ACTION TIME

[aphelionix]

The two days had come and gone since Locke stayed over at Weiler's. He was tipsy when Weiler had called that night and made their two day check-in rule - not that he forgot, but he couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something was off when he went to bed that night.

On the morning of the third day, he remembered.

The rule was to get out. He tried calling Weiler once, in case he had forgotten his own rule, but Locke was sure by now that it wasn't like him. It was all the sign he needed when the call went straight to voice mail. He headed right out the door of his room, only gathering his pistol and communicator. Through the bustling of the soldiers' morning routines, he managed to keep himself fairly blended in. No one seemed to be looking on him any differently. Locke was on the last stretch of the emergency escape route of Gladsheim's base - for Circle members, that was - when someone called his name.

His real name.

Comments

[tactician]

"I've had enough, danke," said Weiler, though he did pick up the mug from the ground and hand it over for Locke to bring back into the kitchen and dump in the self-cleaning dish rack. Even with a low-frills model like the Grawthing, there were some luxuries that were standard by virtue of it being a long-haul craft, which made it perfect for a pair of fugitive bachelors who probably couldn't manage a constant bout of housekeeping between the two of them.

By the time Locke returned, Weiler was still sitting where he had left him, one arm propped on an armrest and his chin resting in its cupped palm. The man, blank-faced and hard to read, seemed to be staring out into the infinite blackness of space, surprisingly quiet and without a customary quip as the pilot returned.

[aphelionix]

By the time Locke reached the kitchen, it may have hit him that he shouldn't have left Weiler and the AI alone. He dreaded what he might come back to after dropping off the dishes, only when the door opened, it was absolutely silent. Locke raised an eyebrow down at Weiler. He looked... well, he couldn't quite find a word for it.

"Don't tell me you two got in a row already," he said.

[tactician]

Slowly, Weiler blinked, focusing as he did so, like a machine coming back to life. The first thing he did was put on an easy smile. "Hm? Oh, no, McGraw's been good - he's keeping quiet like he said he would. I was just thinking, Kapitän."

[aphelionix]

Locke eased back into his seat, looking over.

"About?"

[tactician]

With his head still propped in his hand, Weiler turned it to look at Locke. "Just catching up with everything that's happened these past few days." Laughing a little, Weiler closed his eyes, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the other armrest. "I admit, I've been a bit caught up, lately."

Just a little bit of an understatement, there.

[aphelionix]

He could easily understand. Weiler had been in someone else's shadow for a long time - a pretty cozy shadow at that - and now, it was over. There wasn't even the Circle to turn to. So much had happened in such a short span of time that neither of them really had the time to compute it until now. It was easier for Locke, though - he was used to action and 'living on the wild side', as Weiler put it.

And he really, really wanted off Gladsheim.

Locke leaned forward with an elbow on his thigh. He almost reached over to slip his hand under Weiler's, but he remembered the recoil he got last time. Instead, he opted for an encouraging pat on the knee.

"Good to think on it while it's calm," he said. "Things are still unpredictable right now."

[tactician]

Weiler blinked open one eye, smile impish. "Can't do much thinking past acknowledging it happened." He glanced pointedly at the hand on his knee. "Are you worried?"

[aphelionix]

Locke withdrew his hand, but he stayed hunched forward.

"More, at first," he admitted. "But you're tougher than you look."

[tactician]

Weiler turned his chair to face Locke, his hands creeping up on Locke's withdrawn ones instead, pinning them to Locke's knees before they could escape much further.

"I am," he agreed, because let it never be said that Weiler wasn't humble, of course. He pushed off his chair until he was sitting only on the very edge of it, just short of climbing into the pilot's lap, putting their faces mere inches apart. "But thanks, Captain Softie."

[aphelionix]

Locke turned his hands upward, fingers tracing Weiler's wrists.

"That's Captain Locke to you," he said, and he scooted to the edge of his own seat, tilting his head and closing the small distance between them. It wasn't a brief contact like the other times; Locke had found them too short to draw a conclusion out of, and when he finally found himself easing into it, Weiler always pulled away. He was almost sure he was being teased all those times.

[tactician]

Smiling against Locke's mouth, Weiler took that as permission to nudge forward and half-climb into the pilot seat, one knee braced to either side of the seat, between the other man's leg and corresponding armrest. This was, technically speaking, the first time they could do this without pretense or necessary interruption, and it was almost comfortable, in a way, as something different enough though familiar, something that could be eased into instead of suddenly sprung on them.

Without the need to make it a show, Weiler naturally defaulted to something lazy and easy, like he was taking his time to enjoy the luxury, mindless of what the 'client' wanted. When he pulled back, his eyes and grin were relaxed with it, voice a little rough. "Captain."

"SHOULD I ALSO CHANGE MY DEFAULT ADDRESS TO THE FULL TITLE 'CAPTAIN LOCKE'?"

[aphelionix]

Locke's arms wound carefully around Weiler's back, mindful of his injury. The change of pace was nice, the captain easily falling into the laziness of it. It was different, not having to worry about anyone else not seeing them, and quite relieving, in fact. His hands traced down Weiler's sides, stopping at his hips. Just when he was thinking he really liked the sound of Weiler saying 'Captain' like that, a much less pleasant sound filled his ears.

If only McGraw could see the twitch of his eye. So much for minimal interjections.

Locke let out an exasperated exhale. "Yes, that's fine, McGraw."

[tactician]

"Take a break for the next half an hour, Herr McGraw," Weiler announced, tilting his head up to address the AI. "For a job well done."

"AS YOU WISH, BUT FOR FUTURE REFERENCE, ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE DOES NOT REQUIRE DOWNTIME," said McGraw informatively, followed by blessed silence.

Weiler looked back down, smirking. "My mistake," he shrugged to Locke.

[aphelionix]

Locke shook his head, but he seemed at least a little amused, one corner of his mouth quirked. "I do hope that wasn't planned."

[tactician]

Weiler slid his elbows past the back of the chair, locking his fingers behind it. "Do you think I'd plan something like that?" he challenged.

[aphelionix]

Idle hands smoothed back up Weiler's sides, an easy smile on his face.

"I doubt it."

[tactician]

Weiler grinned back. "Well, we have half an hour, Captain. What do you think we should do with that time?"

[aphelionix]

Locke leaned up, brushing his mouth between Weiler's neck and jaw, just below the ear. "I was rather enjoying what we were up to before."

[tactician]

Humming quietly, Weiler hardly needed to asked twice. He picked up right where he left off, tilting Locke's face up by running his thumbs up and back from the man's temples. This was as good a method as any to break in a ship, he gathered, and they might as well take advantage of the half hour of privacy they had been granted. (What a good way to wake up.)

Weiler was clearly used to people who weren't afraid of pushing back - he crowded Locke back against the seat, pressed up against his chest and nudged ever closer despite the slow pace of the kiss, perhaps unsurprising giving his personality, but something Locke would have to accustom himself to nonetheless.

[aphelionix]

There was definitely a grin pressed against Weiler's lips, Locke taking well to the pace he had set. He liked that Weiler wasn't shy with what he wanted - likely because he himself tended not to be nearly as expressive. Locke, though more of the leader of the two, easily followed into the other man's lead. He parted his mouth, his tongue dotting against Weiler's lower lip. The taste and smell of black coffee was strong on both their mouths, but he wasn't particularly bothered by it. (Two good ways to wake up indeed.)

[tactician]

Opening his mouth without hesitation, Weiler tilted his face into it with a soft huff, slipping his tongue past the seam of Locke's mouth with no reservation. The open mouthed rendition of the kiss was significantly less laid back, but the half hour limit Weiler had imposed wouldn't allow them much further past that unless one of them picked up the pace. However, Weiler seemed perfectly content to stay as they were, considering they were a little too early along to really consider much else. (Maybe sometime later.)

Much too soon, a voice prompted, "HALF AN HOUR HAS PASSED, CAPTAIN LOCKE."

Weiler didn't bother pulling away.

[aphelionix]

It wasn't until three minutes after the announcement that Locke pulled back, pleasantly dazed. "Did you hear something?"

[tactician]

"A-HEM," McGraw interrupted awkwardly.

"No," Weiler answered, licking his lips and leaning back with his hands on Locke's knees to prop himself up.

"I WOULD NOT INTERRUPT, BUT YOU EXPLICITLY TOLD ME TO RETURN AFTER HALF AN HOUR, SIR," McGraw protested, sounding a little harried and exasperated itself. If it were a real person, it would have been torn between wringing its hands or burying its face in its palms at this point. "HONESTLY, SIR."

With a sigh, Weiler pulled himself to his feet and straightened the wrinkles out of his shirt in one smooth motion, as if being interrupted in this way was a common occurrence. He plopped back down in his own seat and waved a hand at the dashboard. "All right, all right, Herr McGraw, don't worry about it. How many hours left until we hit Erclesse?"

[aphelionix]

It was ironic, treating interruptions as one usually did now - pulling away and addressing the interruption - rather than taking it as a cue to be all over each other. Locke smiled to himself at the thought. He liked it better this way.

"ONE HOUR AND FORTY-FIVE MINUTES," McGraw answered proudly, no doubt programmed to be pleased when it wasn't ignored. A screen popped up across the window, showing their progress on a map. A line connected Boriniat to Erclesse, a blinking green dot showing their current location between the two.

"Making good progress," Locke said with a nod, also standing. "I'm going to eat before landing. Do you want anything, Heine?"

[tactician]

"You can cook?"