Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I didn't think you'd understand me

how could you ever even try?

She was like a virus, embedded so deeply in his veins and impossible to get rid off. Not that Sable had actually ever done anything to him. But still, that mouth; quick witted, snarky and always irritated with him. She just had so much fucking attitude . Attitude that she only evidently gave him, because Bjorn was an asshole. An identifier he usually enjoyed wearing, like a badge of honour. 

Except when she called him one. 

Everyone else got smiles, or a ghost of one, but him? He was lucky if she ignored him. 

In Sable’s defence, she’d been polite when they first met - Tyler and Navarro had needed repairs on the ship, and Westbridge Mechanics was the only one around that did decent discounts. Discounts of the nefarious kind. Tyler managed to jack some Weyland-Yutani equipment? Then Westbridge got a cut, and in return, cheaper repairs. 

Westbridge being Sable’s father. The first time he’d hit up their garage with Navarro, his bright gaze had latched onto her like a fucking moth to flame. Blood red hair tied in a ponytail, suspended half in the air as she welded the windows for a cockpit of a ship into place. Bjorn remembered he found her mesmerising, like something out of those old movies that predated his birth by about five hundred fucking years. 

The type of movies where the leading lady walked down a flight of stairs, glowing and beautiful and impossible to look away from. Except this leading lady was sweaty, grease stains all over her arms and operating heavy machinery. Then she’d gone and gotten her left hand burnt, singing the skin off and revealing the machinery beneath. He’d mistaken her for a synthetic, and then spoken to her like one.

How was he supposed to know she had a bionic fucking arm?

Sable had descended back to the ground, cloth wrapped around her hand to stem the flow of milky white fluid, a sneer adorned her dirty, beautiful features. 

‘ Watch your fucking mouth, asshole.’ 

Anger made her hazel eyes brighter, like a flame that had been ignited. If he wasn’t so amped up in embarrassment, blood still laced with the remnants of his volatile feelings towards synthetics, then maybe he would have apologised. But he didn’t. 

Instead, Bjorn had effectively set the stage for a relationship that brimmed with incandescent rage and sharp, cold words. The problem was… Bjorn liked it that way. 

If Sable had to guess, she felt like Bjorn resented her. For what? Probably the fact her arm made him think of his mother - which, you know, she could sympathise with - but he could have dialled it back a bit. Instead, he seemed to lean into it. It would have been comical how easily she could read him in that regard, pride would never allow him to walk back on the way he had behaved. 

Most days, she got a kick out of him provoking her. Not that night though. That night, she had been run ragged by manning the garage on her own for three days - her dad had been sent to the mines to help repair one of the drill tractors after a cave in - and her body was feeling it. Her muscles sore and aching, head pulsing with a migraine and stomach protesting at the lack of food she’d consumed - she simply hadn’t had the time. 

Sable pulled her hair free from its ponytail, hoping to ease the headache, and leaned into her seat around the fire that Tyler had ignited. The group - that Navarro had pulled her into by sheer force - were all in idle discussion. Her eyes had been closed, half on the way to falling asleep, when she reopened them. Sable’s hazel eyes had drifted over every member of the circle, from Kay all the way to Andy, before she caught Bjorn’s. 

He had already been watching her, an overly satisfied and taunting smirk settling into those infuriatingly full lips. She scowled. 

‘What’s wrong with you, princess? Got a face like a slapped arse.’ It wasn’t a term of endearment, and Sable had never treated it as such.

She gave him the finger in response, and Bjorn scoffed as he sat up in his fold out chair, leaning forward. ‘Is princess tired from finally having to do long hours like the rest of us?’ 

‘Suck my dick, Bjorn.’ Sable ground out, her patience non-existent before joining them was now in the trash. 

‘You’d love tha’, wouldn’t ya?’ He smirked.

‘Give it a rest, cus.’ Tyler shot out, rolling his eyes. Rain’s head was tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. 

Bjorn threw his hands up, palms facing them in mock surrender. ‘I’m just askin’ a question, not my fault the girl can’t hack actually workin’ hard. Is it too much? Not like havin’ to actually work for what ya dad gives ya on a silver spoon?’ 

Sable was in a privileged position, she knew that. Not many Weyland-Yutani mechanics were around these days. Most had either been stationed on another planet, or fallen ill from the new fucking fevers that went around every cycle. Her dad’s position meant she didn’t have to work in the mines, nor did she have any official mechanic training that the corporation provided and inevitably made her indebted to them for. Compared to the rest of Jackson’s Star residents, she was lucky.

It didn’t meant that Sable didn’t work her fucking ass off, though. 

‘Does inhaling all those fumes in the mines mean you have permanent brain damage and can’t have a civilised conversation without being a fucking cunt, Bjorn? Or are you just bitter about the fact I still have a parent?’ 

The silence was so thick Sable was sure she could have cut through it with a blade, and the longer it extended, the more regret bled into her thoughts. Guilt clogged her throat in a way it hadn’t ever before, and Sable found it was difficult for her eyes to stay on Bjorn. There was a moment where she almost apologised, had even opened her mouth and inhaled a breath to do so sincerely, and then Bjorn had spoken first.

‘least I didn’t fuckin kill my mum when I was comin out o’her.’ 

It lacked any of the taunting Bjorn usually exhibited. No hint of teasing or arrogance that accompanied his barbs toward Sable. Instead, it was cutting. Short, and cold and cruel. 

He said the quiet part out loud. A thought that had swirled in her mind like dirty water in a drain in every dark moment throughout her youth and adulthood. 

‘Bjorn! What the fuck is wrong with you?!’ Navarro snapped, but it wasn’t any use. 

When Sable finally looked at him, she was taken aback by the ferocity in his gaze. The hard set of his lips, and stiffness of his jaw. Sable felt a stone lodge in her throat, a pressure building behind her nose and a sting in her eyes. Abandoning her drink, Sable stood, not even bothering to bid anyone good night. She was too busy holding onto the last shred of her dignity, only letting the tears fall when she turned her back on everyone. 

There wasn’t even a fucking call. No request to come into the Employee Affairs office so that some asshole in a shitty suit could sit Sable down, offer her some stale tissues, and tell her that her dad was dead. 

All she got was an automated message transmitted to her with bullet points. He’d died in the mining collapse, mid rescue and extraction, no bodies were recovered. Everything was left in her name. She didn’t get to bury or cremate him. All that was left of her dad was an automated message that would delete itself after ninety days. 

For the first hour, Sable had simply stared at it on her data pad, like if she looked at it for long enough it would make it disappear and rewrite itself. Then she’d tried to go down to sector fifteen, where her dad had been working, to try and find someone - anyone - who knew something, only to be told the exact same thing. At least that time she’d received some form of comfort. A squeeze of her shoulder and a sympathetic frown, from some random she’d never fucking met before. 

Then the tears came, like a tidal wave that pulled her beneath the surface and spun her until she didn’t know which way was the surface. It gripped onto Sable’s lungs like an infection, her sobs running her ragged and until she could have sworn she had dehydrated herself. She crawled into the small bed of her little trailer - that she once shared with her dad - and cried so hard that she’d exhausted herself. 

The knocking could have come hours, or days, after that. Sable couldn’t have really given an accurate time back then. It had blurred into one. 

‘Sable? Sabes? You home?’ That sounded a lot like Tyler, but she was so tired that the thought of getting out of bed sounded so… exhausting. ‘Listen- I heard about ya’ dad, I wanted to check you were alright? The garage’s been closed a while, we were gettin worried.’ 

The last time she’d seen Tyler was when she’d had her fight with Bjorn. Was that only a few nights ago? To Sable, it felt like weeks had passed. Maybe it had. 

‘Sabes, man. You don’ have to be on your own through this.’ 

The neon lighting from outside bled through the blinds of her window, rain littering the glass in a soft melody. It was the first time Sable had found comfort in anything, and allowed the warm glow and pattering of rain to lull her back to sleep. Tyler’s voice could have almost been called a hallucination. 

Eventually, the days blurred into one, and Sable drifted in and out of sleep. The idea of getting out of bed felt overwhelming, and something she forced herself to do only when she needed the bathroom. Showering, eating, changing her clothes, it all sounded so stupid. So foreign and inconsequential. What was the point in any of that? What was the point in anything ? 

When sleep evaded her, Sable just buried her face into her pillow, forcing her eyes shut and willing sleep to take her again. Others had knocked - at least, Sable thought others had. Her memories weren’t so clear in the following days - weeks? - after her dad, but a memory itched at the back of her mind, a vague audio of Navarro, Rain and Kay’s voices simultaneously asking her to open up. She didn’t think she ever stayed awake long enough to actually check if it was real. 

Bjorn came last, and that one - Sable knew - was very real. Because he didn’t knock, he broke in . Bypassing her security codes, like the fucking felon he was, and closing the door behind him. If Sable had had it in her, she would have bitten his head off for it. But her mind was clouded with sleep, eyes blinking rapidly at his stupidly tall form as he loomed over her, red bandanna in his hair and oversized coat covered in raindrops. 

‘Get up.’ He demanded, though not unkindly. ‘Let’s start with a shower, yeah?’ 

Sable had barely had a moment to sit up before he gripped onto her forearm - the synthetic one - and pulled her out of bed. When her bare feet touched the cold, linoleum floor, it jolted her awake. A shiver wracking her spine at the chill as she rubbed at her eyes, and stared up at Bjorn. He was close, chest a hairbreadth away. It was the quietest he’d ever been, bright eyes taking her in, as if assessing the state of her. 

A soft sigh escaped his nostrils, and he pulled off his raincoat, throwing it on the small chair opposite her tiny dining table. His head motioned toward the bathroom, and his hand pressed into the small of Sable’s back, guiding her. If she hadn’t been so tired, so… dark, then maybe she would have protested. Yelled at him to get out or leave her the fuck alone. But the truth was, she liked that someone was doing this for her, putting her through the motions. And she liked that it was Bjorn.

Sable didn’t think about the fact he helped her undress, nor the fact that she had worn the same clothes and underwear for what was probably weeks. The concept of how bad she smelled didn’t enter her mind, and Bjorn’s lack of expression didn’t allow her to linger on it. When she was naked, he helped her into the small shower, holding her elbow as she slid down to the shower floor and drew her knees up. Standing up for that long felt too hard.

Bjorn kept his clothes on as he sat beside her, water cascading down her head and torso, onto his shirt. He started with her hair, slowly rinsing it and adding shampoo. His calloused fingers were gentle, tender, a juxtaposition to how filthy his mouth could be with her. The pads of his fingers pressed into her scalp soothingly, and she was pliant, softened by the care he was gracing her with. 

His voice barely above a whisper with each gentle but firm instruction of when she should tilt her head, or lean back. When silence descended between them, he began to rinse the weeks of sweat, and dirt from her skin. Ridding her of every poisonous, painful moment since losing her father. The hot water felt like a warm hug, and it wasn’t until that moment she even realised she needed one. 

‘Navarro and Tyler been takin’ care of the garage.’ Bjorn eventually said, his gaze fixated on scrubbing away the dirt beneath her nails.  ‘They’ll stay there ‘til you’re ready to come back.’ 

The image of her dad’s garage, one of all the projects in mid-repair and half finished engines cracked something open inside her. The tears started falling before either her or Bjorn realised it wasn’t just the spray of water. There would be no more side projects that he’d started with her, no early morning coffee runs where she secretly omitted the sweetener to keep his blood sugar stable. No loud dinners where they bickered because their kitchen was too small to host both of them. No affectionate pats of her head, where he talked about how much she looked like her mother. 

No sad eyes and an onslaught of apologies for having let her get in harm's way - and lost her arm - when she should have been far away from the garage at the age of seven. 

‘He’s gone.’ She said it aloud, making it real. Her chest burst and Sable couldn’t do anything but let out a broken, shattered noise. ‘He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone.’ 

Fear enveloped her, because when would her memories of him begin to fade? When would something clear and vivid in her mind turn into a faded polaroid that she would have to squint at just to pull together an image of him? 

As the sobs wracked Sable’s chest, Bjorn continued to wash away the dirt on her skin, fingers pushing back the wet strands from her face. His thumb lingered on her cheekbone, and Sable couldn’t tell if it was to wipe away the tears or lingering bubbles of soap. She preferred not knowing. 

She continued crying long after the shower. After Bjorn wrapped her in a large towel, and helped her change. Long after he had changed her bed sheets, and sat her down on the dining table while he made her a sandwich. Unable to decipher who he was; the soft domesticity of his actions, the comfortable silence with which he navigated around her. It was as if Bjorn knew exactly what she needed - before she even did. His instructions were always short, bordering on terse, but he was never harsh. She almost pushed away the food more than once, her stomach protesting at the thought of eating, but each time she did so, Bjorn pushed her right back. They weren’t back and forth, until - with a final push - Bjorn finally focused his gaze on her. 

‘You know Im’a stubborn asshole. I can do this all fuckin’ day, princess.’ 

He didn’t avert his gaze until she took a bite. 

As she chewed slowly, grimacing at how stale and bland food tasted in her mouth, Bjorn finally spoke. 

‘When ma mum died,’ he cleared his throat, ‘felt like a couldn’t fuckin’ breathe. Like I was gonna drown underwater.’ 

Sable looked at him then, noting that - for once - he appeared vulnerable, breakable. Those eyes, blue and beautiful and expression that was usually so full of mirth and arrogance, were something else entirely. Something to be coveted, protected. Fragile. He looked fragile. Was that how she looked to him now? 

‘I just wanted to forget she ever existed, so it would stop hurtin.’ 

‘I don’t want that.’ She eventually said. ‘I’m scared of him disappearing. I’m scared that I won’t remember what he looks like.’ She put the sandwich down. ‘I’m scared of waking up one day and not being surprised that he’s gone.’ 

‘That’s neva gonna’ happen,’ he reassured, quietly. ‘I promise, princess.’ 

He motioned to the last half of the unfinished sandwich. ‘Finish it off, and then I'll let ya go back to bed.’ 

Sable did as she was told, unwilling to deny the soft embers of warmth that sparked to life in the depths of her stomach when she finished it, and handed the empty plate over to a winking Bjorn. ‘Good girl.’

Chapter Text

I don't wanna tip toe, but I don't wanna hide

but I don't wanna feed this monstrous fire

‘Oii, she’s awake!’ 

Bjorn’s voice seemed to border on sarcasm, slamming the front door closed. After a week of him, Sable knew the futility of demanding he leave. Yet despite his tone, there was something a little softer beneath it, and she refused to give it a name, because then Sable would have to acknowledge the seeds of warmth blooming in her chest at the sound of his voice. 

He was a little dirty, clearly having just come from a shift in the mines. Sweat and soot clung to his skin and as he pulled off his coat, Sable noted the way his wet shirt wrapped around his biceps. The muscles born from hard, long hours of work were prominent and difficult to ignore. She averted her gaze. 

‘I was hungry.’ She answered, despite what he said not being a question. 

Sable was curled into the corner of her bed, the glow of neon lights beyond her window illuminating her features. She had another sandwich on a plate in her lap, and she could feel the smirk Bjorn was impressively refraining from releasing. He’d made the sandwich that morning. A pre and post-shift visit was routine for him now, making sure she had something in the fridge and trying to rouse her awake. Most of the time, she didn’t. Sleep felt so fucking inviting, allowed her brain to switch off and that endless, dark nothingness in her sleep was far more comforting that the bleak, lonely and painful one that awaited her in waking hours. 

‘How long you been up for?’ 

‘Couple of hours, I think.’ She shrugged, eyes refocusing on the old sitcom playing on her data pad by her thighs. ‘Do you want to shower?’ 

‘If ya offering.’ Bjorn rubbed at his nape, before tiredly running a palm down his at his face. 

Sable nodded to the right. ‘You know where the towels are.’ Considering he’d bathed her almost every day himself, she’d have been surprised if he didn’t.

Embarrassment didn’t flood her veins like Sable thought it would have. Now that some of the fog in her head had cleared, and doing something as simple as pouring a glass of water didn’t feel so … exhausting, she thought that thinking about the fact Bjorn - one of her biggest antagonists in life - seeing her naked and in a state where she was incapable of looking after herself would have mortified her. It didn’t. 

She heard the shower turn on, and rose from the bed. Untangling the sheets from around her ankles, she ventured to the opposite end of the trailer, something Sable hadn’t done just yet. Fear had suffocated her too much until that moment, and it still did. The familiar rock in her throat greeted her as she pulled open a drawer of her fathers clothes, and Sable forced her body to continue moving. To not think too much on the softness of fabric between her fingertips as she lifted a shirt, or succumb to the urge to bury her nose into the fabric and smell what was left of her father. Instead, she pulled out a pair of pants and underwear - all clean - and shut the draw. 

Leaving it by the sink in the bathroom - abruptly ignoring that there was a very naked Bjorn behind the shower curtain beside her - she got back into bed. Body curling around the sheets and pillows, Sable blinked away the tears and let her limp body sink further into the mattress. 

Bjorn emerged clean, and in her fathers clothes. His hair was wet, strands clinging to his forehead, and eyelashes clumped together as they kissed his cheekbones. Christ , he looked gorgeous. It was unfair that someone so obnoxious had a face as pleasing as his. Sable had always thought that about him. 

He didn’t say anything when he came out, not to thank her for the clothing or to ask her a completely innocuous question. She liked that about him. That he knew exactly what was running through her mind, that he knew she’d returned to the comfort of her bed because the act of retrieving her dads clothes had effectively drained any ounce of energy she may have had for the day. 

‘Get’a shower.’ He eventually said, perching on the edge of her bed briefly. ‘I’ll change tha sheets.’

It would be the first time she’d do it on her own, and Sable liked that he was effectively telling her to have one by herself. Like he knew she needed it. That was the first shower she’d taken without crying, and despite how therapeutic it felt to sob beneath the stream of water, she still felt better after having one. Like being awake for longer than an hour, and getting through a shower by herself felt like she’d accomplished a big task. A big deal to no one but her, and perhaps maybe Bjorn. 

He was at her small stove when she came out, fiddling around with some pre-packaged meals he’d gotten her earlier in the week. It was supposed to make meal prepping easier, all she had to do was heat it in a pot. Tonight was spaghetti, with some powdered version of the sauce that became actual food once mixed with hot water. It was a useful meal when the colony went through a year of over population and not enough shuttles were delivering rations. Her eyes cast over the recently made bed; pillows fluffed and sheets tucked in. Sable found it weird that someone like Bjorn was so good at making the bed, she’d always pictured him as the type of person who never made his. Even probably leaving twice worn shirts at the foot of it. 

She’d misjudged so much about him. Then again, that wasn’t exactly her fault. Prior to her dad’s death, the asshole had fully committed to the bit of being her biggest hater. She’d only seen what he specifically chose for her to see. Sable liked both versions, though. 

Silence descended on both of them as they sat at the table, Sable braiding her wet hair, and Bjorn serving up their food. It was comfortable, soothing, even, in what had become a comfortable routine of domesticity between them. She chose not to think about what that meant for them. He gave Sable her plate first, watching her as she took the first couple of bites. She’d already had the second half of the sandwich he’d made that morning, so her hunger was sated, but she knew he wouldn’t rest until she finished her plate. 

It was difficult to ignore how much weight she had lost; the visible prominence of her ribs, the hollow cheeks, her once fitted T-shirts were now just a size too big. She couldn’t ignore how cold her hands had become, either. Like not enough blood was pumping through her veins. Sometimes, when her fingers brushed Bjorn’s, he hesitated, as if he wanted to reach over and take her hands in his. But then he thought better of it, because despite bathing her for a week, despite changing her clothes for her and making her bed and making her something to eat, holding hands for a prolonged amount of time felt beyond the realm of intimate to Sable. She thought that Bjorn felt the same, too. 

Sometimes, when the loneliness got really bad, Sable wished he would.

‘Are you working tomorrow?’ 

Bjorn responded with the shake of his head, mouth full and licking the sauce from his lips. His gaze focused on the plate before him.

‘I was thinking of maybe going to the garage? maybe look at the accounting books just to see how Navarro and Tyler have been doing?’ 

Blue eyes flashed up to hers faster than she anticipated, and for once Bjorn’s expression was difficult to read. If he thought it was a bad idea, she’d never know. Although, Sable guessed he probably didn’t want her to feel like he was forcing her to go back to work. He’d said that it took him two months to eventually pick up a shift after his mom died. Sable has spent three and a half weeks in her trailer.

‘I can let ‘em know we’ll stop by, if ya like?’ 

She liked that he knew exactly what she wasn’t asking. That she needed him with her. Nodding, Sable’s fingers wound around strands of the ends of her hair, knee bouncing as she began to wonder how she’d even talk to Navarro and Tyler tomorrow. Did she start with an apology? A thank you? She’d already decided to pay them for the hours they were pulling to make up for missed shifts at their own jobs. They worked security and maintenance respectively, which meant it was a little easier to get out of shifts. But still, they were all struggling to make ends meet. Least she could do was make sure they were compensated for every hour they poured into her dads garage. 

Shame curdled inside her stomach, and she didn’t realise how relentless her knee jerking was until she felt Bjorn’s calloused hand rest on her bare thigh. Startled, Sable’s body froze, and she fought to ignore the heat that creeped up between her thighs at the feel of Bjorn’s fingertips against her cold skin, and the soft stroke of his scarred thumb on the inside of her leg. 

‘They’ll be chuffed to see ya, nuffin to worry abou’.’ 

There were a million things Sable wanted to say to him then. Like what if they’re not or what if I never want to go back and work there but it all felt too big. Too much of an overwhelming conversation to have and a possible reality to face without feeling her chest tighten and her breathing feeling difficult. So instead, Sable said nothing. She helped Bjorn wash up, and put away the dishes. He sat beside her on her bed for a few hours, chuckling through the show that she let play in the background. 

When her eyes began to droop close, Sable felt a dip in the bed as Bjorn moved to get up. It was instinct, then, that made her reach out for him. That lonely, overwhelmingly sad part of her that had Sable gripping onto the sleeve of his shirt - her dads shirt - that made her stop him from getting off the bed. 

‘Can you stay? please?’ She could feel embarrassed about how small and desperate her voice sounded in the morning. 

The silence was like a chasm between them, despite her fingers fisting the fabric of his sleeve. Bjorn didn’t move, and it was too dark to see his face. She was too tired to bother squinting to gauge his reaction. 

Eventually, she heard him speak.

‘Yeah, ‘course.’ Bjorn’s voice was strained, like when someone spoke for the first time in the morning after the longest sleep of their life. 

Sable shuffled backward until her back pressed against the wall beneath her window, making space for Bjorn beside her. They lay on her pillows facing each other, barely a breath of space between them. Their elbows touched, and the feeling of his soft breaths kissing her skin was strangely soothing. A soft balm to an open wound in her chest. 

Sable wasn’t entirely sure when she fell asleep, but when she did, she was sure that Bjorn’s bright blue gaze watched her the whole time.  

She wanted to fall asleep like that every night. 

The garage was exactly how it always was, frozen in time and completely unaware of the loss of its owner. The ceilings were high and a half built ship was still suspended in the air by ship lifts. An old engine, that Sable and her dad had been hired to rebuild from scratch, was perched at a workstation toward the back. Untouched. 

That was supposed to be finished soon. She needed to get back to work. 

New ships, a ridgeway heavy tank and an ATV vehicle had been rolled in over the past few weeks, and to Sable’s surprise Navarro and Tyler seemed to be in their element. In Westbrook Mechanics overalls and grease stains as they simultaneously worked on one of them.

‘There she is, bossman!’  Tyler called out, smile wide and dark eyes in that perpetual state of friendliness Sable hadn’t realised she missed so much.

’Boss woman.’ Navarro interjected, pulling off the beanie she’d been wearing. ‘Good to have you back.’

Navarro pulled her in for a one-armed hug, the angle awkward thanks to Bjorn’s hand remaining on her opposite shoulder. He hadn’t stepped away, and instead he had felt almost like a shadow to Sable. She didn’t mind it. 

‘Tyler and I have mostly been charging people what was in the system, but that’s as far as we got. The rest didn’t make any sense.’ 

‘Surprise, surprise, none of you can fuckin count.’ Bjorn shot out, and it was the first time in weeks Sable had found him to be wearing a smirk that she’d usually call shit eating . 

‘Big words from someone who just discovered fire.’ Navarro deadpanned. 

Hints of a laugh escaped Sable’s mouth, Her first one in weeks. She felt Bjorn’s fingers tighten around her shoulder, and Navarro’s smile softened in a way she seldom allowed for. Neither she nor Tyler had mentioned a thing about her prolonged absence, nor shared sentiments of sympathy about her dad. It was better that way; making that stab in her chest less likely to knock her off kilter with the sudden mention of him. 

There was an underlying suspicion that Bjorn had probably been the reason for that. Sable tried not to let the gratitude, and something much more tender, swarm her chest. It was one of the many new emotions she felt toward him that she wasn’t quite ready to address.

‘I’ll go take a look now,’ she said, motioning toward the back office. 

‘Jus’ shout if ya need anyfin, yeah?’ Bjorn rubbed her back, and Sable ignored Tyler and Navarro’s probing gazes as her cheeks warmed. Nodding before turning away. 

She spent the next hour holed up in her dads office. Setting up Tyler and Navarro’s employee accounts and transferring them a backlog of payment, then setting them up for weekly payments for the foreseeable future. The whole thing wasn’t so bad. She actually found it to be therapeutic having her mind occupied with accounts and numbers and payments. Orders of parts that were needed and chasing on late payments from existing customers. 

The sound of laughter occasionally echoed from the garage, Navarro and Tyler’s voices, combined with Bjorn’s, filling in every corner of silence and loneliness that Sable had feared would dominate the place. It felt right, normal. As if this had always been how Westbrook mechanics had functioned. 

Maybe she could come back to work more regularly. 

She moved onto the lockers next, making sure she hadn’t left anything she needed to take home when she found it. 

There, hung up on a hook, untouched and dirty as always, was one of her dads hoodies. Manager printed on the back, as if anyone wouldn’t know who he was in their tiny ass colony, and with the same burn marks from having used a welder while wearing it. 

With shaky fingers, Sable reached for it, pulling at the rough, grey fabric until it fell away from the hook. She fisted it with both hands, cradling it to her chest, the crumpled hoody inches away from her face. Pressing her nose into it felt like being pulled into a long, hard hug from him. It had his home scent, the one that lingered all across their trailer because it was just that; a home smell. But there was more, way more than what already existed in his clothes back in his wardrobe. It smelled of the garage, of oil and grease and stale cigarettes that she fucking hated him smoking. Of the shitty deodorant he tried spraying on afterwards to throw her off the scent of his bad habit. 

It smelled of long hours in the garage singing along to old records he loved to play, memories of his grandfather's favourite songs back on earth. It smelled of when he yelled at a customer talking to him like an asshole, or the bitter coffee she brought him in the afternoons that he hated without sugar. It smelled of every time he chastised her for working too late, and of every frown line he ever wore when his gaze drifted to her synthetic arm. It smelled of him . So uniquely, resolutely him and it was already fading. 

The memories were a fraction less vivid, on the cusp of missing fragments that felt integral to her perception of him. It filled Sable with so much fucking sadness and fear that she couldn’t help the large sobs that wracked her chest, muffled by the very hoodie she was desperate to preserve. 

A hand gripped her neck, forcing her to turn around and look up at those god damned eyes that had seen every unsavoury, ugly thing about her in the past month. His face blurry through the tears, and if he had spoken she wouldn’t have been able to hear over her wailing. 

And just like every other time he’d been with her, Bjorn didn’t need an explanation, because he looked at what she was holding and something in his jaw set. 

Bjorn hadn’t hugged her before. Held her up? Yes. Slept right next to her in her cramped bed? Yes. But not a hug, not something that was warm, and safe and comforting. 

He hugged her then, pulled Sable in by the nape of her neck into the curve of his shoulder, hoody between them. His other hand cradled the back of her head, fingers softly caressing her hair, and keeping her upright. Tears soaked his jumper, and her shoulders shook violently, but Bjorn didn’t let up. She felt his lips graze the crown of her head, and it wasn’t until her loud sobs began to settle that she realised he was whispering something. 

Something that was for her ears only. 

‘You’re gonna be okay, darlin. This is gunna pass. I promise it’s gunna pass.’

Chapter Text

Just wanna let this story die, and I’ll be alright

we can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

‘Wha’s all this then?’

Bjorn shrugged off his jacket, trying not to let raindrops litter the floor after shutting the door behind him. 

‘What does it look like? A Christmas tree.’ Sable waved a bauble in the air. ’Duh.’

Once upon a time it was a dark red, shiny, her parents had had since before she was born. They’d brought them over with them when they’d migrated to Jackson’s Star. Since then, though, all the decorations had worn away, paled in colour and the cheap coating had chipped away. it was still cute though, despite how fucking sad it now felt.

‘Dad said my mom’s favourite holiday was Christmas. We decorated the tree every year.’ This time, that all encompassing blanket of sadness didn’t feel so heavy. ‘I think he thought it’d be a nice way to remember her, I guess. Since I never knew her.’ 

The tree itself was tiny, barely twenty centimetres and made of plastic. Sable had placed it on the small dining table, right in the centre like a vase of flowers would be placed. Bjorn came up behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair, and the other on the table. He was curled around her, criminally beautiful eyes roaming over her undecorated tree. 

Something about the way he always did that, orbiting her like a shadow, made her feel safe. Coveted. Cared for. 

He didn’t even seem to think about her arm anymore, considering how often he held her hand.

‘Christ, luv’. If I’m gonna do suttin this depressing with you, I’m gonna need a drink.’ 

Snorting, Sable waved him away. ‘Go shower then, I’ll get dinner ready and a drink.’ 

Bjorn didn’t argue, and instead headed to the same drawer he’d come to use every day. Her dads drawer. She didn’t when it had shifted from ‘her dads’ to ‘Bjorn’s’, but she didn’t mind it so much. Sable found it easier to look at it now, and not feel that stone in her throat when he’d reach for it to grab a fresh pair of clothes. 

Neither of them had spoken about the fact that Bjorn spent every night at her place for the last two months. That they had breakfast together, and dinner. That they shared a bed, and fell asleep side by side, curled toward one another. It had been months since the first time he had spent the night, and for the most part, things had become normal. A comfortable routine formed despite the ache that accompanied her every waking moment. Tyler and Navarro worked at the garage full time, while Sable handled the admin. 

Bjorn worked the mines, and met up with them in the evening. On his days off, he hung out at the garage. It was nice. 

She didn’t think she could ever go back to mechanics, everything about it reminded her of her dad. No amount of time would erase the memory of him in every corner of that place, day after day. Being in the back office three times a week was the most she could stomach. 

Bjorn emerged freshly shower, and clean with unfairly dewey skin by the time she’d made dinner. A bottle of her dads old scotch was on the table.

‘Bloody scotch? The fuck d’ya get this from?’ Bjorn smiled, lifting it to read the label.

‘Dad had one glass a year on his birthday, it was his only bottle.’

His eyes softened when he looked at her, and it was so warm, so tender that she couldn’t believe he once used to look at her with contempt. That felt like decades ago. All Sable could think about was how she could have found something this nice, this safe amidst all the pain and devastation she had endured. It almost didn’t seem fair that she lost one person only to be given another. Someone that had saved her. 

Being with Bjorn felt like coming up for air. When she had been stuck beneath the surface of icy water, freezing her bones and fisting her lungs, before finally breaking the surface with a big, audible inhale. Desperate for pockets of air, desperate for a warm blanket. Bjorn was that air. He was that blanket. 

‘You sure you wanna open it?’ He asked softly. ‘We can just get some cans.’

Sable nodded, forcing herself to smile and ignore the stone lodged in her throat. ‘He’d probably tell me to drink it, considering the circumstances.’

Bjorn uncapped the bottle, holding it out to Sable. ‘Bottoms up, then.’ 

When there was a lull in their chatter, and Sable spent a little too long staring at a bauble, Bjorn’s voice broke the silence. 

‘I’m sorry. When I said that shit about your mum, it was out of order.’ 

‘It doesn’t matter-’

‘Nah, it does.’ He sat up, ‘it’s always gonna matter, and I’m sorry.’

There was a moment where Sable had to pause, look away from the intensity of his crystalline blue eyes. He looked so earnest in that moment, so vulnerable. She couldn’t look at him, because Sable knew she’d do something stupid, like kiss him. 

‘It’s not true, ya’ know. What I said. It’s never gonna be true. Your mum wosn’t yer fault.’

She started when calloused hands cradled her face, and Sable had no choice but to look in his eyes. Her breathing halted, heart stuttering. A flare of something akin to need sparked to life inside her. Sable never wanted him to let her go. 

‘Tell me you know it wosn’t yer fault.’ 

His pupils were dilated, yes somehow that ring of cerulean ice was so fucking overpowering that she couldn’t look anywhere else. Couldn’t breathe, or think clearly. All Sable knew was the roughness of his hands, and how intently he stared at her, as if desperate to hear the words. His breath kissed her skin, fanning across her cheeks and nose. They were suspended in time, like nothing else outside of that shitty old trailer mattered. 

‘I know.’ She said, but it was barely above a whisper. Shaky, and with zero the confidence she wished she had. ‘I do. I know.’ 

He nodded a little too hard. As if he’d needed to hear Sable say it. She gripped onto his shirt, unwilling to admit to herself that she didn’t want to let go of him. Bjorn’s thumbs softly caressed her cheekbones, his gaze tracking every minute detail on her face before settling on her lips. 

And Sable thought, right then, that he was gonna kiss her. Fuck. She wanted him to kiss her. 

She took a shuddering breath then, unable to hold it in any longer, and it broke whatever trance Bjorn had been in. He blinked, over and over again before dropping his hands dramatically. He stood up, and Sable was forced to let go of his shirt as he reached for the bottle again. 

When he handed it to her, that wide, earnestness was gone. A sly, cocky smirk had taken residence instead, and he pointed the bottle in her direction. Goading, playful. Safe. Because, Sable knew, Bjorn wasn’t always the best at showing his vulnerability. 

They’d taken turns swigging from the bottle as she’d decorated the tree, while Bjorn had taken it upon himself to line up his specific choices of christmas songs of Sable’s holopad. They were currently in a century that predated even their grandparents, and yet somehow Bjorn knew every single song that played. 

The drunker he got, the louder his voice became, and Sable couldn’t help but laugh at how his voice lacked any pitch. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that hard. The scotch had warmed her stomach and chest, heating her cheeks up and making her feel the type of merry that made one think you’d never have a bad day ever again. 

‘Come on, luv. Get up ‘ere.’

Sable didn’t protest when Bjorn pulled her up out of her chair to dance, or when he arms wound around her waist to the upbeat festive beat that was playing. Instead, she grabbed onto his shoulders, unafraid of the way he was looking at her as their bare feet stepped in the small space of her trailer. 

Her head swirled, balance slowly slipping away as the liquor consumed her. Bjorn tipped his head back to belt out a particularly popular line, and Sable’s stomach hurt from laughing so much. She didn’t even care about the inevitable headache that would greet her in the morning, or that she’d most likely feel her stomach curl in disgust and unsettle her entire day. She could wallow in bed. 

It was hard to care when Bjorn was smiling as widely as he was, not a scowl or deadpan expression in sight. Through each song, their bodies pressed closer, and Bjorn’s nose would bump into her own through every heavy breath between their singing. The air shifted around them, her mind began to blur, and when a cord in her stomach tightened until it was tense and on the precipice of snapping, Bjorn finally spoke. 

‘Wha’s tha plant they always put above a door? Used to have it as a’ excuse to kiss people?’ 

His forehead was pressed into her own, pupils blown wide and face flushed. The corner of his lips tugged up into something not quite a smile, and not quite a smirk either. She knew what he was asking, and what happened next depended on her answer. 

‘Mistletoe.’ She breathed out, ‘it’s called mistletoe.’ 

His hands cradled her face before he dove in for a kiss, with lips surprisingly soft and a tongue that tasted off scotch, and bad ideas and everything she’d ever wanted. 

Sable didn’t expect him to be so… reverent in the way he held her. His hands pressed into the flesh of her thighs delicately, pushing them apart from his position on top of her. Callused fingers glided up to her panties, thumb brushing over the wet patch of her pussy, making Sable inhale sharply. 

‘So desperate for me, aren’t ya, love?’ Bjorn whispered, lips grazing the underside of her chin before hooking a finger into the hem of her underwear. 

He dipped his fingers inside, pushing through Sable’s folds. ‘ Fuck . Ya so wet f’me. Need my fingers in ya, don'tya?’ 

Sable’s nodding was frantic, and she emphasized her eagerness by tugging on his hair. Bjorn chuckled. 

‘Words, love. Wanna’ hear words.’ 

‘Yes, fuck sake. Yes -’ Sable’s pleas were cut off with a scream, she couldn’t help it. He’d slid two fingers into her, automatically curling them without giving her a second to anticipate it. 

Bjorn’s eyes never strayed from her own, and if she so much as blinked, it seemed to bother him. His other hand pushed her hair out of her face, the pads of his fingers caressing her forehead. He pumped into her slowly, taking his time with her as if to savour every minute reaction on her face.

With his thumb circling her clit, tortuously slow and igniting a match in her pelvis that slowly grew, Bjorn’s muddle of words eventually made little sense to her. Sable could make out only a few of them, something along the lines of how perfect and tight she was for him. 

Her first orgasm was expected. The way his middle and index finger would slide in and out of her, bending at the knuckles at the perfect moment to rub against that delicious, spongy spot inside her, she could feel him pushing the feeling along. A growing, overwhelming tension beneath her belly button that seemed to coil tighter with each stroke. When his thumb sped up its ministrations, her vision spotted. 

‘Bjorn- I’m close. ’ She dug her nails into his shoulder and forearms, hips lifting to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

‘Come for me, love.’ He sounded strangled, as if he were struggling to keep in control. ‘Need to see it all over ma fingers.’ 

It pushed her over the edge, hearing him need it so bad. It was hot and needy and dirty. Sable’s back arched, hard nipples pushing into his chest as that coil inside her snapped. That indescribable feeling bloomed from her pelvis, all the way up through her body, down to her toes. Her spine locked up, and for a moment her vision whitened. 

‘Fuck, you’re soaked.’ He said, as her slick leaked down his hand. ‘Ya such a good girl fa’me.’ 

His praise made her shiver, and she clenched around Bjorn’s fingers. He chuckled, the sound deep and reverbating from his chest against her own. Watching her body shake from the orgasm. ‘You like that, init? Being ma good girl.’ 

He pulled his fingers out to shove them in his mouth and suck on them slowly. Letting out a pleased hum that made her nipples tingle, and her clit throb. He was so… perfect. Sable was already desperate for more of him. 

‘You taste so fucking good, Sabes.’ 

‘Get your fucking pants off.’ 

Her response was a laugh, but he obeyed her demand. It was the last piece of clothing he had left, having undressed Sable slowly, tortuously, following each loss of clothing with his tongue. 

Sable let him pull her up, until she sat in his lap, straddling him. His cock pressed against her folds, sliding against her clit and turning her on so fucking much that she couldn’t help but rock into him. Bjorn’s groan was low, controlled. He was doing so much better than her, she had no idea how he wasn’t losing his damn mind like she was. 

Bjorn pushed her hair out of her face, wetting his lips as his blue irises roamed over her flushed face. Down her clavicle, and over her breasts. His hands softly followed his gaze, the pads of his fingers leaving an invisible trail of fire on her skin. Somehow, Sable knew no one else would ever make her feel this way. 

‘You’re so fucking beautiful Sabes.’ He whispered. ‘Fuck, just so beautiful.’ 

Something in her warmed, his words crawling into her hollow chest and spreading over the emptiness. Every dark crevice inside her became filled with him. 

Slowly, she slid herself down onto his hardened cock, a strangled gasp escaping her. He was so fucking big, and he filled her up so overwhelmingly that she couldn’t help but rest her forehead against his shoulder for a moment. Collecting herself. 

‘I- I can’t’ she panted, ‘you’re so- so big.’ 

‘Really doin wonders for ma’ ego right now.’ He chuckled, gripping onto her hips. 

She could feel everything at this angle, and when she eventually braved the pinch of pain to reach his pelvis, Sable had to stop again. Take a minute to collect herself, because she could feel him everywhere. Right where she needed him. It’d barely take any time at all to come when the ridges of his length were pressed up against all the right spots like that. 

Bracing herself on his shoulders, Bjorn helped her rise up by gripping onto her thighs. A grunt escaped his clenched teeth as she slid back down. ‘Christ, you’re gonna make me a two-pump chump.’ 

He let out a loud groan when she laughed, unintentionally clenching around him with each chuckle. 

‘That’s it, love.’ He encouraged, helping Sable rise and fall, letting her find her own pace. ‘Ride my cock, make yaself come. Need to see ya come.’ 

It didn’t take long at all in that position, Sable’s swollen clit rubbing against his pelvis and helping the gradual climb of her orgasm with barely any effort. His thick, engorged tip pushed up against her walls, hitting the perfect spot until it pushed her over the edge and an array of - what she could only describe - as fireworks ricocheted inside her. 

‘Fuck, I’m coming Bjorn. I’m coming.’ She screamed, hands wrapped tightly around his shoulders, spine locking up. 

‘You look so fucking pretty when you come.’ He panted, before his hands wrapped around her waist tightly. ‘My turn.’ 

He lifted her without warning, and Sable’s back collided with the mattress as she fell back, legs still wrapped around his waist. He pulled one away, placing it over his shoulder as he rammed back into her with a grunt. A scream erupted from her throat at the sensation, and it felt simultaneously jarring and good . 

‘Fink you got one more for me, love?’ He taunted, spreading her other leg out widely as he began pumping into her. ‘Need to see you squirt all over my cock.’ 

His grip was bruising, holding her thigh against his torso while his other hand pressed into her lower stomach. And fuck, did that do something to her. It was like he knew exactly where her spot was, and that flattening his palm onto it would help push it up against his cock. She was too sensitive, too raw, too well sated and tender from his cock already.

‘I can’t take- Bjorn- I can’t-’

‘Yes you can,’ he encouraged, ‘I can already feel ya cunt strangling my cock. She needs to come again.’ 

His flattened palm pushed down, and Sable couldn’t help the strangled scream that ripped her throat as he picked up the pace. His fucking becoming hard, relentless, unforgiving and yet so rewarding. When his thumb started to rub her clit, Sable’s limbs locked up, and her fingers released their iron grip on the sheets to dive into Bjorn’s hair. 

‘Bjorn- I’m gonna co- I’m- FUCK!’ 

‘Thas it, nice and loud for me, love.’ 

Her orgasm burst like an explosion of light, electricity fizzling through her veins and up her spine until Sable could have sworn she was seeing stars behind her eyelids. Her vision blurring, fingers tightening on Bjorn’s scalp as her walls seized around him. Bjorn followed quickly after her, spilling himself inside her with her name in his mouth and crashing his lips on her own. 

‘Beautiful,’ he whispered, still inside her and reverently caressing her cheeks. ‘Fucking beautiful.’ 

Their breaths evened out in tandem, foreheads pressed together as Bjorn stayed on top of her. She didn’t want him to slide out of her, leaving her empty. She liked how entwined their were in that moment, connected in a way she really didn’t believe would feel right with anyone else. She might have been drunk, they both might have been drunk, but everything in that moment felt right, perfect. Like they were exactly where they were supposed to be; together. 

Eventually, Bjorn slid out of her, dragging himself out of bed to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom. He cleaned her up slowly, with a gentleness that belied the fact his mind was a mess from an ungodly amount of scotch. When he was done, Bjorn pulled her close, pressing his lips into the crown of her head. It was warm, perfect. Sable’s head fit perfectly into the curve of his shoulder as she fell asleep. 

In the morning, Bjorn was gone.