AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Daryl had seen some bad thunderstorms in his life. He'd been through countless hurricanes that blew some category four winds as far inland as the little trailer where he'd ridden them out with his brother, Merle. He'd once lived through an earthquake, while hunting with Merle near Charleston, that had rocked the old building around them. He'd lived through a tornado, holed up in a barn, with Carol and the rest of their group.
Daryl had been at least somewhat frightened by storms before.
No storm had ever been as terrifying as the ion storm. The electricity in the air made his hair stand up on end all over his body. The ground shook. The house shook and trembled like it might fall around them. Despite the cover of the house, they weren't entirely protected from the supercharged elements outside. The four of them huddled under their table—the only additional protection they could find—and waited out the storm. It seemed to rage on for hours and hours, and it only seemed to get worse.
Everything that hadn't been on the floor at the start of the storm was on the floor not even an hour after it had begun. Daryl wrapped Carol in his arms and, following Chakotay's lead, practically covered her body with his own in the same manner that Chakotay covered Kathryn. Daryl assumed the position was to offer comfort, but it was also to act as a shield against whatever the table might not stop.
Daryl felt a little moved by the fact that, before the whole thing had really died down, Carol had drifted off to sleep in his arms. Despite the fact that things were still entirely touch and go, she'd apparently gotten comfortable enough with her situation to simply sleep. He'd even gone so far as to check her, quickly, to make sure that he hadn't accidentally smothered her. She groaned at him, disapprovingly, and smiled at him before snuggling back against him like the wet floor was the best place to sleep that should could imagine.
Of course, they'd slept in worst places—weather aside.
Chakotay had it a bit harder than Daryl did. Kathryn had been as terrified as Carol, in the beginning, by the supercharged weather around them and the fact that they had not true way to take complete cover. She'd been further upset by the fact that the shaking of the house and the intrusion of the elements into their space threw the equipment around until pieces of it breaking off, and flying through the air like shrapnel, became one of the primary things that Daryl and Chakotay were blocking, to keep it from striking the women, with their bodies acting as cover.
Kathryn's hope had been very intwined with that equipment that was shattered around them. She'd been delaying the acceptance that they were never leaving the planet. The destruction of everything made that acceptance sink in far too hard and far too fast.
She eventually fell asleep—wrapped so tightly in Chakotay's arms that she'd practically disappeared as an individual—but it had only been once the storm had died down to little more than a light rain and a whistling wind outside.
"We're alive," Daryl breathed out quietly, when he was almost certain the storm had passed. Neither he nor Chakotay moved to disturb the women that were finally asleep.
"We're alive," Chakotay seconded.
"Do these—ion things—have eyes?" Daryl asked.
"What?" Chakotay asked.
"Eyes," Daryl said. "You know—like hurricanes? Is it comin' back?"
"They're more like thunderstorms," Chakotay offered, finally understanding. "It's gone now."
"Thunderstorms from the pits of hell," Daryl muttered. "Prob'ly damn near morning by now."
"Doesn't matter," Chakotay said. "We all need to get as much sleep as we can get. Let the storm finish. Tomorrow—or today—or whenever we get out there, we'll survey the damage and clean up what we can."
"She's gonna be upset all her stuff got broke," Daryl offered.
Kathryn had literally worn herself out. Daryl was sure of that. She was sleeping from sheer exhaustion, and not from the odd and early comfort that Carol had seemed to find in being buried under Daryl's body while the storm raged around them.
"She's going to be fine," Chakotay said. "She just as to come to terms with it."
"She might welcome a little help with that," Daryl offered. "Come on—let's get everybody to bed."
111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Carol woke enough to walk herself to the bedroom, but it was clear that she did not intend to wake entirely. Daryl steered her to their bed, and he wrapped his arms around her and stole a kiss as they stood beside the bed.
"At least the wind didn't blow rain this deep in," Daryl offered. "Bed's dry."
Carol kissed him lazily. Her lips lingered on his. She let her tongue dart out and she laughed quietly before begging a deeper kiss once more. Daryl humored her, though the kiss was far more playful than deeply passionate.
"I'm tired," Carol said, pulling out of the kiss. "I would sleep in the bed even if it were wet." She began to peel off her soggy clothing. Daryl followed suit. He laughed to himself.
"I know you would," he said. "You was as content as you could be sleepin' in that puddle on the floor."
Carol laughed. She pulled her hair down from the knot where some of it was still fastened up. Most of it had fallen loose from the wind and the day's struggles. She shook it loose, the water making her curls draw up the length of it more dramatically than when she kept it fastened back with the tightness ironing out her natural curls.
"It was warm," she said. "Safe. And we weren't doing anything else."
"I ain't mad you slept," Daryl said. "Still—hell storm like that, I was surprised you could."
Carol smiled at him. She sat down on the bed, unapologetic about her complete nudity now that she trusted him to accept her body just as it was.
"You make me feel safe," she offered.
"Always gonna try to do that," Daryl said.
"I know," Carol said, matter-of-factly. She yawned and let herself under the blanket. She groaned at the obvious comfort of the bed. She patted the bed next to her. "You always have. Come on," she said. "Keep me safe and warm some more."
Daryl laughed to himself and, finishing ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, he made his way to his side of the bed, crawled under the blanket, and worked his way over to her. She moved enough to readjust herself so that he could comfortably hold her, and then she sighed with a great deal of satisfaction.
"Everything of Kathryn's got destroyed," Daryl said. "Shit was flyin' everywhere."
"I know," Carol said.
"We ain't never leavin' this planet, Carol," Daryl offered.
"I know that, too," Carol said with a yawn.
"You don't care? Once and for all? That we're stuck here together?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed to herself.
"I've already been stuck at what I thought was the end of the world with you," Carol offered. "And I've told you before—I don't care where we go, as long as we're there together. Besides, it's honestly the nicest planet I've ever been on."
Daryl laughed to himself and snuggled against her.
"You ain't wrong, woman," he mused. "Go back to sleep. We got a shit ton of work ahead of us tomorrow."
1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Chakotay had managed to move the table, lift Kathryn, and carry her to the bed before she woke.
She had cried long enough that she was possibly dehydrated and she was definitely exhausted. He hushed her quietly as he lowered her to the bed.
"You have to sleep," he said. "And you have to stay still until I put you down because I don't want to drop you."
She sat up as soon as he'd rested her on the mattress.
"You built the bed," she mused.
"We spent the whole morning working on it," Chakotay said. "We hardly finished it before the storm. I meant for us to have more time to talk, but…do you mind if I at least share it with you? It's pretty late. Or early, depending on how you look at things.
Kathryn frowned to herself, but Chakotay didn't take it personally or believe, in the least, that the frown was meant for him. She patted the bed beside her as an invitation. Chakotay nodded.
"I'm just going to change," he said. "I'm soaked."
He stepped behind the privacy screen that they'd created the first night to keep from having any awkward moments as roommates. He might have hopes and dreams about their future together, but they weren't there yet and he wasn't going to make Kathryn uncomfortable. She watched him, though, even as he changed behind the screen.
Foregoing any other cover for his modesty beyond his underwear, he made his way back to the bed. As he sat down, Kathryn left the bed.
"If you're uncomfortable," he offered, "then you can take the bed and I'll bring a cot back in and dry it off."
"No," Kathryn said. "It's just—I'm wet, too. From the rain."
Chakotay understood her intentions, then. She slipped behind the privacy screen and fumbled with her clothing. It was dark enough that Chakotay was almost certain that her modesty could have remained intact without the screen. Either morning had not broken yet or the storm was still covering enough of the sky to block out the early morning sun.
Chakotay closed his eyes. He felt his body drift and rock in the odd way that it had always done when he was exhausted to an extreme point. With his eyes closed, he could almost feel like he was aboard an old-fashioned ship that had set sail on the ocean.
He'd almost drifted off to sleep when he heard Kathryn softly say his name. He jumped when he opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Kathryn breathed out.
"It was just a—nervous reaction," Chakotay said. "From being almost asleep."
"You're exhausted," Kathryn said. "We should just—go to sleep."
It was only at that moment than Chakotay realized that Kathryn was standing beside the bed—she was standing next to him—but she'd rid herself of the soggy dress she'd been wearing. Instead of replacing it with the blue nightgown, however, she stood beside Chakotay in nothing more than a bra and panties. Even in the very dim light, Chakotay could tell that she felt, perhaps, a little awkward and exposed.
And she was beautiful, no matter the light.
His heart kicked into overdrive and every bit of the desire to sleep that he'd felt left him. He moved over, making room for her on the side of the bed that she seemed to have chosen, even though it was the side that he'd already physically claimed.
She didn't say anything. She slid into the bed. She pulled the cover around her. She worked her body close to his.
When the cold skin of her stomach—still a little damp—touched Chakotay's bare skin, other parts of his anatomy gave the call to his whole body that sleep was for the weak. Kathryn kissed him, this time, and she laughed quietly when his interest must have become known to her.
"Does this mean—you don't want to go to sleep?" Kathryn asked.
"Not right away," Chakotay said. "Not if that's—what you want." Kathryn kissed him again and Chakotay stilled her when he pulled out of the kiss, his fingers caressing her cheek. "I know you've been through a lot—emotionally—in the past few hours, Kathryn…"
He felt her fingers—as frigid as the rest of her thanks to the long-term exposure to the icy rain—find the band of his underwear. He hissed as they found him and wrapped, icy cold, around him. She whispered a soft apology to him and stroked him gently. He felt like he lost all his breath and the cold didn't matter any longer.
"I know what I've been through, Chakotay," Kathryn said softly, peppering his face with kisses as she stroked him. "And—I know what I've lost. I don't want to talk about that. There's—only one thing that I want to talk about now."
She pulled her hand free. Chakotay sucked in some air. To say that his body was starving for her was an understatement. If she turned him out of the bed, he would go, but he wouldn't be happy about it. He didn't think he could even pretend, at this point, for her benefit.
"Anything," he said. "Anything you want, Kathryn."
He touched her. He let his hands trail over the soft skin of her stomach and sides. He rubbed them over her back. He dared to brush them over her breasts—still covered by her bra. She reached her hand up, caught his, and he let her direct him.
She brought his hand down to brush the cotton of her panties—still damp and cold. They were the ones she'd been wearing.
She kissed him again.
"I don't want to talk about—what I've lost," she said. "I want to talk about—everything I still have to gain."
Understanding, Chakotay covered her mouth with his as his hand found its way inside her panties. She rolled onto her back as his fingers slipped through soft curls. He touched her—found the warmest part of her, though it was certainly wetter than even the rest of her—and teased her with his fingertips.
After a few moments with no protests, he took off his underwear. She rid herself of her bra. He worked her underwear down her legs and dropped them over the side of the bed where everything else had collected.
The sun was beginning to rise outside. The room was growing lighter as the day came to life around them. None of that mattered, though, as Chakotay exchanged hungry kisses with the woman that he'd dreamed of holding for years. The scratch of her short nails down his back was one of the few sensations that helped him realize that he wasn't dreaming. This wasn't some cruel trick of his imagination.
"You're sure," he breathed out, positioning himself above her. Everything in him begged her to be sure.
She responded by spreading her legs and opening herself entirely to him. She scratched his back gently, again.
"Gentle," she said. "It's been a few years."
Chakotay's mind screamed out with a happiness unlike any he'd ever felt before as he covered her mouth with his own and slow eased himself inside of her. He stopped, fully seated inside her, to give her a moment. He kissed her. Rubbed her face. He'd often found it difficult to believe that someone as amazing as her could be real. It was doubly impossible to believe that she was real now. He told her as much as he felt her body relaxing around him, accepting his presence.
"I can hardly believe you're real, Kathryn," he breathed out.
Kathryn let out a breath that sounded like she'd been holding it. She smiled at him. She kissed his face and ran her fingers through his hair.
"I'm real," she said. "But—you better know…and maybe it's a little late to be telling you this…but…I get very attached. Once we do this? I'm not going to want to let you go. Ever."
Feeling that she was relaxed around him, Chakotay responded by rolling his hips and tentatively thrusting into her. She opened her mouth to him in response and he smiled to himself. He repeated the gesture a few times, savoring the way it felt to be tangled so intimately with her.
"That's good," he breathed out in between thrusts that she met with enthusiasm as soon as she had taken a second to adjust to his rhythm, "because—I'm not ever letting you go."
