Archive of Our Own ^beta

Knox spotted Hank alone in the cafeteria, nursing a cup of coffee, too early for anyone else to be up yet, aside from Maeve and her cooks. Maybe he was having as much trouble sleeping as Knox was.

He grabbed his own cup and moved to join him, pulling out a chair without asking for permission. They were long past that. "How's the coffee?" he asked as he sat and sprawled back.

"Shitty," Hank said, promptly taking a slug. Then he shrugged. "Strongest in the morning, though."

"And thank fuck for that," Knox agreed, taking a sip and wincing. It was like Maeve burned the shit out of it purposefully, for spite or something.

He took another determined gulp.

Hank watched him with that penetrating look, the one Knox privately thought of as his Deputy Face. Like he was figuring shit out. "So what's the deal with you and Shirl?" he asked, knowing. He knew something, anyway.

"Hell if I know," Knox drawled.

"The sheriff says that when he walked in, Shirl was two seconds from crawling into your lap."

"And fuck him for interrupting just when it was getting interesting," Knox shot back.

Hank smiled, wry. "Yeah." His pause went careful. "I didn't think you two were like that."

"Me neither. But hell, if Shirl's giving you a shot..." Well, you took it. Unless you were a total idiot, you took whatever she gave you and were grateful.

"Yeah," Hank said, like he got it. He probably did. Shirley had a bit of a shine to her and no time for most. Knox bet a lot of folks would jump at the chance. He certainly had.

"It's nice, though," Hank offered, like he wanted to find the silver lining. "Something good in all the shit."

And oh, Knox felt that, in the tiny warm place within him that had been consumed by thoughts of her, though he tried not to look at it too much else he drive himself crazy. "Yeah," he just said, rough. "It would've been nice to figure out what it was."

Hank frowned at that. "You don't think you can?"

"I think I'll be swinging outside Judicial before I get the chance," he said slowly, a truth he'd reconciled himself to. Mostly.

"Sorry, man," Hank said, grim.

Knox nodded in thanks. "It pisses me off that I'll probably never know why, you know? Like, we were just gonna ask the judge about Jules. Maybe see if we could send someone out to look around. Instead we walk in to find her with a knife through her heart. What even is that?"

"You always said they'd punish us for the rebellion."

He had always said that. And he was fucking right. Funny what a cold comfort that was. "Yeah. I guess it feels different when it's your head on the chopping block."

"You could've kept your head down," Hank pointed out. Which was fair. In another version of his life, he'd stayed quiet, the good little worker bee. Maybe in that version, he'd get to live. Instead he'd seen Mechanical falling apart and had chosen to step up, set things right.

Now he'd die for it.

"Yeah," he said, short, because he'd made his choices. He mostly didn't regret them. "That's the thanks I get for keeping the lights on."

"Thanks, though," Hank offered, quiet. "Really. This place was going to shit before you stepped up."

Knox swallowed against the thing suddenly hurting in his throat, just nodding. Because it was true and he'd worked so hard, tirelessly, relentlessly, only for this to be his reward. Branded a murderer and marked for execution after he'd spent fucking decades saving all their asses.

What a fucking farce.

After a moment, Knox tipped his head. "I haven't had the chance to say it, but I see how you've been covering for us. For Shirl," he added, because her mouth would've seen her sent to the mines, if not for Hank. That deserved some acknowledgment.

"Gigantic pains in my ass, the both of you," Hank groused, but it held a lightness to it. Affection.

Knox felt that, his lips quirking. "Keeping your life interesting. You're welcome."

Hank actually snorted, smiling against his will. Then he shook his head, something thoughtful in it. "You're not swinging yet. You should see about Shirl. Just to know."

Something leapt in his chest at the thought, that clarity all he wanted. "Yeah," he said, low. "Yeah, maybe I will."

***

Knox headed for the control room, the back way through the tunnels, intending to check in on Larry and the boys. Ever since their little rebellion started, he'd put them in charge of keeping an eye on the generator and the day-to-day maintenance. Larry could handle it and besides, he may have to take over full-time soon enough. Might as well ease him into the role.

He reached for the control room door handle, which opened too easy—

Because Shirley was barreling out, her momentum carrying her straight into him, bodies connecting even as she pulled herself up short.

"Whoa," Knox said, one arm going to brace her elbow, steadying her as the door swung shut behind her.

Against him, Shirley froze.

And that was something. Ever since she'd kissed him, she'd been shrugging him off, keeping a careful distance between them. But here she was, one hand on his stomach, hips kind of pressed against him as she leaned into him, heat starting to bleed between them. Unmoving.

"Morning, Shirl," he said, soft. "Checking in on Larry?" he asked, looking down at her, so close now.

"What? Yeah," she said, vaguely breathless, but staring at his mouth.

A little flare of heat trailed through Knox at that. So he lowered his head and kind of nuzzled against her as he asked, "He good?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, tilting her face up toward him.

Which, hell. He wasn't above taking that invitation. "Good," he murmured, then turned his head and kissed her.

Shirley made a soft sound that went straight through him, her mouth moving against his, nothing but welcome now despite all her avoidance. So Knox kissed her harder, bringing his free hand up to cup her jaw as he slid his lips over hers, slow and thorough.

She opened her mouth and sucked in a breath and like that, it turned into a real kiss, Knox dipping his tongue in to taste her, sparks sliding through him. He moved his hand from her elbow to her lower back, pulling her against him. Shirley's body went slightly heavier, letting him take her weight as she tangled their tongues together. The slick slide of it made him think of sex—fuck, when was the last time he'd had sex?—the arousal sharp and biting.

Her hand grasped his shoulder as she sucked on his tongue, the suggestiveness going straight through him, tingling at the base of his cock. Knox groaned into the kiss, wishing they were in bed, in a room, somewhere private.

Shirley broke the kiss on a gasp, turning her head, panting harshly. Knox trailed his mouth over her cheek, nuzzling her a little. "Anything you want, Shirl," he offered, low, sucking lightly at her earlobe.

She made some kind of helpless noise and flung herself out of his arms, stalking down the tunnel, shoulders tense.

She didn't look back.

***

After Knox checked in with Larry, he considered. Maybe he'd gone about this the wrong way. He'd asked Shirley why she'd kissed him, putting her on the spot. And she'd totally dodged him, going all shifty about it. Maybe he should've just kissed her back rather than trying to talk about it. Knox was the type of person who liked to understand things before he did them. It tended to cut down on any bullshit. But Shirley always had been more about actions than words. She did things, sometimes before she thought about them, which was great when faced with a failing transformer; less so when fomenting a rebellion.

But hell. Knox was a man of action. He could meet her where she lived.

***

He didn't see her the rest of the morning, which was highly suspicious. So when he walked in to Walk's workshop and spotted her at one of the tables, head bent over something, understanding slid through him. She'd been hiding.

And wasn't that interesting?

Shirley looked over at his entrance, her frame tensing under the red jacket he liked. "Walk's not here," was her greeting, before she promptly turned back to her project.

Knox let the door close, moving down the stairs toward her. "Where'd she go?" he asked, all casual and unimpeachable.

Shirley didn't look up. "Lunch." Which meant she would be a minute. Excellent.

He moved to her side and checked her project—servicing a small 12-volt alternator, totally beneath her skills—then handed her the tiny screwdriver she'd need next, handle first.

Shirley took it sulkily, then did look up at him. "Can I help you?" she asked, going aggressive in that way she did when she wanted to put him on his back foot. But she didn't move away.

Knox quirked his lips, teasing. "Making yourself useful?"

"Everything is shit," she said, flat. "I'm trying to accomplish something." She turned back to the alternator, like it alone held the answers to everything.

He nodded, getting that. "Everything's so out of control, must feel nice to have something simple."

Shirley snapped to him with a glare. "What do you want from me?" she asked, eyes flashing. Going on the offense, to scare him away.

The problem was that Knox knew her. So he just stayed put and calmly said, "I want to make you feel good."

"I don't want to feel good; nothing is good," she shot back, fierce.

He tipped his head. "All the more reason."

"Oh, and you think you're the answer," she mocked.

Knox planted a hand on the table in front of her and leaned in to her space, close enough to feel her heat, but carefully not touching. Her eyes widened as she went perfectly still. "Yes," he said, low.

Her jaw clenched for a moment—gorgeous, he vaguely thought—before she glared at him, brown eyes hot. "You're such a fucking—" Then she made a frustrated noise and leaned up to kiss him.

Part of him wanted to laugh, but he thought that might send the wrong message, so he just softened his mouth and kissed her back, slowing it down, Shirley already so open for him. He leaned into her body, Shirley swiveling to face him as they kissed, tilted their heads and kissed again, a meandering exploration. And like this, with her on one of Walk's tall stools, it was easy to hook her thigh and move her, Knox stepping between her legs and pressing her back against the table.

She arched back, going with it as her tongue curled against his, sending a frisson of heat down his spine. She tasted like frustration and want, kissing him back hard, her hand going to the back of his neck and gripping, holding him close. And that was beyond arousing, Shirley taking what she wanted a special kind of turn-on, Knox feeling it slip through him. He wondered if he could get her off like this, shifting between her legs to get his thigh up against her, kissing her deeper.

Shirley mewled and rubbed against him, biting his lip, bright sparks exploding in his vision—

The clang of the door made Knox startle and look over—

To where Walk stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and glaring. "Not in my shop," she snapped. But there was no hint of surprise in her. Dimly, Knox wondered what she knew.

But then Shirley shoved him, hard enough to back him up a couple steps, though it couldn't distract from how her chest was heaving, her full lips puffy, energy scattered. Satisfaction slid through him; he did that.

"Sorry, Walk," he drawled, completely unrepentant, hearing the roughness of arousal in his own voice. "Got distracted, you know how it is."

"How it is, is not in my shop," Walk said again, moving down the stairs to her usual station.

"No problem," Shirley said, clipped. She wrenched her jacket closer to her body and turned her back to Knox, focusing on the alternator once again.

Knox just smiled at that attempt. "I'll let you ladies get back to work," he said, feeling good about this and not bothering to hide it. So he turned on his heel and left.

He had shit to do.

***

After he stopped by his place, Knox found Maeve in the post-lunch lull, drinking a cup of her shitty coffee as her mess cooks gathered the leftovers to turn into dinner. He nodded her away from them, Maeve following, tensing a little at sight of him. Every time she saw him, she expected to be asked to do something fucked up to make up for her betrayal. He hadn't called that in, nor would he yet, but it was clearly still top of mind.

There was a process of learning to trust again. He didn't know if he'd be around long enough for them to get there, but he hoped.

For now, he had something else in mind.

"How was lunch?" he asked, to ease into it.

"People are still grateful to have food, so they're keeping the bitching to a minimum," she said, shrugging in something like relief.

Knox smiled, wry. "Gotta love lowering the bar."

"You won't see me complaining," she agreed.

He inclined his head, then went light. "I have a request. Can you make me some of those ginger cookies of yours?"

Maeve's eyebrows rose in surprise, not what she expected. "I have the ginger, but honey comes from the Mids and I'm running low. It'll cost you."

He'd expected nothing less, which was why he'd stopped to grab his credits. "How much?"

"20 credits."

Which was extortion. 5 credits would get you two bottles of Danny's best hooch. Knox knew; that was generally how he spent his credits, buying hooch for the crew and hosting get-togethers at his place.

But hell, he couldn't take it with him.

So he just smiled and shoved a hand in his pocket. "Robbing me blind," he teased as he pulled out four of the little metal squares and handed them over.

Maeve hefted them, eyeing the amounts to make sure, then looked back up to him. "I didn't think you had a taste for ginger cookies."

She was right about that. He didn't. "We live in extraordinary times," he drawled, answering without answering. "When do you think you can make them?"

"Gimme three hours," she said, considering. Clearly thinking something, though she didn't share.

Knox just quirked a smile. "See you then."

***

That done, Knox grabbed some work gloves and heavy pliers and went down to the fans at the base of the silo. He skirted his way over to the one he wanted, then just looked at the mangled metal for a moment. George died here, the poor bastard. For a moment, when he and Shirley jumped over the rail, Knox thought he might join him. Hell of a way to go.

Then he shook off the maudlin thoughts and got to work, using the pliers to muscle the metal grating back into its shape. It was a tricky angle because he had to lean over to do it, but it mostly worked all right. And there was something deeply satisfying about using force and angle and skill to actually fix it. Shirley wasn't wrong about accomplishing something. It was the rallying cry of Mechanical; they got shit done.

"What are you doing?" Shirley called from nearby, whipping Knox around.

She stood at the next fan over, hands in the pockets of her red jacket, frowning at him.

He straightened, gesturing to the mostly-fixed metal grating. "It's fucked up to leave it like it was."

Shirley didn't stop frowning, stepping up to join him. "It's cosmetic. The grating still protects the fans."

"Yeah, but if Jules ever came back, no use making her see that. And I had the time."

Shirley stared at him, something in her eyes, like she was trying to figure him out. But that was ridiculous; she knew him better than anyone. Finally, she said, "When."

"What?" he asked, feeling slow.

"When Jules comes back," she said, insistent, like she could will it to be so. And hell, if anyone could, it would be Shirley.

It made something in Knox fond, feeling his lips curve up helplessly. "Yeah, when Jules comes back," he agreed, softer.

Shirley just nodded and turned to go. Knox watched her walk away for a moment—

Before she stepped into the tunnel, she glanced back.

Knox felt the zing all the way to his toes.

***

The grating only took him a couple hours. By the time he was done, it was all neat and tidy, like no bodies had fallen from the rails above, breaking hearts and shattering dreams. Knox felt good about that. He'd done something.

Then he stowed the gloves and pliers and went back to the cafeteria. When Maeve spotted him, she disengaged from the mess cooks and grabbed a tin from a shelf. She handed it over when he joined her. "They turned out pretty good," she said by way of greeting.

Knox just smiled. "I had no doubt."

Maeve shot him a look that said bullshit. "The rumors about my biscuits say otherwise."

"Maeve, I would never shit-talk your cooking," he said, genuine. Then added: "Everyone else has that covered."

She shook her head at him. "I hope Shirl likes them," she said, pointed.

Knox just grinned and didn't take the bait. "Thanks, Maeve."

***

He found Shirley doing a shift in the control room, sitting before the pressure gauges, attentive but not on high alert. Everyone else was out doing their rounds, which meant they could be alone. Perfect.

When he walked in, Shirley turned to look, then nodded in greeting and turned back around. Distancing again, even after she'd melted into his arms twice today. Classic fucking Shirley.

It was probably a sign how gone he was that he found it adorable.

Knox walked over and set the tin down before her, precise. Then he pulled back and leaned against the control panel, awaiting her judgment.

She didn't disappoint. "What's this?" she asked, voice hard. She looked from the tin to him, suspicious.

"I bet there's a way you could find out."

Shirley studied him for one more moment, then unhooked the tin's latch. Her eyes widened at sight of the cookies. She brought the tin up to sniff them—

Then she snapped the lid back on and glared at him. "Fuck you."

"Yeah," he drawled, slow and silky. "Fuck me."

Her eyes widened slightly, before her look went poisonous. "Not an invitation, asshole."

"Dunno what you mean. I was just agreeing with you," he said easily. Then he tapped the metal tin. "Enjoy." And he walked off.

Feeling Shirley's eyes on him the whole way.

***

Knox didn't expect the knock at his door that night. When it came, he said, "Huh," to the empty room and went to open it.

Shirley didn't even let him speak, just pushed her way inside, saying, "Fine, you win."

He closed the door behind her. "Were we competing or something?"

But she was already stepping close, into his arms, making an annoyed noise as she leaned up to kiss him. She flicked her tongue in his mouth—

Oh.

Knox could taste ginger on her tongue. He made some sound and kissed her deeper, chasing the taste of it, pulling her against him more firmly, one hand cupping her face. This was her sharing the cookies, he realized. He could take or leave them on their own, but tasted off her tongue, they were delicious, sending a rush of heat clear through him.

After a long, mind-stealing kiss, she pulled back and looked up at him, resting against his body easily, like they did it all the time. "Thanks for the cookies."

He swallowed, trying to focus with the heat of her body bleeding into him, his hand still on her lower back, holding her close. "You're welcome."

Shirley smiled a little, like she could see his distraction. "How much did that set you back?"

Knox shrugged. "20."

She stiffened. "20 credits? That's extortion."

"Best money I ever spent," he said, completely serious.

Shirley stared at him a beat...and then kissed him again, fiercer this time—short, sharp kisses that sparked heat, that made him want. "Okay," she said between kisses.

"Okay?" he parroted, confused.

She pulled back, eyes dark. "You can make me feel good."

It went off like lighting gunpowder in his head, Knox realizing Shirley was giving him a shot.

And he was no idiot.

He took her mouth, just as fierce, then leaned down and picked her up. She always loomed in his thoughts, but she was actually small and light, wrapping her legs around his hips easily as he kissed her and carried her to his bed, the sheer impossibility of that idea fighting with the fact that he was living it.

Knox set her on the bed, pulling back a little, and Shirley didn't even give him a second, she was already pushing his black shirt up and off, breaking the kiss to do it. He pushed her red jacket off, Shirley moving to help, tossing that aside and tugging at her own black tank without prompting. A dedication he admired, he thought, as he leaned in to kiss her again, slow and thorough, his fingers tripping over her black stretchy bra, down her sides, her skin hot under his touch.

Shirley got a hand around the back of his neck and yanked, pulling him with her as she fell back to the bed. Knox reached out a hand to catch himself so he didn't crush her, pulling back from the kiss with a laugh. "And just this morning you were avoiding me," he mused, sitting up so that he could reach down and tug at her boots.

She watched him, sprawled back on his bed—a hell of a thing, that—and smiled slightly. "You were trying to make me talk."

"My first mistake," he agreed, her boots making a satisfying thunk on his floor. Then Knox stripped off her socks, too.

She arched her foot, playful. "Oh, someone's being thorough."

Knox smiled and ran a teasing finger over the bottom of her foot, making her laugh with the tickle. "I said I'd make you feel good."

"Not that, not that," she said, laughing and tugging on his arm to bring him back to her.

He just smiled and went, happy at this lightness in her. He hadn't seen it since before Jules went out. She pulled him down into a kiss, raking her fingers through his beard. Knox let himself fall into it, chasing the ginger on her tongue again, liking the feel of her heat underneath him. She was strong, but soft, her legs still casually slung around him, all openness here. Something about it made his heart squeeze.

Knox propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her, marveling a little. "You are something else, you know?"

"Don't go getting soft on me," she muttered.

He shifted his hips, letting her feel his half-hard cock, a streak of fire racing through him as he pressed himself against her. "Not the word I'd use."

Shirley grunted and rubbed up against him, eyes glittering. "That's more like it." She got her hands between them, working at her pants, intent.

Knox brushed them aside, stealing inside her open pants to press a hand between her legs, carding his fingers through the hair there, then making an amused noise at finding her soaked.

Shirley gasped and moved into his hand. "Teasing me all day, you absolute asshole," she muttered.

"I think it worked out for me," he shot back, exploring her slick folds.

"It better work out for me," she said intently, moving in tight little circles against his hand.

Knox laughed and leaned down to kiss her as he worked her. He brushed light fingers over her clit, then around and around, getting a high noise every time he fluttered so lightly over top. He pulled back to watch her face, eyes glazed, mouth puffy, a light sheen over her brown skin. Gorgeous. "Are you gonna tell me?" he asked, still touching her.

It pulled Shirley out of the bliss, little frown lines appearing in her forehead. "What?" she asked, breathless.

He slid his middle finger over her clit, slightly firmer, and her whole body shuddered. Then he backed off. "Why you kissed me," he prompted.

Shirley looked at him askance. "Are you trying to make me talk now?" she asked, voice thick with disbelief.

"Seems a good time," he said, fingers teasing around her again.

Her breath caught, hands digging into his arms, face slack with pleasure. "Or you could—you could get inside me," she muttered, coming back to herself a little.

His cock pulsed at that idea, snug and neglected against her thigh. But that was a distraction. "Nah, I'm good," he said, trailing his fingers from her clit down to her entrance, pressing a little there. "C'mon, Shirl, tell me," he said, husky, leaning down to kiss her.

She bore down on his fingers with a delicious sort of sound, Knox letting them sink into her a bare inch or so. She was all slippery, tight and hot; he tried not to think of what it would feel like to fuck her. "After chasing down the raiders, I was feeling good," she panted out, trying to shove herself onto him even further. "You made me feel good. I wanted more." And clearly wanted the same now, with the way she was shifting against him.

"Now was that so hard?" he drawled, pulling his fingers out of her.

Shirley made a noise of absolute outrage—

Knox just laughed and took her mouth, moving his fingers back to her clit, purposeful this time, not playing. He worked her deliberately, the way he'd figured out she liked, Shirley shaking against him as he suddenly gave her what she wanted. She made noise into his mouth, her whole body vibrating as she got close, and Knox pulled back to watch her face as he firmed his touch—

Her expression shattered as she came, face gone slack, eyes sightless, utterly radiant with pleasure. Knox kept working her through it, her hips bucking against his hand, though he just rode the movement, pushing her higher and higher until she made a broken sort of noise, too much.

He lightened his touch, leaning down to kiss her again, Shirley's mouth immobile for a moment, still lost to pleasure. Then she snapped to, hand going to his hair and gripping tight as she claimed his mouth, wild and fierce. When she pulled back, she was panting, eyes completely black, satisfied.

Knox's cock pulsed at the sight. He made her look like that.

He carefully pulled his hand from her pants, then reached up to suck his fingers, licking her taste from them, arousal pulsing through him.

Shirley lunged for his mouth, following her taste, then biting at his mouth. "Get your fucking clothes off," she ground out, rubbing her body against him, fire rushing through him as his neglected cock suddenly got some attention. Fuck, he was hard.

Knox shoved himself off the bed and worked at his own pants even as Shirley did the same on the bed, shimmying out of her pants and underwear, losing her black bra for good measure. By the time he crawled back to her, they were both naked, groaning as they slotted together, so much more skin now. She was all elegant lines and smooth brown skin, smaller out of her clothes, almost delicate. Knox was consumed with the simultaneous desire to fuck her and keep her perfectly safe, an instinct he had no idea what to do with given everything.

He kissed her again, then trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, her chest, finding a hard little nipple and sucking it in. Her moan was almost as good as the way she rubbed her hip against his cock, wanton and shameless, white heat overtaking his vision.

She scratched blunt nails through his short hair, the zing of that adding to everything else. Knox mouthed over to her other breast, liking the weight of it, the way she shivered against him. She didn't get distracted, though, a hand finding his cock and fisting him loosely.

Shirley stroking his cock like she was on a mission made him cry out as pleasure slammed into him, Knox panting against her breast, still slick from his attentions. "Shirl," he warned—

But she was already shifting, lining him up between her legs—fuck—and slinging a leg around his hips, urging him on. "Come on," she said, short.

Knox didn't even consider belaboring it, just sank into her in one long thrust, the feel of heat and wet and tight whiting out his brain. "Fuck," he called out just as she gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders. One hit his injury, but he barely even felt it, his whole body overcome by the feeling of sinking inside her, perfect bliss going straight to his head.

Somehow he found her mouth, the kiss off center, more like mouthing at each other as Shirley's leg tightened around him. "Move," she mumbled against his chin—

Knox needed no more urging, withdrawing from her a little to sink back in, both of them gasping into each other's mouths again. Then he did it again, setting up a rhythm, short, sharp thrusts that shook the bed. She got a hand down to his hip, kind of urging him toward the left. "Over," she said, gasping a little when he followed her guidance. He adjusted the angle of his thrusts to hit that spot every time and Shirley cried out, fucking back against him, hands digging into his skin.

So he fucked her just like that, forceful, sweat slicking everything as the scent of sex rose in the air, heady. He rested his forehead against hers, the two of them panting against each other as they moved, Knox feeling the tingling starting at the base of his spine, in his balls, his orgasm getting close. He braced himself and reached a hand between them to touch her and Shirley bit his lip, shaking against him. It only took a few more careful touches and she came again, her body clamping down on his cock as she cried out.

It was enough to send him over the edge, Knox growling as he shook and came in long pulses, the ecstasy of it bowling him over. He kept his fingers moving as best he could, Shirley choking on something like a sob beneath him, a sound that buried itself at the base of his spine, curling in pleasure.

Then it passed and he found himself trembling against her, still braced so as not to crush her. "Shit," he muttered, feeling himself come down from the high, his entire body still tingling. He leaned in and nuzzled against her jaw, running his free hand along her thigh, prompting.

She sighed and loosened her hold, pulling her leg away so he could slip out of her and settle to her side. He stayed there, like a lump, feeling the buzz of great sex echoing through him, just floating in the contentment of it.

Her sharp breath in roused him, Knox looking over to find her staring down at herself. Oh, right. He flung a hand out and grabbed the first thing he came to—his black shirt, that worked—then ran it between her thighs, cleaning her up. That done, he tossed it to the floor; he'd deal with it later.

When he focused, Shirley was watching him, seeming almost bemused. She curled on her side toward him, still gloriously naked and not moving to leave, which he'd half expected her to. Knox took that as an invitation to slide closer, tangling their legs together and slinging a hand over her hip. He traced her form, admiring the curve of her hip, her waist, always hidden beneath the roomy clothes they wore. "You're fucking exquisite, you know that?" he said, his voice sounding low and rough to his ears.

She shot him a dry look. "And you're sappy after sex."

"It's true before sex, too, you just wouldn't hear it."

She just scoffed, resting her cheek against a pillow, seeming uninterested in arguing the point. Huh. Maybe orgasms chilled her out. That could be useful, actually.

Knox lifted a hand and traced a finger over her cheek, her jaw, down to her delicate chin, admiring the play of the lights over her dark skin. She fucking glowed. "We could've been doing this for days, you know. You didn't have to avoid it."

Something flashed across her expression, like a shadow of the worry he'd seen on her face ever since the rebellion really got started. "What?" he asked, feeling like this was important. Maybe here, open and bare like this, she'd finally talk to him.

"I thought it would make it worse," she admitted, like it was a hard thing.

"What would?" he asked, soft, dropping his hand between them.

"This." She looked down, frowning, like she was frustrated with something. "I didn't think, when I kissed you."

"And for once, I'm grateful."

Shirley shot him a not funny sort of look. But then she went more serious. "After, when the reality of the blockade set in, you know, being on our own, it all just felt like too much."

And she thought their connection would make it worse. Because it mattered, he realized, that tight feeling taking over his chest again.

"I didn't mean to make things complicated," he said, trying to reassure her. "I just wanted to know where we stood."

"Yeah," she said, like she got that. But there was some kind of hesitation behind it, something she wasn't saying.

"What?" he asked, gently prompting.

Shirley swallowed, like it took effort. "I just—I can see that you've accepted it. Not making it through. And I need you to not do that."

It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus; suddenly Knox couldn't breathe. He had no idea she'd been paying that close attention. Hell, she'd seemed like she wasn't paying attention to him at all. That she'd seen through him to the heart of things...it warmed him dangerously, even as sorrow followed.

"Shirl...I'm the head of Mechanical. You know how it went last time."

"It's not fucking fate," she insisted, going hot. "We don't know how this shakes out. We could win."

"I know," he agreed, soft. "But there's a chance—"

"Fuck chance," she snapped. "I can't be the only one fighting."

In that, he could see the echo of the panic he'd seen peek through. The snapping at people, the endless worry—about who was on their side, going it alone, making backup plans. Finally, some kind of understanding settled in his chest: she was worried for him. Not just everyone, but him specifically.

He reached out, cupping her shoulder lightly. "Hey," he said, soothing. "Shirl, you're not. I promise, you're not. I just show it a different way, that's all."

"You're acting like you're already gone," she said, something wavering in it. "You're so calm, showing people you appreciate them, making arrangements. I see it."

"Yeah," he said because he had been doing that, no use denying it. "But it's not because I've given up. It's just logical is all."

"After Jules and Coop...I need you to fight to live," she said, a heartbroken note to it. "For me," she added, the smallest thing, like it hurt her to say.

Knox bridged the little bit of distance between them, kissing her soundly, his heart aching. He'd wanted to know where they stood. That pretty well covered it.

He pulled out of the kiss and cupped her face, staying close. "Anything for you," he promised, voice gruff. "You're in my heart, Shirl. Always have been, always will be, no matter what. I want nothing more than to keep annoying you until you can't stand the sight of me."

She huffed a kind of half-laugh, something broken in it. "That's every day."

"Well, then I'm doing a good job," he shot back. He stroked his thumb over her cheek. "I don't want to die," he insisted, realizing in this moment how true it was. All he wanted was to stay here with her, like this, close and content, forever. "And I'm not gonna give up and welcome it."

Shirley stared at him, brown eyes serious. After a long moment, she nodded. "I'm holding you to it, asshole."

"You do that," he agreed, leaning his forehead to hers, arm going around to hold her tight. He couldn't know the future, but he could know this. And this moment, right here, was perfect. He was gonna hold onto it for as long as he could.

And he'd be grateful.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.