Chapter 1

October 2009

"I can't understand why he didn't allow it. I think he's being overly strict. I mean; where's the harm? I think I'm old enough to decide for myself." The brat's voice echoed from the living room and Misha couldn't help but groan, taking off his jacket in the hall.

"But do you even really know these people? I mean..." He heard his younger brother Dima asking.

"Yes, gods, they are not some perverts, Dima! You're beginning to sound like my dad." Misha rolled his eyes. Why was it that the brat was always at their house? Seriously, he had reached the point where even his voice irritated him. He kicked off his shoes, ready to go to his room, take a shower, change, and rest a bit after a long, tedious day at school.

"Yo, Vodka, you'll be cooking today!" His thoughts were interrupted by his older brother, without him even making it farther than to the hall. Another unhappy groan made it out from his mouth, couldn't Ivo do it for once? Or Dima?

"I need a fucking rest before I change into a freaking housewife, Goddammit!" he shouted back and quickly went up the stairs.

Misha, twenty-one, a university student shared a house with his two brothers, Dima who was seventeen, and Ivo thirty-one. Their parents had died six years ago in a car crash and after that Misha had moved with Dima, leaving their motherland Russia behind, to live with their eldest brother who had been working and living in Finland for over ten years.

The only thing he had complaints about was the sharing of household chores. It was almost always him who had to make dinner and though he did enjoy cooking, too much was just too much and he didn't like to be ordered around.

That was the other problem; they were just too alike with Ivo. He was gay, Ivo was bisexual and there had been times, too many times, that both of them had been attracted to the same person. The problem was that neither of them liked to give in easily.

Dima was straight, more calm-natured, and not quite as loud as his older brothers. And he had terrible taste in friends, or so it seemed to Misha.

After his brief shower and changing to more comfortable clothing, Misha returned downstairs. Again he was able to hear the voice that was slowly doing damage to his poor nerves.

And there they sat, at the living room table, working on some school project that had turned out to be Misha's great misery; the cause to bring the brown-haired boy into their house where he was forced to listen to him.

It wasn't that the sound of his voice would have been unpleasant, not at all, in fact, it was a voice one would gladly listen to. If only the boy had something more intelligent to say, that is.

But he caught him at his best, quiet, reading some notes and sucking on a pencil between his full lips. Slowly the boy's amber brown eyes looked up at him, hearing the arrival, a small smirk made its way to his face, but never did the boy take the pencil out from his luscious mouth.

"Dima, any wishes on dinner?" he asked, looking at his little brother and paying as little attention to his friend as was humanly possible.

"Anything will be fine."

"Ok, cheese soup," he nodded and continued his way into the kitchen. He shook his head as an image of the brunet boy, sucking on the pencil refused to escape from his mind.

He felt annoyed, annoyed by the fact that the brat caught his eye, annoyed to find himself thinking that the dark-haired boy was sexy, annoyed by everything that was him. Joni was vain, childish... and....well, a brat.

He started chopping the vegetables, trying to drive his thoughts into something else. At school, he had been asked out by his classmate, Mikael; ironically his namesake, only spelled differently. Luckily no one usually called him by his real name Mikhail, so it wasn't that confusing.

They had been flirting for some time now and... well, the guy was sexy, a great ass, a cute face... All in all, a guy he wouldn't mind getting to know a little better.

"Dima asked me to get something to drink for us," a voice from behind interrupted his thoughts. Misha cursed mentally, turned, and gave a short glare to young Finn.

"Cupboard, glasses," he lazily pointed. "Fridge, coke,"

"You don't talk much, do you?" the brunette asked and he could hear him moving about in the room.

"Nope," he muttered, still busy with the knife. It was true that he hadn't talked much with the boy. When he had first seen him, he had found the kid, well he did have a name too; Joni, quite attractive, but soon discovered qualities that vexed him greatly.

The brat wore expensive clothing, apparently had been booked to some model agency list and... well, the boy was good-looking and he knew it all too well and seemed that his parents had spoiled him all his life, giving him too many things that he set his mind to have. Misha, who had grown up in quite humble surroundings with his brothers, didn't much care for superficial people like that.

"Oh, Joni, I thought I heard your voice." It was Ivo, "How's the school project coming along?"

"Oh it's coming along," the cheery voice answered. "Slowly," it almost sounded like he was flirting. Somehow he always managed to sound that way.

"You remembered to make enough food for our guest as well, Misha?" Ivo asked and Misha felt glad that he had his back turned towards them, otherwise his face might have revealed too much.

"There'll be enough soup for everyone," he answered calmly. "I'll be going out anyway, so you three will have more than enough."

"Going out?" Ivo opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer, Misha glanced at him. "A date?" He asked casually and Misha gave him a silent nod.

"Oh, Joni, tell Dima that the dinner is ready soon," Ivo spoke to the brat who was about to leave the room.

"I will."

As soon as the boy was out of the room, Misha couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"He is not that bad," Ivo commented, obviously he knew him better than Misha would have liked him to. "And he has a cute butt, too."

"And the ego twice the size of our house! Ivo, that's the vainest person I've ever met," Misha muttered, throwing the vegetables into the soup. "But his butt is nice, I admit it."

"And it's said by Mr. I Don't Bottom," Ivo chuckled and Misha glared at him. "You treat your ass as if it was made out of gold."

"It's my butt, as you pointed out, so shut up," he groaned.

"Sheesh, I hope you'll get some from this ... whoever ... just remember to use a condom because you're awfully snappy lately."

"Oh, fuck off Ivo," Misha grumbled.

The dinner was ready fast and Ivo insisted that Misha would eat with them because they were a family. Misha hadn't been able but to roll his eyes and walk to his room to change into his date clothes, since he wouldn't have the time after dinner. It would take him about twenty minutes to get to the club where he'd be meeting Mikael.

After he was changed and ready he walked back downstairs and sat in front of the table to wait. Ivo called their younger brother and the brat that was his friend.

"Going out?" It was Dima who asked, "to a date?"

"Yes," he answered simply and took the first spoonful before asking; "Did you finally manage to ask out this girl ... What was her name?" he glanced sideways at him.

"Eva," Dima smiled, "yes, and we're going out on Friday."

"That's nice."

"Hm, which reminds me, Joni," Dima turned to look at his friend more closely, who in return, looked back at him with a question. "Eva's friend, Kasper, has been asking about you, he's interested." To this, the vain boy snorted, as if bored.

"Alright, Kasper who?"

"Well, her friend, the guy she always hangs around with, you know?"

"Ah, yes, him." Misha noticed him rolling his eyes and simply continuing to eat.

"So?" Dima asked.

"Oh, yeah, hm, no," The brat shook his head. "Not interested, sorry, he's too... out there, you know?"

"Oh, he'll be disappointed."

"Thinking highly of your..." Misha started but got kicked by Ivo under the table, quite hard as well. "... friends, I see," he finished, re-directing his words at Dima while reaching with his hand to mess up his hair, which his brother quickly straightened.

"Uhh, Misha, cut it out, leave my hair alone for a while." Misha laughed, noticing a pair of honey-brown eyes watching him with a frown. He felt slightly better, returned to his dinner, tempted to tell the boy, the vain, gay brat, that with an attitude like that he wouldn't go too far. Either he'd tempt someone not suitable for him, or he'd end up alone. He should lower his standards.