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Sampo did not like to be trapped in one place, or to be tied down by anyone or anything. Some called him a free spirit. Others called him a runaway, vagabond, a criminal.
He would not call himself any of these things. To himself, Sampo was just Sampo. A businessman, an actor, who, as of now, was currently playing the role of Gepard’s date to a party.
Sampo didn’t really like fancy clothes. They were restrictive. He didn’t own any, so he had to borrow Gepard’s. He had insisted that nobody would notice, but parts of the suit he had been lent were too tight, so he’d had to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt. Gepard hadn’t complained out loud, but Sampo could tell he wasn’t a fan of it.
Everything about this event was restrictive, Sampo noted. Stuffy rooms, filled with stuffy rich people eating food Sampo had only dreamed of as a child.
He had filled up his plate with food not long ago, and spent the entire dinner quietly eating in the corner. He was not usually one to pass up on being the center of attention. He knew he certainly would be. A man who was very much a commoner, walking among the wealthiest names in Belobog? Why, he would be the talk of the party!
Not tonight, however. Tonight, Sampo would give anything to disappear, even his entire bank account. He would rather be rotting in a cell than here at this party, and for one reason only: Gepard’s family.
Sampo had weaseled away from his date the second he could. Really he would have left, but Gepard had asked him here, and who was Sampo to say no to those baby blue eyes? That was the problem with Gepard— it was getting increasingly difficult to tell him “no,” and the thought of that was terrifying.
At least Sampo still had his wits about him. He knew better than to interact with the Landaus besides Serval and Gepard. And maybe Lynx, though she wasn’t even there. Out on some expedition somewhere, and unable to make it to the party.
Lucky.
Yes, there was no amount of begging Gepard could do to make Sampo meet his family, specifically his parents. That was a hard line Sampo had no intention of crossing, thank you very much. He was content to just stand alone, snacking on rare fish, and trying to pretend he didn’t feel like a trapped animal.
He sighed and took a sip from his wine glass. It was getting increasingly hard to pace himself as he watched Gepard, who was talking to Serval. In his periphery, Sampo could see two other heads of blonde hair, much older than the siblings.
Sampo watched them like a hawk. He didn’t think the Landau parents had seen him with Gepard, but he could never be too careful. He made a note to apologize to his date for ditching him later. He hoped he could make it up to Gepard.
Slowly, the Landau mother turned her head. She seemed to be perusing the guests as a whole, but Sampo immediately felt his fight or flight response kick in. Quietly, he tried to make himself look smaller.
It seemed to work on Lady Landau. It did not, however, work on Gepard, who locked eyes with Sampo. The blue-haired man winced, waving nervously and feeling like a piece of shit as Gepard’s face lit up at the sight of him.
Oh no, Sampo thought. Gepard was already beginning to make his way over, waving goodbye to Serval before beelining for Sampo. About halfway across the room, however, he was intercepted by his parents.
For a moment, Sampo thought he was in the clear. A part of him was beginning to panic for poor Gepard, forced to deal with his parents. The rest of him was jumping for joy, hoping that all of the Landaus would be distracted enough to allow Sampo to escape.
Of course, Sampo could never be that lucky.
All three Landaus turned to look at Sampo, the parents meeting his gaze with a withering stare. Frantically, Sampo straightened up, trying to put on a mask of carelessness and sophistication. He copied the expression the rest of the guests seemed to bear— haughty, confident, and judgmental— and smiled.
The group of blondes made their way over to him slowly. Gepard was in the lead, his usual stern expression fixed in place. Sampo knew how anxious his parents made him, however, and he prayed to Qlipoth for Gepard’s and his own sanity.
Gepard stopped next to Sampo, turning quickly to face his parents. His hand rested on Sampo’s shoulder, his muscles completely stiff. Sampo resisted the urge to give Gepard’s hand a reassuring pat.
Gepard cleared his throat. “Mother, father,” he began. His voice was so much more tense than it was when he and Sampo were alone. The thought of that made the con man’s heart flutter. He tried to shut down those feelings as quickly as possible.
He was being introduced, he realized, perking up to listen. “This is Sampo,” Gepard was saying, his hand twitching as he visibly resisted the urge to move anxiously. “Sampo Koski. He’s uh…”
“You must be Gepard’s parents!” Sampo’s mouth moved before he could stop it. He stood up, reaching out to shake the Landaus’ hands. They took his hands reluctantly, seeming disgusted by Sampo’s touch. Ouch.
Whatever. This was fine. Sampo had dealt with tough clients before, and that was exactly what the Landaus were. Clients who were not looking to buy, but to sell. And the product they were selling was… Gepard.
Sampo could work with that. He pulled away, flashing his most winning smile. Just lay on the charm, Koski. You can do this.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, feeling Gepard tense beside him. “All good things, I swear.” He forced a laugh, trying not to let his real thoughts show. He could do this. He could make it.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Sampo had, indeed, heard much about Gepard’s parents. However, he wouldn’t exactly call what he had heard about them “good.” It had taken Gepard thirty-seven years to realize that it was not, in fact, normal to be terrified of his parents visiting.
It had taken a considerable amount of effort to not bring knives to the party.
Gepard’s parents were looking at Sampo like he was a cockroach, or a dead bird on the sidewalk. Not that either had ever seen a bird before. That was one of the things it had taken Sampo a while to adjust to— the lack of birds in Belobog.
It was Gepard’s father who spoke first. “We have heard of you, as well,” he said. His voice was so frigid, Sampo swore he could feel frost forming on his skin.
“Heh… is that a positive?” Sampo knew Gepard wouldn’t badmouth him. At least, not anymore. He would admit that they had come a long way since their days of cat-and-mouse, although they still found ways to manage that occasionally.
Nowadays, they spent most of their time chatting, or eating dinner, or just sitting quietly in each other’s presence. It was nice, Sampo thought. Even though the feeling of safety Gepard gave him was terrifying.
Mr. Landau glared at Sampo. “For the most part, yes,” he said venomously. Sampo took that to mean Gepard gave him nothing but glowing praise, and his father was just a hardass. Given the man’s track record, this was highly plausible.
Gepard’s mother was silent. Her eyes were much more weary than her husband’s, and they rarely left her son. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Sampo, praise the Aeons. Still, it was more than a little strange, and it only served to put Sampo more on edge.
His forced smile widened. “Great, great,” he laughed. “Amazing place you’ve got here, by the way. Very impressive!” The elder Landaus did not live in their family home anymore, leaving it to Gepard for a smaller place. “Smaller” in the eyes of the wealthy, however, was very different from “smaller” in the eyes of the poor.
This “small” mansion could still buy all of the underworld and half of the overworld. Sampo envied how the Landaus could call such a massive estate a downgrade from their original home. He had voiced this to Gepard before, but he knew that his date’s parents would not appreciate that sort of commentary.
Gepard’s father wasn’t responding. That was decidedly not according to plan, and Sampo could feel himself beginning to freak out. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was in control. He had an escape route if needed, and it was up to him to be a rock for Gepard.
Never mind the fact that he didn’t feel stable enough to support the both of them.
“Do I have something on my shirt?” Sampo asked playfully, following Mr. Landau’s gaze. The older man was practically trying to vaporize Sampo with only his eyes, a feat which actually seemed possible with the sheer amount of hatred he was exuding.
Mr. Landau looked up, and suddenly Sampo realized what exactly he was looking at. Rose-shaped cufflinks, a Landau-blue tie that was currently sitting around Sampo’s shoulders, untied. Gepard’s suit. Sampo was wearing Gepard’s clothes.
Shit. Shit. Sampo tried not to panic, but he was already failing from the moment he realized what was wrong. He knew for a fact that Gepard had never told his parents about their little affair, and there was a very good reason for that.
This night had been doomed from the start.
Sampo should have known this was a bad idea. He should have found a way to get enough money for a suit of his own, but no, he was supposed to be going straight now, and he didn’t have a real job. He couldn’t have gotten the money in time even if he tried, and he knew it. At least, not without Gepard finding out he was lying about going straight.
“I’m disappointed,” Gepard’s father said, muttering under his breath just loud enough for Sampo to hear. “Son, what have I told you about running around with people like… this?”
Sampo knew it wasn’t just him that was being insulted. Gepard had told him many times about the children he used to play with in the underworld, and how his father had reacted. It wasn’t necessarily personal, but by the Aeons it felt like it, and Sampo had to hold himself back from trying to punch the man before him.
Gepard took a step forward, his fingers brushing against Sampo’s. He made no move to hold the ex-con man’s hand, but his presence was appreciated.
“Father, not here,” he pleaded, his voice quiet. Not here, like stopping his father completely was impossible. It likely was, but Sampo was nothing if not good at talking himself out of situations, and he would be remiss not to try.
He tilted his head, deciding to play dumb. “What do you mean, Sir?” He tried not to show how irritated and, frankly, terrified he was. Gepard’s father was an intimidating man, to be sure, even though he was shorter and visibly weaker than Sampo.
Mr. Landau ignored Sampo, much to his chagrin. “Gepard,” he hissed, “we’ve talked about this. Street rats like him do not belong in our family.”
Ouch. “That’s kinda harsh,” Sampo said, playing up his emotional hurt. He wondered if the Aeons could see him, and if they liked his performance. He resolved to put on a hell of a show for them.
Mr. Landau shot Sampo a withering glare, then continued speaking to Gepard. “I have put up with your… preferences… for years,” he snapped. Gepard flinched at the word, and Sampo felt him pull away slightly.
“I have done my best to support you.” Mr. Landau was red in the face, much like a tomato. He was clenching his fists so hard, his arms were shaking. “I have accepted that you won’t give us an heir. The least you could do is be with someone who deserves to join our family.”
“Hey!” Sampo didn’t mean to speak, but it was too late. All eyes were on him now, even from some of the other guests. He had shouted, and now he was completely cornered. A deer trapped by a lion.
“Hey,” he repeated, this time quieter and with forced casualness. “There’s no need to get angry. Why don’t we all calm down, and—“
“Do not speak to me without permission.” Gepard’s father was a lot like his son, in a way. Sampo recognized the quiet anger that came when Gepard was tired from work, or when his soldiers refused to cooperate with him. They had the same expression, Sampo noted. Red-faced and seething, but far from losing control.
Gepard’s mother finally moved. She squeezed her husband’s bicep, closing her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to see what was happening. “Lionel,” she whispered, “that’s enough.”
Lionel Landau. Alliteration, just like his youngest daughter. If he was less angry, perhaps Sampo would’ve made a joke about it.
The older man took a deep breath, then dabbed the sweat from his forehead. “Right,” he sighed, and his wife let out a shaky breath. She pulled away, rubbing her wrist as if she had been the one being held back.
Mr. Landau shot Sampo one last glare, then redirected his gaze toward Gepard. “We will discuss this later,” he growled. He said discuss like it was a curse word. “Without your little boy toy.” Mrs. Landau winced, and Gepard shook beside Sampo.
Sampo had no idea what he was going to do next. Half of the time, in situations like this, he was only a spectator in his own body, watching himself attempt to charm his way through. Although he had never been in this exact situation before— he had never held down a relationship long enough to even meet his partner’s parents— he knew full well what happened to him when stressed.
Today, however, he was experiencing a rare combination of emotions for him. Stress, discomfort, and anger. He rarely got angry, mostly out of practice in keeping his emotions in check. He couldn’t afford to let anger control him.
Yet, here he was, grabbing his half-empty wine glass and taking a step forward. Gepard made no move to stop him, either not seeing what his intentions were, or wanting to let him go.
Sampo suspected it was the former, as he let out a strangled gasp when Sampo tripped over his feet, splashing the contents of his wine glass all over Mr. Landau’s crisp white shirt.
Time stood still. The entire room hushed, all eyes on the Landaus and Sampo. The blue-haired man came back to himself, plastering a look of horror onto his face. Lights, camera, action!
“Oh my gosh,” he gasped. “I am so sorry! I swear, I have two left feet!” He moved to grab a napkin, offering it to Mr. Landau with a sheepish grin. He stared at the older man, wishing looks could kill.
Lionel Landau was in shock, eyes wide and filled with fresh rage. Still, he took the napkin, frantically dabbing at his shirt, even though he clearly knew it would do nothing to help.
Mrs. Landau grabbed her husband’s arm again, tugging him gently. “We should go,” she insisted, visibly relieved to have an excuse to do so. She turned to Gepard. “Will you be alright,” she asked, her voice filled with sincerity Sampo rarely ever heard from anyone but Gepard.
The younger blond nodded sharply. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sampo cut him off. “We’ll be fine,” he said, grabbing Gepard’s hand. “We should go, too. Work in the morning. You know how it is.”
Mrs. Landau nodded, her bright blue eyes filled with an emotion Sampo could only guess was gratitude. “Have a nice night, she said, ignoring her husband’s muttered curses as he pulled away and walked off. “And… I’m so sorry. For Lionel.”
Gepard made no effort to speak this time, so Sampo took over again. “It’s no problem,” he lied through his rehearsed grin. “You take care.”
As they left the party, Gepard was silent. Sampo did not look back at him, though he could practically feel his date’s eyes on the back of his head. He was probably going to get scolded to Hell and back when they got home, but that was a risk Sampo had been willing to take.
It seemed that Gepard didn’t want to wait until they got home, however. Halfway there, in the middle of the street, he stopped, his fists balled at his sides.
“Why did you do that,” Gepard muttered, somewhere between furious and deeply depressed. Tears welled in his eyes, and he was shaking. “You know how my father is. Why would you…”
Sampo sighed, tugging at his collar. “I couldn’t just stand there and let him bully you,” he admitted. Here, away from prying eyes, he felt safe in admitting his intentions. “I’m sorry, Gepard, I just… can’t stand him.”
It was rare for Sampo to hate someone, mostly because he wouldn’t allow himself to. Gepard knew that, backing down with a short, teary laugh. “You’re impossible,” he said, though a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Never do that again.”
Sampo chuckled, his own smile returning for real this time. “No promises,” he said, bumping Gepard’s shoulder. He watched his partner sway with the impact, not even trying to remain steady.
They locked hands the rest of the way home. Gepard relaxed the further from the party they got, and Sampo felt himself relax with him. Not completely— he didn’t think it was possible for him to do that— but he could at least rest easy for now knowing he had helped.
He hated being forced to face danger head on, but for Gepard, he would do it as many times as he needed to. Gepard tied Sampo down, and for once, he did not mind.