Spoilers for the Thieves Guild quest line. I do not own anything.

He didn't mean to get distant, he really didn't. It was just...hard to get work done when she was around.

Now that Mercer was dead, the heavy weight of managing the Guild fell on Brynjolf's shoulders. He didn't realize how much work had to be put into making sure everything ran smoothly. Vex and Delvin were big helps by managing the small jobs, but someone had to find the jobs, wiggle around and peer into the holes left by the unsuspecting. These holes were their way inside and Brynjolf had to work so not to miss any.

It didn't help that his heart refused to settle down when she came in the room. His steady pulse rose to beat loudly in his ears when he heart the soft clink of her distinct steps. Proud, confident, but with a slight limp from where an arrow pierced and jarred the delicate bones in her knee. The accident gave her stride an uneven beat, but it never hindered her. Nothing seemed to ever hinder her.

Brynjolf shook his head at his thoughts and stepped back from the ledger he was writing in. His dominate hand fiddled with a leather strap on his uniform as he checked over his numbers for mistakes. He groaned seeing mistake after mistake in his sloppy work. It would take an hour to fix all his mistakes. That was why he pushed her away. He couldn't work properly when he was merely thinking of her.

The Nord slumped into the wooden chair and buried his hands in his hair. Holding a bright strand between his fingers, Brynjolf frowned. He would gray early if he could not get his stress under control. No wonder Mercer was always so grumpy.

He leaned back in the chair and listened to the lighthearted chatter of the newer recruits. Vipir and Sapphire would end up together, something in his gut told him so. Brynjolf smiled at the thought of a Guild wedding, but his joy was quickly replaced by bittersweet thoughts. He wanted love too, but that seemed like a lot to ask.

A door opened and Brynjolf heard the clunk of a silent pair of boots. If he didn't know what to listen for, he would have missed the light trod, accented only by the slight misstep of an injury.

Brynjolf's heart shot up to his throat and he had to consciously shove it back down. He focused on keeping his breathing even and ignoring her. The ledger recaptured his attention but the numbers crossed and blurred and didn't make sense anymore. So much for getting any work done.

The book slammed shut with an echoing thud and all the recruits looked towards their leader. Brynjolf ignored their stares and climbed the ladder to get out of the Cistern.

He pushed the trap door up and slammed it down. He caught a wisp of the Guild Master's words when it shut.

"He must really hate me."

. . .

Brynjolf slumped down on the stairs next to the cemetery. His fingers tangled into his hair and he rested his elbows on his thighs. He found himself in this position often as of late.

When had things changed?

When he picked her up in the beginning, her ragged tunic hung off her body. Her bare feet were cut up and she looked like she'd crawled back from the dead. Blood and dirt were caked on her hands and her hair was cut short and uneven, as if done by a knife in one swoop. In short, she looked awful.

Brynjolf saw past her appearance though. A certain element was present in her eyes. Even in her state, she still smiled and looked around with a child-like wonder. The wonder never faded.

Convincing her to work with them was easy. She seemed excited to steal, like it was a natural thing to steal on request from a stranger. Brynjolf didn't question it, it wasn't his place. Besides, he had more important things to do.

She didn't ask many questions. He couldn't decide if that was a bad thing or good thing. She was eager to jump in, and often failed because she never asked for help. Her learning style was trial and error. To everyone else, it seemed stupid, but it worked for the lass. She became a good thief by learning from experience. Her attitude stayed the same throughout her journey. Small jobs, big jobs, betrayal. It didn't matter, she smiled and worked no matter what.

Earning trust and respect was easy for the lass. Brynjolf found himself putting off his duties to be around her. Working for the Guild seemed to be good for her. She fitted herself with some armor once coin started to flow and her hair grew out. She put on weight and filled out her armor more like a woman from Skyrim would. Brynjolf appreciated that along with the other men in the Guild. The life in her eyes spread to her whole body as she found her niche in the Guild.

When he found out Mercer had betrayed the Guild, the Nord grasped the woman's arm for support. His body shook but she stayed strong. Stayed solid for him. Even though he shook with anger, heat spread through his body when he touched her. She was his constant. Her presence kept him calm while he learned of Mercer's treachery. She was there when he pledged his soul to Nocturnal, and when the went to kill Mercer.

Killing the old Guildmaster seemed impossible. The Dwemer ruin was huge, Brynjolf's hopes diminished seeing it, but his companion assured him it was fine. Her stride was silent, but confident as the Nightingales picked their way through the oppressing silence of the ruin.

She killed Mercer quickly. He could tell by the way she hesitated to move away from his body that she took no pleasure in killing him. She wasn't a killer. That fact was written in the way she walked after he hit the ground.

There hadn't been much time to dwell on that fact before the trio had to flee the ruin through a hole in the roof. Once out of danger, the Nightingales briefly spoke. The woman only nodded, politely listening to Karliah, then leaving the cave as soon as possible. Brynjolf followed, watching her walk away from the place that would forever serve as Mercer's grave.

She knew Brynjolf was following her, and made no attempt to ignore him. Instead she turned to him and her face crumpled. He stepped forward and she pressed her face into his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and waited until she calmed. He tried to ignore his heart and the twisting of his stomach as he held her. It would be so easy to break down, but he had to be strong for her, for once. They stood until she calmed but he did not release her. She turned her face up to look at him, but did not smile. His heart leapt into his throat and Brynjolf swallowed hard. He bit the inside of his cheek as a reminder to keep his eyes forward.

"Brynjolf?"

He looked down. The best mistake he ever made.

She kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm. Everything the Dwemer ruin wasn't. Tightening the grip on her waist, Brynjolf reciprocated. A dam broke and all the passion, love, hate and stress that had built up poured into the kiss, intensifying it.

Brynjolf didn't regret it. He thought of the kiss often, probably too much. The feeling of her lips on his haunted his dreams.

. . .

Hearing the grating of the secret entrance jarred Brynjolf from his thoughts. He placed a hand on his hot face to hopefully mask his flush. He made to leave, but sat back down when it was only Delvin coming out. After years of working together, the Breton and the Nord understood each other well. Delvin had something to tell him, and he couldn't wiggle out of it.

Delvin sat on the stairs next to Brynjolf with a grunt. "She really thinks ya hate her."

Brynjolf but back a wince at his words. He didn't hate the lass.

"She thinks she did something wrong. Poor lass is too scared to come talk to ya about it."

The fire-haired Nord raised his hand to tell Delvin to stop talking. The Breton fell silent for a moment before shaking his head.

"She asked me to talk to ya. Wants me to find out what's been bothering ya."

Brynjolf prepared his usual excuse, "I got important things to do..."

Delvin cut him off, "I've heard that one before. What's the real reason?"

Brynjolf sat in silence for a moment. He drew in a long breath before responding, "It's...hard to get work done when the lass is around."

"Aye," Delvin replied in understanding, "So you're taken with the lass."

A flush crept up Brynjolf's neck at Delvin's words. Shaking his head, the Nord ran his fingers over the jagged scar on his face. "Del...that's not the reason."

"Then what is? The whole Guild knows ya been avoiding her."

"Nothing!" Brynjolf's voice rose in pitch.

Delvin scoffed and grew quiet. Then men sat in awkward silence for a moment. Delvin spoke again, but softer, "If you're not careful, Bryn, someone else is gonna get her."

Brynjolf's fists clenched. His breath hitched when he inhaled. The Breton gave him a knowing smile.

The cold Skyrim night wrapped around the two men. A quiet understanding began to blossom in Brynjolf's gut. It explained a whole lot. Why he couldn't focus, his worry for her, and why his heart wouldn't behave. Why it was so easy, but so hard to be around the lass.

He loved her.

Widened green eyes met understanding brown and the Nord stood. A sudden urgency filled Brynjolf's body and he went to the secret entrance.

Looking back at Delvin, the Breton smiled.

. . .

"Guildmaster?"

The woman peered lazily at the Nord over the rim of her tankard.

"I need to talk to you, lass."

Without speaking, she nodded to the chair next to her at the bar.

Sitting, he pulled his chair closer to hers until their knees almost touched.

"Lass..." Brynjolf paused, "Vekel, take the night off." Satisfied with the now empty room, he continued, "I'm sorry."

Sputtering, the woman put her tankard down, "Sorry? You've been avoiding me for weeks and you're sorry? Come on, Bryn. I want to know what I did that offended you so much that you couldn't talk to me." When he didn't answer she continued, "Is it because I kissed you? Then forget it."

It was Brynjolf's turn to scoff. "Forget it? It's all I've been able to think about! I haven't been pushing you away cause I regret it, but because it's hard to focus when you're running around wearing grin and telling your infamous stories!"

The Nord stared the woman down, not even looking away when his ears pinked. His eyes softened when she sighed and opened her mouth to speak. However, instead of a reply, she kissed him on the cheek. Her lips tingled from his rugged beard causing her to smile. The Nord sat in a tensed silence, and the woman sighed again. When she made to stand, Brynjolf caught her forearm.

With a grin of his own, he pulled her down and kissed her.

Pulling back, he whispered in her ear, "I've been meaning to do that for a while now."

When he pulled her back for another kiss, she pushed him back. "Sorry lad, I've got important things to do. We'll speak again another time."

With a widening grin, the Guild second pulled her back and kissed her again. "It is another time."

There, I did it. I jumped on the banddragon and wrote Brynjolf story. Hope you liked it!

Let me know if you guys have any requests! Thanks for reading!