Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books. Any recognisable dialogue is from the books or TV show – some lines may be included verbatim, others in an amended form.
For _venomousbarbie on Twitter for the Darklina Fall Equinox Mini Exchange on Twitter. Prompt was 'fairy lights'.
The leaves are on the ground, golden and crunchy underfoot, a dry spell keeping them from turning squelchy and mushy in the rain.
The air is crisp, with the scents of soups and hot chocolate and pumpkin spice wafting from every café doorway.
Everyone is trading their sandals for boots, and their summer dresses for cosy knitted jumpers.
It is Fall. It is Alina's very favourite season.
And, right now, she can't enjoy any of it.
"I love my job. I love my joy. I love my job."
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Starkova."
"Jesper, I swear to all the saints that I will maim you if you don't leave me in peace."
"Someone's tetchy."
"Inej and Kaz are on their honeymoon. Wylan is at a conference. Nina is on maternity leave and Matthias is sleep-deprived, so basically not functioning. We are understaffed and overworked, and I need to submit the paperwork for the Kir-Taban contract in six hours, so forgive me if I'm a little on edge."
"Have you had lunch? I feel like you haven't had lunch. And you know if you don't eat, then you'll feel terrible later and then I will get dirty looks from your husband for the next month."
"He's not that bad."
"I'm pretty sure he's the reason that the intern we had six months ago – the one who ruined your filing system and spilled coffee over three laptops – moved to an entirely different country."
"I don't have time for this, Jesper. I will eat when my work is done, and don't you dare message Sasha or I'll tell Wylan you made me cry."
"Low blow, Starkova. Low. Blow."
It's pitch black by the time Alina gets out of the office.
There's a light drizzle now, and no satisfying crunch as she walks over the leaves covering the carpark.
The surrounding shops and cafés are closed, their windows dark and shutters down rather than warm and inviting.
The magic of Fall seems very far away right now.
Maybe tomorrow, she thinks, perhaps I'll get out into the park for lunch.
But she doubts it. The Kir-Taban file might be finished with for the moment, but there's urgent work to be done on Istamere Industries, which has fallen into Alina's workload with Nina off on maternity leave and their boss too cheap to hire a temp.
I could quit, she muses, Sasha's always telling me they work me too hard.
And she might jump ship, soon enough. Not right now, though, not when it would be leaving her colleagues – her friends – in the lurch.
Home is warm and inviting, the mere sight of it enough to relax much of the tension in her body.
A brownstone they'd chosen together, lovingly restored and redecorated over a chaotic but rewarding six months.
Carved pumpkins on either side of the stone steps leading up to the front door. A little too early for that, some might say, but Fall, for Alina, means pumpkins, and Sasha is always happy to oblige, just as he's glad to fill their fridge with a variety of different pumpkin soup recipes for her to test out.
Once inside, Alina does her best to shed the work day.
Keys in the little lopsided sunshine-yellow bowl she'd made at a pottery class Genya had dragged her to. Coat hung in the understairs cupboard. Bag stowed away in the bedroom and her smart skirt, shirt and blazer traded for her favourite worn cotton pyjamas, one of Sasha's jumpers and her fluffy slippers.
And then, she goes in search of her husband.
He's not in the kitchen, although it bears signs of recent use, nor is he watching the tv or in his study reading.
She finds him, in the end, on the top floor of their three-story home, one huge room that they've painted and carpeted in neutral colours but not yet decided on a use for.
And it seems like he's been busy indeed.
The room is softly lit by fairy lights strung across the walls and ceiling, illuminating the mass of blankets and pillows piled onto the floor and the makeshift tent made using half a dozen bedsheets.
He has hauled their low (and heavy) coffee table up two flights of stairs and set it with her favourite set of fall crockery (decorated with cheery cartoon pumpkins and orange-red leaves). There's steaming soup, lentil bolognese with mashed potatoes, and sticky cinnamon buns.
A few feet away, opposite the pile of cushions, their spare TV has been set up, paused on the opening credits for When Harry Met Sally.
She turns to her husband – her handsome, wonderful, perfect husband – and feels tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.
He strides forward to swipe away the dampness and peppers her face with kisses.
"How did you know?" she asks.
How did he know that this is exactly what she needs after the day she's had, especially when she thinks of how hectic work will continue to be for a while.
"A little bird – naming no names, of course – might have told me that you were having a somewhat stressful time at the moment. I had no meetings this afternoon, so I skipped out early and left Ivan in charge."
"It's perfect," she sighs happily, "I love it, Sasha."
"You work so hard, milaya, and you deserve this."
He won't let her lift a finger, insists on settling her onto the pillows and tucking enough blankets around her that she feels like she's half-burrito, half-person.
The food is delicious, which is to be expected considering how good of a cook he is, and the film is – as it always is – a delight to watch.
By the time the end credits start to roll, their empty bowls and plates are off to the side and Alina is half-dozing on Sasha's chest, idly tracing patterns on his bare arm.
"Time for bed, milaya," he murmurs.
She shakes her head, though, far too comfortable to think of doing anything as horrendous as actually moving.
"Let's stay here," she whispers.
She wants to keep the cosiness of this moment for a little while longer, to enjoy the peace and tranquility of this space Sasha has created, where thoughts of work are far away.
"Just this once, I suppose," Sasha says without any of his usual commentary about how they'll end up with bad backs if they don't sleep on a proper bed.
She can see right through him – her husband is just as eager to stay right where they are as Alina is.
They both fall asleep in minutes, under the twinkling glow of the fairy lights.
And it's the best night sleep she's had in ages.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
You can find me on Twitter under the username Keira_63. I pretty much just post mini prompt fics.