I don't suppose you'd be up for another round of no strings attached casual sex.
I could use a distraction. No hard feelings if not, so long as you promise drinks aren't off the table.
[ she doesn't think asking will ruin her friendship with natasha, much the same way the initial sex hadn't, and she genuinely won't mind if the answer is no. ]
[It's not long before Natasha responds, enough for her to consider the offer and if it changes anything. It might be dangerously close to friends with benefits, but... well, if that's the biggest risk there, she could handle that.
She's very confident it wouldn't go further. Neither of them are interested in that.]
Drinks are absolutely on the table.
A little casual sex can be too. Figuratively speaking. Literally might get us kicked out of the common areas.
[ andy is easy, both figuratively and sexually, that a rejection wouldn't have been terrible, but she's a little relieved it comes back positive all around. she doesn't really want to be around people, but she does want sex, a classic conundrum. natasha just strikes her as someone who can meet her at her level, whatever that is. ]
In theory I'm not opposed to tables or a little exhibitionism but lately I'm feeling more low-key.
My room's open again, if you prefer. [ she just gets that vibe from natasha, and she's headed there for another alcohol run at any rate. ]
[ this is what she often does when she's trying to go off the grid, only she does not have the 'stranger' part for 'fucking a stranger' available in her list of coping mechanisms on the ximilia. she's bound to run into all of them again at some point, so natasha makes sense. they've already done it and carried on as normal. ]
[ when natasha gets to her room, andy doesn't really dive into small talk so much as she dives into natasha. there's some room for the joking banter they had last time, but andy's much more tunnel visioned to the physicality. it's entirely possible natasha might recognize it as the actions of someone who doesn't really want to think. she just wants to fuck, she was upfront about wanting a distraction. she's tired, a little frustrated, and struggling with the idea of her body as a shield, so maybe part of this is a reminder to herself that it's capable of less violent encounters too. ]
[ the only roughness tonight will be whatever, if anything, either of them ask for. ]
[Natasha clocks the vibe quick enough—it's not hard to adapt to. This time is no less fun than the last, in its way, but different. Less playful and more focused. Athletic, even. Andy had said she wanted a distraction, and she fucks like it. A little like she's looking for an outlet too, maybe.
Natasha has been there. While she can't identify the exact nature of it, she's had encounters herself where she was looking to be anything but a weapon for a little while. Someone whose body could be enjoyed. Dancing gave her that, and... well, sex.
It's not so hard to match Andy's energy after all.]
[ there's a relief in the way natasha easily folds into what andy's after, but it doesn't come without mild curiosity - it's too easy for the other woman for it to be anything but born of her own experience with that desire to escape something. it works, regardless, and it lets andy focus on the simple act of making her (and natasha's) body feel good. ]
[ when all is said and done, the pair of them spent and satisfied (of that andy has no doubts, maybe it's some kind of inherent smugness), andy simply lays there with that hazy feeling. her limbs are tired in a pleasant way, her brain sufficiently muted. she's flopped rather unceremoniously on the bed but comfortable, a leg lazily sprawled over natasha's with her arm tucked over the other woman's waist, as she lays on her side. her eyes are closed, but she isn't sleeping, though she hopes she'll pass out deeply enough at some point. ]
[ given her terrible sense of time, andy's not really sure how long they lay there in a welcome quiet before natasha shifts, just enough to get more comfortable, but it pulls andy's eyes open again. she should really roll away, fall asleep, let natasha sneak out like she presumes is her plan again, but instead she catches a glimpse of a scar and feels just a tiny bit heavy again. ]
[ it's not running away like she wants, but the question slips out anyway, perhaps intended to be a commiseration more than anything else. that's what she'll tell herself at least. she'll blame the fatigue. ]
[There's no question about whether or not Natasha is satisfied. She might not be the most vocal, but she knows how to make her wants known and she's clear about just how successful Andy is about meeting them.
This, at least, she's comfortable with.
She likes the part that comes after, too. The time when her body is warm and relaxed and for a brief while her she can turn her brain off. It doesn't last too long, but while it does she stays in Andy's bed, tangled in the other woman's longer limbs, and she savors it. It's only when she starts coming down from the afterglow that she starts to stir.
She doesn't mean to disturb Andy as she moves, but she may have misestimated how close she was to falling asleep.
Pausing on the question, Natasha lets the question sink in, then settles back in to the mattress.]
Yeah. [She closes her eyes, knowing exactly what Andy means.] Often. Sometimes so tired it hurts.
[ listen, if you can't cater to your partner's wishes, what's the point? ]
[ andy at least has the decency to look upward at the ceiling for a moment, recognizing the potential of the question. perhaps she was simply too tired to care, because despite everything, despite the post sex elation she clings to, that exhaustion sits deep in her bones. ]
[ she laughs in understanding, briefly, but the sound is probably more bitter than natasha might have heard from her before. ]
It's like sometimes I don't know what to do with it.
[ she idly taps her fingers against natasha's skin, unaware of the movement. ]
Not to be a drag. I definitely prefer this kind of tired.
[Natasha stays still, not drawing attention to the touch. It occurs to her she could still leave. Andy wouldn't stop her, she's very confident of that. It's probably that freedom that makes it easy to stay.
Or maybe it's because the sentiment strikes a chord with ier.]
I think that's one of the reasons I try not to stop moving. As long as I don't stop, maybe I won't have to stop and notice.
[This is a much better kind of tired. More honest.]
[ maybe it's the fact that she does know natasha would and could leave any time she wanted but isn't that settles andy some about bringing it up. sometimes she just wants to acknowledge how tired she is. but her brothers are gone, and she's not sure who else gets that feeling. that sluggishness, that endless ache of life. ]
[ she laughs again, this one quieter, maybe less bitter, but still edging on a hollowness. she recognizes that feeling too. ]
I don't think it's possible for me to be still. [ she was born of the steppe, after all, and her inability to stop moving has escalated with immortality. she's been mobile since the beginning. ]
I've always been moving. It's a comfort, I suppose. Pain in the ass here, though. [ hard to fuck off on a space station. ]
[It's not the same, she figures. Just on the scope of things, Andy has been around for a long time. A staggeringly long time, really. Natasha can't imagine it.
She's not sure she wants to. She takes a deep breath, not quite sighing in sympathy.]
Usually it's not that much of a problem. Back home, there's always something. Another mission, or a calamity, or...
[ andy often disappears for long stretches of time that ultimately come out to feel like no time at all. she would vanish off the station for a year and come back, but it feels like failing quỳnh, so she's stuck. restlessly so. ]
I like to go off the grid. I get tired of missions and people and... involvement. [ it was admittedly part of her decision to step back on the last mission. she gets tired of existence. hers is just too long. she's come a long way in her time on the ship, but those feelings don't get erased because she's not jiving as cynically. ]
[ she tilts her head enough to shoot natasha a bemused look. ] Sharks. [ she tries to sound amused, half a question too. ] Do you have experience fighting sharks, too?
[The question gets a chuckle out of Natasha. She had that one coming—she didn't exactly connect the dots.]
They say when sharks stop swimming they suffocate. [She shifts a little, stretching rather than getting up. Her tone is low and a little less dry than normal when she adds:] Luckily very little punching sharks.
[Her gaze shifts back to Andy then, taking in the curve of her cheek and her neck, wondering just how fast things must seem to her.]
What would you do if you could take a break? Climb K2?
[ andy smiles, faintly, at natasha's laugh, idly thinking back to their conversation about getting her to laugh more. her eyes close again, making her miss the way natasha looks at her. ]
They say a lot of things about sharks, but they're also less dangerous than hippos.
[ her thumb moves idly against natasha, again a gesture andy isn't thinking about. ]
I've done K2 before. Usually with Joe. But Denali is my favorite to solo. [ she frowns a little. ] He left. I'm not sure if you knew yet.
I always wanted to be less dangerous than a hippo.
[Natasha could ask Andy to stop. She doesn't. The contact seems like a way to draw the moment out a little longer, not to have to retreat to the shower and then her own bed.
She will, eventually. That's the plan.
But not yet.]
I noticed. [Regarding Joe.] I'm sorry. He's a good guy—I'll miss having him around.
They're a pretty high bar, so I think you could settle for second place.
[ she definitely recognizes how dangerous natasha is and can be. it's one of her favorite things about the other woman! ]
[ her hand stills, but stays in place. she's simply a tactile creature, her touch often a whim in these quieter moments. ]
I'll miss having him here, but I know I'll see him again. I'm usually just more guilty of leaving first. [ maybe that's part of what feels so off about it here and now. she's stuck and joe left. a beat. ] Iceland's not a bad place to get lost either.
[ the smallest of smiles creeps again onto her face. ] You joke, but that was probably a part of it. They're not usually apart this long.
[ she misses nicky too, but not with the same ache. she's been away from them both for years at a time before. ]
[ there's a patch of quiet before she speaks again. there's no going home to someone the same way for andy, not without finishing what she started here. ]
I'm pretty good at disappearing anywhere. Ximilia notwithstanding.
I don't doubt that. Which is really something, considering you don't exactly get lost in a crowd.
[It could have been a compliment, one directed at Andy's looks, but the admiration in how Natasha says that is for the skill. Andy is a very attractive woman, and in a way that tends to stand out—tall and self-contained. There are ways to vanish though, techniques for moving among other people and not attracting attention.
And there's skills involved in going dark, especially in the modern era. Once upon a time, it was possible to just walk into the forest and leave people behind. Now there are cameras waiting for when you come out again.]
I'd be lying if I said I didn't see the appeal sometimes. Go do a tour as a hermit somewhere.
[ she laughs again, a little bit, the sound more muted. ]
It's easier now that people have gotten taller on average. [ it's not a dig at natasha. but when she was merely a thousand years old, most women were practically a foot shorter than her. she towered over a lot of the men too. ]
[ but she supposes she didn't have that same compulsion to vanish back then either. ]
The world is so... different, in such a short time. [ the technological boom is about as old as booker. ] It's harder to disappear, but not impossible. And when I get tired like this, that's all I want to do.
I can only imagine. Even in my lifetime, things have changed a lot—it's gotten a lot harder to vanish.
[In forty years, what being a spy looks like has changed so much. Information that used to be inaccessible or difficult to obtain was now a few keystrokes away and every single person is suddenly carrying cameras and communication tools in their pocket.
In a lot of cases they're taking the pictures spies used to engineer for weeks to get themselves, so all you need to do is access their phone.
On the other hand, that access was a two edged sword.]
I suppose no one can ever stop you from just walking out into the steppes.
Fucking tell me about it. I can't keep up with it all. [ she's not even a spy, and it's annoyingly tiresome trying to keep their footprints away from the world. booker does - did, she supposes - his best, but it's not like andy can set the internet on fire from a single location like she could a collection of photos. ]
[ wars are far more documented now than they used to be, and andy often finds herself pulled into them. ]
I'd like to say no one can stop me from doing anything, but it's not always true. [ she wouldn't be here if it were. she closes her eyes again, this time out of that aching exhaustion. she's immortal, but not superhuman. ]
There's no steppe here. Not the real one. I've probably seen every inch of it, from Ukraine to China to cultures displaced and destroyed, just like the Hivawei. [ despite bringing them up, andy wouldn't say she is particularly devastated by their losses, not like some of the other orbers seem to be. ]
[It's got to be different seeing the Hivawei from the perspective of having already seen thousands of years worth of civilization rise and fall and be replaced again. Maybe that wasn't the same scale as an entire planet, but on the other hand what difference did it make to some ancient tribesman who's culture had been forgotten that humanity itself still existed.
The size and weight of it is more than Natasha can really wrap her mind around, but the idea does occur to her, like a shadow moving across the sky.]
I have a hard time seeing anyone stopping you from doing for very long. Maybe for a while, but... in the long run.
[Andy strikes her as fairly untameable.]
If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
[ it made it easier for andy to accept their fate perhaps, easier for her to initially against deciding to help. it's likely she wouldn't even remember much about the hivawei in the grand scheme either. she is stateless. culture-less. it's happened over and over, and it ties into her fatigue over the repetition of hurting herself through endless life. ]
[ she snorts, the sound more bitter than amused. she thinks of quỳnh. ] I wouldn't be here if I was always unstoppable.
[ she hums in thought but really the answer is easy. ] The steppe. The Ukok Plateau. [ she mindlessly taps against natasha's hip again. ] What about you?
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text | un: andy
I could use a distraction. No hard feelings if not, so long as you promise drinks aren't off the table.
[ she doesn't think asking will ruin her friendship with natasha, much the same way the initial sex hadn't, and she genuinely won't mind if the answer is no. ]
text; un: romanoff
She's very confident it wouldn't go further. Neither of them are interested in that.]
Drinks are absolutely on the table.
A little casual sex can be too. Figuratively speaking. Literally might get us kicked out of the common areas.
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In theory I'm not opposed to tables or a little exhibitionism but lately I'm feeling more low-key.
My room's open again, if you prefer. [ she just gets that vibe from natasha, and she's headed there for another alcohol run at any rate. ]
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Natasha tends to be more of a yours person when the question comes up.]
In that case, I'll head over. See you in five.
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[ when natasha gets to her room, andy doesn't really dive into small talk so much as she dives into natasha. there's some room for the joking banter they had last time, but andy's much more tunnel visioned to the physicality. it's entirely possible natasha might recognize it as the actions of someone who doesn't really want to think. she just wants to fuck, she was upfront about wanting a distraction. she's tired, a little frustrated, and struggling with the idea of her body as a shield, so maybe part of this is a reminder to herself that it's capable of less violent encounters too. ]
[ the only roughness tonight will be whatever, if anything, either of them ask for. ]
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Natasha has been there. While she can't identify the exact nature of it, she's had encounters herself where she was looking to be anything but a weapon for a little while. Someone whose body could be enjoyed. Dancing gave her that, and... well, sex.
It's not so hard to match Andy's energy after all.]
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[ when all is said and done, the pair of them spent and satisfied (of that andy has no doubts, maybe it's some kind of inherent smugness), andy simply lays there with that hazy feeling. her limbs are tired in a pleasant way, her brain sufficiently muted. she's flopped rather unceremoniously on the bed but comfortable, a leg lazily sprawled over natasha's with her arm tucked over the other woman's waist, as she lays on her side. her eyes are closed, but she isn't sleeping, though she hopes she'll pass out deeply enough at some point. ]
[ given her terrible sense of time, andy's not really sure how long they lay there in a welcome quiet before natasha shifts, just enough to get more comfortable, but it pulls andy's eyes open again. she should really roll away, fall asleep, let natasha sneak out like she presumes is her plan again, but instead she catches a glimpse of a scar and feels just a tiny bit heavy again. ]
[ it's not running away like she wants, but the question slips out anyway, perhaps intended to be a commiseration more than anything else. that's what she'll tell herself at least. she'll blame the fatigue. ]
Do you ever just feel... too fucking tired?
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This, at least, she's comfortable with.
She likes the part that comes after, too. The time when her body is warm and relaxed and for a brief while her she can turn her brain off. It doesn't last too long, but while it does she stays in Andy's bed, tangled in the other woman's longer limbs, and she savors it. It's only when she starts coming down from the afterglow that she starts to stir.
She doesn't mean to disturb Andy as she moves, but she may have misestimated how close she was to falling asleep.
Pausing on the question, Natasha lets the question sink in, then settles back in to the mattress.]
Yeah. [She closes her eyes, knowing exactly what Andy means.] Often. Sometimes so tired it hurts.
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[ andy at least has the decency to look upward at the ceiling for a moment, recognizing the potential of the question. perhaps she was simply too tired to care, because despite everything, despite the post sex elation she clings to, that exhaustion sits deep in her bones. ]
[ she laughs in understanding, briefly, but the sound is probably more bitter than natasha might have heard from her before. ]
It's like sometimes I don't know what to do with it.
[ she idly taps her fingers against natasha's skin, unaware of the movement. ]
Not to be a drag. I definitely prefer this kind of tired.
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[Natasha stays still, not drawing attention to the touch. It occurs to her she could still leave. Andy wouldn't stop her, she's very confident of that. It's probably that freedom that makes it easy to stay.
Or maybe it's because the sentiment strikes a chord with ier.]
I think that's one of the reasons I try not to stop moving. As long as I don't stop, maybe I won't have to stop and notice.
[This is a much better kind of tired. More honest.]
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[ she laughs again, this one quieter, maybe less bitter, but still edging on a hollowness. she recognizes that feeling too. ]
I don't think it's possible for me to be still. [ she was born of the steppe, after all, and her inability to stop moving has escalated with immortality. she's been mobile since the beginning. ]
I've always been moving. It's a comfort, I suppose. Pain in the ass here, though. [ hard to fuck off on a space station. ]
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She's not sure she wants to. She takes a deep breath, not quite sighing in sympathy.]
Usually it's not that much of a problem. Back home, there's always something. Another mission, or a calamity, or...
[Or she always found something.]
Sharks.
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I like to go off the grid. I get tired of missions and people and... involvement. [ it was admittedly part of her decision to step back on the last mission. she gets tired of existence. hers is just too long. she's come a long way in her time on the ship, but those feelings don't get erased because she's not jiving as cynically. ]
[ she tilts her head enough to shoot natasha a bemused look. ] Sharks. [ she tries to sound amused, half a question too. ] Do you have experience fighting sharks, too?
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They say when sharks stop swimming they suffocate. [She shifts a little, stretching rather than getting up. Her tone is low and a little less dry than normal when she adds:] Luckily very little punching sharks.
[Her gaze shifts back to Andy then, taking in the curve of her cheek and her neck, wondering just how fast things must seem to her.]
What would you do if you could take a break? Climb K2?
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They say a lot of things about sharks, but they're also less dangerous than hippos.
[ her thumb moves idly against natasha, again a gesture andy isn't thinking about. ]
I've done K2 before. Usually with Joe. But Denali is my favorite to solo. [ she frowns a little. ] He left. I'm not sure if you knew yet.
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[Natasha could ask Andy to stop. She doesn't. The contact seems like a way to draw the moment out a little longer, not to have to retreat to the shower and then her own bed.
She will, eventually. That's the plan.
But not yet.]
I noticed. [Regarding Joe.] I'm sorry. He's a good guy—I'll miss having him around.
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[ she definitely recognizes how dangerous natasha is and can be. it's one of her favorite things about the other woman! ]
[ her hand stills, but stays in place. she's simply a tactile creature, her touch often a whim in these quieter moments. ]
I'll miss having him here, but I know I'll see him again. I'm usually just more guilty of leaving first. [ maybe that's part of what feels so off about it here and now. she's stuck and joe left. a beat. ] Iceland's not a bad place to get lost either.
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She misses a lot of people.]
I imagine he was in a hurry to get back to his man.
[With a bit more humor. She'd heard about Nicky on multiple occasions, always with an amount of affection that was both cloying and endearing.]
Iceland is nice. I prefer Norway—easier to get out with if things go sideways.
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[ she misses nicky too, but not with the same ache. she's been away from them both for years at a time before. ]
[ there's a patch of quiet before she speaks again. there's no going home to someone the same way for andy, not without finishing what she started here. ]
I'm pretty good at disappearing anywhere. Ximilia notwithstanding.
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[It could have been a compliment, one directed at Andy's looks, but the admiration in how Natasha says that is for the skill. Andy is a very attractive woman, and in a way that tends to stand out—tall and self-contained. There are ways to vanish though, techniques for moving among other people and not attracting attention.
And there's skills involved in going dark, especially in the modern era. Once upon a time, it was possible to just walk into the forest and leave people behind. Now there are cameras waiting for when you come out again.]
I'd be lying if I said I didn't see the appeal sometimes. Go do a tour as a hermit somewhere.
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It's easier now that people have gotten taller on average. [ it's not a dig at natasha. but when she was merely a thousand years old, most women were practically a foot shorter than her. she towered over a lot of the men too. ]
[ but she supposes she didn't have that same compulsion to vanish back then either. ]
The world is so... different, in such a short time. [ the technological boom is about as old as booker. ] It's harder to disappear, but not impossible. And when I get tired like this, that's all I want to do.
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[In forty years, what being a spy looks like has changed so much. Information that used to be inaccessible or difficult to obtain was now a few keystrokes away and every single person is suddenly carrying cameras and communication tools in their pocket.
In a lot of cases they're taking the pictures spies used to engineer for weeks to get themselves, so all you need to do is access their phone.
On the other hand, that access was a two edged sword.]
I suppose no one can ever stop you from just walking out into the steppes.
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[ wars are far more documented now than they used to be, and andy often finds herself pulled into them. ]
I'd like to say no one can stop me from doing anything, but it's not always true. [ she wouldn't be here if it were. she closes her eyes again, this time out of that aching exhaustion. she's immortal, but not superhuman. ]
There's no steppe here. Not the real one. I've probably seen every inch of it, from Ukraine to China to cultures displaced and destroyed, just like the Hivawei. [ despite bringing them up, andy wouldn't say she is particularly devastated by their losses, not like some of the other orbers seem to be. ]
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The size and weight of it is more than Natasha can really wrap her mind around, but the idea does occur to her, like a shadow moving across the sky.]
I have a hard time seeing anyone stopping you from doing for very long. Maybe for a while, but... in the long run.
[Andy strikes her as fairly untameable.]
If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
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[ she snorts, the sound more bitter than amused. she thinks of quỳnh. ] I wouldn't be here if I was always unstoppable.
[ she hums in thought but really the answer is easy. ] The steppe. The Ukok Plateau. [ she mindlessly taps against natasha's hip again. ] What about you?
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