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“Stop getting crumbs all over my bed.”
“Sorry, the mess was closing and Gozo wouldn’t let me stay to eat. I barely managed to convince him to let me grab any food.” Logan brushed a hand across the mattress, trying to rid it of the stray pieces of bread from his sandwich.
Harlock chuckled, glancing away from the book he was holding propped against the bed and giving the younger man a fond look. “He’s worse than his mother ever was. What were you so late for today anyway?”
Logan’s shoulders slumped a bit, his eyes darting around. “There was an… incident… involving Yullian, a pair of binoculars, and a rather large sack of flour.”
The captain blinked. “I don’t even want to know.”
“No, you really don’t.” Logan shoved the last of his food into his mouth and stood up to strip out of his leathers, reaching into the open drawer at the top of the dresser for a pair of sleep pants.
Harlock rolled onto his side to lean his back against the wall, his head propped on his hand, and watched. Sometimes when he watched Logan undress he would let desire simmer in his eyes, waiting for the moment when the younger man would turn around and see his heated gaze; sometimes he would whistle obnoxiously, coaxing out a laugh and enjoying the way Logan’s eye glittered in amusement; sometimes he stared with intensity, examining every movement and noting every flaw and mark and curve of the man’s body, memorizing every detail so that if his life remained immortal he would remember; sometimes, as he did tonight, he would watch the mundanity and feel warmth curling in his stomach and beneath his chest, a swelling of contentment at having the man all to himself. He knew there was a fond smile gracing his face, something sappy and rather unlike him, he thought, though Melody would probably disagree.
When Logan turned back to him, the younger man paused, a tiny grin quirking the corner of his mouth when he caught sight of the older man’s expression. “What?”
Harlock let the smile slip away and raised an eyebrow in question.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Logan asked, shifting his feet.
The captain ignored the urge to smirk, knowing exactly what the younger man meant but wanting to continue playing dumb for a moment longer; Logan was adorable when flustered. “Like what?”
A hand fluttered in the air, gesturing sporadically and Logan spluttered to find the words to convey his meaning. “I don’t know… just, like that. What are you thinking?”
Harlock looked at him seriously, letting sincerity color his voice. “That I am tremendously lucky to have you all to myself. That you look far more beautiful wearing my sleepwear than you ever do in those dark, overwhelming leather clothes. That I love you.”
There was a pleasant shower of pink dusting Logan’s cheekbones, his fingers plucking at the fabric of his pants as he listened to Harlock. No matter how much time passed he was still so easily embarrassed, something the captain took advantage of with glee on a regular basis. Logan would fidget and blush and stumble for words before eventually snuggling up close to bury his face in Harlock’s chest, hiding his expressions until he could compose himself.
This time was no different and after a minute of stammering incoherently over half-formed sentences he ducked his head and flopped face first onto the bed. A mumbled “that’s not fair,” managed to squirm its way out from the mattress and up to Harlock’s ears.
He grinned to himself and began threading his fingers through the other’s hair. “What’s not fair?”
Logan turned his face enough to breathe, but kept his eyes shut tight. “You… you always say things like that with a straight face. I don’t know how you can say it so seriously.”
“Because I mean them,” Harlock said.
Logan huffed. “I know that, but how come I can never say it? Why aren’t you embarrassed by it?”
Harlock smiled and hummed thoughtfully, reminded once again how young this man was, even without considering the captain’s extra hundred years. He let his hand drift down to the other’s back, rubbing his palm on Logan’s shoulders and up and down his spine soothingly. “Maybe you just need practice.”
The tips of his ears turned pink as well, apparently embarrassed even at the idea of saying anything similar. “… I… don’t think I could.”
Harlock chuckled. “Alright then. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”
~~~
“I can’t believe I’m sitting in space jail with all of you people.” Logan buried his head in his hands, muttering in exasperation.
“Aww, come on, don’t be like that!” Yullian said, patting his head fondly from where he was leaning against the wall. Various other members of the Arcadia crew that were scattered around the large cell chimed in their agreement. “We can be a lot of fun to hang out with, even crammed together down here.”
Logan ignored him, still ranting. “I can’t believe I believed you when you said it would be okay! What was I thinking?”
Yullian grinned maniacally. “Well I don’t know about you, but I was thinking it’d be a blast!”
“It’s going to be at least a day before Harlock can convince them to let us out of here. An entire day!”
“I guess it’s a good thing I snagged some snacks from the vendors when we went through that marketplace then, huh?” Yullian reached into his jacket and pulled out some rather smashed food items – a couple of pastries, a random vegetable or two, some strips of dried meat, and a small bag of nuts. “There’s not much, but we’ll all at least have something!”
Logan just groaned and buried his face even further into the arms folded across his knees while the other crewmembers dashed forward to grab their shares.
Just as the young man had said, it was nearly another twenty-four hours before the sound of familiar heavy leather boots echoed down the corridor and halted outside the bars of their cell. Logan looked up slowly from his position seated on the floor, watching their stoic captain with apprehension. He could not tell if his expression was one of anger or tightly controlled humor and his tone gave away nothing.
“Racing hover cars around the city?” he asked, an eyebrow raised imperiously.
Yullian was the one who answered, a bright grin plastered across his face as usual, the other culprits nodding along and giving one another high-fives. “You know how it is, Captain, sometimes things get a little boring out in these port towns. We gotta shake things up a little, get everyone’s blood pumping!”
The Captain looked unimpressed. “I suppose you won’t mind the compensation for the property damage coming out of your paychecks, then? You know, since you were doing it out of the goodness of your hearts?”
A collective groan spread through the room. Only Logan noticed the glint of amusement in the Captain’s eye as he watched them all, jolting a little when the gaze was finally turned back to him.
“I was wondering where you were,” Harlock said. “I suppose they dragged you along, somehow convincing you it was a good idea?”
Logan could only nod tiredly.
“Hey, you can’t throw us under the bus, your ass came with us willingly!” Yullian protested.
Harlock sent the man a withering glare, his voice steely. “Yes, only because you caught him unawares. The only place Logan’s ass should willingly be is by my side and in my room.”
Logan’s face flushed bright red in seconds and he reburied it in his arms again. “Captain, please…?” he mumbled, the sound lost among the hollers of the other crewmates, Harlock smirking all the while.
~~~
“I’m sure that sounded different in your head but please never say that again.”
“What? What was wrong with it?” Logan asked.
Kei just stared at him like he was stupid for a moment. “Really?” she asked.
Logan stared back for a long moment, expression slowly falling as he realized what she meant. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right, that didn’t sound right.”
Kei shook her head. “Yeah. I know you’re young, but think a little before you just start spewing things out. Why are we doing this anyway?”
“Because I need practice!”
“Practice?”
“Yeah.” Logan scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “The captain is always saying things to me, romantic things-”
Kei made gagging noises in the background, but Logan ignored her.
“-and I want to be able to tell him how I feel, too. I want to be honest like he is and say what I’m thinking but I always get too embarrassed. Just thinking about it is too much and I can’t think straight and I end up saying something stupid, if I can say anything at all.”
The blonde shook her head again, hiding a fond smile. “You’re ridiculous. Is it really that hard?”
Logan finally looked back at her, his eyes desperate and strained. “Do you really think I would be coming to you if it wasn’t?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But you’ll only get so good at it practicing with me, shouldn’t you just work up the courage and say something to him directly?”
Logan groaned, plastering his face to his palms. “You say that like it’s so simple.” He startled when a horribly familiar male voice spoke up from behind him.
“Well I’ve always found it simple, but then again, I suppose that’s the root of the problem, isn’t it?” Harlock strode forward and stood next to Logan, looking down at him and quirking a brow.
Logan peeked out at him from behind his hands, wondering just how much the captain had heard.
Harlock grinned brightly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Logan blushed furiously and turned away. Kei burst out laughing.
~~~
Logan had begun spending his free time in the mess under the tutelage of Gozo, learning the ins and outs of prepping food and cooking for mass numbers of people. It was a productive way to fill up his days when the captain was taking charge of the crew, a way to pass the time without getting lonely or bored. The cook was abrasive and temperamental but surprisingly patient and a great instructor. Within weeks Logan could take charge of the kitchen for an entire day, doling out orders to the staff and preparing many of the dishes himself with only minimum reminders or help from the head chef.
Harlock came strolling in on one such night, not long before the evening meal and sniffing at the various pots steaming on the stoves. Logan watched suspiciously as he began poking at utensils and food, examining ingredients and half-finished dishes. The younger man continued stirring the contents of the saucepan in front of him, glancing surreptitiously at the captain from the corner of his eye, nearly splattering the countertop, walls, and floor with the soup from the spoon when he saw Harlock about to add a dash of spice into one of the pots.
“What are you doing?”
Harlock paused in his movements, the dried herbs perched precariously on the edge of the spoon. “What?”
“You can’t put peppermint in there, that’s gravy!”
“…So?”
Logan gaped. “What do you mean ‘so?’ There’s no way that would taste good!”
Harlock looked like he was trying to be apologetic, but there was a playful glint in his eye. “I’m just trying to help.”
Logan reached over to turn off the burner on the gravy that was likely already ruined, dropping the spoon in the nearest sink and reaching for Harlock’s arm to begin dragging him out of the kitchen. “I don’t need your help and I don’t want it either.”
“Logan, you wound me. It can’t be that hard, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
The younger man paused. “Okay, fine. If you can answer my question then I’ll let you help.”
The captain perked up a little and looked at Logan expectantly.
Logan sighed. “Okay.” He pointed at one of the countertops, which had a few bundles of herbs on it. “Which of those is parsley, which is chives, and which of any of the items on the table would be best in French Onion soup?” He turned back to the captain.
Harlock was staring intently at the counter, his brows furrowed, and he eventually reached out and picked up one of the bundles. “These are the chives, that over there is the parsley, and that one there would be good in a French Onion soup,” he said, pointing to each item and smiling proudly.
Logan stared at him blankly for a long moment before returning to pushing the captain out of the room. “Get out, you don’t belong here.”
“What, did I get one wrong?”
“You got them all wrong!” Logan shouted.
“Come on, Logan, don't make me leave, you know you’ll be lonely without me.”
Logan huffed. “Captain, I love you dearly, from the bottom of my heart even, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”
Logan missed Harlock pausing on the way out, mistaking it for a brief stumble in the rush to push him from the kitchen. He also missed the satisfying, bright shade of red that had spread across the man’s face, a flush of embarrassment that colored his cheek bones attractively, before swiftly being taken over by a pleased smile that he carried with him for the rest of the day.