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Chapter Text

"We can help you to reach your ideals."

Someone's hand is tracing Kunikida's face. He's been blindfolded, but from the voice he guesses it's Dostoevsky. "You don't have any interest in my ideals," he rasps. His throat is dry- he's been deprived of water for as long as he's been here. 

"We do, we do, I promise." Breath ghosts across his cheek. "Ah... I bet you're thirsty, right? We've been so neglectful, my apologies. Let me get you some water." There's footsteps moving away, then they return. Cool glass presses to his lips. "Drink," Dostoevsky whispers, tilting the cup towards his face. Water spills over his chin before he can make the decision to open his mouth, but he catches at least half of it all the same. "Ah, look now, you've made a mess." Dostoevsky's hands come down to his neck, untying the ribbon and starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Get away," Kunikida hisses. There's a pause, and then cold fingertips touch the bared skin of his throat. He screams as pain flares out from the contact.

"I don't want to have to keep hurting you," Dostoevsky says. "This could be so painless if you'd just cooperate." 

"Master!" There's a new voice, one that sounds almost musical. Dostoevsky's hand falls away, giving Kunikida some reprieve. "Pushkin is back, if you'd like to speak to him-"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Kunikida tries to take advantage of the distraction to work at the ropes tying his hands behind his back. "Ah-ah, none of that now." Dostoevsky's hand brushes over the side of his neck, a clear threat. It falls away a moment after Kunikida stops struggling with the knot. "Vanya, would you come take care of our guest while I go tend to my other businesses?"

"Of course, yes," 'Vanya' agrees. 

"You may take him to the room where he'll be staying, but ensure you take the proper measures to keep him from escaping." Footsteps echo across the floor, and there's the sound of a door closing as new, lighter footsteps come towards Kunikida. The blindfold is lifted from his eyes, and he's greeted with a smiling man with long, platinum blond hair.

"My name is Ivan," the man starts. He leans down and around to check the bindings on Kunikida's wrists, and Kunikida notes that the top of his head is wrapped in bandages. A surgery? "I'll take care of you while the Master is gone- he's very busy, you know, I'm not sure when he'll be back." Ivan turns to a small table near the chair Kunikida is bound to. He can just barely see tools being shuffled around on it, and he watches as Ivan picks up a syringe filled with some sort of clear liquid. He tries to scoot the chair back as Ivan comes back towards him. "It's alright, this isn't going to hurt," Ivan soothes. "It's just a little sedative."

"I don't want you anywhere near me!"

"Aw, that hurts. Listen, listen-" Ivan shifts the syringe to one hand and places the other on Kunikida's thigh. "Either I sedate you to keep you relaxed and easy to work with, or-" Ivan's hand tenses- "I break your legs to keep you from running away."

Kunikida goes still, and Ivan smiles at him. "Good boy," he praises, and Kunikida shudders. Ivan goes behind him, and Kunikida can feel his hands roll up his sleeves, feeling for a vein to inject. "You'll feel a sting now-" Kunikida hisses as he feels the needle press through his skin. It feels like it takes forever for Ivan to finish the injection, and by the time he's done he already feels woozy as Ivan pulls the syringe away. "Don't go to sleep now!" Ivan laughs. Kunikida feels something cold and hard cinch around his wrist just above the ropes. "I'll untie you now, so please don't try to hit me." Kunikida can barely get his arms to move enough to pull them around into his lap as the ropes fall away, much less to try to hit him.

"What did you... give me..."

"It's only a sedative. If you behave, we won't have to give you anymore." Ivan hooks Kunikida's arm over his shoulders and drags him to his feet. "I'll take you to where you'll be staying now, just try to follow along."

Luckily, Kunikida doesn't even have to try to drag his feet to make the trip as annoying as possible. Unluckily, halfway there, Ivan seems to get fed up with their pace, and stops in the middle of the hallway to pick Kunikida up bridal style and carry him the rest of the way. Kunikida is actually shocked by how easily he does it- Ivan looks incredibly thin and slight, and he'd expect him to struggle with lifting anything heavier than a folding chair.

"We're here!" Ivan announces, and Kunikida lifts his head from his shoulder- when had he put his head down?- and looks up as Ivan bumps the door open with his hip. It's a shockingly nice bedroom, and it looks like someone's already living in it. It's empty for the moment though, and Ivan crosses the room to set him on the bed. "Just wait here, someone will come to see you eventually." When he leaves the room, Kunikida can hear the lock click behind him, dashing any real hopes of sneaking out. Even if it were unlocked, the sedative is making him too sleepy to do anything. He lets his head drop onto one of the pillows, and he quickly drifts off to sleep.

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"Moy pitomets." Kunikida groans and turns away from the hand running through his hair. "Do wake up, please." He burrows his face further into the silky sheets he's laying on. The mattress shifts and hair falls onto his cheeks. "Dorogoy?"

"What...?" He still feels tired, and when his eyes flutter open he can barely make out someone hovering just above his face. The events from right before he fell asleep come flooding back to him, and he hurriedly pushes himself up and back, almost knocking heads with Dostoevsky. "What are you doing?" he demands.

"I'm just waking you up." Dostoevsky cocks his head at him. "You still seem rather tired, though." Kunikida looks away, pointedly ignoring him. "I assume you don't want any of the food I brought, then."

"Food?" Aside from being deprived of water, he's also been almost starved so far. Dostoevsky smiles at him when he looks back at him. Kunikida huffs at how smug he looks.

"Are you hungry?" Kunikida begrudgingly nods. Dostoevsky presents a plate piled with steaming potatoes and rice. "Would you like some?" He nods again. It's only as Dostoevsky starts to gather some food on a fork that Kunikida realizes it might be drugged. Dostoevsky seems to understand this though, because he takes a bite first before getting more for Kunikida. "See? It's safe. If we were going to drug you, we would have no problem giving it to you straight."

Kunikida reaches a hand for the fork, but Dostoevsky pulls it back. "Aren't you going to give me food?"

"Yes." Kunikida blanches as Dostoevsky holds the food up to his lips. "Now then, eat."

"You're going to feed me?"

"Why, of course." Dostoevsky smiles serenely at him. "Moy pitomets."

"What does that even mean?" Kunikida hisses. Dostoevsky takes advantage of him opening his mouth to stuff the food in his mouth. He grumbles a protest around it.

"Anyways, moy pitomets is Russian for 'my pet'." Kunikida blushes, slightly angrily and slightly in embarrassment. "And dorogoy means 'darling'."

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Well, you're quite cute. Ah, another nickname- milashka. Cutie." Kunikida hits him in the arm. 

"Shut up." It's already patronizing enough for Dostoevsky to be feeding him, but now he's insisting on pet-names? 

"Oh, do you want more food then?" As if on cue, Kunikida's stomach growls. "Just apologize, dorogoy, and I'll give you more." Kunikida mumbles harshly under his breath. "What was that?"

"Sorry." 

"That's good, that's good... ah, can you say khozyain?" It takes Kunikida a few tries, stumbling over the accents, but he eventually gets it close enough for Dostoevsky to clap his hands in approval. "Very good, moy pitomets."

"What did you have me say?" Dostoevsky shakes his head and simply places the plate in front of him, standing up.

"That's not important right now- I have more things to attend to, but I'll be back later. In the meantime, someone may come to check on you, perhaps Vanya or Kolya. You can eat the rest of the food, if you'd like." Kunikida takes up the fork and continues to eat as Dostoevsky goes to leave. "Also, I'd appreciate if you address me as khozyain from now on- it sounds quite cute with your accent." 

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It's around thirty minutes late, shortly after Kunikida finishes eating, that the door opens again. It's a man he only vaguely recognizes at first, and when he remembers him he's sure he goes white as a sheet.

"Haha, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He's sure he does, because he's dead certain that he watched Nikolai Gogol get cut in half. 

"You're supposed to be dead," he hisses. Gogol just laughs at him.

"Ah, my most wonderful illusion. I'm glad I was so convincing!" Kunikida raises a hand in front of his face as Gogol comes closer. "You may call me Nikolai, and there's no need to be worried, not when Dos-kun values you so much. No one would dare to hurt the master's prized pet." Kunikida bristles slightly at being called a pet.

Gogol- Nikolai takes the plate from the bed and slips it into his jacket. "What does Dostoevsky want with me?" He doesn't really expect an answer, but Nikolai gives him one all the same.

"Your loyalty to our organization, of course. Ah, I'm happy to answer any questions- Dos-kun is so very evasive, and bringing him up to dear Vanya is like asking to get your ear talked off- and, well, Alexander can be rather mocking sometimes, so I'll do it instead! That is, I'll answer what I'm allowed to."

Kunikida thinks for a moment, before raising his left arm to display the metal bracelet that Ivan put on him. "What's this for? A tracker?"

"That's an ability nullifier- they used to be so bulky, but now they're nice and sleek!"

That's not good news. Even if he gets his hands on writing implements now, he can't use his ability, and the cuff looks seamless, with no way to pick it open. "Where am I?" he asks next. Maybe, if he can find someway to send out a message, he can tell someone where he is.

"You're at one of our hideouts, but I'm not going to give you an exact location, of course. Sorry to dash your hopes~"

Damn. Oh well, he hadn't expected much of an answer. "Um.... Oh. One last thing. What does khozyain mean?"

"Oh, that's easy! It's a Russian word for 'master'." Kunikida stops dead. That bastard- "You need to work on your pronunciation a little, moya lyubov, I almost didn't understand what you said."

"You all need to stop speaking Russian at me, I can't understand."

"You'll learn after a while," Nikolai says, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. "And, if you'd like to know, moya lyubov means 'my love'." Kunikida groans and rolls back onto the bed, tuning out Nikolai's laughter. "Are you embarrassed?" he coos.

"Go away." Nikolai just laughs again. 

"Kolya, are you bothering our guest?" Nikolai hurries to stand, whirling to face the doorway.

"Dos-kun! I haven't seen you all day!"

"It's nice to see you as well. How is our milashka doing?"

"He's wonderful, I was just answering some of his questions... and, well, teasing him a little, I suppose."

"As you always do, Kolya. Would you happen to have anymore sedative in your coat?" Nikolai sticks a hand into his jacket and feels around for a moment before withdrawing a capped and labeled syringe. "Thank you. You can go now, I'd like some time with him alone." Nikolai obliges, leaving with one last 'goodbye!' to Kunikida.

"You're back," Kunikida observes dryly as Dostoevsky steps up to the bed, uncapping the syringe. 

"Yes. This is the last sedative I'll be giving you for now- as long as you behave, that is." Kunikida goes to pull away, but Dostoevsky sets a hand on his leg and pulls him back, jolting him with his ability just enough to force him still. He presses one of Kunikida's arms into the bed and injects him much the same as Ivan had earlier- again, Kunikida feels the effects sink in only moments after the needle is withdrawn. "Now, come with me, dorogoy."

Dostoevsky drags Kunikida over to a desk in the corner of the room, one lined with dozens of computers. "I have some work to do for now- did you know this is my room you've been staying in?" Kunikida groans weakly as he realizes that this entire time, he's been missing the chance to look around and gather information. "Come sit with me," Dostoevsky whispers. Kunikida is confused- there's only one chair- but then Dostoevsky sits down and pulls Kunikida into his lap, resting his head on his shoulder. "You can sleep some more now. Just relax." One of his hands runs through his hair, undoing the ribbon and letting it fall to the ground. 

"No... Don't want to... not here..." Kunikida pushes weakly at his chest.

"It's alright. Just go to sleep, I won't hurt you."

Kunikida gives one last weak protest, but feels his eyes slipping shut anyways. 

Chapter Text

Kunikida wakes up what feels like a few hours later. He can tell before he opens his eyes that he's been moved from the chair to the bed, but when he tries to sit up he's held down by an arm draped over his chest. He already knows what he'll see when he rolls to the side, but it's still a jolt to see Dostoyevsky mere inches from his face. He actually looks unthreatening when he's asleep like this. Kunikida goes to shift his arm off, but Dostoyevsky tightens his hold and pulls him closer.  His face gets pressed into Dostoyevsky's chest. 

"Wake up," he hisses, squirming around to try to break away. 

There's a sigh from just above him as the arm around him slides up to the back of his neck. "Good morning, dorogoy." Kunikida stiffens in revulsion as Dostoyevsky presses a kiss to his forehead.

"Don't do that." Dostoyevsky laughs softly against his bangs. 

"What, would you rather a kiss on the lips?" 

"No-" Kunikida is cut off by Dostoyevsky leaning down and twisting his hand into Kunikida's hair to angle his head back. Their foreheads press together, and Kunikida can feel Dostoyevsky's breath on his lips. There's a pause, and then Dostoyevsky tightens his grip in his hair and leers at him.

"You'll have to try a little harder than that to get me to kiss you." Kunikida actually feels relieved as he pulls away, sitting up and slightly pushing Kunikida to the side as he gets out of bed. "You can stay here as long as you want, moy pitomets."

Against his best efforts, Kunikida gives in to the traces of sedative left in his system and curls back into the sheets. He knows that the niceness and hospitality are just tricks to get him to trust them. It's a trick for a reason though, because it tends to work. 

"Kolya went out to the store earlier to get you clothes, since you need new ones. He'll be back to let you get dressed, so you'll at least need to get up then. The bathroom is available as well if you need it- feel free to use the shower if you'd like, as you'll get new clothes soon."

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Kunikida drags himself out of the unfairly comfortable bed fifteen or so minutes after Dostoyevsky leaves. Sleeping in his clothes and being unwillingly snuggled has left him feeling sticky and sweaty, so he actually follows through with the suggestion to use the shower. He's hesitant at first, but the bathroom actually looks relatively clean- of course, it's Dostoyevsky's room, after all. 

The hot water is nice and relaxing, even more so than the sedatives he's been given. He puts his head under the water and lets the water run over him, sighing in relief. The water rushing in his ears is soothing, but it also blocks out any noise coming from outside the shower, which is... nice, in its own way, but also makes Kunikida a little paranoid. He tries to brush off the feeling though.

His anxiety is proven to be justified, however, when there's a slight rustling sound of the shower curtain, and a moment later hands brush gently over his sides. 

"What the-!" 

"Shh, shh, moya lyubov, I'm back with clothes." 

Kunikida glances over his shoulder to see Nikolai, leaning past the curtain and being incredibly obvious about looking him up and down. He curls a little into himself under the scrutiny. "Why did you come into the shower?" he hisses.

"Well, I wanted to let you know I was back, for one, and I also got into a bit of a scuffle on the way back-" Now that he says that, Kunikida can see traces of blood on his shirt and in his hair- "So, I need to shower as well. Would you mind sharing?"

"I would definitely mind. I'm just about to get out anyways."

"Aw, what a shame. I was looking forward to it~" Nikolai teases. Kunikida brushes him off as he steps out of the shower and quickly grabs his towel off the counter, wrapping it around himself. "Oh well. Your new clothes are on the bed, so go get dressed." Kunikida almost jumps out of his skin as arms encircle him from behind, bringing his back to Nikolai's chest. Warm breath ghosts over his ear and neck. "I'm sure you'll look lovely, milashka."

Despite the odd words from Nikolai, the clothing looks relatively normal. It bears a striking resemblance to Ivan's clothing- plain black slacks and a white button down, accompanied by plain socks and underwear. It's so unassuming, in fact, that Kunikida is suspicious of what there is to accompany it. "Ah, as I suspected! You look perfect." Nikolai showered quickly, it seems. "I do have a couple more things to give you though." Of course, there's the catch.

Nikolai first presents him with a thin black ribbon, a replacement for the previous hair tie he'd had. It's slightly velvety and soft. "You should grow your hair out longer, like Vanya," Nikolai comments. "Oh! One last thing!" 

At first, Kunikida thinks it's just another hair ribbon. Then Nikolai comes around behind him and sets it around his neck, clipping it at the back, and Kunikida realizes it's a collar. When he whirls around to glare at Nikolai, he can hear metal tags jingle and feels them brush over his throat. "A collar!?" he snarls.

Nikolai looks unaffected by his outburst. "Yes. We do have to let everyone know who you belong to, after all!"

"I don't belong to anyone, much less people like you-"

"You'll have to deal with that attitude of yours," Nikolai huffs. "Some feistiness is good, but don't get too brash. I like how you have some boldness to you now- I'd hate to have you end up like dear Vanya."

"Ivan looks like he's doing just fine," Kunikida argues. "What's wrong with him?"

Nikolai shakes his head. "Ah... you don't know, that's right. He used to have a personality similar to yours- but Dos-kun got fed up with him, and so-" Nikolai raises a hand and makes a cutting gesture along his forehead. "Brain surgery. Completely changed how he acted, made him ever-so obedient and submissive." Nikolai reaches out and taps his fingers against Kunikida's forehead. "As sweet as he is, we don't need two people like him running around, so keep yourself in check, hm?"

Kunikida decides to keep his mouth shut. He values his free will, thank you very much. He can't imagine ending up like Ivan, unwillingly fawning over Dostoyevsky and flitting around the base. Nikolai ruffles Kunikida's hair, making him pull away. "You're such a wonderful guest, so nice! It's a shame you can't leave the room yet, but if you keep being good and cooperative, I'm sure you'll be let out soon." Nikolai leisurely waves a hand at him as he leaves, leaving Kunikida alone in Dostoyevsky's room. 

Alone in Dostoyevsky's room.

Finally, he has a chance to look around. He doubts Dostoyevsky would leave anything laying around for him to find, but it's worth a shot. He checks in the most common places first- dusty desk drawers, under the mattress, under the keyboards with the monitors, on the bottoms of chairs, but nothing turns up. He tries moving some furniture to check underneath it, but is unsuccessful. 

He's on his third check of the mattress, his head halfway under it, when he hears the door to the room open. He freezes, and a beat passes before the visitor speaks. "Oh, moy pitomets, what are you doing now?"

Kunikida squirms back out from under the mattress and turns to face Dostoyevsky, letting the mattress drop back to the bedframe. "I was- bored-" 

"You were bored, so you... decided to climb under the mattress?" Dostoyevsky is gazing around the room, and Kunikida is suddenly vividly aware of everything he didn't put back into place just perfectly. "I think you're lying."

It's no use to keep up the ruse anymore, and it might actually get him off easier if he confesses. "Fine. I was looking for something to... to help me get out. Can you blame me?"

"No, I suppose not," Dostoyevsky sighs. "It's only natural that in your situation you'd be trying to run away. Like a newly adopted puppy that doesn't realize it's already at home." Just as Kunikida thinks he can get off easily, Dostoyevsky continues. "I still need to speak with you though, so this doesn't happen again."

Kunikida stumbles back onto the bed as Dostoyevsky approaches him. "I'll apologize, if that's what you want- sorry."

"I appreciate the apology, but I still need to do something." Dostoyevsky sets a hand on his leg and Kunikida braces for the pain, but it never comes. The mattress sinks down as Dostoyevsky settles in between Kunikida's legs. "Don't be scared, dorogoy. Everything will be fine." Dostoyevsky brushes stray hairs out of Kunikida's face. "I think part of the problem is that you think you can get out. Do you underestimate us that much?"

"Even if I can't get out of here, the rest of the agency will inevitably find me. What, do you underestimate us that much?" he mocks. He's slightly taken aback when Dostoyevsky laughs at him.

"Oh, oh my- you think they're still looking for you?" Dostoyevsky leers at him. "Even if they could find us, they wouldn't be bothering. We have members to take care of that."

"Of course they're looking for me," Kunikida hisses. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"It's simply how we set it up. We've taken precautions- they won't be exactly looking for a dead man, will they?" Dostoyevsky smiles serenely as Kunikida's breath hitches. "That's right, you've been presumed dead. Now we have all the time in the world to ourselves, moy pitomets."

"No- you're lying-" Dostoyevsky catches his wrists as he struggles.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. Dorogoy, don't struggle- aw, don't cry, now." Kunikida hadn't even noticed he'd been crying until Dostoyevsky runs a thumb under one of his eyes, swiping away tears. "I'm here now, I'm the only thing you need to worry about." Dostoyevsky wraps his arms around Kunikida and pulls him closer until Kunikida finds himself crying into the man's shoulder. "Go ahead and let it out- you're mine now, I'll take care of you." He tips Kunikida's head to the side and trails his lips over his neck. "Vse moye."

"I hate you," Kunikida chokes out. "You fucking bastard." 

"You'll understand. I'll make sure you see my way of things in due time." 

"Why," he snarls. "Why me, of all people, you could have taken anyone else-"

"I could've, yes, but you're the best fit for what I want." Dostoyevsky runs his fingers through Kunikida's ponytail, combing out stray knots. "The fact that you're so beautiful is just a bonus." Kunikida tenses as his hand slides down, away from his hair to the small of his back. "Moy prekrasnyy mal'chik."

 "Don't." Kunikida reaches back and presses at his wrist. Dostoyevsky sighs but withdraws his hand. 

"Later then," he murmurs. "I won't force you." Thank god, at least he has some decency. "I can wait for you to come around." Dostoyevsky strokes the side of his face in a sickeningly sweet way. "You've been so good, aside from your little mishap earlier. If you can behave for just a few more days, I might let you leave the room- with an escort, of course."

Kunikida huffs as Dostoyevsky gives him one last pat on his shoulder. "That'd be nice." Dostoyevsky just hums and gets up from the bed. He starts to look about the room and set things back in place, while Kunikida curls up on the bed in resignation. He hates the thought of being 'good' for Dostoyevsky, but...

 It looks like that's his only option unless he wants to stay in this room for the rest of his life.  

Chapter Text

Kunikida does his best to continue his "good behavior". True to his word, about four or so days later, (as best as he can tell- there's no way for him to keep time) Dostoyevsky allows him the opportunity to leave. Of course, there's a catch.

"You may go out of the room and around the base, but you can not leave the base itself, understood? And, of course, there will be someone escorting you- Vanya is free today, I'll have him accompany you." Kunikida just nods along vaguely while Dostoyevsky talks. He hadn't been expecting to be allowed outside anyways, but Ivan seems like he could be convinced to at least let him step out the door...

"I'm back, Master! Is he ready yet?" Ivan comes through the door, looking just as excited as ever. "I can't wait to bring him out and around, I feel so bad about having to keep him locked up here!"

"I'm fine, let's go," Kunikida interrupts. "I just want to get out of this room already."

"I understand, moy pitomets. I was restrained in a jail cell for quite some time, so I can empathize."

Kunikida doesn't bother responding, just getting up from the bed and heading over to stand next to Ivan. "Ah, Nikiya, it's so good to see you again- and un-sedated! You look so nice when you aren't all drugged up."

Kunikida isn't sure how to respond to any of that, but luckily Dostoyevsky interjects. "I don't know, Vanya... I think he looked rather lovely like that. Much more obedient than he usually is, for sure, and having him asleep on me was very sweet."

"Just- I- Excuse me?" Ivan and Dostoyevsky both turn to look at him. "First off- Nikiya? What does that mean? And also, stop talking about me like I'm not even here."

"Nikiya is your new nickname!" Ivan chirps. "It sounds very cute, just like you!"

"And you'll have to get used to the talking, moy pitomets. One of these days when you're properly trained I'll bring you to a meeting and show you off." Kunikida is still reeling from that when Ivan takes him by the wrist and leads him outside. 

"I'm so happy you can finally come out here with the rest of us, Kolya has gotten to see you- and master, of course- but I haven't seen you in so long! We didn't part on the greatest terms last time either, so, ah, let me get a good look at you!" Ivan turns while he's walking, setting his hands on Kunikida's shoulders. "Ah... still so gorgeous. I've missed you so much."

Ivan spins back around, starting to gesture down various halls and telling him all about the base. He unfortunately isn't telling him anything useful in terms of escaping. Kunikida just follows behind him, looking around occasionally for an exit- maybe, just maybe, he could bolt outside if he's fast enough. "How big is this place?" He asks, trying to act like he's genuinely interested. 

"Oh, it's quite a large area- easy to get lost in really." Ivan seems about to say something else, but then Kunikida notices something down a hallway- light. Not electric lighting, but sunlight, spilling through a window. 

"Is that towards the outside?" 

"Yes, but you aren't allowed out there," Ivan murmurs, gently setting a hand on Kunikida's arm. "Remember what master said? I don't want you to get in trouble after how nice you've been!"

"But it looks like there's a window. Can't I just look outside?" Kunikida huffs. "Just let me look." Before Ivan can protest again, Kunikida breaks away from Ivan's hold and marches towards the window, which he discovers is next to a door. He sets his hands on the windowsill and leans up to peer outside- it looks like they're in a forest of some kind. "Can I step outside?"

"No, you'd get us both in trouble-"

"I don't want to even go that far. Just open the door so I can step out, I'm sure you could drag me back easily even if I tried to run away."

Ivan still looks hesitant, but he at least has a hand on the doorknob. "Master would be upset with us..."

"I've been stuck in that room for days, you said it yourself. What would I even do for a mere second outside?" Kunikida sets a hand over Ivan's on the doorknob. "Please?"

"Mm... alright, I suppose..." Ivan opens the door, keeping a hand on Kunikida's shoulder as he steps out of the door. Kunikida almost regrets it- he's so close, he's literally standing outside- but both the ground he's standing on and the wall are under Ivan's beck and call. He doubts he'd make it more than a few feet if he tried to run. "You should come back inside now-"

Of course, he's never been one to just give up on an opportunity.

He dips down and away from Ivan's hand, bolting away as fast as he possibly can. He hears Ivan shout, feels the ground shudder and roll, but he focuses on the tree-line and keeps going. He doesn't even know where he is but if he can lose them or at least out run them until he gets to a city or even a small town, he's got a good chance of getting out and staying out. 

He's just broken past the tree-line when he catches sight of a whirl of long hair out of the corner of his eyes- not Ivan's, it's the wrong color. He doesn't bother looking at it and keeps his gaze ahead, on dark brown tree trunks, bright green foliage, and then deep, deep black fabric, slung out right in front of him. He's running too fast to stop before he hits it and falls into it, a sparing glance to the side showing him Nikolai, leaning against a tree and looking incredibly pleased with himself.

He staggers right back into the hallway of the base as Ivan shuts the door and looks back to him, clasping his hands together. "You're very lucky Kolya caught you," he starts, as if Kunikida should be thankful he's there. "Master would have been very upset-"

"At what?" Dostoyevsky speaking startles both of them. "You look out of breath, moy sladkiy. What's happened?"

"He tried to run off," Ivan says. "He just wanted to look outside and then he bolted, I'm very sorry."

"Oh my... and who let him outside?"

"I did, Master." Ivan doesn't look afraid in the slightest despite his confession.

"Tsk tsk. It seems both of you need a punishment. Follow me." Ivan takes ahold of Kunikida's collar and leads him after Dostoyevsky without hesitation. He doesn't seem to struggle at all despite how much Kunikida squirms and leans against the movement.

Dostoyevsky leads them back to the room Kunikida had been in when he first woke up. The chair is still there, and so is the cart with the shiny medical utensils. Dostoyevsky shuts the door behind all of them and pays no mind to Kunikida at first as he walks over to the cart and pulls a scalpel off of it- he hands it over to Ivan with a nod. "You know what to do Vanya. You can handle this yourself, yes?"

"Yes of course, Master," Ivan replies, taking the scalpel with an unneeded amount of reverence. Kunikida fears for a moment Dostoyevsky means for Ivan to use it on him, but instead Ivan begins to draw the blade along his own palms, opening nice, neat, fresh cuts that ooze red onto the cuffs of his sleeves. When he switches hands the mutilated one is shaking, but Ivan's smile is still there, ever-present on his face. 

The entire scalpel is gleaming with blood, handle and all by the time Ivan is finished, and he sets it back on the cart before presenting his hands to Dostoyevsky. "Very good," Dostoyevsky praises, running his fingertips over the cuts. Such treatment of newly opened wounds should hurt, but Ivan only smiles wider at the touch, and he looks like he might faint from joy when Dostoyevsky raises his own hand, fingers stained as red as the scalpel, and allows Ivan to lick his own blood from Dostoyevsky's hand. "You're finished now. You may wait to watch our dear pet though."

Ivan nods and steps back, his still-bleeding hands crossed in front of him as he looks over to Kunikida. Kunikida steps back when Dostoyevsky approaches him, but he stops a few feet away to withdraw something from his jacket. Kunikida almost shakes when he sets it in his hands- it's his notebook. His ability is useless right now but the fact that he has his ideals back in his hands is enough to make him almost forget there's going to be a punishment.

Almost, because Dostoyevsky sets his hand on top of the notebook as well, tracing the kanji on the cover before speaking. "Burn it."

"I- What?" Kunikida looks up at him, and Dostoyevsky looks back to Ivan and motions for him to bring something from the cart. Ivan hurries to obey, and Kunikida feels sick to his stomach when he takes it- it's a lighter, metal casing smeared in Ivan's blood.

"Burn your notebook, dorogoy. You don't need it right now after all." Dostoyevsky sets a hand on Kunikida's shoulder and tightens it, a reminder that he can't refuse. "You know how to use a lighter right?"

"Yes..." Kunikida looks down at his notebook again and takes in a deep breath before flicking the lighter on and holding it up to the edge- he closes his eyes once the paper starts to burn. He reassures himself that it's okay- burning this doesn't mean burning his ideals. He still has them, even if they aren't neatly organized on paper.

He reopens his eyes once he feels flames lick at his palm, and the crumbling remains of the book fall to the ground. Dostoyevsky clicks his tongue as he watches the last bit of fire go out. "You made a mess. You'll have to clean it up."

Kunikida is about to ask how, considering he hasn't seen even a broom in this room, but Dostoyevsky tightens his grip on his shoulders and forces him to his knees. "Didn't you hear me? Clean it up."

It finally clicks what he wants and Kunikida almost snaps at him, but then he remembers Ivan, still present with the evidence of his own punishment, and decides he'd rather do this than slice open his own skin. He lowers his head, hating the insistent press of the hand on his neck, and licks at the pile of ashes. "All of it," Dostoyevsky says.

The ashes taste predictably horrible as he works through them, and just when he thinks he's numb to it he gets around to the bits of paper and cover that didn't burn up yet, and he has to chew those, which is even worse. There's still bits here and there that are smoldering, and when he gets to them Dostoyevsky doesn't let him move past them for later. The remnants of hot ash and fire burn his tongue and then his throat when he swallows them. Dostoyevsky coos to him in Russian all the while, stroking his hair. "Tam khoroshiy mal'chik."

His tongue stings almost as much as his pride by the time he's finished. It's even worse when he realizes he's pushing up into Dostoyevsky's hand. The ashes feel like gravel on his tongue, and when he finally raises his head Dostoyevsky pulls it towards him and pushes a finger- still coppery with Ivan's blood- into his mouth, pulling it open to see if he's actually swallowed it all. Kunikida resists the urge to spit in his face. 

Dostoyevsky hums his approval and pulls away. "I'll let you stay here for the night, so you can reflect on what you've done," he says, stepping out of the door and bringing Ivan with him. 

When the door closes and the lock clicks, Kunikida finally lets himself start to cry.

Chapter Text

Ivan comes to collect him eventually. His hands have been bandaged, it looks like, but Kunikida avoids touching them and refuses Ivan's offer to help him up. 

'Since when did he start caring if he accidentally hurts one of them?'

He tries to push that thought aside as Ivan leads him back to that god-forsaken room again. It's empty when they get there, of course. Kunikida's glad, because he doesn't want to see Dostoyevsky after all of that. 

However, when Ivan goes to leave, Kunikida finds himself grabbing his sleeve and dragging him back slightly. "Hm? Did you need something?" Kunikida isn't sure how to respond at first- he himself doesn't know why he pulled Ivan closer. "Oh, are you lonely?" Ivan coos, removing Kunikida's hand from his sleeve and patting him on the face. "It's alright. Shower and make yourself comfortable for when Dostoyevsky gets back. He can keep you company then."

Kunikida pitifully leans after Ivan when the man leaves. He's mildly ashamed that he's starting to want these peoples' company. He tries to reassure himself that it's normal, and he's not giving in, he's just... lonely. That's all, he just wants a bit of attention after that and they happen to be the only people around. 

He manages to coax himself into the shower after he realizes just how grimy he is from laying on the floor. He washes his mouth out while he's there, gagging and spitting remaining ashes down the drain. He has the unfortunate realization that his only clothes are now ripped and filthy, so he keeps himself wrapped in a towel for the time being. 

While he waits (certainly not eagerly, he insists,) for Dostoyevsky to get back, he tries to think back to what he'd seen while running outside. It's all a bit of a blur, but he'd seen mountains somewhere to the left... no road though. Perhaps it was around a different side of the base?

Regardless of that, he knows he can't just go barging out again. He doesn't know if it was mere coincidence Nikolai was there to catch him or if there was some alert system, but he's not going to risk falling right back into the hallway. 

"Oh, I see Ivan brought you back." Kunikida's head snaps up when he hears Dostoyevsky's voice- he'd been too in thought to notice him come in. "You've already showered? Very good, I almost expected to have to bathe you myself."

"As if I'd let you," Kunikida hisses. "I have enough decency to keep myself clean." 

"Not enough to put on clothes, it seems."

"There aren't any clothes! The only pair you gave me is filthy now."

"And? The dresser is right over there, moy pitomets." He gestures to the furniture on the other side of the room. "It's full of clothes, which you should know since you've already tried searching my room before."

"They're your clothes."

"And I never said you couldn't wear some, at least in occasions you don't have anything else. If you're intent to sit and look pitiful though, you can use my coat instead of the towel. It must be awfully cold and damp by now." He's right, it is, and Kunikida's almost started to shiver. Dostoyevsky tosses his coat at him, and he huffs before strategically sliding the towel off and pulling the coat on to preserve some decency. Dostoyevsky's slimmer than him, but he's taller, so there's some extra fabric to wrap up.

"They won't fit," he insists. "You should've thought ahead and had Nikolai buy more than one outfit."

"I'll let him know. What are you going to wear until then? I'm not complaining if you're going to stay like that, though I'll need my coat back eventually."

Kunikida tightens his grip on the jacket. "Well, if he runs that errand quickly, you won't have to wait long." He huffs as Dostoyevsky simply shrugs and moves over to his computers. "What do you even expect me to do now?"

"Rest. If you're good, I'll have Ivan bring you some books later." Dostoyevsky pauses, picks up his phone. "Kolya's out getting food, so if you're lucky he'll get the message to bring clothes too before he heads back."

Kunikida wants to think up a retort or sharp comment- but he's starting to get tired, and he also doesn't want Dostoyevsky deciding to take his jacket back for his 'attitude'. "... Thanks," he mutters, turning away so he doesn't have to know if Dostoyevsky gets some cocky look on his face from that. 

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He manages to get some decent rest in at least. It's a comfortable jacket, he'll admit that. He wakes up to Nikolai leaning over him, dangling a shopping bag. "Rise and shine! I brought dinner!"

"Dinner?" So it's just now getting into the evening. Kunikida hadn't ventured near the computers and there weren't any other clocks he could see, so he's not even sure how much time has passed. 

"Mmhm! Fast food, so not much, but better than nothing. Did you have a good nap, milashka?"

"I guess." He sits up with Dostoyevsky's coat slipping off one shoulder slightly, suddenly aware of how suggestive this looks. He tugs it back up and ignores Nikolai's stare. "Did you bring clothes too?"

"Hmmm?~ Was I supposed to?" Kunikida might've been able to excuse it as him not seeing the message if it wasn't for the way he says it. "Sorry, had no idea."

"You-!" Kunikida stops himself short in trying to punch Nikolai in the face. It shouldn't be that easy to upset him, but he's already upset and uncomfortable from the fact he's got nothing on but a jacket, and now he has to wait even longer to cover up properly.

That, and the fact that Nikolai's tone and demeanor only serve to remind him of his regular ass of a coworker he has to deal with, and damn it- it stings. He's painfully homesick all of a sudden, gritting his teeth and looking away. "Aw, are you al-"

"Just. Shut up, Nikolai." Kunikida balls up more under the blankets and coat. "Just give me the food."

Kunikida expects a comment in return, but Nikolai stays shockingly silent in giving him the food. He was right- it isn't much, so he finishes quickly and tosses it to the trash next to the bed. 

He's expecting Nikolai to leave, but instead he settles next to him on the bed. "You look lonely, moya lyubov."

"Yeah, wonder why that could be," Kunikida scoffs. "What do you want with me now?"

"I plan on keeping you company." Kunikida tenses as fingers thread into his hair. He's half-expecting Nikolai to just yank it to get his attention, so he's pleasantly surprised when he feels it get sectioned out into threes and then braided back together. "There's no hair tie, so it's gonna fall out pretty fast. You should braid it more often though."

"Maybe I will." Kunikida pulls it over his shoulder to look at. It is unraveling at the end, but the rest of it looks nice. It occurs to him that maybe he should question how relaxed he's being with one of the people that literally kidnapped him, but- Nikolai's warm, and nowhere near as overtly creepy as Dostoyevsky is. "Why are you bothering with this sort of thing? I'm sure Dostoyevsky's got more things for you to do than to sit around like this."

Nikolai grins, wiggling more into his space. "That's the trick- if I don't go looking for him, he can't tell me what to do! I'll just wait with you until he comes back, hope you don't mind. Vanya said you were looking lonely anyways."

"I don't need company," Kunikida huffs. "Especially not from the people who kidnapped me."

"I'm only trying to make you more comfortable. You should be grateful- I could do a lot worse."

'Try me,' is what Kunikida wants to say, but the image of all those chairman getting sliced in half comes to mind, so he decides not to test him. "At least actually get clothes next time."

"I'll admit, I kind of just wanted to see what you'd do if I didn't give you any. That, and shopping is so boring! I can't even buy you cute clothes, since Dos-kun says that'd be pushing too much right now." Nikolai pouts, and drops his head onto the fur of the coat's collar. Kunikida gives himself credit for not immediately squirming away. "Oh well, you can make it till either Vanya does the laundry or one of us goes out shopping next. Dos-kun's clothes might be too small for you, but..." He lifts his head again and cranes his neck to look Kunikida over. "I could give you some things. Might be a bit big, but that's better than nothing!"

"... Yeah, thanks." Nikolai doesn't really have the most appealing wardrobe, but he is right in that it's better than being forced to lounge around in Dostoyevsky's room in the nude. "That'd be nice."

Fingers comb through his hair again, the braid falling loose over his shoulders. "Dos-kun will be so jealous you're wearing my clothes instead," Nikolai murmurs, lips suddenly far too close to Kunikida's neck. He shudders at the breath over his skin, trying to lean away. "Don't run away, milashka."

"Leave me alone." Of course, it's not like any kind of normal conversation could last here. 

"Aw, but we were having such a lovely conversation just a moment ago! What's wrong? I'm just trying to give you some attention, moy pitomets." Nikolai's lips actually connect with his skin now, teeth grazing before biting down. Kunikida flinches and twists away, the sharp movement sounding a small metallic jingle. Nikolai reaches over and dips his hand under the edge of the coat, grasping the metal tags. Kunikida had nearly managed to forget about that damn collar, Nikolai's teeth still worrying a mark right above the edge of it. He breaks away finally, cool air stinging as it rushes over the spot left. "It's such a shame Dos-kun is the only one with his name on your tags," he sighs. "The rest of us deserve a part too, don't you think?"

"None of you deserve a part," Kunikida hisses, leaning against the hold Nikolai has on his collar. "You don't own me-"

"But don't we? You're so dependent on us for everything right now- bringing you food, bringing clothes, letting you use the amenities- Dos-kun's even being nice when it comes to letting you use his bed instead of the floor."

Kunikida digs his nails into his thighs, face burning- he can't even look at Nikolai. It's so upsetting because he knows he's right, he is dependent on all of them. He should be counting himself lucky that they aren't forcing him to stay in that original room with nothing. He strains against the collar to look away as much as he can. "Just go away."

Nikolai hooks his finger into the collar more roughly to pull Kunikida back to look at him. "Aw, do I need to tell Dos-kun you're being rude? I don't think he'd like that."

Kunikida grits his teeth, averting his eyes. He doesn't want Nikolai twisting this to make it sound like he's the one being an ass, but at the same time if it gets him to leave... he can probably make Dostoyevsky listen to him if he just tells the truth. "Do what you want, just leave."

Nikolai pouts slightly, but lets go of his collar and gets off the bed. "Fine then, but don't come complaining afterwards!" He sweeps his coat out as per usual and steps through it, fabric warping and disappearing a moment later. Kunikida leans back on the bed and rubs at his neck, feeling over the tender spot Nikolai had left. 

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With no clock to reference, he can't really be sure how long it takes, but when he hears the door start to creak open he huffs and rolls away from it, resolutely facing the wall. "What's this I've heard about you being rude, moy pitomets? I would've thought you've learnt your lesson by now." 

"I wasn't being rude. Nikolai's lying." Kunikida still won't face him, but he sits up a bit more and adjusts the jacket. "He was taunting me on purpose so I'd get upset."

"Really? I'll have to have a talk with him about that." The mattress dips behind him, and there's a small hitch of breath before cold fingers sweep Kunikida's hair away from the back of his neck. "What's this?"

"Nikolai left that," he replies, glancing over his shoulder. The expression on Dostoyevsky's face is indecipherable. "He got kind of handsy too while he was bothering me-"

"Did he now?" Dostoyevsky gets closer, running his thumb over the mark. "That is quite rude of him. He really shouldn't be touching what doesn't belong to him."

'Oh, not this shit again,' Kunikida thinks, moving away from his touch. "Whatever. It doesn't really hurt anymore. I don't-"

Dostoyevsky clamps his hand down on his shoulder and roughly turns Kunikida to face him, shoving him back against the headboard. Kunikida tries to check that the coat is still working to cover him as Dostoyevsky speaks, "I think I need to be more clear. I don't like it when people leave marks on what's mine."

"I'm not- yours-" Kunikida tries to retort, though it comes out barely above a whisper. Dostoyevsky looks positively predatory. He tries to cover the mark back up with his hair- even though he'd gotten out of Nikolai's lie the bastard still managed to land him in trouble. "What do you want? It's not my fault he tried that, go tell him off if you're so upset."

"I will, but I don't want to let him get away with marking you up like this," he says, leaning more into Kunikida's space. He grabs Kunikida's chin and tilts it up, ignoring his struggling. "It's already such a shame he got to you before I did," he purrs, cold skin and warm breath playing a juxtaposition on Kunikida's neck. "Perhaps I'll move your collar up just a bit, to cover it up..." He trails off, Kunikida trying to press himself against the headboard as lips find his collarbone. Teeth dig in, just barely enough to hurt, and Kunikida winces, working one hand out from the jacket and shoving at Dostoyevsky's chest. 

There's a soft metallic noise again, and Kunikida writes it off as the tags- until he notices Dostoyevsky's hand slip out of his pocket, firmly grasping a small knife. "What the hell are you going to do with that-"

"Shh, don't worry," Dostoyevsky coos, the knife disappearing between their bodies, cold metal brushing right beneath his collarbones a moment later. "Nikolai was complaining about the tags on your collar, and how they only have my name on them- I believe I might be able to compromise," he murmurs, knife digging in to leave a surface cut, "As long as I get to leave a much more obvious mark."

"You're out of your mind-" Kunikida hisses as the blade slides through his skin. "Stop-"

"Don't struggle, you'll make it worse. I'll make sure to tend to your wounds, don't worry- they aren't that deep, so they'll heal relatively quickly. Just deep enough to leave some light scars though." It takes a few more cuts for Kunikida to realize he's writing something with the incisions, curving beneath his collarbones and across his chest. "You're being so good for me, dorogoy, just a bit more." 

Kunikida groans and hits his head back against the bed. If it weren't for the precarious position of Dostoyevsky's knife, he'd try a lot harder to kick him off. "Why are you doing this, I haven't done anything wrong-" Why is he pleading with him like he's earnestly trying to be good for him-

"You haven't, you've stayed where you were told like a good boy all of today," Dostoyevsky reassures him, taking his other hand away from Kunikida's chin to pet his hair. "I'm not doing this to punish you, I'm doing it for everyone else." The knife stops at the other side of his chest, Dostoyevsky discarding it on the nightstand and tracing the cuts, chuckling when Kunikida winces at the sting. "I think it's a lovely decoration."

Kunikida glances down, squinting at the text. It's in Cyrillic script, so he can't really read it, especially upside down, but he's seen it enough times before to understand it. 'Fyodor Dostoyevsky,' it reads- he's carved his own name into Kunikida's chest. He shakes his head, refusing to look up at Dostoyevsky- he's been branded like fucking cattle. "Get out." It's a stupid threat, he knows that. It's not like he can follow through on it.

Dostoyevsky clicks his tongue at him. "I think we need to let it breathe for tonight. I'll bandage it in the morning." Kunikida doesn't fully register what that means until the coat is pushed off of his shoulders and whisked away. "I'll get you something to wear tomorrow, though I find it adorable how attached you are to my jacket." 

"I'm not attached." He can't really find the energy to be anymore snappy than that. 

"Sure you aren't." Dostoyevsky gets off the bed, looking down at him, ever-so satisfied. "I have some more work to do. Why don't you lay down and try not to aggravate your wounds?"

Kunikida wants to get as much blood on his fingers as possible and smear it over the sheets just to be petty, but he knows that'll probably only get him something worse. So instead he bites his tongue and tries to make himself comfortable, leaving the sheets somewhere around his ribs. 

It's only just as he's drifting off that he feels fingers trace the wounds again, like he's being petted. "Such progress, moy pitomets. You're easier than I thought."