Made sense, of course. Delilah wasn’t built for a three-man crew anyhow. Just the two bunks to be had and only two seats bolted in the cockpit.
Sure, it might’ve crossed Orin’s mind a time or two that maybe he could stow away in Ari’s bunk, tuck his boots in next to Ari’s every night like they’d gotten in the habit of doing lately.
But truth was, Ari probably wouldn’t want his brother to know he’d been letting a brute like Orin warm his sheets. Couldn’t blame him; it was clear as day Orin wasn’t suited for a man like that. All silk underthings and ten-credit words.
He remembered the way Ari had said “courting” like it was something he expected Orin to be capable of. And maybe that had set him to thinking of all the ways Ari deserved to be courted, all the ways he probably would be once he made his way home.
Some fancy university man bringing him flowers and sweets and taking him out to museums and shows, strolling down the street arm in arm as proud as you please. Laying him down on satin sheets and kissing every single inch of that creamy skin at least twice every night.
And maybe Orin had wasted some time thinking about what it might be like if he could’ve been one of those men. If he had an education and a home and more than a busted-up toolbox and fifty credits to his name.
Once he got the ship repaired, though, there wouldn’t be much time left for him to waste on contemplating impossible dreams. He’d get Ari to where he was going, and if he was lucky, he’d get to stick around long enough to see the joy on his face when he found his brother before Orin finally got the boot.
If Orin was a better man, he’d back out of the deal entirely. Refuse the ship and insist that Ari and Theo take it back home for themselves. They belonged back in the Core, insulated from the rough edges of space. Maybe Orin should stay behind in the Restricted Sector and barter his way home on his own or try to make his way as a pilot over there.
Might end up doing that anyway. Orin didn’t have the faintest idea how he was just going to turn tail and head out when he knew Ari wasn’t safe. No idea how he could leave him behind in the wilderness like that.
Every minute it seemed more and more likely Orin would end up breaking the deal and talking himself out of a ship for Ari’s own good. Not even the lure of finally having his own ship again was enough to settle the rolling of his gut at the thought of leaving him alone in the Restricted Sector, far outside the protection of the Verge.
Time enough to make that decision when it came down to it. Not much use in dithering over it now.
Best to focus on the task at hand. He stabilized his wrist with the opposite hand and attempted to line up a squiggly one behind two of the pointy ones, overlapping lines a little no matter how hard he tried not to.
Damn. Flying upside down and backward in a rusted blindfold was easier than this.
Orin cursed every star in the dark as he splotched another ink blot on top of his words, dropping the pen with his big, clumsy fingers.
He leaned his head back, the little chair squeaking as he shifted his weight.
Tried thinking of nice things to calm him down. Things like gliding smooth through space with a powerful engine, or sitting down to a table laid out with all kinds of food, or putting his hand out and clasping another, smaller hand. Having that person look up at him with big green eyes and smiling pretty.
Visions of green eyes and sweet smiles sent him back to work, picking up the pen with a sigh and getting down to it.
*
Orin shifted the rolls of parchment under his arm as he clomped down the corridor, pausing when he found the cockpit unexpectedly occupied.
Ari sat in the pilot’s chair, bent over and tapping away at the screen Orin usually used, ankles crossed primly beneath his seat.
“Whatcha doing there, sugar? Practicing those flight exercises I taught you?”
Ari whipped around like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, a dull flush rising up his neck.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry; I should practice those more often. I was just. Well. I suppose that I ought to go ahead and tell you. We may not have time later to go over everything in much detail.”
Orin had a sinking feeling in his gut at the way Ari was coming across nervous as all get out. What did he have to say that he thought Orin wouldn’t like?
Orin stepped closer to peek over Ari’s shoulder as he turned back to the pilot’s screen and continued tapping busily away.
“I was programming the coordinates of my lodgings on Britannia into the ship’s navigational memory. I have also provided the entry code for the front and back doors. I would appreciate it if you could unload my and Theo’s belongings there before being on your way. Of course, you are also welcome to stay there for as long as you wish. I cannot be certain when or if I shall return, and the lease has been paid for the remainder of the year.”
Orin blinked hard against the sudden burning pressure of threatening tears. “You’d let a dirty Verge rat like me stay in your fancy digs?”
Ari spun around to face him, just about the picture of sincerity. “Of course, I would. And I forbid you to refer to yourself as such in future.”
Orin rubbed the back of his hand under his nose with a loud sniff. “Mighty kind of you. How do you know I ain’t gonna rob you blind?”
Ari considered Orin’s chest, fingers running down the length of Orin’s braces.
“I suppose I shall have to rely on trust in your good nature. Besides, you’ll already be leaving with my most valuable possession, which I have given you freely.”
Orin felt like he’d been dealt a punch to the gut as Ari lifted shining eyes to his, a tiny smile playing at his pretty lips. Orin wrinkled his nose, trying to clear his head after it went all funny at the sight.
“You mean Delilah?”
Ari’s gaze dropped faster than a freighter with engine failure. “Yes, of course. The ship. I wish you well with it; I know it means a lot to you.”
His hands trailed across Orin’s chest and away, and then he stepped past Orin and out of the cockpit, face never lifting from the floor.
Orin felt like he was trying to lead them in a dance where he’d never learned any of the steps, just stumbling his bulk all over the floor and treading on Ari’s toes.
He focused on the screen, accessing the memory logs and pulling up the set of numbers that were the key to Ari’s house. Sweet thing had just handed it to him, like that wasn’t the worst decision a fella could make. Inviting Orin to stay as long as he pleased, without a second thought.
Orin had never met anybody half as clever or naive. Dr. Aristotle Campbell was terrifying, honest truth.
Before he closed up the log, he added another level of security to the information in a surge of habitual caution. Locking up twice had got him this far, after all.
He adjusted the parchment, rolling it up tight and holding it in his hands as he walked back down the corridor. He could see into the open door of Ari’s lab, Ari’s back turned to him as he stood at his workbench, peering into some contraption or other and jotting down notes as easy as you please.
Wasn’t even paying any attention to the paper, half the time.
Orin pulled up short behind him, not wanting to disturb his work. The parchment crumpled a little in his hand, the crunching sound bringing Ari’s head up and around.
Those funny little goggles were shoved on his head again, mussing up his hair something fierce. Ari was completely ridiculous, brows raised inquisitively under the mess of red hair with the goggles perched on top like a crown.