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Summary
“What are you doing being such a stranger?" Aleksander hums. She only has a second to cock her head at him in confusion before his hands are wrapping around her waist — she tries not to think about how his fingertips almost touch, how they nearly wrap all the way around — and tugs her onto his lap, between his strong, muscled thighs.
“Uncle Sasha,” Alina gasps. “I’m not five anymore. I don’t have to sit on your lap.”
“Really? You’re still so little, though,” He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that only deepened the crow’s feet inlaid into the skin there. “Come on, Lina. Don’t make it weird. I practically raised you myself.”