Well, I told you so. [ if he wasn't going to say it, she would. and she had told him so, too. the bone had definitely looked broken, and he would have only hurt it further avoiding doctor's care.
which begs the question... ] What made you change your mind?
[ because he had been steadfastly against seeing a doctor, last she remembered, and she was pretty sure that the safehouse was likely too busy when he'd dropped her off to tend to it right away. which would mean he would have had to come back another time without seeing her, and then come back tonight too.
[ he looks down at his fingers, one of the few parts of his hands that's visible and gives them another wiggle because it gives him something to do while he contemplates her question. ]
I thought it would be the smart thing to do. [ and he hadn't wanted her to be mad at him. was there a way to vocalize that and not sound completely ridiculous? his jaw works back and forth before he finally settles on an answer. ]
Because you asked me to. [ he has no feelings. he is an emotionless russian. ]
[ she's quiet for a moment, gaze still lingering on his bandaged hand and fingers on the bed, before her hand reaches out to brush over it. careful, so not to put too much pressure, but just enough to feel the texture of it all. to gauge his reactions. ]
I'm glad you did. [ her gaze tips back up to his, finally, a small smile playing on her features. ] I was worried about you.
[ well, mostly she was unconscious and in pain, but in her lucid moments, she thought of him. of rey and fitz and peggy and markus and a million other people too, but every so often, her thoughts would loop back to him. she'd almost texted him so many times, just to see if he would answer. ]
[ he watches her fingers slide closer to his and then over his. he doesn't flinch because there is only pain when he does certain things and resting his hand on a sheet while someone else touches it is not one of those things.
his gaze is rapt on the scene though, watching her fingers brush over his and then further up against the hard casing of the bandage the doctor had put on him. ]
You shouldn't have been. [ and no, that wasn't because he was proud or thought he was fine. ] You should have been focusing on yourself and your health first and foremost.
The doctors are very good here, Illya. [ droll, almost deadpan; she'll indulge him the reassurance, but she doesn't need to be told to be a good patient. (she's admittedly not a very good one, but stephen and the other doctors have told her off plenty. no reason to admit that to him too.) ] I'll be fine.
[ her hand doesn't pull away from his, though. it lingers, fingers twining softly around his palm, lifting it up in order to let her hand curl around his, tentative and careful. ]
Well, you weren't going to get very far on your own. [ the corners of his mouth flicker like he wants to smile but doesn't quite know how. either way, it had been a joke, not a serious admonishment.
her hand is smaller than his and he continues watching, fascinated and amazed, as she moves to hold his hand. he waits until it looks like her fingers are done moving and then he gives her fingers the barest of squeezes. ]
You're welcome. [ he nods once. ] I'm glad that you're recovering. It looked bad for a few moments.
[ he would have thrown the world's worst temper tantrum, to be fair, and the kids they'd been protecting didn't deserve to see that. plus, he would have been insufferable with the know-it-alling. ]
I might die of boredom in this safehouse, though. They don't even have basic cable.
[ because he knows there had been some finality in the words she'd said as she left. he'd heard it and that had just made things burn even more. but, she is alive so he drops it and reaches down with his free hand to pick something up. ]
Yes well, I brought something with me that you might like. [ checkers. remember checkers? ]
[ she can't even pretend to hide the surprise in her voice, or the wide smile that brightens up her face. she's touched, really. and yes, she does remember when their situations were reversed, and she's pleased that he does too. even a little flustered by it, if the flush to her cheeks is any indication. ]
Why wouldn't I remember? [ that whole day had been chaotic and overwhelming but there had been some parts that hadn't been terrible. even if she'd beaten him handily, he'd, daresay, enjoyed himself as much as possible during that tumultuous time. ]
Do you want to play? Are you okay enough to do that? [ he peers over her and his eyes narrow a bit. ]
You're not running a fever, are you? [ the red cheeks and all. he's dumb, okay? ]
[ shut up, daisy. he's going to throw the checkerboard in the trash if you drink up your victory. he's being very nice by granting you a second game! ]
Your cheeks are red.
[ ...which could denote a fever? ]
I wasn't sure. [ does he know what a blush is? yes, because he's done it a few times himself. does he think she'd blush around him? magic eight ball says try back later. ]
[ oh, god, now you've fucking done it. now she's aware that she's blushing, the back of her free hand pressing against her cheeks (warm to the touch, though her forehead's still cool), said flush only growing worse as she dips her head down. embarrassed as fuck. it's fine. it'll be fine.
somebody say something. free her from her misery. ]
Are you all right? [ maybe he should not have brought up the redness on her cheeks. she doesn't look like she's getting sick or anything but his brow still furrows and he tries to bend his head to catch her eyes. ]
Do I need to get a doctor? [ her poor cheeks. they were so red. instinctively, he reaches over to touch the back of his fingers to her cheek, trying to gauge if she's running a fever all the sudden. ]
[ that's the thing about touching. skin-to-skin, it comes with more than just the temperature of the other person. there's emotions at play, fueled and transferred by the empathy bond present between them, and this is no exception.
as illya brushes the back of his hand over her skin, daisy's emotional state transfers over — it's muddled and unclear, thanks to her own internal panic, but there's plenty to choose from. embarrassment, front and center, but what feels suspiciously like happiness, too. not quite the same kind of happiness as might come from a gift, though. it's more personal, like seeing someone you've missed for a long time or finding that someone does care for you after feeling alone for quite a while. it's a mix of feelings, but if illya remembers being a boy at all, he might recognize the sensation of a first crush somewhere in there too. ]
You're... [ so dumb. so stupid. how does she feel like she's wearing a damn neon sign that says "hey loser, i kind of like you or something" and he has no idea what's happening? ] I don't have a fever, I promise.
[ he sometimes forgets about the empathy bond. he is used to hiding almost all of his emotional responses from everyone around him. and if something were to slip out, he was quick to pull it back and bury it down. he's down that for years. for his entire life, it seems and so, his emotions, if she's paying attention are there but incredibly muted because of how he's built himself up.
there is, of course, concern. concern for her well being and welfare, that she get better sooner rather than later. underneath there, she might be able to find relief. immense and immeasurable relief that she is still here with him today and that she can blush. and then, probably hardest to reach, would be a quiet fondness that he doesn't really understand. a brightness when she'd woken up and started talking, a sigh when she'd taken his hand.
but, she would have to look very hard. ]
I'm...? [ she's trailed off and he knows she had to have been thinking of something. he tilts his head and watches her, trying to figure out what he's felt from her. happiness that she chalks up to being all right. and something warmer than that that he cannot pinpoint. but it's warm and it's nice and he'd liked it. ]
Ridiculous, [ she offers as explanation, fond and soft and stupidly, inexplicably endeared. he is ridiculous, and the waves of emotions that flood over her only confirm it.
concern is obvious. so obvious that daisy dismisses it almost immediately, because it's come through from everyone who's brushed a hand over her skin in the last few days. doctors, friends, people who have stopped by just to gawk at her for whatever reason. it's understandable, and so not very interesting.
but there's something else much more intriguing threaded in between. relief, yes, the kind she felt when fitz had spluttered water after nearly drowning or when may had staggered back to them after a bad fight, alive but clinging to it. relief at someone important being okay, at the avoidance of loss after so many times of being stuck with it.
but beyond that, so well-hidden amongst everything else that daisy almost misses it, is something she doesn't expect. a gentleness that seems to mirror the flush in her cheeks, the delicate touch of her hand when it had wrapped around his own. it makes her think about feelings that lay well beyond the confines of wanting or friendship or easy benefit arrangements.
things that don't exist, basically. ]
And stubborn, [ she finally states, as if snapping herself out of her thoughts. ] And thankfully, a little clueless, which makes it really easy to beat you at checkers.
[ sorry. did he really think she wouldn't bring it up? ]
I am not clueless. [ he makes a face, pulling his hand back and trying to dismiss what he'd just felt from her while trying to ignore what might have felt from him. he tells himself that she couldn't have, that he buried it too deep and she wasn't that interested in looking through whatever he was projecting. ]
Or ridiculous. [ he would give her stubborn though. he was very stubborn and he was proud of it. stubborn had kept him alive on many an occasion.
he blows out a breath and unfolds the checkers board, setting the pieces up with one hand because, despite what she might have felt (she didn't), he hasn't made to take his hand back from hers yet. ]
And you're not going to win. The first time was a fluke.
You're clueless to the fact that you're clueless, I feel like that proves my point.
[ thankfully, as his hand pulls away from her face and removes the emotional bond that came with his touch, daisy's cheeks start to lose their color, fading back to their normal shade. small miracles.
though, interestingly enough, he hasn't pulled his other hand away. it's still gently clutched in hers, and he's trying to set up the checkers pieces with just the other. it's neither practical nor efficient, but considering daisy doesn't exactly have anywhere else to be, she's willing to let him be a little silly if he wants. ]
Took you long enough. [ but it doesn't mean she won't rib him a little for it when all's finished. ] Are you planning on losing as black again today?
You say that without any proof to support your claims. Your opinion isn't enough.
[ you hadn't let go either, daisy. it takes two to tango and your fingers are still wrapped around his hand so there was a little ridiculousness on both sides. he finishes with the pieces and pushes the board closer to her so she doesn't have to strain to reach. ]
I'm going to be black and I'm not going to lose. Go.
[ he nods at the board. ] The injured one can take the first move.
[ duh. don't you know anything about checkers, illya?
though it's probably a good thing that checkers isn't a two-handed sport, because daisy's steadfastly refused to let go. in fact, she's shifted in bed, clearing a little more space for him; her hand tugs on his until he's got no choice to come a little closer. the implication is clear: get in the bed. keep her company. let her cuddle. ]
[ he was trying to be nice daisy! if she insists on him taking the first move, he will though. he's scanning the board when he feels an insistent tug on his hand and looks up to find her shifting and scooting over to make...space.
he frowns, trying to make sure he understands what she's telling him before he gets to his feet. the hospital bed is far, far too small for this and his feet are going to just dangle off the side but...but okay.
it takes some work and he feels like he's going to fall off if she so much as breathes wrong but he eventually gets himself on the bed beside her, his side plastered to hers from shoulder to hip to leg. he has to let go of her hand so he can slip it around her shoulders before he finally settles into somewhat of a comfortable position
his legs do hang off the bed but the checkers board was un jostled. ]
[ full disclosure: she hadn't realized how small the bed was. maybe that's because he's got a foot of height on her, or maybe it's because she's just too tired to really care all that much, but either way, daisy realizes the Bed Dilemma once his body begins to squash up against her own.
this won't do. she can hardly wriggle around, let alone lay comfortably — but kicking him out? so not an option. instead, daisy shifts into him, allowing more and more of her body to lean atop his own; by the time she's satisfied, he's been able to shift more into the center of the bed, and her head rests snugly on his chest, her hair splayed out around it. very cozy.
she cannot reach the board from here, because her arms are not that long (and also because they are very comfortably resting too), but she can always dictate her moves and make him do the work. if they ever actually start the game. as for his question? well. that takes some careful thought. ]
I don't know. [ or not. ] I like spending time with you.
[ he's too tall for this bed. it's a tight fit at first and he almost suggests getting back up and retaking his seat but doesn't get that far before she starts moving around until half of her body's on top of his. it's....different to say the least. solo certainly hadn't done this when he'd been injured.
he doesn't know where to put his hands so they end up resting at his sides for the time being. ]
You do? [ he can't help being surprised. that sort of thing, it just doesn't happen to him. so, he's surprised. but underneath that, maybe there's a sliver of pleasure. of want of the same thing? he doesn't even know what he's feeling. ]
So, what do you want if you win? [ if not when. but, to soften that blow to her ego about her future checkers victory, he does pick up one of his hands to slide it around the curve of her shoulders, idly moving his fingers back and forth. ]
Mmmmmhm, [ a quiet, hummed agreement to his initial question, the sound reverberates in her chest, echoing through to his. she does like spending time with him. he's quiet, in his own way, and insufferably stoic in others — but illya's smart, and honest, and unflinchingly himself in a way daisy doesn't often get to appreciate. and he likes her, whether by his own choice or the fact that she's worn him down, and that helps too.
plus, some little voice in the back of her head adds, he's good at other things too. but she's not thinking about those things right now. ]
Something nice. [ without much thought behind it, the hand that's currently splayed out against his chest lifts; her fingertips trail weaving patterns that seem to mirror the ones he's tracing on her back. ] Connor and Fitz went to space.
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which begs the question... ] What made you change your mind?
[ because he had been steadfastly against seeing a doctor, last she remembered, and she was pretty sure that the safehouse was likely too busy when he'd dropped her off to tend to it right away. which would mean he would have had to come back another time without seeing her, and then come back tonight too.
illya, what are you doing? are those feelings? ]
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I thought it would be the smart thing to do. [ and he hadn't wanted her to be mad at him. was there a way to vocalize that and not sound completely ridiculous? his jaw works back and forth before he finally settles on an answer. ]
Because you asked me to. [ he has no feelings. he is an emotionless russian. ]
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I'm glad you did. [ her gaze tips back up to his, finally, a small smile playing on her features. ] I was worried about you.
[ well, mostly she was unconscious and in pain, but in her lucid moments, she thought of him. of rey and fitz and peggy and markus and a million other people too, but every so often, her thoughts would loop back to him. she'd almost texted him so many times, just to see if he would answer. ]
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his gaze is rapt on the scene though, watching her fingers brush over his and then further up against the hard casing of the bandage the doctor had put on him. ]
You shouldn't have been. [ and no, that wasn't because he was proud or thought he was fine. ] You should have been focusing on yourself and your health first and foremost.
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[ her hand doesn't pull away from his, though. it lingers, fingers twining softly around his palm, lifting it up in order to let her hand curl around his, tentative and careful. ]
Thank you, by the way. For carrying me.
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her hand is smaller than his and he continues watching, fascinated and amazed, as she moves to hold his hand. he waits until it looks like her fingers are done moving and then he gives her fingers the barest of squeezes. ]
You're welcome. [ he nods once. ] I'm glad that you're recovering. It looked bad for a few moments.
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[ he would have thrown the world's worst temper tantrum, to be fair, and the kids they'd been protecting didn't deserve to see that. plus, he would have been insufferable with the know-it-alling. ]
I might die of boredom in this safehouse, though. They don't even have basic cable.
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[ because he knows there had been some finality in the words she'd said as she left. he'd heard it and that had just made things burn even more. but, she is alive so he drops it and reaches down with his free hand to pick something up. ]
Yes well, I brought something with me that you might like. [ checkers. remember checkers? ]
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[ she can't even pretend to hide the surprise in her voice, or the wide smile that brightens up her face. she's touched, really. and yes, she does remember when their situations were reversed, and she's pleased that he does too. even a little flustered by it, if the flush to her cheeks is any indication. ]
I didn't think you even remembered us playing.
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Do you want to play? Are you okay enough to do that? [ he peers over her and his eyes narrow a bit. ]
You're not running a fever, are you? [ the red cheeks and all. he's dumb, okay? ]
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[ she's being so nice, she's not even rubbing his sad loss in his face. invasions of the body snatchers?? who's to say. ]
But, yes, I obviously want to play. And no, I'm not sick. [ what's wrong with him? ] Why would I be sick?
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Your cheeks are red.
[ ...which could denote a fever? ]
I wasn't sure. [ does he know what a blush is? yes, because he's done it a few times himself. does he think she'd blush around him? magic eight ball says try back later. ]
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[ oh, god, now you've fucking done it. now she's aware that she's blushing, the back of her free hand pressing against her cheeks (warm to the touch, though her forehead's still cool), said flush only growing worse as she dips her head down. embarrassed as fuck. it's fine. it'll be fine.
somebody say something. free her from her misery. ]
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Do I need to get a doctor? [ her poor cheeks. they were so red. instinctively, he reaches over to touch the back of his fingers to her cheek, trying to gauge if she's running a fever all the sudden. ]
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as illya brushes the back of his hand over her skin, daisy's emotional state transfers over — it's muddled and unclear, thanks to her own internal panic, but there's plenty to choose from. embarrassment, front and center, but what feels suspiciously like happiness, too. not quite the same kind of happiness as might come from a gift, though. it's more personal, like seeing someone you've missed for a long time or finding that someone does care for you after feeling alone for quite a while. it's a mix of feelings, but if illya remembers being a boy at all, he might recognize the sensation of a first crush somewhere in there too. ]
You're... [ so dumb. so stupid. how does she feel like she's wearing a damn neon sign that says "hey loser, i kind of like you or something" and he has no idea what's happening? ] I don't have a fever, I promise.
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there is, of course, concern. concern for her well being and welfare, that she get better sooner rather than later. underneath there, she might be able to find relief. immense and immeasurable relief that she is still here with him today and that she can blush. and then, probably hardest to reach, would be a quiet fondness that he doesn't really understand. a brightness when she'd woken up and started talking, a sigh when she'd taken his hand.
but, she would have to look very hard. ]
I'm...? [ she's trailed off and he knows she had to have been thinking of something. he tilts his head and watches her, trying to figure out what he's felt from her. happiness that she chalks up to being all right. and something warmer than that that he cannot pinpoint. but it's warm and it's nice and he'd liked it. ]
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concern is obvious. so obvious that daisy dismisses it almost immediately, because it's come through from everyone who's brushed a hand over her skin in the last few days. doctors, friends, people who have stopped by just to gawk at her for whatever reason. it's understandable, and so not very interesting.
but there's something else much more intriguing threaded in between. relief, yes, the kind she felt when fitz had spluttered water after nearly drowning or when may had staggered back to them after a bad fight, alive but clinging to it. relief at someone important being okay, at the avoidance of loss after so many times of being stuck with it.
but beyond that, so well-hidden amongst everything else that daisy almost misses it, is something she doesn't expect. a gentleness that seems to mirror the flush in her cheeks, the delicate touch of her hand when it had wrapped around his own. it makes her think about feelings that lay well beyond the confines of wanting or friendship or easy benefit arrangements.
things that don't exist, basically. ]
And stubborn, [ she finally states, as if snapping herself out of her thoughts. ] And thankfully, a little clueless, which makes it really easy to beat you at checkers.
[ sorry. did he really think she wouldn't bring it up? ]
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Or ridiculous. [ he would give her stubborn though. he was very stubborn and he was proud of it. stubborn had kept him alive on many an occasion.
he blows out a breath and unfolds the checkers board, setting the pieces up with one hand because, despite what she might have felt (she didn't), he hasn't made to take his hand back from hers yet. ]
And you're not going to win. The first time was a fluke.
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[ thankfully, as his hand pulls away from her face and removes the emotional bond that came with his touch, daisy's cheeks start to lose their color, fading back to their normal shade. small miracles.
though, interestingly enough, he hasn't pulled his other hand away. it's still gently clutched in hers, and he's trying to set up the checkers pieces with just the other. it's neither practical nor efficient, but considering daisy doesn't exactly have anywhere else to be, she's willing to let him be a little silly if he wants. ]
Took you long enough. [ but it doesn't mean she won't rib him a little for it when all's finished. ] Are you planning on losing as black again today?
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[ you hadn't let go either, daisy. it takes two to tango and your fingers are still wrapped around his hand so there was a little ridiculousness on both sides. he finishes with the pieces and pushes the board closer to her so she doesn't have to strain to reach. ]
I'm going to be black and I'm not going to lose. Go.
[ he nods at the board. ] The injured one can take the first move.
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[ duh. don't you know anything about checkers, illya?
though it's probably a good thing that checkers isn't a two-handed sport, because daisy's steadfastly refused to let go. in fact, she's shifted in bed, clearing a little more space for him; her hand tugs on his until he's got no choice to come a little closer. the implication is clear: get in the bed. keep her company. let her cuddle. ]
What will you give me if I beat you again?
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he frowns, trying to make sure he understands what she's telling him before he gets to his feet. the hospital bed is far, far too small for this and his feet are going to just dangle off the side but...but okay.
it takes some work and he feels like he's going to fall off if she so much as breathes wrong but he eventually gets himself on the bed beside her, his side plastered to hers from shoulder to hip to leg. he has to let go of her hand so he can slip it around her shoulders before he finally settles into somewhat of a comfortable position
his legs do hang off the bed but the checkers board was un jostled. ]
What do you want?
[ since you'd already gotten him in bed. ]
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this won't do. she can hardly wriggle around, let alone lay comfortably — but kicking him out? so not an option. instead, daisy shifts into him, allowing more and more of her body to lean atop his own; by the time she's satisfied, he's been able to shift more into the center of the bed, and her head rests snugly on his chest, her hair splayed out around it. very cozy.
she cannot reach the board from here, because her arms are not that long (and also because they are very comfortably resting too), but she can always dictate her moves and make him do the work. if they ever actually start the game. as for his question? well. that takes some careful thought. ]
I don't know. [ or not. ] I like spending time with you.
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he doesn't know where to put his hands so they end up resting at his sides for the time being. ]
You do? [ he can't help being surprised. that sort of thing, it just doesn't happen to him. so, he's surprised. but underneath that, maybe there's a sliver of pleasure. of want of the same thing? he doesn't even know what he's feeling. ]
So, what do you want if you win? [ if not when. but, to soften that blow to her ego about her future checkers victory, he does pick up one of his hands to slide it around the curve of her shoulders, idly moving his fingers back and forth. ]
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plus, some little voice in the back of her head adds, he's good at other things too. but she's not thinking about those things right now. ]
Something nice. [ without much thought behind it, the hand that's currently splayed out against his chest lifts; her fingertips trail weaving patterns that seem to mirror the ones he's tracing on her back. ] Connor and Fitz went to space.
[ she doesn't necessarily want to go to space. ]
Could we go somewhere?
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