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Getting distracted by her partner was a rookie move, and Vespa Ilkay knew it. However, the part of her that was best at dragging her gaze kicking and screaming away from Buddy Aurinko heists had to admit that there were excuses to be made when Buddy was twirling one of Vespa’s knives in hand.
At the very least, there was no pressure that afternoon. It was more of a casual suggestion of heist preparation than any kind of serious practice. Between that and the way Buddy’s grin glowed back at her twice, once from the reflection in the blade and once from between wine red lips, Vespa was pretty sure she wouldn’t ever be able to shoot Buddy’s blaster straight either.
“You ought to keep your eyes on the target, darling,” Buddy chuckled, the sweet and heady sound doing absolutely nothing to help Vespa’s sappily short attention span. “Usually, I find it much easier to shoot my opponents when I’m looking at them.”
“I know, I know,” Vespa huffed, narrowing her eyes at the target as if it had personally wronged her. “How’s my grip?”
“Close to perfect,” Buddy returned, stepping an inch or two closer to Vespa.
Vespa had no idea how much an inch or two could do to completely rend her focus in half. However, the lack of distance between herself and her wife was nothing in comparison to the way Buddy’s hands came to rest upon her arms and shoulders, gently guiding her as if running casual fingertips through a rose-scented bath.
“Straighten your knees a bit, darling,” Buddy murmured, a little too soft and a little too sweet to not, at least partially, be doing her damndest to press Vespa’s buttons.
“How are the arms?”
“A sight for sore eyes,” Buddy chuckled.
Vespa made note of the compliment, then rolled her eyes.
“The stance,” she snorted.
“Flawless,” Buddy returned with the kind of winning smile that made stars flash in the corners of Vespa’s eyes, though she had to admit, that might have had something to do with the way she so often forgot to breathe while looking at her wife.
There was no part of Vespa that regretted getting married. The promise of a forever with this impossible woman at her side was the kind of world-shifting event that kept her checking to see if her ring was still on her finger every day and counting her blessings every time she fell asleep in Buddy Aurinko’s arms, fingertips in her hair and sweet nothings dying on her lips. She’d never had a dream so nice she had to pinch herself, and yet, somehow, she’d been lucky enough to live through one as her reality.
However, she had no idea how she was going to manage to function for the rest of her life if she was going to spend it with this walking miracle of a woman.
Vespa was competent. It was something she prided herself on. On bad days, the guilt would be lighter if she could remind herself that every other day of the year was spent taking care of herself and saving up for whatever favors she might eventually need.
With her eyes and the stupid, pounding organ between her ribs betraying her, it was becoming harder and harder to believe it.
Vespa shook her head. She swallowed. She forced her steely gaze back to the target, remembering just how Buddy said to hold and shoot and aim and fire.
Vespa took a breath and squeezed the trigger.
“Hey,” she started as the empty ration box fell over, “it could’ve been worse.”
“That was wonderful, darling,” Buddy all but beamed. “You’re a born natural.”
For as much resolve as it took for Vespa to briefly tear her eyes off of Buddy, the sight of Buddy’s grin and the feeling of a familiar hand on her shoulder were worth the moment of fortitude.
With the memory of Steel trying to avoid telling her why the hell he’d come to the infirmary with a stab wound in his hand and Ransom alternating between tending to him like he’d need an amputation and trying his best not to laugh his ass off, Vespa decided that the success of the shot was probably worth it just for the bragging rights as well.
However, bragging rights were a little less important to her than the easy flip of Buddy’s hand when she twirled the blaster away into her thigh holster, an article of clothing Vespa adored for no reason other than style, of course.
“I think that means it's your turn now,” Vespa prompted.
“I think I’ve done plenty of shooting—“
“Not shooting,” Vespa shook her head, taking a knife from the hidden holster she’d sewn into the pocket of her jumpsuit and pressing it into Buddy’s free hand. “Think you can hit that target with a throw?”
“Well,” Buddy grinned, bright and sweet and completely aware of what she was doing. “I think that might just require you guiding my hands.”
“It’s not that different, but—” Vespa broke off to laugh, “whatever you say, Bud. Here, you’re gonna start with the knife in your hand like this.”
If the stakes were so low and Buddy had no qualms with tormenting her with casual touches, Vespa didn’t see any reason not to take her sweet time when positioning the knife in Buddy’s hand, curling each and every one of her fingers around the handle with the same easy, gentle touches with which she straightened out Buddy’s wrist.
“Vespa, you really don’t need to go this slow with me. I’m not that much of an amateur, after all,” Buddy chuckled.
“Take me to dinner first, Bud,” Vespa snorted. “Let me walk you through the arms before you start jumping to anything. You’ve still gotta land a knife in that dummy’s guts.”
“If you insist, darling,” Buddy grinned, faltering slightly as Vespa nudged her arms into position.
Vespa didn’t necessarily need to be standing as close as she was, though from the sight of Buddy’s parted lips and blown pupil, she doubted her student minded the up close and personal tutorial very much.
“That looks pretty good,” Vespa nodded, finally pulling away once Buddy perfected her stance. Even though she knew damn well she needed to back away to avoid the same fate as Steel’s hand, she let her fingertips linger for just a moment too long. She was allowed to flirt with her damn wife if she wanted to. “I think you can go ahead and throw now.”
Buddy’s shot definitely wasn’t the cleanest in the world, but it hit the target and stuck, which was a hell of a lot more than Vespa could say for her first attempt at throwing a knife.
“That looks great, Bud,” Vespa grinned, giving Buddy a pat on the shoulder before jumping over the divider between the standing area and targets to retrieve the knife and slide it back into her makeshift holster.
Buddy looked slightly less pleased.
“Well, I think I certainly could have done better under different circumstances,” Buddy huffed.
“You hit the target,” Vespa shrugged. “That’s nothing to sniff at, especially for your first shot. Besides, I think you were a little distracted.”
“I should have been able—”
“You’re allowed to be in love with your wife, Bud,” Vespa snorted, breaking Buddy off before she could loose another self deprecating word into the air. “I’m not gonna stop you from being a sap for me when there’s nothing on the line. On a heist, maybe, or maybe if there’s someone else around, but if it’s just you and me, I don’t care.”
Buddy’s smile returned, and for just a moment, the rest of the world seemed to slide into place. If there were a single problem in the universe, it put itself on hold just out of respect for the way that expression crossed her face.
“Well then,” Buddy chuckled, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t continue helping you learn how to shoot.”
“I dunno how much learning I’m gonna do.”
“Aren’t I allowed to flirt with my wife?”
Vespa shook her head and laughed.
“Hell, I’m not gonna stop you.”