Chapter Text
The first thing Florence notices when she gets off the plane in Moscow is the snow out the window. She’s surprised they were able to land here with the way it’s storming, and it wasn’t without a bit of fear for her life. She curses herself for deciding to come here in the winter, of all times, but work finally slowed down and Svetlana’s pestering finally wore her down. It’s freezing out. She knows Svetlana will want to take her sightseeing around the city, and she accepts her fate of being perpetually frozen. Her fuzzy socks are going to have to really pull their weight to keep her toes intact.
THe second thing Florence notices is a roughly Svetlana Sergievskaya sized projectile coming towards her at high speeds. She doesn’t get to think about it for very long because before she can blink she’s blinded by said projectile’s body bumping into her face. She instinctively grabs on to hold her up.
Svetlana dismounts a few moments later. Now that Florence can see her, she’s beaming. She’s sent Florence pictures a few times, but never with herself as the main focus. Ones where she’s off to the side and showing how big her dogs are getting, using herself as a ruler. Others where she’s holding up the sweater she’s just knit. Always from the side, always missing a bit of her. But here she is, fully visible and, as Florence has just experienced head on, tangible.
She’s shorter than Florence remembers. Of course Florence knows that she’s five foot two, but she forgets just how tiny that is. She has a buzz cut now. She’s in a tank top (Florence is freezing, she doesn’t get how she can wear that) and big, heavy boots. The last time Florence saw her, it would have been a dress and heels. She smiles. It’s a good thing.
Anatoly isn’t far behind her. He’s carrying her coat- so that’s why she hasn’t frozen solid yet- and he looks exhausted. Florence doesn’t blame him, it’s the middle of the night after all, and Svetlana is vibrating like a dog who’s just seen a squirrel run by. She’s probably kept him going all day.
Svetlana hugs Florence, making an excited little humming noise. “My God, I’m so happy to see you,” she giggles. Her head doesn’t even reach Florence’s shoulders. She must have jumped really high to cling to her the way she had. Florence thanks God that Svetlana hadn’t knocked her over into some poor, unsuspecting businessman. In reality, Svetlana had carefully calculated the maneuver in the car. Anatoly had asked her not to do it. She ignored him. “Like a tree,” she had said, “I’m going to climb her like a tree.”
Florence gives her a squeeze in return. “Me too. Wow… This is weird.” The laughter is infectious.
Anatoly catches up a moment later. He waves at Florence, but seems a bit awkward. It hadn’t been his idea for her to come visit. She gets it. As much as she thinks she’s done pretty well moving past everything, she still has her moments of resentment.
He extends his hand. She shakes it. He gives her a nervous smile in return. “I could take your bag,” he offers. Ah. Yeah, he wasn’t going for the handshake at all. She was fully intending to carry her bag herself, but she hands it to him to mitigate some of the awkwardness of the exchange. Her being there is already awkward enough.
Svetlana links her arm into Florence’s and they start to walk. Svetlana walks quickly and pulls Florence along with her, just like a dog eager for her walk. Florence smiles, knowing her dogs, who are about the same size as her, are a perfect fit. Something about pets who look like their owners and all that.
It’s easier to talk once they get to the car. Anatoly drives and when Florence sits in the back, looking to be polite, Svetlana gets into the back with her. The two laugh about how it feels like they have a chauffeur, and Anatoly gives a good natured chuckle towards it.
“It’s wonderful timing, " Svetlana says. “The girls moved out this past summer. I sent you pictures from their graduation, right? They’re away for university now. I said that they should be close enough to commute, but they were eager to go.” She shrugs. “I can’t say that I blame them. The positive is that we have somewhere for you to sleep without anyone needing to sleep on the couch.”
“You know I would have slept on the couch. Or found somewhere else to stay.”
Svetlana shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have it. Why waste any of our time with each other, anyways? No, you’re staying with us. That was never a question.”
Florence smiles and nods. “I get it, I get it. It doesn’t matter anyways. I’m here now.”
“Yes, and the worst you’ll have to contend with is one of the babies crawling in with you at night.” Svetlana speaks fondly about her dogs. Always her dogs- never Anatoly’s dogs, or their dogs, but her dogs. Florence gets a laugh about how she always calls them babies. They probably weigh more than her, and they’re far from puppies now. Six years old. It’s odd to think about, considering she got them a couple years after they’d seen each other last, and at the time they were puppies so tiny that you could hold them in one hand. Nowadays if you tried that, you very well might break something. Seeing the way Svetlana talks about them almost makes Florence forget that.
-
Svetlana was wrong about the worst she’d contend with being one of the babies as she slept. As it turns out, both of the babies like sleeping with her very much. She’s glad she packed so much allergy medication. She was given full permission to shut them out of the room, but well… they’re the babies. The nickname has endeared her to them several times over. So instead she puts a sheet over her face to avoid a mouthful of dog hair and takes as much medicine as is medically advisable.
When she wakes up, Anatoly and Svetlana are already awake. Anatoly is cooking breakfast. Florence observes him from behind, silent so she can watch him without his noticing. He’s drawn in by the activity, completely focused aside from humming and dancing a little from time to time. She smiles. God, he’s a nerd, and that’s saying something, considering the nerds she knows. She’s not ashamed to call it what it is anymore.
He never cooked when they were together. Left her to do it, sometimes, but they also got into the habit of eating pretty lazy meals. He was stressed, she was tired. It’s good to see that he’s found some joy in it now.
She grabs her coat and steps out onto the balcony where Svetlana is sitting with a cup of coffee. The snow has stopped since last night and it’s not nearly as cold with the sun out. Svetlana gives her a smile. “Sleep well?”
“Your dogs are going to kill me.”
She laughs. “There’s coffee inside if you need help waking up. Or I could make you a cup of tea.”
Florence shakes her head. “I’m fine. Plus, I’d hate to interrupt whatever your husband has going on.”
“Bother him all you want. I know I do.”
Florence gives a sigh. She can see her breath. “How are things like with him?”
Svetlana frowns. “What do you mean?”
“No one’s forcing you to stay with him. Your kids are out of the house and everything.” Florence shakes her head. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do. Just curious.”
She nods. “I get it. I never told you about how we were doing.”
“I didn’t want to ask”
“It’s alright.” Svetlana puts her cup down on the table. “We haven’t really been “together” since he returned. At first it was for the children, yes, but we found we make much better roommates than spouses. He’s generally disinterested in romance anyways. It explained quite a bit.” She laughs. Florence can’t help but laugh along. Yes, it does explain a lot. It makes her feel a little bit better about everything that’s happened. “I’ve had enough of men, myself. If I were to find the right girl I might bother with separating.” She gives a side glance to Florence, gauging the reaction to her statement. Florence seems neutral. To Svetlana, it’s a better reaction than even outgoing positivity. It’s casual. It’s fine. She finishes her thought. “So we are married. But we’re just friends. We live much more comfortably with each other than we used to.”
“It’s nice to hear. Sidesteps the messy divorce.” Florence exhales as hard as she can. Svetlana initially thinks she’s frustrated, but then she starts to play with the cloud it makes. Svetlana sighs, realizing she’s being jumpy over nothing. Florence has seen too much in her life to care about a platonic marriage, or a lesbian, or anything else she could throw at her. They fall into a pleasant silence and watch the people below walk by until Anatoly is finished with breakfast.