"You're so concerned, pick up the gorram laundry yourself!"

Simon sat on the floor of their cabin hard, as his lover disappeared up the ladder and out into the ship.

His jaw hurt. Dazed, the doctor reached for the cold edge of the sink and slowly pulled himself upright. He looked down at his trembling hands, and tugged half-heartedly at his vest to straighten it. He tasted blood at the corner of his mouth.

He looked around himself, at the dirty piles of clothing on bed and floor, and began gathering them up. Bending down increased the pain in his face, straightening up made the claustrophobic room swim slightly. He kept moving, and did not turn towards the ladder.

Simon didn't know how the argument got so out of hand. He had just wanted to clean the place up... and before he knew it, they were yelling at each other, and then the fist came flying... Something about my so-called refinement, looking down on him, but I never said...

He dropped the clothes onto the unmade bed and pressed his fingers into the forming bruise, willing that sharper pain to override the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Things have been going so well lately...

Doctor Tam, Mister Top Three Percent, the one with all of the advantages of a Core education, was completely at a loss. Out here, he was just Simon. And Simon didn't know what to think, what to say or not say to keep this from happening again. The thoughts buzzed inside of his head like drugged bees, faltering and directionless.

The first time it happened, he had fallen back in shock more than hurt. After all, he'd been hit on this ship before. But this was different. He looked up, fury boiling inside of him... and met his lover's eyes. The dismay there, the instant self-loathing, had stopped him in his tracks. That time, there had been effusive apologies and tender kisses. Why, he had practically been carried around and hand-fed for a week afterwards. Zoe had given them both measured looks during that time, but had said nothing. Neither had Simon.

The acrid smell of gunpowder and beer rose up from the bed, and Simon moved back to the sink area to wash his hands. That was the smell of danger, a sure sign of a "plan" gone wrong, and honestly the only reason for his opening remark: "Can't you put your filthy clothing in the laundry chute like a civilized person?" Simon smiled wryly to himself as he thought back. Of course that started an argument, how could I be so... He looked at himself in the mirror, and saw the dark stain spreading under the skin of his cheek. The smile faded. I can't take much more of this. He splashed water on the cut on his lip and leaned wearily against a nearby bulkhead.

His own passenger berth, his rooms at Osiris Medical, even his childhood bed... nowhere had he felt as loved and protected as he did in this room, with this man. Those strong arms held him so tightly every night, they kept the entire universe at bay. Floating in the dark nothingness of this small space within space, he could relax himself completely.

Simon sighed. He loves me. He does. I should be trying to pull my weight, not picking suo-xi fights... He gathered up the dirty laundry and made his way over to the laundry chute. He made a second trip, picking up straggling socks, and stripped the bedsheets. He stiffened as the door above opened with a clang.

He turned away from the sound of footsteps, closing his eyes as his lover's shadow cast itself on the wall.