his eyes slip closed when she puts a hand on his face. it's a touch he's felt many times before today, at morning, at night, half asleep and wide awake. it feels different this time for some reason. it feels...like something else. he bows his head and lets the touch sink into him.
but then she speaks. russian. the russian words he'd just said to her, that he said to her before once while they sat on his couch are the words that she says to him while they're curled together on his bed, while he tries to push his anger down and she tries to convince him of the impossible.
illya sighs and rubs his cheek against her hand, letting his eyes finally open so he can see her. ]
Your Russian is terrible.
[ he tries to keep a straight face but it becomes impossible after a few seconds and despite the anger still coiling his muscles tight, he laughs, a noise he stifles a moment later. ]
[ she likes the way he laughs. it doesn't happen often enough, but when it does, it's bright and warm and unrestrained, a hint at the warmth that lingers beneath all those layers of stoicism and selflessness. when he laughs, she can't help but smile back, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she shakes her head.
they linger in that warmth for a while, just quiet and comfortable. it's almost serene. eventually, though, daisy breaks the silence again; this time, her voice is still soft, but a little more serious, the teasing tone dropped away. ]
I do, you know. And not just because you said it first. [ she would have liked to have done that! thanks! but she wasn't ready yet and you surprised her so now he said it first and she'll have to suffer that for a while. ] So don't tell yourself you're not enough, because you're enough for me.
It is not...that easy. [ to just completely change his way of thinking. he believes her, though. if there's anything he believes right now, it's that she loves him and she thinks he's enough. but, he still can't think that about himself.
it's a lifted weight to have finally talked a little about his past with someone but it doesn't mean he feels...better. it doesn't mean that the anger's gone, that he can just walk away when someone so much as breathes near the bundle of memories that are his past. ]
I believe you. [ lest she thinks he needs reassurances about what she's told him, what she's confessed. he believes that. ]
But I don't — [ think that way about himself. he can't. doesn't know how. ]
[ speaking about your demons just makes them real. letting another person in, exposing those painful parts that normally get hidden under the front you show other people; daisy knows how difficult it can be, but more importantly, she knows it's just one step. a step in a marathon that lasts a lifetime, a choice to let go of the memories that only bring pain and to focus on making new ones.
she knows he won't wake up tomorrow a new man. she knows saying these things just once won't cure him. but it's a start. it's something. ]
We'll figure it out. When you feel... overwhelmed, when it's too much, I'm right here. You don't have to bottle it all up and keep it to yourself. [ her thumb brushes over his cheekbone, dips to the corner of his mouth where the scruff's grown in a little more ] But I am sorry some jackass said shitty things to you, for what it's worth.
I...don't know if that is a good idea. [ letting it out, he means. keeping it to himself means the anger eats at him but he is the only one who suffers unless there an explosion like tonight.
usually, he can at least temper it to something a little less violent but not always. not tonight. ]
Keeping it to myself means no one else is affected. [ and the last person he wants to explode at is her. not because she can't take it but because the guilt would wrack him in the aftermath. ]
I can handle it. [ stubborn. stern. determined. he could contain this anger. he just had to try harder. ]
Not forever, you can't. [ as evidenced by the reason he'd messaged her in the first place. ] Nobody can.
[ it's like he's trying to prove he doesn't need her help. that he can handle this all on his own. and maybe day-to-day, in between assignments and missions and problems that required all his attention and laser-tight focus, he could. when his life was a series of commands, it might have been easier to ignore the web of tangled emotions that lay just below simple obedience.
but things weren't that simple here. he had choices, freedom — he had a life of complicated morality, being part of a community of people who couldn't (for one reason or another) be totally honest about where they came from, being displaced in a time that didn't feel like home for him. it wasn't as easy as losing himself in his job here. that escape wouldn't work.
she realizes with a little sadness that he may never have had anything else. that she might have to show him, piece by piece, what his options were. ]
It doesn't make you a failure to need help with this. [ a huff of air earns a pause. ] If I was upset about something, would you want me to keep it to myself, or would you want me to feel like I could tell you about it?
That isn't the same. [ obviously, he would want to know if she was upset or angry or dealing with something that she was having a difficult time handling. but, whereas he did feel like he could tell her about it, he doesn't know if he should.
not because he wants to keep it a secret but because he worries about the ramifications if things spiral. it's something he would fight against tooth and nail but he knows that it could happen. he'd sat across from solo and listened to the man rattle off details of his life and he'd have killed him if he'd been given the time. ]
Feeling like I could tell you about it is one thing. I do feel like that. [ now. ]
But I don't know how that helps me. Talking doesn't take it away. I'm still feeling it right now. [ though there has been some calming. apparently three specific words could be a nice balm for some of the rage. ]
And what if I couldn't talk about it? What if I needed to work through it, deal with the way it made me feel? Would you want me to come to you, or would you want me to suck it up and deal with it on my own?
[ she's tried to get him to do this before. to spar with her, to release some of that tension. to let things out in a safe space with someone who can take it. someone who won't take that anger personally if it's let out.
but he hasn't done it yet. not really. he's always held that part of himself back, always put up a wall out of fear or concern or — love, she guesses. that he'd loved her and hadn't wanted to hurt her.
but this? shutting down, refusing to admit something was wrong or address it, just letting that anger and rage and pain fester until it exploded out of him? that hurt more than any punch in the ring ever could. ]
After everything that happened with my parents, I couldn't talk to anybody. Not even just shrinks — my friends, people I considered my family. I was ashamed, I was angry, I was miserable and hurting and lonely. And I just... I ran away. I thought if I held everything in and poured it out into my work, I could deal with it. And I really tried, I did. [ but. ] It doesn't work that way, though. Being alone doesn't fix your problems. It just makes you lonely.
I would want you to come to me. [ of course he'd want that. even if he wasn't exceptionally good at comfort, he could still hold her or let her sit against him while they watched something mindless on television. he could let her fall asleep on him or he could run her a bath (or a shower, whatever this place would allow) and let her relax out from underneath the glare of lights from outside. ]
I don't want to hurt anyone. [ you. ] I don't want to frighten anyone. [ you. ]
I know what I can do and how I can be when things get mad. And I have yet to figure out a way to do anything with that feeling when it happens but excuse myself and be alone until it goes away.
[ but it doesn't go away. it quiets but it's still there, ready to roar again whenever the next incident happened. ]
[ it goes!!! both ways!!! why is he the most stubborn man on the planet??? ]
You're not going to hurt me or frighten me or scare me away or make me change my mind. You couldn't. I love you. [ there. in english, plain and simple, fierce and unyielding even in the face of his dismissals. ] This is literally what I do, Illya, you know this. I help people figure out their abilities and how to control them, and I can help you, but you have to let me do it.
[ she doesn't expect him to come to classes and feel insecure or uncertain in front of others. he's not that kind of person, and a group class wouldn't give him the support he needs. ]
Shutting me out and being alone isn't helping. You don't have anything to lose by trying.
[ i love you. three words, eight letters but with a power that he can't even deny. it makes him stop breathing for the barest of seconds, makes him blink a little quicker and makes his heart thump so loud he swears she has to be able to hear it. when, he wonders, was the last time he heard that seriously before today? two decades maybe before his family had fallen apart.
he can't remember. he doesn't even remember how his mother's voice sounded when she said those words.
but he wouldn't forget this. ]
Not in a class.
[ he could not do that. there was nothing wrong with those that felt comfortable working on their abilities in a public space but he doesn't. not this power. ]
I am not trying to shut you out. [ he's trying...to protect her. and she's telling him she doesn't need it and it's an irresistible object meeting the immovable force. ] I wanted to keep that side of me away from you.
[ the anger, the violence, the darkness, the aggression. ] I don't want you to see it.
I didn't mean in a class. [ was that not obvious? ] Just you and me.
[ the way they do everything. together. in private. the world doesn't need to know, they don't need to explain, they just are. she'd never expected him to want to share something like this with other people. ]
But you don't have to hide that from me, you know. [ it's not exactly a secret, first of all. but more importantly: ] I mean it. There's nothing you can do or say that's going to make me change my mind. I promise, I'm way more stubborn than you are.
[ he says it quietly but not resignedly. he doesn't feel like he's giving up or giving in. he just feels like he's failed at helping himself so maybe she'll be able to see something that he hasn't. the worst thing that could occur is that he's right back here, feeling anger pulse through him with no outlet. ]
I'm still not...certain how you plan on teaching this sort of thing but you can try. [ she could try and he would do his best to follow through on anything she asked of him but he was wary. control wasn't a trainable thing for most. the kgb used it as an extra motivator, getting him riled up and sending him into the field because it was beneficial to them. ]
I'm not afraid of you changing your mind. [ except... ] All right, I am. It is nothing against you. I don't think you are that type of person but I know what type of person I am.
[ it's not a mystery. she's spent how many days in how many weeks in how many months getting to know him, learning about him, unearthing parts of his life bit by bit. he doesn't need to tell her about what he's done — she's seen it.
she's seen it in the way his hands had so expertly snapped the neck of that soldier, an image seared into her memory by fear and panic (and a little awe, though she hasn't yet admitted that to herself). she's seen it in the way he doesn't quite know how to relax, as if always waiting for the next order, the next disaster to strike and require a response. she's seen it in the way he asks for permission before touching her sometimes, as if expecting her to change her mind.
but she hasn't, and she won't. ]
You're a giant pain in the ass sometimes. You're headstrong and stubborn and impossibly certain of things even when you're wrong. You're unbearably chivalrous sometimes, stoic and serious and — honestly, I've never met anybody who's ever infuriated me the way you do sometimes.
[ but, and it's an important distinction, a clarification she hopes he hears. ]
But you're also kind, and generous, and loyal — and you care, you care so much. You're endlessly careful with me even when I drive you up the wall, and I know I do, you don't have to tell me I don't. Because I'm not any easier to like, Illya. I know I'm not. I boss you around and get mad about nothing and I don't always know how to hold my tongue or back down from a fight — but you... you never left. You've been my constant.
[ she smiles, then, soft and sincere and gentle. ]
I've never had a place I called home before this. But this? Being here with you — it feels like it could be.
You see me...so much better than anyone else has ever seen me. [ and he marvels at that. how she can look so different to one person in comparison to every other person on his life. how they can look at him and want to leave and she can look at him and tell him in the bluntest of terms that she's going nowhere and that's all there was to it.
he swallows and reaches down to curl his fingers around her hand. this might be the longest conversation they've had without it becoming physical since meeting. there was nothing wrong with that either (he quite enjoyed the physical aspect of their relationship) but this was probably needed.
overdue. a way to finally clear the air on certain questions and create more for them to answer in the future. ]
I won't leave. [ now he was the one making promises that he knows he might not be able to keep. he cannot control this place and its whims but he has a choice. for once, he has a choice and he is not going to leave. ]
I'm here. [ he'd used those words before, he realizes. when this whole thing between them had been starting to build into something more intense, something deeper. ]
You frustrate me almost on a daily basis but even if I was angry with you that I could not even think, I won't leave. Maybe I would go for a walk but I would come back. And I would make sure you were all right. And that you knew I was there.
[ that would be his goal. if she wasn't here with him, he would make sure she knew that he was still here. thinking about her while being all right and in one piece. he would make sure that peace of mind was always there. ]
Well, it probably helps that you're not terrible to look at. [ a tease as her hand adjusts, fingers threading through his and squeezing gently, resting the twined palms against his chest.
the lightness fades — not in her eyes or her expression, but in the tone of their conversation — as he says those words again. i'm here, right here, right now. they didn't have much, but their relationship, who they were to each other — it had proven an anchor in a place that capsized anything either of them knew, and each time he said those words, daisy felt it burrow just that much deeper in her heart.
it wasn't the apartment or the key or the drawer he cleared out for her that won her over. it wasn't a toothbrush on the counter or a space made on the bed. it was his presence, his constant presence even in the worst moments, that pulled her in.
he'd saved her life, but more importantly, he'd given her something to have a life for. something beyond a job or a responsibility, something that was purely for her. ]
I believe that is a compliment so thank you. [ not terrible to look at was more than he'd heard from almost anyone else in the past few years of his life. he cares about his appearance in that he has to look put together for work and it is a routine for him now.
although some of that routine has been changed with his arrival here. he can't even remember the last time he'd had facial hair this long. it was still unfamiliar to make choices just for himself. ]
Oh, I know you will frustrate me. And you will make me angry. But, I do not care. I'll still be here. There are many things I struggle with here, in this city and with the new path my life has taken but that is not one of them.
Maybe I cannot make other choices very well but I've made this one. This is what I want. [ the plainest, bluntest way he's ever said that, he thinks. he remembers how persistent she'd been with trying to get what he wanted out of him in the past but maybe a switch has been flipped or maybe he is just more comfortable admitting something like this to her now. ]
All of it. [ whatever happens. the good and the bad. ] I want that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
his eyes slip closed when she puts a hand on his face. it's a touch he's felt many times before today, at morning, at night, half asleep and wide awake. it feels different this time for some reason. it feels...like something else. he bows his head and lets the touch sink into him.
but then she speaks. russian. the russian words he'd just said to her, that he said to her before once while they sat on his couch are the words that she says to him while they're curled together on his bed, while he tries to push his anger down and she tries to convince him of the impossible.
illya sighs and rubs his cheek against her hand, letting his eyes finally open so he can see her. ]
Your Russian is terrible.
[ he tries to keep a straight face but it becomes impossible after a few seconds and despite the anger still coiling his muscles tight, he laughs, a noise he stifles a moment later. ]
Very bad.
no subject
[ she likes the way he laughs. it doesn't happen often enough, but when it does, it's bright and warm and unrestrained, a hint at the warmth that lingers beneath all those layers of stoicism and selflessness. when he laughs, she can't help but smile back, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she shakes her head.
they linger in that warmth for a while, just quiet and comfortable. it's almost serene. eventually, though, daisy breaks the silence again; this time, her voice is still soft, but a little more serious, the teasing tone dropped away. ]
I do, you know. And not just because you said it first. [ she would have liked to have done that! thanks! but she wasn't ready yet and you surprised her so now he said it first and she'll have to suffer that for a while. ] So don't tell yourself you're not enough, because you're enough for me.
[ and that's final, deal with it dot gif ]
no subject
it's a lifted weight to have finally talked a little about his past with someone but it doesn't mean he feels...better. it doesn't mean that the anger's gone, that he can just walk away when someone so much as breathes near the bundle of memories that are his past. ]
I believe you. [ lest she thinks he needs reassurances about what she's told him, what she's confessed. he believes that. ]
But I don't — [ think that way about himself. he can't. doesn't know how. ]
no subject
[ speaking about your demons just makes them real. letting another person in, exposing those painful parts that normally get hidden under the front you show other people; daisy knows how difficult it can be, but more importantly, she knows it's just one step. a step in a marathon that lasts a lifetime, a choice to let go of the memories that only bring pain and to focus on making new ones.
she knows he won't wake up tomorrow a new man. she knows saying these things just once won't cure him. but it's a start. it's something. ]
We'll figure it out. When you feel... overwhelmed, when it's too much, I'm right here. You don't have to bottle it all up and keep it to yourself. [ her thumb brushes over his cheekbone, dips to the corner of his mouth where the scruff's grown in a little more ] But I am sorry some jackass said shitty things to you, for what it's worth.
no subject
usually, he can at least temper it to something a little less violent but not always. not tonight. ]
Keeping it to myself means no one else is affected. [ and the last person he wants to explode at is her. not because she can't take it but because the guilt would wrack him in the aftermath. ]
I can handle it. [ stubborn. stern. determined. he could contain this anger. he just had to try harder. ]
no subject
[ it's like he's trying to prove he doesn't need her help. that he can handle this all on his own. and maybe day-to-day, in between assignments and missions and problems that required all his attention and laser-tight focus, he could. when his life was a series of commands, it might have been easier to ignore the web of tangled emotions that lay just below simple obedience.
but things weren't that simple here. he had choices, freedom — he had a life of complicated morality, being part of a community of people who couldn't (for one reason or another) be totally honest about where they came from, being displaced in a time that didn't feel like home for him. it wasn't as easy as losing himself in his job here. that escape wouldn't work.
she realizes with a little sadness that he may never have had anything else. that she might have to show him, piece by piece, what his options were. ]
It doesn't make you a failure to need help with this. [ a huff of air earns a pause. ] If I was upset about something, would you want me to keep it to myself, or would you want me to feel like I could tell you about it?
no subject
not because he wants to keep it a secret but because he worries about the ramifications if things spiral. it's something he would fight against tooth and nail but he knows that it could happen. he'd sat across from solo and listened to the man rattle off details of his life and he'd have killed him if he'd been given the time. ]
Feeling like I could tell you about it is one thing. I do feel like that. [ now. ]
But I don't know how that helps me. Talking doesn't take it away. I'm still feeling it right now. [ though there has been some calming. apparently three specific words could be a nice balm for some of the rage. ]
no subject
[ she's tried to get him to do this before. to spar with her, to release some of that tension. to let things out in a safe space with someone who can take it. someone who won't take that anger personally if it's let out.
but he hasn't done it yet. not really. he's always held that part of himself back, always put up a wall out of fear or concern or — love, she guesses. that he'd loved her and hadn't wanted to hurt her.
but this? shutting down, refusing to admit something was wrong or address it, just letting that anger and rage and pain fester until it exploded out of him? that hurt more than any punch in the ring ever could. ]
After everything that happened with my parents, I couldn't talk to anybody. Not even just shrinks — my friends, people I considered my family. I was ashamed, I was angry, I was miserable and hurting and lonely. And I just... I ran away. I thought if I held everything in and poured it out into my work, I could deal with it. And I really tried, I did. [ but. ] It doesn't work that way, though. Being alone doesn't fix your problems. It just makes you lonely.
no subject
I don't want to hurt anyone. [ you. ] I don't want to frighten anyone. [ you. ]
I know what I can do and how I can be when things get mad. And I have yet to figure out a way to do anything with that feeling when it happens but excuse myself and be alone until it goes away.
[ but it doesn't go away. it quiets but it's still there, ready to roar again whenever the next incident happened. ]
no subject
[ it goes!!! both ways!!! why is he the most stubborn man on the planet??? ]
You're not going to hurt me or frighten me or scare me away or make me change my mind. You couldn't. I love you. [ there. in english, plain and simple, fierce and unyielding even in the face of his dismissals. ] This is literally what I do, Illya, you know this. I help people figure out their abilities and how to control them, and I can help you, but you have to let me do it.
[ she doesn't expect him to come to classes and feel insecure or uncertain in front of others. he's not that kind of person, and a group class wouldn't give him the support he needs. ]
Shutting me out and being alone isn't helping. You don't have anything to lose by trying.
no subject
he can't remember. he doesn't even remember how his mother's voice sounded when she said those words.
but he wouldn't forget this. ]
Not in a class.
[ he could not do that. there was nothing wrong with those that felt comfortable working on their abilities in a public space but he doesn't. not this power. ]
I am not trying to shut you out. [ he's trying...to protect her. and she's telling him she doesn't need it and it's an irresistible object meeting the immovable force. ] I wanted to keep that side of me away from you.
[ the anger, the violence, the darkness, the aggression. ] I don't want you to see it.
no subject
[ the way they do everything. together. in private. the world doesn't need to know, they don't need to explain, they just are. she'd never expected him to want to share something like this with other people. ]
But you don't have to hide that from me, you know. [ it's not exactly a secret, first of all. but more importantly: ] I mean it. There's nothing you can do or say that's going to make me change my mind. I promise, I'm way more stubborn than you are.
no subject
[ he says it quietly but not resignedly. he doesn't feel like he's giving up or giving in. he just feels like he's failed at helping himself so maybe she'll be able to see something that he hasn't. the worst thing that could occur is that he's right back here, feeling anger pulse through him with no outlet. ]
I'm still not...certain how you plan on teaching this sort of thing but you can try. [ she could try and he would do his best to follow through on anything she asked of him but he was wary. control wasn't a trainable thing for most. the kgb used it as an extra motivator, getting him riled up and sending him into the field because it was beneficial to them. ]
I'm not afraid of you changing your mind. [ except... ] All right, I am. It is nothing against you. I don't think you are that type of person but I know what type of person I am.
[ not an easy person at all. ]
I worry.
no subject
[ it's not a mystery. she's spent how many days in how many weeks in how many months getting to know him, learning about him, unearthing parts of his life bit by bit. he doesn't need to tell her about what he's done — she's seen it.
she's seen it in the way his hands had so expertly snapped the neck of that soldier, an image seared into her memory by fear and panic (and a little awe, though she hasn't yet admitted that to herself). she's seen it in the way he doesn't quite know how to relax, as if always waiting for the next order, the next disaster to strike and require a response. she's seen it in the way he asks for permission before touching her sometimes, as if expecting her to change her mind.
but she hasn't, and she won't. ]
You're a giant pain in the ass sometimes. You're headstrong and stubborn and impossibly certain of things even when you're wrong. You're unbearably chivalrous sometimes, stoic and serious and — honestly, I've never met anybody who's ever infuriated me the way you do sometimes.
[ but, and it's an important distinction, a clarification she hopes he hears. ]
But you're also kind, and generous, and loyal — and you care, you care so much. You're endlessly careful with me even when I drive you up the wall, and I know I do, you don't have to tell me I don't. Because I'm not any easier to like, Illya. I know I'm not. I boss you around and get mad about nothing and I don't always know how to hold my tongue or back down from a fight — but you... you never left. You've been my constant.
[ she smiles, then, soft and sincere and gentle. ]
I've never had a place I called home before this. But this? Being here with you — it feels like it could be.
no subject
he swallows and reaches down to curl his fingers around her hand. this might be the longest conversation they've had without it becoming physical since meeting. there was nothing wrong with that either (he quite enjoyed the physical aspect of their relationship) but this was probably needed.
overdue. a way to finally clear the air on certain questions and create more for them to answer in the future. ]
I won't leave. [ now he was the one making promises that he knows he might not be able to keep. he cannot control this place and its whims but he has a choice. for once, he has a choice and he is not going to leave. ]
I'm here. [ he'd used those words before, he realizes. when this whole thing between them had been starting to build into something more intense, something deeper. ]
You frustrate me almost on a daily basis but even if I was angry with you that I could not even think, I won't leave. Maybe I would go for a walk but I would come back. And I would make sure you were all right. And that you knew I was there.
[ that would be his goal. if she wasn't here with him, he would make sure she knew that he was still here. thinking about her while being all right and in one piece. he would make sure that peace of mind was always there. ]
no subject
the lightness fades — not in her eyes or her expression, but in the tone of their conversation — as he says those words again. i'm here, right here, right now. they didn't have much, but their relationship, who they were to each other — it had proven an anchor in a place that capsized anything either of them knew, and each time he said those words, daisy felt it burrow just that much deeper in her heart.
it wasn't the apartment or the key or the drawer he cleared out for her that won her over. it wasn't a toothbrush on the counter or a space made on the bed. it was his presence, his constant presence even in the worst moments, that pulled her in.
he'd saved her life, but more importantly, he'd given her something to have a life for. something beyond a job or a responsibility, something that was purely for her. ]
I can't promise I won't frustrate you, though.
no subject
although some of that routine has been changed with his arrival here. he can't even remember the last time he'd had facial hair this long. it was still unfamiliar to make choices just for himself. ]
Oh, I know you will frustrate me. And you will make me angry. But, I do not care. I'll still be here. There are many things I struggle with here, in this city and with the new path my life has taken but that is not one of them.
Maybe I cannot make other choices very well but I've made this one. This is what I want. [ the plainest, bluntest way he's ever said that, he thinks. he remembers how persistent she'd been with trying to get what he wanted out of him in the past but maybe a switch has been flipped or maybe he is just more comfortable admitting something like this to her now. ]
All of it. [ whatever happens. the good and the bad. ] I want that.