Work Text:
Gepard wouldn't know it, but he smells like summer.
It's a riveting smell all on its own, but in a winter wasteland like Belobog? It's divine, all citrus and sunshine. It's got a certain warmth to it that Sampo sometimes craves with a heady desperation, the type of scent he could bask in for eternity and never get tired of.
It's ironic. Even moreso because Gepard has no clue— and how would he? What concept does he have of the changing of seasons? If he remembers life before the great freeze, those memories have to be slim to none, assuming they exist at all.
Sampo almost wishes he could show him. Let him experience the sear of the sun, endless rolling hills of green and the flowers that dot them. Maybe then he'd understand why Sampo does... uh. This.
"Are you—" Gepard squirmed uncomfortably, face rapidly reddening into that gorgeous cherry red. Sampo wishes he could follow that blush down, see how far it went. "—Are you sniffing me? Again?"
Oops.
It's not as bad as it sounds, he swears. He sometimes runs into Gepard when the man gets off work, entirely on accident. Completely by mistake. Sampo definitely hasn't memorized his route home, because that would be weird and obsessive of him. Hence why he hasn't done it.
It's by pure coincidence that they run into one another when Gepard is dressed down, the layers of his uniform fully shed. Armor gone, wool padding absent. Soft sweaters and worn jeans take their place, and as coincidental as those encounters definitely, 100% are, Sampo can't deny he looks amazing.
Which isn't the point. The point is it's all by accident, and sometimes they get into scuffles. Gepard gives chase, as he is so prone to doing, and Sampo will usually end up getting caught. On accident! Because Gepard is a lot faster without however many pounds of metal he usually has weighing him down, that's all.
They fight a bit, but Gepard is a tank at his core. He's more about defense than offense, and out of his armor? He's smaller, with less sharp edges to his name. With his little waist and soft hands and slim shoulders, which—
Also aren't the point. The point is, Sampo is bigger than him. What easier way to stop someone smaller than you than by locking your arms around them and picking them up?
"Sniffing? Who's sniffing?" Sampo beamed up at him as innocently as he could, their faces so close he could feel Gepard's breath fanning the bridge of his nose. "I'm just a wee bit winded from our harrowing chase, that's all! You should be proud, Gep! Not many can steal the air from my lungs like you can."
Sampo, who'd maybe-kinda-definitely been sniffing him, winked obnoxiously. Gepard's blush deepened, as did his scowl. He began squirming with renewed vigor, and it was by the grace of Aha that Sampo was able to keep a grip on him. But keep grip did he ever.
Gepard was a line of heat against his front that he never wanted to let go, tucked in like a perfect fit. And okay, maybe Sampo's convenient methods verge on the side of self indulgence. Barely. Slightly.
It's just— how else is he supposed to get this close to Gepard?! He needs his fix, you know? Sampo can see every shade of blue in his irises from this close, swirling around his pupil like a maelstrom. The gold of his hair is stunning, wilder than usual after their chase.
And again, the smell. It wafts off him like a lit candle's scent, all things bright and happy. Sampo doesn't know when he started to feel this way about Gepard. He doesn't even really care. He enjoys it too much, enjoys how it makes him feel too much, to bother wondering.
Sampo stares just as shamelessly as he does every time this (coincidentally) happens. Idly, he wonders what it'd be like to be closer than he is now. To wake up in a warm bed to this smell every morning. To hold it in his hands, taste it on his lips. Gepard smells like freshly squeezed oranges. If Sampo could meld them together into one, he would.
Sampo wants to drown in him. He wants to see him smile and hear him laugh— to be the reason he does. Gepard fills him with such elation, and isn't that it? Elation is something he has searched for endlessly, and never has he found it so potently as it exists here, right in front of him.
"...Are you going to let me go anytime soon?" Gepard asks after his further attempts at escape fail. His gaze darts back to Sampo's eyes, which have yet to so much as glance away from his face. He squints. "Are you sure you're not sniffing me?"
"If I was, what would you do about it?" Sampo's grin widens. What he feels is too overwhelming to hide, so he doesn't. He smiles, probably very dopily, instead. "Not like you can go anywhere right now, o' captain my captain! Guess you'll just have to deal."
"Because you won't release me." Gepard's scowl returned. His nose scrunched like a disgruntled kitten's, diabolical levels of adorable. "This isn't a feasible long-term plan, nor can you keep getting away with this. Another account of assaulting and restraining an officer will be added to your laundry list of crimes, Koski."
"Goodie me." Sampo squeezed Gepard tighter, earning a grunt of dismay for his troubles. With his arms pinned to his sides, all Gepard could really do was glare at him and attempt another kick. "Assault and restraint are rather harsh words, aren't they? Let's call this a hug and go our separate ways, no hard feelings about it!"
Gepard looked offended by the mere suggestion.
"If this is what you think a hug is, I fear you've never actually had one." Gepard leaned back as far as he could, arms flexing. "You'll wear out eventually, and you'll be behind bars as soon as— stop sniffing me!"
"I'm sorry! You smell good!" Sampo's whine trailed into a laugh despite himself. He beamed even wider. "And was that an offer to show me how to hug that I detected? Why, it's almost enough to make me give up my life of crime!"
Sampo felt deliriously happy, like he could die right now and be perfectly fine with it. With Gepard in his arms, against his will as it was, he felt like he could do anything. Tracing the curve of Gepard's nose and jaw with his eyes, the red of his cheeks and the flustered twinkle of his irises.
It was perfect. If every decision Sampo has ever made before has led him to this exact moment, he can't say he regrets a single one. Not if it got him this. Not if this is what it let him feel.
Gepard's expression does something complicated. Sampo soaks it up like a sponge, memorizing every twitch. He's enamored and he knows it, and he knows he's projecting it out like a beacon into the night sky. He simply doesn't care. He's too happy to.
"Would..." Gepard trailed off, glancing away. His flush deepened. "Theoretically, would you... stay out of trouble? I-If I did do that, I mean."
Sampo blinked, momentarily taken off guard. His grip loosened without his meaning it to, something Gepard took immediate advantage of. He wrenched himself backwards, skipping back several steps and watching Sampo with wary eyes.
"If you did do what?" Sampo asked dumbly. Gepard looked even more embarrassed.
"I've just— I've never heard you joke about playing nice before. Ever. If... If you— if I—" Gepard looked ready to combust. Sampo is delighted. "If... Would a hug—"
Oh. Oh! Oh, all his wildest dreams are coming true. Sampo doesn't even have to think about this one to know his answer.
"Yes! A thousand times yes!" Sampo lurched forward. Gepard's shoulders hunched, his eyes rounding as Sampo grabbed him by the upper arms. "One hug a day, a minimum of twenty minutes per hug, and you have my word! No more scams, scandals, or anything in-between! Cross my heart and hope to fly!"
"What kind of hug is twenty minutes?" Gepard asked, flummoxed. He paused right after. "I— wait, really?"
"Yes, really. What, you think I don't have other, legal ways to make money? Sampo Koski is a man of many talents." Sampo beamed. "I do it for fun, but this is more than worth it! What're the stipulations? Can we go to your house? Mine? Oh! No armor when we hug! I like it when you wear sweaters best."
Sampo scams people because scamming people is funny. It's equal parts hilarious and satisfying to cheat idiots out of their money, but compared to this?
No contest. Gepard makes him feel like he's on top of the world. If he can get uninterrupted, mutual hugging time from him? Daily? Easiest trade of his life. Half the reason Sampo was committing crimes was to see him, to have even an ounce of his attention in the first place.
This is so much better. This is a door Gepard never should've opened, because Sampo is never going to let it close. He's a business man at his core. He knows when a deal benefits him, and this one? It's the first step to several he nary imagined he'd get to take.
"You—" Gepard's face flushed deeper. His fingers twitched. "You're lying."
"I absolutely am not and I'm appalled you think I'd joke about this." Sampo gave him a slight shake. "I've spent the last four months sporadically cornering you on your way home just so I can bear hug you, and you think I'm passing up the chance to have that reciprocated? Gently? Where I can sniff you all I want?"
Gepard looks horrifically embarrassed. This is by far the reddest he's ever been. Sampo wants to make out with him for an hour straight and propose over a shared sundae at a scenic cafe.
There's a moment of silence between them. Gepard looks to be thinking, clearly weighing his options. Catching Sampo is a pipe dream and he knows it. Containing him is an even bigger one. The few times the Silvermane have gotten him behind bars, he's gotten out without a trace every single time.
Sampo bites his lip eagerly to try and contain his grin, teetering back on the balls of his feet. Their game of cat and mouse hasn't been that serious for a while now, and Sampo knows Gepard is aware of this. Ever since the Trailblazers tore through, there's been a subtle shift. The animosity is gone.
Another few beats of silence go by. Gepard glances up uncertainly, perhaps waiting for the punchline. News flash, there isn't one. Sampo is having the time of his life. With Gepard around, he always is.
"...Really?" Gepard asked, voice barely a whisper.
"Really." Sampo swore, with all the eagerness in the world. "I promise. And when I promise something, I don't go back on it."
Gepard gazed up at him for a moment longer before hesitantly, shyly, opening his arms. Sampo inhaled sharply, heart racing. He was on him in seconds.
Sampo's arms wrapped around him, gentler than the locks he usually had to put him in to be this close, but firm enough to feel secure. He buried his face in Gepard's hair blatantly, practically melting into him. He could feel Gepard tense up for a moment before relaxing, his arms raising to carefully hold him back.
If Sampo had any tension left in him, it was gone now. Gepard felt warmer like this, somehow. Sampo's love for him is like a never-ending tidal wave, peaking high and landing with this overwhelming crash before doing it all over again.
Sampo never thought he'd be allowed this close, and now he'll get to have this every day? Gepard, willingly around him not because he was provoked, but because he offered?
Sampo should ask for his ring size right now. Might as well. Gepard fed the stray, and Sampo's going nowhere. Nothing short of death could keep him away from this, and he doesn't care if that's psychotic, or obsessive, or over the top. It's true.
"You'll really stop?" Gepard murmured embarrassedly, face buried in Sampo's shoulder. Sampo could feel his nose digging into the fabric of his jacket. Abruptly, he wished he'd worn less layers.
"As long as you keep hugging me every day?" Sampo inhaled. "Gep, I'll do whatever you want."
Citrus, sunshine, summer. Belobog is the coldest planet Sampo has ever ventured onto, from its rugged snow plains to its biting winds. It's a true tundra.
Standing in this alley, this is the warmest he thinks he's ever been.