Work Text:
Deep in the great nothingness of Siberia, it's summer, and raining. Droplets beat tiny drums against a reinforced window built to withstand attack by both Nature and Man, adding to the isolated comfort of those sleeping within. Those sleeping out of sight and reach of the windows, in the darkest corners of the room, their backs to the wall, they're eyes directed towards the door opposite, which is barricaded from the inside and only accessible by their children in an emergency. Of all the ways to ascend to consciousness, being borne on a bed of rain is definitely one of the sweetest.
Fingers twitch where they rest on a pale shoulder. A man yawns like a tiger, displaying brutal teeth lining a jaw that seems to open too wide, tongue a shock of pink. “It's raining.” He says, drowsily, when his head hits the silk pillow once again.
“Mmm…five more minutes.” sighs his wife, snuggling back against him.
“More like fifteen, my special girl,” moments later, the skin and tiny hairs of Alina’s neck tickle Yuri's nose, and he reacts by biting her, gently. “You're tickling me, Linochka.”
“You're biting me, Yurochka.”
“Do something about it then.”
So Alina does, tackling her man to the bed, where she proceeds to attempt to tickle him to death, their laughter echoing around the room and beyond. Mama and papa are playing, think their brood, who return to their own fun and games.
“Have mercy! I surrender!” Yuri holds up his hands in the universal gesture of submission.
But before he can be forgiven, he must be kissed, Lina leaning down to plant her lips on the black eye he acquired in the line of duty, before moving on to other fresh bruises, her fingers lovingly moving across white lines of scars. Her husband's breath hitches. Never ever did he dare hope for this outcome. And it has not come for free. No. The gain was great, as was the loss. His eyes, cast to the side while she's kissing his neck, where a nasty scar has faded to a mere shadow, land upon a chest of drawers on which stand many photos. Many photos of the same person. Graceful on his broom or duck footed on the ground, Viktor Krum stares past the couple, smiling or glowering at things they can't see. In their world, for one army to conquer, another must fall.