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It's Isak's fingers in his hair that wake him, probably.
“Baby,” Isak sing-songs, so softly it makes Even want to smile a little, in a dark, still-tired recess of his mind. He doesn't actually smile, he's still too tired for his muscles to move that much, still clawing his way out of Morpheus' grip, but he wants to. He tries to remember that when Isak doesn't stop.
“Wake up, baby,” Isak says, his fingers running gentle lines over Even's scalp. In a few moments the tenderness will make Even's heart swell, but right now he's too tired, really didn't want to wake up yet.
They have rules for this sort of thing. There are only two reasons to wake each other before eight in the morning, and Even can feel in the way sleep sticks to his thoughts like cobwebs that it's definitely earlier than eight. And since Isak's whispering sweet things and running gentle fingers through Even's hair, it's not an emergency. So –
“There better be a damn romantic reason for this,” Even groans and blinks tired eyes open. The fact that Isak has to leave for school doesn't count as a romantic reason anymore. They both like sleep too much to insist on goodbye kisses.
Mercifully, Isak has only turned on the small lamp over by their table, so the room isn't too bright.
Even tries to pull the duvet up over his head, hunching his shoulders, but Isak laughs quietly and pries it from his fingers.
“Very romantic,” he insists. “I promise you'll be swooning.”
“I swoon when you sneeze, that's no achievement,” Even grumbles, cheeks twitching with a smile when it makes Isak snort a slightly louder laugh.
“Proper swooning,” Isak says and leans down to dust soft kisses over Even's cheek. Even gives in a little and lets his shoulder fall back down to give Isak more room to sweeten him with kisses. He's not so out of it that he'd deny himself Isak's kisses. He still grumbles a bit more for effect.
“Remember when we were watching The Third Man?” Isak asks.
Even doesn't really, not beyond the fact that they had watched it, and both enjoyed it.
“Not even you can make me swoon for murder,” Even feels the need to point out, and finally rolls onto his back.
He's not going to fall back asleep. Isak has thoroughly ruined that. But Isak also smiles that gentle smile at him that Even always finds himself reciprocating without any kind of conscious decision, and brushes their noses together a bit.
“And remember how we didn't go to Marrakesh in the summer after all?” Isak adds.
Because it was trickier than they thought to find a time all five of them were free, and because they weren't sure Marrakesh of all places was the best holiday destination for them after all, and because they suddenly thought they should maybe be a little bit responsible about the money Isak's pappa had gifted him for his birthday.
It's dreadful, really. Having to pay bills for a few months has dampened both of their senses for adventure.
In the end, September had dawned and they hadn't gone and treated themselves to more chairs instead so they could actually have one or two people over without having to resort to sitting on the bed.
Isak looks at him like he expects him to draw any kind of meaningful conclusion from their failed summer holiday and a murder mystery from the 1940s. Even doesn't.
“We're going to Vienna,” Isak says. “Happy Birthday, baby.”
“My birthday was Monday,” Even says incongruously.
Isak hums his agreement and sits up.
“But I thought you'd disapprove of me missing an entire week of school. So, a weekend trip it is,” he says
“You have class today too,” Even points out, and then remembers something else. “I have work tomorrow.”
Isak only smiles.
“I'm skipping; I'm nowhere near my 10%. And you did Mari's shift on Wednesday, remember?”
Even blinks at him, taking the information in, and then feels his eyes widen in realisation.
“Did you ask Mari to ask me to switch shifts so I wouldn't have to work tomorrow?”
Isak grins, clearly proud of himself.
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says.
Even huffs an amused breath.
“I'm surprised.”
“Good. Now, get up. We have a flight to catch.”
Plane. Vienna. Okay, Even can do this.
He stumbles out of bed and lets Isak hand him a pair of comfy jeans and a hoodie, grabs underwear and a long-sleeved t-shirt from their wardrobe.
“Wait, how cold is it there right now?” Even asks. “What do I need to pack?”
“I packed for you, baby, you just need to get dressed,” Isak says. “And that'll be fine, the weather’s mostly the same as here.”
“That's disappointing,” Even mumbles, but pulls on his socks and the hoodie. “Breakfast?”
“Packed it,” Isak says. “We'll have it on the train.”
Even grins and leans over to give Isak a kiss, belly starting to tingle with butterflies now that he's a little more awake.
“You've thought of everything.”
“It wouldn't be a good birthday surprise otherwise, would it,” Isak says with a satisfied grin.
Isak really has thought of everything. They have plenty time to reach their train, and they have plenty more so they don't have to rush across the airport either. Isak somehow managed to pack everything they need into one trolley suitcase, so they can bring that and a backpack as carry-on luggage. He's checked them in online, so there's no queuing, and by the time they're sat at the gate, waiting to board, Even is both a lot more awake and a lot more excited.
“Do you have plans for us there too?” Even asks, pulling one if Isak's hands over into his lap and playing with his fingers.
Isak hums a confirmation.
“Let me guess, more surprises?” Even asks, smiling over at him.
“Yep,” Isak says. “Unless that stresses you out?”
“No, it's fine,” Even says and leans in to nuzzle Isak’s face with a smile. “I'm flexible.”
“Yeah, I know,” Isak says, voice low and intimate, and tilts his head a little to capture Even's lips in a kiss.
“Wow, is it that kind of holiday?” Even says quietly when he pulls back again, earning himself a laugh and a gentle shove.
“No. We're staying at an air bnb flat,” he says.
“So does that mean you're against sex this weekend completely?”
Isak's cheeks go a little red and he rolls his eyes.
“Not completely. Just. No marathons in someone else's bed.”
Even laughs a little and presses another kiss to Isak’s mouth.
“Okay, no marathons in the bed.”
“Oh my god, Even, you know what I meant!” Isak complains, and Even can’t help how that makes him laugh more.
The flight, thankfully, goes smoothly, and though neither of them are afraid of flying, Even's glad to get his feet back on the ground when they touch down. Flying may not scare him, but he finds it exhausting, being crammed into a metal tube with a hundred other people, the recycled air, the constant hum of the engine in the background. Isak, unsurprisingly, finds it fascinating; the engineering, the ingenuity, the mental toll flying must take on a pilot.
It's one of those things that Even technically knows about Isak, but also finds himself surprised by again and again. Everything fascinates Isak. His curiosity doesn't seem to know any bounds, and though it's most often focussed on science, that doesn't mean it ends there. Isak actually knows a fair few things about art, and when Even goes on a tangent about colour theory and framing while trying to explain why he loves a particular movie so much, Isak listens attentively. Not just in the moment, but he remembers it too, brings it up the next time Even says something about it.
His boy is always, constantly learning, and Even doesn't know how to properly express how very deeply that impresses him. How much watching Isak interact with the world with eyes wide open, always prepared to wonder, inspires him to do the same. To not forget that there isn't only one set path in life, that the world is changing all the time and that Even can change with it.
Isak takes a deep breath and stretches his arms behind his back, rolling his head from one shoulder to the other to stretch out any kinks.
“We're too tall,” he says.
Even laughs and rubs at where his thigh's twinging a bit.
“Planes are too small,” he counters.
“Yes, true,” Isak says. “Very inconsiderate to build planes only for short people.”
“We should found our own plane building company. Planes specifically designed for tall people. Aren't people getting taller? Like, globally? There has to be a market for that.”
“I have no idea, but we'll look into it,” Isak says and then shoulders the backpack. He reaches for the handle of their trolley suitcase too, but Even grabs it and levels him with a look when he tries to argue.
“Alright, fine,” Isak says, and takes off, walking over to the shuttle bus.
“Thank you,” Even says primly, and tangles his free hand with Isak's.
“We'll have to do market research anyway,” Isak says.
“Hm?”
“For the planes. So we'll find out if humanity's getting taller, on average,” Isak explains.
Even laughs and lifts the trolley suitcase in, finding a space by a wall to lean against, Isak coming to stand opposite him, reaching up for one of the rails the handles are attached to.
“It's like so long as it's some sort of research, you're happy,” Even teases.
Isak laughs and shakes their joined hands in admonishment.
“Maybe,” he concedes, and lets Even pull him a little closer so he can kiss him.
The transfer to the airport building doesn't take long, and they spend it in mutual silence interspersed with small kisses, which is one of Even's favourite ways of spending time with Isak.
“So how do we get into the city?” Even asks, glad they've only got their carry-on luggage when they can just stroll past the large conveyor belts with people waiting for their suitcases.
“By train,” Isak says. “There's a shuttle train, but the national railway service has one too and it's a lot cheaper and only takes, like, five minutes longer.”
“Easy choice then,” Even agrees.
“Yeah, it'll take us right into the city centre too, so we can just switch to the subway then,” Isak says.
“I'm honestly really impressed with your level of planning,” Even says.
Isak laughs a little.
“I just wanted to be prepared,” he says. “I promise there's no strict itinerary we have to stick to. Except this one thing tomorrow, because I really want to do it.”
“I hope you realise how curious that's making me.”
“I do. I'm not sorry,” Isak says with a grin.
Even laughs a little and swings their locked hands between them, letting Isak take care of finding his way through the airport.
He's not quite as sappy about airport arrival spaces as Love Actually made him think he would be, but he does like them. He likes all places where lots of people from all sorts of backgrounds come together and don't really pay each other any mind. There's so much to see at an airport; it's like a microcosm of humanity. Well, the affluent part of humanity at least.
There are business people coming for visits or coming home, tourists who visit and those who just got back from their holidays, student groups. Young people, old people. People with their families or without. And everyone's sort of in their own little world. They all know they're not the only ones here, but safe for a few public decency concerns, everyone is mostly busy with themselves. Waiting for their luggage or their plane or their pick-up. Thinking about what to eat and when. Listening to music or reading or working or playing.
It's fun. Even likes people-watching.
And doing it in places that he's new to as well, it's always fun how you can spot the locals immediately. Sure, he can do that in Oslo too, recognises immediately who can read the signs and who can't, but when you're forced to go a little slower because you have to look for the English signs, then you have more time to look at everyone else too.
Isak leads them to the train with the kind of security of someone who's used to finding their own way. It's another one of those curious things about Isak – he hardly ever gets lost. His sense of direction is pretty amazing. Even when they go somewhere Even knows Isak has never been before, he knows where to look, he remembers what ways signs point, and he hardly ever gets confused.
The train they board is nice – modern, with good heating and seats that aren't worn through yet. Even supposes you wouldn't want a tourist's first impression of your country to be how old the trains are, though. The monitors that show the destination and estimated time of arrival switch between German and English, which is useful. Even hasn't considered that neither of them speak German until they touched down. Not really.
They make their way through the carriages until they find a two-seater to share, and Isak puts their trolley suitcase on the little suitcase shelf a few rows further down before he comes back and falls into the seat next to Even. They both peal off their outermost layers, and then settle fully.
“What do you want to do once we've gotten to the flat?” he asks.
“Just go out?” Even suggests. “If you don't have any plans for us today?”
“No, it really is just this one thing tomorrow. And I know for a fact you're going to want to do it,” Isak says.
“Oh, do you?” Even teases. “Hm… is it a dancing lesson?”
“Yes,” Isak deadpans. “That's exactly it. I took you all the way to Vienna for a dancing lesson.”
“It's not called the Viennese Waltz for nothing, Isak,” Even insists.
Isak snorts a laugh and leans his head back against the back rest, turning it to the side so he can smile over at Even fondly.
“Hello,” he says.
Even leans back and copies him, looks over with a smile and links their hands between them again.
“Hello,” he says too.
“I love you, you know that?” Isak says.
“Yeah, I do know that,” Even grins, and brings Isak's hand up to press a kiss to their interlocked fingers. “I love you too.”
Isak smiles and pulls on their hands so he can kiss them too.
“That's good,” he says. “It'd be really awkward otherwise that we're going on this semi-romantic weekend trip.”
“Semi-romantic?” Even asks, putting on a fake pout. “Are you holding out on me?”
“Yeah, I gotta save some romance for my other boyfriend, he'll get mad at me otherwise.”
“Your other boyfriend?!” Even asks with a gasp, pulling his hand away from Isak's to lay it on his heart instead. “I can't believe you'd do that to me.”
“Sorry,” Isak says with a shrug. “His mum just pays me better. I got used to this lifestyle, you know? And now I can't quit.”
Even ducks his head to laugh into Isak's shoulder and gives him a kiss when he comes back up. Isak's beaming at him, mischief dancing brightly in his eyes.
“You're very funny,” Even says.
“Yeah, that's what he likes about me too.”
“I bet he's not as tall as me.”
“No, he isn't,” Isak confirms.
“And I bet he's not as smooth as me.”
Isak snorts a laugh and then puts on a very serious expression indeed.
“No, of course not. No one's as smooth as you, Even.”
“And I bet he doesn't kiss you as well as I do.”
Isak pulls a face and makes a doubtful humming noise.
“Well,” he says. “You've been slacking today, I have to say.”
Even raises an eyebrow and puts his hand on Isak's knee, sliding it up- and inwards slowly. Isak swallows heavily, but doesn't stop him, staring him down.
“We're in public, baby,” Even says. “I'm going to kiss you like you deserve once we close the door behind us, alright?”
Isak licks his lips, eyes dropping down to Even's mouth briefly.
“Alright. I'll reserve judgement on that until then.”
“Very gracious,” Even says and leans in for another kiss. Still chaste, because they are in public, but he makes it slow. Makes sure his lips stick to Isak's and that he moves back only the smallest bit, lets Isak feel him breathe against him for a moment.
Isak sighs, just softly, and Even squeezes at his leg and then pulls back. For a moment, Even just looks at him, and Isak looks at him back, dopey smiles on their faces.
“Hey, have I said thank you, yet?” Even says.
Isak only smiles at him.
“You don't have to thank me.”
“I want to,” Even says and leans in for another quick peck.
Isak hums pleasantly and kisses him back, adds another quick two kisses before he lets Even get away again.
“We should do this more often,” he says.
“Go to Vienna?”
“Just go somewhere. Just for a weekend. Like, when we can afford it.”
“We haven't even been here for an hour,” Even points out. “You might hate it.”
Isak smiles again.
“No,” he says confidently. “I'm sure I won't.”
Even pats him on the leg affectionately and then leans away again to turn and look out the window.
It's truthfully not much to see, just the usual bit of suburbia, but the train ride is thankfully short, and the main station, when they get out, is massive. It looks big when they step out of the train, all the platforms lined up next to one another, but it's when they walk inside that Even finds himself looking around. Oslo's main station is nothing to frown upon, but here it feels like the escalators just won't stop until they've finally reached the right level for their subway train.
“Are you sure you know where we're going?” Even asks, just once.
Isak gives him a faux-offended look.
“I know exactly where we're going,” he says. “And if I don't, that's what Apple maps is for.”
Even wouldn't mind getting lost, he thinks. He's still feeling energised, not too exhausted yet. It could be fun, trying to find out where they are, wandering the streets a bit. But then he guesses they have enough time to do that once they've found their flat.
The stop they get off at is a busy one, and it spits them out into a wide street, both sides of it lined with storefronts.
“Convenient,” Even says.
“Hm, yeah,” Isak agrees, looking down at his phone. He's got Apple maps open already, turning it to figure out which way they have to go before he looks up and squints at their surroundings.
“Over there,” Isak says, and nods at a street that leads them a little ways away from this main street.
Even grabs the suitcase again, and off they go. It's a little windy, but not too cold yet, so Even only reaches back to flip the hood up over his head. Cold enough to make him think he's glad they don't seem to be lost after all though.
The walk from the subway stop to until Isak announces they're there is short, no longer than ten minutes. Less, probably, when they go back and already know where to go.
Isak rings a doorbell and announces them to a guy in English, who tells them to take the back staircase and then the left corridor on the third floor. It's an older building, the floors and steps worn from use, little groves in the edges of the stairs, everything polished smooth from years of being trod on.
The guy comes to meet them at the top of the staircase, leads them down the left corridor while he explains that these old Viennese houses can get a bit confusing. There are tiny bathrooms on the corridor.
“You do not need to worry though,” the guy jokes. “We have them in the appartments now too.”
Isak grins at him politely.
“So how long are you staying?” the guy asks. “Maria said it was only for the weekend? Oh, I'm David, by the way.”
“Isak,” Isak says, and shakes the guys hand.
“Even,” Even supplies, and takes his hand too. “And, yes, only for the weekend. School and work on Monday, sadly.”
“School? You are still in school? But your parents let you travel alone?” David asks, fitting the key into the keyhole and smiling back at them over the shoulder. “Here we are.”
“Yes,” Isak says. “It's not a problem.”
“You are from Norway? It is common there?” David asks curiously, and then steps aside to let them in.
Isak shrugs a little.
“Yes,” he says, probably because he's in no mood to figure out how to say “I have no idea how the Austrian school system works in comparison to the Norwegian one, or why it would be strange for an eighteen-year-old to travel with his twenty-one year old boyfriend”. Maybe kids in Austria aren't usually in school anymore once they're eighteen? That seems a bit early to Even, but what does he know.
“So, here is the toilet,” David says, moving through the flat ahead of them once they've all taken off their shoes. Even leaves the suitcase by the door for now and just follows behind quietly.
“And over there is the bathroom. This is just a storage room, so it has the toilet paper and other cleaning stuffs if you need them,” he goes on. “Then we have the living room. It has a small balcony that goes to the backyard, but it's a bit cold now maybe. And then the kitchen is here next to it, but it is really small, but I think you know that?”
Isak makes an affirmative noise, so apparently he did know that. “Really small” almost seems like it doesn't fully convey just how small the kitchen is. Even genuinely doubts that they would both fit, if one of them were also cooking at the same time. Wow.
“And the bedroom is here,” David finishes his tour. “There is only one bed, but you don't mind?”
Even blinks at him and tries not to burst into a laugh.
“No,” Isak says. “We don't mind.”
The whole flat is kept in white and black, the occasional chrome leg of a chair. It's very stylish, even though Even doesn't think he could live that way. It's a bit too much like something out of a catalogue for his own tastes. Even the duvet and pillow covers are kept in black and white, a very clear linear design patterned onto the pillows and the foot end of the duvet cover.
“So the bed things and the towels you can use, they are clean and everything,” David says. “So please when you leave, just take them off the bed and put them there, then I will come and I can wash them for the next people, okay?”
Isak nods.
“I need to leave to meet a friend on Sunday in the morning, but it's no problem to just put the key in the post box downstairs for my flat. Then I can pick it up in the evening.”
“Okay, we'll do that,” Even says, and reaches out to take the key from him. “Is there something else we need to know?”
“The stove is with gas, you know how to use it?” David asks.
Isak shakes his head, so David nods and waves for them to follow him into the kitchen.
“You have to press and then turn and when you hear this clicking noise, you have to hold it there until the flame comes,” David says. “The heating I have turned up this morning, but you can adjust.”
“Thank you,” Even says.
“If something isn't working, then I am next door in number 25, so you can knock,” David says with a smile and then shakes both their hands again. “Have a good time in Vienna!”
“Thanks, yeah,” Even says. “We will.”
He walks David to the door because that seems polite, and then locks the door behind him, hoping that doesn't seem incredibly impolite.
Then he grabs the suitcase and carries it to the bedroom, only to find Isak laid out on his back on the bed. His jacket's slung over the back of a chair in the corner, scarf and beanie hat flung on top.
“Testing the mattress?” Even asks and grins down at him.
Isak bounces on it twice and grins back.
“Hope you don't mind sharing.”
This time, Even laughs and takes off his jacket before crawling on next to Isak.
“I only mind sharing you.”
“With the bed?” Isak asks, all faux-confusion and a smile he's trying to hide. “That doesn't even make sense.”
Even groans and puts his face in Isak's neck, kisses him there and then lifts up to kiss him on the lips.
“With anyone,” he says.
Isak hums and lifts his arms to lay them around Even's neck.
“Me too,” he says, and then tilts his head into the next kiss Even presses to his mouth, opening his lips under Even's and burying his cold fingers in Even's hair, fingertips smoothing over his scalp.
Even shifts a little so he can get a better angle, slips an arm under Isak's neck to make him tilt his head back and push in deeper, press him down onto the bed with his chest on top of Isak's until Isak hums a low, pleased noise.
“Okay, you're a better kisser than him,” Isak says when Even pulls back. “If you talk your mum into a raise I'll dump him.”
Even snorts a laugh and puts his forehead down against Isak's chest, shaking with laughter for a moment.
“Okay,” he says then. “I'll do that.”
“Okay,” Isak agrees.
By the time hunger drives them back out into the street the light has gotten a lot dustier. It's still early afternoon, so the sun hasn't fully gone down yet, but it's sinking behind the higher buildings and without the sunshine the wind feels a little chillier than before. It's just that instead of that Oslo harbour smell it brings roasted chestnuts and candied almonds and every other step the grilling scent of a kebab.
Isak makes them stop at the first bank they walk past to withdraw some cash, stuffing it in his wallet with a shrug.
“I looked it up,” he says. “You need cash in Austria.”
Even lifts his hands in a show of surrender and laughs a little.
“I didn't even say anything!”
“You had a look,” Isak insists.
“Sure,” Even says with a grin and then falls into step beside Isak again.
The trees lining the street are bare now, but Even supposes it must be quite nice in the summer, to walk in the shade underneath them, shielded from the sun. The shop fronts are all quite familiar, but there's always something curious about seeing something you're used to in a new context. Did he not see this jacket at H&M because they don't carry it in Norway or because it just hasn't been in the window?
“Honestly, I don't want to be boring, but the fact that we've walked bast three kebab places really makes me want one,” Isak says into the blue when they walk past yet another kebab shop.
Even laughs and nudges their shoulders together.
“I was actually just thinking the same thing.”
It really doesn't take them long to find another one, and there aren't too many people inside either, so they're back outside with their kebabs in hand no ten minutes later. Isak looks down at his, wrapped in paper and then tin foil, and tilts his head, a smile spreading over his face.
“Is it odd that it didn't occur to me that the kebab might be different?” he asks.
Even looks at his own, the round sandwich more reminiscent of a burger than what he's used to calling a kebab and shrugs.
“I'm equally surprised, if it helps,” he says.
Isak looks up to share a grin, and then shrugs and takes a bite.
“Good?” Even asks.
Isak chews slowly and then nods.
“Good, yeah. Not quite the same, but good.”
Even turns to his own and after a few bites each they decide to take off down the street again, the warmth of the kebabs very slowly seeping through their mittens. Their kebabs are done before they reach the end of the street, a large crossroads with another equally large street and large buildings popping up suddenly.
“So, where are we?” Even asks.
“That was Mariahilfer street, and all of those are museums,” he says, pointing at the orange-peach building to their left that seems to stretch the length of the entire block, and the two identical white buildings facing each other opposite that.
“Seriously?” Even asks.
“Yeah,” Isak says with a grin. “That one right here has several smaller museums inside, and those two are the art history museum and the natural sciences museum. And then right behind those is the Imperial Palace with the National Library and a bunch of other stuff and behind that is the butterfly and palm house? And then Albertina museum which has, like, impressionist art and such, I think? And the film museum.”
“Did they just put all their museums in the same place?” Even asks, trying to wrap his head around the information. There's definitely too much to do in just two days.
“I think they just had a lot of imperial buildings left over post empire and everything,” Isak says drily.
Even slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in.
“You're always so smart,” he teases.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Shall we just go see what's on and then decide?” Even suggests.
Isak shrugs.
“Yeah, that's fine.”
Isak slips his hand into Even's and smiles up at him like he's expecting Even to make a decision where to start, so Even decides to make the easiest choice and start with the one closest.
“Museumsquarter,” he says. “If all German is that easy, I took the wrong language.”
“You missed an 'i',” Isak points out.
“Probably the same word though, right?” Even says. “Quartier, quarter. They have to mean the same thing.”
“Probably,” Isak says with a shrug.
“Vienna at 1900,” Even reads off a poster, looking at the Klimt painting behind it, tilting his head. “Do you want to see that?”
Isak shrugs again, which isn't particularly helpful.
“It sounds interesting, but I really don't have a very strong opinion,” he says.
“So you don't absolutely want to see the natural sciences museum?” Even asks.
“Actually I looked at that online and it looks okay, but not like something I definitely need to see. We can do art,” Isak says.
“And film,” Even says with a grin. “I really want to see the film museum.”
“It's a cinémathèque, actually, so they just basically show old films and such,” Isak explains and Even raises his eyebrows again at the level of reasearch.
Isak must see it on his face, because he rolls his eyes and shakes their clasped together hands.
“So? Klimt?”
“I can't decide if it's smarter to see something that's only here or to go see the art history museum where there's probably tons of different stuff,” Even says.
“Well, we have another morning tomorrow, and then maybe a bit of time on Sunday if you want to get up early, so you don't have to pick only one,” Isak points out.
“But I don't want to do just museums.”
“You're still going to have to pick one though,” Isak says.
Even pouts at him and looks at the poster again.
“Okay, Klimt,” he says. “If it sucks the other one's just across the road.”
“Great attitude,” Isak snorts, but starts walking again.
There's a few smaller courtyards before they make it to one dominated by a dark grey cube-shaped building. It's only when Even looks around that he realises they're stood right next to an equally large white cube-like building.
“Did you notice that?” Even asks, pointing at the building they're stood next to, that also has a gigantic version of the Klimt poster from earlier hanging down the side.
“No, I was distracted by that other one over there,” Isak says.
“Me too. I was not expecting that to be in here, to be honest,” Even says and laughs a little.
“Yeah, that went from imperial to modern a bit faster than I expected,” Isak agrees.
The girl behind the counter inside helpfully explains they'll have to go all the way up to the top to get to their exhibition, and so, after having deposited their cloaks in the cloakroom, they start the trek up the stairs. There's an elevator, but Even sort of wants to peek into the other exhibitions, see if there's anything interesting. The stairs are honestly a little confusing, going around one twist and through two rooms too many for Even to find them logical, but they make it all the way to the top.
They're the only ones in the room right now, and Isak lets go of Even's hand and drifts over to a few smaller portraits, while Even makes his way straight over to the ceiling-height print replicas of what, on inspection, seem to be lost Klimt paintings, destroyed during World War II.
“Hey, Even,” Isak calls quietly, and Even looks up from reading the plaque on the wall by the large replicas to look over at Isak.
“Did you know Klimt did portraits like this?” he asks, pointing at the far smaller portraits he went to study. “I always think of that Kiss painting, all those patterns and the gold and such.”
“Makes sense that he learned how to do that too,” Even says, walking over and taking a closer look at the painting. “But, no, I didn't.”
Isak leaves him to study them by himself after a minute and goes over to have a look at the more Klimt-esque paintings and the ceiling high replicas.
They walk from room to room in mostly silence, sometimes hand-in-hand, sometimes by themselves, only conversing when either of them finds a particularly interesting detail in a plaque or a painting. Even gets stuck on the furniture in one of the later rooms, while Isak studies the large map of older Vienna, comparing it to the modern one on display as well.
There aren't many other people, despite it being Friday afternoon – or maybe because of it. Even's always liked the quiet of a museum. It's not that he thinks one necessarily has to be quiet in a museum, but he likes the sort of hushed awe that comes over people when they look at art.
By the time they make it back outside, the sun has dipped below the horizon, the street lights on.
Isak pulls out his phone and looks something up before turning to Even.
“There's a six-thirty and an eight-forty-five showing at the film museum. We could still make the earlier one and then go for dinner afterwards?” he suggests.
“Sounds good,” Even agrees and slips his hand into Isak's free one. “Lead the way.”
The walk isn't long at all, and Even keeps bumping Isak in the side to make him look up from his phone screen.
“You're going to miss it all,” he says.
“We can come back tomorrow, when there will be light,” Isak says.
“But then it won't be dark,” Even counters, and it's probably a testament to how well they know each other that that makes any kind of sense to Isak, who sighs and deliberately looks around.
“It's very pretty,” he says, sounding not at all like he's only trying to placate Even.
The film museum turns out to be having some sort of focus on an Italian director, showing one of his films from the 70s. The guy selling them their tickets assures them the subtitles are in English, which turns out to be exactly as necessary as Even thought it might be. There's absolutely no chance he can keep up with the rapidfire Italian with the measly few words he remembers from his lessons. He could probably get around Italy if he had to, but this? This is worlds away from any class he's ever had.
It's a pretty funny movie though, and instead of trying to find a place to go eat, they decide to grab a takeaway pizza on the way back to the air bnb and eat there before sinking into bed far earlier than they usually would.
The following morning, Even suggests they go out for breakfast instead of trying to find a grocery store and then come back, since it's not like they're staying long.
“And we have so much to do! I want to see the art history museum today,” he says.
Isak grins at him.
“Okay. They have cool Egyptian stuff.”
They do have cool Egyptian stuff. They also have cool Greek stuff, and a whole bunch of really cool paintings, and by the time they leave again for lunch, Even feels like his brain is stuffed full with art.
“I really hope you didn't pick some sort of museum-tour,” he says, sliding into a chair opposite Isak once they've found a nice place for them to grab some food. Nothing fancy, but it looked friendly from the outside, all glass front and houseplants.
Isak grins.
“I promise it's not a museum.”
The food isn't traditional – though Even will admit that he knows very little traditional Austrian cuisine that isn't schnitzel, goulash, or apple strudel, and he only knows the last one because of its mention in Sofia Coppola's movie about Marie Antoinette – but it's good, and it's not even expensive.
“Euros are worth less than crowns though,” Isak points out when they leave again and Even comments on the how everything seems so inexpensive.
“Oh, so it's just us?”
“Possibly,” Isak says with a grin.
“We should come here more often. It's kind to our budget.”
“That goes for everywhere that has the Euro,” Isak points out.
“Paris next?” Even suggests, waggling his eyebrows.
Isak laughs and takes Even's hand, pulling his phone back out of his pocket with his other hand.
“Okay, Paris next,” he agrees without looking up.
“So, are you really not going to tell me what we're doing?” Even asks, when Isak sets them down the street.
“No, I'm really not,” Isak confirms.
Turns out what they're doing is a walking tour of all the on site film locations from The Third Man. The moment their guide welcomes them and another couple to it, Even feels a little bit like an idiot for not thinking of it himself. Didn't Isak literally tell him he thought of Vienna because they'd watched The Third Man together?
Not wanting to interrupt the woman speaking, Even only squeezes Isak's hand tightly, and waits until she asks them to follow her to duck down and press a firm kiss to his cheek.
“This is going to be amazing,” he whispers.
And it is.
It's odd how much the real places look different but also the same as the film. They're not in black and white, for one, and it's not 1948, for another. But most things haven't changed that much. The buildings are the same, even if shop fronts aren't. And standing down in the canal, at pretty much the exact same spot the camera must have been for that iconic shot is giving Even goosebumps. It's possible that's also because it's gotten colder with the night falling again, but Even's going to interpret that how he chooses.
His feet had started to hurt towards the end of their time at the art history museum, but for the entirety of the tour he feels a little bit like he's floating. By the end of it though, the cold is beginning to creep in, and the soreness of his feet is coming back with a vengeance. It's probably a bit boring, but they decide to just slowly walk their way back to the air bnb, windowshopping and staring at some of the buildings they pass, and get some takeaway again, though this time they decide on vaguely-Japanese. There are maki rolls and noodles.
“It's ironic that you were so adamant about having marathon sex here and now we're basically knackered at ten,” Isak points out when they're sat lounging on the sofa with glasses of water in their hands after dinner.
“I could go for marathon sex,” Even insists, but Isak only levels him with a look, picks up Even's hand and lets it drop down to flop into his own lap.
“I'm sure you could,” he says drily.
Even laughs a little and then sets his glass of water down on the glass side table, before taking Isak's and from his hand and setting that down too. Then he takes Isak's hand and tugs, leading him back into the bedroom and down onto the bed. They're really a little too tall to be making out on a two-seater sofa.
“Hi,” he says once Isak's flat on his back on the bed, and moves to hover over him.
Isak rolls his eyes, but then he smiles fondly and tilts his head up so he can brush their noses together.
“Hi,” he says back.
Even leans in for a kiss.
Isak goes with it easily, and Even spares half a thought for how well they've learned how to kiss each other by now. It helps that they both like doing it so much, that this is often all they do, just lie down and smack their lips together. Feel each other close, share breath and body warmth until the soft smiles are permanently etched onto their faces.
There isn't any marathon sex that night, but that's cool. Even falls asleep with Isak next to him, and there's nothing more he really needs from a night.
On Sunday, since their flight leaves in the late afternoon, they decide on a breakfast on the go, grab sandwiches and hot chocolates from Starbucks and eat on the way to the museum that the film museum is technically in the lower level of. Alber-something.
Isak nudges him with his elbow in the very first room, nods at a painting.
“Doesn't she kind of look like Beyoncé?” he whispers, and that sets the tone for the rest of their visit. They try to find celebrities' faces in all the portraits, and when they can't, it becomes a game of who can come up with the more pretentious way to describe or interpret something without consulting the plaque or the artist biographies at the entrance to each consecutive room. Theres's a lot to see on each one of the floors, and they take their time with it, so by the time they leave, they're not really interested in finding anything interesting for lunch, and so it's another kebab, just to get rid of the last of their cash.
And then, before Even can so much as blink, it feels like, they're throwing the key in the post box of number 25, get on the train, a plane, and then suddenly they're unlocking their own front door.
The smell hits Even first, that smell of home he won't notice in a good half hour but that's so distinctly different from anything else he's smelled for the last three days. The warmth hits him second, because it's gone chilly in Oslo while they've been away, or maybe Even's just forgotten what goddamn damp cold feels like. It wasn't exactly warm in Vienna either, considering that it's a good bit further south, but it hadn't felt quite as terrible when there wasn't that abominable layer of damp clinging to the air, and, after a few moments outside, clinging to his eyebrows and lashes and skin and clothes.
Isak sets the backback down by the table and the suitcase in front of the chest of drawers, looks at both and then slumps with a sigh.
“Tomorrow,” he decides, and then pulls their tooth brushes out of the suitcase.
“I can't believe I have to go to work tomorrow,” Even mumbles, joining Isak in the bathroom.
“I can't believe I have to go to school tomorrow,” he echoes.
They share a commiserating look through the mirror, and then follow their usual evening routine so seamlessly, it almost feels like they never went anywhere in the first place.
But there's a bunch of postcards that Even bought in various museum shops in their suitcase, and there's the airplane-identifying ribbon still slung around the handle of it. And there's the memory of it in Even's mind when he crawls into bed, shivering a little because of how cold the sheets feels against his skin.
Isak turns off the light and then comes to join him, shivering and making a displeased noise before he shuffles closer.
“Did you like it?” Isak asks, eyes glittering in the dark.
“Yeah, I liked it,” Even says and ducks down for a quick, minty kiss. “I like you too.”
“That's embarrassing for you,” Isak says. “Didn't I tell you about the other guy?”
Even laughs quietly and kisses Isak again before shaking him a little.
“You're a menace.”
“You like me,” Isak says, sounding as smug as he ever does.
Even doesn't say anything, but he leans down for another kiss, this one a little longer, a little slower. Yeah. He does like him.
“Good night, Isak.”
“Good night,” Isak says, and Even can hear the smile in his voice even with his eyes falling shut. “I like you too.”
The End