(Author's Note: Prompt: finding the other wearing their clothes. Nine/Theron.)

It Looks Good on You

I.

The holo's ringing.

Nine opens her eyes, extracting herself carefully from beneath Theron's arm; he's sprawled out with his face half-smushed against the pillow and his arm draped over her belly, and as she squirms free he mutters something incoherent.

"Shh," she murmurs. "Go back to sleep."

"'kay." He shifts onto his side and after a moment he's asleep again, his breathing regular.

Stars, what time is it? They're halfway to Belsavis on the 'shrike and with nothing to do beyond travel and the occasional meeting their sleep schedule's completely off-kilter; the clock on the holo reads 0830, which is as likely to be correct as not, and the display says it's Lana calling-

She probably ought to put on clothes. A shirt, at minimum.

(Lana's more or less used to her general disregard for clothing, at this point- after sharing a tent on Yavin and her having tended to her injuries after Asylum, especially, she's pretty sure she could answer the holo stark naked and merit no more than a raised eyebrow.

The last time she called, though, she'd had Koth with her. That'd be rather awkward.)

Her clothes are- hm. She looks around as the holo keeps ringing, trying to backtrack through possible trajectories. Her underwear is… somewhere, and her shirt ended up-

-dangling off the pilot's chair on the bridge, probably, which does her not a single bit of good at the moment. Theron's shirt's on the floor at the foot of the bed, though, and she slips it over her head and tugs it down until it just skims the top of her thighs. Looking down, the neck's a bit stretched- this T-shirt must be a dozen years old at least, a souvenir of a concert by a band she's never heard of; she's not convinced, between this and his jacket, that he ever gets rid of clothing- and there's a hole in one of the sleeves. Mostly decent, in any case. Good enough.

Still, she sits down at her desk to answer the call.

"I won't keep you," Lana says drolly, glance flickering between her sleep-mussed hair and the Theron-shaped blanket lump on the bed behind her. "I just wanted to let you know I've sent the schematics over, but we can review them whenever you're both awake."

"I'll- excuse me-" she yawns- "I'll take a look at them shortly. What's your schedule today?"

"Only the usual. Call when you're ready, though I might suggest trousers if we're patching the Belsavis ground team in."

Possibly she was not sitting quite as close to the desk as she thought. "Duly noted."

When the holo clicks off she turns to the terminal beside it and spends a few minutes glancing through the transmitted files- mostly diagrams, as advertised. These can wait until later. Standing, she yawns once more, stretching her arms overhead with her hands interlaced; her knuckles crack satisfyingly, almost drowning out a very faint whistle coming from behind her as she looks back over her shoulder in amusement.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

Theron, still sleepy-eyed but propping himself up on the pillow, grins as she stretches again- a little further this time, letting the shirt ride up and arching her back for good measure- and this time she can hear his whistle properly. "There- better? Come back to bed."

"Rather. See something you like?" Laughing, she makes her way back across the little cabin to the bed, fingers on the hem ready to lift the shirt over her head. She's only got it halfway off when he leans forward, though, wraps both hands around her wrists and pushes her hands down.

"Normally I'd say it'd look even better on the floor, but-" arms around her waist, now, he pulls her in, her feet lifting off the ground as he slips out from beneath the bedclothes- "I think I like it more on you. We don't have to get up yet, do we?"

"No," she says, settling astride- oh- "we've got plenty of time."

II.

"How," he says, "does this thing even stay on?"

She peers behind her in the mirror where she's touching up her makeup. Theron's standing in the middle of the room, the top of the dancing costume she'd just changed out of dangling around his neck. "Magic. Stars, I'm way too old for this shit."

"Seriously. Between this and the bottom bit, I don't get how things don't just-" he gestures. "Except they don't, obviously. I think I would have noticed."

Blotting her lipstick, she turns. "Honestly, it's half fit and half double-sided tape."

"Tape? Ow."

She's still got a strip stuck on her right breast, actually, and peels it off. "Beauty is pain. Especially in those shoes."

"They can't be that bad." As she pulls the next costume off the rack, mentally cursing Sia'hla all the while- how did she let her talk her into this, again?- he grins and stoops, pulling off one boot. "I bet you I can walk in them."

"They're far too small for you." She pulls the bodysuit up and slips her arms into the straps, even as he gets his other boot off and wedges his toes into one of the shoes. "And I need them in a moment. Give them here."

He manages a few steps, surprisingly skillfully, before he stumbles and braces himself against the dressing-table. "I take it back. These are torture devices."

"Your ass looks great, though."

"It kind of does, doesn't it?" Looking into the mirror, he considers.

She grins. "Mm-hm. Now-" she says, accompanying the words with a swift flick of her fingers as he yelps- "give me back my shoes."

III.

"How's Hoth?"

"Cold," Theron says as his image flickers, "and snowy. The usual, more or less. I will admit the parka's helping."

He's still got the hood up, snowflakes melting off his eyelashes, despite the roar of the little space heater beside him- their safehouse on Hoth was rudimentary at best but at least it was cozy; she grins. "I told you so. It's been cold here, too. We had to burn your jacket for warmth."

Eyes narrowed, he makes a face at her. "Not funny."

"It misses you, by the way. I took it out for some bonding time earlier- it was looking terribly lonely."

Theron snorts. "Here I sit, frostbitten, duly be-parka'ed, and you mock me. Keep that up and the pirates may end up hanging onto all those fuel cells."

"I'm not mocking you, I'm teasing you. I even took pictures." With a wink, she taps on her datapad, sending the images she'd queued up earlier (after double-checking that the channel's secure). "Here. You can see for yourself."

As they load he flips through them, one by one. "If you've got this much free time, you can do my reports- yeah, my jacket definitely had a better day than I did. Cup of proper caf-" the first image, carefully staged, one sleeve threaded through a mug handle; honestly, she'd just been missing him when she woke up today and his cup on the tabletop and his jacket hanging in the closet gave her an idea- "leisurely walk around the base-" the second, Lana and Koth in the background, bowed over in laughter- "some quality time with you-"

"It's very comfortable, actually. I do see why you like it so much."

"It looks good on you- hang on a- hello." He raises an eyebrow as he reaches the last image, grinning broadly. "I may need to have a word or two with it when I get back."

"As I said," she purrs, "very comfortable. Lovely on bare skin."

Theron shakes his head, still grinning- and saves the image, she notices. "Breach of protocol. If that happens again, I'll have to confiscate it off you."

"I'd expect no less. It's getting awfully forward in your absence, though. By the time you come home, you may have to pry it off me." The image flickers again; the signal off Hoth was always touchy, particularly when it was storming. "I miss you, you know."

"I know. I miss you, too."

"Be careful, okay?"

He smiles as she presses two fingers to her lips and then to the holo's camera. "Always."