cactusy | IC contact for lastvoyages

[ Bright lights. A cursor blinking on a screen. Neurons firing, current flowing through circuit boards. Human consciousness, tiny points in the cosmos. Mere moments in infinity.

Root smiles against Shaw's neck, pressing her chest against Shaw's, pressing in a second finger. Root will make her see stars. ]

"Streetlights," she clarifies after a moment, hips juttering as she presses up against Root's hand. It's unusual, maybe, but there's an image starting to coelesce here.

[ No testing now. Root strokes harder with her hand and thumb. ]

She never sleeps. [ Root nips at Shaw's earlobe. ] She lights the way through the darkness.

Are you reciting poetry to me right now? Nerd.

[She says it breathlessly, leaning up to press her forehead against Root's shoulder. It's a moment or two before she adds:]

There were streetlights on in the park that night.

[The night she'd landed herself back in the city after escaping from the Decima facility. The night Root had found her.]

I'm making it up as I go.

[ Her free hand cradles Shaw's head, like on that night. ]

She helped you come back to me. [ Root moans softly. Shaw feels so good around her fingers. ] She brought you home.

I don't actually think of the Machine as God.

[She slides her fingers against Root's wrist, feeling her pulse point.]

But bright lights. That really is what I think of.

[ Root's pulse is fast and firm, caught up in the way Shaw sounds and feels, how they've defied death itself and are together here. Here-and-now. The skin where her fresh tattoo is stings. Root bites her lip.

She could go on and on on this subject, about how the idea of God only makes sense if such a being were like the Machine. About how She heard Root's pleas and answered them. About the way She balances the common good with the least harm in a way that no mythological deity ever could. And she could say that those streetlights are like little stars, guideposts in cities the way stars guided mariners and seafarers in ages past. There's relativity, and the idea that spacetime is cyclical and eternal, beginnings and endless, and that the only real thing is the here-and-now. The only real thing is this, the two of them holding onto each other. ]

If there's a heaven, it's being with you.

I missed you.

[It's a broken refrain by this point, but she doesn't know how else to express the things that Root is saying to her in any other way. She curls her fingers into Root's clothes, tugging her closer.]

Root--

[ With a shuddering breath, Root presses closer, stroking harder with her hand and thumb. ]

Sam. I love you.

Would you want to...

[She pauses, hesitating.]

[ Root does not take that the way it's meant. Her grin goes wicked and adoring. ]

You don't need to ask me permission to come, sweetie.

[ Not today, at least. ]

[Shaw closes her eyes, breathes deeply to make her heart slow its pace a little, and presses her palm flat against Root's stomach.]

No, Root, I mean-- would you want to. Get married, or something.

[ That's such a Shaw way to say it that it's easy not to break stride. Even so, Root's breath catches, fingers shifting on Shaw's head, her other hand slowing a little as it registers that yes, she heard currently: Shaw is asking her to get married. ]

Yes. Yes, Sameen.

Yeah?

[She lifts her head from Root's shoulder, a little - not enough to meet her gaze, but enough to let her kiss her shoulder instead.]

Okay.

[ Shaw will feel more than hear Root laugh, it's so quiet. She's delighted, and she's going to ride this feeling for hours and days and probably longer.

Shaw kisses her shoulder, and Root angles her neck so she can get a good, solid bite under Shaw's ear, because what better way to show how happy she is than marking up her fiancee-- her fiancee!-- in agreed-upon ways? ]

[Shaw shudders again, and very nearly comes right then and there.]

You're sure?

[She asks, simultaneously lifting her head to make eye contact and grinding her hips up against Root's hand.]

[ There's not even a flicker of doubt in Root's eyes as she nods. ]

I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

[ She leans in and rests her forehead on Shaw's. ]

[Shaw exhales, more relieved than she'd thought she would be. It's not that she'd actually expected Root to say no, but all the same, she hadn't quite realized how much she'd wanted her to say yes. A lot of the trappings of weddings are things she has no interest in, and a lot of the practical benefits for marriage don't really apply here - but still, there's something to be said for looking at another person and saying I pick you. Let's make an official pact to stick together. She is, at heart, still a military woman. She understands the value of ceremony, tradition, and formality.]

Then I'm lucky.

[She bumps her forehead lightly into Root's.]

We both are.

[ And she will not bring her God into this.

Instead Root pulls hard on Shaw's hair and none too gently kisses down her neck. ]

[And the sting from the hair-pull is what finally pushes her over the edge. She gasps quietly, her breath hot against Root's cheek, and she clenches down around her fingers, going boneless against the cushions.]

[ Root stays close, and cuddles even closer when she pulls her hand out. She wipes her fingers on the top she took off a while ago and kisses Shaw's cheek. ]

You look really beautiful like this.

Like what, in post-orgasmic haze?

[She asks, walking her fingers up Root's back.]

-- I had a whole plan. I was gonna tattoo a ring on you.

Mmhmmm. [ She nuzzles Shaw's cheek. The way Shaw looks satisfied, relaxed, not thinking about someone trying to kill them, certain that this is real. ]

You still should. It'll be the best ring ever.

Gimme your hand.

[Shaw says, sitting up a little and reaching for the gun.]

I figured there are times when a real ring would be a pain - too many opportunities for it to get lost, or something. But I can get you one. Something small and thin.

[Big diamonds don't really seem like Root's style, at least not on a day-to-day basis.]

[ This is real. This isn't a dream. This is really happening. She is not dead. Shaw is not being held captive. They are here together, and they are now engaged. aaaaaaa

Root holds out her hand, booping Shaw's nose on the way. ]

Practical and romantic. You sure know how to make me weak in the knees.

IC contact for lastvoyages

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