Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline

Chapter Three-

Otabek awoke to sunlight streaming through the blinds, and he cursed himself for forgetting to close them again last night. He blamed Yuri for keeping them out past 3am again, which meant he didn't stumble into bed until closed till 4. Never being one who could fall back asleep once awake, he felt around for his phone on the nightstand and groaned when he saw the clock read 6:57AM. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the кухня (kitchen) to make some coffee.

It had been 2 months since he had started working for the Bratva, and it had been nothing like he was expecting. Sure, Viktor had warned him that Yuri was troublesome, but no words could do the 17-year-old hellcat any justice. His wild partying and spitfire attitude kept Otabek constantly working against him, keeping him out of fights, protecting him from the men that couldn't keep their hands off, all too often repeating the dynamic of their first night together, with Otabek carrying the boy home and putting him to bed.

His spoiled upbringing was evident in the way Yuri carried himself on a daily basis. He berated the staff of anywhere; restaurants, high end clothing stores, clubs, even the staff at the penthouse. Otabek didn't even know how many times he had made the maids cry for misplacing something in his room or the chef had to step out for an impromptu smoke break after Yuri's rampages through the kitchen. He wasn't usually one for socializing, but he didn't need to be to determine the staff hated the boy. The boy was just as bad if not worse to Otabek, calling him names, ordering him around, and treating him as a glorified butler. At first, he was put off, but as time went on it was easy to figure out that Yuri was just looking for a reaction, and when he refused to give him one, the blonde just got angrier and angrier. It was actually quite amusing at this point.

But Yuri's attitude and partying were not the worst thing about this job, not by a long shot. It wasn't the fact that he worked long hours without breaks, that he was on call 24 hours today, or the shoebox apartment that was rented for him. No, the part that made it hard for him to sleep at night, the reason this job weighed so heavily on his conscience, was how undeniably, irrevocably, painfully attracted to his charge he was.

From the moment he saw him kick in the Pakhans door, a ferocious blur of blonde hair and long legs, he knew he was in trouble. Otabek had been picturing some wannabe gangster punk kid, not this beautiful angel from hell. He was unable to grasp how it was that he was related to Nikolai who for all intents and purposes resembled a potato, but then he learned saw a picture of Yuri's mother, former prima ballerina to the Russia ballet, and it made more sense. It had taken everything Otabek had in him to keep himself stoic and unreadable during their initial greeting, with Yuri wearing nothing but teeny little shorts and that scandalous top. If he had thought that was the worst of it, he was so wrong. He almost had an actual heart attack when Yuri got in the car that night wearing an outfit designed to send men like him straight to hell. It was not fair to someone who spent the last few years in prison, to be tempted by sinful flesh in such a way

Every single day he had to remind himself all the reasons not to pursue the boy, the two glaringly obvious reasons being that one, he was the Pakhans grandson, and two he was ONLY SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. No teenager should be allowed to look or behave as that little devil does. Every time he asked Otabek to help him into some slinky body chain, or pull off some sexed-up leather boots that should belong to a dominatrix, he had to physically restrain himself from leaving lingering touches on his beautiful unmarred skin. When he danced Otabek had to result to some pretty unpleasant thoughts to keep himself from growing hard in his pants. He'd taken to wearing compression shorts instead of regular boxers, because even with his iron willpower, he couldn't help but get aroused by the gorgeous fairy.

A distant beeping pulled him back from his thoughts and he realized his coffee was done. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts and poured himself a steaming mug, taking a sip immediately and cursing when he burned his tongue. It was happening more and more often lately, his daydreaming about Yuri that is. It seemed every spare moment he had, his mind was filled with the troublemaker, remembering something amusing he did, or imagining different scenarios with him. Sometimes, late at night, Otabek would imagine the two of them together, rolling in the satin sheets of Yuri's canopy bed, the wanton moans the younger would let out, him crying out Otabek's name… He'd stained his own sheet more times than he cared to admit thanks to the child.

It wasn't just he physical attraction that bothered him, he could feel himself starting to get attached to the kid. Despite Yuri's amusing ferociousness, his favorite moments where when the blonde was soft and gentle. Unfortunately, those moments only came when Yuri was too inebriated to function. When he was sleeping, the "Ice Tiger of Russia" was just a clingy, cuddly, sweet little kitten. Otabek knew he was a sick, sick man, but he couldn't help himself from basking in the little affection he received. It had been a long time since he had anyone as beautiful as Yuri in his arms. No scratch that, He had never had anyone as beautiful as Yuri in his arms. He couldn't help but cherish the adorable little sounds he made, the way he grasped at Otabek's suit and tried to pull himself closer, like a small child. When he laid him down on his plush bed and he was always taken aback by just how young and innocent Yuri looked. Despite his racing heart and rushing blood he tried his best to keep his sinful thoughts at bay when he undressed the boy of anything that would be uncomfortable for him to sleep in, never enough to expose him though. No matter how attracted to Yuri he was, Otabek was not the kind of man to take advantage of someone who was unconscious, no matter how much he wanted to. If Yuri was aware that it was him who did this on an almost nightly basis (which he was pretty sure he was, I mean who else could it be), he never said a word about it.

Daring to take another sip he was pleased to find the coffee was at a drinkable temperature. He took the cup to the armchair by the window and opened it for some fresh air, the chilly October air stinging his face a little. He wasn't a man that needed much as evident by his still mostly bare apartment, the armchair being the only bit of furniture he'd bought for the place.

It had been a bit odd to enter his new apartment for the first time in the dark hours of the morning, but he was used to living most of his life in the hours most people were sleeping. Viktor had given him the keys earlier that day after he'd given him a tour of the townhouse, before he'd met Yuri. The building was a typical хрущёвка (Khrushchyovka*), his unit on the 5th and final floor. He was so exhausted that he didn't even bother looking around the place, just found the bed immediately, stripped out of his suit and passed out. Waking up in the late morning the next day, he made sure he had no missed calls before finally sitting up and taking in his surroundings.

It seemed to be a typical one room layout, with a bed, a sofa and coffee table made of cinderblocks and a single piece of wood laid over top. Stretching, he had gotten up and found his small kitchen, which thankfully was stocked with coffee and tea as well as some basic easy food to make, not that Otabek was much of a cook anyways. Next to the kitchen was a tiny, dilapidated bathroom, the tiles cracked and the bathtub stained with rust. He showered and had a small breakfast of eggs, sausage and black coffee before awkwardly putting his only clothing on (the suit) and set out to buy himself some essentials with the money Viktor gave him yesterday as a 'signing bonus'.

That day he spent time getting acquainted with his new neighborhood while picking up some essentials, groceries, regular clothing, etc. When he arrived back at the apartment he went to put his new clothing away and was surprised to see 4 more identical suits to the one he was wearing already hanging in there and another pair of dress shoes.

Over the last 2 months he had slowly accumulated everything he wanted/needed to be happy. He was able to find a beautiful 1978 Honda CB750 with a modified frame and matte black finishes that he'd been working on in his spare time. He bought the armchair and placed it by the window with the view of the street below, he liked to have his coffee there and sometimes in the off nights when Yuri didn't feel like going out, he was content to prop his feet up in the window and read until the early hours of the morning. If there was anything prison was good for, it was expanding his literary knowledge. He was never one for TV anyways, never having owned one growing up.

Most of the time, Otabek was kept pretty busy, learning quickly that Yuri hated being cooped up in the townhome unless he was nursing a bad hangover. Even when he wasn't with Yuri he spent a fair amount of time at the townhome; there was a full gym and sparring studio that he took full advantage up. Plus, they had a huge garage, complete with everything Otabek would need to work on his bike. Over time he had become acquainted with some of the other core staff to the Bratva. There were Nikolai's bodyguards Sergei and Demetri, both men in their late forties, but still great sparring partners, though they favored the shooting range located underground just beneath the townhome. Then there was Mila Babicheva, and her half-brother Georgi Popovich, both unexpectedly clever and ruthless, it seemed they were the ones who were sent to finish a job when things weren't quite working out to the Pakhan's plan. They worked directly under Viktor so Otabek wasn't privy to most of whatever their business was.

He hadn't seen much of the Sovietnik since he first came to St Petersburg, he was sent to Japan for a reason unknown to Otabek, but he assumed it had to do with important business dealings Nikolai had going on. Otabek wasn't new to this kind of business, he didn't ask question, just did as he was told. It had been over a month since he had seen the silverette though and as much as he hated to admit it, he almost missed the company of the eccentric man. He had never met a Russian that smiled as much as he did in his whole life, and he had been living there for almost 10 years at this point.

Finishing his cup, he figured he would take his bike over to the Plisetsky garage and do some work on it since he was up so early. He had bought a set of new spark plugs that he kept meaning to install anyways, just hadn't had the time yet. Grabbing a gym bag, he packed a suit and dress shoes in case by some miracle Yuri woke up earlier than noon and he had to work. It was Sunday after all and he and his idiot friends might want to go to 'brunch'. It seemed all they ever did together was drink, shop, and gossip, he doubted there was any substance involved in their so-called friendship. His stomach growled, but he'd just grab something at the townhome. The head cook Paval was usually preparing breakfast around this time anyways.

It was a nice short drive in the crisp autumn air, entering through the backdoor, he gave a brief nod to Paval, who greeted him warmly and told him to sit, breakfast would be ready soon. Soon Mila joined him, looking like she would snap on the first person to talk to her, Otabek learned she was one that really needed her coffee in the morning. Next came Georgi who completely ignored the sour mood Mila was in and talked both their ears off about how he was certain he had met the love of his life for the third time that month. Georgi was one of those that fell hard if a pretty girl even looked in his direction. He doubted he had even spoken to the latest girl in question, but here he was ready to pick out wedding china.

The three ate their breakfast together at the table in the kitchen and watched a maid come in to collect Nikolai's breakfast for him, most likely being brought to his office. Otabek attempted to wash his own dishes before being literally chased out of the kitchen by the maids and headed to the garage to start on his bike. He'd only been out there for about an hour when he got a surprising text message.

Viktor Nikiforov: Boss man wants to see you, be in his office in 20.

Otabek took one look at his grease covered hands and clothes and cursed audibly. Not bothering to put anything away he grabbed his bag and raced to the gym, taking the worlds quickest shower and dressing in the suit which was a little wrinkled from being folded, but it would have to do. Normally he would hang it up while he was showering to steam the lines out but there was no time today. He made his way down the now familiar hallways and couldn't help but wonder why the Pakhan wanted to see him. He had only seen the man a handful of times since that first day at the townhouse, and all of those had just been briefly in passing. Not being one to let his mind race in the 'what if's, he pushed his emotions down under his cold façade when he reached the grand double door and gave a polite knock.

"Bойти!" (Enter) He heard from within. He entered as instructed and was a little surprised to see Viktor, Mila, and Georgi already in the room. Viktor gave him a sly little smile that did little to ease his discomfort. Had he done something wrong?

"Otabek, my boy, thank you for coming on such short notice." The Pakhan began, hands folded on his desk before him.

"Of course boss." He remained standing.

"I wanted to commend you on a job well done, these last 2 months without incident from Yuri have been a nice change of pace for all of us. I don't know how you have managed to coral that boy, it seemed you were as suited to the job as Viktor thought you'd be." He complimented and Otabek couldn't help his eyes from widening a bit.

"Thank you sir." He answered.

"My staff have informed me of your considerable skill in Systema, where did you lean such skills?" Nikolai asked, beginning to fill his pipe with tobacco.

"Prison." He answered honestly and Mila gave a little giggle. Nikolai looked up momentarily, a small glint in his eyes.

"Of course, silly of me to ask." He chuckled and lit his pipe. "And I've also heard you are as have excellent marksmanship, just as good as I was hoping."

"Glad I could live up to my reputation sir." He answered, making Nikolai's grin grow the slightest bit. It was almost unnerving to see him in such a good mood.

"Well, I think you've proven yourself more than worthy to help Viktor out with a certain situation that needs dealing with." He puffed a couple times and the smell of sweet tobacco filled the air. "Our organization has leant a considerable amount of money to the Lyutov brothers and they seem to think that now that their gambling business is doing well, they do not have to pay us back. The men I sent originally to collect the money were returned in pieces. Now the brothers need to be taught a lesson, and I'd like you to accompany Viktor, Mila, and Georgi on the job." Nikolai finished.

Otabek was conflicted, on one hand, he was grateful to be offered work that he was familiar with. He never particular enjoyed violence, not in the way that some other men did, but he was good at it, and he found peace in familiarity. On the other hand…

"What of Yuri?" He couldn't stop himself from asking. Nikolai waved his hand as if dismissing the question.

"Not to worry, you should be gone only 2 days, I'll have Sergei watch him for the time being." Nikolai finished. Otabek felt a little better, but still felt uneasy leaving the boy in the care of another. He was well aware of the disdain Sergei held for Yuri and didn't necessarily trust him to take care of the boy, though he could never tell Nikolai that. He glanced at Viktor who was giving him a curious look, but he brushed it off. He couldn't read to much into the odd man's looks.

Over the next hour Nikolai and Viktor explained to Mila, Georgi, and Otabek the finer details of the job, and soon they were all headed underground to collect weapons and ammunition. Otabek always felt comfortable enough with the two guns he kept strapped to himself, but Viktor insisted he take a couple more, and maybe some knives. Viktor had a strange love for knives himself, stating he always preferred them over guns, they made too much noise. The siblings on the other hand took enough firepower with them for a small army, seemed like noise was their thing.

At was just after 1pm, so the foursome ate a quick lunch of Pelmeni together before making their way to the garage, Otabek tailing the other three. Right before he followed the others out the door, his arm was grabbed from behind. Acting on instinct, he spun around ready to throw a fist, but was shocked to see that it was none other than Yuri that had stopped him.

"Hey Пидарас (Asshole), where the hell are you going with those Дубиинаs (Idiots)?" He fired at him. The teenager had obviously just woken up, his hair pulled back into a messy bun on top of his head, wearing only an oversized shirt that hung off one of his shoulders and lounge shorts that were barely visible, giving the impression he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Fuck, he was so gorgeous, what Otabek wouldn't give to wake up next to that in the morning…

"On a job." He wasn't sure if he was supposed to give Yuri any information about where he was headed, so he stuck to his normalcy of short answers.

"Says who!?" He yelled, fire in his eyes.

"The Pakhan." Otabek answered, amused at Yuri's fury. He was so cute when he was mad, especially dressed like this.

"What the FUCK! Your job is to be my bodyguard!" Yuri all but screamed at him, stomping his foot like an angry toddler.

"My job is to do what The Pakhan tells me to." He replied. Yuri didn't seem to have an answer for that. If Otabek looked closely, behind the display of anger, their was a look of hurt in Yuri's eyes. Surely it wasn't because Otabek was leaving was it?

"I'll only be gone for 2 days." Otabek spoke again, hoping maybe that would ease the pain in the boy's eyes. Yuri frown just intensified, and he looked away, tucking a stray piece of hair that had fallen loose behind his ear. When it was evident Yuri wasn't going to say anything more, Otabek sighed and turned around, reaching for the door handle when he felt Yuri grab his arm again, this time much softer.

Otabek turned his head over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow at the kid. Yuri's face was a dusted with a pretty pink and he kept his eyes down as he spoke.

"Just, be safe okay?" Yuri said in what was probably the softest voice he had ever heard from him. His heart did a little flip at the gesture and he lightly covered Yuri's hand with his own and gave a quick squeeze.

"I will." Was all he said before removing the boy's hand from his arm, leaving Yuri standing alone in the hall.