steelartisan: (sketching under the sky (with Logan))
[personal profile] steelartisan
Piotr is ensconced on a rock outside Milliways, with a large sketchpad in his lap and a pencil case sitting on his empty bag.

He's working with charcoal at the moment, and from memory. The image slowly taking shape is that of a woman, with long pale hair in a braid and a lopsided half-sad smile.

Date: 2008-07-29 05:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
Her smile warms under his. "Always, Piotr Nikolaievitch?" she teases. "There's no such thing as 'this is good enough'?"

(There is an old adage about a pot and a black kettle; Maya would like it, if she knew it.)

Date: 2008-07-29 05:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
The trying-not-to-laugh twist of her mouth says that she has taken his point, though is determined not to admit it.

"I don't know," she says, smile turning a touch softer. Her eyes flick down then back up to him, so fast that if it weren't for the telltale swift move of her eyelashes, it would be impossible to notice. "I don't see too much room for improvement here."

Date: 2008-07-29 05:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
"Me neither," she says, and while her eyes can't be as expressive as they once were -- they're locked on Piotr; that's for certain.

The plus -- or minus -- side of lacking pupils: it is exceedingly difficult to tell when her eyes slip to his smile, then hurriedly back up again.

"Not bad, for two incurable perfectionists."

Date: 2008-07-29 06:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
"I think we're doing just fine."

She shifts, too, in several nimble movements that leave her sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap.

If her knee bumps his in the process, it isn't on purpose -- but she isn't in a rush to move it once settled, either.

Date: 2008-07-29 01:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
Piotr Rasputin is a gentleman. If he were any more of one, Maya would kill him.

The time for patience and the slow, cautious dance is passing, she thinks, watching the sunlight play across his face; feeling that solid, warm point of contact between them. Maybe it's time to go for broke; to take a risk.

She takes a deep breath and says, "Piotr--" but the problem is, she hasn't thought beyond that. Her sense of conviction isn't much help.

Date: 2008-07-29 03:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
'Oh my God--' says Maya's disgusted courage, in what she always imagines as Alex Goncharova's voice. 'Would one of you just do it already?!'

Take a risk.

She doesn't allow herself time to think about it.

She reaches for him -- her palm on the back of his neck and her fingers slipping into the short hair at his temple, just behind his ear -- and she swiftly leans in and up and kisses him.

(Her heart is pounding.)

Date: 2008-07-29 05:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
He's kissing her back.

Maya didn't expect much different, but it's still a crushing relief; still a thrill. She eases off a little; the pressure of her lips turns less fierce, less desperate. She doesn't need to fight for him.

She brushes kisses along the line of his mouth, to the corner, and she lingers there before she leans back, just enough that she can see his eyes; not enough that she has to move her hand.

For a minute, she doesn't know what to say; for a minute, she really isn't thinking about it, because she's a little preoccupied with how hot her cheek is under his palm, and with smiling. Her face is shining.

"I got impatient," she says, and she almost laughs.

Date: 2008-07-29 06:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
Maya's smile turns softer -- more warm, less blinding, and no less pleased (if anything, even more so) -- with the caress, the confirmation, the surprise in his face.

(The flick of her eyes mirrors his, in the instant before his mouth finds hers.)

Using the element of surprise gives the attacker a tactical advantage, she thinks giddily, and Piotr will find himself kissing a smile, its wearer laughing just a little bit, just two breaths, before her fingers curl at the back of his neck and she stops thinking of the officers' handbook and starts thinking of Piotr instead.

Her other hand rests on Piotr's knee. His mouth is soft. The sun is warm on her upturned face. Maya thinks, for the first time in years, I could get used to this.

Date: 2008-07-30 05:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
There's a certain quiet care in her face, in the way that she squeezes his knee. "I haven't dated in ten years," she says, "and Piotr, I don't know how an interdimensional -- how does this even work--"

But Maya is borderline-laughing as she talks, swift and a touch giddy, words tumbling over each other. Her fingers are still at the nape of his neck; her smile is still aimed directly up at him, and it has grown dazzling again.

(She says 'haven't dated in ten years' and she thinks of Marcus; she can't not. It's been eleven years, and she didn't see anyone romantically before or after Marcus Antares; not til this very second. Once, the thought of Marcus just now would have stopped her cold.

Now, she remembers, Pray for the living, Maya -- imagines she feels a slight, warm breeze brush the back of her neck seconds after rustling through the trees -- and she smiles at Piotr.)

Date: 2008-07-30 10:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joiningyousoon.livejournal.com
"Okay," she says softly, and she curls her fingers around his, knowing -- without having to look -- that her hand is dwarfed by his. "Khoroshiy."

It will take effort to untangle their hands. She likes that. His hand is solid, warm; work-roughened but gentle, a steady weight over hers. She likes that, too.

Her left hand moves, sliding carefully to cup his jaw. She leans up and presses her lips to his again, slower this time; taking her time. It isn't for any particular reason, other than: she can, and she's happy, and she wants to.

They're a little intoxicating, those three reasons. Maya doesn't mind.

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Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin

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