V & V (wlw)

Chapter 8 - The one where they move in together

"Ass off my kitchen table."

Victoria, in defiance, slid slowly off the table edge and kept eye contact. It wasn't even her table anymore, but Ron was still compelled to say it.

She was finally moving into Vic's penthouse and she hadn't even packed. To be fair, she didn't have much stuff to bring anyway.

"Grab those for me," she gestured to the suits on the bed, lovingly placed in garment bags – proper ones, instead of the one she stole from the dry cleaner's.

"This is new," said Vic, holding up a leather riding coat. And it was – Ron had gone slightly mad with power when she had cash to burn.

Ron nodded and said, "This is all of it."

Victoria was not listening. "Are those the flowers I gave you?"

Veron followed her gaze, toward the bottle of wilted roses that she forgot to throw out. "Yop."

"Roses smell their best when they first bloom, and when they're dying."

"Aren't you romantic." Ron walked out of the front door, hauling as much as she could carry. Moments later, Vic followed, garment bags in her arms, the jacket slung over her shoulder.

At the stairwell, they encountered the landlord.

"You must be the girlfriend," he said, shaking Vic's free hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Ron," he said, turning to her. "I wanted to say goodbye. I'll miss your consistency, ha-ha. Take care, you both."

They got to their vehicles and dumped everything into the back of the car. Before Ron could take off to get to her bike, Victoria said, "Do you want a new motorcycle?"

"All right, first of all, you are not allowed to get me a motorcycle. Second, I could never leave the Nighthawk. This thing is half my personality." Ron straddled the bike. "I'll stop riding it when it gives out, or I do. Betting on me going first."

Victoria rolled her eyes, lips pressed together in a supressed smile, and got into her car. They headed to the tower.

Vic's secret third elevator helped them get from the parking garage straight to the office, where they got on another one to get to the top floor.

"Honey, I'm home," declared Ron, Victoria trailing behind her.

"Follow me to your room," said Victoria as she pushed past. "So you can put down your stuff."

Ron followed her in relief. She had been unsure if she was going to be staying in Victoria's bedroom - sharing a bed - for this arrangement, and she would have eaten the sheets before she asked.

They traipsed through the massive open-space living room, its outer wall made entirely out of glass panels that let the light in. Turning the bend at the corner kitchen, they stopped at a door far down the hallway on the other side. Vic opened it and walked in.

"This is as big as my old apartment," said Ron, spinning round to take a better look.

"Slightly bigger, I believe." Ron smacked her shoulder.

"Over here is the closet," said Victoria, walking out into the room slightly opposite hers. "My stuff is also in here, but there's space for you."

Veron whistled. "Never had a walk-in before. Never had enough clothes to even justify it."

"Then get more clothes."

"I don't need more," said Ron, mentally noting to ask Victoria who her tailor was.

"Well," said Vic, setting her stuff down on a chair. "I'll let you get settled. My room is next to yours, near the opening of the hallway, I'll be in there."

Veronika had walked back into her room and threw herself into bed, giving Vic a little wave as the latter shut the door for her.

Lying atop the covers, she glanced around the room. There was a massive TV that still had the film on the bezels, clearly new – or unused – and an expanse of what looked like a blank wall. Upon closer inspection, it was a large expanse of window blinds.

Veronika jumped up and inspected a panel on the wall. The buttons made her fingers itch and she pressed one.

A quiet mechanical hum sounded as the blinds retracted upward and Ron was hit with momentary regret as the full force of the late afternoon sun flooded through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, but it went as quickly as it came.

Some people hate cities for the same reasons others love them. To Veronika, a place like this was too big, too much to categorize in her head. All she knew was that, as she stared down at the golden people milling the streets, up here was just another place to fall in love with it all.

Ron left the blinds up and entered the other door in the room, and once again thanked herself for accepting the deal.

Her old bathroom was cramped, the shower wedged in a corner – she didn't even have a mirror in there and never had one put in. Now she had the widest rain attachment, and the tub was this see-through glass box big enough to fit two of her. Impractical, yes, but Ron wasn't complaining.

She ran the water and it filled quicker than she could unlace her boots. Soon Veron was submerged to the neck in hot water, eyes closed.

Ron looked around – she had spacious cabinets and what looked like actual marble countertops, and a mirror. One side was covered in blinds and she searched around for a panel. Fortunately, it was within reach from the tub.

Grappling for only a second with her previously-impossible, now-plausible fear of someone hanging outside cleaning the windows, she pressed the button to retract the blinds and stared at the skyline – she had never quite seen it from up this high before.

When she tore her eyes away from the windows to glance at her hand, she got out of the water before she shriveled.

Once excessively fluffy towel later, she padded out of the room in new loungewear – still shorts and a t-shirt, but this time not worn from four years of use. Ron approved of Victoria's flooring choice as she tiptoed on hardwood out into the hallway. Vic was nowhere to be found, so she took it upon herself to explore her home for the next year or so.

Skipping over Vic's office and bedroom, she opened the door by their shared closet. It was a pantry with very little things in it, and a littler percentage of that was canned food.

Ron exited that and went to the room on the other side of the closet door, which was just an un-dusty storage room with shelves and racks. She wanted to poke around in there but felt she hadn't ingratiated herself enough yet, so Ron left and headed for the last door she could see, the one next to her room. She heard sounds coming from it as she neared and didn't think anything of them when she entered.

Victoria was in there, stood facing the massive windows, back to the door as she absently lifted weights in both hands. Ron realized this was the first time she'd seen Vic's arms – the ridges and curves defined in the exercise - in a long while; Vic was only wearing a sports bra and Ron audibly scoffed – at herself, mostly – when her own eyes disobeyed her brain and dropped to look at Victoria's tight leggings.

Victoria, now alert to her presence, turned back, took an earbud out, and said in very controlled tones, "Excuse me?"

To which Ron took a step back and shut the door.