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They're lying on their backs, gazing at the stars, and Dome knows it’s not real but Khatha's shoulder certainly feels solid enough against him, his arm a long line of heat against Dome's body. He isn't sure if the warmth is because of the other body or because the body is Khatha's, but he likes it. Wants to turn onto his side so that he can get even closer, feel the warm arms encircle him and pull him to Khatha’s chest, wants to tilt his head up and -
Dome shakes his head, closing his eyes. Don't get carried away, he tells himself. It has become something of a mantra of his in the past weeks, the mixed signals the real Khatha sends confusing and exciting him by turns, and now there is a tinge of real desperation to the words. When he thinks of how close he'd come to blurting out his jumbled, fluttering feelings…
Seeing Khatha's past with Chan had put it all into horrible perspective. The way Khatha kept running hot and cold with him, the way he never seemed to know whether he wanted to pull Dome closer or push him away. The look he'd get in his eyes sometimes, when he didn't think Dome was paying attention. Arrested, enchanted. But not for Dome, he knows that now. Those looks and gestures had never been for him, not really. Dome just had the bad luck to own the face of the person Khatha really wanted. All Dome could ever be to him was a constant, cruel reminder of what he'd lost.
An elbow digs lightly into his side, and Dome looks over at the man he conjured from loneliness and longing. He's smiling at him softly, eyes reflecting the night sky, and Dome thinks that he can understand Khatha's need to keep him near as well. Why he'd inflict such a punishment on himself.
"What are you thinking about?" Khatha asks, turning to his side and propping his head in one hand. His eyes scan Dome's face. "Nothing good, from the look of you."
"I -" Dome shakes his head again. It's nothing he can say, not even to a figment of his own mind. Instead, he turns to face Khatha, mirroring his position. "This is nice. I don't think I've ever just looked at the stars before." He pauses, then amends with some humor, "at least, not that I remember."
Khatha's smile grows wider. "We should definitely take the time to do it again, then," he says, and it's all wrong even though it's exactly what Dome wants to hear. He feels his smile fade.
"I don’t think that's something that will ever happen," he says softly, and Khatha scoffs at him.
"Well, not if you act like that." He shifts closer, eyes gleaming. "You know all you have to do is ask."
Dome swallows and licks his lips. "Ask what?"
Khatha gives him a playful nudge. "You know."
He does. They both do. It sits between them, the thing that Dome wants, nearly as tangible as the artifacts surrounding them, and far more dangerous.
Dome shakes his head, and Khatha gives him a smirk that is far too knowing.
“No? You sure?”
Dome isn’t sure, not really. Khatha leans in, pressing his advantage. “What have you got to lose, really?”
My self-respect? Dome thinks wryly, but Khatha only gives him an exasperated look, like he’s heard Dome’s objection and thinks he’s being silly. Maybe he is. He’s been trapped here for he doesn’t know how long with only another man’s memories for company, and he’s so desperately lonely he’s conjured himself a facsimile of that same man out of thin air. Dome’s eyes trace the familiar features of Khatha’s face. He’s never going to get what he truly wants, even if he does get back home, but he can have a shadow of it here. And a part of him must really want the false face, or else why would this Khatha be pushing for it so hard?
Maybe, he tells himself, knowing it for the lie it is but helpless to stop, if he takes this one thing, it will make letting the wish for more go easier.
He capitulates without a word, ignoring the satisfied look on Khatha’s face. But he can't ask for it out loud. Even here, with only himself and his imagination for company. He already feels silly enough. So he doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, tilts his head, and waits.
At first, there is nothing, and Dome is about to open his eyes and pretend to forget everything about the last few minutes when he feels a hand on his cheek. It's soft, barely brushing against his skin, and Dome's lips part slightly, not quite with his permission.
The lips that brush his are so gentle that Dome wants to cry. They slip against his once, twice, before finally clinging, but through it all the kiss stays soft, so soft.
It's too much. Dome rips away, breathing hard, eyes still closed. He rolls onto his back and clenches his hands into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. This was a mistake. He wants, wants so badly that it's almost a physical ache, but he can't have, and rather than play pretend what he should do - no, what he needs to do - is make himself okay with it. He needs to do that now, do it here, before he goes back. If he doesn't the real Khatha will find out, will see it in his eyes and then Dome will have to watch Khatha's own eyes fill with horrible pity, watch him fumble for a way to turn him down gently. That’s the last thing he wants.
Dome breathes deeply, forcing his fingers to uncurl. He sits up and opens his eyes.
Khatha is watching him, his face wreathed with concern, but when Dome looks directly at him it smooths away to be replaced by a bland look. For a brief second Dome thinks he’s going to say something, some stupid thing that will make him feel even more ashamed of what he’s done here, but then he smiles and carries on as if Dome’s brief lapse into insanity had never happened. He keeps his distance from that point on, though, as though he knows that Dome won’t want to be touched. But then of course he does. He’s is Dome, after all.
It's only later that Dome realizes this. He can’t help the bitter laugh it forces out of him, and when June asks why he’s smiling like that, he turns his head away and doesn’t answer.
~****~
Dome knows that he should be far more terrified than he currently feels. But it’s hard to be as scared as he knows he should when he’s got Khatha with him. Khatha, utterly, impossibly real, who traveled an entire universe to get here and says he isn’t sure how to get them home but that he's confident they’ll find a way. Dome doesn’t know how long he expects it to take, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him one way or the other. In fact, he seems satisfied enough to just be here at all, his fingers clasped firmly around Dome’s own and his eyes finding his every few seconds, less like he’s confirming Dome’s still there and more like he just wants the pleasure of smiling and seeing Dome smile back.
He tells himself not to be ridiculous, but Khatha’s joy is obvious even amid the danger they’re in; it spills over and onto Dome, mixing with his own relief and delight to make him feel almost giddy. He’s tired, he’s cold, and he’s half convinced that at any moment someone new will come flying out of the trees surrounding them brandishing a weapon, but even with all of that he finds he feels protected, like Khatha won’t let him come to any harm.
Dome vows to himself that he will do the same.
Night falls before they stop moving, and when they do Dome all but collapses, turning onto his back to stare up at the sky. His whole body aches, and he groans softly, knowing that unless Khatha figures out a way to send them back home it’ll be more of the same tomorrow. Khatha smiles at him, fond, then moves to stretch out next to him, not quite close enough to touch but still close enough that Dome can feel him there, and he sighs, feeling oddly content in spite of his sore muscles.
“The moons are kind of pretty,” he says, and Khatha lets out a small hum of agreement next to him. Unbidden, Dome’s memory flashes to his time in Limbo, to watching the stars with his imaginary Khatha and wishing that he could do it again with the real one, and a small sound of amusement escapes him.
“What?” Khatha asks. Dome can hear an answering smile in his voice. This smiling, more relaxed version of Khatha is new, but Dome likes it. He likes that he can already tell that the weight Khatha had always carried on his shoulders is gone, that he seems looser, freer. Happier. Dome isn’t sure what exactly happened between him and Chan, but he knows that whatever it was finally scrubbed away the guilt that Khatha had been carrying for so long. Chan is gone for good, now, but Dome wishes there was a way that he could talk to him, just once, to thank him for setting Khatha free.
“I was just thinking that I think I prefer doing this here over Limbo,” he says. “The stars were pretty there, too, but it’s better with you here. The real you, I mean.”
“Real me?”
Dome shakes his head. “Never mind.” He doesn’t want to talk about his time in Limbo, doesn’t want to think of what he saw there. He just wants to enjoy the night sky with Khatha and hopefully get a few hours of sleep before they have to get moving again.
He shivers. The ground is cold and the night air is rapidly cooling the sweat on his body, chilling him further. Katha sits up and removes his suit jacket, making to place it over Dome, but Dome shakes his head, pushing it away.
“No, then you’ll be cold,” he says. “I’m fine. I’ll just –“ he rubs his hands briskly along his arms, attempting to generate a little heat.
Khatha watches him a moment, looking uncertain, then says, “We could share. Body heat,” he adds when Dome doesn’t answer right away, rushing the words out. “We’d both be less cold if we huddle together.”
It doesn’t take Dome long to decide. It would mean being close to Khatha, and he wants that, craves it even more than he had before. Sure, he might give himself away, but he sort of did that already, and Khatha hadn’t seemed to mind, hadn’t shied away from him or looked at him with pity in his eyes for his unrequited feelings. Besides, he really would like to be warmer.
“Okay,” he says, and Khatha’s shoulders immediately relax. He lies back down next to Dome, closer than before, and spreads his jacket out on top of them. It doesn’t quite manage to cover them both when they’re on their backs, and Dome immediately solves the problem by turning onto his side, snuggling shamelessly into Khatha’s warmth. Now he has permission to be close he plans to take full advantage.
Khatha hesitates briefly, then turns to face him as well, his arm wrapping securely around Dome’s waist. Dome sighs and squeezes impossibly closer. He’s not exactly comfortable, doubts there’s any real way to be so considering their circumstances, but it feels good to be pressed up against Khatha like this. To be held. He curls his own arm around Khatha and buries his head in his shoulder.
“I missed you,” he says into the fabric of his shirt, voice very soft. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”
Khatha’s arm tightens. “Dome,” he says, sounding gut punched, and then his arm moves from around him, fingers finding their familiar place under Dome’s chin, tilting his head up so that he has no choice but to look directly into Khatha’s eyes as he says, “I will always come for you. Always. It doesn’t matter where you are, or when. I won’t ever leave you all alone.”
Now it’s Dome who feels like he’s been punched, breath stopping in his chest. His fingers curl into the back of Khatha’s shirt and his eyes sting. He blinks rapidly.
“I want that, too,” he says. “I want to be by your side, always.”
Katha’s face breaks into a wide, relieved smile, and Dome can only stare up at him in confusion, wondering at the relief. Does he truly not know how Dome feels? He’s pretty sure he’s been embarrassingly transparent almost from the moment they met, even though he’d told himself over and over not to be. Even now, even knowing that he is more than likely a replacement for the person Khatha wants but can no longer have, he can’t help himself, can’t help but wish -
Dome bites his lip, and Khatha’s gaze flicks down to his mouth. For just a moment, the happy fondness on his face slips into something darker, hungrier, and Dome’s breath stutters in his chest for the second time in as many minutes. It’s only a brief second before Khatha’s eyes dart back up to his, but it doesn’t matter. That fleeting glance has lit something up inside of him, reignited the hope he’d told himself he’d managed to smother.
All you have to do is ask, he thinks. He swallows, licking his lips nervously, and feels another thrill when Khatha’s eyes catch on the movement. This time the gaze lingers, and it gives Dome the push he needs to say the words.
“Would it –“ he starts, but the words aren’t even out of his mouth before he’s leaning up – or maybe it’s Khatha who leans down, he’ll never be sure – and their lips brush.
Dome pulls back almost immediately, and this time it’s very definitely Khatha who leans in, kissing him again, kissing him hard, and it’s nothing like Dome imagined, it’s clumsy and awkward and just shy of too rough but he doesn’t care, can’t care because it’s Khatha, the real Khatha, kissing him like he’s been aching for it as much as Dome.
Khatha nudges him slightly and Dome goes with it, rolling onto his back with Khatha blanketing him. Fingers knock the cap he’s wearing off of his head and slide into his hair, tilting his head so that Khatha can kiss Dome deeper, and Dome can’t help the sound that escapes him at that, or the way he arches up into Khatha’s body, arms reaching up to wind about his neck. He’s dimly aware that the suit jacket has fallen away from them but he no longer needs the warmth, not when it feels like his body is on fire everywhere Khatha’s touching him.
Khatha pulls away and Dome frowns, instinctively chasing his mouth, wanting it back on his. When his blind seeking produces no results, he opens his eyes to find Khatha gazing down at him with something akin to wonder.
“Dome,” he says, voice hushed. Reverent. He leans in again and peppers Dome’s face with soft, sweet kisses. His cheeks, his forehead, the corner of his mouth. “Dome, Dome, Dome.” And Dome holds him and trembles and dares to believe that this, right now, is meant entirely for him and him alone.