#I'm lowkey glad I'm waiting to post this fic because I'm thinking about rewriting the first couple chapters to deal with some discrepancies

[sentientcave]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Well it's that time of week again somehow. This time a bit from Sparrow since I just crossed the 40k mark. Was thinking about posting a bit from You Drive Me Wild but since I can reasonably get that finished by this weekend I'll save the whole thing for you all till then. This is a pretty fluffy little excerpt so I don't think any content warnings apply. Give me a shout if you disagree and I'll fix.

It was like gravity, the way he pulled her into him, planting a little kiss on the corner of her mouth as a greeting, his arm sliding around her waist like it belonged there. “How’re you feeling, love? Ready?”

“Just about. Might catch another hour or two of sleep before take off. Getting shot really takes the wind out of your sails.” “Might do the same, if you don’t mind company,” he said in a low voice, nuzzling against the side of her head.

Affection was so easy for him, like he knew exactly how to act without thinking about it. Morgan felt clumsy in comparison, not knowing what sort of touches were the right ones, what would be welcome, not even fully aware of what it was she wanted to convey. How could he be so certain about her when there was still so much unknown between them? John didn’t so much as know that her middle name was Talia, or that her favourite colour was green. But maybe that really didn’t matter. Danny had known those things, and more, and he’d still been a mistake. “I could use some help putting the sheets back on the bed, anyway,” she said, which was half an answer. Enough of one for him to fill in the blanks with what he wanted her to say, at least.

They ate dinner— Gaz had cooked— but Morgan couldn’t really focus on tasting anything, she just ate because she knew she needed to, and thanked him and complimented the meal, because she knew that was what he wanted to hear. And the praise did make him glow, enough to make her feel better about the white lie. I’ll pay more attention next time, she promised herself. There was going to be a next time.

After a couple more hours of sleep, this time curled up against John's chest, it was time to get ready. She geared up, John stealing kisses while she readied, like he was afraid to send her off without a ration of his affection to tie her over until they saw each other again.

"It won't even be that long," she reminded him. "Should be all over by sunrise."

"Should be. But maybe not. Just need you to come back to me, love." He cupped her face with big, calloused hands, thumbs brushing across her cheeks, his eyes roaming her face ardently, as though he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

"I will," she promised. Looking at him was too intense, but she held eye contact anyway, to make sure he knew that she meant it, even though there was no way that she could actually promise such a thing.

Trepidation stirred in her belly, sinking sharp claws in wherever it touched. There was no guarantee that this wouldn’t go south— Knowing Danny, it would. But she had a Ghost in her back pocket this time, and something good to look forward to when it was all over.