Even if meeting Lev is a disaster, he'll still have had these two weeks. They've been a really, really good two weeks. 

On the day of the meeting (and it's probably indicative of something that he's calling it "the meeting," like it's strictly professional and not his introduction to someone he might be marrying) he dresses up, because he can do that now, spends probably too much time calming himself down. 

The first thing Lev says when he opens his door is "oh, you're beautiful", in a tone of wonder.

"--sorry, sorry, I know I shouldn't, sorry. come in?"

That's...actually really cute. 

"Thank you," genuinely pleased. He comes in, sits down, remembers the advice he was given about posture, adjusts, wonders if he looks like he's fidgeting, decides not to care, folds his hands so he has something to do with them. 

"I... do you want to see your rooms?"

— Right. Contract said no sex, so separate rooms. (Rooms, plural. Weird.) 

"I would, thank you." He's still earnest about it. 

His bedroom is purple. His feet sink into the carpet when he walks into it. There's an enormous empty bookshelf that takes up an entire wall, and a huge east-facing window that takes up the other wall. The bed is huge and there are four blankets and innumerable pillows, and there's a couch that looks like it could swallow him up. 

"Do you like it?" Lev asks anxiously. "I can get someone to redecorate if you don't."

He hasn't had his own room since — he doesn't think about that. 

"It's gorgeous, I love it." 

"You also have a bathroom and a study and a little kitchen in case you want to make yourself something in the middle of the night or when the staff are using the main kitchen."

Sasha's half-convinced he's going to wake up any minute now — this doesn't happen, not to people in real life, certainly not to him.

"Can I hug you?" 

"...yes?" Lev says uncertainly.

As promised, he's good at hugs, firm-but-not-crushing and soft-but-not-limp. 

"It's gorgeous," he repeats, "I love it, thank you." 

Lev clings onto Sasha like he's afraid that if he lets go Sasha is going to turn into smoke and waft away.

About thirty seconds into the hug he is also noticeably hard. 

Okay that's a little weird but Lev very clearly needs the hug and if Sasha lets go now he'll be so awkward about it and really the awkwardness-minimizing thing to do is to keep holding on. 

Lev really really needs a hug. 

He is not going to let go of his own accord. 

He gives it a couple more minutes before he squeezes and then lets go. 

"Really, thank you," with as much sincerity as he can put behind his voice before it loops around to sounding sarcastic. 

"No, thank you."

He wonders why Lev thinks Sasha did him a favor for roughly half of a second. How touch-starved must he be?

He shelves that line of thought for when Lev isn't literally right there and instead takes his shoes off and tests out how soft the couch actually is. 

The couch is, in fact, incredibly soft.

He makes a noise like a pleased cat and curls up in the corner of it and glances over at Lev. 

Lev sits on the couch as far away from Sasha as possible!

Huh. Weird. Well, he's only known the guy for about ten minutes, if he clings to Sasha and then avoids him that's not really Sasha's to poke at yet. 

He curls up smaller and sinks into the couch and makes another mrr sound, keeps an eye on Lev's expression. 

Lev is staring at him like he is the most wonderful thing in the world. His hand hesitantly moves towards Sasha's hair and then he stops and pulls it back.

Cute! Kind of weird given how long they've known each other but wow is Sasha disinclined to bite the hand that feeds his gift horse, or whatever the fuck. 

"You can touch my hair if you want." 

Lev reaches out really slowly, pets his hair and sighs. "It's soft." He strokes it a bit more and then says "you don't have to let me touch your hair if you don't want to. I don't-- want to make you do things you don't want to do."