Without a Paddle

With a sigh, Zach rubs his forehead. Today has been a good day, all told, but tiring. He managed to convince his client that keeping his mouth shut is vital. It shouldn’t be up for discussion, it should be something that all mob members knew, and yet, every single time they were caught, they started singing. They did because they were bored, or proud, or provoked, or insecure, or a thousand other reasons. And Zach could—somewhat—understand that, in as much as he understood that people needed to be stupid from time to time, but he also knows that the behavior isn’t helpful and it must stop. Zach lifts his head and starts the ship, getting ready to leave the penal satellite. Three switches and a communication later he’s all set. He inputs the coordinates for his home next and that’s it. Zach can finally relax. Something pings. Zach slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He didn’t hear anything. All is good. A mat skitters on the floor, clearly pushed by somebody, and comes to a stop by his chair. “You picked the wrong ship,” Zach says without turning or even opening his eyes. “Hmm,” an amused voice muses. “Why is that?” Zach turns because he wants to see the fucker’s face fall. The man deserves it for being an asshole and Zach deserves it for putting up with him. Win-win. Only, when Zach turns, something nudges at him from his memories. “Aaron?” The person he met like, twice, at the Academy and left an impression? That Aaron? Can it really be him? The man tilts his head, his eyes suddenly flaring to life. It transforms him from an utterly forgettable person into whoever lived in Zach’s mind for more than twenty years. “Aron.” “Right.” His name is slightly different, it’s…“Just an A right?” Zach asks. Face virtually exploding into a beaming smile that positively transforms his features, Aron says, “Got me in one.” He bites his lip and his brown eyes get shrewd and even more intense although it didn’t seem possible. “You have the advantage. I’m afraid I do—ah! Zachariah Miller.” Zach’s lips twitch into a smile, which Aron returns even though he looks confused for a few seconds. He even goes so far as to look at the door he came through. His eyes, however, look bright with calculations. “The last place I thought I’d find you again is a mob advocate’s ship,” Aron says, eyes twinkling. “You’re borrowing it?” “No,” Zach chuckles, even though he feels his ears heat. His life is hard to explain. “No, I’m not.” “Lost then?” “I’m working for the Wiater family,” Zach says simply, chin maybe higher than strictly necessary. “You are?!” Aron says and gestures questioningly toward the passenger seat. He waits for Zach’s nod before approaching it and taking a seat, which is something that Zach appreciates. “The world is changing.” “Not really,” Zach answers with a tight smile. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “But it shows me you knew exactly what ship you chose, so congratulations on that.” “Thank you, I try.” Aron leaves the chair for a short bow. “I guess you’re not that much into rules anymore?” Zach is and he isn’t. “Guess again.” He sighs. “We don’t have time for storytelling. I’ve got two hours until I get home and you—. Wait. Why are you on my ship?” “It’s a pretty ship,” Aron says easily. It’s not. “Mm-hmm.” It’s an expensive ship. “Listen,” Aron says, “I’m sorry for pushing on. It’s clear you don’t want to talk about it, but I just…it’s surprising. Weren’t you Assistant Marshal? That’s the opposite side of the table, Zachariah.” Zach wants to roll his eyes. His question has been deftly deflected, the subject he didn’t want to talk about was being talked about under the pretense of apologizing for it, and Zach had forgotten Aron’s penchant for calling him by his full name. Aron is exactly as Zach remembers him. “You didn’t answer my question.” Aron doesn’t blink. “I did.” “And you can call me Zach, you know?” “May I call you Zachariah?” Aron parries. “I feel like that is the question. You look like a Zachariah.” “Old?” Zach asks. There’s a smile that wants to form but Zach won’t let it. “Or just ancient?” “Distinguished,” Aron says. Then his mouth turns at the corners, sly and sexy. “You know what you look like.” Zach has always been striking. Black skin and bright blue eyes aren’t that common even though most of the population is some nuance of dark-skinned. When he was a child, he hated it, then he learned to use it, and now…well, it gets him laid, but not much else. “I do and there’s no reason why it doesn’t fit Zach.” Aron smiles a tad sheepishly. “There’s possibly a connection with your…ah, strong moral code.” “I can see you are a fan of codes considering that you were just talking in one.” Aron lifts his eyebrow, careful to keep his expression unimpressed. “You’re saying that my strong moral code makes me stuffy.” “That’s not what I’m saying,” Aron denies. “No?” “Honestly, it’s like you’re not listening at all,” Aron complains. Zach glares, even though a swell of fondness sits barely restricted in his chest. “I’m saying it makes you Zachariah.” Aron smiles winningly. “See, totally different.” Zach chuckles and shakes his head. “Why are you here, Aron?” “Aren’t you happy we met? Found each other again? Reestablished our connection?” “Of course, I am which is why I need to know.” Zach looks at Aron with his best work with me here expression. It consists of an open posture and a hand cupping his jaw, giving the impression he’s willing to listen and take it seriously. Aron, with his characteristic uniqueness, doesn’t react as he should. His eyes fall on Zach’s lips and stay there. He licks his own lips and leans forward as if mesmerized. Oh, well, it might still work. “I’m escaping prison,” Aron says, his eyes not moving from Zach’s lips. “You have very nice fingers, has anybody told you that?” “Yes,” Zach answers instinctively. “Wait, you are what?” “Mm-hmm, and was there any talk of somebody sucking them? Maybe them, maybe you?” “What.” Aron jumps. “What?” “No, no, no.” Zach takes a deep breath. “You are not distracting me. Am I or am I not aiding your escape?” “Don’t worry,” Aron dismisses. “I’m keeping you hostage.” And out of his clothes comes a weapon. Full cartridge, porcelain weapon with silver and steel alloy, fully automatic. Zach blinks at the gun. “…What?!” He has seen those old-fashioned weapons; his clients use them all the time. It’s a tradition. “I’m not actually.” Aron rolls his eyes. “You see, I didn’t exactly plan on us knowing each other, so things have gone a little topsy-turvy but it’s nothing I can’t explain.” “And yet.” Zach’s tone gets progressively colder. “You’re still not explaining.” “I’m sorry,” Aron winces. “This must be annoying.” And Zach knows he should stop answering and let Aron speak but Zach can’t help himself. “Hold on, it gets worse,” Zach says dryly because his self-control is fading. Aron snickers. He leans in and suddenly, Zach is being kissed. It’s just a peck, barely there. “How can you be so adorable?” Zach rolls his eyes. “The explanation Mister…ah, I’m sorry, I don’t recall your surname.” “I go by Paddle now.” And Zach notices that’s not the same as Aron saying that’s his name but it’s the same as one of his clients dancing around something illegal they did. Zach sighs. He gestures at Aron broadly, as if inviting him to talk. “Okay, okay, I’m pushing it,” Aron says with a mischievous smile. “I’m a White Hat, a person who—” “Is hired to do criminal acts to improve the security,” Zach interrupts. The relief he feels is disproportionate to the situation and it occurs to Zach that he might’ve been disappointed. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” He asks because it’s a good policy to ask, not because he has any doubts. He doesn’t think there’s a—well, anyway. “I have a Republic ID and everything,” a beaming Aron tells him. “Can I show you?” Zach lifts an eyebrow and nods. “I suppose.” Pfft, I suppose. Like he doesn’t believe Aron. Like Zach wouldn’t help him even if he was a real escapee. I suppose. Zach was telling the truth, things have changed and they haven’t. Maybe, the real truth is that Zach is more nuanced. “Here, let me show you.” Aron’s delight is child-like. The holo-pad processes his request and a golden hologram of a badge appears. “They gave me a badge!” Zach laughs. It comes out much warmer than intended but he lets it go. “They did, you are indeed…” He closes his eyes. “Paddle as in up s**t’s creek without a…” He rubs his forehead but that does nothing to stop the laugh that’s building. “Exactly like that!” And Zach can’t stop it. He laughs. Amused and free and with his heart full. Because the world can’t be as grim as he’s imagined it in his darkest moments if people like Aron exist. It can’t be as pressing if people can get away with that. And sure, not all people, not even most, just a few, but…they exist. Aron looks pleased with himself but his mind is always ticking. As such, Zach should have expected Aron to say, “You still haven’t told me how you got to work for the Family.” But Zach didn’t see it coming so it’s more of a defensive reaction than actual thought when he says, “Why don’t we get more comfortable for that talk?” His tone suggests that there will be no further discussion involved, but it at least promises s*x. Aron smirks. “Sure, I can let it go for now.” Zach averts his eyes, embarrassed by the obviousness of his reaction. He doesn’t have doubts about his decision, but the process he went through to come to it was sobering. The idea of talking to somebody else about it, somebody who wasn’t there and couldn’t understand what he felt, was humiliating. He can see how the eye-opening event can be read as a failure. Even he sometimes thinks that he actually failed and has been unable to accept it ever since. Maybe he has been lying to himself all this time. In the end, though, it doesn’t really matter. These things are in the past and, failure or not, Zach moved on. He understands Aron’s curiosity because it’s one of the reasons why Zach remembered Aron in the first place. It’s a facet of his always ticking mind. But Zach doesn’t want to go through what happened with a man of Aron’s intellect. He doesn’t want to be analyzed, evaluated, and found lacking. Zach just doesn’t have the courage. “s*x?” Aron asks, seemingly unbothered. “s*x,” Zach confirms. Aron’s closeness, the gentle kiss that follows, and the familiarity of the act itself does nothing for the vague feeling of unease that Zach feels. And it’s new and it’s old, as it is every time Zach has s*x with a new person. He feels fine. The s*x is good. He likes Aron, everything is okay. But, Zach is attracted to Aron’s brain, not how he uses his mouth. While Aron is no slacker at either, it doesn’t quite hit the spot as the banter did. And the connection that they were building, or rebuilding, is disappearing with every thrust and lick. In the end, though Zach has no complaints about the s*x, he regrets suggesting it. The idea came from a place of cowardice. That’s enough reason for dissatisfaction, but it didn’t stop there. It transformed from something challenging and promising into what Zach always does and lately leaves him, at most, indifferent. Zach chews on his regret. He watches the ship’s ceiling and absently rubs at his lips, body feeling satisfied but mind restless as usual. That’s when Aron takes it upon himself to remind Zach who he’s dealing with. Aron leans over Zach with a roguish smile and takes ahold of his hand. “You know, I think it would have been easier if you had just told me the truth,” Aron says and kisses Zach’s fingers. Slowly, the urge to smile wakes Zach up from his funk. He feels like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, bashful and cheeky. “It would have been even easier if you’d have stopped pushing.” Aron smiles roguishly. “Me? Nah.” He kisses Zach’s lower lip, catching it between his and giving it a light suck. “I would have,” Aron confesses lightly. “But it’s such a big change that I can hardly recognize you. I don’t know what’s happened but I want to know. It’s a big part of you; I can’t just pretend it’s not there. I wouldn’t, if we’re being honest, but I really want to understand. If I didn’t, I would have probably stopped.” Zach lifts an eyebrow. “Or pushed harder.” Aron shrugs awkwardly from his position on the bed. “Either one.” Zach snorts. “I won’t even try to defend myself,” Aron says with a haughty expression. He lets it fall into a genuine smile. “I just want you to know that I hope you’ll call me. This doesn’t have to end.” “What’s this?” Zach says, willfully ignoring everything else. “Whatever we want it to be.” Zach rolls his eyes. Of course, Aron would have the perfect answer. It’s the practicalities that matter and he’s being awfully vague about them. Aron kisses him gently. “Think about it.” He evidently saw Zach’s hesitation. “I will,” Zach says, knowing that it’s the only thing he can promise.