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One thing the crew of the Aurora knows to not bring up about Jonny is that he is one clingy motherfucker. Nastya was the first to warn Tim about this; apparently when she first joined and was still shy around Aurora, Jonny would stubbornly stick right by her side. He always claimed it was just because she was “cold as shit”— which, sure, that’s true— and a good captain wouldn’t let a valued member succumb to hypothermia, which, coming from Jonny D’Ville, is complete bullshit. He’d lock a crewmate in the freezer for a bottle of whiskey. Hell, he’d do that for fun.
All to say, Jonny is a liar and a clingy bastard. No one brings it up, to him at least, because, as Ashes will tell you, he’s also a petty bitch, and he will refuse to engage with you for years.
All of which is important because Tim, just waking up, eyes barely focusing, feels Jonny’s claws wrapped around him, and his breath on Tim’s shoulder, and his tail draped over his leg.
Tim kisses any plans he had goodbye and begins mentally preparing for any consequences for missing his chores. What did he even have to do today? It definitely isn’t getting done now, that’s for sure.
Fuck. He has to feed the octokittens today. That’s not something they can afford to skip. Not again. Never again.
He jams his elbow into Jonny’s stomach, prompting a grumble.
“Get up, asshole, I’ve got shit to do.”
Jonny grumbles louder, and has the audacity to cling even tighter.
Tim groans back, “I’m getting up, whether you want to or not.” And he pushes himself upright. His blankets fall away from him but Jonny does not. The asshole even swings his leg around Tim’s hip, effectively clamping onto his back.
“You fucking ass, I know you’re awake. This can’t even be comfortable.” Tim grumbles as he stands, ignoring how, fuck, it’s stupidly endearing the way he’s koalaed on his back.
Jonny sticks his tongue out at Tim, eyes still peacefully closed. Like a child.
“Can’t even let me put a shirt on, can ya?”
Jonny shakes his head and squeezes tighter. Tim sighs heavily. He moves an arm to help support Jonny and leaves his room.
He can feel Aurora watching him and he’s pretty sure she’s already gossiping to Nastya. Can’t hide anything on this ship without Nastya knowing, that’s what he gets living on a starship where a crewmate is dating the vessel, he supposes.
“Mornin’ ‘Rora, Nas’.” He says into the wall, the wall which opens a panel to a screen.
“Good morning, Gunner, First Mate. Long night?”
Tim rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You both are lucky I’m bothering with feeding the octokittens.”
“We’re aware.”
“Better keep track of your spiders.” Tim glares at the ceiling where he’s sure a camera is watching from somewhere. Jonny digs his fingers into Tim’s tit in order to lift one hand to flip Aurora off.
Tim snirks and Aurora displays a “>:o !”
And then he really starts to feel Jonny’s claws and he picks up his pace, cursing under his breath until Jonny returns to holding on with two arms, and not holding Tim’s chest like the handful of fat and muscle can hold up a grown ass man.
He turns the corner into the octokitten’s hall and even then, Jonny refuses to let up.
“God, you’ve got a problem, D’Ville.” Tim shakes his head as he grabs a can of… meat for the octokittens, who are already beginning to swarm. Jonny had previously confirmed it was, in fact, real meat, but he couldn’t place what kind.
“You plannin’ to stay there all day?”
“Mmmhmmmm.” Jonny hums happily.
“Clingy bugger.”
“Y’love me though,” Jonny says, utterly pleased with himself.
“I oughtta get better taste.” Tim gets a rattle to the ankle for that. “Case and point.”
He tosses the food to the roiling horde of octokittens, and does not stay long enough to hear the rending of flesh and… whatever octokittens are made of.
Jonny yawns and rubs his face against Tim’s shoulder. “Back t’ bed?”
Tim can’t help the fond sigh that escapes him. “Yeah. Back to bed.”
The trek back to his room is less eventful, Tim doesn’t even bother to flip off Aurora and Nastya’s camera as he passes. When he lays back down on his bed, Jonny finally loosens his grip, and Tim rolls around to face him. Jonny’s eyes are closed blissfully, and a calmness softens his features that isn’t typically present in the first mate. He wiggles a bit closer to Tim and burrows his head in his neck.
Tim huffs, a slight laugh, “Comfortable?”
Jonny nods, “‘N I’m tryin’a sleep. Shaddup.”
Tim snickers and presses a soft kiss to Jonny’s scalp, “Fine, fine. Sweet dreams, mate.”
As Jonny’s breathing slows, Tim knows he’s not lasting much longer. He tugs his blankets back over them as he fights with the shutters in his eyes. When he can fight off the drowsiness no longer, he allows his eyes to close, and before he drifts off, he concedes; he doesn’t mind the clingy side of Jonny D’Ville.