Vladlena "Lena" Orlov

“Lena.” He aches, at the mere idea. “Lena don’t fuckin’ do that. It’s…it’s never been serious with those girls and you know it.” Trick points out, or trying to. “It’s different when it’s Craig and you…it’s serious and maybe that hurts…”

“I said sorry. I meant it. I promise to try and be better about you two in the future.” Trick forces out, fangs dropping and skin feeling tight. She’s gliding claws across still bleeding wounds; the truth he doesn’t want to share, because it will do nothing but ruin them. He loves her. Has loved her, but he’s a fucking coward and now she’s with Craig and he has no right to drop this on her.

That throws him, enough to make him stumble his next few steps towards her. Bringing him closer than he wanted; all he can scent is her latent anger and hurt, and it’s a strain not to wrap himself around her. 

“You don’t. I told you. I’m a prick…but Lena, love you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m a fuckin’ prick.” He says, shouts really and gets a few dirty looks for it but he doesn’t care. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot and I’m sorry alright.”

Trick watches her go, hurt and guilty at the same time, wanting to follow but also very aware that he made her go. He pushed and acted like a prat to get a reaction. He reaped what he sowed. “Fuck.” He says to himself, throwing a handful of bills on the table and chasing her down. “Lena.” He calls out, knowing better than to touch her.

Trick might love Lena, but he’s never wilted under her anger and he doesn’t plan to start now. “You are really confused?” He glares back, “No one forced me? My two best and only friends are suddenly lip locking over fuckin’ brunch. It’s a weird thing no matter who we are, let alone it being…well who you are. Who he is.” Trick waves his hand, flourishing it across their seats. “Don’t fuckin’ play games, with me. Shit. You and I both know, that Craig is two kicks in the head away from poppin’ the question to the lady who bags his groceries because she’s nice to him. He’s always been a fuckin’ bleeding heart. You on the other hand…” He makes a click with his tongue, “I just…I don’t get it and I don’t want to, but give me a fuckin’ break to get used to having a front row seat.”

Trick snorts, dismissive because what a load of shit that line is. Lena isn’t some dull, hero-blinded girl. She knows Craig as much as he does, and it’s never been a secret the big idiot was a clinging teddy bear. “Yeah okay.” He snarks, unable to help himself. 

Trick hums, attempting to both answer and not show how much he’s failing to keep all of this above board. What he really wants is to question her, why Craig of all people? Why now? Why when they both know that Craig was a puppy and she was a damn mountain lion. Beyond his own jealous nature and hurt, it was just confusing. “You really expected, Craig, the guy we compare to golden retrievers, wasn’t going to be overly affectionate?” 

“You know you didn’t have to invite me to watch you make out, right?” He snaps back. Fangs grazing his tongue as he does, it’s way too revealing of his anger. Of emotions he isn’t suppose to have but it’s fucking hard. Watching Craig once again, be the hero. The boy wonder. It never stung, Trick never wanted to be a hero in anyone’s eyes…but he wants her.

“Sorry.” Trick tacks on, a second too late. Shoving his blunt into his plate and attempting to appear distracted by the menu. Even if they both know he has already ordered. “It’s just. Ya know. Weird.”

“Yeah, I know.” She bites back, stinging from his tone and doing her best not to show it. “But it’s not like I expected him to act like that.” Lena wanted things to be normal. No...no she wanted them to be different...but in all these years it never had been so she just didn’t care anymore. Craig was a good guy, why not make him happy. 

“I don’t, but when the hell has that ever stopped him?” Trick replies, face hidden by a thick layer of smoke. He’s a fuckin’ Victorian factory chimney, that’s the level of fumes he’s putting out. It’s all on purpose, and not to just annoy the fuck outta the people sitting next to them. It’s to his anger. 

-it’s foolish, impotent anger, and he has absolute no right to it but it’s there never the less, a vicious little prick in his dead heart. 

Craig is an idiot, but he’s a good lad and his best friend. There’s no reason Trick should want to rip his arm off and beat him with it.

but he does, and it’s all because of who it touches.

Trick risks a glance at Lena, and notes her distraction but does not comment on it. Oh he rages, but he also mourns. It’s not his right. He might have had a crush of the golden hair goddess since day one, but he’s also dumbly never made a move, and that’s on him. Craig did, and she accepted and so he needs to get his panties untwisted and fucking accept it too. 

Craig laughs, good natured and unaware of much else other than his happiness at being around his two favourite people. “C’mon man, I’m just excited!” Lena looks out towards the back of the bar, keeping her eyes anywhere else so she doesn’t explode. “And it was so lucky.”

“Well you’re nothing if not lucky.” Lena knows her tone is harsh. It almost always is but when she glances at him she can see it’s hurt this time. “Sor-” Her apology is cut off by his phone.

“Don’t worry, babe. But I’ve gotta go. Duty call.” When he leans in now he kisses her lips, far too deeply for the setting, and she wonders if he can tell that she’s thinking about kissing someone else. “See you both later, don’t do anything stupid!” And with that he’s out the door.

Lena sits at the bar in between Craig and Trick. It’s not a new thing, except now Craig keeps his arm around her waist and occasionally leans down to kiss her hair while she’s talking. He’s an exceptionally affectionate creature, and she is not. Well...she doesn’t know if that’s actually true, she’s just not with him and it’s because there’s a little ball of acidic guilt that churns away in her stomach. Because she knows this dating thing they’re doing is her way of trying to get over someone. Someone sitting close enough that their knees have knocked together a few times and somehow that’s felt more intimate than the palm pressed tight against her waist.

“So I was sure this place would be completely booked,” Craig recounts their first date, pausing only for a sip of his beer, “it’s brand new and everything. But everyone seems to love it so I had to try. And then it turned out I didn’t have to try hard at all. I’d saved the head chefs daughter last week. Free food at the hottest spot in town. Wasn’t it great, babe?”