Chapter Text
The undercity never sleeps. A simmering tension slithers through its streets, always teetering on the edge of something. Sevika and Vi are no strangers to the intoxicating push and pull of it. They’re similar in that way, restless, drawn ceaselessly into the chaos.
They call a truce after midnight. Even when they’re bloody and bruised by each other’s own hands. Doesn’t matter. That’s the deal that they made. When one day ends and another begins, they leave all their shit at the door. Sevika swings it open, metallic arm braced against the top. Vi squeezes through the small gap between her and the door frame, brushing her hand against Sevika’s abdomen in casual greeting.
It's just after one. Sevika shuts the door, locking it behind her, turns back to face the room, assessing. She notes the rigid set of Vi’s shoulders - even through bulky coveralls - her body stiff as she moves. She observes silently as she immediately unzips them down to her hips, the sleeves dangling from her arms as she drops down onto the couch. With a deep sigh, she closes her eyes and sinks back into the cushions.
Sevika moves to the kitchen without greeting, grabs a couple of glasses and the nearest bottle of liquor that looks remotely palatable. Words are usually sparse between them, unnecessary; a touch, a nod, a drink – they’ll suffice in a pinch. If Vi wanted to be showered with affection, she’d go somewhere else.
Vi has stretched out further when she returns, now shoeless feet propped up on the coffee table, arms resting beneath her head on the back of the couch. It seems a shame to disturb her when she’s like this. Sevika takes a moment to give her a once over from the doorway instead. The tank top she’s wearing– black, short, tight – has ridden up, exposing a vast expanse of taut, lean muscle between the hem and the visible waistband of her underwear. It piques her interest, naturally, but also her curiosity, a thought forming itself in the back of her mind as she considers her – her starkly defined abs, her jutting hip bones, her pale skin, the deep, bruised purple beneath her eyes; it does make her wonder.
‘You’re staring,’ Vi says, not opening her eyes.
Sevika sighs, doesn’t respond. She slips back into the kitchen, emerging with a box to accompany the bottle.
‘Hey, what the fuck?’ Vi exclaims when Sevika roughly kicks her feet off the table.
‘It’s a nice fucking table.’
Vi huffs as Sevika settles in beside her, leaning over to pour two drinks. She slides one over to Vi, who drains the glass in seconds and pushes it back again. The cogs turn in Sevika’s mind again. Shit. She tosses the box into her lap.
Vi gives her a look. What?
Sevika tilts her head slightly, rolling her eyes. Just- fucking open it.
Vi shrugs and opens the box, the air between them thick with the scent of ramen and dumplings, the best the undercity has to offer in Sevika’s opinion. Lately, she’s been buying a little more than she can manage on her own.
Vi begins to hand the box back to her, ‘I’m not—’
‘Bullshit.’ Sevika reaches out to stop her, fingers landing on Vi’s. ‘Have you eaten anything today?’
Vi looks at her. She can see her mind spinning, searching for a good enough answer to put an end to whatever this is. There’s a hint of a flush blooming in her cheeks. ‘Been busy. It’s fine,’ she eventually settles on. Sevika can still feel the resistance of the takeout box against her hand. They’re in a deadlock. She changes tack.
‘You still training? Looks like it, you’re in good shape.’ She allows her eyes a leisurely tour - from head to toe and back again. She’s not lying.
Vi scoffs, but the flush grows. She nods, fighting the curve that threatens her mouth.
‘Won’t stay that way if you don’t eat, string bean.’ She pushes firmly so that the box lands back in Vi’s lap. She scowls.
‘Fine, jesus.’ She picks up a fork and waves it in Sevika’s face before dipping it into the box. After a few tentative bites, she inhales almost the entire thing. ‘Happy?’ she asks around a mouthful of noodle. A tension releases from somewhere in the pit of Sevika’s stomach, where she didn’t realise it was living. She shrugs.
They don’t move or talk while Vi finishes up. Sevika rests her eyes, in between glances at her. It’s only the tip of the iceberg, she knows, but she’s not going to push. It’s none of her fucking business. She doesn’t even know why she’s thinking about it at all. Jesus, this fucking girl.
‘Stop looking at me like that.’ Vi turns to sit sideways on the couch, dumping the empty box on the table. Sevika feels her gaze burning a hole into the side of her head, can’t look at her all of a sudden. Vi reaches forward. Strong fingers grasp her jaw and tilt her face, forcing eye contact. ‘Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once, I’m fine. It’s been a long, shitty week, but I’m good. Understand?’ Sevika offers a single nod. ‘I just need to get out of my head for the night. That’s why we’re both here right?’ Her eyes darken, grip tightens. ‘So, are you gonna stop being such a pussy and fuck me or am I going home?’ An easy, teasing grin curls at her lips as she leans within a breath of Sevika. ‘Anyone would think that you care, Sev,’ she says, just loud enough for her to hear. Cocky little shit.
Sevika shifts forward, trapping one of her wrists in a punishing grip and pressing her back into the couch. ‘Watch it, brat,’ she whispers into her ear, bites down in the spot she likes just below.
Vi hisses, turns her head and suddenly their lips and tongues and teeth are clashing together. Familiar. They both know what they’re here for.
Sevika sits back up, swinging Vi over to straddle her. She likes her on top, to begin with. She mouths roughly down her jaw and neck, like she always does, and Vi lets out a series of tiny gasps, like she always does, but after a moment, rests her head against Sevika’s, tender, docile, no bite to her.
The heated haze immediately clears from Sevika’s mind. She learned a long time ago not to ignore her instincts, but Vi knows all the right buttons to push, and damn if she didn’t fall for her distraction tactics right away. She feels it now, the way that Vi’s wrists are clasped limply around her neck, her body heavy in her lap, unmoving. They’ve been doing this long enough for her to know that Vi gives as good as she gets, so it’s obvious that she has nothing to give. Is Vi really so unwilling to give anything away that she’ll allow herself to be used like this? Let Sevika do whatever she wants with her pliant body, so long as there aren’t any chinks in her armour?
Sevika could easily take advantage, but she doesn’t want Vi like this, placid and passive. She wants her to want her, to need her, and she hates herself for wanting so much. When they’d first started this, she probably would’ve continued regardless, wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t even have noticed. She hates the way she’s learned her, grown used to her, committed the rhythms of her body, her moods, to memory. It’s making her insane. That’s not what this is. They don’t know each other, not anymore. Too much history behind locked doors. They don’t talk. They don’t feel.
They fuck. They fuck until they feel good, until they feel better. They take what they need and then they part ways. That’s it.
That’s it. So, she kisses her again, tries to push past that gnawing in her gut, but Vi only allows herself to be kissed, doesn’t kiss her back, doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t writhe against her. No fever. No ferocity. No Vi.
Sevika pulls away from her, a little lightheaded. ‘Enough.’
‘Enough?’
‘You don’t want this right now.’
‘Fuck you, you don’t know what I want,’ she breathes, eyes burning. She reaches for her, finally. Now that she’s not getting her way. Sevika almost laughs.
She blocks her with a hand on her wrist, gentler this time. ‘Not tonight.’
The silent look they share seems to span an age, bodies still close, arms still clasped together.
Vi’s steely eyes shutter and her mouth sets in a hard line. ‘Fuck sake,’ she pulls herself out of Sevika’s lap and moves to stand, ‘good for one fucking thing and you can’t even do that.’
The sharp sting of it is an unwelcome surprise, and she hopes like fuck she isn’t wearing it on her face, because surely Vi is right - this is what they do. There’s no other reason for her to be here if she can’t give her what they agreed on.
Neither of them have moved though, Vi still standing in front of the couch, Sevika’s fingers still wrapped around her wrist. Vi’s eyes flicker as she watches her, and the scowl slips slowly from her face. Sevika’s heart is in her asshole. ‘I didn’t mean … I’m sor—’
‘Stay,’ Sevika says, before her brain manages to catch up with her mouth.
‘What?’
It’s a risk, but Vi’s not the only one who’s tired. She lets go of her wrist, releasing her from any kind of obligation, and sinks back into the couch, rubbing her hands over her eyes. ‘I’m not going to do this with you tonight because you’re obviously fucking exhausted Vi. I don’t fuck girls who don’t wanna be fucked,’ A pause. A breath, ‘but you can stay here, if you want.’
‘You—' Vi stutters, emotions flitting across her features so fast she couldn’t catch one to identify it.
‘You need to sleep, Violet.’ She doesn’t miss the way Vi’s head snaps up at the use of her full name. Outside of the bedroom it feels almost dangerous. ‘It’s quiet enough, and you won’t be disturbed. You got anywhere to be tomorrow?’
Vi just shakes her head, all the fire burned out of her. Sevika can’t blame her for not knowing what to make of this. Hell, she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing either.
‘Okay … okay,’ Vi says, and Sevika isn’t sure of who she’s trying to convince more. She comes back to settle herself on the couch, but Sevika shakes her head and stands, nods in the direction of her bedroom. She’s already started digging the hole, what’s a little more?
‘Come on.’
When they reach the threshold, Vi looks up at her, dazed. ‘What the fuck is this?’ she asks.
‘Fuck if I know,’ she shoves the door open, ‘let’s just sleep it off and go back to being cunts again in the morning huh?’
Vi huffs out a tired laugh as the door shuts behind them.
The way it started was brutal and dirty, the way most things between them were. It was a brawl, a no-rules smackdown. It had been an age. Both of them bloody and heaving and exhausted, no victor yet determined, no sign of either one backing down either. Sevika had spotted an opening, managed to swing the upper hand. She had Vi against a crumbling wall in the old bar, held up by her throat, metallic hand grasping her, not quite tight enough to crush. Vi used her momentum to swing her legs off the wall and kick Sevika directly in the cunt. She grunted, low and furious, shoving her weight into Vi through a knee to the crotch, keeping her pinned. Vi squirmed to get out of her grasp, bucking her hips a couple of times in the process. Sevika pressed her knee in further, fingers on her throat steady and still. Had they not been close enough to breathe each other’s air, Sevika may not have noticed the exact moment when the fear and fury in Vi’s icy blue eyes shifted into something else, so quick she could have missed it before her face contorted into a scowl and she spit into Sevika’s face. ‘Bitch,’ she choked out.
Sevika pressed her knee up, with intention, easing the pressure around her throat just a little. ‘Brat.’
Neither of them had moved in several seconds, their ragged breaths the only sound filling the air around them. The fury and disgust in Vi’s expression was at war with her eyes - dark, hungry. Sevika took a risk, pressing in closer and driving her knee up once more. Vi’s head dropped back, mouth opening. Sevika took another risk.
It was hot and wet and messy and violent. She could taste Vi’s blood in her mouth as she came on her fingers. It surprised her, how much it riled her up, how much she needed it. God. She took her again on the old pool table, and again over the bar. There was light peeking out from behind the clouds by the time they both left, dirty and used, unable to even give each other one last look before parting ways.
Vi lasted an entire week before she sought her out again, sauntering past the window of the bar where she sometimes played cards and catching her eye, lit cigarette dangling from her mouth. Sevika lasted far less time but, unfortunately for her, had no idea where the fuck Vi was half the time, so settled for a couple of mediocre brothel visits to tide her over. It was a little embarrassing how quickly she abandoned the game to join her outside.
Vi took a long drag before handing the cigarette over. It was mostly burnt out, but there was at least one good puff left in it. She didn’t seem intent on beating the shit out of her like the last time they ran into each other. Sevika took a drag and turned to Vi, taking her chin in her hand and running her thumb over her lower lip before pressing it into her mouth. Vi’s brow furrowed, as though she might retreat, but she offered no resistance. Sevika gave a little tug and her mouth dropped open obligingly. She leaned in and breathed the smoke into her waiting mouth. The barest hint of a smile crept onto Vi’s face. When the smoke was gone, Sevika replaced it with her tongue. She could’ve fucked her right there against the wall, fuck who saw them - it was the undercity, they’d seen worse - but Vi broke off after a few minutes, flushed and breathless, disentangling herself and jerking her head in the direction she then began walking. Sevika followed her to what looked like a squat of some kind. It seemed empty, and there was a mattress, which was a significant improvement on the hard surfaces they’d encountered so far.
When she tore the last of Vi’s clothes from her, she was eternally grateful for the privacy the empty building offered, and the opportunity for uninterrupted exploration. She was loud, god, was she loud. Sevika hadn’t been expecting that. She’d obviously held herself back the first time – ragged gasps and quiet whimpers. Here, the silence of the abandoned squat was punctuated by deep, guttural moans, high, needy whines and scattered, filthy curses. Sevika was drunk on it.
The next time they encountered one another, Sevika slipped a piece of paper with an address into her hand, one which few possessed. ‘Don’t come knocking before midnight, brat.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’