Come back to read about Terra’s dealing with becoming the CO of the Normandy and the Virmire aftermath. Who would know the burden of command as well as she?
Steven had never seen Rea in such a deep red color, but he had to admit, he liked it. Hell, liked it might be the tamest way possible to describe how he felt when he opened his apartment door to find her on the other side, leaned against the frame casually. She had always picked her colors to be bright and cheerful, a bouquet of yellows and oranges that made her look like a glowing star or a fiery sun, the brilliant beautiful center of the universe.
But such a deep, clingy red only made him think of outright sensuality. It mapped her body in a way he’d only seen in his guiltiest of dreams, when he’d peel the clothing from her and worshiped every curve he exposed with hungry reverence. Where they could be close and he would never have to worry about the universe outside of their small world, wrapped in warm sheets and a lover’s haze. Closed in from reality, standing on his doorstep with amber brown eyes waiting for him to say anything. His impressions of her were warring with one another, trying to figure out which side of him wanted to answer: the man who loved and desired her more than anything, or the man who wanted better for her than him.
“I think you need to get some more reliable friends,” she said finally, gently pushing past him to enter his apartment. The floor-length dress flowed softly with each step she took - which he was sure she was exaggerating for his benefit - two long slits teasing glimpses of her powerful legs with each slow stride.
“Don’t tell me you actually got stood up,” he said, trying desperately not to map out the curve of her back with his eyes, exposed by a delicate lace cut-out that ended just above her rear.
“I actually got stood up, believe it or not.” Turning to face him her heels clicked softly across the floor, and she smiled at him again with dark, crimson-painted lips. “You owe me a date, Admiral.”
“I think I’m running out of friends.”
She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t talking about them.””
“Rea-”
“I know what you’re doing, Steven.”
Now he crossed his arms over his chest, feeling it tighten painfully as she took a few steps closer to him. Her eyes never left his face, and he wished to god he could hide from her gaze like he could over vid or text communication. He wished he could deny everything as easily as that, but with her so close it was impossible. Everything about her was too bright and too warm, coaxing like the sun’s rays but just as untouchable. For so many reasons he’d kept his distance and he had been so good about every single one.
He was starting to think that wasn’t an option anymore.
“What am I doing?” he asked quietly.
“Pushing me away. Nosing into my life to set me up with other men?” a few steps closer, and he could smell the vanilla notes of her perfume. “I know I’ve made my feelings about you obvious by now. If you’re not interested, just say so and that will be the end of it.”
He said nothing, so she moved even closer, staring directly into his eyes with a challenging gaze. “Tell me the truth, Steven. I think I deserve that much.”
Silence allowed him to contemplate his next move. It was going to be a wordless gesture, one he was sure was going to regret, but he couldn’t just let the moment pass. He lifted his hands to her face, gently cupping the skin of her cheeks which flushed nearly as dark as her lips at the sudden contact. She drew in a shaky breath as his fingers traced her jaw, the sensations finally stealing her intense gaze from him to close her eyes. She looked almost stunned, like in her wildest dreams she hadn’t expected him to touch her; but the moment passed and her eyes fluttered open again, reconnecting to his gaze with renewed lust and affection.
“The last two years,” he began, “have been hell on me, Rea. You were just gone in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I felt guilt over your death, I felt guilt that I couldn’t do more for your crew and-”
“And?”
“And,” he slid his hands away from her despite how much he didn’t want to. The distance, even so slight felt necessary for what he had to say. “I felt guilt about my feelings for you.” When she knitted her brows together and opened her mouth to question him, he continued. “I’m old, Rea. There’s twenty years between us, two different lifetimes of experiences. Practically worlds apart.”
“Do you think I care about that, Steven?”
“I care. It’s inappropriate for me to feel like this about you Rea, and you know it.”
“Inappropriate, nothing,” she replied, and brought her hands to his face now, mirroring his earlier gesture. Her fingertips were light, mapping the peaks and valleys of his face with a care and affection that blossomed heat in his gut. Her thumb became a wayward traveler, following the line of his scar from cheekbone to lips, and he couldn’t suppress the quiet sound that lodged itself deep in his throat. Touching her had been a short-lived bliss, the image of her sweet face lost in the feeling etched forever in his memory. Her gentle touch over his skin made him feel drunk on her warmth and affection.
“Rea,” he said finally, slowly inhaling a fortifying breath. Her hands still braced his face gently, her eyes seeking his in question. “I love you. But I can’t lose you again.”
I love you. He’d said it, and he meant it with everything he had and was. Every day of the last two years he’d dreamed of being able to say it, to finally confess what he had been hiding for much longer than that. To think it started so long ago, when she’d wormed his way into his heart after Akuze. She had been sweet and charming, sitting at a bar on Arcturus alone, dressed in the bright yellow that had become her trademark color. He couldn’t even recall what they talked about with any accuracy; all he could remember was expecting a hard woman, turned to stone after the horror she’d experienced not long before that. Instead she was vibrant and warm, and he’d left the bar that day vowing to keep an eye on her. For the future.
I saw more than just another soldier in the making.
“Steven,” she said his name on a quiet exhale, using her hands upon his shirt collar to bring him closer. He could see what was coming, but he was far past stopping it, his confession had seen to that. Instead of her lips issuing the same confession with words, they spelled out her affections across his own, connected together in the quiet comfort of a kiss years in the making. Suddenly the years between them, those two horrible years without her didn’t matter to him anymore; the terror of losing her didn’t matter anymore.
Because she was there. Better than any dream he’d had, Steven wrapped his arms around her tightly, unwilling to let go of this perfect reality. Unwilling to let go of the woman he knew he couldn’t live without.
