AN: I swear I write more than just smut for these two constantly, I just always seem to finish these stories first.
She couldn't remember the last time she danced.
The music was a comforting thrum through her body, and easy to sway along to without much effort. The warmth and the sunlight and the music was almost enough to put her in a trance, really—it may have cost a hell of a lot to get in the club, but damn if it wasn't worth it.
"Drinks are good too," she murmured to herself, uncapping her zero-g proofed fancy bottle to take a sip. The novelty of drinking while working was a pleasure with little diminishing return.
"Then you won't mind if I buy you the next one?"
She turned at the voice, expecting another person to dance too close to her that she'd have to shove away to keep her line of sight clear, but it seemed her target had given himself up rather easily.
Veronica grinned at the man who'd spoken. Flirting with cute marines on the job was another enduring pleasure of fieldwork.
"Careful with that offer," she answered, swaying a little closer to him on the dance floor. "These aren't cheap." She waggled her purple plastic-jewel encrusted bottle at him.
"ODSTs get pretty good leave pay." He matched her swaying to the beat of the music, albeit with the stiff, tense movements of a solider fresh off the boat from hard duty. "So I think I can handle it."
Flashing the goods already. She laughed, just loud enough to be heard above the throb of club music, and saw his eyes twinkle. "Alright then, Helljumper. I'll have a Cape Codder."
Veronica followed him over to the bar, leaning against the heavy marble and watching him hail the barkeep for drinks. He ordered a shot of baijiu for himself, she noted, filing that information away for later.
Then her target turned to face her when he was done ordering, a grin on his face that was a little too tense to be called easy. Normally she'd think it suspicious, but she'd read his psych report; it was the reason she was here, after all.
"So, mister rich ODST," she began, finishing off her drink and sliding the empty bottle away from her. "What's your name?"
"Buck—er, Ed. Eddie," he told her, and she nodded like she didn't know that already. He sat down on a stool and rubbed at his neck. "Still in military mode."
"I know how it goes," she said, waving his concerns off. The bartender came to give them their drinks and collect her empty one, and he drained his in one go.
"Oh yeah? You serve, too?" His eyes watered a little at the bite of the baijiu, but he managed not to cough.
"Certified UNSC Navy." She pulled at her shirt as if it were her dress blues. "Been fighting since '33."
He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. "You shoulda told me you were a squid before I bought you a drink."
"If anything, I'm the one making a concession here, talking to an ODST." She swept her hair away from her shoulder and leaned on the palm of her hand. "And a newly minted one, at that."
He frowned, rocking back in his seat. "How'd you know that?"
Ah, shit. Be more careful, idiot. Veronica jerked her chin at his arm, spying the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his cotton t-shirt. "Ink looks pretty fresh, and I can tell it's a Helljumper tattoo from here."
He was more distracting than she originally thought he'd be, and she needed to be more careful. God, what she really needed was a good lay to clear her head. Maybe he'd be a help in that department, too. Seems charming enough.
His expression relaxed then, and he turned to look down at it. "Ah, yeah. Got that when I passed basic with my unit about seven months ago, but it feels like I've been stuck in cryo for half that, so—" He shrugged. "Kinda green, yeah." Then he grinned. "I still got you beat for years, though. I enlisted in '28."
She whistled, sounding impressed. "You're an old man, then. You enlist at eighteen?"
He nodded, and waved at the bartender for another shot. "Yep. Got smashed with my—dad and uncle the night of my birthday, then went off to the recruiting office in the morning."
The catch in his voice was easy to miss had she not been paying attention, but that was exactly the thing she'd been looking for. Of course, she couldn't press about his family—this late into the war, all that line of questioning usually got was a dismissive shrug or a hard glare.
So she nodded instead. "Got into the Naval Academy on Luna and graduated at eighteen myself. It's one way to celebrate your birthday."
He huffed a laugh and tipped his head in agreement. The bartender came back with a fresh shot, and Buck nodded at her cup. "How's your drink?"
"Even better now that I didn't pay for it." She took a sip, grinning at him from the lip of the bottle.
"You know, I never did get your name."
"Veronica," she purred back, taking another sip of her drink. The vodka and cranberry—or whatever the bartender was pretending was cranberry—pooled warmly in her belly and made her face heat pleasantly. Mixing that with talking to Eddie, and she felt like she was glowing.
"Veronica," he repeated, the V soft and dropping off in his low voice, making her name sound more like ronica. She decided she liked hearing him say it. Quite a lot, actually.
She finished the rest of her drink, sighing at the hot burn it left in her throat. "I don't meet a lot of Helljumpers on Castellaneta," she mused, raising a brow. "You stationed nearby, or visiting from home?"
There it was. She regretted the pained wince on his face, but it was too good an opening to let it slip by. "No," he replied, draining his second shot. "No, just stationed nearby."
"Ah. I won't ask, then."
He waved her off. "It's fine." Then he laughed, a harsh sound with no real humour in it. "Well, it's not fine, but you get what I mean." Buck paused then, as if considering whether to say more. He gave her a measured look before shrugging to himself and continuing. "It was pretty recent. Draco III."
It was her turn to wince. She already knew about that too, of course, but she'd also heard a few too many details about what happened down there not to recoil whenever it was mentioned. "Fuck the Covenant," she offered as a sincere reply, a common response she got from most soldiers when they mentioned their glassed home planet. I'm sorry had worn out its welcome by this point.
"Yeah," he huffed, his gaze focused on the empty shot glass he was fiddling with. "But—forget about that." Eddie forced a smile. "Didn't come here to wallow about it."
She prodded the conversation into lighter territory; maybe she could get work taken care of all in one night. "So, your CO force you here for some down time, too, then? Threaten you with a psych leave?" Her own boss hadn't said it in so many words, but she'd gone ten months since her last leave, and command had all but thrust her into a shuttle off to this tourist trap with vague instructions to get some info on the ODST's mental state.
He chuckled and looked up at her. "Yeah, actually. Said I was jeopardizing the team."
"Heard that a few times before." Mostly for different reasons, but it was relatable nonetheless. "Higher-ups don't want you rebelling against them in righteous fury or anything."
He shrugged. "More like running into a bullet when I'm not paying attention and getting myself killed. Besides," he continued, rolling the shot glass around in his fingers. "I'm not an idiot. I know who the enemy is."
Bingo. Veronica laid a hand on his arm then, sensing the conversation was about to take a sensitive turn—she got what she needed for now, anyway. Now it was time to have some fun. "I propose a new rule."
"What's that?"
"No more work talk," she offered, and the grin he gave her was infectious. "They gave you that leave money to blow on hot dates for a reason."
He sidled closer to her in his seat, his grin a lot less stiff now. "I like that rule, Just Veronica."
Veronica was surprised they managed to talk for as long as they did. They broke their no-work-talk rule a few times to brag about some of their crazier assignments—which she kept as close to the truth as possible, sans anything about her direct involved with ONI, because nothing killed a conversation faster than mentioning her spook status—and because there were only so many things two seasoned soldiers could discuss that didn't hit a traumatised nerve or relate to their respective careers.
The constant warm sunlight glowing in the distance made it seem like no time had passed at all, but a glance at her watch told her they'd chatted for almost four hours. By the time they'd blown through half a dozen topics—movies, music, shore leave parties, the occasional pant-shitting mission, how annoying brass was, and some politics thrown in for good measure—she hadn't been able to take it any longer and invited him back to her hotel room. Buck had seemed almost surprised at the offer, as if he'd forgotten his original intent for hitting her up, but quickly recovered and told her to lead the way after he paid their tab.
Sex with ODSTs was usually an experience, and Eddie was no different.
Her skirt was forgotten on the floor, too much of a barrier to straddling Buck on the mattress. His hands were already under her shirt, searching for the release on her bra while she focused her efforts on kissing him senseless. Her own palms slid under his t-shirt; he was just as toned and fit as he looked. She sighed into his mouth appreciatively, and he responded by gripping her waist hard and pulling her flush against his hips.
"Take—your fucking pants off," she huffed, pulling away from his mouth just long enough to protest.
He gave a breathless laugh. "Then you take your shirt and bra off."
"Deal."
Veronica rose up on her knees just enough for him to reach for his zipper, and made good on his request. Her shirt and bra joined her skirt on the floor in no time, and Eddie kicked his jeans off with a hurried determination that would have made her laugh if she weren't so turned on.
He was fumbling with his boxers when she slipped a hand under the fabric to grab a hold of him. His answering groan fanned the embers burning between her legs, and he immediately reached up to kiss her again.
She kept a light grip on his cock and kissed him back, threading her free hand through his hair. She moaned into his mouth when he roughly palmed at her breasts, and her hand tightened on him in response. The stroke of her fingers was really only meant to tease as opposed to actually satisfy, but after a minute or so of trading messy kisses with him while he rubbed at her aching breasts, Buck all of a sudden pitched forward and pressed his face into her neck, a low mutter of "oh god, fuck," whispered against her skin as he held her close and came. The shiver that ran down his body was enough to shake the mattress, but she kept her hand wrapped tight around him until he was spent and sagging into her embrace. Marines fresh off the boat from duty getting set off early wasn't all that uncommon, so she'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now.
He recovered quickly, though, and pulled away to look at her, face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. "Ah, shit, Veronica, I'm sorry—"
She nodded, breathing hard. "S'okay."
Eddie grabbed for his shirt, which was tossed behind him, and wiped at the mess on her fingers and the skin of his abdomen. He let out a low breath once they were cleaned up and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around him, arching into his body and relishing the burning points of contact wherever their skin met.
They sat like that for a moment while he collected himself, breathing hard and pressing surprisingly soft kisses against her collarbone and neck and the tops of her breasts. Then he shifted, keeping her close while he turned them around and laid her on the bed.
He kissed her again, less frenzied this time but more focused. A hand massaged at her breast while the other slipped down between her legs. His fingers slipped easily under the thin fabric of her underwear, and—god, okay, maybe he did know what he was doing.
She let out a whimper that she would later deny ever making when his fingers slid over her clit. It felt good, but he was rubbing just a bit too hard for her liking.
"Ease up a bit," she breathed into his ear, and his answer came in the form of a more gentle but no less insistent rub of his fingers. Veronica arched up into his hand, rolling her hips with its rhythm. She was burning, the touch not enough and too much all at once, making her writhe against his hand.
Buck moved down the length of her body then, trailing his lips along the lines of muscle and breast and bone until his mouth met up with his fingers. He needed only small amounts of guidance before she was pulling at his hair and twining her legs around his shoulders and muffling some of her louder moans into the pillow. She quickly came undone, even as she wanted to drag it out and make it last, because he sure as hell knew what he was doing.
When the aftershocks began to subside, she sagged boneless into the mattress, trying to catch her breath. Eddie pulled himself up and rolled onto the pillow beside her, wiping at his mouth and trying to calm down his own breathing. For a minute the only the sound was the rough exhale of air from the pair of them, and Veronica took that time to gather her scattered thoughts.
Best gig ever.
She snorted at that, a sudden undignified sound that made Buck look over at her. "What?" he asked, and grabbed for her hand.
She squeezed his fingers, shaking her head on the pillow. "Nothing, just… good. Yeah, good."
It was his turn to laugh. "I'm glad," he murmured.
"You good?" She snuck a peek at him over the poofy hill of her pillow.
He tightened his grip on her hand, grinning. "Oh yeah. I swear that's not a regular thing, though."
She raised a brow. "You know, that's what most guys say."
He rolled onto his side. "Yes but I'm telling the truth."
"I'll take your word for it." She pulled their untwined hands up off the bed to look at them. "I get it, though. I do," she insisted when he rolled his eyes. She tugged at his fingers, running a thumb over the callouses worn into his skin. "You go weeks—even months—with people only ever touching you to stick a knife in you or patch you up. Then, if by some miracle you find someone who actually wants to touch you, it's like…." She trailed off, not sure how to put it.
"Like you're on fire," he supplied, and she nodded.
"Yeah." She pulled at their hands to tug him closer, and pressed her face into his shoulder. "So I'll say this one's on the house."
Eddie laughed and tucked her into his side. "How gracious," he murmured. "And I'll prove my point if you give me about twenty minutes."
"I'll set my alarm then," she whispered into his skin, enjoying the natural, pleasant smell of him. "For now, we can take a power nap."
AN: Buck mentions in New Blood that Veronica was assigned to look out for him while on shore leave, so this is a smutty and overly fluffy explanation for her tailing him on Castellaneta. This will likely have one or two more chapters to it, since I've already almost finished the second one, and will be just as fluffy and devoid of significant plot as the first chapter.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed!