She hesitates instinctively, then finally takes his hand to steady herself. It helps, even if she feels a little silly doing it.
"I'm fine." That's an obvious lie, but what she means is that she's alive, and that's more than she expected when that thing had her cornered. "What about you?"
Bobbie does sit, easing herself down awkwardly and trying not to wince as he does. And then he checks her out incredibly blatantly and she laughs, struggling to stifle it when her ribs protest. It's flattering, though.
Amos keeps his eyes on her for a moment, putting down the screwdriver by one of her armored gloves. He turns fully towards Bobbie, crossing his arms over his chest, jumpsuit straining against him a little.
"Worth it though, wasn't it?"
Amos knows about vengeance, about getting even. It's why he shot Strickland in the face and it's why he burned the real Burton to a crisp. And he knows Bobbie had the same designs when it came to the Hybrids. He can't begrudge her that - how much she wanted to get even. He understands, all too well.
"And for what it's worth, you make a pretty hot bruise."
Was it worth it? It was, in a million ways, and it was partially for revenge. They did what they set out to do, and she made sure the crew and kids got out safe, but... it didn't help her feel any better about her team. She doesn't know what will anymore. Before she can go too far down that rabbit hole, he calls her hot and she looks up. The smile's a little slow to come, but it's there.
He raises an eyebrow, the look on his face slightly amused. He likes Bobbie - there is no denying it. Sure, she spends more of her time with Alex, Martian compatriots and all, but Amos feels like they get each other anyway. She's a survivor, and Amos can appreciate that more than she might think.
"I'm just saying it like it is. Watching you run away to that thing, I -"
He pauses, then shrugs. "One, it was really hot, and two, I wanted to follow. Doesn't happen often."
He follows those he trusts and those he wants to protect. Technically, she should be neither of these things, and yet...
That gets her smile to widen into something more genuine. She's been getting closer with Alex, sure, and things are settling down with the crew of the Roci, but that—knowing that someone would follow her into danger even if it was a stupid idea—is something she'd expect from her unit. Something she misses. So, even though Amos is blatantly hitting on her, it means a lot.
"I would have kicked your ass if you followed me," she says, voice teasing. "But maybe you're into that."
With a smile on his face and his expression probably only mildly readable, especially in the dimness of the machine shop, Amos turns back to the armor, picking up his multitool to lift the faceplate off of Bobbie's helmet. It's cracked to hell and needs replacing, which they don't have, but as is he can try to smooth it out some, make it usable.
"Maybe I am. Wouldn't you like to know, uh?"
It's a funny relationship. Started rocky, but quickly switched from animosity to understanding, and now, here they are, flirting. Amos isn't 100% on it - because he isn't that great at reading people, even if he is a keen observer - but he's pretty sure she's enjoying it, if only just for the mindless fun of it.
Bobbie picks up a plate of armor, running her fingers over a marred edge. The flirting is sort of mindless, but it's good stress relief, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't interested. He's hot.
Amos chuckles, a small noise that's more breath than anything else, as he smooths his thumb over her faceplate. He puts it down carefully, and then unhooks the small flashlights mounted in the helmet. They need new bulbs.
"Don't think there's a single time I've shot a gun that hasn't given me a hard-on. Adrenaline rush. Or maybe I'm just into it," he replies after a pause, and then puts the flashlights down on a tray, turning back towards Bobbie, his eyes dark, pupils blown. "I've thought about sparring with you. Gets me hard, too."
She doesn't want coy? Well, here she goes. Amos is no liar, and he doesn't really beat around the bush, either. He can't tell if it's the answer she's been looking for, but at least, it's the truth.
That's about as far from coy as physically possible, and Bobbie's lips quirk up. How often does he think about this, exactly? She abandons that little piece of armor in favor of reaching for his forearm, fingertips tracing the stylized A tattooed there.
"I don't think sparring is going to happen any time soon, but I bet I can figure something out."
Bobbie's gaze slips down to his lips until she forces her eyes back to his. Her hand slides up to his bicep, her head tilting as she considers the question.
"I'm a simple girl. Let me boss you around and I'll be happy."
It's the kind of stuff he's heard before. From paying customers, with a lot less qualms about establishing any kind of trust beforehand. It isn't the same, even if he tenses, then relaxes a moment later. It doesn't make his head spin, send him straight into severing the connection between his brain and his body. He stays right here feeling her touch, leaning slightly closer as he speaks, voice low.
He tenses and she pauses, studying his face, trying to suss out if she's crossed the line from easy flirting to too far, but then he leans closer and she smiles. Apparently this is fine, or it's fine so far. Bobbie reaches up to touch his cheek, thumb skimming along his beard. She doesn't answer him, just closes the last of the distance between them to press her lips against his. Admittedly, it's a bit gentler than she would be usually. She needs to make sure this is actually okay before she starts getting pushy.
It's unexpected, the way she kisses him. If it was anything like what Amos knows, she would have started with an order. She probably wouldn't be kissing him at all - costs extra, and most johns weren't willing to pony up for it.
Amos snaps his mind right off of that path. She's nothing like that, and he's not about to taint Bobbie with these thoughts, these ugly memories he prefers to keep locked away. And - Amos has never been kissed like this - deliberately slow, gentle, and it makes him take a sharp breath through his nose as he responds to it, hand reaching up to frame her jaw, head tilting up to hers.
That's permission, she thinks, and she relaxes, fingers sliding up into his hair, still slow even as she deepens the kiss. Sure, she'd sleep with him in a heartbeat, but whatever tentative friendship is forming between them is more important, and she doesn't want to screw that up. And yeah, bossing him around would be fun, but if she's honest with herself, she's exhausted and sore and this is easing all the tension from her shoulders, loosening her up. She leans into him a bit, her free hand splaying on his chest as she tries to steady herself. Balancing is a challenge right now.
Amos lets out a soft noise, one that surprises even himself, as he wraps his free arm around Bobbie's waist. He doesn't make it a tight hold, just something for her to steady herself against, securing her a little more as he licks at her bottom lip, allowing himself to enjoy this like he thinks it should be enjoyed.
He pulls away after a long while, though, feeling a little dazed - breathing shallow, lips tingling, vision hazy when he blinks his eyes open. He can't recall a kiss ever feeling this nice.
"You need to sit," he says, voice a little rough, eyes darting to his stool again, even though his hands don't move away from her. "Take it easy."
By the time he breaks the kiss she's struggling to catch her breath, which is doing a number on her bruised ribs, but she doesn't pull back. She's surprised by how quickly her heart is racing, and when he tells her to sit, she blinks. It takes a second to register, but then she grins.
"Oh, Amos," she teases, still not pulling away. "I didn't know how much you cared."
He grins, licking his lips as he stands close, then guides Bobbie to sit again, one of his hands on her hip, the other on her forearm.
"If you want to know how much I care, you'll sit like you're told and let me go down on you."
He knows the look in his eye is teasing, but he's completely serious. Bobbie's being gentle with him right now, when he feels like, after what she's just been through, he should be the one giving back to her. So here he is.
The bluntness takes her off guard and she laughs, one hand going to her side as her ribs protest. Jesus, she's a mess, but she can't turn him down when he's looking at her like that and when he's licking his lips in a way she thinks should definitely be illegal.
So she sits, free hand still on his shoulder, and raises her eyebrows. "I'm not gonna complain."
He doesn’t mean to hurt her, but he knows everything is an ache right now already, so nothing he can can make it that much worse. Naomi often worries that he’s too blunt, too in your face, but it seems to be refreshing to Bobbie. Like she enjoys the change of pace.
She sits, and Amos wastes no time kneeling between her legs, reaching up to slide the zipper of her jumpsuit down. It’s loose on her, much bigger than they are supposed to fit.
“You couldn’t find one that wasn’t a triple-XL?”
He might be quipping, but his eyes are taking in the skin he’s exposing, her sports bra, soon enough her stomach, too. His hand slides past the zipper, touching delicate skin and aching muscles with surprising gentleness.
It catches her off guard, how delicate he's being, and she can't stop herself from shivering, eyes closing as she relaxes into his touch. Her skin is a mess of mottled bruises, angry dark purples and blues fading into greens. Not exactly a pretty sight, but Bobbie doesn't seem self-conscious. He knows what he signed up for.
"It's not like this ship has a wide variety," she replies, but she already sounds just a hair distracted.
Amos makes a noise - Martians tend to be much bigger and taller than Earther, and Bobbie is no exception, and yet she still managed to find one that looks like it belonged on Lopez. It might have been for the ease of pulling it on without having to strain too many bruised parts of her, but Bobbie's a Marine. She's tough, and she definitely isn't one to show weakness.
Amos isn't going to ask it of her. Instead he pushes at the fabric at her shoulders, getting it off her top half. One day, he wants to spar with her, see how much she can give in a ring. One day, he wants her to push him against a wall and tell him exactly what she wants.
Today, he wants her to be treated like the hero she is. She saved them all, on Io - kept them safe. Kept Mei safe.
"Lift your hips," he says, and it doesn't exactly sound like a order. He winks.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"I'm fine." That's an obvious lie, but what she means is that she's alive, and that's more than she expected when that thing had her cornered. "What about you?"
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"Sit," he says, a lot softer than a demand would be. "I'm fine. I'm not the one who went one to one with a hybrid."
He gives her a pointed look, letting his eyes travel down, then back up her body, unsubtle as Amos knows how to be.
"That was... something."
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"You know I'm one giant bruise right now, right?"
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"Worth it though, wasn't it?"
Amos knows about vengeance, about getting even. It's why he shot Strickland in the face and it's why he burned the real Burton to a crisp. And he knows Bobbie had the same designs when it came to the Hybrids. He can't begrudge her that - how much she wanted to get even. He understands, all too well.
"And for what it's worth, you make a pretty hot bruise."
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"You have a way with words, Amos."
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"I'm just saying it like it is. Watching you run away to that thing, I -"
He pauses, then shrugs. "One, it was really hot, and two, I wanted to follow. Doesn't happen often."
He follows those he trusts and those he wants to protect. Technically, she should be neither of these things, and yet...
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"I would have kicked your ass if you followed me," she says, voice teasing. "But maybe you're into that."
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"Maybe I am. Wouldn't you like to know, uh?"
It's a funny relationship. Started rocky, but quickly switched from animosity to understanding, and now, here they are, flirting. Amos isn't 100% on it - because he isn't that great at reading people, even if he is a keen observer - but he's pretty sure she's enjoying it, if only just for the mindless fun of it.
"I'm into a lot of things."
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"Are you gonna share or play coy?"
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"Don't think there's a single time I've shot a gun that hasn't given me a hard-on. Adrenaline rush. Or maybe I'm just into it," he replies after a pause, and then puts the flashlights down on a tray, turning back towards Bobbie, his eyes dark, pupils blown. "I've thought about sparring with you. Gets me hard, too."
She doesn't want coy? Well, here she goes. Amos is no liar, and he doesn't really beat around the bush, either. He can't tell if it's the answer she's been looking for, but at least, it's the truth.
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"I don't think sparring is going to happen any time soon, but I bet I can figure something out."
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"Something? You've said it, you're a giant bruise right now. Shouldn't overextend yourself."
He licks his lips, leaning in a little. "What do you like, anyway?"
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"I'm a simple girl. Let me boss you around and I'll be happy."
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"And what is it you want me to do, boss?"
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Amos snaps his mind right off of that path. She's nothing like that, and he's not about to taint Bobbie with these thoughts, these ugly memories he prefers to keep locked away. And - Amos has never been kissed like this - deliberately slow, gentle, and it makes him take a sharp breath through his nose as he responds to it, hand reaching up to frame her jaw, head tilting up to hers.
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He pulls away after a long while, though, feeling a little dazed - breathing shallow, lips tingling, vision hazy when he blinks his eyes open. He can't recall a kiss ever feeling this nice.
"You need to sit," he says, voice a little rough, eyes darting to his stool again, even though his hands don't move away from her. "Take it easy."
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"Oh, Amos," she teases, still not pulling away. "I didn't know how much you cared."
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"If you want to know how much I care, you'll sit like you're told and let me go down on you."
He knows the look in his eye is teasing, but he's completely serious. Bobbie's being gentle with him right now, when he feels like, after what she's just been through, he should be the one giving back to her. So here he is.
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So she sits, free hand still on his shoulder, and raises her eyebrows. "I'm not gonna complain."
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She sits, and Amos wastes no time kneeling between her legs, reaching up to slide the zipper of her jumpsuit down. It’s loose on her, much bigger than they are supposed to fit.
“You couldn’t find one that wasn’t a triple-XL?”
He might be quipping, but his eyes are taking in the skin he’s exposing, her sports bra, soon enough her stomach, too. His hand slides past the zipper, touching delicate skin and aching muscles with surprising gentleness.
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"It's not like this ship has a wide variety," she replies, but she already sounds just a hair distracted.
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Amos isn't going to ask it of her. Instead he pushes at the fabric at her shoulders, getting it off her top half. One day, he wants to spar with her, see how much she can give in a ring. One day, he wants her to push him against a wall and tell him exactly what she wants.
Today, he wants her to be treated like the hero she is. She saved them all, on Io - kept them safe. Kept Mei safe.
"Lift your hips," he says, and it doesn't exactly sound like a order. He winks.