Posting quicker than anticipated. When I write, I binge-write ... ;) Also, this is going to be five chapters and done with a semi-resolution, then pick up with a sequel. It just seems like it will work better.

On we go. Short chapter this time.

xxx

I'm bad behavior, but I do it in the best way ...

xxx

He couldn't wait to get away.

The very air had felt thick with expectation, and he's not sure what to do with that. Too much ability to be hurt, there. Too much ability to hurt.

"When we get back, would you care to stick together for a while?"

What had she been thinking, saying that?

His thoughts are going around in circles as he paces the ship. (There's the spot where Mick had her pinned, there's the corridor where he'd called her 'assassin' the first time ...)

Was she referring to a simple partnership, something like what he'd had with Mick? (He shies away from that notion, for more than one reason.) Something ... more, albeit with no commitment to it? Or something more complicated, with even more potential for pain?

He has no idea.

They've flirted; oh, they've flirted. He doesn't think he's fooling himself to say there's been more there, just under the surface, both a fairly intense attraction and a fundamental mutual understanding. But it's not something they've ever acted on.

Goddamn it. This is why he avoids emotions.

He's all too aware, right now, that he may have been offered two things he wants ... badly wants ... on a silver platter.

One, to his own surprise, is the Waverider. The job, the challenge, the future that Hunter just dangled before them. It seems a fitting way to ... make amends ... for certain mistakes in his life, and somewhere inside, he admits that this ship has become the next best thing to a home over the past two years.

And he likes a good challenge. Being a crook, even a very, very good one, doesn't seem like it offers much after what he's been doing.

The other, of course, is her.

That's the first time he's ever admitted it to himself in any real capacity.

He stops dead in his tracks, then stalks irritably back to his room, avoiding any section of the ship where one of the others might be.

Only to find her sitting there, waiting for him.

He doesn't have more than a moment to wonder how she got Gideon to let her in when she stands, crosses her arms, and looks at him.

OK, so he's a sucker for that "I could kill you with my pinkie" glare.

"Really, we just need to agree on one thing now," she says without preamble. "Do you want to take this ... job ... Hunter is offering? Because I do. And don't really want to do it without you."

He stares at her for a long moment. And then he manages a single nod.

Sara smiles. And she crosses the room, stopping very purposefully just inside his comfort zone. It is, frankly, all he can do not to run. He narrows his eyes. It doesn't fool her.

"Beyond that," she says, almost whispers, "well, I figure we have a few options. We can be partners. Friends. I mean, we've managed it for the past two years. We could both do worse than kicking ass together across time, right?"

She doesn't let him answer, though, but moves imperceptibly further into his space. "Or ... we could try a sort of ... friends with benefits situation. I figure we could both do worse than that, too. It's been ... a very long two years, after all."

No, he's definitely not breathing. And she's just a little bit closer.

"Or ... we could go for more. Now, I'm not quite sure what I want to call that, and I don't think you are either, but maybe it's something we should talk about.

"Think about it."

And she's out the door, giving him his space back, albeit with an awful lot of things to think about.

He decides he needs a shower. A very, very cold one.