#hdoodles

Artemi’s been watching the storm roll in for a while now, a wall of dark clouds creeping in from over the ocean. Sitting on the floor on the balcony of Vladi’s new place, he hugs his knees and wonders if this is what the start of a hurricane looks like. He’s caught the back end of a few in New York, but Florida is different, he knows. 

He doesn’t regret missing the parade, because regret implies he would have done something differently if he had the chance, and he’s pretty sure only contractual obligation for his own cup parade could keep him from running his master class with the kids. Still, he wishes it could have worked out differently- that he could have made it, that he could have celebrated Vladi’s accomplishment with a huge crowd, that it wouldn’t have ripped his guts out to do so. 

He blinks at the first few raindrops that land in his hair, nose, arms, the tops of his feet, but doesn’t budge yet. The water is warmer than he’s used to rain being, but still quite cool compared to the muggy air. Bob had sent him pictures from their waterlogged parade. Artemi had laughed at the sight of his skinny friend soaked to the bone, wearing little more than a water-sheered flag as a cape and a pair of shorts that were trying to fall right off of him. Even now, as rain dots his shirt, it brings a smile to his face. He’d laughed to see his best friend so clearly and publicly hammered, to see Vladi hugging and hollering at him, to see all the little tells of Vladi being just as hammered in his own right but also better at hiding it. 

It was a little surreal to watch clips of it happening hours later on spotty wifi in a cabin on the other side of the world. He’d wished Vladi was there. He was glad that he wasn’t. 

Behind him, the door to Vladi’s bedroom slides open. His shirt is starting to cling to his skin. “Temka, come in from the rain, lunch is ready- Don’t tell me you’re pouting because I kicked you out of the kitchen.” There’s warmth wrapped around the note of concern in Vladi’s voice. The rain is starting to come down harder, almost musical in how it melts into the waterway behind the house, turning the marina into a symphony of tiniest splashes. 

“Was it like this for the parade?” There’s a beat. His hair is already fully soaked, clinging to itself in waving tendrils too heavy to curl anymore. It might be miserable if it weren’t as warm as it is. 

“I was more drunk for the parade and we had the benefit of ponchos, but if we’re just talking weather, yeah.” Artemi wants to turn around, but something about the dark sky and the sway of beautiful boats at their docks holds his gaze. “...Are you alright?” There’s a soft pat-pat of bare feet stepping onto wet concrete, then the door slides shut. 

“I’m okay, yeah. I just-” He rolls his eyes at himself. “I wish I could have made it somehow.” Saying it out loud feels limp and cliched in a way he doesn’t know how to describe in either language he knows. 

“I’m proud of what you were doing while you were missing it, though,” Vladi hums. He steps next to Artemi, and Artemi doesn't resist the urge to lean his head against Vladi’s hip. A heavy hand cards through his hair, pushing rivulets of water down the back of his neck, mingling with the rainfall already running there. Finally, he looks up to see a soft and fond smile pointed at him, blinking up through the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. The hand on his head slides off and turns over, an easy offer. Artemi accepts, taking the hand and getting tugged nearly effortlessly to his feet. It still gives him giddy little butterflies.

“And I could have never lived with myself if I hadn’t gone, but still. You deserved to have someone there with you- for you. A cute little wifey to bring on the bus like the other guys to kiss you silly when you weren’t kissing the cup or waving to fans… or getting fucking blasted.” He means to look Vladi in the face, but his eyes get stuck for a moment on how the now-heavy rain has Vladi’s shirt draping almost coyly over the contours of his chest. He’s a simple man with simple needs. 

“You’re so smart, why are you being dumb?” The bluntness makes Artemi bark a laugh, finally meeting eyes that look extra gray against the storm. Vladi looks amused but puzzled, like he’s waiting on the punchline of a joke with a long setup. “Why would I want a ‘cute little wifey’ when I have you? There’s nothing I need that you don’t give me.”

Artemi opens his mouth to argue, to support himself with logic, but it’s hard to draft a compelling rebuttal to that. What’s he going to do, tell Vladi what he does and doesn’t need? “There should have been someone there to kiss you in the rain.” It sounds almost lame. He sets a hand on Vladi’s chest, spreading his fingers across the width of a pec. His eyes flick to watch the broad hand that cups his elbow, then slips up to grab at his tricep. 

“Baby, I’m not sure if you’ve looked at the sky lately, but…” The hand on his arm urges him closer and a laugh bubbles out of him. Vladi’s hair looks dark, stuck to his forehead, handsomely unruly as it ever is. He draws as flush with Vladi as he can get, the cold press of soaked clothes made less miserable by the warmth of the body beyond them. 

“It’s still not a parade.”

“You wouldn’t have kissed me at the parade anyway.” Vladi’s other hand slips to cradle the base of his skull, equally comforting and demanding. Artemi bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a smile. He supposes he can admit that his guilt won’t do either of them any good. 

The wind picks up around them, a staticky sort of tingle up Artemi’s spine says they should go inside soon before things get too much worse, but for the moment it’s refreshing- exhilarating, almost- in the meantime. His fingers curl into the soaked fabric of Vladi’s shirt, feeling the excess water squeezed out even with the deluge running across his skin. A soft sigh curls out of him when the tip of his nose brushes Vladi’s, relaxing into what feels like an inevitability. 

Vladi’s lips press firm and pleading to his, exposing the craving he’d downplayed. Artemi’s hand twists in Vladi’s shirt, pulling it closer, as if there’s any space left between them they could possibly close. Somewhere still far off, a roll of thunder clears its throat and it feels like no one exists outside of them. One starving kiss dissolves into smaller, softer things, still begging and at the same time grateful. Artemi can feel how Vladi shifts the weight in his feet from how the hands on him adjust, as if he could step any closer. It’s risky being out here, but a gust sends violent ripples through the flags on all of the nearby boats and it’s hard to imagine anyone else dumb enough to be outside with them. 

It’s why he doesn’t stop Vladi when scarred lips start to wander from the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, down the length of his neck. Vladi’s tongue traces back up toward his ear, lapping at the rainwater rolling along a tendon. It starts a shiver in Artemi strong enough for Vladi to feel. The soft noise that escapes him is swallowed by the storm, but Vladi can still feel the flex of Artemi’s throat under his tongue. 

The next brush of the wind leaves goosebumps blooming across nature-bronzed skin, fighting another shudder. The rain is warm the way the ocean is in late spring, still so vulnerable to the breeze. The hand that isn’t gripping Vladi’s shirt tries to grab for his waistband, but between the heavy hang of soaked fabric and the shake in Artemi’s fingers, it’s a struggle. For a split second, he thinks maybe Vladi hasn’t noticed, until he feels the hand at the back of his head slip to the base of his neck. 

“We should probably go inside,” Vladi mumbles against his skin, trying to muster some resolution. 

“Didn’t you make lunch?” Artemi doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to move. They both startle at a bright streak of lightning arcing across the sky. They still don’t move. 

“You’re really going to like it, too.” Vladi straightens to press another, marginally more chaste kiss to Artemi’s lips, as if he’s decided on something. Artemi doesn’t mention it, but he agrees with the decision.

“But then after-?” He stretches his fingers, releasing Vladi’s shirt.

“After, yes.” Vladi’s hand glides easily from Artemi’s tricep down to catch his hand, leading him back in as if he needs the guidance. 

Artemi has the decency to close the curtains to the balcony before he strips out of his sopping wet clothes, motioning for Vladi to join him in wringing their clothes out and draping them around the rim of the tub to drip dry. Vladi digs towels out of a linen closet- for their waists, for their hair, a particularly fluffy one for Artemi to wrap around his shoulders to warm up. Artemi snickers watching Vladi futz with the app on his phone that controls the lights, brightening the kitchen up a bit to compensate for the lack of natural light (lightning aside). Lunch is simple, but Vladi was right- Artemi really likes it. 

They chat as they eat, airy and casual, but with eyes full of promise. Vladi is shameless in letting his eyes drag over Artemi’s skin, Artemi offers a filthy wink in return when he takes a particular luxurious bite and slides his tongue along his fork. The sound of thunder rolling and sharp, distant and close, fill the house. 

Artemi tries to clear the dishes once they’re finished, the natural consequence of being cooked for, only to feel the towel yanked from his waist. He half-jumps and nearly slips on the pristine floor, cracking up once he realizes what’s happened. He pulls the towel from his head off of his drying curls and hucks it at Vladi as well for the sake of retaliation. 

“Dishes can wait. Please.” The desperation so plain on his face is endearing. 

Vladi’s just turned the lights off, walking back up the stairs to the bedroom when he gets an alert on his phone for the storm raging against the windows. Not a hurricane, but severe nonetheless. He almost speaks up to let Artemi know, but then lets himself get distracted by Artemi’s ass as he follows it up to his room. Not important. 

Artemi has the patience to wait until Vladi is in the bedroom with him to refer the favor in snatching his towel off. It's dark in a way that feels safe, close, comfortable, that makes Vladi feel just a bit less exposed. He would wonder if it was intentional if it was anyone else, but it's Artemi. Of course it's on purpose. As if he could ever give this up in favor of a “little wifey.” The towels are tossed unceremoniously into the bathroom with their clothes. Vladi's thoughts drift so briefly to what clothes he might loan to Artemi later, but toned arms ring his waist and pull him back into the moment. 

“So are we going to warm each other back up or what?” The tip of Artemi's nose brushes his and Vladi can feel Artemi’s breath against his lips, daring him to chase, to take what he wants. 

The parade is so far from Vladi's mind. What parade could give him this? Artemi arches under him, still cracking jokes here and there even between hitched breaths and whispered pleas for more. Vladi laughs with him despite himself, even as sweat gathers on his forehead and bitten nails dig into his broad shoulders. It's worth the absence, the time apart, the distance and the travel days and the hundreds of “I miss you” texts for these moments that feel like the last puzzle piece pressed triumphantly into place. He doesn't need an on-ice victory kiss when Artemi has him grinning like a fool while lithe legs wrap around his waist and pull him in deeper. 

A clap of thunder shakes the house and they can hear the power flicker in the interrupted hum of the AC. Artemi pays it no mind, instead grabbing for Vladi’s wrist to guide his hand to touch his dick, so close even with the scare. He can't catch his breath to make a witty crack about it anymore. Vladi's lips are back  on his neck and it's dizzying. Artemi’s toes curl and he gasps, wide-eyed and wordless, and almost hoarse sounds escape on his breath.

The last scraps of guilt over the parade are incinerated when Vladi purrs in his ear that Artemi is perfect and he's so fucking close in the same breath. 

Artemi is a mess when Vladi rolls off of him, spent and still catching his breath. A sturdy arm stays strapped across his chest, delicately avoiding the streaks of cum decorating his stomach. It's no worse than what's leaking out of him at present, but he gets it. A kiss that's melted like chocolate in the sun is pressed inaccurately toward his cheek, landing closer to his ear and hairline and it draws a laugh from him. 

“You may have had a point,” Vladi begins, trying to take a deep breath, “about how we should kiss in the rain more.”

“That's not what I said at all.” Artemi snorts and turns his head to Vladi, whose anyway narrow eyes are threatening to fall closed. It's tough to tell in the dim, but he smiles warm and soft just the same. 

“Mmm, tomato, potato,” shrugs in English, unbothered by butchering the adage. 

“That's not- whatever. Sure. Let's kiss in the rain more.” Vladi pulls him as close as he can, fitting him to the planes of his body with the ease of a child snuggling a teddy bear. They start to doze as sheets of rain wash the windows outside of their private little sanctuary.