Work Text:
“world meeting, more like world schmeeding…” you angrily huffed to yourself as you folded clothes into your suitcase. you're sprawled out on the floor, grabbing random articles of clothing and other things to stuff inside your bag when ivan peeks through your bedroom door, looking surprisingly meek for just how big he is.
“ ‘m sorry…” he mutters, shoulders slouched as he sits next to you. “this is what always happens. always notified at the last second.”
ivans bag is already packed with clothes and blankets and his latest knitting project. but still, he feels extremely guilty for making you tag along with the craziness that came with his life.
“it's not your fault.” you look over at him, grabbing his face in your hands and squishing his cheeks. “it's. not. your. fault. cute. little. vanya.” with each pause you squished him a little harder, until he closed his eyes and smiled.
“and maybe, we can even treat it like a little vacation.” you say, now taking the time to stroke your thumbs over his soft skin. “when's the last time you've been to new york?”
“mmm…” he blinks slowly, “ahm… what year did… second war end?”
traveling is stressful. but traveling with a virtually immortal being with no birth certificate, no citizenship, AND a fake russian passport…
“why not use your actual birthday?” you whisper to him. you're in line at TSA whilst ivan is unbuckling his belt and putting it into a container thing. you'd peeked at his passport and looked to see what his birthday was listed as, it was december 25th, 1991. vanya liked christmas, especially more so when he started celebrating with you… but not that much.
“last time i died, it was that day.” he speaks, turning around and giving you a wink.
oh shit. you mentally slap yourself in the face as you walk through the metal detector. no issues, thankfully. but the same couldn't be said for ivan.
you'd went to pick up both of your things when you saw him being gently escorted to the side by some agents, his eyes frantically staring at you and then down at them.
“do you speak english?” you heard one of them ask as you came up a foot or two behind them to make sure everything was alright. ivan starts to shake his head no, but sees you opening your eyes wide and shaking your head yes as a hint of what to do, so he does it too.
“yes, good with um…” he nods slowly at them, trying to smile, “american english?”
a tsa agent turns his head to the other next to him and they both shake their heads. “alright then, we're just going to have to pat down your neck area really quick to make sure nothing's there.”
you tense up. your ivans neck, covered in nasty scars from years and years of punishment. for many years of knowing each other, he covered his neck. with scarves, turtle neck sweaters, bandages… it was only a month before your engagement that you first saw it, when ivan's memories and past got the best of him and you were cuddling with him in bed, whispering sweet nothings as he sobbed. he'd stopped sobbing incoherently then, taking his scarf off and then the bandages, showing you his wounds.
‘this is what they did to me.’ he told you.
“uh, sorry,” you push through some people to get next to ivan and the guards look surprised, “could we get a private screening room or something?”
you wrap your arm around his protectively and look up at him, his mouth slightly agape in shock.
“and who are you?” a guard asks, raising an eyebrow.
“h-his, um, wife… sorry, he's got a medical condition there…” your hand finds his and you feel his fingers intertwined with yours.
“understood, we'll just have you follow us over here.” the other agent speaks. without another word, they turn heel and head towards a corner with privacy screens.
“thank you.” ivan whispers to you, leaning down to put a firm kiss on your forehead.
eventually you get through security, and you spend your time waiting for the plane with your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, listening to the comforting noises of his breathing.
hours of plane rides, layovers, and for what? diplomacy? diplomacy didn't exist for ivan. he didn't want to get to know the people he was supposed to get to know. he didn’t want to ‘put in a good word’ for random people to his ‘boss’, who wasn't even his boss and got rid of his special status as a living nation, forcing him to flee across the fucking planet… still something existed deep within him that felt obligated to at least be present.
yet deep in his gut he didn't want to be there. especially because you couldn't come along with him.
“you look so handsome, vanya.” you're stood on the tips of your toes, smiling in delight that your husband let you dress him for his first day of the conference. he's in front of the hotel mirror, gently picking up the sides of the long purple coat you selected and dropping it to watch it bounce. it fits him nicely, almost like a dress.
“wait, stay put. final touches.” you pat his back then go to dig in your suitcase.
you carry the ‘final touch’ over to him and wrap it around his neck, tying a loose bow around the back. then, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “how's this?”
“i feel so pretty,” ivan takes your hand in his and squeezes it. “all because of you.”
you give a dopey love struck smile, feeling his hand gently caress your cheek, his eyes staring at you with complete adoration.
“i think it is time i must go.” he says, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. “what will you do while i am gone?” he asks, enunciating his question with a kiss on the lips.
“hmm, maybe look up somewhere we can eat after the conference? have you had new york style pizza?” you ask, watching him pick up his wallet and put it in his coat pocket.
“nyet, is it yummy?”
“you'll love it.” you say. you watch him as he goes for the hotel room door, his hand holding onto the door handle with trepidation.
“hey, ivan.” you call out to him and he turns his head to face you. you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his large, warm body, feeling how soft he was and smelling him… he smelled like jasmine tea, so flowery and faint. “i love you. things will go fine. just look forward to tonight.”
he nods. you feel his body loosen up under your touch, stiff muscles relaxing with your words.
“i will.”
the first thing ivans superiors did upon seeing him was to scream at him. about where he'd been for god knows how long, how he was failing not only them but his country in a “”time of need””, how necessary it was for him to come back ‘home’... did home even exist anymore? what was ‘home’ anymore, anyways?
home was destroyed when they experimented on him. when they sent him to war with a bunch of humans, and when he watched them all die. when they tested weapons on him. when they sealed him in a sensory deprivation chamber for weeks as a punishment.
and he had to sit next to the people who'd force him to do such things with a smile. even though his heart tensed with every call of his name. even though he felt he wasn't even in control of his own body anymore. this feeling had become so foreign to him after living with you.
as lunch came and went, the resentment inside of him grew. watching his superiors talk amongst truly evil people as he stood feet behind them, eyes growing cold, unable to do anything.
it all came to a head during the conference debrief. one question, after years of mistreatment. “why'd you leave?”
it felt like he just came back to earth at that moment. ivan didn't say anything at first, but then his face dropped. “why do you think?”
“you have used me for your science, for your propaganda, you've dissected me alive, used me like a pincushion…” he spoke, his voice slightly shaking as the room quieted around him. “why would you ask me that? after all i have done for you, i am treated this way?”
someone gets up and tries to comfort him, but he shoos them away, biting his lip to try and prevent his welling up tears from flowing. “you humans have destroyed me over and over again, will you ever be satisfied?”
people sat in stunned silence as ivan broke down. tears streamed down his chubby cheeks and he sniffled, feeling utterly pathetic and used.
“i am done with you all.” he spoke, his legs wobbly as he stood up. “please, never speak to me again. i refuse to work with any of you, for any longer.”
with that, he took his wallet out of his pocket and threw out his government card and his security release pass on the table and left.
*+*+*+*
you'd been rolling around on the huge hotel room bed all day while this was going on. scrolling your phone for new york city hidden gems, restaurants, museums… what would your vanya like? maybe somewhere low-key after conferencing all day, or maybe he'd want to go to the bar and get drinks?
your mind is running at a thousand miles per hour with fun ideas of what to do when ivan opens the door. you jump off the bed and run over to him.
“how was your– oh, fuck…” you slow down immediately when you see his face. tear stains run down his face and his eyes are glossy, like he's not fully there.
“vanya, what happened?” you ask, coming up to him and wrapping your arms around him in a deep hug. he mutters what happened under his breath, not letting you let go of him for a moment. your arms around him feel so comforting, so safe.
“let's lay down, okay?” you tell him, slowly letting go. he’s crying again, you reach your hand out and wipe away the tears from his eyes. slowly the two of you go to the bed and he sits down beside you while you stroke his hair.
“my love…” you mutter as your hands run gently over his face. he looks so tiny there, with his legs crossed whilst he leans his head on your shoulder. ivans breath is shaky, you put your hand on his back and gently guide him to a steady pace.
he leans back, and you take the opportunity to unbutton his coat and toss it haphazardly aside. “lay on me vanya,” you tell him, “i’ll rub your back a little, okay?”
ivan makes a weak affirmative noise and lays his body into you… he's very heavy but the pressure of his body on top of yours feels so delightful. you stick your hands under his shirt and start massaging his back, feeling his scar stricken (yet still quite soft) skin. he hums gently as you do that, feeling comforted by your presence.
you close your eyes and listen to his breathing, scratching your nails over his skin. slowly, the sound of not just his exhales but the ac and the hustle and bustle of the city faded away, replaced by the noise of wind rustling through heavy cedar trees. soon too, the blackness of your eyelids turns to light and you look around, there's snow as far as you can see. over trees, over houses… and as you move your hand, you can see a frozen river in the distance, too. it's so cold that your nose scrunches up and you have to lift up your hand and open your eyes once more to be transported back to reality.
you peek over vanya's head and realize that you must've fallen asleep with him on top of you. it's much later in the night, and he'd rolled over and was covered with blankets. he'd also covered you up with the quilt he made you while also throwing your stuffed animal into bed, too.
“oh, vanya…” you whisper, rolling onto your side. you watch him as he sleeps, chest rising and falling with each breath. you reach for his hand, touching his wrists and palms to see if he had any reaction.
but he must've been in a deep sleep. instead, with each pulse in his veins you saw the river once more. this time it was much closer, you could almost reach your hand out and touch it…
wait… you could touch it?
you reach your hand out further and feel icy wind licking at your fingertips, but you continue to lean in further and further until you feel your hand submerged in it. but your balance slips, and suddenly– you fall in.
instinctively you try to swim to the surface, but your body sinks. even though you try to kick and swing your arms, it's no use. you feel bitter cold water surrounding you as you go further and further down, your lungs constrict and you bubble out all the air you had left.
it doesn't take you too long to pass out, afterwards.
you awake in a black void. everything around you is black. there's no way to parse which way is up and down or left or right… or even where you were, for gods sake!!
you get up onto your feet and look around, but as you turn your body, you notice a house. it looks old and dilapidated, with a shabby roof and moss covering most of the brick exterior. it piques your curiosity, so you walk over.
you climb onto the porch and jiggle the door handle, finding it unlocked. you open it a little and peek inside. there's a fat crt tv playing the news on a table, next to a half drunk mug of tea. opposite to that is a big brown couch with huge bookshelves on either side, and on the walls is a red rug.
you get curious and step inside, feeling the floor beneath you creak and groan with every movement. you look around cautiously, feeling eerily alone, even more so when you look out a window at the endless void outside. but slowly you make your way to the kitchen. giving a quick gaze around you see many bottles of liquor, some filled with alcohol but others with pickled vegetables and oils.
just as you're about to open the fridge, you hear the wood above you groan and… the coughing of a small child? you freeze in place, ever so slightly turning your head towards the source of the noise. you look out and see the staircase, the lights upstairs look like they're on.
you creep as quietly as possible to the stairs and climb them until you reach the top step. peering around the corner your eyes are suddenly met with ivan sitting on the floor across from a tiny bed.
is it really…? you think to yourself, making your way over to his side.
you came into his room and gently closed the door behind you. ivan doesn't seem to realize you're there until you sit next to him and put your hand into his. gently, he looks at you with kind eyes, but then turns his head back to the bed.
“... who is that?” you ask him, staring at the bed's occupant.
“it's me.”
you stay quiet for a while after that, exhaling deep. ivan reaches over the bed and adjusts the blankets so that the child's tiny hands are covered. you can see their tiny body moving with each breath, and their soft rosy cheeks and teensy little eyelashes…
“baby vanya is so adorable…” you look over at him and rest your head on his shoulder. “poor baby.”
“she had a bad nightmare.” ivan tells you, not breaking his view of the child. “a scary man slit her throat because she didn't get her work done.”
“that sounds awful.” you reply, a sinking feeling of dread entering your stomach. “but she's safe now. the nightmare is over.”
“yes, but it's one of those nightmares she will never forget.” he adds. you don't even need to question why he knows that. but all of the sudden, an idea pops into your mind.
“you should hold her.” you tell him. he looks at you for a second, confused. but you scoot over and lean into the bed, scooping the sleeping child into your arms. you present her to ivan and he looks stunned.
“come on, put your arms out.” you insist upon him, nodding and holding her out towards him. “she needs love, too.”
you put her gently into ivans arms, he swaddles the blanket around her and holds her close to his chest, eyes glossed over with tears.
you watch as he holds himself with a smile, not even caring as the world around you mushes and blends up together into a swirl of colors and noises.
“good morning~!”
suddenly, you've been gently awoken by your husband. groggily you rub your eyes and stretch out of bed, then realize he has his outside clothes on… and a paper bag that was emitting the most delightful of smells.
you feel his bodyweight hit the bed as he sits next to you and puts the paper bag into your lap. “you've been very asleep, so i got you treats.”
you open up the bag and see a fat everything bagel with a thick schmear of cream cheese and your heart flutters in joy. “ivan, you didn't have to–”
“mhh, but i wanted to.” he speaks, leaning his head on top of yours. “i must keep my wife fed and happy, no?”
you snort. “pssht, i mean. yeah, i guess.”
“well, please eat.” he gets off the bed and finds the room kettle. “a skinny wife will be the first to die in russian winter!”
“shut up!” you whine playfully whilst stuffing some bagel into your mouth. you can
hear ivan giggling as he goes into the bathroom to fill the kettle.
as you swallow it down you can't help but smile.
he's really doing better today, you think. i wonder why.