Work Text:
Sasha was...
He could think of many words that started with S, that could describe him. Solemn. Solemn? Well, yeah, he certainly took to his duties with a serious resolve.
Steady. Yes, Sasha was an extremely even-mannered person. Even when Leonid could tell there was an undercurrent of irritation in his voice, it never surfaced to the very top. He had a pragmatic approach to work, delighting in the availability of manuals, checklists and runbooks.
The inexperience of others never phased him, but sloppy work always did. As did failure to follow protocol, and shortcuts that were taken due to expediency when pressures mounted from various administrations. Oh, how he hated those pressures. Inevitably, they were passed down lower and lower until they sank onto Sasha's very own shoulders. And as the control room shift foreman, Sasha bore his duty to be the shite umbrella for his crew with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Leonid certainly appreciated that part of him, on more occasions that he could count.
But that's Sasha the worker. What about Sasha the friend? Sasha the very intimate friend? Now he is flooded with words that start with C.
Cautious, for sure. But how could he not be, when the kind of love he practices is forbidden? Quite the contrast to his by-the-book persona. Sasha had told him once, that when he articulated that fundamental truth about himself, he eventually made peace with it. And over time found a host of ways to mitigate questions, deflect interest, to keep that part of him in the shadows.
To survive, one had to be careful.
Caring. That's– maybe he should have started out with that one. Sasha cares, extremely, to a fault.
Leonid counts himself as lucky that it is often him that Sasha cares about.