Fabula Prima

New Alexandria is an ideal location for your line of work. For all the physicality that the UNSC demands, its various members are starved for the kind of touch humans need. They come to you desperate for a bit of comfort, some fazed and some unfazed by the prospect of paying for it. Some seem to prefer it like this. You’ve been at it long enough now that you’ve learned how to estimate their length of service–in the eyes and the cheeks and the hands. Some of them cry, and those are the clients you prefer. It takes a little bit out of you, so it feels more like they’re getting their money’s worth.

John doesn’t cry. And his cheeks are not hollow. His hands are massive, but not aged with sunspots. His hang-dog eyes hurt your heart, but you tuck that away to process some other time, once he’s stopped making appointments. His scars are so symmetrical in places, you long assumed that it was purposeful decoration, maybe a cultural thing. But then apropos of absolutely nothing, like the universe was just itching to correct your mistake, a friend mentions that Spartans have those scars. Those lay-lines of enhancement, demarcating the parts and portions of a human body like old butchering diagrams, only serve to emphasize the unnatural build of him. You look but you do not intentionally touch.

He maintains the same decorum that all long-term service members do–the even way he hangs his jacket on your coat rack, the military efficiency of removing his boots, the curt nods at each progressive step of the evening. You give your clients options: sofa or bed, clothes or underwear, quiet or conversational. Most of them prefer to be held, some of them like to do the holding. John has tried all of the permutations, excepting conversational. If it’s a routine sort of evening, he’ll stay clothed and play the big spoon. His hold is secure but not suffocating, and always respectful. Sometimes it feels like you’ll burst out crying if you don’t turn around and face him and ask him if his heart’s alright. But you never turn and you never cry and you never ask him about his feelings; it wouldn’t be professional.

If he’s been gone for a very long time, he’ll arrive, remove his boots, and peel his shirt off after. Sometimes he looks like he'd peel his skin off, if he could. On those nights, you lay down with his heavy head in your lap, fingers in the short fuzz of his hair, and scratch his scalp until he falls asleep.

John pays twice your going rate and he spends the whole night. It’s the best sleep you get, on or off the clock–you try not to look directly at that fact. You try not to look directly at him, if you can help it. With years’ of experience comes the certain knowledge of how quickly affection sneaks in through the gaps in professionalism. Too long spent staring at the right person’s sleeping face and the whole enterprise comes crumbling down. You limit yourself to three seconds at a time with him, and even that feels dangerous. But his money spends, and he’s a perfect client, so you soldier on.

He always smells of soap, those vaguely powdery notes that blend smoothly into whatever musk he naturally produces. Clean, old-fashioned, domestic. He runs hot as a furnace, and no matter how tidy he arrives, the perennial stubble on his cheek and chin grits against the fabric of your shirt when he lays in your arms. His hair’s soft velvet that buzzes against your nails and his heart pounds hard and steady as hoof beats. If he’s a Spartan, like you suspect, then he spends most of his life suited up like a machine. But stripped of it all, he’s more animal than man, burrowing for warmth and the touch of skin and you wonder what his mother was like. Did she cradle him in the dip of her elbow and sing sweet nothings? Did she know that she was raising a weapon? He’s so unfathomably large, enacts a gravity all by himself, that you almost laugh to imagine him as an infant. But then you see his lashes fanned out on his cheek while he sleeps and the little boy in him is clear as day. 

These are more intimate thoughts than you’re owed, but you’ll not give them up for anything. Here, in the quiet sanctuary of your overstuffed, over-blanketed bed, no one can take away the secret yearning for things you can’t quite put a name to. It’s not about fucking, no matter how many winks and nudges are tossed your way when you mention what you do for a living. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck him, if the circumstances were right, built for it as he is. But it’s an afterthought, if you’re honest, something off in the periphery of your heart’s desire. And it’s not that it’s professional, rather than personal. You’d do it for free, at this point, but it means no less to you just because it’s a business arrangement. The service is how he found you and all that matters is that he found you.

It’s in the keeping, you decide. You want to keep him. But that’s a sure road to heartbreak. He’s the last person you’re allowed to keep. He belongs to a duty that you can’t possibly understand. He is no one’s to keep, not even his own. He is vessel and implement and you must always give him back when playtime is over. Worst of all, he doesn’t even seem to mind. You want to see a lingering look in his eyes, a little bit of reluctance that he must leave the nest of sleep-warm sheets. But his stoicism is part of the charm. He will always leave and he will never complain.

“Pops always said the key was adding a splash of merlot to the broth.”

Pride swelled up in her to watch his eyes close after the first bite, to see him grip his fork a little tighter.

“I think Pops was right,” he hummed low, wasting no time before taking a second bite. “Pops…is that your dad?”

“Grandfather,” she clarified around a too-hot carrot. “He raised me. And he was a great cook.”

“He’s not around anymore?”

“He is!” She’d just visited him earlier in the week. “He’s Mr. Popular at his retirement community. Just doesn’t do a lot of cooking these days.”

“That’s nice, that you still have him. That he passed on recipes.”

Annie was almost certain that Pops would be fascinated by John. For all that he had staunchly supported her, he didn’t understand her line of work one bit. But he loved people and their journeys. He’d be a rapt audience, eager to hear about John’s life. But his heart would break for him, too. Pops was a sentimental guy like that.

She knew from reading through Kai’s files that Spartans were orphans, inducted into the program because they had nowhere else to go. But did John remember the people that brought him into this world? Did he know anything about where he started? It was likely too tender a subject for now, but she wanted to know all of it.

“He’d like you. Pops. He always says that manners make the man, so he’d love your whole polite stoicism thing.”

John’s frown was more curiosity than any real offense. “Is that my thing?”

“It’s one of them.” She took a sip of iced tea and thought on it a moment. “The military bearing, maybe? I mean it as a compliment, it’s part of your charm.”

He looked down at his plate with a shrug. “Nothing special about it. Just years of training.”

“Still. Training requires dedication. Competence.” There was something old-fashioned about him that always made it seem like he cared enough to put in effort. “Good qualities to have.”

She was well aware that he didn’t have a choice as far as the training went. He was recruited and indoctrinated and stripped of his sense of self. But he still managed to persevere. Had the wherewithal and courage to remove that damned pellet, to open his life back up. That wasn’t nothing.

But he was so clearly uncomfortable with so much direct praise, so he steered the conversation elsewhere. “What’s your favorite thing of your grandfather’s to cook?”

“Lemon meringue pie.” It was an easy answer; it had always been her favorite to help him make, even when she was little. Smooth lemony custard and buttery crust and a mile-tall pile of meringue that got all toasty in the oven. “I don’t really bake, but that was his specialty, so I make the exception.”

He swallowed his last bite of food— god, he’d worked through that fast —and tilted his head curiously. “Meringue?”

“Yeah, it’s like…fluffy stuff? Kinda sweet. Made with egg whites.” She almost said “like marshmallows,” but could hardly imagine he knew about marshmallows either.

He didn’t look entirely convinced of the concept, but he nodded. “Learn something new every five minutes these days. Feels like I’ll never catch up.”

Squeezing his forearm reassuringly, she stood. “You want some more? There’s plenty left.”

But he stood, too, and waved her back down with a smile as he stepped into the kitchen. It sent something warm winding through her—that he was comfortable enough to serve himself, to feel somewhat at-home. But then he returned with such a small portion.

“John. C’mon, that’s like, three bites. I know there’s a huge roast in there, take what you like.”

He looked a little sheepish but shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re being too polite.”

“You just said you like when I’m polite, that it’s charming.”

She had to pout to keep from laughing, but he didn’t hold back his own chuckle, complete with crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Last night, she’d laid in bed, wrapped up in his jacket, thinking about those very lines. The way they fanned out like rays of sunlight.

She was right there on a precipice, digging her heels in as best she could while she still had some semblance of self-control. But she could feel the falling sensation tugging at her, the inevitable gravity of how she already felt. Not yet. She took a steadying breath and another bite and asked about his limited familiarity with pie.

And when they were both finished, she insisted on clearing the table, much to his frustration.

“Can I help with the dishes, at least?”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Guests aren’t supposed to help, but I’ll let you dry them off if it makes you feel better.”

“It would , thank you.” Usually, his movements were exact. Efficient. Maybe it was the warm meal, or maybe he’d had a long day, but he seemed different. Not exactly tired, just…loose. Still, when they finished the task, he folded the dish towel neatly, hung it from the handle of the stove, and adjusted the corners until they fell evenly. Part of his charm.

For her own part, she shut the cabinets and wiped the counter down one last time, and when there was nothing left to busy herself with, she turned to face him. “Do you need to get back to the barracks or can you stay for a while?”

“I can stay.” Even one of his tentative steps was a longer stride than hers, nearly crossing the whole width of the kitchen. But he was still just out of reach, eyes darting and landing everywhere but on her.

She closed the distance, wanting desperately to touch him, any little part of him. He hardly seemed real, sometimes. But something held her back; her heels digging in just before the cliff’s edge approached. She needed something to sober herself a little.

“Can I ask you something?”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Of course.”

What are we? What are we doing? Am I a fool if I let myself have this? Am I being absurd for even wondering?

“If we’re doing this,” she gestured between them, trying desperately to find some sensible words as her mind started fogging up. “Dates and dinners and–and kissing like you kissed me last night. What are you looking for in all of it?” She swallowed the wild, vulnerable anxiety that was crawling up her throat. “What do you need? From me?”

When he pulled in a deep breath, he seemed to double in size. Must be a sight on the field of battle. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself and scrubbed the back of his neck. Tried again. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” His voice sounded a little strained when he finally spoke. “Nothing did the trick. Listed star systems to myself, showered twice…almost busted a punching bag open in the gym. But it didn’t help.” She caught the twitch of his cheek, something she’d seen before when he was frustrated. “I’d close my eyes and see that red dress and your hair,” he closed his eyes then, as if to summon the same image, “and I don’t understand it. How a mind can be so preoccupied.”

She wanted to believe that it meant something. But she was a scientist, for better or worse, and so hesitant to let herself hope too much. “Hormones will do that.” The poor man was drowning in them, no doubt.

“Yeah, maybe.” He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. “Maybe that’s all any of it is, for everyone. Just chemicals and electrical impulses, like Cortana says.”

His stare said differently, wide and shining and desperate, but he was right. Attraction and affection and love might all be arbitrary, no matter how much experience a body had with them. “Doesn’t make it any less incredible.”

He took half a step forward then, hands reaching out but halting. “Exactly. Some part of me picked you. It could just as easily have been someone else, but some part of me that I don’t even know yet…” Staring hard and sure at nothing off in the distance, he came to some kind of realization. “You asked me what I need. I don’t know. I’ve never had needs, needs are things you can’t survive without. I always survive. But I can feel wantingnow, and I can’t think straight for it.”

She ducked, trying to catch his line of sight. “What do you want , then?”

He didn’t answer out loud, but she saw his eyes flick down to her lips, sure as any movement he’d made all evening. It didn’t tell her if this was all going to be a stunning experiment, a chance for him to learn and her to indulge. Or if it would take root and grow and last . But she couldn’t stall her heart any longer, so she started gently.

Just her fingers up and along his forearms. A light, testing touch to see if he startled. When he lifted his own hands to graze against the soft inside of her forearms…well, she reckoned he’d do just fine. But he mistook her smile for laughter, his cheek twitching briefly in something like embarrassment.

“I don’t know what–”

Hasty to reassure him, her hands moved faster, smoothing the rest of the way up his arms until they settled firm on his shoulders, the great big breadth of them. She toyed with the lumpy hem of his collar. “You’re good, John. Does it feel good?”

He nodded.

“Then it’s good.” She slid her hands down to his chest, suddenly all too aware of how solid it felt, a wall of muscle with a drumbeat heart beneath. It seemed like a cosmic gotcha; this big, beautiful, inexperienced man staring at her, eager to learn and to please. Any minute now, someone would shake her awake and laugh when she recounted the dream that had seemed so real. But in the meantime, she’d keep trying to get those rays around his eyes to appear.

“I don’t mind leading here.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, sock-to-sock. “Just talk to me? If it’s overwhelming? Or under whelming?”

He nodded calmly enough, but his chest rose and fell beneath her hands, heart thumping hard and fast. So she moved in slowly to kiss him. Rose onto the tips of her toes and started by fitting their lips together. She could feel the air puff out of his nose and marveled at how affected he seemed. Another moment passed and she tried sucking gently on his bottom lip until the air from his nose came out in a great heated sigh. She couldn’t help smiling right there against his mouth. “You can kiss back, if you like.” And bless him for a quick study, he did exactly as she’d done, sucking her bottom lip snug between his. He was so much slower than he was on their date, and she wondered what circumstances had made him bolder then. But she reveled in this careful pace, here in her kitchen, where every little movement felt spectacular.

She smoothed one of her hands up along his neck until she could reach the nape of it, thumb against the shell of his ear. “You have a nice mouth, you know?”

He shook his head and her nails scratched gently against his scalp at the movement. “I didn’t know.” With her free hand, she brushed her thumb across his lips until he opened them to speak again. “You have dimples.”

Her smile was automatic, and while she didn’t do it on purpose, she knew it would summon the little divots in her cheeks. But she didn’t know that he’d lean in to kiss one. Her heart squeezed tight at the contact and flooded back open as his lips traveled along her jaw, beneath her ear, and pressed firmly against her neck. He stayed there a moment, breathing in deep, and it was intolerable, the static proximity of him, buzzing with energy. But he must have needed it, so she held perfectly still. Moved only the fingers of her right hand, petting the velvety stubble at the back of his head until he came back to her with heavy-lidded eyes.

He was a grown man that kissed like a hungry teenaged boy—hardly any rhythm to it, no finesse, no coordination. But there was force and desperation and a kind of vulnerability that left Annie’s knees weak. Who didn’t want to be kissed like living depended on it? Like separating might kill you both? She held tight around his thick neck in an effort to reach him, to meet his spit-slick tongue and reddening lips with her own. But then his hand landed on the small of her back—thumb to pinky spanning the whole width of her—and she had an idea.

“Set me on the counter,” she panted, pulling away from his mouth with a soft squelch. “Wanna reach you better.” He did as she asked and left his hands heavy on her waist, tethering her precisely where she was. Fists in his t-shirt, she all but tugged him back to continue where they’d left off. But this time, she set the pace. Sucked on his tongue and bit his plump bottom lip and ran fingertips along his ear and jaw and neck where scars and tendons and fine muscles twitched.

“Do you run warm?” A simple curiosity snuck in with a stolen breath. He didn’t bother pulling away to answer, just hummed and nodded and sank his fingers into her tangle of curls. “ God that’s nice.” She scooted closer to the edge of the counter, until she had to separate her knees to make room for the bulk of him. It was worth the brazen position to press close to his chest. “I’m always pulling on sweaters and blankets, but you’re like a furnace.”

“I can keep you warm,” mumbled right there against her mouth.

She couldn’t even be ashamed of the whimper that eked out of her throat. He’d keep her warm. Overwhelmed by the simple sincerity of him, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck again and got near enough to hook her ankles together behind his legs, like if she could just get near enough to him, she could keep him.

“Sounds so nice,” she muttered, breaking away from his mouth to kiss along the underside of his jaw, to nip at his earlobe. “Could just tuck in right here.” Into the clean sweat and warm cotton smell of him.

“Annie.”

His nose dragged across her cheek as he brought her face back to his.

“Hm?”

Her tongue licked against his as they set to their shared consumption, messy and eager and chafing until he remembered that he had something to say.

“This is what I need.”

His sandpaper stubble and her too-sharp canine and his great big hands that ran down the sides of her like tremors. She needed it too, the hungry little sounds and the budding sweat at her hairline and the shocking newness of it. God , it felt good just to kiss, to try and drink each other up.

Yes, she needed it too, just as much as he did.

Needed his stuttered breathing and his sudden groan and his shivering under her hands.

“ Fuck .”

The curse cut through her haze and she leaned back. “You okay?”

“I fucking–” He blinked his own daze away as he panted and shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know a lot , but I know that’s not good.”

She still didn’t understand…and then he looked pointedly down between them. As soon as it registered, she gave him a few inches of space. But he looked utterly bewildered, fully back inside his head. Her own lusty fog lingered, left her bleary-eyed and a little mindless. But she put both hands on his chest and hummed and kissed the corner of his mouth, eager to reassure him. “It’s good.” She moved one palm up to his cheek. “You’ve been deprived of this for your entire adult life. Of course it’s gonna hit you hard.” She kissed his neck just above his collar, flushed and almost-damp with sweat. “Just gotta practice.”

Irritated as he remained, the prospect of practice seemed to settle him some. “Still embarrassing. I’ve lived around Marines long enough to know it’s embarrassing. Are you still sure about this?”

Leaning back, she frowned. “About what? You?”

“About all of it. Man in his 40s going through second puberty. You’ve gotta have better prospects out there.”

She smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt–ones she’d put there with her own clenched grip–and tutted at him. “You haven’t learned this about me yet, but I’m kind of relentless when I set my sights on something. They called me the Master Chief of my psych department in grad school.”

All the tension melted from his face in an instant with a startled, snorted laugh. “Did they?”

“No, I just wanted you to relax.” Now that she had access to him, she couldn’t help the hundred little touches. ‘Better prospects’ her ass . “But I’m sure about this. You trust me?”

It felt like he was staring into her soul. Like she was being weighed and measured by some standards she could never imagine. But then he tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded.

“Good.” She finally thought to kiss his nose–seemed a shame she’d waited so long. But there’d be plenty of daydreams to revisit now. “Let’s get your stuff washed. Should have a beach towel that’s about your size for you to wear in the meantime. I’d offer the sweatpants Ben left here, but you’re not gonna fit into those.”

The first workout was awkward, his movements too powerful and his effort overdone. But the second workout, once he had more awareness of his new skeleton and strength? Transcendent. He understood why all of the Spartans-in-training had been taught strategy and philosophy upfront, before the physical augmentation. If left unchecked, the power rush of his new self could have resulted in a monster. But he’d been trained for this. He knew that it came with responsibility and demanded unwavering self-control. And with a clever little pellet at the base of his spine, that self-control came with remarkable ease.

Now it was gone. And while he was plenty used to the power of his body, he was not used to its senses. Once more, he felt like a fourteen year old boy, overwhelmed by the muchness he contained, ready to burst. Overwhelmed by soft lips and fingers curved around the back of his neck. He walked back to the barracks in a daze, his fingers twitching at his sides as if their business had been left unfinished. When he arrived, only Riz remained awake, sat in a quiet corner, illuminated by her datapad.

“Good date, Chief?”

It took him an embarrassingly long time to register what she was asking. “Restaurant was too fancy. But otherwise it was…perfect.”

Her smile was slow to start and unfailingly warm. Of all the members of Silver Team, Riz’s face showed the most affection when she felt it. “Second date?”

“God I hope so.”

He could hear the longing in his voice, so he couldn’t blame her for giggling. “Get a goodnight kiss?”

“Two of them.”

She nodded like she knew something he didn’t and waved away his worry. “You’ll get a second date. Good job, Chief.”

It was a brief distraction from the restless sensation coursing through him, but when she turned back to her datapad, he let her be. The barracks seemed desolate in comparison to what he’d been surrounded by all night, the sights and sounds of it all. Grabbing a t-shirt and sweatpants to change into, he headed into the showers with the thousand colors of civilian life still running through his head. And most distinct among them, red . That deep, dark red that clung and draped and fluttered around her so every step of hers exhilarated him.

He stood, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying to sort out what she saw in him that warranted so much care and affection. It was self-deprecation so much as plain curiosity. Was there some feature that he couldn’t see the truth of? Did she stare at any part of him like he did her dimples?

“Should we debrief the date?”

It was rare that he forgot about Cortana, but his thoughts had been so far elsewhere that her voice surprised him. “No. I don’t want to treat it like that.” Annie wasn’t a mission.

“Then we could just talk about it. Your cortisol and adrenaline levels are elevated, as is your heart rate. You’re not likely to sleep well like this.”

He wasn’t surprised to hear any of that, given how he felt primed to jump out of his skin. “A shower will help.”

“The kiss with Annie was different from the one with Makee, wasn’t it? Your body and your brain reacted much differently.”

Makee came to him like some kind of destiny that he was supposed to feel but never quite did. Kissing Annie was all feeling, upfront. “You’re smart, Cortana, I’m sure you know why.”

“Yes. I don’t fully understand it, but I believe it’s what the literature calls ‘chemistry.’ As a pair, you seem to have a lot of it.”

“Then why don’t I feel satisfied?”

“Satisfaction requires a person to have enough of something. You’re not satisfied because you’ve not had enough of her. Logically, that seems to be how romantic interest is sustained. If you like her enough, perhaps you will never feel satisfied. Is it an unpleasant feeling?”

“No.” Actually, it relieved him. The idea of something that wouldn’t come to an end might be nightmarish for some, but it comforted him. “I don’t care for the restless sensation, though.”

“Your body is in a state of arousal. Perhaps release would help.”

“Release?”

“Masturbation. I can already hear you mentally protesting, but it’s effective and perfectly normal and has health benefits.”

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “I know that, I’m mentally protesting because I have no privacy.”

“You have private quarters now.”

“I’m not talking about Silver Team. I have no privacy in my head.” It wasn’t Cortana’s fault. He hoped she knew that he didn’t blame her for that anymore.

“I see.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, I’ll take a shower and go to bed and I’ll be fine.”

But the shower was useless. He lay in bed, eyes wide open, thinking about her dimples. And the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was concentrating on something. And the warm slide of her tongue.

He sat up and took a deep breath. Cortana was right—he wouldn’t be getting any sleep. So he tried the gym. Tried cardio and weightlifting and even punching the heavy bag until he realized its seam was starting to split from his wailing on it. But he remained restless, ready to split at his own seams.

So he went for a long walk through the park, singularly focused on breathing the cool air in and out steadily. And when he had walked the entire jogging circuit, he rode the metro back to FLEETCOM, bouncing his knee the whole time. But instead of returning to the barracks, he headed to his private quarters to admit the defeat of his self-control.

Cortana once explained that some people had “hang-ups” about sexual activities. Something that was socialized into some and not into others, there was no real biological basis for it. And since he hadn’t been socialized to consider sex at all, he didn’t feel any hang-ups about it. Did he feel inexperienced? Sure. Uninformed? Somewhat. He’d lived his whole life around Marines–it was impossible not to absorb the basics. But he felt no particular embarrassment.

It was the voice in his head that threw him off. The blue one that was ready with tips and information. The one that meant well but made it difficult to let his mind roam.

He closed the door to his room and headed to the bathroom. His earlier shower had gone to waste in the gym, after all, and it seemed like the most efficient location. “Alright, I’m going to take your advice.” He had to, his skin felt too tight and his thoughts were caught in a loop. “I know you can’t actually leave, just…whatever the closest thing to privacy is, that’s what I need.”

“We’ll call it sleep mode.”

He nodded as he undressed and folded his clothes neatly. The shower was smaller than the ones in the barracks, but he found he preferred it. The lights weren’t so sharp and cold and instead of stark gray concrete walls, the room was painted a soft shade of green that eased his eyes. The shower was stocked with the same standard-issue soap he was used to, so he went through the muscle memory motions of cleaning himself before addressing the buzz that thrummed beneath his skin.

He’d done this before on the very rare occasion that arousal cropped up before pellet removal. And he’d been tempted a few times since getting rid of it. But the desperation had never been so intense, so unrelenting as it was tonight. Just the bare act of washing himself left him hard and aching. The memory of Annie’s hand on his neck . What would her hands feel like, there across his stomach instead of his own? Would they be small and careful against his chest, down his thighs? Would she move efficiently or take her time? He tried curving his fingers along his neck like she had– not nearly the same . Then he brought them to his lips. Lips that had touched hers.

He wrapped his other hand around his dick and nearly groaned in relief. Then he remembered where he was, that no one could hear him, and let the next groan tumble out loud. It took a few tries to find a rhythm and pressure he liked. But the human instinct to find pleasure went a long way. And the color of Annie’s dress. And her curls slipping between his fingers. And her slick tongue. “Oh shit.”

It hit like a plasma rifle to the chest.

Left him heavy and sated.

He dried off in a mind-numbed haze, slid into the cool sheets of his overly soft bed, and asked Cortana to set an alarm for morning PT.

Her voice was self-satisfied as he started to drift toward sleep. “You got it, Chief.”

–

She slept in his jacket. It wasn’t purposeful; in fact, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. All she managed to remove before falling into bed were her heels. But the adrenaline had worn off so suddenly after he left and his jacket smelled like him and it was so easy to wrap her arms around herself…

She woke to her alarm with lipstick smeared on her pillow and one side of her curls squashed flat against her cheek. It took a moment to realize where she was and why she felt over-dressed, but then she remembered. And the first thing she did was grin.

The rest of her morning routine happened in such a dopey daze that she left her coffee at home, which meant settling for the office’s mediocre brew. She was still smiling from the sight of the peppermint tea bags and the memory of her first encounter with John as she walked back to her office. But she stopped in her tracks at the sound of her name.

“Dr. Dryden, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Detour . “Of course.”

Matson would have made a spectacular school principal in another life. That calm gravitas immediately commanded respect. “How are things with Kai going?”

“Very well, I think.” Annie clasped her hands behind her back as she was always tempted to do in Matson’s presence. It was tricky to give an assessment without disclosing information, so she chose her words carefully. “She’s a very engaged patient.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I spoke with Dr. Keyes earlier today and she expressed her satisfaction with the program thus far. But she did mention something that gives me pause.”

Oh god, were they pulling the plug on the program? It had been long enough now to evaluate how effective their work had been. Were the Spartans dissatisfied in some way? Or maybe the job had been done well enough and they felt they were finished. Trying to swallow her worries, Annie nodded for Matson to continue.

“It's been brought to her attention that John is dating. You, apparently.”

Annie had checked every rule and law in every relevant handbook in anticipation of this precise moment. There was nothing to be worried about. But that didn’t stop her palms from sweating as she decided how best to approach the accusation. Because Matson kept her face very neutral, but her voice betrayed the slightest hint of concern.

“We have been on a date, yes. There are no mandates against it.” She had made sure of that. “Unless Spartans aren’t allowed to pursue romantic relationships.”

“No, there are no mandates against it. I’m not worried about mandates. I’m not worried about anything , really. I just wanted to open up a line of communication about it.”

Sometimes it was painfully obvious that all of her coworkers were therapists. “Sure. It’s probably best to have it out in the open.”

“Yes, well. Do you expect it to be a sustained relationship? Or was it a singular date?”

Part of Annie felt like pointing out that it was none of Matson’s business, but the other part of her suspected this was her boss’s version of girl talk. And then all of her realized that she didn’t actually know the answer to the question. They had parted in such a haze at the end of the night.

“Sustained. I hope. It was a nice date.” Finally, unable to stand the formality of the conversation for a moment longer, she unclasped her hands and stepped forward. “I know this is a strange arrangement, your underling dating a patient.”

“Annie, I don’t think of you as an underling.”

It was bizarre to hear the woman use her first name. Bizarre and heartening. Maybe she wasn’t upset after all.

“I know, that’s not what I meant. You’re my superior and far more experienced, so I defer to your professional opinions. And I respect your personal ones. If you have reservations about this, I understand. But I want to see this through.” What exactly she was seeing through was still a matter of debate. But that kiss . Yes, she’d see it through.

–

He hadn’t let himself dwell on the overwhelming urge to send Annie a message, partly because he didn’t know where to begin. Talking to her in person was one of the easiest things he’d ever experienced. Writing out a message felt arbitrary and awkward and beyond his slightly sleep-deprived abilities.

So when she messaged him first, he made a mental note to kiss her just for that kindness.

Dr. Dryden: Are you free this evening?

John: Last meeting of the day is scheduled for 1700. Short of a crisis, I should be free.

Dr. Dryden: Good :) Meet me in the park after, where we watched the movie. Something I want you to see.

He wondered if it was effortless for her, sending messages that shot thrills through him. Maybe he should use the smiling symbol, too. Maybe it would warm her chest like it did his.

John: Okay :)

As it turned out, a day could pass excruciatingly slowly when there was something to look forward to at the end of it. He vaguely remembered this feeling from childhood–the fidgeting anticipation, the humming eagerness that vibrated through him. And when the rest of Silver Team headed to dinner together, he wondered how transparent it was that he nearly jogged in the other direction, itching to leave the building. But they could tease him for it later on if they wanted. He needed to see whatever it was Annie wanted to show him.

He arrived to a large crowd, similar to the night of the movie. But this time, there were peals of laughter and chatter and live actors in place of the screen. A play . He scanned the crowd for the little beam of light she seemed to emit, but it was hardly necessary–there was no mistaking her animated waving once she spotted him. When he was close enough, she pulled her bag into her lap to free up space beside her. “Hey handsome, have a seat.”

He folded himself up to keep his legs from sticking out into the walking path between rows and felt awkward for it. Not particularly handsome. But she nudged her shoulder into his until he smiled.

“Have you ever been to a play?”

“Not that I recall. Are they always so casual?”

Audience members answered aloud when the actors delivered rhetorical questions. They called out warnings to characters and booed the villain. It wasn’t at all what he imagined a play to be like.

“No, but this is supposedly how Shakespeare’s plays were originally performed. With audience participation. This is one of the comedies, so folks get extra silly with it.”

At least he’d heard of Shakespeare. But since he’d missed the first chunk of the performance, he had no idea what he was watching. Mixed up lovers, some people who lived in a forest. Annie pointed at a woman as she appeared onstage.

“That’s Bellacoso! Vannak’s therapist. She does community theater for fun but forgot to tell me about the show until this afternoon when I caught her rehearsing lines.” She leaned forward a little as she watched and snorted at a joke that went over his head. He knew that the play was what she’d wanted him to see. But watching her was the better show.

She caught him staring, eventually, and squinted at him. “Not a fan of The Bard?”

He tried to look away casually but she was already smiling. Already knew that he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the play. “You look happy for your friend, is all.”

She hugged her knees to her chest, almost bashfully, then leveled him with a serious stare. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“Came straight from the meeting.” He left out the part about practically running.

“I have a roast in the slow cooker at home that should be done by now if I can tempt you.” She stood and brushed the grass off herself. “I also have your jacket that you abandoned last night. Don’t worry, I kept it warm.”

And good with his fingers. How was he so good with his fingers? Was it the length of them? The work-worn callouses? They were surprisingly graceful as he stroked two of them inside the slick heat of her. He didn’t say a word, but she could hear his strong, steady breathing, grounding her in the otherwise delirious moment. She was too tired to open her eyes, even though she wanted to see him. Wanted to pull him closer. She didn’t even know what his mouth felt like. But he was too far away, no matter how desperately she reached. Surely, if she stretched her hand just a little further, it would land on some warm part of him. Maybe the stubble of his cheek that she’d felt against her lips.

Annie woke to the gentle annoyance of her alarm, with her own hand tucked between her thighs and a thin haze of shame swirling in her. She could admit she was in the midst of a severe dry spell, and she felt no particular embarrassment about that. But did her subconscience really have to be so desperate about it? The poor guy hadn’t even made it through a date with her and already he was the subject of her wet dreams.

In her defense, she was playing a hell of a waiting game. It was to be expected, of course. Even just as Kai’s therapist, she’d learned that having a Spartan in your life meant sharing them with worlds and causes she could hardly reconcile with her day-to-day life. She was going into this with her eyes as wide open as they could be. And generally speaking, she was a patient person. Her grandfather had instilled it early on, teaching her to bake and garden and invest energy upfront for gifts that would come much later. But the uncertainty of John being gone made her antsy. Was he safe? Was he suffering? Did his thoughts ever drift to her? She shook her head clear of the silly notion and lurched out of bed with the dream still clinging to the backs of her eyelids.

–

“So are you doing the classic dinner and a movie? Maybe take her to the opera? Oh, ballet! Go see a ballet, they’re so romantic.”

“Just dinner this time.” John was sure he’d answered this question at least once a day since they’d left Reach, but Kai seemed convinced that the response was going to change. She’d recommended everything from an art gallery opening to some kind of acrobatics circus. Vannak had tossed a visit to the zoo in the mix, which Kai gleefully picked up. In fact they’d already made plans to visit a river otter exhibit that Cortana told them about.

“Don’t let them overwhelm you, Chief. A quiet dinner sounds nice.” Riz clapped him on the shoulder as she left the Condor’s cockpit to swap shifts with Vannak.

In some ways, it was nice that the rest of the team already knew about his interest in Annie. He wouldn’t have to watch what he said or how he reacted when she was brought up. But they were as nosy as any other siblings would be and professionally trained to be persistent. So instead of being able to put thoughts of the date aside until the mission was over, he was turning it round and round in his mind, second-guessing and questioning every thought he’d had about it.

But then he’d think of the kiss. It was fleeting and innocent–he might not know much about showing affection, but he knew that a kiss on the cheek was mild. Still, it made him smile to remember it. She had smelled like vanilla and oranges and other things that he didn’t have words for yet. He could see himself in his mind’s eye, hunched over to meet her lips and frozen in surprise. And then her all but bouncing down the hallway with one last look over her shoulder and a wave before she turned the corner out of sight. He hoped the wait hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm.

“Cortana. Estimated time of arrival?”

She fizzled into view, even though a quick word in his ear would have sufficed. “Nine hours outside of Reach.” 

He nodded but she remained where she was, one-foot tall on the console between him and Vannak. “Thank you.”

“You got it, Chief.” Still, she waited, hands clasped behind her back.

He frowned as he turned his head toward her. “Is there something else?”

“Would you like me to make a reservation at Savelli’s for tomorrow night?” 

Even the typically aloof Vannak side-eyed their conversation with curiosity. “Shouldn’t we confirm with Annie first?”

“As I understand protocol, the reservation is made in advance and can be canceled or changed if it doesn’t suit Annie’s schedule.” 

It all seemed so unnecessary and overly-complicated. Or maybe he was just fated to be terrible at this. “Do whatever makes sense. I just want to sit down and talk to her for a while.”

“Sure thing, Chief.” 

With that resolved, he stared idly out the window again. But the blue glow remained.

He sighed heavily. “Is there more?”

“Have you decided what you’ll wear?” 

He mentally thumbed through his sparse closet. “A pair of slacks and one of my shirts with the long sleeves?” He heard Vannak scoff before he even noticed Cortana’s frown. “Is that wrong? I can’t wear my dress whites.”

“No, you can’t, that would be excessive. But you should avoid anything with a UNSC logo stamped on it. Those are work clothes. You should wear civilian clothes.” Her voice turned light and airy. “A nice suit. A tie.” 

He couldn’t hide his distaste. “A suit and tie for a dinner date?”

Vannak interjected. “C’mon Chief, you know your girl’s gonna be a knockout, you’ve gotta meet her level.”

“She’s not my girl, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Not if you wear a UNSC shirt, she won’t be.” 

He refused to believe Annie would be that superficial. But Vannak had a point–he wanted to look presentable for her sake.

“I don’t own anything appropriate, then.”

“I have your measurements, I can order something for you. Do you like blue? I think blue would be nice.” 

He didn’t really know if he liked blue, but it felt right to choose something different from the blacks and browns and greens he so often wore. Master Chief didn’t care about colors, but maybe John liked blue. “Blue’s fine. Now, is there anything else ?”

“If you’d like, I’ll send Annie a message as soon as we arrive back on Reach. Would you like me to convey anything specific?” 

He thought on it for a minute before shaking his head. “No, I’d like to send the message myself.”

–

John (Chief): We made it back. Are you free tonight? I made a dinner reservation. John (Chief): This is John. 

The pair of messages came through to Annie’s datapad approximately eight minutes after she’d heard the intercom system call all hands to Brokkr stations. Not that she’d counted. They weren’t particularly fancy, but they made her smile like a fool anyway. “This is John.” She chuckled to herself in her office before her first appointment of the morning, half giddy from excitement and half delighted to see that his personality somehow came through in those bare-bones messages.

She worried a little about the quick turn-around and considered offering to postpone if he needed time to recover. The mission could have been exhausting for all she knew. And even if it wasn’t particularly taxing, it was still a lot of travel. Wouldn’t he want a little rest? Time to breathe for a moment? But then maybe Spartans didn’t need that sort of rest. Or maybe it had been a boring trip and he was looking forward to something out of his routine. Most of all, she was feeling a bit selfish. She wanted to see him. She didn’t want to spook him with anything that looked like hesitation.

Annie: Welcome back :) Free as a bird. Annie: Is there a dress code? 

She was a little surprised that he’d gone so far as to make a reservation–and that he’d managed to make it so quickly. But it was sweet, too, that he’d put in effort. It had been a long time since anyone had put in effort. And a long time since she’d had occasion to get dressed up nice for something other than a work event.

John (Chief): No code but Cortana and Vannak said I have to wear a tie. 

She had to bite her lip to keep from squealing in delight. A man as tall as John had no business being adorable, but there was something dizzyingly endearing about him. Maybe it was the wait getting to her. Maybe she’d built the whole thing up into something more charming than it was. Maybe he was just looking to practice his social skills. She should temper her expectations. Not dive in head first. But she’d dress to impress, all the same.

Annie: Copy that. When and where should I meet you? 

Cortana probably helped choose the restaurant, too. It must be odd to have a second mind in your head all the time, but it probably came in handy, too.

John (Chief): I’ll pick you up at 1900? 

Eleven hours. That gave her eleven hours to overthink and over-prepare and wonder why she was so nervous for a simple date.

Annie: Looking forward to it :) 

—

“I didn’t bring flowers.” John smoothed the front of his shirt even though he knew damn well there weren’t any wrinkles in it.

“You don’t need flowers. Not until you know what kind she likes.” 

“Are you sure? Kai told me not to forget flowers.”

“You’re just nervous, Chief. Take a few deep breaths.” 

He decided to blame the tie. It was constricting, even though Cortana insisted that it was tied correctly. It didn’t serve a practical purpose, as far as he could tell. The shirt buttoned all the way to the collar, it wasn’t holding anything in place. But a lot about the dating ritual seemed arbitrary to him, so like all the rest, he acquiesced. Whatever earned him time with Annie.

He had a moment of deja vu, standing in front of her door with anxiety gnawing at him. But it was a little more thrilling now. “Looking forward to it,” she’d said. She even added one of those symbols that meant she was smiling. With one more bracing breath, he knocked.

And the door swung open to reveal the single most striking person he’d ever seen.

“Breathe, Chief.” 

She wore red. And her hair rested on her shoulders in big, soft curls. She smiled, all bright and dimpled, then cocked her head to the side in consideration.

“Well don’t you clean up nice?”

Speechless, he glanced down at himself like he might see what she saw, but it still looked foreign to him.

“Compliment her.” 

“You’re beautiful.”

Her smile dropped, but her eyes got big and shiny and hopeful. He was enamored. It was like he could see all of her feelings, right there written across her face. She glanced down at her feet for a moment before looking back up.

“Thank you, John.” Her smile returned, softer this time, then she held up one finger as she disappeared for a moment. She returned with a small purse and an outstretched hand. “Ready when you are.”

—

She was glad that she’d left her purse in her bedroom so that she could tuck away for a moment and swoon in silence. He looked good . Better than he had any right to. And he stared at her with wide, hungry eyes that lit her up from head to toe. She took a few calming breaths before she met him at the door again.

His hand was comically larger than hers, which she remembered from the panic attack afternoon. But now that there was nothing to distract from it, she found herself a little mesmerized by how odd it was to walk through the world next to someone with his presence. Between the height and the military bearing, people couldn’t help but stare. And frankly, she couldn’t blame them. He was a striking figure in the suit and tie, even if she suspected he was uncomfortable in it. She squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“So, tell me about the restaurant?”

She could feel him tense up a little before he answered. “Oh, it’s Italian. It has really good reviews and a lot of options.”

She grinned to herself. “Well that sounds very sensible. You like Italian food?”

“So far, yes. Do you?”

Humming at the thought of it, she nodded. “Pasta and garlic and tasty sauces? Who wouldn’t like it? It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a proper restaurant for it though. It’s usually just me throwing stuff together in my kitchen.”

He nodded and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Well that won’t do. She stopped walking for a moment and tugged his hand. “Are you nervous?”

He looked terrified for half a moment, then winced. “That obvious?”

She waved his soft embarrassment away. “I’m nervous, too. I’ve just had more time to learn how to hide it.”

“What could you possibly be nervous about?”

Her heels clacked against the concrete as she started them walking arm-in-arm again. “First dates are nerve-wracking! Especially when you like someone and want it to go well. What if I spill something all over myself? Or my laughs ends up annoying you? You just never know! I think most people get nervous on these things.” She held his hand with both of hers now, as if more contact might settle his nerves. But before he could respond, they were approaching the restaurant.

It had a doorman.

And a piano player in the corner.

And bottles of wine along the walls that probably cost more than she made in a month.

As they were shrouded in the atmospheric dim lighting, Annie lowered her voice and whispered toward him. “Are you sure about this? It’s so… fancy .” She regretted her words immediately when she saw the concern on his face. “Fancy’s nice! I like it! Y’know what, I take it back, let’s do it.”

He gave the host his name and they were immediately escorted to a romantic little table, sat across from each other. It really was the finest restaurant she’d ever been to and it only served to make her more nervous. She tried to tuck it away for the moment but it must have shown on her face

He leaned across the table. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“No. No, it’s sweet of you, finding the very best like this. I just…I hope you don’t think I expect this kinda thing. I’m pretty easy to please, actually.”

She could’ve kicked her own ass for putting a defeated look on his face. “I asked Cortana for recommendations. I didn’t think—“ He interrupted himself to tug at his tie and it was more than Annie could stand.

She scooted her chair around the table until she could reach him comfortably. Lifting out of her seat just a little, she started undoing the tie. “Let’s get rid of this, huh? And maybe this top button?” It might have been a little too forward, but it was worth his immediate look of relief. “There. Now you look like you can breathe.” His smile was so grateful, so unbearably sweet and distracting that she let her hand linger on his neck for a beat too long.

Clearing her throat, she settled back in her seat but left it close to him. “Next time, we’ll go somewhere casual. But we’ll make the most out of tonight. I bet the pasta here brings a tear to the eye.”

—

She was magic. From start-to-finish, she made everything easier. She even remembered his comment about pot roast all those weeks ago to point out what he’d probably like from the menu. And she was right . It was delicious, even though he suspected that it didn’t need to involve so many separate plates and forks. They shared bites from each other’s meals and talked about places they’d traveled. She told him about her grandfather. He talked about bird-watching with Vannak. It was easy and pleasant and more normal than he felt he had a right to.

When they’d finally finished and paid and made it through the restaurant door, she stretched her arms out and laughed. “That was amazing, but god they were stuffy. What is it about fancy food that makes folks so stuck-up?”

He took a steadying deep breath and shook his arms loose of his own share of the tension. “Is that not normal restaurant atmosphere?”

She shrugged, breezy and so clearly glad to be in the fresh air. “Fancy restaurant atmosphere, maybe! You can get tasty food and nice folks in all sorts of places, but once they start charging the big bucks, they seem to think it’s license to be unpleasant.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

She looped both of her arms around one of his then and pressed close to him. “Don’t be sorry about anything. I got to spend time with you, it was well worth it.”

Something swelled in his chest, then. The sure way she held onto him. It was almost like the invincible feeling that he’d only ever known in his armor. But sweeter. “I’m glad you were free tonight. I worried it was short notice.”

“ I’m glad you didn’t wait. And I’m glad you made it home in one piece.” She turned her head just a little to look at him. “I figure you can’t talk about it, but…it was alright?”

“It was mostly uneventful.”

“Good. Now do I have Cortana to thank for this suit, or did you pick it out yourself?”

He huffed a laugh. “She found it for me. And she says ‘you’re welcome.’ I’m still not sure I get the fuss.”

“No? You didn’t like getting all spiffy?”

“That was alright.” He had liked the process of tending to himself with Annie in mind. Apparently it felt nice to look nice for someone. “I just don’t see the appeal of a suit.”

“Which is wild, really, because you wear one better than just about anyone I’ve seen.”

He suspected flattery, but he didn’t argue. Just returned the compliment. “Your dress is…I feel like I’ve never seen red that color. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“You wanna see the best part of it? Here, hold your arm out like this.”

She stepped away from him just long enough to turn on her toe and send the skirt swirling around her in a wide circle. Her enthusiasm was contagious as her fingers spun against his palm and he grinned to see it. But then something else snuck up on him–the smallest bit of heartbreak to think that he’d missed out on a world of simple pleasures for over forty years. The thought must have shown on his face because she stopped spinning and stared up at him.

“You okay?”

“I’m great. And you’re beautiful.”

He could see the deep breath she took. But instead of saying anything, she led him over to a bench tucked under a tree, sat down, and tugged him to do the same until they were side-by-side, his hand held by hers in her lap.

“Less nervous now?” She bumped her shoulder into his and looked up from under her eyelashes. He couldn’t help smiling.

“Less nervous. Good first date?”

Still clinging to his hand, she rested her head on his arm. “Excellent first date. You’re quite the charmer.”

He couldn’t help laughing at that idea, unbelievable as it sounded. “I mostly feel dumbstruck.”

“Still a great big world to take in, huh?”

It took him a second to realize what she was getting at. “It is, but I just meant you.”

When she leaned back to look at him, a few strands of hair clung to his jacket and he nearly reached out to smooth them back. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

She chewed on her lip and almost looked sad. “Sometimes you say things…you make a girl feel special.”

He wasn’t doing anything on purpose, but he certainly thought she was special. Maybe he had stumbled into expressing himself well. “I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing at all. I’m learning all these things I should already know. You know this is the first date I’ve ever been on?”

He watched as she fiddled idly with his fingers. “I know it feels overwhelming, and I get the sense that you expect a lot out of yourself…but I promise, nobody really knows what they’re doing. I’ve been on dozens of dates and I still feel clueless.”

But she’d been perfect. It seemed like the strangest kind of flaw in humanity that people couldn’t see themselves clearly. He almost said as much, but then she spoke again.

“If this was your first date...when I kissed your cheek before you left, was that the first time–”

“No.” He didn’t want to spend any real time talking about the incident with Makee, but he didn’t want to lie about it either. “There was a woman a while back. Ended badly.”

She was kind enough to not pry for details, but she looked curious, all the same. “But no date? You’re so proper about things. It’s hard to imagine you kissing someone without taking them out first.”

“Did things out of order that time.” He met her idle touches with careful caresses of his own. Her hands were so soft in comparison to his, he had to be careful . “Wanted to get it right this time.”

She was leaning toward him then, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean in as well. It was a slow thing, approaching each other with care and heady anticipation. She smelled like vanilla and oranges again–he’d have to ask her to name the other things for him so he could learn the words. Her nose brushed against his, then her breath, and finally her lips, warm and plump, just as they’d been against his cheek.

He let her lead at first, patient and eager to learn. But then she curved her hand along his neck and instinct made him greedy. He finally got his fingers on the soft curl of her hair, just behind her ear, and suddenly she was licking into his mouth, fleeting but hot. It felt so fucking good that lost himself, emitted a low sort of sound that startled them apart. But she left her hand on his neck, reaching her fingers around to scratch through his buzzed hair.

“I’ll get better at that.”

He meant it as reassurance, but she laughed shakily and dropped her forehead to his shoulder.

–

As he walked her home, he slipped off his jacket and tucked it over her shoulders. He kissed her once more at her door, even ventured to brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek as he wished her goodnight.

She watched him walk down the hallway and kept staring, long after he’d disappeared out of sight. It wasn’t until she’d stepped back into her apartment and closed the door that she realized she was still wearing his jacket. She pulled it tight around herself in a hug and walked to her couch in a daze before collapsing onto it face first.

“I’ll get better at that.” 

Nothing seemed real. If dull was his norm, then normal was a riot. A mind, it seemed, could only handle so much new information before throwing it all in a pile labeled “delusion.” The morning before pellet removal, he knew what a laugh sounded like. He knew what the stubble on his face felt like just before he shaved. He knew the smell of cut grass. And then suddenly, all of what he knew was a lie.

So he had wandered to the park, grateful that it was night. As if the blanket of darkness might temper the hundreds of tiny experiences that swarmed him. There was wonder in all of it, and curiosity. A lifetime of training to observe his surroundings didn’t just disappear when emotions and new sensations arrived. But it was terrifying, too. In the way that an open sea or slipspace were terrifying. The kind of terrifying that settles in the gut when a human body is confronted with something it wasn’t designed for.

It was night in Tchakova Park again as he left the residential tower, and he still wondered if he was reaching for things he wasn’t designed for.

“In light of tonight’s small setback, perhaps it would be more appropriate to message Annie to ask about dinner.”

He could feel her sympathy. She couldn’t feel it herself, but he could. If his disappointment was a leaning pillar in his mind, her sympathy was a second pillar opposite of it, buttressing his own unhappiness. It was a kind of comfort, but it didn’t mean he wanted to talk. “Not now, Cortana.”

She didn’t press again, so he settled into the heavy quiet as he headed down a walking path he’d never explored before. 

Spartan eyesight being what it was, there was still plenty for John to see in the dark. Leaves might not be distinct, but the trees were still a sight, standing sentinel in neat intervals along the paved path until it turned to dirt and the canopy grew thicker. The sky was clear, so the reflection of every visible star glittered into view as he came upon a lake. And there, at poised at its edge, was a familiar bulk.

“Vannak?”

His teammate’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he called back. “Hey, Chief. Keep it stealthy.”

The grass was lush beneath his careful steps out here where fewer park-goers trod across it. “What are you doing out here?”

His voice was still soft, but more excitable now. “Night herons. Their range is expanding, so this is the first season they’ve been seen in New Alexandria. I’m watching them hunt.”

Vannak had talked about nature programs that he’d taken to watching, but John didn’t know it had turned into a fully-fledged hobby.. Quietly, he sat down on the grass beside his teammate and peered into the darkness until he realized the reeds he was staring at were legs. “They’re nocturnal?”

“Not exclusively.” He passed his binoculars over to John. “But they feed at night. Less competition.”

He watched as one of them snatched a bug out of the air, then turned to look into the water again. “Guess that’s smart then. Do birds not normally do that?”

“Not most wading birds. But night herons evolved to fill the niche.”

“Fill the niche, huh?” It was interesting enough information, but try as he might, John’s head just wasn’t in it.

“That’s right, Chief.” They sat in companionable silence for a short while, passing the binoculars back and forth, even though neither of them really needed them. Then Vannak piped up again out of nowhere, still just the wrong side of a whisper. “Y’know people hear ‘survival of the fittest’ and think it means strongest, but that ain’t it at all. It’s all about adapting. Whoever adapts to changes the best, those are the ones that survive.”

“Sounding like a philosopher there, 134. You been thinking about change a lot?”

Vannak leveled him with an incredulous look. “Nah Chief, why the hell would I be thinking about change?”

John snorted at the sarcasm, “Point taken,” and leaned back on his palms. “So do the birds help? With all this?”

They both knew they’d been talking about Silver Team’s circumstances for the last few minutes, so Vannak answered without hesitation. “Something reliable to focus on.”

“That’s good. I haven’t found that yet.” He tried not to sound too gloomy about it, but it was a listless sensation all of the sudden.

“You will.”

John nodded, made strangely hopeful by Vannak’s certainty. The man had that effect. “You think it’s gonna stick? Or you think they’ll make us put the pellets back in?”

Vannak snorted loudly enough to catch the attention of the birds they’d been watching. “You ask that like you’d let them make that call. This new Chief, he’s not letting anyone tell him shit.”

Not for the first time, John felt encouraged to be the kind of man that Vannak already regarded him as. They watched the herons until they’d finished their hunt for the night.

—

By the time Annie was finished with her shower, Ben had processed their breakup all the way to the disgruntled stage. The insults—vague and accusing—were completely out of the ordinary for him. But she attributed it to hurt feelings and watched him leave her apartment with fewer regrets than she might otherwise have had.

It still felt a little like failure. She’d let it flounder for too long. How many months had she wasted by putting off the inevitable? How many possibilities had she missed out on while she was complacent with her loneliness? The worst part was that she knew better. She could diagnose her own hang-ups in thirty seconds flat if she was willing to stare them in the face long enough. But that required admitting things and confronting things and feeling awfully small.

She’d save it for another day. She had more important things to do.

Like encouraging her patient to learn to express individuality.

“So I mostly went with teal. Have you ever seen a more perfect color? Blue and green together, what a concept.” Kai held the edge of the gauzy curtain between her fingertips to let it billow, her face alight with equal measures of pride and delight.

Kai had finally decided to make use of the private quarters each member of Silver Team had been allowed. Last they spoke about it, Annie thought she was just considering the option. And when Kai asked for a second set of eyes, she thought maybe the Spartan was beginning to personalize it. What she didn’t expect was a fully furnished apartment absolutely lush with colors and textures. “It’s really lovely, Kai, it suits you! How did you choose the wall art?”

Curtains and bed linens were one thing, but decorations were downright frivolous by Spartan standards. She was proud of Kai for getting adventurous with it.

The Spartan walked up to the nearest canvas and reached out like she might touch it, then pulled back. “Instinct, I guess? I’d like to learn more about art…I don’t think any of these are big important works. I just liked them.”

Abstract, every last one of them. With their bold swathes of color brushed from corner to corner, they were simple but evocative. “If you like them, they’re plenty important.”

Kai nodded, a reassured smile splitting her face for half a moment before excitement overtook it. “The thing I wanted your opinion on! I like the movie posters in your office. The old ones that look like drawings? I thought about getting one for the living room, but I haven’t actually watched many movies yet. I was hoping you could give me some suggestions?”

She probably responded with too much enthusiasm, but Annie spent the next two hours trying to curate a list for Kai, in real time. She made it to 1962.

—

Orders came through and John had never been happier to hear that he was being sent to a war-ridden planet.

The night before had been embarrassing . After turning it over and over in his mind, that’s the emotion he’d settled on. He had mistakenly assumed that he was ready for something beyond his skill level. In his emotionally underdeveloped mind, his interactions with Annie had felt vulnerable and thrilling because he had no standard to compare them to. In reality—the reality that he was only just seeing the wholeness of—they were friendly exchanges. And he was a fool, playing at being a person.

So when Captain Keyes showed up with details on their next deployment, he was relieved to feel like himself again.

They were always given a comprehensive briefing on mission locations, but John liked to do a little extra research himself and plan for contingencies with Silver Team before they ever boarded a Condor. So that’s what he spent the entire day preparing for, to drown the embarrassment from his mind.

After dinner, he returned to the barracks, ready to go over things. “Where’s 125?”

Riz looked up casually from the chess board she’d been studying. “Private quarters.”

He could’ve grumbled something about shared barracks having their benefits, but he’d used his own quarters once himself. “Will she be back tonight?”

Riz moved a piece, claiming Vannak’s bishop with a satisfied snort. “She said she—“

A bright voice interrupted him. “I’m gone for one evening and you start missing me? I’m flattered, Chief.” He was relieved to have his team gathered in one spot until he saw the figure following behind Kai. “You all know Annie, right? She was helping me with my quarters. Could hardly believe the barracks were real when I described them.”

The doctor was entirely dwarfed by the proportions of the room and the four other people standing in it, but John still watched her with something like trepidation. Oh god, he’d really been a fool . He watched her press a hand to the corner of a mattress and frown before stepping closer to the clustered soldiers.

“Gosh, I feel like a hobbit in here. Is Kai the only one using the private quarters so far? I imagine it would be a big change of pace.”

John kept quiet as he tried not to focus on the way her eyes sparkled or the charming way she rocked back on her heels as she waited for someone to say something. He should say something…

In the end, it was Riz that spoke up. “We’re creatures of habit, us military types. Kai’s just the adventurous one.”

John watched as Riz and then Vannak held their hands out while Kai made proper introductions. Then she turned to him, “you already know Chief.”

Annie locked eyes on him then and smiled, softly. The last time she’d seen him, she’d gone out of her way to help him cope with panic. The concern on her face now was clear, as if she was trying to assess whether or not the anxiety lingered. Maybe that’s what it had been all along. He wasn’t technically her patient, but surely that’s what she saw him as. The idea was so obvious and sensible, it nearly infuriated him. A bright, sweet face, full of professional concern. He could hardly stand it. He couldn’t stop staring.

“It’s good to see you, Dr. Dryden.”

“You too, John.” Her expression changed, then. Fell a little as she clasped her hands in front of her and forced a smile. He could tell. The real ones reached her eyes. After a quiet moment, she looked away from John, patted Kai on the shoulder, and started to bid her goodbyes.

“We were sorry to miss you last night.”

Everyone, John included, turned to stare at the unexpected arrival of Cortana.

Annie’s eyes were big as saucers for a moment, then her face folded into confusion. “Hey there, Cortana. You missed me last night? When?”

“Roughly 1900 hours. Someone named Ben answered and said you were indisposed.”

Annie turned to John, head tilted in curiosity. Oh god. This was embarrassment.

He watched as her confusion morphed into annoyance. “I guess he forgot to tell me. He was always bad at passing on messages. Did you need something?”

“No, it was fine, it wasn’t–I was gonna run something by you, but I didn’t realize he was there.”

He watched as the five other figures in the room exchanged glances with each other like he’d done some kind of circus trick.

When Annie spoke again, she was smiling, a beautiful thing that scared him and thrilled him all at once . “Well he’s not there anymore, what’s up?”

He was gonna kill Cortana. He couldn’t kill Cortana, not without killing himself…he’d get a really annoying song stuck in his head and make her deal with that, maybe. One way or another, she’d pay for having brought this up in front of his entire team.

Best stand tall and own up to it. “Would you like to have dinner sometime?”

He watched as her teasing smile turned genuine. If he was lucky, maybe even a little awe-struck. “Like on a date?”

“Yes. If that’s alright.”

The spotlight seemed to shine on her now as everyone waited for her answer. He could practically feel Cortana vibrating in his skull, but it was Kai who looked ready to combust.

He wondered if she felt as out of sorts as he did. Or maybe this sort of thing was commonplace for someone like Annie. But he could almost swear that her cheeks were pinker than normal. But she was graceful as she schooled her smile and cleared her throat. “I’d like that. Very much.” 

This feeling, whatever it was, gave him a head rush. He didn’t even care that all of his teammates were now privy to his interest in Annie or that they’d give him hell about it for the rest of time. All he cared about was the way she pinned her lip between her teeth. 

“When were you thinking?”

And then the crash .

He had to consciously make himself swallow his disappointment. “I don’t know, actually. I was waiting for Kai to get back—we just got orders. Scheduled to leave tomorrow, return date undetermined. It could be a while.”

Her face fell at first, but then she lifted her chin defiantly. “I don’t mind waiting. I like having something to look forward to.”

It was probably better than he deserved, but he’d take it. With it sorted, he was suddenly hyper-aware of the crowded room and couldn’t think of what to do aside from nodding his agreement.

“Okay, well, I’ll let y’all get to your mission briefing planning what-have-you.” God, she was cute when she was out of sorts. “Riz and Vannak, it was nice to meet you properly. Kai, I’ll send that list we talked about over. Cortana, always a pleasure. John, I’ll…” He hoped, a little foolishly, that she might be bold and approach them. “Be safe. All of you, please stay safe.” He was sure she wanted everyone to be safe, but she kept her eyes on him alone, and that meant something to him. 

She left with haste while he was still processing what had just happened, but he didn’t need Cortana to tell him to go after her. He caught up to her right at the doorway and the awkwardness from just a moment ago dissolved.

“I’m sorry, if I put you on the spot.”

“No, you didn’t!” She tucked wild curls behind her ear, his hand itched to do it for her. “I’m sorry that Ben caught you last night. He wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“I’m not stepping on any toes, asking you to dinner?”

He got a dimpled smile for that. “No. But if you’d ever like to step on his toes, I won’t stop you.” They shared a laugh for a second, but then her hand was on his arm. “Please…be so careful out there, okay? More careful than ever. ‘Cause I really wanna have that dinner. And I hate cliffhangers.”

“Noted.” They were close now, closer than they’d ever been, save for the moment they bumped into each other in Medbay. So when she laughed through her nose, he felt the puff of air.