Fic: Had the Guts, Got the Glory
Title: Had the Guts, Got the Glory
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: K+
Genres: gen, slightly het
Recipient: yappichick
Prompt: Star Wars, Delvin Sandwalker, anything with him being a badass
Summary: Delvin Sandwalker didn't defect to the Rebellion to have to beat up little whiny boy wonders from Tatooine.
A/N: Holiday Fic Request Meme. Well. Some of you will probably go "Huh?" at this, mostly because I'm not done with posting chapters of Not in Kansas Anymore, the big bang story. But you have met Delv already in chapter seven of said story and those of you who read the entire story here (or are one of the people who read the entire story during the writing process :D) know who he is. Everyone else who doesn't like spoilers and is following Not in Kansas Anymore here in LJ: don't read it. Everyone else: enjoy. And look again at yappichick's awesome fanart, while you're at it :D
Had the Guts, Got the Glory
“Risin' up, straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive.”
Survivor, “Eye of the Tiger”
“He’s probably half your age, Major,” is what she says and smirks at him.
“He’s probably half your age, Commander,” is what he growls back. She keeps smirking.
“Half our age and a hot shot pilot.” So?
“Ain’t no better reason to thrash the sucker.” Apart from the fact that it was an order, that is.
“He’s half our age, a hot shot pilot and he’s from Tatooine.” Of course she’d say that. Ever since that Skywalker kid blew up the karking Death Star, every other Tatooine native in the Fleet and the Starfighter Corps and the Army got to hear it. That kid’s from Tatooine. So do some fucking miracles yourself, fucking desert rats.
He glares at Moren. “What are you trying to say? That I can’t or shouldn’t beat the kark out of him?”
She shrugs. “I’m just saying that you might get your ass handed on a platter to you, that’s all.”
He rolls his shoulders. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No, actually…” She catches herself. Before saying what? That she’d like to have his ass handed to her? In his dreams, probably. Repeatedly, actually. “Anyway. Kid’s said to have some tricks up his sleeves. Hand to hand combat was never your strong suit at the Academy. I’m just saying.”
He ignores her little slip of tongue. “Been ten years since the Academy, Mor. A man learns a couple things out here in the Rim.” Mostly not to underestimate people, no matter how scrawny and whiny they are. And Luke Skywalker is even more whiny than he’s scrawny.
“Guess you learned how to hurt Rebels best.” Was there a tinge of bitterness in her voice? After all those months he told her about wanting to defect, got a clean slate, even saved her guys’ asses a couple of times when he’s just regular Infantry, instead of Special Ops?
It’s easier to stretch his neck muscles one more time instead of looking at her. “Not funny, Commander.”
“No, it’s not.” No more muscles to stretch so he’s got to look at her again. “Come on, kick his scrawny little redneck ass, Delv.” Same “no excuses, no apologies” policy as at the Academy, he sees. He’s glad she never changed that.
So. It’s a good way to send him off to the mat where a teenage boy wonder is waiting to get the shit beat out of him by a veteran of one war on two sides to prepare him for some high profile retrieval or spy or whatever mission. It seems hardly fair that Major Delvin Sandwalker would get the kid while Captain No One Can Pronounce Her Real Name Boss got both the Princess and the smuggler. It’s what happens when some fuckwit up the chain of command gets it in their stupid little head that it would be funny to see two desert rats fight it out.
Usually, the couple minutes before a fight are there to intimidate the opponent by cracking your neck, flexing your muscles, the usual bullshit. That’s not how they teach it at the Academy. You do that there, you’re flat on your back so fast you’ll never see it coming. He’s speaking from experience. Skywalker never went to the Imperial Academy on Carida.
Kid’s not stupid enough to try any bragging stuff now. He’s not smart enough to observe his opponent closely, either. So he lands on his back the moment the instructor opened the fight.
Or at least that’s how it was supposed to go. He’d visualized it, went for Skywalker’s legs but the kid never made any other contact with the floor than on his feet. Weird, he thinks, and tries not to think about the rumors about that Force thing and those Jedi never really having been extinct. He attributes Skywalker’s swiftness to luck.
It proves to be a fatal mistake. When he attempts one of his dirtier moves, Skywalker makes a surprised sound and ducks shortly before a naked foot connects with his temple. It makes for a pretty undignified landing on the floor but he got used to undignified in ten years of service for the Galactic Empire. Took him until after a defection to get promoted to field grade, after all.
He uses his seeming weakness and waits until the kid is stupid enough to come closer and try his luck on the ground. When Skywalker is within range and too close to get away as easily as the last two times, he rolls from his back to his side and uncoils like plasteel rope to slam his entire body weight into the kid. Kid lands on the matt with a satisfying thud.
He’s pretty sure he heard a few gasps from the edges of the matt and even thinks he might have picked out the Princess among those shocked debutantes. He sees a flash of Moren’s smirk across the room, too. Immediately the hairs on the back of his neck raise.
Only a second later, Skywalker somehow managed to crawl out of the choke hold he had him in and he keeps ignoring the rumors about the Jedi never having died out at all. Right now his most pressing concern is that the kids just can’t seem to get up the guts to attack. He’s good at evasive maneuvers but he lacks aggressiveness. If he’s supposed to survive on an undercover mission, he shouldn’t be afraid of going in for the kill. The Princess and the smuggler sure as hell didn’t mind that.
He charges at the kid again but when the attack is aborted this time, it’s on purpose. He stops right in front of the kid, only a few inches away from his face, close to growl some insult, if that had been his intention. There’d been a couple guys who’d tried that with him at the Academy and after that. None of them are alive today, as far as he knows. It never became his style.
Instead he draws back a little, keeps chasing Skywalker around the matt until he’s starting to believe the kid’s trying to see how long he can keep that up. He once did that for an hour before, against a Lieutenant ten years younger than him. The Lieutenant never challenged him again. He got promoted over his head but he never challenged him again. He thinks Skywalker might have balls and brains enough to stop with the evasive maneuvers before ending like the Lieutenant.
Only ten minutes later he’s ready to correct his assessment. Despite receiving encouragement mainly from tough talker smuggler, Skywalker still hasn’t made a real move and the moves he made were… no, pathetic is the wrong word. They really could have been dangerous if he’d just driven on. Mentally, he shakes his head, then decides to take the velvet gloves off.
He provokes a counterattack from Skywalker by knocking his shoulder into the kid’s chest, just hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs for a moment and make it hurt enough for the kid to want to retaliate… which he does. Skywalker starts, head forward, landing himself in a headlock, having his legs kicked away from under him and landing roughly on his stomach.
All the time he never lets go of Skywalker’s neck. When the kid is on his stomach, he kneels next to him, pulls his head upwards enough to make the kid’s back hurt when he puts his knee between his shoulder blades. All the while the kid is struggling and it gives him hope to see that Skywalker never actually stops putting up an effort to get out of this. Until he suddenly notices a charge in the air.
It’s subtle at first so he doesn’t really pay it any attention. He doesn’t even pay the spectators any attention. Most of them, anyway. He still notices Mor, her face now in a frown and just keeps holding Skywalker down, applying pressure where it really hurts, just to see for how long the kid can hold it up… when it suddenly feels as if something is gonna happen any moment. Something…
Emperor’s black bones.
He’s pretty sure whatever the kid just did to get free, it surprised the kid most of everyone in the room. One minute he was holding Skywalker down and the next he was flying through the air, at least one or two feet and landing squarely on his ass, feeling as if a giant fist just hit his chest. He struggles to breathe for a moment and his gaze falls on Skywalker’s face. The boy is standing upright, staring wide-eyed at the ex-trooper on the floor and then turning tail, fleeing as if being hunted by a couple mad Sith witches.
After another stunned second, he hears the Princess exclaim “Luke!” and sees her move to follow the kid, the smuggler hot on her heels. The rest of the spectators starts leaving, too. Except Moren, who comes sauntering over and crouches down in front of him. She grins a little, “Hey, don’t worry, you still wiped the floor with him, Delv.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not about wiping the floor with someone, Mor. It’s about survival.”
He expects her to tell him right away that he has no idea of how Special Ops work because it’s what she usually does when he gives her some piece of infantry wisdom but all she does is frown again. “Think he can do it?”
Well. Obviously, she really asked for his opinion. He considers. Skywalker, the Princess and the smuggler are supposed to infiltrate some noble’s palace or other on some world called Nyemari and Krayt team handles their training, briefing and backup for the op. Judging from what he saw today… Skywalker has some major issues with himself. But he’s got friends watching out for him. He shrugs. “We’ll see. If he doesn’t, I’m sure the Alliance can find another young fool stupid enough to be their next shining star. They’re a credit a dozen around here.”
That makes Moren roll her eyes and get up. “Aren’t we a merry little cynic today.”
She doesn’t offer him her hand and he wouldn’t have taken it. He gets up in one fluid move, able to hide pretty well that the little blast out of the blue left a couple bruises. “Always, Mor.”
They make their make their way out of the workout room when she says, “Hey, I don’t mind it, really. Actually, it’s what I love about you.”
He stops. Her eyebrows are raised and there’s a strange look in her eyes. He remembers similar little exchanges in the past months… years. Since before he came back to her… since before he defected. And he remembers telling that Lorne guy about not tempting fate by telling yourself you couldn’t act on any attractions because someone is your subordinate or some such nonsense. Virina isn’t even his subordinate. She never was. In fourteen years she never was his subordinate. He makes a decision, right here and now, in the workout room on a Rebel ship, after a not quite normal training fight. Now’s as good as ever. “Care for a drink tonight?”
Her reaction is surely not what he’d expected. “Why, Delvin Corbinian Sandwalker, did you just ask me out on a date?”
It’s the twinkle in her eyes that nearly does him in and makes him say yes. However, even after that fight, he still has some dignity left he longs to protect, even from her. “If you ever say that name out loud again, not even your precious little Special Ops friends will be able to find all of your pieces.”
“What, Delvin?” Protecting his dignity from her had never been his strongest suit. And she knows it. The continuing, maddening twinkle in her eyes confirms that.
“Watch it,” he growls back, intend on ending this conversation. Asking her for a drink is turning out into a damn bad idea rapidly. Because if she keeps doing that, he might feel compelled to skip drinking altogether.
“I’d rather watch other things.” But then again, feeling compelled to wanting to skip drinking or eating or generally being decent is kind of his normal state of being in her presence. Has been… probably ever since he first got to know her.
That’s no reason not to clarify a few things, though. “It’s not a date.”
It makes her grin. That’s not what it was supposed to do because damn, he was supposed to keep it in his pants at least for another couple of hours. He could do it for fourteen years. “I’d have said yes if it were.”
Fourteen long years in which she never said anything like that before. Instead she’d probably have kicked his ass and then asked him who he was and what he’d done with Delvin Sandwalker. He finally starts to realize it wasn’t necessarily the fact that he was Cadman’s superior that kept Lorne from making a move on the Lieutenant. He just hopes Lorne was as shit scared as he is in the face of a new and foggy road opening up to him. And if he wanted to protect himself so badly as he suddenly wants to. “It’s not.”
Moren cocks her head to the side, looking at him, curiously now. As if she can see right through him. She always could but it was never as scary as it is right this moment. “So you keep saying.”
Damn it, he can’t take it anymore. He just got his ass kicked by some boy Jedi wannabe and he’ll go back to leading infantry troops against his former fellow troopers the day after tomorrow and he’ll probably do that until some stray laser beam catches him in the chest or a thermal detonator disintegrates him but that’s not getting to him. Not even the whole having lost a training fight against a kid half his age thing.
No, it’s Moren and the possibilities he never dared to embrace before and the slight chance she might actually reciprocate that does him in. Suddenly he can’t breathe. He swallows. “Virina…”
“My quarters, 1900 sharp.” What… oh. Oh well.
He swallows again. “Yes, ma’am.” It’s not that she outranks him. It’s just that she can be so damn… commanding, like she just was so it’s easy at first to overlook what occurs to him when she marches out of the workout room, after having given him a curt nod. She’s just as a scared as him. Lieutenant Commander Virina Moren who can fly a lambda-class shuttle missing a wing and a starboard stabilizer through a phalanx of TIE-fighters without her fingers even trembling is just as scared as him of the new possibilities that just opened up at them, just like that.
It’s a good sign, he tells himself. It has to be because then at least this lost fight will have had some purpose. And because it’s been fourteen years and he just can’t wait another day. Not when every day could be his last. He just hopes to the Gods she thinks the same way. He’d be pretty much screwed if she didn’t.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: K+
Genres: gen, slightly het
Recipient: yappichick
Prompt: Star Wars, Delvin Sandwalker, anything with him being a badass
Summary: Delvin Sandwalker didn't defect to the Rebellion to have to beat up little whiny boy wonders from Tatooine.
A/N: Holiday Fic Request Meme. Well. Some of you will probably go "Huh?" at this, mostly because I'm not done with posting chapters of Not in Kansas Anymore, the big bang story. But you have met Delv already in chapter seven of said story and those of you who read the entire story here (or are one of the people who read the entire story during the writing process :D) know who he is. Everyone else who doesn't like spoilers and is following Not in Kansas Anymore here in LJ: don't read it. Everyone else: enjoy. And look again at yappichick's awesome fanart, while you're at it :D
Had the Guts, Got the Glory
“Risin' up, straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive.”
Survivor, “Eye of the Tiger”
“He’s probably half your age, Major,” is what she says and smirks at him.
“He’s probably half your age, Commander,” is what he growls back. She keeps smirking.
“Half our age and a hot shot pilot.” So?
“Ain’t no better reason to thrash the sucker.” Apart from the fact that it was an order, that is.
“He’s half our age, a hot shot pilot and he’s from Tatooine.” Of course she’d say that. Ever since that Skywalker kid blew up the karking Death Star, every other Tatooine native in the Fleet and the Starfighter Corps and the Army got to hear it. That kid’s from Tatooine. So do some fucking miracles yourself, fucking desert rats.
He glares at Moren. “What are you trying to say? That I can’t or shouldn’t beat the kark out of him?”
She shrugs. “I’m just saying that you might get your ass handed on a platter to you, that’s all.”
He rolls his shoulders. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No, actually…” She catches herself. Before saying what? That she’d like to have his ass handed to her? In his dreams, probably. Repeatedly, actually. “Anyway. Kid’s said to have some tricks up his sleeves. Hand to hand combat was never your strong suit at the Academy. I’m just saying.”
He ignores her little slip of tongue. “Been ten years since the Academy, Mor. A man learns a couple things out here in the Rim.” Mostly not to underestimate people, no matter how scrawny and whiny they are. And Luke Skywalker is even more whiny than he’s scrawny.
“Guess you learned how to hurt Rebels best.” Was there a tinge of bitterness in her voice? After all those months he told her about wanting to defect, got a clean slate, even saved her guys’ asses a couple of times when he’s just regular Infantry, instead of Special Ops?
It’s easier to stretch his neck muscles one more time instead of looking at her. “Not funny, Commander.”
“No, it’s not.” No more muscles to stretch so he’s got to look at her again. “Come on, kick his scrawny little redneck ass, Delv.” Same “no excuses, no apologies” policy as at the Academy, he sees. He’s glad she never changed that.
So. It’s a good way to send him off to the mat where a teenage boy wonder is waiting to get the shit beat out of him by a veteran of one war on two sides to prepare him for some high profile retrieval or spy or whatever mission. It seems hardly fair that Major Delvin Sandwalker would get the kid while Captain No One Can Pronounce Her Real Name Boss got both the Princess and the smuggler. It’s what happens when some fuckwit up the chain of command gets it in their stupid little head that it would be funny to see two desert rats fight it out.
Usually, the couple minutes before a fight are there to intimidate the opponent by cracking your neck, flexing your muscles, the usual bullshit. That’s not how they teach it at the Academy. You do that there, you’re flat on your back so fast you’ll never see it coming. He’s speaking from experience. Skywalker never went to the Imperial Academy on Carida.
Kid’s not stupid enough to try any bragging stuff now. He’s not smart enough to observe his opponent closely, either. So he lands on his back the moment the instructor opened the fight.
Or at least that’s how it was supposed to go. He’d visualized it, went for Skywalker’s legs but the kid never made any other contact with the floor than on his feet. Weird, he thinks, and tries not to think about the rumors about that Force thing and those Jedi never really having been extinct. He attributes Skywalker’s swiftness to luck.
It proves to be a fatal mistake. When he attempts one of his dirtier moves, Skywalker makes a surprised sound and ducks shortly before a naked foot connects with his temple. It makes for a pretty undignified landing on the floor but he got used to undignified in ten years of service for the Galactic Empire. Took him until after a defection to get promoted to field grade, after all.
He uses his seeming weakness and waits until the kid is stupid enough to come closer and try his luck on the ground. When Skywalker is within range and too close to get away as easily as the last two times, he rolls from his back to his side and uncoils like plasteel rope to slam his entire body weight into the kid. Kid lands on the matt with a satisfying thud.
He’s pretty sure he heard a few gasps from the edges of the matt and even thinks he might have picked out the Princess among those shocked debutantes. He sees a flash of Moren’s smirk across the room, too. Immediately the hairs on the back of his neck raise.
Only a second later, Skywalker somehow managed to crawl out of the choke hold he had him in and he keeps ignoring the rumors about the Jedi never having died out at all. Right now his most pressing concern is that the kids just can’t seem to get up the guts to attack. He’s good at evasive maneuvers but he lacks aggressiveness. If he’s supposed to survive on an undercover mission, he shouldn’t be afraid of going in for the kill. The Princess and the smuggler sure as hell didn’t mind that.
He charges at the kid again but when the attack is aborted this time, it’s on purpose. He stops right in front of the kid, only a few inches away from his face, close to growl some insult, if that had been his intention. There’d been a couple guys who’d tried that with him at the Academy and after that. None of them are alive today, as far as he knows. It never became his style.
Instead he draws back a little, keeps chasing Skywalker around the matt until he’s starting to believe the kid’s trying to see how long he can keep that up. He once did that for an hour before, against a Lieutenant ten years younger than him. The Lieutenant never challenged him again. He got promoted over his head but he never challenged him again. He thinks Skywalker might have balls and brains enough to stop with the evasive maneuvers before ending like the Lieutenant.
Only ten minutes later he’s ready to correct his assessment. Despite receiving encouragement mainly from tough talker smuggler, Skywalker still hasn’t made a real move and the moves he made were… no, pathetic is the wrong word. They really could have been dangerous if he’d just driven on. Mentally, he shakes his head, then decides to take the velvet gloves off.
He provokes a counterattack from Skywalker by knocking his shoulder into the kid’s chest, just hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs for a moment and make it hurt enough for the kid to want to retaliate… which he does. Skywalker starts, head forward, landing himself in a headlock, having his legs kicked away from under him and landing roughly on his stomach.
All the time he never lets go of Skywalker’s neck. When the kid is on his stomach, he kneels next to him, pulls his head upwards enough to make the kid’s back hurt when he puts his knee between his shoulder blades. All the while the kid is struggling and it gives him hope to see that Skywalker never actually stops putting up an effort to get out of this. Until he suddenly notices a charge in the air.
It’s subtle at first so he doesn’t really pay it any attention. He doesn’t even pay the spectators any attention. Most of them, anyway. He still notices Mor, her face now in a frown and just keeps holding Skywalker down, applying pressure where it really hurts, just to see for how long the kid can hold it up… when it suddenly feels as if something is gonna happen any moment. Something…
Emperor’s black bones.
He’s pretty sure whatever the kid just did to get free, it surprised the kid most of everyone in the room. One minute he was holding Skywalker down and the next he was flying through the air, at least one or two feet and landing squarely on his ass, feeling as if a giant fist just hit his chest. He struggles to breathe for a moment and his gaze falls on Skywalker’s face. The boy is standing upright, staring wide-eyed at the ex-trooper on the floor and then turning tail, fleeing as if being hunted by a couple mad Sith witches.
After another stunned second, he hears the Princess exclaim “Luke!” and sees her move to follow the kid, the smuggler hot on her heels. The rest of the spectators starts leaving, too. Except Moren, who comes sauntering over and crouches down in front of him. She grins a little, “Hey, don’t worry, you still wiped the floor with him, Delv.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not about wiping the floor with someone, Mor. It’s about survival.”
He expects her to tell him right away that he has no idea of how Special Ops work because it’s what she usually does when he gives her some piece of infantry wisdom but all she does is frown again. “Think he can do it?”
Well. Obviously, she really asked for his opinion. He considers. Skywalker, the Princess and the smuggler are supposed to infiltrate some noble’s palace or other on some world called Nyemari and Krayt team handles their training, briefing and backup for the op. Judging from what he saw today… Skywalker has some major issues with himself. But he’s got friends watching out for him. He shrugs. “We’ll see. If he doesn’t, I’m sure the Alliance can find another young fool stupid enough to be their next shining star. They’re a credit a dozen around here.”
That makes Moren roll her eyes and get up. “Aren’t we a merry little cynic today.”
She doesn’t offer him her hand and he wouldn’t have taken it. He gets up in one fluid move, able to hide pretty well that the little blast out of the blue left a couple bruises. “Always, Mor.”
They make their make their way out of the workout room when she says, “Hey, I don’t mind it, really. Actually, it’s what I love about you.”
He stops. Her eyebrows are raised and there’s a strange look in her eyes. He remembers similar little exchanges in the past months… years. Since before he came back to her… since before he defected. And he remembers telling that Lorne guy about not tempting fate by telling yourself you couldn’t act on any attractions because someone is your subordinate or some such nonsense. Virina isn’t even his subordinate. She never was. In fourteen years she never was his subordinate. He makes a decision, right here and now, in the workout room on a Rebel ship, after a not quite normal training fight. Now’s as good as ever. “Care for a drink tonight?”
Her reaction is surely not what he’d expected. “Why, Delvin Corbinian Sandwalker, did you just ask me out on a date?”
It’s the twinkle in her eyes that nearly does him in and makes him say yes. However, even after that fight, he still has some dignity left he longs to protect, even from her. “If you ever say that name out loud again, not even your precious little Special Ops friends will be able to find all of your pieces.”
“What, Delvin?” Protecting his dignity from her had never been his strongest suit. And she knows it. The continuing, maddening twinkle in her eyes confirms that.
“Watch it,” he growls back, intend on ending this conversation. Asking her for a drink is turning out into a damn bad idea rapidly. Because if she keeps doing that, he might feel compelled to skip drinking altogether.
“I’d rather watch other things.” But then again, feeling compelled to wanting to skip drinking or eating or generally being decent is kind of his normal state of being in her presence. Has been… probably ever since he first got to know her.
That’s no reason not to clarify a few things, though. “It’s not a date.”
It makes her grin. That’s not what it was supposed to do because damn, he was supposed to keep it in his pants at least for another couple of hours. He could do it for fourteen years. “I’d have said yes if it were.”
Fourteen long years in which she never said anything like that before. Instead she’d probably have kicked his ass and then asked him who he was and what he’d done with Delvin Sandwalker. He finally starts to realize it wasn’t necessarily the fact that he was Cadman’s superior that kept Lorne from making a move on the Lieutenant. He just hopes Lorne was as shit scared as he is in the face of a new and foggy road opening up to him. And if he wanted to protect himself so badly as he suddenly wants to. “It’s not.”
Moren cocks her head to the side, looking at him, curiously now. As if she can see right through him. She always could but it was never as scary as it is right this moment. “So you keep saying.”
Damn it, he can’t take it anymore. He just got his ass kicked by some boy Jedi wannabe and he’ll go back to leading infantry troops against his former fellow troopers the day after tomorrow and he’ll probably do that until some stray laser beam catches him in the chest or a thermal detonator disintegrates him but that’s not getting to him. Not even the whole having lost a training fight against a kid half his age thing.
No, it’s Moren and the possibilities he never dared to embrace before and the slight chance she might actually reciprocate that does him in. Suddenly he can’t breathe. He swallows. “Virina…”
“My quarters, 1900 sharp.” What… oh. Oh well.
He swallows again. “Yes, ma’am.” It’s not that she outranks him. It’s just that she can be so damn… commanding, like she just was so it’s easy at first to overlook what occurs to him when she marches out of the workout room, after having given him a curt nod. She’s just as a scared as him. Lieutenant Commander Virina Moren who can fly a lambda-class shuttle missing a wing and a starboard stabilizer through a phalanx of TIE-fighters without her fingers even trembling is just as scared as him of the new possibilities that just opened up at them, just like that.
It’s a good sign, he tells himself. It has to be because then at least this lost fight will have had some purpose. And because it’s been fourteen years and he just can’t wait another day. Not when every day could be his last. He just hopes to the Gods she thinks the same way. He’d be pretty much screwed if she didn’t.