Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-08-15 18:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leon orcot, revy |
What exactly are we doing here?
Who: Leon and Revy
What: The Talk
Where: Leon's bedroom
When: Recently
Rating/Warnings: Low teenish? A naked chat and plenty of swearing because it's these two.
Leon lit a cigarette, glad for the smoke break even if he was a little disappointed that he needed to wait a few minutes until he was ready for round two; it was one of the few times he was jealous of women. But here, in smoke filled room, lying naked on his small bed with his sheets tangled at their feet, he was feeling blissfully content. He hadn’t had much cause to smile lately. His best friend was soon going to join the ranks of married couples who never hung out with their single friends. His medical examiner was a goddamn zombie who ate the brains of murder victims. After everything that had happened in New York, he was even questioning whether or not he deserved to keep wearing his badge, even though he’d never once thought of any other career (well, except briefly in high school when he was half convinced he could be a professional football player).
But here, lying with Revy, none of that mattered. The smile when he looked at Revy was subtle, but he couldn’t keep it off his face. Maybe part of that was the post-sex euphoria, but that couldn’t be all of it. Sex was a very new edition to their relationship, and this last year, she’d always been the first one he’d wanted to get drunk with when he had a rotten day. Or a great day. Or a mediocre day, for that matter.
He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with an arm, and moved to trail his hand lightly across her body. “Hey, Rev,” he said, speaking around his cigarette. “What exactly is it we’re doing here?”
This had to be the weirdest shit to ever spring from the moment she put a bullet between her father’s eyes.
What happened hadn’t been a topic of discussion since they returned. It was a silent, mutual agreement, she figured. Leon had been chosen to come along because one, he’d been the first person she had ever told about what had happened to her father in the dreams - Henry being the only second soul that knew about it - and two, whether her father was a waste of life (which he had been) or not, Leon’s protocol of ‘good will and abide by the goddamn law’ would have been a voice of reason should she raise the first gun.
Except it hadn’t happened that way.
It took a bit for Revy to understand why she hadn’t been a mess after what happened - but then again, the answer was simple, wasn’t it? It was all context. Different circumstances. Her age for one thing, from being a hardened adult compared to a fragile child who’d been violated. Knowing that she could kill him, and being prepared for the moment. Not once did she ever give a flying fuck about the blabber of fate and destiny, but -
Who knows. Maybe he was meant to die by her hands in this world too. A grim thought, but she sort of felt it to be true?
It wasn’t as if she was wallowing in her own cesspool of damaged emotions, and it wasn’t as if she was exactly heartless either. Her reaction towards it was formed by a degree of silence - she was a little more withdrawn but it didn’t stop her from smoking a lot, cursing a lot, drinking a lot.
Doing Leon a lot.
Hence their present predicament.
Revy hadn’t lit one of her own tickets to lung cancer. Laying on her stomach, skin and tattoos and scars all exposed, seemed to make her content enough. His hands helped, and one might even say there was a husky purr from the battleworn tigress.
“We’re being lazy fucks is what we’re doing,” came her literal response, half-muffled by her face pressed against the pillow.
“I would not call that lazy,” Leon chuckled, absently tracing a scar. He withdrew his hand to ash his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on his windowsill. “But that’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Was he really bringing this up? Not that he didn’t have a point, but this sort of thing wasn’t exactly a scenario she’d ever prepped for - she and Rock hadn’t said anything about their weird-as-shit arrangement, and she assumed all the times she had saved his sorry kidnapped ass and the time she’d almost come to blows with Balalaika herself (head figure of the Russians in Roanupar) for his safety, especially when he didn’t know when to shut the fuck up, spoke volumes.
Different world. Different person. Different context. Revy had to remember that.
Propping herself up a bit from the use of her elbows, she swiped the cigarette from Leon’s fingers and took a drag. “Are you asking if we’re serious or if we’re casual?”
Leon frowned to himself. These waters were new for him too. This was the first time he’d brought up this sort of conversation himself. He’d had girlfriends who had, and he’d dived right in until girls realized that their first couple of expensive dates were not something that Leon could ever really maintain because he practically worked for peanuts, and most of his extra money went straight to alcohol and cigarettes. Then they dumped him as soon as they could find some rich businessman or director who actually could afford to buy them those Prada purses.
“I guess I am,” he said after a moment. “All I know is that I don’t want to share. I can’t stand the idea of you lying in bed with some other guy.” Hell, even the thought of her sleeping with some creepy necromancer had infiltrated his thoughts at inopportune times for weeks after she’d told him, and that had been long before any of this.
Another puff, followed by a slow exhale of smoke - then she returned the cigarette, after his words sunk. “I’ve got no plans to fuck someone else,” Revy mumbled. “But if we’re going to set guidelines then I’m going to assume you’re following the same rules, right?”
Honestly, there was a sense of hesitancy when putting a label on this shit. Not because of something like commitment issues, but more along the lines that this shithead was looking into becoming a sergeant and how fucking crappy would it look on his repertoire, for his superiors to find out he was serious with an ex-con?
Leon took a drag of his cigarette and his face cracked into a playful grin. “Aw, shucks, you mean no more bimbos?” He in closer. “I don't know if it’s worth giving up that,” he said, and moved in to steal a kiss. And hey, if his superiors gave a rats ass over who he was dating, Leon had no problems remaining a homicide detective for the rest of his career.
“Talk like that and you’ll be smoking that cigarette from your asshole,” Revy snorted, but got the joke, she guessed. Didn’t necessarily mean he kissed that scowl off her face though.
A couple seconds later she decidedly rolled on top of him, blanketing her bare body with his - skin against skin - and pushed back that pesky waterfall of bed hair away from her eyes. “My hair’s not bleached and my tits are real, so you’re just going to have to make peace with it,” she challenged, a single brow poking up. “And out of the two of us, I’ll always be the better shot.”
Leon reached for the ashtray again, this time butting out his cigarette so that he didn’t accidentally burn either one of them (particularly Revy. Burning Revy would probably hurt him far more than burning himself). Cigarette gone, he placed his hands on either side of her head, tangling his fingers in that long hair of hers and pushing it further from her face. Then he eyed her critically. “So long as you keep it that way. You’d be a terrible blonde,” he said after a moment. He didn’t need to comment on her tits though. After all, it was probably pretty easy to tell how much he enjoyed all their squishy realness. “I wouldn’t say always. I might catch up someday. When your vision starts to go.”
Yeah, no interest in changing her hair color, or the state of her tits for that matter - she was busty enough as it was already and fucking surprising she hadn’t bitchslapped her own face with those knockers in the rush of a gunfight. “You saying I’m stuck with you even when I get old?” Revy reeled her face back a little, jokingly. “Fuck my life.”
A subtle way of expressing commitment, but Two Hands would...take it. Maybe one day she’d have the mess in her brain sorted to verbally cement it further on her end, but the nerves were still so goddamn frazzled. The situation was still going to take some adjustment time - New York was still fresh.
If New York had done anything, aside from give Leon a shitton of conflicted feelings regarding his job (even more than his dream counterpart deciding that if D really did wipe out the human race, it really wouldn’t be such an awful thing), it was show him that he really didn’t want to live a life that didn’t have Revy by his side. There was no one else in this world that he would have covered up a murder for, and even if he wasn’t entirely sure how to express it, growing old with Revy really wouldn’t be the worst thing he could imagine.
Her response, and the fact that he could feel life returning to his nether regions, made him grin widely. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist, and then flipped over so that he was lying on top of her. “Hey, I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea either.”
A chuckle rumbled from her raspy through, slipping her arms under his and around his back - much like her legs widened, looping over his waist. Leon was effectively trapped.
“Don’t worry,” Revy told him, dipping her head under his chin to attack his throat with nips. Mostly gentle ones, there was a little bit of sharp tooth action here and there because why the fuck not. “You’ll probably give me a reason to shoot you in a year, maybe less. Let’s make bets on it.”
Leon gave a deep, throaty chuckled and, leaning on the forearm of his arm, tangled her hair between his fingers. “I’m going to vote ‘never’ if it’s all the same to you,” he said, attempting to sound grumpy about the suggestion though that was very difficult when he had a gorgeous, naked woman in his arms, even if she could be beyond aggravating sometimes. He let out a gasp at a particularly painful nip. “And if you give me a hickey, you’d better believe I’ll get revenge ten-fold.”