Both women groaned as they lifted the armor cuirasses over their heads and set them down. Rebecca slumped against the breakfast bar between the living room (and wood stove) and the kitchen while they waited for the pot of water on it to get hot enough to bathe with. She really hoped that they weren't leaving the next day, based on what she'd learned about the ride comfort in the fairly spartan Humvees.

Sam nodded when Rebecca voiced the sentiment, and gingerly lifted the hem of her black shirt. She'd guessed correctly — there was an inch wide, three inch long vertical contusion ending just to the right of her navel. She winced as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and the hiss of air through her teeth drew Rebecca's attention just as Sam was peeling the shirt off over her head.

"Oh shit, Sam...ouch." Sam got her head free and eyes open just after she felt Rebecca's hands settle on her waist, warm palm against her on one side, hesitant fingers tracing around the edges of the bruise on the other. "I got you good. I'm sorry."

She looked into Rebecca's hazel eyes less than a foot away. "I'm pretty sure your leg looks about the same."

Rebecca's words remained fretful. "Maybe, but I don't think it's as bad. It doesn't ache as much now, and it was just a swipe. This... I got you pretty good."

Sam wasn't... mad, but something feral still had her blood up. She felt another primal surge as she felt Rebecca's breath against her face. She let her eyes linger, lifted an eyebrow, and whispered as enticingly as she could manage. "Make it up to me."

Rebecca grinned lopsidedly and chuckled as she stepped in closer. "You ask so much." She kissed her softly at first, but as Sam clutched handfuls of her shirt in twisting fists and pulled her tight, she got the message and seemed to agree. Sam's grunt as Rebecca pressed her against the wall quickly changed to a soft moan into her lips, and their kissing grew more urgent. They'd been intimate the night before, but they'd been tender, romantic. This was... hungrier. They were both sweaty, a little smelly beneath their deodorants and the lingering scents of perfume and lotion from the night before. Sore and tired. But somehow that just added to the moment, like the exercise and competitiveness had stirred up more than one kind of appetite to be sated in its wake.

Sam pushed Rebecca back away from the wall and tugged her towards the couch, pivoting to guide her into it then sit on her lap as they ran their hands over each other, through their hair, kissing and necking with trace hints of the same aggression from a half hour before. She could already tell she would have at least one of a sweeter, more enjoyable kind of bruise where Rebecca laid into her neck, and was determined to leave a few marks of her own before they were done. If they were going to be seeing Cat soon, she might as well mark her territory. She seemed to respond well to shows of strength, respecting Sam's claim on Rebecca more when she made a show of it. So be it. The thought of a perceived competitor Sam felt mildly threatened by blew a fresh heat into her smoldering lust, and her hands quested for the bottom edge of Rebecca's sweat-dampened shirt.

By the time they'd both run out of steam, resting their heads against the back of the couch with a shared blanket loosely around them, the water pot was boiling and clattering its lid energetically. How metaphorically appropriate, Sam thought.

**

They'd mixed the hot water into a larger bucket to balance the temperature, and then ladled that over themselves in the bathtub with washcloths to get clean. Sam lounged on the couch again, eyes closed with a slight smile on her face, while Rebecca worked with the handful of eggs Leonard had brought by that morning, combining them in a pan with the rice they'd set boiling in another pot when they took the bath water off the fire.

She'd never do Mr. Tse's legacy justice, in fact he might cringe at the Sriracha she was using. But, they could use the complete protein after the workout(s), and Allie's pressure-canned carrots and the commercially canned peas weren't just for flavor and texture. They'd probably run out of vitamin supplements some day, so if they could avoid going blind and getting scurvy during the winter without using them constantly, so much the better.

Sam's stomach growled as Rebecca put the refilled water pot back on the fire, then brought dishfuls for both of them over to the couch. "Oh god, yes, bring me replacement calories."

Rebecca chuckled as she settled next to Sam again, letting their knees rest against each other. "Good thing we had all that pasta last night, before all the exercise, right?"

Sam looked up from blowing impatiently on a spoonful. "You know the way to my heart is through carbs. Between last night and today, this is probably going to be the best we've eaten in weeks. I guess it's been a good twenty-four hours." With that, she shoved a large mouthful in and closed her eyes again in contentment as she chewed.

"I'd like to think there've been some other nice things too." Sam half-choked at the innuendo and frowned at her timing disapprovingly, downing a swig of water from a steel bottle.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully — simple fare, but warm and filling, leaving them in a pleasant haze of food coma, afterglow, and quiet conversation until Christine rapped on the door and announced herself, using an extra key they'd given her to enter at their invitation. Rufus followed on a slack leash, returning from his time spent visiting with her and Patrick.

"Hi friends! Oh, it smells good in here. What was for dinner?" The cheerful curly-haired blonde unclipped the leash from Rufus and coiled it on the counter, perching halfway onto one of the bar stools.

"Apocalypse fried rice," Rebecca replied.

"Sounds spicy! Oh, hmm... appropriately so, I see. I was going to wish you a good night but it seems you've already been having one."

Rebecca was puzzled until she saw Sam tilt her head to emphasize the small red mark standing out from the sparse freckles at the base of her throat. Sam quirked an eyebrow suggestively, then glanced pointedly down at Rebecca's neck.

Rebecca self-consciously put her hand up, and sure enough, there was a slightly tender spot just below her ear that she didn't specifically remember getting. Sam nodded at her with a wry grin as she discovered it, and Rebecca huffed. "Oh, you minx! At least I did it where you could cover it with a turtleneck or scarf."

Then, remembering Christine, she glanced over at the blonde and could feel herself blush. Hopefully it wouldn't be visible in the dim fire and lamp light.

She laughed at them. "Oh, don't worry, Bec. I'm hardly one to judge, you of all people know full well what kind of trouble Patrick and I can get ourselves into!" Rebecca assumed she was referring to the time she and Patrick had been captured by Black Tusk when they'd attempted to abscond to a small hidden safe room for a little privacy.

Chrissie toyed with the collar of her sweater with an impishly reminiscing expression as she continued. "Truth be told, things got a little spicy for us too last night. A nice dinner with friends and a roll in the metaphorical hay, pretty good for a Valentine's Day given the times, wouldn't you say? Oh, I rhymed." She giggled briefly, which helped ease Rebecca's mortification.

Less embarrassed, Rebecca smiled. "Yeah, twice. You're right though, dinner was fun, we enjoyed the company. Maybe board games next time, but with less wine."

Sam raised a hand up to her chest in a gesture of feigned offense. "Hey. Just because you know I have an advantage when it comes to alcohol tolerance and will totally sink your battleship..."

Rebecca shook her head and held up a finger. "Okay, no. Wait a minute. Your freakish record in Battleship, card games, and anything involving math and predictable probability has nothing to do with alcohol."

Sam held her palms up in an open shrug. "Hey. You're the psych major. You should be able to out-fox me on anything with a human strategic element, regardless of what the odds are."

Christine laughed at the spectacle again. "Oh, girls. I can see this is my cue. GOOD NIGHT, you two. Goodnight, Rufus. Thank you for letting us borrow your handsome boy, Rebecca."

Both women wished Chrissie a pleasant evening, and carried their dinnerware into the kitchen. After allowing Rufus a perfunctory lick or two, they washed and dried the dishes and cookware (again, with ladles of hot water from the stove), continuing their mostly-playful argument and banter. It lasted well into bedtime, when they snuggled down into the covers. Rebecca spooned up behind Sam, who nestled back against her and sighed contentedly, snoring softly inside of five minutes.