Chapter Text
Yuri Briar never got nervous.
As a student he had walked confidently into every midterm and final exam, picked up his pencil with utter calm, and gotten to work for the allotted hour without a single uptick in his heart rate. He scoffed at all his sweating, fidgeting classmates who’d been too lazy to prepare properly. If you were prepared, there was never a reason to be nervous.
When he’d first started at work, his colleagues had hyped up the prospect of his first interrogation to ridiculous levels. You can’t be indecisive, can’t hesitate a millisecond or they’ll think they can play you. Especially with that baby face. Maybe you should try good cop first.
Again he had scoffed at all the bravado and hot air. All the traitors and criminals they brought in on a daily basis were less than worms to him. Worms that had made the mistake of crawling onto the sidewalk where they’d meet the heavy heel of his boot.
Good cop, bad cop. He’d played both roles simultaneously from his first day in the box. Director Wilker himself had heard about his brutal effectiveness in breaking his first perp. Tactics in his unit had changed after that. They didn’t do good cop, bad cop when Yuri was around. They did bad and worse.
Even when those delusional soap opera terrorists had stormed the TV tower, he hadn’t felt an ounce of fear. Not for his own life, at least. Only for his dear sister’s safety.
In the week since that debacle, aside from the hours of documentation he’d had to fill out as the sole SSS witness on the scene, he’d spent the rest of the time stewing on his utter failure to protect his sister. He hadn’t been able to think of a way to smuggle her out of the tower. Then he’d gotten sidetracked by the excitement of seeing her shine so beautifully under the spotlight as a newly minted actress. He’d been too slow to shield her from an upraised gun. Loid Forger had gotten there first.
Loid Forger had also saved her from having to kiss that actor, again because Yuri had been too slow. All his academic genius and intimidating reputation had meant nothing when it really mattered.
It was you who pulled it off, Yuri, the man had deflected cheerfully. With that idiotic happy grin plastered to his face despite the fact they were still hostages held at gunpoint. What an amateur. They were lucky none of the terrorists had noticed.
And now…
Now, more than a week later, Yuri was nervous for the first time in his adult life. Because he was about to do something—several things—he’d never done before.
- Call Loid Forger.
- Thank him again for saving his sister, and make sure he didn’t deflect this time.
- Invite him out for drinks. Ugh, he might vomit when he got to that part. If he hadn’t vomited already.
- Assuming the man accepted (of course he would, he was the biggest kiss-ass Yuri had ever met), he would actually have to meet him at the bar on Saturday night. The alcohol would make it even harder not to throw up.
But Yuri Briar would not back down from the call of his conscience this time. More importantly, it would make his sister happy. Spending one nauseous evening with his number one enemy (in the civilian world, at least) was a small price to pay for that precious reward.
He picked up the phone and dialed quickly, not allowing himself to delay any further. He could only hope his sister answered first, so he could savor a few seconds of joy before the drudgery.
“Good even-ning, Agent Anya speaking. Over.”
Just his luck, the brat would pick up instead of either of her parents. And she was still obsessed with spies. He would need to have a talk with Yor about curtailing seditious influences in the kid’s life.
“Chihuahua Girl. Is my sister there?” Yuri said brusquely.
“Error, error. That’s not Anya’s code name.”
He ground his teeth and restrained himself from rebuking her, grateful for the faint sound of footsteps and a lightly scolding voice in the background. Static crackled in his ear as the phone changed hands.
“So sorry about that. Hello?”
The glower on his face instantly melted away.
“Sis! How have you been?”
“Oh, Yuri! We’ve been good here! How about you?”
His smile twitched. He didn’t care to know about the rest of the Forgers. Just her. And yet it seemed she couldn’t help but speak of them as a collective.
“Has anyone been harassing you on the street?” he pressed. “Any paparazzi stalking you?”
“What? No, no one’s bothered me.”
“Good. What about the talent agencies then? Has anyone reached out to you about building an acting career?”
“No, I don’t want that kind of attention!”
“But you deserve the recognition, sis. You brought Bumblina to life like no one else could! And under extreme pressure, too!”
“N-no, Yuri, I was terrible. You even had to switch with me because I couldn’t take it, remember?”
In the back of his mind he knew there was another reason he’d called, but it definitely wasn’t as important as affirming his sister. She was perfect in every way. So incredibly talented, beautiful, and strong, and yet the most humble person on earth. Loid Forger clearly wasn’t affirming her enough if she still thought so little of herself.
“Well that’s because those deranged criminals were going to force you to kiss a man who wasn’t your husband!” Yuri growled, then faltered.
Her husband. Right. Her husband (bleghhh) was the reason he had called.
“Er…anyway…listen, Yor, I’m calling because…well…”
He mumbled the rest of the sentence to himself, halfheartedly hoping Yor could hear.
“Yuri? Are you still there?”
He sighed quietly. “…I want to talk to Loidy.”
Yor was silent. Yuri found himself holding his breath. Had he mumbled too much yet again?
“Uh, sis, is Loi—”
“Oh!” Yor exclaimed. “Y-yes, Loid is here! Let me go get him.”
More fumbling and static. Had Yor been that shocked? Why hadn’t he articulated himself better? The whole point of this was to make his sister happy, not cause her to worry more!
“Hello?”
The sound of Loid Forger’s voice wiped all concerns from his mind. He could practically hear the fakeass plastic smile through the phone.
“Loid Forger,” Yuri said curtly. “Are you free Saturday night?”
More silence. Yuri ground his teeth again. He couldn’t have enunciated any more clearly. What part of that had been confusing?
“I said—”
“I should be, I believe. Is everything alright, Yuri?”
No, I’m forcing myself to socialize with you. In public.
“Yes. Meet me at the Porch and Cellar on Third. 9 PM. Don’t be late or you won’t get another chance.”
“Uh, okay. Another chance for what?”
The bastard really was gonna make him say it. In fact he was probably playing dumb just to savor his discomfort.
“Drinks on me for stepping in front of that gun,” Yuri snapped. “But don’t get me wrong, I’ll be faster next time. If anyone’s taking a bullet for Yor, it’ll be me, got it, Forger?”
“Oh, that’s a very generous invitation but it won’t be—”
“Don’t. Be. Late.”
Yuri slammed the phone down with more force than intended. He took a deep breath as if coming out of the box after cracking one of those annoying sycophantic perps. Which Loid Forger basically was.
Steps one to three completed without vomiting. He would count that as a success. Step four however was yet to be seen.