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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

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Prazdnik (part 1)

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Part 2

Pairing: Nikto x reader Fluff. This guy can't let himself just start a happy life, but its all fluff. AN: I swear, I don't have a single idea, how this happened, but I woke up with the strongest itch to comfort Nikto today. Summary: you are trying to express your gratitude and comfort your colleague in a not-so-conventional way.

You figured out, that Nikto is not a big fan of communicating with others, when he was off duty. You asked him to teach you how to pick locks without extra noise. And so he did - he spent much time and effort between missions to make sure, you know your ways around different types of locks. But every time, you tried to thank him after yet another lesson - he stood up and left the room. As awkward as it looked from the outside, it never seemed to bother him.

He never joined your little group celebrations. Of course, others too sometimes passed them due to various reasons, but Nikto never came. At first, you thought, he just had a full life outside the work and had no time for his colleagues, but soon you noticed, he rarely left the base, even when he had such an opportunity.

On a rare occasion, he was ok with you siting beside him in the armory, as he took care of his gear. Although every time, you approached him, Nikto 'greeted' you with 'is it going to be a question about lock picking or some more of your nonsense?'. 'Nonsense' was you asking him little, not too intimate questions about his life and culture. You just wanted to find out, what makes this man smile, what, if anything at all, brings him peace and comforts him.

Nikto never overshared, but little by little he opened up. He seemed especially at ease, when he told you something about his childhood: little children games, they played with other kids from the neighborhood, his favorite radio-shows from back then, celebrations, they used to have. You couldn't be a hundred percent sure because of his mask - but you thought, his eyes seemed softer at these moments.

There was only one way to find out for sure, if those memories really made him as happy, as you thought. And it also provided you with a way to thank him for his help. So you sank into studying endless forums and videos, to make a surprise. After weeks of preparing (after all, you didn't have that much spare time between the missions, trainings and paper work) you gave a final look to your private room and sighed. It would either humiliate you till the end of times, or bring a smile on his face. So... worth a risk.

"I taught you for almost half a year... only for you to not be able to pick the simplest lock? And where could you possibly lose a key to your own room?" Nikto grumbles, following you down an empty corridor. He was clearly not happy with you interrupting his first calm evening after the mission, and it made you regret your idea in advance.

He opens your door with such ease, as if he was holding not a picklock, but your key. You await any reaction on what he sees inside your room, but Nikto turns away and starts walking back, not even peeking inside.

"Wait! I have to show you something! Its important!" You grab him by the sleeve in desperation and drag back.

Nikto freezes on your threshold, finally seeing, what is exactly going on in your room. He looks back at you in confusion.

"What's this all about? Is it some joke?" He carefully rounds up a large sheet of craft paper laid out on the floor. A sheet, that you painted for almost a week, occasionally looking at photographs of festive tables from Russia.

"Its a surprise. I know, celebrations are not your thing really and you dont celebrate Christmas. But I thought that maybe, just maybe, youll be willing to celebrate something from your childhood with me. This is... skatert`*" You feel awkward. It's a good thing, your room is lit up only with a few candles (one covered with a peeling grater, because he told him, thats how they used to make a fancy lamp out of practically nothing). This way he won't see blush on your face.

He descends on the floor, and moves away a few plates and tangerines, you placed on the paper to be able to properly read, what you've written in the middle of your improvised festive table. You are ready to die of shame then and there, but he reaches out an open palm to you.

"Give me a pen. There is a mistake. 'S novym godom*' goes with 'M' at the end." You can't believe your ears, but pull out a pen from the pocket.

Nikto takes it, but doesn't proceed to correct your writing - he still looks you in the eyes.

"Sadis`, nauchu tebya, kak pravil`no*." You don't understand a single word, put he pats the empty space beside him and you sit down.

"So, what's about all this with a New Year in October?" You almost see amused wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, as if Nikto is smiling. But his question still comes out in a cautious tone.

"Well... Consider this a rehearsal. I wanted to give you your favorite holiday, but I probably made the wrong salad, and the tablecloth is not the same as in your childhood, and instead of champagne we will have tea and instead of a TV... a box with a hole and painted buttons. So you can tell me what to fix, and I'll work on the 'Novyy God 2.0' till the end of December."

Nikto turns to you fully and tilts his head to the side. "You're saying, this is supposed to resemble an Olivier salad?"

"I know, it looks all wrong, but hear me out!" You move a plate with your interpretation of Russian festive food to him. "It tastes much better than it looks! Try!"

He hesitates for a minute, then another. Then he moves the candles further away, so his face remains in the darkness and unfastens the straps holding his mask in place. On one hand you don't mean to make him uncomfortable with your stare, but on the other you genuinely care for his initial reaction to what you've cooked, so you glance at him briefly. You can still see the outlines of scarred skin, but everything you care for is a tiny shadow of a smile, you notice on his lips.

"Kak ty... ok, this tastes much better than it looks." For the first time you hear some unmasked joy in his voice.

For some time, the room falls into a comfortable silence. The candlelight flickers, casting vague shadows on both of you. You rejoice simply at the opportunity to sit quietly next to him and enjoy the moment, while munching on what you've prepared - even if the table is not real, and there are still two and a half months before the holiday. Nikto traces the flowers, you painted on paper with his fingers.

"You even made a TV... What for?" His voice, much softer and quieter than usual, sounds somewhere above your ear. While eating, you moved a bit closer to him and Nikto didn't seem to protest.

"Oh, that's the best part! I remember you telling me, that you used to listen to New Year greetings from the president on radio and television. So today I will work as a president... I don’t know, president of our base."

"My fucking god, you serious?" Nikto almost choked on yet another spoon of salad.

You didn't give yourself time to develop any shame or cringe and proceeded to the big box with a square cut out hole. If you are disgracing yourself for this man to have some good memories of today - you are going all the way down.

"Ok, I have a little speech here. Please bear with the shittiest version of Russian, you've ever heard..."

When you begin to hesitatingly and slowly read the congratulations, Nikto presses his fist to his face and quietly shakes in silent laughter. As you end and proceed to back to your place - he can't hold back his chuckles. It’s so unusual to see this man relaxed, maybe even happy.

"Idi syuda, prezident ty moy*." He motions for you to come over and allows you to sit down and lean against his shoulder, adjusting you so, that his face stays out of your sight. You press yourself against his side, enjoying the unexpected but warm gesture. Who knows, if there ever will be one more time, when you can feel his soft human nature?

But soon his body tenses, his hand, almost covering your shoulders, retreats.

"We don't do this stuff in Russia." Nikto gestures up, and you don't get it right away, what does he mean. But then you see, what exactly he noticed, and curse under your breath. You absolutely forgot a branch of dry eucalyptus that you hung from the ceiling of your room so that it always smells nice.

"No-no-no, Nikto! It's not, what you think, I never meant to-"

"Good thing, of course, you didn't." He jerks away and reaches for his mask. And at this moment a strange, almost crazy idea appears in your head.

"Nikto? How do you do it in Russia?" He freezes with a mask in his hands, his eyes piercing you, as if he tries to read you mind.

"...how we do what?"

"How you... steal a kiss to find out if you have chances? We have this silly thing with a mistletoe. And how do you guys do that?"

He seems to stop breathing. You see his intense gray-blue eyes, studying you, as if this was the first time, he ever saw you. What you make out are his features right now as Nikto hides his face beneath the shadow of his mask.

"We ask. Sometimes, just go for it. There is one tradition, that can be potentially used for this purpose, but..."

"Show me!" Words leave your mouth sooner than you manage to fully understand, what you are asking for.

He hesitates, looking at you, then at the candles. Then he tears off a piece of paper laid out on the floor and divides it in half. Nikto hands one half to you.

“Here you need to write your deepest wish. Don't show it to anyone.” Your wish fits into one short word. He does the same with his piece of paper and surprisingly his wish also looks short.

“Now you need to burn the wish over your glass, so that the ashes fall into the champagne.”

You do as he tells, watching ashes falling into a cup of tea, while he lights up his piece with the nearest candle.

"Now you drink. And then you must kiss somebody, otherwise, the wish never comes true." His voice is barely audible, as if Nikto talks to himself. You drink your tea, not paying attention to the smoky burnt paper taste. When you move closer to him - he doesn't pull you away. But as your face leans closer to his, he sighs apologetically, covers your forehead with his hand and presses his lips against it.

It's not even a kiss, but the strangest caress, you've ever felt. Niktos breath smells of ash and a tangerine, he was eating previously. A celebration, with a drop of sorrow. A happiest moment, that is never allowed. A feast in the middle of a battleground. That's him - that is Nikto.

"Prazdnik moy...*" He whispers and stays like this for a few moments. But then he stands up and disappears behind the door of your room with a quite "I'm sorry."

At the bottom of his mug there is still a piece of unburned paper. Two barely readable letters: "o" and "u" are still there. And if you ever notice them - you will understand, that you two share a wish.

*skatert` (here and next Russian) - a table cloth

*S novym godom - Happy New Year

*Sadis`, nauchu tebya, kak pravil`no - come sit here, I’ll teach you how to do it right

*Idi syuda, prezident ty moy - come here, my president

*Prazdnik moy - my holiday (used as a pet name here. rare one, but possible)

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