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Jim sat at a corner table in the Benbow Inn lobby, pressed up against the window, feeling the chill from outside seep through the glass, under his shirt and through his very bones as he considered what was layed out in front of him.
On the table, a seemingly innocuous collection of objects- a ceramic mug filled with coffee, a small plate with a half-eaten raspberry jam shortbread cookie, and a gold hoop earring. But for Jim, they represented what was metaphorically laid bare for him to consider. Something was gnawing at him from the inside of his ribcage, something nastier and more voracious than an angry Bonzabeast in heat- something- something hot and vicious- something that burned him up from his feet to his forehead.
Jim considered the plain fact that he was still in love with Silver. The fire burned hot.
Pushing the earring back into place into his left ear, he drained the coffee mug (Neapolitan ice cream flavored coffee- one of B.E.N.’s better, ahem, creations) and chewed the remains of the cookie, savoring the sweet flavor. He recalled the cookies Silver made for them, just the two of them, during a particularly snowy stretch of the Legacy voyage. Silver had draped an arm around him, holding him close (cherishing him) as they sat together in the galley, devouring the warm shortbread and sipping a homemade drink that was sort of half melted chocolate, half coffee. Silver had been telling him a story about one of his many misadventures, but Jim wasn’t listening.
Silver’s organic arm on him, claws grazing the bare skin on Jim’s shoulder-
Silver’s arm around him in the longboat, lazy and relaxed before the supernova-
Silver’s huge body pressing him up against the mast, protecting him, keeping him safe, loving him-
Jim shuddered.
How was he supposed to put into words, even in his own head, how the older man made him feel? What was he supposed to do now? Silver was out there, surely living a full life of adventure and gold, stardust in his hair. Jim was stuck here on the ground. You’re out there and I’m in here. I would give up ten thousand treasure troves just to be with you right now.
For the longest time Jim had dreamed of Silver coming back to get him. Surely once he was done with the Academy (Jim had graduated this past summer), Silver would know where he was and come find him. More than anything, he wanted the older man to know who he was, to know him, to want to come see him. This was a new feeling for Jim- he had spent the majority of his life hiding from the attention of others and slinking into the shadows. He had friends at the Academy, sure, but he didn’t feel like they were really in his head like he wanted Silver to be. He wanted Silver to know about B.E.N.’s neapolitan coffee that he had been drinking every morning for the past two weeks. He wanted Silver to know about the raspberry shortbread cookies his mother made, about how Morph had picked up a new annoying habit of turning into Jim’s toothbrush and transforming back right as Jim put him in his mouth- about the flowers his mother had planted in the garden, roses and daffodils and hyacinth- about the leak in the roof and how Jim was going to fix it but for now he just put a bucket underneath it, about his friends at school and his favorite foods- he wanted him to know everything.
He wanted desperately for Silver to know him, and he wanted even more to know Silver. All his intricacies, the little gears and gyros that made him whirl and tick. What was his routine, what were the things he thought about as he was trying to fall asleep? Did he dream, or did he lie awake in his bed like Jim did, listening to the rain on the roof, and wondering what the other was doing right now? Did he think about Jim’s slight frame pressed against him like Jim thought about being pressed against Silver’s body, breathing in the scent of oil and cooking and pipe smoke?
Jim thought often about sharing a bed with Silver, the cyborg’s arms around him, his chest pressed to Jim’s back, holding him as the ship -their ship- lazily cut through the night. Silver’s cold metal hand would press right above his hip, rubbing circles into his skin and making Jim’s hair stand on end with want. Jim would roll over in his arms, and Silver would pretend to be asleep, and Jim would lean up, and- and-
Suddenly angry, Jim stood up from his seat at the table. A hot flush covered his face and shoulders as he shrugged a jacket on. He shook his head in an attempt to free himself from his own burning thoughts. It was hopeless. He was hopeless.
He knew his mother would wonder where he had gone, but Jim didn’t plan on being gone for long. He didn’t want to face her right now anyway. He thought that if he talked to her, told her what he was doing, she would be able to read between the lines and see the foolish romantic fantasies written all across his face. A ridiculous thought, he knew that. His mom wasn’t a mind reader (although it certainly seemed that way sometimes).
Jim shivered at the cool autumn air as he walked out the front door and down the cobblestone path towards town. Although he didn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone right now (anyone but him, I would kill to talk to him, I would give up everything to see his face) he figured a brisk walk past the shop windows and cafes would take his mind off things. He remembered a painting hanging up in one of the shop windows that he wanted to see again. It was of a girl, with her back facing the viewer and a night scene of a bustling town around her. Jim had tried his hand at art in the past and had always found it frustrating, the scene unfolding on the canvas in a twisted way, a melted version of the vision in his mind’s eye. After the Legacy, he tried painting his memories from the journey, like the space-gulls, and the never-ending sea of glittering gold hidden in the planet’s center. And the galley he’d spent so much time in, that had started to feel like home. He found he couldn’t capture the tobacco smoke, or the heated, fiery feeling, in any medium he’d ever tried.
Come back. Please come back to me.
Jim’s boots made a pleasant tapping sound against the cold pavement. He noticed the rich oranges of the trees and the deep green evergreens, and the sting of the sweet-smelling wind against his cheek. He held a hand up to his face, relishing the cool burn. The heat of his palm took some of the edge off. Jim was suddenly extremely glad that he had come to town. The autumn season always seemed to cheer him up, the blue days reminding him of happy Halloweens in the Benbow. Last year, B.E.N. had gone ham and strung up glowing orange and purple lights everywhere, chattering about how holidays and seasons were so important because without them, how would we mark the days going by? Jim had realized that the planet B.E.N. was stranded on did not have seasons, and of course no holidays, and reconsidered the simple joy of the passage of time. Change was welcome in the Benbow. Any day now his mother would send him to the market with a wheelbarrow with instructions to fetch two dozen pumpkins, and they would put newspaper all over the floor of the living room and carve devilish grinning faces in the pumpkins, and scoop the guts out and save the seeds to make puffed-up roasted pumpkin seeds. The Dopplers would visit, and Amelia would let her hair down a little to tell spooky stories about her definitely haunted childhood home, and B.E.N. would put on a tough front, but scream and jump out of his metaphorical skin at every little floorboard creak after that. Doppler claimed he didn’t believe in the supernatural, but Jim noticed he always looked a bit green around the gills after Amelia had spun one of these tales. Morph would help with the storytelling, turning into his best impressions of monsters and ghosts based on her descriptions. Jim would share anecdotes about the wild Halloween parties at the academy (the time he went with two of his friends, all three of them decked out in giant bee costumes was Sarah’s favorite) and they’d laugh, and share food, and be a family.
There was always that sensation of someone missing.
Jim knew that realistically, even if he were to find Silver (if Silver would come back for him) there was no chance he’d be able to join their little makeshift family. There was no way that Silver could sit with them on the floor strewn with newspaper, using his mechanical arm to carve a beautifully detailed design into a pumpkin, lighting a candle inside it and setting it on the porch, stepping back to admire the glow of his handiwork.
Jim wondered if Silver could be gentle, or artistic, with his hands. He had seen him chop vegetables to a fine crumble, delicately toss a pinch of spices into a pot of simmering stew, carefully press his thumbprint into jam cookies. He had felt Silver’s warm, calloused palm grip his shoulder, congratulating him on a job well done. He had felt Silver’s hands drape his heavy black coat over Jim’s sleeping form, so carefully, as not to wake him, and felt his organic hand linger just a moment between his shoulder blades. Stroking him gently, affectionately, making sure Jim was alright. Taking care of him like he always did.
It was a stupid question.
But Silver could never fit into Jim’s life where he wanted him to be. Amelia would have him behind bars in a heartbeat, and Jim would actually rather die than have to bear the awkwardness of his mother finally meeting the man who burned down her home and livelihood. She was delighted and grateful for the treasure gifted to her to rebuild, but still. Some things can’t be rebuilt or bought again.
Jim realized that he had been so lost in his thoughts, he’d already walked past the storefront with the large painting. He turned around and walked back up the street against the wind. The breeze teased his hair to one side. Jim enjoyed the feeling of the air sliding around his clear hair, he’d washed it that morning (his long-haired friends at school had been aghast to learn that he usually washed his hair every single day, didn’t he know he would dry it out and get split ends?!). The feeling of air rushing past his ears and through his hair was too good to give up, though.
Jim looked to the left and watched his reflection as he made his way past the shop windows, finally landing in front of the painting of the girl. It was actually hanging in the window of a cafe, not a store, which made sense because the girl in the painting was seated at an outdoor table of a cafe. He admired the rich browns of her curly hair, the deep emerald green of the beret perched on top of her head, and the soft yellow glow of the streetlamps against a deep blue sky, sparkling with stars and galaxies. The glow and shine brought back the memories of Halloween, the candles flickering eerily inside the Jack o’ Lanterns, the purple and orange string lights glittering near the creaking wooden ceilings.
Suddenly the wind ripped through Jim hard. Shivering, he pulled his jacket tighter around him, and felt a sudden sense of emptiness, the glow fizzled out. Glancing nervously towards the cafe door, he decided if he was here, he might as well buy something. It might help fend off the growing chill enveloping him. He swung the door open and stepped inside. A bell on top of the door tinkled. The cashier, a harried-looking young reptilian, was frantically filling orders and calling out the names of customers at the pickup counter. Jim briefly glanced at the menu and decided to order a hot chocolate. He wished he could have gotten Silver’s specialty mocha drink, but no one could make it quite the same as he did. It would just leave him disappointed, and emptier than before.
Jim paid the cashier, making sure to smile and say thank you, and moseyed over to the wall beside the pickup counter, leaning his back against it as he settled in to wait for his order. His eyes darted around the cafe, looking for a place to sit. The place itself was just as colorful as the painting in the window. Jim wondered if the owners were artists, or if one of the employees had painted it. There were a few other people in here with him, scattered about on the eclectic collection of mismatched furniture- a young couple were enjoying donuts on a blue velvet couch, an old man nursed a latte while reading a book in a bright orange armchair. A large, imposing figure sat in a pink chair in the corner, elbows resting on the round metal table, their open newspaper covering their face. Jim could just see the top of their red bandana over the top of the newspaper.
The barista called out Jim’s name. Jim snapped to attention and walked the few steps to the counter, thanking him and grabbing a paper sleeve for his drink. The stranger in the corner rustled his paper.
Wait.
Wait a fucking minute.
For a moment, Jim’s brain went absolutely blank. Everything in front of him seemed to melt at the edges. He felt a thousand red-hot needles were poking him in every single pore in his body.
Nothing existed except for that corner, and that table, and that man, with his newspaper and his discarded coffee cup and his red fucking bandana.
Jim couldn’t control his legs if he tried. He took a step. Then he took another.
Against his will, his body carried him to that darkened corner. He had to make sure. He just had to. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t him, no big deal, Jim would laugh it off and apologize to the stranger. It happens all the time.
He’d be crushed, he wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of disappointment, it would be like getting his heart ripped out, don’t get your hopes up- you’ll just cry yourself to sleep for the umpteenth time-
Jim stopped in front of the table, the short distance he’d walked seeming like miles.
It took a second for the man to notice him standing there.
Before he saw the rest of him, before he even noticed that the man had lowered his newspaper, Jim saw the glow.
The honey yellow-glow of his mechanical eye.
Then the rest of his sweet, rugged face, the face that Jim had dreamed about every single night for the last four years. The face that Jim imagined he’d seen in crowds, the face he scanned the spaceports for, the face that crept into his thoughts in his most private moments.
For a moment, Silver looked just as dumbfounded as Jim. They stared at each other for a few, lead-heavy moments that felt like hours. The air between them was so thick, Jim was sure he could slice it.
Then Silver’s broad face split into a grin.
“Jimbo!”
And with that, all of the tension rushed out of Jim in an instant, leaving him weak-kneed and unsteady. Silver must have sensed this, because in an instant he was beside Jim, supporting him, taking the drink out of his hand so he wouldn’t spill it and slinging the other arm around his shoulders.
Jim became vaguely aware that Silver was talking to him, a dull, soothing murmur over the roaring of his own blood in his ears. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. Silver gently steered him towards the door of the cafe, still holding his drink for him, Jim’s feet once again working without his permission. The newspaper lay forgotten.
The cool outside air jolted him back into his body. He looked up and saw Silver, only Silver, both eyes twinkling down at him. Without a word, Jim began to cry.
Silver’s broad arms enveloped him without missing a beat. Jim breathed in the older man’s scent through his thin cotton shirt, relished the way his dark coat covered both of them. Jim hid his face in Silver’s chest as the spacer’s organic hand wound its way through Jim’s hair. Silver shushed him, and Jim could faintly hear his words as his chest rumbled underneath Jim’s ear. “S’alright, lad. I’m right here.”
Jim looked up at him through blurry eyes. He was so embarrassed and pleased that he couldn’t speak. He wanted to tell Silver everything, everything about where he’d been and what he’d been doing and how he ached for the older man’s touch at night. How every casual touch and hip bump and hair-tousle was permanently branded onto Jim’s skin like a claim.
Instead Jim just cried. Silver’s large hands rubbed his back through his jacket, sinewy biceps wound around his smaller frame. Once again, Jim was reminded of the delicate, creative, and nurturing work those broad paws wove. Half of Silver was like a bloodied scimitar clutched in the midst of a raging battle, and the other half was sweet kisses and raspberry thumbprint cookies. And warm chocolate drinks.
After a moment, Jim reluctantly pulled away from the older man to scrub embarrassedly at his eyes. He noticed Silver raise his hand to thumb at the corner of his organic eye, too, as he chuckled, deep and dark in his chest- God Jim had missed that sound- and gave Jim the space to collect himself.
After a pause, Jim finally choked out, “I kept waiting for you to come back for me.”
Silver cracked a grin. “Thought you’d had enough of being pushed around by this old dog. Wanted to give ye the space to chart your own course. ‘Course, I thought about writing ye at that academy of yours a fair few times.”
Jim felt like he was going to burst into tears all over again. “Why didn’t you? I could never get tired of you- you’re the one thing I’ve been missing, Silver, I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t find you again, I looked for you everywhere, I-” Jim’s jaw trembled mutinously and Silver raised his hands palm-out in front of him, trying to calm Jim without crowding him. Jim closed the space between them again, leaving his head against the other man’s chest. Silver generously obliged him, rubbing in between his taut shoulders with those clever, deft fingers.
After another moment, the older man gently pushed him back, still gripping him tight around the shoulders. “Come on, Jimmy, lad. Let’s take a walk, get some blood pumping and clear yer head, aye? Plenty of time to catch up.” He clapped Jim’s cheek with his organic hand and winked.
Jim grinned back. He turned to follow Silver down the street, falling in stride with him easily as if they did this every day. Being with Silver, it was the easiest thing in the world, easier than falling, more natural than breathing.
The world spun by around them, but Jim only had eyes for the man beside him, swept up in the current of his mismatched limbs and eyes, his strength, his charisma, the way he smiled at Jim out of the corner of his mouth as he talked.
Right in the middle of an anecdote about how Silver and his crew had narrowly escaped a vicious band of rival pirates, Jim decided to push his luck a little.
He let his arm hang down, lightly brushing his right hand against Silver’s organic one.
The other man stumbled over his words before he quickly got it all back under control, carefully schooling his face back into the charming mask. But Jim had seen him slip. It was all real, then- how powerful he felt, knowing that he held the key to Silver’s true self. That he could break past his iron defenses and get at that soft heart he’d always known was there.
It was foolish to say he’d “gone soft” for Jim- he only wondered how a life of piracy, of gold and obsession, had somehow failed to completely blacken the soul underneath, even if the man himself was tainted and twisted and half-metal. And, yeah, a ruthless mutineer, probably murderer, definite arsonist of the original Benbow. Two sides of the same coin.
(Like a gold doubloon, Jim thought stupidly.)
After a millisecond that seemed like a century, Silver seemed to make up his mind and grasped Jim’s hand in his own, with unmistakable intent. Jim was forced to keep up with him now, large clawed thumb rubbing tiny circles over the side of Jim’s clammy fist as if to say it’s okay, as if all of this was the natural order of things. Jim couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he wildly tried to suppress the very obvious effect Silver was having on him. His heart was hammering out of his chest and he struggled for air as he kept pace.
It was everything and not nearly enough, all at once. Again, Jim was overcome with the overwhelming desire to let him in.
Silver suddenly stopped, forcing Jim to stop in his tracks too. He looked up from his feet and found that they were standing in front of a narrow alleyway. Silver rubbed at his cheek self-consciously as he half-smiled at Jim. Not letting go of his hand, Jim noted (as if he could forget that- his nerves were on fire in every place they were touching). He looked almost bashful, like he was about to ask Jim something and was afraid of his answer.
“What is it?” Jim asked. Ask me, he thought. Ask me anything and I’ll say yes.
“Well, I- I’ve been renting a room here for the past couple o’ weeks- nothing fancy, mind you, just a bed and some space to put me things.”
“Yeah?” Jim replied, still unsure where Silver was going with this. He had hoped maybe he’d drag him down the alley, push him up against the bricks and kiss the sense out of him ask him to get a drink or something. Yeah. Drinks sounded good.
Silver looked at him, then looked away. Jim swore he could see a flush creeping into the other man’s cheeks.
Then it clicked. “Are you- are you asking me inside?”
Silver coughed. “Thought maybe since we’d got so much catching up to do, best to do it somewhere private. Don’t want anyone reportin’ back to our ol’ lady captain that they’ve seen this ugly mug, aye?” He grinned wide, but there was something else behind it. “And I’ve got a few bottles o' wine I’ve been savin’ for a special occasion.”
Jim couldn’t control the stupid grin that crept its way onto his face, or the flush. “I’d like that.”
He let Silver lead him down the alley and up the stairs to his apartment, and through his tiny kitchen. Jim’s eyes were working double-time trying to absorb every object in the room, and memorize every touch that Silver had given the place. He had the man within arm’s length and it still wasn’t enough. Silver contained multitudes, a lifetime that Jim had missed, and Jim felt like he had to do everything he could to unravel him.
Before he knew it, they were in Silver’s bedroom, and the other man was ushering Jim to take a seat on the wide bed against the wall. Silver took his own post next to Jim and pulled a bottle of wine out of the top drawer of the nightstand. He smirked at Jim and held out the bottle, indicating the label.
“This here’s the finest Protean wine a man can get this side of the Magellanic Cloud, Jimbo. Been savin’ it since before our journey to Flint’s trove, how about that?”
Jim tried to make himself small on his side of the bed, careful not to overstep his boundaries. “Before you got saddled with me, huh?”
Silver barked out a laugh, clapping Jim hard across the shoulders with his mechanical hand. “Ain’t no ‘saddlin’ about it, Jimmy lad. I missed ye dearly. Even you gettin’ under me feet all the time.”
Jim exhaled, leaning just the slightest bit into Silver’s hand, which remained on his shoulder. “I missed you too,” he murmured. It was profound in some way, he thought, that they were going to take a drink of something from Silver’s past, when that very subject had plagued Jim’s thoughts for so many sleepless nights.
It was silent, for a moment. Jim cautiously lifted his eyes from his own lap to meet Silver’s, and forced himself to hold the eye contact. Silver looked… nervous. And afraid, and maybe a little bit hopeful.
Eventually Silver coughed, and the moment shattered. “I’ll go get us some glasses, aye, lad?” He plucked Jim’s now-empty coffee cup out of his hands, shuffled off to the kitchen and left Jim alone on the bed with his thoughts.
When he came back with the glasses, Jim moved to get up, but Silver waved him back down into his seat.
“We’re not gonna drink on the bed, are we? You’ll never get your deposit back!”
Silver chuckled from his position by the nightstand, popping the cork and half-filling each glass. “Eh, I trust ye to be careful. ‘S a dirty old mattress anyway.” Jim conceded and accepted his wine glass from Silver’s huge hand. Silver’s glass looked almost comically dainty compared to Jim’s, his massive mechanical hand dwarfing it.
Jim took an experimental sip and was surprised at how sweet the wine was. Like raspberries, he thought. It was easy to drink, and as Silver began to recount more stories from his past adventures, Jim laughed along and gasped in all the appropriate places. Before he knew it, the glass was empty and he was buzzing.
“And then I swooped in with me leg cannon, and I-” Silver glanced over at Jim as he acted out the tale with his mechanical arm, and paused. Silver’s expression softened from a fierce grin to something warmer. “Ah, lad, you look a bit lost.”
Jim jolted in his seat. Oh, fuck, he’d been staring, definitely with a huge dopey grin on his face- “Uh, sorry, I was just spaced out.”
“Ye always were a dreamer, if I recall.” And then Silver leaned over to set his own glass down, and Jim was left for a moment to furiously try and compose himself and not look so goddamn lovestruck- and then Silver’s mechanical arm settled around Jim’s shoulders again, hauling him closer this time. Jim was stunned.
Silver rubbed Jim’s bicep with his thumb. “Ye’re a real good kid, Jimbo. You know that? Ye’ve got a good heart.” His voice sounded far away.
Jim leaned in, testing the waters, until it was too late and his cheek was pressed against Silver’s chest. Instead of pushing him away, the metal grip tightened.
Jim looked up at Silver. “Can I tell you something?”
The fearful look returned to Silver’s eyes. “Anything, lad.”
Jim took a deep breath. “I think I need you. Here, with me.”
This time it was Silver’s turn to look stunned. “Ah, Jimbo, you don’t need a mangy old space dog to tie you down. I’d be keepin’ yer youth from ye, lad, ye’d get in all sorts of trouble just fer bein’ seen with me-”
Jim interrupted him. “Silver.”
Silver just looked at him, lost.
Jim leaned up. And tilted his head back just the slightest bit, praying to whatever God there was that Silver would pick up on the universal body language. “Please.”
Silver met him halfway. Jim felt more than heard the other man moan as their mouths connected, finally, finally. The first few kisses were chaste, but before he knew it Silver was tugging Jim closer and Jim was climbing onto the older man’s lap, sitting up on his knees so he could reach better, and Silver was mumbling Jim’s name into his lips over and over again. This was it. Jim felt like he had gone blind, because everything in the entire world was right under his hands and Silver’s tongue was pressing into his mouth- and- oh God, this was everything, wasn’t it? Nothing except for Silver and his hard, needy kisses, his rough and steady hands, holding Jim’s hips like he’d fall apart if they weren’t there to support him. Jim felt like that might be true.
Jim bit at Silver’s bottom lip and he heard the other man groan again. It thrilled Jim to see that he could have any fraction of the effect on Silver that Silver had on him.
Eventually Jim had to pull away, gasping for air. Silver gripped his hips tighter, and leaned in to press their foreheads together. For a moment they just stayed there, sharing the same breath, eyes closed.
“What could ye possibly want with an ol’ bucket of bolts like me, Jim?” Silver whispered, eyes still closed. Jim leaned in to kiss his forehead.
“You’re the only one I want,” Jim whispered back. Not technically answering the question, but he didn’t want to scare Silver off with an I love you this early in the game.
“Same fer me, lad- haven’t been able to get ye off me mind all these years. But ye’re too good for me, ye are, ye do know that, right, Jim?”
“I don’t care.” And really, didn’t Jim deserve to get what he wanted, for once? Hadn’t he paid his dues to the universe, put in his time at the academy, done his self-reflection and thinking and agonizing?
Silver chuckled, low and rumbling in his chest. Jim didn’t miss the sparkling of a tear at the corner of his organic eye. “Well, blast me, Jim. If this is really what ye want, I wouldn’t tell ye no. Probably better that I did, mind, for the both of us.” Silver exhaled shakily, glancing away from Jim guiltily.
Jim was a man now, and free to make his own decisions. “Maybe. I’m not afraid, though.”
Silver really laughed at that. “Oh hoh! Big, strong man, are ye, Jimbo? Not scared of nothin’ no more? They’ll lock you up good and tight if they find out who you’ve thrown yer lot in with.”
Jim sighed, eyes slipping closed. He caught Silver’s wrists in his hands, still on Jim’s hips, and rubbed circles into them with his thumbs. “I know. It’ll be tough, at first. But we’ll figure it out. I want to try.”
Silver hummed and leaned close again, bumping Jim’s nose with his own. “Anything you want, lad,” he murmured, shallow breaths ghosting over Jim’s lips.
“Just want you,” Jim mumbled, and before he knew it Silver’s lips were on his again, and it was so hot, so perfect, everything Jim had ever wanted.
Jim parted his lips and let their tongues mingle together, and felt Silver nip his bottom lip hard. Jim moaned into Silver’s mouth as the other man’s hands moved from his hips up his back, under his shirt, then cupping his face. Silver rubbed Jim’s back as the two of them got lost in each other, and it was like no time had even passed at all.
Eventually Jim had to pull back for air, a loose string of saliva still connecting their lips. They both laughed, and Silver moved in to kiss him again, this time chaste and sweet. Jim eyed the nightstand, and Silver, following his gaze, laughed deep in his chest and god Jim would never get tired of hearing that sound, of feeling the vibrations through the older man’s chest as he straddled his lap. “Want some more?”
Jim nodded, and Silver disentangled him from his lap to pour them some more drinks, Jim feeling only slightly disgruntled from the loss of the warm body underneath him. The minutes melted into each other as they drank, and just talked, Jim leaning into Silver’s side. Jim told him everything, the Academy, the Benbow, his family, the captain (Silver appeared less than enthusiastic upon hearing about how often she dropped by), B.E.N., his mother’s cooking, the leak in the roof and the flowers in the yard and his friends from school. Halloween, Christmas, the lights, the warm drinks. How much he missed Silver’s special mocha hot chocolate, and how he’d tried to make it himself but it never turned out the same. Everything.
“Ah, Jimbo, I’d be happy to whip some of that up for you sometime. Say, whatever happened to little Morphy, eh? You been treatin’ him right?”
“Of course I have! He’s a little sneak, he keeps turning into my toothbrush whenever I’m not looking. But he loves Mom’s cooking. Maybe not as much as yours, but he gets plenty to eat, and the Doppler kids keep him busy.”
And Silver gave everything in return, telling Jim the tale of his last few years in hiding, all the screwy adventures and wild near-misses he’d had, but making sure to mention how he’d always been thinking of Jim in the back of his mind. How he knew he couldn’t get captured or killed or tossed off the side of a ship into the waiting jaws of a Candarian zapwing, because he hadn’t seen Jim yet, hadn’t said a proper hello or goodbye, and that was the most important thing of all, wasn’t it?
Their glasses were empty, and Silver took Jim’s and put them both on the nightstand. Jim felt like he was floating, or dreaming a wonderful dream, one he didn’t want to wake up from. Without really realizing, Jim let Silver coax him into lying down on the bed and pull the covers over them. Jim felt his eyes slip shut, and he shuffled closer. Distantly, he felt Silver’s arms wrap around him. He laid his head against the other man’s chest.
“Silver?” he murmured.
He felt a questioning “hmm” noise vibrate against his ear. “Can I ask you something, and it might be kinda weird- and you can say no, but…”
Silver kissed his forehead, and Jim could feel him smiling as his mouth stayed there. “Anything, lad.”
Jim bit his lip. He shifted, just enough to push his fingertips under the hem of Silver’s untucked shirt. “I want to, uh, feel you against me.” He paused, adding “Please.”
Silver snorted. “Movin’ a bit fast there, are we, Jimbo?” Jim could tell that he winked at him in the darkened room, because the glow from his cybernetic eye shuttered for a moment. He blushed and hoped that Silver couldn’t tell- but Silver twisted his arms away from Jim for a moment and shucked off his shirt without any self-consciousness. Before Jim really got a chance to look at the man before him, Silver’s hands were tugging on Jim’s own shirt, encouraging him to do the same.
Jim allowed Silver to pull his shirt over his head, and the pirate threw it somewhere across the room. Jim laughed at the carelessness, and looked up at Silver’s face, the other man’s features heavy with emotion. After a moment, Jim felt Silver’s hands on his hips again, hauling him closer. Both on their sides, their chests touched, and Jim gasped at the feeling. Even something as simple as this, just his skin being flush with Silver’s, was enough to send heat racing through Jim’s body. Jim put his arm around as much of Silver as he could, right arm pinned to the bed due to their sideways positions, and raked his nails up and down Silver’s back. He swore he could hear the other man purr deep in his throat. Silver’s mechanical arm wrapped around Jim’s side, keeping them pressed together, finger pads pressing up and down Jim’s spine.
Jim leaned up to breathe into the older man’s neck, and pressed a kiss there. Silver’s hand came up to stroke through Jim’s hair, keeping him there, both of them breathing deeply.
The next thing Jim knew it was morning, and he was almost afraid to crack his eyes open, terrified that he’d be in his room at the Benbow and the whole thing had just been another one of his wild fantasies. But when he opened his eyes he was still in Silver’s room, and he had rolled over in his sleep, his back now pressed to Silver’s front. The big man had his face pressed between Jim’s neck and shoulder, still breathing deeply. Jim could feel his breaths moving the hair on his head back and forth, just slightly. Jim smiled. He looked around and saw their shirts, discarded halfway across the room, and the empty wine glasses on the nightstand. He saw bright sunlight, streaming through the window, laying strips across their bare chests where the light came through the blinds. He looked down and saw Silver’s cybernetic hand, and his arm wrapped around him, keeping Jim close. Jim took his own right hand and threaded his fingers through Silver’s, holding their hands close to his chest. Silver murmured a questioning noise in his ear.
“I love you,” Jim mumbled, almost inaudible. He was sure Silver didn’t hear him.
But after a moment, Silver grunted, as if to wake himself up. He lifted his head from Jim’s neck, and cracked his neck a little. Then, he leaned back down to kiss behind Jim’s ear. “Love you too,” he said, metal fingers tightening around Jim’s.
Jim couldn’t contain himself. He rolled around in Silver’s embrace, tucking his head under Silver’s chin, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks.
He felt Silver nosing at the top of his head, then pressing another kiss to his hair, rubbing Jim’s back soothingly. He didn’t know how they’d figure this out. He didn’t know how he’d explain this to Mom, or Amelia and Doppler, or, hell, even B.E.N. But he was going to try to make things work. And anyway, Jim had found over the years that he was pretty good at charting his own course. All the rest could come later.
END