Chapter Text
Nighttime at the clinic is usually the same. Natasha cleans up whatever she can, checking supplies, writing down missing items, filing papers. Monotonous is the only word for it. Monotonous, except for the nights where the back window’s lock gets picked open with a business card, and Sampo hauls himself inside with a clatter of his body against a table, and all the things previously on it against the floor.
“Miss Natasha!” He laughs, clearly trying to distract her from the mess he’s made, as well as his visible bruises. “How’s your night been? I missed you!”
She smiles, Sampo’s silly charm doing its usual work on her. “Hmm, fine. I had a feeling some miscreant was going to break in tonight.” She picks him up from the floor, receiving a small surprised sound, and carries him to their usual seats on nights like these. She sets him down, clearly enjoying his still-surprised expression. Picking him up was absolutely unnecessary, but seeing him stunned was always a joy. “So what’s the damage tonight?”
“Ah, nothing bad. Managed to get a black eye, unfortunately, so I’m not quite as handsome anymore,” He mopes. “I think I sprained my wrist too. I fell and landed on it, now it’s just stiff and sore.”
She hums in understanding, turning to gather supplies.
“Oh, and the delivery should be coming soon, they weren’t able to get it to me tonight. Fortunately, my new intel,” He smirks, “should be coming with it.”
“That’s good, that’s good.” She hands him an ice pack, and he quietly nurses his bruise while she inspects his wrist. “So who beat you up tonight?”
“Some miner. Aeons forbid a man need some time! I wasn’t quite ready to hold up my end of the deal, but he demanded it right then! So he just decided to fight me for it. He almost stole my wallet…”
“Hm. So what did you do?”
“Got him with a smoke bomb and ran off before he could do anymore damage. I hid for like an hour or so to make sure he wasn’t following before I came.”
“So you were scared?”
“Yes— wait, no!!”
She laughs, and he quietly watches her start to work, observing her face. The small smile lingering on her lips, the furrow in her brow as she looks over his wrist, her eyes carefully inspecting, her hands moving skillfully. Sure, he thinks, she’s just looking over my wrist and moving it around a little, but her medical expertise- and the beauty she naturally possesses, of course- is mesmerizing, honestly. Wait no is this an internal dialogue?? Can you read this? GET OUT???
“Yes, this just seems like a sprain. It’ll probably be sore for a while, all that I can do is wrap it for you and recommend you ice it.”
“That’s good.”
She gets to work on wrapping it up, checking to make sure it’s not too tight, and he moves his ice pack to his wrist. “Are you going to run back off after this?”
“Umm… I thought to stay. It’s around dinnertime, yeah? Figured I could stick around for some of your cooking.”
“Gonna steal half of my dinner?”
“Just a little! I don’t need a lot. Gotta keep my girlish figure, y’know.” He laughs, waving a hand as if to dismiss the idea.
Natasha rolls her eyes. “I’ll make more, silly. You deserve a meal, girlish figure and criminal record or not.”
“Oh!” Now that was new. No one had ever really offered that. He scoffs and shrugs it off, trying to keep himself together.
“I’ll take you up to my flat, we’ll eat. Maybe I’ll let you crash on my couch, if you ask nicely.”
Her words are like a sucker punch. Sampo Koski is not a man that often gets nervous around a pretty lady, and yet here he sits, eyes wide and nearly slack-jawed. He’s the most charismatic man in this star system, he’s sure, but Natasha is different. She’s a business partner of his, but she’s also an ally— a friend, dare he say— but the offer of coming to her house? To eat with her? Maybe even sleep there? This isn’t right, the fluttery feeling in his stomach tells him that much, but it’s not a trap either. She wouldn’t do that… right? The only way to really know is to wait and see what happens.
She chuckles. “It’d be better than that cave you sleep in. No judgment here, of course, but surely it must be cold…”
“Wait, you know-?”
“The Dark-Blue Belobog Caveman? Fast, leaves no footprints, hardly ever caught on camera, and even rarer to be run into in person? Who else could it be?”
He hisses, grinning. “Oh I dunno… Miss Seele.”
Natasha scoffs. “Oh sure! Seele managed to get to the Overworld and hide out in the snowy wilderness.”
“It’d be more exciting than me!”
“You’re always exciting. Especially when you barge in here and make a mess.”
He looks back to his entryway, several items strewn about from a table he knocked over. “Oh, yeah. I’ll, ah… clean that up.”
“Thank you. I’ll finish up over here and we’ll go up to eat, alright?”
“You were serious?”
“Of course, silly!”
Alright, the dinner offer was serious. Just gotta play it cool to get more information now…
“Um… why?” Oh yeah, real smooth.
“Hm?”
“I mean, why are you letting me come over to eat? And sleep?”
“Because you need it. I’m a doctor, and I’m not one to deny a patient's treatment. I think you need a good home cooked meal and a good night's rest away from the cold.”
She seems so honest when she says it. It feels too good to be true, but the way she smiles… no, being smitten has never gotten Sampo anywhere good. The last time he trusted someone so fervently he got strung up and made to dance, played like a damn fiddle. So why— despite his knee-jerk reaction to decline— was it so tempting to stay with her?
“Uhh… okay, yeah! Cool. Great. I’ll uh… yeah. Yeah, cool. Great. Right-o! That’s… yeah…” He trails off, the silence lasting just long enough to make the situation even more awkward. “..Awesome.” I hate myself.
Mulling over that awful interaction, and enjoying her laughter a little too much, he cleaned up his mess, stealing a glance at her before kicking himself over the fact that he’s just making everything more awkward. Still, he couldn’t help but feel she was also looking at him.
After cleaning and recovering mentally from his slip-up, Natasha finishes her sorting. She looks at him, the usual sparkle in her eyes never faltering.
“Alright, that should be good. Come on, I’ll lock up and we’ll go.”
He says nothing, for fear of stumbling over his words again and shattering his ego further, so he just follows quietly and watches her lock the doors. She tucks the key behind a loose brick in the wall, looking back at him. Was she checking to see if he saw, so he didn’t have to barge in through the window? Who knows, but he tucks it away in his memory for when this inevitably happens again. Natasha guides him gently as she passes to lead him up the steps to the flat above.
It’s a small place, only one room, with a shoddy kitchenette, a bed pushed into an adjacent corner, and a desk and bookshelf pushed into another. A small couch sits in the middle, worn down in one spot where Natasha must sit.
“Alright, ah… I don’t have much to cook, so I’ll see what I have. Make yourself at home in the meantime.” She smiles up at him as she looks around in her small pantry. Sampo sits on the couch, opposite the well-loved spot, deciding to count his cash; the pastime of the wealthy! One, two, three-hundred from the day to add to his emergency funds, and another hundred for spending. Not much, but enough to get by for the month. Why didn’t he move into a cave sooner? The lack of rent payments or hotel fees almost makes the freezing temperature worth it. Key word: almost.
“Alright, I’m gonna be honest, all I have is pasta.” Natasha says, saving him from his usual existential spiral due to his lifestyle. “Is that okay?”
“Anything you want is fine, Tasha.”
“‘Tasha’? That’s a new one.”
He flusters at her remark. “A-ah, sorry.”
“No, don’t be! I like the nickname. You can call me Tasha.”
“Uhh… alright. I will. B-but yeah, anything you wanna make is fine.”
“Do you want to help me make it?”
This is… all very new. He hasn’t really cooked anything in years, outside of the crappy soup he throws together in the middle of the night over a fire. Although, it’s pretty hard to mess up pasta. Messing up pasta is probably the least of his concerns right now though, with the burning in his cheeks. Oh, why not?
“Yeah. That’d be fun.”