Fedyor is always glad to see the summer solstice. Winters seems so long and never-ending, and while Fedyor is used to it (he has, after all, spent his entire life living with it), he can't deny how much he enjoys seeing summer. The days are longer, they're brighter, and everyone's moods are considerably better. And, of course, there are the festivals.
The solstice marks the end of the harsher seasons and the time for things to start growing. It has also, over years, become a time when people use it to pay favour to the saints to ask for their sun summoner to come to them. The festivals pop up all over Ravka but none are quite as grand as the one put on in Os Alta, with its many tents of performers and stalls of food or people selling their goods.
It's coincidence that on the first day of the celebration, Fedyor is off duty. He's just come home from a mission that had him at the borders of Shu Han, and the General must have been happy with the results as he generously granted the whole party a few days to recoup. How long that will last is anyone's guess, but barring a disaster, the General is unlikely to revoke his word. That suits Fedyor just fine. He's up early and wastes little time in starting to get dressed.
"You can join me, you know," he says to Ivan while he starts to pull on his trousers. "A little fun probably won't kill you."
Despite popular belief, Ivan is rather fond of summer. It's not as miserable as the cold weather, and while he's used to the cold and detests the heat, what he really appreciates is the plant life. There's something about how vibrant spring and summer get, and how the misery of the cold is a distant memory. Everything is beautiful.
It also tends to mean Fjerdans attack less, often using winter winds as cover, and Ivan is particularly fond of that, being from Chernast.
He knows Fedyor loves a good gathering, a nice bit of fun, a chance to smile and laugh and watch a show. Gatherings in general bother Ivan, mostly because he finds them pointless and a waste of security, but it makes Fedyor smile, and Fedyor smiling is what he loves almost as much as his country, if not more.
He knows what Fedyor is talking about even without context, and Ivan, dressed in only his pants, is in the middle of making them breakfast, blini causing the small apartment to smell. He'd slept well for the first time since Fedyor left, finding the other the only source of relaxation he can ever find.
"Too noisy," he grumbles, frowning. "Too many people." The moment the other comes remotely close to him he'll greet his husband with a kiss on the cheek.
Fedyor could also happily sit there and watch Ivan, half dressed and making breakfast. He enjoys their domesticity, and he enjoys that no one else has any idea that Ivan is capable of this. Together, they’ve carved out a very good life in the midst of all the wars. And, well, if it wasn’t for the wars then maybe they never would have found each other.
“You would set me loose on the streets of Os Alta, beyond the walls of the Little Palace?”
He moves to Ivan and pulls on his shirt, then tries to turn his head in time to catch a fleeting kiss.
"I would set you loose to make everyone at the carnival smile," Ivan says simply, and maybe it's a little cheesy, but he feels like it's a natural thing to say to Fedyor as the other steals a kiss and causes him to grin.
He flips the small pancake easily, and, after a few moments of silence, grumbles.
"I'll go."
He dislikes large crowds and lots of noise, but it's been a while since he and Fedyor have gone on a proper date.
"But we're stopping at Mayakovsky's restaurant for kvas. And you're buying, hmm?"
Fedyor smiles contentedly as Ivan agrees to go. He hadn't planned on pushing the matter beyond his little tease. Fedyor accepted long ago that Ivan sees festivities as largely frivolous affairs and he takes care to respect that, only teasing to the point where he knows it won't be too much. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Either way is just fine by Fedyor.
So he's pleased that Ivan wants to join him. Fedyor suspects it's likely only due to the fact that they've been apart a few weeks now, and while they'll probably leave early, an hour or two together is better than the full day at the festival alone.
"Naturally," he agrees. Nevermind that the majority of their money is shared between the two of them. "If only because you bought the last time."
Ivan likes this, the push and pull, the give and take--it's never mean spirited, never rude. It's simply them, two halves of one whole, perfectly complimentary. It's why they're both of similar rank. It's why they're both heartrenders.
It's why they're married, he thinks, and once again he's reminded how lucky he is. It makes his upper lip quirk into the smallest of smiles, and when he looks at Fedyor he looks at him like he's the sun. A small moment where his guard is fully let down before they step through the door and the walls inevitably come back up.
"Why do you like this festival so much, hmm?" He has an inkling, he just wants to hear him talk.
Fedyor leans against the counter, out of the way while still being close. He never tires of being close to Ivan. They’re fortunate enough that the General sends them together when he can, but there are enough times during the year where they’re apart that Fedyor can justify wanting to be as near as possible when he can.
“It’s nice, don’t you think? Something different, seeing people forget their worries for a day. It’s good to be reminded what we’re doing all of this for.”
Fedyor isn't wrong. Ivan knows that, but it doesn't mean he's no less anxious. It's the anticipation that usually gets him--he can handle a field better than almost anyone, perfect under pressure and under fire, but the thought of wading into throngs of people excites him just as much as going to a fancy fete. He dislikes it, opting usually to just stand in a quiet part or wait until Fedyor drags him around by the arm.
He'll never admit it in public, but he does love when his husband lures him into having a little bit of fun. It makes it a bit more justifiable, why he's wasting his time when he has the constant threat of Fjerda and Shu-Han to think about.
The last blini is done, and he already has the sour cream and jam on the table for each of them, respectively. He nods for the other to pour them drinks as he moves the food to the table proper.
"It's only nice if you're there," he says firmly, resolutely. "There's so much I could be doing for Ravka and her war efforts."
Fedyor takes the cezve from the heat and gives the coffee inside a stir. It’s a luxury, most mornings Fedyor will brew them a pot of strong tea, but the coffee is a nice treat now and again. Besides, why not indulge while they eat breakfast together rather than with their colleagues?
“So much to do for Ravka,” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “and yet here you are, preparing blini.”
Fedyor passes a hand along Ivan’s back, pressing another kiss to his husband’s cheek before pouring out the coffee.
“If you’re not careful, Ravka will discover you’ve been married to me and not her this entire time.”
Ivan shoots Fedyor a look at the Ravka comment, though it's anything but rueful or upset. Ivan knows that Fedyor loves to tease and contrary to popular belief, Ivan isn't entirely humourless. Not while that smile is tugging up the corners of his husband's mouth.
Saints, he's lucky.
"I have to make sure the love of my life is eating more than sweets while he daydreams," he teases back, and there's a smile on his face as he takes a seat. He moves the jam so it's closer to Fedyor as the other pours--coffee is a tradition with them on their first day back together after tea. A small splurge as they celebrate their reunion.
"I'm going to buy something at the market," he muses. Something to send his mother, something purposeful. A care package.
Fedyor looks over at Ivan and spreads a heavy layer of jam on his blini. He takes a bite and hums his approval.
“For mother?”
He just refers to Ivan’s mother as their mother, and has for years. And technically she is, or at least she’s his mother in law, which is just as good. It’s not as if Fedyor’s spoken to his own mother since the Grisha testers took him away.
Ivan's response is a small grunt in affirmation, mostly because he's busied himself with eating a rather healthy portion of his breakfast all at once. Not enough to be bad manners, of course, but he's always been the type to eat fast and efficiently--a habit left from when he had siblings, the brief moment in time when the humble house he grew up in had far too many Kaminsky sons running about.
"She's difficult to shop for," he laments, though it's more than he has trouble trying to figure out what his mother wants rather than what he finds is practical. His language of love when he's back home is usually to just fix everything that's gone into disrepair.
"She is not," Fedyor replies, good naturedly. He, of course, understands the necessity of practicality, but he believes that gifts ought to be beautiful and thoughtful. Sometimes what someone needs is a thing to make them smile rather than a thing to make a job easier.
"You are difficult to shop for." He points the knife he's using for his jam accusingly (teasingly) at Ivan, eyebrows raised. "She will like anything you bring to her."
"I'm easy to shop for," Ivan bites back, though there's absolutely no venom in his voice as he looks at Fedyor as if slighted. "You're easy to shop for. I can find many things that will make you smile, but her?" A shrug.
"You're her favourite." He likes that Fedyor is, if he's being honest--it means he's been accepted. Still, his brow furrows.
"Maybe candy. If you don't eat it before we send it, hmmm?"
"I'm everyone's favourite." Which is not exactly a lie, but only because most people they come across view Ivan as stern and humourless, which is just how Ivan likes it. But Fedyor doubts that Ivan's mother likes him more than her own son - especially since Ivan's siblings are long since gone thanks to the war.
He's about to say as much, but instead he puts on an affronted look as Ivan makes his remark.
"You accuse me before I've even committed the action."
"I know your type," Ivan states thinly, even if there's the tiniest of smiles on his face. For Ivan, it may as well be a grin. He's been stoic the entire conversation, voice serious and firm, but absolutely speaking with the utmost affection, comfortable and aware of the fact that his husband is probably the only one that knows when Ivan is joking, for the most part. He takes a sip of coffee, sighing, completely content.
"The Little Palace is going to burn while we're away." Only a slight amount of worry, brow furrowing as he thinks.
Ivan does smile at that, gaze soft as he slides his hand into Fedyor's, holding it lightly as they eat. He's almost relaxed in posture--almost, as much as his default will allow--as he squeezes the other's hand softly.
"It will be fun," he agrees, if somewhat reluctantly. He does believe that it'll be fun: he has the man he loves by his side, so it's bound to be an adventure. He sips his coffee, draining his glass, starting to finish up his breakfast.
"You'll be there," he finishes, and once he's fully done he'll stand up from their little table, already beginning the clean up, fastidious and particular.
Fedyor looks pleased, because Ivan's right. It will be fun, even if Ivan isn't going to admit it. He finishes up his too-jammy blini and stands to help clean up as well, making sure to tug Ivan into a kiss when they cross each other's paths.
"Though if you want to stay in ..." He says, playing coy for only a moment before a grin replaces the smirk he'd put on. Not that a morning inside with Ivan isn't desirable, it's just that festivals don't come around often.
Ravka's a small country, though a proud one. Ivan has been told on multiple occasions that he is the epitome of the Ravkan way, with his hard work and no-nonsense approach and practicality. He's not sure if he believes it--it makes him vastly uncomfortable--but having people muse upon who he is and what his ideals are is an unfortunate but necessary evil.
Mostly, Ivan likes to travel his beloved country doing what he loves: he loves football, enough to become a professional one, playing for the Ravkan Heartrenders. The only thing he thinks he loves more than his job and what he does is his husband who still manages to love him despite being his far better half.
Ravka really is a great place, but he can't help but feel a little homesick, even though his teammates are all perfectly fine gentlemen. They're the company he always keeps, the company he loves, but not his husband. Not by a mile.
Fedyor just has an affect on him, he guesses.
Ivan sends a text to Fedyor, quick and easy as he heads out, fresh out of a shower: Finished practice. Beer with lads. xx Ivan's heart isn't in it, but if he stays in his hotel room he's just going to mope instead of do anything productive. Not that drinking is productive, he does have a gave against the Dca Stolba Durasts tomorrow--but his teammates are just about the only people he can stand.
People say that they're an odd couple. Fedyor is cheerful and chatty and instantly likeable, while Ivan is stoic and disciplined and doesn't bother with anything he deems frivolous. Fedyor can see how people might think they don't match each other well, but people simply don't know them as well as they think.
For example, Ivan is romantic, and sweet underneath that stern exterior. And Fedyor knows how to be just as disciplined - he wouldn't have become a doctor if he didn't know how to commit himself to something. He loves his work, and he takes it seriously, which means there are often times that he and Ivan don't get to see each other for weeks at a time. Ivan's off travelling and Fedyor's stuck in the hospital. But they make it work even when it's hard to be apart.
But that isn't the case now. Fedyor had had to work. It just so happened that the procedure had gone much better than anticipated, and thus much quicker, so he'd figured ... What the hell? He loves to see Ivan play, anyway, and a small vacation is always nice.
Have fun :)
Fedyor shoots the text back then makes his way to the pub. It's the same one Ivan always goes to when he's here, because Ivan is a man of consistency (one of the things Fedyor loves about him). It's easy enough to spot Ivan through the bit of the crowd that's starting to show up for their nightly drinks. Fedyor sits on the stool next to Ivan.
Ivan knows what he likes, and what he likes is a nice pint where no one bothers him. He's a creature of habit, a particular sort of fellow, and every time they're in Dva Stolba he heads to the little pub just out of a tourist's reach. He's famous at an odd sort of level--football fans know him instantly, no one else really does--so he can find relative peace this way.
He's not expecting to hear a voice as someone moves to the stool--rudely close to him in a mostly empty bar--and he's certainly not expecting his husband.
Ivan stands up even though Fedyor's just sat down, surprise loosening his usually hardened features, jaw unclenching as his lips curl up into a pleased, almost excited smile. His face is usually fairly stoic, but for Fedyor, he smiles like he's just seen the sun for the very first time.
"I was lonely," he states simply, and without further ado he leans down to sweep Fedyor into his arms in an uncharacteristic display of public affection.
"You had a surgery." And yet, here his husband is. Ivan feels giddy.
It had been an ordeal, to put it mildly--a two week long tracking expedition, offered to him by the General for both his loyalty and his home villages' proximity to where the bear might be wandering. He's the General's most loyal soldier, his right-hand man, his guardian. His other half the general's most intelligent soldier, his spymaster, his watcher. A perfect pair.
And soon, Ivan knows, Fedyor will get his--an amplifier, a special trinket only for them. He keeps his bear claws on a necklace, tucked safely in his kefta. The General had given him leave, dismissing him with a small nod and a soft 'that will be all.' No speech, no grand gestures other than the his gift. Ivan likes it that way.
He follows his others heartbeat without really concentrating, the two of them almost always in sync. He hasn't changed his kefta, hasn't used the bathhouse, and though he'd gotten injured it was nothing he couldn't patch up himself before the Healer they took with them had her way. He just wants to see his love.
"Fedyor." He's tired but he stands proud, a rare smile across his face both from his accomplishments and because the moment he opens the door to their shared room he sees the other's face immediately. He doesn't have to say 'I'm home,' he simply moves forward to embrace the other, door open, uncaring. All that matters is his partner.
It's always hard being away from one another. But for as much as Fedyor misses Ivan, he's proud of him. If any of them deserve an amplifier, it's Ivan, and Fedyor gets more happiness out of celebrating his partner's successes than his own. Still, he starts to feel the days dragging on as it closes in on two weeks. He thinks he'd know, somehow, if anything had happened to Ivan. Even with the separation he's certain there's something there that connects them. So long as he feels Ivan is alive and well, there's nothing to do other than wait.
And wait he does. He devotes his time to doing some training with younger Grisha as well as to his own diplomatic interests and ventures. He's studying the latest political news from Shu-Han when he hears Ivan coming down the hall. Not his footsteps, not at first, but his heart. His lungs working. The way both their pulses pick up just slightly at the prospect of seeing one another. Fedyor's up and almost at the door by the time Ivan opens it up.
"My strong beast slayer returns at last."
His arms slip around the other man, beaming a bright smile as he takes in Ivan's tired face.
Ivan's small smile widens, bashful and pleased at Fedyor's attention. He likes it, he'll always like it, he thinks its somewhat of an addiction: Fedyor's strong jaw, his matching heartbeat, that charming old Ravkan accent that Ivan only has a little of.
He pulls the other into a hug, arms tired but strong enough for a proper hold on the shorter man, and he kisses the top of Fedyor's head.
"Of course lapushka," he pulls away only to take the other's face in his hands, framing that smile as he looks down at him.
"But first; kvass and let me greet you properly, hmm?"
Maybe Fedyor's just a romantic, but he feels, in moments like this, that he falls in love all over again. It used to bother him that people couldn't understand what he sees in Ivan. To bystanders, it's easy to assume they're just too different to find any common ground. Now, it amuses Fedyor that no one will ever know how kind Ivan can be under all the frowning.
It's for the better, anyway. If people started to realize Ivan had his own romantic side, Fedyor would have to fight people off.
"Or kvass and some sleep, hmm?"
He can tell Ivan is weary from the expedition, and he starts to undo Ivan's kefta so he can start to check for any signs of injury. Fedyor's no trained healer, but he'd been an excellent student in basics before he made his choice, and as long as Ivan isn't suffering anything major then Fedyor is confident he can take care of it himself.
"If you're near there will be no sleep," Ivan promises. He may be dog tired but he's never tired enough to not show how much he loves his partner. Especially after weeks not seeing him.
They're alone and comfortable and Fedyor is already picking at Ivan's kefta. Ivan lets him, though before he pulls the entire thing off he leans down and gives the other a kiss the moment his face is near, gently locking lips. He holds it, hand moving up to Fedyor's face, taking his time, drinking in his lover's heartbeat before pulling away and the other gingerly peels the kefta coat off.
"Near the Fjerdan border," he says proudly as the necklace comes into display, three bear claws on a leather trap, fused. Ivan's beaming.
"I will make you sleep," he teases. It wouldn't be the first time he's lulled Ivan to sleep with his abilities. Ivan did it to him, too, and they were both aware when it was happening and why it was happening. Neither could really hold ill-will against the other when doing it.
Fedyor is happy to let the kiss linger. He's missed Ivan, after all, and he isn't one to complain when Ivan's in a particularly affectionate mood. Without the kefta in the way, it's easier for Fedyor to pin-point hurt muscles and small scrapes which he can delicately heal away.
"I bet he was no match for you."
Really, Fedyor imagines it must have been thrilling to watch. He knows it must have been, because while Ivan takes pride in his work, he has a staunch humility about it that keeps him from becoming arrogant like other powerful Grisha. But Fedyor can see that Ivan feels this pride has been earned, so, therefore, it must have been a good fight.
Fedyor heals him, and while he will never mentally feel fresh--not fully--he feels the other effects: the warmth, his sore muscles being soothed, cuts melting warmly away. Ivan takes solace in the little ritual, the soft moment between the two of them.
Fedyor is happy for him, proud of him, and Ivan places both hands on the other's hips as he sits, large hands lingering as he looks up at the other. Kvass, yes, but he wants his lover's attention for just a fraction of a second longer now.
"I suggested you get one," he says softly, voice low. He's referring to the amplifier.
He's more than content to stay there, draping his arms over Ivan's shoulder as he leans into the other man while he sits.
"I would hate to become too powerful."
There's an amused, joking smile on his face. Of course Fedyor would like one. Every Grisha would like to have an amplifier, but Fedyor's ambition drives him down other paths than those Grisha looking to simply be powerful. Ivan's long since earned his, Fedyor feels. He's proven himself over and over, and the General keeps Ivan too close to have him not be amplified. Fedyor, though, feels that despite having proven his own worth over time, he doesn't quite fit into the inner circle yet. The General has little patience for his good humour. Fedyor isn't bothered by it.
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The solstice marks the end of the harsher seasons and the time for things to start growing. It has also, over years, become a time when people use it to pay favour to the saints to ask for their sun summoner to come to them. The festivals pop up all over Ravka but none are quite as grand as the one put on in Os Alta, with its many tents of performers and stalls of food or people selling their goods.
It's coincidence that on the first day of the celebration, Fedyor is off duty. He's just come home from a mission that had him at the borders of Shu Han, and the General must have been happy with the results as he generously granted the whole party a few days to recoup. How long that will last is anyone's guess, but barring a disaster, the General is unlikely to revoke his word. That suits Fedyor just fine. He's up early and wastes little time in starting to get dressed.
"You can join me, you know," he says to Ivan while he starts to pull on his trousers. "A little fun probably won't kill you."
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It also tends to mean Fjerdans attack less, often using winter winds as cover, and Ivan is particularly fond of that, being from Chernast.
He knows Fedyor loves a good gathering, a nice bit of fun, a chance to smile and laugh and watch a show. Gatherings in general bother Ivan, mostly because he finds them pointless and a waste of security, but it makes Fedyor smile, and Fedyor smiling is what he loves almost as much as his country, if not more.
He knows what Fedyor is talking about even without context, and Ivan, dressed in only his pants, is in the middle of making them breakfast, blini causing the small apartment to smell. He'd slept well for the first time since Fedyor left, finding the other the only source of relaxation he can ever find.
"Too noisy," he grumbles, frowning. "Too many people." The moment the other comes remotely close to him he'll greet his husband with a kiss on the cheek.
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“You would set me loose on the streets of Os Alta, beyond the walls of the Little Palace?”
He moves to Ivan and pulls on his shirt, then tries to turn his head in time to catch a fleeting kiss.
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He flips the small pancake easily, and, after a few moments of silence, grumbles.
"I'll go."
He dislikes large crowds and lots of noise, but it's been a while since he and Fedyor have gone on a proper date.
"But we're stopping at Mayakovsky's restaurant for kvas. And you're buying, hmm?"
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Fedyor smiles contentedly as Ivan agrees to go. He hadn't planned on pushing the matter beyond his little tease. Fedyor accepted long ago that Ivan sees festivities as largely frivolous affairs and he takes care to respect that, only teasing to the point where he knows it won't be too much. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Either way is just fine by Fedyor.
So he's pleased that Ivan wants to join him. Fedyor suspects it's likely only due to the fact that they've been apart a few weeks now, and while they'll probably leave early, an hour or two together is better than the full day at the festival alone.
"Naturally," he agrees. Nevermind that the majority of their money is shared between the two of them. "If only because you bought the last time."
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It's why they're married, he thinks, and once again he's reminded how lucky he is. It makes his upper lip quirk into the smallest of smiles, and when he looks at Fedyor he looks at him like he's the sun. A small moment where his guard is fully let down before they step through the door and the walls inevitably come back up.
"Why do you like this festival so much, hmm?" He has an inkling, he just wants to hear him talk.
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Fedyor leans against the counter, out of the way while still being close. He never tires of being close to Ivan. They’re fortunate enough that the General sends them together when he can, but there are enough times during the year where they’re apart that Fedyor can justify wanting to be as near as possible when he can.
“It’s nice, don’t you think? Something different, seeing people forget their worries for a day. It’s good to be reminded what we’re doing all of this for.”
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He'll never admit it in public, but he does love when his husband lures him into having a little bit of fun. It makes it a bit more justifiable, why he's wasting his time when he has the constant threat of Fjerda and Shu-Han to think about.
The last blini is done, and he already has the sour cream and jam on the table for each of them, respectively. He nods for the other to pour them drinks as he moves the food to the table proper.
"It's only nice if you're there," he says firmly, resolutely. "There's so much I could be doing for Ravka and her war efforts."
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“So much to do for Ravka,” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “and yet here you are, preparing blini.”
Fedyor passes a hand along Ivan’s back, pressing another kiss to his husband’s cheek before pouring out the coffee.
“If you’re not careful, Ravka will discover you’ve been married to me and not her this entire time.”
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Saints, he's lucky.
"I have to make sure the love of my life is eating more than sweets while he daydreams," he teases back, and there's a smile on his face as he takes a seat. He moves the jam so it's closer to Fedyor as the other pours--coffee is a tradition with them on their first day back together after tea. A small splurge as they celebrate their reunion.
"I'm going to buy something at the market," he muses. Something to send his mother, something purposeful. A care package.
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Fedyor looks over at Ivan and spreads a heavy layer of jam on his blini. He takes a bite and hums his approval.
“For mother?”
He just refers to Ivan’s mother as their mother, and has for years. And technically she is, or at least she’s his mother in law, which is just as good. It’s not as if Fedyor’s spoken to his own mother since the Grisha testers took him away.
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"She's difficult to shop for," he laments, though it's more than he has trouble trying to figure out what his mother wants rather than what he finds is practical. His language of love when he's back home is usually to just fix everything that's gone into disrepair.
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"You are difficult to shop for." He points the knife he's using for his jam accusingly (teasingly) at Ivan, eyebrows raised. "She will like anything you bring to her."
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"You're her favourite." He likes that Fedyor is, if he's being honest--it means he's been accepted. Still, his brow furrows.
"Maybe candy. If you don't eat it before we send it, hmmm?"
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"I'm everyone's favourite." Which is not exactly a lie, but only because most people they come across view Ivan as stern and humourless, which is just how Ivan likes it. But Fedyor doubts that Ivan's mother likes him more than her own son - especially since Ivan's siblings are long since gone thanks to the war.
He's about to say as much, but instead he puts on an affronted look as Ivan makes his remark.
"You accuse me before I've even committed the action."
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"The Little Palace is going to burn while we're away." Only a slight amount of worry, brow furrowing as he thinks.
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All the same, Fedyor reaches across the table to brush his fingers across Ivan's hand, ghosting his fingers along his husband's amplifier.
"We will buy your mother some candy. I promise not to eat it."
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"It will be fun," he agrees, if somewhat reluctantly. He does believe that it'll be fun: he has the man he loves by his side, so it's bound to be an adventure. He sips his coffee, draining his glass, starting to finish up his breakfast.
"You'll be there," he finishes, and once he's fully done he'll stand up from their little table, already beginning the clean up, fastidious and particular.
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"Though if you want to stay in ..." He says, playing coy for only a moment before a grin replaces the smirk he'd put on. Not that a morning inside with Ivan isn't desirable, it's just that festivals don't come around often.
"I will grab our keftas."
modern time baybee
Mostly, Ivan likes to travel his beloved country doing what he loves: he loves football, enough to become a professional one, playing for the Ravkan Heartrenders. The only thing he thinks he loves more than his job and what he does is his husband who still manages to love him despite being his far better half.
Ravka really is a great place, but he can't help but feel a little homesick, even though his teammates are all perfectly fine gentlemen. They're the company he always keeps, the company he loves, but not his husband. Not by a mile.
Fedyor just has an affect on him, he guesses.
Ivan sends a text to Fedyor, quick and easy as he heads out, fresh out of a shower: Finished practice. Beer with lads. xx Ivan's heart isn't in it, but if he stays in his hotel room he's just going to mope instead of do anything productive. Not that drinking is productive, he does have a gave against the Dca Stolba Durasts tomorrow--but his teammates are just about the only people he can stand.
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For example, Ivan is romantic, and sweet underneath that stern exterior. And Fedyor knows how to be just as disciplined - he wouldn't have become a doctor if he didn't know how to commit himself to something. He loves his work, and he takes it seriously, which means there are often times that he and Ivan don't get to see each other for weeks at a time. Ivan's off travelling and Fedyor's stuck in the hospital. But they make it work even when it's hard to be apart.
But that isn't the case now. Fedyor had had to work. It just so happened that the procedure had gone much better than anticipated, and thus much quicker, so he'd figured ... What the hell? He loves to see Ivan play, anyway, and a small vacation is always nice.
Have fun :)
Fedyor shoots the text back then makes his way to the pub. It's the same one Ivan always goes to when he's here, because Ivan is a man of consistency (one of the things Fedyor loves about him). It's easy enough to spot Ivan through the bit of the crowd that's starting to show up for their nightly drinks. Fedyor sits on the stool next to Ivan.
"You seem lonely. Can I buy you a drink?"
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He's not expecting to hear a voice as someone moves to the stool--rudely close to him in a mostly empty bar--and he's certainly not expecting his husband.
Ivan stands up even though Fedyor's just sat down, surprise loosening his usually hardened features, jaw unclenching as his lips curl up into a pleased, almost excited smile. His face is usually fairly stoic, but for Fedyor, he smiles like he's just seen the sun for the very first time.
"I was lonely," he states simply, and without further ado he leans down to sweep Fedyor into his arms in an uncharacteristic display of public affection.
"You had a surgery." And yet, here his husband is. Ivan feels giddy.
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"Yes, and it was far less complicated than we anticipated. I figured you wouldn't mind if I used my sudden free time to come bother you."
An amplifier;
It had been an ordeal, to put it mildly--a two week long tracking expedition, offered to him by the General for both his loyalty and his home villages' proximity to where the bear might be wandering. He's the General's most loyal soldier, his right-hand man, his guardian. His other half the general's most intelligent soldier, his spymaster, his watcher. A perfect pair.
And soon, Ivan knows, Fedyor will get his--an amplifier, a special trinket only for them. He keeps his bear claws on a necklace, tucked safely in his kefta. The General had given him leave, dismissing him with a small nod and a soft 'that will be all.' No speech, no grand gestures other than the his gift. Ivan likes it that way.
He follows his others heartbeat without really concentrating, the two of them almost always in sync. He hasn't changed his kefta, hasn't used the bathhouse, and though he'd gotten injured it was nothing he couldn't patch up himself before the Healer they took with them had her way. He just wants to see his love.
"Fedyor." He's tired but he stands proud, a rare smile across his face both from his accomplishments and because the moment he opens the door to their shared room he sees the other's face immediately. He doesn't have to say 'I'm home,' he simply moves forward to embrace the other, door open, uncaring. All that matters is his partner.
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And wait he does. He devotes his time to doing some training with younger Grisha as well as to his own diplomatic interests and ventures. He's studying the latest political news from Shu-Han when he hears Ivan coming down the hall. Not his footsteps, not at first, but his heart. His lungs working. The way both their pulses pick up just slightly at the prospect of seeing one another. Fedyor's up and almost at the door by the time Ivan opens it up.
"My strong beast slayer returns at last."
His arms slip around the other man, beaming a bright smile as he takes in Ivan's tired face.
"Do I get to see them?"
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He pulls the other into a hug, arms tired but strong enough for a proper hold on the shorter man, and he kisses the top of Fedyor's head.
"Of course lapushka," he pulls away only to take the other's face in his hands, framing that smile as he looks down at him.
"But first; kvass and let me greet you properly, hmm?"
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It's for the better, anyway. If people started to realize Ivan had his own romantic side, Fedyor would have to fight people off.
"Or kvass and some sleep, hmm?"
He can tell Ivan is weary from the expedition, and he starts to undo Ivan's kefta so he can start to check for any signs of injury. Fedyor's no trained healer, but he'd been an excellent student in basics before he made his choice, and as long as Ivan isn't suffering anything major then Fedyor is confident he can take care of it himself.
"I'll want to hear every detail, as well."
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They're alone and comfortable and Fedyor is already picking at Ivan's kefta. Ivan lets him, though before he pulls the entire thing off he leans down and gives the other a kiss the moment his face is near, gently locking lips. He holds it, hand moving up to Fedyor's face, taking his time, drinking in his lover's heartbeat before pulling away and the other gingerly peels the kefta coat off.
"Near the Fjerdan border," he says proudly as the necklace comes into display, three bear claws on a leather trap, fused. Ivan's beaming.
"A giant bear."
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Fedyor is happy to let the kiss linger. He's missed Ivan, after all, and he isn't one to complain when Ivan's in a particularly affectionate mood. Without the kefta in the way, it's easier for Fedyor to pin-point hurt muscles and small scrapes which he can delicately heal away.
"I bet he was no match for you."
Really, Fedyor imagines it must have been thrilling to watch. He knows it must have been, because while Ivan takes pride in his work, he has a staunch humility about it that keeps him from becoming arrogant like other powerful Grisha. But Fedyor can see that Ivan feels this pride has been earned, so, therefore, it must have been a good fight.
"Sit. I will get the kvass."
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Fedyor is happy for him, proud of him, and Ivan places both hands on the other's hips as he sits, large hands lingering as he looks up at the other. Kvass, yes, but he wants his lover's attention for just a fraction of a second longer now.
"I suggested you get one," he says softly, voice low. He's referring to the amplifier.
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"I would hate to become too powerful."
There's an amused, joking smile on his face. Of course Fedyor would like one. Every Grisha would like to have an amplifier, but Fedyor's ambition drives him down other paths than those Grisha looking to simply be powerful. Ivan's long since earned his, Fedyor feels. He's proven himself over and over, and the General keeps Ivan too close to have him not be amplified. Fedyor, though, feels that despite having proven his own worth over time, he doesn't quite fit into the inner circle yet. The General has little patience for his good humour. Fedyor isn't bothered by it.
"My time will come when it's due."