Dirty reality made by gloved hands

XIII

The bed felt strangely cold when Soviet woke up. His eyelids were heavy and could barely open but still the change of his surroundings made him look around. He sat up confused.

The bed was empty. Reich was gone again.

Well, it's not like he was not getting used to it at this point. He exhaled tiredly and fell back to the bed. He did not have any energy to get up as his head was pounding with pain and nausea. It was rare that hung over beat him, even rarer that he actually got drunk. He pressed his finger between his eyebrows trying to subside the pain. Flashes of memories came to his mind from the night and he sighed bitterly.

He realised that he was still naked so he still decided to get up and get at least some underwear on him. He ended up fully dressing up because the cold air stung his skin. He wore brown corduroy pants with a black hand-knitted turtleneck.

It hurt him that Reich just simply left without any trace. It felt like- no, it feels like that the German is just using him for his own good. Sudden melancholy hit him.

He can not stand this!

He sat at the edge of the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands out frustration. He bit the inside of his cheeks to stay calm but nevertheless a few drops of tears made their way to his eyes. The Russian became even more frustrated but now at himself. How could he be so stupid and weak? He falls for every small trick. And now? Great! He is crying. Could he get any more pathetic? A big pile of trash!

He tried to calm himself down with big deep sighs. He inhaled and exhaled slowly straightening up he was finally be able to gather himself a bit. That was when the door behind him clicked and opened.

"Oh! Soviet! You're awake!" Chirped a familiar voice. The Russian turned around and looked at the figure. Surprise, relief and a bit of shame washed trough him.

Reich came into the room holding a tray in his hands with two tea cups on it. He seemed to have found his uniform but he didn't wear his cap, so his perfectly set hair could be seen.

"I figured I'd do something useful while you're sleeping so I made some tea for both of us." He smiled as he put down the tray on the nearby coffee table. The union hummed

"that's... kind of you." He said a bit hoarsely. The reich of course noticed the strange act of the Russian.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen while I was gone?" He asked concerned.

"No.. no everything is fine." And he smiled weakly. "I just though that you already left, but I'm glad I was wrong." Reich's eyes scanned him up and down, observed every single muscle movement, twitch and even breathing of the Russian. Literally like a lie detector, however he didn't seem to find any clue that would stand against what Soviet had said, so he just smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

"Of course, love. Here is your tea." He gave the cup to Soviet's hand. And they both sat down beside the coffee table. The Russian smelled the tea and as the familiar aroma hit his limbic system memories from his childhood bubbled up to the surface. Cranberry tea... he exhaled and smiled.

"How did you know?"

"What?"

"How did you know that my favourite tea is cranberry?" Reich blinked a few times then a sly grin spread across his face.

"Well well well, what would a magician be if he told all his tricks?" Soviet just scoffed

"tch.. alright smartass." and he began to drink his tea. It felt nice how the warm liquid slid down his throat all the way to his stomach. He could feel the warmth spreading in his chest.