Sleep Tight, Everybody.

Fargo Season 5

I haven't kept up with the series as a whole, but I saw Mary McDonnell's season and a few at the beginning. Really enjoyed it all.

But boy howdy, I keep picturing her as Lorraine Lyon and she would have killed it.

No disrespect to JJL. I just would have found Mary's a tough ass bitch more enjoyable to watch.

Reminds me of New Girl's Jessica Day in the episode "Table 34", after she has kissed Nick:

"He just, like, grabbed me and he took me. He was a man and I was a woman, and it was firm but tender. Yea, I saw through space and time for a minute, but that's not the point."

I'd include other words like: devour, release, and vibrant desire in there somewhere, though.

I would like you to kiss me.

For All Mankind | 4x07 - Crossing the Line

Wrenn Schmidt as Margo Madison Ania Bukstein as Tatyana Volkova

Can you tell me that you could pass up on this gorgeous man reclined on a sofa? Pshaw!

As @historysquib calls them, a Palate Cleanser fic:

Margo entered her office and shut the door softly behind her. Turning, she slumped against the door briefly and released a sigh. It had been the most tiresome of evenings. Three hours building support for a new proposal by the recently defected Sergei had been needlessly tedious. Margo was well practiced at moving political levers, but new Russian defectors had a break-in period for trust building in the wider political sphere that could not be abridged.

She turned to her drinks cabinet and turned on the lamp above it. She considered how many fingers of brandy that loss of time was worth, before finally settling on a light pour–any more would turn her out like a light as tired as she was. Margo pondered what she would ideally need to relax: a stiff drink or… Her thoughts trailed away and found their home on her sofa.

On her sofa Sergei reclined with a hand thrown back behind his head. The other hand was draped across his chest and trapped a creased report that threatened to slide to the floor. His relaxed countenance flooded her heart with warmth as she crossed the room towards him. She flicked on the lamp at the side table behind his head and observed his slumber. He looked markedly improved from his Lefortovo stay. His hair had grown back in, disheveled from his repose on what she knew wasn’t the most comfortable of couches. He seemed to be managing his traumatic stint in jail by leaving his frail self behind with wild hair, wilder beard and a filling out of his frame. It was an improvement of his physical health and image that she made no secret of liking.

Taking a seat near him on the coffee table, she set aside her brandy and removed the report from his grasp. Briefly scanning the report, she replaced it with her hand, she called to him softly, “Sergei.”

Sergei mumbled some indiscernible Russian in response and shifted slightly. Margo shook his hand lightly and called to him again. He blinked awake and smiled at her.

“Did you need your Soviet expert?” Sergei groggily asked.

Margo leant forward, “Something like that,” she drawled before placing a soft kiss on his smirking lips. Sergei responded slowly, kissing her softly in return. His hand came up to caress her face before sliding into her hair. Margo pressed a light kiss to his lips before she eased back to her seat beside him. She glanced at the time on her wrist and looked at him shrewdly.

“Were you waiting for me or for the resolution on your proposal?”

He grinned at her and levered himself up, leaning towards her to plant a kiss on her cheek before whispering into her ear, “Both, naturally.”

He drifted more kisses down her neck before she halted him, both hands clasping his head and redirecting him up to face her.

“Sergei,” she chided, eyes semi-serious. She was tired and needed to go to bed. The sooner she could maneuver him out of her office the better. She would get no rest otherwise. “I need to go to bed and you need to go home.”

“Ah, but home is where you are, Margo,” he replied quickly. “I cannot sleep without you.” He made to continue his onslaught of her neck, but was forestalled by Margo’s halfhearted evasion.

She snorted and shook her head, “And just now?” She gestured to the sofa.

"A convenient rest of the eyes,” Sergei rejoined. Margo raised her eyebrows. “It may have gotten away from me,” he amended with a shrug. He pursed his lips before smiling that absolutely obnoxious, and in no-way devastating, grin at her.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded in response. “I'm off to bed.” She took off her shoes and bent to retrieve them. Sighing gratefully at their removal.

"Do you need help finding your way there? Perhaps an expert on navigation could help?” Sergei murmured with no small amount of cheek. “Perhaps another Soviet first?”

Sergei stood up and took her shoes in one hand and her hand in the other, pulling her to her feet.

“A Soviet first?” Margo questioned, exasperated.

“Exploring the bedroom of the NASA director, a first for all man-”

Margo interrupted him with a slap to the back of the head.

“Ah, woman!” Sergei cried in mock pain.

Margo walked briskly forward, leaving Sergei behind. She hesitated at the office door while Sergei stood rubbing the back of his head. The smile on his face sent shivers up her spine. She couldn't and wouldn't send him away no matter what she threatened and he knew it.

“Perhaps you are right. A Soviet first,” she said with some emphasis. At that she turned the lock on her office door and briefly stopped at the threshold of her bedroom, “You coming?” She called behind her.

Sergei followed diligently, carrying her shoes.

Good news, he ran away from the KGB, he's fine now

Part 1

beautiful work, op. My favorite Goya. 😍

Greg-ified classic paintings vol. 3:

“Taskmaster Smooching His Assistant”

a soft epilogue requested by villainandhero

“You cannot go back there, Margo.”

Margo shifted on her feet. The life raft she had built to survive eight long years in the Soviet Union was quickly revealing itself to be not quite seaworthy.

Each revelation surged a wave that threatened to overwhelm her raft–the disdain of the people at NASA, the reveal of Irina’s mechanizations throughout both their lives, Sergei’s presence in Houston, and damn him, the care he offered her in his steadfast gaze.

This raft she built of necessity was based only on the work–her love of space and engineering. Now in Houston with Sergei standing in front of her it was laughable to think she could survive based only upon it. But then, back in the Soviet Union, that’s all she had. For eight years she subsisted on dreams of space alone, and finally, things began to change and she got to realize her dream only for it to all crash– Margo began to waver on her feet as she made new calculations about her life.

“Margo,” Sergei exhaled as he started forward, his hands outstretched to grasp her arms and steady her. Disheartened, she let him comfort her. She felt distinct and utterly unsalvageable ruptures form in her raft.

Margo wanted to break eye contact with him, to look anywhere else but she was as starved for him as she was for the rest of it. She tried to steady her breathing and recenter herself to work her newest and thorniest of problems.

She was as yet torn between wanting to cry, puke or laugh at what she had misunderstood yet again. Breaking through her racing thoughts were Sergei’s warm hands rubbing reassuringly on her forearms. She sighed and he released some breath of his own. She nodded and his hands drifted down to hold her hands. His eyes darkened from concern to a deeper longing.

“Please, Margo, come sit with me.” Sergei gestured with a jut of his head toward his car.

She nodded quickly and briefly tightened her own hold on him as he ushered her to the passenger seat. When he shut the car door to round the car and slide into the driver’s seat, Margo let her head drop into her hands.

“What now, Sergei?” Margo asked despondently.

“Now we find our way out,” Sergei responded firmly.

He looked her over closely; observed her gray hair, her wrist bandage, and her firmly buttoned-up presentation. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and never let her go again. God, he had missed her. He had mourned her and now here she was in his car inches away, as beautiful as ever.

Margo released another sigh and straightened, offering an exhausted default,“Sure, let’s work the problem.”

She turned slightly towards him to take a closer look at the man she had desperately tried to save. The last eight years had agreed with him and he looked as handsome as ever. Her scrutiny did not go unnoticed and he smiled warmly at her. Margo extended a hand to brush his cheek and touch his smile.

"I missed that smile,” she whispered as he turned in her grasp and kissed her palm.

Her heart thudded in her chest as he brought her hand down to intertwine with his over the console between them.

“And I missed you. Margo…” Sergei broke off, and what further he wanted to say died in his throat as they simply stared at each other.

Margo broke eye contact and pulled her hands away, trying to reign in her emotions and run-away thoughts. Without her raft, she was in danger of saying and doing things she knew she couldn't afford to embrace.

“I'm here to help capture an asteroid and usher in a new age for life on Earth,” she said with growing determination. “We will succeed. Nothing can jeopardize that.”

Sergei turned in his seat to face her straight on. Nonplussed, he replied, “And when you have achieved this, what do you think will happen then?”

Margo opened her mouth to argue that Irina had promised her the outer solar system–hell, the deeper cosmos–but nothing came out.

“Your usefulness is only ever an illusion, Margo, as brilliant as you are,” Sergei continued more gently. “A trick, and a brutal one.”

Margo closed her eyes, squeezing them shut lest a tear escape. “Take me back to the hotel, please,” she asked softly.

Sergei broached contact once more, reaching forward to caress and gently turn her face to his. Margo relented and opened her eyes to be met with a face full of concern for her.

“We can navigate this, Margo, it will be treacherous but we will find a way. For both of us.” Sergei squeezed her hand before turning on his car.

Soft jazz filled the car as he pulled out of Franks and headed towards her hotel. Sensing how overwhelmed she was, he kept silent as he drove across Houston. It wasn't to be a long trip, so he took her hand with his and held it until he parked a discrete distance away from her hotel.

Silence returned to the car when he shut it off. The air was heavy, like the rains were shortly returning. A handy cover for her to sneak into the hotel, but a heavier portent for the future.

Margo couldn't as yet see any way forward other than work the asteroid. Her track record on manoeuvring escapes was dreadful and left only wreckage behind.

“I will be here for you, Margo, and I have a plan to get us out,” Sergei began, interrupting her thoughts.

Margo cut him off with a sharp look and a quick exhale.

“Thank you, Sergei, for… coming to see me. It is good to see you,” the words painfully exited her chest, “we can work together on the asteroid; I know I will need your help, but…” Margo wasn't quite sure how to tell him that there was no possible future for them, that his optimism and hope were a brutal illusion of their own.

Sergei interrupted her ramble and cradled her head with both hands. Pulling her gently towards him, he rested his head against hers. “You appeared. Out of nowhere. A dream so impossible. Let me-let us-dream the impossible. My grief for you left me with an empty heart, and yet it disappears with the reality of you. I am no longer numb or in wonder at my desolation. I have outlasted the storm and so have you.”

Margo exhaled slowly and closed the last distance between them. Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him softly. Breaking the kiss she rested her head gently against his.

“They called me Margaret Reynolds,” she whispered with a strained mirth.

“Sergei Bezuko,” he whispered back encouragingly.

At that shared absurdity the car was briefly filled with giggles. Sobriety returned along with the rain as it splattered the car. They both moved to embrace the other tightly.

“We can do both, Margo,” Sergei tried to reassure her.

“We will talk more about that,” Margo said, forestalling further talk of the future beyond the asteroid capture, “But, I need to get back. I'll message you through Aleida.”

Margo loosened her hold on Sergei, and he resisted the end of their embrace only briefly. He held her hands as he gazed at her, trying to memorize her in this moment.

“I will be here for you,” he said and pressed a kiss to her hands.

Margo nodded and with one last squeeze of his hands, she opened her car door and disappeared into the rain.

--

Notes! Mwhaha. I just want them to touch more. 😉 Also, I bastardized Pushkin there at the end there.

I do believe he's lost.

reblog if Bill Adama doesn’t know where Earth is 🍷