Written for the 'Heavenly' space on my fluffbingo card for 2019 Q2.

I had another idea for this prompt, but it promptly became heartwrenching angst and spawned a huge AU so. . . Small fluff of stargazing it is. Thank you, M, for the suggestion.

"Come with me." Harlock asked quietly, twining his fingers with Yama's and tugging him up the slope on the far side of the meadow the verge of which their pod rested by. Yama followed willingly, the bobbing grasses and flowers sweeping along his boots and legs as they passed.

Dusk had been gathering for a while, and was now deepening into night, but Harlock's steps were sure, and Yama trailed him with ease. He wondered where Harlock was leading them, true, but he would follow Harlock almost anywhere.

Yama was a little surprised to be brought to a high point that was actually rather thin on plant life, a rocky crest with scattered lichens and some small trailing flowers - with a few very hopeful tree seedlings - springing up in cracks and the spaces between. Harlock released his hold, letting Yama take in the area around them, and he headed across the rise to look out over the world now spread out below. The heavy shadows of night made it difficult to see details, but he could still make out the broad swathes of growing things, especially the little stands of saplings gathered across the field they had passed through.

Meanwhile Harlock had made his own way across to nearly the highest point, his back leaning against a sloped rock. He held out a hand to Yama when their gazes met again, and Yama smiled, moving to his lover's side. He settled beside Harlock comfortably, leaning into Harlock's shoulder with one of his lover's arms wrapping around his own shoulders.

Yama hummed, contemplating asking Harlock why they had come here, but only for a fleeting moment, content just to be. He slid a hand up and down Harlock's thigh beside him, shifting to press more closely against his lover's side, warm and solid.

Harlock squeezed his shoulders, and Yama tipped his head back, then-

He stared, breathless, at the thick swathe of stars above them. The last time they had set foot on Earth it had been day, they hadn't stayed for so long . . . and the Dark Matter had still been so thick in the air that there was no way to see space from the Earth, nor Earth's surface from beyond the atmosphere. Much to the disappointment of the rest of the crew, for whom the surface was still not safe now.

Harlock made a soft sound almost in his ear, leaning into Yama gently.

"It's beautiful from here. . ." Yama said softly, unable to drag his eyes away from the display above them - painted across the heavens, he supposed. Yama was more than familiar with stars - he lived among them, watching from the Arcadia as they travelled among planets, the light from far-off stars washing over the ship.

This, however. . .

"There's something special about seeing them from the ground," Harlock said softly, his voice thrumming through Yama's body where they were pressed together, "and here. . ."

Yama managed to drag his attention down to look at his lover's face before returning his rapt gaze to the bright glow of the stars. "No one has seen the stars from here in . . . over a century." he said quietly.

Harlock smiled slightly, a little crooked. "No." he agreed, voice low. "They're . . . beautiful."

Yama cuddled against him with a soft hum, stroking his thigh again. "You. . ." he began, then stopped. He wouldn't ask if Harlock had missed them, but. . . "Do you remember any of the. . ."

"Constellations? Stories?" Harlock said, his expression lightening further. "I do. Would you like to hear them?" he asked, a soft look in his eye.

Yama smiled and reached up, caressing his cheek and bringing him into a kiss. "I would, please. Would you tell me?" He glanced up at the sky, then down to meet his lover's gaze.

The stars were reflected in bright little points in Harlock's warm hazel eye.

Harlock stroked his shoulder, fingers curling, and drew a deep breath, looking back up to the tableau of the heavens above them; a sight no one had seen this way in a century, one only Harlock could yet recall.

Yama smiled slightly, a little sad, as he followed Harlock's gesturing hand, tracing patterns among the bright points, and listened to Harlock's low voice building only slightly halting stories and legends from memory about the images to be found there, bringing them to life once more.