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“Men, stay behind me!”
One command and rows upon rows of soldiers heed his call, lining up in perfect, practiced formation against the leagues of Fragmentum. Gepard acknowledges them all with a nod—a silent I will get you out alive—before bringing Earthwork out in front of him, driving it into the ground with some strange mix of determination and sorrow. The latter startles him and, upon acknowledgement, only begins to grow, because something about this battle feels… different, somehow. Some part of him is convinced that something will go very, very wrong, and he cannot shake it off no matter how hard he tries.
He tries to ignore it, but once the gate’s doors burst open and waves of monsters begin to fall upon them, the feeling only worsens. Large, grotesque creatures, with too little weak spots and too many sharp edges, offer Gepard little aid in assuaging his nerves. Rather than worry over it too much, he simply shoulders it as he always has, readying himself for another long night and stamping down his sudden nerves. After all, it’s nothing more than a Captain’s duty. Without his ability to protect them, what else is there to offer up?
Once a barrage of monsters have spilled past the gates, the true problem rears its ugly head—there’s just too many of them, both monsters and men. He can’t possibly protect them all nor focus his attention on one creature for enough time to destroy it. His desperation spikes in all his failed attempts to accomplish one or the other, beginning to sweat as he moves forward. He tries and tries and tries, but more often than not, it is not enough.
The mantra in his mind, constant since his childhood, sinks its claws into his head as a monster does the same to one of his men—you are as much as you offer to Belobog, he reminds himself. Protect your army. Protect your city. He forces himself to remember it, tries to summon a wall of ice strong and tall and simply enough to save his soldiers, but this time is not like the others, and so he fails, again and again. He fights while being all too aware that this is a futile battle, because some small part of him knows that this is not real.
He has fought countless battles like this one, seen all of these soldiers’ names on gravestones, and knows enough to realize that he has no reason to fight. This is a dream, and he is only fighting alongside phantoms of the past, reflecting faces that haunt him from funeral shrines. They are not coming back, and Gepard knows this, has known it for a long time. Perhaps that is why he now chooses to fight harder, chooses to focus on the battalion he has to protect because he has already let them down once before.
Still, his movements are sluggish, weak, feeling hardly lucid as another soldier falls behind him to a monster he fails to kill. “Follow me,” he manages to say, but instead of a command it comes out a mere whisper, echoing a boy cowering behind his sister all those years ago. And now, he’s shaking, hands trembling as he wields his shield, hidden behind Earthwork just like he once did with its maker—and suddenly he is that boy again, always weak, never strong enough—
Gepard wakes with wet eyes and trembling hands, sheets clutched between his fingers like lifelines.
Blinking fast, he gasps for air in an attempt at steady breathing, finding little success as tears streak down his cheeks. With a shuddering breath, he places a hand over his chest, feeling the thundering thrum of his heartbeat as it sounds in his ears, and swallows down a shaky sound before he can hear any more of his own weakness aloud. Nothing comes easy to him after waking from a dream like that; blinking only brings nameless soldiers, each one long gone, swimming through his vision. Simply getting up feels impossible, what with the dread pressing down on him and stealing the breath out of his chest—but Gepard has learned to soldier on through impossible, and so he struggles to sit up despite it all.
When Gepard slides a hand down his face, breath shallow against his palm, he only feels his exhaustion more acutely, entire body taut with the weight of so many lives lost on his shoulders. Soundlessly, he tilts his head back and tries not to focus on it, but he is lost in a crowd of those he failed to protect, face after face after face until they all blur together, crushed by a phantom army of his own making. There’s so many of them, he thinks, cradling his face in his hands with a full-body shudder. Every breath he takes is loud and unnecessary and harsh, curling into himself and feeling so, so small in his bed.
The most he can do for himself now is pitifully attempt to focus his attention elsewhere, straining himself to listen to his surroundings and distract himself. It barely helps—all he hears is a light breeze, the window clicking shut, the quiet creaking of his bed as he moves. It’s all too quiet and too inconsistent to—
Gepard startles, jolted out of a panic. The window?
Upon the belated realization, he quickly gets out of bed, arms raised. In any other circumstance, he would cut a more imposing figure, but he barely has the energy to stand tall at the moment. Right now, he barely feels awake, merely sleepwalking through the motions of a defender. Despite that, he remains resigned to a fight, fists up as he gently makes his way to the door.
He’s only a few steps away from the doorknob when he begins to consider his situation. What would an intruder be doing in his apartment? The place is barely decorated, with little items of value, even in a sentimental sense. It also doesn’t help that, since the window lock, the entire place has been silent. Paired with how tired Gepard is, it would be easy to say that this “intruder” is only a figment of his imagination. After all, no criminal is arrogant enough to break into his apartment believing they could escape. Only one man has ever done that, and he’s… He’s…
Oh.
The full picture comes into view at the same time Sampo Koski opens the door to his bedroom, and his face is such a breath of fresh air that the relief surging through Gepard upon seeing him very nearly knocks him to the floor.
“Well, well! If it isn’t my favorite Captain!” Sampo shuts the door behind him, all smiles and long strides, and Aeons, Gepard can’t believe he didn’t know sooner. There’s only one man who can break into his apartment, let alone without a sound. (Also the only man who has a spare key to his apartment, but naturally Sampo decides to come in through the window anyway.) His heartbeat eases up just a bit, and he lets out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Sampo steps closer, and Gepard watches as his eyebrows furrow, knitted together in concern. “You holding up okay without me, Geppie?”
“...Not really,” is all he manages before he slides unceremoniously down to the floor, shameful at the fatigue written all over his face. Immediately, Sampo rushes to his side, hands hovering over his waist, a silent ask for permission to touch. Gepard nods, and without another word Sampo lifts him back onto his feet.
“Let’s get you to the bed,” Sampo murmurs against his ear, arms circled around his waist even after he’s steady and upright. Gepard revels in the warmth more than he’d like to admit, though knowing Sampo, the hum in his voice says he already knows. “Trouble sleeping, mm?”
Gepard’s settled down into bed with a tender touch he’s finding himself more familiar with every day. Sampo’s hands are warm in his own as he lies down next to him, staring at him intently, searching for the source of his discomfort. Gepard feels his words caught in his throat, finds himself unable to explain the situation, but sees he doesn’t have to. Sampo looks at him—the haunted look in his eye, the way his shoulders sag—and understands. Knows enough to see the problem and not ask outright.
Sampo lets a tentative pause pass between them before he breaks the silence. “You know it’s not your fault.”
“Mm.”
Sampo leans over and runs a hand through his hair, carefully smoothing it out as he continues speaking. Without much internal protest, Gepard leans into the touch with a shaky sigh. “You’ve saved lots of people, Geppie. For what it’s worth, you’ve helped everybody in this city to live, really live without fear, y'know? I, at least, am very grateful for your service.” His tone takes on a teasing lilt, and Gepard rolls his eyes. “And I’d be willing to do anything to show you how grateful I am…”
With a huff, he pushes a hand in Sampo’s face to shut him up, smiling at the warm laugh he feels against it. “No need to do… whatever you’re thinking of,” he mumbles, squeezing his hand. “Just staying here for the night is good enough for me.”
Sampo’s face lights up at the contact. “Then Sampo Koski is proud to assist, Captain!” He leans in and kisses Gepard on the forehead, hand cupping the back of his neck. “Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”
Gepard shrugs halfheartedly. “Just having you here is more than enough, Sampo. You don’t need to do anything special for me.”
The other man blinks rapidly, expression twisted in faux concern. Immediately, he tilts Gepard’s head closer, eyebrows furrowed as if studying his face. “Unnaturally corny of you, Geppie… An intervention really is in order!”
A small huff of laughter slips past him, leaning back into Sampo’s warm touch. “I’m serious. I appreciate the company, Sampo, but—” and he carefully pushes himself up with his other hand, letting out a sigh, “this is far from the first time this has happened. I shouldn’t be expecting any outside help.”
Sampo does a double take, spluttering. “Sweetheart, I don’t think anyone expects you to do this all alone! I’m here, and I’d rather offer myself up to Qlipoth’s wrath than leave you to your own devices right now.”
“Sampo,” Gepard warns.
“I’m serious!” Sampo’s face is open and earnest as he takes his hand, sending a jittery warmth in Gepard’s chest that he tries to welcome, as new as it is. Gently—with the burn of a lover’s touch—he slides his hand down from his neck to his cheek, leaving addicting warmth in its wake. It’s all too distracting for Gepard to think about anything else, settling to watch Sampo as he presses their foreheads together. “Let me help you, Gepard… please?”
Sampo has never asked for anything so seriously, so pleadingly. His voice hangs off of the last word, and Gepard finds it a little disconcerting, to be put in such a position. It feels reverent; Gepard can barely breathe. “I can get through this by myself,” he insists, though weakly. “I shouldn’t need any help.”
“That’s not the point,” Sampo murmurs, stroking his thumb lovingly across his cheek. “The point is: do you want any?”
A heavy moment of silence follows. Gepard has to refuse, he knows. He doesn’t deserve it, hasn’t earned the help of others just yet—but his voice is stubbornly tangled in his throat when he tries to say it aloud. In its place is a deep ache settled in his chest, soothed only by Sampo’s touch, a wanting that he cannot choke back. He can't get rid of it any other way, so he finally relaxes against Sampo, eyes falling shut. “Yes,” he whispers with a shaky breath. “I do.”
“Then help is what I’ll do!” Sampo gives him a charismatic smile, sharp and sweet. “Like I said, Sampo Koski is happy to assist—even for free!”
“I don’t think you’d ever let me pay for this,” Gepard laughs.
Sampo scoffs in mock offense. “Geppie, I would never! Say what, you get the partner discount—free on anything I can offer!” He gives him a soft, brief kiss, letting out a happy sigh when Gepard pulls him closer. “I’ll take care of you tonight, I promise.”
Gepard’s mind can’t help but document every touch Sampo provides past that point, subconsciously tracking his hands even as he closes his eyes. When he’s gently turned around and pushed to lean against him, Gepard can only melt into his chest, hands reaching back blindly to wind into his hair. “You’re so tense,” Sampo comments as his hands roam across his back. “Can you take your shirt off?”
Gepard practically whirls around, blinking slowly as he registers the question. “Excuse me?”
“Hey—it’s not like that!” The warmth of Sampo’s hands disappears from his body, instead held up in a placating gesture. Gepard only raises an eyebrow. “Look, Geppie, I was once a renowned masseuse—”
“Oh, so that’s what this is?”
“—on another planet, actually very profitable business, isn’t that shocking? And yes,” Sampo smacks his arm with a surprised laugh, “that’s what this is. Aeons, Captain, what were you expecting?” Sampo leans in with a coy smile, teasingly kissing trails along his jaw. Despite himself, a laugh bubbles past Gepard’s chest at the light sensation. “While I certainly wouldn’t mind, I’m expecting you to get lots of sleep tonight, Geppie. Unfortunately for us, I’m sure that,” he mimics Gepard’s earlier words, “whatever you’re thinking of isn’t a good way to accomplish that.”
Gepard can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the implication now, turning away to hide the beginnings of a flush as it spreads across his face. “How good are you exactly?” he asks instead, avoiding the conversation.
“I’ll blow your mind,” Sampo chirps without missing a beat. “Believe me, Geppie, I wasn’t some two-bit fraud!”
Gepard laughs but takes his shirt off anyway. “I think I may just trust you on that.”
Turns out Sampo wasn’t lying—his hands work wonders to the knots in his back, albeit with some trouble. “Aeons,” Sampo gasps, aghast, “how were you planning on sleeping in this kind of state?” He can feel Sampo wince at how tight his muscles are, fingers gliding over his shoulder blades. “No, no—not even sleeping, how do you fight like this?”
Gepard shifts in his spot, feeling a little sheepish over Sampo’s pure disbelief. “Is it that bad?” he asks, blinking slowly. “I always thought it was—ow!”
“Geppie, I love you,” and he kisses his cheek to accentuate his affection, “but I think we need to make this a normal thing.” He kneads his shoulders with his hands, letting out a hiss. “I knew you were sculpted, Captain—well aware!—but I didn’t know it was out of literal marble.”
Gepard swats at his face, frowning. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, especially when mixed with an insult.”
“Yes, sweetheart, it won’t, but hopefully it’ll get you to relax a little more?” Sampo plants a kiss to the back of his neck and, true to expectation, Gepard melts a bit, shoulders losing some of their tension. Always observant, Sampo appears to notice this, if the smile heard in his voice is any inclination. “There we go. Who knew a small kiss could get you to calm down so much?”
Without any hesitation, he traces his mouth up Gepard's neck, seemingly satisfied as he leans into him. “You’re beautiful,” Sampo whispers against his skin, fingertips pressing lightly into his upper back. “You feeling any better?”
“Well, I’m definitely distracted,” Gepard replies playfully, throat humming under every careful press of Sampo’s mouth. “But yes, I am. So... Thank you.” Gepard shakes his head, letting out a shallow breath. “Now that you’re here, I… I hate to admit it, but I’m not sure what I would have done without you.”
The other man hums as he continues working, hands smoothing over his pale skin. “Happy to be here, Geppie. Always. Just glad I caught you in time.”
—
Once Sampo begins to complain about how his hands ache and Gepard has felt the beginnings of fatigue creep back up on him, they’re both under the blanket with Gepard’s head on his shoulder. Carefully, delicately, he presses kisses to Sampo's hands, trailing a path from his fingertips to his wrists. “You didn’t have to go so far,” he murmurs, “though I appreciate the effort, truly.”
“It was nothing compared to my years as a masseuse!” Sampo says proudly. “Though you are a… special case, Geppie, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” His arms wrap around Gepard’s chest, legs tangling together as one hand plays with his hair. “Just glad to be of service to my favorite client.”
“Oh, come on.” With nothing more than a loving smile, Gepard tilts his head into his neck, breathing him in, now readily accepting the warmth he gives. It's strange to be loved so dearly, especially by the man who had once been the bane of his existence. (Though should he be so surprised? He did think about him a lot, even while they were still only captain and criminal.) “Speaking of clients, why would you ever become a masseuse?”
“Surprisingly lucrative business,” Sampo responds, waving his hand dismissively before placing it back into Gepard’s hair. “The beginning-to-end is a long story, believe me!—but I wouldn’t mind telling you a story to get you to bed, if you want.”
Gepard frowns. “I’m not a child, Sampo.”
“But you do like my voice,” Sampo teases, and that shuts him up well enough. “Besides, I’m sure you’d like to hear about the world outside of your little bubble, or am I wrong?”
Sampo’s right on all fronts, unfortunately; Gepard would have liked to turn things around on him. “I… am interested,” he finally says, settling further into Sampo’s chest. That way, he can feel the rumble of triumph, that bark of laughter from the thief that makes it worth giving in. “So, where were you?”
“Well, another planet in Epsilon, because everything strange happens in Epsilon, turns out!” Sampo’s voice is expressive as always, even so late in the night as he begins his story. “It’s like this: anyone can make it big because anything can happen. And, well, your favorite conman had to make a living! Otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you today.”
“And you didn’t…”
“Con anybody? Aeons, no!” Sampo rolls his eyes playfully, and Gepard tries not to appear as confused as he feels. “The other times I’d been, the locals had already identified me, even kept a file. No way of escaping, and I’d exhausted all my other go-to identities in places too close by. So… nobody to be but the Sampo Koski!” He does a flourish with his hand—a flick of a wrist and a flutter of his fingertips, and it’s so dramatic Gepard stifles a yawn with a laugh. “I’ve always been told I have nimble hands, and I definitely don’t think a mercenary was what they wanted over there.”
Gepard feels himself struggling to stay awake as he continues, soothed by the consistency of Sampo’s fingers combing through his hair. “And so you… gave massages instead?” he asks, drowsiness oozing into his voice.
“Not by total choice. Here’s the interesting part: I found my way into a spa for a little work-up, you know, what people do on vacation, and all of a sudden an employee comes up to me and asks me if I need anything!”
There’s a moment of silence. Gepard looks up at him, squinting. “...And?”
“And I recognized him, Captain! He was exactly the man I had been looking for!” Sampo chuckles and leans back, gently pulling Gepard with him. “There was a little… mischief I was looking to commit on this planet, you see, and this man was supposed to play a vital part in it. I’d never leave without causing at least a bit of trouble, Geppie, you know me!”
Ah. He understands now what kind of story this is. “Sampo,” he groans. “Is this about you stealing something?”
“Not stealing,” Sampo amends. “That’s not all I can do!”
“Don’t say it like you’re proud,” Gepard mutters, but honestly, he can’t help but smile at his tone. “Now what?”
Sampo clears his throat, all dramatic once again, as if stepping back into a role. “Well, I had already known this guy was a total stiff. Stick in the mud, because when I joked around with him he stayed strictly business! Eventually, I found out that the only way to stay close to this man was to join his staff and go from there.” He thrums a rhythm on Gepard’s back with his other hand, flexing his fingers. “Like I said, nimble hands. Plus an ability to adapt? I was hired very quickly!”
When Gepard detaches himself from Sampo slightly to stare, the expression on his face makes him look like he’s reliving it all again—each memory in vivid detail, a lifetime of journeys in places far, far away from here. Beneath all his obligations, Gepard realizes he’d like to join him on some of those in the future. “Sounds nice,” he says simply, blinking slowly as he yawns. “I’m sure you terrorized him somehow, though?”
“Terrorized? I might as well have saved his life!” Sampo huffs and buries himself with tracing his fingers lightly across the scars on Gepard’s skin, a reassuring gesture despite its unfamiliarity. “I took some inspiration from my patron Aeon and stayed at that spa for a while. Turns out giving people massages isn’t such a bad life! Paired with this charm,” and he winks at Gepard just to make the point (to which he flushes but scoffs), “Mr. Tall, Blue, and Handsome made his true origins here. Unfortunately, I am but a Fool, and so I couldn’t possibly have kept up that lifestyle forever. I introduced a couple… changes to make the establishment more fun before I departed, of course!”
“And now I’m nervous,” Gepard mumbles. “You saved his life with what you did?”
“Saved him from a life of boredom, Captain. Nobody should live such a bleak life.” Sampo clicks his tongue a couple times, kissing his forehead. “That’s why you have me! Although, this incident happened in my more wild days, so I won’t be doing any of that to you, sweetheart.”
“And what did you do, exactly?”
Sampo thinks it over for a moment before he answers, casually listing them off as they come to mind. “Introduced water balloons, subtly started a couple fights so we could use them… ended up causing chaos in the spa, rigged some pipes leading to the spa pools for some extra modifications, and, oh! Also may have nicked a few items off of customers during massages. So a little stealing. Sorry, Captain!”
“...Be glad your story worked,” Gepard mumbles, to which Sampo already begins to laugh, “because otherwise I’d be beating your ass, Koski.”
“Reverting back to last-name basis is cold and you know it,” Sampo whines, letting out an affronted sound when Gepard jabs him in the side. “Ow! It wasn’t all expensive damages, it actually did some good. I became great at massages and the old man learned to have some fun! Plus most of the customers didn’t even know they lost anything…!” Sampo kisses him long and soft to calm him, holding him close as Gepard grumbles. “Come on, sweetheart, it was so long ago. I won’t pull any stunts like that when we travel, so it’s okay!”
That makes Gepard freeze, his confusion reflected in Sampo’s eyes as he stares blankly at him. “Are we… going somewhere?” he asks, voice a bit too hopeful for the duty-bound Captain he’s so used to being. “Together?”
“Whether you like it or not,” Sampo hums happily, curling closer to him and sliding his hand down to rest on his waist. “You’re stuck with me, and that means you’re getting a well-deserved vacation. We’ll go anywhere you want!”
Such effortless confirmation makes Gepard feel so loved, somehow, the warmth in his heart set to bursting at how easily the words come as an answer. He wants to say more to show him, but the exhaustion gnawing at his mind keeps him from forming any intelligent sentences. “Anywhere?” he says instead, hands reaching to cup Sampo’s face in his hands.
“Anywhere.” Sampo tilts further into his touch, eyes soft, mouth curled into a gentle smile. “If you wanted me to, Geppie, I’d show you the galaxy. No questions asked.” Slowly, he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, relaxing into Gepard’s hold. “Unfortunately for us, I think it’s time for us to sleep, Captain. It’s very late, and I need beauty sleep to maintain my face, y’know?”
“Mm.” Gepard smiles at the remark, giving him a nod before taking the moment to admire Sampo before he closes his eyes. It’s difficult to imagine that the man he’d once chased desperately across alleyways is the same one next to him; the thief who’d flirted and teased him relentlessly now lays contentedly in his arms, stroking his hair with a quiet yawn. It’s all so comforting, makes it easy to breathe—it's enough to make the bubbly feeling in his chest sing as he closes the distance between them with another kiss, drowsily pulling him in with sluggish hands.
Sampo’s eyes flutter shut, breaking away after with a smile and an openly affectionate touch. “What was that for?” the thief asks with a hint of confusion, though his tone is moreso as giddy as Gepard feels.
“For everything,” Gepard breathes, melting into his body. “Stay in the morning too, will you?”
Sampo doesn't miss a beat with Gepard, never does—so he kisses his forehead and holds him a little bit tighter in the dark, a confirmation all on its own. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving, Geppie.”