For Sist3r_Sin -- The New Tattoo

[red_peril]

Illya's eyebrows raised when Ivan's driver pulled the car to a stop and parked in front of the tattoo parlor. The sign was in Russian. It was not a place for hipsters and tourists to get inked. It was almost exclusively used by the Vor. The man who owned it was an old friend of his boss' from Russia. The driver got out and opened the door. As usual, Illya got out first, and then his employer. In truth they were more than that. By saving the old man's life, he had earned a permanent place in the family.

"Come, you have earned a new mark, Kuryakin," Ivan told him. He followed his boss inside and watched as he greeted the owner, Victor, with a kiss on the cheek and a handshake. "Go, take off your shirt and lie down."

He listened to the two old men talking softly in Russian as Illya went to the table toward the back of the shop and removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding the shirt off revealed his story to everyone who knew how to read it. He laid down on the table on his back, revealing a couple of recently healed scars. One on his chest bisected the crucifix, cutting Jesus in half and angled toward his heart. The other, raked down well developed abdominal muscles on his left side. These were from the knife wounds he had taken for Ivan. His boss sat down in the back in a chair and picked up one of the Russian newspapers lying there.

The tattooist came and sat down by Illya, pulling on a pair of neoprene gloves and looking over the display of prison and military tattoos. The new tattoo would be different. Made with professional ink and the artwork would be better defined. The tattooist cleaned the area around his abdominal scar with alcohol and looked over the space. Unlike American tattooists, he would not be working from flash, but from memory.

Illya relaxed while the artist prepared his inks. Today he would be getting the Ivanoff family crest, held by a bear. A mark that he was a protector of the family.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

"Was dinner part of your plan?" she asked, stepping up to meet him when he slid an arm around her waist, comfortable but unwilling to be handled like a doll; the Vor were not known for being overly chivalrous to women, she knew.

She stood still for a moment, smile evening out as she watched his face, only to wing up again when she knew it crossed his mind to kiss her. "We can always come back later. I know someone who works here, he might let us back in to see them privately."

[red_peril]

"It was, if you are interested?" Illya had no intention of handling her that way. "Do you like sushi?"

Her suggestion brought back his wide smile and the excitement to those blue eyes and he was back to looking like a little boy on New Year's Day. "Ooh, do you think they would run the train for us?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"I do," she says lightly, smiling. "I like most food."

She did, really; she might have liked German food out of habit and familiarity, but most things wouldn't offend her. "They might," Sinthia replied to his question about the train running.

"I'll have the train run for you if you'll let me pay for dinner," she suggested.

[red_peril]

"Excellent," he grinned. "I know a very good place. Have you ever been to Osakaya?" It was small but elegant Japanese restaurant not far from the Met. None of those silly conveyor belts. This was an old fashioned place where you sat at the bar and the sushi chef made your food to order.

"And all I have to do is let you pay for dinner?" his eyebrows raised. Normally, he wouldn't ask her to do such a thing. "On one condition. You go out with me a second time and I pay for dinner." Which would also not be at Ivan's restaurant. Illya spent a lot of time there most days, it was nice to get away from it.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia had to laugh at the way he looked at her when she suggested paying for dinner. "Yes, all you'd have to do is let me pay for dinner," she said, nodding. "I thought there would be more of a fight with you about it. Most men with the tattoos you have would have started an argument."

She shrugged at the idea of a second date where he paid. "We'll see about you paying. But I like the idea of another date." Her mouth twisted in a smile.

[red_peril]

"I can't let you pay for dinner all the time!" he said, half teasing. "Most men I know with tattoos would not take their women out to dinner in the first place. Their mistresses, maybe."

"But I too like the idea of a second date, obviously." It had been so far, one of the best nights he could ever remember. He didn't date much. There was not a lot of opportunity for it and the Vor didn't seduce so much as they took what they wanted. He could not treat a woman like that and it hurt watching how they treated women and not to be able to step in between them without blowing his cover.

[abyssum_invocat]

"It's a good thing I'm not your mistress or your woman, then," she replied gently. "I know you work for men who don't date. It's alright if we break a few rules when we're out alone, though."

She could tell--being good at reading people--that he wasn't much the same as the rest of the organization he worked for, and laced her fingers through his in answer to his teasing. "Will we be going to Ivan's restaurant?" she asked, restraining a smile.

[red_peril]

His face became a little more serious, "It's difficult." He liked her fingers in his. "But I could not treat you like that." Aside from his mother being very disappointed in his behavior, he just was raised better. "Yes, some rule breaking is Okay. You must let me pay sometimes. You would not want to hurt my pride. Let everyone think I am your boy toy."

He was joking again really, but still it was proper for him to pay once in awhile. "If you wanted we could, but not tonight. I am there all the time when I am on duty. I do not necessarily want to hang out in Ivan's place when I am not."

[abyssum_invocat]

She chuckled at that. "Of course you'd be my boy-toy," Sinthia replied. "I have no problem with you paying sometimes, so long as you have none with me asserting that I am not like the women the men you work with keep around."

She was very careful to not lump him in with the rest of the Vor, because something about him was indeed different. "I can get myself there on my own, Illya. Don't feel pressured to spend time with the man when you're on your own time. Just because he is vor does not mean I will act like his wife does. Or his mistresses." She was aware he'd have more than one, certainly.

[red_peril]

"I like my woman strong," he laughed. "I do not mind that you are not like the women that the Vor treat like cattle. You are better than that and I am glad you understand." He got so little free time as it was between the Vor and the task force. Perhaps, one day when this was all over, if he was still breathing, he would tell her what he really was.

He had known she knew what the Vor was when they had met in the tattoo parlor. He couldn't help but notice that she'd been fascinated by the tattoos and she talked with impunity to Ivan. Not because she didn't know what he was, but because she did. It had been obvious. And dangerous. Luckily, Ivan liked her.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I'm glad, otherwise we would not last very long," she said, smiling as she shook her head gently, dropping her voice. "I know you are Vor, Illya. No one gets those tattoos without being crowned."

She tugged his hand towards the door, lifting her chin just a little; she spoke just as much with body language as she did with words. "We can talk on the way, if you'd rather. Maybe I'll let you buy me a drink, Illya."

[red_peril]

He nodded and followed her toward the door, their hands still joined. Once they were outside in the fresh air he told her, "I figured that you knew that day in the tattoo parlor. The way you looked when I put my shirt back on. You know what they mean, don't you?"

[abyssum_invocat]

She nodded, lifting her head. "I do. I learned to read them a long time ago."

Sinthia sighed once, softly. "Do you think less of me for that, pretty Illya?"

[red_peril]

"No. Not if you do not think less of me for having them. You think me pretty?" Illya's brow creased in a frown but only for a moment, his lips twisted as he tried not to laugh.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Well," she said. "You are very handsome. Am I not allowed to comment on it now?" She smiled at him a little crookedly.

"If you weren't I wouldn't have agreed to come out with you."

[red_peril]

And now he was blushing again, "Spasibo. You are very beautiful. You surprised me by giving me your number, you know."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Did I?" she asked, brows lifting as they walked; she couldn't quite match his strides in her heels, but she moved smoothly in them nonetheless, practiced at keeping up in what most of the world considered normal dress for women.

"I thought you might like it. Did Ivan warn you about me?" she asked, half-teasing but amused at the idea. She didn't present herself as obviously Russian or submissive, much less familiar with criminal politics; the mafia boss probably had said something about her not being trustworthy, but it was as likely because she was a woman as it was because of anything else.

[red_peril]

"Thank you," he said quietly, slowing a little so that she didn't have to run in the heels to keep up with his long strides. The restaurant was only a few doors down and when they reached it, he held open the door for her.

[abyssum_invocat]

"You're welcome," she replied, shaking her head gently as her mouth tilted up just enough to be called a smile. "I'm glad you used it."

[red_peril]

"Da, so am I," he couldn't help but smile. "Ivan did try to warn me about you. Sometimes, I do not listen very well," he said with a shrug. He walked into the restaurant behind her and they were led by the hostess to a couple of open seats at the sushi bar.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Now I want to know what he said," she chuckled, walking with him to the sushi bar, though she kept her hands close, away from the cold air passing around the little glass shield between them and the fish.

"There's nothing you should worry over about me, Illya. I may not be the kind of woman you're familiar with, but...maybe that's a good thing."

[red_peril]

"He didn't say anything specific about you. Only to be careful because you are not family," he accepted the hot steaming towel from the waiter and immediately washed his hands with it. Illya had been to the place enough times to know the custom.

"I agree. Most of the women that I know bore me," he admitted. Considering that if they weren't married to a Vor, they were whores of the Vor, many of them kept obedient by drugs. They also made him quite sad. "I like that you are not like them."

When it was all over, he hoped that they all would be freed and sent back to their families. But that was at least several months down the road.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I can assure you, you will never be bored around me," she said, and when he said something about her not being family Sinthia had to chuckle. "Remind me, someday, to show you something about that."

She wouldn't show him here, but she was well aware of the small, nearly delicate tattoo on the back of her neck. To change the topic, though, she took a towel from the man offering one with a quiet thanks in easy Japanese, dipping her head before she switched back to talking with Illya. "So tell me, what do you like in a woman?"

[red_peril]

"I have already figured that," he grinned. "I find you very interesting." He asked the waiter, also in perfect Japanese for a bottle of warm sake and two cups. "I look forward to seeing it."

"Well, you already know I like strong women," he leaned back in his seat and thought about it a moment. "Feisty, which you have already proven yourself to be. And of course beautiful, of which you are perfect example. Good fashion sense is must. Which you already display. I quite like the Faberge hair comb, it is lovely and very appropriate for the evening. And you were not embarrassed by me acting like a giant dork in the museum. You also have wonderful laugh."

[abyssum_invocat]

"It seemed fitting," she said, delighted that he'd noticed it. "I'm flattered you think I'm beautiful." Truth be told, while she'd been called as much by other people it had never carried quite the same affection as when Illya said it.

She caught herself feeling faintly warm and fluttery over him, and shook her head at herself. It was only the first date. "No, I think what you were is called a geek. There would have to be some level of social ineptness to make you a dork," she teased him with that little laugh appearing again. "And you seem to be managing quite well. "Buying me a drink and everything. But you know I will still show you my tattoo either way."