This still takes place during the show, a short time after the first chapter of "Anatomical Differences".

xxxxx

It was quiet aboard the Condor. Finn had been locked in his room with his music – semi-involuntarily – and Junko was tinkering with the skimmers in the hold – they needed a bit of attention after that last battle, and Aerrow had flown out on a grocery run. Content that "the Finn" would no longer be a burden on her nerves, Piper made her way to the bridge.

As was expected, Stork was manning the helm, cruising absently and listening to the radio for a new errand with which to occupy the crew. While he didn't speak to her as she entered, he did glance her way when she stopped beside him.

"He's shut up good," she reported. "You were right about the sound-proofing. Makes a world of difference."

He gave an evil smirk. "I'm right quite often, and yet people are always surprised." She smirked back, and the two held the shared joke for a pleasant moment. She stepped past the helm, looking out the glass at the bright blue sky.

"Not a lot of clouds today," she noted.

"Not a lot of wind, either," he replied, not liking the tone in her voice. "It's a very quiet day." The remark hung in the air, resembling the awkward start of an uncomfortable conversation far too much for his tastes.

"Where's our heading?"

"Atmosia, at present. There's always business that needs done at the capital." She nodded. He eyed her, curious.

Eventually, she came around, and his brilliant, yellow eyes followed. She joined him at the helm, and looked him in the eye. "Would you like a back scratch?"

He blinked, startled. The nervous pilot quickly checked his controls, but the shock hadn't traveled down his arms. He tilted his head away, eyes narrowing at her. "Back scratch?"

"You know," she said, holding up her hands, fingers curled in claws, clenching and unclenching in the air. "Back scratch."

He... didn't know what to say to that. He shrugged, flustered, bewildered, and a bit unsettled. "Why?"

She smiled, a longsuffering, amused smile. The "there you go again" smile he got in the face of his paranoia. It had grown to resemble affection lately – that, or he was imagining it. "Why not? You always seem so... stressed. I figured it might help."

He eyed her dubiously. It had been two weeks prior that the Incident with the Invention (which later led to another Incident on the bridge) had led to her finding out about his... well, "happy spots" was how he'd always known them. Erogenous zones, if one was to be technical. In defense, she hadn't known any better, but it was knowledge he would have rathered never be shared – he never liked anyone having an advantage over him, real much more so than imagined. The awkward affair had ended with the pair slipping back into their routine and, after the report had been given, he'd put the Condor on auto pilot and slipped to his room. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but she hadn't followed. Two hours of waiting, and she never came. At dinner, her only response to the afternoon's events had been a sad smile – one he hadn't really seen before, and so, couldn't place. He'd hidden his face to hid whatever decided to show itself there, and decided that "the best course of action" in this situation was apparently to pretend it had never happened. So, yes. He was disturbed by this... seemingly innocent suggestion. He sighed.

"Do you... prefer the bridge?" he asked, admittedly bitter.

Her shoulders drooped, her patient facade dropping. "Stork, I'm just trying to help. You obviously need something. I know we're different, but we're not that different." She tried to appear hopeful before his dark glare.

In truth, she'd been disappointed when he'd hid and run – the sound of his voice whispering so soft in her ear, and the words, 'You've tasted blood, and now you want more...' still gave her shivers to think about. But he'd said he wanted to take it slow, so she would go as slow as he liked.

Stork frowned at her. Women made no sense. Even humans, it seemed. Why did things have to be so complicated? Did she want to do this or not? Or was that her way of saying, 'I'll try, but I reserve the right to freak out about you being such a... freak.'

Sure, she'd said "different", but that was just being nice. Still. A cruel concession was far better than a kind lie.

Piper watched him set the auto pilot and turn to her, his eyes still not sure, but his posture began to unwind. He seemed to grow right before her eyes, his legs and back straightening, and even his head was held high.

Should I really do this? On the one hand, willing party. Certainly beat lonely nights. The fresh love would be terribly disruptive to ship business, however. No one took on a new romance without sacrifices to sleep, food, body, time...

The pilot and the navigator? The Condor wouldn't fly for weeks. He thought of the safety of the crew, his awful luck leading inevitably to a Cyclonian attack in the middle of – well. It would kill his response time, to put it nicely. And while he was busy doing otherwise, no one was standing watch. Junko was an unreliable watch stander, always slipping off for a snack, and was the one asking for direction, not giving it. Aerrow would get restless and call for 'training', and Finn...

Stork sighed, deflating. The same argument reared its ugly, logical head for the umpteenth time. He'd stop counting a long time ago. The fact of the matter was, this ship couldn't fly – literally or otherwise – without them. The Storm Hawks would be sitting ducks while the two of them sorted out their passions, not to mention the inevitable falling out. But that bit he'd rather keep an abstraction.

"Uhmm... Actually, I think I might be getting a rash," he said softly, lifting an unsteady paw to scratch at the back of his neck.

To his surprise, she glomped him, pressing her torso on his – oh, she was good – and craning her neck over his, her fingers invading his ship suit, narrowed eyes investigating his claim.

"I'm calling bullshit, Stork," she answered firmly, removing herself to glare at him and put her hands on her hips. On the Merb's part, he backed into the controls, a green hand catching the helm. His heart was racing at a mile a minute, the thrill of panick mingled with arousal coursing through his veins. He shut his eyes and looked away, another hand finding another control, and he tightened his grip on them both, telling his mind, "think of the Condor, think of the Condor, think of the Condor..." and all of the crew who would be doomed to a certain demise if he let his body get the best of him. You're a Merbian! Mind over matter! You are a highly sophisticated creature, capable of so much! But that was a bad argument – long ago, someone else had beaten much of his self-worth out the window. In fact, much of the temptation came from the flattery that she was returning his feelings, even if she didn't understand the consequences (as an elder, it was his responsibility to be the strong one), as well as the alluring touch of another. Particularly one who didn't even treat them with respect. In a way, the chaos was tremendously exciting, but if she kept playing with fire, she was going to get burned. Faithful may be the wounds of a friend, but he didn't want to be that kind of friend.

Piper growled. The cowering Merb winced, lowering his head, but he didn't look at her, or even opened his eyes. "What are you so afraid of, Stork?" she snapped.

He let out a spare whimper. "W-what am I not afraid of?" he asked. He let out a humourless laugh.

She scowled. "You are so...!" Her hands turned into fists as she fought from saying anything. She didn't want him as an enemy. Or to get in a fight so... early in the relationship.

Am I really thinking like that? She caught herself. She was. Oh god, she was.

"Stork..." she said softly.

He stiffened, and one eye, twitching, slowly opened. She held out her hands in a gesture of peace-giving. He leaned away from it, seriously considering hiding behind the helm, and running out of the bridge if she made chase. He could lock himself in his room for a while until she went away, stomping and cursing as she did, like when Finn pissed her off. Yes, he'd seen her get angry plenty of times. The attempt at peace was never sincere – it was a trap to lull you into a sense of false security. He'd seen it before.

"L-look. It's best that we don't, okay?" he said, slipping behind the helm, the controls of the ship separating them. "I mean, even if this did work out – assuming we didn't kill each other in our first fight, or find out that all of this built up sexual tension fizzles out after a few weeks – imagine how helpless the crew would be without you! Or me, for that matter. I mean, who would fly this thing? Finn? None of them have any tactical awareness – well, except Aerrow, but that's only in battle, and you know as well as I do that this place would turn into a pigsty in a matter of hours. Atmos needs us, the Storm Hawks can't be brought down by a silly little thing like chemistry!" It had started out pleading, but by the end, he was frantic, spitting out the words in a desperate attempt for her to hear SENSE, and to think past her libido. It was hard – damn, it was hard, with her touching him like that and looking the way she did, long and thin and brown and snarky as hell. Oh, there were so many things he loved about her, and things he hated about her, and loved hating about her. Like how she could be so clever and resourceful, but at the same time couldn't comprehend why her incredibly complicated plans never worked. No matter how many times he said, "too many variables," she did it anyway – in fact, she started to just stick her tongue out at him. He tried to help, but she could do everything by herself. In a way, her stubbornness and independence were both her biggest flaws and most attractive features. She was intelligent, well-learned – absolutely brilliant. So brilliant, so why couldn't she see how bad an idea this was?

Sure enough, there was that cold hatred again. Ooh, it sent a delicious shiver of fear down his spine. She took hold of the helm – oh, that stance. So bold and sure and... god, this was so not working. This was making it far, far worse.

He'd heard very good things about make up sex.

With a wail, he dropped to his knees. "Please, Piper!" he said, not seeing her face go from anger to confusion. "I can't take this! You're driving me mad!" He held out his arms in a dramatic display of his frustrations. She couldn't even think of what to say, but cocked her head.

"Stork... What the hell is wrong with you?"

He finally looked up at her, and she had that befuddled, amused... Stork smile again. His breath caught, and he knew right then and there, that he was done for.

xxxxx

Sidenotes: Stork makes a variation on Jack Sparrow's comment in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest on "You were telling the truth!" "I do that quite often. And yet, people are always so surprised." Also, "faithful are the wounds of a friend" is scripture – Proverbs 27:6.