Work Text:
It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment her perspective shifted. It was one thing to say, when you awake as a guardian, whomever you were in your past life is gone, and another to put it into practice.
Especially when you knew the person that guardian had been in the very recent past.
Especially when you were the reason that person had died.
Of all the things Crow had learned (mostly against his will) about who he was before he awoke to the Light, that was one thing she was glad he had not discovered.
Which was a whole other mess for her mind and her heart to work out. It was hard enough at the start seeing the face of the man who she had hunted, had chased over the stars with hatred in her heart and revenge in her hands. Hands that had fired the Ace of Spades into Uldren Sov until he breathed no more.
Uldren Sov had been proud. Haughty. A prince in his status and his manner.
And now this man who wore his face was hissing at having scorched his fingertips on the crackling campfire after adding a log. He sheepishly blew on them as Glint shook his small chassis with a chiding air.
“I told you to use a smaller log.”
“By all means, show me how it is done, Sparky.”
Glint couldn’t scowl, but the way his edges tightened and he groaned said well enough that he hated the endearment.
“That’s what I thought.” Crow said with a grin, catching her eye as she watched him. The expression softened, his voice lowering, “How’s it coming?”
Right. She was supposed to be mixing up the stew. Pulled from her thoughts, she returned to stirring, mixing packets of dried vegetable and meat rations into the stock that was, in truth, mostly water. It was a typical meal for guardians on the ground. And… well, despite Zavala having learned of Crow’s real identity, it was too risky still to have him walking around the tower.
He’d needed to “get out and stretch his legs” as he called it, and so here she was. Camped out in the EDZ with the Lightbringer formerly known as Uldren Sov. The man she had killed. And now the man she was stupidly, and irreversibly already half in love with.
There had been moments. Lots of moments. Too many moments.
First she’d thought the affection stemmed from the fact he looked up to her. Just another new Lightbearer with an awed respect for the Young Wolf, Hero of the Red War, the “Chosen One”… it wasn’t like she had set out to be any of those things. She had just done what needed to be done. She recalled she told him that once and he had chuckled with such… fondness. His voice pitching low then as it did now or whenever they were alone.
Like their conversations were a secret. His words for her ears alone.
She set the pot over the flame on it’s hanger, noting that despite Glint’s criticisms, the flame was high enough and hot enough to use.
“You seem distracted tonight.” Crow said, letting his hood fall back. Even in the dark his eyes glowed faintly, the color of a sunrise.
She told herself the shiver that ran up and down her arms was from the chill in the air.
“I’ve never been a talker.” She said and settled back down next to him. It was near enough that one of them only had to reach out to touch the other. It would be too obvious to move now, she thought with a silent curse, frowning to herself.
“Is that so?” Crow said, his voice so earnest that for a moment she didn’t realize he was teasing her until she looked up and saw the faint smile on his lips.
Her traitorous heart skipped. Where was her Ghost? For that matter, where was Glint? They had both been here a moment ago.
“I thought… well… I thought maybe you were regretting bringing me along. I can’t say that last shot at the Fallen was my best moment.”
She had nearly forgotten. It was a small skirmish, something she could have easily taken solo. A Captain had swiped in close, nearly taking her arm off with his sword. Crow’s shot had missed, but it had forced the Captain back, giving her enough time to dispatch the Fallen herself. She had been surprised, but hadn’t given it more thought than that.
But now, in the dim light, she could see the same expression on Crow’s face he had worn when he came down from his perch and helped her bandage the shallow wound. It hadn’t been embarrassment, or even quite disappointment… but something else. Something deeper than friendly concern.
“It still saved me a very uncomfortable rez.” She said and the Crow just nodded, his brow pinched slightly as he cast his eyes aside. She turned, tilting her head to try to get back into his line of sight.
“Hey, I mean it. I would have regretted not bringing you along. This is so much better than being off on my own.”
Surprise flashed over his features, a deeper shade of indigo spreading across his cheeks. She suddenly found herself wishing a Taken portal would open up and swallow her whole. She turned away before he could see the same flush spread over her own face.
“… I agree.” Crow said and she risked another look over at him. He was smiling.
“The nice thing about being out of Spider’s lair— well, one of the nice things— I get to see you more often.”
She didn’t know what to say. The silence between them was only broken by the faint chirping of insects, the crackle of the fire and the faint bubbling sound of their dinner. Crow was looking at his hands, fidgeting with his gloves and picking at the fabric.
“Anyway. I appreciate that you humor a kinderguardian like me.” Crow began, his voice tinged with forced humor to hide the deprecation, “Letting me tag along—“
“I like it too.” She said, the words coming out so fast it came out more as “liketoo” than a comprehensive sentence.
The Crow had stopped fidgeting. The insects and the fire were overloading her senses again.
“… I really respect you. As a guardian, as a comrade. And… And I like to think of you as a friend.” Crow continued, “…and I like to think of you.”
He stopped.
“You like to think of me as—?” She prompted, breath held in her lungs.
He smiled, “That’s all. I like to think of you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Crow’s confession had brought a permanent heat to his cheeks, his expression softening as if he were marveling that he managed to even get the words out. She was marveling them too. Or more like, feeling her thoughts collapse inward on themselves like a black hole.
“What... um. What does that mean?” She said, feeling dumb and fumbling and definitely not like someone with the title of “Godslayer”.
“I… “ he began, but whatever it was that had slipped forward was beginning to retreat once more, “…well, I… it’s… just a sentiment I suppose.”
It was now or never.
“I think about you too. Often. A lot. I think about you a lot. And… I know I’m this ‘role model’ and thought of as this untouchable big damn hero and everyone— no. Look. The point is, me too.”
To his credit, the Crow listened to her outburst with quiet attentiveness, even nodding once or twice in understanding.
“It just seems impossible.” He said at last, shrugging slightly, “I can’t imagine why someone like you—”
“Don’t look at the pedestal.” She said, her voice firm, “Just look at me. C’mon, you’ve seen how I eat. I talk in my sleep too, I know I do. I never clean my guns right and I’ve had half a dozen sparrow related rezes because I’m a shitty driver.”
That last one got a laugh.
“So let’s just focus on the win here, yeah? You like me.” She waited until the Crow picked up on the prompt and he nodded, confirming it, “And I like you. Now it’s out there.”
Crow let out a breath that turned into a nervous laugh, “It’s definitely out there.”
When it became apparent neither one of them knew how to go on, there was a soft sigh from somewhere nearby. Glint and her own Ghost glided out from the trees, coming to perch near their guardians.
“And what were you two doing?” Crow said, clearly relieved for a subject change.
“Oh, just— just patrolling.” Glint said hurriedly, earning what could be imagined was a wry look from her own Ghost. He turned that look on her then as if to silently say, Really?
She had a funny feeling why the pair had left them alone.
A day had become a week and then a week had easily fallen into the next. Devrim had even radioed in at one point to tell them to “leave some for the rest of us” after the fourth Fallen patrol they had decimated.
They worked well together, the awkwardness of the night before fading into routine. It surprised her how natural such a foreign concept like touch was to them. A bump on the shoulder with a closed fist, a silent congratulations for a good shot. The brush of their hands when they passed ammo or a water canteen. The touch of his arm, brushing against her own perhaps every thirteenth of a second when they walked too close together.
Even at the campfire they slowly had begun to draw nearer and nearer, their orbit closing in on the other. His, with an innocent like curiosity. Her own interest decidedly less innocent, but also still— cautious. She felt the pull of his light, new and bright. Her own had not shimmered so in a long time… he was naive, young and rash. He needed looking after, not another responsibility. The point driven even further home now by the way he teetered unsteadily even sitting.
Devrim had sent a patrol over to meet them with fresh supplies. One of them being a bottle of something he called “Gulchshine” which, judging by the smell, was maybe only one molecule away from pure ethanol. Crow hadn’t drank since he was revived. Which was the same as saying he’d never drank before at all.
“This is disgusting. I can’t stop drinking it.” Crow said, his voice not so much slurred as it was relaxed. Open and unguarded.
“What is that? Is that lemon? Or is it just my taste buds dying?”
“It… definitely seems like lemon.” She said, giving a tiny sip to the cup in her own hand. There was a citrus like bite beneath the taste of rubbing alcohol, but it was not near sweet or sour enough to mask the bitterness of the clear liquid.
“Like someone whispering the word ‘lemon’ from another room.” Crow murmured and took another sip, a shudder going over him as he swallowed. He brought the bottle to his lips again and with a chuckle, she leaned nearer and said in a soft voice,
“Lemon."
Crow nearly choked on his laugh. It was a nice sound, one she didn’t hear often enough from him.
“That exactly.” He said after he’d caught his breath, turning towards her with a grin. The smile faded at the realization of how close they were. His eyes half-closed and dreamy in their regard as he lifted a hand up to brush back a strand of hair from her face.
She could smell the alcohol on his warm breath, the moss of the greenery around them, the fresh air… could feel the warmth from the Earth beneath them and from his hand on her cheek. She reached out, holding him by the chin to keep him in place as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss, as faint as the sweet taste of citrus, on his lips.
She had not expected to do that. She equally did not expect him to curl his hand behind her head and pull her in, his mouth already open for another kiss which she happily provided. Crow groaned, an involuntary and needful sound. Desperation. She could taste it in his kiss, in the way he tentatively returned the soft touch of her tongue, inexperienced but so eager to learn. To feel. To be touched. He craved it in every gasp, every pull of his fingers through her hair. He wanted to be touched— with tenderness, with kindness. His body lit with it, his breathing fast and quick and his touch edging towards rough in its eagerness. Like he couldn’t get close enough. A wanting so strong and so foreign and yet familiar. She felt him struggle with it— with his body knowing vaguely what it wanted but his mind struggling to keep up.
So she guided him. Over and over. Kissing not just his lips but the highpoint of his cheek and the juncture where his jaw met his neck. She let her teeth rasp over his pulse, thready and rapid at his throat and relished in the way he shivered. She wasn’t sure when she had been settled into his lap, only that she enjoyed the way it made her just a fraction taller.
They were wearing too many clothes. She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every expanse of his skin until he remembered her touch more than he remembered any bullet or beam or weapon that had ever struck him. The sudden movement of her hands to the hem of his shirt had an immediate sobering effect, his body going rigid beneath her.
“… too fast.” She said, nodding half at her self. She let her hands slide back up, resting her arms around his shoulders. Crow swallowed thickly and she repressed the urge to kiss his neck all over again.
“I’ve never— I mean, not since…”
It made perfect sense. His uncertainty mixed with certainty. Moments of lucidness where he no doubt remembered past lovers, past kisses, and then for them to fade like starlight from his grasp. Despite the confession, the Crow didn’t look daunted, his hands still clutching to her waist.
“Do you want to stop?” She asked, shifting her weight back.
“I…“ Crow paused, his pupils blown wide, an eclipse on a sunset sky, “… I just want to touch you. Is… is that okay?”
“That’s okay.” She said, pressing a kiss to his jaw and relishing in the way he relaxed beneath her hands. His arms held her so tightly, their ribs pressed together hard enough for there to be a faint spark of pain. She didn’t care.
His fingers had found a spot beneath her collar, seeking out the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She turned her cheek against his, pressing and rubbing her lips against him more than actually kissing. Crow seemed dazed, a soft hum coming from his throat as she felt his eyelashes brush against her skin, his eyes closing.
“Is everyone this warm?” He asked, unthinking, “Sorry— weird quetion.”
“Probably has something to do with the Gulchshine.”
She pulled back, placing her hands on either side of his face and noting the warmth radiating from his skin.
“You’re flushed down your neck.” She said, observing the darker blue color that bloomed out over his skin.
“I’m not that drunk.”
She rose an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t drunk, just not that drunk.”
“So is this for me then?”
He didn’t answer, a sputter dying in his throat as he shook his head.
“I lied. I’m drunk.”
She laughed and kissed him again, just to be sure and he breathed into it like she was the very air he needed. An arm around her waist, his hand tangled in her hair, he followed her kiss by kiss, learning his own rhythm and occasionally trying something new. Discovering how he liked to kiss her. How he liked to be kissed back. It felt important. It felt special. These things only heightening the very intimacy of the act.
She’d never felt this way just from kissing someone before. Something she imagined they had in common.
“... if I knew it felt this good, I would have done it a long time ago.”
“You really are drunk.”
He made a questioning noise, his mouth too busy testing out the way she has kissed his neck on her own. He licked a long line up to her jaw. She had definitely not shown him that.
“People are more honest when they are drunk.” She clarified, her words veering towards breathless.
“Glitch might have mentioned it.”
At the mention of the ghosts, both guardians froze, eyes drifting to where the two lights were perched, watchful but silent nearby.
They had forgotten they were there.
Oh god they had forgotten they were there.
“Don’t mind us.” Her own Ghost said, voice filled with dry amusement.
“When I said save some for the rest of us, I didn’t think you’d take it literally you know.” Devrim spoke over the coms with a chuckle.
The sudden sound startled the guardian out of her stupor, induced by the rather enthusiastic efforts of the man poised above her. Crow had one hand gently cradled behind her head, baring her neck open to where he was working on a new mark, high on her throat. She had only two others, but if anyone were to open his shirt they would find a regular mosaic of bites and bruises she had placed on his chest and neck.
They were crammed together inside her tent, sheltered from prying eyes but not it would seem, from prying voices. This had become far too common. What time they spent now on the EDZ seemed filled more with stolen touches and kisses, a fact that clearly was becoming evident, if not entirely obvious, to everyone else.
“J-just… taking a break!” She replied, her voice lifting to a high note when Crow traced a hand up over the swell of her breast. Like with his kisses, Crow had moments where his memories broke through and his hands would run across her, finding fastenings and zippers.
Their armor was off, cloaks tangled somewhere in a pile near their heads. Despite that, they had not had a chance to go further than breathless lengthy kisses.
Crow hummed questioningly, rolling off to lay on his side and look down at her. She motioned silently to her ear and mouthed Devrim. Crow’s brow furrowed slightly, a displeased grunt on his teeth before he could real it in.
“Was that gruff remark our dear carrion guardian?” Devrim said, and Crow tapped into the com channel.
“I’m here. Did you need something?” Crow said, barely hiding the annoyance in his voice at the interruption.
“Just curious when you are your fellow light bearer planned to shoot at some Fallen.”
“Later.” Crow said and without another word, cut the com feed. The guardian attempted to protest, but found her words held back with a kiss. She would have been angry, had the searing heat not made her limbs feel liquid, molten and over-warm. She curled her fingers in his hair and licked back into his mouth.
There was a rumble, low in his throat and he rolled his hips roughly between her legs, earning a surprised gasp from her lips.
“Don’t tease me.” She said lowly, lips brushing against his as she spoke.
“I’m not, I’m not.” Crow whispered, a mindless litany in direct opposition to what his hands were doing. Which was pushing one of her thighs open wider to let him grind more easily against her core.
It took her a whole three seconds to realize he was hard, pants tight and tense over his groin.
That was new. Despite her best attempts, he had stayed relatively calm throughout most of their kisses, but now there was an edge to his mouth. A slant to his lips and an eagerness in his touch that made her wonder how much further he was determined to go.
When she slid her hands up underneath his shirt, he arched into the touch rather than freezing as he once would. Still, Crow stopped kissing her, pulling back to meet her eyes, pupils blown wide and dark with an emotion she recognized. Wanting.
She curled her fingers more securely into his shirt, drew it up a few inches. He sat up, reached up behind his shoulders and pulled it off in one smooth movement. He was warm, despite the blue-tint of his skin. She ran just the tips of her fingers up his waist, down the dip of his hips and across his stomach. He shivered when she drew her finger across a scar there… he had many.
“My turn.” She said and he nodded wordlessly and lay down next to her. It was easy enough to change their position, straddling his waist as she sat atop him and pulled her own shirt off. His hands mirrored her previous motions, tracing over her stomach, hesitant to venture further. She took both and put them on her breasts. He didn’t need any further incentive.
The rest of their clothes went shortly after, the ferventness of their kisses interrupted only by a sudden quiet that fell over her as she reached up and brushed her hand through his hair. Her thumb found the scar… the one she had given. It was faint, the star shaped puff of skin faded. A few more rezes and it might leave him forever.
Crow had the good sense not to ask her how she knew it was there.
He had many more. So many. She pressed her lips to every one of them. He was liquid in her hands, relaxed and given over as if he were silently saying, I am yours, do what you will with me.
When she was finished, he bore her down beneath him and aligned them in what he seemed to think was the right position. He seemed correctly.
Crow groaned brokenly, his brow furrowed and his eyes shut tight. He pressed his forehead against hers, barely able to bring himself to move. When he did, it was shallow, hesitant thrusts. It was a close fit, but soon her body relaxed and held him less tightly, giving him the ability to slide out and back in with one smooth movement. He managed it just once before he had to pause.
“Fuck—“
She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever hear him swear, but her thoughts were preoccupied, hyper-focused to the space where they were connected.
“… I can’t—“ he mumbled, embarrassment heavy in his words, “I can’t last. I can’t…”
“Then don’t.” She murmured, dropping kisses over his face with gentle reverence, “Just move. Just let go.”
And he did, moving his hips slowly as she arched up to meet him. They would have plenty of chances to perfect this, but for now, she was pleased just from how she was making shivers go up and down his back. From the higher pitched gasps that occasionally fell unbidden from his mouth when he bottomed out, hips pressing hard against hers.
He didn’t last, spilling inside of her with such intensity his arms trembled. Hell, his whole body was trembling, riding aftershocks of a pleasure he had forgotten as surely as he had forgotten his own name.
She was happy to give at least one memory back to him.
After, he was quiet, holding her to him as he feared she’d leave the moment he let go.
“…I want to— can I—“
He didn’t need to finish the thought. She took his hand and guided it between her legs, his eyes darkening when he felt what could only be his cum mixed in with her wetness. Crow was, as always, a quick study. She needed to guide his touches only for a moment before he picked up the rhythm, dipping his fingers inside of her, the heel of his palm pressed up against her core.
He kissed her lips, her throat, her breasts. He licked her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over and over the peak until the skin was pink and swollen and sensitive. All the while his fingers were coaxing a new flood of wet heat from inside her, especially after he found a spot with the tips of his fingers that made her flinched, but decidedly not with pain. When she was close, she gripped her hand over his, holding him in place as she rocked with increasing desperation into his touch.
It was messy, inexperienced and not always consistent, but it was good. He watched her with rapt attention, marveling in the way her walls clutched and grasped at his fingers when she came. A blush had risen up over her neck and spread down her chest and Crow remarked with heartbreaking sincerity how lovely she looked.
“You already got me into bed, no need to keep flattering me.” She said, breathless but still managing a small laugh.
“This time. I’m banking up my compliments for the next.”
“It’s not like Gambit you dork.” Despite her words, she was grinning.
“Good to know.” He said and kissed her so thoroughly a part of her wondered if it counted towards a finisher bounty, because she was definitely done with.