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“Dash, dot dot, dash” Kirsten tapped out on Amy’s arm, looking up at her expectantly. 

“Is an N?” She answered, hoping that she’d finally get it right, optimistic that would mean the end of today’s lesson. Kirsten rolled her eyes, sinking further back into the sofa. 

“No,” she smirked. 

“No?” 

“No…” she erupted into a fit of giggles, her flirtatious laugh as intoxicating as ever. “An N is dash-dot!” She corrected, mockingly stern. Amy sighed, muttering the code under her breath as though she were considering what it actually meant, although truth behold her mind was somewhere else entirely. Kirsten was explaining something about the song that was playing, it being her dad’s favourite, but for as much as she tried to pay attention, the older woman couldn’t help getting distracted by the way her partner’s hair framed her face in a fiery mane, or the way small crinkles formed in the corners of her eyes when she smiled, or the way the alcohol had made her cheeks slightly flushed… 

 

She was a soul tormented, half of her wanting to embrace the feelings, embrace the colour that Kirsten brought into her otherwise black and white life, but the other half was still too consumed with guilt and grief to let anything else in. How was it fair for her to be here, and to experience these feelings towards someone else, after what had happened? When she tuned back in to the younger woman’s soft Scottish drawl, she was talking about the sinking of the Iolaire. Her mind began to wander, visions of water rising, filling the room… She shook her head and took a long swig of her whisky, letting the burning sensation bring her back into the moment. She’d spent too long living in the past. Even if tomorrow she regretted it, tonight she wanted to embrace the present. To embrace the sensations Kirsten stirred within her, a warmth she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in longer than she cared to remember. 

 

She flinched slightly as she felt a touch brush her cheek, before realising her partner had shifted so she was facing her, her face cupped in Kirsten’s hands. 

“Are you alright?” She murmured, concern evident in her tone. Amy nodded. 

“Better than I have been in a long time,” she whispered. She felt drunk, despite only having a couple of drinks, her head full of fog and longing. Kirsten rested her head against her shoulder, wrapping her in a tight embrace. This wasn’t the first time she’d ended up this close to her colleague, even she had given up on denying the tension between them at this point. Usually the guilt ridden part of her would win over, and she would make the most of the close contact but excuse herself before it had the chance to turn into anything more, but this night felt different. That was when she realised her colleague was tapping out more morse code, this time onto the her shoulder. 

“If I can’t even work out the letters how the fuck am I supposed to decode that?” She sighed, too content to even pretend to be annoyed. Kirsten smiled softly, chuckling to herself at her partner’s incompetence. 

“How you’ve made it to the rank you have without learning morse is beyond me…” she perused, pulling away from the embrace so she could see Amy’s puzzled face. 

“So,” she exhaled with a flirtatious smile, “Are you going to tell me what it means?” 

 

They had been building to this moment for months, and Kirsten had been patiently waiting until Amy gave her the green light, not wanting to push her before she was ready, despite them both being painfully aware of the chemistry they shared. This, she realised, was probably the closest she was going to get to a green light. 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Amy looked confused, then startled, then confused again, so she added “That’s what the morse meant.” 

 

A moment of silence between them. 

“Oh…” 

Kirsten felt the blush rising to her cheeks and once again cursed her pale complexion. She evaluated what her next move should be, but before she could reach a conclusion her thought process was derailed by her partner’s lips colliding with her own. The kiss was passionate, deep, desperate, everything they’d both fantasised about since they first met all those months ago. Amy’s hands were in her hair, and all she could think was that fucking hell, this was so worth the wait. This was so much more than just a kiss, this was their souls becoming intertwined, Amy finally allowing herself to feel something other than grief and guilt, finally allowing someone to help her, and now she’d opened that door she feared it was one she’d never be able to close. 

 

“Does that answer your question?” She exhaled breathlessly, barely waiting for her partner’s shocked nod before connecting their lips once more. Kirsten was a drug, and now she’d taken a hit she needed more. The younger woman had tactically wrapped her arms around her, so in a matter of moments she had her soft skin and auburn hair underneath her, having been pulled on top of her as the redhead laid into the sofa. She deepened the kiss, her leg between Kirsten’s thighs, her kisses moving from her lips to the skin behind her ears, to her neck, to her collarbone. 

 

The woman beneath her groaned approvingly, pushing her body closer to Amy’s own, her hands in her hair guiding their lips back together. She wanted to tell herself that in this moment she felt an ounce of guilt, that she was thinking about pulling away and ending things at that point, but she’d have been lying. All she was actually thinking about was the heat of Kirsten’s core on her thigh, what it would feel like without the layers of fabric between them. How it would feel to have Kirsten’s head between her thighs. Her arousal was bordering on physically painful. 

“Do you want to-” she couldn’t finish the question before her partner interrupted with a breathy “Please…” 

 

They had never planned on sharing a night together, but when they awoke the next morning, Amy’s hair splayed across the pillow, their legs entwined in a tangle of the previous night’s lust. 

“Well at least you’ll always remember the time I taught you morse…” Kirsten giggled. Amy let out a content sigh of agreement. 

“If we keep up like this we’ll have quite the shorthand…”