Written super quickly for the weekly challenge - "Lucy and Wyatt share a bed. Again. And this time the moment is heavy with all the possibilities they left unsaid." (Took a break from a beast of a 'Timing' chapter.) Takes place Memorial Day weekend, so if we go with the show being 'real time' compared to our time, roughly 3 months after the finale. Please excuse any typos :)

Lucy eyed the bed warily.

We all need a break, they said. It'll be fun, they said. (And free, they said.) It's a two bedroom suite, so we get a room, you get a room, and Wyatt can take the fold-out couch in the living room, they said.

She'd certainly agreed with the first point; five days spent in 1845 Illinois among the early Mormons battling other locals had not been her idea of fun.

The second point had been a little less convincing; while she certainly enjoyed music, food, beer, and wine, which from what she could tell, was exactly how the BottleRock festival advertised itself. But still, it had seemed like a lot of fanfare, and a lot of people and crowds, when she'd kind of figured a long weekend just hiding away from the world would be more likely to recharge her batteries. But, Jiya had gotten the tickets, and the hotel suite, from her brother when he'd gotten called away to Atlanta on business at the last minute. Given that he'd been planning on going with co-workers, who'd also been shipped off to Atlanta with him, he'd apparently suggested that Jiya take her own colleagues, no cost. Aside from Rufus and Jiya, who had obvious worked together ahead of the Flynn/Rittenhouse mess, they were all so different, and lived such different lives; none of them would have ever met each other. However, given the circumstances under which they had, not to mention the non-disclosure agreement they'd all had to sign, they'd all taken to spending time together socially. So Lucy hadn't really felt like she was really in a position to say no when there were four wristbands for the four of them.

That third point was the only – ONLY – reason she'd relented when they'd begged her to come. If she had her own room, she could escape. Escape when being a third wheel to Rufus and Jiya's couple-y-ness got to be a bit too much. When Rittenhouse reared its ugly head in her mind and the only escape was to try and forget about things by sleeping. …or when Wyatt's constant presence just became a little too overwhelming.

A suite, they said.

No suite, the resort management said.

Because clearly the world, universe, time, fate, or all of the above were out to toy with her emotions since that first trip to the Hindenburg, there had been a problem with the reservation.

No suite. The reservation was actually a regular old standard room with two double beds. Perfectly fine for an established couple, say Rufus and Jiya, for example. A little more fraught for two non-coupled colleagues vaguely open to some sort of nebulous possibilities.

Or at least he had been the last time they'd gone anywhere near any sort of conversation about such things. And that had been a few months ago, before Emma, Carol, and Rittenhouse had decided to take up screwing with time, picking up right where Flynn had left off in terms of necessitating the team from Mason to intervene.

To Jiya's credit, Lucy was willing to admit, she'd fought valiantly against both the front desk clerk and the manager. Not to mention with her brother on the phone. But with such a large event going on, available accommodations – from hotels, to resorts, to Airbnb, to even camping – were essentially non-existent. Any open room they'd been able to find was far enough away that they may as well have just stayed at their own homes and driven up each day. So it had been the two double beds or nothing, especially considering that the traffic on the way up meant that none of them was really in the mood or the shape to be driving all the way back that late at night.

Wyatt had immediately declared his intent to just sleep on the floor. To be honest, Lucy hadn't been sure if hearing that had been a relief or a disappointment. Not that it had mattered either way; Wyatt had barely gotten the words out when Jiya had blurted out that sleeping on the floor was silly when he could just share with Lucy.

Just share with Lucy, they said.

Sure.

But of course, they'd both had their hands tied as soon as it had been brought up; she had to confirm it would be ok, and he had to go along with it. Anything else would be an admission that there was something there more than friendship. As friends, Lucy would have been fine sharing with Rufus. And as friends, Wyatt probably would have been fine sharing with Jiya. But that hadn't been the sharing that was proposed. And supposedly, all she and Wyatt were was friends. So Lucy had lamely, insincerely, echoed Jiya's offer to share. And Wyatt had stiltedly taken her up on the offer.

So she eyed the bed warily.

Rufus and Jiya were already in their bed, casually cuddled up while each fiddled with something on their phones. Wyatt had disappeared into the bathroom, the last of them to do so. Which meant that, sooner or later, he'd emerge, probably looking stupidly good-looking despite whatever rumpled, mismatched pajamas he'd have on, and they'd have to get in bed together.

Not exactly the way Lucy would have envisioned their next time in bed together. Not that she'd ever admit to that.

Which was part of what she was worried about. When fully awake and in control of all her faculties, Lucy was fully capable of giving Wyatt whatever space it was appearing he needed, despite how hopeful she was for something more. But asleep? She was well aware, from the smattering of moderately long-term relationships she'd had since college, that she tended to migrate towards whomever her romantic bed partner was. She'd never been that way with Amy, or any of her friends, when they'd gone on roadtrips from time to time. But she was pretty sure that her subconscious wasn't going to be amenable to keeping Wyatt in the realm of friends no matter how many times she reminded herself of that fact. And she so didn't need the awkwardness that would ensue if she woke up curled up next-

Lucy jumped, jarred from her thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Quickly she yanked down the duvet and sheets on her side of the bed lest Wyatt find her staring like something out of a zombie movie. She crawled into bed, slipping under the covers and mentally preparing herself for a mostly sleepless night of clinging desperately to the edge of the bed on her side. She didn't look directly at him, but stole a glance when he crossed her line of sight when passing the bed to where he'd stashed his bag in the corner by the balcony door.

Dammit. She'd been right. Except not even mismatched. Just stupidly rumpled and attractive in blue plaid flannel pants and a navy t-shirt, both of which just were probably serving to make his eyes look even more blue than they already were.

Not wanting to seem awkwardly stiff, Lucy tried to lean back, make herself comfortable, despite comfortable being the last thing that she was currently feeling.

And then she felt the mattress shift, dipping even slightly by her as Wyatt eased himself onto his side.

Her pulse jumped. It's not that she expected or even wanted anything to happen; even if they were a couple, nothing was going to happen when Rufus and Jiya were all of five feet away. But with no life or death situations in the past to distract her, his proximity was electric; she couldn't have helped feeling on edge even if she'd been dosed with horse tranquilizers.

Her gaze darted over at him as she felt him shift to lie down, but she averted her eyes immediately once she caught a glimpse of him looking over at her.

Be more awkward, Lucy, they said.

Except no. No one had said that, but there she was doing it anyway.

So she took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that Wyatt was roughly ten inches from her in bed. She rolled over onto her side, keeping her back to him. Rufus was just reaching for the bedside lamp as she did, and he uttered a soft "G'night guys" as he flipped off the light.

With no real city or street lights outside the resort, the darkness bathing the room was just barely shy of pitch black, such that Lucy could almost pretend that she wasn't squished into a room with three other people, one of whom just happened to be Wyatt, in her bed.

Or at least she would have almost been able to pretend, if it wasn't for the fact that the still, quiet, dark meant that she could every. single. little. move. that Wyatt made. Pillows rustling, sheets tugging, deeply breathed huffs. And they didn't end. As much as it would have been easier to ignore his presence if he would just fall asleep and stay still, but it was also kind of a comfort to think that maybe, just maybe, the whole situation did have him as tense and as on edge as she was.

Lucy yawned into the darkness, tired but still far too unsettled to relax enough to sleep.

Then she heard Wyatt stir again, and the next thing she knew, he was flipping around restlessly and something – Wyatt – brushed up against her. And not just any part of her, her butt. She nearly jumped out of her skin. He jumped away as if burned, mumbling a muted "Sorry" before stilling once more.

Given that she was still concentrating on catching her breath, Lucy didn't respond.

They were both preternaturally still following that encounter, but sleep was still eluding Lucy. And she figured the same for Wyatt, even though she didn't dare roll over to check. But she could hear soft snores coming from Rufus, and even Jiya's breathing was noticeably deep, even from across the room. There was no such asleep-sounding breathing from behind her in bed.

She couldn't be sure how long they remained like that, practically in suspended animation, as Rufus had turned the alarm clock to face his and Jiya's bed, and Lucy didn't dare move enough to reach out to adjust its angle.

But eventually, she felt Wyatt move again. Only this time, he wasn't just rolling around and shifting his position. The bed dipped deeper when he sat up, and then he was up and gone. A few seconds later, Lucy heard the low rumble of the balcony's sliding door opening, then closing again, followed by a cool rush of air.

She still waited a bit before moving, but eventually curiosity got the best of her. Flipping over, she peered cautiously toward the sliding door. She could make out Wyatt's frame in the dim light; he faced away from her, looking out over the valley view. Feeling pretty confident that he wouldn't be able to see her in the darkness of the room even if he did turn around, Lucy pulled herself up to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard as she studied him.

They'd been so close that day at Mason, before… well, before everything. Or so she'd thought. More than once she'd allowed herself to wonder what, if anything, might have happened between them – if that conversation would have been continued – if the Rittenhouse fiasco hadn't blown up in their faces, sending them right back into a full slate of Mothership-chasing.

And Lucy couldn't help but wonder if he was wondering those same sorts of things.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped out of bed, tugging the duvet and wrapping it around her shoulders to ward off the cool night air. She cast a quick glance toward the shadowy outlines of Rufus and Jiya, and, satisfied they were both truly asleep, she tiptoed over to the balcony and slipped outside.

The thin sliver of crescent moon did little to illuminate his form, but she could still see him quite clearly as he rested his forearms against the railing and stared off into space. Still quiet, she padded closer to him, the tile of the balcony's floor cold under her bare feet as she stepped around the wicker patio furniture taking up most of the space out there.

He still hadn't noticed her, even when she leaned against the rail next to him, so she took a moment to take in the lights of the valley around them. "Pretty," she murmured.

That registered. "Jesus," he breathed, startling at the sound of her voice, and jerking his head in her direction to zero in on her. "Don't sneak up on people like that," he warned.

Lucy felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she recalled being on the other side of a similar exchange what seemed like forever ago in Germany. "You've done it to me," she reminded him.

He nodded with a soft chuckle escaping, and he gave her a sidelong glance. "Touché," he acknowledged before falling back into his contemplative silence.

At a loss once he'd been quite for another couple of moments, Lucy ventured tentatively, "You ok?"

Wyatt just shrugged and sighed. "Yeah," he said unconvincingly. "You should..." he nodded in the direction of the door behind him, "go back to sleep."

She shrugged back in return, stating plainly, "Wasn't asleep."

He shot her a curious look before turning back to face the night, scoffing slightly. "Join the club."

Lucy sighed as he fell silent once again. Following his gaze to …wherever he was looking, she spoke up carefully. "Look, sorry," she apologized, stumbling over her words. "I should have said something earlier with Jiya..." She looked down, fiddling with the corners of the duvet when he didn't show any signs of reacting to her words. "You don't have to share the bed if you don't want to."

Given how quiet he'd been, she wasn't exactly prepared for the derisive snort that her apology was met with, especially considering he'd hung his head as it had slipped out.

Her brow furrowed in confusion and she turned to angle herself to face him. "What?"

His voice was even quieter, strained, when he finally responded. "Lucy, I do want to be in bed with you." He chuckled wryly, amending, "Probably too much."

Lucy's mouth fell open, and she may well have made some sort of squeak of disbelief; she couldn't be sure, since she was a bit more concerned with what he'd said rather than any noises she may have made. She was floored; of course there was something, or at least the possibility of something between then, but he'd never even come close to admitting anything so forward or direct – or sexual – about any sort of attraction or feelings. Even when they'd danced around the subject of possibilities that one day, it had all been so… tenuous and ill-defined.

Dumbfounded, Lucy wasn't sure what to say or how to react. What to do with such an admission?

Unfortunately, Wyatt seemed to take her silence as discomfort. "Shit," he hissed, wiping a hand over his face. "Sorry," he apologized with a sigh, "I shouldn't have sai-"

"No!" Lucy cut in, perhaps a little too forcefully. "No," she repeated, softer, "it's ok." And when he was the one to not respond, she voiced her confusion in a whisper. " ...you never said anything."

He shrugged as casually as if someone had asked him what he wanted for dinner. "Didn't know how," he admitted, not looking at her. "Or if I should."

"Why wouldn-" Lucy stammered, flummoxed as to why he would ever think he shouldn't talk to her about their would-be relationship.

He rolled his neck, rubbing at the back of it with one hand as he explained, "I don't know how to do this. With anyone," he continued, nodding toward her, "never mind you." With a sigh, he kept going. "I met Jess in college. A relationship was pizza and cheap beer and dorm rooms." He looked away again, almost shy. "Got married right after graduation. I was deployed all over pretty much right after that," he finished, sounding far more detached than when he'd started.

Lucy felt a little tug in her chest at the thought of him worrying over something like that. Hell, given what they'd been up to in their day job lately, lounging around together with pizza like lazy college students actually sounded pretty appealing. With a grin, she teased, "I like cheap beer."

He turned toward her, catching her eye as he smirked and let out a chuckle. "You like sparkling wine," he corrected.

"And beer," she promised, her tone a little more serious.

That little bit of humor completely faded when his mood turned somber again. "And I still think about her," he confessed, his voice cracking as he did so. "Am I just supposed to wait until I completely forget her to move on? How 'over' her am I supposed to be? I want to be with you, but I don't know how to know when I'm ready to… act on these new possibilities." He looked over at her plaintively, and even as her heart beat faster at the even more unequivocal admission, Lucy could have sworn she could see the evidence of his inner struggle in the form of his eyes growing shiny in the dim moonlight. Her heart broke a little for him, not unlike it had the day he'd come back from 1983, unsuccessful. A few beats later, he managed to continue. "I don't want you to get hurt, and I'm afraid it's going to happen even when I don't mean for it."

There was no way Lucy couldn't initiate some sort of contact after that admission; they weren't even anything yet, and he was that concerned for her? When had she ever had that before? She hesitated for a second, but eventually reached out to rest her hand on his forearm, where it still rested on the balcony railing. He tensed under her touch, but she didn't shy away, instead running her hand up his arm, smoothing out the goosebumped skin. "Wyatt," she started softly, "I know Jessica is a part of who you are. I've known that since day one." Taking a deep breath, she summoned the resolve to put herself out there, as he'd done. "But it doesn't stop me from wanting to be with you."

He finally turned more than just his head to face her. Standing up from the railing, her hand falling away from his arm as he did, he regarded her with what Lucy could only think looked like some sort of curious awe. "…I wasn't sure," he admitted honestly. "Good to know."

Lucy frowned a little at that, feeling kind of awful that's she'd let him doubt her feelings, even if it had partially been by design. "Of course I want to be with you," she assured him, even as she felt a warm rush in her cheeks at the unfamiliarity of being able to say such things aloud now. "I just-" she started, not quite sure how to explain herself. "I just couldn't be the one to do or say anything first, because of everything you just said," she finally said in a rush. Softer, she added, "I couldn't pressure you if you weren't ready."

"I don't know how to know if I am," he breathed, closing his eyes in what looked like frustration. "I want to be."

With the railing next to them, the open space below, now facing each other… It was eerily similar to that day back at Mason months ago. Close enough for… possibilities.

And while she certainly still didn't want to pressure him, Lucy didn't really want to let another missed opportunity slip by and figured maybe a little nudge wasn't the same as pressure. Her voice was barely even a whisper when she spoke. "Maybe you don't know until you try?"

Lucy thought maybe he smiled, or nodded, or something, but she couldn't be sure given that one thing he was definitely doing was brushing a stray hair off her cheek and leaning closer.

She met him halfway, pressing her lips softly to his in a sweet, gentle kiss. Tentative though it was, it was everything their kiss back in Arkansas hadn't been – slow, deliberate, and only for each other.

Wyatt pulled back, but rested his forehead against hers, almost as if he needed to pause to let his brain catch up with his body. Which Lucy was perfectly fine with, given the circumstances, so she was caught a bit off-guard when his hands cupped her face and pulled her back to him.

Very quickly, Lucy could tell this kiss was different. This wasn't just testing the waters, this was exploring each other as his teeth teased her lower lip, coaxing her to open up to him. She did readily, a soft whimper shamelessly escaping into his mouth when his tongue slid over hers for the first time. His hands slid from her face to tangle in her already pillow-mussed hair, his lips never leaving hers for longer than it took to suck in a quick half-breath. For her part, the duvet was forgotten, slipping from her shoulders as she raked her nails over the thin fabric of the t-shirt covering his chest.

His kiss was everything she'd imagined (…hoped) it would be since that first frantic, rushed one back in 1934. Her mind was nearly blank in the most wonderful way, the only things creeping into her consciousness aside from the sensations of his mouth on hers being the noises and shivers she was eliciting from him and filing away for future reference.

She was breathless when he finally backed away enough to allow them to truly catch their breaths. His hands fell away from her now more-tangled hair, but he slid them around her waist instead, pulling her close.

His voice was husky when he spoke. "I- I might be ready."

Lucy grinned, a little flutter in her stomach at the promise in his words.

But she couldn't help it; between the residual tingling through her body from the kiss and the fact that the duvet had long since fallen to behind her feet, a substantial shiver shook her body.

Wyatt took note, because of course he did, which just added to the fluttering in her stomach. "We should go in," he lamented, eyeing the sliding door. "Not that I really want us subjected to Rufus and his deviated septum right after …this."

Still, neither of them moved, both reluctant to upset their little bubble of possibilities out there on the balcony.

The next thing she knew, Wyatt was grabbing the duvet from the floor and tugging her by the hand toward one of the two wicker chaise lounges behind him. Once he was next it, he dropped her hand and flopped down on it himself on his back, scooting as far as he could to one side of the narrow seat.

He didn't need any words to get his message across; there was room enough for her to lie along his side, barely.

As much as she wanted it, and for as much exploring of her mouth as his tongue had just been doing, it was still strange to think about making that transition to being so casual about things. So, shyly, she made her way over to him, gingerly sliding herself onto the chaise to lie on her side next to him.

It was even more of a tight fit that she'd realized, leaving her to rest her head on his shoulder with her top leg bent and hitched up to rest on his thigh. Her hand splayed across his chest as he pulled the duvet up to cover them both.

While she knew it would warm up, the fabric was chilly itself from having sat on the ground for however long they'd been lost in each other's kisses.

So she teased him. "You better be one of those guys like a personal furnace," she said, smirking as she poked his ribs beneath the duvet.

He just snorted a laugh in return before replying, "Seriously, considering you're clearly one of those girls with ice feet."

Feigning having taken offense, Lucy got her revenge for the jab by running one of said freezing feet up his calf.

He kicked her foot away, but was grinning as his did, following it up by leaning down to press another sweet kiss to her lips, then another to her forehead.

Lucy let out a contented sigh and let her head rest back on his shoulder. Before long, her eyes were fluttering shut as they very much not in the room earlier.

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep against Wyatt was that maybe it hadn't been the worst idea to go along with the trip. And hotel suites were totally overrated.

~FIN~

Was Lucy too skittish? Too bold? Was he too shmoopy? Has he really only ever dated Jessica? Would they ever get tickets to that festival? I dunno. It just all came out. I hope you liked it (because if you didn't, I'm getting three fewer hours of sleep tonight for no reason. And my students get a couple fewer corrected assignments back). Oh, and title is borrowed from Elton John's "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues". It's not a perfect fit, but it was on the radio during a long drive the other day, and a LOT of the phrasing in the lyrics reminded me of what might be in Wyatt's head these days.