Ough.
His hand feels warm. He smells wonderful. I mean, I'm pretty sure he does. The unladylike snot makes it hard to know what he smells like in this exact moment.
Not the point.
He's so gentle, his eyes so warm. It looks...like all he's seeing in this moment is me. Not the world, or the clinic. Just me.
I-
This would be a good time for a kiss, if not for...
my...everything.
Dammit.
I sigh. This is the second time something interfered with a perfectly good moment! (Nevermind the moment only exists because of the rain. Nevermind that.) First there was the ball-
"Ah!" I gasp, apparently so suddenly it startles poor Viktor.
"Is everything alright, Miss Ophelia? Is this about being ill? Please, if you will just lay down a moment -"
"The opera!!" I stand up, tossing the blankets off, and Viktor catches them neatly in the air.
"Opera?" His confusion is endearing, especially paired with the bewildered tilt of his head.
I shake my finger. "You and I!!! I owe you an apology, Viktor! For...for inconveniencing you." No, I'm not obviously coming up with this on the fly. Psh. Pssh.
"There will be an opera in two months. I have-an...an extra ticket!" Well I certainly will by then. "It will be...grand. Beautiful! There will be lots of singing! And food, and I would be honored if you could accompany me as my escort."
I nod. That's quite sufficient. Very normal. That covers everything!
Viktor blinks, a bit stunned, but then a small smile graces his lips. "Do you ask everyone who takes care of you for free to attend opera performances?"
"Nope. Only you."
Viktor chuckles, shaking his head. "...You didn't deny being treated for free, I see...I can only imagine the fate of the other poor doctors you trip into. They must be truly beleaguered to find themselves tangled into your troublesome charms."
"I am neither a trouble nor a charming girl!"
Wait.
Wait.
One of those was a compliment. Oop.
I quickly recover by shooting him a (sulky) glare that says definitively 'hey I caught that, you didn't trick me'.
Viktor laughs softly and reaches out to push a strand of hair away from my face.
His touch lingers for the briefest moment against my temple before he retracts it, and the spot on my head where his hand once was feels colder for the absence. "Of course. Well. Since you insist so passionately...it would be an honor to attend an opera with you, Ophelia."
This time the smile he offers me is gentle. Warm.
My heart melts in response. I smile at him. "Then it's decided, Doctor! It will be the date...er. That is...the occasion upon which we shall attend the opera together, two months hence."
A flicker of an emotion crosses his face so fast I can't discern what it was, but he recovers with a wry smile.
"...Then, I shall ensure to be free at the date of the performance, my dear Ophelia. Now. If your very important invitations are through...let's get something warm in you. Perhaps some soup?"
"That...does sound delightful..." I confess. Now that one of my goals is achieved...maybe. Just! Maybe! I do feel a little chilled and dizzy. But I'm not sick.
I am, however, looking forward to spending a few hours getting cozy with Viktor. I subtly curl up in the blankets once more. Not because I'm sick, but because it's cold.
He fetches a bowl of chicken noodle soup from his stove, which he made himself. From his grandmother's recipe. I know this, because I know my Viktor.
My Viktor who is not just an excellent doctor but an excellent cook. And seamstress. Though I guess that last one isn't relevant right now.
This soup is the sort that warms up the body, with just the right amount of spices that keeps you from sweating through your clothes and overheating.
It's the perfect blend of refreshing and delicious.
"Oh this is marvelous," I tell him, as I lean back in the chair with a happy sigh. Just getting to eat Viktor's cooking...for the first time...for real...would definitely cure my illness if I had any.
(I don't, I repeat to myself firmly. I absolutely don't!)
"I'm glad that it's to your liking," he replies, watching me as he stands next to his desk, resting his hands against the edge of the polished wood.
My gaze traces the lines of his face as I cradle the soup close to my lips, warming my fingers around the mug. "Why don't you sit down and relax too? It feels silly that you're on your feet while I'm sitting here relaxing."
He makes a noncommittal noise as he picks up the chart in front of him. "It's hardly work to watch you eat and be enthusiastic over something simple as a homemade meal. It's quite nice, honestly."
I stare at him, feeling a rush of emotions bubble up in my chest, so many feelings and words and I don't even know where to begin expressing any of it. "That...you are the nicest person I know."
Viktor smiles fondly as he tilts the file up so he can see it better.
"...That is...unlikely. But it's kind of you to say so. Now. I insist you rest a while before you return home, given the rain shows no sign of letting up. Perhaps you should retire to the office - or perhaps I could prepare the room we usually reserve for overnight patients?"
"I'm fine -"
Viktor stares at me, his eyebrow raised, and I flush, hiding behind my spoon. It is not the most effective strategy, but it's all I have. Ultimately...I'm not so stubborn as to argue over it- not when the alternative is to be close to Viktor a while longer.
"The...room, please."
He nods. "I shall go and prepare the room for you. I won't take long, then I can properly see to your comfort. My apologies for the delay, Ophelia."
Viktor gives me a slight bow and goes off into the overnight room.
The moment the door is closed, I let out a groan, sinking into the back of the chair.
Okay.
Maybe the universe is actually conspiring on my side, instead. This...is definitely a perfectly good trade-off for getting a little drenched.
And not sick.