partyom beta4omega "im pregnant" + aftermath

[01:27 PM] Artyom Alexovich: Artyom Alexovich has been having... a time. He can't say whether it's good or bad. It was certainly pretty bad a few months ago- the entire Metro under threat by a megalomaniac radicalist, the battle for D6, the whole mess with trying to track down the baby Dark One... the further mess with a friend turned enemy. Now, Artyom's life is rather peaceful. After the Order dissolved after the battle, Artyom carried the torch as long as he could, traveling from station to station, chasing rumors of trouble, trying to do what he can to make the Metro a better, safer place.

But there was only so long he could keep that up, before he had to accept his reality. The reality of a previously flat stomach steadily growing round under his clothes, making him worry about wearing his ranger gear, not to mention putting his body in danger when it's busy growing a life. A life he's decided, after much thought, to nurture- he couldn't bring himself to endanger it. A life he's known about since shortly after it's conception, but it's taken nearly the entirety of its growth thus far for him to acknowledge...


It was early in his relationship with the baby Dark One that it was brought to his attention. He and the Dark One, which he'd mentally started calling Dmitry, or Mitya, were getting to know each other through their psychic link, Mitya learning of humanity through him, and he learning of the Dark Ones through Mitya. As they made their way across the ruins of Moscow, with Mitya giving Artyom a new perspective on the wildlife and the way the world works together, things took a different turn.

Mitya appeared in front of him, reaching out his small hand to touch the ranger's stomach, and made a comment about Artyom growing a new life within him, another human being. The Dark One seemed so fascinated and delighted, but it took Artyom a bit to realize what Mitya meant... and when he did, he was devastated. It changed everything- the knowledge that he was pregnant. And what's more, that there was only one person that the father could be, making his heart ache.

Artyom didn't question that Mitya could sense such an early pregnancy, even though he only conceived within, what, the last few days? The life was only barely forming- and yet the Dark One could already sense it within him. Incredible. But Artyom found the news devastating. He was a ranger- he barely had time to be an omega in general, not with this life he chose to lead, let alone a pregnant one. How can he fight like this? Now it's not just his life in danger, which he could handle, but another...

Ultimately, Artyom tried to pack away the knowledge for later. It was no use worrying about the safety of a bundle of reproducing cells in his belly, he was in danger regardless. He couldn't just choose to drop what he was doing- too much was at stake, and he was already too tied up in it. He can consider his options later- if he survived.

But what made matters worse was, mere hours later, after the storm, Artyom ran into the last man he wanted to see: Pavel, manning a blockade in the Red Square. Pavel, the father of the life growing within Artyom, who has no idea as he scolds Artyom for being an idiot to not join the Red Line, as he starts to remind his men that they have 'special' orders (see: murderlize) regarding this particular ranger... But Artyom is barely paying attention to what Pavel is telling him or the squad. He's too focused on Pavel being... here, right here, and the knowledge he'd been given just hours earlier. Holding his gun against himself with one hand, his other briefly presses to his gut, where he knows there's a new life just sprouting, one that Pavel put there with him.

He wants to tell him. Regardless of everything, he wants to. Even if Pavel is readying to have his men try to turn him into a fine blood mist, even if they're meant to be enemies now, even if Artyom's hand may be forced to kill him, he wants to. Will it change anything? Maybe not. Pavel might not even believe him. And anyways, Artyom's down here in this corpse-ridden courtyard, with Pavel and his men huddled in the building, where he could never read Artyom's words before first shooting him. So he couldn't even if he wants to- but he wants to- he wants to try, he does, he wants to-

"Pavel!" He says, startling even himself as his voice croaks out just loud enough to be heard over Pavel's loudspeaker, interrupting the Red before he can finally give the order to fire on the ranger. It takes Artyom a moment to recover from his sudden, surprising speech, taking a breath, but should Pavel pause too at the first spoken word he's ever heard from Artyom's voice, he'll surprise himself again as he manages to say in a slightly shaken, croaking voice, just loud enough to be heard from the courtyard as he spills the truth, his hand still pressed flat to his belly, his green eyes searching the windows to try and spot the Red through the glare of the spotlight. "... I'm pregnant."

[01:47 PM] Pavel Morozov hates that he's going to have to try and kill Artyom. He knew the moment that he recognized Artyom, the way he moved and held himself and his gun, that he wouldn't be able to let the guy through alive, and it-- it fuckign sucks, but he's got his orders, eh? He's got to follow orders, do as he's told, or else-- well--

So he yells down to Artyom, tells him that he'll kill him, tells him that he brought this on himself, and tries to convince himself of the same things, that this is inevitable, that Artyom made this choice for the both of them, he can do it-- but then he hears his name in an almost-unfamiliar voice, just loud enough to cut past his taunts. And then Artyom follows it with news that--

Pavel doesn't doubt, but his breath is stolen away, and he stands there, back to the wall, shaken like a bullet just grazed his heart.

"... I--" he starts, then swears, softly, and lifts the megaphone again, and yells to Artyom, "You-- you-- you could probably still get out of here, Artyomik, turn back," without thinking, because he can't-- he can't-- Artyom is pregnant, and-- and-- there's only one reason that could even be slightly relevant, eh? He knows what that means.

His men are giving him weird looks, but he doesn't motion for any more to advance on Artyom. Not yet. Maybe-- maybe Artyom won't force anything...

[01:53 PM] Artyom Alexovich isn't trying to force anything. Really, he's not! Be he does take a small, uncertain but determined, step forward. He still has his hand on his gun, and he lifts the other from his belly, looking up at the windows through the glare of the spotlight shining on him as he stands in the middle of the body-strewn courtyard. They could shoot at him now, really. He might still be able to dive out of the way behind some of the wreckage here, but though he's tense, his guard is almost down. He's not trying to force anything...

But still, he shakes his head. His voice has left him again, as it usually has, but his intent is likely clear. He needs to go forward. In his mind, they could always pretend they never saw him, let him pass through. But he can't turn back. Not when the way forward needs him, needs the Dark One. He's not the one forcing hands, here. But he won't turn back. So the small ranger stands there, waiting for Pavel's response, gunbarrel pointed to the ground.

[02:16 PM] Pavel Morozov sees him move, and he groans, tormented, to himself, before stepping to the window and calling out to Artyom, megaphone lowered-- it doesn't feel right, speaking to his... his friend, through the megaphone-- "Please, d'Artagnan, I'm only going to be-- be able to give you one chance, eh? You can't rely on friendship to stop orders or my men's bullets! O-or-- or anything else!" Like love. So much love. Pavel's heart is ripping itself apart in his chest, his resolve dissolved, he needs to kill Artyom as ordered but he wants nothing more but to tell his men to turn away and to throw himself into the arms of the guy who's carrying his child...

[02:22 PM] Artyom Alexovich once wanted to kill Pavel. As he chased the man to Venice, filled with righteous anger and ideas of revenge for the betrayal he'd face, he wanted nothing more than the end Pavel. But when he finally had the man at the business end of his knife- the very knife Pavel himself had given to Artyom when they first met- he'd hesitated. And that cost him his chance. And after that, his desire to get revenge steadily trickled away.

And now here he stands, with no desire whatsoever to go against Pavel in violence. They're enemies, yes. But he doesn't want to be. And when he finally spots Pavel's shape, stepped up to a window, his heart pounds a little harder, and he aches. He doesn't want it to be like this. It doesn't have to be, but... but apparently Pavel thinks it must, regardless of what he himself may want.

Artyom looks away from Pavel's form, down at the grimy dirt, and pauses, taking a breath. And then he looks back up, brow furrowed, and even if Pavel may not see it from his distance, Artyom's eyes are full of determination. He won't back away. Pavel can either let him through, or force his hand. He doesn't want to kill Pavel. He'll try not to. But there's only so much he can do when he needs to move forward.

And so the immoveable object meets the unstoppable force. Which will fail to live up to its name? Artyom shakes his head once more. He's not turning back. He grips his rifle tightly. Let the bullets come, Pavel, if that's your choice. You say that friendship won't stop your orders or your bullets... but they can't stop Artyom's, either.

[02:25 PM] Pavel Morozov stares back, face hidden by his own gas mask and by the distance between them, and sees Artyom think-- and move-- and--

"You fucker! I gave you a chance," he yells, and steps back, motioning to the men around him, heart racing and breaking and shattering in his chest as he raises his megaphone again. "One of us isn't leaving here alive, Artyom!" he calls, and hopes it's him, because he's not sure he'll be able to live with himself if he kills both Artyom and his own child.

[02:34 PM] Artyom Alexovich knows what Pavel chose the second he insults him in devastated anger, and he doesn't miss a beat, diving behind the nearest obstacle, readying his rifle and a new magazine- he loads his MGR for this. He's gathered enough of it from corpses that, should he survive this, he should still have enough to use as currency for a good while even after burying a clip or three in his enemies.

And then the fight begins. Mitya does his best to help, giving Artyom a sight beyond that of any human, able to see the heat of his enemies through walls, see them before they can see him, take them all out one by one through the windows, negating their advantage of the high ground and the cover of a building. Then the next wave comes, through the doors, men flooding into the courtyard after them, likely chased with more anger and taunts and insults from Pavel. But Artyom has gotten good at this. He's a ranger for a damn reason. He darts between obstacles, faster and slicker than the Reds, smaller and able to duck under their gasmask-inhibited visual ranges as he unloads bullets into their guts.

Soon enough, the flow of Red coffin-stuffers trickles to a stop, and it's time for Artyom to storm the building, and find Pavel. He ducks and peeks around every corner, carefully climbs stares, wary that more of Pavel's men may pop up from some hiding place to try to end him, or even Pavel himself. But nothing happens, and even Mitya has to comment- that he feels no more red energy, no more anger, no desire to kill... only sadness. Immense sadness. And it makes Artyom ache as he slows his ascent, carefully stepping around furniture and corners...

And then finally, he comes across Pavel in the old building, and he freezes. His gun is still raised, had been pointed at Pavel the moment he saw the human shape, but he doesn't fire. Just stares silently at Pavel with wide, sad green eyes over the length of his rifle. He's killed all your men, Pavel, and he can kill you if he must. But he doesn't want to. God, he doesn't want to. You won't force his hand again, will you?

[02:50 PM] Pavel Morozov drew back as his men advanced, and now he's crumpled up against a wall, not even looking at Artyom as his friend approaches-- shit, when he hears Artyom's steps approaching, he's going to turn his head away, dropping his loosely-held gun and kicking it towards Artyom. "You win, you fucker," he tells Artyom, voice low and hurt, "you get to go on. I hope the next guy in your path fucking shoots you dead." He doesn't want that at all, but he hurts, so much, so devastatingly crushed, heart pounding as he waits for death.

[02:58 PM] Artyom Alexovich is sure Pavel doesn't mean that. Not when he's giving up without even a scrape, refusing to fight Artyom himself. Not even to just deck him. Artyom sighs in his gasmask, and lowers his gun, letting it hang from a strap at his side as he steps closer to Pavel, and just... stares down at him.

He won't kill you, Pavel. He can't. Maybe if you were trying to kill him, maybe if he had no choice but to shoot or die. But when Pavel is just sitting there pathetically, his weapon kicked away... how could he ever kill Pavel? Kill such a miserable man who had once sat so close to his heart... who still has a strangled little place reserved right next to it? The Dark One comments on Pavel's misery, that he's confused... why did they fight, if he didn't want to, only to give up? Mitya doesn't understand. And Artyom isn't sure how to explain.

Regardless, he won't give Pavel the death he expects. Instead, Artyom kneels down in front of him, and reaches for his clipboard- maybe Pavel thinks Artyom's going for his knife, until he produces that familiar board of leather with the compass and strapped pencils and scraps of paper. Artyom fumbles with a pencil nub in the thick gloves he's wearing, and scrawls a message- only to scratch it out after only a word or two in and writes something else. And then he turns it to Pavel- whatever he was writing before is no longer legible, but under the scratchouts is a simple sentence, cold and detached and only caring about Artyom's mission: "What is Korbut's plan?"

Will Pavel tell him? Or will he force Artyom's hand once more, and bring the Dark One into the mix? Because he can easily steal his answer from Pavel's memories. He's just giving Pavel the chance to spill it himself. But he'll... understand, maybe, sort of, if Pavel still refuses to betray his commanding officer.

[09:41 PM] Pavel Morozov waits for death, and gets the scratching of a pencil on that familiar clipboard-- ah-- Artyom wants to talk now, does he?

With effort, he turns his head to his friend, and meets his green eyes for just a heart-wrenching second-- Artyom might see that Pavel's are red and shiny, even though it doesn't look like there's been any tears shed behind the glass of his mask-- before dropping his gaze to Artyom's writing, familiar crisp letters--

"What, is that why you haven't killed me yet? I-- I'm not telling you anything, you son of a bitch." Maybe if he can keep Artyom here long enough, he'll miss the whole thing, even if Pavel's executed afterwards for failing to kill him. "We're not m-musketeers anymore, we aren't working together-- or do you want my integrity to go with my life and my kid, eh, d'Artagnan? Taking it all away from me at once? Go shove it up your ass."

[09:52 PM] Artyom Alexovich sighs heavily into his gasmask. God damn it, Pavel. Of course you choose the most bad faith reading of this you possibly could. He shakes his head in disappointment, and drops the subject. Well alright, then, Pavel. You've forced his hand again. ... But that doesn't mean that hand has to act right away.

Putting his clipboard away again, he instead just... looks sadly at Pavel. At the redness of his eyes, which makes his heart ache, make his own eyes grow a shininess to match just looking at them. Damn it, Pavel. It didn't have to be like this. They didn't have to part ways like this. Artyom drops his gaze, shaking his head again, laughing a little bitterly. 'We aren't muskateers anymore'- haha, that hurts a bit, as angry as the muskateer shit made him after the betrayal before, now the denial of it hurts... and yet Pavel still calls him d'Artagnan.

He drops down to both knees, an scoots a bit closer to Pavel, looking back up to his face, his own full of hurt and longing and regret and still a bit of anger. He won't kill you, Pavel. But he'll still get that information from you. But not in the way you think- he can feel the Dark One at the edges of his mind, always so close by, creeping nearby just out of sight, ready to help at any moment. But not yet, right now he- he just- he can't stop thinking about-

Artyom reaches out, hesitantly, expecting Pavel to smack him away or otherwise react with violence or defiance, but he tries to take one of Pavel's hands in both his skinny gloved ones, squeezing it if Pavel lets him, and if he continues to let him, Artyom... tugs it close, to press Pavel's hand against his belly, his eyes still fixed on Pavel's, so hurt and longing.

[10:13 PM] Pavel Morozov ... can't, he just can't, he had steeled himself to fight Artyom in the first place and then it had all shattered when Artyom had announced he was pregnant-- suka-- he's helpless, emotionally, even though he's physically unhurt, and he lets Artyom take his hand, looking back at him with hurt and shallow anger over a deep, deep pool of sadness and maybe a little shame, that he's this weak, that he's drinking in what he can see of Artyom's face, that his heart is beating fast in more than fear when Artyom takes his hand...

"Artyom," he whispers, pained, and lets him pull it, and-- "[b]Artyom[/b]," he groans, shoulders curled in, drinking in his face as his dead comrades rot outside, hand spread over his flat belly and knowing he put life there... "Don't do this to me, Tyomik, please... j-just go..."

[10:27 PM] Artyom Alexovich makes a quiet noises, small and strained and pained, and he drops his gaze, looking down at the floor, and at Pavel's hand, and he trembles for a moment. He wishes things didn't turn out this way, and he makes another noise, before dropping Pavel's hand listlessly, staying still for a moment before he steels himself with a heavy breath. Well. Time to carry on, then.

Mitya emerges from whatever darkness he hides in, and Artyom looks up at Pavel with regret, before the  little Dark One comes close to touch both their faces, and let Artyom into Pavel's memories... There, he finds the information he needs, the last missing pieces of Korbut's plans that he needed to know in order to stop it. The monster. But then he's dragged from Pavel's memory by those disgusting hands of the damned, forced into their unreal realm, and there- there he finds Pavel, held in place by so many of them, Mitya warning him that they don't have much time, they can't stay long.

Pavel is shouting at him, shouting for him, begging him, to end him or save him, just don't let these things have him. Artyom realizes he could kill Pavel for his crimes right here, the evil he's committed thoughtlessly without question in the name of his hypocritical ideology, let them do the job for him. But he couldn't. He never could. Pavel was so very different from Artyom, and yet so similar. He does what he thinks he must to save the Metro. As Artyom does. As Artyom had, when he murdered all of the Dark Ones, except for little Mitya.

So he forgives Pavel. Forgives him of his sins, and Artyom feels a portion of a weight lift from his own soul, as if he was also forgiving himself. Which... in a way, he was. Except... in a way, he realizes he already forgave Pavel. It's obvious in hindsight, when he gave the man so many damn chances here in the Red Square. But here now he actually acknowledges it. So, he answers his friend's pleas for mercy, pulls Pavel from the grip of the damned souls, and finds them in the normal reality once again, with Pavel now unconscious in front of him, just like Lesnitsky had been after delving into his mind. And Artyom silently pulls Pavel to sit upright, propped against the wall... and pulls a filter from his supplies, gently screwing it onto Pavel's gas mask. He's not hurt, and should wake soon, but whatever strain of the Dark One invading his mind has knocked him out for the tme being.

At least Artyom won't have to say goodbye.He rests his hand briefly on Pavel's shoulder, squeezing it, before letting go, and standing up. Well. Time to go. Go, and return to his duty. Return to refusing to think about Pavel's future child, and whether or not he'll ever see the father again, if either of them will even survive.



And now we return to the present. He did survive. Artyom did, at least. He saved the Metro again, for what it's worth. The Red Line is falling apart- still the most populous faction in the Metro, but with many of the ranking officers of the military, and especially Korbut, and much of the military force itself being destroyed at D6, and Moskvin being, at the very least, deposed, if not killed... it left one hell of a power vacuum, and the Red Line is struggling to recover, and no one knows what the fate of that faction will be, especially the future of their ideology.

Artyom has no idea if Pavel made it. If he lived, or died of suffocation if he didn't wake in time, or if a mutant crawled in through a window and ate him, or even if he died at some later, unrelated incident. It doesn't matter, really. Artyom's living in Polis now, his guns and knifes and armor set aside unused for months now as he struggles to settle back into a more domestic life, which he hasn't led since he left home at the age of twenty, when Hunter vanished. It was only a year and some months or so ago, and yet... it feels so long. And Artyom struggles to relax, feeling antsy, uneasy, wanting so badly to return to the life of a ranger.

But he can't. He has more than just himself, and even the people he wants to help, to think of now. His belly grows by the week, by the month, and he's been lucky enough to be treated well by Miller, despite his fears of telling his former commanding officer the truth. He's been given a decently-sized apartment, at least as big as the one his stepfather had back at Exhibition, despite Artyom's protest. He was planning on leaving Polis after the birth, having already written home to Alex, detailing the situation, and received words of glowing support and love and offers of help in return. But Miller wouldn't have it- even if Artyom was only staying with the newborn child a single day, Miller insisted that the man some called the savior of the Metro (and at least twice now) deserved space for a small family.

A family. That's what he's growing now, small as it is. Just him, and this unborn child. And in just a few months, it'll be the two of them together. And despite his plans to return to the station he grew up in, to his family, to raise the child with the aid of the people who know him best, and despite the constant presence of the life within him and the future with a child, Artyom has never felt so alone. Even whenever he finds himself in the impressively large marketplace in Polis.

He has to remember to eat more, he tells himself as he writes out his shopping list in his apartment, pondering adding pork to the list. He's eating for two now, and it's really getting hard to hide- with Artyom's small frame, the clothes he has are always just a little too big, and the warm coat he wears is bulky, for a while easily hiding the small slope to his belly, leaving him looking like the same old Artyom... but now, even his baggiest clothes can't hide the way his belly sticks out in a way uncharacteristic of someone with his skinny frame.

The more obiously he shows, the less he tries to go out. He knows he's lucky he has Miller's friendship, that Miller holds a high place in Polis. He knows that a man like him, in the situation he's in, is not looked on favorably by the general populace. Post-apocalyptic Russia isn't exactly the friendliest place for an omega male, let alone a pregnant one, and he tries to avoid being seen like this as much as he can. If only from his own shame. But a guy's gotta get food, and it's not like someone's gonna do his shopping for him...

Artyom sighs, and adds pork to the list, followed by a reminder to pick up his refill of his subscription of those prenatal vitamins he's been advised by one of the doctors here in Polis to take. And then he takes the clipboard and a jacket, still halfway putting it on over his shirts as he steps out the door, fully not expecting if someone might be here to see him...


[10:49 PM] Pavel Morozov had... it had taken him a while to find his courage again, yeah? He'd gotten home all right, eventually, torn up inside but finding home torn up, too, and plunged himself into things that weren't thinking about Artyom, about their kid, about wondering if he'd ever see either of them again, if Artyom hated him, if--

There's no work that fills every hour of every day, though, so the thoughts built up, in quiet seconds and minutes, until Pavel found himself dreaming about Artyom, Artyom alive and loving, or alive and angry, or dead and cold and picked over by crows in the ruins of the D6 battle-- ahhh, shit, he doesn't know if he wants to know, but he also desperately needs to know, so one day he packs a bag and takes his passport and carries himself out of the red line, on a "mission" he gave himself that ought to cover his absence for a week or two, and sets off trying to find Artyom, starting Polis, home of the Rangers and, perhaps, home to information about Artyom...

And then he'd found the information, found Artyom, found his way to Artyom's doorway in a dream-like haze, unsure of if he should knock like this, or watch Artyom from afar, or just leave him a note, perhaps, ask him to meet Pavel someplace quiet...?

The choice is made for him when Artyom comes out the door, though, nearly running into Pavel as Pavel's heart stops at the sight of him.

[10:56 PM] Artyom Alexovich jerks back slightly, when he realizes there is someone /right there/ in front of his door, and in his way, and he looks up- and freezes, jacket still half-pulled on, and those bottle-green eyes go wide.

It's Pavel. The last person he could ever expect to be on his doorstep. Pavel, alive and looking mostly healthy and /right here/, right in front of him, at his apartment... Did Pavel come looking for him?? Frozen in place, Artyom's breath hitches and he briefly forgets how to breathe, his heart suddenly racing, and his jaw drops.

[11:00 PM] Pavel Morozov stares back, lips parting, and blurts out, "H-hi, priyatel! Ah, ah, imagine meeting you here, on your doorstep, hahaha, wow, what a coincidence, that we're both here at the same time! Uh, should I go? I-- I-- sukaaa, shit, I'm fucking this all up, my friend--" He reaches out and touches Artyom's face, to make sure he's real, then pulls his hand back abruptly, coloring pink in the dim tunnel lights. "You, um, look all right!"

[11:11 PM] Artyom Alexovich looks pregnant, is what he looks like, with his baby bump just barely starting to stretch his shirt out forward. It might have been able to be hidden with that jacket, maybe, but with it open and only half pulled on... there it is. There's his tummy. Artyom twitches slightly at the touch to his face, but doesn't have time to really react before Pavel's pulled away, pink in the face, and Artyom's cheeks color slightly too...

He unfreezes, shrugging his jacket all the way on, but leaving it open over his undershirt and the baggy overshirt buttoned over his belly. He remembers how to breathe, taking a couple shaky breaths, his eyes still wide as he looks Pavel over... God, he's here, he's alive and here, and he's the same goofy wreck he's always been, rambling when he's nervous and still so devastatingly charming even when he's acting stupid, and... and Artyom can't stop a small smile from growing on his face.

[11:19 PM] Pavel Morozov takes a couple slightly fast breaths, and breaks out into a nervous grin, babbling-- blathering-- "You're definitely alive, at least! I wasn't sure you would be. And here! I wasn't sure about that, either, when I came to Polis, but here you are, eh? And, um-- it looks like you're not the only one alive, hey, priyatel?" He glances down at Artyom's belly, blush darkening. "That, or they've been feeding you way too well!"

[11:26 PM] Artyom Alexovich gives his own slightly breathless, sheepish laugh, his cheeks coloring pink, both embarrassed and... something else. He glances down at himself, at his belly- nope definitely pregnant. The rest of him is still as twiggy and underfed as it's always been, but his belly is a taut, steady, gentle roundness of an early baby bump. He touches his hand to his stomach, wets his lips with his tongue, and glances back up at Pavel a bit hopefully.

He could say the same thing, honestly. That he wasn't sure if Pavel was alive, that he'd ever see him again. He can't say he didn't think about that... somewhat frequently. After their last meeting, it's been difficult getting the Red out of his mind. The way he looked so hurt and broken. And now... here he is. Artyom clears his throat, and shuffles on his feet- should. should they be having this conversation right here? Should he back away and let Pavel inside, or try to continue going shopping, or...

No, okay, shopping can come later. Sure, he's dangerously low on his supplies, but still, he ate breakfast, he's not gonna die if he puts shopping off for a few hours. Artyom turns and shuffles right back into his apartment, leaving the door open for Pavel to follow, glancing back at him expectently.

[11:29 PM] Pavel Morozov still hangs back a moment, resting a hand on the doorframe and catching his breath before he steps in and slowly reaches behind him, to maybe shut the door... most of the way, at least... and he says, softly, "I'm glad."

Glad Artyom is here, and alive, and so is the baby, and-- just-- glad. Glad this wasn't all for nothing, glad that... Artyom hasn't kicked him out yet, to be honest, but also glad that Artyom is standing there looking so lovely.

[11:34 PM] Artyom Alexovich can't help but smile at that- despite it all, despite the betrayal and the evil things Pavel has done, despite the remains of hurt and distrust that sit in Artyom's heart, he's glad, too. Pavel's alive, Pavel's here, Pavel actually... sought him out. Just to see him. That's... wow?

Artyom, steps back, back towards Pavel and the door, to reach out, and- close the door all the way, you'll leave a draft, and there's still embers burning in Artyom's little stove-fireplace, warming the room despite the chill of the nuclear Russian underground.

But then he looks up at Pavel, and smiles again, God, he's actually just... really happy to see the guy. Despite it all, he is.

[11:36 PM] Pavel Morozov is really close to Artyom, now, and he can smile down at him, and shyly lay a hand on Artyom's cheek, unsure of if it's welcome, but desperate in his heart to touch Artyom with every grimy fingertip.

[11:39 PM] Artyom Alexovich doesn't flinch or cringe, but he does twitch, mostly just out of surprise- Oh, God, it's really been too long since he's felt this. Since he's had Pavel touch him so sweetly. Not since before Pavel broke his fucking heart. Not since around when their unborn child was conceived.

Artyom can't resist. He has his weaknesses. He bites his lower lip, and tilts his head into the touch, brow furrowing slightly as his eyes just... maybe get a little misty, and he lifts a hand to lay it over Pavel's on his cheek., and lifts the other, too, to just rest against Pavel's arm, thumb rubbing through Pavel's sleeve.

[11:41 PM] Pavel Morozov sighs softly, and leans in a little, telling Artyom, "Hey, hey, no tears, my d'Artagnan, what's there to cry about?" as he gets... kind of... close to Artyom... but he doesn't dare kiss him yet, so he just rubs his cheek, slowly, with his fingertips.

[11:47 PM] Artyom Alexovich isn't crying!! His eyes are just a little bit wet, and he tries to blink it away, it's just- dammit, fuck, he's MISSED Pavel, missed him and fucking worried about him, agonized over his fate after their last depressing, heartbreaking meeting, couldn't get that miserable look on his face and in his eyes and that anger and hurt in his voice out of his mind. And here he is. Artyom's not entirely sure he's not just having a dream, a fantasy of the man who stole and broke his heart and fathered his child coming back to try and repair it.

He takes a slightly shaking breath, and shakes his head, failing to shake away the emotions crawling up his throat and to his eyeballs, but he doesn't /cry/. Instead he grips Pavel's hand with his own, and finds his other hand with his other, grabbing that one too, pulling the first away from his face, and drawing both to... to his stomach, his gently rounded belly, a good few months pregnant and very showing, but not yet terribly large. If Pavel's real, he needs him to feel, to feel him, feel their child between them... And it hurts his heart less than the last time he wanted Pavel to touch his stomach.

[11:50 PM] Pavel Morozov lets out a low noise, and-- and-- holy shit, that's a hell of a baby bump, so round and firm under his hands... Pavel rubs his hands there, slowly, looking down at them, pink-skinned and red-eyed and awed. "Well-- okay, maybe there's a little to cry about," he grants, lowly, and blinks hard to try and hold back tears. "Shit, you've got my kid in there... priyatel... Tyoma..."

[11:56 PM] Artyom Alexovich had looked up at Pavel with a furrowed brow and hopeful eyes when he did that, and now Pavel is clearly so terribly pleased, and he's so glad he did. Pavel is so pleased, and so teary-eyed, even more than Artyom was, and he chuckles softly, oh so it's okay to cry if it's Pavel that wants to cry, he sees how it is...

His thumbs rub at the back of Pavel's hands, still resting them atop Pavel's as the man touches and rubs at his belly through Artyom's shirts, and he sniffs a little, looking down at Pavel's hands, at the bump Pavel made with him... And then he glances back up, and chews his lower lip. There's something he wants so badly to do, and he's sure Pavel wouldn't mind. A part of him wonders if it's not a good idea. If he shouldn't be so quickly open and eager and, honestly, desperate. But fuck, he's agonized about Pavel for months now, let him have his irrational desires.

Artyom tips his head up and pushes himself up on his toes a little, in order to press a quick but desperate kiss to Pavel's lips, a kiss he's ached to give him. God, it's been way too long since he last kissed Pavel. Too long and with too much nasty shit between them since the last kiss.

[09:18 PM] Pavel Morozov makes a startled little noise, but lets Artyom kiss him, quick and eager-- oh-- oh, well, this is just going fucking delightfully, isn't it? Artyom-- Artyom isn't just not mad, isn't just alive and with his child, he-- he wants Pavel--

Pavel takes a moment to breath in and out, and smile wet-eyed at Artyom, and then he leans in and kisses Artyom in return, hands trembling a little with relief against his belly and lips soft. Ahhh, shit, he's in deep, but he doesn't even slightly want to pull away...

[09:22 PM] Artyom Alexovich is still kinda miffed, actually!! But it's hard to really STAY miffed, or act miffed, or let it take a hold on him in general, after having to see Pavel in the miserable state he was in last time they met, and after Pavel evidently came here specifically to seek him out... And after he's ached for Pavel while dealing with this pregnancy alone for months.

Artyom looks at Pavel hopefully, expectantly, after pulling away, only for... for Pavel to close the distance between them again, and give a return kiss, and Artyom's eyes flutter shut and he takes a breath, letting it out slow through his nose. God... God. He squeezes Pavel's hands where they sit against his belly, and makes a low, quiet noise in his throat.

[09:27 PM] Pavel Morozov pulls their lips apart, but he leans their foreheads together, and breathes out, "Ahhh, sukaaa, Tyoma... I-- I missed you... I've thought about you so much, Artyom, every day, when I couldn't think of anything else, wondering if you were alive, or all right, or-- or if you'd ever want to see me again..."

[09:33 PM] Artyom Alexovich makes another soft sound, and shudders a little, and he nods, because, fuck, he's felt the same. He's thought of Pavel so much after their last meeting, after having to see and hear how broken and miserable Pavel was, wanting so badly to feel the hands of the father of his child on his stomach again, just like this. Wanting Pavel's lips on his again, just like this...

"Mh..." He nudges his face forward a bit, to nuzzle his nose alongside Pavel's. Fuck, and he's been worried, too. Worried that Pavel got himself into some sort of bullshit after the Red Square. Got himself involved at D6 only to be ended by the Dark Ones. Or fatally punished for his failures. Or some other awful fate. Artyom had so many fears, aside from possibly never seeing Pavel again.

After taking another slightly shaken breath, Artyom pulls away, enough that he can flash a slightly tired, gentle smile at the other man, and draw out his clipboard, so he can talk, too. And the first thing he writes is "I've missed you, too. So much."

[09:42 PM] Pavel Morozov lets Artyom pull away, smiling back, lopsided and hopeful, and waits for Artyom to write...

"Ahhhh, shit, I'm glad," he tells Artyom, and lays his hands on Artyom's face, and then corrects, "Well-- I'm not glad glad-- but-- you know-- glad I was missed as much as I missed you, eh?" He leans in a little and kisses Artyom's nose, and his cheekbone, and then pulls back, still cupping his face.

[09:46 PM] Artyom Alexovich lifts a hand, to lay it at one of Pavel's wrists as the man cups his face, an he sniffs slightly, eyes moist, but still he doesn't cry. Instead, he clears his throat slightly, and then takes his hand back to write again. "I'm not entirely sure this isn't a dream." The words say. "I've had dreams like this before. Of you being alive and well, coming to find me, and I won't be alone, and I won't have to miss you."

[09:48 PM] Pavel Morozov grins, and assures Artyom, voice a little shaky and wet but cheerful, "I'm pretty sure this-- this isn't a dream. Most dreams don't have so much work put into getting around, eh? I had to find an excuse to head out this way, fill out paperwork, track you down... if this was one of my dreams, you'd just show up in my apartment. Hopefully naked!" He waggles his eyebrows at Artyom, and rubs the backs of his fingers over Artyom's stubble.

[09:52 PM] Artyom Alexovich's cheeks go RED, and he huffs, getting all flustered and translating it to a faux anger. "Ugh!" He groans, only to... to melt, almost completely, when Pavel's fingers brush over his jaw and stubble, and he gives a quiet, low whine. Artyom turns his head, to kiss lightly at those fingers, his cheeks still red, before he turns his attention to write, "Am I still like this in those dreams of yours? I wouldn't have expected you to still have attraction to me once I started getting heavier with this child."

[09:54 PM] Pavel Morozov goes "Ah," and turns a little red, and says, "U-uuuusually my dreams don't remember that part all the way through... you weren't showing yet last time I saw you, you know, priyatel? But, uh, I don't think I'd mind it if they had remembered." He might have occasionally remembered while beating off after a dream, and be very certain he doesn't mind the idea of Artyom pregnant and warm in his arms...

[09:56 PM] Artyom Alexovich laughs sheepishly, a bit nervously, his face staying pink. God! They've reunited for a whole, like, ten minutes, and already they're talking about Pavel's dirty fantasies. "Still," Artyom writes, regathering himself. "I hope this isn't just a dream. You really coming all this way, doing all that work, just because you missed me... It's like a fantasy."

[09:58 PM] Pavel Morozov thinks his dirty fantasies are very important! But also important is that-- that-- "I couldn't stay away any longer. I-- I couldn't not know any longer, my friend..." Ahhh, shit, he just... "I-- I think I love you, d'Artagnan." He doesn't think he said it before, not seriously, but he's pretty sure it's true.

[10:02 PM] Artyom Alexovich has not been told this before, no. Not by Pavel, and not by anyone else. Not romantically at least- his mother and stepfather telling him they loved him isn't like this. And Artyom's eyes go wide, and his cheeks get red again, and he stares at Pavel for a few long moments in shock and awe.

And then, without another scratch of a word, Artyom leans in close to just... press his face to the front of Pavel's shoulder, burying his face as he makes a quiet, slightly strained, low little noise, clutching his pencil and clipboard to his chest.

[10:05 PM] Pavel Morozov says, concerned, "Hey, hey, hey now, are-- that's not supposed to make you cry! You're not crying, right, Tyoma? I just-- I have to be in love, I can't get you out of my head or stop thinking of how good things were b-before-- uh-- shit, all that shit that happened-- or stop thinking about how great it would be to kiss you again-- or any of that fucking shit, you know, Artyom? I just fucking-- I wanted you to know it, okay? But no crying, please..."

[10:13 PM] Artyom Alexovich isn't crying!! He's not! His eyes are just a little wet... just a little... Listen, he's hormonal, okay?? You try being pregnant and keeping your emotions as balanced as they used to be!! Anyways, he rubs his face on Pavel's shoulder (and only a LITTLE bit of wet is rubbed off because he wasn't CRYING just a little dampeyed, OKAY???) before lifting his head again with a slightly shaking breath, his eyes damp and a bit red.

And he smiles, a little weakly but entirely earnest, but just maybe with just a little bit of a regretful longing and hurt. And then he pulls back a little bit more, so he can write again. "The rational part of me really should still be at least a little angry and mistrustful of you after what you've done, to me and to others." His very neat cyrillic says, "But I can't. I've wanted you back. I've ached from dreams of you, from thoughts of you. I've wished every day things could've been different..."

[10:17 PM] Pavel Morozov says, shakily, "Well-- maybe-- maybe it's not too late for them to start being different, eh? If... if we both want it to be..."

Pavel knows he wants it to be different, he wants Artyom to be in his arms again, wants to curl up against him and watch him write and joke and make him groan-- and maybe do other things to make Artyom groan-- but right now he mostly wishes he could hold Artyom's hands without taking Artyom's words away from him. He restrains himself to running his fingers through Artyom's messy hair.

[10:21 PM] Artyom Alexovich would LOVE to be able to talk without his hands, but unfortunately, that's not going to be happening any time soon. Still, feeling Pavel's hands in his hair is nice, and he resists the urge to tip his head into it, so he can concentrate on his words. "Are you sure?" He writes, "What about the Red Line? I can't imagine you abandoning it just for me."

After all, Pavel betrayed Artyom, sicced his men on him, refused to divulge information to him, in the name of the Red Line. Even if he couldn't kill Artyom, he still... mostly chose the Red Line over him. Chose Ideology over him, over the idea of Them, Together.

[10:24 PM] Pavel Morozov looks away, and bites his lip, and-- and says, "I-- I already chose you over it, all those months ago in the Red Square... don't you remember?" He chose telling Artyom to turn back, chose not to fight to the end because he couldn't, chose to give up and light the way forward for Artyom, even if he struggled against it, swore and dragged his feet against the changing tides of his loyalties.

[10:29 PM] Artyom Alexovich's heart beats harder, his face pink, breath hitching, but he tries to stay calm. "I remember." He writes, and pauses to take a breath, and consider his words, tapping the pencil against the paper and... and briefly glancing up at Pavel's face with such a warily hopeful look in those bottle-green eyes. "I just need to be sure. I do want you. I've always wanted you. Thinking about it, I was so angry for a while after you betrayed me, because I had wanted you, and I guess I felt rejected for your faction. Aside from the sting of betrayal in general."

He laughs a little bitterly, and shakes his head. "I just want to make sure you won't just leave me again. I've been alone all these months, and it's been hard, but I could handle it. But I'm not sure I could handle it again if you stay with me only to leave me alone again. Not with this."

[10:33 PM] Pavel Morozov takes a hard breath, and-- and asks, "You want me here, priyatel? Because that's all I need to stay-- I was ready to turn back around if you were still pissed at me, but-- but-- otherwise--" He leans down, and kisses Artyom, and says, lips brushing against lips, "I don't have the strength to leave if you want me here, Artyom..."

[10:36 PM] Artyom Alexovich doesn't want to be alone, but it's not just that. He doesn't want just anyone's company. He want's Pavel's. He wants Pavel. And with Pavel's lips still hovering so close to his following that little kiss (which made him feel weak in the knees), he shivers and takes a shaking breath...

And he nods, and he returns the kiss, eyes falling shut... and when he pulls back, lips still hovering against the other man's, they mouth words he can't truly speak, silently breathed against Pavel's mouth. Pavel may not understand that Artyom is saying he loves you, too.

[10:38 PM] Pavel Morozov is not experienced with reading lips with his own, but he-- he thinks that with the kiss and the closeness and everything, he gets the idea that Artyom does want him to stay, and he wraps his arms around him, breathless again, already, hands falling on the small of his back as Pavel kisses him again and again and again.

[10:42 PM] Artyom Alexovich hasn't been in Pavel's arms like this since before Bolshoi, and despite the sting of that betrayal still within him, the sheer joy of feeling this all-around closeness with someone who makes him smile and laugh and makes him feel cared for a loved like no one else has, regardless of the severity of their differences and altercations, heavily outweighs any of the negatives. Especially with Pavel's swearing that he's chosen Artyom above it all.

So he melts entirely into Pavel's arms, drops the clipboard and pencil with a clatter so he can curl his arms around the man's middle and clutch at his jacket, eagerly, desperately returning his kisses with damp eyes and stuttering breath, his gently rounded belly pressed up against Pavel's abdomen.

[10:45 PM] Pavel Morozov moans, lowly, moans Artyom's name and moans wordless noises of joy and clutches his beloved, and just keeps on kissing Artyom for... for forever, or at least it feels like forever before he stops and pulls away, panting and red-faced and a little damp-eyed as he tells Artyom, "Fuck, I missed you so much, Artyom..." He's... he's so glad that they get to come back together, now.

[10:48 PM] Artyom Alexovich is panting, too, struggling to catch his breath when Pavel pulls away, especially with the way his breathing shakes and stutters slightly, his cheeks just slightly wet. But he smiles, because he feels the same, God, he missed this stupid man. This stupid, wonderful man.

He nods, and makes an affirmative noise in reply, and lifts an arm to rub his face on his sleeve, other hand still balled up in the back of Pavel's jacket.

[10:51 PM] Pavel Morozov watches Artyom scrub his eyes, a hand creeping up his side, and then takes Artyom's hand in his, to pull it against his mouth and kiss the knuckles, adoringly, still breathing hard and still deeply in love. "You're... you're the most important thing that's happened to me, Artyom," he says, trying to tell Artyom how much he means to him, "I love you, I love you, I love you..."

[10:56 PM] Artyom Alexovich keeps being caught off guard by this wonderful idiot communist, and he whines, and lets go of Pavel's jacket to give him a half-hearted shove, because stop it, he's trying not to cry! He's hormonal right now and damn it, Pavel, you're making it difficult for him to keep it together!!

And he can't even fluster Pavel back by saying embarrassingly sappy things in return! Especially since he went and dropped his writing supplies. The best he can do is squeeze that hand that took his, and hold it in return, and tug it back, so now he can be the one kissing Pavel's hand and wrist, and nuzzling against it as he looks adoringly at Pavel.