Archive of Our Own ^beta

Artemy doesn’t stop to think about the consequences of his actions, he just does them. It’s a running habit of his, this acting without thinking. It’s what got him into the mess that’s gotten him into the mess he’s in right now. But Dankovsky’s not complaining, and Artemy knew he wouldn’t. That’s reason number two he picked Daniil to hook up with: the man has a reputation, and he’s currently living up to it.

He’d seriously considered not following through with his plan. Just seeing the look of utter disgust on Stakh’s face when he started chatting up Daniil, the accompany rage when he slung an arm over Daniil’s shoulder and left with him – that was enough. Stakh would put two and two together whether Artemy chose to go any farther or not, but Daniil’s clearly into it and the way he’s been sucking on Artemy’s tongue and grinding against his thigh has gotten him all riled up. Artemy’s never taken someone home like this before, but hey: there’s a first time for everything.

Daniil’s rather bold for this being Artemy’s apartment and for being nearly a head shorter. He’s got Artemy pushed up against his wall, hands on Artemy’s hips and pulling back from their kiss to bite into Artemy’s neck. He’s good at this, Artemy will give him that, chest fluttering a little more with each nip. “Bedroom?” The word comes out growled, and Artemy feels his throat tighten around his swallow when he nods in the direction of his room.

Daniil doesn’t see it, of course, too busy bruising Artemy’s neck. “Down the hall, to the left,” Artemy mumbles out. He feels Daniil hook two fingers under the waistband of his jeans before he gives a tug, pulling him along.

His room could use some cleaning – mostly just picking up the junk laying all around, but it wouldn’t hurt to dust the place either. The longer he stares, the more embarrassed he gets to have someone back here, but he didn’t exactly plan all this out. He’d simply seen Daniil standing there, staring at him, and the plan built itself as he made his way over. Dankovsky doesn’t seem to mind the state of his room, removing his shoes first and sliding that horrible snakeskin coat from his shoulders. He is, Artemy thinks, and not for the first time ever, really quite handsome, especially when he pushes his hair back out of his face to reveal his pretty brown eyes.

“Have you been tested recently?”

Artemy blinks, momentarily distracted in watching him strip the gloves from his hands. He’s never seen the man without them, even at social events like the one they attended tonight. He feels mesmerized by the movement. They’re just hands, he thinks, but there’s some sort of mystery to them. They’re as pale as the rest of his body, but what Artemy wonders is how they feel against bare skin.

The thought makes his cock throb. And here he thought he wouldn’t be able to follow through on taking Daniil home. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “Last week. Came back negative.” Daniil smirks at him, and pushes him back until his knees hit the bed.

He gets the picture. He sits down. “Good.” Daniil drops to his knees, pushing Artemy’s thighs apart and undoing his button and fly. Artemy lifts his hips so Daniil can roll the band of his boxers down to free his half-hard cock. “And you’re sure you want to do this?” Daniil asks. His fingers wrap around Artemy’s shaft, stroking him slowly. Artemy nods, eyes fixed on Daniil’s hand moving on his cock. God, his hands are so soft. A little cold, but the difference between the heat of his body and the touch of Daniil’s fingers only makes it better for him. Another thing he didn’t know he was into. “Good,” Daniil says again, and wraps his lips around the head.

It’s been a while since Artemy’s had a blow job. His knuckles tighten on his bedspread for a moment before he sees Daniil’s fringe fall back on his forehead. Artemy pushes his hair back out of his face and tries to keep from bucking up into his mouth. Daniil’s cheeks hollow, sliding down his length, cool fingers squeezing his balls as he takes another inch in. His tongue curls as he pulls up and licks along the slit, his eyes fluttering open to look at Artemy as he sucks hard on the tip of his cock. Artemy’s hips roll into Daniil’s mouth, and Daniil hums. Artemy half expects Daniil to make him hold still as he blows him, but each little involuntarily jerk of his hips is rewarded with noise in the back of his throat. Daniil pulls back, off almost all the way, and slides back down, taking Artemy into his throat.

And he swallows.

“Jesus,” Artemy hisses, hand tight in Daniil’s hair and hips bucking up into Daniil’s mouth. He’s sure Daniil would laugh if his mouth wasn’t currently full of Artemy’s cock. He tugs the strands between his fingers and Daniil moans around him.

Daniil pulls off with a lewd pop, spit trailing from the tip of Artemy’s cock to Daniil’s shining lips. He leans back in to start kissing at him, from the base of his cock up to his tip. “Would you like to go further?” He asks. Whatever you want, Artemy thinks. His lips move back down, sucking on his balls and stroking him with his left hand and Artemy can’t think straight or answer when he’s doing that. He finds himself nodding stupidly instead when Daniil can’t even see him, and has to nod again when the other man’s eyes are turned toward him. Daniil stands, and Artemy watches him undo the buckle around his pants and start to slip them off.

Artemy just watches him for a moment, only belatedly remembering to remove his own clothes. He dips his thumbs under the waistband of his pants and shimmies out of them, cock jutting out ridiculously as he moves. For a moment he just stares at Daniil’s bare, wet thighs, and thinks about putting his face between them.

Daniil doesn’t give him the chance. He kneels over top of Artemy, starting to crawl over him as Artemy moves himself further up the bed. “I have condoms,” Artemy blurts out, which probably would have been a good thing to announce earlier. Daniil doesn’t seem particularly bothered. He tilts his head, and it takes Artemy a moment to register that Daniil is waiting on him to make a move. He fumbles through his nightstand for the box. It’s been a while since he needed them, and he’s only got two left. He hopes to god they’re not expired.

When he turns back, Daniil’s covering his sex with his hand, raising and lowering himself. Fingering himself, Artemy realizes, to open up and take him in. Artemy stares, just watches for him work, admiring the soft shut of his eyes and part to his lips, the way his head is angled to reveal his neck and a little of his collar. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone. Artemy contemplates ripping the rest of them off, having him totally naked.

He doesn’t think he could handle it. He’s never really entertained the thought before of just how attractive Daniil is, too caught up in other emotions for other people. But tonight, Daniil is here, and he’ll spend this time appreciating what’s in front of him.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Artemy startles. Daniil’s looking at him with his eyes half-lidded, lips curled into a smirk. Artemy fumbles, ripping open the package and rolling on the condom as Daniil watches him. Daniil takes him by the base and hovers over him, pressing the tip between his folds. Artemy swallows as he watches, setting his hands on Daniil’s thighs. Daniil takes him in easily, quickly, sitting in his lap and squeezing around him. He doesn’t give Artemy a moment to adjust to the heat of his body before he’s moving his hips, rocking himself on and off Artemy’s cock. His movements are fast enough to make the bed under them creak, and Artemy can’t control the helpless ways his hips buck up to meet Daniil’s. He pulls his knees up and moves his hands to Daniil’s ass, while Daniil dips his head down to bite at his neck again.

The sharp sting on his neck curls a new thread of arousal in him, gripping Daniil tightly as he works his hips up, slapping against Daniil’s body. Daniil moans loudly against his skin, bouncing faster on his lap. Daniil’s walls squeeze around his cock and Artemy lets out a groan, trying to hold Daniil down by the hips so he can fuck up into him. Daniil gasps out and rocks, lifts his chest back up, setting his hands on Artemy’s stomach. He pushes himself up to change the angle, and Artemy watches him bite his bottom lip.

Daniils fingers curl and tense on the fabric of his sweater, and works in sharp thrusts to feel the way tugs against the back of his neck. Daniil’s mouth falls open as Artemy’s hips snap, and he watches the man start to mumble before he hears the words. “Yes, yes –“ Daniil grinds and rocks back on Artemy’s prick until he gasps, loud, cunt gripping him tight. He moans and chokes out little words through his orgasm, Artemy letting his grip relax as he bucks up into him.

His own climax feels frustratingly close, but he’s hesitant about continuing when Daniil’s already come. Daniil’s eyes open halfway, pretty mouth parted and bruised from the way he’s bitten into it. He hums, only still for a second before starting up his movements once again. “Very polite of you to let me cum first,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss Artemy’s jaw. His body still pulses around Artemy’s cock as he slides up and down on him, slick with his own cum. “But I want to know what sort of noises you make when you’re on edge.”

It doesn’t take him long to pick up a ridiculously fast pace, his pussy still clenching as he works himself on Artemy’s dick. Artemy’s nails dig into his thighs, pressure building in his balls and heavy gasps leaving his chest as Daniil moves. His stomach tightens, heat coiling inside until he hisses the word “Fuck”, hips jerking up into Daniil’s body as he starts releasing, dizzy.

Daniil waits until he’s coming down from his climax to climb off of him, pulling the condom off and moving up to dispose of it. Artemy breathes heavy, hand on his chest, suddenly kicking in that he has no idea what to do next. What did people do after one-night stands? Were they supposed to talk now? Would Daniil leave? But Daniil rejoins him on the bed, one leg thrown over Artemy’s, his cunt wet against Artemy’s thigh. He sets his hand on Artemy’s stomach and kisses his chest, surprisingly affectionate, all things considered. “How many more condoms have you got?”

A strange question, Artemy thinks. The connotation doesn’t form in his head at first, even as Daniil’s hand starts to sink lower on his stomach. “One,” he answers.

“Well then,” Daniil says, leaving kisses around his collar, “We’ll have to make it count.”

Artemy’s exhausted the next morning, the kind of way he only ever gets after sex. It would be enough without having gone at it three times, and he can see now how Dankovsky got the reputation that he has. He doesn’t like to think of himself as someone who so easily believes in rumors, though he would have felt a pit of anxiety and self-deserved admonishment in his stomach had Daniil turned him down. But it’s not just easiness that turned out to be true: the sex was, indeed, pretty damn great.

It’s Daniil’s early shift at the hospital and Artemy’s day off. He sits up blurry-eyed when he feels the bed move and hears Daniil redressing, years of waking up from nightmares and catching quick naps on hospital beds turning him to a light sleeper. Absently he wonders if he should have gotten up earlier, mumbling through a yawn, “You want me to make you breakfast?”

Daniil runs a hand through his hair, and smirks. Artemy feels him leering down at where the sheet’s fallen from his chest to his lap. He’s suddenly aware he’s very naked, and feels a tinge of self-consciousness. Which is stupid in front of the man he’d been fucking last night, but the human condition is nothing if not a well of contradictions. “No, I’ll be fine,” Daniil says, fidgeting with his buckle. “Isn’t it your day off?” Artemy nods. “Then go back to sleep. It’s not like I won’t see you again.”

So he does. For all of about fifteen minutes, before his phone buzzes on his nightstand.

Dad
6:32 A.M.
Just saw Danko leaving
your apartment. I knew
the two of you would
get along! ;-)

Ugh. How could he forget Isidor Burakh’s famous attempts to set his son up with the hospital’s top doctor? Not that Dankovsky had especially enjoyed the approach much either, but his shitty attitude had sure turned around somewhere along the line, and Artemy guesses he hasn’t been as much of a pain in the ass to work with recently. Whatever the case may be, he’s not about to explain the concept of a one-night-stand to his dad.

Unless that’s what he’d been thinking of all along, which would somehow be worse.

Me
6:38 A.M.
The kids o.k.?

He taps away from his texting app and onto one for his notes. He writes down condoms on his grocery list. Though the way things have been going recently, he doubts he’ll need them again for another eight months.

Shouldn’t he be feeling something? Shame, maybe, or pride, or even hurt. But flicking around on his apps to his messages – there’s nothing from Stakh. The last message from Lara is still a picture of Yulia’s cat stuffed into a hideous sweater. The last text from Grief is some sort of meme he’s managed to miss out on. And the last message in the thread with Stakh wasn’t even from the man himself, but from Artemy - a month ago, now. Sorry if I made things awkward between us. No reassurances, no show of camaraderie. He’d disabled receipts and wouldn’t let himself turn them back on to see if the man had even read what he’d sent. Stakh wouldn’t even bring it up in person, and avoids meeting Artemy’s gaze.

After last night, he’d expected something. Very mature, Burakh. A berating for his choices, any kind of reaction. A dismissal. Something snide about his choice in partner. Any kind of sign that he gave a shit at all. But of course that was asking too much from the guy who’d given him a panicked look at his confession and blurted out, half-hostile, “I’m not gay.” Like he hadn’t been Artemy’s first kiss. Like Artemy hadn’t already been out to him. Like two decades of companionship and understanding meant nothing to him.

Dad
6:42 A.M.
Nothing to worry about,
glad you had fun! You
should do that more
often.

God. If only his dad knew what he was suggesting. And alright, Dankovsky isn’t exactly a stranger he’d picked up at a bar, but sleeping with a coworker has to be frowned upon. Even if they worked in two different jurisdictions, he can’t imagine people wouldn’t be talking when he went into work. Daniil is probably used to the gossip, revered as he is like a minor celebrity, but Artemy is far more subdued. The most he usually got talked about was in reference to his father, asked on occasion how the man was enjoying his retirement.

Well enough to agree to watch the kids while I have a hookup with a colleague. Artemy smacks his pillow a little harder than intended, mind still drifting to what he now guesses he can call his ex-best friend. Well, if that’s what Stakh’s going to be like, then Artemy can just invest in a new best friend. He’s still got Lara, and Grief, and coworkers who don’t leave him on read. And if Stakh wants to try and fix things, Artemy will be here to accept his apology.

Two weeks pass, and nothing changes. Whatever Stakh may have thought about Artemy’s hookup, he’s kept it to himself. Which just pains Artemy all the more – they used to tell each other everything, and now getting Rubin to talk is like pulling teeth. He guesses that’s a reaction in itself. Rubin won’t tell him off for sleeping with Daniil, but he’ll turn his back on Artemy in a heartbeat. Though with how little they talked beforehand, Artemy doesn’t see that much of a difference.

“I don’t know why you’re still bitchin’ and moanin’ about Stakh.” Grief’s got one leg propped up on their seat, chin rested in the palm of their hand, leaning forward on the table. Artemy’s been flipping through his phone the whole time they’ve been here, but he knows it’s no use. He’s got texts from Andrey, from Lara and Grief, and even two from Dankovsky, and still nothing from Rubin. “You’ve got better options, mate. What’s so great about Stanislav, anyhow?”

It would be hard to explain to Grief. Pointless, even. They’d all known each other as kids, but Grief had fallen out with them all for the longest time, only making their way back recently. Stakh hadn’t forgiven them that, even when Grief made peace with Lara. It would have been hard for Artemy not to, given that Grief occupied the Emergency Room often enough to have their own intel on workplace gossip. More of it, really, than any patient should. “He’s my best friend,” Artemy begins.

“And what am I, Cub? An empty bus seat?” Artemy rolls his eyes. Grief takes another long drink from their mug of beer. “If that’s what you’re calling a best friend, I think you need a new one. Hint, hint.”

“Hint taken,” Artemy says. He sighs, and drops his phone on the table, running his hand through his hair. “Did I tell you I –“ and then he stops. How much information is too much information to share with Grief? They’re practically on top of the table now, tapping at the center with their fingers, eyebrows raised. “I fucked Dankovsky.” Grief’s mouth drops open. Artemy feels the blush rise up his cheeks. The way Grief is looking at him, he almost feels proud of this accomplishment. Almost. “Picked him up at that work get-together. Took him home.”

Grief stares, grey eyes wide and unmoving. They roll their wrist impatiently in Artemy’s direction. “Don’t leave me hangin’, Cub.” Artemy ducks his head, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. Grief responds by slapping the table. “Details, details! How was it?”

Artemy feels his whole face broken out in a horrifyingly bright blush. The last person he shared details of his sex life to was Lara, because he knew how Grief would get, and Stakh was just…weird about it. But he’s almost entirely sure Lara wouldn’t want to hear about this (and if Stakh wasn’t vocally judging him for his choices, Lara definitely would), and he’s got to talk to someone about it. “It was pretty damn good,” he says. Grief grins. It just eggs him on. “Made me come three times. Had to buy more condoms.”

“Oh?” Their attempt at waggling their eyebrows fails hilariously, and Artemy snorts.

“Well, to be fair, I only had two left.” Grief nods. Artemy’s mind is temporarily preoccupied with the memories of that night, of how good it had felt to just forget everything, the weight of Dankovsky’s body next to his in the bed, the boneless feeling of his own body… Grief waves a hand in front of Artemy’s face, and he flushes. “Sorry. Just – reminiscing, you know.”

“I can’t believe you managed to pull Daniil Dankovsky, minor celebrity and sex machine, and you’re still thinking about Stanislav Rubin. Of all the people to pine over. Have I told you yet you’ve got shit taste?” And there they go, showing off that information they shouldn’t even have access to. Artemy glowers, but Grief ignores him. There’s foam on their upper lip when they pull back from the glass again. “Seriously, Artemy. People are climbing on top of themselves to get to Daniil’s dick. You get there in one shot, and you’re wasting your time thinking about Stakh? You could be getting laid right now.”

He really couldn’t. Daniil’s on shift at the moment, but he’s not about to argue semantics with Grief. It’s not often his rambunctious friend makes a decent point, but here he is with one all the same. “You got me there,” Artemy admits, finally picking up his glass to take a sip. “He does this thing with his tongue – I don’t know how. It should be illegal, the things he can do.”

“So? You know how the saying goes.” Artemy’s unfortunately certain that he knows which one. “In order to get over someone, get under someone else.” They gesture to the door. “So go hit your side piece up and have some fun. Get lost in the sheets ‘til you can’t remember Stakh’s name.”

Artemy scrunches his nose. “I don’t think you know what the term ‘side piece’ means.” Grief rolls their eyes at him. Semantics, again. Artemy lets his thoughts wander for a moment, considering how he’d approach Daniil about it. He’s got the man’s phone number, though they’ve only texted about work before. It would probably be rude to solicit him over text like that, so maybe in person. He could always go up and try, So, two weeks ago. That was fun, right? We should try it again sometime. Or perhaps he could come up with something else that would make him sound a little less like a loser. “You know, I think you’re right,” he says all the same, sitting upright in his seat. “Even if it doesn’t get my mind off of Stakh, maybe it’ll help me get some of my confidence back.”

“There you go, Cub. That’s the spirit.” Grief claps him on the back so hard he nearly chokes on his next sip of beer. “Get your dick wet and get back in the saddle. And when you’re done, you can have any guy you want. Problem solved.”

Problem solved indeed. So why doesn’t Artemy feel any better?

Artemy has a singularly unique experience in trying to ask Dankovsky for a repeat. First, he has to find the man, which in itself is unusual. Daniil’s usually difficult to miss, between the black lab coat and his general demeanor. Somebody usually knows where he is, whether they really want to or not. If he didn’t know better (and at least he thinks he knows better), he’d suspect Daniil was trying to avoid him. But as far as he can tell, they’ve only had pleasant interactions for the entire past year. They haven’t even argued in three months! Hell, if he thought Daniil did friendships, he’d almost think they were work friends, at least.

He does finally manage to track him down, making rounds in the ICU. What he’s doing there, Artemy doesn’t bother asking. Daniil Dankovsky does whatever he wants to, and people generally just have to learn to deal with it. At least the people in this room are unconscious, so Artemy doesn’t feel as bad about approaching him.

Then he has to make his way, messily, through his words. He’d taken time to try and prepare himself to say something, running over in his head exactly what he should say. “How’s the New Year treating you?”

Daniil didn’t react at all at first, flipping through a chart nonchalantly. Artemy stood there, waiting, until it occurred to him that perhaps the man had not heard him. So he tapped Daniil on the shoulder, and waited for him to turn around, brows raised. “Hey. Uh,” Artemy cleared his throat. “How’s it – the new year. How’s it going so far?”

“It’s going alright,” he mumbled, eyes going back to the chart in front of him. “Our usual case rates are up. Figured I’d come up here to get a chance to think.” Right. Always business with him. “What are you doing here, Burakh?”

Back to the formalities at work. Artemy shoved his hands into his pockets to try and calm his nerves, fingers curled into fists. “I wanted to ask you something. Something not-work related.” Daniil blinked in what might have been surprise. “If that’s alright with you?” Daniil nodded, and Artemy cleared his throat, suddenly anxious again. “So, ah.” Now that he was there to say it, the words just seemed to disappear. He bit his lip, and shifted. “So – you know, at that holiday party?” Daniil nodded. “You know… after the party?” Daniil’s eyelids slid down, and he nodded again. So things were looking alright. “I was thinking, uh.” Filler words? Really? “We should do that again.”

Daniil hummed then, and clicked his pen a couple times. He went back to looking at sheet for a second, and then looked back up to catch Artemy’s eyes. “You want to do that again?” Artemy nodded. And without any trace of irony or humor, Daniil said, “Buy me dinner first.”

To Artemy’s knowledge, it’s the only time Daniil has ever made that request. Everyone knows about his tendencies, the way he’s not exactly discriminatory in his choice of sexual partners. He slept with Andrey, one of the nurses, for months, a fact well-known throughout the hospital, and never once had he heard of Daniil demanding someone for a date. The shock must have been evident on Artemy’s face, and Daniil only brushed past him to go out into the hospital. Artemy thought quickly, grabbing his forearm and asking, “When?”

So that’s how he ends up here, at a classy restaurant, wearing the best clothes he could find in his closet, having a dinner date with Daniil Dankovsky.

Daniil is dressed up far fancier than Artemy is, with a vest and cravat and everything. He feels almost sloppy as he sits down across from Daniil, pulling the cloth napkin into his lap. Daniil orders a bottle of wine while Artemy looks over the menu, and Artemy, never one to overlook a chance to stick his foot straight into his mouth, blurts out the first thing to come to mind. “Why the hell are we doing this?”

He notices a flicker of something like disappointment in Daniil’s eyes, but doesn’t have the time to comment or even really process it before it’s replaced by practiced easiness. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” Daniil starts, and pauses as the waiter fills their glasses. It’s an awkward moment, before he clears his throat and starts again. “You’re using me to get back at Stakh.” Artemy feels the rug pulled very much out from under him. His mouth must be open as he stares at Daniil, but the victory he expects to see in the other man’s eyes simply isn’t there. “So I think I should also get something out of it.”

“Sex,” Artemy blurts out. Daniil gives him a condescending look, and he’s never felt so stupid in his life. “I mean, isn’t that what you get out of it? You’re not known for being, uh.” Use a good word here, Burakh. “Picky.” Fan-fucking-tastic.

“I see.” His words are clipped. “That really is all you think there is to me, then.” Artemy half expects him to get up and leave, but despite the thin line his lips form, he only sighs and stares down that the table. “Well, then. If that’s all you think I have going for me, then also consider this punishment.”

“Punishment?”

“For ignoring me all year, for starters.” Artemy blinks at him, flabbergasted. Ignoring him? They’ve been working perfectly fine together, what in the world was he talking about? Daniil rolls his eyes at Artemy, huffing. “Don’t try playing innocent with me, Burakh. I’ve been flirting shamelessly with you all year. You finally pick up on that when it’s convenient for you, and then you blow me off for two weeks. So, yes. Consider buying me dinner retribution for your playing hard to get. I don’t appreciate it.”

Artemy feels almost flattered by the notion that Daniil already wanted him. Grief hadn’t been lying when they’d said people fawned all over the man. People threw themselves at Daniil, and he batted them away so effortlessly when he didn’t want them. Except, Artemy couldn’t think of a single time he got the impression Daniil had been hitting on him. Then again, he’d been too focused on Stakh to notice. And too focused on Stakh, again, to really pay mind to the fact that he was blowing Daniil off at work. So maybe those texts weren’t all work-related.

“I’m sorry,” Artemy mumbles out.

Daniil manages to look like he’s not all that bothered by it, though the very energy he radiates tells Artemy he is. He shrugs, his voice as calm as it ever is. “Ubi amor, ibi dolor. Nothing for you to apologize about. But yes, if you’d like to have sex, buy me dinner first.”

And that’s it. The rest of the date, if Artemy can call it that, passes by as if the whole situation is normal. It’s not bad by any definition of the term, but it’s beyond bizarre for him to see Daniil in this context. It’s strange to see him in any context that isn’t the work he devotes himself to 24/7.

The conversation between them is a little stilted. They talk about work, mostly, because Dankovsky does not seem to be able to talk about much else. But at the end of the night, they take a taxi back to Daniil’s place, and Daniil puts his hand so far up Artemy’s thigh it’s nearly on his dick. Somehow, Artemy had forgotten what the dinner was really about, what it was really revving up for, and now he’s nervous. Daniil squeezes his thigh, and arousal spikes in his stomach. He just hopes it’s not obvious as they make their way up to Daniil’s flat.

He manages to save the really lewd stuff for when he’s got Artemy pinned against the wall, kissing his jaw. This is his own home, at least, though in the dark Artemy can’t make out much of it. Daniil gropes him through his trousers, and he bucks into the man’s hand, moving his head so that their mouths line up. “Bedroom,” Artemy says, voice low, and Daniil grabs him by the neck of his sweater and further back into the apartment.

His room is as darkly decorated as Artemy thought it would be, and slightly more disorganized. Books and papers litter every surface top – the bedside table, the dresser, and especially the desk in the corner. Daniil drops his own clothes haphazardly on the floor, starting with the heavy coat, and moving onto the vest. Artemy strips the sweater from his head to kill some time, but finds himself staring at Daniil’s crotch when he’s finished.

“Something I can interest you in?” The man asks coyly.

Artemy flushes. “I wanted to try something,” he mutters. Daniil’s shirt is halfway unbuttoned now, the scars under his chest peeking through. Artemy motions for him to sit on the bed, and kneels in front of him. Daniil’s pretty brown eyes blow up. “Only if you want to,” Artemy says, but Daniil’s thumbs dip below the waistband of his pants and shimmy out of them. Artemy pushes his thighs apart and kisses the inside, moving his lips to Daniil’s sex. He’s swollen already, and when Artemy presses his tongue between the folds he finds him wet as well. Daniil’s gloved hand goes to his hair, grip tight as Artemy laps at him.

He runs his tongue up to the man’s cock and wraps his lips around it, reveling in the way Daniil ruts his cunt against his face. He pulls back wetly, dropping his head back down to kiss Daniil’s pussy and press his tongue between Daniil’s folds, rolling his tongue insistently. Daniil keens, and grinds, and Artemy lets him. He moves back and starts kissing down again, almost to his hole, and slowly back up. He slides his tongue along Daniil’s folds and up his cock, taking it into his mouth, sucking hard.

Daniil pulls his legs up, and Artemy presses in until his nose hits pubic hair, tugging at him with his lips. He pulls back again, feeling slick collect against his lips as he leaves open-mouthed kisses against his sex. Daniil lets a quiet affirmation past his lips and Artemy presses his tongue back inside, letting Daniil grind against it. He can tell Daniil’s close by the noises that he makes, by the way he tugs on his hair and by the way his thighs shake. He kisses up to his cock and pulls it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around, and presses two fingers between his folds. Daniil’s eager entrance pulls them in, squeezing as Artemy spreads and thrusts his fingers. Daniil gives a little cry as Artemy’s tongue swirls around his cock, and in a second he starts to pulse around Artemy’s fingers.

Artemy pulls back and wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand. His cock is straining against the front of his trousers now, aching to be touched. Daniil looks down at him from where he still sits on the bed, legs splayed and chest heaving. He lurches forward, opening his bedside table. Artemy stands in time for Daniil to shove a condom in his hand. “You should fuck me while I’m still throbbing,” he says. “Use my cum as lubricant.” He pulls off his shirt and vest and finally the gloves while Artemy strips from his pants, rolling on the condom and hovering over him on the bed.

He cock slips easily between Daniil’s folds, still wet from Artemy’s mouth. He presses the tip of his cock to Daniil’s entrance and feels himself being tugged in. He steadies himself on Daniil’s thighs as he sinks inside, gasping as Daniil’s body grabs at him. His hips buck, and he opens his mouth to apologize but is cut off by Daniil’s soft groan. It feels too good not to roll his hips again, grunting at the way that heat curls around him.

His eyes flutter open, unaware he’d even let them close, and sees Daniil’s hair flared out on the bed around him, pale chest heaving under Artemy’s shadow. Artemy rocks his hips and watches that body move against the sheets. His hips work automatically, starting up a brisk pace. He watches Daniil’s eyes close, fingers curling in the bedsheets, expression going slack with pleasure.

It’s gratifying, to see his partner enjoying it so much. How long has it been since he’s had sex, good sex, if this is really doing it for him? His hips thrust sharply, and Daniil’s head cocks, lips falling open in a little whimper. Artemy feels a sudden and base desire to see Daniil’s face lax in orgasm, and lets that desire take control. He fucks into Daniil fast to hear the way he whines, to see the way his chest arches off the bed. His cunt squeezes tight around Artemy’s cock, and the word “Please” escapes his mouth, shifting his hips. Artemy takes a hold of them, Daniil’s knees locking around his back as he drives into him with force. Daniil lets out an aborted cry and his chest jerks, one hand moving from the sheets to Artemy’s shoulder. His nails dig into his Artemy’s skin as he shouts, loud in Artemy’s ear as his body spasms, moving into his second climax. Artemy gasps and nearly stops entirely as his own takes hold of him, spots in front of his eyes as his hips work erratically.

He feels as though his orgasm lasts for an hour, but he knows that’s far too long. He doesn’t have a frame of reference for what ‘a lot’ of cum looks like, but he’s fairly certain the weight of the latex is more than he’s used to when he pulls out. Daniil doesn’t comment on it, and neither does he, simply tying off the condom as he dumps it in the bin. He turns back to see Daniil with his legs spread, thighs wet and pussy pink with use. He gets the urge to rub it, to slip his fingers inside see how much of Daniil’s cum he can find, to see if he can move him to a third orgasm. But he sits on the bed instead, next to Daniil, and wonders if he should kiss him.

“You’re good at this, Artemy. I’ll give you that,” Daniil says. Artemy watches him fish around his bedside table again, producing a pack of cigarettes from inside. He offers one to Artemy, but Artemy shakes his head with his hand out. Daniil shrugs, turning back for a lighter. “Most men I fuck don’t care if I come. I spend most of the night trying to make that first orgasm happen. Some nights it doesn’t happen at all.” He messes around with some of the papers on the nightstand, revealing an ash tray underneath. He flicks some ash into it.

“Yeah?” Artemy leans back on the bed. “Well, it’s important to me to make the person I’m with feel good, no matter what I have to do to achieve that.” He frowns. “If you don’t like something I’m doing, just tell me. I’d rather be told I’m doing it wrong than just…not pleasure someone.”

Daniil hums. “Stakh doesn’t know what he’s missing.” It’s probably meant in good faith, but the idea of talking about him now, after doing that, makes Artemy uncomfortable. He looks away, tongue on his lips, but he feels toes nudging his thigh. He looks up to see Daniil giving him a bizarrely genuine look, smoke curling from between his lips. “I am being serious, Artemy.” There’s some odd light shining in his eyes, and Artemy doesn’t feel like he can look at it just yet. So he turns his head. “It’s not just about the sex, either. You’re a very… devoted person. Very kind. Very giving. I don’t know how anyone could turn you down.”

Artemy doesn’t really know to respond to that. It feels like he’s missing something here, but he doesn’t know what it could be. Just when he thinks he has it, turning around to look Dankovsky in the eye, the man is putting out his cigarette and moving toward him with a condom in his hands. “Come on,” he says, his fingers wrapped around Artemy’s shaft, “There’s something else I want to try.”

Daniil’s up and out of the room when Artemy wakes up. His bed is comfortable, far more than Artemy’s own is, and he’s sure the man noticed the difference when he was over. Artemy runs a hand through his hair and wonders to himself if Daniil even slept that night. He can’t imagine going from this to Artemy’s worn-out mattress and making it through the night. He can hear some activity from out in the main part of the apartment and fumbles for his clothes, pulling on his boxers and slacks.

He can smell the coffee when he steps into the hallway, taking a moment to simply breathe in and look around the flat. There’s more bedrooms to the left and a bathroom across from them. It reminds him, strangely, of his own apartment, though it’s bigger and easily nicer. He waves as he enters the central room, and Daniil calls to him. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

It feels like a bizarre question to be asked. Was this typical night-after protocol? Should he have asked Daniil that after their first time together? Artemy rakes his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. “Uh. I slept alright. How about you?”

“Good.” There’s a bit of a smirk to his face. Artemy takes the time now to look around him. There’s more homey stuff here than he’d been expecting of Daniil. More blankets, more DVDs, more books, and not all of them the heavy academic junk he expected. His brows furrow in confusion, looking out of the windows to the balcony and seeing a pink journal sitting on the table outside, a tiny watering can in the shape of a bird sitting by the plants. “Something on your mind?”

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” Artemy admits. “Didn’t really get a look around last night. It’s – you know, this isn’t really the way I pictured your apartment looking.” He can feel the quirk in Daniil’s eyebrows from across the room. “The little touches. I just didn’t expect you to live in a place that looks...” There’s no better way to say it, and he sighs. “Lived in.” He hears plates being brought down and starts to move back around the coffee table to the kitchen one. “What do you need with all this space, though? Do you have family visit a lot?”

Daniil hesitates in his plating. It looks like French toast, Artemy thinks. He can’t quite make out the look Daniil is giving him, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, bewildered, before he says, “I have kids, Burakh.”

Oh. Oh, shit.

Artemy knows his face has gone beet red, and perhaps that’s the reason Daniil doesn’t look as pissed as Artemy would have been if someone had just casually forgotten he was a father. “I don’t remember you – you ever saying you had kids,” he says, though it sounds like a poor excuse coming out of his mouth. Daniil only shrugs, concentrating on the food. “Where, uh. Where are they?”

“At my cousin’s place. I never leave them home alone when I have ‘dates’ and nor do I bring a guy home when they’re here. That would be inappropriate of me.” Artemy debates in his head whether sleeping around when he’s got kids is any more appropriate, and thinks about slapping himself when the thought inadvertently creeps in. It’s not his place to judge, and it’s not like he’s doing something different as it is right now. “Relax, Artemy. I don’t talk much about them at work. I just assumed you’d work it out from their stuff lying around everywhere.”

Right. The blankets, the toys, the journal – that was all children’s stuff. Artemy looks back and takes the plate being offered to him. The toast is topped with fresh berries. He stares at them for a moment. “I’ve never had strawberries before,” he announces. “Or raspberries, or blueberries.”

“I know. That’s why I bought them.” Daniil says. Artemy looks up in time to see him freeze, his normally pale cheeks florescent pink. He finishes plating his own food, carefully avoiding Artemy’s gaze as he takes his own seat at the table. Artemy still feels like he’s missing a piece of something, but like he’s getting there all the same.

If people were talking when Artemy took Daniil home from the holiday party, it was nothing compared to what people were doing now. People around the hospital talk. Rumors spread. A patient saw Daniil and Artemy at dinner together, and getting into the same cab home. One nurse told another, who told Andrey, and now Artemy has a hand slapping his back hard, the shorter man wheeling around him. “You got Danko to agree to a date?”

Andrey sounds perfectly scandalized. More to the point, he sounds – if Artemy can believe he’s hearing the man correctly – jealous. His eyebrows furrow as he fidgets with his gloves, scowling at the floor. Artemy’s not really sure what direction to take this conversation in, running down the list of tasks to complete before he hits his lunch break. “Actually, Daniil asked me out.”

It’s a safe bet. It’s a version of the truth, even if it’s not the whole of it. It casually leaves out the humiliating part of Artemy’s botched confession to Stakh, the fact that Daniil knew about his botched attempt at confessing to Stakh, the fact that the deal worked around dinner in exchange for sex, and the part where Artemy completely blanked on Daniil having children. All of which felt like a quick punch to the gut, but Daniil didn’t seem that bothered by any of it.

But far from looking placated by this revelation, Stamatin just looks all the more injured. “He asked you?” Artemy nods. He knows where this is going, too. Daniil is not known to be a man who dates. It just hadn’t occurred to Artemy before that anyone had actually tried dating him. Andrey runs a hand through his hair, and snaps his gloves off. He’s not the best with sanitation procedures. “Three years I had a fuck buddies relationship with the guy, and I never got him to go to dinner a single time.”

“Your version of dinner is a strip club,” Artemy points out. Andrey turns his scowl back up at him, and Artemy rolls his eyes. “Why are you even asking me? Why don’t you ask him why he didn’t ever accept your invitation?”

“’I don’t do dating,’” Andrey mimics. It’s not a bad imitation, either. Andrey snorts, looking around. “Met his kids and everything, but he wouldn’t date me properly. Now he goes home with you one night, and he’s demanding it? What sort of monster are you hiding in your pants?” Artemy flushes, and smacks Andrey with his clipboard. The grin he gets back is cheeky. “You think you’ll go out with him again?”

The question feels like a trap. If it was a normal relationship, a normal date, he’d have no problem saying yes. But answering the question honestly meant deciding whether he wanted to sleep with Dankovsky again or not, and the whole business makes him feel sort of sleazy. Or it does, until he realizes Rubin’s been standing behind him for a couple minutes now, waiting for him to turn around.

“Of course I will,” he grinds out, smirking back. It’s the answer that finally gets him the reaction he wants: a small, disgusted noise in the back of Stakh’s throat. Artemy turns, as if he hadn’t realized Stakh was standing right there, blinking up at him. “Something I can do for you, Rubin?”

“Reports, Burakh. Since some of us are still working.” Artemy accepts the reports, and Stakh turns his back and is off in the next second.

“Now there’s a man who needs to get laid,” Andrey grumbles. Artemy nods before he can stop himself, thinking, Well, it’s not for lack of trying.

A week goes by and Artemy doesn’t ask Daniil out again. It feels like nerves, bundling in his stomach every time he approaches the man. He gets close to him, and he chickens out, asking him instead about something else – about work, about his kids (twin ten-year-olds, Artemy learns; he has pictures of them in his office that he shows to Artemy, proudly), about anything and everything else that isn’t Would you like to have sex again?

He doesn’t know why he lets himself get so worked up about it. Daniil has made it clear he wouldn’t be saying no if Artemy asked, and there was very little Artemy had to do in the way of making it happen. He entertains the idea for a while that he’s just not used to the set up. Dates didn’t always lead to sex for him, and this is still new enough that he’s intimidated by the very premise.

But that’s not the whole of it.

Artemy settles down in his bed after work, after dinner, after putting the kids to bed, after having a shower, and readies himself for his little post-stress ritual. He rolls the waistband of his sleep pants down enough to free his cock, and leans over to his bedside table to pick up the lubricant. Masturbation’s pretty regular for him in times of stress, and working at a hospital is pretty much always a time of stress. He’s gotten used to the way it helps him wind down for sleep. And he usually uses this time, too, to fantasize about his crush. So while he’s warming the lube between his fingers, he expects his mind to drift with scenarios between him and Rubin, perhaps of the other man changing his mind, of Rubin vying for his attention instead of the other way around.

The idea doesn’t make his cock so much as twitch. Artemy frowns, pulling the foreskin back to reveal the head of his cock and running his thumb over the slit. Usually his fantasies start out pretty demure before they branch out into the risqué, but he can try and see if pushing forward will do the trick. He tries to think of Rubin on his knees in the breakroom, head between Artemy’s thighs, but the image doesn’t do much more than make him slightly uncomfortable.

When his mind replaces Rubin with Dankovsky, his cock throbs. Oh. So he changes the script and the scene, to one where he’s bantering with Daniil in the breakroom. There’s some sort of innuendo, and Daniil looks at him through his lashes. “Is that a challenge?” he asks, and Artemy can feel his length stiffen in his hand. He strokes himself as he hardens, right hand moving under to squeeze his balls. The Daniil in his mind straddles his lap and starts to kiss him, softly at first and then with more desperation, his tongue slipping between Artemy’s lips. Daniil grinds against his lap, starting to move his head down to bite Artemy’s neck when Artemy pulls him back.

Oh. He hadn’t really thought about kissing Daniil for real before, about really pressing their lips together and enjoying the way it feels, but now he can imagine it so well, the soft way Daniil’s mouth would fit against his own. It would be good to kiss him, just to kiss him, with no ulterior motive in mind, to watch his face pull back with his lips puffy and admire how he looks, well-kissed. For several minutes Artemy just imagines this, just the kissing, until he feels his cock fully erect.

And then, Daniil goes down on him. He remembers the way Daniil’s hot mouth felt around his prick, the way his cheeks hollowed and his tongue swirled. He’s never had someone take him into their throat before and swallow, and it had been hard not to cum the second he did it. Artemy runs his fingers along the underside of his shaft as he imagines Daniil’s tongue on him, squeezes the head of his cock as he imagines the man sucking his tip.

In his head, Daniil stands and slips his pants to the floor, and Artemy reaches up to press fingers between his slick folds. Daniil grips his shoulder tight and rubs his pussy against Artemy’s fingers, sinking himself down when Artemy presses them up inside him. He only fucks himself on Artemy’s fingers for a moment before he’s moving his hand back and grabbing his cock, settling down in Artemy’s lap. Artemy strokes himself slowly, imagining the agonizing pace Daniil would set, leaning in to kiss Artemy as they fuck. He thinks of Daniil’s little whines of pleasure, echoing in his ear as he slips a tongue into Daniil’s mouth and holds him close, hips rolling up.

That first time with Daniil riding him had been fantastic, but he wanted to see Daniil lose himself in pleasure, too. The imaginary Daniil locks his knees around Artemy’s hips and lets himself be lifted, deposited on the table. Artemy holds his thighs open and watches his cock disappearing in Daniil, squeezing his cock as he strokes himself to imagine how his cunt would pull him. Artemy spreads his own thighs on the bed, head leaning back, lips parted, hips bucking up into his fist. He imagines Daniil with his eyes closed, hands gripped at the edges of the table, teeth falling from his lips to moan Yes, Artemy, there – there! His hand jerks his cock tighter, faster, mind echoing Daniil’s little cries of pleasure the way it had been when he’d fucked him at his house, his pussy still throbbing from his first orgasm, tipping him over to his second. He wants to hear Daniil calling out his name as his body seizes, cunt wet and hot around Artemy’s cock.

Artemy grunts, and gasps, squeezing his balls tight as he imagines Dankovsky in orgasm, tipping over on his own.  He tugs his foreskin over the head of his cock, and he’s done, cum shooting up his chest as he rubs himself out. He thinks about filling Daniil as the man moans under him, shuddering as he pulses.

It takes fifteen minutes to cool down from his orgasm, leaning over for tissues to clean the cum from his chest. And as he cleans himself off, he settles into the idea that his affections have changed from one man to another, and he wonders, How can I make this next date real?

Artemy is starting to learn that he simply is not very good with words. His thumbs hover over the letters on his phone’s keyboard, trying to work out the opening to a text he could reasonably send Dankovsky, and then his mind – predictably – goes blank. They’ve texted a little more since Daniil opened up about being a father, so it shouldn’t be too difficult for him to segue their platonic texting into something more romantic.

On Wednesday, he thinks he has an opening.

Me
4:36 P.M.
Do you have plans for
Friday? Dad’s drop-
ping Sticky off at a
friend’s house.

Daniil
4:40 P.M.
…I know, Burakh. It’s
my house. Shrew is
my daughter.

The ellipsis really kills Artemy. He feels so embarrassed about it he covers his face with his pillow and screams. Why didn’t his dad tell him that Sticky’s friend Shrew was Dankovsky’s kid? Why didn’t Sticky tell him he’d met his colleague before? Why didn’t Dankovsky mention it after he blundered through their last hookup?

No, he thinks. This is just him having been a bad father. If he feels like going easy on himself, he can admit that he’s a little busy, maybe, but how had he not checked in on his kids’ friends before? They were getting to be an age where he should really know these kinds of things.

Me
5:03 P.M.
Hey dad, let me drop
Sticky off at Shrew’s
house. I wanna meet
his friends.

Dad
5:10 P.M.
Finally learned who
Shrew’s dad is?

He does not need that sass from his father. He doesn’t even bother dignifying that text with an answer, but he doesn’t need to either. When he drops by his dad’s house to pick Sticky up, Isidor pulls him aside, wry smile on his face. “I told you that you would like Dankovsky, didn’t I?” Artemy rubs the back of his neck. “You argued with me. You argue with everyone, Tyoma. And now I hear you’ve taken him on a date?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Dad, I haven’t done this since high school. You know how badly my dates went after the divorce.” Isidor’s brows raise, echoing the memory of alarm, and he nods gravely. It’s embarrassing to even think about, but Artemy needs to power through this to get to what he wants. “I really like him. How do I… you know?”

Isidor frowns, squeezing his arm. “I taught you sex ed when you were thirteen. And if you’ve gone home with him twice –“

“No, no – shudkher!” God, his face is on fire.  He didn’t want to have that conversation the first time, he certainly doesn’t want to have it again now, almost thirty, when he’s picking up his kids. “No, dad! I – I know about that stuff. I meant romantically. How do I get him to stay interested?”

His father hums, dropping Artemy’s arm to cross his own. “Well, all relationships take time. There should be chemistry there – but obviously the two of you have that in spades.” Artemy nods. They do get along remarkably well, considering how things started out. He’s been talking to him more at work, and that’s got to be helping him out a bit. “The rest is communication. Being honest with each other, being open about things. Caring for your partner. It’s really not all that different from how you are with your friends, though I’m assuming you haven’t been kissing Grief.” He pauses. “They- they are still going by Grief, right?”

Artemy nods, but his father’s advice doesn’t really help him at all. Murky chases Sticky into the kitchen with a frog held up in her hands, bickering with each other about who gets the front seat of the car as Artemy collects his kids and their things for the drive to Daniil’s. He listens to Sticky chatting in long, rambling sentences about some video game or other they’re going to be playing when he gets there, and proudly shows off his collection of walnuts while Murky tunes them out with her headphones and CD player.

Daniil is clearly surprised to see him dropping the kids off, but at least he doesn’t look distressed. “Hey, Dr. Dankovsky!” Sticky says, bouncing up and down on his toes. He leans around the man’s body to yell into the apartment, “See, Shrew! I told you my dad was real!”

A little girl about Sticky’s age comes running through the apartment, sticking her head around her father’s legs. He recognizes her from the photos Daniil has shown him, blonde hair in pigtails, her blue-grey eyes bright. She looks up at Artemy, nose scrunched up, and says, “You look too big to be a doctor. Are you sure you’re not a knee-breaker with the mafia?”

Dankovsky’s face goes scarlet. It’s rather nice to watch him fluster. No one ever gets the better of him like that at work. “Shrew,” he says, tone warning, “That’s not very polite. Artemy is a doctor – I told you. He works with me at the hospital.”

“Maybe that’s just his side job,” she whispers, loud enough for Artemy to hear.

“Nice to meet you too, kiddo,” Artemy offers.

Shrew looks up at him, her head tilted, and says, “My daddy told me not to talk to strangers. And you might be a doctor, but you’re still a strange man!”

“Shrew!” Sticky chases her inside the apartment, calling to her brother as they enter, and Daniil sighs, covering his face with his hand. “My apologies, Burakh.” Right then, Artemy gets the idea to offer to stay and watch the kids with him. Murky changed her mind about socializing on the way over, deciding she wants to spend time with her grandfather, but it wouldn’t be too difficult to drop her off and come back. Sticky wants to spend time with Shrew and Cookaroo, Artemy wants to spend time with Daniil… But then he worries that it’s moving too fast. If Daniil only sees this relationship as a gateway to sex, his intentions might be read all wrong. And when he’s not sure how the message will be received, he’s better off not trying at all. He should be spending more time with his kids, anyway, not looking for excuses to hang out with a colleague at the last minute.

So he licks his lips and tells Daniil, “Well, I can certainly tell she’s your daughter.” Daniil shakes his head, and reaches his arm behind it to pinch at his neck, grimacing. He rolls his shoulders, too, and Artemy finds himself resting his hand on the man’s back and digging his fingers in. Daniil rocks back on his heels, eyes fluttering shut. Artemy bites his lip. “You know, emshen, I give pretty good massages.”

“Do you, now?” he looks up at Artemy through his lashes. It looks like there are flecks of red in the brown. Artemy’s distracted for the moment before he nods. Daniil’s gaze seems to travel down his face as he asks, “Is that an offer?”

“I’ve got Mishka in the car right now – she, ah, is worn out from school,” he offers, and Daniil nods in understanding. “But I’m free again next week, on Thursday. I can fix your lines.” He trails his hand lower, and digs his thumb in. Daniil hums softly, neck tilting back. If there weren’t kids in the apartment, Artemy would be tempted to bite it.

“Alright, Artemy. You’ve got yourself a date.” His chest flips. “I’ll text you when I’ve got my schedule for next week worked out.” Artemy pulls his hand back, but he’s hesitant, fingers curling on Daniil’s neck, thumb brushing his jaw before he pulls away. Daniil clears his throat, as if remembering himself, and looks around. “I’ll see you at work.”

Artemy’s cleaned up the apartment, his kids off with their friend Notkin for the evening, and set everything he wants to make for dinner in the fridge. He’s not too sure about wines – alcohol has never been his forte – but Andrey had begrudgingly given him some idea of what Daniil was into from their time at university together. And he didn’t know much about preparing berries, but he did grab them, just in case Daniil wanted to have some later. He’s bought them more frequently, and found the taste of strawberries reminds him of Daniil.

He hears feet tapping just outside his door and opens it before Daniil has the chance to knock. He is, again, stupidly overdressed, but Artemy sort of likes it. All the hoops he must’ve jumped through to look good for him bodes well for Artemy’s intentions. He sets his hand on Daniil’s back to usher him in, and wraps his fingers around the collar of his coat to pull it down. He wants to say something nice, something flirtatious, but the tension in his back is twice as bad as it was when he dropped Sticky off at his house last week.

“Oh, baarhani, how are you still using your arms?” Daniil tries to roll his shoulders, but grimaces and hisses through his teeth before he can make it through. Artemy had initially planned on dinner first, but this clearly needs more attention. He doesn’t even ask which Daniil prefers, leading him back into his bedroom. Daniil doesn’t protest, either, sitting down and trying to reach his neck.

Artemy swats his hand away. “Lay down, emshen. Let me take care of you.” Daniil gives him an odd look, but kicks off his shoes and moves further up onto the bed anyway, He fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, and Artemy helps him take it off, setting it by his head on the pillow. Daniil lays flat on his stomach, and Artemy moves to grab the oil he’d bought just for this from his nightstand. He pours a little into the palm of his hand, warming it up by rubbing them together before he touches Daniil’s shoulder, very gently.

Daniil’s muscles twitch under Artemy’s fingers, and Artemy presses into that twitch. Daniil hisses again, but doesn’t jerk away. Artemy takes it as his cue to press the heel of his hand into the tense muscles, listening to Daniil groan underneath him. He pays particular attention to Daniil’s right shoulder, grinding his palm against it as Daniil huffs. He moves his hands back toward Daniil’s neck, rubbing at a knot there as Daniil’s back arches a little. Artemy works his fingers up to the cut of Daniil’s hair, and back down again.

He works his thumbs along the top line of Daniil’s shoulders, moving toward his neck, and Daniil sighs. Artemy takes a second to grab more oil, and hovers over him, rubbing his hands together. He starts to massage Daniil’s back next, pressing and rolling pressure from his palms to his fingertips. He lifts and rubs the muscles as he goes, straddling Daniil’s hips to get closer. Artemy rolls his knuckles along either side of Daniil’s spine, and Daniil hums softly, turning his head to rest it the other way.

Then, with trepidation, Artemy leans down and kisses the back of Daniil’s neck. His hands move to start massaging Daniil’s arms, kneading and stroking as he had done with his shoulders. Daniil doesn’t seem to mind the affection, humming as Artemy kisses down to his shoulder. Artemy works his hands back up, lips pressed to the back of Daniil’s ear.

At the very least, Daniil doesn’t question his actions, allowing Artemy to kiss him as he goes back to the tenser muscles, grinding with his thumbs. Daniil practically melts against the bed, and Artemy’s heart flutters to see him this pliant.

Artemy feels Daniil shuffle under him, feels his pants slip down and his bare ass grind up against his lap. Artemy helps him free of them, moving to massage his legs next.

His legs are where he starts to make different noises, less sighs of pain being released and more little moans of pure enjoyment. Artemy kisses the small of his back, and Daniil rolls his hips. Artemy watches his thighs move, and feels a hit of arousal surge through him. And it’s not just him; he’s careful not to let his cock rub against Daniil’s body, but when his hand runs around Daniil’s thigh he finds him wet. He takes a moment to squeeze Daniil’s ass and listens to his little gasp before he moves back over him, hips pressed to his backside, and massages his back in long strokes.

For several minutes he touches Daniil like this, Daniil rutting his hips back to grind his ass against Artemy’s clothed erection, until Daniil says, “That’s too rough on my skin. Undress.” Artemy rocks back, removing his sweater and jeans, hesitating before he pulls free of his underwear too, and moves back into place. Daniil pushes his ass up against his prick, and sighs. “Much better.”

He starts massaging again, this time with little intention beyond making Daniil whimper and rub up against him. He doesn’t care much how hard he is, too entranced by the noises Daniil makes when he pushes his thumbs against a particularly tense spot. It isn’t until he’s rubbing Daniil’s hips that his partner lifts up the lower half of his body and says, “There’s another tight spot you can help me with.” Artemy leans over and kisses his shoulder, slipping his fingers around to massage his folds. Daniil hums, and grinds against him. Artemy uses the slick to coat his fingers, pressing against Daniil’s entrance. Daniil grinds back, sinking himself on Artemy’s finger.

The wet heat of his body is going straight to Artemy’s cock, but he’s more invested in making his partner feel good than in getting off for himself. He rests a second finger against Daniil’s entrance, and Daniil fucks himself on the digits. Artemy spreads his fingers, trying for the same long strokes he had against Daniil’s back, and Daniil lets out an approving, wordless sound. He searches for Daniil’s g-spot, and knows he hits it when Daniil clamps down on him with a loud cry. His forehead hits the sheets, hips rolling against Artemy’s fingers, and Artemy kisses his shoulder. “Is this helping your tension?”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Fuck – Artemy, don’t you want to –“

Artemy shushes him, grinding his fingers in place. “Told you, Daniil. Let me take care of you.” He aligns a third finger and slides it in, rolling his fingers in and out. Daniil whines, jerking his hips back, walls squeezing around Artemy’s fingers. Artemy stretches him as his fingers thrust, curling them and watching Daniil grind on them. He takes control then, rubbing insistently as slick gathers on his fingers. Daniil whimpers out little affirmations, choking as Artemy thrusts his fingers hard, walls gripping tight around Artemy’s fingers as he starts to come.

He jerks as Artemy continues to fuck him through his climax, finally pulling back when Daniil’s hips drop to the bed. Artemy wipes his fingers off on his thigh, and Daniil turns to face him, legs open. “You haven’t come,” he notes. “Did you want to –“

“Tenegh, how many times do I have to tell you?” Artemy crawls over to him, leaning down to brush their lips together. “I wanted to take care of you.” Daniil’s eyes flutter closed, lips pursed to accept Artemy’s kiss. It’s nice, to just kiss him softly, feeling Daniil’s palm against his neck, guiding him into a deeper kiss. But he feels Daniil’s hand circling his shaft, stroking him evenly, his legs wrapped around Artemy’s left.

“Still,” Daniil says, his lips ghosting over Artemy’s, “Let me do this.” Artemy sets his fingers on the back of Daniil’s neck, drawing him into another kiss. His eyes flutter shut, tugging on Daniil’s bottom lip as Daniil works his length. He palms the tip, and Artemy bucks against him, huffing a little. He doesn’t want to let go of this moment, no matter how stiff he is, and thinks of having Daniil stop altogether. But Daniil doesn’t pull back, only rests his right hand on Artemy’s cheek, and Artemy leans up to envelope him in another dozen kisses. Artemy’s hips roll up into his strokes without really thinking about it, preoccupied with the way Daniil sucks Artemy’s tongue into his mouth. Daniil’s grip tightens, and Artemy grunts, feeling his stomach tighten and his toes curl. He cums in a startled gasp, spilling on his stomach as Daniil strokes him out.

Artemy makes to grab the box of tissues from his bedside stand, but Daniil holds his hips firm against the mattress, lowering himself. He licks up the pool of cum, his tongue too soft on Artemy’s sensitive stomach, He kisses Artemy’s belly when he’s done, and up his chest to Artemy’s neck, just behind his ear. “I haven’t made out with anyone in a while,” he mumbles, and Artemy turns to grab his lips again. Daniil makes a noise like laughter against his lip, letting Artemy guide him in a few sweeter kisses. “It feels nice.”

His heart twists. This had gone a little more sexual than he’d initially intended. It’s good to hear the less explicit parts were as happily accepted as the rest had been. Daniil’s arms circle around his neck, letting Artemy press him against the bed and kiss him soundly.

When Artemy pulls back to breathe, Daniil’s lips are plush. “I have to make dinner,” he says, “But you can stay in bed if you want.”

Daniil sits up, small frown on his face. “Dinner?” Artemy nods. He thinks of kissing Daniil’s neck, but he’d like to keep the rest of the evening chaste, if he can. He’ll have to mark it up some other time. “But – you already gave me a massage. You don’t have to –“

“I want to,” Artemy interrupts. Daniil looks startled, but Artemy only kisses his nose and goes to find his underwear and jeans.

Cooking is a pastime his father instilled a love of in him, though he hasn’t cooked for a romantic partner in nearly ten years. He doesn’t always have the time to cook the way he wants, even for his kids, and he rarely puts in the effort to cook just for himself. Tonight, he has something simple planned, a veal and pasta dish his father taught him to make when he first got married. It had taken him awhile to make it again, for his friends, trying to reassociate the memory with someone other than his ex.

It doesn’t surprise him that Daniil decides to join him out in the dining room, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. Relaxed like this, he looks a couple years younger. Artemy wonders what he must have been like in college. Which itself, just brings up a whole host of questions. “Your kids. They’re around Sticky’s age, aren’t they?” Daniil leans on the island, and nods. “You must’ve had them in college.”

The look he gets says it before Daniil even opens his mouth. “Really, Artemy? This is the conversational direction you’re deciding to go in?” Artemy feels his ears heating up, ducking his head in embarrassment. “I’ve heard a nurse or two complain about this, you know. And that doctor you tried going out with two years ago. She said you were handsome, but your social interaction left much to be desired.”

“Then we’re in good company,” he quips. Daniil barks out a laugh. “Sorry. I just like kids. I always have. And I’m curious, since you don’t talk much about yours.”

He can almost hear Daniil swallow. “Yes,” Daniil says, idly picking up a magazine off the counter. It’s one of Sticky’s nature magazines for kids. There’s something very endearing about the way Daniil looks at it, lacking all condescension. “My boyfriend got me pregnant my sophomore year. Turning twenty while I was pregnant wasn’t fun. Every gift I’ve gotten since I gave birth has been for the kids, really. From family, anyway.” His eyes are focused on a spread about birds. Artemy hums, to show he’s listening. “I’ll give Feliks this, though. He stayed with me for two months after I figured out I was pregnant. Then he mysteriously transferred schools, and I never heard from him again.”

“That’s horrible.” Daniil shrugs, and perhaps the wound is old enough to have scabbed over, but Artemy feels rage in his gut at the thought of it. He couldn’t imagine doing something like that, but then, he’d always wanted kids. He starts to whack the veal with his mallet, to flatten it. “I married my high school sweetheart,” he offers. “And we had Sticky immediately. Waited two years, and had Murky.” He sets the hammer aside, and coats the veal in flour, egg, breadcrumbs. “I thought things were fine. But apparently, she wanted something different than a family life. Something more.”

Everything’s quiet for a moment, mentally cursing himself forgetting to do things in order. Should’ve started the pasta first… “So she left you?” Daniil’s set the magazine back down on the island, giving Artemy a peculiar, thin-lipped expression.

“Yep,” he says from the stove, turning around. He goes to wash his and dry his hands before returning to stand across form Daniil, leaning on the counter with his hands clasped together. His dinner partner doesn’t look particularly satisfied with his conclusion, blinking at his hands. “I wanted to try and make things work out. I was doing gen ed classes online, Dad was pitching in where he could – and my godmother, Ospina. I told Aglaya I could do a long-distance marriage, but she was adamant that things between us didn’t work –“

“Wait a second.” Daniil taps a finger against the fake marble, and holds the finger up in the air. “Aglaya. Hm.” His lips thin to the point they all but disappear. “Not Lilich. Please don’t say Lilich.”

“I suppose she’s gone back to her maiden name now, but I really wouldn’t know.” Daniil looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. “I, uh, take it you know her. That’s the face of a man who’s met my Aglaya, if I know it.”

“Christ, Artemy.” Artemy laughs, checking on the water. He’s never been patient, but it’s nearly boiling now. “Do you know the Kains? St. Kain Hospital, on the other side of town?”

Artemy’s chest swells with pride, excited to finally know something. He’s paid better attention as of late, tried to learn more about his surroundings, about Daniil, to better woo him. Listening always helped with that, and here it was going to pay off. “Of course I know them,” Artemy says, as if it’s no big deal. “Prestigious hospital, excellent working conditions. More money than our hospital, but I know the staff isn’t half as good.” He looks over, smirking. “They’ve head-hunted around Gorkhon. Been after you for a couple of years now.”

Sadly, his show of information doesn’t seem to impress Daniil very much. His lips are pulled down, running his tongue over them. “Artemy, those are Aglaya’s family. Her brother-in-law, Victor? And her niece, Maria?” Oh. Right. Well, that would explain why he’d gotten sympathy cards from the other hospital when the divorce finalized. He’d thought it had been some petty drama on their part, it never occurred to him they might have actually meant the sentiment. “And they’re my cousins, Artemy. Shrew and Cookaroo are with Victor right now.”

Oh. Oh, fuck. He’s been sleeping with his ex’s cousin. He thinks he’d have been a little horrified at the idea if he’d known a month or two ago, but now all he can do is laugh. This’ll make things fun when we get married. Oh – a different kind of oh, that hurts his chest. He’s getting too far ahead of himself, as he always has done. He has to get Daniil to see that this is a real relationship first, and then be in it for a year or so. “Are you alright over there? You seem dazed.”

“I’m good,” he calls, though his voice cracks a little. The water’s ready for the pasta, and he can start to fry the cutlets now. Daniil’s only redressed in his boxers and a shirt, he realizes, as he comes to stand near Artemy and watch him cook. Artemy envisions Daniil resting his head on his arm, wrapping his hand around the crook of his elbow, and tries not to get flustered about it. He busies himself with the sauce, prepared earlier in a nervous burst of energy. Because he knew he’d do this, and forget things halfway through.

“I’ll never understand her,” Daniil says softly. “I’ll never understand anybody, it seems.” There’s such a tinge of starkness to his words, of desperation, that Artemy wants to pull him up and kiss him again, to make it go away.

Instead, he says, “I don’t know. I think you understand me pretty well.” And then he does, actually, tip his head to rest against Artemy’s bicep for a moment, before stepping back to ask him, “Is there anything in here I can help you with? Plates? Set the dining table?”

“You’re just not happy with me doing something for you, are you?” It’s meant as a joke, but there’s a sting of truth to the words, and Daniil seems to recognize it. He doesn’t look particularly upset by it, despite the petulant face he makes, sticking his tongue out at Artemy. “Fine, if you insist. Yes – the drawer there has knives and forks in it. There’s already napkins on the table. And be careful with the napkin holder, Mishka made it in art class.”

Artemy considers that second date a more authentic one. He opens up the wine to accompany their meal, offers him berries for dessert, and spends the rest of the night just talking to Daniil, person to person. And Daniil stays on the other side of the table, not making a move on him, not slipping innuendo into his words, simply enjoying his company until his phone rings in the other room. When he’s back out, he looks harried, his clothes slipped back on, neat appearance reordered. “That was Victor,” he says, huffing. “Shrew got sick. Nothing serious, but –“

“I know,” Artemy says, patting his shoulders. “You want to be there for your kids.” Daniil nods, and Artemy tilts his head up to kiss him softly a little more before he heads back out. It occurs to Artemy later that next time, he should see Daniil to his car, or his Uber – whatever it is he takes to get to Artemy’s place. Though next time, hopefully, he won’t be leaving so quickly.

So he’s surprised when Daniil calls out the next morning, holding off until his break to text him.

Me
10:42 A.M.
Everything okay?

Daniil
10:50 A.M.
Shrew has the flu. New
strain. Be prepared
for an influx of new
cases.

True to form, Daniil is back to business mode. And Daniil had criticized his inability to pick an appropriate topic for conversation. Then again, Daniil had remained dateless by what Artemy could only gather was choice, whereas Artemy apparently scared off his dates via social ineptitude. So maybe he was onto something. Good thing his attention was tuned to Daniil, who didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t the best at making conversation.

He wants to ask Daniil why he never gave Andrey a chance. It’s not like it really bothers him – Andrey’s loss was his gain, after all – but there had to be something that made Artemy different in his mind, something that Artemy could play on in order to convince him to make the relationship a real one. Though even if he never figured it out, he thinks he has a decent chance. Date two went more chastely than their previous nights together had, and Artemy was getting the impression it wasn’t usual for Dankovsky to have sex only the one time.

Artemy’s tired to the bone when his shift is over, but it’s early enough to pick his kids up from school and he won’t miss out on that whenever given the opportunity. They’re both excited to see him, launching into an overview of their days at the exact same time until he laughs and tells them take turns. Murky falls into silence, then, going through her bookbag while Sticky tries to throw himself between the front seats. “Hey, dad. Are you gonna have Dr. Dankovsky over for dinner?”

“Back in your seat, Spichka. Seatbelt on.” Sticky grumbles, but does as he’s told, Artemy checking in on him from the rearview mirror as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Now, what brought that on?”

“Shrew said you’ve been on dates with her dad.” Oh, god. He hadn’t wanted to drag the kids into his dating life. He’d only mentioned when he was going on them, not who he was going with. He never wanted them to get excited about something that might not even pan out. Sticky barely remembers his mother – how could he? He wouldn’t have been older than four when she left. But a new partner he’d remember much easier, and if things didn’t work out, Artemy wouldn’t be the only one devastated.

But if Dankovsky was telling his kids he was dating Artemy, maybe that meant something. He decides, either way, on honesty. “It’s still new. I don’t know if he’s ready to meet you guys yet.” Sticky gives him a look, and he closes his eyes. Just for a second, remembering he’s on the road. “I mean, it’s different when he’s watching you. I don’t know if he’s ready for us as a family.”

“But that’s what people do on dates! They come over and meet the family, and you have a big dinner and get embarrassed by all the stuff your kids say!” Sticky bounces in his seat. “And I wanna tell him all the stories aunt Aspity told us about you as a baby.”

“Are you sure you want this to go well for me, or do you just want me to embarrass myself?”

“I want you to be happy!” He’d meant his own statement as a joke, but Sticky seems to be completely earnest in his words. Artemy feels his own face fall a bit, wondering how obvious his loneliness and pining had been to his kids. He’d always tried to keep that stuff hidden from them, but his circle of friends had always been an important part of his life. Had the past couple months tipped him over from clandestine to in plain sight?

“I am happy, kids,” he says, because it’s evident now that Murky, though quiet as she is with her latest art project, is paying attention. “As long as I’ve got you guys, I’m happy.” Sticky doesn’t look entirely convinced by his answer, and this is how Artemy knows he’s messed up somewhere, forcing a smile on his face. “But, hey, it’s been a while since I saw the old gang. What if I have aunt Lara and uncle Grief over for dinner?”

“Heck yeah!” Sticky shouts.

“Do you think uncle Grief will like my picture of them?” Murky says. The thing’s been hanging on the fridge for a couple weeks now. It’s full of bright, brilliant colors, something Daniil had looked at and called ‘expressionist’ with a look of genuine excitement on his face. Thinking about it makes his chest throb, though it’s not a negative feeling. Not the way it always had been with Stakh. Maybe I’d known how that would go before I said anything. He just needs to work on a way to get Daniil over to see the kids, and maybe that’ll cinch their relationship into something solid, something true.

That’s something he can focus on another time. Right now, he’s gotta be with his kids. Artemy perks up, giving Mishka a wide smile in the mirror. “Are you kidding, honey? They’re gonna love it!”

Grief does, indeed, adore Murky’s painting of them. They’re a little overdramatic and silly in their assessment of it, but Murky never laughs as hard as when Grief is doing something silly. She doesn’t make many friends her own age, so Artemy’s not one to turn down who she feels comfortable with. Grief is making a copy of her painting to take with them, and Artemy knows it’ll hang proudly on the back wall of their store. In the meantime, they’ve got her wrapped up in some multiplayer doodling game on the Wii. He can’t tell if Grief is letting her win, or if she really is just better at it than they are. That’s the mystery of his best friend.

Best friend. It feels good to say that phrase in relation to somebody actually deserving of it. Not that Lara is slacking in that department, though she’s been busy with her own relationship as of late. And Artemy is gearing up to ask her how Yulia’s doing when Lara breaks the two-minute silence herself. “So I hear you’re dating the hospital skank.”

Artemy drops the dish in his hands. Which is not that big a deal, as it’s made of thick plastic as opposed to glass and it’s only hitting the bottom of the sink, but it’s still not the kind of thing he expected to hear – and from Lara, of all people. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Stakh tells me.” She says it conversationally, like she hasn’t just said something incredibly rude about a man Artemy cares a great deal about. “Those were his words, exactly. I don’t keep up much with the gossip from your workplace, but Yulia said he is known to be a bit…loose.”

“I thought better of Yulia,” Artemy snaps. Lara winces, opening her mouth, but before he can hear whatever she’s about to say, he continues. “And if Stakh said that to my face, he’d be going home with a broken jaw.”

Lara clears her throat. “You’re right, Cub. Sorry. I didn’t think your relationship was serious.” She takes a dish from his hand to dry it, like she’s making penance. She sets a hand on his shoulder and says, firmer, “I’m sorry.” Artemy shakes his head. “In Yulia’s defense, she wasn’t being judgmental of his life choices. She was more intrigued to know he’d found a steady partner. I just didn’t,” she pauses, drying more intently. “I just didn’t pick my words right.”

He huffs. “What does Rubin care about my choices in partner, anyway? That train left the station months ago, and he chose not to be aboard it then.”

Gravel looks at him with her eyebrows raised. “I really hope that isn’t the sort of thing you say to your dates, Cub, or I’ll understand why it took you so long to find a real relationship after Aglaya left.” Artemy sighs. Is everyone going to have a go at him for the way he talks? Gravel nudges his arm. “Are you going to give me the details on your boyfriend, or what?”

“Well, his name’s Daniil,” Artemy says. “We’ve only been on a couple dates, and…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. And of course, it drenches it. Why does he do things like this? Lara hands him the towel without even asking. “Rubin might’ve gotten those choice words from the fact that I did kinda hook up with him at a holiday party.” And from his previous reputation, though he’s going to spare Lara the details of it. “But we’ve been on two dates since then, and… you know, we work together?” he sighs. “I really like him. We’ve known each other for a couple of years now. Dad tried to set us up initially –“

“Hold on,” Lara says, touching her pointer finger to her lips. “Daniil. Dankovsky? The guy you used to bitch about during our get-togethers?” Artemy nods, handing the wet towel back to Lara. She hums. “So I see the complaints were your unresolved sexual tension.”

“Not all of them.” He can think of a few that were Artemy being bullheaded about something, and a few about Dankovsky’s total lack of bedside manner. If he really wanted to analyze it – sure, there were a few arguments he got in just for the sake of seeing Daniil riled up. It seemed natural. “But we have gotten along better the past year and a half or so. Apparently he was trying to hit on me for a while now, and I was just too oblivious to notice.”

“No, you?” Her mock surprise is like a punch to the gut. “You, Artemy Burakh? Oblivious? Who could have possibly thought?”

“Ha ha, Gravel.” He hands her the frying pan. “Anyway –“ His next thought is cut off by a knock at the door. It’s curt, rapt, and he doesn’t have a single clue who it could be, because he hadn’t invited anybody else. Unless Lara or Grief thought to invite Rubin and try to get the whole gang back together? He wouldn’t put it past them, especially Grief. But Lara looks as genuinely confused as Artemy feels, so he just states the obvious: “If that’s Rubin, I’m slamming the door in his face.”

He wipes his hands off on his jeans and doesn’t bother checking the peephole before opens the door to Daniil Dankovsky. Speak of the fucking devil. “What, oynon, were your ears burning?”

Daniil blinks at Artemy, and he suddenly remembers every time he’s ever tried to use some kind of idiom with the man and been met with the same bewildered expression. He knows what Daniil’s going to say before it even leaves his mouth. “No, my ears feel fine, thank you?”

“What I mean is, what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.” He’s not about to explain the bit of the idiom where he was talking about him. He’d like to avoid any uncomfortable conversations if at all possible, though that seems unlikely given his streak. “Not that I’m complaining, of course, I didn’t even realize you had the night off.”

His face looks conflicted, cheeks rosy and lips curled into a frown. Artemy realizes he’s holding a bottle of wine. “How could you not know what I’m doing here? You texted me. This was the earliest I could get here.”

“I, uh, I absolutely didn’t,” he says, and he pulls his phone from his pocket to prove it. Except, he can’t do that, because there is a message to Daniil. Artemy rubs his head, at first with confusion and then with dawning comprehension. He’d let Sticky play a game on his phone earlier. Artemy was the one being played. “Hold on – no, actually, you know what? Come in.” He steps back, to allow Daniil inside. “But I’ve got, uh – Hey, so, this,” he slips his arm around Daniil’s shoulders and guides him to the kitchen where Lara stands, eyebrows raised. “This is –“

“Lara,” Daniil finishes. He smiles, offering his hand. “Yulia’s girlfriend, I’d know you anywhere.”

“She talks about me?” Oh, he thinks Daniil’s won her over already. It’s rare to see Gravel outwardly happy, normally so reserved in her emotions. Daniil nods. “Oh. Well, you must be Daniil. Artemy’s told us about you.”

“’Us’?” Lara points to the couch where Grief sits, Murky elbowing them hard in the shoulder with her controller high up near her face. Must be a racing game. “Oh, Bad Grief. Odd, seeing them outside the hospital. What are you doing here, though?”

Before Lara can open her mouth and add her own confusion to the mixing bowl, Artemy holds his phone up and calls, “Hey, Sticky, you wanna come out here and greet your guest?”

Sticky peeks his head out from his room, and comes charging out. “Woah! Dr. Dankovsky, you made it!” Daniil’s mouth closes on a very soft Ah. Artemy shrugs, turning to face his son. He looks back at Artemy, eyebrows raised. “Well you weren’t gonna do it!”  he says defensively. “So I took matters into my own hands!” He makes a grab for the wine bottle. “Can I –“

“Not until you’re eighteen,” Artemy rebuffs. “And hey,” he gets down on Sticky’s level, pointing his phone at him. “You should have let me know you texted him. That wasn’t very nice of you.” He’s never been good at scolding, though Sticky doesn’t look particularly upset by this. “What if I didn’t make enough food, huh?”

His son rolls his eyes. “You always make enough food for eight weeks, dad.” He grabs Daniil’s coat, pulling on it and gesturing. “Are you gonna let him starve?”

“I’m not starving,” Daniil protests.

“Dad made enchiladas,” Sticky says, bouncing, his entire focus turned back to the other doctor. “You gotta try ‘em.”

“That’s up to him.”

“It’s up to me,” Lara corrects. She’s already plating food, getting it ready to be reheated. “Artemy’s a terrible host.”

“What? I’m not –“ Daniil and Lara are giving him nearly identical looks. “Not that bad,” he tries, but his defense is looking bleak. He takes the wine from Daniil, rummaging around his kitchen drawer for a corkscrew. “Can’t believe I’m being bullied like this in my own home.”

“I can,” Lara says, her voice taking on a cheerful lilt. “You’ve always been a pushover, Cub. Even as a kid. You let your first kiss go to the first girl who asked, and then when she said you were terrible at it, you cried.”

“No one likes being terrible at kissing.”

“You were eight, Cub.”

“In your defense, you’ve gotten better,” Daniil says, laying a hand on Artemy’s upper arm. “Fortiter in re, suaviter in modo.” Lara snorts into her hand. Artemy must’ve told them about the Latin quoting a couple dozen times.  

“Hey, Dankovsky.” Daniil flinches as a hand claps hard on his back. Greif’s leaning over him, reaching across the island to grab a glass of wine off the counter. “Are we bullying Cub? I want to join in.” They take a quick sip of their drink, and point. “Remember when you were in college, and you had that guy in your pharmacology class you just hated, and he was always going on about incorrect diagnoses, so you took a psych class the next semester just to argue with him some more?”

“That is not the only reason I took psych!” Artemy feels his cheeks flushing, but at least Daniil looks amused by his torment. “It’s a very versatile and useful subject. All doctors should have a basic knowledge of psychiatrics –“

“Yeah, yeah,” Grief dips their head down to mutter to Daniil. “I think he was into the guy. Cub always has had a preference for men he can’t agree with.” Daniil smirks, and makes a noise that is far too happy, his eyes reading up Artemy’s face.

“Come on, I would not have done that,” he says, though maybe that guy was pretty cute, looking back on it. “My marriage had just fallen apart, Mishka was turning three – would I really have taken a class just to spite a guy? Or to pick one up?”

“I’ve done that,” Daniil admits. “Both, actually. Most of my academic career was fueled by spite.” Artemy knows he shouldn’t be surprised to hear that, but he always figured Daniil did things despite what others thought, not in spite of them. “Amazing how many people still think those assigned female at birth can’t become doctors.”

“Or storekeepers,” Grief chimes in. Daniil picks up a glass, and Grief clinks their own against it. “So, doc. Any embarrassing stories to tell us about our boy?”

“Not as many as you do,” he says. Artemy gets the feeling it’s a sly way of telling Grief he’s not giving out anything too incriminating, and Artemy silently thanks him for that. Up until he follows it with, “What have the two of you got for me?”

“Well,” Grief starts.

Lara gets in ahead of him. “He cried when he lost his virginity.”

“Gravel!” he tries to gesture to Sticky, but he’s back on the couch with Murky, engrossed in their game. She still covers her mouth, but what comes out is a giggle. Artemy’s voice comes out quieter, almost a whisper as he defends himself. “I’m – it was emotional for me, okay? I loved her a lot. It was a culmination of feelings. It was overwhelming.”

Daniil’s expression looks a little checked out of the conversation, small frown on his face. Artemy wants to ask him what’s wrong, but Daniil manages to shake his head and force an uneven smile back into place. “In the interest of the children in the room, have you got anything a little more appropriate to embarrass him with?”

“He almost drowned when he was ten because he was adamant that swimming was a human instinct.” Grief takes another sip of their wine. “Good thing Ersher was there to drag you out. It wasn’t your brightest idea, Cub.”

“Ersher?” Daniil asks “And, while I’m at it: ‘Cub’? I think, considering his height,” Daniil squeezes his arm. The look he gives Artemy is decidedly less innocent than the rest of his words. “He falls under ‘Bear’.”

“It’s – it’s not my designation, Daniil,” Artemy says, and he notes how Daniil’s look of approval has moved to his stomach. Funny. Artemy had just assumed Daniil wasn’t picky, not that he preferred how Artemy looked. “It’s a nickname I’ve had since I was a kid, though it was ironic then. I wasn’t always, y’know,” he gestures. “I got chubby as an adult.”

“And Ersher’s his older brother,” Lara adds in. She takes the reheated food from the oven, offering it to Daniil. Artemy gravitates back to the table with Daniil while Lara stays in the kitchen, probably resorting through Artemy’s cupboards and reorganizing everything. Grief sits on the arm of the couch, poking at Murky’s arm as she leans in her seat.

“I didn’t realize you had a brother. Though now that I think about it, perhaps I wasn’t paying enough attention. Isidor did say an awful lot about his son that didn’t seem to fit you at all.” Artemy watches him take his first bite, lids closed, humming. He thinks of grabbing Daniil’s other hand from under the table, but the thought that it might be too much plagues him.

“My brother joined the army right out of undergrad.” Grief mutters something that sounds like bootlicker, and Artemy tries to give him a disapproving frown. “He’s in Germany right now, so you won’t get to meet him for a while.” He doesn’t even catch on to what he’s said, to the confident way he’s said it for a moment, but Daniil doesn’t seek to question it, preoccupied with eating. “Dad wasn’t thrilled with his decision. They still argue about it, sometimes. But he’s got a wife now, so dad’ll be expecting more grandkids soon.”

“Mmm, I’m glad your father is fond of your kids, and your decision to keep them,” Daniil says. He looks away as he thinks. “My parents weren’t exactly excited that I got knocked up at twenty. My mother wanted me to give them up for adoption.”

Grief looks over, eyebrows raised. “Well damn, Artemy, you didn’t tell me he was a D-I-L-F.” Daniil makes a choking noise, face flushed.

He’s not the only one embarrassed, especially with the way Grief is giving Artemy an understanding look. “Language, Grief,” Artemy warns.

“I can spell, ya know,” Murky grumbles from next to them. Though he doubts she knows what the word stands for, and she doesn’t look like she cares very much, feet tucked up on the couch, her head resting on her knees, her tongue stuck out of her mouth in concentration. Sticky hasn’t looked away from the game at all, or given any indications he’s even heard the conversation around them.

And then, just to prove Artemy wrong, Sticky pipes up. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t, Dr. Dankovsky. I like having Shrew and Cookaroo in my class, having friends that don’t care if I’ve got two parents or not. And, of course,” he turns around, and Artemy sighs at how evident it is he’s going to play up his next words, “I’m real glad you got a chance to meet my dad.”

God. Artemy can feel Grief and Lara staring at him. This whole make-our-hookups-a-real-relationship operation wasn’t going nearly the way Artemy had envisioned it going. But despite these little slipups, he hears Daniil say, “Well, I’m thankful for that, too.”

Grief is the first to leave, complaining about their back aching and how early they need to get up in the morning. It’s about half horsing around, just to give the kids the pleasure of calling them an old man. Grief feigns offence very well, almost to the point of upsetting Mishka; but in the end, Grief pats her head and tells her they’ll be back in no time. “Pop by the store with your dad and I’ll make sure you get a discount on candy,” they say, ruffling her hair. They make sure to shake hands with Daniil, who looks a little confused by the motion, before heading out, copy of Murky’s painting in hand.

Lara goes next, finished with her task of reorganizing Artemy’s kitchen. “So I won’t be able to find anything,” he jokes. Lara rolls her eyes and gives him a peck on the cheek. She appraises Daniil one last moment before offering him a gentle hug. “It was great to meet you,” he says, and sounds sincere with her words.

“Great to meet you, too,” Daniil repeats. Artemy wonders how few hugs the man gets that he manages to look perplexed by the one Lara offers him.

It’s just Artemy, his kids, and Daniil now, and Daniil busies himself soon enough, looking at the textbooks Sticky stacks on the dining room table to prepare for his homework. Daniil gives a disgusted snort at the history book in particular, muttering Useless propaganda under his breath. It makes Artemy’s whole chest flip to see how natural Daniil looks here, hovering over Murky’s shoulder and correcting her spelling as she writes. He knows Daniil has kids of his own, must spend his time doing this at home, and the fact that he comes into Artemy’s life and does it so effortlessly…

Oh, he’s moving too fast. He knows he is.

Daniil can’t stay forever. Artemy’s so tempted to ask him to spend the night, but he’s so excited to show Artemy a picture Victor’s sent of Shrew all dressed up for a tea party and Cookaroo in front of a big whiteboard explaining something animatedly that he knows he can’t hold him here. You should bring your kids over, he wants to say, but the words stick to the roof of his mouth when he tries. He just walks Daniil out to his car, turns him around against it and kisses him, his hands on Daniil’s hips. Daniil accepts the affection, leaning back against the car, only letting Artemy kiss him a few times before he pulls back. Cautiously, and guarded, he asks, “What was that for?”

Because I like you, Artemy thinks. I like the way you look like you’re watching the sun rise when I kiss you. I like that you go soft under my hands and I like that you didn’t leave when you realized Sticky was the one who texted you. “Because I want to,” Artemy says instead. He kisses Daniil again, chastely. “I’m sorry if this wasn’t the evening you had in mind –“

“Don’t worry. I can still have you in the car.” His voice is so serious, his look so intense that Artemy, for a moment, trembles. But then Daniil’s face breaks out into a grin, giggling. “Oh, your face! No, I wouldn’t do that while your kids are inside, waiting for you. Besides, I haven’t got condoms in the car.” Artemy tilts his head until it rests against Daniil’s, and Daniil plays with the fabric of his sweater. “Next time, though. We’ll go at it twice as hard.” He kisses Artemy’s jaw, and steps back to unlock his car.

He’s not joking, either. The next date they have, Daniil pins Artemy to his own front door and blows him, takes him back to the bedroom to tie him up and rides him so hard the headboard knocks against the wall and some very angry neighbors come down to slip notes under the door. And Artemy, lovesick fool that he is, punctuates each round with minutes of pointless kissing. Daniil does nothing to stop him, either, only hesitant for a second before he gives in entirely.

And then they eat dinner. It’s sort of nice, actually, Daniil more relaxed in his posture, the creases in his brow smoothed out, going on in that soft, low voice about his favorite classical poets. Where Artemy had taken as many course-related electives as possible, Daniil seemed to have just taken a handful across the board – philosophy, literature, sociology, political science, even a math class that wasn’t required by his major. It leads Artemy to the brilliant idea of taking him to the theatre on their next date, because what said classic romantic date better than theatre?

It’s not his intention to keep sleeping with him. It’s his intention to do the exact opposite of that, actually. To have a date where they don’t have sex at all. He fools himself into thinking it’ll be easy, because he’d always thought of it as a simple matter of not giving into desire.

But Daniil looks really good when he dresses up, and after the play he’s so animated in his personal thoughts on the production and direction, explaining the greater context of play’s creation and where it falls in the general mythos of ancient Greece, that Artemy gets…distracted. Distracted by the words escaping Daniil’s mouth that aren’t in Latin or in Russian, but they sound so gorgeous between the moans that Artemy has to hear him make them more, make them louder, and he’s chasing his own orgasm before it occurs to him that this is exactly what he was trying not to do.

(Polish. He finds out during a slow moment at work that Daniil’s pleas were in Polish, and Andrey looks over his shoulder with his mouth dropped open. “You got him speaking Polish?!”)

So he takes Daniil to an art exhibit, and finds that Daniil knows the painter. It’s Andrey’s brother, in his off time from St. Kain’s. His art is bizarre, frankly. There’s something depressing about it all, and Artemy’s fingers intertwine with Daniil’s as they walk through the gallery. It turns from them walking side-by-side to Daniil leading Artemy, asking him his opinion of pieces and debating him on interpretations. Artemy thought he could rest easy for the night, but there was some truth to what Grief had said about him being into men he couldn’t agree with, because when they get back to Daniil’s apartment they’re grinding against each other in the hallway, and Artemy’s reaching down the front of his slacks to rub Daniil’s swollen cock, rutting his own against Daniil’s thigh.

He takes Daniil to see a stupid movie, thinking the lack of intellectual stimulation will result in a more chaste evening; they wind up fucking in the car. Artemy takes Daniil to a nice restaurant to celebrate a work anniversary; he eats Daniil out on the couch. He has Daniil come over to his place to make dinner for him after a long week at work, stressing how taxing it’s been; Daniil dons a strap-on and fucks him into the mattress. They go for a walk around the city, just spending some quiet time together; now Artemy’s taking him from behind, pressed up against the wall.

It’s not like he’s saying no to any of it. It’s not even like he wants to, really, his lips pressed to Daniil’s jaw as his hips snap. He likes the way Daniil looks when he’s being pleasured, the way he sounds, how close and intimate it is to lay with him in the aftermath, Daniil’s naked body tucked against his, feeling his heartbeat in the thrum of his skin. He likes the way they connect, the noises Daniil makes, sucking in a breath now and slipping out little cries as Artemy’s thrusts grow rough. “Oh, yes, Artemy –“ He goes tight around Artemy’s cock, and Artemy sinks his teeth into Daniil’s neck. Two more thrusts and he’s coming himself.

At least they kiss after they have sex now. It’s a feeble consolation to Artemy, who wants Daniil to know his worth outside of what they do in the bedroom, the car, the hallway, the couch, the bathroom…

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Grief admits. Artemy has another date with Daniil coming up this week, and he’s been scratching his brain raw trying to figure out a way to keep the date from getting dirty. The problem is there’s no exact trigger, no one thing that makes him more likely to be seduced. The only thing that seems to keep them from going at it is when they can’t, surrounded by other people. “The doc likes having sex. Seemed pretty clear to me he likes you, in particular. So he likes having sex with you, specifically. Seems like a win-win to me.”

“I need him to know it’s more than just sex to me,” Artemy says. He’s got a list on the table of date ideas, about half of them crossed out. He’s about ready to just have Daniil over for dinner with the kids again, but their schedules have been tricky the past week. The last time they had alone was sharing a break together, in which Daniil showed Artemy a video of Shrew practicing for her part in the school play, her brother reading the opposing lines of the script from offscreen. Maybe he could go over and have dinner with Daniil’s family? Daniil would have to be the one to invite him, though.

“Has it occurred to you to just say it?” They drive a finger against Artemy’s forehead, and Artemy twitches under it, looking at them. Grief’s eyebrows are raised. “You got a good head on your shoulders, Cub, but sometimes you don’t use it. Come on. Just tell him how you feel.”

“That’s why I’m looking for a date where we don’t have sex, Grief. Otherwise, it’s just gonna sound like I’m saying it in the heat of the moment.” Which he has considered doing, too. Daniil had his Polish, and Artemy had his steppe slipping out, telling Daniil how beautiful he was, how cherished. Daniil had yet to ask him what any of it meant, and he’d been hoping that would be the gateway to The Conversation.

Grief steals a few fries off his plate. “As long as you don’t stick your foot in your mouth, Cub,” they say, leaning back in their booth. “Don’t scare this one off.”

“Is this your version of giving me your approval?” Grief shrugs. “That means more to me than it probably does to you,” Artemy admits.

“Look, Cub, I don’t care who you settle down with. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” They tap the table. “That’s why I’m tellin’ you, don’t overthink this too much. You’ve been on how many dates now? And you said the doc doesn’t date, but he’s still going out with you.”

“But that’s just because he thinks the dates are payment for sex,” Artemy elaborates.

“God, Cub, don’t you hear how ridiculous that is?” They shake their head. “You said the guy was into you when you went out for the first time. He said somethin’ about you blowin’ him off?” It’s not the exact turn of phrase he’d used, but it was close enough. “Don’t this sound a little rom-commy to you? What’re the chances he’s been playing the long con, getting you to agree to dates in the hopes you’ll fall for him?”

Okay, he knew Daniil could be a prick, but that seemed like a little much, even for him. “No way. After the first date, I initiated all the others. If he knew we were together, he’d be scheduling them himself.” His stomach drops. “What if he’s changed his mind? What if he only ever meant that he liked me sexually before? What if –“

“What if you quit overthinking it and asked him the damned question?” Grief rolls their eyes, grabbing the carton off Artemy’s tray. “I’m confiscatin’ these, ‘til you pull your head out your ass.”

DRAFTS

* Hey daniil, is it ok
if i ask you
something kinda
important over txt?

* Hey daniil, next
time you come
over i wanna try
something different

* Danya, will you be
my boyfriend?

* Danya, do you think
we’re dating?

* Daniil, why did you
never go out w
andrey but you’ll go
out w me?

* Hey daniil i know
it’s late but i just
wanna say ily

* Daniil dankovsky i
have feelings for you

Artemy sighs, thumb pressed to click and hold down on each individual message, collecting them up and deleting them all in one go. Doing it over text was the quick choice, the straightforward one, but it felt cowardly not to have the conversation for real. Daniil deserved more than that. He used to hate being dumped over the phone, and doing it over text couldn’t be any better. He flips his phone around in his hand, making his round before his next scheduled surgery.

Daniil’s hanging by the nurse’s station, listening to Andrey gripe about something as he looks over a file with a small scowl on his face. It’s not his best expression, for sure, but Artemy thinks he looks good even like this. “Long time, no see, emshen.”

He looks up, and his expression changes to something approximating amusement. “It hasn’t even been a week, Burakh. Have you really missed me that much?” Behind them, Andrey makes a gagging noise. The nurse next to him giggles. Artemy shrugs, letting himself look embarrassed by the comment. “I know the feeling.”

“Walk with me to my next appointment?” Daniil nods, handing the file back to the nurse. “You’ve had your schedule moved around a lot. The kids doing alright?”

“Oh, they’re fine. They’re perfectly thrilled. I’m the one who’s in trouble,” Daniil sighs. Artemy looks down at him with some alarm on his face. Daniil catches it, at pats his arm. “Nothing here, Artemy. Nothing serious. Just a wedding coming up, and the family will be having at me again.”

Here’s an opportunity, looking him right in the face. “If you need a date, Daniil, I can go with you.”

His eyes linger on his body, but not in a way that feels at all sexual to him. More like he’s spaced out, trying to decide what direction to take. He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “The thought had occurred to me,” he admits. “But that would be asking an awful lot of you. My family can be difficult.”

“I’ve met Maria.” Daniil laughs abruptly. It’s his rarer laugh, the one that Artemy always feels privileged to listen to. It isn’t delicate, or practiced, a little wheezing, and Artemy loves it the most. “Seriously, Daniil. I’d like to accompany you, if you’ll give me the chance.” He hopes those words speak the volumes he is trying to communicate.

“Shrew and Cookaroo will be with us,” Daniil warns.

“Sounds perfect,” Artemy counters. “Tell me what day and time, and I’ll make sure to get someone to cover my shifts.” He watches Daniil’s teeth pull at his lips, until he sighs, giving in. Daniil pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking at his calendar app.

“The 19^th. The ceremony is at four, but it’s a bit of a drive, and the family wants to get together at two. I’ll be leaving town at one, so I have an excuse to miss it.” Artemy pulls out his own phone to get it all down, and text his dad to ask him to watch the kids. Murky will be fine, but Sticky’ll probably complain that he’s never been to a wedding before. Just wait until Yulia and Lara get married, then he’ll have an invite for sure. And Artemy can bring Daniil as a date.

Daniil is looking at him tentatively, some light behind those eyes that Artemy doesn’t quite understand. Artemy offers his softest smile, nudging Daniil’s shoulder. “All good, emshen? Think your family will like me?”

Please understand why it’s important to me that they do. Daniil hums, tapping his pen against his teeth. “Well, they’ll appreciate for certain that you’re a surgeon. They won’t appreciate that you’re not Jewish, though.” Artemy blinks in surprise. That’s something Daniil hadn’t graced him with. Apparently he hadn’t thought it relevant, and still doesn’t, turning on his heel. “But then, neither is the girl Nastya’s marrying.”

And there he has it. A date, surrounded by people, surrounded by family, no chance of sex at all. To top it all off, it’s a wedding, something Artemy feels is not the sort of family gathering where you bring just anyone who’ll go along. Hadn’t Daniil said he’d thought about asking Artemy? That, too, made his chest swell with pride. Clearly, despite everything, he was making some sort of progress in this relationship.

The date isn’t too far off, either. It’s just enough time for Artemy to get his shift for the day of and the day after switched around and explain to the kids why he’ll be gone then. He just has to wait for his dad to send the expected winking emoji in response to Artemy’s request he watch the kids for it, and things are looking pretty set.

It’s a little bit funny. He’s always pictured himself marrying the people he developed crushes on, imagining wedding scenarios to pass the time when trying to fall asleep. It had taken him a while to move on after his marriage fell apart, and he was expecting the same trudging reluctance when Stakh turned him down. But now, he hasn’t thought about Stakh in a month, at least. The last holdover he has is his number in his cell phone, just in case the man decides to come back to their friendship. Which is looking less and less likely with each passing day.

On Monday the week of, he encounters an argument. He knows it by the low and aggravated tones of the voices he overhears, and knows before he enters the room it’ll be nothing but trouble inside. And indeed: it’s Stakh and Daniil, each man looking just seconds away from throttling the other. It wasn’t exactly abnormal to see Dankovsky bickering with someone, but Stakh was typically better at ducking his head down and just doing work as expected. Of course, that had been when Isidor was in charge. Now that it was Daniil, Stakh had been a lot less eager to please. Daniil clears his throat when he sees Artemy come in, and Artemy can tell he’s exercising a lot of restraint on the basis of Artemy’s presence. “Rubin, please. I’m needed in another section. Just run the test. I can basically assure you it’s kidney stones.”

“You’re not the only one with work to do. I have my rounds.” So why wasn’t he doing them? “Get one of the nurses to do it.”

“Andrey’s in with them right now, but he can’t run this test. We’re understaffed –“

“So you do it,” Stakh snaps. “You really think because Isidor promoted you before he retired that you’re the boss of everyone.”

“I am literally your superior,” he grinds out. “And this isn’t that difficult! I just need you to run a few cursory tests. That’s it.”

“If it’s so simple, then you do it. Or are you just trying to flaunt to everyone how you slept your way to the top?” Daniil doesn’t look perturbed by Rubin’s words, and that probably should tell Artemy something about the routine with which they’re uttered.

But Artemy hears it break inside his head, and steps between them. “That’s enough,” he says to Stakh. “That’s not an appropriate way to a colleague, Rubin.”

“Hey, guys, I know you’re busy bitchin’ in here, but I could really use some help downstairs.” Artemy and Daniil turn their heads to acknowledge Andrey, but Rubin ignores him. He turns that scowl from Danill to Artemy, teeth bared.

“What do you care? You used to hate him too, you know, until you started whoring yourself out to him.” Artemy feels his cheeks flush, advancing on him. “What are you going to do, Burakh? Hit me? What a way to pick up your father’s legacy.”

“I just might if you don’t shut your mouth,” Artemy hisses. “You know what you’re saying is horseshit, and I don’t care for the way you’re dragging my dad into this, too.” He takes the chart from Daniil’s hand, shoving it in Rubin’s face. “You’re still in training. Just do your damn job.” Artemy takes a breath, trying to collect himself, to be more empathetic to Stakh’s frustrations. They used to be friends. There had to be something still there. “It’s what my father would want,” he says, when his tone is more even. “He left the responsibility to Daniil –“

“And how many dicks did he suck to get to get that level of immanence?”

Artemy’s jaw clicks shut. “Stakh, I’m warning you.”

“You know how open his legs are, you’ve been between them.” Stakh looks past Artemy, to Daniil. “And how was he, slut? As good as his father?”

He reaches out and grabs a fistful of Stakh’s scrubs, but before he can start swinging he’s being dragged back by somebody decidedly shorter than himself. It’s not Daniil, who’s grabbing the charts from Rubin’s hand and storming off, but Andrey, patting his arm. “Deep breaths, big guy.” He looks up to Rubin. “Boy, fuck you, Stanislav. If we weren’t on hospital time, I’d help him kick your ass. Now get lost. Go do your damn rounds or something.”

Rubin glares as he leaves, and Artemy glares right back. Andrey finally drops his arms, surprisingly strong for someone that much smaller than Artemy. Or maybe Artemy didn’t really want to fight in the first place, damn his bleeding heart. Without turning, he asks, “Do you know where Daniil went?”

“Probably to take care of those kidney stones.” He looks at his watch, and swears. “I’m supposed to be on break, but you know the room number if you need something.” Artemy nods absently. He has his own work to attend to, unable to follow Daniil down to the ER to talk to him about whatever the hell that was he just dealt with. And here he was going to offer to do it for him, but Daniil wasn’t kidding about being understaffed. In the moments he’s not needed in surgery he finds himself running between other sections, pitching in where he can.

If he has to call Daniil when he gets off work, so be it. But just when he thinks he won’t be seeing him again, he catches the man in the break room, cup of coffee rested on the table, looking exhausted.

“Daniil,” Artemy sighs. “I wanted to apologize about what happened earlier.”

Daniil straightens his back, looking at Artemy with narrowed eyes. “You should be sorry, Burakh. This is a hospital, you can’t be fighting on the premises. It’s bad enough Grief brings that in the ER three days out of the week, you don’t need to carry it on you like dust.”

Artemy blinks, a little taken aback. “No, I’m not apologizing for that. I’m not sorry for that in the least.” He runs his tongue across his lips, trying to calm himself down. “I’m apologizing for what Rubin said.”

He rolls his eyes. “Artemy, I’m well aware you didn’t like me when we first started working together. Honestly, I was skeptical about you, too. I know what nepotism looks like, that’s why I never defaulted to working at St. Kain’s. But,” he taps his fingers against the side of his mug, “You surprised me. And I could see your hire wasn’t simply because you were your father’s son, though you are your father’s son.” He flushes a little, and opens his mouth twice before he gets the next words out. “I don’t know how that sounded, but for your information, I never slept with your father.”

“I didn’t think you had. And that’s what I meant, either. That’s not what I was apologizing for.” He runs a tired hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “It’s the way he talked to you, that must have been embarrassing.” Daniil laughs at him. Artemy frowns. “Don’t tell me you get called those things often?”

“Of course I do, have you met me? Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt.” His smirk softens, sighing. “Look, I’m not embarrassed by that. I think it’s pretty obvious I didn’t get this position from sleeping around, only an idiot would really think that. What’s the worst thing that comes of it? That people know I enjoy having sex?” He claps a hand to his cheek, mocking surprise. “Oh no, the horror! What’ll I do if people know I enjoy doing something pleasurable? What are you, Artemy, a Catholic?” Daniil shakes his head, the hint of a laugh still pulling at his lips. “Anyway, why do you care, hm? You were just using me for sex to get back at him. Well, it worked. It pissed him off. If you don’t want to go to the wedding, then –“

“If you still think this is about Rubin, then you’re a lot dumber than I thought you were.” Classic Artemy. Open mouth, insert foot. Daniil’s lips are pursed, and the thought at the front of Artemy’s brain is that this isn’t how he planned to do it. He planned to say it at the wedding, maybe during a dance, whispered in his ear. But no, he had to give himself an opening in the worst way possible. He’s beginning to see why he never got second dates. “So yes, I’m still going with you. And I’m telling your relatives I’m your boyfriend. Do you have any problems with that?” His lips are pressed tight together, not in anger, but as though he’s thinking particularly hard about something. “Good,” Artemy says, and because he has other things he needs to do today, he leaves.

He takes a cab to Daniil’s place about an hour before they’re supposed to leave, his stuff crammed into an overnight bag. He doesn’t need much, but he keeps checking and rechecking his things to make sure it’s all there, just to give himself something to do. Daniil, at least, doesn’t look perturbed about the past couple of days, not that they’ve really had time to mention it or talk. Artemy’s thinks he’s taken to the news of their relationship remarkably well. It’s that, or he doesn’t really know what to make of it, and Artemy’s trying to remain positive.

Grief has the kids for the day, and Lara the day after, at her own insistence. He’d thought his dad could handle them, but instead of the winky face he expected in return to his request, he’d had another bomb dropped in his lap: His dad was also going to the wedding as someone’s date. Things just keep getting weirder and weirder.

That’s not his problem to deal with, though. Daniil has packed a small suitcase, neat and efficient, his stuff waiting by the front door. Artemy had thought about greeting him with a peck on the lips, but when Daniil opens the door to him he’s unsure, settling for one on the cheek instead. Daniil still seems to ruffle under the affection, face tinged with red as he lets Artemy inside.

Artemy sets his own bag next to Daniil’s and the kids. It fills him with warmth, to be here when the kids are around, sitting at the table with their cereal. Cookaroo has book propped open on the table, spoon almost missing his mouth as he tries to read and eat at the same time. Artemy’s not sure if he should try and introduce himself to Cookaroo or not, given how preoccupied he seems, but Shrew’s head pops up when she sees him in her peripheral vision. He watches her kick under the table and say “Hey!” to her brother, pointing at Artemy.

Cookaroo looks up, and his eyes go wide. “Wow! You’re huge!”

“I’m not that big,” Artemy says, brushing imaginary dust from his sweater. “Your dad’s just short. And so are you, for now.” He holds a hand out, and tries to think if it’s weird to shake a kid’s hand. “I’m Artemy, by the way. I’m Sticky’s dad.”

The kid takes it all the same. He doesn’t introduce himself, still blinking at Artemy’s frame. “Is Sticky gonna get that big when he’s old?”

“It depends on his mother’s genetics,” Daniil says from around Artemy’s elbow. He’s got a travel mug of coffee in each hand, nudging Artemy with his right elbow to get his attention. Artemy accepts it, nodding. He doesn’t even ask before he takes a sip, feeling touched when he realizes it’s exactly how he always takes his coffee. Daniil took note. He’s not facing Artemy at the moment, pensive look in place as he considers his son’s question. “I’d say it’s fairly likely.”

Given who his mother is, Artemy thinks. He wonders how much Daniil has told his kids about his family’s history. He wonders if these kids had ever met Aglaya. She didn’t seem all that fond of children, when they were together, even after having her own. He can’t help but feel like he inadvertently backed her into a corner. No wonder she left.

Daniil touches his bicep, shaking him gently to get his attention. Artemy tries to smile, but that fear bites at him when he looks down. He hopes he’s not backing Daniil into a corner, too. But the smile Daniil gives him is encouraging before he makes his way to Cookaroo, picking up his book. “You can finish reading this in the car. We’ve got to get going soon. Finish your cereal.”

The kids, remarkably, don’t bicker the way Artemy’s do when it comes to picking seats. Sticky usually tries to argue his way to the front, but Cookaroo and Shrew both are too busy bickering about something else to bother with the fight for the front seat – or perhaps they realize the adult gets to sit in the front, where Sticky still tries to call shotgun. They keep themselves busy on the way up, though Artemy can hear them whispering loudly to each other from time to time, as if planning something of their own. And the ride, for the most part, is easy, only taking one break for Daniil to get out and stretch his legs. Artemy offers to continue the drive for him, but Daniil shakes him off.

When they get back in the car, Artemy places his hand over Daniil’s. Daniil doesn’t mention it, and nor does he shake him off.

They reach their hotel with enough time for Daniil to change before his phone goes off, plastering a fake smile on his face to answer as his kids fight for control of the television remote. Artemy had been told to wear something ‘business casual’ and had opted for nice slacks, nice shoes, a turtleneck and a blazer. Daniil, however, must not have understood the meaning of the term. The closest to ‘casual’ his outfit came was in the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a black shirt offsetting his pale skin, white tie and deep red vest and nice, trimmed black trousers over stupidly fancy shoes. Artemy usually felt like a mess in comparison, but this time it was Daniil who looked overdressed.

“Are you ready?” Artemy didn’t realize the man had finished his conversation and turned to face him. Daniil’s mouth is pulled back in hesitation, and Artemy wonders if the question is really for Artemy, or for Daniil himself. Artemy nods all the same, standing and taking Daniil’s hand to squeeze.

The wedding itself is fine. It’s beautiful, actually. Both brides are decked out in gorgeous, flowing white gowns, each with a veil and flowers. He can tell which is Daniil’s cousin by the cut of her jaw and the deep brown of her eyes, though her hair is shades lighter. Her wife is thinner, taller, with red curls and dimples in her cheeks, and he’s never seen two people so excited to be married before. Had this been what he looked like on his wedding day? He hadn’t looked back at the photos, not since the divorce. It all felt too raw, too bitter.

He looks at Daniil, and finds him stiff, mouth tugged into a tight smile. Artemy slips his hand under Daniil’s, bringing it to his mouth to kiss. Daniil’s eyes flicker over to his for a moment, allowing his expression to soften, squeezing his fingers around the back of Artemy’s hand.

The reception at least starts off nice, family milling about and talking. Shrew and Cookaroo run off as soon as they spot their cousins, Maria and a younger boy who could be Victor’s clone. Victor waves to Artemy across the way, and Artemy waves back before his attention is caught by some approaching women. Daniil goes rigid beside him as they come closer, though it’s clear he’s trying to calm himself. “Diana, Elena,” he greets, voice flat. “Lovely to see you again.” Clearly, it isn’t. “This is –“

Artemy offers his hand, and his biggest smile. “Artemy Burakh,” he says. “I’m Daniil’s –“

“Oh, the latest boytoy,” Artemy feels himself flinch. The fact that Daniil looks neither surprised nor upset gives him the idea that he should expect more of this. The woman’s long, red nails scrape against the back of his hand as she shakes it. “A good grip, this one. Keeping him for longer?”

“If not,” the other says, “I have a daughter in search of a husband.” She appraises Artemy’s frame, nose crinkled. He’d try and suck in his stomach a little more, if he cared at all what this woman’s opinion of him was. “Going chubby this season, are you?”

“He’s a surgeon,” Daniil informs them, though he doesn’t seem all that invested in winning them over. “And his father’s here as well. You can’t have missed Simon’s date, Isidor Burakh?” Both women turn to look at where Simon is seated, a baby on his lap, Artmey’s father hovering over. Artemy uses it as an excuse to take his hand back, and makes a note to speak to his father about all this later.

“Oh, so you’ve landed a real prize.” The second woman – Elena, he thinks – looks at him with more approval, and Artemy feels like a bug under a magnifying glass. “Do keep his number in your rolodex, then, whenever you’re finished.”

“I don’t –“ They turn and leave before Daniil has a chance to finish his sentence. He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, that was tame,” he mumbles. Artemy hopes, really hopes, that it’s not an indication of things to come.

But, of course, his hopes are dashed. He used to think, at the beginning of their working history, that Daniil was snobby and condescending. Actually, that’s putting it mildly: Daniil absolutely was snobby and condescending, and Artemy thought he was an irredeemable ass. He couldn’t see why his father wanted him to get along with the man so badly, why he thought they’d be a ‘good fit’ to work in tandem. Things changed over the course of a few years. Daniil became more compassionate, understood more about the people he served. It wasn’t as though Artemy didn’t have his own faults to deal with, either, and working through those issues side-by-side drew them closer, even before Artemy crossed that line.

Daniil’s relatives, on the other hand, are every bit as patronizing and snooty as Daniil had once been. Not all of them are terrible. Simon is quite jovial, and there are a handful of cousins who catch Daniil up on the lives of their kids without making a single comment about the nature of his relationship to Artemy. There are just one too many who give him those soft smiles that hide something Artemy does not like, knowing all the time what they’re thinking.

They’re seated at a table, Shrew and Cookaroo having just gotten up again to play with second cousins their own age when a woman with heavy mascara leans across the table, martini glass between her fingers, and says, “So.” She looks from Daniil to Artemy, and Artemy feels Daniil sigh next to him. “Is this the newest model, Danya? He’s a little heavy, don’t you think?”

“I’m right here,” Artemy says coolly.

“Yes, darling, you are. What do you want, a treat?” She takes a sip, and sets the glass back down on the table. “You’ll be getting it as soon as you hit the hotel, if he even waits that long. I’m sure the bathroom doors have locks –“

“Must you do this when we’re surrounded by children?” Daniil asks. The horrifying thing, to Artemy, is how bored his voice sounds. “Can you not wait to do this once the kids have gone to bed?”

“She shouldn’t be doing this at all,” Artemy says. He narrows his eyes toward her. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, and I don’t care. I’m Daniil’s boyfriend. I came here as his date, his plus one. I wasn’t paid to be here, I came to spend time with him outside of work.”

“Really,” she drawls. She runs her finger over the lip of the glass, resting her chin on her hand. “Tell me, then, Artemy dear, have you been on a first date? And going at it in the back seat of his car doesn’t count as a – “

“January 21^st,” Artemy cuts her off. “I had a shorter shift that day. We met and went to this small seafood restaurant downtown. He wore a white button-down, a red cravat a few shades lighter than his vest, black pinstripe pants, and his gloves. We each had a glass of pinot noir, and we talked about work, as you do on first dates with coworkers.”

He can feel Daniil’s eyes on him, posture straightened. The woman in front of him blinks, clearly not expecting his answer. “Did you –“

“I was nervous to ask him out again, so I waited. I kept trying, and words kept failing me, so I waited until the perfect opportunity dropped into my lap. I asked him to come over, I gave him a massage, and I made him dinner. Pasta, and we talked about family.” The woman looks perplexed. “Would you like to hear about the third date? The fourth? The first time we kissed? It would be cheating to say when he met my kids, since his kids go to school with mine, but I could tell you about the first time he made me dinner, what art exhibits we went to, what movies we saw.”

She looks from Artemy to Daniil, and clears her throat. “Clearly, you’ve learned how to show a man a good time outside of the bedroom.” Artemy snorts, but Daniil isn’t looking at the aunt or whatever she is talking to them. “Make sure you don’t lose this one, Danya. Or throw him away.”

“That’s a piss poor excuse for an apology,” Artemy seethes. “I don’t particularly care what you think of our relationship, but don’t you dare talk to him like that in front of his kids.” He says it just in time for Shrew and Cookaroo to return to the table, Shrew babbling about some magic trick Simon showed her and Cookaroo tugging on Artemy’s sleeve to show him a page of his book. He misses the aunt or whatever she is getting up and leaving. He doesn’t care.

The brides have their first dance, and Artemy watches with one hand stretched out on the table. When it’s over, Daniil tugs on Artemy’s hand, pulling him out to the dance floor. This is the moment he’d had envisioned, the one where he’d tell Daniil about his feelings. “I don’t really know how to do this,” he says, “So you’ll have to lead.” Daniil nods, and begins their dance with one hand guiding Artemy’s hip.

Once they’ve got a pattern down, Daniil tugs on his blazer, and Artemy tilts his head down. He notices that Daniil looks cautious, but isn’t sure how to mention it. When Daniil breathes, it almost sounds wet. “Artemy,” he says, and his fingers trace over Artemy’s knuckles, “How long has this been real to you? This – our relationship.”

“From the second date on,” Artemy says. Daniil pushes him out to spin him, and pulls him back. It’s clear from his expression now that he’s flustered. Artemy puts his lips to Daniil’s ear, and asks, “How about you? Is it real for you yet?”

“It’s always been real for me,” Daniil mumbles. “That’s what I meant, when I said I’d been chasing after you. Not just to get you in bed, but I didn’t know what else to do. I thought it was all you wanted. I thought that was all I would get.” Artemy kisses his hairline, swaying with him. He listens to Daniil sniff. “Meminerunt omnia amantes. This is ridiculous. I’ve been in a relationship for more than three months and not even noticed. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was waiting for the perfect moment. A date where we wouldn’t have sex –“

Daniil laughs, choked out. “If I like a guy, if it’s serious, I want to have even more.” He tilts his head until it rests against Artemy’s chin, and sighs. “I told you. I like to have sex. And I like you. I like to have sex with you. It’s not a problem for me.”

“I was worried you’d think I was saying something in the heat of the moment,” Artemy admits. “I didn’t want to tell you I was falling for you and have you freak out.” He smirks. “I was actually planning on doing it like this. It seemed romantic, telling you at a wedding.” He pauses, frowning. “But – wait, the other day. What did you think I meant when I said it wasn’t about Rubin anymore? Or that I was going to tell your relatives I’m your boyfriend?”

He shrugs. “You know the saying. To get over someone, get under someone new. You could have just gotten over him by regularly getting laid.” Artemy feels his sigh across his neck. “But that’s not very like you, is it? I just assumed things would be different, because it’s me.”

“That’s quite an ego you have there, emshen, to think my entire personality would pivot just for you.” Daniil steps on his toes, deliberately. Artemy hisses, but it covers a laugh. “No, Daniil. Danya, Danechka… I like you. I like you a lot. I might love you. Given a few more dates, I will.” He feels Daniil’s forehead come to rest on his shoulder, his fingers curling on Artemy’s waist. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Another sniff. “You were pulling back because you wanted to tell me how you felt,” Daniil summarizes. It hadn’t occurred to Artemy that he could tell he was trying to keep their dates more chaste. “I thought that you were losing interest.” Artemy curls a hand up Daniil’s back to pull him closer, and Daniil says. “As for my own feelings…I will keep those to myself so I don’t freak you out.” Artemy kisses his neck. “But you won’t be disappointed to hear them, I think.”  Daniil pulls back, to look at him, and moves his hand to Artemy’s cheek. “But rest assured, I like you too, Artemy. I like you a lot.”

For the first time, but not the last, Daniil initiates a kiss.

Artemy feels the same thrum of anticipation ringing the doorbell as he always has, and thinks to himself, This will never get old. If they get into a rhythm, move in together, combine households, he’ll still feel this excitement coming home to Daniil on days their shifts don’t align. When he knocks, it doesn’t take long for Daniil to open the door, face flushed as he does. It’s probably just the warmth, dressed as he is in his heated little apartment, but Artemy would like to entertain the idea that the blush is for him. Daniil accepts the flowers in the same movement he goes to pull Artemy down by the neck of his sweater, lips pursed to catch him over and over.

“Can I come inside?” Artemy asks. Daniil steps back and into the hallway, and shuts the door behind him. He looks perfect, exactly as Artemy had figured he would, hair brushed back out of his face the only difference between today and the wedding. “You look dashing as always, Danya.”

“You’re the one who requested the outfit,” he points out, heading into his kitchen. Artemy follows him, and notices for the first time there’s a painting hanging up on his fridge with a familiar signature. It’s a bull, and Murky atop it, hanging just as proudly as any of his own children’s things. Daniil fetches a vase and fills it with water, setting the flowers inside and onto the table. And Artemy makes sure to be there before he turns, arms wrapped around his middle and lips pressed to his neck. He rests his weight against Daniil, and the shorter man hums. “You came over fairly early for dinner,” Daniil comments.

“Indeed I did,” Artemy agrees. His left hand comes up to fiddle with Daniil’s tie. “Any suggestions on how we could spend the time?”

Daniil gives it a moment of consideration. “Well, you know what I’d suggest,” he says, “But we could always watch a movie instead.” Artemy’s right hand moves to settle on his hip. “Both would be nice. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“I agree. Both would be nice.” He digs his teeth into Daniil’s jaw, and pushes him back against his lap. “One, and then the other.”

“I was really hoping you’d say something like that,” Daniil sighs. He turns in Artemy’s arms, and pushes him back, until he’s leaning against the counter. “Though ideally, it would be bed, movie, bed, dinner, bed again. Before we fall asleep, that is.” Daniil pushes up onto his toes, and kisses him softly. “We had your chaste date at the wedding. It wasn’t very nice of you to be so attractive when I couldn’t have you.”

“Me?” Artemy grins, and tugs on Daniil’s tie. “Why do you think I had you put this on, hm?” His left hand slides back, squeezing Daniil’s ass. “Did you have to wear pants that fit you like this? I wasn’t interested in proving those relatives of yours right, but I’ll be damned if finding some secluded corner to hook up in didn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Oh, I couldn’t care less what they’d have to say,” Daniil purrs, kissing Artemy’s jaw. “I would have taken you in the bathroom if I thought you were the type to go for public sex.”

Artemy lets the color rise in his cheeks, pulling Daniil closer to him. “It wouldn’t have been my first time in a public place.” Daniil pulls back to look at him, pupils blown wide, staring quite unashamedly. Artemy smirks, and lets him look. “I have been in other relationships, you know. And I get aroused in all sorts of circumstances, even if it’s not as frequently as you do.”

“Hm. Food for thought.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything, but Daniil isn’t pushing it. “For now, though, I’ve got a bed that needs unmaking. Care to help me out?” Artemy follows, and when they fall on the bed, it’s with lips attached. They take a couple seconds to toss off their shoes, and for a few moments all they do is kiss, Artemy’s weight resting on Daniil’s body until he feels a hand move between them to start undressing. Artemy pushes it aside, straddling Daniil’s hips and unbuttoning him slowly. Daniil lets him, and watches his work. Artemy’s hands run up his side, and Daniil’s squirms under him.

His hips buck and rub against Artemy’s lap. “Always so impatient, kheerkhen.” He traces Daniil’s ribs, and watches him shudder under his fingers. “I like you this way,” he says, “Your hands above your head, your shirt undone, your hair a mess. It looks good on you.”

“You like me anyway,” Daniil says. Artemy leans forward, kissing his collar, up to his neck. He grinds against Daniil’s lap as he moves, kissing up to his ear. “You know,” Daniil says, his voice coming out high in his throat, “I think this is the first time you’ve come onto me so strong.”

“It is,” Artemy grins, and rolls his hips. “This is our first time on the same page. I want you to know what I’m feeling every step of the way.”

“Right now, you feel hard,” Daniil teases, pushing up against him. “I can help you with that.” Artemy reaches out to Daniil’s slacks, undoing the clasps of his belt, unbuttoning the top and unzipping the fly. Daniil paws at his lap, grinding the heel of his palm against the outline of his erection. Artemy leans into it, and lets Daniil break the kiss long enough to tug at his own button and zip, down to his thighs. Artemy moves forward out of them, climbing overtop of Daniil and between his legs. Daniil wraps his arm around Artemy’s neck, pulling him down to a surprisingly delicate kiss.

He moves to straddle Daniil’s right thigh, grunting when Daniil’s knee pushes up against his cock. He lets himself rock against it, and slip his hand down the front of Daniil’s boxers. He’s unsurprised but delighted all the same to find his partner wet, and growing wetter when Daniil sucks Artemy’s tongue into his mouth. Artemy grinds his fingers between his folds, listening to Daniil grind out a noise of frustration before his head drops back to the bed, fingers hooking under the band of his boxers, tugging them off to spread his legs. Artemy uses his whole hand to rub his cock, fingers sliding down to press one against his entrance.

Daniil accepts it easily, thighs falling flat on the bed. Artemy dips his head to kiss Daniil’s neck, digging into the skin. Daniil curls a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands, and Artemy’s fingers thrust a little harder. He hums, and Artemy listens, following where his body says to go. “Daniil,” he mumbles against the man’s skin, “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m feeling wet,” he says, rocking his hips down, pushing Artemy’s fingers further inside. Artemy drags his fingers, and Daniil’s body clamps down around them. “Mmm, and I’m feeling…touched. I’m feeling different.”

“Different,” Artemy repeats. He spreads his fingers, rubbing them against Daniil’s walls, and listens to him moan, back arching. His lips move to the shell of Daniil’s ear, sliding his hand back and forth evenly. “Different, how? Different, good?”

“Very good.” Artemy pulls his head back to look at him. “I feel – I don’t know. Something’s changed. You’re going to give me something I haven’t had in a long time.”

“A long time? Oh, no, have you been faking it?” It must be evident enough that he’s joking, as Daniil slaps his arm before he starts to lavish kisses on the other side of his neck. Artemy grins, third finger pushing inside and stretching. Daniil’s other hand goes to his back, gripping the fabric of his sweater tightly between his fingers, tugging at him. Artemy feels his digits pulled deeper inside, and his cock throbs.

“The way you touch me,” Daniil says. “You’re one of those sappy types who calls it ‘making love,’ aren’t you?” Artemy curls his finger and Daniil goes taut around him, hips trying to roll into his hand.

“Maybe I am.”  Artemy says. He pulls back again to watch Daniil’s expression as he toys with him, mouth open and pleading. He moves his fingers out with Daniil’s body still grasping for them, the frustration of nearly missed pleasure settling on his features. “What do you feel about that, if it’s true?”

Daniil looks up, and reaches to grab the sides of Artemy’s face. Artemy falls on top of him, stomach jiggling as Daniil captures his mouth. “Good,” he says, kissing him soundly, cheeks cupped in his palms. “I thought you might be, back when we first met. I thought you’d be the last person to sleep with me. I didn’t ever think I’d want you to be.”

“Yeah?” Daniil nods, fingers slipping under Artemy’s boxers. “What changed?”

“Working with you, seeing how much you really care for your patients. I’ve always struggled with empathy, but you…you empathized even with me, when I didn’t deserve it.” He tugs Artemy’s boxers down his hips, watching the movement as he wiggles free of them. His hand circles Artemy’s cock, stroking him slowly. “And hearing your kids talk about you. I’ll admit, your parenting is very sexy.” His thumb rubs over the slit, smirking as Artemy bucks into his hand. “And for you, let’s see. Learning I’m a father? That seems to correlate to when you gained interest.”

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation, doctor,” Artemy says, taking Daniil’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know how to describe when it happened. I couldn’t begin to explain why. But my lines draw me to you, and I think they always have. Dad could see it, that’s why he tried to set us up at the beginning.”

His nose scrunches, arousal fleeing for a moment to be replaced by confusion. “Is that what he was doing? I thought he wanted me to favor you for shifts or something.” Artemy opens his mouth to say another piece has fallen into place, that he’d thought all those extra shifts were Daniil’s way of tormenting him, but it doesn’t really matter. He closes his mouth and opens Daniil’s drawer, fishing around for the box of condoms and –

“It’s empty.” Daniil frowns at him, pushing himself upright to root through the drawer with one hand, Artemy still practically seated in his lap. “We must have used the last one the last time I was over.” Daniil closes the drawer again, quiet.

It’s not like they’re lacking in ways to have sex, and he wouldn’t mind using his hands to bring Daniil to orgasm, but his partner’s giving him an odd look. Almost vulnerable. “Do you mind if we just don’t use one?” Artemy’s eyes flutter, trying to parse what Daniil is asking him. “I don’t usually want to feel that with my dates, but we’ve been together a while now and it’s you. We can always get emergency contraception pretty easily, as doctors, so if it doesn’t bother you –“

“It doesn’t bother me.” His heart is beating so hard and so fast he can ear it echoing in his ears. “I don’t mind. Not at all.” His hands caress Daniil’s hips, leaning to look down at him. His cock brushes against Daniil’s stomach. “Are you sure?”

Daniil digs his teeth into his lip, and breathe out rough. “I didn’t plan this,” he says, cheeks going red. “But I may have fantasized about it a few dozen times.” His gaze moves down, his attention with it, finger running up the underside of Artemy’s cock. “I’d like to know how you feel without the protection. I want you to fill me up.”

Artemy kisses his cheek. “Okay,” he says. He leans back down to kiss Daniil, the man under him rolling his hips up to grind against his erection. He takes Daniil’s thigh in his right hand, angling it up, and holds his cock by the base as he pushes in. His folds are sinfully hot and soft around him. He’s forgotten the difference in feeling, used to the layer between them, and when Daniil has started to take him in it is a struggle not to jerk his hips forward, to move faster than he is right now. Daniil’s breathing is a noisy gasp under him, and he makes himself look down at his closed eyes, his parted lips. Daniil’s eyes open in time for him to hilt, his left hand on Daniil’s waist, and then his cheek, and then the bed.

He bends Daniil nearly in half to try and kiss him. “I feel you,” Daniil says against his lips, tone almost reverent. “I feel your pulse.” Artemy tries to move his hips slow, and at first he succeeds, feeling Daniil’s breath come out in puffs against him, body thrumming and warm beneath his. But then Daniil’s body clenches on him, and his hips stutter, thrusting roughly, and Daniil’s moan makes his mouth vibrate. Daniil runs his hands up the back of Artemy’s sweater and digs his nails into his back as Artemy takes it the rest of the way off, tossing it on Daniil’s floor, his hips rocking as he moves. Daniil pulls him back down, covering his lips, and rolls his hips against Artemy’s.

“I can feel yours too,” Artemy says, pushing his thigh to his stomach. Daniil wraps his other leg around Artemy’s waist, and Artemy feels him shiver as he works his hips. He leans forward to brush their lips together, and Daniil’s cling to his, part for him, one hand tangling in Artemy’s hair. Artemy follows his pulse as it flutters, chasing each tug of Daniil’s body with a thrust. Daniil makes such lovely soft sounds in the back of his throat that Artemy finds himself driving his hips harder. Daniil rolls his hips, and Artemy grabs them, changing his angle as he hovers. Daniil digs his teeth into his bottom lip, Artemy kissing him through it. “Let me hear you,” he pleads, and watches Daniil’s head fall back, a low moan between his lips. Artemy slides closer, kissing Daniil’s neck.

His partner gasps, and squeezes tight around him, whimpering out a little Yes as Artemy keeps moving. Artemy pulls his hand from Daniil’s thigh and supports himself on the bed, hand settled near Daniil’s head. Daniil’s thigh parts, and he wraps around every inch of Artemy he can reach. Artemy watches the momentary tense of his body before he cries out and says “There.”

Artemy tastes the sweat on Daniil’s neck as he fucks him faster, following the flow of his breath, angling for that one moment of clarity. He can feel Daniil’s right hand moving down to rub his cock, and then he coils, shouting. The heat of his sex as he comes is overwhelming, Artemy groaning, teeth sinking in as he moves to that tightness, letting go of skin to gasp loud as he comes. Daniil takes Artemy’s head in his hands, redirecting his mouth to kiss as he spasms, panting together when he’s spent.

He rolls off of Daniil, and Daniil follows him this time to kiss, sweaty and messy. They lie in bed together a few minutes, exchanging soft kisses, Daniil’s hand locked in his. Daniil rolls to his side and sits up on the edge of the bed, searching for the bare minimum of clothes to pull back on. Artemy follows him in redressing and out of the bedroom, a hand on Daniil’s back. They bicker a little over what movie to put on, and when Daniil settles against him he realizes he hasn’t felt this content in years. He runs a hand through the other man’s hair, and thinks to himself that he’s almost ready to say it. It feels too soon, but he wants to. It settles at the top of his tongue, ready to be blurted out –

“Tyoma,” Daniil calls. It’s the first time he’s used a diminutive with Artemy, who knows his face must be luminescent at the affection. It’s nice, when he turns, to see Daniil’s face warmed into the acceptance, no longer furrowing his brow at every chaste moment spent together. The only curiosity now is voiced by his next question. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” he says, breathing out. Daniil flushes, maybe with embarrassment, more likely with pride. Artemy drops his hand to Daniil’s shoulder, and Daniil tucks himself in closer to Artemy’s side. “Why? What are you thinking about?”

“Family.” His hand, resting on Artemy’s stomach, curls. “I think we should get together as one. You with your kids, and me with mine.” The fingers twitch. “I’m not suggesting anything permanent! I just mean for dinner, and to…let them know. That we’re together.” There’s more to the sentiment, he knows, than what Daniil is putting forward. He can see the caution reflected in Daniil’s eyes, and he recognizes now it’s the look he’d had on his face during that first date, hidden behind something much more self-assured.

“I think you’re right,” he says. He thinks about the drawing on the fridge. “I think you’re already a part of it.” Daniil seems frozen for a minute, and Artemy wonders if he’s pushed his luck. “Just tell me if I move too fast, okay? I don’t want to scare you off.”

Daniil snorts, and whatever fleeting hesitation he’d had is gone. He shoves Artemy, softly. “Moving too fast? For a guy you hooked up with? I think you know I only have one speed.” He manages to make his sentence sound cut off before its natural end, looking up Artemy with some trepidation. “It’s me who should be saying that to you. I know I haven’t had many relationships of this type. I’m never sure if I’m performing in them correctly –“

“Don’t worry about performing with me. Just tell me what you think, how you feel.” Daniil sits there for a minute, contemplating his words. Then he shifts, throwing one leg over Artemy’s and cupping his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss.

“What I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?” His eyes are normally a sharpened edge, but he’s purposefully blunted them to look at Artemy now. The kind of trust he must have in Artemy to make himself so vulnerable so easy makes his heart race.

“I am. Though if you’d rather not say it, I understand.” He sets his hands on Daniil’s hips. “But I can feel it, all the same, because I feel it too.” He reaches his right hand out to caress Daniil’s cheek, to bring him lower and in to kiss. It’s different from any other time. The whole day has been, finally operating on an even table. Daniil rests his weight down, and Artemy picks it up.

They forget about the movie.