we built this city on broken glass

Those very words, uttered within his native language, had surely been a long time coming. Emotions were perhaps not his greatest skill. Frost so eternally seeming to struggle with not only their expression but too- in receiving them from others. The stoic man very near uncomfortable in the wake of zealous affection or overly emotive words. Yet, these words, he knew, were perhaps well overdue. He had known for months exactly how he had felt about Nadya. Even if it had taken him some time, initially, to fully understand that feeling. He could hardly help that look of surprise upon his features all the same. Frost so hardly having anticipated those words to be offered at all, let alone within his native tongue, here and now upon the plane. His sudden request for her to repeat those words so seemed to prompt that look of uncertainty upon her own features then as she attempted to re-word them- only for Frost to insist he knew. Those words leaving him almost unbidden and yet he could hardly deny the truth of them. Frost finding he meant each and every one of those words. He did love Nadya. And he had done for a long time now. This the very first utterance of those words he had ever given another outside his own Mother. They were, in some fashion, almost a relief to say. Some measure of satisfaction finding him in the moments that followed. A soft simper tugging at his lips as she insisted that she knew. Both of them, it seemed, having known that truth for some time.

She lent easily toward him then to press her lips to his own, Frost readily returning that kiss. The stallion, despite himself, quite assured he would like more than just that single kiss in that moment and yet her very suggestion of sleep was....almost as tempting. Frost far, far more exhausted then he was willing to admit. That sleep found him far, far more quickly then he so anticipated it might. Frost sleeping for near the entierity of the first leg of that journey. The snowy-haired man missing near all of those meals the plane provided and yet he so hardly found he cared. Sleep, that day, far, far more important than food. By the time Nadya woke him at that lay over Frost was near inclined to admit he felt...better then he had in some days. The Icelandic man content to trail after Nadya as she hurried from one duty free shop to the next in clear delight. How much she seemed to....enjoy being in that foreign country. The airport alone seeming to thrill her- perhaps to much. Nadya herself appearing distinctly more tired than before by the time they boarded that next flight. This time, it seemed, it was his mats turn to sleep. Frost, in turn, content to make up for those meals he missed before settling to read as Nadya slept. The stallion finally waking her when they landed within Cyprus. It had been....years since he had last been here and yet that airport still remained in much the same fashion as he remembered it. Frost navigating that airport with ease before leading the way to that taxi rank to offer the driver those instructions for where they wanted to go. That sun-drenched city a far, far cry from the frozen tundras and snow fields off his own homeland and yet....how much he missed Iceland all the same. His attention was stolen away from the window then by Nadya's own words.

"A few days at least, four or five."

They would have to move on again after that, just to be safe and yet they could, slowly, start making their way back through Europe then and towards home from here. Frost considering those next plans for several moments before the car pulled up outside that hotel. He slid easily from that backseat then before reaching for that single bag to sling it over his shoulder. Frost turned briefly to follow Nadya's gaze towards that gleaming ocean and hot sands of the beach. A simper finding his lips at the eager glee that seemed to find his girlfriends features. Perhaps they were...international fugitives, but, in the very least, they might find time to enjoy it. Frost easily led the way into the hotel then as Nadya commented upon that need for a swimsuit, his girlfriend readily leaning into him for that elevator ride upward as she insisted on sunscreen.

"I will need more than that, no part of me is designed for this level of sun."

Sunscreen, sunglasses, a long shirt and a hat in the very least. His naturally pale skin and snowy locks so hardly designed to assist him in those sunburnt landscapes and yet, for awhile, even he was willing to admit that sun might be nice for a change. Frost easily carded into that room, leaving Nadya to explore that lavish suite and wide window that offered them a view of that new city. His own attention shifted to that bed with its folded towel swan and chocolates. Frost reached for the first of those sweets before slipping it between his lips. The view was, arguably- rather nice. Nadya's suggestion to make that call back home prompted that ready nod from the man. Frost easily fishing his phone from his pocket to make that call and assure himself Malia still had everything under control as Nadya moved to explore the rest of that lavish hotel suite. Their house, in the very least, was still apparently standing. Frost wandering toward that large window as he spoke to glance out over that cityscape once more. Cyprus a far, far cry from the ice and snow and openness of Iceland. Yet, maybe for awhile, that sun and warmth would do them both good. He was largely oblivious to the sound of that water running as he queried malia on whether or not she was remembering to eat something other then raw meat and take the mail from the mailbox. That very hesitation in the coyote's voice assuring him that despite her firm yes- he suspected she had forgotten male existed and was likely, at any moment, to run down and collect over a weeks worth of mail in one go.

The sudden feel of fingers grazing lightly upon his back readily saw the stallion turn, his violet gaze lingering upon Nadya's slender, feminine figure as she strode away and toward the bathroom. He could hardly help the fashion his eyes watched the way her shirt was easily cast aside as she moved. Her pants shucked effortlessly from her figure all the same. That very want tugged potently at him then. Frost very near forgetting about that phone conversation entirely. Malia's continual shouting of his name so at last managing to draw his attention back to that call only long enough to end it and assure the pack Nadya and himself were fine. His Mother, he was sure, would manage to get hold of a phone in a few days. Frost having left his number with her for when she did. Thoughts of even that, however, were distinctly far from his mind as he moved to follow after Nadya and into the bathroom. The sight of his mate lingering in that tub nothing short of wholly appealing. Frost hands reached readily then for his own shirt, pulling that fabric up and over his head before tossing it to the ground, his jeans following a moment later as he loosened his belt, that denim material falling to the ground a moment later. Frost gently kicking that pile of clothes aside before moving to step into that tub in turn.

That water was nothing short of glorious. Frost unable to prevent that sound of satisfaction that came with sinking into the warmth of the water, his violet gaze so momentarily fluttering closed. That they had survived to come even this far was a miracle in itself. Frost, so finally, after all those years, having achieved what he had set out to do. That....level of satisfaction near foreign to him. Such an idle thought was cast aside for now his eyes flickering open agian to meet nadya's own as his fingers toyed with the water's surface.

"I remember, once, a few years ago, sharing a hot tub with you. If I remember correctly- you ran away."

How very well he remembered that night. That evening having been one of the first kisses they had shared. Even if it had resulted in Nadya fleeing. That very memory stirring a chuckle to his lips then before he leaned gently forward.

"I think you ought to make that evening up to me."

Those words were little more then a cool, quiet utterance. Frost pressing his lips eagerly to her own in the wake of them, one hand running smoothly down her side, the slickness of that water so making her skin feel all the smoother and near silken beneath his touch as his hand came to rest upon her waist.

Surely they had time to celebrate so being alive.

FrosT