Chapter Text
Sampo Koski yawned.
Belobog was so boring without Gepard around. The Captain had been sent to the front lines for a bit, and everything was so dull without him. The streets were clean, the guards predictable and easy to avoid, and even the snow had stopped doing anything interesting. He’d wandered past the same cafés, the same shops, the same exhibits in the museum, been chased by the same guards who just didn’t scratch the itch like Gepard did… and then it hit him: why not become a guard? Just for the day!
It was absurd. It was reckless. It was exactly the kind of thing Sampo loved.
In a few hours, he was on his way to the Restricted Zone, disguise tucked under one arm ready to change into.
The Silvermane Guard uniform was heavier than it looked - structured, stiff, meant to impose order just by existing. The collar brushed his jaw every time he turned his head, and the insignia on his chest felt like it burned if he thought about it too long.
And it was so fucking itchy.
He adjusted his gloves, tucked his hair into the hat, and smirked at his reflection in a window before settling into his character. Stand straight. Puff out your chest. Look serious.
Tragic, really.
He milled around the barracks, nodding at other guards as they walked past, not entirely sure what he was looking for. It was interesting, seeing things from the inside as opposed to his totally definitely legal visits of the past. And if a few Shield and trinkets happen to find their way into his pockets, well isn’t that just peculiar?
“Guard.”
Sampo froze. The single word cut through his daydreaming like a blade.
He turned.
There he was. Captain Gepard Landau. Upright, perfect, glaring, clipboard in hand like a weapon. The kind of stare that could make even the most fearless mercenary rethink their life choices.
“Sir!” Sampo snapped to salute, trying to stifle a giggle.
Gepard’s eyes narrowed. “You’re new.”
“Yes, sir,” Sampo said, voice pitched low, trying for the official tone. “First assignment.”
Gepard stepped closer, just a fraction, but close enough to make Sampo’s pulse kick up. His boots made no sound on the stone, but the weight of him pressed into Sampo like gravity had suddenly shifted. His ice blue eyes drilled into Sampo’s soul.
“You seem… familiar,” Gepard said, words feeling like an interrogation.
Sampo bit the inside of his cheek. “I just have one of those faces, I guess.”
Gepard didn’t look convinced.
He circled Sampo slowly, boots echoing faintly against the stone floor, eyes sharp and unblinking. Sampo held himself rigid, spine straight, jaw set - doing his best impression of someone who had never lied, cheated, or fled a crime scene in his life.
It was exhausting.
“Hm,” Gepard murmured, stopping just behind him. “You’re standing incorrectly.”
Sampo blinked. “I - sir?”
Gepard reached out before Sampo could think better of it. A gloved hand pressed between his shoulder blades, firm and unyielding. “Shoulders back. You’re slouching.”
The contact sent a jolt straight down Sampo’s spine. He swallowed, biting back a grin as he exaggerated the correction, puffing his chest out just a little too much.
“Like this, sir?”
Gepard’s hand lingered a second longer than strictly necessary.
“…Yes,” he said, after a pause. “Better.”
Sampo could feel the stare boring into the side of his face now, close enough that if he turned his head even slightly, he’d be nose-to-nose with the Captain. The itchiness of the uniform faded into the background, replaced by the far more dangerous thrill of fooling his most precious Captain.
Gepard moved in front of him again, clipboard tucked under one arm. “Name.”
Sampo’s mind raced. He couldn’t use any of his usual aliases - half of them were probably already on some kind of watchlist.
“…Chernow,” he said smoothly. “Boris Chernow.”
Gepard’s brow furrowed.
Sampo held his breath.
“…Very well,” Gepard said at last, scribbling something down. “You’ll be accompanying me on patrol today.”
Sampo’s grin twitched, barely contained. “An honour, sir.”
“If you make a mistake,” Gepard continued, tone flat, “you’ll answer directly to me.”
Sampo met his gaze, eyes glittering beneath the brim of the helmet. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
For the first time since this idiotic plan began, something like a challenge flickered across Gepard’s face.
“Good,” he said. “Try to keep up.”
As Gepard turned and strode off, Sampo fell into step beside him, pulse buzzing, heart racing. Belobog wasn’t boring anymore.
Patrolling with Gepard Landau was, Sampo decided within the first five minutes, much harder than running from him. Patrolling the Snow Fields was worse than hiding in them.
The Silvermane uniform was warmer than his usual attire, sure - but heavy with frost now, the metal fittings biting cold into his bones. Every step crunched loudly beneath his boots, impossible to disguise. There would be no clever maneuvering with the thick wool on his back.
Gepard walked ahead of him, halberd in hand, cloak snapping sharply in the wind. He moved like this terrain belonged to him, every shift of weight deliberate, eyes constantly sweeping the horizon.
Aeons above, it was attractive.
“This is a live patrol,” Gepard said without turning around. “Stay in formation. Watch for movement in the snowbanks.”
“Yes, sir,” Sampo replied, pitching his voice appropriately obedient - while quietly marvelling at how unfairly competent Gepard looked out here. This was Sampo’s territory, after all.
They stopped at a checkpoint marker: a frost-rimed pole half-buried in snow. Gepard raised a hand.
Sampo halted instantly.
Good. That was good. Too good, actually.
Gepard glanced back at him. “You adapted quickly.”
Sampo shrugged. “I learn fast.”
“Hm.”
They stood in silence for a moment, wind howling around them. Snow drifted across the ground in ghostly waves, obscuring depth and distance. Perfect conditions for ambush.
Gepard narrowed his eyes. “Do you see that?”
Sampo followed his gaze. At first - nothing. Just white. Then he spotted it: a subtle disturbance, snow shifting unnaturally against the wind.
“Movement,” Sampo said, before he could stop himself. “Low. Too steady to be weather.”
Gepard’s head snapped toward him.
“…Correct,” he said slowly. “How did you spot it so fast?”
Sampo smiled under his scarf. “I'm well trained?”
Gepard didn’t respond. He lifted his halberd, ice beginning to gather along its edge, posture instantly alert.
“Stay behind me,” Gepard ordered.
Sampo very deliberately did not argue - though his fingers twitched with the urge to do the opposite.
The snowbank erupted.
A Fragmentum creature lunged out, all jagged crystal and shrieking resonance. Gepard reacted instantly, stepping forward, shield up—
—and Sampo moved without thinking.
He shifted left, kicking snow into the creature’s face to throw off its angle, then grabbed Gepard’s arm and yanked him just far enough back that the creature’s claws missed by inches.
The world snapped still.
The creature screeched and fled back into the storm, deterred - for now.
Gepard stared at Sampo.
Sampo stared back.
“…Instinct,” Sampo offered weakly.
The wind howled between them.
“That manoeuvre,” Gepard said quietly, “was not Silvermane training.”
Sampo’s pulse hammered. He could feel it now—the shift. The way Gepard’s suspicion sharpened, no longer abstract, no longer casual.
“I just didn’t want you getting hurt, sir,” Sampo said, tone light, sincere in a way that surprised even him.
Gepard held his gaze for a long moment, before he turned back to the horizon.
“Stay close,” he said. “And don’t do that again without orders.”
Sampo grinned, unseen beneath his scarf.
“Yes, Captain.”
Out here, with nowhere to hide and danger on every side, Gepard couldn’t afford to stop watching the snow. Which meant he also couldn’t afford to stop watching Sampo.
And that, Sampo thought, was going to make this patrol very interesting.
The whiteout rolled in fast.
One moment the horizon was jagged crystal and distant shadow, the next it was nothing - snow whipping sideways in blinding sheets, the wind screaming loud enough to drown out thought. Gepard raised an arm instinctively, ice flaring along his shield to anchor himself against the gale.
“Formation!” he barked. “Back to back - now!”
Sampo didn’t hesitate.
He stepped in close, boots crunching until his spine pressed flush against Gepard’s. The contact was solid, grounding, and far too familiar for someone he was pretending not to know. Gepard stiffened just a fraction at the touch - then adjusted, settling into the stance like they’d done this a hundred times before.
Shapes moved in the storm. There were three - no, four.
Gepard’s halberd flashed, cleaving through the white as a Fragmentum beast lunged from the front. Ice exploded outward on impact, shards scattering across the snow.
Behind them, something shrieked.
Sampo twisted, already moving, dagger appearing in his hand as if by magic. He ducked under a swinging limb and drove the blade up into a crystalline joint, using the creature’s momentum to flip it over his shoulder and into the snow.
Gepard felt it.
Felt the shift in weight, the clean execution, the experience.
“That was not regulation equipment,” Gepard snapped, pivoting to shield Sampo as another creature barrelled in.
Sampo laughed breathlessly. “You should see my off-duty kit.”
They moved together now without speaking - Gepard striking high and wide, controlling space, Sampo slipping into the gaps, precise and ruthless. When Gepard’s shield caught a blow that rattled his arm, Sampo was there instantly, blade flashing to sever the attacker’s core.
Back to back. Seamless.
Too seamless.
Another creature lunged from the side. Gepard turned—
—and Sampo grabbed his belt and yanked him backward just as a jagged spike slammed into the space where his ribs had been.
Gepard spun, ice roaring to life as he froze the creature solid and shattered it with a single strike.
Silence fell, broken only by the wind.
They stood there for a moment, breathing hard, snow settling around them.
Slowly, Gepard lowered his weapon.
“…You fight like someone who’s done this before,” he said, voice dangerously calm.
Sampo sheathed his dagger, then realized too late that it was still very much visible.
“Oh,” he said lightly. “That.”
Gepard turned.
Really turned this time, eyes bright and sharp and knowing. He looked Sampo up and down, taking in the stance, the looseness, the way he wasn’t even winded.
“You’re not a recruit,” Gepard said. “You’re not a guard.”
Sampo met his gaze, green on blue, snow melting on his lashes, grin slow and unapologetic.
“…Going to arrest me, Captain?”
The wind howled again, snow closing in around them, the battlefield quiet - for now.
Gepard stepped closer, so close Sampo could see the tension in his jaw, the conflict burning behind his eyes.
“I should,” Gepard said.
He didn’t.
The snow swallowed the space between them.
Wind roared, close and loud enough that anything said had to be meant for the other person alone. Gepard’s cloak snapped violently behind him as he stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Start talking,” he said. “And don’t lie to me.”
Sampo tilted his head, studying him like this was a negotiation instead of a potential arrest. His grin softened - just a little.
“I was bored,” he said. “And you were gone.”
Gepard blinked.
“That,” he said flatly, “is not an explanation.”
Sampo shrugged, breath fogging the air between them. “It’s a motive.”
He reached up, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing the edge of his helmet as if considering removing it. Gepard’s gaze flicked there immediately, then snapped back to Sampo’s eyes, jaw tightening.
“You impersonated a Silvermane Guard,” Gepard said. “You infiltrated the front lines. You engaged Fragmentum creatures alongside me.”
“And you’re alive,” Sampo pointed out gently. “You’re welcome.”
Gepard exhaled sharply, frustration clear. “That’s not the point.”
Sampo stepped in closer again, back brushing Gepard’s shield, forcing him to hold ground or retreat.
He didn’t retreat.
“I know,” Sampo said, voice quieter now. “The point is I don’t belong here. The point is I break rules just by breathing.”
He smiled, crooked and familiar. “But I’d never let you get hurt.”
The words landed harder than Sampo expected.
For a moment, Gepard didn’t speak. His eyes searched Sampo’s face - not for deception this time, but for intent.
“You fight like someone protecting their own,” Gepard said slowly. “Not like a mercenary.”
Sampo’s grin wavered. “Careful, Captain. You’re flattering me.”
Another distant shriek echoed through the storm. Gepard’s grip tightened on his halberd, duty reasserting itself like a physical weight.
“I should detain you,” he said again. “Right now.”
Sampo leaned in, close enough that their foreheads nearly touched, voice a murmur lost to the wind.
“Then do it,” he said. “But you’ll be down one very competent ally in a very hostile snowfield.”
“…You’re infuriating,” Gepard muttered.
Sampo’s smile turned softer, warmer. “You missed me.”
Gepard stiffened. “That is not—”
The ground screamed.
Crystal surged up through the snow in jagged spines, the Fragmentum flaring violently to life as the storm churned around them. The air rang with that awful, resonant shriek - too close, too sudden.
“Contact!” Gepard barked, spinning on instinct, shield snapping up as the first creature tore free of the ice.
Sampo felt it immediately - the wrongness in the snow, the pressure shift. A fresh wave, closer and more aggressive than before.
“Gepard,” he said sharply.
Gepard didn’t move fast enough.
Not because he was slow - never that - but because for half a heartbeat, his eyes flicked back. To Sampo. To the fact that he was here, unarmoured in all the ways that mattered, standing on the front lines where Gepard had spent months making sure civilians didn’t stand.
The hesitation was tiny. It was almost enough to get him killed.
A Fragmentum beast lunged through the storm, claws raking toward Gepard’s side—
“GEP—” Sampo cut himself off with a curse and moved.
He slammed into Gepard’s shoulder, knocking him sideways as the claws tore through empty air. Ice shattered against the snow where Gepard had been standing, shards spraying outward.
“Focus!” Sampo snapped, already turning, blade flashing as he intercepted the next attacker.
Gepard staggered, caught himself, and then the battlefield snapped back into place. He raised his shield, ice roaring to life with renewed fury.
“I am focused,” Gepard growled - then, quieter, strained, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Too late,” Sampo shot back, ducking under a swing and driving his dagger home.
They fell into motion again, back to back without even thinking about it. Gepard struck with controlled power, freezing and shattering anything that got too close. Sampo darted through the chaos, fast and vicious, covering blind spots Gepard didn’t even have time to check.
But Gepard kept glancing back.
Every time Sampo moved too far. Every time a creature got too close to him. Every time Sampo laughed breathlessly, like this was a game instead of a killing field.
“Stop watching me!” Sampo called over his shoulder. “I can handle myself!”
“That is not the issue,” Gepard snapped, intercepting a blow meant for Sampo with a burst of ice that sent shockwaves through the snow. “If you get hurt—”
“What?” Sampo demanded, spinning, eyes bright. “You’ll arrest me harder?”
Gepard didn’t answer.
He slammed his halberd into the ground, ice exploding outward in a sweeping arc that cleared the field in a brutal, beautiful display. The remaining Fragmentum creatures shrieked and scattered, retreating back into the storm. Silence crashed down around them. Gepard stood there, chest heaving, knuckles white around his weapon.
“You distract me,” he said finally, voice low and raw.
Sampo turned slowly, grin sharp. “Good to know I still have that effect.”
Gepard looked at him - really looked - and whatever he saw there made his expression tighten, something unguarded slipping through.
“That,” he said, “is extremely dangerous.”
Sampo stepped closer, snow crunching softly between them, hand reaching out to touch Gepard.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “But you kept me alive.”
Their eyes met, Sampo’s hand meeting Gepard’s tense jaw, the storm raging on around them.
The crunch of boots cut through the quiet. Sampo’s hand pulled away like he’d been burned and Gepard’s head snapped up instantly, posture locking back into place as three figures emerged through the thinning snow - Silvermane Guards, cloaks dusted white, weapons at the ready. A patrol unit coming to back them up.
“Captain!” one of them called. “We saw the Fragmentum spike - are you injured?”
“I’m fine,” Gepard said immediately, voice back to crisp command. He took a step forward without thinking—
—and then stopped. Because Sampo was still close. Too close.
One of the guards’ eyes flicked between them. Another frowned, gaze lingering on Sampo’s dagger before snapping up to his face.
“…Sir,” the second guard said carefully, “we weren’t aware you’d brought a recruit to the front line.”
Sampo straightened, schooled himself into something resembling regulation posture, and offered a sharp salute. “Special assignment.”
The guards exchanged looks.
Gepard cleared his throat. “This guard was temporarily reassigned to my patrol.”
“By whose order?” the first asked.
Gepard’s jaw tightened. “Mine.”
The third guard tilted his head, studying Sampo openly now. “Huh. Funny. You don’t look like you came up through standard training.”
Sampo smiled politely. “I’m full of surprises.”
Gepard shot him a warning look that said do not make this worse.
Too late.
“Captain,” the first guard said slowly, lowering his weapon, “with respect - you seem… distracted.”
The word hung there, heavy.
Gepard stiffened. “Explain.”
“You checked your flank three times in the last minute,” the guard continued. “All on the same side.”
Sampo raised his brows, impressed. “Observant.”
Gepard did not look at him.
“That’s enough,” Gepard said sharply. “Return to your patrol routes. I’ll file the report.”
“Yes, sir,” the guards replied in unison, but not before one of them gave Sampo a long, curious look.
As they moved off, their voices carried faintly through the snow.
“Who was that?”
“No idea.”
“Captain usually doesn’t—”
“Shut up.”
Silence returned. Gepard exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping just a fraction. Then he rounded on Sampo, voice low and urgent.
“You cannot do that,” he hissed. “You cannot draw attention like that.”
Sampo leaned in, grin crooked but eyes warm. “You’re the one who assigned me to your patrol, Captain.”
Gepard froze.
“…You’re enjoying this,” he said.
Sampo’s smile softened. “Maybe a little.”
Gepard closed his eyes for half a second,composed himself, then opened them again, resolute.
“This patrol ends soon,” he said. “When it does, you’re coming with me.”
Sampo gave a mock salute. “Lead the way.”
Gepard turned back toward the snowfields, but this time, he didn’t put distance between them.
The barracks were bustling at their usual levels. Snow steamed off armour as guards filtered in, voices low, boots echoing against stone. Gepard didn’t say a word as he led Sampo down an alleyway to his makeshift Captain’s office, one hand still tight around his halberd, knuckles pale. He didn’t look back.
Sampo followed cheerfully.
“Wow,” he said, glancing around. “You know, I’ve broken into this place at least three times, but I’ve never been escorted so personally. I feel special.”
“Be silent,” Gepard snapped.
Sampo hummed instead.
They reached the office, and Gepard shoved the door open and ushered Sampo inside, then shut it firmly behind them. The latch clicked.
Warmth hit immediately, the geomarrow heater casting the room in a dim orange glow. Gepard turned on him, eyes blazing.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Impersonating a guard - on the front lines - do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
Sampo shrugged out of his helmet and set it on the table, utterly unconcerned. “You noticed me. Mission accomplished.”
“That is not—” Gepard stopped himself, dragging a hand through his hair. “You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t,” Sampo said lightly. “And neither were you.”
Gepard took a step closer. “That’s not because of you.”
Sampo stepped forward too, closing the gap deliberately. “You hesitated.”
Silence snapped tight between them.
“You looked back,” Sampo continued, curiosity and amusement filtering into his voice. “Just for a moment.”
Gepard’s jaw clenched. “Because you shouldn’t have been there.”
“And yet,” Sampo said, tilting his head, eyes bright, “you let me stay.”
Gepard’s breath hitched - barely - but Sampo caught it.
“You didn’t arrest me on the spot,” Sampo pressed. “Didn’t even yell at me in front of the others.”
“That was strategic,” Gepard said stiffly.
“Uh-huh.” Sampo leaned back against the table, arms braced behind him, entirely too relaxed. “And dragging me somewhere private? Also strategic?”
Gepard stopped an arm’s length away.
“Stop doing that,” Gepard said.
“Doing what?”
“Standing like that. Talking like that. Acting like this is a joke.”
Sampo’s grin turned sharp around the edges. “It’s not a joke. It’s you.”
Gepard stared at him, conflict written all over his face - duty, frustration, something warmer he very clearly did not want to name.
“You make me careless,” Gepard said quietly. “Out there, I couldn’t stop watching you.”
Sampo straightened a little, just enough to meet him properly. “Funny. I was doing the same.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air felt charged, humming with everything they hadn’t said on the snowfields.
“You’re a nuisance,” Gepard said.
Sampo smiled, delighted. “You love it.”
Gepard exhaled, slow and steady, then reached out - not to grab, not to restrain, but to adjust the insignia on Sampo’s chest. Fingers lingered a second too long.
“Do not ever put me in that position again,” Gepard said.
Sampo’s voice dropped. “Can’t promise that.”
Gepard’s eyes darkened. “Koski.”
Sampo leaned in just enough to be dangerous. “Yes, Captain?”
“This stops,” he said, voice firm, rehearsed - his Captain Landau voice. “You will not impersonate a guard again. You will not interfere with patrols. And you will not put yourself in danger.”
Sampo tilted his head. “That’s three rules.”
“Yes.”
“And what happens if I break them?”
Gepard hesitated for half a second too long.
“…You will answer to me.”
Sampo’s grin widened, slow and wicked. “Oh, Captain, you really should hear yourself.”
“That is not—” Gepard stopped, eyes flicking down as Sampo fiddled with one of the tassels on Gepard’s uniform coat. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Sampo asked, feigning innocence as he closed the distance until there was barely space to breathe.
“Testing me.”
“You're fun to test.”
Gepard’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You think this is amusing.”
“I think,” Sampo said softly, “that you don’t actually want me to stop.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Gepard’s hand shot out - not gentle, but not rough either - and gripped the front of Sampo’s purloined uniform, holding him there. Sampo went still, eyes flicking down to Gepard’s hand, then back up.
“Be quiet,” Gepard said, breath uneven. “You don’t get to—”
Sampo leaned in the rest of the way.
Not a kiss - not yet - but close enough that their noses brushed, close enough that Gepard could feel the warmth of him after hours in the snow.
“You broke your own rules first,” Sampo murmured. “You let me stay.”
Gepard’s grip tightened.
“For today,” he said. “Because I had to.”
“Mm,” Sampo hummed. “And the part where you couldn’t stop looking for me?”
Silence. Thick. Dangerous.
Gepard’s resolve cracked.
He leaned in and kissed Sampo. It was brief and controlled, a mistake made with intention.
He pulled back immediately, horror and heat warring in his eyes. “This cannot—”
Sampo kissed him back before he could finish, lighter, teasing, utterly pleased. “Too late.”
Gepard groaned softly, forehead dropping to Sampo’s for just a second. “I am setting boundaries.”
Sampo smiled, radiant. “You’re terrible at it.” His arms snaked around Gepard’s neck.
“I mean it,” Gepard said. “This doesn’t leave this room.”
Sampo nodded solemnly. “I swear on all the Aeons.”
“I will still arrest you if you break the law.”
Sampo kissed the corner of his mouth, quick and infuriating. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Gepard exhaled, defeated, fond, absolutely doomed.
“…Get out of the uniform,” he muttered. “Before someone sees. And go back to the city.” He finally found the strength to break the hold they had on each other and step back.
Sampo stood in mock Guard stance and saluted lazily. “As you wish, Captain.”
With a few strides he left the room, determined to maintain his composure until no one would see him fall into a fit of giggles, the door shutting behind him.