mitsubishievo | [AU] to the stars by hard ways

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[AU] to the stars by hard ways

When it came down to it, and they got off of Bajor, Yosef got them the first transport he could away from Deep Space 9. It was too close, too easy to get them back where they'd been, and he was an identifiable thing, fleeing an occupied planet. That said nothing about Proko. He didn't even really know what the boy was, just that he was here, that it seemed necessary, vital, to keep him safe and out of the hands of anyone that might try to take him. He could do that. He could manage it.

So he donned his father's name, and they headed away from everything that he had ever known.

The transport ship approaching the Deep Space station--Four? Five? He didn't remember anymore, just that it was far away and anonymous, and that's what they needed--was a mostly quiet thing, and they hadn't asked questions of a young half Bajoran boy and his curious, quiet friend. He stayed close to Proko. He could hardly let the other boy out of his sight.

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"Will this be different than the other station?" he asked from where he stood. The transport ship didn't have many windows, but he'd managed to find one. It was comfortable knowing that the vast expanse was out there stars flickering in the distance.

"Quieter, probably," he said. He leaned against the bulkhead next to the window that Proko had found and offered him a tray of food. Replicator rations were limited, and the computers weren't vastly programmed, but it was definitely food. He slid down the bulkhead until he was seated, leaning toward Proko's knee a bit.

"No Cardassians. That'll be nice."

Proko watched the tray of food descend with Yosef and eventually sank down to sit next to him. Being corporeal had led to a lot of new experiences, including eating.

He'd decided that he didn't really like rations, but they weren't the worst thing that'd been put in front of him.

"How can you be sure?" He wouldn't have put it past Yosef to find a way to access the full crew manifest for the station.

He leaned into Proko a little bit, picking apart the food. Being off the transport would be good, because even if it just meant being on a station instead. It would be better.

"I don't think there's a lot of Cardassians out in the Beta Quadrant, for starters," he said with a lazy smile. "Just everyone else, you know. It'll be good to get off the transport, at least."

"Yes," he agreed as he ate from the tray. It would be good to have more places to wander, though, in the end, the station was still a contained thing. There were only so many places they could go.

Proko eased closer to Kav and rested against him.

"Do we have a place to stay? Jobs?"

Having an occupation was new to him, but he'd gotten along well enough on the last station. He wondered if Kav had made arrangements or if they would figure it out once they disembarked.

"I've got a Ferengi contact," Yosef said. He was going to have to get used to going by his father's name, Kavinsky, just because it was easier, safer maybe. "So we'll probably be helping with inventory and stuff for a while. Busy work. But we've got quarters squared away, and we've got each other."

He didn't think it would be hard to work their way up to a point where they'd be going off the station from time to time.

Proko made a slight face, but he supposed he couldn't fuss. "Will it be safe here?" he asked.

He knew that had been Yosef's concern, one of them anyway. He ate another bit of the rations. An announcement informed them that they would be docking soon, and told all passengers to prepare to disembark.

"Safe as life."

And this, this would be a safer life than it would be on Bajor, or Deep Space 9. It was still a Federation station, surrounded by Federation colonies. Being away from the wormhole was a benefit. Being away from the Alpha Quadrant was a benefit. They would be as safe as they could be, for as long as they could be.

And when they weren't anymore, they would move.

He leaned over and kissed Proko's cheek. "Try not to worry about it right now."

"I'm not."

That was truthful, he felt though at times a bit uncertain. He had never been concerned for himself before, not like this. The first time he had a physical injury had been... disconcerting. This body was more fragile than he realized sometimes.

Proko leaned into Yosef - Kavinsky - and finished off his portion of the rations before he got up. He had only a small pack.

He finished up his portion of the rations as well. It was hardly anything. He dumped the tray aside and got to his feet; his own pack wasn't far away, and he grabbed it. They'd traveled light, because there was no reason to travel any other way in the moment. Maybe if they settled, in any sort of long term, they'd collect things. For now, this was good.

"Come on," he said, wrapping an arm around Proko's waist. "Let's get ready to see this station."

He stayed against Kavinsky's side as they disembarked, and he looked around curiously as they passed from the ship to the station. It felt a bit different already, he saw a handful of different species.

Proko managed to not make a face when Kavinsky found the Ferengi they were looking for.

The Ferengi wasn't the worst that Kavinsky had ever dealt with, but that wasn't necessarily saying much by way of Ferengi. He kept himself between the Ferengi and Proko, because even if they were both going to be working for the guy, that didn't mean that he wanted that sharp-toothed sleaze looking too close at him.

It wasn't much of a meeting. They still had their bags and everything. When they finally got away, Kavinsky sort of leaned into Proko a bit more, digging out the PADD that had their quarters assignment.

"C'mon, let's go see how sterile this place starts out."

Proko leaned back and looked down at the PADD as Kavinsky figured out where they were supposed to go. He stayed close, focusing now on just getting to where they were going rather than the multitude of people and things they were passing on the way.

The room itself was, in fact, a bit sterile. Standard-issue. But Proko was pleased to see they had a little window that looked out at the stars.

Standard-issue, but not bad. It was a whole suite for them, which was more than he had expected. He was glad with what they'd gotten. He dropped his bag by the door and turned the lights on.

"Well. It's a wall between us and the world."

Proko drifted to the window, glad that all he could see was the vastness of space beyond it. Eventually he pushed away and dropped his bag near the bed.

"When do we have to start working? Or is it only you? Do I need to find a job?"

"I start in two days," he said, and moved to the couch. He glanced, on the way, toward the door that led into the little bedroom, but he couldn't see if there was just one bed or two in there. He hadn't asked.

Technically, Proko didn't exist on the intake forms. Technically, he didn't exist at all. Kavinsky would like to keep it that way, as long as they could.

"We can find something for you to do, if you want, but you don't need to. And it's probably better if we're not both working for the Ferengi."

"Not with the Ferengi. I don't think I would keep that job for long... or that they would keep their teeth."

He made a little face. He didn't like the Ferengi, and had been in at least one fight on Deep Space Nine. He hadn't started it. But he had been fairly intent on finishing it.

He might have nearly ripped one of the cretin's lobes. With his teeth. It was probably for the best that they had left not long after that.

"I will find something, somewhere, to keep myself busy." Maybe there would be no official record of him, bu he was sure he could find someone willing to pay him to do odd jobs. He fluffed his hair as he came back out of the bedroom and leaned in the doorway.

"There's only one bed," he reported.

Kavinsky watched Proko from across the space, the gentle lean of his body, the graceful weight of his limbs. He moved unlike anything else in the universe, he thought. His breath caught in his chest, his heart pounded. He hated himself a little bit for being so enamored.

"I can take the couch, it's cool." He scrubbed at the back of his neck.

"Why? It's a big bed." Proko leaned back into the room like he had to see it again to confirm that.

He resumed resting against the doorframe and watched Kavinsky. Yosef. He didn't know why he'd wandered into his dreams in the first place, but he was fairly certain he knew why he'd come back. The dark, half-Bajoran boy had something burning in him. His mind was like looking at a nebula, giving birth to stars unlike anything else in the universe. Proko hadn't been able to stop looking at it. At him. And now they were tied together in ways not even Proko fully understood.

A flush worked, hot and a little uncomfortable, down the back of his neck. He shifted on the couch for a second, then got up like he was going to take a look at the bed as well.

He didn't really know how to explain Proko, who he was. What he was. He didn't really know how to explain the events that had called Proko to him. But he wanted him here, didn't want him to leave. He didn't want to do anything that might drive him away.

So he stood, maybe a little closer than he ought to, and looked into the quiet little bedroom that was theirs, for the time being. It was dominated by the bed, which was fairly large. Big enough for two growing boys. They could make it work. He could be decent about all this, and not drive Proko away by acting strange or weird at him.

He turned his head toward Kavinsky. He was close; close enough for Proko to breathe him in. That had been new - all of the senses that came with this body had been new - but he liked it now. He eased a bit closer, like he might lean on Kav or use him for support as he turned toward the room again, looking at it with Kavinsky.

"Hopefully it's comfortable," he lamented softly. Discomfort had been new, too.

Kavinsky wasn't looking at the bed any longer, in that moment. His eyes were locked on the pillar of Prokopenko's throat, the sweep of it into his shoulder, how his clothes hung off him.

"Standard issue," he said, after too long of a pause. "We'll get used to it."

Light rippled across his faint markings, illuminating them before they all but disappeared again. He could feel Kavinsky looking at him.

"We get used to many things."

But he didn't sound upset or disappointed; since finding a way to be here with this strange boy, Proko had experienced a great many things he never had before.

He longed to reach out, to touch the flutter of iridescence on Proko's skin. Then it was gone. Kavinsky moved away from the door and went to retrieve their bags, bringing them into the bedroom.

"Come on. I hate living out of a bag. Let's try and settle and then...I don't know. We'll eat something that isn't rations. We'll turn in early. We'll figure it out, I guess." He'd try to figure out how to lay next to Proko when all he wanted was to put his hands on that fair skin.

Proko picked up his bag so he could start unpacking. It didn't take long; he didn't have a lot of things.

"I will eat anything that is not a ration."

Maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but he was tired of the bland taste, no matter how nutritional they were.

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