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Fyodor awoke to a piercing scream, followed by several sharp cries.
His first thought was ‘dammit, why is Nikolai torturing people in the middle of the night?’, then he realised Nikolai wasn’t there. He was supposed to be in America, checking out an organisation primarily made up of ability users.
Only as he was considering the possibility of an intruder somehow being in his very well hidden house, did he remember the child he and Kolya had taken in a week ago.
His self-proclaimed son.
Fuck
Launching himself out of bed, the Russian sprinted into the young boy’s room.
If anyone hurt his child he would make sure they suffered. He would gouge out their eyes, slowly break every bone in their body and cut off their tongue so he wouldn’t have to listen to their god-awful screaming.
However, when he reached Atsushi’s room he was not met with the sight of someone standing over the bed, but instead the boy was alone in his room and wasn’t even awake.
He was thrashing in his sleep, covered in sweat. His cries were now more like whimpers.
Nightmares.
Damn.
Fyodor was not prepared to deal with nightmares of all things. No, he was much more apt at causing nightmares than helping someone through them.
But Nikolai wasn’t here and as much as he hated to admit it, seeing the small boy struggle like this physically hurt his heart, as cold and stony as it may be.
Although, he supposed, it wasn’t exactly unprecedented given the circumstances in which Kolya and he had found the child.
Fyodor prided himself on always being the smartest person in the room and being able to improvise if things went wrong (which they never did; when he planned something it always went perfectly). But for the first time in his rather long life he found himself freezing, his mind completely blank.
He couldn’t bear to stand by and do nothing while his son cried, but he knew very little about the horrors he must have endured at that awful orphanage and was worried that an action as simple as touching the boy could trigger him and make the situation worse.
Yes. The great Demon Fyodor was worried. And wasn’t that a weird feeling.
Suddenly Atsushi screamed again, breaking Fyodor out of his stupor.
“Papa!”
Fyodor didn’t have time to wonder who exactly the boy was addressing: in a matter of seconds he was crouching at the side of the small bed, tentatively reaching a hand out to hover above the child’s shoulder. He cautiously placed it there in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
It didn’t seem to have much of an effect considering Atsushi was asleep, although his screams did quieten almost instantaneously.
“Atsushi. It’s me, Fyodor. Fedya. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, you need to wake up.”
He gently shook the child in the hopes of waking him.
The boy himself whimpered weakly but remained stubbornly asleep.
The Russian groaned to himself. He knew that technically he did sign up for this when he took Atsushi, but he really hadn’t expected to have to do this by himself. This was Nikolai’s idea! He should have to deal with the feelings and emotions involved in being a parent, not Fyodor!
Clueless of what to do, he suddenly remembered something from his childhood, the faint echo of a lullaby, broken and uncertain yet right there, so close he could somehow taste the sunlight it produced.
Bayu-bayushki-bayu
Ne lozhisya na krayu
Pridet seren’kiy volchok
I ukhvatit za bochok
He wasn’t sure where it came from, lacking any contextual memories, but he rejoiced that his son seemed to finally be calming down.
On ukhvatit za bochok
I potashchit vo lesok
I potashchit vo lesok
Pod rakitovyy kustok
A moment after he sang the last word, Atsushi’s breathing evened out and his moist eyes slowly blinked open.
Fyodor gently wiped away the lingering tears on the boy’s face before Atsushi hurled himself at him and began sobbing again.
“Please… please… don’t send me back I don’t want to go back, I’m sorry for waking you, please don’t make me go back there…” He trailed off, sniffing and crying as he gripped Fyodor with all of his five-year-old strength.
Feeling very much fed up with not knowing what to do, the man simply put a hand on the child’s back and held him tighter.
“You’re not going back there. Not if I can help it. You’re my son remember, that means we stick together.”
Pulling himself together, Fyodor decided he needed to take back control of the situation. He pried Atsushi off of him and peered at his tear-streaked face.
“Come on, Kotyonok, how about we get you some hot cocoa. You can even have some of those little marshmallows you love. Does that sound alright?”
The boy sniffled but nodded and allowed himself to be picked up and carried to the kitchen.
The kitchen area was quite plain, simply baring a few cupboards above tidy wooden countertops, a stacked fridge and freezer and an oven with a stove on top of it. In the middle was a small wooden table. It had originally come with only two chairs and was the right size for two people but Nikolai had recently procured a third slightly taller chair.
The table got quite overcrowded when they all ate together but they made do.
Fyodor placed Atsushi on the tallest chair and set about gathering the boy’s favourite dinosaur mug, filling it with milk to measure the amount needed, and then pouring it into a pan on the stove before heaping in a considerable amount of chocolate powder and sugar.
Leaving it to simmer lightly, he turned to look at his son who was staring at his hands and fiddling with his pajama sleeves.
“Do you want to tell me what that dream was about?” he questioned softly, making sure that Atsushi wouldn’t feel pressured to tell him anything he wasn’t ready to yet.
The boy was quiet for a while and Fyodor almost turned back to the stove when he started talking.
“I-I dreamt about the h-headmaster,” he began hesitantly. “He said r-really m-mean things to m-me. He s-said no one would want me. That I w-would be useless to y-you and when you get f-fed up of me you would j-just bring me back to the or-orphanage.” He trailed off into sobs again.
“I meant what I said earlier.” Fyodor moved forwards to hug the boy once again. “I’ll never get fed up of you and, look at me Atsushi, I will never take you back there. Do you understand?” The child nodded. “Y-yeah.”
“Good.” The Russian patted Atsushi’s head before turning back to the hot cocoa on the stove and poured it back into the mug, then he scooped a generous spoonful of mini marshmallows into it from the bag.
As the boy slowly drank his drink, Fyodor could visibly see him brightening and coming back to his normal bubbly self as he slurped. It was only after he had drained the mug down to the very last dregs that he spoke again.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight Fedya?” he asked somewhat shyly, although he was still kicking his legs under the table.
“Sure.”
Fyodor took the mug to the sink and resolved to wash it in the morning before helping the child down from the chair, taking his hand and leading him back upstairs.
Once Atsushi was cuddled up beneath the covers, the man turned the light off and settled down next to him.
“Good night, Kotyonok.”
“Night night Papa Fedya.” the boy replied sleepily, and within moments he was asleep again, leaving Fyodor to ponder the development of his nickname.
Nikolai stepped through his portal and into his and Fyodor’s joint bedroom, expecting his boyfriend to be asleep.
And he was asleep, but he wasn’t alone.
The clown smiled to himself as he saw both members of his family blissfully sleeping, Atsushi’s hand gently clasping Fydor’s arm, the hand of which was resting on the child’s head.
After changing quickly into something more appropriate to sleep in, Nikolai quietly slipped into bed on the other side of the boy, careful not to wake either of them and leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Fyodor’s cheek before placing one on his son’s head.
He fully believed that this was the happiest he had ever been.