𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Y/N has been assigned on a solo undercover mission. Infiltrate the warehouse, secure the flash drive, and evade detection; seems simple enough. But what happens if she gets caught by a dangerous criminal & her life hangs in the balance?
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Y/N is leaving work from Slough House rather late one evening and passes River's office to find him still sitting at his desk. She persuades him to not be so uptight & to come have a drink with her at the pub. She learns a bit more about him that night - including the fact that River Cartwright is a massive lightweight.
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: They despised one another & barely tolerated each other while working at Slough House. Tensions rise as they are sent out into the field together, working undercover to search for a sleeper agent in the cozy village of Upshott. To avoid being caught, they are forced to pretend that they are "together". Being so close in each others company causes certain feelings rise to the surface that they have both tried to bury for far too long.
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Amongst the chaos of World War II breaking out, 23 year old Charlotte Brooks was desperate to be of use to her country. Fresh out of training, she is sent to the coast of France to work in a British base field hospital. It soon becomes clear that no amount of training could have prepared her for the traumatic sights she would see. One night, the hospital receives a convoy of trauma patients, soldiers who have been brutally injured while fighting on the front line. That night, an RAF pilot is taken into her care and it seems that she ends up finding love where she didn't go searching for it.
SUMMARY: In a world built on war, survival, and impossible odds, feelings were a luxury neither of them could afford — especially not feelings for Sevro au Barca. After years of Y/N hiding her feelings, it takes Sevro returning from a near-fatal mission for her to realise that tomorrow isn't promised — and neither are second chances.
warnings/disclaimers: she/her pronouns used, mentions of violence, blood & gore, near death experience, mutual pining.
notes: this is a work of fiction; any names, characters from the red rising series by pierce brown, places & incidents will either be a product of my imagination or used fictionally (10.4k words)
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
The med bay had emptied hours ago.
The last patient had been discharged, all supplies restocked, the reports filed — most of them, anyway.
Y/N sat alone at one of the workstations, shoulders aching from being hunched over for so long. The overhead lights had dimmed into the ship's night cycle, casting everything in a soft blue glow.
The smart thing would have been to go to bed.
Instead, she found herself staring at the same line of text for the fifth time, the data pad casting a pale glow across the desk. As a Yellow aboard the ship and the resident doctor, she sifted through patient reports left behind.
She rubbed at her eyes as exhaustion started to seep through, forcing herself to focus. These weren’t new cases — just old files, half-updated notes and lingering treatment logs from the previous ship’s doctor — but she’d promised herself she would finish reviewing them before sleeping.
That had been two hours ago.
Y/N pulled the sleeves of her jacket over her hands and drew a knee up to her chest, resting her chin on it. Her socked foot tapped lightly against the floor as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, then opened them again, as if she could chase away the warmth buzzing in her chest.
A knock sounded from the far corner of the room.
Her eyes lifted, glancing up in reaction.
There stood Sevro in the doorway, holding a tray in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.
He wore dark cargo pants, scuffed black combat boots, and a hooded jacket that mirrored her own, making him look like a shadowy reflection of herself.
"You're alive," he drawled, tilting his head as his gaze swept over her.
Y/N shot him a playful, dry look. "That's usually how it works."
"Hmm,” he sauntered, stepping inside, carrying that same careless confidence he seemed to wear as naturally as his wolfskin. "Wasn't sure. You've been staring at that screen so long, I figured your brain might've started leaking out your ears."
Her lips twitched into a small smile despite herself.
Sevro grinned almost immediately, catching it. He crossed the room and set the tray down beside her on the desk with a small flourish, as though he'd personally prepared a feast instead of whatever scraps he'd managed to scavenge.
Food.
Real food.
Well. Real enough.
Y/N glanced down at the tray, then back up at him, raising an eyebrow, "What's this?"
He dropped into the chair beside hers before she could protest, deliberately angling himself away from the desk like he had no intention of doing anything productive, then stretched his legs out with a satisfied sigh. “I stole it.”
Her eyebrows furrowed instead now. "You stole food?"
"I liberated it," he pointed a finger at her in mock correction. "Big difference."
She couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously.
His grin was still there, but up close he looked exhausted.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and there was a fresh bruise blooming across his jaw that definitely hadn't been there that morning. His hair was a mess even by Sevro standards, sticking up in every direction possible.
She picked at the food, turning over a questionable-looking piece with the fork before deciding it was probably edible. Beside her, Sevro leaned farther back in his chair until it balanced precariously on two legs as his boots found their way onto a nearby cabinet.
He watched Y/N eat out of the corner of his eye like he was monitoring a tactical situation.
“Have you eaten?” she asked him between bites, reaching out for the bottle of water with one hand while the other absently pushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, Sevro lingered in that infuriating way of his — half-distracted, half-defiant.
“Maybe,” he finally muttered, shoulders lifting in a careless shrug that didn’t do much convincing.
Y/N stopped chewing mid-bite, slowly lowering her fork as her eyes narrowed at him.
“Sevro,” she said, his name coming out sharper now, threaded with warning.
He glanced at her then, feigning innocence for exactly half a second before it cracked.
“What?” he shot back, voice edging toward defensive as he shifted in his seat.
Her grip tightened slightly on the bottle of water before she set it down with deliberate care.
“Have. You. Eaten.” she repeated, each word spaced out with controlled patience, her gaze locking onto him like she was about to diagnose something far more serious than stubbornness.
His eyes narrowed, defensive on instinct, like she’d just accused him of treason instead of malnutrition.
“Why do you Yellows always ask so many gory damn questions?” he muttered, voice rough with annoyance, though it lacked any real bite.
“Because idiots like you keep trying to survive on caffeine and spite,” she shot back without missing a beat.
“And it works just fine,” Sevro said automatically, leaning back in his chair with that familiar feral ease, chin tilting up like he was daring her to argue further.
She lifted the bottle of water to her lips and gave him a long, unimpressed look over the rim as she drank. “I’ll pull rank on you,” she said flatly once she lowered it.
That earned a pause.
His expression shifted just slightly — but he soon shrugged as if he’d already decided the outcome in his favour.
“I think it’s me who holds rank over you, actually,” he said, too quick, too smug, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She let out a slow breath through her nose.
“Then consider this a threat,” she replied, setting her bottle down.
“A threat, huh?” Sevro echoed, leaning closer now, eyes glinting with that sharp, feral amusement he always wore when he thought he was about to win something.
She rolled her eyes, but the edge in her voice softened as she nudged her tray closer to him, sliding it across the table. “Eat something real,” she said, quieter now, like it wasn’t a request he actually had a choice about.
He narrowed his eyes at her until he reached forward, taking a piece of food into his mouth before shoving his hands back into the pockets of his hooded jacket.
A few seconds passed.
“You always like this?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched her, even though he already knew the answer.
“Like what?” she replied, not looking up right away as she adjusted something on the tray.
“Bossy,” he said, leaning back in his chair again, boots shifting under his weight.
Y/N let out a quiet snort, finally meeting his gaze. “Only when I’m right.”
That earned him a low, amused huff of laughter.
“That’s most of the time, then,” he shot back without hesitation.
She rolled her eyes at him, “I hate you.”
She had said it rather flatly, nudging the tray a little closer again, insisting without words.
Sevro didn’t even blink. The corner of his mouth curled, smug and entirely too sure of himself.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, softer now, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
Y/N didn’t argue.
The words slipped out so casually that it was as if her heart had faltered.
Fortunately, Sevro seemed completely unaware of the effect he'd had.
Or maybe he wasn't.
Sometimes it was impossible to tell.
Outside the ship, the void kept doing what it always did — falling apart, rebuilding, starting wars it couldn’t finish.
Sevro leaned further back into his chair, still chewing, still watching her like she was a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve yet.
"You know," he began after a while, staring at the ceiling, "Darrow thinks you're going to work yourself into an early grave."
Y/N groaned almost immediately, letting her head fall back. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"
"Because you're insane." He answered without missing a beat.
She looked at him with a sarcastic look plastered on her face, "Oh, coming from you?"
"Exactly," he jabbed a thumb toward his chest. "I'm a professional. Takes one to know one."
A laugh had escaped from her before she could stop it.
The sound seemed to catch both of them off guard.
Her smile lingered on her lips.
Across from her, Sevro blinked, then his grin started to soften around the edges.
For a brief moment the usual sharpness left his expression, replaced by something warmer, quieter. He shook his head slightly, like he couldn't quite believe he'd managed to make you laugh.
"There she is," he murmured, almost to himself.
Then, noticing she'd heard him, he immediately ruined the moment by reaching over and stealing a piece of food off the tray again.
Y/N took a moment to glance toward the big digital clock on the wall.
2:03 a.m.
“You should be sleeping,” she remarked quietly, voice softer now, more tired than teasing.
Sevro snorted in response, dragging the heel of his hand lightly over the bruise along his jaw like he was testing how much it still hurt. “So should you,” he shot back, like it was obvious she was just as guilty as he was.
“Fair,” she admitted after a beat, exhaling through her nose.
“Fair,” he echoed immediately, the word bending into something wry as the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint, crooked smile — gone almost as soon as it appeared.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she looked back up at him properly.
The smile didn’t last.
She watched as he shifted in place, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his oversized jacket, shoulders slightly hunched now as the casual edge slipped off him. His gaze dropped for a moment, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth — thoughtless, almost absent.
Gods.
That was dangerous.
Y/N looked away quickly, suddenly far too interested in the edge of the tray in front of her.
Somewhere along the way, Sevro had become one of her favourite people to be around.
She weren't entirely sure when that had happened.
Maybe during the endless months aboard ship.
Maybe during one of the countless nights spent patching him up after training accidents.
Whatever the reason, it was a problem.
A massive one.
Because every day it became harder for her to ignore the way her stomach flipped whenever he walked into a room.
Harder to ignore how closely she’d tracked his injuries.
How relieved she always felt when he came back from missions alive, well and in one piece.
“You thinking too hard again?”
Y/N blinked.
Sevro had his head turned toward her already, like he’d been watching for a while and only just decided to call her out on it. Elbows resting loosely against the back of the chair, posture lazy in that coiled, predatory way of his — like a blade pretending it wasn’t sharp.
“What?” she asked simply, brows furrowing and gaze narrowing.
His eyes narrowed right back, bright and assessing under the dim med bay light. “That face.”
“What face?”
“The one you make when you’re trapped inside your own head,” he said, like he was diagnosing a problem he’d seen too many times to ignore.
She immediately looked away. “I don’t make a face.”
A beat.
Sevro scoffed, low and amused. “You absolutely make a face.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
Y/N huffed another quiet laugh before she could stop it, lips twitching despite herself. “You’re annoying.”
“Professionally,” he agreed without hesitation, leaning back like the accusation was actually a compliment.
Then, like it was nothing at all, he added, “Darrow says it’s one of my best qualities.”
“Well, Darrow is wrong.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Oh, yeah? You ask him that yourself?” she pressed, finally looking back at him, eyebrow raised.
“Nah,” Sevro’s grin turned crooked, wolfish at the edges. “But if I did, he’d agree.”
That got her. A short laugh slipped out before she could catch it.
It was infuriating how easy he made that.
And that was when it changed.
Just slightly.
Her laugh seemed to catch him off guard again. Not enough for most people to notice — but Y/N did.
His grin didn’t disappear, not fully, but something in it shifted. Softer at the edges. Less shield, more… exposed.
The room felt quieter after that.
The med bay hum filled the space where words had been.
She had only now became properly aware of how close he was sitting to her.
Close enough that if either of them shifted, there wouldn’t be room to pretend it didn’t matter. Close enough to see the gold flecks scattered through his eyes — wild, restless things that didn’t belong in anything so human. Close enough to notice the scar cutting through one eyebrow, old and familiar.
And close enough that her hair — dark, dyed deliberately over what used to be Gold — fell forward near her cheek, hiding the faint reminder of what she were born as.
What she’d chosen to cover.
Sevro didn’t look away.
Neither did Y/N.
The jokes had burned off without either of them noticing.
His gaze flicked — slow, almost heavy — from her eyes to her mouth.
Heat rushed up Y/N’s neck before she could stop it.
The space between the two of them tightened, taut as a drawn wire.
One move.
That was all it would take.
She could feel her breath catch in the back of her throat.
So did his.
And then—
Sevro shifted slightly.
Not away, but toward her.
His hand lifted, slower than anything about him ever was. Rough fingers — scarred, calloused, built for knives and violence — hesitated for half a second like they didn’t trust themselves with anything gentle.
Then he reached for her.
A strand of Y/N’s dark-dyed hair had fallen loose near her cheek. Black against skin that still carried faint echoes of Gold beneath it, no matter how much she had tried to bury it.
His fingers brushed it back into place.
Barely there.
Careful in a way Sevro au Barca never was.
He tucked it behind her ear, knuckles grazing her temple for just a second too long to be accidental — and just short enough to pretend it was.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
His hand lingered like he’d forgotten to pull it away.
Then his throat bobbed.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
The word cracked the spell.
Y/N looked down too quickly, suddenly very interested in absolutely anything that wasn’t him.
Sevro stood up so fast his chair scraped harshly against the floor.
“I should go,” he said, voice rougher now. Controlled again. Forced back into shape.
“Right,” she answered, though neither of them moved properly yet.
He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, rubbing like he could scrub the moment off his skin. Then he let out a short, awkward laugh — wrong on him. Unstable at the edges.
Sevro didn’t do awkward.
He did war.
He did chaos.
Not this.
“Get some sleep,” he muttered.
She simply hummed in response, “You too.”
“Yeah,” he huffed. “Good one.”
Her eyes rolled, but her mouth betrayed her with a small smile anyway.
His returned it — smaller now. Realer.
When he reached for the empty tray, his fingers brushed hers.
Then it was gone.
His eyes met hers, almost purposefully, one last time.
Something unspoken passed between them — dangerous in its softness.
Then he finally stepped back.
“Goodnight, Sevro,” Y/N said quietly.
He lingered in the doorway just long enough to make it feel deliberate.
“Night, sweetheart,” he said, low and rough, like the word didn’t quite fit in his mouth.
And then he was gone.
Leaving the med bay too quiet.
Too empty.
And Y/N sitting there with the ghost of his touch still on her skin — and the very inconvenient realisation that Sevro au Barca had just looked at her like she was something worth being careful with.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
The morning air inside the ship tasted recycled and metallic, threaded with antiseptic from the med bay lockers stacked near the hanger bay.
She stood beside one of the secured medical crates, checking inventory against a data pad while technicians moved through final launch procedures around her. Greys shouted over one another. Harness locks clicked into place. Somewhere deeper in the ship, engines began their low, vibrating hum.
Another doctor hovered nearby, fussing over supplies with increasing irritation.
“You packed enough coagulants for a battlefield?” he asked her for the third time.
“Yes.”
“And the trauma kits?”
“Yes.”
“Portable scanner?”
She looked up flatly. “Yes.”
He sighed dramatically. “I’m trying to keep people alive.”
“You assigned me to a ship full of Howlers. Bit late for that.”
A few nearby crewmen snorted.
The doctor muttered something under his breath about reckless idiots and stalked off toward another crate.
And through all of it, Y/N only saw him.
Sevro came down the narrow corridor from the cockpit with Darrow beside him, wolf cloak thrown over one shoulder like it weighed nothing at all. His pulse armour was black this morning, scorched at one pauldron from some older fight he clearly hadn’t bothered repairing properly.
Knives lined his body in ugly, familiar places. One was strapped sideways against his chest. Another at his thigh. Gods knew how many more were hidden.
His hair looked worse than usual. Like he’d cut it himself with a combat blade in the dark.
Darrow was saying something serious beside him, low and measured in that usual Reaper way of his.
“…we hit the dockyards first,” Darrow said under his breath. “If the jammers fail, we abort immediately. No improvising.”
Sevro scoffed at him, “Improvising’s my best quality.”
Darrow glanced toward her then, catching the way Sevro’s attention had already drifted completely away from the conversation.
Always too fast.
His mouth twitched immediately into that crooked little grin that wasn’t quite a smile.
“There she is,” he muttered, though loud enough for everyone standing in the launch bay to hear.
Darrow followed his gaze, expression unreadable for exactly one second before he shook his head faintly and continued toward the cockpit.
“Try not to antagonize the medic before launch,” he said as he passed.
“No promises.”
Sevro peeled away without hesitation.
The closer he got, the more she noticed the bruising along his jaw. A split knuckle. Fresh blood beneath one nail. He smelled faintly of smoke and gun oil and cold recycled air.
“Thought you’d still be asleep, Doc,” he said, voice rough from lack of sleep. “Normal people rest before suicidal missions.”
“I work with Howlers,” she replied quietly. “I stopped being normal months ago.”
A sharp bark of laughter left him.
“Fair point.”
But then the grin faded a little.
Just enough.
The noise of the ship seemed to dull around them. Not gone — just distant now. Secondary.
His eyes dragged over her face like he was checking for something. Making sure she was real. Still there.
The memory of yesterday still sat heavy between them.
The too-close moment in the med bay. The way his hand had rested briefly against her temple, running over her cheek and tucking that strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in before he pulled away completely.
Like he hadn’t meant to do it.
Almost like it had scared him.
Sevro scratched at the back of his neck now, suddenly restless in her company.
“Mission’ll probably be quick,” he muttered in the space between them. “Couple idiots to kill. Couple explosions. Maybe a dramatic escape if the Reaper’s feeling theatrical.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring at all.”
“It’s not supposed to be reassuring.” His mouth curled faintly. “It’s supposed to be honest.”
She hated how easily fear settled into her chest whenever he geared up like this.
Because Sevro always looked most like himself before violence.
Alive, in a terrible way.
Like some feral thing finally being let off its chain.
“You could at least pretend to care about surviving,” she said softly.
The words landed somewhere between a plea and a reprimand. She stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest, watching him like she expected him to bolt the second she blinked. The concern in her voice was quiet, but it carried enough weight to make lesser men pause.
He snorted.
The sound was sharp and dismissive. Sevro dragged a hand through his unruly hair, smearing dirt across his temple in the process. He shifted his weight against the wall, mouth twitching with the ghost of a grin that never quite reached his eyes.
As usual, seriousness seemed to itch beneath his skin. “Doc, surviving’s literally my best skill.”
He spread his hands as if presenting an undeniable fact, then tapped two fingers against his chest. The grin widened into something crooked and feral. “Look at me. Still here.”
The joke came easy, automatic. A shield thrown up before anyone could get too close to whatever sat underneath. But beneath the sarcasm, there was the familiar restless energy — the constant readiness of a man who'd spent most of his life expecting the next knife, the next ambush, the next impossible fight.
“Sevro,” she sighed heavily, his name leaving her lips like a warning.
At that, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and let his head thunk lightly against the wall behind him. One corner of his mouth twitched upward.
For a moment he didn't answer. He just stared off somewhere over her shoulder, jaw working slightly as if chewing on words he'd rather swallow.
Then he glanced back at her, expression caught between amusement and annoyance, already preparing another joke to dodge whatever came next.
Yet, something in her voice made him pause.
Actually pause.
Her throat tightened immediately when she saw the shift in his expression. The humour dimmed. The sharpness softened around the edges, just for her.
“Be safe,” she pleaded, the words were barely above a whisper, almost lost beneath the noise around them.
Simple words.
But they somehow felt enormous.
Sevro looked at her for a long second.
Then another.
Gods, he was awful at this part. At feelings. At tenderness. She could practically see him fighting his own instincts not to deflect with some crude joke.
Instead, to her surprise, he stepped closer.
Close enough she could see that same tiny scar cutting through his eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he relented after a moment. “I’ll try.”
Not cocky this time.
Not teasing.
Real.
Her fingers curled instinctively against the sleeves of her jacket to stop herself from reaching for him first.
Because if she touched him now, she knew she might not let go.
Sevro noticed anyway. Of course he did.
His gaze flicked downward briefly before returning to hers.
Then, as quickly as breathing, he leaned in and bumped his forehead lightly against hers.
A Howler sort of affection. Strange and fleeting and far too intimate.
“You worry too much,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
The grin that followed was familiar — crooked, irritating, and entirely too pleased with itself for someone who regularly treated self-preservation like a suggestion rather than a rule.
He nudged her shoulder lightly with his own, trying to steer the conversation away from anything serious.
“You almost die too much.”
She didn't miss a beat.
Her stare was flat enough to stop most people in their tracks. Unfortunately, Sevro had spent years charging headfirst into situations that should have killed him, so a look of disapproval barely registered.
A short bark of laughter escaped him, “That’s also fair.”
He lifted both hands in surrender, as if conceding a point in an argument he'd never intended to win in the first place.
“See?” his grin widened, equal parts sheepish and unapologetic, “Glad we can agree on something.”
For all the humour in his voice, there was a flicker of acknowledgment beneath it. A rare admission that she wasn't wrong.
Even if he'd rather throw himself into another fight than say so outright.
The animated voice of a Blue interrupted them, crackling over the ship comms.
“Launch in thirty seconds.”
Sevro exhaled through his nose and leaned back slightly.
Then he looked at her one last time.
And for one dangerous second, she thought he might kiss her.
Instead, he took a step backward, boots scraping against the floor. The movement put space between them, but judging by the way his jaw tightened, he seemed to regret it instantly.
“When I get back,” he said, pointing at her lazily, “you’re sleeping. You look like gory damn shit.”
The accusation came with a careless flick of his wrist. He squinted at her as though conducting a thorough medical examination, then nodded once to himself, apparently satisfied with his own diagnosis.
Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, fighting a smile. The look she gave him was equal parts disbelief and challenge, “You’re giving me orders now?”
Sevro tapped two fingers against his chest and puffed himself up dramatically, “I’m basically a medical professional myself.”
The smug grin spreading across his face suggested he expected recognition for years of distinguished service in a field he had absolutely no qualifications for.
“You drank disinfectant once,” she managed to smirk, the reminder left her lips so quickly it was obvious she'd been waiting for the opportunity to use it against him.
“It said not to. That sounds medicinal.”
He spread his hands wide in a gesture that somehow managed to be both defensive and triumphant. One shoulder lifted in a shrug, as though the conclusion was completely reasonable and everyone else was simply failing to appreciate his genius.
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Her hand flew to her mouth a second too late. The sound escaped anyway, warm and genuine, cutting through the tension that had lingered between them all day.
The laugh seemed to hit him harder than expected.
His grin stalled.
Not enough for most people to notice.
Just enough.
His eyes flickered toward her, then away again. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly finding the floor far more interesting than he had a moment ago.
His expression softened again — brief, startled, almost warm.
For a heartbeat, he looked younger. Less like the infamous Goblin and more like the exhausted man underneath all the scars, sarcasm, and reckless confidence.
Then he caught himself.
His mouth twisted into that familiar crooked smirk. He pushed himself off the wall and hooked his thumbs into his belt, dragging the walls back into place before anyone could notice they'd slipped.
The moment was gone.
The Goblin had returned.
“Don’t patch anybody up while I’m gone,” he called while backing toward the cockpit ladder. “Cheating on me with other patients would destroy me emotionally.”
“You are impossible.”
“And yet you like me anyway.”
Before she could answer, warning sirens pulsed softly through the ship as the engines roared louder beneath their feet.
Sevro grabbed the overhead rail and shot her one last crooked grin as he disappeared toward the cockpit.
He never looked back.
But just before the blast doors sealed between compartments, a hand appeared briefly through the narrowing gap.
Two fingers raised in a crooked salute.
For her.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
She did not sleep well.
Not that she expected to.
The ship had settled into the strange artificial quiet that only came after deployment — low engine vibrations beneath the floor, distant comm chatter bleeding through the walls, the occasional thud of movement from crew rotating shifts.
But underneath all of it sat the waiting.
The ugly kind.
The kind every medic learned to live with.
She lay half-awake in her bunk for what felt like hours, staring at the dim ceiling while thoughts circled endlessly through her head.
Be safe.
Such stupidly small words.
As if words had ever stopped death before.
At some point, exhaustion had finally managed to drag her under.
Then—
“WAKE UP!”
Hands grabbed her shoulder and shook her hard enough that the world jolted violently back into focus.
Urgent in a way that cut straight through sleep like a blade.
Her eyes snapped open instantly, instinct taking over before thought could even catch up.
For a brief, disorienting moment she didn’t know where she was, only that something was wrong — deeply wrong — because nothing about the way she was being woken suggested safety.
The narrow bunk.
The low hum of the ship’s engines.
The dim corridor light bleeding in through the half-open door.
It all came rushing back in pieces, snapping into place like broken glass reassembling itself.
Then she saw Virginia.
She was standing over her in full uniform, golden hair pulled back into a tight, disciplined knot, every part of her appearance perfectly arranged in a way that only made the expression on her face more alarming. Her jacket was fastened cleanly, gloves already on, as if she had come straight from command without stopping for anything.
But it wasn’t the uniform that made dread slam into her chest — it was her face.
Virginia au Augustus did not look like this.
Not ever.
She was someone who held herself steady through crises, who spoke with composure even when everything around her was collapsing. If anything, she was known for being infuriatingly calm when others were losing control.
Now her face was pale beneath the harsh overhead lights, her jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped near her cheek, and her eyes carried a weight that didn’t belong there.
Something carefully contained was pressing against the edges of her control, threatening to spill through.
And that alone was enough to make a cold dread settle in her stomach.
“Mustang?” she asked, her voice still rough with sleep as she pushed herself up slightly.
Mustang didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she glanced toward the corridor behind her, as if checking who might overhear, then stepped fully into the room and closed the distance just enough to make her next words quieter, more controlled.
“The ship just docked,” she said quickly. Her tone was steady, but it was the kind of steadiness that required effort, like holding something fragile together with bare hands. “The mission went wrong.”
Her stomach dropped so sharply it felt like the floor had fallen away beneath the bunk.
“How bad?” she asked, already knowing she didn’t want the answer.
Virginia hesitated.
Just for a second, but it was long enough that it pressed like a weight between them, thickening the air in the small room.
Her gaze flicked away again, only briefly, before returning with something harder in it—something forced into place.
“Bad.”
Y/N was already moving before the word fully landed.
Cold metal flooring hit her bare feet as she shoved herself upright, pulse roaring in her ears. Somewhere beyond the cabin walls alarms were sounding in short, controlled bursts — medical emergency alerts.
Not evacuation.
Wounded.
Gods.
Her hands shook as she blindly reached for her clothes.
“Casualties?” she demanded, already bracing herself for the answer.
“Multiple,” Virginia replied without hesitation.
The word landed like a physical blow anyway.
Y/N’s breath caught sharply in the back of her throat. “Howlers?”
Mustang didn’t answer at first.
She didn’t need to.
The silence did it for her.
The room suddenly felt too small to hold either of them, like the walls had shifted closer without anyone noticing. Heat pressed in from nowhere, suffocating and sharp, and she pushed herself upright too quickly, fumbling as she reached for her combat pants.
Her hands didn’t cooperate the way they should have. Fabric twisted awkwardly between her fingers, and she nearly cursed under her breath before Virginia moved.
Mustang crossed the room in two brisk strides and picked up her boots from beside the bunk, holding them out without ceremony.
“Here.”
“I’ve got them,” she snapped automatically, though she was still struggling with her footing.
Virginia’s gaze flicked over her once, sharp and assessing. “You’re shaking.”
That nearly broke through the edge she was clinging to.
For a moment she didn’t respond. Then she exhaled sharply through her nose and gave up the argument, sitting hard on the edge of the bunk as Virginia crouched in front of her.
The boots went on efficiently — no wasted movement, no hesitation. Just practiced urgency, laces pulled tight and secured with hands that didn’t tremble.
“You need steady hands,” Mustang said firmly, not looking up as she worked on the laces. “Breathe later.”
The words struck something solid inside her. Not comfort exactly — something sharper than that. Structure. Order. A command she could follow when everything else threatened to splinter.
Doctor first.
Compartmentalise.
Break down later.
She swallowed once, hard, and stood the moment the boots were secured, shrugging into her jacket as she moved for the door without waiting another second.
Virginia matched her pace immediately as they stepped into the corridor, the ship’s lighting washing over them in cold, rhythmic pulses.
“What happened?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay level as they walked.
“Ambush,” Virginia said, eyes forward. “Dockyard trap. They got the civilians out, but the Sons lost the extraction route.”
Her jaw tightened. “How long ago?”
“Twenty-three minutes.”
The number hit harder than anything else had so far.
Twenty-three minutes wasn’t just delay — it was momentum, collapse, aftermath already unfolding without them there to stop it.
Her pace quickened instinctively.
Too long.
Gods.
Too long.
She yanked her hair back while half-running through the ship corridors, fingers moving automatically as she twisted it into a knot at the base of her neck. Crewmen flattened themselves against the walls as she stormed past. Somewhere ahead she could already hear shouting spilling from the med bay.
The doors slid open.
Chaos hit her full force.
Blood.
So much blood.
The sharp antiseptic sting of sterilizers mixed horribly with copper and smoke and burned flesh.
Howlers filled nearly every available surface.
One Grey medic was trying desperately to stop arterial bleeding from a mangled leg.
Another patient screamed somewhere behind the surgical divider. Medical trays clattered to the floor. Somebody shouted for plasma. Somebody else shouted for morphine.
And through it all, bodies kept coming.
The entire room snapped toward her the second she entered.
“Doctor!”
“Over here!”
“We’re losing this one—”
She moved instantly, eyes darting around the room as she began barking out orders.
“Seal that wound before transport!”
“You—get pressure there now!”
“No, not that injector, are you stupid? The blue one!”
Her voice cut through the panic sharply enough to stabilize it.
Not calm.
Never calm.
Controlled.
That was enough.
Years of training took over completely now, pushing everything else aside. Fear became compartmentalized. Buried under procedure.
She crossed to the nearest patient first — a young Red, barely more than a boy, with jagged shrapnel embedded deep through his abdomen. The smell of antiseptic and blood mingled in the air, sharp enough to make her stomach twist.
“Vitals?” she asked, crouching beside him.
“Dropping,” a voice answered, tight and clipped.
“Get him into Surgery Two. Immediately.”
A hand gripped her arm, tugging her back slightly.
“We’re out of clot foam.”
Her eyes flicked toward the supply cabinets on the wall. “Cabinet Seven.”
“That was emptied,” the medic said, voice tight with panic.
Then she snapped, precise and cold: “Then strip emergency reserves from trauma storage. Now.”
The medic sprinted away, leaving her to the boy on the table.
Another person shoved a scanner into her hands, and she barely caught it, eyes darting to the readings.
“Collapsed lung,” she muttered, already moving. “Tube him.”
“We need another surgeon,” someone said, voice shaking, barely holding authority in the chaos.
“You have me,” she snapped without looking up, hands already working.
The controlled calm of command pressed against the chaos, a brittle order holding the room together. And then—
The med bay doors burst open.
The sudden intrusion split the room’s rhythm, and silence rippled strangely through the space.
Not complete silence.
Something heavier. A shadow of anticipation, of dread.
Every pair of eyes in the med bay turned instinctively toward the sound.
Darrow stood in the doorway.
Armor blackened.
Blood soaked nearly half his body.
And slung over his shoulder—
No.
No.
Her breathing stopped.
Sevro hung limp in Darrow’s grasp, head lolled unnaturally against the pulse armour. Blood dripped steadily from his fingers onto the floor below, leaving a trail behind as Darrow dragged him.
Too much blood.
Way too much.
For one terrible second she genuinely could not move.
Could not think.
Because it did not look real.
The Sevro everyone knew was loud.
Violent.
Sharp edges and filthy jokes and movement.
Not—
This.
Not limp.
Not silent.
Darrow crossed the room in three brutal strides, grunting with every step as he dragged Sevro across the room like a dead weight.
“Move.”
Everything exploded back into motion.
She shoved an entire tray of instruments violently off the nearest surgical bench. Metal crashed across the floor in a deafening scatter as Darrow laid Sevro down hard atop the surface.
The sight of him nearly shattered her composure instantly.
His armour was torn open across the chest.
One side of his abdomen had been ripped apart so badly she could see exposed muscle beneath the blood. A mixture of burns and deep cuts climbed one arm. A gunshot wound sat just below his ribs.
And there was so much blood.
Far too much.
His skin looked grey beneath the smears of red.
“No pulse ox.”
“He lost too much blood,” Darrow said roughly, trying to catch his breath as he helplessly stared down at his best friend.
She grabbed Sevro’s jaw carefully, turning his face toward the light.
Nothing.
No response.
A horrible sound built in her throat before she crushed it down violently.
No.
Not now.
A medic approached Y/N’s side, pale-faced after one glance at Sevro’s injuries.
“We need someone more senior,” he said quietly.
The words landed heavy in the cramped med-bay, swallowed almost instantly by the hum of failing systems and the distant shudder of the station’s damaged spine. A monitor flickered behind them, stuttering through half a heartbeat of light before dying again.
She shook her head, tugging back a hand to have it stained a dark crimson red with Sevro’s blood, “There’s no time.”
“We can stabilize until—”
“There is no one else,” she said sternly, fingers hovering for half a second above the exposed wound before pressing down again, as if committing herself to it physically as much as verbally.
She pressed her palm harder against his open wounds, jaw tight, eyes flicking to Darrow like she might silently ask for confirmation.
“He’ll die before then.”
The words came out cold enough to freeze the room.
Even the tech at the far console stopped typing for half a second. Someone swallowed audibly, then pretended they hadn’t.
She looked at Darrow then.
Actually looked at him.
Before now, he had been just another shape in motion — blood, armour plating, dusted ash still clinging to the seams of his skin. But now her focus narrowed, cutting through all of it until there was nothing left but the man.
And for the first time since she’d known the Reaper, she saw fear.
Real fear.
Not for himself.
But for Sevro.
Darrow’s jaw flexed once, hard enough to click. His eyes didn’t dart away, but they weren’t steady either — not the way they usually were when ordering death like it was logistics.
“He crashed the jammer manually,” Darrow said quietly. His voice had gone rough, scraped raw by whatever he’d seen down there. “Stayed behind to hold the dock.”
A beat.
Of course he did.
Of course the suicidal goblin stayed behind.
Her hands were already moving over the wounds, assessing damage automatically.
Internal bleeding.
Possible organ rupture.
Massive blood loss.
If she hesitated — he wouldn’t make it out alive. He would die.
The realization hit with brutal clarity.
One of the doctors beside her spoke carefully.
The room fell silent again, the kind of silence that didn’t settle so much as collapse inward — cut off mid-breath, mid-thought, mid-denial. A monitor beeped once, then twice, too loud in the absence of speech.
Because everyone understood exactly what that meant.
No one looked at anyone else. No one wanted to be the one who did.
And if she failed — Sevro would die on this table.
Her throat tightened as she swallowed, hard, like the thought itself had weight. Her hands didn’t stop moving, but the precision sharpened, as if speed could outrun consequence.
Her stomach twisted so violently she thought she might be sick. She exhaled through her nose instead, shallow, controlled, forcing it back down where it belonged.
But then her eyes caught on his hand hanging off the edge of the surgical bench.
Still.
Cold.
A slight tremor ran through her fingers — but only for a second. Then her grip tightened around the surgical drape until it creased under her palm.
And suddenly all fear burned away.
Her shoulders set. Her spine straightened. Her breathing evened out in a single, deliberate pull.
“No one touches him but me,” she said.
Her voice cut through the room this time — no hesitation, no fracture in it. One of the medtechs flinched at the tone alone.
Commanding this time.
“Prep operating room one. Full trauma surgery. Now.”
She didn’t look up as she spoke. Already her hands were moving faster, peeling back damaged material, mapping what had to be done before the machines even arrived.
Everybody moved.
Fast.
Footsteps snapped into motion. Cabinets hissed open. A crash cart rattled as it was shoved free. Surgical systems woke in cascading sequence — beeps, locks releasing, sterilizers cycling up with sharp mechanical certainty.
Machines activated around them in sharp bursts, like the room itself had been startled awake. Surgical lights flared overhead, white and merciless, bleaching colour from skin and blood alike.
Darrow stayed exactly where he was.
Watching and waiting.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink often enough. His hands hung loose at his sides like they’d forgotten what to do without an order attached to them.
She cut the remains of Sevro’s armour away with shaking hands that steadied only once the first incision began.
The moment blade met skin, her breath changed — no longer fear, no longer hesitation — just focus, narrowing everything down to tissue, bone, and the thin, stubborn line between life and loss.
Doctor first.
Break later.
Blood covered her surgical gloves almost instantly.
“He’s crashing,” one medic warned, voice cracking slightly as the monitor spiked into an ugly, irregular rhythm.
“I know.”
She didn’t look up, fingers already adjusting a clamp, tightening it until metal clicked against bone. Her wrist trembled once — then steadied.
“Pressure’s dropping.” Another voice, sharper now, urgent enough to cut through the sterile hum of machines.
“I know.”
She shifted her stance closer to the table, shoulder pressing in as if she could physically counter the failure. Her breathing went shallow, controlled, forced into rhythm with her hands.
Gods.
A breath slipped out through clenched teeth. Not spoken loud enough for anyone to answer. Not meant to be.
Stay alive.
Her fingers tightened around the instrument so hard her knuckles went pale beneath the gloves.
Please.
For a fraction of a second, her eyes shut — just a blink too long to be procedural — then snapped open again, sharper than before.
The surgery blurred into something unreal after that.
Time stopped behaving properly. There were only fragments: a monitor screaming, a clamp dropped and replaced, someone calling for suction that arrived too late, the sharp hiss of oxygen recalibrating mid-crisis.
Hours collapsed strangely inside operating light.
No dawn. No night. Only white glare, blood-warm air, and the relentless, mechanical insistence of not letting go.
Clamp.
Suction.
Stitch.
Blood.
More blood.
Her shoulders burned. Sweat rolled down her spine beneath surgical gear, sticky and heavy.
It was twice that his heart threatened to stop entirely.
And it was twice that Y/N managed to drag him back.
At one point, she felt someone touching her shoulder gently. “You need another surgeon.”
She flinched, stiffened for a heartbeat, then shook her head, eyes still locked on Sevro.
“No.” Her voice was sharp and clipped, jaw tight, fingers pressing harder against his chest.
“You’re exhausted—”
“No.”
Her head barely moved, only her eyes, scanning monitors and vitals, hands moving faster than thought.
She did not leave the table once.
Not once.
Because every time his pulse weakened beneath the monitors, terror clawed violently through her chest.
Not him.
Please not him.
Not Sevro.
Finally—
The bleeding eventually slowed it’s pace.
Her hands shook just enough to remind her she’d been holding her own breath.
Then stopped.
She exhaled, a sharp, trembling hiss through her nose, shoulders sagging fractionally but refusing collapse.
The monitors stabilized into something steadier.
Weak.
But alive.
Alive.
The realization nearly made her knees give out. She pressed one hand to the edge of the table, leaned close, heart hammering against her ribs as she stared down at Sevro’s unconscious face beneath the bright surgical lights.
She swallowed hard, tasting iron, and for a long moment, the room felt impossibly still.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
Sevro remained completely motionless and did not wake for thirty-six hours.
The first twelve passed in a blur of post-surgical chaos.
The next twelve dragged.
The final twelve nearly destroyed her all together.
The operating room eventually emptied around her piece by piece. Other wounded needed treatment. Emergency calls continued throughout the ship. Medics rotated in shifts, exhausted and hollow-eyed.
But she barely noticed any of it.
Because Sevro remained motionless beneath the dimmed lights of recovery room three.
Too pale.
Too still.
Machines breathed and beeped softly around him, monitoring every fragile thing his body was still trying to do.
And she sat beside him through all of it.
Still wearing bloodstained scrubs, smelling like iron and antiseptic and death.
At some point someone draped a blanket over her shoulders, though she couldn’t remember who.
She watched the slow rise and fall of his tattooed chest like it was the only thing keeping the universe intact.
Every now and then she reached out unconsciously just to touch his wrist, feeling his pulse beat underneath her touch.
Checking.
Alive.
Still alive.
The first time she caught herself doing it, she nearly broke apart.
Because she understood then exactly how terrified she’d been.
Not as a doctor.
Not as a medic responsible for a patient.
As her.
As someone who had already let him crawl far too deeply beneath her skin.
The room doors slid open quietly sometime during the second night cycle. She didn’t look up immediately, fingers still brushing against Sevro’s arm.
“Y/N,” she heard Darrow’s voice fill the room. It sounded rougher than usual. Tired. Gravelly in a way that made her chest tighten.
She leaned back in the chair slowly, scrubbing both hands over her face.
Only then did she realize they were still faintly stained pink despite repeated washing.
“I’m fine,” she muttered automatically, voice brittle, eyes refusing to meet his.
“You’ve been here almost two days,” he leaned against the doorway casually, though his posture was tense underneath, like he wanted to step closer but hadn’t yet.
She tightened her fists in her lap, shoulders rising slightly, “He could crash.”
“He won’t.”
Something in Darrow’s tone made her finally look at him.
The Reaper stood in the doorway out of his armour now, though bruises still shadowed one side of his face. He looked exhausted in a way that reached all the way to the bone.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Darrow crossed the room slowly and stopped beside the bed, his eyes wearily on his best friend.
“You saved him,” he said quietly.
Not praise. Not gratitude. A fact.
She swallowed hard, throat tight. “Barely.”
Her hands twitched against the edge of the chair.
“You still did it,” Darrow whispered, his gaze lingering steady as a tether.
The room went silent again except for the steady monitor tones, each beep punctuating her heartbeat.
Then he looked at her properly.
And whatever he saw there must have broken something in him a little, because his expression softened immediately. “You should rest.”
She shook her head faintly, lips pressed tight. “I can’t.”
“Yes,” he said gently, stepping closer. “You can.”
His hand hovered briefly at her shoulder, patient, grounding.
Her throat tightened violently without warning.
She was so tired.
Not physically.
Everywhere.
The adrenaline had finally burned away, leaving nothing behind except trembling exhaustion and fear she still hadn’t fully processed.
“I thought he was going to die,” she admitted quietly, voice breaking at the edges.
The words cracked on the way out.
Darrow stepped forward before she could look away.
And then, to her complete surprise, he pulled her into a hug.
Not formal.
Not restrained.
Real.
Warm arms wrapped around her shoulders while one large hand settled briefly against the back of her head.
And that—
That nearly undid her completely.
Because Darrow did not hug people lightly.
“You did well,” he said softly, voice pressed into the top of her head.
She shut her eyes hard.
For one horrible second she thought she might actually cry against the Reaper’s shoulder like some exhausted child.
Instead, she inhaled shakily and nodded once.
Darrow pulled back carefully, hands lingering just enough to assure presence without pressure. “I’ll stay with him for a while.”
She hesitated.
Looked toward Sevro instinctively.
Even unconscious, he somehow looked irritated about being injured.
It would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much to see.
Finally, she stood slowly from the chair. Her entire body ached immediately in protest.
“Wake me if anything changes.” Her voice sounded far too soft in the quiet room.
“I will.”
She paused at the doorway.
Then looked back once more.
Sevro remained exactly where she left him.
Alive, but just barely.
The shower water ran red.
At first she stood beneath it fully clothed, too exhausted to think properly while steaming water poured over her head and shoulders.
Then slowly, she watched hazily as the blood began to slide away in ribbons.
Down her arms.
Off her hands.
Across the shower floor.
Sevro’s blood.
The sight of it turning the water pink made something crack violently inside her chest.
She braced both hands against the wall suddenly, unable to contain how hard she was breathing.
There had been so much blood.
Enough that she still remembered the feeling of it slipping warm between her fingers while trying desperately to keep him alive.
Her hands started shaking again.
Then harder.
A broken sob escaped her before she could stop it.
She slid down the shower wall until she sat curled beneath the water, forehead pressed against trembling knees while exhaustion and delayed terror finally hit all at once.
He almost died.
He almost died and she would never have told him—
The thought hurt too much to finish.
Steam curled around her while the last traces of blood spiralled slowly down the drain.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
When Sevro woke, the first thing he did was try to rip out his IV.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snapped from beside the bed, her voice cracking sharply through the recovery room before his fingers could reach the tubing.
Sevro froze mid-motion.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head toward her.
His face looked awful, bruised and cut open in places.
Paler than usual beneath the scars.
But his eyes—
Alive.
“There she is,” he rasped weakly, relief and exhaustion mixing together as his gaze finally found hers.
Relief hit her so hard she actually had to grip the edge of the chair beside his bed.
“You absolute bastard,” she breathed, the insult falling apart beneath the sheer weight of her relief.
His mouth twitched faintly.
“Missed me?” he asked, managing the smallest hint of a grin despite looking like death itself.
“You nearly died,” she shot back, staring at him as if making sure he was actually there.
“Bit dramatic,” Sevro muttered, barely lifting an eyebrow before the effort seemed to tire him.
“You flatlined twice,” she reminded him, refusing to let him joke his way around that particular fact.
“Only twice? Much be losing my touch,” he uttered dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward before a wince cut the expression short.
She stared at him in pure disbelief.
Then suddenly she was moving.
Making her way around the bed in three fast steps before sitting down next to him on the thin mattress, grabbing his face carefully between both hands like she still needed proof he was real.
Sevro went completely still beneath her touch.
Not joking now.
Not deflecting.
Just staring at her.
“You idiot,” she whispered shakily. “You stupid suicidal idiot.”
Something shifted in his expression then.
His injured hand lifted slowly, painfully, until it wrapped weakly around her wrist, “I saw you.”
She frowned slightly, studying his face.
“What?” she asked quietly, unable to read the strange look in his eyes.
“When I was bleeding out,” he admitted, his voice rough and quiet from the damage to his throat. “Saw your face.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“Sevro—” she started, but the words caught before they could go any further.
“I knew if I made it back…” he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping briefly to where her hand rested beside his, “It’d be because of you.”
A heavy silence settled between them.
Sevro looked at her like he was trying to figure out how much honesty he could survive.
Probably not much.
Still, he tried.
“You’re in my head all the time now,” he muttered bitterly, a faint grimace crossing his face. “It’s gory damn annoying.”
A wet laugh escaped her unexpectedly.
He continued staring at her.
Serious despite the words.
“You consume me, Y/N,” he confessed, the admission sounding almost reluctant as it left his mouth.
The confession sounded like it physically hurt him to say.
Which somehow made it worse.
Better.
Everything.
His thumb brushed weakly against her wrist.
“I go into missions thinking about you,” he admitted, his jaw tightening as though the truth itself was uncomfortable. “Wake up thinking about you. Half the reason I survived down there was because all I could think was—”
He stopped abruptly, like he’d already said too much.
Her eyes burned instantly, tears beginning to blur her vision.
“What?” she whispered, afraid of the answer and desperate for it all at once.
Sevro looked away toward the ceiling briefly.
Actually embarrassed.
A miracle.
“That I wasn’t done with you yet,” he finished quietly, refusing to look at her.
Gods.
That nearly shattered her.
She leaned down before she could think better of it and pressed her forehead carefully against his.
The same way he had before the mission.
Only this time neither of them pulled away.
“I thought you were gone,” she admitted softly to him, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.
Sevro exhaled shakily against her skin.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. “Me too.”
Then, because he was still Sevro even now, he added weakly, a crooked smile tugging at his bruised mouth. “Pretty hot that you carved me open though.”
She laughed through tears immediately, the sound breaking free before she could stop it.
“You really are unbelievable,” she informed him, shaking her head in utter disbelief.
“Saved my life. Violated me medically. Basically married now,” he declared with the confidence of a man who had absolutely no business making jokes in his condition.
“You were unconscious,” she pointed out dryly, rolling her eyes.
“Still counts,” he insisted, shrugging without hesitation.
She shook her head helplessly, smiling despite herself.
And Sevro—
Sevro looked at her like he'd never seen anything more dangerous in his life.
The room fell quiet after that.
Not truly silent — the recovery monitors still hummed softly beside the bed, engines still vibrated faintly somewhere deep in the ship — but the noise faded into the background until it hardly mattered.
Because all she could seem to hear was him breathing.
All she could see was the way Sevro looked at her now.
Open.
Or as open as Sevro Barca could possibly be without immediately setting something on fire out of self-defence.
His forehead still rested lightly against hers. His fingers remained curled weakly around her wrist, rough and warm despite the blood loss.
Neither of them dared to move away.
For once, there was no armour left between them.
No filthy joke quick enough to fully hide behind.
Though she could practically see him trying to think of one.
“You keep staring at me like that,” Sevro murmured hoarsely, “and I’m gonna start believing you actually like me.”
She huffed a soft laugh through lingering tears. “You are unbearable.”
“And yet…” he whispered.
That crooked little almost-smile nearly ruined her.
Her gaze flicked downward before she could stop herself.
To his mouth.
Bruised now.
Split slightly at one corner.
But still Sevro.
Still him.
His breathing pattern changed immediately, barely noticeable.
But she felt it.
Saw the exact second he realized what she was looking at.
For all his recklessness in battle, Sevro went strangely still in moments like this. As if tenderness confused him more than violence ever could.
“You should probably rest,” Y/N whispered, though she still made no move to leave.
“Probably.”
His eyes searched her face carefully, like he still couldn’t quite believe she was real. Like maybe he thought if he blinked too hard she’d disappear.
“You’ve been crying,” he said quietly.
She stiffened immediately.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have,” his thumb brushed faintly against her wrist again, “Your eyes are all red and angry.”
“I’m a doctor. I was stressed,” she argued rationally, as though that somehow strengthened her case.
“You cried because you like me,” Sevro countered immediately, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone currently held together by stitches.
“I cried because you lost half your blood volume,” she shot back, refusing to give him an inch.
“Romantic,” he deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes softly at that, but her chest hurt with affection so intense it frightened her a little.
He watched her for another long second before his expression shifted again, becoming smaller and somehow vulnerable.
“You really stayed?” he asked quietly.
The question hit harder than anything else had, because underneath it sat something ugly and old and wounded.
Her heart nearly broke open.
“Of course I stayed,” she answered without hesitation.
Sevro swallowed once, his throat moving beneath bruised skin.
“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” he muttered, staring somewhere near her shoulder instead of directly at her.
“Why?” she asked softly.
“Because I’ll believe you,” he admitted.
The honesty of it stole the air from her lungs.
Slowly, carefully, she lifted her other hand to his face again, her fingers brushing through the mess of golden hair near his temple.
Sevro closed his eyes instantly.
Not dramatically.
Instinctively.
Like no one touched him softly often enough.
“You absolute idiot,” she whispered, her thumb grazing his cheek.
“Your idiot though,” he replied automatically.
The words were meant as a joke.
Deflection.
But neither of them laughed.
Suddenly the space between them felt impossibly small.
Sevro opened his eyes again slowly, and the look in them this time felt raw, hungry and terrified all at once.
Like he wanted this so badly it made him angry.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he warned softly, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth, “and I’m gonna do something medically irresponsible.”
Despite everything, she smiled.
“You can barely sit upright,” she pointed out.
“Details,” he dismissed.
Her hand slid carefully along his jaw, mindful of bruises.
Sevro leaned into the touch before he could stop himself.
The tiny unconscious movement shattered the last of her restraint completely.
She kissed him.
Softly at first, tentative.
A question more than anything.
For one heartbeat Sevro froze entirely beneath her.
Then he made a rough sound low in his throat and kissed her back like he was a man starving.
His hand came up abruptly to the back of her neck despite the pain it clearly caused him, attempting to sit up as he pulled her closer with surprising desperation for someone half-dead two days ago.
The kiss turned messy immediately.
Not polished and definitely not graceful.
Just pure Sevro.
Too much feeling crammed into one moment all at once.
She could taste the faint copper of blood where his lip had split. His breathing hitched sharply every time she touched him. Like he genuinely could not process this was happening.
When she finally pulled back slightly for air, his forehead dropped heavily against hers again.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, sounding genuinely stunned.
A helpless laugh escaped her as she sniffled, keeping her eyes closed for the briefest of moments, committing this feeling to memory.
Sevro stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly looked deeply offended. “You waited until I looked like fried death to kiss me?”
“You tried to remove your IV five minutes ago,” she reminded him with raised brows.
Sevro shrugged boyishly, “Confidence is attractive.”
“You are on three painkillers.”
“And still incredibly handsome,” he informed her gravely.
She laughed again, quieter this time.
Gods, she loved him.
The bravado had cracked.
“What?” he asked carefully, immediately noticing the shift in her expression.
She shook her head slightly as she hesitated for a moment before cupping his face gently again, “You scared me.”
Something vulnerable flickered across his face.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Sorry.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Not sorry. Just... don't do that again.”
Sevro snorted weakly, “Doc, my entire lifestyle is ‘that again.’”
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” he replied.
He studied her for another long second before adding more softly, “I tried.”
She frowned slightly, “What do you mean?”
“When it got bad down there,” he explained, his gaze dropping briefly to the blanket across his lap, “I actually tried to stay alive.”
Emotion closed painfully around her throat again.
Because she understood exactly what he meant.
Not fighting because it was instinct.
Not surviving out of spite.
Trying, for her.
Sevro reached out, his fingers brushing shakily against her cheek.
“Gory hell,” he muttered, almost to himself as he looked at her. “You really got me, didn’t you?”
She smiled faintly through burning eyes, “Looks that way.”
He stared at her one more second.
Then kissed her again first this time.
Slow.
Certain.
Like despite everything terrible in the universe, this one thing was real.
The name of her father always followed her wherever she went.
Being the daughter of 'Bad Sam' Chapman came with a reputation she could never escape, even as she tried to forge her own path within the service. It was no different when she found herself assigned to Slough House, the very place that served as a dumping ground for dead-end spies. Among the washed-up agents and misfits, Tilley Chapman felt like she had something to prove, not just to the service but to herself.
It's when she meets River Cartwright, another cast-off with his own set of frustrations, that Tilley tries not to let her guard down.
At first, they clash—both too proud and too stubborn to admit their faults.
Tilley starts to see that River's cynicism masks a deep sense of duty, and River begins to understand that Tilley's not just another burned-out spy—she's someone with the potential to surprise everyone, even herself.
They soon come to realise that maybe they have more in common than they once thought.
COMING SOON ✔︎
✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧
A starlet; bookworm poetry & film enthusiast
"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘧...
Cursed to a life of darkness, Charlotte Gray's sight was stolen from her by the very hands of a man who was meant to protect her. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time, an innocent glimpse into the arcane mysteries of her father's world had sealed her fate, condemning her to a life without light.
Being drawn together by the threads of fate, Charlotte and Theseus forge an unexpected bond, their paths intertwining in ways neither of them could have foreseen.
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Y/N is leaving work from Slough House rather late one evening and passes River's office to find him still sitting at his desk. She persuades him to not be so uptight & to come have a drink with her at the pub. She learns a bit more about him that night - including the fact that River Cartwright is a massive lightweight.
𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨: she/her pronouns used, some dialogue in this fic is from slow horses season one, mentions of sexualization/slut shaming, fluff, river being a precious baby. in a world of boys, river cartwright is a gentleman.
𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: this is a work of fiction; any names, characters from slow horses, places & incidents will either be a product of my imagination or used fictionally (5.8k words)
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
Y/N sighed heavily as she finally managed to shut her computer down for the day, feeling the strain in her shoulders. She rubbed her temples, squinting tiredly as she began gathering all of her belongings together. She had opted in staying back a couple of hours to complete some paperwork, wanting to ensure that Catherine wouldn't be burdened with it in the morning. She switched off the lamp on her desk before making her way out of the office she shared with Louisa.
On her way out of the building, a faint glow caught her attention, causing her to stop in her tracks. Intrigued, she followed the light down the hallway that led to River and Sid's shared office.
She had initially assumed that she was the last one in the building, yet she was proven wrong when she peeked through the glass window and spotted River sat at his desk, bathed in the soft glow of his computer screen.
He leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and a discernible frown etched on his face as he remained absorbed in whatever was on his computer. The black earphones that were placed in his ears suggested to her that he was engrossed in watching something.
His tousled blonde hair fell over his forehead, and in the faint lighting, his normally bright blue eyes appeared darker and wearier than usual. Y/N couldn't help but notice the fatigue evident in his slow blinks as his attention remained fixed on the glowing screen in front of him.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she moved towards the door. Leaning against the frame, she took a moment to watch him, wondering if he would notice her presence eventually. Unsurprisingly, he remained completely oblivious, engrossed in whatever he was watching.
Biting her lip, Y/N’s eyes quickly scanned around the room before grabbing a book from a nearby shelf. With another quick glance at him and a mischievous smile, she slammed the book down on the table near the door, creating a harsh noise that cut through the silence.
The abrupt sound drew River's attention like a magnet, his eyes snapping up from the computer screen. Despite the initial harshness, his gaze softened slightly once he spotted her in standing in the doorway.
“Fuck,” He sighed, reaching up to take his earphones out.
Y/N tried to suppress a giggle as she held her hands up in defence.
"Sorry," She apologised, taking in his slightly dishevelled state. "What are you still doing here?"
He met her gaze, taking in a deep breath in. "Just... sorting through some stuff."
“Such as?” She questioned, crossing her arms and giving him a skeptical look.
"None of your business," He shot back, a hint of sarcasm underlying in his voice.
She rolled her eyes at him before pushing herself off the door frame, sauntering over to where he sat at his desk. River rubbed his hands over his face, attempting to massage away the aches as he sensed her starting to make her way over to him.
“Seriously though, it’s 8:00pm,” She remarked, scrunching her eyebrows as she stood next to him. She leant back against his desk as she faced him. “I thought Lamb was the only one who practically lives here. Don’t you have a home to go to?”
He let out a small, sarcastic and dry laugh, leaning back in his chair to face her. “Says the one who is literally sitting on my desk. You should ask yourself the same thing.”
“God, you’re hard work,” She sighed, throwing her head back in annoyance.
“All right,” He sighed, shooting her a look that she couldn't quite place. “What’s your excuse for being here after hours, then?”
She crossed her arms as she spoke, “I finished up some extra paperwork from today so Catherine wouldn’t be swamped with it in the morning.”
“Wow,” River drawled out, fiddling with his earphones, “What do you want? A medal? Pat on the back?”
She groaned at his teasing. “You know what? I would settle for anything other than that contemptuous look you always have on your face.”
His face scrunched up as he squinted at her. “That’s a big word, Y/N. You sure you know what that means?”
She shook her head at him, sighing in defeat after attempting to lighten his mood.
“God, lighten up, Cartwright,” She quipped, reaching out to playfully tap her hand against his leg, “This whole 'I hate the world' attitude you’ve got going on is really starting to piss me off.”
“Well, any time you wanna leave, feel very free,” He joked, gesturing towards the door while still holding a straight face. “You know the way out.”
She shot him a pointed look, shaking her head as he raised his eyebrows at her.
“What? You planning on staying here all night?” He asked, challenging her.
“Nope, I give up,” She scoffed while standing up properly and began making her way towards the door. “I might go for a drink somewhere.”
River swivelled on his office chair, raising his eyebrows slightly as he nodded.
“Thanks for the invite,” He muttered, a hint of disappointed in his tone.
She rolled her eyes at him as she turned back on her heels to glance at him, “This is me inviting you, idiot.”
His eyes shot up at her words, making him tilt his head in surprise. He tried to act like he wasn’t flattered by the request and maintained a carefree expression in hopes she wouldn’t notice.
“You know what? I think I would rather sit here in the dark all night, thanks all the same,” He countered, pulling himself closer to the desk and picking up his earphones.
“River Cartwright, ladies and gentlemen,” Y/N mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. “Hard working MI5 agent but always the prude.”
He crossed his arms at her and raised his eyebrows, “A prude? I am not.”
“Oh, you’re not?” She questioned, walking back up to his desk and leaning over it from the front, maintaining eye contact with him. Her eyes took him in as she tapped her fingers on the desk. “Then prove it.”
He held eye contact with her as he inhaled deeply, trying to refrain from letting his gaze wander up her body.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
The two of them left Slough House, making their way a few minutes down the road to her favourite pub. She crossed her arms over her chest as River walked alongside her with his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his corduroy jacket.
As she walked beside him, she glanced up at River as he managed to catch her eye.
"What?" He inquired, his face deadpan.
She shook her head as a small smile slowly creeped onto her lips. "Didn't think you would actually come."
"Yeah, well," He was quick to respond, "Maybe that’s because I'm not actually a prude."
She shrugged playfully, "Could have fooled me."
"You're unbelievable," He groaned, looking down at the cobblestone path beneath their feet as he shook his head.
“You love it when I’m hard on you,” A chuckle escaped her as she bumped her arm against his. She briskly rubbed her hands together, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that lingered the air around them.
After strolling for a few more minutes, they finally reached the pub, the welcoming glow drawing them in. River stepped in front of her, gracefully swinging the door open and gesturing for her to step inside before him.
"Thank you," She breathed out, revelling in the comforting warmth that enveloped her as they entered, the gentle sound of conversation buzzing around them.
River took in the ambiance of the place to where she had brought him and sidled up beside her as they approached the bar. She watched as he glanced over her shoulder and leaned down slightly so she could hear him over the chatter, “What would you like?"
She was caught off guard and opened her mouth in surprise. "Oh, you're buying me a drink?"
He nonchalantly nodded, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "Yeah. What, would you rather I didn't?"
She chuckled, "Hey, no complaints here. I'll have a beer, please."
River shot her a playful glance, eyebrows raised as he tapped his fingers on the marble counter. "Wow, you're cheap."
Feigning offense, she gasped and playfully slapped his arm while shooting him a pointed look. He scoffed, rubbing his bicep for a moment as he glanced around. "Want to find a table? I'll bring the drinks over."
"Alright," She nodded, gracefully moving away as her eyes scanned the pub.
She soon spotted a snug corner table nestled towards the back of the pub and made her way over there. Taking a seat, she placed her bag beside her on the floor. As she settled into the chair, she let out a content sigh, not being able to resist stealing a glance over at River, who still lingered at the bar.
A subtle smile played on her lips as she watched him. His tall figure leaned casually against the bar, and she couldn't deny the particular kind of allure about his presence. Unbeknownst to River, his attractive good looks were well-known among those in the service. Despite his inclination to act as if the world were perpetually against him, she couldn't help but acknowledge the undeniable charm he possessed.
She reached for the hair tie around her wrist, skilfully securing her hair into a casual half-up, half-down style just as River approached the table with their drinks. Glancing up at him, she found him holding a beer in one hand and a whiskey in the other.
"Of course, you’re a whiskey drinker, how original," Y/N teased, her eyes bright with amusement as he set the glasses down on the table.
River let out a sigh, "You’ve always got something to say, don't you? Give me a break."
She chuckled and thanked him as he placed down her drink. However, as he set it on the table, she couldn't help but notice his hand – red and showing signs of a recent burn. Her eyes widened, a tinge of concern in her voice as she looked up at him, "What happened to your hand?"
He closed his eyes momentarily, a slight groan escaping his lips. He had attempted to keep his injured hand discreetly tucked away in his pocket, but it seemed he was now unable to let it escape her notice.
"Nothing, just," He began, then stalled for a second as he settled into the chair across from her, scrambling for a quick excuse, "Burned it on a grill."
Her head tilted inquisitively, and she shot him a pointed look, "Yeah right. So, are you going to tell me what actually happened?"
He let out a heavy sigh, his long fingers wrapped around his glass, deliberately avoiding eye contact. He could feel her gaze burning through him, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
After a brief moment of silence, he noticed her extend her hand, a silent request for him to reveal his injured hand that he was still trying to hide. He met her expectant gaze with a sigh and a sense of defeat as he reluctantly extended his hand towards her. With a gentle motion, she cradled his hand in both of hers, taking notice of the subtle tremor that seemed to steady in her grasp. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself softly at the size difference between her delicate hands and his own.
As she studied his hand with a caution, he found himself completely captivated by her focused attention. Strands of her hair fell over her face, framing a look of concentration. His eyes remained fixed on her while she examined his hand.
"Did it hurt?" She asked, her tone careful.
He felt her fingers tracing patterns on the skin of his palm, causing him to lose his train of thought for a second.
"No. Well, yeah, a bit," He admitted, with a sheepish glance.
She nodded, letting go of his hand to reach for her drink. "Yeah, I guess opening a flash box without the code will do that."
A quizzical look crossed his face as he glanced at her. "I never told you that."
"You didn't have to," She responded, taking a sip of her beer.
River scoffed softly, shaking his head. It seemed as though she had him all figured out.
"Why would you even do that? You are many things, but I didn't think you were stupid," She teased, arching her eyebrows as he met her gaze again.
"It's nothing to worry about," He dismissed, waving her off as he took another sip of his whiskey.
Y/N observed him for a moment, her gaze following the amber liquid as it passed his lips.
"What was in the box?" She couldn't resist asking.
River sighed, briefly glancing behind her before answering, "A laptop. With files taken from Robert Hobden."
She nodded knowingly, "Do The Park know that you opened a flash box?"
"No," He briskly shook his head, "And they aren't going to find out, are they?"
She shook her head in response, a silent confirmation of her discretion. He appreciated the unspoken trust they seemed to share between them.
"Was it worth opening a flash box over?" She teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
"Stop interrogating me, okay? Can we just not talk about it right now?" River redirected, tapping his glass with his pointer finger. "I thought you dragged me here to get away from work."
"I didn't drag you here," She chuckled. "And if you feel trapped here, you know the way out," a hint of jest in her voice as she playfully repeated his words from Slough House earlier.
He huffed at her, "Touché."
"I'll drop it," Y/N promised, lifting her glass again. "But you know I'll grill you about it later."
He nodded, letting out a scoff at the pun she managed to slip in. "Oh, I know you will."
They settled into a comfortable silence for a minute, during which River studied her again. Sensing his gaze, she looked across at him quizzically before asking, "What?"
Biting his lip, he contemplated the question that nagged at him in the back of his mind. Deciding to bite the bullet, he took a short breath in, leaning against the table on his elbows as he crossed his arms. "Why are you here, Y/N?"
She shot him a confused look, "Uhm-"
"Not at the pub," He corrected himself in a teasing manner, "At Slough House."
She sighed, "I thought Slough House was like prison. You're not supposed to ask what you're in for."
He sensed her attempt to sidestep the question, but it didn't seem to stop him. His curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t deny the subtle soft spot he harboured for her, something in which he often struggled to hide.
"Well, you know why I'm there," River stated.
"Yeah, but everyone knows why you're there," Y/N countered with a smile.
She laughed as he rolled his eyes, "I was gonna give you a compliment, but you can shove it now," He said, looking unamused.
"Suit yourself," She smiled, finding amusement in how easily she could tease him, "I get enough flattery from everyone else."
"But that's what I mean," River said softly, "Everyone can see that you're different. Because you are."
She glanced up at him, a gentle smile gracing her lips before she looked down again, avoiding his intense gaze.
"I mean," He continued, breaking the intensity of his gaze, "Min, Struan, Roddy—maybe not Louisa, but definitely Moody. They were always headed for the skids. They're useless. But you're…"
She looked up at him again as his words trailed off, and they shared a momentary glance, one with an unspoken meaning as River continued to speak.
"You know," He breathed, shaking his head slightly, "It just doesn't make sense. But whatever the reason for being put in Slough House, it must have come out of nowhere, right?"
She chuckled softly, taking a swig of her drink, "Always the MI5 agent, hey?"
"Sorry," He apologized, backtracking, "I'm just letting my thoughts do the talking. You don't have to tell me. It's your business."
"No, it's okay," Y/N smiled, but he watched it quickly fade as her mind ticked over. "Yeah, it did come out of nowhere."
She took a deep breath before continuing, "I was put in Slough House because of a rumour about me, that wasn't even true, got spread around at The Park."
"What kind of rumour?" River asked, dumbfounded.
"Wow," She expressed surprise, "I'm surprised you haven't heard about it already."
He gestured for her to continue, giving her his full attention.
"Someone came onto me, rather forcefully, one day at the office. And because I turned him down, it hurt his feelings. He couldn't accept it, so the next day, he went around to all of his mates at the office, telling them that I was a slut and that I basically begged him for it. His mates then proceeded to tell everyone at Regents Park, which marked me down massively. No one would even look at me after that. And because everyone took his word as gospel, I was shipped out to Slough House," Y/N explained, her emotions surfacing as she spoke the truth she had tried to bottle up for so long.
River was shocked to his core. The revelation left him not only astonished but also infuriated at how someone could do that to someone as honest and kind-hearted as her.
"I’m so sorry," He consoled.
She shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to downplay the impact, but he could sense that it bothered her deeply. Understandably so.
"I heard you worked at The Park," He said, before pressing further, "Was it anyone I know?"
Y/N stayed silent for a moment before nodding, releasing a sigh, "It was Webb."
River raised his eyebrows before scrunching them together in a frown, "Spider?!"
"Yep," She replied curtly, downing the rest of her drink.
He scoffed in disbelief, finding yet another reason to dislike James Webb. "What a dickhead. How is it that he is able to get away with something like that? It's bullshit."
She nodded, "Yeah, it was shitty. But I got my revenge on him."
He shot her a pointed look, "What do you mean?"
"I'm not usually the petty type..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at the table.
"Oh, come on," River encouraged her, "What did you do?"
Biting her lip, she tried to hide her smile, "On my last day at The Park, I broke into his office while he was at a meeting and went through his computer. I wasn't even looking for anything in particular. But then I found some rather revealing pictures he had of himself. So, being as pissed off as I was at the time, I sent them as an email to everyone in the building. I did it in a way that no one could trace it back to me."
River couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter, hastily covering his mouth as he began to worry he was making too much noise.
"That is priceless," He chuckled, "Who is dumb enough to even have photos like that when working in the service? Let alone on your work computer."
"Clearly Spider," She grinned, propping her chin onto her palm.
River's laughter eventually subsided, but his smile remained, "So he never found out?"
She shook her head, "Nope. But I'm sure he won't forget it anytime soon."
"I saw him today while dropping something off at The Park," He said, thinking out loud, "I should have knocked his lights out."
He glanced at her, shooting her a sympathetic but genuine smile.
His chair scraped across the wooden floor as he stood up to go and get another drink, "You're one of the good ones, Y/N L/N," River smiled, tapping her shoulder as he walked past her and made his way over to the bar.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
A couple of hours had drifted by since Y/N and River had first stepped into the pub. Conversation flowed between them quite effortlessly as they both enjoyed the opportunity to unwind outside the confines of Slough House. Y/N decided to grab another drink after her first initial one, opting to nurse the second glass River had kindly bought for her. She observed him from across the table as he indulged in several glasses of whiskey.
She furrowed her brows, finding it quite amusing to witness his demeanour shift from serious to carefree within the span of just a couple of hours.
"You gonna finish that?" River mumbled, eyeing her half-empty glass. Without waiting for her response, he quickly snatched her glass from the table and downed the remaining liquid in one gulp.
She watched him with wide eyes, shaking her head at his audacity. Leaning forward on her elbows, she tapped her finger against the silver watch on his wrist that caught the light, quickly managing to glance at the time herself. "It's late!"
"What? Tired, are you?" River asked, tilting his head at her.
"You should be," She retorted, "It's a school night."
He groaned at her words, screwing his eyes shut at the thought of having to get up for work tomorrow morning while nursing a potential hangover.
She leaned over the table, concern etched on her face. "I think you've had enough, River."
His head suddenly shot up at the use of his name. He narrowed his gaze towards her cheekily before also leaning over the table, mirroring her actions. His eyes very obviously trailed over every inch of her face as he studied her features.
"You never call me River," He whispered, his voice low, unaware of the subtle hitch in her breath caused by the close proximity of their faces.
She shook her head, her reply soft, "I never call anyone River."
"Yeah well," He cleared his throat, "You can thank my mother; it was her hippie phase."
Y/N couldn't help but chuckle as an unfamiliar feeling of warmth washed over her. It felt strange to her to witness River in such a drunken state, considering his usual serious demeanour that he held. She took in the blue of his eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his hair fell over his forehead—absorbing every detail possible.
He glanced around, taking notice of the nearly empty bar they still sat in before mumbling, "I reckon we should go."
"Good call," She agreed, standing up and pulling her coat back on.
As she grabbed her bag, she watched River skeptically as he slowly rose to his feet. He tapped his jacket a few times, feeling to make sure he still had his keys and his wallet.
The two quietly made their way out of the pub, the cool night air hitting them instantly as they stepped out onto the quiet streets of London. Y/N stood beside River, casting a sidelong glance at him, unable to shake the amusement present from her expression.
"So, reckon you’ll be fine to get home?" She teased him.
He glanced down at her from his tall height as he towered over her, nodding as he swayed on his feet slightly. "Yeah."
"Okay," She smiled up at him, "Thanks for tonight, I'll see you tom-"
But he was quick to cut her off, "Walk with me?"
"Huh?" She questioned him, pulling on her coat tighter around her frame as she craned her neck to look up at him.
River chuckled slightly as he casually shrugged his shoulders. "I wanna keep talking to you, so will you walk home with me?"
Y/N narrowed her gaze at him, reminding herself of the fact that he had managed to drink a whole lot more than her tonight. Without stopping to give it much thought, she found herself nodding and shot him a smile. "Alright, fine."
While they started walking together, side by side, down the street, River stumbled a bit, causing Y/N to reach out and grab his arm in order to steady him. "Easy there, Cartwright. Don't want you face-planting on the pavement."
"I've got it under control," River assured her, though the grin on his face betrayed a different story.
As they continued walking, she could feel him subtly starting to lean against her small frame slightly. His head was spinning, and to him it felt like he was floating due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed. She stole another glance at him, observing the longer strides he took compared to what he usually would. There was a peculiar bounce in his step, and the usual frown that often adorned his face was long gone which amused her with every passing minute.
"How is it that I'm smaller than you but can hold my alcohol better than you can?" Y/N teased him, leaning against him slightly as the wind crept past them.
"Shut up," He breathed, while shaking his head and licking his lips.
Before long, they arrived at a set of apartments. She stopped in her tracks, watching as River walked ahead of her, towards a flight of stairs. It was only a couple of seconds before he noticed she was no longer following him. He turned around slowly, gesturing towards her with a confused look on his face.
"You coming?" River asked, tucking his hands further into the pockets of his jacket.
She curled her lips into her teeth, contemplating for a moment before she gave in, starting to follow him up the stairs which led to his apartment. He had slowed his pace down on the steps in front of her as he waited for her to catch up with him.
Once he had felt her place her hands onto his back, he sensed the warmth through the material of his jacket. She carefully guided him up the stairs, her presence a reassuring anchor until he stopped in front of his apartment door. He reached for his keys and fumbled with them, struggling to keep his eyes focused.
Y/N eyed him warily, observing the effects the alcohol had on his coordination. "Hey," She stepped closer to him, and spoke softly, "Give me those."
He chuckled, giving up almost instantly and passed her his keys. They stood close together, their fingers brushing against each other as she grabbed the keys from his hand.
"Which one is it?" She asked, glancing up at him with expectant eyes.
River leaned his head against the brick wall in front of him, turning slightly to look down at his keys before pointing to the right one. "That one."
She chuckled at him, biting her lip in concentration as she unlocked his front door. She could feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of her head, yet she tried to ignore it. As the door creaked open, she held it open for him, maintaining a watchful eye as he stumbled through his entryway.
His studio apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow revealing the lived-in but tidy space he occupied.
"Alright, Cartwright," She teased, handing him back his keys. "Get some rest and maybe lay off the whiskey next time."
River chuckled, giving her a nod of agreement. "Thanks, Y/N. And thanks for walking with me."
Y/N smiled with a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Well, you did buy me a drink. Consider it payback."
He stared down at her intently as he came to stand in front of her. He drew in a few deep breaths, the sound filling the silence that enveloped his apartment. River narrowed his eyes gently at her as a sheepish grin tugged it way onto his lips.
“What are you looking at?” She asked him, feeling a warmth beginning to appear across her cheeks.
With a nonchalant shrug, he maintained his silence as he simply shrugged his shoulders in response.
Y/N knew she should take her leave, but there was something about him that made her want to stay. He didn’t seem to mind as he tripped over the mat, and he kicked his shoes off. He managed to shrug off his jacket as he made his way over to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Deciding to stay, she placed her bag beside the lounge as she let her eyes wander around curiously, absorbing the surprisingly cozy charm of his apartment. The warmth enveloped her, leaving her torn between the sensible impulse to leave and the pull she was feeling that made her want to stay a little while longer.
River emerged from the bathroom, keeping quiet as he sauntered his way to his bed. As he settled down onto the edge of the mattress, he couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh, a release of tension he seemed unaware of carrying. Y/N approached him slowly, as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat, her gaze fixed on him.
“You alright?” She asked him, taking notice of the slump of his shoulders and the frown on his face that had managed to return.
There was a brief silence that lingered before she pressed on, concern evident in her voice, “What’s up? Hmm?”
She swore she could hear him sniffle slightly and watched as River reached up to run his hands over his face. He soon lifted his head to meet her gaze, shaking his head, a look of weariness etched across his features.
“I just…” He sighed, deliberately trying to hold back, leaving an unspoken weight lingering in the air.
Y/N found herself witnessing a side of him she never would have anticipated – vulnerable, burdened by the weight of emotions he desperately tried to hide. . Without hesitation, she extended a comforting hand, placing it gently on his shoulder. "You can talk to me, you know?" She reassured, offering him with a supportive presence.
River sighed, his gaze remaining heavy and fixed on the floor. "I just want to be actually useful, Y/N. Do something, I mean – I could not be more bored if I tried, and I have actually tried. It feels like I’m drowning there in Slough House."
She listened attentively, allowing him the space to voice the thoughts he'd been holding back. It was clear to Y/N in that moment that opening up like this wasn't something he was accustomed to. He had a perpetual need to prove himself, a persistent desperation that echoed in his words. The weight of expectations seemed to be wearing him down, and the vulnerability he displayed was both unfamiliar and exhausting for someone who typically guarded his thoughts so closely.
“I just feel like a failure, and it’s all my fault,” River murmured, completely defeated, his frustration evident as he began to rub at his eyes with his knuckles.
A brief silence hung in the air before Y/N gently placed both of her hands on his shoulders. "River," She whispered into the quiet, watching as he glanced up at her from where he sat in front of her.
She offered a soft smile once their eyes met. "When was the last time you had a hug?"
He looked away for a moment, genuinely trying to recall the last time he embraced someone. What shocked him was the realization that he genuinely couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged.
“I don’t know,” He mumbled, shaking his head.
Y/N frowned, taking a tentative step closer, as if testing the waters. “Can I hug you?” She whispered.
River nodded, with the word "Please" escaping his lips, quiet and hushed.
Without any hesitation, Y/N stepped forward, closing the gap between them and positioning herself between his legs. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulled him into a comforting embrace. At first River was initially unsure, but gradually surrendered to the solace of the moment, reciprocating by enveloping her in his arms. His head found a resting place against her stomach, and a contented exhale escaped him as he felt her nails tracing patterns on his back through the fabric of his shirt.
Her perfume acted as a subtle anchor, which grounded him, preventing him from falling apart completely. They lingered in their embrace, the gentle swaying of their bodies providing a soothing rhythm.
“Hey,” She whispered, her hands tracing up the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her, “You’re not a failure, I promise.”
River, too tired and fatigued to muster any words, flashed her a lazy smile as his eyes started to grow heavy. Resting his chin against her stomach, he glanced up at her. The effort to stay awake was a struggle for him, and her thumbs, rubbing soothing circles into his cheeks, only added to the struggle he faced.
“I think I need to sleep,” He mumbled, burying his face against the fabric of her shirt again, savouring the warmth of the hug for a few more precious seconds.
Reluctantly, he pulled away and settled back against the mattress. Y/N observed him, grateful that he was home safely.
"You need anything before I leave?" Y/N offered, lingering near the end of the bed, her gaze briefly caught by the city lights beyond his window.
One of his eyes opened, heavy with drowsiness, as he glanced at her from where he laid. It didn’t take long before he spoke up.
“Stay for a bit?” He asked, his voice sounding small and muffled against the pillows.
Without hesitation, she nodded towards him, slipping off her shoes and coat. Her body dipped against the mattress as she crawled up to the top, leaning against the headboard of his bed. To her surprise, she felt River shift closer, lifting his head to glance at her for a moment.
“Is this okay?” He asked, a vulnerable note in his voice that made her heart surge.
She nodded, motioning for him to come closer. River slumped down beside her, allowing her to hold him. Grabbing a blanket from the end of his bed, she draped it over the top of them. With an arm wrapped gently around his shoulders, she began playing with his soft, blonde hair.
“That feels good,” He hummed in content, draping an arm across her torso. The sensation of being held felt overwhelming to him, but in all the right ways.
As River slowly drifted into a peaceful slumber, Y/N felt his body starting to become heavier against her. In the quiet of his room, the city lights outside casting a gentle glow across his apartment, she continued to hold him, providing the comfort he needed in that vulnerable moment.
Just wanted to thank you for the River fics, really enjoying them a lot!! 💖💖💖 Really looking forward to the rest of Truths Out In Upshott! Have a great day 💕
This is has made my day, thank you so much! Have got so many ideas for our boy & can’t wait to share them with you! 🫶🏼
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: They despised one another & barely tolerated each other while working at Slough House. Tensions rise as they are sent out into the field together, working undercover to search for a sleeper agent in the cozy village of Upshott. To avoid being caught, they are forced to pretend that they are "together". Being so close in each others company causes certain feelings rise to the surface that they have both tried to bury for far too long.
𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨: she/her pronouns used. this story is based on the episode - from upshott with love, but I have changed the storyline line slightly, so it might not be the exact same as the show.
𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: this is a work of fiction; any names, characters from slow horses, places & incidents will either be a product of my imagination or used fictionally. got a bit carried away so this will now be a three part series.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
Y/N woke up the next morning to the warm, gentle feeling of the sun casting across her face. She let herself bask in the comfortable sensation, relishing the peaceful moment before allowing her eyes to flutter open. As she squinted, she suddenly became aware of her new position as her eyes tried to adjust to the light.
She figured that sometime during the night, she must have turned over because she was now on her side, facing River. Without realising, they both must have unconsciously drawn closer, as their foreheads were now almost touching. She simply couldn’t stop herself as her gaze traced along his face, taking in all of his features. River was also on his side, his eyes closed and his long lashes brushing against the apples of his cheeks.
His floppy blonde hair caught the light as it rested over his forehead, creating a golden glow.
Y/N’s fingers itched to reach out and brush the hair out of his face, but she managed to suppress the sudden impulse. Her attention shifted to his broad shoulders, which were rising and falling with each slow and deep breath he took. As she glanced down, she noticed his hand, still outstretched from the night before, now resting against the mattress in between them, a sign that he had been tracing patterns on the skin of her back until he fell back to sleep.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying her hardest to imprint the memory and the feeling of his fingers tracing gentle patterns onto her skin. The sensation felt unfamiliar, and the realization that she hadn't thought of River in this way before lingered in her mind. Something was undeniably beginning to shift between the two of them.
Her gaze continued to explore every detail of his face as she felt a sudden unease settling in her stomach. Perhaps it was vulnerability, yet she brushed the feeling aside, not being able to confront it just yet.
Only a few minutes passed before River began to stir. With soft eyes, she allowed herself to watch him wake up. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the sunlight that filled the room. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he lifted his head, momentarily surveying the unfamiliar surroundings. However, that expression quickly faded as he soon remembered where he was.
He sighed, letting his head to sink back against the pillow. His eyes closed briefly before reopening them to find the girl across from him already watching him. Something in her expression caught him off guard, a nuance about her that he couldn’t quite place. It was a pleasant change from the usual array of looks she would normally give him — a gentleness and softness that felt new.
Amongst the comfortable silence, they held each other’s gaze for a minute. She watched a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth before he cleared his throat.
“Morning,” River murmured, folding his arms to rest under his pillow.
Y/N chose to ignore the flutter in her chest stirred by the sound of his raspy morning voice, returning his smile and pulling the covers tighter around herself.
“Hey,” She replied, her voice hushed.
He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to get rid of any lingering traces of sleep, “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged, taking a moment to actually assess her state. Despite the usual lingering fatigue, she couldn’t deny that she felt a bit more rested than usual.
“Good, yeah,” She replied, starting to feel more awake with each passing moment. “Actually got a pretty decent sleep.”
River chuckled lightly, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t actually thanking you for anything,” She chuckled, extending her hand from under the covers to playfully shove his arm.
He scoffed in response, his gaze drifting down to her hand. The ring she was wearing caught the light of the sun that shone into the room from behind the curtains. He took notice of the ring and the fact that she had kept it on. Following his gaze, she noticed it too. Trying to ignore the blush starting to creep up her cheeks, she quickly retracted her hand and pulled it back underneath the covers.
River suddenly became acutely aware of their close proximity as he felt his heart starting to pound against the inside of his chest. Squinting for a moment, he studied her, and a silence enveloped them once again.
He tried to keep his gaze from wandering, yet he found his eyes tracing down her face. Up into her eyes before momentarily lingering on her plump lips, the air around them thickened. Just as he could sense the slight tension, he rolled over onto his back, breaking eye contact and creating a bit of space between them.
Feeling a sudden wave of self-awareness, Y/N shook off the moment and reminded herself of their purpose here. She sat up, stretching her arms out in front of her. Instead of reaching for her phone, she stole a glance at River from over her shoulder.
“What time is it?” She asked, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stifle a yawn.
Holding his wrist up in front of his face, he furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced at his watch. “Just gone half-seven.”
Y/N sighed. “We'd better get a move on.”
He nodded in agreement, observing her closely as she threw the covers off her body and stood up from the bed, her fingers nimbly pulling on the hair tie from around her wrist. As she raised her arms to tie her hair back, he found his eyes involuntarily tracing over every part of her body—from her legs to her hips, her waist, and all the way up to her neck. She bent over her bag, picking out suitable clothes for the day, and he absorbed every inch of her, suddenly aware of all the perfect curves that had eluded his notice before. Taking a deep breath, he suddenly felt his own clothes starting to feel unexpectedly restrictive.
“I’m taking the first shower, is that cool?” Y/N asked, rising to her feet and gesturing toward the bathroom.
River quickly shifted his gaze to her face, concerned that she might have caught him staring. However, she seemed oblivious, looking at him expectantly and waiting for his response.
He nodded hastily, stumbling over his words. “Uhm—yeah, yeah. Yep, all good.”
Her gaze narrowed for a split second as she glanced at him before shrugging it off and heading toward the bathroom. As soon as he heard the bathroom door close and the water start to flow for the shower, he threw his head back against the pillow and released a deep breath.
Thoughts of her lingered in his mind, and he let out a frustrated groan, running his hands through his dishevelled hair and tugging slightly at the roots.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
Once they had both readied themselves for the day ahead, the two of them exited their shared room and descended the stairs into the quiet, empty pub below. Y/N slung her camera around her torso on the way downstairs, maintaining the facade of being a photographer.
She followed River towards the front door, he confidently grabbed the handle to try and open the door, only to realize that it was locked.
An almost taunting voice echoed from the bar, breaking the silence.
“There’s no escape!” Kelly called out with a playful grin.
Y/N and River exchanged a knowing glance before deciding to go and investigate. As they approached the bar, just before turning the corner of the wall, River paused to look down at her from his towering height. Raising his eyebrows, he extended his hand out towards her and offered it to her.
She simply blinked, confusion flickered across her face for a moment until realization set in.
Oh, right. She thought, best to keep up appearances.
Y/N reached her hand out, letting him take her hand in his own. There was something about the way his long fingers intertwined with hers that made her stomach flip, a sensation she tried to dismiss. River gave a gentle tug, leading her around the corner to where Kelly stood at the bar.
"Oh, hello," Y/N greeted with a small, friendly smile.
"Hi," Kelly replied, briefly glancing at their entwined hands before directing her attention mainly towards Jonathon.
“So,” River began, closing the distance to the bar as they got closer, “Have you been here all night?”
Kelly chuckled, "No, I come in early to set the bar."
"Ah," He nodded as he settled onto a stool in front of the bar.
Kelly beamed at him, "Make a bit of extra cash. I lock the door to keep the village alcoholics—or should I say, the villagers—from barging in and demanding a breakfast lock-in."
River let out a breathy laugh. "Right. And there you were, telling me that life here is boring."
After sharing a tender look with Y/N, he reached out to pull her in, placing her between his legs. She grinned, playing the part of the adoring fiancée, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders.
“Well, that just does not sound boring,” He continued, his hand tracing a soft path across her waist, gently gripping her hip and rubbing soothing circles.
Y/N chuckled softly, finding it surprisingly effortless to play this role with River, even as she reminded herself that it was all part of an act.
Suppressing a sigh, she noticed Kelly's gaze lingering on him, a bright smile playing on her lips as she asked, “What are you up to today?”
The question was clearly directed at him, but he didn’t seem to take much notice as he stole a glance at Y/N as if he was searching her eyes.
“Uh, I don’t know,” He replied, tightening his arm around her waist. “We thought we might just explore the village, you know, get a feel for the place.”
“Yeah,” Y/N added with a smile, nodding in agreement. “It’s a lovely day; what better way than to spend it together?”
Kelly watched as Jonathon and Harriet exchanged a loving glance, completely oblivious to the fact that it was all an elaborate act.
“Why don’t I come with you? I can show you around,” Kelly suggested, her offer hanging in the air.
River shot a brief look at Y/N, silently seeking her approval. Knowing her reservations about Kelly, especially given her standoffish behaviour, he felt a slight falter in her arms that were still around his shoulders. Rubbing his hand over her hip, he prompted her to respond, and after a momentary pause, she regained her composure.
“Yeah, that would be great, why not?” Y/N replied, her smile seemingly forced.
Kelly reached for her jacket. "I’ve got a spare ten minutes.”
As Kelly turned her back for a moment, he shifted himself to fully face Y/N, trying to gauge her reaction. He noticed that she was keeping her emotions well hidden, offering him a smile as she ran her hands over his back. Despite their faces being in close proximity, they both chose to ignore it as Kelly turned back around.
“And then,” Kelly said, biting her lip in a manner that made Y/N cringe slightly, “Would your expenses stretch to a private aircraft?”
Her unexpected question caught both Y/N and River off guard, prompting River to recall his previous experience at The Flying Club yesterday.
He chuckled, collecting himself, “Uh, yeah, who’s flying?”
“Me,” Kelly declared, starting to walk out of the bar.
Out of sight, Y/N and River exchanged a questioning look. Y/N allowed her arms to fall slightly, both of them lost in thought. Could she have been the one to fly Dickie Bow’s killer to Estonia for a swift getaway? It was a question that needed answers.
Exiting the pub, the two of them followed Kelly, braving the cold air that nipped at their skin as they crossed the road.
“So, Kelly,” Y/N spoke up, attempting to steer the conversation, “How long have you lived here?”
Surprisingly, Kelly responded as she glanced over at Y/N, “All my life. Well, apart from three years at Uni. Then I came back here to consider my next move, which I'm still considering.”
Y/N maintained a practiced smile, effortlessly slipping into character. “And your parents? Did they grow up here too?”
“No,” Kelly replied, sneaking a glance at River before continuing, “They were newcomers. Moved here from London just before I was born.”
Unaware of the not-so-discreet looks directed his way from Kelly, River paid more attention to the passing surroundings, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, absorbing the atmosphere of the village.
She nodded, maintaining the facade. “And why was that then?”
Y/N had a particular tone to her voice that conveyed genuine interest, aiming to sound engaged rather than nosy as she listened attentively to Kelly's story. Meanwhile, she could feel River subtly brush his arm against hers as they walked side by side. At first, Y/N didn't think much of it, remaining focused on what Kelly was saying. However, she soon felt River's fingers gently tapping against the side of her hand. His fingertips then traced small circles on the inside of her palm, a silent request for permission to hold her hand.
Without hesitation, she opened her hand, allowing him to intertwine his fingers with hers. Despite the size difference of their hands, it didn't matter. He swung their linked hands gently as they strolled through the charming village, their connection adding a subtle layer of authenticity to the act they were putting on.
“…..and my Dad got into flying, so his hobby became his job!” Kelly finished, which caught River’s attention.
“Right, so he’s a pilot then?” River questioned.
Kelly chuckled, shaking her head. “No, he owns the flying club.”
Y/N felt River's hand tighten slightly in response to this revelation, she sensed his mind ticking over as he processed the information.
“Oh, right, right,” He nodded, deciding to drop the topic for the meantime.
Over the next 15 minutes or so, Kelly continued to guide them through the quaint little village of Upshott. Y/N started to look around in awe, absorbing the simple yet captivating sights it had to offer. The village may not have had much to boast about, but its charm laid in the beautiful scenery – a combination of greenery and old houses creating a cosy atmosphere.
The day was stunning which only enhanced the village's allure. Y/N paused along the way to capture a few photos with her camera. She couldn’t help but appreciate how handsome River looked as he let go of her hand to peer over the side of the stone bridge they were crossing. The gentle sound of running water echoed from the stream below, and the sunlight caught his hair from where it was trying to break through the green canopy of trees above. Stepping back, Y/N seized the opportunity to take a couple of photos, capturing the picturesque moment unfolding in front of her.
River caught the clicking sound of Y/N's camera and swiftly turned on his heels to glance at her. A frown formed on his face, but a small smile played on his lips as he watched her laugh at his reaction.
Taking a moment to appreciate her, he found her bathed in a gentle glow from the sun, her laughter echoing as she threw her head back, hair flowing freely over her shoulders. In that moment, he couldn't help but smile at her—she was undeniably beautiful.
As they neared the end of the road, Kelly came to a stop in front of them.
"Well, that’s it," She sighed, nodding slightly.
River glanced around, "Oh."
“Fancy an aerial view?” Kelly then asked, directing her gaze at him rather than Y/N.
Despite the subtle pang in Y/N's chest at the way Kelly looked at him, she maintained a smile, watching him expectantly.
“Um, yeah, sounds good,” River drawled out, pushing his hands into his pockets as he looked down at Y/N who stood beside him, feeling a bit caught off guard. "What do you reckon, babe?"
Y/N was taken aback by the sudden pet name but managed to push it down. Fortunately, she wasn't a fan of heights, and honestly, the prospect of watching Kelly attempt to flirt with Jonathon didn't appeal to her either.
Shaking her head, she briefly glanced at Kelly, who returned her gaze with almost a glare. "Oh, I don’t know. I’m not really a fan of heights,” She explained.
“But you should go,” Y/N continued, looking up at River, who was already gazing down at her.
She could almost see the fleeting disappointment on his face. Deep down, he had hoped she would join him. Despite Kelly's advances, both of them understood that it would be best if Jonathon went with her. After overhearing the suspicious conversation between Kelly and what appeared to be her father the night before, River needed to gather as much information as possible, especially considering his chance to visit The Flying Club again.
“You sure?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows slightly.
She nodded and hummed in response, “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, it’ll give me the chance to explore the village a bit more.”
If only Kelly wasn't standing right across from them, they could have exchanged a quick debrief. Instead, River simply smiled down at her.
“Okay,” He nodded, holding her gaze for a couple of seconds as he placed a hand on her hip, wrapping it around her waist. “I’ll see you in an hour or so then.”
“Alright,” She smiled, reaching forward to grasp the ends of his jacket.
Though it felt like an eternity, they only locked eyes for a few seconds before River dipped his head down, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“See you soon,” He said, slowly taking his hand away from her hip.
She could sense Kelly’s stare burning into the side of her head. In a moment of impulse, before she could fully comprehend her actions, Y/N reached up and pressed her lips to his, standing on her tiptoes to reach him.
The unexpected kiss caught River completely off guard, but he skillfully played it off as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Closing his eyes, he reached his hand out, gently resting it back on her waist. He couldn’t deny the unfamiliar enjoyment of her soft lips against his own.
They held the kiss for a few seconds. River almost found himself not wanting to pull away, but he managed to do so, opening his eyes to search hers. Her expectant doe eyes staring back up at him made him feel weak in the knees.
“Have fun,” She smiled, her fingers still tugging on the ends of his jacket.
“Will do,” He breathed out. Unable to resist, he dipped his head down and placed another small, short kiss on her lips. Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he told himself it was for the sake of appearance.
Stepping back, he began to follow Kelly towards her parked car.
Y/N stood to the side, her fingers toying with the strap of her camera. She watched as River glanced over his shoulder at her, flashing a genuine smile. Tilting her head up, she waved, ignoring the blush that crept its way onto her cheeks.
Watching him get into the car, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the heart of the village.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
Y/N refused to admit that jealousy was the source of her agitation every time the thought of River being alone with another woman, particularly someone as overtly obsessed with him as Kelly, crossed her mind. The mere image of Kelly shamelessly flirting with him on the bustling main street of Upshott made her blood boil. Even the idea that they were alone together made it feel worse.
Intellectually, she knew that River prioritized the mission over succumbing to Kelly's relentless advances. However, despite this knowledge, an unsettling feeling still continued to linger. Despite this, she was determined to regain control over her emotions. Y/N decided it was time to refocus on the task at hand. She reminded herself that she was a highly skilled MI5 agent and needed to channel her energy into the task rather than letting thoughts of River invade her mind.
During the afternoon, she managed to discreetly navigate the quiet streets of Upshott, her eyes keenly observing every detail. She took care while strategically snapping photos to document the surroundings. To any passer by, she just looked like an ordinary tourist who travelled down from London. The picturesque facade of the village hid potential secrets, and the mission River and herself had been given was to unveil any Russian sleeper agents hiding in plain sight, cicadas.
As she moved from one shop to another, she felt her thumb unconsciously tracing against the ring River had bought for her to wear on her finger, fighting to shake the unease caused by thoughts of him and Kelly. Determined to put those distractions aside, she moved her focus onto her task once again.
Y/N came to a sudden halt, captivated by the sight of a small pond off to her right. There were a few stone steps that were peaking out from the surface, adding a touch of serenity to the scene. Moved by the picturesque view and the way the light reflected off the water, she instinctively raised her camera, feigning the capture of a shot while also using it to subtly survey her surroundings.
In the midst of her observation, her keen eye caught sight of a petite woman with tousled blonde hair and glasses engaged in a heated exchange with a tall, bald man with a strong and muscular build. She could almost feel the tension as she watched on. Through the lens of her camera, she suddenly felt a jolt of recognition. The man held an uncanny resemblance to Andrei Chernitsky, the individual they had been tracking via CCTV from Oxford Parkway station back at Slough House. The familiarity of his features only intensified her curiosity.
Intrigued by the unfolding drama, Y/N swiftly zoomed in, discreetly trying to capture every detail of the argument that had seemingly spilled over into the peaceful ambiance of the pond.
However, her covert operation took an unexpected turn when the lady abruptly glanced in her direction, making eye contact through the lens. Panic surged through Y/N as she quickly pulled the camera away from her face for a moment. Acting quickly, she subtly adjusted and lifted her camera, pretending to capture different shots, all the while discreetly observing the heated argument between the frazzled blonde and the imposing bald man.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the man beginning to approach her with a determined stride.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Y/N whispered under her breath, pretending to be oblivious of his presence as he approached.
"What do you think you're doing, huh? Filming us?" The man barked, his voice rising.
Maintaining composure, Y/N calmly replied, "No, no. I'm just taking photos of the village. I'm a photojournalist."
"Bullshit! I saw you pointing that thing right at us," He retorted, his tone escalating. Y/N was startled at the sudden intensity, relieved they were alone in this secluded spot so no one else could witness the interaction and arouse suspicion.
Amid his yelling, she couldn't help but notice his pronounced Russian accent, almost confirming her suspicious further that this man was the one they were sent to find. Inhaling deeply, she worked to stay composed, making a mental note to report this back to Lamb as soon as she was given the chance.
"Show me what you've got on that camera!" He pointed a finger in her direction.
Y/N hesitated for a moment, weighing her options. She couldn't blow her cover, but giving away the SD card wasn't ideal either. With a subtle sigh, she handed the camera over to the man, knowing she didn’t have anything to hide on there.
“Look, I'm not trying to cause any trouble. It's just pictures of the village, I promise," She said, trying to reason with him.
She heard him sneer as he began to go through her camera, “We’ll see about that.”
Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes and deck the guy right there and then, she maintained her composure and let out a sigh.
"Look, I'm a photographer. I'm here with my fiancé, who's working on a piece about village life. He's a journalist, we both work for The Times," She explained, ensuring her words flowed naturally and didn't sound rehearsed.
He quickly scanned through the photos, his stern expression gradually transforming into one of confusion as he found nothing that would raise any suspicion. All the photos were of the village, just as she had said. She maintained her innocent in the moment, concealing the anxiety that threatened to surface.
The man grumbled, “Yeah well, you better watch where you point that thing next time.”
"Apologies," Y/N murmured, retrieving her camera from his outstretched hand before he pushed past her, stalking away.
She took a moment to regain herself after he had walked away. The unexpected confrontation had rattled her nerves slightly, but her determination remained steadfast. Casually peering over her shoulder, she noticed the man rejoining the lady from earlier, who shot her a pointed look, sparking Y/N's suspicion further. Without hesitation, she turned on her heels and headed back to the pub. Once she felt like she was at a safe distance, she pulled out her phone and dialled Jonathan's number.
Holding the phone to her ear, she sighed as it went straight to voicemail.
"Hey, you've reached Jonathon Walker. I can't make it to the phone right now, but leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you."
BEEP
"It's me. Call me when you get this; something's happened," She said before hanging up, glancing around once more before resuming her walk back to the pub.
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: They despised one another & barely tolerated each other while working at Slough House. Tensions rise as they are sent out into the field together, working undercover to search for a sleeper agent in the cozy village of Upshott. To avoid being caught, they are forced to pretend that they are "together". Being so close in each others company causes certain feelings rise to the surface that they have both tried to bury for far too long.
𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨: she/her pronouns used. this story is based on the episode - from upshott with love, but I have changed the storyline line slightly, so it might not be the exact same as the show.
𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: this is a work of fiction; any names, characters from slow horses, places & incidents will either be a product of my imagination or used fictionally.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
Music blared through her earphones as Y/N sat outside Gloucester train station, perched on an uncomfortable bench. One leg crossed over the other with her bag resting underneath her feet. She kept peering over the bridge of her sunglasses, surveying the station's surroundings. With a quick glance at her watch, a flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She had received very particular instructions from Lamb earlier that day to be at Gloucester station by 2:00 pm, and now it was already 4:45 pm. She was starting to grow impatient. The prospect of a mission outside Slough House had completely and utterly exhilarated her. She felt as if she had been withering away there and craved an opportunity to prove herself. The anticipation of action was a welcoming change.
Her fingers picked mindlessly at the chipping paint on the seat beneath her, trying to stop herself from going crazy. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted a black car pull up in front of her. No cars had entered the car park since she got off the train, so she jumped up, fairly confident that it was Lamb.
She stood to her feet with a heavy sigh, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her gaze remained fixed on Lamb, who briskly got out the car, meeting her eye before closing the door.
“Oh, you are here. Didn’t expect you to show,” Lamb quipped sarcastically, retrieving a cigarette out from his pocket.
Through her sunglasses, she rolled her eyes, retorting, "You're hilarious, really. What the fuck took you so long? I've been off the train for at least two hours."
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Had a few loose ends to tie up. Surprisingly, you weren't at the top of my to-do list."
"Sure," Y/N scoffed, pushing her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, shooting him a glare.
A sudden realization hit her as she drew in a deep breath - Lamb hadn't been the one driving the hire car. Before she had the chance to voice her confusion, the other car door opened, and River emerged from the driver's seat.
Her narrowed gaze locked onto River, looking at him from head to toe before shifting her attention back to Lamb.
"Why is he here?" She asked sharply.
Lamb took a long drag of his cigarette, replying rather nonchalantly, "He's going with you."
Y/N raised her eyebrows in disbelief, her expression twisting in bewilderment. "You've got to be kidding."
"When do I ever joke?" Lamb retorted rhetorically. "Didn't have enough assignments to go around, and frankly, I could do with a break from the constant bickering between you two."
His words caused Y/N to shake her head, her gaze shifting over to River, who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender from where they rested on the roof of the car.
"Trust me," He said, his eyes briefly glancing off into the distance, "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either."
Approaching her with a file in hand, Lamb handed over the contents. "New ID, brief, funding package and dossier. Try not to fucking lose any of it," He remarked, met by another glare from Y/N as she snatched the file from his outstretched hand.
"Enjoy yourselves," Lamb said, already heading towards the train station's entrance. "Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention. Your cover story: you two are engaged."
"WHAT?!" River and Y/N both yelled in unison as they stared him down, their voices echoing through the station.
Turning back to face them, Lamb explained, "The point is to stay undercover, right? You need a believable story. No one will suspect two lovebirds exploring the cozy villages of Cotswolds."
"Seriously?" River objected, disbelief etched in his voice.
Lamb let out an exasperated sigh at the two of them. "Listen, I really couldn't give less of a fuck about the specifics, but for your own sake, make it look fucking convincing. Real lives are at stake here, and I don't need to remind you how that weighs on the line. I know 'acting' might be a stretch, especially for you two."
"Such a prick," Y/N muttered under her breath as they watched Lamb stride away.
River couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at her, watching as Y/N strode toward the boot of the car in frustration. With a forceful heave, she tossed her bag inside beside his, the resounding sound of her slamming the car boot shut making him cringe. Reclaiming the driver's seat, he waited for her to slip into the passenger seat beside him before reversing out of the carpark and back onto the gravel road.
An uncomfortable silence lingered within in the car, thick with tension, as they kept driving. Y/N couldn't believe just how unlucky she had gotten — being paired with the one person who drove her absolutely crazy. Their snide comments and constant bickering would undoubtedly always drive their colleagues mad.
She opened the folder Lamb had handed over, skimming through the documents detailing the individuals they were tasked to surveil. She made sure to read over the brief, absorbing all of the pertinent details.
"Just when things seemed to be looking up," Y/N murmured, her gaze now fixed on the passing scenery as they drove.
The audible sound of River sucking his teeth showcased his patience that was wearing thin. "You're not the only one feeling like that,” He grumbled, sinking back into the driver's seat. One hand gripped the steering wheel, while the other casually rested on his thigh.
A few moments passed in silence, the air growing even more thick with an unspoken tension between them. River drew in a deep breath, the air of annoyance dissolving momentarily before he spoke up again.
"Look, I get it. You're not my biggest fan, and I've never quite figured out why," He began, stealing a quick glance in her direction. "But I really want to nail this. Chances are, you do too."
She responded with a nonchalant shrug, though her eyes held an expectant look, urging him to continue.
"Regardless of our history, let's set it aside while we're out here," He proposed, gesturing towards the road ahead. "As Lamb pointed out, people's lives could be on the line."
Y/N sighed, knowing deep down that there was some truth in his words. Their clashes had been a staple at Slough House, a constant battle for dominance. Ultimately, she knew the mission took precedence, regardless of who she was partnered with.
"Fine," She relented, nodding in agreement.
"Great," River replied, raising his hand from his thigh, offering it for a shake. "So, are we good?"
Glancing at his offered hand, she hesitated briefly before accepting it in her own, giving it a firm shake. "We're good."
She felt the unexpected warmth of his hand leave as she released his hand. She offered a soft smile as she watched him maintain his focus on the road ahead. There was a palpable shift in the air, a mutual understanding settling between them.
“This doesn’t make us friends though, Cartwright,” She pointed her finger at him, “This purely for the sake of the mission.”
“Agreed,” He grumbled, a flicker of agreement laced in his tone.
As River continued to drive, they dove into the dossier. She continued firing off questions about the individuals that were listed while River shared what he had found from earlier on in the day. They planned their trip, discussed accommodations and went over their cover story multiple times to ensure it held up under scrutiny just in case anyone came asking questions.
“Harriet Madden,” She spoke, reading the name off her fake driver’s license, “And what is the name of my so-called fiancé?”
River chuckled softly, leaning across her to reach into the glove box, retrieving his own counterfeit driver's license.
"Jonathan Walker," He stated, extending the card for her to inspect.
With a playful eye roll, she accepted the card, examining it with a smirk, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
The sun was starting to set, casting a warm amber glow across the car park as Y/N lounged in the passenger seat of the hire car with her feet resting on the dashboard, engrossed in her phone. She had quickly changed into high-waisted jeans paired with an oversized sweatshirt, finding comfort in the casual attire as night would soon be approaching.
A while later, she heard the car door creak open causing her to glance up. She instantly did a double take at River's transformed appearance. He now wore black jeans complemented by a black button up shirt and topped with a forest green jacket. What really grabbed her attention was the reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, altering his usual look entirely. It was a change Y/N wasn’t entirely opposed to. She couldn’t help but stare at him with an evident furrow in her brow.
He caught her stare, returning it with a curious gaze of his own. He couldn't help but admire the relaxed vibe about her in the casual outfit—a side of her he had never witnessed before. The contrast between her usual demeanour and this relaxed appearance intrigued him, causing a subtle shift in his perception he had of her.
"What?" River queried, arching an eyebrow in response to the smile she wore.
Her grin widened, her gaze lingering on him. "You actually pull off the specs, you know."
"Was that a compliment I just heard?" He chuckled, fastening his seatbelt.
"Don't get used to it," She shot back, crossing her legs with a playful glint in her eyes.
Shaking his head in mock disbelief, River took a quick glance at his watch, releasing a short sigh. "Right, we better get going," He announced, turning the key in the ignition.
Y/N nodded in agreement, securing her seatbelt as they prepared for the last fifteen minutes of their drive.
"Oh, I almost forgot," River interjected suddenly, grabbing her attention as she watched him reach into the pocket of his jacket. "Here." With a deft toss, a small box landed in her lap.
Her curiosity piqued and she picked up the box, examining it with a quizzical expression. "What's… this?" She inquired.
He hesitated momentarily before responding. "Well, considering our 'engagement'," he emphasised the word with air quotes, "It might help if you had something to wear, you know?"
With a mix of surprise and intrigue, she slowly opened the box, revealing a ring that sparkled in the light that filtered through the car window. She gazed at the ring nestled inside, caught off guard by the gesture.
"It wasn’t expensive or anything, so don't get carried away," River remarked, his cheeks flushing slightly as he averted his gaze.
Her laughter was soft and genuine as she carefully examined the simple gold band with its oval-shaped rhinestone. It’s cheap appearance, most likely bought from the convenience store's jewellery section at the service station they were at, didn't change the thoughtfulness of it.
River tried to ignore the sudden tightening in his chest caused by the unfamiliar but pleasing sound of her laughter.
“Oh, so that’s what it sounds like when you laugh!” He teased, glancing down at her with a funny look.
Shaking her head, a lingering smile tugged at her lips. She purposefully avoided his expectant gaze, a playful edge in her voice. "Shut the fuck up."
It was quiet for a moment as Y/N bit her lip, a teasing glint in her eye as she remarked, "Who knew River Cartwright had a romantic streak?"
"Shut up, Harriet," He retorted, playfully jabbing at her with the fake name.
Y/N scoffed before sliding the ring onto her finger, finding it a tad loose but still manageable. She lifted her hand to display the ring, wiggling her fingers and drawing his attention to the now deadpan expression on her face. His eyes caught the sight, and he scoffed while rolling his eyes.
"Set your expectations low," He quipped, beginning to reverse out of the carpark with a hint of amusement laced in his voice.
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
It was dark by the time they had made it into Upshott. Y/N peered through the car window at the pub they had just arrived at, her brow furrowing at the peculiar name. Despite the late hour and it being midweek, "The Downside Man" appeared rather inviting, glowing with dim lights and a bustling atmosphere.
"The Downside Man," Y/N recited the name aloud, pondering about the way it rolled off her tongue. "Why is it that all these small villages have such peculiar names for their pubs?"
River casually unbuckled his seatbelt, shrugging slightly. "You tell me and we’ll both know."
They jumped out of the car, the cold air greeting them almost instantly. They both hopped out, heading towards the boot of the car to grab their bags. River took a moment to survey the surroundings, locking the car before turning his attention to Y/N.
He waited for her to glance up at him before asking, “You ready?”
"Absolutely," She replied with a sigh, gesturing for him to take the lead as they moved towards the welcoming glow of the pub.
Opening the door to the pub, he held it open courteously for Y/N to step in first. As she entered, the warm embrace of the cozy atmosphere and the lively hum of conversation instantly enveloped her. River walked ahead of her as she followed him through the animated crowd until they reached the bustling bar area, filled with patrons enjoying their evening. River spotted the barmaid, and Y/N took a quick moment to observe her as well. As they shuffled through the small crowd of people, he quickly glanced back at her over his shoulder, ensuring she was still in tow.
She came to stand at his side, glancing around at their surroundings while as River approached the bar. The distinctive sound of him placing his bag on the floor caught the attention of the barmaid, causing her to look up.
"Hi," She greeted with a hand on her hip. "What can I get you?"
River cleared his throat slightly before speaking, "Actually, we're just checking in for the night."
Y/N suppressed a scoff as she watched the barmaid blatantly check him up and down. The barmaid then quipped, "Johnnie Walker?"
Her lips curled under her teeth, and she glanced up from where she stood beside him as he hesitated. It only took a brief moment for him to regain his composure, shaking his head slightly.
"Yes. Yes, I am," He replied with a smile, recovering smoothly. "Sorry, you threw me. It's- It's Jonathon or Jon. It's not Johnnie, sorry."
The barmaid laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Do you get that a lot?"
River chuckled in agreement, "Yeah, mainly in pubs."
Y/N's gaze narrowed as she observed the scene unfolding between River and the barmaid. A subtle cough from her drew his attention, as she discreetly fixed a pointed stare at him. She couldn’t help but suspect that he might have been appreciating the barmaid's charms a bit too much.
Breaking the moment, River suddenly introduced her. "This is my fiancé, Harriet," He announced, resting his hand on Y/N's shoulder. She offered a polite smile towards the barmaid, "Hi."
However, the barmaid, simply turned around, completely blanking her as she grabbed the key to their room. "I’m Kelly, follow me," The bar maid instructed, leaving Y/N feeling like she was somewhat invisible.
She trailed behind River as they followed Kelly through the lively pub, a flicker of unease beginning to settle within her.
“What brings you to Upshott?” Kelly questioned, twirling the key in her finger as they began to climb the stairs.
River discreetly glanced back at Y/N, a silent exchange passing between them, before responding, "I'm a journalist, and Harriet is a photographer. I've been working on a piece about village life, and well, Upshott just seemed like the perfect place to start, really."
As he smoothly recited their rehearsed story, Y/N listened intently, realising that every detail matched their car conversation word for word. Kelly finally looked at Y/N for the first time, offering only a slight nod before unlocking the door to their room. Y/N couldn't help but narrow her eyes at Kelly as she turned her back, surprised by the lack of a proper greeting.
Despite “Jonathon” mentioning his fiancée, Kelly still refused to even acknowledge her presence.
"Who do you write for? Insomniacs Weekly?" Kelly joked with a playful smirk as she stepped into the room.
River chuckled slightly, "No, uh, The Times."
"Oh!" Kelly exclaimed, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on him.
Unable to stay silent any longer, Y/N stepped around River, walking further into the room. "This is lovely!" She exclaimed, raising her voice and briefly glancing at Kelly as she walked past.
Once again, Kelly ignored her and turned her attention back to River. "Well, I can give you the headlines. Apart from the village pub downstairs and the village shop, there really is fuck all going on."
Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at her behaviour, Y/N had to bite her tongue. It was evident that Kelly was captivated by Jonathon Walker, and River Cartwright's undeniable charm and good looks played a significant role. Despite their personal differences, Y/N couldn't deny his ability to make a woman feel weak in the knees. He was an incredibly attractive man.
The barmaid's blatant disregard for Y/N's presence surprised her, and she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. River could also sense her discomfort and walked across the room to stand next to her rather than alongside Kelly. Y/N felt the subtle brush of his arm against her shoulder, and she kept her gaze fixed on Kelly who was standing at the door.
"Well," He continued, maintaining the facade, "Where there's people, there are stories."
"Boring stories," Kelly retorted.
"No," He countered, "You ask the right questions, and you can usually find something interesting. You know, everyone has a secret."
The barmaid smiled, her sharp gaze fixed on him. "Well, don't be asking too many questions. We tend to sacrifice troublemaking strangers to the Green Man."
Observing their conversation, Y/N discreetly narrowed her gaze towards her as she spoke, feeling an unexplained unease. There was something about the way she watched them talk that unsettled her, though she couldn't quite pinpoint it. River maintained a polite smile but glanced down at her, his eyes searching hers as if to say - you okay?
Y/N maintained her smile, playing her part as she leaned against the bedpost.
"Oh," Kelly said, turning around. "I need to get you some towels. I need to get back downstairs, but I will leave them outside your door later."
"That's alright," River replied, glancing down at Y/N. "Think we're both pretty keen for bed, aren't we, darling?"
She looked up at him, her breath catching at the unexpected pet name that momentarily threw her off character. Nonetheless, she smiled and nodded in agreement. Sensing Kelly’s stare, Y/N felt his hand slide along her waist before resting on the bedpost where she leaned. In a spontaneous move, perhaps to irk the barmaid further, she wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning into him to present the image of a normal, happy couple.
"Alright," Kelly spoke shortly, glancing quickly at Y/N before offering the key to River.
Stepping forward, Y/N interjected, taking the key from her hand instead. "Ta," She said as she nodded, her face completely deadpan.
"Anything else?" Kelly asked, the question clearly directed at River.
"Uh, no," He answered, pulling Y/N back into his side. "All good, thank you."
"Right, see you later," Kelly said as she approached the door, pausing momentarily before adding, "Johnnie Walker."
River laughed, calling out, "Just Jon."
Y/N couldn't help but let out a dry, sarcastic laugh at the nickname. As the door closed, River glanced back at her with an oblivious look.
"What?" He asked, throwing his arms up in question.
She couldn't resist rolling her eyes at him.
"I'll see you later, Johnnie Walker," She said mockingly, tossing the room key onto a nearby table.
He scoffed, starting to take off his jacket. "Fuck off."
"She's clearly into you," Y/N observed, "And making it rather obvious that she doesn't give a fuck about me being here."
River scoffed again, this time playfully. "Not like you to care that much about something like that."
"I don't care," Y/N insisted, attempting to dismiss the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach at the mere thought of River with someone else.
A brief silence lingered between them, both their gazes settling on the solitary double bed in the middle of the room. Y/N had just about forgotten the obvious fact that there would be only one bed.
"Oh, great," She muttered, gesturing towards the bed.
River sighed, "I'll sleep on the floor."
A wave of guilt washed over her almost instantly, prompting her to abandon the bratty demeanour and take his comfort into consideration. The night was exceptionally cold, and the thought of him trying to sleep on the hard wooden floor seemed rather harsh.
"No, I'm sorry. Don't do that," She said, crossing her arms. "It's freezing, and I doubt you'd get a wink of sleep on this floor."
He looked at her, trying to figure out what she was implying.
"We can share the bed; it'll be fine," She suggested.
He half-smiled, "What if I would rather sleep on the floor?"
"Well, then knock yourself out," Y/N retorted. "Just trying to look out for you."
"That's unlike you." River remarked, furrowing his brow.
"River..." She sighed, growing a bit annoyed with his teasing.
"Alright, alright," He relented. "Thanks."
He watched her as she sat down on the bed, falling back against the mattress with a content sigh.
"Take what you can get, Cartwright," She remarked, "It's actually really comfortable."
River nodded, his gaze fixed on her as he stepped closer. Standing in front of her, he glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed, and her hair sprawled out across the mattress. Despite everything, he found her beautiful, though he thought admitting it to her face was a step too far.
She heard his footsteps across the floor, and when they stopped, she opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her, towering over her as he looked down.
"What?" She asked, watching him chew on his lip.
"If I'm sleeping in the bed, you're going to have to move," He stated.
She shot him a perplexed look. "Excuse me?"
"I always sleep on the left side," He explained with his hands in his pockets, his silver watch on his wrist catching the light.
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that right?"
"Yep," He confirmed, shifting his weight on his feet. "So, shove over."
She scoffed. "Not a chance. You're lucky I'm even letting you sleep in the bed at all."
"C'mon, move," He urged, tapping her on the leg.
"No," She shook her head, staying put.
River sighed. "Move."
She laughed, "Fuck off!"
He groaned in annoyance as she sat up, starting to playfully poke and prod at him with her hands.
"You're annoying me, stop," He said, holding his hands up while trying to avoid her playful gestures.
She found it incredibly amusing, knowing all too well that she was the only one that could get under his skin the way she always managed to. Her teasing continued as she started to sense his patience wearing thin. River groaned, gripping her arms forcefully, yet still being careful not to hurt her. With a mischievous squeal, she tried to resist, but he leant over her small frame while skilfully trapping her arms at her sides.
In this unexpected proximity, their faces were mere inches apart, a closeness they hadn't experienced before. A wave of familiarity swept over Y/N, a sensation she hadn't associated with River until this very moment. He felt it too, yet he tried his hardest to dismiss what he was feeling.
"I said, stop," He breathed out, shooting her a stern look.
Their eyes held each other's gaze for a few moments as they found themselves both getting lost in the silence. A quick idea sparked in her head, and she purposefully alternated her gaze between his eyes and his lips, enticing him to lean closer. She could feel his grip on her arms starting to loosen and she seized the opportunity. Without warning, she expertly wrapped her legs around his waist, flipping him over so that he was now laying on the bed, with her on top. Placing her forearm against his neck, she made sure not to press down too hard.
He grunted, attempting to stay as still as possible, but the feeling of her pressed against him became overwhelming, causing him to throw his head back.
"Great," He huffed, not being able to move as she had him pinned down. "Bet you’ve pulled this move on many people before."
"Only a few times," She chuckled. "Just be glad you had the bed to land on, unlike that poor policeman who you dropped onto the concrete at Stansted."
River sighed, shaking his head. "It was a training exercise."
"Don’t think he’ll be forgetting that in a hurry," She teased.
She soon released her hold from him and rose, briefly sitting back on his thighs. River followed suit, propping himself up on his elbows to gaze at her. Eventually, she stood up and headed over to her suitcase.
Grabbing some pyjamas, she made her way to the bathroom. "I’m having a shower."
As soon as the bathroom door closed, he fell back onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
What the fuck just happened?
✘ ✘ ✘ ✘
As the hot water cascaded over her weary body, Y/N found her thoughts drifting. Despite her efforts to focus on the mission, River kept intruding into her mind. Each time, she attempted to shake off the distraction, but it proved to be quite a challenge, especially given their close proximity.
She didn't want to get side-tracked, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Unfamiliar feelings were beginning to surface, starting to complicate things.
Stepping out of the shower, she went through her night-time skincare routine before changing into a pair of light grey pants and a matching singlet top. Towel in hand, she left the bathroom and entered the dimly lit room. Her eyes fell onto River, who was sorting through his clothes near the end of the bed. She scrunched her hair with the towel as she sat down at the desk in the corner, observing him pick out clothes he wouldn't have chosen for himself.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed him glancing over his shoulder and out the window, a shift in his demeanour quickly catching her attention.
"What is it?" Y/N asked softly.
He held a finger up to his lips, quickly switching the bed side lamp off to avoid being seen as he shushed her, gesturing for her to join him by the window. She hung the towel over a chair before approaching him. Standing together, they gazed down onto the street where a figure stood.
"Hey, Dad," They heard a voice say as Kelly emerged from the pub.
Y/N squinted, trying to discern the figure on the street below, and continued to eavesdrop.
"Just out for a stroll," The man spoke. "Thought I’d walk you home."
He then glanced up at their room. "Who's staying in the guest room?"
"He's a journalist, here with his fiancé, writing an article on village life," Kelly explained.
Y/N quickly glanced up at River, noting his focused expression in the moonlight, his eyes trained on the street below. They were so close, he tried to ignore the fact that he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume.
"Is he a proper journalist or a pretend one?" The man inquired as they began to walk away from the pub.
Kelly sighed, "Says he works for The Times."
They both watched sneakily through the window, peeking behind the curtains as the pair walked off down the street.
Y/N sighed, turning to face him. "Well, at least our story checks out."
River hummed. "For now."
She eventually finished her night-time routine, quickly brushing her teeth and running a brush through her damp hair. She then made her way over to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping beneath them in an attempt to avoid the night chill. River took his turn in the bathroom, closing the door behind him causing the darkness to envelop her. She closed her eyes, trying her best to seek relaxation for the night.
After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened, and River emerged, clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt. She heard him approach the bed, sensing the movement as he pulled back the covers and the mattress dipped when he settled in beside her. Even in the confines of the small double bed, they still managed to maintain some space between them.
Y/N lay on her side, facing away from him as she could feel his gaze on her. He drew in a deep breath before speaking, "I reckon we take a look around the village tomorrow, try and see what we can dig up."
"Okay," She hummed.
They fell into a breif moment of silence before he mumbled, "Night, then."
"Night," She replied.
Despite a couple of hours passing by, sleep became impossible for Y/N. The room was cloaked in darkness, with only the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Frustrated, she tossed and turned, unable to still her mind that was racing at a relentless pace. She turned onto her side again, facing the wall, and shook her head, unable to silence her thoughts. Suddenly, she heard a voice breaking through the silence.
"What's wrong?" River asked groggily, his voice laced with sleep. "You've been tossing and turning for ages."
She sighed, feeling guilty for waking him. "I just... can't sleep."
He sighed gently, turning onto his side to face her back. "You're the worst person to share a bed with."
"Yeah, thanks," She grumbled, tossing the sheets off her shoulder.
River breathed out, opening his eyes to peer at her back. The moonlight casted a gentle glow, revealing the cascade of her hair down her shoulders and back. A yawn escaped him, and after a moment of contemplation, his hand instinctively reached out.
Y/N felt her hair being pushed aside, initially thinking it was her imagination. Yet she soon felt a warm hand resting on her back, between her shoulder blades. Her breath hitched as she turned her head slightly to look at him.
"What are you doing?" She whispered.
"Just shut up and close your eyes," He teased. She gave in, turning back to face the wall. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck with every exhale he took through his nose.
His hand traced soothing patterns on the soft, exposed skin of her back. Despite the space between them, she could feel the warmth radiating from him as he inched closer just slightly. She surrendered to the sensation of his fingers tracing her back, gently lulling her into a deep, peaceful slumber.
