Chapter 476: Life Is the Time I Spend With You

[FROLO]

Sergei didn’t go back to HQ with his team. Instead, while they weren’t back, he stopped by the butcher where he’d borrowed the bone-cutting blade.

"Timur!" he greeted excitedly, like he didn’t look like the devil he was.

Timur was the owner of the butchery Sergei had passed by.

And more than anything, Timur was one of the friends Sergei had made in the football halls Katya always took him to.

Sure, Timur wasn’t the man’s real name, but Sergei was not going to ask his name.

It was the first time he didn’t do a background search on the people he interacted with.

Because Katya had wanted him to be normal.

And doing background searches on the people he met at a football hall where he was supposed to relax beat the purpose of it all.

Which was why he was back here, a smile on his face like the city wasn’t haunted by what he had done back there. But that didn’t matter.

"Man, you look like shit. Your boyfriend will kill us both if you go home like that," Timur, ever the silent one, said as his eyes raked over Sergei.

The workers at the butchery had their hearts in their mouths, like they did not even know what to do or say. Because even if they did, what the hell would they say to this?

Sergei Moskowsky?

The Devil of Frolo was chatting with their boss like they had been old friends for a whole other lifetime.

And they knew the fake name, but neither had the guts to correct Sergei or interfere.

"Yeah... Figured as much... Do you maybe have a place I can shower and clothes that don’t smell like... Meat?" Sergei said.

Timur glared at him, at the audacity of the man who had ruined his clothes all by himself and was making demands.

"You can take the aprons and go home with them then; let’s see what your boyfriend says about that," Timur grumbled as he walked away, and Sergei hurried after him carefully, like he was really in need of help right now.

"Husband," Sergei said, and Timur turned to the hopeless man.

"What?" He asked.

"My husband... He said I should go home and called me his husband. So we’re kinda past the boyfriend phase," Sergei explained casually.

Then he leaned on the nearest counter, ignoring the fact that he had bloodied boot prints on the butcher floor and the drops from his clothes.

"No way, that’s cool, man. Congratulations I suppose... In that case, do you need meat to make him dumplings?" Timur asked as he checked some of the drawers for something.

"He loves Pelmeni... Would you allow me to use your kitchen to prepare them and carry them home?" Sergei asked softly.

Timur just patted his shoulder gently.

"Of course, my man... and it’s on the house, though next time you come, you pay. But first, you need to get into the shower; you’re turning my butchery into a bloodied zone," Timur scolded.

Sergei looked at himself and then at the endless steps he’d made.

"Shit, my bad... Sorry," Sergei apologized in earnest, and Timur nodded and gave him the directions to the shower and where to find a fresh set of clothes.

"Make sure you scrub that bald head harder," Timur teased when Sergei made the last corner.

"Heard that!"

"You were meant to!"

An hour later, Sergei was cleaned up, dressed casually like a normal man in Frolo, not like the devil he was. And he had even made his Pelmeni for his husband. Not to mention Timur insisted he carry some minced meat home.

"Are you going to walk home?" Timur asked, and Sergei stared at him.

"Well, yeah..."

"The dumplings won’t taste as good when they’re reheated. I could take you home, but only if you don’t tell Pavel and Milos that I know how to drive," Timur said, and Sergei couldn’t help but snicker at that.

He remembered that conversation back at the football bar.

When they had been bickering over the game, and Timur was winning the argument, Pavel told him to shut up because he didn’t know how to drive.

It turned into a whole idiotic bickering moment, but clearly one that Sergei had never forgotten.

"I didn’t even see you today, bro," Sergei said, zipping his lips and pretending he was blind in both eyes.

And Timur laughed at the simplicity of the man.

"Your gear..." Timur said like he just remembered Sergei had come here in combat wear.

Sure, he didn’t come with any weapons on him because he’d given them all to Rastenkin like a close-of-business thing, but his clothes were still at the butchery.

"Could you please incinerate them for me? I kinda have no need for them, so they’re riddled with bullets;

"...and well, my husband will probably swat my head off for going home with bloodied clothes," Sergei said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, and Timur sighed knowingly.

"Alright, let’s get you home before Pavel and Milos show up and see me in the driver’s seat," Timur said.

And together they walked to his car while Sergei held a hotpot of Pelmeni and a container of minced meat.

The drive to Katya’s penthouse was a short one because Sergei’s five-thirty alarm went off. He should have been home by five, but he’d been a little held up.

And Timur, not wanting to be scolded by Sergei’s husband, stepped on the gas.

But by the time they were at the gates of Katya’s residence, the two men looked like they had been through a thousand wars on the roads of Frolo.

"At least the dumplings are still hot..." Timur said with a light laugh, and Sergei couldn’t help the snort that left him.

Oh, how to be normal in Frolo.

"See you guys this weekend for the games... And thanks for the ride... Also, maybe consider not sitting behind the wheel...

"For the sake of... Err... Frolo’s safety," Sergei said as he fixed his shirt, and Timur laughed at him for being the more ragged one despite being in the same spot.

"Have a good evening, Buran!" Timur said as he turned the car back home.

"You too, Timur!" Sergei said, waving at his very questionable driver of the day.

He made a mental note to be the one driving the next time he was in a car with Timur because that man almost killed both of them.

But it was a fun ride, if Sergei was being honest.

And with his friend gone, Sergei walked through the gates and into the home he was building with his boyf— his husband.

Gods, it would take some time to get used to it.

But it was absolutely worth it.

When he got to the door, he pressed the bell, and Anton, the security guard he’d assigned at the door, stared at him a little too confused.

This was Sergei’s apartment block.

Sergei had hired him.

Yet the man still knocked?

"Coming!" they both heard, and Anton just went back to his job while Sergei straightened up and fixed his collar casually.

Then the door opened and in the doorway was his beautiful Solnyshka.

His home.

His husband.

"Vladimirrr... You came early," Katya grumbled like he hadn’t seen the change of clothes, but then he couldn’t give a shit about that.

His boyfriend was home.

Early.

"I... I could wait... Wait in... the hallway..." Sergei offered in earnest, and Katya facepalmed.

"Your new curfew is six, not five thirty," Katya said as he pulled his alpha in.

And when the door locked behind them, he kissed the man softly; Sergei almost lost his bearing.

Gods, he loved the idea of home.