Chapter Text
Villanelle and Eve have a cat named Elton. He is a big pile of black and white fluff who enjoys laying directly in the center of the kitchen floor where the warm sunlight filters in through the skylight. No matter how many times Elton nearly gets stepped on, or how many other much more comfortable sunbathing spots the large house offers, he refuses to budge once he’s settled in.
Eve returns home from a long day of work expecting to find Elton sleeping in his usual place, but the floor appears to be free of tripping hazards for the moment. She sets her purse down on the kitchen counter next to their ceramic salt and pepper shakers that look like little sharks. Villanelle had picked them out during their last trip to the coast. She found them in a small boutique across from her favorite ice cream parlor that serves specialty flavors like cannoli and key lime pie. Eve smiles fondly as she remembers the little jump and squeal of delight that Villanelle had done once she saw them through the window.
“Sharks are seriously misunderstood, Eve! Sure, they kill people and whatever, but they are only doing what they have to do to survive. Besides, they are the ones that live in the oceans! Humans just pollute and infest their homes. I would kill them too if I were a shark.”
Villanelle had flashed Eve a mischievous smile before tipping her head back with laughter. That beautiful sound is like music to Eve’s ears no matter how many times she hears it.
“ Shark was also the ridiculous last name you tried to use to get us past the second floor at the casino. Do you remember, Mrs. Tallulah Shark?”
“Of course I remember, Cher Horowitz.”
They had both laughed then, feeling happy and carefree, and the little shark figurines got to come home with them. Eve runs her fingertip affectionately along one’s dorsal fin before the delicious smell of roasting meat catches her attention. She opens the oven door just a crack, releasing a flood of steam and a blast of the wonderful aroma of beef, onions, and potatoes. Her mouth waters as she breathes in the heavenly scent, reluctantly closing the door to let their dinner finish cooking.
“V, I’m home! Dinner smells great!”
Eve turns to the refrigerator and fishes out their half finished bottle of wine from the night before. She had a hard day at work between her students acting unruly despite their college age and the head of her department being a dickswab even more so than usual, so she’s been looking forward to a drink all day. However, there’s something she’s been looking forward to much more, or rather, someone.
“Babe, do you want some wine?” When there is no answer, Eve takes her glass and sets off in search of the one face she has been longing to see. There’s something about those cat like hazel eyes that always manage to calm Eve’s nerves yet excite her all at the same time. “Work was shit, I want to tell you about it!”
Eve sips her wine as she walks from the kitchen, through the living room, and towards the stairs. She runs her fingers over the stacks upon stacks of books, written in every language known to man, that are piled high on the shelves. She pauses in front of their old, worn and well loved record player and selects Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits from the copious amount of records to choose from. Eve dials the volume low and hums along as she sets off up the stairs.
The light blue walls of the stairwell are essentially a documentary of the couple’s adventures together. Smiling faces under the Eiffel tower, standing on the Great Wall, and in front of the pyramids are preserved forever behind glass, just to name a few.
Eve lingers next to her favorite for a moment. It's a candid photo of Villanelle sunbathing on the beach in Greece. Her lover had looked positively radiant in her white bikini, lounging beside bright blue waters. The view had been spectacular, and not just of the beach, so Eve couldn’t help but capture the image.
That day had been perfect. Villanelle had packed a little picnic of salted meats and cheeses with wine and fruit. They spent the whole time eating, talking, and splashing around in the crystal clear sea. Villanelle had even dragged Eve under the small waves with a particularly enthusiastic pounce at one point, but Eve couldn’t stay mad at her partner because she looked so damn beautiful with droplets of water sparkling on her cheeks and a wide smile on her pink lips.
That tiny alcove of private beach had become their own little world. Then again, everywhere they go feels like that as long as they’re together.
Eve remembers putting sun lotion on her lover’s back that afternoon. The dozens of scars left from the shards of glass that had dug their way into Villanelle’s beautiful flesh were still raised and angry then, not dull little lines like they are now, seven years since Greece and a full ten since incurring them. Eve had taken her time to kiss every single one before applying the lotion. She still does, kissing each scar every night when they are alone and professing their love for one another. It’s become a sort of ritual for Villanelle and Eve. The scars are a symbol of victory and protection, a visualization of just how far they’ll go for each other.
That was the same day that Carolyn had called them with the good news. Eve answered her burner phone despite Villanelle begging her to just let it ring so they could continue uninterrupted, but Eve’s gut was telling her it was important. And her gut was right, as per usual.
“Well, that’s it then. Officially, The Twelve no longer exist.”
“What do you mean by officially?” Carolyn had said it so calmly, so matter of fact, but Eve had been confused by her former boss’s word choice.
“It took three years, but one through twelve have been officially eliminated. Unofficially and undoubtedly, with time, little factions will pop up from the scraps that remain to form some new monstrous entity, but for now I am satisfied knowing that there is no one left alive who dealt a hand in the fates of our loved ones.”
“I’ve never known you to be satisfied, Carolyn.” Eve replied with a soft chuckle, prompting a snort of amusement from Carolyn as well.
“You’re quite right about that Eve, but, for now, this will do.”
“Okay, well good luck with whatever comes next I guess.”
“You know Eve, you could still be involved in what comes next if you want. I know we don’t always see eye to eye on things but I promise that you will never be bored. And you’ve proven yourself to have quite the diverse skill set.”
Eve had smiled as she trailed her eyes over the beautiful blonde lounging next to her. The sun was cast over her golden skin in such a way as to make it glow, and her long hair fell over her shoulders in enchanting waves. “I don’t think boredom will be a problem.” Villanelle smirked knowingly as she caught Eve’s gaze..
“Alright then, give Villanelle my best. Or is she going by her new name these days? I did think it was a rather fitting choice when she requested it for the new papers. Well, either way, I hope you two enjoy the Mediterranean. I do love their olive tapenade. You simply can not go to Greece without eating barrels of it.” And just like that, the line went silent.
It was over.
Eve had expected to feel more of a weight lifting off her shoulders, but as she soaked in the information and the late afternoon sun, she realized that the weight had been gone for quite some time already. She had left it at the hospital, or perhaps even earlier. Looking back, Eve determined that as soon as she said yes to meeting Villanelle at that stupid karaoke bar she had never felt lighter, safer, or more sure of herself despite all of the danger.
The memory puts an extra spring in her step as Eve dashes up the last of the stairs, eager to finally see her lover. “V? Where are you?”
“In the office, I can’t move though so you’ll have to come to me.”
The strange response brings Eve momentary pause, but after ten years she’s gotten fairly used to Villanelle’s odd comments and requests, so she simply shrugs and continues to the end of the hall.
The door to the office that the two women share is cracked open just an inch, letting Eve peer into the large room. Pale green paint meets a massive arched window that takes up the majority of the back wall. Matching desks made of birch wood are placed so that they look through the window and out to their small garden with its ripening tomatoes and slowly growing zucchinis, and then to the expansive Canadian wilderness beyond.
With a view like that this property should have been wildly expensive, but they got it for a steal. A dead body was found a long time ago on the grounds which scared off a lot of potential buyers. Honestly, that’s partially why they fell in love with the plot and chose to build here in the first place. It also helps that they have no neighbors for several acres in every direction and there is a train station that goes directly into Toronto only a twenty minutes drive away. Their home is secluded and private, yet close to city life. The perfect combination for a retired assassin and former MI6 agent.
The office is one of Eve’s favorite rooms in the house because of the view, as well as the countless hours that the couple spends in here together. It’s not uncommon for an entire day to pass with Eve researching whatever has caught her fancy at the moment or grading papers while Villanelle reads, sprawled out across the worn leather sofa like a starfish.
Eve gently toes the door open, not wanting to disturb whatever curious thing is keeping Villanelle from moving. Her heart melts when she sees the situation before her. “Really? This is why you couldn’t come kiss me hello?”
Eve smiles fondly at the two creatures before her but shakes her head in mock disapproval. Villanelle is sitting in the large armchair in the corner of the room with her long legs dangling over the side. There’s a book in her hand and several others scattered on the floor around her. In her lap, audibly snoring and looking as happy as a clam, is Sir Elton John the cat.
“What do you expect me to do, Eve? He is sleeping. And look at his little face, so precious!”
Eve just shakes her head again but can’t keep from smiling even wider. “Remember when you said, and I quote, ‘that mangy thing is never coming in our house!’ not even a year ago when he showed up at our back door?”
“Hmmm, no. I do not recall that.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“Besides Eve, you know he tricked his way in. He is manipulative. Takes after his mother like that.”
“Oh yeah, and which mother would you be referring to?”
“Both of us.”
The two women laugh at that and Eve sets her wine glass down on her desk. Elton wakes from the noise and stretches dramatically before jumping to the floor and trotting out of the room.
“He was just keeping your spot warm for you anyway.” Villanelle grins and gestures to her lap before swinging her legs around so that she is sitting up right with her feet on the floor. The book she was holding falls to join the others littered on the rug.
Eve kicks the pile lightly as she moves closer to her partner and raises an eyebrow. “Did you get through all of these today?”
“No, I only read the first few chapters of each before getting bored. How can I be expected to translate when the words are just so boring!” Eve can only smile as Villanelle lifts her arm in exasperation. “I’m going to send them back. They know that I only translate good books, yet all they’ve sent me is garbage lately!”
“Remind me again why they don’t just fire you?”
“Because I am amazing, obviously. Who else can translate something into 10 languages as quickly and accurately as me?”
“No one.” Eve admits almost begrudgingly.
“Exactly. Besides, I really do enjoy translating when the material is good. I’m just so sick of stories about white men.”
“Tell me about it.” Eve says with a laugh and roll of her eyes as she straddles Villanelles lap, letting her knees sink into the fabric so that the rest of her body is flush with her lover’s. She wraps her arms around Villanelle’s neck and gently scratches the place where her hair meets soft skin. “I guess you are pretty amazing.”
“너도 내 사랑이야” (And so are you, my love). Hearing Villanelle talk in Eve’s familial tongue always sends shivers down her spine. At least it does once she gets past the initial spark of annoyance that Villanelle took to the Korean language so quickly. Should Eve have really expected any different though? Especially considering the many months they spent there while she was still recovering from her gunshot wound.
The whole time Eve had been fascinated by how quickly Villanelle’s mind worked. She had watched in awe as Villanelle ordered street-food for them in broken Korean after only a few weeks, then nearly fluently at the end of their six month stay. Though painful from recovery, those months had been some of the best of Eve’s life. They were full of firsts for the couple. First real date, first concert, first real argument, first time getting to just be together without the threat of imminent death looming over their heads.
Their time in South Korea proved to Eve, not that she really needed any convincing but nonetheless, that she and Villanelle could work as a couple in a setting that didn’t involve violence and danger. It proved that their own version of normal really works for them and that everything they had been fighting for was worth it 1 million times over. Eve cherishes that time together, just like she cherishes every single minute since The Bridge Bar.
It was a hellish journey but it’s brought them heaven.
With the tingle of memories on her tongue, Eve brings her lips to Villanelle’s in a languid yet passionate kiss. She leans into the embrace and moans softly at the feeling of Villanelle’s long fingers running through her messy hair. Her own hands wander down to her lover’s hips, greedily pulling her even closer.
“나에 대해 또 뭘 좋아하는지 말해줘.” (Tell me what else you like about me, since I am so amazing.) Villanelle whispers as she trails open mouth kisses down the expanse of Eve’s neck.
“Everything.”
It’s true. Villanelle can be rude and bratty. She’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission and she uses sarcasm as an acceptable response to every single scenario. She’s also thoughtful and unwaveringly loyal. She’s fiercely protective and she would go to the ends of the earth simply if Eve asked her to. She’s stronger than anyone Eve has ever met yet softer in some ways too, not than anyone else will ever get the honor of seeing that side of her. Villanelle is so many things and Eve loves every piece of her puzzle equally.
“I love everything about you.” Eve whispers it like a prayer. “Everything.”
Villanelle buries her face in the crook of Eve’s neck and simply holds Eve close. She breathes in the floral scent of her lover’s shampoo mixed with the intoxicating aroma of La Villanelle perfume. To Villanelle, it is now the smell of comfort and acceptance. It means that she’s home.
“Even after all this time?”
“Of course.” Eve can’t help a little snort of laughter. “I thought if anything you would be the one to get sick of me first.”
Villanelle pops her head up and grins mischievously with a flash of white teeth. “The only thing I am sick of is you stealing the blankets in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t do that!”
“Then why do I wake up at 2am shivering like some poor orphan with not even a scrap of blanket?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s because you toss and turn approximately 100 times and throw the blankets all over the place!”
“No I don’t!!” Villanelle pouts and leans back against the armchair as she folds her arms over her chest. Eve knows she shouldn’t, but she thinks Villanelle’s pouting is adorable. Not that she would ever admit it out loud.
Just as Eve’s about to goad Villanelle even further, they hear the oven ding from downstairs. Villanelle’s face lights up and she returns her hands to Eve’s hips. “Dinner is ready!”
With no effort at all, Villanelle stands while holding Eve as if the older woman weighs next to nothing. The years have changed many things, but Villanelle’s physical prowess is not one of them. She was never a huge fan of exercising strictly. She really only did it as a necessity or to clear her head; hunting down targets was really always what she had considered fun fitness. But with that part of her life long behind her, Villanelle currently enjoys teaching women how to beat the shit out of any scumbag who dares to touch them. It keeps her muscles strong and her skills sharp, should she ever need them again. Plus it has the added bonus of knowing that her knowledge contributed directly to some bastard getting what he deserved.
Eve grips her lover’s shoulders tightly from the surprise of being lifted so abruptly. There’s a slight lurch in her stomach from the movement but it is swiftly followed by the spreading warmth of desire. Eve wonders if it is normal to still get those sparks after all this time. Had they ever truly been there with Niko? She doesn’t think so, but her memory has slowly faded into two distinct sections- before Villanelle and after.
Everything from the before is a bit hazy. Whenever Eve thinks about it, she feels as if it is the early hours of the morning and she has just woken from a dream. The dream, neither good nor bad, blows like wind through her fingers without her ever really grasping it, fleeting and inconsequential. But the after, the after is bright and vibrant and powerful. It’s more than Eve ever imagined life had in store for her, but then again, her life didn’t really start until she met Villanelle.
Eve hugs her legs around Villanelle’s waist, locking herself securely in place and making the younger woman give a hum of approval. She tangles her fingers through blonde lockes and can’t help herself from kissing her lover deeply. There they are again, those wonderful little sparks that always seem to become a raging wildfire inside her. Eve is tempted to give in to the flames, but she remembers the heavenly smell coming from downstairs and her stomach starts to protest.
“Come on, dinner will burn.”
“So? You know I like to eat dessert first anyway.” Villanelle’s grin is positively wolfish, which does nothing to calm Eve’s desires. Villanelle licks her lips to emphasize her point, which would have been the last straw if Eve’s stomach didn’t choose this exact moment to let out a monstrous rumble. Rolling her eyes, Villanelle sets Eve down with another adorable pout. “Fine, real food first, but then maybe I can have second helpings of dessert later? My sweet tooth is just insatiable.” It’s the wink that does it.
Eve is properly blushing as she nods enthusiastically. “Dinner, dessert, out with Elena for karaoke night, then dessert again.”
“I forgot that is tonight.”
Eve retrieves her wine glass from the desk and follows her partner towards the kitchen. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I didn’t think you would turn down an opportunity to put on a show. Plus, Elena is only in town for a couple more days before she goes back to London and she wanted to go out with us before leaving.”
“Elena should just move here. I mean, she’s here often enough.”
“I don’t think she’ll ever stop working for Carolyn, but yeah, that would be nice.”
“Hold on Eve, I didn’t say it would be nice, just that it would make more sense.”
Eve snickers and pokes her partner affectionately. “Admit it, you like her.” Villanelle makes a face as if she has just smelled something revolting. “Well, she likes you.”
Villanelle’s features soften and she turns her attention wholly on getting the pot out of the oven. “No she doesn’t. She likes Violet Vasilpolkova.”
That earns a raised eyebrow from Eve, as they rarely use their new ‘legal’ names in the house. Then again, Villanelle hardly uses her other chosen name either, preferring to just go by V most days. Eve still loves the way Villanelle rolls off her tongue, especially in the bedroom, and she honestly loves Violet Vasilpolkova too, especially when it’s said in a thick Russian accent. But no matter what her lover wants to be called, she is still the same charmingly annoying, lovable soul underneath.
Villanelle had requested the name Violet in a state of delirium from her hospital bed while in and out of consciousness after the casino. It had been the funniest thing to her then, Violet is only one letter away from violent after all, and once Eve heard she thought it was hilariously fitting too. The last name though, that was painfully stitched together from the fabric of her past. Vasil to keep part of Konstantin, kova for her father and the memory of a family that she never really belonged to, and pol right in the middle for Eve. Even if Eve never woke up, Villanelle always wanted at least a fraction of her to hold on to.
“Aren’t you her too though?” Eve places her palm on the small of Villanelle’s back in a show of support. Villanelle leans into the touch and offers a small smile in return. “You are so many things. Oksana, Villanelle, Violet, all shades of the same color.”
“That color looks good on you, Maeve Pargrave.” The heaviness of the moment slips away with gentle laughs and the serving of shepherd's pie.
When Eve had first seen her new passport with the name Maeve Pargrave in bold at the top she had started crying. Villanelle had panicked, thinking she made the wrong choice, and offered to have Carolyn make a new one, but they were really the heavy, cathartic kind of tears that bring peace once they are gone. Villanelle had chosen Maeve because it had Eve built right in so everyone would assume Eve is just a nickname, and it’s also Irish to symbolize their time on the run in Kinsale. And Pargrave after Bill, the one kill Villanelle wishes she could go back in time and change. It was the least she could do, give Eve this little piece of him back after taking him from her in the first place.
“So, why shepherd’s pie tonight?”
“I was feeling sentimental.” Villanelle smiles between shoveling forkfuls of food into her mouth. “And the peas from the garden needed to be harvested.”
Eve smiles at the mention of their garden. At first, everything they had tried to grow ended up at the end of the street inside a black garbage can. There was definitely a learning curve, but now, after many failed attempts, their garden is flourishing. It’s no thanks to Eve, if she’s being honest. Villanelle was the one who eventually got the hang of it, and she’s grown quite skilled. Eve often jokes that it was Villanelle’s Russian ancestors whispering the secret to success that turned the tides in their favor.
Villanelle spends whole afternoons tending to her plants now. Devoting hour after hour to watering, fertilizing, and pest control. Villanelle doesn’t dwell on it often, but the reason she loves the garden so much is because, other than when she is touching Eve, it is the first time in her life that her hands have caused growth. There is no more blood and nothing to bury but seeds.
The rest of dinner passes peacefully while Eve relays stories from her shitty work day as a criminal psychology professor. Villanelle reminds her for the 100th time that Eve should just quit if it bothers her so much. They have the money so it wouldn’t be a problem. But as much as her boss sucks, which all bosses do, and the students can be overwhelming, Eve loves her job. It gives her access to countless archives of cases to research, none nearly as interesting as Villanelle’s but they still tickle her dark brain nonetheless, and it was her ticket in the door to local law enforcement. It’s nothing like MI6, but from time to time the Canadian government will call ‘Maeve Pargrave, expert on assassin and serial killer psychology’ in for an active case.
Once dinner is over and the dishes have been cleared, the two women move to their living room, nearly tripping over Elton along the way who has made himself comfortable right in the middle of the floor. The Fleetwood Mac record has long since finished playing yet continues to spin in an endless circle. The lights are dim and there is a pleasant glow from the setting sun coming through the window. It offers just enough light to illuminate the delicate features of each other's faces as they stand chest to chest, while casting everything else is dancing shadows.
Villanelle lets her eyes trail from the ends of Eve’s wild lockes, over the curve of her collar bones, up the smooth expanse of her neck, past her full lips, and finally lets them settle on the deep pools of Eve’s dark eyes. Villanelle will never stop being surprised by the endless supply of love that seems to be held there. She feels as if she could drown in it, in a good way, not like the terrible drowning that was not knowing if she would ever see these eyes again.
With gentle fingers, Villanelle lightly traces the swell of Eve’s cheekbones as she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Dance with me, my love?”
Eve smiles in response as she wraps one arm around Villanelle’s waist and takes V’s hand from her cheek with her other. “Okay, but not too long or we’ll be late.”
Villanelle simply smiles and starts to sway back and forth, dancing slowly to the soundtrack of their life together that plays on loop in her mind. She hears the beginning chords of their song like it’s being played from a piano in another room; it mixes with the melody of Eve’s laughter, the sound of yelling and plates being shattered followed by quiet apologies, the creak of their front door, and I-love-yous proclaimed under the stars with such passion that Villanelle thinks the words themselves might incinerate her.
“We have all the time in the world as long as we’re here together.”
Villanelle rests her head on Eve’s shoulder, breathing in the warm scent of her. She squeezes her lover a little closer subconsciously, wanting to hold onto her until the day that they die. Eve responds in kind, getting as close as she can and placing an adoring kiss on the top of Villanelle’s head.
They don’t actually know how much time they have, not really. Does anyone? Especially considering Villanelle and Eve’s checkered past. They did everything in their power to secure as much of a future together as possible, but who knows what fresh evils might await, what ghosts from their pasts could dig hard enough to find them. But no matter what troubles lie ahead, they are prepared to face it hand in hand, dancing the whole way.
That’s what true love is, isn’t it? It’s loving someone for every possible minute you have, doing whatever it takes to be together in the face of any and all odds. It’s loving someone despite of and because of their flaws. It’s dancing together even when there is no music.
True love is being asleep, being in the before, and then being shaken wide awake by the sight of your soulmate and catapulted into the after.
“All the time in the world isn’t be enough.”