A/N: This is going to be three stories in several parts. This story has two parts. Sue me for OOC. Y'all should know I could care less by now...

Also. Somebody make me stop watching Sex and the City. This is what happens.

"Do you work, or do you just drink?" Yao handed the tall man a box of leftover food and began to untie her apron.

He smiled sloppily and shrugged. "Both."

"Yeah? Because all I ever see you do is drink."

"Your English is good."

"Yours isn't so much," Yao said, a slight smile on her face. "Though that might just be because you're always drunk, and I can't imagine that helps your ability to pronounce words. Now get up, get out. It's closing time. I mean it, this time."

The man grinned slightly and nodded. "It is. Yes. Da."

"Da?" She looked at him with some confusion. "What is that?"

"It's yes," he said, grinning. "I forget sometimes to say yes. Yes, da. It slips sometime."

"Sometimes," she corrected him, "It's plural."

He blinked again, tilting his head slightly. "Da?"

"Yeah." Yao tossed her apron over her arm and smiled at him, "Da."

"You like me, da?" the man asked, standing up and swaying slightly. Yao looked him over quickly: tall, blonde, dark blue (almost purple?) eyes, heavy-set, and with an undeniably attractive (albeit a bit drunken) smile. "You're cute, da."

"I'm also kicking you out of my restaurant. It's five in the morning. We have to clean where you've been for an hour past closing, alright? And you have to work. Or sleep. Or go puke in a gutter. Whatever it is you do. Mr. ..?" Yao stopped in mid-sentence, realizing with surprise that she had never even asked the name of her most familiar regular.

"Braginski."

"Braginski?" Yao grinned, extending her hand to him. "Cute. Is that your first or last name?"

"Last."

"So…" Yao looked at him expectantly. "Do you have a first name?"

"Ivan." He took her hand and leaned on her slightly as she pushed him to the door and out into the five AM glow of the early morning. "And you?"

"Wang Yao. Call me Yao."

"Isn't that a boy's name?" Ivan looked back at her.

She shrugged, grinning slightly, "Isn't that rude to ask?"

He shrugged back, now standing in the doorway, his face mostly obscured by shadow. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"You always are." She closed the door, watching him stagger out into dawn, and couldn't help but smile more. There was definitely something interesting about him.

It had been nearly a year since he had been coming in regularly. At first, there was nothing remarkable about him. He had paid for ever dinner with cash, he had eaten alone, sometimes with a woman, and he had always been a drunk. There were plenty of drunks in the city, and in the restaurant.

Yao had been running "Si Quian" for what felt like forever. She couldn't even remember the date of purchase. It must have been sometime in her twenties. That was an eternity ago. She was almost, what… thirty-seven now? Though she would always say twenty-eight, and who would judge? She aged flawlessly.

It was a miracle that the business hadn't failed. But the food was good, the drinks were cheap, and the hours were odd enough to satisfy everyone. Twelve PM until four AM, to make sure the impoverished lunch crowd as well as the broke drunks could come and enjoy. They did. Day after day, night after night. Yao sometimes wondered how she managed, but pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

She fell asleep at six, after a quick cleaning of the restaurant. It wasn't like the patrons expected a clean floor. All they wanted were clean glasses, dishes, and decent food and drinks. That, she could deliver. She was good at giving people what they wanted. But for herself… Not so much.

The next night, he was there again. "You look tired," he said, grinning. It wasn't a malicious grin, or a genuine grin. It was just this… grin. It seemed never to leave his face, just like the scarf that was wrapped around his neck. Yao couldn't see a reason for them, but they were there.

"I am," she replied, taking the empty plate from his table. "I get exhausted leaving the place open one hour later than usual for a ridiculous drunk regular who probably doesn't even have a home."

"Would that be me?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"It might be."

"Well then. Are you saying you think I'm a bum?"

"I'm saying I think you're an alcoholic. And probably a bum. No offence. I've known lots of nice bums in my life."

"Da. So have I. But I have a house."

"Do you?" Yao's eyes opened slightly wider. "Really?"

"I live with my half-sisters in Murray Hill. In a condo? Da. So… It's not a house, but… It's a house." He looked at her with severe confusion and sighed, handing her his empty vodka bottle. "I live in it."

"Murray Hill?" Yao's jaw dropped slightly. "What do you and your sisters do for a living?"

"My sisters are models. And my father was a famous general." The man's grin seemed to fade slightly, and Yao watched with interest as he tried to force it back. "And I write stories sometimes. When I'm sober. When I can sleep and think."

There was no snappy comeback this time. Yao had learned long ago not to insult a man laying his feelings bare before her. "I'm sure they're good story."

"They're all in Russian."

"I'm sure they're good."

"But you couldn't read them."

"Look," Yao sighed in slight annoyance, "I'm giving you a compliment. Can you take it, please?"

"Only if you have dinner at my house this week."

Yao was about to laugh, but stopped. "Are you serious?"

"Da! As heartache."

"Heart attack."

"What?" He stood up, scratching his head and looked at her, smiling slightly again. "What are you talking about?"

"The idiom," Yao replied, starting to head to the kitchen, "It's: serious as a heart attack. Not heart ache. Though that's clever."

"Clever?" He looked at her with genuine adoration. "Really?"

She nodded at him and grinned wryly, "Da."

"Da!" he repeated enthusiastically and wrapped Yao in a tight hug, his head resting on her shoulder. She almost dropped her serving tray, but managed to keep enough composure to stay upright.

"Aiyaa," Yao muttered, annoyed, "Warn me before you assault me, Ivan."

"Sorry," Ivan whispered, suddenly seeming much closer to Yao than she expected. "I didn't mean to. How about tomorrow night, da?"

"Sure. I'll get someone to cover for me. What time?" As she spoke, she could hardly believe that she was agreeing to this. "Where do you want to meet?"

"Here. I'll pick you up at five. It'll be fun!"

"You promise you won't go home and forget? Or…" she stumbled over her words, "Think this is a really bad idea tomorrow morning when you're sober?"

"I'm not that drunk now," he insisted, his breath hot on the back of her neck, making her shiver. "And I want you to come for dinner."

She pulled herself away from him, setting the tray with the empty bottle and plate on the bar counter and shook her head. "Why? Why do you want me to come with you anyway?"

His violet eyes were strangely serious while the rest of his face smiled. "I think you're cute. I want to know you better."

"R-really?" Yao couldn't believe what she was hearing. This wasn't the first genuine man she'd met in the city, but it was the first genuine regular. "Alright. Tomorrow, at six, you pick me up here, and we'll go to your house and eat dinner."

"Good!" He leaned in and kissed her on her cheek before leaving, his silhouette vanishing from the doorframe with a sway.

She stood for a long time, frozen in place by the kiss, feeling young and stupid again. For the first time in a long time, she was excited for something. But the next afternoon, the excitement had turned to dread, and as she paced her apartment above the restaurant, she hated both herself and Ivan for this whole mess. Didn't she have a single thing to wear that wasn't stained with something, or too large, or too flashy? Finally, settling on one of her most formal and traditional outfits, she decided that it would never get better, and she headed downstairs, ten minutes late.

"Took you long enough, sister," Yao's younger adopted brother, Kiku, muttered, catching Yao at the bottom of the stairs. "Your boyfriend scares me."

"He's not my boyfriend," Yao snapped, pulling her coat off the coat-rack and heading into the main restaurant. "He's just a guy."

"A scary guy!" Kiku yelled as Yao stormed off.

Ivan was waiting by the bar, eating rice-crackers out of a small cardboard package that Yao instantly and immediately recognized as one of the common brand she bought for the restaurant. Kiku probably gave them to him to keep him occupied. A closer look at Ivan made Yao hesitate again. He cleaned up well. Surprisingly well, actually. His dull blonde hair was combed back nicely, his bleary eyes looked bright and his skin that usually looked blotchy or sallow by three AM light appeared smooth and pale.

"Um, hi," Yao said, trying to remain calm as she approached him. He smelled faintly of cologne. "You look nice."

"So do you," he replied, his eyes wide, and his smile wide. This, Yao decided, was a nice thing about Ivan. At least she would be able to tell when he meant things. "Want to go?"

"Sure." She smiled hesitantly, and then took his hand in hers. He beamed, and they stepped out into the street.

The townhouse he lived in looked like any number of others. It was made of faded red brick, and a large green tree grew out front. There was a welcome mat at the top of the stairs, and inside there were several large oil paintings.

"Vanya!" a high pitched voice was heard, and Yao looked up at the stairs to see a small, thin woman with long blonde hair in a short black dress. "You're late! The food is going to get cold?"

"If it's going to get cold, why aren't you eating?" Ivan asked, his smile fading quickly.

"Because," the woman stormed down the stairs, and to Yao's horror, had a large knife in her hands. "I don't start dinner without you, you know that!"

"I'm sorry, Natalia," Ivan looked at the ground, visibly shaking. "We're coming to the table now, da."

Quickly, Yao shed her coat and hung it up, not bothering to take her shoes off as she usually would have. The one comfort she had in this strange house was that Ivan was holding her hand tightly as they walked.

At the table, there was an unidentifiable meat, a few potato dishes, and some fruit. There was also, sitting down and looking at her fork, a young woman with breasts that Yao had only assumed existed in exaggerated cartoon drawings.

"Let me introduce you," Ivan said quietly, his voice higher pitched than usual with fear. "Natalia, Yekaterina, this is Yao. Yao…" Ivan pointed first to the small woman, and then to the buxom one. "That is my half sister Natalia, and my other half sister Yekaterina."

"It's very nice to meet you!" Yekaterina said cheerfully, standing up and enthusiastically going to hug Yao, who felt almost smothered. "You're the first girl Ivan's brought home in a while."

"And you'll hopefully be the last," Natalia snapped. "Now sit. Katya and I prepared a meal. Eat it."

"Ignore Natalia," Ivan whispered to Yao as he pulled a chair out for her. "She's… a little crazy."

Dinner was more or less along the same lines. Yekaterina was very pleasant, Ivan was quiet and polite, and Natalia was more hostile than an army before a nuclear war. Yao wasn't entirely sure how to feel. They seemed like nice enough people, but there was something odd about them. They were related by the same father, but none of them had the same mother. They all spoke in Russian to Ivan at times, but neither of them spoke Ukrainian or Belarusian. And oddest of all, the sisters had very high powered careers (complete, they said, with charity donations ever month) and seemed powerful enough as individuals, seemed to love their brother, but had absolutely no interest in stopping him from drinking vodka straight from the bottle.

On the taxi ride back to her restaurant, holding a folder of stories to read on her lap, Yao kept replaying the night's finale. She had helped Ivan up the stairs to his room where he had kissed her and laid down in the bed, drunk and overwhelmed, the way she was used to seeing him.

"I think I love you," he muttered, his eyes not opening.

"I've been on one date with you," she replied, looking at the large painting of a sunflower field that nearly consumed a whole wall. "You're drunk."

"I'm better when I'm drunk."

"No," she went and sat next to him on his bed. His sheets were dark red and stripped with black. He looked deathly pale against the dark colors. "You're drunk when you're drunk."

"I'm always drunk. I always want to be. I'm a better person. I write bad stories, but I'm a better person. You should read my work."

"I thought it was all in Russian."

"Most of it. But… I put some of it to English. It's there." He pointed at a small blue folder on his bedside table. "Read it. Nobody else has. Nobody I talk to anyway."

"Not your sisters?"

"No. My editor, yes. So I talk to him sometimes but not often. I don't publish many times."

"What do you want me to do with them?"

"Read them. Tell me what you think?"

"What if I think I hate them?"

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "That's fine. I think I love you, so it doesn't really matter."

"Even if I hate them?" Yao asked again, laughing.

"Da. Hate them if you want."

Yao set the folder back on the bedside table and looked at Ivan curiously. He looked more the way she was used to seeing him now; scarf unwrapped, smile forced and fake, eyes unfocused, and his hair a mess. Slowly, her heart pounding more than it should have for just some guy, she leaned in and kissed him. He tasted like liquor and rabbit (which had been the meat that Yao couldn't properly identify by sight.)

"I don't think I'll hate them," she said quietly.

His face was passive, almost unresponsive as he said, "I hope."

"Get some sleep, alright? You look like you need it." Gently, Yao pushed Ivan's hair out of his face. "I'll see you tomorrow. Try coming earlier than midnight."

"Okay."

"And try coming not completely drunk, alright?"

"Alright."

"Thank you." Again, she kissed him, and this time he kissed her back, his fingers entwining themselves in her hair and forcing her down. They stayed like that for a moment before she stood up and smiled, going back downstairs to get her coat.

Yekaterina was waiting, a nervous smile on her face. "Ms. Wang," she muttered, opening the door, "Natalia is cleaning right now so I thought I might warn you… You shouldn't be dating our brother."

"Why not?"

"It's just…" Yekaterina began nervously fidgeting with her dress buttons. "We love him, and we think he's a very nice boy and… He's not stable. At all."

Yao crossed her arms, annoyed at this woman. Who was she to be giving caution? Did she think Yao couldn't handle herself? "I think he's probably, what's the euphemism, sick? As in has a small to gigantic problem with alcohol. But he doesn't seem unstable."

"Don't give him enough time to find out," Yekaterina said quickly. "He'll hurt you. He's hurt people before. He had this boyfriend, once-"

"Boyfriend?"

"His name was Toris and he was sweet but-"

Yao put her hand up, annoyed. "Boyfriend?"

Yekaterina nodded. "His name was Toris."

"And he was a boy?"

"Well, that's usually why people say boyfriend," Yekaterina mumbled, glaring slightly. "The point is that he started beating the shit out of the poor boy, and Toris ended up in the ICU. We had to spend a lot of money to keep Ivan out of prison."

"I'll keep that in mind," Yao mumbled. "Thanks. Yeah. Keep it in mind." She stepped quickly out the door and hailed a taxi at the corner, holding tightly to the folder of stories.

When I was young, my father made me walk for miles in the snow. I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything for a while. When it was done, my sisters wrapped my numb toes in wool socks and kissed my forehead. My father never spoke of what he did, and in time, I learned not to complain. It was simply easier if I walked, my eyes closed, my body numb.'

Yao sighed deeply, setting the folder down on the bar, looking at Ivan across the restaurant. He was half-asleep at the table, leaning over, another empty bottle by his head. Yao had been reading his stories since she woke up the morning three days after she had gone to Ivan's house, and had been anxiously waiting to talk to him since he came in at nine in the evening and ordered his usual sweet and sour pork with a bottle of vodka. But he had been tired, smiled at her weakly and shook his head. He wasn't in the mood for speaking.

In the three days since Yao had gone to Ivan's house, they had gone out once more, this time to a movie. It was a horror, and neither of them had enjoyed it. But that was the night they had made love for the first time.

"Ivan…" Yao went to sit down by him, looking at him sadly. "Your stories are good. I wish there were more."

"You read them, da?" he asked, trying to smile. "I've missed you."

"Why didn't you come yesterday?"

"Natalia said I needed to go to a party with Katya and meet someone new. I don't want to meet someone new."

Yao paused, leaning in to kiss Ivan's cheek. "I don't want you to, either."

"I stay with you tonight?"

"Sure. If you want." She took his dishes and headed back into the kitchen, cleaning them quickly before returning to the dim restaurant. "Come with me. I'll wake up early to clean."

Ivan followed slowly, his feet dragging behind him and tripping him occasionally on the stairs up to the apartment. Yao laid him down in her bed and kissed him. Clumsily, he kissed her back and held her tightly. They fell asleep still fully clothed, her head on his chest and his arms around her waist.

"Are you going to break up with him anytime soon and save your sanity? And your face?" Kiku asked calmly the next morning, cleaning dishes. "He's really not sane. Did anyone warn you about this?"

"Just because you do background checks on everyone you date doesn't mean you should do them for me, too."

Kiku shrugged, beginning to dry a plate while keeping his eyes passive. "Usually it turns up nothing. When your boyfriend's name brings up newspaper articles and tabloids from Moscow, you have a problem."

"When you are obsessively researching your sister's dates, you have a problem."

"I just want you to find a nice man. One without a criminal record that includes aggravated assault."

"That's all behind him, alright?" Yao mumbled, beginning to mop the floor. "I'm going to be fine. He's been coming here for nearly a year, right? And nothing bad has happened. He's sweet. He's creative. He… he tries. And that's more than most people do."

"He also dates men and then tries to kill them."

"Look, Kiku, I'll talk to him, alright?"

"Fine. But make sure you have something to protect you when you do."

"Alright, fine," Yao rolled her eyes, but took the note to heart.

When the restaurant was clean, and a little while before opening, Yao went back up to her apartment. It was probably best just to confront him and get the whole thing over with. He looked strangely at peace asleep on her small bed, his blonde hair shining in the light that shone through the slat curtains. Tenderly, Yao sat down next to him and touched his face.

"Hmmm…" Ivan opened his eyes slowly, frowning. "Yao?"

"Yeah, honey. How are you?"

"Okay."

"Do you want some Advil or something?"

"Da. Thank you."

Yao stood up and went into the small bathroom, getting a glass of water of somewhat questionable quality from the tap and three small pills. She handed them to Ivan, who took them quickly and smiled. "We need to talk," Yao said quietly. "Or my brother might really yell at me."

"Talk about what?"

"Your ex boyfriend."

Ivan instantly stiffened and bit his lip slightly. "What about him?"

"Well, you're not denying you had one, so that's a good start," Yao sighed, "Just… I don't know. Why. I think that's what I'm supposed to be asking. Why?"

"It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, but it does."

Ivan looked up at the ceiling, not sure what to say. With a deep sigh, he mumbled, "I loved him the most. But he didn't love me the same."

"So you put him in the ICU?"

"Who told you that?"

"Your sister."

Ivan nodded slightly. "I got angry. I… I used to be angry many times. A lot. That's the right way to say it. A lot. And… I couldn't always be angry by myself, so I hurt him. He didn't deserve it."

"And that's it?"

"Da. That's it." He looked at her with sincerity, trying to smile. Yao knew she shouldn't have melted so quickly, taken him at his word so immediately… But he was so strangely beautiful in the morning light, looking so warm and natural in her bed…

"Alright. That's it. Now, come here, tell me you're over him, and give me a kiss."

He did. Yao closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, feeling warm and happy. This was a man who liked her. Sure, maybe he had some dark history, but what man didn't? And did she deserve any better? Her brother might say yes, but then again, her brother was still a virgin with some kind of strange complex about a waiter at a Greek restaurant in Chelsea.

Yao liked waking up next to Ivan, liked having him to see across the restaurant, liked the way he paid attention to her and complimented her on the strangest things: her shoulders, her hips, the way she dried glasses… He was attentive, kind, and romantic, in a strange way.