A/N: I never intended to write this actually, I sort of expected to veer off into an Indy/Marion-bantuwind-smut, but it seemed right to stop there (besides it was getting sorta wordy heh), so yup, here it is. Do review! And also tell me if you wish for me to continue. Oh, and this was written quite long ago too, but I didn't feel like posting it. But then I decided to post it today, because I've finished studying for the 3 exams I'm having tomorrow!

Yeah, review please!

Disclaimer: Never will be mine. Sad, isn't it.

'We never do seem to get a break, do we?' she whispers softly, with resignation, reassured that he was asleep and couldn't hear. She stared at him, eyes peacefully shut, chest rising and falling gently, hair falling slightly over his forehead as he slept…

She suddenly felt overwhelmed with fatigue, as she stretched over him to flick the lights off, then settled down the soft bed, half-lying on his bare chest. 'Do you know what it is? Do you know what's working? It's the ahh-dren-er-linnn!,' he had proudly declared as they were celebrating with Sallah. Well, it was quite an adventure, she had to admit, even for Indy's standards. She very much suspected his arm around her shoulder and rather…ebullient nature was due more to inebriation than genuine feelings, and that was rather disappointing, to say the least. But he was more sombre the day after, and they had spent hours just talking, Indy's arms loosely circled around her waist and the back of her head leaning gently into his chest. She marvelled at what being in dangerous situations and defying death could do to a relationship.

Then Sallah had helped them arrange for transport out, and they had said goodbye, Marion, in a rather cheeky mood, kissing Sallah for perhaps a millisecond too long, alarmed at the smitten look of wonder on Sallah's countenance, but very, very glad for Indy's scowl and arm leading her away by her elbow.

And now here they were, they had kissed, and he had fallen asleep. Lovely.

It must've been exactly what Katanga imagined when he put them together in the same room.

But he had done so much, for archaeology, for her (always second-in-line to his first love, inevitably…), for himself. It was natural for him to sleep.

But a very very selfish niggling part of her had the greatest desire to throw the basin of warm water onto him, and fling her arms around him, kissing him.

…and she would not listen to that.

Indy murmured inaudibly, rolling over, and draping his arm casually around her waist. Her breathing quickened at the feel of his arms against hers; oh, it had been so long, and she had missed him so much.

Marion snuggled up against him habitually, and slowly her eyes drifted shut and she was fast asleep.

--

Indy stirred and blinked blearily in the darkness. It was still in the middle of the night, from the looks of it, but he felt awfully disgusting. Ugh, definitely time for a bath.

He shifted slightly in the tiny bed, suddenly aware of the weight on his shoulder. Marion was fast asleep, her arm, flung over her head, half-lying on him, and his arm was draped around her waist as well. Odd, he had no idea how it got there. He sighed, propping himself up on the elbows slightly. How had she gotten here?

Then it struck him. She had kissed him, and he must've fallen asleep, because he had no further recollections.

Oops. Maybe not the best thing to do.

Indy was up, standing in the tiny bathroom stall, illuminated under the harsh bright fluorescent lamp, scrutinising himself intently in the mirror as he shaved, in the old-fashioned way: a razor, cream and hot water somehow obtained. She sat quietly and let herself be lost in him, just for a moment: she could see his features scrunching up in concentration, his eyes staring into the grimy mirror, those dark brown eyes that used to tell her so much focused on his reflection. He was, very conveniently, shirtless. She watched as he lifted his arm—muscles pleasantly rippling—and glided it smoothly along the surface of his cheek meticulously, then bent down over the sink, rinsing it, his bare back facing her.

His trousers fit him very, very well.

'So are you just going to sit there and stare at me until morning?' he spoke suddenly and she jumped, clutching the sheets in fright. He turned around to offer her a smug smirk, and she glared darkly back at him.

'I was NOT staring at you.'

'Uh-huh.' He shrugged.

'I wasn't!' …but you have to admit, Marion, he cleans up quite well. (and that really is something, considering gorg--stop it Marion! She yawned, running her hands through her hair. 'what time is it?'

'3am, ' he practically sang. One was definitely not supposed to possess such energy at such an ungodly hour.

She let out a frustrated groan, flopping back onto the bed and burying her face in the pillow, mumbling lazily, 'Put on a shirt.'

He grinned. 'So you were staring.'

She lifted her head slightly, and yawned. Thankfully he couldn't see the flush on her cheeks. 'Oh, just shut up, Jones.'

She heard him move towards her, padding on the carpeted floor softly. The bed creaked as he slid in beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist, stroking her hip gently. Marion froze, hardly daring to breathe, her heart pounding.

Then he stopped. There was a large red circular stain on her white dress, near her slender shoulder blade. Reaching out, he brushed at it. It stained his hand; but there wasn't any visible wound. He frowned, and leaned in to examined it.

'Jones. Go away.'

'Shhhh!'

Ahhh. He heaved a sigh of relief. It was his blood that had seeped into the material, as she has been pressed against his arm(which wasn't feeling good at all. In fact, he couldn't feel anything there). It occurred to him that it was somewhat erotic, really, for her to have his blood all over her back. 'Come on.'

She peeked her head out of the covers blearily, fixing a glare on him. 'No. I want to sleep!' and she burrowed back underneath obstinately, like a petulant child.

He let out an exasperated sigh, laughing, then in one fluid motion, slid his arm underneath her back, lifted her up easily, deposited the blankets back on the bed, and headed purposefully to the bathroom.

Either she had changed more than he had realized, or was just too tired to resist. She stared up at him, large brown eyes hazy with sleep. 'what is it.' She yawned. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

He set her down firmly on the ground, reaching for a towel. 'Turn around.' His tone was peremptory, and Marion didn't like that. (Obviously.)

'Why?' she stuck up her chin.

'There's blood on your back.' He said quietly.

She drew in her breath sharply, twisting around. 'It must be your arm, oh god are you bleeding again?' she headed away from him, rummaging around for something. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. 'I'm alright. Let me get this off first, Katanga's not gonna be very happy.'

She stood silently, her back to him, feeling trepidation rise in her, for some reason she could not comprehend. He pressed the towel to her, and wiped at it gently. She stared ahead of her absently.

Then his fingers came in contact with her neck, and she let out an involuntary gasp as they brushed over her bare skin, and caressed her shoulders, his thumbs tracing lazy circles gently along her back. She stiffened, gripping the edge of the basin unsteadily. His other arm encircled around her waist, pulling her flush up against him.

She was glad he couldn't see her face.

It was all so familiar to her, these emotions, these actions. It had been years since they had last met, since he had glanced back at her on the train platform, her face streaked in tears as she stared after him, numb, Abner's face grim, his mouth set as he pulled Marion away. They had gazed at each other, and he had offered her a grin, a tremulous, wavering one, but his trademark cocky grin nonetheless. And she couldn't help but smile back. And for the next few months, whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was that crooked, lopsided smile.

She has kissed him, just now, on an impulse. Whether or not it was the right thing to do she would find out later, that was definite. But was she going to let this happen all over again?

His fingers on her hips were distracting.

'Stop that...'

That so didn't come out right.

She could sense his lips curling into a smile as he bent down closer to her. She closed her eyes involuntarily, as he nuzzled gently at her neck, shifted his arms tighter around her.

Control, Marion. Control.

'I want to kiss you.' He murmured, his voice husky, laced with desire, his breath hot against her ear. She froze, her heart thumping in her chest.

She twisted in his embrace, knowing, just knowing that this was completely wrong, but yet unable to resist the lure of temptation, and stared into his eyes boldly. 'Then why don't you?'

He smirked; it was as if he had expected a response like that. He bent down, leaning closer slowly. Marion gazed into his eyes, unconsciously parting her lips, then she could see nothing but him as his lips crushed against hers, feel nothing but his lips and his hands and his arms and his face…and she let her eyelids fall shut.

…Oh god.

His lips were pressed against hers, moving almost imperceptibly, one arm resting on the crook of her neck, the other trailing down her back, his fingers restless and quick against hers. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears as he deepened it, feeling herself respond, as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his gorgeous unruly dark hair, pulling him closer, relishing the sensation. How long has it been? Was it ten, twelve years? She couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts. All she knew was that it had been far too long.

She pressed herself against him, moaning as his tongue swept over her lips swiftly, and his fingers fingered the zip of her dress. He pushed her back against the wall as they continued kissing passionately, and as Marion felt the cold surface against her back, she felt herself tilting precariously over the edge of those treacherous cliffs, about to fall, once again, in love with Indy, into this trap, and she was falling, flailing desperately, but still falling...

She let out a shriek and shoved him away, breathing heavily as she leaned against the wall.

'What the hell do you think you're doing!'

'Wha—Me?!' Indy spluttered, glaring at her. 'You were the one who was all eager and googly-eyed-'

Marion took a deep breath. 'I was not eager, neither was I 'googly-eyed'!' she screamed.

Indy glanced around furtively and held out his arms in front of him, patronizing. 'All right, calm down, calm down. I don't think it's going to be appreciated if we rouse the whole ship.'

'You idiot! How could you kiss me like that!'

"Well, to be fair, you were enjoying it! And what was that you said, huh? 'then why don't you?'" he argued indignantly.

Marion huffed in protest, crossing her arms. Do not blush. Do not blush. Do NOT blush. 'That was a mistake. You should have known better, anyway.'

Indy stared at her, flabbergasted. Under entirely different circumstances, he would have burst out laughing at the absurdity of this situation. He settled for a grin, a challenge in his eyes. 'Well what're you going to do about that?'

Marion stared at him, fuming, flustered, scrambling for something to say. He looked so infuriating standing there, grinning, bare-chested, awaiting a reply! Urgh!

Why not just plunge in headfirst, when life is nothing but mistakes made over and over again? And she hurtled forward, anger blazing in his eyes—Indy backed away, his eyes wide with alarm--and she kissed him.

He was shocked, not responding as she pressed herself flush against him, kissing him furiously; then he kissed her back with equal ferocity. It was as if all their fury, anger, misunderstandings, grievances were poured into this kiss, from one pair of swollen lips to another, and dissipated into oblivion as he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her, stroking her hair tenderly, and she choked out a sob against his lips.

They broke away, and she sniffed discreetly, refusing to meet his gaze. But he reached out between them, tilting her chin up, until he was staring deep into her dark brown eyes. 'You still shouldn't have done that.' she added weakly, offering him a quavering, hesitant smile. He smiled, and then he dipped his head in to kiss her again.

Tell me what you think!