though Myungsoo isn’t in the room. “But I beg to differ about his mouth. There’s this Andorian on Weytahn who—“

“Nah, Myungsoo’s better,” Sungyeol interrupts. “No doubt in my mind.”

“Really?” Woohyun says, sounding half-interested. “I would have thought you’d be better at that—your mouth is fucking huge.”

“I’ve got the mouth, but Myungsoo’s the one with the skill and enthusiasm,” Sungyeol says, and by this time Myungsoo’s cheeks are flaming so red he’s surprised the smoke alarms haven’t gone off. He catches a glimpse of a smirk—not an unkind one—on Hoya’s face and now his ears are scarlet, too. (And Sungjong is right there.)

“Lucky dog,” Woohyun says. “And he’s right here aboard ship with you and he’s a good guy.”

“Doesn’t sound like you really care about what kind of person it is, Woohyun. From what I know, you’ll do anything in the galaxy that isn’t an enemy of the Federation, you don’t care if they’re a good guy or not,” Hoya points out.

“I’ve got to take the edge off,” Woohyun retorts dismissively. “Believe it or not, I’d trade the tentacles and the multiple mouths in a microsecond if that one would ever come around,” he says, gesturing to where Sunggyu’s sleeping with his mouth wide open.

“Can’t say I understand your taste, but to each their own,” Hoya says, running his eyes over his cards. “I’m fine not being attached at the moment, but I guess eventually most people just want to find their one and only.”

“Or two and only,” Sungyeol corrects. “Or more and only. Let’s not be discriminatory against the polyamorous.”

“You know what I meant. The one or ones for you. Settle down. All that stuff.”

“I always thought that would get boring, you know? But it’s not bad, at least not if you find someone with legs like this one’s to wrap around you,” Sungyeol says, and Myungsoo has to put his head down on the table because he can’t hold it upright anymore. Sungyeol, what are you doing?

And just when Myungsoo had thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. Of course.

“What about you, other-Lieutenant-Lee?” Myungsoo can’t help but let out a little moan of humiliation, but Sungyeol just pats him on the head and continues with his questions. “You got somebody special? Want somebody? Or are you a free agent like Howon here?”

Myungsoo rolls his cheek against the cool of the poker table and peers through his fingers at Sungjong. The youngest officer has on the same calm face he’d had when they were talking about hoverball scores earlier, as though he’s completely undisturbed by the turn this conversation has taken. He takes his time answering, taking a cool sip of his soju and putting it down precisely on a coaster before speaking. “I’m focused on my career right now.”

Myungsoo can’t explain the sinking feeling in his stomach at Sungjong’s words, but he doesn’t have time to consider them because Sungyeol is leaning across the table towards Sungjong and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Not even if you found someone special, right there in front of you and waiting for you to look at them?”

Myungsoo kicks at Sungyeol’s leg—hard—but Sungyeol just bites his lip and ignores him. Sungjong, on the other hand, just shrugs. “I don’t foresee that happening anytime soon.”

Woohyun snorts. “I didn’t foresee that one,” he says, nodding his head towards Sunggyu. Dongwoo is drooling on the captain’s chest now, and Woohyun grins to see it. “And I’m pretty sure Sungyeol never saw this one coming either,” he continues, patting Myungsoo’s head just as Sungyeol did a moment before. “These things happen that way—they spring up out of nowhere and hit you upside the head, leave you dizzy and lightheaded and you don’t mind at all.”

Myungsoo has covered his eyes with his hands again, but he can tell by the tone of Sungyeol’s voice that he’s smiling devilishly. “I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say, Namu.”

“Shove it, Lee. Not all of us are completely incapable of showing our affection in any way but sex and tolerating someone’s presence like you are.”

Hoya snorts a laugh at that, and Sungyeol throws a handful of peanuts at him, and for a moment there’s chaos over Myungsoo’s still-bowed head (he sneaks another peek through his fingers and finds that Sungjong is just shaking his head at the silliness of the other three, but Myungsoo thinks he sees the slightest glint of humor in those beautiful eyes. Or maybe it’s the soju). It takes a few minutes to settle down, but when it does, Sungyeol pushes his chair back to balance on its back two legs, his own long legs dangling in the air, and points a finger at Sungjong. “Don’t be so sure, other-Lieutenant-Lee. I wouldn’t be surprised if what you want is sitting right in front of you.”

Sungjong flips his hair out of his eyes and smiles coolly—not the real smile Myungsoo has seen a couple of times . “I highly doubt it.”

Sungyeol opens his mouth to answer, but at just that moment he loses his balance and his chair tips backwards and his long limbs go everywhere and Woohyun laughs so hard that he falls out of his chair, and there’s no returning to even remotely serious conversational topics after that (eventually Myungsoo raises his head, but he avoids looking at Sungjong for the rest of the night).

Myungsoo is bent on avoiding Sungjong after that, but he seems to have lost the ability he used to have of escaping notice, because it’s the very next day that Sungjong finds him in the observation room. Myungsoo winces when he sees that now-familiar silhouette outlined in the doorway; he should have known better than to come here now that he knows Sungjong comes here a lot. But he’d heard someone saying that Sungjong was down in the engine room with Hoya and—

Sungjong doesn’t say anything as he comes into the room and settles himself down. Myungsoo stares steadily out of the viewport and tries to keep his eyes from darting to Sungjong every few minutes (he doesn’t really succeed). He’s tense, fingers twisting in his lap or hand fumbling up to rub at his Starfleet insignia, bracing himself for Sungjong to speak (to say something about how inappropriate they were last night, that he has no intention of joining the poker nights anymore, that Myungsoo is completely pathetic).

But Sungjong doesn’t say anything for the longest time, just takes in the view, and finally Myungsoo is able to relax, the silence, the nothingness soothing him until he finally sits in stillness. Again his breathing pattern falls into rhythm with Sungjong’s, and the thought creeps up on him in the stillness: maybe he doesn’t hate me now.

When Sungjong finally speaks, he keeps his voice low so as not to ripple the quiet too much.

“Hyung,” Sungjong says, and Myungsoo is so surprised to hear the word on Sungjong’s tongue for the first time (directed towards him), that it takes him a second to process what Sungjong says after that, which is, “Howon-hyung says you’re into photography. I’ve always wanted to try it—could you teach me?”

Myungsoo’s pretty sure one of this big, dorky grins that people make fun of him about is crinkling up his face as he leads Sungjong towards his room and his photography equipment, but he couldn’t care less. Sungjong wants to be my friend.

He spends a lot of time with Sungjong after that. Not as much as with Sungyeol, of course, and maybe not even as much as with Dongwoo, but he sees Sungjong far more than he does Hoya or Sunggyu, so quite a lot. And he likes every minute he spends with him. Sungjong is graceful and smart and competent and he isn’t scared of anything, and as his façade melts, Myungsoo discovers that he has a dry sense of humor, and the first time Myungsoo makes him laugh, his face creases up into the best smile ever (that isn’t Sungyeol’s gummy one) and Myungsoo sees, just for a moment, the cute, adorable maknae he’d dreamed of. Every day Sungjong thaws a little bit more, till he’s comfortable enough around Myungsoo that he becomes sassy and sharp-tongued, sarcastic and thoughtful. He still rolls his eyes at the others’ antics and he’s rarely impressed by Woohyun and Sungyeol’s more ridiculous moments, but he’s always kind to everyone and if he’s a little proud of his face and his figure, well, Myungsoo can’t blame him at all. He’s beautiful, after all.

And Myungsoo is dazzled. It reminds him of the way he feels around Sungyeol: just so, so surprised that this person is spending any time in his presence at all, but so grateful and determined to appreciate every microsecond of it and never take it for granted. Woohyun laughs at the way he shadows Sungjong (“What did I tell you about your type, Kim Myungsoo?”), but Myungsoo doesn’t care because he gets to spend time with Sungjong and he gets to spend time with Sungyeol and he gets to eat kimchi jjigae in the mess and play chess with Hoya in the lounge and get hugs from Dongwoo and watch Woohyun and Sunggyu argue and sleep in Sungyeol’s bed at night and teach Sungjong about photography and have sex with Sungyeol just about every day and write to his mom and Suji, and Myungsoo has never been so happy in all his life. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to burst with it.

There’s only one little dark spot niggling across the surface of his wonderful life: Sungjong doesn’t seem to like Sungyeol at all—in fact, he seems to try to avoid him. The only times he’s in the same room are when they’re on duty, at meals with everyone in the mess, and at poker nights. Any other time Sungyeol joins a group of a few of them—in the lounge or in the corridors—Sungjong slips away. Myungsoo doesn’t notice at first (he knows he’s not observant, but it’s hard to see things like that when he’s so busy staring from Sungyeol to Sungjong all the time), but when he does, it bothers him. He tries to arrange for them to be together more often—he’s absolutely positive they’d like each other if they got to know each other—but he’s never been good at subtle and Sungjong sees right through his attempts and only gives him an apologetic smile as he heads out of the room. Myungsoo thinks it might have something to do with how Sungyeol still touches Myungsoo—not as much as before, and only when Sungjong is looking, holding his eyes and smirking at him, but it’s still what most people would think of as inappropriate.

Myungsoo wants nothing more than for his two favorite people (two of four—he can’t forget about Umma and Suji) to get along, but it doesn’t seem to be likely to happen, so he reminds himself that he already has so much more than he’s ever dreamed of and not to be greedy (“You can’t have everything, Myungsoo,” Minha used to say back at the Academy, sitting on his bed with her long, long legs crossed and her hair falling around her shoulders so perfect—she was always so beautiful, his roommate Minha, and he liked to take pictures of her. “You want someone to give you every last bit of them, all their darkest places, not to hide anything from you or tuck anything away in corners, but, Myungsoo, that just isn’t something most people can give.” It always hurt, hearing that, though he knows she was right and she was only saying it to help him). He divides his time between Sungyeol and Sungjong and carves up the rest for the other guys and some for his time alone, and he’s almost perfectly happy.

“It was always the stars for me,” Sungjong says one day as they’re sitting in the observation room. It’s where they spend most of their time together when Myungsoo isn’t giving him photography lessons or they aren’t with the others. Both of them love it and it lets them be alone, so there’s no better place in Myungsoo’s mind. Today Sungjong’s back is against the viewport and Myungsoo is sitting closer to him than he ever has before (almost close enough to touch. But he wouldn’t do that. Partly because he knows Sungjong isn’t touchy like he and Dongwoo are. And partly because—well, because he’s scared of what will happen if he does. But he doesn’t want to think about that). “My appa got me a telescope when I was ten, and I used to stare at the sky through it and think of all the planets and moons orbiting all those stars and the different kinds of people who lived on them, all the different species with their own languages and their own cultures and their own lives, who would never, ever know I existed. That’s when I decided I wanted to join Starfleet, that night on my birthday, and I never considered anything else. I always had an ear for languages and a good memory, so I picked communications because I thought that might mean I’d get the chance to listen to the most people and hear about their lives. They told me when I applied to the Academy that I was too young and I’d never be accepted, but I would look up at the stars and want it so bad that I couldn’t stop myself from applying anyway. And I got in. And now I’m here.”

That leaves a lot out, maybe, but it tells Myungsoo so much and he doesn’t need to ask for more. He wants to reach out and take one of Sungjong’s pretty pale hands, but he doesn’t, folding his own in his lap instead.

“Stars are pretty,” he acknowledges, because he doesn’t want Sungjong to think he doesn’t like stars. He does. They’re just…not the most important. “I used to play this game, before the Academy, where I would try to draw my own starcharts, like I’d pick a planet and imagine what the view from that planet was, the stars the people there would see when they looked up at the sky and I’d make a map. And then I’d look up the real starcharts and see how close I was.”

Sungjong tilts his head in interest, the sweep of his hair brushing against the white skin of his temple. “Were you good at it?”

“Not at first. I got better, though. Now I’m really good.”

“Was that to practice so you’d get into the Academy?”

Myungsoo considers this. He hadn’t even thought of the Academy then. Starfleet was the thing that rejected his dad and turned him into a bitter, angry alcoholic. Or at least that’s what Umma said. Myungsoo always thought his father had a bit more choice in the matter than he made out. Not very many people got into the Academy, after all, and most of them didn’t end up like Abuji.

But Myungsoo had gotten in, though he’d never applied himself—one of his teachers applied for him, getting him to write essays he thought were for classes and putting him up for the scholarships he’d need to get through it. Until then, he’d never once thought about joining Starfleet himself.

But sometimes he thinks he somehow knew. Time isn’t a real thing, doesn’t actually exist, it’s just math and numbers, so maybe somehow he’d known what was going to happen—not foresight, maybe, just sight.

But he can’t say that, it doesn’t really make sense. “I liked maps,” he says instead. “And starcharts are the best kind of maps because there’s so much empty space that each little something stands out so much.”

“I never thought of it like that,” Sungjong says, resting his head against the glass. The line of his neck in the starlight is really beautiful.

“Suji says that’s probably why I’m so good at navigation—I see everything…like a negative, like I told you about with film? So I see the space between the stars, not the stars themselves. I told her that’s not how it works, that it’s just physics and reading maps and math, but she still says it.”

“Who’s Suji?”

“My best friend.” His only friend, till he went to the Academy. Most of the other kids had always thought he was too weird and shabby to pay much attention to, and even the nicer ones had been scared off by the bruises on his face. But Suji hadn’t cared. She liked him, though he could never figure out why, and though she was younger than he was, she treated him like he was the dongsaeng and she was the noona. Everything about his life now is better than it was before the Academy and there isn’t anything about his old life that he misses, except for Suji (and his mother). They try to keep in touch as much as they can, but it’s hard when he’s sailing around the galaxy and she’s back on Earth.

“I thought Sungyeol-ssi is your best friend.”

Tension creeps into Myungsoo’s fingers. He’s noticed that Sungjong doesn’t call Sungyeol ‘hyung’ yet, though he does all the other officers, preferring to refer to him more formally or by his rank. It always makes Myungsoo feel slightly sick to hear it. “He is. Him and Suji. And—and you.”

It’s dark, but he thinks Sungjong smiles at the addition tacked on at the end. That makes Myungsoo relax a little, because he hadn’t meant to say it—it just stuttered its way out and he’d been so scared for a moment, so sure Sungjong would laugh at the idea of his being Myungsoo’s best friend. But he doesn’t.

“I’m not surprised you’d have more than one best friend,” Sungjong says, and Myungsoo isn’t sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t have time to turn it over in his mind because Sungjong is still talking. “I am kind of surprised about you and Sungyeol-ssi, though.”

Myungsoo blinks. And blinks. And tries to make sense of that. And…can’t. No one has ever said anything like that about him and Sungyeol; everyone accepts them together as they accept the laws of physics.

“Wh—why?” Myungsoo says. Or at least he tries to say it; he’s not sure the actual word comes out. But Sungjong seems to understand.

“Because he doesn’t treat you very well.”

Now Myungsoo is gaping. Minha used to tease him about his open-mouthed staring, but he isn’t thinking of that he’s so shocked. Sungyeol is so good to him, so much better than he has to be. He may not love Myungsoo like Myungsoo loves him (like Myungsoo wants him to), but he’s nothing but good to him. He wants to tell Sungjong about Sungyeol going to his parents’ house and kissing him and threatening his dad, wants to tell him about Sungyeol almost crying his apologies in his ear that day in the shower. Wants to tell him about how Sungyeol sneaking the best meat at dinner into Myungsoo’s bowl when no one’s looking and how he buys him romance manhwas for no reason and how he praises all his photographs. He wants to tell him that though Sungyeol may tease him, he gets absolutely furious when he thinks someone else is teasing Myungsoo in a mean manner, and though he hates cuddling he still lets Myungsoo do it. He wants to tell him about Sungyeol getting him through his mandatory language classes in the Academy (there’s no doubt in Myungsoo’s mind that he would have failed without Sungyeol), spending hours beside him in the library going over things he got the first time he read them but that Myungsoo struggled so hard with (everyone thinks Sungyeol is impatient, but no one else knows how patient he can be when he wants to). He wants to tell him about every single little thing that Sungyeol has ever done for him and make him see how good Sungyeol is to him. Sungyeol may not do most of those things where people can see them—for all his brashness, Sungyeol isn’t showy about serious things—but he does them. Just because Sungjong doesn’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and Myungsoo desperately wants to make sure that Sungjong understands that.

But he can’t get the words out.

“It makes me angry to see—it’s clear to anyone that you adore him and you pay attention to every little thing he says and laugh so hard even when his jokes aren’t funny and you’d do anything for him, and I don’t understand it.”

Sungjong sounds annoyed as he speaks, and it’s enough to jangle the words free in Myungsoo’s mouth.

“Sungyeol is too good to me!” he insists. “He is!”

“I’m telling you,” Sungjong argues. “The way he treats you—it’s terrible.”

Myungsoo wracks his brain, going every single bit of interaction he can think of that Sungjong might possibly have interpreted the wrong way. It’s times like these that he’s most frustrated with his lack of observational skills, but the thing is, he does notice things about Sungyeol (and Sungjong), and he hasn’t noticed anything that would make Sungjong think this little of Sungyeol.

“What are you talking about?” he finally demands, more than a little desperate.

Sungjong is leaning towards him now, and Myungsoo can just make out the serious set of his face in the starlight. “He’s treating you like a sex slave, like you’re nothing more to him than a body. The way he talks about you in front of the rest of the crew—the way he touches you in public—I hate it.”

Myungsoo shakes his head, in denial, yes, but more trying to clear it. Is that what this is about? That? “He’s never done that before! He just started that—Sungyeol barely touches me in public ever, and he’s never talked to anyone about—I don’t know why he’s doing it all of the sudden, but that’s not the way things are between us—and he only does it around you.”

Myungsoo had not meant to say that last thing. He snaps his mouth shut, wanting to cover it with his hands but he can’t quite move them. Sungjong jerks back in what Myungsoo thinks might be shock, and Myungsoo feels the hint of tears sneaking up around the edges of his eyes and he just wishes the guys in his life weren’t so damn confusing all the time. Advanced astrophysics is so much easier.

“Only around—“ Sungjong echoes under his breath and then he shakes his head, speaking out loud this time. “Oh, that’s even worse—he’s marking his territory. He worried I’m trying to steal his man!”

“And why on earth would I be worried about that?”

Sungjong’s head snaps up and Myungsoo spins around so fast he almost falls over, despite being still seated. Sungyeol is lounging in the doorway again (and for once Myungsoo is so distracted he can’t even appreciate the lines of his long, lean figure), and as they turn to stare at him he pushes himself off of the doorjamb.

“Myungsoo would never cheat on me,” Sungyeol says like he would say, ‘two plus two is four.’ “And I would never cheat on him.”

Sungjong’s voice is dark. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re totally secure in your relationship. Which is why you’re crawling all over him all the time and talking about him like you just keep him around to scratch your itch.”

There’s just enough light for Myungsoo to see Sungyeol’s eyes flash. “I would never—“ Sungyeol starts furiously, but Sungjong cuts him off.

“You don’t care a thing about him—you just want to show off that you’ve got someone so amazing following you around all the time and to brag about how much sex you have.”

Myungsoo would try to wrap his mind around Sungjong calling him amazing, but by the time Sungjong finishes slinging his accusation, Sungyeol’s face has gone blank, the scary blankness Myungsoo remembers from before. He’s very still for a moment, and when he finally turns to look at Myungsoo, his voice is totally controlled in a way that makes Myungsoo want to cry. “Did I really make you feel that way?”

Myungsoo scrambles to his feet, flailing before righting himself. “No—Yeol—No!” That isn’t it at all. He doesn’t think Sungyeol thinks of him that way—the thought had never occurred to him. He’s just been so confused.

But Sungjong has shot to his feet, too, and he speaks right over Myungsoo’s protestations. “Of course you did! He’s just too sweet and doesn’t have enough self-confidence to tell you to shove off!” he hisses hotly. “And I’m not stupid enough that I haven’t figured out he’s got some serious abuse issues in his past. Of course he’d never actually say anything about it—he loves you too much!”

Sungyeol’s face is still unreadable. “And you think I’m acting like that because I’m…’marking my territory’?”

“Why else would you do it?” Sungjong demands. “Why else would you only act that way around me?”

Sungyeol continues to stare at him for a long moment, and Myungsoo holds his breath. It’s the answer to the question he’s felt pounding through him for weeks now, and he needs to know. I don’t understand, Yeollie.

And then Sungyeol throws his head back and Myungsoo thinks maybe he’s going to see Sungyeol murder their communications officer right here and now and visions of court martial are dancing through his head and then—and then Sungyeol starts to laugh. His big, deep, throaty belly laugh that he only laughs when he’s pulled off a particularly good prank or when Myungsoo has said or done something he finds truly funny. Myungsoo has even less idea of what’s going on now than he did a moment before, and he and Sungjong exchange confused (and maybe nervous) looks.

“I did it because I want to make my boyfriend happy, you idiot!” Sungyeol crows, and Myungsoo has this heartstopping moment where he thinks, Boyfriend? He has a boyfriend? And then—and then he realizes Sungyeol meant him.

Something warm is bubbling up inside Myungsoo, something warm and kind of terrified and really confused and warm. Sungyeol has never called him his boyfriend before, not once. He always just introduces him as Myungsoo or as one of his crewmates. Myungsoo hadn’t known he thought of him that way. He’d never known. He thinks his hands are shaking.

Sungjong, though, is still angry. “And talking about him like he’s just there to pleasure you and humiliating and molesting him in public are your way of making him happy?” His arms are crossed over his chest, one hip cocked, and Myungsoo has never seen such dangerous eyes.

“I was trying to seduce you, you idiot!”

And—

what????

The question fills the room till it feels like no one will be able to breathe, but neither Myungsoo or Sungjong are capable of voicing it. They’re too busy gaping at Sungyeol stupidly.

Sungyeol, still chuckling, slaps his leg. “I wanted you to see what you were missing out on! Myungsoo wants you, and I was going to get you for him!”

Myungsoo wants you. Sungyeol just said that. In front of Sungjong. Myungsoo thinks he’s going to die. His cheeks are going to heat to the temperature of a supernova and he’s going to die. “I do not!” The words come out in a strangled sort of shriek. Sungjong heard that.

Sungyeol rolls his eyes. “Yes, you do. You may not know it yet, but you do. You’ve wanted him from the beginning, I could tell. You’ve never looked at anyone the way you look at him—well, no one except me. So that was my sales pitch. Let other-Lieutenant-Lee here see what you had to offer. I didn’t think he’d be this oblivious, though—“ He turns to address Sungjong “—Are you completely incapable of seeing how fucking sexy he is? Or are you just not into guys?”

Sungyeol thinks I’m fucking sexy. He’d known that, of course, known that Sungyeol is attracted to him, that Sungyeol wants him. He’d known that, because Sungyeol’s body doesn’t lie to him and Myungsoo knows it so well by now. But there had been a little voice (that sounds suspiciously like his father’s) in the back of his mind telling him that Sungyeol was just horny and Myungsoo was easy and there and convenient and would do anything to make him happy and maybe Myungsoo wasn’t really his first choice at all. Myungsoo tries to argue with that voice sometimes at night, lying beside a snoring Sungyeol, telling it that Sungyeol hasn’t been with anyone else since they started sleeping together when he definitely could be if he wanted to. But sometimes that little voice is very insistent.

And anyway, it’s different hearing it. Hearing Sungyeol say it, out loud, and not in the defiant way he’d said good things about Myungsoo to his parents—that was about proving something. This is…this is Sungyeol saying it like it’s a fact of the universe. Like it’s a fact of his universe.

Sungjong is standing upright now, almost at attention, shoulders back and chin high and Myungsoo realizes he hasn’t seen him this closed off since his first few days on board (he’s opened up so much and I didn’t even really notice). “I know how sexy he is,” Sungjong says stiffly, and that’s something brand new: Sungjong has been cold and calm and collected, but he’s never, ever been stiff. It shocks Myungsoo so much he almost misses the words, and when he catches them, he blushes brighter than he’s ever blushed before. Sungjong thinks I’m sexy, too. “I know that he’s brilliant and funny and kind. But he’s with you,” Sungjong continues, and Myungsoo thinks maybe he hears disdain in that bit.

“Yeah, he’s with me,” Sungyeol says with a sharp nod that may be proud. “He’s with me and he will be as long as he wants to be. But he could be with you too.”

That’s just…too much for Myungsoo. The thought of Sungjong, too (of both of them, both of his dazzling brilliant boys, having both of them) is enough all on its own to overload his brain, but then there’s the fact that Sungyeol just basically promised him forever in a way that made it seem like he took it for granted (Sungyeol has to know that Myungsoo wants to be with him forever, so if he said ‘as long as he wants to be…’).

Myungsoo sits down on the floor. Hard.

“Oh, so you were offering me to him like a treat to keep a puppy happy, is that it? What makes you think I’d want to play second-fiddle to you? Have you rub it in my face all the time that you’re the one he wants for good? I just get him in my bed sometimes when you’re feeling generous?”

Myungsoo sternly informs his mind to stop spinning like a carousel. He wants off.

“You just have to think the worst of me, don’t you? I think your assumptions say more about you than they do me, though. I was inviting you to our bed, for as long as Myungsoo wanted you there. No matter how long that is. I want him to be happy.”

Myungsoo’s mind does not seem to be listening to him. And neither do his shaking hands.

“Oh, so you were going to put up with my presence to keep your boyfriend happy? What a hardship, having Sungjong there, too. Aren’t you just a martyr?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said about your assumptions? I happen to think you’re sexy, too, or at least I did until this fucking stupid conversation. I was inviting you on equal footing, you ass!”

“Yeah, you were inviting! You make assumptions, too! You didn’t even tell him that’s what you were doing, you just assumed he’d want it, too!”

Something’s bubbling inside Myungsoo again, but it’s not warm this time—it’s hot. Boiling hot.

“I know him well enough that I can do that! We’ve been together for years now, and trust me, I can tell when he wants another man!”

“But did you ever ask him what he wants?”

“I don’t want either one of you right now!”

The words explode out of him with more force than a photon torpedo, yanking him to his feet. The two of them turn to stare at him like they’d forgotten completely that he was even in the room, and the identical looks of shock on their face would be funny if Myungsoo weren’t so mad. It’s a scary feeling, being this angry, and he’s never felt it before. Through his whole life, every time he felt anger, he shoved it away or turned it into something else. Anger was bad—anger drew attention to you—anger ended in screams and blows and bruises. Myungsoo didn’t want anger anywhere near him (he’d had it far, far too close for far, far too long).

But right now he’s angry. Angry at these two men he loves so much he doesn’t know how he holds the volume of that love. And he does love them—both of them, so much: Sungyeol with a love that’s come through years of companionship and grown into something unshakable, Sungjong with the fervency of something newly-discovered with so much promise in its future. He loves them more than he thinks is normal for a human being, but right now he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

“You’re talking about me like I’m not here! Like I’m not a person—or like I’m a little baby or something!”

Myungsoo has never shouted like this before. He’s shouted in excitement, in pleasure, at hoverball games and graduations, at noraebangs and in bed. But he’s never shouted in anger.

“Sungyeol, you can’t just decide what I want and try to get someone into our bed without even talking to me about it!” It’s irrelevant, really, that Sungyeol was right and that Myungsoo does indeed want Sungjong and that he’d jump at the chance to get him into their bed. Sungyeol hadn’t talked to him.

“Sungjong, you don’t get to tell me how I should feel about things! You don’t get to tell me I have to feel violated by how Sungyeol treats me—only I get to decide that!” And he hadn’t felt violated. Confused and now angry, but not violated. He knows what violation is, and Sungyeol hasn’t done that to him (he knows for a fact that if he had ever told Sungyeol to stop, Sungyeol would have done it instantly, but he hadn’t wanted Sungyeol to stop), even if he has acted like an ass.

“And you both don’t get to fight over me like I don’t have any say in this at all! I get to decide what I want and who I want and how I feel, and you don’t get to tell me! So just—just stay away from me!”

Myungsoo may actually stamp his foot in his fury, but he tries to pretend he didn’t because that’s a childish thing to do and he’s sick of them making him feel like he’s a child. He’s got simple desires and a simple outlook on the world and he’s been abused—yes, he can admit to himself—and smacked around for years. But that doesn’t mean he’s a child, and he’s definitely not going to be with anyone who thinks he is one.

His anger is pumping through his veins, thick and frothy, and it’s so intense that he doesn’t even see the humor when both of them reach out to him at the same time, say his name in the exact same pleading tone. He just spins around and hurls himself out of the room, leaving both of them in the starlight.

For a while he’s so angry he doesn’t want to be around anyone. The newness and intensity of the emotion startle him so much that he needs to be alone for a while. He’s off-duty for the next twenty-four hours anyways, so he holes up in his room for the first eighteen or so of them, and once he’s finally settled down, he goes to find Dongwoo.

Dongwoo’s not in sickbay, Nurse Nana informs him before trying to take his temperature (“Your cheeks are so flushed, Myungsoo-ah!”), so Myungsoo goes and pounds on his door. He has to do it for a while because Dongwoo is a sound sleeper (and has hence been the subject of many of Sungyeol’s pranks), but eventually Dongwoo opens the door, bleary-eyed and barely conscious—at least until he gets a good luck at Myungsoo. Then he’s totally awake and pulling Myungsoo into the room.

But Dongwoo somehow always, always knows what other people need, so he doesn’t make Myungsoo talk about it. He pops in a movie and pulls Myungsoo down on the bed beside him and wraps his arms around him. Eventually Dongwoo’s laughter at the film and all the cuddling chip away at Myungsoo’s anger till he can laugh just a little bit, too. They fall asleep all tangled up together and when they wake up, Dongwoo has to go back to sickbay. But he sends him on his way with a, “If you ever want to talk about it, you know I’m here,” and even though Myungsoo still doesn’t want to talk about it yet, it feels good to hear the words.

He sulks through the next few days, spending all his spare time either alone or cuddled up with Dongwoo somewhere, and when he’s on the bridge with Sungyeol or Sungjong, he doesn’t look at them at all. Sunggyu seems slightly bewildered by this change in Myungsoo’s behavior, but Woohyun just looks him over with understanding eyes and slings his arm around him when they leave the bridge. “If you want me to beat them up for you, I totally will.”

“Beat who up?” Sunggyu asks, coming up behind them. Sungjong and Sungyeol had both scurried off as soon as their shift was up. “You’re not allowed to beat up any of my crew unless I say so. I’m the captain!”

“The Lieutenant Lees, of course,” Woohyun answers, ignoring Sunggyu’s other statements.

“Why would Myungsoo want you to beat them up?”

“Oh my God, hyung, don’t you pay attention to anything that happens on your ship at all? They’re both in love with Myungsoo and Myungsoo’s in love with both of them and they totally fucked it up. Keep up, man!”

Sunggyu’s mouth drops open and he blinks in surprise, and by this time Myungsoo’s anger has eased just enough to find it funny. He laughs a little as Woohyun reaches over and physically shuts Sunggyu’s mouth for him. “You look like a dying hamster, hyung. It is not an attractive look, even for those of us most inclined to find you attractive.”

“But what did they do?” Sunggyu demands finally, and Woohyun winces, which catches Myungsoo’s attention.

“Well, I’m not sure about Sungjong, but Sungyeol may have not have pulled off his plan to lure Sungjong into bed with him and Myungsoo.”

Sunggyu stares again for a moment, and then he shakes his head. “I don’t even want to know,” he mutters, walking off. “This is why I try to ignore everything that happens on this goddamn ship….”

After checking out Sunggyu’s ass as he walks away, Woohyun turns back to Myungsoo. “Uh, I guess I should say sorry about the whole ‘seduce Sungjong into bed’ thing.”

Myungsoo’s confused again. “You? Why?”

“It…might have been my idea?”

“What?”

Woohyun shrugs a bit uncomfortably. “Well, Sungyeol knew you wanted Sungjong but he also knew you’d never cheat on him. He thought it would be a good idea to see if Sungjong was interested in joining you, and I…may have suggested he try the seduction route. I’m really sorry, Myung, I didn’t mean to piss you off. I thought you’d be happy—I need to remember that not everybody thinks like Yeol and I do. I really am sorry.”

Woohyun looks so ashamed of himself that Myungsoo has to hug him. “It’s okay, hyung. It wasn’t the seduction thing that made me angry.”

Woohyun cocks his head at him. “No? Then what was it?”

“He didn’t ask me about it.”

“Oh. Oh!” Woohyun’s face clears instantly. “That wasn’t my idea—I didn’t tell him not to tell you, so I guess it wasn’t my fault after all!”

Myungsoo laughs. “Anyway, Sungyeol was the one who decided to listen to you, and if he was going to do that after seeing how hard you fail with Sunggyu-hyung, then he’s an idiot who’s gotten what he deserves.”

Woohyun pretends to be offended and keeps up the front the whole way to the mess, making Myungsoo really laugh for the first time in days (since he last talked to Sungyeol and Sungjong). After they eat together with Hoya, though, he sobers and puts his hand on Myungsoo’s shoulder. “It’s okay to be angry. I know you aren’t angry often and Dongwoo says he thinks it freaked you out a little, but it is okay to be mad when someone does something wrong to you. As long as you don’t hurt anyone or yourself in your anger, it really is okay, Myung.”

Myungsoo hadn’t really thought of it like that. In his world, anger has always equaled uncontrollable rage which equaled violence. Umma never got angry and Myungsoo learned not to, so the only anger he ever really saw was his father’s. It’s weird thinking that it was the way he acted, not his anger, that was the problem. He thinks about that a lot over the next few days as Woohyun and Dongwoo spoil him and Sunggyu lets him spend lots of time in his office and even tries to awkwardly comfort him and Hoya makes him laugh.

He misses Sungyeol and Sungjong, though. A lot. They were wrong, but everybody’s wrong sometimes, and Myungsoo doesn’t have the ability to hold a grudge against those he loves. It’s just not in him. So his anger passes as a few days do, too. The only problem is that it’s embarrassment that takes its place. Every time he thinks of the conversation—the fight—in the observation room, he blushes and wants to make sure that neither Sungyeol nor Sungjong ever see him again. He misses them so much, but he can’t go to them, no matter how much he wants them. He just can’t.

When he rouses from half-sleep to find Sungyeol slipping into bed beside him, Myungsoo almost weeps with relief. It’s been way, way too long since he’s talked to Sungyeol, since he’s looked at Sungyeol, since Sungyeol has touched him, longer than he’s gone at any point since they first got together, and Myungsoo has hated the distance between them. He’s barely slept at all since the fight, and he’s just so tired. He’d ached for Sungyeol (for Sungjong), but he just couldn’t bring himself to reach out first.

But now Sungyeol is here, and his arms are sliding around Myungsoo, and Sungyeol doesn’t hold him except when they’re having sex, but they both still have their clothes on and Sungyeol is burying his face in Myungsoo’s shoulder and—

“I’m sorry,” he groans, and he sounds just as tired as Myungsoo feels, a weariness to the bone. “I am. That was fucking stupid—you were right to be angry, I should have talked to you first.”

Myungsoo feels tears pricking at his eyes—tears of exhaustion, tears of relief (tears of love)—and burrows further into Sungyeol’s arms. “You didn’t talk to me.”

Sungyeol’s hand is sweeping down his back, and Sungyeol’s hand does that a lot, but this time it’s all about comfort, not about sex at all. “I know. I know. I won’t do that again, Myung, I promise.”

Myungsoo stays pressed up against Sungyeol for as long as he can, nose tucked against Sungyeol’s collarbone, breathing in his scent he’s missed so much. Eventually (it takes much longer than Myungsoo would have thought), Sungyeol starts to squirm and though he doesn’t say anything, Myungsoo knows he’s reached the end of his cuddle tolerance. He unwinds his arms from around Sungyeol and Sungyeol sighs and flips over onto his back beside him. But Myungsoo is Myungsoo, and he can’t quite bear to let go yet, so he takes Sungyeol’s hand (Sungyeol doesn’t pull away).

“I’m not like you,” Sungyeol says into the darkness. He sounds defeated. It makes Myungsoo’s heart hurt. “I’m not good at telling you that I—I’m not good at showing it, either, and I thought—“ He stops, tripping over his words and groans in frustration, mopping a hand over his face. “I’m so fucking bad at this!” He lets out a quiet shout and kicks his the heels of his feet against the mattress. “I want you to be happy! That’s what I want, and I thought he’d make you—“

Myungsoo has been holding his breath through Sungyeol’s garbled attempts at soul-baring, thinking that maybe if he doesn’t breath that Sungyeol will be able to get it out. But that isn’t Sungyeol. He doesn’t show his love through pet names and confessions of devotion and public displays of affection. But Myungsoo knows that love is there, he’s learned to see it in what Sungyeol does show: his actions. Even misguided ones. Myungsoo squeezes his hand, to let him know that he doesn’t have to strain himself. Myungsoo knows.

But Sungyeol apparently still wants to try. He pounds his fist against the mattress and starts again. “I like you here, okay?” He still sounds so frustrated, and Myungsoo thinks that maybe most people wouldn’t when they were trying to tell someone what they mean to them, but this is Sungyeol. And Myungsoo really, really loves Sungyeol. “I like—I like us. I want us to—to always be like this.”

Myungsoo hides his face against Sungyeol’s shoulder, sure that his grin is going to rip his face right in half if Sungyeol doesn’t hold him together. It’s more affection that Sungyeol usually permits once cuddle-time is officially over, but after a moment, Myungsoo feels Sungyeol’s fingers in his hair.

“I want us to be like this,” Sungyeol continues, still just the slightest bit impatient with himself. “And if you want Sungjong like this, too, that’s okay with me. As long as I still have you like this, too, that’s okay with me.” He pauses. “I can put up with him. I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought he’s sexy.”

Myungsoo snorts a laugh into Sungyeol’s shoulder and Sungyeol laughs, too. Myungsoo doesn’t tell him that he thinks Sungyeol won’t have to ‘put up with him’ for very long. Myungsoo’s probably not the most clear-sighted on this particular topic, but he doesn’t think he’s totally wrong that Sungyeol and Sungjong will really get along once they get to know each other. He thinks of all the things he can get them to do together, all the things they can talk about, all the ways they can fall for each other, until he slips into sleep.

Myungsoo sleeps really well.

Making up with Sungyeol gives Myungsoo enough courage (happiness) to seek out Sungjong. He finds him in the observation room, of course, and Sungjong scrambles to his feet (in the most ungainly motion Myungsoo has ever seen from him) as soon as Myungsoo appears, like he’s been waiting for Myungsoo’s arrival (Myungsoo thinks he probably has).

“Hyung, I’m sorry, I was just…I was jealous of Sungyeol-hyung and I just hated the thought of anyone making you feel uncomfortable and—“

Myungsoo doesn’t need to hear it; he already knows. So he just walks up to Sungjong and kisses him for the first time in the half-dark of starlight.

It takes a couple more days to work around their schedules, but a few nights later, Myungsoo is sitting cross-legged on Sungyeol’s bed in his pajamas, writing a letter to Suji when the door opens and Sungyeol appears, dragging Sungjong behind him.

“We’re doing this now,” Sungyeol announces, then grins sheepishly. “Everybody agree?”

It’s almost too much for Myungsoo to take in, both of them, and they love him and they’re choosing him and they’re both so unbelievably beautiful and there’s so much gorgeous pale skin and their scents are so different but go so perfectly together and he has both of them and—

“Breathe,” Sungjong whispers. “It’s okay, it really is.” He takes Myungsoo’s trembling hands in his (his beautiful hands), and Sungyeol presses against Myungsoo’s bare back.

“We have all the time in the universe,” Sungyeol says, breath warm against Myungsoo’s neck, and the two of them wrap themselves around him, keeping him warm and surrounded until he stops his trembling and can breathe normally again. (Both of them.)

It takes some fumbling and some negotiating and bumping elbows when there seems to be too many limbs, but eventually they work something out and then it’s so, so, so good. Better than it ever was with just him and Sungyeol—maybe not the sex itself (because they have some awkwardness to work through since none of them are used to three in one bed), but just the fact that it’s the three of them. Just knowing that, that he gets both of them, makes it better than anything else could possibly ever be.

They touch him so differently—Sungyeol with the assured confidence of an old lover who knows each and every detail of what Myungsoo likes, Sungjong with the joyful newness of discovery. Myungsoo would never be able to pick what he likes best—he likes them both and he likes touching them just as much. And though he doesn’t ever actually say it, they manage to figure out that he really wants to see them touch each other and if their kisses are a little too competitive at first, it’s still so hot (and beautiful—seeing the men he loves kiss and touch each other) that Myungsoo is overcome.

Afterwards, he lies between them, Sungjong’s arm around his waist, Sungyeol giving off heat beside him, his body wrung-out and aching and still tingling in pleasure all at the same time. He thinks of how beautiful they are, brilliant and shining, Sungyeol so joyful and uninhibited and honest, Sungjong so fierce and confident and fearless. He feels very dull beside them, between them; he doesn’t glow nearly as bright.

But they don’t seem to care. They love him for reasons and in ways he’ll never be able to let himself believe, but they do. Even if Sungyeol hadn’t rasped it against his ears earlier as he pushed inside him, even if Sungjong hadn’t said it quietly but surely a few days ago after their first kiss, Myungsoo knows. And maybe the ones that shine the brightest need a safe and steady darkness to rest against. Maybe he can be that for them.

As he sinks into sleep, he thinks maybe time becomes irrelevant and he catches a glimpse of a future-that-is-now where one day he turns a corner and sees that Sungyeol has Sungjong pushed up against a bulkhead as they kiss furiously, Sungyeol’s beautiful long fingers in Sungjong’s hair, Sungjong’s beautiful elegant hands on Sungyeol’s waist. And dream-now-future-Myungsoo thinks he should maybe be jealous or hurt or something (thinks maybe he once would have been), but somehow he isn’t at all. He’s just so, so happy to see them like this, especially when they pull back and Sungyeol says something low and snarky and Sungjong puffs a laugh even as he rolls his eyes and pulls Sungyeol closer. Dream-now-future-Myungsoo’s hand steals up to his chest and presses against the place where he’s aching with happiness, the silence swaddling the beating of his heart.