Warnings: slash.

Rated: T

Alex tucked his head low, enjoying the whistle in his ears and the biting wind on his face. The pure expanse of whiteness ahead of him begged to be marred, and Alex was more than happy to oblige, ripping over the fresh snow with merciless speed.

His trails scarred the snow behind him, leaving a clear path into the dense trees from which he had emerged. From the depths of the forest, Alex heard a shout. The words were indistinct, but the message was clear.

Alex banked left, expertly swinging his skis into a stop. Powder was sprayed in front of him, falling like confetti.

He stabbed his ski poles into the ground. They sunk a few inches into the snow layer before finding purchase on the frozen ground below. He looked back, mitted hands moving to remove his snow goggles, resting the protective wear on his forehead.

The tips of white skis appeared first, breaching the shadows of the forest and emerging in the clearings sun. They were quickly followed by a white clad body. Yassen came to a graceful stop next to him.

For a second, Alex looked at his reflection in Yassen's goggles - warped from the concave and distorted with rainbow colours. Then the goggles were shoved up and Alex was met with the much more interesting view of pale blue eyes, so reminiscent of the ice chips that surrounded them.

"You took a wrong turn," Yassen stated, gesturing back up the hill with his ski pole.

Alex frowned. "Down the hill, over the jump. Right path. Left at the fork. Right at the mile marker. Right at the next fork, then left again," Alex repeated the directions that Yassen had given at the start of the run, but Yassen was already shaking his head.

"Left at the mile marker," the older man corrected.

"Oh. Right."

"No, left."

"No, I meant-" Alex laughed. "I meant 'right' like 'right', not 'right' like 'right'."

"You confuse me sometimes."

Alex rolled his eyes, examining the path he had carved. "Do we need to go back?" He asked, praying that the answer was no. They hadn't passed the marker too long ago, but Alex had been ripping the whole way down - it would be a long hike uphill.

Yassen noted the reluctance in his voice, pursing his lips in the way he did when delivering bad news.

Alex interrupted before Yassen could even utter a word. "Can't we just keep going downhill? Down is down, it all leads the same place."

Which of course wasn't true. There was a cottage mid-mountain where they were staying. If they didn't get on the right track, they would likely ski right past it. Alex knew that, and Yassen knew he knew that.

Also, he noted that the path he had been following cut off into a dead end at the bottom of this hill.

Yassen gave a pointed look and Alex sighed dramatically. He reached down to unclasp his skis. With hunched shoulders, Alex led the way back up the path.

They weren't a long way off from the path. Alex was focusing on his breathing. He was fit, but hiking up a mountain in a few feet of snow and weighed down with winter gear, downhill ski boots restricting his movement, skis slung over his shoulder, was about as tiring as it sounds. He was so zoned out, that it took him a second to recognize the sound of voices up ahead. By that time, Yassen was already a step ahead.

Just as he was turning to Yassen - a warning on his lips - the man was grabbing his upper arm and dragging back, deeper into the treeline. Alex tried to make as little noise as possible, scarcely daring to breathe.

Muffled voices drifted to them over the wind. "They're going pretty fast," one voice observed, "You don't think we'll lose 'em, aye?"

A derisive snort met that question. "Hardley. They're leaving a trail, idiot. Look, it loops this way."

Alex glanced over his shoulder to where Yassen crouched behind him. They exchanged a few glances, an entire conversation embodied in looks.

Someone was following them. Multiple someone's. Alex doubted their intentions were innocent.

Alex sighed. They were supposed to be on vacation.

Dropping his skis to the snow silently, Alex and Yassen quickley clasped their boots into the bindings. They had little choice but to try and outrun (out ski) their pursuers.

Ducking low, they disappeared into the foliage. Cutting back down the way they came, through the snow once again. Alex glanced back, knowing they were leaving a pretty obvious scene in their wake.

A set of tracks going down. A set of footprints backtracking, then coming to a halt not a few meters from those other men. And yet another set of tracks heading back down. If the men following them were even halfway competent, they would realize that they had been found out.

Most of his and Yassen's things were at the cabin - minus what they had with them. Alex was sure they could get some kind of evac at the bottom of the mountain, but that implied getting down there first.

And then there was the matter of the men following them. Alex hadn't seen what gear they had; maybe skis, but it could just as easily be a snowmobile or something else much faster than them. Or - if he was feeling optimistic, which he rarely was - they could be on foot.

Alex worried that they wouldn't be able to outrun these guys - not to mention that they were coming up on a dead end - so they would have to lose them another way.

"What are you doing?" Yassen hissed below his breath, coming to a screeching stop.

Alex had halted abruptly, reaching down to unclasp his ski boots.

"Undo them," Alex said, gesturing at Yassen's feet. He received one more confused look, then Yassen obeyed. They stood upright again, boots loose around their ankles. Yassen was giving him looks like he was mad.

Maybe he was.

Alex kicked off, continuing downhill. Skiing with unbuckled boots was a dangerous game, but luckily he and Yassen were above average at the sport.

Alex took the lead this time, trying very hard not to wipe out. Going head over heels with freed skis would be a disaster that they couldn't afford right now.

They re-entered the clearing from earlier and Alex saw his mark. A low hanging tree branch above a steep slope.

He signaled for Yassen to watch him, and took off towards the branch like a speeding bullet (Alex would know, he had a lot of experience with speeding bullets.)

Just as the branch was close enough to threaten Alex's well being, he jumped. Toes pointed, arms reaching high, he pulled himself free of his boots and into the tree.

His skis and boots careened down the hill, keeping balanced on the fresh snow. They cut little pathways down the hill before hitting a snowbank. They took off, same as if they had hit a jump, and disappeared out of sight.

Hands wrapped around the branch, knuckles tightened, and then Yassen was crouching next to him. Another set of skis disappeared down the hill.

"What's the plan now, genius?" Yassen asked - much too lighthearted for the potential danger they were in.

Alex smiled - as usual, he hadn't totally thought this one through, but he figured he could make this work anyway. He shimmied towards the trunk of the tree, hopping lightly to the branches of a neighboring one. He repeated this process until he was deep into the woods, working his way horizontally to their previous path.

Eventually, he was forced to drop to the snow covered floor. This of course came with the reality of his now bootless feet. The little flakes around him melted, soaking into his socks. Yassen landed next to him, looking equally irritated at his damp feet.

"We'd better get back to the cabin," Yassen stated, "if we want to keep our toes, that is."

Alex nodded, but paused a second longer to listen back the way they'd come. No sound of a motor - which Alex had suspected. He was sure either him or Yassen would have noticed if their pursuers had had a snowmobile.

Instead, he heard the familiar scuff of skis on snow. That was good. If the men fell for their little false trail, it would put them a good ways down the mountain. They would have to removed their skis and hike back up once they realized the rouse. And then they would have to find their trail again.

It gave them a head start, at least.

They ran lightly on the slippery slope, trying to ignore the biting feeling at the tips of their toes. It seemed like a long time, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes before they drew level with a familiar mile marker.

There was no sign of their followers. From here, Yassen took the lead, looking a little grumpy but also kind of amused. Alex supposed this was familiar territory for both of them; not welcome territory, but familiar.

Yassen burrowed through some bushes, coming to the path that they had been supposed to take. They moved quickly now, back on a downhill track, and soon enough the roof of their cabin was visible over the treeline.

The lights in the cabin were out, the two front windows dark and ominous, like the eyes of the small log shelter were watching their approach. Him and Yassen exchanged a glance, aware that they would be at a disadvantage if someone was in the cabin, waiting to ambush them.

But there was nothing they could do about that if that was the case, so Alex shrugged philosophically and led the way inside.

They were in luck, the cabin was just as they had left it. Maybe the men searching for them were less competent that they had originally thought. Still, Alex was sure that their trail would be found eventually, leading the men to their cabin. They should be gone by then.

First things first, Alex stripped off his socks. His toes had gone distinctly pale, and he noted that they were also quite numb at this point. He opened a drawer in his dresser and pulled on a double layer of wool socks.

Yassen followed suit, tugging on boots as well before grabbing their emergency bag. He nodded to the back door and Alex followed him out into the snow again.

It would be easy going from here, Alex knew, as they had a white truck hidden in the tree line. While the interior was freezing, it was much preferable to trekking in the snow.

Yassen started the truck, maneuvering them out of the snow drift that had built around them and off roading it down the mountain. He tossed Alex the bag, and he took the hint to dig out the emergency cellphone.

A speed dial later and Alex had been assured that the 'situation' would be 'handled'. He didn't take too long to riddle out that one - he didn't really care.

They made their way off the mountain side and onto a main road.

As the inside of the truck began to warm up, Alex kicked his boots off and tucked his legs up. He moved to massage some feeling back into his toes, but realized that his hands had gone equally numb.

Somewhere along the way he seemed to have lost his gloves. He hadn't even noticed.

"Alright?" Yassen asked. Alex glanced up to see the assassin giving him sidelong glances of concern.

Alex tried for a smile, internally wondering if he had done something inadvertently horrible to himself.

"Fine," he answered. "Just a little numb."

Yassen nodded, checking his rear view mirror before pulling sharply off the road. Alex yelped in surprise as they halted overlooking a snowy outcrop.

Yassen shifted into park, wrenching up the emergency break before holding a hand out.

"Let me see," he demanded.

Alex obediently handed his hands over. Yassen flipped them frontways and back, examining them critically. Sure hands began rubbing smooth circles over his skin.

Alex sighed as the warmth was rubbed back into his muscles, accompanied by the stinging sensation of pins and needles. Yassen worked his way up Alex's arm, tugging the jacket off him for easier access.

"Do I need to do your feet too?" Yassen asked with a gesture.

The socks seemed to have done a good job there, his feet felt almost fine, but…

Alex nodded and Yassen ran his hands over Alex's feet. It almost tickled, and Alex suppressed a giggle.

"Actually," he said, drawing Yassen's attention. "A little higher."

Yassen tilted his head, but obliged, hands shifting to Alex's calf.

"Higher."

This time Yassen raised an eyebrow, apparently getting his meaning. He smiled and placed his hands lightly on Alex's upper thigh.

"You know, this would be more effective with clothes off," Yassen stayed nonchalantly. "For medical purposes."

Alex nodded seriously. "Yes, I've heard that."

And Yassen's hand drifted up his shirt, pulling the material up over his head. Alex tried not to bang his hands on the roof.

He reached over and unzipped Yassen's ski jacket, shucking it off with the sweater quickly following suit. He tucked his hand down Yassen's trousers, and the man shifted, jumping the center console to straddle Alex on his seat.

Alex laughed and grabbed the lever by his side, reclining his seat all the way back. Yassen followed him down, stripping off trousers and pants until they were both down to their woollen socks.

Might as well make the most of what little vacation they had left.

AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!

As always, I am still taking plot suggestions and prompts for this story, or any other ones. Fresh idea's are very helpful.