sekkritaus | Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

TIMELINE
* indicates NSFW

Andy and Poe meet *
Andy and Poe's first gig *
Rex Meet Cute
Poe makes Andy the Copilot *
Poe and Rex have a Pleasant Evening *
Poe gets Andy off talking about how hot Rex is when he makes an O face *
Poe confesses his feelings for Andy, she storms off
Poe tells Rex about Andy storming off and accidentally confesses feelings for him too
Finally getting the stupid woman back on the ship
Andy and Rex "spar"
Poe getting to say "I love you" to Andy during sex and not getting punched *
Poe and Andy get snacks for Rex, or try to anyway
Poe gets himself hurt
Poe wakes up and gets lectured at by Andy
Then by Rex
Poe Tells Andy he wants to marry them at the worst possible moment *
Andy and Poe propose to Rex

UNSURE TIMELINE:
Bounty Posters

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Oh, she knows alright. But she's not betting on Rex missing her ruse — he's too good a soldier for that, too keen and too capable — she's betting on the fact that he's exactly the type to reach for her hand anyway, just to see what she's going to try. Maybe he's expecting some ancient Scythian maneuver, some clever martial arts she picked up in some remote corner of the galaxy...

But it's a cheaper trick than that. Cheeky, but simple.

Gripping his hand, she hauls herself to her fee, using that momentum to close distance, close enough that he can catch her smug little smirk as she tilts her head to kiss him, pressing her mouth warmly to his — right before she brings her knee up, aiming straight for the gut. ]

[ The kiss blindsides him. It shouldn't, all things considered, but it does. He freezes, eyes widening, taken well off balance just in time for her to knee the shit out of him. Rex doubles over, one arm instinctively flying down to belatedly protect his tender ribs. ]

Oh, you little...

[ He'd been the one to kiss her, way back when they were sorting things out, and after that... well, things hadn't changed a great deal beyond the fact that sometimes the three of them piled into one very, very crowded bed at night. When his head jerks up again, his expression is laden with intent. This time, he doesn't reach out to punch her back or knee her or headbutt her or any of the other obvious routes to go. Instead, he uses his bulk to corral her into a corner, a hand reaching out to grab at one of her wrists to press it against the wall.

He doesn't kiss her. But he does lean down, close enough that they're practically standing nose to nose. ]

Is that all it takes to get you to kiss me? Throwing each other around a bit? [ He reaches out with his free hand, grabbing at Andy's chin and tilting it up. This is, he reflects, either going to get the shit kicked out of him or he's finally going to get that kiss without getting kneed in the ribs or getting his nose broken. He decides it's worth the risk. ] Because more of that can be arranged.

[ Or she'll kiss him while kicking the shit out of him again. That would be fine too. ]

[ There is, at least, some risk of a broken nose — that risk never completely goes to zero where Andy is involved — but to be fair, the last time he had her pinned against a wall, she was furious. And much more willing to headbutt him than confront her feelings. This time? This time, she seems much more amenable to her current predicament. In fact, the upward curve of her mouth is almost a little smug. ]

Babe, I'll kiss you anytime you want. [ There's the familiar edge of mockery in her voice, even when her words are low and private like this, just for him. ] I just think it's fun when we play rough. Kind of gets me in the mood.

[ Her smile gets mean in the split second before she does exactly what he probably knew she would — tilting her head to press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth before aiming her free hand in a fist right at those ribs she jammed her knee into just minutes before. ]

Really? [ Rex - all right, he wouldn't describe it this way, but wheezes. ] Because it seems to me that you're only interested when you're roughing me up.

[ A small price to pay, Rex thinks, which is a pretty good indication of how senseless he's become in the face of this mess of a crew. But if this is what being senseless means, he's hoping he won't come to his senses anytime soon, even if he's been saddled with the task of loving the meanest Scythian on this side of the galaxy.

He surges forward to kiss her, one hand grabbing at the small of her waist and trying to swing her around, trying to knock her off-balance like they're on the cover of one of those damned romance holonovels that used to get swapped from bunk to bunk. He doesn't bother with her quick pecks; this time there's a low, insistent sweep of his tongue.

And then, when he thinks he's got her off-balance, whether or not that's true, he does the only thing he can. He drops her. ]

[ It isn't like she's never been kissed before. It's not even her first time being kissed by him — but it still stalls her, catching her off-guard despite the fact that she pulled the same trick just minutes ago. Whatever smart-ass comment she had for him dies in her throat. Her eyelashes flutter. Whatever fight was wound up tight in her body ebbs for that one moment —

And then he fucking drops her. ]

Shit —

[ Thud. She hits the ground. Again. Flat on her back with a groan. Fuck. Okay. She probably deserved that.

Andy lays there for a second or two before she sits up on one elbow, puffing a little air at a stray curl flopped over her forehead before asking wryly: ]

...Don't suppose you'd want to give me another hand?

[ It was a cheap shot, but Rex looks entirely too pleased with himself as he stands over Andy, arms crossed. ] I think there's a saying about how many times you can be fooled before it's your own fault, [ he points out, nudging a little at her foot with his boot.

He's not going to give her a hand up - but at the moment, it's very tempting to just join her. On the plus side, she looks good all laid out, hair a mess. On the downside, she's got very pointy elbows. ]

[ She does have very pointy elbows. And apparently true love isn't a barrier between her and using those very pointy elbows against him. But the way she's sizing him up right now isn't entirely in the way of an opponent — that appreciative little tilt of her head, her eyes half-mast and blatant, and the fucking smug upward curve of her lips, like maybe she thinks she's definitely gained something by ending up on the floor. Probably the angle.

Lightly, she nudges his foot back with her own. ]

Come down here. [ It's spoken like a suggestion, tinged in a little wryness that likely makes it hard to entirely trust her intentions. ] No tricks this time. Scythian's honor.

I'll have you know that I still don't trust you as far as I can throw you, [ Rex warns her, though he looks amused despite himself. He's not sure why he finds her quite so charming as he does - he must just have bad taste, and a weakness for a beating. ] I don't want you thinking I'm an idiot.

[ He clambers to the ground, just barely leaning over her as he splays out, a wry tilt to the curve of his mouth. ] Just a fool.

[ The distinction's important. ]

[ Just as well. Scythians aren't girl scouts, they're survivors. Mercenaries and assassins and smugglers. Who's ever heard of one making a vow of honor?

He knows what's coming. She might adore every detail of the man, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't take advantage of both his bad taste and his weakness for a beating. The split second's reprieve is just so she can admire the wry curve of his mouth with great affection — right before she's getting her legs wrapped around him and twisting, flipping them over to put herself on top. Her rough exhale carries with it a hint of a laugh. ]

This doesn't mean I don't love you —

[ On the contrary, her eyes are warm with it, alight and amused despite her mean little smile. Her hands grapple for his, tangling their fingers together to keep them occupied as she leans over him, the tail of her loosening braid slipping over her shoulder. ]

But it might mean you're definitely a fool.

You knew I was a fool as soon as I went all in with you lot, [ Rex points out wryly. That's not wholly true - he's safer with Andy and Poe than he would be anywhere else in many respects - but it's also true that his life would be far simpler, far more peaceful if he'd fucked off to some far-flung end of the galaxy to putter around and live the rest of his days in solitude.

She's leaning over him and grabbing onto him but, unlike last time, he's not fighting back. Instead, his fingers curl around hers as he raises a challenging brow at her. ]

So, you've got me where you want me. Your move, Scraps.

[ It's funny, how often she has a similar thought — that things could be simpler, if she'd left when she planned to, returning to her old lonely existence, jumping between freelancing jobs and one night stands. That's the life she'd chosen for herself, the one she'd known for decades — centuries. It was familiar. And she was never afraid to lose anything. Not even her own life. But now...

She looks down at him, and her smugness softens. ]

I do, you know.

[ Her voice is quiet and wry when she leans down closer, holding their clasped hands to her chest. ]

Love you.

[ Rex lets her manhandle him, tugging their hands together, pliant underneath her grasp. That's part of the joy in this. They're all very, very good at what they do. They let others into their lives because they allowed it, allowed others to get away with it - though some of them came into this more willingly than others.

Andy was the least willing of them all. For a while after their fight, after she had begrudgingly admitted to caring about them as well, promised that she was going to try, Rex hadn't wholly believed her. He'd half-expected her to run off again, leave it all behind the moment she got cold feet.

Maybe she still will. But she hasn't yet, and it warms him, hearing her openly admit to something that had to be forcibly dragged out of her, not so long ago. There is a tenderness to her that nobody else can see.

Good, Rex thinks, sometimes, greedy in the way of someone who's only recently learned how to be. It's not for anyone else. It's theirs. ] I know, [ he says, leaning forward to meet her. There's something new in this proximity they haven't explored before - and something gratifying in the way that she seems to want it too, even if he knows they'd both be content with the simpler intimacy they've relied on. When he kisses her this time, he's finally not expecting to be elbowed in the ribs. ]

[ There's never so much certainty with Andy. Not that she lacks for devotion or loyalty — but the depths to which she feels those things frightens her if she dwells on it too long. She could stare down the barrel of a blaster and feel nothing, and yet — sometimes, it overwhelms her, just to watch her lovers sleep beside her at night and wonder if she'll be strong enough to protect them. To keep them with her. To preserve this beautiful, chaotic life they've made with each other.

For all the mean tricks, all the pointy elbows she's jammed into his ribs today — her kiss is warm, even soft at first, a nearly gentle press of her mouth to his that lingers before breaking, once then twice, then again, each one building with a little bit of that need for him that she's kept buried inside her all this time. Her fingers squeeze at his before she finally lets go of them, sliding her grip forward to his wrists instead, urging his hands to the narrowing above her waist as she kisses him harder. ]

[ It doesn't take much to urge Rex on. He moves forward with more certainty when Andy deepens the kiss and he does the same, lips opening to kiss her more and more insistently. They're close enough and she's small enough so that it's simple to wrap one arm around her side, seizing onto her waist, leaving his other hand free to press against the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

It feels good, having her pushed snugly up against him with more immediacy than any time before, the quiet nights, the frantic days, all of her sharp edges disguised for the moment by a tenderness few get to bear witness to. It feels like he's being given a gift - he wonders if that's how Poe felt as well, that first connection that they'd made. ] I've been waiting for this, [ he husks, nose bumping against hers. He hasn't been waiting for long. He hadn't thought about it so directly before Poe had spoken up, before everything had come to pass. Somehow, that still seems like an age to him. ]

[ The low rumble of his voice alone is enough to coax a warm little shiver down her spine. He's been waiting, he says, and she doesn't have the words to do justice to an answer — nothing so poignant as the way her whole body seems to yearn for him. She can't explain aloud how many times her mind has wandered to this — sometimes fleetingly, moments in battle maybe, when he'd do something so stupidly brave and needlessly reckless that she couldn't help wanting him, and sometimes in a drawn out, indulgent way, most often when Poe would make the short walk from Rex's quarters to her own, still tasting like him when he'd lean in to kiss her.

She could have done something about it months ago, but it wouldn't be Andy if she didn't choose a self-imposed torture instead — first in denial of her feelings outright, and once that had been confronted, in denial that she might want those feelings to change anything between them. Or maybe in denial of the fact that she'd rather not consider the possibility of change at all, if that meant a possibility that she might somehow ruin it in the process. She is, as it turns out, almost as adept at ruining things as she is killing things, and it hadn't been so hard, really, to be content with things as they were. There was nothing wrong with the habitual intimacy of companionship. Their jibes and simple touches. Hours of comfortable silence. Nothing wrong with that at all.

But her heart is beating almost painfully hard in her chest right now. Because this matters somehow, even though she thinks it probably shouldn't, especially when she's done it a thousand other times with a thousand other people. ]

You know how slow I can be to come around. [ The words finally come in a low murmur, barely there and half-playing it off. Another kiss, to keep her thoughts from wandering too far. She sits up a little, brushing his hand aside so that she can free the braid of her hair, letting it go loose and wild before she reaches for the hem of her shirt, tugging it half way off and then — hesitating in a way that's unlike her.

She knows he'll see right through her — just like he has with every trick she's pulled so far — but it's a deflection she falls back on anyway, some urge to offer him an out when she goes on with a deceptive dryness: ] You sure you wouldn't rather keep throwing each other around a while?

[ Rex leans back a little to watch her undo her hair, gaze intent and weighty. She cuts quite the silhouette over him, and he's got the best seat in the house, watching as everything that separates them, everything that declares her as Andy the Scythian instead of the Andy that's theirs slowly falls away.

He's not thinking about sex right now. His body would disagree quite stridently with that claim, but it's true; he'd have far more reservations if he was thinking about the simple mechanics of it. But he's thinking instead of what it means to be with Andy in a different kind of way, to map the scraps of skin he's only ever seen in quiet moments of repose, meant for cleaning and recuperation and nothing else, being able to connect with her in a way he's been hungry for, her lips on him, and his on hers. ]

I'm sure if you're sure, [ he says, reaching out and grasping at her waist with both hands this time, rough thumbs rubbing against the top of her ribcage, only just vanishing underneath what's left of her shirt. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before pulling away, though he'd really rather not pull away at the moment. ] We could always make out a while longer like a couple of teenagers, [ he points out wryly, as though he hadn't been wholly inexperienced in this until a very short while ago. ] But in any case, I'd rather you stay right here.

[ Kissing would be fine. So would spooning, though Andy may find the issue with that fairly quickly. But the last thing he wants is for her to pull away now. ]

[ She loves that — the roughness of his hands. A soldier's hands. Hands that have pulled her from the line of fire more than once — and hauled her to her feet, when her ears were ringing and her own blood blurred her vision. The same hands that have bandaged her wounds and stitched her up. Washed her hair when she was too tired to do anything but stand under the spray of the fresher. They feel right, fitted over the curve of her ribs, close enough to feel the edge of her heartbeat where it races for him just below her breast.

She doesn't keep undressing, her fingers just loosely curled in the fabric of her shirt as she sits there, half-stalled in the moment. It's not the same impulsive, messy, eager affair that was her first time with Poe — back in that alley behind the cantina, without even knowing his name or intending to ever give him hers. This is different. The love she feels makes her a little soft and a little hesitant at once. It makes her a little quiet when she answers him, her voice low and private: ]

Is that what you'd rather? [ The corner of her mouth turns upward faintly, wry and self-deprecating. ] You worried I might run away again?

Maybe, [ he says, keeping his tone deceptively light, though it doesn't change the way he looks at her at all, how intent he is upon looking at her, how clearly he's not about to let her leave his sight. All of his focus is on her now; he's certain that practically nothing could distract him at this point, and if anyone did, he and Andy would dispatch them in moments flat so they could get back to this. Unless it's Poe, of course, the only other person who's as much a part of this as they are. His hands rise from her ribcage to rest flat on her bare back, palms only just curving around her shoulderblades. ]

Or maybe I'm just worried you'll get bored and go back to throwing me around, [ he jokes, and though he doesn't truly believe that, not with her hanging over him, as soft and hesitant as he's ever seen her, there's a little more truth to that. He doesn't question her devotion. But he questions this. They've never done this before, never gotten to know each other in this way. They've done it all backwards.

She's lived a very long time. He can't measure up to whatever she's done in the past. All he can do is be something - someone - new. He presses another kiss to the underside of her jaw. ] But I've got nothing but time.

[ Time and time again, he asks one thing of her: stay. And he'll keep asking it, until she eventually tires of hearing it. But she hasn't yet. ]

[ She has lived a very long time. And she's been with more people than she can really remember anymore. Most of them are faceless to her now, nameless to begin with and little more than blurs of sweat and skin in memories that have smeared together into a vague haze. Others she remembers too well — people she loved. People she wanted to stay with. People who had her at their side for years and years. But she isn't thinking about any of them. Not the anonymous one night stands, not the lovers that she buried. Just him. Here, right now, with her.

It doesn't matter who wanted her before. It doesn't matter who had her before. It only matters what Rex thinks when he looks at her — and maybe that's why she still has all her clothes on. Even though she's centuries old and tough as nails — even though she's been around this particular block a hundred times before, some part of her feels unprepared. Vulnerable somehow. It's been a long time since she's felt that way. And it's all the more poignant for how much she wants him. How much she wants him to want her.

His hands are a reassurance, warm and steady against her back. Familiar, even if the territory isn't. Those dark eyes meet his, holding his gaze with an almost singular focus until her hands finally move again, tightening their grasp on the hem of her shirt so she can pull it up over her head and toss it aside. It leaves her hair even more tousled, wild and just barely keeping her modest where it drapes in waves over her shoulders.

Her voice stays low, slightly rough around the edges when she answers: ]

I'm not going anywhere.

[ There are those out there who likely worshipped Scythians, Rex knows. What else do you do when you're a mortal and you run into something like a Scythian, see everything they can do, what they can withstand, how they can rage into battle and emerged wholly unscathed? He'd never understood it before, not after a lifetime of fighting alongside the likes of which others can only imagine.

He understands it more and less now, all at the same time. She's too much like them to be worshipped, too vulnerable in quiet moments, filled with all the same tenderness as any mortal, but there's something about the sight of her leaning over him, as perfect as she's ever been. ]

Let me see you. [ He brushes her hair back, away from her face, leaving her bare in the briskness of the ship. He stays like that for a moment, drinking her in. They've seen each other bare before. Hell, Rex had seen her bare that first day on the ship, wandering out into a sight that told him that there was something going on that he'd never belong to, that he'd never think to belong to.

Things have changed since then. And it's different, seeing her now. This is when he ought to utter sweet nothings, to tell her what this means, to tell her how she makes him feel, but words rarely come easy to him. ]

You're beautiful, [ he says, and while his voice is low, he's still as blunt and matter-of-fact as ever. Hesitantly, he reaches out further, watching her as though asking for permission when he skims one thumb over her breast. ] I should have told you that before.

[ They've never been good at that sort of thing, the two of them. But they've got time. ]

[ Maybe there are moments when she seems untouchable, even godlike — on the battlefield, covered in blood and gore, baring her teeth in a jagged smile that says her enemy should have tried harder, that they had their chance, and now it's her turn. Her small figure belies the raw violence she's capable of, even with her bare hands alone, and the long centuries she's survived in this galaxy have only taught her more ways to be cruel in a fight. But there's none of that now. She's not untouchable now — not invulnerable, not even to that scant touch, just the simple brush of his thumb against her breast, coaxing out a faintly wavering exhale from her parted lips.

She's as vulnerable as she ever is. The vastness of her years gives her no advantage — she hesitates just the same as he does, half uncertain how to be with the one person in the universe that she's always found it natural to be with. Some part of her almost doesn't want to be seen — this body, which has been hers for so long, almost to the point of detachment, she suddenly feels keenly aware of it, how it must look to someone who's never seen a woman's body bare before. All her battle scars, all her hard lines, contrasted to the curve of her waist, the softness of her small breasts. Is she beautiful? Can he mean that when she's the only woman he's ever known this way?

But maybe those questions are just excuses. Excuses for the part of her that always wants to run away, to avoid the things that will make her love them more — as if that matters, when she's here already. When she's promised to stay. When she spends her every waking moment at the side of one man or the other. When her wanting for them is a physical ache she feels so poignantly now, a heat in her gut that swells at the mere sound of Rex's voice. ]

You don't have to flatter me. [ She answers wryly, deflecting as if that might hide the slight unsteadiness in her hands as she reaches again for his wrists, urging his hands to her body, to touch her more fully than the light brush of a fingertip. ] I'm already in love with you.

You'd better stick around a little longer, [ Rex says lightly, voice low and reserved for her as though they're somewhere they'd be noticed instead of out on a ship in the middle of nowhere. ] You don't know me well enough if that's what you think. I've never flattered anyone in my life and I don't intend to start now.

[ It's the truth, as naked as Andy is. It's not something to be proud of either, not the way Rex says it, but he's proud nonetheless; they've got Poe to be the charmer for them. The two of them are just muscle, uncivilized and blunt, saving any gentleness they've maintained through these hard times for each other and each other alone.

He accepts her urging, palming her breasts, thumbs stroking at the soft skin there more firmly now, doing little more but exploring. His hands feel large and clumsy in the wake of her, too rough when compared to how soft she is like this, as though she's far more breakable than he knows she is. He hopes she doesn't notice his inexperience and just how much his confidence is feigned, but he doesn't let that still his hands; for all of his uncertainty, he can't resist finally having the opportunity to touch her to his heart's content. Finally, he wraps one arm around her waist and pushes her closer with a hitch of his hips so he can press a kiss to her sternum, slowly laving his way down until his teeth catch on her nipple.

He doesn't know why he feels so tentative about this. He knows how she likes her sex. He'd heard it himself, way back when, like an abstract thing that just happened to be happening in his space. And then again, later, their sounds hard and heavy, and he'd stood by the wall of his quarters, forehead pressed against that very same wall, hand firmly wrapped around himself. This oughtn't be any different, but it is.

His head jerks up a little, looking up at her, checking in despite himself. ] All right?

[ How many times has she staggered back onto the ship between the two of them, barely realizing that she's bleeding from two or three wounds, covered in scrapes and bruises, not giving a single damn about it, like she's fucking invincible, invulnerable — but then, just the simple press of his hands on the soft swell of her breasts, and her heart stutters in her chest. The barest scrape of his teeth, and her next exhale wavers ever so slightly. It doesn't matter that she's hundreds of years old and had hundreds of lovers. It doesn't matter that he's really been with a woman like this before. She's still so affected — she still wants him so much.

She doesn't notice she's closed her eyes until he speaks again, that little question, and she looks at him with muted surprise, like she's a mildly caught off guard to be asked. It's delayed, the soft noise she makes — this quiet huff of breath, wry and amused and fond. Almost a laugh, but a bit too breathless. Gods, but her pulse is pounding. A person would think she'd never been touched in her life. ]

Yes, Captain. [ She answers with a twinge of dryness. ] All right, at the very fucking least.

[ Better than all right, judging by the small tells — her slightly quickened breath, the hint of color in her face. Though there's probably more obvious evidence, underneath what's left of her clothes. She can feel it between her thighs when she moves, how she's starting to get worked up already, and after a moment's deliberation, she lets her hands fall to her waistband to start pushing it down off her hips. ]

Honestly, Rex? I'm so fucking stupid for you — [ Wryly now, as if too much sincerity might give her away: ] If you just look at me long enough, it'll probably get me off.

[ There's something heady in that. He already knew she loved him. Loves him. But to have her say that she's ready for this, that she wants this not because of out of the desire she carries within her chest, because they'd got their blood running hot by tossing each other around, because they'd wound up tangled together anyway, but because she wants him --

He lets his face fall forward, pressing his forehead to her chest for a moment with a quiet, telling hitch of his breath. She's pressed to him too closely not to feel what that does to him, even underneath layers of clothes. ] You're going to be the end of me.

[ He disentangles himself from her a moment after, because if she's shucking off her pants, it's well past time for him to peel off his own shirt. His skin is pebbled already, even though they've done little more than grope and neck, but at least they're in the same boat. Once he tosses his shirt carelessly aside, he grabs onto her waistband as it slides down Andy's thighs, helping her pull them the rest of the way down. ]

[ It's a graceless affair, nudging her boots off and working her pants down the rest of the way, even with his help — or maybe from the distraction of it. Just the skimming of his knuckles along the outsides of her thighs is enough to draw her attention, making her a bit more clumsy than she really should be, with her experience. But this isn't some quickie with a stranger she met in a shady cantina somewhere — this is Rex. Rex, who's had her back in every firefight since they found him. The man who she loved long before Poe thought to accuse her of it — and who she wanted, long before that.

She used to catch herself staring, in these idle moments. Just watching him, taking him in while he talked with Poe, or while he was cleaning up his gear — keeping her distance, always, but...

Well. To hell with distance now.

She roughly runs her fingertips from his sternum down over the muscles of his stomach with a faint scrape of blunt nails, exploring that stretch of bare skin in a way she never has before — and pausing there when she reaches his waistband, just barely hooking her fingers inside. That's where she hesitates, slightly unsteady, her voice a rough whisper when she speaks: ]

Tell me you want this as much as I do.

[ As if the proof isn't a scant inch from her hand. But she's still stalled — needing, in a rare moment, to have permission. Reassurance. ]

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