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The rain poured down the windows in sheets, the drumbeat of it on the roof so loud it drowned out the crackling of the fireplace. Silently, Lithuania moved around the study, dutifully drawing the heavy blue curtains closed against the night. Thunder grumbled in the distance as Ivan poured two cups of tea from the samovar he’d set up on the table in front of the sofa.
“Come sit with me,” he said, holding one of the steaming cups out for Tolys.
He hesitated—he always hesitated—before gently taking the cup and sitting beside Ivan, maintaining just enough distance that no one could accuse them of indecency, should they be walked in on. They wouldn’t, of course, especially not at this hour, but Tolys seemed to need time to warm up to him every night they talked.
Trying not to let that bother him, Ivan turned to add milk to his tea before offering it to Tolys, who silently accepted it. Stirring his tea with one hand, he selected a sugar cube and slid it into his mouth; holding it gingerly between his teeth, he took a sip of tea, letting it dissolve in his mouth. Only a few sips later, it had melted away completely, and he reached for another, pausing when he saw that Tolys hadn’t drank yet.
He was staring blankly at the wall before him, though Ivan was sure he wasn’t actually looking at it. Gently, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He reminded Ivan of an ancient forest: secretive, and always a little sad, perhaps somewhat too aware of his age and of how much time was still left in the world. Some days, the melancholy clung to him like fog to the sea; Ivan wished he could make it disappear, but it was an ancient sort of grief, as old as the land itself…he knew the feeling too well.
“What are you thinking about, Tolya?” he asked softly.
He started. “I—only that it will be winter soon.”
Ivan sighed. “Ever the worrier.”
“I’m not worried,” he retorted. “I was just trying to think how best to prepare the gardens….”
“Ah, I see.” He took a strand of his hair and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, ignoring the slight scowl this elicited from Tolys. “I suppose you’ll be inside more often in the winter, though.”
“I suppose I will,” he replied, somewhat stiffly.
He’d spent today inside as well, because of the rain; Ivan had found some excuse for him to clean the library, where he’d spent most of the day reading. It had been nice to spend the day with Tolys, even if he’d mostly ignored him while working. Well, he got a clean library out of it, he supposed. Tolys much preferred the days he spent tending to the gardens, a position Ivan had been shocked he’d asked for—until he saw how much he enjoyed the work. Ivan’s taste for exotic houseplants and his new greenhouse would ensure he could still do some garden work in the winter, but he intended to use any excuse he could to keep Tolys close to him.
At last, Tolys took a long drink of his tea, still focused on the wall and not on Ivan.
“Worry about the gardens tomorrow,” he said as Tolys set his cup on the table. “We’re still a few weeks away from any frost.”
Tolys sighed; Ivan let go of his hair and took his hand instead, pressing it briefly between his own before he slid his cotton glove off. This finally forced Tolys to look at him, frowning slightly. Ivan ignored him, running his thumb over the calloused skin for a moment before pulling his hand to his lips and kissing it. Still holding his hand, he glanced up, grinning when he saw that Tolys was blushing furiously.
“Ah, Tolya, you’re too sweet,” he said with a laugh; Tolys’s face only reddened further. He kissed his hand again before letting Tolys pull it away and grab his cup of tea again, as though he didn’t want Ivan to take it back.
Forgetting about his own tea, Ivan slid closer to him, so their thighs were touching, and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. For a heartbeat, Tolys stiffened under his touch—but only for a heartbeat, and then he resumed drinking his tea as though Ivan weren’t there. He wondered if there was something bothering him, and if it was worth it to ask.
He kissed the top of Tolys’s head, glancing past him to the fireplace; the flames had grown low, but they still danced hypnotically around the remnants of the log, popping occasionally as the embers shimmered red. The rain had quieted somewhat, though the wind was beginning to make up for it as it hurled itself against the windows, rattling them.
Abruptly, Tolys leaned forward to set his empty cup on the table again; he stood, and Ivan caught his wrist.
“What are you doing?”
Tolys frowned at him. “I was going to put another log on the fire. Unless you don’t want….”
He thought for a moment; he supposed it was early enough they weren’t likely to leave the study for a while. Wordlessly, he let him go, deciding to quickly finish his own tea while he messed with the fireplace. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Tolys returned to the sofa.
“Would you like more?” Ivan asked, gesturing toward the samovar; Tolys shook his head. He hesitated, then pulled his own gloves off, setting them on the table beside his empty cup before reaching out to caress Tolys’s cheek. The light of the fire cast a golden glow, almost giving Tolys the appearance of a flickering halo.
Reflexively, Tolys reached up and grabbed his hand to stop him—though he didn’t push him away, instead pressing Ivan’s hand to his face and turning his head slightly, as though he meant to kiss it, his eyes closed.
“What are you thinking about now?” Ivan asked softly.
“Mm? Nothing in particular.”
“You’re a bad liar, Tolya.”
His cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t say anything more.
Ivan sighed softly to himself before sliding his hand free, then pulling Tolys into a hug. Again, he stiffened at first, before melting into him, nestling his face in the crook of Ivan’s neck. He could have sat there like that for hours, just holding Tolys, feeling his familiar warmth; he half considered letting Tolys fall asleep there—he was certainly tired, he was always tired—so that they could stay there all night.
“Will you come to bed with me later?” Ivan asked after a few minutes, like he did nearly every night.
“If you’d like me to,” Tolys mumbled, his answer never changing.
“Always.”
Tolys clumsily wrapped his arms around him, holding himself closer; Ivan stroked his hair, humming softly. It would be winter soon, the sun would stop rising, the deathly cold would settle in, but for now it was raining, and he was warm with Tolys pressed against his heart; for one more night, he could pretend….