Brothers Romanoff [MMF]

1

"There is a unique look about her," Mikhail said softly, his cigar unlit, hanging out of his mouth. His long legs laid out stretched, his dark, jet black hair mused.

"Yes?" Lev hummed, leaning forward with a lighter, a cigar in his own mouth.

Mikhail nodded, leaning forward to meet the blonde bombshell, his complete opposite, as he lit his own cigar.

"Her eyes sparkle like diamonds," Mikhail murmured, pressing the tip of his cigar against Lev's their eyes locked, silently communicating.

Lev pulled back as his cigar caught the flame, inhaling and blowing out a plume of smoke.

"Diamonds? What corny horseshit is that?" Lev chuckled, his blue eyes intense and unnerving. "Fucking diamonds."

Mikhail shrugged. "It's what they look like like fucking diamonds, why are you so touchy?"

"Because you're talking about some random bitch she's fucking Mother Teresa or some shit, fucks sake." Lev chuckled.

Mikhail went silent observing Lev for a moment, his perfectly tailored suit pressed against his lean frame, his eyes on the ground, golden blonde hair slicked back.

"Her lips were full, like a heart." Mikhail started again after a beat, his fingers pinching the cigar.

"—Here you fucking go with the poetry again? Who asked for this amount of fucking descriptors?" Lev cursed. "Eyes, fucking lips—what about her ass?

Mikhail rolled his eyes. "She had...a lovely frame—"

"You're such a—lovely frame? You're such a fucking pansy."

"And you're a pig! Come on, you're 30 years old when are you going to start acting like an adult with a heart?"

"I don't have a heart. I have a dick and it works. You on the other hand..." Lev scoffed, looking away.

Mikhail heaved a heavy sigh, glancing away as well. The squeak of Lev's dress shoe against the wood floor.

"Don't pout," Lev said finally. "What do you want me to do with this information? These eyes of diamond and heart shaped lips?"

"I want you to meet her," he murmured, blowing out another plume of smoke. "I want you to meet her and be nice to her."

"I am always...nice." Lev said slowly, as if tasting the words on his tongue in sour dismay.

"Not bitchy nice. Really nice," Mikhail shot back. "Lev...please."

Lev scoffed, rolling his head back against the soft chair. "It isn't like you to beg so easily, Mikhail. I'm almost jealous. Why are you begging so readily when it takes me so long to get you to do it for me?"

Mikhail scoffed back, rolling his eyes.

Lev nodded to him with his cigar. "Careful. You roll them again and I'm gonna make 'em roll in the back of your head."

Mikhail stood, stubbing out his cigar, standing between Lev's open legs.

"Don't fucking threaten me," Mikhail whispered. "I don't know why I thought better of you, piece of fucking shit—"

He turned around. Lev rolled his eyes, pulling his wrist. "Okay, okay. I'll meet her. I play nice. Satisfied?"

Mikhail shifted. "I want her, Lev. You know we're intertwined. At least don't make this hard for me,"

Lev nodded. "If you insist. Now let us return to matters of business."

Mikhail nodded, sitting next to Lev on the sofa. 

"I hear methamphetamines are making the rounds," Mikhail suggested.

"Fucks sake," Lev murmured. "I meant more legitimate points of business. That merger with Winco. Did you talk to Herring?"

Mikhail sighed. "Fucking idiot. I had...words."

"Kind words?" Lev hummed curiously.

"With Herring?" Mikhail scoffed, glancing away. "I told him to sit and fucking spin. He said he didn't like what I had to say on tv. That the FCC doesn't appreciate crude language on household networks."

Lev waved his hand. "What can we say? So much for freedom of speech. Just what does this divided states of embarrassment allow us to say on television these days?"

Mikhail stood and began pacing. "Does it even matter? I don't want to do any more interviews. We're a business we're not fucking popstars. Not to mention too much spotlight might illuminate out more...shaded ventures."

Lev raised his brows in silent acknowledgment, taking a long drag of his cigar. "We did it for the stock holders. The occasional interview, talk show, magazine, is good. Means we're doing well."

Mikhail rolled his eyes. "I left Russia because I didn't want the government telling me what to do."

Lev waved his hand dismissively. "It's not so bad, Mikhail. The next interview you'll have is in the next year or so, just say fuck less. Now, sit. Sit next to me."

Mikhail rolled his broad shoulders, resting his head on Lev's shoulder.

"Does this girl have a name?" Lev asked gently, putting his cigar between Mikhail's lips.

"Hm. Her name is Xiomara."

Lev nodded, lifting Mikhail's chin. "I will meet her. But I will meet her my way."