#videsnoir

𝙃e'd only meant to drop her off. pull up outside her work and walk her to the door. twenty minutes have slipped through the cracks and they're still parked at the curb. roxi's settled in his lap and bucky's finding it harder by the second to remember why he thought he'd be back on the road by now. sooner or later something's bound to interrupt them. somebody tapping the glass. a passing intruder. his phone deciding now's the perfect goddamn time to ring. somebody needing her. somebody needing him. something always comes looking.

he's hoping for none of it. because the thought of watching her get out of the car, touch up her lipstick and disappear through those doors while he drives alone — 𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃. that'd hurt. she's folded against him, soft thighs warm where they bracket his hips, fingernails gliding along the side of his throat. light enough to leave gooseflesh in their wake.

mouth finds hers again on instinct. before reason. before restraint, chasing the next kiss before she's finished giving it. he's survived wars. survived decades spent answering to men who carved pieces out of him and stitched together whatever they needed back. none of it prepared him for a woman who could reduce a lifetime of hardwired instincts to an afterthought with nothing more than the brush of her mouth. metal fingers slip from the steering wheel without so much as conscious thought, cool fingers spreading over the warmth of her waist. flesh follows, broad palm slipping under the fabric of her dress, pulling her even closer. forehead tips against hers.

the taillights from the retreating car slowly dips from his line of sight, the driver seemingly eager to be rid of his unnerving presence, and that suited vale just fine. dirtied, clothes torn, and his lip cracked with dried blood, he couldn't blame the driver for being cautious. the approaching steps to the front door were quick not long after he knocked, the welcomed sight of his dear evelyn a bright light upon a darkened evening. though her vision swept, noting how uncommonly disheveled he looked, eyes lingering on his lip before ushering him inside.

the ruined garments of his coat and shirt lay in pile upon the bathroom floor, vale sat, eerily calm and void of almost everything as eve dabbed away at the varying cuts and scraps upon his person. it had been bad that night, poor james was rather shaken, and levi and quinn had decided to stay with him rather than venture out with their respective dates. their client, would make a decent recovery surely, and the demon that clawed and thrashed so long within her body had been banished for good. but still, most of the blood on his clothes was not his.

vale had needed something, he was restless, pacing the motel room until it finally grew too much into a cage. he knew not what it was, until she stood before him. it was simply her. her presence, that gentle aura that sang directly to his soul. already he felt himself feeling almost entirely human again, despite the exhaust, despite the aches and pains, here was where he felt like he could heal. happy with her work, she stands upright, leading him out to her room, to her bed, a soft push downwards onto the plush blankets with little fight.

it's then vale finally smiles, with her hands cradling his face, though he can clearly see there is something lays on eve's mind. summer wood eyes rest upon his lip, a question hanging there, one he would happily answer for her. tugging such beauty down, her weight settles on his lap, mouths crashing, the sting of such a kiss making him groan. the scent of copper takes over, bitter iron creeping upon his tongue but still he couldn't stop, and seemingly neither could she. chasing that crimson wine, she lay up him, nails dragging through dark auburn strands, pulling his head back enough to forcibly stop him. devil.

The heat felt almost cruel - even with the day winding down to dusk the air was suffocating and laced with exhaust fumes and gasoline. It had been desperation that had led forest through the mechanic shop doors a few weeks ago, with no money he had become stranded and a summers worth of work seemed to be the only way out. He kept his head down while he was here, avoiding eyes, avoiding conversations, hiding in motor swaps and belt changes, uneasy with the idea that one wrong exchange would end with the inevitable "hey wait a minute - aren't you that guy who chopped up his family?"

That's why he relished this time of day, when the other workers had gone home for the evening in an attempt to beat the late afternoon heat, leaving him alone - or well, almost alone. Hanna was still here, which really was no surprise, she worked harder than every asshole at the shop combined. The thought of her tapped the inside of his skull when his break to the gas station next door for cigarettes left him walking past a cherry coke. Maybe the fumes had gotten to his head when he set it down at the counter along with a pack of Marlboros, walking back into the shop and holding it out towards the girl, the frosted red can a stark comparison to the grease stained and mangled hand holding it.