Work Text:
Three months prior
The Russian self-proclaimed "god" stood before a petrified detective agency. He had already destroyed half of the Port Mafia by himself, killed several executives. Even Ranpo was losing his cool as his turned his head and rocked back and forth on the counter of the cafe bar. Kyouka hid behind the desk with Atsushi and Lucy. Kunikida nervously flipped through his notebook to calm himself as he looked at Dazai, their only hope.
"May we help you?" Dazai asked with his arms crossed.
"I've come to purge this agency of its sinners." Fyodor Dostoevsky smiled.
"Atsushi," Dazai turned to his subordinate. "Come and give our guest your signature fluffy welcome,"
Atsushi twitched as he slowly got up from his shelter beneath the cafe table. "H-Hello? D-Do you need something?"
The Russian stepped towards Atsushi and put his fingers to the were-tigers forehead.
"Crime and punishment...,"
Nothing happened.
The Russian hacker's eyes widened as Atsushi just stood there. "Y-You...,"
"What?"
"You have done no crime, so I cannot punish you."
"I haven't?" Atsushi looked at his forehead, then down to his stomach. He had eaten people as a were-tiger. "I've eaten people, though--"
"The tiger and you are two different souls that exist in one body. My ability can only punish humans." Fyodor answered. "The tiger is a incarnation of Artemis."
"The Greek goddess of the hunt and the moon," Kunikida paused, "So does that mean--"
"It seems as if Artemis thought to place herself inside of you in order to protect the Guide to the Book of the Dead."
"I guess that explains the tiger's regeneration ability." Dazai looked at Atsushi. "After all, an immortal like Artemis can't be killed,"
"Da," The Russian looked at closer at Atsushi. He placed his hand on the young boy's cheek. "Your skin is as smooth as the Grecian statues."
Present Day
"Dos-kun, can you stop by the grocery store? It's Thursday and they have their special sales. Yes, you can meat, we've been over this. I don't mind making meat dishes, I just won't eat them, so that means more for you. Yes, I know. Remember to get flour this time. I don't know, whatever brand's on sale, I guess." Atsushi called over the phone as he sat in his office chair. "Oh, sure! Make sure to look for what sort of tea they have. Yeah, I'll ask Ranpo if he wants to come over tomorrow and play some card games. Yeah, I know. Ok, bye, see you after work!"
"It's hard to believe it's been three months since the end of the Guild War," Tanizaki stretched. "Are you and Dos going to do anything special?"
"I don't know. I've been trying to look up some Russian recipes to try out. I'm pretty nervous, honestly."
"Hey, don't be, I'm sure you'll be fine!"
"I hope so. Dos has been more spacey and quiet than usual lately."
"Really?" Tanizaki asked. How is that humanly possible?
"I feel really bad. I bet he's homesick." Atsushi sighed. "He hasn't been back to Russia since we started dating. I mean, all I can think about is if this situation was reversed and I was in Russia for all this time...,"
"Yeah, you're probably right." Tanizaki nodded. "Hey, don't beat yourself up, though. It's not something you can help. You can't control how he feels."
"True,"
"Just do something cute for him. Play some polka, listen to some Polina Gagarina, or buy that Russian beer he really likes. Is it Baltika 7 or 9? You're already looking up Russian recipes. It's not like you're completely ignoring where he came from,"
"I guess so,"
"Hey, if anyone can cheer that weirdo up, it's you. Go get 'em, tiger."
"You were just waiting to say that."
"Maybe...ok, yes, yes I was."
That night Dostoevsky sat by the table as he watched his darling were-tiger crash on the futon after a long day at the agency. The white-haired nineteen-year-old looked up at the Russian.
"Is something wrong? You've been more out of it than usual, Dos-kun," the weretiger looked at the Russian. The gambler peered back at his boyfriend.
"The Motherland...,"
"You miss it?" Atsushi sat down, his legs crossed. "I've been thinking about trying to make some Russian recipes. Pierogies, to be specific, but it looks a little too hard for me, so I was wondering if you-"
"I know how to make pierogies."
"You do?"
"Da." Fyodor nodded. "Bubba always made them. Pierogies, kielbasa, haluski, beets, black bread...,"
"Could you help me, please? It's heartbreaking seeing you all depressed like this."
"Da."
The were-tiger cleared off the counter and prepared the ingredients: farmer's cheese, potatoes flour, boiling water, butter, black pepper, onions, and eggs.
"Flour your hands." Dostoevsky instructed. "First, make the dough. You have recipe, right?" The were-tiger nodded.
After he whipped up the dough, Dostoevsky helped roll it out. "Now cut out circles of it and put it on a pan with parchment paper. Now put in the farmer's cheese and mashed potatoes,"
"Ok, in the center of it, right?"
"Da, now make sure that there's no holes when you fold it in half, or it'll break open when you boil it."
"Ok," Atsushi nodded as he pressed down the dough into crescent-shapes.
"Now put it into the boiling water until it floats upward. Then remove, let it cool a little, and put it in a river of butter and sauteed onions."
After about thirty minutes, they were sitting at the table. Dostoevsky, being the religious man that he was, blessed the food as they ate. Atsushi smiled, proud of his work. It wasn't easy trying out new recipes from scratch, but it was rewarding. He looked up to see the Russian hacker cry for the first time.
"A-Are you alright?"
"...Nyet...,"
"Did we do something wrong-"
"Nyet, nyet, it's just...they remind me a lot of bubba's,"
"Oh," Atsushi looked down at the pierogies. "I've been suspecting that you've been homesick for a while, actually. Is that true?"
Dostoevsky looked away, and then back at his boyfriend. "Da,"
"I'm sorry."
"Bubba would've put more in more onions."
"I'll remember that next time."
"Thank you, though."
"You're-" Dostoevsky planted a onion-scented kiss on Atsushi's lips and then went back to his dinner.
"Food is a funny thing. It brings out the true nature of people," the Russian popped in another piece of a pierogi into his mouth.
"It does,"