Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Chan’s new cargo speaks is about three days after he responds to the distress signal from a low class dragonfly out in the black between Athenia and Apollito. Dragonflys are smaller vessels than his own, their original purpose transport of people or cargo between ships and planets. However, these days, the dragonflys are often repurposed by companions. What better way to offer privacy than to fly out into space for it, after all?

The ship Chan had found in the black had looked like a repurposed dragonfly, often nicknamed a butterfly. Once he had connected his own wren class cargo ship to the butterfly, he’d stepped right into a beautifully decorated hallway, tapestries hiding the metal walls, a soft carpet cushioning the floor. Changbin’s warnings had fallen on deaf ears as he’d slowly continued further into the ship, blaster ready in hand in case of an ambush.

The only thing he’d found in the end was who he assumed to be the companion himself. The man had been lying on the bed almost peacefully, hands folded over his chest, eyes closed. A few attempts to rouse him had made it clear he was unconscious, after which Chan had immediately mobilised the other members of his crew to help him out.

The companion had been transported to the Wanderer and put into Felix’s capable hands. He’d remained unconscious for another two nights and two days.

Now, with another night cycle having started and Chan the only one awake, it seems the man has woken up.

“Where are we headed?”

Not ‘who are you’, not ‘where am I’, but not a tentative greeting either. A simple, direct, meaningful question. A question Chan can work with.

“Aphrodesia,” he offers, looking out into the star-filled black a moment longer before turning to face the man. Standing up straight, he looks somehow a lot more dangerous than he did before. Unconscious, he’d looked a little frail, half-healed bruises on the pale skin of his arms and soft hair falling over long-lashed eyes.

Awake, the cold intensity of his gaze belies every bit of softness there’d been to him before. Someone who’s seen his fair share of danger, no doubt.

“We figured you could use some proper medical help. You were out for three days and nights.”

The man looks fine now, though, standing up straight and eyeing Chan like he’s personally offended every single one of his forefathers. He’s leaning against the side of the flight deck door quite relaxed, arms loosely folded over his chest, almost like he wasn’t surprised at all to wake up somewhere unknown.

But what does Chan know? Perhaps for a companion that isn’t so strange a thing at all.

“How long?”

“We should reach it by morning.”

“Could’ve taken me to Apollito,” the companion states. It’s not exactly an accusation, but the edge to his voice sounds like one regardless. “Closer by where I stranded. Would’ve only taken a day from there to Aphro.”

Chan turns fully, levelling his cargo with an unimpressed look. The man seems uncowed, looking back without a hint of remorse or care. After a good minute, however, the man’s resolve seems to crack slightly and he averts his gaze to the side.

“Aphrodesia’s got a shipyard,” Chan allows after a moment longer of meaningful silence. “It’ll be much easier to find the parts to fix your butterfly there.”

“Did you ping its location?” The man immediately asks, his posture straightening, head lifting. There’s a sudden intensity to his gaze, more so than there was in the beginning. Chan turns away to look out towards the stars again.

“Didn’t need to. My mechanic got the engine to work just enough we’re not dragging dead weight.” He puts a hand down on the control panel, activating the screen and immediately prompting the system to show their tail camera feed. Just far enough behind them not to get damaged by their engine exhaust, the butterfly flies along, attached to the Wanderer with four heavy chains. Just then, a light flickers on on its flight deck.

“Cap’n?” The voice crackles softly over the line, clearly intended to keep from waking him should he have been asleep. Another two clicks and Jisung’s face comes into view, Chan’s own no doubt projected onto the butterfly’s communication screen.

“I’m listening, Sung.”

“Did what I could for the engine. It’s gonna need a new incinerator and two f–” Jisung’s voice breaks off, his gaze flicking to the left. Chan turns his head to glance over his right shoulder, finding the companion stepped closer. He keeps a reassuring distance, though, and seems to simply be looking at Jisung’s face on the screen as well.

“Hm, our guest woke up,” Chan offers up belatedly, turning back to Jisung. His mechanic’s eyes are still stuck to his left, but he can’t really blame his friend. The companion is handsome, after all, even with the distrust radiating off him in waves as it did earlier. “He thinks we should have dropped him off on Apollito. Aphrodesia’s too far away apparently.”

There’s an audible roll of his eyes to accompany the words. They make Jisung’s gaze shift back to him, then immediately flick to the left once more.

“I apologise,” the companion says, his voice smooth and much softer than before. It must be a companion trick, the sudden change, the way his voice sounds like warm sand being poured down Chan’s back this time around. “I didn’t know you were hauling my ship along. Thank you. It will save me a lot of trouble trying to get it fixed.”

“It took quite some damage,” Jisung immediately pipes up. “What happened?”

Curious to a fault, his mechanic, but Chan can’t particularly blame him. There’d been no sign of a fight aboard the butterfly, and yet the companion had been knocked out cold for so many days. Its engine had taken quite some damage as well, but not from a pulse cannon. Unable to hide his own curiosity, Chan turns his head to face the companion as well.

His gaze is still fixed on the communication screen, but he looks over a moment after Chan does. The intensity of his gaze has softened, swapped for a burning fire behind his eyes. It’s not aimed at Chan, that much he can tell, but it’s certainly a hotly blazing anger nonetheless.

“I was tricked.”

It seems to be all the explanation the man plans to give, his lips tightening into a thin line, his eyes narrowing briefly as he stares into something far beyond Chan’s face.

“Hello tricked,” Jisung chimes cheekily over the comm line. “Do you have another name we can call you by?”

It brings the companion’s gaze back to the communication screen. His features are hard lines for a moment longer before they soften into something of a smile.

“You can call me Lino.” His voice has gone soft again, a sudden gentle warmth in it that almost sounds like the way silk feels. “Whose company do I have the pleasure of finding myself in right now?”

“That’d be our captain Bang Chan at your service,” Jisung trills in the same preppy tone. Chan doesn’t even need to look at him to know he’s got a shiteating grin on his face. “He’ll happily take your gratitude in the form of payment.”

Lino’s eyes find Chan’s, his smile softening down to something syrupy sweet, the look in his eyes sending molten heat down his spine. Before the companion can speak, Chan lifts a hand to wave off whatever comment he might make.

“We’ll set you down near the shipyard. I assume you can get funds for the replacement parts you need.” He doesn’t say they won’t stick around, assumes it’s a given. “Sung, get some sleep. In the morning we’ll see if the shipyard has that part you needed. Goodnight.”

He closes the comm line without waiting for a response, straightening up and turning back to his temporary guest. “The Wanderer’s no place for your tricks,” he tells him without further ado. “If you try to come on to my crew, I’ll be giving you an early exit off this vessel.”

Lino’s eyes spark, but Chan meets their indignation with quiet disapproval. “I do not trust your kind,” he admits easily. “But I bear you no ill will as long as you show none. You should let our medic give you a check up in the morning, he’s the one who patched you up. Those bruises looked bad.”

He holds eye contact for a moment longer before turning back to the window shield, gaze fixing on the distant stars once more. It doesn’t take long for the sound of Lino’s footsteps to signal his departure from the flight deck.

-+-

Somehow, Chan knew that Lino would prove to be a larger disruption in his life than the three day detour it took to drop him off on Aphrodesia. He’s granted a few weeks of peace, sure. A few trips across the black to transport goods from one place to the other, several counts of mediocre but acceptable pay, a couple more sleepless nights in between.

But then he walks into a bar on Tohile only to find the companion leaning back on a silken couch, twirling the ancient necklace Chan and his crew came to get between his fingers.

“Hello boys,” he greets them with a devilish little smile and a definitely dangerous glint to his eyes. In the three seconds it takes him to cross the distance between them and the companion, Chan weighs the pros and cons of dropping this job before they’ve even fully started it. But it promised good pay and they can use some coin right now. Jisung said one of the burners is close to breaking and Felix needs supplies.

Not to mention they need food. Rations, for sure, but preferably also some fresh foodstuffs. He hasn’t eaten an orange in a while, and he’s not particularly fond of getting the space fever.

So he takes the last few steps without faltering and comes to a stop across from Lino. His hand rests on the grip of his gun, ready for anything. His expression remains a steady neutral.

“Do we know him, cap?” Seungmin asks, voice a little gruffer than usual, his trusty shotgun slung over his shoulder casually. Chan bites back the smile that threatens to overtake him because of it and gives a minute shake of his head.

“Not in any way that matters,” he replies without taking his eyes off the companion.

“I’m offended,” Lino drawls with a smirk, tilting his head a little to the side. His gaze roams their little group, wandering over the different faces before coming back to Chan. “Where’s your mechanic? I liked him.”

“Where a mechanic should be,” Chan counters dryly. “In the engine room. So what’s the deal? You need your jewellery transported?”

“Me and my jewellery, actually.” There’s a spark of joy in those eyes, and then that syrupy sweet smile Chan’s seen imprinted on the back of his eyelids a few nights too many. This time he’s in no position to cut the companion off, though, so he’s forced to undergo it for as long as Lino wants to keep it up. “Both of us have to arrive safely on Izanaye in five days time. Think you can make that?”

Against all business etiquette, Chan rolls his eyes again. “We took the job, didn’t we?” He counters a little more sharply than he should. He can feel Changbin’s gaze burning holes in the back of his head, but duly ignores it. “As long as you don’t cause us delay.”

Lino’s eyes narrow, but after a moment his smile widens. “I’ll be on my best behaviour,” he offers up lightly, bringing crossed fingers up to his face to press his lips against them lightly. A teasing pledge. Another image Chan will find burned on his eyelids on sleepless nights, no doubt. The slope of those lips was not made for mere men to resist. “Where are you docked? I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll have to be there tonight if you want to arrive timely.” This time, Chan’s words are not a challenge, simply information given. “Tomorrow morning would make us, and thus you, fashionably late.”

“Mhm.” The companion’s smile flickers, before it settles on another easy grin. “Wouldn’t want to be fashionably late to my own wedding, would I?” He shifts then, muscles in his arms shifting, the tattoos on his skin rippling with movement as he pushes himself to stand. “Tonight, it is. Where are you docked, captain?”

“Just east of here. Block fifty-nine. You can’t miss her.”

Lino salutes him, two fingers to his temple, and then turns to walk away. Chan watches the bar staff scramble to gather his silks and follow after him for a second longer before he turns around and walks away himself.

-+-

Changbin accosts him outside the bar, taking an extra step to flank him and glancing around briefly before giving him his full attention.

“What were you doing pissing off our client?” He asks, voice low enough to only be heard by Chan, but brow furrowed deep enough to show his displeasure. It only pulls a world-weary sigh from deep in Chan’s chest, really.

“It’s not even a real job, Bin. The guy just wants to flutter his eyelashes at our crew and see who bites. Either it’s a last hurrah before he gets married or this wedding isn’t even real.” He shrugs off Changbin’s judging stare and lets his gaze wander over the people on the market square. It’s not too busy this time of day, but busy enough for people’s feet to kick up enough dry sand his eyes are stinging.

“Whatever it is, the money is real, isn’t it?”

Before he can so much as comment, Seungmin lets out a huff. “The money better be real. And just so you know, I’m not sharing my space. If you want us to transport a person, you can give up your own quarters for him.”

“Cap’n never sleeps in 'em anyway,” Changbin jokes, but the look in his eyes is far from humorous, the underlying worry easy for Chan to spot.

“Someone needs to make sure we don’t go adrift in the black,” he fires back, grinning as he adds: “Otherwise we’d have to make our sweet Innie stay up.”

“Unthinkable,” Seungmin immediately agrees, though there’s a vein of amusement in his dry tone. “The baby needs a full night’s sleep, his brain still hasn’t properly developed.” His mercenary shakes his head and then flashes them his signature grin. “Old people usually stop sleeping through the night anyway. Don’t need as much energy to keep those brittle bones moving.”

Chan only ever responds for Seungmin’s joy anymore, pretending like he’s going to smack the man even as he’s fighting off his own smile. This time, though, he doesn’t react at all, too busy making sure no one in their vicinity is going to be a threat to his crew. Or at least the part of his crew he brought with him.

“War’s over, cap’n,” Seungmin calls him out when they round the corner and leave the busier square. His voice holds the hints of a tease, but he doesn’t push it too far. Chan’s glad for it, because he doesn’t think he could’ve taken anything more as a joke just now.

“But people are still assholes,” he offers in return, giving a nod of his head for Changbin to take the lead. Once his second in command steps out in front of them, Chan turns to face the mercenary, letting his gaze briefly wander Seungmin’s face. “Wouldn’t want my second youngest to be ambushed, would I? The doc would have my head.”

Seungmin makes a face, but laughs after anyway. “Felix would chop off his own hands before he’d so much as reach out a finger to harm you,” he says with ample humour and Chan hums.

“I would chop off everyone else’s hands if they reached out a finger to harm him,” he counters the statement easily. “That’s what loyalty and trust brings you. You should try it some time, merc, you might like it.”

Seungmin bares his teeth in something like a threat before he’s laughing again, reaching out his free hand to bump it into Chan’s shoulder. “How much longer are you going to rub that in my face, ge?” He asks, delighted.

Chan shrugs. “Until you’re on your knees asking for forgiveness.”

Seungmin’s side-eye is truly impressive. “That ain’t ever going to happen.”

“Forever then,” Chan easily acquiesces, but there’s a smile playing at his lips regardless. “Shouldn’t have ditched us for another ship if you didn’t want this.” He lifts an arm and easily slings it around Seungmin’s shoulders, pulling the mercenary into his side.

“You’d rather I’d be like Jisung?” Seungmin counters from where he’s being half-squished, grin audible in his voice. “One of these days he’s going to weld himself into the Wanderer’s engine and you’ll never be able to call it your ship again.”

The teasing makes Chan grumble out his displeasure and protest. He doesn’t know how to put the equal parts annoyance and fondness he feels for his engineer into words, however, so he doesn’t even try. Instead he keeps Seungmin pulled down by the arm around his neck for several more steps before releasing him with a little shove and a ruffle of his hair.

Seungmin’s stint on the other ship was brief and led by an intense bout of the heart sickness that is love. Chan might not agree with it, but he also can’t really blame the younger man for it. Stars know they’ve all done stupid things for love.

Chan would know. He might have been the stupidest of all.

-+-

Lino shows up just an hour before Tohile’s ports close, cutting it dangerously short. Not only that but he doesn’t show up alone. When Changbin lets down the ramp to allow entry to their new passenger, Chan comes face to face with six large chests, Lino himself wrapped in fancy drapes and an equally stunning man flanking his left. This man’s eyes are lined with black kohl, his lips tinted a little darker and his figure tall but slender.

Chan barely spares him a glance before looking at Lino. “Extra cargo is going to cost you more. We didn’t plan rations for two extra people.”

He sees the other man shift in his periphery while Lino’s smile once again widens into something equal parts beautiful and dangerous. “That’s alright,” the companion says, motioning a hand at the chests. “We brought enough to feed ourselves. We won’t force you to starve.”

He puts himself in motion then, walking up onto the ramp and into the Wanderer’s belly. “This is Genie,” he introduces the stranger with a vague wave of his hand as he does. A moment later, he’s pushing a stack of credits against Chan’s abdomen. “Here’s his travel fee. Do let me know if it’s not enough.”

With that, the companion passes him by, already heading further inside. The man by name of Genie stops a few steps away from him, dipping into a brief bow. Chan stares him down for a good few seconds before looking down at the credits in his hand. The stack is larger than half of what Lino owes them for the job in total, enough to buy the Wanderer a whole new engine if they’d want to, probably.

Although maybe a second hand one, not new.

“Tell the doc he’s rooming with Sung,” he says to Changbin as he’s already turning away from the second passenger. “And get the merc to haul those chests in. You take this and get us some stuff.”

He doesn’t have to tell Changbin exactly what he means, because Changbin knows when Chan pushes some of the credits into his hands that he wants him to get fresh food for the crew. So he lets his second go and casually walks further into the Wanderer himself, to catch up to the companion, who’s looking around their cargo hold.

“You two can stay in the doc’s room for this trip. It’s close to the med bay, further away from the flight deck. Easy access to the mess hall.” When his gaze meets Lino’s, the companion’s already (or still) smiling. His eyes hold the look of a predator, but Chan’s long stopped letting himself become prey. “If you need any help, the doc will happily entertain you. Don’t bother the rest of my crew, they’ll all be working.”

As he precedes the two men into the hallway that holds their small private rooms, he vaguely motions a hand at the few important areas. “This is where we eat, that’s where we sleep, you guys are in here. Don’t roam around, you’ll only get in the way. If you need more space, you can find it in the cargo hold. Your things will be brought to you shortly. Any questions?”

He doesn’t want to offer up his time, but something tells him if he hadn’t asked, Lino would have found a way to keep him regardless. Now, the companion’s smile is less of a wolfish grin and more the look of a cat who got the cream.

“Are any of your men in need of some relaxation? We’ll be happy to help.” There’s a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, the companion taking a step closer. Chan easily sidesteps the advance and offers up a polite, meaningless smile.

“The doc’s good at massages, so we’re all good here. No need for worries. You can take a break on this trip and prepare for your wedding. I’m sure you’ve got many things to arrange. I expect you’ll be occupied for the whole trip?”

“Oh, no doubt!” Lino agrees wholeheartedly, smile sharpening, and Chan decides to pretend he didn’t notice any of it.

“I’ll let you get settled in then,” he says instead, turning around and walking right back out of the room to go store the credits.

-+-

The first few days are fine. In so far as being haunted by the sight and sound of one’s cargo can be fine, of course. Chan sees Lino in his mind’s eye even when he’s not in the room, yet still the companion strives to annoy him as much as possible when he is. Chan avoids him as often as he can simply by spending as much time as he can on the flight deck from which he has always banned passengers.

In turn, Lino ingratiates himself not just with Felix, but Jisung as well. He makes fast friends with them and is often heard making them laugh in distant hallways. Even Seungmin seems mildly amused by the companion’s behaviour.

Lino’s friend is a much easier passenger, spending a lot of his time in his quarters and conversing quietly with people when he comes out into the cargo hold. Whenever they pass each other, Genie always bows politely at Chan, keeps his head low and doesn’t provoke the way Lino does.

A much better guest, he thought, which makes it all the worse when after a little over two days, he opens the door to his cabin only to find Genie standing in the hallway, clearly startled by the sight of him.

“Did you need anything?” Chan asks, shorter about it than he maybe should be, but he’s equally startled by the companion’s presence.

“Oh, uh, I was just…” The companion trails off, gaze briefly flicking past Chan. He steps forward, out of his room, and closes the door behind him. Genie’s eyes immediately shoot back to his face. “Sorry, I was just wondering if you would mind if I spent some time up there with Jeongin. I love the stars and he said they’d be great to view from the pilot’s chair. Not that I want to pilot, of course, or be in the chair, but–”

“No passengers allowed on the flight deck,” Chan cuts him off without further ado, already sidestepping the man to be able to walk past him to get to the mess hall.

“Is it a concentration thing?” Genie still asks behind him. “Because I can be quiet. Or if I’m not allowed inside, maybe I could look through from just beyond the doorway?”

The words bring him to a stop again, torn between another sharp denial and the genuine plea in the man’s voice. He stares down one of the Wanderer’s panels like it personally offended his bloodline before clenching his teeth and turning around. There’s only one road to take, really.

“Is it that companions inherently think they’re above the rules, or is that just you two?” He asks, watching the way Genie’s expression immediately falls, the man’s mouth opening slightly. Chan gives him no chance to speak. “I’ve told you this when you came on board, but I’ll tell you one more time. My crew is on board to work. What they do in their off time is up to them, but I won’t allow you to disturb them while they’re working. You’ll have to make do with each other.”

Turning away again after those words, he strides away, combat boots thudding heavily on the metal flooring. He doesn’t pause or glance back even once, making a beeline for the flight deck. He relieves Jeongin of his duty with a pat on his shoulder and a motion of his head, which seems to be enough for the pilot to know not to ask questions.

Yet his peace only lasts for a couple of hours. The moment Changbin comes to let him take a break, Lino accosts him four steps out into the hallway, blocking his path with eyes flashing and his head held high.

Chan simply shoulders him aside.

It earns him a low grunt and then fingers clutching onto his arm, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “Captain Bang,” the companion starts, but Chan whirls on him, using the fact that the man is clutching on to his arm to push him against the wall with it. The panels clang when Lino’s back collides with them, the companion’s eyes widening a fraction.

“You paid for passage on a cargo ship. We’re made to transport goods, not people. You knew this when coming aboard. If you don’t like the way you’re being treated, we’ll happily set down on the nearest planet and you and your friend can find yourselves a luxury cruiser to take you to your dream wedding destination. Unless it’s ‘yes, please’, I don’t want to hear another word from you. I’m the captain of this ship, not your gorram plaything!”

There must be something in his voice, or perhaps his gaze, that shows how thin his patience has gotten, because Lino’s fiery defiance seeps away throughout his last words. He doesn’t wait to see which emotion replaces it, simply pulling his arm out of the powerless hold of the companion’s fingers and stomping away to go take a quick ten-minute power nap.

-+-

He was certain that after the encounter he’d see a whole new level of annoying from the companion, but instead it’s like Lino disappears from the Wanderer. He still spots Genie in the mess hall or the cargo bay sometimes, but there’s no more peals of laughter in the hallways or obnoxious fluttering of eyelashes his way at dinner.

By the time they leave the Maiyan galaxy, he almost thinks Jeongin must have set the ship down and let the companion off during one of the rare moments he was asleep.

Except that very same night, when a bout of insomnia leaves him awake at three in the morning, he finds Lino sitting on the steps down to the cargo bay, fingers absentmindedly toying with something, gaze fixed on infinity. He startles at Chan’s first step on the metal flooring, head shooting up but shoulders relaxing again almost immediately at the sight of him.

Chan barely acknowledges him as he continues on to the side of the cargo bay to open a side panel and take out one of his well-hidden midnight snacks. He’s mid third bite of chocolate flavoured protein bar when the companion speaks.

“You haven’t asked about my wedding.”

Lino’s voice is soft, free of the put-upon charm or the accusations, low in a genuine kind of way. Chan doesn’t turn around, but he doesn’t ignore him either.

“It’s none of my business.”

There’s a momentary silence that allows him to finish his protein bar before the companion speaks again.

“If I apologise, will you let Hyunjin see the stars from the flight deck?”

Chan turns around slowly, not sure what he’ll be faced with when he does, but finding himself unable not to look. Lino’s still sitting on the steps, arms folded loosely over his thighs, torso bent a little forward, his eyes immediately meeting Chan’s gaze though holding none of their usual fire. The look he’s levelled with is almost tentative now.

“He really loves the stars, but he hasn’t had many chances to be up here. I know I’m the reason you won’t let him go onto the flight deck. I’m sorry. He won’t distract your pilot and he won’t try to seduce anyone.” There’s a brief pause before Lino sighs. “And I won’t use it to demand you allow me there too, either, Chan ge.”

It slides like ice down his spine, that name, sending an uncontrollable shiver through his body that he keeps from showing by pure power of will alone. Holding Lino’s soft gaze proves impossible, however, so Chan quietly turns his gaze away.

“Where’d you fish him up?” He asks instead of giving any kind of answer.

The smile is audible in the companion’s slow exhale, the creaking of metal signalling his movement. “Corax. He owed Trax, I paid. I’m just trying to find him a better place now. He’s a good kid, he’s not made for this life.”

“Unlike you,” Chan says, gaze lifting almost automatically to see Lino’s reaction to his words. It comes in the form of a slow, mirthless smile and a long moment of eye contact.

“I’m good at my job,” Lino eventually says. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

Chan scoffs, immediately turning his gaze away and putting the side panel back in place so he can leave the cargo bay through the side door.

“Chan gege,” Minho says before he can make his escape and Chan’s powerless to keep from looking when he’s called so sweetly in that soft voice. “What did I do for you to hate me this much?”

The words bring a wave of both indignation and sadness that washes over his entire body until nothing’s left in its wake but a tired resignation. There’s no way to meet Minho’s gaze when he replies, because even to this day those eyes still haunt him, that smile still chips off a little bit of his heart every time he sees it. Even if he only sees it in his memories.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, voice toneless and cold, offering no proof of the truth behind those words. “But you are who you are, and I am who I am. Those two things are not compatible.”

He turns away from the side panel, walking back to the hallway doors so he can get away from all of this. When he passes by the stairs, however, movement in his periphery makes him stop, shift away, hand reaching for his gun automatically. Lino’s gaze when he looks up and meets it is betrayed, his brow furrowed.

“I wouldn’t harm you,” the companion says from where he’s now standing, the hand he’d reached out dropping to his side again. “Is that how you think of me?” His lips thin into a tense line when he presses them together. Chan holds that accusatory gaze a moment longer. Then he looks away again, lets his hand fall away from his gun again as well and continues on his path.

“I do not think of you at all if I can help it,” he offers a final comment, slapping a hand onto the door key to open it and leaving both the cargo bay and the companion behind him.

Most of the time, he can’t help it.

-+-

Hyunjin, as Lino so carelessly named his friend, is the complete opposite of put-together when Chan goes to wake him. He’s squinting through tiny slits of eyes, his hair a messy mop on his head and his body still wrapped in the blanket he took with him when he got up from the bed to open the door for him. When it registers that Chan’s standing there, he wakes up only barely more, glancing back into the room and then casually throwing out an unbothered: “Lino’s not here right now.”

“I’m not here for Lino,” Chan huffs. “I’m here for you. Come with me.”

He doesn’t wait for the man to find his clothes or composure, simply turns and walks away. After a moment, the sound of the companions’ door closing signals that either Hyunjin is following him or he went back to sleep.

When he makes it to the flight deck doors and stops to open them, the gentle bump into his back tells him Hyunjin chose to follow. There’s a muttered apology, but nothing else. Not until he opens the door, steps inside of the room and then aside to allow Hyunjin the full sight of the black. Then there’s a soft gasp and nothing else.

In front of him, Jeongin turns around in his chair, eyes lighting up when they fall on the doorway. “Jin ge!” He says, delighted, before he seems to realise what that means and his gaze comes to find Chan next. “Captain.” This one’s much more subdued, his expression having sobered again.

“Go get some sleep, In. I’ll take over for a while.”

Jeongin’s eyes flick back to Hyunjin, almost as if he wants to protest, but then he seems to think better of it and turns back to the front, engaging the autopilot. Chan steps further forward while Jeongin gets out of his seat and heads towards the doors. They must have some type of interaction behind his back, because Jeongin’s footsteps only recede down the hallway several counts later.

It’s when he’s fully sure they’re alone that Chan turns to look back at the young companion. Hyunjin’s still in the door opening, looking much more awake now despite the short amount of time that passed. He clearly grabbed a robe to wrap around himself instead of the blanket and ran a hand through his hair because he looks much more presentable already, but as he’s gawking at the sight of the stars he also looks terribly young. Young and full of wonder.

“Come inside,” Chan tells him. It immediately brings Hyunjin’s startled attention back to him. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but then he seems to think better of it and steps onto the flight deck. The doors close automatically behind him, a hiss and thud that startles him again, but Chan ignores the flightiness of his guest. “Take a seat,” he says, nodding towards the copilot chair. “Don’t touch anything.”

He moves to take a seat himself in the chair Jeongin just vacated, checking all the parameters and briefly consulting the flight log to see if they bumped into anything unexpected while he was asleep. When he’s gone over everything, he glances up to his left, to find Hyunjin indeed sitting in the copilot chair, hands pressed against his chest as if to make extra sure he wouldn’t touch anything he’s not allowed to, his gaze fixed solidly ahead of himself. From this angle, Chan can see the stars reflect in his eyes, making them literally sparkle.

He has to actually bite back a smile when he turns to the front again, easily taking the ship off autopilot. The steering unit becomes heavier in his hands because of it, a certain weight to it that he always felt represents the weight of all the lives of the people on his ship being in his hands now. Jeongin has always treated it much the same and with equal reverence, which is probably why Chan likes the young pilot so much.

That and Jeongin’s just really hard to dislike.

Hyunjin, it seems, has taken all of Chan’s words to heart, because he doesn’t speak, move or in any other way disrupts the quiet peacefulness that Chan always finds when he’s piloting the Wanderer. The companion is so quiet, even, that Chan forgets he’s there at all until the next time he manages to tear his own gaze away from the verse in front of them.

Hyunjin’s still one and all wide-eyed wonder when he does. He seems to be aware enough of his surroundings to notice Chan’s gaze, though, because after a moment he turns his head to meet it. He briefly falters when their eyes lock, but then a hesitant yet genuine smile breaks out on his features.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, voice hushed like he can’t bear to disturb the peace that has settled over the flight deck. “So vast and beautiful. We’re so small in comparison. It’s wonderful.”

This time, Chan can’t bite back the smile entirely. He allows his features to gentle, because Hyunjin is clearly respectful, clearly isn’t trying to get under his skin like Lino would.

“It always reminds me that I’m alive,” he agrees with a slow nod, before he looks back out into the black. “Living, breathing, part of something so mesmerising and wonderful.”

The sounds Hyunjin makes is agreement, he thinks. “If I were Jeongin, I’d never want to leave this place.”

That, in fact, makes Chan huff out an actual laugh. “You sit here long enough, even you will get tired of it,” he counters, but there’s amusement laced in his voice now. “Your bladder would disagree with you as well, and the chairs really aren’t all that great for sleeping in.”

When he glances over, Hyunjin’s expression is open and bright, filled with warm amusement of his own and a laugh etched into his features. Objectively, Chan can see why he became a companion. The young man is beautiful: clean skin, white teeth, elegant features. Yet in this very moment, he just looks young and heartbreakingly endearing.

“You want to feel the ship?” Chan asks him suddenly, going against all of his usual habits. “Take hold of the steering unit.” He nods towards the one in front of Hyunjin’s chair and watches the young man’s startled yet eager reach for it. When the weight hits his hands, Hyunjin’s wide-eyed wonder increases tenfold.

-+-

“You’ve bewitched my companion.”

These are the first words Lino says to him since their meeting in the cargo bay. He says them while approaching Chan from behind as he is pouring himself a glass of water.

“He’s not been able to shut up about the stars for the last twenty-four hours.”

Chan fills up his glass and turns away from the dispenser to face the companion, straightening his back. Lino’s expression isn’t bad. There’s no anger to him this time, only a half-hidden sort of amusement.

“He also seems to think that piloting a ship is his dream. Says it’s wonderful to hold a steering unit, feel the weight of the ship and all its passengers in your hands. I wonder how he came to such conclusions, captain Bang?”

“He and Jeongin do talk a lot,” Chan replies with an offhanded shrug, before lifting the glass to his lips to take a sip. The half-hidden amusement becomes fully visible at his words, Lino’s lips folding into a smile. Something kicks in Chan’s chest, hard and breathtaking, making him press his lips together tightly to keep from desperately gasping for air.

“Thank you,” Lino says, only worsening Chan’s current condition because of the sincerity in his voice, the warmth that curls around the low-spoken syllables. He finds the remnants of air in his lungs and desperately claws at them to be able to speak.

“I did nothing that requires your gratitude,” he manages, in between the jagged edges of everything else that’s desperate to claw its way out of his throat. All those words left unspoken that have no place in the current time. “So, who is it you’re marrying?”

Between one blink and the next, Chan realises it was the wrong thing to say. Minho’s shoulders drop, the amusement washes from his features and suddenly it’s not a captain and a passenger standing in the mess hall joking about their mutual acquaintance, but a man whose skin is battered and bruised from the love being thrown against him over and over and the man unable to find his love returned. In that very moment, Chan’s not even sure which one of them is the one suffering more.

Minho’s mouth opens to reply, but any sound is delayed. Chan suddenly knows that more than anything, he doesn’t want to know the answer. “Is he good to you, at least?” He asks instead. It turns the raw openness of Minho’s expression into a dubiously amused little smile.

“I guess we’ll find out when we get there,” he says, a sense of resignation to his entire stance.

Anger sparks in Chan’s chest, all of those little broken bits and pieces easily catching fire and turning into a blaze. “Why in the stars are you marrying him if you don’t even know the ruttin’ guy?” He demands, putting down the glass in his hand lest he breaks it by holding it too tightly. It thuds heavily onto the counter next to the dispenser, some water spilling over the edge. Chan pays it no mind, eyes never leaving Minho’s face, demanding an answer.

The answer he gets, however, is not in any way what he expected. Not returned anger, not a shouting match like they used to have all the time, but not the easy levelheaded ridicule Lino usually displays either. Instead Minho’s smile is tight, hard, his gaze losing all warmth it held before.

“I thought it’s none of your business,” he throws Chan’s words back at him. They cleave him open right through the middle of his chest, lodging in his breast bone and bringing further oxygen to the fiery tempest blazing through him.

“It is my business if you’re throwing your gorram life away for some guy you never even met,” he counters angrily. “What does he have on you that you’re doing this?” He’s stepped forward, he realises belatedly, a hand reached out to Minho in an aborted motion, hanging in the air between them. He curls his fingers into a fist and drops his hand again. Minho’s smile is unchanged.

“Nothing,” he replies. “He’s got nothing on me. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”

“What in the stars is right about it?” Chan demands to know, his own brow furrowed. “Giving up your freedom for some– Nobody.”

“Should I give it up for you instead, then, captain?” Minho counters, his voice gone cold now, but Chan is unhindered by it.

“You shouldn’t give it up for anybody! What in the verse were you thinking!?”

The silence that follows his outburst is heavy and distinct because of the loudness of his voice. Their eyes remain locked but with every passing moment, Chan becomes more uncomfortable, all too aware of the intensity in Minho’s gaze. All too aware of how he just revealed way more of himself than he ever did plan to.

Eventually Minho speaks just before Chan thinks he would’ve looked away. Only his words make Chan wish he’d looked away sooner. “Hyunjin owed Trax,” Minho says slowly, that same resignation from before back in his voice. “I paid.”

“With marriage?” This time the emotion fueling Chan’s voice isn’t anger but disbelief instead. “How much did Hyunjin owe? We can find a way to pay it back.”

His words are met with silence. The look on Minho’s face is truly unreadable this time. Chan’s outrage is met with a quiet neutrality that forces him to take a few slower breaths and calm down. It’s like Minho knows when most of the blaze has quieted down, because that’s when he speaks again.

“Hyunjin owes a life, Chan ge, and if I don’t go through with this wedding, we’ll owe more than that. It’s not something that I can pay my way out of.”

There’s a hand reached out then, landing softly on his arm, fingers squeezing him lightly. It’s the first time in a long time that the touch doesn’t burn, that it doesn’t make Chan want to evade it and walk away. It’s the first time it truly feels like it might be the last time, too.

“Chan ge,” Minho speaks again after a moment, and Chan realises how dangerously close he suddenly is. He breathes in the companion’s perfume and it stings his throat, makes his eyes water, makes him remember all the times he’d been this close in the past. Willingly. Wanting. Now it feels like a goodbye. And if Minho is saying goodbye, if Minho is marrying some guy to save not just his own but his friend’s life as well, maybe Chan owes him this much. A moment of acceptance. A moment of affection.

When Minho’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, Chan lifts his own arm. He still hesitates just before reaching and resting his hand on the back of Minho’s head. His fingers tangle with the soft strands of hair, his lungs filling with the scent of his shampoo and all at once this is simultaneously the only place he ever wants to be and the one he wants to escape from the most.

Minho’s deep sigh and the relaxing of his entire body into Chan’s frame are what keep him from pulling away.

“Will you tell me the truth?” Minho asks after a moment, voice soft and vulnerable, none of the pretenses of the companion left. Just the man pressed against Chan’s body right now, baring his soul, willingly giving himself over to Chan. He was never cruel. He would never stomp on something so carefully given. His hand twitches in Minho’s hair. “Why did you send me away?”

“You’re a companion, Minho. It is your job to keep the company of all kinds of people. Good men, lesser men, bad men, monsters. That’s what you do, it’s what you chose. I respect that.” His fingers flex as he fights the urge to pull him closer, to rest their heads together and curl himself wholly around the man in his arms. Protectively. Possessively. “But I could never accept it. Not if we…”

He doesn’t finish that sentence, because he doesn’t even really know what they could have done, would have been. He just knows that even before they were anything, it made fire crawl up his spine and mess with his head. It made him want to tear down men so powerful they could call for the end his life on a whim.

“I’m a captain,” he says after a long silence. “I have a duty to my crew.” Especially this one. This crew of stragglers he picked up along the way. Felix has been with him since the war, the only one on his crew who knew Minho beforehand, but also the only one who thus knew to keep his mouth shut. Most of the others are new, like the cells of his body remade since last they met. He can’t risk staining them with the dirt of his worst mistakes.

Minho remains silent, giving no reply, but his weight is a steady warmth against Chan’s chest, his breath a soft sound by his ear and the thud of his heartbeat almost tangible under Chan’s fingers. He’s so warm there’s goosebumps crawling down Chan’s back and arms, all the places where they don’t touch. There’s goosebumps in his very soul, perhaps, too. He was never made for giving his heart away, because his heart is already locked in his ship, with its solid metal walls keeping out everything else he’s trying to escape from.

Everything but Minho. He could never really protect himself against Minho.

When Minho shifts, Chan immediately removes his hand from his head, body inching to step away. Their gazes don’t meet straight away because he’s too busy trying to look everywhere else, trying not to see however Minho feels about all this lest it crumble his resolve. But it seems Minho is not intent on ruining him in the process of leaving, because his expression is serene, a soft smile gentling his lips.

“Thank you,” he says, hand finding Chan’s, fingers briefly running along his own before they squeeze lightly and let go again entirely. “I should go to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

Big day indeed. His own wedding.

Chan can only nod, taking a step back to put more distance between them and allowing Minho to turn and walk away from him.

Again.

-+-

It’s almost an hour later by the time he finds it in himself to move from where he’d collapsed backwards against the counter next to the water dispenser. His glass still sits where he put it down in his anger, the last remnants of Minho’s scent long dissipated by the filtered air. He pushes up from where he was leaning into a straightened position and turns towards the door.

There, in its opening, Changbin leans. Chan doesn’t startle, because he will never show himself taken off guard, but his heartbeat spikes and his hand is once again on the grip of his gun before he full well knows it. There’s no indignation on his second’s features and, once Chan’s hand drops, Changbin simply smiles.

“You good?”

There’s a whole war between the person Changbin used to know and the person Chan is now, but the best friend he had in his youth had slipped into his current life like he’d always belonged.

Changbin fit seamlessly between Chan’s unshakeable duty to his ship and his crew, Felix’s incapacity not to immediately care too much about everyone he meets and the quiet, hidden ghost of Jisung in the engine room. He’d given each of them something they needed to survive past the war they’d all experienced in some capacity, something to cling onto. In the aftermath of Changbin’s steady presence, Chan’s crew had been glued together better than ever before.

Not long after, Changbin brought Seungmin aboard and, when it was clear they needed an actual pilot, he’d brought Jeongin.

But Changbin. Changbin is the glue. Changbin is who keeps Chan from shooting Jisung out into the black when he demands better tools and new engine parts a little too often, speaking like the Wanderer is his. Changbin is who makes Chan go to bed when he’s past exhausted yet determined to still make everyone’s life harder. Changbin takes none of Chan’s bullshit and always does what’s best for the crew.

Changbin is the reason Chan’s heart is so well-protected inside the walls of this ship.

Which is why he doesn’t get angry, he doesn’t scoff, he doesn’t put on a mask of indifference. He simply meets his best friend’s eyes and offers him the cracked edges of his smile.

“Far from,” he admits quietly. “Do you need me to take over?”

Changbin shakes his head, amusement filtering into his expression. “Jeongin’s in there, telling Genie everything there is to know about piloting a spaceship. He’s wide awake.”

Chan can picture it perfectly. Hyunjin’s love for the stars, the unbridled joy on his face when Chan had let him hold the steering unit. Jeongin’s passion for flying, his knack for finding the best routes through whichever part of the verse they’re headed into. The perfect mix, no doubt.

“Chan,” Changbin says into the silence that fell between them, and Chan’s eyes refocus on his friend. “What’s going on?”

Chan opens his mouth to reply, but his words fall far short of anything that could properly describe exactly how he is suffering. There’s no way to put into words the way seeing Minho again felt both like recovering a piece of his soul and like being shattered apart into a million pieces. There are no words for knowing happiness is a smile and a touch, yet they burn like acid on his skin every single time.

There’s no explaining how Chan yearns for and yet dreads every second of Minho’s attention, all because it gives him a glimpse of what could have been, if only they were entirely different people. If only Chan’s possessiveness was less ugly. If only Minho’s goal in life was different.

“Lino and I first met right before the war,” he eventually says, because he can’t explain the feelings, but he can explain some history. Changbin’s expression goes neutral, a sign of his surprise. Lino’s a good actor, after all, didn’t give away a single hint of them knowing each other beforehand. “We met on and off during the war because of missions or by happenstance. We ended up spending quite some time together. Until we had a fight. I told him to get off my ship and never set foot on it again. He listened.”

Chan blinks, his gaze having dropped as he recalls these glimpses of memories. Lino in some of his most beautiful robes, shared laughter in a tough moment, Chan before the war broke him, Minho before Chan broke them. “We were too different,” he says, “our lives are incompatible.”

There’s a moment of silence, Changbin clearly giving him the chance to say more, but he’s got nothing left. “And now he’s getting married,” his best friend eventually concludes.

Chan huffs out a little laugh, resigned and bitter, cold and heated all at the same time.

“And now he’s getting married.”

-+-

He manages to get away from Changbin by letting himself be led to his room to sleep and closing the door. It shows how optimistic Changbin is that he still believes this might make Chan actually sleep. A casual knock on said door half an hour later reveals that Felix is much better versed in his ways than his second-in-command.

“Yo,” Felix says when he steps inside. He slaps his hand on the door panel once he’s in and neatly closes the door behind him again. His eyes crinkle with the force of his smile and some of the tight lines in Chan’s shoulders automatically ease a little at the familiarity of the doctor’s always so bright demeanour.

“Figured you’d be awake,” Felix drawls, his speech always a lot less refined whenever it’s just the two of them. He slips with others sometimes too, when he’s too comfortable or too tired, but it’s been ages since Chan heard him speak any other way when addressing him. “Did you pilot?”

He gives a shake of his head, watching the way Felix sits down on his bed without hesitation. “Bin did. Jeongin’s there now with our star-loving passenger.”

Felix huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head lightly, though fondness bleeds through the lines of him. Hyunjin is easy to like, Chan thinks, a tried and lived sort of toughness about him, yet full of innocent curiosity and wide-eyed enthusiasm. The poster child of what all of them might have been before the war.

Chan can’t even remember what kind of person he was before the war. Softer, more trusting, still with the doors to his heart wide open. He’s lost too much since then not to keep those doors closed. People. Dreams. Hope.

“Speaking of Hyunjin,” Felix interrupts his train of thought, making him blink and refocus. “I wanted to talk to you about him, actually.”

Chan frowns, wonders what Felix could possibly have to say about Hyunjin to him of all people. Luckily the doc doesn’t leave him too much guessing time.

“He was asking if we need another pilot. I was thinking it’d give you more time for planning.” And sleeping, he doesn’t say, because they both know it’s not about having the time for Chan, it’s just about sleep simply not visiting him. But Felix is a firm believer that if Chan would have more time to relax, he’d eventually sleep more too. “Minho already said he’d be happy to pay for another year’s travel for him, so he could learn whatever we need him to learn. He said Hyunjin picks up on things easily, maybe I could teach him some basic patient care, he could also learn something from Sung about repairs.”

Felix never minces his words, never dances around a subject or hides what he means. So Minho’s sudden name drop pushes Chan right back to the mess hall a couple of hours before, to when he had a hand in the companion’s hair and felt his warmth so close. The rest of the words aren’t completely lost on him, but they’re definitely a little hazy, not fully sinking in. Until they do and he blinks again.

“You want me to hire Hyunjin?”

“Only in a year’s time. If he proves useful and we can afford it. Until then he’d be a steady source of income as a passenger and we can teach him to help out when necessary.”

Felix’s gaze locks with Chan’s when he finally focuses fully again and there’s a soft smile on the doctor’s face. It’s not amused, but more something like understanding. When it becomes clear Chan isn’t about to break his silence, Felix’s smile widens.

“Gege really wants him to learn different skills and end up somewhere good,” the doc continues, unencumbered by Chan’s silence or the no doubt stoic lines of his face. “And I know you like him or he wouldn’t even have been able to come near the flight deck. So…”

This time Felix’s smile is a little too knowing and Chan wrinkles his nose at the doctor’s audacity. At the same time there’s nothing much he can do about it. If it weren’t for Felix, he wouldn’t be alive anymore several times over. That kind of skill earns someone Chan’s respect, and the years of working together have earned Felix his trust. So it is what it is, and Chan will eject himself out into the cold vacuum of space before he’ll lash out at the doctor.

“So how much is the companion paying us to take care of his charity case?” He asks instead, aiming his barbs at the other people not even involved in this conversation. Felix pushes up from his bed like an excited puppy, coming over and wrapping himself around Chan’s arm.

“More than we usually earn on all the different jobs we take on in one year. Apparently he’s got a lot of money and no reason to save it because his future husband has plenty of money as well and he intends for every last penny of it to be spent on him.”

Felix’s laugh is amused, delighted by the ways in which Lino unapologetically claims whatever he can get. He’s always been this way, taking hold of a reached out hand and pulling the whole arm. Walking into Chan’s life and leaving with his whole heart. Accidentally finding himself back in Chan’s life and deciding to make him the one to fly him to his own gorram wedding.

“Lix.”

Chan’s not sure himself what he wants to say. Maybe it’s something he wants to ask. Maybe he’s just hoping for a miraculous solution to all of these problems. Maybe it’s as much of a cry for help he’ll ever give. The doctor’s gaze flicks up to meet his, and all amusement evaporates from his expression instantly.

Chan’s chest grows tight with all the things he never did quite manage to say, that he can never speak anymore now.

“If you think Hyunjin can be useful,” he says instead of anything substantial. “I’ll trust your word on it. You can discuss the details with Bin, he’ll know where we can apply him best.”

He’ll know how to deal with this thing without finding himself constantly distracted by the thought that they’re flying Minho to where he will tie himself irrevocably to some rich asshole. Chan still doesn’t know how Minho ended up passed out in his butterfly between Athenia and Apollito, and now he will never know. Minho will untie his robes in less than a day’s time and put them to rest for someone he’s never met before, and Chan…

Chan is going to deliver him there and then fly away, because he has a crew to protect. People to care for. A ship to keep afloat.

“Chan ge.” Felix’s voice is soft. His fingers squeezing Chan’s arm are gentle too. It’s worse than any disregard would have been. He’d rather go through five more battles, near-fatal gunshot wounds included, than be reminded of the vulnerability of his own emotions.

“I’m sorry,” Felix adds with another soft squeeze. Chan shakes him off as gently as he can, depositing him back in the hallway outside his quarters, and tells him to get some more shuteye before they get to where they’re going.

-+-

Minho walks down the Wanderer’s ramp exactly six hours before he’s due at his wedding. He’s wrapped in silken robes and followed by both Seungmin and Changbin carrying the heavy metal travel chests he came aboard with.

Chan watches him go from the far corner of the cargo bay, not even waiting for both his feet to step onto Izanayen soil before he turns away and locks himself in his quarters.

He does not attend the wedding ceremony.

Thirteen hours later, the Wanderer leaves Izanaye one passenger lighter, on to its next job.