Have you ever met someone on the internet that you liked so much that you sometimes sit there and think “Oh man there are people who are lucky enough to see this person IN THE FLESH ON A REGULAR BASIS and I wonder if they realize how LUCKY they are”
Abigail Disney has no control or input on the operations of the corporation, she is a Disney heiress and, in that respect, nothing else. She puts her money towards philanthropy, especially women’s movements around the globe and peace organizations like Peace is Loud and the Global Fund for Women. She is a documentary filmmaker who explores these themes as well.
There are problematic family investments she earns money from that, legally, she cannot divest from. Instead, she donates these profits to charities that counter to those investments.
And because she isn’t asleep she doesn’t glimpse the flicker of his eyes. She has to imagine it – the quiet assessing that sees right through her even in their dreams, those things made of light and hope and nightmares. He always sees right past all that bluster.
That’s how it works between them.
Or, the one in which Jaz builds homes, Adam comes home, and they ask if its fate.
Tish ever have a nightmare Jon has to help her through? or vice versa?
Jon:
When I OD’d on Vertigo, the walls ran with blood, and Joseph Risdon stepped out of the shadows. He insinuated himself between me and the girls, and he told me everything he planned to do to them after he killed me. I ended up screaming on the floor while Dad and McGinnis restrained me.
I won’t call it the most humiliating experience of my life, because of that one time a girl locked me out of her dorm room naked. But I still can’t think about it without cringing.
The first night afterward, I woke up alone.
The bed was a rumpled mess, and the apartment felt wrong. It wasn’t just the quiet of two o’clock in the morning, but actual silence. I glanced in the bathroom - dark and empty. The door creaked too loudly. My breathing and my heartbeat were too loud, and so was every step going down the hall.
In the kitchen, I found Tish. She was adjusting the flame under the kettle.
I tried a casual lean in the doorway. “Hey, everything ok?”
She startled, and then her expression softened considerably. I must have looked as pathetic as I felt. “Everything’s fine. Do you want some chamomile?”
It was a reason to hang around. “Sure.”
I sank into a chair at the kitchen table, and I watched her fool with loose tea and mesh balls and little bottles from the spice rack. After the kettle whistled and she set two mugs to steep, she came and sat in my lap.
“Honey or sugar?” she said in my ear.
“Surprise me.”
“I won’t disappear on you again.”
“I’m not a teacup poodle with separation anxiety.”
“Mm-mm.” She pressed a kiss to my neck. Sucked on the pulse point. Somehow it didn’t feel sexual, despite how many times it had been her opening move for dirty, sweaty banging. It felt like reassurance, taken and given.
I found out later that I had bruised her, lashing out in my sleep.
The Vertigo hangover lasted a week. When I closed my eyes, I saw all kinds of crazy shit. Dead men unmelting from the floor with red, pulpy faces. Dad running me through with the sword that killed Ra’s al Ghul. Abby screaming in a room I couldn’t find, no matter how many hallways I ran down.
Dear @stupid-jeans @sydbond @gentlesquid-andink @undercoverwatermoon @icarryyourheart16 @chibisere23 @kyrieanne This is me for every single fic you write.
So, this took me an embarrassingly long time to finish, but it's finally done!
It is set a couple of months after Chapter 6, and an indefinite amount of time before @stupid-jeans ‘s Chapter 8.
Also, it references Chapter 6 quite a bit (Cassiopeia by @kyrieanne ), so you may want to refresh your memory before reading this part.
THANK YOU, as always, to #TheFab5 (@stupid-jeans, @icarryyourheart16 @kyrieanne and @chibisere23 ) for listening to my endless ramblings about this chapter, and for talking me off the ledge when I wanted to KEEP editing :)
You guys are the best!
Okay. Enjoy!
AO3 Link HERE
Jaz puts down the pen with a frustrated sigh. At first glance, the long list of ideas on the lined notebook page seems impressive. Until you start reading. Personalized socks is idea number four - damn QVC.com - and it’s all downhill from there.
“Lame,” she whispers, resigned. In three weeks, Adam will turn 38, and while Jaz is determined to find him the perfect present, she keeps coming up empty.
It’s not the first time she’s wanted to do this, but the familiar voice in her head that worries about propriety, and Army rules, and the inevitable vulnerability often involved in gift-giving has always held her back.
But things are different now.
The moment she’d laid eyes on that Cassiopeia dog tag Adam keeps around his neck, Jaz had felt the proverbial changing of the tide between them. Skimming her fingertip over the metal, still warm from his body heat, it had taken all her sniper discipline to contain her emotions as he’d admitted to needing her.
Her. Never in a million years would she have imagined this magnetic pull between them could exist, much less grow into this undeniably deep connection, impossible to ignore. In reality, they are far from being a thing of any sort -and Jaz has made peace with the fact their careers make that an impossibility- but they are not just friends either. Not anymore.
So she finds herself up at dawn, sitting cross-legged on the outdoor picnic with pen and paper in hand, furiously mulling over all possible gift ideas as the sun rises on the Turkish sky.
Every year since Adam’s been the team’s CO - even before Jaz’s arrival- the team has pitched in to get him a birthday gift. The same one each time, because Adam is impossible to shop for and even perfect, gift-finder Preach balks at the thought.
“Look, the Army already issues everything he loves,” Preach explains when Jaz awkwardly approaches him one morning, coffee-stained paper in hand.
“Everything?” Jaz asks, averting her eyes involuntarily. Damn it, she didn’t mean it to sound like that.
Preach wipes the last cereal bowl dry, then turns fully towards her with an affectionate smile. “I meant things he loves, that you can buy. You know, with money--”
“Alright, alright. I get it,” Jaz sputters with a nervous laugh already backing away, one hand up in surrender while the other fists around the paper, crushing it into a little ball of bad ideas. Without looking, she nails the shot into the trash bin, and disappears through the plastic curtains.
Preach chuckles, watching her retreat. There’s no way she’s giving up that easy.
_______________________________
A week later they decide on the amount, and everyone PayPals Preach, who will make the donation in Adam’s name to Vital Warrior, as tradition dictates. The printed receipt will be folded neatly into a manly royal blue envelope that will also contain the thoughtful birthday card Amir will select. The outside will read Happy Birthday, Top in respectable sharpie black and McG’s perfect handwriting.
To complete the annual ritual, Jaz will make a reservation at that Adana restaurant Adam says he loves. They will pretend not to notice the four baskets of complimentary bread he eats, and will hide their smirks when he requests a to-go box for the entree he orders. The guys will forget about it as the rounds of celebratory shots cause the usual havoc, but Jaz knows he’ll feed it to Patton in the middle of the night when he thinks everyone’s sleeping.
Smiling, she picks up the phone and dials. A minute later, she confirms the reservation time and thanks the hostess in perfect Turkish.
“Evet. 19:00. Teşekkür ederim.”
“What’s at 1900?” Adam asks, walking into the living area. Jaz folds her legs under her and leans against the corner of the couch, wearing one of his gray Army t-shirts. It’s been two months now since they’ve settled into this routine- Jaz wears one of his t-shirts until his scent on it fades, then they switch.
“Oh, just your birthday dinner reservation. Not every day you turn the big 4-0,” Jaz says, smirking as Adam rolls his eyes.
“38,” he corrects, but smiles as he takes a seat in the middle cushion and leans back.
“Riiiight,” Jaz drawls, then chuckles. “Oh, come on, it’s a little bit annoying. Admit it, old man.”
Adam shakes his head, amused. “Same place?”
“Yep. Elem Restoran.”
“Good. I love their food.” Jaz holds back the scoff somehow, nodding as she studies his profile.
Strawberry poptarts and the romance paperbacks he picks out for her -with help from his sisters she assumes- are also part of their new routine.
But then there’s this. Quiet moments on the couch, talking, smiling, teasing. It’s so easy and unlike anything Jaz has experienced before -in or out of the Army- yet it all feels normal somehow. Natural. Like it was always meant to be this way.
There’s a fleeting moment of regret, as her subconscious reminds her of their reality, the hard limits it imposes between them. Still, she can’t recall ever feeling so at peace with her job, her team, her life. Adam is a huge part of that - maybe the biggest part- and if friendship is all they can have, Jaz wants to embrace every second of it.
So maybe, this year she’ll join him instead of hiding in the shadows as Patton scarfs down the leftover birthday meal. Maybe this year--
“What?” Adam asks, noticing the faraway look in her eyes.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”
“I bet you are,” Adam teases, angling his head toward the half-open book in her hands with a knowing look. There’s no half-naked torso on the cover, but Hidden Desires of the Heart is written in hot pink cursive, and that’s all he needs to confirm the cause of her distracted state.
Jaz follows his gaze, then nods. “Oh, yeah. This one’s really good,” she mumbles, grateful for the cover.
The crinkles around his eyes deepen as his smile widens, and her fingertips itch to reach out, trace the lines there, so she jumps to her feet instead.
“Here.” Jaz folds the corner of a page, drops the paperback on Adam’s lap. “You know you want to.”
Adam smirks at her retreating back, watches her pony tail swing playfully. “Oh, what the hell.”
Settling in, he turns to page one.
No man would ever mistake Kathleen Nicole Stolfield for a damsel in distress...
__________________________________
Minutes stretch into hours with few signs of movement around their target. It’s a typical summer evening in Cairo, hot and humid, yet bearable. Reaching into the backseat of the heavily tinted Mercedes sedan, Adam retrieves two water bottles from the small cooler.
“Thanks,” Jaz says from the passenger seat, twisting the cap open.
A middle aged man, oddly wearing a Yankees baseball hat paired with a dark suit, exits the building they’re surveilling. Jaz takes pictures, and Adam speaks into his comms until Noah stops asking questions.
As far as recon missions go, this is an uneventful one. Preach, McG and Amir are positioned strategically within a reasonable radius. They always have plans for plans, but no real trouble is expected tonight.
“You’re staring,” Jaz says plainly, snapping one last picture as the subject walks around the corner and out of sight.
“Am not.” Damn her ninja senses. Jaz turns toward him, raises a challenging eyebrow. “Okay. Maybe a little,” Adam relents.
“Out with it, Top.”
“It’s nothing. Never mind.”
Jaz tilts her head now, curious. “Oh, come on. Yankees hat guy was the last one out of the building, so we’re stuck here for another five hours, at least. I’ll just keep asking until you fold. And you will.”
Adam looks down, shakes his head once. “I was wondering about the book you’re reading.”
Jaz turns in her seat, expectant. Adam occasionally reading her novels is their little secret -or one of the many on the growing list- and they never discuss them. God forbid McG or Amir overhear, and uncover Adam’s penchant for happy-ever-afters. Preach though, Jaz has a feeling he wouldn’t bat an eye.
“What about it?”
“Before DC called, I caught up to the page you marked. Read past it to Chapter 3, actually.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jaz points a finger in warning. “No spoilers.”
“Promise,” Adam raises his hands in mock surrender before continuing. “You, um, said it was really good.”
Jaz swallows. Damn it. “Yeah, sure.”
“What do you like about it?”
Jaz is thankful for the dim lighting to mask the flush spreading on her cheeks. Truth is, the storyline is not her favorite. It’s sloppy, and contradictive, and she’d tolerated the first two chapters hoping it’d improve.
Then Adam had strolled in, and she’d gotten so distracted thinking about him that she’d used the book as cover for her wandering mind. Still, while the story won’t be winning a Pulitzer, it’s not the worst thing she’s ever read.
“I like Kathleen’s character. She’s strong, knows what she wants...doesn’t take shit from anyone.”
Adam nods, turns his head to do a quick sweep over the building across the street.
“Yeah, I got that. What about how they meet though? Kathleen and Phillip?” Adam asks casually as he scribbles something -presumably mission related- on the tiny notepad he carries in his pocket, trying to keep the conversation light.
Competent, smart Kathleen ending up stranded, kidnapped, and rescued by the handsome ex-Marine isn’t something he’d expect a badass sniper to gravitate towards. But it’s Jaz, and he’s not surprised, because her unapologetic love for cheesy, cliché romance cannot be overstated. Still, something about Kathleen and Phillip’s story had her lost in thought in the middle of the day, and he’s been dying to find out what.
Adam steals a glance at Jaz just in time to see her eyes roll, but she stops right before speaking, narrows her eyes.
“Wait,” she says, leaning in towards him. “You didn’t expect me to like that part, did you? How they meet?”
Adam shrugs. “You said you did.”
Honestly, he has no clue what he expected. Jaz is like a puzzle to him, with enough pieces in place to get the idea, but too many still missing to see the bigger picture.
“But you didn't think I would? Because Kathleen gets rescued by Phillip?” Jaz prods.
“I don’t know,” he pauses, one hand instinctively scratching at his beard. “It’s just very different from the other novels you’ve read recently.”
Jaz grins. “You mean, we.”
Adam chuckles, and Jaz can’t see it in the darkness, but she knows the tips of his ears are tinged red. Good, she thinks. Because keeping him off balance is her only shot at getting out of this without an outright lie.
“Anyway, what does it matter? It’s just a story, Top. A distraction. Like those constellation stories you love so much.”
The attempt at deflection is clear as day, but he takes it in stride. It’s true they have a long history of meaningful car conversations, but they’ve also been teetering on the edge of friendship and something more - a lotmore actually- and the frailty of it all makes Adam wary to push.
“Are you seriously trying to compare ancient Greek mythology to a $7.99 paperback novel?”
Jaz laughs at his pretend wounded expression. “Oh, come on. It’s all the same. What’s that story about some helpless girl rescued after being chained to a rock?”
“Andromeda,” Adam answers, and Jaz bites back a smile at the wistfulness in his voice.
“Right. Well, Kathleen was handcuffed in the back of a stranger’s car when Phillip swooped in and saved her. Practically the same story. I rest my case.”
Adam considers that for a moment, takes in her triumphant expression, then sighs dramatically in defeat as he leans the driver’s seat back.
Staring up at the night sky through the open moonroof, he raises his arm and points.
“There,” he says, waits as Jaz mirrors his movement on the passenger side, “right below Cassiopeia. It’s not as bright, but that’s Perseus, son of Zeus.”
Adam shifts into storytelling mode, and not for the first time, she wishes they were just two people enjoying a quiet night under the stars, instead of two career soldiers toeing a dangerous line. That they didn’t have to settle for stolen moments in stake-out cars, or hidden truck bed compartments. That surviving yet another dangerous mission wasn’t the only reason for heart-to-heart talks around a fire.
“Perseus. What’s his story?” she asks finally, because maybe none of this is ideal, but this reality -the job, the rules, the danger- it’s all part of whatever grand plan brought Adam Dalton into her life. So, however long this moment lasts, however imperfect, she’ll take it.
“On his way back from cutting off Medusa’s head, he saw Andromeda chained to a rock.”
“And he saved her.”
“Yeah.” And then married her, Adam thinks, fighting the urge to bring a hand to his chest, feel Cassiopeia resting against his heart.
Jaz takes it all in, enjoying the comfortable silence. She thinks of Andromeda, chained and awaiting death, and it’s not surprising when her mind flashes back to Iran, to that white room where she’d learned to make peace with fate. The parallels are too obvious to completely ignore, but her mind doesn’t linger on those memories tonight. Instead, her thoughts turn to Perseus, and...Adam.
“Maybe we all need rescuing sometime,” Jaz murmurs. Then, so softly that he almost misses it, “I did.”
Adam turns his head at that, finds her eyes already on him, and there’s an endless moment where no words are spoken, yet everything that matters is said.
The comms crackle to life. Reality calls.
_______________________
Jaz types “Perseus” on the google search bar and bites her lip. It’s the first time she dives into the world of Greek mythology, and while she tells herself it’s simply out of curiosity, deep down she knows the real reason.
It’s why she’s spent three weeks agonizing over the perfect birthday gift; why she smiles when a ridiculous number of army shirts tumble out of her basket on laundry day; why her workout playlist is sprinkled with country songs she never thought she’d love, and why she’s been eating her weight in strawberry poptarts.
Slowly, Adam Dalton has been seeping into her life -filling in some of the cracks- and in the process, this want she’s always buried in rationalizations has started bubbling to the surface, growing stronger and deeper every night Adam’s scent on a t-shirt lulls her to sleep.
For over three years, that invisible thread that’s connected them from day one -the magnetic pull neither would acknowledge, much less try to understand- has quietly strengthened. And now after Elijah, and Iran...now she realizes that thread is made of solid steel, unbreakable. How does she even begin to rationalize that?
Perseus stares back at her on the iPad screen, fierce and bold and larger than life, and it strikes her that in spite of being a demigod and a decorated warrior, he didn’t defeat Medusa by charging in only with brute force. Methodically, Perseus had gone about making his plans, taking advice from the Gods, gathering the tools he needed.
Perseus was more than a warrior, Jaz thinks. He was a master tactician, a protector, and he’d taken on Medusa because a ruthless King had asked for the monster’s head in exchange for his mother’s freedom.
Jaz devours the details, and as she reads, a picture of Adam blooms in her mind, unbidden.
A stream of nervous energy bubbles up as the images in her head threaten to become concrete thoughts -the kind she’ll have to label and compartmentalize if she lets them fully form- so she taps the back button a little desperately on the screen, hoping to escape this web of introspection she’s inadvertently trapped herself in.
There’s a wave of relief when the page loads, but instead of hitting the “x” at the top, her fingertip hovers over the second google search result: Perseus and Andromeda.
Maybe it’s the wistfulness she remembers in Adam’s voice that makes her tap on the link -or maybe it’s a lot more than that- but whatever the reason, Jaz finds herself scrolling down the page.
It’s just a story,she’d said to him that evening in Cairo, but as her eyes settle on a 1510 renaissance painting of the Andromeda rescue, she finds herself whispering the words out loud like a mantra.
The tale unfolds as she reads, with Perseus turning the sea monster to stone, freeing Andromeda from the chains, and then that picture of Adam that’s been floating around in her brain becomes one of them.
There is no universe in which she’d consider herself a damsel in distress -even that white room in Tehran hadn’t been powerful enough to make her feel like one- but Jaz is also certain now that in all the ways that matter, Adam Dalton is her Perseus, and as she finally stops running from that truth, it dawns on her: that perfect gift she’s been searching for? This is it.
The last paragraph starts with Perseus asking King Cepheus for Andromeda’s hand, and continues on about their happy marriage, the nine children, and the kingdom they founded and ruled until they were placed next to each other in the night sky.
“A happy ever after,” Jaz whispers, and smiles.
_______________________
Adam’s birthday dinner is a success. The private, large booth in the back corner is the perfect setup, and the food and drinks and laughs have their intended effect. It’s almost midnight when a relaxed omega team, drunkenly laughing about surviving Amir’s driving, tumbles out of the SUV when they reach the Quonset hut.
Three hours later, the faint rustling sounds from the living area make Jaz sit up straighter in bed, listening. Yes, that’s definitely Top, she thinks. Smiling, she folds the corner of the page she’s re-read five times and closes the book.
Jaz opens her door, then moves quietly through the hallway, stopping a couple of feet before reaching the threshold to the kitchen area.
Adam stands there in a blue t-shirt, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest. The microwave light is on, and a plate spins slowly inside. The smell reaches her hiding spot in the hallway, and Jaz quietly chuckles because it’s definitely the leftover chicken dish he’d ordered at the restaurant.
Patton is laying on the floor in front of him, and she watches as Adam pushes the stop button before the microwave starts beeping, not wanting to wake up half the team. Taking out the plate, he walks toward the couch, and a minute later she can hear Patton scarfing down the contents as Adam takes a seat.
It occurs to her that she doesn’t know how long he’s planning on being up, so if she really wants to do this tonight -the birthday gift and whatever else may come with that- she shouldn’t waste time. Not wanting to startle him, she walks back to her bedroom and closes the door, just loud enough for him to realize someone’s up.
“Can’t sleep?” Adam whispers when Jaz is a few feet away, and she hides a smirk when his eyes stray to take in the gray army shirt that swallows her frame.
Nodding, she takes a seat next to him. “You?”
“Same. Ominous way to start my 40’s, right?” Adam jokes, and she huffs out a laugh. Patton walks over and plops his head on her lap, and Jaz scratches behind his ears.
“Good boy, Patton,” she baby-talks, then leans down closer. “What’s that? You loved the Tavuk Guvec Top just fed you?”
Adam offers a guilty smile. “Oh, you know. I just…” he trails off with a helpless shrug, and Jaz twists her lips into a smile.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell the guys you only pretend to like that restaurant.”
Adam narrows his eyes. “What’s that going to cost me?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something,” Jaz says playfully, then gives Patton a final pat before he walks back to curl up on his favorite chair.
The silence stretches between them, and Jaz closes her eyes briefly to take a deep, steadying breath. It’s now or never.
“I, uh, have something for you,” she rushes the words out as she jumps off the couch, mildly afraid of losing her nerve.
Walking over to the cage across the room, Jaz zips open one of her field bags, then pulls out a small, silver-wrapped box. Adam just sits there, watching her curiously.
“What? It’s the only place I knew McG wouldn’t snoop,” Jaz loud-whispers as she returns to her spot on the couch and sits down, shoulder to shoulder with Adam.
Another deep breath, and she turns toward him, extending her hand out to him. Adam’s fingers brush over hers as he wraps a hand around the present, and Jaz lets go with a soft exhale.
“Happy Birthday.”
Adam grins, gives the box a little shake. “Not ammo, huh?”
“It was number two on my list,” Jaz deadpans, and Adam stifles a laugh as he pulls on the black ribbon surrounding the striped wrapping paper. “I mean, Preach did say the Army issues everything you love, so maybe I should have gotten you ammo instead,” she chuckles, eyes darting a bit nervously around the room.
Adam’s hands still around the half-unwrapped box, Preach’s words sinking in, and it surprises him that Jaz would repeat them so casually. It’s true they’re nowhere near ready to make any declarations -and even if they were, god, she deserves more than a rushed admission with the Army’s code of conduct hanging over their heads.
Still, he thinks of the last few months- the novels, the evenings under the stars, their talks around the fire, the shirts she wears to feel safe -his shirts. He’s been so sure all of it means they’re on the same page, but are they?
When she doesn’t hear the expected sounds of gift unwrapping, Jaz looks at Adam’s idle fingers, then up into his eyes, questioning.
“Are you going to open it?” she asks, clearly oblivious to the thoughts swirling in his mind now.
It takes him a few seconds, but he lets it go, because Jaz is looking at him with barely contained excitement, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this moment with half-baked thoughts and his own insecurities.
So he smiles, and focuses back on the task at hand.
When he lifts the top of the box, the new leather smell fills the air, and he takes in the rich, dark brown wallet inside. Carefully, he runs his index finger over the front, slowing his movements when he notices the tastefully engraved initials on the bottom right.
“Look inside,” Jaz says softly, her stomach knotting in anticipation as she watches him flip the wallet open.
When Adam only stares, Jaz figures he can’t see the subtly imprinted symbol in the dim light.
“There, on the right. It’s--”
“--Perseus.”
Adam traces each tiny circle etched on the smooth leather with his thumb. “This is…” speechless, he looks up and holds her gaze, unblinking.
Jaz looks away first, swallows. “It reminds me of you. Perseus, I mean. Not just because you’ve literally saved me, but…because my life has been different, better, since the day we met.”
“Jaz--” he attempts, but the words die on his tongue once again.
In the back of that minivan, driving back from YumurtalIk, he’d been brave enough to show her the Cassiopeia dog tag around his neck, and had struggled trying to explain. A bright smile had been her answer then, but tonight she wants to give him more than that.
“This past year... it was rough. And if you hadn’t been there for me, I don’t--” her voice breaks then, and Adam reaches out, covers her clasped hands with his large one. Jaz stares at the ceiling as she takes a deep breath, gathers enough courage to hold his gaze, and hopes her eyes spell the truth she can’t risk verbalizing yet.
“You are…so important. To me. I wanted—I need you to know that.”
It’s Adam who smiles wide at her this time, and all the circumstances, the job, the rules -the unfair reality she rails against so often in her head- it all just fades away.
Those deep, blue eyes are suspiciously shiny and focused entirely on her, and before she can process what is happening, Adam crushes her hard against his chest. A strong hand cradles her head, and the other winds around her waist, and Jaz is powerless against the overwhelming need to press her nose into the hollow of his neck.
“Thank you,” he whispers against her hair, and she barely manages a nod because being wrapped up in Adam Dalton is no ordinary thing, and all she wants is to memorize this moment, the warmth of his body engulfing hers, the heady scent of him lacing each breath she takes.
Adam isn’t sure how much time passes, but then he feels Jaz’s hands move where they’re twined together against his chest, and he reluctantly loosens his hold, giving her room to move away.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she reaches out a shaky finger, traces the shape of the dog tags under his shirt.
“Hey,” Adam’s hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her movements, and his breath is warm against her temple when he speaks. “What Preach said? He’s wrong. You know that, right?”
Jaz looks up through thick lashes then, lips slightly parted in surprise, and the overwhelming need to kiss her is so powerful that holding back causes him physical pain. Still, he knows he can’t. They can’t. Not like this.
“I know,” Jaz finally manages, an understanding smile gracing her lips, and Adam reaches out, tucks lose strands of hair behind her ear, then lets his thumb linger for a long second over her cheek.
“We should get some sleep,” he says, regret clear in his voice.
Jaz nods, but her throat is dry, and her hand lightly trembles where it rests over his sternum, so Adam gives her wrist a final squeeze, then lets her go.
They walk in silence along the hallway, turning away from each other as they reach their respective doors. Jaz takes a deep breath, wondering how she’ll sleep when every nerve in her body’s still on fire, and then suddenly Adam is right there behind her.
She turns, but it’s too dark to see, so she tries to slow her breaths, and waits. The tension is almost palpable, and she’s about to speak when his calloused hands come up to her face. Adam sighs, slides his fingers into her hair, then places an almost reverent kiss on her forehead.
It lasts a second, or an hour, Jaz can’t be sure, but before she can get her bearings, Adam’s gone.
The door closes behind her, and a million thoughts swirl in her head, the thrill of barely contained desire still vibrates along her skin, but in her heart, Jaz is at peace.
fight just a little ch7 (Hannah Rivera/Cassie Conner)
Over on AO3
Notes/Summary: The aftermath of Iran is a little much for Hannah. Thankfully, she knows just who to call.
Thanks for hanging out with us a bit while we frolicked off doing other things haha. There are still two more chapters of this written and not yet posted (not including this one) but we’ve taken a short break from writing it so updates have slowed down too.
A really big bulk of this chapter is NSFW. There are also a lot of feelings.
Thanks as always to @undercoverwatermoon for the beta, and to the rest of thefab5 ( @chibisere23 @kyrieanne ) for existing and being wonderful.
The biggest thanks, of course, to @icarryyourheart16, for embarking on this and any other crazy project with me, and for being my brain twin, and and and.
It’s less than 48 hours between waking up in Cassie’s arms and listening to Jaz get taken. Hannah’s settled into her job now, she’s settled into her relationship with Cassie, but this she’s not prepared for.
Unlike the team being in Mongolia, Hannah doesn’t have five minutes to take a breath. She barely eats, barely leaves her desk. It’s torture. Nothing like what she imagines Jaz is going through, but, God, it fucks with her head.
dededos
blakekathryn
2087
vaporwave
kaledo-art
andulkaphoto
jacobvanloon
