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It actually started with dancing, probably.
Usually when Two is listening to whatever pop trash she’s picked up in their last contact with civilization, she locks her cabin door. She takes her comm out and blocks the security camera with a piece of tape. There’s a glitch where her crew can’t access the histories of one another’s personal device use, and she doesn’t intend to fix it. She gives herself an hour or so to dive into joyful synths and drum kicks, to swing her hair in front of her face and throw herself around the room and belt out lyrics that her tongue knows a little better than her brain. It seems like this musical taste pre-dates Portia Lynn, some part of the sick little girl named Rebeca that was as important to her creator as her heart-shaped face and short stature. But she’s only broken one piece of furniture so far, and she’s technically the youngest member of the crew, and she doesn’t get nearly as much downtime as those other assholes.
So Two lets herself enjoy this little piece of artificially constructed teen girl.
And she almost shrieks like a real teen when her cabin door swings open.
By the time she turns around, Nyx is leaning against the doorway, laughing a little harder than is strictly appropriate. Two glares and switches the music off.
“Would you shut up and close the door?”
She cuts off a chuckle with a little cough. “Sorry.”
“What do you want?” Two considers breaking the awkward stand-off by pretending she has something urgent to do, but the situation Nyx walked in on would make that kind of pretense ridiculously false.
Nyx shrugs, still leaning on the doorframe. “I was bored and everyone else is busy doing things I don’t want to do right now.”
Two tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m sorry to be so dull. You should go play chess with the Android or something.” And not breathe a word of this to another soul.
“I don’t think it’s dull at all. You’re always surprising me. It’s nice,” she adds softly.
Two shakes her head. “That doesn’t make sense. I thought that you could--anticipate future events?”
(She doesn’t want to say predict the future. It seems tacky.)
Nyx gestures to the chair that’s supposed to pair with the cabin computer interface. It’s shoved against a wall at the moment to allow for more dancing space (and to avoid another broken chair). Two nods permission. Knowing the extent of Nyx’s powers is important for the Raza’s sake, even if it’s being revealed in a way that’s personally embarrassing to her.
“The Seers have known you’re not a standard-issue human being for a little while now, which makes it harder to anticipate your decisions and behaviors. You used to take more risks than average because of the nanomites, but Milo says that’s changed. Crew attachment, amnesia. You already know that.” She waves a hand as if clearing away her association with a group that would call itself the Seers in the first place.
“But they knew exactly how I would react to Three and Four getting grounded,” Two protests.
Nyx looks her dead in the eyes. “Your love for your crewmates is pretty obvious, even to people who don’t have any foresight at all.”
Two frowns. “Then this isn’t useful at all for us. They’ll still anticipate my actions at every turn.”
“When your crew is separated, yes. But when you’re together with them, you’re a loose cannon.” Nyx’s grin is feral, and Two returns one that is probably equally frightening.
“I must scare them a lot, then.”
“That’s why I like you so much.” Nyx stands, abruptly, and leans over Two, pressing a quick kiss against her lips. “Part of it, anyway.”
The trouble with Nyx is that she knows when Two will be immobilized with surprise. And by the time Two has decided to be angry with her, she’s already gone.
....
They’re on dish duty together a few days later, because One wanted the Android to stop doing all the work around the ship and they can’t exactly go back on his wishes now. Nyx is slotting one of the food trays into place in the suction dryer, and Two taps her on the shoulder like she’s handing her another. The moment she turns, Two grasps the taller woman by the arms and pins her to the bulkhead opposite the sink.
Taking advantage of someone else’s turn-ons probably wasn’t a Rebeca thing, but Two likes it a lot. Portia probably did too. She tries not to think about that too much.
Nyx has three inches on her but Two goes for eye contact anyway. It’s a shortcut that will be useful whichever way this is going.
“What did you think you were doing when you kissed me?”
Nyx shrugs, considering the question for a moment.
“I guess I was just letting you know what your options were.”
Two doesn’t slacken her grip, tilting her head a little mockingly. “So, what, you want to fuck me?” She knows at least half her crew feels the same way. If they didn’t also hate each other, she’d just solve the problem with regularly scheduled orgies.
Nyx lifts a hand so very carefully, traces one finger along her hairline. Two is motionless under the pressure, but her hands still press Nyx’s biceps into the cold metal behind them.
“I’d also like to get to know you better,” she says, as if it’s that simple.
“So you can predict me?” Two can feel the anger slipping into her voice but she doesn’t know how to stop it.
The hand resting on her face curls, but if she’s upset Nyx, so be it. She has to know that Two can see her. The other woman’s reply is exquisitely careful.
“So you can surprise me more often.”
Two lets out the breath she’s been holding. And then, because turnabout is fair play, she kisses Nyx deep and hard and walks away.
.....
“The last time someone tried this kind of shit with me, I airlocked him,” says Two, several firefights and a narrowly avoided galactic war later. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, wishing she could just let a good thing happen. She feels a little twinge from the ill-fitting athletic wear she’s using as breast support. Her good bra is back in GA storage, and there aren’t many outposts that carry her size out here anyway.
“That’s kind of hot,” Nyx replies as she shrugs out of her undershirt, and, holy shit.
“Where did you get lace that nice?”
Nyx laughs, and it’s a sound that still seems so fresh to Two, something set aside just for her.
“Part of the Deluxe Prison Perks Package. That request confused the boys a hell of a lot, since I wasn’t getting with any of them.” Her voice is a little funny, and Two looks up from unbuckling her sidearm, concerned. “You OK?”
Nyx nods and fiddles with a bootlace, failing to conceal her blush. “Next time could we, uh. Could you leave the gun on?”
“Oh, yeah,” Two grins, and shucks her pants in one fluid motion, diving for her crewmate. Nyx, like a fool, still has her pants around her ankles as she tugs at her right boot. It flies free with a pop as Two sticks her tackle. By the time Nyx has freed her feet from the fabric, Two is too kiss-giddy to mind when leverage from a sneaky ass-grab lets her girlfriend reverse their position. She settles in to enjoy the sucks and bites Nyx is laying down the side of her neck, sweet little points of flame that are going to heal way too fast for her liking.
Nyx seems pretty distracted so Two goes for her bra (front-clasp-- does her girlfriend want to lose, or is she trying the distraction strategy, and more to the point, where do they sell this model?!?)-- and Nyx sweeps her hands away, almost a slap, lifting her head to gasp, “Now that was predictable, honey.”
Two knees her in the crotch.