Nate managed to get his shirt up around his ribs before he started huffing in pain and squirming. Elena watched him struggle with his wet clothes until pity got the best of her and she decided an intervention was required.

"You want help?" she asked, frowning at the tangle of blue Henley wrapped around Nate's arms.

He gave her a grateful look and nodded in defeat, and she grabbed Sully's army knife off the bench.

"Whoa, what—"

"I don't think you can lift your arms over your head to take that off," she explained, moving towards him and trying to brandish the blade in a non-threatening way. "Plus, I think that shirt is done for."

He eyed the knife in her hand for a doubtful moment, then relented with a shrug—which he immediately regretted, judging by the pained look on his face.

"Hold still," she ordered, and began to cut the fabric away from his arms. Without all the blood and the sweat and the rips, it really had been a nice shirt, and he'd looked good in it.… she'd have to buy him a new one.

He watched her cut the shirt away from his skin, trying to hold as still as possible; with the amount of gashes covering his body, Nate was still recovering from a run-in with some kind of blade.

Again. Hopefully for the last time.

The shirt finally fell away with her help, and he let his arms fall back to his sides—giving her an unadulterated view of his injuries.

"Jesus, Nate," she whispered, trailing her fingers over the deep purple and red bruises covering most of his upper body, accented by long, thing gashes and deep, short cuts. It was like he had layers of bruises and scrapes on his skin, ranging from weeks old to painfully fresh all piled on top of one another.

"Those are Nadine," he said, pointing to the bruises at his ribs. "Some are from Rafe, some are bullet grazes, or rocks, or…." He trailed off when he saw the look of horror that must have been clear on her face, and his expression softened. "Hey," he murmured, and put a finger under her chin to force her gaze up. His eyes were fiercely blue in the dim light, and stood out especially against the blood and the sunburn covering his face. "I'm okay."

She clenched her jaw and nodded, grabbing a hold of his bicep—one of the few places that wasn't covered in bruises or cuts. "Yeah," she whispered, not really convinced. "Yeah."

"Really," he said, and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'm okay." She went willingly, pressing her face into his shoulder and bringing her arms up to hug him, as gently as she could manage. She was banged up too, but not nearly as bad as he was.

Her nose skimmed his collarbone, and she drank him in. His skin was tangy with dirt and sweat, but it was Nate, and so very welcome after several long, solitary weeks apart. Even their phone conversations had left her feeling distant—she knew why now, of course, but since they had that cleared up….

"I missed you," she said into his ear, and his arms tightened around her.

"I missed you, 'lena," he responded, and she felt his cheek rest on the top of her head. "God, I missed you so much." She grinned into his skin, and dared to press a kiss against his shoulder.

"You need a shower," she whispered, and felt him vibrate with tired laughter.

"So do you," he whispered back.

Her fingers trailed gentle circles over his shoulder blades, and she hummed low in her throat. "Maybe we can work something out."

He pulled back enough to giver her a surprised look—clearly, he wasn't sure where they stood yet. Truth be told, she wasn't totally clear either, but right now she was tired and feeling the miles between them more than ever, and he was here with his shirt off and looking way too attractive for his own good, bruises and all.

Apparently he'd been doing some appreciative staring of his own, and their eyes met after a silent moment of mutual ogling. "I love you, you know that?" he said finally, giving her a tentative smile, and she smiled back.

"Yeah, I do," she replied, which made him laugh again. Encouraged by her response, he stooped down to press his mouth against hers, and her arms went from his back to wrap around his neck. This kiss was more thorough than their moment in the cave, and a lot less rushed. No stupid brother to rescue, no army to sneak around, no waterfalls or falling rocks to avoid….

Nate's hands found their way to her waist, his fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. She had a gloriously open expanse of skin to content herself with, as long as she kept her touches gentle. The space between them quickly evaporated, and Nate's back was shoved up against the interior of Sully's plane. Her hands wound into his hair, pulling him hard into her, and he groaned into her mouth when her tongue teased at his lips.

"Jesus, you two, a get a room," Sam's voice cut in, sounding indistinct and far away and immediately annoying her. It took her a couple seconds too long to disengage, and she saw that Nate's face mirrored her current mood when she pulled away.

He glared at his brother, who was grinning over the co-pilot seat in the cockpit and actually eating popcorn, probably ancient and dug out from Sully's dashboard.

Nate said something rude-sounding to his brother in Spanish, who replied in kind, but turned around after a smug moment.

Elena took that time to catch her breath, and raised a brow at Nate. "What did you say to him?"

"Told him to mind his own goddamn business," he said, and she laughed. He grinned at her, and skimmed his mouth over hers. She wondered if he'd continue their impromptu makeout session—something she was completely fine with—but Nate reluctantly disengaged when the movement hurt some injured part of his body.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat and putting some space between them before she did something improper. "We should get you a change of clothes." Elena indulged thoughts of Nate stripping down in the cramped space of Sully's plane before sighing and moving over to their bags. Nate followed after her, his hands still skimming her hips and keeping some form of contact between them. She pulled out a sweater and went to hand it to him, then hesitated when she saw how dirty he was.

"Maybe... you should shower before changing," she amended. "I'll get you a blanket instead."

"You know," he began when she turned around to put his sweater back, and she felt him pull her waist snugly against his. "Your clothes are looking pretty dirty too."

She grinned and bit her lip, leaning into him and standing up straight. He immediately snaked an arm around her and pulled her flush to his chest, then grunted when the movement disturbed his bruised ribs. "I'm sure the blanket is big enough for the both of us," she suggested with a raised brow.

"Excellent idea," he whispered into her ear, and she was about to turn around to kiss him again when Sam began mouthing off behind them, and Nate lost focus to argue with his brother over her shoulder instead.

Elena sighed and moved away to dig out an emergency blanket. It wasn't like they could take their post-adrenaline sexual tension anywhere in Sully's prop plane, and intellectually she knew they really needed to talk, but still.

Right now, though, she contented herself with snuggling close to Nate on the bench wrapped up in an itchy blanket. He quickly fell asleep, his head resting against hers, and she followed him not long after. The sleep wasn't all that comfortable or restorative, but it was the first time in over a month that she was sleeping with Nate next to her, and that was enough for now.