It was quiet in his cabin, enough that his own breathing seemed loud in the dim light of after hours. Every sound pinged at his conscious, dragging him out of any sort of calm he'd manage to settle into. He'd hoped running War Games would have tired him out enough to make sleep come easily, but the moment his head hit the pillow, he knew he'd be doing a whole lotta staring up at the ceiling before he got any relief.

He gave it his best shot regardless, tucking himself in and closing his eyes as a preemptive measure to bring on sleep. Buck tossed an arm over his eyes when his vision lit up a dull pink, frowning at how well even the small amount of light seemed to creep up under his eyelids. Maybe he'd bug Miller for a pair of those eye masks.

And earplugs. If he strained his senses hard enough, he could hear the near-silent creak of Osiris moving around in their adjacent cabins. Or maybe he was just imagining it; steel walls and vacuum-sealed doors didn't let much sound through them, and it could be the ship just settling itself. Either way, he thought he could pick out the movement of feet across the cold floors in the neighbouring rooms, with everyone performing their own pre-bed rituals. Having his own quarters had definite perks, but on restless nights he found that passing conversation with his team helped to relax him.

But he wouldn't bother them tonight. Tanaka was still more than a little standoffish with him, and most of his attempted digs to lighten the mood got nothing more than a confused frown. He'd have to work on breaking the ice with her. Not now, though. She was probably enjoying the peace and quiet away from the noise of Spartan Town. Project for another time.

And he didn't even want to think about what next-level academic pursuits Vale was using her spare time for. He'd learn a high school semester's worth of information just over breakfast talk with her, and he wasn't really looking to challenge his brain with anything more meaningful than scuttlebutt at the moment.

Buck was pondering the merits of challenging Locke to a game of cards at this late hour to chat when his comm buzzed. He unlatched the arm from his eyes to frown down at his watch, and then felt a grin split his face when he saw CALLER ID REDACTED.

"What is cookin', good lookin'?" he said into the comm when he turned on his earpiece, relishing the small space of confused silence that followed. It was probably just input lag with the connection, but still.

"So you're gonna just keep opening with horribly cheesy lines then?" Veronica's voice came through tinny and a little far away as the connection was slow to establish, but he could still hear her smile through the lag and the static.

"That is the plan." He pulled up a picture of her beside the call on his watch while he waited for the line to strengthen. It wasn't often he could video chat with her, so the old photo they took on Acidalia together would have to suffice for now.

"And how do you even know it's me, anyway? Unless you're expecting a call from another high-level ONI operative at this hour?"

"I just hope that it's you. And if it's not, it'll make for a good story later."

"Yeah, not sure how well that would go down." A pause. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No. Can't sleep, actually. And I wouldn't mind even if you did."

Another smile in her voice, and by now the connection was a lot more clear. "Good. Wanted to chat for a bit."

"I'm all ears."

He heard her settle into a chair on her end, a tired sigh escaping her. "Actually if you could just… tell me about your day, that would be wonderful."

"Can't sleep either?"

"Well no, but I'm sure I'd have trouble if I tried right now." Another pause, this one longer. "Hard day. And I was missing you, a lot. Managed to sneak away from work to chat for an hour or so."

He grinned. "We can talk about it if you like. It'll stay strictly between us and the ship's AI," he added, tapping his comm. "Who loves listening in on personal calls."

She laughed, and his heart swelled at the familiar sound. "Tempting, but no. It's—"

"—Classified."

"You know the drill by now. Anyway—" She cleared her throat, and it sounded like she was leaning or lying back on something. "Start with your morning."

He did, going through his day in methodical steps with her. He told her about the team-building exercises Osiris was going through, and how he was still getting used to being part of a team instead of being in charge of one. He told her about the open green space Infinity had in its Atrium, and how he'd seen a few birds flying around on a jog. He told her about kicking ass in War Game sims, and the lucrative side business betting pools made while the games played out.

"Chocolate is the current ticket item," he informed her. "Not sure why; it's not even good chocolate. Just the protein stuff they hand out for snacks."

"Better than portion-controlled Spartan slop though?"

He shrugged even though she couldn't see it. "Depends on the day and how sleep-deprived the cooks are."

"Save some for me anyway. I'm sure you've got loads of it, if your scores are to be believed—"

"—They are totally legitimate—"

"—Because hopefully I'll be able to make a small detour to Infinity to catch up soon."

That got his attention. He looked down at his comm, eyes training on the static image of Veronica he'd pulled up. "How soon?"

"Four, five weeks maybe. I'll have to see how quick I can wrap up work here. Could probably stay a couple days if I sweet talk Osman."

"Not nearly soon enough, then. Jesus, I miss you."

"I miss you too. Private quarters kind of suck when you don't have anyone to share them with."

"Tell me about it. We really need to book a few weeks of leave somewhere. Preferably warm and sunny." He frowned at the empty space beside him; how cold the mattress was wherever he wasn't in direct contact with it. "Bed's got too much room without you in it."

"Not much point to sound-proof rooms, either."

He wasn't quite sure whether her tone or her words were the reason that his brow shot to his hairline, but it intrigued him all the same. "Careful. You're getting into scandalous territory, Captain Dare."

"Don't call me Captain."

His face split into a grin as he felt his blood pressure kick up a notch. "It's gonna be like that, is it?"

"Ed…."

He noticed again how quiet his room was; how every creak or click of the vents seemed horribly loud; and how harsh his breathing suddenly was inside his own head. His eyes fell to the picture that he'd pulled up once more. A photo of them at the resort on Acidalia, lounging on its ruddy beaches drinking hellishly expensive cocktails. The cut of Veronica's one piece drew attention to the curve of her hip, and that's where his focus settled as he slipped a hand under his shirt.

"Where are you right now?" His voice fell to a whisper and his face flared with heat. Dirty texts back and forth while on tour were hardly new with Veronica, and they were discreet enough that he could mostly ignore the reality of how many security personnel must read messages between a Spartan and an ONI officer sent over military channels. This was a whole new territory though, and he was acutely aware of just how not-private their call likely was.

Unless she was using some secure spook link. Which meant she probably planned to have this conversation with him. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"Too far away," she replied, and she sounded breathy. "In my cabin. Alone."

"Don't forget the AI," he whispered back, not able to help himself. Nonetheless, he ran a thumb just under the skin of his nipple. Soft and light, like Veronica would touch him whenever they had the time to go slow.

"Never stopped us from finding a nice hideaway on a ship before."

"This somehow feels more dirty than that."

"I haven't even gotten started yet, Buck."

And god did that ever make him hot. His thumb brushed his nipple, his fingers rubbing over his pectoral. Too big, too calloused—most importantly, not hers. But it would have to do for now.

"What did you have in mind?" Already his voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears, but the sigh he heard on her end of the line left no space for him to worry about sounding too eager.

"Tell me what you're wearing, for starters."

The words momentarily broke the spell, and he grinned to keep back a laugh. "Not very original, is it? I thought a spook would be more imaginative than that."

"Not planning on re-inventing the wheel." There was a shuffle on her end of the line, and he could have sworn it was her taking clothing off. "Besides, aren't you interested in my answer to the question?"

"Oh god, did you just take something off?" His free hand settled on his abdomen, just below his belly button. He hadn't realised exactly how much he'd been missing her until just now; already she'd worked him up enough that he'd be able to finish himself off in little time, but he wasn't looking for the quick relief he'd normally find when he was away from Veronica—which was a good deal more than he'd like. No, he was going to take it slow.

"Answer me first."

God, she sounded breathless. He could picture her, lying in bed with nothing but a shirt on—or maybe just shorts. He couldn't decide which version he liked more. One hand on her leg, waiting, circling, teasing. The other maybe running over her breast, or curled up in her hair, or gripping the pillow like an anchor to steady herself for what was going to come out of his mouth.

"Just uh—just off-duty sleep wear," he breathed, suddenly feeling shy. "T-shirt, pants. I can lose those, though."

"You're behind already then."

"Fuck, what did you take off?"

"Now who's the one being unoriginal?"

"Jesus, don't hold out on me, Veronica." His hand migrated south, fingering the elastic of his pants as he wondered again how to pace himself. He was already uncomfortably hard, and he had no illusions about how long he'd last with Veronica whispering breathlessly into his ear.

"My pants were in the way," she murmured, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest as he decided that he did like the image of her in just a sleeping shirt better. "Take off your shirt for me."

He tried his best to keep from scratching the receiver at his ear as he pulled his shirt over his head. Buck didn't even watch where the shirt landed—his head hit the pillow hard, and he finally allowed himself to slip a hand into his pants. His fingers danced around the base of himself, and he was torn between the ache of relief and the need to drag this out for as long as possible.

"Now we're even," she said, a hint of humour in her voice.

"So what's next?" He didn't even care how desperately eager he sounded, or try to hide the moan he bit back as he wrapped a hand around himself.

And now a low laugh that somehow served to turn him on even more came from her end. "I can't do all the work, Ed. You tell me."

"Best practice is to leave you in charge," he joked, but it fell flat with how hoarse his voice was. "Are—are you touching yourself?"

"Where do you want me to?"

His heart was surely about to burst from his chest. "Your breasts," he whispered, powering through the dwindling reservations he had about phone sex. "Around the nipple, in circles, like I know you like it. And the freckle you have, just at the side, under—"

Her breathing made him pause at how harsh it sounded, like she was running. "So much better when it's your hands and not mine," she murmured, sounding so close to him that if he just turned his head, he was sure she'd be there beside him.

"Oh God, I know," he said, giving himself a tentative stroke. The resulting sensation made him groan, and he bit his lip at how loud it sounded in the emptiness of the room.

"Sounds like you're getting ahead of me."

"Thought you said I was behind." Another stroke, and this time he forced himself to be quieter.

"Your legs," she continued, swallowing loudly. "The spot on your inner thigh that gives you goosebumps when I kiss it."

"Dunno if I'm that flexible."

Veronica ignored his joke. "Touch there with your hand." She paused. "Nowhere else."

He released the grip on his cock and moaned at the resulting burn deep in his belly. "You're going to kill me," he muttered, but did as she said. His own touch didn't have nearly the same effect as her mouth did, but his nerves were excited enough to make his spine shiver with the sensation.

"And you give vague instructions." She moaned then, low and soft and clear as a bell in his earpiece.

The image her words conjured up were almost enough to get him off on imagination alone. "That's not fair," he answered, wincing at the insistent throb of his cock. "I didn't know the rules."

"I'm making them up as I go. Touch your chest," she added with a quick breath. "Under your nipple."

"You're pretty good at this… considering we've never done this before." His free hand reached back up to his pectoral, making him shiver again. "Unless you have a habit of calling up other Spartans and talking dirty to them."

"You mean you don't spend your free time thinking about how well you know how to get me off?"

"Fuck, Veronica…."

"That's the plan."

"Come on," he said, biting the inside of his cheek. "Give me more to work with. I'm so hard it hurts."

"Oh God," she breathed, and he heard the subtle movement of her hand between her legs pick up on the comm. "Eddie—"

"Slow down," he groaned. "Hands… hands above your waist."

"You can't be serious." She sounded dangerously close to pouty, and his mouth curled upwards.

"Fair play. Hands off."

He heard her gasp, but the movement of her hand sounded like it had stopped. They lied there for a moment in silence, her uneven breathing and uncomfortable shifting on the sheets the only thing he could hear.

"Tell me," he murmured, fingernails digging into his thigh. "Tell me how much it hurts."

"I'm on fire," she whispered into the comm. "My whole body is throbbing. God, I need you, Buck."

"Veronica, I can't take this," he moaned, his hips shifting on the bed in search of relief. If he rolled them upwards, he could run the material of his pants over his cock, and he was this far gone that a few minutes of that would probably be enough. "Please… please just—let me."

"Let you what?"

"Touch myself."

She laughed a breathless, near-silent laugh. "There's a lot of places you can touch yourself. Tell me where."

His face flushed again, but the words came easily. "My cock. I can barely think straight."

"Only if you lift the above-the-waist ban."

"Dunno," he said, rubbing the heel of his palm into his leg to keep his hand busy. "I kinda like teasing you."

"Fair play," she reminded him, a smile in her voice.

He laughed. "You're a hard woman to bargain with."

"Do it," she whispered then. "I want to hear you."

He spit into his palm as quietly as he could, and then he had a hand around himself, hard and steady. He didn't bother to bite back the groan that rumbled in his throat, and the answering gasp on the other end made his whole body tense up.

They didn't talk a whole lot after that, and he was relieved Veronica wasn't interested in more conversation. He didn't think he could focus on talking for much longer, especially with her moaning into the comm and murmuring his name and shifting restlessly around on her bed, thousands of millions of kilometres away. If he kept his eyes closed he could almost imagine she was there beside him, breathing into his ear about how much she needed him, how much she missed him. The hand he had fisted between his legs was no longer concerned with taking it slow; he kept pace with Veronica, with her breathing and her gasping, and he held back only long enough to hear her come over the comm.

God, it sounded like she'd come hard, too, and the thought of her arching up off the mattress undid him. His legs spasmed as he tried to keep himself as still and quiet as he could manage, but he groaned her name as his cock pulsed and ruined the inside of his pants. Her breathing rasped into the comm as his whole body went limp, and for a long moment all he could do was listen to her.

The first thing he noticed as his body settled down was how cold the room was. Goosebumps flared across his skin, and he grabbed for the blanket he'd kicked away earlier. "You still with me?" he gasped, pulling the sheet around his shoulders. He saw that his shirt had landed on the dresser on the other side of his room, but was loathe to get up from the bed—even if he was suddenly freezing.

"Yeah," Veronica replied, sounding as out of breath as he did. "Well, as much as I can be."

"I know." He curled on his side, doing his best to ignore the compromised state of his pants. He'd deal with that after their call.

"Couple weeks," she reminded him. Then she groaned, and sounded like she sat up. "For now I have to get back to work."

"Like right now?" He tried not to sound pouty, but it came out that way.

"We don't all have the luxury of lazing in bed," she responded. The sound of water running came through her end, along with the sound of a brush. He smiled, imagining her comb through her hair. "Some of us have schedules to follow."

He sat up on an elbow, using his free hand to keep the blanket in place. "Does that mean you used up your lunch break to talk dirty to me?"

"I can eat anytime in public and no one cares. This, though—" She sighed dramatically. "Requires a little more discretion."

"God, that's hot."

"Don't get too worked up. I'll be gone in a few minutes."

"You underestimate me then."

"Oh, on the contrary," she replied, and he knew exactly the kind of smirk she had plastered on her face. "It's the exact reason I'm warning you."

"Blow my mind with phone sex and then leave me out to dry. I expected nothing less from you."

"Phone cuddling doesn't really work as well as teasing."

At that he sighed, casting a glance at the empty half of his bed and allowing for a moment of self-pity. "No, it doesn't."

"I'll be there before you know it," she assured him, her tone growing worried. "And you can call me anytime."

"Don't always get an answer."

"I know. But I listen to your messages all the same. And read them. Keeps me sane, if that helps any."

"It does a little." He rubbed at his eyes. The fatigue that came on the heels of their previous conversation now felt unwelcome, but it was probably for the best; Veronica would be gone soon, and he'd be alone again.

"You're cute when you're grumpy."

"Lucky for you, I'm grumpy all the time. Or at least Vale says so."

"I'm glad someone's keeping you grounded to reality while I'm away." She paused, probably to re-button her uniform. He listened to her rustle around in her room, rushing to make herself presentable. It was a special kind of privilege to be able to know her when she wasn't; when her hair was down and tangled from sleep, when her clothes were wrinkled and slipping off her shoulders. He didn't know her to expose herself like that to many people, perhaps no one but him. They were both past the point in their careers where they got dressed and undressed in front of their teammates, and he revelled in the pleasure of still sharing those rituals with her. It made her feel a little less far away.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, still here."

"Thought you'd fallen asleep."

"While I'm on the horn with you? I'm not that stupid."

She laughed. "So you were just not listening, is that it?"

"A little. Just thinking about you."

"Anything particular?"

"Thought you had to work."

"You kicking me off the phone?"

"Just don't want to get you in trouble."

"A little trouble is good for the soul."

"So I've noticed." He shoved himself up from the mattress, annoyed at how uncomfortable he was. "And I was thinking about you getting dressed."

He could practically hear her eyebrow quirk. "I'll need to take a raincheck on this if you want to involve me in your next fantasy."

He laughed as he got up. He wandered over to his dresser to pull his shirt back on, once again taking are not to rub the material against the receiver at his ear. "No—I mean, thinking about you getting ready. Brushing your hair, buttoning up your uniform, that sort of thing. I always enjoyed watching you put your battle face on."

She didn't respond at first, and the silence stretched long enough that he thought maybe the connection was breaking up. But then he heard her sigh in a wistful sort of way. "I love you," she whispered finally.

A quiet thrill shot through him. It wasn't often that she was the one to say it first. "Love you too," he whispered back, leaning against the frame of the door leading to the bathroom.

"I have half a mind to—" An insistent beep disrupted whatever she was about to say to him. She sighed again, this time annoyed. "I'm sorry, Buck, I have to go—"

"It's alright. We can talk more later."

"I promise I'll find some time to catch up more. Talk soon."

"Yeah, talk soon."

The call ended, the silence loud in the moments following it. He turned the tap on high in the the bathroom to fill the quiet as he cleaned himself up, slipping on a new pair of sweatpants afterwards. His bunk was still warm from his residual body heat, and if he shut his eyes and curled up towards the wall, he could simply pretend Veronica was next to him.

Four weeks, he reminded himself. For now he'd warm himself up with their conversation still ringing in his ears. They'd spent longer stretches apart, after all. He could handle another month going without her in his room and filling his senses.