I wrote this while on vacation last summer.

Kurda loves how much Mika loves it here.

But more importantly, Mika loves it here.

Vacation Mika might be Kurda's favourite Mika variant. It's a close tie with Toddler Dad Mika. But that title expired over two and a half decades ago. So Vacation Mika it is.

Kurda can tell how badly Mika needed this, and how ready he was to leave the Mountain behind for a little while. How long? They don't know. Mika jokes about never going back. Kurda rolls his eyes and counters with, 'speak for yourself, I haven't worked there long enough to take that much time off'. Mika's face darkens. It's fleeting, but it's enough to remind Kurda he's settled his score. That Kurda doesn't owe anyone anything, and Mika will remind him as often as he needs to hear it.

So, Mika loves it here. Kurda can't decide how he himself feels about this place from one hour to the next. One minute he's lying on the couch with his head in Mika's lap, eyes closed and half-listening as Mika watches a new episode of his favourite show (the news). The next minute Kurda's going to the kitchen for an ice cream and having a flashback to Desmond Tiny sitting at that table in that chair and suddenly he can't remember what he came in here for and his hands are shaking and it's taking everything in him not to cry and it's so painfully irrational but that doesn't help and his heart is pounding and his palms are sweating and —

"Babe, do we have the waffle cones?"

Vacation Mika obliviously follows Kurda into the kitchen and poses that query in the exact same tone and severity with which Sire Ver Leth might ask, 'were there any survivors?'. But Sire Ver Leth has tapped the fuck out. Vacation Mika is at the wheel and he's feeling snacky. He'd tried his first waffle cone down by the pier last evening and apparently couldn't remember how he'd functioned before that.

Kurda takes a deep breath and shakes it off. He's not there anymore. He's here.

"Does this look like ice cream parlour? Grab two spoons." Kurda snorts, laughing and shaking his head as he pulls the tub of Ben & Jerry's out of the freezer. "You're just lucky the general store carries cookie dough. Gods, leave it to you to prefer the most expensive flavours."

Mika smiles like that's a compliment, but he's detected something's off. Kurda can see it in his eyes. It's the subtle softening of his brow and eyelids as he wordlessly asks Kurda — what's wrong?

Kurda sets the ice cream on the counter so he can wrap both arms around Mika, silently answering him — everything, and nothing. I'm good. I love being here with you. It's just a lot. Everything's always a lot. But I'm okay.

He knows he can talk to Mika about this. He does. All the time. He just doesn't want to talk right now. About anything.

Mika gets it. He holds on. Holds Kurda close to him. Kurda shuts his eyes and lets his heart and lungs regulate themselves, using Mika's as a baseline.

And with that out of the way, Kurda's mind is free to remember what drew him to the kitchen in the first place — a deep hankering for ice cream. He bounces himself up onto the countertop and pats the area beside him, signalling for Mika to join him there.

They sit side-by-side, eating ice cream straight out of the tub til the rising sun in the east-facing window drives them back to the dark sanctuary of their bedroom.

For the first time since they arrived a week ago, Kurda feels like he might be able to love it here too.