Work Text:
It started with the little things.
It was your first day as an administrative officer on the Rainbow Six base and you were already running around like a harried rabbit. You had taken but two steps into the office, fifteen minutes before your stated reporting time, when an older woman had glanced at you and simply went, “Ah, good.”
The next thing you knew a pile of documents stamped in red screaming “CONFIDENTIAL” was dropped into your hands and you were shooed off to another department three corridors down. That lovely trip had led you on yet another errand, this time on the other side of the base, with another pile of documents this time declaring them “CLASSIFIED” before you could even breathe a “Hello” to the people you presumed were your new colleagues. You haven’t even seen the internal map of the base yet, and did you mention you were ever so slightly directionally challenged? Then again this was not outside your realm of expectations when you took the job. Or when you went through all the rigorous screening procedures that was sure to have you “silenced” should you ever speak a word of it or anything even remotely related to your new job.
You were lost you think, as you weaved and dodged any other individuals in your path. But your presumed colleague had insisted the documents were needed urgently and they needed to be hand delivered NOW. Some might have scoffed and said emails existed for a reason but you understood why some things remained paper-based given the nature of the organisation. But well, there was no such thing as convenient as a random floor map on a wall or maybe you could spare a second to ask -
You crashed face first into a very, very solid wall. The unique scent of paint and cedar floated through your senses, a vague feeling of two strong arms going around your back. Your hands had instinctively gripped the pile of documents tighter in attempt to save the whole stack from flying everywhere, but you could still hear the sound of fluttering paper around you. You inhaled quickly, getting more of the paint and cedar into your system, as you looked up into a pair of sky-blue eyes. Your vision quickly noted the scar on his right eye. You never knew it was possible for scars to form there but it somehow made him even more beautiful, as he steadily gazed back at you.
Timur would later tell you he stepped into your way on purpose, wanting to catch the ethereal butterfly that one day appeared on this isolated base. You would also flush heavily in embarrassment as you were shown the sketch he had drawn on that day, unbeknownst to you that he had been observing you since the start of your frantic first day at work.
“I am so sorry! You squeaked out breathlessly, pulling away quickly and feeling the arms, and it’s warm steadying presence, slip from your back.
“нет, the fault was mine.” The man replied, his Russian accent curling around his words as gently as his tone. Flustered, you ducked your head and bent down to begin gathering the scattered papers. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man crouch down and pick up the sheets that had fallen further away. He handed you the stack as you stood.
“Thank you,” you ducked your head again. Then swallowing your shyness, you asked, “Um do you happen to know the way to the Legal department?”
“да,” He replied affirmatively, inclining his head slightly. “I can show you the way if you like?”
“Oh yes, please! I’ve not familiarised myself with the place yet so I am honestly a little lost.”
“да, I know. Not everyday you see a new rabbit running around the base. Lots of running happens in this base, that is why the floor is non-slip.” He smirked, scuffing his boot against the said floor to emphasise his point before turning around and walking in the opposite direction of where you were originally heading.
“Ah ha ha, please sir forget you’ve seen anything.” You laughed awkwardly as you started to follow him.
“Unlikely.” He threw over his shoulder, his head turning slightly to look back at you, eyes glinting with something you could not identify.
As you both made your way to your destination, you passed several people, most of them greeting the man. It was how you learnt that his name was Timur or otherwise known as “Glaz”. You could already tell from the way he carried himself and the muscled definition of his physique that he was likely one of the operators, the core of which this organisation was basically built around. It did make you wonder then if he should be spending his precious downtime helping a lost newbie administrative staff. But seeing as he offered, you weren’t about to it turn down. Not if you didn’t want to potentially get fired on your first day.
“Ah, here we are.” Timur stopped at a door that helpfully had an attached plaque embossed with the word, “LEGAL”.
“My sincere thanks, Mr Glaz.” You bowed your head gratefully, “I won’t take up any more of your time.” You start to move towards the door, only to be blocked by his arm.
“Timur,” he looked at you in amusement, possibly because of the deer in the headlights look you were likely giving him right now. “Please call me Timur. I would say Mr Glaz is my father but he does not go by that name. And yours?” You almost stuttered out your name, feeling increasingly flustered from the way he was looking at you, with such studied interest you didn’t know if he wanted to dissect you or… no. You mentally shook yourself. You were here to do your job not give yourself to your wild imagination. Then, he repeated your name, his accent making it sound like one of the most exotic and sensual -
“IreallygottogonowmrTimurthankyouforallyourhelpbyehaveaniceday!” You blurted out and dodged past him into the Legal department.
Home safe. You thought in relief, only to jump at the sound of a loud voice booming, “Timur! What are you doing here? Our briefing room is in the East Wing!” You weren’t given a moment to further process this information as you were then accosted by a harried staff asking for the papers in your keeping.
Smiling at the memory, Timur would reveal that Alexsandr could have of course spoken in Russian AND a more normal tone. But well, the older man had seen Timur making “moon eyes” at you and wanted to have his fun.
-S-
It was always the little things.
You’ve have had a harried day, and it was only the early afternoon. You stood with a clipboard in hand, supervising and answering the questions of the maintenance worker as he checked the soundness of the equipment and fixtures in the lounge. You had many more rooms and two other pending tasks to attend to after this one.
You bit back a sigh as your eyes wandered away from the task for a moment, noting the few other occupants of the room. Your heart traitorously fluttered as your eyes landed on a certain sniper, seemingly drawing away on his sketchbook. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up, blue eyes meeting yours as he smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. Your breath hitched and your cheeks coloured at the embarrassment of being caught staring. Waving back shyly, you turned your attention back to the maintenance worker who was asking you another question.
By the time the maintenance check in the lounge had wrapped up, he was gone. Telling yourself you weren’t disappointed, you trudged on towards your next task.
-S-
“I can practically hear it my friend,” Alexsandr laughed loudly, then gestured dramatically. “She is beauty, she is grace, she is a bunny I can’t get out of my head.”
“That doesn’t even rhyme.” Shuhrat muttered.
“Bah, you get the point.” The older man waved dismissively. “Timur’s got it bad for that little one.” The man in question merely smiled, his hand not missing a beat as he focused on finishing the drawing. A few more strokes, a subtle signature and he was finished.
“That is quite well done, Timur.” Maxim hummed, looking over his fellow operator’s shoulder.
“What’s well done?” Lera asked, having overhead the comment as she was passing by.
“Come see Lera,” Alexsandr steered the woman over, “Timur’s drawn the new bunny on the base.“ Lera wasn’t sure who or what they were referring to but smiled softly at the sight of the drawing.
“She’ll love it I think.” She reassured the artist. He did hope so, Timur thought, as he carefully detached the piece from the sketchbook.
———
The end of the day found you collapsing tiredly onto your desk chair, with thankfully not much else to do but to shut down your computer and rest. You glanced at your desk and realised there was a piece of drawing resting on your keyboard.
Picking it up carefully, you realised it was a detailed sketch of you. It was done in profile. The clipboard and pen held gracefully in your hands while your head was tilted upwards, presumably to face the maintenance worker who was on the ladder earlier. Timur had somehow made you look like the very picture of softness and grace when you had felt nothing but frumpy and tired. Hell, even his signature looked cool. Written below were the words, “You are doing wonderfully бабочка.” Your fingers traced the space beneath the words. You didn’t know what the Russian term meant nor were you even able to begin to read it. Though hopefully one day you’ll be able to find out.
You could remember the look in Timur’s eyes the day you moved in with him and had reverently pulled out that very drawing, now framed and carefully treasured. He had taken you into his arms then and there and kissed you tenderly. You asked then what did the word mean?
“It means butterfly, for you were the colourful butterfly that fluttered into my life and changed it.”
-S-
It was definitely the little things. The way he would observe not only people but also the surroundings. The little crooked smile he’ll give you when you bumped into him in the hallways. The way he would sit down beside you at the cafeteria or at the lounge, or anywhere really as long as he wasn’t disturbing you from a task. The way he would listen to you ramble, nervously and flustered at first from the attention the sniper was paying you, then getting lost and excited in whatever you were talking about and forget yourself only to realise, blush and apologise. How he would gently wave off the apology and asked about something so specific that you have mentioned that you wouldn’t have thought he would have caught it. How it was followed up by genuinely interested questions that showed that he literally listened to your entire ramble. How when you asked about him, he shared several stories ranging from funny to happy to sad…and how his mouth spread into a warm smile when you thanked him for sharing anything remotely difficult.
You could go on and on about the little things he did, from the way he pulled out a chair for you to the way he tried to teach you Russian and chuckle in amusement when you butchered the words, poking your forehead when you pouted. How he tried to teach you how to draw even though you had negative artistic abilities. How his lips twitched as he tried very hard not to laugh when you told him it was a canary when he just attempted to praise you for the “good dinosaur” you have drawn. How he had at one time caught you singing as you worked and didn’t say a thing, watching you as you swayed gently and sang, until you turned around and noticed him, blushing heavily as you saw how he looked at you with a grin on his face. How he would good-naturally endure the ribbing from his colleagues, especially the Spetsnaz unit and when you tried to save him by shyly saying you were just friends, Alexsandr would laugh boomingly and declared then if that was true he was the King of Finland. The mysterious smile he gave you that day had your heart racing. The endless little things, they increased every single day, adding to your growing list of why you fell hopelessly in love with Timur.
There was of course the bigger things. Like how you would sometimes meet him coming back from a mission, and seeing the look on his face, you would ask if he wanted company. Sometimes he would say no, other times he would say yes. The times he accepted he would shower and meet you in the lounge where you sometimes listened to music or watched movies. He would tell you to pick and it almost always ended up being a happy animated film, with him asking you teasingly at the end if that’s what you really liked. Regardless of your answer, he always genuinely smiled and thanked you, ruffling your hair affectionately as he left. Other times you sat together in silence, each with a mug of drink in hand. Sometimes you would talk and other times he would just quietly pull you into a hug. There were also the times you were scared, frustrated or tired. When you didn’t want company but he knew better. He took them all in his stride, coaxing you out gently. He always knew the right words to say, murmuring words in both English and Russian, a soft touch here and there. It almost always ended up with you crying into his chest, embraced by his strong arms that made you feel that nothing in the world could hurt you while he was with you.
They were only tiny pieces and snapshots of your relationship with Timur, little and big moments that sometimes came into focus at random times in your mind. Like the time you accidentally had too much to drink.
It was the year end party at Rainbow Six base, a time for everyone to relax a little, to forget everything for awhile and just to have fun. You were never one for parties since after all, even on a good day, you tended still to be on the shy side. Given Rainbow Six’s unique nature, it was amusingly unsurprising that you were far from alone in being the kind who hung out awkwardly in the corner. Of course the more extroverted colleagues soon came and dragged their victims into the party, with you being no exception. You were sat down in the middle of your team whom you’ve grown closer with over the course of the year despite the rather frantic start to your job here.
A drink was pushed into your hands and you were assured by your colleague that it wasn’t that strong and one glass would be just fine without getting drunk. Taking a sip of it, you found it to be just the right balance to your liking. Your colleagues flitted in and out around you, sometimes going to mingle with other people while others pulled their friends to your seating area. Hellos, introductions and talks were exchanged all around you. You engaged in some of these interactions but mostly you sipped your drink slowly and observed the party around you. Laughter, smiles, dancing and conversation flowed among operators and non-operators alike. You even caught sight of Timur standing with some of the Spetsnaz and other people you didn’t quite recognise. As if sensing your gaze on him, he turned and locked eyes with you. He smiled and raised his glass of drink slightly in your direction. Shyly, you did the same, hastily trying to cover up your blush with another sip of your drink. You could swear you saw him chuckle before turning back to the group conversation.
After that… well you don’t remember much after that except this strangely dream-like moment where your colleague seemed to be panicking about something vaguely to do with the “wrong drink” and “meant for someone else“ which “contained really strong liqueur.” You giggled a little from your low view on the sofa, watching one blurry colleague facepalm and the other looking really flustered. Wait? Why was your view so low on the sofa? There was also this smooth leather smushed against your cheek. And why was everything so blurry and fuzzy?
“Well at least she’s a quiet and sleepy drunk.” A deeper feminine voice that sounded a lot like your team leader spoke. “Just be careful next time. Go on, I’ll look after her. These old bones are getting tired anyway. But we’ll probably need some help to get her back to her room.” Your heavy eyes shut for what seem like a moment. Sleepy, must rest… You drifted off, the sounds of the party becoming a distant thing until a very familiar Russian-accented voice filtered into your hearing.
“солнышко, ah… what happened to the little one?” A calloused hand softly brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. Throughout the explanation that concerned something about a wrong drink, you tried to find the strength to open your eyes, curious to see who that was. You finally succeeded after a while, sighting only a blurry pair of pants before you.
“Hello.” You whispered slowly to the pants, finding it hard to form the single word. The pants seemed to disappear, magically forming an image of a handsome face with a pair of icy blue eyes, the right one scarred.
“Доброе утро, little one. Did you have fun?” The eyes twinkled and the handsome face smiled, making even your drunken heart stutter.
“Mhmm.” You hummed sleepily and smiled. That was one really tasty drink. Oh and it was always fun to see people laughing and smiling.
“That’s good.” The calloused hand was back, patting your head lightly. “Ma’am, I can see her back to her room.”
“Alright. If it’s you Mr Glazkov, I trust nothing will happen. I heard you both are good friends.”
“Да. On my honour, ma’am.” The beautiful eyes came back into your blurry vision. “Come солнышко, its time to go.”
“Bedtime?” You slurred questioningly.
“Да,” Carefully, he hoisted you up in his arms. “Somebody had a little too much alcohol.”
“Who?”
“Someone who is very cute when drunk.” You scrunched your nose as you thought hard. Bunnies were cute.
“Bun-nee?” That drew a rumbling laugh from the man holding you.
“Да, a bunny.” Huh, never knew bunnies could drink. Did rabbits drink alcohol?
You were a little confused why the noise of the party seemed to increase with shouts and sounds that seemed like wolf whistles and why the warm man holding you good-naturedly yelled back “замолчи!’ The sounds slowly died away as you both moved further away from the venue, until all you could hear was his breathing and his footsteps.
“You smell nice.” Your mouth formed the words of the first thing that came to your drunk mind.
“I do?” He chuckled. ‘I’m surprised I don’t smell like alcohol and food with how much there was in there.”
“No… warm cedar and you.” You mumbled sleepily, choosing that moment to give in to the urge to bury your face in his chest.
“Mmm, as long as it pleases you солнышко.” His wonderful voice flowed over you, the warmth and scent of him embracing you.
“I really like you.” You murmured, unaware of the words you were saying. You weren’t sure if there was a pause or did you just zone out?
“Do you now?”
“Mhm, heart feels fun-nee. Warm.” A yawn escaped you, sleep was certainly luring you in. A tender kiss was pressed to the top of your head. “Sleep little one, I’ll see you back safe.” Fully trusting him, you gave yourself over to the sweet melody of slumber.
You woke up the next day in your bed, sheets tucked neatly around you and feeling strangely refreshed. Frowning, you tried to remember what happened last night at the party but most of it was pretty hazy. You noticed a glass of water and some painkillers on your nightstand along with a note. Picking it up, you realised it was written in Timur’s handwriting, “Hope you won’t need this in the morning. But just in case.” A sharp sense of clarity hit you and you remembered. Face burning in embarrassment, you buried your face in your pillow and screamed.
-S-
It was childish, but you avoided him since then. As someone extremely observant, it was likely that Timur noticed from the get-go. Still he was patient, giving you the space you needed and still smiling kindly when he saw you. Days turned into weeks and you still didn’t know what to do with your feelings nor address the way you acted. You were so embarrassed that despite practising ways and approaches you could take to handle the situation, you still were too cowardly to do so. You wondered if you should bite the bullet and just confess your feelings. The sense of insecurity overwhelmed you each time, questioning what if he didn’t feel the same? What if doing so ruined the friendship you had? Perhaps you should just let it go and let you both be on your merry way. You were in Rainbow Six. You were meant to support the organization, letting its operations run smoothly and aid the larger world at stake. You’re not here to distract and flirt with one of their important operators. Heart undecided but remembering your purpose of being here in the first place, you hunkered down and focused on your work.
-S-
“Thanks everyone, we’ll reconvene here with updates next week.” You exhaled, shutting your notebook and organising your papers. Absently, you thought of your next task as everyone around you prepared to exit the meeting room. The first of your colleagues reached the door and greeted someone who was apparently waiting on the other side.
“Ah, Mr Glazkov do you need this meeting room? We’re just about to vacate it, so its all yours.” Your breath hitched as you heard his name. You looked up and your eyes darted to the door, confirming that Timur was indeed standing there and it wasn’t a trick of your hearing.
“Thank you, but I am just looking for someone.” His smooth voice replied, his blue eyes sliding slowly across the meeting room as people filtered past him, immediately locking on to you.
“Ah I see, well thankfully this is the last meeting of the day…” You tuned out your colleague as you hurriedly began to pack up, your time rapidly running out as most of your colleagues have already left. You cursed painfully and silently as a folder of your papers spilled out everywhere on the floor. Crouching, you began to gather your papers, only to freeze when a stack of papers was extended towards you. You froze, before looking up slowly to see Timur looking down at you. The door of the meeting room was closed and you were alone here with him.
“Seems like the first time we met.” The Russian commented softly. You swallowed slowly, then took the papers from him with a whispered thanks before standing up and slipping them back into the folder.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” It was a statement, one where there was no room for excuses or counters. Not looking at him, you clutched the folder to your chest and nodded timidly.
“I would ask why but I think I have a good idea of the answer.”
“I have to go.” You whispered and turned to leave. His arm shot out, planting firmly against the wall and preventing you from even taking a single step. Before you could even think about going in the other direction, he was there, crowding you in against the wall as you futilely tried to put some distance between you and him. Timur leaned in, his gaze burning into you.
“Нет, not this time.”
You were so close that your breaths intermingled. You were trapped, his strong arms on either sides of you, caging you in. There was no escape for you even at the height of your shyness where your body was screaming for you to run to safety. You didn’t know where to look, his face mere inches away from yours.
“солнышко, look at me little one.” You raised your eyes to meet his, once again noting the unique scar in his right eye.
“Good.” And then his lips was on yours, slowly and tenderly kissing you. Your eyes fluttered close and you made a soft sound. He groaned and shifted, his arms now pulling you against his body. You gasped at the movement and he deepened the kiss, tongue tangling sensually with yours. Your hands clenched the folder in your grasp, the back of your hands brushing against his hard chest as pleasure flooded you. Your head slowly turned into fluff as you shyly kissed him back, eliciting another groan from him. He parted briefly, only long enough to whisper, “You drive me crazy, солнышко.. the sounds you make…” Then he was kissing you again, a little rougher and wilder this time, eliciting yet another sound from you that he so liked. After several minutes, you parted once more. Panting from the heat of the kiss, you both looked into each other’s eyes.
“солнышко, please. Stop avoiding me. I have tried to be patient but I cannot wait any longer. Stay with me, be by my side.” After that kiss and the feelings it conveyed… there was no longer a question in your mind.
“Yes.” You breathed simply and watched as the most brilliant smile spread across his handsome face, his eyes lighting up in awe and joy. Your surprised squeak turned into a smile against his lips when he lunged forward and kissed you again. This time, you let the folder drop, both of you ignoring the scattering papers as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and caressing his thick hair.
It was indeed fortunate that it was the last meeting of the day. For you and Timur were lost to the world for a very long time.
-S-
You sat snuggled against Timur, slowly looking through the picture book he had gifted you. It was filled with page after page of sketches, drawings and paintings of you. There were several blank pockets left waiting to be filled, with room to add even more thereafter. For the future memories. They spanned from when he first saw you to even one that was done three days ago according to the date he had inscribed on the piece. They captured precious moments in your relationship, also eliciting even more memories associated with them. The countless little things that made you love Timur. The endless little things that he loved about you.
You saw how he saw you, though you’ve complained multiple times you didn’t remotely look that beautiful in reality. He would always laugh and kiss you, saying that he would endeavour to work harder to show you that the full extent of your beauty couldn’t even be captured in his art.
“Why aren’t you in any of these?” You pouted, as you carefully flipped the pages. But he was - in two particular pieces. You felt your breath hitch and you could feel tears start to gather in your eyes. You could feel him watching your reaction lovingly.
One showed a moment in time when he proposed to you. He was down on one knee before you, looking up at you with the most brilliant smile. In his hand, an open ring box, revealing the beautiful ring that now sat on your finger. You had your hands covering your mouth, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. Below, was a simple caption in both Russian and English. Она сказала да. She said yes.
The other was of your wedding. You were standing side-by-side, your hands intertwined. You were resplendent in the wedding dress of your dreams, the happiest smile on your blushing face. He was breathtakingly handsome in his suit, and he was looking at you with the tenderest expression. Моя любовь, мое сокровище. Тебе... я навеки посвящаю свое сердце, тело и душу. My love, my treasure. To you...I eternally dedicate my heart, body and soul.
“You look much more handsome than that.” You said, your voice wavering with emotions as you looked up at him.
“Is that important?” He chuckled softly, gently wiping away a tear that escaped from your eye. As always, he sensed the things you couldn’t express underneath your shyness.
“Yes…no…I love you Timur. My heart, my body, my soul and everything I am is yours too.” You whispered. You looked into his beautiful blue eyes, noting the scar on his right eye that has now become familiar.
“And with all of me, and everything I am…Я тебя люблю солнышко.” He sealed that vow with a slow, tender kiss.
It was the little things and the big things. But if you closed your eyes and counted, you’ll find there was no end to the little things that undeniably made you love Timur "Glaz" Glazkov.