FIC: Khalva

[splix]

tsarina, here is your Trick-or-Treat treat. Hope you enjoy!


Title: Khalva
Author: Alex
Fandom: Eastern Promises
Pairing/Character(s): Nikolai/Kirill
Rating: PG
Warning: None.
Word count: 300
Notes: Written as a Halloween treat for tsarina.





*

Make yourself useful, Kolya, Kirill says, but his voice is free of rancor. Semyon is away, and he is free; there is no need for brutal posturing. The kitchen hums smoothly, the staff laughs and chatters, and the air is redolent with the fragrances of borscht and blini and pirozhki.

What do you want me to do?

Kirill throws a generous lump of butter onto a hot cast-iron skillet, where it sizzles enticingly. When it’s melted, throw those in -- he hands Nikolai a wooden spoon and points to a pile of chopped walnuts -- and stir them. Don’t let them burn.

The combination of browning butter and the subtle, smoky aroma of toasting walnuts drifts upward, tantalizing, mouth-watering. Smells good, Nikolai murmurs.

Keep stirring. Turn them over. Kirill’s hand briefly closes over Nikolai’s. It’s all in the wrist, Kolya. That’s it. Nikolai learns quickly. He rolls up a sleeve and stirs with quiet competence. His shoulder blade shifts beneath the thin material of his shirt. When the nuts are toasted, he spreads them in a shallow pan. Good. Kirill takes a bowl of milk and sugar, thickened with cornstarch, and hands it to Nikolai. Now cover them.

As Nikolai works, Kirill moves closer, inhaling the scent of starched cotton, bare skin, expensive cologne. Nikolai wears Penhaligon, Opus 1870; Kirill bought it for him at Christmas. Don’t say anything to Papa, he’d said. He doesn’t get it, you know? Old-fashioned.

Nikolai permits it, Kirill’s closeness, the press of their bodies, this cruel, exquisite temptation. Later, when Semyon returns, Kirill will slap Nikolai’s shoulder and make crude jests. For now, they stand together, in perfect solidarity and the sublime accord of butter, sugar, milk, and toasted walnuts.

Aching, Kirill lifts a spoon to Nikolai’s lips. Taste it, Kolya. Taste it.


End.