Mr Handsome, Will You Procreate With Me?

5

He laughs and kisses my head again before leaning down to hug Mia. Sasha and I try to distract him by asking about supper, but our questions die in the air when he pulls back a strand of Mia’s hair and sees the skull earrings that are impossible to miss.

“What the hell?” he growls in Russian, making our mom immediately look over.

“Mia, another piercing?” Our mom steps closer, eyeing the earrings and then meeting my dad’s eyes before sighing and looking back at their youngest child. “I thought we agreed that you’d just get your ears pierced for now.”

“It is just my ears,” Mia quickly says, and I swear my dad’s fighting a grin.

“One ear piercing,” our mom says.

“Did we agree on just one?” Mia looks between them. “I don’t remember that.”

Our dad examines her ears to make sure they don’t look infected. “Where was Grigori? How did you get past him?”

Mia shrugs. “I did it myself.”

Our mom lets out a heavy sigh and points a finger at our dad. “These are your genes at work here.”

He laughs and wraps an arm around her before kissing her cheek. Our dad looks between me and Mia and Sasha, a big smile on his face, making his lip ring stand out even more as he says, “Your mom’s clearly confused. Any disobedience is obviously coming from her. I’ve always been a rule follower.”

We all laugh because rule follower is the last thing that comes to mind when I look at my dad.

“It could’ve been a lot worse,” Sasha reminds them.

Our dad groans. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to think about what that could mean.” He points a finger at Mia with his other arm still securely wrapped around our mom. “No more piercings, Mia. I’m serious. No piercings or tattoos or whatever the hell you want to do that will give me grey hairs until you’re at least eighteen.”

She smiles up at him. “How old were you when you started getting piercings?”

“Not relevant, little witch” he quickly says, using the nickname she’d given herself years ago. Dad’s always called me his little princess, and when he tried to call Mia the same thing, she’d stomped her foot and insisted she was a little witch instead. I can always hear the love in his voice when he uses it.

Mia laughs. “Uncle Vitaly said you were fifteen when you got your lip pierced.”

Our dad groans. “You should never trust anything your Uncle Vitaly says.”

“So it’s not true?” Mia asks, letting out another laugh because she knows she’s got him.

“Malinkaya,” he says, using the nickname he always calls our mom, “our little wild child is asking too many questions again. What should we do with her?”

He tilts his head like he’s considering a million different punishments while our mom says, “Maybe we should make her do everyone’s laundry for two weeks.”

Mia cringes while our dad laughs. “Or maybe we’ll only allow her to wear pink for a week.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mia whispers, but she knows he’s only joking. As usual, she’s in jeans and a black T-shirt. Mia doesn’t do pastels. “I’ll take the laundry.”

Our mom laughs while our dad holds out his hand to Mia so they can shake on it. “Laundry for two weeks?”

“Agreed,” she says, and we all know it’ll be done. We may joke around and Mia might like to bend the rules and Sasha may like to fight, but if we give our word on something, it’s a done deal.

While our dad gets a drink from the fridge, our mom cups Mia’s face and kisses her forehead. “Please don’t pierce yourself again. I don’t want you getting an infection and having your ears fall off.”

Mia smiles and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I won’t pierce my earlobes again on my own.”

We all know Mia is very precise in her promises. All she’s agreed to do is not add another hole in her earlobes, the rest of her body is fair game.

“Anywhere, Mia,” our mom says. “I can’t stand the thought of you shoving a needle through your lip or eyebrow. I realize piercings are in your blood,” my mom says, giving our dad a pointed look. He smiles and winks at her. “But please wait a few more years. We promise that if you still want them when you turn eighteen, we’ll drive you to have them done ourselves.”

Mia considers it. “How about I won’t pierce myself again, at all, anywhere, if you agree that you’ll take me when I’m seventeen to get a nose ring?”

When our parents look to one another and hesitate, Mia adds, “Come on, it’s just a nose ring, and I’ll agree to wait until I’m seventeen.”

I can tell our dad doesn’t care, but he waits until our mom says, “Okay, I can agree to that,” before he smiles and says, “Sounds good to me.”

Satisfied, Mia goes back to eating her chips while I grab a yogurt from the fridge. Sasha finishes his coke, but before he can throw it away, our dad grabs his hand.

“Another fight?”

Our dad’s eyes run over Sasha, looking for any signs that he might’ve gotten hurt. Sasha can’t hide his smile when he says, “He’s a couple years older than me and couldn’t even get a punch in.”

Before he can decide if he’s mad or not, our dad asks, “Why’d you do it?”

Sasha shrugs. “The guy was a jerk. Niki was focused on his phone, not paying any attention, and the guy tripped him. Niki wanted to fight him, but I held him back. He’s a good fighter, but this guy’s a senior and outweighed Niki by a good fifty pounds. I knew I could take him, so I did.”

Most dads would lecture about how fighting is wrong and how you should never do it unless it’s an absolute last resort, but most dad’s aren’t Bratva bosses either. Our dad squeezes Sasha’s shoulder and gives a soft laugh. Family is everything, and there’s no better reason to get your hands bloody than to do it protecting your younger cousin.

“Just be careful, son. You know that damn pretentious school doesn’t allow bodyguards on the property, but they’re always waiting close by, so you text them if you need them, and don’t ever underestimate anyone in a fight.”

“I know,” Sasha says. “I remember everything you taught me, Dad.”

Our dad can’t help but give a proud grin.

“Wow, can you girls still breathe with all the testosterone in the room?” our mom asks us, waving her hand in the air like she’s trying to clear a path for some fresh oxygen.

Our dad laughs and walks over to her, easily picking her up and making her laugh as she wraps her arms around his neck. He whispers something in her ear that I’m glad I can’t hear and then smacks her ass.

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