Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2023 8:56 am Post subject: Spisi
It had been a trying time, in the days that passed before Sasha was safely returned to the States. Spider was someone who while stern and often serious, was also riddled with crippling anxiety. He functioned purely as a weapon for Riley for many years, just as a child. By the time he was an adult, he was still that weapon, but one with complicated and unregulated emotions. If he did everything right and did everything without being asked, he would never have to be reprimanded and he would never have to say thank you. This was doable enough until recently, until he lost Sasha in a foreign country in the fallout from a mafia meeting gone south. While the Nikitin’s were mostly an oligarchy, the line of succession did follow down a straight line; from Riley, to Adrik, and down to Sasha. There couldn’t be a more important person to lose, and yet Spider did. Not to mention, the night before he lost Sasha, he got drunk and fell into bed with Stasi. While he did not regret it in the slightest, it goes without saying, you’re not supposed to sleep with your bosses granddaughter. So Spider could barely lift his leg, he was so deeply in trouble. It was more trouble he had ever been in and he couldn’t fathom what his punishment was going to be. Most people were loyal to the Nikitn’s, so there were few betrayals and punishments to speak of in their workplace. But no one Spider knew had messed up so colossally.
When Spider and company had arrived in America initially without Sasha in tow, Ania had already properly chewed Spider a new ass. But they both knew that wouldn’t be the end of it by a long shot. Spider had been in their line work longer than Sasha had been alive, in Ania’s opinion, he should know better. This, would be considered an amateur mistake, and they would’ve never given this type of job to an amateur. Knowing this was Ania’s opinion, even without her saying it, he knew it would be Riley’s opinion too. One that he feared even more so than Ania’s, who’s opinion was often scathing and without mercy. Spider had normally been on Riley’s good side. He impressed her since she found him as a boy, and he did his best to not be a burden or overstay his welcome. As a child, he always waited for his time with Riley to run out; that one day she was discharge him from his service because he was no longer as good a shot, or as fast a runner, or as tough a brawler. Because of this, Spider always pushed himself harder, always did more. He put himself constantly with the gentry of Riley’s personal guards, he was always wherever Ace and Klondike were, offering expertise and input like a seasoned veteran. Waiting outside of Riley’s personal office in her home, felt like death sentence. He had never waited outside the doors, he was always on the other side; standing behind Ania or with the other guards. The feeling was drastically foreign and caused him to nervously turn the gold ring on his index finger in repeating circles. Despite his anxiety, he still sat up upright; shoulders back and spine straight. He still dressed appropriately, a fitted suit; dry cleaned and pressed. It was black in color, he thought he should be dressed for his funeral. He hoped that Riley wouldn’t have him cremated, his mother wouldn’t have liked that. In Russian orthodox mourners tradition, he would want to be buried. At least he would see his parents on the other side.
Ania opened the door to the office then, if Riley was the judge, then Ania was his executioner. That being said, he was glad it wouldn’t be Vania; he liked keeping as many teeth possible even if he wouldn’t be smiling in his casket. But it made sense it would be Ania, he was her dog to put down in the end. She looked serious and unimpressed, which was just how she always looked, especially when looking at him. Even though they were friends, Ania never let up from a minute, that anyone could be safe from her icy exterior. It was her norm to bully and tease him, her way of being friendly was to be unkind and Spider felt the bristly singe of her affection constantly. He was as used to her persecution as he was exhausted by it, but still endeared to it somehow. Spider was supposed to be a big brother, but never got the chance. But he often felt like, being friends with Ania was what it would be like to have a sister who hated you. She did not smile when she saw him, she merely nodded toward the room; a gesture that called him to his feet. If he were to die today, he shall walk willfully to the guillotine.
Ania widened the door for him to enter and shut it behind them. She leaned sort of lazily against the door after having shut it. Spider only spared her a quick glance over his shoulder, he tried to read her body language but didn’t afford himself the time before dropping on a knee and bowing his head to Riley. She sat at her desk, powerful looking in her fanciful parlor chair. It was red in color, a deep wine colored red, the threads of it glistened like a string of little rubies when the light hit it from the right angles. It had a sturdy wood frame, and it’s legs curled into wide, clawed paws. The back of the chair went up high and the wood frame had a tiger carved into it’s crest, the tigers jaws open and teeth bared. While Riley was a wolf in the most literal sense, her alliance to the Bratva superseded that of her biological existence. The tiger was a nod to that and her time in the gulag; Riley was apart of the Brotherhood first, before anything else.
“Атаманша.” He addressed her simply.
Spider couldn’t see her face, since his own was cast down; eyes cemented to the rug underfoot. Though he couldn’t see her, Riley’s own expression was somewhat soft; or at least he softened when he dropped onto his knee before her. She had known Spider since he was young, still a little boy. It was a long time to watch him grow up and become his own person, she knew how to read him as well as any of her kids. She knew he walked in here today under the guise it would be the last time he walked anywhere; it made her a little sad that he could think her so cruel that she could kill a boy she practically raised. But if it were anyone else, they absolutely should expect that; Riley had a ruthless reputation, even though she was mostly retired. But dropped onto his knee with his head bowed, Riley only saw the little nine year old boy who had appeared before her all those years ago. He was bloodied though little of it was his own, his eyes were wide and wet with the horror of what he’d done, though no tears ever spilled. He looked tired, his eyes deeply bruised from not sleeping and his body looked weak; starved from neglect, it trembled under her gaze. He expected her to kill him then, and he expected it now.
“Stand up.” She said quickly. Spider obliged and looked forward, but past Riley rather than at her.
“Do you know why I call you, Spider?” Riley asked.
Spider had never asked, he was thankful for it when he was little. It sounded a lot cooler than the other guards handpicked names. When you join the Bratva, historically, you let go of your old life, the one you had before The Brotherhood. Whatever family you had, you would no longer be able to see or speak to again. Whatever job or house you had, would no longer be yours. The person you were before, effectively dies. Since Spider’s family was dead, and he was a child with no job or house, he fit the qualifications easily. A new life means a new name, these names are usually singular with no middle or surname, undocumented and untraceable. Of course it wasn’t lost on Spider that the upper guard were all named for playing cards, and the lower after games of solitaire. But he never wondered about the significance of each name, he didn’t originally assume there was a reason.
He gave a little shake of his head. “No.”
“Because in Spider solitaire, there are eight foundations piles that must be fulfilled to win the game. When I took you in, you were my lucky number eight, right?” Riley asked but it wasn’t a question meant to actually be answered. Still, Spider nodded.
He recalled the members of the guard at the time he joined Riley’s forces. Ace, of course, Riley’s number one and second in command. Until her children began working in the family business, Ace was ordained to make decisions in Riley’s stead. He was strong and level headed, his loyalty was unwavering; he’d been with Riley since the very beginning. Spider always remembers him from that time, with thick blond curls that reminded him of Shirley Temple, though he would never have said that then. Still just a boy when he joined, Spired would sneakily wear Ace’s oversized coat at night, while practicing shooting. He felt the sag of the heavy coat on his narrow shoulders, he imagined growing big enough to fill it. Diamond was a woman who was nearly as tall as Ace. She was muscular and always wore her hair back in a tight braid and stared knowingly through narrowed eyes. One time, Spider watched her hang a man dead with piano wire; it wasn’t even the most brutal thing he’d seen her do. Club and Spade were unscrupulous twins from Ireland, they were originally freelancers for Riley. But they’re own wet work had been halted by a rival mob family, thus they began working for Riley full time. The twins had dark hair that they preferred to keep concealed under hats, no matter how hot it was. He also remembered that they also to shoot with their own guns; Steyr AUG automatic rifles. In the mafia, it was not irregular to shoot with and use all kinds of guns, especially since they were in the arms dealing business. But the twins were particular, and Spider suspected there was a story as to why they preferred them, but he never heard it himself. Hearts was hard for Spider to remember, Hearts didn’t seem to like kids and resented working with one. Even if that kid killed eleven people, mind you. Spider resented Hearts back a little bit, he was one person that he could not impress with murder and Spider didn’t have any other skills to show for. Spider recalled that Hearts was pink in color with a deeply freckled face, he supposed he spent a lot of time in the sun. Ace mentioned once in passing that he used to work in agriculture, in a field.
Canfield was from England and a little bit younger than the others, not as young as Spider of course. But Spider remembered gleaming at him as an older brother, albeit from a distance, he would never be that vulnerable up close. He was sweet, talkative and charismatic. His hair was a mousy brown that he kept slicked back, and green eyes that matched Spiders; something else that made him kin them as brothers in his mind. Canfield was a sharp dresser, much like Spider is today. He wore layers of chained necklaces and a ring on each finger, just like Spider does now. The ring on his left thumb actually belonged to Canfield originally. There was Klondike who Spider knew well, since he was charged with looking after the matching twin to Ania, Vania. He was about as tall as Ace but seemingly a little older, though Spider couldn’t be for sure. As much as he knew about Klondike from spending so much time together, he couldn’t name that much about him as a personal fact. Klondike loved to play games and laugh, he didn’t seem to take much seriously which seemed out of character for this line of work but it did match Vania’s own spirit nicely. Spider did hear a rumor once that Klondike had a family, before he joined and had that same family still. While it seems common place now that people would grow and have families, it was taboo then. For whatever reason if true, Riley pardoned him and shares his secret.
Then were was Spider, though he hardly completed the set. Most of those people who preceded his joining, were now dead. There were other members now, but only Ace and Klondike remained from the original group that Spider joined.
“There’s no longer eight legs.” Spider said then, almost like he was completing a thought aloud.
“Right.” Riley said then, leaning back in her chair. She rested her elbow on the arm of it and rested her cheek against her knuckles as she looked to Spider, expecting that he would complete her own thought. When he didn’t, she did it for him. “I don’t want to lose more people, I didn’t want to lose the others, and I don’t want to lose you. My house of cards is strong, because you all make it strong.”
Spider didn’t say anything, mostly because he didn’t know where this was going. Was he not going to die today?
“I want you to see retirement, Spider. I expected too much of you, from a young age even. For which I am sorry, and regret. I never gave you the opportunity to be a child.” She began explaining.
“I’m not a child, I haven’t been one in a long time.” Spider replied, his brows knit in mild confusion. Where was this going?
“No, and you’ll never be one again. But, I think it’s been a long time coming, that you are relieved of some of your responsibilities.” Riley said then, she said this slowly, as if she were issuing bad news. And to Spider, she absolutely was. Worse than being killed, it sounded like he was being fired.
Spider began internally spiraling. He had plenty of money to sit on, he never spent any of it; it was all in savings. But all he ever did was follow the Nikitin’s around, stay vigilant, keep them safe, kill whoever necessary. He didn’t know how to do anything else, he didn’t have a high school diploma or social security card; his shipping container home didn’t have an address, he couldn’t even put a street address on a job application. What was he going to even try to list as past work experience? What would he even write for a surname, he didn’t have one anymore. Riley could see Spider dissociating in front of her, she leaned forward in her chair and waved a hand at him.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, it’s not that serious. I’m just assigning you to someone different, less responsibilities. That is all.” Riley explained, trying to reassure Spider as she was watching him melt before her.
He made a face, trying hard to physically reel himself back in. That was still a foreign notion, he’d been with Ania forever. As unpleasant as she could be, she was his friend. He knew all her moves, her routes and routines. They had a lifetime of finding a routine together, Spider was having a hard time swallowing the idea of doing it all over again with someone else. This was supposed to be less responsibility, less stressful, but Spider did not feel this in the slightest.
“Who?” He asked then.
“Stasi.” Ania answered from her place behind him.
He swiveled his head around to face her then. He hadn’t told her about the night he spent buried inside her niece, but maybe Stasi did? Did they know?
“She’s still getting her footing in the business, and she doesn’t have a lot of day to day affairs to attend to. It should be fairly low stakes as long as you don’t annoy her anymore than you annoyed me.” Ania explained then.
Stasi’s personal history with Spider was brief, but she had known of him in the way she knew of all her family associates for nearly her whole life. The first time she could remember paying him any mind, she was just a little girl and he was still a young man.
It was Christmas and the party her babushka and dedushka hosted yearly had long since ended and it was mostly only immediate family who lingered. She was perched on the couch, nursing a hot chocolate while her babushka fawned over her. While Riley was known in the mob underworld as a ruthless killer, to Stasi and all of her cousins she was just babushka in moments like this. A young man with a heavily scarred face approached them and got down on one knee in greeting. He and her babushka shared holiday niceties and though Riley certainly had a more lax air about her as they spoke, the man looked rife with anxiety with tightly pinched brows and tense jaw. He looked fearful that he might say something wrong, though the words he and Stasi’s babushka shared were just as trivial as any other conversation that had been at the party that evening.
Before he could fold any further under his self-induced anxiety, Mityr approached him from behind and clapped his hands on the man’s shoulders and he was pulled to his feet. Stasi’s dedushka was ever jovial and had a grin that was infectious and apparently the scarred man was no exempt as he offered a small smile of his own back at the Nikitin patriarch before he was guided away towards the Christmas tree.
“Babushka, who was that?” Stasi asked, still watching as her dedushka picked up a present from under the tree and handed it to the man.
“Hm? That’s Spider. He’s worked for me since he was as little as you, so we have to be good to him, okay?” Riley explained.
In the years after that, Stasi had seen Spider here and there, mostly in passing. He was almost always seen shadowing her aunt Ania and, despite what Riley said, she was NOT very good to him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to take her jabs and insults in stride, with little more than the utterance of acknowledgement. Stasi had never thought him ugly, not in the way she heard the other people who worked for her family seemed to think him with his scarred face and gray head of hair, but as she grew older and matured into a young woman she actually thought him quite handsome. She liked his high arched nose and strong jaw, she even liked his silver hair, but she did find fault with him elsewhere: his stern inflexibility.
She recalled all the times she was spending time with her auntie Ania and him trying to pry her away for business sake. Ania liked to warn him it was bold to tell her what to do, Stasi just thought it was annoying. Stasi’s personally annoyance with Spider only grew when her aunt sent him with her and her cousin Sasha on a trip to Japan.
The trip was for business of course. The yakuza had long been trying to broker an arms deal with the Nikitin family and, after deliberation within the family that Stasi was hardly privy to, they were finally going to get what they wanted. Sasha, her cousin, was to take an envoy to establish the deal with the yakuza, Stasi included. He had long been established as the next “heir to the throne” so to speak, just like his father, and was expected to head deals like this, just like uncle Adrik. Initially, it was just going to be Sasha, Stasi, and several Nikitin foot soldiers, but after some deliberation, the Nikitin duo’s aunt thought it would be in everyone’s best interest to send someone who had more experience than the average foot soldier for extra security by the way of Spider.
And god…Spider had sucked all the joy out of the trip, right out of the gate.
Literally.
Despite having plenty of time before the flight, he refused to let their group even stop for coffee, insisting that there was coffee on the flight. When they got to Japan, Stasi had hoped to stay at a fun themed hotel, maybe even a fancy inn like she’d seen on TV, instead, Spider picked out an all too practical hotel that was neither here nor there. Stasi had been eager to go out and explore, maybe even take a trip to Tokyo via bullet train on one day of their stay, but Spider shot down that idea almost immediately, insisting it was safer to stay out and not cause waves.
What Spider couldn’t turn down, however, was a chance to sample the night life as their yakuza hosts offered them music, alcohol, and dancing at one of their clubs, all gratis.
And what Stasi didn’t expect was for Spider to not only accept this morsel of a good time, but to actively participate.
She managed to her Spider on the dance floor where they actually managed to stay for hours. They laughed with each other and drank whatever passed by or whatever was sent their way until their dancing became less and less…inhibited.
While their initial dancing wasn’t exactly as chaste as Stasi’s middle school dances at Catholic school, they eventually devolved into something downright sinful as their bodies pressed together, hips undulating with the very clear desire for something more. Spider’s hands, which had been very securely attached to Stasi’s waist, had drifted further and further down until he palmed at her, occasionally slipping his fingers under the hem of her skirt. Stasi returned in kind as she untucked the back of his shirt and ran her nails over the small of Spider’s back, even dipping her hand into the back of his pants and giving him the occasional squeeze.
If any of the Nikitin foot soldiers saw them, no one acknowledged it, and if anyone saw them stumbling out of the nightclub together or crashing into Stasi’s room back at the hotel, no one had said a thing to any of the family.
Stasi couldn’t remember much from their night together, but she did remember that she had liked it. She had liked it a lot actually and if the hickies spotting her like a leopard were any indication, she thought Spider did too.
They didn’t have any time to unpack their thoughts, however, as Sasha “selfishly” decided to go missing after things at the yakuza meeting went sideways, forcing the Nikitins to all flee the country and report home. Even when Sasha decided to reappear, calling from JFK for a ride (like a “cavalier little shit” as Stasi put it), they didn’t have time to talk about it as the family had to meet to discuss what had happened and had to decide “punishment” for Spider.
Stasi had been fairly confident that her babushka’s judgment wouldn’t be harsh, she had been the one to tell her they needed to treat Spider kindly after all, but she didn’t expect him to get a simple slap on the wrist.
Moreover, she didn’t think she would be the slap.
To be honest, she wasn’t mad when her aunt and babushka told her that Spider would be her personal guard going forward. I’m fact, she was as pleased as she was surprised. She had admittedly not been sweet on Spider before, but after their night in Japan, she certainly felt different.
She had been sitting outside the meeting room as her babushka had told her before the sit down, and as soon as the news was delivered down to Spider, she let herself in, swinging the doors open with a cheeky grin.
“Why are you groveling, Spider? It isn’t so bad.” She teased with a laugh. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Spider was of course grateful this wasn’t a punishment, but this did feel a lot more complicated. In Japan, a majority of Spider’s interaction with Stasi, was denying her pleasures. That is, until it wasn't and his priorities shifted to the exact opposite. The phantom memory of his palms atop her thighs and his face buried into the cleave between her legs, crept into his mind. The haunting memory was slow in its ascent to the surface, and then it was passionate and eager; just like he was that night. The threat of the memory was enough to dampen his brow with a light sweat and his ears burn pink. Spider had never considered Stasi in that way before, of course there was the enormous age gap. Besides that, he thought she was a spoiled and entitled girl with little regard for anyone else. Though, to be fair, Spider felt that way about a lot of the Nikitin’s, it was true enough that it wasn’t really an offense, just a fact. They killed for it, the rich pedigree facilitated and maintained by blood and heavy artillery.
He even thought it about Mityr, who besides having nothing to do with blood and guns, also loved Spider dearly. It was a little bit different though, because Spider’s grievances stemmed from being envious of Mityr. When he was young, Spider saw him and Mityr’s similarities on paper. They both were children of immigrants to parents who met a tragic end, even if it was true for Riley too; it felt different between he and Mityr. His foster father was humble, and always grateful, it was endearing. But when Spider tried to compare how they carved out their places in the world, Spider’s place burned up in kerosene, Mityr’s was carved marble from Michelangelo. His strengths lied within his beauty; with his wavy and russet colored hair always reminded Spired for a sunset, and his steely blue eyes, that of the Black Sea. His face was a defined oval shape, with a pronounced jaw that complemented the delicate point of his chin. Mityr was deeply handsome, profoundly handsome; even worse he was born that way. Spider wondered if Mityr was already so beautiful, how much more beautiful his family must’ve been? When Spider was young and briefly believed in made up things, he guessed Mityr must’ve been a demigod, slumming it amongst mortals, offering alms and good graces to ugly and temporary beings. Which was ironic, since Spider’s birth name was Амвро́сий, Amvrosy. Not like Ambrosia, but like the Greek derivative, Ambrosios. Belongs to “Immortals,” or God. Then there was Spider, his face and body badly scarred; if he had been beautiful before, he couldn’t remember it anymore. In the shade of Mityr’s unwavering affections, Spider felt like his ugly, little pet.
When you’re on fire, it is a slow death but you stop feeling pain quickly. Nerve endings being burned away until you feel nothing at all. Spider remembered the pain in his throat and lungs being more agonizing than his burning flesh. He remembered that when he did breathe in, even under the guise of thick smoke, the smell still reached him. It was probably only two minutes in actuality, before Spider passed out from shock and smoke inhalation, but it felt like an eternity. When he awoke in the hospital, most were very careful to not show him a mirror. But Spider was not naive to the consequence of what he had survived. Half of his face and almost half of his body was covered in thinly veiled bandages. This level of scarring needed air to breathe, in order to heal. If the wound had heavy dressing, it would smother the affected area and it would fester. There were enough reflective surfaces in a hospital to see what he needed to see. On a metal serving tray, he could see clearly on its warped surface; he was a beast.
As an adult, he could take pride in what appearance he had maintained. Badly damaged, but still refined. He could stand for a picture, he could look in the mirror to shave his face. But the reflection would always be that of a boy with a half bandaged face. Hot, wet flesh, throbbing under the bandages, blotting with viscous blood.
He’d undergone many skin grafts to put him back together again, in the most vague sense. The affected areas were always a thin and pink, they tore easily in the beginning. His right eyebrow and eyelashes were gone, the hair on his head had almost completely burned away. Nurses shaved it for him eventually. Now the skin was still plainly discolored, but not so fragile. He had full mobility, his hair grew back too for the most part. His eyebrow remained patchy, and lighter than the rest of his hair. It wouldn’t matter though, he would go premature grey before he could vote.
Anything he could dislike about the Nikitin’s was packaged neatly in their prima ballerina, Ania. While he wouldn’t say she was as beautiful as Mityr, she did resemble him with her reddish hair and oval face. But from Riley, she inherited her dark eyes and her high horse. Per Nikitin tradition, in entitlement and privilege, she was evenly matched. But following her endlessly for most of her life, allowed to see secret moments of weakness, and humility. In the shadow of her armor, was something more human. In those human moments, they could foster a friendship. That was something else that felt immediately concerning, as the seconds ticked and he processed each coming moment. He’d followed Ania around his whole life basically, he knew her routine and day to day dealings very well. Her responsibilities and her expectations were also his, what would they be now?
Whether he thought it good or bad, this change was dizzying; radical. You could say Spider didn’t cope well with change.
Ania could see Spider continuing to dissolve internally. She could never make sense of his anxieties, especially in their line of work. But she never paid it much mind or with consideration. She strode from her place at the door and gave him a little slap on the back of his head.
“Relax. You’re probably play on your phone all day or something. Like Klondike. It’s supposed to be easy.” She lectured him.
“He doesn’t mean to be rude, he’s just a bit of a mess sometimes.” Riley sighed, apologizing to her granddaughter on Spider’s behalf. “Ania is right. This is supposed to be easy. Effective today, you are discharged from your service to Ania, you are now on Stasi’s service. Same hours you’ve always worked, subject to change based on Stasi’s dealings. You found your stride with Ania, you will find it with Stasi too.” Riley tried to reassure Spider.
He did seem better, more color in his complexion. The only human in a room full of werewolves, he was sure they could hear how fast his heart was beating and hear that it’s finding it’s normal rhythm again. He turned to face Stasi then, per their customs, Spider dropped onto his knee and bowed his head to her.
Stasi watched Spider drop onto one knee and had the briefest flash of a memory of Spider on his knees that night they shared and her hips distinctly hovering over his lips.
Decidedly, she liked him on his knees.
“You can stand up. As fun as it is to see you on your knees, it’s not necessary.” Stasi joked with a suggestive quirk of her brows. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Spider kept his head bowed a moment to conceal any evidence of him being flustered by the remark, but his ears still burned. It didn’t seem that Ania noticed though, before Spider could rise to his feet on his own, she knocked him over with her boot. He fumbled and caught himself, palm stabilizing him on the floor. Spider’s ears lost their flush as he looked up at Ania with an expression of annoyance. Something else that was comforting about his position with Ania, all those years together, even though she was his boss; he found it within himself to be annoyed with her. They were comfortable with each other. He supposed Stasi wouldn’t grant him that comfort, he already knew from a past experience, she enjoyed watching him squirm.
“Go on, then. Go away.” Ania dismissed him, passively, like he was a dog.
Spider still looked annoyed, possibly more so. Any lingering shyness about now belonging to Stasi, dissolved like sugar under Ania’s thundering rain cloud.
Riley cleared her throat then, which caused Ania to sort of straighten up and step back from Spider.
“You’re both excused.” Riley dismissed the twosome properly, an added nod of respect. This was a kindness toward Spider, but expected toward Stasi. “Remember, Spider. This will be easy.” Riley reassured, like a doting mother dropping off a nervous child for their first day of school. But like Spider always reminded himself, Riley was not his mother.
He offered her a bow in return before leading their departure, dutifully holding the door open for Stasi.
“Actually-remember that Anastasia is a princess. I advise you to treat her like one, always.” Ania warned him at the door.
Even though Spider was charged with guarding Ania, it was not ever lost on him that she did not really need it. It did not matter if his height and muscle mass feigned a physical advantage over her, he had every reason to be threatened. Spider bristled but did not reply beyond a bow of acknowledgment. If Ania didn’t know about his indiscretion, she didn’t make it convincing.
It wasn’t mob protocol, but Stasi didn’t care much for the rigidity of mob rules as she pranced over to her babushka. She took Riley’s hands on her own and stretched to kiss her cheek with a sort of tenderness Stasi only reserved for her parents and grandparents.
“I will see you for Sunday dinner, Babushka. Tell Dedushka that I love him and to not forget to ask the cook to make blini for one of the desserts for Papa.” Stasi said, sounding more like a young girl speaking with her grandmother rather than a lethal mob princess speaking to a ruthless mob boss.
She let go of Riley’s hands and went to Ania next. She took her aunt’s hands and pecked a kiss to her cheek as well.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.” She grinned cheekily before going to the door.
She continued to grin as she reached up and pat at Spider’s cheek in passing.
“Come on, we have things to discuss.” She told him. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Riley was every bit the doting grandmother, Stasi framed her to be. It was not so unnatural, to watch the younger Nikitin generations, pepper Riley with their praise and affections. It was something she was happy to return in kind; her grandchildren were the most precious thing to her. She wasn’t as cuddly with her own children, she was even harder on the twin girls. Ania and Vania were every bit, the icy and violent women she molded them to be. Ania offered a nod of acknowledgment to the mafia princess. She smiled so rarely, Spider could only recognize it in the shape of her mouth; a subtle twitch at its corners. It was not even a smile in the most vague of ways, but she was smiling at her niece as she departed.
Spider could only wait with bated breath, for what Stasi had in mind. Nonetheless, he followed her out of Riley’s office, a half a step behind, keeping a careful eye on her as they walked. Ania’s normal protocol for Spider, was to refrain from speaking unless spoken to. He obliged this most of the time. But Stasi had already said they had things to discuss; he was probably going to be doing more speaking today than he ever did before.
“What are your plans, авторите́т?” Spider asked, feigning ignorance that Stasi had something work related to discuss versus the topic of Japan.
“Fiiirst of all,” Stasi twirled around to face Spider, reaching up to hook a finger in the collar of his shirt, “you can just keep calling me Stasi. I don’t need you to call me anything formal. Second,” she paused as something glinted in her eye and a cheeky grin curled her mouth, “don’t you think you and I have something to discuss?” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
In all his time serving the Nikitin’s, not even Ania had spun on him like this. It didn’t matter what kind of training or combat expertise he had, he could still be surprised and he was wholly that. He stopped in his tracks and lifted his chin, as she grabbed him by his collar. Her mischievous grin was equally disarming, and it caused his pale ears to pink again.
Spider cleared his throat and did his best to avert his gaze.
“You want to talk about that here, Stasi?” He questioned the, acknowledging her by her preferred name.
Stasi let out a thoughtful hum and released Spider’s collar. She ran her hand over his chest, smoothing the fabric under her palm, before spinning back around.
“Maybe here isn’t the best. Perhaps over lunch? Do you like Chinese?” Stasi asked, already walking again. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Spider let out a little exhale before picking up his feet and walking after her. He didn’t normally eat meals with] the Nikitin’s, none of their guard did. It wasn’t what they were there for, and it would be extra inconvenient if there was a mafia shootout and the muscle is busy indulging in raviolis. But he also didn’t normally drink and fall into bed with any of them either.
“If that’s what you’d like.” He replied, obediently.
“I think I’d like a nice mushu pork, maybe some sesame chicken.” Stasi nodded. “There’s a place not far from here, can you call a car?” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Spider nodded before pulling out his phone to do as instructed. Calling a car was on the short list of responsibilities for the personal guards, there was always a driver on speed dial and a car ready to be called at any moment.
“Should be around front in approximately two minutes.” Spider said after a brief exchange on his phone.
“Excellent.” Stasi chirped as she carried on her way.
((FF))
After a brief drive to an adjacent neighborhood, Stasi and Spider were dropped off at a bustling Chinese restaurant. The hostess working immediately took note of the way the twosome carried themselves with and promptly called for one of the private rooms typically reserved for private parties and events to be set up for them.
It was a fanciful set up, perhaps too much so given it was just Spider and Stasi and all Stasi really wanted was lunch. The entire room was painted red and there was a water fixture in one corner of the room that burbled quietly and featured several living bamboo plants. There were little built in shelving units that had vases filled with flowers in some and golden statues in others. The staff had pulled out one table at the center of the room and had it set up for the two of them.
One of the servers came in and set a menu in front of Stasi as soon as she was seated.
“Can I get the mushu pork and sesame chicken? Maybe some of the crab rangoons. Do you like crab rangoons, Spider?” Stasi asked, peaking up over the menu. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Spider felt awkward sitting at the table, normally he’d be standing behind Stasi mindfully, while she ate and orchestrated business dealings. He wasn’t really one to eat out per se, he usually ate one meal a day; a big dinner, something from the Ukrainian deli near his home. He’d even get a bag of sardines to bring back for the cats. To say he felt uncomfortable in an establishment so fancy, would be an understatement.
He didn’t really look at the menu because he was busy looking around the room; observing its furnishings, the ornate water fixture whose babbling filled the room.
“Uh, yes.” Spider nodded, somewhat unsurely as he couldn’t say he’d ever tried one. The good news was that he was not a picky eater.
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