[fic] VF: Miracles

[sunflower1343]

Title: Miracles
Pairing: Mikhail x Feilong
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: NT
Warnings: contains a slightly different take on NT18, and a brief made-up encounter in the past for the two; and this is pure romance.
Disclaimer: These guys belong to Yamane-sensei.
x-posted everywhere... Sorry ^^;

Fake Cut (*not* locked):
Miracles

Notes: There's no sex in this, and you can blame kajornwan. *runs* She quite rightly reminded me that it should only be included, if it should be included. Thank you. :)



He ran swiftly down the narrow alley, jumping dirty puddles not because they'd ruin his expensive silks, but because the noise would tells his pursuers which way he'd run.

It had been a dare that had sent him out into the city that night. Yan, calling him a chicken, had known just what buttons to push to get him to attempt such a foolish attack with no preparations. He knew better. Assassinations had to be planned thoroughly, completely, down to the last detail.

This wasn't the wild west of a John Wayne movie where you could just run in with guns blazing then jump on a horse and ride off into the sunset. And yet that was just what he'd tried to do.

He took a left between two tall buildings, skidding on god-knows-what, knocking a trash bin over.

Shit!

There were shouts behind him. They'd heard.

Suddenly a hand grabbed his and jerked him aside.

"This way!" Into the back of a store, past some startled old men playing cards, recognition and surprise in some of their eyes, out the front, down a few blocks, into a club and up to the second floor to some private rooms.

He paused there, panting, bent at the waist.

"You're a guy!"

Wonderful. One of those. Once he caught his breath, he straightened and turned around as haughtily as a fifteen year old might. "Indeed. What might you be?"

What it might be was a golden-haired angel. A laughing one with very mischievous blue eyes. "I thought I was rescuing a damsel in distress and that I'd at least get a kiss out of it. Although..."

"Don't even think about it," Feilong said in his most aristocratic tone.

"You're kind of sexy when you look down your nose at me like that," the angel teased.

Feilong stopped looking down his nose and turned his back.

"You know," the other continued, "I did just save your ass. Your -really- nice ass..."

There was a couch by the wall. Feilong promptly sat on it.

"You're incredibly amusing. What's your name?"

"My name is of no concern to you. If you'd show me your phone, I'd be happy to call a driver so that we might go our separate ways."

"Separating is the last thing I want. I guess I'll just have to keep you a prisoner here."

"How dare you!" He stood, icy cold, all his muscles tense and ready to act toward their one trained purpose, to kill. Kidnapping was a very real threat to him.

The face in front of him sobered, eyes narrowing. "Easy," the boy said in a gentle voice. "I was just joking. You're more than you appear, aren't you?"

Feilong didn't stand down.

"I don't mean to hurt you, or trap you. You're just fun to tease, that's all. Let's start over, can we? My name is Mikhail Arbatov. And you are?"

Arbatov! Feilong studied his companion more closely. He knew of the Russian crime family but had never encountered them. They were ruthless and dangerous opponents. But this one seemed no older than he.

"You recognize the name? I see. You don't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you."

"Hurt me? Don't be ridiculous. You couldn't if you tried."

The playfulness left the other's eyes a little, some sadness showing through. "You're wrong. I know a lot about how to hurt someone, especially someone like you who is so proud and beautiful."

Feilong felt something in his heart reach out to the loneliness he saw. And yet he knew he couldn't let himself care. Some of Yan's words echoed in his head, and he repeated them. "Children who can't stomach such things don't belong in this world."

"You sound like you're parroting someone older than you." Awareness dawned in Mikhail's eyes. "So that's it. You're a triad member."

"Not triad. You have a lot to learn, Arbatov."

"Teach me," he said softly, something growing in his eyes that Feilong understood all too well.

Mikhail took a few steps toward him. Feilong hadn't paid close attention to the Russian's movements, but watching him now recalled a film of a snow leopard stalking prey and it mesmerized him. Until he remembered that snow leopards bit. He leaped away, his back now pressed against the wall.

"So ferocious. So proud. So exquisite. Give me your name. Engrave it on my heart."

"I belong to no man."

"But you've already claimed me."

Mikhail closed the remaining distance between them, until he stood directly in front of Feilong. "My heart is yours. My life is yours, if you want it. You're the only truly beautiful thing I've known."

Feilong was confused. He hated being touched. He hated the covetous glances that always followed him. He'd killed more than once because of it. Yet the blue eyes in front of him held something he yearned for.

Mikhail bent down, closer, watching him with a longing that seemed to match his own, their bodies pressing together. "I want to kiss you. You're going to have to kill me if you want to stop me."

"I will. I will kill you," Feilong whispered, his body frozen.

The red lips in front of him hesitated just above his. "I don't doubt it," Mikhail murmured. "I feel the tip of your knife in my heart."

A dry softness brushed against his mouth, teasing him, making him tilt his head back, his eyes falling shut while he concentrated on the sensation. The softness pressed down, tugging at his lips, urging them to respond, to open. "Let me in, my proud one. Let me have one kiss before you shove the knife home."

The words aroused him like none ever had, and he opened his mouth and took the tongue that was being offered deep inside, letting it explore and taste him as he tasted in return. A moan arose low in his throat. His hands rose and tangled themselves in thick blond hair. His hips surged forward, seeking what they'd never had.

The door slammed open and they jumped apart as an older man stalked into the room. "Again, Mikhail? You didn't learn from your lesson after the last whore?" He slapped the younger Russian hard across the face, knocking him into the wall. His ring left a bloody cut on the once-flawless cheek.

"Evidently not, Uncle. Why would I deny you the pleasure," he spat the word, "of teaching me another?"

The man's fist rose again, but before he could use it a dagger was at his throat, Feilong directly behind him.

"Do not hit him again." Feilong spoke quietly, ice coating his words.

"I don't listen to whores!" the other sneered.

"Especially when you're dead." Feilong's eyes met Mikhail's, his body tense with fury, held in check only by the knowledge that this was Mikhail's family.

Give me permission, he silently demanded.

He pressed the knife point until red drops matching those on Mikhail's cheek flowed down the older man's throat.

Mikhail's eyes seemed to be trying desperately to communicate something to him, but he didn't understand, and he watched in frustration as the blue eyes went blank. He had to speak. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just get out of here," the boy snarled. "I don't mind a beating for decent sex, but you weren't that good."

Pain lashed at his heart. But perhaps it was a ruse...

"You think I didn't know you? Everyone knows the boy assassin who looks like a woman, Liu Fei Long. You fell right into my trap."

His body froze from the outside in, the cold quickly reaching his heart and encasing it in a block of ice.

"What fun it will be to let everyone know how you moaned under my hands."

Feilong's arm dropped. He stepped back from the older Russian, who was watching him warily. "Beat him if you will. I can see why you would need to."

As he walked out the door he heard fists striking flesh. He didn't look back.

--

At dinner week later he brought up the Arbatov organization. "Are they really that strong? What of the family itself? Do we know anything of them?"

"Funny you should ask," his brother said. "I just heard that a few weeks ago they'd brought the young heir to the family in to learn at his uncle's side, but that he was suddenly sent home a few days ago looking like he'd been beat to within an inch of his life. They say Yuri did it, and that he had to be pulled away before he killed him. That bastard gets off on killing male whores. I guess he decided his nephew was one."

If Feilong hadn't been sitting, his legs would have dropped from under him. He stared at his brother aghast.

His father spoke mildly from the head of the table. "Don't worry, Feilong. He'd never dare touch a son of mine. Being a Liu has its benefits."

A glance at his father showed he was smiling. Yan joined in, laughing at the expression on his brother's face.

Feilong smiled too because he didn't want to disappoint the one man he loved, but he was crying out inside because he finally understood what had happened. Not once but twice, he had been saved. And he could have saved in return but did not.

He would see that man dead.

--

Thirteen years later he watched passively as Asami's shots blew Yuri Arbatov off the back of the casino ship. His eyes rose three stories to the man who stood up there, watching. Neither of them were boys any longer. Many things had happened by the time they'd met again, not the least of which was the man kneeling in front of him at his young lover's side.

Feilong had dared to try for love again, only to be betrayed and left behind. It had been the last time.

He'd wanted to apologize to Mikhail the first time they saw each other again five years before, but his eyes had slid away, unable to meet the other's in shame. Mikhail had become sarcastic, cutting even, evidently mistaking Feilong's reaction as something else. Feilong let it stand; he felt he deserved the punishment.

Instead he'd focused on Asami, letting it push the other from his thoughts, the obsession becoming all too real and dangerous. He'd known he'd gone too far when Mikhail had walked into Baishe headquarters and confronted him. Though he'd tried to brush it off, that was when he'd sat down and took a hard look at himself and what he'd been doing to the organization.

His conduct with Akihito had mellowed after that, and he treated the hostage more like a friend, agreeing to let him go home. If Asami hadn't taken the deed he'd have just put the boy on a plane and sent him back to Tokyo. But he'd wanted the deed back and so had agreed to the switch.

Then Mikhail had to get involved again and screw things up. Feilong knew he wanted the deed, not to make money, but as a hold over him.

On the balcony overlooking the stern of the ship, Mikhail turned his head and their eyes locked. His gun was in his hand, but as they stared at each other, he slipped it back into his shoulder holster.

Mikhail gestured toward the couple embracing on the deck, and bowed slightly.

He planned this, Feilong realized, shocked. He wanted Yuri dead, and he wanted me to see Asami this way with Akihito.

Feilong walked forward in a daze, letting the scene play out, getting the deed back, sending the two on their way. He really didn't care about them anymore. His thoughts were on the Russian who'd arranged all this. He'd obviously misunderstood the man. Should he tell him how he'd felt all these years? The games no longer seemed to hold meaning. He didn't even want to kill Yoh when he interrupted a few moments later with his stupid confession, and if anyone deserved shooting he did.

He'd thought Mikhail no longer held feelings for him. That he'd just wanted to teach him a lesson.

And it had worked.

But now... Now what?

Now nothing. Mikhail left the boat, taking his men, and the whole thing was as if none of it had happened.

That's why it came as a complete shock three days later when Mikhail marched right into Baishe headquarters again and straight into the room where Feilong sat reading.

Feilong waved the alarmed guards out. "I had invited him. Leave us."

"You do that with such savoir faire. I'm envious."

"Will you join me for tea?" he gestured at a chair near his.

"I loathe tea," he said as he sat. "And I didn't come for polite chatter. Has any of what happened sunk in?"

"Sunk is a word I prefer not to use regarding the ship. However, the thousands of dollars worth of damage to the ship itself certainly caught my attention. I'll be sending you an invoice. I'll give you a week to pay before I start charging interest."

"I love it when you act all prickly. It makes me want to pull the stick out of your ass."

Feilong's eyes rolled. "I should have known you'd bring the conversation around to asses."

"One in particular is always on my mind."

"Is it? Don't you think you should concentrate on your organization more?"

"My organization is better than ever, thank you. Though we've needed to promote a new enforcer to the position of my right hand. The old one was such a bore."

"I wanted to kill him myself, for what he'd done to you."

Mikhail froze for a second, then leaned forward and picked up Feilong's teacup, examining the pattern on it. "Lovely. Your taste is exquisite as usual." He turned it and sipped from the place where Feilong's lips had last touched. "Ah, for some reason the tea you drink tastes sweeter than other teas."

"I'm sorry."

Mikhail set the cup down and sat forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at him earnestly. "There's nothing that you have to apologize for. Other than getting sidetracked with Asami because it broke my heart, but that's done with, isn't it?"

"Don't play with me, Mikhail Arbatov."

Something of the anguish inside him must have come through in his voice, because a snappy reply died on Mikhail's lips. "That wasn't my intention, Feilong. I meant to save you. Every single time. I just didn't have a very good track record."

Feilong poured some tea and offered the cup, his mind reeling from what he'd heard. They sat drinking it in silence, a rarity for them, Mikhail for once giving him time to think things through.

There wasn't much to think about though that he hadn't thought about the past few days. Mikhail had spent the last five years in Hong Kong clearing the path between them, not the least of which were the brambles within Feilong's head. He'd been like the prince cutting his way through to the castle to lead Sleeping Beauty out. Feilong snorted, drawing a raised eyebrow from his companion. That little thought would never go past his lips. But he offered up a truth in return for the honesty he'd been offered.

"I thought you were an angel."

"Excuse me?"

"When I first saw you and you pulled me to safety. I thought you looked like a mischievous angel."

A grin broke out across Mikhail's face. "And my kiss sent you to heaven?"

"Something like that," Feilong mumbled.

"Hmm? I didn't catch that."

"I said, 'It must not have because I don't remember'." When Mikhail's face fell it hurt too much. He hurried and forced out the rest of the words. "But, maybe if you refreshed my memory..."

To his horror, Feilong felt his face grow red. He stood up and walked quickly to the other end of the room and pretended to search for something on a table there. He refused to turn and look back. "What I mean is -"

"I know exactly what you mean." The approaching voice had him turning in alarm. Mikhail stalking him as a young man had been hypnotizing. The man he'd become positively sent shivers through his body. Mikhail's blue eyes were lit with an anticipation that had Feilong's heart pounding frantically.

There was no talk as Mikhail closed in for the kill, his mouth finding Feilong's unerringly, teasing it into opening as he once did, this time staking his claim completely and utterly.

Well, thought Feilong, he needs to learn I'm not the pushover I once was. Feilong's hands again found the blond hair, but this time weren't hesitant. He wrapped his fingers in it and dragged Mikhail closer, enjoying the surprised squeak that he heard.

When they came up for air, Feilong licked his lips. "Mmmm. Not bad. You've been practicing."

Mikhail's eyes narrowed. "I thought you didn't remember."

"I lied."

"I think I like this wicked side of you," he said, his voice low and hot as he bent his head down for another kiss.

But Feilong put a hand up between them, stopping him. "I lied about a lot of things, most of them to myself. But some were to you and for that, I truly am sorry."

Mikhail's hand played in the strands of hair that flowed of Feilong's shoulder. "I caused a lot of the problem myself."

"Because you were playing guardian angel."

"You know, I really don't like that image. Can you see me with a white gown and harp and wings?"

"Stop trying to change the subject. I'm trying to thank you."

"You can thank me best by putting it all behind you."

"I've been doing that with a lot of things lately."

"Good." Mikhail lifted a hand to cup Feilong's chin, and looked into his eyes. "But you've not done that with everything. Something else is worrying you. About us?"

There was. His eyes shifted aside. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to this. Yet before he could move on, he had to know. "Have you had sex with another man before?"

The Russian's eyebrows scrunched, delight appearing on his face. "Are you jealous...?"

"No." Well, a little, but before Mikhail could kiss him again, he pressed on. "I'm serious. Have you?"

"Of course, as have you. Is there a problem? Do you want me to get checked for STDs? Consider it done."

He shook his head, glad when hair fell to cover part of his face. It was so easy to speak about this when he was being cutting, but now, asking in earnest... "What I mean to say is, you should, of course, have yourself checked regularly to stay healthy but that's not what I meant..."

"Maybe you should tell me what you mean."

After taking a deep breath, he let question out. "Do you think the act of sex between two men can be love-making, or is it only a power play?"

There was silence, then a sigh. "I think that sex is whatever the two people having it want it to be."

"And what do you want it to be?"

Mikhail studied his face. "I want to devour you until there is no you and I, but only we." He took a step back, and then walked back to the couch where the tea tray sat, dropping his leather jacket over the back. "I'm aware that you might not love me, as charming as I am. But I'd like to think you'll come to. It's what I wish."

Feilong's heart thumped at hearing his own wishes spoken aloud.

"Feilong, look at me." He slipped the sweater and cotton shirt he was wearing over his head and tossed it aside. Then he turned. Feilong breath caught at the sight of his back, the scarring from beatings far more extensive than he'd expected, but beautiful nonetheless. This was no boy, and hadn't been for a long time.

"Ugly, isn't it?" Mikhail turned back to face him. "Do you understand? I've had enough of sexual power plays to last me a lifetime."

Feilong understood all too well. "I'm not sure you'll believe this, but you're beautiful, Mikhail. Even there. Especially there, because you got some of those scars for me."

"That's the first time you ever called me by my given name." Mikhail's eyes dropped, hiding them from view. Then he seemed to come to a decision and he raised them, showing Feilong the young boy that still lived in them, and who wanted this because it was the only beautiful thing in his life.

And Feilong found that it wasn't impossible for one man to love another after all.

He walked across the room, opening his clothes, letting them fall apart to expose his shoulder. When he reached Mikhail, he put his arms around him, and he caressed the rough flesh of his back. Mikhail flinched, then touched the scar that had pained Feilong for seven years. "The worst ones are on the inside."

Feilong nodded. "But they're healing now, thanks in part to you. Let me help you to heal yours."

Mikhail's eyes closed and he tilted his head forward so their foreheads rested against one another's. "I've waited so long to hear that in your voice."

"I'm sorry."

"No apologies, Feilong, not between us. And no regrets. Just see me honestly and stay even though you do. If you can promise that, I'll never leave your side."

Feilong's arms tightened. How much sooner could he have had this, if he'd only-

A tap on the end of his nose had him blinking.

"I said no regrets."

"I seem to be prone to them," Feilong responded dryly.

"I happen to know an old Russian cure for that."

Feilong's eyes narrowed. "I wonder, does the cure happen to involve being naked?"

Mikhail's eyes widened innocently. "You know Russian cures too?"

There was a knock and the door opened before Feilong could say enter. Tao limped in, wheeling a tea cart and staring at the bare-chested Mikhail with evil in his eyes.

"Ah, the little hero, rescuing you once again."

"Master Feilong, would the big villain like some tea?"

Mikhail grinned appreciatively at the declaration of war and quickly slipped his sweater on, taking care that Tao didn't see his back. But he leaned down and kissed Feilong's cheek, in full sight of the boy. "Perhaps we should continue this later. Dinner tomorrow night, my place? I have no ill-timed tea boys."

"That's because word has spread about you," Tao said under his breath.

"Tao," Feilong admonished with a laugh. "I have meetings until early evening. Should we say around 9:00?"

"Until tomorrow then."

Soft lips brushing his had him leaning into the kiss again. When Mikhail pulled away, his eyes were fiercely satisfied.

"Can we really do this?" Feilong asked, still a little unsure.

"Feilong, angels perform miracles, don't they? Have a little faith."

He examined the face before him, then nodded. "Until tomorrow."

His eyes followed Mikhail as he walked toward the door, wondering what it would be like to face an equal in bed. Wondering if it might be possible to even make love there. Then he realized it. Making love was a misnomer. You didn't make the love. You expressed what you already felt.

"Mikhail," he called out, stopping him at the door, causing him to turn.

"Yes, my love?"

"I understand now." He tried to put it into words. "We don't need another miracle."

The blue eyes looked frankly into his to see what was there, and Mikhail smiled, really smiled. "That's good. I think I've just used up my quota. And I'd best leave before I embarrass you beyond repair in front of the little master."

Feilong glanced at Tao who folded his arms and stood there stubbornly. He hid a smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, putting the real meaning into his eyes. He knew his message had been received when he saw it being returned.

"Tomorrow."

When the door closed, Tao placed a teacup on the table and filled it. "Master Feilong... You really love him?"

"I believe I do, Tao."

"Then I'm sorry. I'll try to treat him with more respect."

"Perhaps a little more. But don't stop it entirely. I think he enjoys sparring with you."

"Then I'll try just to be only a little bit naughty."

Feilong smiled and picked up his tea, inhaling the grassy fragrance of the pale liquid. "Well," he murmured, "Stranger things have happened."

~end~