Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me and I make no money with it.

Summary: Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it.

Date: Jan. 3rd - 0.45 am, between Sorrow and Night (Timeline: http :/ shiruy. livejournal. com/ 3602. html)

Edited: 27.12.10

30. Under the Rain

"This is it?"

Alex looked up at the nondescript apartment building, squinting against the mixture of ice and rain blowing in his face. It had been sleeting since they had reached the city, but that hadn't stopped Yassen from abandoning their car in a parking garage, taking the underground to another station, walking a bit, taking a cab, walking again,another trip with the underground... After half an hour Alex was pretty sure they had lost all potential pursuers and he any ability to tell where they were.

Walking a little in front of him Yassen nodded once, not turning to look at him. The Russian's demeanor had gotten increasingly brusque with each passing hour and Alex wondered if he was simply tired or if something else was the matter.

He looked up at the looming building and shivered, crossing his arms tighter. He had changed into the clothes the other had stolen at the motel because they were warmer than the ones he had borrowed but by now he knew that it wouldn't have mattered either way. He was soaked to the skin and at the last underground station he had seen that his fingertips were blue. If he weren't so cold he'd already have fallen asleep where he stood.

Yassen got out a key he had picked up God only knew where and they entered the building, Alex hoping desperately that the lift was working when he saw the staircase; he wasn't sure he'd be able to get up ten flights of stairs, or even just two.

The Russian glanced at him and seemed to come to the same conclusion because he diverted from his path towards the stairs and went straight for the lift. Alex leaned against the metal wall of the small cabin and closed his eyes, grateful for the break. The lift was barely big enough to fit three people and he could feel the warmth emitting from the assassin's body, making goosebumps break out all over his chilled skin. He shuddered.

They got off on the sixth floor and Alex waited while the man opened the first door on the right and went in, turning on a light. So this was it, the young spy thought, stepping into the entrance hall. This was the kind of place a contract killer lived at.

...it looked almost disappointingly normal.

He toed off his shoes and leaned against the doorframe to the first room on the left, the kitchen. Yassen was looking into the cupboards, probably to check what kind of food was there. Even though he had already seen the assassin eat once or twice it was still strange to think that he needed sustenance just like any other normal person.

"Uhm," he started hesitantly. The Russian glanced at him over his shoulder. "Can I help with anything?" He didn't want to be useless, but he also half-hoped that Yassen wouldn't take him up on his offer. He just wanted to curl up on a dry piece of floor and fall asleep as soon as possible.

The assassin turned around and looked at him consideringly, then nodded in the direction of the hall. "Take a shower. The bathroom is the second door on the right."

Alex nodded, relieved, and went to get warm, only glancing into the other two rooms in passing. The big room on the right seemed to be the bedroom, and the door on the left of the bathroom seemed to lead to some kind of cross between a living and a training room. Yassen probably only used it for the latter purpose.

The shower warmed him up considerably, though it also made him more tired than ever. It was a struggle not to fall asleep in the cubicle. When he stumbled out of the bathroom the kitchen was dark, the lights in the hallway and the bedroom the only ones still on. He went to open the door to the bedroom, but then hesitated with his hand on the handle. Was he allowed to go in there? Or was he expected to sleep on the floor? He hadn't seen a couch anywhere...

"Close the door behind you."

He jumped at the unexpected voice, then flushed lightly and quickly went in. Yassen was by the wardrobe, taking out a thick blanket and throwing it onto the bed. Alex noted that it was a double. On the far side of the room there were what must have been glass sliding doors leading out onto a balcony, but they were hidden by heavy, dark blue curtains. The Russian probably didn't want anyone to be able to look into his room.

"Where can I, uhm, sleep?" Damn, this was so awkward.

"The bed." The assassin threw him a deadpan look and the wordless 'where the hell else?' came across loud and clear.

Alex ducked his head, feeling stupid, embarrassed and kind of pissed off to be honest. If Yassen didn't want him here he should just say so and throw him out. He took a few steps closer to the other and frowned. "Then where are you going to sleep?"

For a moment he thought the man was going to say that that wasn't his business, but then the Russian answered, "I will rest later."

Uh. Great. So Alex was effectively kicking Yassen out of his own bed and keeping him from some badly needed rest? He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. "The bed's big enough for both of us."

Offering a contract killer to share a bed with him? Yeah, they had passed awkward and gone straight into humiliating now.

Yassen just looked at him, a strange expression on his face, like he didn't know what to think.

"What?" he snapped. "I'm about to keel over, you're about to keel over, might as well do it somewhere comfortable."

The Russian kept staring at him for several beats, then he seemed to come to a decision. "Go to bed," he ordered before walking past Alex and out of the room, closing the door behind himself. For a second the teen just stood there and listened, half-expecting the sound of a key turning in the lock, but instead he heard the bathroom door open and close. Right, Yassen was completely soaked through as well.

He shivered at the reminder of the the cold and padded over to the bed, his naked feet making no sound on the carpet. He had gotten back into the pants and over-sized shirt he had borrowed from the Russian for lack of anything else to wear. His clothes were hanging over the tub, still dripping wet.

The mattress was softer than he had expected and he bounced a little, smiling to himself. Over the last few months he had become increasingly appreciative of simple things like a comfortable bed, fitting shoes, and being able to move without anything hurting. It was funny how you never really thought about those things until they became an issue.

The sheets were cool but they smelled fresh and he tugged the blanket up over his nose, curling up on his side. Would Yassen decide to sleep in the bed? The man hadn't given any indication one way or the other. Alex stared at the empty half of the mattress, then turned around so that his back was to it. If the man took him up on his offer he didn't want to sleep facing him; who knew what kind of weird expressions he made in his sleep? Though this position was uncomfortable as hell for his shoulder.

He grimaced, then rolled onto his stomach. He didn't like to sleep like this, it took him too long to get up if anyone came at him from behind. But then again, Yassen was the only other person here. If the Russian decided to do anything it wouldn't matter in which position Alex slept.

...which probably wasn't such a smart thing to think about if he wanted to fall asleep anytime soon.

He groaned and buried his face in his pillow, holding his breath. Okay, so there was a possibility that Yassen would decide to sleep next to him. No reason to panic. It was just Yassen. The man wasn't going to kill him for taking up too much space or stealing the blanket or something. It was no big deal. Alex had slept next to almost-strangers before. Sometime. In the past. Probably.

What the hell had he been thinking?

"You weren't, that's the problem," he muttered to himself, annoyed. The Russian had told him to take the bed and Alex's unfortunate habit of being contrary had reared its ugly head, coupled with a good amount of guilt for all the trouble he caused the other. Well, no way around it now. He sighed and closed his eyes, determined to stop thinking and just fall asleep.

At first his mind kept throwing random thoughts at him, but soon the sound of the running shower and his own weary body started to drag him under. He didn't even notice anymore when the bed dipped on the other side.