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[open And we keep waiting to be seen, right?

who: Illya Kuryakin & you
what: just a general catch-all
when: End of April and beginning of May
where: around the city shopping, gym
warnings: will add if needed

1; around

Illya doesn’t get out much.

It’s not being in a strange place, in a strange world full of strange people with futuristic technology. Or… rather, even though he has to admit that’s kind of getting under the skin, it’s not just that. He’s just used to keeping to himself, to doing things on his own and only relying on his boss to give him his orders and trust Illya will know what to do.

In here it’s different. In here he doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t have to keep in the shadows and become a shadow himself. In here he can get out and try to be a normal person. Or at least do his best to look like one, since the most people know about him is a fake name and his claims that he was a rowboat champion before he ended up in this place.

So there’s probably something… calming, in just doing normal things. Grocery shopping, checking out nearby libraries, just stopping at a park and watching the animals go by. It may seem boring to most people, but to Illya is kind of refreshing to be able to do all of this without a weight on his shoulders. He figures it will get boring eventually, but for now he enjoys his newfound freedom.

Enjoying it so much he doesn’t even notice the orange firefly circling him.

2; gym

It does get boring eventually, even with all the shenanigans going around.

Illya is used to physical exertion, to being active and working out as much as he can, as much as he’s healthy. Back home he needed his body to be in peak condition, to be able to fulfill every mission as fast as efficiently as possible. Most of them ended up with him running away or towards something, after all. But in here his job, while more interesting than what he had assumed when it had been assigned to him, doesn’t require much more than a inquisitive mind and knowing where to look, what questions to ask.

He really misses the exertion. So after asking around and getting some advice he’s finally decided to join a nearby gym.

He can be seen running himself ragged on the treadmill, doing weights or basically using every single machine he can find his hands on. Yay technology. Obviously not all on the same day, he’s stubborn but not suicidal… but someone should probably tell him to slow down.

3: OPEN option! Go wild. Poke me on DM or over at

crotalus if you want a specific thread!

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Illya rises an eyebrow, because ‘cold and focused on the job’ is pretty much how he’d describe himself and consider it a source of pride. He’d never consider it something to judge her for, and particularly not after all they have shared in such a short time. Thing is, and he’s probably aware his perception is probably biased because of the firefly’s poison, he doesn’t think she’s really that cold.

To-the-point, sure. Blunt as well, and extremely practical. But no one who worries so much about being rotten, who suffers so much because they were left alone by people she trusted could be really as cold as she’s implying she is.

“I have always been alone.” He says, and it’s clear in his eyes that he regrets it as soon as it’s out of his lips. But just because he’s shared that it doesn’t mean he has to share more, so he’s quick to firmly close his eyes and look away. He reaches to fiddle with his watch, just… trying anything to keep himself from blurting out anything else.

"That can't be true." She doesn't say it because she doesn't believe him. She says it because she doesn't want it to be true. Being good in their line of work means cutting yourself off from people, yes, but they didn't start out that way. He had a family, a mother, a father. He remembers the man going to prison, so he remembers him. That means he had something, doesn't it?

His fingers on the watch displace hers, but she leaves them resting on his forearm. He's alone because it's the job, but he wasn't always the job. Not like her.

“It is.” He replies just as easily, because it is true. But he wishes he hadn’t said that, and he wishes she hadn’t answered- she couldn’t know, just like he couldn’t have known when he stumbled into her past by accident so he can’t be angry at her. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be angry at the situation, at how the vulnerability he’s worked to protect is being forcefully pried away from him and he can’t stop himself.

“Once my father left, my mother had to work to feed me. To maintain me. She died shortly after.” Unless she asks directly and in a way Illya cannot avoid but answer he will absolutely not talk about his mother’s job. “I was recruited very young, they made an exception for me because I showed promise.”

He licks his lips.

“I accepted, because they told me it would clean my father’s reputation. It would make my mother proud. Every time I hesitate, every time I need encouragement, they remind me of my father.”

Natasha realizes very quickly the mistake she's made. She also knows that once you start sharing something, it won't stop. It has to just happen, work its way out of you, and then the urge will subside. Except it doesn't seem to be working for Illya. He keeps talking, keeps talking, licks his lips and looks like he wants to stop, and then keeps talking. How long has he held this all in, that it's so desperate to get out now?

She reaches up, covers his mouth with her hand to stop him. He doesn't want to be telling her, this, and she doesn't-- Well, no. Strange thing is that she does want to hear it. She wants to help. She also wants him to want to tell her. He should have a choice in something this personal. It feels like stealing, taking it this way. Which shouldn't give her a moment's pause. She chooses to blame the bug. She's going to blame the bug for all of this.

He keeps talking because there’s a lot to talk about, there’s a lot to share. He’s kept so much hidden from everyone that now that the truth has found an outlet it doesn’t seem to want to stop any time soon. He looks up at her with clear appreciation in his eyes, glad she seems to understand he would hardly be sharing all of this if it was up to him… but it doesn’t seem to be working.

Because even though it’s barely understandable, even though it’s muffled and through her fingers, he goes on.

“In my last mission, I made a mistake. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. My handler told me if I wasn’t careful… I would end up like my father.”

Most people probably wouldn't have a clue what Illya is saying, with their hand pressed firmly to his mouth to muffle the words. Natasha is not most people, though. She's picking up on the vibration of the words against her fingers, the general length and hard consonant sounds of each word, hell, even the movement of his lips against her palm. She can't pick out every word exactly, but she still knows what it is he's saying.

His look of gratitude is matched by her look of mild despair. She's sure he'll be sharp enough to pick up on what's not being said. 'I can still understand you.'

Still, no sign that he'll be stopping any time soon. Her next move is another gamble of instinct, but, well, she does have a very particular skill set. There are things that she's remarkably good at, and some of them have the dual benefit of being unerringly distracting. Illya has to be honest, but that doesn't mean she can't make him react honestly to something else.

So she pulls her hand away from his mouth, runs it around the back of his neck, and yanks his head down to met hers, lips crashing together. When his mouth opens automatically to speak, she sweeps her tongue into it, quick and agile and almost playful. Free hand through his hair, nails rough against his scalp, an assault on the senses.

He doesn’t look any less grateful, he didn’t think that was going to work. He regrets not stopping her before, when she was the one talking but it all just happened so fast it didn’t even occur to him to try to stop her. At least she didn’t look mad at him, or like she blamed him for asking the wrong questions but this situation is extremely fragile. Saying the wrong thing, confessing to the wrong truth and it could have exploded in this tiny elevator. Hell, they were fighting just a few moments before, if either of them had really wanted to hurt the other they would have. But they seem to be okay.

He’s getting ready to confess even more- he really does have a lot inside of him- when she… well. Starts kissing him, out of the blue. He’s not dumb, he can understand what she’s trying to do and it’s honestly quite an efficient way to shut him up. He takes a second to process what’s really happening here, and decide on how to react. But she’s kissing him with such intensity there really isn’t much he can do.

He tilts his head to get a better angle and kisses her back with all he’s got, reaching to place a hand on the back of her head to pull her closer.

This has been the strangest hour of her life in this place, and considering that she's fought flaming wolves and flying monsters, that's really saying something.

Her gamble is paying off, though. The way his tongue is moving against hers, he's not trying to speak any more. It's also quite a nice kiss. He's strong, which she knows, but feeling it like this is very arresting. His hand on the back of her head, hers on his neck, it's easy to pull herself up against him, and it makes relaxing into him a bit easier on herself.

The urge to share, to be honest, it doesn't come as words. It comes as a contented hum low in the back of her throat as she slides her arm more fully around his neck now that she's closer to eye level with him. At least this is a truth she already knows. His reaction to their fight was fairly straight forward. This doesn't feel like stealing an insight into his mind unfairly.

He knows why she’s kissing him, it was very obvious from the beginning and he didn’t even consider other options. She’s a good person, and the fact that she’s going to such lengths so someone she literally just met doesn’t share anything he doesn’t want to share is proof of that. Illya will not insist if she reacts badly to it, but that’s his current opinion on her.

...She’s also a really, really good kisser but he’s absolutely not surprised by that fact. He’s doing his best not to take advantage of the situation but to be fair, she is the one using her tongue like her life depends on it. He lets out a soft, pleasurable kind of sigh, still having the urge to let her know the truth. And apparently that includes letting her know he’s enjoying the kiss.

He eventually licks her lower lip and bites it gently. Mostly because he can’t stop himself.

The situation is taking advantage of them. They're both just trying to hold on to anything that will let them survive this.

If their staggering size difference was apparent during the fight, it is absolutely glaringly obvious now. He completely engulfs her when he pulled her close. It's actually kind of nice. Not that she would admit to that, and she won't have to. She won't have to admit to anything as long as she keeps kissing him.

So when he bites her lip, she doesn't rethink the wisdom of this, or try and decide if he's reading more into it than she intends. She doesn't consider stopping so that they don't reach a point they can't come back from. She doesn't try desperately to brainstorm any other tactic that will keep them from talking. She just groans, a low and throaty sound, and bites him right back. Her fingernails sink a little deeper into the skin of his neck, her teeth into his lip, and it feels far better than she thought it would.

Illya doesn’t even consider if she’s reading more into this than she should, because even though they have only had one conversation that was forced into them he knows Natalia is way, way smarter than that so he isn’t worried. He figures he can enjoy this for what it is: a really good kiss. It happened to come because of a bad situation, but as far as Illya sees it that’s no reason for him not to enjoy it.

He may be slightly repressed and he has a tendency to deny himself things like these, but he’s no dummy. If the opportunity arises he isn’t going to push it away from his arms. But at the same time he’s not going to take advantage of this so as soon as she gives him any kind of signs that she wants to pull away, he will.

But those are not the signals he’s getting. He hisses out in pleasure when she digs his nails into this skin. He pulls her back into his own lips, his tongue meeting hers as he tilts his head and tries to familiarize himself with every curve in her lovely mouth. It’s been a long while since he’s kissed anyone this passionately and he’s beginning to worry because she’s a little too close to his lap for comfort.

She'd probably laugh if she knew what his concern was right now. For two reasons. The biggest reason is, of course, that it means he's far enough away from the painful confessions of his family if his focus is on his dick again. A secondary reason, but still funny, is that he's already been hard once, and in far more societally questionable circumstances. Getting an erection because someone you're sexually attracted to is trying to suck your soul out through your mouth, that's got to be far more universal than having the same reaction when that person is trying to break your kneecaps.

That's not on her mind, though, not her concern. She's worried about his impulses, and the lack of control he's currently experiencing. She pulls her mouth away from his, but not her body, nipping at his bottom lip, pecking the corner of his mouth, before moving in to kiss him again. After another thirty seconds or so, she pulls back a tiny bit like she did before, takes a breath, flicks the tip of her tongue against his teeth and then pulls his face to hers again. The third time she pulls back it's to take a quick nip at the tip of his tongue, to sink her teeth harder into his bottom lip.

She's very aware of the effect she's having on him. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't working her up again, too. That's not the point of it, though. Each time she pulls back, it's a test. He doesn't try to speak, and when she brings her mouth close again, he's right there waiting and eager to kiss her. He won't try and talk again. Whatever was fighting to get out of him, it's passed.

That's the thing that makes her truly pull back. She doesn't move off of his lap, doesn't let go of his neck, but she puts enough distance between them to properly see his face. There's a question in her eyes, wondering if it's better, if she's right in her assumption that it's passed. Her fingers continue to scratch unthinkingly against the nape of his neck, and it takes her a moment to catch her breath. She's not sure what they're going to end up doing to each other if this situation doesn't break soon. She opens her mouth to share her concern, and it feels different. "I-- You're a hideously ugly person." The second the words are out of her mouth, her whole face lights up, utter elation in every molecule of her being, and when he laughs, she smacks his chest. "I can lie to you! Lie to me."

Illya is hardly full of himself, and anyone who spends enough time with him learns he’s full of insecurities inside. But he also takes good care of his looks and he knows it pays off, and even though the kiss was obviously happening for a certain reason he still has had enough signals over the course of this conversation to know she’s definitely attracted to him- physically talking, anyway. So of course he lets out a small startled chuckle when Natalia tells him that particular lie. It’s good news, definitely- they can probably leave the elevator now.

Or at least have a conversation that doesn’t end up with either of them sharing way more than what they meant to.

“I didn’t enjoy kissing you, and I wouldn’t do it again.” He pauses for effect, because he can be an ass when he wants to and he very much feels like it right now. And then, he grins at her.

“I suppose that will have to do. It seems like we’re free, Natalia.”

"Natasha," she corrects him, almost automatically, sitting back, and then moving off of his lap entirely. It's run its course, it's over, plenty of damage done, but that's it. No more. The things Illya knows, he knows, and she can't change that. Everything she managed to keep inside, she still has it, Laura and the kids - not that she thinks Illya could do a damn thing with it, but still, it's hers to protect, and she has.

She runs her hand into her hair, pushing it away from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. "I need a shower. That was--" She doesn't even know how she wants to finish that sentence. The beautiful thing, though, is that she doesn't have to finish it. There is no pressing need to continue to talk, to vent the truth into the world. When she bites off the thought, it just evaporates into nothing. It's an almost giddy feeling. "We should probably get off the floor."

“We probably should.”

Now that all of it seems to be done, now that they have shared as much as it’s possible to share without basically breaking each other it’s honestly hard to believe it’s all over now. That he is going to be back to being Alexei once he steps out of the elevator. It was refreshing to be himself for a little bit, but it was also frankly terrifying so as much as he enjoyed the thrill of it he can’t say he would do it all over again.

But at the same time he can’t say he regrets it.

“I’ll see you around?” He says as he stands up, already heading for the door. He’s not quite running away, but it’s definitely clear e needs some space right now.

Natasha also stands, collects her shopping from the corner it's been kicked into while Illya turns off the emergency stop. "I'm sure you will." Natasha plans on avoiding him. Maybe not forever, but this was all too much for her, too much of herself given, too much of someone else she's been forced to take on, and while she can't hate him for it, that doesn't mean she has to just accept this all and fold it into her life. She probably should. It would be the mature way to handle this. He knows things that Clint doesn't even know, though. Well, he knows one thing that Clint doesn't even know.

Still, can't change it. Could have been so much worse.

So it won't be forever, because she knows the kind of help he needs, knows the crossroads he's at. She can help there, and if nothing else good comes of this, there's that. When the doors open on his floor, she stops him with a hand on his wrist. "Thank you." For being himself, for being someone she can stomach having this kind of connection with.

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[open And we keep waiting to be seen, right?

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up to you if she understands him as he keeps talking

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