Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Logan?”

One groggy blue eye cracked open, the other smashed face first into the pillow of their inn room. 

“Waz it?” 

“Come see,” she said with a smile, brushing a single lock of hair from his face. Quick as a sand snake he snatched her hand, nipping playfully at her fingertips. 

“Logan,” she laughed, tugging back her hand. Or attempting to. His grip tightened, pulling her onto the bed. Logan rolled, coming down on top of her, caging her body with his. He rested on his forearms above her, the hand on her wrist sliding up to her palm and lacing their fingers together. 

His lips were pressed to hers a second later, warm and wind-chapped and oh so clever. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, he nibbled gently, his hand pressing hers more firmly into the bed. Hana moaned softly, arching up into him, trying to keep as much contact with him as possible. 

Smiling against her lips, Logan dropped his lower body, pinning her down with his hips. Her free hand wove into his hair, twirling silver strands of starlight around her fingers. 

“Could just stay here,” he murmured, pressing more kisses along her jawline.

His lips made an incredibly convincing argument, and Hana was halfway to capitulating when the shifting lights appeared through the window. 

Already the sky was growing brighter, swirls of color just barely visible in the darkened sky. Hana tugged on his hair, wiggling beneath him until he let her up. Rolling out from underneath him, to Logan’s dissatisfied grumble, Hana slid her feet into the boots at the edge of the bed. 

“C’mon, we’ll miss it!”

“Not like it’s goin’ anywhere, Starby.” 

“It is! That’s the whole point. You can’t always see them.” 

The rustle of sheets sounded from behind her, and Hana grinned at her victory. Not that Logan made a habit of denying her, but he could be stubborn when he wanted to… or when he wanted her. 

 A tiny thrill worked its way through her, her lips tingling at the remembered pressure and pleasure that he gave her. Her eyes drifted to him, the gleam of his bare chest in the moonlight, the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he tugged on his pants. Heat crept up her cheeks, and she turned away, but not before he caught her looking. 

She could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have you back in this bed in half a second.”

“That long?” she teased.

“Eh, maybe shorter. Depends on if I start kissin’ ya first.”

“You can kiss me later.”

“Was gonna do more than kiss ya,” he grumbled, shrugging into his coat. 

“You can do that too.” Eyeing him balefully, she pulled him down for another kiss, breaking away before he could deepen it and convince her that the light show wouldn’t be all that interesting. 

Hand in hand they crept quietly out of the inn room, taking the stairs down to the now silent tavern that spanned the entire first floor. Wooden boards creaked under her feet, but not his, reverberating through the large space. Logan chuckled quietly at her sigh, effortlessly dodging the elbow she threw at him.

Once outside, they both glanced up, colored lights swirling overhead in a dazzling display. Logan’s jaw dropped open, his eyes widening at the scene above him.

Hana had seen it before, but just once. A weekend trip with Nia and her family up to the mountains on the border. Cold air and a blanket of stars, and then beautiful lights spanning across the ink black night, just like now. 

“C’mon, inn keeper said there was a hill a little ways north. We should see it better that way.” 

Despite Hana being the one to receive the directions, Logan took the lead, palm resting on the pommel of his dagger as they trekked along a small, cleared path. He kept his strides short to account for her much smaller ones, and it took them about fifteen minutes to reach the top of the hill outside the small town. 

Most of the lights in town were off, the sight familiar to those who lived this far north. They were the only ones out this late, the night quiet save for the rustling of some nocturnal animals that gave the two of them a wide berth. 

The ground was cold and wet with dew, seeping through the seat of her jeans in mere moments. If she’d been alone, Hana would have complained, but Logan’s arms closed around her from behind, snuggling her back against his chest, the heat of him chasing away the shivers that might otherwise dampen the beautiful sight before her.

With his head resting on top of hers the two of them watched ribbons of light twist and turn in the sky, arcs of color dancing to some unseen music. For hours they sat, until their legs went numb and the cold settled deep into their bones.  

“Worth it?” she asked sometime later, the strands of light beginning to soften and fade.  

His hand cupped her cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Those same fingers curled beneath her jaw afterwards, tipping her face up to his for another kiss under the midnight kaleidoscope of colors. “Definitely worth it, Han.”

Chapter Text

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The paper, bearing the twin stamps of Sandrock’s commerce guild and City Hall, fluttered in the mid autumn breeze. That familiar scent of crushed leaves and cook fire wafted over her, and Chloe marked it absently. The same way she marked the hefty commission tag and the requested completion date. What had stopped her in her tracks was the commission itself. Or commissions, rather. 

Chloe flipped the paper over, eyes widening as the requested items continued on the back of the page. 

“Fence posts, wooden barrels, a portable sand fishing pond? What in the—“

She pushed open the front door, eyes still scanning the rest of the letter, and walked straight into a solid wall. A solid, very warm, wall. One who grew arms that wrapped snuggly around her and lifted her right off her feet.

“Hey there, darlin’. Thought you’d be a bit longer.” 

“I thought so too,” she replied, waving the parchment like a flag, “but it seems Catori convinced Trudy and Wei Sandrock absolutely needed another festival.”

Logan caught her hand, reading along while his thumb stroked over her wrist absently. Chloe fought back a shiver, Logan’s lips twisting into a grin. His thumb stroked a little firmer, the exact pressure she enjoyed on other, more intimate areas. Her gaze flicked to the stairs, mind running through her to do list and just how much time she could sacrifice. 

“Later, sweetheart.”

“You started it,” she muttered, tugging her wrist from his grip with a scowl. 

Logan’s chuckle followed her into the kitchen, and to the coffee pot that was already going. 

“Looks like they are bringing the rodeo back.” 

“Huh?” Mug, filled with coffee and enough milk and sugar to turn it creamy beige, paused halfway to her lips. 

“Used to be, when I was real little, Sandrock would host an event like this ‘round this time. No one could beat my pa at can shootin’, though B3 got close a few times. Ain’t seen mud wrestlin’ on there before though.”

Pen was far away, rotting in an Ataran prison, and Chloe got a thrill knowing that his stupid suggestion was being put to use for Sandrock’s benefit. She should have known he was a villian the second he proposed a mud wrestling competition during a water crisis. 

“Yakmel ropin’, barrel racing…looks like you got your work cut out for ya, darlin’.”

Chloe just sighed, taking another slug of coffee and tugging the list from his hand. 

The portable sandfish pond was summarily dismissed in favor of a temporary one dug out near the moisture farm. The drill Chloe had made months ago finally got the dust brushed off of it, metaphorically speaking. By the time she’d drilled deep enough, it and she were both coated in a thin layer of gritty sand. Thankfully, Elsie was responsible for stocking the fish. 

Chloe couldn’t get over the fact that they had legs. 

Shuddering, she climbed up the series of stones steps she’d built into the side of the pond. 

“Howdy, Chloe! You ready for this?” 

“Oh, I am absolutely not participating in any of these events.”

“Well sure, but yer still gonna come watch, right? You know Logan’s gonna win like half of ‘em. But don’t tell my pa I said that. He spent two hours lecturing me last night on my lack of ‘support’ and ‘faith in his shootin’ arm’.” 

She hadn’t really thought about it. This was the first big festival since Logan’s return to Sandrock, and while overall he’d begun to smile more regularly, there were still days he’d pause mid-stride, gaze sweeping over the sand dunes and sagebrush, as if waiting for someone. 

She tried not to push, or ask, and he’d snap himself out of the trance on his own. But his smile was a little slower to cross his face afterwards, and it made her heart hurt. 

“You think he’ll participate?” 

“He said he was when Justice asked him.“ Elsie shrugged, lifting the sandfish trap she held in one hand. A tiny leg stuck out between the slats of wood and Chloe shivered, giving the trap and the girl who carried it a wide birth. 

Light those things were creepy. 

Mentally, Chloe checked off items on her list, swinging by the oasis to see if Mi-an needed any help with the mud wrestling arena. 

She didn’t, of course, the temporary pit already filled with sludge piped in from the nearby pool of water. The back half of Cooper’s ranch had been converted to a barrel racing and yakmel roping course, and the shooting tournament would take place along the fence line she’d repaired that morning. Old tin cans sat in a small box nearby, just waiting for tomorrow and the tournament. 

“Now I tell you what, Chloe, back in my day we didn’t have none of this here fancy ‘arenas’ for this ‘ro-day-oh’. No sirree, we went out into the desert like Peach intended.” 

Chloe sincerely doubted Peach had put any thought into anything like this, but refrained from mentioning it, letting Cooper’s voice drone on. She’d almost managed to nod off when Andy came up, a small bronze star pin stuck to his shirt. 

“Chloe! Chloe! I got third place!” 

Andy’s smile was infectious, even Cooper pausing to smile at the boy.

“Well now, lookee there. Ya done did good, kid. Did I ever tell you about the time a rocket rooster grew human hands and fell into the sandfish pond?” 

Chloe tuned him out, gaze skipping over the crowd gathered on either side of the makeshift range. Trudy sat off to the side, a small colored paddle in her hand. She would serve as judge for this event, though the outcome was all but guaranteed.

Four shooters lined up, the Sheriff, the Deputy, some tourist, and Logan. From this distance, she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she caught the smirk on Logan’s face as Justice said something. His reply had Justice turning towards him, hands on his hips and head shaking.

Unsuur’s name was called, Owen serving as emcee for most of the crowded events. This one was surprisingly popular, but Chloe had a sneaking suspicion that word had gotten out that the “fearsome bandit Logan” would be competing. 

Both Catori and Arvio were doing a brisk business, selling snacks and sunscreen to poor, hapless tourists. But as Unsuur took his place behind the firing line, the noise died down, quiet murmurs and the rustle of leaves the only sound. Trudy rang the bell; the deputy drew in a steadying breath and then squeezed the trigger. 

The first shot went wide, the second struck the side of one can, jostling it slightly but unable to knock it over. Unsuur hit his stride on the third and fourth shots, the satisfying ping of metal against metal and the thump of heavy cans hitting dirt packed earth. The fifth shot missed, the sixth did not. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for our deputy Unsuur! The score to beat is now three!”

One extremely pretty blond, freckles dusting her cheeks, screamed his name, waving a homemade sign with I “heart” Unsuur emblazoned on it. Chloe bit back a grin as he blushed, tipping his hat towards the woman and shuffling off to the waiting area behind the firing line. 

The tourist was next, but whether it was nerves or lack of skill, every single one of his shots went wide. 

He was a good sport about it, waving sheepishly to the crowd as they politely clapped. Chloe and Andy clapped too, albeit it with somewhat reserved enthusiasm. 

“What a waste,” Andy said under his breath. “I coulda shot better than that.”

“Maybe, but you still aren’t allowed a gun til you’re older.” 

Andy opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it as Justice stepped forward. 

All six of his shots hit, but only four of the cans fell, the second and fifth canisters remaining stubbornly on the rail. 

“That was some mighty fine shootin’ from our Sheriff. Let’s give him a round of applause, folks!” 

The crowd cheered a little louder, a few chants of “Justice! Justice!!” spilling from a not insignificant number of throats. Justice waved half heartedly, before he took a seat next to Unsuur. 

“Last but not least, our final shooter for the day. You know his name.  Sandrock’s very own monster hunter, Logan!”

A hushed silence fell over the crowd, no one even daring to breathe as Logan stepped casually to line. 

His stance was relaxed, shoulders down, pistol held in a steady grip at his side. The chime sounded, its echo swallowed by the repeated bark of a gun, each shot blending seamlessly into the next.

It was over in a blink, the fence line empty. 

The crowd went wild, cheers erupting from every direction. Logan’s gaze went to her, that smile that was becoming more and more frequent plastered to his face. 

Chloe answered with a grin of her own, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting his name, just as Andy did. 

Logan and Chloe were both conspicuously absent for the mud wrestling. 

Chapter Text

The diagram was taunting her. More like mocking her, if Raya was being completely honest. The sun-bleached parchment fluttered in the breeze, fallen leaves from the tree up on the ridgeline blowing orange and gold across the steel of her assembly station. 

It was still unreasonably warm, and having survived one autumn in Sandrock already, Raya knew that the temperature would fluctuate wildly during the day. She’d be sweating by mid morning, and then be forced to don a coat the minute the sun tipped below the horizon. Even that fitful breeze that swirled sand and leaves across her path couldn’t cool her overheated skin. What *would* help was the bare bones of the diagram that sat under that bright sun. 

Raya had the base, and the pole, but nowhere, in any of her boxes, did she have leather. And she’d looked. Twice. Cursing the entire time. 

It was her fault, she knew. She’d been lazy about replenishing her stores since the starship ruins 

She cursed more as a familiar silhouette peeked over her fence, the ridiculous hat with its stupid horns casting a devilish shadow along the sand. His smile was anything but devilish, lighting up his whole face. 

Raya’s scowl deepened. “You need something?”

“Do you?” he replied.

Raya blinked at him, sure she misheard. A moment passed, then another, the two of them staring at each other. Scratching the back of his neck, Logan leapt over the fence, ignoring the gate that was three feet to the right. She tried not to be impressed at the easy grace he displayed, but failed. 

Left feeling a bit like a slug, dirty and disheveled, Raya stuck her hands in her pockets. Lest she make a fool of herself by touching him. 

“I uh-, I just got out. Of jail, I mean” 

“I’m aware.” She was. The whole town was practically celebrating in the streets about it. 

Red crept over his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. 

It shouldn’t have made her feel better, but it did. 

“Well, as part of my sentence I’m helpin’ out. Was wonderin’ what I could help with. If ya need materials or somethin’?” 

He glanced at the diagram then, studying her scrawling script. 

“Ya need leather?” 

Her scowl deepened, refusal on the tip of her tongue. She could get her own damn leather. 

“I owe ya one. Don’t be stubborn and let me help. Won’t take long.”

“Fine then,” she sighed, fanning her face with her hand in an attempt to generate more than a stirring of air.

“Great. Back in a bit, Builder.” 

She worked under the beating sun for a few more hours, pushing through the heat with the prospect of a finished umbrella. It wasn’t until well past midday that Logan returned, carrying a stack of suspiciously colored fabric in his hands. 

“These work?”

If she glared any harder Raya thought she might shoot lasers out of her eyes. 

“Why are they white and pink?” she bit out. 

“Thought you’d like ‘em.” The teasing glint in his eyes gave him away. “Surprised to see ya make one of these though. The way yer always shoving those little umbrellas into Owen’s pocket had me wonderin’ if ya had a personal grudge against ‘em or somethin’.”

“They don’t belong in drinks,” she muttered, taking the bundle from him. Leather, painted white and pink in alternating stripes, was folded and creased so that the paint didn’t crack. 

“Thank you,” she said, already stretching the leather across the waiting rods. Then paused. He had helped her, gone out of his way to assist. She could be a bitkinder. “I-uh, I appreciate it.” 

“Yer welcome, Raya.”

At the sound of her name in his voice, she startled, her gaze shooting to his already retreating form, and the confident swagger he seemed to move with now that he was back in town. She supposed it wasn’t the worst view in the world.