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Chapter Text

The first thing you noticed on waking up was the constant click-clack rhythm of the train on the tracks beneath you. Eyes struggling to open, you inhaled through your nose and moved your head away from the cool, hard surface it was resting on. Something warm and solid was pressed against your right side, and you leaned into it, scrunching your nose when something tickled it. Yawning, you forced your eyes open and looked down. 

Miranda’s cheek rested on your shoulder, her eyes closed and her breathing even. You glanced down at her side, checking for the millionth time since she was shot that blood was not pooling in her clothing once again. You’d never get that sight out of your mind, blood staining her cream coat and spreading wider and wider. Now, her black jumper concealed anything that might be happening, and you had to satisfy yourself that the stitches she had sewn herself would hold firm and help her heal. 

Miranda stirred, her head turning towards you so that her breath tickled your neck. You closed your eyes, slipping your hand into hers and softly kissing her head. When you pulled back, brown eyes were looking back. 

Right, because that was the other thing. The two of you had been in disguise for the last two weeks, laying low before finally hopping onto a train. Now, Miranda was shifting away from you, looking around, alert as ever. 

“Are you okay?” You squeezed her hand, and she looked back at you. It was still so unsettling not to see her blue eyes staring back. The brown softened her face a little but made her seem like her pupils were blown wide all the time. You were always thankful when you could find a safe place to sleep for the night, where she would allow you both to remove your disguises and rest. Being under Miranda’s protection was like being in focus constantly, never having a moment to fade into the background. She was always tense and on high alert, save for the moments when she finally allowed herself to rest. 

“Did you see anyone get onto our carriage?”

“No,” you replied gently, squeezing her hand again. “Only one family, but they didn’t stay. I did sleep a little, though.”

Miranda nodded and released your hand. She stood and pretended to check the luggage stowed above the two of you, looking up the carriage aisle as she did so. When she was satisfied, she sat back down. 

“No new faces.”

You yawned, wondering if she'd let you snooze more on her shoulder. One of those rare things she’d allow, begrudgingly that could be considered cuddling. That was, other than when you woke up in the morning and had become a koala, curled around her in the night. 

“How long until we get off?” Miranda smirked, and you rolled your eyes. “Not like that.”

Although it had been some time…

“Not long,” she murmured, reaching up to twist a lock of your wig around her finger. “This suits you, by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” She tugged on the strand and then settled back in her seat, leaving you staring at her. “Stick with me when we get off the train; we’ll move fast.”

“How fast?”

“Not fast enough to raise suspicion.” 

“So more of a ‘hurrying to catch the next train’ kind of rush?”

“Exactly.” Miranda’s hand slid protectively onto your thigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but fine. How are you?”
“Fine.”

“How’s your side?”

“Never better.”

“Liar.” You smiled fondly at her. “Be honest with me.”

Miranda fixed you with a look and her hand squeezed onto your thigh before sliding upward slowly. You pinned it between your legs firmly. Miranda’s lips curled. 

“Not worried about a little PDA now, are we, darling?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes at her. But when it’s being used as an avoidance technique…”

Miranda pulled her hand back, huffing, and you caught it before she could completely withdraw. Pulling it back to your lap and holding it between both of your hands, you rubbed your thumb over the smooth, soft skin below her knuckles. As usual, Miranda stiffened but then relaxed, shooting you a look that implied you were lucky she liked you. Which, you imagined you were. Most people would’ve lost their hand by now. 

“What am I going to do with you?”

Miranda’s voice, low and teasing, made warm tingles spread through your body.

“Oh,” you grinned, biting your lip. “I imagine you’ll come up with a list of things.”

Miranda’s eyes traced over your lips, and her tongue flicked out to wet her own. 

“I do have an extensive list.”

“And I look forward to working my way through it.” You leaned closer, feeling your nose brush her cheek. “But not until you’re better.”

Miranda’s chuckle was so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s in charge here?”

You resisted the urge to bury further into Miranda’s wig and breathe in the scent of her beneath the disguise. 

“I think the one without homemade stitches should have a chance.”

“While your concern is touching, it’s unnecessary. This is not the first time I’ve been shot or the worst. Probably won’t be the last, either. I’m certainly not injured enough to make the rash decision of putting you in charge.”

“Ha. Ha.” You rolled your eyes but then found yourself scanning her face, searching for a flicker, a chink in her armour. “How many times?”

She blinked. 

“What?” 

“How many times have you been shot?”

“Oh, four or five.” She waved her hand like it was nothing. “I lose track.”

“That’s not something I’d think is easy to lose track of.”

“Mm.”

“I’ve only seen two scars. And the new wound.”

“Mm.”

“You’re so informative, as usual.”

MIranda’s eyes stared you down, the corner of her lip twitching upward. 

“Mm.”

Huffing, you sank back into your seat, not missing the smirk on her lips at your defeat. 

“You’re so frustrating.”

“I could say the same thing about you, darling.”

“I’m nowhere near as frustrating as you are.”

“No?” Miranda’s smirk grew. “I’m pretty frustrated.”

“Are you flirting with me right before we have to start running again?”

“Maybe.” She flashed her teeth in a grin that was surprisingly wolfish… or perhaps it wasn’t a surprise at all. She did look hungry with those dark contacts in. “Or maybe I’m sorry we didn’t get another day or two of your memory back in peace before they came to ruin everything.”

“I don’t think a day or two would’ve been enough.”

“No.” Her hand slid onto your thigh again, possessively, and your skin heated in a sudden flush. “I don’t think it would be.”

“Miranda…”

Using her free hand, she placed her finger over your lips, and you parted them a little out of habit, breathing out against her skin. Her eyes darted down, and her finger moved, tugging down your bottom lip until it sprang back into place. 

“Do you have any idea…” Her hand moved up your thigh again, slipping between your legs, and this time you didn’t stop it. “What I want to do to you?”

“Fuck me?” You leaned in, your nose brushing hers and you caught the light but sharp inhale from her side. 

“Obviously,” Miranda smirked. She lingered for a moment, her nose tracing up the edge of yours, her breath on your lips as if any second she might close the gap. “But I was thinking about something a little more detailed.”

“Like what?”

“Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for choosing to travel with us today. We’ll soon be arriving at our final destination…” The announcement continued, and with a little eyebrow raise and smirk, Miranda pulled away. 

“Time we were going, darling.”

As the train pulled into the station, Miranda marched purposefully towards the doors with her hand firmly around yours. She kept you close, and when you reached the exit before the doors opened, she stood watchfully as though she were protecting you from everyone and anyone. Which, of course, she was. 

The platform was bustling with commuters, and you wondered if she’d timed it perfectly so you could get lost in the crowds. You held tight to her, the rucksack that you’d left her hideaway with strapped to your back. It was never far from you now, filled with the most useful things for a life on the run. 

You hoped you wouldn’t need it for the rest of your life. 

You hoped you’d have a long enough life to fulfil that sentiment. 

It wasn’t long before you were out into the street, and Miranda was tugging you along in the crowd of people again, so rapidly that you wondered why her stitches weren’t slowing her down. You’d have to check later when you were safe. 

Off into a side street, Miranda’s hand felt a little clammy in yours, and you could hear her laboured breathing. 

“Miranda, slow down.”

“Keep up.”

“I’m not worried about keeping up; I’m worried about you bursting a stitch before we get to wherever we’re going.”

She shot a glare back at you, but her grip slackening a little, as did her pace, and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“We can’t afford to be slow. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“You delaying your recovery isn’t going to help keep me safe.” You tugged on her hand, stopping her in her tracks. She looked back at you with frustration. You ignored her and stepped closer, cupping her face with your hand. “And it’s not going to keep you safe either.”

Miranda’s face twisted in an instinctual grimace, although her eyes flicked away, that avoidant desperation she always had a flash of when you got too emotional bubbling to the surface. She glanced back at you and you lowered your hand from her face. She pulled back with a little more relief than you liked, but then Miranda was on high alert, and she was never comfortable with softness anyway. You looked down to give her a moment. 

“I don’t matter.”

Your head darted up, but she was already looking away. 

“Yes, you do.”

She screwed up her mouth but didn’t argue. 

“We have to keep moving.”

“Okay.” 

You had to drop it. You could never get anywhere pushing her in this mood. 

She started walking again, not as fast as before, which you were relieved by, but at a decent pace. You moved from the side street onto another quieter road lined with cars. Looking up and down it, Miranda narrowed her eyes and then turned left. You followed, but it wasn’t long before she’d stopped next to a black car and leaned down, searching for something under the tyre. 

She stood up, a pair of keys in hand. You stared. She circled the car, disappearing on the other side to look underneath before resurfacing and popping the trunk. Satisfied, she closed it. 

“Get in.”

You blinked. 

“How did you-?”

“Will you just get in? I’ll explain when we’re moving.”

Throwing your bag into the footwell of the passenger side, you slid inside and settled back against the seat. Miranda checked the back seat before closing the door and putting the key in the ignition. You waited until she was out on the road, and the car was speeding off at a rate that was probably just above the speed limit, knowing her and then prompted her. 

“So..?”

Miranda gave a little snort. 

“I have connections.”

“I thought we couldn’t trust anyone.”

“We can’t.”

“So how come you trust whoever-”

“I don’t; that’s why I checked the car. Might be a tracker, so we’ll swap it later.”

You started to respond and then hesitated, and she shot you a look that said, ‘What?’

“You really can never relax, can you?”

“No.”

“Except when you were at the cabin?” She shrugged but didn’t commit to an answer. Guilt curled in your stomach. “I’m sorry.”

She frowned. 

“For what?”

“You liked it there, and if it weren’t for me, maybe they wouldn’t have found it.”

“Nothing is permanent, darling. They’d have found us eventually if they wanted to. Were you comfortable staying there for the rest of your life with only me for company?”

“Maybe.”

“Really?” She snorted. “You were getting cabin fever as it was.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’d have wanted my disguise. Gemma could’ve gotten a girlfriend.”

She glanced over and you couldn’t help but notice the little curl of the corner of her lips. 

“Is that what you are?”

 “Gemma’s girlfriend?” You smirked at her mischievously, and she rolled her eyes. “No, I like someone a little more brunette. Blue eyes. Less ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’.”

“I don’t have a sword.”

“You have knives.”

“There’s a difference.”

“Poke them with the sharp end. Same concept, right?”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know.”

Her smile sent a flutter through your chest, and you risked taking her hand from the gear stick and pulling it into your lap. Something was reassuring about tracing the blue lines of her veins as they tracked over the back of her hand, and the thin white scars that you imagined came from practicing with her knives. She didn’t pull her hand back at least, so you settled back and focused on creating little patterns. 

“Are you having fun?” 

“Yes.” You tilted your head to smile at her again. “I like your hands.”

“I know you do.”

Her smirk made you laugh and for the first time in a while you felt that weight lift from your chest. You breathed in deep and bit your lip. 

“You’re nowhere near as terrifying as you want people to believe you know.”

“I can be.”

“But you’re not. At least not with me.”

“I have a soft spot for idiots who try and get themselves killed.”

“To be fair,” you scoffed. “Aren’t you under the impression that you’re the one they want? So wouldn’t you be the idiot in this scenario?”

Miranda rolled her eyes and removed her hand from yours, much to your disappointment. She changed gear and, after a second, she slid her hand back into your lap. Happily, you picked it up again. 

“One of these days, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Oh yeah?” You chewed on your lip, pretending to think. “Suffocation by thigh?”

“We can only hope.”

Miranda’s dry response only made the warmth in your chest swell. You knew that if this kept going, you’d be far too tempted to return to that Gemma’s girlfriend comment. You weren’t sure it would be advisable. But then, this was the most relaxed Miranda had been since the cabin. 

“Do you…” You chewed on your lip again. “Has Gemma ever had a girlfriend?”

Miranda’s hand stiffened in yours, just briefly, but enough for you to notice. 

“You’re asking me about her backstory?”

“If that’s how you want to interpret it.”

“No.” Miranda swallowed, and her eyes were very firmly fixed ahead of her. “She’s never had a girlfriend.”

“Being a writer is lonely, I guess?” She didn’t answer. “But what if she did meet someone, and they-”

“Stop.” Miranda whispered, so faint you almost missed it. 

Opening your mouth, you closed it again and nodded, before looking out of the window. You’d gone too far, obviously, although you weren’t certain exactly what it was about what you’d been saying that had been the final straw. Maybe the possibility of a future when you were both still in so much danger. 

Her hand felt warm in your hand, and you rubbed your thumb in slow circles over the rough parts. 

“The last time you talked like this in a car, you almost died.”

Oh.

You glanced over at her but she was still fixed on the road. Her hand tightened in yours momentarily. 

“So maybe save it for when we’re not in a moving vehicle?”

Her lips twitched. 

“Maybe.”

“Okay then.”

The next ten minutes of the journey were in silence until you were out of yet another city and driving through the countryside. You were fighting more sleep, aware that you had a habit of resting while Miranda was always awake. It was only fair you keep her company; you knew she wouldn’t allow you to drive. 

“So… is there a plan?”

“There’s always several.”

“But what’s the current plan?”

“Keep going.”

“Great. Very informative. Keep going until we get where?”

Miranda hesitated. 

“I can get us out of the country.”

“Out of… to where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Miranda, I’m not following you; I’m running with you. Why can’t you tell me?”

“It’s better if you don’t know every step before we make it. Just in case. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” you frowned at her. I just want you to trust me, too.”

She didn’t have a response to that, and you sat back, feeling like you could absolutely be in a bit of a huff if it would make the slightest bit of difference. 

It wasn’t until you were pulling off onto a narrow country track that you woke up. You weren’t even really aware that you’d fallen asleep. Suddenly, you were just awake and looking at moonlit trees. You blinked and looked around, still half awake, and saw Miranda’s tired eyes fixed ahead. She glanced over. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry, I meant to stay awake.”

“You should sleep when you can.”

You readjusted, feeling stiff.

“Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“We’re almost there. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

You kept an eye out, trying to see where you were going, but the track was winding and outside of the main beams, the rest of it was all shadow. Two minutes later, Miranda turned sharply to the right, and you realised that there was an even smaller track, hidden by trees and bushes. Half a mile down this track, you spotted a building. 

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Another safe house?”

“Yes.”

“As nice as the other?”

Miranda snorted. 

“Life on the run not agreeing with you?”

“I was just asking.” You did huff this time, still cranky from irregular sleep and stiff from your impromptu nap. 

“You’ll get a proper mattress.”

“Bliss.”

“Maybe even a coffee machine.”

“Stop flirting with me.”

She gave a tired huff of amusement and then stopped the car right near the building. You peered up, trying to make it out in the moonlight. It looked like an old farmhouse.

“You have a thing for places in the middle of nowhere, don’t you?”

“There are benefits to them, and there are also benefits to being surrounded by people in busy cities. It just depends on what kind of anonymity you’re looking for.”

You climbed out of the car, groaning as your joints clicked. 

“God, I’m old.”

Another scoff from Miranda. 

You grabbed your bag and closed the door, following her to the building. She flipped open a box next to the door and jabbed in a code. A lock clicked. 

Miranda pushed open the old wooden door and stepped inside. Turning to her left, she opened an alarm panel as it started beeping. Punching in another code, you hovered in the doorway, peering in, trying to make out the layout. Miranda closed the panel and flicked on the light. 

White-washed walls and a wooden staircase came into view, with wooden floors and a corridor beside the stairs. To the right, there was an archway that seemed to lead into a living room. A brown leather sofa was the centrepiece. 

“Did you buy this place too?”

Miranda hung the keys on a hook and shrugged out of her coat, hanging it up, too. You took the hint, following suit. 

“It’s mine, yes.”

“Exactly how much money do people in your line of work get paid?”

“Enough.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Miranda paused, smiled and then took your hand. 

“Come with me.”

She took you on a tour. She didn’t point things out or give any details, but as she took you through a farmhouse kitchen with dining table, past a small downstairs toilet, into the cosy living room, which had an open fire in it, and then to the base of the stairs, you could see the same taste from the cabin in her minimal but comfortable decor. It felt familiar, and as you looked around, you felt more tension fading from the muscles around your shoulders and neck. 

The stairs creaked underfoot as you followed Miranda to the next floor. There were three doors from a corridor and you passed the bathroom first. You filed away the large shower for later, too tired to make the comment you wanted. Miranda bypassed the next door completely, leading you to the final one. 

“What’s in there?”

“Unless you want to get in a training session right now, that room can wait.”

“Uhh, yep. Fine, fine.”

The door opened, and you sighed in relief as Miranda flicked on the light. 

A large, comfortable-looking bed with pale green sheets and a single bedside table was the main element. You stepped inside, looked around, and then turned to grin at Miranda. 

“What?”

“You’re not taking the sofa.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Not unless you think we should sleep separately again.”

“No.” You grinned, clasping her hand and pulling her further into the room. Her teeth flashed in a smirk. You sat down on the bed, pulling her between your thighs. 

“I thought you were tired?”

“I am. And we are going to bed. But…” You slid your hands over her hips to the edge of her jumper. “I want to check your stitches first.”

She scowled and caught your hands. 

“They’re fine. It’s almost healed up; they’ll be out soon.”

“So you won’t mind if I check then.”

Begrudgingly, she released you and let you roll up her jumper. The angry redness still made you wince, but she was right. It was close to healed. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss above her wound and felt her stomach flex. Smiling, you rested your head on her. 

“I’ve never worried about anyone like I worry about you.” She was still and silent, and you looked up. Her brown eyes, wrong, stared down. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me again.”

“Then don’t fall off a snowmobile again.” She was teasing, but you still smoothed your thumbs over her hips and dropped another kiss on her stomach as an apology. “Come on, I know you want a shower.”

“Are you joining me in there as well?”

“If you promise not to be a tease.”

“I don’t know about that.” You winked as you stood up. “I think you like me being a tease.”

“Mmm.”

You had to admit, the shower did help. Scratching at your scalp as you rubbed shampoo into your hair felt amazing, and it helped that Miranda was distracted by how it lifted your chest. You smirked, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and pulling her back under the spray. Her hands slid over your hips, and your heart began to beat harder against your chest. Leaning in, you stole a kiss, eyes closed against the water. It didn’t escalate, but a few languid moments under the spray with her seemed to stretch into bliss. 

Still, as you ran a sponge over her shoulders, you noticed her eyes drooping. Finishing off, you pulled her gently from the shower, and she allowed you to dry her off with a towel. She did, however, insist on doing the same to you. 

Naked, you padded down the corridor to the bedroom. Her hand felt suddenly small in yours, and you pulled it to your lips. It didn’t escape you that the comfortable silence between you was soft and tired, and you longed for more of it. Blue eyes stared at you, the result of Miranda removing her contacts before joining you for a wash. You were glad. 

You’d missed them. 

You slipped into bed from either side, but Miranda had barely pulled the covers over you before you’d snuggled into her side. She huffed. 

“I put up with this when you’ve done it in your sleep, but not when you’re doing it on purpose.”

Her complaints sounded weak, and you ignored her, wrapping your arm around her waist. 

“Shhh, sleepy.”

“Darling-”

“Sleep,” you pouted, dropping a kiss to her chest. She grumbled but remained silent. “Miranda?”

“I thought we were sleeping?”

“I just wanted to say… about earlier? In the car?”

She stilled again, but then her hand slid over your arm, and you felt her bury her face in your hair. 

“Shh. Sleepy.”

You giggled, completely taken aback. 

“Did you just mock me? With an impression?”

“Maybe.”

A little kiss to your head. 

“You’re going soft on me.”

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Closing your eyes, you snuggled further into her and sighed. Then her voice, half asleep and buried in your hair, murmured:

“You’re frustrating.” 

You smiled. 

“So I’ve been told.”

Chapter Text

You woke up slowly, nose buried in Miranda’s hair, and sighed, snuggling closer. Eyes closed, you nuzzled against her, feeling the softness of her neck against the fine hairs of your cheek. You shifted your hand, sliding it over the quilt and underneath, tucking it under her tank top. She let out a deep sigh, as though she’d been holding her breath. 

“Some mornings,” she muttered, half awake, the breath from her lips tickling your forehead. “I think you want to crawl inside my skin just to get close enough.”

You let out a little huff of laughter and lifted your head so that your nose rubbed the column of her neck. 

“That’s the most grossly romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Miranda stiffened, but almost as soon as she had before you even had time to start apologising and explaining that you were joking, she relaxed. 

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.” You chuckled. “Making you all mushy inside.”

Miranda breathed in and then out slowly. She shifted and started to pull away. You groaned and looked up. Miranda’s face was cautious and closed off and you frowned. 

“We should get up.”

“Miranda-”

“I should get into the training room.”

You tightened your grip around her waist. 

“Don’t.” She looked back at you, frowning. “Don’t go. Whatever just happened, if it was because I said I was making you soft or romantic, I’m sorry, I just-”

“Stop.” Miranda took a breath and let it out in a huff. “Do you always have to do that? I mean, really?”

“Do what?”

“Rush to apologise like I’ll explode at you for saying I’m anything other than a cold, hard bitch.”

You blinked. 

“I… I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, it’s a pattern.”

“Maybe it’s a pattern because you always shut off when I say that stuff.”

Her jaw tightened and then released. 

“Alright. Perhaps that’s true.”

“But I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I like you how you are, I just… I don’t know why you’re so opposed to the idea of being soft. It’s just me. It’s not like your enemies are listening, waiting until you’re all mushy.”

“Firstly,” she scoffed, sitting up, leaving you awkwardly at her hip, which forced you to sit up too. “My enemies waiting until I’m vulnerable is a very real possibility. And secondly, did it ever occur to you that I’m the way I am for a reason? That maybe this is just who I am and that you expecting me to melt into someone new is wildly unrealistic?”

“Miranda…” You hesitated. Her head was turned away but she wasn’t storming off. Wasn’t running. You took a breath and shifted, straddling her. She glanced up at you and then away again, until you stroked her ruffled bed hair out of her face, cupped her cheek, and brought her back to you. “Has it ever occurred to you that I poke and prod at your soft side because I need reassurance sometimes? Do you know how difficult it is to realise that you’re… to admit to yourself that you’re falling for someone, let alone admit it to her when she’s always keeping you at arm's length?”

Miranda’s head snapped up and she was staring at you again. Your heart thudded loudly against your chest, expecting her to push you off her and leave. Instead, she murmured your name under her breath and although you hated how it sounded like a gentle warning, you loved the way it sounded. 
“It’s practically Stockholm syndrome at this point,” she murmured, putting her head down. Her hair brushed against your chest before the top of her head rested against it. “You’re just stuck with me.”

“No.” You replied firmly, lifting her head so that she had to look at you. “Miranda, you do not get to try and twist this into something sick. You don’t get to do that to run away. I like you, I’ve liked you for a long time, even when you drive me absolutely mad. You’re infuriating and frustrating and a pain in the ass, but you’re funny and sweet when you let your guard down, and you secretly love when I’m a koala which is adorable, and I like you. I really, really do.”

Miranda stared up at you, her face warring between mask and confusion. You held eye contact, refusing to allow her to deny the truth in your face. She sighed. 

“I’ll be the death of you.”

“Then I’ll die happily.”

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

“We all die in the end,” you shrugged, smiling. She rolled her eyes. 

“I’d rather not hasten the timeline.”

“Is that your only argument? That I might die because I like you?” Miranda opened her mouth to respond and you put a finger over her lips. “Ah. Don’t you dare just make up some random shit.”

You were flat on your back the next minute, with Miranda pressing you into the mattress. 

“Are you determined to have this conversation now? You can’t allow us a day of rest and recuperation before you start probing for something more?” Miranda’s lips curled into a smirk. “I thought you wanted me to look after myself?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, cursing your traitorous lips for smiling back at her. 

“You realise I told you I like you right?”

“I had no injury to my ears during our last confrontation so there should be no change in my ability to intake information, darling.”

“So?”

“So what?” She huffed. 

“Is it ok? That I… like you?”
Her eyes flickered and she closed them for a moment with a sigh. When she opened them again, she met your gaze steadily. 

“I have no control over what you feel.” You opened your mouth to respond but she silenced you. “But, you impatient minx, I don’t… I can’t find it in me to dislike the idea.”

“That’ll do.” You chuckled, leaning up to peck her on the lips. “For now.”

Rolling her eyes again, she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours slowly, letting her touch linger until you’d melted a little into the mattress. As your lips separated she rolled carefully back onto her side of the bed, her hand over her injury with a flicker of discomfort. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She let her head fall to the side and smiled at you. “It’s fine, just grouchy. I’ve been still for far too long.”

“You’re never still,” you murmured, rolling to press a kiss to her shoulder. You let your fingers trace over the seam of her tank top. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

She snorted. 

“But you’ve met many contract killers to compare me with.”

You nudged her, narrowing your eyes. 

“I’ve met the people hired to look after important people. They’re the same as you, never still, always aware. But you’re different. For you it’s like it’s just another task, as though you never needed to be trained to it. I know that’s ridiculous.”

“It is.” She caught your hand where it was tracing around her neckline and held it in hers. “I trained for a long time. It wasn’t easy. It continues to not be easy.”

“You’re not still training.”

“The day I stop training and learning and changing is the day I die, darling.” Miranda dropped a kiss to your hand and then shifted, carefully manoeuvring her legs to climb out of bed, leaving you pouting. “Don’t look at me that way. You have to train too.”

“What happened to having one day to rest?”

“This is rest,” she smirked. “Rest doesn’t mean lying around doing nothing all day. There has to be some movement, or I’ll just get stiffer.”

“I can think of some movement that doesn’t require leaving this bed.”

Miranda chuckled. 

“Just last night you were determined to wait until I’m fully healed.”

“I re-evaluated.”

“No.” Miranda raised an eyebrow and then tugged off her tank top. “You just want to cuddle more.”

You sat up, eyeing her body as she stripped. You were naked and frowned when you realised that she had been too, at least when you went to bed. Distracted from the thought by Miranda’s body, you shifted to the end of the bed. 

“I’m really re-evaluating now.” She snorted and tugged open the chest of drawers, pulling out some clothes. “Wait.”

You climbed out of bed, padding across the short distance. She eyed you in the mirror on top of the dresser but didn’t turn to face you, even when you slid your hands over her hips and leaned your chin on her shoulder. Staring at her in the mirror, you pressed a kiss to her neck. You felt her breath hitch, just a little. 

Your hands slid from her hips, one to press against the slight swell of her stomach, the other to take the clothes from her and drop them on top of the dresser. You took her hand and laced your fingers, holding it at her chest. Wrapped around her, you kissed her behind her ear, nuzzling into her hair. 

“I’ve missed being able to do this.”

“You’ve never done this.” Her voice was a little hoarse and she cleared it. “Your head still damaged?”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you nipped at her ear. 

“I meant…” You pressed another kiss, this time to her neck, with much more intent than before. “Being able to just touch you easily. Knowing who you are, knowing… how I feel. Naked, not running for our lives.”

“We’re still on the run,” Miranda replied, her blue eyes meeting yours steadily. 

“Yes. But we’re not running.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Miranda’s voice was soft. “You can never get too comfortable.”

“Because they could find us at any moment?”

“Because I don’t want to be responsible for any more of your sadness.” Her breath hitched as if she’d not meant to say it out loud. You sucked in a breath and stared at her, holding her blue eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re… All soft and…” Miranda began to shift and you leaned into her, breaking eye contact and pressing a kiss into her hair. 

“I love-”

“Don’t.” 

You pulled your face from her hair and looked back at her.

“If I don’t say it, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.”

She unwrapped herself from your arms and turned. 

“We need to eat and train.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You stepped close and pressed a kiss to her cheek, your bare thighs brushing, feeling the curve of her breast against you. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“You’re still trying to seduce me back to bed.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Get dressed,” she scoffed fondly, pushing you gently away. 

***

Miranda being injured and in the process of recovery did not stop her from kicking your ass. It did give you an advantage, but the third time that you almost had her and then failed to completely subdue her, she pushed you off and glared. 

“What? I thought I was getting better.”

“You are. But you lack the killer instinct.”

“I don’t want to kill you though.”

“And will you want to kill anyone?”

“I mean, not if I can help it but-”

“They’ll kill you without a second thought if they are asked to. You can’t hesitate. You have to take advantage of their weaknesses.” She grabbed your hand and pressed it to her injury. “You should be hitting me here, pressing your thumb in, anything to get me to my weakest stage.”

“I’m not going to do that.” You looked at her, horrified. “You’re recovering.”

“I’m also attacking you and beating you. Injured. You should be able to get the upper hand.”

“I’m not like you.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“I don’t want to be like you!” You snapped, ripping your hand away from her injury. “We have you for that. I don’t want to stop being me.”

“Then you’re as good as dead.”

You watched as she turned her back and walked away and felt anger rise in you. Reaching out you grabbed her arm. She twisted and had you pushed against the wall, face first, within a split second. 

“Fuck! Miranda-”

“This isn’t a game. I’m trying to stop you from getting killed. If a little tough love is what it takes then-”

“Get off me,”

“Remove me yourself.”

You struggled and she just pressed harder. 

“Miranda-”

“How would you free yourself? If I wanted to kill you, if you were being held by someone that wanted to do you harm-”

You shoved your elbow into her chest and she let out a cough of breath, loosening her breath and backing away enough for you to be able to turn. 

“I swear to god, if you being an asshole just damaged your stitches, I’m going to put you on bed rest for a week with no sex. Not even a kiss.”

Miranda huffed, rolling her eyes even as she rubbed at her rib. 

“Oh no, how will I cope with no sex.”

“The bed rest will be what kills you.”

“You really think that you could get me to stay in bed?”

Ignoring her, you continued. 

“And what the hell was that? I don’t need tough love, Miranda. I’m learning because our lives are in danger and I don’t want to be a burden; you don’t have to go full Marine on me.”

“The Marines would do worse than that.”

“I don’t care.” You scowled again. “I don’t care what they’d do, I care that you just did that to me. That’s not okay.”

With that, you left the room, slammed the door behind you and marched downstairs. In the kitchen, you rummaged through the freezer, found a bag of peas stuffed in the back, and pulled it out. Wrapping it in a towel, you had it ready as Miranda appeared. 

“What are you-”

“Here. For the inevitable bruise.” You thrust it at her and waited until she took it from you before grabbing a glass to get some water. 

“You’re angry with me,” she said slowly, the frozen peas still hovering in her hand. 

“Yes.”

“But you got me ice.”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re worried I’m hurt.”

“Congrats, you’re three for three.”

Miranda frowned as you took a gulp of water. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why would I get you ice when I’m mad at you?” You stared at her and she stared back. “Because I care about you, Miranda. We’ve been over this.”

“Don’t-” She snapped and then caught her tongue. Taking a breath she put the peas down. “I’m not being deliberately difficult, darling. I’m not exactly familiar with the two concepts existing at the same time. So you’ll forgive me if it takes me a moment to understand what’s going on in your mind.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek and nodded. 

“Okay, fair point.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for pushing you too far.”

“For what it’s worth? Miranda,” you sighed. If you sincerely apologize to me, then it’s worth everything.”

You put down your glass and stepped forward, picking up the frozen peas. 

“I am sorry,” Miranda murmured as you tugged up her tank top, putting the frozen towel against the spot you’d hit. She hissed but didn’t move away. “I just… I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt.”

She stroked your hair when you moved closer. 

“I feel the same way about you.”

You rested your forehead against hers. 

“You’ve changed me.” Miranda sighed. “More than I ever wanted or expected to change this late in life. And that’s dangerous and a little… nerve-wracking, when you’re in my job. I’m supposed to be sure, all the time. Calculated risk, got the job done, no emotions. You’ve changed everything and I am still playing catch up.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, loud enough that you were sure she could hear it. 

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever admitted about how all of this is making you feel.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed and she smiled, pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“Tell me one more thing. Before you go back to being all tough. Anything.”

She was silent for so long that you thought she might not give you it. That she’d pull away and be back to her usual self. 

“This morning when you said I was grossly romantic, and I said I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Mmm?” You pulled back to look at her, and she immediately turned her head away. 

“You assumed that I meant I wasn’t trying to be romantic.” She shrugged and then stepped back, taking your hand from the peas and replacing it with her own. “But I meant I wasn’t trying to be gross.”

You blinked.

“You were trying to be romantic?”

She shrugged again and unwrapped the peas, opening the freezer and putting them away. 

“I’m going to finish my training. You should shower. Get breakfast.”

“Miranda?” She paused and looked at you. You stepped closer and leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

When you pulled back, her cheeks were tinged with a little pink, but she raised an eyebrow, shrugged for a third time, and then headed back upstairs, leaving you with a fluttering in your chest that made you grin from ear to ear. 

Chapter Text

“Not bad.” Miranda stared up at you from the mat where you had her pinned, hands wrapped around her wrists. “But I could easily throw you off.”

“Fortunately, I don’t think you want to,” you replied, flashing her a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes. 

“An enemy would. Someone trying to kill you would only have to throw you off your game for a second before-”

You shut her up with a kiss, one that started as firm and demanding but soon melted into something fuelled in the pit of your stomach. You loosened your grip on her wrists and slid your hands up, slipping your fingers between hers. Underneath you she groaned and you released her lips with a tearing sound. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

She wrenched her hand from yours, reached up and gripped your hair at the back before tugging you back down to her lips. It was your turn to groan as her tongue sought entrance and you granted it to her immediately. She toyed with your senses, tugging your hair, her tongue dancing with yours and all you could smell was her and fresh sweat… 

Her other hand, free as soon as you’d submitted to her tongue, started tugging at your tank top. You broke from the kiss to help, pulling it over your head quickly, followed by the sports bra, before her teeth were on your nipple. She tugged and then her tongue rolled over it, soothing the rawness. Each tug, each swirl, sent sparks through your body and you felt warm slickness pooling between your thighs, causing you to clench instinctually. 

“You’re topping from the bottom,” you chuckled against her hair, kissing her scalp. She huffed and released your nipple, looking up at you. 

“Do you want to be fucked or not, darling?”

“Yes. Always.” You pulled at her top, wanting skin-to-skin contact, and her legs wrapped around you, flipping you so that you landed on your back. “Fuck!”

“You’re a menace.” She grabbed a resistance band and wrapped it around your wrists, the thick band rubbing against your skin. She wrapped it under and then pulled it tight, dragging your hands above your head to attach it to the hooks on the wall. 

“Hey!” You struggled. “That’s not what these are for.”

“No?” She smirked. “Pull against them; you’ll feel resistance. That’s exactly what they’re for.”

“Uhm-” Her teeth latched onto your nipple again and you whimpered. “Miranda…”

“You’re going to be a good girl. You’ll take everything I throw at you if you want to come.”

Another whimper escaped you and you struggled again. You could probably slip your hands free of the bands, but their pressure made for an extra level of friction that aroused you, so you didn’t. Instead, you watched as she inched down your body and started tugging at the waistband of your leggings. She brought them down to your thighs mid-way and then stopped. You shifted, your legs pressed together by your own leggings.

“Miranda-”

“Do you want me to tie your ankles together too?” She sat back on your legs and surveyed you. “Yes, I think having you completely at my mercy is just how I want you.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, precisely.” She slid from your legs and undid your shoes, using the laces to tie your shoes together tightly. You tried to move and felt desperate, like a fish out of water. She just chuckled. “Perfect.”

“You’re far too creative, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Be glad I haven’t gagged you too.” She returned to straddling you, raking her nails over your stomach. You couldn’t move much at all with her weight pinning you. The world around her blurred. “It’s only because I like hearing you moan my name.”

“Miranda…” You groaned and she smirked harder. 

“What, darling?”

“I need you. Inside me. Please.”

“Oh I think you can beg harder than that.”

“Please.. Please… oh god, please…”

“Darling…”

“Please…”

“Wake up!”

You gasped, sweating, as your eyes flung open and you found Miranda pinning you in place, staring down at you in concern. 

“What…?”

“Fucking hell, what the fuck were you dreaming about?” Miranda frowned down at you, pressing her hand to your forehead. “You woke me up.”

“I…”

“Are you alright?”

You sucked in a breath, and then another, then nodded your head. 

“Sorry, I was… I’m okay.”

She studied you for a moment in the faint grey light of dawn and then let out a breath before rolling off you and back onto her side of the bed. 

“Scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” You pressed your thighs together and found them slick. Your heart was still beating out of your chest. You looked to your right and saw Miranda staring up at the ceiling, unsettled. She glanced over. 

“What was it? Were you being tortured?”

“What?” You frowned. “No.”

“Then what? Chased? You kept saying please over and over again.”

“Yes well…” You cleared your throat. “You were making me beg.”

Miranda blinked. Then stared in disbelief. Then rolled her eyes and smirked. 

“You were dreaming about me fucking you.”

“I mean, we were about to get to that.” You rolled onto your side and propped up your head on your palm, elbow between yours and Miranda’s pillows. “But it was definitely the way all training sessions should end.”

Miranda licked her lips and shifted closer, rolling towards you. You grinned up at her as she pushed you onto your back once more, with a shove to your shoulder. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Biting your lip, you smirked. 

“Well, it started with me pinning you to the mat.”

“And you didn’t realise it was a dream?” Miranda scoffed and you poked her. 

“Hey, I’m not responsible for what happens in my dreams.”

“Not sure that’d hold up in court darling.” 

“Do you want to hear the rest of my dream or not?”

Miranda’s fingers traced up your thigh, and you instinctively parted your legs for her, your breath catching in your throat. She let the tips of her fingers skate over your vulva, barely there touches that make you shiver as you felt her find your wetness. Her eyes stared down at you hungrily. 

“Tell me.”

“Miranda, your stitches-”

“Are fine.” She leaned down and nipped at your jaw. “Go on.”

“I… I kissed you to stop you from explaining how someone could still kill me if they wanted to, and then we started… well you wanted my top off and my bra, and then you were biting and licking at my nipple.”

“Like this?”

Miranda lowered her head and, ever so slowly, circled your nipple with her tongue. You closed your eyes, sucking in a breath as your head rolled back. Teeth grazed the sensitive bud as it hardened and you let out a whimper as she latched on and tugged. 

“Fuck, yes.”

“And what else?”

“God… you kept going and you restrained my wrists above my head with a resistance band.” Miranda looked up, an eyebrow arched. You flushed. “I didn’t say it was realistic.”

“No, do continue with your gym fuck fantasy. I’m intrigued.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“You also pulled down my leggings to my thighs so they were pinned together and tied my shoe laces together so I couldn’t separate my legs. Then you straddled me and started to tease me and make me beg before you’d fuck me.”

“Oh, now you’ve rushed through it, darling.” Miranda scolded, rubbing lightly over your slit and making you mewl. Her teeth tugged at your nipple again and then she moved to the other, circling it with her tongue. “How did it feel to be completely at my mercy?”

“It felt…” You squeaked as she caught the skin under your nipple in her teeth and sucked until a bruise former. “Oh fuck, it felt good.”

“You like being restrained?” Miranda shifted to straddle your hips and slid her hands up your arms, wrapping them slowly around your wrists and pinning them above your head. “You want me to tie you up and fuck you at my leisure?”

“I… Yes?” You groaned, hips bucking as her hips rolled against you. You could feel her slickness against your skin. “God you’re so wet.”

“I can smell how wet you are for me,” she purred. “Have I told you how much that turns me on?”

“No?” You whined. “I like that.”

“You do hmm?” Miranda’s teeth nipped at your ear as she leaned down to husk into it. “What else do you like?”

“When… when you… when your fingers are inside me. When your tongue rolls over me in just the right… oh god.” She sucked on your pulse point, no doubt bringing it to a bruising point, and you bucked into her. “Fuck!”

“More, darling. What else?”

“I like when… when you fuck me in public.” She shifted, moving both of your wrists together and pinning them with one hand. Her other palmed roughly at your breast. “ When you make me come and someone could hear or see. I like it when you tease me, I like-”

Her nails raked down your stomach, and you hissed, arching again.

“Do you want me to fuck you right now?”

“Yes, god yes.”

“But what about my injury? I thought you were so insistent that I-”

“Miranda!”

“Mmm?” Her tongue pressed against where she’d bitten you, finding it tender with a little sting. 

“Please. Please fuck me.” Her fingers had slid inside you and you arched as she curled them against your gspot. “Yes, like that.”

She slid in and out of you languidly, lazily, curling her fingers, making you squirm and writhe. It was cruel, urging you towards an orgasm without giving you what you needed to push you over the edge. Her breath was hot and heavy against your ear and the sound turned you on so much. You started to rock your hips into each thrust, trying to make them harder, but she began to do it softer. 

“Oh god, please, Miranda…”

“Have you missed this?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes!”

Her teeth tugged at your ear again and then she groaned breathily.

“Fuck, I’ve missed being inside you.”

Miranda’s words almost made you black out, the wave of pleasure that crashed through you as they ghosted over the shell of your ear made you arch into her and as you did, her thumb brushed over your clit. You gasped, pressing your legs together and trapping her hand as your first orgasm rolled through you. 

“Miranda… fucking Christ!”

“That’s my girl,” she purred, stroking out your waves as you collapsed, limbless. After a moment, she slid her fingers out of your cunt and spread your slickness over your nipples, humming under her breath. You tried to catch your breath, watching her, and then whimpered as she lowered her head and licked and sucked your stickiness right off the rosy buds. 

“Fuck.”

“Again? You’ve not even caught your breath…” She teased, but rolled carefully onto her back, glancing down at her side. Satisfied, she stretched like a cat who’d gotten the cream. “Come here.”

You rolled, leaning in for a kiss, but she caught your chin between her thumb and forefinger, raising an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“I meant, sit on my face, darling. Or do you need a break?”

Mouth dry, you clambered up on shaking thighs and hovered over her, hands on the headboard. Looking down, her blue eyes staring up at you, your heart thumped against your chest, spreading warmth all over you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She cocked an eyebrow, rolled her eyes, and wrapped her arms around your waist, tugging you down onto her mouth. Her tongue lapped at you and your hips jerked, still sensitive. She settled into a rhythm, her nails digging into your hips and you rocked, your thighs burning with the effort. You’d forgotten, or perhaps it just always felt like the first time, how good she was at this. Sounds became choked in your throat as you forgot to breathe, and the sloppy sounds of her eating you out filled the room, along with the smell of sex. 

“Oh god, yes, right there…” Her palm slapped your ass, and she grabbed it as you began riding her tongue hard. “Fuck, yes… fuck… Miranda…”

She reached up with the other hand and dragged one of yours to your clit, and you began to rub furiously until you pitched forward, catching yourself with your other hand before you hit the wall, and screamed. You shuddered there for a moment, lost in the uncontrollable orgasm-fuelled bliss that had taken over every muscle, before your body slumped and you rolled off her face, backwards, onto the bed. Your head level with her calves, you stared upwards, breathing heavily, until she sat up, wiping her mouth, and you tilted your head at her. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite that heavenly, darling.”

“No? I’d say that was pretty much heaven.”

“And hell, all wrapped up in a pretty fucking cunt.” Miranda ran her hand through her hair. “So, now that we’re done with you trying to protect my stitches instead of get off, I’m assuming I can do that again?”

“Now?” Your eyes bugged. 

“Perhaps.” She winked. “Although I was thinking I’d let you breathe first.”

“I was thinking more that it’s my turn.”

“Is it?” Miranda cocked her head. “You seem to think this turn-taking is a necessity.”

“It’s not,” you smirked, tracing your fingers over her lightly freckled calf. “But I would love to. You’re not the only one who has missed being inside the other.”

“Mmm.” She settled back on her elbows, and you let your eyes trail over her breasts, her stomach, until you reached the little patch of neat curls. “See something you like, darling?”

“Very much.” You sat up and crawled forward, leaning over her and kissing her. “I want to make you come in my mouth, Miranda. Will you let me?”

“Well,” she husked against your lips. “I suppose when you ask nicely like that, how am I to refuse?”

Grinning, you kissed her again and moved down, pressing kisses to her sternum, her breasts, her ribs, the soft swell of her stomach, over the stitches, her hip… there you hovered, and then your teeth grazed it until you glanced up and saw her watching you intently. You could smell her arousal from there and leaned down, keeping eye contact, and sucked at her hip bone through your teeth until it bruised, watching the way her head rolled back and her chest arched. Heat rolled from her, and you released her, lapping at the mark soothingly before slipping between her legs. She smelled divine, and you gave her an experimental lick. The tang made your mouth water, and you pressed closer, lapping at her as her fingers found solace in your hair. She tugged as you licked her clit, and you sucked at it, which brought an audible gasp from her. 

God, that sound. You loved that sound. 

Her thighs tightened around your head as you slid two fingers inside her and kept lapping at her clit. You felt her body moving and wrapped your free arm over her hips to keep her as still as possible, still mindful of her injury. She groaned your name, and you felt your core melt. 

Fuck. 

Spurred on by the sounds falling from her, such a rare occurrence, you sucked and lapped at her clit, curling your fingers inside her like she had earlier inside you. Her juices coated your lips and your chin, and you savoured the taste like a woman starved. 

“Fuck!” She hissed as you added another finger. 

“Miranda,” you moaned into her. “I’m yours. Come for me.”

With one last suck on her clit, her hips snapped upward, and she let out a strangled cry. Her fingers pulled painfully on your hair, and she covered your fingers. You pulled them out and lapped at the source, rubbing her clit with her juices on your fingers until she’d stopped riding the waves. Then, still covered in her, you crawled up and kissed her hard. 

“You taste fucking delicious,” you moaned as your lips tore softly apart, and then she dove back in again, her tongue tasting herself on yours. She rolled you, both on your sides, and her thigh pushed between yours. You rocked together, feeling her sliding against your thigh, feeling her muscled one as friction against your clit, her mouth on yours. She was everywhere, all at once, and your mind swirled. 

Miranda. Only Miranda…

With a gasp, you finally dragged air into your lungs as she released you and stared into your eyes, breathing heavily. You reached up, pushing hair out of her face, and cupped her jaw. 

“I love-”  You saw the wariness come back into her eyes in a flash and choked on the words she’d rejected once. “When you let me eat you out.”

She relaxed and rocked purposefully into you again. 

“You’re not bad at it.”

“Not bad?!” You gasped, mock offended. “What do you mean not bad?”

“Alright, fine. You’re decent.”

“Decent?!”

She smirked. 

“And so easy to tease.”

“I’m still delirious from my orgasms, and she judges me for the one she got in return.”

“Aren’t I cruel?” Her lips curled. “Imagine what I’d do to you if we weren’t on the run.”

“Oh, I am.” You smirked back. “I imagine I’d have been fucked in every possible public place by now since you seem to enjoy that.”

“I’m not the only one,” she purred. “And there’s more I’d have done to you than that.”

“Like what?”

“That,” she stole a kiss, “is for me to know and you to find out...maybe.”

“No fair,” you pouted. 

“I’ll bite that lip for you if you leave it there.”

“Is that supposed to stop me?”

She leaned in, caught your bottom lip between her teeth, tugged it, and kissed you again. 

“I will have to punish you properly one day for this attitude.”

“Oh, heaven forbid!” You chuckled and reached between you, rolling one of her nipples under your thumb. “How about we try that later? Only now, I’d really like to make you come again.”

“Is this how you intend to spend the day?”

You hummed cheekily and kissed her. 

“I can’t think of anything better to do, can you?”

“Eating, showering, training-”

“You’d better not be about to say you’d prefer those things to spend a day in bed fucking, because I swear-”

“Shut.” She leaned in and kissed you hard. “Your.” Another kiss. “Mouth.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a smirk, she rolled you onto your back. 

“Say my name.”

“Miranda.”

“Like you do when I’m inside you.”

You looked up at her and felt that warmth blooming in your chest again. Reaching up, you cupped her face. 

“Miranda…”

She kissed you, lips soft, leaving you breathless. 

“Again.”

“Miranda…”

“Again.”

She began to kiss down your body, and you lazily stroked her hair, rolling your body into her touch. 

“Miranda…”

She positioned herself between your legs and smirked up at you.

“Again.”

Wetting your lips, your eyelids heavy, your breath short, you tilted your chin up and moaned into the beams of sunlight that had now broken into the room around the blinds, displaying your shadows on the wall. 

“Miranda…”

Chapter Text

“Shit, really?” You groaned, bent over double as Miranda paused, hands on hips, smirking. 

“You can take it,” she purred. “Can’t you?”

“Fuck you,” you gasped. 

Miranda chuckled, and shifted again, fast. You gasped as you went flying, back hitting the floor. 

“Dead,” she purred. 

“I wasn’t ready!”

“And no one sent to kill you will just sit around and let you be ready before they come for you.”

“But maybe my trainer could?” You gave her a pleading smile. She rolled her eyes and stood, offering her hand to pull you up. You took it, grimacing as you felt the spot that would likely bruise on your ass. “I suck at this.”

“You’re fighting me,” she shrugged, hand still around yours, tugging you close. You bit your lip. “I’m not expecting you to get the drop on me, darling.”

“Then what’s the point of all of this?”

She scoffed and released your hand, stepping back. 

“The point is that you’re training with the hopes that you’ll survive long enough to run, or haven’t I made that clear?”

“I know, I know, but…” You trailed off, seeing the irritation tightening her jaw. “I want to be able to help you. You know this.”

“You’re no help to me if you get hurt or killed.”

You took a step closer to her. That was pretty much her admitting, again, that she would find it… difficult, if you were hurt. 

“You can just say you care about me, you know?” You smiled gently. “I wouldn’t run screaming from that.”

She huffed and raised her arms to her sparring position. 

“Again.”

“Miranda-”

“Again.”

Sighing, you dropped into the pose she’d taught you and started shifting on your feet, looking for a way under her defences. Aiming for her stomach, for the injury, you jabbed and she parried. You followed it with an uppercut, and she caught your arm and twisted it. 

“Fuck!” You cried out as it ended up behind your back, and you stamped on her foot like she’d taught you and then tried to elbow her in the face. She jumped back, releasing you. Her eyes flashed and she grinned, showing teeth. You shook out your arm and moved forward, jabbing again. She blocked each one, but you managed to drive her back a step before she ducked a blow and swiped your feet out from under you. 

You hit the mat like a ton of bricks, groaning. Miranda pinned you down. 

“Dead.”

“Not necessarily.” You bucked your hips up into her and shifted the arms she was pinning, bringing her balance down. She smirked as you tried to roll her, the move what she’d done to you before, in the last safe house. She rolled with you, and ended up on top again, having used your momentum. Then she pinned your arms between your sides and her knees, and put a hand at your throat. 

“Dead again.” Her fingers tapped against your neck and you became very aware of your breathing. You looked up at her, watching the way she smirked down at you. “But such a good attempt. And such a pretty victim.”

You rolled your eyes, although your breath caught. 

“Shut up.” Her hand tightened a little and her eyes flashed, amused. 

“What was that?”

“Miranda…” You gasped, swallowing against her palm. She loosened her grip, stroking her thumb over your windpipe for a moment before sitting back on your stomach and withdrawing her hand completely. “I swear you’ll kill me one day.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged and then stood up. “We should go again.”

***
When you’d showered, you padded down the stairs in joggers and a t-shirt to find Miranda and food… not necessarily in that order. Peeking your head into the kitchen, you found it empty. Heading for the fridge you opened it, then groaned. Of course. Neither of you had been shopping yet.

You checked the freezer and found more there and in the cupboards. Putting some frozen bread in the toaster and then slipping out of the kitchen and across the corridor to the living room, you found Miranda on the sofa by the fire. It was crackling and you shuffled closer for the warmth. 

“Hey.”

Miranda looked up from her phone briefly. 

“Hi.”

She returned to the screen and you frowned. 

“I’m making toast if you want any?”

“No, I ate.” You hovered and she looked up at you, sighing. “Sorry. Thank you.”

“It’s okay it’s just… you try and stay off that as much as possible. What’re you up to?”

“Getting some information on the men who tried to kill us.”

“Oh?” You perched on the arm of the sofa, trying to peer at her phone. “What have you found out?”

She pressed the screen to her chest and arched an eyebrow at you. 

“If I find something you need to know, I’ll tell you.” 

“Miranda,” you huffed, exasperated. “I can help, you know?”

“And your experience in tracking killers across the dark web is…?” She tilted her head. “Eat your food. Then we’ll talk.”

“Fine.” You stood up, rolling your eyes, and headed back for the kitchen. The toast popped out just as you reached it and you distracted yourself by spreading honey on it and taking a bite. Then you wandered back into the living room and sat by the fire, opposite Miranda. 

You ate, taking the time to look around at the living room properly for the first time. It was pretty in a white-washed cottage kind of way. Bare beams, the log fire… how rich was Miranda if these were her safehouses? 

You eyed her. 

“You know, I’ve seen business men with less houses than you.”

“I’m sure,” she pursed her lips, not looking up from her phone. 

“I know it’s part of the job and all but… why this one? Why the other?”

“Isolation,” she shrugged. “Open rooms so you can see people coming, direct access to the stairs, several exit strategies, underground rooms for weapons storage and in case of explosions…” 

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hand. “I get it. They’re tactical. But did you decorate them?”

She finally looked up from her phone with an arched brow. 

“Did I… decorate them?”

“Yes. I mean, they all kind of… feel like you. But in different ways.”

Her eyebrows lifted higher. 

“How so?”

“Well… I don’t know. It’s just a vibe I get. They both had log fires, comfortable seating, bookshelves-”

“Common items for buildings like these.”

“Yes, maybe, but they feel… homey.”

Miranda’s eyes turned flinty. Defensive. 

“Homey,” she parroted flatly. 

“They feel like maybe you wanted to be comfortable. Like if you had to disappear you wanted to rest.”

“That would be a sensible way to spend time. Especially if someone is trying to kill you.”

“But… do people often try to kill you?”

“Hazard of the job.”

“But like this? Like… teams of people.”

Miranda huffed and put down her phone. 

“Once or twice. Not when I’m not aware of what I’ve done to inspire their hunt. I suppose it could be a direct hit from my employers, thinking I’ve gone soft because of…” She gestured at you, casually. “I’m inclined to believe that I’d have had a call from a colleague or two if that were the case.”

“So, what’s the working theory then? If not that.” You shifted, putting your plate down, half the toast unfinished. “If not me?”

She tilted her head to the side and sucked on the inside of her mouth for a second before responding. 

“Sometimes when you’ve done a job, the client would rather send their people to kill you than think the money buys your silence. Another agency could see me as a threat, see my employers as a threat, and be trying to take me down because of that. Other times, your own agency will take you out because they don’t feel you’re capable of the job anymore. That you got too emotional, or… attached.” 

You swallowed. 

“So I really could be the reason that they’re… that you…”

“No need for emotions, darling,” she shushed you. “It’s all part of the life.”

“I hate that,” you whispered. “I hate that at any time someone might want to take you awa- take you out. Kill you.”

Miranda shrugged, although her eyes were sharp. 

“It’s a sign I’m good at my job. And if it’s a sign I’m getting bad at it, then they have every right to try and remove me from play. I would do the same to them if needed.”

Your lips parted in surprise. 

“You can’t be serious?”

She stared you down for a moment before her lips twitched. 

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”

You felt the urge to throw a cushion at her. 

“Miranda-”

Her phone buzzed and she immediately went back to staring at the device, tapping on the screen every so often. You huffed and picked up your toast again, trying to chew it normally instead of with the frustration you felt. 

By the time you’d finished your toast she was off her phone again and instead was staring into the fire, apparently in deep thought. 

“Do you… want to play a game or something?” You asked, and she shot you a look. “Oh, come on. I’m trying to distract you from the doom and gloom.”

“The doom and gloom is our lives being at stake,” she snapped and then took a steadying breath. “I’m trying to do everything I can to protect you.”

“I know.” You murmured and then shifted on the seat, throwing your legs over the arm so your feet were toasting near the fire. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“What are you going to do if you can’t aggravate me?” She said after a moment. 

“Lie here and take a nap. Snore loudly to help you focus.” You closed your eyes, a smile on your lips. 
There was no response for a moment and you cracked an eye to look at her. She was staring at you, but obviously not focused. You lifted your head a little and she blinked. 

“Right. Helpful.” Miranda scoffed and looked down at her phone again. You arched an eyebrow. 

“Are you okay? You were… staring.”

“I was not staring. I was thinking.”

“About…?”

Miranda shifted and you could have sworn her cheeks went a little flushed, but it could’ve been the fire. 

“About who could be trying to kill us, obviously.”

“Mhmm.” You didn’t believe a word of it but you lowered yourself back down and closed your eyes again. “Of course you were.”

You waited a few moments and then cracked an eye again. She was looking directly at you.

“You are definitely staring.”

Miranda threw her phone down next to her and shifted, putting her arms on her thighs and leaning forward. 

“Fine, I’m staring.”

“Why are you staring?” You turned your head fully to look at her, opening both eyes. She twisted her hands together, jaw tense, and then sighed. 

“Because… you look… nice, today.”

You blinked. Of all the things you’d expected to come out of her mouth, that had been the last. Hell, it hadn’t even been on the list. 

“Uhm…”

“That’s…” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, then sucked in a long breath through her nose. “That’s not to say you don’t look nice most of the time. Just… particularly today.”

You stared. She shifted, flushed and uncomfortable. 

“I… what?”

She huffed and sat back, crossing one leg over the other and grabbing her phone to look at it. 

“Never mind.”

“No,” you sat up. “I just… I’m a little surprised, that’s all.”

Miranda ignored you, tapping at her phone again, although you were pretty sure she wasn’t doing anything. You crawled off the sofa and went over to her, sliding onto the seat beside her. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, hiding the phone again. 

“Miranda..?” You murmured, wiggling your toes against her thigh. “Look at me?”

She lifted her head to the ceiling, sighed and then looked at you. 

“What?”

“You said I look nice.”

“So you’re not deaf.” Her tone was defensive, and you smiled despite it. 

“Even though I’m just in sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

“Yes, you are dressed in those clothes.”

“And you said I look nice all the time.”

“That is something I said.”

“Are you trying to be romantic again?” You wiggled your toes, smiling fondly at her. She huffed and rolled her eyes. 

“Trying. So, failing.”

“No,” you murmured quickly, reaching out to wrap around her bicep and stroking it with your thumb. “I actually… I really liked it.”

Miranda’s gaze narrowed and became shifty, but she just huffed and then reached down to press a hand to your wiggling toes. 

“Stop fidgeting.”

“You look nice, too,” you smiled, twitching your big toe against her hand. 

She scoffed. 

“You don’t need to say it back.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it untrue.”

“I’m not… used to this.”

“I know.”

“I thought I’d try to… be better at it. Like you’re trying to learn to fight.”

“You’re comparing being romantic with me to me learning how to fight?” You chuckled and scooted closer, lifting your feet over her lap so you were practically sitting on it, although your ass was still on the sofa. “Wow, being nice to me must be super difficult.”

“If you’re going to tease me for it-”

“No,” you leaned against her shoulder and hummed. “No, I’m done teasing. Sorry. It’s just… I like it. I really like you.”

You could see her throat bob and snuggle closer, closing your eyes against her shoulder and letting her settle into the atmosphere. After a few minutes, your eyes fluttered open again as she took your hand and stroked her thumb over it. You held your breath momentarily, then smiled, tilting your head to gently kiss her shoulder. You stayed like that for a little while, not daring to speak or shift closer if it disrupted this gentle, tender moment that was rarer than Painite. 

When you felt movement, around an hour later, your eyes fluttered open, and you looked at her sleepily. Her eyes flicked over your face, and you shivered. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, her voice throaty and gentle. "The fire went out a little while ago.”

“I fell asleep,” you murmured. 

“You did.” Her lips twitched. 

“Sorry.”

“Why?” She squeezed your calf. “This time is for resting.”

“Does that mean no more workouts?” You smirked cheekily before yawning and stretching. 

“No,” she rolled her eyes, watching as you stretched with an intensity that made you flush. “We still have to train. But for today, we’re done. Let me sort the fire out; then we can decide how we’ll spend the rest of the day.”

“Can we spend it here?” You murmured. “Just… on the sofa, curled up together? Like the world outside doesn’t exist.”

A sadness slid through her eyes, but she turned her head away, shifting your legs off her lap to stand and head to the fireplace. 

“Just this once.” It came out as a whisper, one you could barely hear over the movement of logs and the metal twisting as she opened the door to restart the fire. You watched her, stacking logs with kindling and lighting it, then closing the little door again. The crackling of the fire as it built made you smile, and you inhaled slowly, the smell of woodsmoke still lingering from before. You turned your head and found it had clung to your hair. 

“I love that smell,” you murmured as she re-joined you. She’d barely sat before you were practically clambering into her lap. Huffing as though she disapproved of the action, she still tugged you closer and buried her face in your hair, inhaling. 

“Me too.”

“I think woodsmoke is one of my favourite smells,” you hummed. 

She stilled, then her nose traced along your collarbone before moving to your neck. She inhaled slowly again. 

“You’re one of mine,” she husked, and you inhaled slowly, shifting back a little to look down at her. Blue eyes stared up at you as though daring you to run away from her softness. Instead, you leaned down and kissed her. 

“You’re getting good at this,” you murmured against her lips. 

“Am I?” She breathed, her voice low, amused and teasing. She tilted her head up, and her teeth grazed your bottom lip. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” you inhaled, eyes lidded and nose rubbing against hers gently. “I want so much more.”

She kissed you again, and you sighed into it, fingers delicately shifting up to the side of her neck and moving up into her hair. Her hands slid to your hips, holding you in place, her thumbs rubbing circles into the bone. You shifted closer to her on her lap, parting your lips as soon as you felt her tongue slide along the seam. She curled it against the roof of your mouth and toyed with your tongue before pulling back and looking up at you with dark eyes. It was the same look she’d been giving you earlier.

“What?” You murmured. You became acutely aware of her left thumb rubbing circles into your hip. 

“What you said in the car. About Gemma?”

“Yes?” You murmured, watching the nervous way her eyes shifted and the tension in her jaw with anticipation. “What about it?”

“Gemma hasn’t had a girlfriend, but… I suppose it wouldn’t be… too out of the realms of-”

Miranda’s phone rang, and you both started, sucking in surprised gasps. Miranda’s jaw tightened, and she grabbed her phone and looked at the screen. Whatever she saw had her eyes darkening, and she patted your thigh quickly. You slid off her, and she stood, pressing a finger to her lips before answering the phone. 

“Cecilia, to what do I owe the inconvenience?”

Chapter Text

You stared at her as she listened to the woman on the other end of the phone. Cecilia, whoever she was, clearly wasn’t calling for a casual friends’ catch up. Miranda’s jaw was tight, her eyes sharp, and she began to pace. 

Who was Cecilia? For Miranda to trust her enough to answer the phone to her, to even have her number… You tried to ignore the jealousy rising in your chest. Whoever Cecilia was she’d interrupted a moment too. Miranda had been so close to saying… something. 

Something you could pretty much guarantee you’d wanted to hear. 

“I’ve told you everything you need to know,” Miranda said and you focused back in on her and the conversation. The faintest sound of speech through the phone caught your ear but you couldn’t make anything out. Miranda looked irritated though. “Why do you keep saying that?”

You shifted on the sofa and she glanced at you; a warning to not make a sound. You frowned, mouthing: 

‘Is everything okay?’

“Cecilia,” Miranda huffed. “I don’t really care if you think I’m lying to you, I just need you to do your fucking job.”

The voice on the other end of the phone got a little sharper and louder. Whatever she was saying was obviously irritating Miranda further but she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, taking a slow breath through her nose. 

“I think you’re very good at your job, which is why I asked you to do this for me instead of some half-wit. But if you don’t cut to the chase I’m going to be forced to hunt you down and kill you. Slowly.”

You arched an eyebrow and watched as Miranda listened to the response. Her lips twitched. 

“Yes, Cecilia, being on the run does make it difficult for me to do that. But it doesn’t mean I won’t succeed.”

Another smattering of conversation from the other end of the phone and Miranda let out a huff. 

“You’re insufferable. I hope you’re looking after my cat better than you’re helping me.”

Miranda… has a cat. You filed that information away. Cecilia was looking after the cat. You studied that information more closely. So they had to be close? Friends? Or had they been more than friends…? Just because Miranda hadn’t had a girlfriend before, it didn’t mean she hadn’t had… someone. Something. Especially because it would be easier if they worked in the same world, surely? 

You tried not to let the wave of jealousy take over your whole focus. 

“That’s useful.” Miranda pursed her lips. “Finally.”

You could hear the snort on the other end of the phone. A few more words. 

“As much as I’d love to stick around and chat endlessly about your life, Cecilia…” Miranda drawled. “I just realised I have to do something else. Anything else.”

She hung up, and turned back to look at you. Dragging your knees up to your chest, you chewed on your lip. 

“So?”

Miranda stalked back over to the sofa and put her phone on the table before collapsing next to you. 

“There’s no contract out in the usual places, which means the men I killed back at the last place were probably already in the employ of whoever is trying to kill us. Ceilia is looking into them now but they’re all ghosts, so it will take a while.”

“What do we do in the meantime?”

“Wait. Rest. Train. I can do some research. I have footage from the camera I placed on the road to the lodge, so I can see if there are any clues there.” She ran her fingers through her hair and then pinched her nose, eyes closed. “I’m trying to think who I might have pissed off enough that they’d send a whole team after me.”

“Us,” you murmured, shifting closer and taking the hand she wasn’t using. She opened her eyes and looked at you, tilting her head. “But you can’t drive yourself mad thinking about that. You’ve been thinking about that for months. It’s not helping. You must have looked at that footage already?”

“Every day,” she replied with a sigh. “I don’t see anything new.”

“Then leave it for a few days. Or let me look? Fresh eyes and all.”

“Darling, you’re hardly likely to see anything I don’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She huffed but didn’t object. “Who is Cecilia?”

Miranda’s eyes flicked to you. 

“She’s a colleague.”

“Who takes care of your cat.”

“Yes.”

“Just a colleague?”

Miranda’s lips twitched. 

“Are you jealous?”

“Maybe a little.” You squeezed her hand, thumb skating over it. “I can’t help it.”

“Mmm,” she hummed and lifted your joined hands, kissing the back of yours. “She’s someone I trust more than others, but not enough to let her know that you’re here, where we are, or anything else. She’s given me up before, and she would again, for the right price, I’m sure. Fortunately this isn’t a public contract at the moment, so she doesn’t have a large incentive.”

“So… she’s kind of a friend?”

Miranda huffed, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t have friends.”

“But if there weren’t the whole life and death, contracts and betrayal element, you probably would be?”

“Perhaps.”

It was your turn to huff, rolling your eyes, but you leaned into her and laid your head on her shoulders. 

“How do you stand it? Never knowing if you can trust someone, who is out to get you and who isn’t…?”

“It’s my life.”

“But it wasn’t always, right?” You looked up at her again. She was looking across at the fire, her eyes a little unfocused as if she were thinking. “You must have had friends as a teenager?”

“One or two.”

“Do you ever think about checking in on them?”

She snorted. 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why all the questions all of a sudden?”

“I’m just curious about your life. Besides it’s not the first time I’ve questioned you about your life.”

“No,” she shifted her head to look at you again. “It isn’t.”

You studied her face for a moment, eyes darting over the crease between her brows, the small lines starting to appear at the edge of her eyes, and the purse of her lips. Both of you leaned closer at the same moment, and slowly, you let your lips brush against each other. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as she kissed you, her tongue flicking against your bottom lip carefully. You let her in, and she shifted, turning her body more to face you as the kisses flowed into each other, one after another. When she pulled back a little, dragging in a breath, you swayed, eyes still closed, lips tingling.  

When you did open your eyes, it was to find her fixed on your face. She lifted her hand to cup your jaw and her thumb skated over your bottom lip. Your eyelashes fluttered again, lids feeling heavy. 

“Miranda…”

“Yes?”

“What were you saying before? About Gemma never having had a girlfriend, but…”

Miranda’s blue eyes sharpened and her thumb stroked over your cheek as she seemed to debate her next words. You held your breath. 

“But,” she murmured, leaning in and lowering her head, lips grazing the pulse point of your neck in a way that made your head instantly roll back to allow her better access. “Maybe one day she could. If she found someone who wouldn’t mind her life. It can be isolated when you’re a… writer.” 

She kissed up your neck and you almost didn’t take in everything she said, lost in the haze of desire for her. 

“I…” You inhaled as her tongue flicked against the hinge of your jaw. “Miranda… you’re making it really hard to think right now.”

She chuckled against your ear and tugged your earlobe lightly with her teeth. 

“Perhaps that’s the plan.” You tangled your fingers in her hair and dragged her away so you could look at her. She was smirking lazily, eyes flicking over your face. “You look so fucking good when you’re turned on.”

Groaning, you leaned in and kissed her again. Her hand slid down, until she was gripping you and lifting you onto her lap. You gasped into her mouth and her tongue curled against yours. Hands squeezed your thighs, sliding along to your ass, and dragging you closer. You cupped her face with your hands, your entire focus on her and her mouth and hands and the heat radiating from her. 

She broke from your lips again to kiss down your neck, and her hands slid under your t-shirt, up your back and then round to cup your breasts. You groaned and arched into her touch. Thumbs flicked over hardening nipples and you sucked in a breath, before breathing out a ‘yes’. She chuckled and tugged your t-shirt off over your head before ducking her head to take a nipple into her mouth. You whimpered. 

“Miranda!”

She released your nipple with a wet pop and looked up at you. 

“Yes, darling?”

“I don’t mind isolation,” you murmured, stroking her hair. “Not when it includes you.”

Her eyes burned into yours and for a moment you thought she might stop all of this, throw her walls back up and step back but…

Miranda’s thumb skated over the sensitive skin at your waist and she titled her head to the side. 

“Being on the run with you has been… better than expected.”

Your lips twitched. 

“You’re so good with compliments.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Shut up.”

You laughed and kissed her again. Together you moved until you were facing each other on the sofa, lying down, your leg hitched over her hips as her hand slid below the waistband. You unbuttoned her trousers to slide your hand inside and brushed against her clit as she did the same to you. Together, eyes locked on each other, you began to rock into each other, fingers rubbing and curling, trying to draw out the sounds that reverberated in the air between you both, breaths mingling as you both panted and gasped. She was slick against your fingers, her clit swollen against your thumb and you groaned as you felt her begin to clench as you did.

“Miranda…”

“That’s it…” She panted, nose rubbing against yours. “Like that darling.”

“I…” You curled your fingers inside her and she moaned. The sound made you clench again and your hips bucked, close to the edge. Desperately your next thrust was harder, circling her clit as you did so. She rolled into you and together you both came, moaning, foreheads pressed together. “Oh fuck, I fucking love you.”

Both of you stilled, or as much as you could with aftershocks still running through you, your breathing heavy. You closed your eyes, mind racing. Why had you let it slip now? You braced for her to run, for her to pull her fingers from you and stand up; make some excuse to leave the room as fast as possible. 

An exhale huffed against your lips and then she slowly removed her fingers. You frowned and opened your eyes. Blue eyes stared back; guarded, yes, but not withdrawn. She wiped her hand on her trousers and then stroked a strand of hair out of your face before cupping it. She leaned in and kissed you, chastely, but softly. 

“Foolish,” she murmured against your lips and then kissed you again. 

The fire crackled as she withdrew and studied your face. You still hadn’t said anything, afraid that it would push her away. But the way she was looking at you now…

“Is that okay?”

Her lips twitched. 

“Can I change your mind?”

You frowned. 

“No?”

“Foolish,” she repeated and then kissed you again. “Frustrating.” Another kiss. “Infuriating woman.”

It wasn’t what you’d expected, but then it wasn’t love either. She hadn’t run, but she hadn’t said it back. Not that you’d expected her to, but it would’ve been nice. Still, with her kissing you like this, you could hardly complain. 

The fire crackled as you removed your fingers from inside her and pressed closer, the kisses rarely breaking. Your mind raced. Was this her way of saying it back? Was she just trying to shut you up? 

“Stop thinking so much,” she murmured against your lips. 

“Can’t help it.”

She sighed. 

“If you’re waiting for a love confession…”

“I’m not,” you murmured. “Just because I said it, doesn’t mean I expect it back. I wasn’t even planning on saying it like that. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, it just-”
She kissed you, silencing the ramble, and you grumbled into her mouth before sliding your hand into her hair and kissing her harder. So she wasn’t going to say it back. That was okay. Maybe one day, when you weren’t both running for your lives, she’d be able to. 

***

You stirred, blinking, lifting your head from the sofa cushion. The sun had shifted to afternoon, and the fire had died down. You were wrapped in a blanket, naked. Miranda was nowhere to be seen. 

Frowning, you sat up, glancing around for your t-shirt and joggers. Finding the t-shirt on the floor and the joggers down the back of the sofa, you tugged them on and padded out of the living room in search of her. You found her in the kitchen, tapping through her phone again, the oven on. 

“Hey,” you murmured, leaning against the doorframe. She looked up, her lips twitched and then she looked back down at her phone. 

“Hello.”

“What are you up to?”

“Reading through what Cecilia has sent through.”

“Which is?” You stepped closer, until you were leaning on the island across from her. She glanced up again. 

“Profiles on the men. She’s busy filling in the blanks but she wanted to send over faces in case I recognised anyone. There are a few known associate files in there too.”

“And? Anything ringing a bell?”

“Nothing.” She huffed and put her phone down. “Not a single goddamn thing.”

You bit your lip, sliding your hand over to squeeze hers. She pulled her hand away. 

“Miranda-”

“Don’t. I’m not good company right now.”

“If that was going to put me off it would’ve been before now.” You slipped round the island, getting closer to her. “How can I help?”

“You can’t. I don’t need help. I need to punch something.”

“So… go and train?”

She huffed, arms crossed. 

“I might.”

You reached out and wrapped a hand around her arm, pulling one away from her waist. She eyed you warily and you rolled your eyes gently at her, stepping closer to slide your arms around her middle. 

“Would it help if I submitted to another training session? Even if you already completely destroyed me today?”

Her lips twitched. 

“No. Rest is as important as training.”

“Would it help if I looked at the faces?”

“I doubt it,” she huffed. “But go ahead.”

Chewing your lip, you twisted and took the phone, leaning back against her as you began to scroll through. After two pictures of strangers had scrolled by, her hands slid onto your hips and her face pressed against your hair. You smiled and swiped again. 

“It’s weird,” you murmured. “Seeing their faces and knowing they’re dead. Knowing they tried to kill us.”

“That never goes away.” She murmured. “Not fully. Unless you’re a psychopath.”

You let out a dry chuckle and swiped again. Still nothing, not that you’d been expecting to see your next door neighbour or something. 

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just really good at pretending to have emotions.”

“Mmm,” Miranda nuzzled into your hair and pressed a kiss to your head. “No one is that good. And I’ve met enough actual psychopaths in my time to understand the difference.”

“Have you actually?”

“Yes. Two.” Her hands tightened slightly on your hips. “Animal instinct is fascinating, because even I got the chills around them.”

“And you’re not an easy woman to unsettled.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. 
“Wait…” You frowned, looking down at the picture in front of you. “I know him from somewhere.”

Miranda stilled, and leaned her head forward to look at him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes? I mean… I think so?”

“I need certainty here, darling.”

“I… I can’t remember where from but he looks so familiar.” You zoomed in on the photo. “Where…?”

Miranda grabbed the phone and scrolled, before shoving the phone back at you. Her tone was no longer playful.

“Is any of this familiar to you?”

You stared at the screen, at dates and names. 

“What is this?”

“Everything Cecilia managed to find out on him so far, including known associates.”

“I…” You scrolled through them, frowning. “I don’t think so, I…”

You paused. 

“What?”

“I… this company? The Parish Collective? I did some work for them. I was doing some work for them right before-”

Miranda snatched the phone back and tapped a few times, raising it to her ear. You frowned, going to speak, but she raised a hand and placed her finger against your lip. 

“Cecilia. The Parish Collective. Look into them. It might be a lead. Find something good and I’ll give you a bonus so big your eyes will water.” She hung up immediately and started tapping again, removing her finger from your lips. 

“Miranda… what does this mean?”

“It means, darling,” she replied, scowling at her phone. “That it might not just be me they’re trying to kill after all.”

Chapter Text

You stared at Miranda over the plates of food between you on the island. She’d been on her phone since her brief call with Cecilia and so you’d taken it upon yourself to get the reheated food out of the oven. She’d not taken a bite yet and you were half done, though you were far more focused on her furious typing than you were on eating. 

The food sat heavily in your stomach along with the knowledge that it might be your fault that all of this was happening. Was it? 

You thought over every interaction with The Parish Collective. The CEO had given you the creeps a little, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. A lot of the rich owners of the businesses your company did work for were detached from society, used to getting everything they wanted and having nobody stand in their way… for long that is. 

You shoved away your plate and stood up. Miranda looked up at you, finally, and put down her phone. 

“Where are you going?”

“To get some air.”

“You can’t go far.”

“I know that. I’m just not going to sit here watching you type when we just worked out that this might all be my fault,” you snapped and she narrowed her eyes. 

“No one said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I’m the one with the connection, not you. That means these people are after us because of something I did.”

“Darling-”

“No,” you cut her off, feeling emotion choking your throat. “Don’t.”

You turned and left before she could see tears well in your eyes, heading out of the back door. The little porch at the back was dark and you blinked a few times, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Padding over to the railing, you leaned on it and looked up at the stars. You shivered; the night was too cold to be out in a t-shirt, joggers and no shoes or socks, but you welcomed the iciness briefly. It woke you up, though your eyes watered with it; the tears stung as they slid down your cheeks. You wiped them away and took in a long slow breath, looking out into the darkness, the trees shadowed against a sky full of stars. 

The click of the door behind you put you on high alert but you didn’t turn. It had to be Miranda. You shivered and picked one foot up from the cold wood, rubbing it against your leg. 

“You’ll get sick.”

“I’m fine,” you sniffed. She put a jumper over the railing and leaned next to you. When you glanced at her she raised an eyebrow and looked between it and you. With a sigh you took it and slipped it on. “Thank you.”

She uttered a little ‘hmm’ and glanced down at your feet. 

“I’m still amazed you’ve made it this long without dying.”

Your lips twitched but you still felt too emotional for the comment to make you feel better. 

“Maybe I’m more resilient than you give me credit for.”

Miranda’s jaw tightened and she looked up at the stars. 

“I never said you weren’t resilient.”

“I’m a liability though. I mean, really. You’d be better off if you weren’t looking after me.”

She clicked her tongue. 

“That’s technically true.”

Your heart clenched and you looked away from her, back to the darkness of the trees. 

“Great.”

“That doesn’t mean I regret it.”

“Why not?” You sniffed as tears welled again. “Because from where I’m standing you’ve spent the last few months on the run without the job that you enjoy, without the money it gives, risking your life, getting shot, losing your safe house… you can’t tell me it’s worth it.”

“Standard part of my life, really.”

“No.” You snapped, then sucked in a breath and shook your head, softening your voice as tears began to fall. “No it’s not. Because this time it’s not because you took a job and it’s not because you’re getting paid-”

“-To be fair, that is how this all started.”

“Miranda!” You shot a look at her, but she looked almost too casual for this conversation; her face impassive. 

“If you’re going to start telling me how I should be feeling about all of this could we at least do it inside so you don’t freeze to death?”

“You’re so fucking…” You trailed off, dashing tears away, then turned and walked back inside. Your feet burned as you returned to the warmth and you hissed. Miranda’s soft footsteps followed you inside, and you headed through the kitchen, unsure where you were going, but needing to be elsewhere. Her hand wrapped around your arm at the elbow and she tugged you back to face her. “Miranda, don’t, I-”

She kissed you and for a moment, surprised, your brain emptied. Your lips moved of their own accord, accepting her, before your brain caught up and you dragged yourself from her, stepping back. She studied you, eyes cautious. 

“I can’t do this right now,” you whispered, brushing your lips with your fingers, feeling the tingle she’d left. “You can’t just kiss me to distract me.”

“It’s worked before,” Miranda smirked. 

“It’s not a solution,” you snapped. 

“Well then what is?” She replied, narrowing her eyes. “Because you’re not being reasonable right now.”

“Reasonable?” You laughed. “How am I supposed to be reasonable? Someone is trying to kill me, I don’t know why, and it’s my fault that you’re in danger. It’s my fault all of this has happened to us.”

Miranda studied you for a moment. The silence stretched and then she leaned back against the wall. 

“The same dilemma that I faced for months while you had no memories? That I spent my time going over and over because my life is the dangerous one, so it had to be my fault?” She raised her chin. “The same thoughts that you told me weren’t reason enough to deny an attempt at being happy together because, despite it being insane, you thought it was worth it to be with me?”

You blinked. 

“I…” You remembered the conversation, back in the cabin, the night before you’d been found. The night that Miranda had finally kissed you again and stopped fighting what was between the both of you. “I didn’t mean-”

“I’m not good with this feelings shit, okay?” Miranda groused, but her voice was quiet. Calm. Controlled. “But if it was up to you whether this was all worth it when it seemed like this was my fault, surely the reverse is true?”

You closed your eyes and took a breath. You’d hurt her and she was trying to be reasonable instead of responding… well, just like you were. It was role reversal and you hadn’t expected it. 

“Miranda, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She kissed her teeth and sighed, looking down. “I gave you months of keeping you at a distance, telling you we couldn’t do this…”

“That doesn’t mean that I should behave like this.”

“You’re in a completely new situation,” she shrugged. 

“So were you.” She scoffed. “Okay, well not the whole being hunted down type things but it’s not like you were used to having to navigate anyone else’s feelings. Or having someone else there at all.”

“No,” she mused, humming. “But you didn’t let me push you away. So maybe I shouldn’t… let you spiral or whatever this is.”

“You’re worried about me.”

“For someone insistent that we try to be together,” she huffed, standing straight again. “You’re consistently surprised when I show that I care.”

“I just… I don’t want you to feel like-”

“Stop it,” she reached out, catching your hand. “Your feelings are valid blah blah blah - isn’t that what people say these days?”

You let out a little chuckle and rubbed at your eyes with your free hand. 

“Something like that.”

“So, tell me how to help, because I have more to focus on than your emotions being chaotic.”

“Right.” It was more about controlling the situation and your feelings not getting in the way. Of course. 

“Whatever you just thought, cut it out,” she sighed. “I’m efficient, but not heartless. Despite my best efforts. Just… I don’t know what you need. You need to tell me.”

“I need to feel like… Like I’m not the worst person in the world for blowing up your life.”

“Did you think I was the worst person in the world when we thought it was my fault?”

“No, but-”

“Then that is a useless thought. Put it out of your mind.”

“It’s not that easy-”

“Then train yourself.”

“Miranda-”

“Stop,” she caught your other hand and squeezed them together between hers. “I saw you at work. I saw how efficient you were. How powerful. That’s the person you need to remember right now. Stop floundering and be the person who was so good she had her own office and a secretary. Be the person who looked like she ruled the city.”

“That was work, that’s- I knew what I was doing there, this isn’t-”

“But I know what I’m doing here. You just need to know how to handle yourself. Clearly, you were doing that before. Do it now.”

“Miranda…” You whispered. “I’m scared.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. 

“I know.” Her thumbs skated over the back of your hands. “I know you are, darling. But that’s not going to help either of us. You need to stop whatever this is and focus on what we can do.”

“Like what?”

“Like figuring out why The Parish Collective want you dead.”

***
You woke up in the dark, to find the fire had burned away to ash. Groggy, you lifted your head and looked around the room. Everything was still and quiet, save for the sound of the trees in the window outside. Miranda’s breathing was even under your cheek, where you’d fallen asleep on her chest. 

In front of you on the coffee table were the pile of documents that Cecilia had sent over about The Parish Collective. Miranda had printed them to make it easier to look over, and you’d spent a few hours going through everything with no luck. Your memory was still a little elusive on some details, but nothing from your interactions with the company stood out. You’d treated them as you would any other client. 

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and yawned. Miranda stirred next to you and cracked one eye open as you looked back at her. 

“What are you doing?” 

Her sleepy voice made your lips twitch. 

“We should sleep in bed.”

“Mmm,” she grunted and closed her eyes again. You chuckled and reached over, stroking hair from her face. Her eyes flicked open. “What are you doing?”

“Making a good choice for both of our backs.”

“I’m not that old,” she scoffed. 

“Mhmmm,” you teased and then slowly stood. Reaching out a hand, you waited for her to join you. With a sleepy huff, she took your hand and allowed you to help her up, grimacing as she did. “What was that about your age?”

“Shut up,” she groused, tugging her hand away and you laughed softly, reaching out to tug her closer again by her t-shirt. 

“Make me,” you murmured, eyes trailing over her face to her lips. They twitched into a smirk. 

“You’re such a brat.”

“Am I?” You whispered, leaning in. “Here I thought I was-”

She kissed you, cutting your off. Your body leaned into her, pressing against every curve and hard line, arms sliding over her shoulders and fingers tangling in her hair. You sighed happily into the kiss, smiling against her lips, letting the anxiety and stress of the last few hours fade away. Her hands, warm and strong, slid over your hips, holding you to her. She nipped at your lip as she pulled back her head a little and her blue eyes studied every inch of your face, slowly, leaving you breathless. 

“What are you looking for?” You breathed, rubbing your nose over hers as you leaned back in. 

“For?” She husked, pressing light kisses to you, one after the other. “Nothing. At? You.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, something softer than usual, and you pulled back a little to look at her with a smile. Her eyes shifted away, a habit, before returning to hold your gaze steadily. 

“I love you,” you whispered. Her gaze shuttered, eyelashes fluttering and her jaw tightening, just a little, but she didn’t withdraw. “I know you’re not going to say it back. I just want to keep reminding you because… well, I don’t want you to doubt it. I want you to know every day that I-”

She kissed you again, and this time, it wasn’t gentle. It was intense, slow and all consuming. You forgot everything you’d been trying to say and melted into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed as one of Miranda’s hands buried in your hair and tugged your head close. When she withdrew this time, both of you were panting. 

“Shut up,” she breathed, lips twitching. “Frustrating, fascinating creature.”