#ohmissbeekeeper

Juno steps out of the car, and his gaze sweeps the crowd. Hyperion City is the largest colony on Mars, after all; there’s always a crowd, and there’s always something to catch his eyes. Maybe he looks at the gathered people for too long, though. When he glances back, Sam is watching him with a familiar expression.

It’s not a happy look.

“So,” he says, shutting the car door with a bit too much force. “See anyone interesting?”

“A purse snatcher and a little old lady who’s talking to a streetlight,” Juno says without missing a beat. He’s learned the hard way that hesitating makes him look like he’s hiding something. Then Sam will want to know what he’s not saying, and being entirely blunt will just make him look like even more of a liar, and it’ll turn into another fight, and Juno will spend the rest of the night either feeling like shit or trying to fix it, and he really does not have the energy for this.

Okay, sure, so giving his soulmate his contact information was a shitty move. Telling Sam what he’d done was supposed to make it right, so it wouldn’t be some big secret between them. Instead it’s ruined everything.

No, he tells himself. Not everything. This is all going to blow over eventually– he just needs to give Sam some time. He’s only even acting like this because he’s nervous. Pre-wedding jitters. Everyone gets them, right?

After all, that’s what made Juno write that note. It doesn’t mean anything.

Nope. Nothing at all.

Peter looks at his watch. Four more hours before the guards change. Three and a half before he can safely arrive at the museum without attracting attention.

He doodles absently, trying to fill the time, but the minutes stretch and slow like he’s too close to a black hole. One by one he fills the sheets of the complimentary notepad, and one by one he rips them off and crumples them in his pockets, until there’s just one left.

He looks at the blank page for far too long. This hotel isn’t part of the same chain as that other one, but it seems they get their gift items from the same company. The dimensions of the notepad are the precisely the same, as is the color of the paper, the shine of the ink. The logos aren’t even all that different.

If he squints, he could picture a series of words here, written in a messy hand. A message that begins with Juno Steel and ends with Hyperion City, Mars.

It’s still tucked into his old passport, along with a comms number and an email address.

His fingers hover over the hidden seam in his coat.

Perhaps composing a letter could fill another hour or two.

Instead he grabs the last blank sheet off the pad of paper and crumples it into a ball.

This case is driving him insane– no matter how hard he beats his head against it, his only breakthrough is the nagging feeling that he’s missing something obvious, and he would catch it if he was just a little smarter, a little faster, or hell, if he slept a little better.

But he’s barely sleeping at all. Most mornings he wakes up on the couch with a back that feels like it’s trying to crawl out of his body; on the few nights he actually sleeps in bed, the silence on the other side is so stony that he can’t do anything but lie awake and think about trying to reach over and fix this.

He’s not sure which one is worse.

He just has to hold on a little longer, he tells himself. Just until the wedding, and then everything’s gonna go back to normal.

Peter’s had too many drinks. He knows it.

But he has to get chummy with Abisai Villa, and the best way to do that is to get drunk together. And it’s working– of course it’s working– but now Peter’s laughing too loud, smiling too wide, and sharing too much about things that are far too personal.

“So then it happens, right?” he slurs. “It’s my twenty-first. I wake up, and there I am in his body, right? Only then I look over, and there’s another man!”

“No!” Villa gasps. If nothing else, xe’s a good audience.

“And more than that– there’s a ring on his finger! My– my fuckin’ soulmate–” He’s going to be sick. “He went and got engaged!”

“The bastard!”

“I know!” The room is spinning, but at least Villa looks like xe’s ready to die for Peter. “And y’know the worst part?”

“It gets worse?”

“It does! I wake up the next day, right? Back here, ready to put this– this whole mess– behind me. And he leaves me his fuckin’ number.” The wail of protest from Villa is too satisfying for Peter’s own good. “What am I supposed to do? Call him up and– and ruin his life? ‘Hi, gorgeous, how about you drop everything and come travel the galaxy with a complete stranger?’ I can’t do that to him.”

“Would you, though?” It’s amazing how somebody that drunk can have such a knowing look on xir face. “If he left you his number, it’s for a reason.”

“Sure. He made a mistake.”

“Then one call can’t hurt.” Villa leans closer. “Do you still have the number?”

Even drunk, Peter can recite it perfectly. He’s looked at it too many times to purge it from his memory.

“Try it. Give him a call.”

Drunk on too many cocktails and Villa’s prodding, he pulls out his comms and enters the numbers, one by one.

Juno Steel, that beautiful bastard. He’ll give him a piece of his mind. He’ll tell him– he’ll tell him–

His finger hovers over the last digit. He’s pretty sure he isn’t actually sober, but the rush of adrenaline coursing through his system definitely feels like it.

Villa stares at him, all excited anticipation. One more digit and he’ll hear Juno Steel’s voice.

“What are you waiting for?” Villa asks.

“I–” Peter’s hands shake. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

He rushes into the alley to throw up; Villa follows behind him– but not so close that xe sees Peter delete the number off his comms.

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” Juno’s almost shouting. “I’m marrying you.”

“Yeah,” Sam snarls. “Because this other guy hasn’t turned up yet.”

“Even if he did, I’d still choose you. We’ve been together for years. Whatever this is, it can’t compete with that.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Sam’s hand closes into a fist– and then uncurls. “You know what? No. I’m done competing.”

And before Juno can say thank you and can we just move on, then?, Sam rips the floor out from under him.

“The wedding is off.”

“What? No. What are you talking about?” Juno scrambles. This can’t be happening. It can’t be happening.

“Why should I go through with it? So I can spend the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop? Or so I can get all cozy with you and then have some– some actor or whatever sweep in and break up everything?”

Juno grabs Sam’s hand. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You called them here.” 

“It was a mistake, okay? Just a mistake. I swear, that’s all it was. I would never– please, Sam, don’t do this. Sam, I’m begging you–” There are tears in his eyes. “Don’t do this, Sam. I love you.”

But Sam doesn’t look angry anymore. He just looks tired. “I should have done it a long time ago. It’ll be better this way.”

Peter never does throw away that passport.

Juno never does throw away the wedding gown.

He keeps telling himself he will, any day now.

He spends a lot of time trying to bust himself out of his slump– tries visiting bars and strip clubs and the shadiest parts of town to pick fights with strangers.

It almost helps.

There’s a jewel that Peter’s had his eyes on for years now. It’s pure coincidence that it’s going to be on Mars in the coming weeks. In Hyperion City, specifically.

He touches the secret pocket that hides his passport, and he doesn’t feel it pull at his fingers like a neutron star. Enough time has passed. He’s sure of it.

He can go to Mars without the fear of not coming back.

When he arrives, he makes no attempt to seek out his soulmate– there’s no point of that anymore. Instead he does what all thieves do, and he collects information. Part of that involves following the head of security to her favorite bar.