BouncyPickle

The next thing he knows, Nikto is back on base, standing outside Sebastian's room. His fist is raised to knock but he's frozen there. Nikto blinks back into focus with force.

Growling in frustration, he clenches the fingers of his raised fist until his nails cut into his palm.

Why the fuck is he here?

Nikto has no desire to share his terrible news with anyone, let alone Sebastian.

So he turns tail and hurries away from Sebastian's room. Instead, Nikto goes to the gym. He finds a free treadmill and he runs. Before he knows it, the gym is empty and it's dark outside. He's drenched in sweat, heart hammering. A hand reaches out and turns his treadmill down and off. Nikto slows to a stop then leans forward, forced to catch his breath.

“You trying to die?” Sebastian asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. His fingers are tapping at the top of the treadmill, a giveaway that he's thinking about something.

Nikto doesn't have the patience for Sebastian and his bullshit right now.

So he only grunts dismissively and steps off the machine. When Nikto makes toward the showers, he is not surprised that Sebastian follows.

Because they are alone, Nikto does not hesitate to strip off his clothes. Sebastian leans a shoulder against a row of lockers and folds his arms, watching. His calculating gaze doesn't make Nikto nervous; he's too used to being on the receiving end of it anymore to let it bother him.

“You're pissy.”

Sometimes Nikto wishes Sebastian didn't have to be a cunt about everything.

Nikto stays silent.

The hot water pours down his back. Tension eases away with it. Nikto prefers cold showers exactly because they keep him alert. The fuck does it matter now?

Nikto is a dead man. He's known he's going to die eventually but putting a time limit on it…Nikto hates this feeling. Something hopeless and tired and, maybe even, afraid.

“Our new benefactors are assholes,” Sebastian tells him, “They're saying they only want to pay us half now. Something about unnecessary civilian casualties.”

Great. The new shadow op group they've joined are just as money grubbing as the last. They use civilian deaths as an excuse as if they didn't send an armed militant task force into a civilian area to shoot rocket launchers. Nikto hates them all.

“We'll take it and go.”

Sebastian looks genuinely surprised.

Nikto cuts the shower and returns to the lockers to dry off and change. As he does, Sebastian asks him.

“What are you thinking?”

“I think-” Nikto starts shortly, stepping into his pants without bothering with boxers, “I'm fucking tired of this shit.” 

He stops dressing like that, pants just pulled up but still undone. Nikto thunks his forehead against the locker in front of him. He sighs. When a hand touches his shoulder, Nikto twitches but doesn't flinch. He doesn't flinch from Sebastian's touch anymore.

“Come with me.”

He says it like a question by mistake.

Sebastian answers without hesitation.

“Where do we go? Kortac is looking for more operatives in the south-”

“Canada.”

Sebastian barks out a laugh. When he is met with silence, Sebastian cuts his chuckle short.

“Spatsi. Are you serious?”

Sometimes, Nikto misses Russia. Not the people, not his home, but the weather. He misses a crisp winter. He misses the kind of cold that takes your breath away, the snow that falls heavy and silent and cloaks everything in a sleepy, peaceful, deadly way. If he's going to die like this then he wants to do it in the cold.

“Yes. Canada.”

If Sebastian follows him, Nikto will know truly that Sebastian is as insane as he is.

“Canada, then,” Sebastian agrees with a tension in his voice Nikto rarely hears outside of a firefiight, “I've never been. Heard of this place called Valley of Headless Men. I've always wondered what it's like.”

Nikto snorts over a laugh. When he stands and turns, Nikto sees that Sebastian is looking at him like he's won something. Nikto leans over him, nudges his temple with his nose, and sighs into the familiar scent of cigarettes.

“Then we go. No jobs, no running, no killing,” every word is more terrifying than the last.

Nikto has no idea how to live any other way. As Nikto, he has never wanted anything else. Yet the news of his oncoming demise has shifted his perspective. Nikto doesn't want to spend the last days of his life surviving. He wants to do the impossible and he wants to do it with Sebastian.

“Sounds boring,” Sebastian says, honest, and glides his calloused fingers up Nikto's scarred back, “What do we do then? Go fishing? Camping? Take a tour?”

Nikto chews Sebastian's words over for a moment.

“Yes,” he decides.

Sebastian pulls away to give Nikto a baffled look. His eyes dart over Nikto's features, taking in the seriousness of his expression. He's clever, must know something is wrong. But he's also loyal. Nikto has never doubted that.