Veta blinked through a sudden haze of cigarette smoke, swiping away strands of damp hair from her face as she entered the bar. 'Rain's picking up like mad...guess I'm staying a while'. Shrugging out of her jacket, she scanned the room - finding them easily enough; tallest people in the room by a head or more, even while seated.
Kelly, Fred, and Linda, were sat at a table near the back, a couple of different shaped glasses in front of them. At least she wouldn't be the only one drinking. The trio were dressed casually, facing a stage at the distant end of the room, where a band was playing. They seemed engaged and content, albeit more restrained than the other patrons, as people danced and sang along. Regardless, it was still nice to see them this way.
Admittedly, she'd been surprised when Kelly had approached her about joining them tonight. They'd all been granted some limited shore leave while their current home, the Epoch-class heavy carrier UNSC Massive Roar, was docked in orbit for repairs. It certainly felt earned, though "down time" never actually implied freedom to distance from her work; just that she'd have more time to handle it.
After learning they weren't permitted to tag along, the Gammas hadn't reserved their irritation - a delightful trait they shared with average teens. Truthfully, she understood. They deserved an opportunity to unwind as much as anyone, but it wasn't her place to say otherwise this time. Beside the obvious legal issues, Kelly simply hadn't included them when she'd made the invite. She did, however, offer to talk to the kids later, and had apparently promised to regale them with 'stories' the next day; something they seemed to frequently enjoy from the older Spartans. In any case, it had worked, sending the three retreating to their room in relative peace.
The chosen venue was a well known place planetside, and was surprisingly larger than Veta had imagined - outdoor courtyard, large interior with a decent sized stage, at least two bars that she could immediately see, and an upstairs floor that ran in a ring around the room. An aged, cozy, wooden thing. The Sugarsweet was its name.
Looking back towards the Spartans, she couldn't help but appraise their apparent ease in what, she'd of guessed, was an atypical state and setting for them. Next time they ran a joint-op, it seemed it wouldn't be out of the question to suggest they'd a more embedded role. Granted, she'd have to coordinate their fashion options - all three were basically dressed in the same outfit; black PT gear, she guessed. Hoodies, t-shirts, joggers, and tennis shoes.
'Be nice. Probably the only informal clothing they own...'.
Kelly, always the energetic one of the trio, was casually dancing from the waist up in her seat; nodding her head, and drumming her hands against the table in time with the beat. With her relaxed smile and short pony tail swaying along, she looked positively approachable. It was almost easy to forget for a moment that she was two meters tall and a wall of muscle - almost. The shoulder of her sweater had a patch sewn into it - a white silhouette of a running rabbit. It was an interesting personal touch that would prove a good conversation piece if things got awkward.
Linda, to her credit, had a discernible smile visible at the edge of her lips, her short red hair looked recently trimmed, buzzed close at the nape of her neck. Even dressed down, she always carried an air of intensity, practically bending the shadows around her and, naturally, had chosen a seat with a corner of the room to her back. The woman was a cipher, but Veta loved a challenging personality.
And Fred.
Fred was sat with his back to her, and for the moment, she was happy for it - feeling a slight bit of heat across her face as she caught herself studying his well defined shoulders and back; features that were very hardly concealed by the heather grey t-shirt. 'The UNSC does produce some hard working shirts...', she shamelessly thought, getting in a few last appreciative glances before reigning it in. He seemed so at ease, bouncing a knee in time with the music.
As she got closer, weaving between staggered groups of people, she caught a better angle of him. Rather, her gaze drew over him appreciatively; shaking her head slowly at the sight of his tightened abdomen and waist - admittedly, probably her favorite part of his body, beside his face. Her eyes narrowed, and the bridge of her nose scrunched up as she berated herself for objectifying the man so severely...especially without his knowledge like this. He was so much more than a handsome face. Someday, maybe, she'd have the nerve to tell him she thought that. Doubtful, anyway, that appearances was something he actually cared about, but maybe if it were coming from her...
The way he looked at her had been changing for sure, and he was either terrible at concealing it, or wasn't trying to.
She exhaled sharp and tried to will the warmth out her face as she sidled behind a small crowd. There weren't any streaks of plasma or flying bullets here, but her pulse was picking up and she wondered if running to a restroom to splash a little cold water on her face might help.
To her luck, the restroom was empty, as she took stock of herself in the mirror - wearing her dark grey wool sweater - that little glaring pyramid over her left breast - hair still damp from the rain. She looked tired. The last couple of years had been a flurry; conducting alongside ONI personnel and Blue Team alike. She and her Ferrets had only very recently gotten their training wheels off, having been operating nigh on exclusively with a seasoned security detail at arm's reach. The Gammas had been embarrassingly vocal about it early on, but after nearly a year and a half, she was inclined to agree. The training timetable had felt overly cautious, and she'd seriously worried that Osman was having second thoughts about her. Finally, three months ago, the 'all clear' was given, and she'd been granted leadership autonomy. The advancement notation had been as flat and unceremonious as imaginable, but Veta had still felt a great deal of satisfaction. Her kids had celebrated by taking a holograph with her; it was off-angle, off center, and her eyes were closed, but the awkward capture still sat proudly on her tiny desk aboard their Prowler.
She laughed quietly to herself, 'my kids...', rolling her eyes.
Seeing Blue Team with such relative frequency was spoiling her on their companionship - even Linda had spared some amiable conversation with her now and then; that had felt like a real win. Kelly was a ball of thunder, always more opinionated and, honestly, hilarious. The woman had, quite early on, shattered the mould for whatever Veta had imagined Spartans to be. Fred too - Fred mostly - as he often smiled at her un-prompted these days. That had been a genuinely nice development; specifically after their initial meeting had been so fraught with distrust and unearned bitterness.
The last year had been particularly transformative, as she thought back on one long, recent, evening where he'd kept her company in her small office. He had just sat on the floor and talked with her all night about...anything. He had asked about her life on Gao, and if she'd ever had any pets - what her favorite hobby was, and if she liked things like sports or art or reading. He showed her how to draw some kind of bird by tracing her hand, and how to make another by folding pieces of paper. Eventually, he'd fallen asleep on her floor and was still there when she woke in the morning. It had been a remarkably intimate experience, whether he'd ever realized that or not; she smiled to herself.
She and Fred had grown very close. Certainly visibly enough to earn the heckling of her annoying mutant children. Before she'd left for the orbital elevator earlier in the evening, they'd brashly demanded she say hello to their "Dad" for them.'Snarky brats'.
Veta took a deep breathe, licked her lips, and brushed her hair out with her fingers as her brow furrowed. "It's been a little while, but...settle down", she whispered, leaning in toward her reflection and pressing her lips tightly together - she had nothing but friendship and respect for Kelly and Linda, and absolutely appreciated their companionship, but...she knew why she was really here; exactly what had drawn her out tonight.
With a sigh and a last look, she left the restroom, weaving her way toward the Spartans.
...
The band had been a happy accident, as she bounced along to the catchy rhythms. When she'd chosen this place, it'd primarily just been sound logistics - convenient proximity to the UNSC's motor pool, tucked at the base of the orbital elevator, mostly. Kelly took a sip of the mulled cider she'd been nursing and tried to think back to the last time she'd actually had alcohol; better yet, back to the last time she'd just completely unwound like this with Fred and Linda and-...her eyes paused over the two empty chairs at their table. Soon enough, one would be occupied, but the fifth...the fifth was empty, and it was the heaviest chair in the room.
He would have come along. Even if he'd thought it was too loud and too crowded - and he would have - but, John would've still wanted to be there with them. His family. His absence coloured everything. Maybe it was foolish optimism, but somehow she just knew he was still out there - somewhere. Fred and Linda felt certain as well, and it'd be strengthening to hear them say it. Every day, right after waking, she flips a coin - heads, they'd get their brother back; her best friend. Tails - same. She didn't consider for a moment that they'd never see John again, and didn't put her assurances in the fickle hands of fate.
Flipping the coin, his coin, just felt familiar, and gave her something to hold on too.
A smile quickly returned to her face when she noticed the diminutive inspector stepping through the crowd. The petite woman always moved like water, she thought. Unpredictable, and totally unimpeded. Currently, she was assessing her surroundings so completely, she was practically taking notes. 'Clock out, inspector'. Utilitarian as ever, still in work clothes, albeit untucked and unpolished - another thing Kelly really liked about her. For an ONI agent, she was about as forward, unpressed, and openly critical as anything - always a real treat seeing her brutal candor in full form, with some colourful swearing peppered in. It was exactly the sort of humanity the entire department was desperately missing out on.
There were visible rings under her eyes and hair that hadn't seen a proper comb in a couple days. 'Strong work, Lopis', her fixed smile holding back a bark of laughter. Stretching out a leg under the table, she gave Fred's chair a small kick, quickly gesturing toward Veta's approach with a sharp nod and a raise of her eyebrows.
When he turned to look, she shared a quick conspiratorial glance with the wolf at her side.
...
She'd actually come.
When Kelly had approached him earlier and told him they'd be going out, he'd been a little evasive, dodging behind familiar excuses - paperwork, sleep deprivation...pain, the usual. She'd briefly harangued him about embracing scant opportunities to unwind, and he'd been unable to create a strong argument; even Linda had acquiesced at that point, swaying him. He couldn't actually remember the last time they'd taken advantage of shore leave.
It hadn't been until they'd nearly touched planetside that the subject of Veta had been brought up; a whole lot of thinly veiled guile on his sisters' faces - both of them, which was the real kicker. Roping Linda into some kind of scheme didn't seem believable, and Kelly had assured him she was just happy they were getting out for a while. They knew he had a fondness for the inspector - he knew he did; unexplored and clumsy as those feelings were anyway. Mostly, it would have just been uncharacteristically inconsiderate that they'd potentially manipulate those feelings to get him away from his computer, even if the deception was well intentioned.
Despite it all, he was no less surprised. After all, just earlier that morning, he'd swung by her office to ask if she'd wanted coffee, and had wound up feeling like a nuisance for the scant minutes he'd occupied her time.
Fred caught her eyes and she smiled - tired, and a bit slow. With a small tilt of his head, he smiled back, standing and pulling out the empty chair to his right - nervous, a little too quick.
'Settle down...'
Easier imagined than done, with the way her hand momentarily rested against his lower back when stepping up to greet the table. He managed to stifle the jolt and mind his expression, but every muscle in his torso tightened, quickly taking his seat, only to immediately realize he'd inadvertently adjusted his chair much closer to her. Fred swallowed a sigh and rubbed his palms over his thighs.
'Settle. Down.'
...
The band had taken break. Linda leaned comfortably in her chair, listening to Kelly carry on with the inspector, asking about a somewhat recent tongue-lashing she and the Gammas had received, and whether or not Osman had ever found "the stick up her ass". Fred was definitely trying to appear casual, but there were just too many tells - bad posture with his forearms against the table edge, hands fiddling at anything within reach - her brother really thought he was being smooth right now, didn't he? Fred had a hard time concealing his feelings, and it had always been that way, ever since they were kids. Not that that'd been unique to him; in fact, a considerable number of Spartans had proven to enjoy the comforts and reinforcement of emotionally rooted behaviour, but chiefly amongst each other, which was where Fred diverged. He'd developed a habit, however clumsily implemented, of extending himself beyond the minimum or expected in social exercises with most anyone who approached him, despite that few if any ever felt the need to return that courtesy. John had commented once, about how he'd felt Fred would do reasonably well amongst civilians if need be. That he'd had more the appropriate "look" for it. Whether that'd been a statement regarding his image alone, or more the way he carried himself, she didn't quite know. What she did know however, was that Fred felt a lot - often times left worrying, endlessly, over mostly imagined consequences.
It was impossible to relate.
Granted, she did admire the patient grace at which he and others handled such an exhaustive burden. Fred, Kelly - Will, and Kurt. Sam. All warm personalities that endeavored to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Even John had his moments; his affable snap and snark could rival Kelly on a feisty day. Turning her attention across the table, she watched Veta happily chatting away with Fred, as he looked on, enraptured. Mostly, it was his playful posture that was putting an exclamation point on everything, still slightly bent forward, now resting his forearms on his thighs, with both hands clasped together between his knees. It was clear he had absolutely no armor against Veta Lopis, and if the inspector couldn't see that by now...
She watched as Veta easily reached over to lay a hand on Fred's arm, shaking her head and smiling; coyly looking up through her eyelashes. 'She knows...'
Linda rolled her eyes and shared a knowing glance with her grinning sister, who pursed her lips to hold back a snicker. 'Looks good. Pack it up? Leave them to it?', she mouthed, as Kelly slipped a hand under the table and slapped at Linda's leg, emptying her glass with a shake of her head and a poorly hidden grin.
Tipping her chair back to lean her head against the wall, Linda studied the thick wood beams crisscrossing the ceiling. She'd never been one for social gatherings, especially places like this; loud and crowded, too few points of egress, for sure, but...seeing her family so content like this, well...she wished there were more old faces at their table.
...
"I kept hailing him, 'Will! Will! Stop shaking your head 'round', just like that, literally yelling," Kelly leaned forward, propped on her elbows, "because, I mean - here we are, out in vacuum, and he's turning himself end over like a flapjack!". Veta looked on in amusement as the Spartan gestured wildly with her hands, "thank goodness we were tethered! Anyway, turns out the poor sod had vomited all over the inside of his helmet, and he was trying to clear his visor!".
"I remember that. All his effort bought him was repeat tragedy...", Linda smiled, shaking her head, "...the suit scrubbers were so overloaded they'd shorted, and the electrical disruption blew his temperature regs. By the time we recovered him back through the airlock, he was forming ice crystals in his mouth". Kelly slapped the table top, wiping a few tears from one eye as she howled in the most spirited mirth - Veta could absolutely understand why the Gammas adored her company so much.
The sound of Fred's cheerful laughter, one of his arms casually resting over the back of her chair, had her feeling the most content she'd been in months, even if she did find some of their 'happy' stories bordering on a little horrific.
"He was an excellent sport about it afterwards. And years later - when we never let him forget it". Fred's expression softened in a way that told her 'Will' probably wasn't around anymore to appreciate these fond memories.
The sudden scrape of chair legs broke up the conversation, as the Spartan women stood. "Be right back; just freshening these up", Kelly tapped a finger to the rim of her glass, as the two stepped around the table toward the bar behind them, and that's when he caught it. That laser beam look from Kelly said everything; lips pressed tight, eyes just fractionally narrowed, one hand patting his shoulder as she passed.
He knew that face, and heard her voice in his head, loud and clear as a shot - don't fuck it up.
Unfortunately, while the expression had been clear, the intent fell flat...until Veta's shoulder brushed his arm as she turned, and his eyebrows rose. 'Oh...'.
Message received.
There was an obvious sort of distress in his movement, as he quickly looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed, only to earn a far less subtle tight lipped grimace and stiff knife-handed gesture. Turning back, he found himself staring down a very curious, very determined, Veta Lopis.
"We going to talk about what that was?", there was a palpable amusement in her tone, hands flat on her thighs as she leaned forward and tilted her head, looking up through her lashes. "hm? Fred?", his posture stiffed and it siphoned the humor straight out of her. "Wait, what's-...is something wrong?". With one hand reaching for her glass, she rethought and pulled back, resting it in her lap instead as her smile faded watching his jaw tighten. "No.", he answered, quickly.
"Fred", she leaned toward him and light glimmered off the edge of her sight, as she shot an instinctive glance to the empty glass in front of him, "Look, I know you guys probably don't drink often, or come to places like this. If you don't feel well-",
"No.", he stopped her, raising a hand and sounding more assured, "No, I'm alright. It's not-", he laughed, though it seemed more sardonic than anything, "-it doesn't have anything to do with a single beer, Veta, I'm not a teenager having my first drink. It's not that at a-...all". His shoulders fell, knowing he'd slipped up the second the words left his lips. Veta raised a curious eyebrow and scoot her chair in again; her gaze was penetrating. "but, something is wrong...".
"This never shuts off, does it?", he vaguely gestured close her face and she reached up to swipe his hand away, smirking, "it doesn't. So, what's wrong?". Their hands were still touching and it did nothing to calm his nerves. He wondered if the diffuse lighting was enough to hide the warmth sneaking over his face as he looked at her playful expression and psyched himself up. 'No leading away, no backward steps...no backward steps...'.
With a thoughtful pause and a deep breath, Fred closed that last vestige of space between their chairs, his large frame pivoting more than a half turn toward her, and the adjustment seemed to immediately create a more private space between them. If that hadn't been enough for her to realize something important was about to happen, the softened expression on his face certainly hammered it home.
"Nothing is wrong," he shook his head,"and that's...it, I think". His admission took her off guard immediately, and despite the whirlpool of nerves swirling in his stomach, her quiet bewilderment seemed to offer an ounce of confidence.
"I'm just having a really good time with you, Veta - I always do, but tonight was special because there wasn't computers, or teenagers, or gunfire, in the way. Not that any of those things ever ruin anything, but th- wait, no. What?", his brow dropped, head rocking back in confusion, "no, that's stupid, gunfire can ruin- augh, the kids too sometimes-" his mouth shut tight, brow furrowed as he waved both hands in frustration and took another deep breath, licking his lips and attempting to reset his expression, "-I just...", she didn't want to blink - to breathe - so afraid of missing any single second of...this. Fred huffed a heavy breath, shoulders falling slack, shaking his head slowly, "...you...make me so happy, Veta. And, it seems my sisters have done their damnedest tonight to help me tell you that".
She was silent, brow crinkled, eyes wide, and lips slightly separated. His earlier thoughts about the ambient lighting coming full circle, as he very readily saw the pink flush of her skin. She was utterly frozen, searching his eyes, and he felt that streak of confidence rattle, fighting every urge to look away, relying instead on pure momentum, as he leaned in.
"So, even though- sorry, sorry, I know it's...I just, I'm going to keep talking, because if I stop now, I don't really, totally, know that I won't just get up and leave. I'm, uh...", he shrugged, "terrified, right now, but I want you to- I need you to know, how meaningful this all is to me. Not just this, all the times that you've spent with me. Chosen, to spend with me. Every time...", he raised both hands, palms defensively out,"forgive me if this is dramatic, but that is everything, Veta...". With another heavy exhale, both hands fell into his lap; voice lowering to a raspy whisper, "it is everything".
Veta was rigid, left uncomfortable and cold from sweating so profusely, and wracked with pangs of guilt and regret as she realized, in a panic, that she didn't know how to respond to this. Her heart cried out, betrayed, screaming all the right answers - desperate, and pleading - but all in a language she'd never learned.
When she didn't respond, looking so taken aback, his next instinct was to tighten his lips together, eyes narrowing...and focus on how to begin a comprehensive apology for grossly overstepping, and ambushing her.
Their intermission ending, the band began to play again, and Fred grit his teeth - he didn't know the song, but it didn't matter. He'd never be able to listen to it again anyway.
The jarring sound shook Veta loose, blinking her dry eyes as they stung, and biting into her lip, feeling immense frustration. Fred had just poured his heart out to her, and she'd buckled disastrously...worse yet, she now couldn't hear her own scrambling thoughts over the most ill-time band in the galaxy. She reached out instead, and with only the lightest touch to his arm, instantly commanded his full attention. Veta shook her head, raising her voice, "Fred. I'm...bad at this, but- but what you just said? That was beautiful". She flashed him a warm, consoling, smile, "please, don't let doubt eat at you because I'm an hot trash mess ". Veta raised a stiff index finger when she saw the protest on his face, "no. No, I'm a mess, Fred - just like you. We're disasters, be real, but...but, I'm so glad you didn't up and leave", she said, tightening her grip, "because you're the whole reason I'm here".
The sight of his expression lifting as she'd spoke was more intoxicating than anything stored behind the bar, as she rubbed small circles over his wrist, "If you left, all I'd have is liquor, and them", she nodded toward the stage, "hell, I could've stayed on the ship for cheap booze and noise. I am only here to be here with you".
He placed a hand over her's, and she paid extra attention to the overexcited way he glanced down and to the side, his tongue running along the bottom edge of his top teeth. The heat of his palm felt like a furnace and she soaked it up - feeling particularly relieved to know for certain that she wasn't the only one sweating too much.
Fred felt elated, offering a glance down to their joined hands at his wrist, and for a moment, was completely fixated. All the twisting concerns in Veta's chest were unraveling at the sight of his perfect contentment; a wash of delirious fulfillment practically radiating from him, as her heartbeat grew heavy in her chest, butterflies dancing furiously in her stomach, and the edges of her vision swam. This close, she couldn't help absorbing him - every scar, every line - pouring over them as though she hadn't already committed each detail to memory months ago. Less than a day since a shave, and he already had a shadow of dark stubble over his face. His jet black hair, maybe the longest she'd ever seen it, close to four centimetres, brushed forward, and those characteristic swaths of grey at his temples...she wanted to her run her hands back through it-
Fred rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, snapping her from her thoughts, and she swallowed, 'stop chasing your tail...', looking into his intense gaze and feeling her stomach fold over, 'this is definitely not just you...'.
Veta exhaled heavily, looking with annoyance around the loud room, forgetting in her flurry to properly moderate her voice, "we should get out of here...". Unable to hear her, or see her lips, Fred leaned and caught her eye, looking confused with a quick shake of his head as he mouthed the question 'what?' back at her.
Veta huffed in irritation and stood, putting herself at eye level with him, as Fred tilted his head and shot her a puzzled, slightly apprehensive, look. Without any hesitation, she quickly leaned toward him, intent for his ear, and there was no way to miss how roughly he flinched back from her. Veta gasped in surprise, almost immediately realizing her error, and felt her heart breaking at the sight of Fred becoming consumed in the most open expression of shamed regret.
"Oh. No. No, don't-", she grit her teeth behind a frown as both hands reached up toward his face, hesitating just inches away before curling her fingers back into her palms and lowering her arms to her sides.
She felt so stupid.
Training the Gammas to blend into civilian settings had more than exposed her to the absurd, and concerning, lack of actual social experience the three possessed. So many standard gestures went well over their heads; they'd argue with her about the practical relevance of behaviours like submission via 'saving face', or neutral accommodations, like sparing feelings using half-truths. It'd been especially difficult to explain the nuance of using the techniques - when it was, or was not, appropriate. The following week had been a nightmare escapade of dealing with three teenagers who, instead, just flat out lied to her every day. She'd managed damage control and they'd applied the correction, but it'd been a bizarre undertaking. These were quintessential skills that people learned and perfected during critical development stages - stages they'd missed - not in biweekly lectures. It was hardly more than a crash course in how to...be a person. Another vexing topic however, had been touch. People often used physical contact to emphasize a point, or earn attention; sometimes for no other reason than because people were messy. People were abrupt and assumptive.
Everything the kids did know about 'social touching' was essentially theoretical, lacking any practical application, and ultimately kept circling back to 'hard physical intimacy'. Listening to them it break down in their own words was like being subjected to an outdated Sex-Ed docuvid from an underfunded public high school.
It had taken a considerable amount of time, practice, and repetition for them to start adjusting to the often graceless, and intrusive, movements of average people. In the end, she'd learned just as important a lesson from them - that it was always just better to allow them to initiate.
Why would the S-IIs have been any different?
The sympathetic nervous system controls autonomic responses in the body, primarily responsible for the more widely known 'fight-or-flight' reactions.
Déjà had taught him that in a classroom back on Reach when he was young. Fight-or-flight.
Without hesitation, he's leapt from Pelicans caught in explosive tailspin, ejected himself into vacuum, played chicken with Mgalekgolo fusion cannons...always 'fight' - he could count the number of times he'd balked at anything on a single hand.
Yet, Veta had leaned her face not six inches toward him and he'd buckled like an aluminum can.
It almost physically hurt to see her this way, so uneasy, and radiating undeserved guilt; worse still, that it seemed at least, like she felt she'd earned it. This was his fault. Veta dropped back into her seat and sighed - he couldn't hear it, so much as see the gesture through her whole body.
He couldn't hear her. Fred sighed deeply. Because of the music... it was loud, and she was just- the weight of realization hit him, rolling his eyes and flexing his jaw in embarrassed frustration.
He felt so stupid.
Fred shot a desperate glance in the direction that Kelly and Linda had left in, and seeing no sign of the women, instead began focusing too keenly on the noise of the room. He was feeling overwhelmed - by the volume, by the crowds...the emotional exhaustion; both hands curled to loose fists in his lap, and he knew then that he wanted to leave.
This time: flight.
When Fred made to stand, Veta held her ground, mindful, but assertive, laying a firm hand over his knee, and was relieved when he froze.
'No more mistakes. No confusing movements…be clear...'
Pointing toward the exit, Veta raised her brows and was relieved when he quickly nodded and stood, letting her lead him out into the waiting storm.
In her haste, she'd forgotten about both her coat and the snarling downpour, nearly jumping out of her skin as Fred dropped his hoodie over her shoulders. The jacket was comically oversized on her, but the warmth of the material, and a strong unwillingness to look any longer at the dejected expression on his face, stopped her from refusing; reaching bruskly for his hand instead, and venturing out into the crowded parking lot.
After several, frazzled, minutes of searching through a sea of similar black SUVs, the doors slammed shut and Veta exhaled a frustrated sigh, running her hands back through drenched, wind torn hair when she turned to face him. They'd gotten into the back seat after discovering he was just too tall for the passenger side - both soaked to the bone, and he still only just fit.
Fred offered her a tired, questioning look, water still dripping down his face...
...and she burst into exuberant laughter.
'Is this a dream?...'
Fred leaned forward, lowering his head to get a better look at Veta, feeling confused, but no less delighted, as he steadily broke into a broad smile and gave in to her contagious laughter. Minutes ago they'd been lost in a veritable tumult; the entire, taxing, situation had rolled through like a hurricane. Revelations, admissions, fears, joy - immense joy - and spiraling, painful, discomfort. It was all a fantastic mess that'd left him feeling dazed, as his heart still raced out of control. Veta was practically in tears next to him...a wet, tangled, mess. This was definitely the most disheveled he'd seen her before, counting the four days they'd spent crawling through caves on Gao, and the muddied mine shafts of Meridian, and...she was stunning - unbelievably beautiful.
When she haplessly flopped over and pressed herself tight against his side, he draped an arm over her and tucked her in close while their laughter tapered off into a breathy, comfortable, silence. Fred lowered his forehead to the top of her head and sighed into her wet hair as she wiped at her eyes. "Damn, you're right...we are disasters". When she nodded and relaxed her full weight against him, he bit his lip until it hurt.
'no...not a dream...'
Veta kept her eyes closed, cuddling into his sweater, and reveled in his warmth as it staved off her shivering. The muffled roar of the pouring rain against the vehicle, in contrast to his soft and even breathing just above her, had her feeling weightless; his thumb rubbing gentle circles into her side. Inhaling, she breathed deeply of the scent of him for the first real time, absolutely surrounded in it; a heady mixture of something citrus and woody, with the sharpness of gun oil. The comfort, and exhilaration it brought on...they've shared hugs, sat with one another, but she'd never been close like this with him before - another first that she hoped to everything wouldn't also be a last - she cleared her throat.
"Fred, I'm so sorry". Veta curled her fingers back into the long sleeves, and took care to speak lightly. "I shouldn't have bluntly moved in on you like that. It was careless".
"Don't apologize. I misread the situation, and...", she felt him shaking his head slowly, "...and I fell apart like sand".
Veta licked her lips and exhaled slow, trying to push closer into him, when he tugged her across those last few inches to let her rub her forehead into his shirt.
"We both did...", she slipped her arms around his waist, inhaling heavily again - he didn't miss it, running the fingertips of his free hand, feather light, just over her elbow. He'd often imagined being able to hold her like this...
"You?", he asked, humor in his voice, "no...", laughing quietly, and rubbing his cheek against her hair. "Nothing rattles you, Veta".
He felt her grip tighten onto the back of his shirt, "...you do", she whispered, muffled against his chest, feeling his next breath shiver.
"Have you ever kissed anyone, Fred?", she could hardly hear herself over the pounding of both of their hearts in her ears.
"No", the rumble of his voice vibrated against her cheek, and she felt a little laugh before she heard it, "but, I definitely thought I was about to". He scoffed, "not my finest hour".
She fidgeted with his shirt, gathering her voice, "there's still time", she whispered without hesitation, pulling her cheek from his chest, "if you wanted, I mean", she bit at the inside of her cheek, "I would...like to". He felt so still; chancing a look up, her breath caught at the yearning desire she found in his deep green-blue gaze, and she swallowed hard.
"What do I do?", he said in a low, breathy, rasp; chills pouring over her skin at the sound of it. She leaned her head back and he watched her, mesmerized.
"Close your eyes...".
Veta lifted one hand, winding cold wet fingers around the back of his neck, watching his eyes close, and feeling the short hair at his nape stand on end. Gently guiding him down, Veta leaned up to meet him, and softly brought their lips together, lavishing in the sensation of their last, shared, shaking breath, and the shy tremble of his lips as they'd touched. Mouths closed, chaste and unpracticed; the tightening of his grip around her met the innocent sweetness of the kiss and had her smiling into his mouth.
Her fingers caressed the back of his neck, and Fred gasped just enough to separate them, quickly pressing their foreheads together and winding his other arm around her; her own grasp on him becoming all but possessive, drawing him in again, and this time, he took her mouth fiercely. All the quiet shyness of their first kiss melting into something deeper - more insistent - as they moved against each other. Veta parted her lips to breathe heavily, and he followed her movements - letting her teach him. Veta's tongue glided over his bottom lip and he shuddered, feeling a hand slide up beneath his shirt, nails scraping over his back. Fred sighed a low, deep, purr into her mouth, as they steadily consumed each other - the urgency in the sounds he made had her light-headed, both clumsily trying to reposition in the limited space. Fred's back hit the door, and Veta crawled up, sitting back on her calves as she straddled his lap and looped her arms over his neck, losing her senses at the gentle roll of his hips, one of his hands running down over the side of her thigh.
When her tongue moved past his lips and ran along his, he swayed his hips into her again and spoke her name out against her lips like a benediction. It was too much - stars and specs of light blooming behind her eyelids - Veta pulled her mouth away, instead pressing a line of kisses down over his jaw and neck, before tucking her face against his collar and running her tongue over his hot skin. Fred tensed hard, growling out a throaty moan, curling his fingers into her, as he endeavored to wrap as much of himself around her as he could, hearing her gasping breath in his ear as she reluctantly leaned back, brushing one last soft kiss over his lips before looking down over his flushed face, sure she was just as heated.
Neither spoke, his chest rising and falling quickly as he looked up into her hooded gaze, her lips slightly swollen; the way she licked them slowly, looking down deeply into his eyes - it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen, and it was driving him to the brink of shattering.
Veta pressed her forehead to his and he breathed deeply, loving the way she smelled - always spiced like cinnamon and, now, something different as well - sweeter...he couldn't place it, but it had his head swimming. The taste of her still on his lips, the weight of her body in his lap as she rocked her hips slowly - he tensed again, gently grasping her waist to still her.
"This all a part of kissing?", he hardly managed a cracked whisper, her lips brushing over his eyebrow. "Sometimes", she said, kissing the bridge of his nose. "Oh. I've uh...been wrong- about a lot of things, I think...", he smiled as she nuzzled her nose against his cheek, the slight roughness of his stubble tickling her, but she couldn't stop herself. Veta had never felt so exhilarated or seduced, so deeply in wanting for anyone before. He pressed a small kiss to her jaw and she sighed; if not for what flimsy control they'd both had, there was little doubt in her mind she'd be teaching him about more than just making out. The thought alone resonated heavy in her mind, as she lifted a hand to his cheek; it was so much more than just the implication of sex. The notion of wanting, yearning for, that closeness with him was what she felt taken with, watching his eyes close as she slid her palm back and he leaned into her touch. She supposed it shouldn't be surprising. Her relationship with Fred was built on a mutual foundation of friendship, of trust - of safety. It still felt startling, though for the first time - another first - it didn't bleed her heart, but filled it.
Never any warning voices in the back of her mind...no urge to fight or flee; her fingers moving up into the grey hair at his temple, carding back into the jet black just above it - soft as she'd imagined. She repositioned as he leaned back some, sitting herself sideways and resting her weight on him, curling in close, as he wrapped her up again in his arms. Veta buried her face in his collar.
Truthfully, she didn't think either of them were ready for that step - maybe not for a while yet - but that she'd conceived of it at all just meant the world.
"Oh. By the way...", she said, smirking as she nuzzled her nose just under his ear, "...the Gammas wanted me to say hello to their 'Dad' for them". His quick, comfortable, huff of laughter had her feeling light as air.
...
"Can you actually see them? What's happening? They're not arguing are they? It was looking pretty gloomy there for a bit..." Kelly swiped at the rain running down her face and leaned in closer to Linda, squinting and trying to match her line of sight. While her distance vision was unarguably superior to the average person, augmented sight only provided so many advantages; she couldn't compete with the survey scope Linda held.
"Yes. I can see them". Linda's brusque tone making it clear she wouldn't be addressing Kelly's other questions, as she mechanically lowered the scope, folding it shut and slipping it into the front pocket of her sweater. She faced Kelly with an odd, stiff, expression, before whipping her bangs from her forehead, pointing a finger downward, and standing. Kelly attempted a last look, squinting out over the parking lot before heading after Linda.
When the pair had spied Fred and Veta quickly exiting the bar, they'd made for the roof, kneeling alongside a large water tank with only limited top cover.
Following through the roof's service door, Kelly passed Linda on the steps and turned, taking the stairwell backward.
"Okay, and? I'm going to need you to be a little more specific. Why are we leaving? I didn't see them coming back inside. You know this whole thing was for-"
"They were being romantic", Linda interrupted, pausing briefly to emphasize the point, before continuing to descend, "I am not sitting on a roof, out in the rain, to watch my brother be intimate with someone". Kelly stood in place as Linda passed her, a flash of surprise quickly giving way to a delighted smile, as she pumped a triumphant fist in the air and went for the commpad in her pocket. The hastily tapped out message was short, but she felt it proper, laughing to herself as she hit send and started after Linda, taking the steps two at a time.
This called for another drink.
...
The diminutive 'bleep' from the commpad rang out like a klaxon in the bored silence of the Ferret's bunk room, and instantly there was a flurry of activity.
"Is it her?"
"Open it, 'O!"
Ash and Mark practically fell off the top bunks, clambering messily into Olivia's cot. "I'm doing it, you animals; relax!". The two boys dog piled her as all three gathered tightly around the small glowing screen in her hand.
She quickly tapped at a message, cartoonishly titled 'ToP SeCrEt', flanked by the tiny image of an excitedly winking bunny -
-Nailed it. /