Certified Crybaby

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Fyodor appeared to be engrossed in the bright screen before him, shoulders hunched as he bit at his thumb in thought. 

It was a sight you were steadily becoming accustomed to. At times you doubted he even heard you entering his “workspace”, but you knew him better. Fyodor was a lot more observant than he let on. 

There was no need to clear your throat or signal your arrival anyhow, you just saw his hand stretch out, ready to take the folder you brought for him, so you did just that. 

It was the usual routine as Fyodor flipped through its contents, eyes scanning carefully. Even as he looked exhausted. In fact, Fyodor always had an aura of perpetual tiredness around him, so it was hard to read whether it applied to his current state. The late hour made you impatient too, wishing you’d at least get to sleep off the few hours before sunrise. 

“I couldn’t get ahold of everything,” you said, keeping your voice even. “I’ve mapped out the building, so I’ll be able to retrieve the rest in quick time.” 

It wasn’t so much as finding the papers, but copying them swiftly without notice that prolonged your job this time. Fyodor liked everything as he planned it, and when something went awry, it wasn’t so much as him adapting to the new circumstance than having predicted it itself. 

Maybe that’s why you don’t feel worry now. He surely knew your capabilities–you’ve been doing these types of jobs for him for a while now–and you tried to be as strict with yourself as you could. Slip-ups happened, but there were rarely consequences for them. For you.

A thought to ponder over, indeed.

“I see. I would like to have it by tomorrow,” Fyodor said, glancing briefly at you, and smiled.

He always looked gentle, like this. A man who knew exactly what to say and when. All in service of getting what he wanted when he wanted it. It was easy to fall victim to.

You nodded, sensing the unspoken cue to leave. 

And you were… you were leaving– yes. Your legs were already turning as Fyodor drew his gaze back to the screen, his lips parting to bite at his thumb again. You didn’t know what it was about that gesture, but it left a feeling of discontent in you. 

And it kept on happening. Every time you came back, that small nagging voice in your head always guided your attention to Fyodor’s hands. For a man that seemed so easy to bodily harm, he had a knack for completely destroying his fingers. No wonder since he was a man of habit, but seeing that thoughtful look and calm demeanour combined with such an uncomely habit struck at your nerves. 

It even got to the point of genuinely considering going to an actual drugstore just to buy him some nail recovery polish. Or something. You suppose straight-up bandages would go a bit far, though Fyodor didn’t seem the type to be offended.

Honestly, it was so absurd you barely had any idea how he’d react to that.

It irked you even now, as he worked in on your regular intel again. Fyodor’s hands were pale, delicate things, way swifter than you had thought as he typed away on the computer, both of you hunched over and seemingly breaking into a government organization that should definitely have better defences. 

It was a slow procedure, but Fyodor’s focus didn’t waver once, just kept a steady pace of dedication you had grown to admire about him. If you had doubted him before, it was clear now, with every small precision and thoughtful act, his was not a game of chance, but planning. 

And he was prepared for everything.

A small beep emerged from the screen. Your brows creased. “That’s supposed to be good, right?”

“I wouldn’t label it quite like that, but yes,” Fyodor’s eyes narrowed as he drew his chair closer, forcing you to shift more of your weight on the armrest. Your back was beginning to ache. “It will take more time this way, unfortunately.”

You nodded. To be honest, you didn’t mind the proximity. It took some time but you were proud to say you’d won some form of trust in recent. Or at least felt like it wasn’t too much of a hassle to be in Fyodor’s personal space like this. He does have a penchant for stabbing people, so it’s good to have a guard up, just in case.

It grew boring just watching on as time went by. By now the screen looked more like it behaved by itself, with Fyodor hitting a key here and there. You rose up and stretched, feeling a few joints pop. “I can’t fathom how you have the patience for this, I feel like an old grandpa just by standing.”

Fyodor looked at you, eyebrow raised. “Exactly. You’re standing, and I’m not. Small wonders help a lot.”

You hummed in agreement. But it was still rather stuffy in this room, the only light coming from the technology. There could have been a sun peaking through if only there were any windows. “Not just that, you’ve positively entered your hermit era if you keep plotting in your dark dungeon like this.”

“Is that bad?” Fyodor asked, almost seeming thoughtful.

“Very.” You shifted, leaning your weight on the desk to have a better view of the man before you. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said absently, head already turned to the screen.

Yeah, you doubted it. Not yet, at least. There was a lot more to be done before the next phase of his plane. You sighed, casting your gaze back to the screen. 

The sound of tapping returned and soon you were in a struggle between keeping a facade of concentrated composure, and forcefully stuffing away any daydreams of buying that damned nail polish.

But as with all things, getting stuck in your head usually lead to idiocy in the real world. Without much thought, just as the screen behind you flashed, indicating you’ve finally made it in, your hand gently reached out, catching Fyodor’s mid-typing, stopping him on the spot. 

He looked curiously down, blinking slowly.

You, on the other hand, were on the verge of chanting an inner mantra of stay calm stay calm stay calm and cool stay–

In moments like those, it was paramount to stand your ground. You touch remained firm, even if your pulse was rising by the second. Carefully, you turned his palm upwards, your fingers gently sliding along his skin as Fyodor tilted his head to the side. Observing. 

“Now this is unexpected,” he remarked, but didn’t move away, compliant even now. You wondered if his words were true. He was never surprised. 

You paid him no mind. Fyodor’s fingers shifted in sync with yours as you examined them, almost giving you more access to your curiosity. 

“I like your hands,” you said, calmly. Testing the waters seemed safer, for now. “You should take care of them. It doesn’t go well with the image you want to send out.”

“And here I thought having layers was more eye-catching.” Damn. Fyodor was teasing you, by the sound of his tone. Almost playful as he reclined back in his chair and relaxed. The complete opposite of how you felt. 

Forcing some semblance of control, you went on, “Not in the expanse of self-care. Really, I’m this close to booking you a manicure.” 

A light chuckle escaped his lips. “I’ll respectfully decline. But it does warm my heart to see your concern.” 

The weight of his gaze surprised you. It felt like being caged, every detail of your soul examined and studied in the blink of a second before his features softened into his usual pleasant smile. Amicable, and entirely fake.

You knew Fyodor was a man to keep your distance from. You’ve barely met any of his subordinates, yet even that small glimmer of information was enough to guess he wasn’t one to put his trust in others. 

Hell, he wasn’t one to hold yours in either.

But this moment now… those moments… watching Fyodor was interesting. Seeing what he would do– even more so.

You didn’t have time to second guess yourself. You wouldn’t let your hand stay in another’s hold if you weren’t entirely against it, would you? 

With that small confidence in tow, you–slowly, your full attention on Fyodor–moved his palm to the soft cushion of your lips. The kiss was scarcely there, shy of barely grazing his skin. It locked both of you in place, the build-up of something you weren’t entirely sure of engulfed the space in between. 

If you were more observant, you would have noticed how stiff Fyodor’s hand had become, barely a waver in it. He was waiting, letting you guide the situation for reasons only he knew. 

Your breath spilt against his skin as you said, “I wasn’t expecting to do this.”

“Weren’t you?” Fyodor’s brow raised. 

You felt your skin warming. “You’re not pulling away.”

“Hm. Neither are you.”

Those words, simple and direct. It felt like permission, but to what? The fear of reading into this wrongly crawled into your belly, but you already fell into this situation. Might as well try–

“I wanted to see what will happen,” you said, not prepared for the intense look in Fyodor’s eyes. A moment later– your breath stilled in your chest just as the slow caress of Fyodor’s thumb brushed against your lower cheek, unexpected,

“What was that English phrase about killing curiosity?” The chair’s wheels scratched at the floor as Fyodor moved closer, leaning his weight on one armrest as he cocked his head in thought. “It’s very similar to a Russian one, so it can be a bother to mix up.”

Your answer came automatically, mind entirely on where you ended yourself up in. “How curiosity killed the cat? Yeah, I know that one.”

Fyodor hummed, pleased. “Yes, exactly. It’s a good phrase. Though a bit cliche.”

“Well, does it?” You swallowed. Your eyes never left his, still locked in place.

“‘Does it’ what?” He asked. There was no trace of his smile now. Just attention. All drawn to you.

“Kill it?” You searched his face. 

“That is what you think of me? How cruel,” Fyodor said. His tone was playful still; you realised you liked it. Him. Like this.

Tentatively, you stood up. Life was about taking risks, right? “I can’t be blamed. You are hard to read.” 

You weren’t sure how far you could push him, but the sight of his face morphing into one of surprise as your hand found balance on his shoulder, a moment later your legs dangling from one side as you found yourself seated on Fyodor’s lap. It wasn’t ideal, with too little space and two bodies in it, but feeling Fyodor’s hand finding its way on your hip, almost drawing you closer in help to keep you in balance, you weren’t about to complain. 

You spun your head around, feining surprise. You forced your voice lower, hyper-aware of your newfound proximity. Faking being in control was pretty close to the real thing. Mostly. “Huh, curiosity can lead to some interesting circumstances.”

Nailed it.

“Indeed, you should be very careful with it,” Fyodor said. Despite his remarks, he leaned back again. The hand you held long left your cheek was now resting on the armrest, absently drumming into the plastic. 

Fuck.

“I’m… trying. I’m guessing it’s fine for me to do this?” You wiggled your legs, wondering what exactly you wanted out of this. This felt nice, but you were nowhere near being comfortable enough with Fyodor to speak as openly as you wanted. Maybe there was a plus to this, the unpredictability of it all. He seemed way more at ease than you would like. “Where exactly are we going with this?”

“Why, I’ll be following your lead. It’s been amusing so far, I want to see what you will do.” And the bastard smiled.

Not ideal. But you brought this on yourself. The thought of that glimpse of surprise on Fyodor’s face from earlier made heat pool at your face again. You wanted to see more. Do more.

You leaned in, face scrunching in thought as Fyodor only looked down at you, eyebrow raised, almost beckoning you. The proximity felt nice, but something was missing. You tilted your head in contemplation. 

“I think I want to kiss you.” 

He leaned closer, the perfect image of composure. “I see.” 

Your skin prickled, feeling his hand trail to your lower back, firm. 

“Then go ahead,” Fyodor said, and your brain froze.

It’s funny when you reflect on it now, but then– you distinctly remember hearing those words, and you remember that it wasn’t you who moved closer. Or not just you. Your memory jumbled together the moment Fyodor’s lips were on yours. Other sensations became dulled, almost distant, and only his warmth engulfed you. You don’t remember when your hands trailed up, but you couldn’t forget Fyodor’s soft exhale against your lips as your fingers brushed through his locks. The kiss wasn’t even open, and it already sent goosebumps all over your shoulders and back. 

It started slow, measured. You found yourself straddling him as the small, chaste kisses became heated, the warmth in your lower belly pooling as his hand held your face close to his. You’ve never been explored like this, Fyodor’s tongue licking its way into your mouth leisurely, prolonging every moment to its utmost.

“May I?” Fyodor whispered, his hand trailing down your neck and pushing the loose strands of hair away. Not that he needed to ask; you tilted your head, and his lips ghosted over your skin, their touch laden with so much gentleness you wondered where it all came from. 

Fyodor’s manners were easy to notice, but here, now, he made you melt right into his hold. Chest to chest, your hands caressing his hair, neck, shoulders– silently encouraging as you become accustomed to the slow intertwined rhythm of your bodies.

It was irresponsible– enjoying this as much as you did. You didn’t know where this would lead to, or how you’d look Fyodor in the face seeing as you’d still be his employee. The dynamic had switched, forcing you into a completely new territory you weren’t prepared for.

But all that flew out the window as your hand found the hem of Fyodor’s shirt, your fingers coming into contact with warm, smooth skin, and Fyodor’s quiet exhale as he buried his face deeper in the crook of your neck. 

“I’ll take that as encouragement, then.” You smiled, turning to kiss the side of his temple as your touch sent small shivers up Fyodor’s back, nails gently grazing at his skin. Whether he meant to say something in return… well, it seemed all thoughts were forgotten as you felt his muscles relax against you, body almost melting into yours.

You doubted he got to experience this often. Fyodor didn’t strike you as the type to go out of his way for affection– physical or otherwise. He reminded you of a cat, really, one that got too caught up in its self-sufficient world to realise it didn’t mind some tenderness when it was offered.

Fyodor might have craved it, even. You weren’t sure yet. 

You stayed like that for a long time, the dim light flashing from the screens left for the future to worry over. Fyodor’s lips found yours a few more times, each leaving you feeling warm and at ease, as your tongues moved against each other lazily, more a lover’s exploration than those heated kisses you were used to seeing in the movies. Your breath did not hitch, nor did you feel like your heart was about to burst with desire. 

No, you only felt Fyodor’s warm breath against your cheek, his lips pulling into a smile between chaste kisses as he pulled you even closer, hands firm around your waist as you squirmed now and then into a more comfortable position.

Chairs were not ideal places for this, but…