I SAW YOU (part 1)

A/N 1 – Hello everyone! Okay I just realized that I'd delved straight into the action without writing any meaningless author notes first! Unthinkable! :)))) So, all I can say is – guys, thank you so much for the support you're giving this fic and enjoy the new chap ;)

A/N 2 - One of my readers on AO3 pointed out that Berwald actually uses more vowels than I gave him until now and for that I deeply apologize! Thank you again for this insightful feedback and yeah, will do ;)

Sebastiano Vargas– Seborga

Alin – Romania


Berwald stifled a yawn, briefly rubbing his eyes under his glasses and sighing into the refreshing aroma wafting from the coffee cup in his hand. His days had gotten longer and more stressful as of late, always on the edge at the new 'job'. He had yet to see Väinämöinen's supplier (or suppliers?) and there weren't a lot of customers as it was, but all the time spent anticipating something, anything to happen was wearing him out like nothing else. Aside from that, the detective was painfully aware that he had to do something to dig up useful information on the Italians – the reason he'd taken up the job in the first place – maybe try to talk his employer into giving him some?

He would have hated this to prove a dead end and to have to leave the Finn in search for other opportunities, as striking as this may have sounded. Because Tino Väinämöinen was a gun dealer who probably had no qualms about using one too if need be, had openly threatened to kill him with the same ease with which one talked about the weather, and that innocent and sweet air he had about him was like a soft blanket of sparkly snowflakes shrewdly concealing the hard, unforgiving ice underneath. Still, there was something about the man Berwald found himself drawn to and oddly curious about, even if he couldn't possibly pinpoint it.

"Hmm, looks like the Magic Club will be paying us a visit today," Tino muttered like an afterthought, eyes glued to the screen of his phone as he was scrolling down on it lazily, leaning on one elbow onto the counter he was sitting behind. "Got an e-mail with their order the other day, good thing I got it ready right away, pffftt... "

Berwald instantly perked up at the odd name, because it was the first time in the past week that he'd heard the Finn actually name his customers. Usually he just took them in the back without a word to his bodyguard, delivered the goods and collected payments with professional efficiency and no unneeded disclosures.

"The Magic Club?" he asked tentatively. It sounded like a gang name.

"You haven't heard of them?"

"Nop'"

"What about the Edelstein family?"

The Swede shook his head, digging into his pocket to check his own phone.

"So then… who have you heard of?"

He looked up to see Tino observing him curiously and cleared his throat, straightening his back. "I've heard of the Vargas br'thers," the detective ventured, trying to keep his tone as casual as possible. "They're recruiting, or so th' word goes…"

"Oh! But if they're recruiting, then why is it that you didn't get a job with them instead? I'm sure you'd fit the requirements and the pay must be better too," the other asked.

Well, because it would have been too close to the target and possibly too suspicious, if he indeed would have had the chance to 'apply' with the Italians, although Berwald wasn't entirely sure of this argument. If this paid off though, it was much better this way. It was unlikely that the Vargas brothers would ever suspect their guns supplier's bodyguard of being a cop on their trail.

"I don't like Italians," he replied with a brief shrug. "I don't tr'st their work eth'cs…"

Tino's mouth stretched into a genuinely amused smile and he started to chuckle. "That's a good one, work ethics! That's a big word in this line of work, Ber… I didn't see that coming from you!" he pointed, wiggling his finger playfully. "So, do you think that I-"

The Finn didn't get to finish his sentence because in the next moment the front door flew open and a disheveled teen barged inside. Berwald put down the coffee cup and stood automatically, right hand discreetly but determinedly going for the Walther P99 Tino had provided and which was now tucked safely into the back of his belt. But something about the boy drew his attention, there was something familiar in his lean and somewhat graceful frame and the light, auburn-tinged chestnut hair falling in a curl over his sweat-covered forehead and framing his reddened cheeks.

"Do you know who I am?" the teen inquired aggressively, after quickly scanning the room.

"You're a little shit," Väinämöinen replied impassively, resuming the scrolling on his phone.

The boy looked perplexed for a split second, no doubt taken aback by the reaction he'd surely not expected. "I'm Sebastiano Vargas, motherfucker!" he spat, his accent breaking out and making the last word sound almost comically. "And you, you little shit, are gonna give me something!"

"Something?"

"A shotgun," Sebastiano said, quickly licking his chapped lips. "Something cool!"

"How much do you have?" Tino wanted to know, still not gracing the kid with as much as a glance. As the young Italian didn't answer, he finally set his phone down on the counter and stood up, leaning forward on his palms. "See, that's what I thought. Underage, underfinanced, the answer is no."

"I've got this, motherfucker!" the teen shouted, his arm shooting forward with surprising speed and aiming a gun straight at the Finn.

Berwald was about to draw out his own weapon, but Tino stopped him with a brief wave of his hand. "You know what, you're a dumbass and you offend me," he told the Italian. "You say you want a shotgun, but you didn't even bother to fucking google something first, so you don't even know what the hell you want! And then you barge in here like Snow-White and you think that what, we're sitting ducks?!" He sighed. "Can you see that muzzle below the top of the counter?"

The Swede followed the teen's anxious gaze and discovered it, concealed between various fabric samples. It was really unnoticeable and pointed at the perfect angle to aim at a potential intruder. Like this one.

"It's a Suomi KP/-31 sub-machinegun, with a rate of fire of 750–900 rounds per minute, muzzle velocity 396 meters per second and an effective firing range of 200 m. That is to say, it can gun your ass all the way into the store across the street."

"What cartridge?" Berwald asked, instead of the actual question which was about to escape him. He was no gun expert, but had a vague suspicion Tino was talking about a vintage, collector's item, most likely not functional.

"9 per 19 millimeter Parabellum," the Finn clarified. "And it's remote controlled."

"Bullshit!" Sebastiano shouted, but his gun arm had started to shake slightly. "Bullshit!" he repeated, when Tino checked his wrist watch and huffed in annoyance. "I want-… I want an AK-47! Right now! Right now or I'll fucking kill you!"

Berwald saw the boy's index finger twitching against the trigger and acted on impulse (safety first, always - that was how he'd been trained), lunging forward at top speed and ramming into the teen with all his strength while he forced his gun arm upwards. The young Italian cried out and the gun discharged just before the detective managed to get a hold of it, making a hole into the low ceiling above and causing crumbs of plaster to rain down on both of them.

"Ugh…" the shop-owner groaned, assessing the damage. "Just when I'd given it a new paint-job, damn it!"

He dug up a vodka bottle from under the counter and unscrewed the lid with an expert flick of his thumb. "You can bet I will be putting that on your brother's bill," he informed Sebastiano – whom the Swede had forced down on his knees, arms twisted behind his back - before taking a long swig of the clear liquid. "And if I didn't have a business relationship with Lovino, do you think you'd still be breathing in this fucking moment?!" Tino shook his head. "Seriously, what the fuck did you think you'd get out of this? I'd never give you shit. And if you had shot me, you'd have the Russians after your ass in no time, is that what you want? Maybe I should let them know about this anyway…"

"You wouldn't fucking dare-" the teen spat, struggling in Berwald's grip as Väinämöinen picked up his phone and started to type away.

"Wait! Wh't if someone heard 'nd r'ported the shot? The p'lice might show up in here!" the Swede pointed.

"Great, let them pick up the trash," Tino shrugged. "We'll just tell them 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me'-"

"You dumb fuck, if the police comes I'll tell them everything! Everything!" Sebastiano yelled. "Who you are, all that shit you have in the back, and this guy – what the fuck is up with this guy, huh?! Would anyone think he's working in a clothing store?!"

"What, he's handsome. And you were the one barging in here with a gun," Tino pointed with a smile. "I can't wait to see your brothers showing up to collect your ass from the station, considering that the police are looking for them already."

Berwald didn't catch what the Finn said next, still hung up on the sudden tightness in his stomach upon hearing the smaller blond referring to him as handsome. He knew, obviously, how incredibly stupid this was and that the other had not meant anything aside from irony even, but still the feeling lingered, fueled by Tino's perfect smile which promised all hell. And it looked like the Finn was aware that the police was looking to get their hands on the Vargas brothers, which only added to the danger of his own mission and the spike of twisted excitement at the thought.

Some ten minutes later the door opened again and Tino sighed in relief at the sight of the new visitor, a young man donning a long, black pea coat with rolled up sleeves over a thin, oversized t-shirt and skinny black jeans. A small, black fedora hat was perched on top of his head, contrasting with his light brown hair with reddish dyed strands, which was swiped back into a short ponytail.

"No one's coming, I checked," he said, taking off his shades and brushing the long bangs away from his forehead with thin, bony fingers.

"Thanks, Alin," the Finn replied and sighed deeply. "I'm really sorry that this shit had to happen today of all days… Lovino texted me that the Beilschmidts are already on their way to pick up the little troublemaker," he added shaking his head.

"Huh. So what did you want, kid? A new tie for prom?" the newcomer asked amused, his voice vaguely laced with a soft, East-European accent.

"Hey! You're that fucking vampire guy!" Sebastiano mocked him. "Isn't it kinda sunny for you to be out? What if you burst into flames or something?"

Alin grinned in a slightly disturbing fashion, leaning forward and tilting the teen's chin up with two black-nailed fingers. "You know, this joke is really getting old and shows your pathetic incapacity to come up with a proper insult, but to your credit at least you don't seem to have read Twilight," he observed.

"He wanted an AK-47," Tino specified.

"Well highschool's tough, at least it was back in my day," Alin laughed, straightening up and leaning on his elbows onto the counter. "The others will be coming soon, it's just that Arthur couldn't decide where to park the car. You know how he is… I see you've finally got some help?" he asked, throwing Berwald an assessing glance.

"Yep," the Finn confirmed. "Meet Berwald, he just got here from Sweden, all 'clean' and stuff," he said and smiled again, this time straight at the detective, who awkwardly muttered a greeting while freeing one of his hands to shake Alin's.

"So you just thought this place needed more of that Nordic charm you guys have," the other joked.

"Just admit you're into our Nordic charm big time, I know you swoon over Bondevik and that perfect Norwegian ass of his," Tino laughed. "You know, maybe you should ask him out to dinner sometime."

"I would ask him out to dinner, if only he wasn't a people-eating troll."

As it turned out, the Magic Club was a weird bunch. The Romanian Alin seemed to be barely out of his teens although it was a deceiving appearance and looked like some sort of creepy pop star, the Brit Arthur – the boss – was a hardcore Harry Potter fan with at least seven piercings (one in his tongue) and then there was Lukas Bondevik, the most beautiful (and horrible) person Berwald had ever laid eyes on. His eyes were a dark, almost violet blue which looked soulless and sent cold shivers down the detective's spine. And unlike the other two, who seemed cheerful and talkative, the Norwegian did not utter a single word, mostly ignoring Tino and his gaze trained intently on Berwald almost the whole time, carefully watching his every move and expression.

Thankfully, the trio didn't linger into the shop for more than some ten minutes, and when they were finally out the door with two duffel bags and a small guitar case the Swede couldn't hold back a sigh of relief and wiping the slight beads of sweat which had gathered just below his hairline.

"They're 'nteresting," he concluded, clearing his throat awkwardly as Tino crossed his arms and began tapping his foot, wondering out loud why the Vargas's bodyguards were taking so damn long.

"I guess," the Finn agreed.

"I couldn't f'gure out if the N'rwegian is a prostitute or a hired killer," Berwald blurted out truthfully, scratching his head and hoping his employer would not mind. "He was staring at me in a funny way, too…"

"He's probably both," Tino snorted. "Seriously though, they kinda look like a boy band, but they can be really scary when they want to be. You gotta be real tough to be an independent contractor and not belong to any established 'family'. At first I thought they were suspicious and, you know, that they might be undercover cops, but then I saw Arthur Kirkland execute a gang member in broad daylight. A cop wouldn't do that, right? Heh."

So Tino was well aware of the possibility of undercover cops sniffing around… of course he was. Everyone was. What had Berwald been thinking?! No, no, he'd been aware of the risks all along, but for some reason his senses felt anesthetized by the Finn's presence, in a way which could very easily spell his undoing if he let it get out of hand.

His musings were interrupted when a car stopped right in front of the shop's door, awkwardly half-perched on the sidewalk, and a tall, solid blond got off the passenger seat. He walked in, muttering some apology in a thick German accent while he roughly grabbed Sebastiano by the scruff of his neck, finally relieving Berwald of his charge.

"Let go of me, you ugly potato fuck!" the teen yelled, struggling and trying to kick the man in the shin.

"Mr. Vargas also hopes he'll be seeing you next veek, for a couple of drinks," the German told Tino, ignoring the troublemaker. "Ze usual spot, ja?"

The smaller blond nodded quickly. "Sure, we'll be there! Right, Ber?" he asked the detective with a wide smile. And with that one, innocent smile, the world as detective Berwald Oxenstierna knew it was about to be turned upside down for good.

To be continued