yelena (notaposer) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-05-23 10:23:00 |
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Yelena’s mind was a busy place. In what she thought was the last twenty-four hours she’d been in New York, then on a strange college campus reuniting with her dead sister, then just as suddenly in New York but not New York with memories of her own life, a really weird toga party, and this life. It was a lot, but after years and years of learning how to handle herself in extremely volatile situations that were literally life or death? Yelena was adaptable. So when she’d found herself in a ramshackle apartment in a life that expected almost nothing of her except to exist, she’d decided it was something the universe owed her and took it with both hands. She took the majority of a day to reconcile all the memories in her head as best she could, then settled down to do the most mindless, mundane, normal thing she could think of - she created a profile on the first dating app she could find in the app store on her phone and got to swiping. It was practically an indiscriminate process as she lay on her lumpy mattress and listened to the couple next door argue. Flirt with everyone, send messages, try the whole matching thing. This was an experience her life had definitely robbed from her, and as silly as it felt at first that quickly made way for nerves. Which was stupid. Everything she’d done in life was scarier than this. Just in a completely different way. It didn’t take long before she had a meeting or two or three set up, but one person in particular had seemed as keen to meet quickly as she was. So on the second evening in this new Empire City place, Yelena was tucked into the corner of a booth in a bar called The Dead Poet. She’d done her best with what clothes were available to her - very thrift store chic, which led to an accidental retro grunge vibe. Combat boots, slightly baggy, faded denim jeans with ripped out knees long enough she had to cuff the bottoms to keep from stepping on them, a shirt made of thin sweatshirt material with a patchy tiger logo, big enough that it kept sliding over one shoulder and hid her hands to her fingers unless she kept pushing the sleeves up. Was it much of a ‘dress to impress’ outfit? Not really. Did Yelena know any better? Also not really. She also wasn’t entirely sure what the etiquette was on drinking before the other person arrived, so she kept waving off the waiter who kept coming past the booth to make sure she was okay. She did take a couple of menus and a glass of water, but both sat untouched as she turned in the booth to put her back against the wall and stretched both legs out long, phone in hand because that felt better than just sitting and waiting while staring into space. “Okaaaaaay,” she muttered to herself as she scrolled mindlessly through Instagram without really seeing anything. “Time to just… be patient, I guess. Ugh.” Hugh was not typically late. But apparently, as best as he could sort from the memories that seemed to be running parallel to each other - like a television show he had watched one way or another - Hugh Mobius Waugh-Christian hadn’t actually been out in about six months because he’d been working on his thesis and the show. And all the places in his apartment that Hugh could think of where condoms might be - weren’t. And Hugh in either universe was too fucking ambitious for chances. Even if preparation was gonna make him a little late. He took a minute outside the bar door to check the tuck on his shirt before he opened the door. It had been more than six months since he’d done something like this, actually. This universe version of him aside, it had been over a year since he’d stopped swiping on bumble or going to clubs looking for a hookup because of Marce. But also? The notion of being able to match with someone, and not have to deal with the ramifications of that in the closed circuits that were Delerth? That notion felt fucking amazing, and Hugh was really looking forward to it. Empire City was full of people he didn’t know, and even if Mobius’ timeline worked, and they stayed here, it was a much larger ocean to swim in. Once inside, his gaze swept the room for the blonde he’d chatted with on Dately. At just over six foot he was tall enough to easily gaze over a lot of the heads in the space, and after stepping in, caught sight of someone in the booth that looked promising, and headed towards her. The young man that approached Yelena’s booth was tall, with curly hair perfectly swept back from his face. Hugh’s closet here seemed to mirror his clothing preferences at home, thank goodness, although the dark jeans were a little more casual than his typical, the white oxford with rolled sleeves, a burgundy tie and a dark blue waistcoat buttoned over both was exactly what he might have picked at home. He took her in, bemused almost at the retro grunge vibe. It almost reminded him of Marceline, although Yelena herself looked anything but like Marceline, which was certainly fine. He stopped, tilted his head and offered a flash of a grin. “Yelena? I’m Hugh Christian, hopeful Air Guitar Concert attendee?” By the time Hugh arrived, Yelena had graduated to paying only the most cursory amount of attention to her phone as she alternated between turning her water glass through the circle of condensation that had gathered underneath it and watching the doorway while pretending not to be. Her nerves were just starting to give way to annoyance - an emotion that felt far more lived in than the secondary memories in her head - when someone walked through the door that had to be the guy she’d been waiting on. The instant she recognized him, the nerves surged back. Okay then, other me. Guess you get to drive this time around before I look like an actual idiot. The other memories were nice, in a way; they were like a built-in cover story that was already so complete she just had to let it flow. She supposed she’d see if she was capable of it in a situation like this one. Spotting how he was dressed, she nearly slid down flat on the bench seat in her booth because surely, she’d missed some kind of memo about what she should be wearing to meet someone like this. Before she could make the weak attempt at bailing, though, he’d spotted her. She slid to the edge of the bench and popped to her feet, realizing before he’d even made it all the way to her booth that he was tall. And better looking than his pictures on Dately, which was both a little infuriating and intriguing at the same time. She met his grin with one of her own, the laid-back ease of her Empire City self winning that battle with her normal self, though it lost the war in that she breathed a nervous laugh anyhow. “Thaaat’s me,” she answered, the two words already enough to tip him off to her Russian-accented English. She could probably have changed it, maybe tried to seem more American, but the effort seemed pointless. She floundered around with her hands for a few seconds - on her hips, then braced against her back before she gave up with a self-deprecating laugh and shook her head, offering one hand to him. “It’s nice to see you, Hugh Christian, concert attendee. You look really good,” she blurted out, mercifully unashamed by it because it simply didn’t occur to her that frank honesty was something to hold back now. Gesturing generally at him from face down, she wrinkled her nose a little before plucking at the front of her shirt. “I maybe should have done something nicer? We’ll just say… rock star?” She held up both hands in the rock and roll horns and stuck out her tongue (thank you for that one, alternate memories), then grinned again and gestured to the booth behind her. “Drink before the show? It can’t start without you, so plenty of time.” Accent. Hugh hadn't been anticipating that but it was cute regardless and he reached for her hand, and with her complement of his appearance the charming 'just met you' smile broke into authentic warmth, as he reached for her hand and shook it. He assessed her appearance before adding: "I'm a big fan of dressing for the part, and you've got some seriously hot Gwen Stefani vibes going on, so very well done. I'm expecting a fantastic show." He motioned to the booth as he raised a hand at one of the waiters nearby. "What's your drink of choice?" Sliding in across from her, there was that excited twinge of nerves. She was seriously cute, or fabulously hot, and he couldn't quite decide which category to slip her into, which wasn't a complaint. And for all they probably didn't look like they belonged on a date together, Hugh was completely unbothered by the ripped jeans and overly large sweatshirt. He reached for the menus, glancing over the possible appetizers. "Are you hungry? We could share the hummus plate, or it looks like they've got nachos." Yelena eased herself back into her half of the booth as Hugh moved to take a seat, this time sitting properly in that she was at least facing the table. She crossed her legs up under the table so a boot was underneath and propping up each knee to the point that they bumped against the bottom of the table; only after she’d gotten herself comfortable did she stop to hope that no one had been disgusting and stuck gum underneath. She tapped a laminated menu over to her side of the table but just spun it idly on the tabletop, having browsed it more than a few times while she waited. “There’s a vodka drink with raspberry that I want to try,” she mused, stopping the spin of the menu abruptly so she could lean in and find where it was. “Here! And I’m always hungry.” Generally true, but even more so here. It hadn’t taken more than a day of living a far more normal life than she was used to to realize that there were a lot of things to pay for and not much money available to her to do it. “My heart says nachos, but I like both. So your choice and I can be happy either way.” Once the waiter had come and gone - not without Yelena making sure to point out that she had, in fact, really been waiting for someone, see! - Yelena shifted to lean some of her weight on her elbows on the table, her hands folded loosely in front of her as she studied Hugh with a faint smile. “So the thing I know about you is you like dancing very much. Is that what you do?” She unfolded her hands and stretched her arms out, sliding her hands more toward his side of the table as she leaned even more forward and tilted her head to rest against her shoulder to peer up at him with her smile broadening to a teasing grin. “Do I have to worry for being professionally judged tonight and I had no idea?!” Nachos it was then, because although Hugh might have tended towards hummus on his own, he liked nachos and who was he to deny a date her heart’s desire? He ordered an old fashioned for himself, and leaned in as the waiter left so that he could admire her closer up. He grinned. “I love to dance and I am an actor, so occasionally, yes, I do it professionally. But I promise no judgment because I also just love getting out on a dance floor and enjoying music. And you can’t do that if the critic brain is engaged when you’re out there. This is no dancing with the stars audition, I promise. I’m also a graduate student, and I’m currently working on my thesis so honestly? It’s been a bit since I’ve really been able to enjoy a night out in a place like this.” Technically not a lie, although Hugh supposed he had been at parties and dancing more recently. Toga parties even. “So thank you for suggesting this,” he considered the sweatshirt and jeans, probably not actually Gwen Stefani but also it was impossible to tell from her look what she might do. “What about you? What is it you do when you’re not offering Front row seats to your concerts?” Yelena eased herself back so she wasn’t quite so draped over the table, her elbows once again propping her up on the tabletop so she was sitting more forward than a more relaxed posture would allow. She brought her hands up together under her chin and rested there, an easy smile on her face. This was easier than she’d been worried it was going to be. At least so far. “So a graduate student and already professional actor who doesn’t find time to get out very much?” She sounded suitably and genuinely impressed, though she chased the observation with a laugh and a shake of her head small enough that she didn’t need to lift herself from her perch to do it. “It sounds like you run into me just in time to keep from being way too serious,” she teased. The thanks, she waved off with a nonplussed noise and a wrinkle of her nose. “You’re welcome, but no need for thanking me. I haven’t really done this much to be honest with you.” What might have been a line for other people was the absolute truth coming from her, so much so that she didn’t even know it might read as something disingenuous. “I’m happy you said yes.” The answer to his question was complicated, but Yelena didn’t hesitate before tipping her head enough to one side that she could cup her cheek in one hand and drop the other hand to the table, fingertips tracing the grain of the wood. “Whatever I want, most of the time.” Not really a lie, but definitely an answer that probably deserved more explanation. “I work sometimes helping a friend in his repair shop. He repairs, I do the other things that need doing. But only a few days a week unless I know I’m going to be short a little.” She shrugged again, seemingly unconcerned with the thought of it. After a brief pause while their waiter returned with their drinks, she slid hers toward her and just swirled it around in the martini glass for a moment. “I make art pieces the rest of the time. Mostly paintings, sometimes sculpture if I feel like it.” Another pause while she finally took a sip of her drink, then gave Hugh a crooked smile over the lip of the glass. “I sell some, but me working for my friend probably tells you how well that goes, right?” "You've saved me," Hugh teased back, hand over his heart with a sort of mock damsel in distress pose. "However will I repay you, oh wait, I suppose I'm starting with nachos." He grinned. "Very romantic." He could have considered it a line, but truthfully considering that he was mostly looking for an evening that he could spend with someone, he wasn't very worried if it was one. It was fine, even. He wasn't looking for a forever sort of scenario anyway - married in a parallel reality was going to be a challenge to explain - and so it was just as well if she also wasn't. "The artist gig is fucking rough," he nodded. "And I would say that actors in some ways, might have it the easiest of any, if you can get the professional jobs. But even that is difficult. Right now I'm living on the Graduate Research Assistant stipend and my dad's good will. I've done a few shows, not enough to have union membership yet, but we're working on it. So, suffice to say, I have a picture. Tell me about your art? What type of paint do you prefer? Or do you have a preference? What's your style like?" Yelena met the romance of nachos with exactly the amount of seriousness she felt it deserved - with a smirk and an exaggerated roll of her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, haaaaa,” she droned, though the sarcasm of the fake laugh was punctuated at the very end by a quiet, far more genuine one that she couldn’t help. “But really, nachos are exactly the right thing to pay for having a not boring night for both of us. That should really be universal or something.” She took an experimental first sip from her drink, then chased it with a longer one when she decided it was definitely the right choice to have made. While Hugh elaborated on his work, she swiped at the corner of her mouth to catch some salt that had come off the edge of the glass and then absently scraped it off the pad of her thumb with her teeth. Her eyebrows arched up when he asked a follow-up question about her art; it was still seriously strange, having ready, true answers for specific questions like this. “Oh, you know. Rainbows and unicorns, mostly… no, god, I kid. Do you want the real truth?” She curled both hands loosely around her martini glass and pushed it forward on the table so she could lean in again, this time ducking low so it seemed more conspiratorial. “I like acrylics best and do a lot of abstracts because they can be anything to anybody. What I think while I make it doesn’t matter as much, you know? So I make games out of it when I finally get to show a piece. I never name anything so when people want to talk about it to ask boring things like method and inspiration, I see if I can figure out what they want to see.” Her grin turned mischievous as she winked and settled back, lifting the glass with both hands now to take a sip. “I do a pretty good job, I look like a mind reader. I do a terrible job, then they don’t understand my vision. No losing, so it’s a pretty good game.” With the arrival of their nachos, she abandoned her drink in favor of digging in, though she at least paused in making sure her chip had a little of everything on it to look up at Hugh while she asked another question. “So once you finish school, what do you want to do? Stay here for stage things, go west for movies? You could definitely do movies. Some of those people only look pretty and everyone loves them, and if you go to school for it? Pretty and talent.” She grinned and snapped the fingers of her free hand, then crunched into a chip. “I think that makes me sound like an agent,” she mumbled through the mouthful with a hand over her mouth for… dignity, maybe? The compromise between talking with her mouth full and actually being civilized. “But it’s true.” Nachos as universal payment for a non-boring night was the sort of thing that Hugh thought he could get into, really. And his eyes crinkled in amusement at the idea of rainbows and unicorns being the main components of her art. She was funny, and there were any number of worse attributes one could have in an evening hookup. “You know, I took one look at you and I said, there’s a Lisa Frank wannabe,” he teased as he reached for his Old Fashioned.”This feels like the sort of thing that would give me complete anxiety. Will I get it right or wrong?“ And then he laughed at himself. “Watch me give myself anxiety over whether I answer a question that doesn’t have a correct answer, incorrectly.” He had to pause with the nachos' arrival, and then he leaned in as well. “I love your philosophy though.” A nacho was had, making certain he got one that had a delicious looking black olive, and then he took a bite while he grinned. “Maybe a little like an agent, which, you know, if you’re looking for a client… But um, no more seriously, both. I love the stage, there is nothing like a show with an audience, the energy of it, the way your shows shift just subtly in conversation with that audience. It’s never the same, and you can’t just get tired and quit halfway through and it’s exhilarating and challenging. But I do want to do film. It’s challenging in a different way. You can be in one scene for hours, and you have to maintain the emotional energy of that scene which can be really exhausting. But it is also more permanent, and I love film as a medium too. Right now I have to get through school, then I’ll see which options look most likely.” “Ahhh,” Yelena crowed like she’d learned something useful, sliding a mostly naked chip out from under the rest of them so she didn’t make a mess pointing it in Hugh’s direction to emphasize her thought. “You worry about what strangers think. You shouldn’t, you know.” Just like that, like it was as easy as scooping guac and sour cream off the top of their stack of shared nachos. Which she did. “You do a play, for example, and the people you know will love you no matter what and the people you don’t will maybe judge you, sure. But they’ll forget as soon as they find the next thing to feel superior about. It’s like yelling about sports games on the television like you know how to play but all you do is sit on couch and drink beer. Everybody forgets they were mad by the next one.” She shrugged and ate the full chip in one bite, pausing just long enough to chew so she wouldn’t have to mumble around the entire mouthful. “So fuck what they think, you know? Just assume everyone thinks you’re the best. It’s easier.” She chased the nacho down with another sip from her martini glass, noting how low she was getting already before she kept picking at the nachos while Hugh answered her question. Once he was finished, she bobbed her head in a nod and looked up from the food to him. “Either way, I’m excited to see what you do. So I can be like - “ She affected a shocked look with one hand on her cheek and the other pointing at an imaginary screen or stage - “‘Oh my God I know him!’ and everyone I know can be - “ She dropped her hands to the table again and shot a withering look to the side - “‘Shut up Yelena you know you don’t’.” And then she grinned again, dropping the affectations. “But I know better than they do.” After a brief pause to choose her next nacho, she wiggled her eyebrows and tapped the fingertips of her free hand on the tabletop. “About your concert, though. Do we go to the park so I can embarrass you playing air guitar on the rocks in front of everybody? Because I will. And I’m going to make you do it too, you know.” She snapped the corner of one of the chips off with a showy little bite so she wasn’t chewing through the way her grin went a little wicked. “Just for fair warning, so the duet isn’t a big surprise.” Hugh ducked his head with a quick smile. “Guilty as charged,” he told her. “I do care, and you’re not wrong about any of the rest of it either.” He reached for a nacho, the whole conversation settling like a deja vu. She wasn’t the first woman to tell him that either. Not even the first woman in ripped up jeans to tell him that. “You’re particularly right about me being the best,” he quipped easily with a sassy grin before he popped the black olive covered goodness into his mouth. Nacho chased with drink, and then he grinned. “Park, obviously, and I don’t care about being embarrassed in front of everyone. In fact, if we get a crowd, I say we put a hat out and let the tip us. Maybe we’ll make back our drinks and nachos. There’s a park around the corner isn’t there?” He was reaching for his phone, pulling out the map, and enjoying the fact that damn, he could reach into his pocket and his phone actually connected to an internet and streamed things like videos and music, and if they wanted to pull up nearly anything to air guitar too they could. “There is, in fact, one around the corner. Do you want to move onto the next part of the evening?” Yelena knew for sure there was a park nearby, because she’d suggested this bar for that very reason. She let Hugh look, though; it was probably best to let him confirm the fact that she wasn’t about to lead him into some weird alleyway and rob him (though after a second though, she realized that worry probably worked in reverse for most people - but he didn’t seem the type to try robbing her and he’d be pretty sorry if it turned out he was). Besides, while he was looking at his phone it was open season on what remained of their nachos. She made surreptitious but quick work of the ones closest to her that still had goodies she could scoop onto the chips, and was just polishing off the last of her drink with an exaggerated backward tilt of her head when he returned his attention to her. “Yes,” she confirmed emphatically, settling her empty glass down on the table after a flourish. “I would. Because it would be a horrible concert for us both if I drank too much and fell off rocks. Nobody ends up in the hospital tonight.” She grinned and propped one elbow up on the table, all of her fingers except her pinky curled in toward her palm. “I swear it.” Once their pinkies were hooked, she leaned over the table and kissed her own thumb, then twisted her hand around so she could loosely grab his wrist as she slid out of the booth. She let go once she was standing - holding on too long felt like it might be too overfamiliar and weird - and dug in her pocket for some cash to toss on the table. Former rent money, current nacho money. She’d figure it all out later; it didn’t occur to her to just let Hugh pay. Once everything was settled and they were on the sidewalk en route to the park, Yelena struggled not to let her shoulders hunch up while she tried to decide what she ought to be doing with her hands. After scolding herself to just walk and quit worrying, she relaxed a little… then suddenly dipped into her right front jeans pocket with one hand. “You should feel so special,” she began with a grin up at him, veering a little so she bumped one shoulder into his arm before she corrected her course and held up the little case that held her wireless earbuds. “I remembered to charge these and everything to make sure you get the whole experience.” The warmth and connection was nice, and Hugh rarely turned either down from someone who was fun and he was enjoying spending the evening with and Yelena fell into that category. He added some money to that on the table. He would have paid, his bank account in this world might not be flush with funds, but it seemed similar enough to the world he remembered from home. A night out, and paying for a date's drinks, wasn't going to break it. But some women weren't comfortable with it, and when it was another man it tended to vary equally he felt. As they exited the establishment, he fell into step beside her, and bumped her shoulder lightly with his arm, really, because he was a lot taller than she was. "So do you have a preferred set list or is this a I'm making it up as I go along - whatever the mood strikes?' sort of deal?" Yelena let his nudge veer her course sidelong with one dramatic step, then overcorrected even more so she was walking backwards beside him when she arrived at his side again. She couldn’t manage it long - even walking slowly he was going to outpace her with as much height as he had on her - but it made it easier to look at him in the space it took to answer his question, her excitement palpable enough that she practically skipped backwards. “It’s kind of both, actually. When you ask for a concert I take things veeeeery seriously.” She tried to affect her expression to make it look like the truth, but she couldn’t help but smirking and gave up almost immediately. “Really though, I made a playlist.” She tapped his arm gently with her phone, then dug her heel in on the next step back so she could spin around to walk normally again. “It’s longer than we’ll probably want to stay in the park, so. That’s where the mood striking part happens.” She tucked her earbuds back in her front pocket and her phone in one of her back ones, then shoved both of her sleeves up past her elbows. “The only thing I really know is we end with The Who so I can try to be impressive with the windmill arms.” Whether it was wise of her or not to give a preview of what was to come, she did - imaginary guitar at the ready, she stopped dead in her tracks to do her best brief impression of Pete Townshend, stance wide and arm swinging in a near complete circle before she pretended to strum. Demonstration over, she moved even with him again and linked an arm through his without much thought to it, which was definitely a move from this new set of memories. “But that’s on the condition that you’re on stage with me to be the singer. I know that isn’t how concerts are supposed to go, but I think you have very big potential. We’re either going to get standing ovations from everybody or they’ll all think we’re drunk, but either way - good time, right?” "As you ought to," he teased, pleased even if she was only half serious about taking it very serious. "A playlist is definitely like a glimpse into someone's soul." And he was only partially teasing as he tended to take someone's music and film choices rather seriously. What did you like? You would probably get judged on it, even if it wasn't something Hugh would do out loud. He paused, watching, and when she stopped he stepped forward, which made her linking her arm through his feel absolutely natural. It was warmth and definite interest. "I think it's our concert, we can dance any steps we want," he quipped, the Strictly Ballroom reference slipping off his tongue naturally. "So we do what we want, and everyone will love us, or … if not - what was it you were saying earlier about not paying too much attention to what people think? We'll love us, and that's the important part." He paused, gaze shifting to the park ahead and with a grin, he dropped her arm, but it was only so he could slip his fingers through hers - something he'd been wanting to do since he sat down across from hers - and tugged. "Over there, that's the rock, I can sense it, see how it's got a bit of height, but it's almost flat on top? That's our venue, and it's perfect." For a half second, Hugh wished he had his brother's, well, Eliot's magic, so he could wave fingers into a magical spotlight, but they'd have to make do with the light from the moon. "Figure out your first piece, gorgeous, cause it's show-time." “Yesssss,” Yelena crowed in victory when he seemed to have taken her earlier advice to heart - at least about this particular situation, but that was start enough. Her excitement about it was enough that her steps took on an extra bit of bounce for a few strides before she leveled out and just gave him a grin instead. “We’ll love us and they’re crashing into our concert anyway if they watch, so they should just be glad for a free show or find some other part of the park to walk in. It’s big, there’s space. They can leave us in ours.” She was about to open up some space between them when he dropped her arm only to be caught by the hand before she could, and while it was unexpected she didn’t flinch away from it. It was nice, actually; she was already starting to see the appeal in doing things like this despite all the horror stories the Internet would have her believe happened. Maybe she’d just gotten lucky. And it was about time, too. “You’re totally right, that’s the spot.” Rather than backing down now that the moment was nigh to put up or shut up on just how shameless she was willing to be in public, the spring returned to her step until she was laughing and practically pulling him with her at a jog as the neared the rock in question. “Okay. This is for you.” She drew the earbud case out of her pocket again and offered him one, then plucked the other out for herself before pulling her phone from her pocket to study the screen intently. After a little bit of scrolling she found a song to start on and decided the rest could be left to the luck of the shuffle. Before she leapt up into place on the rock, she gestured grandly to the grass just in front of it. “The VIP section, Mister Hugh Christian.” Once atop her makeshift stage, she paused just long enough to hit play on her phone and the performance was on. It didn’t start with the song that had brought about this meetup - though that was the third song up, so clearly it had made it to the playlist. Yelena seemed to have covered a wide swath in making the playlist; some Guns ‘N Roses for the Slash dramatics into Red Hot Chili Peppers for… well, more dramatics but of the John Frusciante variety, and finally into the Weezer song. After that one, which ended up being a wild mix of lip syncing, dancing, and the guitar all in one, she laughed breathlessly and jumped down off the rock to hold both of her hands out to him. “All right, enough of just me, it’s time for the audience participation.” For the first time since starting, she glanced around - they’d accumulated some onlookers, but most were at a distance so they weren’t being terribly obvious about it. It was fair, she supposed, since she had been flailing around, at points on her knees or laying back, to something none of them could hear. “Big finish, come on!” Hugh took the other earbud and found a space to sit down on the grass, grinning. The music that played wasn’t his music, really. Sure he had some electric tastes, and probably if you were to dig into a decades worth of music collection in his iTunes, you’d find a little bit of everything, but he tended more towards pop and show tunes than straight out rock, even indie rock, but that didn’t mean that he was any less appreciative. Sure, it might look a little strange and his applause might have garnered the stares of some park goers, but that was part of the fun, and Hugh was enough of a performer to, so long as no one was irritated by it, enjoy the show. He hopped to his feet gracefully, maybe a little less gracefully than he might typically because he could tell he didn’t have the same dance skill set in this world as he normally had, and he reached up for her hand. “The Who, yeah? Is someone recording this for my audition to play Roger Daltrey in the Biopic?“ Yes, people were watching, but he was ready. (Admittedly it might look a little less strange if they had an actual boom box with actual speakers even if it might also be a little more annoying to everyone in the park). “Start us off, darling, let’s give them the best of shows.” Yelena’s eyes practically lit up when he asked if someone was recording - she knew it was a joke, but considering the fact that they had a little bit of an audience, it wasn’t a terrible idea in all seriousness. She pulled her phone from her pocket and thumbed the pause button, then held her other hand up to gesture for him to hold still. “Be right back, quick intermission!” She hopped off the rock and jogged leisurely over to a couple that was sitting a fair enough distance away from them. She’d heard a laugh from this direction so while the two probably had some plausible deniability about whether they were in fact watching, she suspected they had been. “Hi!” Met with polite smiles, she held her phone out to them. “Would you mind doing me a favor really quick and record the big finale? I’d really appreciate it.” The pair exchanged a glance before the girl reached for her phone, which Yelena handed over without hesitation. “Don’t run away with it,” she added with a resigned sigh - not for the prospect of losing her phone, but of what she’d have to do to one of them if they tried it. “It’s super old anyway, you don’t even want it.” She ran back to Hugh with a little more speed, relieved when she heard the couple getting up behind her to move a little closer for a better vantage to film. “Now someone is.” She sprang back up onto the rock, then realized she had one more request for the couple. “Uh… could you hit play? Thaaaaanks!” Seconds later, the opening chords rang out in their respective earbuds and Yelena picked up her performance with just as much, if not more, gusto as before. After a couple of minutes of her best Pete Townshend impression, propeller arm and all, the song ended and she held up a hand for Hugh to high five, once again laughing breathlessly. “Send this in and you’ll have the part for sure.” The couple she’d tasked with recording them walked, clearly amused but not quite sure what to make of the two of them, up and handed her phone back. “Oh my God did you get the whole thing? That was so much longer than I remember, you’re the best. Really, like you could have thrown the phone down and given up after like a minute.” With her phone safely in hand again, she turned back to Hugh with a bright smile. “So what do you think? Not so bad for a ticket you pay for in nachos?” Hugh paused as she ran off. Where was she...? But then it was obvious and he couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. It was adorable, and he gave a friendly wave to the couple as he waited for her to return and then joined her. Hugh hadn’t watched a Who music video since high school when one of his friends had gone through a phase, but he did his best imitation of Roger Daltrey, joining Yelena for some rather enthusiastic moves, and grinning as they finished. “Thank you so much,” he called to the couple and he turned his attention back to the blonde in front of him, a little out of breath but completely having enjoyed himself. “Brilliant,” he told her with a giant grin. “Best concert I’ve been to in years, best seat too,” he stepped forward and reached for her hand to tug her in a little bit closer. It had been, well, maybe not so long in Empire City life memories, but in Derleth memories? It had been weeks since he’d had this much fun. And it was a reminder of just how much he’d missed the freedom of grabbing drinks with someone and taking them out. And admittedly it had been a while since he’d done that … even before Derleth. “I want to kiss you,” he told her, bringing one hand up to push blonde hair back from her face. “And then I want to take you to my place and give you a private event. What do you say?” Once they’d been left to their own devices on top of their improvised stage and Yelena had a second to recover from the thrill of what had been an unquestionably exuberant performance, she felt an immediate pang in her gut that felt like… regret, in a way. While she’d been trained in the Red Room and sent out on missions no one, much less someone her age, should’ve been tasked with, other people got to do this? The regret started to twist into a knot of resentment, but thankfully it didn’t have time to pull itself tight into directionless anger before Hugh tugged her closer to him and her thoughts derailed so thoroughly they ended up on an entirely different track. So what did she say? “Ohhhh.” It was quiet, and breathed out almost like she was having a revelation while that knot in her stomach dissolved completely and turned itself into nervous butterflies. This wasn’t exactly unexpected - it’s what the Empire City half of her memories had hoped for, cute as he was - but the other memories were telling her she was in uncharted waters. It figured: stone cold when it came to assassinations, a jittery mess in a normal adult situation. Thankfully, that part of her was just as skilled at shoving nerves down, so she did. Her smile was a little more subdued as she stepped in closer, the corners of her mouth ticking slightly upward a couple of times before she truly managed to put the whole thing together. She slipped her index and middle finger between two of the buttons of his waistcoat to keep herself close, letting the sweep of his hand pushing his hair back tilt her chin up so she could look at him. “Okay. To both.” While she did her best to make the acceptance sound casual, she couldn’t help the fact that she looked pleased enough that there was some color creeping into her cheeks from it. Always one to deflect, the smile shifted into more of a smirk as she gave his waistcoat a gentle tug and winked. “I knew I’d get you with The Who. It’s like guaranteed even if you don’t really like them.” Her fingers slipped in under his vest and undid any nervousness Hugh might have felt about asking, and he did still always have a bit. But she was moving in, and accepting his proposal for the evening, and he slipped his hand up against her jawline, a grin at her wink. “Oh yes, definitely The Who,” he agreed, bemused, as his gaze dropped to her lips for a second before he leaned down to give the accepted kiss. Gentle, feather light at first, so she could pull back if she changed her mind, but if she didn’t he would deepen it, slip a hand around her waist to pull her into him. In a way she wasn’t wrong about The Who. He liked the way she’d shown up enthusiastically taking full responsibility for the possibility of the evening with her playlist and her earbuds and yes, The Who. She had gone all in on the suggestion, and it appealed: Straightforward confidence nearly always did. Before Hugh even leaned in, Yelena slipped her fingers from between the buttons of his vest to instead slide her hand from his elbow up to his shoulder to rest with her fingers curled just enough that it was a subtle encouragement of his initiation of the kiss. She didn’t pull away, but she certainly indulged herself in a second or two of overthinking things: was she standing right, did she need to be doing something to better account for the height difference that was more than tilting her chin up, what if he hated it and changed his mind. No sooner had the thoughts started to race in her head than they were gone, swept aside by the hand at her waist as she was drawn in closer to him. At some point in those few moments her other hand had found a loose grip at his bicep, but now that she was nearer she slid that hand up to and over his shoulder, keeping herself anchored so he wasn’t the only one doing the work of keeping them close. Once they’d parted, Yelena ducked her head in an effort to hide a small, bashful smile before tipping her head back again to give him a more sunny one. “Okay okay,” she teased warmly, nudging a very loose fist gently against his shoulder. “You’re good at that too. Lead the way? The private afterparty thing, that’s always the most fun part. So we should get to that, I think.” Anticipation created shivers as her fingers found his arm, and slipped up against his neck, and Hugh pulled back a little breathless. “It’s a short drive back to mine, but the car isn’t far,” he slipped his fingers down into hers, tugging her back in the direction of the bar. “And on the way you can show me which songs didn’t meet the set list cut.” |