Disclaimer: I don't own The 100. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: a tumblr anon asked for Kabby: "ficlet!prompt: marcus kane using sex/giving good head as a way to get her to unwind and go to sleep after stressful days."

Warnings: sexual content, adult language, nudity, oral sex, established relationship, exhaustion, post season three finale.


She wasn't usually the first one to admit that she had a habit of pushing herself too hard.

But right now?

Staring up at the ceiling with her body practically humming with exhaustion?

She was starting to think that maybe she'd outdone herself this time.

The only problem - because of course there was going to be a problem - was that she couldn't sleep. She was more than aware of the irony. Here she was, so tired she could cry, counting the metal rivets on her ceiling like ancient earth children used to count sheep in their dreams.

Though why it was sheep of all things, she had no idea.

She sighed, finally admitting defeat as she levered herself upright and kicked herself out of the tangle of sheets. She was halfway to the door, still not quite awake to remember things like socks and possibly pants, when her radio crackled.

"Where do you think you're going?" Marcus asked, more bemused than anything as the background beep of his data pad syncing provided the stage and atmosphere for the rest.

"Are you spying on me?" she demanded sleepily. Smile lopsided and teasing as her bare feet curled across the metal floor. "Surely that behavior is beneath you, Chancellor Kane?"

'Not to mention illegal,' a little voice murmured salaciously. Slurred and slightly delirious as she thought of half a dozen ways she could make that title sound a whole lot less official.

"It's for your own good," he replied, far too easily. Smugly awake in a way she immediately envied as she looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner of the room - eyebrow raised. "Abby, you haven't slept in over two days. Get some rest."

"I'm too keyed up to sleep," she admitted, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand as she seized on the tail-end of the conversation. "If I'm going to be up, I might as well get some inventory done."

"Go to sleep," he told her again, soft and gently chastising through the radio. Papers shuffling like busy work as she pictured him holed up at his desk. Stretching like he wanted to be anywhere else but couldn't justify packing it in for the night just yet.

"Make me," she shot back lazily. Not really meaning anything by it until she
heard his inhale - sharp and almost strained.

Because, oh-

She knew what that sound meant.

"I'll be there in ten," he told her, catching the distinct tint of want enter his tone as the creak of a chair issued across the line. "Be in bed by the time I get there."

"Or what?" she rasped, interested and tiredly excited now as her hand drifted down. Stroking herself through the worn cotton of her underwear. Knowing he was watching. Getting the reaction she was hoping for when he let go of a breath between his teeth. Saying nothing for a long moment before-

"Goddamn it, Abby."

She grinned, pleased with herself when the connection cut off to static.

She'd be surprised if he made her wait more than five.

"Do you remember the old Council Table?" she murmured later. Smiling smugly up at the ceiling as he raised his head from the v of her legs and looked up at her. Eye brow cocked in that way he had before clearly giving up, flomping tiredly back against her sex with a noncommittal sound. Jaw clicking pointedly against her thighs as she wriggled across the sheets, completely and utterly relaxed. His skin was moist and warm against hers. The fine stubble of his lower lip teasing the tired slick of her. Echoing the sated throb in her belly as her toes curled contentedly.

"I was just thinking…all that time we spent arguing with each other. Staring each other down on either side of it. Just think if we'd-"

His groan was more felt than heard. Just like her laugh when he rolled them. Covering her over and settling himself gently in the bow of her back. Sinking down until his head was caught in the curve of her shoulder. Pressing a soft kiss into the crook as their breathing gradually slowed and she learned to like being crushed into the mattress. Part of her secretly wondering if he took comfort in the fact that perhaps from now on, neither of them would be able to go far without the other knowing.

And honestly?

That worked fine for her.

Hell, she was finally tired enough to try falling asle-

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.


"Nepenthe" is a rare word meaning: "something that can make you forget grief and suffering."