Work Text:
Sampo notices her, because she clearly is not from Belobog. Perhaps it’s the way she holds herself–with confidence, but no arrogance like a Silvermane Guard. Perhaps it’s the way she dresses, without thought for the endless cold weather, although she hides her shivers well. Or perhaps it’s just because Sampo Koski has a keen eye for outsiders—after all, he was the one who discovered the Astral Express crew first when they landed on Belobog!
Regardless, he has noticed her, and her other two companions, because they had sat down at the table behind his while he was savoring the last minutes of his lunch break. Gepard had once pointed out that as an unemployed person, he shouldn’t call it a lunch break , but this is a fundamental misunderstanding of Sampo’s profession! He isn’t unemployed, but rather, self-employed, and therefore still entitled to lunch breaks. In fact, it’s even better, because he, as his own boss, gets to dictate his own lunch break times and never has to worry about getting back to the office on time, unlike Gepard, who always has to leave part way through the third course of their lunchtime meal. They had walked past Sampo and his sandwich, and he couldn’t help but look up, taking in the three of them before they sat down.
“How are we supposed to get out of there without being detected?” one of them is complaining, “the tech is so antiquated here that I can’t hack the security system!”
“Fight our way out,” another says simply.
“I just said we shouldn’t get caught,” the first one snaps back, “you can’t beat your way through everything.”
“Now, now,” She says calmly, “don’t fight. I’m sure there’s a solution to this. Elio wouldn’t have sent us on this mission otherwise.”
“Why do we even need this Stellaron data, anyways?” the first one asks, “it’s not going to tell us anything we don’t already know.”
Stellaron data? Sampo sips at his drink thoughtfully. The information regarding the Stellaron has been kept under lock and key in the Qlipoth Fort, along with all the important whatits and whosits. It’s the same Qlipoth Fort where a certain something is being kept that a certain buyer of Sampo’s had requested, but he had originally turned down, since it was all be impossible to get into to the fort without danger to his body. But in the days since that job had come in, two things had changed: the Silvermane Guards had announced a fundraiser ball to support the revitalization of Belobog, and Sampo had encountered this trio of outsiders.
Lowering his drink, Sampo puts on his best customer face and turns around, with an agility that makes the dark, glowery one tense up, eyes narrowing as he reaches for something–sword, Sampo identifies quickly, and two swords, and a blaster.
“Hello!” Sampo says, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop! But I hear you need a way into Qlipoth Fort?”
“What’s it to you?” This is the one with the silver hair, who scowls, hand inching towards her blaster.
“No, please don’t misunderstand!” Sampo says hastily. The last thing he needs is for a fight to break out and for himself to get hauled into Gepard’s office again. Or worse, for Gepard to decide he doesn’t want to deal with his nearest and dearest friend, and simply pawn him off on some less deserving subordinate that does not know how wonderful and helpful Sampo is.
“Well?” the silver-haired one says, after a brief pause in which Sampo tries to make himself look as unassuming as possible.
“Well,” he says, “I’m a businessman, and am always looking for the next good deal! I would be a fool if I ignored the one right in front of me! You want to get into Qlipoth Fort? I can get you in there! No problem!”
“And what’s in it for you?” The scowling one, the one that looks like a sword made human, asks.
“Well,” Sampo says, drawing out the word, “there is something in Qlipoth Fort that I need as well! I can help you out, if you can help me out!”
“What’s your name?” She speaks up, suddenly.
“Me? The one and only Sampo Koski, at your service,” Sampo tries his winning smile again, although it didn’t seem to have helped the first time. The corners of Her lips pull up, just a little, and She tilts her head, tapping Her finger against Her cheek.
“Hello, Sampo Koski,” She says, “it’s very nice to meet you. Why don’t you pull up a chair? I’d like to hear your offer.”
–
Something is going on.
Gepard isn’t exactly sure what it is, but something is definitely going on. He’d said that out loud earlier in the day, and Pela had looked at him like he’d just suggested they all wander into the wilderness and live among the Fragmentum. Of course, she could have just looked like that because he’d said it in the middle of a meeting with the Supreme Guardian, but luckily, Supreme Guardian Bronya had chosen to ignore his outburst.
While Gepard is thankful that his career had been saved, this still doesn’t solve the problem of the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lunch has passed, without issue or notable event, and Gepard is back at his desk now, with a stack of paperwork in front of him that doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller, despite how long he’s been working at it.
His door bursts open, and Gepard looks up to reveal Seele, scowling as she stomps into the room.
“What are you wearing tonight?” Seele demands.
“Tonight?” Gepard parrots.
“Yes, tonight,” Seele says, “for the ball.”
“My dress uniform?” Gepard says, eyebrows furrowing together. He’s not sure he understands the question. Seele scowls even deeper, throwing herself onto Sampo’s napping couch.
“Don’t sit there,” Gepard snaps, instinctively, his mouth turning downward to match the furrow of his brow.
“Bronya said I have to dress up for tonight,” Seele starts, ignoring Gepard, “and then I said,
‘what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ and she just looked at me!” Gepard also looks at Seele, in her normal clothes.
“It is a ball,” Gepard says, “most people will be dressed up.”
“Ugh,” Seele says, “you’re no help.”
“You must have something nice to wear,” Gepard responds, “and I meant it, Seele, please get off the couch.”
“Yes, my closet at my home in the Underworld is full of ball gowns,” Seele says sarcastically, “and I’ll sit here until you help me. The sooner you help me, the sooner I’ll get off Sampo’s couch.”
“It’s not Sampo’s couch,” Gepard says automatically, but he’s already shot off a series of increasingly urgent text messages to Serval. Serval knows about fashion, right? She can certainly help Seele out.
“I’m messaging my sister,” Gepard says to Seele, “she can help.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Seele brightens up, “that’s a great idea!”
As Seele continues on, Gepard looks again at the couch–despite what he’d said, it was Sampo’s couch. He could be found on it regularly enough, wandering in at all hours of the day, regardless of how busy Gepard was. Sampo had thoroughly charmed Mila, Gepard’s secretary, and now Sampo had free reign of his office.
Now that Gepard thinks back, though, it had been several weeks since he had seen Sampo in his office. It had been several weeks since he had even heard from Sampo. In fact, Gepard realizes as he looked at their message history, their last conversation had been almost a month ago, ending with Gepard’s admonition to “stop messing around, Sampo, I’m working.” At the time, Gepard had been relieved that Sampo had stopped. Now, however, he is disconcerted. Had he gone too far? Was Sampo upset by Gepard’s curt message? It had never seemed to bother him before. Gepard hesitates–maybe he should message Sampo to see how he was doing. But if Sampo was really upset, wouldn’t that make it worse? Should he ask if Sampo was mad?
But Gepard hadn’t risen to the rank of Captain without a little bit of risk. The message he settles setles on, simply, is ‘Are you coming to the ball tonight?’ .
There is a certain level of relief that Gepard feels when Sampo replied almost instantaneously, as he normally does, and Gepard can almost hear Sampo’s voice saying, ‘Of course!!! I would not miss it for anything.’
Nothing was going on, Gepard decides, yes, everything is fine.
–
“I think I did a good job,” Serval says smugly, and Gepard turns to follow her gaze, looking at Seele, fluttering by Bronya’s side. Both the Supreme Guardian and her…date? Partner? The relationship between Supreme Guardian Bronya and Seele is ambiguous and undefined to Gepard, but Seele is the only person who is allowed to wander in and out of the Supreme Guardian’s office without prior appointment.
“Yes?” Gepard says. Seele does objectively look good, with her hair pulled back and her fluttery dress. When standing next to Supreme Guardian Bronya, they make an elegant picture, of complementary contrasts, light and dark, hard and soft, instinct and discipline.
But if Gepard is being honest, he’s not really paying attention to what Seele is wearing or Serval’s smugness. He instead is looking around the room, listening for the sound of a specific laugh. After all, Sampo had said he was going to be here, and it wasn’t like Sampo to arrive late to a party, especially a party like this. Usually, Gepard would have to spend the whole night glued to Sampo’s side, making sure that he didn’t harass or pickpocket anyone.
“Are you even listening to me?” Serval asks, and Gepard turns his head and attention back to his big sister, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.
“What? Of course–” Gepard starts, and then stops, because walking through the door is Sampo, beaming widely. His messy hair has been tamed and slicked back, but is already threatening to escape what must have been several hours of primping in front of a mirror. His suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad figure. Sampo is gesticulating with one hand, as if to punctuate his point, and Gepard cannot help but follow the path of his hands, his fingers casually splayed. Sampo has surprisingly elegant hands, and perfectly maintained nails. His hands, despite his line of work, are soft, as if he takes special care to moisturize them every night. Gepard should know, he’s grabbed Sampo’s hand mid-pickpocketing enough times.
Sampo turns, his eternal smile on his lips, as he looks at, at–actually, Gepard isn’t sure who he’s looking at. It’s a woman, an elegant woman who tilts her head to look up at Sampo as he speaks, her big doe eyes meeting Sampo’s animated expression, a besotted smile on her face. Her hair is pulled back into an elegant bun, wisps framing her face, and her dress clings to her body, showing off a perfect hourglass. Her hand is tucked into the crook of Sampo’s elbow, dashing any hope that they had just arrived at the same time and had made friends with each other on the way in. They look good together, almost unbearably good, and Gepard finds himself clenching his champagne flute so hard it cracks.
“Whoa,” Serval says, but Gepard isn’t paying attention to her anymore. The woman leans in to Sampo slightly, swaying on her feet–dainty, tucked into strappy stiletto heels, and Sampo laughs at whatever she’s said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s his real laugh, Gepard realizes, the one he uses when he’s not looking for something from someone or just making nice. Gepard is moving before he knows it, walking swiftly towards Sampo and the mysterious woman.
Sampo, to his credit, notices Gepard almost immediately, and his face is no less sunny to see Gepard approaching.
“Captain!” Sampo greets. Captain? Sampo never calls him captain, Gepard thinks. The only reason that Sampo would call him Captain instead of his name is that he was trying to distance himself from Gepard…or trying to impress the woman.
“Sampo,” Gepard greets back, and is relieved to hear that his voice remains even and strong, “glad you could make it.”
“Of course!” Sampo’s smile widens, “I did say, didn’t I? I wouldn’t miss it for anything! Your uniform is very nice, Captain! I love how fetching it looks, it brings out the color of your eyes!”
There was that damned ‘Captain’ again. What did it mean, when Sampo called him Captain? Gepard had been so sure that he knew. It was part of the game they played, where Gepard caught Sampo doing something illegal, and then Sampo would try and sweet talk his way out of it unsuccessfully. But that was all in good fun. If Gepard was serious, Sampo would already have been exiled off-planet. But Sampo knew that, right? Right?
Gepard’s eyes flash to the woman, who is still sticking to Sampo like some sort of clingy fish. She, in turn, is looking at Gepard curiously with her big, innocent, feminine eyes.
“Darling,” the woman says, “aren’t you going to introduce us?” Darling ? Darling ? Gepard feels a little faint.
“Oh, of course, my love!” Sampo says, “this is Captain Gepard Landau, of Belobog’s Silvemane Guard, and a good friend of mine. Gepard, this is Miss Lucille Kafka, my beautiful, amazing, lovely, talented, ethereal, gorgeous girlfriend.”
Girlfriend?
There is a moment, then, where Gepard feels himself actually black out, as the word reverberates in his mind, and then he comes back to himself, and Sampo, looking worriedly at him. Sampo looks at his face, and then down, and Gepard follows his gaze–ah, Gepard realizes. He’s crushed the champagne glass in his hand. He’s bleeding.
“Captain!” Sampo exclaims, “you are bleeding!” He reaches out–with both hands, Gepard notes, he’s detached himself from Lucille–and has somehow obtained a cloth napkin, which he’s now using to take Gepard’s hands gently, turning them over to examine the damage.
“Oh,” Gepard says faintly, “these glasses, you know. They aren’t very well made.”
“Is there a doctor around?” Lucille looks around with an appropriate amount of concern, raising her voice slightly. Her eyes scan all over the ballroom, leaving no corner unseen. Through the crowd, Doctor Natasha comes through, without her usual lab coat, but looking no less kindly.
“Oh my,” Natasha says, taking in the situation quickly, “Captain, why don’t we step into a side room? We’ll need to stop the bleeding and make sure there aren’t any glass shards left in the wounds.”
“Yes,” Gepard says, “of course.”
“Should I come with you?” Sampo asks, his hands still lingering on Gepard’s, worry apparent from the tilt of his eyebrows. Gepard’s eyes flicker to Lucille, who has now moved on to warning the partygoers around them to be careful of the glass and champagne puddle on the floor.
“No, it’s alright,” Gepard says, “enjoy the party. Dance with your girlfriend.”
“But–” Sampo starts, and Gepard shakes his head.
“Let’s go over here, Dr. Natasha,” Gepard says, “there’s a side room over here.”
“Alright,” she says, “keep putting pressure on that hand.” As they make their way across the room, Gepard makes it a point to not look back at Sampo, not wanting to see him looking at Gepard with his sad, puppy dog eyes–or even worse, not looking back at him.
–
Dr. Natasha is a quiet, but reassuring presence as she works on Gepard’s hand. It’s clear to see why she is as respected as she is by the citizens of Belobog, and why Supreme Guardian Bronya often consults her advice on matters. On a different night, Gepard would have been interested in hearing Dr. Natasha’s opinions on the rebuilding of Belobog, as well as Overworld and Underworld politics. As it is, though, Gepard can only think of one topic of conversation.
“Sampo has a girlfriend,” Gepard breathes the sentence out, and he’s not sure if it’s a statement, or a question, or neither.
“It would seem so,” Dr. Natasha says, with what seems to be amusement in her voice.
“Sampo,” Gepard stresses, “Sampo Koski. The man who couldn’t commit to a single pastry so he bought out the store! The man who I once almost arrested because he got his foot stuck in a gutter–literally! He has a girlfriend?”
“Sampo has many charming points,” Dr. Natasha admonishes gently, “is it truly so surprising that someone would find him attractive?”
“No,” Gepard admits, “he does have a classically good-looking face and a devil-may-care attitude, and it is my understanding that those are attractive features to other individuals. But he’s never been interested in anyone before!”
“Well, people change their mind,” Dr. Natasha says, leaning back, “perhaps Sampo has changed his mind. But, and please pardon me for my rudeness, Captain, but if you’re worried about Sampo’s relationship status changing your friendship, I don’t think you should be. For all his…commitment issues, I’ve never known Sampo to abandon anyone he considers a friend, have you?”
“No,” Gepard admits again. But Dr. Natasha has it all wrong. It’s not the fear of their relationship changing that is looming over Gepard, but something else entirely that he cannot place, a sense of wrongness that nips at his heels like a continuous mantra to ‘fix this.’
“All done!” Dr. Natasha sits back, carefully taking off her gloves, “I’ll message you next week to follow up, but please come see me if there’s any redness or a burning sensation. I’m also going to write you a prescription, which you can have filled here in the Overworld, or you can come see me in the Underworld.”
“A prescription? For bleeding?” Gepard asks, frowning down at his neatly wrapped hands.
“Oh no,” Dr. Natasha says, “it’s medicine for stress reduction. In my professional opinion, you need it.”
–
Gepard does not get Dr. Natasha’s prescription filled. His stress levels, while high, are fine. It’s just part and parcel of being Captain of the Silvermane Guards. He knew, upon being appointed Captain, that there were certain things that he wouldn’t be able to avoid. One of those things was paperwork, and the other was stress. He was doing just fine without any calming tea for stress, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about Sampo.
If Gepard had spent the last 48 hours looking into Sampo’s new girlfriend–it was only out of friendship, of course. As friends, Gepard was morally obliged to ensure that Sampo was dating a respectable member of society, never mind that Sampo himself was not exactly who one would consider a ‘respectable member of society.’ But regardless of his reasoning, Gepard hadn’t come up with much. Lucille Kafka came from outside Belobog, one of the many people who had started to arrive on the planet, now that the Stellaron was contained. The reason for her trip had been listed as ‘tourism’, which strikes Gepard as a strange reason to come to Belobog. Certainly, if you are interested in snow, snow, and more snow, come to Belobog, but Gepard can’t fathom why anyone would choose to spend their time in an eternal freeze.
Besides that, however, there is very little about Lucille Kafka, and certainly nothing on her criminal record. That doesn’t reassure Gepard at all, however. Lucille could still be a criminal, one that has never been caught yet. Perhaps Sampo doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. Yes, Sampo has been known to skirt the law, but he’s never malicious about it. This cosmopolitan traveler girlfriend of his, however, could be in all sorts of intergalactic crime.
Yes, perhaps she is the kingpin of a large organized crime network, and now that the Stellaron is gone, they are moving in on Jarilo-VI, intent on establishing their network of crime before their rival organizations get the same idea. And Sampo is only her in to Jarilo-VI’s underworld, and she’ll suck Sampo dry for his connections and money before discarding him, leaving him alone, penniless, and frozen in the wilderness–
“Captain Gepard.”
Gepard whips his head up, looking into the cool gaze of Supreme Guardian Bronya, who is sitting calmly at the head of the long table. She, along with every other important Belobog official, is starting at Gepard, who can only clear his throat and say, in as confident a voice as possible,
“I’m sorry, Madam Guardian. Could you kindly repeat that?”
“I was just asking, Captain Gepard,” Bronya says, with some amusement, “if you had anything to add to the report.” She gestures to the report in front of them, and Gepard glances down. Oh yes. The revitalization report, updated after a successful fundraiser ball.
“No, ma’am,” Gepard clears his throat, “nothing to add. But…” He trails off, causing Bronya to raise an eyebrow.
“But?” she repeats. Gepard clears his throat again.
“While the council is here,” he says, “I’d like to propose something. In opening up Belobog to interstellar visitors and commerce, we are also inviting the potential for unsavory elements to enter our society. I’d like permission to investigate Belobog’s underworld, and research ways to shore up our defenses in that regard.”
Bronya is silent, tapping her fingers against her crossed arm. Finally, she sighs, deeply, and shakes her head.
“Captain Gepard,” Bronya says, “why don’t you see me after the meeting and we can discuss further.”
–
“Listen,” Bronya says flatly, when the rest of the council has left the room and it’s just the two of them, “Seele told me what happened at the ball. You can’t stalk Sampo, Gepard.”
“I’m not stalking him!” Gepard sputters, “it’s a legitimate concern about the safety and economic protection of Belobog and–”
“You’d be a poor captain to use Belobog resources for your own gain,” Bronya cuts through his feeble explanation, “and I’d be a poor Supreme Guardian to let you. Lucille Kafka is a perfectly nice lady and doesn’t deserve your misplaced judgment.”
“Have you met her?” Gepard bursts out.
“As a matter of fact,” Bronya replies, cool as ice, “I have. Seele introduced us while you were getting glass out of your hand. We had lunch two days ago. And like I said, she’s a very nice lady. She’ll be good for Sampo.”
“This isn’t happening,” Gepard mutters.
“You’re right,” Bronya says, “this isn’t happening. Request denied, Captain Gepard.”
–
Gepard can’t sleep, that night. If he’s being honest, he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since the Silvermane ball–no, even before then. Since the last time Sampo sauntered into his office and threw himself on the couch.
Gepard lays in bed, like he normally does, and stares up at his ceiling, and he can’t stop thinking about Sampo, the way Sampo had smiled at Lucille, the way the two of them had looked together, like a matched pair, the way that Gepard wishes it was–
Gepard shoots straight up, and grabs his pillow, pressing his face into it as he screams at the top of his lungs.
It’s a testament to how bad Gepard feels the next morning that he goes to Serval’s workshop. He hasn’t gone to Serval for comfort since he was thirteen years old and had gotten his ass beat in training. And she’d done for him then what she does to him now, which is, level him with a look that is somehow conveyed both sympathy and no sympathy at all.
“Molly,” Serval says, not taking her eyes off of Gepard, “I’m going to take my break, now.”
She leads Gepard into the back rooms of the workshop, pushing aside machines and musical instruments alike, before kicking out some crates and gesturing for Gepard to sit.
“I have a pretty good idea of what this is all about,” Serval says, “but why don’t you tell me anyways.”
“It’s just, Sampo !” Gepard bursts out, “all of a sudden he has a girlfriend? After no indication that he was looking for a partner? And who knows who she is? She just–just came out of nowhere! She doesn’t know what Sampo’s favorite snacks are, or what kind of mattress firmness he prefers, or what time of day you can expect him to show up, or what things he’s superstitious about!”
“Geppie,” Serval says, gently, “these are things that you can learn about a person, that you do learn about a person, if you like them. And it’s not like you were born knowing those things about Sampo, right? You had to learn them too.”
“That’s different,” Gepard says immediately, “I had to learn so I could keep up with him and keep him in check.”
“Is that it?” Serval pushes.
“What other reason could there be?” Gepard asks.
“Geppie,” Serval says again, “is it possible, perhaps, that you’re in love with Sampo?”
“What?” Gepard says, flatly.
–
“I’m not in love with him! He’s flighty and unreliable,” Gepard says, “I know that. And he never listens to you when you tell him to stay put, and he bribes your secretary with chocolate, and takes up your couch for so many hours of the day. He literally has his own filing cabinet of reports about him scamming people out of money. But he’s also so funny, and is so quick to pick up on your mood. He always knows when you’re having a bad day, and remembers exactly how much sugar you take in your coffee, and what kind of ice cream you like, and when the anniversary of your dog’s death was. He’s a great listener, but can fill in silence so naturally. Of course he has a girlfriend! Of course someone is in love with him! I would be too! I can’t be in love with him! I am in love with him!” Gepard pauses, and then buries his head in hands.
“Preservation,” Gepard whispers, “I’m in love with Sampo Koski.”
Besides him, there is the thunk of a mug hitting wood, and Gepard turns, slowly, hands sliding off his face. He’d forgotten that he was sitting next to someone, someone who had just heard his whole confession. He’d introduced himself, although Gepard was embarrassed to realize that he didn’t remember the other man’s name.
“That’s rough, buddy,” he says, pushing back his red hair from where it had fallen into his face, “but now you know what to do, right?”
“What do I do?” Gepard whispers.
“Well, you gotta tell him!” the other man says brightly. The instinctive No! that comes to Gepard’s mind is beaten back by the more rational part of his mind, the part that sounds like himself. Of course he has to tell him. The only way out of the blizzard is through the snow.
“Hey, Luka!” Someone calls, and the man twists around on his stool, calling back, “yeah, coming!” He turns back to Gepard, and claps a hand on his shoulder.
“You got this, man,” Luka says, with a bright grin on his face, “I believe in you!”
“Thanks,” Gepard says faintly, and as Luka dashes off, he buries his head back into his hands.
–
The best way to deal with an unfamiliar situation is to formulate a plan of attack. This is exactly what Gepard was taught in school. A good plan of attack covers many possibilities, is flexible, and most importantly, is unexpected by the enemy. Except, Sampo is not the enemy in this situation. Who is the enemy in this situation? Fate? Paperwork? This stumps Gepard a little–he can’t exactly figure out a plan specific to the enemy if he doesn’t know who the enemy is–and this, in combination with his phone going crazy with messages, puts his plan on hold.
Red Alert: Admin district , the message from Pela reads, Anomalies in security data. Gepard squares his shoulders, putting aside his personal thoughts and picking his work thoughts back up. At least he can still compartmentalize.
Gepard scans the streets as he enters the Administrative District, slowly making his way towards Qlipoth Fort. Everything looks normal–civilians, going about their day slowly, guards, going about the square quickly, and–Sampo, gesticulating wildly over a map with two other people Gepard has never seen before.
“Sampo!” Gepard calls, all thoughts of compartmentalization and Pela’s urgent message leaving his mind. Sampo whirls around, and Gepard also sees him holding some sort of wrapped object in his hand.
“Gepard!” Sampo greets with a smile. Oh, so he’s back to Gepard, now? How is Gepard supposed to interpret that? Gepard would ask, but his eyes flick to the two strangers with Sampo–a teenager chewing gum aggressively, and a tall, brooding man whose expression is almost as gloomy as his clothes.
“What are you doing out here?” Gepard asks, spitting the words out. It feels awkward, like a demand, rather than a friendly question.
“Oh, these are my new friends Taylor and Tyler!” Sampo says easily, gesturing to each in turn, “I was just showing them on the map where the History and Culture Museum. See, we passed it three blocks ago, in the Square.”
“I see,” Tyler says stiffly, and takes the map from Sampo, squinting at the map, “three blocks back. In the Square.”
“We’ll meet you there,” Taylor says, popping her gum, “come on…Tyler.” Sampo waves cheerfully as they go, while Gepard watches them with more suspicion. There are an awful lot of newcomers to Belobog, lately.
“It’s good to see you, Gepard!” Sampo says, “I feel like we never talk anymore!”
“You haven’t been to my office in a while,” Gepard points out. Sampo nods, thoughtfully.
“You’re right,” Sampo says, “I bet Mila misses me. Has she asked about me?” I miss you , Gepard almost says, but he bites it back. That’s not a very good lead-in to confessing his love.
“No,” Gepard says, “why would she? You being around just makes more work for her.” That’s not what he meant to say, either. Luckily, though, Sampo doesn’t take offense.
“Ah, that just means I keep her employed!” Sampo says, “I ensure that a lovely person such as herself continues to grace your empty, cold office with her energy and youth!” Gepard just stares at Sampo. Despite himself, he feels a rush of fondness in this moment. This is exactly the kind of silly thing that is all Sampo.
“Alright, then,” Gepard says, “well, you should come see her soon then.”
“I will!” Sampo says easily, and then glances up and over Gepard’s shoulder, peering into the distance.
“Ah, I see Taylor and Tyler waving at me,” Sampo says, “I should catch up to them. The museum, you know.”
“Ah, okay,” Gepard says awkwardly. He can see the moment closing, as Sampo steps past him, steps light and quick, and Sampo has passed, one step, two steps, before Gepard turns around suddenly, decisively.
“You like spicy peanuts!” Gepard yells. Sampo looks startled, almost dropping the object in his hand. His eyes are wide as he looks at Gepard, lips parted slightly.
“What?” Sampo asks.
“You like spicy peanuts!” Gepard repeats, “and if the mattress isn’t so soft you sink into it, you can’t sleep. You take your coffee with one sugar, but half the creamer pot, and you like pistachio ice cream, and you had a dog named Sacha when you were growing up! You only sell cursed objects once a month! I always know to expect you after 3 o’clock, because I don’t have any meetings after then, and you always wait until I’m done to come see me!”
“What are you talking about, Gepard?” Sampo asks, looking even more confused, and a little nervous.
“I’m saying,” Gepard says, “that I’m in love with you, you blockhead! But you’re dating Lucille Kafka, and I’ve missed my chance!”
Sampo’s jaw drops, and he takes a step closer to Gepard.
“Say that again,” he demands, a grin spreading over his face.
“I’m in love with you, Sampo!” Gepard yells again, feeling his cheeks heating, “I’m in love with all your dumb–” Sampo lunged in, grabbing Gepard by the back of the neck and pulling them together, mashing their lips together. Gepard flails for a moment, before he realizes that Sampo is kissing him– Sampo is kissing him –and then he gives in, pulling Sampo in closer in turn.
When they finally break away, Sampo is still beaming, and Gepard is surprised to find that he too, is smiling.
“I’m in love with you too, Gepard,” Sampo says easily, but Gepard knows he means it by the way his eyes crinkle.
“What about Lucille?” Gepard asks, “isn’t she your girlfriend?”
“Oh, no!” Sampo laughs, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain. It was a joke! Just a joke! Lucille and I are just friends. The guards at the entrance were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t let her in. But they know who I am, so I just pretended!” He winks, and Gepard groans, burying his head in his hands. Sampo laughs, and presses his lips to Gepard’s hair.
“You are very cute,” Sampo declares, “come on, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Gepard asks, although he acquiesce, following Sampo as he takes his hand– they’re holding hands .
“To dinner!” Sampo says brightly, “After that beautiful love declaration, I have to do something equally as romantic.”
“What about Taylor and Tyler?” Gepard asks.
“Oh, I’m sure they will be alright without me,” Sampo says, “I have more important things to do now! I know they will understand.”
Gepard scoffs, but he can’t help but smile, and lean into Sampo, the way he had seen Lucille Kafka do earlier at the ball, the way that had filled him with jealousy. And Sampo? Sampo just smiles, and squeezes Gepard’s hand.
–
Coast is clear. Sampo texts surreptitiously later at dinner, while Gepard (adorably!) squints at the menu.
Thanks, cutie , Kafka texts back, and we left you a little something extra back at your place as an extra thank you for your help.
Aww, you shouldn’t have! Let me know next time you guys are back on planet. I’d love to hang out again!
You sure your new boyfriend won’t get jealous? He was looking super intense earlier. Silver Wolf interjects into the conversation.
Oh, I’m counting on it, Sampo writes back, maybe next time he’ll propose!