Burning Desire

Praxis knows that him having a problem with his navigator is bad. Really bad. Maybe he should at least try but just the thought of Abel has him tingling all over.

He lays in bed one night, on the bottom bunk, and he shuts his eyes and Ethos stirs on the top bunk and climbs down. The blond stands right where the ladder is for a few moments and then slips on his shoes and his uniform jacket and out the door.

Praxis turns his head to look at the door sliding shut and once closed, he himself gets up and shakes the sleep out of his eyes.

Memories from just that day flood back...

He finds Ethos working hard on something on a small computer. The blond turns around.

"Praxis!"

Said male avoid eye contact and looks down. "I was wondering if... you needed a hand?"

Ethos feels his heart swell up with hope, but when Praxis doesn't make eye contact, it deflates with disappointment.

"It's okay, I mean, I'm sure Abel might also need help if you'd rather..." Ethos knows the drill, happy-him and sad-about-Abel Praxis will have these conversations as their bonding talks and then Praxis will go off to look at Abel do something.

Praxis puts his hand of Ethos' shoulder and Ethos perks up. There is fire in the touch, and both him and Praxis can feel it.

"No... you're the one I want to help."

Shock. Ethos can't move. He can't speak. Praxis wants to help.. him? Praxis is voluntarily wanting to fix their bond? With Ethos?

Ethos states up at Praxis, his hands limb at his sides and Praxis finally looks back.

"Oh -- um, sure."

Ethos instructs him to wait, and types furiously on his screen, crawls up in the Tiberius and pokes his head out.

"Hit enter for me, Praxis?" He calls and Praxis does it straight away.

Ethos goes on working, Praxis doing as told. He finds the way Ethos works to be something different. Something unlike what Abel did with Cain. Soon enough, the ship is ready for the launch and Ethos steps out. "You know," he lands with a grunt, "I know that we aren't on the first line but, every time that alarm rings, I always get a little scared."

First hint of emotion and Praxis feels a little confused. Casual conversation? After months of neglect and cold stares, Ethos wants conversation?

"Everyone here has got that. No one wants to die."

Ethos grins. "Maybe, but Cain rushes out like an animal."

Praxis reaches out and ruffles Ethos' hair. Fingers momentarily stay in the blond locks before pulling out. Praxis gives a small smile. "Yeah, I guess, maybe."

It's then that Praxis fully wakes up and stands. His feet curl into the small rug, and he slips on socks and his boots, not bothering with his jacket. Stepping out, he turns right, and goes wherever it takes him. The navigators that are out at night smoke heavily, and Praxis breaths in the smoke and exhales whatever sleep that was slowing him down.

Turning a corner, he finds the door leading to the observation deck. Walking in, Praxis shuts his eyes and stops. The stars are bright against the black of space. Ethos stands alone in the very far left corner, writing a few things in the portable notebook that glows bright blue in the dimly lit place. His fingers type on the translucent keyboard, and his eyes are bright in the reflection of the screen.

"You come here every night?" Being the only two people in the room, Praxis' voice echoes. Ethos jumps, exits the tab he was typing on and shoves the Port, that had now shrunk to the size of his thumb, into his pocket.

"Uh, y-yeah." Ethos sweats and stands. Regaining himself, he rubs his shoulders. "Sometimes it helps me calm down."

Praxis walks over, and Ethos leans against the railing stopping anyone from leaning against the glass. Praxis is close, Ethos is close.

Reaching up a hand, Praxis brushes his thumb over Ethos' brow. "I'm sorry, Ethos." He says. Usually, Praxis is bitter, shoving thoughts into his own head that were only filled with Abel and how much Praxis wanted to intertwine his fingers with him. Now, Ethos is right in front of him. Always has been, Praxis thinks. Always will be.

"You don't have to be sorry. I'm used to be a second choice. I went into Replacement Navigators because I always felt like being second was who I was." Ethos grins and pushes away Praxis' hand and rubs up his forearm. "I just... just didn't expect it to be this hard."

Things are slow. Praxis reaches up one hand, cups Ethos' face and turns the Navigator's body so Praxis can press his chest into his back.

"You pinned after me, Ethos," he grumbles, voice so low, heavy with sleep. "I gave up on you. I was an idiot."

Ethos bows his head, shoulders broadening. "You were caught up with this new deporting. It's okay."

Lips meet skin, and Ethos gasps as Praxis kisses the nape of his neck. "You'll never compare to him," he murmurs.

Ethos spins around, Praxis furrows his eyes shut and then opens them. "We need sleep."

Ethos guides them both back to the room. Praxis sheds his boots and socks whilst Ethos just his jacket.

"Lay with me, Ethos." Praxis says, reaching for the top bunk so he can bring down the pillow for Ethos. "It's fine, I'm not going to hit you."

"You get woozy when you don't sleep, don't you." Ethos says nervously. "I'm not sure that when you wake up you'll want me next to you."

Praxis also grabs the other blanket, lays down on the bottom bunk and pats the mattress. "Only for a night, right?"

Ethos slips off his boots and his socks. Still he hesitates. "I don't really want to --"

"If you don't fall asleep in fifteen minutes, you can take your stuff and sleep on your own bunk, okay? Make you feel better, princess?"

There is that insult that makes Ethos relax. His knees wobble as he makes his way over to Praxis and slips underneath the covers. Praxis slips an arm around his waist, and pulls in Ethos. It's warm. The lights are off. It's rhythmic how many times Praxis breathes in, breathes out. How fast Ethos can hear his own heartbeat.

He falls sleep to how many thoughts he can fit in his brain on how many miles an hour he wants to make Praxis' heart beat for him. How he can fall so deeply in love for a man that fights Aliens. For a man who sleeps with his eye patch on. For a man who forgets to even just watch his step and trips over things when walking back to the ship.

He wakes up and Praxis is gone.