Chapter Text
How badly could you miss a loved one? “Infinitely” was an easy answer, but how much was “infinitely”? Were there even words for it? Maybe Russell knew some, but for Frank the longing was manifested in the excitement of seeing his loved one again at last. As soon as he had seen the team off to collect Russell from the black site, he began to tidy up. Russell would probably want to talk about the next steps straight away, so he laid out some maps. Then he looked for candles and - where was the damn wine? Russell hadn't drunk it when he was here alone, had he? Frank did find a bottle in the far corner of the kitchen cupboards, luckily the others weren't there, he made an undignified sight grabbing it. It had better not have turned to vinegar. Maybe he should take the whisky with him, but hide it for later.
He went into the conservatory with everything he needed, put the bottles and glasses on the tables and put other things away. It almost looked like their first evening when they had found the Rook together. They had accidentally fried the electricity and it was too dark to find their way around this huge property. Besides, they weren't sure if the Soviets had really left the place, so minimal light was better. At least that's what they claimed in front of each other and lit the candles they found in the conservatory. Ah, he needed a few more blankets. At some point it got so chilly, they had wrapped themselves in a blanket. Russell, although marginally taller and a little heavier, enjoyed sitting on Frank's lap. They were warm together, stealing kisses from each other again and again, forgetting the time together.
At the memory, Frank couldn't help but smile to himself. Russell would definitely be delighted. Besides, he needed some rest after everything that had happened. Like the CIA - no, he didn't want to think about that at the moment. Nor about the possibility of something going wrong with the mission. No, Russell would come back to him. He had to, couldn't help it. They always came back to each other. As soon as Frank had everything ready and prepared - to his dismay, he had to cook dinner for the team today - he sat down in the small bay window overlooking the entrance. The phone was nearby; he hoped so much that the team would get in touch soon. Maybe they would come back sooner.
When they called, they announced their return, all unharmed. That was lucky. Troy rambled on about Jane, about how the CIA was now hunting them all down as wanted criminals, but Frank didn't care. As long as they brought Russell back, he didn't care about status or name. That Livingstone prick always got on his nerves anyway, Hudson could at least gather information, what the guy did and what he was doing at the CIA was a mystery to Frank. If he could, he wouldn't have just broken his nose. But that was a topic for later.
Frank positioned himself outside on time, wanting to see Russell as soon as possible. He would even have liked to go down the stairs, but that would be problematic with the wheelchair. Not having kneecaps sometimes sucked big time. He could see his team from a distance, Russell seemed to be walking faster as he spotted him. Although that could have been his imagination. As soon as Russell reached the top of the stairs, he reached out his hand to greet Frank and Frank pulled him down into a warm hug. They both laughed. “I even get a welcoming committee, who would have expected that?”
“Just this once, and only because I didn't want to sit in this dusty shack,” Frank joked. He would wait outside every time if he had to.
“Let's take you back to the ‘dusty shack’, there is a lot to discuss.” Quite naturally, Russell grabbed the handles of Frank's wheelchair and pushed him back in. The rest of the team exchanged uncertain glances, Troy even opened his mouth briefly to say something, but Frank quickly waved him off. Russell was allowed to wheel him. The rest were not.
As soon as they were inside, Russell turned to the team: "The debriefing is in ten minutes. Just let me have a few words with Woods in private first."
“Get moving!” Frank followed up. Why did Russell want to talk? What did he want to talk about?
Russell moved him to the large table in the middle of the room and marveled at the maps for a moment. While Frank sat on the table, Russell examined him instead of looking at the maps.
“So, why did you send the others away?”
“To have time for this,” Russell said, taking Frank's face in both hands before pressing his lips to his. Russell kissed him like a man dying of thirst, gulping down every drop of water he could find, which made Frank melt slowly. Apparently Russell had shaved before the flight, his skin was almost smooth. They clung to each other like new lovers. As if they had to re-explore what they knew, unwilling to let go of the other even for a moment. As if they were the smoke they were chasing, but much more perfect. Frank wouldn't touch another cig if he could hang on Russell's lips forever. Would work his mouth sore until there was nothing left if he could, because he didn't want to let go.
All at once, Russell pushed him backwards. Frank put up with it for a bit, grinning, then broke the kiss to protest. “The others might see this.”
“We still have some time, don't worry,” Russell breathed before he wanted to take Frank's lips again. They weren't there to talk right now. Frank trusted Russell's words and let himself be pressed onto the surface of the table. The familiar weight chased away any thoughts of being seen. All that mattered was the moment. Just Russell and him. He ran one hand through Russell's hair, feeling Russell exhale relaxed at the touch. The other hand tried to find a way under Russell's shirt. They laughed briefly because Frank had to pull his shirt out of his pants to do it. Stroking bare skin felt much better than stroking a stupid jacket, it felt closer, more intimate. He would have loved to wrap his legs around him too. They didn't do anything more, they didn't need anything more. Time didn't matter.
Someone cleared their throat above their heads. They both looked up, startled. Felix was standing at a safe distance in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Maybe you should have planned more than ten minutes. Unless this... is to be discussed." Frank rolled his eyes. Why did Felix have to be such an ass? Or so punctual? The others seemed to be taking more time. Germans and their strange fetish for punctuality.
Russell hurriedly straightened up and pulled Frank back into a sitting position. “No, of course not.” Then Russell finally turned to the maps and pulled the correct one out. Frank bit his lip with a grin. Russell would never apologize for something like that. He liked that about him.
Just as Russell was spreading out the map, Frank leaned over and grabbed him by the upper arm to make him stop. “Come to the conservatory later, usual time,” Frank whispered. Russell nodded briefly and smiled. Frank let go of him just as the others arrived and the meeting began.
How much they missed each other? As much as you can miss each other when you can hardly wait to hold the other in your arms. As much as blankets can warm them, Frank on Russell's lap, wine glasses in hand and the whisky not far away by candlelight. “Infinite” didn't even come close to describing it.