Brothers Romanoff [MMF]

18

"You let him go," Xiomara said softly over breakfast, her eyes puffy and sore. She maintained it was mainly the shocked coupled with the lights, the cursing and loud noises swirling to make a PTSD triggering cocktail. But in truth, she would miss Lev.

"Hm." Mikhail said softly, cutting into his egg.

"And you'll wait for him?" She inquired.

"I will," Mikhail said firmly smiling softly. "You however have a choice. You don't have to stick around for this madness. I wish I could say this is the last time, but I said that last time so..."

"They won't come after you will they?" She asked, biting into a muffin.

Mikhail shook his head. "No. But I will be working damn near round the clock without Lev doing the backend. He's good with numbers. Not so good with people."

Xiomara shifted in her spot. "...I'm good with numbers. I'm an accountant, remember?"

Mikhail chuckled. "Of course I remember. But I would never ask you to tie yourself up with this."

"I want to help you," she said quietly.

Mikhail glanced up. "And you can. By keeping your hands clean. If anything happens, and...you're still around, we'll have you."

"About what Lev said...about me being temporary. I only meant—"

Mikhail shook his head. "It's okay. After all, you are now associated with the Romanoff name, and a witness to the failures of the police officers. So..."

Xiomara cocked her head. "So?"

He smirked. "So until this whole thing blows over, the next place you'd be heading is a morgue."

He stood. Xiomara continued her meal. "I hope that wasn't a threat," she called after him.

"Who me?" He called back.
"Yes, you," she intoned.
He smirked. "Couldn't be."

Xiomara looked around at the empty, silent mansion. "...then who?"

Xiomara closed her eyes, slowing finishing her meal as she pondered what to do next. Living with Mikhail was less optional than she'd first thought, but it wasn't bad. However, Lev's absence was a gaping hole, funneling a cold air into the home.

Xiomara stood having finished her meal following after Mikhail. She sighed, pacing in front of him as he lounged on one of the many sofas. Unbeknownst to her, his eyes tracked her, narrowed like a predator, lust brining inside them.

"Aren't you worried?"

Mikhail cursed in Russian before sighing. "You are looking at this all wrong Xiomara because you do not know him. He is not locked in prison."

Xiomara frowned, whipping around. Mikhail lit up his cigar, his 3rd in a matter of hours.

"What are you talking about Mikhail?"

He took a large puff. "The prisoners. The guards, they're locked in with him. The only thing that should concern you is whether Lev Romanoff will return whole. Or if we will get what remains."

Xiomara scoffed. "What is he some kind of devil?"

Mikhail shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder that too. Xiomara, I don't expect you to have any allegiance to us. You've only known me a month or so and Lev even less. You don't owe either of us loyalty. You didn't even know what you were signing up for."

Xiomara already knew that. But frankly, she had begun to like them, and more than that, she did not sense that she was being abandoned by Mikhail. By either of them, really.

Xiomara went through men fast. No one lasted more than a month. Not because she left them. She just never put up a fight when they did. And they always did.

"When do you think it'll be safe for me to move back home? My landlords done with his work." She sighed, touching her forehead. "Gods Mikhail."

He just shrugged, pounding in the sofa, cigar in his hand, his hair slicked back, legs spread.

"That is a good question," Mikhail murmured. And yet he did not complete his thought. Mikhail didn't continue and Xiomara stood in front of him, crossing her arms. "You know what...I saw a dress you would like."

She raised her brow. "Oh? You know how much I love pretty things."

"I know. It's the only reason why you like Lev." He mused, patting his thigh. She sighed and sat on his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. Lev was a challenge, but the reason she'd liked Mikhail was the comfort his presence bought.

He was warm and calm, like a gentle wave, his arms always open, waiting to embrace her. The two sat in silence, each devoured by their own thoughts.

Unbeknownst to herself, she squeezed Mikhail's neck leaning even closer. Mikhail, despite his outward appearance, grieved his husband's loss. Who knew when he'd feel he'd had enough, and return? Being separated from Lev was like a cold that wouldn't go away.

Everything just felt slightly more miserable. He couldn't get enough air, couldn't get enough sleep, his tastebuds dull his body worn out. Lev and Mikhail, Mikhail and Lev—the Romanoffs, were ever too far behind the other.

Everyone knew this, but not everyone knew their relationship, earning them the title the Brothers Romanoff.

Lev had laughed at that when he heard it. "We look nothing alike," he'd said, cupping Mikhail's face. "You're too good to have the same blood as me."

"Mikhail?" She whispered.

"Hm?"

She shifted in his lap, pulling back and cupping his cheek. "You're gonna miss him a lot aren't you?"

Mikhail nodded gently. She smiled, and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

Mikhail cupped the nape of her neck. "Your eyes are like diamonds," he murmured. "I adore you, Xiomara. You're so kind to me."

Xiomara leaned forward, kissing him gently.

"Hey, Mikhail?"
"Hm?"
"...Who's Katya?"