Burly Men Come in Many Sizes

Pairing: Russia/Prussia

There is a newcomer at the local gym.

~o~

Gilbert had noticed him. Oh, he had certainly noticed him. From the first day he started coming to the gym, the tall bulk of Russian paleness had instantly caught Gilbert's ruby-red eye. He was hard to miss, tall as he was. Muscled too, albeit more in a manner of mass and less in one of definement. He certainly didn't have the built of Gilbert's baby brother, who looked like he could easily lift a car above his head without breaking a sweat. This man could probably do so too, but still, there was a hint of softness to him.

Not that it all really mattered. The man was just yet another customer at the gym, slaving away on treadmills and over by the weightlifters. His oddly coloured eyes were trained on the screen (but really, who was Gilbert to judge a man's eye colour?) as his lips opened in silent pants; silent, because Gilbert simply couldn't hear them over the music being blasted into his ears. There were bandages around his neck, but really, he wasn't the only one who appeared a bit roughened up around these parts, so no one had approached him to pry and poke around as of yet. Not because they hadn't been curious, of course. Gilbert knew he was curious.

And perhaps also a little interested. For he often found the other giving him a friendly smile upon entering, after which he took a place at the piece of equipment right next to Gilbert's. There wasn't any written rule about personal space, but everyone knew to leave a little space in between. If all the treadmills were open safe for one, you just didn't pick the one right next to it. That was common knowledge.

Not to the burly Russian. He neatly placed down his towel and bottle of water at the foot before stepping on, started to jog right beside him, and left for the showers after almost a full hour of running. All the while sending Gilbert curious secretive glances. Oh, Gilbert had noticed. And every time he found himself being the object of his companion's attention, he had subconsciously straightened his back, expression becoming more fierce as he sped up for just a moment, finding it funny how he felt the need to impress the other. Perhaps he was jealous of his easily acquired mass, or… simply flattered?

Not that he thought much of it. They were simply two strangers who happened to go to the same gym together, at more or less the same times, as if someone had taken the time to study his schedule by heart, and who shared the occasional glance of interest, like the ones you'd give one another at a bar or a party, a silent "Are you single ready to mingle?" like his friends often said. And Gilbert was indeed, very single, and very ready to mingle. But he didn't want to look desperate.

Which is why it came as quite the surprise when one day as he finished up, his Russian buddy having left a few minutes ago, he found said Russian still present in the showers. He knew it was him by the exact towel and bottle of refreshing liquid he'd seen every day waiting right there outside the shower stall. Normally, Ivan was already gone by the time he came out to change. Not today, it seemed.

Gilbert shrugged it off and slipped into the empty stall beside his quote-unquote friend. There was nothing wrong with switching up your shower habits every once in awhile. Even if it gave certain albinos nervous butterflies constantly pounding against the walls of his stomach in an attempt to escape.

The red-eyed man was about to take off his clothes when he could hear soft cursing from the stall next to his. He paused, automatically perking his ears. For a long and pregnant moment, only the downpour of hot and steamy water could be heard, but then, there it was again. Soft cursing in a foreign tongue, a constant muttering like the annoyed buzzing of a mosquito. Gilbert put his ear and hands (palm flattened) to the wall, brow furrowed in utmost concentration.

"Everything okay in there?" he asked, almost biting his tongue when he realized that perhaps, they weren't exactly in the right mindset or position to have a friendly conversation. People usually liked being left alone whilst taking a relaxing shower, even if they had a sailor's mouth (or what Gilbert could only assume was a sailor's mouth, if the word suka was what he thought it was).

The muttering stopped. After a few seconds, so did the water. Gilbert felt his heart rate rise significantly, wondering if perhaps he'd overstepped some invisible boundary. Surely the other had always seemed kind, but he still resembled a brick wall. Another moment of quiet suspense, and Gilbert nearly jumped out of his skin when he could hear a hesitant voice drift through the open door of his stall, carefully tasting every syllable before being let out into the room.

"I… forget towel," it spoke, voice roughly accented yet pleasantly hoarse in exactly the right places. It tickled goosebumps all over Gilbert's arms, pulled his lips up into a reflexive grin. He walked over to the door and leant against it, not quite peeking inside of the other's stall, but giving him the opportunity to look him in the eye if he so desired.

"You're that new guy, right? The one that always takes up the treadmill next to mine. So you're a foreigner? Me too, me too. Or used to be." He nodded his head almost nostalgically. "Forgot to pick a towel up at the entrance?"

"Da," that voice came again, a bit more sourly this time.

Gilbert felt his pulse shoot up his throat as he licked his salty lips before speaking up again. "I can give you mine."

Another pause.

"But… You need towel?" his companion asked hesitantly, obviously confused, yet pleasantly so. There was even a hint of excitement to it- although that could just as well be the cause of Gilbert's overly active imagination.

He shook his head, already gathering the fluffy piece of fabric into his arms. "That's okay, I live close-by! I can just shower at home." He lifted it up so the other could see his hand in the small strip above his door, temptingly waving the towel back and forth, like a metronome attempting to hypnotize him.

Gilbert straightened up once again when wet footsteps slipped over the floor, and the door was opened to a creak. Tall and handsome curiously peered out, one hand covering his neck, lower body strategically hidden behind the wall- not that Gilbert was actively looking down, of course. Naturally, he was only paying attention to Ivan's face. And naturally, he came to know by only looking at his face, that the other had a very sturdy-looking chest covered in a platinum dusting of hair, a surprisingly soft belly, and a hint of what appeared to be about the plumpest hips a man his size could ever have. And Gilbert was ecstatic when their hands brushed together as the towel was hesitantly taken, the man (who haphazardly introduced himself as Ivan) giving another one of those smiles that could be a smirk, tempting, teasing, inviting.