Chapter Text
“There are two kinds of secrets: Those that hide deceit and crooked ways, and those that hide buried treasure and amazing surprises.” –Eric Ludy, When Dreams Come True
Gleb was about to reach a breaking point.
“What am I going to do, Bartok?” he asked.
His pet bat stretched from where he was hanging over the kitchen counter, blinking beady black eyes as though considering the question.
“Do I even tell her?” Gleb sighed. “I can’t.”
Bartok squeaked loudly.
“I can’t just say it,” Gleb responded. “She’s only here because of you.”
It was now nearly two months to the day Anya caught Gleb with Bartok. Nearly two months to the day she insisted on daily visits to see the little critter Gleb had found half-frozen on the streets of Leningrad one winter day and was trying to nurse back to health. Nearly two months to the day he had, seeing the bond between Bartok and Anya, foolishly suggested that she might as well stay with him since she was helping him take care of the bat anyway.
The last one had been the subject of much talk. Gleb was aware he had already been caught letting Anya into his flat – that much the secretaries had made clear when he overheard their gossip about the deputy commissioner taking a lover from the streets. Their disdain and dismissiveness of Anya as a street sweeper rankled with him, and he had to bite his tongue often to keep from retorting. But Anya had latched onto the idea and pointed out to him that it was the perfect cover for what they were doing.
“All they can do is talk,” she’d said. “Bartok can’t hear them anyway. And he needs me.”
So Gleb let it happen, let the rumors simmer and intensify. He hadn’t accounted for just how much they would worm into his heart.
He’d always liked Anya, from the moment he met her – this beautiful, hardworking girl who could be a “maybe” in his future. But having her so close by in his house every day had made things progressively worse – with each routine they developed together, with each purposefully exaggerated show of affection they made to feed the gossip when they caught sight of one of Gleb’s subordinates prowling about, with each conversation that went beyond bat care and into each other’s lives - two survivors trying to survive in the new world in their own ways.
Being part of this strange family with her, pretending she was his in their little game… He didn’t know when it had begun, but it had stopped being a lie. He wanted – needed – it to be real.
Gleb shook his head, trying to clear it. “I don’t have to ruin this. We’re doing fine, aren’t we?” he implored. Bartok turned his head one way, then another.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Gleb grumbled. “I’m trying not to be stupid, Bartok. If she finds out and she leaves, you’re not going to have a mama anymore.”
Bartok buried his face in his wing, squirming, and Gleb ran a calming hand along the bat’s white fur.
“See, even you can’t imagine that.”
Bartok glared at him from under his wing, as though exasperated.
“What? You’re not helping.” Gleb protested.
Bartok squeaked as he smacked a wing into his little pink face.
“You tell her then if it’s that easy,” Gleb groused.
“Tell who what?” Anya mumbled sleepily from behind him, and he jumped as Bartok chirped happily.
She reached around Gleb for a glass and filled it with water. As she drank, she blinked at him.
“Nothing,” he answered quickly, and felt a wing hit him in the back of the head.
Anya raised her eyebrows and looked to Bartok. “I don’t think he’s telling the truth, is he, little guy?”
Bartok cocked his head to one side.
“I thought so.” Her tone grew serious as she put her glass down and bit her lip. Gleb stiffened, sensing that she was about to say something he wouldn’t want to hear.
There was a heavy pause as she took a deep breath and her expression went from sleepy to smooth and blank. “Gleb, I know it’s me.”
He spluttered, but she continued on as though she hadn’t noticed. “I know it hasn’t been easy having me here. When you adopted Bartok, I know you didn’t expect me to be a part of this too.”
She sounded stiff and detached, as though she was reading a prepared speech, and she was looking everywhere but at him as she spoke. “This…arrangement, I know we agreed that it was convenient for Bartok. But maybe we shouldn’t keep it up anymore.”
Gleb felt his heart sink like a stone, and he looked down at the floor. A small part of him was dimly relieved he didn’t listen to the bat and say anything first. That would have been worse.
“It’s not convenient for…us.” Anya’s voice cracked slightly. “I’m not very good at pretending.”
His head snapped up at the same time his heart jumped into his throat. The cool mask she had been wearing was gone, replaced with frustration, and her face was reddening rapidly. She was fidgeting with the dressing gown he’d gotten her after she moved in and muttering something under her breath that sounded vaguely like, “curse you, Bartok.”
He couldn’t assume she meant what he hoped she meant, but there was only one way to find out. She was leaving either way…he had nothing left to lose.
He took a step towards her and, taking care to be slow enough to give her time to react, slipped a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. Her eyes, such an interesting blue, widened, and her breath hitched.
It was the lightest press of mouth to mouth, like a soft touch. He didn’t linger, pulling back almost immediately as his head swam with the sensation.
Anya stared at him, frozen in place and looking confused. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Bartok had gone still and was watching her intently.
“I’m not good at pretending either,” Gleb confessed.
She released a shaky breath. “Good. Because I don’t want to. Anymore.”
“Neither do I.” He could feel his ears burning as he straightened up.
“What happens now?” she asked hesitantly, face pink as she clutched the dressing gown tighter around her.
“You could marry me,” he blurted out.
Anya blinked at him. “What?”
As his statement sank in, Gleb wished he could bludgeon himself with some heavy object.
“I shouldn’t have said that – please forget I said that,” he babbled, desperately begging his brain to start working again. “I don’t know why I said that – that was stupid –”
Bartok looked from one of his parents to the other, his naturally grumpy face seeming even surlier now.
“Bartok, be patient. It’s strange when it’s real,” Anya finally said, looking embarrassed, while Gleb continued to wish the ceiling would collapse on him.
She moved just a little closer to him, and Gleb felt blood rush to his head again. “Do you honestly want me to forget what you said?” she asked sweetly.
“I – what?” His ability to form words seemed to have gone on leave with his common sense.
The flush on her cheeks deepened. “Because I could…agree to that.”
“You could?” he responded dumbly as a roaring started in his ears.
“I could.” She was barely suppressing a grin now, her eyes sparkling. “I mean, I expected better of a marriage proposal, but –”
He didn’t let her finish the sentence, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her again, more firmly and insistently this time. Her hand settled on the back of his neck, and he felt her smile.
Words were overrated anyway.
There was a loud squeak, and they both turned to see Bartok swaying in excitement on his perch, ears perked up.
Gleb’s lips twitched as he tried to fight back a burst of laughter welling up inside him. “We’re not doing this in front of you,” he said smugly.
With a rustle, Bartok opened his wings and soared off his perch. Gleb felt a wing clip the top of his head, and Anya started laughing as Gleb glowered in Bartok’s general direction.
As Gleb squinted to see where his pet had flown off to, he felt slim fingers run along his jawline, turning his face back. He was met with soft lips against the corner of his mouth, and all thoughts of the bat flew from his mind.
If Bartok came back at any point, neither of them had a clue.