Well, current quartermaster. It’s only a matter of time until he tries to challenge Jay for his position as captain again.
But Asch Albright is an erratic force that goes against everything Jay stands for. A hurricane that sweeps up everything in his way if you’re not careful enough, a man with his own principles that doesn’t waver when questioned, and beats anyone who dares to until they can no longer speak.
Jay became captain out of respect from his crew, whereas Asch rose to the title of quartermaster by instilling fear.
Most of the time though, despite his reckless tendencies, Asch is predictable in his reactions.
But often he’d start doing things that question the way Jay thinks about him, that completely upends what grasp Jay thinks he’s had on Asch’s perspective and ideals.
Eugene takes a deep breath, listening closely to the cacophonous, yet oddly melodic tune that emanates from the speaker. A symphony of traditional flute music accompanied by the upbeat cymbals, rising slowly with each second. His heartbeat picks up as he waits for the music to reach its crescendo, where he'll begin his intricate dance.
He closes his eyes, imagines the wind whipping around him, waves crashing across the sandy beaches of the widely known archipelago, with the gamelan orchestra playing from wooden huts.
The beating of the drums multiply, rushing towards the climax of the song before halting completely.
For Brad, time seems to slow to a stop. His breath catches in his throat, and his legs felt like they were turning into metal again, a horrific reliving of the past. He’s rooted in place, paralyzed with shock clearly written in wide pink irises, staring at wide shoulders draped in the standard Helios uniform, at a back he’s long since memorized each ridge of muscle, each scar that decorates every inch of his skin. Scruffy blond hair whips around with the wind, cigarette held loosely in between gloved fingers, the smoke dissipating into the air. Unrecognizable amongst the kindling sparks of fire and mist, amongst chunks of debris and the crackling of embers from the surrounding rooftops. Amongst all the destruction, the figure stands tall, unwavering.
That figure is Keith Max, Yellow West mentor, major hero. Former classmate, a companion of ten years and counting.
His lover of two years and counting.
Highly irresponsible, does things at his own pace and barely listens to anything Brad says, yet he fell for him all the same. He fell for his laidback attitude, his intuition that shines through beneath his listless exterior, he fell for lips coated in the thick, cloying taste of nicotine, for the heady scent of liqueur that clings to his very being.
A man that Brad has come to accept into his life, bearing all his weaknesses towards. A man that he may very well lose at this moment.
Gast has been very concerned about Will ever since The Incident, the one tragedy that stoked the flames of discourse between the mafia and the police. The one that sealed off any hopes of ever coming into agreement with each other.
The Incident that took their greatest leaders in a fiery explosion that to this day, the culprit is still unknown, and the damage stayed with the people and left a permanent scar that affected them to great extents.
After the death of Brad Beams, renowned sergeant of New Million's police force, the one man that single-handedly cracked down on crime organizations and corrupt officers, many of his underlings have changed, and not for the better.
gast only grins, leaning forward to kiss will's cheek and tighten his hold around the blond's waist, fingers running over his smooth thighs propped up in gast's lap as they watch the sun set in the horizon.
“i want to, though. how can i miss out on seeing my favorite merman?”
a small, abashed smile makes its way onto will's face as he loops his arms around gast's neck. his feet dip slightly in the water as he swings them idly. “you flatter me too much.”
“it's what i do best.”
will laughs, a sound as pretty as every other aspect of the beautiful creature. on good days like this, will would rise from the sea and use his legs, allowing gast to take him on a short walk around the beach 'til late noon, where they'd stop at the pier and gast would hold him tightly while they stare at the sky. it's a sight that gast looks forward to every time he comes back from the sea, to caress yellow locks bathed in golden light, to stare into warm caramel orbs that takes his breath every time they lock eyes. to admire the lavish green scales that glitter in the moonlight as will flaps his tail, sending small sparks of water to splash against his trousers.
he's a miracle that gast wishes to cherish as long as he breathes.
“OㅡOuch! Could you be a little gentler with that?”
Will rolls his eyes, and Gast squawks when he only presses the cotton harder against the wound.
“Don't be a baby, Adler. You can live with a little pain.”
“You care so little for meㅡOw!“
“Mind saying that again? I can't hear you.” Will holds up the cotton ball menacingly. A tiny part of him finds sadistic glee at the way Gast blanches at the horrific sight, the gunslinger shaking his head hastily to avoid Will's vengeful probing.
“IㅡI'm good,” Gast stammers, and Will gives a smile that's too innocent after he threatened his patient of the day. He puts away the cotton and moves on to wrapping up Gast's upper arm, muttering for the other to raise it for easier access.
“Besides, if I don't care for you, I wouldn't be here patching you up,” Will says, trying not to get distracted by the bright aquamarine that are Gast's eyes as he stares up at the junior sheriff. It's hard to keep a nonchalant, almost dismissive act when you're nursing the one guy that's been flirting with you since he's arrived.
Not that Will finds it endearing. Not at all. He didn't rush out the station with a first-aid kit when he saw Gast limping and holding his bleeding arm.
Keith Max smirks even as Brad glares at him with the force of a thousand blades. Like they're sitting casually at the coffee shop next door instead of staring each other down in an interrogation room.
He grins that smug grin where he knows he's won, even before the battle is over. That self-assurance that bleeds from his laid-back posture even with his hands bound irks Brad to no end, like an itch that refuses to go away. The handcuffed man drums his fingers against the tabletop, only inches away from the opened case file that serves as undeniable proof of the offense that landed him in this unfavorable situation in the first place.
Will inhales sharply, air passing his lungs in shaky puffs of breath. His heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage, its rhythm irregular, a frantic pace that jumps even faster when lips press wetly against the side of his neck, the grazing of teeth over pale skin pulling a soft groan from the writhing boy.
The grip he has on Gast's hair tightens as he lets his boyfriend explore his body as he wishes, holding back any whimpers that threaten to leave his mouth whenever the other presses a kiss against his neck. Every peck moves lower and lower, until his tongue laps languidly at his prominent collarbones. Will keens, back slightly arched off the bed when Gast sucks on his clavicle lightly.
He's almost overwhelmed by the layers upon layers of sensation that assaults him whenever Gast does something. It all feels so new and alien to him, the jolts of electricity that travels up his spine whenever lips graze over a patch of skin, the roar of blood in his ears as arousal begins to cloud his head, clogging up his sense as his mind fills with only thoughts of Gast mapping out every inch of exposed skin, and the trail of fire over his abdomen and the small of his back that follows Gast's hand where it presses flush against him beneath his shirt.
It's exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time, as Will worries that the first won't be as glorious as people describe it to be. Or worse, Gast wouldn't enjoy bringing Will to bed because he's acting so awkward and ruining the atmosphere with his timidness.
“No wonder you love these so much, Faith! They're delicious!”
Faith chuckles as he witnesses Dino pop another one of the milk chocolates in his mouth, bright blue eyes sparkling and if Dino had an actual tail, he can imagine it wagging as his mentor wolfs them down (literally) with careless abandon.
“Told ya'~ Èclaire never fails to make them taste good,” he says, fingers drumming against the countertop he's leaning on. “It's kind of addicting, ya' know? Sometimes I can't help myself from buying more than a box.”
“Is that why we have like, five of 'em in the fridge now?” Dino asks between munches. Faith barely resists the urge to squish his cheeks as they puff up from all the chocolate in his mouth. Cute.
“Maybe.”
“Too much chocolate isn't good for you, Faith!”
The rookie scoffs, “Say that to me when you stop ordering pizza every four hours.”
Gast exhales, one of relief as he steps out from the shower. A towel hangs around his neck, soaking up droplets from his hair, dark brown a wet curtain over his scalp as he runs his fingers over the strands to keep them in some semblance of order.
A hot shower never fails to make him feel better after a hard day of work. The scalding water that beats against his skin washing off his fatigue along with the dust and dirt that clung to his body. The steam that rises off the vapor, warm against his cheeks as the glass walls begin to fog up.
Cleaning up is more of a reward than it is a chore, the tickling scent of a fresh spring breeze easing his mind, as it signals that it's the end of his shift and Gast is free to spend the rest of his day as he wishes.
“Gast, are you done?” A voice calls out from the living room, and a smile begins to form on his lips.