#2004.*

      "здесь." Aleks returned both items and reclined further in his seat, brow slightly furrowed, exhaling smoke in tiny circles. Waiting for Adrian to light up before he spoke again. "Fucker got you good, huh?"

      "довести его до еще раз, смею вас."

      "Adrian." Both eyebrows raised, there was no trace of a grin on Aleks' face now. "Come on, man. We don't let this bullshit go, you know that. You're my brother, not that психотическое кусок дерьма. He fucks with one of us and he's fucking with all of us. Вы знаете, что, правильно?"

      "... -- Я знаю."

      "So shut the fuck up and quit worrying, okay? Христос, bro. Смирятся с этим."

      "Fuck you," Adrian muttered, eyes fluttering shut while he pulled the heady smoke into his lungs. He wasn't sure if worrying was the right word. It wasn't quite fear, either, not in the classic sense, but that wasn't to say the impending visit didn't irk him. The idea of spending two or three nights in the same house as Mischa -- even with his brothers there, even with a fucking deadbolt on his door -- was jarring, in every possible way he could name. 

      Six years was a long time, and it wasn't. There was no forgetting the look in his cousin's eyes, the sheer breathless exhilaration, after the knife had cut deep and the blood started to flow. Mischa hadn't panicked -- he'd wanted to touch it. See it up close. Had gone as far as dropping the knife, crouching beside Adrian, attempting to tug aside crimson-soaked fabric. Only when Adrian had lashed out and called for Brody did Mischa back off, although the manic glint in his ice blue gaze had lingered.

      Adrian had awoken to something similar, inches from his face, just months prior. 

      Quit worrying, Aleks said. Boys will be boys -- that was Viktor's favorite line. But it wasn't just that. It wasn't just the standard kind of fuck-up Adrian himself became a seasoned professional at by the age of 12. 

      Mischa was... --

      Well, 'psychotic piece of shit' was close enough. 

      "Let him try," Adrian bit off abruptly, passing the pipe to Aleks again. "Let him fucking try. Я пошлю его домой по частям."

      And that might've been a glimmer of pride in Aleks' half-smile.