Interruptions
"What do you think heavy ammo available means, Guardian?! Tell me! Because I don't think you know!"
The Young Wolf props herself against the doorframe with an amused look. Her eyes flicker along the Warlord's frame. He doesn't even notice her, so lost in the match before him. Arcite noticed her right away but gives nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement before returning to his task at the console. She folds her arms over her chest and it's only the sound of her helmet transmatting that draws the Warlord's gaze away from his console.
"Ah! Guardian." He straightens up, "You're back!"
She offers a nod of greeting and tilts her head with a soft smile.
He beckons her closer and she pushes off the wall. She doesn't get more than a few steps closer to him when there's commotion sounding over the speakers.
"How was the--" he pauses, glancing back down at the console, "One moment." He hits the comm, "If you lose this, I'll tell you what you did wrong. You. Didn't. Throw. Enough. Grenades! You should be throwing grenades as I say this!"
She chuckles softly, winding her arms around his waist from behind to give him a tight hug. Her arms clasp around his torso, her head settling against the cool metal plating over his spine. He’s continued his commentary but his hand has closed over hers, trailing his thumb over the rough leather. She closes her eyes, letting his voice reverberate through her, fixating on the simple comfort of his presence and his touch.
The comm cuts out and he looks over his shoulder as best he can, "How was the mission?"
She gives no response beyond a squeeze to his waist.
"One of those, I see. Are you able to stay the night?" He squeezes her hand for an instant, resuming his thumb’s slow track back and forth over a seam along the side of her glove. It's a fragment of the comfort she was hoping for but she'll take what she can get while he's occupied with the Crucible.
Any contact is good contact at this point.
"Commander Zavala won't have another assignment until tomorrow." She manages softly, pressing closer with a squeeze.
"Excellent! I've been meaning to--" a blip from the console to his right snags his attention and he sighs, "Hold on."
She stifles a smile as she releases him. Her hands fold in front of her as she watches him step over to another console, "Five minutes left. Crush them." He shuts off the comm with a sigh, "If you can aim, that is."
"I can come back," the Young Wolf offers as Shaxx drops into his chair.
"No, I--" he heaves a heavy sigh, "As much as I'd like to give you my undivided attention--"
She pats his shoulder as a show of reassurance, her eyes flickering over the monitors with intrigue.
"Thank you," he casts a look up toward her but she does not return it. She does let him take her hand though, lets him entwine their fingers and hold them against his chest.
"How are the rookies looking?" Ghost asks as the Guardian shifts to lean over the Crucible Handler's chair from behind. Her arms wrap around his neck, her head hovering beside his own.
"As if they're more likely to burn down the arena before managing to hit one of their opponents," Shaxx sighs, tilting his head to rest it against hers. "It's tedious."
"You could always intervene." She suggests with a playful lilt.
"Hm," he reaches up, trailing a finger along the underside of her chin, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I always enjoy seeing you in action," she returns smugly.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, dearest."
She chuckles softly, adjusting her arms around his neck to act as more of a hug rather than a means of support. She doesn't need to answer. Shaxx knows exactly what that means.
It's why he gently breaks her hold around his neck and guides her around the chair by her hand. It’s why he tugs her into his lap, her thighs framing his hips. Why he lets her keep one of his hands hostage as she gets comfortable against his chest.
"This does make it difficult to call the match," he points out.
"Just send them to run some drills. They look like they could use it," Ghost gazes down at the monitor with a hint of amusement, "Their Ghosts must be embarrassed."
A hearty laugh rumbles from the Warlord, "Some aren't nearly as adept at combat as your Guardian, Ghost."
"I got the best one," he beams in response, zipping to the Young Wolf.
She pats his shell gently but doesn't lift her head from Shaxx's chest as the Little Light transmats away for the time being. She's far too comfortable with his arm wrapped around her and her hand entwined with his. The weight of the mission ebbs from her mind as her eyes sag shut, cuddling closer to Shaxx’s neck wrap and basking in the warmth beneath her cheek.
She is where she wants to be - in his arms, the closest sensation she knows to what she feels home would be like.
Unfortunately, they are not without their distractions. There’s an explosion from the monitor near her head and Shaxx heaves a heavy sigh.
"I've seen enough. I'm calling it." He gently pries his hand from her own, something she allows with no small traces of annoyance while he reaches for the commlink, "There are four of you! You all have guns! I don't understand how this happened but you're going to learn to use them properly!"
She laughs softly then, lifting her head to look at him but his sharp eyes are already fixated on her features, the ‘link deactivated without a second glance in its direction. Her breath hitches despite his visor veiling the intensity of his gaze but she is keenly aware of his hand beginning to trail along her bicep.
"I hope you're comfortable." He tilts his head, his voice soft yet firm.
She mirrors the action but her brows draw together curiously as if to ask what he means by that.
"If you get up now, I may have to go scold some sense into those rookies."
She reaches up, cradling the edge of his helmet gently, "Guess I'm not moving then."
"So you aren't." He sighs, cupping her hand. "Your timing is always impeccable, Guardian."
There's a mischievous glint in her eyes as she traces her thumb back and forth over what would be his jawline. It only lasts a moment or two before Shaxx grows impatient for the contact. He pulls her hand away just long enough to tug his helmet off, depositing it on the desk before firmly reclaiming her hand and holding it to his jaw.
The contact instantly soothes away the irritated crinkles along his brow. She enjoys the way his eyes sag shut, the way his head angles into the contact as his chest rises for a deep breath. His slow exhale is warm against the exposed skin along her wrist and Shaxx’s thumb lifts the edge of her glove to grant him better access for a soft kiss.
She wills her voice to remain steady as she speaks, "Better?" She manages to crack a smile, her spine straightening as Shaxx kisses her wrist a second time.
"Much, actually," he returns matter of factly, opening his eyes to meet her gaze.
The tension lingers for an instant before the Guardian leans in and Shaxx kisses her, taking his time with each caress. There’s a firmness to his grip, a gentle yet eager grapple at her waist that eases her frame entirely against his own. A manner that allows the Hunter to melt into his touch, let him guide her head to an angle that deepens the kiss.
“I missed you,” she murmurs softly, fingertips tracing along his jawline.
He echoes the sentiment with a harsher kiss, squeezing her hand as tightly as he dares. Shaxx’s office - the world itself - ebbs around them for an instant. Solar sparks against Arc, soothing the ache in her chest until it’s all but nonexistent.
It’s only when the monitor blares with the ending of a match that Shaxx is reluctant to draw back. He squeezes her hand again before reaching for the console. She’s astonished how quickly he gathers himself, how rapidly his mind wraps around the statistics and he hits the commlink with a voice as calm and so very him. It booms above her, the vibrations echoing beneath her temple.
“Zones controlled. Targets eliminated. Nice work.” He shuts off the commlink and her head tilts up as he settles back in his seat. He tucks her hair back, smiling down at her warmly, “What are you staring at?”
She tries a smile as she holds his gaze, but it comes more dazed than she intends, “How do you do that?” Emerald drifts over his features with a sort of admiration, fingers binding themselves around his own as she holds his hand to her cheek.
“Do what, dearest?” He arches a brow curiously, his voice far softer than it had been a minute prior. She loves both; the vibrance - the life - in his voice when he’s enraptured in a match and the tender ease when he speaks to her. An intricate balance that both emboldens and soothes her.
“Switch as if…” she trails off, blinking for a moment before shaking her head, “Never mind.”
“Finish your thought,” he coaxes, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
Her cheeks flush a subtle rose as her eyes drop to his chest, “From…this to Crucible Handler so quickly. I could hardly think after that, but you–”
“Forced practice,” he chuckles softly, “you recall how many times you’ve snuck in here.” She smiles sheepishly, “I still need to do my job, Guardian.”
She snorts, lifting her head, “Am I that much of a distraction, Lord Shaxx?”
“We both know the answer to that, my dearest. Don’t pretend you aren’t aware of it.” His eyes are alight with amusement and in that moment, she believes every word.
It emboldens her to move, shifting to a more upright position. The corners of her lips tug upward in a smirk as she gazes down at him and cradles his face with a playful arch of her brow, “Why don’t you show me just how well you can manage this distraction, Lord Shaxx?”
“With pleasure.”
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