Deviation From the Rule
By Kiley Sullivan (mackzazzle)

There is a formula to everything in life, a mathematical precision and predictability to the way things are, and Dex Dearborn has a deeply set faith in the reliability of it all.

It's not to say that life is boring, or that things can't go wrong; they can, as he's seen more times than he perhaps cares to. Trial and error is a part of scientific experimentation, obviously. Readings may vary, and his laser gun may require a bit of shaking from time to time, but gravity won't suddenly up and quit on him. The major things in life are predictable.

Romance, Dex decides, (as he fiddles at a circuit breaker with a tiny pair of pliers), has one of the most manifest patterns of all. Comic books taught him that much. There's a hero and a heroine, and they might hate each other at first, but somewhere along the line when they're out saving the world, their hands touch a little too often, or eye contact lingers a bit more than it ought to, and then there's the dramatic kiss scene as the world watches in awe, and everybody is happy.

Everyone, except maybe the sidekick, who is invariably integral to the plot, but who never gets the girl and is just expected to wait around to tie up the loose ends and keep smiling. Nobody ever thinks about what he wants after the world is safe and the protagonists are wallowing in domestic bliss. Why should they?

Dex is clever. Dex knows that Joe is the hero and Polly is the heroine, no matter how clutzy she is or how callous he acts. She's beautiful and blond, and he's the infamous Sky Captain, and it just makes perfect, logical sense. It's formulaic. And, (he snaps one of the wires, causing sparks to fly and leave a razzle-dazzle pattern across his knuckles and the top of his hands), it's simply the way things are.

He is not bitter, never bitter, because he is the sidekick and is always ready with a smile. And as Joe's voice filters through the grainy speaker on his desk, Dex puts his work aside, hides his burned fingers with his sleeves, and towards Sky Captain's office. Because he's hopelessly devoted, and, of course, never, ever bitter.

He passes Polly in the hallway, Polly with her bright red lips and glossy blond hair, camera clutched in her long fingers, and she is expressionless, the steady clack of her high heels unwavering. Dex smiles.

(Although he feels suddenly, irrationally inferior, and there is a crawling, writhing sensation in the pit of his stomach, because he has been working all day and his hair is oily and stuck to his forehead with sweat and grime and his beige shirt has been worn for three days now, and she is flawless like always, even when dodging robot feet and climbing mountains in Nepal.)

Polly doesn't smile back, and Dex's smile wavers. He stops, but she walks right on past him, thick curls flouncing on her slim shoulders, perfume wafting heavily over him and contrasting starkly with his scent of smoke, oil, salt, and Double Bubble gum.

"Rough day in the office, Polly?" he calls after her, raking a hand through his hair and wincing a little at the loudness of his own voice. She doesn't look back and her steps do not falter, although her fingers tighten around the strap of her camera.

(And Dex wonders what exactly she takes pictures of when she's in that office with Joe, and whether or not she'd let him see them if he asked, although he never would.)

Wary now, because Joe is often in a foul mood when he and Polly fight, Dex approaches Sky Captain's office with some trepidation, chewing nervously on bubblegum that lost its flavor some hours ago. He pauses by the door, which is firmly closed, and, judging by the scattered, dusty bits of drywall on the floor, recently slammed.

Dex slowly turns the knob and eases the door open, peeking his head around the corner, not at all interested in being the recipient of something very solid and fast-moving, like, for example, a bullet. "Hey Joe, it's Dex, please don't kill me," he says, then ducks back behind the door.

There is a low chuckle, and Dex cautiously eases into the room once more. Joe is leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, looking carelessly at ease. Dex runs a hand through his hair and cracks his bubblegum, and Joe grins, stretching his arms over his head and beckoning Dex forward with the slightest jerk of his head.

(And Dex wishes, for the first time in his life, that he had been called to art instead of science, because he is filled with a sudden yearning to capture a part of this casual, brilliant man on paper, to outline his roguish grin in charcoal and give Dex some way to express what he'll never say.)

Dex leans against the bookshelf, hands in his pockets as he carefully examines a point in the air just over Sky Captain's shoulder. "What did you need, Joe?" he asks. I was kind of in the middle of something, his mind adds, but that was no excuse; he was a sidekick and, heaven forbid, probably caught in a messed up little imitation of infatuation that would result in a lifetime of dedication and celibacy and Double Bubble comics. Whatever he was doing, he would always come when Sky Captain called.

"There's been a call from Amsterdam," Joe tells him, swinging his feet off his desk and causing his chair to swoop in a lazy circle. "I need to fly out within the hour."

Dex's gut clenches. Of course, that was why Polly was upset; her Sky Captain was leaving again. (And she'd never forgotten the Franky incident). "You need me to get some things ready for you, then?" he asks.

Joe smiles mysteriously. "Whatever you need," he says casually. "Because you're coming with me."

Dex has to run that through his head a few times. It doesn't compute. "What?" he asks, floored.

The pilot stands up, still grinning in that peculiar, infuriating little way of his. "I said," he repeats with infinite patience, "please pack up your stuff, because I'm taking you with me."

In all his years of working with Sky Captain, Dex has very rarely left the base, content to do the work he loved and knew how to do, comfortable in the ebb and flow of the effervescent pattern. It was more than a job, it was his life, his home, and – "You want me to come with you?" He splutters in quite an undignified manner. "Why?"

Joe glances at his watch, then back up at Dex. His eyes are steely, although he's still grinning, and he points a finger at the other man, only inches from his nose. Dex goes cross-eyed. "You have twenty minutes," says Sky Captain.

Devotion takes precedence over curiosity, and helplessly, Dex nods. Joe's grin widens and he claps him on the shoulder. "Good boy, Dex," he says, and Dex wants very much for him to move away, because he's entirely too close, the way he should only be with Polly and not with Dex, whose hair is sooty and who smells like gasoline and bubblegum.

Joe gives Dex's shoulder a squeeze, almost painfully, before swaggering out of the office, (and yes he does swagger, and Dex does so love to watch him go), whistling something that may or may not be Mozart, or Charlie Parker

Dex spits his gum out into the trashcan near Joe's desk, reaching up to rub his shoulder, then his neck, and he laughs, a half-hysterical sound muffled by the hand he clamps over it. He goes to pack his bags.

A/N: I disclaim! This is for fun and not profit, I don't own the characters, let us jump through all the legal hoops, etc, etc. This was my first little foray into this fandom, and not as good as I'd like it to be, in retrospect. But hey, it was the first Sky Captain slash fic, so that's something. (Not on FFN, mind you... missoccurs and others had me beat there, but I wrote this a couple hours after the opening night of the movie. Anyway, I'm not going to belabor the point).

For those looking for more Sky Captain slash, including some stuff of mine that has too high of a rating to be posted here, head over to and the skycaptainslash community (livejournal dot com / community / skycaptainslash). Believe me, you won't be disappointed!