she's never had need of one, nothing to worry about her appearances for. it only occurs to her rather late now to wonder if she has made herself up to look fancy enough to go where they're planning to go. daisy's approval is rather high stakes, as far as rey is concerned. she's cool and smart and makes rey feel like she's valuable: all good things. priceless, in fact. she's positive daisy wouldn't just turn around and drop her because she got them kicked out of a restaurant for looking like a gremlin, but rey's also sure that it wouldn't thrill her, and that rey would feel guilty anyway.
well. nowhere to go but forward. ]
Just message me when you're close.
[ that should be a fine enough message to send kylo for now to dispel some of her nervousness. she doesn't have anything left to do; she's hugging right up against the agreed upon time already, green cocktail dress zipped, hair combed neatly down instead of pinned back by a chaotic jumble of clips and a headband. it doesn't feel short anymore. somehow, its above-shoulders length has started to feel long since it's been so long that she's been without her buns. ]
Ten minutes. [ it might be a touch optimistic. it's not only that he's currently battling the evening traffic, but that he's doing so while wearing a suit that had cost him a significant chunk of his paycheck.
arriving rumpled might well be unavoidable, but let it be said that an effort had been made. ]
Rey hesitates. She hadn't expected that after their prior conversation. She looks around at the two hundred square feet she has begun to call home. It's not messier than usual by any means. It's not as clean as his place. She heads over to press the buzzer to open the security door downstairs instead of arguing or questioning. It'll be faster to just let him.
She combs her fingers through her hair in one last hasty bid to make it look less strange to her, hanging loose like this. ]
[ finding a place to park stretches that ten minutes into something closer to fifteen ㅡ there are a few places, it turns out, but none of them inspire much confidence.
perhaps he should have taken a taxi. perhaps, but then he wouldn't get to see the look on Rey's face when she got to try it. which makes any risk to the bike's welfare acceptable. a lot of things seem to quickly become acceptable where she is concerned.
so, after taking a moment to smooth down his suit as best he can, he heads up to her apartment; lingers, briefly, to check his hair, and then knocks. ]
[ The door opens, and Rey physically stutters. She draws up short on seeing him, the suit much softer and formal than any of his armor or streetwear. Then she feels foolish for it because of course she looks the same. They're both playing dress up today. Neither are made for this. Immediately she feels more relaxed, seeing how he looks in his 'costume.' Hers can't be that bad then. They're the same. ]
You look...
[ A wan smile spreads across her lips. She grabs her jacket off her bed, which is really just a mattress on the floor beside the rack that is her exposed closet. Beyond that is a kitchen large enough only for one person to stand in and pivot, and opposite that is a bathroom with a curtain instead of a door. She looks like a glowing jewel amidst the chaos and garbage of her close quarters, which has a smattering of discarded clothes and a takeout container or two--no doubt due to her cramped kitchen.
Dressed all in rich emerald green, Rey has adopted flats instead of heels in one last holdout against convention. The dress falls above her thigh and she has, actually, shaved her legs after assessing over the past few days why she felt she still didn't seem to fit in with her image of the kinds of people who wear nice dresses. She's trying to convince herself she feels like Leia might. Princesslike, but still formidable. ]
Uh. Do you need anything before we go? [ He must have come up for something right? She gestures. ] Fresher's there. The switch is a bit finicky, just be firm.
No, [ he tells her, though admittedly he has no idea what had prompted this change of mind. had prompted him to come up to her rather than wait for her to come down to him, as had been the plan.
looking at her now, though. seeing the way the emerald of the fabric catches the gilt of her skin, turning it warm and golden, he can't find it in him to be disappointed. he clears his throat, looking away she ducks back inside to fetch her jacket.
his gaze lingers on the little slice of the apartment he can make out. it's a small space.
a lived-in space. and, clutter aside, there is something so very Rey about this. endearing and befuddling. ]
[ She notes this with some amusement. The jacket is leather, and, pulled around her shoulders, it dresses down the fancy sheath dress she's wearing considerably, but it also makes it look more Rey. Less like she's putting on someone else's clothes. Rey walks up to him, no longer smothering her smile.
He would have seen her either way, which means he'd come up because he'd been excited to see her. It's familiar and mutual, and she glances away after a moment, recognizing it. She scarcely knows what to do with that--she's shared that kind of glee only with Finn before, and never in this way. ]
Well. This is me. [ She gestures to the door. Better to find another pivot than dwell on what he could judge. ] I'm all set.
Maybe, [ he agrees, then ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of her smiling mouth before he can think better of it. the angle is a little awkward, perhaps. and the kiss itself entirely too brief, but when he pulls back there's a brief twitch of a smile plucking at the corner of his mouth. pleased with himself. ]
[ He is as brazen and open as she had once been with him. Noticing this startles her. She has closed off from him, in contrast, waiting for some sign of trust to soften her again. Rey is stunned, temporarily frozen, by the kiss. It steals her breath, and she searches his face for that moment's hesitation--for an explanation. There is none. He'd simply wanted to. The brief connection of the empathy bond had revealed that in perfect clarity.
And why not? They have already kissed. She had returned it, the night of the UNA attack. Wounded and frail and trembling under the water of his shower, she had leaned into this because she knew no other way. For some reason, repeating it by the light of day demands definition. She is all too aware now of the nature of this outing.
No, not some reason. She knows the reason. ]
I'm the one waiting.
[ She says it with some resolve. Giving this voice now runs the risk of ruining the whole evening, but she is not well-versed in social graces, and she has no want to hold herself back. Now that she sees the evening for what it is--not a group of friends gathered, but two pairs; Force, she's stupid to have not noticed Daisy's working before--she is keenly aware of how she has been waiting.
The only reason she doesn't surge to reclaim that kiss and overpower him with a hungrier one is that she's waiting. Waiting for him to make a decision about the conflict that stirs inside him. ]
Stop doing that. [ Her chest aches in protest. She does not want it to stop, not really. But it's confusing; she never knows if she's kissing Ben Solo or Kylo Ren. This is an oversimplification, of course, in that she knows he is both in either case, but she does not want her desire for him to be misconstrued as permission for his vacillating.
Some part of her complains that it makes no difference--that whether or not she's kissing him doesn't change how invested they have both become. But it does. It's a foothold for so much more. ]
his head dips, hiding the brief flicker of ...something. a thorny, embarrassed feeling that he would sooner discard immediately than have to examine further. )
If that's what you want. ( he steps to the side, allowing her space to step around him. )
[ The tension isn't a bad thing -- it's only bringing out what has already existed between them, what they have been ignoring. In that way, it feels more honest and satisfies something in Rey's chest. She isn't sure she likes the phrasing -- she does want to kiss him, but she wants to know what it means when she does -- but digging into it isn't necessarily appealing either. ]
I figured.
[ Where else would it be? Saying so seems like a way to extricate them from the awkwardness of the situation. A way to flinch away from the conflict. Rey doesn't have a conflict-averse bone in her body. ]
I want you. [ Does she need to say it? She has. A hundred different ways. But selfishly, she wants all or nothing. And she can't get Daisy out of her head. ] I want you to want to be better. Not just because you want this with me.
( admittedly, his reasons for joining morningstar had been pragmatic rather than altruistic, but he was here. he was doing his part, fighting the good fight and was even willing to throw in his lot with fitz and his proposed off-shoot. )
This doesn't come as easily to me as it does to you. ( none of it does, if they're being honest. rey, by contrast, has taken to it like she was born to it. )
I don't have to let you kiss me just because you're trying.
[ Just to be clear. She's pretty sure it wasn't a deliberate implication, but it was there between the lines of his irritation, so she's calling it out. But she does head own the stairs then, locking her door up so she doesn't wind up coming home to some tweaker later. ]
None of this comes easily to me. Do you have any idea— [ No. Of course he had no idea. She'd been with Illya, and even letting him see it had nearly split her in two. She'd asked for his help and it had still hurt. The dress still doesn't feel right on her, but she's chosen to view it as dress-up instead, pretending to be something that was never her life. Getting to enjoy being part of a story that wasn't hers. ]
That's not what I meant. ( a defensive snap that he regrets almost immediately. )
You're the hero. ( a clarification. there's no curl of disdain this time, at least; he might not like that her stubborn belief places her in opposition to him, might not really understand why she would choose them — the New Republic, who had done nothing for her; the Resistance, who would see him dead; her friends, who cannot possibly understand her as he does — over him, but he is beginning to see that he doesn't need to understand the why of it. only accept it. accept that it is part of who she is. )
I'm — ( "a monster", he doesn't say; it hangs in the air between them, regardless. a monster that has forgotten how to be a man. )
I'm trying. It's easier, now; knowing who is driving things.
[ She barrels straight past what she actually wants to say -- that it's not supposed to be easy, but that you're supposed to do the hard thing anyway. That's what heroes do. -- to instead focus on that. She's suspected that it's easier because he doesn't have to face his family, his mistakes, here.
Maybe she's wrong. Or maybe he just hasn't realized that yet. ]
The whole reason Gaby never wanted to trust us is because she didn't believe we could believe in her cause over our own selfish interests.
[ She blurts this out like she's appalled, but after a moment, Rey realizes she really shouldn't be. None of this should be surprising. She stops mid-stairwell, though, a few steps up from Kylo. ]
Doing the right thing because it's what you want for yourself isn't doing the right thing. Doing the right thing because it's easy isn't heroic at all. Caring about people should be a good enough reason on its own.
[ It wouldn't be worth it to make this appeal if she didn't believe he already felt that. He doesn't want to hurt people. He didn't want to kill Han. He'd done it because he felt cornered. He'd stayed with the First Order because it had felt safer than confronting his crimes, his mother. And now she's positive that he's still clinging to that mindset.
Any uncertainty she'd had about refusing that kiss is gone now. She'd been right, and it had needed to happen. ]
( and this is an admission that costs him. admitting to fear means that the fear is real. ) I was foolish and I allowed myself to be led to do things I can never take back.
And now I'm here, blind, and unsure.
Forgive me my caution when I know what I am capable of.
You knew that those things were wrong when you did them. [ She won't hear arguments otherwise--he was not manipulated in that way. He knew killing his father was wrong, and he still did it. ] Snoke used your fear to lead you.
[ She's stubborn on this point, even if she softens to less rage and more empathy, understanding. She cannot know what it is like for him--this is something they don't share. But she understands it better than anyone else. She has seen more of it. He has let her. ]
If you want to move beyond him, you need to let it go. He made you think there was no way back, but there is. But you have to believe in more than protecting yourself.
( the fear was like a toothache: a low, persistent throb of pain that had become a part of who he was to such an extent that imagining it being gone was ... impossible, once. )
And what if I do not know who I am without the anger.
[ That's why she's here now. That's why she's been here the whole time, despite her reservations. As long as he's accepting it, she'll give it.
She trudges down those steps, reaches for his arm. For a moment, she hesitates, leaving her hand there. Then she leans forward, tipping her forehead against his chest and sighing. He's right there. She can feel it. ]
[ rey and kylo actually manage to clean up well, by some miracle. they arrive together to the restaurant, rey stiff in the shoulders and looking all the part a fish out of water, not quite touching but close enough to make it apparent that kylo ren is the closest thing she has to a security blanket for this social interaction.
she has a leather jacket pulled on over her cocktail dress, stubbornly, and black flats on instead of heels to ruin the overall fashionable affect she has tried to cobble together. it's better than she could usually manage. when they enter through the doors, rey ducks around kylo and the doorman and makes an over-eager effort to search out daisy and illya first thing.
[ kylo's bike is already parked outside the restaurant by the time the taxi pulls to a stop in front. they're not running that late, maybe five minutes or so, but she feels bad all the same — after all, it doesn't take a shrink to know that rey's probably panicking a little by now, standing in the restaurant looking for the others. honestly, daisy's a little surprised she hasn't gotten a worried text at this point.
but thankfully, the small foyer and the bemused receptionist help to make quick work of locating her friend, and so it only takes a few minutes for daisy to reach the other girl, a hand reaching out to curl around rey's fingers and tug for her attention. ]
Hey, [ quiet, reassuring, as rey's neck cranes to look in the other direction. ] Sorry we're late.
[ they weren't that late. just slightly late and it could be blamed on the unpredictable transportation in this city rather than anything else.
so, before too long, he's sliding into a seat at the table, giving rey a quick nod and something close to a smile before his gaze settles on the other man. tall (but not as tall as him) and stony in a way that illya recognizes because it is an expression that he puts forth quite a bit. ]
Hello.
[ an all around good greeting there. one word but it says so much so he doesn't have to immediately jump into being a conversationalist since he is terrible at that. ]
Good to see you again. I'm glad you wore the dress.
[ it had taken them some time to locate the right one, after all, but he'd wondered if she'd wear it or go with something more comfortable. ]
[ she buys a dress. she buys an expensive dress, and the shop delivers it — right to illya's address, as daisy's at work and she knows he'll be home, neatly steamed and pressed and hung from a thick wooden hanger and covered in thin ecofoil to protect it from the elements.
don't look, she tells him.
she'd like the whole thing to be a surprise, really. an opportunity for him to look at her the way he had that recent afternoon in the vyonation lobby, to see her in something other than everyday wear or one of his shirts. he might not be a fashion consultant in real life, but she knows he still has taste.
so she makes him wait in the living room until she's ready, until her head peeks out the doorframe and calls him in, beckoning him to come and help.
[ he doesn't look. once the dress is delivered, he hangs it on the closet door for her to find when she gets back. with that done, he goes about showering and sliding into the suit he'd bought for the occasion.
everything is neat and tailored, fitted to his height and width so nothing sags or looks too tight anywhere. it's comfortable but it would still never be his favorite thing to wear.
but, he's at least ready by the time she gets home and thus, he stays in the living room, drinking water and idly scrolling through the network until she gets his attention. ]
Do I have to close my eyes?
[ well, she'd been so secretive about the dress that she might just want assistance for a moment before shoving him out of the room again. ]
How are you going to see the zipper if you close your eyes?
[ honestly, illya, use your brain. and your eyes, too, for that matter. if he does, he'll notice her expression in the mirror, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she peeks at his silhouette in the doorway through the reflection of the mirror.
by now, she's mostly ready. they'd set dinner late enough that she was able to come back from work without worrying about staying too late, and now that she'd had a chance to shower and dry her hair, all that was left was just zipping up her dress. then she'd be done, ready to go; they'd have a little time to kill, but she wouldn't have to rush. ]
I would follow your voice and then just touch your back until I found it. I do not think it would take me that long.
[ but it is easier to do it with his eyes open. he takes the zipper in his hands and pushes it upwards until the it rests against the top of the dress. that done, he lets it go and brushes his hands briefly down her shoulders. ]
Turn around so I can see.
[ he steps back so he can take in the full effect of the dress. it's absolutely on purpose that he puts his hands into his pockets. he knows what he's going to want to do and they're about to go to a fancy dinner.
I think you'd get distracted first, [ is her surprisingly diplomatic reply, but he does at least manage to finagle the zipper up as needed, so she can't rib him too hard. yet.
instead, she turns; it's not quite a model spin, not quite as smooth as the swooshing skirt flare she'd done in the dressing room. it's ... shier, almost, a slow rotation on bare feet as she turns to face him. she's not totally sure what to do with her hands. his are in his pockets, but she doesn't have pockets — should she hold them outright, scarecrow style? rest them on her hips? let them dangle like the ends of spaghetti noodles from limp arms?
who knows, really. she just... doesn't know, so she shrugs a bit, and tries to play it off as a pseudo vanna white impression. ]
It's too late for you to tell me you hate it, for the record. The shop's already closed and they don't give refunds.
[ he doesn't hate it at all. there is nothing to hate about this dress. he doesn't know what to say about it for the moment. instead, he stares, eyes widened slightly and desperately trying not to bite his lip.
when he realizes he's just been staring at her, he finally shakes himself free and steps back closer, letting his fingers trail down one of her arms until he can snag two of her fingers with his. ]
You look beautiful. [ of course she does. ] You're stunning.
[ well. she's glad he doesn't hate it. that much she can admit fairly quickly, if not to him then at least to herself. she's glad for the other part, too — the soft compliment, the gentle caress along her arms that drags goosebumps in its wake, the twining of hands even in a light touch — even if she can't quite verbalize it.
the soft flush on her cheeks does a damn good enough job as it is.
he looks good as well, though she doesn't think he needs her to tell him that. fashion consultants, even false ones, should know how to dress themselves, and the cut of his suit so perfectly done tells her that he knows damn well how to do it. but he does look good, and so it's reason enough for daisy to lean that much closer in, stepping up on bare tiptoes to brush her lips against the line of his jaw. ]
[ his razors were exactly where they were supposed to be. he just hadn't bothered to shave. soon, he was going have to at least trim it to make sure it didn't go from neat to unkempt but he was still good for now. ]
I'll shave tomorrow.
[ he wouldn't. ]
You're lovely. [ just in case she needed more compliments. ] I'm lucky.
[ couldn't find his razor? hmmm. weird how that would happen, considering they were just in the same spot they always were. since she'd been too lazy to actually follow through with throwing them away. ]
Me too. [ lucky, that is. it feels strange to say it out loud. like admitting this whole arrangement is more than just... convenient. practical. she'd given his address for the delivery of a dress that was more expensive than her last month's worth of meals, but she'd justified it as practicality. he was home, she was at work. it didn't make sense to have a dry-cleaned dress delivered to her office.
but... well. there was also the part where, when daisy thought about going home after work, she'd slowly stopped thinking of the flat she shared with two colleagues and more about the apartment whose key hung around her neck. ]
We have a little time. [ before they have to leave. ] What do you want to do?
[ what an absolutely loaded question that is when she's standing there, looking as she does. he gives her fingers a squeeze, trying to suppress anything too risque from passing through the empathy bond. he rubs his thumb against her knuckles and shrugs one shoulder. ]
Television?
[ it seemed like the safest thing to do, did it not? they could sit and watch one program while they were dressed up and no one would get mussed and then they would be off.
[ try as he might, there's just no suppressing memory. his touch might be gentle, but there's a familiarity to it, a near-possessive quality that makes daisy's mouth quirk at the corners. she knows what he's trying not to think about, if only because she's trying not to think about it too. ]
[ it was better than sitting on his bed. not by much but somewhat. so, he swallows and nods. ]
I'll even let you choose the program.
[ maybe it would be mindless enough to distract him from thoughts that should wait till later.
anyway, he gives her hand a tug and starts to walk them out towards the living room and the couch. it was a nice couch. a totally innocent, nice couch. ]
[ you know what you're probably not supposed to do before a Big Date with your best friend and her "not a love interest" (whose dick you've both seen?) and your own not-boyfriend? sit on said not-boyfriend's lap, for starters.
but that's what daisy does, because she's a grown adult who can make her own decisions. besides, she hasn't really seen him very much today, so it's okay if she enjoys the last few minutes of whatever time they have to kill up close and personal... right?
probably not, but she's doing it anyway. ]
I like your suit, by the way. [ it's gonna be wrinkled now. sad trombone. ] Very chic.
[ oh, she's going to...okay, this is fine. she settles herself right on his lap and he shifts the tiniest bit to make himself a little more comfortable. he rests one hand on her knee, resisting the urge to actually move his hand up and down her leg because that way lay trouble when they needed to leave soon. ]
Chic. I do not think I've ever heard that word applied to me before. But thank you. I am glad it works for a night out.
[ because it was the only suit he had at the current time and he hadn't wanted to buy a whole new one just yet if this one was appropriate. ]
It does. [ very well. she's pretty fond of the way he looks in it. very serious. ] You almost look like someone who knows a thing or two about fashion.
[ that horrible cover. she can't wait for someone to realize what a bad lie it is and call him out on it, but for now, she'll just tease him about it in private. ]
Maybe we could do this again sometime, and you can wear it more.
[ she's quiet for a moment, a hand reaching up to sweep the hair at the nape of her neck. it's not that she's uncertain — but they haven't talked about these things yet. haven't really defined if dating is a thing they're doing. if they're doing more than just spending time together and going out to have dinner with friends.
but she knows, sitting in the living room all dressed up before they have to leave, that this isn't something she'd only want to do once. so maybe she can be honest about this, and that'll be enough. it's not a push, really. not a demand. just a request. ]
Just the two of us. [ a beat, and yet another casually murmured disclaimer. ] If that's something you'd want to do.
[ always those disclaimers. they are, he knows, a protective measure of a sort, but he wishes she didn't feel the need to use them. ]
All right.
[ it's easy to agree to something he's never really done outside of a job. but, he's going out tonight and it is not for work so he thinks he can manage to do it with just her and not ruin things too badly. ]
I think we should. [ he nods and gives her knee a gentle squeeze. ] Whenever the mood strikes and schedules are open, we can go.
[ easy enough. maybe too easy. maybe alarm bells should go off about slipping into something that's comfortable and familiar between them, about unwrapping another layer of something that goes well beyond physical intimacy, but they don't. instead, daisy just smiles; she leans into the touch, her leg kicking a little from reflex alone, and her head tips to brush her lips against his cheek, trailing a path from jawline to the corner of his mouth before she greets him with a kiss.
she doesn't mean to. it just... happens. instinct, familiarity, muscle memory; call it what you like, but it's just the natural path of being so close, of being in a familiar place. somewhere, in some part of daisy's mind, where it's safe to let her guard down enough to close her eyes.
maybe they should get going, but this is what she's doing right now. ]
[ if they ended up late, he was going to blame her. after all, she'd been the one to sit on his lap and that, he would say, was the catalyst to all this. not that he's really doing much to try and stop it.
no, he'll take...partial blame. because this sort of thing is a two person job and as soon as her lips meet his, he responds, eagerness and wanting flooding through him. it would be wise not to let himself get too overwhelmed since they do have to leave and they are dressed nicely but...maybe a little overwhelmed?
a little would be all right, wouldn't it? he can straighten his clothes and she can straighten hers and nothing would be amiss. this was fine. under control. ]
[ she'd tried to make sure they had time to leave at leisure. she'd planned the reservation for late enough in the evening that she could get home and change, left enough time in between to walk to the groundtram and then a block or so to the restaurant, made sure she'd even have enough time to check in with rey beforehand to make sure nothing was amiss.
what was that they said about best laid plans?
best of intentions aside, daisy forgets all of her carefully planned scheduling all too quickly, her attentions sliding to focus on the warm give-and-take the empathy bond provides. these days, there's little surprise in it. warmth, more so than anything else; mutually given, the hint of desire that swells each time their mouths meet, but trust and contentment and comfort surrounding it. it's not desperate or needy, just. familiar.
it's only once a neighbor's car alarm sounds in the distance that daisy pulls away, eyes squinting at the clock on the wall only to flutter wide in recognition. ]
Oh, shit, [ a hurried press of her lips to his, and then she's scrambling to her feet, doing her best to smooth out the twists in the straps on her shoulders from his wandering hands. ] Come on. We're gonna be so late.
[ if they take the groundtram, that is. she's already flicking through options on the driverless taxi service they took last time, trying to see if the rates will work. it's pricier than she would like, but, well. she'd rather be broke than lose the reservation.
or worse, make rey think they left her there on purpose. ]
[ it ends far too soon. one minute her lips are pressed against his hand and his hand are on her back, thinking of tugging those straps down and the next, she's several feet away from him, fixing her dress and looking frantic.
he's never been the slow one but he's slow right now, trying to recover from the gradual slide he'd been taking into getting caught up and lost in touching her. it hasn't gotten to the point where he needs to excuse himself and adjust his pants but a few more moments and that would have happened.
no, he's only to the point of licking his lips, straightening his hair and eventually rising to his feet. his suit's a little wrinkled but he does his best to brush the worst of them out. ]
We will get there. Don't panic. [ he wasn't going to let her pay for it all on her own either. so, they could take a taxi and get there quick enough. ] If we leave now, we'll be a few minutes late. It happens.
[ and it wouldn't be worse because she'd been the responsible one and noticed the time. ]
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rey & kylo
she's never had need of one, nothing to worry about her appearances for. it only occurs to her rather late now to wonder if she has made herself up to look fancy enough to go where they're planning to go. daisy's approval is rather high stakes, as far as rey is concerned. she's cool and smart and makes rey feel like she's valuable: all good things. priceless, in fact. she's positive daisy wouldn't just turn around and drop her because she got them kicked out of a restaurant for looking like a gremlin, but rey's also sure that it wouldn't thrill her, and that rey would feel guilty anyway.
well. nowhere to go but forward. ]
Just message me when you're close.
[ that should be a fine enough message to send kylo for now to dispel some of her nervousness. she doesn't have anything left to do; she's hugging right up against the agreed upon time already, green cocktail dress zipped, hair combed neatly down instead of pinned back by a chaotic jumble of clips and a headband. it doesn't feel short anymore. somehow, its above-shoulders length has started to feel long since it's been so long that she's been without her buns. ]
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arriving rumpled might well be unavoidable, but let it be said that an effort had been made. ]
Can you let me up?
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Rey hesitates. She hadn't expected that after their prior conversation. She looks around at the two hundred square feet she has begun to call home. It's not messier than usual by any means. It's not as clean as his place. She heads over to press the buzzer to open the security door downstairs instead of arguing or questioning. It'll be faster to just let him.
She combs her fingers through her hair in one last hasty bid to make it look less strange to her, hanging loose like this. ]
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perhaps he should have taken a taxi. perhaps, but then he wouldn't get to see the look on Rey's face when she got to try it. which makes any risk to the bike's welfare acceptable. a lot of things seem to quickly become acceptable where she is concerned.
so, after taking a moment to smooth down his suit as best he can, he heads up to her apartment; lingers, briefly, to check his hair, and then knocks. ]
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You look...
[ A wan smile spreads across her lips. She grabs her jacket off her bed, which is really just a mattress on the floor beside the rack that is her exposed closet. Beyond that is a kitchen large enough only for one person to stand in and pivot, and opposite that is a bathroom with a curtain instead of a door. She looks like a glowing jewel amidst the chaos and garbage of her close quarters, which has a smattering of discarded clothes and a takeout container or two--no doubt due to her cramped kitchen.
Dressed all in rich emerald green, Rey has adopted flats instead of heels in one last holdout against convention. The dress falls above her thigh and she has, actually, shaved her legs after assessing over the past few days why she felt she still didn't seem to fit in with her image of the kinds of people who wear nice dresses. She's trying to convince herself she feels like Leia might. Princesslike, but still formidable. ]
Uh. Do you need anything before we go? [ He must have come up for something right? She gestures. ] Fresher's there. The switch is a bit finicky, just be firm.
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looking at her now, though. seeing the way the emerald of the fabric catches the gilt of her skin, turning it warm and golden, he can't find it in him to be disappointed. he clears his throat, looking away she ducks back inside to fetch her jacket.
his gaze lingers on the little slice of the apartment he can make out. it's a small space.
a lived-in space. and, clutter aside, there is something so very Rey about this. endearing and befuddling. ]
I just wanted to see you.
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[ She notes this with some amusement. The jacket is leather, and, pulled around her shoulders, it dresses down the fancy sheath dress she's wearing considerably, but it also makes it look more Rey. Less like she's putting on someone else's clothes. Rey walks up to him, no longer smothering her smile.
He would have seen her either way, which means he'd come up because he'd been excited to see her. It's familiar and mutual, and she glances away after a moment, recognizing it. She scarcely knows what to do with that--she's shared that kind of glee only with Finn before, and never in this way. ]
Well. This is me. [ She gestures to the door. Better to find another pivot than dwell on what he could judge. ] I'm all set.
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But I didn't want to wait.
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And why not? They have already kissed. She had returned it, the night of the UNA attack. Wounded and frail and trembling under the water of his shower, she had leaned into this because she knew no other way. For some reason, repeating it by the light of day demands definition. She is all too aware now of the nature of this outing.
No, not some reason. She knows the reason. ]
I'm the one waiting.
[ She says it with some resolve. Giving this voice now runs the risk of ruining the whole evening, but she is not well-versed in social graces, and she has no want to hold herself back. Now that she sees the evening for what it is--not a group of friends gathered, but two pairs; Force, she's stupid to have not noticed Daisy's working before--she is keenly aware of how she has been waiting.
The only reason she doesn't surge to reclaim that kiss and overpower him with a hungrier one is that she's waiting. Waiting for him to make a decision about the conflict that stirs inside him. ]
Stop doing that. [ Her chest aches in protest. She does not want it to stop, not really. But it's confusing; she never knows if she's kissing Ben Solo or Kylo Ren. This is an oversimplification, of course, in that she knows he is both in either case, but she does not want her desire for him to be misconstrued as permission for his vacillating.
Some part of her complains that it makes no difference--that whether or not she's kissing him doesn't change how invested they have both become. But it does. It's a foothold for so much more. ]
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his head dips, hiding the brief flicker of ...something. a thorny, embarrassed feeling that he would sooner discard immediately than have to examine further. )
If that's what you want. ( he steps to the side, allowing her space to step around him. )
Bike's downstairs.
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I figured.
[ Where else would it be? Saying so seems like a way to extricate them from the awkwardness of the situation. A way to flinch away from the conflict. Rey doesn't have a conflict-averse bone in her body. ]
I want you. [ Does she need to say it? She has. A hundred different ways. But selfishly, she wants all or nothing. And she can't get Daisy out of her head. ] I want you to want to be better. Not just because you want this with me.
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( admittedly, his reasons for joining morningstar had been pragmatic rather than altruistic, but he was here. he was doing his part, fighting the good fight and was even willing to throw in his lot with fitz and his proposed off-shoot. )
This doesn't come as easily to me as it does to you. ( none of it does, if they're being honest. rey, by contrast, has taken to it like she was born to it. )
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[ Just to be clear. She's pretty sure it wasn't a deliberate implication, but it was there between the lines of his irritation, so she's calling it out. But she does head own the stairs then, locking her door up so she doesn't wind up coming home to some tweaker later. ]
None of this comes easily to me. Do you have any idea— [ No. Of course he had no idea. She'd been with Illya, and even letting him see it had nearly split her in two. She'd asked for his help and it had still hurt. The dress still doesn't feel right on her, but she's chosen to view it as dress-up instead, pretending to be something that was never her life. Getting to enjoy being part of a story that wasn't hers. ]
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You're the hero. ( a clarification. there's no curl of disdain this time, at least; he might not like that her stubborn belief places her in opposition to him, might not really understand why she would choose them — the New Republic, who had done nothing for her; the Resistance, who would see him dead; her friends, who cannot possibly understand her as he does — over him, but he is beginning to see that he doesn't need to understand the why of it. only accept it. accept that it is part of who she is. )
I'm — ( "a monster", he doesn't say; it hangs in the air between them, regardless. a monster that has forgotten how to be a man. )
I'm trying. It's easier, now; knowing who is driving things.
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[ She barrels straight past what she actually wants to say -- that it's not supposed to be easy, but that you're supposed to do the hard thing anyway. That's what heroes do. -- to instead focus on that. She's suspected that it's easier because he doesn't have to face his family, his mistakes, here.
Maybe she's wrong. Or maybe he just hasn't realized that yet. ]
What do you mean?
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( if that is what they're calling it? arguably, they're still Morningstar with just the representative of the group changing.
still, it matters. it matters being able to look Fitz in the eye, to know that they are united in their displacement. )
Their interests are ours.
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[ She blurts this out like she's appalled, but after a moment, Rey realizes she really shouldn't be. None of this should be surprising. She stops mid-stairwell, though, a few steps up from Kylo. ]
Doing the right thing because it's what you want for yourself isn't doing the right thing. Doing the right thing because it's easy isn't heroic at all. Caring about people should be a good enough reason on its own.
[ It wouldn't be worth it to make this appeal if she didn't believe he already felt that. He doesn't want to hurt people. He didn't want to kill Han. He'd done it because he felt cornered. He'd stayed with the First Order because it had felt safer than confronting his crimes, his mother. And now she's positive that he's still clinging to that mindset.
Any uncertainty she'd had about refusing that kiss is gone now. She'd been right, and it had needed to happen. ]
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( and this is an admission that costs him. admitting to fear means that the fear is real. ) I was foolish and I allowed myself to be led to do things I can never take back.
And now I'm here, blind, and unsure.
Forgive me my caution when I know what I am capable of.
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[ She's stubborn on this point, even if she softens to less rage and more empathy, understanding. She cannot know what it is like for him--this is something they don't share. But she understands it better than anyone else. She has seen more of it. He has let her. ]
If you want to move beyond him, you need to let it go. He made you think there was no way back, but there is. But you have to believe in more than protecting yourself.
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( the fear was like a toothache: a low, persistent throb of pain that had become a part of who he was to such an extent that imagining it being gone was ... impossible, once. )
And what if I do not know who I am without the anger.
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[ That's why she's here now. That's why she's been here the whole time, despite her reservations. As long as he's accepting it, she'll give it.
She trudges down those steps, reaches for his arm. For a moment, she hesitates, leaving her hand there. Then she leans forward, tipping her forehead against his chest and sighing. He's right there. She can feel it. ]
You're not alone.
errybody all in here
she has a leather jacket pulled on over her cocktail dress, stubbornly, and black flats on instead of heels to ruin the overall fashionable affect she has tried to cobble together. it's better than she could usually manage. when they enter through the doors, rey ducks around kylo and the doorman and makes an over-eager effort to search out daisy and illya first thing.
it'd be nice to avoid speaking to anyone. ]
who needs the men
but thankfully, the small foyer and the bemused receptionist help to make quick work of locating her friend, and so it only takes a few minutes for daisy to reach the other girl, a hand reaching out to curl around rey's fingers and tug for her attention. ]
Hey, [ quiet, reassuring, as rey's neck cranes to look in the other direction. ] Sorry we're late.
[ a beat. ]
You look great.
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so, before too long, he's sliding into a seat at the table, giving rey a quick nod and something close to a smile before his gaze settles on the other man. tall (but not as tall as him) and stony in a way that illya recognizes because it is an expression that he puts forth quite a bit. ]
Hello.
[ an all around good greeting there. one word but it says so much so he doesn't have to immediately jump into being a conversationalist since he is terrible at that. ]
Good to see you again. I'm glad you wore the dress.
[ it had taken them some time to locate the right one, after all, but he'd wondered if she'd wear it or go with something more comfortable. ]
daisy & illya, pre-dinner.
don't look, she tells him.
she'd like the whole thing to be a surprise, really. an opportunity for him to look at her the way he had that recent afternoon in the vyonation lobby, to see her in something other than everyday wear or one of his shirts. he might not be a fashion consultant in real life, but she knows he still has taste.
so she makes him wait in the living room until she's ready, until her head peeks out the doorframe and calls him in, beckoning him to come and help.
she needs a zipper pulled, after all. ]
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everything is neat and tailored, fitted to his height and width so nothing sags or looks too tight anywhere. it's comfortable but it would still never be his favorite thing to wear.
but, he's at least ready by the time she gets home and thus, he stays in the living room, drinking water and idly scrolling through the network until she gets his attention. ]
Do I have to close my eyes?
[ well, she'd been so secretive about the dress that she might just want assistance for a moment before shoving him out of the room again. ]
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[ honestly, illya, use your brain. and your eyes, too, for that matter. if he does, he'll notice her expression in the mirror, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she peeks at his silhouette in the doorway through the reflection of the mirror.
by now, she's mostly ready. they'd set dinner late enough that she was able to come back from work without worrying about staying too late, and now that she'd had a chance to shower and dry her hair, all that was left was just zipping up her dress. then she'd be done, ready to go; they'd have a little time to kill, but she wouldn't have to rush. ]
What do you think?
[ about her dress. ]
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[ but it is easier to do it with his eyes open. he takes the zipper in his hands and pushes it upwards until the it rests against the top of the dress. that done, he lets it go and brushes his hands briefly down her shoulders. ]
Turn around so I can see.
[ he steps back so he can take in the full effect of the dress. it's absolutely on purpose that he puts his hands into his pockets. he knows what he's going to want to do and they're about to go to a fancy dinner.
that has to wait. ]
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instead, she turns; it's not quite a model spin, not quite as smooth as the swooshing skirt flare she'd done in the dressing room. it's ... shier, almost, a slow rotation on bare feet as she turns to face him. she's not totally sure what to do with her hands. his are in his pockets, but she doesn't have pockets — should she hold them outright, scarecrow style? rest them on her hips? let them dangle like the ends of spaghetti noodles from limp arms?
who knows, really. she just... doesn't know, so she shrugs a bit, and tries to play it off as a pseudo vanna white impression. ]
It's too late for you to tell me you hate it, for the record. The shop's already closed and they don't give refunds.
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[ he doesn't hate it at all. there is nothing to hate about this dress. he doesn't know what to say about it for the moment. instead, he stares, eyes widened slightly and desperately trying not to bite his lip.
when he realizes he's just been staring at her, he finally shakes himself free and steps back closer, letting his fingers trail down one of her arms until he can snag two of her fingers with his. ]
You look beautiful. [ of course she does. ] You're stunning.
[ and that's that. ]
rly cute faces at midnight thx
the soft flush on her cheeks does a damn good enough job as it is.
he looks good as well, though she doesn't think he needs her to tell him that. fashion consultants, even false ones, should know how to dress themselves, and the cut of his suit so perfectly done tells her that he knows damn well how to do it. but he does look good, and so it's reason enough for daisy to lean that much closer in, stepping up on bare tiptoes to brush her lips against the line of his jaw. ]
Thanks for not shaving.
[ since he threatened to. ]
G R O S S
[ his razors were exactly where they were supposed to be. he just hadn't bothered to shave. soon, he was going have to at least trim it to make sure it didn't go from neat to unkempt but he was still good for now. ]
I'll shave tomorrow.
[ he wouldn't. ]
You're lovely. [ just in case she needed more compliments. ] I'm lucky.
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Me too. [ lucky, that is. it feels strange to say it out loud. like admitting this whole arrangement is more than just... convenient. practical. she'd given his address for the delivery of a dress that was more expensive than her last month's worth of meals, but she'd justified it as practicality. he was home, she was at work. it didn't make sense to have a dry-cleaned dress delivered to her office.
but... well. there was also the part where, when daisy thought about going home after work, she'd slowly stopped thinking of the flat she shared with two colleagues and more about the apartment whose key hung around her neck. ]
We have a little time. [ before they have to leave. ] What do you want to do?
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Television?
[ it seemed like the safest thing to do, did it not? they could sit and watch one program while they were dressed up and no one would get mussed and then they would be off.
simple. ]
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On the couch?
[ is that really any better? ]
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I'll even let you choose the program.
[ maybe it would be mindless enough to distract him from thoughts that should wait till later.
anyway, he gives her hand a tug and starts to walk them out towards the living room and the couch. it was a nice couch. a totally innocent, nice couch. ]
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but that's what daisy does, because she's a grown adult who can make her own decisions. besides, she hasn't really seen him very much today, so it's okay if she enjoys the last few minutes of whatever time they have to kill up close and personal... right?
probably not, but she's doing it anyway. ]
I like your suit, by the way. [ it's gonna be wrinkled now. sad trombone. ] Very chic.
[ since when does daisy johnson say chic ]
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Chic. I do not think I've ever heard that word applied to me before. But thank you. I am glad it works for a night out.
[ because it was the only suit he had at the current time and he hadn't wanted to buy a whole new one just yet if this one was appropriate. ]
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[ that horrible cover. she can't wait for someone to realize what a bad lie it is and call him out on it, but for now, she'll just tease him about it in private. ]
Maybe we could do this again sometime, and you can wear it more.
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[ just not as much as he purports to know. ]
We can do it again. With the others? Or just you and I?
[ either one is fine. he's just curious as to what she's thinking about. ]
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but she knows, sitting in the living room all dressed up before they have to leave, that this isn't something she'd only want to do once. so maybe she can be honest about this, and that'll be enough. it's not a push, really. not a demand. just a request. ]
Just the two of us. [ a beat, and yet another casually murmured disclaimer. ] If that's something you'd want to do.
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All right.
[ it's easy to agree to something he's never really done outside of a job. but, he's going out tonight and it is not for work so he thinks he can manage to do it with just her and not ruin things too badly. ]
I think we should. [ he nods and gives her knee a gentle squeeze. ] Whenever the mood strikes and schedules are open, we can go.
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she doesn't mean to. it just... happens. instinct, familiarity, muscle memory; call it what you like, but it's just the natural path of being so close, of being in a familiar place. somewhere, in some part of daisy's mind, where it's safe to let her guard down enough to close her eyes.
maybe they should get going, but this is what she's doing right now. ]
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no, he'll take...partial blame. because this sort of thing is a two person job and as soon as her lips meet his, he responds, eagerness and wanting flooding through him. it would be wise not to let himself get too overwhelmed since they do have to leave and they are dressed nicely but...maybe a little overwhelmed?
a little would be all right, wouldn't it? he can straighten his clothes and she can straighten hers and nothing would be amiss. this was fine. under control. ]
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what was that they said about best laid plans?
best of intentions aside, daisy forgets all of her carefully planned scheduling all too quickly, her attentions sliding to focus on the warm give-and-take the empathy bond provides. these days, there's little surprise in it. warmth, more so than anything else; mutually given, the hint of desire that swells each time their mouths meet, but trust and contentment and comfort surrounding it. it's not desperate or needy, just. familiar.
it's only once a neighbor's car alarm sounds in the distance that daisy pulls away, eyes squinting at the clock on the wall only to flutter wide in recognition. ]
Oh, shit, [ a hurried press of her lips to his, and then she's scrambling to her feet, doing her best to smooth out the twists in the straps on her shoulders from his wandering hands. ] Come on. We're gonna be so late.
[ if they take the groundtram, that is. she's already flicking through options on the driverless taxi service they took last time, trying to see if the rates will work. it's pricier than she would like, but, well. she'd rather be broke than lose the reservation.
or worse, make rey think they left her there on purpose. ]
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he's never been the slow one but he's slow right now, trying to recover from the gradual slide he'd been taking into getting caught up and lost in touching her. it hasn't gotten to the point where he needs to excuse himself and adjust his pants but a few more moments and that would have happened.
no, he's only to the point of licking his lips, straightening his hair and eventually rising to his feet. his suit's a little wrinkled but he does his best to brush the worst of them out. ]
We will get there. Don't panic. [ he wasn't going to let her pay for it all on her own either. so, they could take a taxi and get there quick enough. ] If we leave now, we'll be a few minutes late. It happens.
[ and it wouldn't be worse because she'd been the responsible one and noticed the time. ]