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Minhkhoa curses whatever force of nature decided Canada needed three more feet of snow right now. And he curses Luka for sending him out just before a storm.
Though, he is sure Luka just wants him out of his sight. He’s been getting restless. He’s gotten the hang of archery, he’s practically mastered the task. But, as per usual, they’re stuck waiting on Bruce.
Waiting on him to finally ‘get it’. For him to stop lagging so far behind.
Something sadistic tells Minhkhoa that maybe Luka wants to keep Bruce all for himself. Even with separate lessons to test and sharpen their skills, which Minhkhoa breezes through, Bruce still lacks. He’s beginning to wonder if Luka is intentionally training Bruce at a slower pace. Most of their teachers seem overly fond of him.
Not that Khoa hadn’t been. Seven billion people on the planet and no one had ever caught his eye the way Bruce had. But unlike everyone else, Minhkhoa had never been so grossly obvious about it (or so he thinks).
Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Luka sent him out to hunt on his own so often so he could frisk Bruce up and have his way with him without Khoa getting in the way.
No. No, thinking that thought will make his blood boil.
Bruce would never. He was far too attached to Minhkhoa.
But, hey, if it keeps him warm as he stomps his way through knee-high snow, dragging the extremely heavy carcass of a buck through the frost behind him, well…he can allow himself to indulge in a few fantasies of decking Luka in the face. Both over Bruce, and for no reason at all.
He can’t feel his face anymore. But he can just make out the lights of Luka’s cabin in the distance, through the falling snow, and powers through the last stretch, dropping the ropes he’d been using to haul the deer along. He leaves the body in the falling snow. He’s done enough. If Luka wanted deer meat so bad at a time like this, he can deal with getting the body over to the shed and getting it cleaned up.
Let him spend too many hours out in the cold until he can’t feel anything anymore.
Before Minhkhoa can get to the cabin door, it swings open, and a very worried Bruce rushes out.
“Anton!” Panicky, as always, Bruce crowds his space. Not as small and lanky as he used to be, but still smaller than Minhkhoa. Bruce has to look up at him to get a glimpse of his face. “Anton, you should have come back the second it started snowing! It’s been coming down hard for over two hours now, you can hardly see a thing out there!”
Bruce is worried. All Bruce does is worry. About everything.
He doesn’t know how to relax.
“Luka was adamant about restocking the freezer before the storm gets too bad and every little creature and critter goes in to hiding,” Minhkhoa says, shooting a smug grin over Bruce’s shoulder at the other man, standing further inside the cabin.
Although he tries not to show it, there is a hint of amusement to Luka’s expression. Minhkhoa knows of course, he’d only sent him out there in hopes that he’d waste a few hours trudging through snow and freezing his ass off only to come back empty handed. A lesson in humility. Or perhaps Luka was just seeking a small window of peace and quiet before being snowed in for the next five days with Minhkhoa for company.
Regardless, Minhkhoa was never one to back down from a challenge. If Luka wanted him to go out and hunt, then he wasn’t coming back until he had something to show.
“Get inside,” Bruce says, pulling him in through the doorway. “I made dinner, it’s still hot. You need to eat something, it’ll help warm you up.”
Luka shuffles past them, grabbing his snow gear from the bin beside the door.
“I’ve got to clean up and store the deer carcass properly in the shed before things get too bad,” Luka says, to no one in particular. Minhkhoa is purposely not listening, and Bruce is too busy worrying.
Minhkhoa hadn’t even noticed he’d been watching Luka step outside with a look of disdain, until Bruce’s voice pulls him out of his brooding thoughts.
“You didn’t have to go out there. He shouldn’t have told you to. We all know he wasn’t expecting you to find anything. He just wanted to be a prick. That was stupid and dangerous of him. What if you’d gotten lost.”
“I’d find my way back.”
“Not in the middle of a snow storm, Anton!”
“I’d figure it out.”
“That isn’t the point.” Bruce reaches up, cupping Minhkhoa’s face in his hands, and his frown grows. Exponentially. “Your face is freezing! can you even feel that?”
Bruce all but shoves him down on to the rug in front of the fire place, snagging a blanket off of Luka’s sofa, and draping it over Minhkhoa’s shoulders.
He’s doting.
That’s dangerous. For Bruce. Minhkhoa grunts and peels his wet gloves off, stretching to lay them against the bottom ledge of the fire place and tucks his numb hands against his underarms, watching the flames before him dance. There’s something soothing about it. The way fire moves with no rhyme or reason. How it could consume everything in its way with no remorse.
He could strive to be fire. He’s already consumed Bruce, it seems. It wouldn’t be so hard to consume everything else.
Bruce shuffled over from the stove and kneels beside him, a bowl of soup in hand, interrupting Khoa’s thought process.
“You’ll feel better after eating,” he says, setting the bowl down on the floor before them.
“I never said I felt anything less than,” Minhkhoa responds, looking away from the fire. “That is your assumption.”
“I know that you haven’t eaten yet,” Bruce lowers himself to sit beside Minhkhoa, “and that you aren’t impervious to cold weather. You bitched about the snow in Kirigi’s Dojo. You bitched about the snow when we first got here. Any time the weather requires a real jacket, you complain about how wearing a heavy jacket ruins the look of your outfit, but I know that it means you’re cold and you don’t like it, Anton.”
And he’s not wrong. Every word he says is full of truth, as unfortunate for Minhkhoa as it may be. Yet he can’t find himself to be as annoyed as usual with Bruce’s attachment to him.
“And,” Bruce picks up the bowl, taking hold of the spoon and scooping a bit of soup on to it, “I think you like it when I take care of you.”
“I don’t. And I don’t need you to look after me, Bruce. You’re the one that’s behind. You’re slowing me down, even. Every time we—“
Bruce puts the spoon in his mouth, effectively silencing Minhkhoa.
The soup is good, he can’t deny that much, and the hunger that claws at his stomach prevents him from continuing the argument once Bruce pulls the spoon out of his mouth. Bruce repeats the motion, scooping more soup on to the spoon and returning it to Khoa’s lips. The food seemingly warms him from the inside (that’s what he tells himself), and he welcomes every spoonful Bruce offers, never having to remove his hands from where he’d tucked them against himself to warm them.
Outside, the snow falls quickly.
Some time later, Luka trudges back in to the cabin. He instructs them to take shifts, sitting awake to be sure that the fire doesn’t go out. The closet down the hall is stocked with wood he’d brought inside a few days back to keep dry in preparation.
“You should sleep first,” Bruce decides, putting the now-empty bowl aside. “You’ve had an exhausting day. You could use the rest. I’ll stay here and watch the fire, you can go to the room and get some sleep.”
“I’ve had enough of you telling me how I feel. I could use you being a lot quieter. Perhaps it is you that should sleep.” He’s teasing, but not really. Minhkhoa makes no move to retreat to their shared room. Instead, he lays out on the floor, folding his arms behind his head.
Bruce frowns and lays beside him, pillowing his head against Minhkhoa’s chest.
“You’re a bit difficult, Anton,” he sighs, his lips find Minhkhoa’s neck, peppering soft little kisses against brown skin. “But if you want to sleep here, then go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on the fire.”
“But not your hands to yourself.”
“No.” Bruce’s frown lifts, just a bit, and he snakes an arm around Minhkhoa’s middle, pulling him closer, leaving more kisses along his jaw and against his cheek.
Minhkhoa’s own arm moves to hold Bruce in place.
Bruce is doting. He’s worried. He’s attached.
That’s dangerous. It will be his downfall someday, Minhkhoa thinks. And most days, he finds it annoying.
But tonight, and for the rest of the week, while they’re snowed in with only each other and Luka’s annoyed glances for company, it will keep him warm.