Work Text:
Cars honking. Electricity buzzing. Fingers flexing.
Anna thought she was going to forget how to breathe. Her chest felt tight in the worst way and her limbs buzzed in an uncomfortable pattern.
It had only been three months, and she was falling hard and fast. There wasn’t a lifeboat to save her, or- or a support pillow at the bottom, or even a plan B.
There wasn’t a way out of this one.
Her attention was stolen by the sound of clinking equipment. She knew who it was—the way he cursed whilst his misstep nearly tripped him up. She almost cracked a smile; she would have if the nerves inside her gut weren’t eating her alive.
It had been their routine at that point: Zaeed reached out to grab at her waist, then pecked her mouth with a kiss. “You called?” He spoke, his tone exasperated. Her gaze flashed over his armor, then she blinked, and it landed on his face. He looked tired, but his eyes softened when he looked at her.
It made Anna’s skin crawl, like she’d been set on fire and suddenly doused in water. It was something she’d had to get used to—someone’s physical affection, someone’s will to *care*.
It wasn’t just herself she had to think about anymore.
The smell of gunpowder, and pine circled around her. She was just tall enough that, if she’d wanted, she could press herself into his chest and tuck her head into his shoulder.
The thought made her gut turn, then reminded her of her latest problematic conversation she was meant to have.
Anna dampened her lips with her tongue, gently hitting the scar that sat across her lip. It stretched from the top of her cheekbone, across the side of her mouth, then down her chin. She’d gotten after an awful brawl with a manic Esmea—a gentle reminder of her sister.
“I have to tell you something,” murmured his partner, her gaze flickering from Zaeed’s face, then down to the lights surrounding Omega.
“Ah.. okay?” he replied; she heard the confusion in his voice.
“Nobody died.” She cringed immediately, before adding, “if that’s.. what you think I’m going to say.”
The feeling of his fingertips drumming against the back of her armor felt like weights; each individual digit added another pound with every press.
If she didn’t suffocate, she’d surely implode.
He was looking at her, *through* her. His stare surged under her skin, through her muscle, all the way down to bone. It made her shiver. Anna rolled her neck back and forth to help ease the tension she felt in her body. It didn’t do a damn thing.
“Just—“ she stammered, “—just turn around. I can’t say it with you looking at me.”
Zaeed opened his mouth to protest, but she bit, “We’re wasting both of our time if you don’t.” His brows raised, and his hand started to drift from her side.
Immediately, her expression turned apologetic. Anna reached for his arm, her hand hovering, then retracting, before her palm landed to hard muscle, acting as though a simple touch was going to poison her entire system. “I’m sorry,” expressed his partner. Her voice was softer, her bite.. lesser.
Her fingertip traced over the swirl in his tattoo, as if that would calm her heart jumping in her throat. “Can you just please turn around?”
Zaeed breathed a sigh, rubbed his thumb against the side of her armor, before crossing his arms and spinning on his heel. She was grateful, and muttered a small thank you.
Her own hands went back to fidgeting. Anna cracked her knuckles, slid her fingers together, or rubbed her palms against one another. Zaeed had gotten into the habit of grabbing onto one of her hands, interlocking their fingers, and gently squeezing their palms together.
The first time he’d done it, she’d yanked her hand away like he’d burned her skin. He’d argued, and she’d argued back, until they’d sat in silence and he’d taken her hand again.
Now she expected it. And not to have it only made her more agitated.
Heaving in a deep breath, Anna started speaking. Her voice wavered; all of her nerves jumped tenfold.