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"Where's the vice president?"
"Apologies, commander," Xi said, inclining his head. "He wasn't expecting you for another three hours. Would you like me to brief him before you meet?"
"No," Kuvira said, pausing at the door to her personal quarters on the mag-train. "Let him know I'm early, I'll brief him myself. Where is he?"
"Either in the lab or the gym," her army general replied. "I'll have him informed right away."
"Thank you, Xi." She let herself in after his dismissal, sinking down onto the chaise lounge and pausing for a minute before wriggling out of her more formal dress uniform and tugging off her boots. Public appearances had always felt a little draining, but they were an obligation that could not be avoided anymore.
Kuvira set the stack of unfinished paperwork on the coffee table and thumbed through her planner, thoughtfully twirling a pen between her fingers. There were military briefings to read, intelligence reports from her spies in the United Republic to peruse, summaries of progress in the poorer Western provinces, and requests for aid from Omashu, of all places. "This is a new one," she murmured to herself, reading the attached note from the chief of staff. His suggestions still warranted favorable consideration, and she found herself agreeing with his suggestions as she read the briefings. Evidently the support she had dispatched had proved insufficient; another state would be added to the combative side of their military campaign. When Baatar finally returned she had long since settled into her rhythm, tea just within reach and a slew of papers before her, feet tucked beneath her and disheveled hair from running her fingers through it.
"Did you redecorate while I was away?" he teased, pausing in the doorway.
"Very funny," she replied, not bothering to look up. Her quarters were simple but comfortable in its furnishings, with a receiving room adjoining to the bed and bath. A small table stood off to the left of the entrance while her chaise lounge and two matching chairs were at the right; a thick green carpet from the capitol covered the slate floor further inside. It was roomy due to the minimal furniture, but she preferred it that way. Overcrowding meant sacrificing the use of her room as a private dance studio when needed. Baatar had installed a pair of sleek bars along the far wall for her last birthday, one horizontal and one vertical, where the record player sat. The decor was decidedly patriotic, and even the parts kept with the theme of polished metal, dark rosewood, and rich Empire green. The only change was the paperwork on the coffee table, but that was to be expected.
"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," he continued, his footsteps palpable through the carpeting as he paused behind her seat and looked at her work. "How was your day of empress obligation?"
"More of the same," she said, hearing the whisper of fabric over skin as he presumably tugged off his shirt. "More aid requests, more expense reports to sign off on, more proposed legislation to read over from the capitol. I need your input on the extended railway into the republic, by the way... show me the updates to the maglev once I've caught you up on today's business. Good workout?"
"I missed my spotting partner," he answered, a smile in his voice. "And the humidity made it especially miserable, like swimming through air. I was actually on my way to the shower, but Xi said you wanted to see me first."
Kuvira tutted in annoyance as a drop of sweat landed on her notepad. "You can't get a towel?" she said, looking up. "You couldn't take a step ba..."
Baatar wadded up his discarded shirt, blotting at his face and neck. "I'm sorry," he said, voice contrite, dipping his head down to see what she had been working on. "Did the ink blur?"
"No," she said slowly, taking in the sight of him for the first time since his return. Words formed and died in her mouth before she could assemble them into a coherent sentence, her eyes flitting from the waistband of his shorts back up to his face before roving over his torso. "Ah, it did a little bit, but it's all right..."
"Sorry," he said again, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll let you get back to work and check in once you're ready to brief me."
“Mmm. Going to shower?”
He nodded. "That's what I said, yes."
"So soon?" she pressed, her mouth suddenly dry and her hand still outstretched. Her palm turned up as if by its own volition, an offer and a question in one gesture.
Baatar raised his eyebrows. "I'm making your notepad damp just by standing here. I thought you'd want me gone."
"The notepad isn't the only thing," Kuvira muttered, her mouth twisting in a wry smile when she observed his blush in the corners of her eyes and heard a little sputter of pleasant confusion.
"Did you, er, need something?" he said, his voice rising in a hopeful cadence. Even after two years together and an engagement, he was still as easy to excite as he had been at the start of their relationship.
“You say this like it’s a question…”
"I'll be gone no longer than ten minutes,” he assured her, twining their fingers together. "That's a promise, commander."
"I’m not sure I want to wait that long," Kuvira said. "Do you have an alternate proposal?"
"Because you're so open to those," Baatar grinned, rubbing the back of his head. “You don’t want me to shower for you first?”
"Today was shoulders, I see." She ignored his question, her eyes on the bead of sweat running the length of his arm and trailing down to his shoulder. “You went without me?”
“…yes?”
“Did you curl?” she pressed, reaching for his hand from her place on the couch. His skin was hot to her touch, and she felt the edge of her lip reflexively drawn between her teeth.
Baatar swallowed. “Of course, I just said it was shoulder day.”
“How much can you do with one arm?” she murmured, curling her fingers around his and uncrossing her legs, planting her feet on the ground. “130 with both?”
His throat bobbed as he pulled her to her feet, the cables in his arm standing out in the glow from the window and the beads of sweat like pearly testaments to his earlier exertion. “Is that what you weigh? I thought it was less.”
Kuvira narrowly avoided a collision with his chest, bracing a palm on his sternum. “Flattery,” she began, walking her fingers up to a spot behind his neck, “will get you everywhere.”
“Kuvira,” Baatar said, even as his hand instinctively fell to her waist, “shouldn’t you--”
“What?” she said crossly, her hand still stroking the back of his head as she took a step back. “Oh, because of this?” She was still dressed from a day of conferences and public appearances, even if the crisp white blouse was untucked, unbelted, and the blazer draped over a chair. Sweat had migrated from his body to hers, little marks of their recent physical closeness. She could feel the dampness on her skin and smiled inwardly, as it was typical of Baatar to fret more than her over the preservation of her wardrobe. “I thought you like seeing me sweaty,” she said pointedly, her eyes narrowing as she drew near again. His arm tensed at her waist; his voice was coiled with straining anticipation.
“I do, but—“
"--I might be overdressed. You're right, I shouldn’t ruin business clothes,” she said coyly. “Help me out of this,” she added, guiding his hand to the top buttons and starting on the lower ones herself.
“Sure—“
“There,” she said, shrugging the shirt off and hooking her arms around his neck. “Better?”
Baatar threaded his fingers into her hair, tipping her head back and his eyes determinedly fixed on hers rather than her brassiere. “I thought you didn’t want to wait..." he said even as his thumb hooked on the waistband of her trousers. "Why are we dragging this out...?”
She closed the gap between them, tasting the salt on his lips and smiling into the kiss. “Showering together will save valuable, nonrenewable resources. There's a mention of water shortages in the western provinces, it would be wrong to indulge when our nation doesn't have the luxury... but of course you want to freshen up.”
“No, I agree. In fact, you should help me. For the empire, of course.”
Kuvira smiled, letting him tug her towards the bathroom. “I will give the idea the most favorable consideration.”