Work Text:
Yor was always quite fastidious with her cleanup at the scene, and today was no exception. If anything, she was particularly careful today; it was a special day.
I wonder what Loid has planned...
He had looked her in the eye that morning, the day after they both discovered they would be on separate missions -- on their anniversary, no less, damn it, both organizations knew that this is actually their anniversary and sent them out anyway -- anyway, he had looked her in the eye this morning with that tenderness that rarely came out before, save for park benches and Panzer rides.
Oh, after she'd braved kissing him, and after the whole truth came out, everything had changed, and that tenderness emerged more often, and she hardly understood it. What did it mean, to have him look at her like that when she burned the eggs, or when she pushed Anya a little too hard on the swings, or when she finally managed to hold his hand without combusting? It heated her through, like the comforting stew that took her back to the place she grew up in, and she was starting to be able to handle how full this made her... "meter." She was able to handle it so well, in fact, that she braved kissing him more often, (as often as she felt she could get away with), and the way he softened for her to let her in, the way her body closed into his arms, felt so right she didn't know why she had spent so much time overthinking it.
So anyway, he had looked her in the eye that morning, tenderly, and told her "I made plans, tonight, then," and said he'd booked a "room away for us, or at minimum for you" but "not like -- that; I don't expect anything," and now her mind was running in circles, because his voice had been like it was when he'd first said he loved her, that soft cracked tremble that said I can hardly believe you are real. She knew what it meant, because she felt it, too: when a hard thing, a set thing, a cold thing, is exposed to warmth the first time, the fractures are painful and sudden. It was a release -- that made them free to gather themselves back together, the way they wanted to be, but it was a slow process, with unsteady fingers and no sense for which piece went where.
So she had to be clean, after this job, immaculate even -- no blood she'd spilled could touch their shared space, no imperfection -- and so she was running late, and had no idea what sorts of things he had planned. They had not been intimate, in the traditional sense -- at this point it was more him holding back for whatever reason, and that was fine, though she, too, was unsure if she was ready for it -- but she so wanted to have a quiet evening alone with him without all the other worries. And she was running late.
They arrived to check in at the same time, to Yor's relief. He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand, near-black roses and burgundy astilbe, and was still in his work suit, which had been slightly torn, with some scrapes on his face and surely also elsewhere, his hair in the process of losing its part beneath his hat. She couldn't help but be reminded of their first date, and how adorably disheveled he'd been, so she smiled and watched how his shoulders relaxed in response.
"I'm ... I'm so sorry I'm a mess," he sighed as they stepped in the elevator, taking off his hat and placing it over his chest as his breaths continued to calm. "I came as soon as I could, and I'll have to wash up. But these are for you. They -- " and he stopped, and watched her expression.
(Was it just when their hands brushed as she took the blooms from him?)
They're so beautiful...
Yor buried her face in the petals, the soft spears of blood red tickling her cheeks, the deep scent of the blooms infusing into her lungs. She met his eyes through the fronds still in her face, and smiled further. "Loid, I love them. They're perfect."
His eyes went from flicking between hers to a steady, warm gaze, and he took another deep, shaky breath. "I'm glad." The corners of his mouth curved upwards a moment, then he pressed his lips together. "I want--"
But he couldn't finish his sentence. The soft music of the elevator filled the quiet space between their gazes.
The key clicked in the lock, Loid held open the door, and Yor gasped in delight, soon followed by a sense of her own inadequacy.
She didn't even think of the romance of it. It did not make her flush -- she knew that was not the point; he had been very clear over the last while that physicality was for her to initiate. The space was large and soft, with a balcony presenting a view of the city as the late-summer sunset dimmed; white curtains draped over every window; a chaise by a low table with cherry chocolates and a bottle of sparkling grape juice (he must have asked for this over wine). A large plush king bed sat at the center, with a feather-down duvet that looked like it would sink six inches if she sat on it.
For a moment, despite the romance of the room, the thoughts that filled her head were of of how she might sink further than the duvet allowed -- the weight she carried was too much, and she felt for a moment she could never set herself on it, else it might descend to hell to join her. She shook her head. Loid wouldn't want her thinking that, not while he was here with her.
Is this how normal people celebrate their anniversaries? I still don't feel like I deserve this comfort... should I even be here? I ... I am grateful, but.. I do wish I could be... normal, and ...
Loid spoke, as she stood taking in the room, as he swept it for bugs. "We can ah, discuss arrangements later, but I... I wanted... I plan to sleep on the couch; I hope the space is to your liking." He pulled a curtain, revealing a large spa tub inset in tile by a frost-windowed corner, with numerous scents and oils arranged, turning the handle to run the steaming tap. "You've been working so hard lately, and you should relax... if it's possible with me around, anyway. If not, I can go elsewhere entirely... though, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to step through the shower before I leave. Room's clear." He made moves, silently, to slip into the separate bathroom, hanging his hat on the hook and removing his tie.
Yor was confused. "Loid..." she said, softly. "...are you--" going to leave me alone? Not going to let yourself--?
Shouldn't this be for both of us? Couldn't he relax too? Why is he--?
She grabbed his wrist, and drew his hand to her waist, stepping near. I want... to be close to him. Maybe not... that... yet, but... he doesn't have to...
He was so close. The top button of his dress shirt was undone. He smelled of gunpowder and sweat and dried blood, and she didn't care. She just wanted him to stay with her.
She wondered, at the edge of her mind, if all of this was how he felt about her too.
His heart raced as she squeezed him to her, pressing her ear to his chest. "Loid--you don't have to... leave. Please don't leave. I... I can shut the curtain if I need, but I think ...I wouldn't... I think, know how to... be here, without you, or...or how to deserve soft things. I couldn't enjoy it, I think," and she pursed her lips together. "Not without you around, anyway."
And she drew close to him, and pressed her lips to his softly, and there -- that was what she needed from him. The quietest tremble that preceded his long sigh and the final release of the tension in his core. He set his forehead on hers.
The sentence that he had been flirting with finally assembled itself, it seemed, and he said it, swallowing once beforehand, his voice low. "I.., I think I was... of two minds about saying this, perhaps. But I think I want... rather ... I don't want to be Twilight tonight. If you'll let me."
"What do you mean?" She looked at him. Was he ever really Twilight, in her mind? Twilight was who he was when he had to be, a persona. And, yes, she'd learned it was his persona before Loid ever was, but there was something personal about him when he was Loid, especially lately, that Twilight was never allowed to touch. And Twilight, she knew, wasn't allowed to love her--but Loid, Loid did, Loid could not help but love her. And he had said as much, with every stolen kiss over the last month he had said as much, said that Twilight was his responsibility and his damnation but Loid was who he wanted to be when he was with her.
This time, he completed her thoughts for her just before she'd finished reaching the conclusion. She looked up at him, and a thin gloss had formed over his eyes.
"Tonight, I just want to be Loid. I just want to be a man, in love with his wife. In love with you. It's selfish of me, but you make me feel safe, and as if I can forget for a second..." He leaned his forehead against hers.
His hold around her was firm, as if even in asking for permission to be vulnerable he had to be strong for her. She leaned into his arms. "And if.... If I am just Yor, tonight, who is there to protect you?"
(She would protect him, always, Yor or otherwise. He knew that. But she needed her own assurances.)
"If I'm just Loid, and you're just Yor, then nobody cares who we are, and there's no danger." He kissed her lips, briefly. "That's.... how this works. Besides.." He kissed her again, longer, deeper in a way he'd held back from before, and her arms wrapped behind his neck as his hands stretched over her back, only stopping to finish his sentence when he ran out of breath. ".. you've always made me feel safe. Even before I knew."
She wanted to tangle all of her around him, and she held him entangled. She would be happy with just this tonight, so long as..
"Then join me, Loid?"
"Always. Where?"
"In... If it's okay, in the water? It's more than big enough for the two of us, I think. I don't want you away from me. Just to... sit, I think."
"Mmm. Can I at least rinse first? You can't want all this on you."
She disagreed -- she wasn't sure how to say it, but felt like she'd happily take the dirt from him if it meant he was closer, longer -- but nodded into his shoulder. It wouldn't be fair to him to refuse.
They both stood above the inset basin, wearing light terrycloth robes, in a standoff. Her face was red -- they hadn't been naked together, yet, though it was not something she was opposed to, just embarrassed by. And the soft of these robes, and the slightness draping over him, and the way the vee of the neck closed low over his stomach made her stomach curl over itself and her "meter" fill towards boiling again. She was stuck.
"Yor," Loid eventually said. "I pulled this for you. In fact--" he plucked two roses from the bouquet and spread the petals over the water. "There, now it's closer to what I envisioned. Please, if it's easier without me, I can step away."
She objected, with the thing that was still sitting in the back of her mind. It had nothing to do with him. "I feel like... I'm still much too dirty for this; I don't think I got all of the blood--" she sat at the edge, her toes just above the steam. It was a stupid objection.
"If you are, Yor, then so am I." He sat by her, and held her hand. His face turned towards her, and he was right, she knew, because his was the bloodied face today, and if anyone deserved that warm comfort it was him.
"But you're not..." She cupped his face with her opposite hand. "If.. if you've always felt safe with me, then I'll say.. I've always been in awe of you. You're so... Incredible. In comparison, I don't deserve you... I don't want you to have to see... how .. " Dirty, bloodstained, too violent for any...
He interrupted her thoughts. "If it helps, I won't look as you get in."
He turned around to let her disrobe, and it did help.
She felt just concealed enough by the turbulence of the soft jets in the water and the floating petals, and said as much. He slipped in across from her as she closed her eyes, and she did not realize the bath could get any warmer. It did fully relax her, and her muscles, and she sighed deeply as the heat sank into her bones, and she slipped deeper to her chin. She opened her eyes to his form near her, and he was looking at her again, his bare shoulders also scratched, though not as badly as his face.
"So, just Loid," she murmured. "What do we do now?"
"We could sit and enjoy simply being here," he replied, still watching her. "It's entirely up to you." He set his arm on the rim of the basin, invitingly. Or she felt invited, anyway, to sit with him as they often sat on the couch lately -- it wouldn't be that much more, would it, to sit here, still covered, just by water? -- so she glided to join him. They had practiced this, at home, just for themselves -- sitting side by side, his arm around her, and it was perfect for tilting her head up for another kiss, and every kiss was a chance to know him -- she felt he always poured something of himself that even Loid didn't know into each one.
The wrap of his hand over her shoulder was no more than usual -- but the dampness between them above the steam, the firmness of his chest against her back and the floating soft hairs of his leg tickling the side of her smooth-shaven thigh made everything more. She gasped lightly, involuntary, as their legs brushed, which made his breath stutter with his heartbeat, which made her own heart race. Fortunately the resulting roar in her ears was mistakable for the thrum of the water, and she was managing it, except..
"I... don't know where to place my hands, Loid--"
She held her hands together in front of her in indecision, braving a look at his face, and he was looking at her like that again, and his heart and his breath hadn't stopped stuttering (sometimes she hated how aware she was of his heart rate, because of the overall feedback effect with her own).
"Hm," he said eventually after he'd calmed it a little, the baritone of his voice traveling through to her under the surface. "Wherever you want."
Oh, but where she wanted -- she briefly pictured running them down his neck to his chest, the way she did when they cuddled clothed -- and her eyes followed the path she wanted her hands to -- and not that! She would combust. She'd have to keep them above the surface, or on her lap -- she shook her head ineffectually to dispel the image. This left a question in his eyes.
"Sorry, I--you know."
He did; he smiled, leaning his head towards her. "Your meter again, hm?"
A stray bang of his hair fell forward, damp from his quick rinse, which hadn't fully cleared the gel. Watching it seemed the fastest way to calm herself, focusing on caring for him instead of her own racing heart.
"Loid," she began, reaching for the strand. "Is your hair -- Do you want -- wait-- no, could I...?"
He will never tell me if he wants something. I can only ask if I may.
The tiniest amount of mischief entered his eyes, which she adored -- her hand had just reached under the strand on his forehead, when he shook his head a little, flinging a few droplets onto her face. "Could you what? Touch my face? Yes." He leaned into her hand and closed his eyes. "Yes." He pressed his nose and lips into her palm, without moving his gaze from her, as if he would have kissed her palm if he didn't know what she could do in retaliation.
Her fingers reached up his scalp, detangling more of it. "Hee hee, Loid, no, seriously. .. could I ... wash it? If it's okay with you. How do you want it? This gel can't be comfortable."
And then she worried if she'd said something wrong, because he shuddered.
But -- his eyes were not upset, they held that look again, and he placed his hand over hers, threading their fingers and kissing the base of her palm without thought, more intensely with each press. "I'm sorry, Yor, if..." he murmured with her gasp--though there was nothing to be sorry for, she thought-- "but I need to do this. I need to. You--" kiss "--you, Yor--" kiss "--are so caring--" kiss "--and I don't know how --" kiss "--to get you to accept I planned this for you." His lips had begun to work down her wrist. "Let me give you nice things."
The hypocrite. If only he would let her care for him. He had been planning to leave, and take nothing of this warmth or softness for himself when he needed it more than her.
He is the one hurt right now! He has hardly cared for himself!
"Loid, you're one to talk," she scolded, and broke her hand (fully scalded, though not from the water) from his grip. "You're hurt and you're focused on me. You're covered in scrapes and I just want to help you and you're ... I don't know, turning it back to me. Stop doing that."
He blinked at her, stunned, a little hurt, grasping back at her shoulder weakly. "But this is for you. Is it not good enough? Do you not like--"
She set her hand to his face, her thumb over his lips, arresting him a moment. "Stop trying to be perfect, Loid. You don't have to be ever, but especially not right now."
"Yor. Yor--" he looked terrified, and his heart raced again, his pulse under her fingers, his sentences running over themselves. "--That's the only part of me I don't know how to change. If I'm not perfect for you, would you-- or... I -- if-- I wouldn't be able to.... live with myself if I lost--"
This wouldn't do.
She took the back of his head and clashed her face to his, not too hard (she had learned from a number of bloody noses) but hard as was safe, and he groaned and wrapped his hand around her waist and her "meter" was forgotten, and so was their brief disagreement. There was no speaking, nor thinking, not for a few minutes, until they separated, breathless, both pink from the heat of the water and whatever it was that had just happened.
"I love you," he breathed. "I don't deserve you."
She shook her head. "If you don't deserve me, then I don't deserve you. Loid, just Loid, I love you. But also all of the rest of you."
His lips met hers this time, long and slow and deep, and she began to shift herself closer, needing to press herself--
He set her gently, back, off of his lap. He'd kept her from entangling him too tightly, to her chagrin. "You didn't seem to have too much difficulty with your meter just now. But I promised. Um, besides--" he chuckled. "It's not that good underwater. If you think you want it, you don't."
She understood, and reddened from the implications, backing up and sloshing, though she did not want to let go of him, so she didn't.
"...Ah! Um--I ... Uh, didn't mean to--! If--sorry! I didn't mean to make you -- I -- I... think I'm so comfortable because I knew you'd stop." She fluffed a few of the damp hairs on the back of his head, and winced at one of the crusts. "If... if you'd rather keep this simple. Can I please?"
He nodded, "I... would like that. If--" He reached for one of her long strands of hair that was drifting in the water, lifting it and setting it behind her shoulder, the coolness of it refreshing after being in the air. "--if you'd at least let me return the favor."
"I can accept that compromise," she said, then winced to herself.
Twilight was still grappling with what he called his compromise. He'd been trying to forget tonight, she was sure of it.
But a small flicker crossed his eyes, then resolve. "Loid Forger loves compromises," he said seriously, slowly letting his mouth round over the words. Then smiled slightly, with a spark in his eye adding, "and compromising positions, especially with you."
"Loid!" Yor splashed him, drenching his face and creating a standing wave in the tub.
He sputtered as he emerged, grinning. "Was that too far?"
"Do you want me to kiss you again? Because I will and..." She paused. "I think we're both not quite ready for what would happen after that. So turn around, love, and let me wash your hair. And pick your scent."
"Mmm. Okay... Bergamot and rose." He conceded, turning away from her, baring his neck to her. He was so light right now, and if he could be so light all the time -- oh, she wished that for him. Because she saw that in him, in his heart: that he was a man made for the light, forced as she was to survive in the burgeoning darkness. Forced into Twilight, as it were, by the circumstances.
Twilight would never bare his neck so trustingly to an assassin--if he really understood who she was, would he--
But he does understand who I am, she thought, and tonight, he's Loid, and I'm Yor, and we.. don't have to think like that. She would have to borrow some of his resolve, but she'd do her best.
So she sighed, and lathered his hair, and he leaned back into her, and she let herself be happy. "Thank you, Loid. For letting me care for you. For reminding me.. that I can enjoy the soft things."
He hummed in assent and appreciation, keeping his eyes closed until she was done, having soaped and conditioned his hair until smooth. As she smoothed a washcloth over over the nicks and scrapes from his day she cherished feeling each of his muscles twitch and give way beneath her touch.
"My turn, now" he said eventually, and she assumed the reverse pose, her back to him, and he gathered her hair long, running his hands along it damply, washing her in silence, meditating.
"Both our hands are dirty," he eventually said as he reached the conclusion, breaking the silence that had only been punctuated by the occasional slosh of water. "Though I often feel like mine are dirtier, and I'm sure you feel yours are." He ran his hands down her shoulders, and she leaned back into him, letting his slip his hands over her bare stomach under the surface, sighing into it as he set his chin on her shoulder. "Maybe instead of worrying about whether we deserve each other, we can just say we're lucky to have each other. I'm ... " --he choked out a laugh, seeming to surprise himself, his voice rasping more the longer he continued. "...lucky to have you in my life, Yor. You, and Anya, are the first good luck to have ever even thought of gracing me in my life. Even if you're the last, it has been enough to remind me that there is some good in this world. You made my life worth living again."
He buried his face in her neck, confessing to her skin, his voice barely there. "I don't remember the last time I wanted to be alive."
She cried. The water meant she couldn't feel if he shed any tears, but she had a feeling, considering the occasional shake of his shoulders and the twitching of his face, that he was crying too.
They slowly got out once the water started to cool, drying completely, trying some of the chocolates, languidly transitioning to getting into bed.
"I'll still take the couch," Loid had said, and Yor would have none of it. "If you don't deserve that bed, I don't either, and I'll sleep on the floor"--and he'd nodded solemnly and insisted she pick her side.
Yor sat by him in her nightgown, under the covers. She did sink into the bed, but not impossibly so, thanks to him. It was warm, but not too warm, though she had a feeling that if they touched too much she'd heat up again and get no sleep.
She turned to face him, instead, as she shuffled under the covers. He was still watching her, his head half in the pillow, his hair finally loose and soft, a boyish expression on his face, that look again mixed with... she wasn't sure. Something lighter, and it made her heart happy.
"I don't think I was fully Loid tonight," he said eventually, after she was looking back at him half-pillowed as well, "but that's okay. It was the most myself I've been in a long time, which I think is what I actually wanted."
She wasn't sure what to say back, so she set her hand between them. "I'm... always Yor. And .." she giggled. "Always yours? And from what I know of you, I think you've put a lot of yourself into Loid."
He took the offered hand, as he groaned, "More than I ever should have. But who am I, anyway?"
She squeezed it, sleepy, bringing it to her face to kiss his fingers before setting it back between them. "You're a man who does way too much to care for everyone except himself, and who puts way too much pressure on himself to be perfect, and who needs to--" yawn "--get some sleep. Which I'm still not entirely sure you were planning to do tonight."
He blushed, barely visible under the dim light. "I ... do sleep."
"Will you, tonight?"
"Maybe. At least a little."
"...Can I do anything to help?"
...if I asked... it's--"
"Please. Tell your wife how to love you."
"....sing to me?"
So she did, and in doing so the bed became a cloud, and they drifted lightly there together, just themselves for one night.