Chapter Text
To be fair, it had been kind of funny.
“Move aside Captain, let the real soldiers do the work. If we need the fun removing from the situation, we'll call you.”
Pierce’s delivery had been perfect, and Vette's sudden bark of laughter was the icing on the cake.
A year ago, Ven'fir would have been laughing with them.
Now, he was watching how Captain Quinn's mouth was thin, his jaw was tense, and his gloved hands clenched.
Since their the events that had bloomed into revelation and paved the way for their mutual agreement to give whatever was between them a go, he found that he was far more in tune with the man’s body language than he had realised.
Ven'fir had always been talented with Force signatures, but he needn’t have been to sense the proverbial pot boiling over. The Captains aura was wound tight like a spool of razor wire, and the curl of his lip told Ven'fir that he was about to snap something cutting at Pierce.
Malavai was not a particularly emotional man, nor was he known for his outbursts. One or two tactless jokes would not have ruffled his feathers, but the constant stream of snide, mocking comments from people he couldn’t escape from was taking its toll on his impressive patience.
Ven'fir stepped smoothly in. “Pierce, if you’re calling for your ships medic in the middle of a mission, I suspect that the fun is already long gone.” He pointed out with a raised brow, challenging.
Pierce grunted and began checking his gear.
Vette shrugged and turned to leave. The moment was broken, the tension seeping out of the air like atmo from a broken air-lock seal.
He looked over, and his Captain was still tense, his hands clenched so tightly his gloves strained.
Are you okay? Would likely net him nothing more than a snippy, terse response, as would all the other meaningless platitudes people liked to say.
He wasn’t sure how to approach this, only knowing that he needed to.
“Thank you.” He went with instead.
Malavai looked confused as he glanced over, his face drawn and pinched.
“My lord?” he questioned, cautious. Ven'fir ignored the stab of guilt and hurt that the caution gave him.
“You didn’t have to prepare such an in-depth briefing for them.” He pointed out. “But you did.”
Malavai sighed. “I regret bothering.” He murmured, sour.
Ven'fir chanced laying a hand on the humans shoulder and was rewarded when his hands relaxed and some of the tension released from his posture.
“I appreciated it.” He said honestly. “They should too. They’ll regret not listening when they’re in a snowstorm and they can’t remember if the caves are dangerous or not.”
Malavai smiled, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling as he did so. It was a small thing, reserved and rare, and Ven'fir wanted to guard it jealously.
“I suppose I should be on standby for an emergency holo, then.” The Captain said with a tired smile.
Ven’fir grinned. “Just imagine how smug you’ll get to be when they do call.”
Malavai’s smile widened, eyes soft and amused. “Silver lining, I suppose.”
Warmth blooming in his chest, Ven'fir stepped close and, registering the sharp mistake of breath from his officer, pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.
The skin under his lips was rough and prickly from carefully maintained stubble, but Malavai was warm and he wasn’t pulling away.
When Ven'fir finally stepped back, he could feel the aura at the edge of his senses, no longer a ball of wire and blades, but something softer instead, if no less tangled.
A ball of yarn maybe, a few needles hidden in soft strands.
Shelving that thought, he aimed a smile at his Captain.
“Thanks again.” He said simply and took his leave.
As he headed towards the bridge, he felt the aura behind him bubble with something bright and warm, and he wanted to grin like a giddy child.
He wasn’t optimistic enough to believe that the situation wouldn’t happen again. There would be more snide remarks and pedantic comments designed to inspire laughter at another’s expense. A year ago, he would have been laughing too, oblivious to anything but his own amusement.
Now, the thought made him sick with guilt.
Baby steps were still movements in the right direction.
Sometimes, all that was needed was a ‘thank you’.