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Decklan

Breakfast consisted of chocolate-chip pancakes and a bowl of warm, lightly sweetened oatmeal--evidently a compromise between Jamey and Safrilly--along with fresh-cut fruit and milk from the fridge.

Marley was drawn out of his room by the smell of the pancakes, and they all sat down for breakfast together for the first time in days. Jamey perched himself at the very end of the semi-circle booth, directly opposite Decklan, but he avoided Decklan's gaze easily, dividing his attention between his breakfast and Safrilly.

After a few minutes of this, Marley caught Decklan's eye and raised his eyebrows in a question. Decklan just spooned himself some oatmeal. Jamey was more perceptive than Marley seemed to realize; there was no chance of any extended communication going unnoticed right under his nose, no matter how silent.

Jamey relaxed slowly as the meal progressed. He never looked at Decklan, but he allowed Safrilly to draw him out of his shell with her non-stop stream of light-hearted chatter, and eventually he even said a few quiet, measured words to Marley, though he seemed to lean in to the buffer Safrilly provided between him and the rest of the table.

Not for the first time, Decklan reflected on who would choose to go through the VDA's pet program--what kind of fur would choose not just to live as a full-time submissive, but to be matched with a patron, a fur with an excess of funds and a probable dearth of social skills or time to devote to a partner.

Safrilly presented herself as silly and girlish, even a little selfish, but that impression was belied by the true impact of her behavior: she had a deft touch in bringing people together, in being cheerfully gregarious without ever pushing boundaries. Decklan had plenty of experience with furs who thought their juvenile behavior was cute, and they rarely had even half the charm of Safrilly. It spoke to the profound depth of her emotional intelligence and empathy.

And he had glimpsed the same traits in Jamey. Not that they were identical--Jamey was clearly much more at home with one person than in a group--but he had made some remarkably astute observations about Decklan, and seemed incredibly aware of and eager to respect Decklan's privacy. Decklan was becoming more and more certain that there was a very sensitive and kind heart in Jamey, one that had been buried under decades of adaptation to mistreatment that he never should have had to endure.

Jamey glanced up from his near-empty plate and met Decklan's gaze briefly but pointedly, before looking down again with a shy flick of his ears. Decklan realized that he'd been staring at Jamey for much too long.

He looked down at his oatmeal and finished it quickly, then stood and returned his bowl to the dirty dishes slot in the machine before making his way back to the pilot's controls.

The others finished breakfast and then cleaned up, talking easily about some web-show that Safrilly had started watching. Decklan focused on the screen in front of him and the notebook at his paw, writing down what he would need to re-stock the PENNY at their pit-stop. When Jamey and Safrilly returned to the common room and then--based on the drift of their voices--to Jamey's room together, Marley hung back, wiping down the table and washing his paws. Then he came up behind Marley and stood quietly. Waiting, Decklan realized, to not interrupt him.

Decklan dropped his pen onto the notebook and cleared his throat. "We should reach Lambda-Chi station tomorrow for refuel and resupply."

"That's good. Safrilly will want to get off the ship and have a look around," Marley said, and Decklan spun his chair to face the stoat and grunted in agreement. Then Marley said, "what about Jamey? Will he want to stretch his legs?"

Decklan's first instinct was to deny that he'd have any idea what Jamey wanted. But that was ridiculous. Jamey's behavior all morning had practically telegraphed that something had changed between them, and Marley clearly wasn't here to scold him for it. They'd talked about this, planned for it. Decklan just wasn't used to his private life being this...exposed.

Really, he wasn't used to having a private life to expose.

"I don't think he'd like saying behind on his own," Decklan said finally. "Especially if Safrilly's going out. But..." he hesitated. It wouldn't be quite right to say that Jamey wasn't ready to leave the ship, but it still felt soon. "It might not be easy for him."

Marley sighed. "I think you're right. But if he wants to come, we can't ground him to the ship." Decklan grunted. After a moment, Marley asked, "did you do a scene with him?"

Decklan felt a flush creep up the back of his neck, and was glad his fur mostly hid it. "Sort of. Last night, so he could sleep."

"Did it go well?"

Decklan just nodded. Marley smiled, sharp and quick, but was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"I know there must be some challenges there for you. There's no sexual attraction between Safrilly and me, so it's easy to focus on her needs. But you--"

Decklan growled at that, a low rumble that silenced the stoat immediately. "If you don't trust me, then say so."

"Of course I trust you, Decklan," Marley said, looking surprised. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?" Decklan demanded. Most furs would take a step back if he looked at them the way he was looking at Marley; Marley remained where he was, one hip cocked against the curved edge of the pilot's desk, unruffled.

"I'm asking how you're doing. If you're okay." Marley's mouth pulled up into a wry half-smile. "I don't expect you to suddenly open up, but I want you to know that if there's something you want to talk about, I'm here. You don't need to suffer in silence."

That shut down Decklan's glower fast, leaving him embarrassed. He huffed and then nodded his understanding.

Marley's smile turned into something that wasn't quite gentle--all of his expressions were a little too sharp to be gentle--but was at least understanding. "I've worked with the VDA for years now, you know, and I was a professional dom on my own for over a decade before that. I understand the toll it can take, emotionally, to have a platonic relationship with a sub who you're attracted to. It can leave you feeling used, it can hit your sense of self-worth." He moved his paw further down the desk, nearer to Decklan, like he wanted to pat Decklan on the arm or the paw but knew Decklan wouldn't particularly appreciate it. "I don't want to see that happen to you, even for the sake of helping Jamey."

Decklan rubbed the back of his neck with his claws, then shook his head. "I don't feel like that. The way Jamey was..." he paused for a moment, thinking over his words carefully, then said, "he wasn't using me. He was upset.

Marley made a quiet noise of understanding, and then leaned to the side to hook a chair from nearby--one of the utilitarian waiting-room style chairs that Decklan kept on the bridge--and dragged it over so he could sit down, elbow resting on the desk, chin in hand. "He was upset when he came to you? Or afterwards?"

"When he went under." Decklan glanced towards the entrance to the living quarters, very aware of Jamey's presence just one closed door away. Marley followed his gaze and then gave him an understanding look.

"You don't have to give me any details. I'm not surprised, though." He tapped his sharp little claws on Decklan's desk. "Our body stores emotions, stores trauma, in ways we aren't always consciously aware of--muscle tension, stress chemicals, even the way our nerves are conditioned to respond to certain stimuli. Subspace is a state of radical integration with the body, and those stored traumas can come to the surface."

Decklan nodded slowly, thinking about how he'd first noticed something was wrong when Jamey started shaking. And how much movement there was in his ears and face this morning, a stark contrast to the tight stillness that Jamey had held before. Like what they'd done the night before had forced a factory reset on some of the ways Jamey had taught his body to lie.

The silence between them was easy. Eventually, Decklan asked, "you were a professional dom? Before the VDA?"

Marley let out a surprised chuckle, but didn't look offended. "Yes, for a long time. I suppose you could say it's the bulk of my professional experience." He shrugged. "I mostly saw private clients, but there are some independent videos floating around out there that pre-date my work for the VDA. Less educational than the material I produce with the VDA, if you get me." He winked. "I could find them, if you want to see them."

Decklan grunted in a way he hoped communicated that that wasn't necessary, because he thought he might die of embarrassment if he looked at pornography with another fur in the room, and Marley laughed again. They fell back into another companionable silence.

"I keep thinking," Decklan said, and Marley looked at him. "Why didn't Jamey ever call for help?"

The easy smile slipped from Marley's face and he sighed. "I've been asking myself the same question. I think you might be in the best position to find out, if you wanted to ask him."

***

Jamey

Safrilly dragged Jamey into his bedroom and closed the door behind them, and then went to the media screen in his room to find the show she'd been going on about. Once she got it playing - some sort of low-budget indie series about furs with secret psychic powers--she climbed up on the bed beside him, insinuating herself against him until they were pressed together from hip to shoulder. Then she looked up at him expectantly. "So?"

"So what?" he demanded, ears flicking back.

"You know what." She prodded him in the ribs, and he flashed a bit of tooth in her direction. "Don't make that face. I want details."

Jamey let out a canine grumble, realizing he should've expected this. He'd told Safrilly the bare bones that morning--that he'd let Decklan put him under, that he'd fallen asleep in Decklan's bed--but not much more. It was embarrassing enough that he'd cried all over Decklan and then snuck off in the middle of the night; he didn't want to have to explain that to anyone.

When he didn't say anything, Safrilly sighed noisily. "Okay. What if I ask questions?"

"What if we just watch the show?"

"No. Mr. Prost is talking to Decklan, and it's my job to talk to you. So talk."

Jamey's ears pressed flat to his skull. "What does that mean? What are they talking about?"

"Dom stuff. Mr. Prost is checking with Decklan to make sure that everything went okay."

So Decklan was probably telling him how much it had not gone okay. Telling him that Jamey had freaked out, that he couldn't even settle for a whole night without disappearing. That Jamey was broken.

He started to pull away from Safrilly, but she grabbed him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Whoa, hold on, where do you think you're going?" she demanded, then she looked him in the eye and her expression changed, going worried and sympathetic in a way that just made Jamey feel worse. "Oh, honey, it's okay."

Jamey shook his head. "I should--I have to go apologize." He was embarrassed to hear how his voice shook.

"Apologize? I don't think so. For what?"

He whined low in his throat, and Safrilly squeezed him in response. "I have to, Safrilly, I was--I was a fucking mess. I cried all over him. If he tells Mr. Prost that..." he stopped there, not sure how to articulate what he was afraid of.

But Safrilly was relentless. "If he tells Mr. Prost, then what?" she demanded, not letting up the pressure on his ribs.

"Then...Mr. Prost will know," he said finally, then groaned and buried his face in his paws. "Safrilly. They can't talk about me!"

"Too bad. They're gonna," she said bluntly. Then she sighed and leaned in, brushing her nose over his cheek. "Jamey, it's okay. This isn't about embarrassing you or getting you in trouble."

"Feels like it is," he muttered. She snorted.

"It's not. It's like...do you remember your first month of training at the VDA? When the classes are really small so everyone gets individual attention, and your mentor checks in with you every couple of days?"

Jamey huffed, not really responding, because he wasn't feeling especially cooperative. She flicked the base of one of his ears and he yelped. "Do you remember?" she demanded, and he nodded grudgingly. "Okay. So that's about not letting you fail, right? It's a new environment. It's a lot of pressure. Everyone is there to support you, and to make sure you have help if you feel like you're getting in over your head."

She paused, obviously waiting for a response, so he nodded quickly to avoid any further assault. She nodded back. "That's what this is about. This is a big change for you, and it's not easy--don't look at me like that, it would be hard for anyone--and this is all new to Decklan, too. We're not going to let either of you fail or get hurt by accident."

"Doesn't seem too hard for you," he muttered, extremely aware that he sounded like a sulky child. Safrilly sighed.

"Yeah, well. I only lived in that house for a few weeks. You were there for...a long time."

He grimaced, but didn't argue. He knew how she'd look at him if he tried to say that he'd been fine, that he'd had Brandon under control. He didn't need to see her make that face, he could imagine it well enough.

Besides, there were limits to his denial. He clearly wasn't as fine as he thought. Someone who was fine wouldn't have spent two days hiding in a tiny room and sneaking around the ship to avoid people who didn't mean him any harm.

"I don't like that they're talking about me," he said finally, feeling pathetic. She squeezed him again.

"You don't have any reason to be embarrassed. Do you have any idea how many times I've cried on Mr. Prost these past couple of days?"

"Yeah, well, you're not the first sub Mr. Prost has ever scened with. It must have been pretty disappointing for Decklan's first time."

"He didn't look disappointed at breakfast," Safrilly said, nudging her shoulder into his and wiggling her eyebrows meaningfully. Jamey flushed. She wasn't wrong. He'd tried to avoid catching Decklan's eye that morning, but the few times he had...no. Decklan had not looked disappointed.

"Yeah, well. I'm sure it wasn't what he was imagining."

"Is it ever?" she asked. "The first time I submitted for someone, it wasn't anything like what I imagined. Well," she paused, considering, then said, "the guy I was with at the time had the presence of a wet noodle, so that's probably a bad example. But training at the VDA wasn't what I'd imagined, either, and I loved that."

Jamey gave her a narrow look, then groaned. "I snuck out while he was sleeping, Safrilly. I'm such an asshole."

"Well, again, given how he was looking at you at breakfast--"

"Yeah, okay, I get it."

"Do you want him to put you under again?" she asked. Jamey didn't have to say anything; he knew the flick of his ears and the flush under his fur gave him away. Safrilly grinned. "You like Decklan, huh?"

"Obviously," he muttered, because there was no point in denying it. "Have you met him?"

"He's a sweetheart, huh?" Safrilly's vixen smile softened into something a little gentler. "Do you think you'll want to, like, date him? For real?"

"It doesn't matter if I want to or not. We're not dating, for real."

"But does your heart know that?" She tapped him on the chest. "If you're going to start seeing this as a relationship, you'd better know that. Or else it'll just sneak up on you."

Jamey huffed. "What about you? Do you want to date Mr. Prost for real?"

"He's gay," she pointed out. "It's not happening."

"So there you go. Decklan and I aren't happening, either."

"Why not?"

"He could have any sub he wants."

Safrilly sat back to look at Jamey, frowning. "And, what, he couldn't want you? Because it sure looks to me like he could."

Jamey shook his head. If Decklan thought he wanted Jamey, that was only because he didn't know Jamey well enough yet. Jamey could barely stand his own company; he didn't expect anyone else to put up with him.

He couldn't say that to Safrilly, though. She wouldn't get it. Not until she'd had time to heal from what she'd gone through and was well enough to start seeing Jamey's flaws more clearly.

So he just said, "I'm not fooling myself. He's just being kind, and I appreciate it, and that's the end of it."

Safrilly made a dubious sound, but finally gave up the argument and turned her attention back to the media screen. The second episode of the show had started, and Jamey had no idea what was happening because he hadn't been paying attention. He tried to watch it anyway; if Safrilly liked it so much, then it was probably pretty good.

After a few minutes, Safrilly said, "we're docking at a station tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." Decklan had told him that the night before, during the card game. He'd told Jamey a lot of things that Jamey had been wondering about, without Jamey needing to ask.

Jamey's throat tightened up and he swallowed hard against it.

Safrilly looked up at him again. "Mr. Prost and I are going shopping, if you want to come? He said he'll buy me something for being good."

The self-satisfaction in her voice made him huff out a laugh. He knew that she knew that Mr. Prost would've said that even if she'd spent the last two days dismantling everything on the ship. She grinned at his laugh and nudged him with her elbow. "Please will you come? I'll make him buy you something, too."

"Oh. Mm," Jamey hesitated, licking his teeth uncertainly.

It had been a long time since he'd been to a mall. They were big spaces with a lot of furs in them, and he'd been intimidated by both of those things even before...before.

He'd enjoyed going to malls once, though, hadn't he? When he'd been in training at the VDA, some of the other trainees would drag him out on Friday nights to a mall or a movie or a club.

His friends. They'd been friends, right? But he hadn't spoken to any of them since he went to live with Brandin. He didn't know where they were now.

"Hello. Safrilly to Jamey. Are you in there?" Her tone was flippant, but when he looked at her, her gaze was concerned, which hit him right in the bruise of guilt he was already carrying.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I just--um. It'll be crowded, yeah?"

"Probably." She looked at him closely for a second, maybe trying to decide if he was about to freak out. "You could ask Decklan what he'll be doing? He might want some company."

"Shut up," he muttered, and she grinned. He shoved her. "Can we re-start this show? I don't know what's happening."

"Promise me you'll think about it? I'll be sad if you stay here all by yourself."

"Fine. I'll think about it," he said, and her smile widened, then she flicked back to the start of the first episode. He settled in against her to watch, but his mind was only half on the show; the other half was begrudgingly chewing over the thoughts that Safrilly had planted.

Maybe Decklan would appreciate some company on the station.