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Sigma was not the least bit surprised to find Fyodor tucked away in one of the small conference rooms deep within the belly of the aerial casino. There were plenty of easier conference rooms to access, but that also came with the caveat of a higher chance of interruption or of being seen. Not that being seen matters within the domain of the aerial casino. Here Sigma is the ultimate authority, recognized by other countries as an independent state. If Fyodor so wanted, he could sit in broad daylight and legally no one would be able to harm a hair on his head so long as Sigma didn’t allow it. But such was hardly a spot for the winter demon to be found.
He didn’t bother to knock; he was certain Fyodor had likely already figured out it was him from the soft sound of his footsteps. It wouldn’t shock him however if the Russian had set up his own security system in this area after Sigma refused to let him into the casino’s. They both knew he was plenty capable of getting in with or without permission. If Fyodor wanted to, he could. But he didn’t at the request of the angel who stayed at god’s right hand.
“Fedya.”
“...Mm.”
Sigma raised an eyebrow slightly, arms folded across his chest as he sat himself on the edge of the desk.
“Are you actually listening this time, or are you just responding as you think you should base on my tone? “
There was a minute delay, brief enough most would have missed it, but it was long enough for Sigma to notice that it deviated from the usual response time. It was also enough to answer Sigma’s question even without Fyodor’s confirmation that he was listening a few seconds later. Still, he allowed a soft smile, shaking his head as he watches violent eyes refuse to leave the screens he was looking over. He reached out, a hand catching Fyodor’s before he could begin to chew at his fingernails while lost in the halls of his cathedral-like mind.
Sigma sighed softly, though the tone carries fondness in it rather than irritation. “When was the last time you took a break?” He inquired, silver eyes meeting violet when Fyodor lifted his head to look towards the manager.
Silence hung in the air for a moment as gazes remained locked before it was Fyodor who broke the silence with a “…What day is it?”
It was always somewhat astonishing to Sigma how different he could be at times. When Fyodor was deep in a plan, everything ran to a set rhythm, like music being orchestrated by the conductor. But when there were no pressing matters at hand that demanded his attention, when God sought refuge in the halls of the haven in the sky, he could forget to eat or sleep. Naturally, it was an angel’s duty to look over the god and see to it that he was properly taken care of least he neglect himself any further.
Sigma pulled gently on the hand caught in his, watching as the rolling chair spun around to face him. Though Fyodor didn’t actively grip his hand, neither did he retract his hand. (Sigma still remembered how concerned Fyodor had been the day that he’d dared to reach out, when he’d faced Death head on – and the rare jewel of surprise decorating Fyodor’s face when Sigma had been unharmed.) Sigma curls his fingers gently around Fyodor’s hand, expression relaxed and gentle.
“Come on. We’ll get you something to eat, and then a bath.” Sigma encourages, silver eyes watching carefully to see how the Russian would respond to the suggestion. “And then into bed. You’ll do no good wearing yourself out like this. It will all still be here waiting for you when you wake up.”
Fyodor only offered an indistinct, noncommittal sound in response. But he followed as Sigma gradually urged him up from the chair that he’d spent countless hours in while looking over the computers. Sigma smiled in encouragement as he coaxed Fyodor up; half because he was relieved the man wasn’t going to potentially see black spots from getting up too fast, and because he was relieved that there would be no need for further incentive to lure Fyodor out from his little sanctuary within the casino.
Sigma laced their fingers together as he stepped out into the hallway, locking the door behind them to ensure no one might wander in and disturb the area. It was doubtful of course, there were only a few times in the casino’s history in the last year or two where a room this far would be booked, and patrons of the casino didn’t ever wander this far. But it wouldn’t hurt to take additional precautionary measures. Especially when it was something as valuable and potentially dangerous as the work of Fyodor Dostoevsky. He swiped the security card, listening to the door lock and seal behind them before he turned back towards Fyodor.
“Do you want to eat at one of the restaurants? Or I could make you something, if you’d prefer.” Sigma knew quite well what the answer would be. If he could memorize over twenty-thousand clients names, room numbers, medical histories, and behaviors within he walls of his establishment, he could certainly memorize what his dear Fedya’s preferences were. But it wouldn’t stop him from offering it. No one understood the value of free choice as much as Sigma did. He would not rob Fyodor of that option even if he knew what the answer would be.
He could feel the gaze that turned from the familiar halls of the casino to resting upon him, watching with attentive care despite the exhaustion. Sigma wasn’t going to look, but he couldn’t help it. He glanced from the corner of his eyes to see Fyodor’s thoughtful gaze resting on him as if he were picking him apart to analyze him. Once upon a time it’d made him uneasy to be the focus of such an attentive gaze. Now he knew it was one of the few ways Fyodor expressed how he cared; there was a difference between how Fyodor looked at analyzing opponents and chess pieces, and how he looked at those he genuinely cared for. It wasn’t a hunt for weakness and prediction, but a search for understanding. It brought a warm feeling to Sigma’s chest each time he caught that gaze now. He knew Fyodor cared, even if it was said more though actions than it was in words.
Abruptly he was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Fyodor slow to a stop. Puzzlement washed over the casino manager as he stopped, looking towards Fyodor with a questioning expression in a silent request for an explanation. He hadn’t been expecting to feel Fyodor’s cool hand lifting to his cheek, thumb passing over his cheekbone in a delicate touch as though Sigma might fracture and shatter like porcelain doll. He couldn’t help the slight flutter in his chest that answered the call. No matter how close they were, how many kisses had been shared, simple and soft gestures like this could always make him feel incomparably warm and happy.
“What’s wrong, φως μου?” The Greek slipped out with natural ease and softness as Sigma leans into the hand resting upon his cheek.
“You’re exhausted.” It was a statement rather than a question that Fyodor responded with, violet eyes holding silver ones with a gravity like the sun had on the planets.
Sigma blinked once, twice, and then let his eyes close for a moment as he smiled. Even as hungry and tired as Fyodor might be, he was as observational as always. “Work has been busy, no need for concern. I’m fine. I don’t mind making you dinner.”
But evidently it does not please Fyodor by the frown that lingers in the corners of his lips. He’s half-tempted to kiss them away, but he knows it won’t distract Fyodor. If anything, it might make him focus on it more. Patience was a necessity with Fyodor both from a business perspective but also in personal connection. He wouldn’t force him to speak. He merely awaited the final conclusion that would be settled upon.
“…We could…order to the room.”
It hadn’t been the conclusion Sigma expected, eyes widening even as Fyodor was the first between them to turn his gaze away at his own suggestion. Sharp shock however melted into a softer, warm sensation that spread through his chest. It was the small things that struck home and spoke the loudest. Ordering food to the room was such a simple act, but it showed how Fyodor cared by wanting to let him take it easy as well. He smiled, turning to press a gentle kiss to the cool fingertips that had been resting against his cheekbones.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” His hand tightened gently around Fyodor’s hand still in his grasp as he begins to move them back through the hallways.
It wasn’t hard to navigate to his suite from here, even despite how such a path was out of the main areas of the casino. Sigma knew the casino like he knew his own hand, perhaps even better. Naturally he knew who used what paths when it came to staff and frequent guests. He knew these back routes were more preferred to the main areas by Fyodor. Here in the halls less traveled, Fyodor didn’t have to risk his ability slaughtering an unsuspecting person who accidentally brushed against him.
It’d also led to quite the amusing incident among the staff when Fyodor had first started to visit the casino more frequently. They’d been so certain the figure had been a ghost, glimpsed only out of the corner of one’s eye or when rounding a corner. It’d taken Sigma’s intervention to soothe the concern and properly introduce Fyodor to more of his staff members so as not to give an unlucky soul another fright.
“Is there something particular you are in the mood for?” Sigma inquired as they drew closer to his suite, his free hand slipping inside his coat to pull out his phone.
For a brief moment, it almost seemed like Fyodor wasn’t going to answer. His actual response what hardly any more useful. “I trust you to choose well.”
Sigma allowed himself a small huff as he glanced back towards Fyodor’s face where he found a sliver of pure amusement sparkled in violet eyes like light reflected on the surface of an amethyst on display. Naturally Fyodor found it funny. He likely had already predicted this exact scenario unfolding as a response to his statement. Was it exasperating? Yes. But it was also just so typical of the man he’d given his heart to that it was only a fond exasperation rather than a genuine annoyance.
“Very well. No complaining if you don’t get what you like.” It was a threat as empty as an abandoned structure, said for appearance and little more.
Sigma lifted the phone to his ear as he unlocked the suite door with his card, indicating with a dip of his head for Fyodor to enter the room. Although it was luxurious in standards, there was nothing obscenely fancy about it, only what was on par for the casino. Modern and elegant with its accents of gold and marble, but it was also more clearly lived in than any room a guest would have. Books on the coffee table, papers regarding the Decay of Angel matters elsewhere, an easel with a half-finished painting of the vibrant sky and birds near the window, little pieces and fragments of the man Sigma was scattered about like puzzle pieces. But there were traces of the Russian as well, from a chess board to the tea set that had been bought specifically for him. If that wasn’t proof, the ease at which Fyodor made himself comfortable in the suite and relaxed onto the couch spoke louder than any words could.
Once he’d finished placing the order to the particular restaurant on board, Sigma moved to cross the room and settle on the arm of the chair, silver gaze sweetly watching over Fyodor. It was rather hypocritical of him to fret over the other so much when Fyodor had pointed out the fact that he was arguably just as bad on one of his previous minutes. Sleep forsaken in favor of allow Sigma to memorize more information of the patrons that filled his staff. He was rather glad for the fact he hadn’t looked in the mirror when even Fyodor had pointed out that he didn’t look well.
“How has your work been?” Fyodor opened his eyes to peer up at the angel that watched over him. It was rather fitting, how the light encased Sigma like the holy light that emitted from the angels above.
This time it was Sigma who did not answer so quickly. His hand combed through dark locks of hair as dark as the winter nights, enjoying how it fell softly between his fingers before he spoke. “It’s been well. I have a new staff member now, Andre Garnier. A young man who’d been using his father’s tab and racked up quite the debt. But he is extremely gifted in deescalating situations and talking with guests to make it a welcoming experience, so I offered him a position to help ease his debt.” Sigma quiets for a moment of further thought. “More of the Port Mafia members have started to gamble here as well. Not the executives yet, but a few of the more influential members in the lower ranks.”
Fyodor closed his eyes with a small smile. “That boy likely thought you were a lifesaver.” A half-truth, the offer had been genuinely extended, but only because Sigma saw noteworthy skills in him. Otherwise he would have floundered in debt with the rest. “Good.” No more needed to be said; Sigma would keep an eye on the Port Mafia and learn what he could through observation and listening to lips loosened by liquor and adrenaline.
Gentle murmurs of conversation flowed back and forth between them until a sudden knock at the door interrupted their peace. Sigma leaned down to press a kiss to Fyodor’s forehead before he stood up from the arm of the couch and went to the door. As expected, it was their food, fresh and waiting. Sigma gave a tip and thanks to the staff member before he brought it to the small dining table to where Fyodor had already settled down.
Sigma placed down the tray before beginning to sort out the plates to their spots. “Salmon, since you’re more than likely low on iron. As well as some potato vareniki and salad.”
“And?”
A pale shade of pink dusted Sigma’s cheeks as he pointed decided to not look at Fyodor and the waiting smile. “…And a chocolate lava cake?”
A muffled chuckle crept into the air, drawing Sigma’s eyes upwards and to Fyodor’s amused expression. It wasn’t often he laughed, be it a single note or several notes of laughter. Thusly each note became priceless, more valuable than gold or pearls. He stashed away the memory in the vault of his mind as if to ensure nothing could steal it away.
“You have a sweet tooth, милый.” Fyodor remarked, waiting until Sigma had sat down before he even picked up his fork.
It wasn’t a hidden fact, certainly not from someone so close to him, but having it pointed out did little to ease the embarrassment that’d brought color to his cheeks. “Chocolate is good in moderation too.” He pointed at Fyodor and then to the plate. “Now eat.”
His shoulders relaxed as the dinner unfolded, enjoying the conversation and quiet moments that they shared together. To many people they were probably mundane moments. But in a life full of violence and suffering and cruelty, these moments were still rarer than the moments of cruelty had been. Here where he could be content to enjoy Fyodor’s company and the comfortable silence when conversation lulled, enjoying meals and desserts together.
Sigma didn’t react when he saw Fyodor move away from the table as he finished on his half of the dessert. For someone who had teased him about the chocolate lava cake, the other man had certainly devoured it along with everything else. It eased a silent worry on Sigma’s shoulders now that he knew that Fyodor had eaten a proper and full meal.
A squeak of surprise slipped through Sigma’s lips when he felt Fyodor’s hands in his hair, gathering up locks of his dual-colored hair. “Fedya?”
“Mm?”
“What are you doing?”
The fingers in his hair didn’t pause, and Sigma felt something being tucked into the strands of hair. “Pinning up your hair. It’ll get wet in the bath otherwise and you washed it earlier.”
Sigma opted to let that statement be as it was, careful to stay still as he finished his last few bites so Fyodor could finish pinning his hair up. There was no rush now that the angel had successfully deemed it a night to dote on the god in the casino. Although it was odd how he was now ending up being the one doted on in this moment, even if it was likely about practicality in Fyodor’s eyes. Only when he felt Fyodor’s hands and the occasional sensation of pins being pushed into his hair cease did he lift a hand to gently feel at his hair. Nothing ornate of course but it would work just fine. But as he traced over the pins in his hair, he realized that he didn’t recognize these pins. He didn’t forget things. He didn’t have flower hair pins. He turned to glance over his shoulder to look at Fyodor.
“…They seemed like something you’d like. They reminded me of spring.” Fyodor spoke first, violet eyes shifting from the silver flower pins tucked in strands of hair to look towards his angel’s face.
A smile that could have rivaled the sun spread across Sigma’s face, warm and genuine. “I do like them. Thank you.” He stood up, gathering the plates to put them on the tray and set outside the door for someone to collect later. “I’ll get the bath ready.”
With that, he left Fyodor to his own devices while he made his way to the large tub that resided inside the marble bathroom. It would easily fit them both — an intention that Fyodor had made clear he was expecting the moment that he’d begun to pin up Sigma’s hair. Sigma’s eyes scanned over the various bottles of products and bubble bath before he selected the scent he wanted and began to pour some of it into the warm water as the tub filled. Bubbles began to spring up to the surface and he gave it one more glance before calling for Fyodor to come to the bath.
It took significantly less time for Fyodor to strip down than it took for Sigma to remove his layers and accessories. He felt the eyes watching over him as if he were watching a show before him. But it was different. Fyodor’s gaze didn’t feel like the greedy gaze of some patrons or the disdain of his former captors, or the obsessive watch of people eager for the manager’s attention. Fyodor’s gaze saw him for all that he was, both physically and as a soul.
Sigma stepped into the bath before helping Fyodor in, eyes sharpened to watch for any indication of if the water was too warm or cool for his preference. “Is the water alright?”
“You ask that every time.” Fyodor lifts the right corner of his lips in a slight smile before offering a gentle reassurance to soothe the overwatching angel. “It’s just right, as always.” He sinks down into the water, waiting until Sigma had turned off the water and settled before he leaned back against his chest.
Sigma hid a sheepish smile at the comment. “I just want to make sure.”
He had thought that would be the end of that conversation, but it seemed that this time, it was not a line to be so easily discarded.
Fyodor slowly closed his eyes, his head leaning back against Sigma. “You need to stop doubting yourself so much, мой дорогой менеджер. Have more faith. This casino thrives all because of you.”
Words were spoken with such effortless ease, but they struck Sigma to the core like an arrow hitting its mark. His gaze fell and he bent his head slightly to press a soft kiss to the bare skin of Fyodor’s shoulder as an unspoken answer. He felt one of Fyodor’s hands lift to rest against his head in a protective gesture.
“You are one of my angels, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I would choose just anyone?” The water rippled as he turned around to face Sigma, his hand sliding down from his hair to Sigma’s chin to urge him to look upwards and meet his gaze. “I would not. You are one of Heaven’s treasured angels. I have full confidence in you. You prove it time and time again.”
Sigma started to speak, but it wasn’t a difficult move to predict and counter, least of all for a genius like Fyodor. His words were silenced before they could even be spoken by holy lips that pressed against his. They were cool in contrast to the warmth of the bath, pressed against his lips firm enough to feel but soft enough that it felt more like a ghost’s touch. It drew up a yearning in his chest that was just as easily content and soothed under the gesture. His lashes fluttered closed as he sank into the sensation till they parted.
“Better?” Fyodor’s voice floated softly in the silence that settled as they gazed at one another.
“Mm.”
Seemingly content, Fyodor settled back against Sigma’s chest. Sigma relaxed against the back of the tub, one hand gently picking up Fyodor’s to begin massaging the tense muscles. His hands were so soft and gentle seeming, seraphic, and yet they were capable of such extraordinary feats of violence. They were as kind as they were cruel. Sigma adored them, just as he did every other part of Fyodor. No matter how the world looked at Fyodor, Sigma would be there as reliably as the angels on high who served God were or as the stars that accompanied the moon. It was an oath he swore to himself again and again.
Time slipped away like droplets of water in a river. For a moment, there was nothing that what demanded of them. Grand plans for the fate of the world and the more immediate matters of demands of the casino felt like they were planets away. They would be addressed in time, but not right now. Right now was for the two of them in soft conversations and comfortable silences.
Sigma turned his head to start to speak to Fyodor but cut himself off when he saw the sleepy expression and half-lidded eyes of the Russian. It wasn’t always easy to coax him into a mindset where he could rest easily or fall asleep. Sigma knew his mind was always working like the sun, burning with bright ideas and never taking a break from schemes and his own reflections on the world he was surrounded by. Sigma could understand it in concept, but he could only relate to it in the way his drive for work or anxiety sometimes refused to let his brain rest. It seemed like the warm bath was working wonders like Sigma had hoped it would.
“Ready for bed?” Sigma asks instead, a hand lifting to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Fyodor’s ear.
Sigma listened for a response, but the only acknowledgement he got was a single-noted hum and the face that turned inwards to the crook of his neck. It was enough of a response for Sigma. He considered it perfect timing as well; now that the bubbles had faded, the water was beginning to cool down. It was a good time to get out.
“You have to let me up, Fedya.” Sigma murmurs, a chime of amusement in his voice. Thankfully Fyodor was still somewhere coherent, and Sigma eased himself up out of the bath to grab one of the two waiting towels to dry himself off. It was always a delicate balance, getting Fyodor to move on his own in this sleepy state without waking him up too much. He leaned down to pull the plug out of the tub before turning to Fyodor. “Come on, up you go. There you go, I’ve got you.”
Sigma gently coaxed Fyodor up so he could dry him off and wrap him up in the other towel before carefully picking him up while he was bundled up in the towel. It took effort not to laugh at the way Fyodor’s head fell against his shoulder like a limp toy. He must have been even more exhausted than either one of them had suspected. It was a good thing Sigma had intervened. It was better that he fell asleep in comfort than passed out over the keyboard in the conference room as he undoubtedly would have otherwise. (Not that he had much room to talk.)
He carried Fyodor carefully over to the bed, setting him on the edge so that he could pull back the blankets and comforter before he gently pushed his shoulder. Fyodor laid down with no complaint, his eyelids fluttering with the effort to keep an eye on Sigma. Most likely it was to ensure that Sigma himself would lay down as well. Sigma smiled before tossing the towels aside and rounding the bed to crawl in on the other side. He would deal with that in the morning. The most important place right now was to be right here with Fyodor.
His arms snaked around Fyodor’s form holding him close. “καληνύχτα, αγαπημένη“ Sigma whispered gently even as he heard Fyodor’s breathing slow as he fell asleep. Soon he found himself dozing off as well, angel and god entwined in the warm comfort of sleep.