RICKMAS 2024

The line they’d drawn between them had started to blur, smudged by the small moments that piled up like kindling. It was in the quiet, in-between times—like when Olivia sat cross-legged on the couch snuggled up against Sinclair as they discussed plot holes in the latest and allegedly greatest mystery series on TV, or when they caught each other humming along to the radio in the car—that it became harder to ignore.

Sinclair felt it in the ache of watching her leave after an evening together, a hollow tug in his chest as her car disappeared down the lane. Olivia sensed it in the moments of silence when his gaze lingered on her, earnest and unguarded, as if trying to tell her everything he wouldn’t yet say.

The tension simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniably present, waiting for the moment when neither of them could pretend it wasn’t there anymore.

Olivia and Sinclair found a rhythm that felt almost effortless, each balancing the other in ways neither had realized they needed. Olivia’s sharp sense of order and timekeeping ensured they stayed on track, from making dinner reservations to planning weekend getaways. She had a knack for cutting through Sinclair’s occasional tendency to meander, keeping him grounded when his enthusiasm threatened to steer them off course.

On the flip side, Sinclair was her reminder to take a breath, slow down, and simply enjoy the day. He had a way of finding joy in the smallest things—whether it was the perfect cappuccino from a local café or a quirky antique shop they stumbled across. His infectious optimism nudged her out of her rigid focus, showing her that not every moment needed to be productive to be meaningful.

Their evenings often became a ritual of decompressing together. Over wine or tea, they would recount their respective mishaps at work, their stories interweaving as they laughed at the absurdities of their days. One evening, Sinclair came home exasperated after a wealthy client complained about losing millions over a failed trend, but Olivia’s recollection of a minor midair equipment failure—one she had expertly handled—put things into perspective.

“At least no one’s plummeting from the sky,” she quipped, earning a chuckle from Sinclair.

And when Olivia sat at her desk one night, groaning over the self-evaluation forms she had to fill out for her promotion packet, Sinclair leaned over, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re brilliant,” he murmured. “You’re resourceful, tough, and people look up to you. Just write what I see every day.”

She turned her head, her frustration easing at his simple but heartfelt reassurance. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Now, get it done so we can open that wine and watch that awful reality show you pretend not to like.”

“You like it too!”

Together, they created a space where the weight of their respective worlds seemed lighter. The problems they carried into their shared moments didn’t feel as insurmountable as they had alone, and slowly but surely, they each became the steady anchor the other didn’t know they needed. But it was still…separate and neither were sure how to move forward.

The pub near base buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. Olivia sat in the booth, wedged against the wall, trapped by Anderson, while Jenny and Khan sat across from them, sipping their pints. Rain drizzled outside, streaking the windows and adding a cozy atmosphere to their usual hangout.

“So,” Jenny began with a sly grin, leaning forward on her elbows, “when are we meeting this Sinclair?”

Olivia paused mid-sip, setting her glass down with a soft clink. Running a hand through her hair, she shifted in her seat, searching for the right response. “That’s… a big deal,” she answered cautiously. “We’re taking things slow.”

Anderson smirked, her eyebrow quirking in challenge. “But you’ve spent the night with him.”

Heat crept up Olivia’s neck and into her cheeks. She glanced at Khan, who was clearly trying not to laugh, before turning back to Anderson. “Not like that,” she said firmly, her face fully red now. “We haven’t… crossed that line. At my request.”

Jenny’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but her smile was warm. “Huh. Respect to the man.” She turned to her husband. “And to think I ended up in the back of a truck with you in high school.”

“And so our love story began,” Khan grinned cheekily before turning to Olivia, his face turning thoughtful. “That’s impressive, Liv. We’re happy for you. And, not to stir the pot, but you’re definitely a lot happier than you ever were with David.”

“Thanks, guys.” Olivia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll admit, Sinclair’s… different.”

“And by different, you mean better,” Anderson teased, earning a laugh from all. “God, David was such a miserable asshole.”

“Why don’t you bring Sinclair family dinner?” Khan suggested. “Let’s meet this guy who’s clearly doing something right.”

“I may steal him,” Jenny added, playfully swatting Khan’s shoulder. “It’ll be fun.”

Olivia balked, her head shaking before Jenny even finished speaking. “I don’t know. He’s used to… I don’t know, nicer things. Dinners in cozy kitchens with wine and soft music, not backyard barbecues with half-burned burgers and us yelling at the kids to stop fighting over the last hot dog.”

Khan looked insulted. “There will be more than hotdogs and I never burn the burgers!”

Jenny elbowed her husband and waved Olivia’s worry off, smirking. “Too bad. He’s in too deep now.”

“She’s right,” Khan agreed, grinning. “He’s been around this long, a backyard barbecue’s not gonna scare him off.”

Anderson nodded sagely, lifting her glass. “It’s the ultimate test. If he can survive us, he’s a keeper.”

Olivia groaned, burying her face in her hands as her friends laughed. She couldn’t deny the warmth that filled her at the thought of Sinclair meeting her adopted family. Maybe, just maybe, it was time.

The smell of curry filled Sinclair’s office as Olivia set the takeout containers on his desk, brushing aside a stack of neatly organized papers. He glanced up from his monitor, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Dinner delivery service?” he teased, standing to stretch before gesturing for her to sit. “And here I was prepared to power through on black coffee and sheer determination.”

“Thought I’d save you from yourself,” Olivia replied, rolling her eyes as she handed him his utensils. “Even you need more than caffeine.”

They settled in across from each other, Sinclair eagerly digging into his curry. Between bites, he leaned back in his chair, watching Olivia with a smile that was as much gratitude as it was fondness.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, gesturing with his plastic fork. “I owe you one, darling.”

Olivia smiled, shaking her head at the little heart flip every time he called her darling. “You’ll have plenty of chances. Actually…” She trailed off, swirling her food around in its container as she gathered her thoughts.

Sinclair tilted his head, noticing her hesitation. “Actually?”

She cleared her throat. “So, uh, Khan and the crew are having a barbecue on base this weekend. Kind of a family dinner thing. They asked me to bring you.”

Sinclair’s face lit up almost immediately, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “A barbecue? With your crew?”

“Yeah,” Olivia chuckled. “Think of it like my dysfunctional found family. We’ve yet to find any good barbecue here and Khan decided to take matters into his own hands. They’ve been hounding me about meeting, and I figured… it’s time if you wan—”

“I’m in,” he said without hesitation, his smile widening and not just at the prospect of sampling new food. Olivia felt comfortable enough to introduce him to her world. “We’ll have a marvelous time.”

Her shoulders relaxed as she laughed softly. “You say that now, but don’t come crying to me when Khan’s kids pelt you with water balloons.”

“I’ll come prepared,” Sinclair joked, leaning forward. “So, what’s the plan? Is it casual, or do I need to iron a shirt?”

“Oh, it’s casual.” Olivia relaxed, leaning back into the chair. “Super casual. Like jeans and T-shirts, paper plates, and lawn chairs kind of casual. No wine, just beer. Think backyard chaos, not a garden party.”

Sinclair grinned. “Sounds perfect.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes playfully. “Just wait for the beer pong, roasting, and embarrassing stories.”

“I’ll survive,” Sinclair replied with a mock-serious nod. “Besides, it’ll take more than water balloons and embarrassing stories to scare me off.”

Sinclair pulled up to the gate, rolling down his window as Olivia leaned in to handle his check-in. She handed over his ID to the guard, exchanging a few words while Sinclair glanced around curiously. The base had its own rhythm, its own unspoken rules and dynamics, and he could already feel the subtle undertone of structure and camaraderie in the air. The phrase “overnight pass” drifted to his ears, filling him with a hopeful excitement. Even more time to spend with Olivia.

Once cleared, Olivia climbed back into the passenger seat, directing him toward her townhome. Sinclair drove with one hand on the wheel, the other reaching across to hold hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She seemed calm, but he could sense the underlying nerves in the tight line of her shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing her way.

She exhaled softly, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. Just… It’s different. You’ll see.”

And she wasn’t wrong. As they wove through the base, Sinclair caught glimpses of enlisted personnel nodding sharply in respect when officers passed. Groups of airmen in casual clothes lingered near the barracks, but even their casual was laced with formality. It was a culture all its own, and Sinclair filed it away as one more thing he admired about Olivia’s world.

When they arrived at her townhome, Olivia parked him in the driveway. Twisting around, he retrieved the tin of biscuits and a six-pack of beer he’d brought for the barbecue. From a young age, he learned never to attend a party empty handed. As they walked up the path, Sinclair couldn’t resist snagging a kiss from Olivia who was happy to oblige.

“Something smells amazing already,” he remarked, catching the faint aroma of grilled meats carried on the breeze.

“That’s Khan.” A faint smile tugging at her lips. “He takes barbecuing very seriously. It was a whole ordeal to get his smoker shipped here.”

They rounded the corner to find Khan stationed by the grill, spatula in hand, surrounded by plumes of fragrant smoke. A group of kids darted past, laughing as they chased a ball through the yard. Jenny waved from a table laden with sides, while Anderson shouted a greeting, opening the cooler for Sinclair to deposit his contribution.

About twenty people milled about, catching up on the latest gossip and sport scores from America. The kids abandoned their game, making a beeline for Olivia, asking if they could watch TV. Various parents answered on her behalf, saying no. Olivia arched an eyebrow as Sinclair showed them the tin, saying it might interest them.

“What’d you bring?” one of the older ones asked eagerly, eyeing the tin.

“Biscuits,” Sinclair said with a grin, crouching down to their level. “But you lot better share, or I’ll take them back.”

“Biscuits are for breakfast,” their ringleader informed Sinclair with the seriousness only a child could muster.

“I agree,” Sinclair chuckled, removing the tin. “But I believe you know these better as cookies.”

A chorus of “thank you”s rang out as he handed over the tin, watching the group scatter to divide their spoils. He straightened up, brushing his hands off on his jeans, and turned to Olivia with a wide smile.

“You just became their new best friend,” Olivia snorted, slipping a hand into his. “They’ll drag you into a water balloon fight before the day’s over.”

Jenny approached, pulling Sinclair into an immediate hug that left him blinking in surprise. “You must be Sinclair! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Olivia’s been holding out on us.”

“She has, hasn’t she?” Khan added, stepping away from the grill long enough to shake Sinclair’s hand with a firm grip. “Welcome. Grab a plate before the kids eat everything.”

Sinclair grinned, his excitement barely contained as he took in the scene: the sizzling grill, the boisterous laughter, the easy camaraderie. It was a far cry from the stuffy dinner parties he’d grown used to, and he loved every second of it.

“This,” he said to Olivia, leaning in as they approached the table to kiss her temple, “is my kind of party.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile as Anderson called out from across the yard, teasing, “You’re a brave man, Sinclair! Just wait until Jenny’s homemade coleslaw.”

The day had only just begun, but Sinclair was already sure of one thing: he didn’t just like Olivia’s world—he wanted to be a part of it.

Olivia’s townhome was modest, a plain and utilitarian space that spoke to the transient life she led. The walls were a neutral beige, and the furniture was serviceable rather than stylish. But here and there, flashes of Olivia’s personal touch broke through the austerity—a woven blanket draped over the back of the couch, knickknacks from her travels tucked into various shelves, and a framed map of the world dotted with pins marking places she’d been. A coffee mug with a chipped handle, sat forgotten on a nearby shelf.

Sinclair set down the last stack of dishes, running a hand through his hair as he sank onto the couch beside Olivia. “You know,” he said, leaning back with a sigh, “I think I’ll dream about Khan’s barbecue for weeks. That man’s an artist.”

Olivia snorted, her head tipping against the cushion as she stretched out her legs. “You earned his respect when you helped haul that smoker onto the trailer. He said you’re welcome anytime.”

“High praise.” Sinclair grinned, though his voice softened as the hum of the evening faded. With the bustle of the day behind them, an almost deafening quiet settled over the room.

Olivia shifted slightly, pulling her knees up onto the couch and turning toward him. The soft glow of a lamp lit the room, and the sharp edge of her usual confidence seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet vulnerability.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice low. “For being here today. I wasn’t sure how you’d enjoy it.”

“I liked it. I liked them.” Sinclair’s gaze lingered on her, warm and steady before turning mirthful again. “Do you think Khan was serious when he said he’d cook me a Texas brisket for my birthday?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, but she didn’t answer. Her eyes dropped to her hands, twisting together in her lap, before flicking back to his face. The silence grew heavier, the tension building between them like a thread pulled taut.

Sinclair leaned closer, just enough that their knees brushed. “What’s on your mind?” he asked softly, his voice laced with curiosity and a trace of hope.

She hesitated, then shifted forward, her weight settling into his lap. Her hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders as she met his gaze, her expression open but searching.

“I don’t want to overthink this,” she murmured, drawing in a shaky breath as her fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt. “But…I want you, Sinclair.”

Sinclair’s hands settled instinctively on her hips, his grip firm but reverent, as if she might vanish if he wasn’t careful. His heart raced, but his voice was steady when he answered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone threading between gentle concern and raw need.

Her lips curved into a small, certain smile. “I’ve never been more sure.”

The words grounded him, shivering with the certainty of a moment that had been building for months. He slid one hand up to cup her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek as he pulled her closer.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he whispered, just before their lips met.

The kiss deepened slowly, both of them savoring what would come. When they finally pulled back, Olivia took his hand, tugging him toward the stairs with a quiet confidence that matched the steady beat of his heart.

Olivia fumbled with the doorknob to her bedroom, her little huff shifting to a moan as Sinclair found that sweet spot on her clavicle. His cock jerked at the sound.

Sinclair's hands roamed over Olivia’s body, his fingers tracing the soft curves of her waist and hips, a gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap. She arched into his touch, her eyes locked on his as he kissed her deeply. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner and the beat of their hearts.

As they broke apart for air, Sinclair's hands slipped under Olivia's shirt, his palms brushing against her skin. She shivered, her nipples hardening beneath his touch. 

“So responsive,” he whispered huskily, pinching them gently. Olivia's eyes fluttered closed as she moaned. “I love it.”

Sinclair's mouth was back on hers, his tongue tangling with hers as he pushed her shirt up and over her head. Her breasts were perfect, round and firm, and he couldn't resist taking a nipple into his mouth. Olivia's hands threaded in his hair, pulling him closer as he sucked and licked her.

“Oh god,” Olivia hissed, her voice trembling with desire as she stumbled back against the bed. Sinclair steadied her then gently laid her down.

He moved down her body, his mouth tracing a path of delicate kisses over her stomach and hips. Olivia's hands were on his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin as he reached the edge of her trousers. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, revealing a pair of lacy black panties.

“You planned this.” Sinclair's eyes locked on the sight, his cock hardening in his own pants. “I have to taste you.”

“Touch me everywhere, Sinclair.” 

He nudged Olivia's legs apart, his mouth descending onto her core. She was wet, so wet, just for him, and Sinclair eagerly lapped up her juices, his tongue delving into her depths, responding to her cues.

“Sinclair, please…”

Olivia's hands were on his head, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth. She was moaning, her voice rising to a crescendo as Sinclair's tongue danced over her clit. He sucked and licked, his fingers slipping into her, and Olivia came, her body shuddering beneath him.

As she rode out the waves of her orgasm, Sinclair firmly believed he could spend the rest of his life happily drowning in her pleasure. He batted her hands away from his waistband, shaking his head at her unspoken offer. Tonight was about her, them. 

Sinclair stood up, his pants dropping to the floor, his cock hard and ready. He climbed into bed, dropping down for another desperate kiss. 

“Protection,” he muttered, stifling a groan as his cock bumped against her heat.

“Pill,” Olivia answered against his lips. “And recently tested. The paperwork’s somewhere.”

“I trust you.” His eyes locked on hers as he slid into her.

The sensation was incredible, Olivia's body wrapping around him like a glove. He thrust into her, his hips pounding out a rhythm as they moved together. This felt like home, where he was supposed to be. The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, their moans and gasps mingling like a passionate symphony.

As they reached the peak, Sinclair's hands were on Olivia's hips, holding her in place as he drove into her. She was coming again, her body shuddering beneath him, and Sinclair let go, his own orgasm crashing over him.

They lay there, tangled together, their bodies spent and sated. Sinclair's arms encircled Olivia, holding her close as they caught their breath. The room was quiet, the only sound the beat of their hearts, and for a moment, everything else just melted away.

“Is it too early to say I love you?”

Olivia snuggled into him, perfectly fitting like a missing puzzle piece. “No,” She murmured, rolling over to face him with shivering certainty. “Because I love you too.”