A Taste of Honey

He’d marked each of them the year after. At home it had taken that calendar up on the wall and nagyanya’s quiet chiding to have them all scrawling on paper – or scrabbling together enough coins to pick up a shop bought one when they flew into the town – or rushing around the village, trying to find something that would work for a present in a place where you couldn’t just push through one of those glass doors to stare at the cabinets full of glittery things. In the plane, or in quiet corners of the back street bars he would retreat to as he tried to find the darkest parts of the city to see, he would like a match for each of them on the days still ringed in tight red circles in his head. The words they always sung as those few tugs plucked at their ears rumbling out in a voice Viktor knew wasn’t tuneful. A candle if he could find it, if not that small light, a prayer following hoarsely, the burn of tears. Years marked they wouldn’t see.

Aliz was going to expect this as the new year broke in a handful of months. The taste of home that he was giving to her. Viktor had been able to hear his little sister’s biting tones rolling through his head as he had picked out the gift for the elderly woman to wrap. The woman who lied about being pregnant with his baby? The one who’d kept them from him with all her lies and games. Bolond. Better a fool than a puppy.

Like there wasn’t some measure of an apology with this. For Aliz’s behaviour, for not having known that they would all show up here, with hurt in their tone and the flash of anger in Aliz’s eyes at least. Not too much though. Harmony’s games had kept him here for months, consuming every thought of leaving. Consuming him. Every move had Harmony’s fingerprints on it.

Which made getting his fingers on her earlobe all the more satisfying. That quick tug, the glare that flashed as she hissed at him. Not expecting it, any of this today. Surprise was going to bite the same way she did, the nip of teeth delivered with that gloss of satisfaction. Viktor smirked, flopping down on the bed beside her, back propped against the cheap headboard, one leg stretched along the edge of the mattress with his boot hanging off – he wasn’t all savage. ”Not fuck,” he echoed. ”Surprise. Boldog születésnapot.” Happy birthday their way.

Viktor made a low sound in his throat, tipping his head back against the wall to watch her from under those auburn lashes. His lips curled, the equally ruddy beard surrounding them outlining his smirk. ”Secret,” he crooned. Fingers had traced the lines of information, Harmony’s history, who she was on paper at least spread out in front of him while she’d been out drowning in them. He pushed the thought away as that burst of temper over them rolled back in like music cutting through static on the old radio they’d had in the workshop at home. ”Puppies go shopping?” he asked, winging a brow. ”Rich puppy maybe.” He wasn’t rich, nowhere near close enough to avoid the man in the second shop from looking down at the thin fold of leather in his hands in disappointment.

Leaning forward, Viktor placed one gift, the second, down on the bed between them. The larger box, the one with the white chocolate and raspberry cake awkwardly shifted from the nightstand to his thighs. ”I take back … if you not want gifts? Cake though … cake stay. Tastes too good to …” Viktor mimed tossing it as he toyed with the edge of the box. He wanted that taste of home, had wanted to share it with her when she’d never said a word about today.

Tagged: HARMONY * Word Count: 654
Translation: Fool/Happy birthday

The ugly-ass language she got enough of when it suited her? Viktor’s smile twitched brighter, his tone affectionate when he should’ve been growling about fucking communists. ”Bullshit,” he rumbled softly. Maybe if he hadn’t just woken her up those spikes would already be shoved in his direction with the sort of venom that got under his skin and turned these moments of something soft into that raging torment that seemed to please her. He preferred it this way, the barbs just sharp enough to be a tease instead of draw blood, something of Harmony showing that he usually wasn’t allowed to see.

As she sat up he angled towards her. Harmony wasn’t going to crack entirely, that would be too easy. He still had to work for this, like it meant nothing if it didn’t cost him something. The presents certainly had, more than he could probably afford given he hadn’t worked anything more than odd jobs here and there, the sort that paid with cash straight in his hand, since the hunters had arrived in the village.

Viktor dangled the idea of taking the presents back in front of Harmony, like he could coax the thank you out of her with a little manipulation. The corners of his lips quirked higher, blue eyes rolling. ”Birthdays not proper birthdays without cake … but you no want, I eat. My favourite. Family tradition.” That he’d wanted to share with her. Not raspberries picked from the bushes like they would have back home, cream fresh whipped and the chocolate bought special from the town when they flew out. Kept out of the hands of the kids so it wasn’t eaten ahead of time. He’d missed the taste of that as he’d seen the bakery box the cake up for him – a single square for the chef, hmm?.

Gathering the paper up as she set it aside, Viktor began to fold it neatly, like it was precious. He watched Harmony though, her fingers working up the sheath to extract and open the knife. ”Sharp,” he said proudly, knowing the sting it would’ve brought. He’d have taken her hand, kissed it away, but not with the blade in her hands. There was a certainty in his grin when it came, one ruddy brow rising. ”You no cut my throat when I sleep. Protection. For you.” To use on the men that always came for her. More blood on her skin maybe, more fear to be washed away from shivering limbs in the shower, but she would come back to him.

He set the first piece of paper aside, went to work the same way on the second when that was unwrapped too. Heat rose the high line of his cheekbones with this one. More frivolous in looks at least, but once the charm was on it the necklace would protect in its own way, like the blade. Viktor frowned, reaching out a finger to send the necklace swaying slightly in the air. ”Is pretty,” he argued. At least to a man’s eye. The stone had been the important part. ”This for protection too. Protection for you.” It was cool against his fingertip, although he knew the obsidian would warm when it sat at her throat. Like her skin always did for him in the end, so hot against his mouth and fingers when he let himself give in to the temptation.

Warm now. Viktor smiled into the kiss as Harmony rose to knees and pressed her lips to his. The paper crinkled in his fingers as his hand came up to her hip to stop the two of them from crushing the cake. ”Szívesen, kicsim.” Probably the first time he’d heard her use Hungarian without spitting it like bullets she was trying to pierce him with. ”Alex can put spell on, another protection, yes?” He’d have taken it to his brother first, but he’d wanted to wait until after he’d given it to her. Now Viktor was carefully easing up, scooting forward a couple of inches to carefully grasp the two ends of the necklace. He let the silver trail over her skin, fixing the clasp at the nape of her neck. The backs of his knuckles ran lightly down the back of her spine, his lips pressing just below the clasp for a moment before he inched back.

The heat that had been in his cheeks settled into his throat before he hauled the cake box up into his lap. A shield between the two of them for a moment before he let all this petal softness lure him into something he knew would only grow more thorny if he wasn’t careful. He would reach for Harmony and find himself bleeding as she gleefully let himself get cut. ”They put candles … for lighting, blowing out … wishes …” Viktor lifted the lid of the box, tugging a lighter from his pocket. All those traditions stacked atop one another. Each one left him scrambling with the next to cover up that spot inside of him that was only growing more tender. Before … No, not now. He lit each of the candles, bathing the dim room in the light of the candles.

Tagged: HARMONY * Word Count: 869
Translation: You're welcome, my little one

She might threaten to, in those moments where she tried to push away just to get him to push in further, but Harmony wouldn’t cut him in his sleep anymore than she would leave him. As his grandmother had tied herself to his grandfather in the war torn streets of Buda in the 1940s, he and Harmony had ended up tied together there eighty years later. They could both tug at that tie, see it as a restraint, chains, but the truth was something they weren’t going to speak aloud, even on a day like this. It rolled out in those tears instead, the snort Harmony shot him, the things that didn’t need to cross the language barrier.

Even Harmony’s language was softened now though. The threats about the knife, the grumbling about the ugliness of the necklace, all bullshit, like he’d call on her earlier. This was what she should have had, not the violence, the bleeding, the men with their demanding, pawing hands and Viktor was glad he could give it to her. Aliz might not have understood that, Harmony either, but he would keep telling her in whatever way she was going to accept because this didn’t end here.

Family. Harmony. All one and the same now. Held onto as tight as he could, that tie snapping tight around his wrists in a way he didn’t hate, even if it frustrated her at times. Strengthened with the knife, the necklace, all to stop it from snapping, from him losing her.

Viktor felt his throat thicken at the thought. He had felt his grandfather’s hand go loose in his, had watched his parents fight even as he took off in the plane. He had lost and he wouldn’t again. Alex’s magic would help with that. His brother willingly tying those bonds around his own wrist because he could see. Family.

A kicsikéje. His little one. Beaming at him in a way that had him smiling into the kiss that came with a tenderness the two of them didn’t always manage. Warmth, not that scalding heat that threatened to boil him from the inside out. There in his throat as he ran his fingertip one last time along the line of where the silver chain lay against her skin. They could ask Alex later, take them all a piece of the cake, although Aliz would probably look at it as though the raspberries had been laced with something to kill rodents.

This was going to taste like home. Viktor felt the tug in his chest at the thought, picturing his father doing the same with matches. Touching one to each candle before the cake had been swept into the room. Flames glowing, lighting up the excited face of whoever got to blow them out. His eyes rolled up to Harmony’s as he put the lighter away. ”Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Harmony, happy birthday to you.” There was a hitch in the words, his brows furrowing as he switched from the far more clipped single boldog születésnapot that it would’ve been at home. It was then that they’d have started pulling at the celebrant’s earlobes. Slanting Harmony a grin, Viktor reached up again to give hers a single light tug. ”Blow.” Her eyes closed, tears breaking to run down her cheeks before she did as he asked.

He shifted, like he would draw her in and brush them away, but Harmony was pulling away. Hiding it from him. By the time she was back with the forks in hand they were nearly gone. Viktor shifted, the cake box between them, his hand reaching past it to settle on her thigh and squeeze. That silent moment of support. The cake would make it better, like it always did. He angled his own fork, carefully nipping a piece off the other side. He lifted the fork almost into a toast, slipping his slowly into his mouth so he could catch her reaction before he bit down. ”Good, hmm?” he prompted, letting out a small sound of delight himself. Almost as good as it had been back home, even if it wasn’t his grandmother’s hands that had whipped the cream or infused it with just that little bit of what she had sworn was magic, but was definitely just love.

All of this was him trying to do the same – not to make Harmony cry, although feelings often made it all one and the same. She wouldn’t look at him now, those eyes like a summer sky over the village fixed on the cake and not his as she found her voice. No more tears spilling, not for a moment at least. One corner of Viktor’s mouth hitched up, a blue eye winking. ”Varázslat. Magic.” Really he had seen it in her papers, the ones he should not have pawed through when he found them. They had shown him little parts of her she had held back though, the stark details of a life far more complex, far sadder than that. ”You’re welcome.. Is best cake.” One of the only holdovers from home he’d been able to bring with him, other what he held fisted in his chest.

Viktor leaned in, resting his knuckles on her chin, brushing his thumb under her lip as the fork fell away again. Like he was brushing away a speck of the sweet cream before the backs of his fingers skimmed lightly across her cheeks. ”Nowhere but here. We stay. Eat all the cake maybe.” A mouthful each left for his siblings, his cousin if they were lucky.

It was like the gifts, the cake, the celebration today, had unlocked something in her that he hadn’t expected. Viktor scooped up another mouthful of cake as Harmony spoke, his eyes on her and not the full fork though. The admissions of what life had been like before that grimy alleyway in Buda and the killing of the men he had been sure were going to kill her. ”Sajnálom. Ezt neked kellett volna adnia.” What kind of parent wouldn’t to do that for their child, to see just a moment of light in their eyes. ”A shitty excuse,” Viktor echoed, ”but, still mom.” And that made it all the worse.

Setting his fork down in the box, Viktor shifted on the bed. He hauled it up onto his lap, patting the space next to him as he settled with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out, where he could slip his arm around her, draw her close enough to soothe that knot in his gut if she would let him. His grin slowly creased his face, his other hand leaving the box long enough to tug at his earlobe again. ”Traditional, but always celebrate. Cake … always after dinner, not before. Gifts, all made with …” He wiggled his fingers to demonstrate that they were usually homemade.

”All family there … most of village. Lots of peach brandy… cold, steal your breath.” He puffed his out, like a cloud of vapor would emerge, the way it had done for so much of the year there, even before you were old enough to be allowed to have a glass from the bottle. The last couple of years that had included him, his grandfather winking at him that first time. The memory clawed at his chest now, left his brow furrowing just a little as he reached for the fork again. They were all gone now, almost everybody who had sat around the table then.

Tagged: HARMONY * Word Count: 1264
Translation: I'm sorry. She should have given that to you.