Vaughn could have seen himself with Ilya in another life. He would have gotten Ilya out of his relationship in a normal way, not through killing. He could picture the little dates and handholding, waking up in the early hours to roll over and wrap the male back up in his arms. But it was unrealistic. He was a serial killer. He didn’t even own a proper bed. He simply slept on a cot in the back room of the gas station he lived in. They walked to the table and sat down, ordering a water for himself.
Ilya ordered a lemonade and went straight to staring at the menu, a bit overwhelmed by all the options. Usually, when he ate out, he let Damian pick what he ate so it wouldn't get spun into an argument that inevitably ended with Ilya in pain on the floor. Now, with Damian not even a passing concern, the power to choose was intoxicating. And also a little scary. "What do you normally get?"
Vaughn flipped through the menu, clicking his tongue softly as he did so. He could see out of the corner of his eye that the figure was sitting next to him, staring at him. He wished he could tell it to go away, but he couldn’t. Not in front of Ilya. “I usually get a bacon cheeseburger,” he responded, and that’s what he would get this time.
Ilya nodded, latching onto the preference like a lifeline. "I'll get that then. And…" He scanned the desert menu, hoping that Vaughn would like whatever he picked. "Um… I'll get the apple pie, for us to split." When he finally looked up at Vaughn, searcing for approval or dislike in his eyes, he realized the man was staring off into space. "Vaughn? Are you alright?"
Vaughn nodded his head at the mention of he spoke pie, that being his answer to say it was alright. His mom used to make her best apple pie. She would surprise him and Adeline with it sometimes- and it was the best. She added her own little things, it being a secret recipe of sorts. He was so lost in thought and staring at the figure as it spoke to him that he almost missed Ilya speaking to him. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I’m just thinking.”
Ilya smiled as Vaughn accepted his proposal but his happiness was snuffed out by the faraway look in his eyes. Was he mad? Disappointed? Trying to pretend he liked it to keep Ilya settled? Or was this a test of some sort, something he would use later to pick a fight? Ilya shook his head, trying to brush away the thoughts. Vaughn wasn't Damian. "We can get something else if you don't like it! Maybe… um… cake? Or ice cream? Whatever you want."
Vaughn shook his head, holding up a hand. The movement flashed his tattoo again now that he was just in a short sleeved shirt. “No no, we can get the pie. It just.. reminds me of someone,” he said, not meeting Ilya’s gaze as he spoke. His knee bounced under the table, and the waitress came. He ordered their burgers for them, and soon they were alone again.
Ilya flinched away as Vaughn held up a hand, ducking his head instinctively to minimize the damage of a blow. He fidgeted with the edges of Vaughn's hoodie, ashamed at the reaction. This was his body, he should be able to keep it from spazzing out every time Vaughn did so much as move in his direction. "Oh. Who? Is it…" he paused, trying to remember the name on his tattoo. "Adeline?"
Vaughn’s brows raised when Ilya flinched, so he rested his hand back down against the table. He did happen to noticeably tense when Ilya said his late sisters name. He turned his head away, biting his tongue sharply. “I-.. No, not her,” he responded, tone being laced with slight pain. He could picture his sister. She looked just like his mom, having thick blonde hair that was all corkscrew curls. She had big grey eyes and light toned skin. She was small and had a lisp, something she always got bullied on the playground for.
Ilya frowned when Vaughn tensed and turned away, nearly wincing at the pain in his voice when he spoke. It had been so long since his worry had been directed at someone else that the feeling was almost foreign. He rested a hand on the table in front of him, palm up, a clear invitation for Vaughn to take it. "I'm sorry! I didn't know that was a… um… a sensitive topic. I won't bring her up again."
Vaughn’s gaze shifted to look at Ilya’s hand. He slowly rested his hand over Ilya’s smaller one, letting out a small breath. “It’s ok, you didn’t know. Adeline was my little sister,” he explained hesitantly. He hated saying she was that. It made it so clear she wasn’t around anymore.
Ilya squeezed his hand comfortingly before he interlaced their fingers. The way Vaughn spat out the was let Ilya know everything he needed about why it was a hard topic to speak about. He wanted to let Vaughn know that they had something in common- that he knew what it was like to lose a family member too- but he couldn't form the words. "I'm still sorry I brought her up. I… It wasn't my intention to stir up painful memories. And… um… thank you. For telling me about her."
Vaughn nodded his head a bit, brushing his fingers through his hair. “I know it wasn’t. But yeah, you’re welcome,” he responded. He knew he was being a tad short, but that’s only because he didn’t want to continue on with the conversation. “Anyways. After this I’ll go to where I’m staying and pick up a few things, then head over.”
Ilya accepted the change of subject without protest, fiddling quietly with the fringe of Vaughn's sweater as he realized he was going to be alone after their meal. It shouldn't have surprised him, really. Vaughn was busy doing things- he didn't have time to hang out with Ilya all day and even if he did he wouldn't want to. "Oh." His tone betrayed his disappointment. "I'll just… wait in the house for you, then."
Vaughn heard the disappointment in Ilya’s voice. “It won’t be long,” he told the male. He scratched at the stubble on his jaw with his free hand in thought. “You always could come with me,” he offered after a moment of silence. The figure hissed. Of course it was a bad idea. But he wanted to do it.
Ilya smiled in disbelief, squeezing his hand gratefully. "Really!?" He cringed at his overenthusiasm. "I… um… I don't want to impose but I think it would be nice to… to spend some more time with you." He blushed, holding Vaughn's hand tightly. "That is… if you want me around! I don't want to force you into anything."
Vaughn’s faint smile came back when Ilya smiled and squeezed his hand. “Yeah, you can come, I don’t mind. I can make an exception for you,” he drawled, even giving a small, quick wink. He could be more on the charming side when he needed to be. Besides, he knew it was bad, but he wanted to explore his attractions towards Ilya.
Ilya's blush deepened and he squeezed Vaughn's hand tighter, trying to reign in the wild emotions he was feeling. Vaughn didn't need someone like him hanging around, no matter how flirty he was at the moment. No matter how much Ilya wanted to latch onto him and never let go. It was probably just a joke anyway, nobody really liked him as anything more than a punching bag. "Exception? What… um… what does that mean?"
Right. Vaughn had to explain that. “I never really spend this much time with my clients,” he said, clearing his throat afterwards. “I do meet up with them once or twice before I do my thing but.. I don’t find myself seeking that time out like I want to now. I especially usually don’t hold hands with them or invite them to see my home,” he said with a nervous little chuckle.
"Oh." Ilya looked at their hands on the table, something small and victorious fluttering in his chest. It was nice to know that he was special to someone. Especially if that someone was Vaughn, all gentle touches and little gifts and things Ilya had never gotten to appreciate before. "I'm glad." He flushed. "I… um… I really like doing this with you. You feel… safe. And warm. And I… I'd like to be around you… um… even after you finish this job. If you'd like that."
Vaughn licked his lips to wet them, his fingers twitching in the slightest. He listened to Ilya talk about how he felt. He didn’t have many people genuinely liking him. Sure he’s gotten hit on by women at bars before, but that didn’t mean anything to him. Ilya was different though. Ilya liked him for how he acted. He found it so hard to believe. “I’d like that too but.. you wouldn’t be scared? They’ve labeled me a serial killer.”
Ilya hardly even flinched as Vaughn's hand twitched, more of a reflexive jolt than anything else. He sagged in relief when Vaughn returned his feelings, hands trembling slightly. This was nothing short of a miracle. "They've labeled Damian a hero. And you're… careful with how you treat me. You're trustworthy. No matter what they call you, your actions prove otherwise."
Vaughn let out a soft breath, allowing his eyes to shut for a moment. He felt the figures breath against his neck. ’Are you happy now? Now you have another person to look after. What happens when he sees the gas station? Or maybe when he wants you to stop killing?’ it hissed. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about that. He had never considered stopping doing what he was doing. Not for years, at least. “Does Damian know anything about me? About my case?” he asked.
Ilys took a moment to think, shuffling through all of Damian's complaints in his head. Damian rarely spoke about his job with Ilya, but he often complained to him about it. "He does, but… not much. It's.. um… it's not his department, they have a special unit for you. So… uh… he just knows what's on the news."
Right, they had their own special unit for cases like Vaughn’s. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What does he think from the news? Is he not worried at all? They’ve said they know I go after abusers- he should be nervous,” he said, trailing off into a mumble at the end.
