Illya (redperilatdawn) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-07-22 20:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, gaby teller, illya kuryakin |
Who: Illya Kuryakin & Gaby Teller-Mason
What: The Russian swings in to visit and after fussing over Gaby talk turns to the dreams
When: 22nd July
Where: Gaby's garage
Rating/Warnings: G | None
Status: Log | Complete
Ever since what passed for a date Illya Kuryakin had been distracted. Not just by Gaby by also by the confounding Napoleon Solo. Not that he was thinking about how those blue eyes that spelled trouble when he was securing coffee and pastries for himself and Gaby. He was going to swing by her work and surprise her because contrary to what some might believe the Russian was capable of feeling and being spontaneous.
Of course what he had not been expecting was to from a distance spot bruising and cuts on her delicate frame and he felt an anger unlike any he’d ever felt flood over him. Whoever had hurt her would pay, it was that simple. He wasted no time in locking up his car and moving closer, coffee and pastries being put aside in favour of large hands catching her face and with a surprising display of gentleness he brushed his thumb over the mark on her cheek.
“What happened?”
His voice was low but there was a thread of emotion to it which suggested he would end whoever had hurt her.
Gaby Teller-Mason had been doing her best to keep busy. Dreams of being stuck behind the Iron Curtain in the 1950s had been plaguing her; the death of her stepfather being too similar to the death of her adopted father, the uncle who didn't want her... there were elements of her life replicated in her dreams, overlaid so perfectly that it was almost painful.
And she was tired, and she was sore so having popped a couple more painkillers to deal with the ache of a fractured cheekbone she had just about decided to close shop for the day when suddenly Illya was there, in her space, hands on her face and gently - though it still hurt - brushing his thumb over her skin.
She didn't mean to flinch, but she did.
Lifting her fingers to curl them gently around his wrists, she wet her lower lip and looked up at him with a small smile. She was touched by his concern, if not a little surprised by the ferocity of it.
"I am fine," she started with, "there was- I was working under a car and the jack collapsed."
Illya's brow furrowed deeply when Gaby explained what had happened and even as she flinched he didn't pull away but rather ceased his movements as the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her even more than she was already. "I hope that does not happen often?"
It was important to know these things, especially as Gaby worked with cars on a daily basis, and if he needed to look at every single jack in her garage to know that they would not collapse again then he would.
Gaby shook her head. “No, normally I work here, not out on location so it was an unusual event.” Her fingers gently squeezed his wrists. “What was more unusual was that the car was lifted off me.”
She offered him a small, tired smile. “I am okay, Illya. I just- I have also not been sleeping well which does not help.”
Not that unusual given that the Russian could do the same if the need arose but he understood that it was not something normal that most other people saw on a daily basis. “Not sleeping well?”
He breathed in and tipped his head to regard her more closely.
“Have you been dreaming?”
“Something like that,” Gaby admitted, turning her head a little and pressing her nose and lips against the palm of one of the large hands cradling her face before she gently removed herself to pick up the coffee she could smell. She needed coffee.
She wet her lower lip. “It is... peculiar.”
Illya’s breath caught at the back of his throat when Gaby pressed a kiss to the palm of one of his hands and as she pulled away he inhaled, it was important to remain composed and collected.
“It is,” he agreed. “Some things are not what you would want them to be and others are closer to the reality now than you would imagine.”
She passed him the other coffee. “Exactly,” she said. “I- my dreams are discomforting. They...” she didn’t quite know how to explain it. “I have been dreaming of a life in Berlin in the sixties, I think. Before the wall fell.”
Illya took the coffee with a thanks and took his first sip while watching Gaby over the rim as she explained.
“That is a rather specific time period.” Of course if his dreams were any indication then he wasn’t that far behind her in terms of the timeline.
“I had to google some of the events,” she admitted. “Though I lived there for a while, they are not fond of the early twentieth century. We learn about it in schools but the wall is not taught in as much detail as we would like. At least, not when I was at school.”
“Unsurprisingly it was not taught at the schools I attended in Russia,” Illya offered with a small smirk.
He ran his fingers through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck. “I have been dreaming of a childhood that is close to but not exactly identical to the one I have already lived through.”
“You have?” She asked, coffee put aside again having taken a few sips. She reached out and caught his elbow, using it to pull his hand down from the back of his neck so she could hold it again. He looked discomforted. “Unpleasant?”
Illya’s jaw flickered briefly with tension and it was clear how unpleasant his childhood had been given the way his shoulders stiffened though enough years had passed which meant he was able to make himself relax.
“That is a word for it,” he assured her as he squeezed her hand. “But we were talking about your dreams. Have you dreamt of anything else?”
Gaby just nodded, knowing better than to push if Illya did not wish to talk, she was not going to make him. She copied the gentle squeeze and reached for her coffee. She had hoped that she would not have had to see Illya or Napoleon until such a time as she was healed. No luck, she supposed.
“I- not long after I came home, I met a man named Napoleon. He has just entered my dreams, which is, in and of itself, quite peculiar.”
Wait. What? Illya blinked as he processed that information. “Was his surname Solo by any chance?”
Gaby's eyebrows lifted and then she nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. "...Yes."
“I know him.” Short sweet but odd that they both knew Napoleon given that Orange County was not small by any means.
"You do?" Gaby asked, "I recently asked him about the Dreams, he said they are about to get very interesting."
Illya’s expression was straight and gave nothing away of the stormy interior as it seemed awfully coincidental that they both knew Solo and now Solo was telling Gaby that her dreams were about to get interesting.
Could be that Napoleon and Gaby shared the same dreams and Illya, well, he was just a shared connection between the two. Nothing more nothing less. The Russian was not convinced however.
“Yes, I do. We have been talking. Did he specify what he meant?”
"No," Gaby replied with a shake of her head. "He was vague, which was frustrating. I have not dreamed past the- there is a man following Napoleon in my dreams though I don't know who he is just yet."
She squeezed Illya's hand again and then moved to pick up the discarded pastries.
"Come on, sit down and we can talk more."
Illya nodded his head and followed her. “I’d like that.” And he would. There was something about her that intrigued him and made him fiercely protective in ways he wasn’t normally.
Gaby smiled and carried the pastries over to the small table, then she walked to the door and flipped the sign to closed so that they wouldn't be disturbed. Settling on the couch, she patted the seat next to her for Illya to join her and, when he did, she started talking.
Business was good enough that she could be closed for the afternoon, anyway.