Work Text:
The train pulls in on time, as usual. Russell shades his eyes against the piercing noon sunlight, squinting into the windows as the train slows to a stop. The glare is too much to see anything through the glass, so Russell steps back into the scant shade left by the overhang. The heat hangs low and heavy in the valley and Russell is still sweating from a morning spent in the grove.
The brakes make a shrill screeching noise as the train slows to a stop, sending light shivers down his spine that doing nothing to dissipate the heat. Russell glances up the platform, squinting into the crowd of passengers as they step down in to the sunlight.
“Looking for someone?” a familiar voice says behind him and Russell whips around.
“Maybe, why?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turning up.
The man in front of him shrugs in an attempt at nonchalance before giving in. He drops his suitcase with a thump and wraps his arms around Russell.
Russell melts gratefully into to the embrace, his arms snaking around Ed's neck and nose pressing against his hair. They exchange no words after the time spent apart - they never do - that will come later. They pull apart eventually, when the heat between them becomes unbearable and Russell leans down to pick up Ed's suitcase.
It's a short walk back to their house, down a dusty trail, and between the rows of trees that are Russell's life work. The shade leaves mottled designs on the path front of them as Russell slips his hand into Ed's, unable to resist any longer.
The house is dark and cool, thanks to some well placed symbols, and Russell pulls Ed into the kitchen to sit him down on the nearest chair. Russell takes out a pitcher of lemonade from the ice box – fresh squeezed that morning – and fills two glasses. They rest in silence for a little while, savoring the cool air.
“I won't need to go back for another month, at least,” Ed says finally, relaxing into his chair with a sigh. Russell leans against the counter and watches him turn his gaze outside with a quiet smile, the grove visible through the kitchen window.
Russell nods, pleased. “We should should visit the lake,” he adds, something he'd been thinking about for a few days.
“I'd like that,” Ed replies, setting his glass on the table and moving to stand next to Russell at the sink.
Ed places light palms at Russell's hips and they angle slightly into each other, Russell's hand ghosting up Ed's arm.
“Meet you upstairs?” Ed asks, looking up at him from under his bangs.
“I'll be up in a minute,” Russell affirms, brushing his thumb along Ed's collarbone. Ed gives one hip a brief squeeze before he turns and disappears up the stairs, dragging his suitcase along behind him.
Russell rinses out the glasses, leaving them to dry on the board. He wipes his hands and then the counter before placing the pitcher back in the ice box all the while humming softly under his breath.
If Russell walks a little faster than usual to get upstairs then, well, no one needs to know but himself.