"Sorey."
"..."
"You know it's nothing personal."
"..."
Sorey was seated, his arms crossed, his eyes locked to the floor. He slowly turned his head to look at Mikleo. The expression on his face was...well, he was probably going for "tragic". He was surely attempting to paint a picture of a man deprived of the smallest bit of happiness after giving so much to the world. A bottomless sorrow that could only be voiced in the shaky sighs that heaved from his lungs. Sorrow, wordless sorrow, caused by the cruel machinations of fate, and also the callous disregard that the Hyland-Rolance Air & Space Institute had for Sorey's accomplishments.
"They don't just let people pilot the spacecraft. Even if they used to be the Shepherd. And stick that lip back in," Mikleo scolded, poking at Sorey's pouty lower lip with his index finger.
"I'm only going to borrow it for a bit!" Sorey retorted. He scooted away from Mikleo's pokey finger, and, once he was an acceptable distance away, re-crossed his arms and resumed his pout; lip and all. "They act like I don't know the first thing about flying. Shiron gave me pilot lessons! You were there!"
Mikleo was there on that horrible afternoon, and he still had nightmares about it. (And poor Shiron certainly had them far worse.) He sighed, and leaned back on the bench where they sat. They were taking a breather in the Institute's food court - the Research division of the Institute shared a complex with the public museum, and it was the museum that had brought them here, as museums always did. They'd been spotted there by one of the students who had attended their lectures at Pendrago U; now a researcher at the Institute, she had excitedly invited them in for a private guided tour of the space flight labs. Neither Sorey nor Mikleo could have possibly said no to such an offer.
Mikleo had been blinded by excitement and curiosity. Honestly, he should have expected it would end like this: with Sorey pleading to be allowed to pilot a craft to the moon, then kicking up a sulk when he was denied despite all his reasoned arguments. And now Sorey was going to remain sulky all day, and they wouldn't be able to enjoy the rest of the museum, and Sorey would only pick at his dinner, and would get even more pouty when Mikleo wouldn't let him have dessert because he didn't clean his plate. Consequences accumulating upon consequences.
"Professors! Um – Doctor Grand Seraph Mikleo and Doctor Grand Seraph Sorey—"
"Just 'Mikleo' is fine, Callie," Mikleo assured her. "What's wrong?"
Callie, their student-now-researcher, approached them nervously; shoulders hunched, and adjusting her glasses. Despite her tension, there was a certain sparkle in her eyes that piqued Mikleo's curiosity (curiosity, his biggest weakness) and brought Sorey out of his sulk.
"I...some of the senior staff heard us talking earlier, and it went all the way up to the board of directors," Callie said. Her fingers twitched up to adjust her glasses again, and she continued on, faster and faster as she went: "And they think it'd be wonderful to celebrate the Institute's upcoming anniversary if we had an event where you and Doctor Grand Seraph Sorey, the both of you, you know, well, train with some of our cosmonauts for just a brief mission up to the lunar research base, you have so many fans of your books on the base and it'd be so great for morale for them to see you, it gets so lonely up there for them, and it wouldn't be more than a few days, you know, not too stressful and not to impose on your schedules, and we could stream it online for the whole world to enjoy live, and—"
"We'd love to," Mikleo and Sorey blurted out in unison, and Mikleo slapped his palm over Sorey's mouth before the request to drive the spacecraft blurted out.
The view from the craft was breathtaking. A bubble of blue and green against a vast, boundless black.
This was the world that Mikleo and Sorey had longed to see, had explored and studied, had loved for so long. And from this far away, it looked like it could fit cupped in the palms of their joined hands.
"Mikleo," Sorey murmured. "I can't believe we're seeing something like this."
"Mmm," Mikleo replied. Words failed him. So much for being an author.
(Maybe Sorey could manage to put some poetry to paper when they touched back down - honestly, as much as Mikleo teased him, he'd improved over the years.)
They let the silence stretch out as they watched their planet through the observatory window; comfortable and knowing, as it always was between them. A lunar transport vehicle chugged past their dazzling panoramic view, towing along a cart of samples. Sorey watched it in fascination as it passed by. The wheels in his head were visibly churning.
"I already told them to hide all the vehicle override keys," Mikleo said, deadpan. "And to tell the maintenance and service androids that you're banned from driving."
Sorey's lower lip pouted out again, and Mikleo's finger poked it back in.