This particular chapter is rated M. I'll move the entire fic to the correct section later on to avoid people losing it. Thanks so much to my regular reviewers. I find it intriguing that this has been my most popular fic in terms of views per chapter, but the least reviewed!

Anyway, enjoy the drunken raunchiness.

Denouement

Chapter Six

"I am not as drink as you thunk I am, Yankee Noodle."

"You're hammered." Wheeler grinned as he watched her climb the stairs. She was holding tightly onto the handrail and he stayed close behind, intent on catching her in case her balance was compromised. "You got the key?"

She raised it over her head and jingled it. "Daaaa. Da."

They reached the landing and he paused as the hallway started to spin rapidly. Leaning against the wall, he steadied himself and shoved his hands in his pockets, observing Linka with a smile. She'd removed her heels and was about 10 steps in front of him, walking slowly while extending her feet and toes with her arms balanced outwards.

"What're you doin'?"

"Did you know I used to do ballet?" She did a rather clumsy pirouette and staggered as he approached from behind. She frowned, flicking her hair away from her face. "My teacher was a bit of a suka."

"Uh huh," he answered. He shook his head, laughing as she zig-zagged through the corridor, a slight spring in her step. Silken fabric danced around her legs, giving him an all-to-brief glimpse of her toned upper thighs.

"Oooh," she exclaimed, distracted as a breakfast menu hanging from a door handle caught her attention. She lumbered past their room, shoes swinging idly from her index finger as she bent down to inspect the available choices. Wheeler quickly caught up, gripping her by the shoulders and steering her back in the right direction.

"You wanna give me the key?"

"Nyet," she said, waving him off with her hand and he rolled his eyes: the alcohol had evidently enhanced her stubborn streak. They stopped at the door and he glanced down, noting her painted toenails and dainty feet treading the scuffed carpet below.

He dug his fingers into her waist and she scoffed, jamming an elbow into his ribs while attempting to gain entry. "I am more than capable of… bozhe moy, why are there three locks on this?"

"Oh God," he laughed, watching as she fumbled with the key for several moments. "There's one. You're normally a lot more coordinated than this."

"Well, stop distracting me," she hissed over her shoulder. His hand returned, this time to tickle her neck and the keys slid from her fingers to the floor. "Argh, stop it, durak."

"I know what that means, princess," he grinned, lurching forward to retrieve them. He groaned as Linka snatched them first, heading back to the locking mechanism and jamming them into a spot three inches above where they needed to be. "Hey, c'mon. We'll be here till next Tuesday."

"Shut up, Yankee."

"It's like pin the tail on the donkey," he muttered, crossing his arms and watching over her shoulder. "Babe, just give them here…"

She shook her head vigorously as he attempted to grab them. "Wheeler, stop it," she choked, laughing as he grabbed her hands and attempted to pry them away.

Linka shrieked, her voice echoing through the corridor as she wrenched away and turned her back to him, cupping the keys against her stomach.

"All right," he said in a low voice. He shrugged, grabbing her around the waist and attempting to retrieve them by force. Linka was cackling now, out of breath as she squirmed against him.

Dodging another one of Wheeler's incoming hands, she gripped them tightly and raised her fist, shoving the keys down the front of her dress. Dropping her hand, she threw him a smug look over her shoulder.

"Did you just…" Wheeler exclaimed, completely incredulous as he tightened his grip around her. "That's not exactly a deterrent."

She giggled as he jostled her about, nudging up against her back and gently pushing her face-first towards the wall.

Hooking his hand over her shoulder, he put her in a loose headlock. She eventually stopped struggling, gripping his forearm tightly as they swayed together in the dimly-lit corridor. The atmosphere was silent but for their breathing and the electronic buzz coming from the fluorescent lights above them. The arm around her waist tightened and she felt his chin rest against the back of her head.

Suddenly the fun and frivolity had turned into something else entirely. Something shifted, something that was tangible and heavy between them; prickling at her skin and causing the bottom of her stomach to fall away.

She breathed out, resting her forehead against the peeling paintwork as his remaining hand crept upwards. He pushed aside her hair and pressed his mouth against the warm pulse at the base of her throat, hooking two fingers beneath the strapless seam of her dress.

Wheeler lingered there, as if waiting for permission to continue. She sighed, tilting her head to the side and squeezing his arm, encouraging him. His hand slipped under the material and between her breasts, drawing the object out far quicker than she was prepared for… far quicker than she wanted.

The jingle of keys was just audible over the steady thumping of her heart. She shifted slightly, feeling his mouth on her shoulder now as his hand settled flat across her chest, then reaching up to cup her cheek.

A small sound escaped her as he tilted her face towards him. Their lips met in a whisper of a touch, tentative at first; slow and comforting and then rising in intensity. He could taste the vodka on her lips, feel her fingers tighten against his arm as he pulled her closer. Desperate to touch her, he had trodden the precipice all evening and his finely-tuned restraint had just crumbled into oblivion.

His fingers moved inside her dress again, this time slipping under her bra to cup her breast. His hands were wide and warm against her, kneading her gently and causing her to squirm within his embrace. She dropped her forehead against the wall again, breathless and bracing her hands flat against the crumbling plaster as he nestled himself against the curve of her behind.

His thumb and index finger grasped a pert nipple and she moaned, arching back and feeling the hard heat of him through the thick denim. His mouth trailed up over the ridge of her chin, before coming to rest against her ear.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was low and husky and she breathed out slowly, shifting her focus downwards towards the top of her dress… staring at the swell beneath the yellow silken fabric of her bodice and the insistent touch that was causing her toes to curl.

"Oh God," she whimpered as his fingers gently tweaked her again. He brushed his lips along her neck, nuzzling the scented skin. His question was already forgotten as she clenched her fingers against the wall, pressing her flesh further into his hand.

"Do you trust me?" She could feel him smiling against her ear, as if he knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

Do I trust him?

But she did trust him. She trusted him with her life, she trusted him with her heart and right now as she trembled and throbbed against him, she felt the desperate need to trust him with her body.

The Russian twisted around to face him and wound her arms tightly around his neck, reaching up on tippy-toes and pressing her mouth hard against his.

Pressing her up against the wall again, Wheeler buried his fingers in her hair and angled her face further upwards. She held onto him for dear life, her knees weak as she gasped against his frantic kisses.

His hands reached down and grasped her thighs, fingers digging firmly into her flesh as she was lifted upwards. Wrapping her legs firmly around his waist, she sunk her hands into his hair and held him to her, their movements hurried and urgent.

A hand slipped under her bottom to support her weight and she heard the rustle of keys again. Wheeler unlocked the door and lumbered inside with her, kicking it shut with the heel of his foot. Three steps and they fell onto the bed in an untidy mass of arms and limbs.

She barely had time to draw a breath before he was on top of her, his lips and body crushing and grinding against her as she sobbed against his insistent mouth. Her hands seemingly had a mind of their own, gripping the hem of his t-shirt and drawing it upwards, and over his head.

The shirt was flung aside. She reached out, moving her fingers and palms over the firm lines of his muscles and he growled against her skin, rolling her over until she was straddling him. Her hair fell across his face in a peach-scented cloud as he frantically worked at the zipper on the back of her dress. Drawing it downwards, she sighed against his mouth as his hands briefly caressed the softness beneath.

He sat up suddenly, hiking the lemon fabric up to her waist and she obediently raised her arms. The dress was tugged up and over, joining the discarded shirt on the floor. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he lowered her back down onto the bed again, his hands roaming her body and leaving a tingling trail in their wake. She felt his fingers and mouth hot against her neck, trailing down her collarbone and she arched her back, reaching behind to unhook the strapless bra that stood in the way.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as his mouth closed over her breast. She sobbed, clenching her fingers in his hair and panting softly; a string of unintelligible sounds issuing from her mouth.

She found herself unconsciously thrusting against him, desperate to increase the friction between her legs and wanting him to know what she needed… what she wanted. She heard him sigh deeply, felt him move upwards. He braced himself on one arm and looked down upon her, his fingers stroking the hair away from her flushed face.

"You sure?"

She nodded, wrapping her legs around him tightly. He lifted her slightly, pulling the blankets back and settling her down, with her head resting against the pillows. He moved away for just a moment, before climbing in beside the Russian. He smiled down at her, kissing her softly.

"Not gonna beat me up in the morning?"

She regarded him through half-lidded eyes, still breathing heavily. Locking her arms around his broad shoulders, she pulled his weight down until he was warm and heavy and hard against her. "Shut up, Yankee."

His response was unintelligible, something mumbled against her skin as he resumed his gentle exploration. She turned her face against his cheek as a hand wandered downwards, pressing a lithe leg aside and finding his target. Light fingers raked backwards and forwards over the cotton and she moaned as they eventually slipped inside. Her breath hitched against his neck, becoming more ragged as the pressure and intensity increased to near frenzied proportions.

She was writhing and whimpering beneath him and within minutes he knew she was ready. Wrapping an arm around her neck, he captured her lips with his own, settling himself between her legs and easing inside her.

She clenched her nails against his shoulder blades, hissing a breath between her teeth but he waited, whispering to her and caressing her. Utterly distracting her. Her body relaxed and he pressed forward again, lifting her and clutching at her as his hips increased their pace. She sobbed at the delicious friction as it built, intensifying until she tipped over the edge, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

She fell apart violently, breaking into pieces and resolute in her knowledge that her Yankee would put her back together again.

Wheeler ignored the ringtone the first time. He nuzzled his lips against Linka's forehead, content to simply watch her sleep. She was tucked into the crook of his arm, her breath was sweet and warm against his neck. He smiled, feeling her hand folded up against his chest and her fingers slowly curling and uncurling against his shoulder.

The cell phone rang again, insistent and unrelenting. Some classical piano concerto, muffled but disturbing the peace all the same. He rubbed his face and carefully extracted himself from Linka's pleasant weight. She sighed and turned over, curling up and pulling the sheets up against her chest. He was greeted by the curve of her back and for a moment he forgot the phone and considered waking her with something other than his voice.

The phone cut off mid-ring and there was a moments silence, before it started trilling again.

For fuck's sake.

Leaning over the edge of the bed, he stretched his arm out and reached for the strap of Linka's handbag. It was lying exactly where she'd tossed it - discarded in front of the mini bar during last night's drunken shuffle towards the bed. He pulled the bag towards him and fumbled inside for her phone.

"Yeah?" His voice was rough, a combination of the hangover and a lack of sleep.

"Hi sunshine!"

Gi.

He grunted and leaned back against the pillows. "What time is it?"

"It's morning."

"Can you be more specific?"

He heard her scoff on the other end of the line. "Ten. God, you sound awful. Kwame wants to head home, so you may wanna think about heading back. She awake?"

"How would I know?" Glancing over at Linka's sleeping figure he rolled his eyes. Gi was fishing for information.

"You answered her phone, genius. I know she's beside you. She awake?"

He sighed, not really knowing how to justify that. "I'll get her to call you. She's still asleep."

Gi gave a little excited squeal. "Wear her out, did y..."

"Bye, Gi." He cut her off and hung up on her, tossing the phone aside and stretching the kinks out in his neck.

Turning over, he curled his body around Linka's sleeping form and tossed an arm over her. She nestled into him, clasping his hand and folding it against her chest, just as she had several days ago on the stretcher in the medical tent. It seemed like so long ago. The Russian calmed again, her breathing slow and steady.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers through her curls and chuckled as Linka swatted his hand away. She rolled over and he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her cheek.

"Who was on the phone?" she said sleepily.

"Gi."

"Mmm," she replied.

He smiled as she angled her face up towards him: an intriguing mix of innocence and allure. Warm hands settled on her hips and she gasped, giggling as he pivoted her onto her back. Grasping her face in his hands, he kissed her softly, moving swiftly to the underside of her chin and throat.

"Do we need to leave?"

He parted her legs and settled between them, pressing his mouth against hers again.

"They can wait."