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The first thing Eve hears when she opens her eyes is a sound of wind whistling angrily. The weather in Paris has been less than pleasant the last couple of days, making her feel unwelcome in the city.
The first thing she sees is that all the drawers in the shared closet are wide open with the pile of different colored pants and shirts laying on the ground, like they've just attempted suicide. Eve sighs silently. She is no neat freak but two messy people in one apartment is just not right. (as well as two murderers or even two women as some would say. But she’s made her peace with the wrongness of them a long time ago, so it’s ok.)
The first thing she smells was cinnamon. Eve smiles a little - she whined about wanting french toast for the last couple of days, but neither of them wanted to leave the house in this weather to go grocery shopping.
The first thing she feels is a soft kiss pressed above her left shoulder blade: “Morning”.
Eve noticed Villanelle having a habit of kissing her scar a couple months ago. She always did it swiftly and discreetly, like she’s telling the thin line a secret. Eve wondered if the gesture was unconscious. She wondered if Villanelle had something to say to the healed shoulder. If so, what would she say? Sorry? Thank you?
Eve often noticed Villanelle taking pride in marking her. She bit and sucked and licked, painting bluish galaxies on Eve’s body, smirking later when Eve bitched about being a grown woman with hickeys.
But her attitude towards the scar was different. Quiter.
“I made french toast,” I love you.
Eve moans loudly.
“This is delicious,” she says, taking another bite.
Villanelle laughs quietly, hugging her tea mug with both hands. She looks out the window, squinting at the weak sun ray that is tickling her face. Her hair is down and she’s wearing nothing but a silk robe that slid off her shoulder slightly. She’s relaxed and homey and so fucking beautiful, that Eve can’t help but lean across the table kissing her soundly, her fingers leaving cinnamon stains on Villanelle’s cheek when she puts her hand there, pulling her closer.
Villanelle breathes out sharply into her mouth, caught by surprise. She leans in her chair and pulls Eve by the waist, sitting her on her lap. She kisses Eve deeply, smiling into it when she tastes the sweet spices on her lips: “Delicious indeed.”
***
“Fuck,” Eve moans, arching her back, “Harder please”
She buries her face in the pillow as Villanelle grabs her by the hips, not hurrying to fulfill Eve’s request. Her moves are slow and steady, teasing even. The sounds of Eve’s moans are muffled now and all she hears is the sounds of skin meeting skin and Villanelle’s breathing. Villanelle leans down, caressing Eve’s body with just the tips of her fingers, her tits meeting Eve’s back.
“You asked nicely,” she whispers matter-of-factly, starting to deepen her moves. Villanelle’s hands reach for Eve’s hands, bringing them above Eve’s head, intertwining their fingers. “Let me hear you, baby,” she says, making Eve turn her head to the left to face her as much as she can in this position.
Every inch of Villanelle’s body is covering Eve’s, making Eve feel her every move on her skin as she moves roughly and rhythmically. The toy slides in and out of Eve making her breath catch with every hit. She whimpers. She’s fucking loud and she knows it but she doesn’t care about anything else but the feeling of Villanelle. She’s everywhere. Eve feels consumed by her. She feels safe.
Villanelle kisses the side of her face so gently and slams into her so roughly that Eve wonders how one person can be capable of all of it at once. She squeezes her fingers around Villanelle’s, clenching around the toy. She feels her breathing softly just above her ear. Eve moans her name brokenly and Villanelle knows she’s close. She moves faster. She kisses the line on Eve’s left shoulder blade once. Twice. Three times.
Eve has never come so hard.
***
“Do you really not understand how dangerous it is?” Eve asks
“No, Eve, I don’t, please enlighten me,” Villanelle challenges, causing Eve to feel the newfound anger burning in her throat.
They’ve been going at it for about half an hour. Their stay in Paris was supposed to only last a couple of weeks as a gift to Villanelle, who is attached to the city, but it’s been months at this point. Paris is too big, too flashy, impossible to get lost in. It is not the city to settle down in when you’re on a fucking run. Eve has been thinking about it for a while, quietly researching and calculating where they should go next. But when Villanelle came home with a cut above her brow, telling Eve about how she just murdered some guy who’s been following her from the gym (with a brick, in an alleway, he had very ugly-looking brains, Eve!) Eve knew they had to go, now.
“We can’t stay here and you know it. I know it upsets you but we have to go,” Eve tries to stay calm, she really does, “It’s getting out of hand, you’re killing again for god’s sake!”
Villanelle knew she would make a big deal about it.
“So you don’t get off that part of me anymore? Or is the brick not an exciting enough weapon of choice for you?” Villanelle laughs bitterly.
“I don’t give a fuck whether you kill or not, I just don’t want you to get killed!” Eve spits the sentence out like it’s burning her mouth.
“We can’t be on the run forever, I don’t want to live like that!”
“And I don’t want to be scared shitless everytime someone rings the doorbell, V,” Eve’s voice gets quieter.
“You know I will always protect you,” Villanelle begs.
“How do I know that, Villanelle?! How? Stop playing a knight in shining armor and use your head!” Eve finally snaps.
Villanelle gets quiet. She starts moving towards Eve, stopping a few inches away from her, like the shortened distance would make Eve hear her better. She stands close enough for Eve’s breath to catch, but not enough to tower over her.
“Do not talk to me that way, Eve,” she breathes out.
“I-”
“You know what,” Villanelle interrupts loudly, “Fuck it,” she walks away towards their bedroom. Eve feels cold, “You can book a plane right fucking now,” Villanelle slams the door.
Eve leans on the kitchen counter burying her face in her palms. Fuck.
It’s been 20 minute since Villanelle stormed out. Eve hears the shower running, knowing it’s ice cold. She always took “cooling off” too literally. Eve is making dinner, her movements are quick and hectic, like she’s a witch making a potion to kill her enemies. The water in the pot is boiling, making the lid shake annoyingly and she feels like her brain is the one making all that noise. Eve is not a stranger to anger, it may be the only emotion she mastered, the only one she befriended. But right now the anger is seasoned with sadness and regret.
Eve is peeling potatoes, cutting off the skin like she wants to cut off all the bullshit left in their relationship. The tears she’s been stubbornly holding back blur her vision, making her dizzy with unsaid words and unexpressed feelings. The water has turned off and Eve imagines Villanelle behind that door, hugged by the furry gray sweater she stole from Eve, trying to warm up. All Eve wants is to open that door and crawl inside of her. Just to see what it’s like in there, just to get her better.
Eve is in her head, not paying enough attention to the knife when it slips, cutting the skin between her pointer finger and her thumb.
“Shit!” she cries out, dropping the knife on the counter loudly. The cut is deep and bloody, the pain is sharp. Eve knows she has to do something to stop the bleeding but she just slides down the fridge, sitting down on the floor. She looks down at her hand dumbly, feeling angry tears sneaking out of the corners of her eyes. She feels stupid.
Eve hears the door slowly opening up and takes a deep breath, trying to stop the tears.
“What happened?” Villanelle quickly walks up to her. She’s wearing the sweater. Eve knew she would.
Eve lifts up her hand a bit, answering her silently. She feels pathetic. Villanelle furrows her brows, gently wrapping her fingers around Eve’s wrists to examine the wound.
“It’s not a big deal, I’m just dramatic,” Eve tries to joke but her shaky breathing gives her out.
Villanelle moves around the kitchen, looking for the first aid kit. She finds it quickly, silently sitting on the floor opposite of Eve. Their knees are touching.
“You need to be more careful,” Villanelle says almost in a whisper. Her accent always sounds thicker when she’s concerned.
She takes Eve’s hand, bringing it to her mouth. She licks Eve’s wound gently, wiping the blood with her tongue. Eve holds her breath, like she’s afraid to scare her off. She knows Villanelle isn’t trying to be erotic, but she still feels slight pressure building between her legs. Villanelle moves Eve’s hand from her mouth, putting a white bandaid on it. She places a kiss on top of it. And one more on her pulse point. She’s so gentle, Eve feels like crying again. The cut doesn’t seem as deep and painful as it did before. Villanelle doesn’t let go of her hand yet, looking at Eve.
“You okay?” she wipes the wetness of Eve’s cheek with her free hand.
“I’m sorry,” Eve whispers.
“Eve..”
“I didn’t mean what I said,” she says louder, “I was just scared and upset seeing you hurt again,” Eve gently traces the bruise on Villanelle’s forehead, “I know you don’t want to move again and I don’t, too, but…”
“I just love our life, Eve… I don’t want it to change,” Villanelle looks down, her voice is quiet but steady.
“I love our life too, baby, but it’s good because it’s ours. Not because of where we are,” Eve speaks confidently, squeezing Villanelle’s hand, “We’ll build a better one, okay?”
Villanelle lunges forward, raising on her knees to pull Eve into a hug.
“Okay,” she breathes out against Eve’s neck, feeling her tightening the embrace. It’s warm and secure. Eve gently turns Villanelle’s head to face her, gazing into her eyes with a silent promise. Villanelle smiles, lowering her head to kiss Eve’s left shoulder blade. That’s a promise, too.
***
The first thing Villanelle hears when she wakes up is Eve dropping something in the kitchen followed by a quiet “shit”. She smiles to herself.
The first thing she sees is a cup of tea on her nightstand. It’s still steaming, Eve must’ve known she’d wake up soon.
The first thing she smells is a familiar sweet scent of Eve’s peach body mist, mixed with coffee she must've just had.
The first thing she feels is soft curls tickling her face and neck when Eve bends down to kiss her. It was supposed to be a quick good morning kiss, but Villanelle wraps her hands around Eve’s waist causing her to fall on top of her.
“We have to go soon,” Eve protests, feeling Villanelle prepping kisses on her neck.
“Then we better be quick,” Villanelle grins mischievously, rolling them around so she’s on top of Eve.
Eve kisses her sweetly - it’ll wait.
30 minutes and two orgasms later Villanelle stands in front of the mirror, applying sunscreen to her face. They live in Girona now, a town in the far north of Spain. It’s pretty small, but not to the point of boring. There is a beach thirty minutes from their house, which they planned to explore a while ago. The weather is nice today, with sun fighting it’s way through their thick curtains.
“I’m packed,” Eve announces, meeting Villanelle’s eyes in the mirror. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a flowy yellow sundress and sunglasses. She looks so youthful and carefree, it makes Villanelle’s heart clench. She turns around to face Eve, removing her sunglasses to place them on her head. Eve looks at her curiously, smiling. Villanelle puts her hair behind her ear to slowly start spreading sunscreen on her nose, cheeks and forehead. Eve doesn’t protest, grateful for the gesture - she’d forget to do it herself. She smiles shyly, causing Villanelle to smile back and kiss the corner of her mouth. She walks around Eve, standing behind her, while Eve is watching her in the mirror.
Villanelle moves her curls to the right, seeing a thin light line. Villanelle gently traces it with her finger, applying the access sunscreen. It’s important to keep it out of the sun, - Villanelle always says to Eve, like she’s not the reason it’s there in the first place. Eve hums in agreement, like she forgot it was there at all.
Villanelle places a quick feathery kiss on top of it:
“I’m sorry you’re there.
Thank you for healing.
You’re beautiful.
I’ll take care of you.
I love you.”