The ship was dark, windows shuttered against the eerie glow of the Time Stream. Leonard moved silently, shaking his head when Gideon asked if he wanted her to turn up the lights. He already knew the ship, knew every turn and corridor, partially by sheer force of habit, partially from his proclivity for taking walks while the others were asleep.
Leonard didn't sleep much. Three hours and he was good, much to the amazement of Mick, who could not get by on less than nine at the very least. Needless to say, that left Leonard with a lot more free time than the average person. Normally he would be out in the city, casing buildings, observing the movements of security guards and patrol cars, finding the rhythm of the life around him. But the ship was small, and he had long since learned the routines.
That's why he headed for the storage room. You see, he wasn't the only one who had trouble sleeping.
The lights in the small room, converted into a makeshift gym, were off. Leonard frowned, moving forward to push the door open. Maybe she was asleep. He felt a moment of envy, but pushed it aside. Let the others have their peaceful oblivion. He had no use for it.
A rustle, then he was flat on the floor, his hand wrenched viciously behind his back, cold, solid metal pressed firmly against his throat, forcing his chin at an awkward angle.
"Is that a bo staff in your hand, or are you just happy to see me?" he asked sardonically, though speech was harder than he really appreciated, glancing at his assailant out of the corner of his eye.
"Have you never heard of knocking, Leonard?" Sara asked coolly, though there was a slight smile in her voice. She didn't let him up, though the pressure on his arm did ease, leaving him pinned to the floor, but not in pain. Leonard looked at Sara balefully.
"I'm a thief," he replied. "What do you think?" Sara remained still for a moment, keeping him pinned to the floor, then she chuckled, removing her staff from his throat and sliding off him.
Leonard rolled onto his back, resisting the urge to rub the abused skin. Sara was standing above him, clad in nothing but black spandex, her preferred sparring clothes. She offered him a hand, and he reached up, taking it firmly.
Sara saw the leg sweep coming just moments before it happened, giving her just enough to lunge forward instead of falling backwards onto her ass. Leonard helped her, pulling hard on her hand, rolling as soon as she was on him, reversing their positions so that Sara was the one on her back and he was above her, body pinning her to the floor.
"Well look at this," Leonard drawled, smirking. "Rather compromising position you seem to find yourself in, Miss Lance." Sara raised her eyebrow, grinning up at Leonard. Then, in one swift move, she surged upwards, flipping Leonard over onto his back, slamming him to the floor, her legs straddling his waist.
"I don't know, I think I like this one better," Sara said, grinning down at Leonard, who was making no move to get away, instead looking up at her with blue eyes almost eclipsed by black.
"I'll just bet you do," he replied, the undercurrent of a rumble in his voice, meeting her gaze directly, almost a challenge. Sara looked right back, meeting his challenge with defiance, suddenly aware of how warm his body was beneath her, the firm muscles she knew had to be hidden under all those layers pressing against her in all of the best ways.
"You know, if you had wanted to be underneath me, Leonard," Sara murmured, leaning down, never breaking eye contact, grin almost feral. "All you had to do was ask."