veryroundbirdfics | Arknights | Hand in Unlovable Hand, Chapter 8

Rating: Spicy
Chapter: 8/28
Characters: Doctor (F), Kal'tsit, Amiya, various others
Relationships: Doctor/Kal'tsit, Kal'tsit/Theresa, Theresa/Doctor
Summary: Dr. Lau returns to Rhodes Island a stranger in a strange land, in a labyrinth of things that feel like they should be familiar but aren't—and at the center is Dr. Kal'tsit and all the things she's not saying. Even if amnesia's changed her, though, the Doctor wouldn't be the Doctor if she didn't have an impulse to solve for the missing variable.
Notes: while this fic is marked as "spicy" the only actual sexual content is in chapters 8, 9, 17, 23 and 27, and there's cliff notes for the scenes at the bottom of the chapter. sexual content is noted in the start of chapters where it appears.

You come back to yourself, slowly—focusing on the feeling of warm hands clasping yours, grounding yourself to that sensation.¹ Hands connecting to arms to shoulders to neck. Your fingers tighten a little bit as you force your breath to slow, with deep breaths from your diaphragm.²

It takes a while to realize that the person holding your hands is speaking, too—the words fuzz in and out, but: "...breathe. If you can count with me—up to eight, in. One, two, three..."

That voice is familiar, isn't it? It's definitely familiar, but for now you just follow the instructions. Breathe in to the count of eight. Breathe out, same. Eyes closed. Little by little, drawing out the panic like a toxin.³ Your eyes flutter open a little bit.

"I think... okay. I think I'm... doing... better..." you murmur, weakly, and ease up a little bit with gripping your helper's hands,⁴ thumbs brushing over their wrists—⁵

They stiffen, and you pause to look at them properly, meeting their gaze. Their gaze, those familiar, bright green eyes—

...oh. Somehow, even so, you hadn't expected...

"Kal—Dr. Kal'tsit—" you start, wrenching your gaze down.

She shakes her head, and at least doesn't immediately pull away.⁶ "Are you feeling better?"

"Mm. That... helped, quite a bit," you say. "Ah—well, er. Thank you."

"It's nothing. I'm a doctor."⁷ This time she does start to pull back, unlatching her hands from yours.

"Ah, but—wait—"

It's an impulse and if it had been any other moment you might have thought twice; but you're not really thinking entirely, anyway, so: you lean down to kiss her.

The first surprise is that she doesn't immediately shove you away. The second surprise is when she presses into it, pushing you back against the wall, pinning your hands against your shoulders.⁸

You part your lips into it, trying to breathe out her name in the form of a question, to communicate in some way, something like, I know I don't know what I'm doing here, but do you, and if so, what is it.

She tilts her head up at that, pulls back—mouth drawn into a thin, serious line, looking faintly exasperated.⁹ "It seems I've really got to get this out of my system," she says, sighing.

"Er," you say.

"It's just physical attraction and a need for closure,"¹⁰ she mutters, mostly to herself. "Dr. Lau—"

"Wait. You think—" What is even happening today. You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Hang on, you think I'm attractive?"¹¹

"Not if you keep talking. But—ah. Perhaps this was foolish of me. It's a bad time—"¹²

"Hang on—" Deep breath.¹³ "I needed to get my bearings again, but I think I understand—" You scrub a hand over your face. "There will never be a good time, probably, and—"

You laugh, weakly, before continuing. "Look, I was the one who kissed you."

An odd look crosses her face,¹⁴ and then, after a moment, turns on the ball of her foot and walks a few paces down the hall without saying a word.

And then she turns back to look over her shoulder at you.

"Well," she says. "Are you coming along or not?"

[1] Soothing. Slender hands, but active ones with a light roughness to them.

[2] Every now and then you can feel the slight difficulty your Oripathy gives your lungs—and this is one of those times, although as you start to relax, the sensation recedes to only a little bit of a stitch in your side.

[3] Which, you know, apt, because it felt like you were fucking dying.

[4] You realize, belatedly, to some embarrassment, that you've been squeezing quite tightly.

[5] Half a second late you realize this is maybe a weirdly intimate gesture, but the moment already feels so oddly intimate even though you're losing your shit that it doesn't quite feel out of place at the time.

[6] Honestly surprising that she hasn't already somehow teleported halfway across Rhodes Island as seems to be her way.

[7] You're starting to suspect that half the medics on this landship would say that about any display of kindness or affection. Even so—you're noticing that she looks a little thrown off every time you thank her for things.

[8] Suddenly you have lost the ability to breathe properly yet again.

[9] There's this little upward quirk of her lip when she has that look that is just, honestly, devastatingly attractive to you. And you are suddenly sure that it's going to keep ruining your life.

[10] First of all, who says that kind of thing aloud, and second of all, physical attraction? She can't have said that right. Right?

[11] Is that what you should be fixating on? No. Is that what you are suddenly very fixated on? Yes.

[12] Maybe it's not the best time but a part of you wants to grip her shoulders and go "my life has no good times as far as I can tell and I cannot be a chooser, I am going to lose my mind if you just walk off right now"

[13] You are now starting to panic again but for different and much weirder reasons.

[14] Is she—is she flustered? Is that what she looks like when she's flustered.

The door to Kal'tsit's quarters clicks shut behind both of you and the tension breaks, immediately, you pulling her with you as your back thunks against the wall of the short entry hallway, her hands weaving into your hair, a tangle of limbs discarding clothes behind you as she tugs you down the hall toward her actual bedroom. Jacket shed, pants kicked off, hair falling halfway out of your bun.

"So we were—" you start, and then break off gasping, as her mouth slides away from yours and up your jawline—and she bites down, sucking on the skin as she slides your sweater up over your stomach.

"One condition," she says, breath warm and heavy against your neck. "No asking about the past." A pause. "But—no. We weren't. Not the way you'd think."¹⁵

"Oh. Ah, but—I'd agree to—hh, a lot of things, right now, so—"

"Good," she says, and nudges her thigh firmly between your legs, prompting you to go very briefly weak-kneed and to wrap your arms around her bare shoulders rather than continue unbuttoning her dress.

"Nnh—" You rest your face against her hair¹⁶, the cool strands soft against your skin, and run your fingers over the dense fur of the backs of her ears—and you're rewarded with a sudden little involuntary noise from her, starting in the back of her throat and emerging as a sort of mrrp¹⁷ as she arches against you—

—and then looks mortified. "Don't do that," she says, ears flicking irritably,¹⁸ though she doesn't pull back at all.

For once, you grin.¹⁹ "Cross my heart and hope to die—I won't tell."

She mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "amnesia just made you differently obnoxious,²⁰ didn't it" and, gritting her teeth, finishes pulling your sweater over your head in one swift movement²¹ before peeling her dress off the rest of the way to match,²² and more or less shoving you backwards onto the bed.²³

You make a halfhearted attempt to kind of sit up that doesn't quite make it before she slides onto your lap, straddling your one raised knee, and pins you down by your opposite shoulder.

"Is this doctor's orders for me to lie down—"²⁴

She rolls her eyes, but shuts you up a different way—dragging her free hand between your legs, over the thin fabric of your underwear. "I don't do medical roleplay," she says, dryly, though there's a little flutter in her voice as she grinds against your thigh. "Even I need some time off the job."

You laugh, weakly—"Well, I'm finding I'm not very patient right now, anyw—oh—"

And then if you were going to make any further wise-ass remarks, the window is gone as she nudges fabric aside with her fingers. Your hips buck into her hand automatically, seeking more of her touch, and at least tonight she's having a moment of generosity with that. She drags her fingers up and down, collecting moisture, and she leans down next to your ear and murmurs: "Please shut up,"²⁵ right as she works two fingers inside of you.²⁶

You're rapidly losing any kind of coherence, the harder and faster she thrusts her fingers—her pace relentless.²⁷ Your thigh is slick with her, and she plants her steadying hand next to your head for better stability.

"Kal'tsit—" you breathe, and pull her down against you by the shoulders—her ears flatten for a moment in surprise, but flick back upright a moment later when you catch her in a hard, desperate kiss, gasping against her mouth. "Please—"

She's breathing heavily herself, now, and you pull your leg closer, trying to grind back against her for her release; she makes a quiet little sigh by your ear, and then, cupping your face, murmurs: "Come for me, then."

And really, you couldn't have held back if you tried; you cling to her, face tucked into her neck, panting so hard it comes out like muffled sobs as the climax hits you. You think you hear her make a light, satisfied sigh²⁸, and the fingers of her left hand twine with gentleness that's a little surprising into your hair, preening at your crest feathers until you finally come down from it, exhausted and dozy.

She drops down beside you, into her own space, and reflexively, you turn toward her, reaching for her arm.²⁹

"You should..." she starts, but doesn't quite finish.

"Just—let me stay until morning," you say, eyes fluttering closed.

There's a long pause, and then: "All right," she says. "But don't nod off before you get under the damn blanket."

[15] Wait, does that mean you were the reticent one?

[16] There's the lingering clean smell of shampoo—nothing exciting, but the kind of smell you start to associate with a person, and you're suddenly aware that it's going to be distracting you in meetings for as long as both of you are at Rhodes Island. Maybe for the rest of your life.

[17] Oh no that's so endearing.

[18] That's also really endearing. It's possible you've got it bad for this woman which is probably not going to go great but here you are.

[19] It comes remarkably easily to you, after this week of feeling miserable, exhausted and on-edge.

[20] At literally any other time you'd be vibrating out of your skin to hear something like that but in a way it seems to be a weird sort of roundabout compliment.

[21] This is not precisely discouraging you from being kind of a smartass but you're not complaining.

[22] You note at this moment that she in fact seems to have very nice taste in underwear, rather than the utilitarian you might have expected—delicate lace scalloping over the cups of her bra; lace cutouts in the panties—and momentarily get slightly self-conscious of the fact that you're wearing standard-issue Rhodes Island uniform stuff.

[23] She's definitely stronger than she looks and also that was the hottest thing you've experienced to date.

[24] In a way this situation makes it a little easier to spar verbally with her.
It's not bad?

[25] Honestly, why is it that this is the one time you don't have trouble saying whatever dumbass thing pops into your head.
Actually, medically, it's probably endorphins, based on your catch-up reading for your completely-forgotten medical degree.

[26] At which point your brain kind of skips a track, but in a good way for once.

[27] From the intent way she looks down at you, watching your reactions, there's something clearly satisfying for her in making you come undone. Maybe a way of exercising control in her personal life—maybe something the you of the past never allowed for.
If the latter's true, the you of the past was definitely missing out, fuck.

[28] The most relaxed you've ever heard her, honestly.

[29] There's a little twinge of self-consciousness, like—this really was probably just a hookup for her, right, so maybe you should leave, but... you'd forgotten how tired you were, and your body feels so heavy, now, and—what harm will a little more time do?

At some point you're dimly aware of the warmth next to you fading, the rustle of fabric of someone getting out of bed, feet hitting the floor, but it's quiet enough and you're finally, finally relaxed enough to be able to peacefully ignore it³⁰ and curl up more into the blankets.

Eventually, though, your own watch goes off, signalling that you ought to be awake—you stretch out, trying to figure out if you can squeeze five more minutes out, and then remember... where you are...

...ah.³¹

...not only do you not have a change of clothes, you're going to have to sneak over to your own room to take your medication and clean up properly, which means you're already behind.³²

You pinch the bridge of your nose, and look around for your clothes. It nearly gives you a heart attack to not see them on the floor, but then you realize they're stacked neatly on the desk chair,³³ with a note on top.

Don't touch my stuff. Coffeemaker in bathroom; there's two cups' worth left. Don't forget meeting at 0900.

Ever practical. Though—well, you wouldn't dare touch her things, definitely, but you can't help but be curious to get a better look at her quarters. And one thing in particular catches your eye—

A photo in a frame, tucked behind a few other pictures, certificates, disused desk toys³⁴—but you can still crane your head to see it. It's—

For a moment, your breath catches in your throat. It feels like time slows to the speed of molasses.

The logo painted on the bulkhead behind the group of you is unfamiliar—a tower stretching skyward, with the label "BABEL"—but most of the figures in the photo are ones you know. Closure—mugging for the camera, kneeling next to Lancet-2; a young Amiya, smiling;³⁵ Kal'tsit, serious-faced; yourself, looking surprised to be pulled into a photo at all, and in the center—

...you have no idea who she is, the tall Sarkaz woman with the soft pink hair. But even in the photo, she has a magnetic presence, a hand each on your and Kal'tsit's shoulders, pulling everyone together. The center of gravity.³⁶

You'd ask where she is, but you've gotten the idea by now, when someone in a photo isn't present. There's always just one answer.

...except when it comes to you, apparently. But then again, did Dr. Lau Zhanchi actually come back?

[30] Everything in the world feels gentler. You're preemptively and briefly sad that you certainly can't expect this to happen again, but for now—you'll take it.

[31] Not that you didn't have a great time but you have no idea what to do with this.

[32] At least you already have a reputation for being late and having to spend most of your first meeting of the day shotgunning coffee so people know to set the bar low for your morning wakefulness.

[33] Of course she folded them all tidily. Somehow that tracks.

[34] Almost certainly gifts from well-meaning colleagues that she has absolutely never thought about or used.

[35] Already, you can see the Oripathy lesions forming at that young age—then again, based on what you know about life in Rim Billiton, where most Cautus hail from, it's not surprising.

[36] You can tell: to everyone in the picture, she was the world.

Clean Radio Edit Summary

Kal'tsit and the Doctor were not previously in a capital-r Relationship, although the implication is that the Doctor was the one who was not willing to commit there.
The Doctor was some other variety of "obnoxious" than she currently is, according to Kal'tsit.
The Doctor makes like, really awful jokes sometimes, and Kal'tsit has some control issues but what's new there.
Kal'tsit does cat things sometimes.