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In the middle of a messy mission, Gaby was happy that there was only one bed. She didn’t care that he was mad. Gaby curled on the bed and the mattress sunk when Illya lowered himself next to her. Even when she really wanted to curl right against his side, being in the same bed was better than nothing. It was cold, she shivered as she buried her chin under the covers; tired, exhausted through her core, yet too anxious to sleep.
Illya turned his head towards her in the dark. “You are making the whole bed shake,” he said quietly.
“Sorry,” Gaby muttered.
Illya frowned when he didn’t know what to do. He always had plan for everything and backup plans for those plans. However, for some unexplainable reason, his mind went blank. He wanted to say something that wouldn’t make him appear like he was just a fool in love with her. He was certain that was true, but he tried to cover it from her.
Gaby shivered again.
Illya cleared his throat. “Do you want to come here?” he asked stiffly.
She knew it would have been wiser to stay on her own side. Slowly, she moved closer to him. Her back settled against his chest.
Illya pulled her blanket away and wrapped his own over both of them. They moved slightly and adjusted their positions against each other. Finally, both of them settled snugly together. Illya’s arm wrapped over her under the covers. His face was so close to her neck that Gaby could feel his breath on her skin.
It was snug, cozy, and only slightly awkward. Slowly Illya’s body heat started to soak on Gaby and her shivering stopped. And when she felt warmer and better in Illya’s arms, she remembered her shame from earlier that evening.
“I’m sorry,” Gaby mumbled unwillingly, even though she knew she needed to say it. Illya was calm now, but he had been angry before. She was concerned that he was still upset at her. “For making us almost get caught,” she continued quietly. “It was an accident. I didn’t know there would be guards.” She huffed, annoyed, mostly to herself for messing up. But he hadn’t known there was guards either. It could have been just as easily Illya who opened the wrong door.
Illya hummed shortly. “We should never had gone there. We were not prepared. It was a stupid choice,” he said. “My choice.”
“I said we should,” Gaby reminded.
“Yes,” Illya granted. “Yes you did.” He was displeased to himself. That was the reason he had agreed; she had suggested it. He could have gotten both of them killed just by giving into her. Illya swallowed slowly. He could have gotten Gaby killed. “I messed up,” he confessed. “I should have known better.”
Gaby already opened her mouth to say something comforting, but everything she came up was too sappy. She needed to stay professional, or else she would say something that she couldn’t take back. Her fear was justified. Four days from now, after they had returned in London, after debriefing and several shots of vodka, she would blurt out that it was a shame that they didn’t use their spare time for kissing. She was pretty damn sure that they would be great at it. She wasn’t going to remember it when she would woke up the next morning. By noon she would.
But now she was sober and kept her mouth closed from saying anything absurd. Instead, she lied in Illya’s arms and enjoyed his thumb slowly stroking her stomach. She assumed that Illya didn’t even notice himself doing it.
Illya knew he had made a mistake. Gaby had suggested going in and he had agreed because he find it hard to say no to her. All the bullets fired towards them tonight could have been avoided if Illya had acted strictly like a professional. But he had been preoccupied by Gaby’s little head tilt she made when she looked at him, she was only thing he wanted to think about. Illya wanted her, ever since he met her, perhaps even before he knew her. She was all the good things in life that he feared he would never really have, so close, but unobtainable.
Four days from now, that would change when she would get drunk. Cowboy would chuckle at her statement and she would have one more drink before falling out of her chair. Illya would be the one helping her up and saying she’d had enough. Gaby would argue and then beg for only three minutes before passing out on the couch. Illya would sit back down onto his chair and let her drunken words seared into his memory like a brand.
But right now, he stroked her stomach slowly, hoped that she wouldn’t even notice.
Gaby closed her eyes as she relaxed. It was easy to submerge into her own fantasies in the dark room, under his gentle touch. She filled her head with dreams, when those were all she had. Eight days from now, she would have more. She would lie against Illya in her own bed, he would deliberately stroke her stomach, which would make Gaby practically purr like a cat. His nose would tickle her neck while he kisses her. Gaby’s lips would curl into a pleased smile. Her heart would race like she was running every time his fingertips brushed her naked skin.
They would spend hours in bed, going through every scar on each other’s skin, finding out the stories about each scar. They would use days of exploring and trying new things, tell hundreds of stories, and shower each other with compliments. They would dine in Soho’s tiny restaurants and walk along the dark riverbank. Their kisses would leave each other breathless.
There would be lazy mornings and busy days. Cups of black tea with honey. Illya would fry eggs to go on top of the thick slices of dark bread. Gaby would straddle Illya, as the pale sunlight penetrates through the shutters and paints her skin with golden stripes. She would try to make borscht and Illya would lie about the taste because it was barely edible. They would fight about who didn’t throw away the milk from the refrigerator before they left for a mission. Illya would paint Gaby’s toenails when her arm would be broken. The lamp from the bedside table would shatter on the floor when Illya would knock it over with Gaby’s dress that he had stripped off of her. Gaby would cry when she would be alone at home while he would be in the hospital. After he would come back she would stare at him like a crazy person while he would sleep. They would make up for missed birthdays with cake, presents, and silly birthday wishes. Celebrate anniversaries and holidays, make traditions. They would love each other so much, that neither of them could fathom such a thing. There would be fights, troubles, and worries. But, all those things wouldn’t matter. A lifetime of shared comfort and safety was ahead of them.
But there was four days before that would start and they were still alone even in the same bed. Illya kept stroking his thumb against her stomach. He pursed his mouth and frowned. “I need you to be safe,” he muttered, embarrassed but he needed to say those words. Illya needed Gaby to be with him even when they weren’t together. He needed her to be in his life talking to him and looking at him, if not for more.
In the dark, Gaby leaned back and turned to look at Illya over his shoulder. His warm breath shifter from her neck to her cheek. “I will,” Gaby promised quietly.
Illya nodded back slightly. It was wonderfully warm under the covers with him. His palm smoothed over her, merely ghosted over her pajamas like a whisper. Still, it was enough to make her fingers move restlessly and skin to prickle. She felt the warm throb inside. Gaby wanted Illya to slide his hand under her shirt, which made her cheeks flush.
Illya’s hand stopped. He imagined how he would set his hand on her jawbone, slide his forefinger slowly along, trace the shape of the jaw, and brush his thumb over her bottom lip. He wanted to kiss her, that his mouth watered.
It was a terrible shame that they didn’t use all their spare time for kissing, Gaby thought. Although it wasn’t something she could say out loud.
Illya cleared his throat quietly. “We should get some sleep,” he muttered reasonably. He couldn’t just confess his love to her.
Gaby turned her head away and set it back to her pillow. “Good night,” she whispered.
Illya answered with a hum and slightly pulled his hip away from her. It was easier to claim to himself that they were colleagues when his erection didn’t brush against her buttocks.
And they were still only colleagues. At least for four more days.