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Decklan

"Five," Decklan finished quietly, his paw firm as he stroked the fur on Jamey's lower back.

The jackal was loose and relaxed against him, breathing slow and even. If Decklan didn't know better, he would think Jamey was asleep--in fact, he had mistaken Safrilly for being asleep in this state several times. But Jamey's eyes were still open, unfocused, staring fuzzily at some point beyond Decklan's stomach.

"Good boy," Decklan rumbled, and moved his paw to Jamey's head, massaging the base of his ears. Jamey sighed quietly and pressed his skull into Decklan's paw, seeking the sensation with a raw oppenness that was so far from his usual guarded demeanor that Decklan had to hold his breath for a moment and just look at him.

Having Jamey in his cot was a fantasy come to life. It was, simultaneously, both less and more than what Decklan had imagined. Less, because it felt so achievable, like he could have this again if he wanted--like this could become wonderfully routine, having Jamey stretched out beside him this way, quiet and restful.

More, because the weight of emotion on his chest was so strong that he felt like he had to breathe around it. He had to fight the urge to gather Jamey up in his arms and squeeze him.

But Decklan could resist. It was easy, really, because the desire to see Jamey so relaxed and peaceful was stronger than anything else. He rubbed his blunt claws along the base of Jamey's ears, and Jamey sighed again quietly, and it was perfect.

Then Jamey started to shake.

Decklan faltered and lifted his paw to see Jamey's face better. Jamey immediately whined, tilting his head up as if to follow Decklan's paw. The dim lights of the bridge glinted off tears that were gathering in his eyes.

"Jamey?" Decklan asked quietly, and Jamey whined again and squirmed like he was trying to get closer, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Decklan's sleep pants. He was still under, clearly. Marley had mentioned something like this, during one of their conversations over the past few days while Jamey had been hidden away; that buried emotions and trauma could sometimes surface in subspace, when the submissive let go of whatever they were guarding against. Maybe he'd brought it up because he expected something like that would happen with Jamey.

Decklan took a deep breath, then said, "alright," working to keep his voice quiet and reassuring, and began stroking Jamey along his back and shoulders, watching his face.

There was an immediate release of tension at the return of Decklan's paw. The shaking continued, though, intermittent shudders that seemed to start in Jamey's core and radiate out through his entire body. The tears in his eyes were falling now, rolling down his muzzle. Jamey didn't react to them. Decklan couldn't resist dipping his paw down to brush them away. Jamey huffed and nuzzled into his paw, so Decklan left it there, rubbing circles into the fur of Jamey's cheek with his thumb and feeling Jamey's tears hot against his palm.

Was this what Jamey had been worried about when he said Decklan might be disappointed?

Decklan took a slow breath, then asked, "Jamey, can you tell me what's wrong?"

Jamey's ears twitched, and his brow wrinkled under Decklan's paw. Then he siad, "I'm sorry," quietly, his voice shaking as another tremor went through him.

"I'm not mad. I just want to understand, so I can help," Decklan said, lifting his paw to see the jackal's face again. "What are you feeling right now?"

Jamey frowned and turned his face into Decklan's thigh instead, curling his body around where Decklan still had his paws captured, like he was trying to hide. "I'm sorry," he repeated, more emphatically and with an edge of obstinance, like Decklan was being stupid. After a second, it came together.

"That's what you're feeling. You're sorry?"

Jamey nodded, his face pressed into Decklan's thigh still. Decklan grunted in understanding. "Alright. Thank you. That's very good." Jamey responded immediately to the praise, the tight curl of his body loosening, so Decklan said, "you're being so good for me," and Jamey relaxed further, humming quietly. Decklan rubbed his head gently and took a moment to think.

He wanted to ask what Jamey was sorry for, but it didn't take a genius to realize that the answer likely had something to do with Brandin Wrath. Jamey had been very clear about not wanting to talk about him. But Jamey was shaking like a leaf against him, and he had to do something.

Maybe it was a good idea to get Jamey in his arms after all.

Decklan needed both of his paws, which meant he had to release Jamey's. As soon as he did, Jamey whined nervously and reached for him, grabbing clumsily at Decklan's flank.

"You're alright," Decklan murmured, keeping his voice low and calm. "I'm not going anywhere. Settle down." He covered Jamey's grasping paw with his own again and rubbed his thumb over the wrist, repetitive and gentle. It took a minute, but Jamey finally loosened his grip, then exhaled in a quiet, shaking gasp as another shudder went through him.

Decklan released his wrist slowly, then slid his paw under Jamey's head, lifting it so that he wouldn't jostle Jamey too much as he shifted into a reclining position. Then he grabbed Jamey under his arms and lifted him, pulling him close until Jamey was laying mostly on top of him, their chests pressed together.

That was important. Decklan had heard it before, and Marley had mentioned it as well: chest-to-chest contact was innately comforting and helped to regulate brain chemicals associated with fear and loneliness.

He wrapped his arms around Jamey, closing him in, and Jamey went limp against him.

"Good boy," Decklan murmured, as quietly as he was able, his voice more of a movement in his chest than words. Jamey buried his damp face in the crook of Decklan's neck and inhaled deeply, then let out a surprised-sounding hiccough that became a low sob as the shaking finally resolved into proper crying.

"Alright. That's good," Decklan told him, and began rubbing his back, stroking up and down Jamey's spine with one paw. Jamey shifted his head, rubbing his face into Decklan's shoulder and wheezing out quiet sobs that were muffled in Decklan's thick fur as Decklan continued to murmur reassurances.

It took ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before Jamey's breathing evened out. Decklan spoke more quietly and less frequently as Jamey became a limp, warm weight draped over him. After a while, sensing that the jackal was close to sleep and worried that he might get cold, Decklan snagged the quilt bundled on the side of the cot and pulled it up over the both of them. Jamey snuggled closer to him, and Decklan murmured, "there, good boy."

Jamey surprised him then by speaking. "I want to," he mumbled, his voice quiet and hoarse, but the words clear.

"You want to what?"

"Want to be good."

Decklan rubbed Jamey's back and considered what to say. He could insist that Jamey was good--but he'd said that already, many times over. If Jamey wasn't open to hearing it, then Decklan wouldn't help any by repeating it another time.

"Alright," he said finally. "I believe you. I want to help you be good."

Jamey's paw flexed to grip Decklan's shoulder tighter, and then he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a puff of heat that Decklan could feel even through his fur.

Decklan turned his head to nuzzle Jamey's ears. "How about we start by sleeping?"

"Yes," Jamey said immediately. "Okay, Decklan."

"Okay," Decklan agreed, and squeezed Jamey gently. He stayed awake until he heard Jamey begin to snore very quietly, and then, finally, was dragged into sleep by the warm weight of Jamey on top of him.

***

Jamey

Jamey felt good.

He recognized that before he even fully woke up. His body tingled pleasantly, like blood was finally flowing through muscles that had been tense too long. He felt well-rested and deeply comfortable.

He shifted to snuggle deeper into the bed, and a massive bear paw resting on his spine grabbed on, holding him in place.

That woke him up quick. And it also aggravated his bladder, making him aware of what had dragged him out of sleep in the first place. He grunted quietly in irritation--he didn't want to get up, he was comfortable--but his body was insistant.

He squirmed to try and slip out from under Decklan's paw, but the bear just held him tighter, snuffling quietly in his sleep. He wasn't digging in with his claws; Jamey felt a strangely fond wash of exasperation as he realized that he didn't expect Decklan to ever be careless with his claws, even while asleep. But he was keeping Jamey trapped easily with his strength alone.

"Decklan," Jamey whispered. "Let me up, I have to pee."

Decklan snuffled again, and then licked his muzzle, but didn't wake up.

Jamey considered his options, and then jabbed Decklan lightly in the side with one of his own blunt claws. Decklan grunted and mumbled something that wasn't quite a word, and finally let Jamey go, rolling as if to protect his flank from further assault.

Jamey slipped out of the cot. The ship's temperature only dropped a couple of degrees during the night cycle, both to save energy and to provide a more comfortable sleeping environment, but the floor still chilled his feet after the heat of sharing a blanket with Decklan. Jamey rolled his shoulders to prevent an involuntary shiver and folded his arms over his chest, peering around the bridge to orient himself. His vision was too fuzzy with sleep for him to read any of the clocks available, but it felt like it was hours still until morning.

Jamey made his way quietly to the bathroom of the crew quarters, thinking mostly of getting back into the warmth of Decklan's bed as quickly as possible.

But as he used the toilet and washed his paws, his mind drifted back through the tangled memories of the evening, tugging them apart until they lay in order, and embarrassment rose hot in his chest. He stopped to stare at himself in the mirror, wincing at the evidence of dried tears in the fur of his face. Had he really cried all over Decklan? Shit. Really attractieve, Jamey.

Not that Decklan had minded. He'd said he didn't, anyway, and Jamey believed him, because Decklan was extraordinarily honest for a former space pirate. Not that Jamey had met any other space pirates, former or otherwise.

Decklan hadn't minded because he just wanted to help. Because he was sweet like that. He was the kind of guy who would go out of his way to help Jamey just because Jamey was having a very obvious breakdown on his ship and Decklan was worried. And he'd made it very clear that he didn't expect anything in return.

He probably wasn't even attracted to Jamey.

Jamey splashed water on his face to wash the salt of the tears away, and then ran his paw through the fur on top of his head, straightening it.

He should go back to Decklan's cot. Decklan would expect him to be there in the morning, wouldn't he? That was a reasonable expectation when you'd fallen asleep with someone. He'd be concerned, probably, if he woke up and Jamey wasn't there.

But if Jamey was there in the morning--

They'd have some kind of conversation, probably. Decklan would want to know if he felt better. If it had helped. And there was no way Jamey would be able to hide how he felt about Decklan.

Who was he kidding? Decklan had probably already figured it out, he wasn't stupid. Even before the scene--if Jamey having a messy meltdown after a bit of rough petting could even be called a scene--he had been very explicit about how they weren't going to have sex. Jamey hadn't really thought about it at the time, and maybe it was normal to set boundaries like that given the circumstances, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how often he'd just looked at Decklan during the card game. He hadn't exactly been subtle.

Fuck, he was embarrassing. Like a little kid with a crush.

Not that Decklan would ever make fun of him. He'd be very kind about it, like he was about everything else. He kept finding new ways to surprise Jamey, and he'd probably have some words that would make this feel okay, some way of making Jamey feel less small and pathetic and stupid.

Jamey tugged on his own ear and made a quiet noise of frustration, then crept out into the common room, peering through the doorway onto the bridge. Decklan had rolled onto his side, one paw outstretched across the cot, like he was looking for Jamey in his sleep.

Jamey stared for a moment, his gut churning. Finally, he admitted to himself that he was a coward and retreated back to his own room, locking the door behind him.

***

Decklan

Decklan was more surprised than he had a right to be when he woke up alone.

He hadn't asked Jamey to make any promises. Hell, he hadn't even said out loud that he'd like for Jamey to stay for the whole night, just that Jamey could, and he had done that on purpose, because he hadn't wanted to set any expectations. The night before had clearly been a huge step outside of Jamey's comfort zone, and Decklan would never want to push him for more than he was ready to give.

But it was still a small shock--to fall asleep with Jamey's weight on him, warm and trusting, and then to wake up in an empty cot.

He'd have almost thought it was a dream, except Jamey's scent still lingered in his bedding, and the collar he'd taken off Jamey's neck was still laying on the table beside the deck of cards they'd played with.

Decklan tidied his cot and folded it back into its compartment, then picked up the deck of cards and took it with him. The collar he left where it was; he wasn't sure if Jamey would come looking for it; after some thought, he dug out the soft collar he'd purchased for Jamey on that first day and laid it out next to the old collar, hoping that if Jamey needed to wear one, he'd make the safer choice.

He put the cards away on the shelf as he passed through the common room on his way to the showers. He allowed himself some extra time in the shower, lost in thought as the hot water rained down on him.

This was one of the luxuries that made it worthwhile, running his own ship: everything was outfitted for his size. He might make more at the end of the day if he took a crew position on a bigger ship or on a station somewhere, but most common showers only came to his shoulders at best. He'd grown up with the indignity of being made to feel out of place, too large, and he wasn't willing to contend with it in his own living quarters. Maybe that made him a stubborn fool, but he didn't regret it.

By the time he dried and dressed himself, the ambient lighting was warming from early to mid-morning. When he stepped back out into the common room, he got another shock: Safrilly was sitting on the couch, and Jamey was with her.

They were watching something together on a phone--Marley's, presumably--and Jamey had his arm around Safrilly's shoulders, pulling her snug against him like the day they'd first boarded the ship, like Jamey had never closed himself off in his room.

Jamey glanced up, attentive to his surroundings as always, and made eye contact with Decklan. His ears immediately twitched back and his eyes widened, and then he ducked his head close to Safrilly's to avoid Decklan's gaze.

That wasn't like the first day. Decklan's chest swelled with gratification that he'd not only drawn Jamey out of his room, but also put a crack in that cool, emotionless shell that had been isolating Jamey even before his retreat.

"Morning," he said, to neither of them in particular. Jamey's shyness did make him want to pick on him a little, but he wasn't confident enough that he'd be able to do so without genuinely upsetting Jamey and maybe scaring him back into hiding.

"Good morning, Decklan," Safrilly chirped. She didn't seem surprised by the way Jamey was practically hiding behind her, so Decklan gathered that Jamey had told her something of what had happened the night before. Or maybe she had just drawn her own conclusions; Safrilly was sharp that way. "What's for breakfast?"

Jamey muttered something that sounded like not your personal chef, and Safrilly swatted him on the knee without turning her big, bright eyes away from Decklan. Decklan smiled--he couldn't help it--and Safrilly's eyebrows lifted in a knowing look.

Decklan cleared his throat and said, "why don't you and Jamey pick something out?"

"Can we?" Safrilly demanded, immediately excited.

"You know how to use the machine."

Safrilly squealed in excitement, but she didn't immediately bounce off the couch like she usually would. That was probably because of the death-grip Jamey had on her arm. Jamey was still turned towards her, too, staring resolutely at the phone she'd abandoned in her lap like he was hoping he'd be invisible to Decklan if he didn't look at him.

Decklan grunted. "Pick out whatever you want when you're hungry. I have to check our course." He didn't, but maybe if he was occupied at the pilot's controls for a while, that would help Safrilly dislodge Jamey from the couch.

As he made his way back onto the bridge, Safrilly said under her breath, "you have got to calm down, you didn't even get laid," and Jamey responded with a strangled yelp of indignation. Safrilly squeaked in a way that implied she'd receive some kind of consequences, maybe tickling.

Decklan chuffed and sat in the pilot's seat, and grudgingly accepted the realization that this was the most lived-in that the PENNY had felt in a long time.