aspiring multifandom writer

            “Do you want anything to drink, milaya?” he called, rifling through the cupboards for a glass. You peered down at the table. You still had a fairly full glass of water, thanks to Nikolai constantly refilling it.

            “No, I still have water,” you replied, picking the glass up and swirling the ice in it for emphasis. Nikolai laughed.

            “No, no. I am asking if you want alcohol, глупый,” he said. Alcohol wasn’t a luxury you’d had the chance to try, it wasn’t like you had the money or time to spend on it. But something about even just the thought made your throat go dry.

            “Um, I’ll pass. Thanks,” you faltered, tone wavering ever so slightly.

            “Are you sure? I have some of those fruit flavored drinks you young people like,” he insisted. He settled back into his seat, a glass in one hand and a rather large bottle of clear liquid in the other. Slowly, he poured a small sip into the glass and slid it in your direction. It wasn’t much, less than half a shot poured over ice. Yet it was slightly intimidating, nonetheless. You tentatively reached a hand out before pulling it back.

            “I think I’ll pass. Thank you,” you replied. Nikolai shrugged before tossing his head back and taking a swig straight from the bottle. The sight knocked the wind from you, the way he chugged it like it was water. Maybe it was, with how easily it went down for the man. After a second, he set the bottle down with a hearty laugh. He smiled at you, then furrowed his brow like he was thinking. After a second, he perked up.

            “Ah, before I start forgetting. I got you something,” he strained as he reached around the chair before pulling out a gift bag with a single sheet of tissue paper across the top. “Forgive me. I am not the most gift-givey person.”

            It was a fairly big bag. You picked it up. It wasn’t that heavy either. You could feel Nikolai watching you as you assessed the package. Finally, you removed the tissue paper and pulled out the item. It was a brand-new laptop. One of the newer ones on the market, you recognized it from the late nights you’d spent hunched over your old hunk of junk allowing yourself a small respite to dream of having something better. You swear you felt your heart stop for a second as your body went rigid.

            “Is all set up for you! I even put some of those silly computer games women like on there,” he beamed, clearly patting himself on the back for such a well-thought gift. You, meanwhile, were still trying to grapple with the reality of holding a $2,000 piece of hardware and it actually being yours. With a featherlight touch, you opened it. Immediately, you were greeted with a desktop with every game neatly alphabetized down the side. Frog Detective 1-3, Hello Kitty Island Adventure, Minecraft, Paleo Pines, Potion Craft, Slime Rancher, Sticky Business, Turnip Boy Commits…Tax Evasion? Bit of an oddball choice for the last one but you weren’t gonna complain. You opened your mouth to speak when Nikolai cut you off.

            “Don’t you ask how much you owe me.”

            “…I thought you wanted me to clean and stuff?”

            Nikolai huffed like it was the most obvious thing.

            “You are not here to be maid, you are allowed entertainment. Work is not all there is to life. Not anymore, дорогая.”

            The sun had gone down 5, maybe 8 hours ago? You had no clue, you’d had your face in the screen since you laid in bed. Your host was generous enough to give such a wonderful gift and you were going to put it to good use. You were feverishly shaking the mouse back and forth, trying to make a light potion on Potion Craft when a rumbling sounded out in the darkness. You peeled your eyes away from the screen, trying to hone in on the sound. Distant thunder, maybe some wild animal? It wasn’t that important. What was important was getting the damn recipe right without breaking the bottle for the fiftieth time. You grasped the mouse, ready to resume, but there it was again, a low tone that you almost couldn’t parse. It had to be something inside. Maybe the furnace was having a bit of trouble starting. Something compelled you to check it out. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, careful not to tangle yourself this time, and started down the hall, You had to use the wall as guidance, not wanting to risk turning on the light. Eventually, your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and as you reached the living room, you saw it.

            Nikolai, passed out in his recliner, empty bottle discarded on the floor and a half-full one dangerously close to the edge of the table. The rumbling was his snoring, muffled mostly by his slouched posture. Despite the drinking clutter, he looked oddly peaceful. But you just couldn’t leave him like that. Gently, you gathered the bottles, throwing the empty one out and setting the other on the counter. Then, you grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and gingerly draped it over his front. Despite how silently you thought you were moving, Nikolai stirred. His eyelids fluttered and his head lolled to the side, the faintest smile on his features.

            “Спасибо, моя любовь. Ты такой милый,” he slurred, accent thick and words marred by the tangling of sleep and alcohol. You had not a single clue what was said, but you smiled back. You gave a polite nod before returning to your room.

            “Good to see you back in commission,” he said, smiling. “How do you feel?”

            “I feel like I’m covered in grease,” you replied, running your hands through your hair.

            “You don’t think a slick-back would suit you?” joked Nikolai, running a hand over his own hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at that.

            “It looks better on you,” you responded, only realizing how that sounded once the words had left your mouth. You fumbled with your words for a second while Nik chuckled.

            “Why don’t you wash the sleep from your eyes, глупый,” he offered, gesturing towards the bathroom. You obliged, groggily stumbling back to your room. You noticed your bed was made, sheets perfectly tucked and blanket peeled back at the corner like an invitation. It even looked as if your pillows had been fluffed. How thoughtful. Passing through the closet, you got a proper good look at the bathroom. It was undecorated, only holding the essentials. Toilet paper, soap, towels. He was courteous enough to include a shower caddy though, holding some shampoo and conditioner. You couldn’t read the labels, but they certainly looked and smelled expensive.

            It took a second to figure out the controls, but eventually you were rewarded for your efforts with a rush of warm water on your skin. You sighed. You hadn’t felt water pressure this great in years, and you could stay in for as long as you wanted. Maybe you’d just stay in the shower from here on out. You took great care lathering the soap onto your skin, reveling in the smooth feel and sweet scent of oatmeal and honey. Slowly, days worth of grime was washed away like bubbles down the drain, followed by shampoo and conditioner. By the time you stepped out of the shower, your fingers were pruned and the fluffy towel you wrapped around yourself was warmed by the steam in the room. It almost felt like you were a new person. Only fitting for a new life. You patted dry and looked through your belongings. You didn’t have much in terms of clothes, your wardrobe consisting mostly of work uniforms. The only “comfy” clothes you owned were the ones you had already worn, so reluctantly you slipped them back on. When you stepped back into the living room, Nikolai looked like he was three seconds away from a heart attack.

            “Where are your house clothes?” he asked, distraught.

            “I don’t really have any, all my stuff is for work,” you admitted.

            “неудивительно, что ты хотел уйти,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. Slowly, he rose from his chair.

            “You can’t walk around like that. Come, we’ll get you new clothes.”

            You unloaded the last item from the bag, a simple white sundress, and hung it on the rack. You had spent the last 5 hours shopping for clothes with Nikolai, with the only reason it took so long being his insistence that you buy more stuff. He was all too quick to remind you that you had a whole closet for yourself, and space nor price was an issue anymore. So, you allowed yourself to indulge a bit. By the end, you’d amassed quite the collection of sweatpants, sweaters, and a whole assortment of comfy clothes for lying around in. Satisfied, you discarded your old clothes and searched the seemingly endless new collection for something new. After a minute or so you settled on a pair of loose jeans and a sweater with a beautiful floral pattern.

            “Are you going to show me what you spent my money on?” called Nik from outside. Oddly enough, you did feel a little more confident. You had been confined to an ill-fitting and worn work uniform for so long, it was refreshing and a little empowering to finally wear what you wanted. The clothes do make the person after all. So, you threw open the door to your room, treating the hall like your own personal runway. Nikolai cheered, clapping and motioning for you to do a spin, which you did.

            “Very stylish, маленькая модель. Так красиво!” he whistled. You soaked in the praise, appreciation swelling in your chest. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time someone had given you a compliment. Yet, Nikolai lavished you in attention, passing out praise like Halloween candy. It made your tummy do a funny flip and filled your chest with warm fuzzies to think that this random guy you found online was kinder than most folks you’d met over the past few years. You finished your little runway walk with a mock curtsey before sitting on the couch with a smile.

            “Thank you for paying, and taking me shopping, and for…everything, really,” you said. Nikolai made a dismissive motion with his hands.

            “Enough. Get what you want. Not what has the smallest number,” he said, putting his hand on the box to keep you from picking it up. You simply grabbed another from the shelf and slid it onto the bottom rack of the cart.

            “I’m just trying to stay under budget,” you replied simply. Nikolai took a deep breath and paused before bending to get on your eye level.

            “No more budget. No more penny pinching. You don’t have to survive anymore. It will not kill you to pick the most expensive option,” he insisted. You scrunched your face at the thought. Not having a budget and just buying…anything? Impossible. But something in the way Nikolai looked at you made you relent. You looked at everything you’d gathered so far. Did you decide you wanted it, or was it chosen by years of survival braided into the fibers of your being? Slowly, you pulled the table out from under the cart and set it down, reassessing the selection. The one you picked out was nice enough, but there was a much better looking one with additional storage and even a power outlet for almost double the price of your first selection. You hesitated, then slowly pulled the box off the shelf and put it in the cart. Nikolai beamed.

            “There you go, милая. Not all that hard,” he celebrated, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Seeing the way Nikolai’s face seemed to glow when he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile too.

            From there, shopping went much easier. Anything you showed remote interest in went in the cart. Silky sheet set? Toss it in. Silly poster of a cat? Carted immediately. You even noticed Nik loading things in he thought you’d like based on what you were picking. You almost said something, but he actually wasn’t too bad in his choices so you continued on. By the time you reached the checkout, you had a dopey grin on your face, giddy as a kid in a candy shop. Maybe things were going to go smoothly after all.

            Later in the evening, long after the sun went down, you emerged from your room after finally setting everything up. Your bed was freshly made, your mirror was set up in the closet, and you felt enough had been done for you that it was your turn to help. As soon as you opened your door you noticed the warm glow illuminating the hall. Taking soft steps, you walked to the living room to find Nikolai, hunched over a flurry of papers on the coffee table. He had reading glasses on, aimlessly tapping on the table with a pen as he scanned the documents.

            “Good evening, маленькая мышь,” hummed Nikolai. You jumped, earning a small chuckle from the man.

            “Um, what are you doing so late?” you questioned, walking over to the table.

            “Handling your immigration paperwork, Unless you would prefer to be a stowaway,” he replied simply. You faltered for a second.

            “Uh, shouldn’t I be doing that?” you asked, but Nik gave a dismissive hand wave.

            “I told you that I would handle things. Besides, I doubt you can read this,” he said, holding out a paper for you to scan. It was entirely Russian. You didn’t even get a chance to respond before Nik put it back on the table and began filling in the boxes. It crossed your mind to ask how he managed to get your info, but you knew better to ask, figuring he’d dismiss it with “I said I’d handle it,”. Instead, you tottered around the kitchen, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout and find something to do.

            “I thought you would be in bed by now, with how much you slept. Jet lag and all,” he called over his shoulder. You made a noncommittal sound, preoccupied with rummaging through the cupboards.

            “Wanted to be helpful.”

            “If you would like to lend a hand, you could start the kettle while you’re over there,” said Nikolai. You nodded, digging through a few more cupboards until you found it. A beautiful copper kettle, still shiny despite its age. You filled it and turned the stove burner to medium, not wanting to keep your host waiting too long since he was so generous.

            “How do you prefer your tea?” you asked, searching for the tea and sugar.

            “Just plain is alright, милая,” he replied. You paused for a second.

            “What does that word mean?”

            “What, milaya?”

            “Yeah, that one. What’s it mean?”

            Nikolai laughed, a rich sound that tickled your ears.

            “You worry I am talking bad about you?” he joked. The kettle had already begun to whistle, a silent shrill cry. You quickly grabbed two cups.

            “No, just curious is all,” you responded, bringing two steaming mugs to the couch where Nikolai was sat.

            You were on the edge of consciousness, not quite asleep, but certainly not fully awake. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so well rested. You were just about to doze back off when a light shake disturbed you. You yawned, pulling the sleep mask back onto your forehead. It took your eyes a second to adjust, but in time you could see clear enough to realize you were right on the edge of a forest. Your neck creaked as you turned to see Nikolai, the crease of smile lines at the edge of his eyes evident through the groggy haze. You slid the headphones off your ears and stretched.

            “What, did I miss something?” you asked. Nik huffed a small laugh.

            “Just the entire trip. We’re here, соня,” he said, motioning to something out the window to your right. Despite the protest of your spine, you turned to see a beautiful ranch-style cabin. It was modest, a small one-floor home, but it was majestic in its own right. Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt, like the sight would flit from sight like a skittish fawn if you moved too fast, and you’d be ripped back to the hell of normal living. Out of sight, Nik smiled to himself, finding your awestruck expression endearing. He stepped forth, welcoming you onto the property properly. He made a show of showing you where the spare key was, hidden under a false floorboard beneath the porch swing, before opening the door and gesturing for you to follow him inside. The interior was the right mix of modern and rustic, not too sanitized and still warm and welcoming. You stepped into the center of the living room, entranced by the beauty. Your favorite piece, aside from the soft fur rug that was silky under your feet, was the massive antler rack hung above the fireplace.

            “Much better than before, yes?”  chimed Nikolai, a faint inflection of pride evident in his tone. You nodded, speechless. He gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, ushering you to follow again. He led you past the little laundry room to a closed door. He gestured for you to open it yourself, and you were greeted with a very spacious bedroom. It was empty aside from a lone queen-sized mattress on a bare metal frame.

            “I figured it would be better to leave it bare for-“

            Nik was cut off by you dropping your bags to take a running start and flop onto the mattress. You’d never had this much bed room before, and it was oh so soft. You could die here, you thought. Nikolai chuckled softly.

            “That’s not the best part,” he said, pointing to the other side of the room. You picked your head up to see a walk-through closet that opened to a bathroom on the other side. “We can get you a curtain for that, I’m sure you’d enjoy some privacy.”

            You might just kiss this man, honestly. You would have never seen yourself having a walk through closet and personal bathroom, not in a million lifetimes. You whipped your head to look at Nik.

            “And all of this is FREE?” you said incredulously. He shrugged.

            “Unless you would prefer to pay?” he bantered, bursting into a fit of chuckles when he saw your face drop at the suggestion. He turned to exit the room.

            “If you need anything, my room is all the way down the hall, past the bathroom. Let me know when you are ready to go to town,” he said, gently closing your door and leaving you with your thoughts. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. This was far from the first time you’d moved, yet this one held the most gravity. There was no fanfare, no ceremony, nothing. It felt more like a vacation than something permanent. At least, you hoped it was permanent. What if it didn’t work out? Would he ship you back home, or would you be stranded as a foreigner in Russia? What would happen then? Your stomach sank at the realization of how poorly thought-out this whole thing was. But you were in far too deep now, all you could do was see where the current took you.

            The man looked up, caught off guard by your unorthodox arrival. But as soon as he locked eyes with you, chocolate brown eyes peering over a pair of silver-rimmed aviators, a radiant grin spread across his face.

            “Good to see you brought your appetite, незнакомец. Come, sit,” he said warmly, gesturing to the seat. You smiled sheepishly, sliding into the booth as gracefully as you could. The man straightened his posture, the delicate gold chain that adorned his neck catching the light just right as he tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. He was well-built, if a little stocky, with slick black hair and a dusting of stubble. His outfit radiated subtle opulence, a plain black dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a swirl of dark chest hair, paired with black slacks.

            “A lovely face to match such a lovely name,” he drawled, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

            “Will I get to know yours, or should I just call you Nikolinsky?” you replied. That earned a hearty chuckle.

            “I admire your wit, I think we will get along well. Call me Nikolai,” he smiled, extending a hand over the table. You took it, a little intimidated by the way his hand completely dwarfed yours. He gave a warm squeeze before sliding the menu across the table.

            “Take your time, pick what you’d like. I’m in no rush,” he said. You frowned.

            “I thought we were just meeting here?” you questioned.

            “Why invite you to a nice lunch spot if not to get lunch? It would be cruel,” he pulled out his wallet, fingering through the leather folds, “Unless, you would rather get straight to business?” You thought about it. It would certainly help if you could keep food down instead of having anxious indigestion. You gave a small nod.

            “Sorry if it’s rude, I’m just a little uneasy. This isn’t something I’d usually do,” you admitted. Nikolai put his hands up.

            “Oh no no, completely fine. I understand. Let us cut to the chase,” Nikolai said, straightening his posture. He folded his hands on the table like he was interviewing you for a high-profile position. “So, наивная девочка, what drives you to want to get away?”

            You swallowed thickly. This wasn’t something you’d considered putting into words, let alone spilling to someone you’d just met, but the opportunity to truly start anew dangled in the back of your mind like a golden ticket.

            “Well, it’s not like my life is ideal as of right now. Money is tighter than a noose, yet all I do when I’m not eating or sleeping is work, and that’s when I can afford to eat. I’m stuck relying on whatever side gigs I can find online to put food on the table. And it’s not like I’m living lavishly either, the most expensive thing I own is a 6 year old laptop that doesn’t hold a charge worth shit. So that leaves me stuck in this perpetual loop of nothing but work day-to-day with a snowball’s chance in Hell of things changing. No friends. Not a single family member willing to reach out. Just this neverending looplike I’m in fucking purgatory,” you ranted, the pinprick of tears threatening to fall. Nikolai nodded empathetically.

            “Work with no reprieve is harsh, yes. I have been in that spot many times myself,” he said solemnly. You sucked in a deep breath before continuing.

            “Ideally, starting over for me would mean a new life with a much lighter financial burden, some time for friends and hobbies. A better job, someplace less oppressive than this, maybe an actual living space instead of some cramped closet. I know freedom is too much to ask for, but I wish I had just a little more space,” you finished, swallowing and taking a shaky breath. Nikolai reached a comforting hand out, gently running his thumb over the back of your hand. It was a small gesture, but you appreciated it. A beat passed before Nikolai spoke.

            “Well, maybe this will work better than expected for both of us. You want a fresh start, and I want companionship. Two birds with one stone, yes?” he pondered aloud. That piqued your interest.

            “What are you proposing?” you asked, clearing your throat.

            “I have a cabin in the woods not far from Sochi. You can move in, free of charge. All your expenses will be paid, and you’ll have more than enough free time in the months I’m not home. All I ask is you keep the place out of disrepair.” He replied. You narrowed your eyes.

            “So, you just want a roommate?”

            “Yes, you could say that.”

            “Why not just get a pet if you’re lonely?”

            “They don’t make good small talk.”

            “Why not ask someone who lives closer to take care of your house?”

            “Most folks are busy with their own lives.”

            “I’m sure anyone would drop everything if you offered to pay for everything. And why specifically did you seek out a female?”

            “I grew up with many sisters, living with women comes more naturally.”

            “Can I still get a job if you’re paying for stuff?”

            “That is your choice.”

            “Do I have to churn butter and make soap?”

            “Unless you choose to pick up the hobby, no.”

            “…do we have to, um, kiss?”

            “Not unless you want to.”

            How he managed to handle every question without hesitation and still remain as cool as ice was astounding. You genuinely couldn’t think of any other questions to throw at him, and everything so far sounded too good to be true. Nikolai seemed to sense this, leaning a bit closer over the table.

            “I understand if this is a lot to think about. If you would prefer to think it over for a while, we can eat and talk again later,” he reassured, but you shook your head.

            “Where do I sign?”

            About an hour later, Nikolai showed up at your door. He was expecting you to come with some suitcases or boxes, maybe a moving van. But all you had was a computer bag and a backpack full of clothing. Confused, he got out of the truck.

            “Where is the rest of your stuff? Are you just going to leave it behind?” he asked. You shrugged.

            “Not much to take,” you replied nonchalantly, but Nik wasn’t convinced. He pressed the door open and audibly gasped.

            “This is where you live?” he hesitated, disbelief in his tone. You were a little embarrassed, but it wasn’t like you had much to begin with. When you moved in, all you had was your laptop and a handful of clothes, and since then it wasn’t like you had spare change to spend on much else. A cheap plastic trashcan, a folding chair and old air mattress from a yard sale, and a table someone left out on the curb. None of which was worth taking.

            “It’s not much, but it’s home,” you replied noncommittally.

            “Nono, милая. This is no home, this is a cell,” he muttered, gently placing his arm around you shoulder to guide you out the door. “Come on, we’ll get you new stuff when we get home.”

            I hope this finds you well. I received your submission and your responses stood out to me. You wrote that if you were given the chance to start a new life, you would with no questions asked. If you are truly interested, please do write back soon so we can discuss details. I look forward to hearing from you.

                        -  N.B.

            You stared at the screen dumbfounded. This had to be a scam. There was no way in hell some rando on the internet could magically whisk you away from your dingy little shithole with the flick of the wrist and the wave of a wand. You just wanted a little cash on the side, this was more than you bargained for. But then again, maybe you could squeeze a little pocket change out of it. After all, they did tip you a whole $50 more than the initial listing. Anyone throwing around that kind of cash in this economy had to have at least a little more than that to spare, right? Completely setting your morals and common sense aside you wrote back. You didn’t think much of it. Just a silly little plan to pad your pockets enough to not have to worry about food for a few week. Until the second email arrived.

            Are you available for lunch tomorrow afternoon? I know a spot with nice sandwiches and baked goods.

            Well shit, how could you say no to lunch? Besides, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out for food, let alone with someone else. You agreed, and a minute later he sent a map link to the spot. It seemed nice enough, a family-owned shop that sold treats from a local bakery. Good reviews, and it wasn’t horribly far. You could walk, weather permitting, which meant you could save a little money for bus fair to get groceries at a later date. At least, that was how you rationalized it to yourself. Truthfully, you’d probably be better off at home scraping the bottom of the barrel for more sidework, anything to put a little extra cash in your pocket and make getting a leg up more attainable. But you were desperate, and what was life without a little risk? You’d just have to wait and see how much you’d be risking.

            Thank you for accepting! Here is the link. Help is very much appreciated, send back when you are done. :)

            You were a little suspicious, but you were in need of the cash. So you clicked it. After taking a second to load, you were greeted with a rudimentary form. It looked like some sort of demographic survey, 2 yes-or-no questions and 8 open-ended.

Are you a woman?

Are you single?

What is your age?

Where are you from?

How much do you make?

What are your hobbies?

Do you drink?

Do you smoke?

Do you enjoy staying at home or travelling?

If you were given the chance to start a new life, would you?

            That last one caught your attention. It was odd, so different from the rest that you considered removing it, but the creator clearly had some sort of intent with it seeing as it was the last one. So you left it untouched, opting instead to do some light rewording before submitting it. You stretched, heading back to the site’s homepage to look for something else when you received another message.

            Thank you for prompt service! How do you recommend I get this seen by people? I need a lot of responses.

            You could afford to humor them with a response, why not? It's only the polite thing to do; especially for a $250 job.

            Of course. You could pay for ad spots on websites, or upload them to sites that contain your target demographic. Good luck!

            You closed the conversation, mindlessly scrolling through other jobs, but something nagged at the back of your mind. Starting a new life. What kind of question is that? You had to admit, the idea was pretty appealing. There were things much worse than being confined to a one bedroom apartment and a minimum wage job that barely covered it, but there were so many things that could be better. You went back to the survey. Looked it over again. The client did say they needed a lot of responses, so really you’re just helping. You’re just providing good customer service.

If you were given the chance to start a new life, would you?

Yes. No questions asked, yes.

            “Silent as always, тень,” the pilot chuckled, not turning to face Ghost as he made his way over. Despite how much time he spent isolated in his workspace, his senses were sharp as ever. Ghost crossed his arms, not bothering with pleasantries.

            “I need a favor,” he said gruffly. Nik sighed dramatically, wiping the grease from his hand as he reached for a tool.

            “Is not leaving you stranded and bleeding not favor enough?” he joked.

            “S’ a personal one.”

            That was enough to catch Nikolai’s attention. He peered over his shoulder, squinting at the soldier. Still in fatigues, the weight of the day ever so slightly evident in his posture. He spun in his seat, wiping the excess grease on his cargos as he faced Ghost.

            “Is a dangerous thing, mixing personal life with work,” Nikolai said gravely.

            “Little hard not to mix’em when work goes out of it’s way to overstep,” Ghost replied. Nikolai faltered for a beat before rising from his seat. Ghost had never seen the man so unnerved in his element, scanning the room before leaning closer to Ghost.

            “мне жаль, friend, but I cannot help you. My hands are tied,” he said in a hushed tone. Ghost growled.

            “Fuckin’ hell, ‘course he’s got you in his back fuckin’ pocket,” Ghost huffed. Nik furrowed his brow.

            “It’s not my choice, believe me. If you want my advice, take her. Go as far as you can, and tell no one. That’s all I can say, доверенное лицо.” Nikolai gave a sad smile, patting Ghost on the shoulder and motioning for him to leave. Ghost clenched and flexed his muscles, words burning behind his teeth. How did he know about you? How much did he know? And why the hell was he suggesting something so dire? But clearly, Nik wasn’t in the mood for talking anymore, practically pushing Ghost towards the door. Reluctantly, he left the hangar with more questions than answers.

sending a message via pigeon to...

            “Hope this stuff is ok,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. You pulled each item out one by one like an unboxing video. Some fries, macaroni, and…a bottle of wine? You shot Simon a confused look.

            “Was’n really lookin’ at what I grabbed after the main course,” the man admitted, head hung low as he refused to meet your gaze. You shook your head before you pulled out the final item. Immediately, your eyes lit up.

            “How’d you know I loved these?!” you exclaimed, holding the bag of dino nuggets up like a trophy. You saw the way Simon’s shoulders relaxed, like he’d been holding his breath.

            “Jus’ seemed like something you’d like,” he replied, moving the empty bags out of the way. You started rooting through the cupboards for a baking sheet when Simon stopped you, gently resting a hand on your shoulder.

            “I’ll handle it, go pick out something to watch,” he said, motioning towards the kitchen doorway. Objecting crossed your mind, but you decided against it. If he wanted to handle it, that was his choice. Besides, you couldn’t recall the last time someone offered to cook for you. So, you plopped down on the couch, scrolling through a seemingly endless selection of movies until you finally settling on something.

            “Didn’t take you for a Bond fan,” Simon rumbled from the kitchen. Truthfully you weren’t, but it was on your backlog of movies to watch and now seemed like a better time than any to try a movie that you’d been putting off.

            “Not really, but you can’t go wrong with a good action thriller. Besides, global political espionage always makes for an intriguing movie,” you called back, grabbing a blanket and properly settling on the couch as the opening credits began. Simon plodded over, perching on the opposite edge of the couch. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

            “You don’t have to act like a stranger, y’know. You can get comfy, take your coat off and all,” you said, tossing the end of the blanket towards him. Slowly, he covered up, pulling the blanket up and straightening it over his lap. But he refused to take the jacket off, going so far as to keep the hood up as well. You huffed softly, disappointed. You knew Simon said that he would try to be more open, but already you couldn’t see things going too much farther if he couldn’t get past taking off his hood. Maybe it was a little early to judge, but it didn’t make sense why something so small was so hard for him.

            “Wot?”

            Simon brought you from your thoughts, head turned to you like an inquisitive hawk. You waved your hand dismissively, but Simon turned to you, unintentionally tugging you towards him as you were tucked snugly into the blanket.

            “Ave I messed something up already?” he asked. You pursed your lips.

            “It’s the hood. I guess I just don’t get how you’re so guarded about it. You said you’d be more open, but you can’t even show me your face,” you said. You watched Simon’s shoulders tense before he reached to unzip his jacket. Slowly, he slipped his arms out of the sleeves like peeling off armor before reaching up to the brim of the hood. His eyes flicked to yours, nervous. You gave a nod and encouraging smile, and at last the curtain fell.

            Well, kinda. He had on a neck gaiter still, keeping the bottom half of his face covered, but that still left a whole half of a face you’d never seen before. You tried (and failed) to not stare as you took in the sight. Two massive scars jutted up from the mask; one crossing from the top of his right brow and disappearing beyond the mask, and the other straight down his right eye, leaving a little bald spot in his eyebrow. Cute. You could see some of the skin on his left cheek was mottled and puffy, maybe from an injury. But what made your heart do a funny little flutter was his hair. Sandy blonde and messy, with the slightest little wave at the ends. He ran his hand through it anxiously.

            “Could do with a shave, sorry,” he admitted, but you shook your head.

            “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

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            He turned down the snack aisle. All good movie nights included snacks, he thought. Absentmindedly, he rolled the trolley across the epoxy flooring. What qualified as “appropriate” snacks for a date night? He picked up a box of microwave popcorn. Popcorn was synonymous with movies, if his time with Soap had taught him anything. He had spent plenty of nights cramped on the rec room couch with the sergeant, the scent of butter and sound of laughter in the air as Johnny yapped through the entire movie. Slowly watching the bag spin and puff in the microwave, and the way it made everything that was reheated smell like popcorn even weeks after.

            He dropped it in the trolley, fairly confident in his choice. But that couldn’t be the only food for the whole night, there was still the matter of dinner. He pondered for a second if takeout would be appropriate when a sign caught his attention. A big yellow and red sign that read “POPULAR PRODUCTS”, posted right over a freezer box. Curiously, he peered in. Frozen pizza, bags of oven-ready french fries, microwavable macaroni, and…what? Ghost picked the bag up like it would detonate at any moment. Chicken nuggets…shaped like dinosaurs? Is this really what folks were obsessed with nowadays? He looked back in the freezer. There were only a few bags left, the dedicated slot for the nuggets having been ravaged by other shoppers. With a judgemental huff, he put it in the trolley, along with a bag of fries and a few trays of microwave macaroni. But something was still missing. Drinks. The actual drink aisle was on the other side of the store, and Ghost’s patience was running thin. So, he halfheartedly grabbed a couple bottles off of a nearby endcap and headed for the checkout.

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