#I really could talk more about how abby ghosting him and ali leaving after he got hurt did a number on him

[tellmegoodbye]

I grow fonder of Buck and Tommy as a ship with each episode. There's a reason this relationship feels much more raw and real as compared to all the others, even in such a short amount of time, and I think it's because of the way Tommy was introduced to Buck.

Starting with Abby, she was enamored by Buck when she saw him on the news talking about his job. Same goes for Ali, Taylor and Natalia, who were all people he met on calls. One thing all of his exes have in common is that their first impression of Buck was "heroic firefighter" and that was part of what initially attracted them.

This didn't happen with Tommy. Sure, their first interactions are in the helicopter, but everyone is in the same boat there, and they had more important things to worry about. It's when we actually see them interact for the first time in 7x04, and the first version of Buck Tommy is exposed to is Jealous Buck. That doesn't scare him off. Then, in 7x05 the date doesn't go well and he's met with Oblivious Buck, but that doesn't scare him off either. In fact, he calls him adorable! Finally, in 7x06 he is exposed to Clipboard Buck, Bachelor Party Edition, and still he isn't scared off. He even stays with Buck until he has to go to work. He also makes it a point to go to him immediately as he's done. Not even stopping to shower.

All of this is to say that Tommy has been introduced very quickly to many different versions of Buck. Through all of it, he remains gentle, patient, and understanding. Partly because he's just a good guy, but also because he is really fucking into Buck. And he's not just attracted to him when he's at his best, but he likes ALL of him.

In conclusion, my reasons for liking Tommy for Buck go way beyond the fact that it's finally a guy that he's dating. While that is important for Buck's own understanding of himself, I think it's even more important for him to have someone who likes him for who he is. This is something Buck has been needing since season 1, probably since Abby left and did a number on his self-esteem, and he finally has it.

[inawickedlittletown]

I’m With You (1/?)

Summary: 

Having a crush was nothing to be ashamed of...lying to the family and friends of said crush about being the guy’s boyfriend, that was a whole other problem. When Buck saves the life of Andrew Diaz and accidentally makes a nurse think that he’s Andrew’s boyfriend, Buck soon finds himself lying to Andrew’s firefighter friends/coworkers as well as Andrew’s family including Andrew’s very suspicious and attractive brother, Eddie.

Based on the 1995 movie While You Were Sleeping.

Words: 4,050

Notes: Hello. I am back with another fic. This is based on one of my favorite rom coms: While You Were Sleeping (1995). I was watching it a few weeks back and I just wanted a Buddie version of it. Anyone that hasn't seen it: go watch it immediately, it's a classic. Rom coms are not made like they used to be. 

The fic title comes from the song of the same name by Vance Joy. Listen to it, it is perfect. Enjoy. :)

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

-

Coffee Time was always busy at three very specific times of the day. In the morning from opening at 6am until around 9am and then 12pm to around 1pm and then after 5pm until just after 7pm. The rest of the day was full of the odd person stopping in for a quick snack or drink and they often got a few people that loitered and sat at tables by the windows with their notebooks or laptops. Buck worked the morning shift going in at 5am to get everything ready for opening and leaving just after their lunch rush and it meant that Buck was there when Mr. Perfect arrived for his usual order : two black regular, one mocha latte, one iced green tea no sugar, and a regular latte. 

Mr. Perfect arrived for the lunch rush which meant that there was never any real time for idle chat. He also always placed his order online for pick up and there was never a name attached. Just the order number. Buck was always the one to fill it and as tempting as it was to add his number to one of the cups, he also had no idea if Mr. Perfect was interested in men and which of the cups in the order was his. So, he never did. Instead, he admired from afar. It felt like the easiest thing to do. 

It was busier than usual on a Thursday probably due to some event happening down the street. It meant that they had people coming in and out in what seemed like a stream and Buck was getting behind on filling orders. So much so that he failed to get Mr. Perfect’s order ready before he arrived like usual. 

Mr. Perfect busied himself with his phone while he waited and didn’t seem too bothered at the wait or how crowded the place was and it gave Buck a few moments to admire him. He was broad and muscular and his shirt seemed to be just a little tight on him but Buck didn’t mind the way that it helped to make his biceps look big. The logo on the corner of his chest suggested that Mr. Perfect was a firefighter but Buck wasn’t entirely sure if that was his profession. But what really captivated Buck was the way he always smiled when he was picking up his order like he genuinely meant it. His eyes crinkled and they were so warm and dark and Buck loved them. It always left him feeling a bit distracted after Mr. Perfect walked away. He had that kind of affect on Buck and Buck knew that he would never really talk to him. 

“One day, I want you to form sentences and speak to him,” his coworker, Ali, said, nudging him and passing on a marked cup for the current customer in line. 

“Or never,” Buck said with a sigh. 

The thing was that Buck wasn’t a shy person. And he definitely wasn’t shy about flirting or about getting someone to hook up with him. At least, that was who he used to be. But ever since his girlfriend, Abby, went off on a trip to Ireland and then ghosted him, Buck just didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t think he wanted to go back to quick hook ups and one-night stands that left him feeling used and empty and yet he also wasn’t sure if he wanted to find someone to actually date. And Mr. Perfect — if Buck even had a chance with him — he was the kind that you wanted to date and fall in love with and marry and have a family with. 

When Buck had finally got around to getting Mr. Perfect’s order ready, he set it down on the pick up counter and called out his order number. Mr. Perfect looked up from his phone at once and walked over, his lips turning up into a full toothed smile. His eyes found Buck and for a second Buck wondered if he should try and talk to him but then the moment passed. 

“Thank you,” Mr. Perfect said and then dropped a few dollars into the tip jar. 

“Have a good day,” Buck managed before letting out a sigh. 

The next day, Mr. Perfect didn’t appear at his usual time and Buck pretended to be annoyed when Ali made fun of him for it but deep down he was a little sad about it. That he looked forward to seeing the same stranger at work more than any other part of his day should have been concerning, but Buck really didn’t have much else going for him. 

When the lunch rush died down Buck took off his apron and walked into the back to clock out. From the closet he grabbed his things and he walked back out. He was waving goodbye at Ali, when he saw Mr. Perfect walk in and Buck actually stopped to watch him as Ali got his order to him. Ali shrugged at Buck when she caught his eye but Buck was mostly just glad to see him. 

Buck made it out the door before Mr. Perfect turned away from the counter with his order, but he lingered outside looking in through the window like a creep before he shook his head at himself and started heading towards his car. He was so utterly pathetic. Buck hadn’t made it far when he heard someone yell out. When he turned, he realized that it was Mr. Perfect. 

At first Buck didn’t spot him and he couldn’t have if it wasn’t for the cup of spilled coffee that had rolled away from him. All of the drinks were spilled on him and around him and he was several feet off of the sidewalk on his back and not moving. Buck ran to his side. 

“Hey! Hey!” Buck yelled as he reached him but there was no response. 

Buck checked his pulse at once and let out a breath when there was one. He put his hand out by his nose to check if he was breathing and felt a few puffs of air. That was good. He was breathing and he had a pulse. 

“Okay. Okay. So what next. Can you hear me?” 

Buck tried shaking him a little but Mr. Perfect didn’t react. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around either so Buck fished his phone out of his pocket and he dialed 9-1-1. He was just in the middle of trying to explain what happened to the operator when Buck realized that they were on the street and that while the street had been empty for a while, a car was coming their way and not stopping. The driver couldn’t see them. 

“Holy shit,” Buck said and he scrambled to his feet, grabbing Mr. Perfect by the armpits and pulling. 

He was heavy and it was a bit difficult to maneuver a fully grown man but Buck was strong and somehow he managed to get him to the bike lane mere seconds before the car drove right over where Mr. Perfect had been lying. Buck let out a breath. 

“Oh my god,” he said. “That...that just happened.” 

Buck knew he should have felt scared but instead he felt energetic and like he could do anything at all. 

“Hello! Hello, what’s happening?” 

His phone was on Mr. Perfect’s chest and luckily it hadn’t fallen off while Buck was pulling him to safety. He grabbed it, then. 

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just he was on the street. I pulled him out of the way. Car was coming. He’s still not awake. I don’t—”

“Sir, an ambulance is on the way. You said he’s breathing and has a pulse?” 

“Yes. Yes. Looks like maybe he hit his head.” 

Having moved him meant that Mr. Perfect’s head had lolled a bit and Buck could see that there was a growing lump. Buck also noticed that Mr. Perfect’s wallet was sticking out of his pocket and he figured he should grab it and get his name. The operator had asked for it at first but Buck didn’t know it. He literally knew nothing about him. 

His license was right there at the top and Buck pulled it out. His name was Andrew Diaz.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur but he remembered being able to tell the operator Mr. Perfect’s name and age (he was 29). He followed the operator’s instructions and then waited. A few people had stopped by to ask what was going on and if they could help but there was nothing to do but wait. Buck just had to keep making sure that he was breathing. 

With Mr. Perfect — Andrew — out cold, Buck could really get to look at him without the danger of awkwardness if he was caught doing it. Andrew had long eyelashes that fanned out over the top of his cheeks. His hair looked curlier up close, a bit of a wave going through it. His lips were a nice rosy pink and just a bit chapped and Buck wished more than anything to be able to kiss him. There was a slight cleft to his chin and Buck could make out laugh lines next to his eyes and by his mouth. Up close, Buck could also make out a few freckles across his nose, not easy to notice on his skin tone. 

Buck almost didn’t hear the ambulance arrive due to how distracted he was especially when he noted that Andrew had a small scar on his jaw. It made Buck curious. 

Buck only got up when one of the paramedics touched his shoulder so he could get out of their way. He stood back and watched with a bit of fascination as they got a collar on him and then put him on a stretcher. They seemed to do a whole number of tests before they loaded him up but even then the whole thing was rather quick. 

“Is he — is he going to be okay?” Buck asked. 

“Just fine,” one of them said and then, “are you coming along?”

Buck was supposed to be just a bystander, a stranger with a crush that just happened to be the only person to see Mr. Perfect splayed out on the asphalt. He was the guy that helped out because he happened to be there but the way that the paramedic was looking at him like he was supposed to be more than that. 

“Uh...what hospital? I — my car is here. I can just drive there.” 

Buck had no idea why he said it or why he didn’t clear up that he was no one to Andrew but the guy that made him his coffee every day. After he had the information, Buck felt weird not going to the hospital to at least find out if Andrew would be okay. Maybe he felt a little weird about going too. It was for his own peace of mind and either way, Andrew didn’t have anyone else at the moment and Buck figured he should go and be there and maybe even wait it out until his family got there. Even as he tried to rationalize it, the whole thing felt stupid. 

When he arrived at the hospital almost an hour later because of traffic, he got just a little turned around but then finally found an information desk.

“Andrew Diaz. He just came in and I was — I was with him and—” 

Buck spotted him then. He was on a gurney now and they were rolling him away. 

“That’s...that’s him. I—”

“Honey, honey, calm down. Are you a family member or friend? I can only release information to family. Someone has probably already been tasked with informing his emergency contacts and—”

Buck tried to take a breath. He didn’t quite know why he was freaking out so much. Maybe everything was finally hitting him. “I — I saved him earlier and I just want to make sure that he’s okay because I’ve been seeing him pretty much every day for months now and he’s like this perfect guy, you know, and I was going to...I was going to marry him, I think, maybe. If I ever built up the courage to—”

“So you’re not immediate family, then,” the woman said and her tone which had been friendly and almost comforting a moment ago had gone flat. 

“I — no...no, I’m not.” 

“Nothing I can do, then,” she said and turned away in one fluid motion leaving Buck with an open mouth. 

Buck didn’t know what to do. Did he just leave and never find out what happened to Andrew? Did he wait it out to see if his family members came in? But then that would mean explaining himself and the whole weird crush from afar thing wouldn’t go off too well. Not to mention he really didn’t know Andrew at all. He’d learned his name a little over an hour earlier. Buck was just about to turn around and leave when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He turned and found a nurse. Not the one from earlier. This one was younger and she smiled sweetly at him. 

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Olivia and I sort of overheard you earlier. I’m sorry about her. She’s not the worst but she’s not very open minded. But if you want to see your boyfriend, I can make that happen. Or — well, will it be fiance soon?” 

Buck was speechless. Words completely failed him leaving his mind blank because that wasn’t what he was expecting. Olivia smiled at him and then motioned for him to follow her and Buck didn’t hesitate. She took him down the hall and past some doors into a room where Andrew was lying prone on a hospital bed. 

She pat his arm. “You can sit with him, if you want? No one will bother you. I should get back.” 

Buck didn’t even think about correcting her as she stepped towards the door because he could see Andrew through the glass and even in the hospital bed in a gown and with an IV line in his hand he still looked as handsome as ever. 

“And I bet today was a hard day. You’re the one that pulled him off the street too, right?” Oliva asked. “The paramedics were talking about it when they brought him in.” 

“I — yeah, I did.” 

“He was lucky you were with him,” Olivia said and she sighed. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”

Buck felt maybe a little bit odd, but he still walked over to the chair next to Andrew’s bed and he sat down. He would just linger for a moment and then leave and even if the nurse said anything about him to anyone it probably wouldn’t even matter. He just wanted to get another look at Andrew. Maybe next time he saw him stop by Coffee Time, Buck might actually talk to him. 

“Wish I could have met you properly,” Buck muttered. “But at least you’re going to be okay. Anyway, I should — I should go. I’m kinda being a bit delusional but I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Buck stood up and he looked at Andrew one more time.

Technically, Buck realized, he didn’t even know if Andrew would be okay. Olivia hadn’t bothered to tell him and maybe she didn’t even know. Looking at him, though, it made Buck hope that he wasn’t too badly off. His heart was a steady beat on the monitor and he was breathing on his own which had to mean something good. Not to mention that if he had been badly off he would have probably been in another place in the hospital like the ICU and not just a regular room. 

Buck didn’t mean to linger as long as he did, but sitting there next to Andrew was weirdly peaceful. It was also a lot less lonely. Buck knew he’d made a mistake when he heard footsteps at the door to the room. He didn’t turn at once, hoping to find Olivia or maybe Andrew’s doctor. Instead, he found a police officer. So maybe the nurse had been wrong and someone had called security on him. It was no matter, Buck was ready to go anyway. 

The woman stepped towards him. She looked like the very definition of authority. Her hand was on her belt inches from where her gun was holstered and the other she lifted towards Buck as she walked towards him. 

“I heard you were responsible for helping him out,” she said and Buck took her hand and shook it. 

Her grip was strong and sure. Buck would be stupid if that woman didn’t scare him just a little bit. 

“I — I did, yes,” Buck said. Maybe she was just there to question him. “I didn’t — I didn’t see what happened though. Just heard him yell out and then he was on the ground.” 

She nodded and made a humming noise. She wasn’t even looking at him though and instead her eyes were settled on Andrew. 

“He got lucky you were there, Mr…”

“Buckley,” Buck said. “Everyone calls me Buck, though.” 

She nodded. “Sergeant Grant,” she said. “But you can call me Athena. The nurse out there told me you’re Andrew’s boyfriend. I didn’t know he was dating anyone, but you saved his life so that makes you alright in my books even if he didn’t bother to fill me in on this development.”

Athena knew Andrew personally. Suddenly the hole he’d dug himself into felt like it had gotten feet deepert. But maybe if he just told the truth she wouldn’t hold it against him and he could walk out of the hospital without any trouble. Buck couldn’t lie to the police especially when the whole thing was a misunderstanding. All he’d wanted was to make sure that Andrew was okay.

“I—” his words were cut off when three people walked into the room. 

They were all in uniform but they weren’t police. They were firefighters. So at least Buck had been right when he guessed that Andrew was a firefighter. It was probably how he knew Athena seeing as they were first responders and probably worked closely together. Buck had always admired first responders and seeing them rush in towards the hospital bed and crowd it checking on their friend and co-worker, it warmed his heart a little. This was what Andrew was a part of. 

He went unnoticed for a moment and Buck could have snuck out if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. Instead, he watched them. They were all in uniform but none of the gear. The woman, dark skinned with a shaved head and glasses stood by the foot of the hospital bed next to an Asian man. The two of them were talking to each other in low tones. The other firefighter was older but he had an easy air about him and an open countenance. He went to stand by Athena and it was Athena that brought attention to Buck. 

“He is the one you should thank. Saved Andrew. But you guys probably already know him, he’s Andrew’s boyfriend.” 

Buck could have facepalmed for not jumping in and fixing it right then and there but in that moment two more people walked into the room. An older hispanic woman followed by an even older hispanic woman. 

“Whose boyfriend?” the younger of the two asked. 

“Well, Andrew’s,” Athena said. “I mean, I’m out of the loop all the time but you all share everything so I figured—”

“No,” the woman firefighter said. “No, he hasn’t said anything.” 

Her companion spoke up. “I think maybe he’s been seeing someone. Eddie would know.” 

They were all looking at him and Buck had no idea what to do or what to say. The older woman was led to a chair by the younger and for a moment they were distracted looking at Andrew but no amount of time could give Buck an out. 

“Well anyway, this is Buck,” Athena said. “This is my husband and your boyfriend’s Captain, Bobby.” 

Bobby shot him a warm smile. 

“That’s Henrietta but we all call her Hen. Chimney is next to her and don’t bother to ask why anyone calls him that,” Athena said with a nod at the other firefighters. 

“I’m Josephina,” the younger hispanic woman said. “This is my mother Isabel. Andrew is my nephew.” 

Buck looked at all of them. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Evan but everyone calls me Buck. It’s nice to meet you all. And I really — I should apologize because—”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Athena said at once. 

“You really don’t. We’re a little pushy and in each other’s business but it’s okay if Andrew felt like keeping you to himself,” Hen said. 

“My grandson can be a bit taciturn,” Isabel said but she smiled at Buck. 

Buck had no idea how he was going to explain it to them. They were all just so nice and so welcoming and Buck still had no idea if Andrew was straight or bi or gay but all of his friends and family seemed to have no problem with it at all which gave Buck no answers. It made him panic a little, though, and he really needed to set things straight. 

“Okay, but I really do need to clear something up—”

Buck had to stop when he realized that Isabel had gone white. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Pepa, pero tu dijiste que—” 

[“Pepa, but you said that—”]

“Mama, no te preocupes. Todo esta bien. Andrew va a estar bien.”

[“Mom, don’t worry. Everything is okay. Andrew is going to be okay.”]

Buck’s Spanish wasn’t exactly perfect, but he understood what they were saying without much trouble. 

“The nurse didn’t tell me much,” Buck said when they all looked to him. 

“He’ll be okay,” Hen said. 

Isabel let out a breath and she seemed to regain her color and she smiled at him. “Thank you, Buck,” she said and there was a bit of an accent in her voice but not much. “And thank you for being there for him.”

“What happened exactly?” Bobby asked. 

“I — I’m not sure. I was turned away and I heard him scream so I rushed towards him and he was on the ground passed out. Not too far from the sidewalk but kind of out of view so I had to pull him out of the way and I called 9-1-1.” 

“A witness said it was a kid on a bike,” Athena said. “Avoided hitting him head on but Andrew fell. Hit his head.”

In that moment a doctor and the first nurse that Buck had seen walked in. Her eyes narrowed on him when he saw him and Buck knew he was in trouble now. 

“What is he doing in here?” She asked. “He’s not supposed to be here. It’s family only and—”

“And do we look like we’re related to him,” Athena said at once. “We are his family. That includes Buck.”

Olivia came running in, then. “Anyway, he’s his fiance,” she said. “Has every right to be here, Maria. Saved his life and everything.”

Buck felt all of their eyes on him and if he had ever wanted the floor or the universe itself to swallow him whole it was in that moment. 

“Well...we’re not exactly—”

“You’re engaged!” Isabel said at that same moment. 

Hen was covering her mouth and Chimney’s mouth was open in shock. Athena looked a little confused and Bobby almost shared her expression. But it was Isabel that held his attention. 

“I — well not exactly,” he said and he noted how Isabel just lit up. 

“But he wants to ask him,” the ever so helpful nurse threw in. Olivia was going to be the death of him.  

Buck could have face palmed. He was really not getting out of this unscathed. 

“Well that is...I—”

Isabel was looking at him with far too much expectation. 

“We’re not engaged exactly,” Buck said. 

“But you want to be,” Athena said. 

Buck had no idea what made him nod. 

----

Next Chapter

Notes: Thank you to anyone reading and please let me know what you thought. :)

I will be trying to be consistent with updating so it shouldn't be too long of a wait between chapters. 

Anyone that wants to be tagged on future chapters do let me know. 

[ellanainthetardis]

I hadn’t written anything for 4x01 yet and… Well. Smut happened. Thanks to @akachankami for the beta! [FF] or [AO3]

Echoes

“Your room, ambassador.”

Echo spits the words, the poisonous venom so thick in her voice that Marcus takes a step in front of Abby without thinking twice about it. The young woman doesn’t like them and she might have forged a bond with Bellamy somehow but it definitely doesn’t extend to him or Abby. Maybe she’s angry to have been demoted from War Chief to glorified baby-sitter or maybe it is just the fact that her advices to have them killed went ignored…

Marcus isn’t sure.

And he doesn’t quite care.

In time, he would have to try and change her mind but that could wait.

“Chancellor.” Abby corrects, easily stepping aside to stand next to him. Her voice is soft and hard at the same time, in that particular way of hers he has always marveled at. She stares straight at the blond warrior without flinching. “Not ambassador.”

They haven’t really discussed the Chancellor issue yet although he supposes there isn’t a lot more to talk about. Abby doesn’t want the job – or rather would prefer for him to have it – and there is no way they are tempting fate by bringing Jaha into this. Pike is dead, power falls back on the Council… They don’t have a Council anymore… He is a little confused about what the Charter would have to say about that but he figures the lines are blurry enough that they can call it and not being challenged.

Not that any of that really matters anymore.

Except it does, doesn’t it? Because their people still need someone to guide them.

“He bears the mark of the Thirteenth Clan.” Echo states, her eyes shifting to his arm. The burn scar is covered by his sleeve but his other hand presses on it, unconsciously confirming her claim.

“Ambassador is fine in Polis.” he says, to cut the conversation short. He doesn’t particularly want to debate on titles and honorifics, first because he doesn’t really care and, second, because he really wants some peace and quiet.

“Chancellor.” Echo repeats carefully anyway, ignoring him. “Is that your word for commander?”

“In a way.” Abby offers tersely.

“But Wanheda is in charge now.” the warrior retorts with a small disapproving frown. “What sort of commanders leave their second in charge to be ambassadors?”

The sort who knows he won’t be commander long, Marcus thinks.

“The good ones.” Abby replies, defensive.

It seems to amuse Echo more than it convinces her. She turns to Marcus, face set in stone, her gaze evaluating. “Yu don badan kru.”

You have loyal people.

“Em praiz yu?” he asks. Does that surprise you?

He supposes Azgeda isn’t that used to showing loyalty to their authority figures. It is a large clan, possibly the largest, and everyone can’t be happy with their monarchs. He knows Echo was loyal to her queen,  maybe less to her king, but he thinks it’s the exception rather than the rule.

And, as if to confirm that impression, she dismisses the question by waving an impatient hand in Abby’s direction. “I will take you to your room.”

“Thank you but we don’t need two rooms.” she answers.

Marcus’ head turns so fast he feels something snap in his neck, not certain he heard her right. In the split second it takes him to find her gaze, he thinks maybe she wants to stay with him in case things go south – and he can’t fault her for that – but any thought of possible escape plans and damage control flies out the window when he meets her eyes.

This has nothing to do with things possibly going south with the Grounders.

There’s no question on her face. She’s not asking him, she’s telling him.

“I see.” Echo says and he thinks they revealed more than maybe is wise. “We provided clothes for you to borrow until the servants can wash yours. If you need anything, King Roan wants you to feel free to ask.”

He breathes a little easier when the girl finally leaves the room although the moment the doors are shut behind her he feels trapped. He turns toward Abby who has picked up something from the table in what he figures to be the living-room part of the room. It takes him a few minutes to realize it’s a leather bound notebook full of sketches.

He’s pretty sure this was Clarke’s room before it was theirs. The room Lexa intended for Skaikru’s ambassador.

Abby looks tired, worried and vulnerable.

“She will be alright.” he offers and, when she looks up at him, he nods to the notebook in her hands. “She’s your daughter, Abby. Through and through.”

He intends it as a compliment but the smile that graces her lips is wistful. “That’s what worries me. I always thought she had taken after Jake but…” She stops and shrugs, her hand absentmindedly coiling around the ring she carries on a chain. His eyes follow the move and there is suddenly an odd tension in the room, as if they just summoned a ghost. She clears her throat and lets go of the ring to study him. “How are you? And don’t say fine.”

If he has to list everything that hurts, he thinks they will still be standing there the next morning. He steps closer to her instead and, when he is within reach, he brushes the tips of his fingers against the bruises around her neck.

He doesn’t need to ask what happened. He knows what happened. If anyone knew something in the COL, everyone knew. He knows what ALIE made her do, what Clarke didn’t sacrifice.

Maybe that’s in part why he put her in charge while he decided to stay behind, because leadership is paved with sacrifices he doesn’t want, can’t, make anymore. He feels guilty about leaving that weight with her but he knows Bellamy will be there to ground her, just like Abby used to do for him.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side as his touch become a bit firmer. He’s probing more than he’s touching now, making sure she’s fine.

“I would do it again.” he whispers quietly. He knows where her mind is gone. He doesn’t need a key or ALIE to know her thoughts. She’s blaming herself and he can’t let her go there because, if they go there, they will never climb out. “I don’t regret it.”

She searches his eyes for a moment and smiles, tension leaving her shoulders. She cups his cheek and pulls him down a little… He meets her lips without a moment of hesitation. When she deepens the kiss, his mind flashes back to his arrival in Polis, to that room and the things ALIE asked her to do to convince him, to seduce him… It makes him mad that the AI manipulated them that way, exploited something that is still so new and fragile… So precious to him…

“Marcus?” she asks against his mouth, uncertain.

He kisses her harder in reassurance, forgetting all about restrain or any half-cooked thought of maybe taking it slow. All that’s left is the adrenaline backlash of a near-death experience. His and hers alike.

Her fingers find his hair, tangle in it to better take control of the kiss… He gives her that much, slipping one of his hands under her shirt, the other one moving from the small of her back to…

The bandage catches on her belt and he breaks the kiss with a hiss. Cradling his wrist in his other hand is instinctive, his jaw clenches as he waits for the pain to pass but it won’t go away. He has been ignoring it for hours and now it’s back with a vengeance.

“Let me see.” she orders. There is no room for argument and no hope of distracting her now, she has her doctor stance. She ushers him toward the couch and fetches her medical bag. At the face she makes when she opens it, he knows they’re not as well stocked as she would have liked. She shots him an amused look while she washes her hands in a bronze bowl by the bed. “I hope you didn’t tear my stitches.”

The bed they will have to share unless he offers to be a gentleman and take the couch.

He doesn’t let himself think about the bed yet.

He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t fit on the couch anyway.

“I tried my best not to, does that count for something?” He flashes her a sheepish smile.

He knows that he popped out at least one of them but he doesn’t offer the information. The emergency stitches she put before they left the tower were done in a hurry, not her finest work but good enough to hold.

He lets her unwrap the bandages on his right hand, automatically flexing his fingers once it comes loose.

“Was it too tight?” she frowns, her fingers ghosting over the marks the gauze left on his skin. They shy away from the angry red wound and the black threads crisscrossing over it. “I don’t like the look of this one.” She finds an antiseptic balm in the bag and starts smearing it over his inner wrist. It smells strongly of wild herbs and it reminds him of the meadow not too far from Arkadia. At his questioning look, she smiles a little. “It’s one of Nyko’s remedies.” Her fingers linger even after there is no more balm to apply. “Marcus…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” he promises.

“We focus on what comes next?” she asks, maybe a bit bitterly. There’s always something coming next and no time to come to terms with what is happening around them. It sometimes feels like it’s been that way since Jake’s death.

“We have to.” he reminds her, brushing her hair back with his free hand. She takes a deep breath and nods once. She grabs more bandages, compresses, and medical tape and proceeds to wrap half his arm in them. “Do you think there’s enough?” he jokes at some point.

He gets an aggravated look in answer.

“I know you.” she simply states.

And maybe he doesn’t have the best track record with not undoing her handiwork.

He’s about to call her out on it – because he’s seen her refuse Jackson’s help earlier – when there’s a knock on the door. They exchange a look, suddenly tense.

“Come in.” he calls. Nothing happens and, after a second, he corrects himself. “Minop.”

The door is opened a crack and in slips a skittish young girl who gives a small bow.

“Yu sad op washin sok, bandrona?” she asks.

The words aren’t entirely familiar, aside for the ambassador one, and it takes him a moment to realize what she’s asking him.

“Do you want a bath?” he defers to Abby. Her whole face lights up at the prospect and he doesn’t even need a vocal answer. He can’t help but chuckle a little at her eagerness, although he supposes it would be good to get rid of all that grime. “Sha. Chof.”

The girl bows again and disappears, leaving the door open. She comes back before Abby is done wrapping his wrist up though, followed by more servants carrying buckets of hot water. He watches them while she takes care of his left hand, making sure to look suitably chastised when she lectures him about the stitch he has indeed popped out at some point today. He’s not a fan of needles so it gives him as good an excuse as any not to look as she redoes everything.

It’s only when the servants start lighting candles that he realizes the sun is setting. It’s later than he thought. He wonders if the kids made it back to Arkadia already or if they’re camping somewhere. He hopes they’re alright.

The girl from earlier keeps throwing them curious looks. She’s young but there’s no doubt she’s in charge. She commands the others, instructing them to place candles here and there, to make sure they have everything they would need…

Abby is starting to wrap his wrist in an impressive bandage when the girl wanders closer, her head bowed in deference. “Beda ai lid in dina, bandrona?”

Should I bring in dinner, ambassador?

His stomach rumbles in answer. He can’t remember the last time he ate and he’s pretty sure the same goes for Abby. Food hasn’t been one of ALIE’s priorities.

“Sha. Mochof.” he accepts with a smile.

“Chit ste yu… tagon?” Abby asks before the girl can scurry away again.

Her Trigedasleng is still hesitant but Marcus can’t help but smile with pride. She’s having a difficult time learning and usually sticks to simple sentences. Like asking someone their name.

“Dalys, Skaiheda.” the servant offers.

“I’m not…” Abby frowns and then winces as she struggles to piece off a sentence. “Ai laik nou Skaiheda noumou.” I’m not Skaikru’s leader anymore. She glances at him and he confirms she got it right with a nod so she soldiers on. “Ai laik fisa.” I am a healer. She makes a face and shakes her head. “Can you ask her if I can take a look at her hand?”

He blinks, surprised by the request, before realizing that the girl has been keeping her right hand closed in a fist. He translates and Dalys offers her hand with obvious reluctance, probably only complying because he asked her too.

There isn’t a soul in Polis that haven’t suffered because of the COL. The burn on the girl’s hand looks bad but not as bad as other things he saw in the streets earlier. He leaves Abby to treat it, wandering around the room. The servants are done with the candles and the bath but the water is smoking and there’s no putting a toe in there without ending up boiled.

He gravitates back to the couch and the table when the food has been brought. It’s nothing outlandish, cold meat and some fruits… It looks so tempting to him but he forces himself to wait until Abby is done and sends the servant girl on her way before filling two plates. They start eating well before the door swings shut once more and they’re left alone.

They’re both too starved to talk. They swallow down the food as if they haven’t been used to being on ration all their lives and he really can’t remember the last time he ate. Before Polis? Before capturing Pike? Before…

It’s a little embarrassing how clean the plates are when they finally put them down.

They share a small awkward smile and Abby stands up to go check the still steaming tub. He can’t really see her from the couch, the ‘bathroom’ area is tucked away in a corner near the bed. His fingers drum on the armrest and he wonders if she will take it personally if he takes a nap while she washes up because…

His train of thoughts die when she comes back in his line of sight, jacket and shirt gone. She’s only wearing a black tank top over her pants now and not only it doesn’t cover much but it is very obvious she has no bra underneath. She found a hairbrush somewhere and she’s trying to untangle her hair.

“Are you staying over there?” she asks, her lips quirked up. It’s almost a challenge and he has never been good at ignoring her challenges.

He doesn’t quite know what they’re doing. If they’re going there tonight, if it’s clever, if it’s too soon… Those are all valid questions he should be asking, they have only kissed twice after all if they don’t count the ALIE act. He simply follows her lead instead. Like most of the time.  

He pushes himself to his feet, something that is more difficult than it ought to be because he feels like he has just climbed up a giant tower with his bare hands – and oh wait… – and joins her in the other part of the room. The mood is entirely different here, it’s cozier. The candles make it… intimate. And the steam rising from the tub…

He swallows hard. He should be too tired to entertain any wicked thoughts but the thoughts are here all the same. They can’t not be here when she’s toeing off her boots and unbuckling her belt as if it’s something they do every day – and he finds he desperately wants them to do that every day.

He watches her pants flop around her ankles in a daze. He watches her foot step out of them and kicking them to the side where, he realizes, her jacket and shirt lay in a heap. And then he watches her foot come closer to him. Only then does he let his eyes roam up her shins, up her thighs… They stop briefly on the simple black cotton panties she has on and up they go again, lingering on the stretch of skin between the band of her underwear and the hem of her tank top… He studies the shape of her belly button as if it holds the answers to all the questions in the universe… His gaze has made it all the way to the nipples visibly peaking under the fabric when she pushes his jacket off his shoulders.

She’s gentle when she slips it off his forearms and he looks up, seized with anger and dread when he spots just how bad the bruising around her throat looks like. He leans in when she tosses his jacket with the rest of her clothes, brushing a soft kiss against the abused skin, careful not to put too much pressure on it. Her hand immediately shoots to cradle the back of his head and he doesn’t know what arouses him more: the quiet sound his beard makes as it rasps against her flesh or her small gasp that can’t be mistaken for anything but pleasure.

He lets his mouth trail down the curve of her neck to her shoulder.

His shirt is bundled in her fist halfway to his side and he returns the favor by pushing hers up her back. He feels the scars under his palms and it makes him falter briefly. He lets out a slow breath against his skin, unable to accept what would have happened if…

“What comes next.” she reminds him and he nods slowly. He knows. He knows but… “What comes next shouldn’t be so terrible…” she jokes and he chuckles.

Just like that, the bad memories fade and he gets back to exploring her skin with his mouth, his hand spread flat between her shoulder blades. It makes her shirt inch up and he’s fascinated with the amount of flesh it reveals. He entertains the thought of dropping to his knees, of nuzzling her stomach, of trying and venturing where the shirt is temptingly bundled under her breasts…

She forces his shirt off before he can act on it and, suddenly, she’s right there, in his space, hands and mouth roaming on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her close. Her caresses become less purposeful and she rests her cheek against his shoulder, her palm still running up and down his arm slowly.

It’s like the eye of the storm.

He’s pretty sure she can feel him against her stomach. It’s half the reason why he calmed things down, because he wants her to be sure, to be…

She drops a kiss on his skin and sneaks her hands between them. He doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline but the sound of his belt being unbuckled seems unnaturally loud. She pops the button open and the zipper down and nudges his trousers down before planting a kiss on his lips and walking away.

It’s cold without her body pressed close to his and he doesn’t like it.

He wants to ask what’s in her mind but the question dies on his tongue when she passes her tank top over her head and flicks it in the vague direction of the heap of dirty clothes. He can only watch. He can only watch as the panties follow the same path. He can only watch as she carefully places the chain with her ring on the table by the bed and as she reaches for the cloth in the washing basin. He can only watch as she runs it over her neck and down her arms, scraping at the dried blood, the soot and the grime.

The bathtub is still steaming but it should have been alright to step in now.

He doesn’t tell her.

He can’t, not when the sight is so riveting.

The moment she runs the cloth over her breast, he knows they just passed the point of no return.

He’s painfully constricted in his underwear so he crouches down to unlace his boots, never taking his eyes off her. He wants to follow the cloth’s path with his mouth. He does a quick job of getting naked, particularly when her hand disappears between her legs.

He’s right behind her in a flash, his hand covering hers, rubbing the cloth just where… Her head falls back on his shoulder, her breath catching in her throat. He could get addicted to those sounds very quickly, he decides, letting his other hand run over her ribcage and all the way to her breast.

“Marcus…” she whispers when he circles her nipple.

He’s frustrated by the barrier of cloth between his fingers and her so he tries to nudge it away but she seems to come back to herself and turns around in his arms.

“Abby.” It’s almost a whine but he doesn’t care. He wants her. He needs her. There would be time for games later, time for…

“Soon.” she promises. She runs the cloth on his neck, on his shoulders and down his arms. She’s trying her best to be efficient, he can tell, but she can’t stop herself from touching any more than he can. She’s bent on cleaning them up and a part of him understands why, they smell and taste like blood and death, but it’s not the part who’s in control right now. His brain isn’t doing the thinking right at this moment.

He doesn’t stand still while she washes him, his palms roam on her back, on her ass… They’re relentless in their exploration and his fingers clench against her flesh when she brings the cloth to his inner thigh, when she playfully wraps it around his length and…

“Abby.” he growls. He’s throbbing already and he doesn’t think he will last long if she plays that game. It’s not her hand he wants.

He kisses her because it’s the only logical thing to do, the only thing he can do. The bed is right there but they end up against the wall instead. He snatches the cloth from her hand while she’s distracted by his mouth and tosses it away. They’re clean enough, he decides. It might have been better to wait after the bath but he can’t quite care.

He bends the knees a little, still kissing her, and runs his palms under her thighs. He doesn’t give her a warning before lifting her up. Pain flares in his wrists and he groans but he doesn’t let a small thing like that deter him. Her hand wraps around him again, tortures him with bliss… He bows his head to let his lips run on her collarbone, to her breasts…

He pins her against the wall with his hips to free one of his hands, to bring it between their bodies… The second he touches her she drops her forehead on his shoulder, short of breath. It soon turns to panting as they find a rhythm to their strokes…

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore and he takes his hand away. She lifts her head from his shoulder, he brushes her hair back, drawing her in for another kiss… He doesn’t need to tell her what he wants. He puts his hand back under her thighs to better support her as she guides him inside her…

He’s careful at first, too painfully aware of exactly how long it must have been for her. But the sounds she makes with every new inch delights him too much and he can’t really control the buckling of his hips. Her fingers dig in the back of his neck when he buries himself in her.

He wants to ask if she’s alright but the growl that escapes her throat is almost feral.

“Move.” she commands and then soothes her harness with a mind-blowing kiss. “Please…”

He doesn’t really need more than that to grant her request. He thinks he’s drunk on the little noises she makes when she gets close but it’s nothing to what he feels when she actually climaxes with his name on her lips.

That’s his undoing.

He reaches his release with a cry of her name.

For a moment, they bathe in the afterglow and everything is perfect, calm, peaceful. Then he starts coming back into his body and he can’t quite help a wince. She must glimpse it because she immediately unhooks her legs and places her feet down.

“Do I have to stitch you up again?” she chuckles.

“Entirely worth it.” he shrugs with a smile.

He flexes his wrists a few times until she grabs his hands and turns them palms up. She studies the bandages attentively but when no stain of blood shows up she trails her fingers to his elbows and steps into the space between his arms, looking up at him with a smile, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“We are doing it again.” she declares.

“As you know, I never argue with my doctor.” he lies, which warrants him a small playful whack on the shoulder. He embraces her, resting his chin on the side of her head. “I love you.”

He doesn’t let himself think about it or make it a big thing. Compared to everything they’ve been through… It’s not scary to say and it’s not scary to think.

It’s easy even.

The easiest thing he has ever done.

The smile that immediately stretches her lips is bright if a little wistful. He knows what she’s thinking about. Six months. Six months isn’t long enough. Six months is…

“We will have to make the most of it.” he shrugs before she can say anything.

Her face softens, probably because of this gift of his to always know what she’s worrying about. She cups his cheek, her thumb tracing random paths in his beard.

“I love you.” she confesses, just as easily as he had. As if they have been saying it for years instead of for the first time. The kiss is gentler than the others they’ve shared today but it soon turns heated again. “Bath.” she mumbles against his mouth, carefully guiding him backward.

He lets out a disappointed groan but he knows she’s right so he doesn’t fight her on it. He’s the first to step in the bathtub and the warm water wrapping around his calves in an immediate relief to his aching muscles. He sinks in the bath with a content sigh.

“Keep your arms out.” she warns. “I made the bandages as waterproof as I could but I don’t want the wounds to get wet.”

He obediently rests his arms on either side of the tub and spreads his legs as wide as he can to make space for her. “Get in.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, with a blissful sigh of her own.

It’s frustrating, not being able to wrap his arms around her as she snuggles against him, or not being able to help her wash her hair – something he will definitely do at some point, he decides – but the safe bubble they’re in compensates for it.

He drifts off while she rinses the shampoo off her hair and only wakes up way later, when there are only a handful of candles left burning and the water is cold around them. Abby is curled up against his chest and he can’t help a smile even as he nudges her awake.

He can get used to this.

Even if it’s only for six months…

It makes it all worth it.