A Flower for Thaddeus

As the door hissed shut behind him, Thaddeus leaned against the wall for a moment, his heart racing and his cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair, which was slightly disheveled from his earlier embrace with Jasper. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he started down the corridor.

Unknown to Thaddeus, Captain Flint stood at the far end of the hallway, his cybernetic eye whirring softly as it zoomed in on the scene. He watched as Thaddeus emerged from Jasper's quarters, noting the engineer's flushed appearance and rumpled clothing. A frown creased the captain's face, his organic eye narrowing as he observed Thaddeus's uncharacteristically vulnerable demeanor.

As Thaddeus made his way down the corridor in the opposite direction, still oblivious to the captain's presence, Flint's hand clenched into a fist at his side. The implications of what he had just witnessed churned in his mind, a mixture of jealousy and anger simmering beneath his carefully maintained facade of control.

His hands shook as he fumbled with the door to his cabin, finally managing to get it open and stumbling inside.

The small space was dimly lit by a single lantern, casting soft shadows across the room. Thaddeus closed the door behind him and leaned against it, taking deep breaths to calm himself. The scent of sweat and fear still lingered from their last voyage, mixed with the familiar smell of oil and metal that permeated everywhere on the ship.

His head swam with conflicting emotions: desire, shame, uncertainty...

He sank onto his bed, burying his face in his hands as he tried to make sense of what had just happened between him and Jasper. Every touch and movement replayed in his mind like a vivid dream he couldn't wake up from.

Despite himself, his fingers traced over where Jasper had held him so tightly just moments ago - the warmth still lingering on his skin like a ghostly imprint 

"What is happening to me?" he whispered into the empty room, a soft groan escaping him as he rolled onto his side.

The realization that he harbored this kind of interest in Jasper hit him like a photon torpedo. Thaddeus Beaufort, who had always prided himself on his emotional detachment, who had scorned the very idea of romantic entanglements, was... attracted to Jasper LaBrant.

He thought back to their first meeting, how he had dismissed Jasper as just another bumbling crewman. But Jasper had surprised him, time and time again. His quick wit, his unwavering patience in the face of Thaddeus's prickly demeanor, his genuine desire to learn and improve.

Thaddeus remembered the warmth in Jasper's voice when he described the cosmic jellies, the gentle touch of his hands as they worked side by side in the engine room. He thought of their verbal sparring matches, how Jasper could match him quip for quip, never backing down but never crossing the line into cruelty.

In spite of attempts to resist these feelings, Thaddeus found himself becoming increasingly aroused by such memories. It was not just the physical aspects that sparked this reaction, but an encompassing attraction to Jasper.

As these thoughts swirled through Thaddeus's mind, he could no longer ignore his arousal. He allowed his hand to drift across his body, exploring the curves of his chest and abdomen before venturing further down. He began gently touching himself as he reminisced about each nuance of Jasper's caresses. His breath caught in his throat as he bit down on his lower lip; a low moan escaping him.

In his imagination, he envisioned Jasper leaning over him, their lips merging in a fierce and passionate embrace. Their bodies pressed tightly together as their heart rates synchronized. The sensation of Jasper's fingertips tracing a path down Thaddeus's back.

Logic was screaming for him to put an end to this, regain control over himself; however, it was too late - his body was in command. The ship's gentle swaying only served to heighten the sensations coursing through him. Each breath he took elicited thoughts of how Jasper would taste—every kiss laced with both fear and anticipation, intoxicating and addictive.

As Thaddeus rolled onto his side, the sheets felt cool against his heated skin. Every inch of him was tingling from an insatiable desire that only continued to grow. He could still feel Jasper's touch all over his body—it was as if those hands never left him, exploring each curve and hollow with aching precision.

His yearning for Jasper reached a boiling point—Thaddeus pushed himself onto his knees, head buried in the pillow, back arched to offer himself up as a tempting sacrifice. His face was buried in the soft pillow, his body taut with anticipation. With legs spread wide and flushed cheeks, he presented a picture of pure temptation and seduction that would drive even the most controlled person wild with desire.

Thaddeus couldn't see himself, but the tousled mess of his hair and the heated flush of his skin only added to the allure of his position. He rocked his hips back and forth, inviting a rough plunge that he knew would never come in reality - at least not tonight. Instead, his fingers slowly worked their way inside himself, stretching and preparing for what he craved most at that moment. 

Lost in the fantasy of Jasper taking him from behind, Thaddeus's mind clouded over with lustful thoughts and swirling sensations that enveloped him entirely. 

Outside in the corridor, Captain Flint paced restlessly - not able to shake off what he had seen either. His cybernetic eye flickered on and off in agitation as he thought about Thaddeus. The idea of them together burned into his mind like acid, refusing to budge an inch.

Taking a step towards Thaddeus's cabin door, Captain Flint pressed an ear to the wood, listening intently.

He could hear Thaddeus's soft moans, stifled by the pillow.

Flint's hands clenched into fists at his sides, the metal parts of his cybernetic limb humming softly in the quiet hall. He felt fury building up inside him, accompanied by an immense sense of envy. He tightened his jaw firmly, striving to suppress the anger that surged to engulf him.

After a few minutes, Flint pulled his ear away from the door. He needed to regain his composure, to contemplate his next move.

He had instigated this, perhaps unintentionally, but instigated it nonetheless. He should have kept Jasper away from Thaddeus sooner - or at least not let their relationship advance so far.

Flint paced back and forth down the hallway, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He clenched and unclenched his fists, attempting to dispel the fury that swelled inside him. Thaddeus and Jasper, entwined in a passionate embrace like star-crossed lovers - it was an image he couldn't shake.

As the minutes passed, Flint's anger morphed into something more potent - obsession. He became fixated on the idea of possessing Thaddeus for himself. Thaddeus had always been an irritant, a constant reminder of what was unattainable for him. The engineer was a striking beauty, and Flint had always found himself drawn to that beauty like a moth to a flame.

Flint had thought that the arrangement he forced Thaddeus into would be enough to control him.

Eventually, perhaps, Flint could even find a way to make love to Thaddeus. Find a way to whittle down the walls he had built around himself through coercion or force if need be.

But he hadn't expected Jasper.

Jasper. That foolish, infuriating man!

Daring to encroach upon Flint's territory, sneaking his way into Thaddeus's heart and bed. It was a game of dominance, and Flint was determined to be the top dog. No one had ever defied him before, let alone in his own ship.

If Thaddeus belonged to him, then he could have control over every aspect of his life - the attraction to Jasper would be erased, replaced with the chains of obedience that Flint would enforce.

He could feel himself getting hard just thinking about taking Thaddeus, about taking his revenge on Jasper by claiming the man Jasper desired. It made him hot just thinking about it.

Flint's heart pounded in his chest as he reached Thaddeus's door. The sound of Thaddeus's moans was still audible, the rhythmic sound of his self pleasure evident even through the door. 

With a deep breath, Flint turned away from Thaddeus's door and started down the corridor once more, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hall. He had to remind himself of his power, his authority, and what he was capable of doing when provoked.

Captain Flint's fury grew with each passing step as he made his way back to his own quarters. The envy was like a poison seeping into his veins, corroding his sanity, driving him to the brink of madness.

As he entered his chamber, he slammed the door shut behind him and paced back and forth across the room. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his cybernetic ones humming loudly with each movement.

Flint allowed himself to wallow in the fury for a moment longer before slowly calming himself down. This was not the time to lose control; he needed to have a plan, a way to regain his position of dominance over Thaddeus.

He began pacing again, but this time with a purpose. He needed to strategize, think of a way to best Jasper and win Thaddeus's allegiance.

But then he looked down at himself.

He was a pot-bellied older man with silver streaks in his hair, and he knew that he could never compete with the young, vibrant Jasper.

Flint's fury flared anew. He clenched his fists so hard that his cybernetic hand cracked like thunder. This was not fair - he had power, authority, wealth, and yet he could not seduce Thaddeus away from Jasper's grasp. He was emasculated, humiliated, and it made him want to destroy everything around him.

The next morning, Jasper woke up groggy and disoriented. He slowly sat up in bed, squinting against the bright light of the lamp on his bedside table. His mind felt foggy, as if he had drifted off into a half-sleep state the previous night and was only now fully awakening.

As the reality of the previous night began to seep back into his consciousness, Jasper's heart rate increased, and a blush crept up his neck.

Now instantly wide awake, Jasper grabbed both sides of his head, digging his nails into his scalp, as though he were trying to force the memories to the surface.

"Crap, crap, crap! What the hell did I do!?"

Shaking his head violently, Jasper tried to shake off the lingering images of Thaddeus, sprawled out on top of him, with his-"STOP!" Jasper audibly ostracized himself. He had to get out of the bed, away from the mess and the fragments of memories.

Once he managed to wriggle himself out of his sheets, Jasper stumbled into the bathroom, his eyes still darting wildly. He splashed water on his flushed face, trying to get ready for the day ahead.

Stepping into the hallway, Jasper was met with an eerie silence. The usual hum of the ship was muted due to them being docked, and the occasional hustle and bustle of the crew was conspicuously absent. No doubt, many of them were still on shore leave, though they were technically due back this morning.

Jasper made his way down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, one he very clearly needed.

As Jasper entered the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee provided a small measure of comfort. The space was uncharacteristically empty, though signs of recent activity were evident - a half-empty pot of coffee, crumbs scattered across the counter, a forgotten mug still warm to the touch.

The events of the previous night kept replaying in his mind - fragments of memory that made his face burn with embarrassment. He remembered Thaddeus helping him back to his quarters, remembered the warmth of the engineer's presence, but everything after that was a blur of sensation and emotion.

All he could do was assume the worst.

"Good morning, LaBrant."

Jasper nearly dropped his mug at the sound of Captain Flint's voice. The captain stood in the doorway, his cybernetic eye whirring as it focused on Jasper's face.

"C-Captain," Jasper stammered, straightening his posture. "Good morning, sir."

Flint stepped into the kitchen, his movements deliberate and measured. "I trust you've recovered from last night's... festivities?"

Something in the captain's tone made Jasper's skin crawl. "Yes, sir. Just a bit tired, that's all."

"Hmm." Flint's organic eye narrowed slightly. "And Mr. Beaufort? Have you seen him this morning?"

Jasper's heart skipped a beat. "No, sir. Not yet."

"I see." Flint moved closer, his presence somehow filling the small space. "You two seemed quite... close last night. I noticed Mr. Beaufort helped you back to your quarters."

"Oh, um, yes sir," Jasper replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I'm afraid I overdid it a bit with the ale."

"Indeed." Flint poured himself coffee, his movements deliberate and unhurried. "Very kind of him to assist you. Though I must say, I was surprised to see him taking such... personal interest in a crew member's welfare."

Something in the captain's tone made Jasper uneasy, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why. "Thaddeus is... he can be quite considerate when he wants to be, sir."

"Aye, that he can be," Flint raised an eyebrow. "You two seem to have grown quite familiar."

Jasper felt heat rush to his face. "We work closely together in engineering, sir. It's only natural that-"

"Of course, of course," Flint waved a hand dismissively, though his eyes never left Jasper's face. "Well, I do hope you're recovered enough for duty. We depart in three hours."

"Yes, sir. Fully recovered."

"Good." Flint took a slow sip of his coffee. "Oh, and if you see Mr. Beaufort, do remind him that we have a meeting this morning, we have some matters we need to discuss. Though perhaps he's still... resting."

The implication in Flint's tone was subtle but present, making Jasper's stomach twist uncomfortably. "I'll pass along the message if I see him, sir."

"Very good, LaBrant. Carry on."

As Jasper hurried from the kitchen, coffee clutched in his trembling hands, he couldn't shake the feeling that something in that conversation had gone very wrong, though he couldn't quite figure out what.

The engineering deck felt unusually warm as Jasper made his way down the familiar corridor, his heart pounding with each step. The events of the previous night kept flashing through his mind - fragments of memory that made his cheeks burn.

The soft hum of machinery grew louder as he approached, and then he heard it - the familiar sound of tools being sorted.

"Looks like Thaddeus is already awake..." Jasper mumbled to himself. He paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Thaddeus stood at his workbench, his back turned, fingers moving deftly over a collection of precision instruments.

"Good morning," Jasper managed, his voice coming out slightly hoarse.

Thaddeus stiffened almost imperceptibly, his hands stilling on the tools. For a moment, he didn't turn around. "LaBrant," he acknowledged, his voice carefully neutral. "I trust you're recovered from last night's... overindulgence?"

Jasper felt his face grow hot. "I... yes. Thank you for, um, helping me back to my quarters."

"Someone had to make sure you didn't end up sleeping in the cargo hold," Thaddeus replied dryly, finally turning to face him. His expression was composed, but there was a slight tension around his mouth that hadn't been there before.

"Right," Jasper said, shifting uncomfortably. "Listen, I ran into Captain Flint in the kitchen. He mentioned wanting to see you sometime this morning?"

Something flickered across Thaddeus's face - so quick Jasper almost missed it. Was it fear? Resignation? But then it was gone, replaced by his usual impassive expression.

"Did he now?" Thaddeus's voice was carefully controlled.

"Is everything alright?" Jasper asked, concern overriding his embarrassment. "You seem-"

"Everything's fine," Thaddeus cut him off sharply. Then, more softly, "Thank you for relaying the message."

Thaddeus turned back to his workbench, his fingers finding their way back to the tools with practiced ease. The dismissal was clear, but Jasper lingered, words burning on his tongue that he couldn't quite bring himself to say.

Suddenly, the brass speaking tube on the wall whistled sharply. Jasper crossed to it and pulled down the horn-shaped receiver.

"Engineering," he answered.

Zork's gruff voice echoed metallically through the tube. "LaBrant, get up to the forward cargo bay. Loading mechanism's acting up something fierce."

"On my way," Jasper replied, replacing the receiver. He glanced at Thaddeus's back one last time. "I'll... I'll see you later?"

"Mm," was Thaddeus's only response, his attention seemingly focused entirely on his work.

As Jasper headed for the cargo bay, he couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between them. Whether it was for better or worse, he wasn't quite sure.

The day dragged on interminably for Jasper. The cargo bay issue turned out to be a relatively simple fix - just a misaligned gear in one of the loading cranes. But as Jasper worked, his mind kept drifting back to the engine room, to the stiff set of Thaddeus's shoulders as he'd turned away.

"Hand me that wrench, would you?" Zork called down from his perch atop the crane. All six of his arms were occupied holding various parts in place.

Jasper tossed the tool up, barely registering Zork's grunt of thanks. Had he completely ruined things between them? The memories of last night were frustratingly hazy, but he remembered the warmth of Thaddeus's body against his, remembered wanting to pull him closer...

"LaBrant! Focus!" Zork's sharp voice snapped him back to reality. "You nearly dropped that coupling!"

"Sorry," Jasper muttered, tightening his grip on the metal component.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of routine maintenance tasks. At lunch, Jasper found himself scanning the mess hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of familiar red hair, but Thaddeus was nowhere to be seen.

The afternoon found him in the jefferies tubes, rewiring a faulty circuit panel. The confined space was hot and uncomfortable, but at least it gave him time to think.

The captain's words from that morning kept replaying in his mind: "My, you two have grown quite familiar." There had been something off about his tone, something that made Jasper's stomach twist uncomfortably when he thought about it.

"You're imagining things," he muttered to himself, stripping another wire perhaps more forcefully than necessary. "The captain was just making conversation."

But then why hadn't Thaddeus returned from their meeting? Jasper had passed by engineering several times throughout the day, and each time, the space had been conspicuously empty.

By late afternoon, he was helping Glix recalibrate the atmospheric regulators, the Jovian's gelatinous form shifting colors as they worked. Usually, Jasper found the alien's color changes fascinating, but today he barely noticed.

"Your mind seems elsewhere," Glix observed, their voice bubbling like thick syrup. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Jasper replied automatically. "Just tired from shore leave, I guess."

But he wasn't fine. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Thaddeus's face - the way it had shuttered closed at the mention of the captain's meeting, the careful blankness of his expression.

As evening approached and his shift wound down, Jasper found himself growing increasingly anxious. He hadn't seen Thaddeus all day, hadn't heard his voice through any of the speaking tubes, hadn't caught even a glimpse of him in the corridors.

Something wasn't right. He could feel it in his bones, in the way the ship's usual comforting sounds seemed somehow hollow and wrong.

When dinner time finally arrived, Jasper made his way to the galley, hope warring with anxiety in his chest. Maybe Thaddeus would be there, in the engine room, maybe everything would be normal again...

The cook wordlessly handed him Thaddeus's dinner tray and Jasper made his way down to engineering, each step feeling heavier than the last. 

Opening the door to the engine room, Jasper nearly dropped the tray in shock. After hours of absence, Thaddeus was there, methodically adjusting something in an open panel. But even in the dim light, Jasper could see the dark bruise blooming across his left cheekbone, the skin around it slightly swollen.

"Your dinner," Jasper said softly, his voice barely carrying over the engine noise.

Thaddeus didn't startle - he must have heard Jasper's approach - but his shoulders tensed slightly. "Just leave it on the workbench."

"Thaddeus," Jasper began, setting down the tray. "What happened to your-"

"Don't." The word came out sharp as a razor. "I walked into a door. I was careless. End of story."

Jasper took a step closer, his heart pounding. "A door." His voice was flat with disbelief. "You expect me to believe that you, who knows every inch of this ship by heart, walked into a door?"

Thaddeus's hands stilled on the panel. "What I expect," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "is for you to do your job and leave me to mine."

"But-"

"Enough, LaBrant!" Thaddeus snapped, finally turning to face him. The bruise looked even worse head-on, an ugly purple stain on his pale skin. "Not everything is your concern. Not everything needs your attention or your... your..."

He trailed off, his unseeing eyes wide with some emotion Jasper couldn't quite identify. For a moment, they stood in tense silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

Then Thaddeus turned away again, his movements jerky and uncertain. "Just go. Please."

That last word, barely a whisper, held such raw pain that Jasper physically recoiled. He opened his mouth to protest, to demand answers, but something in Thaddeus's rigid posture made him stop.

Instead, he turned and walked away, each step feeling like a betrayal. But as he reached the door, he paused.

"I'm here," he said quietly. "Whatever's happening, whatever you're not telling me... I'm here."

Thaddeus didn't respond, and after a moment, Jasper left. But his mind was racing, pieces of a puzzle he didn't want to solve starting to fall into place.

As Jasper worked on the upper deck, his mop moving in mechanical strokes across the brass plating, his mind kept returning to that bruise on Thaddeus's face. The image haunted him, made his stomach twist with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

His mop hit a large crate of scrap metal, the contents rattling. "Hey," he called out to Zork, who was supervising the deck cleaning. "Where do you want this box of scraps?"

Zork waved two of his six arms dismissively. "Just chuck it overboard. It's all junk from the repairs - bent pipes, stripped gears, that sort of thing."

Jasper peered into the box, his eyes scanning over the miscellaneous pieces of metal. Stripped gears, yes, but also copper wiring, brass fixtures, thin pieces of brass. His mind began to work, an idea taking shape.

"Could I... could I have it instead?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Zork stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You want a box of garbage?"

"Well, I mean..." Jasper shifted uncomfortably under the other's skeptical reptile-like gaze. "I like tinkering with things in my spare time. Might be useful."

Jasper hauled the box back to his quarters, his mind churning with possibilities. He knew he couldn't just sit by anymore, watching Thaddeus retreat further into himself. Even if this idea was small, maybe even stupid, it was something he could do. Something concrete.

When he shouldered open the door, Xan and Glix were already there, engaged in an intense game of Krax. Xan's tentacles were wrapped around the upper bunk's railing as she dangled upside down, her cards held close. Below her, Glix's amorphous form pulsed with strategic thought, their own cards hovering in their gelatinous mass.

"What's all that?" Xan asked as Jasper dumped the contents of the box onto his bed with a metallic clatter.

"Just some scrap," Jasper replied, already starting to sort through the pieces. He picked up a gear, holding it up to the light. "Thought I might try making something."

Glix shifted to a curious shade of blue-green. "Making what?"

"Not sure yet," Jasper murmured, though that wasn't entirely true. In his mind, he could already see it taking shape - delicate and intricate, like something from one of the curiosity shops they'd visited on Neon Prime.

He began arranging the pieces on his bed - copper wiring here, brass fixtures there, the smaller gears in their own pile.

Xan blinked all six of her eyes as she took in the array of scrap metal. "But...these parts are non-functional."

"That's the point," Jasper murmured, examining a bent gear with intense focus. "They don't need to be functional anymore. They can be something else."

Xan and Glix exchanged bewildered looks.

"Is this a human ritual?" Xan asked carefully, as if worried about offending him. "Collecting damaged machinery?"

Jasper couldn't help but chuckle. "No, not exactly. I just... want to try making something nice out of these. Something special."'

"Humans are very strange," Glix observed, their form rippling with genuine curiosity. "You find value in broken things?"

"Sometimes broken things can become beautiful," Jasper replied absently, already lost in his work as he began arranging the pieces across his bed. "You just have to see the potential in them."

"Seems wasteful," K'Vor grumbled from his hammock across the room, his crystalline form catching the light as he swayed gently. "Could've melted that down for something useful."

"Not everything needs to be useful," Glix responded, their gelatinous form shifting to a gentle, diplomatic shade of blue. "Jasper-human seems to find purpose in this arrangement of metal."

Jasper barely registered their conversation, focused on carefully bending a thin piece of copper into a delicate spiral. His fingers worked carefully, remembering how Thaddeus's hands moved over machinery - precise, purposeful, almost reverent.

"Bah," K'Vor crystalline surfaces flickered with dismissal. "Still looks like junk to me."

"It's not junk," Jasper muttered, his eyes never leaving his work. He held the piece up to the light, scrutinizing its curve. "It's... it's a flower."

This declaration was met with confused silence.

"You are... attempting to replicate organic matter with inorganic materials?" Xan asked slowly, all her eyes blinking in sequence. "But why?"

Jasper sighed, realizing he'd have to explain. He set down his pliers, running a hand through his hair. "It's a gift. For... a friend."

"Gift?" K'Vor grunted, scratching his chin. "Why not give something useful? Like a new spanner or a power coupling? Or food. Food is always good gift."

"On my world," Xan offered helpfully, her tentacles gesturing expressively, "we gift each other specialized navigation crystals. They're quite practical."

"Or you could synthesize a batch of premium grade lubricant," K'Vor suggested. "Now that's a proper gift."

"I think it's lovely," Glix interjected, their form shimmering with sincerity. "Humans have such interesting ways of expressing themselves. Creating permanent versions of temporary things..." They rippled thoughtfully. 

"Humans are strange," K'Vor commented, "Creating non-functional items as gestures of... what? Friendship? Mating ritual?"

Jasper felt his cheeks warm, the tips of his ears burning. "Something like that," he mumbled, quickly returning to his work. His fingers moved with renewed purpose, carefully crafting each petal and leaf.

His bunkmates continued to pepper him with questions, utterly baffled by the concept of a metal flower as a gift. Jasper answered as patiently as he could, all the while pouring his heart into every bend and fold of the metal.

Thaddeus had said he didn't like real flowers - their overwhelming scent, their impractical nature. But maybe, just maybe, he'd appreciate this one: a flower that would never wilt, never fade, never assault his senses with unwanted perfume.

A flower made from the very materials Thaddeus worked with every day, shaped by hands that had learned their craft from him.

Some hours later, Jasper turned the finished product slowly in his hands, examining his work. The flower's petals, crafted from carefully beaten and shaped copper, spiraled outward from a center made of tiny brass gears. Each petal had been painstakingly textured with delicate hammer marks, giving them a subtle ripple effect that mimicked the natural variations in real flower petals. Fine copper wire had been woven through the piece to create stamens, their ends tipped with tiny brass beads salvaged from an old pressure gauge.

The whole piece stood about eight inches tall, a perfect blend of industrial precision and organic flow. It wasn't perfect - there were spots where it was a bit rough, and one of the gears didn't quite mesh as smoothly as Jasper would have liked - but overall, it captured exactly what he'd been trying to express.

Clutching his creation carefully, Jasper made his way down to the engine room. His heart pounded with each step, suddenly nervous about how Thaddeus would receive such a sentimental gift.

But when he pushed open the door, he stopped short. Thaddeus was slumped over his workbench, his head resting on his folded arms. His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed in sleep in a way it never was when he was awake. The bruise on his cheek looked darker in the dim light.

Tools were scattered around him, suggesting he'd fallen asleep mid-task. His red hair fell across his face, catching the soft glow from the engine room's ambient lighting.

Jasper stood frozen in the doorway, the mechanical flower held carefully in his hands, struck by how vulnerable Thaddeus looked in that moment. All his usual sharp edges were softened by sleep, though even now there was a slight furrow between his brows, as if his dreams weren't entirely peaceful.

Moving with exaggerated care, Jasper approached the sleeping figure. He gently draped his uniform jacket over Thaddeus's shoulders, holding his breath when the engineer stirred slightly. Then, with trembling fingers, Jasper placed the mechanical flower beside Thaddeus's right hand, positioning it so his fingers would brush against it when he woke.

Jasper stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The rose gleamed softly in the low light, each petal a testament to his affection. He allowed himself one last, lingering look at Thaddeus's sleeping face before turning to leave.

Hours later, Thaddeus stirred, consciousness returning slowly. The first thing he registered was warmth - something draped over his shoulders that carried a now familiar scent. 

As he shifted, his fingers brushed against something on the workbench. He froze, his sleep-addled mind trying to process the unfamiliar texture. It wasn't one of his tools - the surface was too intricate, too deliberately textured.

Sitting up straighter, Jasper's jacket sliding down his shoulders, Thaddeus ran his fingers over the object with growing curiosity. His sensitive touch mapped out delicate petals made of metal, a stem that moved with surprising flexibility, tiny gears that turned under his exploring fingers.

As realization dawned, a smile began to spread across his face. It started small, a slight upturn of his lips, then grew wider with each new detail he discovered. The craftsmanship wasn't perfect - he could feel where some joints were a bit rough, where the metal had been bent with more enthusiasm than skill - but that only made it more precious. Because he could feel Jasper in every imperfection, could trace the careful thought that had gone into each element.

And the scent... Thaddeus inhaled deeply, his sensitive nose detecting the faint, familiar smell of engine oil. It was a scent he had come to associate with safety, with companionship, with... home.

His smile turned soft, almost dreamy, as he cradled the metal rose in his hands. "That idiot," he murmured, but his tone was fond, even affectionate. 

Thaddeus sat there for a long moment, his unseeing eyes focused on some distant point as he continued to touch the rose. The corners of his eyes crinkled with joy, and a faint blush colored his cheeks.

He thought back to their conversation about flowers. This wasn't just a gift – it was a message, a declaration crafted in metal and care.

Finally, with infinite care, he tucked the rose into his breast pocket, right over his heart. As he stood to return to work, his fingers kept straying to the pocket, as if reassuring himself that the rose was still there.