Mishka: Glad He's Dead

Mishka asked Goro to remove the memory block.

Found a nice and quiet day when nothing was going on-- no villains to chase, no enemies to hunt down and kill, no mystery objects to steal, nothing to do at court. He curled up in Hansel’s arms, and Goro burned some weird incense and muttered a prayer to Mask.

Untangling the memories took a while. It didn’t feel like a veil being lifted; it felt like picking apart several knots tied together.

The first thing Mishka realized was: Aleksei had, in fact, altered his memories.

*Barely*.

It was tiny things. Smoothing over arguments. He’d been pushy, sometimes. Once, when they were both younger, he’d hit Mishka a couple times, and Mishka hit back.

They hadn’t been engaged, he realized. Aleksei had implanted that memory. Implanted Zoya, his mother, telling him he was engaged to Aleksei.

Mishka curled into a ball, biting his knuckles, thinking it over. He remembered talking to Zoya about the engagement a few days later-- and talking about it with Aleksei’s parents. Had Aleksei fucked with all their heads? That was… fucking bold. Now that he had some distance from it, it all seemed insane. He hadn’t realized how manipulative Aleks was.

And then a few days later… when Mishka decided to run off… Aleks had been pissed. Doubtless annoyed all his hard work had gone to waste.

That part kind of surprised him. Aleks had a temper. He’d never-- realized that before.

Once it was done, and Mishka looked close to tears, Goro fidgeted, averting his eyes. Mishka curled up in Hansel’s arms and pressed his face to Hansel’s chest.

Hansel crushed Mishka against him. “Hey,” he whispered. He didn’t ask what Mishka remembered. Didn’t even touch it. Instead he said, “Hey. ‘s okay. Next time we go to fucking Calisham, I’ll find his body and crush it up and feed the powder to the sharks. Does that sound nice, nesichi? Nah, you ain’t gotta answer. I’ll do it anyway.”

Mishka hiccuped into Hansel’s shirt. “I wanna kill him,” he said miserably. “I want him to know I hate him.”

“Shh, shh. I know,” Hansel said. He kissed his hair, snuggled him close. “I’ve got you now,” he kept muttering. “I’ve got you now. All mine.”

Goro fidgeted again, glancing between the door and the small pile of boyfriends like he wasn’t sure exactly what his role in this thing was. It reminded Mishka of how Hansel used to fidget when his friends were wounded during pirate battles; he’d sit in the corner watching Serena stitch them up, pacing but having no clue what to do. Then Hansel started learning how to tie bandages and splits to help Serena.

That’s how Goro looked right now. Like somebody was bleeding and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Mishka made a blind grabbing motion and caught Goro’s outer robes. “Uh,” Goro said, paralyzed.

“Oh my god,” Mishka sniffled. “Look. Sit here--” He dragged Goro onto the bed and arranged him. Goro huffed. “Take off your boots, you heathen, don’t wear them into bed--”

“You made me get into bed."

“He’s got a point, nesichi.”

"Also, the fuck are you gonna do? Take 'em from me?"

Mishka huffed. He sat on top of Goro with his full bodyweight, then wrestled the boots off and kicked them on the floor. He thought about demanding Goro take some layers of clothes off, but it’d probably take too long. Once Goro’s shoes were off, at least, Mishka wedged himself between them, then arranged himself comfortably. He pressed his back against Hansel’s chest, and Hansel wrapped his arms around Mishka’s waist automatically; they had been together so long Hansel knew exactly how Mishka liked to be held.

Goro clumsily wrapped himself around Mishka, and Mishka pressed his face against Goro’s bony collarbone, wrapping his arm around Goro’s waist. Well. He pressed his face against where he figured Goro’s collarbone was, underneath a layer of robes and shirts.

He could feel Goro's heartbeat fluttering against his nose.

“Uh,” Goro said. “What now?”

“I don’t fucking know. I was going to cry but now I don't feel like it.”

Hansel made a relieved sound. He pulled Mishka tighter back against him, pressing his chest against Mishka’s back-- but that was pulling him away from Goro, which wasn't right, so Hansel shifted them both forward so Mishka could keep his arm around Goro's waist.

“You’re crushing me,” Mishka informed Hansel, muffled.

Hansel shifted a little harder on top of him, and Mishka blindly reached back, grappling for Hansel’s hand. He found it and squeezed it tight.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Mishka said into Goro’s shirt. “I’m glad he’s dead. One less enemy to be paranoid about. Maybe we... we could burn his body, though."

It was still morning. Downstairs, Amari and Joan would be cooking breakfast. Since they acquired a robot to do the chores, Mishka had given Samantha a lump sum of cash and cut her loose, and she'd left to join the mage's college in Skyport. Somewhere, Az and Raef were probably looking after Tikva. Roddy would be floating between various people, chatting with them excitedly and helping with whatever they were doing. Theo would be escaping her babysitter, whoever it was this morning.

Hansel sighed into Mishka's neck, finally relaxing. Doubtless he'd been really fucking worked up, worrying over Mishka. Not knowing how the memory removal was gonna go. Mishka squeezed his hand again.

“I’m not allowed to be this happy,” Mishka said aloud. “Something’s gonna get fucked up.”

Goro snorted, and Hansel made a grumbling noise of disagreement. Mishka knew what that meant. They’d probably had that thought, too. Both of them. Waiting for the other shoe to drop every time things were going good. Anxious bastards.

“Counterpoint,” Hansel said. “Maybe it's fuckin' fine." He kissed Mishka's neck. "I got you."

“Yeah,” Mishka murmured. “You got me.”

Things were really fucking good.