bitteraftertaste | eleven ♥ voice/spam

[Vesper sounds tired, and not particularly interested in drawing out this conversation for longer than she has to, but she's alive and in one piece so. That's something.]

Mr. Wilson and I both made it through in one piece. I don't know how much help I can be in the coming days, but if there's anyone in need of an extra pair of hands, I'm certainly willing to give it a shot.

[Spam for Bond]

[First things first: she needs to get out of this body armor.

She heads to her room and strips it off before she's even in the bathroom, and when she steps under the hot spray, she can remember another time everything had gone badly wrong when her knees had given out and she'd curled up in a ball and cried, feeling helpless and scared in a way she hadn't since her parents had died. The temptation to give in and do that now is unquestionably strong, and she bites her lip to stop herself from screaming.

Yusef had been lying to her the entire time they'd been together. How could she have been so stupid?

She stays in the shower for longer than necessary, but only allows herself a few minutes to cry, keeping her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. She's angry more than anything else, angry and suddenly furious and unwilling to let herself spend more time crying over him. She'd done that enough when he'd been taken, and when she'd been sure that her loyalty to Bond had meant his death, when in reality, they'd meant nothing. He'd been alive the whole time.

She was done. She was tired of it, tired of feeling like she needed to apologize for what happened, of not feeling like she deserved to live her life because of the choices she'd made. She wasn't going to let that happen again.

Bond had to have known. For a moment, she almost felt angry that he hadn't told her, but then she softened a little. She wouldn't have been in a place to hear it earlier, and he probably wouldn't have been in a place to tell her the news kindly.

The sudden rush of gratitude is what gets her to turn off the water and finally step out of the shower. She dried herself off, put on a fluffy bathrobe and retrieved a bottle of wine and some glasses before heading over to the cabin next door. She made herself comfortable on the sofa and poured herself a glass to wait for James.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He hates that she didn't come here for herself. He hates that her deal wasn't for her, that she could see Slade graduate and still not be able to draw a breath in the real world. His hand closes tightly on hers, and Christ, he wishes she was selfish, he wishes she'd think more of her own bloody self.

And maybe that's him being selfish, that's him being unwilling to go back to a world where she's dead when he knows he doesn't have to. James turns his hand to hold hers tightly, listening in silence, eyes locked on her face. He couldn't look away if he tried.

When she holds his face, he reaches up, holding lightly to her wrist and looking for the right words. He knows the right words, knows he should smile and repeat what he said on the beach, I think maybe that's why I love you, but when he tries to draw breath for it he can't. He can't yet.

So instead, he pulls her carefully into his lap, arms circling around her waist, and he kisses her carefully, gently, because this is just another wait to give the same answer.]

[She kisses him back a little less gently, if only because she wants to prove that she's alright, that she means what she said. It's alright, she knows why it's hard for him to make a commitment to the woman who broke his heart, even if she hadn't wanted to do it, and she can't hold it against him at all.

She pulls back a little and runs a hand affectionately through his hair.]

Thank you, for not telling me. I don't think I would have been able to hear it, earlier.

[The fact that she understands makes him think that, maybe - in the future - but he doesn't want to think on that, doesn't want to think beyond the way she feels in his arms. He doesn't want to think about how she broke his heart, doesn't want to think about the way she's been worming her way back in. He can't handle that yet, not now. But he can run his hands up her back and down again. He can lean back in his chair to smile softly up at her.]

You're welcome. [The smile fades as he kneads at her back, silent for a moment.] I'm glad I didn't. [Because he'd wanted to do it to hurt her, in the beginning. Now, well. That's the last thing he wants to do to her.]

[She manages a small, genuine smile in return, and takes a moment to just curl up with him and appreciate that they're both here and alive.

But they're sitting in a chair, and they've been through hell, and eventually falling asleep here is going to mean being sore as hell the next morning.]

Should we move this over to the bed? I imagine we both could do with some rest.

[He arches his eyebrows suggestively.] Is that what the bed's for? [But he's not particularly serious; too tired for sex is a horrible state to be in, but he'd much rather sleep with an arm wrapped around her right now. (And that should really unsettle him, shouldn't it? He let's it go, saves it for when he hasn't been up for four straight days.)

A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth.]

I would carry you, [he muses] But at this point, I'm afraid I'd drop you.

[They can make up for lost time later. Right now, sleep is definitely in both their best interests, and so she kisses him gently again before carefully levering herself off his lap and back onto her feet.]

Don't worry about it. [She's afraid you'd fall on your ass. B( And actually, keeping that in mind, she's offering him her hands.] Come on, I'll give you a hand.

[He probably will, he'll just aim for the bed. B( He takes her hand, but mostly he uses the other on the arm of the chair to push himself up. Because lbr, he doesn't think she's doing much better than him as exhaustion goes.

But he slings his arm around her shoulders when he's up, and heads for the bedroom, keeping her close. After four days of keeping Parker alive and trying not to worry about her, all he wants is to be near enough to reassure himself that she's still breathing.]

[She's not, really, so she leans into it and helps him along as best she can before letting go to pull back the covers and take off her robe before climbing into bed, letting him take the closer side of the bed in case he does just fall face first onto it.]

[Kind of her. Once she's settled he just let's himself pitch forward. It's not quite so ungraceful as a faceplant, but it's very near. He just manages to inch himself under the covers and shuck extraneous clothes before getting an arm around her waist again. He lasts maybe ten seconds after that, enough to reassure himself that he locked the door, that his gun is not far away, and that she is breathing. It's turning into a regular checklist. Then he's out like a light.]

[She makes sure the blankets are tugged up over him before cuddling up close. There's a part of her that wants to go right to sleep so she could stop thinking about Yusef and Quantum, but another part stubbornly wanted to stay awake and appreciate the fact that they were both here and safe, and they had time to just enjoy that.

The desire to sleep still won out, though, and she ends up dropping off soon after he does.]

eleven ♥ voice/spam

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