Disclaimer: The knights aren't mine.

This is a little scene that belongs to my "Chosen" AU (post apocalyptic Britain). Just one of a few little bits and pieces I'll put up as follow ups to the main story. I had a couple of messages asking for some more Kate/Tristan, so here we go. Smut ahoy so be warned.

Kate undid and retied her ponytail for the seventh time in what she reckoned was about three hours. The clock that used to sit on the wall over the microwave had been obliterated by the bomb that had taken out half the kitchen and more than one of her friends a month earlier, so it was pretty much guess work or asking the few people that had working watches when it came to telling the time.

The sun was mostly down though, so six o clock seemed about right. The light was an improbable bright orange and bounced off the cracks in the repaired kitchen window so that it was hard to see out, but nonetheless she tried.

The grass was growing up through the gouges made from the tank that had ripped through the fence that had defended the fort at Hadrian's wall, and one of the re-built barracks looked shiny and new in the dying light. Re-building had started almost as soon as Saxon and his men had been defeated, and the refugees were turning the tatty tent encampment into a row of small houses with admirable speed. Two men sharing a cigarette by the recently decimated shower block noticed her looking at them and waved before picking up their tools and getting back to work. She lifted her hand in acknowledgement, but wasn't sure if they had seen her reply.

The refugee camp was now a building site.

Hell, the whole world was a building site.

But out there was Tristan.

Bloody, moody, don't say a word and fuck off into the forest when you know that there are still some of Saxon's followers out there, and the last time you faced them off you ended up in a hospital bed, Tristan.

The opening of the kitchen door dragged her attention away, and at least promised the outlet of some of her pent up fear, but the the dark haired girl who entered took one look at her and held up her hands in surrender.

"Back off. Saw that look in the mirror this morning – just because the boys are out fighting doesn't mean we should start between ourselves."

Kate couldn't help but laugh. Alice might be a bit ditzy at times but when it counted she saw right to the heart of things and didn't hesitate in giving her opinion. Resting against the wall, she watched as the pretty brunette put the kettle on and poured them both a cup of tea. There was milk now, and that was a treat, so she sipped the drink carefully and savoured the taste.

"How many cows have we got now?"

Alice shrugged. "Fifteen Fri.. Friasia.." Rolling her eyes she gave a wry smile. "Those black and white ones. There's a bull wild on the hill, Dagonet reckons. A couple of the blokes in the camp are going to make pen for it."

"If they can catch it."

Alice sat down, crossed her legs and tucked her arms across her stomach. "They'll catch it. Probably. That Welsh bloke, Gavin, seems to know what he's talking about. He's taking a load of people up to go bull fishing or rodeoing or whatever tomorrow." Picking up her tea, Alice blew across the surface to cool it and stared off into space.

The silence was so solid that Kate wondered if it might actually be a third member of the conversation.

"Gawain's coming back. It's a scouting trip that's all."

"I didn't say that he wasn't." Alice's answer was too quick and too defensive to be honest. Looking into the cup of tea that rested upon her lap as though it might have the answers to the future, a little of her old spirit returned and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. "Anyway, you're not one to talk – how many times have you cleaned the oven? It won't make Tristan come back any faster."

"It needed cleaning," Kate said defensively. Looking at the object in question, she couldn't help noticing that it still looked a bit grubby.

"Oh no you don't." Alice grabbed the jay cloth by the sink before Kate had a chance to reach for it and promptly sat on it. "We haven't got many cloths left, and I'm not having you ruining the ones we've got just because you're fidgety."

Looking at the blonde girl perched upon the cloth with her arms crossed and her lips pursed, Kate couldn't help but laugh.

"You look like a broody hen." Settling for wiping a couple of mugs with a rag that served as a tea towel, she gave a smile. "That cloth's wet you know, you really don't want damp knickers – Gawain'll be back soon."

"When Gawain gets back I don't reckon I'll be wearing them for very long," Alice said flippantly, getting up and tossing the jay cloth into the sink.

Kate shook her head in mock rebuke. "Tart."

"Prude," Alice retorted. "Anyway, it's not like you can talk. You've been sleeping with Tristan for the past week. Either that or you've been sleeping on the floor, 'cause the beds haven't been slept in our room since I made them last Thursday."

Kate paused before putting the mug she had been cleaning on the shelf. It was true that she hadn't slept in the room that she had previously shared with Alice, but while her friend and former room mate was correct in assuming that she had been sleeping with Tristan the context was off.

True, they'd made tentative steps towards a more stable relationship than the few erotic fumblings and intimacies shared more by accident than design before the last battle with Saxon, but since then...

She knew that Tristan liked her sleeping next to him. She knew that he cared for her, worried about her, and was a pain in the arse when she ignored him and did as she pleased anyway. In the early days his injuries sustained while fighting had made her wary of reaching out to him, but now that he was mostly healed she was more than a little confused as to why he hadn't tried to take things further, and too shy to instigate sex herself.

"Kate?" Alice looked at her friend with concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's ok. You didn't..." The unmistakable roar of a Range Rover's engine interrupted her words, and the two women grinned at each other before rushing over to the window. Sure enough, the car that had been appropriated from the former General of the camp was bouncing its way up the grassy slope that led to Hadrians Wall. Alice immediately dashed outside, but Kate paused for a moment to watch and make sure that all was well.

Galahad tumbled out of the car and promptly threw up. No surprise there, Kate thought to herself. The youngest Samartian was notoriously car sick, and with Burgess driving it was likely that there wasn't much left in his stomach by now. Burgess himself hopped out of the drivers seat and shook his head sorrowfully at the sight before wandering off towards towards the armoury that housed his beloved weapons, lifting up his t-shirt and giving his ample belly a scratch as he did so. Vaguely noticing Alice throwing herself into Gawain's welcoming arms and cooing over a bunch of flowers that even from fifty feet away looked squashed, Kate let out a breath that she hadn't known she had been holding when Tristan slid out of the back seat and walked over to Arthur who had hurried down to meet his returning soldiers.

He looked ok, she thought with relief. The same fluid grace and economy of movement, no visible wounds or bandages. Whatever the scout had to say to Arthur had to be important because the pair of them were deep in conversation within moments, and watching Guinevere walk over and join the discussion, Kate suddenly felt very self conscious. The Commander's young lover managed to look beautiful and elegant even dressed in a pair of combat trousers and a shirt that was at least three sizes too big for her. Both Arthur and Tristan were obviously listening intently to what she had to say, and catching her own reflection in the window glass, Kate inwardly winced.

Her blonde hair was sticky with sweat from the steam from the kettle, and worry had left dark smudges under her eyes. A ketchup stain made a strange comma of sauce on her shirt just above her breast, and grabbing the jay cloth that Alice had taken off her earlier, she managed to make matters worse by scrubbing at it.

"Shit". There wasn't any way to escape from the kitchen and change without Tristan seeing her, and in truth nothing nice to change into anyway. Wistfully Kate thought of the clothes she'd had in her wardrobe before the virus had struck and decimated anything resembling a normal life. The white cotton dress from Monsoon that was long enough to be decorous but showed enough cleavage to be sexy... The black denim skirt that fitted her so well that her fiancé had told her to stop admiring her backside in the mirror and come to bed already. Wouldn't it be nice to greet Tristan looking pretty for once? Glancing out the window she watched Gawain toss Alice over her shoulder and pretend to be a caveman as her friend pretended to struggle. The two were beautiful together with their dark and golden hair mingling and identical smiles, and so it took a moment for Kate to realise that she wasn't alone.

"Hello Kate." Tristan's voice was quiet, but lost in her thoughts the interruption was so unexpected that she jumped and only barely missed giving herself a concussion on the corner of the kitchen cupboard.

"Hello." Steadying herself against the wall, Kate gave him a smile. "Sorry, I was miles away."

"Looked like it." Seating himself at the kitchen table, he appraised her with searching amber eyes. "How have you been?"

Apart from worrying my self sick over you? Thinking of ways in which you could have been horribly killed? Generally acting like a love-struck fourteen year old? Kate turned away and put the kettle on.

"I've been fine, thanks. How did the scouting go?"

"Alright."

The traitorous kettle decided to be obliging for once and boiled almost immediately, giving her no time to think. Pouring a cup of tea, she struggled for something to say.

"Building's coming along well isn't it."

Tristan sipped his tea and didn't take his eyes off her.

"Looks like it."

"Right." There wasn't anything to clean up, so Kate leant against the sink and did her best not to look at the man seated at the table in front of her. With his long legs sprawled under the table and his hair flopping into his eyes he looked strangely vulnerable. Watching as he reached into the pocket of the coat he'd shrugged off, she moved closer when he beckoned her.

"I got something for you."

"Ok." Feeling her heart leap, she stopped dead when she saw what Tristan had taken out of his pocket. In comparison Gawain's battered flowers that he had no doubt pinched from someone's garden was an offering worthy of Casanova.

"It's a gun." Kate looked at the weapon Tristan had placed on the rickety table with mistrust. It was sleek, shiny, lethal, and not something she really wanted to pick up. The taciturn northerner looked at her with an expression that was almost nervous, and she laughed despite herself.

"If you're going to get me presents then why can't you be like Gawain and, I don't know, pick flowers?"

"You want me to pick you flowers?" Tristan lifted an eyebrow.

"No," Kate admitted. "Anything remotely normal when it comes to you would probably mean that you had a head injury.. You don't do you?" She looked at him suspiciously. There were no obvious signs of blood or injury, but with Tristan it was always best to check, as the only way he'd admit to being hurt was if he literally couldn't stand up, and even then it took a bollocking from Arthur to get him into the infirmary. "But I've already got a gun. I don't need another one". She nodded at the Beretta that was sat on the top of the cupboard over the sink. It was wrapped in a tea towel with a picture of Cliff Richard on it that someone from the camp had brought with them. Kate often wondered what was more disturbing – the fact that she needed a handgun in the kitchen or the way that the singer from the sixties' printed eyes seemed to follow her whenever she looked at it.

"This one's lighter." Tristan nudged his chair back and picked up the object in question. "See? It'll fit you better; easier to hide and easier to handle." His warm fingers curled around her wrist and placed the cold steel in her palm .

"Ok That's..." Shit, what was that? A friendly gesture?what was he trying to say?

"I want you to be safe when I'm not around." His words were abrupt, but Kate saw the wariness in his eyes and realised that he felt as awkward as she did.

"We're not doing this very well are we?" She said softly. "The whole intimacy thing."

"Doesn't mean that we can't try."

"Does that mean you want to?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Didn't bring anyone else a gun back did I?" His words were defensive, his eyes confused, and Kate burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry." It was an effort to get the words out. Leaning against the wall, she shook her head and backhanded the tears of mirth from her eyes. "I love you, you know. You're mental but I actually really do love you."

"Fucking weird way of showing it," the scout muttered. Kate felt his hand grab her wrist, and although it hurt a little she let him lead her off to what was now "their" quarters.

Jesus. It had been a long couple of days, but any remnants of tiredness disappeared when Tristan debriefed Arthur and headed off towards the kitchen. Kate hadn't heard him push the door open, so lost was she in whatever it was that she was looking at out of the window. Not that Tristan had minded. It was rare to find her so still – usually she flitted about nervously, anxious to please or placate or worry about someone other than herself.

In the dying light her pale hair glowed , and when she noticed him the brief look of surprised delight transformed her face from pretty to truly beautiful. It was a bit of a shame then that she looked at him as though he was totally insane when he gave her the Glock. It was a good gun, one that had taken him a while to find for her. Tristan tried to justify the gift in his own mind. Going out on missions was necessary, but leaving Kate alone wasn't something he was comfortable with – she left her weapon wrapped up in a tea-towel for Gods sake! True Saxon was dead, but there were plenty of men at the camp that could hurt her, and that wasn't taking into account the last of Saxon's men who lived in the forest and bore a grudge against the lot of them. For a moment she looked utterly perplexed when he tried to explain the reasoning and he could have kicked himself.

Flowers. Jewellery. Hell, even teddy bears – that was what women wanted. For the first time in his life Tristan wished he'd taken Gawain's advice when it came to women.

But then Kate started laughing and looked at him, really looked at him and made everything ok again in the way she always did without really seeming to mean to.

He led her back to his bedroom without thinking and without noticing the stares of the refugees that they passed. Slamming the door closed and sitting on the bed, it was only then that he realised that he'd pretty much dragged her there without asking her permission.

"Sorry."

Kate leaned against the door and rubbed her wrist. With a surge of guilt, Tristan noticed the discolouration on the pale skin. There would be bruises there come morning. She obviously noticed the direction of his gaze and tugged her shirt sleeves down over her knuckles.

"What gives, Tristan?" she said softly. "You look after me, you sleep with me but you don't touch me. You give me a gun but not a reply when I tell you that I love you. What do you want from me?"

Shit, where to start? How about the next fifty or so years?

"I want you to be happy." Alright, not exactly Shakespeare, but at least it was honest. Tristan watched Kate's eyes narrow and felt his heart constrict when she walked over to him and pressed a tentative kiss to his lips.

"You make me happy", she whispered. " And I meant what I said." Settling down on his lap, she rested her head on his shoulder and gave a shuddering sigh.

Running his hand down her spine, he kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulders, knowing that it was ticklish and knowing to hold her around the waist so that she couldn't escape. Running his thumb over her lips he met her eyes, dark and serious.

"You've got shit taste in men, Kate," he said quietly. "You can do better."

She took his hand and kissed the palm. "Nah, I like the bloke I've got." Pulling her shirt over her head she sat back a little so that she was perched on his knees, and wasn't that all sorts of beautiful? The pounding of his heart was echoed by the throb of his erection, and it took all of his will power not to crush her closer or throw her down on the bed and take her there and then.

Instead Tristan stroked her cheek, letting one long finger trace down the curve of her jaw and down the slender column of her neck. When she leaned down to kiss him he kissed her collar bones instead, his hands grazing her ribs.

"Tristan..." It was more of a whimper than a request, and rolling over so that Kate was underneath him on the bed, he let his hand drift downwards. The jeans she wore were baggy and it was easy to slip his hand underneath the waistband, and easier still to slide two fingers inside her. She was hot and wet, and feeling her arch against his hand, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Fuck.. I... Please." Her eyelids fluttered and one hand grabbed his forearm so hard that it hurt when he pushed the heel of his hand against her clit. She came apart moments later with a sob, her inner walls pulsing around his fingers, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"You're beautiful," he said honestly.

Kate opened her eyes and reached up to kiss him.

"Finish this, finish me," she whispered, rocking her hips against his straining arousal. Her fingers were struggling with the buttons on his shirt, and impatient, Tristan sat back and pulled it over his head. The rest of his clothing followed suit and joined Kate's on the floor. Bracing himself over the blonde that had scooted up onto the pillows, he cupped her cheek.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Propping herself up on her elbows she watched as he opened a drawer in the bedside cabinet and found a condom. Too shy to do it herself she nonetheless reached out and touched his hand as he rolled the latex down his shaft. His cock twitched and she smiled when Tristan had to bite back a groan."Like that do you?"

She yelped when he rolled her over onto her back, his arms braced on either side of her head, his erection hot rocking agonizingly slowly at her entrance.

"We do this then that's it, you're mine." The words gritted out seemed crude, but Kate gave a sweet smile and bucked her hips up, impaling herself upon him. Biting back a groan Tristan rocked forward, feeling Kate's hot warmth envelop him, the sweet pain of her nails digging into his back and the harsh sound of her breath against his ear. He kept himself in check as best he could, withdrawing and teasing her with his mouth when he came too close to climax, learning the places that made her cry out and pull the sheets from the mattress. Finally giving in to his own desire he slammed into her and felt her ankles dig into his back.

"Yours." It was more of a plea than a promise, but feeling her go over the edge again, her body tightening around him, it was enough to send him over with her. Rolling over onto his back he took her with him so that she was draped across his chest.

"So what does "mine" mean then", Kate said eventually. Wriggling off Tristan's chest she flopped back onto the rumpled sheets. "I'm not exactly "kept woman" material – ask Germanius."

Tristan gave her a tired smile. "I'll just have to be a kept bloke then won't I."

"Can't imagine anyone taming you.," Kate muttered. Running a hand over the flat plane of his belly and through the black and silver hair that covered his chest, she rested her hand upon Tristan's heart.

"Maybe not." His hand came up and trapped hers, holding it to the sweaty skin. "I could probably be domesticated though."

Kate gave a snort and tugged her hand free, rolling onto her back. "Sounds like a lot of work to me."

"Yeah well," Tristan studied the ceiling. "When the bloke is madly in love with the most beautiful girl at Hadrians wall then she's pretty much got a sure thing when it comes to training."

"So you've got a thing for Guinevere then."

"Nope, Arthur's got a thing for Guinevere." Tristan tucked a lock of sweaty hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. "I've got a thing for Kate."

"Good to know." Snuggling her head against his side, Kate closed her eyes.

"So are you going to marry me or what?"

Kate yawned. "We don't have any priests or anyone to do the proper paperwork here. Even if you did ask me, and I hope that wasn't a proposal because that was rubbish, none of it would be legal."

"Whose going to argue?" Tristan kissed Kate deeply and licked her breast. Her skin tasted slightly of ketchup, but since the unexpected was now the norm he merely shrugged and moved lower down her body. When she kicked on leg over his shoulders he kissed her sweetly on the inside of her thigh and got to work. After all she had tormented his dreams for the half dozen nights that he had been away, it was only fair that he gave her a little pay back...