Brothers Romanoff [MMF]

14

The Romanoffs were known for one thing: the best, purest, and most expensive drugs on the market. That and the one who looked like an Angel, and his immutable savagery.

They had cops in every district their drugs touched on their payroll. Their lawyers were untouchable. But they were quiet. They didn't brag. Didn't show up in fancy cars.

They showed up to the docks, and when they did, everything had better have been together.

Lev adjusted his tie, nodded at Mikhail to get a seat in the busy restaurant. His hair, was beginning to get longer, infringing on his eyes, touching his shoulders. He'd kept it, because of a passing remark from Xiomara. He kept it pulled back usually, in a ponytail.

Mikhail nodded at the waiter who shifted uncomfortably at the sight of the trio. The three took a booth in the side of the restaurant. Mikhail had become paranoid since Lev's...slip up with an officer they hadn't paid off. Lev didn't care.

Lev never did.

He cleared his throat, addressing the two with a small smile. "Eat to your hearts content it's on me. Xiomara?"

Xiomara's shoulders stiffened, her back straightening at attention at his demanding voice.

"Did you bring your wallet?" He asked his voice low and almost menacing.

Xiomara narrowed her eyes. "What do you know? I seem to have left it at your house by accident."

He smirked. "Good girl."

Mikhail's arm wrapped aliens Xiomara, his eyes on the door.

"What are you worried about," Lev asked, his piping hot lamb dish being set in front of him.

"The service here is incredibly fast for how packed it is," Xiomara remarked.

Mikhail shifted. But didn't tell her why. They'd been noticed. That wasn't good. It happened more and more now. Maybe it was because it was three of them. Maybe it was the unhinged look in Lev's eye as he slowly lost control. But whatever it was, they weren't in the shadows anymore.

He brought his wine to his lips. "Just enjoy dinner Mikhail," Lev waved his hand dismissing his worries.

The door burst open. Mikhail's eyes snapped to it, men flooding the restaurant with guns. Mikhail sat up. Lev kept his focus on his meal, cutting into his steak, even as the patrons began screaming. 11 red dots lined up, pausing on Lev's forehead.

He closed his eyes, bringing a slice of lamb to his mouth, with a satisfied sigh. "So good."

"Lev Romanoff. You are under arrest—"

Lev cut another slice, his eyes focused on his food. "Hey. I'm having dinner. Fuck off."

"Lev—"

"Don't you see me fucking eating here? Can I have one dinner with my husband and his girlfriend?" Lev demanded, putting another slice of lamb in his mouth.

He moaned. "Really so tender." He glanced up at his companions. He nodded at them. "No gonna eat? It's costing me a fortune."

"Don't move! Put your hands up. This is your last warning!"

Two of those red dots strayed from Lev to Mikhail and Xiomara's foreheads.

"Don't point that at them. If you know what's good for you."

No one needed his warning.

Lev narrowed his eyes, as one of the men approached him, putting his hand on his shoulder. One blue eyes suddenly shifted to the corner of his eye, the fork in his hand slicing through the hair, lodging into the man's eye, as he pulled his gun.

"Fire!"

Mikhail pushed Xiomara under the table.

"What the fuck is he doing?" Xiomara asked.

Mikhail just shook his head. Lev's hair came undone, his blonde hair shrouding his face. He pulled out a knife, systematically shooting and stabbing his opponents, his hands crossed, knife over gun, until he'd taken them all out. Blood spattered his face, his golden hair. His suit. He sat down, pulling the fork out of the man's eye, wiping the brains and blood off it. He settled into his chair, putting another slice of lamb in his mouth.

He sighed, setting back in the chair. "And now it's cold. Waiter? Heat this up. Please?"

Xiomara stared at the carnage under the table trembling. Lev suddenly appeared, startling her, this blue eyes wide and piecing.

"What are you doing? Eat."

Xiomara licked her lips, her mouth feeling dry. Lev didn't look up, but someone caught the scent of her tears.

"Don't cry,"

It wasn't meant to be consolation. It was a demand. Patrons fled the restaurant, trampling the dead bodies of the Swat team, and the parts Lev had left behind.

"Waiter!" Lev called, smirking. "Well that's coming out of his tip."