Chapter Text
Making dinner goes slowly, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a domestic moment that Sampo could hardly believe he was invited to take part in, and listening to Natasha’s gentle humming beside him made it all the more wonderful. It’s calm and happy, far from the constant stress and tension that saturated his life nowadays, like a massage for the soul. It’s nice, to put it simply, to feel welcome.
“Well,” she sighs once they’re done, “This doesn’t look terrible.”
“It looks like the best meal I’ll have had in years, good or not.” He snickers, serving her first. Sure, it’s not the greatest food, but the company makes it better. They sit together on the couch, quietly eating, nothing fantastical. Sampo’s heart, however, can’t seem to register that he isn’t in danger.
I’m fine! He internally scolds, Aeons, why am I so tense? If she was going to hurt me, if anything was gonna happen, it would have by now! No reason to be scared…
Still, whenever her eyes flit to him, he can’t help the flutter in his chest or the paranoid flinch in his legs.
“So,” she starts, mouth still partially full, “Other than getting beat up earlier, how was your day?”
“Hm… pretty good. Made some good money, played with the Moles for a while. It was nice. Of course, this is probably the highlight of my day.” Sampo laughs, crossing his legs. “How was yours?”
“About as good as usual, nothing too shocking or fun today. Other than seeing you.”
“Which is shocking, right?”
“Any man climbing through a second story window with no balcony is shocking, but if it’s you, it’s fun.”
He chuckles. “Aw, but I’m going for both!”
She swats his shoulder, and he tries in vain to avoid her. “You jerk.”
“Hey, don’t hit! I can only be so attractive with this many bruises, y’know? There’s a point when it stops looking rugged and looks more like I need a wellness check.” He laughs.
“You’re the only man I know who says he looks ‘rugged’ when he’s hurt.”
“But am I wrong?”
Natasha rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Yes, you are. I almost think it’s cute you think that way, though.”
“Why almost?”
“I don’t want to encourage you. Don’t get yourself punched because you want people to think you’re attractive. You’d be wasting your time, especially with me.”
“Jeez! No one can take a joke in Belobog…” He laughs, standing.
Does she think I’m not attractive or something? Was that what that meant? He barely manages to steady his hands long enough to put his dish in the sink. No, this isn’t something to freak out about, of course I’m attractive! Calm down, she was probably just unclear… Does that mean something? Maybe it is something to freak out about…
“You want me to clean this?”
“Oh, I got it,” She smiles. “You just relax, you’re a guest.”
“Well, thank you.” He chuckles, easing back onto the couch like his heart isn’t going to explode. He leans back lazily, sighing, “So, how have you been? It’s been forever since I really asked about you, and not just the clinic or life generally.”
She hums. “I’ve been great, I’d say. I’ve had good sleep, had a great bath last night, no one has died recently— other than breaking my nail yesterday, I’ve been really well.”
Sampo flicks his bangs from his eyes. “That’s good! Honestly, it’s probably best that I’m the most excitement you’ve had.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She sighs. Sampo puts his arm across the back of the couch, a kind of silent offer for her to come closer. “How have you been, hm?”
“Ah…”
If he’s honest, not great. Aside from the whole living-in-a-cave thing, business hasn’t been fantastic, this is the first full meal he’s had in days, he’s been embarrassingly lonely lately, and his mental health is way worse than it was last year. (Probably because of the whole “tragedy that will befall Jarilo-VI” thing, but who’s to say?) Now, how would you very, very vaguely tell that to someone? That, friends, is what lying improv is for.
“Well, business has been a tad slow. I’ve been kinda mopey because of it, but it’s nothing that ol’ Sampo can’t fix! But uh, I did come home super late last night because a thing I had to do ended up taking ages— long story— so it’s probably not great that I'm up right now… but hey, I’ve been pretty good, otherwise.”
“You’re not the only one with a messy sleep schedule…” Natasha sighs, as if the bags under her eyes don’t bother her. “I do hope whatever’s keeping you up at night gets resolved, though.”
He jumps at being caught. She laughs— loudly, with her full chest— assumedly at whatever flustered face the conman’s made at his brutal ego death. Jeez, is he that bad at lying improv?
“Oh, calm down… but yeah, I know that look in your eye, Sampo. Something’s bothering you. I may tease you, but I’m here to talk if you need me, okay? Call me or come to the clinic anytime.”
Sampo just nods dumbly.
“I won’t make you talk about it. And, ah… sorry for… embarrassing you, I guess. You are pretty obvious when you lie, though.”
“What?!” He stammers. “That’s, uh, only because you talk to me too much.”
She laughs again, and leans back into his outstretched arm, making his heart feel like it’s going to be eaten by the butterflies beating around in his body, not helping with the pit in his stomach. She really needs to stop being so… her. Effortlessly wonderful, enchanting if you wanna be annoying about it, and it’s going to kill him before too long.
Why are you this way?? He thinks helplessly, not knowing if that’s directed at himself or to her.
“By the way,” she begins, leaning dizzyingly close to him (which isn't close at all honestly), “Are you wanting to stay the night here?”
“Depends. Can I raid your pantry in the morning?”
“If you want stale cereal for breakfast, be my guest.” She snorts, earning a dramatic eye roll. Natasha stands. “Alright… I’m gonna go get changed for bed. I’d give you something to wear, but ah… you know.”
He smiles, “It’s fine, I typically sleep in my day clothes anyway.”
“Is that because you crash, or because you don’t have a change of clothes?”
Pulling at his collar and looking away, he smiles wryly. “Well…” I’d really love to not be able to say “both”!
The doctor sighs, turning to leave, “Alright, okay, keep your secrets. I’ll be back,” snickers Natasha, “Don’t steal anything.”
Sampo deflates once she’s out of the room, still trying to calm his erratic heart. Something’s just… off, something has to be. Things are going way too well! Slumping over, he puts his head in his hands, pressing the heels to his temples and trying to breathe steadily.
Can’t even be in someone’s house without freaking out. What a joke! He huffs, This is all just a friendly stay, and I know that. I don’t even have to stay, I shouldn’t feel as trapped and freaked out as I do— I do wanna stay! He takes a deep breath in, and chokes trying to get it out. I want to, but I feel like as soon as I do, something horrible will happen. Why else would I have this nasty, sick feeling in my stomach?? Why else would… you be here? Sampo curls in on himself further, trying to stop spiraling. Probably not a good look to have a breakdown at a pretty lady’s house, right??
Something’s gonna happen, but what… what would it be…?