A/N: Happy Monday, everyone!
"I'm so bored," Alex muttered, staring at his literature homework from his perch. The sounds of silverware rattling and the low hum of chatter from the other diners did him no favors.
The restaurant had been exactly where Yassen said it would be, though Alex didn't recognize much more than the name emblazoned on the front facade when he arrived. He'd slowed as he approached in on the street, his breath pluming in icy condensation in front of him and his hands carefully tucked in his pockets. While he wasn't precisely thrilled that Yassen had essentially arranged babysitting for him, he had to admit it was more appealing than going back to their empty, dark apartment. Yassen had said he'd be working late due to his and Dima's lunch running long yesterday (or something like that) and to not expect him until the hour Alex usually went to bed. Besides, Alex wasn't in the mood to heat up some of the frozen dinners Yassen had shoved in the freezer and he'd been distinctly promised snacks, so he might as well go along with it.
A handsome blonde man in a slim fitting gray suit sans the jacket had glanced up from the host's counter as Alex stepped into the threshold. "Alex, yes?" he asked. The teenager couldn't help but be impressed- he didn't have so much a hair out of place nor a speck of dust on his suit.
Alex blinked. "That's right. How did you know?"
"My boss, Dimitry Nikulov, showed me picture yesterday," the man explained. He finished scribbling a note on the pad by the phone and snapped his fingers at another employee to come take his place at the front. "Said you might stop by soon. Come."
Trailing after the man, Alex had glanced around a bit curiously. He rather liked the look of this bar, though it was a bit different than Dima's other one at the airport. Lots of exposed wooden beams, but with more industrial light fixtures and plants by all the windows. Much more comfortable than all that dark glass and water features. The host led him deeper into the restaurant, past the dining room tables and chairs into the center of the building where the actual bartop was. Tucked beside the gleaming rows of bottles and along the interior wall closest to the entrance to the kitchen, a handful of dark leather booths had been arranged to give smaller parties a more cozy atmosphere.
The man in the suit snatched a little card off the smallest table in the corner and gestured for Alex to sit. "My name is Maxim. I will be here most days. For now, our bartender, Daniil, will look after you and get you whatever you need. Sound good?"
Alex nodded. "Yes, thank you."
Without another word, Maxim strode off, likely to finish up whatever he'd been doing at the front. He snapped something at a passing waitress, who immediately straightened whatever it was she was carrying. Bit of a sharp personality, Alex supposed. The man didn't seem to necessarily be rude, just finicky.
Identifiable by the square name tag pinned to his lapel, Daniil wandered over just as Alex was deciding which portions of his reading work were safe to ignore. He had neatly trimmed brown hair, swept back and carefully styled in place. Maybe twenty five, dressed all in crisp black. Everyone working here seemed to be fairly good looking and well groomed; Alex was almost positive that had more to do with Maxim than Dima, though.
Daniil set a bowl of pretzels and a glass of Coke on the table beside him. "Here. This should get you started. Let me know if you work up an appetite for something more filling, though. I'll grab you a menu and we can find something you'll like."
"Thank you." Alex gave the guy a considering look. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Well, that's one, but I'll give you another for free." Daniil grinned and crossed his arms. His English reminded Alex a bit of Briar's so he must have learned it somewhere in the western half of the states. Texas, maybe. He also had the habit of easy, sociable smiling that most Russians Alex had met seemed to lack. "Go on. Shoot."
"What has everyone been told about me?" Alex glanced around the room.
Daniil nodded. "Well, we all know your name and what you look like. Mr. Nikulov says you'll be studying here, the same as his kids do every so often, and that we're supposed to make sure you're happy, fed, and that strangers don't bother you. Do strangers often bother you?"
Interesting. So they had specific orders, but not a lot of context. Made sense, when Alex thought about it. "What else?"
"What do you mean?"
Alex gave him a dry look. "You've got other orders about me. Come on. I won't tattle or try to cause trouble for you. I'm just curious."
Daniil gave him a crooked grin, as though a little rankled that this kid was putting him on but not quite certain he should be. He nodded slowly, giving Alex a somewhat shrewd look. "If you ask, there are certain things we can give you and certain things we can't," he allowed, after a careful moment of thought.
"You mean drugs."
"More or less."
Alex rolled his eyes and snorted. "This really is a proper mobster daycare, isn't it? All right. I'll bite. What's on the list?"
"I'm not sure if I should tell you," Daniil responded slowly, glancing around as though considering summoning Maxim for confirmation. Probably worried about getting in trouble or wondering what the line was between indulging a kid's unfortunate drug habit and actively encouraging it.
Alex was confident he could help his new friend find that line. In fact, Alex would say he excelled at testing boundaries. He didn't bother concealing the slightly mischievous glint in his eye. "How about I loudly request each and every drug I can think of, at full volume, and you just say yes or no?" He inhaled sharply, as though preparing to do just that.
Daniil scoffed and dropped onto the seat across from Alex in his booth, obviously a little uneasy but amused nonetheless. "Hush now. You just want to see how far you can push things, don't you?"
"You're a bad drug dealer if your customer has to push your drugs on themselves," Alex informed him, helping himself to a handful of small pretzels. "I'd work on that."
"Or I'm the best. Think about it. Anyway, I'm not a drug dealer, I'm a bartender." Daniil waved a hand in acknowledgement as Alex's pointed look. "Who can get you drugs, yes. I wouldn't say it's most of what I do."
"So you're a hobbyist drug dealer."
"Zho-pa," Daniil groaned, laughing a little. "You are quite the handful."
"What does that mean?" Alex asked, sipping his Coke. "I've been called that a few times before, but no one's explained it. I gather from context that it's rude enough that I shouldn't ask my Russian instructor for the exact definition so…"
Daniil snorted. "I wouldn't recommend it, no. I think it technically translates to arse, but it's used a lot more playfully. Like when Americans call their kids "little shits". It's not always an insult, depending on how you say it. Somehow I'm not surprised you've heard it a lot."
Alex snorted. So that's what Yassen had called him once or twice on the road. He filed that information away. There had to be a way to milk that, somehow. He stirred his fizzy drink with a straw. "So what's on the list?"
"Not much. A little vodka, but not enough to get you drunk. As much cannabis as you want, full stop. No limits, any form, you lucky boy. No opiates, unless it's an emergency. Sparing amounts of party drugs but those require permission from Dima." Daniil gave him a considering look. "Oh, and anyone caught giving you heroin will be murdered by a very scary assassin. That was carefully stressed."
His Coke burned as it filled his nasal cavities and sinuses. He hacked up half of it, taking the cloth napkin Daniil thrust at him in startelement before the man stood and started gently pounding his back.
"Are you alright?" Daniil asked, obviously uneasy as Alex struggled to suck in air.
It was like the protein milkshakes all over again.
The brat surrendered to his laughter again, as soon as he could draw in the oxygen required to do so. He pulled the napkin away from his face with a sharp inhale. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Wrong pipe."
That was. Just. So. Yassen.
"You almost gave me a heart attack," Daniil told him, lips thinning as he glanced back at the bar. There was another woman doing something with the register behind it, who'd only stopped once or twice to help the occasional customer. Obviously, he should be getting back to work, though seeing to Alex was obviously of nebulously higher priority.
Alex managed to still himself and drag in a couple steady breaths. "Can I get your advice on something?"
Daniil put his hand on his hip and gave Alex a skeptical glance. "I'm beginning to think I should not. Go on. Ask anyway."
"I need to find a way to take my weed without getting caught at school." Alex dug into his backpack and pulled out his little bottle to show the bartender. "I have to take it at a certain time every day, but if I get caught with it, it will only cause trouble for my mum. Plus, I don't want the bottle confiscated since it's the only one I have and I'd have to wait to get more. I was thinking of asking for more edible gummies since I've taken them before, but they are pretty obviously packaged and they have a really distinctive smell. At least, I can smell it."
Daniil pursed his lips. "What way worked best for you?"
"How do you mean?"
"Smoking it? Eating it? These little drops? There are lots of choices."
"Oh." Alex glanced at the bottle consideringly. Turned it slowly in his hands. "I like how fast these work, but I feel like the edibles did a better job. They were more potent. I've been using it for some time now so I really need it to be potent."
"Easy, then. I can get you some decent grade cannabutter and you can pick whichever kind of food you want to hide it in. With the least smell or taste, too."
"You mean like pot brownies."
"Sure. Or anything else that uses butter. Cookies. Cakes. Popcorn. Pasta. Tea. Whatever is the least suspicious to have on you, if that's what's important."
Alex perked up. It wasn't a bad idea. Food certainly wasn't allowed in the library, but if he was careful enough with what he chose, he could have his dose at the lunch table with his friends. He'd still have to disappear to some less busy blind spot to take his oxy and halved xanax, but that was a lot easier and a lot less stressful than his drops anyway. Worse case scenario, he had to ditch the handful of loose pills in his pocket or swallow them quickly and swear they were aspirin, whereas with the tincture, if he got caught- or almost caught- he would have to surrender the entire bottle. If he turned a week's weed doses into food, even if he had to toss it to evade detection, it wouldn't be more than one day's worth because he could leave the rest at the flat. "Is it hard to bake into things?"
Daniil twisted his lips, obviously on the fence about something. "Yes and no. You have to be a little careful with the preparation in order not to mess with the THC. It's not that hard, but it will make the area around it smell strongly if you are not careful. How good are you at cooking?"
"I can make ramen noodles and eggs. Well, runny eggs," Alex admitted.
Well, and toasties. And he could follow directions on a box... for the most part. Jack's ten minute meals hadn't been terribly skill-heavy.
Daniil patted him on the shoulder. "I tell you this. How about you get busy with your schoolwork and I will make you some brownies to try. We make them for the restaurant already, so I'll just have the kitchen make a special, separate batch for you with the cannabis added. One time only." He held up one finger to emphasize his point. Alex found it a little condescending, but didn't complain. "Just promise me you won't try them until the weekend comes. They can be much stronger than you expect. Eat little pieces first-maybe a quarter of a brownie. Actually, do an eighth first and work your way up. If you like them, I will give you recipes and instructions next time, but you must study hard while they bake tonight. Deal?"
"Deal." Alex took another handful of pretzels. "Thanks for helping me. I don't know all this stuff on my own."
"You're just lucky I majored in weed in college," Daniil informed him with a sigh. "Okay, technically business administration, but mostly weed. Just don't go overboard. I don't want the trouble or your mum to worry." As if to belay the sternness in his voice, he ruffled Alex's hair before he strode off.
"Yeah, he does that enough anyway," Alex muttered, turning back to his reading.
