fickle fate & cruel coincidence ┃ miles quaritch x f!reader
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act 1, chapter 1
summary: Your relationship with Miles Quaritch had been rocky from the very start, but your love for him overpowered any hardships. You were committed to each other, and to working through any difficult situations that arose.
However, when war breaks out between the humans and the Na'vi, you end up on opposite sides of the fight. Life as you knew it fell apart, and when the smoke cleared you found yourself alone. With nothing left of the man you loved but grief. You came to terms with the fact that you'd never see him again.
But then, over a decade later, he's brought back into your life. Only this time, he's younger, a hell of a lot bluer, and oblivious to the fallout you'd had in his past life.
pairings: miles quaritch x reader
tags: fluff, angst, canon divergence, female reader, relationship, canon typical violence
word count: 6.5k
Your relationship with the ever-feared Colonel Miles Quaritch was strange, to say the least. The military and the scientists didn't really... mix—there were too many moral differences and contrasting worldviews. You stuck to that principle and stayed away from all the bulky, armed assholes for the most part.
But then there was the Colonel.
The two of you could almost be considered friends, or at least acquaintances. Meaning: you didn't try to rip each other's throats out every time you crossed paths. You talked. Mostly sarcastic banter or jabs at each other. He was definitely an asshole, but an asshole who could make good company.
Not to mention, he was very nice to look at, and could be fantasized about if the opportunity ever arose. Not that you would ever, ever do such a thing. Definitely not.
So he was an (attractive) asshole that you were almost friends with. He put up with your never-ending science talk, and you put up with his macho, alpha male bullshit. It worked somehow. You couldn't explain it, but you wouldn’t complain. Much better to be on his good side than the alternative.
Or—even better—to be on his really good side. A place you discovered only through getting in bed with the man.
The first time you slept with the Colonel, you didn't think it was a big thing. It was a mostly drunken, I’m horny and you’re the closest willing participant, one-night stand. The sex was great, and he was great, but it was just that. Great sex. As far as you were concerned, that was the end of it. There’d probably be a few days of awkward exchanges and avoiding eye contact, and then things would go back to normal. You'd continue living your life with no changes.
Considering Quaritch was gone by the time you woke up the next morning, you assumed the two of you were on the same page. At least until lunchtime rolled around.
Hunched over a desk in your lab, you studied the readings taken from a recent outing Grace and her team had taken. Samples of the river water and the soil that made up the bed. Similar to that of Earth's, but still different enough to be fascinating. You'd spend all your time studying each thing on this planet if you could. Pandora was a gold mine in terms of discovery.
You loved studying everything this place had to offer. Almost as much as you liked to take the form of a Native and walk in one of their shoes, so to speak. Being one of the select few people who got an Avatar was a privilege you did not take lightly. The Na'vi were a wonderful species, despite their rocky relationship with humans.
The gun-slinging humans, that is.
Pushing your reading glasses farther up the bridge of your nose, you used your fingers to zoom in on the data displayed on the screen. Then your hand went down to the holographic keyboard and continued typing the sporadic notes your mind spilled out. Using both your hands was something you'd gotten good at in this profession. Your brain moved too fast for you to have to stop and write, so you'd learned to do it as you went. A few of your colleagues considered that a freakish quality, but you considered it an occupational hazard.
"Dr. Y/l/n."
You looked up from your work, annoyed, and both hands stalled in their tasks. The irritation froze on your face as your eyes landed on Colonel Miles Quaritch standing in front of your workspace, arms pinned behind his back. He was watching you closely, intrigued. There was no telling how long he'd been standing there, watching you be completely engrossed in your task. It made you want to crawl out of your skin.
You cleared your throat, pushing the glasses up to rest atop your head. Leaning back in the chair, you crossed your arms in an attempt to guard yourself.
"Colonel Quaritch," you greeted him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The corner of his lips twitched, fighting a smirk. "Well, I see you're awfully busy. But I couldn't help but wonder if you wouldn't be able to step away and join me for lunch today?"
Never in all your time knowing the man had he ever asked you to share a meal with him. That wasn’t something the two of you did. You didn’t hang out on purpose. It just sort of happened. Any interactions you had were coincidental. Now he was breaking that unspoken rule, and it was like the world was flipping on its axis.
"Lunch," you blinked. "With me."
He nodded, looking more amused by the second.
"Why?"
"Is there something wrong with wanting to share a meal with an... acquaintance?" The Colonel raised an eyebrow.
He was teasing you—that asshole. You let him sleep with you, and now he was interrupting your work with a loaded lunch invite and teasing you about it. God, what an entitled, pretentious dick. A really handsome entitled, pretentious dick, yet a dick all the same.
What could it hurt, though? Just having lunch with him. You were hungry, and he wasn't someone who took no for an answer. Plus, it wasn't like last night was bad—not by any means. There weren't any regrets lingering in the light of day. He probably just wanted to make sure you weren't expecting him to get down on one knee and pull out a ring, which you definitely weren't.
You sighed, your mind already made up. "Fine," you agreed, saving your work and getting to your feet. "Let's have lunch."
He smiled fully this time. He had a really nice smile. "Outstanding."
The two of you ended up in his quarters, which included an entire kitchen he had to himself—something you very much did not have. You wondered if it was because you weren't military, or maybe because you were specifically a scientist. The higher-ups didn’t particularly smile upon either. Not that that was breaking news to anyone.
Also, the Colonel cooked, apparently. Or at least he was right now as you sat at the table and watched him manhandle a couple of chicken breasts. Your chin rested in your palm, leg bobbing as the silence went on. The only noise in the room was the quiet sizzling of the food. But you could feel the tension of things unsaid.
"So..." you began, running your finger back and forth over the table, "do you often invite acquaintances to your place for a meal?"
"Only when we had sex the night before," he retorted, looking back at you over his shoulder. You could see a humorous glint in his eyes from across the room.
You scoffed, letting your hand drop onto the surface of the table. The other one moved from your chin to drag over your face and into your hair. Sitting up straight, you took a breath and steeled yourself for an uncomfortable conversation.
"Look, you don't need to do this," you told him. "Last night was a-"
"If you say 'a mistake', you're not getting your food."
"No! Not a mistake. God-" you groaned, about ready to just call it quits and get the hell out of there. "It wasn't a mistake. It's not like I regret it. But... but it was just one night. Just some sex. I know that. I'm not sitting here waiting for a promise that you'll be with me forever or some shit. We're both adults with needs. And that's what last night was. It was just a thing that happened. Nothing has to change."
"Is that what you want?" Quaritch asked. He made his way over with plates of mouth-watering food in one hand, and a wine bottle and two glasses in the other. Your stomach growled. He set the plates down and took the seat across from you.
"Is it- what?"
"A one-night-stand," he responded, shoving a bite of chicken in his mouth. "Is that all you want us to be? You wanna leave it at that?"
"I..." You were very lost. You grabbed your fork so you had something to do with your hands. "What other options are there?"
"Oh, I'm glad you asked," he reached over and poured some wine for the two of you, with quick and perfect precision. It was unbelievably hot. "We could do it again. And again. And have meals like this every once in a while. Maybe spend some time together outside of work. Doing things."
You felt like the Earth had vanished under you, and you were falling down a bottomless pit. This had taken you completely by surprise. You could barely comprehend it. Was he asking you to go steady? As in, date each other? What the fuck? Had he hit his head and had some freak accident or something?
"You- are you asking me to be in a relationship with you?" You questioned, taking your wine and downing half of it in one go.
"If that's what you want to call it. But I think of it as more of a... hanging out situation."
You give him a deadpan look. "Hanging out."
"Mmhmm."
"And having sex with each other."
"I'd say so."
"And are we allowed to see or sleep with other people?"
"Absolutely not."
"That's a relationship!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation.
"Okay, maybe it is," he tilted his head, raising one hand in a sort of soothing gesture. "Is there something wrong with that?"
A sigh left your lips. "Quaritch-"
"Call me Miles."
You watched him for a moment, tongue stuck in your cheek. Then you shook your head, averting your gaze. "See, that's exactly it. You're trying to get up close and personal. I'm not- that's not a good thing to do with me. I'm not the relationship type. We wouldn't work."
"And why is that?" He asked.
"Well, for starters," you began, taking another bite, "I'm a workaholic."
"So am I. That's why we're both here."
“You were gone when I woke up this morning. Like a manwhore sneaking out before he could be caught in the light of day.”
“I have a job, as was just stated. My day starts early.”
"You're twenty years older than me," you shot back.
"So what? That doesn't mean anything. We're both adults," he argued, sipping his wine. "And that didn't stop you last night."
You were flailing. Searching for any reason the two of you couldn't be in a relationship. Because you couldn't, right? There was no way it would work out. It wasn't a good idea. It would ruin the little friendship the two of you had, and you couldn't do that. You didn't have many friends to begin with.
"Isn't it, like, illegal?" You asked. "We're sworn enemies. The scientist and the Marine. It'd be doomed from the start. Plus, we're coworkers. I don't know if that would even be allowed."
"Oh, please. You think the higher-ups expect every single person on this mission to stay alone and celibate the whole time? That's not reasonable. There's no one else. Your only choices would be to date a coworker or be alone."
You took your sweet time chewing individual bites of your food. It gave you an excuse to stay quiet and think—try to sort through the mess in your mind. He was right, of course. Every excuse you gave, he had a solution at the ready. He'd thought this through down to the last detail. Miles was serious about this. About you.
But did you even like him that way? You enjoyed talking to him, and sleeping with him was great. You thought about him in quiet moments, and he knew how to make you laugh. But he also pushed your buttons and made you so angry you saw red. You wanted to throttle him just as much as you wanted to kiss him.
"What are you so afraid of?" He asked.
"Everything," you breathed, hating how shaky you sounded. "God, I'm scared of everything. How can you not be?"
The man reached over and placed one hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You met his eyes, surprised to find sympathy there.
"I'm terrified," he began, almost smiling. "But, way I see it, it's easier to be scared together than alone. And that's all I'm asking for. Be scared with me."
God, he was good at being sweet when he wanted to be. Not to mention very convincing.
You had to be honest; you'd thought about it before. About him and you, and there being something there. But you never imagined anything would actually happen. You never thought he'd want something to happen. And yet, here the two of you were. Would it be so bad to give it a try?
"Jesus Christ..." you sighed, reaching for your wine again. "We need to take it slow. I don't know how this shit works, I don't wanna screw up."
"Don't doubt yourself, darlin'," Miles responded, smirking. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out together."
"How?"
"How about we just start with dinner? Tonight. How's that sound?" He asked, going back to eating his food.
You picked up your fork to do the same. Your breaths slowed in an attempt to calm your pounding heart. "Dinner. Yeah, I can do that."
"Great, then. We'll do that," he nodded approvingly. "Now finish your food."
Two months
Something about breathing in the fresh air of Pandora made everything feel so peaceful. You couldn’t breathe it in human form unless you wanted to die, of course. But when you were piloting your Avatar? God, you could stay out there forever just breathing. It, like everything else on this planet, was making you fall deeper in love every day.
You were outside the facility where you lived and worked, standing on the edge of the training course for the Avatars. There were a couple of pilots doing the course, or racing each other through it, or just meandering around like you. It was good to be consistent in taking your Avatar body out and moving a bit, ensuring you stayed in shape and connected to the form. You weren’t really one for exercise, but you definitely could take a stroll out in the air you loved so much. Plus, it was nice to have an excuse to get out of the lab.
Grace was out on a research mission—one you weren’t needed for. Which meant you were left to your own devices for the day. Not something you were extremely good at, considering you spent all your time either working or sleeping. There was no room in your life for ‘free time’. And that was all you had at the moment.
You walked along the grass, tail swaying behind you and shoes hanging from your fingers. It was a hot day, but the soil under your feet was cool. The sensation was a welcome reprieve. Other Avatars hollered and laughed and chatted around you, and you could hear the leaves rustling as the wind blew through them. It caused a smile to curl on your lips.
“That damn tail is so unnerving.”
Turning towards the voice, you watched as Miles made his way over to you, oxygen mask on. He stopped about a foot from you and looked up to meet your eyes. You were much taller than him in this form, leaving him face level with your stomach. Looking you up and down, the Colonel seemed conflicted. He wasn’t fond of the Na’vi people, but he was very fond of you. And here you were in front of him, as something he despised.
“I don’t know, I kinda like it,” you responded, crouching down to be more at his level. The action caused him to grimace, and you bit back a laugh. The man was so used to being big and bad—too tall to touch and never disobeyed. You being near twice his size wasn’t very enjoyable.
“That’s not a funny joke,” he reprimanded, looking back up at your face. “How could you like that? It’s animalistic.”
“It is not. You’re so close-minded when it comes to the Na’vi. They’re a wonderful people. You’d know that if you tried learning and communicating instead of just shoving a gun in their face.”
“We’re not here to make friends, y/n. We have a mission. It’d benefit you to remember that whenever you’re playing dress-up.”
You rolled your eyes, but there wasn’t much sincerity behind it. This was a conversation the two of you had often. Neither of you was willing to budge on where you stood. You’d learned to mostly accept it as a part of him, as much as you hated it. All you could do was hope that one day he’d find something that would change his mind. Then maybe he’d take a more peaceful approach to this whole thing.
“Did you come out here just to argue with me, or was there something else?” You asked, ears twitching. Miles eyed the extremities with distaste before meeting your eyes again.
“It’s your birthday. I came to tell you we have plans to celebrate tonight,” he explained, placing his hands on his hips—typical commanding leader posture.
You blinked, surprised. Your birthday wasn’t something you were vocal about, or really celebrated at all. It was just a day, same as any other. Besides, there was too much work to do these days for something as trivial as that. So you didn’t talk about it, didn’t tell people when your birthday was, didn’t make it seem like any sort of big deal.
How had he found out about it?
“How did you know it’s my birthday?”
“Your file,” he said matter-of-factly. “Couldn’t exactly trust you to tell me, seeing how it’s today and you haven’t said a word.”
“You looked at my file? Isn’t that classified?” You raised an eyebrow, blue hands resting on your knees.
“Nothing’s classified for me.”
A scoff rumbled in your throat. “Good to know the power hasn’t gone to your head.”
“Will you quit sassing me and just agree to meet me in my room tonight?”
“Is that a request or a command, Colonel?”
“Y/n, I swear to God-” “Okay, okay,” you laughed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll be there if we really have to celebrate. I don’t like birthdays being a big thing.”
“Well, that’s too damn bad. As your boyfriend, I insist it be a big thing. I’ll see you tonight. Be ready to party,” he told you, a smile curving at his lips.
You blinked, tail twitching to a stop behind you.
Boyfriend. He’d called himself your boyfriend. That hadn’t happened, not in all the time you two had been… doing whatever you were doing. Apparently, it was a relationship for him. A full-fledged boyfriend and girlfriend relationship. That was a big commitment.
You weren’t good at commitment. That was the entire issue with this from the beginning. He was making it a thing now, and you were freezing up, and the two of you were here staring at each other. You could feel the golden yellow eyes of your Avatar begin to sting from how long you hadn’t blinked.
“Did your connection just break or somethin’? Why are you staring at me?”
“You called yourself my boyfriend,” you choked out, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You fought the urge to just get up and run away—ignore this whole thing. By the grace of God, you kept yourself exactly where you were.
“That’s what I am, ain’t I?”
“Well, I just- that’s… you’ve never said that before. I didn’t really think-”
“This is a relationship, y/n. We’re not seeing other people. We spend all our free time together. We kiss and have sex and spend the night with each other. That’s what a relationship is. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m gonna call myself that.”
Chewing on your lip, you tried to work through the anxious whirlwind in your mind. Relationships set off a warning bell in your head. From the look on Miles’ face, he was well aware of that fact. Thank God he’d learned how to deal with it. One of the many reasons you were willing to do any of this with him.
“Nothing’s changed, honey. We’re doing the same things we’ve already been doing. Now, we can just use fun titles for each other. That’s all.”
He was right. Of course he was. He was gorgeous and fun and smart. And he wanted you, as crazy as that was. You could not afford to mess this up because of your personal shortcomings. You would put your fears aside and let yourself enjoy this.
“Yeah, okay. Yeah. That’s true,” you breathed, ears perking up. “Okay. Then we’ll celebrate tonight—as boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Don’t be late,” he chuckled, moving to head back to the facility.
“Miles,” you called, watching as he turned back to you.
Your large hand wrapped around his forearm, gently pulling him closer. He followed the movement, looking up at you. You smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his oxygen mask—right at his hairline. Then you let go. He immediately stepped back and cleared his throat. Looking a little too flustered, he nodded goodbye and hurried back to the building.
Your smile grew as you watched him go, heart swelling in your chest.
Five months
You’d been in the lab for nearly two days straight. Living off of shitty coffee and sleeping in five-minute increments whenever you got the chance. Your hair and skin were disgusting. You looked like death. The whole thing could hardly be called living.
You’d gotten an incredible set of samples on your last mission, and wasted no time in studying every tiny little detail.
You tended to get into these phases. When work became the only thing, and you couldn’t focus on anything else. It came with the territory of loving your job.
Also, you were avoiding Miles.
The last time you’d seen him—and the last time you’d been out of the lab—he’d dropped a bomb on you with absolutely zero warning. You were eating dinner together, like you did every night, when he paused mid-meal to look at you. When you questioned this, he just smiled and spoke the words that had you running for the hills. I love you.
The two of you were in a relationship. Fully committed to each other for the past several months. He meant the world to you, and you to him. But that little step, those three words, had yet to be taken. You were terrified, and he knew that.
He respected the fact that you needed space, time, and gentleness with every little thing. He knew what those words meant to you. How real everything would become when they were spoken.
You were happy with him. He made you laugh, cared about you, and understood you in a way no one else could. You had no plans of being with anyone else as long as he would have you. But with the reality of him saying he loved you, you were terrified that everything would change. That you’d lose the blissful bubble the two of you were in.
So, like the coward you were, you ran away. You told him you had work to finish and left your food half eaten, and your boyfriend confused and hurt. You’d been in the lab ever since. Poring over data readings and notes, and anything that would take your mind off your personal life.
Miles hadn’t come to visit you since you left him that night. But there hadn’t been any sign of him. He was keeping his distance, and it made you feel sick. You were losing him. It was your own damn fault.
Tears stung your eyes, and you squeezed them shut to stop yourself from crying. You wouldn’t break down. Not now. You were working, and you’d keep a straight face in front of your colleagues. Tonight, you’d leave. You’d go back to your room and mourn. Let all the emotions out that you’d bottled up over the last two days.
“Doctor y/l/n!”
You looked up as a panicked medic hurried into the lab. They stopped just in front of your desk, gasping for air.
“What’s going on?” You asked, trying to suppress the immediate rise of panic. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t good.
“My- my superior asked me to get you,” they panted, swallowing hard. “Said you had medical training. It’s an emergency.”
You were on your feet before the medic had finished speaking. You hurried towards the door they’d just come through, barely sparing them a glance. “Tell me the details on the way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they responded, scurrying after you.
There had been an attack on a military squad stationed on a recon mission—several casualties and even more injured. The survivors and their fallen comrades’ bodies had just been brought in, and the medics scrambled to process and treat their patients. Who was alive and who wasn't was a complete mystery at this point.
One of the soldiers, status unknown, was Colonel Miles Quaritch.
Your blood had run cold, an icy fist clamped around your heart. Your hands trembled as you entered the infirmary. Breaths shallow and shaky, eyes pooling with tears you didn’t even notice. Your heart hammered in your ears as you scanned the room. It was chaos.
Medics running amok, soldiers taking up every bed in sight, all injured to a certain extent. You looked at the faces of each and every one, praying to see Miles among them. But your search was futile. You felt your knees start to buckle. He wasn’t here.
“No,” you whispered, not to anyone in particular. “No, no, no, no.”
He couldn’t be- he had to be okay. He had to. The last time you’d seen him, he’d said he loved you, and you left. You ran away, and now he might be gone for good. It was impossible to wrap your brain around.
You had to see him. You had to say sorry—you had to fix this and tell him you loved him too. Because you did. You loved him. You loved him so much you could barely stand it.
You couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t get the chance to tell him how you felt.
Everything had gone numb. Your brain had disconnected from your body. Your eyes landed on Corporal Wainfleet, Miles’ second in command. He grit his teeth as a nasty cut on his torso was being tended to. You walked towards him, slow and uncoordinated. If anyone would know what happened, it’d be Lyle.
The soldier’s eyes flicked up once you got close enough. The look on your face had him squaring his jaw. “Y/n-”
“Where is he?” You asked, voice wobbly.
Wainfleet was one of the select few who knew about your relationship with his commanding officer. Neither of you were the type to share your personal lives with the world. That discounted the people closest to you, who got the more intimate details no one else did. That included the Marine in front of you.
However, something rerouted your attention before he could answer. A painfully familiar voice coming from one of the med rooms to your right. “No, I don’t need to be looked at. I’m perfectly fine. I’m going to check on my men.”
You’d know that voice anywhere—the sound of it was music to your ears. You left Lyle’s bed without a word, pushing past people to get to him.
Peeking into the room, you sobbed in relief as tears slipped down your cheeks. Miles was there. Shoving off the medics trying to check on him as he tried to get to his feet. He didn’t look to be in terrible shape, other than some scratches on his arms and a cut over his forehead. You’d have to look him over to ensure that was the worst of it.
You threw yourself at him, forgoing all politeness. It didn’t matter that other people were in the room. It didn’t matter that they had no idea you two were together. All that mattered was that he was okay.
Burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso, you got as close to him as you could. He grunted in surprise, pausing only a moment before you felt one strong arm rest across your back. You knew everyone was watching the two of you, but you didn’t care. He was alive, he was okay, he was here with you. You sniffled into his shirt, taking fistfuls of the fabric in your hands.
“God, you asshole,” you huffed, pulling away to look at him with teary eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you? Scaring me like that. I should kick your ass.”
Miles stared at you for a second, then looked up at the other people around you. “Clear the room.”
It was a powerful command. Within seconds, it was just the two of you. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. A small smile spread across his mouth as you leaned into the touch. You took his face in your hands, as if you needed physical proof that he was here in front of you. Proof that everything was okay.
“I didn’t think you’d care much what happens to me,” he whispered. “Considering how our last interaction went.”
“Don’t say that. That’s not-” you shook your head, dropping your hands to your lap. “I’m a coward. I know that. I got scared… when you told me you loved me. It suddenly made all of this real. You said that, and I just saw how everything could go wrong. And I couldn’t handle that. So I ran.”
Miles opened his mouth to speak, but you continued before he could get a word in.
“But then this happened. Your squad got attacked, and I didn’t know if you were alive, and I was paralyzed with fear. I was suddenly faced with the thing I was most afraid of—my life without you in it. It’s not a life I want to live,” you swallowed, taking his hands in yours. “So I’m done running. I’m done avoiding you. I’m done lying to myself. I choose you. If you’ll still have me, I’m committed. I love you too. I love you.”
The man was smiling, looking at you as if you hung the stars in the sky every night. He squeezed your hands, gently tugging you closer. “Sweetheart, there’s no other choice for me.”
You laughed, still a little teary, and kissed him with all the passion you could muster. Miles grabbed your waist, pulling you against him. When the two of you finally broke away to breathe, he was still smiling. So much that the skin around his eyes crinkled. It warmed your heart.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…” You began, pulling back and punching his shoulder. He let out a noncommittal ‘ow’ as you glared at him. “If you ever pull a stunt like this again, it won’t be the Pandoran natives you need to worry about. It’ll be me.”
He chuckled, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”
Eight months
Miles was angry. You could tell by the stress lines between his eyebrows and above his near-permanent scowl. Though the scowl was rare when he was with you, it still made an appearance from time to time. You’d finally learned to tell the difference between his ‘it’s Tuesday’ scowl and his ‘someone’s about to lose an arm’ scowl. It was currently the latter.
He sat at his desk, spine ramrod straight—typical military posture. His lips moved in silent mutters to himself, fingers tapping away at the holopad built into the table. The longer he stared at it, the more his eyes squinted. If you looked past the expression of rage, it was sort of adorable. He would be pissed to hear you say that out loud.
You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and head tilted. Miles hadn’t noticed you yet. He was too engulfed in whatever he was working on. Pursing your lips to fight a smile, you moved into the room and made your way towards him. He grunted, acknowledging your presence, but made no effort to look up.
“Someone’s grumpy,” you commented, coming to stand behind him. One of your hands carded through his hair from the nape of his neck to the top of his head. Your fingers rested on the scars up the right side of his scalp.
“Ah, I hate this damn thing,” he grumbled, tilting his head back into your touch. “The buttons are too small, and it’s too hard to see. Whatever happened to just writing things down?”
“I think that’s something that died back in your time, old man,” you teased, and he looked up to glare at you. It just made you laugh, pushing him back from the desk to sit on his lap. He didn’t protest. Just rested his hands on your hips to keep you in place. “What are you working on?”
“Some bullshit report the higher-ups want about the last mission we went on. Usually, I’d make Lyle do these, but I thought I’d take care of it while I finish up some other paperwork,” he explained, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder at the holoscreen. “But as I said, the whole thing’s a shitshow, and I’m about to shoot it.”
“Well, I’m not so sure those higher-ups would take kindly to you destroying a very expensive piece of equipment,” you said, saving his work and going to the settings of the pad, enabling a couple of features your boyfriend probably didn’t even know existed.
“Screw ‘em,” Miles commented offhandedly. He rested his chin on your shoulder. “What’re you doing?”
“Changing a few things to make it easier for you to use. I call it the ‘elderly citizen’ protocol.”
“Girl, you keep sassing, and I’mma smack you upside the head,” he warned, but when you turned to give him a light laugh, his lips twitched up into a smile.
“Alright, I made it so you can either enter your report through the keypad, like you’ve been doing. Or…” you pressed a button to pull up the other options, leaning to show him, “you can do text-to-speech, where you just speak to it and it transcribes it for you. You can also use a stylus and write it out in this little box here, and it’ll put it into the system as if you typed it.”
The man leaned forward, intrigued by what you were showing him. He nodded, giving a ‘huh’ before he looked at you. “I didn’t know it could do that. How did you know?”
“This program is the baseline of all my work,” you explained, leaning against one of the chair’s armrests so you could better face him. “Of course I’d know all the ins and outs.”
“It’s insane to me how damn smart you are,” Miles hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’d be lucky to have a brain like yours on our team.”
A scoff escaped your lips as you shook your head. “Yeah, because you know how badly I’ve always wanted to be a violent, gun-carrying military monkey.”
Something unreadable passed through his eyes, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. You instantly wished you could take it back.
“Is that what you think I am? Just some mindless, blood-hungry mongrel?”
“No. No, Miles, of course not,” you said immediately, taking his face in your hands. “I disagree with the things you sometimes have to do. But I don’t think that’s who you are. I know who you are. I love who you are.”
“But that is who I am. It’s my mission. What I do-”
“You are not your mission, Miles. Don’t get yourself and your job confused,” you told him. “You are a sweet, funny, smart man who means the world to me. You have a difficult job, and I admire you for taking that on. But it’s not you. Just like I’m not my science. They’re separate.”
Your boyfriend sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. When he looked at you again, he just gave a resigned nod. One of his hands came to rest on your thigh.
“Alright, alright. I guess I can accept that.”
“Thank you,” you sighed, smiling at him. “I really didn’t mean to make it sound like I think that of you. You know that’s not how I feel.”
“Yeah, darlin’, I know. Don’t worry, I’m not mad.”
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his temple. Despite his assurances, you still felt guilty. You’d have to make it up to him soon. He treated you too well for you to upset him and just leave it.
“While we’re on the subject of how you think of me, though…” he trailed off, and you felt an anxious tightening in your gut. But you stayed calm, plastering a smile on your face.
“Yeah? What about it?”
“You make comments about my age every once in a while,” he pointed out.
You held back a wince, giving him a remorseful look. “Miles-”
“It doesn’t hurt my feelings or anything, I just… I wonder if it bothers you. Our age difference. How you feel about dating an older man,” he explained. You paused for a moment, letting his words wash over you. Your heart began to ache.
“Oh, Miles,” you furrowed your brows, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Don’t you ever think that. It doesn’t matter to me at all. Those comments are my shitty sense of humor. It’s nothing serious, I swear. Your age doesn’t bother me. In fact, I kinda like it. Makes me feel all nice and special that such a wonderful, mature man would choose me. It goes to my head a little too often.”
“Oh, yeah?” He asked, already looking more chipper. He hooked an arm around your waist. “When does it go to your head?”
“You know, whenever you come to pick me up from the lab at the end of the day. You kiss me and grab my hand and lead me away. That one assistant with the red hair? You know her? God, the look she gives me. Like she wants to rip my head off and gut me like a fish.”
“Mm. Jealous, then.”
“Absolutely. And maybe it’s evil of me, but I love it. Knowing she’s seething because she wants something I have, I eat it up,” you murmured. “And I can’t believe how lucky I am to have it. To have you.”
“Sweetheart, you know just what to say,” Miles smirked, moving until your noses were barely centimeters apart. “Now, how about we go back to our room and give her another reason to be jealous of you?”
“What, are you gonna invite her to watch?” You teased.
“Nah, she’ll be able to hear you wherever she is.”
All you could do was laugh as he scooped you up and carried you out of his office.
