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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

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Rickety-Rickety Wrecked

Rick Sanchez x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: After recently getting a job, the illusion that high school status quotes and popularity truly mean nothing. You've been re-evaluating things that once made you bubble with excitement like sneaking out and partying. That being said, your younger sister informs you that she's going to Summer Smith's house party. Starting to feel like a senior citizen, you tag along and encounter Rick Sanchez.

Word Count 3.0k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)

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As you walked out the doors of the nursing home you worked at. Your hand was lazily searching for the keys that were undoubtedly buried at the bottom of your bag. After opening the car door, you let your body fall into the driver’s seat. It wasn’t just being physically but mentally drained as well. Tossing your purse into the passenger side and start the car. It was Friday and you were excited to finally have an entire weekend off. You couldn’t remember the last time you had any time to yourself. Pulling into the driveway, you weren’t surprised to see that your mom’s car wasn’t home. She works nights but will take every double shift she can get her hands on. You dropped the purse on your bed and immediately went over to shower. Even though you’re a Med-Tech you still will help residents with toileting among other things. While waiting for the water to get hot, you let your dirty scrubs drop onto the floor. The water was scorchingly perfect, you could feel your muscles loosening. Using your nails, you scrub your scalp almost moaning from how nice it felt. The smell of the ‘honey crisp apple’ scented candle was only adding to the relaxation. Unfortunately that all came to a halt when your younger sister barrelled into the bathroom and turned on the harsh fluorescent lights.

“Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed.

“Well sorry, you’re the one hogging the bathroom,” your sister remarked.

“If you were patient and knocked I would have told you that I’m about to be done,” you said.

“No time, Morty invited me to a party that Summer is throwing,” she said which made you throw the current open.

“You’re going to Summer Smith’s party?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I thought you were going to. Morty mentioned that Summer asked you. And plus I kinda already told my friend that you would give us a ride..” she said.

“Girl what the fuck, why would I go to a party after working every day after school all week. Yeah she invited me but I wasn’t planning on going,” you huffed.

“Well, can you still take me?” she asked.

After you got out of the shower you thought about the fact that even your younger sister was going to be at this party. Even though you were still tired from school and the work week, you felt like staying home would just make you feel… pathetic. As soon as you got out of the shower you started getting ready. You haven’t done your makeup in so long that you almost forgot how to apply your lashes. You straightened your hair and threw on a jean mini skirt and a black long sleeve. It was weird looking in the mirror once you were all done up. You liked it though, it made you miss when you didn’t have to worry about work. When you went downstairs to see if your little sister was ready to go, she was equally as shocked at your appearance. After her friend arrived you guys took off to the Smith house. The entire house was completely lit up with lights, teens that were smoking on the roof, and of course, unknown species of life that were slithering and flying around. Your sister pestered you for 20 bucks then ditched you. You entered the house and immediately got greeted by the smell of weed and tobacco. It didn’t bother you too much though, you walked into the living room and immediately saw your old group of friends. They all screamed and ran over to give you a hug. You could tell they were all a little intoxicated.

“What are you doing here, we had no idea you were coming!” Maya said.

“Yeah I had the weekend off so I thought I’d come out,” you said.

“Ever since you started working, I feel like I haven’t seen you in like forever,” Anna said.

“Yeah I know, but it’s nice being able to save money. Especially because I could take some of that responsibility off my mom,” you said.

“Don’t you miss going out though? You were literally about to get asked out by Brad. I mean like, you practically lost your status when it comes to school,” Maya said in a condescending way.

“If my status was based purely on me going to parties and hanging out with girls who are pretending to be drunk then I don’t think I want it. Too obtainable for someone like me, sounds perfect for you though,” you said, giving her a warm smile as you watched her smirk fade from her face.

Now you remember why you stopped going to house parties like this. As you walked around you couldn’t help but notice all the sophomoric conversations going on. Things like bragging about having a roach from their dad’s ashtray. Or boasting about getting to second base with their girl. Honestly, it made you feel a lot older than you are. Making your way into the kitchen, you saw Summer standing there with Trisha. They both greeted you and complemented how you looked, which really lifted your confidence.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, stranger,” Summer said, giving you a red solo cup filled with an unknown liquid.

“Girl you know I started working,” you said, smelling the cup and trying to identify what type of liquor it is.

“Same, honestly ever since I started working at my mom’s shop, I feel like my childhood is officially over,” Trisha laughed.

“God I’m glad I’m not the only one,” you joked back.

“We were about to go up into my room and smoke, you wanna join?” Summer asked which you immediately agreed to.

Her room was really nice, with pink coral walls and a bunch of different posters that covered them. Trisha and you sat down on her bed and Summer walked over and grabbed a bong from under her desk. She grabbed her desk chair so that she could sit in front of you guys. Trisha surprised you and pulled a blunt out from behind her ear. They thought this was your first time smoking but it wasn’t. When you work in a nursing home, sometimes the only thing keeping you sane is your wind-down time at the end of the day. After puffing on those for a bit, Summer pulled out a tray that had a couple of purple almost violet crystals. Without saying a word to each other, the two girls crush up one and then snort it. It took you back at first, the brazenness of how casually they were doing lines was a little jarring, to say the least. When you asked what it was they explained what kalaxian crystals were and what the high was like. Even though it was embarrassing, the factor that sold you was when Summer said they couldn’t be picked up on a drug test. Trisha was holding up the tray and Summer was walking you through what to do.

“So like, when people do lines for the first time, most don’t fully sniff because they are obviously like, intimidated by it. But if you take a small bump then it’ll just burn and you won’t get the full high. So just go full throttle,” she said handing you the straw, the fact that the whites of her eyes were now blue made you nervous.

However, the mix of alcohol and weed in your system was making you ballsy. You close your eyes and take the full line, dropping the straw on the tray and bringing your hands to your nose. As if that would’ve helped the burning sensation. Both girls were giggling as they watched you react, asking every now and then if you were okay. Your entire sinus cavity was not only burning but giving off an unpleasant taste in the back of your throat. The effects were immediate and you felt like you were defying gravity. Like if you really tried you could start floating away. You looked over at the two other girls who were dancing to the stereo Summer had in her room. Without them even noticing, you walked out of her room and made your way downstairs. You felt like everything was moving in slow motion and you were taking in every detail of everything you laid eyes on. The music was so loud that it felt like a heart beating in your ears. Panic and sensory overload were taking over and you could feel your heart began to quicken. After accidentally bumping into a girl, she turns around and tries to snake her arm around your waist. Obviously having a stranger try to grind on you in the midst of a panic attack was the last thing that helped. You broke away and made a B-line to the nearest door. You yanked it open and slammed it shut behind you. You were using your hand to cover your mouth in a sad attempt to stop your hyperventilation.

“Medical emergency detected, blood pressure 148/96 and rising; Medical intervention advised,” a monotone woman’s voice spoke throughout the room.

“Oh my fucking god, I’m fucking hallucinating… I’m overdosing I-I’m about to fucking die,” you have cried have muttered to yourself and you covered your ears.

“You -buhrup- you’re not dying yet, what did you take?” a male’s voice asked. When you looked up, a blue-haired man was standing over you. Wearing brown slacks and black shoes.

“You deaf? What -buhrup- did you take?” he asked again, taking your jaw into his hands and making you look up at him. Your eyes were still blue from the crystals and your jaw was now chattering. You were still crying and breathing heavily.

“I told Summer to stop letting people take bumps of kalaxian. I have something, hold on.

“No- I don’t, I just needed a-a few minutes to catch my breath,” you explained, wiping your eyes and standing up, still leaning against the garage door for support.

“Whatever, you’re lucky I’m trying this whole nice thing,” he said, going back to working on whatever it was sitting on his workbench.

“Sorry,” you said, walking over to his bench and asking if you could sit on the bench. He ignored you but also didn’t protest when you hopped on. Setting your purse down, grab your dab pen and take a puff.

“You sure about smoking that?” he asked.

“Weed is a vasodilator so it probably wouldn’t be the best thing for me right now but it can’t be the worst either,” you said taking another hit.

“Did WebMD teach you that?” he asked.

“No, I learned that from my CNA teacher,” you said.

“HAHA, do you enjoy wiping shit off of saggy balls?” Rick said followed by a fit of laughter.

“Yeah, kinda hot,” you said, taking a drag. He looked at you with his eyebrow cocked which made you burst out into laughter, “you should have seen his face!” You said you are unable to compose yourself. He squinted his eyes, tilted his head down slightly, and scowled at you.

Maybe it was the drugs but the look he gave you made your stomach feel like it was boiling. He again went back to tinkering with his invention. His side profile was strong, his lips were in a frown and he had liquor dripping down his chin. His hands were huge, making a screwdriver look like a pencil. His posture was horrible, practically hunching over the workbench. The blue long-sleeve he wore was slightly tucked into the top of his pants. You were watching his lower stomach rise and lower as he breathed at a very steady rate. He had dark under-eye bags that only added to an angst vibe that radiated off him. You wanted to make a move to indicate that you thought he was attractive but felt insecure. Taking a deep drag from your pen to give you a bit of courage, you kick off your heels.

The sound of them clattering to the floor made Rick look over, he didn’t move but instead shifted his eye to the side to watch you. When he didn’t give you the attention you were craving, you uncrossed your legs and let them hang in front of you. Rick set down what he was working on and turned to face you. Pressing his back into the workbench and just watching you. Biting onto the tip of the pen you take another big drag and blow it between your legs. In turn, he took a swig from his flask, almost like that was his move in this little game you were playing with each other. You set your pen down and pull your skirt up so that the jean material of your skirt was no longer touching the tabletop. Revealing the hip bands on your baby blue thong, he chuckled and walked over to you. He stood about a foot away from you and even though there was still distance between the two, it felt closer. You were intimidated by him and you couldn’t tell if it was turning you on more or not. Extending your leg out, you use your foot and untuck the front of his shirt from his pants. Exposing his happy trail that to your surprise was also blue.

“So the carpet does match the drapes,” you giggle, which quickly turns into a gasp as Rick grabs your ankle and holds it up slightly. He was squeezing it so tightly but this only ignited a need that you didn’t know existed.

“Should have asked if you were so curious,” he said, pulling your leg so that your ass was almost falling off the edge of the table.

He loosened his grip on your ankle and ran his calloused hand up your leg. Once he was close enough, he snaked his hand around your waist. The feeling of his hand touching your lower back made your back arch involuntarily. His crotch was pressed lightly against yours. You were so nervous that your teeth were chattering. His hands were now running up and down your lower back, almost like he was getting off from watching how sensitive you were to his touch. When you looked up, he was already looking down at you. This was something that was new to you and you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands. Trying not to think too hard about it, you dip your fingers into the waistband of his pants and boxers. You pressed your nose against him, letting your bottom lip rub against his gently. You start pulling on the end of his shirt, prompting him to take it off. He shook his head in disagreement, so you pull away slightly and take your top off. He laughed and then took his shirt off as well. As if he had a look in his eye that said I’ll show mine if you show yours’. The fact that neither of you had to speak to communicate made you want to throw yourself at him. There were scars littered across his body, you traced one that was on his chest. Moving your fingertips to his arms, still admiring his old battle wounds. He was still watching you even though you weren’t making eye contact with him.

When you finally broke away and looked up at him and couldn’t help but admire him. His frown lines, how dark his eyes were, and how his hair was sticking out in all directions. You smashed your mouth against him, unable to bear waiting any longer. He was such a good kisser, not messy and sloppy like the ones you’ve had before. He was aggressive but not overbearing, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Running your hands through his hair and around his neck. He moved his hands to his hips and began grinding against you. Your lips were starting to feel raw from how long he’d been biting and kissing. Moving your hands down to his pelvis you try unbuckling his belt. When he pulled away from you, a trail of saliva connected by the both of your bottom lips followed. He pulled down the front of his pants, exposing his dick. You pulled your panties to the side and he didn’t waste any time reaching down to feel how wet you were. He let out a hoarse moan, and let his forehead fall onto your shoulder. At this point you were aching with anticipation. Unwilling to take his teasing anymore, you reach down and line up his tip with your entrance. He takes the hint and moves his hands back to your hips for support. Slowly he started pressing into you, his mouth was slightly hung open. There was a slight stinging from how big he was but because he was starting slow, that feeling soon faded. He took a step forward once he was fully pressed into you.

He kept himself buried inside of you for a while while kissing your neck. Sucking hickies and leaving bite marks all the way down to your shoulder. He slowly started rocking himself back and forth. You attach yourself to his neck, wrapping your arms around his neck and moan as he slides in and out. You were trying to buck your hip up in order to meet him halfway with his thrusts. Watching his facial expressions as he pounded into you was making you feel euphoric. Everytime you tightened around his shaft you could see his face scrunch in pleasure. At this point he was pounding viciously into you, your walls were becoming sensitive. You were sure that he was getting close because he was getting more aggressive. His thrusts were getting more sporadic, he reached up and grabbed a fist full of your hair. Forcing your head back, exposing your neck allowing him to continue marking you up.

You were whimpering every time his length pressed completely inside you. His face was red from how much he was exerting himself. Your arms were wrapped around his neck so he grabbed you from underneath your knees and pressed you against the wall. The change in position was enough to send you over the edge, going limp slightly as your pussy spasmed around his cock while you came. He let his entire body weight press against you as he came inside you. As you were cumming, you could feel his throbbing member spurting inside of you. When he pulled out he took his shaft into his hand and rubbed his tip up and down your folds. Enjoying the feelings of your warmth and swollen core. He set you back down on the top of his work station. You were still cross faded and don’t think you could walk even if you wanted to. Barely being able to keep your eyes open you use your arm as a pillow to ‘rest your eyes’ for a few moments.

Rick zipped his pants up and went to leave the garage, knowing you’d probably leave once you woke up. Maybe it was the recent encounter with Unity that made him feel like a douche. As if having careless sex with you was only proving her point that you were a bad guy. He took a deep breath and stood in front of the door for a while before turning around. Grabbing your purse, he took your wallet and looked for the address on your ID. After punching it into his portal gun and creating the green entryway to your house. He picked you up bridal style and carried you through the portal. He used his foot to move the covers over and set you down on your bed. Leaving your purse and shoes on the floor next to you before leaving.

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therealslimshakespeare · 3 months ago

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Job Wanted: Bullshit Detector

Circa: April, 1944

Summary: In the wake of Ida’s miscarriage and the consequences of it, Gale Cleven is on a mission to catch the Allied serviceman who allegedly turned them all in. To do so he must spare time from his other duties, one of which he is loath to delegate. Until he recalls the perfect candidate.

Cast of Characters include: Gale Cleven, Lt. Kendeigh, Lt. Sanchez, Lt. Lu Smith, Ida Brady (discussed)

Warnings: 18+ with universe typical warnings applying. mild chapter for this universe with only referenced past torture, referenced past assault and referenced past miscarriage. 🙃 some hinted racism along with some general stalag angst and characters misinterpretations of each other, etc.

Author’s Note: this was partly inspired by learning the real Gale Cleven was sorta self appointed spy catcher in the stalag, which is very badass of him and very important

The only thing cutting through the anger for Gale was the immediate need for action. If he could not find the turncoat fucker this instant, he had to insure that he would soon. And to do so, he must spare some time from his other obligations, make up for lost evaluations, coordinate with Bucky, and even let other duties lapse. They had others who could fill in the gaps.

There was truly only one duty that chafed him in the aspect of delegating.

He chewed his cheek raw in contemplation of it, the needing of someone to fill his spot in vetting the new prisoners. While baiting out one spy, it would be unthinkable to let in a passel more. And in his time away, as punishment for Ida’s pregnancy, there had been little done in regard to vetting incoming prisoners.

The fact stood, though, Gale did not trust anyone else to be cantankerous enough, to object without arguing, poke holes without being provocative. To sniff out a fake with pure, cold blooded, bone weary cynicism for humanity.

Until he remembered her.

He tried not to remember her, as a general rule, and when they passed in the hall of the combine or when he would find her in her bunk above Smith’s or working out a detail with Kendeigh, they gave each other only the most professional of nods. An effective show of respect to appease the curiosity of those around them, watching always, and yet, he was sure they had not exchanged a single word.

But now he thought of her.

They are sat out in the mildest blizzard of the early spring, Gale and Maureen, when he chose to finally bring her up. The woman who cut him. “The fighter pilot.” he begins.

Maureen perks in the near death-like stillness around them, it’s late afternoon and miserable and so they are alone. Her Major never makes conversation for the sake of it anymore, never did much to begin with, but if he ever were to, he’d not start off with a name or a person. He’d start off talking about landscapes; all his relayed memories started that way. The color of the river, how much snow on the mountain, cedar pollen in Texas. “Sansheaz? San-, yes?” she supplies in answer to his query.

“Sanchez.”

“Yes, yes that’s right. Sanchez. Pretty name, rolls it off her tongue so fast it’s a skill in itself. Pretty woman. Lieutenant, too. What about her?” he does not make conversation so Maureen makes up for the lack with things she knows, things they both know. He counts on her chatter. They both know that, too.

“She settling in?” he ventures. It’s been months.

“Seems to be. She’s in with Smith.”

“Ah.” he knew that, she knew he knew that.

“They seem to be getting along well enough when I’ve dropped in, to look after the bite.”

“Good.” he hopes she will go on, the swipe of his thumb along her knuckle wills it so.

Maureen does. “Keeps to herself, never offered me her name. Smith and I’ve been calling her ‘Lieutenant’. But she has been helpful with roll call. Other duties. She’s an excellent officer when she bothers.”

“Good.”

“Smith likes her.”

“Lu likes everyone.”

“Not everyone.” Maureen corrects, a sudden and harsh sobriety.

“Most everyone.”

“Most. And that doesn’t make her dumb.”

“No.” Gale concedes, “No it doesn’t. But Lu does like everyone.”

“She’s got good sense about people. I’ve always trusted her on that. Except when it came to me.” Maureen, maybe growing weary of this doleful banter begins to grow wry, sardonic, morose, “No earthly reason for her to like me and it shows a complete lapse of judgment. But most other times, she’s onto something. Sanchez seems alright.”

Gale remains frowning. “Lu knows you’d die for her. Don’t know what other likability is needed around here.”

“Projecting much?” She teased, heartsick over his unwarranted loyalty.

“Maybe.” Gale is dogged, “But I know she feels that way. About you. Why wouldn’t she.”

Maureen’s thumb plays a duel with his over her knuckles, they swipe back and forth, he allows her to crush his briefly before she draws a trembling breath, lets out an anecdote he could almost feel her holding in check, “Lu saved me from a bullet in Ravensburg.”

Gale's thumb begs her to go on. He doesn’t dare meet her eyes, throw her off track. He stares at her playful thumb instead. Slightly flattened and a little off color even now the bruises have gone. The nailbed is a sickening dip of flesh where once there was smooth pink. It took months of swelling to leave before he realized they’d torn them out. Seemed he was always learning something worse.

“They were about to-to shoot Ida.” Maureen told her tale, husky voice gone soft, “ After everything they’d done to her and the scalping and- then they were going to just put her down. I didn’t know I was rushing to stop them till Smith stopped me instead. I just couldn’t imagine it -all this. Without her. Without Ida. Couldn’t just stand there. But it was stupid. Smith knew that.”

“Apparently Lu couldn’t imagine this without you.” He pointed out after a bit.

“It would’ve been awful. Wouldn’t it? All this without her.”

“Ida?”

“The colonel, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“I know she’s not, she’s not much right now but I-i couldn’t imagine it.”

Gale chewed his lip, knowing what she meant by much, knowing it was true in a terrible sort of way and it ate at Ida worse than any of them. The baby. Then the loss of the baby. All that followed. “You told her that?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“You told her that?”

“Told her what?”

“What you just told me. That this wouldn’t be bearable without her.”

Maureen blinked away the grit in her eyes, squinting at the hazy white horizon with discomfort. She had said something close to it, then delivered her dead child into the world days later like an act of gory penance. “Must I?” she sounded hoarse, and it was proof of what this place had done to her, stripped her down to, taught her harshly, that she got his buried meaning on the first try. However little she liked his suggestion, she understood it.

“Might be good to say.” he observed. “Don’t think plenty of things need sayin’ in this world that get said. Still, most things folks regret, are the unsaid.”

Ida could die. They all could die. Anyone of them could just bite it and the last inane quibble over socks or the last joke over soup would be the last sentiments ever expressed.

Or there could be a decade of this endless nothingness stretching before them consisting of nothing more notable or significant than said quibbles and jokes.

It made Maureen’s chest ache, and not from the cold. She didn’t know why that grieved her, the thought of all this being so meaningless, it grieved her as much as the thought of Ida dying, both feelings startling in their pain.

“It ain’t the end of the world to admit to someone you like that you -well, that you like them.” Gale was grinning at her, soft and compassionate, a little wicked in acknowledgement of their criminal admissions of the same to each other.

“She did so enjoy cutting me down to size.” Maureen muttured, thick and bitter and confused as flight school memories came up tangy and fresh like the blood in her bitten cheek.

“Because you were full of hot air.”

“She didn’t have to enjoy it so much.”

“Just cuttin’ ya down to somethin’ she could promote to a lieutenant.” Gale retorted, and his logic held a terrible persuasion to it.

“That was -flattering.” Maureen admitted. As confused now at Ida’s vote of confidence as she had been back then. It had first felt like a bribe, then a challenge, maybe even a commendation there near the end before -all this.

“First compliment you ever got that wasn’t given by someone kissin’ your ass, huh?” Gale leaned back against the step, pale throat bare and as white as the snow, “Still haven’t recovered, have ya?” He was snickering, or as close to it as prim and proper Gale Winston Cleven ever got, and if she wasn’t so sure he liked her, Maureen might have been terribly hurt by it. Instead she feared he was right and that was aggravating, but not new. Gale was always right. It’s why she stuck by him closer than ever these days, a harbor light in the soup of not knowing anymore.

“What are you thinking?” she changes the subject, not like how she used to with saucy annoyance or a pawing hand on his thigh. She asks because she knows he does not make small talk about people in this place. “In regards to the Lieutenant.”

“I’m thinking she’d fill in a job for me.” Gale replies, contemplative and still forcing himself to recall some of that night. Or rather, to spin the wheel of memory film from that day until it is no longer dark and burning and cruel but far enough back to when it was drizzling and bumpy and noon day with a fresh batch of prisoners and one scowling at him, casting accusations of him being a spy.

“Which one?” Maureen asks, she was asking about the jobs, not which memory. Gale snipps the tape right there on the memory of that day, just like he always did, right before it got dark and comes back to her and the front step and the blizzard that is dusting green shoots of grass by the steps.

Somewhere along the way Maureen has started to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, icy fingers twirling a comforting dance there. “Gingerale?” she calls him further to the present. Gale wonders how long he’d been gone in his mind, he’s got to be careful with that. It’s one thing for her to notice, but if he starts with her, he might start lapsing with others, and he cannot. He simply cannot. So he gathers himself, lets the nickname ricochet around his skull until its sweet tease knocks out the ghastly replay of grunts and laughs, thinks about her fingers and the way she still loves to play with his hair while she plays with his heart, the way she encourages him to breathe when she touches him, nothing like the way the others nearly strangled him.

Then he thinks about catching the fucking rat that had the craven gall to turn them all in. That had Bucky beaten like that, had Ida kept to bleed out in the fucking cooler after miscarrying, that had Gale upping his concessions to the doctor, concessions that always somehow cost Captain John Brady more than him. He thinks about finding that rat, asking if the extra smoke or blanket or empty promise of an exchange was worth betraying his friends. He thinks about that, he thinks about snapping the fucker’s neck.

“Spy Master.” he grins back at Maureen in the here and now, genuinely happy to have thought of it for Sanchez, and there is after a moment, a look of such stunned concurrence on her face, he knows she knows it is wise. And he knows she knows why.

It is evening time when he acts, and he’d have rather done this in daylight but the evening chores keep everyone occupied, away from the combine even during the snowstorm.

It offers his only opportunity for real privacy. He intended to find Sanchez in the hall or on one such chore and ask for a moment. But he doesn’t see her, instead he stalls Lu on the steps as she heads for the kitchen, “Where’s Sanchez at?” he asks her as if he commonly inquires after the fighter pilot.

“In bed.” The furrow of Lu’s brows ask all sorts of questions her rank and regulation rule book constrain her from voicing.

“She sick?”

“Happens -cyclically.” Smith provides, and if he were unable to guess at the intended meaning, the blanch in Lu’s cheek’s at the mention of the ailment tells Gale Cleven that Lieutenant Sanchez is abed menstruating.

“Right. Save me a turnip.” he teases as he continues past her, swimming upstream of the men in the hallway leaving for dinner, and working his way towards her room.

She is sat alone at its table, bent over her work which seems to be the hem of a trouser leg, spread out on the table top and being subjected to row upon row of rhythmic stitches. There is a bean sack propped behind her back, he can see it through the slats. He would think it a pillow for support if he couldn’t smell the nauseating aroma of burnt dried lentils. He imagines the damn thing is heated and feels a wave of wistful admiration for the design.

It must not be his footsteps in the quieting combine so much as his looming presence after a moments observance that has her suddenly snapping her head up in appraisal of his company. Her eyes are as hard as he remembers and her scrutiny off putting, he is glad that memory is not warped. It will serve his purpose, it will aid in her new job. He is never sure what about her he remembers or invented or blended into Smith. Not even having Lu present can undo the tangle, he has been too cautious of looking Sanchez in the face to compare the difference.

He looks now. Because she does not move, nod, or rise as befits his rank, all the motions she goes through when others are around. She seems aware of the empty combine as keenly as him and her full concentration is on staring him down. He is glad he didn’t try this sooner, to swing by and exchange urbane pleasantries with someone who must find his very existence a burr in the memory. Just as she is to him. There is nothing to account for, no friendship to patch up, no harm to be forgiven. It is senseless to reconnect as there was no true connection. Even if he feels something heated and horrid thrumming between them even now.

“Spare a minute?” he asks her, and Major Cleven’s voice comes easily to his disposal, and he is glad of it.

He does not wait for her invite, as a major he does not need it. He walks past the threshold like it’s any other day and he’s here to inquire about Lu or make sure the poor drowned girl hasn’t passed. She is still in her bunk but there is no life there despite the heartbeat. They are alone. In Gale’s mind, they are alone.

“Sir.” Sanchez gives it to him right as he pulls out a chair and helps himself to it. Near her, but not too near. Not even he could stomach that. The sight of her hands make his gut twist oddly and he panics at the thought he might shake apart from some unwarranted recollection.

Tilled earth heaping against his face. Furrows cut from her nails.

“Smith said I might find ya here.” he informs, easy, normal. “Not hungry?”

“No.” she looks like she expects something awful. Her eyes are unblinking and still harsh, even this near. Perhaps Maureen is right and she is beautiful but he wants to shudder all the same. He can spot the difference now, between Lu’s eyes and her’s.

“Good work.” he comments on the pant leg, gesturing to it.

It makes her drop her gaze for the first time, a quick glance at the needle under her thumb, the ratty row of hem she is repairing. She looks back up, incredulous almost, he thinks, and at least that guarded expression has finally shifted. He watches some resignation come over her, filtered through annoyance when her full lips tightly peel back from her teeth and she responds as if forced with a: “Cannot let your young captain do all of it.”

Brady, he realizes she means Brady. Lu and Brady, that’s all he’s seen this woman really converse with. And Maureen. As lieutenants. “No we can’t.” he agrees. “Appreciate the help.” he wonders if her time of the month makes her more volatile or just miserable, he wants to laugh at choosing his timing so poorly, not only going into the Lion’s den but doing so when they’re hungry. She does not acknowledge that Gale thanked her, she just dares him to finish this.

He does, and again, Major Cleven finds a small smile to present with his offer, “I’ve got a job for you.”

Whatever she expected, it wasn’t that, apparently. Surprise looks awfully thunderous on her but it is surprise all the same, a chink in the armor. “Sir?”

“I have a particular case of business to attend to.” he entrusts her with this, “It will take me away from other duties. I have excellent deputies, they will fill them with ease.” He lets that hang there, baiting a reply.

“Your lieutenants are perfectly able women.” it is as if she is defending them to him, he wants to smile at the slip of loyalty. She only mentions the women, she must think he is here because she is a surplus female.

“I’ve got a job that doesn't require anything but a bullshit detector.” he replies, puts it out there as if tangibly on the table between them, “Something plenty of lieutenants, male and female, haven’t got for shit.”

“Sir.” it’s the least interested question ever, she is tired of him, unimpressed and unflattered and he doesn’t even think the question would deserve a question mark if in written form. He has never been more soothed at his choice.

“Need you to vet incoming prisoners.” he spells it out, “Spycatcher.” he abbreviates. He told Maureen the whole of his ambition for her skills, but here and now he’ll ease it out to her.

Even so, it cracks the facade, if only briefly, intrigue and perhaps a flicker of want flashes in dark eyes before they squint at him in suspicion. “Have you even taken that precaution before?”

“Yes.” he defends.

“Poor job of it.”

That stings but she’s not wrong. “Yeah. Apparently.”

“So you’re passing the responsibility to someone else?”

“You would be my representative, my deputy, given my authority in the matter.” Gale watches closely and gets little in the way of feedback, “We can’t stop prisoners from coming in, obviously, but we can isolate the ones we know or suspect. Trust the others. What happened with you. We know you’re trustworthy now. And I’m offerin’ you this as it suits your talents.”

A crushing suspicion of humanity’s worst intentions was an odd talent but he considered it such. He hoped she’d not think him facetious.

“You don’t think I’m the rat?”

Gale frowned, surprise creasing his face, “No. Not for a minute. The child is out, it’s dead, it-“ so much has changed, first the miscarriage and now the punishments, it’s a whole new landscape and it’s tedious and awful and if the SS do come and take over as threatened, it will be made horrific. “-the reasons to exclude you are over. I need good men, I need good officers. I need someone to take this job. Someone else takes it and it’s you at stake, too. You want a spy bunking above you?”

Sanchez looks angry again, but it is a passive, sour sort. He braces when her lips begin to move, “If you want someone duplicitous enough to drag information from unwilling individuals -you should offer the post to your lady colonel.”

That's not the post. The post is that of prime bulshit sniffer. But this anger poses another issue and his mind flits over it anxiously. “What’ve you got against Colonel Brady?” he sighs.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Don’t play at insubordination, Lieutenant.”

“She-“ Sanchez began with venom before suddenly reeling back her voice, her expression, everything, it was eerie in a way, “-I would never have told her.” she began again, “But she made me think she knew, and then she pulled her fucking rank, and I told her. And if you are here to learn the full of it -there. I told her about you. Because she deceived me. Offer this job to her.”

Gale stared at the pants hem, regaining his thoughts. Ida knew. He knew she did but, she’d heard it from the source and he knew she did but— “She’s a colonel. She’s my colonel. She’s got a right to know. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

“Of course I did not. She tricked me.”

“You’d have lied to her?”

“About that? Yes. None of her fucking business.”

“She’s our colonel-“

“Not mine!”

“She is our superior.” that went uncontested and Gale went on having gained that victory, measured and speaking to himself as if he could somehow conduct his reasoning over to Sanchez, “She had a right to know. And no one fuckin’ blames you. Not if you told the truth. Did you? You tell her why you cut me? That you thought I was gonna join in? Was gonna dishonor you?”

Sanchez was at war with herself, and in that terrible conflict she seemed half in want of an ally in Gale, and yet- “You think she believes me? If I were to tell her I thought you were capable of that? You? Who she knows and loves and praises? Jesus Christ in a fucking flight suit? You think she’d take a strangers’ excuse over her knowledge of your character? She wanted a reason to distrust me and she found it.”

Gale thought he saw guilt, well masked by fury but there all the same. Sanchez, he surmised, was sorry now she knew him. Sorry like she hadn’t been when they were being ground into the dirt, sorry like she wasn’t when he was lying on Benny’s thigh in the truck bed after, sorry like she wasn’t when he handed her the penicillin.

“Ida wasn’t mad at you for cuttin’ me.” he knew it, like he knew his own thoughts on it, he was so sure of Ida, “She was mad you didn’t say you knew me. That you knew of me before this place.”

“It’s not her’s to know.” Her voice had gone soft, defensive but burnt out.

“She’s a colonel.” Gale disagreed even as his own pride smarted horribly at the thought of being so known by someone so -Ida. He knew Ida also blamed him for not saying. “And she’s a good one to have on your side.”

Something else seemed to be on her mind, her eyes left his face to contemplate the bunk opposite. “You think your men will like having a brown woman vet them?”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m givin’ the job to the most capable…man…I can find.”

“They’ll hate it.”

Gale’s lips twitched. “You tellin’ me you’d mind that? Gonna ruin some social scene ya got goin’ here?”

Her breath came out harsh and he suspected if she were like Ida or Kendeigh, that would have been a laugh. It seemed to take her by surprise as much as him. “You’d -you would back me.” she pinned him with her gaze, hesitancy only in her words.

“Always. You��d be my deputy, Lieutenant.” she actually nodded when he said that, like she was considering, accepting maybe, he wasn’t sure. He knew she’d like the job. She had to be going nuts in here with only pant legs to hem. “It’s a critical job. And you could sit down for it.” he added right as he decided to stand up; her face looked briefly stunned.

Seemed like a good place to end this, on a high note, even if the high was a tiny ant hill: all in comparison to the morass they were in when he first entered this room.

“Yeah?” He asked her to accept.

“Sir.” she nodded.

“Thank you, for taking the job, Lieutenant.” Gale thumped the table once in adieu, she was still staring him down.

He’d made it back to the door when he heard her, “I really thought you -were.” the last word held such meaning in her tone he knew exactly what she meant, she was remembering too, she was recalling how she’ had sliced him open, furious as a wild cat. She had really thought he was capable of the worst. “Why would you think I’m a good judge.”

Gale stalled, hand grasping the wooden doorframe and looked back at her over his shoulder, Major Cleven managed to give the troops a grin, “Didn't say I needed a good one, just a suspicious one.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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