I SAW YOU (part 2)
A/N 1 – Hello my dear readers! Okay, so I'm updating once every million years, it's time I've accepted that :))))) (it comes with a full time, 10 hours per day job, it can't be helped). Anyway, moving past the irrelevant personal rant moment, enjoy the new chap ;)
Warnings: mentions of alcohol abuse, unfortunate mishaps and... some excitement
As plainly absurd as it was, Berwald found himself excited by the prospect of going out with his employer, beyond considering the obvious opportunity to gather information on the Italians while he was at it. As it was though, he was barely thinking of it and was inwardly panicking that Chief Inspector Adnan could sense it too, despite showing optimism at his regular reports. No, he was feeling almost jittery at the thought of seeing the Finn 'outside of work', although it wasn't exactly that – Väinämöinen was just 'networking' with his clients – and the Swede was painfully aware that he was dancing on the edge of doom. And why on earth was he suddenly overwhelmed by such unwanted feelings? When had they crept up upon him? The worst was he couldn't even tell anyone about this or ask for advice, it would have looked horribly unprofessional!
Tino didn't seem to be seeing anyone either, which only added to the detective's predicament. He knew the Finn was occasionally going out with the Russians – and the two girls he'd met back at the shooting range were nothing short of gorgeous! – but no particular involvement with any of them was apparent. None of them spent the night upstairs, they weren't even visiting him at the shop. But just on those grounds Berwald couldn't hope that Tino was in any way available, or that he was into men to start with, so simply letting himself fall prey to that not-so-innocently flirty air the gun dealer had about him sometimes was not only stupid but also extremely dangerous. Okay, it would have been dangerous anyway but as things were it was also dumb and a side of Berwald couldn't help revolting against this sudden dumbness.
"We're n't going out!" the detective grumbled under his breath, scowling, his fingers shaking slightly on the keys as he let himself into the shop. He was a bit late today (again struggling with the stupid issue of what to wear!), but curiously Tino wasn't in, or up yet. He sighed, throwing a glance around the place and wondering what he was supposed to do. Not disturb his employer, at any rate, if he was sleeping in.
His dilemma didn't last long though, as less than half an hour later some mumbled swears were heard at the door and a glance in that direction revealed Tino on the other side of the window, fumbling with his keys with one hand, while with the other he was leaning awkwardly against the doorframe.
Berwald rushed and opened the door which didn't actually need unlocking and caught the smaller blond in his arms just in time as the Finn slumped forward, eyelids dropping shut.
"TINO! ARE YOU H'RT?!" the detective demanded, lifting the other in his arms without a second thought.
"Mmmmpfff… dr'nk…" the gun dealer muttered, head dropping heavily against Berwald's shoulder. And then for some reason he started to chuckle, delicious dimples showing in his flushed cheeks and making him look endearingly childish and innocent.
"'m takin' you to bed," Berwald grumbled, looking away from the other's face and adjusting his grip on his body as he started towards the back, uncertain. He'd never been upstairs, into the small apartment Väinämöinen had above the shop, and the thought of intruding there, uninvited, made him nervous. Still, he went forward, past the drape behind the counter and into the back room, then, with a bit of a struggle, opened the one door he'd never been through.
It opened to a dark, narrow staircase of barely polished concrete with simple metal railing and in his anguish the Swede completely missed the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. Instead, he trudged upwards blindly with his burden, nearly stumbling when he reached the top and the sudden light blinded him as he pushed through the (fortunately unlocked) door. The two-room apartment was indeed crammed but surprisingly luminous and uncluttered and a vague dog food smell lingered in the narrow hallway, making the detective realize that he hadn't seen Hanatamago yet. Just then a sharp bark broke out and the white ball of fluff marched out of the bedroom, wagging its tail.
"Ughhh…" Tino groaned, scrunching his face at the sudden noise and shifting in his bodyguard's arms. "Ber…wald, I think I'm gonna-"
And then he vomited, while Berwald just stood there, motionless, head turned and eyes closed, and not quite able to believe this was actually happening.
"'m s-sorry…"
Christ!
The Swede steered towards the bathroom, delaying the moment in which he would have to face the awful mess. He carefully lowered the smaller blond into the bathtub and started the shower, ignoring the other's moaned protests as cold water hit him fully in the face. Good God, where to even start?! Before realizing, Berwald had already pulled his filthy shirt over his head and thrown it in the trash bin, thankful that it was his only clothing item to have been affected.
Tino's clothes however were another story. Fighting back the string of curses threatening to spill, the taller blond pulled them off the other's body, stripping him down to his boxers, and they went to join his own shirt in the bin (since Berwald's traumatized mind couldn't momentarily process the possibility of cleaning anything). The abundance of cold water he subsequently proceeded to shower on the Finn was enough to get him clean but not quite sober; still the detective decided that he could at least put the young man to bed now (but not before shoving the bottle of mouthwash into Tino's limp hand and firmly suggesting he should use it).
Eventually, he carried the smaller blond – now wrapped up in a large, fluffy towel – into the bedroom and lowered him onto the duvet, and that was when the door bell rang in the shop below, surprisingly loud.
Berwald flinched and turned automatically, storming out of the room – the place could not be left unguarded and he'd already made the grave mistake of leaving the front door unlocked. In the hallway he tripped onto one of Tino's shoes, which had gotten discarded on the way and nearly fell flat on his face.
Alin was waiting downstairs, elbows resting casually on the counter and an unlit cigarette dangling in one corner of his mouth.
"Tino's not answering his phone," the Romanian said cautiously. "Do you know where he is?"
"Bedroom," Berwald replied curtly, motioning with his head in the direction of the apartment.
"Oh," the other observed, eyes widening a bit and the quizzical once-over he gave the detective made him brusquely realize that he'd gone down shirtless and damp and now it looked like- Fuck.
"No, no," he said quickly, holding his hands up defensively. "He j'st got back, really dr'nk and threw up on my shirt while I was carrying him 'pstairs…"
Alin scowled for a split second, then lunged forward brusquely, pushing past the Swede in the direction of the stairs. "He can't be left alone in that state! He could choke on his own puke or something!" he cried, genuinely alarmed and making the other flinch.
Granted, Berwald didn't have that much experience with handling people drunk out of their mind to know all the risks. He followed the other back into the apartment, which the Romanian seemed to be fairly familiar with, and to the bedroom where Tino was asleep now, having somehow managed to crawl under the duvet for a change.
"Not what you signed up for, huh…" Alin observed fleetingly, motioning towards the bed. "Okay, stay with him and hold his head up a little higher, in case it happens again," he instructed. "I'm gonna go make him something light to eat for when he wakes up, like a soup or something, yeah?"
And then he was off, leaving the detective staring and rather baffled. He would never have imagined that Tino's clients actually cared so much about him, or maybe the 'Magic Club' members were more like his friends than just clients? Was that going to prove an additional complication in the general scheme of things? It was hard to tell at this point…
He sat down gingerly, awkwardness creeping upon him anew as he leaned in and pulled the Finn up, propping his shoulders slightly against the pillows. This sort of closeness surely wasn't helping, nor seeing the gun dealer so endearingly vulnerable for once, in striking contrast with the tough front from before. Asleep, Tino looked almost angelic and Berwald's calloused fingertips couldn't help ghosting over the pale forehead, gently brushing away the damp bangs and going on to trail through the light blonde strands, tucking ruffled ends behind the other's ear.
"Oh my god, you're such a dad…" Alin laughed and the sudden observation made the Swede snap out of his musings and realize he'd been sitting there for some time now, lost in contemplation. A pleasant smell wafted from the kitchen and there was a steaming bowl of vegetable soup in the young man's hands, which he carefully deposited on the nightstand along with some paper tissues. "Do you have kids?"
"…no," Berwald grunted, reflecting on how his tough guy image had just gone down the drain. Still, the other had gone through the trouble of cooking, so that had to be worse. "You?"
"Nah… I just have a perfect face and a perfect heart," the Romanian explained with a grin. "Anyway, when he wakes up tell him to check the messages on his phone, if he still has it. See you guys later."
Some fifteen minutes later the Finn stirred under the covers, groaned and proceeded to grace his bodyguard with a sleepy but still quizzical glance. Berwald still hadn't thought to look for a shirt to put on (Väinämöinen's clothing probably didn't fit him anyway), but the other's eyes were on his face now, intently searching his own for a long moment before the younger spoke.
"What happened?" he murmured, gaze finally trailing over the Swede's bare torso and to the bowl of soup. He blinked quickly and narrowed his eyes, as if the picture before him just wasn't adding up.
The taller blond poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to come up with the proper phrasing. What if Tino was sensitive and easily offended? This could blow everything up and he couldn't afford any mistakes. Meanwhile, Tino pulled away and sat up, scratching his head.
"Wait, did I-… throw up on you?"
"Yeah, on-…" Berwald confirmed, making a vague gesture with his hand. "Anyway, Alin was here j'st now 'nd he made you s'me soup," he said quickly, willing away the growing discomfort. "Also, he said you should check up your-"
Oh. Tino's phone was probably in the trash bin, together with his puked on clothing. Shit. Still, Berwald had no choice but to inform him about it.
"Fuck… okay. I-I'm really sorry about that," Tino muttered, throwing the covers aside with a hasty gesture and sliding off the bed. "I'm gonna take care of everything, okay? And I'll get you something to wear."
Berwald thought it had been oddly sweet of the Finn to apologize for the 'accident', he hadn't thought the other would do it at all (in substance he didn't seem to actually give an awful lot of fucks about it), but lo and behold, only two days after the mishap there were solid chances it would happen all over again. They were now at the shady club the Vargas brothers had invited them the week before and Tino sure wasn't holding back on his Vodka.
The Swede had been abandoned at a recluse table in the suspicious company of the Magic Club, while his employer was off to talk to the two Italian brothers at the bar. In private, he'd said, even though the place was fairly crowded and the music really loud. But that was what made it inconspicuous, sort of, the detective concluded.
"Mate, it was tough that you had to 'babysit' the other day," Arthur Kirkland said, taking a pensive sip of his whiskey.
"Pffff, takes a tough guy to take care of that mess," Alin laughed. "And all that pampering…"
Again, the Norwegian was disturbingly quiet, just watching Berwald intently. 'I see you' said those dark indigo eyes, like a soundless whisper of suspicion. He gulped down some of his own drink, nervous – maybe he was only imagining things. But even if the other was suspicious of him, what could he know?
"Did you get to see his tattoo?" the Englishman asked suddenly. "Ah, mate, you should have seen it, it's something else!" he stated when the detective shook his head. "It's really… not what you'd expect of that bunny… hehe. Got his two nicknames from it though."
"Nicknames?"
"Yeah," Alin supplied. "Like, some people call him Santa but, well, others call him Reaper. But he's kinda both really. He got it in prison, a while ago, and held up to the names. Like a personal brand, how cool is that?"
"In pris'n?"
Now this was strange, because he'd run up Väinämöinen's name through the database and nothing had come up, the Finn had a clean record. Or maybe Väinämöinen wasn't his real name? Something had to be up with these people, because he'd found nothing on the Russians either, the name Braginski just didn't show anywhere…
"Yeah, back in Finland," Kirkland clarified. "He did time for armed robbery when he was… well, I don't know if he was eighteen yet. The shop owner thought he was a nice kid, until he got naughty and drew out a Kalashnikov," he laughed.
Berwald jolted when a heavy hand landed in the middle of his back, nearly making him knock over his glass, in the next moment Tino slipping into the seat beside him with a huff. "Were you talking shit about me?" he asked Arthur, motioning with the Vodka bottle clutched in his hand.
"Nah, just telling big guy here what a piece of candy you are, not that he hasn't seen it already. You should at least buy him a drink for that!"
"And me!" the Romanian added, with a fake scowl.
Tino ignored them. "You have?" he asked his bodyguard, fingers abandoning the bottle and coming to rest on the Swede's arm. His sleeve was rolled up and the Finn's fingers were damp and cool against his skin, and light like snowflakes. His lilac eyes had an odd gleam about them in the flickering lights as they bore into Berwald's, before he craned his neck up to whisper in the taller blond's ear.
"Let's go in the back," he murmured, almost inaudibly.
The detective reached automatically for his glass and took a large, awkward gulp, willing away the sudden flutter in his stomach. Was he hearing things?
"…what?"
"I've noticed how you look at me."
Berwald froze in place, his brain going on overdrive with the effort of finding something suitable to say in reply, some denial of sorts because right now he was fucked, or being fucked with and for all he knew the Finn could just be messing with him for the mere sake of his drunken fun. But nothing came to him, his mouth remained clamped shut and his body immobile, even if inside he was shaking, and when Tino's hand slipped under his sweaty palm, getting a grip on it and pulling him from the table, he complied meekly, feeling utterly powerless.
To be continued
