Archive of Our Own

"You're going to break me in half!"

"No, no, no, you're not even trying, are you?! Come on, with your whole chest, just do what I did—"

"—I can't do what you do, I don't have Water Imp lungs—"

“Just take a deep breath. We aren’t going any further than your body can handle.”

"Ahh-ahhh!"

"Agghhh!"

Valeriy stood at the closed door for several long seconds, wondering whether he actually wanted to know what was going on behind it, then shook his head and shoved it open. The scene inside the practice room gave him pause, though not enough pause to stop him from asking questions - the first of which would have been what is wrong with all of you, if he were a man of less self-control. 

Instead, he turned his attention first to the bars, where Odette appeared to be folding Alyosha into human origami. "What are you doing, exactly?"

"Showing Alyosha my stretches," She said calmly. Alyosha himself only made a strained sound in response. "He wanted to be more pliable. Stretching is how you stay pliable."

Valeriy scrutinised them for a moment, then came to the conclusion that Alyosha wouldn't still be in this position if he truly didn't want to be - much like hunting dogs who grumbled and complained about being teased, despite possessing more than enough physical strength to make sure it stopped happening. So he turned next to Vodyanitsa, who was standing on tiptoe with her hands around Mitya's throat.

"And what are you doing?" He enquired.

"Feeling his vocal chords," She said innocently. "They're far too tight. The vibrations are all off. Too many lectures and not enough music.”

"Well, forgive me for not having come out of the womb singing," Mitya muttered, then made a panicked noise when Vodyanitsa tightened her grip. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you trying to kill me?!"

Valeriy considered them as well, then decided that Mitya was probably exactly where he deserved to be. He finally moved his attention to the china set sitting at the side, ignoring Mitya's cry of betrayal. "...I don't suppose there's any tea left?"

"It might be cold. I'll go make a fresh pot." Odette left Alyosha braced on the bar, giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Hold that for another thirty seconds, and then take a break."

Alyosha groaned in response. Odette's mouth stretched into a rare little smile, clearly amused, and left with the teapot with such speed that before Valeriy didn't even have the chance to offer help. He suppressed a smile - that was Odette, alright. Efficient to a fault. 

Someone had brought some chairs in to accompany the tea table, and he drew one up to sit adjacent to where Alyosha was still valiantly trying to maintain his stretch. Without Odette to hold him in place, though, his posture was already wavering. 

"You're not doing that right," Valeriy told him.

"You shut your mouth," grunted Alyosha, then took a deep breath and finally let go of the bar. His body relaxed all at once, like a released spring, and dropped straight to the ground. "Archons. How does she do that every day?"

"Practice, I imagine," said Valeriy drily. "Are you and Mitya hoping to join the troupe?"

Alyosha grimaced. "Does it look like we are?"

At that point there was a sound like a balloon being deflated. It took Valeriy a moment to realise that it was coming from Mitya's throat. Briefly he worried that Vodyanitsa was actually strangling him, but Alyosha's complete lack of reaction seemed to indicate that wasn’t the case. 

"That was close!" Vodyanitsa said encouragingly. "See, you're doing it!"

"I’m clearly not doing it," huffed Mitya. His face had gone completely scarlet - it was hard to tell whether it was out of embarrassment, or because of the strain of his attempt. "Can we take a break now?”

Mitya could sing - he had a decent enough voice, though perhaps not the best sense of tune - so Valeriy really wasn't sure what Vodyanitsa was attempting to do. Vodyanitsa herself sighed dramatically and finally let Mitya go, flouncing to one of the other vacant chairs. 

Odette slipped back in with the steaming teapot balanced in one hand and a fresh pot of honey in the other. (Valeriy only noticed at this point that the existing pot had a large well in it, as if someone had been eating from it with their finger.) Mitya, who had been feeling his own throat with a grimace, hurried to take the teapot from her; Odette cleanly switched her hands and passed him the honey instead. 

“Thank you very much,” said Valeriy as Odette poured him a cup. “Do you know what Mitya’s trying to achieve?”

The man in question, snubbed, was currently pouting over her shoulder. Odette glanced back at him, then answered, “Vodyanitsa is trying to make a soprano out of a tenor. Or so she says.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s me!” Vodyanitsa leaned forward to steal the first pot of honey and stuck her pinky finger into it. “I think we’re making real progress.”

“I think you’re going to shred his throat before anything,” commented Alyosha, finally sitting up. Odette had already poured tea for him, and handed him the cup. “Thanks.”

“Mm.” She turned to Mitya, who was heaping spoonfuls of honey from the fresh pot into his teacup. “Give me your cup.”

“One moment,” He said, and added one more spoonful for good measure. “There! Thank you, Odechka.”

Valeriy sipped his own tea in judgement as Odette poured. There was almost more honey than tea in the cup. Mitya was essentially drinking slightly-warm herbal syrup.

Belatedly, he realised that there was only one chair of the three left, and considered offering his to Odette. Before he could, though, she had already sat down with her own unsweetened tea, and Mitya settled on the ground beside Alyosha. (Secretly, Valeriy was rather relieved. He did not want to offer his chair to Mitya.)

Vodyanitsa, content with the honey alone, stirred it around and around the pot and stuck an enormous dollop in her mouth with a hum. Then, kicking her feet, she suddenly tipped her head back and sang a wordless scale, the sound bright and joyful.

“You’re in an awfully good mood for having humiliated me,” Mitya noted, tilting his cup back and forth. The honey clearly wasn’t dissolving well. “Or is it because you humiliated me?”

“You watch - I’ll have you singing like this one day, too!”

The possibility was non-zero, but certainly close, and clearly Vodyanitsa knew this - and perhaps it pleased her to know, because the little smile that crept onto her face was rather satisfied. Mitya only shook his head, his expression fond.

They conversed over tea for a while, and Valeriy was so relaxed that he didn’t remember for a good while that something had caught his attention earlier. Odechka, Mitya had said. An awfully familiar term of address, but Odette hadn’t even blinked. 

Valeriy’s brow furrowed slightly. A thought began to form in the back of his mind, but before it could take root, Vodyanitsa set down the now-sparkling clean honey pot and announced, “Well, the tea’s drunk! Back to practice! Valeriy, come sing with us!”

The most singing Valeriy usually did was the occasional drinking song under great encouragement from his inebriated men, but he shrugged and went along with it, his voice a muted burr beneath the melody. He certainly had an easier time of it than Mitya, who received special attention (or maybe the better word was scolding) for his inability to navigate the tune. 

“I don’t know how you know where the notes are!” He exclaimed with great exasperation. “Are you all telepathically communicating or something? Even you, Valeriy!”

The truth was that Valeriy’s assignment was both low enough to mostly fly under the radar and much simpler than the other parts, but if it could be a source of irritation, then he certainly would lean into it. “It isn’t very hard. They come naturally as you follow the music.”

“How??”

Odette and Alyosha, for their part, sang along obediently. Vodyanitsa had to keep telling Odette to raise her voice, but it was a clear, sweet thing - perfectly competent in its range, not particularly interested in straining itself. Alyosha’s voice was a little raspy, clearly unused to this sort of thing, but it had a comfortable sort of mellowness to it. 

Vodyanitsa conducted them through the song about six times before finally nodding in approval, and then sang through it herself with marvellous fluency. The rest of them could only applaud while she preened, with some exchanged looks and mutual amused wonderings if she’d only initiated the lesson to show off. 

Next she insisted that Odette teach them all some ballet. Odette, with a slightly apprehensive glance at their feet, opted to teach them an easier routine used in one of the theatre’s musical sketches instead. Valeriy followed along with military precision, executing each step as if it were a drill, his face completely impassive the entire time; Vodyanitsa would add in her own flourishes and frequently forgot the steps, but usually saved it with a smile; Mitya managed to stumble over his feet more often than he actually hit the right moves, and frequently crashed into the next dancer over.

Alyosha, however, took to the dance like a duck to water, stepping out with his head held high, feet tapping and thumping with deceiving lightness. In the end, they were more dancing around Mitya than anything else (and Vodyanitsa was not helping, often electing to twirl around them instead of actually staying in formation), but everyone seemed to be having so much fun that it didn’t matter. 

Odette led them to a finishing pose, though only Valeriy actually managed it. Mitya managed to get his legs crossed and careened sideways into Vodyanitsa, who immediately turned it into a spin that knocked both Odette and Alyosha over like dominoes. 

Valeriy held his pose dutifully until the record ran out, then relaxed, feeling quite proud of himself. From somewhere between Alyosha’s torso and Vodyanitsa’s legs, Odette’s voice said, “Good job, Valeriy.”

There was an immediate protest from the two weakest links: “What about us?”, and, “Didn’t you see my pretty twirls?”

“You weren’t even trying to do the right steps,” Odette replied flatly. Valeriy tried to find her head, but it was really an impossibility. “Alyosha, you were good. You could have passed for one of the actual players.”

Alyosha’s response was drowned by more complaints from the two: “I was making it fresh!”, followed by, “I was trying, at least! Where’s my praise, Odechka?!”

None of them seemed particularly interested in untangling themselves from the knot they’d tied themselves into. Valeriy poured himself the remaining bit of cold tea in the pot and took a sip. It was surprisingly refreshing, and he regarded the arguing heap with somewhat sentimental eyes. 

That’s nice, He thought. They’re very close, aren’t they?

Valeriy had never been particularly artistically-minded, and before his most recent job had mostly only heard of the theatre’s goings-on via his men. Since being assigned to Mitya, though, he’d been spending much more time there. At first, he would station himself by the main entrance in order to catch him entering; then, as Mitya became savvier with his escape tactics, he would have to enter in order to drag him out. 

Of course, there was no entry without a ticket, and Mitya was thin-faced enough to kick up a fuss if Valeriy attempted to haul him out before the show. So it was that he would end up watching along with him, but the show was usually lost on him. While the rest of the crowd gasped and sighed, sometimes even bursting into tears, Valeriy would sit in quiet bewilderment, wondering what exactly it was that compelled them so. 

Still, it seemed that death had brought out something of a sensitive side of him. Mitya wasn’t required so often at the Armory Palace these days, but Valeriy often attended shows with him regardless of whether he had to haul him to his workshop afterwards, and these days he found himself understanding the crowd more and more. 

“The heart is like a muscle!” Vodyanitsa once exclaimed, unsubtly sneaking a VIP ticket into his pocket. “If you keep exercising it by attending our shows, then your feelings will grow even stronger!”

“Of course the heart is a muscle,” Valeriy replied. “It pumps the blood around your body.”

“That is not what I meant!” She stormed, and then sang a note so piercing at him that he was compelled to double over and ask for forgiveness. 

He insisted on paying for the ticket later. There was an irony he almost enjoyed in the fact that the scientist-hauling bonus to his paycheck was ending up back in the pockets of those he was hauling the scientist away from. 

Speaking of the scientist, Mitya had developed an odd pre-show ritual. They usually arrived early to the venue, and while Valeriy would sit down to wait politely in the lobby, Mitya would say something in low tones to a security guard and then go bounding off into the depths of the theatre. He’d be gone for anywhere from fifteen minutes to nearly an hour - about as close to showtime as he could cut it - and then come hurrying back just in time for entry. 

Valeriy’s first theory: Mitya was running off to a bathroom or perhaps spare dressing room to make himself look more presentable. (It clearly wasn’t working, as he always looked significantly messier than before he’d gone, although it was possible that that was all part of the look.) His second: Mitya had a grudge against someone at the theatre, and was meeting them for scheduled combat. (It would be unusual, but Valeriy could respect the decorum.)

He didn’t have a third theory. It didn’t really matter, altogether, as long as Mitya got back in time for the doors opening and wasn’t giving Valeriy a reason to drag him back to the Palace by the ear. 

On this day, however, Mitya had gotten caught up in explaining something to one of the younger interns and delayed their departure by almost forty minutes. By the time that he finally noticed Valeriy hovering behind him, coughing discreetly every few seconds, they’d completely missed both their usual arrival window and the VIP early entrance time, and had to line up with the rest of the regular crowd. 

Valeriy didn’t mind this so much. They’d make it in eventually, anyway, and he didn’t lose anything by waiting outside rather than inside. Mitya was a different story. He was hopping foot to foot the entire time they stood in the queue, an anxious expression on his face. 

“We have tickets,” Valeriy said in an attempt to placate him, assuming that Mitya was worried they’d be turned away at the door. “At worst, we won’t be sitting at the front. Calm down.”

“That’s not it,” He said, still fidgeting. His scarf was tapping itself impatiently, pretending to be indicating a watch. “Oh dear, how much longer now?”

At the door, Kulish had clearly gone into automatic mode, barely glancing up at each theatre-goer as he checked their tickets and marked them in his register. When Mitya offered a slightly sheepish hello, however, his head jerked up. 

“There you are!” He said in surprise. “I was wondering when you’d show. Almost wrote you off.”

“Haha, my apologies…” Mitya glanced around as if looking for someone as Valeriy presented his own ticket. “...uh, I don’t suppose…?”

“It’s far too close to showtime now,” said Kulish, shaking his head with disapproval. “I’d advise you to just get to your seat, and make it up afterwards.”

He sighed, his scarf drooping. “...alright.”

Valeriy waited until they’d finally made it to their seats (somewhere to the left, three rows from the back - a far cry from their usual front row view) to ask, “Make up what?”

Mitya, slumped in his seat and muttering to himself, straightened a little. “Uh— hm?”

“Mr Kulish said—” Valeriy began, then paused when it finally clicked in his mind. “—never mind.”

“Okay,” said the scientist gloomily, and went back to sulking. 

It made sense now. Mitya was probably helping out backstage, like Alyosha did - with shifting props or spot-cleaning, perhaps. Now Valeriy felt a little bad for lounging about in the lobby. He really should have offered to help, as well. 

The show was, as usual, excellent. It was quite dance-heavy on this occasion, most of the singing being in the accompaniment, with the exception of a small comedy sketch to finish off the first act. Valeriy recognised Alyosha dressed as a tree in the background, helplessly waving his prop branches in time to the backing music. 

As soon as the curtain had fallen, Mitya leapt to his feet and attempted to race out of the hall. It didn’t work, of course, as the people seated behind them made it there first, and he very quickly started drowning in the crowd. Valeriy took pity and plucked him out by the collar, forcing him to wait.

“What in the world are you in such a rush for?” He asked. “It’ll take them a while to get their make-up and costumes off. You’re not going to be late to meet them.”

Mitya was clearly not listening. He was muttering again. 

When they finally made it out, Alyosha was waiting outside the dressing room for them, changed out of his stiff tree costume. Mitya sped up to meet him, wringing his hands. 

Alyosha just grinned at him. “You are so dead.”

“I know,” Mitya lamented. “One of our interns asked about shadow cores, and I just got so excited—”

“Is that who I think it is?” exploded a voice from within the room, and Vodyanitsa burst out in a whirl of perfume and sparkly silk, her dressing gown like a wrathful cloud around her. “Mitya.”

“Vodyasha,” He answered with a nervous grin. “Where’s…?”

“Washing her hairspray out,” supplied Alyosha, who looked nothing short of amused, and wandered into the green room with not a care in the world. Vodyanitsa stood her ground and continued to stare Mitya down like a predator. 

“...um,” Mitya started. “In my defence—”

“Never mind that,” interrupted Vodyanitsa, and set her hands on her hips. “What was I singing today?”

“You, um, weren’t?” He tried. “No solos, at least. But you were leading the choir…”

She eyed him for a moment. Then she relaxed a little. “...so you were here. Where were you before, then?”

“Well, someone asked me about shadow cores, and—”

As Mitya launched into what was clearly about to be a reprise of his lecture earlier, Vodyanitsa sighed, shook her head, and then looked up at Valeriy with a deceivingly sweet smile. 

“Could you wait out here for a moment, please, Mr Valeriy?” She asked, then pulled Mitya into the green room and shut the door behind them. 

Valeriy blinked at the slab of wood suddenly taking up his field of vision. Whatever Mitya’s new backstage role was, clearly it was of importance if she was so angry. 

He took a step back, wary of being considered an eavesdropper (Vodyanitsa was talking inside, and her voice had a way of carrying), wondering if he ought to go find something to help out with himself. Before he could outright leave, though, Odette rounded the corner, still towelling the moisture from her hair.

She glanced at the closed door, then up at him. “...what are you waiting out here for? You can go straight in, you know.”

“I believe Vodyanitsa is, ah—” He cleared his throat. “—disciplining Mitya, in some way.”

“Oh, he’s here?” 

“Yes. She asked me to wait outside. Is there anything I could help with in the meantime?”

Odette considered this for a moment, then nodded. “They’re putting away the props from Mr Burakh’s play. They could do with another pair of arms.”

“That I can provide.” He offered her a small smile. “I’ll be back later.”

“See you,” She responded. The last thing Valeriy saw as he left the way she’d come was Odette pushing the green room door open and slipping inside. 

Later, when he returned, the door was ajar, and he could hear Alyosha and Odette talking calmly inside. He entered with some trepidation, and was both relieved and a little disappointed to find that Mitya looked perfectly fine. In the pink of health, actually - he looked as if he’d rouged his cheeks. 

Had he, actually? Now that Valeriy looked, he did look like he’d actually been made up. There was a streak of what looked like glittery purple lipstick at the corner of his mouth. 

“Hello, Valeriy!” Vodyanitsa greeted, apparently now the very picture of content. She was taking up most of the chaise longue, with her feet in Odette’s lap. “I’m sorry about earlier. Come on, take some sweets!”

“Those are my sweets you keep offering people,” Odette said with a small sigh, but nodded. “...just a few, Valeriy.”

He nodded back. “Thank you very much.” 

He was careful to only take one, specifically the green-wrapped ones that were higher in number, presuming that they were her least favourite flavour. Odette seemed to notice this, and she gave him a smile of appreciation. Valeriy observed that it was a little purpler than it had been earlier. 

“I’m never letting Burakh rope me into one of his plays again,” said Alyosha, who was peering at something in his palm. “Why would he use real branches? I feel like I’m full of splinters.”

“Let’s take a look, Lyosha,” beckoned Mitya. Alyosha sighed and crossed the room to him, and as he passed, Valeriy was hit by an unusually strong burst of the same perfume from earlier. 

He turned to look at him. Alyosha was facing Mitya now, allowing him to inspect his hand, but parts of his face were glittering in the candlelight. 

Valeriy sat down and unwrapped his sweet.

I see, He thought. They must be sharing make-up.

Valeriy’s barracks were hardly suitable for hosting guests, and if Mitya’s apartment was organised anything like his workshop then it wasn’t either. It didn’t feel right to always be placing the burden on the others - especially given the amount of special treatment it involved from the rest of the theatre staff - but they’d never done their visits the other way around. There was one simple reason for this: the Armory Palace was guarded by trained soldiers with guns, and the Korolevskiy Theatre wasn’t. 

Today was slow. Mitya had been locked in his workshop since morning, doing something carefully not Mistelteinn-related, while Valeriy helped some researchers run Landcruiser drills in the training grounds. There were some newer recruits learning the ropes of their new weapons nearby, and occasionally he would turn to shout a caution when a Pyro bullet flew a little too far astray. That was about the most excitement to be had. The life of a Fatui major was hardly glamorous. 

His balm today was that they had arranged to meet at Podvorye Restaurant afterwards. He was utterly determined to foot the expenses today. He and Mitya often made an effort to pay, since they couldn’t host, but Odette - with her dual Fatui and ballerina income - frequently argued them out of the bill. Not today. 

He’d watched Mitya set an alarm for quarter-to this morning, and from experience knew that it took him almost exactly twenty minutes to get from his workshop in the recesses to the Armory Palace’s outer grounds. Sure enough, at almost precisely five-past, Mitya came huffing out of the main doors, and complained of being winded almost the entire way to the restaurant. 

Having been approached too many times by over-zealous fans, they’d made a habit of booking a private room. Alyosha was already waiting for them inside - he was usually the first to arrive when he wasn’t coming from the theatre with the stars. 

Mitya went straight in while Valeriy paused to assess the corridor outside. None of the other private rooms seemed to be in use, and the main restaurant floor wasn’t too busy. That was good. He decided to wait by the door until everyone was in, just in case. 

Something fell off the table inside. Mitya and Alyosha had their heads very close together, as if they were whispering something, and quickly pulled apart when they noticed that Valeriy was looking. His eyes narrowed. A prank, perhaps? Though their expressions lacked mischief…

Odette and Vodyanitsa arrived without issue. It didn’t seem like they’d walked all the way here together - Vodyanitsa was in her usual clothes, but Odette was wearing her Fatui uniform, as if she’d just gotten back from a mission. In her hands was an armoured suitcase, which she set down carefully by an inner wall. 

“Odechka!” cried Mitya, recognising its emblem immediately. “You were at the Armory Palace and didn’t come to see me?”

“You were on the clock,” She said, shaking her head. “I was only there to pick this up, anyway.”

“A mission?” asked Valeriy with interest. “That looks new.”

“It’s not for me.” She held it out to Alyosha. “Here. The parts you were looking at.”

“Dechka ordered them specially,” added Vodyanitsa with a beam. “And I decorated them, of course.”

Alyosha received the case with wide eyes. “...seriously? I was only joking!”

“What are jokes but windows to the souls?” asked Mitya, which didn’t make any sense, but Vodyanitsa nodded anyway. “It’s your birthday soon, anyway. Take it as an early present!”

A waitress approached the half-open door while Alyosha carefully unlatched the case. Valeriy cleared his throat softly and shook his head, proffering a hand to take the stack of menus for her. She gave him a grateful smile and scampered back off to the kitchen. 

“...this is unbelievable.” Alyosha lifted a piece from the box reverently. There was a mini-Vodyanitsa sticker on the backside, and he chuckled at it when he turned it over. “How much did this cost…?”

“It was a business expense,” replied Odette nonchalantly. “They compensate you if it’s something you need for work.”

“But you…”

“I didn’t lie,” She said. “I work better if you’re all happy.”

Alyosha bit his lip. He looked a little close to getting emotional. “...thank you. I’ll try them out next time I go hunting.”

Valeriy waited a little while longer before judging it polite to finally pass out the menus, and the five of them settled down for the evening. It was a very nice, very thoughtful present, he thought. Alyosha had often eyed Skirmishers’ state-of-the-art weapons with some envy, but he also had always said he wouldn’t give up his trusty rifle for anything. Getting him a box of shiny new custom parts was a perfect compromise - and they were very nice parts, from what he’d glimpsed. Actually, he was fairly sure he’d seen Mitya sketching the schematics for these a while ago.

As per usual, Vodyanitsa ordered the bulk of their food. The others usually went along with her tastes, none of them particularly fussy, though Alyosha always ordered his own liquor. Valeriy made a point not to drink too often, but he was feeling indulgent today, and allowed Alyosha to pour him a glass of Fire-Water. 

Mitya also insisted that he be poured a glass, despite knowing full well he’d be flat on the ground before he even finished the thing. More likely he would sip periodically for the duration of the meal, grimacing every time, before subtly sliding the glass over to Odette, who would finish it without even blinking. 

He was as stubborn as he was predictable, and though he did end up passing his drink to Odette, by the time he did his cheeks were already as red as roses, and he would burst into laughter every few words even when nothing funny was being said. Alyosha, on the other hand, had already finished off two glasses and barely even looked flushed.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” Valeriy sighed, disapproving, and poured him a glass of water. “Come on, get that down.”

“No!” Mitya shouted, like a child, teetering sideways on his chair. “I don’t need it. Lyoshenka, tell him I don’t need it.”

“You do need it,” Alyosha sighed. “I don’t know why you insist on drinking every time.”

“I wanna have a good time, don’t I? Hahahaha…”

Meanwhile, Vodyanitsa reached across the table and pushed one of the plates closer to Odette. “Dechka, try some of this, okay? It’s really good.”

Odette had been fiddling with the same bread crust for the last few minutes. At this, her eyes flickered up with surprise. “...I’m full, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” She wheedled. “It’s really, really good…”

“It’s a good dish,” put in Valeriy. (He’d been observing what everyone was eating, mostly out of habit - a reflex from when he’d been assigned to a nobleman with a paranoia about being poisoned.) “And some extra meat tonight would do you good. I know how much a mission takes out of you.”

Odette’s mouth pressed into a line. Alyosha downed the rest of his glass, then leaned over to her. His voice would have been too soft to hear if Valeriy weren’t sitting beside him.

“It doesn’t have to be the whole thing, Dechka,” He said. “Just some, okay?”

She let out a soft sigh, then nodded, took the fork he was offering and speared a hunk of meat. Valeriy quickly cleared his throat and raised another topic of conversation to distract Mitya, who looked like he was about to cheer. It’d probably be better to keep the attention off her. 

Luckily, it didn’t take much to set Mitya off on a tangent when he was like this. While Valeriy and Vodyanitsa took turns getting him started, turning his attention this way and that like a mouse in a maze, Alyosha continued talking softly to Odette, and slowly the dish emptied until most of it was gone. At this, he swept the rest onto his own plate and put it away, carefully keeping her eyes off it. 

Eventually, Vodyanitsa decided that she wanted to join in Mitya’s festivities, and it didn’t take long before she too was pink-cheeked and so giggly that she could barely speak. The two of them seemed to be stuck in a feedback loop where everything they said would make the other laugh, to the point where nothing they said was even comprehensible anymore, but they still kept wringing each other’s hands and nodding furiously.

Then they’d turn excitedly to the others, as if to check that they understood the joke. Odette would nod seriously, while Alyosha would shake his head in mild exasperation. The contradiction was apparently uproariously funny to the other two, who went back into peals of laughter in response. Valeriy found himself chuckling along, the liquor a pleasant buzz in his head. 

Vodyanitsa, at least, sobered a little when they eventually had to leave, but Mitya (had he secretly been drinking more while they weren’t looking?) was still completely out of it. Odette took advantage of this by sneaking away to pay the bill while Valeriy was stuck propping him up - something that he would most definitely have revenge for, on a day when he didn’t have three glasses of Fire-Water in his stomach.

They half-walked, half-stumbled out into a dark Snezhnograd, the hour now so late that the streets were mostly quiet. Vodyanitsa twirled and skipped through the snow, humming as she half-remembered the dance Odette had taught them. Valeriy gripped Mitya’s arm to make sure he wouldn’t have the same idea and end up cracking his head open on the pavement. 

Alyosha carried his gifted case in both arms, clutching it close like a precious treasure. Odette trailed behind just a little, her head turning slowly to survey their surroundings in a way Valeriy was familiar with - until Vodyanitsa doubled back to seize her by the hands, dragging her into her dance. 

In the cold night air, she raised her head and sang a joyful tune to the stars. Most likely it had woken a few residents, and enchanted more, but Valeriy couldn’t find it in him to tell her not to. 

“Oh! Such a lovely song!” Mitya stumbled, clearly attempting to join the dance. Valeriy maintained his hold on his arm. “Again, Vodyasha, again!”

She obliged. Alyosha, quickening pace to keep up, laughed. “You’re going to wake up half of Snezhnograd.”

“I’m just so happy!” She exclaimed, and almost immediately slipped on a patch of ice. Odette caught her with ease and she collapsed into her arms, giggling furiously again. “I love you, and I love you, and I love you, and I love you—”

The emotion seemed to become too much for words, and she burst into song again. Mitya attempted to clap along limply to the non-resistant beat.

“And I love you,” He announced to no one in particular, then immediately fell asleep on his feet. 

“I think we’d better all get to bed,” Alyosha said with a huff. “The theatre’s closer to here than our apartments. We’d better just use the rooms there for tonight.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Vodyanitsa called. Odette, apparently giving up on keeping her upright, had opted to sling her over her shoulder instead, and Vodyanitsa was clearly having the time of her life. “I said I love you!”

“Yes, Yasha, I love you too.” 

It was a wonder they made it to the theatre in one piece. Odette vanished with Vodyanitsa, then returned for Mitya while Valeriy was still stomping the snow from his boots, and dragged him off into the darkness as well. Alyosha set down his case for a moment to stretch, yawning. 

“You know where everything is, right?” He asked sleepily. Valeriy nodded. “Great. G’night, Valeriy.”

“Goodnight.”

He watched Alyosha potter away in the same direction as Odette, then wandered off on his own, eyelids heavy and fully prepared to collapse on the first bed he came across. As he did, a single stray notion drifted across his mind and quickly dispersed again. 

Strange, He thought. There’s only one room down that hall. 

"Vodyasha," whined Mitya, "Surely it's my turn now?"

Vodyanitsa's voice was muffled through the hem of Odette's dressing robe. "Nope! Five more minutes!"

"You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“Still five more minutes.”

Valeriy exchanged a look with Alyosha - or attempted to. The hunter's face was barely visible through the foam mask Vodyanitsa had applied to him earlier. Actually, now that he got a good look at him, Valeriy was fairly sure he'd fallen asleep, which left him alone in the middle of… whatever this was. 

Odette, dressed in a luxuriously soft dressing robe, was reading on the chaise. Vodyanitsa was lying in her lap with her arms around her waist, cheek pressed into her abdomen and kicking her feet giddily every now and again. Mitya was sat beside them, periodically attempting to get Vodyanitsa to switch with him, but only succeeding in making her hold onto Odette tighter.

 “We’re supposed to be relaxing,” Odette said over the page. “If you’re going to keep fighting, why don’t I just give you the dressing gown?

“Do I ask you to dance without music?!” Mitya exclaimed. At the same time, Vodyanitsa gave a scandalised gasp. They both looked outraged at the very idea.

Alyosha didn’t even stir. Was he alive under there? Valeriy leaned to get a look, then saw the bubbles beneath his nose fluttering. So he hadn’t suffocated under there while no one was looking. 

He returned to his previous position and reached gingerly up to his own face. He’d managed to talk Vodyanitsa out of putting the same mask on his face, but only in exchange for these gel pads she’d stuck under his eyes. He didn’t know how long they were supposed to stay there, but it had been at least half an hour, and it felt more like there was wallpaper on his face than skin serum now.

“Am I permitted to take these off now?” He asked, though he wasn’t sure who the question was directed to. Vodyanitsa seemed thoroughly occupied with attempting to burrow into Odette’s gown as much as possible. 

Odette looked up from her book again and grimaced a little at the sight of him, which didn’t bode well. “You probably should. You can loosen them up with water.”

He nodded and got to his feet. He felt a little as if he was fleeing the room as he left for the restroom. 

Valeriy understood that he was probably more reserved than the rest of his friends - even Odette, despite her reputation for icy coldness. Still, the occasions on which he felt completely discombobulated around them as of late had multiplied in number, and he was beginning to wonder if he understood the stages of friendship at all. 

There were men under his command who had known each other since they were young boys, and none of them acted like this. Some of them even acted as if it were embarrassing to touch each other much at all, though personally Valeriy thought this was silly. But even the most mutually affectionate ones didn’t do whatever it was Vodyanitsa and Mitya were doing. 

Valeriy liked to think he was quite close with them now, but it unnerved him to think that such closeness might come with the expectation of… that. The others had never acted as if there was, but that could be merely to spare him embarrassment. Or did they think he didn’t like them enough?

He frowned at his reflection. He was used to comradery, not civilian friendship. These matters were hard to navigate indeed. 

The hardened gel strips slipped off easily with some water, but he stayed there in the restroom for a little longer. Partly it was to marvel at the effects of the pads (the dark circles under his eyes had completely disappeared), but it was equally to continue contemplating his situation. Eventually, he shook his head and decided to return to the dressing room. 

He’d been away for a little longer than was probably normal to remove two pieces of paper from the face. Hopefully they didn’t think that was suspicious. He had been in the bathroom, anyway. He was probably overthinking it. 

He paused at the dressing room door. He could hear whispering and giggling inside, and he wasn’t sure how that boded. 

So, first, he only pushed the door open a little, and peered through the gap. Then he stopped, and stepped back to take a deep breath. 

In the time he’d taken to remove his eye strips, Alyosha had already washed the foam mask from his own face, and had now joined the other three. Vodyanitsa and Mitya’s quarrel was resolved now, by compromise: Vodyanitsa was permitted to remain in Odette’s lap, but all three had shifted sideways, so that Mitya was now comfortably snuggled against her side. This now opened a gap on her other side where Alyosha had slotted in, with Vodyanitsa’s legs across his lap, and he was carding his fingers through her long hair. 

Valeriy took another deep breath. He was, by now, sure that this wasn’t normal. What he wasn’t sure about was whether he ought to enter, or if he ought to make a run for it. 

There’s really no need to be apprehensive, He told himself forcefully. They are your friends. They’re hardly more frightening than an aberrant chimera. 

Before he could compel himself to turn and leave, he reached forward and pushed open the door. Four heads turned briefly in his direction. 

“There you are,” said Mitya conversationally. “I was worried you’d fallen into the toilet.”

Odette cleared her throat and looked a little sheepish - an unusual expression for her. Vodyanitsa just smiled, but Alyosha was looking at Valeriy with the slightly-wide eyes of someone who had forgotten he was here after waking from his nap. 

“Um,” He said awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Sorry? Why would he— 

Valeriy stopped.

It was as if he’d been struck with a bolt directly from the Electro Archon. Realisation fell across him like a heap of snow brushed off a roof, and the question left his mouth before he could stop to phrase it differently:

"Are you four courting each other?"

There was a very long silence. They each looked at him with their own brand of surprise on their face. 

"Yes," answered Mitya after a moment. "Didn't I... mention it?"

"I thought we made it pretty clear," said Vodyanitsa with a giggle.

"Actually, I don't think we did mention it," muttered Alyosha. "I don't remember saying anything. But, to be honest, I thought you knew already."

"So did I," agreed Odette. "Sorry, Valeriy."

He felt a little as if someone had just told him that the sky had actually been green all his life, except that in this scenario, the sky was green and Valeriy had somehow never noticed. Mentally, he ran through every occasion he’d spent with the four of them - the details he hadn’t thought much of, from the way they spoke to the way they looked at each other. Archons. It all made sense now. 

"We still want you to spend time with us, of course," ventured Mitya - as if that was the part that was causing him problems. 

“You’re our very dear big friend and we love having you around,” added Vodyanitsa. 

Valeriy sat back, completely off-balance. 

My God, He thought. Am I an idiot?