Work Text:
Eve pulled out her keyring, fiddling with it until her thumb found the correct, cool metal key. She was ready to be home. She wanted something. Food? Sleep? She couldn’t tell. She just wanted something and she knew that she could find it there.
She reached out to the door and her feet tangled together, accidentally tripping herself turning the door knob as she fell. It was unlocked.
She stumbled into an upright position, narrowing her eyes at the door. Hadn’t she locked it?
She yawned before shaking her head, it had been a long day, maybe she had forgotten to lock it that morning but as she opened the door something so familiar, so cloying that it all clicked into place.
“You know,” She said through another yawn, dropping her work bag to the floor, her eyes barely registering Villanelle’s form on her bed, “It’s impolite to invite yourself over.”
She headed towards the kitchen, in a hopeless attempt to satiate her want but as she started to open the fridge she realized that Villanelle hadn’t made a witty remark back. “Villanelle?”
Her hand unfurled from the fridge’s handle and she crossed back over to where her bed was, swiftly, albeit cautiously.
Villanelle was laying across it, collapsed in on herself, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other just clenched tight, as tears traced down her cheeks.
“Villanelle?” Her eyebrows drew together, kneeling down before her. “Hey,” She whispered, running a hand carefully through the hair that had cascaded in front of her face. Villanelle’s hand dragged from its resting place in the sheet to the top of Eve’s hand, covering it, holding it there. She leaned into the touch.
Eve still wasn’t sure what she had wanted but she forgot that wanted anything at all at the heat of this soft gesture. “Hey.” She studied the broken face in front of her, hoping to find some answer to the questions her actions aroused. She opened her mouth wishing that she could craft some perfect mixture of words to let Villanelle know she was safe here but she knew the woman laying in front of her. She knew her dogmatic nature. She closed her mouth and let out a sigh from her nose. “You don’t have to talk about it, just,” A breath fell from her lips that she didn’t know she was holding onto, “Let me help. Villanelle, tell me how to help.”
This was the only thing that brought Villanelle’s gaze to meet Eve’s eyes. Her face seemed to lighten, but only for a second as if she were preparing herself for yet another let down. “Hold me?”
Eve paused a second, letting the request wash over her in its full glory before standing up. She pulled her clothes off until she was left in a tank top and underwear, realizing just how deep this searing pain was when Villanelle didn’t use this as an opportunity to study the newly revealed skin.
“Can you scoot over?” Eve’s voice was barely a caress.
Villanelle didn’t say anything but shuffled on the bed until her back was against the wall. Eve sighed and crawled into the bed beside her. She placed a cautious hand on Villanelle’s waist and Villanelle didn’t hesitate, her arms shot forward and wrapped around Eve’s torso, pulling herself into Eve’s side, nestling into her, bathing in the warmth, the comfort, from this intimacy with Eve.
Eve pulled an arm around Villanelle’s waist, while her other hand carefully carded through her hair. She didn’t know how to comfort her past that, though. She didn’t know why she needed comfort in the first place. So, she did want she would’ve wanted if the roles were swapped, if she laid broken in Villanelle’s arms. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
They stayed like that for hours. Their souls melded together, jagged, broken pieces fitting perfectly against craving, wanting edges, forming some melancholy whole, divine with the previously denied comfort. The somber implications, memories of moments that led to this night laid atop them, coated them, drowned them like honey.
Villanelle relaxed her grip on Eve until she could lean back enough to look in Eve’s eyes.
Her gaze fell, though, when she opened her mouth, “I don’t,” Her voice was hoarse, confused, eyes glassy with unfallen tears, “Know what would have hurt more. If everything had been proven a lie, that it was an accident and I missed out on...” She sighed and clenched her eyes shut, “Or this.”
“What?” Eve was cautious with her questioning, her voice was soft and gentle.
“My mother.”
Those two words told the rest of the story. At least, told Eve what type of story it was. That it would hurt, would gut her until she was bleeding as heavily as Villanelle had bled through tears. There was no way that story ended in anything less than devastation.
“Why didn’t she want me, Eve?” Villanelle’s voice broke and tears fell again. Those six words echoed in her head, amplifying their effect until Eve couldn’t help but mirror her, tears racing down her cheeks. She pulled Villanelle tight against her chest.
“I,” Her voice was unsteady, anguish seeping through the cracks, “Don’t know.” She ran a hand through Villanelle’s hair, “I don’t know but I want you. Villanelle, I need you and who gives a damn what she thinks about you? Fuck her. You have me.” Villanelle relaxed in her arms and she let the remaining emotion dissipate.
“What she
thought
of me.” Villanelle’s voice tickled along Eve’s neck, “I killed her.”
“Sounds like she deserved it.”
Villanelle let out a little chuckle. Pulling herself closer to Eve. “Thank you.”
Eve placed a kiss to her forehead, “I will always be here for you.”
Villanelle fell asleep in her arms, something mended inside of her. And Eve was softly lulled to sleep by the cocktail of Villanelle’s breathing and heartbeat, her craving satiated.