Chapter Text
YEAR 4 ON BOARD THE STRATOSPHERIC
Cepheid arrives at Medbay early. Not as early as the people who start at the kitchens, but…early.
They like the solitude. Technically, they’re still studying, but someone also needs to do the actual work of making sure the kitchens are supplying the Stratospheric with nutritionally complete foods, including those with allergies, pregnant people, and young children. They use the time Medbay is relatively quiet and nobody is taking appointments to do their modules, picking at their breakfast.
Besk appears in the doorway at seven-thirty and gestures at them like she’s drinking from a cup, and Ceph places a hand over their heart in gratitude. There’s a brick of tea in the break room, and sometimes the two of them share a pot at their separate desks.
Tiramisu: Heyyyyyyyyy Ceph are you in today?
Cepheid: i am, why?
Tiramisu: We’ve been talking about watching Exordia for months and I think if you’re free after work we should watch it.
Cepheid: sure, i’d like that. i finish before you do, i’ll grab dinner.
They’ve been friends with Tirah since…well. They kinda knew her from school, they were friendly , but they weren’t friends. But then Tirah had met Sal in their first year on the Stratospheric, and Sal was their best friend, and they’d slowly become a trio – Ceph, Sal, and Tirah, Tirah brilliant and forthright and dragging her more reticent best friends in her wake.
Well. At first. The problem is, Tirah is kind and funny and very very pretty. She doesn’t care that Ceph’s blunt, or quiet, or that they’re not very exciting. Next to people like outdoorsy and adventurous Miles, or sweet and fiery Anne, or smart and funny Besk, Cepheid is a wholly unremarkable person. But they have something none of the others do, which is that Tirah inexplicably goes out of her way to spend time with them.
The problem is also that Tirah asked out Salutation two years ago, and they’re incredibly loved up. Sal was besotted with Tirah pretty much the moment they met, he was basically delirious with joy when she asked him out, and Ceph can’t begrudge Sal anything that makes him happy. They’re jealous, sure, but their friendship with the two of them matters more than their unrequited feelings.
The morning passes quickly. People don’t take food seriously enough – Besk would subside entirely on protein bars and coffee if they let her get away with it – and when people get stressed or need to cut corners, meals seem to be one of the first things to go. But people need nutrition, and they need enjoyment, and one of the best things about their job was being part of a complex supply chain to produce both.
This is what they bonded with Sal about, back on Earth. Food – Sal cooks, he’s really good at it, but when Ceph got into food science they both started to learn what sustains people. Together, they and Sal can fuel a colony, not just with the nutrients necessary for survival but with the comfort necessary to really thrive.
Speaking of Sal, they realise he’s standing in their little office when he announces himself by depositing a container on their desk with a pronounced clunk. For a six-foot-four man built like a brick shithouse, Sal is surprisingly quiet on his feet. Everything about Sal seems like he shouldn’t be sneaky – he’s tall and broadshouldered, pale, with a mop of dark-gold curls that make him easy to pick out of a crowd.
“Hey, nerd,” Sal smiles, sitting down in the vacant chair that’s theoretically for patients, “try this on for size, straight from the R-and-D lab.”
Ceph immediately reaches for the container and cracks it open. It’s stir fry, with a rich dark sauce and slices of pressed soy protein and a small quantity of actual herbs. It’s the sauce, they guess, that’s the new addition. The herbs will be from Hydroponics – fresh greenery is a rare commodity, but they’re worth the time and space needed to cultivate them in terms of their impact on morale and the crew’s health.
“Oh,” they say thoughtfully, “that’s not fish sauce, but it tastes like it.”
Sal smiles broadly, sitting up a little straighter. Sal’s easy to like. He’s not stupid by any means, Ceph privately suspects he’s smarter than most of Engineering, but he’s straightforward. Sal gets up every morning, spends his day in the ship’s kitchens providing for other people, and he does it all with a smile.
“It’s good,” Ceph adds, “umami, but not…too salty. It’s thick, though, I don’t know if you were going for this texture. You try it.”
Taking back the container and a fork, Sal takes a bite and then nods. “The flavour is what I was going for,” he says, “but it’s too thick. My mistake, I thought the sauce looked thin and added corn starch. Do you want the rest?”
“Split it with me,” Ceph grins at him. Sal’s probably hungry, because he’s always hungry, but the stir fry is good and Sal took the time to come and share it with them.
The two of them sit in companionable silence, demolishing the container between them. Sal’s golden eyes are fixed on the middle distance, more than likely thinking about how to improve on his next attempt.
There’s a smudge of sauce at the corner of his mouth, just on his lower lip, standing out against his pale skin. “You got some there,” Ceph smiles, and Sal promptly attempts to clean it off with his tongue and misses it entirely.
Shaking their head, Ceph reaches across and grabs Sal by the face, swiping their thumb over the offending smudge. Sal tolerates being grabbed with not a word of complaint, just a silent eyeroll and a low rumble of a laugh.
“And I’ll wash behind my ears too, Auncle,” Sal says, mocking, and Ceph laughs and sits back in their chair, waving him off. He sticks his tongue out, eyes crinkling, and then collects the empty container as well as the one that held Ceph’s breakfast.
Ceph watches him leave, smiling absently. Truthfully, they don’t know who or where they’d be without Sal – Sal had encouraged them to apply for the Stratosphere’s crew in the first place, and when their resolve faltered, it was always Sal who slung an arm around their shoulders and said Cepheid, think of all the alien plants you’re going to work out the macros of, nerd.
They return their attention to their holopalm, and realise there’s still a smudge on their thumb, transferred from Sal’s face. Unbidden, Ceph recalls the prickle of stubble against their fingers and Sal’s deep, resonant chuckle. The urge to lick their thumb arrives (what the fuck, Cepheid) and passes as quickly as it came.
They don’t have time to dwell on it. Ceph wipes their hand on a wet wipe and gets to work.
–
When they emerge from their office, Tirah is outside, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she announces, “do you wanna pick up dinner and then head back to mine? I’ve got a bottle of mushroom wine, we could have a glass each?”
That sounds nice. They could use one of the public lounges, but then they might get interrupted or someone else might end up watching with them. And selfishly, Ceph wants Tirah’s company all to themself.
Tirah’s quarters are also really nice. She has a rug from Earth that’s the coziest softiest thing Ceph has ever touched, and she’s got nanoprinted frosted lamps that cast soft, dreamy light over the room. Ceph’s quarters are nice, but sitting in a halo of light on Tirah’s couch with a rug over their knees, they can convince themselves that Tirah does actually want their company for its own sake.
Tirah grabs them every time something fucked up happens, which turns out to be a lot, and Ceph tries not to feel guilty about how much they’re enjoying Tirah clinging to them going nooooooo every time something messed up happens on screen.
They’d had a glass and a half of mushroom wine, and watched half of Exordia, when Tirah turns to them during the credits sequence and says “I have to talk to you about Sal.”
“Huh,” Cepheid says, tipsy and bemused, “in what way?”
“The way you’re in love with him,” Tirah replies impatiently, knocking back the last of her wine glass.
Cepheid inhales their own spit and starts coughing, thumping themselves on the chest. “What – Tirah, he’s your boyfriend!”
“That’s irrelevant,” Tirah says, like she is saying completely normal things and not something absolutely off-the-shits insane, “you are in love with him, aren’t you?”
They can’t be in love with Sal. They feel absolutely normal about Sal. They’ve felt this way about Sal since they were fifteen years old, sitting in the lounge and glowing under the fluorescents, talking about how we can eat to survive, sure, but what about eating to thrive, Cepheid –
“Tirah,” Ceph blurts out before their brain can catch up with their mouth, “I have feelings for you.”
Tirah blinks, hard. She opens her mouth as if to speak, then shuts it for a moment, as if mulling it over.
“You don’t have to – I’m happy just to be your friend,” Ceph continues, a little helplessly, “I wasn’t going to say anything–”
They’re cut off by Tirah putting a hand over their mouth. “We’re going to need to, um. Revisit that, but – I’m pretty sure you do have feelings for Sal, right?” she frowns at them, looking the most disconcerted they’ve ever seen her, “I see the way you look at him when you think he’s not looking.”
“Tirah,” Ceph shrugs off her hand, “he’s your boyfriend, and he loves you, so how could it possibly matter–”
“So you admit it,” Tirah smiles, and Ceph’s heart drops into their stomach at the same time as it stutters violently, “and if you can have feelings for him and me, why can’t he have feelings for me, and for you as well?”
Ceph opens their mouth to argue, searching for a rational rebuttal. “Because he’s Sal, ” they say eventually, “and I’m…”
Tirah gives them a look of profound impatience. “And you’re you,” she says, “is it really so hard to imagine that someone might find you attractive? You’re loyal, you’re reliable–”
“Reliability hardly sets people’s hearts a flutter,” Ceph deadpans, “it’s not very dashing or sexy.”
There’s a gravid pause. Tirah scratches the back of her head. “I’m people,” she says eventually, “Sal’s people.”
“Oh,” Ceph says, because there’s nothing they can really say to that, “um…”
Tirah looks shy, which is a new expression on her. They didn’t think Tirah was capable of being shy, and they are seized by the frankly insane urge to smooth out her scrunched brow with the pad of their thumb.
“You can date him if you want,” Tirah says after a moment, “we’re not…our relationship’s not open exactly, that’s the wrong word, but dating other people has always been on the table. We just need to talk it over, first.”
“And you talked it over,” Ceph says slowly, “me dating Sal.”
“Mmm-hm. He was mostly concerned that you didn’t like him back.”
Ceph exhales slowly. “And you – okay. This is, um. A lot? That you – that you both…”
Tirah pulls a face. “Yeah. I thought I was gonna like…square things with you and Sal, not that you’d…”
“...why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re you,” a flicker of a smile, “I can picture you liking someone as serious as Sal. I’m not serious at all.”
Ceph lets out an astonished laugh. “I like that you’re not serious. Sal’s not serious either, unless it’s actually important, he’s not…a downer.”
“You’re not, either,” Tirah elbows them gently, “you just don’t perform enthusiasm if you don’t mean it.”
The two of them lapse into silence. The holoscreen, abandoned, has turned itself off. Ceph scratches the back of their neck and crosses their legs.
“And now I gotta talk to Sal again,” Tirah sighs, “cause we hadn’t discussed the possibility of us dating the same person.”
Ceph snorts. “Should’ve prepared for every possible contingency and given yourself an anxiety attack, which is what I would have done.”
Tirah laughs, tipping sideways so her head is pillowed on their shoulder. Ceph puts an arm around her, trying not to think too hard about how easily she fits curled up against their side.
“You should go home,” Tirah says eventually, “it’s late, and we both have work tomorrow.”
They don’t want to go. They want to stay in Tirah’s lounge, in their little halo of light, and not think about what just happened, or what might happen after they leave this room. But they do have work tomorrow, and the consequences of this entire conversation, so they reluctantly extricate themselves and stand up.
Tirah bounces to her feet and reaches up to give them a hug. She doesn’t have to reach far – Tirah’s quite tall – and she doesn’t half-ass hugs, so Ceph feels uncomplicated about wrapping their arms around her waist and giving her a proper squeeze.
And then they’re out in the corridor, veins fizzing. They could try to go to bed, but there’s no way they’ll sleep, so they shove their hands in their trouser pockets, pick a direction, and walk.
Cepheid: Miles, help. I’m in a situation.
Chamomile: 🤔 ???
Cepheid: I was watching TV with Tirah and she said she’d picked up that I have feelings for Sal.
Chamomile: well do you
Cepheid: Yes. And then I told Tirah I have feelings for her.
Chamomile: 🙃🙃🙃 this is getting messy
Cepheid: Miles I hate to tell you this but it gets worse from here
Chamomile: 🫖☕ spill
Cepheid: Apparently Tirah and Sal had a conversation about Sal potentially dating me and since apparently Tirah also likes me so they have to have a conversation about that.
Chamomile: congratulations 😊
Cepheid: NO THIS IS INSANE. WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS
Chamomile: ok so you like them and they like you
Cepheid: Yes
Chamomile: you get your back blown out?
Cepheid: MILES
Chamomile: 👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼
Chamomile: dumbass. the only situation here is you. this is a nothingburger of a problem ceph. they like you you like them and WHY are you asking documented no-romantic-feelings-haver about your love life
Chamomile: what is going through your head mate 👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼
Cepheid: Because your advice is good?
Chamomile: oh piss off 🫠 go get some sleep and then sort your shit out in the AM or i will come into your quarters and put you down with a plasrifle at point blank range
Cepheid: You’re a good friend as well as an asshole. 💖
Chamomile: die in a hole lol gn 🌙✨🌃
The next morning, they wake up, shower, and get halfway through tying up their hair before the events of the previous evening catch up with them and they waste a couple of minutes staring at the sink, blushing furiously.
Sal either isn’t at work, or he’s working further into the warren of the Stratospheric’s kitchens. Ceph spends an embarrassing amount of time lingering in the servery, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, and then gives up and heads to Medbay.
They graze on their breakfast while they study, a cup of tea courtesy of Besk cooling at their elbow. The scariest thing about their job is not knowing that will be available locally – they have the seed bank, and a certain amount of rations, but nobody knows what will take or what might be edible for humans when they arrive. It’s a problem they won’t know the extent of for fifteen years, so to a degree there’s no point worrying, but Cepheid worries anyway.
Still, they dream as well. They dream of crops that nobody on Earth has ever cultivated, of staple grains and local sources of protein and working with Geoponics and the Living Quarters to feed a growing colony not just sufficiently but well. They dream of delivering some new and alien foodstuff to Sal and watching him and Antecedent and Percolate and the rest of the kitchen crew figure out how best to serve it.
But dreams are just dreams, and in the waking world there are a raft of things Ceph needs to worry about so they can get to that glorious moment where they get to hand a new dietary staple to the kitchens.
Mostly, making sure they know what they’re doing – the Vertumna group couldn’t spare as much medical professionals as they would have liked, so Ceph and Besk and Tirah are studying and in Tirah’s case learning on the job. If they get this wrong, there are a whole litany of deficiencies and ailments that the colonists could end up with, so they can’t get it wrong.
They’re pouring over a textbook when they realise Sal is standing in the doorway, filling it entirely. Sal is nearly tall enough to knock his head on the doorways – Ceph is tall, but they only come up to Sal’s brow.
“Hi,” they say, and it sounds lame even as they say it. Sal looks sweaty and tired, his golden-brown hair stuck to his forehead, but when they look up at him he smiles.
“I had a really interesting conversation with Tirah this morning,” he says, without preamble, “I knew she was going to talk to you but I don’t think anyone expected the outcome.”
Ceph stares at their holopalm, thankful that it’s not terribly visible when they blush. Sal sits down in the spare chair. “And…how did that conversation go?” they venture, daring a glance at Sal.
“Well, dip. Tiramisu’s hard to faze and yet you did it,” Sal snorts, “it went…okay, well, I laughed for about ten minutes. That’s how it went. Are you okay? Tirah said you seemed frazzled.”
Frazzled is an understatement. “Yeah, uh…” Ceph exhales through their nose, “I’m kinda still adjusting to the idea that the both of you want to, uh…”
“Ceph,” Sal grins, “if you open the dictionary to “tall, dark, and handsome” there’s a picture of your face.”
“I’m shorter than you,” Ceph objects, finally tearing their gaze away from the holoscreen to look Sal in the face, “and there isn’t a dictionary entry for ‘tall, dark, and handsome”, that’s three words.”
Sal regards them for a long moment. “Are you seriously trying to reason away people being attracted to you? Ceph.”
Ceph grimaces, winding a strand of hair around one finger and pulling . “I don’t – I don’t know what to do now. Like…we’ve talked. Okay. Are we – are we together now?”
“I’d like to be,” Sal tips his head thoughtfully, “but you seem more stressed about this than anything else.”
“Sal, I’ve never even kissed anyone and now there’s two of you!”
Sal’s eyes crinkle. “Wait, not even that time we played seven minutes in heaven and you got locked in a closet with Percolate?”
Ceph splutters helplessly – they’d forgotten about that entirely. “I wasn’t lying! Perk’s hung up on Miles, which… man. Out of luck?”
“Oh no,” Sal laughs, “Miles is handsome but…oof, poor Perk. You know you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, right?”
A tension in Ceph’s chest eases that they hadn’t been fully conscious of until it was gone. “I feel better now you’ve said it,” they grimace, “so, maybe I needed to hear it. I just, I’m really nervous, and I just realised I never actually said that I do want to date you, and–”
“Ceph,” Sal grins, “it’s fine. You’re due a break, how about we go have a lunch date? It’s like going for lunch – you know, like we normally do, except it’s also a date.”
Ceph pauses. Their stomach helpfully lets them know they ate breakfast nearly six hours ago. “How is it being a date different to what we normally do?”
Sal mulls this over for a second. “Just the intent, although we could hold hands on our way there?”
“I think I can manage that,” Ceph smiles, rising to their feet.
Sal’s hand is clammy, but Ceph’s pretty sure their hand is shaking, so they call it even. Tirah’s out in the waiting room talking to Tonin, and she gives them both a sly grin and blows a kiss before going back to her conversation.
It’s…normal, is the thing. They’ve been having lunch with Sal multiple times a week since they were twelve. In this respect, very little has changed, apart from the tiny frisson in the air that quite a few things they had barely and very guiltily dared to imagine were possible.
Sal has all the good gossip. Some of it’s about Miles and Anne and wildly incorrect – Anne’s pregnant and Miles is the father, and there’s a lot of speculation as to why they’re not raising the ensuing child as a pair. Tonin is apparently seeing someone new, which is nice for him, and there are some downright weird rumours about Besk and Instance of all people. Both of them take their jobs way too seriously for any torrid love affairs, in Ceph’s opinion.
Of course, there’s Flulu and Geranium, who got married shortly after the new year and some people are still profoundly skeptical about the longevity thereof. Ceph isn’t one of those people – Geranium is easygoing, but there’s an argument to be made that Flulu might want a gentle-natured partner. They certainly don’t want a partner like them, and they don’t see why Flulu has to either.
At some point during the conversation, Sal’s leg shifts so his shin is pressed up against theirs.
Chamomile: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 i see you two over there
Cepheid: I’ll space you and they’ll never find your corpse.
Chamomile: anne will avenge me 😊
It’s all strikingly normal. Everything has changed, and nothing has. They’ve picked up their dishes and taken them up to the wash stations while Sal rambles about this new thing the Kitchens are trying thousands of times. They’ll do it thousands of times more.
Sal walks them back to Engineering and into Medbay. “Hold on a second,” he says, “your bun is fully about to collapse, lemme redo it. Turn around. Don’t sit down, I got this.”
Ceph turns around and feels Sal carefully remove the pins and elastic in their hair. There’s a pause, then Sal’s fingertips brush their neck as he redoes their ponytail, and they suppress a shiver.
“You’ve gone all tense,” Sal comments, “you okay?”
“Mm. That feels kind of nice, actually?”
Sal snorts, sliding a pin into their hair. “And that is how you react when things feel nice? You go all stiff?”
“I’m sure it happens to you occasionally,” Ceph says drily, “I’ve heard it’s a hazard of the equipment.”
“...I walked right into that one,” Sal sighs heavily, finishing securing Ceph’s hair into a low bun, “how are you this awkward and also this quick to nail me with a dick joke?”
Ceph turns to stare at him for a long moment. “Nail,” they deadpan, “Salutation, are you okay? Something on your mind you want to tell the class?”
“That was unintentional,” Sal says plaintively, “I promise if I come on strong it won’t be via wordplay because I’m not very quick off the mark.”
“Come on what now, Sal,” Ceph grins at him, warming to their subject. The tension has bled out of them, and they feel more than a little lightheaded. Oh shit, they’re flirting. Oh fuck.
Sal looks unimpressed. “That was a stretch and you know it,” he grumbles, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I know something that’s not a stretch,” Ceph replies cheerfully, turning to face him, temporarily drunk on the thrill of being a little outrageous. Is this how Tirah feels all the time?
“What, Ceph,” Sal is very poorly restraining laughter now, scrunching his nose, “you look way too pleased about whatever it is.”
Ceph seizes their temporary courage and steps forward, one hand on Sal’s shoulder, and it takes Sal all of half a second to get the idea and tilt their chin up. They’re one of the few people who don’t need to go up on tiptoes to hug him, so it’s definitely not a stretch.
It’s a soft, chaste kiss, and they’re both laughing a little. It’s nice, weirdly comfortable, like Ceph’s body knows what to do even though Ceph really doesn’t.
“You’re a smartass,” Sal laughs, “unfortunately, I like smartasses.”
“Not unfortunate for me,” Ceph smiles up at him, stepping away, “but unfortunately, we both have work to do. I’ll, um…see you?”
Sal rubs the back of his neck, smiling. “Yeah…maybe watch a holofilm with Tirah? Just…spend some time together with no intent other than feeling out the whole new thing?”
It’s a strange relief to hear him admit that they’re not the only one who needs to adjust. “That sounds really nice,” Ceph smiles, “I would like that.”