Chapter Text
Meemo was starting to think that he needed to remind Yuri of his place, especially when he grinned wolfishly at American women.
The demands of their workload made it impossible to do anything outside of Varga’s ordered tasks. Repressing the frustration into work made Meemo edgier. If Yuri was also frustrated, the Slav didn’t let on. Instead he offered some attention to the receptionist at the desk while Meemo sat on the other side of the lobby.
Madeline used to be uncomfortable by the brooding silence until she’d overheard Yuri speaking English to some of the guys. The subject couldn’t have been that bad when after that it was how-are-yours and fresh coffees pulled from the machine for Yuri. She'd tried to establish a sense of pleasant midwestern hospitality to Meemo as well, but he remained cold and impassive in his seat, seething when he saw Madeline and Yuri talking around slower hours.
Meemo told Yuri once that his language was crude; too emphatic of the mouth and teeth. Yuri only chuckled at him, shaking his head in an almost condescending disappointment. Meemo had almost been confused, expecting a bigger reaction from Yuri. Yet his accent when speaking English was somehow worse, gravitating certain kinds of attention that Meemo preferred that it didn't. Some women would be magnetized, knowing no better of Yuri’s character. Most men expressed discomfort and unease. The way that some of the women laughed at Yuri, batting their eyes and showing off their bleached teeth in their flirty smiles, Meemo considered the women more dangerous. Unlike the men in their Red Scare, there was some unspoken intent to subjugate and gain control, of wanting to quietly make something of someone’s all their own. To have, to control and manipulate as they wanted. They wanted to domesticate Yuri without fully knowing where he came from.
(What he is.)
Meemo yearned to show all of them the truth. The lustful women. The paranoid men. To have pulled Yuri against him in front of them, crashing his mouth to Yuri’s and bringing him to his knees from little caresses alone. Showing them that the dark and deceptively handsome creature that they saw was Meemo’s.
To devour him in plain sight as they looked on in disgust and horror — and even a quiet almost shameful twinge of envy.
They were sent out of the company building to the grocery store, Meemo blasting Vivaldi from his earbuds, still caught in the cloud of envy and resentment from Yuri’s light conversation with Madeline earlier. No task was ever too small in Varga’s eyes, even the annoying task of grabbing his groceries, and he ate excessively. Meemo and Yuri hated every minute of it; the long lines, the chatty cashier with buck teeth, and all the blasted noise. From the censored pop and country songs to the screaming babies to the exasperated customers passing through from work.
They much preferred killing people.
That hadn’t stopped Yuri from making these trips more annoying than they had to be on their own. He did nothing to help, if anything making it worse by throwing random items from top shelves to the cart. He smirked at Meemo any time that he’d caught them or shoved them back where they belonged, standing on his tippy-toes as he shot Yuri a blank stare. Meemo also hated pushing the cart, but Yuri was never going to do it.
And no one ever moved.
They’d be lurking ever so slowly and stop for no apparent reason in the middle of an aisle. Even to hold canned soup. Just how long did it take to decide? Then leaving no space on either side of their cart, making it impossible for Meemo to attempt passing them when he badly wanted to. The situation would be more agitating for the Asian when someone followed too closely behind and Meemo would have to find out when he couldn't turn around because there was no space.
Those were the times that made Meemo want to clean stores out. Just shoot them all dead with a silent scream in his throat as each bullet lodged in someone's forehead. Bang, bang, bang. He'd reload, look back up and saunter to shoot the remaining shoppers that had taken cover. Then at the release of such catastrophic rage, he’d finally shop in peace, stepping over their still and bleeding bodies of widened eyes and gaping mouths as Yuri looked on in smug appreciation, trailing unhurriedly behind.
Fantasizing about it as he listened to a corresponding piece often kept Meemo in check, stopping him at the edge. Barely.
Yuri never seethed like Meemo with these nuisances. Depending on the Slav's mood, he'd either whistle at them like pets or he'd tap them on the shoulder, only inclining his head emphatically when they bothered to turn around. When they didn't, they would be shoved aside. There were always some dirty looks but an eventual resignation to budge. That didn't mean that there wasn't an occasional customer that didn't feel personally slighted by Yuri's rudeness. That they could be stopped at fighting words and nasty stares. Some would have an appetite to act violently in return, yet a glance from Yuri's black eyes could be enough to make some of them change their minds.
For the ones that didn't, anyone can guess how it ended. Yuri liked keeping a mental score of how many Americans he battered, laughing as they would limp away in shame. In terror of the beast in human's skin, knowing on some level that death might be next.
Meemo just wanted to be over and done with at the store, and for as much as Yuri’s tall intimidating presence was efficient in clearing pathways, he was also incredibly childish and somehow roguishly handsome to some eyes. Meemo didn't see it. He saw a large forehead with long creases, a big nose and black eyes on an oblong-shaped face. What was handsome about that? Not to mention that Yuri didn’t know how to dress. He was in loose-fitting sweatpants . From their last argument about clothes, Meemo knew that getting Yuri to wear something refined was like expecting a feral animal to enjoy a warm bath and nail trim.
They were in the produce section. Yuri chuckled as he waved a thick cucumber in his hand. Trying to shove it in Meemo’s face. The Asian raised his brow at him, sending him an are-you-serious glance. Yuri smirked at him, mischief in his eyes as he almost pushed the cucumber to his mouth for what Meemo suspected to be a gesture of fellatio.
“Sorry! I’m right behind you,” said a woman’s voice, causing Yuri to put the cucumber back where he grabbed it like he’d been burned.
The Slav hunched forward, making himself as slight as he possibly could from where he stood between the produce and Varga's groceries in the cart. He pocketed his hands, sending Meemo that same glance the Asian had made at him when he'd waved the phallic vegetable. Meemo noticed that the woman wasn't trying that hard to avoid infringing Yuri’s space. She seemed to only be there to push in next to him.
Meemo fumed.
Yuri went to lean more forward to escape her proximity, the cart trapping him there as he stiffened. Feeling something against his rear. He looked at Meemo.
“She touched my ass?” Yuri hissed, affronted.
Meemo was about to confirm that it hadn't actually been the woman’s hand that Yuri felt, but her hip brushing him as she leaned over to grab something from the top bin. Being unable to reach it, she turned to Yuri and cleared her throat.
Meemo’s eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me,” She said.
Meemo saw that she didn’t look over at him even once. He was close enough to Yuri that he’d be noticeable. Her attention was completely fixed on the Slav, erasing Meemo from her line of vision. Meemo was now absolutely sure that she'd come over here for one reason only.
And it wasn't for the artichokes.
Meemo sent Yuri a withered look; Get-rid-of-her! He inclined his head at the brunette behind Yuri for added emphasis. Yuri threw his arms at him in an irritated gesture, shaking his head a little in dissatisfaction. Meemo shrugged his shoulders at him, then pointed at his fancy timepiece. He raised an eyebrow at Yuri in a silent question.
“Yes?” Yuri turned to face her, wearing his fakest sweet smile. He chuckled the way he often did to let Meemo know that he was pissed.
She almost immediately knew he wasn’t local.
“Oh. Um, do you speak good English?” She asked, smiling at him. Blind to the insincerity in his black eyes as he stared at her.
“Ona tolstaya [-She is fat-]. Pochemu ona razgovarivayet so mnoy [-Why is she talking to me-]?” Yuri rambled off to Meemo, chuckling as he made a show of glancing at him and scratching where his facial hair used to be under his chin.
As though he was struggling to accurately translate this new situation to Meemo and not making complete fun of her.
He turned back to her with that same fake smile.
“I speak better than him. Why?”
Meemo snorted at that one, fiddling with his iPod as he searched for a different playlist. Vivaldi was too soft. He needed something more matched to his present state. He found Night On Bald Mountain, tapping for it to play as it readjusted his playlist. He fixed his earbuds.
They had been in the store for ten minutes already.
He wasn’t confident that they would be out before the piece ended.
“Oh! Okay. Would you help me? Please? I need some vegetables and I can’t reach them.” She sighed, managing to sound sheepish, “If it’s not in the way of anything?”
Too late for that. Meemo thought grimly. More displeased by her batting her eyelashes at Yuri. Of course she would have, she was trying to be appeasing, having no idea that Yuri was already laughing at her for the effort. If he could have felt any pity, Meemo might have said something. He was only quietly outraged. Her nerve, his resignation. Where was the swift resolution of sending her away?
“Sure,” said Yuri, pulling his hands from his pockets as he looked over the vegetables. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, looking bored and discontent.
“Two artichokes—”
She didn’t eat artichokes.
“—two cucumbers—”
Yuri had been playing with one of them.
“—and four carrots!”
Meemo enjoyed watching as Yuri gathered those aforementioned vegetables in his arms, hugging them to his chest like he was about to drop them all on the floor at any moment. Meemo would have laughed, because she would have been so upset if he had. Possibly enough to have them kicked out. Yuri carefully tucked those handfuls of veggies into the cart. Smiled as he made eye contact with the little boy on the seat, his legs sticking out from underneath the handle of the cart. A pacifier in his mouth, looking no older than two.
“Cute enough to eat,” said Yuri in a saccharine voice, tugging the boy’s cheek.
The boy scrunched his little face up, burning up from the cheeks as he started to cry and shriek. The woman dove to save the pacifier from hitting the store floor, tucking it back in his mouth as she gently shushed him. The boy calmed, especially when Yuri had sauntered back next to Meemo.
He must have sensed the evil.
“He’s shy around strangers.” She laughed.
Meemo hoped the near crying fit would be the end of it. This was starting to become uncomfortably long. He couldn't stop looking at the boy calmly chewing his pacifier, feeling some kind of pitiful shame.
"Good reason, yes? There could be bad guys." Yuri smiled with promise.
“Oh.” She chuckled, her cheeks tinged pink.
Meemo wondered how she couldn't have heard the dark undertone to such a statement. She was oblivious, almost forcefully naïve. She reached into her tight-fitting business pants from the side, pulling a notepad out. She jotted something down on the page. Meemo and Yuri slowly exchanged looks. Meemo's face asked the question of; can we go now? Yuri nodded gravely to which Meemo took it to mean: Let's but quietly. They were about to turn away, wander off to another aisle when she tore the paper out and touched Yuri's arm, looking up at him. Into his black and beady eyes.
What is she seeing there? Meemo wondered, fuming again.
"Thanks for being such a gentleman. Call me sometime." She tucked the paper into his pocket, touching his arm again.
“Call you?” He knitted his brows, flicking his eyes to Meemo incredulously before looking back at her in unadulterated confusion.
Neither of them had completely understood what had happened.
“Yes! Now you have to.” She laughed as though he'd told a joke, squeezing him on the arm.
Meemo thought he saw the last of Yuri’s soul escaping his body when that happened. The Slav became more stiff than before. It was kind of entertaining to see something getting under Yuri’s skin for once, but Meemo’s exasperation was starting to cancel out the small amusement.
“Oh, I get it.” Yuri chuckled in his annoyed fashion, nodding his head. “Yes. Yes. I call you. Nikogda ne sluchitsya [-Never happening-]. Ona seryezno [-Is she serious-]?”
“We are running behind by thirteen minutes. There are still twenty-two items on this list. We have not collected one of them. This is a problem.” said Meemo abruptly.
The woman glanced, seeing Meemo for the first time. His accent suggested a sharper tongue, a quiet and unexpected eloquence to some syllables that had emphasis to certain words. He liked to believe that it made him sound clever, too. Especially next to Yuri. Not that Meemo would have wanted to steal Yuri's thunder here. He was providing an exit.
Yuri almost laughed out loud when he saw the woman’s reaction, having previously believed that Meemo knew no English.
“Better go now. Boss is unhappy.” He explained, grinning like the fox that ate the hen alive as he slid himself free from the woman’s grip.
“Oh. Wait! There’s something else!” She exclaimed.
The Narwhal henchmen quickly headed off in another direction, none of them turning back even once. They couldn't escape fast enough. After some frantic searching and collecting of the listed items, they found themselves stuck in one of many cluttered checkout lanes.
Meemo kept looking around for a shorter alternative, or a line that shrank faster than theirs. Yuri had stopped him from turning his head at some point, squeezing his shoulder and whispering close enough to his ear that Meemo's heart skipped, “Relax, malenkaya [-little-].”
Meemo almost hated how much that calmed him down. He was restless. They weren’t out of the store yet, and if that woman saw Yuri again… He didn’t want to think of what would happen, taking almost everything for him to have kept his mouth shut. To not have driven the cart away, causing some sort of scene to escape the unbearable situation.
Once they were up, Meemo set items on the conveyor belt. To his great surprise, Yuri began helping him lay the items out. Usually, he liked to wander around by the spirits and liquor section, or he stayed behind the cart, intently watching as Meemo did all of the work. Yuri had even helped him without bumping into Meemo that much when they were leaning into the cart in the cramped distance between the checkout counter and the neighboring stall. Yuri squeezed through like a cat, bagging their groceries quicker than any store employee could have come over to offer more idle chit-chat.
Meemo hadn't been so quickly pacified in such an overwhelming background as a grocery store. Suddenly the idea of punishing Yuri had escaped him after that, Meemo only wanted to sweetly kiss him and hold him close. Meemo considered the idea. Did he really like Yuri like that ? He glanced over at the tall Slav with the beady eyes and big nose walking next to him as he pushed their cart out in the parking lot, finding the spot Meemo parked the black Cadillac. Yuri glanced back, simply arching a brow at him and twisting his lips in not quite a smile. Probably wondering what Meemo was thinking, to be looking at him. Yuri, with the annoying chuckle and bad breath, the poor style, who liked to monologue and instill fear in the hearts of his enemies before he killed them.
Meemo had never asked himself why it was easy for him to touch Yuri, degrading him and debasing him in every way that he allowed. Why it’d be harder to add feelings on top of that. To care, much less for a different breed of killer than he was. What did it mean then that Meemo wanted no one to look at Yuri like he was?
“It’s you again!” That woman’s shrill voice exclaimed.
Meemo went cold.
They were standing behind the trunk, setting white plastic bags down. All of their tools and weapons were in a hidden compartment of the trunk that Yuri made into a false bottom. He had been smug about coming up with the idea, reminding Meemo how Varga had praised his genius anytime that Meemo voiced his doubt of Yuri's methods. Meemo would give anything to make Yuri shut up and work quietly, but at the same time, he also enjoyed hearing him cry out when it was only them.
“What a nice car,” She said jovially as she pulled up to the gray SUV next to them, at the backseat.
Meemo and Yuri exchanged looks. How had she managed to catch up to them so quickly?
She hoisted the boy from the cart into his car seat, strapping him in. They quickly put the rest of the groceries away.
“Sadis v maschinu seychas [-Get in the car now-].” Yuri uttered lowly to Meemo.
They hurried to their sides of the car; Meemo at the driver's, and Yuri waiting for her to finish strapping the boy in. She was finished, but she tucked her three grocery bags on the floor at the back. In hindsight, Meemo should have considered it would have been in Yuri's best interest to have entered the car on the side that wasn't next to her and the boy. Meemo was already seated, turning on the ignition and as the car warmed up, he buckled his seatbelt.
"What's the hurry?" She asked, chuckling as she finally closed the door, turning to appraise Yuri that was waiting to squeeze by. As soon as there was space, Yuri opened the car door slowly and climbed in. The woman got a little bit closer, almost trying to block Yuri from closing his door as he sat down. “Can’t you tell me your name?”
“Excuse us, ma’am. We’re already running late for a retirement party. So if you could kindly leave us be.” said Meemo tersely, sending her a sarcastic close-mouthed smile. Clenched his jaw a bit, leaning over Yuri to be seen through his still open car door.
“Sorry, he’s training me.” Yuri winced, waving at her as he quickly closed the door and thumbed the child safety lock on. He jerked his head to face Meemo. “Now drive fast! Vytashchite nas [-Get us out-]!”
“Shut up. I need to think.” Memo deadpanned.
He swiftly reversed the car, managing to cleanly perform the maneuver at such speed. Compared to most drivers that they’d seen in this town, Meemo might as well have been a professional. They saw how Sy carelessly rammed the hummer into another vehicle besides the old sputtering corvette in that diner parking lot. Driving away with the piece of the bumper attached. It had been clumsy and messy, a maneuver that can only be faltered when the driver wasn't completely concentrated. Personally, Meemo liked to believe that Sy’s fear of being caught was what caused him to become sloppy. Or maybe it was the whole shitty power display backfiring that made it so funny, especially seeing him blanched when that female cop dropped by.
Meemo turned them around with smooth steering, pulling them out of the parking lot for the grocery store. He glanced in the side mirror, seeing the woman getting into her car slowly as she spared a look over her shoulder at them, miffed.
“Is she going to follow us?” asked Yuri. If Meemo didn’t know any better, he would have believed that the Slav sounded scared.
Of what exactly? Meemo fought the urge to roll his eyes. He pressed on the gas as he flowed into main street traffic. There were a few cars oncoming, he eyeballed the distance and made the judgment to fluidly cut in without breaking the flow. It never stopped someone less confident in their ability from reacting in an aggressive manner. One of the drivers in question, inside a white pickup, honked at Meemo as he measured up to the speed of the Cadillac from the left lane. Looking into the driver's window, probably scowling at Meemo and shaking a middle finger at him as he mouthed every swear word under the American sun.
Meemo ignored the rush of fury. He hadn't hit their car. He'd left workable space to prevent any collisions on all sides. Why should he be responsible for someone else's lack of inefficient reaction time? Yuri leaned over Meemo, lowered the window, and pantomimed cutting the driver's head off and eating his eyeballs, then smiled and waved at him. He put the window back up.
At that point, the white pickup swerved into their lane, cutting in and out. Meemo sighed as he caught himself, taking advantage of any offered space from the left lane and bridging in at faster speed. The pickup driver hastened their speed, following him rear-to-bumper. Meemo spared Yuri a withering glance.
Yuri shrugged, pulling his cosh out from the side pocket of his car door.
“We have to get rid of the car now. We have no choice. We could be compromised if we don’t.” said Meemo flatly, driving the Cadillac slowly from the dead-end road of an industrial district.
In the back window, Meemo saw the pickup driver slowly pull himself up from the road. Blood streaming from his broken nose, too bruised and sore from the beat down to walk any faster to his pickup. He humbled until he collapsed on the gravel again.
Yuri chuckled.
About ten minutes later without any more road rage incidents and flirtatious women, Meemo pulled them into a nondescript car dealership. After a lengthy conversation with a meek salesman, they managed to convince him into giving them a maroon van with a silver ornament of a ram on the hood. Without finishing up the discussion, they transferred the groceries from the Cadillac into the van. The salesman had initially been enthusiastic about the prospect of receiving such a sleek car, believing that in its pristine condition to be almost brand new . And then, the boys indicated that they wanted to fast-track the process without paperwork and just pay the fee.
When the salesman noticed the mileage on the Cadillac, he started to fuss. That ended when Yuri smirked coyly at him with the promise of a threat, tucking some cash into the salesman’s shirt pocket along with the crumpled up paper containing the woman’s phone number. The salesman froze stiff as Yuri’s hand touched his chest.
Meemo was irritated once more.
“So, is there a problem?” asked Yuri, looking down into the salesman's eyes.
“N-no! N-no problem at all! Ha-ha! Go ahead! It’s yours!” The flustered salesman shoved the keys into Yuri’s hands, laughing nervously. “Sorry about that! You go on and have a nice day now!”
"Make problem and I come back. Okay?" Yuri smooched at him, but the salesman trembled anyway. The Slav withdrew from him, keys in hand as Meemo fell into step next to him. They paused by the front of the almost pitiful-looking van, glancing at each other.
“He won't like this.” Yuri clicked his tongue.
Meemo promptly snatched the keys from Yuri’s hand, jumping into the van.
One other concern remained on Yuri’s mind though as Meemo was driving them unhurriedly to Emmit Stussy’s residence in Eden Prairie.
"The guns, the magazines, the saws-" Yuri lamented.
"We can restock our artillery tomorrow morning." Meemo responded calmly, glancing at the small digital clock above the radio. “We are now running thirty minutes late for dinner.”
“My cosh!” cried Yuri.
Meemo nearly stopped the car.
“Ah, wait.” Yuri felt around his pockets and laughed. Relieved. “In my pocket this whole time. Sorry.”
“Fuck you. I was going to drive back.” Meemo’s hands were clenched on the wheel.
Yuri was the entire reason that they were even running late and had to be in this clusterfuck of a mess.
Meemo wanted to hate him so much, wanted to incinerate him from where he sat chuckling and holding his stupid cosh. So pleased, so relieved. Oddly though, Meemo couldn't and there was even some embarrassment when Yuri smirked at him.
“Meemo does care.” Yuri teased, daring to touch Meemo’s cheek with the object in question.
Meemo wanted to slap it from his hands.
Mostly he wanted to kiss Yuri so hard that he would be speechless for the rest of the drive.
“I’ll let that hungry woman find you.” Meemo threatened.
If it were up to Meemo though, no one would even dare to look at Yuri with anything but fear and skepticism. Much less touch him like that. Stroke his arm. Be anywhere close to his ass. Just remembering that it’d happened made the vein on Meemo’s temple pulse. His entire body pulsed with hot anger, recalling how he'd let it carry on for as long as it did. He was now realizing that he could have moved the cart away as soon as he noticed her approaching if he'd been more focused on their surroundings. Then they wouldn't have been in a hurry to leave the store. The parking lot.
They wouldn't have spent ten minutes beating up some driver with a clumpy McMuffin puddle spewing from his mouth as Yuri viciously beat him, and Meemo nodded his head as each hit landed, eyes closed, ignoring the driver's pleas and regret-filled grunts of anguish.
Then they wouldn't have been so tardy to Emmit's address, and Meemo wouldn't be feeling angry and jealous.
“Being quiet now.” Yuri emphatically nodded as he turned his head to look out the window on his side.
The vast lands were graced with inches and inches of pure-white snow.
Varga wasn’t too thrilled at their late arrival, complaining about being famished. The food was promptly prepared, the table set, and Yuri recounted the situation in Russian as the four of them ate in Emmit's empty dining hall. Their boss's exasperation started to subside. It hadn't hurt that he'd had several mouthfuls of food before the more entertaining parts of the story were spoken. He wasn't mad about the car, complimenting Meemo on his quick thinking as usual in sharp Mandarin.
Meemo watched as Emmit forced an uneasy smile on his face, understanding nothing of the conversation at his own dinner table. Yuri had been so preoccupied in his storytelling, Meemo noticed him barely touching his food. At one point after Yuri had finished, Varga reached over the table next to him on the left where Yuri sat, touching his hair. He mussed the coarse dark hair from its place over Yuri's forehead, grinning with his jagged teeth.
Smelling of sweet, sweet decay and the rank tones of stomach acid caught on the enamels. Varga laughed again, sweeping his tongue to poke out of his mouth as he looked at Yuri's hair, almost like a wolf's fur, saying something about shaving it bald to look more scary, less tempting. Less human. Then, he lowered his hand as easily, turning to Emmit with his full attention. Apologizing for their exclusion of him at his own table, asking him what he wanted to discuss as their gracious American host.
Yuri's empty grin shifted back into that blank and cold expression like someone flipping a switch to turn the lights off.