Best Served Cold - Katya X Reader

Chapter 21: You're Home

It took a lot of convincing, but eventually Katya started to speak with a therapist. Her caveat was that she got to decide who to see, when to see them. She needed someone discreet, someone she felt she could trust. You weren't going to argue; if she was getting the help she needed, that was enough for you.

Surprisingly quickly, she started to return to herself, the fire behind her eyes reigniting and her resolve to be the best of the best fortified. While her days were spent between repairing herself and working harder to find a way to sever her ties with Damaskos, you spent your time earning as much money as you could at the club, and packing your year's worth of life here is Moscow. It was bittersweet, that last week, when your possessions were all in boxes and suitcases, and the apartment you had shared with your friends looked bare.

You decided to spend those last few days with the girls, knowing it would be some time before you could come together again. Adore, Bianca and Vanjie elected to join in the last night, nobody really prepared to part ways. Huddled together on the couch, wine glasses in hands, everyone's cheeks pink and eyes wet from laughter, you found yourself sad.

"I'm going to miss you all," you offered quietly. "You guys are family now."

"Don't start with the boo-hooing just yet, bitch, we're still here ain't we?" Vanjie declared, sloppily pointing her glass in your direction. She was slumped into Brooke's side, the pair of them well and truly official by now.

Adore looked thoughtful. "Where do you guys think you'd be right now if you hadn't gone on this exchange?"

Bianca, usually not one for the sentimental, seemed softened. Whether by the alcohol, or the impending knowledge that she'd be away from her love for only God knew how long, she kissed the side of her head. "I'd still be a miserable, single bitch sewing halloween costumes for brats out of my lounge room. Now? I have way more I could have dreamed of." Glowing with pride, Adore leaned up to kiss her, chaste but sincere.

After the fashion show, Bianca had been picked up by a representative of a theatre company back in New Orleans. Unbeknownst to any of the students, all of the final shows - from music to fashion to dance - had a large attendance of talent scouts. After seeing her work, many people had jumped for the chance to work with Bianca, and she decided to work for an opera-specific company. She'd be earning far more money, and seemed determined to use it to get to Adore as much as possible.

Brooke smiled softly. "I never would have found my love for dance again." She seemed sure on this. And the look she gave you made you realise that finding Katya had a hand in it.

"I don't know where I'd be," Vanessa muttered. "But I'm happy to be here, with you whores, living my best damn life."

With that, the room erupted in cheers, everyone knowing the friendships and relationships within this room, they were real and they would last. Looking at the beaming, bright faces of your friends, you realised that maybe home was less about where you were, but rather who you were with. You were thousands of miles away from what you considered to be home, but in this moment, with these people, you had never felt more at home in your life.

Except, perhaps, for one exception.

The next day, everyone flew off in their own direction, returning to their corners of the world. You, however, were with Katya, who had absolutely insisted on using her private plane to bring you back to the states.

"This is too much." She waved your comment aside, igniting a cigarette, the flame reflecting in the dark sunglasses she wore. The white tarmac was throwing harsh light back up into your face, and you were squinting to see her. "Katya, I saved for a ticket home, this is ridiculous."

"Now you can spend the money on something nice!" she grinned, snapping her fingers to a young man in a fluoro vest, ordering him to be careful with the bags. "I really do not understand how you did not expect this."

Rolling your eyes, you frowned. "This is why I have been working my ass off at your club this last month. I could have been partying with my friends or something." chuckling to herself, she reached out one hand to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout.

"You are cute when you are mad." Your brows met. "Yes, just like that." You couldn't help it, cracking a smile. "Now, go on. We have a long flight ahead of us and I am already tired. I need another cigarette and air conditioning."

"Air con? Katya, it's dead winter in Moscow." Gesturing broadly to her heavy leather trench coat, she made it clear her garment was making her warmer than she was comfortable with. A smirk formed at the corner of your mouth. "If it's so hot, take it off."

"It is part of my outfit, дорогая, I cannot simply take it off."

"Not even..." you murmered, stepping closer with a cheeky smile, "for me?"

She paused briefly, the burning ash falling off the end of her cigarette. You didn't need to see her eyes to know she'd gone to some far away fantasy. She couldn't risk reaching out to grab at you, or to kiss you, and you knew it. You had come to learn that tempting her when she had to be all business meant she was much more enthusiastic behind closed doors.

"You... Are not very nice."

You mock pouted, widening your eyes. "I thought I was very nice?"

"No, it is not nice, not in this circumstance."

"You're cute when you're mad," you toyed, catching the clench of her jaw.

Offering what you weren't sure was either a half-laugh or a huff of annoyance, she nodded her head sharply to the plane. "Get up those stairs. We have a long flight ahead of us and you are holding us up." 

Chuckling triumphantly, you made your way up the metal stairs, sure to sway your hips just a little extra as she climbed up behind you. You were suddenly very excited to return to the states.