Chapter Text
“Zwei Radler, bitte,” Ilya said.
Shane turned to him, expression an amusing mixture of impressed and betrayed. “You speak German?”
Ilya shrugged, as the bartender turned away to pour their drinks. “Only important phrases. Like how to order beer.”
“You're unbelievable.” Shane shook his head. “You're already full of surprises and we haven't even been here a full day.” But Ilya could see the fondness tugging at one side of his mouth. Fondness was one of Ilya's favorite expressions to see on Shane. Along with annoyance, and admiration, and horniness, and...well, all of them really.
The bartender returned with their drinks, two tall glasses of light-colored liquid with a head of foam. Ilya nodded his thanks and slid some cash across the bar, including a generous tip. “Stimmt so,” he said, and the bartender murmured his thanks.
Ilya turned away and scouted for a table for him and Shane. The long wooden tables and benches were fairly full, but off to one side were a few small standing tables, the tall ones with little round tops. He steered Shane that way and parked them at the table furthest from the main part of the beer garden.
“Prost,” Ilya said and tapped his glass against Shane's.
Shane repeated the word with fairly successful pronunciation and took an exploratory sip of his drink. He looked at Ilya, quizzical – but not disgusted. That was good, since the choice of drink had been a bit of a gamble. Shane took another sip, then asked, “What is this?”
“Radler,” Ilya said. “Strange mixture invented by Germans. But weirdly, it tastes pretty good. Beer together with lemon soda.” He waved a hand between himself and Shane. “Is like a perfect mix of you and me. Alcohol for me and too-sweet soft drink for you.”
Shane rolled his eyes, but that fond smile was quirking up the edge of his mouth again. “You think the weirdest things,” he informed Ilya.
“Mm. You like it.” Then Ilya lifted his chin in the direction of Shane's drink. “And you like this?”
Shane tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, I think so. The flavor is kind of unexpected, but it's refreshing.”
Ilya nodded and took a pull of his own drink, quietly pleased. Everything he had introduced Shane to in Berlin so far, Shane had liked.
Which meant he couldn't help pushing a little further. He waved the arm that wasn't holding his Radler and asked, “So, you like my garden?”
Now Shane laughed outright. “Your garden? This massive city park is your garden?”
“Mm, yes, I think I'll claim it as mine for today. Since we are here and we are surely enjoying it more than any of these other people. Tiergarten, you know, means 'park of animals'. It was a hunting place for the royalty in the palace, but I think drinking beer with my very gorgeous boyfriend is a much better use of a pretty green space on a nice day.”
“'Jardin aux animaux',” Shane murmured to himself, as if all other languages made more sense to him if they were first filtered through French.
Ilya's heart squeezed with how much he loved this weird, beautiful man. He set his drink down on the table and curled one hand around the back of Shane's neck to pull him close. As he did, he felt the tiny flinch, before Shane's body remembered that they could do this now, be close to each other in public; they no longer had to keep their relationship a secret.
“We no longer have to hide, moya lyubov,” Ilya murmured, his face already very close to Shane's.
“I know,” Shane whispered, pressing his lips to Ilya's. “I know.”
Ilya took possession of Shane's face, gripping one hand under his chin to pull him even closer, because sometimes it became suddenly urgent to have this reminder that Shane was his, all his, all his.
He could feel how Shane's body relaxed the moment he took control. Ilya pressed in and kissed him, hard and long.
“Besides,” Ilya said, when he finally let Shane go, “no need to be embarrassed in Berlin. In Berlin, everyone is gay.”
Shane snorted a laugh. “No matter what you try, you're not going to manage to convince me of that.”
“Okay,” Ilya amended. “Just all the important people in Berlin are gay.”
“And who are these important people, for example?”
“You,” Ilya told him.
Shane blushed. Ilya smirked.
“Come on, Hollander,” he said, once he felt he'd made Shane squirm enough. “Drink up your German soda-beer. We have so much still to see.”