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[CLOSED] hey, neighbor!
Who: Vasiliy Y. Ardankin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
m1895) & Aziraphale (bibliophilicbells)
When: Backdated to early January.
Where: 212/214 Mockingbird Lane.
What: Everyone loves shoveling snow!
Warnings: Smoking, some initial toxic masculinity/transphobia possible in internal monologue.
m1895) & Aziraphale (bibliophilicbells)When: Backdated to early January.
Where: 212/214 Mockingbird Lane.
What: Everyone loves shoveling snow!
Warnings: Smoking, some initial toxic masculinity/transphobia possible in internal monologue.
[ The man shoveling out the half-cleared driveway of the Ardankin household cuts quite an image: he stands in the calf-deep snow in a blue tartan robe meant for indoor wear and pajama bottoms, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he bends forward and mechanically chucks load after load of snow onto whichever bank on the side of the driveway is closer to where he's working. Occasionally the shovel's broad plastic lip scrapes across the cement with a grating clash, but it doesn't affect the good clip he's working at, not necessarily indicative of experience or form but certainly suggesting enough upper body strength to compensate for both of those things in the short term.
Vasiliy pauses to straighten up, his back cracking as he does so, and removes the cigarette from his mouth with an ungloved hand to cough a few times as he rests a forearm on the handle of the upright shovel. Early-morning exertion's never been his favorite, but he can do it, if he has to. He dabs a modest amount of dampness from his brow with the arm of his robe and turns back to the edge of the driveway only to pause when he sees the middle-aged neighbor struggling to do the same thing.
Shit. He was really kind of hoping to just go inside and finish the third cigarette of the morning and have some black tea and warm up, but it wouldn't be right to leave someone past his physical prime to toil away at a pretty long driveway when he clearly doesn't know what to do. Vasiliy sighs, replaces his cigarette, and picks up the shovel again, walking around the steep bank he's created to cut through the snow on their side yards with high, deliberate steps while waving an arm to get the man's attention. ]
Do you need help?
Vasiliy pauses to straighten up, his back cracking as he does so, and removes the cigarette from his mouth with an ungloved hand to cough a few times as he rests a forearm on the handle of the upright shovel. Early-morning exertion's never been his favorite, but he can do it, if he has to. He dabs a modest amount of dampness from his brow with the arm of his robe and turns back to the edge of the driveway only to pause when he sees the middle-aged neighbor struggling to do the same thing.
Shit. He was really kind of hoping to just go inside and finish the third cigarette of the morning and have some black tea and warm up, but it wouldn't be right to leave someone past his physical prime to toil away at a pretty long driveway when he clearly doesn't know what to do. Vasiliy sighs, replaces his cigarette, and picks up the shovel again, walking around the steep bank he's created to cut through the snow on their side yards with high, deliberate steps while waving an arm to get the man's attention. ]
Do you need help?
no subject
Bullshit!
He's abandoned the shovel by this point and taken to kicking the snow out of sheer frustration. The offer of help falls not on deaf ears, but unwilling ones.
Aziraphale huffs.]
This is absurd! I thought we were supposed to be in California! Since when does it snow in California in 1961? Global warming isn't even an issue yet, what in the entire fuck β
[Sorry, neighbor.]
no subject
He doesn't point out that it does snow in Northern California, at least from his limited understanding of American geography. Instead Vasiliy just shrugs gives him a sympathetic look, watching his breath and the smoke from the end of his cigarette crystallize in the cold air. ]
Freak weather? I do not know, I lived in Chicago first. [ A beat. And then, because he knows well enough that it can be a balm: ] You smoke?
no subject
He sighs.]
It seems I do.
[It's time to just admit, already, that he's got another Bad Habit.]
β if that's an offer.
no subject
no subject
Then, rubbing at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb as smoke drifts over his head:] I do hate this weather. Never had to worry about... shoveling driveways in London.
no subject
It is not snow that bothers me. I am Russian. Part of life. [ He takes a last drag and bends down to extinguish the butt in the snow, then tosses it in the direction of the street with enough force to ensure it doesn't land on the driveway. ]
But I am from city. I never had driveway to shovel, grass to mow, any of it. I am learning.
no subject
Culture.
Aziraphale sighs, wistful.]
Oh, how I miss it. You're... new-ish to town, yes? I've seen you come and go. I'm afraid we're not the best neighbors.
no subject
[ He shrugs, then pushes the shovel down into the snow and tosses a foot-tall slice of it onto the yard. ]
It is okay. You are not noisy, you do not have annoying dog or screaming arguments. That is good neighbor enough for me.
no subject
But. Here he is, chilly and tired and soft. He leans on his shovel for a moment, then goes back to it: what he manages is about half of his company can do, but it's something, at least.]
Thank you for the help. What's your name?
no subject