New Harlem almost seemed like a prison colony, dark and dirty. The people inhabiting the planet were much the same way, though most weren't convicts, escaped or otherwise. It was just a rough place. Many of the buildings looked ready to fall over, though they really weren't. Dust storms swept through the city on regular intervals, the dirt kicked up from the surrounding wasteland. It was fine sand, gritty and grimy. Got in all the cracks and crevasses.
A shadow moved down one of the smaller side streets, dusk growing darker and darker, hiding the body's form as it paused at the corner, just looking out over the intersection. A gravelly chuckle broke the quiet atmosphere as a sign flickered on, neon lights buzzing and flashing before staying on and beckoning thirsty travelers and residents to visit Lucky Lady's. A body moved in the window of the door, the click of the lock indicating they were now open for business. The man in the shadows continued to watch as a steady stream of patrons wandered in.
---
Katrina Marshal smiled as another regular customer nodded at her, and she filled a glass with ice, twirling a bottle of vodka around her hands before catching it in her fingers, turning it upside down to measure out roughly a shot of the alcohol. She slid the glass across the table, her hand going to the money he just laid down and his going to the drink. She winked and went back to prepping the bar, stocking shot glasses and tumblers.
"Watch the bar for me, James?" she asked quietly, her hired bartender nodding slightly as she reached for a large bucket and slipped to the back room. She whistled along with the jazz music floating quietly through the place as she shoveled ice into the bucket, lifting the heavy load with ease as she headed back to the bar. Two coins dropped into the jukebox as she poured the ice into the chest. A slow, mellow trumpet melody started playing, and the bucket lowered slowly to the ground, a small smile playing on her lips. A stool on the short end of the bar creaked as it became occupied, and, without looking at the man, she reached for the most expensive whiskey they carried, not bothering with her bottle tricks before pouring a double shot and sliding it over to him, her blue eyes finally settling on him.
He continued watching the door as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and she noted the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he placed it between his lips. With a flick of her thumb, she held the flame of her lighter to the end of his cigarette, and his eyes finally met hers. Her eyebrow rose slowly, her smile deepening as he nodded his thanks and exhaled a slow swirl of smoke, reaching for the glass she'd set down in front of him.
"It's on me, stranger," she said quietly. Another small nod, and she turned to another customer. She didn't speak to him the rest of the night, instead serving her regulars with the personality they'd come to know and love, and he just watched her. She only acknowledged him the few times she refilled his glass, an understanding between them that every drink he consumed in her bar was on the house. He took in her slim frame, deceptively thin, actually. Her leather pants hugged the soft curves of her body, the slopes of her toned stomach showing under the hem of the red tank stopping an inch above her navel, but camouflaged under the black long sleeve mesh shirt, the hem of it stopping just above the silver studded belt keeping her pants poised at the widest part of her hips. The sleeves of the mesh shirt fell to the middle knuckle of her thumb, a loop around her middle finger keeping them from riding up her arms. It was tight enough to show her arms were well built while still hiding the definition. Her boots added nothing to her height, her pants hiding most of the shoe, but he knew they were combat-style, the laces coming nearly to the toe to make her feet look smaller. Steel-toed, most likely. And like most of the clothes hanging neatly in her closet, they were black.
He downed another shot, deciding not to sip this one, and continued watching her on the sly through casual glances. A touch of a smile curved his lips as a silver ring on the index finger of her right hand glinted in the dim lights above the bar when she reached up to tuck a loose chunk of her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear, most of it now falling out of the pony tail. It was carved with ancient Celtic symbols, he knew. She'd fallen in love with the markings she'd seen on a jewelry box on the street, and he'd found the ring off planet somewhere, he couldn't remember where exactly. He'd had it sent by space courier without return markings, knowing she would know it was from him. As her hair moved, the dragon on her shoulder emerged from its hiding place, its nose peeking out from under the collar of the mesh shirt. His fingers twitched around his glass as his mind wandered back to the times he'd traced the lines of all three tattoos marking her skin.
Like most female bartenders, she flirted insatiably with every regular customer, and more so with the new patrons, with the exception of him of course. Her blue eyes would twinkle, a tiny smirk lighting her face. He knew it was all an act. Once the bar closed, she was reminiscent either of what he was paid to chase down or the women he worked with. In fact, when he was out on his deeper runs, he'd avoid her kind in the whorehouses just because he'd think of her and not be able to go through with it. He'd consciously choose the softer types, more curves and less muscle. Though he'd revel in knowing the woman under him, though she was paid to be there, was incapable of defending herself without a weapon, incapable of taking care of herself in the cruel worlds he frequented, was more feminine and proper than the woman milling around behind the bar just a few feet from him, he'd miss Kat intensely. The teams he would assemble when the call came in would have no idea he was spoken for, neither from his words nor his conduct, but he was. It wasn't a committed relationship, not a "normal" one even. Their bond was simply understood. When she was around, he was hers and she his, even if no one else knew it.
Patrons started clearing out, the hours passing quickly to him as he watched her and remembered. Dusk had turned into darkness, streetlamps flickering on and off as the electricity connections wavered and subways passed below the streets. He continued staring into his drink as she leaned against the side of the bar opposite him, crossing her arms across the scarred wood to lean closer to him. His eyes finally slid over to hers when she tapped the corner of a keycard on the bar.
"Why don't you go on up and clean up," she said quietly. He glanced around the bar quickly, noting the other bartender helping one drunken patron out to a waiting cab and the other two customers too involved in a card game to notice if he slipped through the back door. He nodded, his fingers lightly brushing hers as he took the keycard from her. Her eyes followed him as he stood, adjusting his belt as he walked away, leaving her to wipe down the bar and close up shop. James returned a few moments later, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"Stranger leave?" he asked slowly. A simple nod as she dropped empty beer bottles in the garbage can. He harrumphed, and she glanced at him quickly. "Didn't see him leave."
"Well, you had a hell of a time getting Marty to get into that damn cab out there," she quipped with a twisted smile. James snickered, shaking his head.
"Surprised he didn't just ralph all over me again." Katrina laughed, shrugging as she capped the pour spouts on the liquor bottles and wiped them down. "So who was he?"
"Who?"
"Mr. Silent Stranger over there," James answered, nodding to where her secret companion had just been sitting. She gave him a noncommittal shrug and ran tonic water through the soda dispenser to clean it.
"Just a thirsty traveler," she answered. "Comes in every few months or so."
"He's been here before?" James asked, surprise evident in his voice.
"I know all my customers, James," she chided. "I don't pay you enough to." James' hearty laughter boomed through the wooden walls of the bar, and she found herself giving him one of her rare genuine smiles.
"You pay me fine, Kat," he said, a touch of sentiment attached. She snickered, shaking her head. "I wouldn't step foot in the places that would pay me better."
"Yeah, they'd make you wear a fuckin' bow tie," she scoffed, rewarded with another amused snicker from her only other employee. "That shipment of new booze comin' in tomorrow?" she asked. He nodded, heaving a crate of dirtied glasses onto his shoulder. She watched him disappear into the back room.
"Your water's running again."
"Got the washer on a timer," she lied, keeping her eyes on the table she was wiping down. "Otherwise I'd never have clean clothes." James smiled, and they met in the middle of the room, each wiping down half of the tables. "You go on home, Jimmy," she said, nodding toward the door. "I'll finish here and lock up."
"Sure?" She gave him a small nod. "See you tomorrow."
"Be careful," she called, waiting until she heard the door click shut before walking to it and locking it behind him. The bar was eerily quiet, save the sound of her shower running upstairs, and she grunted just to break it as she carried another crate of dirty glasses into the back room, whistling to herself as she loaded the industrial dish washer. She headed back out into the bar, stretching her arms overhead and smiling as the water shut off, leaving the building completely quiet. With a weighty sigh, she opened up the cash register drawer, counting out three hundred universals in both paper and coin and placing it back in the drawer, closing it and locking it with the key on the chain around her neck before turning to the night's profits. Her fingers flew as she counted the coins first, dropping them into a manila envelope, and then the bills, wrapping a rubber band around twenty of each denomination. A light smile touched her lips at the total, and all the money went into the bag with the coins. Next came the credit slips, and the small smile widened. She closed the bag and flipped the lights off, kicking the back room door shut behind her before punching the button to start the dishwasher. After tucking the money into her safe, along with the register key, she started up the steps slowly, pulling the mesh shirt over her head.
---
He smiled as he stepped into the shower, inhaling deeply through his nose to absorb more of her scent. The entire place smelled like her, even the bar despite the thick cloud of smoke hovering in the air. His head tipped back, letting the warm water run over his face and taking with it the grime he'd picked up from the dust storm he'd walked through from the hangar. He just stood there under the spray for a while, watching the dirt and blood from recent dried injuries swirl down the drain at his feet, and once it started running clear, he reached for the soap, quickly wrapping up the rest of his shower. He toweled off, wrapping the fluffy green material around his waist. With a pleased rumble in his chest, he reached for the disposable razor still sitting on the back of the sink, quickly cleaning up the lines of his beard, forgotten in recent days. He ran his fingers through his damp curls and heaved a sigh as he crouched down to open the cupboard under the sink. Another uncharacteristically soft smile touched his lips as he ran his hands over the clothes he'd been wearing last time he'd cleaned up in her apartment, washed and folded neatly since then.
---
She knew the bathroom door would still be closed when she entered her small apartment above the bar, just like it always was. He'd shower, clean up his beard, and find the clothes he'd worn the previous time he'd stopped by. It was a routine. Their routine. She headed into her bedroom, dropping the mesh shirt into the hamper tucked in her closet, pulling off her boots and dropping them into place next to the hamper. The bathroom door clicked, and she looked up, watching him walk into the kitchen area of the main room. Her socked feet moved silently over the wood floors, and she leaned against the doorway, watching him rummage through her fridge. She watched him select some of her leftovers and stand in front of the open refrigerator, picking through a half-eaten jar of black olives as he hunted with his eyes. She moved to the opening between the breakfast bar and wall, leaning against the counter as she continued to watch him.
The play of the bulky muscles under the skin exposed by the black beater he'd pulled on fascinated her, and she watched them move as he lifted another olive to his lips, sucking the juice from his fingers. Her own fingers twitched at the memory of his tongue swirling around them, and a light blush crept into her cheeks. He tossed the now empty can into the trash with a metallic clink, and kicked the fridge door shut, stopping as he turned and finally noticed her presence. Her eyebrow rose as his eyes quickly flitted over her body, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
"You already stop off at Lupus 5 for another team?" she asked quietly.
"Not yet," he answered, leaning backwards against the main counter. "No new orders yet." She nodded slightly, tilting her head to the side. "How's business?"
"Booming as usual," she said with a smile. "Good thing too," she continued. "The cold season is a few months away. Slows down to a crawl then. Get the money now and scrape by in the winter." She shrugged, making it seem like no big deal. The bar always pulled through, and probably always would. He mirrored the slight tilt of her head, reaching out to tuck a chunk of hair behind her ear. His eyes settled on her face, taking in the delicate lines of her features. When she'd gone down to work this afternoon, her brown hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail, only the two streaks of white allowed to hang in slow spirals around her face, but by the end of the night, most of her curls had fallen from the elastic meant to hold it back, and the mussed look was the one he looked forward to. Her eyes closed at his touch, and he threaded his fingers through her hair, nudging the rubber band from the smooth strands. He caught it in the hook of his little finger, watching her shake her curls free as he set the rubber band on the counter.
"Looks better down," he commented quietly, watching an internal smile send a twinkle into her eyes.
"Gets in my way when it's down," she returned, taking a step backwards from him before turning toward the living area of her main room. He followed, taking in the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away from him. "You have any idea when you get the next orders?" she asked, her voice suddenly flat. His small smile disappeared as she stopped behind the couch, letting her hands rest on the back of the frame.
"No idea." Goose bumps rose on her skin at the gravel in his voice. The hairs on her neck stood up on end as he came closer, leaving just a breath between them as he closed the distance. "Probably a couple days." She nodded, leaning back against his chest as his hand slid around her bare stomach. Her waist was small enough for his entire arm to wrap around her, his fingers curling around her other side. She moved her hands from the back of the couch to his hips and then slid them down to the outsides of his thighs, digging her fingers in gently as it finally sunk in that he was really back. He felt her moan vibrate against his chest, even though she didn't let it break free from her lips, and he lowered his head, rubbing the tip of his nose along the side of her neck.
"You smell better now," she commented quietly, smiling as he granted her one of his trademark harsh laughs. It was those laughs that let her know she amused him, and it sent a thrill of a shiver up her spine. She pressed back harder against him, digging her fingers into his legs more tightly. The moment passed, and the room fell silent again, the two occupants just reveling in the contact so long in absence from their individual and separate lives. "Are you okay?" she finally asked tentatively. He shrugged, his hand reversing its path around her middle as he pulled away from her, turning back to the kitchen. A brow twitched downwards as she turned to watch him. "I can run to the store tomorrow," she offered. "Pick up something more to your liking." He shrugged, and she sighed. "I'm gonna see it eventually, so you might as well show me." His foraging paused, and he turned slowly, eyeing her warily. "I'm not one of your pay days, remember?" she pressed with a bemused smirk. A hint of a smile, and he straightened, pulling the beater over his head with a stifled grunt. Her brows furrowed, and she closed the distance between them. The muscles in his stomach rippled as she ran her fingers over the gauze taped to his side, still wet from his shower. Her eyes flitted up to his face, but he was focused on her fingers, now tugging at the tape. As she pulled the makeshift bandage away, a fresh stream of blood started trickling slowly, and she mopped it up, holding the bloodied gauze to the wound as her other hand wound around his wrist, pulling him with her back into the bathroom.
"You just have to fucking baby me, don't you?" he asked, trying to hide his hurt pride behind exasperation, but she only plopped him on the toilet seat and made him hold the gauze in place. As she stood up, her lips pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, and he couldn't help but smile. She left him there to retrieve her meager first aid kit from her room, returning quickly to watch him dab at the gash tenderly.
"Pants off," she ordered. His eyebrow rose as he looked up at her, and she snickered. "Oh, don't start being modest now," she quipped. "You don't take them off now, you get to wear them bloody when you leave. I'll only wash one outfit of yours per visit." Something flashed through his eyes, and it was an emotion she didn't recognize, but she didn't press. Slowly, he stood, holding the gauze pad with one hand and going to work on his belt with the other. She sighed, batting his hand away and taking over undressing him, pushing his pants from his hips into a heap on the floor, leaving him now only in his shorts. She kicked his pants out into the hallway and moved the medical kit to the floor, sitting beside him.
She didn't want to watch his face, instead watching his fingers grip the sink counter as she stitched him up and rubbed an antiseptic solution over the wound. Only once did he let a pained hiss escape, and she let herself steal just that glance to his face before continuing to treat him the best she could. When she was satisfied with her work, she mopped up the blood that had escaped and taped a fresh gauze pad over the wound and stood, moving toward the door, but he caught her wrist to restrain her. Her eyes held a question in them, but he only nodded, a tight smile relaying his thanks. His hand released her, and she stooped to pick up his pants from the hallway floor, heading into the kitchen to retrieve his shirt. He was standing in the bathroom doorway when she passed by him, and he watched through the doorway as she draped his clean clothes over the foot of her bed. Even though she didn't hear him, she knew he'd left the bathroom doorway to lean against the doorframe to her room, but she ignored him to go ahead and turn down the sheets.
"If I'd known you were coming I would have gotten something for dinner," she said quietly. He shook his head, making a grunting noise in disagreement. "Just so you know, you'll have to use the back door tomorrow if you go anywhere. James was asking who you were." He nodded.
"Don't want anyone to know about me, huh?" There was a strangeness in his voice, and she couldn't help but look up at him sharply.
"You know it has to be like this," she said slowly. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked away. "There are plenty of people I see on a daily basis in my bar who would either never come back and drive my business under or kill me if they knew who you really are," she said, a slight tremor in her voice. "It's this way or nothing." He turned away, leaving her room, and she flopped onto the bed with a weighty sigh. After a moment, she scratched her head and stood, changing into her pajamas before heading back out to the living room. He'd flopped on her couch, and was flipping through the channels on her vid screen, the sound still turned down from when she'd left the apartment before going to work. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, even as she slid onto the couch between his knees, leaning her back against his chest. Not wanting to start a game of remote control Rambo with him, she laced her fingers between his, lifting his free arm over her shoulder. Though his hand remained limp in hers, she felt him move to sniff her hair, and smiled, turning her head to nuzzle her nose into the underside of his chin. "You shaved for me," she commented quietly, letting her lips lightly brush his skin as she spoke. The rumble in his chest served as her answer, and his fingers finally closed around hers, squeezing once. She pulled her hand from his grasp and slid onto her side, pulling the remote away from him and clicking the sound up to audible, and they lay there for a while, just pretending to pay attention. When the credits started rolling for the movie they'd ignored just to get used to contact with another person again, he took the remote from her, turning the vid screen off before dropping the remote to the floor with a muted thud and wrapped his arms around her tightly, pressing his cheek to her forehead.
"I'm too old for you," he commented quietly, smiling at the light chuckle his statement prompted. It was true, she realized. Here he was, in his early forties, and she'd been bedding him on and off for the past four years, ever since she was twenty-five. She knew she wasn't the only one he went to, but there was no one else for her. Safety, for her, relied on seclusion, and though she pretended to be everyone's girlfriend when she was playing bartender, James was the closest thing she had to a friend, and he was hired help. And even though the man she clung to so tightly right now knew her better than she did sometimes, she was safe because it wasn't serious. If the calls to duty ever ended for him, she'd have to leave him for good. Either that or piss him off to the point he wouldn't come back. She pushed the thought away and turned, leaning with one elbow to either side of his ribs and hovering over him.
"No," she said, letting a sly smirk slide into place, "I'm too young for you." He gave her another one of her favorite laughs, tilting his head back and baring his throat to her. She took the opportunity, and his laugh turned into a growl as she dipped her head, catching the flesh on the side of his neck gently between her teeth. It was one of the things she loved most about him – the vocalizations he made for her. She figured it must have been a while for him. With just one touch, she felt his body's reaction, and usually it took more than a gentle nip. Encouraged, she moved her nibbles to his ear, smiling as he sucked in a sharp breath and reflexively ground his hips upwards into her stomach. His eyes opened as she pulled away, finding her face hovering just millimeters from his own, that look in her eye already in place. He never asked if there were other men, didn't want to know for fear of what his reaction would be to finding out that look was given to someone other than him. He pushed the thought away, letting his eyes drops to her lips, but she shook her head, that devious smile returning. She dipped her head again to repeat the attention to the other side of his neck, this time trailing down to his chest.
He tried to bite it back, but he just couldn't confine the hiss as her tongue swirled around a nipple and then the other. It was one of his favorites of her tricks, simply because no other woman bothered with the details. As her teeth clamped down, he instantly wished he could pay her back, make her spine arch as his did now, but he was terrified that with the piercings claiming her nipples he'd get too enthusiastic and bite too hard or pull one out. She was one of, if not the only person he'd sworn to himself he'd never hurt. His protesting groan was marked with her light laugh as she sat back on her knees, running her hands down his arms to encircle his wrists and pull him up with her. Instantly, his lips gravitated toward hers, but she shook her head after turning her head away and receiving another questioning glance. After moving from the couch, she pulled him to his feet and guided him toward her bedroom door, falling in behind him, her fingers tracing the slopes of his shoulders and back. He stopped just inside the door, and she continued forward, her hands running down his arms as her lips followed the trails her fingers made. She ducked under his arm slowly, giving her kisses time to follow along his skin in a haphazard trail, slowly leading back up to his collarbone. His arms wound around her waist, one hand flattened on the small of her back and the other trailing light touches up and down her back, his fingers following her spine under her night shirt. She let out a contented sigh and pressed her cheek to his skin, letting her eyes fall closed as she slid her arms around to his back and mirrored the patterns he drew along her skin.
"Any new tats?" he asked quietly, a part of him disappointed when she shook her head against his chest, and another part of him glad her skin hadn't been harmed again. A quiet rumble thundered in his chest as her lips pressed to the side of his neck before she took a step away from him. She waited for his eyes to drop to her hands, now grasping the hem of her pajama shirt, before she pulled it off, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides. He took the step forward she took back, his hands sliding around her waist again and pulling her to his chest, lowering his head, but again, she evaded his lips. He let out a frustrated growl, and she only smiled wickedly as he let his head drop backwards.
"Patience," she whispered. Another aggravated groan escaped him, but his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Her hands slowly skimmed along his skin, running up his arms to wind around his shoulders, and he lowered his head to the angle joining her neck and shoulder, his attentions unbroken as he lifted her off the ground against him. Her legs twined around his waist, evoking another of her beloved moans from him at the contact, and he slowly lowered her to the bed, his lips starting their own slow exploration of her skin as she buried her fingers in his curls. His fingers almost touched each other as they encircled her waist, but whether it was because his hands were so large or her waist so thin he didn't know and didn't care. His thumbs lightly stroked her skin as his lips moved along the valley between her breasts, and her hands guided him gently to the left. He took a moment to glance up at her, but she arched her back, rubbing her nipple in the rough hairs running in a thin line along his jaw, and he stared at her for a moment before obliging, gently drawing a lazy, wet circle around the nub with his tongue. He paused again to glance up at her, mirroring her pleased smile before closing his lips around her, letting his fear of hurting her go and even letting his teeth nip at her gently, rewarded with a surprised gasp and the arch of her back he'd always craved. His own moan mixed with hers as he moved to the other nipple, her hips grinding against his just as he'd done when he'd been on the receiving end.
He hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of her pajama pants, his lips moving a slow, torturous trail down her stomach as his hands slid her pants down her legs. Before he could lean on his hands to ease his lips' craving of more of her skin, she snapped her legs around his waist and flipped him over, attacking his neck with her teeth as her hands roved over his skin. As she moved down his chest, she shifted her legs between his, and he lifted his hips as she tugged on his shorts, letting her draw them down and off the end of the bed in a pile with her discarded clothing. He watched her look at him for a moment, her eyes hungrily taking in the deep tan of his skin, the light sprinkling of hair on his torso, the hills and valleys of muscle clenching in anticipation of fulfilling his desire – need – for her.
"Not bad for an old man," she quipped quietly, tilting her head to the side with an evil smile. In an instant, he sat up, wrapping his hands around her arms and wrenching her forward onto his chest. She chuckled, still refusing to let him kiss her by burying her face in his neck as she moved to straddle his hips. The heat she nestled against him as she let her weight press into him prompted him to press upwards, increasing the friction, both of them moaning at the sudden contact. As she planted kisses all over his face, with the exception of where he wanted them most, he settled his hands in the creases of her hips and wriggled under her to find a position allowing him to maneuver himself into her slowly, and when he did, her kisses stopped, her forehead pressed against his, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a silent cry. His hands slipped along her sides to press against her back before he rolled her over, their lips finally meeting in the process. He didn't bother to try to contain the groan building at the fervor in her kisses, her fingers twining in his curls to hold him against her. She ground her hips against his, encouraging his movement, but he was too busy reveling in the heat of her, the sensations of her lips against his, and the tiny mewling noises she made deep in her throat. Her spine arced more than it should have been able to as he finally started moving, slowly at first.
Her lips broke from his only to reattach to his shoulder, her hands leaving his hair to grip his arm with one and his back with the other, her fingers digging into his skin in rhythm with his hips. She bit him quickly, probably harder than he normally would have let someone, but one, this was her, and two, it only spurred him on, his pace increasing. A groan vibrated in his throat, and she pressed her forehead against his neck to feel it, her gasping breaths tickling the sweat-dampened skin on his chest. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, twining her toes together, and let her head fall back. His lips instantly found hers, quieting her moans as she started trembling under him. She wrenched her lips from his, pressing her cheek against his as her face scrunched, her breath halting.
"Breathe, darlin'," he whispered, his throaty voice in her ear sending her over the edge with a strangled cry. The ringing in her ears was all she heard, but she felt him follow, his movements more erratic and his fingers digging into her skin almost painfully. She kept her eyes closed, even as he stilled and settled against her, his head on the pillows next to hers and his nose barely grazing her cheek. When the quiet hum stilled, she smiled lazily, letting her head loll to the side, the sides of their noses touching. She felt the muscles in his stomach tighten before he moved, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss, and she responded in the same way, letting another quiet moan go unrestrained. Their skin stuck together as he lifted away from her, pulling her against him as he settled on his side. She nuzzled her shoulder into his armpit as he pulled her closer to him, resting her head on his chest as she let an arm snake around his middle. "I think I need another shower," he drawled through a yawn, receiving a light chuckle from the woman pressed against his side.
"No," she answered, "you smell like me now." Her smile remained as she watched his stomach contract with another of her favorite laughs, and she ran her fingers over the tightened muscle. His hand covered hers, curling around her fingers. She let her eyes close, and felt his lips press against her forehead as she fell asleep.
---
He was alone when he woke, the sheets where she had been already cold, but the smell of bacon frying was too alluring to let go. With a stifled groan, he stretched, taking up the whole bed in the process. Three new pairs of his favorite kind of shorts lay already washed on the bedside table and he smiled, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. He pulled a pair on and shuffled out of the bedroom, scratching his backside. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled quickly before turning back to breakfast, and as he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, she sat a plate down in front of him.
"Store?" he asked gruffly. She nodded, already munching on a crispy strip of bacon. They ate in silence, Kat still standing at the stove. She cleared his plate when he was finished and set it in the sink. As she ran the water, he stood, walking around the breakfast bar to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, dropping a kiss on her shoulder before staggering into the bathroom. She heard the water turn on and smiled, heading into the bedroom to make the bed and tidy up. He emerged not five minutes later, a towel hanging off his hips.
"Mind if I use your computer?" he asked, the sleepy gruff gone from his voice. She nodded with a small smile, and he walked to her, pausing only long enough to give her a quick kiss before going to her desk. Her hands went to her hips, head hanging as he swore and glanced at her quickly. She heard him stand and walk toward her, but she turned her back to him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Kat…" he trailed off as she shook her head. His clothes rustled as he dressed quickly, and she turned to watch him, a saddened expression on her face. She blinked and looked away as he looked up at her, his brows furrowed. He stood, wrapping his arms around her from the side, a hand cupping her cheek as he pulled her head against his chest. "I'll be back as soon as it's done," he promised. She shook her head, pulling herself from his grasp as she turned, hiding the tears sliding down her cheeks. "Will you at least look at me?" he asked harshly, more out of frustration than anger. She finally turned slowly, and he sighed, reaching out to cup her face in his hands, brushing her tears away with his thumbs.
"I don't have a good feeling about this one," she said quietly, turning her head out of his hands. He took a breath, but couldn't think of anything to say, so he just scratched the line of beard below his lip with his thumb. "Don't go," she said quietly. His eyes closed at the defeat in her voice, so uncharacteristic of her. He'd expected her to cuss him out and hit him a few times before throwing him out of her apartment, even though they both knew he was always welcome back.
"Listen," he said finally. She turned back to him, eyebrow arched. "This is a big one. Never seen so many zeroes in my life." Her eyes narrowed. "I can't turn it down, darlin'." A heavy sigh, and she turned her back on him again. "It'll keep you open every winter for a decade."
"I don't give a shit!" she exploded. Well, this is more like it, he thought with a wince. "Who was it that said the more money, the better the chances of not coming back?" She whirled around, eyes angry now. "Oh yeah," she continued, "that's right. It was you." He took a breath, but she waved away his answer. "I've never asked you not to take one," she said. "But I'm asking you now." Another interrupted breath. "No, I'm telling you. Something doesn't feel right about this one. Don't take it." He reached out slowly, still unsure of whether she was ready to clock him yet or not, but she let him tuck a curl behind her ear.
"The team's meeting up on Lupus 5 in a week. I have to leave today to get there on time." She sighed, lowering her eyes from his. "Come with me. I'll find you transport home from there."
"I can't," she whispered, shaking her head. "James can't handle the bar by himself, and I don't trust anyone else. Just don't go."
"I have to, baby," he whispered back, pulling her against his chest, his lips pressing to her temple.
"You won't come back," she said, her words muffled by his shirt.
"I promise I will." She only shook her head, clinging to him tightly. He had to pause and think about it for a while, really think about it. She was right. She'd never asked him not to turn a call down, never even questioned his leaving. And worst of all, he'd never seen her this insistent he do or not do something, and that bothered him. But this was a lot of money, and he couldn't exactly afford to turn it down.
"You won't," she insisted, clutching him tighter. He sighed, pulling away from her just enough to look at her. His lips met hers for a brief moment, and he untangled himself from her grasp, going to the door. He reached for the handle, and paused.
"Please," she whispered, shaking her head. He turned, his boots thudding across the floor as he closed the gap between them, wrapping her in a crushing hug as his lips claimed hers possessively. Their fingers tangled in each others' hair and roved over the other's body frantically. The kiss slowed, and they pressed their foreheads together, both panting for breath. "Don't go," she whispered. He removed his hands from her, and she watched with a confused expression as he unfastened the chain around his neck, only to fasten it around hers. He lifted her chin with a finger, their lips joining in a tender kiss before he turned, walking through her door. The tears sprang free as she heard the back door slam, and after a few wet sobs, she got herself in check, cleaned up, and headed downstairs to open the bar.
---
It had been a year and a half since Kat last saw her elusive lover. Lucky Lady's had made it through two winters with larger profits than usual, though still a marginal success, and now that the weather was warming up again, she looked forward to the business to take her mind off her loneliness. As she poured a regular's usual drink, the doors swung open, a group of three mercs waltzing in. The room fell silent, except for the jukebox's quiet jazz, but their weapons stayed secured to their belts, and eventually the room calmed down. All three plopped down at the bar.
"What'll it be?" she asked, giving each of them their own charming smile, tailored to how she sized up their personalities. It was a gift of hers, and as always, all three men smiled back at her. She filled glasses for them and busied herself behind the counter, eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Yeah, we found him alright," one said.
"Pieces anyway," the second corrected with a snort. "Evidently someone pulled off a break and threw him in with the Hellhounds."
"Shit," the third guy breathed. "Bet they tore him apart without killing him first," he predicted. The other two shrugged.
"Well, at least we have a chance of getting the bounties he always got. Fucker got big ones," the first said quietly, eyes darting around the bar to see if anyone overheard. If they did, they ignored him.
"Who, Toombs?" the second quipped. Kat's stomach hit the floor without asking her brain's permission, and she dropped the glass she was putting on the rack. It shattered, spewing shards into the ice bin, and she swore.
"You okay Kat?" James asked, watching her pick up the visible chunks.
"Yeah," she lied, tossing what she'd found in the garbage. "Can you clean out the ice bin?" she asked, wrapping the towel she'd been holding around a rather deep laceration in her forearm. "I gotta go clean this up." He nodded, but she was eyeing the mercs, who were now looking at her peculiarly, as though they'd figured out she dropped the glass because of their conversation. She smiled apologetically. "Check your glasses boys," she said. "I don't know how far it went." As they all looked down into their glasses, she slipped into the back room and up the stairs to her apartment, the tears breaking free at the top of the steps. She stumbled up the last two stairs, crashing through her door and onto the floor, a quiet sob escaping her. Gritting her teeth to shut out both sources of pain, she picked herself up, retrieved her medical kit from her room, and retreated to the bathroom to stitch herself up. She wrapped gauze around her arm, ripping the tape between her teeth, and slid down the wall to the floor, letting the pain resurface.
Tugging at the chain around her neck, the clasp broke, and she hugged it to her chest. She kicked open the cupboard under the sink and pulled Toombs' shirt from the shelf, burying her face in it. Despite her alreading having washed it, it still held a faint trace of his smell, even after being soaked with her tears. She heard footsteps nearing, and James appeared in the doorway.
"You okay?" She nodded.
"Yeah, fine. Go back to the bar," she sniffled. He crouched next to her.
"Taylor's watching it for me. Everyone saw you bleeding, so no one's ordering until either you get back or I tell them you're okay."
"Go back, and tell them I'm fine. Just a fucking scratch," she insisted, meeting his eyes. His brows furled at the sight of her tears. "I'm just stressed out, okay? Just give me a minute to collect myself and I'll be back." He nodded, grudgingly leaving her in the floor. It was the first time she'd ever regretted not telling someone how she felt about them. The first time she felt strongly enough about someone to have that guilt. As quickly as the pain hit her, it was gone. She stood, wobbling only slightly, and went to the sink, washing her face quickly in cold water. After patting her face dry, she descended the steps, emerging back into the bar amidst whoops and cheers. Drinks sloshed, and conversations picked up, and her sorrow was abandoned. Until the doors closed and she was alone again, anyway.