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Nadine is used to being awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. It comes with residing in a modest but spacious flat in one of the more bustling parts of town. But the novelty of living in a century-old building comes at the price of drafty windows, freezing cold floors, and the sounds of prevalent night life from the bars, cafés, and other tourist venues wafting up from below. This commotion regularly prevails well into the midnight hour, and as adaptive as the former military leader is, it apparently bothers her much less than the restless body lying next to her.
Chloe is also accustomed to sleeping in a variety of locations and under less-than-optimal conditions. Their lives of adventure and discovery are rarely comfortable, but unbeknownst to her partner before they started working together, the thief is an extremely fidgety sleeper, and an even more agitated bunk mate when forced to share the covers. With the frequent disruptions of cold and cacophony outside, both seeping in all throughout the open floorplan, Nadine wishes she had invested in a space heater or two. Both for the additional ambient noise and the much-needed bit of warmth to ease her goose-pimpled skin and frigid extremities.
As she begins to drift off for the umpteenth time, she detects more movement next to her, and then a pair of icicles dusted with chipping nail polish brush against her bare foot. Nadine elicits an audible “eeep” from her throat and subsequently into her pillow, which she hopes successfully muffles the sound (lest her companion never let her live it down). Thankfully, Chloe remains asleep, as her incoherent mumbling indicates. But the initial contact with Nadine’s slightly warmer skin ignites the thief’s baser instincts like a heat-seeking missile, and the rest of Chloe Frazer promptly follows the motion to embrace the rest of Nadine Ross from behind.
Nadine shudders as the entire icicle makes contact this time, winding one of its squiggly appendages loosely around her shoulder, while the other burrows unapologetically beneath Nadine’s neck and cradles her head between the pillows. Again the incoherent mumbling ghosts against her ears, much closer this time, the warmth of the breath against the back of Nadine’s neck a stark contrast to the subzero temperature of the figure to which it belongs. Nadine thinks she can decipher a “hrrmmph” and a “hell” and a “bloody cold” from among her partner’s otherwise nonsensical exclamations, indicating that Chloe may be presenting the first few symptoms of wakefulness.
Her suspicions are confirmed a few moments later when the more experienced treasure hunter applies pressure to Nadine’s shoulder, drawing the woman’s back closer against her chest, and her nose further into the pillow behind her head, to sustain more of that life-giving warmth. The intimacy of the gesture is not lost on Nadine, and while she doesn’t immediately pull away or retreat into the more familiar realm of stoicism in response to her partner’s unconscious appeals for affection, neither has she completely resigned herself to being the Australian woman’s heating pad, asleep or not.
The great Boss Ross, reduced to a mere thermal accessory for one renowned thief and treasure hunter. Nadine amuses herself with the mental imagery, at the very least. It’s not like this sort of thing is out of character for Chloe in the slightest.
Drifting on the waves of the maiden voyage of their partnership, it doesn’t take Nadine long to realize that Chloe is explicitly more handsy than most. Nadine, ever the analyst, calculates, hesitates, and contemplates before responding to a scenario with casual physical contact (unless she’s hauling Chloe up the side of a cliff face, punching out one of their adversaries, or launching the treasure hunter out of the path of incoming enemy fire). Initially, Nadine doesn’t always acknowledge the sympathetic squeezing of a shoulder or the awkwardness of an enthusiastic side hug after a successful mission. These gestures are a matter of course to Chloe; she makes contact to emote and celebrate their mutual accomplishments; Nadine, out of necessity, usually as a means to an end. Such gestures would normally be simple to disregard or shrug off as a consequence of being in the thrill of the moment. However, their frequency and intensity increase the longer the two of them share in the fruits of their labor. Nadine begins to wonder when exactly she began to recognize the shift in the dynamic of their relationship.
And what is their relationship, exactly? That’s difficult for her to define. It’s impossible not to notice when the soft but firm hand finds purchase at the small of Nadine’s back as she follows the map down the wrong path, and when the fingers clasped with hers during a celebratory high five take longer and longer to disengage. Fifteen seconds is their personal record. Nadine used to bite her nails, subconsciously mind you, she barely remembers doing it, but now Chloe jokes that she needs a manicure. Chloe is astute, and she teases and pokes fun at her flustered companion at every conceivable opportunity. Nadine, by comparison, is also no slouch, and she does notice as the wall of stoicism that she’s constructed for years as a means of surviving in her father’s industry slowly, surely starts to crumble.
Piece by indiscriminate piece, with each new encounter, Nadine finds it more difficult to deny this woman anything. Whether it be an equal cut of the spoils (despite her own penchant for doing most of the heavy lifting), an uneasy but sincere laugh at the thief’s obvious attempts at flirtation, or a place in her home, and even in her bed, none of these are out of the question when it comes to Chloe. Even as she apathetically tries to deny the underpinning that being drawn further into the arms of this particular woman insinuates, one thing is certain: There is, and has never been, anyone else like Chloe Frazer in her life. And perhaps the perfect backdrop to the impromptu blast of cold skin to her form is the realization that, for the first time in her life, this basal shift in her priorities scares her shitless.
The unassuming pressure of the body pressed against Nadine, and the phantom puffs of heat ghosting the back of her neck, remind her that there is much more to her life now than a name and a legacy. A year ago, she was mourning the loss of her fortune and her father’s dynasty, and would have scoffed at even the idea that anyone other than Nadine Ross would come first ever again. But then a certain “collector of antiquities” showed up out of nowhere and injected herself into her life at what was probably her lowest point. But honestly, that shit-eating grin, infectious personality, and promise of a small fortune (and a second chance at restoring her reputation) would have been impossible for anyone in her humbled position to turn down.
She determines that Chloe is good at that — inserting herself into situations and circumstances that, in hindsight, may not always reflect the most intelligent of brash decisions. But if not for her tendency to react first and ask questions later, Nadine may never have found herself in her current position, feeling more fulfilled and unencumbered than she has in years, lying in extremely close proximity to the only person she’s ever opened up to in her entire life (and consequently the only person she’s ever trusted with her life without the strings of professional courtesy attached).
Her traditional father most likely won’t approve at first, and the differences between them may have initially given her pause. However, one look from Chloe, one lighthearted smack to her knee, or one use of her affectionately coined nickname sing-songing into her ears, is all it takes to remind Nadine that, for the most part, her destiny is in her hands again. Whatever she may have lost in the past, whatever monetary and social value she could place on being the leader of a feared mercenary company, cannot compare to what she has gained, and will continue to gain, in the future. Again, Chloe Frazer scares the living bejeezus out of her, but in a much more invigorating capacity than individuals like Rafe Adler or Asav ever did.
As if on cue, Chloe stirs once more, and the fluttering of her nickname in her ear draws Nadine out of her reverie and into the full attention of the woman lying beside her.
“Mmm…china, ’m freezing. Why're you crying?”
Nadine doesn’t realize that she is until a trace of moisture makes itself known on her cheek. She can feel the puffiness in her face, eyes, and nose emerging, so of course even a half-awake Chloe catches on. She is quick to brush aside the salty dampness as if everything is fine, but her secret is already out, and just like everything else where Chloe is concerned, she doesn’t have to kid herself that trying to hide it will work for very long.
“Don’t worry, Fra—Chloe. I’m fine.”
The treasure hunter is not at all convinced. As far as emotional extremes are concerned, she’s not seen her partner express much beyond amusement, a bit of sappiness, and outright rage before. Most of the time, she is straightforward and very matter-of-fact. It comes with the whole military package, she expects. The crying thing is entirely new, though. They’ve already established that Chloe’s not very good at the whole people thing, so she doesn’t want to press on the issue like an insensitive dickhead.
“…You’d tell me if you weren’t?”
The phrase is less an affirmation and more of a plea. She implores the former mercenary with just a modicum of inflection, to hint at open doors, and hopes that it gets the message across. Her concern doesn’t escape Nadine, however, whose conflicting impulses to pull herself away or push herself further into their embrace stall her from actually making any movement at all.
Because Nadine’s not very good at the whole people thing, either, and this is more or less exactly the problem.
“Why are you here, Chloe?”
As she brushes away the last semblances of sleep from her eyes, Chloe smiles tenderly at the familiar sound of her name from lips still getting used to uttering it.
“Why am I wrapped around an absolutely gorgeous specimen of a woman when it’s bloody freezing outside? I would think that would be obvious, Nadine.”
Nadine fights back an embarrassing snort from her still-inflamed nostrils. Good lord, but her partner is insufferable as hell.
“No, I mean, why are you here? With me, of all people?”
The real meaning to her words still hasn’t landed with Chloe, and she still can’t hide the tinge of emotion carried by her voice. Her partner rests in silence as she tries to process what she interprets to be the asininity of the question proposed. Nadine senses her apprehension and supposes she will have to lay it out plainly, or as plainly as she can.
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question, love.”
Now she’s just messing with me, Nadine thinks.
Chloe abruptly pulls her hands away as Nadine reverses her position, turning onto her other side so they are lying face to face, and Chloe can see the confirmation of her earlier inquiry smeared across her partner’s features. Nadine’s eyes are far more puffy and pink than she’s ever seen them, and Nadine hasn’t been able to prevent additional moisture from gathering at the corners and running down her cheeks in cascades.
Nadine avoids eye contact but signals her attempt to speak several times before she’s successful.
“I…I have nothing—I don’t know what the hell I’m doing—”
The last few syllables taper off into a sob as Nadine’s attempt at composure falls flat in front of her.
“Whoa, darling, hey.” Chloe’s hands tenderly find closure on the other woman’s cheeks as they try to divert attention up to her gaze. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”
Nadine doesn’t initially respond, because she’s not entirely certain of the answer herself. In her own flawed way, she knows she’s being irrational, but the realization does nothing to calm her swelling anxiety. Anxiety, she recognizes, that has everything to do with falling head over heels for the woman in front of her, yet being unable to admit as much to either of them. Not being able to tell her is the worst torture imaginable, one million times more painful than drowning in the ruins of an ancient city, or being fired upon by a rebel army on a train destined for derailment.
Yet she tries, she has tried, several times in the preceding months, to say exactly what’s in her heart, only to end up more or less where she is now.
And in a rare moment for her, Chloe is also at a loss for words. Witnessing the storm raging behind her partner’s desperate eyes robs her of any rational thing to say, or any appropriate gesture to make it better. Instead, she watches Nadine struggle, and hopes that their mutual closeness is enough of a gesture to help Nadine weather whatever emotional squall has her in its toils.
Nadine tries once again, and the attempt is both audibly and visually obvious as both her words and her shoulders quake with the effort.
“Chloe…I—I want to say so much, but I—don’t know how. You are the most—”
Nadine’s breath vacates her lungs prematurely as the other woman’s lips suddenly intrude upon her own. Catching her by surprise, but not too forceful or overpowering to make her pull away, it takes a moment for the former mercenary to process. But when she does, she doesn’t hesitate for long, and slowly acquiesces to the invitation, opening herself to draw Chloe in further and digesting the guttural moans and whimpers shared between them like some kind of cliché mythical ambrosia.
Nadine doesn't remember the last time she gripped someone so tightly, so desperately, hands unafraid to voice the confessions she couldn't earlier as she clutches at the back of the other woman's head and bicep, fusing the two of them together into an embrace only slightly less solid than the near-broiling connection forged at their mouths.
Eventually Chloe pulls away with a whimper and gasps for a momentary intake of oxygen. Their gazes meet again with the sheer anticipation of another round, but Nadine is unsure if she can reciprocate the airy pants and throaty sighs conjured by her partner at the places where they connect. Chloe’s mouth and nostrils noticeably flare as she takes another compulsory breath before diving back in, but Nadine’s is still captured at the back of her throat, held captive by a whisper of adoration threatening to break free at the second introduction of an exploring tongue past eager lips and teeth.
“Chloe—”
“I love you so much, Nadine,” Chloe exclaims brazenly, eliciting a gasp from her previously voiceless partner at the sound. “You don’t even know how much.”
Leave it to Chloe to be the frank one between us, Nadine manages to think before drawing her partner in again and crashing their forms together in multitudes.
Later, Nadine will apologize profusely for her consternation, and Chloe will shake it off as she does basically everything else.
“Nobody’s perfect, love,” she will reinforce with a reassuring stroke up Nadine’s spine and a comforting massage to her shoulders. “But you’re still pretty damn close, regardless.”