Work Text:
On any other one of his days off, Gellert would have absolutely refused the very thought of waking up earlier than lunchtime. Having spent five days in a row on duty, the twelve hours long shifts tired him to the bones, and last night, when he finally, finally arrived home, all he could do was kick off, and out of view, his uniform before falling into bed, then asleep, without any further thought about tomorrow’s events.
Daylight rouses him a few hours later, wicked rays of sun robbing him from much needed rest, and Gellert growls as he rolls over, reaching out to the other, empty side of the bed. It's part of his morning routine; although he knows that Albus, apart from special occasions and rare, blessed days, is not in Berlin to wake up next to him.
However, this changes with today. Albus is moving in together with him.
This thought is enough to wake him up properly, to make his heart beating in excitement, and nervousness, too, as the place is a mess, and according to the Tempus he casts with a flick of his fingers, Albus will arrive in a little less than one and a quarter hours.
For a moment, it’s overwhelming.
He's a nightmare to live with, he knows this pretty well, chaos incarnated, with unpredictable schedule and impossible working hours at least for a few more years until he gets promoted if he plays his cards well and succeeds with his missions. Albus, meanwhile, is his complete opposite, always tidy, organised, a stable point when everything else blurs. His better half, for whom he would do anything, getting up and cleaning out the apartment included.
Not in the Muggle way, of course, there are still some lines drawn out of practicality; and anyway, if he’s lucky enough to possess the gift of magic, why should he wash the week-old dirty dishes with his own hands when a few small movements with his wand – or without it, if he feels like showing off – is a much quicker and way more effective way of getting them clean and shiny again? The same goes for the rest of the apartment, with one exception, the bed.
It can’t be anything else but Albus’s effect on him, this silly sentimentalism camouflaged as an “old habit”, when it was obviously so much more, big enough that even Gellert couldn’t escape from it.
One gentle smile from Albus, a well-timed and even more well-placed kiss on his neck, a murmured would you like to help me with the bed, please? all those years ago, and here he is now, making the bed with his own two hands, fluffing the pillows, arranging them symmetrically, adjusting the sheet, then changing the linen from the current plain dark grey to the one with dark blue colouring and a pattern that forms the constellations visible from the northern hemisphere, because it’s Albus’s favourite, and therefore Gellert prefers it above others too.
Once the last comforter is in its place, the laundry is done, his clothes are in his closet, folded, and there's fresh air in the apartment thanks to an air out, Gellert is glad and proud to note that everything is ready to welcome Albus in their first shared home.
Well, almost everything, as he's as far from presentable as he can be. Feeling like he will not fancy the picture that awaits him in the mirror, he steps in front of it, only to frown and pout at his own state. Not only he looks exactly as an auror who hadn't had a proper, long, undisturbed sleep for more than a week with those dark circles beneath his eyes, his face is also sunken, cheeks hollow – the result of his meals consisting of mainly dry toast and oatmeal, enough to ease away the hunger for a few hours, yet not the most sufficient on the long run –, and his normally curly hair now sticks to his forehead on the front, and resembles a talentless bird's nest on the sides.
He knows Albus is more than happy to take, embrace and cherish any version of himself he's ready to offer, but his beloved only deserves the very best, and Gellert will provide him nothing less.
During his years in Durmstrang, he rarely had a chance to take a warm shower due to the teaching staff's unshakable opinion about the connection between harsh circumstances and the strengthening one's character. The fact that they lived like those long gone kings of the North they despised ever so loudly was somehow left out of their train of thoughts. One of the greatest advances of getting kicked out of there was the easy access to hot water, something he very much prefers over listening to boring lessons held by close-minded people.
A shower and a change of clothes later he’s more than less satisfied when he passes the mirror, emerging from the bathroom just in time to hear all four knocks on the front door, the sign that Albus, finally, at long last, is here.
To say Gellert is not rushing to the door in an ungraceful hurry would be a nasty lie, and the way he fumbles with his keys instead of opening the door with magic happens only because he has a tendency to not function properly when his boyfriend husband is around.
On the other hand, to say he’s surprised when he sees Albus would be the understatement of the century, because Gellert is positively stunned, to the point of not noticing the bouquet of flowers Albus holds in his hands until his lips turn down at the corners, and a crease of worry wrinkles the space between his brows. Then, and only then comes Gellert to his mind, kisses Albus on the lips over the heathers, gardenias and primroses, guides him in gently, closes the door, takes the bouquet, and hugs him close, in this particular order.
“Good afternoon, beloved,” Gellert whispers into auburn strands of hair, now only reaching down to his neck, but the last time when they met, eleven days ago, it was still down to his elbows.
He wonders if he should mention the drastic change of appearance, but Albus, dear, gold-hearted, beautiful, always beautiful Albus makes the move instead of him.
“A good afternoon, indeed,” he sighs happily, then gives Gellert a quick peck on the cheeks before taking a half-step backwards. “Look, I know I didn’t tell you about my hair, I probably should have, and I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I just wanted something new to look older, more like a professor.” Albus blinks up at him, baby blue eyes questioning. “Is it too bad? Be honest.”
Gellert has to pull him back into his arms, embrace him a little tighter. As brilliant Albus is with all branches of magic and in general, sometimes he has no idea how certain thoughts come to his mind.
“With all honesty, my heart, you look lovely. Alluring. Delightful. Exquisitely handsome. Irresistibly tempting.” With each word he kisses Albus to emphasise their meaning, while his free hand somehow wanders further below, to rest on his waist. “Though not a day older than you are, sweet. I dare say you look a few years younger like this than with the long hair, and I envy your students who have the luck to witness your spectacular sight while I’ll be rotting in a mouldy office, filling out reports.”
It delivers the desired effect: Albus giggles, then kisses him again. So many kisses already, and he’s only been home for no more than five minutes.
What a life awaits them together if they keep going like this.