(no subject)
Like a Stellar Bomb
Sunshine
Mace/Capa
14,000 words (This is post 2 of 2)
Adult - sex and language
Big, huge thanks to rhythmsextion for her quick, awesome beta. ♥
Part 2
*
They sat alone during dinner, the others on duty or busy. Briefly, Trey had poked his head into the room and then disappeared, claiming he had promised Searle he'd spend some time in the Earth Room, just like Capa was supposed to.
So they were alone, sitting across from one another at the table and when Capa finished his meal, he pushed back his plate, looked at Mace and calmly said, "I might be the one who's stupid, but you're the one who's afraid."
Then he was getting up, leaving the room, disappearing down the hall toward the payload. Leaving Mace alone in the room with his words.
*
There was a pounding of sneakers against the floor, a warning that he was coming, but Capa didn't know if he could ever really prepare himself for Mace's arrival. The engineer plowed into him from behind and Capa's face slammed hard into the ship's wall, warm blood jetting from his mouth when his teeth cut into his lower lip. It painted the wall of Icarus, painted Capa's lips and chin and it hurt. Pain blasted through him even as Mace grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around.
"You're not my psych officer," Mace hissed, bringing his face close to Capa's, making sure whatever he said would be understood. "You don't know anything about who I am or what I feel and you don't... you can't..."
But he was losing steam quickly and he turned away, looking disgusted with something. Lifting his hands, Mace pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, a noise of frustration and anger building in his chest before it came out as a soft, throaty groan.
"You're an idiot," he said finally, pointing at Capa.
"You said that already," Capa reminded him, wiping blood from his chin.
"I guess that just goes to show you how much I really mean it," Mace muttered angrily, dropping both his hands. "I don't know what you're playing at, but it isn't funny. Just... leave me the hell alone, Capa. Our lives, this mission? It works better when we just don't get in each others' way, okay?"
"We're a crew of eight in the middle of space," Capa said. "Do you really think just avoiding each other is going to work?"
"I don't like you much, so it's going to have to," Mace answered. "It's a big ship. There's plenty of space on Icarus for all of us." Without waiting for an answer, he turned, heading back the way he had come, leaving Capa standing in the hall.
Wiping more blood from his face, Capa watched Mace go. This was why he didn't listen to Searle and this was why the only advice he was going to take from the psych officer from now on was how many hours to spend in the Earth Room. Nothing more.
It all just ended in blood.
*
Falling, plunging through the heat, Capa's arms reel and he screams until his throat is raw. Blood bubbles in his lungs, his skin burns and crisps, hardens into a shell as he continues to fall, then peels back in strips. This is what happens if he fails, this is what happens if the bomb isn't delivered. It's beautiful and it's painful and he can accept it, so long as the world is saved.
Stardust. In a flash.
With a cry, Capa woke up, eyes snapping open in the dark of his bunk. Mace was staring at him, frozen, a hand extended to shake him awake, presumably. When Capa sat up, he fell back, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed in silence.
"Is it the surface of the sun?" Mace asked after a moment, his back to Capa. Hunched over, head down, shoulders curved in, he looked smaller than he really was.
"Yeah," he answered. "I see it all the time."
"I figured," Mace said, then turned, a sliver of his face visible over his shoulder.
"I thought you were avoiding me," Capa said, rubbing his eyes as he fought back a yawn.
"It turned out to be tougher than I thought it would be," Mace replied. That wasn't the only reason he was in Capa's bunk, they both knew it, but neither pressed the issue. Not now.
"Do you see it, too?" Capa asked. "When you dream?"
Mace smiled very faintly and faced forward again, cutting himself off from Capa in an instant. "I don't remember my dreams," he said. "I figure that's probably pretty lucky. The last thing I need on a mission that's driving me a little bit crazy is to see something like that every time I close my eyes."
"Does Searle know you think you're going crazy?" Capa asked, leaning back against the wall of his bunk. Had he stopped to think, he might have realized that he and Mace had already talked longer than he and Cassie ever had on the nights she'd snuck into his bunk.
"Searle knows a lot more than he lets on," Mace said and that was enough of an answer for the both of them. The silence stretched, but Capa found that he didn't want to turn over and go back to sleep. He waited, leaning against the wall, his sheet drawn up over his knees, watching the gentle slope of Mace's back.
"He ever ask you about your sex life?" Mace asked finally, sounding amused. "Like, when the last time you got laid before the mission was? Things like that?"
"No," Capa replied, smiling. "He probably thinks I've never had sex, though. I'm a physicist, we don't get to do things like that."
"He asks me," Mace said, giving a soft laugh. "Why the hell do you get to avoid having that uncomfortable conversation just because you're a physicist?"
"If it makes you feel any better, there isn't much to tell," Capa admitted slowly. "Maybe Searle is right, maybe he knows that and he just doesn't ask. The last time I had sex before the mission was... almost two years before we left."
He remembered her, too; her hands and her hair and the scent of her in his bed. She'd loved him and he'd loved his work. It was with her that Capa had learned the all too true cliché; sometimes love just wasn't enough.
"Shit," Mace said, looking at Capa over his shoulder again. "Two years. And here I thought my reluctant six months was pathetic."
"No one is ever as pathetic as the physicist," Capa pointed out with a wry, tired smile.
Mace nodded, looking like he was about to say something more, then abruptly stood up. "Sorry for waking you," he said, and before Capa could even come up with a reply, he had slid open the bunk door and was walking softly down the hall. The door slid shut behind him, translucent and glassy, showing Capa only Mace's shadow stretched along the surface until he was closed into his own bunk.
"No one is ever as pathetic as the physicist," Capa muttered to himself, settling down to sleep once more, but sleep didn't come for him again that night.
*
"I notice you and Mace are once more on speaking terms," Searle commented before he let Capa into the Earth Room. Against the walls, a green rain forest shimmered, water dripping and birds singing, waiting for Capa to enter and lose himself in the illusion for an hour or so.
"He smashed my face into the wall," Capa answered, as if that explained how things had come to where they were.
Searle nodded. "That explains the blood just outside the kitchen, then, I suppose."
"I meant to clean that up," Capa offered, hovering in the door of the Earth Room, waiting to be let inside so he could do his time, as he thought of it. It wasn't quite a prison; it was tough to feel like a hostage when the room itself could be so utterly beautiful, but he didn't want to be inside. He wanted to be working and he was sure Searle knew it.
"And you two have worked out your differences?" Searle asked.
Capa laughed, short and sharp, then looked at the other man, trying to decide if he was serious. Slowly, he shook his head, still looking amused. "No," he said. "We really haven't even come close to working out our differences. I doubt we ever will."
"At least you're both trying," Searle decided, as if their attempt was the only thing he could ask for. "Go ahead, then. An hour in the Earth Room. I'll come get you when your time is up."
As Capa slipped into the room, letting the sound of the birds and the water take him away, he couldn't help but smile just a little. Whatever he and Mace were doing, he wasn't sure he would consider it trying, but if it satisfied Searle, he would let the psych officer believe that it was an attempt at some kind of reconciliation.
*
"I'm supposed to apologize for smashing your face into the wall," Mace grunted, standing awkwardly in the door of the observation room. With his hands curled over the sides of the frame, his gaze down at the floor, he looked more uncomfortable and uncertain than Capa had ever seen him.
"Searle asked you to apologize?" he asked, tearing his gaze away from Mace with some effort and looking back through the window. The sun was getting larger every day.
"Yeah. Why the hell did you tell him that I did that?" Mace asked, but he didn't sound angry. Just faintly embarrassed and irritated that he had to do something as ridiculous as apologize. "Does he know about all the other times we've gotten into fights?"
"I don't think so," Capa answered. "Does that matter?"
"I want to know just how many times he expects me to apologize over the next few weeks," Mace answered, still staring at the ground. Rocking back and forth slowly, he frowned, not saying anything else before he let out a sigh and looked up at Capa.
"Was that the apology?" Capa asked, trying not to grin.
"Yeah," Mace mumbled.
"I guess I accept."
"Good," Mace said, then rocked back on his heels again. "You're an asshole."
Capa let out a sharp, surprised laugh, then shook his head. "This is a fucking joke."
Mace didn't ask him to clarify and Capa didn't offer an explanation, just watched as the sun grew closer and closer to their ship. One day, sooner than they would realize, they'd see Mercury passing over the surface, circling across the sun on its orbit, a dark spot on the bright flame, and Capa knew when that day came, they'd be closer than ever to not going home.
"Mace, you should come by again," Capa said after a long silence, but when he turned and glanced over his shoulder, Mace was gone. For how long, Capa didn't know. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to ask Mace to visit his bunk again.
*
In the end, he didn't need to ask.
Four nights later, Capa woke as the door of his bunk first slid open and then closed.
"Two years, huh?" Mace asked, standing near the door, the light from the hall casting him into a silhouette.
"What?" Capa asked, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, wondering what he'd missed. Two years. What had been two years?
"Since you last got laid," Mace said, his voice sounding a little strangled, like he was embarrassed and maybe something else.
"Oh," Capa said, then blinked, nodding as he sat up. "Well, longer now. Two years when we left Earth. I guess over three years now."
"Doesn't it bug you?" Mace asked. If there had been room in the bunk to pace, Capa suspected Mace would have started then. As it was, his hands twisted uncomfortably before he forced himself to put them down by his sides.
"Not having sex?" Capa asked, then shook his head. "No. I guess I don't think about it all that much. Not with all the work I have to do here."
"It bugs me," Mace muttered, leaning against the wall for a moment before he sighed and sat down on the edge of Capa's bed.
"It bugs you that I haven't had sex in three years," Capa repeated slowly, knowing he was probably misunderstanding what Mace was trying to say, but still needing to make sure.
"Don't be an asshole now," Mace instructed quietly. "I don't want to ruin our moment by punching you in the mouth."
Capa's lips twitched into a faint smile, but he said nothing.
Even a month ago, Capa would have been surprised by the gentle pressure of Mace's hand on his leg, but now he almost expected it. Their lives were coming to an end, of this they were certain. It was a fact they accepted, both resolved to fulfill their requirements regardless of their own lives. And maybe it was because of this that Capa wasn't at all surprised. What did surprise him, if anything, was the lightness of the touch as Mace's hand slid higher, fingers ghosting over the sheet that covered Capa's thigh. Unlike everything else that existed between them, it wasn't rough or aggressive, it was just a touch.
With the exception of their fights, Capa hadn't touched someone willingly in more than a year.
When Mace kissed him, Capa's breath escaped in a warm, nervous laugh, a shiver racing up the length of his body in response to Mace's mouth. Capa had kissed men before, a few times during college; during the few parties he'd gone to and once in the lab he had spent almost all his time in. The last kiss had ended with a few fumbling touches, the press of the other student's erection against his leg and an awkward, uncomfortable goodbye when they pulled apart. Nothing had ever come of it, but it hadn't felt quite this easy.
Kissing Mace was like fighting with him; simple and straightforward and honest. Neither of them cared about the romance or the conventions of what they were supposed to do. They just knew what they wanted and when Mace shifted, getting his knees up onto the bed, Capa leaned back and welcomed him. Briefly, he fought with the sheet, kicking it down as far as he could and then his hands found Mace's shoulders, fingers curling over warm, smooth skin. Then Mace was settling onto him, straddling his hips and any thoughts of how Mace's skin felt under his fingers fled Capa's mind.
Three years had never seemed quite so long until Mace was sitting in his lap.
Like a slap, the memory of his dream about Mace's hands rocked Capa and he groaned, pushing up toward them hopefully. Mace slid them under the hem of his shirt, long fingers splayed over Capa's thin ribs and for a moment, he couldn't move. He was frozen under that touch, remembering the dream, remembering the way Mace's hands had traced rough patterns down his body. At the time he hadn't even known what he'd wanted, but now it didn't matter. Now it was clear.
Searle would be proud, Capa thought, then grinned as he kissed Mace harder and began to tug at the material of his shirt.
It came off without a second thought, white cotton discarded on the floor beside the bed and Capa's shirt went next, getting lost between the pillows and the sheet. Mace was laughing softly, breathlessly, his stubble scraping Capa's cheek as his mouth moved, discovering the line of Capa's jaw. Reaching up with one hand, Capa tangled his fingers in Mace's hair just for something to hold onto as his hips bucked up, seemingly of their own will. It felt dangerously, perfectly, like all his control was gone.
"Lie down," Mace murmured against Capa's throat, his breath hot against his skin. Capa shivered again as his free hand traveled the expanse of Mace's back, tracing warm skin and strong muscles. "Christ," Mace said, laughing. "Lie down, asshole, or this isn't going to work the way either of us want it to."
It was difficult, pushing down on the bed, especially since Mace was unable to stop kissing Capa, but they managed. Capa stretched out on the small bunk, kicking the sheet off the bed entirely, and Mace settled on top of him, a knee between his legs, a warm, heavy presence that Capa wanted to arch up and rub against, but managed to ignore.
For a moment they froze, Capa's hands against the hem of Mace's sweatpants, Mace breathing hard over Capa's cheekbone and they hovered there just long enough for Capa to feel impatient and needy. Then Mace was arching down against his body, rubbing their hips together as he let out a soft, shuddering breath against Capa's cheek. A soft groan escaped one of them, but Capa couldn't even be sure who it was anymore, not when their breath was mingling and their moans were rising and falling with every movement.
"Fuck," Mace groaned and his hand clenched involuntarily in Capa's hair, squeezing to the point of pain before he let go.
They were rocking against each other, sweat dappling the skin of Capa's forehead, the skin between his shoulder blades growing damp as he groaned and clutched at Mace. Whatever Searle had wanted from them, Capa was sure it wasn't this, but it was exactly the right thing. Exactly the right kind of connection for two people on a suicide mission. The end of their world was coming, one way or another, and Capa didn't care anymore about what he should and shouldn't do. He wanted this and he was going to have it and, truly, finally, it didn't matter.
"Christ, Capa, get..." But Mace couldn't finish. Instead, his hand fell to Capa's hip, rolling down the hem of his sweatpants, trying to get them off without having to move. The elastic caught on Capa's hip and Mace groaned in frustration, breathing hard and hot against Capa's throat as he tipped his head down and tried to watch what he was doing.
"Mace," Capa breathed, wriggling under him slowly. With what felt like a great effort, he managed to push both hands down to his pants, sliding out of them as quickly as he possibly could. When he realized that Mace was doing the same - that he was missing out on helping Mace get undressed - he gave another groan, both of impatience and disappointment.
"Please."
It was the first time Capa had ever heard Mace use that word. Uttered so breathlessly, it almost entirely undid Capa and a strangled moan escaped him as he finally felt warm skin pressed to his own. Whatever Mace was begging for, Capa would be more than happy to give it if he could just have another moment with that delicious friction, the slide of Mace's cock against the jut of his hip. Against him, Mace felt shaky, like he'd lost all his strength and Capa wasn't sure he could entirely blame him. Even with the bed under his back, supporting him and holding him up, he felt almost like he would collapse at any moment.
Above him, Mace hesitated and it only occurred to Capa in that moment that it was possible - no, it was likely - that Mace had never done this before. It was likely Capa was the first. When he opened his mouth to ask, Mace just shook his head, telling him not to say anything that might turn this moment into just another fight, because it always seemed possible between them, anger and violence hovering right at the edges of even their most calm interactions. And this was anything but calm.
Mace kissed him again, fitting his knee between Capa's legs at the same time, almost as an offering. Feeling Mace's fingers fist in his hair, Capa lifted his entire body, pressing into both the touch and the kiss, his lips parting, breath heavy in Mace's mouth. The hesitation was gone. They both groaned, arching and pressing against each other, sweat collecting between them as they rubbed impatiently, trying to find some kind of release.
When Capa came, he went silent and stiff, his mouth falling open as a long, shuddering breath escaped. Both his hands clenched tightly, one in Mace's hair, the other at his hip, hanging onto the other man's body as he rode it out, shaking with every wave of pleasure. Just as he began to regain some kind of control over himself, Mace pushed down hard, rubbing against his hip and then he groaned, long and low, his lips against Capa's ear. Warmth spread between their bodies and Capa could feel Mace's muscles twitching, sparks and currents going off all over and it was the most out of control Capa had ever seen Mace.
With a soft noise, Mace pressed his face into the curve of Capa's throat, proving once again that he could continually surprise the other man. It wasn't exactly affection, but it was close, and Capa's hand slid free of Mace’s hair, dropping down to curl around the back of his neck. They lay like that for a long time, both trying to catch their breath, bodies cooling, sweat drying and heart rates finally returning to normal. Then, without a word, Mace kissed Capa once, hard, and got up off the bed.
Dressing quickly, he didn't even look over his shoulder when he left the bunk.
*
It made things easier. Capa didn't fully understand why, but he accepted that it did. He still wasn't comfortable with everyone and he still spent too much time - according to Searle, anyway - working on the payload, but it made things easier. His chess games with Kaneda became a sort of habit, played out once or twice a week in the loading dock, the only place they could find some peace and quiet long enough to get a game under their belts.
Capa had to let the captain win now and then.
Cassie seemed to sense something was different and although she'd begun to come to his bunk again, she didn't press for things that Capa wouldn't or couldn't give. It was because of Mace or because Cassie had backed off that he finally told her what he dreamed about.
"The surface of the sun?" she asked one night, the corners of her mouth lifting very slightly.
Capa nodded, leaning back against the wall in his bunk. "Most nights," he admitted softly. Some nights, the ones when Mace came to him, were dreamless. But most nights he still dreamed of plummeting to the surface of the sun, charbroiling in the flames he'd been sent to save.
Cassie nodded as well, turning away from him a little, looking out into the hall. Someone's shadow moved, paused, then walked on and Capa wondered if Mace had been there. He wondered if Mace knew that Cassie still came to his bunk to talk.
"I have bad dreams," she said, then stood and smiled very faintly. "That's why I don't sleep very often."
"You didn't have to tell me," Capa said gently.
"I know," Cassie replied. "But I told you that I would when you told me what you dreamed of." Then, in silence, she watched Capa, studying him closely, as if the expression on his face would tell her everything she wanted to know. "What changed?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean what changed? In you. Something changed in the past few weeks and you're..." But Cassie trailed off, seemingly unable to find the word she was looking for.
"I guess I just realized how close we are," Capa said. "To the end of it all."
"The mission, you mean," Cassie offered.
Smiling sadly, Capa nodded his agreement, although even that was a lie. "To the end of the mission," he said and it was never more apparent to him than in that moment that he and Mace were different people than the others.
*
In a shadowed, secluded corner near the payload, Mace groaned, pushing against Capa harder. Their hands roamed, pushing under shirts and down the backs of pants, belts undone and hanging loose. Capa's sneakers slid onto the floor and Mace laughed breathlessly, keeping him from falling completely, bonelessly to the ground.
Mace's hand was shoved down the front of Capa's pants, jerking him slowly inside his boxers and although Capa could hear the soft sound of Mace's laugh and he could feel the warmth of his breath against his throat, it felt like he was somewhere else entirely. Soon enough, it would be gone. All of this would be gone.
"God," he breathed out as his body shuddered and Mace grinned against the curve of his shoulder.
*
"You seem more present lately," Searle commented as Capa took a seat beside him in the observation room. "Icarus, dial it down a little. We know our Doctor Capa has sensitive skin."
"Yes, Searle," the computer answered promptly and the room grew a little darker, enough so that Capa could lift his eyes from the floor and actually look through the window as the sun grew larger.
"Do I?" Capa asked, wondering what the sun would look like in a month. Just one more month and they would be there. Time was running short and he felt both anxious and nervous, knowing he still couldn't quantify what might happen to the bomb once they released it. He wished he could figure it out. He wished he had more time.
"Within the past several months, yes," Searle said. "Something appears to have gotten through to you."
Capa's shoulders lifted and he frowned, still looking out at the sun. The surface glowed bright through the blackened, dying parts, still burning, still living. If it would live for just a little while longer, Capa knew they could complete their mission and bring it back.
"I can't explain it," he said finally. "Nothing has changed."
"You and Mace aren't friends?" Searle asked.
"Mace and I can barely be in the same room together without a fight breaking out," Capa pointed out. It wasn't the entire truth, but he and Mace hadn't exactly begun to have their murmured conversations in public and he doubted they ever would. What existed between them existed only between them and even then, it wasn't clear to Capa what it was. It was fighting and fucking and a whispered admission or two in rare moments. Even now, even with the sex, it was more of a fight than anything and somehow that was a comfort.
"He seems to be getting worse," Searle acknowledged, frowning as well, his gaze finally drifting forward to the observation window once again. "He's losing track of things, losing track of himself. I'm a little worried, frankly."
"I don't think you're supposed to discuss other patients with me," Capa said. "I think that's looked upon as unethical."
"I'm not talking about Mace as a patient. I'm talking about him as a member of my crew," Searle answered.
"So rather than breaking some kind of oath, it's just idle gossip," Capa muttered dryly, running his hands through his hair before he stood up. "I don't know what's up with Mace. We're not buddies. He's just a guy on the same crew I am."
As Capa left, Searle nodded, mostly to himself. "Icarus, dial down the filter, please."
*
"You ever feel like you're losing track of time out here?" Mace asked, watching as the payload test run lit up the room inside the weapon. A soft smile touched his face as a spark ignited just beyond the window in front of him, flickering and shimmering against the black.
"Don't talk like that around Searle," Capa warned, not knowing how to answer that question. The few conversations they did have were conducted in the privacy of Capa's bunk or the payload, where no one else could see them. The fights were public and common, but this was something between only them. Capa still didn't know what to call it.
"Why not?" Mace asked, reaching out, as if he could touch the flickering light. His hand fell back to his side a moment later and he looked over at Capa curiously. "Did he say something to you?"
"He's worried you can't handle being here," Capa said honestly. "Don't give him a reason to be."
Mace's mouth tightened and he looked away from Capa, back to the light that hung in front of him. "Fuck you, Capa."
Turning, irritated, Capa stared at Mace. "Fuck you," he answered. "I didn't go running to Searle to tell him something was wrong, if that's what you're thinking. He's the one who brought it up. He's under the insane impression you and I are friends."
"Fuck you, Capa," Mace repeated, enunciating each word carefully and clearly, his gaze sharp and angry. As a light danced nearby, shedding light on his face, he watched Capa, waiting for an answer, his expression making it clear that he didn't want to hear one. Then he shook his head, looking disgusted and walked away, the echo of his footsteps on the ramp loud inside the payload.
Mere seconds seemed to have passed before Cassie was there, ringing the buzzer to be let in and Capa sighed before unlocking the door. She came down the ramp, and then came into the room, looking at Capa in concern.
"Are you okay?" she asked, barely glancing at the lights.
It said so much about a person, Capa thought, whether or not they were as taken by the payload as he was.
"I'm fine," he said. "I'm doing a test run, that's all."
"I saw Mace leaving," Cassie continued. "He looked angry."
"When doesn't Mace look angry?" Capa countered, shrugging, unconcerned.
"I thought maybe something had happened," she said, frowning as she studied him. There were no bruises, no physical marks to indicate to her that anything might have occurred between the two of them, but it didn't seem to stop her from looking for evidence.
"Nothing happened," Capa insisted. "Mace just doesn't like me. You know that."
It wasn't as simple as that, not anymore, but Cassie didn't need to know any intricacies of what had made things more complicated. More importantly, Capa didn't want to share them.
"As long as you're okay," she said reluctantly and Capa turned to her, forcing a smile.
"I'm okay," he promised. He wasn't.
*
Seven days sooner than planned, they had nearly reached the dead zone. No radio contact, no way to send or receive messages from home, only the black, the sun and Icarus. During dinner, Harvey delivered the bad news, giving them an approximate time frame during which they had to send messages back home. From under the long fringe of his hair, Mace met Capa's gaze briefly and then looked away. They'd barely spoken in two weeks, which Capa found both insulting and aggravating, although he refused to be the one to make an attempt to apologize.
In the end, there simply wasn't much to say.
"We'll finally be on our own," Cassie murmured.
"We're fifty-five million miles from Earth," Mace answered. "I'd say we're already on our own."
*
Alone in the message room, Capa found there wasn't much to say to those waiting for him back home either. There was no doubt that he loved his family very much; it was for them he was on this mission. The words just didn't matter.
"Okay," Capa murmured, recording the final message. "I'm signing off. And I'll see you in a couple of years."
Even as he said it, it felt like a lie, but there was nothing else he could say. They needed that hope and, even if he had to lie, he would give it to them. Hesitating for only a moment, Capa leaned forward and pressed the button that would send his message back home to his parents, giving them one last visual of their son gone to save mankind.
The weight of that final message surprised Capa and, as he stepped out of the small recording room, he wasn't expecting a physical blow to accompany the emotional punch he was still feeling. Mace grabbed him hard, yanking him into a headlock that immediately cut off his air. Capa's arms swung wildly and he buried his fingers in Mace's hair, not realizing at first what was even going on. They were fighting, as they always were, and Mace was grunting and cursing, squeezing harder and harder until Capa was sure he was going to pass out or die.
"Hey!" Harvey shouted, tearing into the room just as Capa managed to get a better hold on Mace, locking his own arm around Mace's neck.
"Fuck," Mace sputtered, refusing to let go even as Harvey and Trey managed together to pull him off. Capa fell back, breathing hard, recoiling against the control panel as Mace lunged for him, held back only by the two others.
"You fucking son of a bitch," Mace shouted, struggling against Harvey furiously, arms reaching for Capa. "I can't send my package, the wind is too high."
Jesus. That was the problem. Capa had taken too long and now the one person losing track of what he'd left behind couldn't even send a message back home.
"I'm sorry, okay," Capa said, genuinely distressed as Harvey and Trey led Mace away. "I didn't realize I was taking so long."
Even down the hall, he could still hear Mace's curses and his angry grunts as he tried to break free and come after Capa again. For the first time, Capa had to wonder if he didn't deserve every blow, every punch that Mace had landed.
*
It wasn't the Earth Room, but the oxygen garden was quiet and green and peaceful, and Capa was sure Cassie wouldn't come find him there. At a table, he worked quietly on the plants Corazon had given him, repotting, planting, moving dirt from one pot to another, until he could feel the muscles in his shoulders protesting all the movement. Still he worked, trying to block the memories of earlier, trying to come to some kind of acceptance about the rest of the mission.
The end was looming now, getting closer every day.
When he saw Mace coming, Capa cringed and turned away, wishing he could escape without making it look like he was trying to run. It wasn't going to happen, though, not when Mace could see him and not when Mace was clearly heading straight for him, so Capa drew in a breath and prepared himself for what he knew he had to say.
"Mace, I'm sorry," he said, even though Mace was already talking over him. "I should've let you go-"
"Listen, Capa, before you say anything. Capa," Mace tried to interrupt, his voice growing sharp. "Capa, it's me. I'm the one apologizing, alright?"
Taking a breath, Capa looked down at the table in front of him and nodded. "Alright."
It was more than just an apology for the fight and for taking too long. It was for that reason that Capa was unable to look up until Mace had been standing silently for a long time. It was too familiar and he smiled just slightly, then asked, "Was that the apology?"
"Yeah," Mace snapped, pushing back from the table awkwardly.
Capa nodded. "Consider it accepted."
"Okay." Mace nodded as well, then turned and left the room, his back to Capa, but it felt different this time. It was better, somehow, just with those words. An apology that, on the surface, was just for one incident, but meant more. It wasn't quite a peace offering, but it was something.
*
Within five hours, Mace's hair was cut, the beard shaved, and he was standing against the far wall of Capa's bunk, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Capa knew it would appear to Searle that something had gone right, that perhaps the time in the Earth Room had given Mace perspective, but he knew what it really was. He knew that the last vestiges of hope, had Mace ever really had them, had fallen away.
"Feeling better?" Capa asked, raking his hair away from his face with one hand.
Mace crossed the room and caught Capa's face between his hands in response, pressing their mouths together in a hard, hot kiss. Their shifts were over; the others were either sleeping or on the flight deck and the only glow in the bunk was the soft illumination from the lights that lined the floor of the hall outside. Coming together, Mace's hands on Capa's face, Capa's hands gripping for hair that was no longer there, they moved toward the bunk, tripping over themselves in their haste.
Capa didn't waste the opportunity this time and when Mace fell back slightly, his hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up and over his head. His hands smoothed over Mace's shoulders, down his arms and before he could even get his own t-shirt off entirely, Mace was kissing him again, desperately, frantically, pouring everything into it that he'd been trying to deal with for months now.
Months in the dark black of space with nothing but stardust, strapped to the back of a bomb the size of Manhattan. It was a wonder they hadn't all gone completely insane.
"We can do this," Mace murmured against the line of Capa's throat, teeth scraping over skin as he gave a soft, needy groan. Fingertips grazed down Capa's sides, skimming over the ridges of his ribs before both of Mace's hands anchored themselves on Capa's hips and dragged their bodies together. They found a wall, used it as support for a moment, rubbing hard against each other as Mace muttered words absently against Capa's skin.
"We can do this," he repeated, a hand finally falling to the front of Capa's pants, opening them quickly and expertly and Capa had to wonder just how many times Mace had undone his own pants one handed to be so damn good at it now. "Right? We can do this."
"We have to," Capa panted, his head falling back, eyes closed.
Shoving away from the wall, pushing them toward the bed, Mace found Capa's mouth with his own. Speaking against his lower lip, he murmured, "Why do we have to?"
For a moment, Capa couldn't respond. He hit the bed with a groan and Mace's hands worked quickly, pushing down the rough material of his pants, kicking off his own shoes in a hurry. Within moments, Mace was lying on his back on the bed, his pants half undone and around his knees, struggling to get them off even as he waited for an answer.
"Because," Capa said, dragging his gaze up from Mace's chest to his face, meeting his eyes. "It's what we're here for."
They hovered there on the edge of something, Mace's chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. For a second, he seemed like he was about to say something. Then, without a word, he was kicking his pants off the rest of the way, his legs spreading as he grabbed for Capa greedily, fingers curling over his slim wrists and pulling him down. Groaning, Mace nipped sharply at Capa's shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine and he couldn't help but laugh softly as he pushed a hand down between their bodies.
Under him, Mace tensed, his heels digging into the sheets as he tried to push up toward the touch. With someone else, with a woman maybe, Capa would have taken his time, but he wasn't with someone else and he wasn't here to waste time. Not when they had so little of it left.
Wrapping long fingers around Mace's cock, Capa's hand moved slowly at first, lifting his hips so he could move his hand more freely. Beneath him, Mace's body tensed again, muscles pulling tight as his head fell back onto Capa's pillow, a low groan building in his chest. As he arched, he exposed the long line from his chest to his jaw and Capa leaned in again, his hand working over Mace, his lips and tongue tracing up and across soft, warm skin.
"Fuck, Capa," Mace moaned and both his hands clenched in the sheets under his body, pulling at them as if they could anchor him to the bed. With an effort, he lifted one hand and fumbled blindly between them, his hand touching Capa's fingers first and then trying to guide him.
It took a moment for Capa to understand what he wanted, but then he felt the length of Mace's dick pressing against his own and he groaned in understanding. Releasing his hold on Mace, he shifted, and then wrapped his hand around the two of them, holding himself up with one arm and slowly jerking them both with the other. His arm trembled and Mace reached up, having communicated what he wanted, and held onto Capa's shoulder, supporting him as best he could. His feet slipped, skidding on the sheets as he tried to press up, body bowing, back arching into the sweat-slicked grip of Capa's hand.
All through it, Capa was silent save for the gasping, panting breaths he kept trying to drag in. It was Mace who groaned and threw back his head. It was Mace whose mouth fell open as Capa's hand squeezed tighter, pressing their dicks together, and let out a soft, low cry. Somehow, lost in it all, Capa could still take it in, could still hear every breath or murmur of pleasure, could still see every time the crease between Mace's brows deepened as he pushed up, seeking more.
In his hand, Capa felt Mace's cock twitch and then Mace moaned, loud enough to be heard in the hall should anyone be passing, but Capa couldn't care. All he wanted was to continue pushing into the circle of his fist, warmth and wetness spreading over his skin as Mace came, his breath catching and another long groan escaping. Unexpectedly, Mace opened his eyes as he struggled to regain his breath and caught Capa's gaze. Pinned under it, Capa nearly stopped, but then his hips pushed forward hard and as his dick slid through his fingers and against Mace's stomach, he came with a startled noise.
Slowly rolling off Mace, Capa flipped onto his back and stared up at the low ceiling of his bunk as he panted softly, his hand resting against the inside of Mace's thigh. Unlike the first time and most of the times in between, Mace didn't immediately climb off the bed and begin to get dressed. He lay back in the bunk, sweaty sheets tangled around his feet and he kicked at them absently as his breathing slowed. Turning his head against the pillow, he looked at Capa.
"It's what we’re here for," he said and it took Capa a moment to remember what he was talking about. "That's it. We're here for the mission."
"We're here for the mission," Capa agreed quietly, reaching up to push damp, tangled curls off his forehead.
"So don't fuck it up," Mace warned, even as he smiled very faintly and looked up at the ceiling of the bunk as well. He looked relaxed, more in tune with everything around them than Capa had ever seen and, as before, he understood that Mace hadn't gotten better, according to Searle's definition of such. He'd gotten worse. He'd gotten further away from others and even from Capa himself. The only thing he'd gotten closer to was the mission.
"When the time comes, Capa, don't fuck it up," he continued. "Anything you need to do... anyone you need to leave behind... just do it."
"It'll get done," Capa promised and they both fell silent.
When he shifted, finally, and found Mace's eyes closed, Capa frowned very faintly, wondering if he had fallen asleep. It wasn't until he'd propped himself up on one elbow and was looking down at Mace that the corners of Mace's mouth turned up slightly.
"I'm not spending the night, Capa, don't worry," he said.
With a laugh, Capa rolled onto his back again. It was so fucked up. It was all so fucked up.
"Do you remember what you said to me about the others thinking about what they'll do when they get home?" Capa asked suddenly and from beside him, Mace nodded. "You never think about that? Not even in passing? Not even for a moment?"
Mace said nothing for a long time and then asked, "Do you?"
"No. Rarely. Once I thought about what it would be like to see my sister's kids again," Capa admitted quietly. "They'd be a lot older. I wondered what they'd look like." There was silence and then, "You didn't answer my question. Have you ever thought about it?"
Mace smiled, soft and genuine, and said, "No."
*
Knowing it was coming didn't make it any easier, Capa realized as he huddled in the airlock, shivering violently from blood loss, listening to Mace call for him. There was something inherently more powerful in understanding someone than there was in simple friendship, he discovered, and he knew Mace was dying. He knew they were both dying and everyone else, if they weren't already long gone, they would be dead within minutes.
"Capa, my leg," Mace groaned over the intercom, his voice so close to disappearing altogether. So weak, nothing like Capa had ever heard from him before. Anyone you need to leave behind... just do it.
"Do it, Capa. Do it."
And then there was nothing. Just an order to separate the payload from the ship, an order to send the bomb straight into the sun and save the world. Not another word, not another breath, just silence from Mace's end and Capa stared at the headpiece in his hand, willing it to make some sort of noise. He drew in a soft, shuddering breath.
"Mace?" he asked softly, but Mace was gone.
In another room in another compartment of the ship, Mace lay frozen and dead on the floor, coolant pooling around him. A broken connection, nothing more.
There was nothing and Capa remembered how little it all mattered in the end if he didn't get the payload to the sun. If he couldn't detonate the bomb, it was all just a waste.
Do it.
*
The payload tumbled toward the sun and Capa stood in the centre of his weapon and watched as the lights sparked into life around him. Twinkling, shimmering, the Stellar Bomb did her work and Capa watched in awe, smiling unconsciously at the spectacle of light. For an instant, the weapon was bathed in white light and then the surface of the sun came rushing toward him, hot and bright and orange and Capa closed his eyes, waiting for it to take him. The heat touched him and he laughed, opening his eyes once more to see what the end would look like.
Searle would have appreciated it. Maybe Cassie would have as well, but Capa wasn't thinking of either of them as he watched the bright light overtake the weapon.
He wished, briefly, that Mace could have seen this. It was the most beautiful thing Capa had ever seen in his life, a series of reactions and connections, each sparking off the next, reigniting the sun, bringing the world back to life. It worked exactly as it was supposed to and Capa reached out to touch it, fingers dipping into the fire that would keep his world from dying.
It finally wasn't a dream and Capa wasn't afraid.
Sunshine
Mace/Capa
14,000 words (This is post 2 of 2)
Adult - sex and language
Big, huge thanks to rhythmsextion for her quick, awesome beta. ♥
Part 2
*
They sat alone during dinner, the others on duty or busy. Briefly, Trey had poked his head into the room and then disappeared, claiming he had promised Searle he'd spend some time in the Earth Room, just like Capa was supposed to.
So they were alone, sitting across from one another at the table and when Capa finished his meal, he pushed back his plate, looked at Mace and calmly said, "I might be the one who's stupid, but you're the one who's afraid."
Then he was getting up, leaving the room, disappearing down the hall toward the payload. Leaving Mace alone in the room with his words.
*
There was a pounding of sneakers against the floor, a warning that he was coming, but Capa didn't know if he could ever really prepare himself for Mace's arrival. The engineer plowed into him from behind and Capa's face slammed hard into the ship's wall, warm blood jetting from his mouth when his teeth cut into his lower lip. It painted the wall of Icarus, painted Capa's lips and chin and it hurt. Pain blasted through him even as Mace grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around.
"You're not my psych officer," Mace hissed, bringing his face close to Capa's, making sure whatever he said would be understood. "You don't know anything about who I am or what I feel and you don't... you can't..."
But he was losing steam quickly and he turned away, looking disgusted with something. Lifting his hands, Mace pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, a noise of frustration and anger building in his chest before it came out as a soft, throaty groan.
"You're an idiot," he said finally, pointing at Capa.
"You said that already," Capa reminded him, wiping blood from his chin.
"I guess that just goes to show you how much I really mean it," Mace muttered angrily, dropping both his hands. "I don't know what you're playing at, but it isn't funny. Just... leave me the hell alone, Capa. Our lives, this mission? It works better when we just don't get in each others' way, okay?"
"We're a crew of eight in the middle of space," Capa said. "Do you really think just avoiding each other is going to work?"
"I don't like you much, so it's going to have to," Mace answered. "It's a big ship. There's plenty of space on Icarus for all of us." Without waiting for an answer, he turned, heading back the way he had come, leaving Capa standing in the hall.
Wiping more blood from his face, Capa watched Mace go. This was why he didn't listen to Searle and this was why the only advice he was going to take from the psych officer from now on was how many hours to spend in the Earth Room. Nothing more.
It all just ended in blood.
*
Falling, plunging through the heat, Capa's arms reel and he screams until his throat is raw. Blood bubbles in his lungs, his skin burns and crisps, hardens into a shell as he continues to fall, then peels back in strips. This is what happens if he fails, this is what happens if the bomb isn't delivered. It's beautiful and it's painful and he can accept it, so long as the world is saved.
Stardust. In a flash.
With a cry, Capa woke up, eyes snapping open in the dark of his bunk. Mace was staring at him, frozen, a hand extended to shake him awake, presumably. When Capa sat up, he fell back, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed in silence.
"Is it the surface of the sun?" Mace asked after a moment, his back to Capa. Hunched over, head down, shoulders curved in, he looked smaller than he really was.
"Yeah," he answered. "I see it all the time."
"I figured," Mace said, then turned, a sliver of his face visible over his shoulder.
"I thought you were avoiding me," Capa said, rubbing his eyes as he fought back a yawn.
"It turned out to be tougher than I thought it would be," Mace replied. That wasn't the only reason he was in Capa's bunk, they both knew it, but neither pressed the issue. Not now.
"Do you see it, too?" Capa asked. "When you dream?"
Mace smiled very faintly and faced forward again, cutting himself off from Capa in an instant. "I don't remember my dreams," he said. "I figure that's probably pretty lucky. The last thing I need on a mission that's driving me a little bit crazy is to see something like that every time I close my eyes."
"Does Searle know you think you're going crazy?" Capa asked, leaning back against the wall of his bunk. Had he stopped to think, he might have realized that he and Mace had already talked longer than he and Cassie ever had on the nights she'd snuck into his bunk.
"Searle knows a lot more than he lets on," Mace said and that was enough of an answer for the both of them. The silence stretched, but Capa found that he didn't want to turn over and go back to sleep. He waited, leaning against the wall, his sheet drawn up over his knees, watching the gentle slope of Mace's back.
"He ever ask you about your sex life?" Mace asked finally, sounding amused. "Like, when the last time you got laid before the mission was? Things like that?"
"No," Capa replied, smiling. "He probably thinks I've never had sex, though. I'm a physicist, we don't get to do things like that."
"He asks me," Mace said, giving a soft laugh. "Why the hell do you get to avoid having that uncomfortable conversation just because you're a physicist?"
"If it makes you feel any better, there isn't much to tell," Capa admitted slowly. "Maybe Searle is right, maybe he knows that and he just doesn't ask. The last time I had sex before the mission was... almost two years before we left."
He remembered her, too; her hands and her hair and the scent of her in his bed. She'd loved him and he'd loved his work. It was with her that Capa had learned the all too true cliché; sometimes love just wasn't enough.
"Shit," Mace said, looking at Capa over his shoulder again. "Two years. And here I thought my reluctant six months was pathetic."
"No one is ever as pathetic as the physicist," Capa pointed out with a wry, tired smile.
Mace nodded, looking like he was about to say something more, then abruptly stood up. "Sorry for waking you," he said, and before Capa could even come up with a reply, he had slid open the bunk door and was walking softly down the hall. The door slid shut behind him, translucent and glassy, showing Capa only Mace's shadow stretched along the surface until he was closed into his own bunk.
"No one is ever as pathetic as the physicist," Capa muttered to himself, settling down to sleep once more, but sleep didn't come for him again that night.
*
"I notice you and Mace are once more on speaking terms," Searle commented before he let Capa into the Earth Room. Against the walls, a green rain forest shimmered, water dripping and birds singing, waiting for Capa to enter and lose himself in the illusion for an hour or so.
"He smashed my face into the wall," Capa answered, as if that explained how things had come to where they were.
Searle nodded. "That explains the blood just outside the kitchen, then, I suppose."
"I meant to clean that up," Capa offered, hovering in the door of the Earth Room, waiting to be let inside so he could do his time, as he thought of it. It wasn't quite a prison; it was tough to feel like a hostage when the room itself could be so utterly beautiful, but he didn't want to be inside. He wanted to be working and he was sure Searle knew it.
"And you two have worked out your differences?" Searle asked.
Capa laughed, short and sharp, then looked at the other man, trying to decide if he was serious. Slowly, he shook his head, still looking amused. "No," he said. "We really haven't even come close to working out our differences. I doubt we ever will."
"At least you're both trying," Searle decided, as if their attempt was the only thing he could ask for. "Go ahead, then. An hour in the Earth Room. I'll come get you when your time is up."
As Capa slipped into the room, letting the sound of the birds and the water take him away, he couldn't help but smile just a little. Whatever he and Mace were doing, he wasn't sure he would consider it trying, but if it satisfied Searle, he would let the psych officer believe that it was an attempt at some kind of reconciliation.
*
"I'm supposed to apologize for smashing your face into the wall," Mace grunted, standing awkwardly in the door of the observation room. With his hands curled over the sides of the frame, his gaze down at the floor, he looked more uncomfortable and uncertain than Capa had ever seen him.
"Searle asked you to apologize?" he asked, tearing his gaze away from Mace with some effort and looking back through the window. The sun was getting larger every day.
"Yeah. Why the hell did you tell him that I did that?" Mace asked, but he didn't sound angry. Just faintly embarrassed and irritated that he had to do something as ridiculous as apologize. "Does he know about all the other times we've gotten into fights?"
"I don't think so," Capa answered. "Does that matter?"
"I want to know just how many times he expects me to apologize over the next few weeks," Mace answered, still staring at the ground. Rocking back and forth slowly, he frowned, not saying anything else before he let out a sigh and looked up at Capa.
"Was that the apology?" Capa asked, trying not to grin.
"Yeah," Mace mumbled.
"I guess I accept."
"Good," Mace said, then rocked back on his heels again. "You're an asshole."
Capa let out a sharp, surprised laugh, then shook his head. "This is a fucking joke."
Mace didn't ask him to clarify and Capa didn't offer an explanation, just watched as the sun grew closer and closer to their ship. One day, sooner than they would realize, they'd see Mercury passing over the surface, circling across the sun on its orbit, a dark spot on the bright flame, and Capa knew when that day came, they'd be closer than ever to not going home.
"Mace, you should come by again," Capa said after a long silence, but when he turned and glanced over his shoulder, Mace was gone. For how long, Capa didn't know. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to ask Mace to visit his bunk again.
*
In the end, he didn't need to ask.
Four nights later, Capa woke as the door of his bunk first slid open and then closed.
"Two years, huh?" Mace asked, standing near the door, the light from the hall casting him into a silhouette.
"What?" Capa asked, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, wondering what he'd missed. Two years. What had been two years?
"Since you last got laid," Mace said, his voice sounding a little strangled, like he was embarrassed and maybe something else.
"Oh," Capa said, then blinked, nodding as he sat up. "Well, longer now. Two years when we left Earth. I guess over three years now."
"Doesn't it bug you?" Mace asked. If there had been room in the bunk to pace, Capa suspected Mace would have started then. As it was, his hands twisted uncomfortably before he forced himself to put them down by his sides.
"Not having sex?" Capa asked, then shook his head. "No. I guess I don't think about it all that much. Not with all the work I have to do here."
"It bugs me," Mace muttered, leaning against the wall for a moment before he sighed and sat down on the edge of Capa's bed.
"It bugs you that I haven't had sex in three years," Capa repeated slowly, knowing he was probably misunderstanding what Mace was trying to say, but still needing to make sure.
"Don't be an asshole now," Mace instructed quietly. "I don't want to ruin our moment by punching you in the mouth."
Capa's lips twitched into a faint smile, but he said nothing.
Even a month ago, Capa would have been surprised by the gentle pressure of Mace's hand on his leg, but now he almost expected it. Their lives were coming to an end, of this they were certain. It was a fact they accepted, both resolved to fulfill their requirements regardless of their own lives. And maybe it was because of this that Capa wasn't at all surprised. What did surprise him, if anything, was the lightness of the touch as Mace's hand slid higher, fingers ghosting over the sheet that covered Capa's thigh. Unlike everything else that existed between them, it wasn't rough or aggressive, it was just a touch.
With the exception of their fights, Capa hadn't touched someone willingly in more than a year.
When Mace kissed him, Capa's breath escaped in a warm, nervous laugh, a shiver racing up the length of his body in response to Mace's mouth. Capa had kissed men before, a few times during college; during the few parties he'd gone to and once in the lab he had spent almost all his time in. The last kiss had ended with a few fumbling touches, the press of the other student's erection against his leg and an awkward, uncomfortable goodbye when they pulled apart. Nothing had ever come of it, but it hadn't felt quite this easy.
Kissing Mace was like fighting with him; simple and straightforward and honest. Neither of them cared about the romance or the conventions of what they were supposed to do. They just knew what they wanted and when Mace shifted, getting his knees up onto the bed, Capa leaned back and welcomed him. Briefly, he fought with the sheet, kicking it down as far as he could and then his hands found Mace's shoulders, fingers curling over warm, smooth skin. Then Mace was settling onto him, straddling his hips and any thoughts of how Mace's skin felt under his fingers fled Capa's mind.
Three years had never seemed quite so long until Mace was sitting in his lap.
Like a slap, the memory of his dream about Mace's hands rocked Capa and he groaned, pushing up toward them hopefully. Mace slid them under the hem of his shirt, long fingers splayed over Capa's thin ribs and for a moment, he couldn't move. He was frozen under that touch, remembering the dream, remembering the way Mace's hands had traced rough patterns down his body. At the time he hadn't even known what he'd wanted, but now it didn't matter. Now it was clear.
Searle would be proud, Capa thought, then grinned as he kissed Mace harder and began to tug at the material of his shirt.
It came off without a second thought, white cotton discarded on the floor beside the bed and Capa's shirt went next, getting lost between the pillows and the sheet. Mace was laughing softly, breathlessly, his stubble scraping Capa's cheek as his mouth moved, discovering the line of Capa's jaw. Reaching up with one hand, Capa tangled his fingers in Mace's hair just for something to hold onto as his hips bucked up, seemingly of their own will. It felt dangerously, perfectly, like all his control was gone.
"Lie down," Mace murmured against Capa's throat, his breath hot against his skin. Capa shivered again as his free hand traveled the expanse of Mace's back, tracing warm skin and strong muscles. "Christ," Mace said, laughing. "Lie down, asshole, or this isn't going to work the way either of us want it to."
It was difficult, pushing down on the bed, especially since Mace was unable to stop kissing Capa, but they managed. Capa stretched out on the small bunk, kicking the sheet off the bed entirely, and Mace settled on top of him, a knee between his legs, a warm, heavy presence that Capa wanted to arch up and rub against, but managed to ignore.
For a moment they froze, Capa's hands against the hem of Mace's sweatpants, Mace breathing hard over Capa's cheekbone and they hovered there just long enough for Capa to feel impatient and needy. Then Mace was arching down against his body, rubbing their hips together as he let out a soft, shuddering breath against Capa's cheek. A soft groan escaped one of them, but Capa couldn't even be sure who it was anymore, not when their breath was mingling and their moans were rising and falling with every movement.
"Fuck," Mace groaned and his hand clenched involuntarily in Capa's hair, squeezing to the point of pain before he let go.
They were rocking against each other, sweat dappling the skin of Capa's forehead, the skin between his shoulder blades growing damp as he groaned and clutched at Mace. Whatever Searle had wanted from them, Capa was sure it wasn't this, but it was exactly the right thing. Exactly the right kind of connection for two people on a suicide mission. The end of their world was coming, one way or another, and Capa didn't care anymore about what he should and shouldn't do. He wanted this and he was going to have it and, truly, finally, it didn't matter.
"Christ, Capa, get..." But Mace couldn't finish. Instead, his hand fell to Capa's hip, rolling down the hem of his sweatpants, trying to get them off without having to move. The elastic caught on Capa's hip and Mace groaned in frustration, breathing hard and hot against Capa's throat as he tipped his head down and tried to watch what he was doing.
"Mace," Capa breathed, wriggling under him slowly. With what felt like a great effort, he managed to push both hands down to his pants, sliding out of them as quickly as he possibly could. When he realized that Mace was doing the same - that he was missing out on helping Mace get undressed - he gave another groan, both of impatience and disappointment.
"Please."
It was the first time Capa had ever heard Mace use that word. Uttered so breathlessly, it almost entirely undid Capa and a strangled moan escaped him as he finally felt warm skin pressed to his own. Whatever Mace was begging for, Capa would be more than happy to give it if he could just have another moment with that delicious friction, the slide of Mace's cock against the jut of his hip. Against him, Mace felt shaky, like he'd lost all his strength and Capa wasn't sure he could entirely blame him. Even with the bed under his back, supporting him and holding him up, he felt almost like he would collapse at any moment.
Above him, Mace hesitated and it only occurred to Capa in that moment that it was possible - no, it was likely - that Mace had never done this before. It was likely Capa was the first. When he opened his mouth to ask, Mace just shook his head, telling him not to say anything that might turn this moment into just another fight, because it always seemed possible between them, anger and violence hovering right at the edges of even their most calm interactions. And this was anything but calm.
Mace kissed him again, fitting his knee between Capa's legs at the same time, almost as an offering. Feeling Mace's fingers fist in his hair, Capa lifted his entire body, pressing into both the touch and the kiss, his lips parting, breath heavy in Mace's mouth. The hesitation was gone. They both groaned, arching and pressing against each other, sweat collecting between them as they rubbed impatiently, trying to find some kind of release.
When Capa came, he went silent and stiff, his mouth falling open as a long, shuddering breath escaped. Both his hands clenched tightly, one in Mace's hair, the other at his hip, hanging onto the other man's body as he rode it out, shaking with every wave of pleasure. Just as he began to regain some kind of control over himself, Mace pushed down hard, rubbing against his hip and then he groaned, long and low, his lips against Capa's ear. Warmth spread between their bodies and Capa could feel Mace's muscles twitching, sparks and currents going off all over and it was the most out of control Capa had ever seen Mace.
With a soft noise, Mace pressed his face into the curve of Capa's throat, proving once again that he could continually surprise the other man. It wasn't exactly affection, but it was close, and Capa's hand slid free of Mace’s hair, dropping down to curl around the back of his neck. They lay like that for a long time, both trying to catch their breath, bodies cooling, sweat drying and heart rates finally returning to normal. Then, without a word, Mace kissed Capa once, hard, and got up off the bed.
Dressing quickly, he didn't even look over his shoulder when he left the bunk.
*
It made things easier. Capa didn't fully understand why, but he accepted that it did. He still wasn't comfortable with everyone and he still spent too much time - according to Searle, anyway - working on the payload, but it made things easier. His chess games with Kaneda became a sort of habit, played out once or twice a week in the loading dock, the only place they could find some peace and quiet long enough to get a game under their belts.
Capa had to let the captain win now and then.
Cassie seemed to sense something was different and although she'd begun to come to his bunk again, she didn't press for things that Capa wouldn't or couldn't give. It was because of Mace or because Cassie had backed off that he finally told her what he dreamed about.
"The surface of the sun?" she asked one night, the corners of her mouth lifting very slightly.
Capa nodded, leaning back against the wall in his bunk. "Most nights," he admitted softly. Some nights, the ones when Mace came to him, were dreamless. But most nights he still dreamed of plummeting to the surface of the sun, charbroiling in the flames he'd been sent to save.
Cassie nodded as well, turning away from him a little, looking out into the hall. Someone's shadow moved, paused, then walked on and Capa wondered if Mace had been there. He wondered if Mace knew that Cassie still came to his bunk to talk.
"I have bad dreams," she said, then stood and smiled very faintly. "That's why I don't sleep very often."
"You didn't have to tell me," Capa said gently.
"I know," Cassie replied. "But I told you that I would when you told me what you dreamed of." Then, in silence, she watched Capa, studying him closely, as if the expression on his face would tell her everything she wanted to know. "What changed?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean what changed? In you. Something changed in the past few weeks and you're..." But Cassie trailed off, seemingly unable to find the word she was looking for.
"I guess I just realized how close we are," Capa said. "To the end of it all."
"The mission, you mean," Cassie offered.
Smiling sadly, Capa nodded his agreement, although even that was a lie. "To the end of the mission," he said and it was never more apparent to him than in that moment that he and Mace were different people than the others.
*
In a shadowed, secluded corner near the payload, Mace groaned, pushing against Capa harder. Their hands roamed, pushing under shirts and down the backs of pants, belts undone and hanging loose. Capa's sneakers slid onto the floor and Mace laughed breathlessly, keeping him from falling completely, bonelessly to the ground.
Mace's hand was shoved down the front of Capa's pants, jerking him slowly inside his boxers and although Capa could hear the soft sound of Mace's laugh and he could feel the warmth of his breath against his throat, it felt like he was somewhere else entirely. Soon enough, it would be gone. All of this would be gone.
"God," he breathed out as his body shuddered and Mace grinned against the curve of his shoulder.
*
"You seem more present lately," Searle commented as Capa took a seat beside him in the observation room. "Icarus, dial it down a little. We know our Doctor Capa has sensitive skin."
"Yes, Searle," the computer answered promptly and the room grew a little darker, enough so that Capa could lift his eyes from the floor and actually look through the window as the sun grew larger.
"Do I?" Capa asked, wondering what the sun would look like in a month. Just one more month and they would be there. Time was running short and he felt both anxious and nervous, knowing he still couldn't quantify what might happen to the bomb once they released it. He wished he could figure it out. He wished he had more time.
"Within the past several months, yes," Searle said. "Something appears to have gotten through to you."
Capa's shoulders lifted and he frowned, still looking out at the sun. The surface glowed bright through the blackened, dying parts, still burning, still living. If it would live for just a little while longer, Capa knew they could complete their mission and bring it back.
"I can't explain it," he said finally. "Nothing has changed."
"You and Mace aren't friends?" Searle asked.
"Mace and I can barely be in the same room together without a fight breaking out," Capa pointed out. It wasn't the entire truth, but he and Mace hadn't exactly begun to have their murmured conversations in public and he doubted they ever would. What existed between them existed only between them and even then, it wasn't clear to Capa what it was. It was fighting and fucking and a whispered admission or two in rare moments. Even now, even with the sex, it was more of a fight than anything and somehow that was a comfort.
"He seems to be getting worse," Searle acknowledged, frowning as well, his gaze finally drifting forward to the observation window once again. "He's losing track of things, losing track of himself. I'm a little worried, frankly."
"I don't think you're supposed to discuss other patients with me," Capa said. "I think that's looked upon as unethical."
"I'm not talking about Mace as a patient. I'm talking about him as a member of my crew," Searle answered.
"So rather than breaking some kind of oath, it's just idle gossip," Capa muttered dryly, running his hands through his hair before he stood up. "I don't know what's up with Mace. We're not buddies. He's just a guy on the same crew I am."
As Capa left, Searle nodded, mostly to himself. "Icarus, dial down the filter, please."
*
"You ever feel like you're losing track of time out here?" Mace asked, watching as the payload test run lit up the room inside the weapon. A soft smile touched his face as a spark ignited just beyond the window in front of him, flickering and shimmering against the black.
"Don't talk like that around Searle," Capa warned, not knowing how to answer that question. The few conversations they did have were conducted in the privacy of Capa's bunk or the payload, where no one else could see them. The fights were public and common, but this was something between only them. Capa still didn't know what to call it.
"Why not?" Mace asked, reaching out, as if he could touch the flickering light. His hand fell back to his side a moment later and he looked over at Capa curiously. "Did he say something to you?"
"He's worried you can't handle being here," Capa said honestly. "Don't give him a reason to be."
Mace's mouth tightened and he looked away from Capa, back to the light that hung in front of him. "Fuck you, Capa."
Turning, irritated, Capa stared at Mace. "Fuck you," he answered. "I didn't go running to Searle to tell him something was wrong, if that's what you're thinking. He's the one who brought it up. He's under the insane impression you and I are friends."
"Fuck you, Capa," Mace repeated, enunciating each word carefully and clearly, his gaze sharp and angry. As a light danced nearby, shedding light on his face, he watched Capa, waiting for an answer, his expression making it clear that he didn't want to hear one. Then he shook his head, looking disgusted and walked away, the echo of his footsteps on the ramp loud inside the payload.
Mere seconds seemed to have passed before Cassie was there, ringing the buzzer to be let in and Capa sighed before unlocking the door. She came down the ramp, and then came into the room, looking at Capa in concern.
"Are you okay?" she asked, barely glancing at the lights.
It said so much about a person, Capa thought, whether or not they were as taken by the payload as he was.
"I'm fine," he said. "I'm doing a test run, that's all."
"I saw Mace leaving," Cassie continued. "He looked angry."
"When doesn't Mace look angry?" Capa countered, shrugging, unconcerned.
"I thought maybe something had happened," she said, frowning as she studied him. There were no bruises, no physical marks to indicate to her that anything might have occurred between the two of them, but it didn't seem to stop her from looking for evidence.
"Nothing happened," Capa insisted. "Mace just doesn't like me. You know that."
It wasn't as simple as that, not anymore, but Cassie didn't need to know any intricacies of what had made things more complicated. More importantly, Capa didn't want to share them.
"As long as you're okay," she said reluctantly and Capa turned to her, forcing a smile.
"I'm okay," he promised. He wasn't.
*
Seven days sooner than planned, they had nearly reached the dead zone. No radio contact, no way to send or receive messages from home, only the black, the sun and Icarus. During dinner, Harvey delivered the bad news, giving them an approximate time frame during which they had to send messages back home. From under the long fringe of his hair, Mace met Capa's gaze briefly and then looked away. They'd barely spoken in two weeks, which Capa found both insulting and aggravating, although he refused to be the one to make an attempt to apologize.
In the end, there simply wasn't much to say.
"We'll finally be on our own," Cassie murmured.
"We're fifty-five million miles from Earth," Mace answered. "I'd say we're already on our own."
*
Alone in the message room, Capa found there wasn't much to say to those waiting for him back home either. There was no doubt that he loved his family very much; it was for them he was on this mission. The words just didn't matter.
"Okay," Capa murmured, recording the final message. "I'm signing off. And I'll see you in a couple of years."
Even as he said it, it felt like a lie, but there was nothing else he could say. They needed that hope and, even if he had to lie, he would give it to them. Hesitating for only a moment, Capa leaned forward and pressed the button that would send his message back home to his parents, giving them one last visual of their son gone to save mankind.
The weight of that final message surprised Capa and, as he stepped out of the small recording room, he wasn't expecting a physical blow to accompany the emotional punch he was still feeling. Mace grabbed him hard, yanking him into a headlock that immediately cut off his air. Capa's arms swung wildly and he buried his fingers in Mace's hair, not realizing at first what was even going on. They were fighting, as they always were, and Mace was grunting and cursing, squeezing harder and harder until Capa was sure he was going to pass out or die.
"Hey!" Harvey shouted, tearing into the room just as Capa managed to get a better hold on Mace, locking his own arm around Mace's neck.
"Fuck," Mace sputtered, refusing to let go even as Harvey and Trey managed together to pull him off. Capa fell back, breathing hard, recoiling against the control panel as Mace lunged for him, held back only by the two others.
"You fucking son of a bitch," Mace shouted, struggling against Harvey furiously, arms reaching for Capa. "I can't send my package, the wind is too high."
Jesus. That was the problem. Capa had taken too long and now the one person losing track of what he'd left behind couldn't even send a message back home.
"I'm sorry, okay," Capa said, genuinely distressed as Harvey and Trey led Mace away. "I didn't realize I was taking so long."
Even down the hall, he could still hear Mace's curses and his angry grunts as he tried to break free and come after Capa again. For the first time, Capa had to wonder if he didn't deserve every blow, every punch that Mace had landed.
*
It wasn't the Earth Room, but the oxygen garden was quiet and green and peaceful, and Capa was sure Cassie wouldn't come find him there. At a table, he worked quietly on the plants Corazon had given him, repotting, planting, moving dirt from one pot to another, until he could feel the muscles in his shoulders protesting all the movement. Still he worked, trying to block the memories of earlier, trying to come to some kind of acceptance about the rest of the mission.
The end was looming now, getting closer every day.
When he saw Mace coming, Capa cringed and turned away, wishing he could escape without making it look like he was trying to run. It wasn't going to happen, though, not when Mace could see him and not when Mace was clearly heading straight for him, so Capa drew in a breath and prepared himself for what he knew he had to say.
"Mace, I'm sorry," he said, even though Mace was already talking over him. "I should've let you go-"
"Listen, Capa, before you say anything. Capa," Mace tried to interrupt, his voice growing sharp. "Capa, it's me. I'm the one apologizing, alright?"
Taking a breath, Capa looked down at the table in front of him and nodded. "Alright."
It was more than just an apology for the fight and for taking too long. It was for that reason that Capa was unable to look up until Mace had been standing silently for a long time. It was too familiar and he smiled just slightly, then asked, "Was that the apology?"
"Yeah," Mace snapped, pushing back from the table awkwardly.
Capa nodded. "Consider it accepted."
"Okay." Mace nodded as well, then turned and left the room, his back to Capa, but it felt different this time. It was better, somehow, just with those words. An apology that, on the surface, was just for one incident, but meant more. It wasn't quite a peace offering, but it was something.
*
Within five hours, Mace's hair was cut, the beard shaved, and he was standing against the far wall of Capa's bunk, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Capa knew it would appear to Searle that something had gone right, that perhaps the time in the Earth Room had given Mace perspective, but he knew what it really was. He knew that the last vestiges of hope, had Mace ever really had them, had fallen away.
"Feeling better?" Capa asked, raking his hair away from his face with one hand.
Mace crossed the room and caught Capa's face between his hands in response, pressing their mouths together in a hard, hot kiss. Their shifts were over; the others were either sleeping or on the flight deck and the only glow in the bunk was the soft illumination from the lights that lined the floor of the hall outside. Coming together, Mace's hands on Capa's face, Capa's hands gripping for hair that was no longer there, they moved toward the bunk, tripping over themselves in their haste.
Capa didn't waste the opportunity this time and when Mace fell back slightly, his hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up and over his head. His hands smoothed over Mace's shoulders, down his arms and before he could even get his own t-shirt off entirely, Mace was kissing him again, desperately, frantically, pouring everything into it that he'd been trying to deal with for months now.
Months in the dark black of space with nothing but stardust, strapped to the back of a bomb the size of Manhattan. It was a wonder they hadn't all gone completely insane.
"We can do this," Mace murmured against the line of Capa's throat, teeth scraping over skin as he gave a soft, needy groan. Fingertips grazed down Capa's sides, skimming over the ridges of his ribs before both of Mace's hands anchored themselves on Capa's hips and dragged their bodies together. They found a wall, used it as support for a moment, rubbing hard against each other as Mace muttered words absently against Capa's skin.
"We can do this," he repeated, a hand finally falling to the front of Capa's pants, opening them quickly and expertly and Capa had to wonder just how many times Mace had undone his own pants one handed to be so damn good at it now. "Right? We can do this."
"We have to," Capa panted, his head falling back, eyes closed.
Shoving away from the wall, pushing them toward the bed, Mace found Capa's mouth with his own. Speaking against his lower lip, he murmured, "Why do we have to?"
For a moment, Capa couldn't respond. He hit the bed with a groan and Mace's hands worked quickly, pushing down the rough material of his pants, kicking off his own shoes in a hurry. Within moments, Mace was lying on his back on the bed, his pants half undone and around his knees, struggling to get them off even as he waited for an answer.
"Because," Capa said, dragging his gaze up from Mace's chest to his face, meeting his eyes. "It's what we're here for."
They hovered there on the edge of something, Mace's chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. For a second, he seemed like he was about to say something. Then, without a word, he was kicking his pants off the rest of the way, his legs spreading as he grabbed for Capa greedily, fingers curling over his slim wrists and pulling him down. Groaning, Mace nipped sharply at Capa's shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine and he couldn't help but laugh softly as he pushed a hand down between their bodies.
Under him, Mace tensed, his heels digging into the sheets as he tried to push up toward the touch. With someone else, with a woman maybe, Capa would have taken his time, but he wasn't with someone else and he wasn't here to waste time. Not when they had so little of it left.
Wrapping long fingers around Mace's cock, Capa's hand moved slowly at first, lifting his hips so he could move his hand more freely. Beneath him, Mace's body tensed again, muscles pulling tight as his head fell back onto Capa's pillow, a low groan building in his chest. As he arched, he exposed the long line from his chest to his jaw and Capa leaned in again, his hand working over Mace, his lips and tongue tracing up and across soft, warm skin.
"Fuck, Capa," Mace moaned and both his hands clenched in the sheets under his body, pulling at them as if they could anchor him to the bed. With an effort, he lifted one hand and fumbled blindly between them, his hand touching Capa's fingers first and then trying to guide him.
It took a moment for Capa to understand what he wanted, but then he felt the length of Mace's dick pressing against his own and he groaned in understanding. Releasing his hold on Mace, he shifted, and then wrapped his hand around the two of them, holding himself up with one arm and slowly jerking them both with the other. His arm trembled and Mace reached up, having communicated what he wanted, and held onto Capa's shoulder, supporting him as best he could. His feet slipped, skidding on the sheets as he tried to press up, body bowing, back arching into the sweat-slicked grip of Capa's hand.
All through it, Capa was silent save for the gasping, panting breaths he kept trying to drag in. It was Mace who groaned and threw back his head. It was Mace whose mouth fell open as Capa's hand squeezed tighter, pressing their dicks together, and let out a soft, low cry. Somehow, lost in it all, Capa could still take it in, could still hear every breath or murmur of pleasure, could still see every time the crease between Mace's brows deepened as he pushed up, seeking more.
In his hand, Capa felt Mace's cock twitch and then Mace moaned, loud enough to be heard in the hall should anyone be passing, but Capa couldn't care. All he wanted was to continue pushing into the circle of his fist, warmth and wetness spreading over his skin as Mace came, his breath catching and another long groan escaping. Unexpectedly, Mace opened his eyes as he struggled to regain his breath and caught Capa's gaze. Pinned under it, Capa nearly stopped, but then his hips pushed forward hard and as his dick slid through his fingers and against Mace's stomach, he came with a startled noise.
Slowly rolling off Mace, Capa flipped onto his back and stared up at the low ceiling of his bunk as he panted softly, his hand resting against the inside of Mace's thigh. Unlike the first time and most of the times in between, Mace didn't immediately climb off the bed and begin to get dressed. He lay back in the bunk, sweaty sheets tangled around his feet and he kicked at them absently as his breathing slowed. Turning his head against the pillow, he looked at Capa.
"It's what we’re here for," he said and it took Capa a moment to remember what he was talking about. "That's it. We're here for the mission."
"We're here for the mission," Capa agreed quietly, reaching up to push damp, tangled curls off his forehead.
"So don't fuck it up," Mace warned, even as he smiled very faintly and looked up at the ceiling of the bunk as well. He looked relaxed, more in tune with everything around them than Capa had ever seen and, as before, he understood that Mace hadn't gotten better, according to Searle's definition of such. He'd gotten worse. He'd gotten further away from others and even from Capa himself. The only thing he'd gotten closer to was the mission.
"When the time comes, Capa, don't fuck it up," he continued. "Anything you need to do... anyone you need to leave behind... just do it."
"It'll get done," Capa promised and they both fell silent.
When he shifted, finally, and found Mace's eyes closed, Capa frowned very faintly, wondering if he had fallen asleep. It wasn't until he'd propped himself up on one elbow and was looking down at Mace that the corners of Mace's mouth turned up slightly.
"I'm not spending the night, Capa, don't worry," he said.
With a laugh, Capa rolled onto his back again. It was so fucked up. It was all so fucked up.
"Do you remember what you said to me about the others thinking about what they'll do when they get home?" Capa asked suddenly and from beside him, Mace nodded. "You never think about that? Not even in passing? Not even for a moment?"
Mace said nothing for a long time and then asked, "Do you?"
"No. Rarely. Once I thought about what it would be like to see my sister's kids again," Capa admitted quietly. "They'd be a lot older. I wondered what they'd look like." There was silence and then, "You didn't answer my question. Have you ever thought about it?"
Mace smiled, soft and genuine, and said, "No."
*
Knowing it was coming didn't make it any easier, Capa realized as he huddled in the airlock, shivering violently from blood loss, listening to Mace call for him. There was something inherently more powerful in understanding someone than there was in simple friendship, he discovered, and he knew Mace was dying. He knew they were both dying and everyone else, if they weren't already long gone, they would be dead within minutes.
"Capa, my leg," Mace groaned over the intercom, his voice so close to disappearing altogether. So weak, nothing like Capa had ever heard from him before. Anyone you need to leave behind... just do it.
"Do it, Capa. Do it."
And then there was nothing. Just an order to separate the payload from the ship, an order to send the bomb straight into the sun and save the world. Not another word, not another breath, just silence from Mace's end and Capa stared at the headpiece in his hand, willing it to make some sort of noise. He drew in a soft, shuddering breath.
"Mace?" he asked softly, but Mace was gone.
In another room in another compartment of the ship, Mace lay frozen and dead on the floor, coolant pooling around him. A broken connection, nothing more.
There was nothing and Capa remembered how little it all mattered in the end if he didn't get the payload to the sun. If he couldn't detonate the bomb, it was all just a waste.
Do it.
*
The payload tumbled toward the sun and Capa stood in the centre of his weapon and watched as the lights sparked into life around him. Twinkling, shimmering, the Stellar Bomb did her work and Capa watched in awe, smiling unconsciously at the spectacle of light. For an instant, the weapon was bathed in white light and then the surface of the sun came rushing toward him, hot and bright and orange and Capa closed his eyes, waiting for it to take him. The heat touched him and he laughed, opening his eyes once more to see what the end would look like.
Searle would have appreciated it. Maybe Cassie would have as well, but Capa wasn't thinking of either of them as he watched the bright light overtake the weapon.
He wished, briefly, that Mace could have seen this. It was the most beautiful thing Capa had ever seen in his life, a series of reactions and connections, each sparking off the next, reigniting the sun, bringing the world back to life. It worked exactly as it was supposed to and Capa reached out to touch it, fingers dipping into the fire that would keep his world from dying.
It finally wasn't a dream and Capa wasn't afraid.