Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sampo didn’t like how enticing the thought of lying on the ground and fading away until he was a mere corpse seemed. 

He’s hungry, tired, and he’s pretty sure he’s forming some bruises under his feet from how long he’s been walking. To just immediately dissolve from existence? Right now, it would be delightful. Absolutely sexy. Too charming. 

“Shit,” Sampo mutters. He stumbles on some stupid rock, or maybe it was a crease in the tiling, arms flinging out to grasp onto the nearest object. 

The floor. Brilliant. That’s good. That’s so good. It’s just that good, in fact, that it’s enough for Sampo to think coherently again. He’s lucky he’s wearing gloves, otherwise his hands would’ve been endlessly scratched, which would only add to the horrible things that have been slowly creeping up his system and showing themselves out just now. 

He groans as he gets up, and he feels that migraine finally coming in full swing. Wow, that’s horrible. Sampo jokingly thinks, is this how people feel when they go one day without my face? Then promptly realises now is probably not the best time to think that. Close to 8PM, in front of the Everwinter Monument, the streets start to quiet down as work starts to end. It’s a familiar scene.

He stands up, dusts his pants off like a reasonable human being, and walks it off like a champ. A very limp-y champ, but a champ nonetheless. Fuck, when was the last time he felt this bad? Can he even rest this off?

Well, not up in the Overworld, thanks to those darn Silvermanes. Fucking arsonists. 

He — barely audibly — groans, letting himself scratch at his forehead, and tug at those little baby hairs he’s so damn proud of. He could go back to the Underworld, but the staircase connecting both sides on Belobog takes longer to scale than the time he takes to perfectly style his hair before he starts the day. And that’s saying something.

He grabs his phone and grimaces at the shattered screen protector and his shaky hands. The fall wasn’t that bad. He taps his foot to a miscellaneous rhythm as he scrolls his contacts.  His head is pounding and the words on screen are barely processing, but it’s okay. He’ll be fine. 

+++

Serval

Lacking sleep and inspiration

——————

Sampo

Heyyyy Serval

Serval

No

Sampo

I haven’t even said anything yet!

Sampo

:(

Serval

Sampo, whatever it is, I’m not helping you with it

Serval

I’ve already helped you enough.

Sampo

What if it’s really urgent?

Serval

You’ve said that to me before

Sampo

What if it concerns my health?

Serval

You’ve also said that to me before

Sampo

What if I’m being serious this time?

Serval

…

Serval

You know what I'm going to say

Sampo

Nvm

Sampo

[Sticker: Dejected_PomPom]

+++

Okay, Neverwinter Workshop’s guest room is off the list. He can shrug that off. It’s fine.

Sampo walks slowly, trying to clear his vision by squinting and locating familiar doors— the front of Belobog Museum of History and Art. 

Pela should be dusting off the last of things, and maybe she’d be kind enough to give him a night shift. The couch would be a bit stiff, but it’s much better than the ground. He’d even leave a light on to show how hard-working at the night shift he was.

He tries to push open the doors as usual, but he shouldn't have been surprised when the door was locked last opening hours. He knocks on the door once. Twice. Three times. Would Pela be the type to immediately bolt home after work? Sampo can’t seem to remember.

Speaking of Pela… “What do you— oh,” she grimaces, “Sampo. Salutations.”

Sampo chuckles softly, not able to muster any energy for an over dramatic reaction. “Is that how you look everytime you’re near a co-worker?” 

“It’s how I look when I’m near a wanted criminal.” She glared at him, adjusting her glasses with her free hand. “We’re closed.”

“I’ll take the night watch,” Sampo insists, “just let me—”

“Yeah, and let you near all the artifacts and sculptures? Not a chance.”

The door slammed, loudly, in front of his face. Well, at least the gush of air was nice for a wake-up call. Did the world tilt its axis? Why does it feel like it did? Why is everything so… fuzzy?

It’s fine, he tells himself. You’re not some stupid character who’s having a sick-day, you’re just in need of a really good nap. You’re just a comedy relief character. That the audience hates. They’re probably laughing at your demise right now. 

Wow. Such positive thoughts, brain. Maybe it is a good idea to go back to the Underworld…

Sampo takes a shaky breath and pulls out his phone again.

Natasha

Doing outpatient runs at the Robot Settlement. Check my availability …

——————

Sampo

Hi Nat

Natasha

Sampo… what is it this time

Sampo

Do yuo

Sampo

Possifbly

Sampo

Have ahny rfee beds in the clinic rn

Natasha

Sampo, are you alright?

Natasha 

It’s a full house right now.

Sampo

Oh okayu

Natasha

Sampo, are you drunk?

Sampo

Nooo

Sampo

Just a bit tired

Natasha

Sampo, when was the last time you’ve eaten?

Sampo

Waat 

Natasha

How long has it been since you’ve slept?

Sampo

Not longgg 

Sampo

I slept lats night dw

Sampo

Can I nap now

Natasha

Sampo, where are you?

Sampo

Ovrwrld

Natasha

It would be too strenuous for you to take all those stairs down back to the Underworld. Try to find somewhere to rest. What about your Overworld apartment?

Sampo

No

Sampo

Silvermane guards

Natasha

Oh.

Natasha

Do you think anyone would be willing to lend you a bed for the night? I can meet you up there in the morning.

Sampo

Not yet

Natasha

Sampo…

Natasha

I’m not going to find you sleeping on the benches. Again.

Natasha

Sampo?

Natasha

Are you there?

Natasha

You’re reading the messages.

Natasha

Hello??

+++

Sampo, miraculously, has managed to get himself into a worse situation than before. 

Somewhere in between the time when he started texting Natasha and leaving her on seen, he started hiking up the snowy plains on the skirts of Belobog. More importantly, he knows a certain parlour car is nearby, and he imagines it has at least one extra bed. Maybe a few souvenirs he could nick.

The Astral Express Crew wouldn’t mind another passenger for a day, would they?

He pauses his walk with a groan as another wave of pain shakes his head, making his eyes dial ye and vision go hazy. He closes his eyes and takes a few breaths, don’t wimp out. You deserve this, Sampo. You always have.

Sometimes he wonders what lead him to where he is today. Sometimes he wonders if it’s right to feel so dejected and to expect it. To have no one to look out for him. He set himself up for it, didn’t he? A con man wanted dead or alive, making everyone weary of him to the point they barely even exchange small talk. Someone who could put on so many faces and disguises to get what he wants, a phony.

What a shit day, Sampo thinks, smiling dejectedly. It’ll be better tomorrow. I’ll treat myself too, like the awesome person I am.

… Maybe the Astral Express would be so kind, to lend me a hand.

Trailblazer

[no bio]

——————

Sampo

Fam

Trailblazer

What do you want

Trailblazer

How do I block u

Sampo

My dear cutomre i am mreely asking for a small favour!!!

Trailblazer

Does it involve me and money and scamming people

Sampo

Only rhe firts part::)

Trailblazer

Ugh

Sampo

Hacing a bad day my friend? ?

Trailblazer

Yeah. Really bad

Sampo

… feels targeted

Sampo

I wat to browow one roon on that train

Sampo

Of

Sampo

Urs

Sampo

one night only, no strings attafched 

Trailblazer

???

Sampo

so we got a deal? Fam

Trailblazer

Wtf no

Trailblazer is now offline.

Sampo

?

Sampo

Fam pls

+++

Okay, that’s it, Sampo’s losing it.

He’s bracing himself on the nearest rock he could find as he tries to blink away the snow and harsh wind coming his way. He coughs harshly, gaining the attention of a nearby fragmentum creature. 

A flamespawn. How cute.

“Hey there, little buddy,” Sampo barely gets out, “there’s no need to attack, I—”

Another wave of nausea hits him, and he slumps to the ground. The flamespawn trills, slowly getting closer. Sampo Koski is not dying to a flamespawn, of all things. There is one person he could call, but he doubts this person would respond. Or maybe if they do, it’s probably just to reject him like the rest.

Sampo groans, long and exhausted, lying on his back. He tries conversing with the creature, he’s really going insane. “I’m a mess. No one likes me. They barely tolerate me.”

The flamespawn is warm — well, it’s a flamespawn — as it inches forward, weary. Sampo unconsciously moves closer to the heat source. Is that… tears forming near his eyes? Wow, this is getting way too dramatic, even for him. 

It’s so cold, he’s so tired, and the snow is a perfect place to disintegrate. Bonus points for the fragmentum creature that’s probably going to eat him after he passes out.

His phone is still in his hand, the cartoon phone case dull from constant holding. He smiles, he paid good money for that commission.

The contacts app is already open when he unlocks the phone. He scrolls down, and more down, until a certain contact’s call button is underneath his thumb. Gepard Landau.

As much as Sampo and Gepard have their little cat-and-mouse chases, they rarely talk out of those scenarios. Maybe Sampo has seen him once or twice at the supermarket, but he’s not that desperate to get a hot guy to chase him all the time. 

With a shuddering breath, he lets his body relax into the snow as he clicks the call button. It’s probably not even possible to connect from this area to Belobog, but… dunno, Sampo’s just making excuses.

The ring sound registers softly in his ears. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring…

The line picks up. What the fuck? “Gepard Landau speaking.”

Sampo coughs, perfect timing. “H— hey, esteemed Landau…”

“… Sampo,” Gepard greets. “what is it?”

Sampo closes his eyes, feeling a warm sensation flooding his brain all of a sudden. “I—”

He gets sent into another coughing fit. The flamespawn squawks at the sudden noise, its wings flaring out and letting Sampo feel that beautiful sensation of warmth once again.

“Sampo, is that… a fragmentum creature?” He hears shuffling on Gepard’s side. “Sampo, where are you?”

“Since when did you care?” Sampo chuckles wetly. Shit, is he crying more? “Don’t you have some knightly duties to attend to in the morning?”

“Sampo, are you—” Gepard pauses, “where are you, Sampo?”

“‘M… outskirts of Belobog…” Sampo turns to his side, now facing the flamespawn. Do they even have faces? Where’s its butt? How does it eat? Does it eat?

“The outskirts?! Sampo, are—” more shuffling. “Sampo, are you warm? Do you have shelter? A heat source?”

“No, ‘m…” Sampo’s voice cracks. “‘M cold, Gepard…”

The flamespawn shrieks again. It’s like it can sense his demise.

“Sampo, just— just stay on the line, okay? I need you to describe the area for me. Can you do that?”

“Y…” Apparently, Sampo can’t do that. He blacks out.

“Sampo? Can you hear me? Sampo!”

Chapter Text

Sampo wakes up to unnervingly bright lights assaulting his eyes. Obviously he’s going to recoil at the overloading sight.

After squinting for a bit and letting his eyes adjust to the brightness, he turns his head to the side. Pants flood his vision. White pants. Isn’t white one of the highest costing colours of fabric to seek in Belebog? It’s probably white slacks from a doctor and he’s overthinking it, but still.

Wait, why would a doctor be here? Is he at the hospital? 

His eyes roam upwards, and you know what he finds waiting for him? Gepard Landau. Sitting on a chair. Arms crossed. Dozing off. Well, I’m royally fucked.

Sampo blinks. Is this real? He tries to reach out a hand to touch Gepard’s soft, peaceful face. To caress it or slap it, he’s still deciding. He doesn’t have enough strength after just waking the fuck up, though, so it flops down and lands on the blond’s thigh.

Gepard jolts awake, those pretty blue irises showing. They widen when they lock with Sampo’s, and he pushes his chair back to kneel down so his face meets the bedridden man. “You’re awake.”

Sampo blinks. “You… came…?”

“Yes, Sampo.” Gepard breathes out, and if Sampop were delusional enough he’d say the man was smiling. “Of course I came. You called.”

Sampo sighs softly. He lets his head tilt forward, closer to Gepards. He lets himself have this before everything goes into more spreads than the mess that was… wait.

“How… how long have I been asleep for?”

Gepard hums. “Two days. You were really out of it, Sampo. I was worried.”

That gets Sampo to snort. “Real funny, Gepard. If you want to arrest me can you at least wait until I’m recovered?”

Said man’s eyebrows furrow. “No.”

“But—”

“I’m not arresting you, Sampo.”

That gets him to feel awake, he feels his vision fog as he sits up fully, his head still pounding, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s been hit by multiple trains made from the finest metals and sharpest weaponry. “You’re not?” He asks, a little hope swelling. You shouldn’t feel this way.

“You’re—” Gepard lets out a gruff sigh. “Sampo, do you understand how serious this is? Do you remember anything from before you passed out in the cold?”

Sampo blinks. “I was really hungry? And Natasha was supposed to pick me up.”

“I…” Gepard makes an inhumane noise. It’s kind of cute, but maybe Sampo’s still delusional from everything going on. He can’t find Gepard cute; it’ll be a hopeless chase. It already is. “Sampo, you really worried me. I’m sorry for everything.”

“But… What are you sorry for?” Sampo asks, slightly exasperated. “This is all my fault—”

“Don’t say that.” A gloved hand tightly grips his own on the soft mattress. Gepard looks him dead in the eye. “Never say that, especially regarding this situation.”

“Dearest Gepard, why are you—”

“Sampo Koski.” Oh, the full name. This is dangerous. “Do you know what you said to me, before I took you to the hospital?”

Sampo can only stare. “Uh, ‘I owe you 1,415 shield?’”

Gepard takes a breath. “Sampo. Take this seriously—”

+++

“Sampo! Sampo, are you— are you hurt anywhere? Do you know where you are? Do you remember me?” Stiff hands gently shake a freezing frame.

“Gepard… why…”

“Sampo, look at me. You have to stay awake, okay? Can you do that for me?”

A giggle. “Okay~”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“… Wanted shelter…”

“On the outskirts of Belebog, you wanted shelter?” A deep inhale. “Sampo, you’re—”

“Why do you think you can be… n— nice to me after all you’ve— you’ve done?”

“—in serious… what?”

“You… you’re the reason I’m finding shelter. The reason I don’t have a home up here.”

“Sampo, what? What do you mean?”

“The fragmentum was… was okay, I could stand it. You didn’t need to burn my apartment…”

“Burn your… what— when did I do that?!”

“Dunno. The guards said it was under your… c— command…”

“Sampo, don’t…”

“Why, Gep— Gepard… why a—are you… so… s—so…”

“Sampo, you’re freezing, please just—”

“Gep… i— it’s cold…”

“I know, I promise, Sampo, i—it’s going to be alright. Just stay awake, okay?”

“…”

“Sampo?”

+++

“—I’m sorry for not looking over what my guards did to your apartment, I’m sorry for not coming sooner, and I’m sorry for— for letting this pass by me, Sampo. You don’t deserve this. No citizen of Belebog does.”

But I’m not a citizen of Belobog. “So… I didn’t spew any embarrassing stories? Like that time I mistook a vending machine for a refrigerator?” Sampo freezes, then groans. “Ah, wait. I spewed it—”

Gepard’s face contorts into annoyance, basically glaring daggers into Sampo’s eyes. “Are you being serious right now?”

He pouts, making sure it’s over exaggerated. “Yes. Why—”

“Malnutrition. Exhaustion from malnutrition. Several unattended injuries across your whole body,” Gepard leans in, a bit too close for comfort, “and so much more on your file. Sampo, how do you live with yourself?”

“Uh…” Sampo smiles weakly. “Persistence?”

“Sampo.”

“… Look,” He glares at Gepard, “Apartments are fucking expensive, okay? And my quaint little one was perfect until you— your guards—”

“I can’t express how sorry I am for that, Sampo,” The other man says, dejected, “but if you’re saving so much that you’re starving yourself, I don't— this isn’t right.”

“Why do you care?” Sampo seethes, frustration boiling deep in his gut. “What made this time so special that—”

“You almost died, Sampo!” Gepard grips his shoulders tight and smashes their foreheads together, which would hurt if this wasn’t what Sampo has been wanting since the day they first clashed. “How can I just sit there watching you of all people slowly—” his voice cracks, “slowly freeze to death!”

For a moment, nothing happened. Maybe the plant on the desk wilted by the slightest, someone in their home probably sneezed, but all of that is nothing compared to what is happening now, in this stupidly bright room, between Gepard and Sampo. It’s kinda uncomfortable, since all of Sampos body except his torso and up is facing the front, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Their noses are touching. Gerard’s eyes are so blue, like the sky, and all Sampo can muster is… “Oh.”

Gepard stays silent, and harshly sighs. He lets go of Sampo gently. “I hate to admit it, but— I care about you, Sampo.” Gepard mutters something incoherent after that. (“More than I ever wanted to.”)

Sampo blinks. Blinks again. Blinks one more time just to make sure that this is real and anything can happen at this point. 

He slaps Gepard in the face. 

Gepard looks stunned, hand reaching out to softly touch the place Sampo absolutely whacked the shit out of. “Sampo, what—”

As if on cue, Sampo reaches out to hug him tight. He starts crying, sobbing even, and he can’t even dare to imagine how Gepard sees him now. “You fucking asshole.” Probably pathetic, given the way he lets out a sob. The sheer difference between the intentions of him slapping Gepard and the want to absolutely smother him with hugs make him cry even harder. “I fucking hate you— why are you so—”

Gepard is frozen through this. If Sampo’s thoughts were more coherent, he would’ve felt arms hug him back. 

+++

“You’re staying with me.” 

Sampo turns around. He just got out of the hospital after a week, and he ignored the worried look on the nurse’s face after saying ‘you only got the minimal treatment, sir—’ like it mattered. He’s feeling quite good, actually. Better than ever. Breathing in the fresh air of Belobog always made him relish the moment. “Hmm?”

Gepard takes a step closer to him, and Sampo raises a brow. “I said, you’re staying with me. Until you get an apartment up here.” 

“Uh-huh,” Sampo nods along, slowly, “so you’re going to risk housing a criminal just so I can save a few more shield?”

“Yes.” Gepard has such a determined look on his face, and Sampo can’t help but be concerned for the former’s work if his mindset is ‘criminal hurt, criminal excused.’

“No, Gepard, I can’t, I—”

“Yes you can.”

Sampo sighs. “Gepard, you’re such a cutie, but—”

“Sampo, please.” Gloved hands grab his own. Gepard brings them towards their chest. “I won’t let anything hurt you again. I can’t.”

Sampo can only smile. He huffs. “Well, aren’t you stubborn? Won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, I presume.”

“No.” Gepard grips his hands tighter. 

Sampo mills over things quickly, and yeah. It seems pretty nice, living with the hottest guy ever just until he can get an apartment. A win-win situation. He’ll make minimal physical contact with him, mildly flirt with him at most, and just be cool. Very cool. So cool, in fact, that he’ll lay off on his clients for a bit. Radio silence for a week should’ve been more than enough for a message that he’s on the downlow.

“‘Kay.” He breaks out of Gepard’s tight grasp and wraps his arms around the blond’s arm. Very toned. “Lead the way, Captain.” 

If he noticed Gepard ‘s ears turn a furious red, he doesn’t mention anything. Maybe he leans in a bit more to really take in that red, who knows.

+++

“You live here? Alone?” Sampo whistles low as he scans the apartment. It’s more like a bourse if you think about it, but houses are but a mere luxury that one can only fantasize about. The walls are a pristine white, contrast to the honey brown wooden floor, and the furniture of the living room and the counter of the built-in kitchen are both and off-white. There’s a photo of the Landau family on top of the couch, and Sampo really wants to squish young Gepard’s cheeks.

“Not anymore.” Gepard takes off his shoes and slides them to the edge of the door. Sampo follows suit. “You’ll stay in the guest room down the hall. It’s next to mine, in case you need anything at odd hours. On weekdays, I leave at four thirty and come back home at seven. Sometimes nine. There’s some weeks where I may have to stay in the Restricted Zone. Make yourself comfortable.”

With that dump of information, Gepard beelines for his room. Sampo is left there, in the apartment. If there was only one person living here, it must’ve been lonely. Very lonely. Sampo frowns.

He takes a seat on the couch, staring at his blurry reflection on the TV that is stationed on the wall opposite to him. So high-tech, but it doesn’t seem loved. Not a lot of this apartment seems loved, actually. Maybe the bed or some of the artworks, but there’s certainly more unloved than loved. 

+++

“You’re hurt.”

“Hm? Yeah, I know.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Don't arrest me?”

“…”

+++

“Hands in the air.”

“Yeah just— just lemme…”

“Are you… are you injured?”

“H—hah, maybe?”

“… Guards, leave the scene.”

+++

“Have you ever thought about visiting a hospital?”

“What? No, have you seen how expensive they are?”

“I… I have, yes.”

“Then even you should know why I don’t go there. Nat’s better.”

“Who’s…”

“Don’t ask.”

+++

If Sampo wasn’t healing with very obvious bandages around his arms, neck, and abdomen, he’s sure that Serval would immediately taze him with the holes she’s glaring into his eyes.

“Serval…” Gepard sighs tiredly. 

Serval leans on the doorframe. “You didn’t tell me you had someone staying over.”

Gepard looks back at Sampo, sitting on the leather couch. Sampo curls in on the blanket surrounding him. It’s only been a week and Gepard refuses to see him without at least two layers surrounding his upper body. The blanket around his shoulders suddenly feels very, very heavy.

 Gepard slowly turns his head back to his sister. “Surprise…?”

Serval walks in, boots clacking heavily with each slow step. “Y’know, Geppie, I wouldn’t take you to have a criminal boyfriend.”

Sampo scoffs, “it’s not like—”

“So what, Serval?”

He swears his head audibly snaps as he looks back at Gepard. Did he just say they’re boyfriends?

Gepard smiles softly. “I love him. So what?”

Serval scoffs. “I housed a wanted criminal first, so I’m technically winning.”

“The Trailblazer transitioned from a criminal to a hero,” Gepard protests, walking to the couch to sit down next to Sampo.

“At the time I was helping him, though, he was a criminal. Don’t you remember this, Geppie?” Serval tsks, “so forgetful. You fought them.”

Gepard groans. “Why are you here?”

“To annoy you.” Serval rolls her eyes. “I need to borrow your hairbrush.”

“You could’ve just—!”

“Shut up.” Serval disappears into the alleyway, heading to the bathroom.

+++

“Gepard, Gep, dearest Landau…”

“What, Sampo?” Gepard passes him a glass of water across the dining table. 

“I have many questions.”

“For me?”

“Of course for you!” Sampo waves his hands around, almost spilling the glass.

“Okay. Go ahead.” Gepard takes a seat across from him. He’s so stunning underneath the small chandelier that emits a warm light. Gepard looks good in any light, really.”

“‘Kay, first question,” Sampo breathes, stabbing the steak with a fork on the plate in front of him, “your sister’s fine with you housing a criminal?”

“An injured criminal,” Gepard corrects, “and yes, she is. She’s done worse in the past, so she can’t tell on me.”

“But— but if someone else finds out, your career’s screwed!”

“Yes.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

Gepard stares at him. “I’m willing to risk it.” For you goes unsaid.

“I’m…” Sampo laughs, soulless. He eats one chunk of dinner before continuing. “Okay, okay. Sure.  Whatever. Question two, what was that jabber about me being your boyfriend?”

That, Gepard pauses on. The blush rises on his cheeks and spreads down his neck and under his shirt. He’s getting so red so quickly, it’s amusing. “Uh…”

“You—”

“I forgot to mention last week,” Gepard coughs into the back of his hand, looking away, “you said something else to me when you were a bit delirious.”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Smapo knows where this is going.

+++

“Sampo, can you hear me?”

“Wh… where…”

“You’re in the hospital, people are going to help you soon. Don’t worry.”

“Why can’t you jus’… help me…”

“You’re— Sampo, I think you’re a bit tired out right now. Just try to—”

“I… I hate…”

“—Hm?”

“I hate… liking you. You’re so…”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so my… my type… and I hate you f’r it.”

“Sampo, are you—”

“St’p askin’ me the same… same question. You’re so perfect I’m g’na pass out.”

“What…”

“Gep… I love you, but… hate you s’ much. Why’re you so…”

“Sampo, you need medical—”

“Please give me CPR.”

“What?!”

“Please. I need it. I want to eat you.”

”You’re… not making any sense…”

+++

“Oh my god…” Sampo buries his head in his hands. “I said that? And you didn’t bother to tell me that oh so crucial information?”

Gepard shrugged. “Slipped my mind.”

Sampo makes a baffled noise, pointing his cutlery accusingly at the man in front of him, “how would it have—”

“It’s inappropriate to play with your cutlery.”

“Dear Qliphoth, out of all the things—”

+++

“So.” Sampo leans on Gepard’s shoulder. “We’re a thing.”

“To Serval, yes,” Gepard nods. “We’re a thing.”

“What about to us?” Sampo presses. “What do you feel about me?”

Silence. So much silence. Sampo doesn’t feel unnerved about a lot of things, but the more silence that passes the more unnerving it becomes. It hasn’t even been 10 seconds. Sinking into the couch seems like the best option right now.

“I…” He can feel Gepard stiffen. Please. Something. Anything, Gepard. “Sampo, you’re truly… encaptivating.”

…What?

“What?” Sampo voices his thoughts, fixing his gaze on Gepard’s side profile.

“I’ve—” Gepard laughs, running his hand through his hair, “it’s silly, really. I’ve liked you for a long, long time.”

… “No,” Sampo breathes out. “No, it’s not meant to go like this.”

“W—what?”

“No,” Sampo barks, “I’m supposed to confess to you and you’re supposed to be ashamed and throw me out and then I drown in depression soda!”

Gepard stays silent, looking into Sampo’s eyes. He cracks a smile. “You… what? Depression soda?” 

“Yes, depression soda,” Sampo pouts. “Grape flavoured.”

Gepard seems baffled, if the wheeze he lets out is anything to go by. “You’re so… so…”

“So depressed?”

“So… cute.”

Sampo blinks at that, then chuckles. “Wow, okay, sure. The wanted criminal you personally drew a poster of to arrest is cute. Very cute.”

“The cutest.” Gepard is beaming, and Sampo is weak.

“Why are you smiling at this?! This is funny to you?!” Sampo tackles Gepard to lay on his back against soft leather. “This wasn’t how I planned my confession at all.”

Gepard’s arms find the large of Sampo’s back, careful of the injuries. “So you like me back.”

Sampo glares at Gepard’s chin. “You wouldn’t date me.”

“Hmm…”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know about that,” Gepard teases. “You’ve cost me and my guards many hours wasted, yes, but you’re still you.”

“What do you mean—”

“Ah,” Gepard yawns, and he’s horrible at fake yawning. So bad it’s adorable. “I’m afraid I have to go to sleep now, I must go to work early in the morning.”

He tries to move, but Sampo stiffness his body so it’s harder to move. He traps Gepard in a bear hug. 

“You deserve this,” he hisses. “Fuckin’ confessing to me and shit.”

“I’m getting punished for confessing my love to you?”

“Yes.”

“Do I—”

“No.”

+++

“Do you actually like me?” The bedroom Gepard has is much bigger than the guest room, Sampo finds, and he wonders if the guest room was actually a storage room at first. It has big shelves and everything.

“Sampo,” Gepard slurs, flipping over and letting his arm flop across Sampo’s chest, “go to sleep.”

“Gep, no,” Sampo squirms. “There’s so much unanswered. Did I say anything else? Why— how did you reach me? You’re… you’re okay with me sleeping right next to you? The script—”

“Sampo. Shut up. I’ll answer stuff t’morrow.”

Right. Tomorrow.

Everything will be fine, tomorrow. Yeah.