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“If you come anywhere near me while I’m cooking I’m going to gut you and add you to the dish.”
Despite all the cruelty that had been lauded at him for years, Ilya hadn’t become unkind, had been merciful to him, a single-minded monster whose sole satisfaction was killing and consumption. He was a soft soul who’s wounds were never allowed to heal. Ilya cared for him so much, even when he didn’t need to. Even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d been such a fool.
Besides, you’re going to destroy your back if you keep sitting like a sausage link.”
but he couldn’t make Danya do something he didn’t want. If he got cold he’d have to cry about it.
“And what type of women do you like?” “Not teenagers! I guess I could be with an older woman though.” “I won’t have somebody’s husband whom you’ve wronged coming to my church to chase you around with an axe.” “You’d laugh at me, don’t lie.”
“Tiny miracles from the Great Mother. Proof that she hasn’t decided to abandon us yet.”
He's so dramatic and I love him
“You have a first aid kit then, since you can’t heal yourself?” “Under the sink. Try to not hit your head on the counter.” “I can manage, Ilyushka.”
Ilya was torn between fury at having his sink damaged and arousal from the sheer strength Danya possessed. It was both, if he was being honest with himself.
Real
you make me dinner all the damn time like you’re my fucking househusband and I’m useless.
Ilya let go of Danya’s hand, only to find it reattaching. “Ilyushka, my hand is cold, let me keep holding yours.” It was the lamest, most ridiculous excuse Ilya had ever heard in his life,
“Father Sokolov. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in my shop. I thought you hated it,” she chuckled. “Oh, make no mistake, I still wish to leave immediately, but Danya needed something for a project. I’ll stay here by the door and hope my breathing doesn’t knock the shelves over.”
Berta frequently hit him with rolled up newspapers for running his mouth when he shouldn’t.
“Do you need help, Danylko?” “Fuck you, I can do this,”
He’d make an absolute fool of himself any number of times if it made Ilya happy.
“You’re an angel.” “Thanks, but what the fuck is wrong with me, Ilyushka?”
“That spot’s, uh,” Danya stammered, “Sensitive, I guess.” “Yes. Quite.” Ilya promptly turned away from Danya. “I’m going to make breakfast now, good bye.”
Normally he’d be threatening Danya’s life for distracting him like this, but the tension between them was so thick he couldn’t think to do it.
“First the confessional, now this?” “Hey, you started it with the confessional. Besides, I’m an angel. I make the rules or whatever.” Ilya rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s how it works.”
“You’re a big man I see– Bless your mother for Her generosity.” Danya didn’t want to think about his Mother right now, actually.
More like Danya enjoyed making Ilya desecrate his altar every week. “I asked my mom and she said it’s fine” is what he’d said. What a bold, terrible lie.
He’d choke and die if they tried it now, which was a decidedly unsexy thing to do.
