Chapter Text
When a watch clashes with an outfit choice, Villanelle usually relies on her heartbeat to keep time. Depending on how far or fast she’s had to run, it’s usually one or two beats per second. This has never failed her for timing highly planned kills (one beat, two beats, a slice to the thigh, three beats, and she’s gone) or following targets without a trace (generally pacing herself 2.5x slower than the target by approximating their speed and adjusting her own). But in this moment, she knows it is beating too quickly and irregularly to be a reliable source. She wants to give herself at least 10 seconds before turning to reveal Eve getting smaller and smaller as she walks away forever. When she instructed Eve to turn around and walk away, she meant it. She knows she’s never brought goodness to anyone’s life, and she’s never wanted someone to have a good life more than Eve. She knows this is for the best, but she still needs time before feeding the growing pit in her stomach.
After what feels like 10 years but is definitely less than 10 seconds, Villanelle turns, bracing herself for her new reality without Eve. No more chasing, no more surprise gifts or stolen dances, left only with charged memories she knows she will turn over and over until they feel as worn as an old photograph. She had lived her whole life without Eve, and after Rome, she thought her bullet had carved a future without Eve. She had said goodbye to every meaningful person in her life, and she could do it again. She told herself that knowing Eve was better off would make it easier, but she struggled to trust even herself. Villanelle turns only her head at first, unsure if she can handle more than a glance. As soon as she blinks to refocus her blurring vision, the growing pit in her stomach is replaced with fluttering confusion. Eve is still there. Not more than 5 paces from where she left her. Too far to touch but close enough to see Eve’s beaming smile and relieved eyes. Villanelle shakes her head to herself – both in disbelief and playful admonishment for Eve’s inability to listen to what’s good for her.
She’s pulled from her thoughts by a (very rude) ambulance siren ruining her moment. Still fearful she’s misunderstood why Eve turned around, she cocks her head to the side and fixes her face with an inquisitive smirk. She wants Eve to decide for herself what she wants, not because she feels trapped or scared. All of her self-control is being used to hold her feet solidly in place so she can’t help but to bark out – much less smooth than it sounded in her head “Enjoying the view?” But she refuses to make the first motion to close the gap between them. She needs Eve to decide for herself if she wants to take the next step, both figuratively and literally.
Eve throws her head back with a cackling laugh and starts closing the gap between them. The void Villanelle was prepared to fill with expensive champagne is suddenly flooded with relief as she hears Eve yell out “God you’re insufferable”. An insult from most others, Villanelle knows Eve better than that and can see the way she is biting her cheek to hide her amused smirk. Villanelle’s whole body vibrates as Eve nervously runs her fingers through her hair only inches from the blonde. Villanelle’s attention can no longer focus on the smirk Eve believes she’s hiding. She’s flooded with the desire for her fingers to be the ones running through Eve’s hair. Her thoughts are interrupted by a soft palm resting on her cheek. Villanelle leans her face against Eve’s affection, the first lapse in her restraint.
Eve casually asks, “now what?” as if they just finished dinner and she’s unsure if they should go for drinks or go home. Villanelle has no answer prepared, she did not anticipate the evening going here. The noise from the cars and random pedestrian conversations makes for a good enough excuse for Villanelle to lean in, brushing Eve’s hair back so she can get near enough to whisper. She lingers there for a moment, soaking in Eve’s earthy and slightly fruity smell. She’s initially disappointed and confused when Eve drops her hand from Villanelle’s cheek, but is immediately recharged when Eve’s hand trails down her stomach and lands on Villanelle’s hip, pulling her body even closer. “You tell me, baby. What is it that you want, Eve?” Villanelle whispers, a bit more unsure and raspier than she intended.
Villanelle leans back slightly but stays close enough to not miss what she hopes will be Eve finally voicing her desires. She tries to still her mind so she can remember every word of what she assumes will be Eve’s long-winded monologue confessing her obsession, wants, needs, dreams, and concerns. But her mind won’t quiet this close to Eve and she’s thinking of when Eve tires of talking, and how to suggest another use for her lips. But what she finds at the end of her question isn’t Eve’s voice, but instead her lips ever so softly pressing into the taller woman’s. Villanelle closes her eyes as a reflex, but immediately opens them to double check she isn’t imagining this as she has many times before. This kiss is different than what Eve gave her on the bus. It’s timid and barely there, but full of yearning. It’s both a question and an answer. Eve’s free hand grabs onto the other side of Villanelle’s hip, pulling her body closer while keeping her lips barely touching Villanelle’s. This is all Villanelle needs to understand what Eve wants and needs from her. They’ve always been much better at communicating without words, Villanelle thinks as she pulls Eve’s face up to hers and deepens the kiss. This elicits a moan that escapes Eve’s mouth and Villanelle mentally logs it as her new favorite sound.
Tongues brush over lips, and they slowly explore new territory while grasping for more of each other in every breath. Villanelle feels Eve’s arms loop around her neck, reaching for more leverage on her tip toes until she clumsily stumbles into Villanelle, breaking their kiss. Villanelle is so caught up in devouring everything Eve will give her that at first, she doesn’t understand why Eve’s lips are suddenly absent. But she tunes in to reality quickly enough to move her hands from where they were tangled in Eve’s hair to her hips, steadying the smaller woman before Eve’s overeager clumsiness actually puts them both on the ground. A thought Villanelle is momentarily distracted by, as she immediately regrets her decision to keep them upright.
But with their faces now inches away, Villanelle can see the desire burning bright in Eve’s blown pupils, her lips swollen and a shade darker, the light from the lamps above highlighting her now-messy curls. Villanelle’s mind is blank, and her body feels bursting with pure electricity, a feeling she used to associate with a job well done until recently. This feeling right now is different though, it’s both familiar and brand new and she can’t quite decipher why but God, she hopes she has a lifetime to figure it out. It wasn’t until that moment that Villanelle realized Eve never answered her question. Not that she is complaining about the non-verbal response and all that followed, but in the brief time she’s spent apart from Eve’s lips, she begins to feel unsettled. Maybe she totally misread the situation, perhaps this is a goodbye kiss, or Eve is simply collecting another piece of the puzzle to solve what she believes to be the mystery of Villanelle. Her concerns must have shown on her face because Eve states so clearly that Villanelle is afraid she’s imagining it, “I want you, Villanelle.” Villanelle pauses for so long Eve must think she’s broken. But hearing those words out loud makes Villanelle realize she’s never heard them before. She keeps waiting for the other sock to drop, or whatever that stupid expression is, but is only met with silence and a stare so intense it could burn the bridge down. When Eve brings her thumb to Villanelle’s face and wipes away something wet, Villanelle is pulled from her thoughts and looks to the sky, wondering when it started raining, but she is met with the clearest night sky she’s ever seen in London, which isn’t saying a lot for this shitty town, but it definitely isn’t raining. It’s then, she realizes, Eve is wiping away a single tear that Villanelle has been holding for too long. Suddenly embarrassed and shy, Villanelle rolls her eyes at herself and quips, “What kind of psychopath cuts onions so late on the tower bridge?”