Adding another piece to the ever growing pile of Future!Lyatt fluff, with some good ole' fashion Present!Lyatt thrown in for good measure (because I love them both with my whole heart) This will be a two-parter! Enjoy!


The mess area is occupied by everyone except the guests of honor from the future themselves. Lucy's occupied herself in a book, Denise has yet to arrive, Flynn is scraping together some semblance of breakfast with the measly ingredients found in the bunker, and Jiya and Mason are going over the information future Lucy and Wyatt had provided. Wyatt is doing what he does best, silently observing his friends (and Flynn) while trying to process everything he had learned which surprisingly has not been that much. Their visitors from the future have told them the bare minimum of what is needed to know and refuse to say anything more, Future Lucy as worried as ever about affecting the future too much. As if their plans to go back and save Rufus wouldn't do that enough.

Lucy dropping her book to her lap and glancing around shakes him from his current train of thought. The bruises from her confrontation with Emma have begun to fade and the cuts are shrinking day by day, but there are still shadows of the whole ordeal hazing her eyes, shadows the Future Lucy seems to be free of. He hopes his future self played a hand in ridding her of them, maybe bringing some light back into her life. He casts his Lucy an inquisitive glance, silently asking her what has drawn her from her reading.

"You hear that?" She asks vaguely. He would normally be thrown into a military mindset at such a question, gun drawn, ready to fight, but by what he reads in Lucy's expression, she isn't concerned or worried… just confused. "It sounded like a grunt or a…" she clears her throat. "A moan?" There is a touch of pink on her cheeks, and it dawns on him what she's referring to, but he refrains from jumping to conclusions.

"Maybe it's just—" And then he hears it. A loud, long groan he never thought he would hear come from a voice that sounded a whole lot like the historian sitting a couple feet away. The other people in the mess hall seem to be keying in on the sounds as well, their suspicious eyes drifting to the present pair even though it's obvious who the sound must be coming from.

The noises become more consistent and more varied. Groaning, slapping, laughing, the occasional "oh fuck," and what Wyatt can only assume is someone being shoved up against a wall.

He nearly chokes on his coffee.

"Well that's new," Mason says tightly, clearly unsure of how to react to the recent developments. "You know, Jiya, we should really start configuring these upgrades to our Lifeboat. Let's… Let's get to that." He's out of the kitchen quicker than anyone has seen him move.

"Good idea," Jiya agrees, but with a much less uncomfortable look on her face. Instead she looks ready to burst at the seams with laughter, casting a quick glance at Lucy and Wyatt before following her former boss out of the kitchen.

Wyatt shifts his gave toward Flynn who is still busying himself with his eggs but clearly pursing his lips to keep a shit-eating grin from spreading across his face, always seeming to know more than he's letting on.

"You got something to say?" Wyatt shoots at Flynn, but the man just shrugs, not even lifting his gaze from his food.

"Might just want to go take a look before you start jumping to any conclusions," Flynn suggests. Wyatt isn't sure whether the ex-terrorist is trying to lead them into an incredibly awkward trap, or he's actually trying to help them get out of this already incredibly awkward situation, but before he has a chance to respond Lucy is already on her feet and walking cautiously toward the source. So Wyatt follows.

As they get closer Wyatt begins to differentiate what he thought was hearing from what is actually going on. He hears thump and another faint grunt followed by "Damn, Lucy, really got that one under me." And a laugh that he knows without question to belong to the woman in front of him.

"Well, I did learn from the best." Lucy, his Lucy, is halted beside him, not quite keyed in on what is happening. It's only a second before the sounds start again, slaps, thumps, grunts, and moving air. When a quiet laugh leaves his mouth, Lucy looks up at him, silently begging for an explanation.

"They're sparring," he whispers into her ear and a look of realization crosses her brown eyes.

"Oh…" she breathes with a slight chuckle behind it, hiding her face in her hands for just a second. "Well, that's…" The question of whether it's a relief or not is hanging in the air. He just tilts his head towards the sound with a curious quirk of his eyebrows before continuing in that direction.

"Wyatt," Lucy whispers harshly behind him, but he walks froward, peeking around the corner.

He isn't quite prepared for what he sees.

His future self is more or less what Wyatt would expect to see from any Delta operative training hand-to-hand maneuvers. Ratty basketball shorts, no shirt, bare feet, hands lightly wrapped, sweat beads forming on his brow. Nothing new there. It's this Future Lucy that has him a little dry-mouthed.

Her short hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail with some loose strands slicked to the sides of her face with sweat. She, like her partner, is also not wearing a shirt. The only difference in their attire being the black sports bra that starkly contrasts Lucy's still fair skin and the shorter, fairly tighter shorts, highlighting her long legs. There are lean muscles rippling through her back and arms that Wyatt is quite certain his Lucy doesn't yet possess. Her legs are just as slim, but much more defined. This present Lucy is beautiful as any woman he ever seen that he's sure of, but for a reason he can't quite yet discern, he holds a different kind of reverence for this Lucy. As he watches her move it becomes a little bit clearer.

He's seen the moves she's using on this version Wyatt, he's learned them, he's trained them, he's even taught them. This Lucy is applying moves specific to Delta in her fighting, skills she would only have learned if he had taught her himself. And by what he is witnessing, he is guessing that's exactly what happened.

While soldiers are taught many of the same maneuvers and tactics, each person has their own style to fighting, their own signature, and he sees his own signatures in the way Lucy moves. How her jabs aim a little offset to strike the hinge of the jaw rather than the brute bone of the cheek or chin, how her kicks aim lower as to disrupt his footing (he always thought a roundhouse kick to the face was just a little too time consuming), and even how she held her hands between strikes, open, rather than in fists. But even with the reflection of his particular fighting style, Wyatt notices something distinct to Lucy's movements that made her fighting her own.

As much as it shocks him to say, there is an amazing amount of grace in the way she works around his future counterpart. What he sees in himself is fire, spitting and sparking when the moments suits, disjointed, angry, yet effective, but she's like water, always in motion, a certain calmness about her even in the midst of the fight, her movements always seeming fluid, connected, and when they meet in the middle, the air hisses as if they were just that, fire and water in combat.

But it's in the second he sees Lucy get caught off her guard by something he can't see that Wyatt has her pinned, back against the cold concrete of the bunker, hand closed hauntingly tight around her throat. To his surprise, however, Lucy just drops her head to the floor and laughs, her hand coming to rest on top of his.

"Dammit," she chuckles. "I fell for it again." After it's clear their fight has come to an end, all tension falls from the older Wyatt's body, and he settles on his knees beside his Lucy, wiping a sweat-soaked strand of hair from her forehead.

"Gotta watch for both hands, Luce," he laughs along side her, but Wyatt can hear the concern his future self is trying to mask.

"I know that," she sighs. "Just have a lot on my mind."

"Well when isn't that the case?" He smirks and she just mockingly rolls her eyes. "You have to be ready for anything, even when there's a lot going on in that ginormous brain of yours. Isn't that right, Master Sergeant?" Hearing himself calling him by his rank is confusing enough to shake him out of his sharp focus on the scene before him.

"You have two hands," he answers back. "One for distracting and one for fighting." It's a lame saying he's used all his years in the military, but it still sticks with him. He learned to fight just as strongly with his left side as well as his right, so his opponent would never be able to discern from what side an attack would come. It took a lot of mental stamina, keeping up with direction of attack as well as direction of feet and body position, but it served him well and earned him a good deal of respect from his brothers back before all this time-traveling business began.

By this time, his Lucy has made her way to his side and is more or less gawking at the scene before her. Always a more modest woman, she's struggling to keep a blush off her cheeks at the sight of her seemingly more open future version, but as Future Lucy is helped to her feet by her Wyatt, and immediately goes to throw on a shirt, he thinks the two might not be so entirely different.

"You two…spar together?" He asks, unsure if it's a question he should be asking the still fairly mysterious duo.

"Every morning," Lucy answers, casting a shy smile at her Wyatt. "For almost exactly five years." Wyatt takes a little more time grabbing his own shirt, but he meets her gaze as he finishes tugging it over his shoulder before throwing his eyes toward the present Lucy beside him.

"Yep, started pretty soon after all that began to fade," he explains, gesturing gently to the wounds marring Lucy's face. "Didn't like the idea of you not knowing how to defend yourself in the case I couldn't be there, so I taught you how to kick ass with your fists as much as you could with your brain. Didn't expect you to turn out better than I was though." He grins and Lucy's eyes go a little wide. The closest to true physical fighting she had ever come was with Emma not even a week earlier and her face was striking evidence of how well that turned out. The thought of her being a better fighter than Wyatt, especially this future Wyatt, is a lot for her to believe.

"Feeling up to a challenge, Logan?" Wyatt asks his younger self, nodding his head towards his Lucy who had just begun removing the wrap on her hands but freezes at her partner's words.

"A—A challenge?" He asks for clarification.

"Yeah," the older Wyatt smirks. "I get the feeling you could use a good refresher, and she'll go easier on you than I will." If he knew any better (and he did, as he was quite literally talking to himself) he'd think this Wyatt is almost daring him to fight his Lucy, prodding him. He hasn't exactly had all the training amenities he did before the Rittenhouse explosion, but this isn't a skill that's easy to forget. What the hell?

"Yeah okay," he accepts, and he can feel his Lucy's wide eyes shift towards him. "I could do with some refreshing." The future pair meet eyes for a moment, sharing a silent conversation. He wonders if he and his Lucy do that so obviously, or if it's a trademark they have yet to develop.

Lucy finishes unwrapping her hands before stepping back towards the more open space of the hallway, gesturing to the are in front of her. He's still in his t-shirt and flannel pajama plants, but it's not like he hasn't fought in worse.

"Are you sure this is a great idea?" Lucy asks as Wyatt comes to stand beside her. "I mean she's—"

"She's one of the best fighters I've ever trained," he cuts her off with an obvious sense of pride. "She—you—don't take to it right away, and believe me she's still just a clumsy as you in almost every other situation, but you two share that razor sharp mind, and it transferred here better than I could have ever hoped." She has so many more questions, but when she looks up at him, he's clearly locked into the scene in front of him. Brows furrowed, one arm crossed over his chest while the other hand rubs across the hair on his face, and his eyes presently trained on his Lucy, flicking furiously as if analyzing every move she makes, so much more of a silent, patient observer than the Wyatt she knows. Her eyes transfer to the point of his focus. As she looks at them she can't help but think how odd it looks seeing them next to each other. This Lucy is only a few years older than herself, and certainly doesn't show many physical signs of that difference, but there is something about the air around her that make it seem like she's lived a hundred lifetimes since the here and now.

There's a quick beat where the two size each other up, and then the fight begins. Lucy is amazed to see herself, this future version of herself, hold her own so well with her Wyatt. She's seen Wyatt fight with more bad guys than she cares to count, but it's always been a struggle for her to fully comprehend what she's seeing. History is books, words, things she can read analyze again and again until it's memorized and stored away, but it's things like this, moments so quick and fleeting, that can often fly over her head. That's why the whole "living history" idea was so hard for her to grasp in the beginning, and that's why she had a hard time believing that what she is seeing is her. That this woman who almost sees Wyatt's movements before he makes them, who punches, kicks, dodges, flips in such finesse and confidence is her. But here she is. And she's in awe.

It feels like she's been watching them for hours, matching each other move for move, but it couldn't have been more than 30 seconds before this Lucy finds an opening, lands a jab square to Wyatt's nose before hooking an ankle behind his neck and bring his full weight hurtling to the ground. A minute ago she would've been positive such a move was physically impossible, but there it was, and the fight is over.

"You alright there, soldier?" Lucy chuckles as she leans down to offer Wyatt a hand. To her own relief, Wyatt laughs despite the steady stream of blood coming from his nose.

"Yeah, I'm good," he responds, wiping the red from falling into his mouth. "Guess I'm a little more rusty than I thought. You've got one hell of a jab there, Professor." She helps pull him to his feet.

"I had one hell of a teacher," she admits. "But don't tell him that." She feels more than hears the rumbling laugh that comes from the older Wyatt's chest. She glances up towards the bearded version and is a little thrown by the lack of blue in his normally startling blue eyes.

"Oh, he knows," Wyatt responds, walking towards his Lucy, his voice a little more gravely than it was a moment ago. "Lucy," he calls her direction. "Your Wyatt could use a hand getting that cleaned, don't you think?" She thinks she understands what's going on, so without another word she grabs her Wyatt by the elbow and guides him back towards the mess area and sitting him down before hurrying to grab the first aid kit.

"Head forward," she instructs, gently guiding some gauze toward the source of the bleeding. "The last thing you need is to be throwing up blood later."

"You know, I have had a bloody nose or two in my day," he teases lightly, glancing up at her over the increasingly red fabric.

"Just… let me take care of you, okay?" She sighs, and lets the air settle around them for a second before adding, "She's pretty impressive, huh? Think you could actually teach me how to be that bad ass?" He quirks an eyebrow at her, his blue eyes shining.

"I think you underestimate how badass you already are, Lucy." His voice is slightly muffled behind the gauze. "She might pack a little more of a punch, but you two are still the same. I apparently taught you successfully once, so who's to say I can't do it again? Although I clearly have some refreshing of my own to do first." She can't help but laugh at that.

"Yeah she did knock you on your ass pretty easily," she lightly jabs. "But like you said, he might pack a little more punch, but you're still the same. He was where you are, and if it's you and me learning together…" she takes a deep breath. "We tend to make each other better together than if we were alone." His eyes lock with her, and she thinks he's about to say something before they're interrupted by a sound that this time can't be mistaken for what they were hearing earlier. Her head darts in that direction.

"Wyatt!" A voice she only knows to be hers giggles from down the hall. There's a split second where she doesn't think she can feel more mortified, but then there's the slamming of the bathroom door, and the unmistakable sound of the chair being dragged into place.

"At least it's more subtle than putting a sock on the door," Wyatt quips, but there's a tightness to his voice that says he's almost as uncomfortable as she is.

"I don't think there could actually be anything less subtle," she chokes out a laugh, hoping her blush isn't as obvious as it feels. "But despite the incredible amount of awkwardness, it's kinda… umm… nice… I mean—"

"Nice to see them so in love?" He finishes for her, speaking the words she can't bring herself to say.

"They must have been through hell, Wyatt," she contemplates unable to help but glance back over her shoulder to where they all were moments ago. "Yet they're still so happy together. It just… it gives me hope." He knows there are boundaries neither of them are ready to cross yet, and he's still bleeding profusely from his nose, and there are now sounds coming from the communal bathroom that even he feels a little scandalized to be hearing, so he just settles for a hand resting on top of hers.

"Hell might be what's coming for us," he tells her. "But if it's you and me, I think we're gonna be okay."


I've never written anything related to fighting, or hand to hand combat stuff so if anything is far-fetched or just inaccurate please be gentle haha

Next chapter we'll see things from Future!Lyatt's POV, so stay tuned, and please review!