#silver timeline

It makes kissing him a little tricky. Or rather, it would, if he didn’t hoist you up against him on every occasion. Early on, you’d raise onto your toes and he’d bend down and meet you halfway. But once the courting’s over and the reservations are gone, every kiss is an excuse to pull you to him. It seems to cost him no effort at all.

He’s an active guy, he doesn’t sit down often. But when he does, you take every opportunity to perch in his lap. To sling your arms around his shoulders, sloped like a fine wide mountain range, and lick into his mouth to taste the pleased little sounds he makes. You feel inadequate sometimes, with your small hands trying to map out the whole expanse of his skin, all the freckles and veins and muscle-hard ridges. But he lets you touch your fill, even when you smooth over scars. He lets you touch until he’s hard underneath you, and if he sees the face of shock you make the first time you realize the size of him, he doesn't comment on it.

You're very insistent that you can take the whole him, but he's equally insistent that you take it slow. Because he's watched you wince with just two of his fingers--if only you could make him understand that it's the sweetest kind of ache. All the same, you promise to pace yourself when he finally agrees. He gets two orgasms out of you first--one by tongue and another by fingers. Then and only then does he lay back and let you have your way.

You'd be lying if you said it doesn't appeal to some part of your ego, mounting the biggest stallion in all of UNSC. Knowing that you snagged him. But god, it takes effort. Effort to breathe and relax your muscles, effort not to contort your face lest he start to worry. Halfway down, you tip your head back and close your eyes and suddenly his godawful big hands are firm and steady on your hips, "you got this." Surprised by his voice, you open your eyes and they lock onto his--it's your John, of course, but it's the field leader in him, too. Determined and full of encouragement. You nod and he nods with you. You blush a little at the sight of him, massive and sprawled out beneath you, and he grants you a rare, warm, self-satisfied smile. You imagine yourself made of liquid and slide the rest of the way down, and even though your eyelids flutter at the overwhelming fullness, you can see his whole body strain--tight tendons and flexed muscles and the tips of ears blazing pink.

You swear you can feel him in your fucking lungs. He puts one massive palm to your belly, where the whole of his cock seems to have disappeared, and the unstoppable reflex to clench around the intrusion knocks a groan out of both of you. Neither of you lasts long--it's too much, too full. But it feels like victory as you pant and laugh in awe together.

Illumination was still at ‘Lights Out’ level, and a glance at the one narrow window at the end of his bunk show showed it was still night. There were no klaxons going off and no drill instructors standing over them with batons. Though, that hadn’t happened in years. He sniffed the air for smoke or other gasses, but detected nothing. Then he heard that soft sound of a door.

He sat up and met Nora’s brown eyes, sitting up on her own bunk. She made the sign for J and then 013. He inclined his head in question and she gave a gesture for unknown. Kurt narrowed his eyes in consideration. The facilities were in the opposite direction. Julia left by the exit to outside.

Both he and Nora slipped on their waiting boots and made their way down the line. Other recruits were awake, but didn’t join. Kurt took the lead going out, looking for handlers or other personnel before motioning to Nora it was clear.

There were only so many directions Julia could have gone without immediate detection. They wound up climbing a storm drain to the roof. Over months, recruits had been nudging some of the surveillance equipment to create blind spots. Centimeters at a time so The Watch wouldn’t notice. Kurt suspected Dr. Halsey and her AI assistant noticed, but it didn’t seem to have been mentioned to their drill instructors.

Julia sat on the roof with her knees folded so she could rest her chin on them. “I’m not making a break for it,” she mumbled at Kurt and Nora’s approach.

“This would be a shitty starting point if you were,” Nora said, crouching next to her. “Maybe if you make the jump to the commissary...”

Kurt glanced at the adjacent building, maybe twelve meters away, and considered. They were getting to a point where they could almost make it with a running start.

“What are you doing up here?” Nora asked.

“I had a dream,” Julia said. “Wanted some air.”

Kurt moved to sit on Julia’s other side. “What was it about?” he asked. Nearly everyone hated talking to the camp phycologists, but more of his fellow recruits would talk to him. Sometimes it made them feel better, and that made him feel better.

Julia didn’t talk for several minutes. “Do you ever think about your old name?”

“No,” Nora said, while Kurt admitted, “I don’t remember it.”

Julia pressed her forehead against her folded arms. “A lady was calling for me by a name. I knew it was mine from before I was Julia-013, but I can’t quite remember it, just ‘Julia Ah...’“

“You need to forget that. Dr. Halsey says all the before stuff is a distraction,” Nora said mumbled, eyes focused on an owl swooping in the tree line. “Becoming a Spartan is all that matters.”

“And I want to be a good one,” Julia said. “I just can’t help remembering before, sometimes. I miss my brother.”

Nora shifted uncomfortably while Kurt gently put his hand on Julia’s back, because it seemed like the right thing to do. His instincts were usually right about this sort of thing.

“He always held my hand and kept me safe,” she said, and her voice cracked. “I wish I could remember the name we shared. Ah... Something.”

Kurt rubbed Julia’s back as the three of them sat in silence until they had to get back to their bunks.

Dropship Ares In descent to Camp Currahee, Onyx

Ackerson, Kurt thought to himself. Ackerson was the name Julia had been searching for all those years ago.

There was a jolt of thrusters coming online as the dropship transitioned from the vacuum of space into planetary atmosphere. Safety straps strained against his chest, reminding him of his lack of armor. The regulation uniform was uncomfortable. Its stiff collar chafed his neck, laden with the Lieutenant insignia he didn’t feel was earned. 

He did a scan of the other four, no, five occupants of the transport. Dr. Henry Glassman was absorbed with whatever was on his tablet, while drill instructors Kerrigan and Hardy were discussing the results of some sporting event. Project Hauteclere was in a case next to him. Nora. Or what was left of her. He wondered if a crystal matrix being transported felt like sleep or if it was claustrophobic.

Kurt shook his head a fraction. It was still awkward having to be concerned with emotions. But, back in training, he always had been. John was better at mustering the troops. Kurt had been better at understanding them.

His gaze flickered over to the final occupant of the dropship. Colonel James Ackerson. Kurt’s new superior officer and Dr. Halsey’s replacement.

There was a chance he wasn’t related to Julia, but Kurt knew in his gut this had to be her brother. His age was right. He had the same coloration in skin and hair. Similar bone structure with the high cheekbones, but Julia never had the chance to lose the ‘baby fat’ and gain definition. The question was, did he know Julia had been part of the Spartan II class? It seemed impossible to be a coincidence. Did he know what happened to her?

“Is there something you want to say, Lieutenant Ambrose?” Ackerson asked, noticing the attention and meeting Kurt’s eyes.

There it was, in Ackerson’s eyes. That hostility that Kurt felt directed at him and not at the same time. The sense taking over the Spartan Program was not simply a post, it was personal.