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“OK, FINE, YOU ARE RIGHT!” Vladimir throws back the last of his vodka, slamming it on the counter of the bar and throwing his tattooed hands in the air; his eyes glazed and face comically exasperated. “Drinks should not have genders. Is social constructed bullshit.”
You throw your own arms up with a triumphant yell, ruffling the elder brother’s blond hair playfully as you chuckle and he bats at you.
“I TOLD YOU, I have just as much right to drink -” you pause as you smoothly swipe Anatoly’s glass of dark liquid out of his hand, smiling coyly as he sputters in protest.
“Shh, Tolya, I’m proving a point,” you purr affectionately, running a hand through his brown locks and giggling, turning back to Vladimir.
“I have the right to drink -” you take a second to pour back a considerable amount of the scorching alcohol, both men laughing at the look on your face as you hand it back to Anatoly.
“Ok, I have the right to drink whatever GARBAGEEEE Scotch that your brother is drinking, I don’t have to like it BUT I HAVE RIGHTS! Just like you have the right, my dear, to partake in the delight that is a well-poured, fruity as fuck Cosmo.”
As you slide your bright pink drink sloppily across the counter to a chuckling Vladimir, you tilt off balance and screech, quickly replaced by an audible, contented “mmmm” that comes from your throat as you feel Anatoly’s strong hands clasp around your hips to steady you.
Vladimir shoots his younger brother a wicked, knowing smirk which Anatoly returns with a warning glare that instinctively dissipates as you suddenly perch yourself up onto his lap, slinging your arm casually over his shoulder as his arm tentatively wraps around your waist to keep you from falling.
It takes all of his self control to not crash his lips into yours, to wrap his hands in your long, sweet smelling hair, to taste the alcohol on your tongue -- to be the guy that you take home. To be the one who gets the privilege to feel you, make love to you, touch you, show just how hopelessly in love with you he is ...
He’s killed, he’s tortured, he’s been shot, but the panic that floods his veins when he thinks of asking you to dance, of kissing you first -- it’s a panic that he’s never known before, but all he knows is that it’s all too real, too encompassing. Too vulnerable.
So Anatoly forces his feelings down and tries to mask them with a grin as he watches you finally settle comfortably before smiling brightly and planting a chaste kiss on the top of his head.
“Thank you Toly,” you coo happily, giving another satisfied hum as the brunette strokes his hand down the curve of your waist in acknowledgment.
Anatoly feels his cheeks warm, not from alcohol, but from the way his pulse quickens at your touch, utterly entranced by sweet lilt in your voice and the way your face lights up as you look at him. He tells himself it’s just the alcohol, that you look at a million other men like that. That he’s nothing special, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up.
But it doesn’t change the fact that jealousy burns his insides when he watches you hug his brother, when he watches you dancing in the dark with strangers, letting their eager hands roam freely across your body. When he can’t stop his heart from sinking as he watches their lips meet yours, the constricting feeling in his chest numbed only, and temporarily, by the sting of alcohol in his throat.
Anatoly snaps out of his reverie as he watches your head swivel, your mischievous gaze extending behind him at someone he can’t see. You grip Anatoly’s shoulder for balance as you hop down from his lap, throwing your hair behind your shoulder before snatching your Cosmo back from Vladimir and finishing it off.
“Well, gentlemen, it’s been a delight, as always, but tonight’s target has most definitely been acquired.”
Vladimir nearly chokes on his vodka as he laughs while Anatoly forces a humorless smile.
“Which one?” Vladimir asks curiously and despite the circumstances, Anatoly can’t help but suppress a chuckle at the adorable pout that appears on your face as you peer around with wide eyes, throwing your hands to your hair in exasperation.
“SHIT WHERE DID HE GO?! Imma go find him, I’ll see you two later, but I want hugs first.”
Vladimir rolls his eyes but lets your small frame give his 6 something body a bear hug which he returns, knowing it’ll make you laugh, and it does.
Anatoly’s heartbeat picks up as you turn and face him, motioning emphatically for him to stand up so you can bring him as tortuously close to your body as possible.
He savors these moments he has with you, always cursing himself for being unable to move things in the direction he wants. And as you murmur earnestly into his ear, that intermingling of desire and anxiety is stronger than ever.
“Tolyaaaaa! You give the best hugs, have I told you that? Don’t tell your brother, but you’re my favorite.”
Anatoly sighs and pulls away, smiling sadly. “You’re my favorite too.”
“Good.” You squeeze his hand briefly before waving to his older brother and within seconds, you’re lost in a crowd of bodies and all Anatoly wants is to lose himself in his drink.
He reaches for his glass only to be interrupted with a sharp blow to his upper arm and he snarls, looking up and only feeling further enraged by patronizing look that his brother is giving him.
“Don’t start this shit, Vladimir,” Anatoly says icily, knowing full well where this conversation is headed.
“I’ll keep starting this shit until your balls drop and you finally get with Y/N,” Vladimir says sternly, only enraging his younger brother further.“Any fool with eyes can see how much you like her, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and go get her.”
The liquor makes Anatoly’s anger and frustration all that more apparent, but he does his best to keep himself from starting a bar fight with his brother.
“It’s not that simple,” he says through gritted teeth, right hand gripping his glass so tightly that it seems plausible that it might shatter.
“нет? Well, then elaborate, брат мой,” Vladimir says coolly, leaning back against the bar counter with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in anticipation.
Anatoly takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, rubbing his temples in an uncharacteristic sign of weariness that actually alarms Vladimir. He drops his attitude, clasping his brother on the shoulder and giving him a surprisingly sympathetic glance.
“Come on. We share everything, да?”
Anatoly nods, staring into his drink. “I’m in love with her. I love Y/N,” he murmurs hesitantly, his voice barely audible in the din of chatter and pop music.
Vladimir’s reaction is unexpected, grabbing his younger brother firmly by the collar of his jacket before grabbing his face with two hands.
“Then what the fuck are you waiting for, Tolya?”
The question’s simple earnesty, the genuine support of his big brother, the lingering scent of your perfume on his jacket, the alcohol in his veins -- suddenly everything amalgamates into a beautiful, dizzying moment of clarity and courage.
But there’s still fear gnawing at his chest and he can’t help it when he blurts out, “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”
Vladimir chuckles lightly. “I think she does, Tolya, I think she’s just been asking herself the same question about you. But either way, you’re not going to know unless you try.”
Anatoly nods slowly, his jaw set, newfound determination and adrenaline filling him. “I’m going to find her.”
Vladimir’s scarred visage suddenly breaks into a wide grin, looking past his brother and nodding.
“No need.”
Anatoly turns around quickly and takes a deep breath, steeling himself against the onslaught of nerves that takes over whenever he sees you. It doesn’t help the way your skirt clings to your curves, your cropped, floral shirt drawing attention to your chest and your toned stomach.
Vladimir hits Anatoly’s shoulder affectionately before rustling his baby brother’s brown hair.
“Have fun, little brother. You can do this.”
Anatoly huffs irritably as he flicks his hair out of his eyes but manages an appreciative, albeit nervous smile, watching and shaking his head as Vladimir turns and nonchalantly grabs the hand of a passing redhead who immediately stops and follows him to dance.
Before he can collect his thoughts, he feels an impatient series of taps on his back and he knows before he even moves that those are your delicate fingers prodding him.
He turns around smiling and catches your hands in his, heart racing at the brightness in your eyes.
“TOLY, why are you all alone? Hang out with me!”
Anatoly pauses for a second, his voice as measured as possible.
“Won’t your ah, target, wonder where you are?”
You let out a comical “UGH” and Anatoly can’t help but laugh along with you as you raise both of your hands up in a “don’t even get me started” manner.
“He was SO creepy, wouldn’t stop asking where I lived and I’m just like bro, just tryna dance right now so I was like byeeeeeee and dodged that motherfucking bullet,” you say proudly.
With the final clearance of the fuckboy out of the picture, it’s the final push that Anatoly needs. “You want to go outside?”
You nod nod happily, eager to take a break from dancing and the drunk, sweat-soaked crowd. Anatoly doesn’t know it, but your own heart speeds up with the giddy, nervous thrill of getting to be alone with him.
Anatoly smiles, interlacing your fingers with his as you both work your way through the crowd to the exit. You swing his hand blissfully as you finally get outside, the cool night air flooding your lungs and soothing your flushed skin.
“WOW this is so much better,” you say with a laugh, waiting for Anatoly to respond and feeling surprised when you’re only met with silence.
You turn your gaze up toward him, butterflies taking over as you see that he’s already staring at you; the intensity in his eyes sending heat flooding through you.
“What, Toly?”
Anatoly makes his final decision, knowing full well that there’s no going back after what he’s going to do. But he knows he’d rather at least get to kiss you once, let you hear how he feels and get rejected than to keep waiting in endless unknowing, sick of dancing on the edge between friendship and more with you.
He untangles his long fingers from yours, moving himself directly in front of you. His expression is so unnaturally tender that you feel your breath catch in your throat, your eyes widening with surprise as he gently brings his thumb to the smooth skin of your cheek, caressing it delicately, precisely.
“Tolya,” you murmur, indecision and desire building in your throat. Your eyes flicker downwards nervously then back to him, and god he’s so close and so, so handsome and you’ve wanted him for so long ...
“Tolya, what are you doing?” you whisper, voice cracking as emotion builds in your throat. You’re breathless, scared and exhilarated to death as your poorly bottled feelings rise in your chest.
He rests his forehead on yours and you can’t help but laugh shakily, so overwhelmed by the realness of the moment. You wrap your hands slowly around the dark fabric that clings to his back while he brings his to cup your face.
His own voice is thick with emotion; mirroring the unspoken truth of the feelings that you’ve both kept deep inside your chests:
“What I should’ve done the first day I met you, Y/N.”
There’s a heartbeat of a pause before you both move in unison, bodies and lips and tongues coming together frantically, eagerly; the hardest part is over and this is here and now, this is all that matters to Anatoly.
He feels his hardness melt away as you touch him fervently, hands working up to tangle in his hair as his grip your hips and pull you against him; kissing you even harder at the soft moan of satisfaction that passes through your lips. He could cry from how good you feel, how right you feel. The warmth of the fire spreading through his veins and reaching his heart as your lips meet and part; return and restart.
You have to fight to tear yourself away from his lips and when you finally do, all you want is to start again at the utterly entranced look in Anatoly’s eyes, the way his chest is rising and falling just like yours.
You press your head to his chest and can’t stop the tears from falling as he pulls you into his arms, but he quickly tilts your chin up to face him, his face now etched in lines of concern.
“What’s wrong?”
You shake your head and laugh through your tears, emotion and alcohol mixing up at once.
“Please, please tell me I’m not just a one night stand. Because I can’t do that, not with you.”
“Nyet, nyet, nyet, hey, ” Anatoly says soothingly, framing your face in his hands again, gazing at you so sincerely and sweetly that you have to cover your mouth with your hands, utterly overwhelmed by your groundbreaking admittance of the truth of the way you feel about him, so terrified that you’ve ruined things with him.
“Y/N,” he says incredulously, a small smile breaking across his face. “Look at me, красивая девушка. Since the day I met you, you’re all I’ve wanted. I should have told you sooner, but I was scared. Scared by how much I feel for you, Y/N. I want you, all of you, only you. Sober, drunk, whatever.”
You bite your lip with a small, hiccupy laugh, dizzily happy but still craving reassurance. You gratefully accept his hand that reaches out, exhaling deeply as you squeeze it tightly.
“I was scared too. That’s why ... all those other guys meant nothing, they were just fucking distractions because I was so scared that you wouldn’t feel the same if I told you how I feel. But I just want you, I want us, Toly,” you whisper, voice breaking again, but this time with the unbridled thrill of the moment starting to sink in. This was real, how you both feel was real.
Anatoly nods fervently, bringing his lips back to yours, but softly this time, sweet and tender.
“I love the sound of us,” he murmurs as he pulls back and you beam as he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand shaking slightly with adrenaline; all former hesitation sweeping away at the gorgeous smile on your face and the light in your bright eyes, sincere and honest and loving and everything he’s ever dreamed of.
There are a few things in life worth risking everything for, and in this moment with you, Anatoly is sure that getting to be forever by your side is one of them.
“And I love you, Y/N. So much,” he says earnestly, his own voice breaking into a slightly breathless, emotional laugh at the realization of his admission, how much he absolutely adores you. How completely open he is.
Your heart catches in your chest as you laugh dazedly, joyfully, pressing your lips to his once more and winding your hands around his neck while his settle around your hips.
You both pull apart smiling, noses touching before you say those words that have been building, the words that courage and trust have brought from your chest to your lips, words that now fall freely, confidently from your tongue and soar into Anatoly’s head. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and it’s a sound that’ll continue to soothe and enrapture him for the rest of his life.
“I love you too, Tolya.”