pets
(hey, of course! i would love to. i'll read through the rp and then reply to the message, just so i can refresh myself on the writings. im glad you reached out and i hope youre doing well! i will reply in a couple of minutes!)
(thanks so much! I'm doing pretty alright these days, it's nice to see you again! I hope you're doing alright too!)
pets
(that's good to hear i'm doing pretty good at the moment too. i just finished reading through the rp so i'll type up a reply now!)
pets
Vaughn's brows raised in the slightest when Ilya scooted away from him, mumbling that quick apology. His head tilted to the side in the slightest in a wondering sort of way. "Hey, it's ok.." he started in his usual, gentle tone, "Remember before when I mentioned getting scraped up? It's just on my side a tad bit. I'm ok. You can come back over if you would like." He slightly lifted the hard that had been around Ilya's waist, keeping the area next to him open for Ilya if he wished to scoot back over.
Like always, Ilya found himself unsure of whether to take what Vaughn said at surface value. It was so much safer to read into things—to take into account tone and expression and body language and every tiny thing that might help him gauge the mood of the person he was talking to—so for a few moments he just sat, eyes skimming anxiously across Vaughn's body. His cheeks went pink as he leaned in again, shame coloring his fair skin. "Oh. I… I didn't…" The words came out all stuttery. Who was he, to question Vaughn's intentions? The man had been nothing but sweet to him and he still trembled when the man's fingers so much as twitched. "… I didn't remember, I'm sorry. I'm overreacting, aren't I?"
pets
When Ilya leaned back against his side, Vaughn murmured that he was going to lower his arm again before he actually made the movement, not wanting to startle the obviously anxious boy. He rested his arm back around Ilya's waist gently, opening his hand to offer it for Ilya to hold if he would like. "It's alright, Ilya. I'm not judging you or anything along those lines because of your reactions. I'm very patient, I've been through it all so I understand. Just take your time with things when you need to, and I'll follow your lead so you can be comfortable."
It earned a small jolt anyways, but Ilya forced himself to relax. He took the offered hand with something close to defiance, only sparing a few glances up at Vaughn before he laced their fingers together. Exceedingly bold, to touch him so carelessly, but the comfort he got when Vaughn didn't push him away was enough to start bleeding the tension from his delicate frame. There was a moment where he didn't answer, unsure, and then he was gasping out a quiet "oh" and trying to pretend like this wasn't something completely unheard of. Patient, Vaughn said, like anyone had ever been patent with him before.
"You… you don't have to do that," he managed weakly, bowing his head. It would be too much, to see the truth in Vaughn's eyes right now. The sincerity. "I'm no good in the lead and… and I don't… ah…. I don't know how…"
pets
Vaughn smiled gently when Ilya took hold of his hand. After their fingers were laced together, he softly rubbed little circles on the back of Ilya's hand. It was a way to keep himself occupied, so he would hopefully refrain from twitching and getting too bothered by the voices in the back of his mind. He tilted his head down in the slightest as Ilya looked away from him. "That's ok, then. How about we take this on side by side? As equals, you know? It might help you get more comfortable," he suggested.
He lifted his free hand, moving it slowly to gently brush his fingers against Ilya's jaw, tilting his head up in the slightest- just enough so he could see Ilya's eyes. "Do you trust me, Ilya? Do you trust that I can keep you safe and take care of you?" he asked softly, thumb gently brushing against Ilya's jaw.
Ilya melted a little as soft circles were rubbed into his hand, all but evaporated when Vaughn brought out the word equals. It was no less foreign than patience or comfort or any of the other things that he was being promised but it was endlessly more attractive. To be the same as someone, to be on even footing… it was almost too much for him to think about. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you interpreted it, it didn't take much to distract him.
He flinched when Vaughn's fingers brushed along his face and leaned into the warmth of his palm right after, eyes all wide and thoughts gone right out the window. His breath wobbled out before Vaughn was ever running over his jaw, and after he'd done it, after Ilya had felt the soft scrape of those callouses over his tender skin, his focus all but shredded itself.
He hadn't been treated like this in a very long time. His pupils were blown, just a little, and he didn't have the presence of mind to flick his eyes around so they stayed settled on Vaughn's face, unreadable. It wasn't even the touch that had him floored, it was the fact that he did feel safe, right now, with his face cradled in the hand of a stranger. That Vaughn made him feel good and safe and cherished, somehow. "I… yeah. Yes, I… I do."
pets
Vaughn’s lips twitched up in the slightest, forming a warm and little smile. It was a genuine one, one that made his eyes squint in the slightest and faint dimples indent his cheeks. He looked into those brown puppy dog eyes that Ilya had, his own grey ones seeming concentrated on them. He liked eye contact. It helped to form connections.
When Ilya confirmed that he did feel safe, Vaughn gave a little nod of his head. “Good, I’m glad to hear,” he replied. For a split second, his gaze flickered down to Ilya’s soft appearing lips. The voices were right about Ilya being attractive. It was such a temptation for Vaughn. He had not allowed himself to be touched like the way he was being touched now in so long and it made him feel quite emotional. He wanted to let those emotions out so very desperately to get rid of the pressure building up inside of him like the waves of water in the ocean pulling back before a tsunami strikes the shore.
He cleared his throat gently, feeling a cold hand grip his shoulder. It was figure, of course. And what do you think you’re doing? You have to kill in around two hours. Get your head out of the gutter and save it for later, the tall mass of shadows hissed into his ear. His gaze shifted back to where the pie sat on the table, then to Ilya’s face once again. “You should finish your pie, if you would like. Either that or we can take it to go so you can have some later,” he suggested, keeping the warm smile on his lips.
Ilya avoided eye contact most of the time, always flicking away as quickly as he could so he wouldn't give away how he was feeling. There was none of that now. Vaughn's hand was warm on his jaw and his grey eyes were so intent that Ilya couldn't bear to glance away, even for a second. He was beautiful, to sum up the raging, disjointed tide of Ilya's thoughts. He was beautiful and kind and seemed, in that moment, like something very close to an angel.
Ilya's eyes were all lit up with adoration, wide pupils, brown shrunk down to two tiny rings. He wanted very badly to be kissed right then, tilted his head up slightly to accept it, but then Vaughn was glancing away and the moment fell to pieces.
"Oh! I… ah… I don't mind either way." His pulse beat hard in his neck, fluttery and fast. He hadn't pulled away yet, despite the disappointment that began seeping into him, the touch too comfortable and too nice for him to bear pulling away from. "Whatever you want, you… you've done so much for me, Vaughn." He turned slightly, tucking his face into Vaughn's palm. "So much, I don't want to be a bother."
pets
Vaughn clicked his tongue softly, looking back over at the pie. “We still have to walk to my home, get to yours, and set up… We can take it to go,” he said. When Ilya pressed his face closer to his palm, he felt a small spark of warmth in his chest. There was something endearing about the motion.
Vaughn tilted his head and motioned for the server to come over. After asking for a to-go box, and later receiving it, he packed the pie away into the box. He decided he would carry it for now so that Ilya didn’t have to. They were given the bill and Vaughn took out his wallet from his sweatpants, pulling out a couple of the paper bills. He set them on the table, making sure to leave extra for a tip. “Are you ready?”
Ilya wasn't exactly thrilled to get up but he followed Vaughn out of the shop and back into the street without complaint. It didn't feel strange not to pay but it was a bit odd to hold a takeout box in his hands and know that it was his. It wasn't even very much pie—he'd only eaten about half before they got up to leave—but it was given freely and it meant the world to him. His free arm was wrapped as securely as possible around Vaughn's, holding him close as they made their way out again. "What… ah… what do we do, now? Do I have to… um… to go b-back?"
pets
Vaughn glanced down at Ilya as the male clung to this arm while they walked. He chuckled quietly to himself, glancing back ahead at the sidewalk. “No, not yet. We’re going to go to my place now so I can grab a few things, then we will go back to yours to wait until Damian gets home,” he replied in a steady tone.
The gas station was only around a 15 minute walk away. Once they finally arrived, it was obvious the place was abandoned. He went to the door and dug out the keys from his pocket, unlocking the glass door and opening it up, holding it open for Ilya. Once they were both inside, he flicked on the fluorescent lights, showing the shelves of items and the counter in the back. “This is it,” he stated, scratching the back of his neck in a slightly embarrassed sort of manner. It wasn’t even close to a real home.
"And you'll be with me until…" His voice trembled lightly, grip on Vaughn's arm growing slightly tighter. "… until he gets there?" It was hard to think about going back. The house had been his prison for a long time and he dreaded it almost as much as he dreaded his encounters with Damian. The whole place had transformed over the years from a safe space to a cage, and even the gas station seemed luxurious in comparison.
Sure, it wasn't exactly a home, but light came in through the windows and it didn't stink of smoke and booze and cheap bleach. Mostly, it smelled like Vaughn, like the hoodie Ilya was still swaddled in, and some kind of lemony cleaning spray. "It's… um… it's nice." He glanced around, taking in the shelved, the counter. "Where… ah… where do you sleep, though? I don't se a bed or… or anything."
pets
“Mm, I’ll still be there. I’m going to try and get a feel for the layout of your place and find somewhere to wait so I can catch him by surprise. You can stay here at the gas station if you would like. It’s not a pretty sight. But if you want to come, you’ll have to stay hidden. I don’t want you to get hurt in the process of things,” Vaughn explained, leading Ilya over to the counter.
“The bed is back over here,” he hummed. He led Ilya behind the counter and down a very short hallway to where there was a door. He opened it and flicked on the lights. The room appeared to be one that should have been a storage room, but Vaughn had done some renovations. There was a cot on the floor with a little mattress on it, blankets piled on top. There was a couple of boxes of clothing and other items that were sitting on shelves that were on the other side of the room. There was also a door in the room, and behind that door would be a small bathroom that included a shower.
The offer to stay far, far away from Damian while everything went down had been much easier to turn away when it was still a distant thing, more of a hope or a wish than a plan. Ilya wanted to accept. He wanted to stay here, maybe bundled up in a few blankets or maybe sitting patiently in the corner, but he knew that if he did, he'd never really feel safe. Damian was a monster, and monsters didn't die until you saw them go down with your own two eyes. "No, no I… um… I'm okay. I need to be there, if… if that's alright?"
He glanced up at Vaughn, checking his reaction, and then made like he was checking out the bedroom. There wasn't much to focus on but he tried anyways, pulling Vaughn a little further into the room so he could peek at all the boxes and examine the cot. It wouldn't be so bad, sleeping here. He wouldn't get the bed, of course, but maybe he'd get a few blankets to make sleeping on the floor more comfortable, and Vaughn would be there too, big and strong and hopefully enough to ward off any nightmares. "I get to stay with you after, right?"
pets
Vaughn glanced down at Ilya, slight concern in his eyes. Ilya wanted to see him kill Damian. He was worried that would traumatize Ilya even more than he already was, but he couldn’t stop Ilya. He wanted the male to grow comfortable knowing he could make his own decisions. The last thing he wanted to do was boss Ilya around. “That’s ok. Just keep your distance a bit, alright? I don’t want you to get hurt in the scuffle,” he hummed.
He allowed Ilya to look around the room. He didn’t have much to hide. He wasn’t worried about Ilya finding some of his more private things- which he kept tucked far under his raised cot. When Ilya brought up where he would be staying, it made Vaughn think a bit. Ilya had a home, but still wanted to stay with Vaughn. This place was barely suitable for one person, but two? Then again, he could make it work for a bit. He could use his monthly allowance from his therapist and foster family to set Ilya up in a hotel room if he wanted that. “Yeah, you can stay with me once this is all over,” he agreed with a small nod, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile.
Ilya nodded. He didn't like guns, the scent of them or the sound of them, but he needed to see it. He needed to be there. "Thank you," he mumbled, retreating a little closer to Vaughn's side. "For… for letting me go and letting me stay here and… and everything. I don't… um… I don't know how to repay you." Vaughn had told him there was no need, but he wanted to. He hadn't felt hopeful for a very long time and now he did. Hope flitted in his heart like a little bird, fragile and new, and he would give Vaughn anything in return for it. "But… I will. I promise I will, and… and I… I want you to let me, while… um…while I'm here."
pets
Vaughn listened to what Ilya had to say. While he really didn’t want to accept anything as payment for his work, he also didn’t want to deny Ilya. “Alright. But it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant, ok? I’m doing this because I want to, but if you want to do something in return, you can,” he said. He glanced around the room before looking back down at Ilya.
“I have a bit to get ready before we head to your house. You can make yourself comfortable here. You can shower, nap, or do whatever else you want,” Vaughn explained. He wanted Ilya to get comfortable in the new environment. There wasn’t anything else to show him- and his private things were tucked away- so he thought it would be best to let Ilya decide what he wanted to do next.
Ilya nodded, happy just to have the privileged of doing something because he wanted it. "Thank you," he murmured, glancing up at Vaughn with his eyes blown all wide again. Awestruck, or maybe just grateful, it didn't matter much. He was happy. The excitement dimmed a little when Vaughn had to leave to get ready but he didn't cling, not the way he wanted to. He dipped his head in an obedient nod, let go of Vaughn's arm, and found a nice corner to sit down in while he waited.
It felt to presumptuous to take the bed, too rude to pull down blankets and make a nest, but the room wasn't cold enough that he needed them so he was happy. Sitting gave him time to think anyways, and he'd always been very good at disappearing into his head.
pets
Vaughn chuckled softly and nodded his head in reply to the ‘thank you’ that he was given. He stepped out into the main area, standing behind the counter. He reached over to the older looking radio, switching it on to a station that played classic rock music at a soft volume. He hummed along to a tune softly as he crouched down to look under the counter. He pulled out a duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder before standing. He headed back to the back room, dropping the duffel bag down onto the cot.
The music could still be heard lightly from the back room. Vaughn looked down at Ilya with a slightly tilted head. “Why are you sitting on the floor?” he asked. It couldn’t be comfortable. Why would Ilya do that when he could be sitting on the bed?
The music filtered through enough for Ilya to hum along to it, enjoying the muffled music and the small, easy to process room and everything Vaughn had given to him without so much as a second thought. He seemed almost surprised when the door opened again, tilting his head right back as he processed the question. It made his brows furrow a little—it seemed perfectly obvious to him—but then it clicked that this probably wasn't normal and his cheeks went all red
"I… I just… um… I didn't…" He fiddled with the hoodie, tugging the hood a little further forward, the hem a little lower. "… I didn't want to be a bother and… and I like the corner." His voice pitched up near the end, so it came out more like a question than a statement.
pets
Vaughn watched Ilya for a second before easing into a crouch, lips quirked into a smile. “As long as your comfortable. Sit wherever you would like,” he hummed turning away to face the duffel bag. He unzipped it, glancing over the contents inside. Inside was various weapons and materials- including guns, ammunition, knives, zip ties, rope, gasoline, and more.
But most importantly, was his mask. What kept him from being discovered and identified. It covered his whole face, having small eye holes on the front so he was able to see. It was a perfect image of the figure he always saw by his side. The mask was black, having scratch marks that scratched away the paint to show the white underneath. The scratches were in the formation of long, jagged, and sharp teeth. He made it look like Figure for a reason.
With that in mind, he clenched his jaw as he remembered that he had not told Ilya about his mental illness. It wouldn’t be as worrisome if he was getting proper treatment for it- which he wasn’t. He was taking medication, but it certainly wasn’t the right dosage because while his hallucinations weren’t severe, they weren’t completely gone either. How would he even bring that up with Ilya?
Ilya hadn't been expecting such an easy response so his smile was a little unbalanced when he flicked it towards Vaughn, though no less bright. He pushed himself up to his feet after a few moments, doing his best to keep from peeking into the duffle bag as he made himself comfortable at Vaughn's side again. There wasn't anything in it he cared to see, and anyways it was private.
"I am," he mumbled, after the silence stretched out a little too long. "I'm always comfortable around you. Is… um…" He glanced up, a little nervous to admit his feelings so plainly. "… is that okay? I know I don't really know you very well."
pets
Vaughn smiled faintly to himself as Ilya rested down next to him. He didn’t have to bring up his schizophrenia just yet. That could wait will after the job. He set the mask down and zipped up the duffel bag once again, tilting his head to look over at Ilya, who was now on the floor next to him.
He made sure to keep his hand in Ilya’s line of sight as he brought it up to caress Ilya’s cheek softly. “Yeah, of course that’s ok. I want you to be able to trust me and feel comfortable. I’m sure we will get to know each other much better soon,” he mumbled smoothly.
Ilya had been busying himself looking at Vaughn, his cheeks and his sharp eyes and the smooth just of his nose, but he glanced away hurriedly when Vaughn started looking back, cheeks flushed a dusty pink. The hand coming up towards was enough to focus on luckily—he didn't even flinch this time when the touch landed—and then he could lean into that like he'd done before at the restaurant too, which meant he got to pretend like he hadn't been caught admiring.
"Thank you," he mumbled, words shy and half muffled. "I… I hope I can get to know you too, you're… you're very good." There was a lot of feeling put into the word, a lot of emphasis. "It's nice. Most people aren't sweet like you are."
pets
Vaughn took note of how Ilya did not flinch at his touch. That was something that he appreciated greatly. For just a moment, his gaze flicked down to Ilya’s lips for the second time. He heard Figure snicker behind him, just out of sight. He looked back at Ilya’s eyes, brows quirking when he was called good.
That was such an interesting thing to say. Sure, he was a nice person. He had well manners and such. But he was also a serial killer. Surely that made him some sort of monster, didn’t it? Vaughn decided to not bring up that long topic at that moment. “Well thank you. My mom did a good job of raising me to be polite,” he started, the blonde, curly haired woman coming to his mind, “If I wasn’t polite, I had to do extra chores around the house, and obviously, for a kid, that was the absolute end of the world.” He was attempting at joking around. While his social skills weren’t completely polished off, he tried his best.
Ilya was pleased with himself too, pleased that he could let Vaughn touch him and not be scared. He looked down at Vaughn's lips too and then away, cheeks getting even more flushed as he realized. That wasn't right, probably. He wasn't supposed to go around kissing strangers all willy nilly, but Vaughn spoke like maybe they wouldn't be strangers for very long.
The attempt at humor earned a smile. Ilya wasn't the laughing type, not anymore, but he liked the way Vaughn talked when he wanted to be funny. It was endearing—and that probably wasn't right either, but feeling endeared and wanting to kiss someone were two very different things—and Vaughn deserved to know that he thought so. He wrinkled up his nose a little for emphasis, hiding that bright little grin in Vaughn's palm. "Yeah. Extra chores were a fate worse than death when I was little, I'd do anything to get out of them."
pets
Vaughn watched at Ilya’s nose scrunched up. He thought the movement was extremely endearing and hoped to see more of that subtle little movement. “Me too. I’d always be the one stuck doing them, though. My sister couldn’t be of much help, so I was always the one to do them,” he hummed with a little shake of his head.
Talking about his family life was a strange thing for him to be doing. He only talked about his family life with very few select people that he’s known for years- never a client like he was doing at that moment in time. He could practically hear the voices hissing words of warning to him.
