Work Text:
Mitya couldn’t sleep.
Not like that was anything new, but this time he was truly exhausted. He had spent the past thirty-eight hours working nonstop with intermittent ‘breaks’ where his body simply couldn’t keep up with his mind. So yes, he wanted to sleep.
Except.
Valeriy.
Everything was always about him, wasn’t it? That damn Sarge… First he’s always chasing Mitya down to work, then makes him stop working when he’s in a flow state! I mean, make up your mind already! Though, as time went, Mitya started to realize that Valeriy didn’t perform his job by the letter, but rather the spirit.
To Valeriy, being his bodyguard meant protecting him from even himself.
Mitya sighed, rolling over in bed to curl on his side, blankly staring at a cluttered wall. That was actually why he was overthinking now. Valeriy. Always Valeriy.
This time it was his hands. Strong, unwavering, calloused. Words that could be used to describe any part of Valeriy and his hands were no different. Mitya’s been at the mercy of his hands before, sure, but tonight it had just… planted itself in his mind like a parasite.
He’s been peeled off a bar floor, piss drunk by those hands. Thrown over a wide shoulder and carried very embarrassingly back to work. Steered away from oncoming traffic. Countless other things. Valeriy was more touchy than most would think, Mitya had long learned.
This time was new. This time Mitya had worked himself basically stupid, his mind and body refusing to continue any longer. Valeriy had been there, as always. Waiting, watching. Always waiting and watching.
When Mitya finally collapsed, knees weakened from standing too long, he never actually hit the floor. Valeriy had been there, had caught him and hoisted Mitya into his arms. It should have been embarrassing, and was, the first few times it happened but by now it was just routine. Valeriy had gently pried his research from his hands, set it on his desk, and carried him home.
Only after ensuring Mitya safely navigated his mess of an apartment and buried himself in bed did Valeriy bid him good night and took his leave.
Except this time Mitya could not stop thinking about how Valeriy’s hands had been unusually gloveless. How warm they had been anyway, tucked under his knees and supporting his back. Valeriy always ran hot. Mitya had assumed it was because of the uniform but now he was rethinking that.
His touch felt like fire, warming Mitya despite his exhaustion and the Snezhnayan weather. He missed it. His house was warmed by a fire in the fireplace and three thick blankets were tucked around him yet he was still cold.
He missed Valeriy’s touch.
Another hour of restless thoughts passed before Mitya made a decision. He sat up, shivering violently at the burst of cold air, and grabbed his coat. He was still in his pajamas but he didn’t care. His scarf wrapped around him, sensing his intentions. He pat the soft fabric, silently thanking it for the added warmth.
He slipped on his usual boots and caught a glimpse of himself as he headed towards his front door. He paused, blinking a few times.
His hair was a mess, deflated and dull. He had deep, sunken eye-bags and his face was pale. He was dressed… well, rather silly, to be frank. After a moment of deliberation he grabbed a blanket and wrapped himself in that as well as he finally left his house and hustled back to Glupov. Well, near Glupov. Major’s didn’t have to live where work was, apparently.
In a effort to be out of the snow, Mitya made it to Valeriy’s home in record time. He knocked on the door. Three sharp raps. A pause. Three more.
The door opened and a ruffled Valeriy appeared. He clearly just woke up — from real sleep, not that fake nap shit he does — but upon seeing Mitya the sleepiness vanishes.
“Mitya? What’s wrong?” He asked urgently, glancing around like he was expecting an armed battalion on his ass.
“I-“
The words stopped in his throat. What should he say? I can’t sleep, I wanna cuddle? I’ve been thinking about your hands and want you to touch me again? Yeah that’s sure to send Valeriy running for the hills.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he lands on awkwardly.
Valeriy blinks. Once, twice, then gives one last look over the street before opening his door further. Mitya gratefully steps inside. He removes his boots as Valeriy moves further inside to the kitchen. Presumably to put tea on. Mitya liked tea. With a bit of milk. He shuffled after when his boots were off, sitting at the counter.
Both of them were silent while the tea brews and when Valeriy pours two cups, he tips a bit of milk into one. Sliding Mitya one mug, Valeriy takes the other and sits beside him, silently waiting for Mitya to speak.
Mitya takes a sip, staring into the liquid.
“I can’t sleep,” he says again, a little quieter.
“You said,” Valeriy responds.
“It’s your fault,” Mitya continues.
“Mm,” was the only response.
“Hold out your hand.” An abrupt turn.
That catches Valeriy off guard, though he barely shows it. Mitya only looks up at him expectantly. Valeriy meets his eyes, seemingly searching for something, before slowly complying. He extends his hand out palm up and flat.
Gently, Mitya lightly touches the back with the tips of his fingers and guides his hand so it’s facing him, fingers skyward. After a brief hesitation, Mitya holds his own hand out. He places it against Valeriy’s, shivering at the warmth that spreads up his elbow. He lines them up by heel to heel, swallowing thickly at the sight.
Valeriy’s hands are huge. Thicker, wider and longer than Mitya’s. He could probably curl his fingertips like a paw and Mitya’s hands would still be straight. Archons.
He met Valeriy’s burning gaze, which hadn’t left his face the entire time.
“I can’t sleep,” he repeats once more, faintly thinking he sounds like a broken record.
“We should fix that,” Valeriy responds, pushing his mug aside and standing. He holds out his other hand, not moving the one currently pressed against Mitya’s. Offering it.
Mitya takes it. Doesn’t even cross his mind not to. Valeriy guides him back, fingers lacing together so their hands don’t separate. Mitya goes with easily, his blanket falling off his shoulders to the floor.
They find themselves in Valeriy’s bedroom, lying down face to face. Between them are their hands, Mitya’s cupped between Valeriy’s. Warm. He’s warm, he realizes. The thought it distant, thick, underwater. His eyes are so heavy, he thinks.
A slight shift of the mattress and oh. He’s even warmer.
Mitya couldn’t stay awake any longer.