Chapter Text
The last two days before their departure are spent studiously avoiding one another save for talking logistics. Chloe throws cold-weather gear at her, complaining about how she couldn’t find a red parka to save her life, and they pore over maps and scans of historical texts, charting the alleged path of Leif Erikson’s alleged treasure.
Despite the day prior’s tension, they fall back into a companionable rhythm, mapping out their route (Iceland first, to finalize the historical background, then Greenland to track down the actual treasure, purportedly gold from Erikson’s expedition to current-day Newfoundland). The lore of it all doesn’t really hold Nadine’s interest, but Chloe delights in the people behind her finds, the drama and bloodlust of Erik the Red, how a family history of exile became one of exploration.
In another life, Chloe would’ve been a professor. (Or maybe an actress— there’s a mesmerizing quality to her storytelling; Nadine sometimes feels like she ought to pay admission for the privilege of watching her narration.)
But in this one, she’s a thief, so she sorts the fantastical legends and plausible treasure locations while Nadine lines up the practical things: snowmobiles, icepicks, guns once they get to Cape Farewell, MREs.
Nadine risks a peace offering, bringing Chloe coffee in bed in the morning before they head out for their flight.
“Wow, never had room service here. Finally living in the lap of luxury and you’re making me leave?”
“Well if you’re not caffeinated you’ll never get out the door,” Nadine jokes.
Chloe props herself up on an elbow to take a sip from the mug. The collar of her t-shirt is askew, revealing a taut shoulder and graceful collarbone.
Nadine forgets how to form words for a moment, before remembering her purpose for coming in the room in the first place.
“I um… I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I let my own issues spill onto you and that’s not fair.”
Chloe pushes her bangs aside (after trying, unsuccessfully, to blow them out of her face) and meets Nadine’s gaze.
“Water under the bridge, alright? Think we were a bit overdue for a quarrel to be honest.”
“Still…” Nadine sighs. “I don’t think you’re... “
Chloe smirks.
“A loose woman of ill repute?”
“Oh, no, you’re definitely that,” Nadine laughs. “But you have my respect. In all ways. And I didn’t want you to think otherwise.”
Chloe shrugs, hoisting herself into an upright sitting position.
“Just means I’m entitled to backslide a bit into being a selfish dickhead again as retribution. I’m okay with that, china.”
Nadine rolls her eyes and tries to avoid looking at Chloe’s bare legs too obviously.
(It’s a paltry silver lining to an arctic expedition: no cause for getting distracted by Chloe’s body when they’re wearing half a dozen layers.)
_
They take a commercial flight to Reykjavik; Chloe snoozes a little on Nadine’s shoulder and the flight attendant smiles warmly at her.
“We get a lot of newlyweds on this route, but you two might be the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.”
Nadine coughs so hard she wakes Chloe, but manages to eke out a polite “thanks” to the well-meaning woman.
Chloe has the nerve to look affronted at the interruption to her cat nap.
Nadine sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“What did you tell them?”
Chloe grins devilishly.
“That we’re on our honeymoon, love, I hear Iceland is incredibly romantic this time of year.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, all of a sudden you don’t believe in having a good cover story?”
“Yeah, well it’s got to be believable.”
“Please. We look amazing together. And we already bicker like we’ve been together fifty years!”
“Sure, but you? Married? Would never pass the sniff test.”
“Tell that to the honeymoon suite I booked us.”
“Chloe, we’re supposed to make money on this trip.”
“Have a little faith in me, sweetheart. Private buyer this time, no armies or mercenaries blocking our path, except for a minor risk of frostbite it’s in and out, yeah? Might as well have a big old bed to sleep in at the end of it all.”
Nadine abandons the argument and Chloe resumes using her as a pillow.
_
When they land in Iceland, they split up for a bit– Chloe goes to meet some professor who specializes in the sagas that told of Leif Erikson’s discoveries, Nadine touches base with her contacts to make sure they’re good to go for the hard part of the trip (namely, taking a tiny plane to Greenland, traveling inland to the ice sheet, and navigating the barren wasteland to find the heretofore unsubstantiated treasure).
It’s evening when Chloe meets her at a small cafe, insisting they get a good meal in before resigning themselves to a few days of nutrient-dense and flavor-light fare.
“Dr. Guðmundsdóttir basically said that everyone pretty much accepted the allusions to treasure in the Sagas were exaggerations, and no one’s ever been stupid enough to go far enough inland to search for them.”
“So, either we’re lucky, or idiotic.”
“Listen, babe, I’m gonna get lucky one way or another, mark my words.”
“What about what Drake was saying, about white supremacists?”
“Oh, right, yeah, the only other people foolhardy enough to look for this shit are a bunch of nazi metalheads who associate paganism with toxic masculinity and racism. Truly awful music, I unfortunately did a bit of research there.”
“Thanks for sparing me from that.”
“Honestly, the sacrifices I make in silence are incredible. Anyway, one of the symbols we’re looking for, the Valknut, is very popular with these fellas; they think the treasure is tied to some sort of power, and will draw people into their movement.”
“So if we happen to run into them we beat their asses?”
“Precisely,” Chloe laughs. “They’re probably armed, but not disciplined. We’ve got the tactical advantage even if we’re outnumbered. God it’ll feel good to steal that gold right from under their noses.”
They finish their food, and Nadine feels warm and tired and happy.
Chloe drives them to the hotel, catching Nadine’s glance in her peripheral vision as they navigate the streets of Reykjavik.
“Feels good to be back at it, yeah?”
“Ja,” Nadine nods, noting how her body feels more settled than it has in weeks, even if they’re on the precipice of potential danger. Whatever else about their relationship that confuses her, she can’t deny that she and Chloe work very well together.
When they finally check into the hotel, Chloe hams it up for the receptionist, spinning a yarn about their absolutely beautiful wedding ceremony, and how Nadine really deserved a break from her taxing job as an accountant and they were just so looking forward to their stay.
“An accountant, really?” Nadine scoffs as she carries both of their bags into the elevator.
“An accountant who’s passionate about weightlifting in her spare time! Had to think of some boring job to explain the stick up your bum.”
“And what do you do for a living in this scenario? How did we meet?”
“Yoga teacher. You saw me in the gym and it was love at first sight.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Nadine rolls her eyes, as if she’s never imagined meeting Chloe under different (normal) circumstances.
(She has. It’s better than counting sheep, most nights.)
Chloe unlocks the door to their room, letting out a low whistle as she takes in the king-size bed.
“God, I think it’s bigger than my entire flat.”
“Good to know you won’t be able to kick me in your sleep.”
“Is that a challenge? Sounded like a challenge.”
Chloe’s voice is muffled by the fabric of her shirt coming up over her head (she’s already half undressed and headed for the shower, because of course she is.)
Nadine lays out her things for the next day, prepares herself mentally. Half of her wants to say to hell with the treasure, they can stay in this stupidly expensive room and eat room service and pretend they’re fucking newlyweds for three days, then go back to real life, whatever that is, but she knows that Chloe’s reckless love of adventure is why she’s here in the first place, pining.
Chloe comes out of the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel, oversized red t-shirt and nothing else on.
Nadine takes her place, scrubs away the day until her skin feels squeaky to the touch and the water begins to run lukewarm.
She takes her time afterwards, moisturizing her skin and wrapping her hair. Compensating for the arid cold, sure, but also buying herself some extra minutes, hoping that Chloe will be asleep, or at least under the covers, that she won’t have to work so hard not to break the magic bubble of being on a job again.
Chloe opens one eye lazily when she walks back into the bedroom, clad in old, worn sweatpants and a tank top. There’s one lamp left on to guide her way, and in its soft glow, Nadine sees the faint creases around Chloe’s eyes, the markers of the handful of years she has on Nadine.
“I like you like this,” Chloe mumbles, reaching out a hand to touch Nadine’s bare arm, rubbing in a spot of lotion she missed, inhaling the scent of shea butter.
“Like what?”
“Gentle,” Chloe yawns, patting the bed beside her. “Feels like a little secret I get to keep.”
_
Everything about the first day of the expedition goes swimmingly, which maybe should’ve been an indication that things were going to take a turn. Charter flight to Greenland: check. Using a compass to traverse the ice shelf and navigate towards the location of the treasure site: check. Even camping out in dangerously cold temperatures is fine, actually, with the best of modern technology.
Day two, using the short amount of daylight (why didn’t they do this in summer? Chloe’s got some explaining to do), they find the natural formations that evoke the Valknut, and trigger ye old hidden passage into the side of a glacier (made slightly more difficult by the passage of a millenium and the advent of catastrophic climate change, but it wouldn’t be fun if it were easy, would it?) and happy day, they’re the only one’s there.
In fact, it’s a real quick in-and-out to grab the gold, no real labyrinths or riddles once inside, just a few hollowed out rooms inside the glacier and some sculptures depicting Norse gods. But once they begin their exit, a group of a dozen angry men pull up to their location, revving their snowmobiles unnecessarily and aiming their guns.
The other thing about the whole straight-forward-ice-chamber thing is there aren’t many places to hide.
Wordlessly, they opt to feign surrender, hands in the air as the group approaches.
“Listen, fellas, let’s work this out,” Chloe opens with, because she’s not yet been in a situation she couldn’t talk herself out of.
“You’ve got something that belongs to us,” the man who appears to be the leader snarls. “The greatness of the vikings will return.”
“God, these men and their dynasties,” Chloe whispers through the corner of her mouth.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” He shuffles his gun from hand to hand (awful trigger discipline, Nadine notes), and his lackeys follow suit.
Yeah. Fuck this shit.
“I don’t reason with fascists,” Nadine shouts, lunging forward and disarming him with one hand, unholstering her pistol with the other and taking down 4 of the other men. Chloe fires off 6 perfect shots in rapid succession. The disarmed man looks at Chloe as she reloads.
“It’s not too late for you to join us, embrace the power of a pure future.”
“Sorry mate, I’m half-Indian, and you can get fucked,” Chloe retorts, before shooting him right in the heart.
There’s now only one man left, clearly outnumbered and outgunned, who looks at Nadine with pure hatred in his eyes.
He glances between Nadine and Chloe for a split second, gauging his next move, before lunging towards Chloe, his movement displaying the sharp glint of a knife.
Time freezes.
The thing about mercenaries— they don’t, as a rule, glorify sacrifice.
Nadine had considered herself a good leader, all in all, but she never would’ve taken a bullet for her men. A job is a job, not a raison d’etre.
She jumps in front of the knife, redirecting the blow so it slices across her shoulder instead of plunging into Chloe’s chest.
As she takes the guy down, Chloe gets the headshot.
(They really do work well as a team.)
It occurs to Nadine after a moment that: a)her many layers of outerwear now have a hole in the upper arm and b)that hole is bleeding quite a lot, actually.
Chloe notices it too, when she steps away from the body; it keeps flowing out onto the ground, unlike the spatter that covers the rest of her clothing.
“Shit! Nadine! What the hell were you thinking?” Chloe takes off her parka and sheds one of her underlayers, turning it into a makeshift bandage, pinning Nadine to the ground with her legs and applying firm pressure to the wound.
“Not quite the way I imagined you’d be straddling me,” she hisses through clenched teeth, suddenly very aware of the pain of having a knife cut through several layers of skin and probably a bit of muscle too.
“Yeah, well, you know, I didn’t factor in knives when planning this trip. I was going to get us a payday, take you to see the Northern Lights, tell you how I feel about you, properly, and god willing, it’d all end in a bit of hotel sex.”
“Hotel sex? Really?”
“Honestly, Nadine, if you don’t appreciate the joy of hotel sex, maybe it’s better off that this trip went fully sideways.”
“Go back.” Nadine’s feeling a touch woozy, but she’s determined not to lose her train of thought. “How do you feel about me?”
“You’re really going to make me say it?”
Nadine says the only thing that comes to mind, which is: “I’ve been staring at your ass since the moment we met.”
Chloe laughs, but it comes out sounding a lot like a sob.
A nap sounds really good about now.
Chloe must not like that Nadine’s closing her eyes, because her voice is louder and closer.
“Darling, I need you to stay with me. Nadine? I need you to stay awake, because I love you, okay? I’ve loved you since the moment you jumped in that bloody jeep with me to face down Asav and we didn’t die then, so you’re not going to die now, yeah? I’ve got a lot of plans for you, love. A lot. Of plans.”
Chloe sounds scared, and Nadine hates that. She hates it more than she likes the feeling of letting go, resting for just a bit, so she opens her eyes.
Chloe kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, her chin. It’s a compulsion, a way to reassure them both she’s still here, still fighting.
“Sorry about that,” Nadine whispers, when she feels like she can talk again.
“No worries,” Chloe rolls her eyes through tears. “But I feel like we ought to get out of here, if you think you can.”
Chloe tries to insist that they forget about the treasure, that they just get Nadine back to civilization as quickly as possible, but if Nadine’s going to have a fucking stab wound from a neonazi, she’s not going to go home empty handed.
Chloe makes sure the hidden passage closes behind them as they return to the ice shelf, muttering something about how in the rare event anyone else ever comes here and finds the bodies it will probably look like a cult ritual sacrifice, but on the downside the bodies will definitely be preserved unless the glaciers melt.
She adds one more layer of fabric to the bandage, wrapping it tight, before securing the gold to the snowmobile and then literally tying Nadine to her, wrapping rope around both their waists. Chloe drives all night, using the compass and their tracks in to guide the way. Nadine thinks she sees polar bears at one point, but she also thinks hallucinations after the amount of blood she lost would not be unreasonable.
The cloudy skies from the night before are clear now. The northern lights are, in fact, stunningly beautiful.
For many reasons, Nadine is glad to be alive.
_
They reach civilization again not long after sunrise. Chloe buys them a shitty room in a cheap hotel, along with a handle of vodka and something vaguely resembling a hot meal.
“Alright love, let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?”
It’s decidedly not sexy.
It fucking hurts, for one. The wound is gory, and starting to get infected.
Hence the vodka.
Nadine bites down on a belt so she doesn’t scream, takes a beat to catch her breath and then bites down again when Chloe gives her stitches with supplies from the med kit. She thinks it takes 12, but she might have passed out for a little bit.
“I know it’s not ideal, honey, but traditional medical care when you’ve got illicit antiquities on hand… not always the best route.”
“I’ve had worse nights, believe me,” Nadine grunts.
“I won’t ask,” Chloe smiles, and maybe it’s the swig of Vodka she took to ease the external burn, but her eyes are overwhelmingly fond.
“So,” Nadine sing-songs. “You mean all that stuff you said? When I was losing all that blood?”
“Ah, here I was thinking you’d forget and I could keep my badass image. Fuck me.”
“Once my arm heals,” Nadine nods, serious.
“Yeah, I meant it,” Chloe pushes Nadine’s hair out of her eyes, runs a cool washcloth across her forehead, wiping away the clammy sweat that’s gathered there.
“When you said it would be different with me…”
“‘Fraid so, love. You’ve thoroughly ruined Chloe Frazer for the free-wheeling, free-loving lifestyle. But I understand if that ruins this arrangement for you.”
Nadine pouts, annoyed at Chloe trying to give them both an out. (And drunk. Pretty drunk, at this point.)
“Chloe, I jumped in front of a knife for you.”
“You’d do that for Sam.”
“No. I wouldn’t. We both know I wouldn’t. In fact, the only reason I would would be if I thought it was what you wanted.”
“Well, for the record, I don’t think I actually would. No offense to Sam, but you’re currently a higher priority. I would be very sad if he died, but you know, losing you would bloody devastate me.”
Nadine can live with that answer.
“Listen, I know I’m kind of disgusting and a little tipsy and probably still very much in physical shock, but.. Could I kiss you? Properly?”
Chloe smiles, and she looks exhausted and beautiful.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
It’s not a good kiss— their lips are both chapped (and Chloe had busted hers somewhere in the shootout); Nadine’s mouth feels dry and heavy and it doesn’t move the way she wants it to, but she can feel Chloe’s closeness, taste underneath everything else something particular to Chloe.
Pulling away, she notices colors in Chloe’s eyes she’s never seen before.
“I’m sorry you wasted all the money on that honeymoon suite.”
Chloe laughs, and this time, no sobs are detected.
_
They do, after all, make it back to the honeymoon suite, because: a) it’s a helluva lot cleaner than where they’ve stopped in Greenland, b) Chloe has a random doctor contact in Reykjavik who can look over her work (and give them stronger painkillers, though Nadine insists on no opioids— they make her weepy and miserable and she’s no stranger to a bit of physical discomfort), and c) Chloe’s paid for another night and they have to stay somewhere before flying back to London.
(They also have to secure the passage of the treasure to its buyer, but Chloe insists she’s got that taken care of, nothing to worry about on Nadine’s end but recovery.)
Chloe’s gone for a few hours, and Nadine sleeps, mostly, because her body is still angry at her for putting it through the ringer.
Chloe returns bearing sandwiches and snacks, walking with the pep in her step that means she both sorted out her buyer and already has the find on its way out of the country, evading customs without a care in the world.
“You hungry, love?”
Nadine stretches a bit, wincing at the soreness. She feels like her whole body is covered in dust.
“I would kill for a shower.”
“Well, I’ll let you have the first one then, won’t even take your hot water. You need any help?”
Nadine wants to say no, of course not , but as she reaches up to take down her ponytail, her arm says otherwise.
“Yeah… I might… I’d really love to wash my hair.”
“Then wash your hair we shall,” Chloe shrugs, stepping out of her boots and shedding her jacket. “I’m assuming you brought your own products?”
“Always. Front pocket of the suitcase.”
“On it,” Chloe mumbles, dropping to a squat to find shampoo and conditioner.
(She’s really good at squatting. Like, the best.)
“Learned this one from my first couple tattoos,” she mutters, busting out a roll of cling wrap and setting it aside. “That’ll keep your wound covered once we get you out of your kit.”
She lets Nadine take off the easier bits of clothing, stepping in only as needed to gingerly slide her sleeves down her arm, otherwise disrobing herself.
“Red lingerie, really?”
“I told you I had a plan, Nadine. I mean, who can say no to this? ”
She does a little shimmy, ample cleavage spilling out over the cups of the bra, and yeah, maybe she has a point there.
She helps Nadine out of her sports bra (commenting “I don’t say it enough, darling, you’ve got a gorgeous back”) and turns on the water, divesting herself of the last of her clothes. As it warms, she gingerly wraps Nadine’s bicep in cling wrap, circling it a few extra times for good measure.
“It’s a look, huh,” Nadine jokes.
“Scars are sexy.” Chloe draws her gaze across the faded line from Nadine’s neck to sternum, and Nadine feels the skin there prickle in response.
It’s practical for the first part, the whole sharing a shower bit (although they’re lucky in that this one is larger than most, by virtue of the pricetag of the room). They lather up with soap and rinse their bodies in silence (and yeah, Nadine knows Chloe’s sneaking glances at her, but she can live with that at this point).
Chloe gently touches her shoulder, before squeezing shampoo into her palm.
“Ready?”
“Mmhmm.”
Chloe stands behind her, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp, her light but confident movements subtly encouraging Nadine to lean back into her touch.
Chloe presses closer as she lathers the shampoo, careful to avoid Nadine’s injury. Nadine feels the softness of her breasts against her back, the slight drag of her hard nipples as she moves to work the shampoo through all of Nadine’s hair, before rinsing and repeating the process with conditioner.
It is excruciating and wonderful, to have her so close, bare skin touching bare skin.
Chloe steps back, admiring her handiwork.
“All done.”
Nadine turns around, letting the spray from the shower run down her torso. Chloe follows the paths of the droplets, her eyes gone dark and lovely.
Nadine steps closer, and Chloe’s eyes widen for a moment, before she smiles and leans into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Nadine’s neck and bringing her in close.
This time, things click when their lips meet; a lock picked open. The chemistry between them ignites from sparks to a wildfire, and Nadine is halfway to pinning Chloe against the wall and making her scream, before realizing her body will not cooperate.
“Fuck. I don’t think I can pull this off without ripping some stitches. “
Chloe shuts off the water, kisses Nadine on the forehead, like it’s nothing, like it’s something she’s been doing every day for a decade.
“Let’s get a new bandage on you, then we can re-evaluate.”
They towel off, and Chloe carefully removes the cling wrap from Nadine’s arm, cleaning the wound once more with hydrogen peroxide and applying a wrapping of fresh gauze, several layers thick. She guides Nadine to the bed, laying her towel behind her (“In case my beautiful work should come undone”), and stepping out of her own.
Chloe is a goddamn vision. She hovers over Nadine, and Nadine lets her eyes trace every curve— the sway of her breasts, the gentle slope of her stomach; the grace of her hips, even in stillness.
She’s the epitome of a woman, and Nadine feels small but safe under her weighty gaze.
“I really don’t think I’ll be able to reciprocate; I’m shit at using my right hand.”
Chloe laughs, clearly unbothered.
“I just want to take care of you, darling. Will you let me?”
Nadine nods, propping herself to kiss Chloe again, feeling how their bodies fit together.
Chloe maps Nadine’s torso with her hands, from the scar on her neck down to the muscles of her abdomen. The callouses on her fingertips from scaling cliff faces catch against the sensitive skin of Nadine’s nipples; she gasps and cants her hips upward, grinding against Chloe’s thigh.
“You are,” Chloe purrs, “the absolute loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And of course Chloe gets it, that for all Nadine loves being the muscle, the intimidator in life, here she wants to be soft and open and more than a little easy.
Her mouth replaces her hands on Nadine’s breast and the hours Chloe spends talking have truly paid off, such is her dexterity with her tongue. She continues her journey lower, her destination obvious, but Nadine stops her before her head reaches her thighs.
“Not yet; I mean, not this time?”
“Of course, love,” Chloe assents, clearly just happy-as-all-get-out to be here. “Can I use my hands on you?”
Nadine nods, spreading her legs a little wider, her face flushing with arousal and embarrassment as Chloe skirts her fingertips from the tops of her thighs to her center, parting her gently.
“Oh darling, you are so good,” Chloe hums, rocking herself a bit against Nadine’s thigh in response to what she feels.
She’s gentle with Nadine, dragging her fingertips through wetness and circling her clit; always just a bit less pressure than Nadine would use on herself, until Nadine’s chasing her touch with her hips, biting back cries of frustration and need.
(She doesn’t even feel her wound anymore; all the blood in her body is being used elsewhere it would seem.)
“That’s it sweetheart, let me hear you,” Chloe nudges her on, speeding up the pace of her movements and adding just enough friction to topple Nadine over the edge. She comes with a gasp and a shudder, gripping Chloe by the wrist when her movements are too much, her skin too sensitive for any more contact.
“Sure you don’t want to go for a double?” Chloe raises an eyebrow, keeping her hand close to Nadine.
“Not unless you’re trying to kill me, which would’ve been easier to do yesterday, I think.”
“No, love, I need you to stick around and recover so you can make good on that left arm of yours.”
“Well, you know, I’m sure all the blood flow and oxytocin from that orgasm just accelerated the healing process; well played.”
“You caught me,” Chloe smiles, stretching before planting another firm kiss on Nadine’s cheek. She says something about finally eating dinner, but Nadine’s spent in more ways than one, and is in a happy sleep before she can second guess herself.
She wakes alone, and for a moment fears the worst, that Chloe has abandoned her (which, real selfish dickhead move considering everything else that’s happened) and devolved to her love-em-and-leave-em days. But then the door to the room clicks open, and Chloe tiptoes in, trying both not to wake her or spill the coffees she’s carrying.
“Thought you deserved to have someone else make the coffee. Wasn’t me, mind you, but, you know, still very nearly a proper reciprocation.”
“I like making you coffee,” Nadine shrugs, accepting the cup anyways. “It makes me feel useful.”
“I’ve got a whole lot more uses for you now,” Chloe drawls, before scowling at Nadine’s bandage. “If I hadn’t already killed the guy who did that I’d kill him again, just for depriving me of Nadine Ross, in all her naked glory.”
“It’ll be worth the wait, I promise,” Nadine chuckles.
“I’m pretty demanding in bed,” Chloe pouts, blowing on her coffee to cool it.
“You can be as selfish as you want when I’m inside you,” Nadine deadpans.
This time, it’s Chloe’s turn to cough and sputter.
_
They end up with the same flight crew on their trip back to London; the attendant winks when Chloe shows Nadine to her seat with a quick kiss.
“I still can’t believe you did that,” Nadine sulks, unable to stay too mad at the lie.
“Told you I was gonna get lucky, one way or another,” Chloe waggles her eyebrows.
From her best guesses, Nadine assumes she probably has a week until she can bear weight on her left side, and the wound is fully closed. While she could probably avoid temptation fine on her own, being in Chloe’s flat together is closer to an interminable edging experience.
“Can’t I just like, go down on you and touch myself?” Chloe offers, as they watch Planet Earth one night after dinner.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, Chloe,” Nadine reassures her, “I would just really rather wait until we’re evenly matched.”
“How internally ableist of you,” Chloe huffs. “You know that getting you off gets me off, right?”
“Please ,” Nadine begs, “Just humor me this once. The next time my dominant arm gets fucked up you’re more than welcome to go to town.”
Chloe relents, silently propping up her legs on Nadine’s lap and accepting a one-handed foot-rub by way of apology.
It’s a bit weird, to go so directly into playing house like this, but then it’s not, because it’s Chloe, and they’re either trauma bonded or meant for each other, because it’s never been so easy for Nadine with anyone. She starts sleeping in Chloe’s bed, wakes up with their legs tangled together, breathing synced. She memorizes her smell, the quiet exhale of her sleep, the way her feet sometimes reach out in the middle of the night and her toes curl around Nadine’s calf, a reassurance that she’s still there.
Chloe teases her, spending more time naked (or nearly so) than not, brushing past Nadine closer than necessary when she’s not wearing a bra, turning each and every word and action into an innuendo.
It’s insufferable.
Nadine loves her.
When it’s a bit too much, Nadine encourages her to go research their next trip, or call Sam and complain, and Chloe fixes her with a glare.
“I’m sorry darling, I thought you understood. I’m not doing anything until I get a solid 48 hours in bed with you. I’d recommend you start stretching now.”
_
On the seventh day, Chloe calls in a favor from a (very pretty, no Nadine’s not jealous; that would be incredibly immature) local physician friend, who comes to the flat to remove Nadine’s stitches and give her the all-clear.
“Wow, you did pay attention to me on occasion,” Dr. Huang nods approvingly at Chloe’s work. “Good to know I left a bit of an impression on you.”
Chloe rolls her eyes, but beams a bit at the praise.
“Listen Doc, how long ‘til she can f—”
“Don’t,” Nadine glares, before redirecting her focus to Dr. Huang.
“Is it okay for me to start working out again? Not lifting heavy, but maybe cardio or kickboxing?”
Dr. Huang palpates her shoulder, finishes a few range of motion exercises, and then crosses her arms, weighing her assessment.
“Listen to your body, and remember that pain is a reminder to ease up, but yeah, the wound’s held up well, I don’t think you need to worry about bleeding all over the bedsheets. You gals have fun,” she winks, waving off Chloe’s offer of payment and instead requesting a few specific souvenirs the next time they end up in the Carribean.
Chloe squeals with glee.
“I can’t believe it. I actually can’t believe it.”
“Is this just… how it’s gonna be? You basically letting everyone in the world know we’re together?”
Chloe flares her nostrils.
“That’s what got you so ticked off in the first place, huh? You overheard Sam teasing me?”
Nadine frowns.
“I don’t like being the butt of a joke.”
“Well, you’re not. You’re a bloody dream come true and yeah, maybe I’m more inclined to show you off, than not. Can you really blame me?”
“I’m a private person,” Nadine explains, still bristling at the ease Chloe had with that woman, the ease she has with so many people that Nadine’s never known in her entire life.
“I know, love. And whatever boundaries you want to set, with what we tell people, I’ll follow your lead. I promise you don’t have to worry about word getting round. Until you’re ready.”
Nadine nods, satisfied enough with the answer.
“Now, southpaw, how about letting me see just what that arm can do?”
It’s a cheesy awful pickup line, but Nadine doesn’t care; she’s just as hard-up as Chloe at this point, even if she doesn’t announce that at every turn. Just because she can, she picks her up and carries her into the bedroom, Chloe’s delighted laugh reverberating off of the exposed brick walls of the flat.
Chloe grab’s Nadine’s belt buckle and pulls her down on top of her as Nadine deposits her on top of the bed.
“Thought you’d want to be on top, control thing and all?”
“Usually, yeah, especially with blokes, but I dunno, I’m kind of into the idea of you pinning me down and whispering dirty things in my ear.”
And maybe Chloe’s kidding (she’s never really truly kidding; Nadine learned this early on), but if she’s good at one thing, Nadine can follow a fucking direction.
She takes off her shirt and her belt, while Chloe flings off her own clothes in reckless abandon, leaving them in a sloppy pile on the floor, until she’s bare, chest heaving with anticipation.
Nadine props herself up on her right arm (thank the lord for one-armed pushups), and gets to work, running her left hand from Chloe’s shoulders to her navel, up the backs of her calves to squeeze that magnificent ass, scraping her nails across her ribcage and caressing the outlines of her breasts, before leaning in close, her breath ghosting across Chloe’s neck.
“Should I fuck you with my tongue and let you grind against my face, or let you ride my hand until you come around my fingers?”
“They say,” Chloe pants, “the perfect woman does not exist, and yet, here you bloody are.”
Nadine nips an earlobe to punctuate her response.
“That wasn’t an answer, Chloe.”
“Both, fuck, both, but right now I really want to feel you inside me.”
Nadine lowers her left hand down the smooth skin of Chloe’s stomach, cataloguing the feeling in her memory, of the touch and sound and scent of this moment. She rubs a thumb across Chloe’s iliac crest, smiling when she whimpers at the touch, before sliding towards the juncture of her thighs.
She means to tease, to draw it out like Chloe did to her, but Chloe has been painfully patient up to this point, and she grabs Nadine’s hand and guides it exactly where she wants it.
Nadine’s fingers sink in with no resistance; Chloe is wet and slick and all-enveloping. She squeezes Nadine’s fingers, rocks against her as she crooks them, putting deep pressure just so.
(In sex and in fighting, technique and finesse beat power each and every time, a thing men rarely understand.)
Chloe opens her eyes, sighs in delicious exasperation at what she finds on Nadine’s face.
“It’s not fair that you’re this hot when you’re this smug.”
“Oh, smug works for you, does it?”
“Yes,” Chloe hisses, biting her lip and bearing down harder, drawing Nadine’s fingers deeper into her.
The pulse of her clit as Nadine swipes a thumb across it confirms the accuracy of her words, and she’s quickly rewarded with a magnificent stream of curses and whines and maybe Chloe was wrong, maybe 48 hours won’t be enough; better to aim for 72 to be safe.
Chloe grabs her by the shoulders, pulls her in for a sloppy kiss before Nadine descends upon her neck, biting and sucking and scraping her teeth across Chloe’s pulse point, until she feels the hard squeeze and flutter around her fingers, accompanied by a gush of wetness and a long, deep moan from Chloe.
They lie like that for a moment, Nadine’s head on Chloe’s chest, counting her heartbeats as Chloe comes back to the present, whimpering in disappointment when Nadine slowly withdraws her fingers and rolls on her side.
Chloe looks as exhausted as Nadine feels (they really put it all out on the field; admirable of the two of them, frankly), but beatific joy radiates across her face.
“What?” she laughs, when Nadine’s awed stare becomes unavoidable.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”
“Hush your mouth,” Chloe laughs, “or I’ll spank you and say mean things to you.”
“Oh, that sounds kinda fun. Might be into that, if it’s you doing it,” Nadine grins.
Chloe inhales through her nose, breathing in pride and peace.
“I am. So. Lucky.”
“Ja. Me, too.”