In the morning Isaac woke up without fail at 5AM, just like he had done every day as his body was completely adjusted to his work schedule. He turned onto his back and hissed a loud; "Fuck!" when his RIG festered at the pressure. He sat up quickly on the mattress, grunting at the splitting pain along his shoulder blades. He felt much more sore than usual and as his clogged vision came into focus so did his memories. His blue eyes snapped to the lump in bed next to him and he spotted Alan's matted black hair. "Oh fuck," he muttered with less force this time, rubbing his palms over his tired face.

He remembered now, very clearly. He recalled the physical actions first; how he was advanced upon, kissed, fondled by another man. And then with the memories came his array of feelings; his nervousness, reluctance and disgust giving way to a strange passion, desire, and enjoyment. His body was suddenly doused in chills and goose bumps, and a sour, anxious feeling lumped in his stomach.

Isaac threw his legs over the side of the bed and continued to rub his eyes, standing as soon as he felt able. Where did Alan even live? He decided whatever the hell was going on would have to wait until after his shift. Alan snored gently into the pillow and the engineer looked back over his shoulder with a sullen expression. He walked to the bathroom and forced himself to prepare for the day.


Isaac worked overtime that evening in a rush to finish electrical work on ships that were planning on cracking a moon within the next week. His supervisor had understaffed the project and by the end of his shift he was exhausted almost to the point of collapse. He pushed through the sliding door to his apartment and sighed deeply when he realized not only had he returned home, but to his denied situation.

Alan was still in bed sleeping. Whether or not he'd woken or done anything productive wasn't apparent.

Isaac's helmet folded away into the mechanisms around his neck and his dirtied face scowled slightly at his partner's enviable state. He began to pull away the outer armor from his suit until he was left in the black, grey, and white cloth and crossed the room to his bed.

"Alan," he said in a normal, casual tone, gently nudging the writer. Nothing. "Alan!" he slapped him on the back of the head, coaxing a strong jump and shout in surprise.

"Alice?"

"Uh, no," Isaac scowled in confusion, making an expression one would make after taking a bite of undesirable food. "I'm back, I guess. Not that it matters I don't think, you've been asleep for hours."

"I feel like shit," Alan announced as he rolled onto his back, flattening both palms over his face.

Isaac felt irritated and tired and decided to ignore the writer, walking to the bathroom and kicking the door behind him as he began to shrug out of his suit. The light metal slab bounced off the frame clumsily and creaked open to a mischievous crack.

Alan sighed through his fingers before pulling them away and examining the room for the first time. Everything was the same as home except, of course, different. But the way in which it was different was harder to identify; it wasn't metallic silver or beeping robotically, in fact most of the familiar mechanisms seemed simpler in design. He made mental notes of certain things as he studied the objects until his eyes arrived at the bathroom door. Isaac was at the sink completely naked, his tan skin and strong backside facing Alan most likely unawares. The writer scoffed rather loudly and he shook his head, reminding himself that the evening before was one of those freak waves of bi-curiosity. But a few moments later his gaze was yet again clued greedily to the crack.

He could see curves of Isaac's thighs and a feeling in his stomach made him jerk irrationally to the left, pulling his legs towards him a bit. Isaac's backside was firm and perfect from the angle at which he was standing. The writer followed the dip of his spine up to the tube-like RIG that dug so lustfully into his vertebrae. It was glowing blue in the dim light of the bathroom and the wires and mechanism around the outside that penetrated his skin were lined with purple bruising. He wasn't kidding when he said it got sore.

Thoughts began to invade Alan's mind, thoughts of intimacy and invasion. The sick, vulnerable feeling in his stomach spiked hot anger in his chest and he became flustered almost instantaneously.

By the time Isaac had exited the bathroom in thin but durable boxers and a Sun Cola t-shirt, Alan was in bitch-mode.

"Are you going to bed?" he asked enviously, as though he had no right.

"Yes, I worked all day," the engineer snapped, reaching back over his shoulder to touch his RIG as he rounded the bed frame to his side of the mattress. "I'm exhausted." Alan watched him lower himself onto the bed, his face contorted in reaction to the dull pain that was coursing through his trunk. He hissed and cursed as he finally came to rest on his stomach, alleviating the pressure.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't care."

"Can I go out?"

"Not far, once someone realizes you have no RIG you'll be sent to EarthGov."

"What the fuck!"

Isaac was instantly aggravated by his partner's irrational aggression and ungratefulness. Isaac had no idea what to do with the stranger in the first place and was beginning to regret allowing him to bunk in his apartment. "Can you shut up? I've had enough problems for one day."

The engineer was surprised when no remark was made and as he pondered the possibilities of why he felt his body drifting into a comfortable sleep despite his burning muscles. Drool was forming at the corner of his mouth when he felt the bed shift and his eyes shot open with lulling eyelids. Nothing happened and he easily returned to light sleep.

Alan waited until Isaac was almost snoring before he turned onto his side and began to eye over his partner. The shirt the engineer was wearing had a plastic-like frame down a line on the back to allow for the RIG to fit seamlessly and the appearance of the contraption again was almost overwhelming. The writer reached hesitantly forward, inching as if he would get caught until the pads of his fingers touched the hot, glass-like tubing. "Wow," he muttered to himself with wide eyes. He began to trace the fusion of the pieces, and then started fingering the outside of the metal frame curiously. On accident his nail had caught under the lip at the top and this caused Isaac to shift in discomfort, Alan's cheeks flushing

The writer waited in exciting fear until his partner's breathing returned to deep, even gusts and then he leaned forward, his own inhales coming quick with nerves. He pressed his dry lips to the skin on Isaac's neck just above the top of his RIG, pressing to the cool flesh with a restrained gluttony. A shiver ran down his body and he began to kiss the side of the engineer's throat, his cheek rubbing against Isaac's jaw as he began to nip the skin.