Original Two Sides of the Same Coin - Part 14/? - Updated Jan 11, 2022

[starpollen]

WARNING: This story contains bad language.

Notes: This is a futuristic, sci-fi/fantasy, AU space story. One of the stories I am most proud of, and I think that is saying something after all these years.  Please comment, and I hope you enjoy!   (Edited Jan 7, 2022).

Part 1

It was hate at first sight.

The two boys stared at each other, the brown-haired one in his fine silk suit and the white-blond one in threadbare jeans. Riordan’s amber eyes glared at his new ‘companion’s’ dove-gray irises with more than a little contempt.

“This is Caliph,” his father said, his strong hands resting on his nine year-old son’s shoulders. “He’ll be living with us for the next couple of years, and then accompany you to the Academy.”

“Go ahead, Rio,” his mother urged. “Say hello.”

A beat.

“Hello.”

His father just laughed at his son’s icy greeting, not sparing another glance for the new arrival. “Come, love,” he drew his willowy lady away. “Let’s leave the lads to get better acquainted.”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the boys in the room alone, still standing where they’d left them.

Ten seconds of frozen stillness.

Then, Riordan’s upper lip curled into a sneer, before he turned and marched away without another word.

-- -- --

“Caliph, catch!”

The large duffel came flying through the air before the twelve year-old was ready, glancing off his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. Pain exploded from his wrist as he landed on it wrong, and he bit his lip in an effort not to hiss.

Riordan’s laughter hit the air a second later, the eleven year-old sauntering up to lean against the transport with crossed arms. “And to think, father chose you as my shill. You’re more likely to get me killed the first six months of training.”

Caliph managed to get up without wincing, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “My lord,” he mumbled, flipping the duffel into the transport one-handed. His wrist was numb, but he knew from experience it would soon begin to throb hotly.

One of Riordan’s favorite pastimes was arranging for Caliph to hurt himself.

“Are you ready, Rio?” his father asked as he and his mother came around the corner.

“Yes, sir,” the brunet straightened, flicking a warning glance to Caliph. As if the blond didn’t know by now to keep his mouth shut.

“Good. Your ship leaves at 0900 sharp, so we should get going.”

Once, a shill was only used by kings, a companion to ride beside him in battle and whose only duty was to keep him alive, to step in front of enemy fire, his body a human shield in the war against death. Now - almost eighty years into the inter-stellar conflict over the one inhabitable virgin planet in the system - every wealthy family purchased shills for their sons. The government might be able to require every male to attend the Academy and serve twelve years in the military, but it couldn’t keep the wealthy from protecting those sons at all costs.

Why would they want to, when shills added 30% more soldiers to their forces?

Caliph turned away while Riordan’s mother lavished her only son with tearful affection. The familiar pit yawned in his stomach when Riordan brushed off his mother’s kisses and tuned out his father’s warm words of caution that served as masculine sentiment.

Caliph’s uncle had been more than happy to sell him, and it was the only kind thing the bastard ever done. As rough as Rio was with him, at least he didn’t have to worry about swinging pipes and burning cigarettes.

Father and son climbed into the transport, but as soon as Caliph moved to join them Lady Mairead had her hands on his shoulders. “You bring him home,” she ordered softly, fingers digging into his skin as her eyes welled with more tears.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, gray eyes wide and unblinking. Occasionally Master Finn would rest a hand on his shoulder, but Riordan’s mother had never touched him.

“Safe,” she continued, giving him a small shake, those chocolate brown eyes spearing his heart with their grief and fear.

“Safe.,” he repeated hollowly.

“And whole.”

“Whole.”

Suddenly, he was being crushed against her, surrounded by motherly softness and steel, barely daring to breathe. The only hug he’d ever received.

Then, he was stumbling, catching his balance against the transport as she all but ran back into the house.

-- -- --

“Move! Move! Move!”

His breath burning in his lungs, Rio pumped his legs harder, clutching his rifle to his chest as the captain roared over the pounding rain. The fifteen year-old hated drills, hated formations, hated the barracks and the food and...

His foot slipped, sending him to his knees. “Mother fucker!” he hissed, feeling the squish of mud between his fingers, slipping into the legion of crevices on his weapon. It would take hours to clean it all out.

A big hand closed around his upper arm, hauling him back to his feet and pulling him forward. He didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“You all right?” Caliph’s rumbling bass managed to slip under the storm.

“Fine,” he bit through clenched teeth, yanking his arm out of the other boy’s grasp. Caliph’s hair had darkened to gold in the rain, water sheeting down his tanned skin, his gray eyes unreadable. Rio growled, sprinting ahead so he wouldn’t have to look at the walking reminder of his inadequacy as a soldier.

Most of all, Rio hated Caliph. The sixteen year-old was bigger, stronger, faster. While Rio fought tooth and nail every day at the Academy, his shill took to it like a duck to water, already earning Rio three citations. Which was a good thing because they managed to counteract the demerits he would have otherwise accumulated on his own.

Thunder boomed in the distance, promising another several hours of downpour. Perfect.

It was only 0700.

-- -- --

“You’re sure about this, son?”

“Yes, sir,” he kept his golden-brown eyes staring straight ahead, arms clasped behind his back ‘at ease.’

“Well, okay. I just thought you might want to take these two weeks of leave to go home, see your parents. Once you ship out it might be two years or more before you’re back on terra firma.”

“I understand, sir. I’d like to start as soon as possible.” The sooner he started, the sooner he could finish this next little slice of hell and get back to his real life.

“What about Private Caliph?”

“What about him, sir?” his commanding officer didn’t miss the hardening of Rio’s jaw even if he managed to keep the words even.

“There’s no one he might want to see before being deployed?”

“No,” this time the eighteen year-old couldn’t keep the bite from his voice. “Sir.”

A beat of silence.

“All right. You’ll ship out tomorrow morning, 0600, on the Nai Ping. Take tonight to pack up, say goodbye to the Academy. If you have any messages you want sent, leave them with Corporal Hayden.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

-- -- --

Space is cold.

That was the first thing twenty-one year-old Caliph had learned, followed closely by how bland the food was and the location of the head. He and Rio shared a cabin on the lower decks, so small that it only took him 3 steps to cross its width and 4 its depth. His long legs hung off the bunk, his broad shoulders spanning the entire breadth of the lumpy mattress.

Space was also unbearably silent.

The ship didn’t creak, didn’t groan like the water-vessels he’d read about. It floated through the vaccuum without even a whisper, no particles in the air to protest the disturbance.

Twenty year-old Rio spent as little time in their cabin as he could, happier in the galley or down in engineering where he could cheat the other crewmembers of their pay in card and dice games. Caliph preferred it that way, only having to be in the other man’s presence when they worked. They were both assigned to the same rotations, as were the other shills to their charges. Caliph had only met two others on this ship, both unbelievably devoted to their masters. Almost sickeningly so.

He learned that he’d been given to Rio uncommonly late in their lives, that most shills were paired when boys were around three. It explained much.

He sighed, shifting for the hundredth time, trying to get comfortable.

Over a year later and he still couldn’t get used to this bed. Or the cold. He cleared his throat, working to dislodge the mysterious coating he’d woken up with this morning.  He and Rio had spent a year on a lunar base before transferring full-time to the Nai Ping where they had gotten their start in space.  It was a full-heavy ship with maximum-load weaponry, a true battleship.

Laughter echoed in the corridor, right before the door slid open and light flooded the small compartment. Caliph flung his forearm over his eyes, groaning at the dull headache that flared back to life with the intrusion. Dammit. He’d almost gotten rid of it...

“In bed already, C?” Rio barked, amusement and derision saturating his tenor voice. “It’s not even 2100.”

Caliph just grunted, lying still and praying Rio would go find another game so he could sleep off the dragging ache in his limbs.

Rio dropped to his bunk, reaching for the laces of his boots as his gaze raked over the man lying not three feet away. Golden blond hair flopped against the thin pillow, one space-pale arm curved over his face, hiding chiseled features and irritatingly passive gray eyes. It had been years since Rio had managed to raise a spark of defiance in them, no matter what stunts he pulled or how many buttons he pushed. The big, brawny shill always just blinked slowly, waiting for Rio to grow bored and move off to find other prey.

“You hear me?” Rio wadded up a sock and launched it across the small space, chuffing out a sharp laugh when it fell over Caliph’s arm and chin.

“Yeah, I heard you,” the wide palm came up to swipe the offending article to the floor, corded biceps rippling under his thin T-shirt. Caliph’s rumbling bass was rough around the edges, his normally-smooth movements sluggish. He cleared his throat again, wishing he’d thought to grab a bottle of water from the galley after dinner.

Rio leaned back, feeling the cold metal wall bite into his shoulder blades. Tomorrow they touched down on alien soil for the first time, the likelihood of battle more than a little high, and the entire ship was humming with anxious energy.

“We rendezvous on PX-542 at 0800,” came Caliph’s low rumble. “You should get some sleep.”

Rio huffed again, annoyed, but flicked out the lights and settled down into his bunk. After a few tosses and turns and unintelligible grumbles, his breathing evened out. Caliph had always envied the other man’s ability to fall asleep within minutes, no matter where they were, as if he instictively knew he hadn’t a care in the world.

Even though he was tired as hell, it took the older man much longer. He couldn’t seem to clear his throat, trying to keep as quiet as he could. And no position was comfortable.

It seemed like only minutes passed before the lights flicked on, the first mate’s voice over the comm signalling the arrival of 0530 and reveille. Rio dragged himself up, rubbing calloused hands over his face with a jaw-cracking yawn. The galley at 0600 was oddly silent, breakfast swallowed without anyone really paying attention. A sense of unease tinged the air.

Four hours later, Rio and Caliph were hunkered down behind a massive boulder, enemy fire thundering all around. They’d trained for this, had drilled with their rifles and marched in formation and fired at targets until they could do it in their sleep. But this was the real thing.

A shot glanced off the top of the boulder, sending a shower of gravel down onto their heads.

“Shit!” Rio hissed, shaking the dust out of his eyes.

“heh! -ngxt’SHu!” Caliph sneezed, jerking forward and sending his own dust sliding down to his shoulders. “- AHtshoo!”

“Go! Go! Go!” the captain roared, waving an arm like a flag before a bull and sending the men crashing into the fray.

Rio and Caliph stayed shoulder-to-shoulder, running several yards before flinging themselves to the foreign earth and firing rapidly into the hills. Then they’d haul ass to their feet, gain more ground, then fall and fire again. All around them, shots made fountains out of earth and canons roared over their heads.

Then, they were fighting hand-to-hand, rifles abandoned in favor of long knives, pistols, and fists. Rio felt the sting of a shot graze his arm, sending even more adrenaline singing through his veins like wildfire. A glance to Caliph showed he had a cut at his hairline bleeding into his eye, but he just jammed the butt of his pistol down onto the enemy soldier’s temple and whipped his knife into the fallen alien’s back, moving with the lethal grace of some long-extinct jungle cat.

Suddenly something slammed into Rio’s side, taking him down and pinning him to the earth. The blue sun gleamed off a wicked looking blade, poised to sink into his chest...

Then Caliph was there, roaring with the righteous anger of an avenging angel, hauling the enemy soldier up and shooting him between the eyes. The midday glare limned his massive frame in gold, glowing through his hair and radiating behind his back as if giving him fiery wings. His gunmetal eyes were hard and cold, square jaw set and cruel.

He pulled Rio to his feet and crushed him against his hard chest, dragging them both behind another massive rock formation.

“Are you safe?” Caliph’s hands were all over him, wiping away the sudden downpour of sweat that stung his amber eyes and rubbing warmth into his icy, trembling limbs. “Are you whole?”

Rio didn’t think he’d ever heard Caliph’s voice like that, gruff and... angry.

“Answer me, dammit!” Caliph’s strong hands shook him, forcing Rio to look him in the face. Caliph was even paler than usual, teeth clenched, brows drawn over his steely eyes.

“M’fine,” he croaked, shoving his shill away. “Get off me.”

Rio could hear the fight moving further off, hauling himself up and peeking around the rocks. Their forces were pushing the enemy back, their greater numbers cutting through the ranks.

“ehh’kNGtshu!”

Rio glanced over his shoulder, noting the other man’s cheeks tinged the slightest pink, but Caliph simply grunted, “Let’s go,” and the two men jogged to catch up with their unit.

Edited January 11, 2022 by starpollen

[everest]

Wow. This is awesome.

I can't wait for more!

[Dye]

Gaaaaah~! I love it, the characters are so well written, and Caliph is adooooorable! There wouldn't happen to be any more on the way, would there?

[Bongo]

I like this! It's such an interesting spin on Sci-fi

[ooo]

Yay, more from you!

The introduction of your sci-fi world felt neat and smooth, and I really like the way you're exploring the concept of a shill. I like the dynamic you've set up between the two boys, and the repetition of 'safe and whole' was lovely.

[Aprilcot]

Please continue!!

This is absolutely amazing!

I love the setting... where do people get these ideas???!!!!!

Thank you!!!

[LeapYearKisses]

This is excellent so far! I hope you continue soon.

[queenie]

This is a lovely introduction. I found my entry to your world smooth and easy. I can't wait for more. (And I love their names.)

[starpollen]

Thanks guys!  I'm really glad ya'll like it! I have no idea where this is going, just writing for the fun of it. I've sort of been yearning to write some m/m for a while now - I seem to remember someone requesting it a few weeks ago, actually, which kind of planted the seed in my brain - and read a couple of ebooks that finally pushed me over the edge. Hope you like this next bit as the story goes deeper...

WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE (they are soldiers, after all...)

Part 2

No one spoke as the shuttle took them back to the ship, each man silently counting the number of empty seats.

Fifty men to a unit; thirty two had managed to stumble back.

Everywhere he looked, Caliph saw the same glazed expression staring out of shell-shocked faces, trembling fingers jerking in small spasms as they unconsciously squeezed nonexistent triggers.

“Fuck. Geez!...”

“Hold still.”

Rio had taken a slice to his side in that last wave, and now sat against the studded wall cursing a blue streak as the medic cleaned and stitched him up.

“You try to fucking ‘hold still’ while someone uses your ribs as a pincushion-- mother fuck...” the younger man barked, flushing nearly purple as he held his breath and clenched every muscle in his body in order to comply with the medic’s orders.

If they’d been any other shill pairing, Caliph would have had his hand threaded through Riordan’s, letting the man squeeze his pain into calloused fingers while murmuring soft words of encouragement. One of the other two pairs hadn’t survived the battle intact, the shill having stepped in front of an enemy who gutted him in front of his young master’s eyes. When Caliph had finally boarded the shuttle, they hadn’t yet been able to pry the catatonic man’s fingers from his companion’s blood-soaked shirt.

Rio and Caliph sat near enough to touch, light-years apart.

The two of them had earned another citation when Caliph hauled the captain away from the supply truck seconds before it exploded, which would make Rio a Lieutenant. Shills didn’t earn rank, but the promotion would get them both a larger cabin on the next level up, and - Caliph hoped - bigger beds. The debris from the blast had left several bruises on the blond’s back, taking a chunk out of his shoulder. He’d barely felt it when the medic had debrided and bandaged the wound, his arms and legs burning with exhaustion. Only one thought kept spinning around in his head like paper circling a drain: at least they were both in one piece.

Safe. Whole.

Caliph closed his eyes and sucked a wet sniffle, reaching for his canteen. There was only a swallow or two left, and it did little to ease the thick sting in his throat.

“Here.”

He glanced up to see Rio holding out his canteen, the younger man's baritone low and amber eyes dark, more somber than Caliph had seen them in nearly ten years.

“Thanks,” he murmured with soft surprise, tilting his head back and taking several long gulps of cool water.

Back at the ship, they dropped their field packs in the hanger and trudged slowly for the showers. All alien contaminants had to be washed away, their weapons and clothes sterilized before the next mission.

“Hey Rio," a freckled redhead called out. "You see that big mother I got in that second wave?” Devrynt was one of Rio’s card partners, and the two men had a fierce rivalry about everything: who could bench-press more weight, who could eat more hot dogs before throwing up, who was going to bag the most kills in their first battle.

“Yeah, Dev,” Rio muttered absently, peeling his shirt away and checking the waterproof bandage over his wound.

“Big mother fucker. Came at me with this curved sword-lookin’ thing. He swung at my head and, man, I nearly shit myself...”

Dev prattled on as they stripped, but Rio wasn’t listening. It was like his friend was some vlog program the people were listening to in the apartment next door, muffled and far away. It was all he could do to stay in the moment, concentrate on the dry, recycled air of the ship in his nose and the dull ache of his skin where the medic had given him a local before stitching him up.

His dark-gold eyes kept straying to his shill.

Caliph was one of the last to finish shedding his dirt-and-blood stained, sweat-soaked uniform, his movements even slower than usual. The bigger man could haul ass when he had to, but unless they were drilling or killing Rio had never seen him move with anything but deliberate steadiness. He hadn’t even seen the man running to pull that enemy soldier away: one second the blond hadn’t been there, and the next he was.

Steam turned the air hazy and dreamlike, and Rio leaned his back against the cold tiles and let the hot spray run down his face and chest. Blinking the wetness from his eyes, he watched Caliph brace both palms on the wall, dropping his blond head between his rock-hard shoulders as water sluiced down his back.

“--uuhxGSSCHu!” The wet sneeze echoed off the tile, the man’s booming bass adding a depth that vibrated like an amp at a club. A few guys called out blessings, but Rio stayed silent, watching. After a second, another sneeze shivered down Caliph’s broad shoulders, “hehSSCCHHtt!” causing his arms to quiver and shake. When finished, the blond raised his head and blinked rapidly, rubbing at the side of his nose with one finger as he reached for the soap.

Rio was sure he’d heard Caliph sneeze before, but casting his memory back over the previous ten years he’d be damned if he could remember when.

They dressed in the soft sweats and long-sleeved T’s that Rio’s mother had sent before they’d shipped out, barely registering the announcement that their unit was to take the next 72 hours to rest, their duties covered by another unit that had arrived while they were top-side.

Dev kept yammering about the fight as they made their way back to their cabins, giving everyone a play-by-play of his part in it until finally lean, dark-skinned Zethren smacked him upside the head and growled, “Shut the fuck up, man. Nobody gives a shit.”

Rio kept his eyes on Caliph’s broad back, unsettled in some way he couldn’t name. He kept seeing a blue blade and red wings, his palms still sweaty and ears throbbing with a low buzz that no amount of swallowing seemed to pop away.

“Yo,” Zeth called from his doorway, and Rio paused. “We on tonight after chow?”

Rio just shrugged and walked on, cards and food the two last things on his mind.

Once in their cabin, Caliph dropped heavily to his bunk with a barely-swallowed groan, curling his arms around his pillow and burying his face away from the light. He didn’t even bother to remove his boots, chest heaving in a sigh of utter exhaustion.

Rio shut their door, his golden eyes still fixed on the taller man whose big feet hung off the short bunk. He couldn’t seem to stop staring, as if Caliph’s presence was the only thing keeping Rio from wrapping his arms around his stomach and screaming until he puked. Now that they were surrounded by familiar things, now that they were quiet and still, images strobed mercilessly through his brain...

His old bedroom. A shower of gravel.

His father’s warm hand. The green flash of his rifle.

His nana’s chocolate-chip-peanut-butter cookies. The red uniforms swarming around them like ants.

His old German shepherd. The wink and flash of an alien blade.

His mom’s laugh-crinkled smile. The thunderous roar of canon fire.

A blond angel with wings of fire...

Sitting gingerly on the edge of his bunk, barely blinking, Rio fumbled blindly with the laces of his ship’s boots as his dry, gritty eyes raked once more from Caliph’s damp hair down the sculpted shoulders to the tapered waist and thick thighs. When had his shill gotten so damned big? Why had Rio always seen the scrawny, gangly ten-year-old when he’d looked at Caliph, the one who’d invaded his life over ten years ago and forced him to share his room, his toys, his lessons and his family without so much as a by-your-leave?

He’d hated the boy who wouldn’t hit back, who never expressed an opinion of his own, never initiated conversation and clammed up when Rio tried to goad him into an argument. The silent shade who spoke only when spoken to, ate what was put on his plate and cleaned up after himself and Rio without being asked. Hated the brainiac who’d never struggled with anything their tutors had thrown at them, his passive obedience effectively masking a keen intelligence.

Caliph-the-boy had been so irritatingly perfect. Caliph-the-soldier was no different: excelling at every task, rising to every challenge, brave and loyal and strong.

Caliph the Saint was everything Rio the Bad Boy had yearned deep in his heart-of-hearts to become, and more.

And if that hadn’t been enough, now the bastard had the fucking nerve to save his goddamned life.

Rio’s fists curled as fury began to simmer under the surface of his skin. Watched with morbid fascination as the blond shifted and coughed raggedly into his pillow, corded muscles of that broad back rippling under his shirt as they spasmed. It lasted several seconds, and ended with a liquid sniff.

Shit on a stick.

All Caliph wanted to do was sleep. His body throbbed and ached, his throat felt gunky and painful when he swallowed, and ever since he’d sucked that rock dust up his nose it felt like he was two breaths away from a head-splitting sneeze.

But he could feel Riordan’s eyes on him, had known the other man had barely blinked once in the last three hours. He supposed it was only fitting after they’d both killed for the first time, after Rio had come so close to being killed himself.

Not that the battle hadn’t affected Caliph. Far from it. When he’d seen that blade raised high - a split second from being plunged into Rio’s heart - something inside him had snapped. Red had washed his vision and he’d heard this rushing roar like a hundred jets had gone screaming through the sky over their heads. He didn’t remember getting Rio behind the rocks, he only knew that after Rio had pushed him off he’d felt shaky and nauseous, his hands clammy and skin pebbled with a chill he hadn’t been able to shake even when the sweat ran down his back and chest as they’d run to catch up to the second wave. He’d managed to push it down and lock it away until now, the immediacy of battle taking precedence over all. But it was getting harder to keep it there as his battered body slowly let go of all the other tension he’d been knotted with since 0530 this morning.

All he needed was for Rio to go find an ensign to swindle so he could break down in private.

But Rio didn’t leave, didn’t go in search of a card game or to filch food from the galley or to bum nudie pics from the medics. He just sat there, those dusky-golden eyes boring into his back. Caliph could hear him breathing, but as the minutes passed he slowly realized he’d never in their lives seen the other man so absolutely, utterly, deathly still.

“heh- m’MMSCHhh!” he sneezed wetly into his pillow, shifting away from the suddenly drenched spot with a low, groaning sigh. The worst thing about space - he decided with another slurping sniff - worse than the cold or the grating silence was that there was zero privacy.

Shifting, he turned his head to blink blearily at his bunkmate. “Rio?” he croaked, cringing to hear how his hoarse voice cracked on that single word. He cleared his throat again. It took a second or two for him to process the expression in the other man’s face, but once he did he began struggling up onto his elbows. The anger burning in those hard amber chips made Caliph’s stomach drop to his toes. “Y-you okay?” God, what did I do now?...

The fist cracked against his nose like a whip, jerking his head backward and sending stars shooting across his vision.

“... the fuck?...” he gasped when he could, scrambling to his feet and clamping both hands to his streaming, bloody nose and hunching his shoulders against another attack.

But the cabin door had already slammed shut, and Rio was gone.

-- -- --

Sometime around 0230, Rio stumbled back into the cabin, knocking over the few personal items on the wall-mounted shelf and nearly falling onto his bunk.

Caliph came awake with a start, shifting to blink blearily across the small room as Rio flicked on the small lamp. “W-whah?” he mumbled as he took in the sight.

“Heyy Cal’ff,” Rio slurred with a dopey grin and a low giggle as he waved two bottles in clumsy hands. “Bro’t you sump’n.” The smaller man was shit-faced drunk, amber eyes wide and unfocused, his mouth lax and numb.

“Fugk, Rio,” Caliph groaned, sinking back down and coughing into his pillow. “Pass oud already. M’tryig t' sleeb.” His nose had swollen from Rio's punch, thickening his speech.

“C’m on,” Rio stumbled to sit on Caliph’s bed, nearly falling off when he discovered how little room there was for the two of them on the small mattress. “Try some a this. S’good.” He began bouncing just a little, enough to make the top of Caliph’s head bump into the wall.

He sighed, rolling over and sitting up to rest his forearms on his drawn-up knees. When Rio got like this he wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted. “Fide. Hadd it over.”

Rio thrust both bottles out, triumph glowing in his glazed eyes. When Caliph took them Rio moved back to his own bunk with a suspicious snicker. But the sober shill simply stood and stalked down the hall to the Head, opening both bottles and pouring them down the sink.

When he stepped back out into the hall Rio was just managing to peek out their door. “Whr’d you go?” he asked with wide, innocent eyes. “D’ja try it?”

“Yes, Rio,” Caliph rasped, knuckling his runny nose and wincing when it hurt. “It was gread, alrighd? Nuh-... hgk’NTSCHhiu! ugh. Dow... snxxk..." The wet sniffle cleared his consonants. "Now can I go back to sleep?”

Rio blinked, seeming to really get a look at the blond for the first time. “You okay?”

Now Caliph was the one who blinked. “Yeah,” he mumbled, figuring Rio was more drunk that he realized. The other man had never asked him that question before. “HEHH’gshhhttt!” He sneezed wetly into the crook of his arm and then swiped the back of his hand under his nose, a thin trail of wetness left behind in its wake.

As he got closer, he noticed those wide amber eyes were still staring at him. “You’re sneezing.”

Caliph pushed past him into their cabin with another wet sniff. “S’what happens when you suck a lungful of boulder dust, genius,” he didn’t want to cough again, but that gunky coating in his throat kept tickling. He raised an elbow and hacked into it, the sound lower and harsher than it had been a few hours ago.

Riordan was still standing in the doorway, but had turned to follow the bigger man with his dull gaze. “And you’re coughing.”

Caliph dropped to the edge of his bunk, his aching head in his hands, and rubbed wide, calloused palms over his face. “Are we going to do this all night?” he sighed. “Fine. I’m sneezing, coughing, exhausted, and annoyed. You’re drunk, sweaty, suhh... uh'EESCHTT!... swaying, and repetitive. Does that about cover it?” the big man snapped, swiping under his nose from forefinger to wrist. “Can I go back to bed now?”

Rio stared.

Caliph had never done that before: in ten years, Rio’d never gotten a rise out of him, and he’d done a lot worse than simply being drunk and waking him up. In fact, this was a fairly normal occurrence. But his shill was paler than usual, his hair mussed by sleep, shoulders drooping. More tired than the younger man remembered seeing him since they’d pulled that double night-shift at the Academy as punishment for some stunt Rio had pulled involving the drill sergeant’s boxer shorts.

“Please?” Caliph’s bloodshot gray gaze met his, and you could have knocked Rio over with a feather.

His shill never begged. Never.

“All right, man,” Rio whispered, never taking his eyes off the blond’s tired face as he slowly toed out of his ship’s boots and slipped into his bunk.

If Caliph was surprised by his charge’s uncharacteristic acquiescence, he didn’t show it. He simply grunted, stretched back out on his bunk with a wet sniff, and exhaled long and slow as he settled back down to sleep.

But Rio lay in the dark, feeling the nonexistent dip and lurch of the ship as alcohol continued to work its way through his bloodstream. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Caliph was coming down with something. Like a cold.

But that was highly unlikely: they’d all been immunized against stuff like that before going into space. It was part of the in-depth physical. When they were out where it might be days - or weeks - from a base the more they could do to minimize medical situations the better.

As if merely thinking could conjure it up, Caliph’s soft gasp cut through the darkness, followed by a wet sneeze. The long sniffle that followed sounded anything but healthy.

Rio intended to say something, to do... something...

But he passed out.

-- -- --

“Rise and shine, bitches!” Zeth’s chipper voice called a split second before his fist pounded on the door.

Yanking it open, he wasn’t surprised to see both men still passed out cold, Caliph on his side with his back to the door and Rio sprawled on his back snoring loudly. The comm to all the returning fighters’ rooms had been bypassed so they could sleep past reveille, and it was now almost noon by the ship’s clock. Time to drag the Wonder Twins down to chow.

“Let’s go, Trump,” he yanked Rio’s covers back and smirked to hear the pain-filled groan. Kid had money but still cheated at cards, so the nickname stuck. “Go have a nice puke to get rid of the evil spirits and we’ll fill you back up with holy coffee.”

The hungover brunet lurched obediently into the hall, barely making it to the Head before losing what little remained in his stomach. Zeth, Dev, Rio and Marcum had holed up in one of the cargo bays last night blowing off steam after yesterday’s battle, and - as usual - Rio had drunk them all under the table. Dev and Marc had already been up a few hours and were on the mend, so Z had decided to fetch Rio before the other two could get their hands on him.

The two clowns liked nothing better than pulling pranks on the hung over.

“Wake up, Caliph,” Z shook the bigger man’s shoulder, then turned to go check on Rio.

Silence.

Zeth paused, and glanced back. The man hadn’t moved, harsh, raspy breath echoing from the close metal walls.

“C?” Zeth called again. “Yo, Ken Doll.” Everyone made fun of the shills, especially Rio’s blond built behemoth. He never seemed to care, brushing off their remarks and never rising to the bait.

Hunkering down between the two bunks, Z grasped the blanket-wrapped shoulder and pulled, frowning when he got a good look at the face.

Beads of sweat glistened on Caliph’s pale skin, cheeks flushed. A quick touch confirmed a low-grade fever.

“Hey, man,” Zeth shook him again, a little harder, and was rewarded with two slivers of gray. “Didn’t think you went in for Rio’s killer protein shakes.”

“... dod’t.” The hoarse bass was two octaves deeper than usual, congested, sounding like his throat had been scraped by a rusty cheese grater.

“Good, ‘cause I think that would just about put the top on the party you’ve got goin’ on right now.”

“Mm,” another grunt, and an arm worked its way out from the covers to scrub tiredly at a swollen, sniffling nose.

"Rio cold cock you again?"

A single nod.

“Okay. I’m gonna take Rocky down for dialysis,” Zeth stood, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his low-slung cargo pants. “You want me to bring you something?”

“hehg’XTSHu! Ugh.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Edited January 8, 2022 by starpollen

[Sawyer]

You are SUCH an amazing writer. Your descriptions, your dialogue, your vocabulary, your plot and your characters are all just too perfect. I'm loving this pretty hard.

[ooo]

Mmmm, lovely sick boy. Your fics always get me so hooked on where you're going with them - I want to know moooore.

[LeapYearKisses]

This has the greatest science-fiction feel to it! I know it is science-fiction, but you really are evoking the genre well. And I'm so fond of the characters! Can't wait for more!

[Aprilcot]

I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOW!!!!!!!

Can I just say that personally, I hate every single battle possible, but am deeply intrested in learning the history, and you got the reactions, so well, it was unbelievable.

I hate the fact that they are effected like that, but it was so effective to have that in the piece, and I really wanted to say well done.

It's hilarious!!!!

and I think my favourite line is definitely "And if that hadn’t been enough, now the bastard had the fucking nerve to save his goddamned life."

HAHA!!!!!!

I love it!!!!

Please continue!!!!!!

[starpollen]

WARNING: more bad language. I'm not sure how much is "too much" and should go in the 18+ section for it... but none of this is gratuitous. It really is necessary to the characters and their situation. So... if you're easily offended by language you should probably skip this story entirely. And if I need to go through and put some symbols in the place of words, I can.

p.s. This part is very plotty. Lots of psychobabble. It had to happen, ya know?

-- -- --

SHARE THE LOVE:

@ Aprilcot - I am SO GLAD you like it. And glad you can find the humor in it. Almost like black comedy in certain parts, it takes a special person to appreciate it.

@ ooo - positive feedback from you just makes me go all gooey inside

@ Leap-Year Kisses - Thanks! I'm usually way more of a fantasy reader than sci-fi, but there are a few book and tv series I hold near and dear to my heart. I figured it wasn't a genre we see much in SF fics, so it would be something different to play with.

@ San Beret - wow, thank you. I really appreciate that.

@ queenie - thank you for that! I was a little worried at the beginning, whether people would 'get it,' whether I had managed to adequately convey what I saw in my head. And I like their names too...

-- -- --

Part 3

Rio rinsed his face, wishing like hell that the water from the tap was drinkable. His head was killing him, his tongue thick and foul, and his body was screaming for water.

What the fuck did I do last night?...

Stepping out into the hall, he saw Zeth coming toward him, shaking his head at Rio’s hungover expression with a smug grin. “You ready to seek the Cure, bro?”

“God yes,” Rio groaned, his own voice too loud in his pounding skull.

Z wrapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulders, getting him to the galley and plunking him down with Dev and Marc and a tall cup of black coffee before turning to leave.

“Where you goin’, man?” Dev asked around his chipmunk-stuffed cheeks, already on his second helping of lasagna.

“Mission of mercy,” came the enigmatic reply.

“Okay. Whatever,” Dev mumbled, brows raised. “So. Rio. Did I tell you about that sniper I took out...”

-- -- --

“Housekeeping.”

Z’s knock was lighter this time, a courtesy rather than an intrusion. But he still didn’t wait for a reply before entering, knowing he wasn’t going to walk in on anything.

With a couple of the other guys, maybe. Not Caliph. The man was choir-boy pristine.

“Hey, bro,” he propped the door open a crack so he could see, but kept the cabin light off. “Brought you provisions.”

The big blond huffed and shifted, turning his face toward the dark-skinned soldier as he lowered himself to Rio’s bunk. Caliph had been sleeping, mercifully numb to the beating his body had taken the day before. Now that he was awake, though, he felt the burn of soreness in his back, shoulders, and legs, and the sting of the various cuts as his clothes slid across his skin.

Rio would never know, but the soft sweats his mother sent them were among Caliph’s most cherished possessions. Unbidden, the woman’s pale, anxious face floated up in his mind.

“Hey,” Zeth called again, forcing Caliph back to the present. “You with me, man?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, shocked at the sound. That gunk in his throat had apparently dropped his already-deep voice another octave, adding a hoarse edge like he’d been chain-smoking in the rain. Even if tobacco products hadn’t been outlawed a hundred years ago, he wasn’t one to risk a dishonorable discharge for even a single smoke.

“You sure? You’re lookin’ a little unfocused there.”

Zeth. Right.

“Sorry,” he breathed, hauling himself upright with a muffled groan.

“So,” Z continued as if nothing was amiss. “Little table. Water. Mug of soup. Tissues,” he gestured to the new items he’d set next to Caliph’s bed. “Weapons of mass destruction for the common cold.”

“Huh?” the heels of his pale hands dug into his bleary eyes, massaging his aching sinuses at the same time.

A small pause.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not sick,” Zethren’s tone was low and chiding, but to Caliph it sounded dull, like he was listening underwater.

“Okay.”

Caliph was always so agreeable.

“Although for the life of me I don’t know how. Didn’t you get all your shots before lift-off like a good little mutt? Like the rest of us?” Z unscrewed the cap on a large bottle of water, holding it out with patient hands.

“No,” Caliph took the bottle and gulped it greedily, running a wrist under his nose with a dangerous sniff that looked like he was fighting a sneeze. “They said I was allergic.”

“Allergic?” Zeth raised his brows, as if not quite believing what he was hearing. “You’re allergic to the immunization against the common cold?”

Caliph’s brow wrinkled and he blinked, crinkling up his nose as he inhaled carefully. He stayed that way for a moment, mouth slightly open before blinking his eyes and shaking his head slightly. He sniffed wetly, bringing a fist up to knuckle his nostrils brutally.

Zeth just sighed, cracking open the box of tissues and pulling two out with one hand. Waiting.

The younger man paused briefly and looked up at the dark ceiling before finally bending over with a heavy, wrenching sneeze. “HEESZZtsCHHuu!”

“Bless you, man,” Z murmured, passing the tissues over so Caliph could mop up his suddenly dripping nose. “I would normally suggest a visit to sickbay when a guy comes down with something, but in your case they’ll probably just load you up with Vitamin C - which at this point will do jack squat since you’re already nice and sick - and send you back here to do exactly what you’re doing now. Sleeping.”

Caliph almost groaned; sleep sounded so good right now.

“But sleep alone isn’t going to do you a damned bit of good if you don’t keep your calories up and stay hydrated,” Z continued, holding out the mug of soup. “Down the hatch, bud.”

Caliph obeyed without question, as he’d done his whole life.

Z leaned back until his shoulders hit the cold wall, quietly observing his patient. Why he felt the urge - no, the compulsion - to take care of Rio’s shill, he had no fucking idea. By all rights it should be the brown-haired rich boy down here seeing to his golden protector’s every need, but the older soldier had figured out pretty quickly that these two didn’t fit the typical mold of shill-and-master. The other pair he’d met - the one who’d been irrevocably parted the day before - had been more like twins, bonded brothers. Soul mates. Nothing like these two. If Z didn’t know better, he’d almost think Rio harbored some inexplicable resentment toward the man whose sole purpose was to save the ungrateful bastard’s life.

Z didn’t understand it.

And to be honest, the whole idea of the shill bothered him. Deeply. That one man was born and bred and raised specifically to be a blood-and-bone shield for some other man whose family had money just galled him. For Rio to ignore his shill - especially when he was sick, especially when the man lived purely to ensure Rio would someday make it home in one piece - made Z want to carve the arrogant prick a new asshole.

“I’ll bring you more stuff later, ‘kay?” Z muttered, needing to get out of there before he did or said something he’d regret.

“‘Kay,” Caliph whispered, too blissed-out by the warm feel of soup on his raw throat to pay attention.

Zeth laid a hand briefly on the other man’s head, the heel of his hand brushing the too-warm brow. He’d try to track down an antipyretic if he could. Colds didn’t usually cause a fever, but there was always the chance of secondary infection in the ears, throat, or chest. So. He’d do what he could.

He couldn’t fight the whole goddamn system, but - hell yes - he would do what little he could for one unlucky bastard in this screwed-up, unholy mess of a war.

-- -- --

Rio, Marc, and Dev spent the afternoon bumming around the ship: an hour in the gym, another half-hour in the pool before heading to the top deck where the ship’s entertainment suite was located. While all soldiers had access to books, videos, and music, all Rio and his crew had ever been interested in were billiards and video games.

The afternoon was mostly normal. The only strange thing was that Zeth was M.I.A.

And when Caliph didn’t show at dinner, Rio was suddenly reminded of his shill’s strange behavior the night before.

“Okay. That’s about all of you asswipes I can take for one day,” he informed the others as he stood to take his tray. “M’gonna call it a night.”

“Don’t lie,” Dev challenged. “Your ass is still in a sling from Z’s home brew,” he tossed a wadded-up napkin across the table that bounced off Rio’s chest. “He makes it in his sweat socks, you know.”

“Yeah it tastes like it, too,” the brunet deadpanned. “My ass is fine. Just gotta give you rookies a coupla days to scrape together enough cash for me to clean you out properly. All I’d get off you sorry bastards tonight’d be a coupla bottle caps and ball of navel lint.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know my navel lint is worth big bucks,” Dev grinned. “Been declared a planetary treasure in 4 systems.”

“Yeah, that and your mama’s black book a’Johns.”

Rio ducked under the tray that came spinning toward his head, whistling as he made his way back to his cabin.

He called greetings to several guys he met on the way, but as he got closer he slowed, brow furrowing into a scowl. He could swear he heard voices coming from inside. The door was cracked, propped open a little with one of his own boots. Shoving the pocket door aside, he stood in the doorway, taking in the sight.

Zeth sat on Rio’s bunk, dark forearms resting on his thighs as he bent low near Caliph’s head. The big blond was propped up on one elbow, sipping something gingerly from a coffee mug.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” he flipped on the light, causing both men to squint and blink rapidly at the sudden glare. “Rise and shine and give daddy a kiss.” The whole scene took Rio a second or two to process: Z looking all protective, Caliph’s hair stuck up at all angles, tri-colored where bits were either pale-and-dry, dull blond-and-damp, or bronze-and-soaked. His eyelids looked swollen with sleep, his face pink. Frankly he looked a lot worse than he had only six hours ago. “Damn, Caliph,” Rio whistled. “You look like shit.”

His shill grunted, hauling his long frame up into a sitting position and handing the mug back to Zeth. That’s when Rio saw the tiny three legged stool that had appeared between their beds, an open bottle of water and a box of tissues on top. A small trash can sat on the floor next to it, half-full of crumpled white balls.

“Where’d you get all that?” Rio jerked his chin at the makeshift table.

“Zeth.”

That one word from his shill was croaked so deep Rio almost turned around to see if someone else had said it. But even that little bit proved too much, and Caliph launched into a harsh coughing fit. Forearms on his knees, chin on his chest, he coughed what had to be half his guts toward the floor.

Z picked up the bottle of water, holding it ready for when the shill caught his breath.

“What’s wrong with him?” Rio asked Zeth, still standing in the doorway as if afraid to come in.

“Just a cold,” Zeth mumbled, disgust lining his black-brown eyes as he glanced at the brunet. He stood, took two steps forward and fisted Rio’s shirt, backing him out into the hall. “Let’s you and I take a walk.”

-- -- --

Z dragged, pushed, and prodded, ignoring Rio’s protests until finally shoving the smaller man into an empty cargo hold, and by this point Rio’s hands were balled into fists ready to take a swing at the older soldier.

“What the fuck, man!?” Rio’s eyes narrowed as Z’s dark finger pointed right between them.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Riordan,” Zeth’s baritone was low and hard. Rio blinked: the fact that Zeth never used his full name definitely got his attention. “We’ve been on this ship a year and I’ve watched you cock up every chance for citation or promotion, drink and piss away your free time. Just sliding along by the skin of your teeth until your service is up or you die, whichever comes first. And I don’t really give a shit. You’re not any different from 90% of the boys who pass through this place. With one distinct exception.”

“Oh yeah?” Rio was starting to get nervous, his palms sweaty like they used to get when his father would call him on the carpet for punishment. “And what’s that?”

“Caliph.”

Amber eyes blinked again, and abruptly shuttered. “What about him?” his jaw tightened reflexively, like it did every time someone brought his shill to his attention.

“That man,” Z pointed behind him to the door. “Does not deserve your shit. It’s not his fault he’s attached to your hip. He had no say in--”

“Oh what the fuck do you know?” Rio shot back, lashing out and shoving Z’s chest to push him back a few inches. “You ever had a shill? You know what it’s like not to be able to take a fuckin’ piss without someone standing at your back?”

“That’s not the point.”

“The hell it isn’t. My shill is none of your business, Zethren. So butt the fuck out.”

“Man, if you would get your head outta your ass for one second--”

“I’m warning you, Z...”

“And I’m warning you, Rio. You treat that man like he’s an insult to your very existence. You saw that shill get gutted yesterday. How’re you gonna feel when it’s Caliph lying there with half his insides hanging out--”

“SHUT UP!” Rio took a swing then, which Zeth easily dodged, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and shoving him to the floor.

“He’s a man, Rio,” Z continued, not even out of breath. “A goddamned good soldier. Not your slave, not a fucking object you can shove to the side like the shaving kit in your footlocker, only good for something when you need it...”

“You have NO IDEA what you’re talking about!” Rio kept shouting, struggling to get 200+ pounds of muscled warrior off of him. “No goddamned fucking clue, you self-righteous prick!”

“Rio--”

“YOU DON’T!” Riordan roared, finally shoving Zeth off and scrambling to his feet. “You have NO FUCKING IDEA what it’s like living 10 years knowing all it takes is one shot, one stab, one slip and somebody is gonna die instead of you. That you’ll cheat death because somebody bought you a ‘get out of jail free’ card with another man’s life. How’d you feel, carrying that around, huh? How’d you like to look in his goddamned face every goddamned day knowing that?”

Zethren stared, mouth open a little, as Riordan turned and savagely kicked an empty crate. “Rio, I didn’t--”

“Every one of you guys - Dev, Marc, even you Z - you know you might die down there,” Rio kept going, pacing frantically as he worked through his rage. “On some nasty-ass alien planet without ever seeing your family again. You also know that you’ll watch buddies get killed, might even make the choice to step in front of a bayonet for one of them. But if you do it’ll be your choice, because you fuckin’ love whatever rat bastard you do that for. He has no fuckin’ choice!”

Z knew that, deep down, knew that Caliph had no choice other than to be what he was. And that was part of his whole problem with this screwed-up system. Caliph didn’t have a choice: if his master died in battle and he lived - unless there was massive and irrefutable evidence that the shill hadn’t been able to save him at any cost - he’d be sold as a slave to one of the lesser races in the Treaty, to work the mines or as a whipping boy in some drug-lord’s house, a fate much worse than death. Most shills took their own life rather than let that happen.

No, for a shill the only two choices were to keep his master alive in the hopes that the grateful family would grant him freedom when both men were discharged on their 30th birthdays... or die with-or-instead-of the man he was tied to.

“You wanna feel all sorry for him?” Rio finished, a note of anguish in his voice that Z had never heard before. “Fine. Be my guest. Go play nursemaid to your heart’s content, Florence. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna get my heart ripped out like that poor bastard yesterday.”

Z remembered the look on the young master’s face as his shill died in his arms. For some reason, Rio and Caliph hadn’t bonded like normal pairings, and Z still didn’t understand how that was possible. The two of them were supposed to have been together since they were toddlers. How Riordan could keep his shill at a distance was a total fuckin' mystery.

But one thing was obvious now: Rio’s feelings for his shill were... complicated. Gratitude, resentment, admiration... and guilt. Crushing, suffocating, soul-rending guilt.

Rio went to stalk past, but Zeth grabbed his arm, suddenly understanding. Rio was afraid. Afraid to care so much about a man that was condemned to die - to die in Rio’s place, no less - and leave him to live alone with that guilt dragging him down for the rest of his life.

“Okay, man,” the dark-skinned soldier murmured, low and soothing. “Okay, I get it. I do. And I won’t butt in again. But there’s one last thing I wanna say, and then you’ll never hear another word, alright?”

“Fine,” Rio wouldn’t meet his gaze, slumped and sullen in the older man’s grasp. “Whatever. Just get it over with.”

“Okay. Here it is... You’re right. You are. About a lot of things. All of us know our ticket might get punched down there, without warning. One second we’ll be standing there, the next pouring our guts out into the dirt. But you, me, Dev, Marc... we’ve got family who’ll mourn us when we’re gone, who’ll remember us and our sacrifice and honor us for that. And we’ll remember each other. We’ll remember all the good times we had together, and that will be an honor in itself.” He tightened his grip. “But Rio... who’s gonna remember Caliph? You will. What will you remember? How you pushed him away, shut yourself off from him so he dies even more alone than the rest of us god-forsaken bastards?”

Rio tried to pull his arm back, sucking in a harsh breath. But Z held fast.

“You know he’ll step in front of fire for you. He’ll do it for any of us, but most especially for you. And not because he’s been bought, either. It won’t be because he feels he has to, he just will. It’s who he is. And you’re right, there’s nothing you can do to repay him for that. Not once he’s gone. But you can now. While he’s here. You can repay him every damned day, honoring his fucking life, the one he didn’t ask for. Then maybe you won’t feel like such a shitheel when that terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad goddamned day finally comes.”

A beat of silence.

“You done?”

“Yeah,” Z pulled back his hand. “I’m done.”

“Good.” And Rio stalked out, leaving Z with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at the floor.

-- -- --

Caliph dragged himself up for the fourth time today, feeling the aching pull of muscles that had stiffened up from too much laying down. Zeth had plied him with bottle after bottle of water and several mugs of soup and tea, to “flush the bugs out of his system,” as the older man had put it. And now Caliph needed to drain, shuffling down the hall to the Head.

The big blond appreciated the attention the older man had lavished on him, but honestly didn’t know what to do with it. Nobody ever took care of him before.

Not that he was sick that often. The last time had been when he and Rio had gotten a stomach flu at the Academy and spent two days throwing up. Half the squad had come down with it so they all hunkered down in the infirmary hugging plastic basins and sipping soapy rehydrate. With over twenty guys to take care of, the medic had been run ragged. Caliph remembered the man’s calloused hand on his head a couple of times, and once being supported by a strong arm and coaxed to sip ice water through a straw.

Z had never stayed long, maybe twenty minutes to a half-hour. But he’d come back again and again to make sure Caliph had enough fluids and tissues. Even managed to smuggle a couple of pills that had knocked the aches back for a few hours.

Then the dark-skinned man had dragged Rio out of the cabin, looking pretty pissed. But that was nothing new: Rio pissed everyone off at one time or another.

Caliph took care of business and chanced a glance at himself in the mirror. His space-pale cheeks were lightly flushed, his gray eyes dull and dark-ringed with exhaustion. His hair looked like it had that one time when a twelve-year-old Rio had taken scissors to it in his sleep. Caliph grunted, still feeling the thick coating in his throat, and gave a couple of dry coughs.

In the middle of washing his hands, he felt the twinge of an oncoming sneeze. Huffing, he glanced to either side of the sink, looking for something he could use as cover. As the afternoon had progressed, his sneezes had gotten heavier, as if his body was trying to eject all the bugs in his system straight out through his nostrils.

“uuh....hheh!...” No tissues, and all the Heads onboard had air dryers, both for hands and southern regions. Caliph struggled to hold back, at least until he could get his hands free... “ihh-hihh! ahh!... hhh!!...” Dammit. It was no use. He was going to... going to... “hegh- EhHKTSSChuuh!” It sprayed like a geyser, misting his arm as he tried to aim it at the floor.

He groaned, feeling a warm trickle on his upper lip, sniffling like mad as he rushed to finish washing up.

Jerking the door open, he tilted his head back, still sniffling, trying to keep the trickle from becoming a flood. But the trickle was irritating his cold-ridden passages, each sniffle fanning the twinge into a crawling, maddening feathery tickle...

“Huhn...” his shoulders quivered with the shivery exhalation, and he sucked in a breath and held it as he blindly stumbled back towards the cabin. He would not sneeze... he would not sneeze... he would not...

“uuh . . .NNKGIHHSHHshahh!" Goddammit.

He managed to clap one hand over his nose and mouth as his body snapped in half, feeling warm moisture leaking out to pool in the creases of his palm. That one was ripped from him so savagely it made his eyes water. Fuck...

He stood frozen in the hall, blind, bent with his face to the floor cupping his hand to his dripping face, panting as he struggled to catch his breath.

Suddenly, a warm hand was on his back. Caliph gasped his surprise, pulling himself more upright as he blinked through bleary eyes to see who had caught him being pathetic and disgusting. But before he could focus his blurry vision, a handful of tissues suddenly slipped between his palm and his face, someone else’s fingers closing around his damp nostrils.

“Blow.”

Caliph had never disobeyed a command in his life, subservience deeply-ingrained in his DNA. An irrefutable part of his programming.

So he blew, both grateful for and mortified by the unexpected assistance.

The hand closed the tissues and turned them, wrapping his nose in the dry portion as the soft voice once more issued a command, “Again.”

He did, the sound much lighter this time. More airy. The firm hand was still resting on his back, and now he was aware of the warm proximity of another body standing close to his own. He gave a light shiver, longing for the warmth of his undersized bed. The hand at his nose closed again, gently wiping his nostrils and upper lip before tucking the used tissues into Caliph’s moist palm.

That’s when the blond was finally able to lift his head and take a look at his savior. He breathed a shocked exhale, dragging out the name of the last person he expected to see.

“Rio??”

The brunet stood with an arm around his shill’s back, that same somber expression from the shuttle darkening his amber eyes. Serious. Unreadable.

“Come on,” the smaller man’s hand put pressure on Caliph’s back, almost gently, urging him forward. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Edited January 9, 2022 by starpollen

[BlueRandom]

This is awesome. Your writing style is so intriguing, and I love where you seem to be going with this. The characters are perfect; the idea is really interesting and well written. Love love love. And did I mention it's insanely hot?

So incredible!

[Tess]

Oh my god, I love it!! And you update so quickly

They are soooo adorable, I KNEW Rio had a soft side

Now I'm just waiting for the part

[ooo]

Awww, I love Zeth! And I like the new development at the end of this part. Yay!

Caliph had never disobeyed a command in his life, subservience deeply-ingrained in his DNA. An irrefutable part of his programming.

So he blew, both grateful for and mortified by the unexpected assistance.

Also, loved this, just for one of the rare times the "blowing into someone else's hand" thing has been totally believable for me. (I mean it's always awesome in fic. But this time I just felt like, yeah, that could totally happen...I don't make sense, sorry. Bedtime for me.)

Your sneeze spellings continue to kill me.

[27jj]

I just started reading this story tonight and I was absolutely engrossed by it. It’s such a great story, and obviously, I love the sneezes:)

I loved the part when Rio turns around and starts to care for Caliph.

Even without the character being sick, the story is amazing. I love your writing, and your characters are awesome. Caliph is especially adorable:) Can’t wait to read the next part!

[meepsy]

ohhh...

such intricate writing, such a supremely delicious cold, m/m, and scifi too?

you spoil us! (please don't stop though!)

[Aprilcot]

Of course I can find the humour in it!!!

I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Nobody ever took care of him before." I love and hate that line at the same time!!!! The mark of a true genious.

Dark comedy! My favourite!!!

HAHA!!!!

This story is like my pet dream!! I love bad boys, Alexandra Burke never spoke so much truth! LOL

And I adore Z, he's my new favourite....

But also, Shy boys are just sooo cute!!!

I love Caliph!

Please continue!!!!!

[starpollen]

I'm gonna get back to battles in a bit... and OMG you guys will totally flip... (I've written up through part 7 today - I was on a roll!) I just wanted to take a little time to indulge my inner caretaking-whore for a couple of parts. Hope you don't mind!...

WARNING: still bad language. Same characters: it's just the way they talk.

Part 4

Caliph shuffled back to their cabin and eased himself gingerly onto the edge of his bunk, glancing furtively at Rio’s rugged features. The younger soldier was naturally a little more tan, golden and dusky-hued that even a year in space couldn’t leech away. There was a tiny dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks that could only be seen up close, the way they’d been when Caliph had hauled him behind the rocks just after the incident with the alien and his glimmering knife.

Rio’s shocked, golden eyes and that dusting of freckles across bronzed cheeks lingered in Caliph’s thoughts, the way the smaller man had leaned ever-so-briefly into Caliph’s hands... before pulling himself together and charging back into the battle.

“You need some more water?” Rio murmured, lifting the bottle on the makeshift nightstand and giving it a little shake; there was a little less than half left. “I’ll get some more from the mess.” He almost seemed to be talking to himself as he puttered nervously around their small cabin.

The blond was almost ashamed to admit that he was highly suspicious of Rio’s sudden attention: his companion had gone through a phase when he was ten or so when he pretended to be nice to Caliph and then turned around and did something nasty. Like the time the boys were supposed to weed the back edge of the yard by the fence as punishment for something Riordan had done, and Rio had offered Caliph his gloves... with poison ivy stuffed in the fingers.

“You hungry?” Rio muttered vaguely, picking up and setting down the empty soup mug.

Caliph blinked, trying to focus. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and his throat felt thicker, like the coating was building up and making the passage smaller. He cleared it, but the vibration made his nose tingle.

“Hh-eeh! ...” he fumbled for the tissues, lids fluttering as the pressure built. He knocked the box over in his haste, but before he could lift his elbow for cover a wad of paper was pressed into his hand, and he was simply too desperate to question it. He jerked them to his face just in time. “... hsz'NGxSSHHiuu! Heh??...” another one came hard on its heels. “--EKkgNTshuuhh!” He sighed in relief as the pressure eased.

Rio watched the display, feeling a curious kind of flutter in his gut that he couldn’t explain. Caliph was always so... competent. So ass-achingly perfect. Rio couldn’t remember the bigger man ever falling in the mud during drills, or collapsing before the end count of push-ups, or missing a single target. To see him like this... reduced. Lesser. Needing...

The blond gave a couple of light coughs, shoulders slumping wearily.

Riordan’s hand took on a life of its own, reaching out and ghosting briefly over the too-warm brow. Caliph wasn’t even aware when he leaned slightly into the cool touch.

But that tiny movement snapped the brunet out of his trance. “Are you supposed to be this warm?” Rio muttered gruffly, jerking back. But his hand hovered between them, a tentative gesture he couldn’t explain. He’d touched Caliph occasionally over the years, usually with a far different set of intentions. The light touch to the salty sweat-slick skin had been... strange. It fanned that fluttering feeling, sending a warmth swirling low in his gut.

The shill wavered for a moment before regaining his balance, giving Rio a vague one-shoulder shrug without even opening his aching eyes. Then he coughed, deep in his throat and with a slight hitch that sounded like some of the congestion in his nose was making its way south. But it passed quickly, and he gulped a few more swallows of water before turning and curling back up on the bunk, the wad of tissues still clutched in his fist. He pinched some of the glistening fluid away from his pink-rimmed nostrils and sniffled thickly, heaving a sigh as his muscles relaxed into the mattress. By bending his knees, Caliph’s feet just barely made it onto the end of the bed. It didn’t look very comfortable.

Rio was pretty sure something possessed his body when he reached for Caliph’s blankets, working them out from under his shill’s long legs and pulling them up to his chest. His hand rested on the muscled bicep just a little too long, fingertips tingling from the hard heat.

“I’m gonna get some more water,” he found himself saying to the blond’s wide back. “And, uh...” he ran a hand through his short hair, mumbling “M’gonna check on that... Lieutenant thing...”

Now Caliph did turn to squint at Rio over his shoulder. In ten years the younger man had never cared about any of the citations or promotions they’d received. Ever.

“Ubh... ok?...” he rasped, one light brow raised.

But the brunet was already gone.

-- -- --

Rio didn’t know what to do. And he hated that feeling.

While the brass confirmed that he would be receiving a commendation and promotion for Caliph’s actions in the battle yesterday, they couldn’t tell him when they’d be receiving new quarters. He knew from being in Zeth’s Lieutenant’s cabin that not only was everything about a foot bigger - beds, floor, ceiling - but it also had individual temperature controls and drinkable tap. Things he wanted for Caliph, now.

And that was something else he didn’t know what to do with. The last thing he wanted to admit was that Z’s words had gotten to him.

But they’d gotten to him.

He’d spent the entire walk back to his cabin brooding - actually arguing with himself trying to refute all of Z’s arguments - not even realizing he was headed toward the cabin until he’d come down the stairs, just in time to see the big blond exit the Head. Caliph had shuffled blindly towards their door, pale face tilted up towards the halogen lights, blinking and contorting while valiantly fighting a massive sneeze.

Then... he’d lost. The wrenchingly wet eruption had shivered through the taller man from head to toe, leaving him bent over and panting from the assault, and Rio had felt an answering rush of heat tingle over the surface of his skin.

Discovering something that Caliph couldn’t fight? Something that honest-to-God kicked his saintly ass six ways from Sunday?

Rio nearly drooled.

He’d shoved that feeling aside when schizophrenia kicked in, and someone he’d never been had ducked into their cabin for a wad of tissues. That stranger had proceeded to brace his shill’s sculpted back with one hand while ordering the sick man to give in to a much-needed, juicy blow. Caliph’s big, hard body had clenched under Rio’s fingers, and suddenly the rich boy found himself wondering what it would feel like to have the blond warrior shuddering against him... under him...

And THAT thought had really fucked him over.

What the hell was happening to him?? How the fuck did he go from barely standing the sight of the man to suddenly taking gentle care of him and fantasizing about... that?? All because Z’s words had flicked some guilt-ridden switch in his under-developed conscience? Because the sight of a fire-winged angel hovered at the back of his retinas, burned into his soul for all eternity reminding him of the debt he would never be able to repay?

Or because for once in their ass-fucked lives he - Rio - was the strong one, the one holding things together, the one Caliph needed to take care of him, for a change.

It felt... good.

Rio had ushered Caliph into their cabin, suddenly noticing how small the bunks were, how cold it was. And how quickly Caliph had gone through the water Z had brought earlier. He must be thirsty...

“You need some more water?...” he’d mumbled absently, taking mental inventory. More water, maybe more soup... he hasn’t eaten much the last couple of days... “You hungry?....”

Rio didn’t know much about illness, not having encountered it much in his 20 years of existence. But he wondered whether the ship’s doctor might have something to relieve the big man’s discomfort, wondered whether there was a reason Zeth hadn’t bothered to get medicine from sickbay already.

Hell, Rio didn’t even really know exactly what ‘a cold’ was in the first place.

He had a vague recollection from their biology classes at the Academy: that it used to be an epidemically common illness on Old Earth, that it wasn’t serious, and that it was caused by a virus. Which meant in order to treat it a lab had to isolate the exact strain of the pathogen before developing the appropriate antiviral medication, a process that now took about 3 days. But Rio wasn’t sure it was worth it at this point to make Caliph go through all the poking and prodding and time undergoing tests in the blinding, frigid infirmary when he could rest more easily here.

By the time he’d stalked to the galley - snatching three bottles of water and a packet of instant soup from under the cook’s distracted nose - and made his way back to the cabin, it was almost 2100 hours.

Just 16 hours since their return from the battle. But it seemed so much farther away, now. As if years of events had squished themselves into each brief minute.

This time, he opened the cabin door as quietly as he could, turning on his bunk-lamp and tossing a dirty T-shirt over it to keep the room dim. Caliph had been squinting earlier in the bright light and pressing a palm to his head as if it ached.

Thankfully, his careful movements kept the blond asleep, though his breathing rasped in the small space and Rio could smell the fever-sweat. Not knowing what else to do, Riordan placed his provisions on the stool and leaned back on his bunk with his legs stretched out, a PADD in his hands - the universal electronic Personal Application & Data Device - voluntarily reading a book for the first time in at least six years.

The minutes passed.

Suddenly, the blond’s raspy breathing hitched, once... twice...

“Hh’EgKTSHuu!” Caliph’s body convulsed with a light, wet sneeze, knees curling up toward his chin. Surprisingly, he didn’t wake. “...iih . . .! Hk-TSSssch!”

Rio turned his head, intently observing his shill. Caliph stayed on his side, his back to the wall, a few locks of his golden hair flopped over his closed eyes from the force of the sneezing. But his eyes stayed closed, face lax in sleep. The lamp’s dim light caused the heavy moisture that had been ejected from his irritated nostrils to glimmer faintly on his pale upper lip, his dusky-rose lips parted to breathe.

Moving with silent stealth, the brunet swiveled to set his feet gently on the deck, leaning his forearm on his knee as he slowly pulled a fresh tissue from the box. The soft whisper of paper sliding free was barely audible over his shill’s heavy breaths. Rio’s face pinched in concentration as he tentatively reached out and brushed the tissue under Caliph’s damp nose, keeping his touch as light as possible so as not to wake him.

But it immediately became evident that his touch had been too light, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of Caliph's chapped nose, his light brows drawing together as he hitched a light chuff of breath. Rio drew back, waiting to see if those dove-grey eyes would open, or if he would settle back to sleep.

Unfortunately for them both, Caliph did neither.

A sharp, shaky inhale was sucked through those parted lips, golden brows raising a little as his pinkened nostrils twitched. Rio stared - fascinated - as it slowly gathered strength, Caliph’s moist lower lip quivering as it dropped helplessly, his chest expanding in another hitching inhale... But then he relaxed, sniffled, and sighed.

Rio sighed, too, relieved that he hadn’t woken.

But not even a second later, Caliph’s upper lip curled as he scrunched his nose, clearly irritated, but still asleep. He sucked few unsteady breaths - “...hegghh... haihh... heh!-heh-heh!... ihHH!...” - the sneeze returning in full...

But once again it went away, and Caliph relaxed into the pillow, wriggling his nose with a frustrated huff and turning onto his back.

Another trickle had begun to seep onto the blond’s upper lip, and Rio waited several seconds to make sure Caliph really was asleep before once more attempting to wipe it away.

But the instant the edge of the tissue lightly brushed the delicate rims of Caliph’s nostrils, the sneeze slammed back, making them flair wildly. "Hehh!... hiaghh!?..." the big man began hitching desperately, the sneeze building, growing, teasing... causing a single, irritated tear to slip down one pale, stubbled cheek...

As Caliph’s face contorted, Rio’s stunned fingers accidentally poked the corner of the tissue up inside one of the agonized nostrils, sending the blond over the edge.

“h’GHkkgsshht! ...” Caliph’s back arched up off the mattress, the accumulated congestion evident in the heavy sneeze that erupted as his cold-ridden sinuses - full-to-bursting - were resolutely determined to blast it free. “Hehh?? ... NnkKTCH-shuh!-Hh’ISSHuh! . . . hh’NGghtschuuh!”

Now he did wake. The blond ended up sitting with his head over his upright knees, blinking blearily as he struggled with the after-effects of the torturously messy sneezes and just waking from a sound sleep.

He was also sniffling, thickly. Constantly. Uncomfortably.

Rio scowled, suddenly and irrationally angry again, jerking several tissues from the box. “Blow your damned nose already,” he grumbled, shoving the paper into Caliph’s lax palm before throwing himself down to his bunk, face to the wall, peering intently at his PADD.

Caliph complied, a long, productive blow that made Rio inexplicably hot and flushed, “You’re readig?” the sick man rasped when he was done, more than a little surprised.

“Yeah, I. Can. Read,” Rio snapped. “You got a problem with it?”

“Doh.”

A short silence. Then...

Sniffle. Sigh. Shift.

Cough.

Sniffle. Sigh. More coughs. Grating. Painful.

Rio groaned, passing a palm over his face. “How the hell did you get this sick in the first place??” he barked, throwing down the PADD and turning to glare at his shill. “We got shots, like, a year ago, man.” If it had been one of the other guys he would have thought he was being played, either as a prank or a way to get out of some task they’d lost at the card table. But Caliph never joked. And Rio was pretty sure a body couldn’t fake coughs like that.

“Doh,” Caliph croaked when he could, finishing off the rest of the water with a congested sniff that moved absolutely nothing at all. “Allergic.”

“Allergic??” Rio retorted, pushing off his bunk to stalk to two steps it took to reach the door. His shill had been allergic to the shots? And nobody had told him?... “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The blond just shrugged, picking up the mug and glancing down into it, but it was empty so he set it back on the stool with another long, slurpy sniffle. He really was starting to feel like shit, more parts of him hurting than not - muscles, throat, head, chest - too exhausted to sleep, too congested to breathe... Hot. And cold at the same time. Miserable.

“God, Caliph, only you, ya know that?” Rio mumbled, almost to himself, his irrational anger slowly gaining strength. “Can’t ever do things the easy way, can’t simply cheat a virus like the rest of us. Noooo, super-soldier’s gotta go whole hog and grapple with the thing head-on!...”

Caliph’s big hand slowly pulled two tissues from the box during Rio’s tirade, laying one over the other on his knee and then methodically folded both in half to make four layers. The younger man turned, his gold eyes watching - fascinated - as Caliph stretched his creation between both hands and held it down by his knees. Flicking a glance up to his shill’s face, Rio trailed off to silence as the heavy-lidded grey eyes slowly slipped to half-mast, mauve lips parting, the tip of a tongue hovering just above his bottom teeth. One nostril twitched, a muscle in the chiseled cheek responding with a subtle tic. Then the upper lip curled away from his teeth ever-so-slowly on one side, his long lashes fluttering as his round nostrils flared wide, breath hitching once... twice...

““Uuh . . .hehhII’MBSSHuu!” Pale face snapped down and big hands came up to meet in the middle, effectively containing the wet sneeze in the thick tissues. The man’s brows had crashed together with the force of the explosion, and stayed knotted as his shoulders heaved with a second ragged “--hiih! Hkk-GXEESCHU! . . .uuhn... huhh...” and a final, congested “...hsz'GnXSSHHtt! -ahh.”

Rio blinked.

Caliph cracked open one bleary eye, one hand keeping the soaked tissues firmly tucked under his nose as he reached for the box with the other. Snatching three squares, he layered them again over his knee. One hand pinched the used set and dragged them down the sides of his swollen nose, dropping them to the floor and leaving the nostrils tinged distinctly pink in its wake. The other hand cupped the fresh, bringing them up to press lightly to his upper lip until both hands were free for a bubbling, productive blow.

“You need to go to sickbay, man.”

“Doh,” Caliph shook his head, his storm-cloud eyes shining over the white swath with a glimmer that Rio had never seen before. It almost looked like... fear... “Doh, I dod’t. I jusd deed to sleeb. I’ll be fide--”

“Okay, okay,” Rio replied, holding out his hands. “Chill, dude.” Carding his fingers nervously through his short hair, he gave a rough sigh, sure it was sticking up almost as bad as the sick man’s with all the agitated attention. “No sickbay. For now,” he made sure to stipulate, a vague idea forming in his head. “God, who would ever guess by looking that a behemoth like you was such a pussy...”

Caliph relaxed significantly, his eyes rolling closed as he laid back with a rumbling sigh.

“Here,” Rio grunted, cracking open another water bottle and setting it down hard on the little stool. “Drink up. I’ll be back later.”

Edited January 9, 2022 by starpollen

[meepsy]

oh, sweet lord, what...an...update...

I'm so glad I was snooping around when you posted!

oh, Caliph...so delectably miserable <<Can I have him? Pleeeeaaase?>>

this is my favorite story on the forum right now by far, and there's going to be moooore!?!?

:swoons, revives, goes back to read again:

[everest]

Yeah, you're amazing. This story is ridiculously good.

I so wish I could write like you!

[starpollen]

One more short sappy part... then back to the action!...

Part 5

“It really hurts,” Corporal Riordan managed to look both pathetic and stoic at the same time, swallowing noticeably as sat on the exam table in the infirmary. “I slept with my mouth open all night because I was so stuffed up. It went away this morning, but I’m still feeling tired and my muscles ache...”

“Well, Corporal,” Dr. Zhao flipped the chart closed, his small eyes raking over the young man perched on the exam table. “Your temperature is slightly elevated, and while my scans don’t indicate the presence of any pathogen, the description of your symptoms is consistent with a couple of common ailments we see among soldiers just after their first planetary exposure.” The small man adjusted the stethoscope around his neck, a gesture that seemed more habitual than functional. “Stress can cause the aches, the temperature and a sore throat, and perhaps you were exposed briefly to some allergen on the surface - some alien plant or animal life - that might have triggered the congestion.”

“Y-yeah,” Rio nodded, eyes wide in his ‘innocent’ expression, strengthening the con. “I thought I noticed something when we were down there, but you know... with the battle and everything... it kinda wasn’t on my radar.”

The doctor turned to the counter, opening the cabinet.

“I can imagine,” Zhao agreed, squinting at several medications and pursing his lips. “I can give you... some analgesic lozenges for your throat,” he lifted a box and set it on the counter. “Some decongestants to be taken at night,” another box. “Only at night: they will make you drowsy. And just regular aspirin for the aches. It will also bring your temperature back to normal. Although...” he closed the cabinet and fixed the young man with a professional stare. “I expect these things to resolve themselves within a day or two. In my experience, this kind of physical reaction is fleeting. And I would not anticipate it to return following your next ground mission.”

“Thanks, doc,” Rio smiled wide and added a relieved sigh for effect, holding out his hand and giving the man a grateful shake. “I appreciate it. I almost didn’t come, didn’t want the brass to think I wasn’t up to snuff...” He ducked his head sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, Corporal,” Dr. Zhao’s eyes glittered kindly. “Unless a condition would compromise you or your squad on a mission, your medical records are confidential. Your unit is still on R&R for another 48 hours, and I’m sure by the time you’re active again you’ll be 100%.”

“Good,” Rio pocketed the medicine, hopping off the table and fixing the older man with an honest, appreciative gaze. “That helps a lot. Again, doc, thanks.”

-- -- --

The ship was once more eerily silent, floating in the vastness of space about five light years from the contested planet. A temporary cease-fire between races, both sides regrouping before beginning the next assault. It was just after midnight, with most of the men passed out in their bunks.

Caliph drifted in and out of sleep as his body constantly reminded him of its discomfort. He’d doze for an hour, wake either sweating or shivering, only to cough and sneeze repeatedly before finally sinking back for another exhausted attempt. He was on the last bottle of water, his throat so raw that even breathing through it hurt. He had gotten hungry earlier, but mixing the instant soup packet with half a water bottle had failed miserably: apparently the water needed to be hot for the powder to properly dissolve.

And now the mere thought of eating or drinking anything made him feel disturbingly similar to when he’d had that stomach flu several years ago: like the bunk was rocking underneath him, his skin clammy and tight.

It was during one of those coughing-sneezing-shivering episodes that Riordan came back, and Caliph instinctively tensed. When the brunet stumbled home this late he was usually drunk, and a drunk Rio loved poking, prodding, and generally annoying the hell out of his shill. And the blond just wasn’t up to it right now.

But the younger man moved smoothly, careful and silent, not looking to be under the influence of anything at all.

“Hey,” Rio called softly, once more turning on his bunk lamp with the shirt still draped over it, washing the room in a muted glow and keeping his body between it and Caliph's pale face. “You hangin’ in there?”

“Nn’EHHGhtsh!” Caliph sneezed in response, snatching a tissue from the box and burying his nose in its folds before the second drawn-out, “HAAEEGGSSCHhuu!” that scraped up his throat.

“That sounds like a no.”

The big warrior shivered hard, teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, and just grunted a reply. He watched warily as Rio knelt between their beds, amber eyes sweeping over him from head to toe.

The smaller man’s hand lifted, and Caliph couldn’t help it: he flinched.

Rio froze.

He’d only intended to check Caliph’s temperature. Instead, he slowly lowered his hand to his knee, brows furrowed.

“I brought you some stuff,” the brunet kept his voice low, an awful pit opening in his stomach to see Caliph’s glazed eyes so guarded. Man, I really fucked this up, didn’t I?... “From the infirmary. Sore throat stuff, aspirin, decongestant... some more water...”

“Water?” the ruined voice cracked, making them both wince. Caliph pulled back against the wall, slowly hauling himself upright. His blankets stayed fisted at his chest, arms crossed as he dropped his chin and coughed.

Rio turned, pulling the small bag from where he’d dropped it on the end of his bunk. He’d grabbed several bottles of water, actually, still ice-cold and slick with condensation. He cracked the cap on one and held it out.

But though the blond licked his parched lips longingly, he didn’t take it.

“Caliph.” Rio waited until glazed grey eyes met somber gold. “It’s just water,” he murmured, willing his intentions to show in his eyes, for his shill to trust him. “I promise. I’m not gonna fuck with you when you’re sick.”

Just a heartbeat of hesitation, then the large hand emerged from the blankets. Caliph’s cold fingers brushed Rio’s warm ones as the bottle changed hands, and this time it was the brunet that flinched. Watching the corded throat work as Caliph swallowed, gulping the whole bottle in seconds, Rio couldn’t blink. Found himself holding his breath.

“Thanks,” came the hoarse sigh when it was empty, heavy head falling back against the wall.

“Um,” Rio cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “Th-there’s more... You should, uh, have some of this... stuff...” he fumbled with the packages, managing to get the decongestant out without incident, but the cap on the aspirin was his undoing. One careless rip and the pills exploded in a shower all over the floor. “Fuck!...” he hissed.

Caliph’s wheezing chuckle went through Rio like a knife, his head snapping up to the pale face. The weary smile on the handsome face twisted something in Rio's chest, bringing a strange ache that spread until his breath grew tight. Before he knew it, he found himself grinning back, suddenly aware of how dumb he must look.

But the chuckles quickly turned into hoarse coughs, and Rio’s grin faded. He passed over a second water with steady hands, followed by the two sets of pills when Caliph had caught his breath.

"Where'd you get this stuff?" Caliph asked in a careful whisper, raising the bottle to his cracked lips.

“Infirmary, like I said." Rio replied, his pupils slightly dilated, barely blinking, eyes fixed on the bob of his Adam's apple as the blond swallowed. This bottle didn’t last much longer than the first, and that’s when Rio noticed the dark rim of sweat at Caliph’s hairline, on the neckline of his shirt. "I’m gonna check your temperature, okay?” he warned, easing up to sit on the edge of Caliph’s bunk. Caliph tracked the movement of Rio’s tan hand, but this time his only reaction when the cool palm made contact was to close his eyes. Rio’s frown deepened. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. The blond’s skin was scalding.

The ever-present tingle in Caliph’s packed sinuses chose that moment to flare into a slow sneeze, one side of his upper lip flinching up in little tics as it built. Rio either didn’t notice or didn’t care, his hand staying on the sweaty forehead, keeping Caliph from leaning down for a fresh tissue. He tried to hold his breath, to stall.

It didn’t work.

“Iih’GgkTSCHu!”

The first one echoed deeply from the close walls, heavy, congested and absolutely miserable. Rio’s hand ended up bracing Caliph as his head jerked forward, his other arm snaking around the big man’s waist and pulling him against his side.

Caliph couldn’t pull away, could barely manage to drag in a stuttering gasp before another sneeze wrenched him double, “Hh’MPHgxkt!” making his eyes water. He was trying to hold back with Rio so close, but it brought him absolutely no relief. In fact, it just made him need to sneeze more. ““hhh... h'NGhxt!... --hhg-’SZNSSCHtt!” The blond barely managed to clap a hand over his nose in time for the nasal sneeze, flushing hotly as he felt the thick discharge coating his upper lip. And damned if he still wasn’t done... “Heeh . . .EKG--ZTSSCHUuh!”

Rio removed his hand from Caliph’s brow, but kept his other arm around the sagging man as he leaned and plucked the tissue box from the stool.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling several and laying them across his own leg like he’d seen the blond do earlier. Folding until he had a nice thick stack, he cupped them in his hand and gently hooked a finger on Caliph’s wrist, giving a soft tug. “Let go.”

The blond was panting for breath, his energy all but sapped after the vicious fit. His arm felt heavy, so that even the other man’s gentle tug was able to pull his hand a few inches away. Almost immediately, his nose was wrapped in the cool paper, Rio’s stern voice ordering, “Blow.”

As before, he obeyed. He couldn’t help it.

The hand closed and turned the tissues. “Again.” And Caliph obeyed, almost robotically. Rio’s voice had a quality Caliph had never heard before. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost call it... protective.

Almost.

Caliph sniffled thickly and dropped the hand that had hovered uselessly in front of his chest, managing to look relieved and absolutely miserable at the same time. Rio gave his shill's inflamed nostrils a final wipe, tossing the used wad into the trash can at their feet.

“Got one last thing,” the smaller man muttered, leaning over the small space between bunks and picking up the only unopened box. He popped a round disc from the blister pack, something that looked suspiciously like a piece of candy. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he raised it to Caliph’s dry lips. “Open.”

The blond didn’t notice that Rio’s thumb lingered for a second on his bottom lip, too overcome by the numbing coolness that immediately began to slide down his fiery throat.

“Oh god,” the blond murmured in a tired, quiet tone, eyes sliding shut in ecstasy. "H-how...?"

"I'm God's gift," Rio's smug brows waggled, grinning though Caliph was too out of it to notice. "I did 50 jumping jacks to elevate my temperature, turned on the charm, and the doc bought it hook, line, and sinker."

“Thank you...” a drowsy, heart-felt whisper.

Rio simply guided the sleepy head to his shoulder. “Welcome...” he rumbled gruffly, urging his shill to lean against him with a small squeeze of his arm, surprised when the bigger man sank against him without even a hint of protest.

Tucking Caliph’s pillow behind his back, he settling in for the duration, his free hand carding briefly through the sandy, sweat-damp hair, and adjusting blankets that didn’t need adjusting.

-- -- --

[Tarkus]

I've been stalking your story for a few days now and all I can say is...

OMG, YEEEEES, FEED US MOAR OF YOUR LOVELY WRITING!!!!!!!!

I normally dont go for sci-fi/fantasy type fics but yours is hot enough to melt any of the aliens in your fic

I hang on your every update my dear, please continue!