Spy who didn't expect this would require so much... fluid

The hangar was quieter than usual. It was never completely empty, but there were no teams rushing overnight repairs, and — more importantly for Quinn — Riz had been called away for a solo mission.

Quinn sat contemplatively in her mech, looking across at Cat, as she had done for the past several nights. A Riz-free hangar was a rare opportunity that wasn't to be squandered, and yet, squandered it she had. Her mission briefing bounced around her head, trying to solidify into something actionable. She bit her lip, chewing on it gently.

How was she supposed to get this close, to get this level of understanding, and not get attached? She didn't have the training for this; she was a comms tech.

Perhaps she could just lie on the report? Explain some of the weirdness, but soften it enough to be unactionable?

No. The captain only gave her this mission to confirm his suspicions; he wasn't a man to be swayed by the thoughts of others. He'd always been like that. It served him well in his work, most of the time, but at family gatherings it made him the uncle that everyone kept at arm's length.

She just had to find the right angle. Just come up with a plan. Or perhaps — her chest tightened at the thought — she could work her way back to unattachment. It seemed to be the strategy Hex was employing.

The pain of her lip splitting open brought her back to reality, and she winced as she licked away the blood.

Right, Riz would probably be back within the day; no more wasting chances.

She climbed out of her mech and made her way across to the opposite bay. The cockpit on Cat was open, and she let out a cheery "Hey, Hex, how's it going?" as she approached.

Hex returned a flat "Hey," but made no attempt to even look her way.

Quinn looked at the mystery in front of her, and mentally cursed herself as she took "unattachment" off the table.

She longed to learn more. She'd been around her for weeks now, talked with her, eaten with her, but still knew so little. She'd seen the patch of skin below her neck during meals, but whatever else sat beneath her clothes remained a mystery that burned at her.

Hex didn't eat like the rest, bypassing her mouth with liquid nutrient. Jaw replacement? Quinn didn't know the details of what had happened to her, but knew it had been bad.

When she did eat, it wasn't much. What was below the suit? Full body coverage, never undone, never opened for heat or comfort, and often stretched by her surely-uncomfortable positions and posture. How much flesh was left under there? How much of it needed food, and how much ran on batteries? She was certainly hooked up to her mech often enough for even a full cyborg to get by on a trickle charge.

And then there was the helmet, never removed. Was it more than the jaw? She could speak clearly, so surely it can't have been much, but she seldom gave many words. Did it hurt? Nerve damage? Brain? Or maybe an imperfect neural hookup on too many replacement parts?

"You're staring."

The voice startled her, and she noticed Hex had turned her head to face her.

"Sorry," said Quinn guiltily, "I was lost in thought."

Hex didn't reply, but Quinn realised with growing embarrassment that beneath that expressionless faceplate, Hex could have been watching her the whole time.

"Sorry," she said again, a little sweeter, "if I made you uncomfortable."

Hex didn't respond immediately, but Quinn felt like she was being sized up. She shuffled her feet, feeling exposed under the blank stare.

"You're staring," she echoed eventually, hoping it came off more playful than reproachful.

"Sorry," said Hex, with no change in tone and without looking away, "I was lost in thought."

"What about?" probed Quinn. It felt like she was still under examination, but she had to take the chances she was given, even if the answer had the same high likelihood of being bullshit as most things out of Hex's mouth.

"You."

"Oh?"

The word came out smoothly enough, but she was afraid to look away for fear of losing all resolve. Did she suspect her? Hex liked to play around, in her own way, and running from it would reveal more than playing along.

"Get in."

Before she could understand the instruction, her body had already begun to follow it. Well, too late to say no.

"Why?" she asked, following it with an attempt at a lighthearted laugh.

The interior was cramped, never designed to house more than one person, and she gave up on hunching over almost immediately, settling instead into a squat in front of Hex. She became aware of the heat in her cheeks, rising higher in this new, more vulnerable position.

Quinn could only handle the silent stare for a few seconds before she repeated, weaker, "Why?" She started to stand again, saying "Maybe I should go—"

"Why are you interested in me?"

"You're interesting," said Quinn, truthfully. She lowered herself back to the floor.

"Not an answer."

"It's more of an answer than you usually give."

Hex said nothing, instead just continuing to stare and proving the point.

"I—," started Quinn, wanting to break the silence. "Several reasons, I guess."

"As a squadmate?"

"Yeah. I like to know who I'm working with."

"Romantically?"

"What? No!" sputtered Quinn. Even as a joke, that ramped up too quickly.

"Physically?"

"Wha— Ah— I'm going!"

She'd made it half way across the threshold before Hex said, "Stop. Back."

She followed the order. Why did she follow the order? On reflection later, she blamed her training. In moments of emotional distress, it was important that soldiers still followed orders from their superiors, and it had been drilled into her from an early age.

"Not an answer," said Hex, once the other woman was back crouching at her feet.

Quinn stared back silently, refusing to answer, but she couldn't beat Hex at her own game, breaking easily under the weight of the black glass non-expression.

"Ok, fine. Even if I said 'no' now, it wouldn't be believable, would it?"

"No."

"Then sure, yes, physically."

"Explain."

"I— You know..." Quinn murmured, squirming away. "You're... interesting."

"Wanna fuck me?"

Quinn didn't lose complete composure, but perhaps only because she had barely any remaining.

"Whyyy?" she whined. "Is this some cruel joke?"

"On suggestion. No."

"Suggestion to what?"

"Fuck."

"Who would tell you to fuck me?"

"Not you, someone. Don't wanna go to recreation deck."

"Why?"

"Crowded."

"I mean, why the suggestion?"

Hex said nothing, and Quinn felt the control flow back to her enough to look her in the face again.

"If you're not going to talk, I'm going to leave," she said, building a sandcastle of confidence.

"Definitely not romantically?"

"I'd have to know literally anything about you for that. And don't dodge the question."

"You did."

"What?"

"Dodge the question."

"What questio—" started Quinn, before the tide of realisation crashed over her. "Oh... I mean... I can't say I'm against the idea..."

There was a soft rumble below her feet as the auxiliary hydraulics system started up, and Quinn resisted the sudden urge to bolt through the closing cockpit door, trying to focus on the conversation instead.

"Your turn. Why the suggestion?"

"Unsure."

Quinn let her face relax into a look of dissatisfaction, an unconvinced eyebrow rising alone.

"Nova," Hex conceded.

Ah. Quinn didn't fully get it, but that sounded like the kind of advice Nova would give. She seemed like the type to either crush problems head-on, or drown them in hedonism. This probably wasn't what she had in mind, but she also wasn't here right now, and who was gonna tell her?

Hex was still looking at her, almost expectantly. Well, it was hard to tell, but she assumed it was expectantly anyway. Hoped?

"What are you staring for now?" she asked.

"Waiting."

"For?"

...

"You don't do this often, do you."

...

Quinn shoved her tongue into her cheek in thought briefly, before deciding: fuck it. She'd unbuttoned her jacket and shirt and shuffled out of them before the embarrassment caught up.

"Eyes closed."

She looked up at Hex to check her instruction had been followed, then realised she just had to trust that it was. She pulled her bra off over her head, blaming the growing heat in her face on the small, enclosed space. As she reached to untie her boots, she paused.

"Um... You can look now, I guess..."

Hex shifted slightly in her chair, looking more alert, and Quinn felt the blush surge in her cheeks and excitement thrill up her thighs, her hips, her spine, under the gaze. A thin blanket of comfort and encouragement wrapped around her too, realising Hex had done as she'd asked.

"This is feeling a little one-sided here," said Quinn, looking at a random spot on the floor.

"What do you want?"

"An eye for an eye seems fair," she suggested, making flickering glances across Hex's body.

"Want, not what's fair."

Quinn opened her mouth to push back, then shut it again. She let her eyes scan over Hex in more detail, greedy eyes now lingering with an impatient hunger.

"I don't know. Anything. Everything," said Quinn, now fumbling at her bootlaces. "That suit can only come off one way, right?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I don't know. Just unzip."

"Where? It's you that sees the appeal."

"Your front?" said Quinn in exasperation, before falling on her arse trying to take off a boot.

Hex's hand ran down a seam from her neck to her hips, the stiff suit parting to reveal her body beneath.

In the dim light, Quinn could make out countless scars, from surgery and injury, the edge of an old burn bordering a large patch of synthskin that disappeared below the suit.

As Hex hesitantly pulled it open further, a subtle asymmetry in her ribcage, clung to too tightly by unpadded skin, hinted at titanium replacements, but other than a couple more ports, the only further surprise was the lack of surprises.

"Not much to look at," said Hex, head turned aside.

"Then show me more," said Quinn, making the most of her position to wriggle out of the flightsuit she'd been wearing up to the waist. Once free, she crawled forward between Hex's legs, kneeling on the bundled flightsuit to protect from the cold, hard floor.

"More, Hex," she repeated, and reached out to trace a finger down from Hex's chest, pausing briefly before making contact: a moment to allow either of them to stop this going any further.

Bracing herself with her other arm on Hex's leg, she ran her hand back up the side without synthskin, slipping it beneath the suit and lingering over every scar and replaced rib before hesitantly coming to a gentle rest on her breast, thumb making uncertain circles around her nipple.

Her skin, smooth but for the bumps of scars and scattered patches of suit-irritation, was surprisingly soft, and Quinn leant in closer to lightly kiss her abdomen, lips barely grazing to begin with, but getting more forceful with each touch.

As she travelled downward, kissing as low as the suit would allow, she looked up for guidance.

Hex was quiet as ever, the only sound her somewhat shallowed, quickened breathing, but she'd rested her head back against the chair.

From this angle, Quinn briefly saw the outline of Hex's jaw beneath the helmet, skin natural and dull, before her gaze flinched away. Despite the current situation, that still probably wasn't something that had been intentionally revealed.

She was here to collect information though, so maybe...

A quick glance back was all it took for the guilt she'd been mulling over for the past few nights to return in a rush. Her whole purpose here was an invasion on Hex's privacy, and now she was going even further. It was purely for her own curiosity, too; Hex's injuries were obviously already known by their superiors, and they probably had ready access to her medical files. Selfish prying, that's all it was.

With eyes shut to keep from wandering upward again, she tugged down at Hex's suit and mumbled, muffled in firmly placed kisses, "I said more."

There was a pause, before the reply came, mirroring her once again — less clear this time whether it was an attempt at being playful — alongside a gentle push backwards, "Eyes closed."

She obeyed, sitting back impatiently. The turmoil of guilt swirled in her head, solutions even further from grasp than they had been earlier in the evening. There was one thing she could decide on though, eagerly and immediately: she was here to take from Hex, but tonight, she would give everything she could too.

"Done. Eyes stay closed."

That was disappointing, but if it's what she wanted...

Quinn fumbled forward, hands finding the bare skin of Hex's legs. No, not skin; not on the left: more synthskin. She moved forward, hands running up and around the thighs, exploring. Burns again, or was it something more?

Her fingers were greeted by metal, and she ran them along it, finding its boundaries, taking in the shape. It seemed to take the place of most of her posterior thigh muscles, and replaced everything below the knee.

Fighting the urge to open her eyes, she instead moved her right hand to join the left, trying to map out the prosthetic by touch. It wasn't like anything she'd seen before. Even when it came to military tech, unless you were really into the aesthetics or something, these things were usually made as close a substitute as possible: the artificial skin didn't look perfect, but at least it was roughly the right colour, and the nerves in it were better than nothing. Maybe it was a performance thing: it wasn't noticeable in her gait, and there wasn't the tell-tale whine of electric muscle; nothing like th—

"If that's what interests you, shoulda said."

"No, I—" stumbled Quinn, hands darting back to flesh. "Sorry. Just... Fuck, I can't tell if you were telling me off or being sincere."

"Both."

"I... don't know what that means," said Quinn, letting her arms drop to her sides. She briefly wanted to open her eyes, to read Hex's expressions, before realising how little that would help.

"Don't do this often, do you."

Quinn suppressed a giggle, more of relief than finding the mimicry actually funny. "Are you gonna parrot me every time you don't know what to say?"

"Caw."

"Maybe it was better when you weren't talking," laughed Quinn. "Ok, just for that..."

Moving with speed, she reached out to guide herself along Hex's leg, rapid-fire kisses zigzagging up her inner thigh, journey slowing the higher she got. Spurred on by Hex's gasping breaths, she spread her teasing to both legs, pushing them apart to inch her lips incrementally inward.

Hex's breathing grew more irregular, a light whimper escaping as her attempts at shifting her hips forward were denied again and again, Quinn punishing each try by backing off.

"Gonna stop repeating me then?" asked Quinn, smirk obvious in her voice.

"Better when you weren't talking," said Hex, breathily, before grabbing the back of Quinn's head and pulling her in.

Her surprise was quickly replaced by enthusiasm as she gave in, letting Hex's hand guide her movements, fingers now tangling into her hair, pulling strands loose from her ponytail. The quickconnect cable, still tying Hex to the Mech, teased against Quinn's ear. Why was she still connected? It was in standby, right? Gods, what would it be like to do this in full operating mode, the complete sensor array hooked straight into Hex's brain?

Fuck, that would be hot; definitely a proposition to make later, when her mouth wasn't quite so busy. Given how custom Cat was, Hex probably had a full proprioception setup and everything.

Quinn curled her arms up around Hex's thighs, fingers digging in deep — the little they could to the atrophied muscle, anyway. It was quickly getting difficult to hold herself steady on twitching legs alone, and she needed to get closer to Hex, current position of her own tongue only heightening the hunger rather than sating it.

Her left hand searched for the prosthetic again, fingers stroking along the transition from skin to alloy, focus torn between thoughts of the data travelling through the cable by her head, and the cute noises Hex was struggling to suppress. The stumbling, breathy words, too vague to make out amidst the swallowed moans, had more expression in each than everything Quinn had heard her say before, combined.

Ok, there was putting Hex first, and then there was senselessly punishing herself. She renewed her grip with her left hand before sliding the other between her own thighs, fingers moving in time with her tongue, her own pleasure and muffled moans in sync with Hex's.

---

Quinn let herself collapse onto the floor, resting her head on Hex's thigh. She lazily pecked at it with tired lips, riding the aftershocks down into bliss. While Hex breathed in long gulps of air, she took the opportunity to catch her own breath, unsure where to go from here, but savouring each twitch and shiver that came down Hex's leg, marvelling again at the complete lack of electromechanical whine.

"No," said Hex, after what felt like several minutes.

"...no?" asked Quinn, puzzled.

"Don't do this often."

Her voice had almost returned to its usual flat affect, a slight breathiness the only abnormality.

"Ah."

Quinn sat silently for a moment, sudden shyness leaving her unable to voice her instinctual reply.

"You could," she said eventually, uncertainly. "Do this often, I mean..."

"That an offer?"

"Maybe..."

Silence fell over them once more — Quinn squirming internally at her unanswered proposition — before it was broken again by Hex.

"Should clean up."

"Yeah, good idea..." said Quinn, relieved and disappointed at not getting an answer. She sat up, finally opening her eyes only when the sound of zips being done up came to an end.

Panic rose in her as she considered the logistics of the next 20 minutes.

"Wait, fuck, how am I gonna get back to the quarters in this state?" she asked, gesturing at her lower half.

"Hangar showers're closer," said Hex, before adding, "Can hack to lock."

"The hangar has showers?"

"Dirty."

"Wh— Oh, makes sense, I guess."

Quinn moved to get dressed, quickly realising another problem.

"Shit, I can't wear this!" she said, panic rising in her voice again as she pointed at the newly-damp flightsuit bundled at her feet.

"Wear mine," said Hex. When Quinn looked at her, confused, she explained, "Don't always wear it in hangar."

"You sure?"

"Will kill anyone that looks at me."

"I'm pretty sure that's against regulation," joked Quinn, trying to reassure herself as she pulled Hex's flightsuit on. It fit surprisingly well, considering their height difference, but then she remembered how baggy it had looked on Hex the few times she'd seen her in it.

"Let's go," said Hex, the door starting to open. She stood up, took a beat, then unplugged herself from the mech. If she ever accepted Quinn's offer, there was definitely going to be a discussion about that.

"What do you do, hooked up to Cat the whole time?" asked Quinn as she stepped out of the cockpit.

Hex gave no reply as she shut the door and led the way to the showers.