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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4


Khcenac and Several of his Relationships

Part 1 - Atchki & Matt

Khcenac part 1

The music began, and Khcenac danced around his kitchen in serenity.

This was a modern recording of a not-so-modern classical human tune, swelling throughout the small habitation pod, in rambunctious defiance from what other members of his species might tend to listen to. Vox were not inventors nor players of such beautiful tunes, but Khcenac nonetheless danced to and fro as if it were his element all along. He snatched up a couple of eggs from the fridge, cracked them one-handed, and dumped their contents effortlessly into the biggest non-stick he owned.

In times past, one might look at a Vox and rightly assume that they could only enjoy such orchestra incidentally, and that they could only pronounce 'Bach' by following it up with two involuntary 'bok's. Many scholars across the ages have struggled to describe these strange creatures with any degree of accuracy, in spite of their rapid proliferation across human-controlled space. Vox were certainly sapient, of some variety humanoid, but landed someplace across a spectrum between vulture and velociraptor. Were one to know only this, it would be utterly surprising to see one frolicking across his kitchen, not a care in the world.

This particular specimen, a Shaft Miner with mangy green quills, dull short beak, and a disfigured, half-missing tail, was having a lovely morning, thank you very much, and amidst his high-on-life demeanor he was cooking up a meal for two. Space English muffins were already buttered, hollandaise was already made, and he'd finished roasting tomatoes over the hotplate mere minutes ago.

His train of thought was interrupted by the lovely crackle of cooking eggs! It was all down to timing, now. Were he a lesser bird- oh, what a jest!- he might overcook them, but he knew just the timing for this particular pan, and for this particular setting on the hotplate. A few moments swishing around the pan for heat, salt and pepper twinkled from above, and Khcenac began to plate. He slid still-warm roast tomato slices on the Space English muffins, one plate for each, poured the runny eggs on top from the pan, and finally began drizzling hollandaise above. Two little towers of love. A little sprinkle of basil on top of each, a cup of coffee to go beside the plates, and breakfast was finally ready.

The symphony swelled with a glorious some-kind-of-chord to some-kind-of-chord in lovely string and horn harmony. In the little pod, there was enough room to fit a teensy two-person dining table he'd bought from SKEA and little else. Khcenac plopped into a fold-up chair backed up into the corner, and fawned over this far-away tune, which had enough energy so as to wake him up on its own-- even if he didn't have a piping-hot cup of coffee to go with it! The morning had gone all according to plan, thus far, and all he had left to do was wait for his boyfriend to awaken.

It didn't feel long at all, though this was perhaps more a symptom of Khcenac's morning optimism. The bedroom's door slid open, and out lurched another Vox, his workmate, in pyjamas that struggled to stay taut around his generously buff form. This was Atchki, who was a head taller than Khcen, had murky copper-colored feather-quills that had seen the inside of an iron mine once too many times, and still possessed an entirely-intact tail. He paused in the entrance to rub his eyes and scratch his head, before finally mumbling in an uncomfortable dialect of Tradeband, "...You, mm. You ready to go?"

"Ah, yes, my love!" Khcenac's spoken form of Tradeband was lovely, smooth, a purple landscape of possibility. He loved the language to death, perhaps as much as he loved his partner. "Ready at a moment's notice. Of course, I prepared a little human-style breakfast and brunch that ought to keep you nice and fortified all day, that we may share together for--"

The larger Vox leaned over the table, took the coffee from his side, and started gulping it down wordlessly. Khcenac sat further into the chair, a little dejected. "...Would you care to sit, ah?"

"Shift starts in fifteen minutes, Khcen," Atchki said, finally setting the coffee back down once it was completely emptied. "I'll eat some donk pockets or somethin' once we're on Luna."

"W-Well, I suppose I didn't spot the time in my joyous routine, ha." Khcenac chuckled softly to himself, then shrugged without a care. "I don't see any particular reason we shouldn't take the moment to ourselves anyhow. Nanotrasen's not so particular about a few minutes extra spent having quality time with the love of our lives." He rested his head in his hands, looking lovingly at Atchki.

In response, the gruff bird grunted. "Really not feelin' getting chewed out by the QM again. He'll throw us on 'roid duty." He stepped over to the rest of the habitation pod, retrieved his Vox-shaped softsuit from a clothing hook, and started to slip it on his half-naked body.

Khcenac's expression was rapidly drooping. "You really, ah... aren't certain about a moment spent in the comfort of each other's space together?"

In response, Atchki caved a little. "Maybe after our shift, eh? C'mon, or I'm leavin' without you." He was already at the door.

To this, Khcenac got up, sulking a good bit. He got suited up himself, and tried to snack a little, before realizing he wasn't all that hungry. He wrapped the plate of eggs benedict and opened the fridge to sit it inside. There were a half-dozen plates of leftovers exactly like it. He found an open spot for the plate somewhere in the back, headed to the door with Atchki, and followed him out.

Unlike one of the smaller on-board dorm rooms, the habitation pod was a little, slightly rounded container suspended in space with a long chute connecting it to Luna Station proper. The pods were, surprisingly, owned by the employees, at least insofar as they could move it (with help from a space taxi) to dock somewhere else. Gravity ceased once they exited their nitrogen-cycling airlock into the chute, which was a two-lane gravshaft designed to get crew back to the station from their little privacy. Atchki shot himself down at a steady speed, while Khcenac struggled to put on his bubble helmet as the shaft propelled them forth. He was hoping for a little more quiet time in the morning, a little more stargazing and hand-holding, but he supposed that NT called, and it was the right idea to forego all that, sometimes.

...or, most of the time, as it turned out.

They landed and started hurrying through the halls. Luna Station wasn't oversized, per se, but it was lengthy enough from Arrivals to Cargo that they'd be cutting the deadline close. Khcenac tried to motivate himself to be anything but ponderous. Someday, he'd love to just let himself show up late to work.

Atchki swiped both of their badges to clock them in at 11:59 Station Time-- just a minute early. He let out a little sigh of relief. "He ain't raisin' hell today," the bird chuckled.

"Oh, I'm certain he'll circumnavigate himself to some frustration with us," Khcenac joked.

Since the Quartermaster's escapade with heading a revolution, he'd been more cranky than he had any right to be. The two Vox chose to skirt by around most of Cargo and just snatch a shuttle down.

Once on the Moon proper, life became a little more simple. Atchki downed plenty of coffee and hyperzine in the outpost, transforming a rather languorous bird into one with some hefty, muscular energy. The stimulants finally made him hungry, and he downed breakfast at last, a couple of boxes full of meaty donk pockets still cold. What a vulture!

Khcenac picked up his headset at the airlock, and they headed outside together. Once the two got into a normal routine, bantering as they headed down into the drill site, they both loosened up. Despite Khcenac's lengthy manner of speech, he still very much enjoyed quipping with his workmates. If he struck the right chord, Atchki would let out a heaving, heavy laugh over comms, something that warmed his heart up all nice.

Work began. The dig site was home to the Big Pocking Drill, as Atchki often called it, which was a massive hulking metal thing which tore apart moon rock to uncover supermassive quantities of ice from within. Every new colony and space station needed a supply of water to keep and recycle, and Earth's oceans had already been injured by Nanotrasen's constant draining, so the Moon was a key asset in their supply chain. The job of Khcenac and Atchki was to set up the railing which directed the BPD further down, and to do maintenance on its many, many parts. It ended up being easier than the Asteroid's constant terrors, and far less stressful with company.

This part of their day was exceedingly routine. Although Khcenac's mind wandered to illustrious grand gestures he could do for his boyfriend between their tasks, he was repeatedly put back into shape by the barking orders of their Quartermaster over radio. Atchki was friendly, always, and the whole crew of Miners had a rapport that made the moon basin feel at home, but Khcenac had this terrible aching feeling in the back of his throat, from shift's end to lunch, and on.

Eventually, it was Station Time 8:00-- an hour that had repeatedly been used for Khcenac and Atchki to slip away, back to the outpost. The gruff bird didn't seem all that enthusiastic on this day, but a little gentle teasing from Khcenac got him energetic enough to ride the lift up. They navigated to the rec room, took off their helmets, and began another part of their routine, a part which had only been recently introduced, but was now intimately familiar to Khcen.

"So, ah." Atchki murmured. He was sat in a chair, leaned back a bit. The bird's quills were inflamed pretty hard, as he cooled off in the air-conditioned outpost. "Same as usual?"

"I'll take it just a quill's-width slower this time," Khcen replied, his tone low and eyes fierce.

With his legs spread, Atchki was made quite visible. His nylon undersuit supported the stiff plates of the Vox suit, and his gruff demeanor was put down a little bit. There was an interested glint in his eyes, and he was more relaxed than he would be on the job. That moment of pause allowed Khcenac to make himself visible, as well.

The thinner bird, with ruffled crest-quills and a similarly plated Vox suit, began to strip, slowly and delicately. He began with his groinplate, then with the other stiff bits of composite metal that made up the suit, until all that covered his lower body was the nylon article. He wasn't posing for Atchki, per se, but his demeanor was one of intense comfort.

Khcenac stepped over. Still remaining mostly clothed, but with the roughest parts gone, he nested in Atchki's welcoming lap. The bird held him softly, his large hands delicate, but his warm glance suddenly faltered. He glanced off, sucking in a weak and shuddery breath.

"Are you, ah. Are you feeling so very alright, Atchki?"

Atchki took a deep breath. He tried to speak, but his voice stammered. "I... sh-shit, I'm... yeh, but..."

He struggled to find the words, and was immediately interrupted as the door to the rec room slid open-- the fat-browed human Quartermaster peered in, a look of disgust on his face. Khcenac and Atchki glanced back with frantic surprise.

"Ah, pock off!" Atchki called, in Common. He held Khcen defensively in his arms.

The Quartermaster scowled. "I knew it! You coupl'a dickwads are slacking off again!"

Khcenac worked up the courage to snap back in Common. "You're and it's to me and it's supposed to be why don't and it's to stuff it, eh? Letting it's and we're to it's to release and that's steam!"

Below him, still supporting the whole of the littler bird's weight, Atchki rolled his eyes. "My buddy's trying to say, both needed to let off steam. Worked pocking adequately enough eight hours already."

"Yeah," the QM said bitterly, "well, finish your steam-offing quick, or you're both eatin' a demotion. Fuckin' birds." He exited back through the way he came, slamming the door shut.

"Ghhah." Atchki groaned a low groan, and sat back in the chair, feeling limp. His eyes went to Khcen, but he couldn't bare to stare for long.

In response, the littler bird just took a deep, long breath of nitrogen. "...I'm sorry. You clearly have something weighing horribly on your mind."

Atchki glanced off. "Yeah. I guess I've been meanin' to talk about it properly, but... wanted to try this out again first, see how I was feelin' about it."

"Clearly not... great," Khcenac joked, softly, his voice incredibly reserved, pensive.

"Yeh. Hah." The bigger bird laughed in response, but there was still some weakness in him. "Khcen, I... ah. Pock. I don't think this thing's workin' out between us."

"Oh."

Atchki continued, a little meek. "I got no hard feelings about the vampire thing, and I'm glad ya helped me recover after, and... shit, you're a good friend to have, y'know? I just don't know if... just 'cos we're two pocking gay Vox means we're any bit compatible."

Khcenac sat still a moment, taking in a long breath of nitrogen. He rested on Atchki's lap uncomfortably, and lowered his shoulders. "I suppose that's entirely fair. I didn't intend for things to move so quickly, but it felt right in the heat of things."

"Yeah." Atchki nodded. His voice was warm, now, but the warmth felt different. "I really do like ya. I just wanna be able to be, ah... friends again, ya know? Give ya space to make breakfast for someone who'll eat it, hah."

In that moment, Khcenac nodded. There was a friendliness in his eyes and a little smile on the base of his cheeks, but then he broke. A little caw escaped his beak, and he started to cry, feeling entirely involuntary. It wasn't a full-on sob by any means, and he felt entirely in control of himself, but... it still hurt. It hurt noticeably. He liked waking up early, he liked having his boyfriend to hold. He protested, "I-I'm... I apologize, I didn't think I'd react like this! I don't... a-ah, know what that's about. You're being so nice about it."

Atchki had the same bittersweet look on his face, and he clapped his beak a little. "Ahhh, pock. It's alright, y'know. I've been there. I'm sorry to let ya down like this."

"No, n-no," Khcenac muttered, "you're not letting me a-any bit down but easy. Thank you."

A little moment passed, some tears streaming down the Vox's face slow, and then Atchki reached forth, wrapping him in a hug. It didn't feel like a romantic one-- but it reminded Khcenac of when he'd first met the bird, when they had their first few adventures on the Asteroid shooting up strange creatures and building camaraderie. A different kind of touch. He slowly, pensively reached his arms back up to reciprocate the hug, and enveloped Atchki tightly.

Not a boyfriend, but a damn good friend.

He cawed out weakly, his voice breaking a little bit, "Y-You'll have to help me along in carrying all six-thousand plates of stale food out of th-the fridge." That made both of them crack up, tension breaking up into a thousand pieces, until the both of them were laughing weakly, and Khcenac let tears flow, for what they would be.

The bird let the moment pass, and allowed himself to drift into the next.

...

A cool, slow-swung rhythm emanated from the bar's soundsystem speakers. This particular track of Nu-Spacejazz had a particularly empty and spaced-out feeling, with a thoughtlessly strummed electric rhythm guitar and clumsily-played piano who both seemed to have little idea of the progression the other was playing. It could be heard from outside, and drew the patrons in gradually.

It'd been about a month. Khcenac and Atchki entered with mildly sleazy intentions, with Atchki dressed up in a rather bulky two-piece suit and Khcenac wearing some parts of his vampire getup, including the coat and leather pants and excluding the long and dramatic cape. Khcen nudged his buddy. In Tradeband, he chuckled, "So you remain with this notion you'll be my wingman tonight?"

"What?" laughed Atchki, as he lead them both over to the bar counter. "Thought you were bein' my wingman."

Their friendship had nay a single rocky spot. After they broke up, they were immediately back to cracking wise, berating each other with in-jokes, and keeping each other sane. It felt as natural as anything. Only a few months ago, through circumstances that are too inane to properly explain, Khcenac had become a vampire and killed Atchki, which seemed as if it would be significant enough an event to ruin their friendship. Once that was sorted out, though, they immediately got drinks and spent an afternoon strolling through the station without a care. This night was much like that night-- celebration over nothing in particular, and an attempt to get Khcenac back in the business of boyfriends.

The ex-vampire located a couple of stools near the middle of the counter, and had them both sit, with several other crewmembers sat on either side. "We'll see," he remarked. With that, he turned his aim to the rather quiet Insectoid bartender, who was rubbing clean a glass with a rag. "Bloody mary, I request!"

"Mmm?" The bartender shrugged. "Zorry, don't know Tradeband," he said, in Common.

Khcenac huffed and proceeded in his best approximation of the language. "Well, and it's to then and could it be and with it Mary, and she's and it's bloody, to be."

"Bloody Mary," Atchki stated, still chuckling under his breath. "My buddy wants Bloody Mary. I'd like big mead mug, like in medieval flick."

The Insectoid nodded and began to get to work on their drinks, while to the birds' left, the side nearer to Khcenac, a human scoffed at the bird's terrible, terrible Common. "You caw at your mother with that mouth?"

"It's to and then it's Common which fucks and it's not at that all out," Khcen responded, trying to put a bit of snark in his voice. In response, the human swiveled his stool a little bit to face both of them. It was a Security Officer, with slightly matted brown hair stuffed under a helmet, and an all-around stuck-up demeanor.

"I see," he laughed. "So you're one of those kinds of birds who don't even bother with the station's native language. Really, they didn't even test your Common before hiring you?"

Khcen was still feeling pretty playful with the banter. He brandished his rather normal-looking teeth, like a real-life bloodsucker. "You're and shouldn't to it's so dick about and it's to language. I then could and it's would blood and within it's suck!"

The Security Officer glanced over at Atchki, then back at Khcenac, squinting. "...Aren't you that miner that turned out to be a vampire?"

"Yes! This and it's you're finally and got the within it's to and it's idea."

"Hah." The human reached over to the counter, grabbing his own drink, a ridiculously fizzy Changeling Sting, and took a long sip. When his eyes returned, he was still a little goading, but he wasn't speaking Common. He'd gone to Tradeband instead. "If I remember the file I read right," he enunciated, "this is the language that Stetikekiak used to get you docile."

Khcenac raised an eyebrow, chuckling. He brushed himself off, displaying his dramatic getup. "Docile is a pleasant term. That rather odd scoundrel seduced me, and I fell for his ruse rather instantly. I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic, as it turns out."

Atchki's drink arrived first, and he started gulping down a bit of the sweet-smelling mead. He wasn't going to feel at home until he was at least tipsy. The bird spoke in Common, for the ease of the human's ears. "Buddy learned Tradeband from schlocky romance novels, so can guess how he happened."

"Oh, shut it!" Khcen turned back, batting at the bird. "I received Tradeband in a regimented class setting, the same as any other prospecting bird who wants a life above a lowlife's life. I simply found the nuances much more deftly than my cohort."

"Romance novels," Atchki laughed, patting Khcenac on the back. He glanced at the Security Officer, who couldn't help but smirk. "I tell ya. Romance novels."

The Security Officer laughed at Khcenac's expense. Still, his demeanor was eased up some. "Well, at least you can speak something humans understand. Won't have to throw you in lockup for being a birdbrain." He sipped at the Changeling Sting, and then motioned at his ID. "Matt," he said. "Now you give me your names, and you laugh at the human who can't pronounce the copious stupid vowels you guys have."

"They aren't stupid." Khcenac brushed away the thought. "But they aren't truly preferable. I'm actually quite a detractor of Pidgin. It's a cobbled-together language which cannot be shared across species."

Atchki reached over Khcenac with his head. "Atchki," he stated. "There, I jus' pronounced for ya. If vocal cords got trouble there, got trouble in general."

Matt took a breath. "Ashkey," he stumbled.

"Oh, you're playin' up!" laughed the hefty bird. "Atch-ki. Like, yeh, latch key."

He smirked. "Ahhh, right. Ashley."

That made Atchki nearly fall over backwards, chittering his ass off. He took a long swig of mead. "You're funny pocking dipshit human, eheh."

Khcenac raised his beak up a bit, inspecting Matt from top to bottom with his head in a proud demeanor. "It reads out my name on my identification," he said in Tradeband, coyly. "I'd like to see you make an attempt. Your very best! I insist."

"Okay, okay." Matt smirked. His cheeks were a little rosy, and he crossed his legs, reading the name through. K-H-C-E-N-A-C. Where the damn would he even start? Would he pronounce the K? Maybe this bird was Space French, and he wasn't supposed to pronounce any of the letters. After a while of deliberation, he bit his lip and finally made his best attempt. "Shhhen... ack."

"Ah, shit!" Khcenac opened his eyes wide, grinning with his cheeks. "I cannot tell if that's simply a good guess, or if you're more acquainted with Pidgin than you give yourself credit for."

The human grimaced. "Oh, I don't even know how Pidgin that name even is. It looks like somebody threw up on your birth certificate, and they called it good."

Khcen fired back instantly, as his Bloody Mary arrived on the counter. He feigned needing to squint to read Matt's ID card. "Ma-aaaat. Like a doormat. If I didn't know better, I'd say your crass demeanor is a way of compensating for the fact your name very genuinely means you're made to be walked all over."

"I could handcuff you for talking back like that." The man smirked, but there was a slight shift in his demeanor. He began to blush a bit, and crossed his legs the other direction, as if trying to hide something. "You two actually Miners? You're dressed like, uhhh... some kinda school ball, or something."

Atchki nodded. He seemed to get the jist of the room, and finally moved to Tradeband. "Didn't see the sense wearin' work clothes to th'bar when we got fancy getups. Managed to get Khcen to roll with the ol' Dracula look."

"Oh, it is Dracula, huh." Matt squinted, looking over Khcenac, who had just finished taking a swig of the Bloody Mary.

"When I received that sanguine curse, I was afflicted with... well, a multitude of things, but perhaps a showbiz attitude, as well. I located this on the same asteroid and began parading around. Then, I discovered that the haughty look still suited me after being cured." He posed a bit in the bar stool, chuckling. "What do you think? You aren't... intimidated, are you?"

Matt glanced off, as if thinking, then returned his gaze. "Second-hand embarrassment, that's mainly what I think."

Khcenac leaned back in the stool, taking a short little breath through his nostrils. Although he wasn't fond of Pidgin, the very roughened language uniquely spoken by Vox, he used it to murmur back to Atchki.

"I like this one."

Atchki scoffed, and returned back in a similarly-guised whisper. "No way."

Khcen nodded to himself. "Let's buy him dinner, and see where it goes."

"He's all yours," the bigger bird chuckled.

Matt just furrowed his brow a little, watching the two communicate in their own special language. It was a bit... unfair-feeling, for sure. "Backtalk makes a Security Officer nervous, don't you know?"

"Oh, it isn't so crude as to be backtalk," Khcenac assured. "Actually, we were simply discussing getting a meal to go with our drinks." He began to stand, taking his Bloody Mary up with him. "So this would be adieu, unless you're similarly hungry."

The human paused a moment. He may have tried to feign a lack of interest, but the pause was all-too-real. "Not a bit."

"Ah, c'mon," Atchki goaded, standing alongside Khcenac and taking another wide swig of mead. "Banter's just gettin' good. Don'tcha wanna insult your local birds a little longer? Not like you're bar-sittin' for any other reason, innit?"

Matt looked back behind him. He wasn't accompanied by anyone, and the rest of the bar had a distinctive lack of liveliness. He seemed intent on finding an excuse, though. "I'm waiting on a buddy, actually."

Khcenac simply chuckled, heading over towards the tables in the middle of the room. "No, you aren't, though you can tell yourself that all you'd prefer."

Atchki just gave the human a shrug, and followed after. A little bemused and embarrassed, Matt just watched them walk off, sitting uncomfortably in the stool.

The jukebox swapped songs. In the place of the smooth, lurching free jazz, a slightly uptempo bossa nova groove filled the room. Khcenac and Atchki reached a small four-person table and sat next to each other. At the center of the sleek black surface was a neat little device protruding upwards, which both birds used to order meals from the kitchen. Ah, the wonders of a crew left to their own devices! Unlike many free-floating NT platforms with short shifts and chaotic schedules, every department had settled so far into their own routine that life came with little extras. Service was the part of the crew with the most expansion, and Atchki and Khcenac took full advantage of this; the former ordered a creamy lobster risotto, and the latter ordered a healthy helping of eggplant parmigiana. "Still not snackin' meat?" Atchki chuckled.

"No, not particularly," Khcenac muttered. "Ah, it's... well, still a rather unpleasant reminder of driving teeth into raw flesh."

"And the Bloody Mary inn't?" Atchki motioned at the drink that the littler bird was still happily sipping on.

He just shrugged in response. "Guilty pleasure."

Then, as the two birds were confirming their orders, a third seat was filled, beside Khcenac, who was watching them approach. Matt had brought over his Changeling Sting and a dismissive expression, and sat stiffly in the chair.

Khcenac chittered softly in amusement. "Must I pry, or...?"

Matt just grimaced a little bit. After a moment sitting in the awkwardness, he spoke more loudly in Tradeband so as to extinguish it. "So. How's the, uh... mining business? You two still diving through asteroids?"

"Nah, nah," Atchki assured him, "Well, most days, eh. Gets dangerous up there, so if we're lucky, we're still mannin' the drill on a given day. Earth loves their pocking ice, eheh."

Khcenac leaned in closer to the human, his eyes prying. "Are you from Earth?"

After a few moments considering, Matt just went, "Ehhh? Kinda. Technically. It's not exactly 'home' for me, though. I've always liked space a lot more."

"Plenty more to see, certainly. A flourishing landscape of possibility and alien intrigue." The littler bird chuckled lowly, his flowing voice growing warm.

"I just like not being totally locked down." Matt leaned back in the cushioned chair, and it creaked. "But I guess... yeah, the 'alien intrigue' is cool, too. Even if it's mostly shitbirds and ayys."

Atchki laughed. "...Two shitbirds who are waitin' on you to order somethin'," he commented.

The man suddenly shifted forwards, embarrassed once more. "Oh, uh, shit. Sorry." He started tapping at the ordering device, desperately looking for something that wouldn't require him to stay too long eating it. Maybe some breaded macaroni and cheese? Sure. He put the order in hastily, and sent all three into the kitchen.

Khcenac took a long breath. "And how is the Security business, since you were so polite as to ask about our line of work?"

Matt was feeling a bit overwhelmed. The two birds were... ogling him, now. "It's... ah, it's... fine. You know how it is, just... well, since Stetikekiak's whole stunt, less risk on the job, so that's good, I guess."

"Tell me," Khcenac enunciated, "about your bravery and confidence out at work, now that there's some less risk with your vocation."

"It's not much special. I lock up chumps for screwing about on the clock." He swallowed spit, trying to hold his own.

Atchki snuck in. It seemed he was on the same page as his buddy. "Ever pock an inmate? Ya look the type who's gotta compensate by keepin' 'em tied down."

Matt scowled. "No, I have not 'pocked' an inmate. I'm not some kind of giga-degenerate."

"Oh, come, now." Khcenac lowered his gaze. He was trying to bring in that confidence he had as a vampire. "I don't suppose you'd ever do it without a form of consent-- you aren't so rude and haughty. But perhaps you've had somebody who was quite up to the task?"

He paused a moment, the bird did. Oh, now he was really going for the kill! He brandished some of his teeth, and with one foot extended, he gently caressed Matt's leg, talons in somewhat flexible rubber coverings, as part of his extravagant getup. He enunciated softly, "A shitbird with some confidence you'd lose that cold exterior?"

Matt gasped out weakly, trying not to break. He grimaced and held his composure, but only slightly-- he crossed his legs under the table, but didn't push Khcenac away. "I don't have a damn... cold exterior. I'm professional on the job. Hey, I bet I could run papers and find the both of you being the opposite of professional!"

Atchki smirked with his cheeks. "Oh, I'm sure ya could, tough guy."

Khcenac continued rubbing the man softly, his leg extended and talons massaging him as they ventured slowly up. The table hid all this action, but surely Matt was feeling it, was feeling utterly locked in. "I assure you, we are entirely law-abiding and approachable crewmembers. As must you be. But I have this inkling, this- perhaps truly baseless- sense that you did not waltz over to our table simply because you were bored."

"Okay, okay," Matt stammered. "So, obviously I don't have anyone coming to meet me, but I'm not some kind of birdfucker. I'm looking for someone to chat to while getting smashed!"

"Drink's not alcoholic," Atchki said, pointing at Matt's Changeling Sting. "Jus' soda. Unless ya mean other kinda smashed."

The littler bird continued sneaking his foot up Matt's leg, until it was rubbing his inner thigh. He spoke in Pidgin to his buddy, while the meek human just kind of stared wide-eyed, struggling to respond. "I think he is thoroughly flustered," he called to Atchki.

"Yep." The gruff bird laughed. He was staring Matt straight in the eyes, unbreaking. "Jesus, you got him transfixed. Feel bad for the lad now."

As they spoke in Pidgin, the man squinted, feeling hopeless. "I'm right here," he choked.

"It isn't my fault he is easy to embarrass." Khcen rested his leg fully on Matt's lap, now putting a significant amount of weight on the little fleshy human, who was now shaking vigorously. "I... might actually take this one out tonight, if it goes well. You did not call dibs?"

Atchki shrugged. "Kinda wondering what he'd do if I started ordering him around."

"...but no dibs?"

"S'pose not." The gruff bird nodded slow. "No dibs. But stop pocking touching him, Khcen, he'll bleed out his ears."

"Eheh." Khcenac slowly let his leg off of Matt, who was still breathing quite laboriously and blushing madly, but finally he mustered up the courage to speak, transferring the conversation back to Tradeband.

"I gotta learn h-how to understand Pidgin one of these days," he enunciated, voice warbly.

The littler bird focused his gaze on the man, resting his arms on the table and resting his head in his hands. "I'm interested in you, quite. I believe you've put on some inclination that you'd like to resist this approach, but I think that's against your more real and tangible desires." The man tried to speak, but Khcen interrupted as he continued. "But let's eat and see where that goes, hmm?"

Matt paused. He took a very long breath. His frigid demeanor loosened a little, like he was being forced to finally give in. "...Yeah, uh. Alright. I'm just gonna... have dinner with a couple of shitbirds talking in a language I don't understand."

Atchki laughed. "Nah, we'll keep to Tradeband, human, if ya gettin' so upset. Khcen was just bein' a pocking flirt."

"F-Flirt?" Matt stumbled. "You guys are assholes."

"What, the little inkling of touch didn't clue you in? I said interested." Khcenac chuckled his low, warm chuckle. "I'm sorry to have played it so coy, then. I'm flirting with you. Atchki is my wingman."

"No, Khcen's my wingman," Atchki protested.

"Well, whatever it is." The littler bird grinned with his cheeks. "I enjoyed making your cheeks rosy. If you enjoyed them being rosied, stick around."

Matt sighed. He crossed his legs the other way again, and nodded, his face as reddened as his jumpsuit. The little confirmation made Khcen almost jump with joy, cackling under his breath and leaning back. The human just said, "Okay, listen, but I'm not some kinda birdfucker. Or... nnnh, I'm not gonna be known as some kinda birdfucker. Can we set that in stone right here?"

"You may call it as you like." Khcenac perched his head proudly. "I really would not like you feeling so embarrassed."

"Yeah," the man groaned, "might've already failed on that count."

The Insectoid chef running Service headed over with plates of food balanced precariously on his segmented arms. He sat appropriate meals in front of the three. "Thiz iz yourz, hopefully?"

Khcenac beamed. "Indeed!"

Atchki was already digging in, slicing apart the tray of lobster and shoveling risotto in his beak.

Matt just nodded. "Yeah."

He supposed he wasn't hungry at first, but as the chef headed away, he figured he might as well eat something. He dug into the elegantly-cooked macaroni and cheese, with thick breading and gooey, delicious cheese coating every single noodle. It wasn't all that bad, and... he could go for eating this. Why not!

For a little while, the three just ate quietly together. Finally, Matt piped up. "So... if you two are each others' wingmen, 's that mean that Ashki's straight, Khcenac's gay?"

Khcen chuckled at the rather intentional mispronunciation of his buddy's name. "Atchki's bi. Which means that we do have a lot of collective options for each other."

"But not..." The human pointed at the two of them, motioning them together.

"Not swingers, no." Khcen shook his head. "Two birds of our alignment don't strictly have to be in a relationship to have a healthy friendship."

Atchki piped in. "But, 's kinda the first time we've been out and about like this. Khcen was feelin' lonely, 'n I was thinkin' about gettin' back into the bachelor business anyway."

"Huh." Matt took another bite, speaking in-between noms of melted parmesan. "I would've thought you were just trying to get some, considering, um." He kicked Khcen's leg lightly.

The bird chittered. "I'm sorry if that was very much too coy, really. I thought it may get your goat."

"Ey, it really did." He blushed, forcing a chuckle. "Shit, I dunno, I just... I really, really don't like admitting it, 'cus the whole force become dicks about it, but I kinda like the company of shitbirds. If you get the right ones."

"Don'tcha have a bird Warden?" Atchki mumbled through a beakful of lobster.

"Yeah, but he's kind of... a stonewall." Matt just shrugged. "Head of Security's got Steti as kind of a, like... I dunno, they've got this arrangement, and somehow he doesn't take any flak for it. Everyone else, they've just got such sticks up their asses. One time..." He stared off, laughing to himself. He'd clearly eased up. "One time, they stole my PDA, to look through my history. But I was smart enough to wipe that shit. But they- no joke- got all of Research and Development on board to do data recovery. All so they could make fun of me being on some shady websites."

Atchki just squinted. "Pockin' A."

"That sounds rather terrible, actually," Khcenac enunciated, listening intently.

"It's... Jesus. I don't know. I guess I hate thinking about it. You mind if I eat with you guys, still, but we just... don't talk about why, too much?"

The littler bird nodded. "That's a lovely idea."

After this rather messy series of events, and as they dined together with a cleared-up air, the conversation broke from being so tense. Matt was unwilling to approach the idea that he might currently be on a date with a bird, but to chat and relax around a couple of coworkers wasn't such a repulsive thing. He loosened up, and so did they, as the night went on. Soon enough they'd finished enough to be full, and Matt decided to order them a round of dessert. "You guys need anything special 'cus of the beaks?"

"Well, milkshakes ain't great," Atchki said. "No lips, remember. But I got nothin' against much else."

"How about pies?"

Khcenac considered it, then hummed, unsure. "A little too heavy, I'd wager. We did all eat something substantial. Perhaps something lighter for the soul?"

Matt shrugged, perusing through the options, leaned forth with his eyes squinted to read the screen. "Hum... ice cream, puddi, jecties..." He scrolled further down. "...Baked pears? What the hell is that?"

"Oh, those are quite delicious!" Khcenac beamed happily. "The chef makes them with honey, but they're just as easy with cinnamon. I love to make them for any dear company I've got in-home."

"Actually," Atchki commented, "Whatever you two get, just grab me some donk pockets. Got a cravin'."

After a moment of consideration, Matt nodded and started ordering. "Okay, I guess. I'll try some baked pears, if you say they're good, and donk pockets for Anchovy."

"Ah, shut your mouth!" The gruff bird let out another hacking laugh, rattling the table and bringing both of the others to chuckle alongside. Matt grinned as he confirmed the order and sat back. "I'm gonna start calling you pocking Magdalene."

"C'mon, that's not even close." Matt snickered. "Anyway, uh, what were you saying about the Engie job, Khcen?"

"Ah, yes." Khcenac went to reminiscing. "The antimatter engine had been, ah... well, an unfit home for a bird such as myself. As you may know, it is very difficult to break out once you've trapped yourself in, and one may not even realize such a feat has been made possible." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "My radio had been zapped out of existence when I dropped it into the Singularity earlier, but I did have one method of recourse, which my rather addled brain came up with. I could just barely reach the controls of the engine, and I set it to inject as much antimatter as possible."

The man's jaw dropped in horror. "Oh my god."

"I know! It was quite the, ah... misplaced decision." The bird laughed to himself. "I believed that if there were enough injections at a rate the engine was not designed for, perhaps some kind of announcement would be made. Somebody would come to help me. The Supermatter has this sort of system built in." He sighed in amusement, his past actions nothing but humor to him now. "Well. The antimatter engine has no such babyproofing... or perhaps they were simply not expecting a bird like myself to be so short-sighted."

"How the shit did you get out of that one?" Matt laughed incredulously. "I mean, seriously, like. How are you sitting here in front of me? Don't tell me this is one of those stories where only your clone comes back. That's way too dark."

Khcen shook his head. "Thankfully not that bleak. I began to panic as the engine was not setting off any alarms, but I wasn't able to reach the controls either, as... I'm not even certain, but I think I got my arm stuck in the machinery. It felt near-to-it-all hopeless." He took in a great big breath for dramatic effect. "...Until."

Matt grinned, enthused by the bird's storytelling. "Until?"

"I brought out the railgun- the one I had mentioned was given to me by the poor, poor Chief Engineer- and fired it out of desperation."

"Ouch."

Khcenac cackled. "Needless to say, there was no longer much of anything salvageable in the aftermath, but I did manage to get out of it with nothing but a chipped beak and some burned quills! And a demotion."

Atchki laughed softly. "Eheh, ya played it up more'n when ya told me," he said.

"Oh, ah." The littler bird shrugged, glancing back at his Vox pal. "It's a strange phenomenon. You have to share a lot with a person when you first meet them, when you, ah... grow friendly with them. Practically everything."

Matt frowned. "Yeah. Kind of one of the hard part about meeting new people. Blank slate."

"Eh," Atchki protested. "Blank slate's good, too. Ya got to tell us 'bout your shitty coworkers without them buttin' in," he said, pointing at the man. "And we got to know ya before we were thinkin' you were just some birdfucker."

"We hide much of ourselves in the fog of love," Khcenac stated.

Matt went flush again, a little. "The term's... fog of war, you know."

Khcenac's gaze grew warm, landing back on Matt. "I did mean what I said."

He just let out an embarrassed huff in response, legs pressing together. "So you went from... Engineering, to Cargo?"

"No, not Cargo." Khcenac enunciated. "Well, I suppose in the grander sense, Cargo, but Mining has oft felt a separate department entirely. We deal with that awful Quartermaster, but he possesses naught a fraction the skills we do."

"He seriously--" Atchi spoke and then interrupted himself, heaving in laughter, trying to recall a story and stumbling over his own excitement. "This pocking lad has got a Space Napoleon complex, you know who that is? Yeh?"

"Yep, I'm... from Earth." Matt laughed softly.

The gruff bird continued on. "He started the pocking Revolution, he was orchestrating to kill the most'a the crew for his own dumbassery. And when he gets a chip in his brain, he's all up in arms saying he wants to make a 'legal attempt' at the same deal! Lobby for Cargonian independence! Right after getting pocking SPARED because of his mess'f a plan." He laughed. "Total egomaniac, that little shit. And the little ounce of power he got, he'll use it like nobody's business."

Matt scoffed. "He sounds like a huge asshole. You guys report to him when you're actually on Luna, though?"

"Technically," Khcenac explained. "As with all things, 'technically' hides so much meaning, however. It's merely a formality that he exercises power over us to spite his Vox crewmembers. We possess a Mining Director and Site Foreman, formally confident and with the capability to run quite the workforce by themselves."

"Maybe you're the guys that should be fighting for your independence." The Security Officer snickered. "Hey, I guess I could look the other way."

Atchki harrumphed. "Ya wouldn't look the other way to check for space traffic, heh. I know you red-tide types."

To this, Matt laughed, trying to keep his cool. "No, seriously! If it wasn't anything violent, the Head of Security's already sympathetic to shitbirds, and I..."

"And you're more than sympathetic," Khcenac murmured, eyes trained on the man. "Maybe we ought truly recruit your help for such things. The Quartermaster remains eager to throw us into danger as always."

"I've got plenty on my plate, so allowing your shittery is about the most I can do." Matt gave them both a little smirk, and glanced off to the side, where the Insectoid chef had arrived with three plates-- two decadently-prepared servings of honey-infused baked pears, and one pile of donk pockets.

Atchki shouted, "Ah, pock yeah, donk pockets!"

"Yez, donk pocketz. Gourmet preparation," the chef rattled off.

"Thanks, bug." Matt nodded at the Insectoid as he waddled away, and began to examine the cooked fruit. It had an overwhelmingly sweet aroma, like an alien's idea of a dessert. "Shitting Christ, this smells good. You said you make these?"

Khcenac shrugged. "Yes, but, not just on command, like some common nanny. They are a dish of romantic importance, in my eyes."

"So you're saying the bug's flirting with me, too?" The human snickered.

"Well, I recommended it, didn't I?"

"Halfsies." Matt gave him a meek little grin, allowing just enough flirtatious ground for Khcenac to feel warm inside, and then he started to dig into his sweet, sweet meal.

The three were all snacking happily, now. Atchki hadn't skipped a beat chowing down on his pile of donk pockets-- eventually the bartender came by to deliver him another mug of mead, which complimented the hot meaty 'treats' nicely. Meanwhile, Khcenac was giving Matt a... look, of sorts, slowly nibbling at the baked pear slices he'd been given. The man couldn't help but go flush amidst it all. The birds were both keeping him in captive company, and it wasn't that hard to like it.

Eventually, he spoke up. "So if... you two didn't like the QM's plan to try and say 'fuck you!' to Nanotrasen, what's your take on the Company, exactly?"

"Oh, awful." Khcenac cackled softly. "Not so terrible as to be worse than the plan that maniac concocted, but benevolent in the very worst ways."

"Yeah, they're obviously evil, and... prudish, I'll admit." Matt shrugged and continued nibbling at his pears.

With a beak full, Atchki spoke, garbled. "Gives a paycheck!"

Khcen had to admit, "They do give a paycheck." He let a big chunk of the sweet fruit go down his gullet, and then landed his gaze right back on Atchki. "The crew is quite alright on their own, however. I'd think we'd do well if connections were to be severed. We know ourselves plenty better than that which looms above us."

"Do we, though?" Matt squinted. "I barely know myself at all. I guess I like the Company telling me what to do."

"Okay, hm." The littler bird rested his head in his hands as Matt ate. "I do believe you may be underestimating your own capacity for independence, same as many underestimate Luna Station." He made a little movement, but once again it was below the table. He rested one foot on Matt's, who went stiffly upright in surprise.

"Ah, you're..."

Khcen snickered lowly. "We do know one limit-- in calling this a date. But... hum, where do the other limits lie?"

Matt swallowed. He tried to babble out a protest, but he couldn't, quite. "...Not here, yet."

"I see." Khcenac moved another foot onto Matt's leg. Now he was pressing on him quite noticeably, massaging skin through jumpsuit. "And this?"

"I guess... not... a limit, yet," the human mumbled, taking in a shuddery breath.

Atchki watched in amusement through chomps of chunked donk pockets. The littler bird started moving his talons up, trailing lines against Matt's calves, then his thighs. The human wasn't able to croak out anything of protest, until Khcenac finally laid both of his legs on the man's lap, using him as a footrest.

"Limit?" Khcen asked.

Matt was now panting a little bit. The bird's boot clad talons laid between his legs, and it made his heart skip a beat. He felt at them lightly with one hand, unable to contain himself.

God, what an affliction. He'd discovered it browsing Starchan late at night, and then read that it was some kind of crossed wires in his brain. He could explain away his attraction to Vox as some kind of xenophilia, but talons... talons had nothing to offer in the way of sane attraction. This should be making him worried, not excited. Matt was simultaneously embarrassed out of his mind, and intrigued to the point of nearly drooling. He sucked in some air weakly, and nodded. "L-Limit. I guess, f-for... for here. For the bar."

Khcenac beamed mischievously. "...But, if I am understanding you correctly, lover, not a limit for you?"

Through another big gobble of meat and bread, Atchki mumbled, "He's tryna catch you in a technicality, tough guy."

Matt just went totally blush, displaying an ashamed little grin and sinking into the chair. "No, it's... n-not a limit for me."

The littler bird took his legs off Matt once again, finally satisfied with his answer. "Why don't we finish up dinner and then head for a quieter place, mm? One without so very many prying eyes. The comfort of a date is in the closeness to another soul, and oft for the promise of intimacy in the after-times."

"N-Not a date," Matt stammered.

"Not a date," Khcenac assured him.

Now, as the three nibbled on the last remnants of their dessert, Matt was spending it in a lake of embarrassment and anticipation. He had his legs crossed and was feeling totally weakened out of his stiff demeanor, trembling a little and grinning meekly at Khcenac, who was giving him a warm, welcoming gaze. The air had totally shifted, and Atchki knew it. By the time their plates were all cleared, he swallowed one last gulp of donk pockets and said, "You two got ya plans for the night, then?"

"Yes, Atchki," Khcenac softly enunciated. "I'll see you tomorrow at shift's start, I do think."

"Heh, alright. I'll see ya." The gruff bird stood, gave Khcen a playful little push on the shoulder, and headed to leave the bar, still taking swigs of mead as he went. At the same time, the jukebox switched over to yet another new song-- a gentle smooth jazz track with no inclination to go any faster than was necessary. A romantically-soft saxophone echoed throughout the bar.

Matt was clutching his hands together. There wasn't anywhere to look except in Khcenac's direction.

They sat quietly together for a little while. It seemed like they both had their minds racing, with the air no longer filled with the ambiguity of what this situation meant. Khcenac was giving Matt a hell of a gaze.

"Do you, uhm... know anywhere... private?" the man asked quietly.

"I can reminisce a few places. It could be... ah, back to my pod apartment, if you want to move ahead things so very quickly. Or perhaps somewhere closer, and we play things particularly by ear." Khcen's eyes were starlit.

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I'd... like that." He was panting to himself, now. "Ah... where?"

Khcenac began to stand slowly. He showed off his body some, displaying the flashy vampire getup. He was a very gay-looking Dracula, with an enticing expression. "The fitness centre has changing rooms. Come, now. While not as optimum as I'd have hoped to prepare in advance..." He offered the man a hand, claws gentle, which Matt immediately took without a second thought. "...it is very quite private."

As the human stood, he was forced into pretty much a waddle, blushing madly. He readjusted his helmet a little to keep it from sliding off his head, and followed Khcenac as he led him by the hand out, out, and away.

...

He slurched out of bed.

Matt's pod-home had been quickly redesigned to fit two people. By now, he had a long way to crawl out from under the covers, flopping onto the floor with a 'thud' to find that his boyfriend was already out and about somewhere in the apartment.

That was quite like him-- and a perk, most mornings, because that meant coffee was guaranteed.

He retrieved his typical under-garb, being feminine underwear colored pink with matching thigh-highs, and put on an oversized shirt to wear around the little habitation pod, the only place he felt comfortable to cross-dress without having a full Security outfit on over top. With a long, drawn-out yawn, he exited the bedroom, into the kitchen which Khcenac had converted into quite the deluxe cooking zone.

High-tech barista gear sat behind a counter polished to perfection right by the entrance to their bedroom. Across the counter, a rosy-eyed Khcenac leaned forth, giving Matt an incredibly sultry, loving gaze. "Good morning to thee, my lovely darling. You're quite the cupcake with your so-very-colorful getup." He, himself, was wearing a jumpsuit with a green apron, not exactly work attire.

"Well, ha." Matt chuckled softly, going blush. "I'm glad you still like it. Can't exactly wear it anywhere else, so." He stepped forth, rubbing at his eyes and sitting at the one stool in front of the counter. "You in barista mode?"

"Indeed!" Khcenac displayed his teeth happily. "And in that very case, I'd like to hear your request for any sort of brewed drink or otherwise. And--" He reached under the counter and retrieved a hand-carved, polished little wooden plaque, with a depiction of both himself and Matt, holding hands. Underneath, in laser-cut lettering, it read, 'FOUR-WEEK ANNIVERSARY'.

The human scoffed. "I thought you'd be done making these at three." He managed a smirk, and turned his gaze back to the bird. "One request first, though." Matt leaned over and kissed Khcen on the tip of the beak, giving him a long smooch before retracting back. The grin on his face was genuine, warm-- even if always held back a sliver for fear of seeming too genuine.

Khcenac chittered happily. "Request verily granted. Even an amateur could fulfill such a thing as being recipient for a love-peck.~" He turned around to face the machinery, then called back. "But, hm, your request for a drink, Matt?"

The man contemplated a second, taking in a long breath of air. Honestly, he himself was split on if he was a little exhausted of this routine, or basking in the fun of it. "Mmm... barista, I'd like... one Space Americano, uh, a little sugar, and a little hyperzine."

"Coming up immediately, sir." The Vox began his fluid routine, dashing around the kitchen and enjoying himself to the point of nearly giggling, while Matt watched on with a tired, but solid, smile. A helping of coffee grounds packed to perfection, steamed water heated with a glorious screeching roar, and Khcenac was already on his way to making his boyfriend a lovely espresso-based drink. Matt set aside the little wooden plaque on a nearby shelf, next to 'THREE-WEEK ANNIVERSARY' and 'FIRST KISSING SESSION'.

It only took a couple minutes for the bird to get to work. By then, of course, the Space English muffins were sure to be finished toasting, and as Khcen dropped a single 14.87u hyperzine tablet into the coffee mug, fogging up the room with its heat, he was ready to make Matt some breakfast, too. After only a few minutes, and before he even realized it, the human had a full meal set in front of him, steaming-hot eggs benedict and a perfectly-brewed mug full of coffee. "J-Jeez, bird. Thanks."

"That will be fourteen thousand credits," Khcenac joked.

Matt gave him a muted, warm chuckle, and began to cut apart one of the stacks of egg-tomato-muffin. "I'm an Officer. I take what I want."

The bird just leaned over the counter, looking dreamily at his boyfriend enjoy breakfast. After a few sips of coffee, he was returned to a new normal, jittery self, prepped for the working day. And, if all things went right (and they certainly should!), he'd be fortified with a nice, protein-filled, deliciously savory meal. Khcenac went to work cleaning the pan and dishes.

Matt sat back in the stool, panting slightly. He'd gotten full after only a couple of bites. "Alright, I'm... gonna be honest, I don't know how much I'm going to be able to eat in the morning, Khcen. If you could just make me something that I can bring to work..."

The bird glanced back. "Then how would you eat so lovably in my warmth and company?"

To this, the human laughed softly, then realized that Khcenac was serious. "I like these mornings with you, but... they're kind of tiring me out, doing them every morning, you know?"

"I'm... ah, well, I can empathize with such a sentiment, but..." Khcenac frowned his cheeks. "I quite like it. It's the supreme and delectable way to start a day, for me."

Matt just shrugged. "I like what we're doing, bird, but I'm still really, uh... I don't know, getting used to it, still. Like, kissing you just now took a lot out of me."

Khcenac leaned in. "It didn't revitalize you? It certainly delivered unto me some energy. Perhaps it would, for you, if I kissed back?"

"N-Nahhh, I don't think." It seemed joking at first, but Matt was growing calmly serious. "It's a little... I'm out of energy with it. I still want to take baby steps. Obviously I like you, I think you're sweet, and... uh, I like the sex." He chuckled softly. "But I can't be romantic all the time. I'm still working on getting comfortable with this whole bird-boyfriend thing."

The barista-dressed-bird took a long breath, glancing off. Gears appeared to be turning, the same way they always did in Vox-- accompanied with soft little chitters and caws, muttered under the breath in some guttural Pidgin. Finally, he turned back and returned to their shared, romantic language. "It's... some bit frustrating, not to be able to spend any time with you, Matt. You don't desire to be together in public, and..." He shook his head tiredly. "I... do desire to be in public with you."

The man shrugged slowly, and looked off towards a corner of the room. "I'm not ready for it yet. I'm still worried about... what the hell people would even say about me."

Khcenac just let out a defeated sigh, and finally relented. "Ah, well, please don't let me hold us here for the morning. I'm glad I got to spend a moment with you, anyhow."

"Yeah," Matt nodded, "me too." He gave a warm grin, and stood to leave the counter, bringing his coffee mug with him. The both of them had a cool twenty-five minutes before shift start, and began quietly getting themselves ready for a workday in together-solace.

This time, when they split up in the hovershaft, Khcenac wasn't just headed to Mining, however. He'd been planning something for a while, and today was the perfect day.

The bird was always a fan of grand gestures.

...

Matt sipped down the last of his coffee mug. The electrifying jitter of hyperzine rattled through his body, and he exhaled deeply, trying to pay an ounce of attention to the morning meeting set up in Security's lobby.

The dozen Security Officers sat in rank in front of a front pedestal, where the Head of Security was stood up, announcing in his roughened manner. "That's why you CAN'T LEAVE YOUR FUCKING SPS," he shouted. "I don't know how many times I'm going to have to tell you. Just because Steti-fuck-iak has made our jobs a teensy bit easier doesn't mean I want you being dragged away in some maintenance shaft screaming. And no, not every greyshit with a stunprod is kidnapping you to get his dick wet. Big surprise: he might still be trying to MURDER YOU. Or, worse, murder you and steal your shit."

A couple Officers chuckled. Matt couldn't help but smirk. Life aboard had definitely... shifted, even if it wasn't entirely different. Now, even the HoS was casually discussing the events of a month prior. He continued, "Next, I want you to be quietly reporting anybody aboard without a loyalty implant. I know, you fucking anarchists think it's a 'police state', but last time we let the crew run amok, just about every schmuck got themselves a revolution going. Not like those little piece-of-shit chunks of plastic do much, anyway." He sighed. "Another reason to leave your HUDs on. At all times. I don't care if you're stark naked making a mockery of this fucking department again, KEEP YOUR GLASSES ON. And tie your SPS to your arm, or something." The man rubbed at his forehead, as another little eruption of snickering filled the room. "...God, you helpless fuckers."

Beside the HoS, the Warden stood with his hands behind his back. The Vox was clad in thick armor which obscured his face, a large over-beak helmet with reflective glass visors. "Sir."

"Right, right." The human relented, grunting. "Warden's got his own spiel for you all, now."

The bird stepped up as the HoS went to the side, and glared over the crowd. Even his blank stare seemed to make everyone shut up some. "Reminders. Or, clarifies. Paperwork is big help to organized Security. Sheets available in office for 'prisoner contact'. Must be signature from both you and prisoner. Not Space Wild West, very regimented professional care. Consent is important, bureaucracy even more. Mess up, and get write-up. Demote, detained, or worse. Must crystal-clear this one. Please."

Beside him, the Head of Security snapped, shouting out, "AND YOU DON'T REDUCE THEIR SENTENCE TIME FOR SUCKING YOUR DICK! THAT'S FUCKING FINAL!"

"Mhm." The Vox paused a moment, recoiling from the man's outburst. "Sentence time follows lawbook, core rules. Trust with discretion not reduce times and have privacy. Misuse of privilege means take away privilege, and put cameras in all cell. Understand?"

The crowd of Officers was thoroughly intimidated. There was a little musing amongst them, as well as a few readjusted helmets.

Finally, to break up the chattering, the Head of Security walked back up onto the stage, butting aside a squawking Warden. He gripped the pedestal and groaned. "Aaand... one more thing. Internal Affairs was requested by... the 'Chief Slut'," he mumbled, clearly disdainful for the title, "to have me announce today's... official holiday."

Matt tensed up a little. Things involving Stetikekiak were rarely very good news.

The HoS took a long breath. "As you might've seen in the memo, it's 'Bring Your Boyfriend To Work Day'. Obviously most of you haven't, because it's a moronic fucking holiday, but--"

Just then, the air of the room shattered. Behind the group of Officers, an airlock slid open, and in strolled a Vox with a dramatic swagger, having obtained access who-knows-how, wearing an outfit resemblant of the legendary Dracula, raising his head high and beak proudly as he overlooked the crowd. "Matt?" he called in, the man's name rolling off his tongue.

Matt scrambled to his feet, staring around at the crowd in awe. A sea of confused faces watched him as he stammered out, "Wh-what the hell?"

Khcenac chuckled his warm chuckle, deep and guttural. Sure, his mussed quills weren't much to look at, but his theatrical performance had to make up for it, surely! He spoke in that fluent and smooth Tradeband dialect as he approached. "It is, indeed, 'Bring Your Boyfriend to Work Day'. I figured you could use such a daring surprise such as this, and I've always wanted nothing more than to startle the love of my life in such a way as this." His eyes lit up, starlike, as he began to loom over the meek, flush human. "You look lovely in your getup, cupcake.~"

Matt stared down his boyfriend in shattered, embarrassed awe. He was angry, thrilled, and terrified all at once. He clenched his fists down by his side, and he was intimidated into a half-squat as Khcenac gripped him around the shoulders, and kissed him happily on the forehead, love-pecking and hugging all at once.

The room was amidst in chatter. There was plenty of amusement, a few jokes at Matt's expense. A couple men let out a dramatic, but genuine, 'aww'. Over by the pedestal, the Head of Security grimaced a little. "So I guess the squeak-bird set me up for this, huh."

Meanwhile, the Warden was cawing happily. "I didn't understand single word Vox just said, but overwhelming cute. Almost makes forget trespassing in Brig!"

But the moment was far, far too much for Matt.

The dam, for him, broke very suddenly. He forced Khcenac back and away, shoving with intense force and anger, shouting out a primal roar. As the bird stumbled back, surprised and confused, Matt shouted out, his voice nearly cracking open. "Get the FUCK away from me, shitbird!"

His suddenly aching heart pounded with adrenaline and hyperzine. He couldn't deal with this-- this force of judging eyes at every turn, the theater of it all. The man just wanted a calm day at work, for once, and Khcen had done everything in his power to change that.

The Vox let out a few shuddery breaths. He wasn't sure how to react, at first. The room was still, and he finally weakly, weakly chittered, "I-I'm sorry." More awed than anything, he simply backed away and left, rolling up that grand red carpet he'd spiritually rode in on. The moment ended as dreadfully as it began, for Matt, standing alone in a crowd of onlooking Officers, under the ire of his Head of Security, nearly driven to the point of tears and having screeched at his lover.

For the rest of Security, what were they supposed to say? It was, more or less, like witnessing a breakup in the middle of a party. Matt took a few panting breaths, trying to catch air where there no longer was any, before he finally started in the direction Khcenac had left, desperate to pull the moment back.

Back, back, back, but it was already said and done.

...

It wasn't the worst kick in the gut Khcen had ever felt.

But it was the most dreadful of them all, because he had no idea just how bad things might or might not have gotten, as a result. It was a splendid plan, a stunt that he'd read about and seen in all kinds of movies in various forms. It was supposed to be the climactic moment, the first time the two were in love, in public, in true pose! Instead, all Khcenac earned was a shove away, and the moniker 'shitbird', which had never hurt before, but now it finally did, because it was Matt saying it, in earnest, in frustration, in anger.

And now the shitbird sat, still a little shell-shocked, on a bench in the Security lobby.

A few minutes passed, and Matt arrived through the doors Khcen had fled through. His tail was between his legs, but he still had that guarded demeanor of an Officer on duty, arms folded up like he might have to block a strike to his chest. Instead, he just melted into the bench across from Khcenac, barely taking a breath.

He wanted to speak first. Every bone in his body made him want to speak first. Instead, he waited without wanting to, and Khcenac chittered the first words. "It was quite, a-a... well, poorly... poorly thought out stunt."

"I'm sorry for calling you a shitbird," Matt blurted out. He bit his lip. "I'm sorry that I'm not ready for this whole thing. I get that you were trying to do one of those big flashy gestures for me."

"Well," Khcen muttered softly, "I like to do those big flashy gestures. I suppose, at the very heart of this matter, I need to hold hands with you in public, I need to call you cupcake and see you go red."

The human unfolded his arms and held them up with a bit of incredulosity. "That's... that's all great, but, J-Jesus, I feel like I'm sprinting to keep up with you. I don't ever have the energy for any of that. You're always putting up these insanely romantic things at me, and speaking Tradeband in ways I have no idea how to do, and I'm just sitting here, like..." He feigned a grimace. "Oh, cool, Khcen, that's nice. Like, I feel like a dick."

The bird sunk his head. "It's a heap of adjustment for my love-dove soul, to have you be so rebuff to my advances. We only spend mornings and nights together. I feel as if I'm compensating by smothering you in it when we spend time, and clearly it's... it's too much."

"I know, I..." Matt shook his head weakly. "I know. I've been thinking about it, and..." He glanced off, trying to find the words, or words that weren't so blunt. "I'm not ready for a relationship. It's not even that I don't think it'd be great, it's that... fuck, Khcen, I'm not mature enough. I still worry what the hell people would think of me. I don't know how to reciprocate all the endless stuff you're piling on me. I can't just hold your hand in public, it's just... it's something I can't do." He took in a long, long breath, looking at Khcenac, whose gaze seemed hopeless. "And... I know that you need that stuff."

"I... do," the bird cawed.

The human gripped at the bench, rocking forth and back a bit.

Khcenac pausd a while. He already knew what this whole thing meant. Only a short while prior, with Atchki, he'd experienced a similar enough moment, when the whole facade had come crashing down. It made him want to hold it all in and remain composed, but instead, he broke. Not like a piece of machinery with gasoline and flames, but like a music box that had skipped a few too many notes and had finally given up. Beak held tightly closed, he began to cry quietly, swallowing in a desperate attempt not to yelp out.

To his credit, Matt understood, and nodded weakly. He was too exasperated and embarrassed to cry at the time, but he shared in that hopeless agony, and murmured, "I'm sorry, f-for... this."

"I-It's... alright." Khcen wiped at his eyes. "I don't know why I get l-like this. What an embarrassment o-of a Vox, hh-ah."

"Hey." Matt, for the first time all day, was finally comfortable reassuring the poor bird. "You're not an embarrassment of a Vox, come on. I've never come this close to actually being a boyfriend to a bird." He lowered his head, managing a weak chuckle. "...you've helped me along a lot."

But, despite the sweet words, Khcenac knew that this meant it was over. He couldn't describe that awful, awful swirling feeling in his chest. "You're, a-ah, going to return to your cohort, I-I suppose?"

The man shrugged slowly. "Nahhh, I don't think so." He broke out a soft little laugh. "My 'cohort' are dicks, and... you're a hell of a lot nicer than them. How about I just... g-get you some ice cream, instead? I owe you that much, f-for shoving you around." With this little offer, he smiled warmly, amidst the heartbreak.

Khcen chortled through his tears. "Th-that'd be nice, Officer."

"Then I'll be right back."

And as Matt stood up to leave, it was the last time he did so as Khcenac's boyfriend.


Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

https://rentry.co/cesiax

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Pub: 26 Feb 2021 23:25 UTC
Edit: 28 Feb 2021 22:41 UTC
Views: 1233