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Chapter Text

Nesta was having what was unequivocally a shit morning.

Not only was her usual flight to New York unavailable, she was flying out of Dulles at seven in the goddamn morning.

Which meant arriving to the airport at five, which meant waking up and leaving her cozy DC apartment no later than four thirty.

The things she did in the name of diplomacy.

The United Nations certainly didn’t care about convenience, and Nesta would be damned if the US looked foolish at the Security Council because of inadequate prep.

Thus, here she was, in desperate need of coffee, running through all the things she would need to do once she reached the team later this morning.

It was a back and forth between DC and NYC that she could definitely do without, but high-level ministerial meetings were never meant to be easy, and with last minute illnesses paired with actively evolving conflicts, this was what she was given.

At least there was coffee.

Cheap, watered down coffee. But coffee, nonetheless.

Scrolling through emails, Nesta paid little attention to the line that moved sluggishly ahead of her. Only when she placed an order for her latte did she glance up, and even then, only to pay.

Moving to the side, she took a few steps towards the end of the bar, where orders were being placed.

She didn’t see the person in front of her, focused as she was on reading her last messages with the New York team before everyone had called it a night. And, more importantly, on not falling asleep standing up.

If she had, she would have paused, if only to take in how handsome he was.

Instead, an entirely different scenario unfolded.

The man in front of her turned, just as she stepped up towards the bar, and then Nesta was wide fucking awake. Because suddenly, there was boiling hot coffee dousing the front of her blouse, seeping all the way into her skin.

“Oh fuck!”

Vaguely, she heard her phone clatter to the ground, but was instead more focused on trying to get her hands around the cup that was tilted towards her chest, battling with a much larger set of extremities that was trying to do the exact same thing.

“What the fuck!”

The man reared back, taking the remnants of his boiling coffee with him, and it was then she caught the bright stripes – four of them – and the crisp white shirt, the black tie. The wings.

A fucking pilot.

A fucking gorgeous pilot, with wide hazel eyes and curls that were pulled back, emphasizing a chiseled jaw and bronzed skin.

And there was hot coffee burning her breasts.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you alright??”

Nesta blinked, realizing with horror that she’d been staring at him blankly while he was saying full sentences to her, too caught up in the fact that there was no way in hell he was fucking real.

“Have you ever considered watching where you’re going?!” She snapped, hissing at the pain that had just begun to settle. “This is Chanel.”

The man’s brows rose, and without missing a beat, he replied,

“Well, sweetheart, if you hadn’t been buried in whatever was so interesting on your phone, you would have been more aware of your surroundings.”

Rage overtook every aspect of Nesta’s consciousness. Fucking sweetheart?! Oh, she knew this type. A cock-sure pilot who probably thought he could have every woman in the world and spent all his free time looking up the skirts of flight attendants.

“You spilled your coffee on me!” She all but shrieked. “Have you ever heard of a lid?”

“I was working on it,” Cassian snapped, turning to grab a bunch of napkins from the bar. “Here, at least let me-”

His hands moved, as if to press them to her shirt, but he froze, as if just now realizing where the majority of the stain was.

Nesta’s cheeks burned, and she snatched the paper from his hands, pressing it to her chest. In exchange, he bent down to grab her phone from its resting place on the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut in silent prayer that it wasn’t broken.

“Looks like it’s in one piece,” he offered, attempting a smile.

She reached out and took it a bit more harshly than she needed to, shoving it into a pocket.

“I cannot see the Ambassador like this,” she muttered to herself, with a scowl. “Of all the fucking days.”

“Do you have another shirt?” He asked. “If not, you can get one in the terminal, I can pay for it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, focused on the hopeless endeavor of dabbing at the coffee on her shirt. “Of course I have another shirt.”

“That was fresh coffee, you should make sure you aren’t burned. I can get first aid-”

“It’s fine,” She gritted out. “You can leave now. Go fly your fucking plane, Captain.”

The man straightened, crossing his arms.

“Can’t do that for another forty-five minutes, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Another coffee?” A voice called – the young barista who apparently had been watching the exchange in silent horror.

Nesta watched in disgust as he flashed her a cocky smile, one that he almost certainly used to charm everyone in the vicinity to give him whatever he wanted.

She was going to vomit.

“That would be amazing, thank you. And maybe expedite the order for miss…?”

“Dirty chai with a quad shot for Nesta!” Another barista called out, causing her head to turn to the side.

“Jesus Christ,” the man said, only serving to infuriate her further. “It’s not even seven am.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she snapped, pulling her beverage towards her as if it would somehow save her from this horror story.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Nesta scowled. “Some of us aren’t morning people.”

“I don’t think ingesting enough caffeine to kill you has anything to do with being a morning person.”

“I don’t see how that is relevant to me in the slightest.”

“Can I at least reimburse you for your coffee?” He asked as she moved away, desperate for a bathroom.

“No,” Nesta said. “I think we’re done here.”

Head held high, she marched towards her gate without looking back.

Her gate that was, typically, at the end of the terminal.

Nesta scowled, scanning her eyes for the closest bathroom. She’d brought an extra suit – two, actually – but she planned each outfit carefully, and now she’d have to rethink everything.

At least the hotel would have a dry-cleaning service.

After another two minutes, she pushed into a stall, ripping open her carry on to find her other cream blouse, stopping only for a moment to look down at her bright red chest.

She grimaced. Maybe she should consider first aid.

A problem for later.

Pushing open the door as she finished tucking her blouse into her skirt, Nesta huffed, feeling only marginally better as she walked back out into the main hall.

Moving quickly towards her gate, she noted the time – hoping boarding wouldn’t be delayed at all.

It would be a tight commute getting from the airport to the US office, and she couldn’t risk being late.

She sighed in relief as she approached, happy to see that it wasn’t too terribly crowded.

But she’d barely gotten settled along the wall when her minute happiness was interrupted.

“I thought I told you we were done,” She said with a scowl. “And now you’re following me? You’re already haunting my dreams.”

The pilot from earlier raised his brows, and something far too close to amusement settled across his far too pretty face.

“We were done,” he said, with a grin. “This is my flight. Looks like I’m your pilot.”

Nesta’s lips parted, at a loss for words.

This could not be happening.

He passed with a soft laugh, walking towards the jet bridge, calling out with a god damn wink,

“But glad to know you've been dreaming about me, sweetheart.”

---

Cassian loved to fly.

He fucking loved it.

Being up in the sky, with nothing but the clouds and eternal peace.

He especially loved it in the mornings, when he got to watch the sun rise – the brilliance of the colors, the sight of the world waking.

It wasn’t quite the same as the speed he was used to in the Air Force, but these bigger birds had their own elegance to them. Plus, the quieter side of things was good for him. The time up here allowed him to clear his head, to maintain the peace he’d been working so hard to preserve.  

To heal, as his therapist would say.

But today, he was...unraveled.

Unraveled in the sense that he had just seen the most beautiful woman on God’s green Earth and had promptly spilled his hot coffee all over her.

What a fucking idiot.

God, she’d been so pissed. He could have dropped to his knees right there to apologize.

And her eyes. The most gorgeous shade he’d ever seen. Striking, and full of fire.

On principle, he almost never paid for his coffee. But he’d been bored, and the pre-flight briefing had dragged, and he needed to stretch his legs.

And now his mind was absolutely scrambled. Bamboozled. Fucked.

He’d looked over the manifest twice now, for her name.

Nesta Archeron.

Her social media presence was small – private, suggesting that she did something important – not uncommon, since they were in DC.

So, he did the reasonable thing and looked her up on LinkedIn.

Impressive didn’t even begin to cut it.

Oxford, then Georgetown. More internships and fellowships and positions than he could count.

Did this make him a creep?

“Cap, you alright?”

Cassian blinked, turning his head to look at his First Officer – a nice-looking kid, who’d done the walk around while he’d been floating on air, thinking about her.

The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen who’d he’d almost killed this morning.

“Fine,” he said, straightening in his seat, clearing his throat. Tucking his phone away, he added, “Ready for checks.”

Somewhere behind him, she was probably getting settled in business class, still buried in that phone. Maybe her brows were furrowed in that adorable little way they had been in the seconds before disaster.

He hoped whoever ‘The Ambassador’ was went easy on her this morning.

A grin tugged at his lips as he pulled up the pre-flights on his tablet.

Maybe he would just have to wish her good luck when they landed and redeem himself.

---

It had been a long fucking two days.

 Nesta was proud of the work she did, she really was.

She hadn’t gone into treaty law for nothing.

But sometimes… Sometimes working for the United States Government was like taking a baseball bat to the head. Over and over and over.

Incredibly frustrating, with a healthy dose of moral questions.

Maybe this was the year she’d start looking into the International Court of Justice, or something. Or worse, teaching.

Taking a long sip of her wine, she rolled her shoulders, trying to force her body to relax.

The bar next to her hotel was loud, but the music was good. It was a Friday night in Manhattan, so she didn’t expect much different.

Maybe she’d dance a little. Or, if someone caught her eye, find relaxation through other means.

She’d sworn off all dating after ‘Tomas Mandray’s Two Years of Terror’, as her friends Gwyn and Emerie liked to call it. Now, she was in what her sisters (not) affectionately called ‘Nesta’s Whore Phase.’ The callous wording wasn’t lost on her, but Feyre liked to be coarse just because she could.

To be fair, she had enjoyed a few rebounds. And her sisters always happened to bother her when she was in the middle of them.

Oh well.

Part of her wished she was living up to what her family surely pictured was nights of fucking anyone who looked at her more than once. But instead, far more often than not, her only bed mate was her cat and her work laptop, which she often fell asleep half on top of.

At least she had a very nice hotel shower with a detachable shower head. The thought sent a flash of that far too attractive pilot through her mind, and a spark in her gut.

She wished she’d gotten his name, so she could look him up.

Fuck, did that make her a creep?

He’d given her that shit eating grin that she hated when she’d stepped off the plane, wishing her a good day and the best of luck. And then he had the audacity to strut through JFK like he owned it, chatting and laughing with who she presumed was his co-pilot.

Fuck him. What did he know. She didn’t need luck, she needed skill. And she had lots of it.

And maybe a better vibrator.

With a scowl, she finished her glass, pushing it away from her.

Another wouldn’t hurt, but she usually kept herself to one. But what her family didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them.

“Well, if this isn’t a surprise.”

The voice was warm in her ear, low yet friendly.

“Jesus Christ!”

Nesta whirled, meeting the eyes of him of all people.

This could not be happening.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

The pilot smiled, tilting his head.

“Well, I had some downtime, and don’t fly back to DC until tomorrow, so I thought I’d get a drink. Hotel’s next door. I was certainly not expecting to see you here, though. Glad you survived your lifetime supply of caffeine.”

Nesta blinked, then blinked again. Then said, flatly, "this has to be a fucking joke.”

To his credit, his laugh was bright.

“Afraid not, sweetheart. This is usually where I stay. I like the showers best.”

She was going to scream.

“Don’t you have like… like a launch pad or something for you to sleep at?!”

His grin only grew, amusement written all over his face.

“There are a few crash pads in the city, yes, but I usually stay here when I’m in town. More private.”

Nesta shook her head, turning back towards the bar, where she lifted her glass to the bartender, a silent plea to save her life.

“I imagine it is better for the poor flight attendants and whoever else you can find to take to bed to stroke your cocky pilot ego.”

He leaned against the bar, crossing his arms.

“Well, I’m flattered my bed habits have been on your mind, Nesta, but I assure you it’s just because I like good water pressure and fluffy hotel pillows.”

Nesta frowned, thanking the woman behind the bar for her second glass before taking a long sip.

He looked far too handsome for her tired mind to comprehend. A form fitting t-shirt and jeans was a far cry from his pilot’s uniform, but both would occupy her thoughts far more than she would admit.  

“I’m not convinced you haven’t been stalking me.”

The pilot shrugged, his hair falling back behind his shoulders. “Fair enough. It has been a strange series of coincidences.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. Gwyn would have called it fate, she was sure, hopeless romantic that she was.

“If anything, it seems like the universe has offered me the opportunity to pay you back for the coffee mishap the other day.”

Leveling him a blank stare, she replied,

“That is the worst offer to buy someone a drink I have ever heard.”

The pilot laughed again, as if she were the world’s funniest comedienne.

“It was a genuine one, sweetheart. Besides, you look like you could use it. Rough day at the office?”

Nesta sighed. On the one hand, she didn’t know this man at all and should be creeped out by his continued appearances in her proximity. On the other…

“Fine. One glass. But I only accept drinks from men whose name I know.”

She knew by his expression she’d caught him off guard, as if he hadn’t realized she still didn’t know it. (If he’d announced it over the intercom preflight, she certainly hadn’t been listening.)

He straightened, and reached out a hand, before he said,

“Cassian. Cassian Martinez.”

---

Cassian would have to send prayers of gratitude later, for this turn of events.

Nesta Archeron looked somehow even more beautiful in a blouse and jeans than she did in the slim pencil skirt and blazer he’d seen her in previously. Her hair was still kept pristinely up, and the heels on her feet threatened to send him into oblivion, but there was something softer, and incredibly fascinating about this woman that had him entirely devoted.

“You know, I thought you were going to kill us with that landing. Could you have put the plane down any harder?”

Cassian snorted, sipping his beer.

“What can I say, I’m a military pilot through and through. I’ve done much harder landings than that, I assure you.”

Nesta quirked a brow at him, lips pursed. “That does not surprise me in the slightest. Air Force?”

“I did eight years. Deployed four times.”

She hummed, swirling her glass. “And then you decided American Airlines was your one true calling.”

“Obviously. The perks are too good to be true.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve used the clout to land more than a few bedmates.”

With a nudge, he smirked at her. “So fixated on my sex life, Nes, someone would think you were interested.”

Nesta reared back, sputtering. Fury made her eyes burn, which in turn made his pants tighter. (Lord help him, he needed to get a GRIP.)

“First – do not ever call me Nes again. Second – I could not care less about where a random stranger puts his cock. It’s simply a stereotype you seem to fit far too well.”

So bold and brash. He might be in love.

“Are we strangers, sweetheart? Here I was thinking we were at least acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances know more about each other than their names and their reactions to having hot coffee poured on their chest at 6:45 in the morning.”

Cassian grimaced.

“Well, what would you like to know then?”

Nesta assessed him, contemplative.

“Where are you from?”

“Illinois, originally. But now I live just outside DC, where I’m based.”

“Oh? Why the move?”

“My brother works in politics; my other brother is Secret Service. I like to be close to them.”

She hummed, as if it made sense.

“And you?” He asked. “How does someone like you end up doing something presumably very important?”

Nesta snorted. “I grew up in Massachusetts. Went away to college. Work for the government now.”

“Family far away then?”

She shrugged, as if it weren’t important. But there was something like a grimace over her features, indicating it was a sore subject. He decided to leave it alone.

“Really though,” he offered, “I am sorry about the coffee. I hope it didn’t throw your day off completely.”

She sighed, rolling her shoulders for the fourth time since he arrived – as if there was a tension, she was unable to ease. (He, for one, would certainly like to try.) Absentmindedly, her foot tapped in time with the beat of the music.

“It was about as bad as I expected,” she muttered. “But it’s fine.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

The song changed then, one he didn’t recognize, but suddenly she perked up, straightening. Abruptly, she knocked back her wine in one gulp.

“You want to make it up to me?” She asked him. “For the coffee?”

Cassian bit back another smile. “I thought that was what I was doing.”

She levelled him an unamused look, but it only lasted for a moment. Instead, she held out a hand.

“Do pilots know how to dance?”

---

Cassian was fully convinced now.

He was head over heels for this woman.

This woman who was certainly about to kill him.

Nesta danced like it was her true purpose in this world.

It was Elegant. Smooth. Downright Sinful. 

And it was the impending cause of his death.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear, his hands flexing over her hips as they swayed in time to the music, pulling her back closer against his chest. “You could kill a man with a talent like this.”

Nesta smirked, a low laugh slipping from her lips as her arms raised, fingers brushing up his neck. Tilting her head back, she replied, into his ear,

“Who says I haven’t?”

Lord have mercy.

“Am I your next victim, then?” He asked, spinning her out and back, mesmerized at how easily her feet moved – like she was walking on air.

Nesta tilted her head, looping her arms around his neck as the music slowed.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

His blood burned hot at the insinuation, and suddenly, he found himself desperate to be on his knees before her.

It wasn’t what he’d intended, when he’d spotted her this evening, but fuck, if it wasn’t now his greatest desire.

She held his gaze as his hands slid up her back and down, squeezing her waist. There was amusement there, like a cat watching her prey. Her fingers looped through the base of his curls, and it took all his focus not to preen.

“You keep up well,” she said. “Not many can.”

Cassian blessed his Latin roots for that.

“Are you impressed?” He asked, dipping his head low so she could hear him.

“I wouldn’t go that far. There are many hours left in the night.”

He took a risk – though, really, it was because he was so intoxicated by her perfume that he needed more – and brushed his nose along her neck. In his arms, Nesta shivered.

“Are there any other ways to score high marks than dancing?” He asked, his lips against her skin.

Nesta stopped moving entirely, and took a full step back, her eyes pinning him in place.

Fuck. Had he moved too fast?

Her gaze trailed over him, and she kept him in suspense for a full ten seconds, her expression unreadable.

Then she held out a hand, and when he took it, she tugged, turning to leave the dancefloor.

The next few minutes was a blur of paying tabs, gathering jackets, and pushing through bodies, but when the night air finally hit Cassian’s face, he was grinning ear to ear.

---

Nesta had not intended to fuck the pilot.

She really, really hadn’t.

But God, did this man know how to kiss.

The elevator ride to her floor was way too long and – blessedly – empty. But in that span of time, she had tugged him in by the shirt, and hauled her mouth to his.

Cassian had responded instantly, shoving her up against the wall, cupping her face in both of his hands, tilting it back so he could dominate every aspect of the series of messy kisses they shared.

He tasted like citrus, but also something sultry, and Nesta’s toes had curled in her heels as she all but let him lift her off the floor, his tongue exploring her mouth like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it.

Her nails dug into the small of his back, a downright filthy sound falling from her lips.

He laughed, delighted, but then the elevator dinged, and he stepped back, tilting his head.

“Your floor, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

Nesta blinked, dazed, and it was only the triumphant smirk on his face that had her pushing forward, down the long hall and around the corner towards her room.

Approaching the door, she fumbled with her purse, searching for her key. The warm hands that gripped her waist, followed by the urgent kisses on her neck certainly did not help.

But finally, the door swung open, and she only vaguely registered Cassian shutting it with his foot before he was pushing her backwards into the dresser, the mirror rattling against the wall.

Nesta’s head fell back against it as he peppered kisses down her neck, his hands sliding up her blouse, over her breasts.

“Can I?” He breathed against her skin, and she nodded quickly, desperate for the garment to be on the floor, if only so the air could cool her blood.

Cassian grinned, working the buttons slowly down to her navel. But as he pulled the shirt off her shoulders, he clicked his tongue, eyes assessing the skin on her chest that still bore the remnants of a burn.

“Oh, baby, you really should have let me take you to first aid,” he said softly, and seemed genuinely troubled by the sight as he dipped to press kisses over her breasts, covering all of the healing skin.

“So you could rub burn cream all over my chest?” She asked, voice higher in pitch, as her hand slid up through his hair.

Cassian’s teeth bit down on her nipple through the lace of her bra, in silent chastisement.

“So you weren’t uncomfortable for the rest of the day.” He corrected.

Nesta hummed. “There’s cream in the bathroom. You can take care of it later.”

His eyes lit up, as if that sounded like the perfect way to end his evening.

Weirdo.

But then, he was on his knees, hands skating up her thighs. Thumbing the button of her jeans, he waited patiently for her nod, his question in his eyes.

Nesta lifted her hips to accommodate him as he pulled down her pants, unceremoniously kicking off her heels to somewhere else in the room. A low sound rumbled from his chest as he took her in, his gaze so intense she flushed.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

She barely had the chance to spread her legs wider before he was pressing kisses up the inside of her thigh. Nesta’s eyes closed, her hand gripping the wood of the dresser.

Without warning, Cassian pressed his tongue against her through her panties, drawing a strangled gasp from her throat.

“And you’re so wet for me, too. How long have you been thinking about this, Nes?”

Nesta huffed, using her other hand to tug on his hair.

“About as long as you, I imagine.”

Cassian grinned, tugging down her underwear in an easy movement.

“I wanted to drop to my knees before you the moment we met. Would I have found you this ready for me, I wonder? If you were, I can’t say I’m not sad we waited.”

Glaring down at him, Nesta lifted her leg, hooking it over his shoulder. The movement pushed his head forward, a silent command. He let out a sound that indicated he enjoyed being bossed around far more than he wanted to admit.

“Keep talking and you’ll never find out if the wait was worth it.”

He hummed, pressing more kisses to her skin. Then, he settled down on his legs, and, for lack of a better term, began to devour her.

It was all consuming – the broad strokes of his tongue, which alternated with the harsh suck of his lips as he drew her clit into his mouth. Nesta was typically picky with how she liked to be pleasured, but this man, it seemed, inherently knew how she liked it.

Before she could help it, she was rocking against his face, nails digging into the dresser while her other hand pressed him closer, in silent urging.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her foot that still rested on the floor pushing up on her toes, if only to press closer. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He groaned against her, hands gripping the meat of her thighs. After a particularly delicious pass of his tongue, followed by the graze of his teeth, Nesta’s other hand left the desk to join in threading through his hair.

Before she could lose her balance, his shoulder dropped, and he hoisted her other leg over his shoulder as if she were light as a feather.

Her head fell back against the mirror with a thud, and she hoped, absentmindedly, that there were no next-door neighbors to witness it.

“Cassian,” She breathed. “Cassian, don’t stop.”

His fingers dug into her skin, making her back arch and her nails scrape against his scalp.

She’d never been unraveled this quickly before; she hadn’t thought it was possible.

But now she was hurtling towards that cliff’s edge, unable to gain a semblance of the control she usually favored.

She was making a mess of him, she knew, but she couldn’t stop the writhe of her hips. She just needed more.

Suddenly, his right hand slipped from her leg, only for two fingers to push into her a moment later. She hadn’t realized his hands were so big, until the digits curled, reaching those places inside her only few could find.

The sound it wrenched from her lips was certainly a scream, though she’d never admit it.

It was a lost battle from that moment. It only took a few thrusts of his hand, a flick of his tongue, and then her vision was white, her entire body igniting with the heat of what was, without question, the best orgasm of her life.

Her legs shook, but she didn’t notice until he brought her back to reality by rubbing his hands along the quivering muscles, soothing.

Pressing another kiss over her clit, he smirked up at her, all male pride.

“Oh, you needed that, didn’t you, sweetheart? Look at you, gorgeous thing.”

He rubbed the back of his hand over his lips, which glistened.

She didn’t have the mental faculties to chastise him. Instead, she reached for him, desperate for this man to fuck her into the mattress as soon as possible.

Cassian laughed, pushing to his feet, pulling her legs around his waist and lifting her with ease, turning on his heel to set her back down over the quilt. Scooting back towards the pillows, she watched as he yanked his t-shirt over his head, and dropped his hands to his belt.

Not a single thought made it through her head as she took in the lean muscle, the tattoos that swirled over his chest and collarbones, stopping at his bicep.

There was no way a human being could look this sculpted.

It almost made her self-conscious, with her soft stomach and long, awkward legs.

“I-” She started, then stopped, needing to clear her throat. “I’m assuming you have a condom?”

Cassian tilted his head, just as he dropped his pants to the floor.

“How presumptive of you. Do you have a condom?”

Nesta scowled, even as he bent down to retrieve his wallet. “You’re the cocky pilot.”

Cassian laughed, assessing her with furrowed brows.

“What is with you and thinking all pilots are sluts?”

Nesta quirked a brow. “Aren’t they?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

But Nesta didn’t care anymore. Not as he slid his boxers down his legs, and she was faced with something far, far more interesting.

Jesus, he was huge.

She’d be a slut too, with a cock like that.

“You’re staring,” he teased, rolling the condom he’d retrieved from his wallet over his length. “I’m flattered.”

Nesta reached for him, tugging, until he was flipped onto his back, and she could straddle his waist.

“Stop talking,” she ordered, he nails scratching just lightly over his chest as she ground herself down against him.

Cassian swore, head falling against the pillows. “Don’t be gentle with me, Nes.”

She smirked, nails digging in just a little harder, delighting at the moan it drew from him, his hands squeezing her hips so hard she had a feeling there would be fingerprints.

That was just fine with her.

Reaching down, she gripped him in her hand, squeezing, before she lined herself up, and began to sink down.

Fuck, he was big. So big she was afraid he wouldn’t fit.

“You are fucking tight,” he hissed, fingers flexing. “Nice and slow, baby, that’s it. Good girl.”

His praise did something to her, and she was suddenly sure she’d let him do all kinds of things to her, if he wished.

She rolled her hips experimentally as she adjusted around him, until finally, blessedly, he was seated comfortably inside her.

Cassian’s hands slid up her back, toying with the clasp of her bra, with she realized abruptly, was still on.

“Let me see you,” he said. “Please?”

Nesta flushed, but reached behind her, undoing the clasp, letting her breasts fall free as she slid the fabric off her shoulders.

He muttered something – like a prayer – and then his hands were grabbing, stroking over the skin.

“I think this is how I die,” he said, almost in a daze.

Nesta scowled at him, and abruptly rose and dropped on his cock.

“Shut up.”

He obeyed her, if only because he sat up to replace his hands with his mouth.

She set a rhythm, slow at first, then hard and fast, her hands running over his shoulders, up his neck, down his chest.

He panted against her skin, and she tugged him by the hair, to kiss him again.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he breathed against her mouth. “Perfect, gorgeous, girl.”

Nesta whimpered, biting her lip to keep from crying out at as he began to thrust his hips upwards, to meet her movements.

He tsked, lifting a hand to cup her cheek, thumb pulling her lip free.

“Don’t be quiet on me now,” he said. “I want the entire floor to know how well you’re getting fucked by a cocky pilot.”

As he said the words, his other hand shifted on her hip, allowing his thumb to press back against her clit.

She lost her control then, moaning so loudly she expected a phone call from the front desk with a noise complaint at any moment.

He flipped them a few moments later, thrusting his hips deeper, hand reaching up to grip the headboard. Nesta hooked her legs around his hips, arms looping around his shoulders, nails biting into the skin.

“Yes,” she gasped, “Don’t stop.”

His lips returned to her neck, nipping the skin, before he nestled his face in the crook of her shoulder.

“You’re going to cum for me again,” he ordered, returning his hand between her legs. “Give it to me, Nesta.”

It was too much, the sensation building until she thought she might cry. She almost begged him to stop – to take pity on her – but then she was cresting again, her voice breaking as her back arched against him.

He groaned his approval. “Good fucking girl.”

Then, his hips began snapping into her at a pace she didn’t think possible, his hands holding her steady as he reached his peak.

“Fuck,” he swore against her. “Fuck, Nesta!”

His body jolted as he climaxed, his arm trembling from where he was holding himself up. Nesta tugged his head back towards her, to kiss him through it.

He nipped at her lip in response, a soft laugh falling from his throat.

“You,” he said, breathless, “are trouble, sweetheart.”

And Nesta, despite herself, grinned.

---

Cassian hadn’t spent a night like this in years.

As much as Nesta teased him about his bed habits as a pilot, he had been mostly celibate, married to his work and family, over the last few months.

There’d been a few hookups here and there, but nothing like this.

They’d only rested a moment before he was inside her again, her hands gripping the headboard so tightly her knuckles were white as he pounded into her from behind.

And later, in the shower, she’d sunk to her knees, those bright eyes flashing up at him through her lashes as she purred,

“Close your eyes. Enjoy the shower you like so much.”

Cassian came so hard down her throat he still tingled.

Of course, he got her back with his fingers against the bathroom sink– he was raised right, after all – and now, he watched as she rested in bed on her stomach, head pillowed in her arms, decidedly sleepy.

Stroking a hand up and down her back, he knew he had a problem.

Smitten didn’t even begin to describe the feeling in his chest.

But as much as he wanted to spend the next few days wrapped up with her under these sheets, they both had jobs to do.

“Hey,” he said gently, rubbing just a bit harder to coax her eyes back open. “You up, sweetheart?”

Nesta hummed, her eyes fluttering. When they peaked out at him, nothing more than slits, he said,

“I’ve got to leave early for the airport. I just wanted you to know, so you didn’t think I was ghosting, when you woke up.”

She made another sound – one he took as acknowledgement – before her hand reached out, tugging on him.

It was a simple enough request.

Settling down against the mattress, he scooped her over against his chest, until her head pillowed on his shoulder. If she was a post-sex cuddler, he wasn’t going to complain.

Reaching out an arm, he checked his phone, confirming his alarms, before he flicked off the light and drew up the blankets.

Closing his eyes, he couldn’t help the small smile that still tugged at his lips.

Maybe, if he was lucky, this would be the first night of many.

---

Nesta woke to a warm bed, but an empty one.

Pillows had been tucked carefully around her; the blankets brought over her shoulder – far more care than she ever would have offered herself. Which meant, someone had been here.

It took several moments for her to figure out why she was in this delightfully cozy situation, her head lifting with a groan, her body stretching out, languid.

But then, her alarm beeped, and she was jolted back to reality.

Fuck. The pilot.

She’d fucked the pilot.

Cursing, she pushed herself up, brushing a hand through her hair which was still damp from the shower. There was a pleasant ache between her legs, but a looseness to her limbs she hadn’t experienced in, well… ever?

But as good as her night was, she was discombobulated. She was due at the airport, and soon.

And she’d fucked the fucking pilot.

Pushing back the blankets, she stumbled out of bed, shivering at the cool air. Moving throughout the room, she gathered her clothes, tucking them as neatly as she could into her carry on, before dressing in the same jeans from the night before and a sweater.

Haphazardly she threw her jewelry, makeup, and other random items into her bag, putting her laptop, files, and other essentials away neatly.

It was so rushed she almost missed the note that had been placed carefully beside her phone.

Picking it up, she squinted her eyes to read the messy scrawl. A phone number, with the simple message,

“Safe travels, sweetheart. Hope to see you soon. – C.”

Something sparked in her chest at the sight of it. Something that she quickly squashed down.

Nesta was not in the place for a relationship. No matter how handsome, kind, funny, and ridiculously good at sex Cassian Martinez was.

She was a mess, her life was a mess, and anyone who knew her would tell him that.

Still, she couldn’t bear to throw the paper away. So, she folded it and slid it neatly into her wallet, before she finished what was a less than skilled departure from her hotel room.

Infuriatingly, the thought of him consumed her all the way to the airport, through security, and for the hour she spent at her gate.

She wondered if he’d already left, or if he was here somewhere, doing whatever it was pilots did before flight.

She thought about texting him more than once.

Each time, she denied herself.

She was probably nothing more than a one-night stand to him, right? Maybe he was just hoping for another round of groundbreaking sex. (And it was groundbreaking.) Once he learned more about her than the bare minimum, that interest would fade, like all the others.

But fuck, a woman could dream.

It kept her in her head as she boarded, her inner war with herself distracting her until she was settled in her seat.

Absentmindedly, she shot off a text to Gwyn, who had graciously offered to pick her up from Dulles, as well as a few emails, to wrap up her work for the week. Closing her apps, there was an air of finality. An end to a whirlwind few days.

Which meant an end to him.

Back to reality, Nesta.

Reaching for her headphones, she prepared to zone out for the next 90 minutes, to put all her life problems on hold until they were back in the city.

She wouldn’t text him. She’d feign ignorance. They’d both move on, and this never happened.

She could live with that.

But just as she took out the first earbud, a far too familiar voice sounded over the intercom.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen this is your Captain speaking. Welcome on board Flight 3066 to Washington-Dulles. Our flight time today will be about 90 minutes and our estimated time of arrival in DC  is 9:55 local time. The weather in our route is good with clear sky. It may be a bit bumpy in the beginning, but I have a feeling it will be smooth sailing once we’re on our way.”

Nesta’s world stopped, hanging on every word of the words that he’d likely said hundreds and hundreds of times by now.

“On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing American Airlines, and we’d be happy to provide you with anything you may require to make your flight more enjoyable.”

Shaking her head, Nesta fought the urge to scream. This was so typical. So nightmarishly typical. She had just convinced herself to let him go, to move on.

A one-night stand was a one-night stand, right?

“I’ll check back in with you all closer to landing with an update, but until then sit back and relax. I hope you enjoyed the ride, but if not, well, you have my number.”

Nesta choked.

---

Cassian hummed to himself as he put down the intercom and settled into his seat.

God, even distinctly ruffled, she looked so beautiful this morning. She’d been buried in a book when he’d boarded, unaware, and he’d let her be. Not wanting to push her too fast.

But he just couldn’t help himself.

“Enjoyed?” His First Officer said beside him. “I didn’t know we’d already landed.”

Cassian laughed, flipping his aviators down over his eyes.

“Just a slip of the tongue.”

His co-pilot shook his head, bemused.

In his pocket, he felt his phone buzz once.

He grinned.

“Ready for final checks.”

Chapter Text

Cassian thought he knew bliss. The feeling in his stomach as his bird launched into the sky, the sight of the horizon line, the thrill and the freedom flying gave him.

But the last year had taught him that he didn’t know the half of what bliss truly meant.

Because every day, Nesta Archeron taught him differently.

Even at barely past three in the morning.

He was due to the airport by four thirty, though his commute was much shorter from her apartment than his house past the beltway. He’d tried to slip out quietly, so as not to wake her from the blissful sort of sleep she’d fallen into, as he always did. But she’d had other plans.

“Fuck.”

His breath came hot and heavy against her neck, his fingers digging into her hips, over the silk of the scrap of a nightgown that barely came down to midthigh. Nesta’s head was tilted back as her hips moved rhythmically in his lap, her hands gripping onto his shoulders.   

With his dress pants down around his ankles, his briefs with them, and his white shirt unbuttoned, Cassian tried to keep his focus. In the back of his mind, he imagined this was unbecoming of a pilot of his stature, but ironically on brand for the slut stereotype that the woman currently riding his cock liked to tease him about.

“I’m going to be late, sweetheart,” he said, nipping at her ear. “And it will be all your fault.”

Nesta laughed, a sound that turned into a soft moan as she sunk down on him again.

“I can stop,” She suggested, bright eyes looking at him through fluttering lashes.

Cassian circled an arm around her hips and tugged, seating himself fully within her. Her back arched at the action, her voice choking off into a surprised gasp, her nails digging into his skin. Keeping her still, he replied,

“I don’t think so. Someone needed to be stuffed full this morning, and I’m nothing if not obliging.”

Nesta bit her lip, stifling a whimper as she tried to rock herself against him, to no avail. He grinned, even as she tilted her head forward, to brush their noses together.

“Please,” she said, but it was by no means a plea for him to move. “We both know you fly better after I fuck you.”

With his teeth, he bit at her bottom lip as she set a rhythm once more, and he took the opportunity to push her nightgown further up her hips so he could feel the smooth expanse of her thighs.

“Such a filthy mouth so early in the morning,” he answered. “And here I was thinking I’d leave you tucked in nice and cozy.”

It was how he liked to leave her, most days. She was precious when she slept, especially when she stole his pillow and mumbled her affection for him in a slurred, tired voice as he pressed a kiss to her head in departure. But this morning she’d come out of the bedroom looking like sin incarnate, her touches heated as she kissed him goodbye. He wasn’t quite sure how he found himself with his ass on the couch and her fingers on his belt buckle, but he wasn’t complaining.

“I told you I was high maintenance,” Nesta countered, brows furrowing together in the way that indicated she was close but didn’t want to admit it.

Maintaining an arm around her hips, he used the other to palm at her breasts, relishing their shape. There was a buzzing somewhere – likely one of his countless alarms – but he couldn’t say he cared. He’d make it on time, just as soon as he had her sated.

“Close, baby?” He asked, rocking his hips up to meet her movements. “Need me to help you?”

Nesta scoffed, stubborn until the end, but the sound she let out was delicious as he tugged her nightgown over her shoulders so he could replace his hand with his mouth, his teeth, his fingers skimming downwards until he found that bundle of nerves.

She only lasted a mere moment after that.

And as smug as it made him, he came right after, his head lifting to press against hers as he groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering.

For several seconds, they both caught their breath, Cassian’s hand stroking gently through her hair.

“Gorgeous, Nes,” He praised. “My gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

She flushed, as she always did with such words, and shifted to rest her head in his neck, arms wrapping around him like a koala, a deeply adorable image. Gently, he returned the straps of her nightgown up her arms, rubbing over her back affectionately.

“I’ll be back in two days,” he promised. “Then maybe I’ll pay you back for this little wake up call, hmm?”

Nesta made a sound of approval into his neck, pressing a kiss there, before she slowly pushed to her feet, taking care not to rumple his uniform any further. His pants would need lint rolled again, surely, courtesy of the fluffy creature currently asleep in the bedroom, but it was no matter.

Buttoning his shirt, he got up after her, pulling up his briefs, his pants, and refastening his belt. Nesta watched him from her spot against the island in the kitchen, her eyes trailing unabashedly over his large frame.

God, he was so spoiled.

“Two days,” he repeated, approaching her, “and then I get to take you to meet Bess.”

Nesta sighed, leaning into his touch as he cupped her cheeks. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

Cassian grinned. “Yes ma’am. We make it one year, and I get to take you flying. Properly flying.”

“Technically, you’ve already taken me flying. Several times.”

“Yes, but this time you can sit and look pretty right next to me in the cockpit.”

Nesta shook her head at him, even if her eyes betrayed her amusement. “I don’t think it will be very pretty when I throw up on you.”

A laugh slipped from his chest, and he leaned in to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her lips.

“I promise to be gentle, sweetheart.”

Her long arms wound around his waist, and she pressed close, letting out a long, content sigh.

“I love you,” She said quietly, almost shy.

It was a term that was relatively new for her to both give and receive, something he found so criminal it made him ill. But she offered it to him, of all people, and that was enough to erase every ounce of unhappiness in his body at any given moment.  

“I love you too, Nes.” He replied, squeezing her tight. “So much.”

Nesta shifted, propping her chin on his chest so she could look up at him.

“Fly safe?” She asked, the blue-grey hues of her eyes glimmering in the soft light of the living room.

Cassian smiled, lifting a hand to brush hair from her face, stroking down over her cheeks.

“Always.”

---

Nesta woke under a mountain of blankets, her phone somewhere beneath them, buzzing and buzzing and buzzing.

She groaned, reaching blindly to try and find it, to silence the egregious alarm that would not shut up.

Beside her, Bryaxis sat primly on the mattress, waiting for his breakfast, his bright yellow eyes staring down at her expectantly as she tried to force her brain to work at eight am.

Finally, blessedly, her fingers found the small rectangle underneath a pillow and yanked it free, silencing the sound of ringing bells and squinting as her eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness.

She was not a morning person yet had somehow convinced herself it would be a good idea to ride her boyfriend to oblivion at three fucking am.

It was worth it, but she was paying the price now.

Bryaxis let out a chirp as he butted his head against hers, demanding attention, and she shifted an arm, allowing him to cuddle close as she scrolled through emails and Instagram notifications.

Like clockwork, it was only a few minutes before her phone buzzed, and Cassian’s name appeared at the top of the screen. Clicking on the message, she smiled at the sight of the horizon line, with the simple message,

‘Almost as pretty as you.’

If he was texting, he likely had just landed, which eased the part of her chest that was always just a little tight at the knowledge that his line of work sent him 30,000 feet into the air in a metal cylinder on a regular basis.

Lifting her phone, she snapped a slightly blurry, slightly unhinged photo of her beloved feline’s face, her own mushed beside it, replying,

‘Not as pretty as him.’

She pressed a kiss to his face before forcing herself up and out of bed, unable to stop the smile from tugging at her lips at the delicious ache between her legs.

Moving into the bathroom, she turned on the shower and began brushing her teeth, running through her mental checklist of things she needed to do today. She was working from home, thank fuck, but that didn’t make her any less busy.

She half expected Microsoft Teams to go off at any moment.

Slipping out of her nightgown, she checked her phone once, smiling at the heart reaction she’d received from Cassian before she stepped into the shower, under the warm spray.

It had been a whirlwind of a year. After that fateful meeting at Dulles, followed by the absolutely groundbreaking revelation that she’d been having subpar sex until the moment Cassian Martinez dropped to his knees in her hotel room, she’d been hellbent on their interaction being no more than a meet ugly and a one-night stand.

But then, she’d heard his voice over the intercom of her flight, the teasing lilt of his tone, and decided to be selfish instead.

They’d gone to dinner the very next evening, only to wind up back in her apartment, insatiable for one another.

One night turned into two, turned into a week, a month, six months, and suddenly Cassian had settled into her life as if he was always meant to be there.

He met Gwyn and Emerie, and in turn she met Azriel, who was most often around. Rhys she’d only heard of in passing, though a quick search of his LinkedIn had her wondering if that was for the better.

She hadn’t introduced him to her sisters, not yet. Feyre and Elain had little faith in her ability to hold down a long-term relationship after Tomas, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for their scrutiny, or what he would learn about her the first time they all sat down for dinner. Her sisters were many things, but being able to keep their mouths shut was not one of them.  

Cassian, bless him, had never asked about why her family was such a sore subject, one that was almost never brought up unless he happened to witness the fallout of another argument. He was ‘simply happy to be here,’ as he so often said, and quickly attached himself to her found family instead, more often than not dragging Azriel along with him.

And now, here they were. One year in. One year in, and Nesta now found herself staying at his house on the weekends, only for him to make himself at home at her apartment on his off days during the week. They had keys to each other’s places, and Cassian knew how to take care of Bryaxis better than anyone else, even if he lived off the allergy medication that was now well stocked in her bathroom.

He didn’t care that her brain often worked against her – it had only taken a measly three weeks for her mask to slip and the darkness to hang heavy over her head in a way she couldn’t hide. And he didn’t care that she was almost endlessly grumpy, if not callous, nor that she found it difficult to appear warm and fuzzy.

No, instead he did things like step outside to call her if he was at work, to talk to her when she felt too heavy to get out of bed. Or he would join her, quietly letting himself into her apartment, making sure her cat was fed, and the plants were watered. Then, he’d make dinner, or turn on a movie, or simply crawl in bed beside her, squeezing tight.

It was strange to have a love like this. Strange to have someone meet her halfway.

They bickered – but according to her and his therapist that was normal. Healthy, even. (Maybe she should have started dating men who went to therapy sooner.)

One year in and Nesta was happy. Happy, and hopeful.

So long as he didn’t fucking kill her in his tiny private plane.

Bryaxis meowed at her from the bathroom door – a silent demand she hurry the fuck up and feed him. Shaken from her thoughts, she washed herself quickly before shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a towel.

For a moment, she contemplated sending a photo of a different nature to Cassian – one to complement their morning activities. But he was working, and she supposed it was unbecoming for a pilot to be at attention when a hundred lives were in his hands.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to take some for later.

Before she could dwell on it, her beloved feline companion bellowed again – impatient – and she clicked her tongue, finally giving him the attention he demanded.

“Alright, alright. Food first.”

---

“You’re absolutely fucking whipped, Cassian.”

Cassian laughed into the phone, staring out over the runways from his place against the windows in the crew lounge. One day down, one more to go.

“I’m serious.” Rhys said, probably spinning in some expensive leather chair in an office downtown. “I haven’t even met the woman, but I feel like I know her.”

“You should be so lucky to know her,” Cassian replied, with a grin. “She’s something special, Rhys.”

“I looked her up. Impressive resume. International relations though, so not sure we’d be compatible. Different world views, and all that.”

Cassian shook his head, both endeared and exasperated at the complex political world his brother lived in. “Lucky for you, she’s already compatible with someone else.”

“Azriel says you haven’t met her family yet,” Rhys said. “Does that bother you?”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian shifted from one foot to the other, checking his watch. He had about half an hour before he needed to be anywhere, and if he let him, Rhys would fill up every second of that time.

“I’ve met her found family. That’s all that matters to me.”

“I still think it’s weird.”

“You’re just overprotective.”

“True,” Rhys said with a sigh. “I only want the best for my family.”

Cassian smiled a bit softer, fully aware of that fact. “Well, I have it. Don’t you worry.”

“If you say so-”

“I do.” He interrupted. “And now I have to go. Planes to fly, and all that. Talk soon.”

He hung up before Rhys could complain, instead contenting himself with catching up on all the things Nesta had sent while he was working. Photos of Bryaxis mainly, not that Cassian was complaining. He had always been more of a dog person, but that cat brought out true happiness in her, and so he’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant he had tuna to eat and mouse toys to bat around.

Even if his eyes would turn red if he wasn’t prompt with his allergy medication.

‘How’s the state of the world today, sweetheart?’ he typed out. ‘Should we go to our bunker yet?’

It only took a few seconds for her to reply, chronically attached to technology as she was.

‘Not yet.’

She was busy, it seemed, not that it mattered. She was doing Government Things, meaningful and important.

‘Just tell me when, Nes. I’ve got B’s lifetime supply of catnip already packed right next to your romance novel collection.’

He could see the way her nose would scrunch up as she read his text in his mind, could practically hear the scoff that would slip past her lips. He resisted the urge to call, just to witness it for real.

Jesus, maybe he was whipped.

With a sigh, he reached for his carry on, getting ready to walk to the gate for his next flight. But just as he stepped out of the lounge, Nesta replied, making him stop in his tracks.

It was clear she was naked under her bedsheets, despite the thin one that covered her. A novel was in her hand, and by the lighting of the room, he could tell she’d taken it last evening. It was nothing short of a tease.

‘Did you include this one?’

A smirk tugged at his lips.

‘Maybe. I’ll let you know tomorrow, if you’re good.’

Her reply was instant.

‘Maybe I don’t want to be good.’

She truly was going to be the death of him.

‘Twelve hours, baby.’ He typed. ‘Then we’ll see if you still feel that way.’

And fuck, those hours couldn’t go by fast enough.

---

Cassian had slipped into the apartment at some odd hour of the night, far past the time Nesta had fallen asleep.

She only knew this because she woke with his arm around her waist and the firmness of his chest against her back, the warmth of his skin seeping into her own. He was still asleep, but given his bizarre schedule, would probably be up soon.

Besides, today was the day.

One year.

He was far too excited about it to sleep in.

Still, Nesta would relish in this comfortable quiet while she could, and nestled down into the pillow, letting out a soft, content sound. It was blissful, like this, wrapped up with him on a Saturday morning. It felt too good to be true.

True to his norm, it was only a few minutes before his arm squeezed and he let out a content sigh of his own. She fought a smile as he tugged her impossibly closer, and his chin dipped, his lips finding the juncture of her shoulder.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he said before he lifted his hand to scratch Bryaxis’ ears. “Morning, B.”

The feline was slumped over on his side, perfectly content to snooze, largely ignoring the gesture. Nesta smiled, and rolled in his arms to face him, nuzzling their noses.

“How was work?” She asked, delighted by the feeling of his palm skating up her back.

Cassian hummed, pressing a kiss to her lips, then another, and another. “Just another day at the office. You?”

“Hellish,” she said. “So just another day at the office.”

“Well, lucky for us,” he replied, shifting so their legs could tangle together, “there’s no work today.”

“No,” she affirmed. “Just near certain death.”

He huffed a sleepy laugh, hands skating down to squeeze her hips, lower.

“Bess won’t kill you. But if you’re so worried about it, maybe we should make sure we go out on a high.”

Nesta scoffed, flicking his nose. Cassian lifted his head, pressing a kiss to her fingertip before she could pull it back. Hiking a leg over his hips, she smirked at the length she could feel straining through his briefs.

“Pig,” she said. “Always only thinking about one thing.”

“With you?” Cassian answered, rocking his hips against hers once, a tease. “Absolutely. How lucky I am, obviously, that my girlfriend is the most beautiful, caring, intelligent-”

Nesta shut him up with a kiss, tugging his lip between her teeth and coaxing his mind to focus on other, more pressing things. With a tug, she rolled so he was on top of her, grinning as he let out a soft groan as he settled in the cradle of her hips.

In the background, she heard the familiar thump as Bryaxis hopped off the bed, in search of peace.

“Tell me later,” she ordered. “Fuck me now.”

Cassian laughed, pressing kisses up her neck, nipping at her ear.

“Who says I can’t do both?”

---

“We’re going up in that?” Nesta asked, horrified.

Cassian followed her eyes to where his beloved P-51 sat in the hangar and laughed. It was still early, a little after nine, but he’d wanted to get out to the airport before it got too busy, to maximize their time.

Nesta was dressed in an adorable sweater, the turtleneck collar working hard to cover the series of love bites that he’d covered her in less than two hours ago. If he looked closely enough, he could see one peaking out, just above it. It filled him with a sensation of pure male pride.

“The Mustang? Oh no, sweetheart. She needs a little more work before she’s ready for you. Next time, maybe, if you ask nicely.”

Nesta’s shoulders seemed to ease, just a little, even as her gaze continued to linger on the red paint, the propellers, assessing the plane like at any moment it would come to life and eat her.

“We’re starting off a bit easier, with Bess,” He said, reaching out for her hand and pulling her along, outside to where his Piper was waiting for them.

Her eyes narrowed as she assessed it, and she swallowed, thickly.

“That one isn’t any bigger.”

“Come on, Nes,” He encouraged. “I promise to take good care of you.”

He hadn’t realized how serious she was, when she said she was technically a nervous flyer. She had to go to New York so often, he assumed she was used to it. But he could see the true anxiety in her eyes, as endearing as she was, so he stepped closer to wrap her in his arms.

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his nose. “You trust me?”

Nesta settled her hands on his chest, looking tentatively up at him. “You know I do.”

“Then you know I would never put you in danger,” he replied. “Ever, sweetheart. I’ll always keep you safe.”

Despite herself, a small smile twitched at her lips, as it always did when he promised her these things.

“Okay,” she answered, letting out a breath. “Just… no flips or anything.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss her once, fiercely.

“No flips. I promise.”

---

Nesta was fine.

She was just fine.

She was certainly not freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” she said through gritted teeth as they gained speed over the runway, before lifting off, her stomach dropping through the floor. “Jesus fuck.”

Cassian’s laugh cracked through the headset, his entire demeanor relaxed, not an ounce of stress or tension in his shoulders.

“This is the fun part, sweetheart,” he said. “Hold on tight.”

Nesta squeezed her eyes shut, fingers digging into the leather of her seat. This was how she died. She was sure of it. This tiny death trap was going to drop from the sky at any moment, and they’d be on the front page of the Washington Post or something.

‘Local Lovers Die in Fiery Crash Over the Potomac.’

Hopefully Gwyn would take good care of Bryaxis.

She tried to count her breaths, doing every single breathing exercise she could think of in what would surely make her therapist proud.

The plane tilted forward, and she gasped, toes curling in her boots, until a warm hand reached out, to clasp over her own.

“Open your eyes, Nes. Look.”

She was hesitant at first, cracking open one eye, just enough to see the horizon out in front of her. Then, when she was certain they weren’t about to plummet to their death, she opened the other, blinking as she adjusted to the brightness of the sun.

Vibrant oranges and yellows stretched before her, the autumn leaves putting on their best show for whoever might witness them. The river snaked through the earth in a way Nesta had never seen before, shimmering in the sun.

She didn’t think DC was capable of this kind of beauty.

The hum of the plane faded away, just enough that her chest loosened, allowing her to breathe more normally.

The air was smooth – or at least as smooth as it could be, in a plane so small.

Beside her, Cassian’s face was one of sheer joy – as if this was where he was always meant to be. It was almost as stunning as the scenery.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He asked, with a smile.

Nesta could only nod.

She didn’t know how much time passed, her body slowly calming down, tuning into the sounds of the plane, learning what was normal. Cassian kept it smooth for her, just as he promised he would, each movement graceful – delicate. Nothing like the aggressive fighter pilot tactics she had in her head.

Up here, it was almost peaceful.  There were no obligations. No phone calls from work at egregious hours of the day or night, no texts from her sisters that had just a bit too much passive aggressiveness in the wording.

No heavy clouds of sadness and grief.

Just… quiet.

Blessed, blessed quiet.

And though her hands still clung to her seatbelt, Nesta’s soul seemed to melt at the sensation of it. At the relief.

It was no wonder he loved this so much. With all he had seen and suffered while in the Air Force, and his life before it, this was the perfect place for sanctuary.

It was a serenity so profound she hardly noticed when he started flipping buttons and switches, until he turned to her and said,

“Okay, your turn.”

Nesta blinked, her mind needing a full second to process the words, before she said,

“What?”

Cassian grinned. “Put your hands here. You’re going to fly, sweetheart.”

Shaking her head fiercely, she snapped, “Are you crazy?!”

“She’s steady,” He assured. “We aren’t going anywhere. I’m right here beside you. Put your hands on the controls.”

“Cassian-”

“If Hellen Keller can do it, so can you.”

Nesta sputtered. She was no where near as powerful as Hellen fucking Keller.

“That is a horrible example, and you know it-”

“Nesta,” He said, a bit more seriously. “Fly the plane.”

Letting out a long, shaky breath, Nesta turned her eyes to the incredibly intimidating steering wheel thing in front of her. Cassian’s hands were on it for now, but he was looking at her expectantly. Encouraging, but expectant.

Could she do this?

“You can do this, sweetheart. Trust me, remember?”

Her fingers felt clammy as she forced them to unwrap from the seatbelt, and her arms weighed a thousand pounds as she shifted them forward. She didn’t know why she was agreeing such a thing, only that she did trust him. As crazy as he was.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

Gently, he guided her hands around the control, his touch warm and steady.

“Just hold her like that.”

“Don’t you dare let go,” She ordered, fingers flexing around the leather. “I swear-“

“Breathe, Nes. Don’t think. Just breathe. Breathe, and fly.”

Nesta pursed her lips, stifling a horrified whimper. But she didn’t let go. Instead, she gripped on for dear life, Cassian’s hands firm over hers.

“Good,” he praised after a few moments. “That’s perfect.”

One hand lifted, settling along the back of her neck, squeezing affectionately. She shuddered, unable to resist his touch, and took another steadying breath.

She was flying the plane.

She was flying.

And it felt… It felt powerful.

Like she was completely in charge of her fate, and nothing could interfere in her life ever again. She was the master of everything.

She didn’t know when his other hand lifted until she saw his phone in her periphery, likely snapping a photo.

“So gorgeous,” he said. “My favorite girl in my cockpit, flying. You should see yourself.”

“I don’t want to see it,” she answered. “I probably look green.”

Cassian laughed again, a rich, beautiful sound.

“You’ll always be gorgeous to me, Nes. Always. No matter what color of the rainbow you are.”

She refused to look at him properly, to take her eyes off the sky, less they crash into a fucking bird or surprise mountain or something. But she felt the flush on her cheeks at his words and the affection in her chest.

He let her fly for a few more minutes, occasionally making small adjustments. Nesta was still grateful when he eventually took back the controls, but the smallest part of her already yearned for the chance to do it again, if only to repossess that feeling of power over herself.

The landing, however, was still absolutely horrifying.

Nesta’s entire body remained clenched until the door was open, and Cassian was helping her out onto the tarmac.

He caught her by the waist as she swayed, but then was picking her up, spinning her around.

She’d never been so disoriented in her life.

“You,” he said, pausing only to shove his aviators up onto his head and give her a kiss, “are so exceptional. Do you know that?”

“I don’t think not throwing up counts as exceptional,” she replied, even as her fingers curled around his neck, keeping him close.

“You flew a plane, baby.” He countered, nudging her with his nose. “Do you realize that?”

“You did 99% of the work,” she said. “Does that even count-”

“Yes, Nes. It fucking counts. You’re amazing.”

His excitement killed any protests on her tongue. Because he looked so fucking happy. So pure. So affectionate. It made her feel warm. It made her feel wanted.

“It was… it was pretty amazing.” She admitted. “Even if we almost died.”

Cassian shook his head, grinning so widely it probably hurt.

“You’ll have to forgive me for getting us on the ground safely.”

A smile tugged on her lips, despite herself.

“I love you,” she said. “Do you know that?”

Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers, smile softening into something deeper.

“I know that sweetheart. I love you too.”

Kissing her once more, slower, he added, in a quiet murmur,

“Happy Anniversary.”

Chapter Text

Unknown Number: I have some complaints about the flight. If you want to hear them, I’ll be at Fiola at 7pm.

Then, a minute later,

Unknown Number: If you don’t like Italian, I’m sure there’s a bar somewhere.

After his time in the Air Force, Cassian had learned to trust signs.

“If it feels right, then it’s right.” His therapist would tell him. “Trust yourself. And if that trust is supported by what you view as signs, then that’s great.”

For so long, after everything he’d seen, after a childhood of suffering, of watching violence and pain and poverty, he’d been trying to find those clues everywhere he looked.

In the tiny lizard that stared at him for a full ten seconds before it had crawled over rock and sand, convincing him to push his body forward after that chopper had crashed in the desert.

In the way he’d missed the train that was supposed to take him to New York, and he’d met that physical therapist, who had given him his card, and helped him rehab his leg better than the VA hospital.

In the American Airlines pilot he’d met at one of his many appointments, who gave him the right contacts.

To learn to love the air again, more than he ever had.

Now, Cassian was convinced this was another.

Staring at his phone screen, he fought a smile as the image of her, with her face pinched with anxiety as she contemplated that message she sent, and the follow up, crossed to the front of his mind.

The woman he’d spilled coffee all over, only to fly her plane an hour later, and then to spontaneously run into her at his usual bar, to spend the night learning her body, only to fly her home the next morning.

It sure as hell seemed like the universe was pointing him in a specific direction.

And if it wasn’t, he’d recalibrate his compass to point due North. To Nesta.

With a grin, Cassian unlocked his phone and typed up a reply.

---

Cassian (Pilot): Italian is just fine. Though, if a bar means I get to see you dance again, then I could be swayed. See you at 7. ;)

Nesta tried not to let her leg bounce in anxiety as she sat at the table for two tucked in the corner of the restaurant off Pennsylvania Avenue.

It was… bougie. Probably too bougie.

And, frankly, Nesta didn’t know what the fuck she was doing.

A one-night stand and now a far too expensive dinner date? Jesus Christ.

Maybe, she should have rethought this entirely.

Picking up her phone, she checked the time.

7:08.

Maybe she should call the whole thing off. Maybe he was laughing at her as she sat there alone.

Unlocking her phone, she pulled up the conversation, ready to say just that.

“You must really be trying to kill me in that dress.”

Nesta would assert, later, that she absolutely did not jump.

Instead, she lifted her head, only to short circuit immediately.

Cassian stood smirking down at her, his hair pulled back into either a ponytail or – God save her – a bun. His button up fit him snugly, with the sleeves rolled, and the navy dress pants that, she’d bet, did absolutely everything for his ass.

“If I was going to kill you, it would probably be with a pot of boiling coffee, just to keep it fair.”

Nesta fought the urge to cringe.

Not her best work.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, grinning as he sat across from her. “Red line was delayed so I took a gamble and walked from Metro Center.”

Quirking a brow, Nesta took a sip of the water the waitress had set down when she was seated. “I didn’t take you for a public transportation kind of person.”

“Oh? Think I’m too arrogant to do anything but drive in a city that already has a congestion problem? Please, Nes, give me some credit.”

A flush threatened to work its way onto her cheeks.

He was far too charming. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was true.

Remember, he’s already seen you naked.

“So where do you live, then? On the Red.”

“Maryland. Rockville area. You?”

Nesta hummed, thoughtfully.

“The West End.”

“Fancy. You know, I’m kind of disappointed by your restaurant choice. I was expecting an invite to Le Diplomate.”

Leveling an unimpressed stare at him, Nesta made her distaste plain to see.

“That’s what you are, right? I’ve been thinking about it, with you giving me so much shit about spilling coffee on you before your meeting with some Ambassador.”

“Well, would you look at that? He has brains too.”

Cassian’s grin only grew.

“Only sometimes, sweetheart. I also know my way around LinkedIn.”

Nesta held his gaze for a long moment, then abruptly lifted the wine menu, if only to give her something to do rather than gawk at him and spiral over the fact that he was here and had actually shown up.

“I was… surprised you said yes so quickly. I know it was last minute.”

“You say that like anyone in their right mind could say no to you.”

Nesta scoffed, shaking her head. “You’ll have to do better than flattery to get you what you want, Captain.”

Glancing up, she saw the way his eyes darkened at the title and filed it away for later. Of course being called Captain would turn him on.

Leaning forward in his chair, Cassian’s hand came to rest just next to hers on the table, his long fingers brushing against the tips of her own.

“And what is it you think I want, Ms. Archeron?”

Her fingers lifted, just a little, a small invitation for his to slide between.

“You tell me.”

If he was here for more sex, she could handle that. Would willingly handle that. But there was a not so small part of her hoping… well.

Something in his face softened, and his thumb caught the side of her hand gently, stroking back and forth. Then, he was lifting his own menu, and replying with far too much ease for the absolute chaos she was feeling,

“Right now? Maybe a bottle of Chardonnay and to hear about your day. What do you think?”

---

Nesta wasn’t necessarily one to believe in signs. That was Gwyn’s thing.

What she did put faith in were omens. Red flags. Warning bells.

All evening, she was waiting for one of her tried-and-true tells that would prove to her that this was too good to be true.

Evidence of a shallow personality.

Of egoism.

An ick that she couldn’t look past.

But there wasn’t a single one.

Cassian hadn’t ordered something ridiculously pretentious. Or worse, hadn’t insisted on ordering for the both of them, as her wealthier dates liked to do.

He had table manners. Perfect table manners.

He listened when she talked and asked thoughtful questions. Seemed almost shy, even, when it was his turn to share.

She told him about her experience in college – her studies abroad, and how she got into government. She avoided discussions of her family, naturally, but gave him a small bit of insight into her friends. Her life.

Meanwhile, Cassian told her an expanded version of their conversation the night before – how his military career had ended in an accident, and how this was his second chance. How his brothers were over the moon when he’d told them he’d gotten DC as his hub, but that he was still acclimating, even after over a year.

He wasn’t a Republican; he didn’t have misogynistic notions about how relationships worked.

He didn’t protest when she insisted on splitting the bill.

And, worse, he was perhaps the first person in history to be able to go toe-to-toe with her when it came to banter.

He never got tired.

And now, they were outside of her apartment door.

Nesta had broken her number one rule in a manner of moments when they’d stepped out of that restaurant. Ignoring her rigid, self-imposed requirement of not putting out on the first date (even if that date was already preceded by mind blowing sex), she had asked if he wanted to continue their conversation elsewhere. Elsewhere meaning her apartment. More specifically, while naked in her bed. (Though that part she kept to herself).

It was a Friday, and he didn’t have to work for the next three days.

The possibilities were... significant.

And thus, Nesta was in the position of putting him through one final test. Perhaps the most important of them all.

If he failed this one, she would know for certain this wouldn’t work out.

Normally, it was kept for date three, when someone was just starting to get comfortable.

But now, here they were.

“There’s one thing you should know,” Nesta said as she fished for her keys in her purse.

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” Cassian replied, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched her dig for them.

“You have to pay your respects to the man of the house before we can do anything untoward. If he doesn’t like you, I can’t guarantee a second date.”

She waited for the shock – the discomfort at the idea. But his lips merely tilted upwards, and he said,

“Well first, we don’t have to do anything untoward if you don’t want to. But second, I consider myself very likeable. I’m not worried.”

Damn him.

“If you say so,” She answered, turning the key in the lock and pushing open the door. “But he can be very hard to please.”

Stepping inside, Nesta flicked on the entry way light that illuminated the first few feet of her humble one bedroom. Modern, with blues and greens, and an overabundance of books, it was simple, but it was hers.

Toeing off her shoes, she went straight for the kitchen, knowing full well her child would be very upset at his late dinner.

She heard the door shut behind her and the lock turn as she flipped on the lights in the living room and kitchen.

“Well, aren’t you more handsome in person?”

Peaking over the island as she knelt down for the food bowl, she saw Cassian make eye contact with the fluffy black creature who had gotten up with a large stretch on the back of the couch upon their arrival.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked, brows furrowed at the way he seemed entirely unfazed by her frankly huge cat.

Just how much had he been stalking her?

Cassian grinned at her as he held out a hand to be sniffed.

“You have him as your phone background. Of course, I knew he must be the man of the house. I saw it last night, when you set your alarms”

Oh.

He was far too observant.

Bryaxis sat primly as he inspected the newcomer – his bright eyes intense and judgmental as Cassian stood a respectable distance away, smiling faintly at him.

“Well… his name is Bryaxis,” Nesta answered, stuttering only a little over her words.  “And he’s not a people person.”

“I see,” Cassian replied, before he dared to scratch behind her boy’s ears and under his chin. “Very handsome.”

“He is... picky.” Nesta said cautiously, waiting for her beloved feline to bat his hand or bite him or growl.

Instead – to her horror – Bryaxis gave the pilot a tentative assessment, a moment’s hesitation, before butting his head against his fingers, demanding tribute.

“Like his mother,” Cassian teased, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he continued to rub lovingly over the feline’s fur.

Nesta pursed her lips, watching as this man passed her most difficult and final test with flying colors, before opening a can of wet food with a loud pop, causing Bryaxis to launch off the couch as if his life depended on it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said primly, dropping his food at her feet before she returned from the kitchen to join him in the living room.

Cassian smirked at her, leaning on his hands, which rested where her cat had been sitting. For a moment, they simply regarded each other, before she cleared her throat and asked,

“Do you... want a drink? Or to sit? Or...”

His laugh was soft as he pushed himself upright and approached her, his hands settling gently on her shoulders.

“I want you to relax.” He said. “I’m really happy to just sit and talk some more, Nesta. That’s why I said yes, you know.”

“Is it?” She countered, letting him pull her just a bit closer, enough that she could be enveloped by his cologne and the heat radiating from his body as his hands rubbed down her arms. “You aren’t hoping for anything else?”

He shrugged. “Hoping and expecting are two different things.”

“Who taught you to say all these right answers, I wonder?”

At this, he was a bit bashful.

“Is it that obvious I was raised by women?”

Despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“That isn’t a bad thing, Captain.”

She saw the desire in his eyes again, and his fingers flexed against the fabric of her dress.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, chin dipping so his nose could bump her own. “And I'll be happy to oblige.”

“People pleaser?” Nesta asked, tilting her head back so they could share the same air, the movement of her lips making them brush his own.

He scoffed a laugh.

“Only when that person has occupied every single one of my thoughts all day long.”

“I should hope not. You need focus to fly a plane.”

“Not as much as you think. Besides, that’s what my First Officer is for.”

Nesta shook her head, her hands settling on his chest, toying with the buttons.

“So, you just sit in the cockpit dreaming about women while your subordinate does all the work? And you were so offended when I called you a-”

“Not women,” he interrupted, his arm sliding around her hips to tug her against him. “You.”

A flush spread quickly over her cheeks and down her chest, the low grumble of his voice going straight between her legs.

“You have been all I can think about since I had to leave you in that bed. And for some reason or another, you keep appearing before me like some kind of vision. I couldn’t get you out of my head even if I wanted to.”

“And do you?” Nesta asked. “Want to?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Nesta smirked, pushing up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, delighted at the way his teeth nipped oh so gently as she pulled away, as if he were restraining himself.

“Prove it.”

---

She should have been prepared for this, in retrospect.

Challenging a man like Cassian Martinez to prove how badly he wanted her.

And yet, on the verge of her second orgasm, Nesta found herself beyond words.

How they fit like this on her couch, she would ponder later. Right now, all she could focus on was keeping her balance, with her thighs on either side of his face, her dress bunched up around her hips.

Her entire body trembled, one hand gripping the back, while the other braced against the arm rest, above his head.

The man hadn’t even bothered taking a single item of clothing off himself. Instead, after her challenge his fingers had danced up her thighs between kisses, sliding up beneath her dress, and tugging her underwear down. In an easy movement, he’d tucked them into his back pocket before lifting her and depositing them here.

She could feel the stiff collar of his shirt against her calves, and the only coherent thought she could muster was that she hadn’t vacuumed the cat hair off the cushions, and that he’d likely be coated in it.

But then, he did that thing with his tongue again – that thing that had her near tears last night, and just as close now.

God twice in two days what kind of universe was she living in?

“Fuck,” she swore, head tilting back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

A low sound rumbled from Cassian’s throat – one that indicated just how pleased with himself he was. She’d come way too quickly when he’d started this mission, and he hadn’t given her a moment’s rest before working her back up.

His hands slid up to grip her hips, to dig his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, her ass, and then his teeth nipped gently, just there, and she was over the edge again – her voice cracking with the intensity of it.

Nesta felt him grin against her, before – Christ – he lapped at her again.

The sound that left her was nothing short of a beg for mercy – her hand shooting to dig into the hair at his scalp.

It would kill her, if he made her come like this a third time.

And she needed him to fuck her into the mattress.

“Bedroom,” she ordered, voice nothing but a rasp.

Cassian let her ease back enough so she could see his face, and he smiled lazily up at her.

“Are you sure? I could eat you all night. I saved room for dessert, you know.”

She didn’t doubt him in the slightest. It was clear he enjoyed it enough.

“I need you to fuck me,” Nesta gasped, trying to catch her breath.

“Mm, I love when you’re bossy.”

Scowling, she slid down his chest, letting him sit up. Immediately, her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, desperate to lay eyes on him.

Cassian laughed, reaching up to cup her jaw to kiss her again – slower.

At once, the pace changed, and for several long minutes, they just sat there kissing – swept away in it until she had freed his hair from its tie, her nails lightly scratching over the back of his neck until he practically purred.

It felt deeper than last night. Like this was the precipice of something far more profound than a one-night stand turned weekend escapade.

“Bedroom,” she repeated, after her body had fully come down from its high – lulled into a new kind of contentment by his touch. “Please.”

“Lead the way, sweetheart.” He answered, voice just as soft. “This is your apartment.”

She huffed, but pushed to her feet, keeping hold of his hand as she padded over the carpet and into her true safe space.

As they entered, Bryaxis departed, trotting out towards his cat tree by the windows, likely none too pleased about his night time routine being disrupted.

She’d ask his forgiveness later.

Cassian scanned his eyes over her space with an expression that looked a bit too much like endeared.

“This is just what I expected from you,” he said, sliding his shirt off his shoulders and placing it on the back of the chair to her desk. “Neat, but cozy.”

“Thought about my bedroom a lot during that flight, did you?” She asked, facing him as she took a few steps backwards towards the bed.

He followed, matching her movements until he was directly in front of her.

“During the flight, all this afternoon, through dinner. I had entire mockups in my head, Nes.”

She shook her head, a soft laugh slipping from her before she could help it. Turning around, she reached up to free her hair from its clipped updo, and asked,

“Unzip me?”

He hummed in affirmation, the back of his knuckles dragging up her spine until he found the zipper. He was slow about it. Unhurried. So much so that by the time the fabric fell to the floor, she was practically vibrating.

“Gorgeous, baby,” he murmured, dipping his head to press a kiss to the juncture of her shoulder. “So fucking gorgeous.”

“What did I tell you about flattery?”

He laughed, unclipping her bra, sliding the straps down her arms until she was bare. Turning to face him, she reached for his belt, sliding the leather free before reaching down to grip him through the fabric of his pants.

Cassian swore, head falling against hers, his hips jerking as she palmed him.

“Wound up?” She asked, lips quirking upwards.

“Get on that bed,” he ordered, and she felt her skin flush as she wordlessly obeyed, falling back against the blankets.

Dropping his pants and underwear in one go, he slid over top of her easily, a condom between his fingers. With that hand, he pinned her hands above her head, able to encircle both wrists with his palm.

Running his nose against hers, he teased at her lips, teeth nipping, and Nesta’s hips arched, a distinctly needy sound coming from her throat.

He hummed in answer, his free hand cupping her breast and sliding down to her hip.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, his palm warm and soothing as it brushed over her skin, quieting her mind and narrowing her focus on his words.

Cassian kissed her again, long enough that she felt as though she was sinking into the mattress, blissed.

“You’re going to come for me again,” he said, voice low – hypnotic.

She felt his hand squeeze her breast again, his fingers tweaking the nipple before sliding back down her stomach. Her eyes fluttered, a softer sound slipping from her lips – a whimper, almost, and he was nudging her with his nose again, a silent demand for her attention.

“You’re going to come again,” he repeated. “Give me another, and then I’ll fuck you.”

The fingers around her wrists flexed, just as his others slid between her legs, instantly slick.

Nesta’s legs fell open, her head tilting back into the pillows, lips parting in a silent gasp.

Cassian’s lips found her neck, pressing kisses up to her ear.

“Close your eyes, baby,” he said, just as two fingers curled within her.  “Let me take care of you.”

---

After, they rested in the dim glow of the lamp that Nesta had turned on when she’d risen from the sheets to clean herself up. Comfortably in the crook of Cassian’s arm, she ran her fingers over the various patterns of ink across his skin.

“Tell me about this one,” she said, tracing a smattering of dots and lines along his collarbone and shoulder, the work precise and detailed.

Her body felt heavy – deeply sated – a pleasurable soreness between her legs that had her stretching out like a cat along his side, her legs tangled with his.

“That’s Ursa Minor,” Cassian replied, and lifted a hand to draw her finger to the largest point – a star – “and that’s Polaris – The North Star.”

Nesta hummed. “Do pilots still use the North Star to navigate?”

“Not really,” he said. “There’s plenty of ways to get a heading, and to account for the Earth’s magnetism. True North as a concept gets a bit funky in the air. But I like the romance of it all – the idea that one star could guide you home.”

“It sounds lovely,” she agreed.  “Simple.”

“Even when everything else isn’t,” he offered, smiling softly at her as her eyes flicked up to convey her understanding.

“Is this your theme, then?” She asked, tracing the constellations that were inked on his other side, before trailing down to the compass etched into his left pec. “Navigation?”

“Trust in the universe, more like,” Cassian said. “And its plan. It’s helped to have something to orient me amidst all the chaos. Especially after I left the military. But also, I’m a pilot, Nes. I love a good star chart and compass.”

Nesta laughed, her finger tracing around the ‘N,’ for North. It was beautiful work – something she was sure Emerie would be a huge fan of, if she ever saw it.

“At least, you won’t have to worry about me getting any tattoos with your name,” he added, playful as he settled his hand on top of hers and tapped the letter. “I’ve already got your initial over my heart.”

Nesta scoffed, smacking him playfully as she settled down against him, resting her head over that very spot.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“What?” He asked in mock offense. “The sex wasn’t mind-blowing enough for you to marry me tomorrow? I can try again.”

His hand skated down the knobs of her spine, tickling her lightly in the ribs as he went. She gasped, squirming, until he tugged her to rest fully on top of him. Resting her elbows on either side of his neck, she propped up her chin and assessed him carefully.

Mussed hair was fanned out on her pillows – tangled from how often her hands had been buried in it. Cassian’s expression was that of a man deeply sated, a man who knew he had done well, and was basking in it.

But there was also a comfort – a familiarity she couldn’t quite explain.

A connection that seemed to go beyond words, even in the brief (and absurd) amount of time they’d known each other.

Reaching down, she allowed her finger to trace his brow – the scar that cut through it, which she’d ask about later – down his nose, noting the bumps of past breaks. Cassian tilted his head back to catch the pad of it on his lips, kissing the skin gently before her hand came to rest on his cheek.

He stared up at her with those warm eyes – the ones that somehow made her feel safe and on fire at the same time – before he mirrored her, reaching up to cup her cheek in his large palm.

“You are something else, Nesta Archeron,” he said softly. “What do you have in store for me; I wonder?”

Nesta leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

For the first time since she could remember, she wanted to know the answer. She wanted to keep him, even if she refused to admit it out loud so early on in whatever this was becoming.

Opening her eyes, she leaned down to kiss him gently. Again, and again, and again.

Pulling away, breathless, she murmured,

“I guess you’ll have to trust me and find out.”

---

The first thing Cassian became aware of when he woke was the 15 pounds of fluffy weight draped across his face.

The second was that his eyes burned, and his nose stopped up more than the last time he had the flu.

The third, though, and certainly the most important, was that an arm was across his chest, and he could feel the soft breath of Nesta Archeron against the crook of his neck as she continued to sleep deeply, the warmth of her pressed snugly against his side.

Lifting a hand, Cassian found Bryaxis’ head and rubbed at his cheeks, his ears, before politely trying to push him off his face.

The cat made a sound of discontent – his tail swishing – but blessedly obeyed, with a full paw pressed to his cheek as he shuffled further up the pillow and resettled with a huff.

Sniffling, Cassian made a mental note to go immediately to the nearest pharmacy and buy as many allergy medications as they’d let him.

If this was to be his new normal (and God dammit he’d very well make sure it was) he would need to be prepared.

In his arms, Nesta let out a soft sound, similar to the one her feline had just made, and shifted closer, practically draping herself across his torso.

Immediately, any discomfort he was feeling in his face came second to the satisfaction of watching her eyes squint up at him as she asked,

“What’s wrong...?”

And, even better, the ability to simply pull her closer, and press a kiss to her hair, murmuring,

“Nothing, sweetheart. Go back to sleep, I've got you.”

Nesta hummed, more than happy to obey, and Cassian smiled when her hand shifted, her fingers tracing lightly over the points of the compass on his chest, before settling atop the ink, the tip of one resting right over the ‘N’.

It was the stuff of cheesy romance movies, something he would never live down if anyone found out about it.

But at that moment, Cassian felt sure he’d just been oriented on the path that could lead him to the kind of happiness he never thought he’d deserve.

Closing his eyes and settling further against the pillows, he decided to put his entire faith in the universe that this – all this – was the next step in the right direction.

Chapter Text

Six Months Later

Nesta’s head tipped back against the lip of the bathtub, her eyes closed in contentment.

The jets were warm against her back, the bubbles tickling her skin. The scent of bergamot filled the air, and her nails tapped absently on her wine glass, the condensation from the chilled Chardonnay cool against her fingertips.

Cassian’s house was larger than she expected – a pilot’s salary not one to laugh at, she supposed.

He would be home any minute, according to the flurry of messages that had chimed her phone half an hour prior.

Run yourself a bath, sweetheart. The bubbles you like are in the cabinet. I’m bringing you something sweet.

Normally, she would have protested. But his bathroom was the stuff of dreams – a large jacuzzi tub and a glass shower – with marble tiling and an atmosphere of luxury that seemed at odds with the honest, down-to-earth man she’d come to know these last few months.

Apparently, he never used it to its full advantage. Which meant it was practically all hers.

 She could get used to this, she knew.

An idea that was scary as it was thrilling.

Nesta didn’t like being settled. It was safer always having an escape. Always running and never looking back.

How a man who spent his professional life travelling from place to place changed that, she didn’t know.

Taking a sip of her wine, Nesta let out a sigh, lifting her fingers to brush along the pages of the romance she’d abandoned in favor of simply shutting her eyes.

It was new – a favorite of Gwyn’s already – and she was halfway through. If she wasn’t so drowsy, she could probably finish it in another hour.

But today she was content to do nothing. To simply exist.

It had been a hard week. Brutal hours, and even harsher demons that threatened to weigh her down at the bottom of an ocean of grief.

This week always brought out the worst of it – of the memories she tried her best to avoid, most days.

Of a mother who viewed each passing year as one closer to when Nesta could prove herself worthy. Of a father who more often than not forgot, after her mother passed, how old she was.

Of sisters who never quite knew how to meet her where she was – who kept their distance now, as if she were a fuse set to go off at any moment.

Two years ago, it would have been more than enough reason to get shit faced in some dive bar. To let whoever looked her way take her home and use her how they wished. Last year, she’d spent it curled up with Gwyn and Emerie – cozy at her friend’s apartment while they watched romantic comedies and ate chocolate cake.

This year, things were entirely different.

There were dinner reservations tonight – a third meeting between Cassian and her friends and by far the most formal. They’d met first at Gwyn’s last concert at the Kennedy Center – her pilot more than happy to be her arm candy both at the concert and the bar afterwards. Then, more casually, at a round of bar trivia a few weeks later.

Emerie had come late and had only stayed long enough for a quick drink, and Gwyn was far too invested in maintaining their winning streak to pay much attention to the man who carried the sports section and spent the night with his hand resting comfortably on Nesta’s thigh.

This would be the first time they all sat together formally, for a prolonged amount of time, with the sole focus of talking.

If it were anyone else – if it were Feyre and Elain, namely – she’d be nervous out of her mind.

But she trusted her girls. More importantly, she’d come to trust him. All these weeks, and he’d never made her feel nervous about introducing him to other people, as Tomas had.

She never felt like she had to compensate. To provide a disclaimer or warning ahead of time.

No ‘he’s very focused on his work.’ Or ‘he means well, his tone is just sharp.’

Mainly, ‘It isn’t cruel, how he speaks to me. It is because he cares.’

Nesta had never realized how much work she’d been putting in to maintain appearance until she’d prepared Cassian to meet her friends, trying to assure him that it would be worth his while, that they didn’t have to stay the whole time if he didn’t want to.

‘We can stay as long as you want, baby,’ he’d replied, tilting his head in the way he did when he knew there was a wound driving her thoughts, her actions. ‘I’m just honored to be there.’

In the end, it had been such an easy interaction that by the end of the night, she’d settled comfortably in the crook of his arm after Gwyn’s show, her head on his shoulder, sleepy and cozy in the back booth of their favorite bar. She trusted that he could wrap up their conversations without her supervision, and he did, with promises to see them all again soon, and both of her friend’s numbers in his phone, for emergencies.

‘Take care of our girl,’ She’d heard Emerie say to him that night, as he eased her into the passenger seat of his car – a rare instance in which they’d driven it into the city. ‘I mean it.’

‘It’s an honor,’ Cassian replied – so earnest and dedicated. ‘I promise, I won’t let her down.’

The next morning, she’d woken up to a text in their group chat, which said simply,

‘The Board of Directors approves of the newest acquisition.’

Ever since, it had been easy to settle into a rhythm.

A rhythm that included long, unhurried baths with a cold bottle of wine he’d left for her in the refrigerator and absolutely no responsibilities.

At some point, she must have zoned out enough to not notice when the door opened downstairs, nor the soft footsteps as her partner made his way up into the primary suite.

The feeling of his fingers brushing hair away from her neck had her eyes opening with only the smallest gasp giving away her surprise. Cassian laughed softly, stroking the skin there, his lips pressing to her temple.

“It’s dangerous to fall asleep in a bathtub,” he murmured, smiling against her skin. “You can’t drown on your birthday.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Nesta protested, though a smile of her own tugged at her lips.

“Looked pretty cozy to me,” Cassian said. “And here I thought you’d be up and waiting for your treat.”

At the appeal to her sweet tooth, she sat up, turning her head to look at him in interest. He laughed again – louder and bent down to lift a plate he must have acquired from downstairs. On it was an absolutely perfect slice of chocolate cake.

“I don’t deserve you,” Nesta said, watching as he dipped a fork into the decadent dish and present her a bite. “You spoil me.”

“You deserve everything, sweetheart,” Cassian replied, grinning as she accepted his offering. “Especially today.”

She took another bite, enjoying the way he was clearly transfixed by her mouth – his eyes dark and molten – before she encouraged him to set the plate to the side. Leaning forward, she kissed him long and slow, to show her appreciation.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest – quite possibly her favorite sound in the world, second to Bryaxis’ little chirps when she called his name.

Cupping her cheek, he held her there for a moment, simply relishing in the pleasure of her mouth on his.

“Did you have a good day?” He asked her, brushing loose hair behind her ear.

“I was here for all of it doing nothing,” she replied, leaning into his touch. “So yes, I think so.”

“How long have you been in the tub?” He asked, his eyes scanning appreciatively over her legs.

“Not so long that I’m not going to try and convince you to get in with me.”

Cassian tilted his head, as if to ponder it, and she leaned forward, to capture his lips again, her teeth nipping playfully.

“You make a compelling argument,” he murmured, after several long moments passed in which her thoughts left her in favor of yielding to the way his tongue stroked over hers. “How much time until dinner?”

“Enough,” she said, with a grin. “At least, enough for a few things.”

---

Cassian watched as Nesta stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, pinning up her braided hair in a style that felt so unique to her that he could hardly imagine it on anyone else.

Her dress was simple – beautiful – a navy sweater material that wrapped with a tie. It gave a perfect view of her neck, her collarbones, and the tiny freckle at the top of her left breast that he often fixated on, despite his best efforts.

At some point, he figured he should buy a full-size mirror for the bedroom. Something that she could evaluate her outfit in properly. But she had never complained, and for now was more than content to lean over his bathroom sink and apply her mascara, her fingernail brushing along her eyeliner to straighten it.

There was something fascinating yet serene about watching a woman apply her makeup, Cassian found.

Nesta made it look so effortless that he felt he could watch her do it for hours and never be bored.

“Sorry,” she murmured, feeling his eyes on her. “I’m hurrying, I promise.”

Cassian moved to stand behind her, settling his hands on her waist and leaning down to press a kiss to the juncture of her shoulder.

“You take as long as you want,” he replied. “I just like looking at you.”

He knew, before him, someone else would have said differently. Had taught her to preemptively apologize for tiny things.

Like leaving the bathroom light on while she briefly stepped into the bedroom to grab her clothes or placing the coffee mug in the sink instead of the washing machine. For taking more than a minute to dress in the morning, because she was in the way.

Or, more seriously, promising to make it up to him when she was too tired for sex before bed. Or for not being able to fake a smile to mask when she was tired or in pain.

If he ever met the man responsible for causing Nesta Archeron to compensate for things often out of her control, only one of them would be walking away.

For now, though, he’d offer this. Quiet reassurances and explanations of his behavior that caused the tension to ease from her shoulders.

Like now, when she flashed him a tiny, grateful smile in the mirror.

“I have a gift for you,” he said, content to stroke her sides as she put setting powder on her face.

“A gift?” Nesta asked, reaching for her lipstick. “I thought earlier was my gift. You know, the cake.”

Cassian smirked at the memory. He’d never been more grateful to Rhys for talking him into buying a luxury bathroom.

“Cake is not a gift,” he replied. “It’s a right.”

Nesta huffed, shaking her head fondly.

“I was thinking, if you wanted, you could wear it tonight.”

That got her attention, quirking a brow up at him. “You should have said before I put on this set.”

It took him a beat to figure out what she meant, before he tipped his head back and laughed loudly. Wrapping his arms fully around her waist, he tugged her gently against his chest and kissed her cheek.

“I’m quite happy with this set, actually. You know I’m a gonner for lace.”

“Then what could you have gotten me, I wonder?”

Cassian softened, pressing his lips to her temple. “Do you really have no other guesses?”

Nesta pursed her lips together, hesitant interest in her eyes as if she had an idea, but didn’t actually think he would do something like buy her nice things that didn’t benefit him.

“Close your eyes, baby.”

She held his gaze for a moment, almost nervous, but obeyed with a soft sigh. He kissed her head again before he stepped back and reached into his pocket for the box that had been weighing it down all night. Watching to make sure her eyes were still closed, he opened it and freed the necklace from its confines.

Before he could second guess himself, he closed the box, slipped it back into his pocket, and stepped back up to drape the chain around her neck.

Nesta’s lips parted at the sensation, but she kept her eyes closed as he fastened the clasp.

“Okay, tell me what you think.”

Her lashes fluttered before they opened, and he watched as the surprise flashed across her face.

“Cassian…”

“If you hate it, I have the receipt and told the jeweler to be ready in case we come back so you can pick something else.”

Nesta lifted her hand, to touch the pendent – an eight-pointed star, with diamonds.

“A compass?” She asked, sounding breathless.

“I think technically the North Star, but the point is the same either way.”

“The point?”

Cassian hummed in affirmation. “You give me direction,” he said. “These last few months, you’ve guided me, and you didn’t even know it. I hope this guides you, wherever it is you want to go, sweetheart.”

“You mean it’s not to guide me back to you?” She asked, her lips quirking upwards.

“Well, if it did, I wouldn’t be opposed…”

Nesta laughed, pressing back into him in silent chastisement. Then, she went quiet, assessing the way it rested between her collarbones.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I don’t know how to accept something like this.”

Cassian dipped his head to press kisses on her neck. “Accept it because you deserve it. Because you’re worth it.”

Her breath shuddered, and he saw the way silver lined her lashes. But no tears fell. Instead, her fingers reached down to lace with his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his eyes through the mirror.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he replied. “I hope it’s a good one.”

“It’s perfect,” she answered. “It’s… It’s more than I ever thought…”

“I know,” he murmured, squeezing her tight. “Hopefully, we’ll change that. Yeah? You and me.”

She smiled at him – a true, genuine display of happiness that he wanted to see on her face every single day for the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “You and me.”

---

Nesta’s body still buzzed as she walked up the sidewalk, her arm looped through his.

The necklace felt heavy on her neck – not because it was a burden, but rather because it was perhaps the most expensive gift she’d ever gotten. At least, in recent memory.

The most expensive gift without any expectations, to put it more aptly.

It was stunning. Something she never wanted to take off. Hopefully, she’d never have to.

It was only a little chilly – DC’s permanently turbulent weather favoring her on this day, in an act of mercy. Her sweater dress kept her warm enough, but she had a feeling that the moment she shivered, Cassian’s jacket would be around her shoulders.

He looked as handsome as he always did – relaxed and happy. When he caught her looking, he squeezed her arm and bent over to kiss her temple – an act so reverent that every time, it made her shiver with how profound it felt.

Nesta smiled as they approached the tiny French restaurant that had been chosen for the occasion – quiet, and less popular than the major establishments in the city.

Before they went in, Cassian paused, reaching out to cup her face.

“You look so beautiful,” he said. “And I’m so honored I get to spent today with you.”

Nesta’s breath stole from her lungs as she stared at up at him, at a loss for words.

Cassian leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on her lips.

“Are you ready?”

He always did this. Asked before they entered anywhere if she felt comfortable, and prepared. It didn’t matter who they were meeting, or why, or where. He always asked.

Nesta nodded, pushing up on her toes to kiss him again.

“I’m ready,” she said, straightening the lapels of his jacket.

Lacing their fingers together, he guided her towards the door, holding it open for her and placing a hand on the small of her back as she stepped inside.

It only took a few steps for Emerie to spot them – and Nesta smiled as her friend pushed up from her seat and approached quickly, wrapping her up in a hug.

“There she is!” Emerie declared, leaning back to cup her face. “Our birthday girl.”

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Cassian said, before accepting his own hug.

Gwyn pulled out a chair for her as they approached the table, kissing her cheek as she sat down.

“And right on time,” she chimed in. “Em and I had bets.”

Nesta flushed, but Cassian laughed and said something about respect for the institution of dinner reservations.

For a moment, she could only sit and watch. Watch, as Emerie immediately launched into a conversation with Cassian about the tattoo artist he’d recommended – picking up a thread of conversation from their last meeting.

She watched as he complemented Gwyn’s earrings – handmade, her latest hobby. She’d mentioned it only once – showing him a picture the other night on the couch. He’d remembered.

It was lighthearted. Loving. Something foreign yet so relieving to be a part of.

Under the table, Cassian’s hand settled on her knee, as if it always belonged there.

He squeezed, his thumb brushing over her skin, and gave her a private smile as the waiter came for their drink orders.

“You were right, Cassian,” Emerie suddenly said, and Nesta turned her head to see her friend staring down at her chest. At the necklace. “It is more beautiful in person.”

Nesta’s brows lifted, and Gwyn gave her a wink.

The insinuation was monumental. That he’d asked their opinion – cared enough to make sure it was just right.

“Our girl deserves the best,” Cassian replied. “Doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Gwyn affirmed, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Happy birthday, Nesta.”

Nesta’s throat tightened, so moved by the affection.

By the safety.

This was what it felt like, she realized. To be loved unconditionally.

This was what it felt like to be home.  

Chapter Text

The thing about finding the love of your life was that nothing ever seemed quite good enough.

The desire to shower them with all the riches in the world, all the affection, and other good things, was often overwhelming, to the point that any gesture felt like it was too small.

And when that gesture involved a ring, well, it was practically hopeless.

Cassian Martinez had been experiencing this dilemma for two years, three months, and six days.

The ring part of it had been complicating things for approximately four months and two days.

Because when it came to Nesta Archeron, he refused to spare any expense. He’d had it custom designed from a shop in Paris and happily paid every penny.

But the question of how to ask, of how to present such a gift in a way that properly conveyed everything he felt for this miraculous woman, was perhaps the most difficult challenge of his life.

‘You’re overthinking it,’ Rhys had said multiple times now, over the phone.

‘Nesta loves everything you do, you know that,’ Gwyn had offered, when he had taken both her and Emerie out to a lunch in which he politely asked for permission to propose to their best friend.

And yet, their confidence in him was not something he reciprocated. He had made her smile and laugh plenty of times, but this… This had to be perfect.

Especially after this absolute hellscape of a year.

Pushing open the front door of his house, he smiled at the sound of the TV wafting in from the living room.

More Love Island, if he had to guess.

Toeing off his shoes, he padded towards the sound, anxious to lay eyes on his little family. Naturally, he found them curled up together on the couch, eyes fixated on the screen as someone was booted off the island in some kind of sleep-deprived dramatic turmoil.

“Hey baby,” he said, reaching down over the back of it to press a kiss to her head. “How was your day?”

“The same as all the others for the last five months,” Nesta replied, lifting her head to smile ruefully at him. “Unemployed with no prospects yet kept entertained by quality television.”

 Cassian hummed.

“I still think you should give writing a real shot, Nes. You’re good at it.”

Nesta sighed, rolling over to her back to stare up at the ceiling, disturbing the cat that had been napping at her side. She, like many others with a moral conscience, had been resigned upon the transition of the new Administration. Except the chaos had been greater than expected, and there were no new postings anywhere.

The field of international relations, she claimed, was both on fire and underwater at the same time.

As a result (though he also liked to think it was just because it was time), she had moved in here, with Bryaxis.

“Writing requires having enough in savings to sit inside for months with the pipe dream of being picked up by an agent.”

Cassian leaned against the island in the kitchen and assessed her with a raised eyebrow.

After all, he didn’t make six figures for nothing.

“Don’t give me that look,” Nesta sighed, pushing herself upright. “I can’t keep mooching off you forever.”

“Have you considered,” Cassian replied, “that I like spending money on you. Besides, it’s not mooching if it’s a result of God-tier bullshit.”

Nesta scowled, though there wasn’t any heat to it. Instead, her fingers reached up, to brush over the necklace he’d gotten her for the first birthday they’d spent together. She hadn’t taken it off since, much to his delight.

“I suppose.” She grumbled. “Still, I can’t be in limbo forever.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, turning towards the refrigerator to grab the chilled bottle of wine that was left over from last night. “But you’re allowed to take some time. Lots of people are, and I won’t let anything happen to you in the meantime.”

He heard Nesta’s feet as she got up and walked into the kitchen a moment before her arms slid around his waist. Resting her head between his shoulder blades, she sighed softly.

"I know," she said. "I'm just... stubborn."

And God, he loved her for it. 

“Have you considered my idea?” He asked, turning to offer her a glass.

Nesta hummed.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get away.”

“New York City is hardly away,” Cassian said, “but we could get a nice hotel, go to dinner… I have to fly back anyway, so it would be an easy commute”

(And, if he got his head on straight, maybe they could finally get engaged.)

“It does sound nice,” she murmured. “I’d have to see if Gwyn can watch the baby.”

“Azriel would also happily watch the baby.”

It was true. His brother was nothing short of enamored with Bryaxis, after he met him for the first time when moving Nesta in. Bryaxis, in turn, had accepted him as adequate.

“Come on,” he coaxed, reaching down to kiss her. “We could go dancing at that bar you like.”

“That bar you like.”

He grinned, unashamed. “It has sentimental value.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but he knew he’d won her over, by the subtle spark in her eyes.

“Fine. But we’re entering the Broadway lotteries.”

---

“Does it freak you out?” She asked several days later, when they were both comfortably seated in first class. “Not flying the plane?”

Cassian hummed, lacing their fingers together. “Yes and no. It’s more comforting to know that I could take over and fly it, if I needed to.”

Nesta’s expression suggested that she did not find that comforting, and he leaned forward, to kiss her brow.

“Remember the statistics, sweetheart,” he said. “How safe we are in this Airbus.”

She grumbled, her hand tightening around his in a vice-grip as they took off down the runway.

His grumpy girl, far too cute, even while dreadfully anxious.

As they lifted off into the air, Cassian took a moment to assess his own anxieties – the hope that this all went well.

That it was everything she deserved, and more.

However, four hours later, any plans he was supposed to have had were gone, replaced instead by the general bliss of late-afternoon sex.

“God,” he sighed, his fingers laced into her hair. “Don’t stop, baby.”

Nesta hummed around his cock, her head bobbing lazily from her position on her knees at the foot of the bed. His own feet were still on the floor, though he had been pushed onto his back when he’d started this whole thing several minutes earlier, tugging her into his lap and kissing her until the post-travel tension eased from her shoulders.

Now, she was taking him for all he was worth, knowing fully well he couldn’t resist her mouth.

Curling his toes, he rocked his hips up gently, a low sound rumbling from his chest as her tongue teased at his head.

There were dinner reservations, he knew. And they had, in fact, won the Broadway lottery (for what show, he didn’t remember). Which meant there was a time limit.

If only he actually knew what time it was.

“Nesta,” he groaned, his other hand joining his first to tug gently at her scalp. “If you don’t stop soon, I won’t be able to fuck you until later.”

She laughed, releasing him before pressing a kiss down his shaft. Her eyes flashed up to meet his, as she replied,

“It’s your choice, baby. Where do you want to come?”

What a question.

She raised an eyebrow, slowly stroking him as he debated it. The pause gave him enough time to come back from the precipice, to regain his bearings. Lacing his fingers through her hair, he guided her lips back down to the tip of him.

“Let me fuck this mouth some more, and I’ll let you know.”

Her grin was nothing short of feline as she parted her lips, and let him thrust upwards, setting a rhythm as he held her head in place.

As she worked, he began to think of all the ways he could make her come, in the time they had.

His fingers first, maybe. Then his tongue. 

Maybe he'd leave her worked up, and tease her throughout the show. 

The idea of running out of time suddenly had a bit more appeal to it. 

But really, how important were dinner reservations?

---

Whether it was the post-sex bliss or the general frenzy of making a 6:15 pm dinner reservation and 8pm show, but Cassian did not, in fact, find an opening to propose to the love of his life that night.

Nesta was full of energy – surprising, given the fact that she couldn’t walk for a good twenty minutes after earlier. But no, instead she was regaling him with lots of facts about the show they were seeing through dinner and then, afterwards, they’d gotten dessert.

Now, they were walking along the busy streets, hand in hand.

And fuck, she was so beautiful.

So beautiful that he missed her question entirely.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He blinked, staring at her, watching her lips move but not entirely processing the words.

She grinned and nudged him.

“Cass.”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Yeah, it was good.”

“You have no idea what it was about, do you?”

“Not at all,” he answered, honestly. “But I knew you were going to tell me afterwards anyway.”

Nesta scoffed, but her amusement was plain on her face.

They paused, at an intersection. And for a moment – just a moment – he thought he might as well get down on one knee right here, because she had never looked more perfect, smiling at him like this.

But then, he was jostled as the lights changed, and they were walking again, closer and closer to the hotel.

“So, when we get back, I’ll put the movie on.” She was saying, eyes bright as she scanned her surroundings, always alert and aware of the world around her.

“The movie?”

“Death Becomes Her was a movie first, remember?”

“Oh right.”

“We’re going to watch it, and you’re going to pay attention.”

Cassian grinned.

“I always pay attention when we watch movies.”

Nesta shook her head. “Name one movie where you haven’t tried to put your hand under my clothes less than halfway through.”

"Hey, there is nothing sexy about WWII--"

"We aren't counting your hyper fixation on WWII movies."

He laughed, softly. That was fair enough. 

“Okay well I promise I’ll be good. Besides, you're the one who falls asleep most of the time.”

She smiled as they turned into the hotel lobby, as if she knew he was full of shit.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

As they moved towards the elevators, Cassian tried to relax. The moment would come. He knew it.

He just had to wait.

---

The moment didn’t come.

At least, not in some grand, spectacular way that he was hoping for.

On Saturday, they spent a decent amount of the morning in bed, tangled beneath the sheets, enjoying the luxury suite he had booked (‘just as a treat,’ he’d said).

Then, Nesta wanted to see the New York Public Library, which she had apparently never been to, which led to an impromptu tour around to some bookshops, before making a pilgrimage to Dinosaur the Pigeon (which he had to admit was impressive up close).

Halfway through the adventure, it began pouring down rain, which led them to the Museum of Modern Art, which she had also, apparently never been to.

‘Diplomats don’t have much time for excursions between Security Council meetings,’ She’d said, when he teased her for her lack of experience, despite spending years shuttling back and forth between Washington and the United Nations building.

It culminated in another dinner, this time far nicer than the night before – with white table clothes and bottles of wine that cost more than the hotel room itself.

This seemed like the moment, if there ever was one.

“Are you alright?” Nesta asked him, her foot brushing his under the table.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he said, smiling softly at her as she eyed him over her wine glass.

“It’s just,” she began, then stopped, reaching up to toy with the necklace at her throat, “you seem anxious about something. I can’t place it.”

Reaching out, he held up his hand, coaxing her own to leave her neck to lace their fingers together. Gently, he squeezed.

“Not anxious,” he answered. “I promise. Jittery, maybe, just because I get excited to take you out. I was hoping for a weekend like this for a long time.”

“Yeah?” She asked, and he watched those small tendrils of anxiety in her eyes fade away, her shoulders relaxing at the reassurance.

“Yeah,” he answered. “And maybe, also, because—”

“Nesta Archeron as I live and breathe.”

The distinctly male voice shattered whatever moment was happening here, and suddenly Nesta was perking up, her armor falling perfectly into place in less than a second. He didn’t often see her in ‘work mode’ with her serious faces and perfect posture, but it was a stark difference from the softness she allowed around him.

“Isaac Hale,” Nesta replied, and for a moment, he thought she’d pull away.

Instead, her fingers laced further with his.

“I heard you took the fork in the road, or whatever they’re calling it these days,” the man – Isaac – said, with a wolfish grin. “Couldn’t stomach the war crimes any longer?”

Nesta offered him a tight-lipped smile in return.

“You know what they say. Someone has to try and fix the system from within.”

“And you know what else they say, about low level bureaucrats who couldn’t make a dent in all the shit if they tried. Well, at least you’re free now. I’m surprised you haven’t been picked up by some large firm.”

Cassian cleared his throat, if only because he didn’t quite like the judgement in this man’s eyes, and he knew, with certainty, that he had at least half a foot on him.

“Oh, Isaac, this is my partner, Cassian.”

“You a fed too?” Isaac asked, reaching out a hand.

Cassian stood, accepting it in his best firm handshake – one that conveyed all his strength. He took a little too much pleasure in looking down at him. 

Pure male preening, he knew. But he just didn’t like how this Isaac Hale was looking at her.

“Pilot, actually.”

“A pilot,” Isaac said, brows raising. “That’s not like you, Nesta. Though, we all know you left the dating pool of your peers behind after breaking Mandray’s heart.”

“I’m sure his heart is fine,” Nesta replied, as Cassian sat back down. “And how is your wife?”

“Expecting our third, if you can believe it. Finally decided to stop working and stay home. The firm pays me enough anyway, you know.”

Nesta hummed, though her disproval was clear.

“Well, it was good to see you.”

A dismissal – short and to the point.

God he loved her.

“I’ll tell Mandray I saw you. He was wondering what you were up to, last we spoke. He’s still in, you know. The Administration kept him around.”

And there – he saw it. The flicker of pain in her expression. One so miniscule he’d only caught it because he’d been staring at her face for the better part of the last two years.

This was the source of her wound.

“Have a wonderful evening,” Cassian said, with a fake grin, and he waited until the man walked away before he turned his head just in time to see Nesta take a long sip of her wine.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“About what?” He asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Are you alright, though?”

Nesta smiled at him – still strained, though it was softening around the edges.

“Just old mortal enemies from school, nothing more. A few of us went into State together, for various purposes. Others couldn’t stomach it, and it caused a bit of a divide. Not that working as a consultant for the government is much better.”

“And this Tomas?”

“Isaac and Tomas were roommates, for a long time,” she supplied. “Tomas and I… well.”

“You never mentioned,” he said, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand, in an attempt to convey that he wasn’t angry – just curious.

At this, in the safety of being alone at their relatively private table, Nesta’s pain was a bit more transparent.

“I didn’t have to,” she said softly, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You picked up on it all well enough.”

It confirmed the truth for him – and made his blood boil.

“Sorry,” she followed up. “We can forget about it. Just a shadow of the past, that’s all. It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” he answered, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Everything about you matters to me. As long as you’re safe and okay, that’s all I care about.”

He felt her begin to ease, after a moment, and he smiled at her as she settled herself back into the same rhythm they’d had before their interruption.

There was more to unpack – he could see her fighting the urge to tell him more, perhaps to explain or justify what had just happened, to soothe any of his own irritation. And that just wouldn't do. 

(His therapist would be proud of his analysis, he thought.)

“I love you,” he said, kissing her hand again. “And you are so damn beautiful when you wear that slay-my-enemies look on your face.”

She huffed, but a smile tugged on her lips all the same.

“Is that what you thought when we met?”

“Absolutely.” Cassian replied. “I almost wanted to rile you up more, just to witness more of it.”

It earned him a genuine laugh then, as she shook her head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Can you blame me? It’s a miracle more people don’t drop to their knees when you pass by.”

“Trying to get somewhere through flattery, Captain?”

As she said the words, her leg brushed against his own.

He pushed back, softly, offering her that distraction – that grounding to remind her that they were okay. More than okay.  

“Flattery has gotten me pretty far, Miss Archeron.”

A slow, feline smile spread across her face. Lifting her wine back up to her lips, she hummed, thoughtfully.

“So, it has.”

It sparked warm desire in the pit of his stomach – as her existence so often did.

The moment passed when their waiter appeared, to take their order, though her affection was still bright in her eyes.

"After this," she said, while they were waiting for their entrees. "How about that dancing you suggested?"

"If this restaurant wasn't so nice, I'd say let's go right now," He answered, already picturing the unique vision of Nesta Archeron on a dance floor. 

And though the overhanging objective remained unfulfilled, it could wait, just a little while longer.

Now, more importantly, he was focused on reminding this woman just how deeply she was loved.

And how deeply devoted he was to her happiness.

---

Nesta knew something was up from the moment he suggested this trip.

For months now, Cassian had been trying to find ways to bring her out of the general funk of having an entire career path shattered in a matter of days.

It was a valiant effort, and one that she loved him dearly for.

Without him, she very well could have been back where she was right after school – drunk every night, making it to the office each morning by the skin of her teeth.  

But this weekend had been different.

There was something else driving him.

Something she didn’t quite want to put a name to, in case she was wrong.

So, she kept waiting. And waiting.

And waiting.

But the moment never came.

Instead, between the Broadway shows, the spontaneous museums, far too expensive food and two hours of dancing at that old dive bar, they ended up doing something far deeper.

Seeing Isaac Hale in the flesh had been jarring – and she knew he'd brought up him as a weapon. Because she knew that it had been him to clean up Tomas Mandray’s bloody face after she’d taken her nails to it in an attempt to save her own life.

And though Cassian was an expert at bringing her out of her own head, some monsters couldn’t be so easily silenced.

So, she told him.

After they'd returned from the bar, comfortable and sated in his arms beneath the blankets, she filled in all the gaps, her fingers tracing anxiously over his tattoos as the words left her.

She had never told anyone the whole story. Not Gwyn or Emerie, or him, in the two years they’d been together.

It took the better part of an hour, and by the time she was finished, he held her so tightly that she could feel the way he trembled, and the kisses he pressed to her skin were so overwhelmingly reverent that her tears came unbidden.

In the morning, though, she felt so much lighter, even if she still didn’t have the answers to what had made Cassian so jittery for the last forty-eight hours. He’d cradled her to his chest all night, keeping her warm and safe, and woke her gently before he left for the airport, with kisses and promises for coffee when she arrived a little later.  

Now, she assumed whatever it was had passed, and filed it away for later.  

After all, he was about to fly a plane (one that she was going to be on), and they would only have a few moments together at the airport before he would do another few days of work.

The world buzzed around her as she stood at the coffee bar, waiting on their orders. JFK was always crazy on a Sunday, but it seemed particularly lively that morning, much to her chagrin.

Cassian had ordered for them, but they had switched off while he took a call, and she tapped her nails lightly against the wood as she listened to name after name.

“For Nesta!”

In what felt automatic, she reached for the cup, glancing down briefly at it, searching for the ‘N’ that would confirm it was hers.  

When she wasn’t met with the letters she was expecting, she began,

“Wait, excuse me, I don’t think this is—”

Her voice trailed off as she twisted the cup around fully, to read the words:

‘If I promise not to spill this on you, will you marry me?’

Nesta blinked, her mind stalling, coming to a complete halt, before picking back up again. Whirling around, she searched for him, eyes darting around until they landed on where he was a few feet in front of her, on one fucking knee.

“Not the most romantic,” he said, and his nerves were apparent in his eyes, even if he was smiling, “but fitting, I think.”

By some magic, she was able to break through the shock of it all, to let out a surprised laugh.

“You’re serious?”

“Very,” he replied. “What do you say, Nes? Will you have me?”

It was quite a scene, she knew. He was dressed in uniform, after all, with the wings on his crisp white shirt and cap tucked under his arm. And there, she finally saw it, the ring within the small box in his hands.

Her breath left her all at once at the sight of it.

“Are you sure?” She whispered. “Are you—”

“If I say I was sure from day one, will you hit me?” He asked. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I’ve never been more sure. You are it for me, Nesta. You have been from the start. I don’t want to do any of this without you, it's not worth it. I love you endlessly, on your good days and bad days and mundane days. I love you when you're grumpy and when you're sleepy and when you're so excited you can't stay still. And I want to love you until you're old and wrinkly and can't get out of bed because your bones ache.”

Her smile grew before she could help it.

“You ridiculous man. You were trying all weekend, weren’t you?”

He laughed, seemingly unbothered by the small crowd that had gathered. “Well, we were busy.”

She stepped forward, into his space, to assess the ring closer. She knew, immediately, that he had probably spent an ungodly amount of money on it. Not that she cared about a price tag. He could have given her something plastic, and she would have been at a loss for words. 

“If you hate it I can—”

“Shut up and put it on my finger, Cassian.”

His smile widened into a grin.

“You know you have to say yes or no—”

“Yes! Yes. Of course, yes. I can’t believe you.”

And then, the metal band was around her left ring finger, and she was in his arms, off her feet.

Around her, people were clapping -- cheering, even. Never did she think she'd be a public proposal person, but here she was. Overjoyed and overwhelmed. 

The kiss she pressed to his lips felt surprisingly ordinary for the importance of the moment, but it was perfect.

It was familiar, and safe, and made her feel lighter than air.

“I love you,” she said, cupping his face, as their small audience slowly started to disperse. “Mr. Archeron.”

“I love you,” he replied, brushing his nose against hers. “Mrs. Martinez.”

She snorted, unable to help it.

“We’ll talk about it.”

He kept her close as she settled back down onto her feet. With his arm around her waist, they made their way towards the gate, still aware of the fact that he had a plane to fly, after it all.

It was only when they got there that they realized they’d forgotten their coffee all together. 

---

Half an hour later, the newly engaged Nesta Archeron sat far too comfortably in first class, responding to text messages from her loved ones as they reacted to her news.

Of course, Emerie and Gwyn already knew.

Azriel too, if his reactions in their group chat were anything to go by.

Feeling brave, she even sent a photo to Elain and Feyre, the two of them having met Cassian briefly over the holidays.

She had a feeling that her notifications would be blowing up by the time they landed in two hours or so.

“Ladies and gentlemen this is your Captain speaking. On behalf of American Airlines, we’d like to welcome you to our flight to Washington Reagan this morning. It should be a smooth flight, a quick ninety minutes once we push back from the gate.”

Nesta smiled at the familiar tone of Cassian’s voice. She’d heard it dozens of times by now. At this point, she hated flying with anyone else, if only because it wouldn’t be him keeping them all safe.

“If I may take a moment, we have a very special guest with us today. You may have noticed the strikingly beautiful woman seated in 1B as you all made your way on board. I’m delighted to inform you all that she has just graciously agreed to be my wife. If you get the chance, give her some love if you see her, she’s the most deserving of it.”

Cheeks flushing, Nesta fought the urge to duck her head as the passengers clapped and cheered. Instead, she craned her head so she could see up the aisle, to where the door to the cockpit was still open.

There, Cassian had turned, and smiled brightly at her, blowing her a kiss.

Rolling her eyes, she smiled back at him, shaking her head fondly before she settled back in her chair, and took a deep breath.

For perhaps the first time, everything felt right. Felt good.

The future was bright ahead, and she couldn’t wait to see where it took her.

Took them. 

Chapter Text

The nightmare came out of nowhere, as they so often did.

It was nothing unusual – just memory warped with all the horrors his mind could conjure.

Still, as well-practiced as he was in these kinds of things, it did send Cassian bolting upright in bed, his breath coming too fast, and his heart fighting to escape from his ribcage.

Pushing his hair out of his face, he scanned his eyes around the familiar scene of his bedroom, heard the soft sound of the fan above his head, and reminded himself that those blades were not the ones that had almost killed him however long ago it had been. 

Letting out a long sigh, he let the cool relief settle over him, the adrenaline making his skin tingle.

It had been months since his last one, and he silently worked through the coping strategies in his head that were well practiced by now. Connecting with what he could see – his dresser – and hear – fan – what he could smell – laundry detergent – and what he could feel –

A soft hand slid up his spine, the metal of a ring band just a little rough as long fingers reached his shoulder and squeezed.

“Cass?”

The tension whooshed out of him in an instant, soothed as the sheets rustled and Nesta pushed herself up behind him.

“Sorry,” he breathed, reaching his own hand back to lace their fingers. “Sorry, baby. Just a bad dream. I’m alright.”

Nesta hummed in concern, and her touch was blessedly familiar as her arms came to drape over his shoulders, and he felt her bare skin as she pressed into his back.

“Is it tomorrow?” She asked. “You usually get them when you’re stressed.”

Holding onto her hand, which now rested over his heart, Cassian stroked the skin, the sensation grounding him better than most of the usual coping techniques he had tried while single.

“Not at all,” he replied, turning his head to meet her eyes, and offering a tight smile. “You think I’m stressed about getting to show you off?”

“It’s objectively a stressful event, to have our families meet for the first time.”

Cassian hummed – knowing full well that was what kept her up at night. Still, it was a fair question to ask.

“Tomorrow will be fine,” he said, shifting an arm back so he could tug her to his front and hold her in his arms. “Just old memories for me, I think.”

Nesta frowned, but was well versed, by now, at the inconvenient ways trauma could present itself. They were both too familiar.

Nestling her head under his chin, she let out a soft sigh as he leaned back against the pillows, happy to let him squeeze her tight against his chest. Gently, she stroked over the tattoos on his collarbone, a rote movement that already had drowsiness seeping back into his mind.

“I have you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss into his skin. “For better or worse.”

Cassian smiled into her hair, eternally grateful for this woman. At his feet, he heard the mattress dip and a sound that suggested a slightly overweight cat was joining them on the bed. A beat later, that heaviness was on his legs, Bryaxis likely taking their impromptu snuggling as opportunity to take his mother’s pillow.

“Thank God for that,” he replied, letting out a long breath as the terror receded to the edges of his consciousness.

“Can you go back to sleep?” Nesta asked, tilting her head up to peek at him. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Even in the dim light, he could see the blue of her eyes.

Leaning down, he kissed her softly, pulling the blankets back up over her shoulders.

“It’s a great day tomorrow,” he answered, tucking her head back into the crook of his shoulder. “And yeah, I think so. Just need a minute.”

Nesta huffed, softly, seemingly already dozing back off. It convinced him to do the same, feeling comfortable and secure, even if his scars ached, just a little.

Before he could drift off, she murmured a quiet, “love you,” as if she wanted to ease that pain too.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

She listened, if only because she was already halfway there. After all, tomorrow was a big day, and they both would need their rest.

After all, it wasn’t every day you got to present the world’s most beautiful woman to the people you loved most and declare for all to see that she was yours and you were hers.

For better or worse.

---

Nesta let Cassian sleep in that morning, knowing full well that he would try and assert that he was fine, even if he’d been forced awake at some absurd hour.

It hadn’t seemed to be one of the bad ones – the moments in which she’d have to talk through his strategies with him, to remind him he was here, in their house, and not bleeding out in the desert. On those days, they often sat up together for the rest of the night, until she could coax him back to sleep with her hands in his hair, stroking gently until he soothed.

Today, though, it seemed some extra sleep would do the trick, even if, for him, that meant getting up at eight am instead of six.

On her end, she would have been awake at dawn regardless with how anxious she was.

It was going to be an interesting day.

Cassian was confident it would be fine, and maybe he was right. But there was a reason she only saw her family briefly on holidays, and why she hadn’t integrated him fully into that battle.

She loved her sisters, but there was no reason to pretend their relationship was anything other than a patchwork of somewhat successful attempts to heal years of toxicity. And her father, well… If he showed up, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Feyre and Elain had landed successfully at DCA yesterday, and that was a victory. Cassian had even gotten them first class. 

On his end, she had met – and adored – Azriel. But he had admitted openly that the rest of his family could be a lot. It had only taken a brief scroll through LinkedIn for her to come to that conclusion herself.

But Rhysand had apparently insisted on throwing them this engagement party – renting out some rooftop of a newer hotel downtown. Only the best for his brother, or so he said.

She knew perfectly well that Cassian didn’t desire anything so luxurious and neither did she, necessarily. Still, the man couldn’t be swayed.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Nesta watched the coffee brew with bleary eyes, her mind already too awake to go back to bed, where her two favorite men were curled up under the blankets.

When Bryaxis had opted to remain in bed with Cassian when she rose in the mornings, instead of following her downstairs, she didn’t know. But she was only a little jealous.

Glancing down at her phone, she opened a text from Emerie, who had likely done something absurd like run ten miles on the Mall that morning as the sun came up.

Em: Gwyn and I will be over around 3. Are you still waffling on the dress?

Nesta: I realize brides are supposed to wear white, it just feels weird.

Em: You could always wear that red dress that almost killed Cassian at Gwyn’s last concert.

It was tempting. She’d put that dress on and he’d almost caused a scene in the few minutes they were allowed back in the dressing rooms to see Gwyn after her show.

But rationally, she knew there was a perfectly appropriate white dress in her closet, still in a garment bag. And, even more rationally, she knew she’d spent too much money on it for it to be ignored.

Her phone pinged again, and her lips twitched upwards just a little as she read the message from her soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Az: Open the door for your DoorDasher. There are donuts.

She huffed, shaking her head.

Nesta: Should I even ask why?

Az: Stress management, Cass calls it.

She heard the doorbell a moment later and shuffled over to retrieve her offerings. Duck Donuts, no small prize.

Nesta: I appreciate you.

The sound was surely going to wake the men of the house, and she’d only made it back to the kitchen for a moment before she heard the creak on the stairs, and the bell of Bryaxis’ collar as they made their appearance.

Her beloved feline rubbed against her legs a moment before warm arms encircled her waist, and Cassian dropped his chin onto her shoulder, distinctly still sleepy.

“Morning,” he mumbled, squeezing her tight as his hands found their way under her (his) T-shirt. “You smell good.”

“That’s the coffee.”

“Mm, no. All you. Donuts come?”

“They may have,” Nesta answered, leaning back against his chest, enjoying the sensation of his touch. “A Xanax might work better.”

Cassian laughed, pressing kisses to her neck. “We have those too. It’s going to be fine, sweetheart.”

Pulling away, he reached up to retrieve two mugs from the cabinet, going through the rote motions of pouring them each a cup.

“Besides,” he continued, opening the donut box. “We can bail.”

“No,” Nesta said, appreciating how attractive he looked in nothing but sweats and a messy bun. His eyes were clear, and he seemed chipper enough, suggesting his nightmare from before hadn’t lingered. “Everyone should meet everyone at some point.”

“True. Any news from your dad?”

“Nope.”

Cassian frowned, just a little, but didn’t press. He never did. Her father’s role in this wedding remained a large question mark, and she had every intention of walking herself down the aisle anyway.

“Well, tell you what,” he said, pushing a plate with a maple bacon donut her way. “If it goes to shit, we’ll go to the nearest bar with Az and the girls. Or we’ll come back here.”

“Do you think-?”

“That it will go to shit?” Cassian asked, grinning slowly. “Nah. Everyone is going to be on their best behavior. Next time, though, who’s to say. We’ll bring popcorn just in case.”

Nesta shook her head, with a small smile. Reaching out, she took his hand, squeezing.

“Okay?” She asked, not wanting to entirely brush over his own stress.

Cassian lifted her knuckles to his lips, kissing them once, twice.

“With you? I’m perfect.”

---

The day, naturally, went by far too quickly for Nesta to keep ahold of. All too soon it was three pm, and Emerie and Gwyn were coming in the door, both with bags of their own clothes to get ready.

“Hello gorgeous,” Emerie greeted, kissing her cheek. “Hello spare human.”

Cassian grinned at her, wrapping her up into a tight hug despite her protests.

“Is everyone else meeting us there?” Gwyn asked, setting down various snacks and two bottles of wine on the kitchen table before bending down to greet her nephew.

“I think so,” Nesta replied. “Except for Az, he should be here soon.”

Her friend blushed just a little and averted her gaze, a beautiful thing that would prove a perfect distraction for her nerves.

“Any drama yet?” Emerie called, making herself at home in the kitchen, opening the bottle of wine and pulling down glasses.

“Not yet,” Nesta replied. “Though, I haven’t heard anything from them in a few hours, so I should probably be concerned.”

“Isn’t Feyre dragging Elain to the Portrait Gallery?” Gwyn said. “That will keep them occupied.”

“And you have met them before, right?” Emerie asked Cassian, handing him a glass.

“Once, at Christmas,” Cassian replied. “They seemed fine enough.”

It was his way of saying they had not done anything to demonstrate just how vicious the three of them could be to one another. Cassian wasn’t quite capable of being mean to people, but he wasn’t naïve either.

“Well, if they misbehave tonight, let me know.” Emerie said. “I’m happy to keep everyone drama free.”

“They should be fine,” Nesta answered.

“What about you?” Emerie asked Cassian then. “Any quirks we should know about?”

To his credit, Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit offended.

“Rhys is planning to run for office, so his ego is a little… inflated. Mor has been described as a walking Barbie, and Amren will probably be on her phone the entire time, working. Everyone else is work friends who have passed the vibe check.”

Her friend hummed, thoughtfully.

“I can work with that. Any Republicans?”

Nesta scoffed, nudging her. Turning to Cassian, she said, “We should probably be worried about Feyre grilling you with lots of questions. And if not you, then the first member of your family she can find.”

Cassian shrugged, entirely unbothered, likely for her sake. “Good thing I’m always the most charming man in the room.”

“Come on,” Gwyn said, her blue eyes bright and kind and so, so comforting. “Let’s curl your hair before he gets too big for his britches.”

Cassian opened his mouth to make what was certainly a lewd comment, only to be hit with a grape thrown by Emerie instead.

“Turn the game on or something,” Emerie ordered, pushing Nesta up the stairs. “We’re going to make your fiancé look hot.”

“My fiancé is already very, very hot, thank you,” Cassian called after them. “You should work on me instead.”

Gwyn laughed, a musical sound, and as Nesta was guided into the bedroom, she felt her anxiety start to ease.

---

Cassian adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waited for Nesta and the girls to come downstairs.

“Did you tell Mor to be on her best behavior?” He asked, absently, focusing intently on trying to get the too tiny button through its hole.

“I did.”

Glancing up, Cassian smiled a little at the sight of Azriel seated on the floor, Bryaxis beside him on his back, accepting pets.

“And?”

“And she responded exactly as you’d expect. That she’s always on her best behavior.”

Cassian sighed. “Right, my mistake.”

He loved Morrigan. Unconditionally. But his cousin was strangely possessive after spending their late teens and early twenties in some kind of non-incestuous co-dependency that was definitely toxic and was still being unpacked in therapy.

The last time he’d brought a girl home, she’d been judgmental, to put it lightly.

And Nesta… Well. Nesta was probably her exact opposite. Between her and Rhys, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were more than a few questions as to how the pair of them ended up together.

“You know, this is different than last time,” Azriel said, scratching B’s ears. “This is your fiancé. They’ll respect that.”

“When have they ever?”

Azriel snorted, shaking his head. “You know they mean well.”

Cassian hummed, unable to entirely disagree, yet also mindful of all the things his therapist would say. Boundaries, mainly.

“What is the saying? We put the fun in dysfunction?”

“Everyone is a little fucked up these days, I think.”

“True.”

“But,” Azriel said, pushing to his feet and brushing off his pants. “You’re getting married, Cass. To a wonderful person. This is a happy occasion.”

Cassian grinned. He hadn’t forgotten that in the slightest.

“She is wonderful, isn’t she?”

“She certainly is,” Emerie replied, entering the kitchen dressed in black leather pants and a lace blouse. “And she’s the hottest person alive, so you better be grateful.”

“Please, Em,”

Nesta’s voice was soft, distracted in a way that suggested she was getting her purse together. But even as she walked in with her head bent, her hands rummaging through the small clutch, she stole Cassian’s breath.

White was a color he was really, really growing fond of seeing on her.

“You did go with the white after all, huh?” He asked, stepping up to wrap his arms around her waist.

“I would feel bad not wearing it,” Nesta replied, closing her bag and smiling slightly up at him.

She was so beautiful, with her hair down and curled, her star necklace around her neck.

“It’s beautiful, anyway,” Gwyn offered, smiling shyly at Azriel who seemed to be having some sort of stroke like event at the sight of her in navy blue.

How cute.

“It is,” he said, softer, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s brow, reverently. “Are we ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Nesta answered, but he felt the way she was more relaxed than before, her friends having eased any lingering anxieties.

“We’ll be in the car,” Emerie said, heading towards the front door. “Don’t do anything lewd and mess up the makeup!”

Nesta flushed, but it only made him laugh, forever endeared by her bold friend. As they all shuffled out, he squeezed her tighter, relishing the scent of her perfume.

“You do look beautiful,” he whispered. “My beautiful, exceptionally sexy fiancé.”

“Oh, stop it.” She scoffed. Then, softly, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

Humming, he kissed her, long and full of promise, enough that she pushed up on her toes, seeking more.

Pulling away, he ran his thumb under her bottom lip, to fix a small smudge of lipstick.

 “Ready?” he asked, mesmerized by the fact that this was his life.

“Ready,” Nesta answered, taking his hand and lacing their fingers as they followed after their friends.

---

The rooftop bar sparkled, with crystal chandeliers and white table cloths. It was excessive, apparently toned down for Rhysand’s taste, and though Nesta did enjoy the finer things in life, it was still a bit much.

And yet, it was full.

Cassian, golden retriever that he was, had many, many friends. Nesta’s showing was smaller, yet more than she was expecting. Not in the least when Eris Vanserra greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and not so subtly informed her that he’d spread the invitation around to her former coworkers.

There was a pleasant buzz as everyone mingled together, a party that was well underway and more successful than she was ever expecting.

But the loudest group, by far, was Cassian’s family.

Boisterous seemed an apt description, with laughter and a presence that seemed to just take up space. The blonde woman – who she assumed was Mor – was vibrant in a way Nesta could never hope to be. She spoke loudly and dramatically, telling some kind of story to none other than her own sister.

Feyre was dressed in a lovely blue dress, her hair messily braided in a way that still looked put together. Elain was not at her side, though a quick scan across the room showed her at the bar.

The blonde woman was flanked by Rhysand – who stood out like he owned the entire building, in a luxury suit. If one hadn’t known in advance, she wouldn’t be surprised if her guests assumed he was her fiancé.

Notably, Feyre could not keep her eyes off him.

“And you thought no one would come,” Cassian whispered into her ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek. His hand was a steady presence on her waist, comforting the social anxiety that fluttered in her stomach.

“Nesta is beloved she just won’t admit it,” Gwyn said. “And you’re popular too, I guess.”

Cassian snorted, waving hello at one of his friends from the military – Bal – before he was guiding her over to their primary targets – family.

“I see you all found each other without our assistance,” Cassian said, his hand dropping to lace with her own.

Nesta swallowed, lifting her chin.

Rhysand’s head snapped over, his eyes sparkling in a way that was too well practiced.

“There he is! Our man of the hour.”

Then, Cassian was letting go to embrace him, to accept a kiss from Mor on the cheek, and to nod at Amren.

“And you must be her,” Rhysand said. “The mysterious Nesta Archeron.”

“I can’t believe you actually wore white,” Feyre commented, by way of greeting.

Nesta glanced between them, torn between a quippy response and a proper introduction.

“You must be Rhysand,” she settled on. “Thank you, for the party.”

“Ah, well, no expense is too small for my brother.”

Nesta offered him a well-practiced smile, then turned her attention to Feyre. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” Feyre said, and then they were embracing, somewhat awkwardly. “Father sends his best. He wishes he could make it, but wasn’t up to traveling.”

Nesta hummed, waving it off. “It’s fine. Tell him thank you.”

She could dwell on the fact that he didn’t bother to call her directly later.

“Rhys was telling me about his run for office,” Feyre said then. “Colorado.”

“Oh, I see,” Nesta replied. “I didn’t know you’d moved.”

“We own cabins out there,” Rhys answered. “It’s not hard to change my residency. A seat’s opened up, so I thought I might as well try and fix this mess myself.”

Typical.

She made a noise that neither indicated her approval or annoyance at this man, who truly was the perfect example of a try-hard Congressional wannabe.

“Mor’s agreed to run my campaign while Amren handles the business,” Rhys explained, as if Nesta knew what that meant.

“Wow,” Cassian said from beside her. “I didn’t know you were really going for it.”

“Enough shop talk,” Mor interrupted, pushing forward so she could assess Nesta properly. “Let me look at you, miss Nesta. It’s a shame we’re only meeting you now.”

“We all live busy lives Mor,” Cassian said, sliding his arm back around Nesta’s waist. “You’re the one always travelling.”

Mor scoffed. “Still, my beloved Cassie is getting married, and I haven’t even been able to vet the bride!”

Cassian laughed, softly. “Nesta doesn’t need vetting. She’s perfect.”

Nesta flushed, not missing the way Feyre quirked a brow.

“Very high praise,” Rhys said, with a grin. “Though, he hasn’t shut up about you from the start.”

“He doesn’t shut up, period,” Azriel quipped, appearing beside her. “Though, with Nesta, I can confirm it’s warranted.”

Nesta did properly blush then, unused to the praise. In answer, Cassian squeezed her hip, as if he knew exactly how uncomfortable it was.

“Well, praises aside, let me take the fiancé for his own questioning,” Feyre declared, stepping up to Cassian with pure challenge in her eyes.

Cassian smiled, undeterred. “Of course.”

Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek, murmuring a soft ‘I love you,’ into her ear, before he and Feyre were walking away, towards the bar.

Which left Nesta surrounded by his family. Alone.

Well, alone with Azriel for backup.

“So, Nesta,” Amren said, her first comment during this entire exchange. “I looked you up. No longer serving our country through diplomacy?”

Nesta tilted her head, assessing the challenge. “Not anymore, no.”

“Thank God for that,” Mor said. “I don’t know if I could stomach it if you actively worked for Cheeto puff.”

Quirking a brow, Nesta fought the urge to launch into her spiel about the difference between a bureaucratic public servant and the administration. How thousands of feds who had worked for decades were now faced with a life altering choice – one that could very well change their entire socioeconomic status.

“Yes, getting fired really is such a noble undertaking,” Azriel said dryly.

Mor laughed, a high pitch sound that sounded just on the side of nervous. She exchanged a look with Rhysand for a moment, before she asked,

“And are you working now?”

“Nesta’s writing a book, actually,” Azriel answered for her. It was, technically, true, but was very much still a draft.

“Oh! How fun,” Mor answered, looking, to her credit, at least a little genuinely interested. “So, you had some savings then? To take the time off?”

Nesta swallowed, feeling a bit sweaty. How judgmental would they get, if they knew she was living on Cassian’s dime.

“I hope you don’t mind if I say,” Rhysand said, changing the subject as if he knew. “You aren’t his usual type. How did you snare him, exactly?”

“He accosted me in the airport,” Nesta replied. “Apparently, he likes verbal beratement.

"You have a thing for pilots?”

"Not until now."

“Well, he is a bit of a masochist.” Mor answered, assessing her closely, as if to learn every detail. “Likes his women a little bitchy—“

“Let’s get a drink,” Azriel interrupted, looping his arm through hers. “You’re the bride, you need champagne.”

Nesta blinked, allowing him to begin pulling her away. “It was nice to meet you,” she called, fighting past the awkwardness as she kept in step with him.

“You did great,” Azriel whispered, nudging her. “They’re always a little intense. Thought we'd evacuate before someone puts their foot int heir mouth.”

Offering him a tight smile, Nesta tried her best to believe him.

---

Cassian was good at getting people to like him.

It was kind of a defining trait of his.

“So,” Feyre said. “You remember Elain, our other sister.”

Elain Archeron was pretty in the Pinterest Cottagecore way, dressed in a cute floral pattered dress, her hair long and perfectly wavy. She had a warmer face, probably helped by her large brown eyes.

She seemed, for all intents and purposes, quite lovely.

“Of course,” he answered. “It’s good to see you again.”

“We didn’t get the chance to ask you any questions at Christmas,” Elain said, leaning on the bar with interest. “You’ll have to forgive us if we grill you now.”

“I can take it, ladies, I promise,” he assured, with a wink, glancing briefly over to where Azriel was getting Nesta her own drink, already protective probably to a fault.

Kindred spirits, the pair of them, he liked to think. Aside from Gwyn and Emerie, he was perhaps the only other person in the room Cassian was certain Nesta would be entirely safe with.

Not that they were in active danger, necessarily.

“First question,” Feyre began. “You aren’t Nesta’s type. Like… at all. What the fuck did you do?”

“Rules are made to have exceptions, aren’t they?” Cassian supplied. “Maybe I was just that impressive.”

Elain snorted. “Nesta doesn’t really do exceptions. Or relationships, actually. This is all quite the surprise. You know, I really thought she was going to marry her last boyfriend, but apparently not.”

Cassian kept a smile on his face, despite the way his fury pricked in the back of his mind at the mention of that bastard. 

“Well, people change.”

“You just seem… so bright,” Feyre said, squinting her eyes. “And Nesta can be a little…”

“She’s our storm cloud,” Elain offered, and though her tone made it sound like an endearing compliment, Cassian knew that it had not always been so lighthearted.

“She’s amazing,” Cassian asserted. “And if I am the exception to her rules, then I am very lucky. Besides, we can all be storm clouds sometimes, right? Nesta has her own sunshine, as I’m sure you know.”

Elain grinned, and he knew he’d won her over.

Feyre was more difficult, but Cassian loved a challenge. They’d be best friends in no time.

“We don’t have the closest sister relationship,” she said. “But we try. I am happy for you both. Even if it is a surprise.”

“Well, I promise to take very good care of her,” He vowed. “And you have permission to hunt me down if I don’t.”

Feyre raised a brow, as if the idea was a bit absurd. But Elain giggled, and that was enough for him.

“Cassian!” A familiar voice called, and he turned his head to see Mor waving him over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, with a wink.

Without waiting for a reply, he approached his cousin, settling beside her at one of the tall tables.

“So,” he began. “Campaign manager?”

“Oh, I suppose,” Mor sighed, leaning on her elbows. “I was bored, so I might as well put my communications and public policy degrees to use.”

“I suppose you should,” Cassian teased. “Or else how will you pay for your next vacation?”

She nudged him, scoffing. But then her eyes found Nesta on the other side of the room, and she sobered, a little.

“So, she’s it for you?” Mor asked.

“She is.” Cassian said. “She’s… well, she’s everything.”

“She’s so different from what you usually go for. I was wondering why you kept her from us.”

“I didn’t intentionally keep her from you,” Cassian countered. “You are gone a lot, and so is Rhys. It just worked out that way.”

Mor hummed, unconvinced. “She’s a little frosty, no?”

“Not everyone is as bubbly as you, cousin,” Cassian said. “We’re a perfect balance, you’ll see.”

In truth, he didn’t really care if she did or didn’t. Nesta was his and he was hers and that’s all that mattered to him.

“I’m not sure she likes me,” Mor admitted, taking a sip of her wine.

“It takes more than one conversation to decide that,” Cassian argued. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“As long as you’re happy,” she relented. “You know that’s all I want for you.”

Cassian smiled softly at her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve never been happier.”

Nesta met his eyes then, and he was moving before he even realized. It truly was like the storybooks, where everything else fell away and there was only the most beautiful woman in the room, waiting for him.

“There you are,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Surviving being the center of attention?”

“Luckily for me, there are enough personalities here to avoid it,” Nesta mused, relaxing under his touch. “Survive interrogation?”

“It was pretty light, all things considered,” Cassian answered. “I’m sure breakfast tomorrow will be different.”

Nesta snorted. “Feyre is notoriously not an early riser. It may be more like lunch.”

“Fine with me. Means I have more time to keep you in bed—”

Her hand smacked his chest gently. “Heathen.”

Dipping his head down, he kissed the corner of her jaw, and whispered, “if you think you aren’t going to be naked in that bed the moment we get home, I might just have to take you somewhere private to give you a preview.”

“Not with our families in the vicinity you won’t. That cannot be my first impression.”

Pushing up on her toes, Nesta took the opportunity to murmur into his ear,

“Besides, what I’m wearing under this dress is a surprise, and you won’t spoil it.”

Cassian felt his body heat at the insinuation, and his pants grew just a bit tighter. Squeezing her closer, he pressed a kiss to her neck, in silent promise.

“Fine,” he said. “Dance with me instead.”

Nesta raised a brow, tuning in to the music that was playing perhaps for the first time.

“Right now?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Cassian took her hands, pulling her out towards the center of the room. “Let’s show everyone how insanely talented you are.”

She shook her head at him, laughing softly. Still, she followed his lead, hands sliding up to his shoulder as if it were second nature, her body already moving to the music’s rhythm.

She was a goddess, and it would only take one spin around the room for everyone to know it. 

--- 

"Everyone, thank you so much for coming."

Nesta scanned her eyes around the room as Cassian spoke, taking in the faces of Cassian's family, of her sisters as they sat nearby, Feyre standing next to Rhys, the two of them having spent most of the night talking to one another.

A potential problem, but one for later.

"I know we don't get together often," Cassian continued. "But my bother insisted we have some kind of shindig, and if it means I get to introduce you all to this magnificent woman, then so be it. And, of course, those of you here for Nesta know how amazing she is."

Emerie cheered from the bar, Gwyn clapping loudly, which earned her a few other people's applause, making her smile despite herself. 

"This year has sucked, we all know. And it means more than you know that you all came out to celebrate us. If I'd know years ago that all it took to get a woman to fall in love with me was to spill coffee on her at the airport, I probably would have tried it, and gotten my ass kicked. Luckily for me, Nesta is merciful." 

There was laughter and genuine affection on so many faces. Catching Azriel's eye briefly, he smiled at her, tilting his head in an encouraging nod. 

"I'm not one for speeches," Cassian offered. "I get away with being bad at them because no one can ever understand me during my flight announcements anyway. But I just wanted to take a moment and toast my beautiful wife-to-be, and all of you, for celebrating her with me. I am truly grateful for her, for you all, and for this life I have been blessed with." 

A round of applause, and then Nesta was being tilted and kissed, softly. 

It was a moment that made her feel lighter than air, for a moment entirely alone, with him. 

None of the anxiety mattered, anymore. Just the pair of them, and this adventure they were embarking on. 

"And don't forget!" Cassian called, raising his glass. "The bar tab is on Rhys!" 

That got a rowdy cheer, enough of a distraction that Cassian could scoop her up again, kissing her just long enough to be inappropriate, if anyone was paying attention.

"I love you," he said to her. "What would I do without you?"

"Hopefully not accost some other woman at Dulles," Nesta replied. Then, softer, "the real question is, what would I do without you?" 

"Let's never find out," Cassian said, reaching up to cup her face. "Deal?"

Nesta smiled. "Deal." 

---

Two hours later, when the party was starting to die down, Emerie found her lovebirds on the terrace outside.

Nesta was wrapped up in Cassian’s jacket, her back against his chest as he held her tight, her head turned to rest against his neck, her eyes closed.

Her best friend was low on spoons after what was a valiant effort at socializing all night long.

Coming to rest beside them, Emerie leaned her elbows on the railing, lighting a cigarette.

“Tired?” Cassian asked her, turning his head just a little to meet her eyes, his cheek pressing into Nesta’s hair.

“Mm. Music’s a bit loud after a while.”

“That’s what smoke breaks are for.”

She laughed, softly, taking a long drag. Dipping her head to assess Nesta more closely, she asked,

“All good, baby girl?”

Nesta hummed in affirmation, turning so that she could snuggle better into Cassian’s arms.

“Just sleepy,” Cassian supplied, brushing his hand over her hair. “Big day.”

It was a miraculous thing, to watch the reverence with which this man took care of her friend. The warmth and affection in his eyes, the deliberate gentleness in each touch. It was no less than what Nesta deserved.

“You know, the next time all these people are together, it’ll be the actual big day.”

She caught the way Nesta’s lips twitched upwards and fought her own smile.

Cassian grinned, pressing a kiss to his fiancé’s hair. “Don’t I know it.”

Turning to look back at the party, Emerie watched Gwyn chat animatedly to Azriel, who was looking at her with those big puppy-dog eyes that both men seemed to share.

She had a feeling that would prove to be an interesting development.

“It’s quieting down now,” she offered. “You crazy kids should get out of here. Gwyn, Az, and I can wrap it all up.”

“Yeah?” Cassian asked, rubbing his hand up Nesta’s back. “What do you think, sweetheart? Ready to bail?”

Nesta lifted her head, looking up at him.

“Cookies first.”

“Of course,” Cassian answered. “There’s an Insomnia up the street.”

Emerie grinned, knowing full well her friend’s affinity for chocolate.

“Go on,” she said. “Enjoy your night properly.”

Nesta stepped out of his arms, though their hands were already laced together. “Goodnight, Em,” she said, reaching out to squeeze her own hand. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Emerie replied, allowing for Cassian to wrap her in a brief one-armed hug, before they disappeared back inside.

Cassian’s arm was back around Nesta’s waist, pulling her close, and Emerie’s smile was soft as she watched them say their goodbyes.

It may not be obvious to their families now, but they would learn, in time.

There was no one else, for either of them. Soulmates, in every sense of the word.

And Emerie couldn’t be happier to witness it.