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Alfred and Anya fancied themselves a couple that pushed the envelope; they were two people who were innovative, close, and transparent…in their own obscure way. The latter, in particular, was what they felt made them strong: they had their own idiosyncrasies and understood each other's well. Alfred knew perfectly the way Anya's gaze would grow distant, how she would rest her head in her hand, as she thought about her family; he knew that when a shadow of a smirk tugged at her lips she was thinking of mischief. Knew the lines that would form in her pale brow when she was preoccupied, a too often occurrence for his liking.
Likewise, Anya knew exactly Alfred's most repeated gesticulations when he talked about archeology, the pursing of his lips that could easily be a grimace when things were not going smoothly for him. Anya knew that though he feigned wariness and mock-disgust at romantic gestures in over-the-top movies, he actually adored every bit of it and took mental notes.
This trend continued to the ways they talked to each other and interacted; both were very proud, and thus both liked to show off to others just how in touch they were.
How in touch they usually were.
Occasional language barrier mishaps aside (Anya was fairly fluent in English, though some things slipped through the cracks), they typically managed fine. But sometimes outside sources made things…difficult.
Alfred lounged on his couch, laptop screen alight as he searched for new venues for future dates; he and Anya wanted to go out tonight, though both had neglected to finalize where or what they would do. Alfred's lips were pressed in a thin line as he searched and searched, mind whirring as he wondered if this place was adequate, if that place would be appropriate, if here was fun, if there would be busy. And most importantly: would Anya want to go? He wondered idly if maybe they ought to simply stay at one of their homes for the evening. But no- both had nothing to do and that should be taken advantage of. It wasn't every day the hero got to see his lead lady…
Ah, but what kind of hero would he be if he did not consult said lead lady?
With much squirming and cursing as his laptop nearly careened off his back and onto the floor, Alfred managed to tug his phone free from his back pocket. Putting it on speaker, he placed the device on his chest so he could continue his search as he called Anya.
The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and rang, and…
Voicemail.
Alfred hummed as Anya's automated message spoke first in Russian then English. He hung up and called again. Once more, no answer. On his third attempt, the phone barely rang three times before going straight to voicemail. Concerned, Alfred scooped up his phone and began to text her. His typing was interrupted by a message from Anya.
I need sex.
Alfred's eyebrows shot up behind his bangs, his stubborn strand of golden hair standing on end, and face feeling considerably warmer.
Oh.
Oh.
Well…that…was an option for tonight too. Oh, gee…this…would be a milestone for them. Alfred licked his suddenly dry lips, only to realize his throat too was dry. He coughed, glancing around though he knew no one else was present, and took a shuddering breath. It would be a lie to say the thought had never crossed his mind before. He could honestly say he loved being with Anya- loved Anya herself- and knew she was the most beautiful being he had ever set eyes on. Though often plagued by a worried frown, her full face always contained a kind of radiant grace that seemed to make her entire being glow. Despite the (privately delighted) indignant huffs he received, one of his favorite things was to run his fingers through her long tresses of platinum hair, marveling at their length and softness. The elegance of her long, thin hands was enough to drive him mad, leaving him always marveling at the contrast when she rested her fingers in his palm. Yes, Anya was positively captivating in every way, and to share such an intimate moment with her was nothing short of an honor.
And it seemed he was to be honored tonight.
Another deep, bracing breath filled his lungs, inflated his entire being, and like a bird bristling before a mate, Alfred gathered himself in preparation for making this night perfect.
0o0o0
Both Alfred and Anya sometimes needing a break from the real world, they sought that refuge in their own homes and in each other's; hence, both were in possession of a key to each other's doors. Seeing Anya not home, Alfred's stomach soared a little; this would let him plan how best to present himself. Depositing his shoes beside the front entrance- this could be Anya's first hint as to his presence- Alfred set to pacing around the house, cracking his knuckles and thinking. At last, face set, he marched off to prepare.
0o0o0
Anya crossed the threshold into her home with a yawn and a stretch, arms still raised when she spotted Alfred's shoes and the absence of the blue pair of slippers she set out for guests. "Fedya?" she called with a frown, shrugging off her coat and draping it on the coat rack.
A faint, "Up here, babe," sounded from up the stairs. Anya's frown was laced with bemusement as she strode up, confused but glad to see him.
"Are we all set for tonight?"
"I'm more than ready, babe," Alfred assured suavely.
Anya laughed softly in spite of herself, glad Alfred could not see or hear; his silliness did not need encouragement, she felt. "Lyubov, I am sorry I did not answer before," she began, opening the door to her bedroom. "I had mail from- is there reason you are naked in my bed?"
Lounging on her bed, skin utterly bare, was Alfred, laying on his side, his crotch hidden behind a box of chocolates and expensive alcohol. Despite the butterflies in his stomach, he managed what he hoped was a seductive smile. "No sweat, princess, I got your message and am happy to oblige." He curled a finger in a come-hither gesture.
Anya stared blankly, her stoicism effectively masking how her eyes were appreciating the view. "What message?" she asked finally.
"When you said what you needed," Alfred explained, still trying to make his voice as silky and enticing as the chocolate at his lap.
"What you mean?"
Some of Alfred's bravado began to crack. "You…how you need sex." His voice broke.
"I never said that."
The final shards of his seduction fell away. "Yeah you did," he said, almost desperately. Forgetting his state of undress, he lurched over to the end table, fetching his phone. He showed her the message with a kind of pleading look in his eyes. She stared at the message long and hard, nothing in her face revealing anything for Alfred's desperate gaze. Finally, she turned to him. "I meant I need sec, like second, before talking. As I was saying just before, I got call from work. The autocorrect must have changed it."
Oh.
Oh.
Alfred seemed to deflate; even the lock of hair always sticking up drooped. Warmth filled him that was completely unrelated to the earlier prospect of being intimate with Anya.
Looking down at Alfred now was like seeing a saddened puppy. Tutting, she delicately placed her fingertips to his chin, tipped his head up to look at her. "You are silly," she said with the same painful honesty she always displayed. And then she smiled. It was doting, amused…and mischievous. "But…since you are already set up, why waste your work?"
Alfred's eyes doubled in size behind his glasses. "You mean it? You sure?" Anya nodded. "Whoo!" He flung himself sloppily onto the bed, Anya laughing as she joined him, leaning in for a long, lingering kiss before inspecting the drink and sweets.
"Fedya…why are there chocolates already missing from box?"
"I was hungry, okay?"
THE END
Boy did this outgrow what I had planned. First time writing nyotalia eeeeeeeeeey. Based on a prompt on tumblr.