Work Text:
His plan has worked.
Nikolai couldn’t believe his luck. He’d be grinning from ear to ear if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied exploring Fyodor’s. Yes. Finally, he finally had Fyodor right where he wanted him – compliant, flustered and yearning within his arms. Albeit, cheeks being crimsoned might not necessarily all be due to arousal but that theory worked more in Nikolai’s favor. Alas, taste and reek of alcohol was so prevalent he could get drunk by sucking on Fyodor’s tongue alone. Which is exactly what Nikolai did. Fyodor’s whimpers and shivers intoxicated him more than any liquor could ever aspire for.
For months they’ve been dancing around one another; tiptoeing around tangible tension lingering between them, treating it like silent topic despite irrefutable magnetic attraction. Psychologically and intellectually they fit like two pieces of same puzzle – Nikolai’s theory was that that extended to physicality as well. Nikolai lost counts how many times he debated with himself whether to let go of all cautions and restrains, grip Fyodor by waist, slam him against the wall, drowse all protests with his lips and ravish in amendment for every second of sexual frustration he had to endure. If Fyodor’s enigmatic ability ends up killing him so be it, at least he’d die happily, but also horny and unsatisfied. Biology was never his strongest suit so Nikolai wasn’t sure if erection would go down if he dies or haunt him into afterlife. On other hand, having open casket funeral with his body still pitching a tent would make a priceless scene - his magnum opus. Greatest artists and performers reach peak of fame only after death, that’d be how he’d gain recognition he deserves. Or at very least make Sigma faint during his funeral.
Anyways, while Fyodor spent sleepless nights scheming relentlessly how to get into Yokohama unnoticed Nikolai spent them scheming how to get into his pants, also unnoticed; what to say, everyone has ax to grind. As time went on opportunities lessened, his chances of teaching infamous demon Dostoevsky sensuality of sexual pleasure grew slimmer – of course desperation kicked in. When they make it to Japan there will be even less viable options, Fyodor would be on constant guard and preoccupied with his not so sexy schemes; really, he’d not rather spend hours railing Fyodor against the wall only for him to spend half of that time speculating ways how to defeat Dazai.
Therefore Nikolai decided to strike now, few days before the departure – only question left was how. He’s been at conundrum for days; ruminated like never before. Bewildered how to possibly make Fyodor realize some mind-blowing sex could be beneficial to reduction of his stress level. How to make him lower guard, how to get him alone, how to make him whimper, arch back and grip sheets.
Then he received message from above – Fyodor sent him a message to come over tonight because he’ll be alone. Nikolai was in grocery store when his phone beeped and he read the life-altering message - to his left were condoms with witty labels on sale, to his right homemade Medovukha; although a bit overpriced but cheep condoms made up for that. Holy trinity, sign sent from heaven urging him to proceed with sinful plans – tonight he will show Fyodor his magical tricks extend to bedroom too. It’s now or never.
Never mind Fyodor demanded he comes over so they can go over schemes once more, never mind he wanted him there alone for purpose of secrecy of those plans, never mind meeting was set late at night for sake of keeping low profile - Nikolai’s stimulated mind was willing to do serious acrobatics and discard all logic and reasons in favor of carnality. Fyodor called him over so he can show him acrobatics in bedroom, for Netflix and Chill (no way Fyodor even knows what that means); never mind it’ll turn into Debate and Scheme, Nikolai will shoot his shot. Nothing alcohol, coy seduction and risible looking condoms wouldn’t solve. Nikolai had a hunch Fyodor would find last one amusing in drunken state of mind, additional seduction points.
Not only that but he also had a hunch Fyodor can’t hold his drink. Most Nikolai has ever seen him with were few glasses of wine, but even that he’s been nursing for hours; more symbol of refinement than indulgence. Anemic man with knack for overworking himself, skipping meals and sleep so he can sit hours in front of computer, type some sinister codes and sip nothing but tea and coffee – like hell Fyodor can hold a real drink. Nikolai was certain mere scent of something strong will make him dizzy, tipsy and easier to coax into perversity. Thus Nikolai fetched good old bottle of Smirnoff for sake of mixing and making sure Fyodor can’t stand properly as little as fifteen minutes in; then another for good measure. He stashed bottles into overcoat along with Medovukha and pack of condoms, then walked out of store and headed towards Fyodor’s lair with smuggest grin ever.
For the first time in his life Nikolai sincerely prayed – prayed to heaven above that Holy message wasn’t a hoax and that he’ll get laid.
And from the Holy message has been – Nikolai couldn’t believe how splendidly night played out. Fyodor was swiftly done with outlaying his plans (mostly because Nikolai just nodded like everything was crystal clear when in reality nothing was), Nikolai pretended he followed attentively, like chanter ‘me you bed now’ wasn’t playing on repeat inside his stirred up mind. Thankfully Fyodor either didn’t comprehend perversity roaming beneath the surface or at very least didn’t comment on it. Coy tease, Nikolai knew what those subtle glances and smirks were all about – he was being provoked into instigating.
How to refuse? In a heartbeat Nikolai brought drinks out and to his surprise Fyodor didn’t shoot down the offer; quite the contrary, accepted right away, even mentioned how he preferred more syrupy liquor. Two shots in and Fyodor’s cheeks gained pinkish hue. Three in and his speech was slurring. Five and Nikolai’s flirtations wasn’t met with dismissive head shakes but modest smiles and glint in eyes. Add another more and his hand was free to roam over Fyodor’s thigh without being swatted away. Bingo. Nikolai religiously refilled Fyodor’s glass. He’d be lying if he claimed seeing Fyodor drunk and oddly vulnerable didn’t do things to his libido.
Half of bottle of vodka and entire Medovukha down and they were on topic of hedonistic pleasure. Fyodor was waxing poetic about all sorts of hedonism and crassness of foolish human nature; trust brainier to think even with five promiles in blood. To be fair, maybe Fyodor’s philosophical religious rants didn’t actually make any sense for once but Nikolai was far cry from coherent state of mind to tell; was more allured by Fyodor’s voice, fantasized how erotic it’ll sound moaning his name. Only type of hedonistic pleasure that Nikolai’s tipsy horny could think of was sex – very long and passionate one where he stripes Fyodor of not only clothes but dignity as well. So he asked Fyodor what probably no one sane or sober dared before: if he’s a virgin. If Fyodor wasn’t wasted he’d have either told him to get out or straight-out pretended he heard nothing. Alas, alcohol can make Bible level miracles reality, thus Fyodor tipped head to side and frivolously murmured if that’s a problem.
A problem? Far cry from that, it would have been a problem if it was the opposite! Music to Nikolai’s ears, further stimulation to his groin. Opportunity was served on silver plate, he’d be a fool to not take it. He implied how as a magician it’s his duty to make things disappear – including Fyodor’s virginity. Innuendo wasn’t met with a scorn but coy smile, what further invitation did he need to lean in and scoop a kiss. He wasn’t shoved away, instead yanked forwards by braid into deepening the contact.
Lots of kisses and gropes later they’ve finally found their way to Fyodor’s bedroom. It was just one room away but Fyodor could barely stand on his feet without wobbling; not that he’d have any easier time walking by the morning after Nikolai shows him bed ain’t just for sleeping. Nikolai couldn’t help giggling into kisses, drunk on both feeling and liter of alcohol in veins. He held back of Fyodor’s head and laced fingers through his hair; with other stroked thighs and even sporadically felt bold enough to grope his ass. Fyodor didn’t protest, so frequency of gropes increased to the point where his palm didn’t budge an inch from Fyodor’s backside. If Nikolai has things his way much more than his hand will be going there.
Fyodor turned out to be uncharacteristically frisky when drunk – purposely moaned and whimpered to turn him on, yielded into kisses and allowed him to take the lead, but still feistily tugged at his clothes, rubbed foot over shin and played with braid. Nikolai reveled in proof of desire being reciprocated, softly hummed and purred into kisses. He shoved thigh between Fyodor’s legs and rubbed to spur on further; grunts and whimpered melted into his lips right away, Nikolai seized the chance to slide tongue pass Fyodor’s lips. Oh how sweet everything was, how warm Fyodor felt against him for once – again, booze was likely to blame but Nikolai liked to believe it was all due to how ardently Fyodor desired him. Thus he got giddily on that feeling too, feverishly kissed and grinned like a helpless fool. If he had a tail Nikolai was certain it’d be wagging so rapidly he’d be able to fly out of happiness.
From corner of eye Nikolai spied sheets he was to lay Fyodor over. Spotless white, pristine but boring – practically begging for some decoration. Ah right, of course! This is Fyodor’s first time, it has to be romantic. Nikolai reluctantly let go of Fyodor’s hair (because God forbid he does of ass) and reached for his overcoat; rummaged for second or two and… yep, there it was. In a flash Nikolai swung coat around and tossed impressive amount of sakura petals over sheets and carefully lowered Fyodor over them.
Kiss ended same second Fyodor sensed there’s something beneath his frame. Lewd pop echoed around the room, just as enticing sound of their harsh breath followed. Saliva tangled between their lips, Fyodor’s hair was completely tousled, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy - not for a second could Nikolai look away from erotic sight below him. Thousand times before he fantasized about Fyodor gazing at him with such yearning in eyes but all those paled in comparison to reality. Fuck did Fyodor look insanely hot. Nikolai’s breath hitched in throat, brain short-circuited, he simply froze – okay, not all of him froze, souther parts actively informed of their liking. Very fervid throbbing liking.
Fyodor raked fingers through sheets, then glanced to left once he realized he clutched handful of sakura petals. Fervid gaze was no more, one of disbelief settled in. Fyodor glanced back at him and sighed, exhausted expression virtually spelling ‘why do I even put up with you’; endearing. Nikolai wasted no time climbing on all fours over Fyodor and teasing him further.
“Don’t look at me like that Dos-kun~”, he chirped like Fyodor was addressing him with prurient gaze and not death stare. Oh well, not like latter wouldn’t turn him on; in his current state Fyodor could threaten to kill him and Nikolai would still consider that foreplay. “You’ll tempt me into taking you right ahead”, hushed Nikolai into his neck before placing a kiss; then another one, and another.
Despite Fyodor’s slight change in mood he still responded into touch; whimpered, encircled arms around his back and laced fingers through hair. Good, despite minor setback Fyodor still wants him. Nikolai smirked and traced pecks down Fyodor’s collarbone; then reached for shirt and oh so slowly unfastened button one by one.
Bit by bit gasps of pleasure turned into irked grunts, bit by bit writhing turned into squirming. Fyodor tried to grind against him but Nikolai firmly held him down as he laid kisses down his chest.
Apparently alcohol crumbled all of Fyodor’s iron self-restrain as frustration became tad bit too much for him to endure. He tried to hurry him up by tugging at his hair and wiggling around but Nikolai didn’t plan on following – once in a lifetime opportunity, of course he wanted to savior every second of it, even at expense of additional sexual frustration.
“But I want to take it slow~”, Nikolai glanced up and whined theatrically. He really did, wanted to make love instead of just fuck. But issue here was Fyodor’s impatience induced by loosened inhibitions; of course, nothing to do with alcohol. Albeit, precisely those loosened inhibitions made this opportunity so salacious, he could tease Fyodor to heaven and back and relish in how badly his sensitive body is losing it. Thence Nikolai had additional incentive to jest around – dire hope Fyodor will snap, discard all pride and principles, gaze up at him with yearning lustful half-lidded eyes and beg to hurry.
Gradually Nikolai slid further down Fyodor’s body. Yet just as he reached hem of trousers lighting bulb clicked above Nikolai’s head – sexual frustration superbly crowned Fyodor’s features, just how more erotic would he look if driven to point of desperation? “It’s your first time, let me show you magic!”, instead of unfastening the belt and finally giving them both what they crave Nikolai propped up on elbows and beamed innocently like he wasn’t about to introduce self-proclaimed God to concept of cardinal sin.
Fyodor glared daggers but with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes he looked more enticing and intimidating. Then he just sighed, threw head back onto pillow and demanded in already way too exhausted tone - “Drop the theatricality and just fuck me already”
Oh if that wasn’t symphony to his ears; and aphrodisiac to his libido too. Not in million years could Nikolai picture such vulgarities leaving Fyodor’s lips; embodiment of sophistication and grace, yet look at him now, reduced to desirous pleading mess. Although pleading just indirectly via eyes, Nikolai was determined to hear those sultry begs actually slip from Fyodor’s lips in between moans and gasps.
“Such vulgarity, I must say I didn’t expect that from you. Where did the romance go Fedya my dearest?”, Nikolai teased, leaned over Fyodor and glided knuckles over his cheek; skin so hot to touch for once, again he was hundred percent certain it all had to do with desire and none with booze.
“Same place your subtlety did when you showed up with those drinks”, deadpanned Fyodor and swatted his hand away.
His sense of ordination was distorted so one of Fyodor’s hands ended up gliding over sakura petals - other ended right over Nikolai’s groin. Accident it may have been for first three seconds but as Fyodor didn’t remove his hand (not to mention squeezed him quite tightly, oh how blissful slightest friction felt) Nikolai, much to his immense dismay, had no option but to treat touch as deliberate. He expressed his rue by grinning from ear to ear and showing Fyodor just how eager he is.
“I’ll make it feel so magical you’d believe you’re in shoujo manga”, Nikolai leered and thrust into Fyodor’s hand to mark the point how he’ll achieve that.
In order to learn Japanese in record time Fyodor resorted to reading Japanese literature, which, accidentally or not, involved few manags; ones with sakura petals, characters with eyes half of their entire faces and lots of sparkles. He once caught Sigma reading those and had a field day; if he ever catches Fyodor with something so cutesy he’d have a field week. Anyways, somehow Nikolai had much more flair for learning new languages than Fyodor did. Thus he burned candles at both end polishing his Japanese skills, all in dire hope Fyodor will be needing some late night classes which would go from Fyodor learning how to wrap tongue around Japanese tongue twisters to learning how to wrap tongue around his. Regretfully he failed to take Fyodor’s ego and vanity into consideration, he’d rather lose even more sleep than, God forbid, ever ask for help.
“Kami-sama, korosu…”, Fyodor put his marvelous Japanese skills to use, as well as thick accent. Cute. Nikolai couldn’t help chuckling; that earned him another glare; also cute.
“...меня”, then dejectedly switched back to Russian once his intoxicated brain comprehended one to one languages translation ain’t a thing. Trust only phrase he could pronounce perfectly is word for God. Nikolai had a sneaking suspicion that was the very first Japanese word he learned, forget yes, no or hello.
“Oh Fedya, you’re mixing languages again”, Nikolai hushed near Fyodor’s lips, fully expected to be shoved away. But he was not, instead Fyodor stepped over pride and pulled him closer; oh the wonders of Medovukha, from this night on it’ll be his favorite drink ever.
“But worry not, by the time show reaches spectacular climax only tongue you’ll know will be mine~”, Nikolai dropped another innuendo and sealed lips over Fyodor’s; didn’t even wait for him to respond, just feverishly kissed like it might be his last – with Fyodor you never know when something might be the very last.
Fyodor grunted into the contact, then melted and purred like he’s been waiting for this all his life. Perhaps he was deep down, or so Nikolai preferred to think. Either way that didn’t really matter as Fyodor was grinding against him and gripping at his clothes with such restlessness his movements couldn’t indicate anything but desperation. For his first time Fyodor sure was frisky and demanding, just the way Nikolai liked; he rewarded that docility by traveling hand down between their bodies and cupping Fyodor through trousers. Reaction was immediate. Whimper was dulled into the kiss but there was no mistaking how Fyodor’s breath hitched in throat and pupils dilated. For couple of seconds he resisted the temptation but once Nikolai began stroking him he couldn’t help thrusting and arching into friction. Sadistic appetite whetted, he couldn’t help denying Fyodor his cravings solely for sake of rendering him even more desperate.
Thus kiss went on and on. Nikolai wondered if he really should cut it short, he himself was getting rather impatient; pants too tight, fire within veins too scorching. At this rate dawn will arrive and they’d still be at foreplay of round one. Urgency too impending, need was getting to him; despite himself Nikolai bit into Fyodor’s lower lip and roughly grinded into his thigh, utterly unable to keep himself in check any longer.
That roughness finally brought contact to belated end. Fyodor indicated need for air so Nikolai pulled away. Ragged breath, palpable lust in eyes, drool all over abused reddened lips – oh if sight of Fyodor so disheveled and yearning beneath him didn’t make Nikolai’s pants tighten even more. Hopefully those would come off soon, preferably with some smooth magical trick.
Apparently Fyodor sensed just that as he lounged on elbows, narrowed eyes and prompted - “What’s that poking my tight?”
“My big wand~”
“Crude”, Fyodor shook head and sighed in disbelief.
Adorable how predictable Fyodor was in bed. Nikolai grinned ear from ear, more than eager to show all sorts of magical bedroom skills. “Maybe it’s your mind that’s in the gutter, not mine~”, he chirped and sat up just enough to ease out the wand he always carried with him.
Initially Fyodor squinted, thanks to intoxication was unable to discern what he held in hand right away. Once realization bolted down on him ardency in Fyodor’s eyes was no more, ire overshadowed it. Alas, Nikolai brushed all frustrations off on sexual pleasure being held at bay, thus opted for teasing Fyodor further. What could possibly go wrong with bit of denial and magic in bed? He was certainly giddily enough to pull it off marvelously right now.
“See? I wasn’t lying~”, jested Nikolai and lowered wand into Fyodor’s hand; part of him dreaded Fyodor won’t swat him over head with it given death glare he was addressed with. Howbeit all Nikolai’s brain-cells died the very second horniness settled inside system so instead of toning down with teasing he doubled down on it. “Now tap my hat three times with the wand”, he insisted and bent just enough for wand to reach top of his head.
After few very tension loaded seconds Fyodor wearily sighed and reluctantly gave in. Per instructed he tapped his hat three time, just so swiftly it was obvious Fyodor just wanted to be done with it. Much to his dismay Nikolai had other plans in store. He smirked like he swallowed a canary, reached for his hat and took it off only to reveal stashed condom inside.
“That’s one of my favorite magic tricks~”, Nikolai boasted and twirled condom between fingers like it was a toy. Then hummed and let Fyodor actually read label on package; it read ‘for my next trick I’ll need a condom and a volunteer’, perfect little pun.
Nikolai ignored how in span of few seconds Fyodor’s face went from crimson to pale as death; attributed shift to awe over his skills. Wait, then it went red again; promising. Fyodor must be enticed by his suaveness; guaranteeing. Nikolai licked his lips and pressed further.
“Now I will proceed to put condom on without taking off my pa-”
“Get out”, Fyodor cut in, voice cold as ice.
It took Nikolai’s stirred up senses few seconds to register the meaning. If he thought tone was cold then it was nothing compared to death stare Fyodor sent him. Alas, alcohol's intoxicating effects did their thing, instead of being frightened Nikolai was aroused. Hence he really hoped Fyodor didn’t really mean what he just said. Maybe hearing failed him – yep, had to be it.
“What?”
“I said get out”
Alas, apparently he did mean it.
That response didn’t fare well for Nikolai’s libido and months and months of scheming. Of course he had to reason with Fyodor. “I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding”, he raised palms in most nonthreatening way possible and smiled just as innocently, internally pleading to all saints in heaven above for Fyodor to change his mind.
Alas, he did not.
“I was a clown myself to think you won’t clown in bed too”, Fyodor retorted and sat up, implicitly brought all sports in bedroom to premature end. He grasped panels of unfastened shirt and brought them together, successfully hiding pale unmarked skin on chest; and by all likelihood it’ll remain unmarked, one of Nikolai’s top regrets. Very condoms he counted on lighting Fyodor’s fire turned out to be his downfall, Nikolai couldn’t believe this is when his luck decided to run out.
“What’s the next trick? Pink bow around dick?”
Close. It was purple instead. Nikolai supposed that’s Fyodor’s favorite color, thus that he might even take the bow off with mouth and then enjoy the present. Mere thought of that wet dream along with how close he was to making it reality made Nikolai’s dick twitch; and then throb, given bow wrapped around base. He needs to make that dream reality, it was matter of life or death, horniness overload will be end of him.
“But don’t you want to see my big wand?”, Nikolai pouted, put his performer skills to good use and faked the most woeful pathetic pleading look ever. Fyodor had a weak spot for cute little animals, Nikolai was playing on card of utilizing just that.
Alas, it failed.
“Not anymore, not after you killed the mood so spectacularly”, Fyodor threw innuendo back at his face. “Neither of them”, then corrected when he noticed Nikolai was about to pull out another wand. For a heartbeat Nikolai was tempted to pull out other type of wand in last ditch of persuading Fyodor he has no idea what he’ll be missing out on but he wasn’t drunk enough to pull his dick out when Fyodor was this pissed off; what if he’s not impressed by girth or length and decides to use real wand for not so delightful things? How come Fyodor was utterly wasted mere seconds before and now acted so sober? Was it cliché magical tricks that sobered him up? Nikolai preferred not to think of own tricks as tacky.
Options wore thinner second by second – second by second look in Fyodor’s eyes darkened; no, not out of lust for sensuality but for blood. Nikolai gulped and went with first thing that came to mind.
“Fedya my dear~”, he purred endearments with incredible amount of softness in tone and expression, last ditch attempt to melt ice in Fyodor’s eyes.
Alas, ice persisted.
“Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, you have five seconds to get out”, Fyodor uttered his full name in tone colder than the freezing temperature outside; then pointed towards said freezing outside. Countless times before Nikolai fantasized half naked Fyodor hushing his name within privacy of four walls – now he came to know true meaning of phrase be careful what you wish for.
Nikolai faked another pout – okay, didn’t even fake, desperation was real. Last thing he needed was returning home in middle of stormy freezing night while pitching a tent. He clasped palms in praying gesture, made a puppy face, spreed legs to indicate just how eager he was and sincerely hoped Fyodor will have understanding and show some mercy.
Alas, pipe dream.
Demon title wasn’t just for show. “Better don’t make me count”
“But Fe-”
“One”
Fuck. He fucked up big time.
- - - - - -
Rare were nights when Sigma managed to get some real rest. Once in blue moon did all piled up ruminations and stresses leave mind enough for him to get blink of a sleep. However that happened last night and he was immensely gratefully; also couldn’t help speculating if something peculiar happened for him to be rewarded like that. Maybe it did and he was to figure out as day progresses. Nonetheless Sigma didn’t have much time to revel in his, for once, good mood – meeting with rest of Decay of Angels was his first thing in the morning.
Talk about party pooper; but what can be done. Sigma opened door to the meeting room and stepped inside. He didn’t even have time to properly scrutinize what was going on before thickness of tension knocked him off the feet.
Damn. Apparently fate prohibited him from having more than half an hour of good mood at once.
Sigma’s eyes immediately fell onto Fyodor, who sat facing the door. Their eyes met but save for quick nod, Fyodor barely registered him; odd. White outfit, ushanka and dark coat over shoulders, he didn’t look any different from usual – but there was something different today. And no, not just three cups of water in front of him. Eye bags more accented, eyes a bit swollen and heavier than usual, fatigue more spelled out, tension palpable in frame – maybe he pulled an all nighter to get something done? Plausible explanation but didn’t hold the water, Sigma wasn’t entirely convinced. There was undeniable aura of frustration and exhaustion around him, although Sigma couldn’t pinpoint what precisely and what’s the cause; sixth sense nagged that’s for the best.
But that didn’t explain the tension, or who other person in the room was. Their back was turned towards the door so Sigma couldn’t tell by facial features. Long pale hair neatly tied in side tail, black bow at the end, formal black button-up with matching suit jacket, white trousers and dark elegant lace-up boots – whoever it was Sigma had to admit they had knack for fashion, classy North European style. And of course it was pale hair again. By the time Fukuchi, Bram and Nikolai arrive there will be five people with same hair-color in the room, four with long hair to the boot. Only as many white haired individuals could be a coincidence. Sometimes Sigma questioned more things about Fyodor than he should for sake of own sanity.
“I didn’t realize we have a new member”, Sigma murmured and glanced Fyodor’s way, reckoning asking that much couldn’t hurt.
“We don’t Sigma-kun”, Fyodor explained and took sip of water.
The very same second Fyodor negated mysterious person turned towards him. Sigma blinked. Sigma stared. Sigma gaped. Mind processed the information but it took him couple of seconds to truly comprehend what he was seeing.
It was Nikolai!
Talk about full make-over, talk about versatility of an actor, talk about time wasted on getting ready in the morning. No hints of clownish makeup, accessories or aura of joviality - instead Nikolai carried himself with uncharacteristic grace, elegance and… dare he says seriousness? Last word he’d use to describe Nikolai but at the moment it suited him like a glove. Damn, if Sigma passed by him on the street he wouldn’t have recognized him!
Sigma expected Nikolai to jest per usual and tease how he had him fooled, but none of that happened. Instead all Nikolai did was flash him a quick grin before fixating stare right at Fyodor once more, like his life depended on it. Weird. Definitely weird. Too weird. Nikolai never skipped a chance to make him butt of jokes but now he was preoccupied with staring at Fyodor; probably played some mental chess game ordinary person like Sigma could never grasp. For once he was immensely glide for that ordinariness, he’d rather not know.
But still there were some things he couldn’t help speculating. Like just how much time did they spend glaring at one another in utter tension-loaded silence?! Sigma couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Unbelievable.
Initial assumption was that Nikolai was in one of his jester moods, playing another role. But Sigma wasn’t so sure. What could role of a noble upper class man with impeccable style, supposed solely for Fyodor’s eyes, possibly be for? Did Fyodor decide he’d rather not have jester at his court anymore? Maybe, Sigma couldn’t possibly know. Head-scratcher for certain. Still, there was undeniable aura of frustration around Nikolai too, very similar to one around around Fyodor but not identical. Alright, Fyodor had thousand and one schemes to take care of, meaning stress and frustration were inevitable. But, for love of God, Sigma couldn’t fathom what could have possibly stressed Nikolai out of all people so much. And not even just that – but both at same time!
There was no other – something must have happened.
“Did…”, Sigma began falteringly, eyes wandering from Fyodor to Nikolai back and forth. He gulped audibly but, as neither even spared him a glance, pushed on. “… something happen?”, warily Sigma finished the question and regretted it immediately. No, not due to repercussions or dread, but because he realized he actually didn’t want to know.
Silence dropped. If it wasn’t minus twenty outside Sigma would have opened all windows in the room to ventilate a bit. Tension in air was unbearable, at this rate he’ll choke on it. How Fyodor and Nikolai didn’t appeared bothered by density of said tension, Sigma hadn’t faintest clue; were probably used to it.
“No”, Fyodor broke the silence and Sigma never would have guessed infamous demon Dostoevsky had it in him to lie that transparently.
That captured Nikolai’s attention too. He audibly cleaned his throat, grinned and then chuckled. “No, nothing happened”, Nikolai affirmed Fyodor’s claim but jab wasn’t even thinly veiled but out in the open. Sigma had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t aimed at him.
Something has so happened.
There was no other explanation why Fyodor and Nikolai were plotting each other’s slow demises rather than one of their actual enemies; or at least Fyodor irrefutably was, Sigma wasn't trusting own judgment of Nikolai’s behavior and motives. Or maybe issue was that, as Nikolai eloquently put it, nothing has happened. Meaning something was supposed to happen but then it didn’t but it should have had and…
Ah, there goes the good mood. Now he has a headache.
Sigma sighed from bottom of his soul. Without uttering a thing more he circled around the table and seated himself furthest from both Nikolai and Fyodor – who were currently too busy sinisterly glaring at one another and smirking. Good, the less attention either of them pay to him the better; the sooner will headache pass. It was only then that he noticed bottle of alcohol in very center of the table – Medovukha judging by bright orange color and what little he could discern of label from distance. Hmm, curious. Peculiar even, simple bottle of alcohol yet it almost taunted in the moment; heaven knows purplish bow wrapped around neck did.
There had to be more to the story, Sigma concluded. Still, instinct told him maybe there are some things he’s better off not knowing.