#lozcanons

“Ah,” Harbor called out from across the table as you dragged your sorry bones through the kitchen. “Miss Y/N. Good of you to drop in nice and early—perfect timing! I was just about to get a pot of something on.”

Oh, thank the fuck god.

“That would… that would actually be amazing, I owe you one man,” you hummed as you took a seat at the kitchen counter.

“Pleasure is all mine! Pick your poison.” He nudged a box of teas and coffees across the table towards you with an easy smile.

Looking through, you grabbed your ol’ reliable from the kit and held it up for Harbor’s appraisal. “This okay?” You cocked your head towards him.

“Excellent choice, I’ll get it going.”

As the pot heated up, Harbor worked quickly, grabbing all the mugs from the counter. You noted idly that he seemed to be familiar with which agents were likely to be up early—Brim, Skye, Reyna and Sova’s mugs were all taken out and arranged ready for the agents to come in. Bloody impressive for being in the protocol what… ten days at most?

“I can see you’ve already worked out the lay of the land huh, Harbor.” You nodded towards the cups.

“Well, I can’t well make friends and influence people if I step on their toes before the day even begins,” he chuckled. “I had to learn that with Reyna the hard way.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. Reyna was not known for being the most… approachable, morning or otherwise. You tended to stay away—you’d heard the shouting at Jett and Phoenix before, and that didn’t exactly inspire confidence in you. Not at 5.40 in the morning.

“Look, let’s just say I assumed the whisky pump had been left out from dinnertime by mistake, and I picked the wrong time of morning to put it away.”

At this, you snorted. “Idiocy. Everyone knows Reyna has Frangelico and other, more ‘expressive’ liquors at dinner time.” You really laboured the ‘expressive’.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harbor’s eyes widen. You could almost catch a “speak of the devil” under his breath as the devil herself stalked in, beelining for her modern mug.

Harbor played it off easily, humming lightly to himself as he grabbed the hissing kettle. You on the other hand, sat as still as possible, lips pursed and trying not to draw any attention to yourself on the off chance she’d heard anything.

“This is ready?” you heard her ask your colleague, jerking her head towards the pot as she picked up the mug.

“Piping hot and ready to go, as per usual. House blend today, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”

Reyna hummed approvingly, grabbing the pot and wordlessly pouring herself a drink. As she turned around, you couldn’t help but make eye-contact with Harbor as you heard the crank of the infamous whisky pump. You struggled to keep a straight face, and Harbor’s conspiratorial gleam wasn’t helping.

You managed to keep the giggles under wraps until Reyna had left the kitchen, at which point the pair of you dissolved into chuckles.

“Jesus Christ Harbor, that was a close one. A little more warning, please.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know she would arrive at exactly 6.39 this morning.”

At this point, Harbor grabbed the pot, made a show of checking it for any whisky, and hopped down beside you with his own mug.

“Dude, let me,” you shooed him away from pouring and grabbed the jug. “You had this before?”

“Always down to try new things,” he shot back with a wry smile.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t come complaining to me if you don’t like it then, you were the one who made it.”

He chuckled and gratefully accepted the cup.

Conversation flowed easily as the two of you kicked back, musing on your past lives and ambitions in the protocol. Unlike Harbor, you’d had a while to get used to your radiance, and were able to offer a few tips on how not to overdraw your own energy resources. Harbor, on the other hand, was a wealth of facts and stories from hunting artifacts in the field. He was able to shed a little bit more light on some of the curiosities you had, like the bowls of colourful sand you always lingered on on your deployments in Morocco.

“Oh those? You have a keen eye for these things. From my understanding they’re actually textile dyes—once you activate them with water they take to the fabric like nothing else!”

“Guess we’d have to steer clear if you needed to flood the area,” you poked back.

It wasn’t until your beloved popped around the corner that you remembered you were actually due for a mission today.

“Vincent! I’m so sorry, I meant to be in the meeting room like twenty minutes ago to go over weapons.”

Your partner raised an eyebrow. “Yes, mademoiselle, it took me an extra five of those to convince our dear leader that you were not in fact one for tardiness, and that there was a good reason for your absence.”

“Shit no that’s totally my bad, Harbor and I got caught up yammering about architecture and I completely missed the time.” You shot Chamber an apologetic look, not quite managing to catch his eye.

At this point, Harbor took the moment to chime in. “Well I’m sure Brim can’t expect a lovely lady like this to hit the briefing room on an empty stomach?”

Harbor’s smile was warm and genuine, but his eyes were a little shrewder than you’d initially noticed.

Chamber seemed quiet for a second, moreso than you’d usually expect for his usual morning charm. If your eyes didn’t deceive you he seemed almost taken aback.

“My good friend, my intention was to ensure she arrived on time, and have refreshments come to her without cutting into her time to prepare.”

A little deterred by your partner’s more serious demeanour, you started up from the chair and grabbed the mugs.

“Whelp, this has been a great chat, Harbor, but I definitely have to dash now if I don’t want Brim to be permanently on my ass at 7am.” You swung by Vincent, placing a reassuring hand in the small of his back as you manoeuvred past him to the door.

“No need to apologise, Miss Y/N, though I do hope to continue our chats soon pending the outcome of the mission.” Harbor gave the pair of you an easy smile and settles back against the counter-top. “Do take care on your mission today, yes?”

Chamber grabbed your hand. It wasn’t harsh, but the gesture was sudden enough to surprise you as he gently tugged you out of the room.

“I assure you, my friend, she is in very good hands,” he said over his shoulder as Harbor gave a cheery wave (hah).

As soon as he’d closed the door, Chamber started making a beeline for the briefing room.

“Woah woah, why the sudden professionalism Vincent? Is Brim mad?”

“You mistake my haste, ma Cherie. I prefer to be punctual, and assume you were similarly inclined.”

You pulled back. “I hate to do this now, but I get the sense this isn’t a Brim thing, is it?”

“Don’t be silly ma chou, I just don’t want to be late.”

Yeah… he really wasn’t meeting your eyes, was he.

“Vincent, stop. Look at me. Something’s gotten to you hasn’t it.”

Obligingly, he stopped, but wasn’t turning to face you.

“Vincent…”

“Now it has gotten to this point, I feel exceedingly foolish, mon bebe.”

“My love, when we started to know each other, properly, I made a promise to you and you made a promise to me, right? You remember how that went?”

Your partner sighed, and turned to face you. His jaw was set and there was a vein, a little more pronounced than usual, popping from his forehead. With great effort, he forced his eyes to meet yours, and there was more frustration and concern there than you’d seen in a while.

“Oh, my darling,” you said softly, and moved forward to wrap him in a massive hug. “We talk about these things right? I promised you I’d listen, and always be there to hold you like this.”

“…’m feel so stupid for even letting it get to me,” he mumbled into your shirt. “…wasn’t even your problem… thought I was past this unbecoming behaviour…”

While you could only glean little snippets of what he was saying, you started putting two and two together in your head. “Ahh,” you say quietly.

“And I knew when I made this commitment—when we committed to each other—that I wouldn’t be the one captured by your gaze.”

“Vincent, I promise you, I’m not that—”

“No no, mon ange, you have this magnetic draw. You’re too kind, too well-meaning to see it, but of course people are going to be interested in you. I knew that, I prided myself on rising above it but still…”

“I’m really not convinced that Harbor is interested in anything more than being friends.”

At the mention of his name, you felt Chamber’s body twinge a little.

“No mon amour, he had that look in his eyes. I know it all too well, it is something I’ve felt myself on a number of occasions.”

“Shhh shhh,” you gently traced your fingers through his hair and around the nape of his neck. “Shhh, you know that kind of thing doesn’t faze me at all though right? He’s barking up the wrong tree.”

Chamber, your beautiful, tired partner, mumbled something unintelligible into your chest.

“And hey,” you continued. “I don’t care how many people throw themselves at me, shamelessly or otherwise. In fact, I wish they wouldn’t, at all. Ever. However. None of that matters, not even for the split second it takes you to get from point A to B on your rendezvous, huh?”

At this, he let out an involuntary snort.

“And none of that matters, because at the end of the day, I only have eyes for you. I will only ever have eyes for you. No one interests me in the same way you do Vincent.” You paused for a second, because no matter how many times you said it it still felt as real as the first time.

“You are the only one I love, and I love you with my head, my heart, my body and my soul. We made a promise, you and I, and I intend to keep it.”

You felt him relax into your arms as you say this, and in that moment, you decide that maybe Brim can wait a little longer.

“I love you,” he mumbled through your shirt.

“I love you too, Vincent,” you smiled back.

---

“Your heart is thudding awfully fast, carino,” Reyna remarked from the corner couch.

“Am I that easy to read, Ms Reyna?” Harbor shot back a wry grin.

“You know, if you were interested in that one you could have asked absolutely anyone in the protocol about her. Always the same answer.”

“Barking up the wrong tree… I take it?”

Reyna took another sip of her god-forsaken whisky concoction. “Quick learner,” she remarked.

You’re one of those people that shines on and off the battlefield. An expert marksman, you take great pride in your ability to sink shots and do your job

And then outside of missions? A sweet, sweet person who keeps morale high, stays switched on and generally keeps people from getting at each other’s throats

He shoots plenty of compliments your way, as he’d do for any member of the protocol… right?

Though in your case they’re always very observant and thoughtful. Like, he seems to have clicked on the things that make you you, the things that you pride yourself in

Just being nice, right? Nevermind the fact that once you’ve turned away with a quiet smile, the man is gawking at you with warm eyes and a goofy grin that he can never quite keep down

The trouble is, Sova’s raging crush has robbed him of the ability to tell whether you like him or whether you’re just being nice

Anytime you hit him with a ‘Sova, that was an excellent shot’, it’s all he can do to manage out a quick ‘thanks’

In fact, to start with it may even feel like he’s a little aloof when it comes to accepting complements

It really is just cause he’s screaming inside

It’s actually Raze who notices his… conundrum first. She has a great radar for trouble

‘Damn Sova, you always seem so articulate when it comes to other people but you like, choke around them.’

When he stiffens, Raze puts two and two together

‘Ohhhhhhhh, it’s like that, heh. Hey Kikiiiiii-‘

The younger duellists (+Killjoy) have a group chat devoted to getting you two together (actually mostly to get Sova embarrassed cause he’s usually so measured)

This includes but is not limited to:

Always cramming the table so you have to sit next to each other

Spilling drinks on him at said table, inevitably getting you to fuss and clean him up as Sova goes white as a sheet with the close contact

Phoenix holds the record for the closest call- he playfully bumps Sova into you one time and the man is not seen for days, leaving you wondering if it was something you said (it wasn’t)

Eventually Sova’s predicament gets so bad that Raze and Killjoy have to sit him down for an intervention

Killjoy: ‘Sova, you gotta talk to them’

Sova: ‘Who’

Killjoy: ‘You know damn well who’

Sova: ‘What are you suggesting, Killjoy’

Raze: ‘Well not balking at the sight of them for starters. They probably think you hate them

Sova: ‘I will not be accused of treating them with any kind of disregard Raze!’

Raze: ‘Buddy.’

Killjoy: ‘You’re an honest guy, just have an honest conversation.’

Sova: ‘I don’t like this honest conversation’

He makes his exit

While the girls’ words permeate, it takes a good three weeks after that to muster the courage to talk

He catches you in the common area chatting away to Phoenix, and comes right up in front of you

‘May I have a word.’

With the sternness of his request, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were in trouble

Phoenix gives a halfhearted ‘dude, we were in the middle of-‘ until he catches Sova’s intense expression.

‘Ohhhh it’s like that, huh~ I won’t keep you two sweethearts thennnn’

Unbeknownst to you, he shoots Sova an exaggerated wink, which the archer promptly ignores

Finally in a quieter spot, you can only manage out a quick ‘have I fucked up? Am I in trouble with Bri-‘ before Sova draws in a bit closer, slightly breathless

He makes deeeeeep eye contact

‘Listen. I pride myself on honesty, and have failed miserably in this regard.’

‘Sova you’re white as a sheet, what gives? Is everything okay?’

‘Everything is, good. In fact everything is wonderful, better, when you’re around, and I have often wished to see you earlier each morning until later and later each evening. Even when you are not around, I catch myself thinking of you and it brings me,,, no small amount of warmth’

At this point, you’re the one at a loss for words

He continues

‘I cherish and respect you as my ally, friend and equal, and so a single word would see me never utter a word of this again. But should you feel that you would like to, perhaps, grow closer, I offer myself to you as a partner’

It takes a moment to process the uh, formality, of his statement, but eventually it clicks

‘Sova, are you… asking me out?’

‘Yes, and I can see I have overstepped so I will just-‘

You catch his hand as he turns to go

‘Stay, please. Keep talking. I’m in.’

He’s dumbstruck for a second, overwhelmed by your palm pressing into his skin and the big grin splitting across your face

‘That’s a yes, Sova. I like you too, I like you very much’

And that’s how you make the happiest man alive.

Omen (CW: a bit of blood and gore and angst, he’s an edgy mofo)

Omen had completely discounted his capacity for most human emotions.

Spite? Yes, he’s well familiar. He sees it in Viper’s frame, hunched over the workbench early into the next morning.

Bloodlust? It creeps over him the way it flashes across Reyna’s grinning face in the heat of battle, the desire to pull and tear and rend, limb from tendon from rib from organ

Guilt perhaps. After the cruelty of the moment has died down, he sits with an uncomfortable prickle that he’s too proud to address directly

But a fucking crush. Absolutely out of left field, sideswipes him like a truck.

To start with, you’re just another person that’s… around

One with an annoying habit of holding him in focus, asking him questions about his day, his mission. He knows it comes from a place of straightforward compassion, but compassion is just pity and pity reminds him he’s… like this

A small part of him wants to pull closer, but the stronger, reflexive part wants him to run

This is pretty effective most of the time, but coming home from a really tough mission proves the final straw

Seeing the enemy Killjoy’s face, over and over, frozen in shock and fear as he materialises and shreds her with rapid fire. Hearing the enemy Raze scream her name, not ‘Killjoy’, but her real name. Relishing the moment and screaming at himself to stop shooting, stop hurting, hurt them, hurt them

The blue light behind his bandages shudders and writhes, thumping stronger and harsher as a dark growl escapes him

At this point, the protocol have been trained to avoid Omen and give him space. Yoru trails off, and abruptly slinks away from the kitchen. Jett grabs Neon’s arm and pulls her away a little

As it becomes harder and harder to see, Omen resigns himself to losing and succumbs to the whirlwind

And then arms are around him, a chest pressed tightly against his. Body heat and a thumping heart, beating in an altogether too human rhythm

No, this is wrong, this is all wrong

He writhes and tears at his confinement, dragging claws down again and again until he hears a hiss of pain

He draws back and is hit by the full beam of your eyes, flashing with pain and adrenaline but resolute and defiant and,, concerned for him?

You don’t say anything, you just hold his gaze

The thumping is distant now, and he stays there, shoulders heaving, and starting to shake uncontrollably

He’s so caught off guard that all that panic and anger and disgust is drained from him

‘Sorry, Omen. … You just looked like you needed a hug,’ you say simply, and draw back

After that, as cliche as it is, he can’t stop thinking about you

He hovers around the infirmary while Sage treats the deep gashes on your back. He hears you wincing and flinches reflexively, but after a while the resident healer has worked her magic and you’re cleared to leave

Caught in his own thoughts, Omen doesn’t quite manage to slink away before you walk through the sliding door

You fix him with that look. ‘You okay, Omen?’

There’s no malice, no pettiness. Surprisingly no fear. It’s concern in your voice, clear as day.

‘I suppose I am,’ he says, and leaves

Over the next few weeks, he starts finding himself able to hold your stare more and more. Seeing now that the concern, not pity, is genuine, a switch flips, and that flight response he’s so used to indulging is replaced by a desire to get closer, see you more

He skulks and observes, intently watching the way you interact with everyone. The easy smile, the shared chuckle, the way you’re switched on to the other agents’ moods and needs. He sees you hand Yoru a big glass of water when Skye leaves, and easily dance around Reyna as she whirls through the kitchen with single minded focus

And when the prickle spreads across his cheeks and settles across the front of his chest with a warm intensity, and it’s the most human he’s felt in… a good while

He’s not really good at initiating conversation, so his campaign to get closer looks more like presence. He’s just… around more, observing, sitting in the corner, spinning his yarn in public for the first time in a while

He’s actually pretty content with this. Having resigned himself to the fact that you’re a genuinely nice person to everyone, there’s no way he’s a about to endanger this new closeness by pushing for anything more

He ignores the pangs he gets when he thinks about never telling anyone about these feelings. He thinks he does

Eventually, something’s gotta shift, and it does

Late one night, you’re hauled back from a mission, straight to infirmary. Breach calls it a stupid risk, but there’s no real malice in his voice. The fact that he’s standing there to chide you underscores to both of you that it was the right call

You get out in the wee hours of the morning, joints aching and desperate for a glass of water

A quiet flicker movement from the corner catches your eye, and you whirl around with a sharp intake of breath, still very much on edge

Omen, in the process of switching his yarn, pauses when he sees you freeze up. He knows stress well, and he can’t help but feel awful when he sees your frame, usually so confident, shaking ever so slightly in the back light

He can’t help but notice how much smaller you look in this moment

Before he can check his impulses, he gets up and comes over to you. When you make no move to deter him, he steps in and wraps you up in his hulking frame

Initially, he’s worried that you’ve gone into shock. He can feel your heartbeat thumping at worrying speeds, like a rabbit in a trap. He can also feel a panicked pulsing within himself, and if he didn’t know better he’d say he had an alarming heart rate too

Silently kicking himself, he goes to pull away

The gesture is cut short when two arms encircle him and shaky palms press into his back. He hears a quiet ‘…stay, please…’ and the words jab into his ribs. He holds you tighter, avoiding the bandages as best he can

Time goes weird, but eventually he notices your heart rate going down. Caught in the moment and afraid it will end all too soon, he takes a free hand to run through your hair

As he feels you lean into the gesture, he takes a moment to actually look up and hold space with you

You still look haggard, but the jumpiness is gone and you’re managing a smile. He fights every urge he had to close the distance, instead opting to keep eye contact and waiting for your lead

‘Hey, Omen, thanks. And, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-‘

He’s not having it

‘You looked like you needed the hug,’ he says simply

You take the moment to lean back in against his chest, enjoying the steady beat and letting yourself feel safe, and protected

It’s almost imperceptible, but loud enough that he can clearly make out your quiet ‘always.’

Look, it’s fairly organic from here on out- the two of you don’t really need to state things out loud to feel like things have fundamentally shifted.

You seek each other out regularly, no longer just in moments of extreme vulnerability, but simply because you like being around each other

“Awww Yoru, don’t be such a buzzkill,” Phoenix calls over the milk jug. “Like, you know we have multiple teams right? Like, they need you for icebox. No one else can fuck around with the enemy’s intel on the ground like you can my guy.”

Yoru’s eyebrow twitches and his hands fiddle idly with the spoon in his hand. “What’s it to you, fire boy? You can barely last ten seconds when you get going, I’m surprised they’d take you anywhere.”

Phoenix lets out a low whistle. “Someone’s got his cranky pants on this morning hey.” He turns to you with a pointed look. “Good luck with that one.”

You clap Phoenix on the shoulder as he heads out from the table, and settle down next to Yoru, who maintains a stony silence.

“Yoooooru,” you call gently. He shifts with irritation, jabbing his spoon back into the cereal with a wet thunk. “Hey there, how ya doing hotshot?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather girl.”

Ah, it was gonna be like that, huh.

You take a mouthful, and nonchalantly ask: “hey, you looking forward to icebox? I hear they have some pretty good recreation activities for team bonding~”

His grip tightens further. Yep, definitely pissy about it.

You continue, innocently enough: “I for one am looking forward to checking out the geodome on Omega and testing out these sweet kicks Neon got me. Thoughts?”

You gently nudge his foot under the table. A vein pops in his forehead.

“At least I’m not a pity pick, you shady bitch.”

“Hoooo~? What’s that supposed to mean, Mr Sunshine?”

“I mean I just think it’s interesting that you’re supposed to be a healer but they also had to send Sage along.” He toes the ground and prods at his food without taking any.

“Uhhh, congrats Yoru, she’s the one person here that can bring people back from the dead.”

“Yeah, she’s actually helpful when she heals. Plus she doesn’t nag.”

Okay, you were starting to get a little irritated now.

“Dude, if you stopped getting yourself into stupid situations maybe I wouldn’t have to literally tell you what to do as much. I don’t think this is a me thing.”

“Keep telling yourself that Miss Nurse. But at the end of the day if I was stuck on a mission with someone annoying, I’d want them to at least be able to bring me back to life.”

Dude, fuck this guy.

“Welp, I’ll let Sage know then,” you say, rising abruptly from your seat. “On the mission, today. That Brim didn’t put you on.”

“See you later then, Miss MVP,” he sings back at you. You ignore the bait and stalk out.

Yoru maintains a cold smile as you leave, but it’s pushed out through gritted teeth and feigned apathy.

---

As much as this mission should have you on edge, you can’t quite process the gravity of the task for all the ruminating you’ve been doing. Why did it get under your skin so much when Yoru got like this?

It wasn’t like the other agents ever through shade on your abilities—quite the opposite. Very quickly after joining, you were put on a lot of the most demanding missions alongside all the high flyers. They’ve only ever had words of praise and gratitude, and objectively you’ve guided them through many many close calls.

So why did you feel so useless about it?

You try your best to shake yourself out of it as Brim gives the lowdown. Sova, Sage and Phoenix all stand, varying degrees of agitated as you went over the plan for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

You of course have familiarised yourself with the brief well in advance, but it looks like this time even Phoenix is giving his undivided attention to Brim.

The task is simple. Split your forces and push through B-site. Destroy enemy utility as you find it, wait for smokes and neutralise anything and anyone in your path.

As you start prepping your guns, Phoenix drifts over to fix up his frenzy next to you. Preoccupied in your own thoughts, you don’t notice till he gently shoulder chucks you.

You turn around with a ‘hmm?’ and for a moment it looks like he wants to say something. But then Brim starts issuing start-up commands and the moment passes. He heads back to join Sage at the entrance to mid.

You grit your teeth, and ready your rifle. No do-overs. Just guns up and go.

---

The attack goes… better than expected. Between you and Sage, you manage to keep any injuries on the crew to a minimum. Sova’s recon is on point, Phoenix creates space and Brim makes the right calls to keep you on track.

Eventually you stand, bloodied, sweating and alive in the middle of site. Sage tends to a couple of bullet holes in Brim’s shoulder, Phoenix is brushing the soot off his shoulder.

You clock Sova limping over to Brim, looking fairly haggard and favouring his left ankle. You get the sense this was a big fight for him even after a sleepless night. You can see him gesturing out to the entrances to site, and Brim pursing his lips in thought, clearly weighing something over. God. The man doesn’t rest.

You weigh up your options and sigh, eventually going over to put a gentle hand on Sova’s back, careful to avoid the deep gash in his right shoulder.

“C’mon owl boy, I’ve still got some recon stuff up my sleeve. Let me handle this one yeah?”

Sova’s noises of protest are quickly cut off as Brim chimes in: “That’d be great actually, kid. Just a regular sweep, and Kay/0’s on radar in case anything big comes up.” He shoots you a grateful look.

You can see Sova mulling things over, before eventually he accedes to Brim’s command. “Stay safe, dove.”

“You know me,” you call back over your shoulder, reloading your ammo and adjusting your straps. “If trouble finds me, she runs.”

You set to work, clearing area by area. You marvel at the architecture, embedded with radianite that now lays dormant in the walls and balustrades. Most of the technology resembles yours, but occasionally you come across wirings and contraptions that you haven’t seen back on your home world, even in Killjoy’s lab.

May as well snap a few pictures then. You’re sure she and Cypher would appreciate a couple of schematics.

Poised with your phone in hand, a very subtle shift from the corner of the room sets your hairs on end. Shit. You were pretty sure the team had cleared everything, but what if…?

Better safe than sorry. Taking a deep breath in, you send a warm pulse of energy out into the aether, seeing what pings.

One life form. Faint.

You swear under your breath and creep forward. You’re generally pretty quiet but you weren’t exactly operating on the basis that someone would be around to hear you when you started live-blogging your whereabouts. As you round the corner, you find a bloodied form, eyes very much open and staring at you.

Ugh. Of course it had to be him.

The mirror Yoru looks under you and mutters something you can just make out to be… ‘Fuck me. Really? Her?’

“Hey there pretty boy,” you murmur. He smiles wryly at the nickname, but can’t quite bite back a bloodied cough that wracks his body for a good ten seconds.

“Woah woah woah,” you say, instinct taking over as you crouch beside him and brace his back. He flinches a little at the touch before you snap back and realise that this isn’t your Yoru, this is the enemy. Fuck.

“What, you gonna play around before you kill me,” Yoru grimaces. You draw back, uncertain, and he taps the centre of his forehead. “The you I know would make it quick.”

Oof. Hearing him say that out loud was pretty jarring. You were supposed to kill him. He expected you to.

You swear again, and bend down once more to draw level with him, doing a quick pass over on his injuries. Left to his own devices, he won’t last long. There were enough bullets perforating his chest from his sternum to his kidney that he’d bleed out in minutes. What a way to go.

A thought occurs to you. You haven’t managed to neutralise his Sage. She’s still probably at base—you know your Brim only brings her out when she’s essential on the field, too important to lose to a regular field mission. So no matter what, the man in front of you ends up back at his base eventually.

That settles it.

“Hold still hotshot.”

Not in a position to protest, Yoru can’t do much but sit and try to steady his breathing as you start to pull back his jacket, wincing a little at the extent of the damage. Taking a swab of antiseptic from your pouch, you mutter a quick ‘deep breath, this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker’ before setting to work cleaning the wounds.

Apart from sharp hisses when you remove the little pieces of lead embedded in his tissue, Yoru stays silent through the process, looking away.

Eventually, the wound is tidy enough that you’re able to start the real healing process. Stretching out your fingers, you press the palm of your hand to his side. While he jerks back at the initial contact, the warm waves of energy start to work their magic, reverberating through muscle and tissue and starting to net it back together.

Yoru finally lets out a sigh as in spite of himself, he relaxes into your work. “Ugh, that’s the stuff,” he says, almost to himself. Eventually he ventures: “why are you doing this, mirror girl?”

“Your Sage would bring you back anyway. We might be on opposite teams, but I’m not an asshole. I’d hope my other half would do the same for my colleagues.”

“Hm,” he whistles through his teeth.

“Didn’t expect you to be a fan of my healing though,” you muse.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s stupid. I’m actually a little pissed at your double right now, he was being a real dick talking shit about wanting Sage to heal him instead.” You notice his amused expression. “Sorry.”

To your surprise, he actually laughs at this. “Yeah of course he’d say that. If he’s anything like me he’s a stubborn bastard more keen to score points than to actually tell the truth. Fucking dumbass.”

Well that’s unexpected. “You don’t think… he meant it?”

At this, Yoru scoffs. “God no. In fact, if he has taste like me, he’d take your healing over Sage’s any day. Hers is like. Proficient, right? Technically flawless. But it’s so cold. She’s been at it for a while, and healing is just another obligation for her. You though. Yours is warm. Spreads through you like the heat from one of those old-fashioned light bulbs. And something about the way your power works…”

Here he trails off for a second, noticing how intently you’re listening. “Go on,” you coax, moving your hands down to focus on his ribcage.

“Your healing has a lot of you in it. Any time your mirror—or you actually, now that I think about it—fixes me up, I can feel how much you care about helping me. It’s nice and comforting, like honey, or sunlight on your back or some shit.”

Oh. Okay then.

“Why would you tell me this,” you ask quietly, starting to finish up the process and apply a few rounds of gauze to stabilise the major wounds.

“I want to cause problems for him. It’s funny.” For once, there’s no malice or ego behind his words. It’s nice to see him surprisingly genuine.

You go to shoot back a retort, but the intercom crackles and Brim’s voice comes through. “Command to Patch, status report? It’s been a few.”

Yoru’s eyes flash for a second, suddenly aware of the danger he’s in. He shifts uncomfortably as you take breath before responding, keeping eye contact with the man in front of you.

“All clear Command, I’m returning to base shortly.”

Yoru lets out a low whistle. “Shit, and you could have been a narc about it.”

You give a wry smile. “I suppose you’re right. I’m assuming you’ll leave this off your mission report to Sage?”

He nods.

As you turn to leave, his hand grabs your wrist. “What is it, rift-squawker?”

“Talk to him, patchy. He’s dumb, and the people he likes most are the ones he pushes away the most. He’s terrified to lose them, but he’s even more terrified of things almost working out.”

“I don’t think he’s dumb,” you muse quietly. “But I’ll take your word for it. Take care yeah? Don’t let me have to patch you up again.”

You clap him on his good shoulder and head back to extraction. The last thing you hear from him, almost under his breath, is a quiet ‘maybe there is hope then.’

Whatever that means.

---

Back at base, things are way less tense. Aside from Omega team’s triumph, Icebox was a total wipeout and the team managed to secure valuable intel about the mirror protocol’s next movements.

After dragging your tired bones to the infirmary and having Skye give you a top up, you’re about to hit the sack when a familiar form crosses your path. A lot of your hackles from earlier have gone down, and what the mirror Yoru had said flashes through your mind.

“Yoru!”

He turns around, face surly as ever.

“What is it, healbot? Come to gloat about your victory on the new frontier?”

You push back the instinctual retort, and opt for a more peaceful route. “Eh, the geodome was a bit touristy. I hear Icebox went well though. I don’t know what you did to get Viper commending you, but it sounds like you let ‘em have it.”

Yoru’s a bit caught offguard by your lack of defensiveness, but it doesn’t stop him from shooting back “yeah, turns out not having a healer is no big deal, actually.”

“That’s not what he said,” you muse. That piques his interest.

“Who?”

Oh shit.

“Oh, y’know…” you say evasively, waving your hand.

“Probably Phoenix, he doesn’t know shit.”

Oh? Bet. “Literally you,” you say before you can stop yourself.

That gets his full attention.

“The fuck do you mean me, patchy? I haven’t told you jack shit.”

You shoot a furtive glance around the corridor, and pull him into a small maintenance room shutting the door behind.

“Mirror you, idiot.”

“Where the fuck did you find my bastard clone? Scratch that, how the fuck did you have a full conversation with him?”

Ugh, no going back now. “It was… an arrangement of sorts. He was pretty dinged up and I-“ your voice catches here. “I couldn’t exactly walk past him when he was so hurt.”

“So, what, you healed him with your magic healing powers,” Yoru says incredulously.

“Don’t be mad…”

“Actually?” Yoru’s voice peaks, and you have to shush him, checking the handle.

“Hey if it was you surely you’d want the mirror me to he-“

He cuts you off. “Obviously but why the fuck would you heal me after all the shit I said earlier?”

This catches you off guard. “You… you were hurt, I know I’m not Sage but I thought you’d rather not die.”

“But like I obviously wasn’t serious about the whole healing thing. Wait…” he catches sight of your expression. “You thought I was serious about preferring Sage’s healing to yours?”

“Until he said something about it, Yoru, yeah. It got under my skin.”

He rocks back and puts a hand to his forehead, grimacing. “Shit. God. Fuck. I’m…” He grits his teeth. “I’m sorry. I- yeah that was on me. You know I don’t mean it right?”

Wow. An actual apology from Yoru? The fuck kind of magic did mirror Yoru work?

“Yoru it’s, it’s fine. I guess I put a lot of myself into my healing so it’s a point of pride for me. It kinda sucks when people turn around and say I’m less-than.”

“I know you put a lot of yourself in it,” he says quietly. “That’s… one of the things I really like about your healing. That’s why it’s… my favourite…” That last bit is barely audible.

A bit of a flush of pride starts to prickle your cheeks, though you try your best not to show it.  “Yoru, you know you can just say that upfront, right? Like, it’s okay to recognise when you like what other people do.”

“I know. I know, I just-“ He mumbles the next bit. “What if they think I’m stupid for enjoying their help, and what if they don’t think as highly of me?” The light is low, but even so you can see the heat starting to radiate off his face as he gives you this surprising dose of honesty.

“Are you kidding me? You’re one of the best even in the protocol. Insane marksmanship, brilliant record and an amazing knack for getting behind enemy lines. Why would anyone think you’re stupid or not respect you.”

“But,” he sputters out. “I want you in particular to like me and like what I do.” Just as quickly as the words leave his mouth, he clamps his hands over and looks away, very pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Wow. Wow, okay.

“I should go,” he says abruptly, and whirls around to leave. Anticipating the gesture, you catch his wrist and tug him back.

“Yoru you freakin’ dumbass. I think you’re great. You’re one of my favourite people in the protocol, and I like it when you can be honest with me. I think it’s really sweet.”

Without warning, he draws in close, chest going up and down at quite a rate. He really looks like he wants something, wants to say something or do something, and you’re starting to get the sense you know what it is.

Fuck it, worth the risk.

You close the distance and press your lips against his. He goes completely stiff for a second and you almost freak out, worried that you’ve misread the many cues. But then he’s pushing into the kiss hungrily, his hands reaching around and pulling you close, growling at the sensation of finally having you up close.

Every movement you make, he leans into it and responds tenfold, huffing and tugging and trying to hold as much of you as he possibly can.

You both near run out of breath before you finally break, standing there panting and looking at each other. His hair is wild and his eyes are gleaming with no small amount of satisfaction, and maybe even a hint of relief.

He pulls you in close again, this time wrapping his arms around you for a bone-crushing hug. “Your clone is the fucking wing-man of the century,” you murmur into his ear.

· When you walk into the room, he’s reduced to knee-jerk reactions—the three same pet names, talking loudly and dramatically to the nearest person like some dumb highschooler

· He silently curses himself as he does it but this man is surprisingly bad at dealing with what he quickly realises are feelings

· The great Chamber? Reduced to such a simpering fool?

· He’s gotta do something. Anything

· To start with, expect to be absolutely peppered with attention. To start with, I definitely wouldn’t blame you for being suspicious that Chamber wants something from you

· Every day, another ‘Ah! Mon petite chou, just the person I wanted to see! Could you humour me and test out my new weapon? I believe it may be to your liking’

‘Uhhhh, yes, but can I finish my cereal first? Please?’

‘But of course mon canard, you are the one with the crackshot reputation here, no? I can wait’

· Every time he opens his mouth he’s inwardly cursing, but he’s at the point of no return. He’s got to catch your eye. Somehow.

· Finally you accede to one of these… weapon test runs for want of a better word? Chamber is positively delighted. It’s like half an hour in of him showing the cool things he’s made and how much money he’s spent on them before he finally gets to the thing he actually brought you here to see

· This is bemusing to say the least, but you humour him as he takes the (admittedly very elegant) ghost out of the glass case with gloved hands. He runs you through the mechanism, bragging at the patented ball-bearing system that reduces trigger latency and recoil.

· ‘Oh, so like a fidget spinner?’

· Man has never been more gutted in his life, but he shakes it off.

· ‘Aight, hand it over then Chamber.’

· Your hand brushes his as you take the weapon, and he lingers for a second, seemingly paralysed by the gesture.

· ‘You… okay there bud?’

‘Ah, yes, mon Cherie. Just… proud of my work.’

· While that’s not the whole truth, there’s more truth in that sentence than he’d usually be comfortable sharing. Huh.

· As you take the gun, feel its balance and give it a spin, you can feel him watching you intently. You toss it up, catch, and take aim at the synthetic target on the far wall.

· As much as you kinda hate to admit it, the gun handles well. Really well. It reminds you more of a finely crafted musical instrument, sculpted to purpose.

· With a remarkably quiet release, the two of you appraise the singed hole in the inner ring of the target

· ‘Not bad at all Chamber.’

· Goddammit. He hates just how hard it is to hide the happy flush that spreads across his face. It’s all he can do to keep from grinning like an idiot

· ‘And I wasn’t even the one shooting the gun,’ he observes dryly

· You shoot him a wry smile at this, and it’s all Chamber can do to stop from pumping the air

· He manages to draw you again with the promise of good weaponry, and try as you might you find it hard to find flaws in the weapons you test

· Granted, when you do notice something off in the handling, he’s pretty receptive and starts tinkering away

· Soon, the two of you have made a habit of hitting the workshop together, building up… for want of a better word, it’s a strong professional relationship based on trust

· This is big for Chamber, trust doesn’t come naturally to him

· Finally though, he wakes up one morning and realises he can handle himself around you

· Tres bien

· From here, Chamber becomes more and more forward about wanting to spend time with you. After tinkering, he starts to suggest innocuous little cafes and quiet lunch spots

· ‘Oh but mon Cherie, it is my treat! You are the one helping me with these gadgets’

· Finally able to relax a little bit more, you began to see a side of Chamber that’s more comfortable and less reflexively performative. He seems to genuinely want your advice on situations, and is keen to share what he learns. He’s still very outgoing, but there’s an earnestness that he doesn’t seem to show otherwise

· That’s all well and good but as soon as any of the other agents walk by it’s back to drama king Chamber. It’s quite jarring the first time it happens. One minute he’s kicking back and humming along to the bossanova in the background, the next he’s loudly exclaiming about how ‘you simply must change up your casual outfits, Yoru! You look like an angry teenager in that jacket’

· It happens a couple more times before it hits you that he seems to be genuine specifically around you

· Huh

· Eventually you call him on it

· ‘Vincent.’

· His ears prick at the mention of his real name. He’s made no secret of it in the protocol but it’s still out of the blue

· ‘Yes, ma puce’

‘This is like… the third time this week you’ve gotten me flowers.’

‘Ah but of course mon-‘

You cut him off

‘You trust me to be real right? It feels like you’re courting me here Vincent.’

· You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up as you say this. God, what if you’re misreading this and-

· The spiralling stops when you realise that Chamber has turned even redder than you feel

· He sputters a little, genuinely caught offguard

· The great, smooth-talking Chamber. Rendered speechless

· You can’t help but chuckle

· ‘Please mon chouchou, you have put me at quite a disadvantage’

· Okay, this is fun

· You draw closer, relishing the way he seems to struggle with hiding his face but also enjoying the closeness?

· Seeing his lip quiver a little, you decide to take pity on the poor man and say, just quietly enough for just him to hear

· ‘Well, I’m certainly not opposed to this partnership, my dear’

· His eyes flick up to yours, see their sincerity, and glimmer with something you can’t quite place

· ‘It seems, mon bonheur, we have a deal.’

· ‘Mon bebe, did you remember the gadgets I made for you? The ones with the discrete beacon that integrates with my network. In the leather case?’

‘Yes Chamber, I did, see? Right here’

‘And you’ve gone through the exit strategies? Through tower, towards arcade, extraction fro-‘

‘from A gate, yes Chamber. It’s okay. I’ve memorised the briefs,’ you finish.

‘And what about weapon conditio-‘

‘Vincent.’

· You place your hands firmly on either side of his face and bring him in close. He lets you, eyes pricked with concern and fear.

· ‘My love, I can handle this. It’s just another mission. This is literally our job.’

· Chamber very consciously takes a big breath in, and lets it go.

· ‘I know, mon chouchou, I just worry.’

· He insists on being set up on the same site as you, as a precaution, of course

· You turn around from your setup and sure enough, a rendezvous beacon is set up near your position

· ‘Chamber! I need to be able to manoeuvre around site, I can’t have your tech crowding my-‘

‘Just a precaution mon amour’

· Eventually, familiarity kicks in and the move stabilises. Nesting up high, you keep your rifle trained on the bottleneck to the site.

· You hear Chamber’s voice, smooth and warm in your ear, relaying through early information that there’s nothing amiss

· It’s not exactly the sweet nothings he whispers when you’re alone, but it’s really nice to have him close in moments like these

· You mutter a half-hearted joke, and he chuckles gently. Even though it’s totally inappropriate, hearing him laugh sends those pleasant tingles up your spine

· The moment is cut short when you catch movement across the courtyard. ‘Hold up, I have something here.’

· Another few seconds of tense silence pass before you hear the tell-tale shriek of Skye’s hawks. They found something. Shit shit shit.

· ‘Chamber, you there?’

· It’s only a moment delay but your anxiety peaks until you here a quick ‘yes mon bijou, just dealing with a scout, I don’t think-‘

· Your world is knocked sideways, ears ringing. How the fuck did they get on site?!

· Over the comms, you manage to make out a strangled ‘we’ve got shit here from mid, gotta regroup’ from Skye

· As the stun wears off, you swear and retrain your rifle on the courtyard, now littered with smoke

· Is that…? Instinct kicks in, and you triangulate the flicker of an assailant’s shoulder to land your shot through the smoke, hearing a grunt and a thud that could only have been the enemy Breach. One down, but where the hell is your backup.

· Chamber’s voice comes in again, spiking with panic as he yells the coordinates he picked up from his alarm

· Shit, that’d pincer him from behind. Checking your map, your three colleagues are all occupied or too far away.

· You curse again and leap from the ledge, pistol out as you forge through the smokes and make your way towards your partner’s gadget

· Favouring urgency over stealth, you hear a couple of shots ricochet off the metal near you. Someone must be spraying. Not good

· You grit your teeth and keep running, full pelt into the smoke to get to the hold point

· A sting in your left shoulder doesn’t give you time to register before agony, white hot, flashes through your abdomen. You’re in too much pain to track how many bullets must have shredded through your armor, instead opting to stumble behind cover and yank out the recon dart from the enemy Sova’s bloody owl drone

· Shielded from bullets clattering off the entryway like some awful hailstorm, you force out a couple of shuddering breaths and scramble around for a pressure pack to hastily reattach

· The thick smoke starts to disperse, and you take the moment to swing wide and catch the enemy Sova in the neck.

· God. You hate seeing him crumple, reconciling that with the polite man you see around the protocol common rooms. The one that helped you with your shots when you were still finding your feet. There’s an awful sort of irony in that

· The world starts to throb louder and harsher and you make to turn around

· A sharp kick to the back sends you crashing to the cold compound floor. You let out an involuntary cry as your wound gets jolted, and you start to feel the sharp pain become a dull roar

· ‘Well well well,’ the enemy Yoru’s voice coos from behind you. ‘The fabled marksman finally graces us with their presence.’

· Any hope you have of responding is strangled out by a sharp kick to your good side

· ‘I would have hoped you’d put up a bit more of a fight. I guess the setups you train with are pretty rudimentary, wouldn’t you sayyyy’

· You manage to hiss out a strained ‘fuck, you,’ which is promptly met with a heavy boot pressing into your back

· ‘You’re in no position to negotiate, loser. I know they told me to bring you back alive, but I’m sure our Sage can work something out…’

· You bite back hot tears of frustration. You always knew this was a possibility, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating to be so at the mercy of the mirror agents

· The breath in your ear is hot and triumphant

· ‘Either way, you’re ours now. What do you say to th-‘

· Yoru’s taunts are cut off with a sharp intake of breath, and the weight on your back is abruptly lifted with a thud from behind

· A very familiar voice rings out, but it’s not the warm and flirty tone you’re used to. It’s laced with ice and venom

· ‘You do not. Touch them. You do not.’

· It sounds like the hit he landed on Yoru was pretty bad, as the enemy agent manages only a wet gurgle

· ‘You do not go near them. You do not go near them. You have no idea how critical of an error you have made.’

· Even through the blood rushing through your own ears, the words command the space around the three of you and everything is silence.

· You start as a shape thuds down beside you. From the corner of your eye, you see Yoru plunged face first into the ground, cheek smushed painfully against the cool metal. You hear the click of a silencer, and muster just enough strength to turn and see Chamber pinning him down

· Eyes wild and dark, bits of hair pulled from their tight hold and suit absolutely ruined, Chamber holds his headhunter against the back of Yoru’s skull

· ‘The only thing, clone, that stops me from putting this bullet through your head, is the fact that you will be serving as a cautionary tale to the rest of your precious crew’

· At the sound of a gunshot, you flinch, and the Yoru lets out a whimper

· ‘It’s just a leg wound, clone. I’m sure Sage can work something out’

· Satisfied with his work on Yoru, Chamber turns to you

· ‘Oh, mon tresor, shhhh, please, be here with me, be here with me’

· His voice now is so very gentle and soft and scared as he kneels next to you, hands gently checking your vitals and brushing your hair back to get a better look at your face

· You make to get up, but at this point your body has gone into shock and you can only manage out a strangled grunt

· ‘No no mon bebe, it’s okay, I have you, I have you, I’m here now, it’s okay, shhhh, let me’

· His voice is cracking at this point, but he manages to ease you onto your back, and then up against the wall, as gently as he can

· ‘Vincent, y-‘ as you go to reach for him he leans in and stops you, panic flashing across his face

· ‘no no if you do that you’ll bleed more, please just let me’

· As hard as it is to stay focused at this point, you can make out his hands trembling as he checks your bandages and starts to apply pressure. Every time you hiss in pain, he winces reflexively and keeps muttering consolations under his breath

· ‘Skye, I need you now’

‘Yeah uh sure I just -fuck- taking down their Neo- oh jeezers fucking chr-‘

‘Skye, I need you now’

· As you wait for Skye, Chamber stays as close to you as he possibly can, gently brushing hair and tears out of your eyes, peppering the top of your head with kisses, tapping your cheek softly but urgently when he sees you drifting

· It’s by far the most distraught you’ve ever seen him, barely able to form sentences as he tries to keep himself together for your sake

· Once you finally get back to base and stabilise, he does not leave your line of vision. Like, at all. For maybe a week.

Naw, the opportunity’s too good to pass up.

“Chamber, darling, that weapon really is like its owner—you’re not going to find any imperfections there. Lost cause if you ask me.”

Without looking up, the man allows a small smile to tug the corner of his mouth.

“Oh believe me, mon canard, if I could be certain of that I would not be here. A person that cuts corners in this line of work is a corpse.”

“And yet, Phoenix and Yoru seem to be doing fine.”

“Touché.”

“Anyway, we’ve got your back, Angel. Not gonna give you up or let you down with hair so perfect it looks like it came straight from god.”

Chamber scoffs, and gives the gun a final appraisal, running his fingers along the barrel before he sets it back in the holster. “I trust you as much as I trust my tech. A healthy serve, but not the only thing on my plate.”

“Oh ye of little faith, Chamber.”

As he moves to quality check on his calling cards, you sigh and fiddle with your own pistol, idly spinning the fixings on the barrel and twiddling the ammo through your fingertips. He was always so focused when it came to missions… which was fine.

You don’t know why it wouldn’t be fine.

Why wouldn’t it be fine?

As the ship starts to land, it jolts you out of your thoughts as Kay/0 comes over the intercom.

“Sights set on Helipad R. Initial sweep from sensors indicates no hostiles on ground. Preparing to land.”

“Hear that pretty boy?” you turn to him. “Beach holiday has just moved up on the agenda.”

“Ahh, if only we had a free moment between all these gunfights to kick back. But alas, mon tresor, we do not.”

“Ugh. Guess I’ll put my bikini away then.” This one does get a mild chuckle from the man. “Now that would be an interesting mission.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t object to a bikini shotgun combo, Chamber? I thought it was kinda trashy but if you’re into that kind of thing…”

“All wild speculation, my dear,” he says, cutting you off and turning away. “I believe this is our cue to set up.”

“Well you’re no fun,” you pout. “Didn’t think Angels were supposed to be so dry and humourless.”

“Plenty of time for frivolities after the mission, ma puce.”

You swing your legs over the side, and land softly in the sand. Stretching and yawning, you take a moment to fully appreciate the ocean breeze and direct sunlight after hours cooped up. Nothing quite like having actual open space to stretch your legs—it was a novelty you could rarely indulge in in your covert lifestyle.

Maybe a beach trip would be nice sometimes.

Starting to move your way over to the bomb site with a massive pillar and old crumbling castle walls, you begin to scope out where you’ll need to put your util once the enemies arrive. You notice with satisfaction that there are a few cracks in the architecture which could be used to hide some shit if it came down to it.

A clean click lets you know that Chamber has started putting his trademarks around the entrances.

“Ah, the Angel returns from yonder, here to grace us with his presence and wisdom~ welcome great one.” You do an exaggerated bow to punctuate the bit.

“I believe Reyna said enemies were on their way, mon chou. I’m here to keep us alert and alive.”

“Have it your way, I’m trying to keep us dripped up and hot as fuc-“

You’re cut off by one of Chamber’s alarms pinging, and you whirl around to get an angle on the main entrance to site. Sure enough, recon bolt has lodged in the cobblestone and you can hear multiple footsteps hurtling around the corner.

“Fuck me. Viper we’ve got shit here, we’re gonna need you to cover.”

“Copy but it’s gonna take me a bit.”

You swear under your breath. “Chamber, where you at?”

The voice comes back through gritted teeth. “My apologies, mon bijou, we have a fair bit of company in elbow.”

You go to make a snarky remark along the lines of ‘where’s a good guardian angel when you need one’ before instinct takes over and you jerk back to avoid a slurry of bullets from the main entrance. Fuck.

A malevolent arcane hiss from around the corner tells you all you need to know—the mirror Reyna is fully on your ass right now.

Counting the three beats like your Reyna taught you, you prime your pistol and set up for an angle. You take your moment and peek the corner, firing your own spat of bullets. You hear a hiss of pain and grunt in satisfaction—probably clipped her shoulder.

You draw back, back pressed against the cold stone as you reload and gather your breath. About to take a step out to fire again, something screams in the back of your mind and you whirl around just in time to shift as Reyna’s knife embeds not in your chest, where it would have stuck, but into the top of your left shoulder.

You let out a hard grunt of pain as Reyna’s eyes pierce yours, whirling with bloodlust, hate and satisfaction. Fucking bitch.

“Fucking bitch,” you hiss out under your breath, and use the moment her gaze finds yours to get a left hook in against her jaw. She reels back, drawing her knife back. Using the momentum, you push through the pain to aim a sharp kick into her chest and send her off balance, lunging in.

Reyna’s quick on the recovery, quicker than you’d expected, and she grabs your bad shoulder and uses it to pivot you, slamming your back against the wall and pinning you there. Her thumb pushes into your open wound, eliciting a strangled gurgle for you as you fight the waves of pain.

You retaliate with a kick to the shins, and as the woman in front of you doubles down you bring your knee up to connect with her jaw. You allow yourself a small, petty grin hearing the crack and watching her stumble back, dazed.

As you do, a white-hot pain sears through your side and thuds out through the rest of your body. You look down to see her knife, this time jammed to the hilt in your lower abdomen. Oh, that’s not ideal.

You turn back to see her face contorted in a wild grin, wiping the smear of blood from the side of her mouth.

Something in you just snaps.

Biting the inside of your cheek to take the edge off the pain in your side, you lurch forward once more. With an uncanny surge of strength, you yank the knife from your side and in the same fluid movement, you arc your arm up and draw it across her clavicle.

Reyna barely has time to let out a raspy yelp before you’ve unholstered your pistol and fired three shots into her head.

The body crumples to the ground.

You stand there, numbly, blood roaring in your ears as your brain works to make sense of the bloody scene in front of you. And then the pain comes flooding back with a vengeance. You let out a strangled cry as a wave crashes over you, starting in your side and blossoming out to every nerve ending in your body.

You can feel your legs giving out and your vision growing dim, and so you make your best attempt to stumble back in an effort to get stable against a wall. Something. Anything.

Arms catch you.

Your back thuds against a chest, steady against your form as it starts to shake involuntarily. A voice comes through, warm in your ear like honey.

“Easy now mon tresor, I have you. Slowly now.”

Ugh, of course.

“I thought you were supposed to be the one falling from the sky, my angel…” you manage out with a wet chuckle.

“Falling is an interesting way of putting it, mon bebe. I wouldn’t let you fall alone. Save your voice now though, you need to be still so I can stop the bleeding, no?”

You go to respond but the pain hits you like a truck, so you opt to let Chamber gently settle you against the cobbled wall and start to check your injuries. He isn’t able to conceal a small huff of concern as he clocks the blood soaking rapidly through your shirt from your stomach and shoulder. In spite of everything, you still find yourself enjoying the closeness as his worried eyes flick over you.

God, you can’t help yourself.

“Hey now angel, don’t worry about me too much yeah? We’ve got healers and shit at base, and 50/50 Sage has the res online anyway.”

The last comment, your slightly ham-fisted attempt at dark humour, has his eyes flashing with something almost unplaceable.

“I am not, under any circumstances, going to let you go through that mon etoile. Not now, not ever. Please, stay still so I can stabilise you, I’m not losing you like this.” If your ears weren’t deceiving you, you could have sworn there was a scratch in his voice by the end of that last bit.

Fumbling through his med kit, Chamber stretches his role of gauze and pulls up your shirt for access.

“Deep breath, mon chouchou. This will likely not tickle.”

No shit sherlock. You grit your teeth and try to temper your strangled grunts of pain as Chamber applies pressure to the wound and begins to wrap. You’d never been hurt this bad before, but it was a point of pride at this point to keep up the stoic façade.

Chamber seals the first strip and gets to work on your shoulder. Your heart rate has abated enough that as he leans in, you manage to whisper;

“See? Knew you were my guardian angel.”

Chamber draws back, and that look in his eyes has returned. It’s fierce, and passionate, and holds a surprising amount of warmth for someone who is only ever professionally charming. When he speaks, it’s so quiet it’s almost to himself.

“Mon coeur, angels will only ever watch from above. I would rather be doomed to my mortality and die a horrible death than spend a single day in paradise without you next to me.”

Oh did he just.

OH.

Despite everything, you still have enough blood in circulation to feel it all flood to your cheeks, completely and utterly speechless for the first time in god knows how long.

“Chamber, yo-  the—my angel y—”

Nope, words gone. He got you good.

Snapping back from his moment of intensity, Chamber seems to finally register the effect his words have on you. Despite the concern, he allows himself a small grin.

“Oh? I see mon amour is finally quiet for once. If you’ll allow me to share this moment with you?” He leans in, ever so gentle and careful to avoid your injuries, head cocked to the side in a silent question.

You close the distance, pressing your lips against his with a hunger that he returns tenfold. His lips are soft, his hands move to cup your cheek so gently and he’s all around you, beautiful and ethereal and overwhelming.

At long last, you draw back. As much as your injuries hurt, you can’t keep the smile from splitting across your face as you hold his warm brown eyes in your gaze.

“You have a little bit of blood dribbling down your chin, mon biquet.”

“Shut up Angel face.”

Also loves shopping sprees, so be prepared to be dragged out and dressed up for hours. This man will miss no opportunity to admire you and flirt pretty shamelessly. He bankrolls the whole affair, of course.

The few times you’ve been able to slink into the room without him noticing, your ears would be burning because this man is literally just telling anyone who’ll listen how cute you are. If you do finally clear your throat, the man goes absolutely pink before doubling down

Oml this man can get handsy. He’s obsessed with tracing your dimples and curves and just literally cannot get enough of you

He loves it when you do the same to him too. If you go to cup his cheek or trace his collarbone, he goes completely still and lowkey short circuits. It’s like he wants to focus on nothing but your hand and where it meets his skin

One of his favourite things to do is to have you sit on his lap facing him, maximising that physical contact and being able to see your startling eyes. He could stay that way for hours, just having someone so beautiful and precious so close to him, with such a warm smile

When he’s feeling a little low, he really loves to lay his head in your lap and just have you hold him. He’ll murmur conversation when he can, or maybe just fall asleep if you’re okay with it, but he’s realised that it’s the one thing that can calm him down

He’s someone who struggles to verbalise his insecurities, but having you there and being so close to you really helps him unwind and talk things through

Phoenix

Phoenix doesn’t give two flying fucks about what the rest of the protocol thinks when it comes to you. He reasons that if they wanted in, they should have tried to romance you sooner

Massive on the PDA. He’s a tall mofo, and so he absolutely loves coming up from behind when you’re in the middle of talking to someone, draping his arms over you and resting his chin on your head

Makes no move to address whatever the other person might be doing, he just grins and relishes the fact that he managed to score you and you’re right there in front of him

If Phoenix has had a good day, like clutched a mission for the protocol or hit the high score on the range, one of his favourite things to do is sidle up to you, wrap his arm around your waist and bring you in for a massive snog. He can’t help but make a beeline for you whenever he’s feeling great

Same if you’ve had a big win tbh, he just loves being able to celebrate things with you and get kisses

Legit, he’s been chastised by Brim for crowding the intercom on missions together, because he takes the opportunity to flirt shamelessly with you, crowing about how damn good you look on site. “Eyo, not to alarm the squad but we got a looka’ in hookah”

As serious as the disciplinary meeting afterwards is supposed to be, you’re definitely struggling to hide a grin. The winks your boyfriend keeps shooting you whenever Brim isn’t looking don’t exactly help either.

Loves to bury his head in your chest and wrap his arms around your midsection. Like he’ll hit you with the full puppy eyes from across the room, or spam your datapad if he can’t find you in person, because you’re his recharge point and he’s down bad.

Loves loves LOVES it when you snuggle up on his lap. He’ll run his hands through your hair and absent-mindedly trace these flame patterns across your forehead while he chats away about the recent mission

Phoenix also adores being big spoon—one of his favourite things on a lazy afternoon is to slink off to your room, press up real close against you and shape his body around yours. Bonus points when he does this in winter—the protocol can get bloody cold, and having his chest against your back is so nice and warm

Sova

Sova is such a beautiful and honest person that the entire protocol know exactly how smitten he is with you

He literally cannot keep his eyes off you when you’re in the room. Like he watches you with the warmest, softest smile and is always quietly padding over to you to put a gentle hand on the small of your back

He tries to be considerate of the protocol and will temper his PDA in public, but that doesn’t stop him from constantly finding his way close to you and just having one point of contact, whether it’s a hand holding yours or his chest brushing yours as he leans over you

When you’re alone or have a more secluded area, he’s a total cuddle bug. He’ll pad up to you and wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and huffing a contented sigh

Insane cuddle stamina too, like if you switch around to face him and go in for a hug he will take it in and hold you for maaaany minutes. You’ll often feel his arms lock in around yours and his heartbeat start to stabilise against chest. Occasionally you catch him mutter something softly in Russian

Loves it when you cup his face in your hands, and will just drink in the eye contact with a goofy smile. He doesn’t usually get giggly, but if you start peppering kisses on his nose and forehead he can’t help but let out a little chuckle (he definitely returns the favour)

Sova’s not the neediest person, but sometimes he genuinely needs to hold you after a particularly tough mission.

After the Fade mission, in fact, he turns up at your room looking gaunt and the frightened look in his eye almost breaks your heart right there and then.

It wasn’t often you guys got scheduled on the same mission. Don’t get me wrong, your synergy was great—some of the best teamwork in the Protocol in fact. It was more that you were both so invaluable that Brim often needed you chaperoning the more… trigger happy members of your organisation.

God it was nice being able to wake up next to her. You’d saved yourself a lot of stiffness by taking yourselves off to Sage last night. For the first time in however long then, you had yourselves a morning off.

The smallest grumble from across the bed draws your attention, and you see Skye stir on the pillow next to you. Her eyes crinkle blearily as she tugs the blankets back around her.

You smile gently and brush a little bit of hair out of her eyes. Before you can retract your hand, she reaches up and grabs it, locking your fingers and murmuring something soft that ends in “…morninggg.”

“Hey sleepyhead. Missed morning run alarm huh?”

This draws angrier grunts as she rolls the blankets around, pushing her head closer to your chest to block out the light. “MmmMMmmmbb,” she mumbles.

Usually Skye’s ready to crack on with a run, so you decide to make the most of the moment to tug her in closer and run your hand through her hair. She leans into the touch and hums.

“Wanna stay in a bit?” she whispers.

“Of course,” you smile.

After a while, she makes another grumble and shifts over to press her back up against you. The loose night shirt tugs down and exposes her neck and shoulders, filled with scars and scrapes. Almost absent-mindedly, you start running your fingers across the various ridges, tracing currents down her skin.

She chuckles. “The perks of havin’ an aviary.”

“Where did you get these ones anyway? Didn’t think we’d been melee’d that many times on the field recently,” you chuckle.

“Oh these? Nah, they’re old news.” She tugs the shirt further back to reveal the marks that pepper her shoulders. Your little huffs of concern are met with an easy smile.

“They don’t hurt anymore ya goof, these are from my days as a hiking guide. Someone’s kid got himself somewhere he shouldn’t, and I might have gone a bit past OH&S requirements to get him out of a pretty tight cave. Granite’s a bitch.”

She moves your hand to a thick, textured indent on her left shoulder. “This one, I got from an overly ambitious bike outing. To be fair, it was a pretty sick jump, I can show you the video if I can dig it up.”

“You videoed that?” you ask, incredulously.

“My mate did,” she chuckles. “Funniest shit I ever seen.”

“What about this one on the back?” you ask, tracing a big gash through her upper back. You ask it jokingly, but you’re met with a surprisingly serious expression.

“Shit, Skye, is that off-limits? My bad- I didn’t mean to dredge up-“

“Nah fam, you’re right. Just a vicious encounter I’d prefer to forget.”

“Realm? Mirrors?”

“Worse. Australian wildlife.”

What the fuck could be deadlier than some universe’s Reyna? You gotta know. “What the fuck did that one Skye.”

“God, these things are so rare I couldn’t fucken believe I ran into one,” she starts up. “Dead of night, day three of the gnarliest fucken bush bash I’ve ever been on. I go off to find a place level enough to bury the team’s poo-“

“Skye that’s fucken nasty,” you cut in.

“Naw naw, listen though. We had head torches and shit right? Not much is gonna fuck you up if you make noise—snakes tend to stay the fuck away and kangas are more interested in beefing with each other anyway. But there was this weird rustling, right?”

“Mm.” You’re riveted.

“And there was just something about it. My heart dropped and I think I kinda knew what I was in for. God, even thinking of it now makes my blood run cold. As slowly as I could, no sudden moves, I looked up towards the branches. The torch cut across these eyes. Fuck. I can still remember exactly the way they lit up in the gumtrees. The low growl that seemed to come from everywhere. Bone white claws and tusks live with spittle.”

“Oh my god, Skye. What was it,” you say softly.

“Stuff of Australian legends, girlie. The tyrant of the bush. The hunter of the canopy.”

Here, she pauses, and takes a deep breath, looking at you dead on.

“The drop… bear.”

You look at her for a full ten seconds, coming to terms with the enormity of what she’s just said. She looks at you, trying to remain as impassive as she can but not quite as a small, rakish smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Skye.”

“Love of my life.”

“I can’t believe you just fucking tried to drop-bear me-“

“Successfully, drop-beared you,” she shoots back.

“-believe you successfully drop-beared me in the year of our lord 2-“

You’re cut off with a flurry of kisses, as the pair of you can barely supress grins and giggles. Skye peppers kisses all over your face as you squirm in mock-protest, until you both dissolve into a pile of pillows and blankets and laughs.