Chapter Text
Temptation of sin never outweighs the temptation of salvation, or shall it?
Fyodor allowed himself to put his guard down. Just this once, only this one, singular time. A hand rests gently on his waist, guiding him slowly… step by step. His right hand, gripped tightly in opposition to the one on his waist, is held close to his chest. The warmth of his dance partner seeped through the black leather gloves he wore. Such a shame he couldn’t completely bask in the warmth of another human being, his precious dance partner would have to perish merely to feel skin on skin contact. In death he would cease to be warm as well.
The old record player determined their next steps, Fyodor was unfamiliar with the song. He allowed himself to be led along. There was no world outside the abandoned manor in which they danced. No planning for the annihilation of abilities, no plans for terrorism, no endless screens filled with code. Simply the pair dancing slowly in an abandoned manor. The record playing through was old. Sound scratchy and muffled, Fyodor considered the age a part of the song’s beauty.
Moonlight shone through the large, glass windows. Floorboards creaked from time to time under their steps. It always brought the Russian back to reality. However, that reality always brought him back to who his dance partner was. It made his heart clench, he did not know nor understand why. Whatever the feeling was, he merely connected it to something sinful- a temptation. Something to be ignored. Yet…
“Oh Doppo… Doppo, Doppo, Doppo…” He sighed closing his eyes, allowing his head to fall back slightly, “do you have any idea…?” mumbled so silently, said man could hardly hear.
“Any idea of what, angel?” The nickname rolled off his tongue incidentally, though to Kunikida, it felt perfect to address a man as Fyodor. He held the latter’s waist a little tighter and closer to him. The end of the song was nearing, Kunikida gracefully led Fyodor through the steps- he was such a wonderful dancer. He sincerely prayed this would not be their one and only waltz.
A breathy chuckle, “Angel…? I do not think that title suits a man like me.” Fyodor had no idea what to think of the endearing nickname. It was a complete lie, yet it made his cheeks burn and his stomach feel a bit odd- a fuzzy feeling.
The song was reaching its end, Kunikida once again took charge and led Fyodor in the final steps. The final step, the blonde gently spun the ravenette before leaning him back. The hand that formerly held his waist now braced his back. The other hand, which had been gripping his own so tightly, now sat on his hip. Fyodor’s own hand was now being held up loosely by his chest. They both were breathing softly. The record stopped, leaving them in complete silence.
Kunikida stared into Fyodor’s deep magenta eyes. They were beautiful… so, so beautiful. In his opinion, the latter’s beauty was highly under-appreciated. Of course he had apparent eyebags and was underweight, but he was still beautiful. Skin as pale as porcelain, hair as dark as the night sky- it gave him a look of utter divinity. And of course his eyes, he will never get over staring at them, they are just so beautiful. To him, Fyodor was perfect. Yet, Fyodor fit into none of his ideals for a perfect significant other. Perhaps it was because this moment was only meant to be a one time affair.
However, if this was going to be his only time with his angel, he may as well make it worthwhile. Irrationally, he swiftly took off the black glove covering Fyodor’s delicate hand. Kunikida wondered if the gasp he heard from the Russian’s lips as he softly grabbed his frigid hand and placed his lips upon his palm was just his imagination. Kunikida supposed this would be a wonderful way to go out, despite how stupid it was.
One second passed.
Then two,
Then three,
And four,
Five…
Nothing happened. He was still alive, he looked up to see Fyodor’s face- his lips still gently on his palm- there was an expression of shock written all over his face. Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. He had expected Kunikida to die as well. The two stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, in reality it was around thirty seconds. The blonde smiled, letting out a breathy laugh. Fyodor merely remained still.
“You…” Kunikida started, pulling himself and the Russian back to a standing position, “Your ability, I can touch you.” His hand still held Fyodor’s, he brought the hand back up to his lips and kissed each one of his fingers. He heard his angel suck in a breath. It was obvious no one had ever given him the attention he so rightfully deserved.
“ No… no it doesn't.” Fyodor responded, he seemed to be in awe. Each kiss that was placed upon his hand, he expected to be the last. For some delayed reaction to finally happen. Still, nothing happened, He felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. Why was the detective treating him so gently? Would he not take this situation to his advantage? Take him down and arrest him for his crimes? Fyodor was slightly confused and horribly embarrassed as well.
“You’ve never been treated this way have you?” Kunikida mumbled, placing another kiss on his knuckles, “treated the way you deserve.”
“The way I deserve?” The Russian prided himself in his intellect, his ability to see through everything- to understand all that was put before him. Never before had he ever been truly stumped as to what someone meant. Never before until this very moment.
The blonde finally moved his head up from his hand, he stared straight into Fyodor’s eyes. It did not help his flustered case at all, “Do you not understand? You're smart, you should realize your worth, Fyodor. You are a horrible man, with disgusting morals. You go to the lowest of lows for what you want.” He moved closer to Fyodor’s face, they were mere centimeters apart, “Yet it’s for such a pure cause. Such disgusting actions for something so pure. You do not understand kindness nor love because you have never experienced it. Never before could anyone touch you, for fear of their lives. Never before would you experience another’s touch, nor kindness.”
“You’re saying that I…” his words faded out. They both knew what he meant. Fyodor knew his companion was wrong, however. His goal was not that simple. He had to give him some credit, it was a good assumption. Ultimately, he wished to-
The Russian was abruptly interrupted from his thoughts when he felt a hand on his chin and waist, pulling him closer, their bodies now flush with one another. Kunikida stared into Fyodor’s eye once more before connecting their lips into a kiss, as lovers would. It was slow and gentle- carefree from anything else in the world. It did not matter that they were on opposing sides at that moment. It was simply Fyodor and Doppo. Doppo and Fyodor. The ravenette wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders.
Due to a need of oxygen, they separated. Kunikida brought up a hand, brushing Fyodor’s bangs out of his face. They still held each other, in a daze. Neither had expected this outcome. Not when the detective tracked the Russian to this building. Not when they jest made eye contact while a record played softly in the background. Not when they began to slowly dance in each other’s arms. Not even when they realized Fyodor’s ability did not work on him.
“Oh lord, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” The blonde sighed breathless, “You’re pretty enough to be amongst the angels in heaven.”
“Again with the angel comparison, hm?” Fyodor smirked teasingly.
“I’m dead serious.” Kunikida responded, “You’re drop dead gorgeous.”
“And yet you still stand, no?”
Almost immediately they were on each other once again.