Awkward
The bottles in front of Gaby, with their gaudy labels and enticing names, seemed more attractive than ever as she hung up the phone. With the absolute clusterfuck the last few days had turned out to be, she was in desperate need of a drink but at the same time utterly repulsed at the thought of even taking a sip. Part of it was the natural reluctance that remains even a few days after a major binging session, but mostly it was because she couldn't forget what had happened the last time she had indulged in alcohol. She was still acutely aware that her accomplice in that night's misdeeds was at that moment busy playing chess behind her, and doing everything in his power to not look at her as she examined the hotel room they both stood in, equally trying to avoid him as much as he was trying to avoid her.
Ever since their night together, back at that safe house in Berlin, they had been tiptoeing around each other. Unable to speak at length or even look in the other's general direction, Gaby thought that the memory of that morning would always remain firmly imprinted in her mind as the most awkward moment of her life. It had started off pretty well, she had been warm and very comfortable as awareness had descended over her. Of course, her head had been pounding awfully and she had tried to sit up with a groan but had not been able to due to a heavy weight over her waist pinning her to the bed. Blinking her eyes open, she had looked down at her body to see with some confusion an arm draped across her. She had stared at it dumbly for a moment as her hungover brain tried to connect the dots, and had not yet come to a conclusion even as the limb started to move- momentarily tightening around her before her companion also seemed to become aware of the unexpected sleeping situation.
They had made eye contact for one brief, horrifying moment as realisation suddenly dawned, and before Gaby's mind could quite comprehend it he had disappeared, a blur of pale flesh that promptly vanished behind the adjoining bathroom door. She had stared after him blankly for some time as the bed rapidly cooled, and realised with no small amount of mortification that they had been curled up around each other the whole night. Underneath the sheet she was uselessly clutching to her chest, she could only feel the rough texture of the material, confirming that she was wearing nothing else and pushing aside any lingering doubt that they had simply fallen asleep in the same bed.
She couldn't believe that she had spent the night with a total stranger, someone whose name she still didn't know. The thought had made her fall back on the bed with a horrified groan just as she heard the shower start to run. Glancing in the direction of the bathroom, she realised that he was probably equally disturbed at their actions and her gaze ended up falling on the other bed, still made up and clearly not slept in. The thought made her wince, and after some thought she realised she could not leave it in its current state. The Russian's handler would probably return, and if he happened to turn to look in this direction it would become immediately apparent what had occurred. She didn't want to think of what the potential consequences for that could be. She scrambled out of the bed and messed up the covers on the other one, just enough so it would look rumpled from someone lying on it.
With that task completed Gaby glanced down at her attire, or lack thereof, with an unhappy expression. Looking around the room she spotted various items of clothing, both hers and his, tossed carelessly about and busied herself with collecting her own clothes into a pile. After a moment of hesitation she did the same for his, memories appearing unbidden as she picked each item up, a blush profusely colouring her cheeks. Clothing hadn't apparently been a big concern when her companion had made his escape, and she wondered when it would dawn on him that clothes were not going to magically appear in the bathroom. With her foot she pushed the pile so that it was directly next to the door and would be the first thing he would see when he inevitably exited. Heading over to the bag she had brought from her flat she dressed quickly and nearly jumped a mile when she heard the front door suddenly open.
"Where is Agent Kuryakin?" The handler asked, after looking around to ascertain that the giant was not in the room. Gaby realised with a guilty start that she had suddenly come into the knowledge of her bed partner's last name but was still totally unaware of what his first name was.
"In the shower." She replied meekly, self-consciously tugging the collar of her shirt up to try to hide the hickey on her neck. Luckily he did not seem to notice and after a mutter of Russian he stormed out, presumably to wait for a better time to return.
The agent, Kuryakin as she now knew him by, had not been able to avoid her forever and had eventually reappeared, gratefully snatching up his clothes from the floor after a brief glance around and disappeared again to dress out of her sight. She had been fully aware of what a sight she must have been when he had briefly seen her as to her embarrassment she had flushed to the colour of a ripe tomato when he had come into view. If anything she had looked more embarrassed when he had turned to go back into the room and she spotted long, fresh-looking red lines down his back. With some mortification she realised that at some point in the night she had scratched him and left him with a parting memento of a night she was sure he would have liked to forget.
Eventually he had to come back out again and had determinedly looked at anything in the room other than her, uttering a quiet thank you when she had mumbled about having made breakfast. They ate in silence, both of their gazes totally fixed on the bowls in front of them. The handler had returned and retrieved Kuryakin, barking out orders in Russian to the quiet man. They had left her alone for a couple of hours, locking the door behind them so she couldn't make a quick escape, not that she would have anyway. What would have been the point? The Russian would just have been sent after her again and she didn't think that would go too well. He had returned alone, and after uncomfortably clearing his throat had managed to say a whole few sentences to her.
"Americans wish to help with mission. We will be working with a CIA agent, and we will go meet him tomorrow." Stunned, Gaby had not been able to do anything but nod and without anything further to say he retrieved the paperwork he had discarded the previous night and spent the next few hours fully absorbed in it as she tried to quietly entertain herself. Unfortunately with plenty of time to think, her mind had returned to the previous night often as more and more memories became available to her. With lack of any better option she had gone to bed early, averting her gaze from the rumpled sheets of the other bed she had spent the night in and had turned her back firmly to it, shutting to her eyes and begging for sleep to come quickly.
When she woke the next morning, she turned over to find the bed next to her still empty and completely untouched. Once dressed, she had padded quietly into the main room to find the Russian slumped over the dining table, head in his arms and fast asleep. He had spent the whole night there and she felt a sudden surge of pity as she realised how stiff and uncomfortable he would feel when he woke up. Clearly the thought of sleeping in the same bed that was the source of their current problems and so near to her own sleeping form had not filled him with any enthusiasm, and the dining chair had likely been a much more attractive option for a place to rest. Asleep, he looked very peaceful and so much more relaxed than she had ever seen him. She imagined that his dreams were doing wonders to make him forget his lapse in judgement. With a brief moment of regret Gaby had put a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake, he looked up at her blearily for a moment before remembering who she was and bolted upright like a startled colt.
"We should get ready and head out as soon as possible." He said quietly and promptly went to hide in the bathroom again before she could make any word of reply.
When they were both ready, they headed out and travelled for a few hours. She could tell immediately when they crossed the border into the West, and took pleasure in the distraction, nearly sticking her head out of the car window so she could take in all the new and exciting sights they drove past. Eventually they reached a designer dress shop where he immediately set to work in preparing a wardrobe for her to wear during the mission. He seemed to have decent taste in clothes, which she was absurdly grateful for since had he tried to dress her in rags she likely would not have complained in order to avoid a conversation. Everything he chose for her was frightfully expensive, but she assumed that was more to do with their cover story than him making any sort of gesture for her.
The American, an agent by the name of Napoleon Solo arrived, and for several blissful minutes the awkwardness faded as the two men engaged in a scathing argument. Eventually Kuryakin stormed off, leaving her alone with the American as he went to retrieve something from the car. Solo was charming, but not in a way she found particularly attractive. He flirted as though he knew no other way to speak to a woman and she found herself fending off his attentions with barely concealed boredom. Kuryakin returned during a particularly unsubtle conversation filled with enough double entendre for her to lose track of what they were talking about in the first place, and by the stony expression on his face she could tell he was not impressed. Napoleon took this as his cue to leave.
"Ah Gaby," he said dramatically, "if only I had arrived a few hours earlier, perhaps I could have been your fake fiancée." The statement startled her, and after he left she turned a questioning gaze over to the Russian.
"CIA were sent to find you the night after I did." He said tersely. The information did not surprise her too much, and she couldn't help but wonder how things might have turned out if one of the men had timed their retrieval differently. She doubts she would have slept with Solo if the roles had been reversed, his seduction technique was too well practiced and obvious for her to fall for it, and with hindsight she can understand why she was more receptive to the Russian's attentions. There was something very endearing about how much he had tried to resist her, and unlike the American she was sure that he had absolutely no intention of bedding her when they had first met.
They travelled to Italy by train, and at some point in the journey Gaby made some excuses and ended up finding herself in the American's train carriage. Things were still tense between her and Kuryakin, but not in any way that might arouse suspicion, and luckily Solo seemed to assume it was because she had an innate hatred for all things communist. She used her time with him to acquire information, mostly in an attempt to reassure herself that she had not slept with a total psychopath. Not sensing her deception, the American enthusiastically answered any and all questions she had, seeming to take enjoyment out of dishing the gossip on her companion. She learned a lot in that time, including her bed partner's first name- Illya. It was a name that fit him, and she only wished she had discovered it much earlier. Innocently enquiring as to what else the American knew about her fake fiancée, she had found out more than she had perhaps wanted: psychotic rages, a disgraced formerly high ranking father, and a well-known promiscuous mother. The latter two fit well into the narrative she had crafted for him from the scraps of information he had given her, and she could accept those easily, understanding now why her question about stepfather's might have affected him so. The rages she had found more difficult to believe, he had never seemed particularly violent to her in fact he had been exceedingly gentle. The only bruises she had from their night together were small love bites and with the marks she had left on his skin she is sure he got away worse than she did.
Gaby distinctly remembered when her scepticism about the rages had been dashed, she and Illya had managed to put aside their awkwardness long enough to pretend to be a couple so they could be robbed. It had not been comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, and had felt more like a school play than actual spy work. Still their acting had been passable until one of the men took an interest in Illya's watch, at which point she caught a glimmer of the barely restrained violence he seemed to hold within him. Her grip on his wrists had seemed enough to push it back beneath the surface and stop him from tearing the thieves apart, but she couldn't help but be a little scared that this was alarmingly regular for him. She recalled how his hands shook when his handler had berated him, and wondered whether the alcohol was the only thing that stopped him from destroying the room.
They returned to their hotel room in total silence, if anything more uncomfortable with each other now that this other side of his personality has been revealed than when they had just discovered their impromptu one night stand. He hadn't said a word as he entered the room, and immediately headed to his case to pull out a chess set. The movement of pieces from one side of the board to the other seemed to have the same calming effect as the copious amounts of vodka he had drunk a few nights ago. The obvious signs of coping strategies were there, and it only confirmed her suspicions that these attacks were likely not rare. The phone call from her uncle distracted her, and she chatted away to him in German trying to ignore the man behind her as she faced the bar section of the room and looked longingly at the bottles lined up. When she hung up, the silence seemed even more deafening than before, and she turned to find that his attention was still entirely focussed on the game in front of him.
Pushing her shoulders back, Gaby prepared herself for the conversation ahead and moved to sit on the sofa beside him. He continued to not pay her any attention, but she knew that he was very aware of her presence by the slight tremble his hands took on as they repositioned a knight piece.
"I know things aren't exactly comfortable now." She began, watching him as he studiously avoided meeting her eye. "But for the sake of the mission we should put what happened behind us." Gaby didn't say whether or not she regretted it, because quite frankly she didn't and she didn't want to hear if he did. She was stuck in a nest of vipers at the moment with the Vinciguerras, and there was comfort in having someone by her side that she knew so intimately. It was better than if he were a total stranger, at least now she had hope that their night together meant he held some fondness for her and would be more willing to help her if something went very wrong.
"I'm sorry." He managed to say and met her gaze for a very brief moment. He looked unbelievably guilty and she frowned as she tries to work out why he might feel that way.
"You shouldn't be." She said with a slight shrug. "If anything I should be apologising, you were the one that was more reluctant." Gaby flushed deeply as that too conjured up more uncomfortable memories, her seduction had not been a subtle one. Her reassurances did seem to have some effect and she saw some, but not where near all of, the tension leave his shoulders.
"You are right." He admitted. "We should forget about it. Focus on the mission instead."
It was easier said than done. The next night he returned from the Vinciguerra factory, shaken to his core by something he wouldn't say. He looked deathly pale, and even after assuring himself of Napoleon's safety he did not look any better. For a man of his sheer size, he somehow managed to look quite small. Uncertain of what to do to banish this strange mood from him, Gaby approached him warily and found that when she rested a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, her touch seemed to calm him more than any words she could say.
Instinctively, Gaby knew what he needed and moved around so she faced him, hands splayed across his broad chest as she searched his face for some signal of permission. He looked back at her steadily and did not object or move back when she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and slowly raised her hands to his cheeks. Nor did he resist when she pulled his face down so she could reach up to place a slow, tender kiss on his lips.
The gesture had the desired effect and he relaxed completely, returning the kiss just as gently as his hands traced a path from her shoulders to her waist. It was not the passionate embrace of their first night together, but there was something much more meaningful about this. After a while she pulled away slightly and gave him a shy smile as she pushed on his shoulders until he moved back and sat on her bed, his hands still rested on her hips as she climbed onto his lap so she could straddle him. His clothes were soaked and she felt a slight chill settle into her as she quickly removed them and threw them into a corner. If she had to guess she would assume he had fallen or jumped into a lake, and as expected his skin was cold to the touch. She raised her fingers to unbutton her pyjamas, but one of his large hands enclosed around hers, stopping her from continuing. Surprised, Gaby looked back at him in confusion as he gently moved her hands out of the way.
"Let me." He said quietly and finished the job she had started. She half-expected him to kiss her again when they were both undressed, but he didn't and simply pulled her close so that they were pressed tightly together, faces only separated by a few inches. She traced a thumb over the scar above his eye as they contemplated each other silently. He was much warmer now, her own body heat seemed to have chased away the shiver that the icy water had set in him.
"No running away in the morning." She ordered him solemnly, fully prepared to initiate if he was still feeling unsure about how receptive she was to his attentions.
"No, not this time." He agreed and closed the distance between them. Her eyes fluttered shut as she hummed in contentment. This time they wouldn't have the excuse of it being a drunken mistake, they were both sober and fully aware of what they were doing, and were not letting the mission or anything else stop them from giving into their feelings for each other. As before, Gaby lost herself in his touch and allowed herself to forget that tomorrow she would betray him.
Author's Note: Had to substantially revise this from my first draft, which could be seen as a good thing as it grew by about a thousand words. First draft was an utter mess, past tense and present tense all messed up.