A birthday gift for a very dear friend. Happy Birthday, Natalie! :)
Lucy smelled like lavender
That was the one thought that continued to parade its way around Wyatt's mind as they crouched by the door they'd seen Emma and Carol slip into. Their ears were both pressed up against the wall outside the room, hoping to catch what they were discussing, but it was to no avail. Either the room was soundproofed or Emma and Carol were speaking in such hushed tones that nothing could be discerned.
When it became clear that he'd learn nothing from this, he let his mind wander.
And that was when he'd decided to guess what kind of shampoo Lucy used.
"Do you hear anything?" she asked, her voice soft. He shook his head, mentally clearing his thoughts and trying to get back into the game. Right, Emma and Carol. He straightened up, clearing his throat gently.
"No, I think this is a dead end," he admitted. "We should head back and find Rufus before someone comes down this way," he reasoned, taking her hand to pull her away from the door. She nodded and began following him.
Halfway down the hall, Wyatt thought he heard voices. Panicking, he gripped Lucy's hand tightly in his; what if Carol and Emma had simply been waiting?
"Wyatt?" she asked, her other hand reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.
"Someone's coming," he whispered, quickly backing her into the wall, shielding her body with his own. "I'm not sure who it is, but what if Emma and Carol were waiting for someone?" Lucy's eyes widened.
"Rittenhouse," she whispered, and he could see the moment that she figured out how it would look if the two of them were down here for no reason. "What do we do?"
Wyatt's thoughts battled with themselves. Rufus' nagging voice from a few weeks earlier suddenly erupted in his mind. You're in love with Lucy, just admit it! Now was not the time to be thinking of that; he had to keep her safe.
Yes, because he was in love with her, but that wasn't important right now.
The voices were growing closer, one of them definitely belonging to a man. His head wasn't in the right place; he needed to focus, needed to find a way to keep Lucy safe, keep her from being recognized by whoever was on their way.
Her eyes were bright, shining in the dimly lit hallway, and her lips were slightly parted with worry. The voices rounded the corner, and Wyatt did the first thing he could think of.
He kissed her.
Lucy squealed in surprise, but he gripped her waist firmly, trying to calm her down. He pushed her harder against the door, hoping the dark curtain of her hair would be enough to hide her from whoever was currently waddling down the hallway.
A sharp giggle rang out from behind them, and Wyatt glanced to the right for a split second to assess their surroundings. A drunk couple stumbled down the hallway, the woman hanging off of the man's neck, giggling uncontrollably.
So, not Rittenhouse. Not a threat at all.
He slowly pulled away, watching as Lucy's eyes fluttered open, clouded with confusion. Her lipstick was slightly smeared and she was panting, her breaths coming in short quick bursts that he could feel huffed against his neck. He quickly backed away, his hands dropping from her waist as if he'd been electrified. He rubbed the back of his neck as Lucy smoothed her dress down, glancing at her shoes.
"We should go," she piped up eventually. Wyatt nodded his agreement. "Yeah, we need to find Rufus," she mumbled, taking off down the hallway. He quickly followed after her, careful not to touch her again.
Three hours later, Carol and Emma had fled 1941 and the team was a little worse for wear. Rufus was stumbling alongside them as they headed back toward the Lifeboat.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Lucy asked quietly, leaning in to help support Rufus as he yawned once more. He shook his head suddenly, and both Lucy and Wyatt quickly helped Rufus toward a bench to sit down.
"How opposed would you two be to staying a little longer in 1941?" he asked breathlessly. "I just need a couple hours of sleep before I try to fly a time machine," he insisted, and Lucy nodded her head.
"Of course, Rufus, let's head back to the hotel and get you a room," she suggested, glancing at Wyatt.
"Yeah, that's fine," he agreed. "Come on," he grunted, helping Rufus stand as they turned back around and headed to the hotel they'd come from.
The team agreed that Rufus should get his own room, so he could have peace and privacy, and Lucy and Wyatt would get a room down the hall and do research for the two hours. Rufus smiled thankfully at his friends and trudged to his room. Once they were assured that Rufus had made it safely, Wyatt and Lucy made their way to their room.
"This is us, ma'am," Wyatt grumbled, glancing up at the number above the door, 219. Lucy smirked at the nickname and pushed past him into the room. "So, how exactly are we going to research history in 1941?" he asked as Lucy sat down in the armchair. A fire was already crackling in the fireplace, which didn't seem safe to Wyatt, but he decided not to dwell on it.
He also decided not to dwell on the fact that Lucy looked absolutely radiant in the firelight.
Lucy gently picked up a newspaper from the coffee table in front of the fireplace, another fire hazard, and handed him another. "We read," she replied, opening her newspaper with a flourish. He chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, scanning through the headlines.
"What am I looking for, exactly?" he asked, turning the page to continue reading an article. Lucy shrugged, already frowning down at her own paper with that intense concentration she always posessed during their late-night study sessions on rare days that Emma and Carol would give them a break.
"I'm honestly not sure," Lucy murmured apologetically. "But, if something jumps out at you, it'll probably be important. We still don't know why they came to 1941 in the first place."
He watched her carefully as she read her newspaper, purposefully not looking at him even though he knew she could tell he was watching her. He could see it in the way her cheeks flushed, how she bit her lip to try and force herself to concentrate on what she was reading, how she absently tucked her hair behind her ear every few minutes.
The same conversation with Rufus a few weeks ago came back into his mind. He hadn't admitted it, of course; at that very moment, he'd caught a glimpse of Carol and Lucy on their way into a medical tent and had immediately followed her, throwing caution to the wind, not resting until she was safe.
"Lucy," he murmured, and he watched her tense as she forced herself not to look up at him. "Luce, can we talk?"
"About what?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly as she turned the page, pointedly avoiding his gaze. He sighed, folding his newspaper shut and setting it down beside him, taking a deep breath.
"Look, I'm sorry if I took you by surprise," he began, fully intending to tell her the truth. He was going to tell her everything, including what Rufus had begged him to admit just a few weeks ago as they chased after her in 1918.
"No, it's fine, Wyatt," she cut him off, finally looking up at him. She smiled gently. "It's fine, I get it. We didn't know it wasn't a threat, and we had to keep our cover. It was smart," she finished, turning back to her newspaper.
He frowned at her as she continued reading, knowing that keeping their cover hadn't been the only thing on his mind when he'd pushed her up against the wall. It had taken up a majority of his thoughts, yes, as had keeping her safe at all costs. But, he knew that wasn't the only reason he'd kissed her.
"No, Luce, look," he began again, clearing his throat as he stood from the bed, tossing his newspaper back onto the coffee table. "That wasn't the only reason I did it," he admitted. She frowned up at him, gently setting her newspaper aside.
"What do you mean?" she asked softly.
And suddenly, he was at a complete loss for words. He just stood there, staring at her, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she gazed up at him. She stood, crossing the room to rest her hand on his shoulder.
"Wyatt?" she whispered, and he could hear the worry in her small voice. The words just wouldn't come; when was the last time he'd actually said them? When was the last time he'd actually meant them? "What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head, her brow furrowed.
Something inside him snapped with that one small movement. He quickly leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers before he could think twice. She whimpered softly, surprised, but stayed still otherwise.
After a few moments, Lucy staggered back, her eyes wide. Wyatt let her go, standing there patiently as he watched the gears slowly begin to turn.
"Oh," she whispered. The fire crackled between them, breaking up the otherwise silent room. She stood there, her gaze continuing to be drawn downward, toward his lips.
All at once, before she even knew what was happening, she'd launched herself into his arms, kissing him hard, her arms wrapping around his neck. She felt him lean forward, his hand smoothing up her back and folding into her hair, holding her close.
Lucy sighed into the kiss, gasping as Wyatt's mouth migrated to her cheek, moving to pepper kisses along the column of her throat. She quickly reached down to tug his dress shirt out of his waistband, her hands smoothing up his chest as their lips clashed together again. She tugged his suspenders off of his shoulders, and pushed him backwards until his knees hit the bed.
Wyatt grunted as he fell onto the edge of the bed, where he'd just been sitting, and Lucy cursed the circumference of her dress as he held her waist. He chuckled, reaching up to unzip her dress and quickly help her out of it. Lucy retaliated by quickly undoing his buttons and pushing the shirt off of his both laughed as they fell back onto the bed, Lucy immediately curling up in Wyatt's arms as he kissed her.
The allotted two hours ended all too soon, and afterward, Lucy and Wyatt lay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, trading lazy kisses. A sharp knock on the door startled them out of their post-orgasmic haze and Wyatt quickly leapt up, pulling his underwear and pants on and his gun from his pocket.
He glanced back at Lucy who was scrambling to pull her dress back on as he stopped at the door. He glanced through the peephole and immediately relaxed, tucking his gun into the wasitband of his dress pants. Lucy had disappeared behind another wall to finish getting dressed, so it was safe to open the door.
"Hey, sorry, I overslept," Rufus apologized as he shuffled through the door. Wyatt cleared his throat, awkwardly slipping his shirt back on and hurriedly buttoning it up. "You took a nap, too?" Rufus asked, frowning at the bed. He straightened as he noticed one of Lucy's shoes that had been carelessly shoved aside once he'd gotten her dress off. "Oh," he murmured, turning back to Wyatt with a cheshire cat grin. "You sly dog," he teased, and Wyatt chuckled nervously.
"Are we ready to go?" Lucy called out, having gotten fully dressed again. She stepped out from behind the wall, missing a shoe. "We don't want the others to worry about us," she reminded them as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to fix it where Wyatt had unintentionally messed it up.
"Where's your shoe, Luce?" Rufus asked, smirking, and she blushed, crouching down to grab it from it's hiding spot under the bed. "Before we go, I'd just like to say," Rufus began, pausing as Lucy slipped her shoe on and met her team at the door. "It's about damn time."
With that, Rufus marched through the door, and Lucy followed. Wyatt hung back a bit, though, and quickly reached out for her hand, pulling her back. "My thoughts exactly," he whispered before kissing her quickly. She laughed as she pulled back, his hand carding through her hair.
"Everything's going to change now," she realized, running her hands up and down his arms. Wyatt nodded, knocking their foreheads together.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed and she chuckled again. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before curling his fingers around hers and tugging her out of the room, following Rufus back to the Lifeboat.
The ride back was uneventful, and Agent Christopher was less than pleased to hear that they still had no idea why Carol and Emma had even been in 1941.
"You said they stayed in that room for how long?" she asked Wyatt again. Under the table, he had intertwined his fingers with Lucy's, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. Rufus and Jiya had noticed, but thankfully, no one else had.
"At least an hour," he replied, turning to Lucy for confirmation. She nodded, frowning as she tried to discern the amount of time they'd spent down there. "We heard footsteps and thought it might be more Rittenhouse agents, so we left the area before they did." Agent Christopher nodded; he'd told her that earlier.
"And afterward," she prompted, leaning against the back of an empty chair. Wyatt and Lucy exchanged a glance as Rufus held back a snicker at their obvious discomfort.
"We ran into them a couple of hours later at the hotel, but soon received notification that they'd returned to the present," Lucy supplied. Agent Christopher tilted her head at that.
"Why did it take you three extra hours to return? Was someone hurt?" she asked, now glancing down at each other members, assessing their well-being. Lucy smiled appreciatively at her.
"No, ma'am, Rufus just needed some rest before he flew us home," Wyatt explained.
"And what did you two do while he was resting?" she asked, genuinely curious. Jiya smacked Rufus lightly as he chuckled into his hand, disguising it as a cough.
"We did research," Lucy answered, squeezing Wyatt's hand. "We scoured newspapers to see if there were any changes or events that would've drawn them to 1941, but we came up empty."
"Right, and I ended up oversleeping, so I went back to get Lucy and Wyatt, and then we came home," Rufus finished, clearing his throat to disguise another chuckle.
Agent Christopher nodded, seemingly satisfied by the debrief. "Very well, you're all free to go. Get some rest; we're not sure when they'll take the Mothership out again." The team nodded and she left the room.
Immediately, Wyatt raised his and Lucy's hands above the table and helped her out of her chair. Jiya grinned, nudging Rufus.
"Hey, you two," she beamed. "What's going on?" Wyatt glanced at her, chuckling.
"Goodnight," Lucy replied, hiding a smile of her own as she let Wyatt lead her out of the conference room.
"So," Wyatt began, wrapping an arm around Lucy's shoulders. "My place or yours?" he asked. She chuckled, tilting her head at him.
"Well, seeing as they're both the same place," she trailed off, leaning in to kiss him.
The drive back home was uneventful, save for Lucy's wandering hands, and by the time they'd pulled into his apartment complex, their need for each other had grown even more since earlier, and Wyatt had hardly stepped out of the car before he and Lucy crashed into each other. He held her tight as they struggled up the stairs to his apartment, Lucy tripping in her heels more than once, stumbling away from Wyatt with a giggle.
He unlocked his door, pushing it open with her against it, then flipped her around to slam it shut. She whimpered as her back collided with the door, and Wyatt silenced her with another thorough kiss. She kicked her heels off as Wyatt lifted her into his arms, spinning her away from the door and toward his bedroom.
They collapsed on his bed in a fit of laughter. Wyatt smoothed a hand through her hair, his thumb brushing against her cheek. She gazed up at him, still giggling slightly.
"I love you, Lucy," he whispered, the words suddenly not hard to say at all. Lucy breathed in sharply, her head straightening. She pulled him back down to her, sealing her mouth to his, her arms twisting around his neck to hold him closer. He kept his weight off of her with one hand beside her head while the other fused itself to her waist, slipping under the hem of her top, his fingertips dancing across the skin of her stomach.
The front door closing startled them, and Wyatt frowned down at Lucy as he slowly pulled away, reaching for his gun. He quickly made sure Lucy was safe behind him as he crept to his bedroom door.
Wyatt gently nudged the door open with his toe, careful not to let it creak, and peered out into the living room. A woman's handbag sat perched on the arm of the couch, and Wyatt frowned. Lucy hadn't been carrying a handbag, had she?
Behind him, Lucy had begun to look around the room, her gaze zeroing in on a particular framed photo on the nightstand.
"Wyatt," she breathed as she stared down at the photo. Before he could answer, another voice spoke up.
"Wyatt, are you here?"
Wyatt felt his blood run cold as he turned back toward Lucy. She held up a framed photo of him and a blonde young woman that looked to be in her 30s.
Jessica.