A/N : Surprise! Just a long one-shot, even though I've got a hundred other things to do.

Warnings : AU. Human characters. Language, violence. As always, some liberties taken. 'Bout it. This exists because I felt like writing about a typical specimen of the Russian male, at least from my personal experience. I love them to death, crazy as they are. Of course, not every Russian man falls into the stereotype, so no offense or anything. I'm sure there are perfectly 'normal' individuals. I just haven't met any (okay, I met one. One. One doesn't count (heeeeey, Pavel!)). Also, I mean, we all need a break from 'Zachem Ya', I think. Thanks for reading, as always. ;) (PS : 'a dick over your shoulder' is some good Russian slang for when someone starts asking too many damn questions.)

Those Flowers

"You're crazy."

Those were the first words that Gilbert had said, when Ludwig showed him the ticket.

"You're crazy."

Maybe he was, or maybe he was perfectly normal and Gilbert was the crazy one. Yeah, that sounded better. Gilbert was crazier than he was, but still found the gall to bitch at him. As usual. Gilbert was always bitching at him for one thing or another, it seemed, but, to be fair to Gilbert, this one might have actually been deserving of a good lecture.

Kind of out of the blue, and certainly a venture that was out of the ordinary for Ludwig. The first time he had ever left home, and so it must have been absolutely shocking for Gilbert that the first place Ludwig was ever going was to the place that Gilbert hated the most.

Russia.

It had only been five years since the wall had fallen, and Gilbert was no doubt still stinging. Gilbert hated the Reds (still called 'em Reds, even after everything was said and done, and likely always would), and so maybe it hurt him a little, that his little brother was suddenly interested in them. Well. Always had been, really, just hadn't ever been able to say that to Gilbert.

Gilbert woulda broken his nose. Kinda looked like he wanted to now, come to think, so Ludwig took a step back.

Hell, maybe poor Gilbert didn't know how else to react except with a punch, so Ludwig kept his distance as Gilbert stomped his foot and cried, "Like hell you're goin' to Siberia! Siberia! What's the matter with you? Why the hell would ya ever wanna go there for? Good god, Lutz! That's like sayin' ya wanna go to fuckin' Bosnia for summer vacation! What's the matter with ya?"

Ludwig stood dutifully still until Gilbert was finished screaming at him. Took a while, and by the end Gilbert was so mad that he wasn't really making too much sense anymore.

Now. How to tell Gilbert that he had been saving up for this trip for years. Had been planning it for years.

When it all died down a little, Ludwig finally spoke up. A little.

"It's not like you think. I hear Siberia is nice. Way safer than Bosnia—"

"Yeah!" Gilbert interrupted, bitterly, "As long as ya don't freeze to death!"

Well...

That might have been a little true, so Ludwig stayed silent.

Gilbert stared at him for a long while, and then said, somewhat defensively, "Well—! You can't go, Lutz, you can't even speak Russian, how the hell are ya going to get around? In the middle of nowhere like that!"

It took Ludwig a second to find the courage to say, carefully, "I speak a little, Gilbert."

Gilbert looked downright horrified, and sputtered, "Speak it? Since when?"

Feeling stifled and frustrated, Ludwig just shrugged a shoulder, and grumbled, "I've been working on it for a long time. Some of us like studying, remember?"

Gilbert looked so mortified, so upset, so scared. As if an enormous betrayal had been committed. Surely, in his mind, there had been. Must have been Gilbert's worst nightmare, his little brother being interested in the people he hated more than any other.

"How the hell have you been studying it, huh? Those fuckin' letters—"

"Irina was helping me," he finally said, and Gilbert froze still.

A look of confusion. Agitation.

"Who the hell is that?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes, then, and felt exasperated, more than anything.

Figured.

"The woman that works in the gas station you go to every day, Gilbert."

Gilbert's eyes widened, and he looked around for a second, and then finally managed a lift of his brow, and raised a hand to his head.

"What, the one with the knockers?"

Irritation.

"She has a name," Ludwig muttered, and Gilbert seemed hardly abashed.

Christ almighty, Gilbert went in there every single day for the sole purpose of staring down Irina's chest, and in all that time couldn't even bother to learn her name. How did that not surprise him much?

Another sputter, this time indignant.

"What, she's—she's Russian? I didn't know that!"

"Actually," Ludwig offered, "She's Ukrainian. You'd know that if you actually bothered to ask anything about her instead of accidentally rolling your coins over the counter so she has to bend over and pick 'em up."

Again, Gilbert didn't seem in the least embarrassed, and seemed offended that he had been eyeballing a 'Red' more than anything else. Maybe Gilbert had just tried hard to pretend her accent was some other Slavic language. Polish or something. Serbian. Anything other than Russian.

Gilbert recovered from that shock quickly enough, and then firmly set his foot down.

Once and for all.

"You're not going. Absolutely not. No way. I forbid it, you hear me? You're not going. Go get your goddamn money back, because you're not going, Lutz. Go return it right now. You're not going. And that's that."

"Goddammit, Lutz, you can still get your money back. Come on. Please."

Gilbert's firm demands had turned into pleas by the time Ludwig had boarded the train a month later in the middle of November.

So much for 'that's that.'

Gilbert was all hot air, always was, and Ludwig had been able to make it to the train station without getting a black eye. Thankfully. Somehow, though, Gilbert's endless, relentless nagging was almost worse. Kinda wished Gilbert would have just punched him, because then at least he'd shut the hell up.

"Ludwig! Stop. It was funny, it was. Not funny anymore. Come on. Time to go home. Ludwig. ...Ludwig? Please."

Uh-oh! Full name! Gilbert only called him by his full name when he was putting him in place. Didn't scare him anymore like it did when he was little. Ludwig rolled his eyes as Gilbert hounded him from behind. Neatly ignoring Gilbert only made him louder, as always.

"Ludwig! I'm done playing with ya, I really am. This is gettin' old. Listen to me! Hey! Ludwig!"

Gilbert was nearly screaming when Ludwig stepped onto the platform. People eyeballed from afar. The train pulled up. Gilbert got ever louder. The doors opened.

"Ludwig! You turn around right now! This isn't funny! Come on, I'm really gettin' pissed off, Ludwig, turn around!"

When Ludwig took the first step forward, Gilbert's voice had gotten high-pitched. Ludwig just carried on. Sure wished he'd stop making a scene, though. Embarrassing.

When Ludwig was in the door, he turned around, just long enough to look at Gilbert and say, sternly, "I'll be back in a month or so, Gilbert. Stop worrying. It's gonna be alright. I'll be back before you know it."

With that, Ludwig walked into the train, and heard Gilbert's shriek from behind.

"Son of a bitch! Ludwig! Ludwig! Goddammit! You dumb little bastard, Ludwig, I fuckin' swear—"

The last words he heard from Gilbert. Not too surprising, if he were honest. Shoulda known it wouldn't have been a simple goodbye. Nothing was ever simple with Gilbert, it seemed. Ludwig was beyond grateful when he put his suitcase up and sat down. Peace and quiet. Mostly.

The train started moving later, and Ludwig's heart started racing in excitement.

And, despite Gilbert's warnings and bitching and moaning, everything went quite well. The train to the Russian border was on time, his passport was inspected, his visa went through, his passport was stamped, and Ludwig was more excited than he ever would have admitted when he was finally in Moscow.

Oh, Gilbert. Wouldn't ever understand. Ludwig had wanted this trip for so long. Couldn't say why or when it had started. Growing up, all anyone ever heard about was the war, and maybe it was hard not to be interested in the Russians. Couldn't ever seem to go anywhere or do anything without being reminded of them, if only by the sight of that wall. Gone but not forgotten.

Anyway, Ludwig could certainly say that Siberia, with all of that endless wilderness, appealed to his sense of isolation and calm. Couldn't wait to be out in the middle of nowhere, away from the majority of civilization. Connecting back to nature, maybe, in some way. They way he was envisioning it, anyway.

In Moscow, after hanging in the city for a couple of days and yet somehow managing to speak to no one, at least not in Russian, he finally boarded the train that was going to take him through Siberia. Moscow was great and all, for a taste, but Ludwig hadn't really wanted to hang around that city for too long.

Wanted Siberia.

Could barely contain squeals of excitement when he stepped into his cabin for the first time. Two beds. More expensive, yeah, but that had been worth it for him just to avoid sleeping in a hallway with a dozen other people he didn't know. Better to sleep with one person he didn't know.

So he set his suitcase down, sat himself down, and waited patiently for the train to settle. He pulled out his notebook, and looked it over in the meanwhile. Every single aspect of this trip was planned. Two days in each city they stopped in, and day trips in smaller towns. Ludwig had researched each and every one of them to make out a neat itinerary of where he would go in each municipality.

Everything was perfectly planned. Everything in his life usually was.

Just waiting, now.

Didn't take long before someone ducked into the cabin and sat down before him. Ludwig looked up to see his roommate. An inward sigh of relief; a young guy, more or less his age. Whew. Ludwig had been internally terrified of sleeping in a cabin with a woman or a cranky old man.

A quick stare between them, as they each seemed to be taking the other in.

The guy looked friendly enough, bundled up in a coat and pants tucked into his boots, smiling and brow high. Long brunet hair, tied back out of his face. Dark blue eyes. Sharp nose and gaze. Easy-going air, and everything about him seemed approachable and nice enough. That was some good luck, at least. People in Moscow had been rather unfriendly.

The man removed his coat, put it away, and reached out his hand, suddenly, and said, amicably, "Nice to meet you. I'm Toris."

Ludwig stretched over and took it, and replied, quickly, "Ludwig."

A quirk of Toris' brow, and Ludwig knew that he was thinking, 'What's a German doing all the way out here?'

Sure enough, the next thing Toris said (in German) was, "What are you doing here?"

Thick, accented, but comprehensible and well put together, and maybe Toris was as excited to practice his German as Ludwig was his Russian. Well, he'd have plenty more time to practice Russian, being in Russia, so may as well let Toris have a little fun with his German. Anyway, a little comforting, not to have to humiliate himself with a language he was nowhere near fluent in yet.

"I don't know," he said, with a little embarrassment. "Just always wanted to come, I guess."

Toris just nodded, and seemed to accept that as an answer.

"What are you doing out here?" Ludwig asked, a minute later.

Toris gave him a breezy smile, and said, "I got a job in Vladivostok. Moving out there. Thought I'd take the train to sightsee on the way."

"That's where I'm going, too," Ludwig said, maybe a little too eagerly, and Toris just lifted up his brow.

"Oh, yeah? Ever been out here before?"

Ludwig shook his head.

"Never?"

Another shake.

Toris looked rather surprised, more than anything.

"Well. You're going big for your first time in Siberia!"

Well, Gilbert had always said, 'Go big or go home.' Why not? Better to just go all the way.

A minute of silence, and then Ludwig asked, "Where are you from?"

Toris sat there for a second, and Ludwig could see that he was trying to remember the German word he needed. Came to him eventually, and he replied, "Lithuania! I've been out here lots of times, though. Feel like I was hardly ever home anyway."

"Ever been to Germany?"

Toris nodded his head.

"Yeah, I went a lot after the collapse."

The fall of the Soviet Union had made it so much easier to travel, and surely Toris had taken advantage of it as much as Ludwig was. Glad that, for once, someone didn't make him feel weird about this journey.

After that, Ludwig spent the hours chatting with Toris, and was grateful that it was all going so great. Ludwig was actually smiling there, towards the middle of it. Didn't do that too often, honestly. Everything was just going so damn well that he didn't even know what else to do except smile. Hell, he'd already made a friend. Take that, Gilbert!

All those warnings seemed ridiculous.

Day passed into night, and Toris was still talking to him. They went out only to catch a meal, and Ludwig's confidence was ever growing. Felt the first stirrings of comfort in himself and this decision.

They slept that night, pretty easily, and the next morning, the train came to its first stop.

Toris had looked over at him, as they stood up to disembark, and asked, "Well. If you want, you can walk around with me."

Ludwig glanced down at his neatly prepared list, at his set goals, and shuffled his feet. Well. Didn't want to mess up his planned schedule, but kinda liked Toris. Finally, he tucked the paper away, and stood up straight.

"Alright."

Toris smiled.

Anyway, maybe it would be better to stick with someone who spoke fluent Russian, at least until his got better.

Stepping into the freezing air was quite refreshing. Still very close to Moscow, though, so the city they were in wasn't quite as quaint and isolated as the ones farther on that Ludwig was looking forward to. Still pretty, in its own way. Clear sky. Clean air.

As it turned out, Toris seemed to like walking around aimlessly more than he did actual sightseeing. Every now and again, Ludwig would offer a destination, and Toris would nod his head, but other times, when Toris was walking too eagerly, Ludwig just stayed quiet and followed him.

So much for his plans.

Oh, well. Found later on that he didn't mind too much, because it was nice just to have somebody to walk with. Didn't mind Toris' wanderings, as long as Toris chatted with him. Everything was going great.

Two days later, they were back on the train. Ludwig was quick to show Toris his plans in his notebook, so that the next time they stopped Toris might feel a little more inclined to do some of those things. Toris had just smiled at him, taking the hint, and seemed compliant. Excellent. Couldn't be better. Ludwig was actually quite surprised at how damn easily everything was going for him.

Smooth sailing, at least until that drunk guy had come barging into his compartment.

Actually, he hadn't barged in at all, so much as fallen.

Ludwig had been minding his own damn business, as he always did. Toris had gone out to wander around the train, and Ludwig had been content to watch the fields and forests go by. And then, suddenly, out of godawful nowhere, the compartment door was forcefully banged open and a guy fell onto his back right into Ludwig's damn cabin. Ludwig bolted upright in alarm, and stared over with wide eyes and hammering heart as he tried to figure out what the hell had happened.

A man had fallen in.

That guy. Good god, that guy; the biggest fuckin' guy he'd ever seen in his life, so big that Ludwig was surprised he didn't derail the goddamn train as he had fallen.

A long, horrible silence, as Ludwig panicked, and the guy was inert there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. And then he started laughing, and didn't stop. Ludwig could see right off how dismally drunk he was. Could smell the vodka a mile away.

The man's friends ducked in, looking at Ludwig rather abashedly, and Ludwig braced his arms in alarm as the guy on the floor tilted back his head, and said, in a thick slur, "Hey! Sorry about the door."

Sorry about the door? More like sorry for scaring the living daylights outta ya.

It was the first time that Ludwig got to practice his Russian with an actual Russian in an actual one-on-one setting, and it was a lot more terrifying than he had always thought it would be. Irina was not a gigantic drunk Russian man, and neither was Toris for that matter, and Ludwig was downright petrified when he finally said, "It's alright."

Afraid to say anything else. Certainly wasn't gonna tussle with that man. Not that man. That guy coulda knocked him out with one finger.

When the guy was hauled to his feet, after a good struggle by three separate men, Ludwig finally got a quick look at him.

Older than Ludwig was, but not by too much. Tall. Light hair. Big as a damn house—goddamn, was that his fuckin' chest or was he wearing a barrel under that shirt? Hardly, not with that shirt. Wearing a thin, white wife-beater, even though it was late fall in Siberia, and cargo pants that were an odd shade of grey. Tufts of pale hair poking out from the top of the shirt and covering his arms.

Weirdo.

...a huge weirdo, so Ludwig didn't give him any strange looks, for his own sake. Christ, hadn't ever seen such a big guy. What the hell did this guy even do to be that damn big? Would that size be considered good breeding or bad out here?

His mind was whirring with so much that he felt sick. That guy had thrown him off. Hadn't expected that.

Were people even allowed to drink on the train? Dumb question; he was in Russia now. Didn't matter if it was allowed or not, because people were still gonna do it. Huh. Wonder how much booze it took to get a huge bull like that drunk. A keg of vodka, probably. Didn't matter, really; the guy was already drunk, and abysmally, and all Ludwig could do was wait for him to leave.

His friends kept on trying to drag him, and yet the guy was suddenly planting his feet on the floor and seemed content to stay put. Ludwig felt himself sitting back down, arms crossed over his chest as he tried very hard to not panic.

Just leave already, man.

The guy stood there for a long time, swaying back and forth, and then, suddenly, a lopsided smile crept over his face, he lifted up his hand to his forehead and gave a weird little salute, and then one of his buddies finally managed to drag him onward. Didn't really look like he had wanted to go, though, all of a sudden.

One of the guys said, "Sorry!" and then shut the compartment door.

Ludwig sank down in relief, and heaved a sigh through his nose. What a great way to start the day. When Toris came back, later on, Ludwig relayed the tale to him, hands still shaking. Toris giggled so hard that he nearly started crying and Ludwig, for his part, tried damn hard to forget the entire thing had ever happened.

The next day, they reached their target city.

Toris bounded off the train, an eager Ludwig hot on his heels.

Sure enough, the farther from Moscow they got, the more Ludwig was content, because the cities were ever smaller and cleaner. Closer and closer to the land he had envisioned in his head. Pretty out here, so pretty. So many forests. So many trees. Isolation. The few houses he saw were small, and had wooden doors and shutters, carved in beautiful patterns and painted with bright colors.

Ludwig fell in love with Siberia as much as he always thought he would.

Gilbert woulda died if he had ever heard anyone say, 'I love Siberia.' So many people still thought of Siberia as a land of gulags and ice. So much more than that, if anyone would ever give it a chance. So many forests—Ludwig loved that, more than anything else. Like an entire land full of Black Forests, as far as the eye could see, with one pretty little town right in the center. Loved it out here.

Toris seemed to enjoy his happiness, smiling just as much as Ludwig was.

Loved every new city, every new sight. So much more peaceful than Berlin.

At some point in time, Toris had wandered off from Ludwig's side, just briefly. Ludwig had carried on without him. Shouldn't have. Toris had only been gone for two damn minutes when Ludwig ran into trouble.

Just two minutes.

Ludwig rounded a corner, and bumped straight into an obstacle. A very large, very hard, very imposing obstacle. And when Ludwig looked up, he realized, in horror, that he had bumped right into that huge drunk guy that had fallen into his cabin. The guy turned around, brow high in surprise, and Ludwig took a step back.

That guy.

Only he wasn't drunk right then, and now that they were in sunlight, however pale it may have been, Ludwig could get a better look at him. Could see him. This time, he was dressed a bit more appropriately, but only a bit. This time he wore a long-sleeve shirt and thicker pants, but no coat. No hat, no gloves. Didn't seem bothered at all by the cold air. About to snow at any minute, and the guy didn't seem to even notice. Must have been from somewhere around here. Or maybe all those damn muscles and that stockiness kept him warm.

Pale hair, not quite as pale as Ludwig's own, but glossier. Longer, coming down to just above the nape of his neck, trimmed quite neatly, bangs falling down into eyes. Pretty eyes, come to think. Hadn't been able to see the color of them last time, but could now. Grey, pale enough to be near lilac. An interesting color, for sure. Hadn't seen that before. A rather broad chin, but round cheeks. Faint, weather freckles over the bridge of a crooked nose. Broken a few times, no doubt, probably in fights. One of those unabashed Slavic noses, the ones you either loved or hated for its utter prominence.

Actually, everything about that man seemed like something you had to either love or hate. Didn't seem to be much of an indecisive middle ground.

...not the worst lookin' guy Ludwig had ever seen, that was for sure, if he had to offer an opinion. His scale tipped towards the positive side. Not someone who Ludwig would have easily forgotten.

Maybe that was a mutual feeling.

The guy must have remembered Ludwig somehow, because that slanted smile came back to his face as he brushed errant bangs out of his eyes. A look up and down, and then the man said, suddenly, "Hey, you. Hey. Sorry about yesterday."

How in god's name did that drunk bastard even remember? Had been absolutely hammered.

Ludwig froze up, as he did when put on the spot, and felt himself swallowing. The way the guy was looking him up and down wasn't exactly helping.

Now what? What to do. What should he say? Almost afraid to speak, afraid that that guy would see he wasn't Russian and maybe be a little aggressive. His friends were behind him on the street, close enough to hear the conversation.

Damn.

So, Ludwig finally just nodded.

The guy looked him up and down yet again, waiting for conversation, and the smile was growing ever wider.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to fall in your cabin. Sorry. Tripped. Well! Guess it's a nice way to meet someone, huh?"

Ludwig stood there, staring, and shrugged a shoulder, trying his damn best to keep up with the speedy Russian speech. He managed, but only barely. A little struck too by the sound of the guy's voice, now that he was close and he was speaking to him. Such a scary man, a huge specimen of Russian masculinity, and yet for it all his voice was actually quite soft. Soothing. Smooth and pleasant. Gentle. A bit breathy.

Certainly a pretty voice for such a man.

The guy leaned forward a bit, bending at the waist, as if scrutinizing Ludwig, and said, "You don't talk much, huh?"

Another shrug.

Then, at that second silent shrug, suddenly the smile had become somewhat beautiful. Hadn't expected such a huge, scary man to have such a pretty smile, as much as he hadn't expected him to have that voice. Two things now that seemed so surprising about this guy.

"Say, we'll be on the train together for a while, huh? Well, maybe. Where are you going? I'm going to Novosibirsk. Is that where you're going?"

Oh, shit.

He was starting to look like a weirdo, no doubt, in front of those men, being so silent as that guy kept on talking to him, so Ludwig finally didn't have much of a choice but to open his mouth and speak.

"No. I'm going to Vladivostok."

And just like that, the guy's damn smile was somehow bigger, and he leaned farther forward, hands still tucked in his pockets and eyes still squinted. Didn't these people understand personal space?

"Say," came the somewhat suave croon, in slower speech, "Your accent is cute. You out here on vacation or something? How long are you staying? Ever been here before?"

Aggressive, alright, but not quite in the way Ludwig had expected.

Eager.

Too many damn questions at once, though. Could barely even process the words, let alone find a proper response. Took him too long still to form sentences up in his head and then try to get them to come correctly out of his mouth.

That time, Ludwig only managed a clumsy, dumb, "I'm here for, ah...a month."

Month and a half, actually, but had forgotten suddenly how to say 'half'. Damn.

The guy seemed quite content to keep listening to him fumbling his Russian, still smiling at him in a rather charming manner, eyes scrunched up and teeth gleaming in the light, and Ludwig might have been more focused on how handsome he was if he weren't so scary. Not intentional, certainly, but nothing about that man could have ever come off as anything less than daunting, big as he was. Ludwig was struck dumb just by the overwhelming sight of him. Even though he smiled like a kid.

Absolutely intimidating, in every sense.

Suddenly, salvation, before Ludwig could make a fool of himself all the more. Toris had returned, and he settled in a bit behind them. A quick glance of absolute disinterest between Toris and the huge man leaning over Ludwig, and it was clear to Ludwig that Toris' scale seemed to lean toward the negative.

Toris saved him, in the end, by coming up behind him and then leading him on down the street with a nudge to the shoulder when he saw that Ludwig was paralyzed. Oh, thank god! Coulda fuckin' kissed Toris right there, he swore it, saving him from that man.

If only for a while, because the guy called behind him as they went, "See you on the train. We'll talk some more."

Yikes.

Terrified as Ludwig suddenly was, it bothered him a bit that Toris seemed very much unfazed.

But maybe Toris could see that he was bothered, because he finally looked over and said, cheerily, "Don't look so scared. Lots of guys are like that over here. They don't mean anything by it. Just the way they are. Anyway, it's better to make friends. You did good by letting him talk to you, anyway. Woulda been mad if you had ignored him, probably. Just let 'em talk, and they'll go away eventually. Don't be scared of them."

Eh. Couldn't seem to win either way.

A while later, as the sun started lowering and it was snowing, Ludwig asked Toris, "So, you don't think anyone will mind that I'm German?"

Had been glad the guy hadn't asked him where he was from.

Toris snorted, and lifted up his head.

"Nah. Maybe a long time ago, it might have been better not to tell anyone, but nowadays it's all about Americans. Don't think anyone out here cares too much about the Germans anymore. Better to be German now! Don't worry about that. They won't care, as long as you're polite. And you better hold open doors for the women, by the way."

"Oh."

He felt a little daunted, sometimes. He may have only been planning to stay here for a month, but it felt quite prudent all the same to learn the unspoken rules. Didn't want to come off as rude.

Toris looked over at him, clapped him on the back, and said, "Well, good thing you're with me, huh? I'll help ya out. It's not too hard. Half of them are drunk all the time, so they probably won't even notice you're there."

Yeah. Except for that guy.

When they boarded the train, Ludwig found himself looking over either shoulder cautiously. Didn't want to get snuck up on by that man. There was nothing, though, and he eventually let down his guard.

That night, as Toris snored away beside him, Ludwig stared out of the window until he heard the door of the cabin rustle. A jolt of panic. He looked over, as the door slid open, and then a head poked in. And Ludwig might have groaned, if he hadn't been so damn petrified.

That guy. Again.

Sure had remembered the cabin he had fallen into. How? Drunk as he had been. How the hell had he remembered any of this at all? Didn't get it. How often did this guy drink like that that his body had learned to function properly?

"Hey," came the soft whisper. "Say. Hey, you."

Ludwig bristled a bit, and turned to give the man the closest thing to a glare that he dared. You. He had a goddamn name, and the polite thing to do would have been to ask for it.

...woulda said it, too, except that the guy's fuckin' arms were probably thicker than Ludwig's thighs.

Meh.

"Hey, come here. I wanna... Well. Come here."

Against his better judgment, Ludwig stood up, if only because he didn't want the guy to wake up Toris. And maybe because he was afraid to make that guy angry.

He walked into the corridor, shutting the door behind him, the guy was leaning against the wall with a leer, and Ludwig wanted to hiss, 'You're not supposed to walk around the train at night!' Troublemaker. Rules were there for a reason. Ludwig might have felt more appalled by this lack of respect for authority, had the guy not pushed his hand forward then.

A sweet smell.

Took Ludwig a dumb second to figure out what was going on.

Flowers had been suddenly thrust in his face, rather briskly, and the guy was leaning forward, smiling away in that pretty, crooked manner, hair in his eyes and sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if it were too warm in here.

"Hey, like I said, sorry about yesterday. Thanks for not kicking me out."

Okay.

First of all, he had said sorry once already. Once was enough, thank you very much. Second of all, Ludwig would never in his life have tried to 'kick' that guy out, because, maybe he hadn't noticed, that guy was about three times his size, which was saying quite a lot because Ludwig was not very small himself. And third of all, no. No. Just no. None of this. No.

No.

Ludwig opened his mouth, and meant to say, 'Get the hell away from me, you psycho,' but the chance was denied him when the guy was apparently too impatient to wait for Ludwig to take the flowers on his own, and instead reached down, opened Ludwig's hand quite forcefully, and shoved the flowers inside. A long, hard stare, and then the guy gave a short, satisfied nod, turned on his heel, and walked off.

Ludwig was left to stand there in the corridor, bruised flowers in hand and feeling absolutely idiotic. Hadn't ever felt so dumb as he did then, standing there like that. It was only the fear of being seen and fussed at for being in the hall at night that finally got Ludwig's feet moving. He slipped back into his cabin, quietly as possible, and shut the door.

Felt kinda drunk, suddenly.

Toris stirred, but didn't really wake up, and Ludwig was beyond grateful.

Now. What the hell was he gonna do with these damn flowers? Toris was never going to let him live this down when he saw. With little other recourse, Ludwig just sat them down in the corner, and tried to go back to sleep. Didn't really manage it, and morning came before he had really even known it.

Hadn't slept hardly a damn hour.

Felt like shit by the time Toris had woken up and pulled himself upright, loose hair sticking all over the place. A sleepy smile, a rough greeting, and then, fuckin' figured, Toris caught sight of the flowers tossed down in the corner, and his smile turned into a grin.

"Ah," he began, huskily, "Those for me? You shouldn't have, dear."

Ludwig, eyes bleary and feeling woozy for lack of sleep, just shot Toris a glare and muttered, "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have. I regret it already."

Reaching up to smooth his messy hair, Toris took a few minutes to wake up, and when he was good and ready, he started leering and commenced the humiliation.

"Bet I know who gave you those," he began, earning a squirm from Ludwig. "Finding suitors already, are we? Didn't take you for a natural seducer."

Yeah, him either. Didn't know what the hell was going on. Finally, he gathered the nerve to ask Toris.

"Why did he give me flowers? Is that a Russian thing?"

Toris' smile was a little knowing, as if he had a damn good idea of what was going on, but eventually he just said, "Yeah. Kind of. Russians love flowers. Didn't you see how many damn shops there were in Moscow? They use flowers for everything. I do mean everything. 'Sorry your husband died', 'congratulations on your new job', 'sorry your dog ran away', 'thanks for giving me a present', 'sorry I ran over your child'. Everything. Not the worst thing in the world, if you ask me. Never hurts to get flowers."

Well. Guess that was true.

Before long, Ludwig was smiling, even over the horrible circles beneath his eyes. Whew. What a relief. Had been worried for a while there. Toris was kind of a godsend. Ludwig absolutely used that to his advantage, in every way possible. After that, Ludwig found himself asking Toris about everything strange thing he saw. If Toris was annoyed by the endless stream of queries, he didn't show it, and always answered quite patiently.

Asked Toris anything and everything.

'Why are so many people drunk?'

'The best way to keep warm!'

'Why are the buildings all so old?'

'Because the USSR didn't want to spend money, so whenever they fall down they just use the same bricks to rebuild them.'

'Why are those girls still wearing high-heels in the snow?'

'To look pretty for you.'

'Why is that old woman cutting in line?'

'Old women can do anything they want out here.'

'Why is everyone driving cars that are older than they are?'

'Still work, don't they?'

'What is that?'

'...a dick over your shoulder.'

'What?'

'...nothing. I mean, I dunno.'

Toris was mostly helpful.

That night, though, with those flowers still sitting in the corner, Toris finally asked a question of his own. Ludwig hadn't really expected it. Came out of nowhere.

"So," Toris began, carefully, "Ludwig. Do you have anyone back home? A girlfriend, I mean."

Ah...

Awkwardly, Ludwig had reached up, and had very much fumbled his response, "No! I don't have a girlfriend waiting. That is, I mean, I don't have a girl. Er, anyone, rather."

Yeah, blew that one, and from that raising of Toris' brow, Ludwig was pretty sure he had been caught. Oh, hell.

Sure enough, Toris dared, "Not into girls?"

By then, Ludwig knew his face was so red that Toris was probably worried he was going to pass out.

Ludwig, for it all, couldn't really figure out how Toris had even guessed. How that had even crossed his mind. Seemed so strange, that he had pinpointed that so easily, that he had even started that conversation. Had Ludwig been doing something strange? Had Toris noticed odd things about him these past days and had been wondering? Maybe he had been caught giving a handsome passerby a second glance.

From the blush on his face and neck, Ludwig probably didn't even need to answer aloud, as Toris surely already knew, but all the same he still shook his head. Because he wasn't into girls. May as well be honest.

Hoped that Toris wouldn't rethink his decision to befriend Ludwig.

At that point in time, though, Toris just lifted up his chin and said, simply, "I see! I think I kinda knew."

Ludwig didn't add anything more, out of fear. Didn't really want to know if Toris was thinking anything else that wasn't exactly polite to say aloud. Hated the thought of distancing his only friend over something that embarrassing. Aw, man. Shoulda been quicker on the trigger. Smoother.

Didn't sleep well that night, and, in the morning, Toris was gone. Came back a while later, but what he did then only made Ludwig feel worse.

Toris stopped before him, gave him a cheeky smile, and started gathering his things.

Ludwig watched him, with a furrowed brow, and then asked, "What are you doing?"

Toris had said he was going to Vladivostok, hadn't he? Not even halfway there.

"Oh, nothin'," came Toris' rather unconcerned reply, "Just switchin' bunks is all."

Ridiculously, Ludwig felt a little bit of hurt. Mortification. Oh, god, Toris asking him that the other night. Had Toris been creeped out? Was that why he was switching bunks? Oh god, he woulda died of humiliation if Toris was moving because he was worried about being in the same room with Ludwig after learning that Ludwig was a little off.

Felt sick.

Maybe Toris saw the falling of his face, and reached forward to clap him on the shoulder. "Hey," Toris said, easily, "Don't even worry about it. We're still gonna get off together and walk around. I just, ah, received an offer I couldn't refuse."

...what?

Humiliation turned into terror. Suspicious and anxious, Ludwig narrowed his eyes, and Toris seemed way too happy when he started backing up to the door.

Ludwig asked, warily, "What did you do?"

Toris' fuckin' beam.

"Like I said, don't worry about it. Someone just gave me a shit-ton of money to sleep in my spot, is all. I think you have an admirer." As Ludwig blanched, Toris grabbed the edge of the door in his hand, and seemed ever the more smug when he added, "By the way, I lied to you, Ludwig. I fuckin' lied to you. Russians do love flowers, but guys never give other guys flowers unless they're a little weird. Sorry."

And with that, Toris turned on his heel and bolted, because he knew damn well that Ludwig would have punched him in the face if he hadn't run.

Ludwig scrambled to the door, grabbed the frame, poked his head out, and screamed at Toris' back, "You know, your German sounds hell of a lot better when you've been something wrong!"

Toris looked over his shoulder, still beaming away, and then ducked out of sight.

Little son of a bitch, Toris.

Toris hid from Ludwig's sight for the rest of the day, and Ludwig waited as close to the door as he could, so that he could go bolting off as soon as the train stopped. Didn't even wanna go back to the cabin, he was so scared.

That day was the worst.

Novosibirsk. It was beautiful, it really was, but Ludwig couldn't enjoy it because his brain was grinding away like crazy and he felt a little ill. Oh, god. Oh, god, he felt sick. The day ended too soon. Time to board. Ludwig dragged his feet. Didn't even wanna get back on the train, not knowin' who he was gonna see layin' there in Toris' fuckin' bed, oh, god—

Even though he kind of knew.

Hadn't that guy said he was going to Novosibirsk, though? By all rights, that guy should be staying in this city. Shouldn't be on the train. Couldn't be him. Couldn't be...

Oh. How humiliating. He took a deep breath, and hauled himself back up onto the train. Oh, man, he was gonna drop dead before he even reached the cabin.

His imagination started running wild. A horrible flash in his mind of Toris, walking around the train as he always did, minding his own business, and then that guy coming up to him from behind and tapping him on the shoulder. Toris turning around and looking absolutely astounded as that guy started chatting him up, quickly, and Ludwig could already hear the conversation in his head.

Those flowers.

Toris had asked him that awful question the other night, no doubt, because that guy had asked him to. Toris had relayed the information and, hearing what he had wanted, the guy had leapt on the opportunity. Toris helped him along, for whatever unholy reason. The guy, pulling his wallet out and rummaging through bills. The high-browed look of satisfaction and glee on Toris' face as that guy had folded the bills up and put them in Toris' hand, probably quite firmly in his excitement, and then they clapped on it. Toris lookin' around, smugly, tucking the money into his pocket and enjoying what was going to be Ludwig's misery.

How was imagining that altercation more embarrassing? Mortification.

And, sure, enough, when Ludwig gathered the courage to slide open the door, there he was.

That guy. That fuckin' guy, sprawled out on what had formerly been Toris' bed, and when he saw Ludwig, he broke into a bright smile and drawled, cheerfully, "Hey, there! Hope you don't mind, I kind of paid your friend."

A long, hard stare, a shuffle of anxiety, and then Ludwig somehow found his voice and asked, sternly, "Weren't you going to Novosibirsk?"

The guy kept on smiling, hands behind his head and foot swaying in the air, and he said, nonchalantly, "Nah. I was going to Vladivostok, remember? You must have misheard. Better work more on your Russian, man."

The nerve!

And some nerve, not only to hijack his cabin but even more so to abandon his stop and carry on halfway through Siberia and then back just to harass some other guy he didn't even know. Some kinda pair, that was for sure.

Took Ludwig a long time to sit down. Did so only when the train lurched, actually.

The guy kept on staring over at him, eyes hooded and looking quite content, and then, for the first time, as the train started rolling, he asked, "Say, what's your name?"

Feeling rather threatened and somehow violated (and maybe, just maybe, a little charmed—maybe) Ludwig drew his knees up to his chest, glowering away, and muttered, "What's your name?"

The guy replied, in a high, friendly voice, "I asked you first."

And Ludwig opened his mouth to bitch, but heard himself say, instead, "I'm Ludwig."

Damn. Too terrified of this guy to do anything else, it seemed.

"Ah. Well, Ludwig, I'm Ivan. Nice to meet you. Several times."

The guy held out his hand in greeting.

Ivan.

No choice; too polite to refuse. Surprisingly, when he reached forward and took Ivan's hand, the grip was quite gentle. Go figure. A smooth, somewhat eager shake, and Ivan seemed reluctant to let his hand go at all when the time came.

And it seemed that after that surprisingly gentle handshake, despite Ivan's rough, calloused hands, Ludwig felt a little less terrified. A little. The guy was huge and intimidating, but so far he had been nothing but polite. Kind of. If not exactly polite, then certainly placid. Rather playful. Hadn't really given Ludwig a reason to be afraid of him, not really. Just his damn stature that had set off that wariness.

A moment of quiet staring on both parts, and Ivan seemed to be very happy with the whole situation. Didn't stop smiling.

"Where are you from?" Ivan asked, head held up on one palm and staring over at Ludwig without shame, pale hair gleaming from the light coming in through the window.

Ludwig said, quickly, "Germany."

Still felt good to say. Not 'West Germany'. Just Germany.

Ivan smiled, and seemed keen to his mood, saying, "Ah. Boy, I sure am glad you didn't say American! Woulda ruined my mood. So, why are you out here, if you don't mind me asking? Didn't think you guys were too fond of us just yet."

Ludwig, catching most of what Ivan had said, managed to fumble out, "I always liked learning about Russia. I don't know why. I thought it was interesting."

Sometimes, people just liked things for no reason whatsoever, and this was one of his.

Anyway, Ivan didn't really seem too interested in Ludwig's motives so much as keeping him happy and up for conversation. Ivan must have already known that Ludwig was German, because surely Toris had told him that, too. Ivan had just been trying to put him at ease by joking around.

Ivan's smile grew, and he rolled his head around a bit as he said, cheerily, "You're weird, aren't you?"

Look who was talking.

"You're the one who paid some guy to sleep here," he muttered, albeit in awful, broken grammar, and Ivan gave a short laugh.

"Guess so!" he said, with about as little shame as Gilbert had, and was more than happy to add, "Hope it doesn't bother you. I just think you're interesting."

Ludwig could see that Ivan was testing the waters, no doubt wondering exactly how 'weird' Ludwig was.

Afraid to say it aloud, surely, since being abnormal wasn't exactly as accepted out here as it was back home. Irina had warned him long and hard about that. When it came to that, Russia was still a little bit lost in the woods. Actually, she had warned him so much that Ludwig honestly regretted ever telling her in the first place. Dampened his enthusiasm a bit, but only a bit.

Anyway, not every person was the same. Toris hadn't cared, now, had he?

Sure enough, the next thing Ivan said was a rather probing, "So, out here by yourself! Bet your girl wasn't too happy about being left behind."

Not worded exactly as boldly as Ivan had been in everything else. Probably scared to go too far out and make a fool of himself, or scared that Ludwig would shoot him down and then forcibly kick him out with harsh words. Woulda been stuck on this train for days more, with everyone knowing he was...strange.

Even though Toris had confirmed it, in not so many words, that didn't mean that the guy could be sure that Ludwig would be interested in his company, and he could still be kicked out and put into the open. There was always the chance that Toris had misunderstood, as well, and that would leave Ivan open to a horrible exposure while getting nothing in return. Who would ever want that? Ivan was right to be cautious.

But, luckily for Ivan, he was the kind of company that Ludwig found himself suddenly interested in after all, and Ludwig didn't really know why he said, "Never had a girl."

Could have just said, 'Nope.'

Didn't know why he said it. Hadn't even told Gilbert. Hadn't ever had the courage to say it to him. Knowin' Gilbert, he probably wouldn't have given a shit, but it still would have felt so strange to actually admit. Hell, for all he knew, Gilbert was already onto him but just hadn't ever said it. Gilbert would probably just come up to him one day and say, 'For Christ's sake, this is getting old. I know all about it. When are you finally gonna introduce me to a fuckin' boyfriend, Lutz?'

Yeah, maybe, but Gilbert woulda keeled over dead if Ludwig had said, 'Alright! He's Russian.'

Holy shit, Gilbert woulda beat the hell out of him. Boyfriend? No problem. Russian boyfriend? Apocalypse.

He was letting his mind wander again.

...dammit. Why did he speak before he thought?

Ivan's smile had grown a little more eager. Now he was really in trouble. Trouble. Ivan sure was handsome, though, beyond that terrifying first impression, so there was that at least. Charming, in his own strange way. And, in some part of his mind, Ludwig was extremely flattered by all of this attention.

Ivan, leering away at him, said, "Never had a girl? A handsome guy like you? That's hard to believe. Guess you're as bad off as me. Never had any luck with them, either."

And there it was. The hint.

Another stare, and Ludwig just gave a quick, "Hm!"

Ivan's smile was a little calmer. Looked content. Before long, Ivan redirected the conversation back into small talk.

"So, what are you doing out here, Ludwig, really? Just sightseeing? Trying to find somewhere to live out here?"

Well. Maybe, in some part of his mind, Ludwig had wanted to scout out the scenery, in the hope of maybe finding somewhere to settle. Had thought it was just a fantasy. Seemed so hard, so daunting, to uproot and move to a completely new country, where he knew no one and could barely speak the language.

Gilbert's nagging didn't help, either.

So, Ludwig just shrugged a shoulder, and said, "I don't know. Maybe one day I'd like to live here."

Ivan shifted his weight, uncrossed his legs, and sat up straight.

After that, Ludwig found himself relaxing. His shoulders started dropping. Hadn't ever been able to talk to anyone else about this. Hadn't felt like anyone would have really understood him. Even Irina had thought he was a little strange, even if she always humored him. Felt nice to talk. As well as he could, anyway, for his shaky, terrible Russian.

He shifted a little, anxiously, and then asked, brokenly, "So, ah, what do you do? For work?"

Ivan gave a crooked smile, and said, simply, "Construction! You know, that's the great thing about being in construction; things are always falling apart in Russia so there's always work. I used to be a soldier, a long time ago, but everyone here has been a soldier."

Construction, eh? Hadn't expected that, exactly. Explained those rough hands, though. Ivan looked like he was cut out more for the army. Shoulda stayed there.

Offhandedly, Ludwig said, "Oh. I thought you were a boxer or something."

Ivan seemed flattered, for some reason, puffing out in pride, and said, "Well, everyone here has been a boxer, too, you know. I guess I am a boxer. Just don't get paid for the people I fight. Anyway, there's always a reason to punch someone over here."

...and he was terrified again. Great. He would find himself with the biggest damn troublemaker on the train.

Thankfully, whatever troublemaking tendencies Ivan may or may not have had, he seemed subdued in that instant, and Ludwig was grateful that there was only gentle chatter until sleep.

Towards the end, Ivan had tossed out, "I really like your voice, did I tell you that yet? It's nice."

Ludwig, maybe a little red, had muttered, "Thanks."

Likewise.

That was as bold as Ivan got, at least that time.

The night passed quite uneventfully.

When Ludwig awoke, Ivan was still asleep, on his stomach and hair sticking to the pillow, snoring away. Ludwig watched him for a while, feeling oddly satisfied. Ivan was handsome in a rather rough way, but seemed so much softer when he slept. Less intimidating, certainly.

Ludwig crept out to find Toris a while later, so that he could try to throttle the life out of him before Toris could escape into the city.

...maybe he wasn't quite as angry as he should have been. Kind of liked Ivan. A little. Certainly an interesting fellow.

Didn't catch Toris before the train stopped; Toris had gotten out first somehow and was waiting below for Ludwig. A short, sharp glare, and Toris just smiled. The first thing Toris said, when Ludwig stepped off the train, was a quick, "You're not gonna punch me, are ya?"

Ludwig lifted his chin, narrowed his eyes, snitted, "I'm thinking about it," and then promptly walked onward.

Toris trotted behind him, smiling away, and knew that Ludwig wasn't angry with him. Ivan wasn't following him, thankfully, probably still asleep, so Ludwig felt more at ease when Toris started teasing him.

"So," came the croon, "How's your new, ah, roommate treating you? Any more flowers?"

A dangerous, sterner glare.

Toris didn't die from it. Damn. He had been getting rusty these weeks without Gilbert to practice on.

In light of Toris being very much alive, Ludwig could only gripe, "What kind of flowers do Russians use for funerals? So I'll know which ones to get you."

Quite seriously, Toris replied, "Yellow."

Ludwig nodded, approvingly, and said, "I'll make sure it's a lovely ceremony."

"Thank you."

They walked in silence, for a while, until Toris looked over at him and changed the conversation.

"Just be careful," Toris said, a bit more seriously. "I don't wanna get you into trouble or anything. Tell me if you need help or something. Should be alright, but, hell. You never know. Ask me if you need anything. I might be able to help, but probably not."

Oh, sure! Toris had thrown him into the fire and was suddenly offering him an extinguisher. Little too late. Ivan had obviously already booked his trip to Vladivostok. No escaping him now.

"Well," Ludwig finally grumbled, as he eyeballed a few pretty houses, "You got me into this mess. Better get me out of it."

And Toris just lifted up his chin, and said, "Nah." Toris looked over at him again, and was leering away as he added, "Anyway, it's no good now. Too late, man. I think he's chosen you."

Ludwig furrowed his brow, and sent Toris a glance of confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Chosen him?

Toris laughed, then, tied hair bouncing behind him as he shook his head, and chirped, "Ah! Yeah! Yeah, that's the thing out here. Russian guys, they're kinda crazy. It's like, they tell right off who they want, you know? And, well... If they pick you, then they don't let up. Even if you keep sayin' 'no', they keep hearing 'yes'. Won't ever think you don't want them, 'cause it doesn't matter. Once they pick you, you're theirs, the way they see it. So, I think you're outta luck. Looks like he picked you. You're his now. Nice knowin' ya, man."

How charming.

Ludwig glared at Toris, suddenly, and muttered, "Yeah, and you're just helpin' him right along, aren't'cha?"

Toris looked hardly bothered. A simple, "Yup."

Ludwig rolled his eyes, tucked his hands in his pockets, and squinted his eyes in the wind.

Finally, he asked, "Why?"

Toris shrugged.

"Dunno. What can I say? I'm a romantic. Kinda cute, the way he's chasing you. Thought I'd give him a hand, is all. Anyway, there's nothing sadder than a love-sick Russian. They take romance very seriously. I swear, his damn world will end if you tell him you're not interested."

Love-sick? Hardly.

Ludwig didn't say anything else, because, to be honest, maybe he was a little interested. Hard not to be, with a guy like that. Ludwig suddenly found himself looking forward to whatever strange things Ivan would do next.

Looking forward to sleeping that night.

As it turned out, Ivan had quite a few ideas.

The next week was a bit intense, if only because Ivan seemed to be ever upping the ante when it came to desperately trying to get Ludwig's attention.

Desperately.

Must have known that they were getting closer and closer to the end of the journey. Every day that passed was one day closer to the end, and Ivan seemed to be feeling the pressure. Did anything and everything he could think of to get Ludwig's eyes on him, if only for a second. Ludwig found himself very much entranced, but played coy anyway because he liked to see Ivan tripping over his own feet doing dumb things just to try and get Ludwig to look at him.

Hadn't ever been chased this enthusiastically, and it was a pretty good feeling.

Ivan respected that Ludwig would be touring the cities with Toris, appeared to accept that fact, but never strayed too far from them, no matter where they went, always keeping Ludwig within view and always popping up somewhere or another whenever Ludwig turned.

Whenever Toris led Ludwig towards a door, somehow Ivan came rushing out of nowhere, bolting forward as fast as he could so that he could hold the door open for them. Well, for Ludwig, not them, but Toris was allowed to walk through without getting the door slammed in his face because Toris was Ludwig's friend.

Whenever they were in a quiet street, Ivan sometimes came trotting up beside them, and then overtook them, making himself quite visible in front of them and usually doing stupid things to make sure that Ludwig was watching him. Once, he jumped up to grab hold of a street sign, because who the hell knew why, and when Ludwig had looked at him, Ivan had been so excited that his grip had slipped and he had promptly fallen on his ass. Ludwig had still been watching him, though, so Ivan seemed to consider it all a success, pulling himself to his feet with a smile and a wince. When they finally walked by him, Ludwig spared him another look, and Ivan had very nearly jumped again, looking quite breathless.

How the hell had that street sign held that heavy bastard up?

Another time, Ivan had been ahead of them, waiting for Ludwig to get close enough to do something, when an older woman had complimented him offhandedly on his size and strength. Ivan didn't waste the chance, and held out his arm, inviting her to grab hold of his bicep. When she did, Ivan raised up his arm and lifted her right off the ground. When she squealed, Ivan looked over at Ludwig, brow high and face very satisfied, crooked nose fitting very well with his crooked smile.

Show off.

Ludwig just raised his own brow, and tried very hard not to smile when he walked past Ivan. Might not have succeeded, because Ivan was beaming again when he started jogging after them.

Damn it all if Ludwig didn't find himself falling for Ivan's charms.

Ivan was showing off, alright, and Ludwig was very much impressed. Strove so hard to get Ludwig's attention every second that Ludwig was pretty sure Ivan hadn't even eaten since he'd moved into Toris' bed.

Ivan was apparently trying very hard to convey to Ludwig that he was an extremely worthy suitor, doing everything he could to show off his size and bravery and good manners. Used every opportunity that came his way to try and impress Ludwig, in one way or another.

If Ludwig was in sight and someone going down the street the same way they were happened to be carrying something heavy, Ivan would leap in and offer to carry it, and would do so with one arm most of the time. If Ludwig was in earshot, Ivan would tell everyone that passed 'good afternoon', even though most of them didn't answer him, just because it made him look more polite. If Ludwig was within reach, Ivan would always stretch out an arm and thrust it in front of Ludwig's chest whenever they came to a crosswalk, as if Ivan was afraid that Ludwig would just walk straight into traffic otherwise.

If Toris and Ludwig's sightseeing at any point involved money, Ivan would come barging up out of nowhere, slap Ludwig's wallet aside, and quickly and sternly pay for everything. Couldn't even go into a café or bar without Ivan creeping up and snatching the bill right out from under Ludwig's nose, even if Ivan wasn't even eating or drinking there at all. (Toris waited sometimes for Ivan to pay for him, too, but was usually disappointed when Ivan pertly left him to his own devices, leaving Toris to pay his own way with an exasperated roll of his eyes.)

Apparently, being a gentleman was the only thing Ivan seemed to think would earn Ludwig's affections.

...kinda working.

A bizarre and yet refreshing change from his world, where everyone was equal and they knew it.

No one held open doors back home.

And every time that Ludwig finally glanced over at Ivan, finally spared a look at his efforts, finally gave him time of day as a reward, Ivan stood up straight and tall, puffed out in pride, and gave one of those wide, beautiful smiles that Ludwig found himself looking forward to.

Always, Toris just stood there and watched them, hands in his pockets and slouched in absolute contentment, leering away the whole while so hard that Ludwig was surprised he was able to wipe that stupid smile off his face at all. Toris looked like he'd found the best damn movie in the world. Couldn't seem to look away.

When they boarded the train, Ivan always went eagerly to the cabin and waited dutifully for Ludwig to follow. Most of the time, though, Ludwig very much dragged his feet, because the longer it took him to get there, the more anxious Ivan got. If it took him too long, then Ivan poked his head out to look for him, and sometimes he came out altogether to forcibly walk Ludwig back. When Ivan sat down on his bed (but only after Ludwig sat), he would constantly maneuver around here and there to force Ludwig to look at him. When Ludwig finally did, Ivan maintained eye contact and gestured with his hands as he spoke, as if doing so would somehow keep Ludwig's attention on him.

Ivan spoke to him until they fell asleep, and even though Ludwig didn't understand what the hell Ivan was actually saying to him half the time, the sound of his voice was comforting. Liked the sound of Ivan's voice.

And, when it was time to settle down, Ivan actually stood up politely, waited patiently until Ludwig stood up, too, and then said, 'Good night!' and offered a quick, friendly hug.

In the morning, Ivan would extend his hand and help Ludwig upright when it came time to disembark, and would let him walk out first.

Every single day that passed, Ludwig felt himself growing a little fonder of that whacko. Actually, he was starting to dread this journey ever ending. Didn't want to wake up one morning without Ivan smiling over at him.

Every motion Ivan made was somehow all the more endearing.

Well. Mostly, anyway.

Most of Ivan's quirky exertions were quite benign, but it was sometimes very easy to remember how dangerous Ivan could be when he felt so inclined. That size and strength wasn't always used just for showing off and holding open doors.

In Irkutsk, Ivan was trailing Ludwig and Toris as he usually did, when some guy bumped into Ludwig by accident. Ludwig was quick to accept the apology the guy offered and walk on, but when the guy walked past Ivan, Ivan must have said something rude, or maybe Ivan had sent the guy a belligerent look.

Didn't matter, really, because it didn't take too long for the both of them to start a fight over who knew what. Seemed like sometimes the guys over here just made up reasons to fight in the street.

Toris, as usual, was thoroughly unfazed, but Ludwig had been pretty damn alarmed, hearing a ruckus and turning around just in time to see Ivan punch that guy in the face. After that, an all out brawl ensued, some other poor guy somehow got dragged into it, and by the time they were all finally pulled apart by bystanders, both of the other guys were on the ground and Ivan's nose was bleeding, and a street sign had been taken out of commission too.

Ludwig could only mutter to Toris, in alarm, "Why are they fighting?"

Toris just snorted, and replied, "They looked at each other, didn't they? Good enough reason."

Crazy.

Ivan had then turned on the bystanders, puffing out to his full size and running them off with a stomp of his foot and lunge forward. Ran off quick enough; who would ever wanna fight with gigantic Ivan? Not high on Ludwig's own list of priorities, certainly.

Apparently, Ivan was extremely proud that he had come out on top of everyone and everything, and was quick to turn around to see if Ludwig was watching him. When he saw that Ludwig was indeed very much watching him (in horror, but that didn't even seem to matter to Ivan), Ivan puffed out as he always did, reached up to wipe his bloody nose absently, beaming away, and it was quite obvious to Ludwig that Ivan's look was saying, 'Did you see me win for you?'

Ugh.

Ludwig could only stare at ruffled Ivan, and he wasn't exactly sure why he let himself smile, breathlessly. Just at how proud Ivan was of himself. Just at how Ivan was willing to toss himself into a brawl because he had seen something he disliked. Just the way Ivan had beat the hell out of that poor guy for accidentally bumping into Ludwig.

Stupid. Ridiculous. Fighting over absolutely nothing.

But Ludwig smiled anyway, Ivan seemed so proud of himself that he was probably a breath away from exploding, and when Toris carried on walking, Ivan just followed them, as if nothing strange had occurred.

Ludwig felt jittery, and somehow enthralled. Somehow, seeing Ivan's brutal side made his gentle motions all the more fascinating. Knowing that Ivan could be incredibly violent and instead chose to skirt around Ludwig so carefully.

It was alright, in the end, because when they settled into their hotel for the night, Ivan came creeping into his room, sat down on the bed, and Ludwig found himself, for whatever reason, tending to Ivan's nose.

The smile Ivan gave him was well worth it.

Not the worst feeling in the world, certainly, sitting next to overly warm Ivan and leaning over to poke his fingers into the sides of Ivan's nose. Not to help it, certainly not, because it had already stopped bleeding for the most part and Ivan's nose had obviously been broken so many times that this certainly wasn't a bother to him, but in all honestly Ludwig was quite excited just to have an excuse to touch him.

The way Ivan had been courting him, Ludwig could have very well have touched him at any time, but if he did that then he was pretty certain Ivan would pounce, and Ludwig wouldn't lie and say that he didn't like being in control, because he did. Ivan may have been making all of the moves, but he was very clearly waiting for Ludwig's consent. Waiting for Ludwig to make the call. Ludwig, for his part, was content to drag it out, if only because he loved the way Ivan looked when he had successfully earned Ludwig's attention.

So Ivan just sat there, hands on the bed, and stared at Ludwig quite heavily the whole while Ludwig played around with his red nose.

May not have made it hurt any less, but some part of Ivan was certainly feeling better when he asked out of nowhere, as Ludwig was holding his head back and pinching his nose gently shut for no good reason, "Say! Can I stay here tonight?"

Whoa!

The first time Ivan had tried his luck in the hotels. Must have been emboldened by Ludwig's touch.

Couldn't exactly say what he was expecting, or what Ivan was expecting for that matter, and thinking about it too much scared him, so he didn't really know why he said, softly, "Okay."

Guess somehow he trusted crazy Ivan, odd as that sounded. Had been so gentle so far.

A deep, 'hm' of happiness from Ivan's throat.

And then, suddenly, Ivan had squirmed out of Ludwig's fingers and was pressing his nose into Ludwig's palm instead, and Ludwig found his hands being suddenly nuzzled to death. Goddammit all—that was actually pretty damn endearing, too, and Ludwig found himself smiling despite every valiant effort not to.

Ivan muttered, randomly, voice muffled beneath Ludwig's palms, "I like your hands."

A snort.

"Thank you."

Another 'hm', and Ivan added, "And I like how nice you are. Most people are such jerks. Me too, I guess, but that makes you stand out even more, you know? I feel a little nicer when you're around, anyway, if that makes sense."

Nicer? Sure, that was why Ivan's nose was busted up, alright, because Ivan had been feeling nice.

It was the sentiment that counted, he supposed, so Ludwig just said again, somewhat drolly, "Thank you."

Ivan just smiled.

That night, Ivan crawled under the blanket, and kept his hands very much to himself, although, when Ludwig had fallen halfway asleep, he did gather the nerve to toss his leg over Ludwig's, probably because Ivan could use his big size and the small bed as an excuse.

Ludwig kinda wished that Ivan had thrown an arm over him, too.

Days.

When they finally reached Vladivostok, Ludwig was feeling a bit melancholy. Blue. End of the journey, at least in terms of being with Toris.

Toris would get off here.

Didn't really want him to go. Had gotten so attached to Toris. One of the only friends he'd ever made in his life without Gilbert's aid. Ludwig dreaded the thought of him not being there anymore, dreaded the thought of losing this new-found feeling of friendship. Hated seeing him go.

And even when they stepped off of the train, even when Toris was finally home at last and by all rights should have been enthralled, Toris had just looked up at Ludwig as they had disembarked, and had said, drearily, "Well. Here we are."

Sad.

Those two days in Vladivostok went by far too quickly. Toris looked a little sad, and was more than a little quiet as he led Ludwig around the city. Too distant to really be much of a sightseeing companion. Felt like, in a way, Toris was as grey as the sky.

Ludwig felt the same.

Couldn't sleep well those nights, even though Ivan snuck into his room and crept into his bed.

When it was time, when it was over, when time was up, when the train was boarding, when it had dawned on Ludwig at last that Toris would be gone, the feeling was damn near stifling.

It was snowing.

Toris had grabbed his hand, and was uttering his goodbye. The handshake lasted for a while.

"Gonna miss you, man, I really am. Sure you don't wanna stay out here? Bet you could find a job. You could stay with me for a while, if you want. I won't charge you rent or nothin'."

Ludwig almost snorted.

Did he ever want that.

Couldn't, though. If he stayed now, then he'd probably never leave again, and maybe he wasn't really ready for that. Not ready to up and leave the nest and part from Germany and Gilbert. He wasn't quite grown enough yet to where he could feel comfortable with that. No matter how much he wanted it.

Instead of saying that, Ludwig said, "I can't. My visa is about up."

Not so honest, but a good excuse all the same. Had another good two months, but that was enough time for him to probably get stuck here.

Toris lifted his head, and was quick to poke a hole in that.

"Easy enough to extend, now, isn't it? Find a job and you can stay for years."

Years. Wanted to.

Toris knew that Ludwig wouldn't uproot that easily, though, and when they finally parted ways, Toris slipped him a piece of paper with an address and a number. Toris', no doubt, and Ludwig tucked it safely away.

"Come visit me whenever. Give me a call when you get back home. So I'll know you made it alright."

"Alright."

One more handshake.

Hated saying goodbye to Toris. Hated walking back onto that train, knowing he wasn't there anymore. Missing him already. The walk to the cabin felt like eternity. And yet, when he opened the door...

"There you are! I was afraid you were gonna stay or something."

Still had Ivan, though, sitting there on his bed and peering over at Ludwig with something close to smugness.

Ludwig turned to look at him and said, a bit sternly, "Didn't you say you were going to Vladivostok?"

Ivan just lifted up a shoulder and looked around.

Finally, a prim, "Nah. Don't know what the hell I'm doing out here. I never said I was getting off here. Must have slept through my stop. Thought I told ya to work on your Russian more? I'm going to Novosibirsk. That's what I said all along."

Ludwig smiled, if not weakly. Glad to have Ivan, if only for one more week.

A movement, and Ludwig looked up to see that Toris was out on the platform, jumping to catch his attention. Ludwig darted over, as the train started moving, and Toris walked along with it as Ludwig waved at him through the glass. Toris lifted his hand and gave one final goodbye through the window.

And then he was gone.

Gone.

Ludwig didn't really have too much time to be upset about it, didn't have time to mope or brood, because suddenly, out of nowhere, something shifted within the room.

A sudden hand on his shoulder, a rough grab, a furious wrench, and Ludwig found himself being twisted around so hard that he was pretty sure his arm had nearly come out of its damn socket. He staggered at the movement, lost his balance, and found himself being dragged up against a warm chest.

Stunned and a bit alarmed, he found himself freezing up.

When his brain started working again, he realized that it was Ivan who had come up behind him, obviously, had to be Ivan because he was the only one in here, it was Ivan who had grabbed him, who had yanked him around, and suddenly he found himself chest to chest with Ivan, whose other hand quickly flew down to snatch him by the waist and make sure he stayed in place.

Panic.

A long stare, as Ivan's iron fingers dug into his skin, and then, suddenly, Ivan had pressed forward and crushed their lips together so fiercely that Ludwig was pretty sure Ivan had split his damn lip. Taken off guard, not by the kiss so much as the rather rough way Ivan was suddenly operating. Had been so gentle and polite before. Hadn't really expected him to suddenly turn into a tiger.

...not really complaining.

Panic turned into something close to elation.

Now that Toris was gone, Ivan seemed comfortable enough to take charge, and maybe the big guy had just gotten impatient. Guess Ludwig had taken too long to give consent and Ivan was guessing the answer.

When Ivan finally let him go and pulled back a minute later, after somehow dislodging his tongue from Ludwig's throat, there was a rather strange silence, and it was easy to see the anxiety there upon Ivan's face. The height of masculinity, the vision of Slavic confidence, and yet there that huge man stood, stance loose and obviously ready to pull back in case Ludwig decided to slap him in the face. That guy, obviously scared of Ludwig even though he could easily have knocked Ludwig out with hardly an effort.

Ivan was wary of him.

Ludwig was a pushover, but he knew well-enough how he looked, and knew that someone who made a snap judgment about him might have assumed that he would have no problem fighting. For that, Ivan looked at him as one might have looked at a poisonous flower; nice enough to look at, easy to crush, but one that no one was particularly inclined to fight because the ease of victory might yet have left a nasty mark.

So, when Ludwig just stood there, and then, despite himself, smiled, Ivan slumped in relief and broke into one of those pretty smiles that Ludwig adored.

But for only a second, and then he puffed up again in confidence.

A stride forward, and Ivan kissed him again.

This time, Ludwig responded.

Adoration.

What Ludwig felt these days.

The train ride was so much smoother, so much more comfortable, so much more astounding when it was spent in constant contact with Ivan, who suddenly wouldn't leave his side for a second. No matter how many hours the train took, it felt like a blur when Ivan grabbed his arm and pulled him down atop him. No matter how slow the wheels outside were grinding, the world felt as if it were speeding by when Ivan held him there on his lap, Ludwig's legs on either side of him and Ivan's hands on his face.

Absolute adoration.

Ivan seemed quite determined to make the most of this last week, and Ludwig was more than a little enamored.

Especially the way Ivan was acting now.

If Ivan had been charming before without trying, then suddenly he had become downright magnetic.

Chivalry may not have existed much anymore back in the farther West, but it was very much alive out here, and Ivan was a prime example. Ludwig wasn't a woman, certainly not, but it was still kind of nice to have doors held open for him. It was nice to have Ivan wait until every other person was off the train so that Ivan could get off first and then extend a helpful hand to Ludwig without getting odd looks. It was nice to have Ivan stalking around the street, as if on guard, always keeping his shoulders squared and a rather protective eye on Ludwig at all times, although it was actually quite possible that he was just looking for a fight instead.

Felt pretty good, anyway.

The downside of course was feeling rather emasculated, especially in public, but he figured he could live with that for now. Anyway, hardly more embarrassing than going down the street with obnoxious Gilbert, and if he started feeling too lousy then he just went and opened doors or carried something for an actual woman, and felt better for it.

Ivan just continued to circle him in his strange, intense mating ritual.

Nothing had ever felt so good, not in his life. Had never been so enthralled by the mere presence of another human being.

That good feeling couldn't last forever, though, and soon it was upon them. Novosibirsk, again. Hated it. Hated the sight of it, hated reaching that city. Hated the sound of it. Hated the name. When the train started slowing down, Ludwig had put his arms around Ivan's neck and held on for dear life, as if by doing so somehow time might have stopped.

Ivan's face in his shoulder.

Didn't want Ivan to leave.

Time didn't stop, but the train did, and Ludwig felt like he was walking through sand when they stepped down.

Two days in Novosibirsk. Not long enough. Wished it could have been two years.

When they stepped off the train, Ludwig had thought that maybe Ivan would look as sad as Ludwig felt, but he didn't; actually, Ivan looked pretty damn happy, one hand in his pocket and head high as he looked around the train station with a smile, hair whipping away in the wind. Must have been glad to be home, after so long.

Maybe Ludwig had felt a little hurt, though, that Ivan wasn't wallowing in misery as much as he was. Distress, steadily mounting.

When Ivan suddenly turned to him and spoke, though, it was clearer to Ludwig why he wasn't upset.

"Will you come home with me? I don't live too far away. Please? I mean, I know you paid for the hotel and everything, but I'd love for you to come home with me. I'll pay you back."

Ludwig might have felt more than a little desperate when he said, without so much as a glimmer of hesitation, "Okay!"

Didn't care about being reimbursed for his time. Just wanted to be with Ivan for as long as possible.

Ivan beamed, tall and squared and puffed as he always was when he was pleased with himself, and his legs had spread out more than usual when he started walking.

That confidence, however, steadily started dwindling the closer and closer they got to Ivan's house. Quiet streets. Not as pretty as the center of town. Dilapidated buildings. Old cars that barely seemed functional. This part of town looked quite ready to fall apart at any minute, and maybe Ivan was realizing how that might have looked to someone who hadn't grown up in the Soviet Union.

His pace slowed, suddenly, and Ludwig had to physically force himself to walk more carefully so that he didn't overtake Ivan.

A few minutes later, Ivan came to a halt, and Ludwig looked over to see an old house, made of cinder-blocks and windows so dusty that it was impossible to see through them, dead plants in the tiny little yard and paint peeling off the door and shutters.

A sudden, tentative whisper.

"You guys have nice houses in Germany, huh? I hear it's really pretty."

Ludwig looked over, and when he saw how nervous Ivan was, he tried to play it off with a simple, "Well. They're not all nice."

Hesitation.

Finally, Ivan led him to the door, but stopped short before he actually tried to pull keys out of his pocket.

Another pause.

Ivan looked a bit abashed suddenly when he whispered, awkwardly, "Well. Sorry, I mean— Well, it's not the best house, you know. It's small. I haven't been here in a few weeks, too, so it might be a little messy. It's nothing much. I've never actually brought anyone here except a few friends. I've always been alone, so, I mean, I don't really have too much. My mom died a while ago, so, you know. No woman's touch anymore."

Ludwig was hardly concerned about that, and even if Ivan had lived in a cardboard box Ludwig would have rather died than say anything bad about it. Woulda literally ran into traffic before being forced to make a judgment over the condition of Ivan's house. Wouldn't ever make anyone feel bad about something like that, not ever.

So, he said, "It's fine."

With that, Ivan finally turned the lock and opened the door, ushering Ludwig inside from the cold.

To be perfectly honest, it was exactly as Ludwig had expected, after seeing the outside. Rather empty, dusty, random articles of furniture here and there that were about as old as the house, a kitchen that didn't seem to have much else in it except dried goods and vodka, and a brick oven.

...quaint.

But it was the man that made the house, after all, and everything seemed a thousand times better when he looked over to see Ivan standing there in absolute mortification, obviously awaiting Ludwig's verdict on his living quarters.

Again, he said, "It's fine. What are you so worried about?"

Ivan's look of complete relief.

Anyway, Ludwig would never complain, because having a house at all was something that should never have been taken for granted.

After that, Ivan's smile was back up, and the clock started ticking.

Hands on his shoulders, suddenly, then down his back, and Ivan said, more innocently than he no doubt actually meant it, "Let me show you the bedroom."

Ah.

Didn't have a chance to answer; Ivan was already dragging him.

From what Ludwig could see of the bedroom, in those short glimpses when he was able to tear his lips away from Ivan's and squirm around a little in his hands, it was pretty much just like the rest of the house. Dull and basic. But there was a bed, and that was all that mattered. A sturdy bed, perhaps more importantly, because somehow it managed to survive his weight when Ivan threw him down on it, and then Ivan's weight when he crawled on top of him. And, from what he could see over Ivan's huge shoulders, there was a small dresser, so at least Ivan actually had some clothes, but it wasn't obvious at first if they were good clothes or not, but he'd probably get to find out soon since Ivan was suddenly completely without them and would need some new ones later on once he finally managed to untangle himself out of Ludwig's legs. Looked like there was a bathroom, too. Good, because they were definitely going to need that, too, to get rid of all of that sweat.

That was about all that Ludwig really got to see after that, with the exception of the mattress once his face was pressed into it.

The pleasing sensation of weight above him.

Muttering in his ear.

Ludwig couldn't really have said exactly how any of this had happened, how he had gotten here, how he had wound up in this house with this man, how he found himself in this bed, and he really didn't care too much anymore. He'd spent his entire life living by perfect plans and mapping. This wasn't part of it, and for that, it was made ever the more astonishing.

Ivan had never been in his plan.

He was flipped over again before long, and when Ivan kissed him again, the plan didn't seem to matter at all anymore. Never in his life had he envisioned himself pinned underneath this man in the middle of Siberia. The most impulsive, reckless thing he had ever done.

Wonderful.

Ivan's nose in his neck. Hair agitating his skin. A chin in his collarbone. Heavy breathing that was steadily calming.

Whispering in his ear.

And then Ivan suddenly said, over that daze of warmth, "Please stay."

Not knowing quite what Ivan meant by that, be it 'stay tonight', 'stay tomorrow', or 'stay forever', Ludwig could only utter, "Mm."

Didn't know what to say.

Two days may not have been enough, but Ludwig could say that they were the best two days of his life. Not that there was much to compare to, in his dull existence. Ivan was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him. Felt alive, for the first time.

Waking up that second day, though...

Drowning. Even Ivan's heavy arm over his chest couldn't make that feeling go away. A nose pressing into his cheek, and fingers running absently over his side. That morning, Ivan was quiet. Melancholy.

Ludwig almost didn't find the strength to get out of bed, and when he finally swung his feet over the edge, he sat there for a while, head hanging, and just wanted to crawl back under the blanket. Didn't want to move.

The feel of the cold floor beneath his feet seemed ominous.

Ivan stayed put, and watched him silently as he dressed and shaved and combed his hair. Didn't say a word. In fact, Ivan didn't speak at all until Ludwig was finally standing in the living room, close to the door, suitcase sitting on the floor.

What Ivan actually said hurt Ludwig more than anything.

Ivan came up to him, shirtless and messy-haired, unshaven and looking exhausted, took his hands, and whispered, "Please stay. I know it's not much, but I wish you'd stay. We can stay here, and I can try to find a better house. I really can. Please, I'll build you a damn house if that's what you want. Just please stay. I'll build you a house. I'll get you anything you want. Just stay."

Stay. Oh, couldn't Ivan understand that that was what he wanted, more than anything? Wanted to stay. But he couldn't, he couldn't stay, he couldn't. Didn't care about the house. It wasn't the house that was holding him back. Just everything. Couldn't leave everything behind like that. He'd promised Gilbert he'd be back in a month.

All Ludwig could do then was say, in a low voice that was close to a whine, "I can't. I can't stay. I have to go. I'm sorry. I can't stay."

Silence.

And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, Ivan was angry. Furious. The hands wrenched back from his own, Ivan's face twisted in rage, and his motions became erratic.

A stalk around, feet stomping, and Ivan turned to look at him when he screamed, "So! So what? You wanna just leave, huh? Just like that? I asked you to stay, didn't I? I don't know what you want! I told ya I'd build ya a house, I told I'd do anything ya wanted! What else is there? What else do you want? I did everything right, didn't I? Did I do something wrong? Didn't it mean anything to you or what? Was it just fun? Just gonna leave now?"

Ludwig was angry too, then, at the words, and maybe he would have been able to harness that anger a little better if he hadn't been so damn alarmed by the sound of Ivan's voice in that instant.

The sound of it.

That soft, breathy voice rose up into a shriek when he was angry, high-pitched and cracking, and Ludwig realized that Ivan's beautiful voice was actually terrifying when he was angry. Hadn't ever heard anything so frightening, and it was enough to keep Ludwig still and silent there as Ivan ranted.

"I did everything I was supposed to! I love you! I really do, I can't stand the thought of you just leaving like that. Why did you come home with me if you were just gonna leave? I don't understand! You're the one, I'm sure of it! You can't leave, you can't! I asked you to stay!"

'I love you.'

How strange. No one had ever said that to him. Funny that it was now being said in that terrifying tone of voice.

Ivan kept on stalking around like an angry cat, eyes wide and brow low, looking so wrathful still, and then Ivan's fist raised up, for just a second, as if to strike out, and Ludwig couldn't help but brace defensively and flinch.

He flinched.

Ivan saw it, too, and maybe it was that flinch that made Ivan freeze up, made his hand lower and his brow lift. Made his stance loosen. Made his face fall.

Ivan came down to earth.

Immediately after, when Ivan's anger faded as randomly as it had come, he hung his head, reached out to grab Ludwig's wrist, and moaned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just— I don't want you to leave. I don't. I meant what I said, I do, I know you're the one I want. I didn't mean to yell at you. You just make me a little crazy."

Somehow, Ludwig was pretty sure that Ivan had always been a little crazy.

Couldn't seem to stay mad at Ivan, though, and his own anger was already dwindling, and so was the alarm. Seeing Ivan look so tired and downtrodden was rather distasteful. Before Ludwig could even say a word, Ivan had grabbed him around the chest and arms, squeezing him so hard that he couldn't breathe, and Ivan was so enthusiastic about this bear hug that he lifted Ludwig clean off the ground for a good minute.

And there went his ribs, thanks a bunch.

Good god, Ivan was about to fuckin' crush him. Those gigantic damn arms—

Ivan muttered, "Please, don't be mad at me, I didn't mean to yell at you."

Couldn't even breathe, let alone be mad.

Somehow, though, he squirmed around enough to free his arms just to where his hands managed to grab a hold of Ivan's belt.

A forced, muffled, gasping, "I'm not mad."

For his effort, he got another stifling squeeze, and then was finally put down. Air came back. Ivan was smiling again, if only a little, and in lieu of squeezing the life out of Ludwig, he reached down and took his hands again, clenching them instead.

Why couldn't he stop clenching and gripping?

Well. Ludwig supposed Ivan's way of showing affection was more like that of a little kid, who loved the puppy so much that they wanted to squeeze its head right off. Couldn't be mad about that either, and, when Ivan finally calmed down, as much as he was ever calm, anyway, he was quick to reach up and smooth down Ludwig's hair. Gently.

When Ivan spoke again, he said, "See? You make me crazy."

Likewise, perhaps. Because, for a while there, Ludwig really had thought about staying.

Couldn't be.

It was clear that Ivan couldn't really keep doing this, couldn't keep running all over the world after Ludwig, couldn't keep buying train tickets and living like that. Love was beautiful, it really was, but love didn't really live in the real world, and the real world demanded work and money and sacrifice. Ivan couldn't follow him anymore, and Ludwig couldn't stay. No getting around it anymore.

All Ludwig could do was grip Ivan's great hands within his own, run his thumbs over them, and say, with finality, "I have to go."

Reluctantly, Ivan finally seemed to accept it. No explosion that time. Just what seemed to be hurt. Moroseness. Ivan looked a bit devastated, and Ludwig hated the world for it.

A beautiful dream, but a dream all the same.

Had to end.

So he finally boarded the train later that day, and Ivan stayed below. Parting ways, after that walk in the clouds. One of the worst moments of his life. Hated leaving that man behind. He was the one, Ivan had said. No one had ever wanted him like that.

His stomach hurt.

At the last moment, just as Toris had, Ivan gave Ludwig a piece of paper with a number on it. Ludwig didn't even bother to look at it, eyes firmly on the ground as they were.

Ivan just whispered, thickly, "Please call me."

Ludwig nodded, but couldn't seem to look up.

Stepping onto the train. Walking to his cabin.

Ivan meandered along with him, until they were staring at each other from opposite sides of the window. Staring. That was all he could do now. Couldn't touch anymore. And even though they said it, it seemed clear enough to the both of them from the looks on their faces that calling just wasn't going to be enough. Not enough.

Ivan looked damn close to crying when the train started moving, and Ludwig felt rather nauseous. The pain in his stomach had crawled up into his chest. Honestly, he just wanted to jump out of the window and right into Ivan's arms, pathetic as that sounded. Didn't want to leave him behind like that. Not like that.

Then, suddenly, Ivan was gone. Ludwig slumped in his seat, turned his head straight ahead, and tried damn hard not to cry.

After that, it felt as it everything stopped.

The worst week of his life, being on that train without Toris. Without Ivan. Alone. Didn't even feel like looking around the cities anymore, and really only got off to stretch his legs and get some air. Spent most of his time curled up on his bed, burying his face in his pillow and trying not to cry. Didn't really speak to the passengers he ended up bunking with, upset as he was. Pitiful.

Missed Ivan. Wished he could have stayed.

The days dragged. The towns weren't so pretty anymore.

Just felt sick.

The ending came ever closer. Time seemed to slow.

Suddenly, Moscow. Moscow, once a place he had been the so excited to see, suddenly seemed like his worst nightmare. Didn't want to be here. After this, he would go back home. Alone, as he had always been.

Sat in his hotel in Moscow for those two days, and didn't once leave. Not once. Felt too sick to do so, too disheartened. He picked up the phone, once, on the last day, and called that number that Ivan had given him.

No answer. Ivan was probably still furious, or off drunk somewhere.

Didn't have the heart to call Toris. Wouldn't have been able to keep himself together, and he was too proud to start blubbering to Toris and bawl about how much he missed Ivan.

Two long days of absolutely nothing. Not even life. Before long, before he knew it, he was in the train station again, for the last time. Didn't even know how he had gotten there. Felt distressed and dazed. This train would take him home, back to Gilbert, and away from Ivan. Shouldn't have hurt so much to think about. He should have been happy to go home. Should have been happy to see Gilbert.

He wasn't.

The station was packed. Suffocating, as always, but maybe Ludwig found it more abhorrent than usual. He walked inside all the same, drifting here and there like a ghost, knowing where to go and what to do and yet feeling quite lost. A long minute of staring at the departure board, even though he already knew well his platform and time-table.

Honestly, maybe he was just hoping the train would be cancelled. For all the good that would do.

Felt like he was in that station for years. The suitcase was so damn heavy.

A voice over the haze. Thought he heard someone calling his name. A quick glance back, but he didn't see anything, as he expected he wouldn't, and turned heavy eyes back up to the screen.

Felt so tired.

"—wig!"

Agitation.

Oh, cancel, cancel, please cancel it.

"Ludwig!"

He was certain, that time. His name. He turned around again, and this time was absolutely flabbergasted. Shock. Utter shock. Someone had been calling his name alright. Ivan. Ivan was in the station, pushing through people and steadily closing in on him.

By god. Ivan.

Ludwig was so dumbstruck that all he could do was just stand there and let Ivan catch up to him. Couldn't even believe it. Ludwig couldn't fuckin' believe it. Where had Ivan even come from? Was this even real? Was this batshit crazy man even real? Was this happening?

And then Ivan was in front of him, Ivan, who he thought he would never see again.

Ivan.

Stupefied.

It was freezing, absolutely freezing, and Ivan wasn't even wearing a coat. Just a thin shirt, and those same ugly cargo pants he had worn the day he had fallen into Ludwig's cabin the first time. Pale as was possible, hair messy and unshaven. Looked half-dead, honestly. Almost hadn't recognized him, he looked so terrible.

Ludwig, dumbstruck and heart pounding so hard that he could barely breathe, asked, "What are you doing here?"

Ivan swayed, dangerously, and even from where he stood Ludwig could smell the vodka. Drunk as could be. Probably hadn't stopped drinking since Ludwig had left Novosibirsk, come to think. A six day vodka binge. Surprised Ivan was even able to stand at all.

A stumble forward, as Ivan came up to him and staggered to a halt a good foot away.

Dreaming, surely.

"I'm sorry," Ivan finally slurred, drunk as he was, as he struggled to stay upright. "I followed you. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see you. I didn't want you to leave. Wish you'd stay. I got on a plane to come see you. I wish you would stay."

As if to prove it, Ivan had fished around in his pants and produced his plane ticket, nearly tottering over and falling as he did so. Ludwig glanced at it, but found he couldn't keep his eyes off of Ivan for too long.

Ivan had followed him all the way to Moscow.

Hands were suddenly around his, right there in the middle of the train station, as if Ivan suddenly just didn't care anymore about all of the people around them, and honestly it was only Ivan's huge stature and Ludwig's own rather impressive one that kept people from sending them anything more than strange looks.

A look of outright, absolute misery as Ivan ducked his head and squinted his eyes. Hadn't ever seen someone look so miserable.

As he had once before, Ivan suddenly moaned, "Please, please stay."

Oh. Why couldn't Ivan understand? He couldn't stay. Why did he have to drag this out? Why did he have to make this hurt so much more than it needed to? Ludwig just wanted him to understand.

A dumb, slow shake of Ludwig's head.

Ivan's face somehow became ever the more miserable, and he whispered, again, "Please."

Hated it. Hated everything about this.

Ivan was a little crazy, yeah, but damn if something about him wasn't charming, even now as he looked so distraught. Entrancing. Toris had been right; there wasn't anything sadder than a love-sick Russian, and Ivan did indeed look like his world was coming to an end. Ivan looked like he could have keeled over and died from misery right there, and Ludwig couldn't really handle seeing that expression.

Pitiful.

But he had to go. Had to. Couldn't stay anymore. Couldn't just up and stay here, out of nowhere. Everything he did in his life, he planned months or years in advance. Didn't do anything without planning it. Didn't embark on any endeavor without making lists and preparations. He had planned this journey, up until this very moment. This was the end, the end of his list, the end of his planning, and he had to go. Couldn't stay, even if Ivan had flown halfway across the biggest country in the world on the off-chance of finding him.

Saying goodbye then was the hardest thing he had ever done, because it was the second time.

The second time was the worst.

Took him so long, so long, to finally look up, meet Ivan's eyes, and say it.

"Goodbye."

Ivan's eyes squinted, his brow furrowed, he sucked in a breath, and then he hung his head. Didn't say it in return. Probably couldn't talk, and, finally, Ivan managed only to nod his head. The grip on his hands slackened, and then vanished altogether as Ivan's arms dropped back down to his sides rather heavily. A long silence, and then Ivan exhaled, turned around unsteadily, and started stumbling his way back towards the exit.

Ludwig watched him until he was gone, and then made his own unsteady way out to the platform.

Dazed.

Tracks. Signs above. Letters. Numbers. Times. Couldn't read it, suddenly. The train came up. Grinding to a halt.

Stifled.

The announcement. The doors opened.

Daylight. Seemed so pale. Reality seemed so far away.

People started piling into the train.

And the more Ludwig thought about it, the more and more it kept on running through his mind.

Planning.

Well, maybe he didn't really plan everything. He had planned this trip, sure, had planned every aspect and every detail, right down to the sights he would see in each city and at what times. But he hadn't planned on making friends with Toris. That hadn't been planned. Hadn't planned on breaking his list of things to do to go walking around in circles with Toris. That had just happened, and he had gone along with it because it had felt good to have a friend, even if that hadn't been planned.

Hadn't planned on Ivan. Hadn't planned on meeting that man, on interacting with that man, hadn't planned on letting that man romance him, and certainly hadn't ever planned to fall in love, but that had had happened anyway, and Ludwig had gone along with all of that too because that had felt even better than Toris' friendship. Hadn't planned on letting Ivan get under his skin. Hadn't planned on wanting to be near that man. Hadn't planned on being anyone's anything.

In a way, the best things that had happened on this journey were the things he hadn't planned.

The best things.

Ivan.

Couldn't move, suddenly. He stood there, ticket in hand, and fell dumbly still. People pushed past him, irritated, and muttered at him in Russian. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the will to take that first step.

And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, he was the last person standing on the platform.

Ivan was so nearby.

His ticket felt so heavy. Just paper. Felt more like a brick. The guy standing up above blew his whistle in warning, and then looked down at Ludwig in annoyance, and finally snipped, "Well? Aren't ya gettin' on? Hurry up if you're gettin' on. We're leaving."

Ludwig looked up at him, and tilted his head.

It hit him, then. Like a rock, actually. So hard that he actually felt a pang in his chest. That he didn't want to go. That he wasn't going.

He felt himself take a step back, and then another, and finally, he looked up at the man and shook his head. Another look of annoyance, a roll of eyes and a sigh, and then the train shut its doors. For the first time, Ludwig had missed his train, and it had been intentional. He didn't recognize himself anymore. Ludwig remained below, very much alone on the platform when the train started pulling out.

He hadn't planned that, either. That had just happened, that sudden refusal.

He wasn't leaving.

Stood there for a while, dumbly, before he managed to backtrack. Dizzy. Without consciously deciding to, he found himself outside the station, in the cold air, breath puffing before him, looking for Ivan.

Didn't take too long to find him.

Ivan had just collapsed down onto a bench outside the train station, probably too drunk and too sad to get much farther, arms resting on his knees as his hands hung down between his legs, head bowed and staring at the sidewalk, hair whipping into his eyes with the wind. His shoulders were shaking. Looked like he was trying very hard to just die of misery right there, and seemed very upset that he wasn't succeeding.

Somehow, that thought made Ludwig smile.

That guy, that huge man, struck down like that by a simple thing called love. Ivan had been done in, it seemed.

Ludwig wandered over, somewhat dreamily, set his suitcase down on the ground, and felt himself sitting down there on the bench. Felt a little surreal, honestly. Staring at Ivan in utter silence.

It took Ivan a long while to finally raise his head, and when he lifted his bleary eyes and saw Ludwig sitting there beside of him, his face crumpled completely and he dissolved into tears. Hadn't expected that, exactly, and so when Ivan bowed his head back down, eyes squinted and lips pursed, Ludwig sat there and let him cry it out.

Big oaf. This man.

Didn't say a word as Ivan sat there and cried, because he didn't really need to. Wouldn't know what to say, anyway.

Took a few minutes for Ivan to gather himself back up, and when he looked over at Ludwig again, he whispered, thickly, "Are you really staying?"

Well. Looked like it. He'd missed his damn train.

After a moment, Ludwig nodded. Ivan's face scrunched again, and he cried a little more.

Ludwig was pretty sure he was in love. Almost couldn't help it, the way Ivan was. Hard not to love him. Had never in his life met a man quite like this. Hadn't ever met such a strange, emotional, insane human being. Certainly a refreshing change to his dull, monotonous life.

Ivan laughed or sobbed, sounded the same, and was still very much struggling to uncrumple his face and look at Ludwig for more than a second at a time.

When he finally spoke, all he said was, "I'm happy."

Sure didn't look it, but Ludwig had no doubt that Ivan bawling his eyes out meant he was the happiest he had been in a long time.

Ludwig just said, in response, "You better be. I don't have anywhere to go now."

Ivan finally managed to look at him long enough to smile, if not blearily, and say, "Yeah you do."

Guess that was Ivan's second (or third?) invitation to come live with him. And, well, why not? He could stay with Ivan for a while, he supposed. Try to get his visa extended. Look for a job. Hang out for a while in Russia. Stay with Ivan. How strange. None of this had been planned. Somehow, that made it even better.

"Well," Ludwig finally said, "Time to go, I guess. Let's get up."

He reached down, grabbed Ivan's shirt, and tried his damn best to haul Ivan upright. He did so, but keeping him standing was harder than getting him up. Drunk as Ivan was, he couldn't keep his balance for very long, and they only made it into the train station before Ivan tottered backwards onto the floor with a grunt. Ludwig would have been embarrassed if he hadn't seen his fair share of Russian yoga, as it was, in his time out here, and he finally decided that it would be easier just to buy the tickets himself and leave Ivan there on the floor for a while.

Didn't make it far.

"Where are you going?" Ivan asked from behind, reaching out clumsily to grab at his pant-leg, somewhat fearfully, and it was clear by the look on his face that he thought maybe Ludwig had just been teasing him.

Wouldn't ever have done that.

"Buying tickets," he replied, quite easily.

Was about out of money. Ivan was too much trouble.

Again, Ivan asked, "Where are you going?"

This time, Ludwig answered, "Well. Don't you live in Novosibirsk? Or are you going back to Vladivostok?"

Ivan stared up at him, and asked, maybe hopefully even against the slur, "How many tickets?"

By then, Ludwig was trying very hard not to smile, and his voice was strained from keeping it together when he said, "Two. Or do you have someone else you need to invite?"

Just like that, every tense muscle in Ivan slumped, he collapsed against the wall, and he was actually smiling again. Good. Loved seeing him when he was happy.

So Ludwig walked on, went to the ticket-counter, and ordered the tickets back to a place he was sure he had left behind for good.

He was surprised, and yet not, when drunk Ivan suddenly came marching up from behind, stumbling over his own feet, and was quick to snatch Ludwig's wallet right out of his hand with a stern, "What are you doing? I told you I pay for everything."

Ludwig complied, because that was all anyone could ever really do around thick-headed Ivan.

Sure was happy, though, when they were suddenly back on the train, this time heading straight back where Ludwig had just come from. Felt damn good to have Ivan sitting next to him, sleeping upright and head on Ludwig's shoulder as he recovered from drunkenness.

And then he was in Novosibirsk again.

Again.

Hadn't planned any of this.

This time, when Ivan held open the door to his house, when Ludwig walked inside, when he put his suitcase down on the floor, he had every intention of staying. For a while. Ivan no doubt thought it was for forever, and hell, if he played his cards right, maybe it would be. None of this was planned, so the ending was quite open to possibility.

When Ivan came up behind him, wrapping arms around his chest and burying his face in Ludwig's hair with soft whispering, Ludwig reached up, grabbed his forearms, and smiled. Felt content. At home.

Only one thing left to do, then.

So he wobbled his way over to the phone as best he could for heavy Ivan dragging him down, picked it up, punched in a number as Ivan carried on nuzzling his hair like he'd never touched another human being before in his life, and when the call connected, Ludwig smiled.

"Allo?"

Took a second for Ludwig to find words, and when he spoke, his voice was so high with excitement that he hardly recognized it as his own. Couldn't help it, not with how happy he felt. Not with the way Ivan was kissing the back of his neck. Not at being here. With this man.

What Ludwig finally said was simple, and self-explanatory.

"Toris! So, guess where I am."

Toris had known all along that this would happen, hadn't he? Those words he'd said to Ludwig that day : 'You're his now. Nice knowin' ya.'

Ivan's, now. Hadn't ever been quite this happy.

And, sure enough, Toris just laughed.

"I knew it!"

That was all that Toris and Ludwig got to say to each other, because Ivan had yanked the phone out of Ludwig's hand, slammed it down, and the next thing Ludwig knew, Ivan was suddenly kicking down the bedroom door. Like with everything else, Ludwig just went along with it.

Like Gilbert had said...

He was crazy.