A lazy Saturday morning. The smell of coffee made Villanelle stir, reaching out to find Eve gone. She hated when Eve wasn’t within reach. But she heard movement in the kitchen.
“I hope you aren’t cooking, Eve.” Villanelle yells from their room, followed by an audible yawn.
“Piss off.” Eve yelled back. “Come in here.”
Villanelle laughed, stretched as her feet hit the ground, and padded down the hall to their kitchen.
“I made you coffee, dick.” Eve said when she heard Villanelle walk into the kitchen.
Villanelle steps behind her, laughing as she wraps her arms around Eve’s waist. She nudges Eve’s sleep mussed hair out of the way to kiss her neck.
Villanelle never thought she would have something like this. Never. She has always prided herself on having nice things, admiring them, collecting them. She kept her things safe, in mint condition. But with people, with someone’s feelings, she was nonchalant, reckless. She threw people away. Feelings were disposable. People themselves were disposable. But this, what she had with Eve, was something she never thought possible.
Eve was different. She’s never wanted or needed anything as she wants and needs Eve. She wants to keep Eve safe. Her feelings hold priority. She doesn’t hold Eve as a prize to be won or paraded. She doesn’t possess her, unless Eve asks her to do so. She’s never held something as precious as Eve. So, Villanelle keeps her touch gentle and giving, unless Eve wants different. In which she tells Villanelle.
And Eve reciprocates. Gentle and giving with her touches, unless Villanelle asks differently. She’s protective of Villanelle. Holds Villanelle’s feelings and happiness priority. Villanelle’s never had anyone care about how she felt, about how her day went, about what she wants or needs. And it could be overwhelming. Villanelle doubted herself often. Eve always sensed it, and put a stop to it. She taught Villanelle how to be confident in their relationship. To work for it. To embrace everything that comes with it. While Villanelle had always been confident in her previous life and job, confidence was hard to come by with something so foreign as a relationship. With someone she loved. Eve made this transition possible. She was patient, giving, kind. And she didn’t put up with Villanelle’s bullshit.
Eve pushed and challenged her as no one else had. She expected things of Villanelle. And Eve wanted Villanelle to expect things of her as well. To expect Eve to give just as much as she received. Eve made her want to be a better person. And, in turn, Villanelle became who she was meant to be. Who she’s always thought was impossible to be. Someone who always felt out of reach. And when Villanelle grasped at it and finally felt it within her hands, it felt foreign, until Eve’s hands were there to support. To ease the confusion and pain of not knowing who you were, who you really are, or who you are meant to be.
"Thank you for the coffee, Eve. Good morning." Villanelle says into Eve's hair.
Eve turns to face Villanelle, catching her lips with hers.
“How did you sleep?” Eve asks, moving her lips to Villanelle’s neck.
“Oh wow, you slept good.” Villanelle laughs as Eve moves her lips to graze Villanelle’s jaw.
Eve is a fan of morning sex. And Villanelle is a fan of Eve. A year into their relationship, and still, they still can’t keep their hands off of one another. And their weekends look like this. Tangled together. Lips and fingers dancing across each other's skin. And when Villanelle hoists Eve onto their kitchen counter, she thinks that their bed must be lonely. They can barely make it to the bedroom half of the time. And this was one of those times.
Even though Eve sometimes works on the weekends, she makes it short. She usually has something planned for them. The previous weekend, Eve came home from work on Friday with bikes for both of them. Villanelle had never been a bike person, but exploring their area on bikes the next day with Eve made her that person.
Eve was patient with her. When Villanelle couldn’t sleep, Eve stayed up with her. Even though she had to work the next morning. She would drag Villanelle to the couch, wrap them up tight, and put on a movie. Villanelle would usually fall asleep within minutes. She’d wake up, curled up on the couch, Eve’s head on her shoulder, her face buried in Eve’s hair. Safe.
Their biggest fight came when they talked about marriage. Neither of them wanted to get married again. Villanelle saying ‘again’ was a huge mistake. Villanelle had forgotten to divulge that information to Eve. Truly forgotten. Because it didn’t matter. Not like Eve did. And because it was so soon after Rome, Eve was especially upset. Eve slammed the front door on her way out. And when Eve came back hours later, tears in her eyes, having ignored Villanelle’s texts and calls, she wordlessly grabbed Villanelle and pulled her into their bedroom. She pushed Villanelle onto the bed and told her that after she was done, Villanelle wouldn’t be able to remember the other woman’s name. And after, when Eve asked about her again, Villanelle truthfully, honestly, and breathlessly said, “Who?”. Villanelle then realized that she really appreciated a jealous Eve.
Eve had to go into the office this weekend. She had promised Villanelle she’d be quick and that she had something planned for their afternoon. So, when Villanelle received a text from Eve telling her to meet her at the beach, their spot, Villanelle jumped to get ready.
A week after moving in, they were walking along the beach near their home. Hand in hand. The moon shining across the still ocean water. Soft waves lapping at the shore. The smell of the ocean and an ocean breeze lingering around them. Eve’s hair a messy, tangled, beautiful mess. And when Villanelle stopped them to tell Eve how lucky she felt, to be here with Eve, Eve pulled her closer to their secluded shore and showed Villanelle how lucky she felt as well. Their spot.
And today, when Villanelle found Eve in their spot, the ocean waves rougher than they were that night and made brighter by the sun, she found it to be their spot again for another reason.
Eve held a tiny figure in her arms. And when she handed it to Villanelle, the tears that ran down her cheeks were cleaned by soft licks.
“I thought we could name him Charles.” Eve said smirking, placing her hand on Villanelle’s cheek.
And Villanelle laughed. Eve had remembered.
She held this tiny being in her arms. His yellow hair blowing in the ocean breeze. His golden-brown eyes looking up at her like nothing else mattered. His tongue kissing the tears as they run happily down her face.
“He’s ours?” Villanelle asked, searching Eve's eyes.