Chapter Text
The click of Fyodor’s keyboard wrung through the cold and brisk air of his room.
It was dark, the only light being Fyodor’s many monitors on his desk.
He had a desk lamp, I mean everyone does right?
He just didn’t really like using it. I mean, the darkness was such a kind and comforting environment wasn’t it? At least it was much kinder to the anemic man’s eyes than the light.
But it seemed as though Nikolai Gogol disagreed.
“Fedya!! I’m hooooome~” Nikolai switched on every light in the room, which caused Fyodor to physically recoil in disgust.
“Nikolai- turn it off-!” “What’s wrong with it?” Nikolai’s lip jutted outwards in a pouting manner, his arms crossed like a little child at a playground.
“It’s so bright- oh my Lord…” Nikolai turned off one singular light.
The balcony light.
Of which, Fyodor could not see either way.
“Do I not get a welcome home hug?” Nikolai’s hands moved to his hips, as he stared at his boyfriend expectantly.
Fyodor didn’t know how a grown ass man could be as clingy as Nikolai was, but there they were.
Embracing each other, breathing in each other’s scent.
“Are you happy now Nikolai?” Fyodor whispered into Nikolai’s ear, his fingers beginning to take apart the braid at the back of his boyfriend’s head.
“Hmmm…” Nikolai considered it.
But he’d been away from his boyfriend for so long! This wasn’t nearly enough attention!!
“Kiss..?” Fyodor smiled slightly, his hands resting on Nikolai’s hips, as the silver haired boy looked up at Fyodor with gleaming, pleading eyes.
Oh he was so cute.
“Fine, you attention seeking card holder.” Fyodor pressed his lips against Nikolai’s, the silver haired boy tasting like peppermints and smelling like lavenders.
Fyodor returned to his work, which was clearly the wrong choice of actions.
“Dos-kuuun, should I buy crunchy or smooth peanut butter when I go to the grocery store later?” Nikolai bombarded Fyodor with questions of this sort, until Fyodor finally, finally powered off his computer.
To Nikolai’s much appreciated surprise, Fyodor climbed into their bed.
Nikolai curled up next to his boyfriend, nuzzling his head in Fyodor’s neck.
“You should get… the smooth peanut butter.” “Do you like that one better?” Fyodor’s thumbs traced small circles in Nikolai’s hands as he pondered such a seemingly pointless question.
And to answer that question, he didn’t actually like peanut butter at all.
But Nikolai did.
And though Fyodor never showed it, that was the only thing that mattered to him.