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Once upon a time there was a smol fox. And that smol fox was made of sadness (on the inside, in the hidden bits of the foxsoul) because the fox did not have an Vasha.
And then a fox got a big Vasha. As a treat. And the fox was happy. And sometimes -- just sometimes -- the fox snuck up on Vasha when he fell asleep on the couch, and hopped up on his chest with her little fox paws, and then stuck her cold little black nose in his ear.
To sniff.
It is not a treat.
Years out in the cold have taught him how to sleep just about anywhere, and often with a helmet for a pillow. Now, he's got a couch. And a bed if he wants one! Luxurious. He'd fallen asleep doing English grammar lessons on his computer. Or after doing them, perhaps. (97/100!) And he probably just decided to rest his eyes for a bit. As one does. But the fox nuzzling his ear makes him mumble in his sleep and roll over onto his side, wrapping both arms around the fox on his chest like she's a pillow. Squish.
Oh nooooo! This has backfired! Now a fox is captured! Help! Help!
Oh, wait. No, actually, this is nice.
Fox starts to struggle, flailing around in Vasha's grip, until the fox realizes that she's not captured, she's snuggled. And so after about five seconds of flailing, she settles down, and shoves her head underneath his chin, tucking that cold black nose against the side of his neck. Little soft gekkering sounds. Yes, okay. This is good.
The fussing and squirming does more to wake him than the nose in the ear did. He mumbles some more and sucks in a deep breath, stretching an arm up high over his head before flopping it back down over the gekkering little furball. His eyes eventually roll open and he peers down at the upside down furry face of the fox and lets out an amused sigh. "Bored, are you?" The question is asked in Russian, of course. "Not enough things in the world to play with, you had to come bother me?" His complaining is half-hearted at best.
The little body becomes a larger body with something like a full-body yawn, her soul sliding back and forth between fox and human like a light with a dimmer switch. The eyes and the teeth are always basically the same these days. She could hide them, but by default, doesn't. And so he's got his arms around a small woman, instead, who shoves her nose back into his throat, even though it's not small or black anymore, it's still cold. "Wah wah wah, oh, I'm Vasha, I'm a grumpy Ukrainian, I'm complaining about getting more snuggles, when I have been deprived for many years," Fox mock-whines. "Oh no, it's terrible, someone bring me a track suit and some vodka, I wish to squat about my feelings."
"That is why I love you, Red. You understand me so well." Vasha musses up her already no doubt thoroughly mussy hair with his fingers, then begins to separate it some of it out against his chest so that he can begin braiding it absentmindedly. A little something for his fingers to do while he wakes up and is snuggled. "You may mock the slav squat as you wish. But at least it's isometric exercise. We are a people with strong calves and toned thighs." He raises his leg indicatively, then gives it a flex, toe pointed. "Look at that definition. I am a statue! A hairy, fat statue. But a statue."
Fox's hair is always a mess, by default, but not knotted up: she combs it! She's a wild woman, not a heathen. Fox scoots up and sprawls herself across his chest, settled in comfortably. "I do understand you. I understand you to infinity," she declares, stretching her back lazily and then settling in once more. There. Now she's really settled. "I will mock the slav squat. I will mock it every day, because gentle mockery is one of your love languages." And then he flexes his leg and she snorts, eyeing it. "It is in fact an optimally-performing leg. Attached to a person who should not make fun of his body, or it will make me very grumpy." She lets out a sigh. "Oh, I found someone who can get you paperwork, but he's sort of -- busy? Right now? Because I guess something is blowing up in the land of the Changelings, metaphorically. So I have his phone number but I don't think Mearcstapa has time to meet you right now."
"Oh, it's no trouble. I'm sure The FSB will be patient about having me killed." Vasily's humor is so terribly, terribly dark. "But it's probably for the best anyway. I have to go back on assignment shortly. Hopefully not for terribly long. A day or two. I have a lead on an informant about all of this rat host nonsense. So I am going to go and meet with him and ask him some questions very politely. He wasn't terribly difficult to flush out, either. I'm guessing there will be others at our little meet up, so." So Vasily will not be Vasily when Vasily goes to visit this person, apparently. "I will get a message to you when it's over."
"Yeah, well. Someone did try to kill Lux. With iron. Which is poisonous to Changelings. So Mearcstapa is taking care of that right now. The potential threat to your life is noted, and the actual active threat to Lux's is dealt with, my heart." Fox lifts her head up, gives him sort of a wobbly-mouthed smile for his dark humor, and then the rest of it settles in, and her eyes get wide. Then she shoves her face back into his chest, and a tiny little tight voice which is definitely Fox's but very small says, "Okay."
"It is?" Noted. "Well, if they have a spree killer trying to murder them at the moment, that does seem slightly more pressing than Boris trying to slip polonium into my coffee. Sounds like they have it sorted, though, to hear you tell it." Vasily then lets out a ragged sigh as she becomes tiny and upset at what he has to say. "Do not be like this, Fox. It is for a day. Maybe two days. Maaaaybe three days. A local job for a local problem. And a way for me to get in good with the Caucus. I do this job well, and they'll trust me more. I'm not even good with spirits, and I can't fire prime laced rounds. So I'm only going to gather information and maybe shake down an informant. I'm not going into deep cover again-- and I don't think anyone here would put that trust in me even if I wanted to."
"Well, it's being dealt with, anyway. I fixed up their knives and they're ... being careful. And their people are working on it. I need to see if I can find someone with Death who can help them." Fox's face stays stuffed into his chest, and she's hiding. "I know, I know," comes that small, thin voice that's muffled in the expansive hairy plain of Vasha's chest. "I know. But I'm allowed to have a feeling about it," she mumbles. "Would you rather I was like 'oh that's totally fine and I won't miss you at all and I won't even be a little sad'?" Sniffle.
"Yes, a little," Vasha admits. "It never did me any good to know you were hurting in my absence. I often wondered what you might be up to, what new discoveries you were making, if everyone was well and happy. But the thought never once crossed my mind 'I sure hope everyone is missing me terribly and pained for my absence'. That would be an awful thing to wish on others, especially those you love." He combs the hair back from her face with his finger, then drops the little braided bit down in front of her eyes with an impish grin. "However. If you want to fuck me like it's the last time you'll see me for several years, I won't complain too loudly. As long as the chaffing is kept to a minimum."
"I used to be better about it," Fox points out quietly, "And I'll be better about it again. But I'm allowed to be afraid and sad and scared a little bit in my heart the first time that you go away after just coming back." She lifts her head from his chest, then, and sniffles. "Then you are a better person than me, because I want you to miss me. Missing is an experience, too." She rubs the back of her hand across her bright green eyes, and laughs softly, leaning forward to press her mouth to his. The kiss ends with her sharp little teeth tugging on his lower lip, and when she releases it, she murmurs, "I'm a Life Master. What's chafing, my heart?"
"And I'm a Time Adept. I'll show you." Vasily wags his bushy eyebrows at her before chasing her lips to reclaim the kiss she'd just broken.
Some span of time later, after the tipping over of a few unimportant pieces of furniture, Vasily is splayed out on the floor next to his unplugged laptop charger and, as it happens, the remote to the television set. Which he can now see under the coffee table. He slides it out while catching his breath and remarks, like the fucking Acanthus he is, "I found the remote." He offers it over to Fox with what, in another man, might be a giggle.
Time Adept + Life Master = Fox can actually be tired. It can happen! Fox sprawls on her stomach, pushes her hair out of her face, and then drops her head back onto the floor. "Sun and moon and stars," she mumbles, the way someone else might say 'Jesus fucking Christ.' And then he finds the remote, and she comes crawling across the floor to take the remote from him, staggering to her feet. "Fucking amazing." That covers many things at once, does that. "I'mma get some goddamned water. And then we should watch more of The Great." Because you know what's more fun than watching a poppy, soapy show about Russian royalty?
Watching a poppy, soapy show about Russian royalty with a disgruntled Ukrainian loves to grumble, and you love to listen to grumble. That's what.
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