Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

[flightforfreedom]

 

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
 

Comments

[ct_7567]

[ Rex, of course, doesn't let go of her. He keeps her pressed up against the wall, forearm digging into her chest, knuckles still white where he's clutching onto the antidote for dear life. It feels a little wrong - he should be helping her when she's succumbing to something that feels so violent, so contrary to everything he knows about her, the way she should be like, how invincible she's always seemed - but he's no fool.

He doesn't let relief sink in yet. He won't until they're well and truly in the clear. Not if she confirms that she's fine. Not if they get out of here. And not if they get on the ship. No, he'll only relax days from now, when he knows for a fact that it's not lingering in her system, that it hasn't done anything worse.

But for now, he wants the single success. ]

You with me again, Andy?

[killtime]

[ Andy isn't thinking about days from now — the possibility of lingering effects, damage that her Scythian biology might not be able to just shake off. Her thoughts still seem a little sluggish, as if her mind had suddenly been forced out of hyperdrive, everything abruptly slowed down as reality sinks back in. Vaguely, she's aware that there's a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. Her ribs fucking ache from the force of her coughing fit. She's exhausted. It's his arm holding her up more than her own two legs.

But then she hears his voice, and the corner of her lips curves upward just so.

That's their Rex. A seasoned soldier — too good at what he does to give in to the temptation of relief until he's sure. Until he hears her answer. ]

...Afraid so, Captain. [ There's still a strained rasp to her voice, but she isn't actively trying to tear his throat out, so it seems like an honest reply, despite her wryness. ] But give me a minute to catch my breath and I'll chase you around the base again, if you want.

[ct_7567]

It's not funny, [ Rex snaps. This is how they are, isn't it? They joke under pressure. They always joke under pressure. Others may not see it as jokes - they're admittedly a little flat in their delivery - but that's what they are nonetheless, toying with each other in the midst of battle. This is different. ]

We don't know what that stuff could have done to you. Might still be doing to you.

[ But sometimes -- sometimes, the jokes don't work anymore. And it's at times like these, when someone who ought to be functionally immortal suddenly isn't. He eases off on her a little bit, pressure on her chest lessening until he finally relents entirely, hand slipping down her arm to press against the inside of her wrist. ]

Let's not do that again.

[killtime]

[ But she's Andy — Andy the Scythian, the centuries-old freelancer, that old unkillable bitch, so what can she do except joke about it now? She wouldn't probably know how to cope properly with the idea of death even if it stared her straight in the face. Her relationship with the concept can't ever be normal now — if it ever was. It's easier to pretend the call wasn't close, that they would've been fine no matter what. Rex had it handled, didn't he. It was just a little detour on their mission. A little bump in the road. A little extra adrenaline rush.

It's fine.

It's fine.




Fuck.

Who gives a fuck if she could have died anyway.

Who gives a fuck if she could still maybe die from it —

She might have killed him.

She —

She doesn't realize how tightly she was clenching her fist until she feels his hand at her wrist. Her expression had been composed this whole time, despite the trickle of blood at her mouth and the weariness deepening the lines of her already severe face. She thought she'd been playing it off, but... It. Terrifies her. The idea that she could have murdered him in a gleeful bloody rage. How would she have lived with that? How could she have ever gone home to Poe then? Fuck.

Fuck.

Andy lifts her arm again as if to wipe blood or sweat from her face. But her arm stays raised, covering her eyes. After a few moments, her shoulders start to tremble ever so slightly. ]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex makes no secret of the fact that his hand dropped to Andy's wrist to check her heartbeat. She's still standing in front of him. Of course she's still alive. But it reassures him to hear it, to feel it, to have pure, tangible proof that she's still standing here in front of him, alive if not wholly well.

He doesn't realize at first what's happening when her pulse quickens and her expression changes, surging forward a little, concerned -- no, afraid. He doesn't know what it's doing to her. If it's tearing her up inside, if the antidote will cause some sort of detoxification period, if she'll bend underneath the pressure, those ancient bones unused to this sort of chemical warfare. ]

What is it, what's happening? Andy, talk to me.

[killtime]

[ She wants to tell him that she's fine. She is fine. Or she will be. It's not that. It's — fuck.

It would be easy to blame the toxin. She could make the excuse that she wasn't herself — that it wasn't her that wanted to tear Rex's throat out — and he would let her get away with it. Maybe he'd even want to believe that. But some part of her thrived while the poison flooded her veins, opening her up to liberate the primal, blood-thirsty thing that's always lived there, deep down. That part of her loved the chase. The kill. And that part of her would have ripped him to shreds, and it wouldn't have mattered how much she loves him.

The tears that threaten at the corners of her eyes are self-loathing and angry. She doesn't want him to see it. To see her. Not like this. But she can't give voice yet to the lies that would be necessary to try and reassure him. So she just doesn't answer. Just stands there with her face covered and her shoulders faintly trembling. ]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex doesn't know what's happening. Only that Andy is trembling, shuddering before him, lost and vulnerable in a way that looks wrong on her and that he's never quite seen before. He doesn't like it. He doesn't know if it's the detox or -- hell, it could be anything, couldn't it?

He stands there awkwardly for a moment. Longer than Poe would. Poe would have been there straightaway, but he just stands there, hands on either of her shoulders, helplessly squeezing them as he susses out what's next. But he gets the idea eventually and tugs her forward into his arms, trying to wrap them around her.

They could be interrupted by an enemy at any moment, he knows, but if they are, he'll ready to rip their throat out with his teeth, if need be. ] It's all right, [ he murmurs. ] We're going to get out of here, all right? Get you some rest after all that.

[killtime]

[ There's an instinctive tension that rises in her shoulders as he pulls her closer — some part of her that still doesn't trust herself. But it lasts only a moment, that slight resistance to being comforted — then she puts her arms around him fiercely, holding him against her with all the strength left in her body. She's so sorry. Sorry for being reckless, for being barbaric and cruel — but unable to voice that apology, knowing that she isn't likely to change either. She is what she is. A terrible, violent mess.

But she's a terrible, violent mess that loves him. And that love swells painfully in her chest when he tells her it's all right — him, comforting her, when she was the one who nearly murdered him —

Her grip on him tightens. Her voice is muffled when it finally comes: ]

Don't let this change us.

[ Quieter still, low and rough: ]

Please.

[ct_7567]

We won't be running into any more enemy bases on our own anytime soon, [ Rex murmurs. He doesn't let her go. She seems like she needs it even more than he does, and in fairness, he needs it quite a bit - he still doesn't feel secure with her, worrying that she's going to turn again at any moment, that she's going to crumple in his arms, that something else is going to happen because kriff if he understands biological warfare. He smooths one hand fretfully against the flat of her back. If she ignores the hitch in his breath, he will too. ]

That wasn't you. I know it wasn't. You wouldn't hurt me. [ He considers his previously broken nose. It had been broken a good few times before Andy headbutted him in the face. ] Not like that.

I know, Andy. I know.

[killtime]

[ It shames her. That he's the one offering her comfort when she's the one that tried to cut his throat. That he had to see her like that, bloody and grinning, hungry for the kill. It wouldn't have mattered if it was someone else. She's done terrible things in her long life — without the excuse of some toxin either. She's been a murderer, a thief, a cheat, and a liar. She lived a long, messy life before she ever met him. But when Rex looks at her, she wants —

She wants him to see someone worthwhile. Deserving of his love and his loyalty.

Her grip on him lingers for another long moment before she finally starts to pull back a little — just enough to look him in the eye, her gaze steady despite her shame. Her palms are rough when the come to press against his face, cupping the strong line of his jaw as she tips his head down towards her so that their noses almost brush. ]

I love you. [ A murmur, barely there at all. ] Can we go the fuck home?

[ct_7567]

I've wanted to go home for a while now, [ Rex says, voice a little hoarse, a terribly fondness in him as he looks at her, pressing his hand to the side of her face, thumb skimming past her cheekbone. He just looks at her for a second. Taking her in. She's pale, still. He's still looking at her, inspecting her veins, her sway, and presses one hand over her heart. He breathes her in, then exhales. She's still here with him. Despite everything, she's still here with him. ]

We'll have to fight our way out. And we can't let them do that to you again. Not ever. [ Or to anyone else, he'd usually say. Usually, he'd want to destroy the source. To hell with everyone else. He cares about her. No principles can get in the way of that. ]

Be careful. Please.

[killtime]

[ Underneath the weight of his hand, her heart still throbs in her chest — a slightly unsteady but strong rhythm, painful for reasons related more to the fondness she sees in his face than the toxin so recently purged from her veins. Yeah. She wants to go home. She wants to go home, curl into bed with him, and not leave for days. But he's right. They'll have to fight their way out first, and she probably hasn't helped things much by putting the entire place on high alert with her bloody rampage.

She doesn't feel entirely ready to move yet. But she has to. She has to force herself to let go of him and brace her tired body for what comes next.

Normally, she'd brush off the idea of being careful. She'd say something wry and dismissive. She might even laugh — that low, rough chuckle of hers. But this time, she looks Rex in the eye, her grip on him tightening. ]

I'll try. [ Finally, she makes her fingers uncurl, releasing him. ] But I need you. I don't... [ Her jaw works. ] I don't fucking trust myself.