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Zrrn buzzed, his leathery wings twitching. His four arms gesticulated toward the dance floor, where a crowd of mixed origins danced to the band’s beat.

“Mind if I dance with our friend?” Cal asked.

“Uh—sure, go ahead.” Roy shrugged.

On the dance floor, Cal seemed as at ease as in the pilot seat. Zrrn twirled him around, then pressed two arms on Cal’s waist, the claws catching on to the jumpsuit’s purple fabric. The insectoid’s upper left arm landed on Cal’s shoulder, while the right hand wrapped around Cal’s palm.

This was his natural habitat. Chatting with guests of all possible origins, entertaining important visitors. Luxury banquets and fluffy beds in his palace.

Not Roy’s menial job full of seaweed and sleeping in old cryopods.

He downed his mead, watching the dancers sway. When the song ended, Cal took a deep bow, and Zrrn mirrored it. Running a hand through his damp waves, Cal sauntered back to their table and grabbed his pint.

“I’ve never felt so alive,” he breathed out, his mead nearly gone.

“You must miss this.” Elbows propped against the table, Roy jerked his head toward the dance floor.

“Huh? Oh. No, I didn’t really have this at home. We could only dance standard ballroom. If my dance teacher saw me now, she would’ve exploded.” He laughed deep from his chest, wiping his forehead with the hem of his sleeve. “I suppose there’s no way I would talk you into dancing?”

Roy crossed his arms. “Absolutely none.”

“Aw. You should try it sometimes. Dancing is a powerful weapon both in business and in love.”

Chuckling into his empty pint, Roy wrapped an arm around Cal’s waist and pulled him closer. “Is it? I think I’m doing just fine.”

“No doubt,” Cal whispered. Their noses brushed, breaths mingled. “But you know… a single dance almost crumbled our Empire.”

“A single dance,” Roy echoed, eyebrow cocked.

“Surely you’ve heard about the scandal before the imperial wedding.”

“Nah,” Roy lied. Of course he’d heard—Milo had subscribed to all the lifestyle streams. There had been no escape.

“Well, rumour has it that on that night, the future Emperor Consort danced with the future Lord Commander and disappeared into his chambers for the night.” After a loud slurp, Cal continued. “Some say the Emperor—well, Crown Prince, back then—wept for three days and three nights. Then summoned Davie and begged on his knees for his betrothed’s love.”

A scoff clawed out of Roy’s throat. “What is even so special about that guy?”

“You’d have to meet him, I guess,” Cal shrugged. “He was—he is so full of energy. You could talk to him about the most boring thing in the world, and he would still find a way to get everyone excited about it. Great skill for diplomacy, you know? I do worry now, though. It feels like a storm’s gathering.”

Roy’s eyes flicked to the windows, but he couldn’t spot a single raindrop—just a thick pollen haze outside. “Huh?”

“Hurting Davie was, in fact, an act of war,” Cal murmured. “We just don’t know who did it. Once the Emperor finds out… I’m afraid he won’t be merciful. Or rational.”

Heaviness settled in Roy’s chest. Perhaps the alarms would echo again sooner rather than later—the screech of the bugle, repeated four times. The universal signal for all young male-identifying individuals to get their ass to the sign-up point. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.” Cal exhaled and set his empty cup down. “But we can’t do anything about that. Let’s pay and go back to the ship?”

“I thought you were too young to sleep before midnight,” Roy mused. His thoughts tangled when Cal’s forefinger hooked on his collar, tugging on his necklace.

Cal raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

Their yellow flyvan was parked in a half-empty dock. Some of the ships had their lights on, seeping through the viewports. The first thing that Roy did once they managed to stumble inside the ship was close the shutter and gain privacy from the occasional insectoids patrolling the runway.

“Need you,” Cal exhaled, fingers dipped into Roy’s curls. “Now.”

“Working on it.” Roy grinned against those demanding lips. He’d learned the jumpsuit’s buckles and zippers by heart—his hands shot to the right places, removing it without hesitation.

Cal’s sudden initiative caught Roy off guard. His hands trembled, but he peeled Roy’s shirt off with a determined, focused frown. And even more unexpectedly, he dropped to his knees to unbuckle Roy’s belt.