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“Okoye! Ku laajik le lu'umo' [Get down!]”
The gruff shout came from behind her, and she reacted on instinct, dropping into a low crouch and kicking out the legs of the Sudanese mercenary she’d been fighting. The man’s body hit the deck of the cargo ship with a thud, and he let out a muted groan of pain as she buried the butt of her spear into his ribs, tasing him until he lost consciousness. Another thud sounded behind her, and Okoye whipped around to see Attuma’s scythe buried deep in another mercenary’s chest.
She stood and pried the weapon out of the dead man with a sigh, glancing over her shoulder to find its owner.
“I was only planning to incapacitate, krebe sisidenge [you stupid shark],” Okoye hissed, quickly creeping past a row of containers toward him.
“You have a funny way of saying ‘thank you’, in ts’iik,” Attuma replied, lumbering out from the shadows. He was surprisingly bare this evening, with no helm, chestplate, or pauldrons in sight. The lack of armor didn’t stop him from cutting an impressive silhouette against the night sky, of course, and her stomach did a pesky little somersault at the sight of him.
“Thank you for giving me a body to dispose of on an otherwise covert operation,” she sniped back with no small amount of sarcasm. Something else in her stomach settled at the familiar endearment.
Okoye ignored both somethings in favor of tossing Attuma’s scythe to him as she neared. He caught it in one hand and her elbow with the other, the already charming smirk on his face widening into an infuriating grin.
“If it’s cleanup you’re worried about, I’m happy to help,” he offered, all charm and dimples. He didn’t have his rebreather on, giving her a rare, unobstructed view of his face.
The picture was devastatingly handsome.
Okoye kissed the back of her teeth, “Help?! You’re doing all of it.”
This was hardly the first time he’d dropped in on one of her solo missions. It was, in fact, the sixth time. The first two times, Okoye chalked it up to pure coincidence. She’d been in Central America, chasing down leads on rogue alien tech as a favor to the new Captain America. Catching sight of his feathered shark helm off the coast of Honduras hadn’t exactly been on her agenda, but she couldn’t call it irregular. He’d been helpful in the end, using his little whale tricks to sink the ship with the contraband and– begrudgingly –save the culprits.
The third time, however, Okoye had been in Malaysia, and that was odd.
Still, she wasn’t particularly inclined to complain. The Shark General had his uses. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud. Nor would she ever reveal how she’d made it home after losing her kimoyos in the Adriatic Sea. And, according to Aneka, enjoying time with a man wasn’t a crime.
Knowing she was stuck with him for the duration of her mission, she tugged Attuma behind another row of containers as the bright overhead lights of the ship swept over the deck. Experience taught her that he wouldn’t leave until she made it onto whatever transport was taking her home, and Okoye had a sneaking suspicion he followed the transport, too. He had a habit of simply appearing whenever she found herself alone for more than five minutes.
Bast only knew why she found it endearing rather than exasperating.
She didn’t have the time to dwell on his stalker-like tendencies at the moment, however. There were three containers full of vibranium tech and weaponry somewhere on this ship. They’d been smuggled out of the Ethiopian outreach center, and it was her responsibility to find and tag them so they could be retrieved immediately. Thankfully, the treacherous dumbasses who’d smuggled the weaponry had forgotten about the satellite trackers that’d been installed on every piece of Wakandan military technology after Klaue’s invasion, and her mission was made simple as her kimoyos led her right to the smuggled munitions.
Keeping her eyes peeled and ears open, Okoye moved on light, silent feet toward the middle of the small feeder, allowing her beads to guide her in a series of vibrations. Attuma fell into step with her naturally, keeping at her back while she went on the hunt. It felt almost routine, which should’ve felt absurd. But, like many things of late, Okoye refused to question it.
Instead, she asked other questions.
“How did you even know I was here?” Her words could barely qualify as a whisper, but she knew he heard her.
It was the same thing she asked every time he disturbed her solitude, and still, she’d yet to receive a straightforward answer.
“I saw the hovercraft fly overhead while I was on Tabai,” he replied, trailing a half-step behind her and providing a wall of warmth against the biting breeze.
They snuck down a column of long shipping containers, pressing themselves against the cold, wet metal to conceal their bodies from the light, then darted across the last two rows before Attuma stopped her with a firm hand on her hip. The sound of two men around the corner filtered into her ears seconds later, and Okoye nodded imperceptibly, feeling Attuma’s hand fall away as she strained her ears to listen in on the mercenaries.
Both men were speaking lowly in Arabic, going about their patrol with no knowledge of her or Attuma’s presence. The overhead light swept over the ship, illuminating the mercenaries' bodies and casting shadows directly into her line of sight. She took careful stock of them. They were armed to the teeth, with large automatic guns slung about their torsos, likely American-made and likely equipped with heavy artillery and extended magazines. She also counted two additional holsters on each of them.
Okoye cursed, knowing she’d have to put them down quickly, then sent up a prayer for restraint she knew Attuma wouldn’t show. “Two heads. Armed,” she murmured.
She felt more than heard his answering grunt and continued in the same hushed voice, “Left is mine; you take the one on the right. On my count. Three.”
She tightened her hold on her spear, watching the shadows move closer.
“Two.”
Attuma tensed behind her, readying his scythe.
“One.”
They moved into action in one fluid motion.
Okoye spun around the corner in a flash, twirling her spear about her shoulders and knocking both men backward. She swung down as they stumbled, slicing through the barrel of their guns like butter, then used the staff of her spear to butt one of them in the head. Attuma was right behind her, raining heavy-handed swings down on the other mercenary, breaking the man’s handgun, then his leg. He swung again, going in for the kill, and Okoye deflected the blow with a glare.
“Incapacitate!” she reminded him, jabbing the butt of her spear into the downed man and tasing him.
“If he is your enemy, then he should be dead,” Attuma reasoned with a raised brow.
“He is not an enemy!” She snapped back, kicking her original target in the chest as he tried to get up, “He is an inconvenience.” She rolled her eyes and tased the other mercenary before he could make a grab for his other gun. “Dead bodies cause questions, indoda krebe. Missing bodies cause more questions. Questions you don’t have to answer.”
“Neither would you, if you’d let me kill them.”
“And then what? Are you going to kill everyone on the ship?”
“Would you like me to?”
He shot the question back so quickly she could only let out a huffing laugh, knowing he was only partially joking.
Bloodthirsty shark.
“No, Attuma; I think we can manage fine without that,” she said, rolling her eyes. They continued down the port side of the ship, and her kimoyos began to vibrate in long pulses. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your answer earlier, by the way.”
“What about it?” He asked, resting a hand on her back as they crossed the slippery deck.
“You and your whale just happened to be on the western side of the African continent, in the Mozambique Channel, and saw the hovercraft that dropped me off on this boat despite its stealth cloaking and the sky being pitch black?” She paused just to glance over her shoulder at him, quirking a pointed brow. He was silent for a moment too long, mouth working in a thin line, and Okoye bit her lip to stop the victorious grin from lighting up her face. Attuma without an answer was answer enough. “Umlandeli.”
The vibration on her kimoyos changed from long to short pulses before stopping entirely as they approached a stack of shipping containers in the furthest corner.
Bingo.
They circled the stack, standing between the tall rows for more cover.
“I thought we agreed not to use words the other doesn’t understand, in ts’iik,” he teased, leaning far closer than necessary as she passed him her spear.
Okoye tried to ignore the exciting trill that raced up her spine as the gruff tenor of his voice danced over her ear. She pulled two holo bases from her pocket and stuck them to the metallic frame.
“Considering you haven’t told me what that little phrase of yours means, I think I’m entitled to a few of my own,” she replied with a smirk. The accusation wasn’t completely fair—she knew what one part of the term meant.
Activating the screen, she pulled up an X-ray view of the container’s interior. The screen lit up like lanterns on the river, flagging every item of vibranium within. Her smirk widened into a grin. She pulled a kimoyo bead from her bracelet and stuck it to the frame, tapping it thrice to activate the tracking beacon.
“Found your loot?” Attuma asked, voice still low, face still close.
“Mmhm,” Okoye hummed, breathless. She turned her head, deactivating the holos without looking, and suddenly, they were nose to nose. “I still have to check the others, though,” she whispered, glancing upward, “Wanna give me a boost?”
He grinned something feral and moved far faster than she was ready for, crouching low and wrapping an arm around both her legs before she could blink. Okoye bit her tongue to stop the surprised squeal that bubbled in her throat as the hulking man hoisted her onto his shoulder, hands scrambling for a grip on wet metal before reaching down to catch his hair.
Attuma hissed as her fingers tightened in his wet locks, his arm tightening around her knees. “Easy, in Chak Ek’. I’ve got you.”
Okoye let out a weak laugh, and her stomach flip-flopped at the endearment.
That was new.
She untangled her fingers slowly running them through slick black strands in apology, echoing the sentiment with her words. “Sorry, masoyina.”
He readjusted his hold, moving his hand from her knees to her thighs, nudging her in acceptance. His body was warm under her, distractingly so, and his thumb was worse, rubbing gentle circles near the crease of her thigh. She blinked, trying to focus on the task ahead rather than the heat sweeping through her abdomen.
Affixing the holos to the second container, she activated the X-ray again. The screen lit up once more, highlighting the vast assortment of vibranium-wrought weapons within. Okoye swiped the screen away, disengaged the holos, and stuck another kimoyo to the metal.
Two down, one to go.
Assuming all three were in the same stack, the third container was a bit farther out of reach despite Attuma’s towering height. Her mind raced, scrambling for the quickest solution. The ship was too manned for a climbing attempt, and she certainly wasn’t going to stand on Attuma’s shoulders. She’d have to make do with a partial check.
Pulling one of Shuri’s earring-style kimoyos from behind her ear, she tossed it up, listening for the soft thunk of magnet attaching to metal. She pressed the other once it made contact, whispering a command to GRIOT, instructing him to scan for any traces of vibranium. The AI’s voice was equally soft in her ear, confirming her suspicions and bringing a pleased smile to her face.
Satisfied with her successful hunt, Okoye tapped Attuma’s hand. He brought her down gently, making sure both of her feet met the deck before standing to his full height. She tucked the holos back into her pocket and sucked in a sharp breath as his hand slowly traced over her hip and came to rest on her ribs. Heat curled up her spine, radiating throughout her body at his touch.
“Ma'alobech? [Good?]” he murmured, pressing his nose against her head.
“Yeah,” she exhaled, leaning back into him.
They breathed together for one slow, timeless second, then another. Okoye’s mind blurred and drifted off on its own accord, cataloging every word and touch and moment between them. Her thoughts lingered on the naturalness of their partnership and the ease with which they fought together. Her body remembered the security she’d felt in his arms moments ago and clung to the inexplicable rightness of how they fit together now.
She spun in his hold, riding high on a heady wave of intoxicating emotion, and trembled, finding his gaze locked on hers. His eyes were darker than the night sky above them, his pupils were blown wider than the ocean beneath them. She licked her lips, feeling her mouth go dry as his hand traced the curve of her back, and his gaze darted down, darkening into pools of molten obsidian. He pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together so tightly a sheet of paper couldn’t pass between them. Her heart leapt into her throat, thumping loud enough for them both to hear.
“Attuma—” She gasped his name softly, breath mingling with his as his mouth began to descend over hers.
Whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips at the sound of footsteps.
Eyes wide with panic, Okoye ducked her head and buried her face in Attuma’s shoulder. He pressed them back into the shadows, folding his body over hers like a shroud and cradling her like something precious. Her heart raced as she tried to slow her breathing. Stillness fell over them like a wave, turning them into statues. Her ears strained as they stood in perfect silence, listening as the footsteps passed their shadow by.
A litany of curses ran through her mind— for herself, Attuma, and the blasted patrol guard. Of all the damn times he could’ve picked to make a move, he chose the enemy ship?! She was on a mission, for Bast’s sake—they didn’t have the time to make out like lovestruck teenagers!
Not that she was completely blameless. The flirting and banter were old hat by now, but lately things had been… different. His gazes were heated, and his touch always seemed to linger. His smiles were a private thing between them, and his laughs were secrets just for her. His greetings were softer, tender, almost, and his goodbyes took too long. And the way he said her name…
The longer she thought about it, the more questions she had. Questions she needed answered before she could let herself fall further.
How much further was there to fall?
Another question she didn’t have the answer to. Or maybe she did, and she just didn’t know what to do with it. They’d been doing this dance for months, to what end, Okoye didn’t know—she didn’t have the courage to ask either.
She was fucked.
The footsteps finally receded, fading into the rhythmic sound of the sea, and they both exhaled. In one breath, she shrugged out of Attuma’s hold, and side-stepped him in the next. She kept her eyes on the deck, avoiding his questioning eyes and put a hand up to keep from his reaching grasp. Focus. She needed to focus, and she couldn’t do it with his hands on her. Even his proximity felt dangerous.
“Okoye?”
And there it was again.
Fuck.
Everything between them was jesting nicknames and hidden endearments, so much so that whenever he said her actual name, she didn’t know what to do. It made her weak in the knees. Even when it came as a question, her name sounded sacred when he said it. Every utterance was tender. Reverent. As if she were everything he wanted and more.
Gods above and below, she was so utterly fucked.
Her eyes watered, whether it was the breeze or the rush of emotions currently flooding her system, she couldn’t say. Her chest heaved as she took a shuddering breath, swiping the wetness away in frustration.
“You can’t just– We can’t–” Her voice was thick with emotions she didn’t have the courage to name, and she tried to swallow them to no avail.
The silence that fell between them was heavy, weighed down by all the things they hadn’t said.
Yet.
Attuma was the first to break it, voice coming low and full of uncertainty. “If I’ve misread this–” he began, the cocksure arrogance she adored falling away to something hesitant.
She hated it instantly.
Whether she was ready to admit it or not, Okoye knew she never wanted him to doubt this—whatever this was. She never wanted him to doubt her.
“You haven’t,” she cut in, urgency coloring her words, “You haven’t. I just–”
She needed him to know there was something here. Something she wanted, just as badly as he did. They just couldn’t have it now.
The ship light swept overhead, illuminating the furrow of his brow and the faint glimmer of something else shining in his eyes. Hurt, or maybe hope. She couldn’t tell, but the desire to wrap herself in his arms and forget the world warred with the weight of her responsibilities, and Okoye breathed a silent curse into the wind.
“In Chak Ek’,” he tried again, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
One of them had to have some self-control, for Bast’s sake.
She shook her head, pressing her lips together tightly as she tried to find a semblance of composure. Whatever little logic was left in her mind told her they needed to get off this ship. Another shuddering breath wracked her frame as she worked through her next steps, pulling two pairs of EMP beads from her pocket and studiously ignoring Attuma’s charged gaze locked on her. A delayed charged was set on both beads, then she rolled the first pair toward the portside tower. The next set would be for the starboard side; then, they would have five minutes until the ship went completely dark.
Okoye scanned the surrounding area and reached down to find her spear, flinching slightly when her hand met an empty holster.
She met his gaze slowly and found him staring just as intensely as she expected. He took a single step toward her, and she trembled.
“Attuma, please…” The plea was a whisper she knew he heard, yet it didn’t stop him. “Not… not here.”
A sliver of understanding lit in his eyes as he closed the distance between them and held out the shaft of her spear for her to take. She did so hesitantly, their fingers brushing as she grasped the cool metal. Attuma grabbed her wrist before she could put it away, holding her there for a moment too long.
“Not here?” He repeated her words in a question, asking much more than he’d ever had. His thumb pushed its way beneath her bodysuit, rubbing gentle circles against her pulse.
Bast damn him.
“Not here,” she confirmed, letting the words fall between them, knowing exactly what she meant. The remaining beads on her wrist vibrated in warning. “We have to go, masoyina.”
Attuma’s eyes softened at the endearment, and he nodded, squeezing her wrist gently before releasing her, “I’ll meet you by the bow.”
“Three minutes. By the bow,” Okoye nodded back, “Make sure you clean up your mess, too,” she quipped, or tried to at least, but her laugh sounded hollow. She turned on her heel and darted away, rushing to drop the other charges at the base of the starboard tower.
Two minutes now.
Careful and quick, she wove between the aisles and rows, pressing her body against the stacks to keep out of sight. By the time she caught up to Attuma, the ship deck was clear. He’d collected the mercenaries they’d previously downed, leaving them all in a heap against the forwardmost container, and had the last man slung over his shoulders like a sack of cassava.
“And what exactly are you planning to do with him, eh?” Okoye asked, gesturing at the dead man.
“I will take him below,” Attuma answered in perfect nonchalance. “His flesh will feed the fish, and his bones will turn to dust.”
She blinked, somehow still surprised at his bluntness despite all the time they spent together. “Well, I suppose that’s better than anything I could’ve offered,” she sniffed with a shrug.
The Shark General hummed lowly before tossing the mercenary’s body overboard without ceremony. Okoye barely heard the splash.“How much longer?”
“Less than a minute,” she answered, checking her watch. Whatever levity they might’ve had started with was replaced with a tension she didn’t know how to navigate. She turned to him with questions and answers, desires and pleas burning on her tongue, and no time for any of it. It didn’t stop the want in her voice when she called his name. “Attuma…”
She didn’t know where to begin.
She didn’t know how to begin.
He turned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. Her hands found the broad expanse of his shoulders without thought on her part. Okoye felt his lips murmuring against her hairline, whispering words against her skin she didn’t understand. When he’d said his piece, Attuma let his lips rest there, and her eyes slipped shut, finding solace in his embrace. Warmth flooded her, flowing all the way down to the tips of her toes.
Fucked. So, so, so fucked.
For a moment, infinitesimal, it was just them.
There were no missions, no mercenaries. No kingdoms, no kings. No list of reasons why they couldn't or shouldn’t.
Just them.
Them and the vast expanse of unspoken things between them.
Bast help them both.
“Your transport is here, in Chak Ek’.”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, the lights of the ship went dark. Even the quiet hum of the engine had gone silent as the EMPs did their work.
Attuma took a step back, and Okoye bit her tongue to stop the protest that nearly slipped off it. The taste of copper flooded her mouth as his warmth gave way to cold sea air, and she blinked rapidly in the darkness, trying to find his face in the weak moonlight. She reached for his arm and caught his hand. Their fingers threaded together with unbidden ease.
“Will I see you at this month’s training seminar?” She chanced the question, knowing he despised them, yet hoping he’d find indulgence for her.
“Do you wish to?”
His response was an answer all on its own, and she smiled weakly.
“Yes.”
“Then you will.” Simple, almost everything was with him.
He lifted their joined hands and untangled their fingers to press a soft kiss in the center of her palm, sealing his words like a promise. Okoye melted, tracing her thumb along the apple of his cheek. His eyes drifted shut, savoring her affection, and when he released her hand, she curled it into a fist, as if his would escape on the breeze. Her kimoyos buzzed in rapid pulses, reminding her that she had to go. She wasn’t ready yet, however inconvenient their location, and she cursed the gods and their abominable timing.
She opened her mouth to say everything and nothing, but Attuma was faster. “Time for you to go, in Chak Ek’. Cross your arms.”
Okoye did as she was bid, and the soft glow of the beam illuminated his face and body. His brow was furrowed, and his mouth was set in a firm line. Coupled with the fists balled at his side, she could swear he wanted to keep her. Maybe whisk her away to a place where they didn’t have to steal moments during her missions or face the endless politicking that awaited them in their kingdoms.
She’d let him if he ever dared.
Her feet lifted off the deck as the ship began to pull her up, and she found his dark eyes again. “Be safe, masoyina. Dawo gu na [Come back to me].”
Okoye didn’t know if he understood, but Attuma nodded all the same, steady eyes watching until the entry bay closed underneath her. A pang settled in her chest as the Talon Fighter flew further and further from the mercenary ship—further from him—but it wasn't until she was back in Birnin Nygana that she realized what was wrong.
She missed him.
Fuck.