In the week leading up to the mission, Cam continued to join Hermes in his after-shift workouts. He hadn’t been this busy since attending Earthguard training.

“You’re really taking this whole mission thing seriously,” said Soen from Cam’s bed, still naked and damp from their “recreational activities.”

“Well, we leave in two days. If I’m gonna be any use to Hermes, I have to get my shit together.”

“You really like the robot, then.”

Cam shrugged on his sweatpants and stretched, popping his back. “He’s nice.”

“I’m sure he was programmed that way.”

Cam rolled his eyes.

“Why did they pick you to help out with this, anyway?”

Cam turned around, crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, calm down. I’m just saying, like—we have actual sociobiologists and psychologists on board. Surely one of them is more qualified to help Hermes be less awkward and weird. Are you even getting paid?”

“I’m getting Hazard Recognition.” Which included a bump in pay and special accolades that could help him secure even greater jobs in the future.

Soen, who had gotten Hazard Recognition years ago during a stint as an Earthguard soldier, snorted. “Whatever. Just be careful.”

“Oh, are you worried for me, Soen?” Cam’s smile slowly turned fanged. “Care about my health and well-being, do you?”

Soen’s mouth flattened into a line. “Would that be so bad?”

A sneaking hint of anxiety bloomed in Cam’s gut. “Oh.” Shit. He really didn’t like this part. The “I’m having tender feelings for you” part. Cam didn’t do attachments. Casual sex was perfect; why ruin it with things like emotion and commitment and long, meaningful stares?

He had hoped he and Soen would be able to maintain this no-strings-attached arrangement for the length of their assignment aboard Soter. As he looked into Soen’s deep, round, black eyes, Cam knew his hopes were completely dashed.

Damn it.

“Look, Soen—”

Cam’s door sensor pinged behind him. He spun around, blinking curiously. He tapped the security panel by the door and saw Hermes standing outside—holding a box. Without really thinking about it, he opened the door with a press of a button.

“Hey! I didn’t expect you.”

Hermes froze, eyes wide, and Cam realized the scene he painted in front of his very innocent friend. He was wearing gray sweats and nothing else while directly behind him, Soen Tamn was naked and covered only by the blankets of Cam’s bed.

“Hold please,” Cam said, slamming his hand on the door-close panel. The door swished shut. He turned around and gestured at Soen wildly. “Get up. Get dressed.”

Tamn groaned. “Come on. I wanted to nap—”

“Do it in your own quarters. Get. Shoo.”

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out for that guy. You’re obsessed—” Soen grumbled as he was forcibly hauled to his feet. He found his uniform and started climbing into it while Cam stumbled to his own wardrobe and located an appropriate white t-shirt.

Once they were dressed—in record time—Cam opened the door again. Hermes was still there, clutching the box between his enormous, strong, bashful hands.

Cam said, “So sorry—” to Hermes as Soen shuffled past him.

Soen laughed as he left. “See you later, Cam.”

Cam didn’t bother responding and instead ushered Hermes into his quarters. “Come in, come in.”

“I did not mean to interrupt your evening—”

“No, you didn’t—” Cam choked. “It’s fine.”

“I believe that I did. Your relationship with Soen Tamn is important.”

“No,” Cam said, rubbing his face. “It’s not like that. We’re… It’s just…”

“You’re having sex,” Hermes said.

“Meaningless sex,” Cam confirmed.

“I did not mean to interrupt.”

“We were done, Hermes. It’s fine.”

Hermes stared down at Cam, a skeptical line of tension between his brows.

Cam, desperate for a topic change, pointed to the box. “What did you bring?”

Hermes lifted it. “I received a gift from Captain Shear. I wanted to share it with you.”

Cam blinked and examined the sealed wrapping paper. “You haven’t even opened it yet.”

Hermes tilted his head. “No.”

“How do you know you’ll be able to share it?”

Hermes looked down at the box, considering. “Oh.”

Cam held back a laugh—he didn’t want Hermes to think he was making fun of him, but—

“I realize my error. You are correct that whatever I’ve been given is likely intended only for me.” He seemed to sink a little on himself. “I apologize.”

“You’re—” Cute. “I can’t believe you wanted me to give you lessons on how to be friendly.” Hermes was basically bursting at the seams to love someone; he was so thoughtful and kind naturally. What good could Cam do? The thought of teaching him how to be a “better” person was laughable.

Hermes hugged the package to himself, obviously uncertain. And maybe a little embarrassed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Go ahead and open it. I’m really curious now.” What would Ship Daddy have given his adopted son, anyway? Cam leaned in, examining the size of the box, trying to clue in on what it could be.

Hermes unfolded the end of the package and the paper fell away, revealing—a wooden box with a very fancy etched glass front. Inside, there was a fine bottle of red wine. Hermes extracted the bottle and examined the label while Cam placed the box upon his crowded desk.

“Well, you certainly got lucky, Hermes,” said Cam.

“Oh?”

“That—” He pointed to the bottle and couldn’t help his grin. “—is something you can share with me.”

Hermes hesitated, nodded, and a small, private smile pulled at his mouth. “Okay. Do you have glasses?”

----------------------------------------

Cameron Ollis was drunk.

“You’re not even that awkward,” he slurred. “Seriously, I don’t know why you’re worried. You really don’t need me around.”

“I lack experience,” Hermes explained, again. “And you are experienced.”

Cam’s flushed face darkened more red. His silvery eyes darted around Hermes’ face in a blurry, half-lidded examination. “Yeah, I am.”

“Our arrangement is simply to teach me the things I need to know.” Hermes reached out to steady Cam as he started to sway forward. “Are you okay?”

“What’re we talking about?” Cam asked, voice slurred. His lips were a little purple from the wine and Hermes tried not to notice.

He cleared his throat and said, “It is not important. Perhaps we should retire you to bed.”

“You gonna tuck me into bed real sweetly? I bet you will. You’re all—sugary sweet—like a very sexy baby. Seven feet tall, 100 year old…baby. With abs,” Cam mumbled, eyes narrowed as he stared, half-focused, into Hermes’ face.

“I will prepare you a glass of water,” Hermes said, jumping to his feet. “Keeping hydrated will alleviate the severity of your hangover symptoms come morning.” Hermes was unaffected by the alcohol in this quantity, thanks to the Medese side of his physiology. He and Cam had split the bottle exactly down the middle, which was a lot for an Earthling, and not too much for Hermes.

Cameron mumbled something incoherent from behind Hermes as he approached the small kitchenette. He fetched a glass from where they were placed inside a clear glass cabinet, rinsed it clean, and filled it with water, trying to keep his elbows from hitting the cabinet, the shelf, or the desk behind him.

Hermes felt like he was incorrectly proportioned quite often—too big for most clothing, too big for most beds, too big for most vehicles—and he was certainly too big for Cam’s quarters. He thought that perhaps most people would be too big for Cam’s quarters, though. The space was very small.

When he turned around, Cam had collapsed into his rumpled bed, sighing, eyes shut. His white shirt was hiked up just past his navel. His skin was pale and soft looking and Hermes had yet to see a belly button in person—he didn’t have one, after all. He placed the glass of water on the small table beside Cam’s bed and sat upon the edge, leaning in to look at his navel, hands hovering above his stomach curiously.

Cam’s eyes were closed before, but at some point he must have opened them, because he asked, “What are you doing?”

Hermes jumped to standing. After a moment, he said, “I apologize.”

Cam pushed himself up to his elbows and his shirt fell down, over his stomach again. “For what?”

“I was about to touch you without your permission.”

Cam groaned and collapsed back down. “I hope I’m sober enough to remember you saying that. Straight into the bank.”

Hermes didn’t understand, but he nodded as if he did. “I will leave n—”

“You have permission to touch me,” Cam said, voice gone high. “If you want.”

“I see.” Hermes shuffled from one foot to the other, back and forth, mind racing to extract the precise meaning of Cam’s permission. Hesitantly, Hermes added, “I will bear that in mind in the future.”

Cam scoffed. “I meant, like, now. You’re so bad at flirting, Hermes.”

“I am inadequate at most social interactions.”

“Yeah, but right now: I’m flirting, and you’re not flirting back.”

“Oh.” Hermes’ mind stopped racing, and instead, was perfectly blank. “Why?”

“Why…” Cam said, eyes squinted open, staring at his ceiling. “I dunno. I just, you know, do that. I like flirting with men. It’s fun.” A smile drifted onto his sleepy face, and his eyes sought out Hermes again. The look—happy, perhaps devious—made Hermes’ breath cat// ch. A s// ong he heard before filled his mi. //nd

His mind . //

Cam said, “Why did you want to touch me?”

And Hermes replied, “I don’t know.”

And Cam stretched back, luxuriating in his bed like some ancient emperor on silk instead of a medium-ranking science officer atop cheap blended fabric. “Try it.”

Hermes, standing next to Cam’s bed, looked to the door, then back to Cam. Was he flirting? Was this flirting? Was this something he needed to know? His fingers twitched at his side as the next question came unbidden: was this something he wanted to know?

Without leaving too much room to overthink, Hermes simply leaned over Cam’s form and placed a hand upon his stomach, the thin shirt a barrier between the two. Warm// th

. / . // Warmth . /

Cam was very still.

Hermes, a year into his corporeal form, still found touch a fascinating sense, and his entire world focused on the soft feeling of cotton against his palm, and the shocking warmth of Cameron’s body beneath his fingertips, and the expanding and contracting of his stomach as he breathed—very shallowly—very carefully.

“I’m so glad I’m drunk right now,” Cameron said, voice just above a whisper.

Hermes had touched his own body many times at this point, fascinated with the shape of his form and the pliability of his skin, but he didn’t feel as warm as Cam. He wanted to curl into the soft, cozy heat of him, and had a sudden compulsion to press his lips to the belly beneath his palm. He resisted, however, and instead pulled Cam’s shirt back just enough to expose the round scar of his belly button. Quietly, he asked, “Did it hurt?”

Cam exhaled, voice trembling “We don’t remember it. When it happens, I mean. Newborns don’t remember stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Hermes’ thumb brushed over Cam’s navel and Cam’s breath hitched, fingers tightening into the sheets. “You do not form memories until years into your life.”

“Yeah.”

“That is fortunate. This would hurt.” his thumb brushed Cam’s belly button again and this time, Cam shivered, skin tightening beneath Hermes’ touch. Hermes withdrew his hand and stood up and took a step back, but the heat of Cam’s body seemed permanently embedded in his fingerprints. His fist clenched tightly at his side. “Thank you,” he said.

Cam rubbed at his face—and groaned—and his tongue was purple like his lips, but Hermes forced himself to look away. “You’re welcome, I guess,” he said. He looked Hermes up and down and said, “You don’t find flirting fun. That wasn’t fun for you.”

“I suppose not.” Fun wasn’t what he would call it. Pleasurable, perhaps. He felt hot, like some of Cam’s natural warmth had spread to him somehow.

Cam laughed and Hermes wasn’t sure why. “Don’t you have something you do for fun? I mean, aside from eating all your vegetables and running on a treadmill every day.”

The music continued in his mind. “I like playing my piano.”

There was a beat of silence before Cameron pushed himself up on his bed to sit against his pillow. “You play the piano.”

Hermes nodded. “I am teaching myself to compose music.”

“And you like it?”

Hermes nodded again.

“You should play for me some time.”

“You would like to hear me play music?”

“Yeah. Of course. I bet you’re really good with your hands.”

Hermes looked down to his fingers. “I do have the advantage of reach, because my fingers are long, and I am able to transition between distant keys easily.”

Cam rolled his eyes. “No, no. This is where you would flirt back. I say that you’re really good with your hands and you say something like, ‘I can show you how good some time.’”

Hermes’ hands tightened into themselves. “I would be happy to play for you some time.”

Cam’s smile melted into something soft. “Okay, fine. Tomorrow, then.”

“That could be inadvisable. Music could make the condition of your hangover worse—”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you after work tomorrow. Your quarters. Not the Training Quarter.”

“Okay.”

Cam relaxed back into his bed and sighed, shifting into his sheets. “Thank god. I’m sick of working out.” He seemed to drift off a bit as his voice quieted to a whisper. “Goodnight, Hermes.”

“Good night, Cameron.”

That night, Hermes couldn’t sleep. His hand sat warm at his side.