#nikpriceweek

“We don’t have a leafblower do we?”

“I could—”

“No MacGyvering.”

“Nevermind,” Nikolai shut his mouth promptly.

John put his hands on his hips before taking a deep breath and walking off to the shoe cubby by the front door, lacing up his timbs with a silent stubbornness. “I’ll be out,” John said, waiting for Nikolai’s nod of acknowledgement before heading outside.

Nikolai waited until the front door clicked shut before reclaiming his spot on the couch. Shaking his head fondly, Nikolai retrieved the pencil from between the pages of his book and returned to where he had left off once again immersed in his book about how linguistics has shifted with the internet. John accused him of trying to connect with the youth. Nikolai argued he has liked linguistics from the day John met him.

A metallic creak drifted through the open window from somewhere out back. The shed, most likely. Did he ever get John to declutter that? Seconds later came the unmistakable sound of something falling over. Then a muffled curse. Apparently not. 

After a moment of no further disturbances, Nikolai returned to his reading, making another note in the margins beside a vaguely familiar word he'd heard the sergeants toss around.

Ask Kyle MacTavish

Though when Nik went to set his pencil aside, movement caught the corner of his eye. A blur of navy blue crossing the front yard. The handle of a rake jutting briefly above the hedges. John disappeared behind the oak tree only to reappear a moment later.

Nikolai found himself neglecting the pages in his lap.

John stood in the middle of the lawn, staring critically at the sea of fallen leaves as if evaluating a tactical problem. The rake was planted beside him, one hand rested on his hip as the other scratched at his beard.

Nikolai snorted.

There it was.

Nikolai looked down at his book to find it had already closed before he could mark the page. At least there was the note. 

He stared at the cover of the book, glanced back at John rolling his sleeves up back outside. Nik sighed as he set the book back on the coffee table and drifted over to the front window.

Outside, John had barely moved a leaf, gaze sweeping from one side of the yard to the other, letting Nik catch a glimpse of blue irises as his husband surveyed the place. When John started to march off to one side of their house, Nik retreated back to his room to grab his headphones and phone, tapping at it as he walked back over.

By the time he returned John had gripped the rake and gotten to work. The first few passes were aggressive enough to suggest John believed the leaves had personally wronged him. Before long, however, the movements settled into something steadier and the tension in John’s shoulders eased, scowl fading to a stern pout. 

Rake. Pull. Step. Repeat.

The monotony that would send so many away pulled John in— and in turn, Nikolai. Nik had been told he has a staring problem. He started to get what Kate meant now.

He watched the choreography where years of training drills and close encounters informed every step, every shift of weight. Watched the tactical mind in there churn with every mundane sweep, never powered down. The rhythm that communicated habit despite the unique happenstance of today. John never quite let his back face the open road. Always scanned his surroundings even doing yard work. Some parts of his job would always be woven into his mannerisms.

The real treat was when after a few times of tugging at the bottom of his shirt John finally set aside the rake to pull his sweater over his head. His shirt rode up to show a sliver of warm skin, abs just visible, decorated with a dusting of fur that led below his waistband. Unfortunately for Nikolai his husband was modest enough to tug the bottom of his shirt down and tie his sweater around his waist.

“Shame,” Nikolai muttered to the otherwise empty house. At some point he'd dragged the ottoman from the living room over to the front window. His chin now rested in his hand as he leaned against the window sill.

Slowly John built up small piles of leaves across the lawn, occasionally frowning when one stray leaf refused to yield to the tines of the rake. 

Rake. Pull. Step. Repeat.

The muscles beneath John's shirt shifted with every pull of the rake, fabric stretching across broad shoulders before relaxing again. Nikolai could still notice the slight hitch in John’s posture whenever he shifted his weight onto his left leg a hint too quickly. The limp was still there if you knew where to look but it was better than last week. Much better than two weeks ago.

From the sidewalk Nikolai saw a familiar silhouette move from concrete to grass.

Lusya.

Or at least that’s what he’s come to call her. The stray cat that roamed the neighborhood. John and Nik usually weren’t home for long enough periods to spot her much but with John being off for recovery the cat quickly found interest in the returning residents. She didn’t ever stay for long and had scampered off the one time John tried to feed her prosciutto but she wasn't unfriendly—just wary and a little rough around the edges. Sounds familiar.

The grey feline slinked over to John, tail held high and ears shifted forward as she approached. Lusya paused before the man, maintaining some distance away from the rake cautiously. Nikolai felt a grin tug at his mouth when she approached the man from behind once there was a pause in his movement. 

The second she brushed against John’s calf the man jumped, rake going one way as his head snapped down with a yelp of “Fuckin—! Christ…” which quickly turned into a defeated sigh as he looked down at the 6 pound cat that had his hand pressed against his belt where no holster sat. John felt all his dignity leave him as he carefully laid down on the grass, running his hands over his face with a deep breath.

Nikolai had seen it all.

He tried to be mature about it; he did. He covered his mouth as a small snort escaped. He tried to brush off his shoulders shaking and screwed his eyes shut.

And then he looked up to see a very deflated John lying in the grass. 

The laughter escaped him before he could even consider being civil. Not a polite chuckle but a full, helpless bark that had him folding forward against the sill, shoulders shaking as it rolled through him. Somehow each time he glanced up it got worse. He was sure John could hear his knuckles lightly thud against the glass.

When Nik was finally able to drag in a proper breath, his side aching from laughter, he was met with a very sour-looking John, sat up and making direct eye contact. Nikolai could barely muster a sheepish grin before he was flipped off.

Nik shook his head fondly before drawing back into the house— deciding it’s been too long since either of them ate and John had worked enough for now. A couple of dirty dishes later and a cutting board in the sink and he’s fixed up some BLT wraps for them, sneaking a bite of one before heading out to collect his husband.

As Nik’s closing the door behind him he gets hit with “You’re a proper perv,” from his oh-so beloved.

“And right as I was about to tell you I made lunch for us. Ungrateful,” he retorted immediately.

John sighed as the man approached, putting down the rake. “Whassit then?”

“Blt wraps.”

John nodded in approval. “Right well I’m ‘bout done here,” he declared as he placed his hands in his pockets and rolled on the balls of his feet.

The leaves seemed to be consolidated in three piles now. Two by the sidewalk and the other next to them by the side of the house.

“Looks good,” Nikolai hummed as he watched Lusya pounce into one of the piles only to emerge with a mouse. John’s long-suffering sigh told him this was not the first time the cat messed up his work.

“At least she finally caught somethin,” John murmured.

Nikolai nodded slowly as his tongue ran over his teeth, gaze still on the leaf pile she emerged from. “Not bagging them?” he finally asked.

“Keeping some.”

“For?”

“Garden. Compost ‘m thinking.”

“Ah.” “Don’t have any bags anyways.”

“Ah,” Nikolai corrected his tone as he glanced back over. “Well, still have two weeks to take care of it all.”

John’s eyes narrowed at the mention of that specific detail. “Nikolai…”

“Johnathan.”

“I swear to urf—”

John saw the leaves billow around them before his back hit the grass. Quickly it turned into wrestling in piles of leaves like teenagers, Nikolai attempting to restrain the other man as he snuck in the occasional kiss with each complaint from John.

“Worked all day—” John braced a forearm against Nik’s chest in an attempt to shove him off.

“An hour, two max,” Nikolai grabbed his wrist and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“An’ you watch me, not helping at all,” he continued to huff, bucking a leg up in an attempt to topple the man off him despite the smile on his lips.

Nik had to brace his hands against the grass to keep him from landing face-first, John already rolling them over with a thud. Though, he did manage to sneak a hand back to John’s nape, pulling him in for another kiss, this time nipping the man’s lower lip.

“Oi! Randy cunt,” John chuckled as he shifted. Eventually John had Nikolai pinned down, straddling his waist and hands holding down his wrists. John was a sight above him. A little breathless, hair a mess now that his beanie had fallen off, blue eyes shimmering alight with smug satisfaction.

“Are you ever going to actually come inside and eat the food I made us?”

“In a second,” John answered as he leaned down to finally kiss Nik properly.

“Indecent,” Nikolai hummed when they pulled away.

“Suppose so,” Nikolai shrugged as he stood up. He walked over to the front of the cabin, opening the door. He looked at the snow still falling lightly, looking up at the clouds in the sky as well. He took a few steps out as he looked up at the sky. “Looks like it will continue snowing overnight. Hopefully will be settled and safe for pickup in the morning,” Nikolai called over his shoulder as he examined the weather.

Price watched him, his eyes following the Russian man as he moved around the cabin. The man was tall, too fucking tall, bit broader built than himself and seemingly all knowledgeable on weather patterns. Meteorology. Whatever it fucking was. “Great. Sounds like we’re stuck here all night then,” he said sarcastically.

Nikolai hummed in agreement before returning. “The snowing is light as is, it will probably become steadier at night,” he evaluated, clearly not only having knowledge but experience of weather like this. “I will check the rest of the cabin for more firewood. If I find none we may have to put out the fire until night or get wood outside.”

Price grunted in response, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the Russian man move about. Every sweep across his surroundings with those dark eyes was quick, practiced even. Posture wasn’t as stiff as typical military types. Special forces? MacMillan only introduced the Russian as an agent. Fixer. 

…Not much to go on.

“G’won,” he muttered after a moment of silence. He knew Nikolai wasn’t asking for permission anyway. “Just don’t manage to get yourself frozen or stuck. Can only handle so many bloody rescues today…” he ran a hand down his face. 

“So you would rescue me. To think this is our first mission,” Nikolai responded with a cheeky smile before retreating further into the cabin, leaving Price with that. 

Price let out a long exhale as he watched Nikolai walk off deeper in the cabin, disappearing around a corner. 

This man was going to be a handful, wasn’t he? 

Either way it'd been a while since someone outside his own team had actually joked with him. Most operators stuck to clipped professionalism around Lieutenant Price. If they stayed around long enough, they usually got on better with everyone else. Not brusque, prickly John. Yet here Nikolai was, six hours into meeting, already taking the piss.

Price faintly heard a shuffle down the hall, the shift of furniture, a quiet curse in Russian if he had to guess based on the tone. Eventually, about fifteen minutes of waiting later, Nikolai returned with a few chopped logs, walking them over and setting them near the fireplace. 

“Not nearly enough but it is a start,” Nikolai sighed before looking to the door and murmuring to himself in Russian.

“Better than nothing I suppose,” John tilted his head in agreement, biting the inside of his cheek as he glanced around the cabin again. Though, he did a double take when he heard Nikolai speak in Russian. “Whattdjya say?” he hummed as he cast a glance over his shoulder.

“Надо принести ещё дров, пока снег не усилился.” Nikolai repeated himself then added in English, "We should grab more wood before the uh- snow picks up."

Price nodded in agreement, his eyes flicking towards the window, shifting slightly as he watched the snow continue to fall, starting to get restless. He stood up and brushed off his clothes before looking back to Nikolai. “I’m coming with you,” he said firmly, his blue eyes steeling with conviction.

One of Nikolai's brows arched, and his smile widened just a hint, but he didn’t protest. “Are you sure? Your clothes just dried, no?” he asked as he crouched by the fire, adjusting it with the poker.

“They’ll dry again. I’m not staying here while you do all the work,” he responded flatly, folding his arms over his chest.

“Alright,” Nikolai shrugged as he grabbed the blanket Price had around him and placed it by the mouth of the fireplace, removing it to reveal only a dwindling ember left. He brushed the ash off the blanket before tossing it on the couch. “Let’s go then, before it gets worse,” Nikolai continued as he walked to the door, grabbing the pistol he left by the windowsill.

Price’s gaze moved from the fireplace back to the Russian before he grabbed his own gun, double checking the mag before holstering it. Walking out the door it’s still as cold as can be, the ground covered by a few inches of snow, their footsteps from before no longer holding such an impression in the snow.

“Bloody hell, it’s freezing out here,” Price grumbled as he pulled his beanie down over his ears, breath coming out in visible puffs in front of him.

“Uh no shit, as the Americans say,” Nikolai chuckled before taking the first step into the snow, already making his way to the treeline without much issue, hardly being slowed down.

Price rolled his eyes but followed nonetheless. He’s trying to keep pace, show he doesn’t need the smug Russian’s help, but the man’s moving like a fucking snow leopard while Price had to stop himself from slipping on some ice under his boot. He wanted to strangle the man when he saw his stupid grin over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Ruski. Not all of us were born in Siberia.”

“Rostov-on-Don actually, notably not in Siberia,” Nikolai smiled before pointing to a branch that had been taken down by the avalanche. “Should be dry by now,” he hummed as he made his way over.

“Good spot,” Price admitted as he trudged over, albeit slightly begrudging.

“Da, you bring it back to the cabin in the uh snow path thing we made,” Nikolai gestured where they had come from.

“You know,” Price smirked as he moved to grab a large section of the branch, “for someone who supposedly speaks perfect English, you still stumble over shit.” His tone is teasing between breaths as he starts to lug the soon to be firewood back to the cabin.

“English has very basic terms for this all and it is very… odd to adjust to,” Nikolai explained as he moved to grab another fallen branch. “Every language has its different categorizations but you call a lot of this just snow. All of it snow. Snow falling? Snowing. A lot of snow falling? Snowstorm.”

“Blizzard,” Price corrected as he continued to drag his branch in the snow, pulling it a bit closer to not get caught on Nikolai’s. “You Russians and your complicated words,” he hummed wryly.

“You English and your simpleton words,” Nikolai teased back with a smile that finally reached his eyes. The two dragged the branches back to the doorstep of the cabin before pausing. Nikolai looked back at the trees then back to their branches before sighing. “Probably need a few more. Three more similarly sized should be enough for tonight.”

“Right. Can’t even get stuck in the bloody woods without chores,” Price huffed. “I hope you know when we get back inside I am leaving the fire to you and checking for food. Could well use the space…” Price grumbled under his breath as he set out again.

“Uh huh. Going to need the space still when it gets dark? Only have one trauma blanket, after all.”

“Pish off.”

“Not the most wise suggestion, Lieutenant. Doubt your own body heat would be enough,” Nikolai muttered with a smirk as he set off to look around a few other trees.

“We’ll manage, I’m not fucking cuddling you on your first op,” Price scoffed as he followed Nikolai’s path in the snow with a scowl.

“Then I will cuddle up to you,” Nikolai said far too confidently before checking around some more trees, scanning the forest as he went a bit deeper. Eventually he let out a clipped sigh as he realized the rest of the wood wouldn’t be as easy as some fallen branches. Though he did see a cracked branch hanging low off a tree and pointed it out to Price. “You see if you can rip that off. I’ll start getting bark if that is it,” he instructed as he got out his knife.

Price only nodded in response before heading over, checking his surroundings before giving the branch a yank. It had some give. After shaking off some of the snow on it the lieutenant grabbed it with both hands, pulling it as efficiently as he could at the awkward angle. It took a few minutes but eventually there was a loud crack and Price was able to pull it off with a slight twist.

“Good job, Lieutenant...!” Nikolai called over where he was stripping a fallen tree of its bark, the whole thing too big to bring back. “Bring it back to the cabin, I will return shortly,” He said before adding “I can tell you are eager to be back in the warmth.”

“Yer right about that,” Price nodded as he started the track back. They really weren’t far from the cabin, within close sight. But the cold had started to seep into his bones and his breath was coming out in pants. He considered stopping to take a breath but… yeah no. The sooner they got the fire up and running again, the better. He hoped Nikolai couldn’t see his shivers.

When Price finally got back to the meager wooden porch Nikolai was busy trying to claim another branch. From a distance Price could see the Russian stab his knife into the branch before turning it. Price could hear the crack of the wood in the otherwise quiet space. This went on for another minute as the stubborn branch clung on before Nikolai sighed, only to wrap his arms around the branch and hang on it. They both came down with a loud snap. Nearby birds scattered and the Lieutenant was almost concerned until Nikolai’s head popped up from the snow a moment later, shaking off the snow like a dog.

It was almost cute.

“You really are one of a kind, y’know that?” he called over.

Nikolai’s head snapped over in an instant, face flushed, though whether it was from the weather or embarrassment was hard to tell. Likely both. Either way, he huffed and looked away, brushing himself off properly before bringing in his hard-earned haul, the piece of tree noticeably larger than the others brought in. “I didn’t realize I was being watched,” Nikolai muttered as he approached Price.

“I didn’t realize I was working with a brute,” Price commented as they both started to bring in the wood, knowing the descriptor was probably far from the truth from what he’s seen so far.

Nikolai sighed with a roll of his eyes as he brought the branches to the empty corner by the door, taking Price’s too and setting them down. Nikolai still had flecks of white in his jet black hair, seemingly unbothered by it as he surveyed the cabin again, now with the new wood, muttering something to himself in Russian as his gaze flicked from the fireplace to their new wood stock.

As Price moved to the cabin’s ratty kitchenette he heard Nikolai over his shoulder. “You know,” he began as he closed another empty cabinet, “if you’re going to keep talking in Russian, I might think you’re hiding something.”

“Not all things are worth the effort of translating,” Nikolai responded as he sat down next to the pile of wood and began snapping off some of the smaller pieces on the branches, Price scowling at some moldy granola in the meantime. “I was just thinking aloud about breaking these down to fit in the fireplace.”

“Right,” Price sighed as he closed the last cabinet, walking over to help with the task. “It suits you,” Price said suddenly as he sat down next to the other man, “speaking in Russian, that is.”

Nikolai looked over at Price with an odd look, smiling nonetheless, “I'd sure hope it does,” he said with a slight chuckle in his words as he continued to break down their newly acquired firewood, bringing his knife out to split some of the larger chunks.

“You know what I mean,” Price rolled his eyes as he tried avoiding splinters.

"Пожалуй, мне спокойнее, когда я говорю на по-русски," Nikolai replied, his voice noticeably softer, his words flowing much more effortlessly than they ever did in English. “It just... comes easier, I suppose. English is only my third... no, fourth language I know”

“Four? Christ, it’s like you're trying to show off.” Nikolai only shrugged. “What’re the others? French? Italian? Y’ seem like the sort.”

“Russian, German, Polish, English, Italian, Spanish are my primary ones. Though I do know a good bit of Polish and Turkish. I also know phrases in many others,” Nikolai answered calmly. “I would say I’m fluent in six though,” he said as he split another piece of wood with his knife. “Only English for you I assume?”

Price felt like he was recovering from a flashbang. He was glad he didn’t nick himself. “Yeah, yeah mostly English. Can manage some Arabic on ops but that’s it,” he nodded, feeling sufficiently outdone yet again. “What’dya need the Turkish and Polish for though?”

“Not all of us work exclusively in western Europe, Lieutenant,” Nikolai retorted with an amused huff. “Though those two were also the ones I pursued when I was younger. Just never really committed to them. Many languages in Russia that aren’t Russian are related to them, especially Turkish. Tartar, for example, has I think four million speakers in Russia and that’s a Turkish language,” Nikolai analyzed. “So that’s why I learned them,” he answered, not really revealing why he learned them per se. 

“Huh. Must’a have one hell of an education.” Price estimated as he put his knife away.

“I did,” Nikolai hummed simply with a nod. “Especially about Russia and its history, though a good amount was still… uh… give me a moment." Nikolai went quiet before muttering to himself in Russian again under his breath. “Misrepresented? I think works… by the Soviets when I was a kid. Washed over by the gleam of propaganda.”

“Yeah,” Price exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You think you saw through it?”

“Not… at first. But the fact it all fell by the time I was twelve helped. Helped me look outside myself.”

“Didn’t think you were old enough for that,” Price chuckled. “What was that all like?” he asked casually.

Nikolai stiffened, however. “Bad,” he admitted bluntly. “Not a story worth telling.”

Price looked Nikolai over, his sudden defensiveness, the way he now gripped his knife tightly, his eyes drifted off to the side. “You wanna start up the fire?” he offered.

Nikolai was already moving by the time he finished his sentence. The fire was roaring again in no time, Nikolai tossing in one of the few precut logs they had left as the light slowly illuminated the room. The Russian sat up on the ground, looking around the shabby living area of the cabin before sighing and shucking off his jacket for the first time today, resting it on a ratty couch cushion before leaning his head back against it, his exhaustion seeming to finally hit after the whirlwind that was today.

Looking back outside the snow was starting to pick up and the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. It wouldn’t be long until it was dark and cold. Nikolai looked exhausted and less… put together without his jacket. Same guy, but for once Price didn’t feel like he was surviving this alone.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck here tonight. Didn’t find any food earlier,” Price said as he sat down next to the Russian. Motivational.

“We can go without further food for tonight. Though if someone does not show up for us by noon tomorrow, I’m killing something.” “Preferably not me.”

“Now that would be counterproductive,” Nikolai said as he shucked off his wet boots and set them not far from the fire. “Should get the blanket before it actually gets cool,” he nodded to the trauma blanket left on the couch.

Price got up to his feet and grabbed the blanket from the couch, shaking it out before folding it up into a relatively neat square. “So, how’re we going about sharing this?” he asked as he sat back down and handed it to Nikolai.

Nikolai blinked at him before taking the blanket, unfolding it, and pulling Price to his side with a firm arm around his torso, as he draped the blanket over both their laps. “I am not losing fingers because of your English shyness,” he said bluntly. “I think you underestimate how cold it will truly get. It is dark. And snowing. In a poorly insulated shack of a cabin. In Siberia.”

Price stiffened at the sudden closeness, shoulders hiking before easing back down again. “Right. So now I’m stuck plastered to your side,” he huffed as he adjusted slightly to get more comfortable.

“Correct,” Nikolai said as he pulled the cushions off the couch behind them and set them on the floor. “Really we should take off our pants since the bottoms are still a bit wet from snow. Though I doubt that would lead to much sleep, hm?”

Price let out a long exhale as he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking away from the Russian’s smirk and doing his best to ignore it. “Suppose we’re playing footsie then,” he muttered with a scowl as he watched Nikolai roll up the bottom of his pants. “We sleeping on the ground then?” Price nodded his chin to the disassembled couch cushions on the ground, taken from the seats and back

“You would rather us both try and fit on the couch?” Nikolai looked over with an unamused look.

Price opened his mouth before closing it again as he gave Nik a reluctant nod of “Yeah,” before grumbling, “Just… shut up and don't make it any weirder than it is,” as he laid down on the cushions.

Nikolai shook his head exasperatedly, grabbing a throw pillow before tucking it under his head and laying down, facing away from Price. “Goodnight, Lieutenant,” he said as he adjusted the thermal blanket over them both.

Price sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, feeling his irritation melt as he ran a hand over his face. The warmth was nice. “G’nite Nik,” he muttered before looking back to the fire and letting the crackle of wood burning distract him from the breaths of the man beside him and eventually lull him to sleep.

When Price came to consciousness again in the morning it was slow. He expected to feel the cold seeping back into his bones only to be met with a comfortable warmth around him, the whisper of chill on his face surprisingly comfortable as he let himself enjoy the soothing heat. He tightened his arm around his pillow as he focused on his breathing, still easy, still unlabored and matching the rise and fall of his pillow beneath him. His foot had snuck out from under the blanket, Price pulling it back in only for it to brush against Nikolai. Right, he was—

Price blinked awake. He didn’t move any further, frozen in place as he lifted his head ever so slightly to view his surroundings while praying the man beneath him didn’t wake. He was laying against Nikolai— no, nearly on him at this rate. He had an arm around the Russian’s midsection and must’ve had his head on the man’s chest when he was asleep. Fuck. Goddammit, what is he, some shallow woman in a romance novel?

Nikolai looked completely unbothered, an arm over his face as he breathed steadily, otherwise sprawled out beneath Price. Before the Lieutenant’s eyes could linger too long his brain was finally awake enough to tune the ambient white noise to realize his radio was buzzing actively across the room, static humming through it. 

Someone else was on the line. Someone was here to pick them up.

After a moment of hesitation he carefully extracted himself from Nikolai’s embrace, wincing at the cold wood under his socks as he moved to grab the radio. He heard a faint huff beside him but was now occupied with trying to find the channel the feed was coming from. Eventually it crackled with the station chief's voice. "Lieutenant? Lieutenant Price, do you read us?" they asked, sounding a mix between drained and concerned.

Price shook off his lingering exhaustion before responding. “Copy. Loud and clear,” in a firm tone.

“Christ…” the operator sighed "We have most the unit recovered in a lodge down the mountain. MacMillan and the SAR team are scouting for you, Robertson, and the Russian since the avalanche," they relayed. Of course they sent MacMillan to save our asses. "Can you give us any update back there? Location, status, the other men?"

“Yeah. I uh, I’ve got the Russian and we’re in some abandoned cabin I wanna say… east-southeast of the incident site maybe? Hard to tell.” When he glanced back over to Nikolai the man was rubbing his eyes tiredly with a yawn, having awoken when he was talking. He nodded at the Lieutenant’s assessment in confirmation, eyes blinking up at the lieutenant tiredly but not speaking.

"Right we'll be on the lookout," the operator responded over comms, "Let us know if anything changes."

“Copy that. We’ll keep you updated,” Price replied as he kept his eyes on the other man, watching carefully for any reaction to… well any of what happened since waking up.

Unfortunately, Nikolai was not as easy to read as his other teammates, simply stretching and rubbing his eyes before grabbing his boots and lacing them up.

"That was... HQ?" Nikolai asked slowly as he got up, his accent thick and rough with sleep. He approached Price, patting his arm as he moved past him to the firewood to relight their dwindling fire, plopping back down in front of the fireplace without much care, yawning once more before tending to the flames.

“Yeah,” Price blinked away the lingering pull of Nikolai’s hand on his shoulder. “They’ve got an SAR team on the way.”

“Do they have an idea of where we actually are? Besides your vague description?” Nikolai asked as Price sat down next to him. Price just shrugged. Nikolai sighed as he leaned back, the fire starting to pick up now. "Well, what a perfect first mission together this has been," he huffed bitterly, a small smirk on his lips despite the shake of his head.

“Can say that again,” Price nodded as he looked back outside. “Avalanches, freezing temps, no food,” he listed before turning to Nikolai again. “And the bloody cherry on top… this,” he gestured a hand between them.

"This," Nikolai echoed as he looked at Price intently, gaze traveling up and down before looking back to the fire. “This is a mess if you truly believe there to be something here,” he ran a hand over his face.

“I- erm.., didn’t mean it like that, just the y’know closeness and the uh-” Price floundered as he gestured back to the makeshift bed awkwardly, the tips of his ears warming from something other than the temperature.

Nikolai let Price dig himself deeper before holding a hand up to interrupt him. “Easy. I’m… willing to look past this,” he offered. “Simply just conserving body heat, yes?”

“Yeah,” Price blurted out a bit too quickly. “That’s- that’s what was.”

Nikolai looked Price over again, taking note of the fact that the Lieutenant had initially sat so close before shifting away at the topic of conversation, the way he avoided the topic of how they slept, the red on his face that didn’t belong when they were sitting so close to the fire.

“This can stay in the cabin,” Nikolai suggested as Price froze, his tone concerningly soft to the other man. “I would not want you losing your job over this.”

A long silence passed as the Lieutenant considered his options, completely still before nodding slowly. “Vegas rules,” he agreed gruffly even as he leaned his shoulder against the other man’s.

Nikolai watched before leaning back with a slight smile. 

They stayed like that for a long while, leaned against each other's sides, Nikolai only occasionally drawing away to add wood to the fire before returning. There was no need to talk, just watch and listen to the fire in front of them.

Though it seemed as if the second Nikolai leaned his head against the lieutenant's shoulder, crunching of snow could be heard over the crackling of wood.

 MacMillian.

Party pooper.

“Tha’s them,” Price gently nudged Nikolai with his shoulder, keeping his voice low but urgent as he nodded to the door.

Nikolai looked up before scooting away wordlessly, casting once last glance at Price before moving to gear up again. 

The steps got closer before the door was shouldered open with Macmillan's call of "Price..?" gun at the ready before the man spotted them by the fire. "Och thank bloody hell yer not a corpse, c'mon lad, you cold?" he sighed as he approached, only briefly glancing at Nikolai.

“You going soft on me, Mac? I mostly managed not to freeze my arse off,” Price huffed as the rest of the SAR team made sure the area was secure, one of them only asking Nikolai if they had any frostbite before heading off, meanwhile the Lieutenant already had handwarmers shoved at him and a scarf.

“Let’s get ye back tae the lodge an get some food in ye,” Mac continued as he already dragged Price along like a dog that couldn’t be trusted alone.

Nikolai was already following behind without a word, pulling on his gloves with nothing more than a tired exhale. Apparently it was loud enough for Mac to hear as he asked, “You alright as well, Ruski? John didn’t give ye too much a headache?”

“I am well,” Nikolai responded. “Your lieutenant was a good sport, albeit a bit… grumpy initially,” he smirked, turning more into a smile as Captain MacMillian barked out a laugh.

“Yer too young to be so sour,” Mac shook his head. He gave a quick scan around and silent headcount before speaking up with an "Alright then," as he turned to his teammate, "Get the gear loaded up. We're moving out." He clapped Price on the back as they headed for the door— the cold air rushing in as it opened wide.

The extraction was underway.

End Note:

“So… it’s John then? Jonathan, even?” Nikolai asked over hot chocolate.

“Don’t start,” Price sighed.

“I’m just saying… more of a name than Price. That’s just a noun,” When the Lieutenant gave him an odd look he added, “No different than if I called you Cost.”