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Astrid had fallen asleep in the recovery tent, and had not woken in the walk back to the dorms, save briefly, to murmur a replay to Peyton's question of just where the little Lifer would be sleeping. The elder Creedy had assumed her sister would be sharing her bed for the next week or so, as was tradition at this point, but she'd surprised Pey by asking to be taken back to her own room.

So that's where they'd left her, tucked in comfortably in her own bed, though it was such a deviation from the norm that it left Peyton feeling disquieted as she closed the door to her sister's basement room to find Andy still standing in the hall, waiting for her.

A quick, searching look was turned up his way, before she walked past him towards the stairs. Dismissive, almost, if she hadn't also addressed him. "She's asleep again." If he even cared, it wasn't as if he knew her. Though she thought perhaps he did, even if just a little bit. He was like that, as far as she'd seen. The caring sort. It made it easy to talk to him, easy to flirt, to kiss, to do other things.

But it also made it harder, because she didn't want to hurt him, and she didn't want to hurt herself.

It meant she was still trying to push him away, to regain some manner of distance between them, but her good intentions never lasted very long. For ever stop she made in the right direction, something else came along to send her back two.

Pale eyes glanced back at him over her shoulder, and the look was enough. A silent question of if he was coming. Or maybe even a request. It was unlikely that even she could have said which. Her mind was a jumble of contradicting wants and emotions.

The question was met with a thoughtful silence from the smaller Sun, before she brought her shoulders up in a small shrug. "The the evening, at least. If not, she has a key to my room." If Astrid did wake before morning, Peyton was almost positive stubbornness would keep her from running to the older Creedy. It meant an empty bed and what was likely to be a sleepless night for Pey. Sleepless few nights, more than likely. She swallowed as the sensory memory of her daggers sliding into the clone's neck returned to her.

The brush of warm fingers against her palm pulled her back from it, and she blinked, hand tensing in Andy's before slowly relaxing again. That part of her that was trying to keep the trainee at length tried to push forward, but it couldn't get past the need for a comforting human presence. She let him hold her hand as she led him up the two flights of stairs to the second floor, and down the hall.

Briefly her eyes flicked to the door across from her's, but they didn't linger. Instead the small Sun dug her key from her pocket and slid it into the lock, turning it to let them both in.

Here he'd reclaim her hand, sliding it gently from the tall trainee's grip so she could shrug out of her jacket and hang it on the hook beside the door. Covered in dust and spotted in blood, it would need a very thorough cleaning before it would be acceptable to wear again. As with the shorts she was wearing. Lips pressing together, the girl went for her dresser. "I'll be right back, make yourself at home." A pair of jogging shorts was pulled from the second draw, then she paused, glancing at him. "There's soda in the fridge, or beer if you'd rather have that." It was a bad idea having him up here.

With a small nod, more to herself than to him, she headed for the bathroom at the far end of the studio layout dorm.

Once inside the bathroom the small Sun sank back against the door, head back against the wood as she drew in a deep, steadying breath. Holding it for a count of ten before letting it out slowly. What was she doing? How many times did she have to tell herself this was a bad idea before it sank in enough to stick? He was her trainee. He was her friend's little brother. She didn't want a relationship, everything still hurt.

If there was no connections--if he'd just been some random hunter on the island, not related to anyone she knew, not her responsibility--it would have been easy. She wouldn't have cared what he thought or how he felt. She could have kept the distance she wanted, and gotten what she wanted, giving back only as much as she wanted. God, it was awful, she was awful.

No wonder everyone left.

<You're never alone.>

She flinched, pushing away from the door as she yanked her shirt up over her head and stripped away the bra beneath it. The shorts followed, and the panties beneath.

It was a short shower. Peyton standing under the spray just long enough to rinse the dirt from her body, then she was out, drying off, and dragging on the fresh shorts and camisole. Her hair, still damp after being toweled dry, was left loose around her shoulders.

She avoided the mirror as she went for the door again, and the clothing was left where it dropped, towel joining the pile. The door closing behind her again hid it. The sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed stopped her, and she blinked across the room at him, throat suddenly dry as she took in sweep of his shoulders, the line of his neck. Up to soft lips, set in a soft, puzzled frown, and finally bright blue eyes. <******** class="quote">

He stood, and sudden;y Peyton felt rather close to a deer in headlights as he took a step towards her. Stop. His concern was written all over his face, the set of his shoulders as his hands twitched at his sides. Stop being so nice to me. God, he was so earnest. I'll not good for you..

She almost retreated back into the bathroom and asked him to leave. It would have been the kinder thing to do, the right thing. It would have saved the both of them a fair bit of grief later. Instead, he asked if she was alright, and her resolve broke. Throat suddenly painfully tight, she left the doorway to stride purposefully across the room, dodging wide around the coffee table so she came at him from the side, a small hand on his chest pushing him back until his legs had it the edge of her bed again.

She pushed until he fell back, and crawled up to straddle his lap before his a** had hit the mattress, hands coming up to catch the sides of his face, fingers sinking into thick hair, as she leaned in to catch his lips, stifling anything he might have had to say.

There was no hesitation this time, only a desperate sort of heat as she tipped her head into it, traced her tongue along his lips to beg them to open for her.

This was what she'd wanted. The press of warm hands against her body and the feel lips beneath her mouth. To sink into the feel of him beneath her hands as they slid down the column of his neck and lingered there. Drowning on the taste of his lips. Sensory overload, in the best of ways. A distraction from everything awful that had taken place that day. Like an off switch for her brain, Peyton just didn't want to think anymore. So it was easy right that second to forget that she wasn't looking for romance. That all she wanted from him was his friendship and this, and that that probably wasn't going to enough for him. It was a little white lie that formed at the back of her mind, that she held on to, clung to, because he wanted her and she wanted to be wanted. It would be okay.

The groan sent a thrill down her spine that had her pressing harder against him, nails prickling at his shoulders before her hands slid down his chest to his sides, seeking out the edge of his shirt so she could start drawing it up to pull over his head.

It meant breaking the kiss, but only temporarily. She drew back, breathless, as she tugged at the shirt to force his arms up, and when it was free she tossed it behind her, leaning in once again as her nails trailed in softly stinging lines down his sides. Feverish.

"Andy." She was aware that her cooping mechanisms were flawed. She was aware this wasn't a solution, it wouldn't help, not really. It was a temporary escape from the crushing weight of everything bad and awful and wrong. But she wanted that escape. She wanted to turn it all off, even if only for a little bit, a few minutes, a night.

She was aware. The little voice in her head was screaming, but she couldn't make herself listen to it, not this time. Not when he kissed her with that addictive desperation. Not when he held her against him, as if afraid she might slip away(and why wouldn't he be, it'd happened before). Not when every touch was like an electric shock.

Fingertips low on his sides, tracing the line of his jeans around his waist. Dipping in, just a bit, then pausing as her fingers brushed something that wasn't skin.

Her lips had gone still beneath his, brows furrowed as she rann the tip of a finger along the edge of the thing that was on his hip, and when he drew back, her name a question, she blinked up at him. "There's something on your hip." Something that hadn't been there before.

The quality of his voice though, the way he was looking at her, lent to the assumption that that wasn't the only thing wrong. Licking her lips, eyes sliding to the side as if she could where his hands were resting, she brought her other hand around, slipping it under her shirt and following Andy's arm up to where his hands had stilled. When she felt it she stiffened, eyes widening a touch as they snapped back onto the young man. It felt the same.

"What the hell is that?" That had definitely not been there before today.

Pey leaned back on Andy's lap, giving him room to unfasten his jeans so he could nudge the denim down enough to see the crystal. A moment ago the sight of more skin would have sent her head spinning, and now? Now she stared down at the little touch of blue on his hip was a look of mingled apprehension and resignation.

She blinked when he said her name, calling her attention up to him again, and mention of his weapon had her reaching out to her own as Andy leaned in to tug her shirt away from her skin.

Warrick, what is it? And why hadn't he mentioned it until now? Why hadn't Rex? Did their partners not notice until they noticed themselves?

<Not->

It was all the demon could get out before the little black gem on her back cracked and shattered. Pey felt it, like shattered glass raining down against her spine, and the sensation left her cringing, a unhappy tremor running up the length of her back to send goose pimples in a rush across her arms.