Note: this chapter is NSFW.

Show Me

"Nothing good, I suspect." She grins and winds her arms around his neck. "Though we'd have given your Jedi friends quite a show before we got shoved out an airlock."

Theron's cheek goes hot where it's still pressed against hers, and when she turns her head to look at him he's blushing clear to the tops of his ears.

"Didn't think of that, did you?"

"Not at the time. But between the industrial-grade sedatives and you walking around in your underwear," he shrugs, "I was a little distracted." His mouth brushes hers, fingers curving beneath her as he takes a half-step back, lifting her up and drawing her forward off the counter.

When her feet touch the floor she shivers and leans against him- she hadn't noticed until now, sweat beaded on her skin, how cold it is in the medical bay. "Only a little? I must be losing my touch."

"Okay, a lot. Less than now, but- hey, you alright?" He runs his hands up and down her upper arms; it does help a bit.

"I'm fine." Her glance flicks downward, toward the pile of clothing (mostly hers) on the floor, toward him in shirt and boots and unfastened trousers and herself, bare below the waist, in just her bloodstained undershirt and boring practical bra and why does it even matter what fucking bra you're wearing, idiot, it's not like-

(Oh, is she ever in trouble.

She isn't any better at this than he is- she's almost certainly worse, since to go by his letter he's had enough practice at relationships to admit he's bad at them. She's just never bothered. In an abstract sense it wasn't against the rules but between her assignments and simple indiscriminate opportunism she never lacked for sex when she wanted it and most of the time that was enough. 'Close one's eyes and think of the Empire' seemed terribly dull, after all, and with training and practice affection wasn't hard to fake; pretend affection pleased her targets just as well as the real thing and when it wasn't real it wasn't a liability, couldn't be used as a weakness to be exploited.

Except none of this is pretend.)

Theron's still trying to keep her warm but he stops for a moment, rests his hands on her shoulders and his forehead against hers. "You sure?"

"Yes. I just..." Her thoughts race a thousand parsecs a minute in a hundred different directions, sharp spikes of anxiety knifing into the back of her brain.

-it's not like you care what he thinks.

And there it is, laid out before her, a schematic she doesn't know how to read. Maybe if she says it quickly, like tearing off a bandage, it'll hurt less.

"You've got my answer, but I'm not sure if the question's even still the same. I thought, from your letter-" she takes a deep breath, trying to stem the flow of her words. "I remember what you said, but that was years ago."

"Nine. Seriously? None of this-" he kisses her again, for emphasis- "convinced you I haven't changed my mind?"

Something in his tone, half-amused and half-indignant and so familiar, makes her smile. The wave of anxiety breaks and she can't help but tease him a little. "You might have just wanted me out of your system."

"Tried that," he says. "Tried that for years. Didn't work, obviously."

"Is that a bad thing?" The words come out a little muffled, caught between their lips in the narrowing spaces between one kiss and the next; she's rested enough, now, impulse driving her to accelerate the pace of things again, and to judge by the way she feels him stir against her belly he has, too.

"It made work pretty complicated. For this, though?" Theron's hands slide down her sides, under the edge of her shirt, fumbling at the clasp in the middle of her back. "I think complicated was worth it."

If that was really why he quit the SIS-

That's another very dangerous question. She files it away for later.

"Mm. I don't know." She pretends to consider even as she feels his fingers pop the hooks open, lifts her arms as he draws the last of her clothing off to join the messy heap behind them. "You're awfully overdressed. I'm not quite sure you've convinced me just yet."

"High standards- expensive and demanding? I'd better try harder-" teeth, sharp, on her earlobe, and the squeak of leather as he shifts his weight onto one foot, starting to work one boot off (their first time together he wasn't nearly so aggressive, but what he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm so she didn't care; it's hard to tell whether this, now, is confidence or liquid courage or just five years of pent-up frustration venting all at once but oh, she likes what he's become)- "next time."

Funny, she would have sworn a few minutes ago it was cold in here.

"Next time, hm?" The echo of his words take her back to Yavin for a moment; she turns the phrase back on him. "Not 'we'll probably never see each other again'?"

It takes him a moment to parse the reference, but when Theron laughs and pulls his shirt over his head she knows he's caught her meaning. "Not as long as you still need convincing."

"That may take a while. Just for thoroughness' sake, you understand." She finally works his trousers off, touch roaming rather more than strictly necessary. One ought to be thorough in these things.

"I waited for you for this long. I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to." Eyebrow arched, he looks her up and down; she does the same, appraising. Stars, he really did get better looking and the expression on his face-

It isn't fair, the way he looks at her.

"Bed," she says, and pivots, nudging him toward the door. "Now."

They don't actually quite make it there, though not for lack of trying.

By the time they make it through the medbay door they're wound around each other like dancers, tangled arms and legs and her hair worked free of its band to fall into her eyes and brush against his face; she's navigating from memory based on old heuristics. The captain's quarters are halfway across the ship from the medical bay, though, and whoever replaced the lounge furniture put it back (again) out of place, so she ends up backing him squarely into a long couch that should have been at least two meters to the right.

He yelps and tries to counterbalance but they're both still wobbly on their feet from the whiskey and with her momentum carrying them forward it's useless. With a thump he lands on the cushions, pulling her down with him until she's straddling his lap.

"Blasted-" She swears, moves to push herself back up to her feet. "This isn't supposed to be here."

Before she can right herself, though, Theron shifts beneath her, grip tightening on her hips, and just when she thinks he's about to speak he lowers his mouth to her breast. His tongue curls; she stops moving.

Couch. Bed.

Close enough.

He's ready for her again, pressed hard against her inner thigh as she kneels astride him; she adjusts, angling herself to catch him just so, exquisite pressure pushing deep as she sinks down to take him in completely. In this position, Theron sitting upright, she has to do nearly all the work but she doesn't mind, not with the way he curves in her and the friction of their skin, the heat of his breath and the keen edges of nails and teeth, and she grinds her hips in slow circles against him.

"I must be dreaming." She'll definitely have marks tomorrow, on her collarbones and along the swells of her breasts where his mouth is roaming. "How did you know what I-" he stops, shuddering, and she slows. "I imagined this, I swear. But you're here. You're real."

"Of course I am." She nudges his head up with hers- she wants to watch him, the way his eyes go unfocused when he's close, but she needs her hands to balance. "I dreamed about you, too, you know."

He goes utterly still.

Careful, slower, she starts to move on him again. "Your letter- you asked if I dreamed about you, the years I spent in carbonite. I did. Yavin. The shuttle." A few words for each time he pushes into her; she hasn't the breath left for more. "I remembered."

Theron's hand tightens in her hair, pulling her back into a delicate curve, his kisses like flames against the arch of her throat.

"For me it was more. Not just memories." His voice- oh, yes- "Things I wanted. You- always you- but so many things, even when I thought you were gone-"

When she closes her eyes for a second she pictures him, waking, taking himself in hand to the thought of her and oh, stars, what has she done? "And this dream? What do I do next?"

"I-" He bites his lip, tries to say something and stops, shakes his head, mute, blushing. "I wanted- I missed you so much-"

"I'm here now, darling. Tell me."

"I don't even know how-" he gasps with each roll of her hips, at the endearment that slipped from her tongue, unthinking- "Force help me, I'm terrible at this."

"Then don't say it." She pauses, poised above him even as he tries to lift up toward her, keeping herself just out of reach, lifting her right hand to sign a cant message just at eye height. Show me?

Theron nods.

She doesn't move until he starts to spell a message into the curve of her back. It's slow at first, hesitant, but when she lowers herself down until he's inside her again it picks up speed and she sets her pace by the rate of his fluttering fingers until-

"Oh, really?"

His smile is a wicked thing.

They're far too tired to go to bed.

Bed- the actual bed- is still down the corridor. That would require moving, and frankly she's not even sure that her legs work at this point and they're both exhausted, sated and sleepy and sprawled on the couch. Instead she stretches, settling onto her back and drawing him back into her arms, into a lazy kiss and then a second, a third, slow and sweet, and her eyes drift closed-

When she wakes to the sound of her chrono chiming he's still sleeping, head on her chest and arm draped across her belly, his breathing steady. Moving as little as possible, she wriggles her hand out from beneath him and lifts it to her face, squinting at the scrolling display.

message: meeting scheduled for 1030 postponed until tomorrow, same time and location. nothing urgent to report and i've got a scorching headache. will you tell theron? assume he's with you- LB.

(Of course Lana knew. Lana always knew.)

It's already nearly ten, sunlight slanting in through the viewports to illuminate the room, but with nowhere to be there's no reason to move. When was the last time she woke up to someone else still beside her? Eight or nine years, at least; with rare exceptions she'd made her excuses to old lovers, preferring to sleep safely alone. This feels different, though. Still safe, even undressed and unarmed.

Safer, maybe.

In repose he's relaxed, the tension lines in his forehead smoothed and his jaw unclenched. She runs her fingers idly through his hair, tracing the hardware at his temple with a pale fingertip against the darker tan of his skin- he must take after his father there, whoever he was- as her mind wanders back to things he wants and questions she oughtn't ask.

After another few minutes he stirs, murmuring contentedly, tilting his head into her touch.

"Theron?"

"Hey, you." He looks up at her, sleepy-eyed, and smiles. "Was I sleeping?"

She ruffles his hair. "It's alright. I was, too, and our morning meeting's apparently been cancelled on account of hangover."

"Oh, good." He presses a kiss against her ribs, just over her heart. "Moving sounds overrated right now, anyway."

"Mm. Can I ask you something?"

"'course."

She lets the words out with a breath, before she can second-guess herself. "Why'd you quit the SIS?"

Theron blinks. "That's a hell of a question."

"I know," she says. "Humor me?"

"You already know the answer, anyway, don't you?" He shifts, stretching, winding his arm tighter around her waist, as she shrugs. "You know Lana contacted me. We needed to-"

"But you might as well have been the Republic's poster boy." She's interrupting but can't help it, not in the face of a half-answer like that. "I teased you about defecting because I never thought in a thousand years you'd ever actually leave. Saresh must have been furious."

He tenses.

She sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- you don't have to answer if you'd rather not."

"It isn't that. Just- fucking Saresh." Theron rolls onto his back beside her and she shifts over to make room on the narrow cushion. "You know she had me on full travel ban for almost an entire year after Ziost?"

"I didn't know, though that explains why they never sent you after me."

He nods. "Yeah. That and I told Trant I was pretty sure you'd kill me if I tried-" she winces at that, both because she doesn't want to think about it and because it probably would have been true- "so he decided it wasn't worth the risk. By the time she let me off-planet the war had already started and you-"

"And I was a wall ornament."

"I thought you were dead." He's so quiet when he says it she turns her head to watch his mouth move, to read the words off the shape of his lips. "I thought you were dead, and I mourned you even when I shouldn't have, and I couldn't do anything about it. She denied every single mission I put forward, and the minute we surrendered to Arcann it was back to fighting the Empire. I couldn't…"

She waits for him to finish the thought.

"After everything we'd done against Revan, even the whole mess on Ziost with the Emperor- we could have worked together, us and the Imperials. It wouldn't have been you, but maybe we'd have managed something, maybe not. At least we'd have tried, you know?"

"And then Lana called."

"Three years to the day after Marr's ship went down." More awake now, Theron props himself up on one elbow, balanced between her body and the back of the couch. "When she told me you were still alive I didn't even have to think about it. Tendered my resignation, packed up my office and hopped a blockade runner off-planet. I kept enough connections in place to make the work easier, but as far as Saresh is concerned I'm persona non grata. Does that answer your question?"

She sighs. "Yes."

His face scrunched in confusion, he reaches out with his free hand to brush a strand of hair off her face. "That doesn't sound like you like what you heard."

"You quit because of me."

"I think I'd have quit eventually no matter what, but yeah. I quit because of you. Is that a bad thing?"

"I… no. It's-" she pauses for a moment to let her tongue catch up to her thoughts. "I just don't want you to regret it if it turns out this wasn't worth-"

He silences her, then, with two fingers pressed to her lips. "It was worth it. You could tell me to leave thirty seconds from now and it still would have been worth it. Just do me a favor, okay?"

"Hm?"

"Let me be the one to decide what I want." When he settles back again he slides his fingertips along the length of her mouth, across and around her jawline to the back of her head, pulls her with him until she curls against his side, into a long kiss that leaves no room to doubt what that might be.

By the time they, showered and dressed, make their way back down the path toward the barracks, it's nearly dark.