Archive of Our Own

Sampo Koski spit out the bit of blood that was swirling around in his mouth before sinking to the pavement. It wasn’t the first time a deal had gone wrong, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Didn’t mean he was pleased.

 This most recent prospect was… in a riskier place for little ‘ole Sampo, what with it being broad daylight in upper Belobog, so obviously, he charged extra, but… well, let’s just say, he also took extra steps. For his own protection. Just because he’d received a pardon after the Trailblazer’s little visit didn’t mean he’d be pardoned for the crimes he was currently committing.

 And, well, the thugs he was meeting didn’t take kindly to a taller, strawberry-blonde woman showing up when they were expecting one Mr. Koski. He, therefore, didn’t get to explain the situation before he was socked in the face by a fleeing criminal. To think, for once, it wasn’t even his fault.

 Sampo perked up slightly at the sound of quick footsteps rounding the other corner. He shot up quietly, pressing himself up against the wall, ready to give those crooks a piece of his mind–

 Captain Gepard Landau rounded the corner, eyes locking onto him in an instant. Sampo sighed.

 “They went that way, handsome,” he gestured, pointing over to the alley they’d escaped down. Gepard rounded the corner with a thankful nod, not even registering the compliment. That was that. Sampo rolled his jaw tenderly, already aware of the bruise forming. 

 More footsteps.

 Gepard came back around the corner, eyes seeming almost as dejected as Sampo felt. He couldn’t even find it in himself to make a grand reveal and disappear. What had the world come to?!

 As the captain leaned against the wall next to him, Sampo couldn’t help the subtle tensing as his brain kicked into fight or flight. Something about having your future hanging in the balance between you and the guy about four feet from you was just intimidating.

And of course, with adrenaline– the drug of fools– running through his veins, he bravely broke the silence with unmatched elegance and grace.

“So, uh… no luck?”

 “Not a trace.” Gepard huffed, his face cold as the Eternal Freeze. “They must be long gone by now.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Friends of yours?” 

Sampo gasped dramatically at the entirely baseless accusation.

 “Why, Ge— Captain, you wound me.” Close call. “You think a girl like me would hang around those types? No, I've been mugged!” At least Gepard had the good sense to look embarrassed as he flushed a very subtle vermillion. Sampo giggled to himself at the additional crease that formed between the captain’s eyebrows.

 “Apologies, ma’am. As I was unable to catch the perpetrators, then, I must ask if you had anything particularly important on your person so that we may better search for it.” Sampo shrugged. What he didn’t say is that all that was really stolen from him was the payout. He had no use for the goods without buyers.

 “No, not particularly… however, I am intrigued.” The Captain raised his head slightly, indicating for him to go on.

 “Are you— and I can’t believe I’m asking this— are you okay, Captain?” There was a pause. And then Gepard let out what could only be described as the mother-load of all sighs.

 “If I’m being honest… I’ve had a bit of a rough day.”

 His shoulders slumped as he spoke, weariness lining his features. It wasn’t a look one often saw on the great Captain Gepard— so to say Sampo was intrigued was an understatement.

 “Oh?”

 “Well, obviously, I was too late to bust these criminals– we had a report of another illegal artifact dealing about those folks. I guess they just took your stuff when their dealer bailed on them. But besides that…” Sampo leaned in slightly, tension melting from his shoulders. Gepard stopped suddenly, pulling back.

 “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be unloading this on you. You’ve been recently victimized and here I am accusing you of being a criminal and then dumping the stress of my personal life on you.” Gepard moved to stand, and Sampo found himself reaching out, resting his hand on Gepard’s forearm.. 

 “Hey, don’t sweat it, handsome,” Sampo laughed, “We all need to decompress sometimes, and from what I’ve heard, you need it more than most. I don’t mind. Besides, I don't have any plans for the evening.” Gepard sighed, but fell back against the wall. Sampo withdrew his hand, which was… slightly sweaty. Great.

 What was he doing? Sampo Koski was the one and only master businessman, he didn’t do free therapy, and certainly not with the… enemy. Gepard continued, almost in the background of Sampo’s own thoughts.

 “My family’s hosting some gala tonight for all the socialites of Belobog to… well… socialize. I’m sure there’s some more important reason, but they’re asking that my sister and I attend, and well… I might’ve told them I had a plus one.” Gepard’s face scrunched up, and through his amusement, Sampo couldn’t help but find it a little endearing.

 “Geppie? —Can I call you that… “Geppie”?” Sampo didn’t wait for a response before continuing.

 “Surely you have one? The Indomitable Shield of Belobog has women lining up around the corner for a chance at his heart. No one’s caught your eye?”

 “What? “The Indomitable Shield of…”” Gepard trailed off, forehead scrunched in thought, adorable as always.

 “Oh, Captain, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” The disbelief dripping from Sampo’s tone was entirely false— Gepard entirely missing his hordes of “secret” admirers was definitely on his bingo card for the year. A cute little flush bloomed across the Captain’s face.

 “I suppose I haven’t. I don’t typically have time for this sort of thing.” Gepard shifted uncomfortably, as if recategorizing a thousand different interactions. In fact, he seemed almost to reevaluate Sampo now. The thought made him snort.

 “Too busy chasing criminals across the city?”

 “Something like that.” With nowhere for the conversation to go, the two fell into a comfortable silence for a while, a strangely pleasant feeling settling in between them. It took Sampo forcibly reminding himself that being within fifteen feet of this man was dangerous to his freedom— whether in disguise or not— before he peeled himself from the wall and began to leave.

 “Well, Captain G, it was lovely meeting you, but I really must be on my way. Farewell.” He began to turn, heading back towards the way he came—

 “Wait!” Sampo swiveled partially, looking back over his shoulder. Gepard’s face was frozen in some interesting combination of desperation and mild terror.

 “Sorry, um, before you go, would you happen to know any of these… fans? Perhaps someone who would be willing to accompany me to the gala tonight. There’s money in it, as well, if that’s any incentive.” Sampo’s eyebrows raised.

 “Why, Captain, how bold of you.” Sampo sauntered back over to Gepard, who had, of course, flushed bright crimson.

 “Oh my Aeons, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— wow. This is so wildly inappropriate.” Sampo opened his mouth to agree, but then— well, it struck him just how dejected Gepard sounded, and, well, he was definitely a little short on cash now…

 “I’ll go.”

 “It’s alright, I’ll leave— wait.. what?” Sampo laughed, and the look of pure confusion on Gepard’s face was glorious.

 “Are you leaving or are you coming?” His confusion was almost enough to make Sampo just want to leave him in the dark.

 “I said I’d go with you, idiot. I’m not actually that busy. And yes I will take the credits.” This was almost certainly a terrible idea, but, well, bad ideas were Sampo Koski’s middle name. Sampo “Bad Ideas” Koski.

 “You are my savior. Thank you–truly.” And yeah, the look of relief on Gepard’s face made the whole thing a little bit worth it already. At least it would be entertaining.

 “Don’t sweat it…” Sampo paused. 

 “I was going to say “Captain” but I suppose we should actually be on a first name basis if I’m going to be Mrs. Landau for the night.” Aeons, there was something so addictive about the way Gepard blushed so easily.

 “I, uhm, I suppose we should. Actually,” Gepard stopped, like it just now occurred to him, “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

 “Kassi. Kassi Mokpo.” And yes, it was an anagram of Sampo Koski. He just couldn’t resist giving Gepard a good tease. Who knows? Maybe he’d figure it out and Sampo would get the honor of another fabulous crime to his name.

 “Well met, Ms. Mokpo.”

 “Kassi,” Sampo corrected.

 “Kassi,” Gepard amended. “The gala is in just about an hour— do you want to meet there? I can give you that address.”

 “Honestly, Gepard, not going to offer to pick me up?” His face fell a little, and Sampo gleefully waited until Geppie seemed on the verge of apologizing to continue.

 “Teasing.” The Captain seemingly went through several strong emotions in a fraction of a second, leaving Sampo cackling. Now Gepard was most definitely scowling.

 “But,” Sampo continued, not yet done voicing his concerns, “there is a problem— I’m not sure I have anything to wear to something so… high-class. I don’t think showing up in this would be particularly well-received.” He gestured downwards, to his devilishly attractive (but admittedly not very classy) outfit. He certainly wasn’t showing any manner of skin close to Gepard— which was, to say, none at all. Honestly, the Captain could come to work in a full face mask and no one would question it.

 “Ah, fair.” Gepard said. “Sorry to have assumed. You look to be about my sister’s height. If you’d like, we can stop by her place and grab you something.” Sampo smiled.

 “That would be lovely.”

 “Then I’ll show you the way.” Gepard pushed off the wall and began to walk, slowing as Sampo fell into pace beside him. 

 Their fingers brushed ever-so-slightly as they went. Gepard pulled away as if the very touch burned, and yet Sampo oddly found himself wishing their hands had intertwined instead.

…………………

They walked mostly in silence, the tension not quite gone between them. They arrived, not too long after, at the door of Neverwinter Workshop, the, well, workshop (and apparently home) of Serval Landau. This, Sampo worried, was the real test.

 What if he didn’t act right and she sniffed him out like some sort of gender bloodhound? Serval, especially, had a reputation for being discerning— second to only, perhaps, Natasha. Add in the older sister magic and he was basically doomed. Sampo gulped. 

 Well, it was now or never, and Gepard seemed very intent on the now.

They stepped up to the door, Gepard raising his hand to knock in some sort of stilted rhythm. Sibling code, perhaps? There was a short pause. Then a muffled,

 “Come in, Geppie!” Oh. They were going to get along wonderfully. Gepard, meanwhile, grimaced as he opened the door.

 “Serval,” he called, “I’ve brought a friend.” She snorted, still from somewhere out of view.

 “It’s alright, you can just say Bronya.” It took a moment before Serval’s head popped up from behind the counter, a smear of grease across her cheek.

 “Oh. Not Bronya.”

 “Not Bronya,” Sampo echoed, giving a little wave that was definitely not nerve-wracked. Serval cocked her head, setting the tool in her hand on the counter.

 “Who are you, mystery girl, and why in Qlipoth’s name did you decide to hang out with Geppie?”

 “Serval,” Gepard sighed, exasperation rolling off of him in waves.

 “Kassi. Pleased to meet you.” 

 “Well, Kassi, you’ve got a little, uh…” she trailed off, gesturing to the lower left of her face, and Sampo mirrored her— coming directly into contact with his bruised jaw. Right.

 “Yeah, let’s get you some ice for that, huh?” Serval disappeared for a moment below the counter once more before reappearing with a small bag of ice, which Sampo took with a nod of thanks. He held it to his jawline with a sigh of relief, feeling the cold seep in. 

 Gepard was standing stock-still, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself when he wasn’t speaking. Serval narrowed in on him with malicious intent, hopping the counter only to lean against it on the other side. It was deceptively casual— she had blood in her eyes.

 “So, how long have you been together?” Ha! She thought she could get him with that? Sampo was about to respond with something reasonable, like 9 months or a year— until Gepard cut him off.

 “We aren’t. Well, mother and father need to think we are, but I don’t see why I should lie to you.” Serval’s eyes widened. Curse Gepard and his righteous honesty.

 “Oh, the plot thickens! I was curious who you had in mind when I heard you told them you had a plus one. I guess I figured you’d bring Bronya.”

 “No, actually, I asked Lady Bronya, and she’s going with Seele, from WIldfire? She lives in the underworld.” Seele was going to be there? Uh oh. There were only a handful of people who saw him frequently enough to see through his magnificent disguise, and she was likely one of them.

 “Oh. Well, how long have you known each other, then? It’s not often Geppie here makes a friend that I don’t know about.” The room fell silent. Gepard shifted his feet.

 “Gepard?” Serval inquired, one eyebrow raised. Ah, the judgment of an older sibling.

 “About an hour.”

 “An hour?! Oh my Qlipoth, you poor thing, how did he drag you into this?” Sampo grinned.

 “He didn’t catch the muggers that socked me and stole my shit, accused me of being in cahoots with them, and then insulted my character. It was love at first sight.” Serval whistled, a new appreciation in her eyes. Gepard flushed violently and looked away, throwing in some coughs for good measure.

 “But I’m free tonight, and I’ve never been to a party quite like this.”

 “I suppose you’re here for a dress then?” Sampo nodded, and Serval’s eyes lit up.

 “Oh good— they’re just gathering dust up there, since I don’t get invited to any of these parties anymore. Just disowned eldest things.” Gepard frowned.

 “That’s not true— you always have a place in the Landau name.” Serval smirked, but there was something deeper in her eyes, a twinge of emotion that went unnoticed.

 “Yeah, maybe if I get a “proper job” and “dress properly” and find a “proper husband.” But anyway—I have something perfect for you. Here, come upstairs, it’ll be easier that way.” Sampo started towards her and Gepard started to follow, but Serval put her hand out, stopping him in his tracks.

 “Wait a minute down here, little bro. This is girl time, okay? And besides,” she quieted, leaning in, “I gotta put her through the ringer, eh?” Sampo shivered. Terrifying. Serval leaned back.

 “All right then, Kassi, up we go!” Serval rounded the corner, leading the way to, and subsequently up, the flight of stairs. Sampo followed— albeit quite hesitantly.

 Gepard’s older sister led the way through a modest but comfortable apartment. On one side of what appeared to be the living room, there was a floor-to-ceiling window presenting a spectacular view of the administrative district. The other three walls were covered entirely with swirling murals and the occasional sticky note of potential song lyrics, chemical formulas, or plain old reminders for life’s menial tasks. Every available surface was covered in mechanical bits or scraps of sheet music, some of which had made their ways onto the floor, which lead to Sampo carefully stepping over more than one giant spring as he followed Serval. All in all, not much that was worth stealing, unless she was hiding some ultra-rare component. But Sampo didn’t really have time to search.

 Serval entered a room with a bright purple door, leaving it open for Sampo to follow. This must be Serval’s room, then, he thought to himself, admiring the chaos that seemed so similar to the rest of her place. It was all in stark contrast to Gepard’s apartment, he noted, which, in the handful of times he’d broken in, had always been medically clean. Honestly, Sampo wasn’t sure if that was because he was a neat freak or because he was hardly ever home.

 While he was pondering, Serval had begun sorting through her closet, if the rustling of cloth against metal hangers was any indication. Just how rich are these people , he wondered, when even the disgraced eldest sister has a walk-in closet?

 She emerged with a sparkly, tight-cut and sequined dress in a shade of fuchsia that Serval was clearly very fond of, given that it was all over her apartment. The dress presented a sweetheart neckline with deep v down the front and a slit up the side, contrary to the two in “Kassi’s” regular skirt. All in all, it seemed perfectly lovely… and not very Serval at all. He was beginning to see why she didn’t seem to mind her exclusion all that much.

 “So? What do you think?”

 “It’s lovely, Serval, really.” Serval nodded happily.

 “Well, don’t just stand there, try it on! Also, I have some concealer and color corrector in there if you want to try and cover that nasty bruise you have. ” She shooed him into the bathroom, exchanging the bag of ice in his hand for the dress, and Sampo laughed hastily. Until the door was shut. Then, he panicked.

 With his fake chest and hips, it would certainly take him longer to get changed— if he could even manage to hide them with the cuts in this dress! But the clock was ticking, and the bathroom didn’t feature a window to make a quick escape— so, quickly, he shed his outer layers, holding his prosthetics against him— you can never be too careful— and shimmied fast into the dress.

 “So,” came Serval’s voice, predatory nature intact, yet muffled through the door, “Where are you from?” Sampo, who was busy trying to frantically shove his stuffed bra into the dress, didn’t exactly have time to think of a good lie.

 “The underworld,” he blurted. Shit.

 “I kind of figured.” What?

 “What?”

 “Well, not to be rude or anything, but these types of parties are pretty commonplace in upper Belobog. Everybody’s got an old cocktail dress or two shoved in the back of their closet. Not you, though.”

 “Fair,” Sampo managed through gritted teeth, unzipping the zipper again after it got caught on the extra fabric for the tenth time. There was a brief period of silence.

 “So…” Serval continued, voice falling into something more… sweet, “since you aren’t with Gepard… are you free this weekend? We could get a nice dinner, maybe check out a movie? My treat, of course.”

 “Oh. Uh…” Sampo barely repressed the urge to scream angrily at the thigh padding that wouldn’t sit right, leaving his figure lopsided.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you were into women.” Normally, this would be the point where he let her down gently— but, well, to say he was too distracted to reject her would be an understatement. 

 “Well, it’s alright. No hard feelings, hm?” To her credit, Serval didn’t sound even the tiniest bit dejected— just a little anxious.

 “No, yeah, of course not.” Sampo looked in the mirror, adjusting his wig a little bit. There.

 “Hey, you okay in there? You’re taking a bit of a long… time…”

 Sampo stepped out of the bathroom in all of his sparkly glory. Serval whistled appreciatively.

“Well, aren’t you a sight.” Sampo did a little twirl. He felt a bit like a disco ball.

 “If you ever decide to give Geppie a chance, he’d be one lucky guy.” Sampo cocked his head curiously.

 “Oh? You think he’s interested in me?” Serval snorted. Sampo was, personally, not a fan of the particular feeling that reaction gave him. She patted the bed beside her, and Sampo obliged.

 “C’mon, Kassi. Not only is he a piece of metal to your magnet of a personality, he, uh, can’t stop staring at your chest. Which, um…” She trailed off. A chill ran down his spine. Sampo looked down to find, horrifyingly, that some of his padding had fallen out. He snatched it back, realizing halfway that he couldn’t try to shove it back down the dress for fear of exposing this entire charade— so he settled for shoving it under his leg instead. Great.

 He must’ve gone bright pink, redder than his generous application of blush, because Serval had a look of thick pity in her eyes. Sampo’s face burned hotter.

 “Hey, don’t sweat it, we all have our insecurities. I won’t tell. If you ever want someone to talk to, come find me, huh? For now, how about you take a second and put yourself back together.” Sampo nodded gratefully, standing and making his way to the bathroom to compose himself.

 Once the door was shut, he slumped against the wall. Thank Qlipoth she’d only thought “Kassi” was insecure. Then again, he supposed it would be odder if Serval automatically assumed he was a man.

 “Take however long you need, okay?” came Serval’s muffled voice once more, “I’m going to head back downstairs. Qlipoth knows Geppie doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

 “Alright,” Sampo responded, rubbing his temples. That was close. Too close.

 After a couple of minutes of silence and trying to calm his heartbeat, Sampo emerged carefully, making sure everything was extra secure. It was a little naive to leave a complete stranger— especially one from the Underworld, what with their reputation— alone in your apartment— but perhaps that was just how the Landaus were. Gepard had taken a complete stranger to meet his sister and soon his parents. 

Perhaps it was naiveté, perhaps it was simply wanting to believe the best of everyone— but the truth is, one day it would hurt them, and Sampo found himself hoping he wasn’t around to see it happen.

 He descended the staircase slowly and quietly, listening in to Serval and Gepard’s conversation.

 “—so just go easy on her, okay? If you’re as blunt as you are usually, you’ll ruin this poor girl’s confidence.”

 “How did you even get all this from a six minute conversation?” 

 “Look, we girls have our ways, alright? Just.. say something nice when she comes down, ‘kay?” Gepard didn’t get a chance to respond, because Sampo stepped in just the wrong place and the stair creaked menacingly. Hurriedly, he descended the rest, not wanting to reveal he’d been eavesdropping.

 “You’re very pretty, Kassi.” The room was dead silent. Serval looked to be dying inside.

 “…Pardon?”

 “Sorry, I’m sure what my very dumb brother means to say is that that dress looks great on you. In a very not creepy way.” Serval seemed to be sending telepathic knives Gepard’s way, as he winced and looked away, coughing awkwardly. Sampo chuckled.

 “No harm, no foul. I get that a lot, so I guess I’m used to it… men, am I right?” Luckily, that seemed to be the right thing to say, as Serval’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

 “Yeah,” she nodded, sighing.

 “Actually… it’s getting pretty late. You two should head out— I need to get ready. See you there?” Gepard nodded and turned towards the door, Sampo following.

 “Thanks for everything, Serval,” Sampo called over his shoulder, to which she gave an affirmative “mhm!” from somewhere back inside the shop.

 They stepped out fully into the evening air, the sun rapidly fading below the horizon. It was getting colder, and Sampo found himself leaning closer into his fur scarf he’d kept from his original outfit draped over his shoulder. Gepard didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t you need to change, Gepard?”

 “Oh, my parents keep a room for me at the manor. If you don’t mind waiting, I can run in and change.” Sampo shivered. The dress didn’t have sleeves, only spaghetti straps, and the fur wasn’t doing all that much.

 “Yeah, that sounds great.”

 “Cool.” They kept walking in silence, lamps flickering on as the light slowly faded. Eventually, the buildings became grander and grander, and fewer people walked alongside them. They came to a stop outside of a building more than five stories tall, gentle piano music floating from the open door.

 “Will you be okay out here by yourself?” Gepard asked, a little concern showing through his normally stoic face. “I would bring you in, but once we enter together, it’ll have to be announced— it’s a whole thing— and then I won’t be able to leave to get changed.”

 “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Sampo managed, shuddering against the cold. It would only be a couple of minutes, and he was a big boy. He’d be fine.

 “Alright,” Gepard smiled, “I’ll be quick.” With that, he strode towards the building, speaking in hushed tones with the guard at the door, who looked over at him. Sampo gave a little wave, and they exchanged a few words before Gepard left, vanishing inside. Sampo, in the meantime, leaned against a wall and began to wait.

 It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes before he began to shiver violently. His teeth were chattering inside his mouth, too. He tried to pace a little, but quickly began attracting weird looks from passerby, so he resumed his earlier position and continued waiting for Gepard.

Eventually, Blondie reemerged, newly dressed, as promised. Sampo had, perhaps, never wanted to see him more. He tried to whip up a smile through his chattering teeth, but it really came out as more of a squinty sort of grimace.  

“I could use y-your jacket, y’know.” 

Gepard wasted no time passing it over, guilt warping his features.

 “Let’s get you inside, huh? It’s freezing out here.”

 “Yes,” Sampo agreed, nodding vigorously. “Let’s.”

 And indeed, as soon as they stepped inside, the air was much warmer, despite the doors being wide open.

Rich people. The Underworld was a touch warmer than topside, but even there the amount of money one would need to stave off the Freeze with this kind of power would probably fill the Grand Goethe Hotel.

 Sampo glanced to his left, at the man leading him inside. In his abject misery, he hadn’t really had a mind to process what Gepard was wearing. The Captain was also in a three piece, though it was white, similar to his usual attire. He also sported a black collared shirt underneath and baby blue accents, which, Sampo had to admit, suited him nicely. Pun intended. It didn’t scream luxury like Sampo’s glittering getup did, but somehow he found it radiated a wealthier aura nonetheless.

“Hey,” Gepard said, interrupting his train of thought, “we’re about to go in, so please allow me to hold your arm. And just… be ready. The light they shine at you is very bright. Think of it like you’re going on stage.” Sampo didn’t have much time at all to question this before Gepard placed a hand firmly on his arm and led him into the ballroom.

 A spotlight shone down on them, making it almost impossible to see anything in the dimly lit room. 

It felt a lot less like “presenting oneself onstage” and a bit more like drowning in a fishbowl.

 “Presenting the Young Master, Captain Gepard Landau, and Kassi Mokpo.” There was a smattering of polite applause before the spotlight dimmed, the lights brightened slightly, and the two of them descended the grand staircase and entered the fray.

 Sampo found that though his eyes were still swimming from the light, he could see much more clearly now. Clusters of people had formed around the room, with graceful waiters carrying trays of sparkling beverages and sweets between them all. Gentle orchestral music floated in from an attached room, clearly heard above the chatter but tastefully soft enough as to not overtake the conversation.

 They were approached almost immediately by a rather meek looking man, whom Gepard made small talk with for a very long few seconds before he excused them. Sampo snagged two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to Gepard, who almost immediately took an astoundingly dainty sip. Sampo snorted. At least three heads turned towards them.

 “What’s so funny?”

 “C’mon, you clearly need some heavy spirits and you’re out here sipping from this fancy little glass? Might as well lift your pinky while you’re at it!” Gepard sighed, a cute little huff.

 “Party etiquette doesn’t exactly please me either.”

 “So, Sampo started, snatching a dazzling bracelet off of a passing woman’s wrist on reflex, “What’s the game plan?”

 “Well, there’s a bit of an order to whom we have to greet and when. And, uh…” Gepard rubbed his neck, glancing down. “My parents are first.” Great. Starting off strong.

 “You say that as if the world will end when they meet me.” 

Gepard winced.

 “What?” Sampo cried, “What’s not to love about good ‘ole Kassi?” He let Geppie flounder for a second, laughing a little at the trap he’d so easily sprung and watching the poor guy struggle to back out.

 “Hey,” he said, resting a hand on Gepard’s arm and adopting a more serious tone, “don’t worry your pretty little head too much. It’s not a good look on you. I’ve met my fair share of disapproving parents, and there’s nothing they can say to me I haven’t already heard.” 

Gepard still seemed uneasy, leading the way with a dreadful drag to his footsteps that made it clear how terrified he was. 

 Sampo noticed that, surprisingly, no one came up to them. They certainly weren’t going unnoticed— he counted about four different stares following them across the room right then—but instead of the flocking crowds he was expecting for Gepard’s sake, people actively moved away from them as they walked. 

They began to slow, and Sampo drew his attention back to the people they were now approaching. 

 Mr. and Mrs. Landau were not quite central, in the grand scheme of the party, but not quite on the fringes, either. They appeared to have their very own spotlight; perhaps to make it obvious to all of their guests wherever Their Majesties were at all times. Both shared the family’s pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes, but Sampo found it made them look rather unworldly– nothing like the teenage heartthrob magic the look had cast over their son.

 As the last few people before them cleared away, Gepard’s posture noticeably straightened, shoulders rising, and he looped his arm through Sampo’s— who quickly copied the exceedingly formal pose of everyone else in the room by placing his hand delicately on the offered forearm. And then it was their turn.

 “Father. Mother.” Gepard fell into a deep bow, pulling Sampo down with him. They stayed there for a good few seconds before rising again. 

Starting to see why he hates this, Sampo muttered internally.

 “It is an honor to attend this gala tonight. Might I introduce you to my companion this evening?” His voice was nearly monotone, his speech almost rhythmic and obviously practiced. Sampo shivered despite the warmth.

 “Yes,” came his father’s voice, impossibly even further iced over, “you may. Continue.”

 “This is Kassi Mokpo, a very good friend of mine.” Gepard paused, expectantly. Sampo dropped into a curtsy with all the grace he could muster, desperately hoping that that was the right thing to do. Mrs. Landau gave the faintest of smiles.

 “And how long,” asked his mother, all emotion already gone, “have you been, as you say, “good friends”?”

 “I have known her for several years now, but we’ve been friends for approximately nine months, mother.” His father’s face tightened. He zeroed in on Sampo, stare oddly reminiscent of Serval’s.

 “I’m afraid I do not recognize your surname, Miss Mokpo. An interesting phenomenon, considering I am intrinsically familiar with all of Belobog’s nobility.” Gepard shrank further back, and anger flickered across Gepard’s mother’s face. Sampo remained unmoved.

 “I’m not from a noble family, sir.” Gepard’s father narrowed his eyes, as if he wasn’t exactly surprised, but in fact, was still waiting for the other shoe.

 “Interestingly enough, the etymology of “Mokpo” is quite unlike anything we’ve seen in High Belobog for hundreds of years.” He peered down his nose at Sampo, who was beginning to feel a bit of anger rear up underneath his skin. It was common knowledge that the nobles considered the citizens of lower Belobog to be at the bottom of the food chain, but not often was it said so completely snootily.

 “Maybe,” Sampo retorted, trying to keep his temper in check, “that’s because I’m not from upper Belobog. Sir.” 

Landau Senior grimaced, but it was the kind of disgust that made it clear he’d definitely anticipated something of this magnitude.

As if it’s the worst thing I could really be. You have no idea what I’d do to this party for enough money, and you’re still seething. Sampo usually didn’t worry himself over what the disagreements between the two worlds wrought— aside from the money it could make him– but sometimes he was brutally reminded of how much the separation really made him different to these people .

And not in a good way.

He turned to his son, who was looking rather like he’d love to vanish into thin air, and spoke again.

 “Gepard, what have I told you about fraternizing with the Underworld ?” He spat the last word like a piece of meat too tough for his delicate teeth. Gepard made a move to speak, but his father cut him off.

 “Exactly. Not to do it. That woman is a liar, a thief, and a criminal. You are an aristocrat. Act like it.” His tone was harsh, bordering on cruel, but the words cut ever deeper.

 “Hey, you could at least have the courtesy to insult me to my face,” quipped Sampo, trying to raise the mood a bit and make a getaway. 

Gepard’s father didn’t turn.

  Oh .

 “Liger!” Gepard’s mother exclaimed, as if she had come to the realization at the same time as Sampo. 

 “Fine,” Sampo said, rage tempering into something fiercer at the fact that this man now wouldn’t even bother leaving room for him to speak.

 “Ignore the ‘scum beneath your shoes,’ then. I have worked with my own two hands to make every bit of ‘criminal’ success I have ever earned, unlike almost everyone in this room, and I definitely don’t need the approval of this bigheaded fucking family.” He turned to storm off dramatically, but not even Gepard– who he was STARTING to think might be more than met the eye– seemed to take mind of his words. 

Sampo huffed, and slipped into the clamor of the party. Fine.

 As he wove his way through the crowd and towards the exit, a thought struck him.

 Serval. Serval’s dress.

 Now, normally, this wouldn’t be even the slightest of barriers… but, uncharacteristically, Sampo found that guilt at the thought of taking what was so freely given, had slowly begun to claw into his chest. Damnit . 

 Following this whim, he pivoted, heading instead towards the grand staircase that the two of them had entered from. If he could sneak into a guest room to change, a hasty escape would be no problem. The man manning the door very politely pointed him towards the bathrooms, and then Sampo was off.

 Two thugs peered curiously at the rapidly shrinking back of one Kassi Mokpo.

 “That her?”

 “That’s her alright, or I’m Supreme Guardian Bronya.” They chuckled. 

No loose ends. The hunt was on. 

…………………

Sampo tried the first few doorknobs down a hallway he was almost certainly not allowed in and found them locked. Typical—until he spotted the one at the far end, tipped slightly ajar. Bingo.

 Slipping inside, he quickly and quietly shut the door behind him, pressing his fingertips into the side to ensure there wasn’t a resounding click. And he locked it, too, just for good measure.

 Sampo didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, focusing more on getting undressed. Normally, he just made his way home in full dress, but this time he couldn’t afford to be noticed. Unfortunately, this meant he didn’t have a way to carry his garb— nor did he have backup clothes. And, as much as he’d like to see the dumbstruck look on Gepard’s unhelpful face, he needed subtlety right now. 

Cursing, he searched the room, half-dressed, until he found a duffel bag and a closet. 

 A closet full of tight-fitting black turtlenecks, with a suit of armor hung meticulously front and center, not a speck of dust or dirt on it. 

He wasn’t in any room. He was in Gepard’s room. Or, rather, his childhood room— the Captain preferred to stay in a small but neatly kept apartment near the fragmentum zone. Easier to commute that way.

 Shaking off the realization, Sampo grabbed a pair of pants and one of the many turtlenecks and began re-dressing. They were about the same size, so it shouldn’t matter that much… but the fabric was roomy, bunching and folding excessively. Oh well. The biggest issue here was the knock to Sampo’s pride— how was Gepard that much more muscular than him?! 

Sure, he was the head of the military, and sure, he probably got up insanely early every day to work out, sweat running in thin trails over his muscular form—

  Alright, enough of THAT, thanks. Sampo had things to do now, he couldn’t waste time getting… distracted. Especially not like that. Stupid Gepard and his stupid attractiveness!

 He shoved his wig and dress in the bag, wincing a little at his own roughness before pushing them down to make space. Then, much more carefully, he loaded the various valuable trinkets he’d nicked from people throughout the night.

Some of this could be worth millions!

 Suddenly, piercing the silence, two sets of thudding footsteps came up the hall.

  Shit .

 Sampo hurriedly zipped up the bag, growling when the zipper caught on the ruffled fabric inside. He could hear them pounding on the doors leading up to Gepard’s room.

 He unlatched the window, even had one leg out and was about to elegantly fall from the building—

 With a crash, the two men shoved their way through the locked door, guns raised and pointed, well— right at Sampo’s beautiful face. Now that wouldn’t do, would it?

 “Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s be civil here!” Sampo chuckled, a smirk growing on his face. “You got me in kind of a tight position, you know.”

 “Koski,” the first man growled, eyes darkening. “You stood us up.”

 “Not exactly,” Sampo drawled, though it didn’t come across quite as confident as he was hoping.

 “So?” Thug Number 2 snarled, “Where’s your pretty little girlfriend, huh? She real pleased about making a fool of us?”

 “Oh, there’s been a misunderstanding.” He paused for dramatic effect, the two men begrudgingly waiting for his explanation.

 “I don’t like women.” 

Apparently, this was the last straw.

  Numero Uno charged at him, so Sampo quickly freed his leg from the window and dashed to the side at the last moment, leaving his assailant stuck headfirst in his main escape route. Oops.

 Thinking quickly, he made for the door, just barely swinging his duffel bag from Thing 2’s fleeting grab at it before dashing down the hall. He fired a couple shots after him, which, thank Qlipoth, all missed— except for one that shot clear through his borrowed bag. Yikes.

 Gepard’s gonna really hate me after this one. 

Still, he pressed onwards, growing in speed as he turned away and into safety.

Secrecy was long since thrown to the wind as Sampo slammed his way through the door back into the ballroom, shoving aside the announcer, the two thugs still hot on his tail. With any luck, he’d lose them in the party.

 He slid down the bannister of the staircase, screams echoing out in the dimly lit ballroom as the nobility scrambled in their race to get out of the way. Sampo shoved through the crowd instead of the path that cleared down the center of the room, hiding himself among the panic and desperately hoping the thugs would miss him. Glass shattered somewhere. He came face-to-face with a younger woman who had gone quite pale, her eyes blown wide with the shock of it all. Sampo winked at her as he slid her watch from her wrist and dashed onward.

 Shouts and screams still followed him as he dashed out of the building, but he seemed to have lost his followers. He’d definitely gained some new stares from passersby, though, so Sampo elected to keep running. They would gawk, sure, but no one would run after him. No noble had the balls.

 As Sampo turned down an alley towards the seedier part of town, he slowed a little, finally taking the time to drop the watch he’d been holding since mid-ballroom into the bag. That was when he noticed the footsteps growing louder behind him.

 It’s probably fine, he thought to himself, just a pedestrian . But the footsteps were heavy and hurried, and Sampo picked up the pace again as the other person rounded the corner and—

 “Sampo?” He stopped dead in his tracks, swiveling slowly.

 “Geppie, my buddy! My pal, my good ‘ole amigo, if you will.”

 “I will not.”

 “You will someday. It is so crazy to see you here! Rumor down in the underground is you’re busy at some fancy party tonight.” Gepard’s eyes narrowed. Sampo slowly inched backwards. If he could get to the crossroads behind him, he could drop a smoke bomb and disappear.

 “The Indomitable Shield is actually taking a night off, perhaps? Got a hot date?” Gepard actually flinched, and Sampo couldn’t help the perverse spark of satisfaction that bloomed in his gut.

 “Wow, really? You know, it’s rude to leave a girl alone like that.” Gepard’s face flickered through a range of emotions, eventually settling on annoyance.

 “It’s not your place to comment on my love life, Koski,” he hissed, and Sampo’s smile grew ever wider. He was so close to the road now, but…

 Well, he never could resist a little bit of teasing.

 He dropped the duffel bag. Gepard’s eyes narrowed. Sampo stalked towards him, tantalizingly slowly, never breaking eye contact. 

 “I wonder… what’s she like? Is she smarter than me? Funnier than me?” 

 “She’s not a criminal,” Gepard snapped back, though the anger was halfhearted, laced with uncertainty that made Sampo the tiniest bit offended on Kassi’s behalf. He continued approaching.

 “Is she prettier than me?” Gepard flushed, glancing to the side as if he was suddenly unable to meet Sampo’s gaze. Curious.

 “Not prettier than me, then?” Gepard looked as if he wanted to respond, but Sampo was close enough now to put a finger to his lips.

 “Is she rich? Rich beyond your wildest dreams? Is she powerful— enough so to control our politicians like puppets from the shadows?” Jealousy crept into his words, despite him and Gepard’s “hot date” being one and the same… because he would never be her, not really. Kassi could be anything; the perfect girl, Gepard’s dream girl, even, but she could never be Sampo Koski, and Sampo Koski could never be her.

Now he slipped in close, mouth brushing the edge of the captain’s ear.

 “Does she do it better than I do? Get you going? Get your heart racing, your blood pumping? Does she make you feel alive like I do?” Gepard swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. Yet, Sampo waited. Waited for an answer. Because where any sane man would take his chance and run, Sampo Koski needed an answer. And let it never be said that he was a sane man.

“You’re Kassi,” Gepard whispered. Sampo froze.

He licked his lips and laughed dryly. “You caught me, Captain.” He leaned back, the air between them suddenly becoming entirely too cold. Sampo hoisted out his wrists.

 “Come on, this one’s a freebie. I know you carry a spare set of handcuffs.” But Gepard just blinked at him.

 “Why… Why would you do that? You met my sister… and you met my parents.” Sampo chuckled nervously.

 “Yup. Now, uh, if you will. You’re making me feel guilty here, Gep.”

 “Oh gods… the awful things they said to you…” Gepard took a step back, his face awash in genuine concern.

 “Hey… don’t sweat it. But, uh, hurry up here, Captain, I’m freezing.”

 “I say that kind of stuff to you almost every time we meet. Is that…How do you take that?” Gepard looked back towards him, and his gaze was so raw with emotion Sampo actually had to recoil. Gepard flinched.

 “Look, I won’t even fight you. No smoke bombs or anything. Promise.”

 “Sampo.”

 “And Sampo Koski never breaks his promises.”

 “SAMPO.”

 “WHAT? What is it, Gepard?” 

It was silent. Utterly silent. And Gepard just stared.

Sampo’s face twisted into something a little darker.

 “You know what? It doesn’t feel great, Golden Boy, because not all of us can afford to just prance around doing nothing all day. Some of us have to go out and get food if we want it on our tables. Some of us have to live in squalor because the alternative is becoming some Fragmentum creature. Some of us can’t take showers, having to share baths because there isn’t enough clean water to go around.”

 “So yeah, I worked FUCKING hard for every single thing I have. And it doesn’t feel good when the guy I like is harping on that just because it doesn’t fit his standards of a proper job.” 

Gepard just stood there, blinking. His jaw hung slack, his lips parted in shock.

Not my problem if he can’t understand all that.

 He turned to leave, picking up the duffel bag, heading back down the alley—

 “The guy you… what?” Sampo laughed harshly, throwing a glare over his shoulder.

 “Yeah, sure, bud, pick the part about you to latch onto. Not sure what I expected.”

 “No seriously, Sampo, what did you say?”

 “That I was into you? Please. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. I know you’re not interested, so if you’re gonna get all disgusted and go off on me or something, save it. I’m not in the mood.”

 “You like me?”

 “You’re making me start to doubt myself now, Gepard. But really; I go out of my way to get almost caught by you when I could most DEFINITELY evade capture otherwise— yeah, who do you think is dropping tips about my activities?— I flirt with you constantly, calling you cute and handsome and by various pet names, and I went to a fucking ball with you just because you looked sad! How much more obvious could I be?” And then—

 The cold vanished as two arms wrapped tightly around him, quivering slightly.

 “Sampo,” Gepard mumbled into his shoulder, “I’m so, so sorry.”

 “What?” Sampo whispered into the ear just inches from his face. “No ‘Koski’ this time?”

 But it was clear to both of them that his heart wasn’t in it. 

Gepard didn’t have any words for that, and Sampo didn’t either, and so they stood there alone, in silence, for the second time that day. It struck him how quickly time had flung by. It felt like forever, and yet, just this morning Sampo had gotten out of bed, put on that wig, and gone up to the surface to meet a client. Now all he wanted to do was slink away and return to that same bed. Maybe get in a good cry.

 Gepard was still wound around him, the warmth both relaxing him and sending shocks up and down his spine that he couldn’t keep going through.

 “Alright, big guy,” Sampo muttered, “you can let go now— careful, you might make me think my feelings are requited.” He huffed, but Gepard tucked himself tighter into the space on Sampo’s shoulder.

 “Um… Gepard?” 

A muffled noise came from where Gepard’s face hid.

 “I can’t hear you.” His head lifted— though his arms tightened, so maybe Sampo wasn’t that much closer to freedom. The little of Gepard’s face he could see from this awkward position of craning over his shoulder was flushed bright red.

 Sampo gulped.

 “I said,” Gepard whispered, “how do you know they aren’t?”

 “No,” Sampo laughed, “No, I know how that ends. I’m not making that mistake again.” Gepard looked very nearly offended, but Sampo finally managed to gently push him away.

“Nothing more happens between us, pretty boy, at the very least until you’re sure of any ‘feelings’ you may have.” Gepard blinked, his face red.

 “Hey. You in there?”

 “Sampo,” he started, “I never really liked anyone, at least, no one I can remember—“

 “Oh great,” Sampo mumbled, “here comes the speech.”

 “—So I guess I just assumed I was straight. Because that was the default. But, well… you’re really funny, and, uh, kind…” He trailed off, looking at the man he must have arrested at least a dozen times with a complicated mix of confusion and fascination.

And something else, maybe something else, Sampo’s mind whispered, but he crushed that thought, choosing to lock onto something more real instead.

 “Kind?” He snorted.

 “I think you are,” Gerard argued. “You never scam anyone who actually needs the money, and for all your shady business practices and… less than legal activities… you make secret donations to Natasha’s clinic, make sure those in your neighborhood are safe and advocated for, and, well— I guess what I’m trying to say is, Sampo Koski, I find that admirable.”

 No. Nope. This was not happening. And it was not going to happen. Ever.

 “I hate to break it to you, Gep, but admiration is not the same as—”

 “Don’t treat me like a kid,” Gepard snapped, though he looked incredibly embarrassed right after. “Sorry, I just—”

 “No,” Sampo interrupted, “I apologize. Go on.” Gepard sighed, as if steadying himself, then looked up, directly into Sampo’s eyes. 

 “I know what this is, I’m almost certain. And I think… there’s only one way to be sure.” He stepped closer, something determined in his crystalline eyes. And Sampo wouldn’t admit it on his deathbed, but his heart started to race.

 Gepard took Sampo’s hands in his own, and time slowed to nothing.

 “But, y’know, if I’m wrong…”

 “We never speak of this again?” Sampo couldn’t get his voice above a whisper.

Gepard nodded, leaning in. Sampo’s resolve faltered for a second— but then he raised his head again, and found the utter certainty in Gepard’s eyes and he couldn’t help but wish his own sexuality crisis had been so easily resolved.

 So blame the adrenaline, but Sampo leaned in too.

 The kiss was nothing special, nothing intense, nothing deep. Sampo kind of felt like he was kissing a wall. But Gepard looked like he’d just glimpsed some higher plane of being.

 And as Gepard continued to stare, star struck, Sampo doubled over with laughter— first at the absurdity of this whole situation, and then even harder from the overwhelming giddiness that came from that absolutely horrendous kiss.

 In the dim light of the nearest street lamp, Sampo looked into Gepard’s eyes and knew that it wasn’t perfect. After what happened at the ball, it wasn’t even good.

But it was a start. And they would make it.