AN: This is the last chapter I'll be posting on this site. For more updates, check my account on AO3: daydreaming_out_loud
fixed
TUESDAY
ONE SECOND LATER
"No, Eve," Villanelle growls. "That can never happen. I won't let it."
"Why not?" Eve demand obstinately.
"Why not?" Villanelle retorts with a laugh. "Eve, are you serious?"
"I'm completely serious."
"You can't come with me while I do this!" Villanelle shouts, a hard edge to her voice.
"Why?" Eve fires back, staring into the blacks of Villanelle's eyes. "Because it's illegal?"
"Yes, because it's illegal," Villanelle hisses. "All of the work I do here is illegal. I go out and steal cars then I bring them back and tear them to pieces so I can sell the parts. Are you happy now?" She kicks at an exhaust pipe. It flies across the garage. Then she turns sharply away from Eve, grinding her teeth with frustration.
Eve is happy to have finally gotten some answers out of Villanelle, but all she feels is unsettled with a great pressure mounting inside, urging her to find out the exact truth.
"Why did you break into my house?" she asks.
Villanelle turns around, looking confused. "What?"
"Oh, don't bullshit me, Villanelle. You just told me you're a thief. You must know how to pick a lock."
Villanelle's lip twitches.
"My phone, the roses. Was that you?" Eve questions.
Villanelle shuts her eyes. A low ringing starts in her ears.
"Did you break into the Prius too?" Eve presses her further with an air of hostility.
Villanelle's eyes pop open. She glares at Eve for the accusation.
"I didn't touch the Prius. I would never do that."
"Oh well you don't have a problem putting stolen parts in it. Why not smash the windshield?" Eve rejoins, gesturing about. "Maybe that's how you drum up business for yourself."
Villanelle stalks towards Eve, speaking in a low voice. "You think I would smash Bill's car just to get some business?"
"I don't know!" Eve throws her hands up. "I don't what you do or how you act when you're working here!"
"Oh, like I am some completely different person."
"You are!" Eve exclaims. "You're a thief, sneaking around at night, going out and breaking into people's cars."
"Eve-"
"And then you're a nice, friendly neighborhood mechanic," Eve goes on, somewhat mocking in tone, "fixing up cars with a smile on your face except you forget to tell your customers that the parts in their cars are from missing vehicles!"
Villanelle glares vehemently, brow lowered over dark eyes, jaw clamped shut. She fights with herself to stay in control of her temper.
"What?" Eve asks, looking her up and down with a sneer. "You want to hit me?"
"Hit you?" Villanelle retorts in disbelief. "Is that really what you think of me, Eve? I would never put a hand on you, ever, no matter how upset I got. And I am really angry now but it didn't even cross my mind." The muscles in her neck flex and tense. "If you want that in your life then maybe you should go back to Niko."
Eve scoffs. "Wow."
"Do you want to know what I really want to do right now, Eve?" Villanelle asks with a tone and look that makes Eve uneasy. "Hm? What I really want to do so bad."
Eve swallows. Adrenaline spurts from her heart.
"I want to break something and destroy it but you already ruined the entire garage!" Villanelle shouts up at the rafters. She kicks a brake pad then a camshaft.
"Well what was I supposed to do?" Eve shouts. "I needed evidence!"
"Evidence." Villanelle scoffs, biting down on her lip to quell the anger. "I hope you found what you were looking for, Eve."
"I did."
"Great." Villanelle turns away from her, unexpectedly wanting to cry. Tears start to form but she suppresses them before they can fall. "Great," she repeats quieter, running her hand through her hair and letting out a heavy sigh. She gazes absently at the red Audi for a long time before speaking again. "Look, if you want to break up with me just do it now and get it over with. Then I can try to put the garage back together before the sun comes up." She looks back at Eve, noticeably drained and down in mood. "Okay?"
Eve falters, taken aback by the sudden, somber change in Villanelle's demeanor. "No, I"—she fumbles for words—"I, I don't…" She trails off, a confused expression on her face.
"Don't what?" Villanelle asks impatiently, raising her brows at Eve.
"Don't know," Eve says slowly. "What I want."
Villanelle nods, swallowing back more tears. "Well if you figure it out, give me a call."
She turns her back on Eve, crossing the cluttered garage to the shelves that Eve pulled away from the wall earlier, grunting as she lifts them back up.
"Wait, Villanelle." Eve steps over tires and through a maze of engine parts to get to her. "We can talk about this, we can-"
"What is there to talk about, Eve?" Villanelle mutters over her shoulder, more resigned now. "You came here, trashed the garage, and finally figured out what I do. You won, okay? So go home and go to bed. You'll probably sleep better without me there."
"What? Villanelle." Eve takes her gently by the arm. "This wasn't about me winning."
"No?" Villanelle challenges. Her throat bobs. She hides behind an impassive expression.
"No," Eve insists. "I was trying to get answers from you but you wouldn't tell me. You refused to."
"What was I supposed to say, hm? Sorry, I can't come over tonight. I'm busy dismantling a stolen vehicle. No, can't tomorrow either, I have to steal a Range Rover."
"Yeah, that would have worked."
"Jesus, Eve." Villanelle scoffs, holding onto the shelves and hanging her head. "Why are you making this so difficult? Just go home."
With the climax of the conflict passing, like a thunderstorm fading away on the horizon, Eve looks around at the destruction she caused, parts strewn about and scattered across the garage, workbenches emptied, contents thrown on the floor. Her eyes fall on Villanelle whose abrupt low mood makes her stomach knot with something like guilt. She takes a blue bin and starts picking up bolts one by one. They clink and clank.
Villanelle looks up. Her shoulders droop. "What are you doing, Eve?" she asks tiredly.
"I don't want you to get in trouble with Dasha or Konstantin," Eve replies, collecting a handful of hex nuts. "I saw what Dasha did to you before. I don't want that to happen again because I came in here and wrecked everything."
Villanelle's face hardens. "How did you see that?"
"Because I came here in Bill's car and spied on you for a week, then again for the past two nights in a rental."
"Oh."
Eve sets the bin on the workbench, leaning against it and letting out a defeated sigh.
"I had to know what this place was, what you did here, for myself, and because I was worried about you," she explains. "The more I looked into it, the worse I felt and I knew that it would just keep bothering me until I figured it out." She looks down at the ground and adds, barely audible, "I'm sorry."
Villanelle nods. She looks at Eve for a long time without responding, deciding what to say, what to do, thinking of all the consequences that are sure to come because of this incident. They'll find out. They always find out. She tries not to imagine the punishment.
But there's no going back now. Eve knows the truth. So what's the point in fighting anymore?
"The nuts go in the other bin," Villanelle finally says with a small grin.
Eve looks up and smiles weakly, nodding and separating the nuts from bolts, dumping them in the black bin.
"You worry about me working here?" Villanelle asks softly.
"I worried ever since I came here the first time," Eve says. "More when I saw Dasha choke you in the middle of the garage."
"Oh," Villanelle mutters, looking away from Eve.
"That's not normal workplace stuff."
"Depends on the workplace," Villanelle tries with a grin.
Eve gives her a flat look. "It's not."
Villanelle nods, recognizing this, but avoids Eve's gaze and goes back to returning items to their proper place. She looks small standing next to the tall metal shelves, large, clunky engine components all around her.
"You can trust me, Villanelle," Eve says earnestly, arriving at her side. "With anything."
"I don't want you involved in this part of my life, Eve," Villanelle mutters. "You shouldn't be. You deserve better."
"What if I want to be involved in it?" Eve says. "What then?"
Villanelle shakes her head, looking at Eve with an almost charmed grin. "No."
Eve's brows go up. "No?"
"No," Villanelle repeats.
"So that's it then? You're breaking up with me?"
"What, no, that's not what I meant," Villanelle says. "That's not what I want, I don't, I just"—she huffs—"I don't know how to do this, how to date someone who knows, and I'm really hungry and tired and my eyes hurt and I don't want to think about it anymore." She sighs heavily with a frown; utterly exhausted.
"Okay." Eve nods, suddenly feeling exhausted herself from all the adrenaline and tumultuous changes in emotion. And seeing Villanelle so vulnerable, getting at least some information out of her, she's willing to let it go for the night. "Okay," she says again, gently taking Villanelle's hand. "We can clean up without talking."
"No, Eve." Villanelle squeezes Eve's hand. "Go home. I will do the rest."
"But I want to help. It's my fault."
"No." Villanelle shakes her head. "I don't want you in here when it's like this. I still have work to do."
"But-"
"I will come over after. Okay?"
WEDNESDAY
Much later in the night, or rather very early in the morning, Villanelle unlocks Eve's back door with her tools and navigates through the dark kitchen—leaving her boots by the door—and up the stairs to Eve's bedroom, softly opening the door.
"Eve," she whispers. "It's me. Are you awake?"
The rise and fall of Eve's chest go undisturbed. Villanelle tiptoes inside, stripping down to her T-shirt and panties and slipping under the sheets. She cautiously scoots closer to Eve, hesitating a second, then wraps her arm around Eve's waist and cuddles up next to her.
Eve grins.
xxxxx
Eve awakes, lying on her back, to Villanelle's heavy arm on her stomach, the thin fabric of her tank damp where it's trapped between body parts. Villanelle remains asleep, a steady rhythm to her breath in and out her nose. Eve gazes at her with a soft expression, thinking to herself that Villanelle looks younger when she sleeps. And watching her peaceful slumber, it's easy for Eve to forget all the fighting and lies and betrayal, easy for her to dismiss the truth of what Villanelle does, the fact that she is a criminal.
But Eve chooses to set it all aside for a little while longer, holding on to the lightness and calm of the early morning before lightly tracing her nails up and down Villanelle's arm. It takes a few seconds, then Villanelle rouses, inhaling a deep breath and stretching her legs until her toes curl, letting out a soft moan and smiling once she remembers where she is, inhaling the scent of Eve on the sheets.
"Good morning," Eve murmurs.
"Morning," Villanelle mumbles, feeling beat-up and sluggish, anything but well-rested. Her eyes remain closed. "What time is it?" she asks with a soft, groggy voice.
"Early," Eve says, rolling onto her side and tangling her legs with Villanelle's.
Villanelle grunts. "How early?"
"Before my alarm."
Villanelle groans, puckering her nose at that. If she doesn't move or open her eyes, she still might be able to fall back asleep.
"When did you come in?" Eve asks, brushing loose strands of hair away from Villanelle's face.
"Late."
Eve lets out a breathy chuckle, not pressing a sleep-deprived Villanelle further. She runs her fingers through strands of Villanelle's hair, tucking them behind her ear, feeling reality start to set in and the necessity of having a conversation, likely a difficult one. She struggles with what to say and how to start, how to approach the entire ordeal in general, and begins to speak right when her alarm goes off, abruptly and feeling as if it's the loudest it's ever been.
"Turn it off," Villanelle whines, burying her head in the pillows.
Eve rolls over and silences the alarm on her phone. It's 7:00 a.m. They still have plenty of time to discuss the events of last night, the last several nights, weeks really, before she has to catch the Tube to work. She scoots back over to Villanelle, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling.
"I have to go to work soon."
Villanelle grunts.
"And we have to talk."
Villanelle groans, sounding deeply upset as if Eve just asked her to (). "I don't want to."
"I don't either really but we can't go on like this without talking."
"Can't we just go get breakfast and pretend like nothing happened?" Villanelle mutters, her head still buried under pillows.
Eve cackles. "I'm sure that's the way you'd like to do it but, no. If you want to sleep in my bed again, we have to talk."
Villanelle grumbles and groans but concedes and shimmies out from the pillows, turning on her side and looking at Eve, blonde hair messy in front of her grumpy face.
"Hi." Eve smiles.
Villanelle flares her nostrils.
Eve wastes no time. "So last night when-"
Villanelle huffs.
"Villanelle, I need the truth. All of it."
"It's not even seven."
Eve laughs tiredly. "Then best to get it out of the way now so you can have your whole day free without thinking about it."
Villanelle groans in protest, flopping down onto the pillows and hiding her face in the comforter in the most dramatic way, avoiding it all for a few seconds longer, hoping Eve might let it go, and when she doesn't, finally mumbling, "Fine." She huffs. "But I will only tell you so much." She lifts her head. "I can only tell you so much."
Eve presses her lips together. "Villanelle."
"It's for your own good, Eve. I know you are about to ask me a bunch of questions," Villanelle says, finally sitting herself up and getting settled against the pillows. "But most you will not want the answer to."
"I want all the answers."
"No, not today." Villanelle shakes her head. "Not this morning. Maybe not ever."
"Why?"
"Because that's the way it has to be," Villanelle says with a groan, sounding exhausted from having to repeat herself so many times. "That's what is best for you, safest. Whatever you heard or read about auto theft and the Russian bratva is nothing compared to what it's really like."
"But I want to know," Eve presses, sitting up and looking at Villanelle with an impatient expression. "I have to."
Villanelle stares at Eve, eyes bloodshot, expression emptied, worn out from the constant questioning. Deciding how to best handle the situation, she yields again, which is not easy for her, and the fact that she's done it twice only makes her more irritated with the situation she's in but right now she's too tired to care.
"You can ask two questions," she offers. "Only two. I won't answer any more."
Eve grumbles, mulling it over. "Fine," she agrees. "But you have to give me a real answer, a full explanation. Not some one-word response."
Villanelle shoots Eve an affronted look. "Okay."
"How long have you been stealing cars for the bratva?" Eve asks. It's a two for one question, forcing Villanelle to confirm or deny she's part of a bratva.
Villanelle runs her tongue across her teeth, realizing Eve's clever maneuver. She glowers while Eve grins, clearly very proud of herself.
"Okay, if that is how you want to be," Villanelle grumbles under her breath, scratching her head and only making her hair more ruffled. She tries to smooth it down, buying herself a little more time as she works on a response. She considers lying, even bolting out the door, but finally sighs, gives in yet again, and explains, "I started when I was seventeen. In Russia. Moscow. It was mostly break-ins back then, hot-wiring older cars, selling them for scraps. Then I moved here and things changed. Got more complicated." She stops there with a look suggesting there is more, much more, but today is not the day for it.
Eve nods, appreciating this bit she got, learning more about Villanelle's past now than the entire time they've been together. She decides on an easier question next, not wanting to press Villanelle or push her away, realizing that this is going to be a long process and it's probably best not to rush it. It takes a great deal of self-control for Eve not to ask the burning questions at the forefront of her brain, and it surprises her just how much.
"Why cars?" she asks before she changes her mind. "Why not jewelry or purses or phones?"
"Technically, that is three questions," Villanelle points out.
Eve gives her an impatient look. "You know what I mean."
Villanelle nods, gazing thoughtfully out the window, through the gaps in the sheer curtains, at the pale blue sky. "I like cars," she says, a faraway look in her eyes. The early morning sunlight catching the flecks of green in her eyes making them appear more hazel. "I like working on engines, figuring out what's wrong with them. You have to know all the components of a car to be a good mechanic. Exactly what function each part performs, what system it belongs to, what it's connected to, what's connected to it. You don't even have to think when you take cars apart, just how fast you can get it done."
She chances a glance at Eve who watches her intently but softly. Feeling safe to proceed, Villanelle gives more than the required response.
"I started working for Dasha first, in Russia. Then I met Konstantin. He's nicer—mm, easier to persuade. I told him I wanted my own garage so I could actually work on cars and make real money," she explains "You can't make enough to live on as a…a…someone like me. You'd have to do other jobs, worse jobs, and I didn't want to do that. Konstantin told me he could get me the garage, here in London, get me out of Russia but I would still have to do jobs for Dasha." She pauses, watching a bird land on a tree branch. Another joins it, then they both fly away. "When I realized that we could be making more money by installing parts instead of scraping them as junk, they were pleased, gave me time off. I thought that I wouldn't have to do jobs for them anymore but..." She trails off and sighs softly, looking down at her hands, suddenly feeling very exposed. Uncomfortable from the sensation, she shifts around restlessly under the sheets.
"Thank you," Eve says, gently placing her hand on Villanelle's. "For telling me."
Villanelle nods but doesn't look at Eve. She pokes around her cheek with her tongue, feeling a sweeping sensation of something that must be similar to shame, losing her voice for a moment, then asking in a near-whisper, "Do you not like me anymore because you know what I really do?"
"What?" Eve breathes out. "No, of course not." She is surprised Villanelle would think this. "If anything, I like you more." She chuckles.
Villanelle gives Eve a funny look, not understanding. "Really?"
"I think stealing cars is kind of sexy," Eve says with a casual shrug as if this is the most normal sentence to say aloud.
"Some parts are, some parts aren't," Villanelle mutters with a smile that quickly fades.
"You have to be clever and skilled, fearless and sneaky to do what you do successfully," Eve says. "That is sexy."
Villanelle grins weakly to one side.
"Did you really think I'd break up with you?" Eve asks. "That I was going to kick you out of my house?"
"Yeah, a little." Villanelle shrugs. "I just told you that I steal cars for a living and am part of organized crime."
Eve laughs, scooting closer to Villanelle and taking her hand, interlacing their fingers. "It's not like I would ever report you or your garage to the police. You could've just told me. That would have made this ten times easier and saved me a lot of heartache."
"It's not really something you tell someone, even after three months of dating them," Villanelle says, giving Eve a sideways glance. "Maybe you are just more…" She searches for the word. "Mm, understanding than most people. Tolerant. Or reckless. Crazier for sure. Definitely not normal."
"Yeah well, nobody's really normal," Eve replies with a laugh, resting her head on Villanelle's shoulder. She waits a minute before asking, "So we're still dating then?"
"I think so." Villanelle nods. "Yes?" She glances at Eve. "If you still like me after all this then I think we have a pretty good shot at making this last."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhm." Villanelle grins, resting her head on Eve's, snuggling into her. "It might be a little toxic but…"
Eve chuckles. "As long as you don't mind dating a married woman, we're fine."
"That's actually what I prefer."
"Oh." Eve scoffs with another laugh, playfully pushing against Villanelle.
Villanelle grins and pushes back, freeing her hand and wrapping her arm around Eve, taking her down to the mattress and hugging her tight while Eve laughs and tries to wiggle away. They wrestle for control, wriggling and twisting, limbs flying around until Eve manages to spin over, forcing Villanelle onto her back. She nuzzles onto Villanelle's chest, hooking her leg around her when she tries a sneaky move. Surrendering completely, but only for today, Villanelle relaxes and submits, running her fingers through Eve's curls, remembering just how good it feels to be close to her. A serene kind of quiet settles around them, birds chipping outside.
"It will be different, now that you know," Villanelle says, breaking the silence.
"What do you mean?" Eve asks, looking up at her.
"You'll see."
Eve creases her brow, stirred by these words, about to ask another question, but she catches the time on her clock on the bedside table.
"Shit."
She's definitely going to be late.
She rolls over with a grunt, wanting to remain in this bliss state with Villanelle all day, but climbs out of bed.
"No." Villanelle groans, reaching over and trying to re-capture Eve. "Can't we stay in bed?"
"No, I'm already late."
Villanelle gives her a petulant frown. "Call in sick."
Eve's laugh trails off as she disappears into the bathroom. "What are you going to do?" she calls. "Lounge around my house all day?"
"Maybe," Villanelle says, wrapping the comforter around her head and refusing to move. "I don't even have to show up to work if I don't want to."
Eve returns wearing a black silk robe, rolling her eyes at the comment.
"One of the perks of owning your own business." Villanelle smirks, bouncing her brow.
"Come on," Eve urges, gently hitting Villanelle's leg. "I'll make you breakfast."
Villanelle's eyes light up. "Bacon and eggs?"
"You'll take what you can get."
xxxxx
After two servings of oatmeal, a piece of toast with jelly, and an apple, Villanelle finally pushes her bowl aside.
"Do you want more?" Eve asks warily, seated across from her, only eating a piece of toast herself.
"No," Villanelle replies with a triumphant smile. "I'm full."
"Okay, good because I don't think I have any more oatmeal," Eve says, clearing the dishes from the table. "You just cleaned out my last box."
"Oh. Well. Thank you, Eve," Villanelle chimes, sipping her orange juice happily, hair tousled to one side. She plays with the string from her teat that hangs over the side of her mug as she watches Eve tidy up the kitchen which mainly entails piling everything in the sink and running water over it.
"Oh, I was thinking last night," Eve remembers, digging around the junk draw and pulling out the spare key. "That way you don't have to break in anymore."
"Back under the pot?"
"No, for you to have."
Eve says it so casually, as if giving Villanelle a key to her house is not a big step in their relationship, a major issue of trust, almost a leap of faith in this case.
"Oh." Villanelle's cheeks flush. She swallows. "Oh."
Eve sets the key on the table in front of her. "It was you, right? Breaking in? I don't want to have to change the locks again. It's a pain in the ass and unreasonably expensive."
Villanelle looks down at the key, abashed, and nods.
"Why the hell would you break in after you already broke in?" Eve asks in wonder.
"I don't know," Villanelle mumbles. "I was nervous."
"About what?"
"Just something." Villanelle keeps her gaze down.
"What?" Eve repeats, one hand on her hip. "Villanelle."
"Just…." Villanelle anxiously wriggles around in her seat. "Something I wanted to do but didn't end up doing so I did that instead. I don't know. I wasn't thinking clearly."
Eve throws up a hand, clearly not going to get an answer on this one. "Okay. I have to try to catch the Tube. I already missed my first one." She kisses Villanelle on the cheek. "You can stay if you want or-"
"Wait," Villanelle interjects.
Eve gives her a curious look. "What?"
"I need to get my stitches out," Villanelle mutters, looking away and shyly tracing her fingers up and down the splint on her left hand. "Could you maybe help?"
"What do you mean, like go to the doctor with you?" Eve asks. "I'll hold your hand if you want but it shouldn't hurt."
"No, I need to take them out," Villanelle says. "I'm not going to the doctor."
Eve gives her a funny look. "Why not?"
"Because I don't like it there."
"Villanelle, you can't just not go."
"I can if I cut them out myself," Villanelle says defiantly. Then she gets quiet again. "But I can't do it myself. I already tried and almost cut my finger open again." She glances at Eve, soft and timid. "I need your help." She knows she's being coy and the effect it has on Eve. "But I guess I can ask Jess if she will do it," she adds, looking disappointed by the thought, glancing up at Eve again, hoping this will leave her with no choice but to do it.
"Oh Jesus Christ," Eve mutters, shaking her head. She puts off work a little longer and fills up a small saucepan with water, setting it on the stove on high. "I have no medical training aside from that one anatomy class I took back in university," she says, walking around Villanelle and upstairs to her bedroom. "And that was…oh God, I don't even want to think about how many years ago."
Villanelle grins to herself, carefully removing the splint on her finger as she listens to Eve's footsteps going around her bedroom and bathroom then coming back down the stairs. Eve returns with a bath towel, scissors, tweezers, rubbing alcohol, antibiotic ointment, and a box of bandages.
"Don't touch them!" she snaps at Villanelle who is about to poke and prod with a sticky, unclean finger.
Villanelle groans, trapping her right hand between her legs so she can't touch the sutures. They're very itchy.
"How many are there?" Eve asks, impatiently checking the water on the stove.
"Eight."
"Oh. That's not bad."
"What is bad?" Villanelle asks as Eve pulls up a chair, laying the towel down and gesturing for Villanelle to set her hand on it.
"I don't know, fifteen? Twenty?" Eve shrugs. She scoots her chair closer, knees bumping into Villanelle's. "Let me see."
Villanelle offers her hand and Eve holds it gently, moving it around and inspecting the wound. "Oh, this won't be hard at all."
"What? You have done this before?" Villanelle asks, implying Eve could never.
"A few times, yeah." Eve nods with a shrug, getting up from the table.
"What? Eve?" Villanelle retorts in surprise, jaw dropped. "When?" she demands, watching Eve in the kitchen, waiting for an explanation.
Eve just grins smugly, chuckling to herself as she drops the tweezers and scissors into the barely simmering water on the stove.
xxxxx
After ten minutes of boiling to sanitize and another ten to cool, Eve picks up the tweezers and scissors from the bath towel.
"Ready?" she asks.
Villanelle gives her a small nod.
Using the tweezers, Eve grabs hold of the knot of the first stitch, sliding the scissors under the thread, and snipping in one clean cut. Villanelle squirms.
"Are you okay?" Eve asks, pausing and glancing up at Villanelle to check on her.
"Yeah, it's just weird to watch."
"Try not to watch then. Look somewhere else."
"Like where?"
"I don't know," Eve says, focused on the next stitch. "Out the window?"
"How about down your shirt?" Villanelle tries with a smirk.
Eve glances up at her with a flat look then rolls her eyes and smiles. "If it helps, it helps."
Villanelle grins, wider when Eve leans forward more, allowing her tank to hang open, giving Villanelle just a peek.
"Mm." Villanelle suddenly forgets about the seven remaining sutures in her finger.
Eve proceeds, meticulous and careful, snipping each stitch until she removes all eight, finishing with antibiotic ointment and two fabric bandages, one above and one below Villanelle's middle knuckle, not entirely satisfied with her work due to the small portion of pink scar that is left exposed but it will suffice for now.
"Okay." Eve falls back in her chair with a sigh. "Nothing like removing stitches to start the day."
Villanelle beams. "Thank you, Eve." She wiggles her finger, bending it for the first time in days. Her skin is tight along the pink mark but it's very nearly healed. "It feels so good to move."
"Of course." Eve wraps up all the supplies in the towel, stands, and kisses Villanelle on the top of the head. "Now I really do have to go to work. Bill's gonna be so annoyed with me." She chuckles at the thought.
xxxxx
Spending all morning bent over different engines, finally able to work with both hands again, Villanelle focuses on cars for a while, hoping to get Eve out of her head, specifically, the idea of Eve going out on a job with her, sitting beside her, an accomplice to her crimes. As the hours go by, the more the thoughts start to pester her, distracting her, and causing her to put transmission fluid into a coolant reservoir instead of radiator fluid, a rookie mistake that she makes Bear fix. Not able to contain the whirling thoughts any longer, she stomps down to the Parts Desk, pulls Jess—the only employee at V's Garage also involved in Vasiliev's Garage matters—into the office, and lets the contents of her mind spill out, akin to releasing the drain plug on the oil pan.
"You're joking right?" Jess asks with a frown. "I can't tell if you're joking."
"It will be fine," Villanelle says, pacing around the office in a navy-blue jumper. "I'll take her for a joyride, she'll see it's not that special, then it'll be done. It's like a roller coaster or something. You do it once then you get bored."
"Except some people don't get bored," Jess points out. "They want to do it again. Then again and again."
"Eve won't."
"How do you know?"
"She's not like that," Villanelle says, shaking her head, sure of this. She anxiously wanders back and forth across the room.
"Villanelle, how can you be so sure?" Jess presses her.
"Because she's not," Villanelle snaps, hoping to end the conversation there.
Jess gives her a stern look, clearly disagreeing with this plan, though it seems there's not much she can say to deter Villanelle. She gathers up a stack of order forms from the desk, walks past Villanelle to the door, and mutters, "That's what you thought about Nadia."
"That was different," Villanelle growls. "She was different. She was already in it."
"I doubt she sees it that way," Jess says, pausing and turning in the doorway.
Villanelle scowls, about to lose her temper, the mention of Nadia's name flipping a switch inside, a switch that is normally taped over.
"I don't need this from you right now," she snaps. "I'm already behind on three repairs and I have Raymond coming by later but the fuel pump still is not installed."
"Better get to work then," Jess says dryly, leaving Villanelle alone in the office.
The anger comes and goes in waves, anger from not enough sleep, from Eve knowing about Vasiliev's Garage, from Nadia and Konstantin and Dasha and Raymond. Villanelle tries to stay ahead of it, knowing it will have to be released at some point, choking it back a little while longer until an opportunity presents itself, an opportunity that has nothing to do with Eve. She vows to herself never to hurt Eve in that way again.
Returning to the garage, she ignores Hugo's eager gaze; he already asked about Elena twice this morning. Despite her obvious disregard, he follows her to the black Corvette, trailing behind her like a stray dog begging for scraps.
"Go work on the power steering for the Nissan," Villanelle orders before taking a wrench, laying down on the mechanic's creeper, and rolling under the back of the car.
"It's already finished," Hugo replies proudly, puffing out his chest. "Hoses and belts replaced. Fixed the steering rack too."
"I did the steering rack," Bear says from two lanes down.
"You couldn't just let me have it?" Hugo yells, scowling at him.
Bear disappears under a white Volvo. Hugo returns to Villanelle, standing over her legs as she works on loosening bolts on the fuel tank.
"Get away from me," she growls, sensing him there.
"Why are you so irritable lately?" Hugo asks. "Your time of the month?"
"Oh, mate," Jamie comments, shaking his head at the worst possible choice of words.
Villanelle slides out from under the Corvette, eyes filled with dark fury as she glares up at Hugo, standing above her with his hands in his pockets, quite proud of himself for getting such a rise out of her. It's too easy these days.
"Not getting laid?" he presses, Villanelle's livid expression only spurring him on. "You and Eve fighting again? When are you ever not?"
"Get away from me," Villanelle repeats, saying each word slowly, her voice quiet with rage. She wields the socket wrench, moving her eyes from Hugo's smug face to his crotch then back up to his more panicked eyes. She tightens her grip.
He scampers off before she can swing and do any damage.
Villanelle closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and slides back under the car.
xxxxx
Twenty minutes before noon, Eve sits at her desk, aimlessly swiveling back and forth in her chair.
"You have to talk to Bill about something?" Kenny asks without looking up.
Eve stops swiveling, furrowing her brow.
"What?"
"You always swivel like that when you're anxious because you have to tell Bill something," Elena comments.
"What? No, I don't."
"Yeah, you do," Elena and Kenny reply at the same time.
Kenny's cheeks flush. Elena presses her lips together in a shy smile.
Eve narrows her eyes at them, picking up on the subtle shift in energy. She'll have to ask Elena about that later.
"I don't do it every time," she mutters irritably, focusing on her computer and attempting to finish a financial performance report.
"No?" Elena asks, leaning back in her chair and watching Eve, goading her. "What were you doing it for then?"
"Important call with a client?" Kenny asks.
"No."
"She hardly ever works these days," Elena says over her shoulder, flashing Eve a smug smile.
Eve scowls at them, brow knitted together. "I have to take a long lunch, actually."
"You were late this morning."
"I'm meeting with"—out of the corner of her eye, Eve catches a woman walking through the door—"oh God."
"Oh God," Elena mutters.
"Oh God," Kenny echoes.
"Oh Christ," comes from Bill's office.
"Eve." The woman smiles sweetly, simpering almost, dressed in chic couture. Her eyes scan Eve's body, bottom to top. "You look well." Her French accent is a sound to be heard. "Elena." She nods. "Kenneth."
Kenny freezes. Elena manages an awkward nod.
"Hélène." Eve greets with an uncomfortable smile, clearly very surprised, shocked might be a better word, by her being there. She stands and brushes down her trousers. "I, uh, I," she stutters.
Hélène smirks, appearing rather relaxed, quirking a brow with amusement as Eve flounders in front of her.
Eve finally finds words but they're clumsy and clipped. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Here. Again. So soon. Right now." She struggles. "I thought that after the, uh, well, that after"—she takes a breath—"I didn't know you were coming today."
"And if you had known?" Hélène inquires, swaying her hips as she steps closer to Eve, near enough to smell Eve's perfume.
"I think I would have worn a different shirt," Eve lets out, looking down at the wrinkled blouse she threw on in a rush this morning.
"Eve." Hélène chuckles lightly. "You are so funny."
"What are you doing here?" Elena asks, getting her brain to function again.
"Bill did not tell you?" Hélène raises her brow, glancing at the door to Bill's office which is now closed. "I am opening another boutique in the city. I need a team of financial experts I can trust. I want to expand to many locations."
"Oh. Congratulations," Eve blurts. "On the new boutique, I mean. That's big. A big accomplishment. Something to celebrate."
Elena gives Eve a quizzical look, urging her to "Get it together!" Eve catches it but ignores it, focusing on how she can make a quick exit. Before she can stutter anything else, Bill steps out of his office sporting a blue tie that he was not wearing earlier. Eve clearly notices, her expression full of disapproval, but Bill rescues her nonetheless, greeting Hélène with a handshake.
"Hélène, nice to see you again." He nods. "Thanks for coming in."
"It is my pleasure," she replies, giving Eve a salacious smile.
"Had I known Eve was going to have such a hard time with words today, I think I would have told her to stay home," Bill jokes with a grin.
Elena scoffs under her breath.
"I should have," Eve grumbles, glaring at Bill before shutting down her computer and gathering up her purse.
"I am sure this will not take long," Hélène says. "After I finish with Bill, you and I can go have a late lunch?" She looks at Eve expectantly.
"I already have a lunch I'm late for," Eve says.
"Oh, really?" Bill retorts, raising his brows at her.
"Another time then," Hélène says. "Maybe drinks and dinner?"
"Sure," Eve says, flustered and distracted. "I mean no, I mean maybe, I mean"—she blows out a breath—"I just really have to go." She glances at Elena once more before navigating around Hélène to the door.
"Enjoy your lunch, Eve," Hélène calls after her, eyes going up and down over Eve's backside as she slips out the door.
"Yes, enjoy your lunch, Eve," Bill calls, heavy on the sarcasm.
xxxxx
A terribly frazzled Eve rushes through the doors of a busy, upscale restaurant, spotting Carolyn seated in the back, gazing pensively out the window as she impatiently taps her middle finger on the table.
"Carolyn," Eve says, sounding out of breath.
Carolyn looks over, regarding Eve once with her eyes.
"Eve."
"Sorry I'm late," Eve starts on an apology, "I just-"
"Sit down."
"Oh, okay." Eve slips off her purse and hangs it on the back of the chair, taking a seat across from Carolyn. "How's the Martens Group?" she asks with a smile, trying to be polite.
"I've told you numerous times it's simply Martens," Carolyn says. "You know. You're the financial manager."
"Right, yeah." Eve nods. "It's just that you have like twenty other solicitors at your firm."
Carolyn shrugs as if to say "What's your point?"
"Um, okay." Eve scoots her chair closer to the table, picking up the rolled-up napkin on her bread plate but the utensils spill out, clanging on the table. "Sorry," she mutters, quickly trying to quiet them, only making more racket before she gets the napkin in her lap with her hands clasped over it. "Um," she mutters but Carolyn's austere gaze makes her lose her train of thought.
"You asked me here," Carolyn reminds her.
"Right." Eve nods, getting her scattered thoughts back in order. "Right." They all suddenly jumble and disappear again. She blinks at Carolyn. "Uh."
"I believe you said it has something to do with your husband. Or rather that you'd like for him not to be your husband any longer."
"Yes." Eve nods. "I did. Yes. Sorry, I'm just a little on edge," she says with a nervous laugh. "Something came up at work—actually someone came up at work. A client—well she was a client, then there was a conflict of interest and she closed her account, and I thought she moved on but now she's-"
"Eve, I'm meeting you here and giving you uncompensated legal advice when I could be at the Purple Penguin eating truffle risotto so I suggest you stop dancing around it and just dive right in."
"Right," Eve repeats, apparently the only word she can get out of her mouth. "Um, okay, well, um…" She squirms in her seat. "Uh, well…uh"—she laughs nervously—"God how do I explain this? Uh, well, it turns out that…uh…that I-"
"Just say it."
"I'm gay," Eve blurts. "We're gay, my husband and I. Well, we're both in same-sex relationships. I don't know how feels about women and I'm not about to ask," she mutters out of the side of her mouth with a chuckle. Then straightens up from Carolyn's rather unamused expression. "Um, I know that I—well I don't know if—well, technically-"
Carolyn puts her hand up cutting Eve off mid-sentence. "I don't need the rambling explanation, Eve, only the facts."
Eve nods, shrinking in her seat. "Sorry."
"You slept with a woman, he slept with a man," Carolyn says.
Eve isn't sure if it's a statement or a question. She sits there silently while Carolyn waits for a response, staring impatiently, brow creased in concentration.
"Oh, yes," Eve quickly replies. "Uh, correct."
"And you were hoping to apply for divorce on the grounds of adultery yet you both engaged in homosexual relationships thus rendering that ground useless because the United Kingdom does not recognize homosexual relationships as a legitimate form of adultery in this specific instance."
"Which is bullshit."
"I agree, but we're not here to discuss the outdated Matrimonial Causes Act of 1973. That would require far more time and quality gin and we have neither."
Eve just nods.
Carolyn crosses her legs under the table, leaning back in her seat with an air of superiority, and continues, "Unreasonable behavior, desertion, and separation are your next options. You and I have known each other professionally for eight years, all of which you've been with Niko up until the spring of this year, thereby eliminating both desertion and separation leaving you with unreasonable behavior which can have the most problems arise later so my professional opinion—though I do not and will not represent you as your solicitor—is that you should and can resolve this matter by stating unreasonable behavior as your ground in your application. That your partner, Niko, is having an inappropriate relationship with someone else. I suggest you work to come to an agreement with him so that disputes are less likely to come up and then the two of you can go on your separate ways without a lengthy court case holding you back from enjoying your current relationships. However, if it was to proceed to court—and this is rather important, do you have a pen and paper in that bag?" She gestures at Eve's purse on the chair.
"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so." Eve digs around her purse even more frazzled than before, finding a pen from V's Garage and a crumpled receipt from the Korean market for wine and noodles. "Okay, ready." She clicks the pen. "Proceed."
"In a court case with unreasonable behavior, it's far easier to be on the offensive than the defensive, meaning you need to file the application as petitioner against Niko who will be the respondent," Carolyn explains. "If your case should go to court, evidence would be required along with witness testimony."
"Oh, God," Eve mutters. "Can I-"
Carolyn stands and slips a fifty euro note under her empty glass.
"Oh but we didn't order anything," Eve says, looking up at her.
"I had a gin and tonic before you arrived," Carolyn says, draping her coat over her arm.
Eve stands abruptly, knocking her knee into the table.
"Stay if you like," Carolyn says. "The salmon tagliatelle is excellent."
Eve remains awkwardly half-standing, half-sitting.
"Apply as petitioner, state unreasonable behavior, get Niko to agree, avoid a court case," Carolyn concludes. "And one more thing," she adds.
All Eve can do is nod, mouth open but not forming words.
"Do give Villanelle my best, will you?"
"I'm sorry?" Eve retorts, brow creased in confusion and perhaps indignation as the casualness of it all.
Carolyn gestures at the pen in Eve's hand.
"She's an exceptional mechanic."
Eve's mouth falls open, and she stands there, with pen and paper in hand, watching as Carolyn glides out the door, disappearing into the flow of pedestrians on the sidewalk.
xxxxx
For the last half hour of the workday, Villanelle has been trapped behind the Service Desk, watching the clock tick closer to five, as Raymond drones on and on, questioning every detail of the repair even after he had Villanelle walk through all of it with him, pointing out each new part in the engine. Villanelle twirls a pen between her fingers, restless and bored, staring at Raymond but not listening to any of the words he says. She stopped listening several minutes ago.
The bell over the front door rings, a more captivating sound.
Villanelle glances over.
Her eyes brighten.
A big smile spreads across her face.
All her attention is drawn towards Eve who walks up to the side of the desk, blatantly ignoring the short, balding man standing there.
"Hi." Eve smiles.
"Hi," Villanelle echoes.
Their eyes linger on one another for a moment, a long moment, long enough for the ticking of the clock to become noticeable.
Tick
Tick
Tick
"Excuse me," Raymond cuts in, rustling the paperwork on the desk to get Villanelle's attention. "We're not finished here. I am not satisfied with the final cost."
He turns to Eve and regards her with a single disdainful grunt. Eve creases her brow, taking offense.
"I'm sorry, can you not see that I'm in the middle of a conversation?" Raymond asks, curling his lip at Eve.
"Uh, yeah," Eve says, "but I-"
"Ma'am," Villanelle interrupts, using her formal customer service voice. "If you could please take a seat in the waiting area, I will be with you shortly. There's coffee, tea, water." She gestures at the couches, giving Eve an over-the-top smile.
Eve's brow goes up. She blinks at Villanelle, stunned and with an expression that says "Did I really just hear you say that?" She rubs her tongue across her teeth.
"Okay, thank you." She nods. "I think I'll have the tea."
"Great," Villanelle chimes.
Raymond clears his throat, noisily flipping through papers. Villanelle is forced to look at him.
"The price," he says. "Over five hundred pounds. That's outrageous and I will not be paying it."
"Repair work is really non-negotiable," Villanelle says. "I don't know of any garages that let the customers set the price."
"I want a detailed invoice of how each hour was spent working on my Corvette." Raymond sneers. "How long it took for each step of every repair, what tools were used, what parts, the manufacturers, what…"
Villanelle stops listening, eyes wandering to Eve who gets herself some tea and sits in the chair with a direct line of sight to Villanelle. She grins, letting her head fall to one side, staring at Villanelle as if admiring a work of art in a museum.
Ma'am
It echoes around Eve's head. She lets it play on repeat, starting to like the sound of it, the sound of Villanelle's formal voice. She tilts her head the other way, eyes never leaving Villanelle, entertaining herself with fantasies where perhaps she will get to be the mechanic and Villanelle the customer.
"Is that possible for you to produce?" Raymond inquires. "Otherwise, you very well might not be receiving payment tonight."
Villanelle's lip twitches. "Here is a complete list of parts for your repairs with each component listed and the cost for replacement," she says, handing him a copy from the holder behind the desk. "I can have our parts manager go over it with you, item by item, down to each nut and bolt."
Raymond opens his mouth to speak.
"And on the invoice," Villanelle continues before he can utter a word. She pulls the copy from his meaty hands. "Excuse me." She smiles with her eyes, tugging it free. "You can see, Jamie Hayward changed the air filter and installed a new chrome cover while I replaced the fuel pump and all the lines."
"That's not-"
"If you want to know how each second of every hour was spent working on your car," Villanelle carries on, "then I would have to go through our security footage and that would take a lot of time." She flashes her eyes and blows out a breath. "Hour, days, weeks…"
"That won't be necessary," Raymond replies curtly, face bunched with anger. "But I still refuse to pay this price."
Villanelle's eyes drift back to Eve who is now running her finger in circles around the lip of her cup, slowly dipping it inside to the middle knuckle. Villanelle squirms. Eve smirks, pulling her finger out, letting the warm liquid drip off, glistening on her skin before popping her finger in her mouth and sucking it clean. Villanelle's breath catches. She has to hold one hand on the desk to steady herself.
"Is this exchange unimportant to you?" Raymond interposes, snapping his head over his shoulder at Eve who quickly sits up, crosses her legs, and looks out the window.
Nothing to see here.
"It is." Villanelle straightens up, thinking of the money and the new suits it could buy. She definitely deserves a new suit. And Eve, yes, doing something special for her too. A gift or taking her out to dinner very soon. "I apologize." She returns to the task at hand. "I have a lot of things on my mind. It's been a busy week here." She forces a pleasant smile.
"It's Wednesday," Raymond says dryly.
"Yes, it just keeps getting busier and busier. Who knows what tomorrow will be like," Villanelle says with a feigned laugh.
Raymond only glares. "Well." He sucks his teeth sharply. "Since it's almost the end of the day, we're in a bit of a bind here, aren't we?"
Villanelle shakes her head. "I don't follow."
"Well I don't agree with the exorbitant cost for the repairs done on my Corvette," Raymond says with a condescending tone as if explaining to a child. "My 1963 Corvette with a split rear window. That car there that stands out from all the others." He points to the black Corvette in the garage. "See it there?"
Villanelle refuses to turn around.
"And it's nearly"—Raymond obnoxiously checks his watch, tapping the face—"five o'clock and I have more…" His lips curl to form an ugly smile. "Urgent, matters to attend to and I'd like to be getting on my way now. So what do you suggest we do, Villanelle?"
"Well." Villanelle sniffs, crossing her arms. "The final price five sixty-two, forty-seven. If you don't have the money now, the car stays here, you leave, and I lock up. Then you can come back tomorrow or the next day or whenever you can scrounge up five hundred pounds. But if you don't pay within thirty days…" She winces. "I put a lien on your 1963 Corvette, sell it for a very high price—I know how rare that split window is—then use the money to cover the costs, and maybe get a new car lift or wheel alignment system or brake lathe." She shrugs her shoulder. "Those all go for about ten thousand apiece."
Raymond scowls, furious from such a response.
Villanelle smirks. "So my suggestion to you, Raymond, is that you pay your bill now, take your car, and drive off to whatever urgent things you have to do. If they were really so urgent you would have paid and been gone already."
Eve snickers in the waiting area.
In a fit of fury, Raymond yanks his credit card out of his wallet and slaps it on the desk.
"I'll be reporting this unprofessional behavior to the manager," he spits.
"Again, that is me," Villanelle says. "So I don't think she'll mind." She takes his card with a smug grin. "Now will this be debit or credit?"
Villanelle finishes the transaction, taking pleasure in how much Raymond fumes, scribbling his signature on the receipt, crumpling the work order in his fist, and snatching his keys as soon as she sets them on the counter, sending him on his way. Eve can hardly wait until he's out the door, bounding over to the Service Desk with a bright smile, thoroughly entertained by the entire event.
"Thank you for waiting," Villanelle says. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Raymond, he is the worst."
"Oh, it's not a problem," Eve replies, sounding overly polite and breezy. "I didn't mind at all. This is a very nice garage you have here."
Villanelle narrows her eyes with intrigue, looking Eve up and down.
"My engine desperately needs servicing," Eve continues with a mischievous grin, sounding very desperate indeed. "I was hoping you could take a look at it for me," she adds, twirling a perfect curl around her finger. "I can come back later. Maybe tonight? And you could give me a tour of your garage. Show me exactly how you…uh…how you…" Her face falls, not having a way to finish that sentence. "How you…shit."
Villanelle clicks her tongue and sucks in a breath. "So close."
Eve's face flushes. She can feel the heat in her cheeks.
"What's something you do that sounds sexy?" she asks.
"Hm…" Villanelle ponders for a moment, bouncing her head from side to side, smirking wide when she finds the perfect string of phrases. "Lubricate your pistons, insert my crankshaft, power stroke and inject fuel into your engine?"
"Yeah, all of those would have been good," Eve mumbles, a pleasant shudder running through her body.
"Mm." Villanelle grins, rubbing her lips together, a rush of desire heightening between her legs.
"I'll have to keep that in mind," Eve purrs, finding her confidence again, an impish smile returning to her lips. Then she adds frankly, "By the way, you're out of Earl Grey."
"Oh." Villanelle nods, giving Eve her customer service voice one more time. "Thank you for letting me know, ma'am." She sticks her chest out and husks, "Customer satisfaction is our number one guarantee here at V's Garage."
Eve rolls her eyes, biting her lip and letting out a chuckle. Villanelle grins, very pleased with herself, thrilled to be flirting with Eve at the garage again. Feeling playful, and sleepy, she steals Eve's tea and guzzles it down.
"Hey, what the hell?" Eve protests.
"What? Were you actually drinking it?"
"Yes!" Eve glares.
"Oh, oops." Villanelle cringes a smile, trying to be cute. She tosses the empty cup in the bin. "I can get you more."
"It's fine." Eve waves it off.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it was lukewarm anyways."
"Hm, I will have to look into that," Villanelle mutters, rounding the desk to the front and leaning next to Eve, bumping into her hip with a grin. "I didn't think you were coming by tonight."
"Yeah, I just had a…uh…a weird day at work," Eve says, slipping her hand in Villanelle's pocket and tugging her closer. "I wanted to see you."
Villanelle softens. "Oh."
"And I wanted to know when our special date is," Eve adds, excitement written all over her face.
"Special date?" Hugo comments, smirking to one side as he glances back and forth between them trying to guess what exactly that could mean.
"Get out!" Villanelle snaps, pointing forcefully towards the door. "Now."
Hugo grumbles. "Get laid," he returns, slipping out the garage door and making a scissoring gesture with his fingers at Villanelle behind Eve's back.
Villanelle scowls at him.
"Well?" Eve asks, hand traveling around Villanelle's waist.
"Not here," Villanelle says, taking Eve by the hand and roughly leading her down the hall to a door between the Service Desk and Parts Desk marked "Employees Only," pulling her inside the break room. It's a small space with a couch, employee lockers, and a small kitchen.
"Hey," Eve growls, pulling her hand free from Villanelle's grip.
"Sorry," Villanelle quickly apologizes, realizing she used too much force. "Sorry, Eve. I should not have done that." She gently strokes Eve's arm.
Eve glares, crossing her arms across her chest.
"I know, I'm sorry," Villanelle says again. "But you can't talk about that here, Eve. You can't talk about it at all."
"I didn't even say anything incriminating."
"Eve," Villanelle scolds. She sticks her head on the door, glances around the halls, comes back inside, and locks the handle.
"Why are you being so weird?" Eve asks.
"Because"—Villanelle huffs—"they know about you and you know about them but they don't know you know about them so they come to me asking about you and why you come see me at my garage when you don't even own a car."
"Do they know?" Eve asks, gesturing towards the door to indicate the employees of V's Garage.
"No," Villanelle says, thinking only of the mechanics.
"None of them work for them?" Eve asks.
"No," Villanelle repeats, starting to pace around. "That's what I mean. They don't know and they can't know because if they knew that they know then they would come after me and you and them until they knew for sure that nobody knew out them."
Eve opens her mouth to speak but only utters, "Uh."
Villanelle sighs, falling onto a tattered plaid couch as if this is the most tiring conversation she's ever endured. "Eve, what do you not understand?"
"Well you kind of lost me at that last part but-"
"No one is supposed to know about my work at Vasiliev's Garage, but you do and that's already bad enough. I can't let the guys here find out. It would ruin everything. The whole system. No." She waves her hands, jumping to her feet. "It can't happen."
"We can just come up with code names or something," Eve suggests, choosing to disregard Villanelle's seriousness. "You like Top Gun, you can be Maverick and I'll be Goose."
"You know what happens to Goose!" Villanelle snaps.
"Okay I'll be Iceman then," Eve says. "No wait, Cougar." She cackles at her own joke. "Eh, but he cracks under the pressure so Iceman it is," she concludes, sidling up to Villanelle with a grin. "What do you say, Mav?"
"Eve," Villanelle growls with vexation, about to launch on another lecture of the dangers of her night job but is halted by the idea, the very tempting idea, of being Maverick. She wavers.
"I can be your wingman," Eve says with a sweet smile, running her hands around Villanelle's waist, trying to entice her.
Villanelle's brow goes up, very much liking the sound of that. A spark of excitement shines in her eyes, and she's about to give in, a second away, then resolves, "No, Eve, we can't. I shouldn't let you come with me at all." She pulls away.
The lightness falls from Eve's face.
"I'm coming with you," she demands. "That's what I want."
"You don't understand what you're getting yourself into," Villanelle raises her voice, notices, and huffs, calming herself down. "I'm trying to protect you. I want to keep you away from it. Why can't you just let me?"
"Because I can't stop thinking about it," Eve exclaims, almost as if it were a confession. "What it would be like—feel like—to steal a car, do something bad. I don't like being so in control all the time, being so, so restrained. I want to let loose, want to be wild and reckless for once and if I have to break a law or two to do it then so be it."
Villanelle runs her hands over her face in exasperation, pressing her fingers to her eyes and letting out a growl of frustration.
"Eve." She sighs, giving her a long look. "If you really want to do this-"
"I do."
"Then things will never be the same," Villanelle says. "You can never go back to how you were living before."
"I know."
"No." Villanelle lets out a laugh, shaking her head. "You don't. But you are going to find out."
AN: Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome :)
If you're enjoying this story, please continue reading on AO3 (daydreaming_out_loud). I will only be posting new chapters on AO3 from now on. It's just easier to manage/post a story all in one place.