violet is very fortunate, indeed. (fortunate) wrote in theinvincibles, @ 2015-07-06 12:30:00 |
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Isaac walked straight from the showers, towel around his waist and gym bag over his shoulder, straight into his own bedroom. He had been fully expecting to see Violet still in bed enjoying her time off, but the bed was empty and the bedclothes thrown back into a semblance of ‘made’. The door closed behind him and then re-opened, this time into the main area. “Hon?” he called out, dropping the bag onto the bed and starting to pull out his clothing. “You home?” She had been still even a few moments after the sounds of doors opening and shutting announced Isaac's arrival: she was used to him appearing like a magic trick when he was free to love her, but instead of waiting to greet him, today she was spread over the length of their couch, one arm draped up and over the cushion. "Here," she called, but with the quiet and domestic inertia of come here inherent. It was apparent already by her choice of venue what surface Violet had been spending her time staring at. That was not the tone of voice he was expecting. “Everything alright?” He tossed the armful of clothes into the laundry basket and went to pull out fresh ones from the closet. Her little shrug was less answer, more rebellion, given that he couldn't see her from the bedroom, probably only had a best guess as to where it was she was sprawled. It took her another few moments to answer, this time softened, a little warmer. A little grumpier, maybe, too, in the way of lessening existential angst and offering an attitude to sidestep. "As alright as ever." Straining her gaze upwards, in the direction of the bedroom, she was lying there with head tilted uncomfortably back waiting for him when he finally stepped out. He was doing up the button on his jeans when he came into the living room. Violet, draped over the couch, stared back at him with the uncomfortable look of someone with a broken neck. Uh oh. Isaac thought back through the day, trying to remember what he could have done to piss her off. “What did I do?” he asked, trying not to look guilty. Straining, she reached up with both arms, fingers opening and closing in a remarkable rendition of grabby hands. "Nothing," her voice sounding as simultaneously taut and desperate as her stretching arms. "Everything. C'mere." Isaac traced a half-circle around the couch and took a seat at the opposite end. She was moving even before he held out a hand to help her turn to settle against his chest. “You know, I’m pretty good at solving nothing and everything,” he remarked as he pulled her in close. "That is the rumor," came Violet's muffled voice from where she'd unceremoniously buried face against shoulder, hot breath against material. It would have been more productive to put voice to whatever it was she was feeling, but she left it at that, in the grip now of his soothing arms for however many hours there were left. Until it was her turn to go out and face the world full of those dangers she'd been so neatly reminded of. He let her be, stroking along her shoulder with rhythmic fingers, his mind turning over what might be wrong. If it was anything at home, she wouldn't have been quiet about it. And if it wasn't something he did, then... "Scared?" he asked quietly. It took her another moment before she lifted her head, resting her chin on his shoulder such that they weren't making eye contact. "Maybe?" She came back, a little mocking (more of herself than him), a little faux-aggressive as if it were foolish to feel, a little dampened by his closeness and his touch. “Maybe?” was his parroted response as he raised a heavy eyebrow in her direction. He traced the notches up her spine and sighed. “You’re the luckiest woman on the planet,” he said steadily. “You’ll be fine, Vi. You’d jam the gun first.” "It's not for me," she answered, quietly, steadily, as her hands slid over his sides, warming between his back and the couch in silence. "That's true," he said lightly. "Oscar is just waiting for a chance to shoot me. But that's nothing new. The odds are no different than before Paul died." He knew it didn't help, but there was nothing he could say to help. "It feels different," she said darkly, as if spiting his black humor, the honesty about his chances that was too blunt for this couchside conversation. Her gaze leveled at the wall behind his head, her cheek pressed against the side of his neck as she repeated, "It feels different. Doesn't it feel different to you?" It did, but he didn’t want to say that aloud. Partly because he was supposed to be comforting Vi, not confirming her, but partly too was that to say it aloud was to somehow make it so. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to be. “Hard to work when you have it coming from both sides,” he said quietly, and her reply was instant, an equally quiet, "I'm sorry," that had her lifting her head, pulling back enough to look at him. It showed in her eyes, the fear, the same way the reason for the fear did. One of her hands freed itself to cover his cheek, for her thumb to hover over the line of his nose and the curve of his lip and the jut of his chin. "I'm scared," she finally told him, pathetically, returning her eyes to his own. "That's what love is, sometimes, right?" Well. That was heart breaking. He tilted his head so he could kiss her hand covering his cheek. “Yeah. Yeah,” he repeated with a sigh, his eyes downcast and distant. “But I know that even when you’re here and I’m out there… well. I know you’re thinking about me. And if you’re thinking about me, then I am pretty well protected. Fortune favors the brave, after all,” he quipped with the familiar phrase. His arms tightened around her in a slow, tight hug. Wrapped up securely in his arms, it was easier to be brave, to buck up, to tilt her head back and look up at him and murmur, "Fortune favors you all the time." Her thumb traced the line of his jaw to the blunt chin, studying it as she told him, "So you'd have to try really hard in order to get yourself into trouble." “I know,” he said casually. He held her gaze for a few moments, then closed his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought…” Isaac cut himself off, biting his bottom lip. She was touching his cheek again not a moment later, soothing, reassuring, something, questioning softly, "Haven't thought what?" Not even a beat passed before she told him, "I'm the luckiest woman in the world, you know," this time said softly, demurely, playful but with a sickeningly sweet undertone, as though she weren't talking just about powers, but about who she was sitting on the couch with. “By design, yes,” he said automatically, still a little in thought. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t realize my exposure. And that I only have so much of an ability to escape.” He fell quiet, but caught his voice again before she could try and assuage him. “But it gets us out of here for a little while. And the training is helpful. Knowing it inside and out.” It was her turn to fall quiet, to glance toward the door as if checking no one else had appeared to overhear them, a pause to put the odds on their side. "And you're careful," she chose the words, more than one meaning under their sheen. “We both are.” And they both were. In all the ways that counted. That was enough of that conversation; Violet may be good, but she wasn’t omnipotent. “Maybe we should go on vacation. Get out of their way for awhile.” She broke his invitation with a kiss, lingering and thoughtful, following the paved path of the conversation back to safety. "I'll go if you go," as simple as that. “What good would a vacation be if we both weren’t there?” he asked as he kissed her again. He smiled a little as he looked towards the kitchen. “If you’re feeling less end-of-the-world, want to make dinner? I’m starving.” "No," she told him, in a serious tone, going on only to inform him, "I thought we'd give up eating." Even as she started to pull back, to get to her feet, she labored dramatically, "What's the point anymore?" Tugging at his hand all the while as if it had been her suggestion. "Ah yes," he said wearily, letting himself be pulled. "Good call. Use it for plane fare." |