Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t think this is gonna work.”

Gepard knew the words were coming, but the part of him that feared rejection still felt hurt. He hadn’t even wanted to go on this date, but he had gone along with it for the sake of his parents. His father had long since given up on Serval giving the Landaus an heir, so that particular duty had fallen on Gepard’s shoulders.

He sighed and thanked the woman for her time. Her name was Elena, and while she was beautiful, she was right. It wouldn’t work out between them. She had seemed uncomfortable at worst, and disinterested at best during the entire blind date. Gepard supposed he wasn’t exactly much better.

He had better things to do than go on blind date after blind date, each one set up by his parents in the hopes of arranging a marriage. Gepard had tried to talk them out of this, but he had only been met with a scoff and a flippant declaration of how he couldn’t he trusted to look for a wife on his own.

He didn’t want a wife. He wouldn’t have time for one even if he did. He would almost never be home, and no woman deserved that fate, especially if she loved Gepard. Hell, even if she didn’t, that would be terrible.

When he voiced his concerns to Serval after his disastrous date, she just shrugged. “Just don’t go along with it,” she said with a stern look. “You don’t have to do everything Father says, Geppie. You’re a grown man.” Her expression was hard, but her eyes were sympathetic. She of all people knew full well how this pressure felt.

Lynx escaped the worst of it. As soon as she turned eighteen, she went off on her own, rarely spending any time in Belobog anymore. Gepard knew she had always had a bad case of wanderlust, but Lynx had openly admitted that a significant part of her desire to leave had stemmed from the pressures of being a Landau.

Gepard frowned at Serval, ignoring the pant of jealousy in his traitorous heart. “I can’t just refuse,” he insisted. “Someone has to carry on the family name, and you know how Lynx feels about that.”

Serval sighed and rolled her eyes. “You sound like Dad,” she commented. Usually, when people said that, they meant it as a compliment. Gepard winced, knowing full well Serval did not intend it that way.

He crossed his arms uncomfortably. “I can’t just let our bloodline die,” he insisted. “Besides, I don’t want our parents to be disappointed.”

“They’re going to be disappointed no matter what.” Serval tapped her desk rhythmically with one hand. Gepard didn’t recognize the beat. A new song, or just random noises?

Serval was right, and Gepard knew that. That didn’t mean he enjoyed hearing it, though. He uncrossed his arms and ran his hand down his face. His father always found new things to nitpick. New rules that Gepard was breaking, even though he hadn’t even known they existed. He loved his parents more than anything, but sometimes, it was hard to be their son.

Gepard looked at Serval defeatedly. “What am I supposed to do,” he asked, suddenly exhausted. “They won’t leave me alone, and it’s cutting into my work.”

He had not been called out of work to deal with his parents, but they often set up dates during the little free time he had. It made him more anxious, and as a result, he was unable to sleep. He was falling asleep at his desk and slipping up at work, and still his parents expected him to do everything perfectly. After all, he was a Landau, and Landaus can handle any challenge.

”It’s your own fault for making this difficult,” Gepard’s father had chided. ”If you would make more of an effort to get along with people, you would be married already.”

Gepard did try to get along with people. In fact, he spent a good part of his day trying to figure out a script to say to his weekly blind date, preparing for every question she could ask. He practiced facial expressions in the mirror, and did his best to cover up the bags under his eyes. He did everything he could think of, and still, he was always the one to get turned down. Elena was just the latest in a long string of awful dates.

Serval was thinking, her lips pursed and her head tilted. She continued to tap her desk, even as she opened her mouth to speak. “I could try to find someone to pretend to date you,” she said almost flippantly. “It sounds terrible, but it can’t be worse than what Dad has you doing.”

Gepard almost laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion. “That would never work,” he said, shaking his head. “Who wants to pretend to have a relationship?”

“I know lots of people who are desperate enough.” Serval caught herself, backpedaling quickly. “Not that I’d find you someone desperate. I just mean that people would be willing to do it if you pay them.”

Gepard stared at his sister, appalled. “I am not paying someone to date me!” The red-hot shame of a hypothetical scandal crept into his cheeks. “That’s… that’s so inappropriate! And it would feel like I’m taking advantage of someone!”

Serval rolled her eyes. “It’s not taking advantage if they’re willing. They’re getting something out of it too.” Her previously lighthearted tone was now deadly serious, like she had just made up her mind that this was a good idea. And when Serval had a good idea, she did not back down.

Gepard shook his head violently. “That’s entirely out of the question,” he said firmly. “I couldn’t pull it off even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. You’re a Landau,” Serval teased. Her earrings glinted in the low light of her workshop as she tilted her head. “When we want to do something, we do it. That applies to acting.”

“I’m not a good actor, and you know it.” Besides, even if Gepard had been a good actor, there was no guarantee that his potential fake partner would be. He would need someone who was convincing, and someone that would be able to pretend without there being a risk of actual feelings getting involved. Not to mention, it had to be someone Gepard’s parents didn’t know well, so they wouldn’t get suspicious.

Gepard blinked rapidly, frowning. He wasn’t seriously considering this, was he? He shook his head again to clear it. “I can’t just… pay someone like they’re an escort.” The thought of it only served to deepen his embarrassed blush. He didn’t like thinking of other people like that— like they were something to be bought.

Serval’s lips twitched into an amused smile. “I’m not buying you a prostitute, Gepard,” she said with a small snort that grew into a chuckle as Gepard covered his face in embarrassment. “I’m asking a friend to do my little brother a favor. And sex work isn’t a bad thing—“

“Can we stop talking about this?” Gepard felt like he was going to shatter into hundreds of pieces if this conversation continued. He rubbed his face and looked up, pleading silently. Serval held up her hands in mock defense.

“Look,” she said softly, “you don’t even have to fake date for very long. It’s just to get our parents off your back so you can get some rest. You look like shit.” Serval gestured to all of Gepard, looking him in the eye pointedly. The Captain knew he looked awful, but he had hoped it wouldn’t be so noticeable today. Maybe that had been what scared Elena off.

The idea of peace and quiet was more appealing than Gepard would have liked to admit. Being able to pretend with someone, with no obligations, actually did sound nice when he stopped to think about it. Serval was a good judge of character, and she would never put Gepard’s job at risk…

Gepard sighed heavily, pushing his bangs away from his face. “Fine,” he said defeatedly. “Who did you have in mind?”

——————

Gepard regretted talking to Serval the instant she told him who she was thinking of. He protested loudly, asking if his sister had entirely lost her mind. It wasn’t like her to suggest something so outlandish, so scandalous.

“He’s perfect,” Serval had argued. “He’s a good actor, easily bought, and he can be charming if he tries. I’ve known him for a while now, and even though he’s not exactly trustworthy, I know exactly how to keep him in line.” She’d paused. “Plus, he can cross-dress really well. It’s kinda scary.”

Gepard did not trust who his sister had suggested, but he did trust Serval. That was why, after several hours of convincing, he found himself standing outside a nondescript apartment building, anxiously waiting for Sampo Koski to open the door and let him in.

This was a ridiculously stupid idea. Sampo probably didn’t even live here, and the address he had texted Serval was a dud. Worst case scenario, it was a trap, and Gepard would have his throat cut the second he stepped into the building. Sampo wasn’t one to kill, or at least he hadn’t killed anyone while Gepard had known him, but he was far from the safe, reliable person he had expected Serval to choose.

When the door opened, Gepard half expected a stranger, or a knife at his throat. Instead, Sampo stood there, eyebrows raised as he looked Gepard up and down tensely.

“Woooow,” Sampo said, drawing out each letter. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” His words dripped with false surprise, and the slimy smile he wore made Gepard’s skin crawl.

Gepard inhaled deeply, bracing himself. “Just let me in,” he huffed. “Let’s get this over with.” He couldn’t believe he was going to go through with this. A Landau, in the same room with a criminal? Without trying to arrest or report him? The press would be ruthless if they found out.

Sampo obliged, bowing exaggeratedly as Gepard entered the apartment. It seemed that he was right about it being a dud after all. The place was sparsely furnished, and it looked like it was newly rented. Of course Sampo would never give anyone his actual address. He would have to be stupid to do so.

Gepard turned as the door clicked shut. Sampo was standing nearby, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. Gepard took the other man in slowly, watching for any signs of running or attacking. Sampo did neither. Instead, he just stood there, looking Gepard up and down with half-lidded, downturned eyes.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Sampo drawled smugly. “Captain Landau, not trying to arrest me? Pinch me, I must be dreaming!” He laid the back of his hand across his forehead, dramatically pretending to swoon. His over-the-top mannerisms made Gepard’s blood boil, but the blond forced himself to swallow his pride.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” Gepard said harshly, narrowing his eyes. “Stop messing around.”

“D’aw, let me savor this, Geppie!” Sampo batted his eyelashes with a grin. “It’s not every day you get an offer to date the Captain Landau!”

Gepard bristled. “It isn’t real,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare try anything, or—“

“Now, now, Gep, I never said I would agree to said offer.”

Gepard stopped in his tracks, staring at Sampo incredulously. The criminal was still smiling, but it was sharper now. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sampo was shrewd, but he often played dumb, so it was always off-putting to see him act as intelligent as he really was.

“What… do you mean?” Gepard asked cautiously, frowning. “Serval said—“

“If she communicated properly,” Sampo cut in, “she said I agreed to talk about the offer. Sampo Koski doesn’t just give out his services for free, and I always make sure I’m not given the short end of the stick.”

Sampo was enjoying this, relishing in Gepard’s anxiety and anger. That much was clear with the way he laughed. He was entirely in control, and both of them knew it. Gepard had to admit, though, he could see Serval’s logic. After all, who else would jump at the opportunity to see Gepard squirm?

Gepard trusted his sister. He would continue to do so, even if Serval had picked a horrible, sleazy criminal. She had her reasons, and it wasn’t like Gepard could think of anyone better. He had few friends, most of whom openly only loved women. None of them were good actors, either.

With a frustrated groan, Gepard internally agreed to play Sampo’s game. “What do you want,” he asked with a scowl. “I am willing to pay you in shield or credits.”

Sampo’s grin widened, exposing his gums and pointed canines, which were slightly longer than most people’s should be. “How much,” he asked, visibly intrigued. He rubbed his hands together, much like how a fly would. Gepard grimaced.

“One hundred thousand credits.” It seemed like a reasonable number, since the fake relationship would only last a month or two, and it wasn’t a labor-intensive job. Gepard and Sampo would be able to live their separate lives, with the exception of meeting Gepard’s parents and attending a few public events together.

Sampo whistled. “No can do, buddy,” he said. He ignored Gepard’s indignant look and leaned against the door. “I’ll need to dress as a woman for this, since your parents are assholes about queer folk.” Gepard opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off again. “And while I don’t have a problem with that, wig maintenance is expensive. Not to mention, my reputation is at stake as much as yours is!”

Sampo pushed away from the door and began to pace. “If my clients find out I’m rubbing elbows with you, I’ll be in hot water!” Sampo gestured wildly as he spoke, practically miming out his words. Gepard watched, following Sampo’s hands with his eyes.

“My acting fees are rather steep,” Sampo continued, “but I’m willing to give you the friends and family discount. That, combined with clothes, makeup, and wig maintenance, comes out to…” He made a big show of counting on his fingers, pushing his breath out through his teeth. “…four hundred thousand credits.”

Gepard’s eyes widened so much they hurt. “That’s—“ He shook his head. “That’s absurd!”

“Take it or leave it.” Sampo shrugged, his expression infuriatingly self-satisfied. “You need this more than I do, though, so I suggest you take it if you want to get any rest. You look like you got punched in the face.” Sampo gestured to Gepard’s eyes, or rather, the large eye bags underneath them. Anxiety really did not help his already terrible sleep schedule.

Gepard resisted the urge to scream in frustration. Instead, he inhaled slowly, then exhaled in a quiet rush of air. “Two hundred thousand,” he said firmly.

Sampo raised his eyebrows, chuckling amusedly. “Haggling, are we?” He turned to face Gepard fully, his movements finally stilling. “Alright, I’ll bite. Two hundred fifty.”

“Two twenty-five.”

“Hmm… okay.” Sampo held up his hand before Gepard could feel any relief. “Not done yet, Gep. Two twenty-five, and you pay for all the fake dates.”

“We don’t need to go on fake dates.”

“We do if we want to be convincing.” Sampo walked over to Gepard quickly, closing the distance between them until he was only a couple of feet away. Gepard instinctively held up his hands to defend himself, only to be laughed at.

“I won’t bite, Geppie.” Sampo paused. “Unless you want me to.” Ignoring Gepard’s flustered sputtering, Sampo clapped his hands together once. “Oh, you also have to promise not to arrest me once this is all over. For at least a few weeks.”

Gepard bit his lip. He shouldn’t let a criminal walk free for his own personal gain, but… well, his work performance was declining. A Captain out of commission was worse than a petty scam artist. It wasn’t like Sampo’s crimes were even particularly dangerous, just annoying. He was low priority compared to terrorists and murderers, so…

Sighing in defeat, Gepard held out his hand. “Fine,” he said quietly. With a grin, Sampo shook Gepard’s hand firmly and enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically, really, shaking so hard Gepard’s hand tingled when he pulled away. The blond shook it out, grimacing.

Sampo giggled smugly. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” he said, practically vibrating with the laughter he was visibly holding back. Gepard sighed. This was going to go very, very poorly.

Chapter Text

Gepard sighed and adjusted his shirt, glancing around nervously. Walking around out of uniform made him more anxious than it really should have. This was the same apartment building as before, in an upper middle class neighborhood that was filled with people. It wasn’t like he could be snuck up on in the middle of the day like this, but waiting for Sampo didn’t exactly help the matter.

”We have to make it look realistic,” Sampo had insisted. ”That means public appearances, fake dates, and a good, slow build.”

Gepard had to admit, Sampo was a very good planner. He clearly had experience with relationships, so he took the lead. He gave Gepard a rundown on how boyfriends should act, and what times were strategically best for public appearances.

It was almost disturbing, really, how methodical Sampo was. He’d had an entire notepad of date ideas and ideal times written down within an hour, and he seemed almost eager to pretend to date Gepard. Like he had been waiting for this opportunity for years.

Yeah, right, Gepard thought to himself as he checked his watch. He’s probably just excited to mess with me. Sampo had always taken every chance he got to get under Gepard’s skin. Innuendos, obvious flirting, and pigtail-pulling were the norm. For a chronic flirt and criminal, this was a golden opportunity.

Though, Sampo certainly seemed to be taking his time getting ready. How long could it take to put on a wig? Gepard had seen Sampo’s wig of choice, and he knew the name the man had chosen as a fake one— Brughel Poisson— but he didn’t really know how Sampo would look with it on. He couldn’t imagine Sampo was so good at disguises, he would be unrecognizable. Or that it would take this long to put together.

Gepard was getting odd glances from the people milling about. It was rare to see him off-duty, and especially rare for him to be visiting someone. He knew as much from the whispers that he often caught from his fellow guards when they thought he couldn’t hear. Lonely, they had called him.

At least this fake dating scenario would abolish that rumor. Gepard was far from lonely. He just liked being by himself more often than not, and there was nothing wrong with that. Even if the empty halls of the family home made him uncomfortable most of the time.

Impatient, Gepard lifted his hand to knock again. Before his knuckles made contact with the door, though, it swung open, revealing a familiar face.

Except, it wasn’t quite familiar after all. Gepard blinked in surprise at the sight before him. It was Sampo, yes, but Gepard wouldn’t have recognized him if it wasn’t for his bright green eyes. Everything else was the spitting image of a modern, semi-wealthy woman, albeit a tall one.

Sampo had contoured his face to look slightly softer, and he was clearly wearing false eyelashes. His broad shoulders were covered by a faux fur shawl, and he wore a frilly, white button-up shirt. Black curls tumbled over his shoulders and down to his upper back. His waist was cinched by a corseted black skirt. Black tights completed the look, and when Sampo made his way down the front steps of the apartment, Gepard had to look up ever so slightly. Sampo was wearing high heels.

A lipstick-lined grin adorned Sampo’s face. “Hey,” he said, his voice jarringly high-pitched and feminine. “Sorry to keep you waiting!” Sampo reached into a purse that hung by his left hip, drawing out cat-eye sunglasses that he placed over his eyes. He was practically indistinguishable from any other woman now.

Gepard blinked once, then shook his head. “You…” He looked Sampo up and down again, trying to rid himself of his shock. “How did you…”

“How did I what?” Sampo was still smiling, the picture of innocence. He peered over his sunglasses, giving Gepard a warning glance. Not here, he seemed to say. Gepard swallowed, ignoring the blush creeping up his neck, and shook his head.

“N-nothing.” He winced, hating how much he stammered. “Let’s go.” He briefly debated whether he should hold Sampo’s hand or not, then decided against it, stuffing his hands into his pockets and beginning to walk.

He was still disoriented by Sampo’s impressive disguise. It was no wonder the man was so hard to catch. Even his walk was different, leading less with his hips and more with his legs. It was downright scary, if Gepard was being honest.

He had to wonder how many times Sampo had slipped right under his nose. That thought lead him to another— why did Sampo operate as himself at all? If he could disguise himself so effectively, why bother sneaking around?

As they walked, Gepard pondered these questions. Sampo was an enigma, for sure, but Gepard had never really wanted to dig deeper than that before. All he needed to know were Sampo’s crimes and where he was going to be. Sure, Gepard had wondered why Sampo had turned to a life of crime in the first place— that was only natural— but he now wondered about the methods behind those crimes.

He supposed he would have a lot of time to figure that out. A couple of months of fake dating seemed like an eternity now, and Gepard internally winced at the thought. He would have to be careful not to let Sampo near anything important, and he wouldn’t be able to properly do his job when he was sent to pursue the man’s latest scheme.

Gepard was not going to survive this, was he?

The location of their first “date” was a small, quaint café a couple of blocks away from Sampo’s apartment. Gepard still doubted Sampo really lived there, but it was a convenient place to meet. The café was small enough to not be crowded, but large enough that a good amount of people would see the two of them out together. This was ideal, Sampo insisted.

Gepard didn’t like the idea of jumping right into being public, but Sampo said that it would get the job done faster. It would be impossible to avoid gossip if a Landau was dating someone new, so to look less suspicious, “Brughel Poisson” couldn’t just show up out of nowhere. They had to plant the seed first.

Thankfully, it seemed that the dates wouldn’t intrude on Gepard’s work day much. He was already sleeping easier now that there was a plan, and all they had to do was spend a couple of hours together at a time. It would be easy, especially since Bronya was more than happy to give Gepard more breaks. She claimed it was good for him, and as much as he hated to admit it, she seemed to be right.

At the café, Gepard and Sampo sat across from one another in a corner booth. It was secluded enough to talk to each other without anyone listening in. When they were seated, Sampo removed his sunglasses and lowered his voice to a whisper, dropping it to its normal pitch.

“It’s fine to be nervous on first dates, Gepard,” Sampo said with a grin, “but you can’t just gape at a lady in public. It’s rude.”

Gepard felt his cheeks warm. “You’re not a lady,” he muttered. “Besides, you could’ve warned me that you’d look like… this.” He deliberately looked away from Sampo as he gestured, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He heard a low chuckle from the other side of the booth.

“Like what?” Sampo paused to order a hot latte with extra sugar when the waiter came by. Gepard stuck with his usual black coffee. He didn’t have the time or energy to add extra flavors of sweetener in the morning, so he had taken a liking to the bitterness. It was an acquired taste, to be sure, so he couldn’t judge Sampo for ordering what was practically a dessert in a cup.

When the waiter left, Sampo turned back to Gepard with an amused look. “You didn’t think my disguise would be this good?” Gepard nodded, and Sampo puffed out his cheeks in a fake pout. “I’m hurt,” he bemoaned quietly. “I take my jobs seriously, Gep. Two hundred and twenty-five thousand credits is no small number, and I’ll be damned if I don’t pull my weight.”

Gepard didn’t want to think about Sampo’s “jobs,” fearing the guilt of selfishly neglecting his own, so he just sighed. “You… you’re impossible.”

“Nah. I’m just good at what I do. Besides, this skirt looks good on me.”

He wasn’t wrong, unfortunately. Even Gepard knew Sampo made a very beautiful woman. He refused to think of it that way, though, as it was entirely inappropriate. Sampo seemed to take his silence as agreement, however, and he laughed.

“You’re so cute,” Sampo said with half-lidded eyes. Despite himself, and despite his scowl, Gepard found himself blushing furiously. He didn’t like being caught off-guard, and Sampo was far too good at that.

Gepard sighed and tried to regain his composure. “You don’t need to do that when we’re alone,” he huffed. “Just act normal, please.” The waiter still hadn’t come back with their drinks yet, and the café was relatively empty. The few people there were giving Gepard a curious side-eye, but they couldn’t hear the conversation taking place.

Sampo grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Gepard didn’t have time to think about why that might be before Sampo spoke. “I am acting normal,” he teased. “Besides, you’re an easy target. Can’t blame a guy for having fun, can you?”

Gepard absolutely could blame Sampo, but he gave up with a soft groan. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and the waiter was coming over holding two cups of coffee. He shot his fake date a quick glare, receiving a mimed kiss in return. To an outsider, they would look like they were flirting with each other. To Gepard, it just made him angry.

He took his coffee with a sigh. He could do this, he told himself. He just had to get through it until his parents were satisfied.

——————

Sampo kept insisting that they have dates in public. There was no reason to see each other outside of that, but Gepard quickly found that he kept seeing Sampo around anyway. There were no new reports of scams, and even Lynx hadn’t seen the “Belobog Snowman” recently, yet Sampo seemed to be everywhere.

Waving hello on the streets before sprinting away from the guards on patrol. Flashes of Sampo’s tailcoat disappearing around corners when Gepard turned around. Doodles of roses on Sampo’s wanted posters, even out on the snow plains, with no footprints leading to or away from the area.

Gepard was convinced that Sampo was toying with him. Why else would he be following Gepard around, yet not visibly committing any crimes? Much to Gepard’s chagrin, he had clearly captured the con man’s interest, and he was now being used as cheap entertainment.

“Why are you following me?” Gepard asked while walking through the administrative district next to a disguised Sampo. His voice was quiet, and he glanced around to check if anyone was watching or listening in.

“Either look forward or at me, Gep.” Sampo nudged Gepard’s side. “You look suspicious.” After a moment of silence, he continued. “And I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cut the bullshit, Koski.” Gepard trained his eyes ahead, frowning in irritation. He got another jab to the side, light enough that he could barely feel it through his coat.

“Now you look constipated.”

“Don’t try to distract me.” Gepard relaxed his face, taking a deep breath. Nobody would ever suspect that he of all people was collaborating with a known criminal, but it was still difficult to keep calm on these fake dates.

Sampo snorted under his breath. “I’m giving you acting tips,” he insisted. “Anyway, though, I’m not following you. I’m gathering information. You just happen to be there.”

Gepard rolled his eyes. “Doodling on wanted posters is gathering information now?”

“Yep.” Sampo stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. It was rather fashionable, but Gepard didn’t know how he had gotten a woman’s coat in his size with his broad shoulders. It could have been personally tailored, but could Sampo afford that?

Gepard sighed. “You’re going to get arrested, you know. I can’t protect you from people you don’t have a deal with.” Really, even people Sampo did have a deal with. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to end up in a great deal of trouble because he got in over his head with the wrong people.

“They can’t arrest me if I’m not doing anything wrong!” Sampo leaned into Gepard and grabbed his arm, like he was seeking out warmth. Gepard resisted the urge to pull away, ignoring the heat that bloomed in his cheeks. It was just for show, he told himself.

“They absolutely can,” Gepard pointed out. “Arrest warrants don’t just go away.”

“Aw, boo. You’re no fun.” Sampo batted his eyelashes, pouting exaggeratedly. Gepard huffed and looked away. He tried not to pay attention to the laugh that threatened to escape his lips.

Sampo was not a friend, Gepard reminded himself. This arrangement was for convenience only, and he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He could only hope that Sampo would prove to be reliable when faced with his parents.

Chapter Text

Gepard had known that gossip about his new “girlfriend” would get around, but he hadn’t anticipated how quickly it would reach his family. One week into his arrangement with Sampo, Serval was already teasing him in her workshop.

“So I see things are going well,” she said with a grin, pushing her glasses up her nose as she leaned forward. Gepard’s face flushed and he rolled his eyes.

“He’s a good actor,” he admitted reluctantly. “I still feel weird about it, though.” He considered that an understatement, really. Annoyance had evolved into full-blown dread whenever Sampo came by camp or his office. He rarely actually saw the man outside of the arrangement anymore— it seemed he was putting more effort into being stealthy now that Gepard had pointed it out— but traces of him were obvious.

Most notable was the single red rose that was left on top of Gepard’s desk almost every day. The lower-ranked soldiers had found out, and rumors were circulating through the barracks. By then, Gepard was sure the tabloids were already churning out paper after paper about this “secret admirer” and who she might be.

At least Gepard didn’t have to lie to Serval. She wouldn’t be too nosy, since she already knew what was going on and could come to her own conclusions about what the fake relationship was like. Despite that, however, she still seemed deeply interested in hearing Gepard’s side of things.

“At least he isn’t a stranger,” Serval commented as she tinkered with an old radio. “And he’ll behave. I’ll make sure of it.” Her voice took on a harsher tone at that, though it disappeared as soon as Gepard noticed it. He stared at his sister, baffled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Serval cursed under her breath as she dropped something small and shiny. “Can you get that for me?” Gepard obliged, quietly turning over recent events in his head.

Sampo really was putting more effort into the arrangement than necessary. His intention seemed to be to rile Gepard up, and while it was working, Gepard couldn’t fathom the other man taking that much time out of his day for it. Surely Sampo had more important things to do.

Handing over the loose screw to Serval, Gepard straightened up. “He hasn’t been causing that much trouble,” he admitted. “Aside from apparently following me everywhere.” That was a problem in and of itself, but Gepard could handle that.

Serval rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t convince him to stop doing that. He’s a complete freak.” She had been the one to reach out to Sampo initially, but Gepard hadn’t realized just how much the two had talked. He frowned.

“I thought you two weren’t talking outside of business anymore,” Gepard said curiously. After he had broken the news to Serval that her sort-of-friend was a criminal years ago, the two had cut ties— or so he thought.

Serval shrugged. “He’s like a really persistent mold,” she said with a smile. “Impossible to get rid of once he starts growing on you.” Gepard chuckled, and the two fell into comfortable silence.

The silence did not last long, unfortunately. Gepard heard the approaching footsteps first, having been trained to listen for the slightest sound of movement in the snow. Someone was running up to Serval’s workshop, and it wasn’t long before the door swung open with a loud bang.

“GEPARD!” Standing in the doorway was the youngest Landau, Lynx, her usual hat balled up in her hand. Her face was set in a determined expression, the same one she got when she was leaving for another expedition.

In fact, she should have been on an expedition right then. Gepard blinked in surprise, turning to meet Serval’s gaze briefly before turning back to his younger sister, panic bubbling in his gut. If Lynx was back early, there must have been an emergency.

“What happened,” Gepard and Serval asked in unison, both voices tense. Lynx huffed and crossed her arms, glaring at Gepard sternly.

“What happened,” Lynx said, “is that you apparently got a girlfriend, and you neglected to tell me!”

Gepard should have felt relief upon learning his sister was alright, but his dread only worsened. “How did you—“ His face flushed. “He— she’s not my—“

“Don’t lie to me.” Lynx pulled out her phone and showed it to Gepard rather aggressively, practically shoving it into his face. On the screen, an article had been pulled up. Gepard recognized it as from a popular tabloid Pela often left physical copies of around the office, and his stomach sank.

Captain Landau and His New Sweetheart? the title read. A blurry picture showed him walking arm in arm with Sampo, his wig concealing most of his face. Gepard buried his face in his hands and wished he could disappear through the ground.

He hadn’t wanted to face his family with his fake relationship yet. He had expected Lynx to be one of the last to know, since she was usually so determined to stay as far away from people as possible. Gepard should have guessed Pela would spread the gossip to her.

Lynx had a triumphant look on her face. “So I was right!” She quickly composed herself, pursing her lips and glaring again. “Who’s that woman you’re with? She doesn’t seem like your type.”

Gepard groaned and turned to Serval, silently pleading for help. She just covered her mouth, poorly concealing her laughter. Gepard shot her a quick glare, then turned back to Lynx.

“First of all,” he sighed, “she’s not… we aren’t… official.” He’d heard that phrase being said before— mostly on the television, if he was being honest. He and Lynx were both what most called antisocial, so he didn’t know much about how people generally talked about relationships.

“Second of all,” Gepard continued, “what do you mean, not my type?” He didn’t think he had a type, let alone enough of one for dating Brughel Poisson to seem strange.

Lynx blinked owlishly. “You’re gay.”

She said it so bluntly, it took Gepard a moment to process it. When he did, he sputtered, his face turning red as Serval finally burst into laughter.

“Wh— Lynx!” Gepard couldn’t fathom where his sister had gotten that idea. Sure, he had never had a girlfriend, but he had never had a boyfriend either. Men were attractive, sure, but women could be too. Not that he was looking.

Lynx shrugged. “You’ve got the vibe.” She did not seem to intend to elaborate, clearly waiting for an explanation that satisfied her curiosity. She paid no mind to Serval, who was wiping tears from her eyes behind her desk.

“I’m gonna be honest Geppie,” Serval said through snorts. “I thought you were gay too.”

That fact was more than a little alarming, considering just who Serval had set Gepard up with, but the Captain refused to unpack that. He didn’t want to think about the implications or whether Serval had an ulterior motive. He banished the idea, trying to focus on Lynx.

“I’m…” He took a deep breath, trying to think of something convincing. “I’m not sure. Brughel is… nice… and I like her. So I guess we’re seeing where it goes.” He silently thanked Qlipoth that Sampo wasn’t there, or he would never live that lie down.

Lynx squinted, tilting her head skeptically. She hummed, deep in thought. After a moment, she shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” she said plainly. “I still say you’re gay.” With that, she turned and marched back towards the door. She clearly had no intention of staying when her questions had been answered. Gepard knew she was busy, but he still hated seeing her leave so quickly.

The siblings exchanged quick goodbyes, and soon, Gepard and Serval were alone again. Serval was still grinning smugly, and Gepard felt his face heat up once more.

“Thanks for backing me up,” he mumbled sarcastically. “You could have at least corroborated my story.”

“It’s less fun that way,” Serval teased. Her smile softened, and her voice took on a more sincere tone. “Besides,” she said, “there’s no harm done. Lynx doesn’t actually care that much, at least not enough to gossip.”

“…Right,” Gepard breathed, relaxing slightly. Lynx would be off to the snow plains again, and Pela would be the only person she would end up talking to. She barely talked to their parents anymore, so there was still time before they started demanding to meet Sampo. Or rather, Brughel.

Gepard looked at the clock in Serval’s workshop and pressed his lips together into a thin line. It was almost seven. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Serval nodded. “Have fun on your daaate,” she sang, waggling her eyebrows. As Gepard opened the door, he rolled his eyes. Just as he was stepping outside, Serval added: “Make sure to use protection!”

“Serval!”

Serval’s laughter followed Gepard as he stomped off, ears burning with embarrassment and disgust. He really hated his older sister sometimes.

——————

Despite Serval’s teasing, today’s meeting wasn’t actually a fake date. Gepard and Sampo were holed up in the latter’s apartment, discussing plans for the next week. Sampo had a cork board covered in notes that took up half of the living room wall. It was absurd, but it was helpful, even if the man’s dedication was alarming.

Gepard frowned at a photograph of a bouquet of red roses. “Would you stop leaving those on my desk,” he said, pointing at the picture. “It’s excessive.”

Sampo let out a fake gasp. “You would rebuff your maiden’s affections?” He lifted his hand to his forehead and swooned. “I’m hurt…”

“You’re having too much fun with this.” Gepard crossed his arms. Sampo smiled at him so widely, his gums showed. Gepard didn’t like being looked at like this— like he was some kind of joke.

“Ain’t no point in living if you’re not having fun!” Sampo leaned forward, his eyes half-lifded. “But fine. Your wish is my command, mon capitaine! No more roses on your desk.”

Sampo’s phrasing bothered Gepard, but he decided not to dwell on it. He had more important things to worry about, such as his family.

He sighed and braced himself for what he was going to say. “Lynx knows,” he muttered, his face warming at the thought of his earlier conversation and his sister’s accusations. “She confronted me today.”

There was a beat of silence. Sampo was still grinning, but it seemed more surprised than genuine now. “Heh, what?” He straightened his posture, suddenly serious. “How much does she know?”

“Not everything. Just… Brughel.” Gepard closed his eyes and ran his gloved hand down his face. He was still in-uniform, and his hand was starting to sweat in Sampo’s surprisingly well-heated apartment.

Sampo gave a relieved laugh that still reeked of insincerity. “Well why didn’t you lead with that?” He shuddered. “Serval’s scary enough. I can’t imagine what little Lynxy would be capable of if she found out about me.”

Lynx? Scary? Gepard had to laugh. “She’s harmless,” he said, amused. “What about an eighteen-year-old could be scary?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Sampo visibly cringed. What had Serval said to him that struck the fear of Landau women into his heart? Gepard hoped Sampo wouldn’t act this way around his mother.

Now it was Gepard’s turn to shudder. “We do need to talk about meeting the rest of my family,” he said reluctantly. “I’m… not sure we have much longer before they find out, and they’ll want to meet you. As well as your family, which…”

Gepard paused. He had never thought about Sampo’s family before. He had to have one— everyone came from somewhere— but he had never seen anyone remotely similar to Sampo in Belobog. The closest thing was Seele, but she didn’t have any siblings, as far as Gepard knew.

This would be an issue. If Sampo had no family, Gepard’s parents would never approve. They needed approval for at least a few weeks in order for this to work, and the Landaus were… picky, to say the least. They’d also run a background check, which was a whole other issue. Did Brughel Poisson exist legally? Would Gepard be caught in a scandal with one of Belobog’s most wanted?

“Yoo-hoo! Earth to Gepard!” Sampo’s hand waving in front of his face snapped Gepard out of his anxiety-ridden daze. The green-eyed man looked positively tickled pink by Gepard’s worry, much to the Captain’s chagrin.

“Don’t worry so much, buddy,” Sampo said, moving closer until he had an arm around Gepard’s shoulder. “I’m good at this kinda thing. Trust me.” He winked, and Gepard blushed fiercely. The criminal was far, far too close, yet… for some reason, Gepard did not push him away.

Gepard averted his eyes. “You don’t get to ask for trust,” he mumbled, his voice quieter than he would have liked. “But fine. Just don’t make them hate you.”

“I’m great with people,” Sampo said, puffing out his chest and laughing. “They don’t call me Sampo ‘Charmer’ Koski for nothing!” Gepard was one hundred percent certain that absolutely nobody called him that. “I’ll just dazzle them with my wit and incredible personality, and—“

“No.” Gepard finally found the strength to push himself away, standing up and shaking his head to clear it. “You have to act like someone they’d like. Someone I would like.”

Sampo did not respond right away. Gepard frowned, watching as Sampo grinned. The con man said nothing, his eyes vacant as he smiled. He looked like a glitched video game character, stuck in his idle animations or locked into an odd expression.

Unnerving didn’t even begin to describe it. Those jade green eyes were wide, not a single light reflecting off of them. It was just the angle Sampo was sitting at, but it was so eerie, Gepard felt himself flinch when the man finally moved again.

Sampo laughed. One short, sharp HA that hurt Gepard’s ears. “That’s a good one,” he said, like nothing had happened at all. “Don’t you worry, friend. I’ll have your parents begging you to marry me in no time.”

The last sentence was said with such finality, Gepard didn’t think it would be appropriate to respond out loud. He just nodded, frowning deeper. Sampo carried on through the rest of their meeting normally, his lips turned up into a smug, tearing grin as usual. Everything about him seemed fine.

Still, thinking about that blank expression on Sampo’s face, Gepard couldn’t help but feel like he had said something wrong.

Chapter Text

Nothing seemed to be wrong with Sampo lately, Gepard noticed. In fact, nothing had been wrong since their odd meeting the week before. As far as the blond could tell, Sampo was perfectly fine.

Somehow, that was even more disturbing than Sampo’s odd reaction to Gepard’s words. Still, Gepard tried his best to move on and accept things for what they appeared to be. Things were going great, at least with Brughel, and before Gepard knew it, he was actually looking forward to their “dates.”

He had to admit, it was nice to take a break. Even if it was with Sampo, of all people. He seemed to have taken Gepard’s words to heart, toning down his teasing. He still left flowers on Gepard’s desk— ”You never said I couldn’t leave ball peonies, Gep!”— but he didn’t make as many suggestive remarks.

This was why, when the Landau parents finally called, Gepard found himself slightly more relaxed as he answered the phone.

”Hello, son.” Lionel Landau was curt and harsh, as always. Gepard gestured for Pela to be quiet, and the young woman nodded. They were going over reports of the Fragmentum’s retreat, but they technically weren’t on the clock. Gepard couldn’t blame his father for calling.

“Hello, Father,” Gepard replied. Pela visibly grimaced before turning away quickly, trying to hide her expression. Gepard ignored her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

”I’m calling to ask you about certain… rumors,” Lionel said. ”Your mother and I are concerned about the gossip that has been rather abundant lately.”

Gepard sighed and braced himself, trying to sound natural. Even if he was feeling more comfortable about pretending to date Brughel, he knew he wasn’t the best liar. Sampo, for what it was worth, had been giving him impromptu acting lessons on each date. He hoped it was enough.

“Yes,” he said with a forced laugh, “the tabloids have been eager. What do you want to know?” He had nothing to hide, he told himself. Nothing other than the fact that he was now in cahoots with a known criminal. Surely, he would be fine.

Lionel gave a quiet harumph. “So you aren’t going to hide it from me,” he said, clear disdain in his voice, as if he had expected Gepard to lie.

“Why would I hide anything?” Gepard tried to conceal the hurt he felt. Neither he nor his siblings ever intentionally lied to their parents. Except for Serval, sometimes, when she had snuck out as a teenager.

“Well, you didn’t seem too eager to share the news of your new friend with your mother and I.”

“I—“ Gepard took a deep breath. He gave Pela a pleading look, hoping she would take the hint and leave. She nodded quickly and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind her. Gepard sagged in relief. The rest of this conversation likely would not be pretty.

He gathered himself slowly, then turned his attention back to his father, who breathed impatiently on the other end of the phone. “I didn’t want to introduce her just yet,” he explained steadily. “I… really like her, and I thought meeting my parents would be moving too fast.”

He could practically hear Sampo’s voice in his ear. Nice one, Gep, he would say with a smirk. Who knew straight-laced Captian Landau had it in him?

Lionel scoffed. ”In my day, we met the parents first.” He paused. ”Who is she? I’ve never seen her or her family before, if she even has one.” He likely thought Brughel was from the Underworld, then, if he was bringing up the potential lack of a family this early on. Gepard still needed to work on that particular lie with Sampo.

Gepard pressed his lips into a firm line, then exhaled slowly. “Her name is Brughel Poisson,” he said, internally running through the list of bullet points he already had. “She’s an amateur journalist. A freelancer. I haven’t met her family yet, but we’re talking about it.”

”Hm. She doesn’t seem like the type of person you would want to run around with.” He spoke as if his mouth was full of poison. For once, Gepard knew exactly what was bothering him. He had always known his father had suspicions that he was gay, and it was no secret how much he despised the idea.

“Well, I do want to run around with her,” Gepard said, a little harsher than he had intended. He tried to calm himself quickly, unclenching his jaw. “She’s lovely, Father. You’ll like her, I promise.” Gepard hated making a promise that relied entirely on Sampo, but the man had proved reliable so far. If only because Gepard was paying him.

”I’ll be the judge of that, boy.” Gepard knew his father well enough to understand. It seemed he and Sampo wouldn’t be able to avoid a family meeting for any longer.

Gepard sighed defeatedly. “Understood,” he muttered. “I’ll talk to Brughel about her schedule.”

”Good. Now run along. And don’t wait several weeks before you contact me again this time.”

“…Goodbye, Father.”

Lionel hung up without saying goodbye. Gepard sat alone in silence for a moment. His earlier relaxed mood was gone, replaced by thick anxiety. Things were moving too quickly for his comfort, even though he had known deep down that this would happen sooner rather than later.

He ran his hand down his face. He was going to have to talk to Sampo. Now.

——————

After wrapping up with Pela, Gepard found himself speed-walking to Sampo’s apartment. It was past midnight, but as far as Gepard was concerned, this was an emergency. Sampo stayed up just as late as he did, anyway. Gepard had learned that after years of trying to figure out the man’s modus operandi.

He didn’t expect Sampo to be home, but he could at least check, and start searching from there. If he wasn’t at the apartment, he was most likely in the Underworld. It would take some effort to get there so late, but Gepard was willing to make that sacrifice.

As it turned out, however, he didn’t need to. Upon walking up to the apartment door, Gepard paused. The lights were off inside, as expected, but somewhere nearby, he could hear a voice. Sampo’s voice.

It wasn’t coming from inside of the apartment, Gepard realized quickly. Following the sound, he snuck quietly into the small alleyway to the left of the building.

If there was one thing Gepard knew, it was that Sampo whispering in a back alley was never good. It would only lead to trouble, and selfishly, Gepard hoped he was just overreacting. He did not want to deal with any Koski shenanigans. Not after his father.

Especially since Gepard couldn’t actually arrest Sampo until their deal was over. Gepard was a man of his word, unfortunately, and he didn’t intend to sell out his, for lack of a better phrase, partner in crime. Gepard swore he could feel his blood pressure rising as he got closer to Sampo’s voice and pressed against the wall to listen.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Gepard couldn’t see Sampo, as the other man was actually behind the building rather than in the side alley, but he could hear the tension in Sampo’s voice.

“Look,” Sampo was saying, “I get that you’re having fun, but I have my own things to worry about here!” He paused, then continued as if he was responding to someone. Is he on the phone? Gepard wondered.

“Don’t be an ass,” Sampo huffed. “Even fools like us worry, you know.” Gepard frowned at that. It was unlike Sampo to be self-deprecating. Calling himself a fool was rather out of character.

“Oh my bad, Miss ‘Never Takes It Off,’” Sampo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I forgot you have no concept of being normal. Have you ever heard of empathy?”

Another pause. “I had my reasons for leaving it behind, okay? And they’re none of your business. Just tell me where to meet you, and—“

Gepard shifted. He thought he had been quiet enough to escape notice, but Sampo cut himself off mid-sentence. “I’ll get back to you, Sparkle.” Before Gepard could leave, pretending he was never even there, a flash of blue and red appeared in front of him, silver arcing toward his throat.

Gepard acted quickly, his training taking over. Grabbing his attacker’s forearm, he redirected the swing of their knife. Narrow green eyes met his, and as quickly as Gepard had grabbed Sampo, he let go.

Sampo pulled his arm back and lowered his blade, his expression relaxing into one of shock. “Gepard?” He shook his head, fidgeting with his knife. He hadn’t sheathed it yet, and he looked like a cornered rabbit. His gaze flitted around, searching for an exit. “What, uh… what are you doing here so late?”

It was unnerving to see Sampo so anxious. Gepard had seen the man stammer and grovel in desperate attempts at trying to get out of his arrest, but all of that had always felt fake in a way Gepard couldn’t explain. This was genuine, as far as he could tell, and it did nothing to calm his own nerves.

Trying to still his pounding heart, Gepard took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you,” he explained feebly.

Sampo flicked his wrist, twirling his knife between his fingers. “Didn’t your momma teach you not to eavesdrop,” he asked with a tense smile. The reminder of Gepard’s parents made him wince.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” Gepard insisted. “I needed to talk to you, and…” He trailed off, his thoughts circling back to the conversation he had overheard. “Who’s Sparkle?”

“None of your business!” Sampo’s tone was lighthearted, and he was smiling, but something felt wrong about it. It wasn’t as bad as his blank stare, but it was equally as off-putting.

Gepard wanted to press, but he knew better by now. “Sparkle” sounded like a fake name, so they were likely a business associate, as Sampo would put it. It looked like Gepard had stumbled into a shady deal after all. Great.

He made a mental note to tell his soldiers about this encounter when the time period of the fake dating deal was over. It was, unfortunately, the best he could do.

He sighed. “Fine,” he said defeatedly. “Sorry.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it!” Sampo finally sheathed his blade, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, visibly trying to warm them up. “Now let’s go on inside, yeah? Prying eyes, prying ears.” He looked at Gepard pointedly, and the blond’s cheeks warmed. Sampo clearly wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

Inside the apartment, Sampo seemed entirely back to normal. He flicked his bangs away from his face— rather pointlessly, since they fell right back in front of his eyes— and grinned. “So, what brings you to my humble abode, my dear Captain?” He bowed dramatically, peering up at Gepard through his eyelashes.

Gepard rolled his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “I need to talk to you about my parents,” he admitted. “Now.”

“Oh?” Sampo straightened and tilted his head. “They found out about Brughel?”

“Yeah.” Gepard winced. “My father called me today. He’s… not happy.” He looked at Sampo gravely, his heart dropping when the other man only smiled wider.

“Papa Landau? Not happy?” Sampo snorted. “Who could’ve guessed?”

“Don’t speak as if you know my family,” Gepard snapped. “Take this situation seriously, or I swear to Qlipoth—“

“Woah, hey!” Sampo held up his hands defensively. “I never said I’m not taking this seriously! Sheesh, you need to lighten up.”

“I can’t lighten up, Koski. This is about my family. My parents need to like you, so you have to get yourself together!”

”I know, Gepard.” Sampo’s smile dropped as he spoke, and he crossed his arms. “You don’t have to yell at me. Aeons, your parents must be terrible if they have you this stressed about a relationship.”

Gepard’s head pounded with rage. Sampo knew nothing about his family, and yet here he was, speculating. The criminal’s expression shifted into one of slight guilt, but the damage was done.

Gepard turned and marched toward the door. “Forget it,” he muttered. “Just text me with times and dates that you’re available. I’m going home.”

“Wh— hey!” Gepard turned back around, glaring at Sampo tiredly. The man had the decency to look genuinely apologetic, at least. “I’m sorry, Gepard. Why don’t we just sit down, and we can talk about our schedules here?”

Gepard had to hand it to Sampo— he was good at placating when he wanted to be. His usually annoying voice didn’t grate on Gepard as much as it usually did. Although, thinking about it, he hadn’t found it genuinely irritating in a while. Despite everything, spending more time with Sampo had made his attitude somewhat endearing.

Wait, what? Gepard internally cringed at himself. Sampo was still a criminal, meaning Gepard wasn’t allowed to enjoy being around him. Especially not after he had overstepped. That was a dangerous path to go down, and Gepard didn’t want to explore it any further.

The Captain took a deep breath, then nodded in agreement. “Fine,” he said, resigning to his fate. “Let’s talk.”

He could only hope things would go well with his parents now, and that Sampo’s associate Sparkle didn’t cause any trouble. This was going to be a very, very long week.

Chapter Text

“We need to come up with an excuse about your family,” Gepard insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “A good one. You can’t just keep saying Brughel doesn’t have a family.”

“Why not?” Sampo ran his hand through his hair and groaned dramatically. “We’ve been at this for an hour, Gep. You’re being way too picky about this.”

“My parents are the picky ones.” Blinking was painful for Gepard, as he had been staring at the ceiling for a good while now. The exhaustion did not help at all. As soon as he had sat down on Sampo’s couch, he felt the weight of the day catch up with him. Training, patrolling, speaking with his father, and filing reports had taken a toll.

Sampo didn’t look much better. Gepard chose to take some comfort in that. How did that old saying go? Misery loves company. The two men sported matching dark circles and bloodshot eyes, both visibly stressed.

It was oddly nice to see Sampo looking so human, Gepard realized detachedly. This exhaustion, combined with the criminal’s earlier frustration with his associate Sparkle, was a nice change of pace. It seemed that Sampo was too tired to keep up his usual annoying charade.

Sampo took a deep breath, then pushed it out slowly. “You wouldn’t be lying, you know,” he said. “If you tell them Brughel doesn’t have a family. Legally, she’s an orphan.”

Gepard cringed. “My parents… well, my father specifically… he won’t like that.” It was an understatement, really. Gepard had learned a long, long time ago that Lionel Landau did not take kindly to those that he deemed lesser. He had already jumped to conclusions about Brughel being from the Underworld, which may not have even been a lie. For all Gepard knew, Sampo himself was an Underworlder.

Gepard paused, frowning. “What about your family,” he asked curiously. “Could they be used as a cover?” He had to admit to himself that he was itching for an answer for personal reasons. It still bothered him how little he knew about Sampo, and how much the other man knew about him in comparison.

Sampo chuckled under his breath, shaking his head like he was scolding a child. “My family ain’t around, Gep,” he said.

Gepard’s face burned with embarrassment. “Oh,” he mumbled. “I’m… sorry.” He should never have pried. He always tried his best to be sensitive to other people, but it seemed he had failed yet again.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Sampo waved his hand flippantly, as if he hadn’t just admitted to something so tragic. “Can’t miss people you never knew, eh?”

Despite Sampo’s lighthearted tone, the mood grew somber. Gepard supposed most of that was his own fault, as his heart was slowly sinking.

Sampo really did seem like he didn’t care about having no family. Perhaps they really had been strangers to him. In a way, it spared Sampo the grief of losing them, but to grow up alone… it sounded awful. Even someone as annoying as Sampo deserved to have a family.

The blue-haired man cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Don’t give me that look,” he laughed tensely. “There’s nothing Sampo Koski hates more than pity.” He was visibly trying to play it off as a joke, but Gepard knew him better than that by now.

Gepard sighed and nodded, looking away. “Sorry,” he muttered again. He scrambled to recover the subject he had lost track of. “Well… since that’s not an option, I guess we’ll just have to put up with their reaction to Brughel not having any background.”

It was like a switch had flipped in Sampo’s head. He relaxed, his smile returning at full force, and he crossed his legs casually. “I never said she doesn’t have a background,” he clarified. “I made up fake parents for her. It’s surprisingly easy to forge documents and proof of employment!”

“…I’m going to ignore that.”

“Ignore what?” Sampo leaned forward, looking up at Gepard through his eyelashes and batting his eyes innocently. They were seated across from each other, Gepard on the couch, Sampo on an armchair. The apartment was relatively small, so they were close enough for Sampo to touch Gepard, if he so desired.

Gepard felt his face warm. He wasn’t quite embarrassed, but he didn’t know what else to call the feeling. He shifted to the left in an attempt at escaping Sampo’s scrutiny.

He breathed deeply and rolled his eyes. “Let’s stop talking about how many crimes you’ve committed for this, and just… work on what we’re going to say to my parents?”

“In my defense, not all of the forgeries were specifically for this job.” Sampo pointed at himself, then Gepard. As if that makes it any better, Gepard thought bitterly.

“Anyway!” Sampo clapped his hands together. “I’ve got this covered. Conversation topics are easy— my job, how we met, what we like about each other, et cetera. My main concern is how bad you are at acting.”

Gepard scowled offendedly. “I thought I was improving!” Sampo had told him so before, and he’d agreed at the time. It was easier to pretend to like Sampo the longer they spent time together, so he’d thought he was doing well.

Sampo shrugged. “You are,” he clarified with a smirk. “But you’re still not great. Being stiff and awkward in a fresh relationship is normal, but your parents raised you. They know your tells even better than I do, which is saying something.”

Gepard didn’t feel like asking Sampo to elaborate on knowing his tells, so he ignored that particular detail. He was too tired for this, and he swore he could feel his brain decaying rapidly the longer this went on.

He gave Sampo a dry, defeated look. “So what,” he huffed. “Am I supposed to take acting courses now? I can’t afford to spend any more time on this.” Really, he shouldn’t have been spending any time on it at all. He could have handled his parents ignoring his schedule for the sake of producing an heir on his own.

He had to admit, though, it was actually nice to get out once in a while. Even if it was with Sampo.

“Nah.” Sampo shrugged. “You just gotta relax. Be yourself, you know?” He paused, then snorted quietly. “On second thought, ‘Gepard’ and ‘relaxed’ are an oxymoron.”

“I don’t have the luxury of relaxing.”

“Everyone does, Gepard. Belobog won’t fall apart without you.”

Gepard opened his mouth to protest, only to stop short when he noticed Sampo’s expression. The other man was still smiling, but this time, it was softer. His eyes seemed gentler too, filled with what looked like concern.

That couldn’t be right, though. Sampo couldn’t be concerned about Gepard, of all people. The Captain was an enemy, or if Gepard was being generous, just as much of a nuisance to Sampo as he was to Gepard. Although, thinking about it, Sampo didn’t really treat Gepard like a nuisance.

The realization made Gepard frown, though, looking back, he knew he was right. Sampo always seemed enthusiastic to see him, when he wasn’t being chased. He even seemed to enjoy the chases, taunting Gepard and greeting him as an “old friend.” It was a well-known disarming tactic to try and diffuse a situation, but Sampo was fully capable of running rather than talking his way out.

In fact, Sampo didn’t need to run at all. He could have used a disguise at any time. Again, Gepard wondered: why would he allow “Sampo Koski” to exist at all when he could easily leave no trace of himself? Why agree to help Gepard, his number one problem?

Gepard was not an idiot. He knew Sampo was motivated by money, but he could have extorted Gepard for more than a few hundred thousand credits. He could have stolen so much from the Silvermane Guards already, but he hadn’t. Nothing had been reported as missing or leaked.

Sampo’s look of what seemed like genuine concern was more than confusing. If Gepard squinted, he could almost convince himself that Sampo cared about him, but that was ridiculous.

He shook his head, freeing himself from his thoughts. “What were you saying,” he asked, having forgotten. His face burned with frustration and embarrassment. He really was exhausted, though Sampo didn’t seem much better.

The scammer blinked, then straightened in his chair. “Nothing,” he deflected hurriedly. “Point is, you got nothing to worry about. Just memorize your lines and trust your acting partner, yeah?” As if to emphasize his statement, Sampo reached out and patted Gepard’s shoulder.

Gepard didn’t shrug the hand off. “Trusting you is a tall order,” he said, though he couldn’t stop a smile from twitching across his lips.

“Eh. Fair enough.” Sampo flicked his bangs away from his face, ignoring them when they fell right back into the same position. “Still, at least try, okay? You can’t act well when your partner refuses to cooperate.”

Gepard bit the inside of his cheek, ignoring the sting, and sighed. “Okay,” he said. He hoped to Qlipoth he would be able to calm himself before meeting with his parents. “When are you free?”

“Anytime this week.” Sampo beamed, and Gepard swallowed.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I’ll call my father tomorrow to set up a date.” He just hoped he wouldn’t keel over on the spot when he did.

———

“Stop fidgeting with your arm.”

“It itches, Sampo. And I’m not fidgeting, I’m adjusting the strap for my prosthetic.”

“You’ll call attention to how nervous you are.”

“My parents know my arm’s not real, Koski. I think they can handle seeing me fiddle with it without making assumptions.”

Truthfully, Gepard was too nervous to stand still. Sampo was standing next to him, in front of the home of the two eldest Landaus. They didn’t live in the family home anymore, having settled for a smaller place once their children had moved out. Though, “small” to the Landaus was still ridiculously large for any normal family.

Gepard scratched the connection point between his skin and his prosthetic. He normally didn’t think about it much. He’d had it for so long, it was second nature to him. It always got itchy when he had to see his parents, though. His false hand felt out of place in their home.

Sampo laughed under his breath, and grabbed Gepard’s left hand to stop him from scratching. “What did I say about relaxing,” he prompted lightheartedly. Gepard sighed.

“I know,” he muttered. “I’m just… nervous.”

“I can tell. And they’ll be able to tell too.” Sampo lightly poked Gepard’s side. The blond flinched, turning to scowl at his fake date. Sampo met his glare with a lipstick-lined grin. He had red stains on his teeth where the makeup had rubbed off.

Gepard had half a mind to reach up and wipe the lipstick away, but he forced that thought back where it had come from. Instead, he turned back to the door and took a deep breath. “Are you ready,” he asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

“Ready,” Sampo confirmed, clearing his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was pitched higher and had a more sophisticated lilt than his usual tone. “Let’s make your parents fall in love with me!”

Gepard reached up and knocked on the door, a lump already forming in his throat. His heart was pounding so hard, he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. It was just his parents, he reminded himself. Just his parents, who could easily spend the rest of their lives berating Gepard for bringing shame and scandal to the family for being involved with—

The door opened, revealing a short, yet poised woman with light blonde hair— Savannah Landau. “Gepard,” she greeted with a soft smile. “It’s so good to see you. Come give your mother a hug!” Behind her stood Gepard’s father, his hair a shade darker and his eyes a bit harder.

This was going to go terribly. Gepard just knew it.

He let go of Sampo’s hand and bent over to hug his mother. The scent of her perfume made him relax slightly. It was easy to forget sometimes that his parents had, in fact, raised him, and they loved him. Spending time away from them often built a scarier image of them in his head than what was real.

Pulling away from his mother, Gepard reached out to shake his father’s hand. Lionel Landau reciprocated the gesture, his grip firm, almost painful. His eyes drifted from Gepard to the person standing behind him.

Gepard cleared his throat and stepped back, feeling stiff and awkward. “Mother, Father,” he said, “this is Brughel. My…” He paused. He had forgotten to ask Sampo how to define their fake relationship. The word girlfriend didn’t feel right, although maybe that was just because he knew Sampo was a man.

“His girlfriend,” Sampo finished, banishing any doubt from Gepard’s mind. It still felt wrong, but at least he knew what term to use. “It’s lovely to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hm. We’ve hardly heard anything about you,” Lionel huffed. Savannah pinched her husband’s arm lightly, then turned back to the couple on her doorstep.

“Your father and I are disappointed that you didn’t tell us sooner,” Savannah said, “but we’re happy that you’re here now. Please, come in. Dinner’s already on the table.”

As they entered the house, Sampo raised an eyebrow at Gepard, nodding toward the rather extravagant crystal chandelier above them. He received a pointed glare in return. Don’t you dare say a word, Gepard thought, wishing Sampo could read minds.

Sharp green eyes flitted around each room they passed through. It wasn’t enough to be noticed by the Landau parents, but Gepard still felt a spike of anxiety. He knew Sampo well enough to recognize the look he got when he was appraising valuables.

Shit, this was a mistake, Gepard thought to himself in a panic. A squeeze on his left arm from Sampo helped ground him, admittedly, but his anxiety was already making him nauseous.

Deep breaths. He just had to take deep breaths. He did so, letting the fresh oxygen clear his mind. He could do this. He was prepared. He just had to get through one night.

The dining room was where he remembered it to be, even though he hadn’t visited his parents here for a very long time. The long table was fully set with a bright blue tablecloth, complete with a rose trim. A full meal was already laid out, as promised, still piping hot and fresh.

Sampo whistled lowly. “You didn’t have to do so much just for us,” he said with false humility that almost made Gepard laugh. The man was enjoying himself already, and was visibly excited to be treated to a free meal.

“Nonsense,” Lionel said gruffly. “You are our guest.” He pulled out his wife’s chair at the far end of the table, then took his own seat at the head. Gepard followed suit, pulling out the chair on at his father’s right hand for Sampo. These manners were practically drilled into his head, so at least he had that to fall back on. He sat next to Sampo, trying not to look too stiff.

Gepard and Sampo were instructed to serve themselves, and so they did. As they picked various dishes, Lionel cleared his throat.

“So, Miss… Poisson, was it?” Sampo looked up and smiled, tilting his head. He was wearing dangling emerald earrings that caught in the light. Gepard wondered if they were actually his.

“That’s my name,” Sampo laughed. “Don’t wear it out!” The lame attempt at a joke wasn’t dignified with a response. Gepard coughed in the silence, and his father sighed.

“Gepard said you are a journalist,” Lionel continued. He was acting less like a father and more like an interrogator. Which, in hindsight, was normal for him. Gepard had to remind himself to take deep breaths and trust his partner. They were in this together, after all.

“Yep!” Sampo shifted, adjusting the thin straps of his dress. Thankfully the outfit wasn’t too dressy or low-cut. That would have been an absolute disaster. “I work for the Crystal Daily right now, but I’m mostly a freelancer.”

“That trashy tabloid…” Lionel muttered under his breath. Sampo had the grace to pretend like he hadn’t heard, despite how obvious Gepard’s father was being. Gepard himself wasn’t so lucky. He fought the urge to adjust his prosthetic.

Switching gears, Lionel started grilling Sampo about his family. The man stuck to the story he and Gepard had worked out: Brughel was an orphan, but she was from the Overworld. She had aged out of the system and was making a name for herself in the journaling world. There were no surviving Poisson family members.

While Sampo spoke, Gepard wondered how much of that story, besides his absent parents, was true. Sampo lied so effortlessly, yet he had decided to share something so personal with Gepard. Sure, Sampo was giving away that information now, but it wasn’t technically him. It was Brughel’s story, not Sampo’s.

Some sad, pathetic part of Gepard actually felt honored.

“So how did you two meet?” Savannah was kinder in her questioning, but it was still very much an interrogation. Her wrinkled face was harsh, and her eyes burned with curiosity.

Sampo giggled. “Well, that’s a funny story, actually.” They had come up with this story as well, before calling Gepard’s father with an available date and time. When Sampo didn’t continue, Gepard took over.

“We met at work,” he explained. He had rehearsed this speech every night in the week leading up to this dinner. “She wanted to interview me.”

“He choked up when he saw me.” Sampo twirled a lock of black, synthetic hair between his fingers. “Started stammering like you wouldn’t believe! It was adorable”

Gepard bristled. They hadn’t discussed that part. “It wasn’t that bad,” he insisted, his face burning. He heard his mother laugh, and he immediately wanted to disappear into the void of space.

“That sounds like Gepard,” Savannah commented. She ignored the way her son’s jaw dropped in disbelief and betrayal, and kept talking. “He always was a bit shy around girls. It’s adorable.”

“I know, right?” Sampo slid his hand down Gepard’s arm, lacing their fingers together and giving him a sweet smile. “I was so charmed, I had to ask him for a date right after our interview!”

Gepard tried to recover his dignity, tugging at the tie around his neck. “I told you that was unprofessional,” he ad libbed. He managed to muster a bit of pride for his improvisation, through the humiliation.

Sampo laughed, less like the demure persona of Brughel Poisson, and more like himself— obnoxious and loud, and strikingly contagious. Gepard bit back a smile. “I’m always professional,” Sampo insisted teasingly. “Maybe you were just too cute to resist breaking the rules a little.”

Gepard found himself blushing furiously. He buried his face in his free hand to cover it, but it was too late. His mother was cooing, and he could hear his father muttering about how forward Sampo was being. Gepard just wallowed in his stew of flustered emotions, trying to sort out what was happening.

Sampo was convincing, Gepard would give him that. His words sounded so sincere, their tone alone was enough to make the Captain’s heart skip a beat. He supposed he was reacting to that part. Anyone would have done the same.

His self-pity was short-lived. He was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound coming from his left. He felt Sampo’s hand tense in his own before it slipped away entirely, leaving his palm surprisingly cold.

He looked up in confusion to see that Sampo was checking his phone. His face was uncharacteristically serious as he chewed on his lip, smudging his teeth with more lipstick. The Landau parents both looked confused, but Gepard’s father seemed irritated. Shit.

Gepard scrambled to deal with the situation, but before he could, Sampo stood up. “I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, “I have to take this. It’s urgent.” Without waiting for a response, he dashed off, his short heels clacking on the tile floor.

Gepard froze under the scrutiny of his parents. Fuck. What was he supposed to do now that he was alone? He didn’t trust Sampo to be by himself in his parents’ home.

His father scowled, deepening the lines on his face. “She’s a bit… eccentric,” he commented. He said it like it was an insult, glaring at Sampo’s empty chair. Gepard gritted his teeth. Breathe. Just breathe.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he replied. “She’s perfectly respectable regardless.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.” Next to Lionel, Savannah’s eyes widened. She shook her head, as if to silently tell her husband not to continue. He ignored her, crossing his arms and staring Gepard down.

“Have you done a background check,” Lionel demanded. “A thorough one? I have some suspicions about her.”

“Father, I…” Gepard took a deep breath. “Yes, I have. You know me better than that.”

“Do I? Because it seems to me that you’ve been galavanting around with cheap trash.”

Savannah gasped, hissing at Lionel to stop talking, but Gepard already felt his temper boiling. He clenched his jaw and adjusted his prosthetic. “I don’t know what you mean, Father,” he growled.

“She looks like a common street whore,” Lionel shot back. “Sure, she can clean up nice, but that doesn’t erase where she came from.”

“She’s from the Overworld, Father!”

“And what of her parents?” Lionel scoffed. “Do you really expect me to trust that she’s told you the truth? For all we know, her parents were Underworld trash. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were alive and just abandoned their child—“

Gepard slammed his hand on the table, cutting his father off. The instinctive fear of angering his parents was being rapidly overpowered by his own rage bubbling to the surface. He couldn’t even begin to explain why, but he wasn’t going to unpack that right then.

“This conversation is over,” he insisted, his voice low and harsh.

“Gepard—“

“I said, it’s over.” He stood, pushing his chair back. “I will not stand for you disrespecting my partner. If you want to apologize to the both of us, you can call me. For now, we’re leaving.”

He didn’t wait for a response before he marched out of the dining room in the same direction Sampo had went. He could hear his mother starting to yell at his father, but he tuned them out. He just had to get Sampo, get out, and go home.

Sampo was easy to find, thankfully. He seemed to be on his way back already, nearly bumping into Gepard before the blond grabbed his hand and started steering him away.

“Wh— hey!” Sampo pulled himself away, frowning at Gepard. “I wasn’t gone that long! Calm down—“

“We’re leaving.” Gepard took Sampo’s hand again, dragging him toward the front entrance. Sampo didn’t resist physically, but he protested the whole way.

“What’s gotten into you,” he demanded, forgetting to pitch his voice higher. That didn’t matter anyway. The Landau parents would be too preoccupied to notice. “Gep— Gepard, what the hell?!”

The night air was cool enough to sting Gepard’s nose when he opened the door, but he was accustomed to it. He just pulled Sampo the rest of the way forward, and began the march back to the man’s apartment.

Gepard’s heart was pounding as he walked. “They were insulting your family,” he explained. “We don’t have to put up with that.”

Sampo planted his feet firmly on the ground, forcing Gepard to turn around to face him. “Captain,” he said, his hands on his hips, “why the hell would that be a reason to leave?”

Gepard opened his mouth, then paused. The fresh air was reaching his head now, allowing him to think clearly. Sampo pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly annoyed.

“They were insulting Brughel’s family,” he said slowly. “Not mine. I wouldn’t care either way, because Brughel and her parents aren’t real.”

He was right, of course. Gepard knew that. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “I… I still didn’t like it,” he mumbled pathetically. He had no clue why he didn’t like it, though.

Sampo sighed heavily, frowning. The expression made Gepard’s heart sink. “Well, at least you’ve proven you like Brughel,” he said with clearly forced optimism. “They’ll probably never like her, but hey, at least I’ll get paid!” He waved his hands wildly and wavered his voice, like he was mocking himself. “Jeez, Koski, you’ve gotten yourself in a pickle, that’s for sure.”

Gepard swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Intentions and impact are two very different things.” Sampo craned his neck upwards, then dropped it to the side, looking at Gepard with tired eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you have to keep it under control, okay? For both of our sakes.”

With that, Sampo began to walk down the street. Gepard wanted to follow, but he found himself stuck in place. He stared down at his mismatched hands, clenching and unclenching them as he thought.

Brughel wasn’t real. Why had Gepard stormed out? All he knew was that hearing Sampo get insulted made him feel awful. His first instinct had been to protect the other man.

That was ridiculous. They were on opposite sides of the law. Though, lately, thinking about that was getting more and more uncomfortable. Gepard balled his hands into fists and held them like that, his lips wavering.

Why did seeing Sampo angry with him make him want to cry?

Chapter Text

Sampo hadn’t contacted Gepard in a week. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary, as he would sometimes disappear off the face of the planet for a few days, but to have it happen so soon after their argument…

Gepard had spent the morning after their disastrous dinner with his parents trying to deal with the fallout by himself. He hadn’t wanted to speak to Sampo at the time, but as the days dragged on, a hollow pit formed in his gut.

He thought about Sampo’s irritated scowl more often than not, lately. He had never seen the con man angry before, and he didn’t know what to do with that information. Of all things, why had Gepard getting defensive of him been what finally pissed Sampo off?

Gepard refused to think too hard about why he had been so protective. He told himself that he had just started to see Brughel as a real person in a strange slip-up. He had never acted before, but it couldn’t be that uncommon. It certainly didn’t help that Brughel’s situation was more personal to Sampo than just a made-up backstory. It just made things more real.

Gepard decided to reach out first, at the end of the first hellish week of silence. It was a simple text, just asking Sampo if he was free to talk soon. He shut off his phone after hitting send, combing through his hair with his fingers and heading to work to put Sampo out of his mind.

He wasn’t very successful. Pela had clearly noticed the tension in Gepard’s shoulders, even though they didn’t know each other that well. Gepard shuddered to think what his sisters would be able to glean just by looking at him, if his colleagues could see through his facade.

When he checked his phone that evening, he had several text notifications. Seven from his father, three from Serval, and none from Sampo. He ignored his father, opening his messages to Serval with mounting dread.

Serval: Geppie, dad’s been blowing up my phone all week

Serval: Gep istg

Serval: If that con man bastard did something to you I will strangle him with my guitar strings

Gepard couldn’t help but snort at this. He replied as he walked home, relying on muscle memory to hit the correct letters on his keyboard. It was a force of habit to keep an eye on his surroundings, and he was practiced enough to remain legible.

Gepard: If I was dead, you’d have heard about it by now.

Serval: by the Preservation, Gepard, text back quicker

Serval: what the hell did Sampo do to dad

Gepard pursed his lips. The familiar feeling from that horrible dinner was bubbling back up, to his confusion. Sampo wasn’t even there this time, presumably nowhere near his general vicinity. He really had to stop overreacting.

He sighed and texted back, walking up to his door while fishing out his keys with his free hand.

Gepard: Nothing.

Serval: Don’t lie to me.

Gepard: I’m not lying. It was my own fault.

As he entered his house, he shrugged off his coat and began to work through his nightly routine. Most of the staff was asleep by then, despite the fact that being a night owl ran in the Landau family. He tried his best to stay quiet as he moved, still texting Serval.

Serval: You gotta stop blaming yourself for dad’s bullshit

Gepard: I’m seriously not. I’m the one who yelled at him.

He winced at the memory and the messages from his parents that were still unread. He didn’t have the energy to deal with those. He watched as Serval’s little gray text bubble appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared for an uncomfortable amount of time. She was getting a rant ready, then.

Serval: Holy shit, seriously? You never yell at dad. Who are you and what have you done with my brother? This better not be some Fragmentum monster posing as Gepard.

Gepard chuckled quietly. He wasn’t the best at reading tone through text, but he knew Serval well enough to know she was teasing. It actually came as a relief after so much stress.

Gepard: I’ll explain later, ok? It’s late.

Serval: Fine. You’re buying me breakfast first thing tomorrow

Gepard: Absolutely not.

Serval: Such cruelty. From my own flesh and blood. You want your sister to starve?

Gepard: Yeah. <3

Gepard was grinning like an idiot by then, exchanging teasing goodnights with his sister before shutting off his phone for the night. Despite his words, he did agree to buy her breakfast. Food would make talking about his parents more bearable, especially considering the fact that he would have to bring up Sampo.

Damn it. He had been doing a good job of not thinking about Sampo for a few minutes. He scowled at his face in the bathroom mirror, pushing away the worry blooming in his gut. Sampo was fine, and even if he wasn’t, Gepard wouldn’t care.

The lie left a bad taste in his mouth.

———

Gepard and Serval met in a café near Serval’s workshop. True to his word, Gepard would pay for their breakfast, picking out a simple muffin while Serval ordered a pastry. As they settled in, the older Landau sibling fixed her little brother with a curious look.

“So it really is your fault dad’s pissed off?” She sipped at her coffee, regarding Gepard coolly. She was difficult to avoid when she was determined, unfortunately.

Gepard sighed. “Can we at least eat before we get into this?” Their food was still being prepared, and Gepard was reluctant to discuss his parents on an empty stomach. To his dismay, Serval shook her head.

“He still won’t stop calling me,” she said. “‘Serval, text your brother!’ ‘Don’t ignore me, young lady!’ You’d think he would’ve calmed down with age, but he’s still such an asshole…”

Gepard clenched his jaw. He wanted to defend his father, but he couldn’t deny that Serval was right this time. He didn’t want to see his parents again for a long time, if he could help it.

He sighed, trying to relax his muscles. He ended up tensing them in a different, more uncomfortable way. “I wish dad would stop bothering you,” he said apologetically. “I’m the one he has a problem with, not you.”

“Yeah, well, you know how he is.” She left her words hanging, and they settled somewhere in Gepard’s stomach as he processed them. He didn’t feel very hungry anymore, but he took his muffin anyway when it was brought out a few minutes latent.

He picked at it, watching Serval dig into her pastry like a starved animal. After she’d wolfed down about half of it, she paused for air and sat back in her seat. “So,” she said, “you wanna tell me what happened?”

Gepard grimaced and launched into an explanation of the dinner’s events. He carefully omitted details of his father’s insults toward Sampo— Brughel, he reminded himself forcefully. He also left out his own feelings about the subsequent argument with Sampo. That was something Serval didn’t need to know.

When he was done recounting the dinner, Serval pursed her lips. She took another gulp of coffee, finishing off the cup. “Man, that’s weird,” she muttered. “I’ve never seen Koski mad before.”

“Neither have I.” Gepard winced at the memory. He truly hated seeing that look on Sampo’s face. It was, for lack of a better word, disturbing.

Serval hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers on the table. “Did he say why he was pissed?”

“I…” Gepard frowned, glaring at his hands as he fidgeted with his gloves. He didn’t technically need to wear two gloves, but he’d wanted his hands to match today. “I got… defensive. Of Brughel. That seems to be the only reason.”

“Well, she isn’t real. I don’t see the problem here.” Serval shrugged. “Hell, that just makes your relationship more believable.” The word relationship further soured Gepard’s mood. He tried not to make it known.

“I don’t understand either,” he said exasperatedly. “Maybe it’s because I ruined the act? I’m paying him to make our parents like him, so that’s probably it.” That explanation didn’t feel quite right, but it was the only one he had. It made sense, too. If there was one thing Gepard knew about his acting partner, it was that Sampo prided himself on a job well done.

Serval didn’t seem to like that explanation either. She scrunched up her nose, finishing the rest of her pastry. Gepard could see the gears turning in her head as she chewed, scowling at nothing in particular.

“You said he’s ghosting you?” She pulled out her phone and started typing something. “I’m gonna try to get in contact with him. He usually answers me right away.”

“Why does he text you?” Gepard’s frown deepened. Serval and Sampo weren’t exactly friends anymore. They were still in contact, but he didn’t think they talked regularly.

Serval shrugged, giving Gepard a sly grin. “I try to keep him in line,” she said cryptically. “If he doesn’t answer, I’ll ask Nat. She’ll probably have a better idea.”

“Nat?” Gepard thought of the Underworld doctor he had been working with to a degree since the travel ban had been lifted. She was nice enough, and he knew she was affiliated with Sampo, but why did Serval of all people know her?

“We’ve been talking.” Without elaborating, Serval set down her phone. She looked back up at Gepard, staring him down with renewed interest. “With that out of the way, let’s talk about something lighter. How’s work?”

Serval listened as Gepard spoke, but it was clear that both of their minds were elsewhere. Gepard wouldn’t admit it out loud, but work had been boring lately. His soldiers had noticed Sampo’s absence as much as him, but they didn’t take it nearly as seriously.

A few of them joked about Sampo finally “kicking the bucket,” as they put it. They drank to the idea, pretending to toast to the downfall of their most public annoyance. A few of them had fallen for the con man’s scams before, and he was nothing short of a pain in the ass, so they always celebrated his disappearances when they happened.

Gepard had never celebrated with them. He knew his men just wanted to have a break from watching out for the blue-haired menace, but he had always tried to prepare for when Sampo would show up again. Over the past week, however, he had spent that time worrying instead.

Things were too quiet for his liking, even with the lingering Fragmentum. Part of him wondered if Sampo had gone out to the snow plains to hide, which he wasn’t above doing. Lynx hadn’t said anything about the Belobog Snowman lately, though, which wasn’t helping Gepard’s nerves.

Had Sampo actually died? Gepard always thought he was used to saying goodbye to people, knowing they may be gone the next day, but it still hurt him every time. The mere thought of it filled him with crippling anxiety, and to his horror, those feelings were now being extended toward Sampo.

As annoying as he was, the man didn’t deserve to die. Especially not when their last conversation had been an argument.

Gepard didn’t even know what he wanted to say to Sampo. That he was sorry? That he shouldn’t have said anything? He didn’t even know why he was so upset about everything. Sampo wasn’t his friend, he was just a common criminal. He shouldn’t care.

When Gepard and Serval parted ways, Serval told him to take it easy. “You shouldn’t worry about Sampo so much,” she insisted gently. “He can’t get into too much trouble in just one week.”

Gepard didn’t have the heart to tell his sister that wasn’t why he was worried. He swallowed his anxiety and said goodbye, heading to Qlipoth Fort. If Serval noticed that he obsessively checked his phone every ten seconds before disappearing down the street, she didn’t say anything.

Chapter Text

Natasha hadn’t seen Sampo.

Gepard knew full well she could be lying. After all, Sampo was her friend, and she didn’t fully trust the Silvermane Guards. Sampo also provided her with much-needed supplies, as the Underworld was still neglected, even with the travel ban lifted and Bronya trying her best to reduce that effect.

Despite his understanding, Gepard couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Two entire weeks had passed since the disastrous dinner with his parents, and Sampo was still missing. Gepard’s worry had evolved into a full blown panic at this point, no matter how hard he tried to quell it.

The silence was ridiculous, especially considering how long Sampo’s disappearances usually lasted. He was always back after one week, at most. Gepard’s panic was mixed with rage, and he found himself planning to deliver an impassioned speech when Sampo returned. He was going to get the scolding of his life if Gepard had anything to say about it.

He settled back into his usual routine, despite it all. He went to work, powered through the day, and tried his best to remember to take care of himself. His parents had calmed down, it seemed, as his phone slowly buzzed less and less as the days went by. Gepard eventually responded, insisting that his parents apologize to Sampo the next time they met, even though they hadn’t actually insulted him to his face.

Brughel. Not Sampo. It was getting harder and harder for Gepard to correct himself. Brughel wasn’t real, and she certainly wasn’t Sampo. He still didn’t understand his own feelings on the matter, but that wasn’t important at the moment. He could deal with that later, when Sampo came back.

Serval hadn’t heard from Sampo at all. She’d expressed her concern and confusion to Gepard, stating that even though the two didn’t see eye to eye, Serval still cared about Sampo to a degree, and he was always reliable with responding to her. Especially if she was clearly angry.

Two weeks of nothing was clearly getting to everyone involved. So, of course, when Gepard finally got a response, he felt rather strongly about it.

When he arrived at work on Thursday— two weeks and three days since he’d last heard from Sampo— he opened his office door and froze. Nothing seemed out of place inside the office, but on the outside, something was wrong.

Gepard’s office had a single window. It wasn’t very big, but he was alright with that. A bit of natural light boosted his mental and physical health quite a bit, so he could bear with a small window.

Said window was obstructed in the very corner by a small, neon pink square of paper. Approaching the paper, Gepard saw that it was a sticky note stuck to the outside of his window. Unlike a normal sticky note, where one would usually write on the front side, words were scrawled on the back, where the adhesive was applied. It was clearly written to be read from the inside of Gepard’s office. All the better, since his window couldn’t actually open.

Gepard ignored the part of him that wanted to complain about the vandalism and leaned closely to read the note. He recognized the handwriting instantly and nearly slammed his forehead into the glass in shock.

Geppie! Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Been busy. I’ll text back when I can <3 —SK

Gepard stared at the note, his heart pounding. All at once, his worry washed away, replaced with relief. It didn’t take long for anger to take over, though, and he gritted his teeth.

He still had paperwork to do, but for once, he decided to ignore it. That could wait. He had more important things to deal with, such as strangling Sampo Koski with his bare hands.

There were three places Sampo could be: the Underworld, the snow plains, or his Overworld apartment. Natasha would have alerted Gepard if he’d returned to Boulder Town, so that was out. Lynx would have texted him if Sampo was in the snow plains, so that meant that either Sampo had just returned, or he was in his Overworld apartment. Gepard decided to take his chances there.

Gepard didn’t bother clocking out or telling anyone where he was going. Nobody dared to ask. When he was moving quickly, he almost always had important places to be. This certainly counted as one of those situations, in his opinion. Right now, Sampo was his top priority, and he would be damned if he let anyone get in his way.

Unsurprisingly, nobody dared to try. He made it out of Qlipoth Fort with no resistance, and it was a relatively short walk to Sampo’s apartment from there. As he marched, Gepard began to plan out exactly what he was going to say to Sampo when he saw him again.

Koski, where have you been? How dare you leave without a word? Gepard winced at his own ideas. They sounded too caring, too invested in Sampo’s wellbeing. Although, was there really anything wrong with that? Sampo was a citizen of Belobog, after all, and Gepard ultimately didn’t want any of his people to get hurt.

Yes, he cared about Sampo. Not just the persona Brughel. He admitted it to himself as he walked, trying to shake off the shame he felt with the realization. There was nothing wrong with caring about someone, especially not when they’d spent so much time together as of late. Sampo had grown on him like a rather persistent mold, unfortunately, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

It was hard not to empathize with Sampo’s family history. Gepard couldn’t help but feel like having no family explained a lot about the man. His flashiness, his caginess, the secrecy that shrouded him. It was dangerous to feel so much for a criminal, but Gepard had never been good at pushing his feelings aside.

He could still arrest Sampo after the terms of their deal had been met. It wasn’t like they were actually friends.

He marched up to Sampo’s apartment, any and all planned speeches going out the window when he saw the door. He had been teased as a child for having a one-track mind, and he’d never really grown out of it. The only thing he cared about right then was Sampo Koski, and how hard he was going to punch the man when he opened that door.

Gepard knocked with enough force to rattle the door’s hinges. ”Open up,” he demanded. He heard someone gasp quietly behind him, likely a random civilian who was too nosy for anyone’s good. Part of Gepard registered the scene he was making. The rest of him didn’t care.

He knocked again, not as hard this time. “I know you’re in there,” he called. He debated using Sampo’s name, but decided against it. His voice was recognizable, even through a wooden door, and if he yelled out Sampo’s real name, both of them would have quite a bit of explaining to do to anyone who knew of their long-standing rivalry— which happened to be almost everyone in Belobog.

Gepard listened carefully, straining to hear any sign of movement inside. He would likely have to expand his search, which he was prepared for, but he still hoped he had gotten it right on the first try. Sampo was a slippery bastard, so it would be nice to catch him quickly.

From inside the apartment, Gepard heard footsteps. They moved quickly, but they weren’t approaching the door. In fact, they were running away. Gepard frowned. Of course Sampo would try to hide. Judging by his trajectory, he was heading toward the back of the apartment. Gepard didn’t want to break in, but…

Does his apartment have a back door? The thought made Gepard’s heart sink. He didn’t waste another second, shimmying into the side alley and shuffling his way behind the apartment building. It was a small building with only two apartments, so it didn’t take long for Gepard to reach his goal.

There was, in fact, a back door. Said back door was wide open, still swinging from the momentum of being pushed. Gepard cursed under his breath and began to run. You’re not getting away this time, Koski.

Gepard found Sampo’s route quickly. He knew the man’s favorite places to hide, and with the flashes of red coattails that disappeared behind each corner, it was easy to narrow down where Sampo was going. They both knew the alleyways well. Sampo should have known better than to try and lose Gepard of all people.

As he ran, Gepard felt the past two weeks of stress and anger lift fully from his shoulders. He knew exactly where Sampo was now, and things were normal. This chase was routine, and hell, it felt better than going on fake dates with the man. There were no deceptions between them— only the wind and the biting cold.

Gepard surged forward, picking up speed. It was difficult to turn corners as quickly as Sampo did, but he more than made up for it in straight sprints. He was closing in— he could see Sampo’s entire back now. Unconsciously, he registered a small, round object in the man’s hand, noticing it far too late to dodge when it was thrown.

Smoke erupted in Gepard’s face. He veered to the side instinctively to avoid it, then cursed through his coughs. He was going to be driven mad at this point. Sampo was right there, within his grasp, and the bastard had cheated. Though, cheating wasn’t exactly possible when there were no rules.

There were no rules.

In what could only be called a desperate act of selfishness, Gepard pressed onward. He couldn’t see through tears and smoke, but he could hear Sampo’s footsteps, and he knew exactly where to aim.

When he had first requested for Serval to modify his work prosthetic, he had severely restricted what she was allowed to do. She’d been disappointed by his stern “no firearms” policy, but she had worked well with what she had been given. In the end, the finished product was a masterpiece, in Gepard’s opinion.

A geomarrow core, repurposed not to warm, but to chill the air. Gepard already had an affinity for ice, thanks to the Preservation, but his arm allowed him better control over it. He thanked serval silently as he channeled Qlipoth’s power, strengthened by the engine running his arm, and punched the cobblestone street.

The sharp crackle of expanding ice filled the air, followed by a loud yelp and a thud as Gepard’s aim found its mark. The blond felt his lips stretch into an almost feral grin. He stood up, blinking away the last of his tears as the smoke cleared, revealing a groaning Sampo slumped against the wall several meters away.

Gepard didn’t hesitate any longer, picking himself up and marching toward Sampo determinedly. The buzz of adrenaline overtook any frustration he may have felt, wrapped in immense pride at having finally caught Sampo Koski. Even if it wasn’t for the purpose of arresting him, he had won.

He didn’t bother shaking off the feeling. Normally, he would be ashamed of thinking of himself in this situation, but after two weeks of worrying himself sick, he couldn’t bring himself to care about how selfish he was being. He knelt down in front of Sampo, gazing at the other man’s face for the first time in weeks.

Sampo’s nose was bleeding. Gepard winced. He had definitely overdone it with the ice, but Sampo’s nose didn’t look broken, so he supposed it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Green eyes were wide and darting around frantically, searching for a way out. Despite this, Sampo appeared outwardly relaxed, his muscles unclenched and an inviting smile on his face.

Gepard sighed with relief. “Where the hell have you been,” he asked firmly.

Sampo swallowed, finally meeting Gepard’s eyes. “Damn, Gep,” he chuckled. “Not even a ‘hello?’”

“We’re well past ‘hellos’ at this point, Koski.” Gepard leaned closer, planting one hand on the wall behind Sampo, effectively trapping the man. “Where have you been,” he insisted again.

Sampo just grinned up at Gepard, peering through half-lidded eyes. “Wow, you’re being forward,” he teased. “Did you miss me?”

“Answer. The goddamn. Question.” Gepard was far from in the mood for Sampo’s shenanigans. It seemed that the con man finally understood the gravity of the situation he was in, as his smile visibly weakened.

“Fine, fine,” Sampo sighed. “Can we at least go inside? My nose hurts like hell.” He sniffled and winced, giving Gepard a pitiful look. If he was trying to look pathetic, it was certainly working.

Gepard did feel bad for getting Sampo hurt, so he agreed. He helped the criminal up, quickly dispelling the ice he’d conjured so they could walk safely. Sampo complained loudly the whole way.

“I can’t believe you’d try to ruin this beautiful face,” Sampo whined. “How cruel of you!” He spoke as if he hadn’t vanished without a word for weeks. The casualness of his speech reignited the flames of Gepard’s ire. He held his tongue until they reached Sampo’s apartment, shutting the door behind them both. Finally, they were alone, and Gepard immediately took the opportunity presented to him.

He glared at Sampo with all of the fury in his body. “You left,” he growled, “for two weeks. And you have the fucking nerve to pretend like everything is normal?”

Sampo had the decency to look sheepish as he shrugged. “Look, in my defense, I didn’t mean to stay away for that long.” He produced a dishrag from seemingly out of nowhere, holding it under his nose and wincing as he brushed the sensitive skin. A nasty bruise was already starting to form.

“I don’t care,” Gepard said, glaring harder. “You were still gone. I have a right to an explanation.”

“Jeez, okay, okay!” Sampo rolled his eyes. “I was running an errand! I ran into some old friends, and they pulled me into hanging out with them.”

“Who and where are these friends?” Gepard held up his hand, cutting off Sampo before he could lie. “And don’t you dare say ‘the underworld,’ because I asked Natasha where you were, and she had no idea.”

Sampo’s eyes widened. “You asked around?” He seemed more surprised than upset, though he covered up his shock with a smirk. “Aw, do you care about me?”

Gepard swore he was going to blow a gasket. Frazzled from weeks of stress, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Yes,” he admitted in a rush of breath. “Please, just… be honest with me. For once.”

The room fell silent. Sampo’s eyes were wide, and his expression was entirely blank aside from a smile that didn’t seem real. Gepard shuddered at the sense of deja vu he got looking at Sampo’s face. He’d seen this frozen look once before, while arguing with Sampo about how he would act around his parents. It had unnerved him then, and it still unnerved him now.

It didn’t last long, Sampo snapping back to his usual animated self after just a few seconds. Gepard couldn’t shake the chill that had seized his spine, though, even as Sampo began to laugh.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Sampo said brightly. “Gepard Landau, caring for little ol’ me? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming!”

“Sampo.” Gepard suddenly felt exhausted, slumping against the back door. “Stop messing around. I was worried. We all were.” He resisted the urge to physically shiver when those verdant eyes latched onto him with an intensity that was extremely rare.

The nosebleed stopped rather quickly. Sampo touched his upper lip to check for fresh blood, and when he found none, he tossed the dishrag aside, not checking where it landed. He regarded Gepard lazily, looking him up and down. Finally, after what felt like hours, he relaxed.

“Alright,” he said casually. “I’ll believe you.” Liar, Gepard thought to himself bitterly. Sampo shrugged. “If you must know, I was off-planet.”

Gepard scrutinized Sampo closely. He was inclined to dismiss his words as a lie, but he knew Sampo better than that by now. He was rusty, but he was getting better at reading Sampo, and everything the man did seemed to point to one simple fact: he was telling the truth.

“You… can leave Belobog?” Gepard frowned. Sampo nodded. He hesitated briefly, then looked to the side shiftily. Not like he was hiding something, but like he was embarrassed. No, not embarrassed. Ashamed? That wasn’t quite right either, but Gepard didn’t know what to call it.

“I’m not even from Belobog,” Sampo said quietly. He wasn’t ashamed, Gepard realized. He was nervous.

“What do you mean?” Gepard’s frown deepened. “You’ve been here for years.” There was no way Sampo had managed to arrive from space without anyone noticing. He was the flashiest person Gepard knew, besides Serval. He couldn’t help but feel like Sampo should have arrived with a lot of fanfare.

Sampo chuckled, looking back up at Gepard. His nerves seemed to be gone, replaced with amusement. “I have,” he agreed, “but where did you think I came from?”

“The Underworld.” Saying it out loud, though, it dawned on Gepard that the idea was unlikely. The Underworld didn’t want to claim Sampo, and neither did the Overworld. He knew full well that the man didn’t seem to belong anywhere. Am I finally finding out why?

Sampo shook his head, confirming Gepard’s inner thoughts. “I’m not even from this star system.” He moved over to the kitchen sink, turning it on and running his finger under the water. He rubbed the dried blood on his face, cleaning off the last bit that still clung to his upper lip. He moved so casually, like he wasn’t rocking Gepard’s entire world.

All this time, Sampo hadn’t been from Jarilo-VI. He was a complete outsider. It left a sour taste in Gepard’s mouth, discovering that he had been interacting with someone who was essentially an alien for years, and he hadn’t even known. He was meant to protect Belobog, and yet Sampo, with all his eccentricities, had slipped right past him.

Although, Sampo wasn’t much of a threat, was he? If he could travel through space, he probably had access to weapons and technology Belobog couldn’t even dream of. The IPC was advanced, but Sampo didn’t seem to be affiliated with them. Even if he was, Gepard didn’t know the full capabilities of any faction in the galaxy.

If Sampo had access to more advanced technology, and there were more habitable planets out there, there was no reason for him to be in Belobog. Let alone existing as he had for nearly a decade.

He could be a refugee, but he certainly didn’t act like one. He didn’t act like he was on the run from much bigger law enforcement than the Silvermane Guards, as he clearly liked to lay low when he had done something truly illegal. Nothing he had done could be classified as “laying low.”

Gepard only had more questions. “So… you just went off planet,” he said, “and you said nothing to any of your friends?” He debated telling Natasha right then and there exactly where Sampo had been, and where she could find him so she could kick his ass. He decided to refrain… for now.

Sampo shrugged. “I like keeping that information to myself! It makes my character more mysterious that way.” He wiggled his fingers like he was a child telling a story around a campfire. Gepard felt his lips twitch into a smile, and he snorted.

“I’m still mad at you,” he said halfheartedly. Truthfully, he had too much to think about to be genuinely angry. He was sure the rage would come back to him once he had more time to think. For now, though, he was tired, confused, and above all, relieved, though those feelings were soured by regret.

He cringed. “I… I also wanted to apologize,” he muttered quietly. “For what happened before you left. I shouldn’t have—“

“Eh, I’m over it.” Gepard blinked in surprise, and Sampo flashed his signature catlike grin in response. “I don’t hold grudges, Gep,” he explained. “Besides, I get it. I’m a good actor. I really tugged at your heartstrings with that sob story, didn’t I?”

“…Sob story?”

“Y’know.” Sampo waved his hand flippantly. “The ‘no family’ thing.” Seeing Gepard’s deepening frown, he held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t lie about my family,” he clarified. “But Brughel’s one of my best roles, so I can’t blame you for getting attached to her.”

He seemed so genuine. Something twisted in Gepard’s gut. Nothing about this felt right. Two weeks ago, he would have agreed with Sampo, but now that he understood his own feelings better, it made him slightly sick. He wanted to tell Sampo that no, he wasn’t attached to Brughel, he was genuinely upset about Sampo being insulted, but before he could say anything, Sampo yawned loudly.

“I’m exhausted,” he whined. “And my nose hurts. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Gepard swallowed. “I’m… sorry.” Sampo waved him off again, that easy smile still on his face.

“Water under the bridge. But uh, I’d like to have the rest of the day to myself.” Sampo rubbed his eyes and shifted his expression to make himself look more tired and pitiable. “I just got back today, and I need my beauty rest… or can you not stand to be apart from your best friend Sampooo…”

Gepard rolled his eyes, resigning himself to staying silent about his true feelings for now. He could tell Sampo when both of them were less tired and more emotionally stable. “I’ll leave,” he said sharply. “This conversation isn’t over though. And I’m telling Natasha where you are.”

“Wh— wait, no, don’t—“ Gepard ignored Sampo, taking the back door outside. He waved goodbye, laughing quietly to himself as his name was whined from inside the apartment.

For all Sampo’s flaws, Gepard was glad to have him back. Finally, everything could go back to normal, and Gepard could get on with his life… once he processed Sampo being a space traveler.

Why the hell did Sampo stay in Belobog? And why spend so much time around Gepard when there were trillions of other people out there who were probably more interesting? Gepard was certain these questions would haunt him for days. As if I don’t have enough to worry about already.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Gepard to get curious enough to ask Sampo about his trip off-planet. He tried to give both of them space, as he was still working through his feelings on the matter, but his own interest won in the end.

He and Sampo had yet to go back to their usual routine of fake dates, but at least they were planning out the next week of activities. They were holed up in Sampo’s apartment in the late hours of the night, both kept awake only with caffeine and determination. Sampo was effectively trapped by social convention, so Gepard took the opportunity to strike.

“Where exactly did you go?” He derailed his own train of thought when he asked, but he didn’t care that much about their deal at the moment. Truthfully, the question had been eating away at him for days, and speaking it aloud was a relief.

Sampo raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t appear to be genuinely confused. So few of his expressions were real, Gepard had learned, so he always had to look extra hard to parse out what the criminal was actually feeling. Right then, Sampo seemed more curious than perplexed.

“Off-planet, I mean,” Gepard clarified weakly. “You haven’t told me anything about it.” Sampo shrugged, taking a seat on his lone armchair. He didn’t sit on it properly, though, planting his thighs right on the edge of the arm rest.

He peered at Gepard through his bangs. “You never asked,” he said with a grin. “Besides, I don’t wanna break that brain of yours! All those names and places would be meaningless to you.”

Anger bubbled under Gepard’s skin, a low simmer that he tried to cool. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Woah, hey, I never said you were stupid!” Sampo held up his hands defensively. “You’ve just never been anywhere, and no offense, but you don’t strike me as the type of guy to think about the big picture very often.”

Gepard stared at Sampo drily. “Don’t you dare make assumptions about me,” he spat. “I don’t spend every day worrying about the next interstellar threat to be treated this way.”

Sampo blinked, then looked away, fidgeting nervously. “Okay,” he conceded. “Wow, you’re intimidating.” He adjusted his posture, fully turning to face Gepard in a show of attentiveness. “What do you wanna know?”

“Where were you? Why did you leave in the first place? What’s—“

“Woah, hey, one at a time!” Sampo cringed, like hearing Gepard’s questions had made him uncomfortable. “Damn, anyone ever tell you that you can get really obsessive? You’re scaring me.” He laughed, but Gepard didn’t register that it was a joke until after he had apologized.

Sampo waved him off. “Lighten up,” he said casually. “Anyway, to answer your first question, it’s called Penacony. The Reverie hotel, specifically. Nice place, but a little flashy for my taste.”

Gepard snorted. “I hesitate to believe there’s anywhere that’s too flashy for you.”

“Eh, it wasn’t so bad when I was younger, but I’m getting old. My ancient bones can’t handle it anymore.” Sampo flopped onto the cushion of his armchair, swooning dramatically. Gepard resisted the urge to laugh, his anger disappearing entirely.

“You’re not even forty.” Gepard actually didn’t know how old Sampo was, but he knew he was younger than Serval. Less than forty years old seemed like a safe bet. Gepard supposed he understood the sentiment, though. Some of the younger soldiers had invited him to go drinking together while on leave, but he declined more and more often as he aged.

Sampo chuckled, gazing at Gepard upside-down. His bangs had been pulled away from his face by gravity. It was weird to see Sampo’s entire face at once, and for some reason, Gepard couldn’t look away.

“As for your second question,” Sampo continued, “I was running a personal errand. Just… picking up something I left behind.” He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, much to Gepard’s annoyance, but he moved on before the blond could ask for clarification.

“Oh, and Penacony isn’t just an ordinary hotel. It’s a hotel you visit in your dreams.” Sampo shook his fingers in an enthusiastic rendition of jazz hands. It looked ridiculous upside-down. “Don’t ask me how it works— I’m not a scientist— but it’s pretty damn impressive.”

The idea of a “dream hotel” sounded fake, but Sampo could have said anything, and Gepard would have no way of telling whether it was real or fake. So, rather than trying, he tried his best to wrap his head around it.

“So, at this hotel, you’re basically lucid dreaming?” He’d heard of the concept a few times when he was a child. Lynx had lucid dreams sometimes, and she always talked about them with infectious enthusiasm. She told tales of flying in the sky, climbing the highest cliffs, and traveling deep into the center of the planet. Gepard’s imagination had never been vivid, and he would admit to himself that he was a little jealous of his younger sister.

Sampo nodded, his smile widening. “Right on the money there, Gep!” His face was beginning to turn red as blood rushed to his head. “It’s fun and all, but I prefer reality.”

Gepard stood up and walked over, sighing and extending his hand. Sampo eagerly took it, performing an oddly graceful turn so he was sitting in the chair properly. He wobbled slightly, visibly disoriented by the blood rushing back to his body, but he remained upright.

“Thanks, Captain,” Sampo said with a wink. “You’re a real gentleman!” Gepard rolled his eyes, then sat back down and leaned forward.

“Tell me more. Please.”

And Sampo did. For a man who had caused so much fuss for the sake of remaining “mysterious,” he didn’t put up much of a fight anymore. The cat was already out of the bag, Gepard supposed, so there was little point in being cagey.

Gepard listened intently, hanging on Sampo’s every word. He would never tell a soul about it, but he was actually enjoying the criminal’s company. Sampo was a talented storyteller, even if he was obviously omitting specific names and activities.

He had been right— most of what Sampo said went right over Gepard’s head. Still, the blond tried to commit details to memory. Golden Hour, the legend of the Watchmaker, the tavern Sampo apparently frequented. All of it was like nothing he had ever heard of before.

Gepard had understood why Serval had wanted to leave Belobog a long time ago, but he hadn’t fully grasped the wanderlust that seemed to plague both of his sisters. Jarilo-VI had always seemed too big to him, and the universe was absolutely incomprehensible.

Here, though, listening to Sampo’s passionate explanation of human-sized pinball machines— a device that seemed insanely dangerous to Gepard— he could understand a little better. Gepard was, and always would be a homebody, but it was hard not to be affected by Sampo’s infectious enthusiasm.

It helped that Gepard was finally learning more about Sampo. He had a life outside of Belobog, and it was so vast, it made Gepard feel small. Sampo had been to so many places, met more people than the entire population of Belobog. He wasn’t just a petty criminal. He was an actor, a traveler, a man who stopped and joined street performances at random.

He liked snakes and lemon cake and margaritas on the rocks. He had friends. He showed Gepard a picture he had taken of two people, one with neon green streaks in her hair, and the other with a sullen expression and dark clothes. Several photos of a woman with a fox mask that Sampo said stole his phone, deleting the pictures with visible annoyance. None of these people, places, or things belonged on Jarilo-VI.

Sampo didn’t belong.

Gepard swallowed a lump in his throat and cleared his throat when Sampo paused to catch his breath. Green eyes looked at him inquisitively, and he sighed. “Why are you here,” he asked, his mouth suddenly dry. “Why do you stay in Belobog?” For some reason, he didn’t think he would like the answer.

Sampo froze, almost imperceptibly, before leaning forward with a slight frown. “Why are you asking me that?” Gepard hated the solemn atmosphere that he had created, but he didn’t want to distract himself by trying to make the conversation lighter.

“Everything out there…” Gepard pointed toward the ceiling. “It seems more… I don’t know, exciting for you. You have a life. Why did you leave it behind?”

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Sampo’s expression was uncharacteristically thoughtful, staring directly into Gepard’s eyes. It almost seemed like he wasn’t going to answer, until he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“I didn’t leave my life behind,” he said quietly. “I just took it with me. I can’t tell you why I came, but I stayed because I like it here. Is that so hard to believe?”

“…Yeah. It is.” Gepard pursed his lips into a thin line. “You aren’t unwelcome here, I just don’t understand.”

Of all the reactions Sampo could have had, Gepard had not expected him to blush. It was faint, but it was there, and he turned his head away to hide it. “Aw,” Sampo cooed, “I’m welcome in Belobog? That’s so sweet.”

“You are. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a citizen here, and you’re part of the community.” Natasha had, in Sampo’s words, “blown a gasket” when Gepard told her where the criminal was. He’d complained about how long she had yelled at him for, but both Gepard and Sampo knew that it came from a place of love.

“D’aw, you flatter me.” Sampo fanned himself, still turned away from Gepard. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, y’know?”

Gepard decided to take the plunge. “I’m not trying to flatter you,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve been thinking it over, and… I’d like to rework the conditions of our deal.”

He had tossed and turned the night before, trying to figure out what he was going to say. He knew Sampo well enough by then to know how to catch his attention, but talking to the criminal would still be difficult when it came to negotiations.

Sampo’s gaze sharpened when Gepard brought out a thick stack of credits and held it out. “You deserve higher pay for your services,” Gepard said with a rush of breath. “And… I don’t think it would be fair of me to arrest you after everything you’ve done.”

The look of utter shock on Sampo’s face was worth the nerves and guilt Gepard felt over changing his mind. Lips parted, eyes wide, and face flushed. Sampo looked from the money to Gepard, then back to the money. He accepted it quickly, like it was too good to be true, and the credits would evaporate if he took too long.

“One hundred thousand,” Gepard said quietly. “That brings your total pay to three hundred and twenty-five thousand. I’m open to further negotiations if—“

“Why?” Sampo’s voice was firm, his jaw clenched not with anger, but like he was holding something back. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because despite my better judgment, I… ended up thinking of you as a friend.”

The last word hung in the air, and Gepard almost wished he could snatch it back. He didn’t want to scare Sampo off, and he especially didn’t want this absolutely devastating information to leak to anyone. Despite his words, Gepard still didn’t fully trust Sampo not to sell him out. He wasn’t an idiot, and he knew a potential scandal involving the Landau family would be profitable.

Then, suddenly, Sampo broke out into a grin. It was different than usual, wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. Before Gepard could respond, he was pulled up from his seat on the couch and into an aggressive handshake.

“Well, now, here I thought I’d never see the day!” Sampo threw his hands into the air, then clapped them together. His usual smarmy grin was peeking through, but it was overpowered by the genuine excitement coloring his features. Sampo was happy about this, Gepard realized with numb shock.

“Look at us! Koski and Landau, dynamic duo, best of buds!” Sampo ruffled Gepard’s hair and laughed when he was glared at in return. The man was overjoyed, but not enough to stop being a smug little shit.

Gepard snorted, trying to hold back a smile of his own. “I take it back,” he said flatly. “You’re too excited.”

“Too late, Gep! I’m gonna hold this over your head forever!” Sampo let out a cackle and sprinted across the room before Gepard could grab him. It was silly and childish, but Gepard chased after him with a smile. This was the first time in weeks Gepard had gotten a moment to breathe, and he found himself taking full advantage of it.

It was almost funny how Sampo was both the cause and cure for his stress.

Chapter Text

“That could sell for a good two hundred credits.” Gepard elbowed Sampo in the side, earning a sleazy grin in response. “What? I’m being honest! I might as well use my expert appraisal skills when I can!”

The Belobog Museum was quiet, but that was to be expected. The employees were strict about maintaining a respectful atmosphere. Gepard caught an attendant glaring at him and Sampo and gave an apologetic wave before turning back to his companion.

Sampo was in disguise, of course, clinging to Gepard’s arm. Synthetic hairs from Sampo’s wig tickled his skin, but he didn’t try to pull away. Aside from the closeness, Gepard was enjoying Sampo’s company.

It was easier to be in public with the man now. In the end, Gepard supposed he’d made the right decision. Admitting Sampo was his friend had been embarrassing, but overall it was a net positive. Acting like an attentive boyfriend was much less difficult when he actually liked the person he was pretending to date.

Sampo didn’t seem to behave any differently, though, to Gepard’s chagrin. He supposed the other man had always been a better actor, but he was still a little miffed that he was the only one who was relieved. Aside from the teasing, Sampo appeared unaffected by Gepard’s admission.

Sampo pointed to a newer addition to the museum, a painting filled with vivid reds and yellows to capture the Belobogian sunset. “People are really making use of interplanetary trade,” he commented. “Pigments like that would’ve been hard to come by only a year ago. It’s a shame. The IPC’s gonna put me out of business.”

“And I will celebrate the day it does.” Sampo gasped dramatically, swatting Gepard’s arm. It made a muffled metallic clank that earned the pair another glare from a fellow patron nearby. Gepard shushed Sampo, pulling him along to the next exhibit— an old wind instrument made of twisting metal and a large open horn.

Before either could get the chance to look at the installation for too long, Gepard heard a gasp from behind him. He turned, freezing in horror when he saw who was approaching. He squeezed Sampo’s arm as a warning, praying he wouldn’t do something stupid.

Of all people who could have been visiting the museum that day, of course it had to be not only Pela, but Lynx as well. The two were arm in arm, Lynx visibly uncomfortable with the people around her. Pela took a longer way around the museum to get to Gepard, avoiding the majority of the crowd.

Sampo noticed their approach when they were about halfway there. He visibly panicked for a moment before composing himself and flashing Gepard a frustrated look. Gepard glared back, trying to communicate that he’d had no idea his sister and her friend would be there.

He had deliberately checked the volunteer roster beforehand to make sure he was avoiding anyone who could cause trouble. Apparently he’d failed to realize that people could visit the museum for fun, not just for work.

Pela made it to the pair a little out of breath, but visibly excited to see Gepard. Behind her, Lynx silently watched her older brother and Sampo, glaring at the latter suspiciously. Gepard cleared his throat in an attempt at redirecting her attention.

“Hello, Pela,” he said. “Lynx, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you’d be back in town.” He received a shrug in return.

“I’m just here for today,” Lynx explained. “I saw Serval earlier. I planned on visiting you, but here you are.”

“It’s a nice surprise,” Pela interjected, adjusting her glasses. She redirected her attention toward Sampo, who squeezed Gepard’s shoulder tensely despite the calm expression he wore.

Pela extended her arm, a little too enthusiastically, before drawing it back slightly with visible embarrassment. “You must be Gepard’s… girlfriend?” She paused. “Partner? Uh, sorry, you might not be official. But anyway, I’m Pela, Gepard’s coworker!”

Sampo took the shorter woman’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Girlfriend‘s fine,” he said, sending Gepard a teasing wink that made Lynx’s lip curl with disgust. “The name’s Brughel, don’t wear it out!”

Gepard felt his face warm. He still wasn’t used to calling Sampo his friend, let alone his girlfriend. At least he wasn’t stammering over the word anymore, as he had when they’d made it “official,” but getting flustered was never a pleasant feeling.

He sighed and gave Pela and Lynx a tense smile. “So, what brings you two here,” he whispered, internally smacking himself for asking such an obvious question. Lynx blinked, shooting Gepard a dry look.

“Art, obviously,” she said flatly. “And history.”

“And art history!” Pela exclaimed, grinning widely. “I have the day off, so I invited Lynx with me. It’s nice to see you finally taking advantage of your days off too!” Her words were genuine, but they didn’t make the implication any less weighty. Gepard cringed when he felt Sampo tug on his arm pointedly.

“Yeah, it’s… nice to get away sometimes,” Gepard said halfheartedly. He wasn’t exactly lying, but being called out was unpleasant. It didn’t help that Sampo would definitely tease him about his work habits later.

Lynx raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Gepard and Sampo. She hadn’t greeted Sampo properly, but that was just how she operated. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when she bluntly asked a question with no thought spared for politeness, but Gepard still felt his heart skip a beat when she did.

“Have I met you?” Lynx narrowed her eyes. “You look familiar.” Next to Gepard, Sampo laughed, the tightness of his voice betraying his nerves.

“I’m sure I’d remember meeting you,” he said casually. “The Landaus are a big name, after all! Besides, Gepard told me you’re usually out of town. I’d have loved to meet you sooner, but I understand having a busy schedule.”

Gepard dared to glance at his partner, searching for any signs of fear in his face. True to what he often claimed, Sampo was a good actor. If Gepard didn’t know him any better, he would have never guessed that Brughel Poisson was lying.

Lynx shook her head. Landaus were famously stubborn, and not for the first time, Gepard wished his younger sister hadn’t inherited that particular trait. This time, though, rather than her safety, he was more worried about Sampo’s.

“I’ve definitely seen you before,” Lynx insisted. “Not on the tabloids, Pela, I know you’re gonna ask.” Pela shut her mouth, her cheeks turning slightly pink. It had been her fault Lynx had found out about Gepard’s relationship, after all.

Lynx took a step closer, ignoring the increasingly frustrated attempts of the flustered museum staff to get her to quiet down. Sampo did not back down, tilting his head to give the impression of confusion.

“Lynxy, I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Sampo said. Gepard winced at the over-familiarity. Lynx mirrored his movements, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Sampo scrambled to backtrack, but it was too late.

Gepard could see the exact moment something clicked in Lynx’s head. Her eyes suddenly grew wide, and she turned to Pela, whispering something in her ear. The shorter girl frowned, then whispered something back. Gepard tuned them out deliberately, turning toward Sampo, who looked rather worse for wear.

His makeup concealed the paleness of his face, but it couldn’t get rid of the sudden clammy sweat on his neck. Without thinking, Gepard removed Sampo’s hand from his arm and gave it a squeeze, hoping to reassure. He received a surprised glance in return, Sampo’s lips parted as if he wanted to ask something.

He was interrupted by Lynx, who grabbed Gepard’s arm and pulled him away. Gepard stammered a demand to be released, but Lynx ignored him. Together, the siblings left Pela and Sampo behind. Gepard caught one more glimpse of worried green eyes before he was pulled into the lobby and into the storage room.

Lynx closed the door behind her, quickly checking the room for employees before turning back to Gepard with her hands on her hips. “So,” she said, her voice stern. “Were you going to tell me your girlfriend is the Belobog Snowman? Or was I going to have to find that out myself?”

Gepard’s heart sank. “Wh-what?” He couldn’t pull himself together enough to lie convincingly. “How did—“

“I knew it!” Lynx jabbed a finger into Gepard’s sternum, pushing him backward against the door. “You lied to me!”

“Lynx, please, I’m sorry.” Gepard’s chest felt like it was about to burst. The room felt too small, and his sister was too close. His only lifeline was outside, and really, said lifeline probably wouldn’t be able to help anyway. Sampo’s presence would only make things worse.

Lynx shook her head, exasperated. “You went behind my back and dated Sampo Koski, Gepard! Sorry doesn’t fix it!”

“I’m not— we aren’t—“ Gepard’s breath caught in his chest, and he could’ve sworn his arm went numb. This was the worst case scenario, and he didn’t know what to do. Lynx told Pela everything, and while Pela was good at keeping secrets, it was only a matter of time before things got leaked. After that, rumors would spread like wildfire, and when they reached the ears of Gepard’s parents…

Lynx was pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You motherfucker, you and Serval both lied! I knew something was fishy, but this is a betrayal like no other!” She paused and pointed an accusatory finger toward Gepard, a scowl on her face.

“I knew you were gay!”

Gepard blinked, his panic fizzling out as it was replaced with pure shock. “What?” His face was burning. “Lynx, what?”

Lynx threw her hands up into the air in frustration. “If you wanted to kiss a man, you didn’t have to lie about it!” She gestured wildly toward the door, past Gepard. It was rare to see her so animated, but apparently Gepard’s love life was enough to drive her into a frenzy.

“Why does Serval get to know and not me?!” Lynx pouted, puffing out her chest. “You know I’m gay too, you dick!”

Gepard finally managed to gather his thoughts, shaking his head to clear it. “I— Lynx, that isn’t what’s going on,” he insisted, gesturing for her to lower her voice. His face was still red-hot, but he hadn’t sweated through his shirt yet, thankfully. He was glad he’d had the foresight to wear black.

Another glare from his younger sister. “Then what is going on,” she asked accusingly, “because from my perspective, it looks like you don’t trust me.”

“That’s not…” Gepard took a deep breath. “Look, I’ll explain, but first you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not even Pela, okay?” He stared his sister down, hoping she understood the gravity of the question.

Lynx frowned, but she relented. “Fine. I swear on my honor as a Landau.” Gepard allowed himself to relax a little at that. Lynx had never cared much about the family name, but she hadn’t been effectively cast out like Serval. Maybe Gepard took the phrase a little too literally, but his logic reassured him nonetheless.

He braced himself for mockery, or worse, disappointment, and sighed. “We’re not… actually dating,” he admitted awkwardly. “I wanted to get Mom and Dad off my back, and Serval said she knew a guy, so…”

Lynx stared at Gepard blankly. Her expressions were often hard to read, but Gepard got the sense that she was holding back a snort. Rather than laughing, though, she just blinked and let out a flat “what?”

Gepard winced. “Don’t judge me,” he pleaded. “It was… stupid, in hindsight, but it’s worked out okay so far. Other than him actually meeting our parents, but Mom and Dad agreed to retry that.”

Lynx’s laugh finally escaped her throat. “That really is stupid,” she snorted. “So you’re paying him? He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would take jobs for free.”

The youngest Landau had technically never met Sampo as himself. Gepard still regularly texted her about him, to warn her of his movements. Not that he had ever been much of a danger, but it was always good to be careful. As a result, Lynx seemed to have a good grasp on Sampo’s character, or at least the parts that were relevant to her.

Gepard nodded, resigned to his fate at this point. “He’s been a big help,” he admitted. “I also… don’t exactly mind his company. As long as he isn’t doing anything illegal, that is.”

Lynx appeared unimpressed. “You do know fraud is illegal, right?” Gepard’s ears reddened, and he sputtered defensively. Lynx held up her hand with a smirk. “I’m messing with you,” she said smugly. “But seriously, how long are you gonna keep this up? From what I know, it’s been months. There’s no way you’re sticking with him forever.” She paused. “Unless you’re lying to me again,” she said with a glare.

Gepard could feel his blush spreading down his neck. “I promise you, I’m not,” he said. “I just didn’t want Mom and Dad to know.” The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that he didn’t know how long he wanted to keep pretending for.

When he’d first hired Sampo, the conditions had been that they end things after a month or two. Two months were almost up, and yet neither seemed to want to stop. At least, Gepard didn’t. The idea of ending things felt wrong, like an icy hand had curled around his heart and was squeezing the life out of him.

He didn’t like the thought of ending their partnership. Logically, he knew they could still be friends, but he would have to compromise so many of his morals for it. Sampo would go back to his criminal ways, Gepard would go back to trying to arrest him eventually, even with their new arrangement. None of that seemed right.

Gepard sighed and looked at Lynx tiredly. “We’ll end it eventually,” he said, the words ringing false. “Stage a breakup, or something. Just… trust me to handle it, okay?”

Lynx pursed her lips, an expression that ran in the family. She resembled their mother in that moment, in a way that was so striking, it was scary. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t expect me to let this go anytime soon. I’m going to make fun of you forever.”

Gepard grimaced. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.” Finally, Lynx let him go, allowing him to open the door and step out. When he did, he nearly ran face-first into Sampo, who was doing his best to look innocent. Pela stood next to him, her face red as a tomato. She, too, tried to look innocent, but she was a much worse actor.

Dread filling his stomach, Gepard stared at the two in alarm. “Were you two spying on us?!” Next to him, Lynx glared at Pela, who turned her face away in shame.

Sampo shrugged, shooting Gepard a harsh look that took him aback for a moment. “You were taking too long,” he said. “This little lady wanted to see if Lynxy was okay, and obviously I had to tag along to see if our cover would be blown.”

Gepard covered his face with embarrassment. The cat was out of the bag, it seemed, and Sampo was visibly not happy about it. What did I do to deserve this, he asked Qlipoth, knowing they would not answer him. Aeons rarely spared mortals a second glance, and they certainly did not do so to save said mortals from humiliation.

The hall outside the storage room was mostly empty, luckily, though the museum staff were getting increasingly frustrated, by the looks on their faces. Gepard tried to gather up the pieces of his dignity, gesturing for the group to leave. It took a bit of insistence and promises to explain, but they agreed.

As soon as they were away from any sort of crowd, Pela piped up. “I’m so sorry,” she said frantically. “I just wanted to see if you were alright, but then I heard Koski’s name, and…” She glanced up at Sampo, blinking, then looked back away. Her face was noticeably redder. Gepard really didn’t feel like addressing that.

Sampo had dropped his falsetto, but he looked less like himself than ever. Gepard hated seeing him annoyed, and he hated that he was the cause of his distress even more. It turned out that outwardly being friends made those particular feelings worse.

Sampo didn’t seem to be too angry, though, as his glare vanished after a moment. It was replaced by a resigned smile, and he sighed as he turned to Pela.

“Well,” he said, “no use in hiding it now. So, ladies, what can I do to buy your silence?” Lynx raised an eyebrow at Gepard, who shrugged. He didn’t know Pela well enough to determine her price, and he hated bribery anyway.

Pela shuffled nervously. “I-I wouldn’t want to leak personal information,” she insisted. “But, well… if you’re offering—“

”Sergeyevna.” Gepard technically had little authority over Pela compared to his soldiers, but she snapped to attention anyway, shutting her mouth. Quietly, she pulled out her notebook, scribbled something down, and handed it over to Sampo before speaking again.

“I am truly sorry,” she said. “All of you deserve an apology. My lips are completely sealed, though. I’m an intelligence officer, after all.” She adjusted her glasses, visibly proud.

Sampo seemed to relax, his usual grin returning to his face as he read what Pela wrote. “Pleasure doing business with you, Pela,” he said, tucking the slip of paper into his coat pocket. Gepard wanted to scold the two of them, but Pela was already taking Lynx’s hand and beginning to walk away.

“It really was nice seeing you,” Pela said. “Your secret is safe, I promise!” Lynx nodded, silent as usual. Even if she wasn’t much of a talker, Gepard could read her well. He trusted his sister, especially knowing that she wouldn’t want him to suffer like Serval did when she came out.

Gepard banished the thought. He still wasn’t sure if the idea of coming out applied to him. It was best not to dwell on this when he had more important things to worry about. Things like Sampo, who was grabbing his hand and leading him away from the retreating women while waving goodbye.

“Call me later,” Lynx shouted. Gepard internally promised he would before he was suddenly pulled into a side alley and effectively cornered.

Of all the things Sampo could have said, he ended up saying what Gepard least expected. “Are you okay?” He wiped his forehead, his foundation rubbing off on his gloves. He frowned and scraped the glove down the brick wall, trying to clean it. “I wasn’t expecting her to corner you like that. Had me all worried.”

Gepard stared at Sampo in shock. “You’re not… mad?” Sampo scoffed, flapping his hand dismissively.

“Nah,” he said. “Stressed, though? Yeah. Man, this was supposed to be fun…” He looked up, like he was talking to the sky. When he looked back down, his greasy smile was at full strength, and Gepard nearly sighed with relief.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t expect Lynx to figure you out.”

“Eh, your sisters are clever.” Sampo poked Gepard’s nose, laughing when he instinctively scrunched up his face. “I’m just glad your parents aren’t.”

”Hey.” Sampo laughed harder, dodging Gepard’s attempt at a revenge poke. He held up his hands defensively, then offered one hand for Gepard to take. The blond obliged, allowing himself to be dragged out of the alley and down the street.

He wanted to be happy that Sampo wasn’t angry. He was, to a degree, but now that the earlier situation was resolved, his stress returned at full force. It twisted his stomach into knots as he thought back to his and Lynx’s conversation.

How long did Gepard want to keep this going? More importantly, how long did Sampo want to? He didn’t seem unhappy— in fact, he appeared to be quite the opposite. However, he was an excellent actor, and even if he considered Gepard a friend, their fake relationship couldn’t last forever.

Gepard did not like how much he hated the idea of that.

Chapter Text

Pretending to date Sampo wasn’t supposed to be complicated. He was being paid for a service, after all, and Gepard was just his client. His client-turned-friend, but their arrangement was still purely transactional. Or at least, it should have been.

It felt far less so recently, especially now that Lynx and Pela knew. More and more, Gepard wondered what the point of continuing was. Ignoring how he felt about the matter, there was little he gained from their agreement. His parents had long since left him alone, aside from occasional texts asking about whether Brughel wanted to meet or not. Nobody else really even cared about who Gepard dated.

No, that wasn’t accurate. Everyone cared about who the Landaus dated, because they were, according to Serval, the “total package.” They were rich, influential, and respectable. Anyone with half a brain would want a way into the family, or at least to be partnered with them.

Still, even if there was a scandal, would Gepard’s life really be over? As time went on, he found that his anxieties lessened more and more. A large part of that was because of Sampo’s steady presence.

Gepard had to remind himself that he really did not want to deal with a scandal. His life wouldn’t fall apart, sure, but it was still more trouble than what it was worth. He could just break up with Brughel Poisson, seem upset about it for a few weeks, and then move on, and nobody would know.

Except, the more Gepard insisted to himself that he had to end things, the less he wanted to do it. It made no sense to him. He and Sampo could continue to be friends outside of their arrangement, even if it would be harder, so Gepard should not have been filled with dread at the thought of stopping it.

He would miss the openness of his relationship with Brughel, he supposed. He would have to sneak around if he wanted to spend time with Sampo, which made the reality of the situation heavier. Gepard was actively going against the law, and although he was willing to break the letter of the law for the greater good, the rest of Belobog had nothing to gain from his friendship with Sampo.

He would also miss how Sampo clung to him when acting as Brughel. He wouldn’t admit it, but the contact was nice. He doubted Sampo would be willing to hug him and touch him so much when they weren’t putting on a show. Maybe Gepard was touch starved, and it would get better once he was re-acclimated to physical contact. That didn’t change how empty his heart felt when he thought about breaking things off.

Gepard was certain there was something wrong with him. He should not be so drawn to a criminal, and yet he felt like the tides being gently tugged toward the moon. He couldn’t deny that seeing Sampo at the top of his messages in the morning made him smile. Things were getting dangerously familiar between the two of them, but for the life of him, Gepard couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

His feelings were getting messy, and he knew it would only cause trouble. Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to be on his side, as it wasn’t long after Lynx found out his secret that Gepard’s father texted him.

Father: Your mother and I are hosting a party in two weeks. We would like for you and your partner to attend.

While this wasn’t the worst case scenario, it still came at a very bad time. Gepard would have been fine if this had happened a week or two earlier. His feelings were less complicated then, and everything was normal between him and Sampo. Now, Gepard would have to stress about the party and his confusing feelings.

If Gepard knew his father at all, then he was likely going to use this party as an opportunity to reassess Brughel as a potential suitor. Of course, he would apologize for his previous behavior in person, but Lionel Landau was not one to let his assumptions go so easily.

The whole event would be Hell for Gepard’s blood pressure, not to mention the weeks leading up to it. It was almost funny how easy it was to stress so much about petty social performances, compared to life-threatening danger. At least on the Snow Plains, Gepard knew all of the threats that could come his way. Social environment were far less predictable.

Gepard really, really did not want to deal with the party, but it was unavoidable. He couldn’t exactly decline the invitation, not without damaging his parents’ reputations and making them dislike Brughel even more. It wouldn’t even be “her” fault, but Gepard knew she would be blamed somehow.

Part of Gepard screamed that these thoughts were unfair to his parents. Perhaps they were. Still, they would not leave, even when Gepard sat in a park in the Overworld, holding Sampo’s hand as they drank hot soup from styrofoam cups.

“I think it’ll be fun,” Sampo said, leaning into Gepard’s arm. “Rich people parties are boring, yeah, but the booze will be great.”

Gepard sighed. “Please do not get drunk at this party,” he begged tiredly. “We need to make this go as smoothly as possible so my heart doesn’t give out from the stress.”

“Oh, please, you’re not that old,” Sampo teased. “Since you’re dating me, you’re practically a nursing home robber.” He put on a wavering, crackly voice, performing an impression of an old man. “My heart could explode at any minute…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how heart attacks work.” Gepard snorted, a tiny smile slipping through the cracks of his anxiety. “You know what I mean, though. I just want them to leave us alone.”

Sampo chuckled, taking a long sip of his soup. When he was done, he tossed the cup behind him. Gepard would have scolded Sampo for littering, if the cup didn’t land perfectly in an uncovered trash can.

A comfortable silence stretched between the two. Gepard focused on finishing his soup, chewing on the carrots he managed to catch as he drank. He thought of his parents, grimacing when images of the last party he had attended flashed in his head. It hadn’t been an entirely unpleasant experience, but he had been stressed the entire time.

It had always been hard for Gepard to socialize at those fancy events. He had memorized the rules a long, long time ago, but applying them was still hard. Everyone else made it look so effortless. He knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t help but feel he was the only one actually putting on a mask and pretending to be someone else. Of course, everyone else was, too, but knowing that was different from feeling it.

At least he wouldn’t be alone this time. Sampo may have been a good actor, but Brughel was, fundamentally, just a mask. Gepard wouldn’t have to feel like he was an impostor for once, and the thought was oddly comforting. Before he knew it, he found himself relaxing slightly as he finished his own cup of broth.

He sighed again, leaning his head against the back of the bench. “…This is going to suck,” he said defeatedly. He felt a hand reach for his, and his breath hitched before Sampo’s fingers closed around his cup. He let the other man take it, refusing to turn his head. He could feel his face burning, and he would rather die than get teased about it.

He heard a soft thud. “Damn, I missed,” Sampo huffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it. I’m not a litterer.” He stood, walking away quickly. Gepard stared at the sky, pressing his lips together and resisting the urge to touch his empty hand to his chest.

What is wrong with me? The more he wanted to believe he was just lonely, or touch starved, the less true it seemed. Feelings of touch starvation were supposed to go away with more contact, not intensify. Yes, Gepard was a loner in terms of his private life, but he had his sisters, and now he had Sampo. If he wanted to stretch things a little, he had Bronya as well. He wasn’t just desperate for attention.

He wanted to believe that that was it so badly. Everything was too complicated and confusing now. If he thought about it for too long, he would put the pieces together, and he did not want that. He couldn’t handle that, not when he was so stressed.

He would just unpack his feelings after the party. That was the perfect solution. He wasn’t running away from his problems, he was just scheduling them for another day. He could only stress about a few things at a time, after all. Adding more onto the pile would snap him in two.

He shoved his feelings down, trying to regain his composure. He could hear Sampo returning, whistling a jaunty tune, and Gepard needed to act normally. The blond looked up right as Sampo made his way to his side of the bench, offering a perfectly manicured hand.

“You got your nails done,” Gepard commented, his voice too rough for his own liking. Sampo grinned, pulling Gepard up when he accepted.

“Yeah, it feels nice.” Sampo did not let go of Gepard’s hand, even as they began to walk. “You should try it sometime. It’s relaxing, and Aeons know you need to relax.” He bumped Gepard’s hip playfully, laughing when he saw the taller man’s expression. “Case in point,” he said, gesturing to Gepard’s face. “You look like a tomato.”

Well, there went Gepard’s dignity. He groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “Please, don’t do this,” he mumbled. “I’m just… feeling off, okay? No need to tease me.”

“Awww, Gep.” Sampo’s tone was just as smug as before, but he had the decency not to physically tease again. “Alright, alright. Oh, we’re taking a left here.”

Gepard hadn’t actually been paying attention to where they were going. He did as Sampo said, trying to take a peek at the street sign above. He frowned, taking note of his surroundings. He knew this intersection, having visited it a few times. A few members of the more bureaucratic departments of Qlipoth Fort lived there. The commute to the Fort from there was short, and it was easy to navigate compared to the rest of the Overworld’s design.

Gepard looked at Sampo, who kept his eyes trained forward. “Where are we going,” he asked. “There’s nothing interesting this way.”

“Oh, I have a delivery to make.” Sampo reached into the large messenger bag he was carrying, producing a small package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Upon seeing Gepard’s suspicious expression, Sampo rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to be delivering illegal goods in broad daylight with the Silvermane Captain right next to me, Gep.” The package disappeared into the bag again. “Besides, I’m clean until we break up. Any potential client would have to beat your price, anyway, and most people willing to buy my services can’t afford that.”

Gepard glared at Sampo. “Do you have to be so casual,” he said. “I don’t need more reminders of what you do for a living.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Sampo tugged Gepard through a right turn, then a left, arriving at a familiar apartment building. There were only two apartments, one on the top floor, and one on the bottom. Gepard’s interest was piqued now, and he realized why they were there.

Pela lived in the second floor apartment. It was possible that Sampo was heading for the lower floor, but Gepard doubted it. Sure enough, he was lead around the side of the building to the stairs. It was pretty clear what Sampo was doing, now.

Gepard was left a couple of steps lower than Sampo, due to how narrow the stairs were. Sampo knocked on the door confidently. It was a bit late in the evening, and it was a weekend, so Pela was likely to be home. Gepard heard her footsteps shuffling quickly, and soon, a warm glow illuminated the top of the stairs as the door was opened.

Pela was dressed casually in a thick sweater and leggings, and she seemed taken aback to see Sampo in his disguise. She adjusted her glasses and greeted him before lowering her voice.

“Do you… have it?” She whispered, looking around suspiciously. When she noticed Gepard on the stairs, she jumped, her expression shifting into one of mild horror. Sampo moved in front of Gepard, blocking his view.

“Don’t worry, Miss Sergeyevna,” Sampo said reassuringly. “He’s just here because we have plans later. He isn’t going to do anything.” As if sensing Gepard’s apprehension, Sampo addressed him next. “Don’t get your shorts in a twist, Captain. This isn’t illegal!”

Only a few weeks before, Gepard would have doubted Sampo. Now, though, he stood down. He trusted Pela, and admittedly, he now trusted Sampo. He watched the two exchanged hushed whispers, and it wasn’t long before the wrapped parcel changed hands.

Pela unwrapped it just enough to peek at what was inside. Upon seeing the apparent authenticity of whatever it was, her eyes lit up and she grinned so wide, her chapped lips split. “Thank you, Mr. Cold-Feet,” she breathed. “Thank you so much! I’ll… no, wait, I won’t see you later. Just… thank you!”

“Anytime, Miss Sergeyevna,” Sampo said with a tiny bow. Gepard knew that if he’d had more room, he would have made the gesture far more dramatic. Not quite knowing what to do, Gepard gave Pela a little nod of acknowledgement, waving farewell after. She returned the gesture, and quietly closed her door.

Gepard waited until he reached the bottom of the stairs to confront Sampo. “What exactly did you deliver to her? I know you struck a deal to buy her silence, and Pela wouldn’t ask for anything dangerous, but I’d prefer not to be left out of things.”

Sampo sighed, brushing his wig away from his eyes. The black synthetic hairs were starting to get a bit tangled from wear and tear, but it still looked absolutely stunning on him.

“It’s nothing huge,” Sampo said. “There’s no need to get worked up, but you have a point.” He hooked his arm around Gepard’s casually, hanging on like the prosthetic was a lifeline. “You’re involved with this too, so it’s only fair you know.”

It took a considerable— and frankly, embarrassing— amount of effort for Gepard to focus on anything other than how Sampo was holding onto him. He had himself under control. Sampo had done this before, and so Gepard could handle it. Quickly, he forced himself to pay attention and ignore the feelings that he did not want to unpack.

Sampo began his explanation, mercifully pulling away slightly so he could walk more easily. “Y’know that series Pela loves so much?” Gepard nodded, and Sampo grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well, I’m proud to say that Sampo Koski has found… unreleased copies of the tenth volume!”

Gepard processed the information, then glared at Sampo. “Those books are banned, Koski,” he grumbled. “You said this isn’t illegal.”

“It’s not!” Sampo held up his hands defensively, finally letting go of Gepard’s arm. “Just because the stores can’t stock them anymore, doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to get your hands on them. The ban doesn’t say anything about trading!”

“That’s a ridiculous loophole.”

“Yeah, well, Belobog’s book ban rules are way more relaxed than most other places. Take it up with Miss Rand.” Sampo stuck out his tongue childishly, and Gepard rolled his eyes. It was slightly embarrassing, but few people were around, and nobody really paid attention to other people so soon after lunch. They were too busy trying to get back to work.

Despite this, Gepard remained silent until they turned the corner onto a quieter street. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that Sampo was technically correct. He wasn’t overly familiar with the book ban law, but since the trading of Tales of the Winterlands was an open secret, nobody actually cared either way.

“…You know she would have kept the secret for free,” Gepard said quietly. “You didn’t have to trade anything.”

Sampo shrugged, staring straight ahead even when Gepard turned to look at him. His bangs covered his eyes. “I don’t like owing people,” he said. Something in his voice sounded off, but Gepard didn’t pry. He could understand Sampo’s feelings on the matter, after all.

Gepard looked down at Sampo’s hand, swinging next to him. It really looked perfect. Whoever had done his nails had done a good job. Gepard’s hand never looked that clean or soft. His was hardened by battles and training, and the other hand wasn’t even real.

Before he could squash the impulse, Gepard reached for Sampo’s hand. He felt the other man flinch, and before he could apologize, Sampo relaxed. Gepard tried to banish the warmth that flooded his body, only to fail miserably. The only thing that saved his dignity was biting his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“I think you owe me something,” Gepard said lightheartedly. Sampo looked at him with a frown, and he snorted. “Since you’re so determined to buy everyone’s silence, why don’t you buy mine? You’re paying for dinner.”

Sampo gasped, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “Such cruelty! Extorting a lady? Have you no shame?”

Gepard laughed, finally allowing himself to smile. He had to admit it— Sampo had successfully managed to make him relax. He was still worried about the party, but at least it would be bearable with a friend by his side. He could make it. He had to.

Chapter Text

The initial plan for the day was to go to lunch, but somehow, Gepard had been roped into a hare-brained scheme. Said scheme left him holding several bags, a purse, and a pair of high heels that, frankly, smelled sweaty and disgusting. He tried not to think about that too much.

“Is there a reason why you’re taking me to another store,” he asked with a sigh. Next to him, Sampo was tiptoeing through the street, his feet bare. He had complained about soreness for hours, which was understandable, and then passed his shoes to Gepard without asking for him to help. He acted like he fully expected Gepard to do what he wanted, and annoyingly, he was right every time.

Sampo grinned, pulling on his arm. “For fun, first of all,” he said. “Secondly, it’s not every day I have access to unlimited funds! Thirdly, I don’t have anything fancy enough for a rich people soirée, and you agreed to pay for anything I may need for dates, so there!”

Gepard rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be dragged along. “My funds aren’t unlimited,” he corrected, “but fair enough. I thought you already got what you needed, though.”

Sampo stuck out his tongue petulantly. “I did,” he admitted, “but you need something new, too. Besides, what’s the harm? I know you like shopping, don’t be a party pooper.”

Gepard blushed slightly at the accusation. “I like looking at things through the windows,” he said defensively. “I don’t just spend money like it’s nothing, and I already have nice clothes.”

“If you can afford it, I say you should go for it.” Sampo hurried up the steps to the next shop, visibly desperate to stop walking barefoot on the cold street. “Stimulate the small town economy, or something. And your nice clothes are boring.”

“Belobog isn’t small.” Gepard decided not to respond to Sampo’s last remark, knowing he would only get more annoyed with the other man if he did.

“Psht, not to you.” Sampo pushed open the door to the store, and sighed with relief as warmth washed over the pair. Gepard appreciated the heaters just as much as Sampo, shaking his hand as much as he could to dispel the numbness in his fingers before handing Sampo’s shoes back.

Quietly, Gepard began to survey his surroundings. He was standing in a clothing store he recognized, Isabelle’s Boutique. It was lower-end than what his parents preferred to shop at, but Gepard had always loved its window displays. The owner’s designs were just so charming, he couldn’t help but linger whenever he decided to sate his desire to walk through this district.

As much as he hated to admit it, Gepard did like shopping. It was improper to just throw his money at whatever caught his eye, and he would never stop feeling guilty if he indulged in his impulses. Still, there was something entertaining about running his fingers along every piece of fabric in sight, and seeing anything new that came into stock.

Isabelle’s had been the object of his fascination a few times in the past, though it came and went. Gepard did not want to let this opportunity to spend more time inside pass him by, but he resolved to restrain himself. He couldn’t be impulsive. He just had to pick something to keep Sampo happy.

It wasn’t long before Sampo abandoned Gepard to look at various men’s pants, chatting up the employee working the floor. He was still in earshot, but suddenly, Gepard felt out of his depth. When he went shopping alone, usually he had a strict list to adhere to, that way he didn’t forget something or get anything extra. He hadn’t expected to be purchasing anything for himself today, so he hadn’t made a list.

It was fine, though. He would just look for things he already knew he liked. He had put on a bit of weight, in both muscle and fat, since the last party he had attended, so getting a few copies of his usual shirts couldn’t hurt. At least, as close to copies as he could get.

He grabbed a couple of white button-ups, and a pale blue one for good measure. By the time he was done, Sampo had moved to the other end of the store, where the coats were hung. He was rifling through a few tailcoats, none of which would go with the outfit he’d picked out for the party.

Gepard sighed and walked over. “I only agreed to pay for things you need for dates,” he said sternly. “You’re not getting anything else out of me.”

Sampo didn’t turn around, but Gepard could somehow tell he was smiling. “Who said it was for me?” He settled on a deep blue coat that was lined with black. He pulled it off the rack and held it up to Gepard’s torso, pursing his lips before nodding sharply. “That’s the one, for sure. Here.” He pushed it into Gepard’s arms, forcing the blond to take it before he could refuse.

Gepard stared blankly at Sampo. “I’m not buying this,” he said, though upon touching the coat, he couldn’t help but run his hand down the entire length of the sleeve. The texture was silky and soft, and extremely satisfying. The color wasn’t one he usually wore, but he knew it would look nice.

“You like it,” Sampo said pointedly. “So, you should buy it.”

“It’s not that simple.” Gepard moved to put the coat back, but Sampo stopped him.

“It is, though.” Sampo grabbed Gepard’s arm, leading him away from the coat rack before he could make another attempt at returning the tailcoat. “Y’know, where I’m from, we don’t deprive ourselves of things that make us happy out of some weird sense of selflessness. That’s for the Mourning Actors.”

He grumbled “Mourning Actors” like the term had rotted in his mouth. Gepard quietly took note of it, adding Mourning Actors to the list of people— or he assumed they were people— that Sampo did not like. So far, the list consisted of them, and whoever the mysterious Sparkle was. Not a very long list, for someone who got into so much trouble.

Gepard sighed. “I’m not depriving myself,” he argued. “It just isn’t practical to get a new coat when I already own plenty.” He was sure he could find one that fit if he looked hard enough. He didn’t want to waste time and money on something he didn’t need.

“Counterpoint: you don’t have to need it to get it.” Sampo suddenly addressed the saleswoman he had been talking to earlier, startling her out of resorting one of the women’s shirt racks.

“You agree with me,” he said to the woman, without giving her an option to disagree. “Should he get this coat?” Gepard figured that asking a saleswoman for advice on a purchase was ridiculous, considering how her entire job revolved around selling things. Sure enough, the saleswoman agreed.

“It looks wonderful with your eyes,” she said. To her credit, she seemed genuine. Gepard looked at her name tag, then back up at her with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, Miss Anja,” he said with a soft smile. “My girlfriend is being… weirdly pushy. I’m not interested in purchasing this.” He was already mourning the loss of the coat, but he couldn’t let that show. He did not need it. He could live without it.

“Liar,” Sampo teased, drawing out each syllable in a singsong tone. “You like it! You can afford it! There’s nothing stopping you!”

“Oh my god S— Brughel!” Gepard hoped the saleswoman hadn’t heard his near-mistake. “Can’t you just let this go?”

“Um,” Anja interjected, “if I may, perhaps trying it on would help you make a decision?” She spoke as if Gepard hadn’t already decided, much to his irritation, but before he could object, Sampo was already pushing him toward the dressing room.

“Wonderful idea, Miss!” Sampo practically shoved Gepard into the small room. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” he said with a grin and a wink before closing the door.

Gepard could have just opened the door and dragged Sampo out of the shop to yell at him, but… well, he was already there, and he had the coat in his arms. The material really did feel nice. He wasn’t very good at identifying fabrics, but he was sure he had a coat made of the same material back home. It just wouldn’t be in dark blue.

He was used to dressing in lighter colors, like the shade that had been collectively dubbed “Landau Blue” by the rest of Belobog. It was the color of the family crest, after all, and he had always been forced to match the rest of his family at large events. It was meant to show that they were a unit, inseparable and unwavering if anyone wanted to challenge them.

Gepard had dressed in other colors before, obviously, but not at a family party. He had to admit that the idea was a little appealing. His parents had been behaving like children lately, and it would be satisfying to see them get enraged by this small act of rebellion.

Gepard quietly put on one of the shirts he had picked out, as well as the coat. It did look nice when he saw himself in the mirror. It would probably pair well with black gloves, rather than the usual white ones he wore. He had both, for different occasions, but it had been a while since he’d used his black gloves.

As childish as his parents had been over the past few weeks, Gepard knew that being petty would be even more so. He didn’t want to relish in this sort of rebellion that should have been reserved for his teenaged years. Serval would find it funny when he told her, though, and if Lynx bothered to show up, she would probably think Gepard was cool for it. She’d always seemed to have more fun at events when Serval had acted out, after all.

Gepard sighed and pushed open the door to the changing room, hoping to get this over with before he gave in to his desires. Sampo and Anja were talking, but they immediately stopped when Gepard emerged. Anja gasped, clapping her hands together and grinning, while Sampo just… stared.

“You look wonderful,” Anja exclaimed. “I might have to take in the waist a little bit, but other than that, it’s a perfect fit! I can make those alterations right here, if you don’t mind waiting a little!” Her eyes were practically sparkling, like she expected Gepard to say yes. She even took out a measuring tape and began sizing him up. Her reaction was almost enough to sway him completely.

What sealed his decision, though, was Sampo. The man was practically frozen, and although he wore makeup, Gepard could see a real blush peeking through. In fact, Sampo was getting so red, it was creeping down to his neck.

Realizing he was blushing, Sampo pretended to cough, then coughed for real, clearing his throat to compose himself. Gepard didn’t have the time to process any of this, but the look on Sampo’s face was enough to make him decide that he did, in fact, need the coat.

“You look great,” Sampo said, his voice cracking. He forgot to pitch his voice up, but Anja either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. She just nodded furiously, reaching out with impatient hands. Gepard sighed and removed the coat, giving it to her with a resigned smile. She pumped her fist, then ran into the back of the shop, shouting for the owner, Isabelle herself, to free up a sewing machine.

Gepard moved to stand next to Sampo, chuckling a little at the state of the other man. Sampo’s face was still flushed, though he was calming down rapidly. He refused to look Gepard in the eye, though, even when his skin finally returned to its normal shade.

Unable to resist the urge to tease, Gepard tapped Sampo on the shoulder. “So you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” He grinned even wider when he earned a dramatic whine in response.

“You’re so cruel,” Sampo groaned. “Give me a break, man! It’s not my fault you’re hot!”

“You constantly try to get a rise out of me,” Gepard said, crossing his arms. “It’s only fair that I get to return the favor, Koski.” He refused to let Sampo’s teasing work this time, ignoring the comment about his looks. He was a grown man, and he wouldn’t let his buttons be pushed so easily.

“You’re so cruel,” Sampo mumbled. “I’m literally crying, Gepard. I’m dying of heartbreak.” Gepard laughed, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t be too loud. His heart was hammering in his chest, and even though it was beating so hard it was almost painful, he tried his best to ignore it anyway.

Before Gepard could tease Sampo back, Anja stuck her head through the doorway again. Instinctively, Gepard leaned away from Sampo, wondering when he had gotten so close in the first place. He was so overwhelmed, he feared he might just keel over.

“Oh, sorry,” Anja said with a sly grin. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know that the alterations will take a bit, so you can go grab food or something while you wait!” She scurried away, leaving Gepard and Sampo alone once more.

They had gotten lunch before, as per the original plan, but Gepard had to admit— he didn’t want to sit in the boutique for what could be hours. He didn’t know anything about clothing modifications, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

After changing out of the store’s shirt and into his own, Gepard coaxed Sampo away from his spot. He had to promise to pay for whatever snack Sampo chose to get. It was a shameless bribe, but Gepard didn’t feel too bad about it. He was the one buying everything that day anyway. A few more shield wouldn’t hurt.

Outside, Sampo seemed to perk up, his face relaxing. The cool air banished the last of his blush, which was a shame. Gepard wouldn’t pretend he didn’t like seeing the other man like that.

Stop thinking about it, Gepard scolded himself. He breathed a quiet sigh, letting Sampo guide him away from the high-end fashion stores to a busier street. There were a few stalls parked on the sidewalk, selling hot, salty street food.

Two pretzels and a short walk later, Gepard found himself sitting on a park bench next to Sampo, letting the hot, salted bread warm his hands. Sampo was back to his usual self, rambling happily about the events of the Underworld. Gepard smiled, letting the story wash over him until he was fully relaxed.

Now that he was away from the boutique, he was actually excited about the tailcoat. It was comfortable enough for him to know he wouldn’t mind standing around in it for several hours. He would have to be careful not to fiddle with the fabric too much, since the texture was so satisfying, but he would manage.

Sampo had been right, and somehow, that wasn’t surprising. His idea of fun wasn’t the same as Gepard’s, but he knew the captain well enough to know what he would like. That thought didn’t bother Gepard as much as it would have a month ago.

When Sampo lost steam, taking a break to eat his pretzel, Gepard took the opportunity to speak. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said softly. “I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. I’ll admit, I really did want that coat. It’s just…”

Sampo shrugged. “You’re too uptight,” he said casually. “I get that you have a sense of duty, but you deserve to be happy.”

Gepard suppressed the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach. “That’s very kind of you,” he chuckled. “It’d be kinder if you offered to pay for it, but—“

“Heeey, no fair!” Sampo pouted exaggeratedly. “You said you’d pay, and there’s no take-backs here!”

“I’m kidding.” Gepard gently elbowed Sampo’s bicep. “Who needs to lighten up now?” Sampo gasped like Gepard had just killed his family in front of him, placing a hand over his chest. Gepard laughed, delighting in the whine Sampo made.

They bickered back and forth for a while, finishing their food before making their way back to the boutique. When Gepard hung up the coat that night, perfectly tailored to fit his waist, he found that almost all of his dread had vanished.

For once, he was actually excited for a party.

Chapter Text

Gepard had been to many parties before, but that didn’t make them any less stressful. As he got ready several hours in advance, he ran through an internal checklist of things that needed to be done. Comb his hair, style it, pick out the right gloves, brush his teeth, et cetera.

He was more relaxed than he otherwise would have been, and he had Sampo to thank for that. Knowing he would be there was automatically calming to Gepard now, even though he knew there were so many ways the criminal could ruin the night. He supposed that was the benefit of having a friend there with him.

It was different with his sisters, unfortunately. Growing up, they had been just as uncomfortable as Gepard at the fancy parties their parents had forced them to attend. The collective misery of the Landau siblings was infectious, and they’d had to fight to keep fake smiles on their faces throughout the night.

At least it had given Gepard plenty of practice, in that regard. Briefly, he looked into his bathroom mirror from outside the doorframe and flashed that plastic smile he had tried so hard to perfect all those years ago. He still had it.

His anxiety had vastly overestimated how much time he would need to get ready, unfortunately. He was accustomed to dressing quickly due to his many years in the Silvermane Guards, and he ended up spending over an hour pacing around his room in his dress pants and new coat before throwing patience to the wind and deciding to head over to Sampo’s apartment early.

As he walked through the street, Gepard avoided looking around too much. He didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone who was on the guest list and get trapped in an hours-long conversation. It was only six in the afternoon, but Gepard knew he wouldn’t be the only one getting ready this early. He probably wouldn’t even be the first to arrive, if the guests were as neurotic as he remembered.

When he crossed into Sampo’s part of town— it felt odd to think of it as such, but Gepard couldn’t separate the two in his mind anymore— he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt and looked out of place here, but at least he was away from prying eyes. The street was relatively empty, with most people indoors preparing or eating dinner.

There would be food at the party, so Gepard hadn’t bothered to eat a full meal before heading out. As a result, his stomach growled quietly as he walked up to Sampo’s apartment. Ignoring the sound, he avoided the front door, squeezing through the side alley and making his way to the back of the building.

Gepard figured it would be safer this way. Sampo probably wasn’t in disguise yet, and if he was, he wouldn’t be ready to go. Going through the back door wouldn’t risk Sampo’s privacy as much as using the front door. Or maybe Gepard was just embarrassed, but as far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter either way.

Once he reached the back door, he knocked three times before stepping back to wait. He heard shuffling from inside, followed by a sharp crash and an unintelligible word that might have been a swear, judging by the tone. Footsteps approached, then stopped, but the door didn’t open.

Sampo spoke, his voice muffled by the door. “Go away,” he muttered quietly. “I’m not taking clients right now. And use the official knock, jeez! I have it for a reason!”

Gepard hated any reminders of Sampo’s usual activities, but this time, he couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s me, Koski,” he said, crossing his arms. “I heard that secret knock thing. You’d better not be doing anything illegal.”

After a moment, Gepard heard Sampo fumble with the door. It opened a crack, revealing a single jade-green eye. When Sampo saw that it was, indeed, Gepard, he sighed and opened the door fully, revealing that he was only halfway into his disguise.

He wore an elegant red dress that he had selected on their shopping trip a few days before. It only had one long sleeve. His other shoulder was completely bare, but his long, black gloves covered most of his exposed arm. The dress brushed the tops of Sampo’s feet, tastefully asymmetrical with a slit running up the side opposite his exposed shoulder.

Even though Sampo wasn’t wearing a wig or makeup yet, Gepard still found himself staring. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t fair that Sampo looked so good in dresses. The sight of him made Gepard’s heart race, and he couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Sampo struck a dramatic pose against the doorframe, snapping Gepard out of his flustered spiral. Shaking his head, the Captain sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Just let me in,” Gepard said, opting to ignore the way Sampo’s gaze clung to his chest and waist. He brushed past the other man, allowing Sampo to close the door behind him. The apartment was as barren as ever, though there were a few new things strewn about. A makeup kit sat out on the kitchen counter, and Sampo’s shoes were sitting by the front door.

“You’re here real early,” Sampo commented lightheartedly. “I expected you to get here before we actually need to leave, but this is just absurd.”

Gepard couldn’t really defend himself. He was over an hour early, and while Sampo was clearly giving himself plenty of time to get ready, he was actually being reasonable about it. Gepard sighed, silently vowing to omit exactly how long ago he had gotten dressed.

“I got anxious,” he admitted. “Sorry for intruding.”

“Eh, it’s no biggie.” Sampo grabbed a compact mirror from the kitchen counter and a bottle of what looked like foundation, pulling out one of the worn stools around the counter and sitting down. “I don’t mind the company when it’s you.” Catching sight of Gepard’s flustered expression in the mirror, Sampo winked.

Gepard tried to scowl, but he couldn’t stop a smile from forming on his lips. “Wow,” he teased. “You’ve come a long way from jumping into trash cans just to avoid me, haven’t you?”

Sampo huffed before beginning to apply the makeup, scrunching up his face in weird ways as he spoke to keep the layers even. “Rude,” he accused lightheartedly. “That was one time!”

“Really? Because I distinctly remember it happening at least three.” It had likely been more, but only a few really stuck out in Gepard’s memory. The sight of a grown man rolling at least ten meters down the street in a trash can before finally managing to abscond sure left an impression.

“Nope, no idea what you’re talking about!” Sampo stuck his tongue out briefly, then got back to work. “Now shush. Talking gives me creases.”

“Then don’t talk.” Gepard pulled out a stool of his own, sitting as politely as he could manage. It didn’t feel like the sturdiest seat, but it held his weight just fine despite the creaking of the wood. “I’m sure you can shut up for a few minutes. It won’t kill you.”

Proving Gepard’s point, Sampo pouted silently. Naturally, he worked a lot faster when he wasn’t trying to paint his face and talk at the same time. Gepard couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it as he took out his phone and began to read through work emails.

After a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, Sampo spoke up. “You ever work with wigs?” Gepard looked up from an email about supply distributions. Sampo hadn’t put on much makeup at all, so it seemed he was already done. There was just a hint of blush, natural-looking eyeshadow, and concealer to cover up the eye bags that often came with being almost forty.

He looked nice. He usually did, honestly, when he wasn’t deliberately acting like an idiot. Gepard could appreciate the art of makeup, even if he hated wearing it himself.

Gepard nodded, putting away his phone. “Serval used to perform with them sometimes,” he explained. “It’s been a while, but I remember the basics.”

“Cool. Help me out?” From seemingly out of nowhere, Sampo produced a mannequin head with his usual wig perched on it. “I can do it myself, but an extra pair of hands makes it go faster.” Gepard couldn’t argue with that, so he agreed, moving around to Sampo’s side of the counter.

Gepard’s heart fluttered slightly when he was handed hairpins and asked to pin down Sampo’s bangs. He couldn’t help it. The setting felt oddly intimate. He didn’t think he had ever touched Sampo this much out of his disguise, and embarrassingly, that thought excited him.

What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He and Sampo were business partners— or employer and employee, technically speaking. Even though they were friends, in this context Gepard was paying him for a service. He still barely even knew anything about Sampo, for Qipoth’s sake! He couldn’t be—

He forced the thoughts away. After the party. He would deal with this after the party.

He searched for a distraction, finding one when he noticed something shiny on Sampo’s ear. He hadn’t paid attention before, but upon closer inspection, he realized that Sampo was wearing new earrings.

They didn’t look anything like the cuffs he usually wore. They were a pair of dangling silver shapes, and it took Gepard a moment to figure out what they were supposed to be.

“Feathers,” he said aloud, the word foreign on his tongue. He’d seen pictures in textbooks at school, but it wasn’t exactly a popular design in Belobog. Birds had been extinct for centuries, and most people didn’t like reminders of what their planet had lost.

Sampo turned, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that’s hair, Gep,” he teased. Gepard let go of the lock he was holding, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the earrings.

“Those are feathers,” he repeated. “I’ve never seen feather-shaped earrings before.” They were probably from off-planet, now that Gepard was thinking about it. The longer he’d known Sampo wasn’t from Jarilo-VI, the easier it was to accept when he said or did something alien.

Sure enough, Sampo confirmed Gepard’s assumption. “They’re from a pretty far-away planet,” he said with a shrug. “Y’know, I’m still not used to Belobog not having birds. The Stellaron really did a number on this planet.” He hissed the word “Stellaron,” sucking air in through his teeth after. He had already turned back around, but Gepard could picture a grimace on the other man’s face.

“Yeah,” Gepard sighed, returning to his task. “I still don’t understand why you’d choose to come here, of all places, with the Eternal Freeze in full swing. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just… weird.”

The silence that followed was strangely heavy. Gepard didn’t dare to speak, unnerved by the contemplative aura Sampo had begun to exude. The Captain knew what decision-making looked like, and whatever Sampo was considering was a very weighty decision. At least, it was to him.

As Gepard finished pinning Sampo’s hair down, the other man finally spoke. In an obvious attempt at sounding casual, he said: “Belobog reminds me of home, I guess.”

It took Gepard a moment to register Sampo’s words. He drew back, intrigued. “Home?”

Sampo shrugged, tugging a wig cap onto his head. “I mean, it’s not home anymore,” he rambled. “I haven’t been back in… over twenty years? I still get a little nostalgic about it, though.”

Gepard wasn’t as excited as he thought he would be, hearing more about Sampo’s past. He was touched, yes, but the intimacy of the moment took the edge off of the rush of adrenaline hitting his system. Thank Qlipoth.

“Yeah?” He tried his best to sound nonchalant. “What’s it like?” Tell me everything. Your language, your favorite food from home, your real name. He knew getting that information was just wishful thinking, but he hoped for it anyway.

“Cold.” Sampo laughed as he stretched his wig over his scalp. He relaxed more as he talked, beckoning for Gepard to help him with pins again. “Snowy. We didn’t have a Stellaron, we were just unlucky. The planet was a bit farther from our sun than normal.”

Gepard gently pushed pins into the edges of the wig, careful not to stab Sampo’s scalp. “I didn’t expect you to be from somewhere cold,” he said tentatively. Sampo could start laughing things off and changing the subject at any minute, and Gepard did not want to speed that along.

“Just ‘cause it’s cold doesn’t mean it’s not lively,” Sampo replied. “I mean, I was always too much fun for my planet, but I didn’t stick out nearly as much as I would’ve if I was born here. Belobog is so uptight.”

“Your idea of fun is very skewed.”

“Oh, I know!” Sampo adjusted the wig one last time, nodding when he felt it was secure. He turned around fully, giving Gepard a lopsided grin. “You gotta admit, though, I’ve mellowed out now that I’m older.”

“Sure… it’s not like you cause trouble on purpose, or anything,” Gepard teased with a small smile, despite his disappointment in Sampo changing the subject away from his home planet. There wasn’t much he could do about it without coming across as overbearing.

Sampo played along with Gepard’s teasing, placing a gloved hand over his chest. “I would never,” he said with exaggerated solemness. “I am the very picture of good behavior!”

He stood up with a groaned complaint about his joints and how he was getting old. Gepard reached out a hand to steady Sampo, only to awkwardly retract it when the other man righted himself on his own.

Sampo inhaled, then shook out his arms and relaxed his shoulders. “You ready?” He asked, grinning lopsidedly. “I’d normally wait longer, but you’re not exactly the ‘fashionably late’ type.”

Gepard rolled his eyes, sidestepping so Sampo could move to grab his shoes. “Being punctual is kind of essential for being a guard,” he said drily. “I’d even say we’re late.” They would be several minutes early at this point, but as Gepard’s drill Sargent had once said, ”early” is on time, and “on time” is late.

“Whatever,” Sampo said flippantly. He pulled on his shoes, testing out the heels on the wood floor. Satisfied with his balance, he nodded. The high heels weren’t actually that high, which was good if Sampo planned on standing a lot. Gepard didn’t want to spend the whole night holding his partner’s shoes after his feet got sore.

After a brief bout of teasing from Sampo when Gepard held the door for him, the two were on their way. The sun was dipping low over the rooftops. Silently, Gepard wondered what the sunset was like on Sampo’s home planet.

The walk to the second Landau estate was quiet, despite its length. As the two made their way down the streets, they were joined by a few other couples and families on the guest list for the party. Gepard smiled and nodded politely in greeting to his fellow early birds, and Sampo took it upon himself to make small talk. Gepard tuned out of those conversations, saving his energy.

It was nice to just listen to Sampo talk, he mused as he walked. It made him feel weirdly special. He was the only one, barring Lynx, Pela, and Serval, who knew Sampo’s real identity. Everyone else only knew Brughel. Despite the reasons behind that, Gepard selfishly allowed himself a twinge of pride at being in the know.

He didn’t have time to redirect his thoughts before his parents’ home came into view. The front door was open, and Gepard’s mother was greeting guests. Sampo raised an eyebrow, as if to make a jab at how being early ran in the family. Gepard didn’t dignify him with a response, quickly ascending the steps to the house and plastering his practiced smile onto his face.

“Hello, mother,” he greeted with a wave. “You look lovely tonight.” Savannah Landau truly did, dressed in an off-white, floor-length evening gown with bright blue accents and sapphire jewelry. She was the very picture of a Landau matriarch, matching old portraits of Gepard’s grandmother and great-grandmother, not in looks, but in spirit.

Her eyes flicked toward Gepard’s coat, but she didn’t comment on the distinct lack of Landau colors. She just gave him a warm smile, spreading her arms for a hug, which Gepard accepted.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, her words genuine. “And you too, Miss Poisson!” She pulled away from the hug, extending a hand, which Sampo took. They shook hands briefly, then Gepard’s mother pulled back, her gaze softening with guilt.

“Your father is inside,” she said quietly. “I am… sorry, Miss Poisson, for what happened last time we met. Lionel is very stubborn.”

Sampo grinned, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “I’ve been over it for a while. I’m never one to say no to an invitation, though!” That earned a chuckle from Savannah, and Gepard pushed out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Savannah admitted. “Now, you two head inside and find Lionel. He’s expecting you at any moment.” She gave Gepard one last smile before turning to say hello to another guest. Gepard nodded, waving goodbye and tugging Sampo along. First one down.

Sampo nudged Gepard’s arm gently. “Miss Poisson,” he muttered with a chuckle. “I feel so elegant now! So distinguished!”

Gepard snorted, leading him through the foyer into the dining hall. The table was gone, leaving room for people to mill about. A few chairs were propped against the walls, and some elderly guests were resting their legs there while fanning themselves and gossiping. It seemed like half of the guest list had turned up early, something that Sampo took great amusement in.

A band was setting up in the corner. It was a small string quartet, plus a conductor. They were warming up, the violin rising high above the white noise of people chatting.

Somehow, Gepard wasn’t surprised when Sampo made a beeline for a table set aside for food. Finger sandwiches and various skewers were laid out, and Sampo took multiple of them in one hand. Catching Gepard’s judgmental look, he pointedly shoved a sandwich into his mouth and sighed happily, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“I didn’ eat,” he explained through his mouthful of food. “Lemme have thifh.” Gepard silently prayed nobody was watching, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“If my father sees you like that, he’s going to kill you.” Gepard elbowed Sampo in the side, making the man inhale a bit of his sandwich. He coughed violently, a hot blush rising to his cheeks as he glared.

“R-rude,” Sampo huffed between coughs. He took a long, deliberate breath, then swallowed, calming himself. ”You almost killed me, Gep! You want me to choke?”

“If it’ll shut you up.” Gepard almost didn’t notice Sampo’s cheeks turning pink. Almost. Before he could fully register it, a familiar voice sounded from just a few feet away. Gepard’s heart dropped, and he steeled himself.

“Gepard,” his father said sharply. Lionel Landau was matching his wife, dressed in an off-white suit with a blue tie. He looked Gepard up and down, his permanent scowl deepening when he noticed his son’s minuscule act of rebellion by not wearing the family colors.

With a sigh, Gepard gave his father what he hoped was a smile, not a grimace. “Hello, Father,” he replied tensely. His fist was clenched, but he soon felt Sampo’s fingers gently prying his hand open. A warm hand slipped into his. Gepard relaxed ever so slightly. He wasn’t alone in this, and that made all the difference.

Lionel glanced at Sampo disapprovingly. “I see you have helped yourself to the refreshments,” he grumbled. His gaze was harsh and judgmental. He didn’t say it, but Gepard knew what his father was thinking— or at least, he knew the spirit of it.

Sampo was, of course, the first to act. “Pardon my manners,” he said, appropriately humble and embarrassed. “I was just so excited, I couldn’t help it!” He offered Gepard a skewer, an open attempt at saving face. “Besides, I had to get Geppie to try them!”

He poked Gepard’s face with the skewer. It smelled like wild boar and mushrooms. Gepard accepted the offering with a sigh, embracing the opportunity to let Sampo talk for a moment.

“Hm.” Lionel glanced between the two silently before nodding. “I assume my wife has already spoken with you,” he said curtly. Sampo confirmed this, and Lionel seemed satisfied.

“I suppose it is my turn, then,” he said. “I would like to apologize for my previous behavior. It was crass of me to make assumptions about you.” Gepard knew his father, and he knew when the elder Landau meant his apologies. This one was shaky, at best.

Sampo was certainly perceptive enough to notice, but he didn’t let it show. Gepard followed his lead, shoving down his irritation. He didn’t want to make a scene again, not in front of so many people. It wasn’t Sampo who was being insulted, Gepard reminded himself.

“Water under the bridge,” Sampo insisted with a laugh. “Y’know, everyone says first impressions are everything, but personally? I think second impressions are more important.” He flashed Lionel a sharp grin. “This time around is going well so far, Mr. Landau!”

Lionel glared at Sampo briefly before relaxing his shoulders ever so slightly. Gepard swallowed the last of the meat on his skewer, the rumbling of his empty stomach quieting a bit. He practically deflated with relief when his father gave him a terse nod, taking a step back.

“Thank you,” he said to Sampo, almost as an afterthought. “You two enjoy yourselves. I have guests to attend to, so I won’t keep you any longer.” The hard lines of his face pulled into the ghost of a smile, and then he was gone, turning and marching away quickly.

Gepard let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Sampo gave his hand a light squeeze before pulling away and shaking out his own hand, like it had fallen asleep and he was trying to get his nerves to work again. Gepard didn’t think he had been gripping Sampo that tightly.

The quartet began to play a light, jaunty tune, one Gepard recognized, but couldn’t remember the name or composer of. Sampo nodded along to the music. “Your dad’s even more of a hardass than I remember,” he said teasingly.

Gepard couldn’t bring himself to argue. “At least he didn’t say anything too invasive,” he sighed. “We should be in the clear for tonight. He’ll be busy with other guests.” An unspoken hopefully hung in the air.

“Well, that’s great!” Sampo clapped his hands together, though the motion was awkward with a half-eaten vegetable skewer in one hand. It was more like slapping his own knuckles, the impact making a muffled thwack through his gloves.

Sampo elbowed Gepard gently. “Now we can just kick back and relax,” he continued. “Enjoy ourselves, mingle, dance a little— y’know, the works! Rich people party things!”

“I’m pretty sure you can do those things at any party,” Gepard argued with a laugh. He hadn’t thought about anything but socializing and having to deal with his parents, but Sampo was right. He could technically do whatever he wanted, as long as he said hello to the people who would expect it.

Sampo shook his head, almost pityingly, like Gepard didn’t understand something fundamental. “Not like this,” he insisted. “Pretending to be all hoity-toity is fun! Well, at least I’ll be pretending, Mr. Landau.” He poked Gepard’s arm teasingly.

“Never call me that,” Gepard said flatly. He knew that technically, he was a Mr. Landau, but he wasn’t the Mr. Landau. He was so used to being called Captain, being called any other honorific felt wrong.

“Fine, fine.” Sampo shrugged. “Anyway, you better not stand here all night, because I’m gonna go bother some aristocrats!” He didn’t wait for Gepard to protest, forcing the blond to chase after him before he could make a fool of himself. Gepard cursed under his breath, though his irritation was softened by Sampo’s laughter.

It turned out that Sampo was actually really good at fitting in among the guests. Gepard didn’t know why he was surprised. Much like the snow foxes, Sampo blended in with his surroundings, to the point where it almost seemed like he belonged there.

Brughel Poisson laughed at all the right jokes, for the perfect amount of time. She listened attentively and made witty additions to the conversation. She told stories that Gepard knew were lies, or at best, half-truths, and ate the attention up.

Sampo Koski squeezed Gepard’s hand when he was tired of a conversation partner. He was the one who teased Gepard by threatening to mess up his hair. When Gepard needed a break from talking, it was Sampo who made excuses to get glasses of champagne and sit down.

Gepard was actually having fun at a party, for once, he realized as he sipped at his drink. He liked having someone at his side. He watched Sampo’s feather earrings catch the light, and when his face flushed at the other man laugh, he knew he couldn’t blame the champagne. He tried to anyway.

Sampo downed the rest of his glass, then stood up with a sigh. “I gotta take a leak,” he said. “Don’t die while I’m gone, babe.” He patted Gepard on the shoulder, laughing mischievously as he sashayed away. It took longer than it should have for Gepard to realize what Sampo had said.

Damn it. He was pathetic. He sighed, pressing his face into his hands. This had become too complicated. He was feeling… far too many things about Sampo, and almost none of them were negative. He still didn’t want to think about it, but it was becoming impossible.

“Gepard?” He looked up to see his mother, smiling at him softly. She looked worried, so Gepard tried to pull himself together. He said hello, returning Savannah’s smile as much as possible.

She didn’t ask to sit down, but she didn’t have to. Gepard would have let her regardless. Despite being surrounded by guests, both of them allowed their respective masks to fall, just a little.

Savannah’s gaze was warm when she looked at Gepard. “I’m so proud of you,” she said softly. “Your father and I both are.” Blinking in surprise, Gepard nodded.

“Thank you,” he replied. “That means a lot.” Even though his feelings toward his parents were complicated, now that he was an adult, he meant it. Maybe his inner child would always be happy to receive their approval, no matter how tense things were.

His mother’s smile widened, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. “I was getting worried about you,” she admitted, visibly a little ashamed. “None of the women we found for you worked out, and I didn’t want you to end up alone. And, well, carrying on the Landau name is important.” Her heart wasn’t really in the last statement. Having married into the family, the Landau name meant something different to her than it did Lionel.

Gepard hummed noncommittally. “Things worked out in the end,” he said, trying not to sound irritated. He didn’t want to think about what would happen when he and Sampo inevitably ended their working relationship. The fallout for that would be… unpleasant.

“I’m so glad they did.” Savannah fidgeted with her wedding ring, a thin golden band with a small sapphire set into it. She leaned in closer, reaching for Gepard’s hand. He allowed her to take it, making sure she didn’t get the prosthetic. He wanted to feel his mother’s warmth.

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You really love her,” she said, a tiny laugh escaping her lips. “The way you look at her… it reminds me of how your father looked at me, when we were young.” She practically beamed, and it took every ounce of Gepard’s strength to keep breathing.

“I hope that one day,” Savannah continued, “Miss Poisson can make you as happy as your father makes me.” Noticing the color draining from Gepard’s face, Savannah backtracked, misinterpreting his fear.

“When you’re ready,” she insisted. “I know that the two of you haven’t been together that long. I just see that spark between you two. It makes me feel optimistic.” She let Gepard’s hand go, gently cupping the side of his face instead.

“My baby’s all grown up,” she whispered. “I really, really am proud of you, Gepard.” She patted Gepard on the cheek, smiled one last time, and stood up. “Your girlfriend’s coming back,” she announced. “I’d best be going, but please, remember what we talked about.”

Numbly, Gepard nodded, only partially paying attention. He couldn’t summon the energy to greet Sampo when the other man returned, his thoughts racing in his head.

Love was too strong of a word, wasn’t it? He and Sampo had only been “together” for a few months, but… no, they had known each other far longer than that. Gepard had been mildly annoyed by Sampo for years. Even if they weren’t close, Gepard knew him.

Avoiding his feelings was impossible now. His mother had gutted any chance at waiting until after the party. It wasn’t her fault, but Gepard felt a little angry at her anyway. It was just another emotion in the storm of feelings he was experiencing, though, and it quickly got drowned out by panic.

“Gep?”

What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to ruin what he had with Sampo. They were friends, and he liked that. He knew that he wanted more, but he could live without it. Things didn’t have to change, but they would if Gepard felt this way.

“Hey, Gep?”

He closed his eyes, trying to focus. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing too quickly, or not breathing at all. He sucked in a shaky lungful of air, ignoring the way it hurt his chest. He knew Sampo was there, and he was probably worried, but he couldn’t do or say anything.

“Here. C’mon, take my hand.” He did as he was told, and was quickly pulled to his feet. Sampo rushed him out of the dining hall, as quickly as social propriety would allow. Gepard wanted to give Sampo directions, but he didn’t know where the end goal was, and he needed to focus.

After a minute of wrong turns and dead ends, Gepard felt cold night air hit his face, and he took a deep breath. Sampo let go of his hand, letting Gepard ground himself. It was appreciated. In his head, Gepard chanted old drill songs, letting the wind sting his cheeks until they were numb. He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, his breathing slowed enough for his chest to stop hurting.

He felt silly, being so afraid of something this inconsequential. He had been through worse than having a crush, or whatever deeper feeling this was. Hell, admitting it to himself wasn’t even that bad, now that he was outside. This was ridiculous, shameful, and childish.

Next to Gepard, Sampo leaned over something— a railing. Gepard knew this little balcony, just a few doors down from the dining hall. Sampo had lead them in a circle. The thought of it made Gepard laugh.

“Feeling better, bud?” Sampo was good at masking, but Gepard had known him long enough to recognize the worry in his voice. Gepard took another deep, slow breath, then pushed it out in a sigh.

“Yeah,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I got… overwhelmed.” A half-truth would have to be good enough, he decided.

Sampo pressed a champagne flute into Gepard’s hand. Noticing Gepard’s confusion, he laughed quietly. “I thought you’d want something to drink after all that,” he explained. “I popped out while you were calming down.”

Gepard nodded gratefully, sipping the champagne. He wasn’t a lightweight, so he wasn’t worried about embarrassing himself or being unaware. It was just enough to further ease his nerves, nothing more.

“What’d your mom say?” Sampo wasn’t really looking at Gepard, his gaze landing slightly to the left. He didn’t seem nervous or uncomfortable. Maybe this was a strange attempt atgiving Gepard just a little more space.

The captain’s heart stuttered at the question. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled. “She just… brought up something uncomfortable.”

Sampo let out a low whistle. “Was it about an ex,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. Gepard rolled his eyes, snorting a little. He wished it was that simple.

“No,” he said. “Again, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to.” Sampo finally looked directly at Gepard, his eyes crinkling into a smile. “We can talk about something else, or nothing at all, if you want. I’m not picky.” He made no move to return to the party.

Gepard didn’t want to keep Sampo from having fun, but he also didn’t want to return yet. He was tired, and the breeze felt so good on his skin. His hand was growing cold through the black gloves he’d paired with his coat, but he ignored it. Selfishly, he decided to stay.

The two stood in silence for a while. Gepard turned to gaze out at his parents’ backyard rock garden. It wasn’t large enough to be called a courtyard, but it was still big. It was snowing gently, as it so often did in Belobog. Tiny snowflakes landed on Gepard’s cheeks, leaving droplets of water behind.

He glanced back at Sampo, who was looking up at the stars. A few stray snowflakes were caught on his eyelashes. Gepard’s breath hitched.

“What are we going to do when this is over,” he asked quietly. “We can’t keep doing this forever.” He was afraid of the answer to his question, but not knowing was worse.

Sampo shrugged, meeting Gepard’s eyes. “We go back to normal,” he said. It was so simple, yet so devastating to hear. “We have our separate lives. We’ll just… be friends, now.” His tone was off. He sounded cautiously hopeful, like he was waiting for Gepard to agree with him.

Gepard swallowed thickly. “Right,” he sighed. “Friends.” Even though he knew he wanted more. Even though they wouldn’t ever be able to spend time together in public again. Even though his parents would be disappointed that Brughel didn’t work out either.

The silence between the two was uncomfortable, so Gepard broke it. “Tell me more about your home planet,” he said. “Anything at all.” He wanted to talk about something, anything else. Sampo seemed to get the message.

After thinking for a moment, Sampo leaned against the railing, staring out at the rock garden with a wistful smile. “There was this old legend,” he began. “It was about a mill that produced salt, grain, and gold. Endless riches and prosperity for the people who held it.”

He gestured with his hands, pantomiming like he was using the legendary mill. “One day, someone stole that mill,” he said, “and the guy who made it, as well as his homeland, tried to get it back. There was a huge battle, and in the crossfire, the mill was destroyed.” Sampo slammed his closed fist into his hand, then splayed his fingers out, letting that hand fall to his side.

“I always wanted to find that mill,” he said. “You wanna know what it’s called?” At the sight of Sampo’s excited smirk, Gepard nodded. “The Sampo! Isn’t that fun?”

Gepard blinked, tilting his head. “You named yourself… after a mill?” He felt his lips tug into a smile. “That’s ridiculous.” Despite how silly it was, though, Gepard was delighted. Knowing that Sampo’s name was tied directly to his home planet made Gepard feel almost giddy. Like it was a personal, intimate secret between the two of them.

“Hey, don’t make fun of me.” Sampo tried to poke Gepard in the stomach, only to be evaded and poked back. He yelped, caught off-guard, and tried to escape to the other side of the balcony with a playful laugh. Out of habit and some sort of desire, Gepard followed.

The two ended up in a miniature chase, though as it went on, it became more of a dance. Sampo sidestepped Gepard’s attempts at catching him, managing to spin around gracefully in his high heels. Gepard grabbed Sampo’s hand a few times, only for the other man to wriggle out of his grasp. It was familiar, and yet so much better than what Gepard was used to.

Unlike their usual chases, however, Gepard managed to corner Sampo. For once, the other man didn’t run away, laughing breathlessly as he leaned against the wall. “Alright, alright,” he exclaimed. “I surrender, Captain!”

Gepard grinned, still a bit overwhelmed, but at peace with it. He paused to catch his breath, only for his eyes to lock with Sampo’s. Something changed in Sampo’s expression, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Gepard was suddenly aware of how close they were.

He swallowed, feeling Sampo’s breath warm his face. “What if… what if things change,” he whispered impulsively. Maybe he was a little buzzed, or maybe he was just being a fool, but he didn’t want to think long enough to find the answer.

Sampo’s breath audibly hitched, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. “Then they change,” he said with a shrug. “That’s just how life is, Gep. Worrying about it gets you nowhere.”

Gepard laughed shakily. “That’s not exactly reassuring.” He of all people knew how much things could change. Rotations of soldiers, many of whom didn’t make it past the five year mark. Men who came home from the front lines, only to no longer be themselves. Friends lost to the snow, to memories, to time.

He had never lost someone to love before. He couldn’t bear the idea of it.

“Eh, try not to think about it too hard.” Sampo reached up and patted Gepard’s cheek with a gloved hand. “Why not focus on the here and now, yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I like the idea of that much better.”

It sounded so simple when he said it. Gepard didn’t want to think about the present, but when Sampo moved his hand down to rest on his shoulder, it was hard not to. They were so close, too close, and yet Gepard couldn’t pull away.

Almost instinctively, he moved his own hands down, gently resting them on Sampo’s waist. Sampo made no move to stop him, eyes wide and reflecting the silver moonlight. The cool glow made his red lipstick look black, and the fibers of his wig shone. If Gepard squinted, he could imagine Sampo’s real hair instead of the wig.

It was Sampo who leaned in first, but it was Gepard who closed the distance. It had been a long time since Gepard had kissed someone, but muscle memory took over as their lips met. It was soft and chaste, but it felt like firecrackers were going off in Gepard’s stomach. Part of him screamed that he needed to stop. He didn’t listen, just savoring the moment.

He pulled away after a moment, breathless even though the kiss hadn’t been long at all. Almost frantically, he looked at Sampo for the other man’s reaction, and a lump formed in his throat when he saw it.

Sampo was frozen, wearing that blank expression that had frightened Gepard twice before. Finally, with red cheeks and a hammering heart, Gepard recognized it for what it was: panic. Sampo was panicking, visibly thinking of how to respond, and it made Gepard feel sick. The butterflies in his stomach vanished as the reality of the situation set in.

“Shit,” Gepard whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His heart stung from the perceived rejection, but he shoved those feelings down. What the hell was he doing? He had just officially acknowledged how he felt, and now he was practically forcing himself onto Sampo? Disgusting, vile, awful person.

The emptiness in Sampo’s face was replaced by a wide, fake grin. “It’s fine,” he said, far too casually. Gepard reached out and took his hand in concern, only to be brushed off as Sampo moved to the side, retreating from the wall.

“I charge extra for that kind of thing, Gep.” Sampo laughed, and if Gepard had been anyone else, he might not have noticed how forced it was. “I’ll give you that one for free, but anything else will cost you!”

“What? No, I…” Gepard forced himself to move, to do anything but just stand there. He took a step back, trying to give Sampo space. “That’s not— I didn’t—“

“You didn’t what?” Gepard flinched. Sampo’s smile had fallen for just a moment, and when it returned, it was sharper and more forced than ever. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

He kissed you back, a voice in Gepard’s head whispered. He leaned in first. The implications were too much, so Gepard forced the voice to quiet. Sampo was angry with him, whether he had wanted the kiss or not.

Gepard didn’t understand why, though. He choked on the lump in his throat as he spoke. “Sampo, please, we need to talk about this.” Nothing made sense, and everything was going wrong, and Gepard just needed a moment to breathe. His chest ached, and he couldn’t tell if it was a panic attack or heartbreak.

“Nope, we don’t.” Sampo dodged Gepard’s attempts at stopping him, making his way to the edge of the balcony. “I’m fine, you’re fine, so there’s nothing to talk about!” His lies had never been so obvious before.

”Sampo!”

“Stop, Gepard,” Sampo begged, his voice thick with exhaustion and something else Gepard couldn’t quite make out. His green eyes shone in the dark, a little too watery. “I can’t… I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry.”

Finally, Gepard stopped. Sampo sounded so defeated, and the conflict in his heart was written all over his face. A hot, aching pressure built behind Gepard’s eyes, and he had to blink rapidly to prevent himself from tearing up.

Sampo took a deep, shaky breath, then pushed it out slowly. “I need some time, okay?” He sounded different than before, when he was talking about his home planet. That kind of vulnerability was bittersweet, laced with nostalgia and a faint kind of hope.

This was sad, aching, and desperate. This was the kind of vulnerability that Gepard had seen countless times before in the faces of his soldiers. The dying, asking for their brothers in arms to tell their families they love them. Soldiers saying goodbye to their loved ones, knowing full well they wouldn’t live to say hello again.

It felt so final, and yet Sampo still gave Gepard the tiniest of smiles. “We’ll talk later,” he said. Gepard couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not, but he forced himself to believe Sampo anyway.

He heard the smoke bomb before it went off, and part of him wondered if Sampo had telegraphed it on purpose. He had enough time to turn around and cover his mouth, closing his eyes until the smoke dissipated. When it finally did, the balcony was empty, leaving Gepard with tears in his eyes and the smell of smoke clinging to his suit.

Alone, Gepard leaned against the wall, covering his eyes with his hands to absorb the tears that had begun to leak out. What the hell had he done?

Chapter Text

Gepard didn’t try to contact Sampo. The man had requested time, and it wasn’t Gepard’s place to cross that boundary. It ate away at him, though, keeping him awake at night and occupying his every waking thought.

Rejection felt awful when it was from someone he actually cared about. It had stung when it was random women he had been set up with, but facing it from Sampo made Gepard feel like his heart had been carved out of his chest.

He tried not to go home too much, or spend time in his office. Every second he spent sitting down or doing anything other than physical labor, his thoughts drifted to Sampo. Those thoughts did nothing but hurt him, and he didn’t want that.

His coworkers and soldiers worried about him. Gepard tried to reassure them, but it wasn’t long before the rumor mill started grinding away. Whispers of ”he got dumped” began to circulate, and Gepard couldn’t bring himself to correct them.

Why else, some speculated, would their captain be so upset? Why else would his girlfriend, who previously bothered him whenever she could, be gone? Why else would she leave a massive soirée early, forcing Gepard to cover for her, visibly heartbroken?

Gepard had tried to keep his feelings under wraps, covering for Sampo at the end of the party. He told everyone Brughel had gone home early, feeling sick. His mother had seen through him, though, sending him sad looks the rest of the night. She had hugged him as he left, whispering her condolences in his ear.

Judging by the sheer amount of rumors, some high-profile gossip had been at the party, eager to catch the scent of a new story to spread. It didn’t really matter how the rumors started, though. Gepard was forced to hear them regardless.

He was used to gossip, but he knew it was only a matter of time until his sisters found out and decided to take matters into their own hands. Word traveled quickly, and while it would take longer for Lynx to find out organically, the Landau siblings were ride or die, and Serval would contact her as soon as possible.

Sure enough, it only took three days of rumors for Serval to practically break down the door to the gym. Her guitar was slung haphazardly over her back, and her fingers were still indented from pressing on the instrument’s strings. She had clearly dropped everything to get there, and Gepard knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Gepard had been running drills with some newer recruits, but thankfully they had been due for a break anyway. He released them to get water, allowing Serval to drag him out the door and through the halls. Her grip was as sturdy as Qlipoth’s wall, so there was no real point in trying to break out of it.

As soon as they were alone in a spare office, Serval cornered Gepard and stared at him, her eyes burning. “What did he do,” she hissed. “You’d better explain, right now.”

In hindsight, maybe Gepard should have tried to explain things to Serval sooner, before she got other ideas in her head. He sighed, trying to figure out what to do. He could lie, but he was a bad liar, especially when it came to his sisters. He didn’t want to tell the full truth, either.

He settled on a lie by omission, bracing himself for further interrogation. “Sampo didn’t do anything,” Gepard whispered. “I… messed up. And no, I’m not lying or placing blame where I shouldn’t.” He stopped Serval before she could argue. “I know what I did, and it’s serious.”

Serval pursed her lips, scrutinizing Gepard intensely. “Okay then,” she said, clearly still suspicious. “What did you do?” Her tone was far less vitriolic than before, softened by Gepard being her younger brother. He was grateful for his brother privileges, in that regard.

It took him a moment to think of what to say. He could feel his face warming at the thought of what he had done, both with shame and excitement.

“I pushed boundaries I shouldn’t have,” he said after considering his options. “It’s personal, so I’d rather not get into detail.” He was still so confused by Sampo’s reaction. He had initiated, hadn’t he? Maybe Gepard had misinterpreted the signs, as usual. Or maybe Sampo had felt the same spark, but realized he didn’t want to pursue it.

Of course he didn’t. No matter what, Gepard was on the opposite side of the law. Even if he retired, which he wasn’t inclined to do, Sampo’s actions were still against his moral code. Not only that, but Sampo wasn’t from Belobog. He had an actual life somewhere, and Gepard would only hold him back.

Serval’s frown deepened as she digested the little information Gepard had provided to her. She was one of the smartest people Gepard knew, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise when she put the pieces together.

“Oh, shit,” Serval said, her eyes widening. “Did the two of you—“

“No.” Gepard’s cheeks grew even hotter. “No, we didn’t do anything other than… kiss.” Serval gasped dramatically, like she had been shot. Gepard shushed her, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening in.

“Please keep your voice down,” he sighed. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing, and he left immediately after. It’s fine.”

“Gepard, it clearly isn’t fine.” Serval gestured to his face. “You look terrible. It doesn’t matter if it was an impulsive thing if you’re this upset.” She was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Gepard closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. He hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, and it was well past lunchtime, so he was practically running on fumes. He would have kicked Serval out, but the adrenaline from training was wearing off, and his exhaustion was catching up to him.

Defeated, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Serval…” He looked back at his older sister, trying to appear as sympathetic as possible. “Can we do this somewhere else? This is way too messy to hash out here.”

Damage control was about all he had the energy for. Luckily, it seemed that Serval was open to it. She allowed Gepard enough time to secure a late lunch break, and he followed her out of Qlipoth Fort. He barely had enough energy left to order anything from the restaurant Serval had picked out, so she ordered for him.

While they waited for their food, Gepard told her everything. He confessed that he and Sampo had truly become friends, despite the history between them. He admitted to his unfortunately-timed crush, and how he had tried to keep it under control, but his mother and the champagne had loosened his lips just enough for him to ruin everything.

By the time he was finished, his and Serval’s food had arrived. Gepard stared blearily into the broth of his soup. He didn’t think he was hungry, but the second he smelled pork and green onions, his stomach practically roared with excitement.

He ate in silence for a moment. Already, filling his stomach was making Gepard feel sick. He took deep breaths between bites, trying to pace himself. Across from him, Serval was clearly thinking hard. A tiny frown tugged at her lips, and she barely even touched her sandwich.

Finally, she refocused her gaze and looked at Gepard sharply. “You’re such a hypocrite,” she teased, smirking ever-so-slightly. “I can’t be friends with him because he’s a criminal, but you can go around kissing him?”

Gepard set down his spoon, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “I know,” he admitted.

“I’m never going to let this go.”

“I know.” Despite everything, Gepard laughed. Serval joined in, the tension between them evaporating in an instant. The older Landau gently punched her brother in the arm, reaching across the table to do so. It almost felt like a normal day, in that private corner of the restaurant.

When their laughter died, Serval’s expression settled into something more serious. “I am seriously pissed at him, though.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “He’d better have a good explanation.”

Gepard snorted. “You’re taking this remarkably well,” he said, too tired to defend Sampo. Hell, even if he had the energy, he wouldn’t. He was too confused to understand if he wanted to kiss Sampo again, or punch him.

Serval shrugged, finally taking a decent bite out of her sandwich. “I’m surprised, yeah,” she commented after swallowing. “But remember— I was friends with him for a while. I liked him for a reason.”

When Gepard didn’t respond, Serval continued. “I am worried about you, though.” She reached out, gently brushing her knuckles against Gepard’s hand in a comforting gesture. “Neither of us really know him. I don’t want you to grieve because you fell for someone who isn’t real.”

Gepard knew that Sampo was a liar. It was the man’s most defining feature, to the point where it was all most people knew him for. He was good at it, too.

Yet, when Gepard looked back on those softer, quieter moments between the two of them, he couldn’t help but feel that they were genuine. He realized in that moment, as his soup grew cold, that he probably knew Sampo the best out of anyone on Jarilo-VI.

He must have looked doubtful, because Serval finally took his hand in hers. She squeezed him gently, in a way she’d done ever since they were kids when their father yelled at them. Gepard couldn’t help but smile a little at the comfort.

“Okay,” Serval said after a moment, pushing the word out in a half-sigh. “Do you want my opinion as a mechanic, or my opinion as a sister?” She fixed Gepard with a hard stare, showing that she meant business.

Gepard didn’t need to think about it. “Both,” he said with a firm nod. He trusted Serval either way. Both sides of her would have good points.

Serval nodded back. “As a mechanic,” she began, “I think we should get some fresh opinions on this. I can talk to Lynx or Nat, if you want. Getting an outside point of view will both help us search for Sampo, and get an idea of what to do.”

Gepard internally took notes as Serval talked. Her rapid-fire problem solving style was something he had learned to keep up with years ago. “And as a sister?” He prompted, already knowing what she was going to say.

“As a sister, I think we should kill him.” She said it calmly, like she was offering sage advice from Qlipoth themself. “At the very least, we should punch him extremely hard.”

Gepard snorted, gently pulling his hand away from Serval’s. “You have my full permission to do so,” he said firmly. Even ignoring his own feelings, he knew Sampo would deserve a solid punch in the face. It wasn’t like he could stop Serval, anyway. She would do it regardless.

“Yes, Sir!” Serval gave Gepard a mock salute, and the younger Landau rolled his eyes. As annoying as her teasing was, though, Serval was a godsend. Gepard truly felt much better after talking to her.

Natasha and Lynx, however, were a different story. Lynx was family, so Gepard wasn’t inclined to refuse Serval’s offer to talk to her. Though, she would never let Gepard live this down, and he really did not want to deal with two teasing sisters.

As for Natasha… Gepard didn’t know her very well. She was just a coworker, at most. He respected her, of course, but that didn’t mean he wanted to involve her in such a personal issue. She was close with Sampo, though, so Gepard understood why Serval brought her up.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t really anyone else to turn to. Gepard didn’t have close friends, and his work friends only knew the lies that he told them about Brughel. None of them could be trusted with such a monumental secret.

Gepard ultimately agreed to Serval’s offer, knowing he would regret it. He wanted to find Sampo as well, despite his request for space. Gepard told himself that he wouldn’t necessarily act on the information, if he got it. Besides, it was unlikely that Natasha would know where Sampo was, if this was a repeat of his last disappearance.

The thought of that made Gepard pause, an idea forming in his head. “We should contact the Astral Express,” he suggested. “If anyone’s seen him, it would be them.”

Serval raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t question it. She thought for a moment, then sighed with a wry smile. “Y’know what? Sampo being a space traveler is one of the least surprising things I’ve heard today.”

The Landau siblings finished their lunch, and by the end of it, they had a solid plan. Gepard was in charge of reaching out to the Express, while Serval would talk to her connections in the Underworld. Lynx was best handled as a team, so they would inform her together. Since Pela knew about Sampo, she was on the list of people to contact as well.

Planning ahead made Gepard feel a little better about the situation. His heart still ached, but now there was a chance that everything would be resolved. At the very least, he would get closure.

He didn’t want to believe that Sampo would just leave forever. The man had too many ties to Belobog. The children in the Underworld adored him, and Wildfire cared for him deeply. He was important to them, and he knew it.

Bidding goodbye to Serval, Gepard packed up his leftover soup and began the journey back to Qlipoth Fort. He was so focused on making it back, he almost didn’t catch the flash of red that darted around the corner in front of him.

He paused, heart leaping to his throat. Instinctively, he sped up and rounded the corner as fast as he could. He knew that it wasn’t the right shade of red. It was too warm, too orange, for it to be Sampo, but for a moment, Gepard allowed himself to hope.

The red fabric was gone when he reached the back alley it had dashed into. It was a dead end, and there was nothing to hide in. Not a single trash can or stray crate.

There were footprints in the snow.

Gepard deflated a little, but made a mental note. He could have imagined the flash of red, but footprints in an isolated alley like this were suspicious, and they certainly didn’t belong to Sampo. Loosening his iron grip on his food, he turned and continued on his journey.

As he left, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

Chapter Text

If Gepard were to say that he did nothing but think of Sampo for two entire weeks, he would be lying. The biting cold of the front lines kept him distracted enough to dull his heartache, even though the Fragmentum was retreating. Not to mention the stress of managing a squadron of soldiers.

When he was alone, though, his thoughts always returned to Sampo— or rather, the absence of Sampo. Once again, his men were joking around about the missing public nuisance. The support group of scam victims was quieter. The world kept turning, with no regard for who was missing.

Of course, that was how things worked. Gepard was no stranger to feeling like he was stuck in place. It wasn’t the same as grieving a lost friend or comrade-in-arms, but it hurt nonetheless. Especially since nobody seemed to care.

The Underworlders cared, at least. Gepard hadn’t gotten to talk to any of them in person since he’d returned to the front lines, but he was keeping in touch with Natasha. Her worry was carefully disguised under layers of annoyance, and she had mentioned how much the children missed Sampo. He wasn’t alone in his heartache.

The worst part of it, in Gepard’s opinion, was the uncertainty. When a soldier died, there was a guarantee that they wouldn’t come back. If they ever did, it was only an echo recorded by the Fragmentum, so there was never any hope.

With Sampo, though, Gepard had no idea if he was going to return. Even the Nameless had seen neither hide nor hair of him on any of the planets they’d visited. Some shameful part of Gepard almost wished Sampo was dead so he could stop guessing.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Gepard had exhausted all methods of communication, short of leaving Belobog and tracking Sampo down himself. He already knew he couldn’t do that— he couldn’t bring himself to— and ultimately, he had to accept that Sampo wanted privacy.

“Privacy” generally didn’t involve ghosting everyone in one’s life, but Gepard wasn’t about to argue semantics with someone who wasn’t there.

There were other things to focus on anyway, like the Fragmentum’s retreat, and the arguments that were bound to happen sooner or later. No matter how much the soldiers liked each other, and no matter how well-trained they were, being each other’s only company for weeks would get on their nerves eventually.

They always started out amicable, but they had been out on the snow plains for just over two weeks. Gepard was surprised a quarrel hadn’t started by then, so when one finally did, he was prepared.

Hearing raised voices outside of his tent, Gepard abandoned writing his latest report to quiet the dispute. The soldiers weren’t yelling, but the wind was still, so their voices echoed across the plains. With slow, practiced steps, Gepard exited his tent and fixed the small crowd of soldiers with a stern glare.

A group of four was standing around something Gepard couldn’t make out. A few others were watching the four argue, but most of them continued with their duties. Nobody was exchanging blows— a rare occurrence, as no one wanted to face the wrath of their superior officer— but they all seemed agitated.

Their agitation only increased as Gepard approached. One of the soldiers, a relatively fresh face named Vidal, spotted him and saluted, prompting the others to do the same. The eldest of the group, Waldorf, seemed to only salute due to muscle memory, his gaze still fixed on the object the group surrounded.

“What’s going on out here?” Gepard asked curtly. “Waldorf, report.” Waldorf finally looked up, his bearded face mostly obscured by his helmet and visor. He was older than Gepard, but he never complained about being lower in rank, and he always followed orders.

“We found a foreign object, sir,” Waldorf explained, lowering his arm to gesture at his feet. “It looks like a children’s toy, but it doesn’t belong to any of us at the outpost.”

Soldiers bringing keepsakes from home wasn’t out of the question, so Gepard wasn’t too surprised. His soldiers’ apprehension was enough to give him pause, though. They wouldn’t be causing a commotion over a normal item.

“Let me see,” Gepard ordered. The soldiers obliged, splitting down the middle to allow a clear view of the toy. With how unnerved they looked, he’d half expected something disturbing, like a plush fox with fake entrails hanging out.

It came as a surprise, then, when it just looked like a regular toy. It was a simple plush doll, sitting in a way that implied some sort of wire frame that allowed it to be positioned however the owner wanted. It was made in the image of a girl with long brown pigtails, and it wore a flashy red outfit. All in all, it seemed perfectly ordinary.

Gepard frowned and looked back at Waldorf. “You’re sure it doesn’t belong to anyone here?” It was possible that someone was lying, or that someone on patrol was the owner, and they just hadn’t been asked yet.

Waldorf nodded his head. “Yes, sir,” he said. “We asked everyone here. The patrol team returned for a quick supply restock, so we asked them then.”

“They came back?” Gepard’s frown deepened. “They should’ve had enough for today’s patrol.”

“Yes, Captain. They said some of their rations were missing.”

It wasn’t uncommon for rations to be stolen or lost in training, but in the field, that was unheard of. Every soldier who made it this far knew the risks of being underprepared, and none of them would ever take that risk. Soldiers didn’t get stationed on the front lines if they were forgetful or dishonest.

Gepard understood why the doll was such a big deal now. “You think there’s an intruder in camp,” he said, cutting right to the chase. His thoughts of Sampo were put entirely on hold as he redirected his focus toward the potential crisis.

It was Vidal who spoke next, though not without getting a dirty look from Waldorf and the other two standing nearby. “We were going to report to you, sir,” he blurted. “It’s just— we found the doll, and I thought it might be related, but Peter didn’t.”

“These two idiots started arguing.” Waldorf elbowed Peter in the side, prompting a grumbled complaint. “It’s my responsibility, sir. I should’ve just reported to you immediately, without them.”

“At ease, Corporal.” Gepard’s commanding tone silenced the group immediately. He looked back down at the doll for a brief moment, feeling a brief flicker of familiarity before he looked back away. He may have seen this doll, or one like it, before somewhere, but somehow he doubted that was the reason.

Shaking his head, he focused on the group of soldiers. “I’ll take the doll,” he said curtly. “Waldorf, I want you, Kodaly, and Ivanov on a team searching for anyone suspicious. I’ll dispatch an official investigation soon. Until then, report anything out of the ordinary directly to me, and make sure to keep a close eye on your supplies.”

Waldorf saluted and marched off to gather his team. Gepard tasked the other three with spreading the word. It was only after the four were gone that he picked up the doll, holding it gently in his hand.

Something about the doll’s smile looked so familiar. The shade of red on its dress reminded him of over two weeks prior, after his lunch with Serval. A flash of this same shade disappearing around a corner, the owner nowhere to be found. Coincidences were bound to happen, but Gepard couldn’t shake the feeling that the two were connected somehow.

Quickly, he stashed the doll in his tent, making sure to hide it. Whoever had left it could very well go looking for it again, and it being moved could confuse them enough for them to slip up.

After the doll was secured, Gepard set out to monitor the progress of the investigation. Word had spread quickly, and nearly everyone at camp was looking through their things. Judging by the various curse words snatched up by the wind, it wasn’t going well.

It wasn’t just missing supplies. Some spare tarps had been vandalized when nobody was looking, emblazoned with spray painted laughter and crude hand gestures. A mouse trap hidden in a Private’s bag had nearly broken his finger. As more and more issues cropped up, the camp descended further into chaos.

The Silvermane Guards were trained to keep cool heads, but their frustration boiled over quickly. Gepard managed to keep them from pointing fingers at each other, thankfully. That didn’t stop them from cursing and shouting at the mystery vandal, who likely hadn’t stuck around at the scene of the crime.

Gepard couldn’t blame them. He was furious too. All supplies being in order meant the difference between life and death. The vandal was toying with the lives of his men, his city, and he would not stand for it.

In all the chaos, he missed a familiar flash of blue hair bobbing through the crowd. He didn’t need to see it though. Soon enough, the aimless shouts became targeted again. Gepard could hear the sounds of a fight breaking out, and he immediately sprinted over to stop it, only to halt in his tracks upon seeing the intruder’s face.

Sampo Koski, in all his beautiful, smarmy glory, was being held at gunpoint by a few trigger-happy soldiers. His smug grin was firmly in place, and he barely looked fazed at all. When Gepard pushed through the crowd, Sampo didn’t react beyond shooting a sharp glance his way.

“Stand down,” Gepard barked. The soldiers hesitated, so he issued the order again, more firmly. They lowered their guns uneasily, stepping aside to allow Gepard access to Sampo.

Gepard wasted no time, relief giving way to raw anger. “Koski,” he snapped. “My tent. Now.” Sampo opened his mouth to speak, but Gepard cut him off before he could say a single word. “That’s an order, Koski.”

He didn’t truly expect Sampo to obey, so he was prepared to use force. To his surprise, the criminal shrugged and gave an exaggerated bow. “Lead the way, Captain,” he said with an amused chuckle. Gepard’s ears burned.

The march to his tent felt like no time at all. He was too furious to speak, and the chaos around him only made his mood worse. He was connecting the dots, and although he could tell something was wrong with the situation, he hadn’t quite processed that feeling yet.

As soon as he and Sampo were alone in his tent, Gepard grabbed him by the collar. Sampo’s eyes widened, though his smile remained as steady as ever. “Wow, Captain,” he drawled. “So forward! At least buy me dinner first—“

“Shut it.” Gepard suddenly wanted to slap the grin off Sampo’s face. “You… I can’t believe you!” At a loss for words, Gepard tried to reorient himself. Sampo just stood there, visibly holding back laughter.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” Sampo was a good liar when he wanted to be, but he wasn’t even trying with this. He was phoning it in entirely, snorting at the end of his sentence like it was some kind of joke. Gepard didn’t find it very funny.

“What is wrong with you?!” Gepard gritted his teeth. “You leave for weeks, and when you come back, you do this?” He gestured toward the flaps of his tent. Outside, the soldiers were still trying to assess the damage that had been done.

“Sheesh, learn to take a joke.” Sampo had the gall to lean forward, his bangs brushing Gepard’s nose. “Jarilo-VI is so uptight!”

“It. Isn’t. Funny.” Gepard couldn’t make sense of how Sampo was behaving. His chest felt tight, and he knew that what he was feeling wasn’t just related to the chaos outside. “This prank could get people hurt, or even killed out here.”

Sampo’s smile changed for a split second. It turned wolfish and predatory, enough to make Gepard shudder. Something was deeply, horribly wrong, and what Sampo said only confirmed that hunch.

“That’s why it’s funny, Captain.”

Stunned, Gepard let go of Sampo’s shirt. His head was reeling, and his heart hammered in his chest. “What…?” He looked Sampo up and down, searching for anything that made sense. He knew Sampo was an actor, a liar, a cheat. He knew Sampo wasn’t a good person.

He also knew that Sampo, for all his flaws, would never risk people’s lives like this.

Where had Sampo been, if he was acting like this? What had changed? Was he really that angry with Gepard for kissing him, or was something else going on? Worry swirled with anger in Gepard’s stomach. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, only to be cut off by a loud screech that made his heart drop.

Sampo giggled maliciously, a sadistic sound that Gepard had never heard him make before. “Oopsies,” he sang childishly. “Looks like I was followed! How sad…”

Gepard knew that screech well from years fighting against the Fragmentum. The flying, blue-spiked creatures had taken many lives in their attacks, and they would only continue to do so. Frantically, Gepard flung the tent flaps open, panic setting in when he saw the light reflecting off the creature that had made its way into the middle of camp.

As soon as it arrived, his panic was replaced with a familiar determination. He shut out everything besides that future and what he needed to do to get his men to safety. He abandoned Sampo in his tent, ignoring the cruel cackle that sounded nothing like Sampo’s usual laugh emanating from it as he ran into the fray.

Gepard had to act fast. He sprinted toward the main battle, preparing his gauntlet prosthetic to throw up a shield. His soldiers were unprepared. The Fragmentum monsters weren’t intelligent enough to sneak this far into camp without being spotted, so nobody had been expecting an ambush. Someone had clearly helped this one, but Gepard didn’t want to think about the implication of who had done such a thing.

He knew he wouldn’t make it in time to save everyone, but he had to cut his losses and rescue as many as possible. Rushing into the fray, Gepard balled his hand into a fist and reached out, letting ice crystallize in the air.

BOOM!

An explosion threw Gepard backwards, away from the monster. Disoriented, he ignored the pain from his landing and tried to stand. Through the ringing in his ears, he couldn’t hear much. As it cleared, though, he began to hear something strange.

Laughter. Not the sadistic laughter that had come from Sampo, but what sounded like dozens of people giggling at once. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon after a head injury, but Gepard hadn’t hit his head, and this laughter had a clear source.

A flash of green, then blue, then red. The colors shifted too quickly to settle on just one, and every time it changed, the light teleported a few feet away. Gepard breathed through the pain, forcing himself to his feet and carefully tracking the new arrival’s movements.

Another explosion shook the ground, followed by what sounded like a cheering crowd and thunderous applause. Through the haze and smoke, Gepard could see that the light was the only thing near the monster, with any soldiers well out of the way. Some had been thrown back with Gepard, and they looked to him for guidance.

“Hold your position,” he ordered. He focused his attention on the light, a figure coming into view.

They were turned away from Gepard, so he couldn’t see their face. They wore a long red tailcoat that brushed the ground when they landed on their feet. Gepard thought he could see the curved edge of a mask, stopping halfway down their jawline. A very dramatic-looking, wide-brimmed red hat crowned the extravagant look, a ridiculously tall lavender plume jutting out from the top.

More importantly, the back of their head looked familiar. Gepard had seen it countless times during countless chases. In a way, he felt like he knew the back of that head better than he knew the face attached to it. The hair was different now, fully white with only a few dark blue streaks, but the person it belonged to was unmistakable.

The Fragmentum monster erupted into flames, then froze, then fell to the ground with an agonizing glitch of quantum energy. It disappeared, dissolving into crystal shards that were soon whipped away by the wind. The figure removed his hat and bowed to the space the monster had once occupied, as theatrical and dramatic as ever.

He rose, placing the hat back on his head before turning to face the crowd of Silvermane Guards. Half of his face was obscured by an off-white comedy mask, the other half free. A single, brilliantly green eye met Gepard’s, filling with an indescribable sadness before a familiar grin stretched across his lips.

“Sorry for the spectacle,” Sampo said, genuinely apologetic, albeit lighthearted. His smile then tightened into something full of rage. “Tell me— where is Sparkle?”

Chapter Text

“Tell me— where is Sparkle?”

Gepard recognized the name. Sampo had mentioned her before, and had been speaking with her only a month or so before. Confused and still aching from the explosion that had sent him flying, Gepard didn’t know what to think or how to feel.

“What,” he breathed. “What’s going on?”

Sampo winced. His white mask, formerly on the left side of his face, flipped to the right side. It was black now, embellished with gold trim and painted with a dramatic, weepy frown. “I don’t have time to explain,” he insisted. “Just— where is she? She won’t look like herself. She could be anyone, but she is here—“

“My tent.” Gepard felt sick. He had known something was off, but not this. He had barely had any time to think while speaking with Sampo earlier, and now there was another version of him standing right there. Gepard didn’t know what was happening, but he did know that answers would lie with the other Sampo.

“Take me there.” This Sampo, the white-haired version, was familiar. The way he spoke held none of the edge that the other one had. He was just like the Sampo that Gepard had fallen in love with, and that alone was comforting.

There was no time for relief, though. Gepard nodded, and once he was sure none of his men were injured, he took off running toward his tent. His chest ached— he would have to check for bruised ribs later— but he had to get to the bottom of everything that was going on.

The white-haired Sampo followed him, his feet barely touching the ground. Gepard had so much he wanted to say, but he had to focus. Damage control was more important at the moment, and Sampo seemed to agree.

His tent was eerily quiet. Gepard knew before he went inside that the other Sampo would be gone. Sure enough, the tent was empty, undisturbed except for the doll that was now sitting on his cot.

A speaker crackled, and a feminine voice spoke from within the doll. “Sorry,” the voice giggled. “Miss Sparkle isn’t here right now! Please leave a message at the tone.” A loud, grating beep played, making Gepard wince.

The white-haired Sampo cursed under his breath. Before Gepard could react, the doll was snatched up and torn apart by invisible hands, revealing and swiftly destroying the speaker within. The display of strength sent a chill up Gepard’s spine.

Sampo was practically pulsating with energy, and the sheer amount of power was beginning to get overwhelming. It hurt to look at him directly, a migraine blooming behind Gepard’s eyes. A disembodied voice, light-years away and right in front of him all at once, laughed and laughed.

“Hey.” Sampo was in front of Gepard now, still floating a few inches above the ground. His vibrant green eyes were filled with concern and something akin to guilt. “I’m gonna go find her, okay? Go see a medic or something, I don’t know. Just— just stay here.”

Gepard shook off his discomfort, anchoring himself by digging the fingers of his gauntlet into his opposite arm. His stomach dropped through the floor, and he gritted his teeth. ”No,” he barked. “As Captain, it’s my responsibility to—“

“I’m not letting her get her hands on you.” Sampo’s forcefulness made Gepard pause. “Please, just… trust me.” A desperate expression of panic crossed Sampo’s face, and the sight of it made Gepard’s heart ache.

It didn’t take long, though, for that heartache to be replaced with white-hot, boiling anger. It emerged so quickly, Gepard didn’t see it coming. By the time he realized how he felt, he was already stepping forward and forcing himself to stare directly into the vortex of power that was this white-haired Sampo.

“I am sick,” Gepard hissed, “of you running off with no warning. I’m sick of you refusing to tell me what’s going on with you.” He paused, collecting himself and taking a deep breath. When he next spoke, his voice was cold. “You want me to trust you? Then talk to me”

Sampo stared at Gepard in silence for a brief second. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, and his eyes flitted downward so quickly, Gepard almost missed it. He thought, for a moment, that Sampo had glanced at his lips, but when he opened his mouth and tasted copper, he realized his nose had started to bleed.

Sampo took a step back, and the pressure building behind Gepard’s eyes receded. “Fine,” Sampo relented, audibly strained. “Just don’t try to be a hero.” He smiled then, that familiar lopsided grin that made Gepard’s heart race. As angry as he was, that smile was as contagious as ever.

“No promises,” Gepard said. Sampo chuckled quietly, tipping his hat.

After a moment, Sampo flicked his hat into its original position and huffed a short, almost imperceptible sigh. “Alright, Gep,” he said, giving Gepard an apologetic look. “Hold on tight and don’t let go, okay?”

Without warning, Sampo’s hands were knocking Gepard off his feet. Gepard tried to right himself, only to be caught and held in a bridal carry. He couldn’t suppress his shocked yelp when his body jerked, and the floor seemed to drop from beneath them as the sky turned dark. He gripped Sampo’s coat so tightly, he thought he heard fabric tear.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The sound of laughter bounced around his skull, unbalancing him and making him dizzy. His stomach lurched, but he forced himself to keep his lunch down. Disoriented, he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Sampo was saying something unintelligible. Gently, he lowered Gepard to the ground, then backed away quickly. The pressure behind Gepard’s eyes lessened just enough for his vision to clear.

He was back in Belobog. He recognized this alley as the one between Isabelle’s Boutique and the jeweler. Gepard forced a deep breath, collecting himself. He could hear Sampo’s words, a strained “are you okay” they he was clearly trying and failing to make casual.

Gepard took a step back, wiping another drop of blood from his upper lip. His nose was still bleeding. “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s go. Lead the way.”

Sampo scoffed, chuckling lowly. The sound made Gepard shudder. It still wasn’t the other Sampo’s cruel laugh, but it was audibly angry. “No need,” Sampo drawled. “I’m what she wants. She’ll come to me.”

A high-pitched giggle floated past Gepard’s ears. He whirled around, his guard raising. Sitting on the fence separating the alley from the street was the other Sampo, staring down at Gepard and looking like a hungry fox that had caught a field mouse.

“Wow,” he sang teasingly. “How selfish! Not everything is about you, you know!” He kicked his feet idly, then jerked forward. Instinct commanded Gepard to run to catch this person who looked like Sampo. He only managed a single step forward before Sampo landed perfectly on his feet.

The white-haired Sampo rolled his eyes. “You say that while wearing my face,” he muttered under his breath. “Take off your mask, Sparkle, or I’ll have to do it for you.”

The other Sampo’s grin sharpened into something closer to a snarl. “You’re no fun,” he bemoaned. He reached toward his face, and with a flash of light, Sampo was gone. Standing in his place was a short woman dressed in shades of red, with two long brown pigtails.

Just as Gepard connected her appearance with the doll, he remembered where he had seen the doll’s likeness before. Months before, when Sampo had shown Gepard photos of his trip to Penacony, there had been several pictures of this same woman. Sampo had even spoken to this “Sparkle” woman in front of Gepard before, and yet Gepard hadn’t made the connection to her appearance.

He didn’t have time to curse his own obliviousness. Sparkle’s vibrant ruby eyes locked on his, filling with razor-sharp amusement. She stepped closer, ignoring the way Sampo— the real Sampo— bristled as she approached.

“You weren’t lying,” she giggled. “Blondie really is cute!” She darted forward, stopped only by Gepard’s chilled gauntlet pressing into her neck where he’d caught her. His grip was loose, only a warning, but it was enough to stop Sparkle from getting any closer. At least, for now.

“Stay right where you are,” Gepard ordered coldly. “You have put countless lives at risk with your actions, and it’s my duty to ensure that you see justice. Under the authority of the Supreme Guardian, you’re under arrest.”

To Gepard’s chagrin, Sparkle only laughed, ignoring him and looking up at Sampo. “No wonder you like him so much,” she teased. “He’s such a killjoy! Just like you!”

A hand rested on Gepard’s shoulder. He didn’t need to look to see that it belonged to Sampo. Sampo’s grip was tight, but not uncomfortable. Gepard wanted to move to a better position, but he got the impression that he wouldn’t be able to if he tried. The laughter in his ears kept him rooted in place.

“I told you,” Sampo said, his voice low and trembling with fury, “to stay off my planet.” His grip tightened slightly, and he spoke as if he owned Jarilo-VI. He wasn’t claiming the planet as his home. He was claiming it as his possession.

Sparkle rolled her eyes, then giggled, pressing her neck into Gepard’s hand. The look in her eyes was challenging, daring him to crush her windpipe. Like it would be fun to see him try.

“When have I ever listened to you, silly?” Sparkle fluttered her eyelashes mockingly. “You think just because you have your mask back, you’re the boss of me? Aha would be disappointed in you!”

“We both know that’s not true.” Sampo finally released Gepard’s shoulder, reaching out and placing a hand on Gepard’s. Gently, he pried the Captain’s fingers away from Sparkle’s neck, lowering his hand to his side. Sampo was pressed into Gepard’s back now, his warmth familiar and comforting.

Sampo let out a deep sigh, and the aura of power surrounding him dimmed slightly. “What do you want?” He sounded exhausted. Carefully, he maneuvered Gepard a couple of steps backward, sliding himself between Gepard and Sparkle. His feet were fully touching the ground, and it suddenly struck Gepard how much larger Sampo had appeared before.

Gepard had read about how some pre-freeze animals had threat displays as a child. Some reptiles would rattle or open some sort of ruff to scare off potential attackers. It was a show of aggression, yes, but more importantly, it was a sign that the animal felt threatened by something.

Sampo’s threat display had dropped, leaving only the man Gepard knew and loved. He’d never thought he would consider Sampo “small,” but that’s exactly how the other man appeared now. The mask was off, so to speak, and in turn, Sparkle’s dropped away too.

Her demeanor shifted into something more serious, her smile dropping away. “I wanted to see what you’d do,” she said, her lilting tone now flat. “I mean, can you blame me? Your idea of Elation is so unique, I just had to see it in practice."

Sparkle took a step closer, pressing right up against Sampo and looking directly into his eyes. “So tell me, Ilmari,” she sang. “Are you happy?”

The silence between them was heavy enough to make Gepard feel like he was choking. He didn’t even register what Sparkle had said. He took a hesitant step forward, only to freeze again when Sampo held up his hand in a clear signal to stop. He hated feeling so useless, but he got the message loud and clear: this wasn’t his fight.

Finally, Sampo spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will be.”

Whatever he meant by that, it seemed to be the right answer. Sparkle’s smile returned, and even though Gepard didn’t really know her, it felt more genuine than any other expression she’d made the entire day. She took a step back, ceding ground and allowing Sampo and Gepard space to breathe.

“Good,” Sparkle said with a chuckle. “Then I look forward to our next meeting. You can tell me all about it then.”

Gepard blinked, and Sparkle was gone with little more than a flash of red left behind. Soon, even that was gone, the color whisked away by the wind. The alleyway seemed to hold its breath, and Gepard didn’t know what to do.

After several moments passed, Sampo slumped over so suddenly, Gepard didn’t have time to catch him. His knees hit the pavement with a sharp crack that rang out far too loudly. All at once, the laughter in Gepard’s head disappeared, and Sampo’s white half-mask clattered to the ground.

Gepard finally sprang into action, grabbing Sampo under his arms and forcing him up. Sampo’s extravagant outfit, tailcoat and hat and all, was disappearing into miniature fireworks that made no noise other than a soft giggle or two. Soon, the man was left in his usual outfit, and it was like nothing unusual had ever happened.

Except for his hair, that was. Sampo’s hair was still white, with only a few streaks of his iconic blue peppered in. It reminded Gepaed of when soldiers sometimes came home with white or gray hair, aged prematurely from the horrors of the front lines.

Gepard managed to prop Sampo up, though not without difficulty. The other man felt twice as heavy as usual, and he was completely limp. For a moment, Gepard worried he had passed out, but Sampo was trying to speak.

“Gep— ‘m fine, ‘m fine, don’t—“ Gepard cut him off by gently using one hand to tilt Sampo’s face toward him. Blood was pouring out of Sampo’s nose, and his eyes were rimmed with red. He looked absolutely awful.

Gepard wanted to say so many things. He wanted to scream at Sampo. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to kiss him and then slap him, or to shove him into the nearest trade ship and never let him back into Belobog again.

He did none of those things. He just swallowed his feelings and pulled Sampo closer, bracing him with his own broad shoulders. “Sampo,” Gepard whispered gently. “Please just let me take you home.”

Sampo looked like he wanted to argue, but a shiver wracked his body. With visible effort, he nodded weakly and took a single step. Together, the two walked out of the alleyway, utterly silent except for Sampo’s ragged breaths.

A young woman’s laughter followed them, echoing as they walked.