Summary: Harper reflects on who he is and who he was. Tyr gets lucky.

 Notes: Takes place sometime after Fear and Loathing in the Milky Way, but before the Finale. Massive thanks to Riana and TJ who did stellar, super-fast jobs of beta reading this for me.

 * * *

 So, ok, he admitted to Gerentex that he had been a bad ass back on Earth. He'd threatened old rat-face. He'd become vicious, fast, hard.

 And sure, he'd done that in front of Trance.

 He'd been prepared to kill the Nightsider. Lying on that floor, gun hand steady, he would have done it. He could have waited forever. He would have killed him in front of Trance.

 Twice.

 It had been all in the name of protecting Trance, and getting them out of there. And if he told himself that enough, he'd eventually believe it.

 Harper growled under his breath, tossed the circuit board across the room, and slumped back against his bed.

 Truth was, he hadn't felt that out of control in years. Well, at least when he wasn't under the influence of something or some substance. He'd become so angry so quickly, felt the familiar twitchy agitation to just take what he wanted. He'd wanted rat-boy off his ship, he'd wanted Trance safe, and those were fine.

 More disturbing though, he'd wanted that diary. He'd wanted the money he was owed. He'd wanted to make sure that no one would ever try to control him again. He'd wanted to kill to make sure that no one else got that proverbial hunk of cheese.

 The point was, the facade he kept up, amiable, smart, essentially harmless Harper, had slipped. Not far enough to cause real trouble, but it had slipped. He didn't want people to know that side of him. He liked the Harper he was now, the Harper who had friends who trusted him, who watched his back, who teased him, whose backs he watched. That Harper was in control of his own destiny. And most of the time, it wasn't too hard to keep that Harper in the forefront.

 He didn't try to fool himself. He wasn't dangerous like Tyr, who expected to win, who had the confidence to back up his skills. He wasn't like Dylan, who, when mad and self-righteous enough, was as confident of his own abilities and as menacing as Tyr.

 He wasn't even dangerous like Bek, fiercely protective and upright in her own way.

 In a fight, you wouldn't look to him first. And that was ok, best even.

 He knew though, deep inside, how dangerous he could be. It wasn't a danger born of confidence, arrogance, self-righteousness or protectiveness. It was deeper, darker, and nastier. It came from desperation, fear and a numbness that scared him more than anything.

 He couldn't let that take control again.

 Looking around his room, he took in the sprawl of parts, tools, clothes and trash. Nothing he could concentrate on, nothing to distract him, nothing, nothing.

 Picking up the nearest heavy object, he threw it across with room with an explosive yell. Fuck. Shit. He needed to get out. Work stuff out. If they were near a station or something, he'd hop on over, look for some kind of warm distraction. That wasn't an option though. Maybe the gym, ok.

 * * *

 Of course, it was hard to get to the gym when there was a huge wall of chainmail wearing Nietzschean standing directly outside your doorway. Only half-aware of his surroundings, Harper ran face-first into cold metal. Oooh. Very cold. Didn't Tyr's body heat warm that metal? It couldn't feel good wearing that all day.

 He backed away, leaning against the open doorway. "Tyr, what?" He couldn't deal with wordiness right now. Gotta go, gotta go, work out this shit in his head.

 Tyr looked down at him, face as impassive as usual. "Can you fix weapons?"

 Stupid question. "Can I fix weapons? Can *I* fix weapons? What do you think? You think I can maintain this ship almost single-handed, and not fix weapons? Christ, maybe you aren't the example of genetic perfection after all."

 Yeah, this was really smart, bait a guy twice your size, just because you're feeling a little self-destructive, have convinced yourself you're *dangerous*, and you're in a hurry. Very nice, Harper.

 Tyr stared at him silently for a few seconds, then sighed slightly. "Will you fix this?" He held up a force lance, somewhat different than the standard ship-issue.

 Harper rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. "Why?"

 "It's broken."

 Oh yeah, it was the perfect impassive standoff. Whatever. He had no time for this. "What will it get for me?"

 Tyr grinned slightly, and leaned down towards him. "My gratitude. I've heard it has its uses."

 Ooo-kay. He reached over and grabbed the lance. "Not standard ship issue."

 "No."

 He turned it around, looked closely. "Made some modifications?"

"Yes."

 "But you can't fix what's not working?"

 "Not as fast as you can."

 "Oh, is that flattery, Tyr? Or are you admitting you're not perfect?"

 "Part of perfection is admitting when the skills of others are more useful than your own."

 Harper almost smiled. "You just can't ever bend, can you? Fine, come on in, I got nothing better to do." He turned and retreated into his dark room, kicking clothes and random objects out of the way. He didn't hear the door close, so he turned around again. Tyr was still standing in the doorway. "Hey, come on. I don't have all day."

 "You're inviting me into your space?"

 "Yeah, yeah, just get on with it. Don't step on anything. I mean it."

 He half heard Tyr muttering about 'impossibilities', and then the door closing.

 * * *
 He sat hunched on his rumpled, tool strewn bed, quickly fixing the problems, then admiring the slight modifications Tyr had made. "It's a faster response time, right? For extension?" The lance extended quickly, shining dully. "And it's heavier. Packs more of a punch?"

 Tyr nodded, responding with a brief, "Yes."

 "I guess it works well for you. You want me to modify a few more for you? Spares are always good."

 Tyr's eyebrow's raised a fraction. "You're offering me your time?"

 Harper nearly threw the lance at the other man. So irritating sometimes. "Look, I offered, don't be an ass, Nietzschean. Say yes or no, I really don't care. I can make them faster than you can, and anyway, you probably want to spend your time honing that genetically perfect body. Only little geeks like me want to spend their time hunched over spare parts."

 Oh, and that wasn't pathetic sounding at all. And there the fucking ex-mercenary stood, impassive as ever, unwilling to even rise to the bait of a pathetic human.

 He felt his eyes narrowing, his body tensing. He'd had enough of condescending glances from this one. "Tyr. Get out."

 That startled the other man. "What?"

 "Get out. Now. I've had enough of your crap."

 * * *

 Tyr watched the boy's face go cold and hard. A harsh voice, not the almost-happy tone he was used to, grated out , "Tyr. Get out." Almost at the same time, Harper's breathing slowed, got deeper. It was obvious the boy was attempting to control some kind of impulses he was barely holding in check. Oh, this was interesting. This could be very, very interesting.

 Generally, Tyr had little time for the small human. He was good with the ship, and the others seemed to find his comments amusing or insightful even. Tyr saw somebody who was physically weak, which could not be fully compensated by with intelligence. On a practical level, he was glad Harper was a member of the crew. He gave them technological superiority. On a personal level, Harper barely registered as a blip.

 This change though, this was interesting. He wanted to push. So he did. "What?"

 "Get out. Now. I've had enough of your crap."

 "Why?"

 Harper growled softly, and said, "Just get out, Nietzschean. Or do I have to force you out?" He waved the lance slightly.

 He wanted to fight him? This little man? "You would fight me? You really think that you can?" This was still interesting, even amusing almost.

 Harper's body hunched slightly, tightening and hardening. "You ever think about Earth, Anasazi? Think about what it takes to survive there? Do you honestly think I just got lucky?"

 Maybe. He'd never thought about it. "Starvling humans are not difficult opponents."

 Harper started to laugh, a harsh sound, humourless. "Yeah. You would think that, Mr. Entitled Guy. You fight for dominance, for what you think is yours by right. You've never really fought for survival, have you? For that sick desperate desire to live one more day, even if it's not really living, but just basic survival. You've never watched everyone around you leave, die, get maimed, be tortured, some times at *your* own hand, until you're the last standing and still you want to go on, hating yourself for wanting that. Your *opponents* have never been people you could have, *should* have cared about, if you weren't so busy trying to claw your way through one more day."

 Tyr watched, uncertain, as the anger and the fight suddenly drained, and Harper slumped to the floor, muttering, "You're not the only one who's dangerous, Tyr. I've done things to survive that you'd never even imagine. Or stoop to."

 This was unexpected. This added -- new dimensions to his assessment of the human. True, he'd never consciously considered Harper's earlier days. Why would he?

 He knew now though, and he knew he was expected to try to offer some kind of apology, even consolation. It was -- awkward. But, he had pushed the human. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. "I'm the last of my pride." Did the human know what that meant? Really meant?

 "Yeah." It was almost a whisper.

 "You feel like you have to keep that part of you under control. The others shouldn't see it."

 "Yeah. No one ever said you were stupid, huh?"

 "You have." Tyr moved closer, closer, crouching down in from of Harper. "You don't have to keep in under control around me. If you want." What was he offering here? It was foolishness.

 "Why?"

 He shrugged. "I owe you. I've come to -- respect you."

 That garnered a small sigh. "Hard to say?"

 "Perhaps. I should go."

 "Yeah. Um, look, I'll work on those lances, have 'em ready in no time."

* * *

 Harper sat alone in his room. Odd. But maybe good. It could almost be good to have somebody who saw all facets of him, not just his fears and his engineering skills and his clothes.

 * * *

 That's how it started. He began to watch Tyr more closely. The Nietzschean was still cold towards him, at least in front of the others. When they crossed paths otherwise, Tyr would give him more openings, more respect.

 Sometimes he'd be in his work room, and Tyr would stride in, all confidence. He'd just stand there, look at what Harper was working on, make a few comments, and then leave. It was odd.

 It was happening right now.

 "You're updating the Droids again?"

 He nodded, remaining hunched over the work table.

 "What for?"

 "Better response times, some more defensive capabilities. Just stuff to make our lives a little easier. How are those lances?"

 "Fine." There was a long pause. "Thank you."

 He shrugged. "Hey, you might be watching my back one day, the better armed you are, the better off I'll be." It was kind of ruthless, but true.

 "True."

 There was more silence. Finally, slightly agitated, Harper stood up and turned around. "Why are you here? I mean, you come and make this awkward small talk, and it's weird. I don't get it. Is there something you want?"

 Tyr was standing by the doorway, and for a moment looked as though he would leave. Then, he crossed his arms and spoke. "I'm not certain. You mentioned before that you could be dangerous. I would like to see that. You deny part of who you are. That is not good."

 Harper nearly laughed. "So you're here because you care about my emotional health? Give me a break, Tyr."

 They stared at each other for a few more moments.

 "You," pause, "Intrigue me."

 "Me?"

 "You display physical weakness. You are flippant. You can be irresponsible."

 Well, that was really blunt. "Oh. Thanks."

 Tyr grimaced. "I never noticed you. Why would I? Your role is to keep the ship and weapons in order. Outside of that role, I had no interest in you."

 Past tense, huh? "And?"

 "And then in your room...you were different. A survivor. You survived because you were the fittest. I underestimated you. I want to reassess my evaluation."

 "Why?"

 "It is tactically unwise to underestimate your allies."

 "Yeah. Whatever, Anasazi." He turned back to the table. "Fine. Let's hang out, share our inner thoughts. That want you want?" Silence, and he assumed Tyr had picked up the sarcasm and left. Then, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, turning him.

 Tyr was half-smiling down at him. "I was thinking more along the lines of some sparring."

 * * *

 So, there they were, in the gym, 'sparring'. Harper preferred to call it 'Kicking Harper's ass', but hey. What did he expect? On the other hand, it really was nice to watch Tyr move. The guy had grace, and sure, some of it had to be natural, but the rest was practice.

 Moving back, taking a breather, he wiped his hand across his forehead. "Sparring, huh? How long do you practice a day to stay this good?"

 "Hours. If I can. You're not bad. You're holding your own."

 Harper laughed weakly. "Sure. Whatever."

 Tyr shrugged. "You shouldn't be unrealistic. You're out of practice, you're smaller. You do well holding up right now. Others wouldn't last as long."

 Well, that was some kind of backhanded compliment anyway. Tyr was giving him some credit. He nodded. "Thanks. I should get myself back into shape though. Maybe we could practice?" It was a pretty bold suggestion, but he figured that if anyone could improve his fighting skills, it would be Tyr.

 The taller man nodded slowly. "Any specific goals or enemies?"

 No way was he going to talk about his fear of Magog right now. "No. Just general competence, you know."

 "Fine. Tomorrow. Same time. Wear appropriate clothing."

 Then Tyr was gone, leaving Harper smiling at the subtle crack at his dress sense. Well, not everyone had the body to pull off chainmail, leather pants and various weapon accessories.

 * * *

 The practice sessions were killer. His body ached, he was tired, and Tyr sometimes pushed him too far. The goads, the taunts, they made him mad. They made him lash out. And when he did it wrong, Tyr would stop, explain, demonstrate, and then taunt him some more.

 He got better. He worked out his anger, and let older parts of him show through. His body remembered old tactics, and sometimes he even surprised Tyr.

 The first time he managed to get Tyr to land on his ass, he jumped around, happily crowing his triumph. A few seconds later, he found himself pinned to the floor, arm screaming in agony, with Tyr growling in his ear, "You would never have turned your back on an enemy on Earth, would you? This may be a game between us, but it won't always be me."

 He knew that, but Tyr really had to learn to loosen up sometimes. "Hey Tyr, how does that metal stay cold? Doesn't it bother you all day?"

 Tyr let him up, and walked towards the exit. "It's stimulating. See you tomorrow."

 Stimulating, huh? Sure. Ok. Freak.

 * * *

 If he really got down to it, he could admit that while the chainmail cold wasn't stimulating, Tyr was. How could anyone watch those muscles move, that straight-backed walk and not get stimulated?

 If they could get past the cold attitude, the arrogance and the hard mask that Tyr kept up, anyway. He'd admired Tyr's abilities and physique before, in a sort of off-hand detachment. He hadn't wanted the Nietzschean, no. He'd wanted Tyr to stay away from him, yes. But he could still feel approving of his physical form.

 Now, they weren't quite friends. They were allies. Tyr helped him, he helped Tyr, and they did it because they wanted to, not because Dylan or Bek insisted. It was a good change. Tyr said it made the team more formidable. Harper had to agree.

 It was nice too, to have someone who saw all sides of him. And Tyr almost did. He didn't deny Harper's propensity towards physical violence sometimes, and he didn't mind when Harper let his amiable exterior get truly caustic. Harper couldn't be that around Dylan, or Beka, and especially not Trance. Rommie was a possibility, but then, it wasn't a good idea to piss off a whole ship. And he really didn't want to test Rev. Nope.

 Tyr accepted who he was, even if it was with the inevitable tinge of Nietzschean superiority. Harper began to accept Tyr, even if it was with the inevitable tinge of human cynicism and bitterness towards Nietzscheans.

 So, he wasn't all that surprised when he started to think that Tyr was 'stimulating'. He wasn't above swinging both ways. His early life had taught him to get pleasure when and where he could, just like it had taught him to take the advantage whenever it appeared. Tyr was hot, Tyr let him loosen his control a little, and he was sure that Tyr would be dynamite in the sack.

 With another Nietzschean, anyway. Harper wasn't so optimistic and unrealistic to believe that Tyr might actually think he was a potential bed partner.

 Then again, experience had taught him that it never hurt -- at least too much -- to ask. He wanted, he could ask, and maybe he could have. Tyr might even see it as a compliment.

 Right.

 * * *

 The next time Tyr came into his workroom, Harper was waiting. Not consciously, no, but he'd been slightly anxious and energised since his decision.

 "What are you working on?"

 "Upgrades to the internal defence system."

 Tyr nodded, approving.

 Harper put down his tools, removed the work glasses, and straightened up. He calmed himself, looked Tyr in the eyes, took a deep breath, moved closer, reached up, pulled Tyr's head down, and kissed him. Hard. He'd spent hours figuring out the right kind of move to make. He'd thought about smooth, shy, accidental and aggressive, finally settling on direct.

 Apparently, it had been the right choice, and he silently congratulated himself. Tyr wasn't pushing him away. Fingers were now flexing and grasping in his hair, and teeth were gently biting his lip. Perfect. He pulled back.

 "I have a room. And a bed."

 A snort. "Your bed is covered with circuitry and metal."

 Harper grinned. "You're covered in metal."

 Tyr pulled him closer, and growled softly, "I can take it off."

 "I can take the stuff off my bed."

 "Why waste the time?"

 Harper smiled again, and nodded. "Your bed it is then. Let's go."

 * * *

 His loose clothes were apparently a lot faster to take off than Tyr's ensemble. Or maybe Tyr just wanted to give him a little show. Harper sat on the end of a bed that was surprisingly large, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, smiling. Tyr removed weapons first, then his belt. The metal shirt was shucked off and tossed across the room. Harper's grin widened. Yeah. He liked the show. He'd have to be blind not to like it.

 Boots, hastily undone, were left on the ground. The leather pants were next, and oh, what a surprise, Tyr liked the feel of leather directly against his skin. Wow. Ok, he really liked what he saw.

 "I gotta say, I'm kind of surprised you took me up on the offer."

 Tyr smirked a little. "It was a well executed offer. I was hoping you'd make it soon."

 Huh. Figures. Arrogant, even now. Especially now. "Well, I'm glad you thought it went smoothly. After all, I practised on Dylan and Beka before I got the confidence to try it on you." He really couldn't resist the tease.

 Tyr moved closer, apparently tired of just being eye-candy. "You lie too much." He leaned down, and uncurled Harper, pushing him up the bed, and then down onto it. "But I think I will ignore it for now."

 Harper wriggled a little as Tyr straddled him. He let his hands wander up the other man's forearms, squeezing randomly. "You like what you see?"

 That got him another smirk. "Do you always need reassurances?"

 Harper laughed. "Nope. But you're kind of taciturn."

 Tyr leaned down, and licked across his lips. "You are pleasing to the eye."

 "Great. Let's get to it." Direct had worked before, maybe it would work -- oh yeah, it worked again. Tyr's tongue was on his lips, his teeth, and then in his mouth, hot, determined and good. Harper moved his hands to the broad chest in front of him, stroking, pinching slightly, and then moving to lightly circle dark nipples. Tyr growled into his mouth, licked his lips some more, and then moved to the side slightly. He brought Harper with him, rolled back, and let Harper's weight drop down.

 Yeah, oh yeah. Hot, hard chest beneath him; hard, strong legs curled partly around him and thick, hard, hot cock brushing against his. Perfect. Perfection. Tyr's hands were on his back, then his ass, pulling him closer, coaxing a rhythm that suited them both. Hot mouth and sharp teeth worried at his neck, then his shoulder.

 He was really starting to get into the groove, when he was pushed over, onto his back again. "Hey! That was going good!"

 Tyr grinned ferally down at him. Wow. Not everyone could pull off that feral look. Then, lips were on his chest, then his nipples, and a warm hand curled around his cock, and began stroking hard. Ok. Yeah. He could go with this too. Teeth grazed him, and hair tickled his sides, a bizarre contrast to the rough hand jerking him.

 He moved his hands to Tyr's shoulders, and let his nails scratch lightly, then harder. Tyr groaned into his chest, and swiftly moved down, and Harper's cock was surrounded by wet heat and fine suction. His hips, previously lazily moving, bucked up hard. "Oh shit! Tyr!"

 This was good, so good. Tyr held his hips down, and Harper raised his head to look, taking in the sight of the dark head just as Tyr swallowed, throating him. He groaned, and grasped thick, braided hair in his hands, pulling too hard, he knew, but he couldn't stop.

 Fingers pressed behind his balls, and that, combined with tongue flicks, suction, the occasional throating, was too much, too good, and so Harper just let go, shaking, moaning and clenching his fingers as Tyr swallowed.

 Slowly, he unclenched his fingers, and then smoothed them across Tyr's forehead in apology. Tyr looked up, and smiled.

 "Mmm, good. Thanks." He reached down, trying to pull the heavier man up. "Come on up, think I have something for you."

 "What?" Tyr moved upwards, brushing his hard cock against Harper's belly on the way.

 "Oh, it's a surprise. I think you'll like it. I think I'll like it." He nudged Tyr over onto his back. It was surprising how easy he was to move when he wanted to be.

 Tyr really was gorgeous, especially with the sweat sheen on his skin, and the almost concealed look of anticipation and lust on his face. He figured that Tyr liked it a little rough, judging from his propensity to bite. So Harper leaned down, bit Tyr's earlobe, climbed on top of him, and proceeded to leave as many small marks as possible all over that dark chest.

 Tyr's hands grasped his legs, tight but not too painful. Harper moved around, biting, licking, soothing, biting again, and not once doing more than accidentally brushing Tyr's cock.

 "Harper--". The words were cut off with a grunt, and then groan as Harper bit slightly harder, licking the marks softly afterwards. He continued to play, brushing Tyr's cock a little more often, enjoying the jerks of the body under him, until hard hands pulled his head up.

 "Harper, damn it--"

 He put his fingers over those amazing lips. "Shhh. Ok." Tyr's eyes were dilated, and he was breathing fast. Ok. Enough teasing.

 Shifting further down, he licked his lips, then thoroughly wet his fingers, bent closer, and licked slowly along the underside of Tyr's cock. That brought a small growl and some shifting. He licked back up, and sucked in the head, taking a minute to consider the taste. Then he really went to work. One hand wrapped around the base of Tyr's cock, making twisting movements in time with the suction.

 He circled spit-wet fingers behind Tyr's balls, then lower, catching them in the slight pucker. Sucking hard, he pushed one finger in, and twisted his other hand. He could multi-task with the best of them.

 It paid off too, Tyr's hand clenched hard in his hair, and he bucked up, pulling Harper closer to him at the same time. Harper did it again. Same results. One more time, a few hard sucks, and his mouth was flooded with salty-bitter warmth. Hands held him close, and he swallowed quickly, repeatedly, releasing Tyr when the fingers in his hair stopped clenching and started stroking. He was hauled upwards and arranged half on his side, half on Tyr.

 His fingers played across Tyr's chest, feeling the slightly hotter spots and indentations where he had bitten. Tyr made small contented noises in the back of his throat, and Harper knew he was echoing them.

 After a few minutes, he started to rise. "Thanks. I needed that. I'll let you get back to your regularly scheduled programming now."

 Legs quickly tangled around him, and hands brought his head back down to rest against Tyr's chest. "Stay."

 He'd have to be insane to say no to that. Warm body, nice hands, good smells. He settled back down, relaxed, and went into a half doze, his hands still idly stroking over marks he'd just made.

 Suddenly, he grinned, and spoke into Tyr's neck. "Hey Anasazi, you think these marks will feel *stimulating* under the chainmail tomorrow?"

 Tyr rumbled under him. Was that laughter? "I hope so."

 End

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