Blue ain't your colour (It is mine)

5

The next evening was the first free evening Adam had had in ages. He didn't mind the lack of sleep, as Chance well knew, so he usually got the late shift as well as the early one. He was determined to enjoy this rare exception. As they smoothly wrapped up the afternoon shift, he invited Austin for the evening for a couple of drinks. 

"You gotta hear Timmy here sing," he added before Austin had an opportunity to refuse. "I can't believe you've been on this ship for almost a month now and still don't know the force of nature that his singing voice can be." He saw Tim flipping him off from the corner of his eye.
"Have you ever heard Adam say so many words in one go?" the bass whispered to Rob. "Nope," the other man replied cheerfully. "They seem to be good for each other, if you ask me."
Adam serenely turned his back on his two friends and proceeded to completely ignore them.
"So? What do you say?" he prompted Austin.
"I mean, ... I guess? If you want to?" Austin offered, flustered and uncertain.
"I would be happy to," Adam returned without missing a beat. "See you at eight in the restaurant!"

They met at the same table Austin had occupied the day before. Adam ordered drinks. Austin was sticking with a coke, but Adam laced his own with a generous helping of rum. Tonight was an occasion for celebration.
For a while, they were just leaning back in the comfortable chairs, watching in companionable silence as more guests slowly filtered in and Chance and Tim got the stage ready. "That's the tenth time," Adam commented idly as Tim got his foot caught on a piece of loose tape and wire and nearly tripped. He was surprised to hear Austin giggle. "He doesn't learn?"
"Nope. Never." Both laughed. Chance looked over to their corner – and tripped in the same place.
"That's a first."
"I guessed," Austin said. "Chance usually seems so smooth and organized."
Adam agreed. "Can't fuck with Chance." He thought about it a while and added "Take that literally and metaphorically." Austin nearly spit out his drink. He coughed, slightly embarrassed. "O-okay then."
Adam chuckled quietly. "Get used to shit like that. Once the team gets to know you better, they are worse than me. 'Cause I don't talk as much as them."
"Really? They, um, they seem nice so far..."
"Nice, sure," Adam agreed with a fond smile. "But they are also some of the biggest idiots I ever had the fortune of working with, believe me. Take, Tim, for example. He's such a troll, you wouldn't believe..."
When Chance took another glance at the two guys in their corner, they were immersed in conversation. Adam was gesticulating animatedly as he relayed a story of the team's antics. Austin was laughing, throwing in comments, and seemed to have forgotten his reserve and insecurities for the evening. The melody of his unrestrained, happy laughter was sending chills down Adam's back, but nobody needed to know that. So he kept talking, smiled until his face started hurting, ordered another drink or two and fully enjoyed Austin's awestruck expression when Tim started singing and went for all the low notes. The evening was just perfect, hours flying by. Before he knew it, it was time to tidy up and close the restaurant for the night. He hummed cheerful songs to himself and all but skipped back to the kitchen with his and Austin's empty glasses.
Bidding the others goodnight with a nod and a little wave, he returned back to Austin, who was waiting near the door. "Dunno about you, but I think it was a great night. Thanks for your company!"
"I, er, I think so too? Thanks for inviting me," Austin smiled shyly but with sincerity.
"Not a problem at all." Adam shot him a broad smile, gave him a quick hug and left for his quarters, humming under his breath and with a spring in his step.

Later that night, he climbed up to his usual spot on the highest deck and happily flopped down against the railing, head turned towards the vast black sky. He still felt the warmth of good music, cheer and a measured amount of rum running through his veins. It made him giddy and restless, wanting to embrace the whole world. He extended his arms to the sky, laughter on his lips in memory of the evening, and began drawing flowers of ice into the thin air, onto the surface of the clouds, in spiraling patters around the railings and branching out to the wooden planks of the deck. Glittering flakes rained down around him, prompting him to get up and join their slow dance, ice and clear coldness flowing through him with more ease than ever before. When he was done, moonlight was breaking through the clouds and colouring the world around him in a thousand shades of frozen blue. With a soft smile, he stretched out one hand and called the ice back to himself. It turned into thins strands of mist with a gentle hiss and dispersed in the mild breeze. Then, he sank to his knees, shaking his head in disbelief. "I am drunk," he whispered, laughing quietly to himself. "When did that happen before?" He buried his face in his hands, still laughing. "Well, that was a night, wasn't it just?"