Work Text:
Winter nights were Ogata’s favorite, even though he froze his ass off.
The commute home was punishing and the weather didn’t help, making his sinewy dentist fingers blush violent pink. It was worth it, though. Not because of the merry festivities that winter entailed (he was never a big fan of Christmas) but for something far simpler.
“What the hell happened?”
The apartment was always a mess. Mainly it was Vasily’s fault, carelessly throwing scrapped sketches and empty watercolor tubes about. Ogata kept hissing at him to clean his shit up, but when Vasily was in his artistic zone, he might as well been forgotten.
Tonight was no different. Pencil shavings, stray blots of acrylic and torn papers littered the hardwood floor. Vasily sat by his easel, cheeks dotted sea foam blues and apple greens. Broken from his trance, he looked up at Ogata, who was impatiently waiting for a response.
Vasily couldn’t meet his eyes, a light flush growing on his already paint-stained cheeks. “Sorry.”
Ogata sighed and threw his coat and messenger bag to the side. “You’re not gonna leave the living room like this, are you?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Vasily got up and began to take off his painter’s apron. He swiped the torn papers and curled them up into one monstrous ball. He tossed it into the trash can, falling perfectly into it. “I just had this idea and I had to do it before I forgot.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Artist’s intuition and all that.” Ogata helped him clean up the rest of the garbage with a beaten up broom and dustbin that have seen worse days. The paint stains were tomorrow’s problem.
“Do you wanna see it?” Vasily asked as he took the broom and dustbin from Ogata.
“Of course.”
He grabbed his canvas and carefully flipped it over. A summer sky graced the once blank canvas, shifting from rich turquoise blues to hints of that seafoam blue that was all over Vasily’s cheeks. Rich grass protruded from the bottom, accentuated by a wide array of wildflowers, whites and oranges contrasting with the deep green. In its center stood a lynx, sniffing at the clean air.
Ogata always found himself dumbstruck at Vasily’s work. The talent, the sheer artistry evident in each of his pieces was impossible to ignore. It was intimidating, being one of the only people able to see his creations as they were being made, but Ogata was honored to be trusted with these exclusive looks.
Vasily tried reading Ogata’s unwavering gaze. “Do you like it?”
“I love everything you make.” Ogata kissed him on the cheek. He noticed the paint and tried to rub it off with his thumb. “Geez, you’re such a klutz.”
“But you still love me, right?” Vasily kissed his palm.
“Unfortunately.” Ogata rolled his eyes, but the blush that grew across his features spoke the truth. “I’m gonna take a bath,” he started to take off his scrubs, “I feel like the clinic.”
“Without me?” Vasily gave him soft, pleading eyes.
Ogata playfully pushed his shoulder, “Yeah, I’m planning on stealing all of your hot water.”
“Don’t you dare.” Vasily retorted, but Ogata had already jumped into the shower and turned on the water.
With not much else left to do, Vasily huffed and gathered what art supplies he could carry into their shared bedroom. On one side—Vasily’s side— were canvases, finished commissions precariously stacked one on top of another on his desk, waiting to be sent out. Nearby was a unit of plastic drawers. He opened one of them and dumped the tubes of paint inside.
In an act of mercy, Ogata had saved some hot water for Vasily. As his partner took his turn in the shower, Ogata started to fix their bed, a comfy queen size adorned with luxurious sheets that they forced Sugimoto to pay for out of pocket. To his dismay, he found a stray pocky crumb from last night’s snack binge. He swiped it off the bed.
Ogata tucked himself in, ignoring Sugimoto and company’s heated discussion about the best pocky flavor when Vasily came out of the shower, hair still slightly wet and wearing nothing but sweatpants that hugged his waist comfortably.
Ogata set his phone on their bedside table and wordlessly beckoned for Vasily to come, which he did.
This. This was Ogata’s favorite part of winter. Nestled in Vasily’s gentle embrace, tucked under cozy sheets and comforters, resting as the world moves on without them.
Nightfall had blanketed that outside world in the darkest navy, with pinprick stars woven in. The snow from earlier before was set in place. It buried cars and covered sidewalks and the roofs of various houses along with the stray apartment complexes. Lamplights cast everything below in a clinical orange glow, contrasting with the all encompassing black.
They too were illuminated, the bedsheets basking in the warm light, made softer by its glow. It added to the warmth of entangled bodies and the blankets they lay underneath, but the streetlamps could only reach so far. The rest of their stuff—their desks, Vasily’s trove of expensive art supplies, and Ogata’s growing collection of hoodies—were cast in the dark.
Vasily’s hand rested on Ogata’s shoulder, absent-mindedly rubbing it when he recognized the cotton texture under his touch. He pinched at the shirt’s sleeve. “Is this my shirt?”
“The one from Moscow? Yeah.”
“I’m never getting it back, am I?”
“Nope.” Ogata grinned.
Vasily sighed, cheek resting against Ogata’s forehead. He was lucky that he was so damn cute, otherwise Vasily would’ve ripped it off him.
“Tell me about your day.” He began to pet Ogata’s hair, free of all the products he dumps on it.
“Well, a little girl bit my finger so hard I have teeth marks, and I had a cavity that took me almost an hour and a half to fill.” As Ogata explained, Vasily continued to pet his hair, planting a gentle kiss.
“Shit. Was it big?”
“Took up the whole crown. The patient was addicted to candy.” Ogata scoffed at the memory of her. “And she already has three dental crowns.” He heaved out a sigh and gazed up at Vasily. “What about you?"
“Well, besides making a mess in the living room—” Ogata chuckled at that. “I’ve been restoring this work that's been in the museum’s collection for decades. It’s daunting; the painting’s so old. Then I came home, made lunch and worked on the lynx painting.”
“Mmmhh, busy day.”
“Very,” Vasily pulled Ogata closer to him. Ogata rested his hand on his pecs, giving them a squeeze. “Your boobs are big.”
“Thank you, I like to keep them in shape.” A moment of silence followed until the two burst out chuckling.
Back in the outside world, clouds had gathered, obscuring the once clear sky. Snow began to fall, light specks almost invisible to the human eye. The electric clock on the nightstand read 11:37.
Ogata fought to stay awake, eyes fluttering open and shut erratically, but the actions of the day were catching up to him. Vasily, on the other hand, was sound asleep, or at least seemed like it.
“Hey,” Ogata whispered, gently shaking Vasily’s shoulder, “wake up.”
Vasily barely opened his eyes, hair amuck and sticking in all directions. He looked like he was seconds away from drifting off into sleep. “Hmm?”
“Can I tell you something?” The question was delicate, practically indiscernable despite the omnipresent silence.
“What? That you’re gonna steal my Van Gogh hoodie next?” Vasily yawned, matching Ogata’s tenored tone. When he saw Ogata’s features, lips pursed and gaze that refused to meet his own, his sleepy smirk faded. “Tell me wha—?”
“I love you.”
That woke Vasily up. Ogata had never told him that he loved him before. He didn’t really need to; he showed his affection through actions and his usual snarks, but a small, selfish part of Vasily longed to hear the words. The wavering, that vulnerability in Ogata’s voice was impossible to ignore.
Vasily brushed a strand of Ogata’s hair to the side and rested his hand on his cheek. A smile formed on his lips, “I love you too.”
He leaned close and kissed Ogata’s lips, who readily kissed back. Snow continued to fall, their shadows cast on their faces. Vasily pulled the blanket up a bit further, making sure Ogata was covered, and fell back asleep the way he did before.
Even as he was resting, Ogata admired Vasily’s features. He couldn’t help it; Vasily was a handsome man to look at, but exhaustion was catching up to him. Ogata finally closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of Vasily’s chest.