Author's note: Tumblr prompt was Russia/Hungary, spring. I did a little play on words here because of the recent Himapapa sketch. This is part of the « But Let It Go » arc though this one might stand a little more on its own than the others; I made a community to include all these fics in for easy browsing though, since they all end up being linked.


Egerszalók

Erzsi's pretty sure he booked all of Egerszalók's spa for the day. There are only three people working here, and the two nations as guests. The thought amuses her immensely.

Because there really is something funny about Ivan Braginski indulging the Hungarian nation like this. In the morning they had had a lascivious Hungarian breakfast like Erzsi hasn't eaten in years. They had massages during the day; Vanya's man was much more intense in his attack than Erzsi's woman had been, and listening to the Russian groan as his body was worked made her laugh. At least he had seemed to enjoy it, when they were left in the empty room to dress before heading out to the spring. The Hungarian had long ago decided there were many things about Vanya she would simply never understand, and that kind of a massage was just another item on the long list.

And now, as the late spring day draws to a close, summer quickly approaching, they lay in the hot spring they had come for, the water lapping at their body and pruning their fingers. Vanya is sipping at Hungarian wine, locally grown; it's the first time she's seen him drink any alcohol beyond his beloved vodka, though she knows he has a wine cellar at home. For herself Erzsi has local Hungarian treats on a plate she's been picking at for a long time now, savoring the taste and the memories they evoke.

It's wonderful like this, here. Vanya seems relaxed for the first time in so long, his head resting on his folded-up scarf on the edge of the spring, the scars across his pale body a little less menacing in the twilight. The Hungarian swims about for a bit, her hair pinned high on her head, enjoying being once more in her country, on her soil, doing something that had once been so normal for her. She loves her hot springs, her countryside, her people. And as she spins in a slow circle, the water slowing her body's movement, her eyes closed, Erzsi can almost imagine she is a free country, a free woman.

Bittersweet is the word that best describes her feelings as she opens her green eyes and finds the Russian watching her. She hates the Soviet Union, hates it more than she's ever hated anything, but she loves Vanya, loves the way his eyes have glazed over as he takes in her body that he sees no imperfections in, loves the way he surprises her with trips and gifts that must cost him a fortune, loves the way he risks it all to love her.

"Hey," Erzsi whispers as she swims back to her lover, coming to sit on his lap as Vanya's smile grows slowly. She leans in close, not allowing their chests to touch, her mouth just centimeters from him. "Guess what?"

"What?" His voice is breathless, his eyes partially closed as they take her in.

She runs her nose along the shaft of his. "I love you."

His sigh is deep, content, his arms wrapping around her back, and Erzsi lets the Russian pull her to him. Their bodies press together perfectly, having molded to the other's over years passed in isolation. Their love isn't perfect, and they've lost so much more than they've gained, but they have each other. And Vanya whispering, "I love you," in Hungarian just completes the spring day perfectly.