#ch: sampo koski

[shoezuki]

Doctor, the problem's in my chest

Chapter 14

Today, Sampo is quiet from the beginning. Gepard doesn't think to question it as he closes the door behind him, says his hello and gets a nodded response. "Natasha gave me tea," Gepard says, awkwardly holding the steaming mug while carefully balancing on his crutch. "Only the one. I don't think I could carry two down the stairs without tripping. Do you want it?"

Sampo blinks, just looking at him for a moment. Gepard ambles to his usual place, letting his crutch fall into the corner behind his chair. He doesn't sit down, holding the warm mug in both hands, taking a second to shuffle his feet and find his balance on his two uneven legs before looking at Sampo. He's already staring at him, or maybe he never stopped. There's something Gepard can't quite place in his eyes.

"It's chamomile," Gepard mumbles out, "I think." There's another moment of them staring at each other before Sampo shakes his head with a hum. "No thanks, I'm good."

Gepard doesn't think to press the matter or to question how quiet Sampo is, just shrugging his shoulders. His wound is doing much better, but it still aches in protest the longer he stands and walks around. He can't help but let out a groan, sighing in relief as he sits down, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his bad leg out under the bed. He enjoys the silence after having spent most of the night before tossing and turning. He blows at the tea before taking a sip, careful not to burn his tongue.

"So," Sampo says casually, "when are you going to arrest me?"

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[shoezuki]

Doctor, the problem's in my chest

Chapter 6

Sampo breaks his promise as soon as Gepard falls asleep.

Gepard had been drained and fatigued, his panic attack and the threat of the fragmentum monster having exhausted him. Sampo usually would’ve protested and insisted Gepard eat something when he tries to say he’s not hungry, but that time Gepard had seemed so small, worn, a bleary shadow of himself. It was unnecessary, Gepard able to get around by himself well enough, but at the slightest wince Sampo rushed to Gepard and helped him into the bedroom, tucking Gepard in like a child despite his flustered protests.

He’d stood in the wide open doorway as Gepard sank into the mattress, the comforter thrown over him messily. He’d fallen asleep practically as soon as he’d settled in, the awkward way he’d shuffled his injured leg and the uncomfortable twist of his expression melting away in the blink of an eye. Sampo still watched him, the soft rise and fall of his breathing under the blankets and how he’d curled in on himself in his sleep. His blood was unsettled, something still anxious and frantic humming in his bones, but he had to forcibly peel himself off the doorframe and look away.

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