This is A Thing

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"It wasn't even a big deal, Pavor makes it seem worse than it is, y'know? I met up with some of my father's friends here, got the tattoo, and they just roughed me up a bit, told me to get my head in check. I s'pose I've been lacking in commitment since our relationship became stronger. It really isn't an issue, Tom. I'm good at selling stuff; I can sell drugs. It's a decent business, when it's run properly," he groaned, the painful anguish coming from having to tug off his t-shirt whilst making sure his hand wasn't moved too much - though moving it was inevitable, and so was the subsequent pain.

"Besides, I wanna earn my own money. I have millions in my account, but it's all money my father's given me. It doesn't mean that much. You know, I once shot a man inbetween the eyes and stole his cash? I couldn't bring myself to spend any of it. It didn't feel right, it wasn't my money. It means a lot to me to earn cash myself," he continued, clearly in his own world. Normally, admitting to murders he -and his friends- had embarked on was far from his mind. He didn't want Thomas hating him or being scared, but being in as much pain as he was, things slipped out that he would come to regret saying. "Oi, help me take my t-shirt off, would you? I can hardly move without wanting to scream."​
 
"That's pretty lame for someone whose m... murdered someone," he stammered out, , before offering a nervous laugh. "I-I... did you need to kill him? Please don't tell me killing people isn't a frequent thing, right? Because t-that would be horrible!"

As he nervously babbled, he obediently tugged off the shirt before checking out the full damage, gasping in horror. "Oh, baby, you're real banged up. Can you take your pants off? Or do you need help?"
 
"Pavor does most the killing. Dad has guys he wants 'taken care of', and we act. I don't like it that much, you know. I don't... have it in me to kill people, it's not the greatest feeling., really. Thankfully Dad doesn't make me do it much anymore, and nor do I get myself in situations where I need to shoot someone. If I do, Pavor handles it. I just... torture them, rough them up to try and get information I need. Then Pavor kills 'em for me so I don't have to. Is it cowardly? He calls me a coward a lot. I just like to think I have some morals and I'm not a fucking sheep, following orders like a brainless zombie," he continued to openly admit. In a few hours, after resting, he would definitely regret being so honest about Pavor's role in the family. The man may adore Roman, and look to always protect him, but he wasn't immune to punching the boy now and then for what he saw as idiocy, and if the truth came out about him, Pavor would hardly be pleased... especially when it could fuck things up with Molly.

"Don't say that. It could have been worse," he mumbled, eyeing the bruises along his chest with a tired sigh. "It's really nothing, it's... normal in my family. It shows my Dad wants me to succeed, at least. Pavor once got shot in the back, just missed his spine, so a few bruises and a stab wound is nothing, babe."​
 
"That's horrible!" He squeaked, before leading the other to the bath once fully stripped of clothes. "I'm not letting you get back into that, okay? I'd rather get shot at then let your dad do all of this to you. You're family, for fucks sake! I mean... Family doesn't do this to other family. See, one thing I love about this is that it definitely puts my family in perspective.... Let's just take a bath, okay? I'll wash you up, a-and we forget about the fact that you've shot people before, okay?"
 
"We're not normal, I guess. It's fine, though. My Dad loves me, I always know that. It's just how we are-- it seems abhorrent from the outside, but he cares about me. He would never put me in a situation he didn't think I couldn't handle, Tom. You need to trust me, and start realising that my father isn't a completely bad guy. Sure, h does shitty things, but it's earned him a goddamn fortune-- and he's pretty nice. You know, he rescues stray dogs and cats? Last I heard of my Pa, my Dad had, like, eight dogs and five cats living under the same roof. He's got a big heart, he's not all evil and sadistic," promised Roman with a faint smile to himself, even if it temporarily grimaced at the hot water covering his swollen bruises and sore cuts, sinking under further when the stinging came to an end.

"I like my job. Pavor's always with me, so it's not like I'm going to end up dead. If I do, it'll be because I made a clumsy error, anyway-- would you rather me be happy and continue what I do, or be miserable and depressed working in some bar downtown, just because it's a job you approved of?"​
 
"I'd rather you not risk dying, Roman..." He warned, before deciding to climb onto the other's lap nonetheless, while keeping sure to avoid hurting the man at all. After all, he was desperate for some affection. "I want you to be safe, and I want us to have a nice life. I get that this is all about your job, but I think it's hardly fair that I'm the only one sacrificing here. Look, it's whatever. I really don't want to fight right now. Can we just... not talk about it?"
 
"I thought you wanted to talk," he challenged slowly, his growing smirk and general playfulness after the comment at least indicating he hadn't been beaten up too badly to be removed of his wit and sarcasm - things that made him who he was. They also made him frequently annoying, but he had always assumed Thomas loved him for it regardless of how irritating he knew he could be.

"I get it. This is why I don't talk to you about my work. It's not like I have an office job that I can witter on about. You can tell me whatever you want about college, but let's just... not talk about what I do. Unless you wanna hear about Pavor blowing out some guy's brains, I do think we ought to forget about it."​
 
"I just want you to tell me when you, like, go off somewhere and for why. Like, I don't want to ever feel how shitty I have for the past years because you were gone. I want to be with you, and be a proper relationship, and it's just that, you working for the mafia throws a wrench in a few of those plans, you know? I want to love you, get married, go on some cute dates... This is pretty hard to do when you're on the opposite side of the world..."

With a heavy sigh, he carefully pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed. Entwining their fingures, he offered a strain smile. "I love you, you know? A lot... I just want this to be as normal as possible.."
 
"And you think I don't want that? I'd love that, seriously, but I also want to... stay with my job and what I'm doing. I'll be more vocal, I promise. Hell, I can be more open now. You know when I mentioned about finding your brother for you, getting some of my mates to put the word out? Someone said they saw a guy that looked like Ace out in Ottawa. It's a thin lead, I guess, but I said I'd try and help you out, right? Or, at least, Megan. You didn't seem that thrilled about finding him-- I guess he did sorta abandon you lot," shrugged Roman carelessly, never having been a fan of Thomas' brothers. In his eyes, Ace had always been a goody-two-shoes; Vlad held similarities to a whore, and Junior craved attention by his outlandish rebellions. Granted, Ace was the kindest of the three and the one who at least could hold a conversation without a barrage of cussing, but that didn't mean Roman had liked him very much, even if he had only been 13 the last time he saw the guy.

"But hey, it's some information, right? Thought you'd like t' know about it. I'm not saying it's him, but I could definitely have someone check it out if you wanted?"​
 
"... He doesn't deserve to be a part of this family. He abandoned us, you know? He wanted to go soul searching at a college in the states, that's cool for him, but keeping literally no contact? That's fucked up... at least Vlad kept in touch with me, you know?" He murmured, before carefully washing the wounds with a frown.

"Tell Megan, if you want. I don't want anything to do with this, you know? Like, yeah, I want him to be fine, but... I guess I'm jealous. He's so smart, you know?"
 
"I always thought he was a nerd, to be honest, but he's still your brother, right? I dunno, I thought you wanted me to help 'ya out on this. I couldn't give a shit either way. I don't like your brothers much, they irritate me, though Ace is as least the nicest," he admitted, calming his tense voice that had occurred from wincing and grimacing at the pain of cleaning and dabbing at his cuts. They were far from serious, but they still hurt, and he wasn't entirely used to being the victim of a beating. He was usually the one who initiated violence on others. "You need to, like, stitch my hand up or something, it'll get infected-- I am not going to the hospital. I'll just down some vodka and have you stitch me up, alright? I don't trust doctors. I trust you though."​
 
"That's a pretty strong Russian stereotype, ain't it? Solve everything with vodka..." he murmured to himself, all the while grimacing at the clean wound. Nonetheless, he took time and care to work around the crusted areas before lending a soft kiss on the other's lips. "It doesn't need to be sewn up, but I will if you want me to. Some time and disinfectant should do the trick, really..." He explained calmly, before backing off a tad to take in the other fully.

"I don't think you should do any work for awhile. You need rest, sleep and stuff. Going straight into the drug trade would be so stupid."
 
"Yeah? Well, you try telling that to my Dad when he inevitably calls to ask why I'm not working? The man's living on a different continent, and yet he still knows what's going on in my life more than I sometimes do. Just... a few days of rest, alright? Then I'll have to get my act together and do something," he groaned in response, even if the mere fact Thomas was so protective over him definitely was a highlight. He often felt that all he did was irritate his boyfriend, what with his job and his refusal to bond with his family, so to at least see that Thomas cared for him regardless was a relief.

"You don't have to watch over me, I won't fall asleep and drown, Tom. Go watch TV in the bedroom or something. Molly will be back soon-- or you can go tell Megan about Ace, I know she's definitely eager to find him. Just don't worry so much over me, I'm only taking a bath."​
 
"Well, I enjoy taking a bath with you. I mean, isn't this a bonding thing? Besides, I don't want to be away from you any more than I have to. I mean, I went years without being by you, and you know how painful that was- emotionally and physically. I just... want to be a proper couple," he admitted quietly, the topic suddenly making him bashful as he shyly fiddled with his hands and avoided his lover's eyes.
 
"And you think I just want to, what? Be a criminal and say 'fuck it' to my relationship? I'd much rather work in that garage your Dad owns, than continue another hour doing what I do, but my father's pretty persistent. I'd love to just... give it up, be normal, but let's face it, it isn't exactly an option," bemoaned the Russian tiredly, having come to realise that the job he genuinely had loved at one point in his life, when he was his father's pride and joy, wasn't really what he wanted to do anymore. it carried with it risks, undeniably. Sure, he had influences in the police, the judges, politicians, that effectively meant he would get off from prison should he ever be arrested, but fucking around with other people who wanted to take a slice of power from him really wasn't a nice inevitability. Escaping from the business and going straight was desirable, but more of less impossible, given his father's unsympathetic decisions to have Roman beating to a pulp and stabbed if he showed just an ounce of reluctance.

"Hey, it's fine, though. I'm smart, aren't I? I'll find a way out eventually. Pavor can take over from me, he's... pretty happy to continue doing what we're doing. He was born to be a disruptive asshole," he continued, finally pushing himself up from the bath water and, once out of the tub, tied a towel around his waist. "You should be downstairs with Megan and our niece, you know. I shouldn't be around a baby looking like this, even if I do sorta want to hold it and stuff. My brother's got everything I want-- not the kid. I don't want 'em, but normality and all that shit. He's... pretty much the ideal right now. He told my father to fuck off, got himself a wife and a normal life. I'm never going to be like that, Tom, not for a decade or so at least."​
 
"Not with that attitude, you won't. Hopefully you know by now that I'm willing to wait for you, no matter what. I think I can handle a decade or so of this... mess. Do I want to? F-Fuck no! But... You're persistent. Hey, maybe I could help you. I mean, I'm a genetic engineer, for Christ's sake. I could... I dunno, make sure one of your men don't die if their heart fails, or loses a limb... If you won't quit, I want to help, you know? I don't want to be totally left in the dark!" He babbled, before quickly getting out of the tub himself, narrowly avoiding bashing his head on the towel rack in the process.
 
"And you'll do that? Come and tend to the guys if they get hurt, because they often do. I know we're supposed to run the city, which, not to toot my own horn, and we do, but they're a bunch of idiots at times. Petr, for example, shot himself and lost three fingers on his left hand. I'd definitely appreciate the help, but won't it intervene with your college work?" He questioned quietly, even if, deep down, he had instinctively grinned at the idea. He didn't want his boyfriend involved too much in that world, but if it was inevitable, then he definitely wanted Thomas to lend a hand now and then, if needed. It meant he could be more open with Thomas, if the neko was more involved in the work, and it also meant they would be around one another a lot more.

"I'll pay for night classes if you need to catch up on anything you miss. I'm happy to pay for your whole education, but you won't let me do that, so the least I can do is pay for you to revise anything you miss out on," he offered-- even though he wasn't willing to accept no as an answer to that. "But yeah, it'll be great if you get more involved in that way. Pavor will be fucked off about it, but I'm technically his boss. I'm right at the top-- I sound cocky, huh?"​
 
"Very. Don't you all do your stuff at night, anyway? I mean, the only exposure I got to the mafia outside of when you and your parents came is from NCIS and stuff. If that's the case, I can attend classes and still help at the same time. I've gone days without sleep, and Mikey can confirm that I do best without sleep on tests, so... Just, hopefully we won't worry about that all for a bit, though? Like, I seriously wish you would rest up."
 
"I told you, I don't need to 'rest up'. If you're so insistent, I'll sit back on the bed and watch some shit TV show," he mumbled under his breath, having come to realise over the weeks that arguing against Thomas when he had such conviction over something was effectively useless. Seeing him passionate like this, though, was something Roman secretly enjoyed - he felt the other's passion brought out the best in him.

The second he lounged back, though, Pavor had stormed in. It was difficult to tell him to leave, when he and Molly shared the room too, as a result of the large family in such a small house. "Had a nice bath, then? Am I allowed to check on him now, Tom? Do I have your special permission to look at my own best friend? Thanks, you're a doll," the large man grunted sarcastically, placing himself beside Roman and grabbed at his bandaged hand to inspect the bandages."...He needs to at least have this disinfected and stuff, Thomas. I'll take him to the hospital."​
 
"I know that, Pavor. He didn't even want to get in bed, so how the hell was I supposed to even suggest the hospital?" Tommy replied without dropping a beat, all the while getting dressed in something warm to counter the cold air that crept through the poorly insulated windows. Hugging himself, he watched on as Pavor inspected the bandages, a bitter grimace on his face while the other wasn't looking. Of course, the expression would drop the moment Pavor would turn back around.

"I want him to go to the hospital, sure, but... He probably won't. Right, Roman? O-Or are you going to finally get some help now that Pavor is concerned?"
 
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