In retrospect, Galen's smile should've been its own red flag.

Eadu was a planet of chameleons. No one really wanted to be here; the freighter assignment paid well enough, but it was hardly a plum post. The scientists were well known, but they kept to themselves, and even the rumors of their work were subdued and careful in nature. Erso himself was known for his reserve, and for his disinterest in the sorts of perks an Imperial directorship usually came with: expensive food, rare imports, and the like.

But Galen hadn't been 'Erso' to Bodhi in awhile. They'd struck up a friendship, carefully brokered in shared stories of Jedha and Grange, in a common-ish origin if not common careers. He was Galen, Bodhi's friend, who hid nearly every single real opinion behind a conspicuously neutral mask.

And now, in his sitting room, he was smiling at Bodhi. Smiling and smiling and smiling.

"Did you, ah." Bodhi didn't know enough about what Galen did to ask a specific question about it. "...have a good day?"

"Oh, very much so," Galen said.

Bodhi waited for elaboration. He didn't get it. Galen's smile was a little weird, to be honest, like he didn't quite remember how to do it.

"Wine?" Bodhi held out a glass.

Galen moved more languorously than usual, fingers brushing against Bodhi's as he took the glass and leaned back into his chair. He was flushed, Bodhi realized, and his normally carefully composed posture was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you okay?" Bodhi said.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Another oddly brilliant smile. "You could stand to loosen up a bit, Bodhi."

"Right." Galen had never used his name like that before—as though saying it was its own compliment. His cheeks felt hot as he sat back, sipping from his own glass and fighting the urge to give in to shyness.

Shyness! But it was there, the same impulse that'd led him, as a child, to hide in the back when his pretty neighbor visited. Only this was stronger, sharper, an urge to hide coupled with a desire to solve the mystery of Galen's good mood by reaching out and touching.

He took a deep breath instead, curling his toes in his boots. The room smelled of herbs, much more strongly than Bodhi remembered. "Did you get a new incense?"

"I burn whatever they put in here. I'm often late coming in. Work, you know."

Bodhi didn't know. When he visited Galen, it was always early in the evening. Galen tended to ring for food to be brought by a droid. "Of course. Senior scientist, and all."

"Not when you're here." Galen traced a thumb over the rim of his glass. "That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?"

Bodhi had been thinking a lot of things he wanted absolutely no one to ever know, like how thick Galen's fingers were, how good they might be—elsewhere. He looked at the wall beyond Galen's head. "I was just surprised, I suppose."

"Mmm. The others have noticed, of course."

Bodhi blinked, made eye contact in spite of himself. "What?"

"That I make time for you." Another odd smile, another long drink.

Bodhi looked away. Every time he looked directly at Galen, he could feel his traitorous mind go all muddled. The windows didn't show Eadu's rain-blasted landscape; instead, they presented him with images of warm, rolling green hills, nothing like the cold desert Bodhi'd grown up in. The very strangeness soothed him.

It also reminded him that he wasn't at home, and he'd be a first-class fool to trust what he saw around him. There, behind the mirror, might be a monitoring device; here, beneath his chair, might be a weapon. He'd heard plenty of bad stories long before Galen had been anyone but Director Erso to him. Now he remembered the rumors, the paranoia, and the discomfort he'd felt that first time Galen had invited him back to his room.

He looked back at Galen and took him in again: the smile, yes, but also the sweaty brow, the dilated pupils. It made sense now. He should've noticed it before.

He said, "You've been drugged."

Galen stared at Bodhi for a moment, looking almost like his normal self. Bodhi's usual round of second-guessing began. His perception was off, clearly, or he'd previously overestimated the share of Galen's attention that he normally commanded. This Galen, this charming and relaxed person, was reserved for people more important than Bodhi. Or perhaps this had been his goal all along: slow seduction in the form of friendship, then real seduction as the final act. Perhaps he wanted Bodhi on his hands and knees as a natural conclusion to their relationship.

Perhaps Bodhi didn't mind the thought as much as he might have, as much as he should have.

"Oh, Bodhi," Galen said. "You're being ridiculous." He began to laugh.

And, no, Bodhi had been right after all. Normal Galen, his Galen, would never laugh like this: undignified, head thrown back, body shaking. It was oddly compelling, almost attractive, but it was also so utterly uninhibited that it couldn't be anything real.

He took a deep breath. The oddly strong incense burned the back of his throat—and then he understood, or thought he did. Could a drug only affect one person?

It'd been awhile since he'd had to learn chemistry. But if Galen had ingested something that would interact with the incense...

Better to be safe. Bodhi stood and pinched the sticks between spit-wet fingers. When he turned back, he saw Galen watching him with undisguised interest.

Undisguised, false interest, Bodhi reminded himself. "Right. Let's get you to bed."

"Of course. I'll need some help up." Galen held out a hand.

Bodhi almost laughed. "I'm not going to fall for that kid's trick. Come on, get up."

Galen's expression fell in a comical near-pout. "I used to be very persuasive, you know. Would you like to see?"

In fact he did, much more than he ought to have. Bodhi forced himself to shake his head. "Not tonight. C'mon, Erso, you'll regret this in the morning."

Galen looked ready to argue again, but Bodhi kept his expression firm and his eyes on Galen's face. Several minutes of grumbling later, he'd gotten Galen into his own bed and was about to leave.

But as he moved to close the bedroom door, Galen said, "I don't think I will, you know."

Damn his weakness. He didn't, couldn't, keep moving. "What do you mean?"

"All this. Being drugged." A slow, oddly suggestive chuckle. "Well, I'm sure I'll regret that. Trying to get you in here...no. I'll still want that. He knows I will. Why do you think he did this?"

Bodhi knew with painful clarity that if he asked Galen who 'he' was, he'd get a too-honest answer that, protestations aside, Galen absolutely would regret in the morning. So he didn't answer.

But he didn't leave just yet, either.

"Stay." Urgency now, nothing like the easy laziness of before. "Stay here with me, not in the bed—I know you won't, he can't imagine that, he doesn't realize—stay. Stay, Bodhi."

He shouldn't. It was wrong, and they'd both be embarrassed enough in the morning without having to face each other.

"If we're being watched," Galen said, "and we likely are being watched, this will be enough."

For what? He wanted to scream it. Who on earth would set this up, and to what ends?

In the end, he didn't really have an option. He locked the door and lay down on the settee by the window. Galen had rolled over, as though by presenting Bodhi his back, he'd grant them both privacy. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Bodhi stayed awake for a long time, trying not to think about what Galen's hands on him might feel like. When he finally fell asleep, poison waited for him. He was watching himself and Galen as though from surveillance footage. The Bodhi he watched told a joke, and Galen smiled warmly, leaning closer. Galen'd done that before, and hadn't even needed some odd drug to motivate him. But this was indisputably a dream, because when the Bodhi he watched turned away for a moment, Galen's expression softened and became something else entirely: fierce wanting mixed with guilt and anger, a maelstrom of emotions that made Bodhi catch his breath.

Then the image was gone, and in its place was an old nightmare of fire and pain.

He'd been in battle before. Not technically, not legally, but the scars on his back served as evidence. And now, in the dream, he was back in the battle: disorientation, blaster shots striking near enough to singe his hair, panic and fear and pain, oh, make it stop make it stop -

"Bodhi."

They didn't let you into the Imperial forces, even as a freighter pilot, if you couldn't learn to wake quickly. Bodhi's dream turned into waking consciousness in seconds, memories rushing back. That was how he knew to lean away from the gentle touch on his shoulder, to say, "Galen, I told you, you've been -"

A kiss. Not on his mouth, which would've been easier to deny. Galen's lips brushed his temple once, then pressed down in warm, almost chaste contact, more a benediction than an advance. Which was unfortunate, Bodhi thought half-hysterically, because there was so much he wanted, and so little he was likely to get.

"It's worn off, I think," Galen said. "Or at least—mostly."

Bodhi was afraid to ask what 'mostly' might mean. "I can leave, then, if you want."

"I seem to recall telling you —"

"That it's better for whatever spy game you're involved in if I stay?" He fought to keep his voice steady, despite the fact that Galen was still next to him, kneeling on the floor, face inches from his own. "We've had plenty of time to do what you wanted."

"I don't tend to kick people out of my bed."

No, he wouldn't, would he? The images came unbidden and all in a rush: Galen bending him over, Galen fucking him, Galen tonguing his ass. He'd make Bodhi come, make sure he was wrung out and exhausted, then press him down into the mattress and fall asleep with his arms around Bodhi's waist. Galen was the sort, Bodhi was sure, to stroke his partner's hair after coming in them, to treat fucking with tenderness, to take it slow.

And he wanted it. He wanted it so much he could barely breathe.

"You said...the drugs." A weak protest, not even half-hearted.

"I can think now. The physical effects are somewhat weaker."

Bodhi wanted to ask what that meant, and too, he didn't want to know what it meant.

"I want," and the steadiness in Galen's voice broke, breathy and utterly foreign to Bodhi's ears, "so much."

Here was a last trap, then, more carefully tailored to them both than Bodhi had ever realized. Here was companionship and sex, mixed together until the one couldn't be enjoyed without the other. Galen touched Bodhi's jaw, a brush of fingers running back and down his neck, and Bodhi's heart pounded, his mouth going dry. Desire washed over him in waves, and he understood himself to be lost.

"Bodhi," Galen whispered, and kissed him.

He'd never been less brave. He leaned into the kiss, raising himself off the couch onto one elbow and letting Galen press further, fucking Bodhi with his tongue as he slid one arm behind Bodhi's back.

"The bed," Galen said, barely more than a whisper.

Bodhi went. He pulled Galen down, spreading his legs to fit Galen between them. Galen wasn't very coordinated, clearly had to take a moment to think about what he was doing before he ducked his head and kissed Bodhi again. That made it better somehow, the moments of pause, the clumsiness of Galen's fingers as he tugged at Bodhi's shirt. Galen was hard against his leg and must have been aching, but he only lazily thrust against Bodhi's hip as his teeth worried Bodhi's shoulder.

"I didn't feel any different when I saw you," Galen said. "Not at first. So I didn't know."

Bodhi tried to get his muddled brain to make sense of this. "If you're saying—oh, do that again—you wanted —"

"Always. Too much." Galen kissed him, one hand heavy on his hip.

Bodhi had thought of this so many times, but in his fantasies it'd always been Galen initiating everything. Now, though, Galen held himself still and waited, moving only when Bodhi said, "Roll over, lie down there."

And then oh, how he moved. In moments he was naked, splayed on the bed and pulling Bodhi back to him. Bodhi was more than happy to follow, letting Galen pull his nightshirt off and touch him, still clumsy and almost too desperate. When he grabbed Galen's hair and tugged, Galen gasped and arched his back, going totally compliant, the flush that Bodhi had noticed hours earlier traveling all the way down his chest.

"Tell me this is real," he said, before he could think better of it. "If it's not—I don't want —"

Galen's answering moan came from deep in his throat. "It's real."

Bodhi chose to believe him. He bit his way down Galen's neck, pinched the skin on his hips, then smacked him lightly and said, "Roll over."

Galen obeyed. He obeyed beautifully, bowing his head and arching his back, dropping his hips so that his knees pressed into the mattress. Bodhi's mouth went dry. He'd been hard against his sleep shorts for what felt like forever, but now he had to press a hand against his cock, fighting for even the remotest semblance of control.

"There's no need to be careful," Galen said.

There was something there Bodhi didn't understand, some kind of history or pain. He should ask, or pull back. He should —

Galen's hand moved beneath himself, and he thrust his hips down, then shuddered head to toe.

Bodhi's thoughts fled. Need replaced them.

Galen encouraged Bodhi without words, thrusting back eagerly against his fingers, moaning when Bodhi replaced them with his cock. At first Bodhi could only move slowly, watching his cock slide in and out of Galen's ass, watching his nails create bruises on Galen's hips. But then Galen began moving with him, fingers clutching the sheets, panting with need. It wasn't anything Bodhi had ever imagined and it was thus impossible to resist. He snapped his hips once, twice, putting real force behind it, and when Galen whispered, "Bodhi. Please," he knew he was done for.

Later, he'd think about how loud they'd been with horror. But at the time, he thrilled at every broken-off noise; when he came buried inside Galen, the force of his orgasm wrecking him, he said Galen's name without care, over and over again until he was hoarse. Bodhi couldn't move after that, but he did press Galen into the mattress as he jerked himself off, panting and writhing between Bodhi and the bed until finally he spilled all over himself.

Reality intruded too quickly. Even as their breathing slowed, Bodhi saw Galen's usual exhaustion return, and felt his own self-doubt creep back in.

"Thank you," Galen said after long minutes of silence.

Bodhi swallowed around an apology. Galen sounded hoarse, as though Bodhi'd fucked his throat, which—what an image. "It was nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Not, it wasn't. You know what I mean."

Galen didn't have to speak to make his consternation obvious. But he visibly decided to set it aside, his troubled expression turning into another version of his perfectly neutral mask. "The person who did this. I'll deal with him."

He was back in his right mind now, so Bodhi told himself it was safe to ask. "I don't suppose you'll tell me who it was."

There it was in all its pitiable glory: Galen's false and normal smile. "No."

That sense he'd had earlier of the wrongness of it all returned, stealing its way into the back of Bodhi's mind with icy little fingers. "How—why?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Yes you are." He was just flat-out lying, though Bodhi didn't know why. Surely he wouldn't have said anything if this room wasn't clean of bugs. "You're famous, everyone knows you. Why would someone do this?"

"Politics," Galen said. "Complex ones. You must have realized by now that the Empire is a competitive place to make one's career."

Bodhi knew that, and the knowledge stung; he was twenty-four and had likely exhausted his career options through sheer carelessness. But Galen had never condescended to him like this before. He normally went out of his way to close the gap between them, socially and officially.

Bodhi did the most basic math he knew. "There's something you don't want me to know. About this guy—about you. About why he's doing this."

Galen's eyes slid from his.

"Right," Bodhi said. "That's a bit insulting."

A bitter, small, still-false smile. "Is it?"

"Yes."

"You'd better leave, then."

It was so blatant it startled a laugh out of Bodhi. "You're a horrible liar."

Galen went very, very still.

Once, at the Imperial Academy, Bodhi'd failed a grenade drill. It was his second of such drills, and he'd passed the first one with flying colors. He was feeling, at the time, happy and confident, had already mentally placed himself in the cockpit of a starfighter.

He'd failed very thoroughly. The grenade landed in front of him and he hadn't moved, hadn't blinked; his whole mind had shut down, and panic had replaced all his other instincts. That had been the first of many mistakes that led him to Eadu and his freighter assignment.

Galen wasn't a grenade. All the same, right then Bodhi felt that same stupid helplessness, that overwhelming blankness. "I'm sorry," he finally managed to say.

"No," Galen said. "No, you're right, of course."

He knew he was, but right now that was very obviously beside the point. "There's nothing I can do." It was a statement more than a question, though he hoped Galen would contradict him.

"There's not," Galen said slowly. He looked at Bodhi with new regard then, more sober and aware than he'd been all night. "Not yet. When there is, I promise I will tell you."

Bodhi didn't look forward to confronting some angry ex or jealous coworker, or whatever helping Galen might consist of. He'd grown used to life as a freighter pilot, which was to say he'd rediscovered how terrifying it was to take risks. But his own heart had hoodwinked him, and with that feeling came another one, stranger still: this was wrong. It wasn't just off the way the Empire often was, full of ego and backstabbing. Drugging a man, watching his room, it was all wrong. The part of Bodhi that was foolish enough to care about such things sat up and paid attention, urging him to speak.

"Whatever you need."

Galen gave Bodhi an almost-real smile and curled still-shaky fingers around his wrist. They fell asleep like that, waiting for Eadu station's false dawn.