Confrontation [February 23, 1964, 1:47pm]

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian stood in the alley between buildings, in sniper-mode, still and silent, waiting.

The patrol finally came in the south gate. Quieter than usual, Kassian thought. More subdued. Though he allowed that his own mood could have caused him to read into it.

Three Ocelots with Kalashnikovs in hand approached his position, angling to cross the Grad and head back to the Ocelot barracks. Though they were all balaclavaed, he knew Isaev anywhere, both from his muscular build and the eerily graceful way he moved. Semeyonev was tall, but not as tall as Isaev. Not as broad-shouldered. And while Semeyonev even had the same stealth training from the same instructor, Kassian could tell the difference between the two, even with a casual glance.

He had spent a lot of time watching Isaev, soaking in the fine details.

Kassian liked to think he knew him.

Isaev walked at the back of the formation. Kassian didn't know who the other two were. Not that it mattered.

Kassian didn't move, and he could tell they didn't see him, shadowed as he was. He waited until they passed.

Scooping up a small chunk of gravel, he weighed it against his palm, then stepped out from his hiding place and hurled the rock at the back of Isaev's head.

His aim was true.

It hit with a solid thunk he could actually hear and Isaev spun around.

Kassian let Isaev see him for a moment, then faded back into the alley.

It was more secure than CODEC, and more subtle than shooting the beret off his head.

Comments

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Isaev glanced after Golegyin and Markov, fleetingly, then broke ground, charging between the tanks.

He was frowning beneath the black mask.

That had been no birdseed love toss, but a nice sturdy wedge of basalt, peppering the base of his head like a vengeful horizontal hailstone.

Some comrades played horse, inflicting a little pain with their fraternal affection- a punch, a bruise, a pinch, a tackle, but Kassian was not that type of chelovik, and Andrei knew this, better than he knew himself.

If Kasya was meting out abuse, he was either cross, or someone was getting off.

The odds that Irinarhov had decided to take aim at him for a rough, good natured jest were relatively low.

The odds he had decided to take umbrage were higher.

"Ouch," hissed Andrei, in an undertone, placing his hand on a tank and leaning in so they were face to face. "What the fuck is eating you?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian ripped off his balaclava.

Underneath, his hair fell damp and matted across his brow, unruly tangles that skimmed his dark and furious gaze. The muscles in his jaw clenched taut.

Kassian reached out and caught Isaev's scarf, tangling his fingers through it, iron gripped and unyielding. Pulling him closer.

He could feel the heat of Isaev's breath, even through the wool of his balaclava.

"Borishnakov," he growled.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei snorted, eyes narrowing slowly.

"What about him?" he drawled, on the points of the words, letting them flip, light and leisurely from his tongue.

He didn't blench in Kassian's grip, despite the tension across the back of his neck.

"Careful," he intoned, his tone softly black and sueded.

His hand flexed instinctively at his side.

"Or you may have to make good on the threat of your rage."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian pressed his scarf-wrapped fist against Isaev's chest and pushed him back against the tank, closing the distance between them.

"What makes you think I won't?" he hissed, low and serious.

He pressed a knee against Isaev's leg, digging in, pinning him.

The mask blurred expression to the contour of sharp cheekbones and a broad jaw, and the ridge of insouciant lips. Only Isaev's eyes were uncovered and crisp, narrowed like chips of ice.

Kassian slowly eased his grip on the scarf, but did not let go.

"Take off your balaclava. I want you to tell me about what happened."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei's mouth twisted into a sullen smile beneath the facemask. It looked a little more gruesome than he intended, as did all expressions framed by the implied, stylized violence of a balaclava.

Isaev regarded Kasya for a few moments, then his smile broke off abruptly, and his lips went slack and set. He reached up, roughly yanking off beret and balaclava at once in a practiced gesture.

His hair fell down in a tousle of variegated strands, harassing his brow and the broad, vaulted bones of his cheeks.

Isaev's gloved hand found Irinarhov's where it clasped in his scarf, and slid over it.

"Who fucking told you?" he whispered, intimately. "It didn't concern you."

Isaev's fingers eased back and forth, slowly.

"I kept you out of it, Irinarhov."

Kassian's mica toned eyes were molten, seething like pits of tar, anger shedding from him like hairs from a hackled wolf. No quarter.

Isaev's lowered his tone.

"I spared your precious morals. You should be happy."

His hand seized down hard, crushing Kassian's, just enough to cause pain, then threw off his touch with a flung arm.

"So why are you breaking my balls, snaiper?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian exhaled through gritted teeth.

"Didn't concern me," he repeated.

His hand throbbed and he clenched it reflexively, deepening the ache.

"Why is that, Isaev? Am I not an Ocelot? What did you think I would do? Refuse to go along with it? Get pissed at you because you had to follow orders?"

He bit out the words as he spoke them, his voice a harsh, hushed growl, but at the same time, Kassian pressed forward, heedless of the strength and skill that pulsed in the flex of Isaev's hands, the kinetic potential to snap joints and splinter bones, or kill without a bruise.

"Do you remember what you told me my first day, one of the first conversations you and I ever had? You said that loyalty was inflicted, for as long as I prowled with your unit. You said I couldn't disdain it."

Kassian shook his head.

"Out of loyalty, I would have been there. I would have been there to have your back. No, I wouldn't have liked it. You're right that it bothers me. I think the whole thing is fucking unnecessary, just an excuse for sadism, but that's not the point."

He pressed closer.

"Point is, I should have been there, regardless."

Kassian looked hard at Isaev, his gaze seething.

"Tell me one thing. Did you like it? Did you get off on shaming him? Did you fucking enjoy yourself, Lieutenant?"

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei looked askance for a moment, then his eyes narrowed.

"Borishnakov isn't my type. So no, I wouldn't say it got me hard."

He glared.

"But it was necessary. And no one was under specific orders. We were given leave to school Borishnakov in the style we were accustomed to. And I volunteered to spearhead. No one held my dick for me."

Isaev shook his head, looking at Irinarhov with an icy gaze, slow anger ebbing and pulsing fresh and viscid between them.

"Do you think I doubt your loyalty? Of course you would have been there. And you'd have loathed every minute of it, and flagellated yourself forever in the aftermath. Do I need to bear the onus of that? No thank you, comrade. Don't do me any favors."

The sound of the PA system blared diffusely in the background, unintelligible.

"I'd rather take the brunt of villainy myself, and spare the self-righteous ennui from your ruthless but menstruating heart. I was born to callous misbehavior, Irinarhov. There was ice in my cradle and on my mother's breast."

Andrei set his jaw.

"Never apologize, never explain."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian drew in a breath, deep, and hard.

The air was chill enough to make his lungs sting momentarily, but he stilled his breath like holding in a lungful of cigarette smoke, savoring what hurt him.

He eased back slightly, though once more, he reached out and caught his hand in Isaev's scarf. His fingers tightened, and closed around the thick wool.

This time he did not use his leverage to yank down Isaev's head but merely held him fast, letting his palm rest against Isaev's chest.

Kassian's ire lingered like ground glass inside him, and he savored that too.

"I don't want an apology," he said.

His gaze dropped for a moment, and went to Isaev's mouth. He felt the base urge to lean forward and close his teeth around Isaev's lip until he tasted blood.

He ran his tongue over his own lips instead.

"Or an explanation."

Kassian flicked his eyes up again and met Isaev's.

"Borishnakov's dead," he said, flatly.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei stilled throughout at the words, reactionless, except to raise his eyes, studiously moody and grey.

"Really," he said.

So the prick had done himself in out of mortification. Isaev felt a vague flowering of disdain and contempt that he could not contain. It brimmed in his eyes like wine.

But he couldn't be surprised, not by anything that Borishnakov had done. It stood to reason he'd take the coward's way out. He'd never risen up righteous as a man since his promotion to the squad.

Why would it happen in death?

Isaev shrugged, cracking his knuckles in the force of habit.

"...He brought it on himself."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian's hand clenched on the scarf, convulsively.

He leaned forward, and dug the point of his knee into Isaev's leg.

"You fucking prick. They're looking at you for the killer. They're wondering if you did it. They're examining the body right now for evidence."

Kassian let his voice drop, his words low and rough.

"Liadov let me come find you and tell you beforehand, so when they call you forward and tell you he's dead, you don't say shit like that."

His body was rigid, pressed against Isaev like unyielding iron, unwilling to concede the space between them.

"He died with no marks on him. And according to Kolyin, you were the last person to see him alive."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"...You're saying they pegged it as murder?"

Andrei met Irinarhov's ferocious gaze, and was informed by his intensity as well as his words.

He paused, and a few moments passed in tense almost-silence.

Isaev could feel Kassian's scorching regard. The urgency of his concern vibrated at the same frequency as his passion, and it confused Andrei's senses periodically.

Pulsing on and off, intent and interest and...

"I don't know what to tell you," Isaev said, finally. "It does make sense. I would want me for the killer, no question."

He exhaled and leaned back against the tank, gathering his now-reeling thoughts.

"I don't know what to say"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"You don't have to say anything."

Kassian loosened his grip and began straightening the scarf around Isaev's neck, re-situating it to acceptable uniform standards. There was a raw red mark where the wool must have chafed Isaev's skin, but Kassian covered it with a carefully-placed layer of scarlet.

His gaze was still heated when he looked up from his task.

Kassian paused for long seconds, holding Isaev's eyes, then he leaned forward and crushed their mouths together.

His kiss was fierce and savage, but brief, and he broke it off to close his teeth around the fullness of Isaev's lip.

Softly, but with an ever-increasing pressure, he bit down until warm copper hit his tongue.

Kassian pulled back then.

"Not to me, Andrei," he said, softly.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Nice going," snorted Andrei, softly.

He touched his finger to his mouth and came away with crimson.

"Now they'll think I have defensive wounds."

Isaev looked up.

"What do you mean, Kassian? Don't you at least want to hear me say that I didn't do it?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"It's too fresh for that."

Kassian shook his head.

"It's not like it just happened. There's been plenty of time in between."

He let out his breath in a long sigh and pushed his hand through his hair, sweeping the still-damp locks off his forehead.

Kassian eyed Isaev a moment, then looked down. He was quiet.

"I won't ask you that," he said, finally. "The answer makes no difference."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei looked at him for a long time.

"No difference," he said, vaguely. "You're twisted, somehow. It doesn't add up, what you say and what you do."

He shook his head.

"Are you saying that you would embrace a killer as your own?"

As he said it, he was aware that it sounded almost ridiculous. They had killed many men, he and Kasya both. They were, by definition, mass murderers, even if the state called it heroism.

"And your morals?" demanded Isaev. "Because if sadism to you is shaming a man, what would cold-bloodedly killing him be?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian laughed once, a low harsh sound.

He looked up at Isaev and held his gaze, and his eyes were fierce, backlit and brimming with fervency.

"My morals."

Kassian pushed closer and pressed close. He was hard, and he let his body and gear dig into Isaev's hips and thighs unmercifully. Unapologetically.

"I've killed a man in cold blood because I thought he deserved it. And I told myself he brought it on himself. If it's true, then I'm the same as you. If it's not, I'm worse."

He cocked his head.

"Do you see why it doesn't matter?"

Kassian leaned in again, and bent his head, letting his lips graze the line of Isaev's jaw, smooth without a trace of stubble.

He whispered in Isaev's ear.

"I'd do much more than embrace you, Dasha. You know that."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Isaev tilted his head back for a moment, closing his eyes, then swung it forward, studying the piercing gaze of the sniper.

"Do you think I did it?" he asked, neutrally.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian's jaw set hard, the lines in his face deepening. He looked at Isaev with narrowed eyes, and he didn't say anything immediately, letting time stretch and pass between them.

He searched Isaev's gaze.

Finally, he glanced away, downward and off to the right.

He took in a deep breath and let it out, the set of his shoulders straightening.

"No," he said, quietly.

His mouth twisted, faintly, and he looked up again.

"You're an Isaev," Kassian said, as if that explained everything.

Maybe it did, but he continued anyway.

"You wouldn't bother unless it was personal. And Borishnakov wasn't worth that kind of effort."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei smiled faintly.

"You do know me, don't you."

He paused, slinging an arm around Irinarhov's shoulders and brining their heads together, brow to brow.

"You know that they won't find any evidence," he intoned.

His fingers patted the sniper's rough cheek, as his lips curved upward.

"And if they did...I'm not good for it. I'd like to see them try to pin this on me."

He laughed, an inky sound, low and indulgent.

"Believe me, they'd be playing violin in a hurricane."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian closed his eyes and drew in Isaev's scent, let his voice and his presence suffuse him.

They were just words, but Kassian felt himself relax in spite of everything.

He let his arms settle around Isaev's waist and brushed his thumbs against the small of Isaev's back.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and leaned back, looking at Isaev again.

Smug, he thought, studying Isaev's wry expression.

Kassian knew it wouldn't be as easy as Isaev seemed to think.

As a child of privilege, Isaev couldn't imagine it going any other way than his, though this was no time to try to dissuade him.

Kassian leaned forward and brushed his lips across Isaev's.

"All right," he whispered.

Maybe in times like these, words were enough, at least for the moment.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

The fleeting graze of the sniper's mouth warmed him like a flash of mellow fire.

Isaev reluctantly released Kassian and let him step away, back into the bounds of propriety.

The masculine and brandy-rich smell of him lingered in Andrei's territory.

He opened his mouth to say something, possibly an expression of gratitude, or devotion.

The familiar sound of Major Ocelot's strident shouts rose in the background and pre-empted him, as he jerked his head up.

"Sounds like we're being ordered to assemble," he remarked, keeping his tone deliberately unloaded.

He turned back to his comrade, meeting his eyes.

"After you," he said, with a slight upward nod.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Sounds like," Kassian muttered.

He caught and held Isaev's eyes for a long moment, saying nothing, but not needing to, either.

Before he moved out, Kassian tugged his balaclava over his head, then fixed his beret in place.

He would rather be part of the crowd, just another anonymous Ocelot, even though the rifle over his shoulder marked him as anything but.

Kassian readjusted his uniform, smoothing it down and straightening his lapels.

Presentable again, he nodded.

He edged out into the yard and followed the sound of the Major's voice. Isaev was right behind him.