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Chapter Text

The first time Arlo laid eyes on the freshly minted Builder, he was dubious, to say the least. She was such a tiny young thing and here Presley was giving her perhaps the biggest commission of the season: construction of the bridge to Amber Island. But what could he do other than give the Commissioner of the Commerce Guild himself a curt nod before taking his own leave? He would have to trust the older man’s judgment on this—as audacious as it may be.

It would be a mere week later that the Captain of the Civil Corps would find himself completely and utterly gobsmacked at the sight before him: the petite Builder that he had earlier lambasted, hammering in the final touches  to complete the bridge to Amber Island. She was in the middle of wiping the sweat off her brow when she finally noticed him trotting along on Spacer.

“Captain.” She acknowledged, raising a gloved hand for a brief wave before returning her attention to the structure in front of her.

Perhaps I was wrong to underestimate her, he thought, giving her a polite nod in return as he continued with his afternoon patrol. He dutifully made a mental note to keep her on his radar, lest he want more surprises from the enigmatic girl.

----

Mental notes be damned, as the copper haired soldier yet again found himself staring dumbly at the grime-covered Builder who was doubled over before him. “Citizen!” He bellowed in what he hoped was a firm authoritative voice and not at all unwavering with alarm. “What are you doing in there?!”

The hunched figure held up her hand to indicate that she was still in the process of regaining her breathing. “Well, I was fixing the cave power generator when...” She began, as the tale of her adventure tumbled fervidly from her lips. By the end of her tale, she was finally standing at her full height, breathing now fully under control. Save for her disheveled appearance, one would have never guessed that this diminutive newcomer had gone through such an ordeal with how composed she was now. 

“The cave complex extended all the way to here?” Sam blinked incredulously, “And you defeated them all? Wow.” She whistled, raising her brows at the Captain, a gleam in her eye. Clearly the sole female Civil Corps member was impressed with the woman before them. Arlo suspected that a camaraderie would soon form between the two, given how often Sam had bemoaned at being “The only girl in town who can hold her own in a fight.”

The older Civil Corps member, on the other hand, was a bit more guarded with his awe—though not by much. “So the Bandirats were behind this?” He quietly mused. “I knew it! They’ve been crowding around town for a while now.” He declared rambunctiously with crossed arms, the faintest of smirks upon his lips.

Arlo cleared his throat as a subtle reminder to his other two companions that they were supposed to be admonishing her actions, not commending them. “We were following some leads that brought us here, just about to go inside as well.” He explained, gesturing to both Sam and Remington. “You take a break and go tell our mayor what happened, we’ll head on in and clear out any stragglers.” He finished, earning himself a relieved smile and a quiet “Thanks” in return as the fatigued Builder brushed by him, her arms filled with an array of the town’s missing items.

Imagine the Captain’s further surprise as he and the rest of the Civil Corps discovered that not a single enemy remained in the winding caverns of the Amber Island cave. “I like her!” Sam grinned cheekily, toeing her boot against the lifeless body that was once the Bandirat Prince.

"Me too.” Arlo found himself saying in agreement.

----

Just when the bandana-clad officer thought he finally had the enigmatic Builder all figured out, she still found ways blindside him. “I beg your pardon?” He spluttered, pulling Spacer’s reigns taut, causing the stallion to come to an abrupt halt. “I think I’ve misheard you.” He chuckled nervously, heaving himself off his mount so he could be ground-level with her. Perhaps he misheard what was said because of the clippety-clop of Spacer’s hooves on the plaza’s cobblestone or maybe even their combined height was a factor. 

The petite woman before him furrowed her brows, tilting her head in apparent confusion. How cute, Arlo fleetingly thought, before feeling his face grow hot at the intrusive thought. “I don’t think so?” She countered, shrugging her rucksack off her shoulder before laying it carefully nearby with her various tools. “Sam told me that if I want to gain access to the Collapsed Wasteland I’d have to last a 1-minute match with a Civil Corps officer,” she explained nonchalantly, stepping closer to the flustered man as she squared her shoulders, “And I’m asking you if you’ve got a minute.”

Arlo could feel hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest at her ludicrous proposition but squashed it down with a subtle harrumph. “Yes, well that’s true however—” the mere indication of a deflection earned himself a glare. Reflexively, he showed his palms towards her in a yielding manner, hoping to mollify her. “It’s just that, I’m the leader of the Civil Corps.” He fumbled lamely to her blank stare. “Do you think you can defeat me?” This earned him a short bark of laughter.

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Teased the small woman, readying herself in a fighting stance.

Arlo sighed. They had not even begun fighting, yet he already felt like he had lost. “So be it,” he shrugged before pulling his fingerless gloves taut, mirroring her stance, “You’ve really got guts challenging me!”

What she lacked in height and strength, she made up for in agility and stamina. The Captain of the Civil Corps found himself steadily growing breathless trying to keep up with her flurry of attacks. One second, she was readying a kick to his front, and the next she was flanking him to deliver a calculated punch to the ribs. Despite her small frame, the fresh-faced Builder could really pack a punch. Before he knew it, their minute was up. 

A small, calloused hand appeared in his view, offering to help the winded man up. “Looks like I passed.” She tittered melodiously, as he took her hand with his. Arlo couldn’t help the blush that rose to his already flushed face. “That you did.” He exhaled, ducking his face briefly into the crook of his elbow to wipe the sweat off his brow… and feebly hide his flustered face.

Once the petite girl—no, woman—helped him to his feet, Arlo felt himself grow conscientious of their sudden proximity: they were less than an arm’s length away and she was still holding his hand. With a quick squeeze, she dropped his hand and went over to gather her belongings. “We’ll have to do this again,” She said cooly, contrary to her flustered appearance, as she slung her rucksack over a shoulder. Dark eyes locked with his as her voice dropped an octave lower, “Captain” she near-purred sultrily with a wink, before swiftly pivoting and making her way towards the West Gate.

Arlo suddenly found himself breathless again.

Chapter Text

The first time Arlo had felt the stirrings of desire pool hot in his belly was during the first time he and the petite builder had sparred. The diminutive woman had challenged him to a one-minute match in order to gain access to the Collapsed Wastelands—to which the towering man reluctantly agreed.

It was neither the proximity of the two nor the allure of the builder herself, but rather the instant when her tiny fist connected with his jaw, and he found himself suddenly gawking up at her cheeky grin. 

She really can pack a punch, he thought bewilderedly, rubbing his jaw and wincing at the jolt of pain. Yet, despite his now twinging jaw, it felt as if she had delivered a gut-punch instead—with the way his abdominals clenched and his breathing now heavy.

 ----

At the time, the copper-haired captain had chalked up his reaction to adrenaline. The two of them were physically exerting themselves, so it was only natural that his blood was pumping. Now, however, he wasn’t quite sure what to chalk it up to.

He was out making his morning run with his fellow Civil Corps members—Paulie included—when he crested the hill to the diminutive builder's workshop. She was in the process of transferring a slab of marble to her assembly station when Arlo felt his breath catch in his throat and his footsteps falter.

Although it was barely an hour past sunrise, the summer morning was already thick with humidity—forcing him to shed his uniform jacket, leaving him in a black fitted t-shirt instead. Clearly, she had the same idea, as she was clad in a simple white tank top, her jacket tied loosely around her waist. It wasn’t the ample display of skin that caused him to swallow thickly, per se, but rather the clear view he had of her shifting muscles as she hefted the slab that was easily as heavy as he was.

Arlo felt his stomach drop, and suddenly, it was much hotter than it was minutes ago.

 ----

If anyone asked, Arlo would swear up and down that the reason why he was breathing so heavily was because the rogue AI had knocked the wind out of him—that it had absolutely nothing to do with how inexplicably aroused he was right now.

He was so focused on keeping the injured engineer safe, that it completely caught him off guard when the petite builder dropped in—literally. Wielding the Corps’ Hammer that was at least twice her size, she leapt off the scaffolding from above, and used her momentum to drive the hammer into the head of the AI with a resounding crack.

Arlo felt his breath hitch and the warm sensation begin to stir low in his abdominals, emanating lower and lower until—a metallic arm collided with his side, sending him flying into a wall.

Pain aside, he felt oddly relieved that the remaining Corps members were too preoccupied fighting the rogue AI alongside the builder to pay him any attention. He needed time to get his breathing under control—among other things.

 ----

Among several of the foolish things that the captain of the Civil Corps had done in his life—trying to outdrink Paulie, agreeing on a blind date set up by Sonia, talking to Sam before she’s had her morning coffee—agreeing to another sparring match with the young builder was one of them.

Ever since the Ingall Mine incident, Arlo had been taking extra means to avoid running into her: taking longer routes around the city, changing up his patrol schedule, accept miscellaneous civilian requests—you name it. However, one place he couldn’t avoid her was at the mandatory fireside meeting. Before he could even attempt to slip away as the mayor was wrapping up his speech, she called out to him. He froze, rooted in place, unsure of what to do. As he was briefly debating playing deaf, she approached him.

“Hey.” She said softly, raising a gloved hand in a polite wave.

“Hey.” He responded, returning the gesture.

“I feel like you’re avoiding me.” She stated bluntly, all formalities aside.

This caused him to splutter. She had a way with getting under his skin. “I’ve just been really busy, yeah?” he choked out lamely, rubbing his neck.

She shot him a pointed look but said nothing further on the matter.

A long stretch of silence passed between the two, and just as he was opening his mouth to bid her goodbye, she said perhaps the last thing he expected her to say.

“Want to spar?” She asked nonchalantly, as if there wasn’t any unresolved tension between them.

Arlo blinked at her dumbly, “You mean now?” he asked.

“Why not? The night’s still young,” she shrugged, before bringing a hand up dramatically to cover a coy smile. “Unless, you’re not up for it? I understand that with age, your body requires more rest than before and well—” She trailed off teasingly as her gaze swept over his figure—the insinuation was clear. She was baiting him. And he was falling for it.

The older man huffed. He was 28 for Peach’s sake, not pushing 50! “Oh, I’m up for it.” He countered haughtily. Rationality be damned; his pride was on the line here.

----

They had agreed on relocating to the open field near her workshop due to the late hour. It wouldn’t have been a good look for the captain of the Civil Corps to have a civil disturbance infraction on his record, after all. Arlo would later find himself grateful for their change of location due to the precarious position he now found himself in. 

At one point during the match, he felt slender arms wrap around him from behind. His heart leapt momentarily at the feeling of her small frame pressed against his back. Planting a firm foot between his legs—his breath hitched at this—she wrapped her ankle around his and pulled, sending the taller man crashing to the ground. Arlo groaned deeply, not so much from the pain of clacking his chin against the (thankfully) softened earth, or even the feeling of her pelvis digging firmly into his back, but more so from the strain he felt in his shoulders as the petite Builder tightly pulled his arms behind his back.

“Give up?” She chuckled breathlessly, wrapping her ankles around his thighs to further restrain him when he attempted to buck her off.

The copper-haired man let out a strangled moan in response. Immediately, all pressure relented as the younger woman released her vice grip on him. “Shit, I’m sorry!” She sputtered, scrambling to get off him. “Are you okay?” She asked meekly, panicked concern clear in her voice.

Arlo continued to keep his head down, his rapid heartbeat a deafening sound in his ears. I’m done for, he thought morosely, twisting his frame to look up at her whilst keeping his lower half still pressed to the ground. “Y-yeah,” he managed to breathe out, hoping to Peach that she didn’t notice his current hardship—so to speak.

Her eyes scanned his face for several seconds before dropping her gaze lower to access his person. An unreadable look flashed across her face before she suddenly jumped to her feet.

She knows, he distressingly thought. His mind was in such complete turmoil, running a thousand miles a minute, that he didn’t quite catch what she had said.

“Huh?” the Civil Corps Captain couldn’t help the sound of bewilderment escaping his lips. 

“I said,” the small woman swallowed thickly before locking eyes with him, “Do you want to come inside?” She repeated, her gaze unwavering.

Arlo opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to formulate a response, but stopped once he noticed her afflicted state. Her pupils were blown wide and eyes dark; her chest was heaving unevenly. She was breathing just as heavily as him, almost as if—oh.

“Yes,” he couldn’t utter fast enough.