Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ My Happy Ending ❯ ...In A City So Dead ( Chapter 18 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Things are realized
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.04.2005 | Pages: 7 | Words: 10.1K | Visits: 411 | Status: Completed
Things are realized
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.04.2005 | Pages: 7 | Words: 10.1K | Visits: 411 | Status: Completed
Disclaimers Apply Here: Manga-Chick does NOT own any part of Static Shock...no matter what she thinks.
Shampoo: Er, I am not sure what you meant by that...'hooed'...>.<
Tri: Yay! You read it! And you are...disgusted. By everyone! (huggles) I wanted to make everyone somewhat different than I usually worked them with, and, in a way, I am satisfied with what I've done. XD Thanks for commenting on this to me...
I'm_Alive: um...is it because of...Rudy? Or...cuz...it's so long? Heh...(kicks story)
Don't worry, all! It's almost over! XD
Chapter Eighteen:
...In A City So Dead
“Since I’m not going to be home for awhile, keep an eye on him, ‘k?”
Ivan rolled his eyes, pushing a candy bar across the counter with the tip of his pen. Work hours were growing longer and longer the more bored he felt. He kept thinking about last night–hating himself for enjoying that Francis was away, and could be for a considerable amount of time. He had thought briefly of his husband, and hated himself for wanting to delve more into physical intimacies with him.
That night they’d shared still had him waking up with sticky boxers. Not that he’d automatically turned gay since fucking Richie. He’d just kept thinking about that night and realizing how much he’d lost since then. He hadn’t fallen in love with him; just since he’d gotten to know him on that level, he noticed him a lot more than he used to.
And Ivan Evans was NOT happy about that.
“You want me to fuckin’ baby sit?” he then asked in annoyance, exhaling loudly. “I ain’t fuckin’ baby sitting! Fuck! Last night don’t fuckin’ mean nothin’ to you?”
“Man, just–! When fuckers start hearin’ that I’m all up in jail, you fuckin’ KNOW they’re gonna come around the house, sniffing for ass or looking for fuckin’–revenge! You know that!”
“Ah, yes...cuz the bitch is magic...” Ivan snorted, then laughed out loud. Several customers looked over at him in terror, eyes shooting around themselves, expecting trouble.
He ignored them.
“...Wha...?” Francis apparently didn't hear the part of his husband being 'magic'.
“Nothin’. Just...fuck. I don’t fuckin’ want to waste my time–”
“C’mon, Ivan, please! He’ll fuckin’ prolly hang around with Virgil an’ all that, but when he’s home alone–c’mon, man. You KNOW that the fucker gets into trouble all the time! ‘Member that trip I had to take outta town? Last November?”
Ivan immediately thought of that, wincing. The urge to smoke was great, and was hampered only in that he was working and had used up his breaks.
“An’–those fuckin’ kids that tried to rob the place, an’ he was the only one there?”
Ivan sighed, flicking the pen away from him.
“And that psycho head trip that was convinced Rich was a fuckin’ reincarnation of whatever an’ was tryin’ to fuckin’ sacrifice him when I left Dakota for some training? I swear to God, he can’t stay outta trouble for very long. It always seems to happen whenever I ain’t wit’ him. Ivan, please!!!”
“...That was pretty funny.”
“IVAN!”
“Fine, fuck! Just...I ain’t havin’ it if he starts shit. If he starts shit–!”
“THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I already talked to him, he won’t start any trouble. FUCK! This is why we ain’t havin’ any kids cuz Rich is already, like, a fuckin’ kid, an’ I gotta call around for a fuckin’ babysitter whenever I’m not there!”
Ivan could hear his exasperation, and lazily twirled about in his swiveling chair. A pretty honey appeared at the counter with a strong waft of perfume and belly-bearing clothing, so Ivan put the phone down and spent considerable time attending to her needs. By the time she was done, putting extra jiggle in her step, Francis had long since hung up.
He shrugged, kicking angrily at the counter as he stared up at the ceiling. He really wasn’t in the mind for babysitting, but Francis had been right about Richie never staying out of trouble for very long. It must be something about him that inspired every crook in the city to try and snatch at him. For either his questionable friendship with Static, or because of Francis. It was really a toss-up that garnered more lame excuses–there was always an enemy eager to bring the superhero down through Richie, or someone that wanted the same excuse to get back at Francis.
The boy was a lightening rod for trouble.
Things had calmed considerably whenever Francis was around–but it seemed the moment others realized the redhead was away, trouble happened to slip in, and it was either Static to the rescue, or, by some miracle, the blond pulling himself from trouble.
This unexpected trip to jail was publicized in the evening news–even if he hadn’t been causing trouble since prison, he was still infamous for his past dealings as a ‘villain’. Francis had spent some time cursing about that, and that was what brought up the babysitting expectations.
Ivan sighed heavily, dropping his head for a brief moment. He’d taken out his cornrows, as they’d been pulled and mussed, and his usual stylist had complained about doing them so soon after the last disaster. So he’d made an emergency appointment for a teenaged girl that would do them out of the salon. She wasn’t expected to show up until later that night, but it appeared Ivan would have to wait another day.
Scowling, he leaned over the counter once more and frowned at the sight of a man slinking around in an aisle nearby. Something tickled at the back of his neck at that, but he ignored it, leaning onto his palm and watching him with a bored expression.
Later on, he managed to convince Shiv and the others to come along with him. Not for extra security, but because Ivan didn’t want to tempt himself for falling prey to the blond’s charms. Even if he thought about it a lot, he didn’t want to act on those temptations.
They were walking away from the record shop, and heading towards a convenience store for beer. Jason would be the ones driving them in his Explorer.
“Aw, man, no way!” Shiv exclaimed, not liking the idea. “Big Red knew I had a date, tonight!”
Ivan gave him a mock sad expression, Shiv scowling angrily as he huffed, jamming his hands into his DC labeled sweater pockets.
“That’s it! Because I’m missin’ out on tits and ass tonight, I’m gonna be selfish and order up a TON of food and have it delivered and make him pay for it.”
Jason, on a rare moment of being away from his sister, clapped his hands suddenly. “Isn’t this the same guy that gets into trouble all the time? That has all these bustas tryin’ to move in all of a sudden the moment F-Stop’s away? I kinda remember that last time when we got there, and there were fuckin’ ninjas all over the damn place.”
“Or that fuckin’ time when there were these guys from church wanting to lynch him for being fag!” Shiv laughed.
“Or that time when he ordered in pizza and it turned out to be this super lethal government agent that was all convinced he was some sorta Bang Baby!”
“Or that time when Ebon tried to–oh. Oops. No bad feelings, Ivan....”
“...Fuck you both.”
The pair of them laughed uproariously, Ivan scowling as he struggled not to remember that certain time.
“Eh....I guess we go over and see what’s up,” Shiv then decided, as if it were his decision all along. “Just...kinda...it’s been awhile since I got to doin’ something. So...I might be a little outta shape.”
“If that beer gut of yours ain’t ‘outta shape’, then I dunno what is.” Jason commented, giving mentioned anatomy a dubious glance.
“Don’t be hatin’ on the love machine.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “Seriously gotta find a new crew to hang out with...”
“You can’t do that!” Shiv cried, leaping onto his back, making him curse. “We’re like brothers! If you separate us, we’ll die! Who else we gonna follow when we obviously don’t have the brains to fend for ourselves?”
“Speak for yourself, man,” Jason muttered, giving him a scowl.
“Get off me,” Ivan growled, shoving the overexcited Asian away from him. Shiv merely laughed, straightened his shirt, then suddenly dashed off, whooping. Ivan gave Jason a steady look. “Don’t be givin’ him no mo’ sugar. Both of them would be all hyped up an’ around the house like nothin’.”
“Just kids, man...kids...” Jason then gave a scoffing expression as he ran his hands over his newly shorn locks. Shiv was two years older than he, but the Asian had the over excitement of a preteen on sugar. “Damn, man. This guy can’t be THAT much trouble tonight, eh? Ain’t like they got THAT many enemies nowadays...”
“Nah...prolly the only thing we gotta worry about is that sucka from last night.” In a way, Ivan hoped that Joe Lyons would bother them. Francis had been steaming about the built ‘gym-fag’ since the encounter in the parking lot, and Ivan fed off those feelings, giving him some aggression that he felt he deserved.
“Yeah...truth...”
SS.SS.SS.SS.SS .SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.
Richie cringed, crying out anxiously as firm teeth settled over his right nipple. An explosion of pain sent his body jolting upwards, smacking with a fleshy thud against Daniel’s as conflicting merges of pressure closed over the nub. He clawed apprehensively at his shoulders as the jagged edges of his teeth began to gnaw against his skin, piercing the soft flesh and making him squeal with almost mindless abandon. Daniel’s teeth sank through, blood immediately welling up in protest to the action, and the squeal turned into an abrupt scream. Hungrily, Daniel slurped the liquid into his mouth and settled his weight firmly over the struggling body underneath him.
He then laughed softly, removing his mouth from the ravaged area, his tongue snaking out to taste the traces of blood around his lips.
“Your tits taste really good, man,” he said with joy, nodding his head firmly.
He then inhaled deeply, smelling the thick, coppery smell of the blood he’d just spilt, and the strong scent of his urine. Much earlier, when he’d started the battle, he’d taken the time to pin the blond down and settled over him to empty his bladder over him. Daniel had laughed in delight over the retching mess his victim made, trying in vain to cover his face. Unaffected by his own bodily fluids, Daniel had taken considerable time to smear the smelly golden liquid into his skin and face, until the both of them were covered in the fluid, the blankets smeared and soaked with the distinguishing scent.
His eyes narrowed, flicking over to the other nipple with thoughtful decision. It was already swollen and irritated, cracked by violent treatment of earlier progress. He had been teething on it, enjoying the panicked cries and screams before moving onto the next.
“But I need to see and make sure...”
He started to lower his head once more, but quickly changed direction, chomping down fiercely on Richie’s neck when the blond’s hands flew into his face. He managed to apply enough force over his windpipe when a determined thumb poked at his right eye. Squeezing with alarming violence, he felt Richie choke and convulse beneath him, that hand shifting from his face to push wildly at his mouth.
Daniel lifted his head with another joyous cackle, nipping painfully over his shoulder as his hands shifted, fingers digging into Richie’s ribs. He punched a tender spot, made that way from earlier, when he had to show the blond who was in charge. He relished the stiffening of the body beneath him, and shifted quickly, biting down hard on the other nipple and hearing Richie scream again.
His fingers danced over the pained spasms that racked his body, savoring the reaction that was given to him. He had torn off the blond’s shirt earlier, then had worked on his pants, but the blond was proving stronger than he looked. Daniel had only managed to undo the button and wiggle some of that material down, with enough room for him to work with.
They moved even lower, over the exposed pubis, then lower, through the waistband of his underwear. He groped with the intention of inflicting pain, twisting and pulling, laughing at the squelched sounds of terrorized anguish.
“This is what thinks for you,” Daniel hissed, pulling hard on his penis and then drinking in the scream of the after result. Daniel gave one of his own when his tongue was bitten, and he released his crotch, to punch his exposed stomach with a maniacal cackle. “That’s what’s going to get you into trouble! Messing with the wrong person! There are others that want to hurt you, that wanna punish you for being addicting! They just never act on it! They are fools, they are wimps–! Here, I will act for them! For all those that love you and hate you, for punishing them for being attracted!”
Daniel gave an enraged scream at the heel that connected with his lower gut, and as he exhaled soundly, feeling his throat erupt with dry retches, Richie kicked at his exposed face, catching him with just enough force to pull up his pants and underwear.
Daniel dropped dead weight onto him, crushing him briefly, and the pair struggled against each other, each movement made out of desperation and malice. Through it all, Daniel panted and laughed in that mad way, as if delighted by every intrepid move Richie made in trying to escape.
Growling with the thrill of the domination, he shoved the blond back down onto the bed, and started punching him repeatedly. He couldn’t land any with Richie’s arms fiercely moving about, blocking almost every one.
He paused during one instance, looking over at the shirt that he’d torn off of him earlier, and groped for that, using his other hand to keep him pinned. It took a few minutes, but he managed to turn Richie over onto his stomach, tying his arms behind him with the shirt.
Both panted heavily, resting for that moment, Daniel shaking his hair out of his face. He shifted, turning around so that he could lay himself over Richie’s back, looking down at his profile with some concern. He then made “Sshing” sounds as he stroked his reddened cheek, laughing when Richie turned his face into the mattress to avoid that touch. Daniel roughly shoved him onto his back, shoving his hand into his mouth, to try and grab his tongue. He gave a scream when Richie bit him, jerking his hand out from his mouth with a quick action.
Daniel laughed, tossing his head, then choked at the abrupt punch he received against his throat. At the relinquishing of position, Daniel tilting back as he struggled to gasp in air, Richie surged upward to push him off the bed and into the floor, the torn shirt falling from his wrists.
Daniel immediately changed shape, snarling fiercely as Richie tore from the room in panicked haste. It didn’t take long to subdue the blond once more, tackling him to the carpet and clamping his teeth over the back of his neck. Both of them were panting hard, Daniel emitting a low growl from deep within his throat as he held him tightly to the floor. When he felt the blond move, he tightened his hold and shifted to indicate the easy breaking of his neck.
Richie paused, but only slightly, his hand clawing upward. His index finger found the fragile globe of Daniel’s right eye, and the puncture was quick and efficient. Daniel screamed, jerking upward and away from him, clawed hands slapping against his face in horror. Richie darted back to his feet, slapping the counter for his car keys as the werewolf continued to scream with utter fury and pain.
He glanced back with terror, sucking in a quick inhale of breath when he registered the heavy dark form darting at him.
Daniel slammed into him with no holding back, and the wall protested the action immediately. Teeth snapped, Richie screaming in reaction as his hands pushed at his snout, battling against the snarling creature.
He managed to dig one of his fingers into Daniel’s nostrils, and he jabbed inward, as deeply as he could in that instant. Daniel reacted with another pained yowl, leaping backward, sneezing and cursing repeatedly. Richie then rolled back onto his feet, reaching for the door when it flung open, smacking him in the face and knocking him senseless.
Daniel whirled, one eye widening with surprise, the other destroyed as he watched Ivan, Shiv and Jason walk in. Everyone either gaped in horror, or screamed in surprise upon viewing the monstrous animal that seemed to dominate the small area.
Shiv, the screamer, ducked behind Ivan while Jason just gaped, Ivan’s face screwed up with immense surprise. Daniel snorted, then sneezed, blood speckling over the carpet. He fell onto all fours, then snarled viciously, snapping his teeth in their direction as he started advancing toward them. They all leapt back, shouting in horror, pulling the door shut while Richie groaned at the impact he’d made with the opening door, fingers curled over his currently bleeding nose.
Daniel turned to him, growling low, his head tilted to the side as he eyed him with hateful mistrust.
Richie quickly whirled onto his backside, facing him, his keys shaking wildly in his hand as he held them up like a weapon.
“Whore!” came the mixture of sounds, blood speckling the air. The oozy drippings of his ruined eye settled over his fur, oozing to the carpet. The other was widened with fury. “You’ll get yours! Soon enough!”
Richie stared at him for a few seconds, then shook his head tightly. “Not from you!”
Daniel snapped at that, and both of them looked back at the door opening, this time Jason holding out a nine millimeter, Ivan following suit with a Magnum. Shiv welded one of the flower pots, but he held it over his head menacingly. Daniel stared at them in hateful regard, then turned, bounding away to slam through the glass patio door, emerging out into the backyard, disappearing from sight.
Shiv lowered the flowerpot from his head, looking over as Jason pulled the door back, revealing the bloodied and battered blond as he trembled violently against the wall. Ivan hurried over to investigate the sliding door, Jason caught between both as he settled within the center of the living room.
“Shit, blondie, we leave you alone for not even a day, an’ you’re already getting into trouble!” Shiv said with some amusing affection. “Big Red was always commenting on that sorta shit! Here, wanna shirt? Man, you all bloody.”
“What the fuck was that?” Jason cried suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Someone’s big honkin’ cat? Dunno.” Despite his earlier repugnance, Shiv took off his first shirt, and hurriedly pulled it over Richie’s head, murmuring all the while when he realized that the blond was still quite shocked and dazed.
Richie shot to his feet, stumbling away as Shiv caught his footing after being shoved. All three looked after him in silence, then flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut.
With a sense of numb detachment, Richie surveyed the bedroom that reeked of various odors, and wiped at his dripping nose.
“You in there, man?! You okay?!” he heard Shiv shout, pounding on the door. It sounded as if he were kicking it, as well.
Every one of his limbs locked into place–pain bloomed and registered then, and he started shaking violently.
“Y-yeah!” he called, his voice shaking, cracking as he pulled the blankets off the mattress. Urine and blood splattered the sheets, and it took all he had left not to erupt into hysterics. He started vomiting, crouching against the bed with an arm over his stomach as he emptied his stomach’s contents onto the floor. His hands shot to his hair and clenched until he realized it was dried in tangles from urine.
The pounding stopped.
“You...you alive? Are you okay?”
Gasping for breath, Richie stared at the multi-colored mess he made...realizing that he had to change.
“I’m just...I’m just going to take a shower,” he called out, his voice trailing off with a faint after trace of horror. He stood shakily, his knees feeling as if they were going to give out. Staggering, he made his way to the bathroom and locked himself inside.
His insides felt numb with horror and disbelief–his outside feel shredded by all that had been done to him. He could feel all the teeth marks, the punches–but all of it, he felt, all of it was caused by his ego.
Because he’d wanted to be desired; wanted the attention. The games that he played with others to get that attention was what had left him cocky and crafty. And because of it, he’d met the wrong person, and made the wrong choice. Joe had turned out more different than he’d thought–he’d never given thought that the brunette would have been so vehement in his feelings for him. Never thought he’d race out of control just to start a scene.
And Daniel–well, that was his mistake entirely. He couldn’t remember his thinking into why he’d even begun charming him.
Richie began to believe that he’d let his ego take over his common sense. He wasn’t sure how long he took–just that he’d blanked out the moment the water started running red around his feet.
By the time he’d come to, he had the bed stripped and was dressed in Francis’ clothes. The need for his comforting presence and strength was strong, and he shoved his hands against his mouth to quell the rising hysterics that hit him, then. He sank to the floor and leant against the bed, sobbing hysterically into his hands, struggling to be quiet, before anybody heard him. He wasn’t sure why he lost control–perhaps the incident with Daniel and the loss of Francis for this temporary time suddenly just hit him.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and he quickly reigned in his cries, sniffling and hiccuping loudly. He pressed a pillow against his face to muffle those sounds, as well.
“What?” he barked, once he was sure he could talk.
“What you doin’ in there?”
He stilled at Ivan’s voice, then felt the shaking began anew. He needed Francis at that moment–needed him so much that it literally pained his insides. He dashed tears away with his hands and struggled to compose himself.
“Nothing,” he called out, rising shakily. “Nothing. Don’t you guys have an apartment of your own to go to?”
He heard a muffled curse of annoyance, something about ‘babysitting’. Heard the floor shift as Ivan moved about. But he’d never been so thankful for their presence as he was at that moment. He rose from the floor, gathering all the ruined sheets into his arms. They were rank–the odor of piss was strong, and he dropped it, retching violently.
He wiped his mouth, catching his breath. “Can you...can you bring me some....some plastic trash bags? Please?”
He heard another muffled curse, but Ivan walked away from the door. He waited against the bed, and heard the sound of the black man’s steps, and the rustling of bags. He rose from the floor and quickly opened the door, snatching the bags and slamming the door shut before Ivan could really look at him. He quickly bagged the sheets, tightening the ends fiercely, then gathered them all up into his arms.
“Are the others here?” he asked through the door.
“Nope. Went out for food...what are you–?”
Richie quickly opened the door, shoving past him to head outside. He heard Ivan follow, sensing the befuddled expression on his face. He headed over to the grill, and tossed one of the bags onto it. When he couldn’t find the lighter, groping angrily around the brick setting, he looked over at Ivan. The eldest Evans gave a small yelp when Richie groped his pockets for a lighter, finding one, then turning away to start burning at the gathered blankets. The fire started slowly, and Ivan looked over at him with some consideration, standing in silence beside him. It took awhile, but by the time the last bag burned steadily amidst the ashes of those that had burned before it, Richie looked over at Ivan.
“I forfeit,” he said quietly, meeting his eyes. “You win. No more games.”
Ivan stared at him in silence, considering his words. His eyes flicked over to the burning bags, and narrowed with considerable thought.
Richie shook his head tightly. “I can’t...I can’t play with people. Not...not anymore. I was wrong. I encouraged it. And it...it just brought me...trouble.”
The finality of those words hit Ivan like a low blow. Suddenly, he realized what it meant–the burning of those sheets, the attitude. In a way, disappointment flooded him like a cold wave–numbing his limbs. In another, intense feelings of bewilderment and puzzled curiosity followed.
“...Francis–?”
“Please don’t tell him,” Richie said quickly, turning pleading eyes to him. For a few moments, the pair of them stared at each other. “He doesn’t need to know. About...about anything. I...I learned my lesson...”
Ivan felt his brow drop with intense puzzlement. It had to involve the thing they had just scared off. It had to. But he had no idea what it meant, and, truthfully, he didn’t want to. The thought was just too obscene.
But he had to count out other instances to have caused this decision. It couldn’t have been him–he hadn’t felt anything telltaling from Francis. He immediately thought of Joe, and how the man may have done something more in retaliation.
“Joe–?”
“It wasn’t Joe. It was...someone I shouldn’t have...but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m going to stop. Everything. And that means I forfeit. I...I’m sorry I fucked with you in that manner. I shouldn’t’ve.”
Ivan took the lighter that was held out at him. With some quiet consideration, he realized how stiffly Richie was moving. The blond looked back at the remnants of the burning sheets, and Ivan put the lighter away, licking his lips.
He cleared his throat. “You need to go to the hospital?”
Richie looked at him, his eyes coasting over him for several seconds. Then he shook his head. “No...but thank you. For...offering.”
Ivan didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged, looking away. A few minutes later, Richie headed back inside without saying anything more, and Ivan watched the last of the flames flicker away within the grill.
SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.
Eustacio heard the scream of outrage from Rudy before he heard the mutt bark something obscene. He hurried in as fast as he could, limping, seeing that Rudy was crouched before the metahuman, prodding at something that he couldn’t see.
“Who did this?” Rudy cried, holding Danny in place, examining the damage done to him. “Who did this? Fuck! It–it stopped bleeding, at least, but you ain’t–fuck! Fuck, man! Fuck! Someone----! Someone took out his fuckin’ eye, man!”
Eustacio looked over with some horror and surprise, to see that the globe was completely missing from his right eye. That tendrils dangled from the open orifice, and blood had caked completely within the available space. The metahuman was moving in drugged circles, obviously off balance. Bits of its fur was matted with blood, and there were wood splinters embedded within his hands. He was obviously disoriented with the lack of equilibrium and pain. For a moment, Eustacio felt a secret glee.
“What happened to you?” Rudy continued to cry, trying to draw out answers from the panting meta. The creature didn’t answer–merely curled up on the floor to rest its matted head upon its paws, licking feverishly at a blooded nail.
Rudy rose from the floor, practically trembling in anger. Eustacio looked from him to the animal, then cringed with noticeable shock as the elder Sedano kicked Danny. The werewolf cried out in surprise, darting up from the floor and slinking away from him, whining and growling as Rudy chased at him. The moment the older Sedano had cornered the animal against the wall, he kicked him again.
“Who the fuck were you messing with?” he shouted, fiercely.
Another kick landed on Danny’s ribs, and Eustacio followed, hobbling carefully as he realized that Danny was taking the abuse. Howling and whining, but taking it.
He had to shake his head in disbelieving exasperation. He didn’t stick around to hear anymore. Just went about his business with the worn baseball bat to terrorize the pits in their cages.
They were walking back home, breathing in the chilly air as Rudy fumed. Eustacio was doing his best to keep up, but his hip was really sore. He didn’t dare ask his older brother to slow down.
“I can’t believe this!” Rudy suddenly howled, startling the youngest Sedano. Dogs began to bark in surprise, and somebody gave a sarcastic reply from one of the alleys. “Why are so many people willing to fuck with us? What the fuck did we do to other people?”
Eustacio wasn’t about to answer, rolling his eyes as he continued on his way.
“I don’t know what the fuck Danny-boy was doin’! What the fuck was he doin’ to do that?!”
“Ain’t like you care, man,” Eustacio muttered. “You just treat him like a fuckin’ pet...”
“...The meaning of the thing is that someone is fucking with me!” Rudy shouted, then hurried to catch up, shoving his brother. “Anybody fucks with my family, fucks with my–with my fuckin’ pets?! They fucking with me in actual reality!”
Eustacio had to laugh, shaking his head in pity as he continued walking. “You stupid, man. Just plain stupid.”
“...Wonder who the fuck it was that fucked up Danny-boy. Now I gotta wait for him to get all healed before makin’ him do other things. Fuck. Fuck! I wanted to move in on Ivan, today, man! I had a guy on him! Word was, Stone’s bitch was all alone, too. Fuck! Fuck...maybe I can still do it...I mean... get to Stone later. Like...well, fuck he’s probably gonna be in there for a while, anyway. May as well as do it, now.”
“Why you gotta be that way?” Eustacio complained, but kept his voice down as they started to enter the residential area. They were five blocks away from where they lived.
“...what?”
“Why you gotta–? Fuck. Ivan an’ nem are probably all armed, anyway. He don’t stick with himself too much.”
“So? I got guys.”
“Still...just...fuck. Leave it alone.”
“I can’t!” Rudy gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t you understand the rules?! I’m the man of the house, the eldest! I’m runnin’ this fuckin’ crew, I’m gettin’ all this street cred–it’s like a RULE to watch over what’s mine! And whenever someone fucks with what’s mine, I gotta go and fix it! Like what mom used to do when fuckers like you fucked up in school. Gotta fix what’s mine.”
“Christ...you’re so fuckin’ stupid, Rudy. Man...”
“Fuck you. Fuck you. You don’t get it, why you still in the family, huh? Cuz me and momma’s always lookin’ out for you. Fuck you, I hate you, man. You’re the fuckin’ baby of the damn family, and you all fuckin’ retarded and don’t get stuff. Fuckin’ stay there in your little world and don’t come out, man. Til you understand what it’s like to be a fuckin’ man and handle your business.” Rudy looked at him in disgust, then hurried on ahead.
Eustacio bent, picked up a rock, and flung it after him. “Fuck you, man!”
Muttering low to himself, he sighed and continued hobbling.
SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.
That next morning, Ivan heard the cell ringing off in the back bedroom. With a low groan, he wiped his eyes and pushed up from the couch. He remembered belatedly that Richie could sleep like the dead, and that part of his duties included waking him up. Staggering over several sleeping bodies (Shiv had called for back-up, not wanting to deal with an overlarged mutt on their own), Ivan headed into the back bedroom. He spied the ringing cell on the floor, frowning as he glared with irritation at the sleeping form on the stripped bed.
He bent, picking up the ringing cell, staring at the unfamiliar number on the LCD window. He ran his fingers through his ‘fro, and answered with irritation. The caller immediately hung up, and he cursed, slinging another glare at the blond. Tossing the phone aside, he glanced around himself, unsure of how he was to proceed with this.
He then remembered that it was Sunday–Richie had nothing to do on a Sunday, but because Ivan was awakened by his cell and by the notification of his duties, he wasn’t going to let the blond rest.
He headed into the bathroom, used the toilet, then filled a cup full of cold water from the sink. With a low snort, he padded back into the bedroom and upended the contents over Richie’s face.
The sputtering and enraged roars of discomfort were well worth Ivan’s trouble. He smirked before tossing the cup away and heading back out into the front room to grab some more shut eye.
Later that morning, Richie was grumbling angrily to himself as he waited for Danielle Stone to meet him at the appointed clinic in downtown Dakota. He wanted to know what unGodly soul decided that clinics had to be open on Sundays. Not really one to dwell on his misfortunes in the weird and unexpected (so used to it after so long), he forced himself to focus on Danielle’s visit with the gyno and have herself approved for birth control.
The unruly sister-in-law, never shy with her hate and dislike of him, arrived with boyfriend twenty minutes after the time that they’d agreed to meet. She’d been trying to call him all morning, she’d complained, and was going to tell her brother that some man had answered his cellphone instead of him.
When it looked as if she were truly enjoying herself with that, Richie rolled his eyes.
Her boyfriend was dressed in Playa colors, making Richie groan at the sight of him.
“What’s up, man?” the boy addressed him, as if he already knew him. And, as Richie looked at him, he probably did. One of the many faces that had come around before Francis issued the no visitors rule at the house. “Heard your man was in prison?”
“Don’t talk to him,” Dani muttered, giving Richie an evil onceover. “He might give you something gay.”
Richie grit his teeth as the boyfriend looked at him with sympathy, following after the much larger girl.
“Your sister reminds me of you when you were younger–just female,” he growled into his cellphone halfway into the visit. He and the boyfriend, Dale, were waiting outside, as the clinic proved quite crowded with sick children, pregnant teens and angry men that took up all the chairs. Francis had called at a merciful time. John Knoxson knew of Richie’s hapless adventures, and had granted him use of his own cellphone so that the redhead could check up on his husband daily.
“She givin’ you shit?”
“I not tattling, or anything...”
“Ivan with you?”
“No. Why would he be?”
“...No reason. Just...”
“Francis. I can take care of myself. I am grown. I do not need a fucking babysitter while you’re away! I hate when you make me out to be some hapless house fuck that can’t even do his own grocery shopping!”
“...Last February.”
Richie groaned with an exasperated eye roll, walking away from Dale as he started pacing the length of the parking lot. “That was a fucking coincidence! How the hell was I supposed to know a bunch of CIA agents were tailing me for some wacky tale of me possessing psychic powers?”
“April of the year before that.”
“Who knew there was a Harley Davidson ninja faction?!”
“October.”
“It wasn’t my fault mad scientist people were convinced I was pregnant with some set of alien quintuplets just because I'd gained a few pounds!”
“And...grand-daddy of all things, love, September of the year before that.”
“...I apologized for the invasion of midget sock snatchers, ALL RIGHT?! How was I supposed to know that I offended their alien leader by taking his fuckin’ parking spot?!”
“...And...? This is why you need someone with you at all times.”
“...I hate you.”
“Baby, I love you. I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of while I’m stuck here. I can’t stand the thought of you being the plot point of some stupid fuck’s agenda, man.”
Richie rolled his eyes again, shaking his head as he kicked aimlessly at a row of sad summer flowers within a rotted section of sidewalk decoration. “I can’t help that. All right? I can’t help that everyone thinks I’m so fuckin’ important to someone’s plans!”
“Heh. So, anyway...that’s why I got Ivan to...erm, hang out with you.”
“I don’t like hanging out with Ivan. If I have to listen to another one of his threats just because I happen to like the smell of my farts–!”
“Rich! Don’t be startin’ any shit with him. Okay? He’s an okay guy if you give him a chance.”
“‘Okay guy’? Franny! This same ‘okay guy’ used to kidnap me when we were younger! Do I have to remind you how many times I’d been handcuffed and tied and roped and stuck together like some–”
“Do you have to talk dirty, baby? All that talk is making me horny.”
“...I’m hanging up on you, you bastard.”
Francis laughed softly, but Richie had to crack a smile. Despite himself, he felt his eyes well up with tears, thinking about yesterday’s incident with Daniel. As if suddenly brought on by this reminder, his wounds began to throb and sting painfully, and he rubbed softly against one of the bite marks on his chest.
“Look...babe...I just...I’m sorry. I don’t want to be in here. I’d rather be out there with you. You know, all this time in here is just–it’s making me think about how fuckin’ stupid I was. Takin’ it all for granted. I’d rather be yelling at you for spending on stupid stuff than hearing shit about being back in prison, again.”
Richie reflected on that. He certainly didn’t miss that aspect. But his husband was feeling lonely and lost in jail, so he sympathized. “...I miss that, too.”
“I don’t wanna go for five years, babe,” Francis continued with on a soft whine, somehow making Richie smile again. “I spent my time in that place. I don’t want to do that. I’ve been fuckin’ good all this fuckin’ time, an’ I mess up just once? It’s not fair. I fuckin’ hate this! Fuck, all the things I took for granted are just–they’re all I think about. I miss having to spend hours waking you up. I miss having you beside me. I miss you. I think this might do us some good, anyway. Kinda...it kinda makes me look back at what I’d been...like, forgettin’ all this time.”
Richie didn’t know what to say to that–just inhaled deeply of the cool morning air and took a seat at the edge of the flower box.
“Kinda...when I get out...I dunno. Let’s...I dunno, think about marriage counseling, or something.”
“...What? Why?” Richie suddenly felt apprehensive about the subject, guilt welling at his gut with all the strength of a fist.
“Cuz...I dunno...I still feel–uppity about you bein’ with other people. An’ I know you do, too. An’...I dunno...it might help us. I want us to be fixed. We got years, man. Years. I don’t want to be givin’ up on that. People said we weren’t gonna last cuz we’re so different, but me an’ you–we’re a lot a like. And...I don’t wanna lose that. I don’t.”
“...All this time in jail’s making you think that, Francis?” Richie asked, wrinkling his brow as he realized how sentimental his husband’s voice came across.
“...Well...yeah. I mean...that’s all I gotta think about in here. Can’t...can’t really think of anything else...I miss you, babe. A lot. It’s gonna be hard, cuz I’ll be missing you a lot back in there.”
“...Maybe you won’t have to go, Francis. Maybe something will come up. Maybe...if I talk to him–”
“Don’t you fuckin’ talk to him, Rich! What, you fuckin’ stupid?! Don’t fuckin’ encourage him! Don’t do that shit!”
“Sheesh, sorry, I was just saying–!”
“Well, DON’T. Don’t talk to him.” Francis sighed heavily over the phone, and Richie picked at his shoes, sullenly trying not to feel down about the entire thing. He really did want his husband back. He really did miss him.
Last night had been a real eye-opener.
Messing with the wrong person had landed them both into a great deal of pain. He had realized that his selfishness and his desire to be desired had led them to where they were today. Mainly because of his own mistake.
And Francis had done a lot of things that had pulled at Richie’s wariness of his promises–he had cut down on a lot of the things that had made Richie want to leave him. He had been trying. And he had been trying for a lot longer than he had, before. In a way, realizing this and having Francis away from him made him do a lot more thinking about the situation as well. He had thought he’d be happy for Francis to be gone–but instead, it was the opposite.
He wanted to fix things; make them better again. He thought immediately of Ivan, chewing nervously on his thumbnail as he regarded the street with some thought.
“Things’ll get fixed, I guess,” he heard Francis say sullenly. They said their goodbyes, and as Richie hung up, he sighed heavily.
Later that night, Ivan was busy overlooking the calls he’d missed while he, Shiv and Dominic had been out to perform the second of their rescue duties–because after he’d talked to Francis, Richie had found himself being held at gunpoint by a hooker that had been hired out by Alva Junior, who was certain that to get Static’s attention was to get him. Richie was quite amused at the length of time it had taken to get ‘rescued’ by his former kidnappers, and had been quite humored by the situation. Static had baby duty that night–but Richie wasn’t that concerned. After all, to someone that had as much kidnaped as much as he, it really wasn’t that scary, anymore.
He was in their bedroom, changing out of his blood stained clothes (Junior had lost a fingertip when Richie proved that he didn’t like being jabbed in the cheek for being ‘so cooperative’) when Ivan walked in. It was a good thing he hadn’t had his hair done, yet. His clothes had been white before the rescue.
“I ain’t doin’ anymore of that bullshit!” he snapped, looking wholly exasperated. Richie felt the need to sit in the corner, and looked at him with cheer. “No more! You get your ass snatched by someone else, I ain’t comin’ after you!”
“That’s fine,” Richie said, grinning at him. “I’m used to it. Eventually, someone comes along and pulls me out. Besides, I’m not exactly helpless. Another five minutes, and I would’ve have needed any help...”
“...This comin’ from some stupid whitebread tossed into a fuckin’ tub of water–chained.”
“Hah! I rival Houdini!” Richie continued grinning at him, noting that Ivan had already taken notice of the bruises and bite marks from Daniel. But the black man said nothing, merely looked at him with reproach.
He pulled another shirt on over his head, and sat down at the edge of the bed. His expression lost his cheer, and he took a deep breath. “Um...I...I just want to apologize for the other night, Ivan. I was only trying to make you mad. I didn’t really mean all those things.”
Ivan looked up from his cell, giving him a bored expression. He then shifted it into a scowl after some moments of thought. Richie could see the suspicion in his eyes, looking and waiting for angles.
“I know that.”
“But...see...the thing is, Adam didn’t get to where he is today without you. Without you, he...I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have succeeded at anything. You were the one that raised him, and parented him. You sacrificed a lot for him.”
Ivan’s scowl was dark enough for Richie to feel put down, once more. Adam was always a sore subject for the older man. “...Shut up about him.”
Sensing Ivan’s steadily rising sensitivity to the issue, Richie hurried on with, “And I truly respect that of you, Ivan. You just...Francis was right about you. You are an okay guy. Just...misunderstood, I guess.”
“Now that that’s outta your system, don’t ever speak of this bullshit again. I don’t wanna hear about my fuckin’ brother. I don’t wanna hear you saying shit about him or me again.”
Richie grinned at him, leaning back on the bed, jiggling one of his knees. “Fine. Okay. But I just wanted to let you know. You are a fucking prick, sometimes. But I think that’s just a cover. Cuz inside, I’ll bet you’re just a teddy bear. You know, if you were really all sour and angry? You wouldn’t have done what Francis asked. And you certainly wouldn’t have gone that mile for Theresa. You done a lot of things that disprove your evil qualities...an’ I just wanted to let you know that.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. But he turned away to fiddle with his cell, giving him his back. “You always so fuckin’ preachy after somethin’ like that?”
“No. I just...with Francis being away, I just...I learned my lesson, like I said. I need to...I need to fix things. I especially want to fix this ‘thing’ with you. You’re always going to be a big part of my life while I’m with Francis. I can’t just...fuck things up by...doing what I did. Playing with you.” Richie gave him an uncertain expression, taking off his glasses to clean them. “I don’t want things to continue badly between us. I’ll still give you shit from time to time, but...other than that, it’s better to be friendly with you than...than not.”
Ivan considered his words–realized that he was right. Their common bond was Francis–as long as Richie continued loving him, the blond was going to be as big a part of his life as Francis was. His eyes narrowed as he checked off one more thing that he hated about this relationship, about their link. He had to wonder what sort of reaction he’d get if he set out a contract against Francis–have someone do him in so that the link would be severed in this manner.
But he couldn’t do that.
It felt as if he were plotting against himself, and that left him terribly uncomfortable. And even more sullen. The very thought left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, and he sighed with resentment.
He looked up quickly when Richie stood, and watched him close the space between them. Both startlingly and discomforting was the hug the blond administered, making every one of his limbs stiffen with the unexpected surprise. He was still rigid when Richie then kissed him gently, with none of the forward advances and feelings of reciprocation. Just a gentle touch of lips on his.
Ivan didn’t do anything, didn’t feel any action to push him away, or curse at him. Just took the intimate touch with nothing more than a sullen frown. The blond then said nothing more as he turned and left the room.
Ivan spent the rest of the evening thinking about those things. He was partly torn between satisfaction and a sense of disappointment that made him seriously reconsider himself. He enjoyed games. He loved the gratification of playing against an opponent, and being able to take them down with a laugh. He enjoyed other people’s pain and troubles–as long as they didn’t concern him.
In a mixed sense of feeling, he didn’t like that Richie was backing out. He had grown to enjoy what was happening between them. He wasn’t falling in love–no, that was beyond his reach. He just enjoyed the battle that he had with himself, and the one he had going on with the blond. He liked to distract himself from other points of thinking into wondering what Richie was going to spring on him, next; to wondering when Francis was going to catch on; to wondering what Ivan himself would do once the move was set.
He still thought about sex–but there wasn’t a way NOT to. Sure, since that night, he’d noticed the blond more often; noticed the way he interacted with others, the subtle way he raised his eyebrows in response to something. The way the corner of his mouth quirked at something he found troublesome. The way he smelled when coming back from the gym down the street. Ivan noticed these things, and found himself hating him for all of that. For using that link he had with Francis to find the blond much more interesting than he had before.
Ivan wasn’t sure if he actually really hated the blond–but perhaps he just hated the cleverness of his game playing.
At the same time, he also admired that. It was something to respect, in a way of thinking.
He didn’t want the game to end, but if Richie wasn’t going to play, there wasn’t any way Ivan was going to convince him to stop. After all, that would be admitting to something that Ivan would not want to admit to anyone aloud. Shiv knew that there was something going on between them, but with his limited understanding, he didn’t know the extent of things being played. But Ivan often caught the Asian staring at them closely, his eyes searching and looking for things that shouldn’t be displayed.
Ivan could trust Shiv with anything–but on another level, he was starting to feel a little bad in that he was using him against Francis. If Francis found out that Shiv knew about these things, there was no doubt that Francis would go after him, as well.
That was the thrill of it all–wondering when and if Francis would find out. Part of the game was keeping all of these feelings in check so that Francis wouldn’t suspect what was going on. Ivan had thought that Francis had seemed suspicious a few times, but other than that–the redhead really had no clue as to what was being played behind his back.
In a way, Ivan felt sorry for him. Because Francis devoted himself to his husband; his thoughts, his feelings, his actions–all his determination in making things straight and all his insecurities left Ivan feeling rather...evil. In a pleasantly warming way. Because it just added to the thrill of the game.
But all of it was going to stop!
He had to wonder about that. He wanted to gloat and laugh at the blond for landing his husband in jail and for that unspoken incident the other day. He wanted to rub it in–the blond had fallen twice, and he’d picked himself up the first time; had upped the stakes with his sexual advances. Ivan was very curious as to how Richie was going to handle this fall back.
Ivan hated himself for finding Richie so interesting. For devoting most of his time into thinking of what the blond would do, what he was thinking. Anticipating whatever sneaky trick he was going to pull.
In a way, Ivan knew he’d fallen, too. For falling prey to this constant thinking of Richie, for obsessing over such things with all the mind set of a man possessed.
He wasn’t in love–no, it wasn’t love. Just...fixation. Probably not even that. It wasn’t as if he were turning around and displaying his affection; he wasn’t changing his tune around him. He still continued to insult and ignore Richie the same way he had before. And when he spoke, he was just as cranky and belligerent as before. It wasn’t as if he thought of being the blond’s savior, or his protector–whichever. Francis had asked him to do something, and Ivan had agreed mainly because he was fixated on the game.
He had to narrow his eyes in thought, exhaling smoke into the night air. He was standing on the back deck, and Richie had gone to bed already, sullen over something that had happened earlier today. Shiv was playing video games with Freddie, and alcohol was flowing freely from the cans that were being passed around. Ivan himself was a little buzzed, but that was about it. Richie had started drinking with them, but the moment Freddie started asking him questions about that night, he'd stopped and left the room. Ivan had posted himself outside because he needed a cigarette, and he'd lost himself in these thoughts since then.
What if this relinguishment was another part of Richie’s game? Throwing him off the same way he had the other night? Perhaps he was just saying this, just to calm things down, a bit. Perhaps he didn’t mean it at all. Just making sure Ivan settled a little before springing something more onto him.
But what else could Richie do that would upset Ivan? The blond could push him into anger, into madness, into sex-obsessed relations, but what other aspects could he spring? Perhaps a more exculpatory approach–to sidle his way into Ivan’s mind with being friendly and impeccant, then spring something totally different onto him.
One thing was for sure–Ivan was hooked.
Into wondering his next move, his next action; he hated himself for it, but fed off his own anticipation. It made things exciting.
He had to wonder what was next.
Shampoo: Er, I am not sure what you meant by that...'hooed'...>.<
Tri: Yay! You read it! And you are...disgusted. By everyone! (huggles) I wanted to make everyone somewhat different than I usually worked them with, and, in a way, I am satisfied with what I've done. XD Thanks for commenting on this to me...
I'm_Alive: um...is it because of...Rudy? Or...cuz...it's so long? Heh...(kicks story)
Don't worry, all! It's almost over! XD
Chapter Eighteen:
...In A City So Dead
“Since I’m not going to be home for awhile, keep an eye on him, ‘k?”
Ivan rolled his eyes, pushing a candy bar across the counter with the tip of his pen. Work hours were growing longer and longer the more bored he felt. He kept thinking about last night–hating himself for enjoying that Francis was away, and could be for a considerable amount of time. He had thought briefly of his husband, and hated himself for wanting to delve more into physical intimacies with him.
That night they’d shared still had him waking up with sticky boxers. Not that he’d automatically turned gay since fucking Richie. He’d just kept thinking about that night and realizing how much he’d lost since then. He hadn’t fallen in love with him; just since he’d gotten to know him on that level, he noticed him a lot more than he used to.
And Ivan Evans was NOT happy about that.
“You want me to fuckin’ baby sit?” he then asked in annoyance, exhaling loudly. “I ain’t fuckin’ baby sitting! Fuck! Last night don’t fuckin’ mean nothin’ to you?”
“Man, just–! When fuckers start hearin’ that I’m all up in jail, you fuckin’ KNOW they’re gonna come around the house, sniffing for ass or looking for fuckin’–revenge! You know that!”
“Ah, yes...cuz the bitch is magic...” Ivan snorted, then laughed out loud. Several customers looked over at him in terror, eyes shooting around themselves, expecting trouble.
He ignored them.
“...Wha...?” Francis apparently didn't hear the part of his husband being 'magic'.
“Nothin’. Just...fuck. I don’t fuckin’ want to waste my time–”
“C’mon, Ivan, please! He’ll fuckin’ prolly hang around with Virgil an’ all that, but when he’s home alone–c’mon, man. You KNOW that the fucker gets into trouble all the time! ‘Member that trip I had to take outta town? Last November?”
Ivan immediately thought of that, wincing. The urge to smoke was great, and was hampered only in that he was working and had used up his breaks.
“An’–those fuckin’ kids that tried to rob the place, an’ he was the only one there?”
Ivan sighed, flicking the pen away from him.
“And that psycho head trip that was convinced Rich was a fuckin’ reincarnation of whatever an’ was tryin’ to fuckin’ sacrifice him when I left Dakota for some training? I swear to God, he can’t stay outta trouble for very long. It always seems to happen whenever I ain’t wit’ him. Ivan, please!!!”
“...That was pretty funny.”
“IVAN!”
“Fine, fuck! Just...I ain’t havin’ it if he starts shit. If he starts shit–!”
“THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I already talked to him, he won’t start any trouble. FUCK! This is why we ain’t havin’ any kids cuz Rich is already, like, a fuckin’ kid, an’ I gotta call around for a fuckin’ babysitter whenever I’m not there!”
Ivan could hear his exasperation, and lazily twirled about in his swiveling chair. A pretty honey appeared at the counter with a strong waft of perfume and belly-bearing clothing, so Ivan put the phone down and spent considerable time attending to her needs. By the time she was done, putting extra jiggle in her step, Francis had long since hung up.
He shrugged, kicking angrily at the counter as he stared up at the ceiling. He really wasn’t in the mind for babysitting, but Francis had been right about Richie never staying out of trouble for very long. It must be something about him that inspired every crook in the city to try and snatch at him. For either his questionable friendship with Static, or because of Francis. It was really a toss-up that garnered more lame excuses–there was always an enemy eager to bring the superhero down through Richie, or someone that wanted the same excuse to get back at Francis.
The boy was a lightening rod for trouble.
Things had calmed considerably whenever Francis was around–but it seemed the moment others realized the redhead was away, trouble happened to slip in, and it was either Static to the rescue, or, by some miracle, the blond pulling himself from trouble.
This unexpected trip to jail was publicized in the evening news–even if he hadn’t been causing trouble since prison, he was still infamous for his past dealings as a ‘villain’. Francis had spent some time cursing about that, and that was what brought up the babysitting expectations.
Ivan sighed heavily, dropping his head for a brief moment. He’d taken out his cornrows, as they’d been pulled and mussed, and his usual stylist had complained about doing them so soon after the last disaster. So he’d made an emergency appointment for a teenaged girl that would do them out of the salon. She wasn’t expected to show up until later that night, but it appeared Ivan would have to wait another day.
Scowling, he leaned over the counter once more and frowned at the sight of a man slinking around in an aisle nearby. Something tickled at the back of his neck at that, but he ignored it, leaning onto his palm and watching him with a bored expression.
Later on, he managed to convince Shiv and the others to come along with him. Not for extra security, but because Ivan didn’t want to tempt himself for falling prey to the blond’s charms. Even if he thought about it a lot, he didn’t want to act on those temptations.
They were walking away from the record shop, and heading towards a convenience store for beer. Jason would be the ones driving them in his Explorer.
“Aw, man, no way!” Shiv exclaimed, not liking the idea. “Big Red knew I had a date, tonight!”
Ivan gave him a mock sad expression, Shiv scowling angrily as he huffed, jamming his hands into his DC labeled sweater pockets.
“That’s it! Because I’m missin’ out on tits and ass tonight, I’m gonna be selfish and order up a TON of food and have it delivered and make him pay for it.”
Jason, on a rare moment of being away from his sister, clapped his hands suddenly. “Isn’t this the same guy that gets into trouble all the time? That has all these bustas tryin’ to move in all of a sudden the moment F-Stop’s away? I kinda remember that last time when we got there, and there were fuckin’ ninjas all over the damn place.”
“Or that fuckin’ time when there were these guys from church wanting to lynch him for being fag!” Shiv laughed.
“Or that time when he ordered in pizza and it turned out to be this super lethal government agent that was all convinced he was some sorta Bang Baby!”
“Or that time when Ebon tried to–oh. Oops. No bad feelings, Ivan....”
“...Fuck you both.”
The pair of them laughed uproariously, Ivan scowling as he struggled not to remember that certain time.
“Eh....I guess we go over and see what’s up,” Shiv then decided, as if it were his decision all along. “Just...kinda...it’s been awhile since I got to doin’ something. So...I might be a little outta shape.”
“If that beer gut of yours ain’t ‘outta shape’, then I dunno what is.” Jason commented, giving mentioned anatomy a dubious glance.
“Don’t be hatin’ on the love machine.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “Seriously gotta find a new crew to hang out with...”
“You can’t do that!” Shiv cried, leaping onto his back, making him curse. “We’re like brothers! If you separate us, we’ll die! Who else we gonna follow when we obviously don’t have the brains to fend for ourselves?”
“Speak for yourself, man,” Jason muttered, giving him a scowl.
“Get off me,” Ivan growled, shoving the overexcited Asian away from him. Shiv merely laughed, straightened his shirt, then suddenly dashed off, whooping. Ivan gave Jason a steady look. “Don’t be givin’ him no mo’ sugar. Both of them would be all hyped up an’ around the house like nothin’.”
“Just kids, man...kids...” Jason then gave a scoffing expression as he ran his hands over his newly shorn locks. Shiv was two years older than he, but the Asian had the over excitement of a preteen on sugar. “Damn, man. This guy can’t be THAT much trouble tonight, eh? Ain’t like they got THAT many enemies nowadays...”
“Nah...prolly the only thing we gotta worry about is that sucka from last night.” In a way, Ivan hoped that Joe Lyons would bother them. Francis had been steaming about the built ‘gym-fag’ since the encounter in the parking lot, and Ivan fed off those feelings, giving him some aggression that he felt he deserved.
“Yeah...truth...”
SS.SS.SS.SS.SS .SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.
Richie cringed, crying out anxiously as firm teeth settled over his right nipple. An explosion of pain sent his body jolting upwards, smacking with a fleshy thud against Daniel’s as conflicting merges of pressure closed over the nub. He clawed apprehensively at his shoulders as the jagged edges of his teeth began to gnaw against his skin, piercing the soft flesh and making him squeal with almost mindless abandon. Daniel’s teeth sank through, blood immediately welling up in protest to the action, and the squeal turned into an abrupt scream. Hungrily, Daniel slurped the liquid into his mouth and settled his weight firmly over the struggling body underneath him.
He then laughed softly, removing his mouth from the ravaged area, his tongue snaking out to taste the traces of blood around his lips.
“Your tits taste really good, man,” he said with joy, nodding his head firmly.
He then inhaled deeply, smelling the thick, coppery smell of the blood he’d just spilt, and the strong scent of his urine. Much earlier, when he’d started the battle, he’d taken the time to pin the blond down and settled over him to empty his bladder over him. Daniel had laughed in delight over the retching mess his victim made, trying in vain to cover his face. Unaffected by his own bodily fluids, Daniel had taken considerable time to smear the smelly golden liquid into his skin and face, until the both of them were covered in the fluid, the blankets smeared and soaked with the distinguishing scent.
His eyes narrowed, flicking over to the other nipple with thoughtful decision. It was already swollen and irritated, cracked by violent treatment of earlier progress. He had been teething on it, enjoying the panicked cries and screams before moving onto the next.
“But I need to see and make sure...”
He started to lower his head once more, but quickly changed direction, chomping down fiercely on Richie’s neck when the blond’s hands flew into his face. He managed to apply enough force over his windpipe when a determined thumb poked at his right eye. Squeezing with alarming violence, he felt Richie choke and convulse beneath him, that hand shifting from his face to push wildly at his mouth.
Daniel lifted his head with another joyous cackle, nipping painfully over his shoulder as his hands shifted, fingers digging into Richie’s ribs. He punched a tender spot, made that way from earlier, when he had to show the blond who was in charge. He relished the stiffening of the body beneath him, and shifted quickly, biting down hard on the other nipple and hearing Richie scream again.
His fingers danced over the pained spasms that racked his body, savoring the reaction that was given to him. He had torn off the blond’s shirt earlier, then had worked on his pants, but the blond was proving stronger than he looked. Daniel had only managed to undo the button and wiggle some of that material down, with enough room for him to work with.
They moved even lower, over the exposed pubis, then lower, through the waistband of his underwear. He groped with the intention of inflicting pain, twisting and pulling, laughing at the squelched sounds of terrorized anguish.
“This is what thinks for you,” Daniel hissed, pulling hard on his penis and then drinking in the scream of the after result. Daniel gave one of his own when his tongue was bitten, and he released his crotch, to punch his exposed stomach with a maniacal cackle. “That’s what’s going to get you into trouble! Messing with the wrong person! There are others that want to hurt you, that wanna punish you for being addicting! They just never act on it! They are fools, they are wimps–! Here, I will act for them! For all those that love you and hate you, for punishing them for being attracted!”
Daniel gave an enraged scream at the heel that connected with his lower gut, and as he exhaled soundly, feeling his throat erupt with dry retches, Richie kicked at his exposed face, catching him with just enough force to pull up his pants and underwear.
Daniel dropped dead weight onto him, crushing him briefly, and the pair struggled against each other, each movement made out of desperation and malice. Through it all, Daniel panted and laughed in that mad way, as if delighted by every intrepid move Richie made in trying to escape.
Growling with the thrill of the domination, he shoved the blond back down onto the bed, and started punching him repeatedly. He couldn’t land any with Richie’s arms fiercely moving about, blocking almost every one.
He paused during one instance, looking over at the shirt that he’d torn off of him earlier, and groped for that, using his other hand to keep him pinned. It took a few minutes, but he managed to turn Richie over onto his stomach, tying his arms behind him with the shirt.
Both panted heavily, resting for that moment, Daniel shaking his hair out of his face. He shifted, turning around so that he could lay himself over Richie’s back, looking down at his profile with some concern. He then made “Sshing” sounds as he stroked his reddened cheek, laughing when Richie turned his face into the mattress to avoid that touch. Daniel roughly shoved him onto his back, shoving his hand into his mouth, to try and grab his tongue. He gave a scream when Richie bit him, jerking his hand out from his mouth with a quick action.
Daniel laughed, tossing his head, then choked at the abrupt punch he received against his throat. At the relinquishing of position, Daniel tilting back as he struggled to gasp in air, Richie surged upward to push him off the bed and into the floor, the torn shirt falling from his wrists.
Daniel immediately changed shape, snarling fiercely as Richie tore from the room in panicked haste. It didn’t take long to subdue the blond once more, tackling him to the carpet and clamping his teeth over the back of his neck. Both of them were panting hard, Daniel emitting a low growl from deep within his throat as he held him tightly to the floor. When he felt the blond move, he tightened his hold and shifted to indicate the easy breaking of his neck.
Richie paused, but only slightly, his hand clawing upward. His index finger found the fragile globe of Daniel’s right eye, and the puncture was quick and efficient. Daniel screamed, jerking upward and away from him, clawed hands slapping against his face in horror. Richie darted back to his feet, slapping the counter for his car keys as the werewolf continued to scream with utter fury and pain.
He glanced back with terror, sucking in a quick inhale of breath when he registered the heavy dark form darting at him.
Daniel slammed into him with no holding back, and the wall protested the action immediately. Teeth snapped, Richie screaming in reaction as his hands pushed at his snout, battling against the snarling creature.
He managed to dig one of his fingers into Daniel’s nostrils, and he jabbed inward, as deeply as he could in that instant. Daniel reacted with another pained yowl, leaping backward, sneezing and cursing repeatedly. Richie then rolled back onto his feet, reaching for the door when it flung open, smacking him in the face and knocking him senseless.
Daniel whirled, one eye widening with surprise, the other destroyed as he watched Ivan, Shiv and Jason walk in. Everyone either gaped in horror, or screamed in surprise upon viewing the monstrous animal that seemed to dominate the small area.
Shiv, the screamer, ducked behind Ivan while Jason just gaped, Ivan’s face screwed up with immense surprise. Daniel snorted, then sneezed, blood speckling over the carpet. He fell onto all fours, then snarled viciously, snapping his teeth in their direction as he started advancing toward them. They all leapt back, shouting in horror, pulling the door shut while Richie groaned at the impact he’d made with the opening door, fingers curled over his currently bleeding nose.
Daniel turned to him, growling low, his head tilted to the side as he eyed him with hateful mistrust.
Richie quickly whirled onto his backside, facing him, his keys shaking wildly in his hand as he held them up like a weapon.
“Whore!” came the mixture of sounds, blood speckling the air. The oozy drippings of his ruined eye settled over his fur, oozing to the carpet. The other was widened with fury. “You’ll get yours! Soon enough!”
Richie stared at him for a few seconds, then shook his head tightly. “Not from you!”
Daniel snapped at that, and both of them looked back at the door opening, this time Jason holding out a nine millimeter, Ivan following suit with a Magnum. Shiv welded one of the flower pots, but he held it over his head menacingly. Daniel stared at them in hateful regard, then turned, bounding away to slam through the glass patio door, emerging out into the backyard, disappearing from sight.
Shiv lowered the flowerpot from his head, looking over as Jason pulled the door back, revealing the bloodied and battered blond as he trembled violently against the wall. Ivan hurried over to investigate the sliding door, Jason caught between both as he settled within the center of the living room.
“Shit, blondie, we leave you alone for not even a day, an’ you’re already getting into trouble!” Shiv said with some amusing affection. “Big Red was always commenting on that sorta shit! Here, wanna shirt? Man, you all bloody.”
“What the fuck was that?” Jason cried suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Someone’s big honkin’ cat? Dunno.” Despite his earlier repugnance, Shiv took off his first shirt, and hurriedly pulled it over Richie’s head, murmuring all the while when he realized that the blond was still quite shocked and dazed.
Richie shot to his feet, stumbling away as Shiv caught his footing after being shoved. All three looked after him in silence, then flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut.
With a sense of numb detachment, Richie surveyed the bedroom that reeked of various odors, and wiped at his dripping nose.
“You in there, man?! You okay?!” he heard Shiv shout, pounding on the door. It sounded as if he were kicking it, as well.
Every one of his limbs locked into place–pain bloomed and registered then, and he started shaking violently.
“Y-yeah!” he called, his voice shaking, cracking as he pulled the blankets off the mattress. Urine and blood splattered the sheets, and it took all he had left not to erupt into hysterics. He started vomiting, crouching against the bed with an arm over his stomach as he emptied his stomach’s contents onto the floor. His hands shot to his hair and clenched until he realized it was dried in tangles from urine.
The pounding stopped.
“You...you alive? Are you okay?”
Gasping for breath, Richie stared at the multi-colored mess he made...realizing that he had to change.
“I’m just...I’m just going to take a shower,” he called out, his voice trailing off with a faint after trace of horror. He stood shakily, his knees feeling as if they were going to give out. Staggering, he made his way to the bathroom and locked himself inside.
His insides felt numb with horror and disbelief–his outside feel shredded by all that had been done to him. He could feel all the teeth marks, the punches–but all of it, he felt, all of it was caused by his ego.
Because he’d wanted to be desired; wanted the attention. The games that he played with others to get that attention was what had left him cocky and crafty. And because of it, he’d met the wrong person, and made the wrong choice. Joe had turned out more different than he’d thought–he’d never given thought that the brunette would have been so vehement in his feelings for him. Never thought he’d race out of control just to start a scene.
And Daniel–well, that was his mistake entirely. He couldn’t remember his thinking into why he’d even begun charming him.
Richie began to believe that he’d let his ego take over his common sense. He wasn’t sure how long he took–just that he’d blanked out the moment the water started running red around his feet.
By the time he’d come to, he had the bed stripped and was dressed in Francis’ clothes. The need for his comforting presence and strength was strong, and he shoved his hands against his mouth to quell the rising hysterics that hit him, then. He sank to the floor and leant against the bed, sobbing hysterically into his hands, struggling to be quiet, before anybody heard him. He wasn’t sure why he lost control–perhaps the incident with Daniel and the loss of Francis for this temporary time suddenly just hit him.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and he quickly reigned in his cries, sniffling and hiccuping loudly. He pressed a pillow against his face to muffle those sounds, as well.
“What?” he barked, once he was sure he could talk.
“What you doin’ in there?”
He stilled at Ivan’s voice, then felt the shaking began anew. He needed Francis at that moment–needed him so much that it literally pained his insides. He dashed tears away with his hands and struggled to compose himself.
“Nothing,” he called out, rising shakily. “Nothing. Don’t you guys have an apartment of your own to go to?”
He heard a muffled curse of annoyance, something about ‘babysitting’. Heard the floor shift as Ivan moved about. But he’d never been so thankful for their presence as he was at that moment. He rose from the floor, gathering all the ruined sheets into his arms. They were rank–the odor of piss was strong, and he dropped it, retching violently.
He wiped his mouth, catching his breath. “Can you...can you bring me some....some plastic trash bags? Please?”
He heard another muffled curse, but Ivan walked away from the door. He waited against the bed, and heard the sound of the black man’s steps, and the rustling of bags. He rose from the floor and quickly opened the door, snatching the bags and slamming the door shut before Ivan could really look at him. He quickly bagged the sheets, tightening the ends fiercely, then gathered them all up into his arms.
“Are the others here?” he asked through the door.
“Nope. Went out for food...what are you–?”
Richie quickly opened the door, shoving past him to head outside. He heard Ivan follow, sensing the befuddled expression on his face. He headed over to the grill, and tossed one of the bags onto it. When he couldn’t find the lighter, groping angrily around the brick setting, he looked over at Ivan. The eldest Evans gave a small yelp when Richie groped his pockets for a lighter, finding one, then turning away to start burning at the gathered blankets. The fire started slowly, and Ivan looked over at him with some consideration, standing in silence beside him. It took awhile, but by the time the last bag burned steadily amidst the ashes of those that had burned before it, Richie looked over at Ivan.
“I forfeit,” he said quietly, meeting his eyes. “You win. No more games.”
Ivan stared at him in silence, considering his words. His eyes flicked over to the burning bags, and narrowed with considerable thought.
Richie shook his head tightly. “I can’t...I can’t play with people. Not...not anymore. I was wrong. I encouraged it. And it...it just brought me...trouble.”
The finality of those words hit Ivan like a low blow. Suddenly, he realized what it meant–the burning of those sheets, the attitude. In a way, disappointment flooded him like a cold wave–numbing his limbs. In another, intense feelings of bewilderment and puzzled curiosity followed.
“...Francis–?”
“Please don’t tell him,” Richie said quickly, turning pleading eyes to him. For a few moments, the pair of them stared at each other. “He doesn’t need to know. About...about anything. I...I learned my lesson...”
Ivan felt his brow drop with intense puzzlement. It had to involve the thing they had just scared off. It had to. But he had no idea what it meant, and, truthfully, he didn’t want to. The thought was just too obscene.
But he had to count out other instances to have caused this decision. It couldn’t have been him–he hadn’t felt anything telltaling from Francis. He immediately thought of Joe, and how the man may have done something more in retaliation.
“Joe–?”
“It wasn’t Joe. It was...someone I shouldn’t have...but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m going to stop. Everything. And that means I forfeit. I...I’m sorry I fucked with you in that manner. I shouldn’t’ve.”
Ivan took the lighter that was held out at him. With some quiet consideration, he realized how stiffly Richie was moving. The blond looked back at the remnants of the burning sheets, and Ivan put the lighter away, licking his lips.
He cleared his throat. “You need to go to the hospital?”
Richie looked at him, his eyes coasting over him for several seconds. Then he shook his head. “No...but thank you. For...offering.”
Ivan didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged, looking away. A few minutes later, Richie headed back inside without saying anything more, and Ivan watched the last of the flames flicker away within the grill.
SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.
Eustacio heard the scream of outrage from Rudy before he heard the mutt bark something obscene. He hurried in as fast as he could, limping, seeing that Rudy was crouched before the metahuman, prodding at something that he couldn’t see.
“Who did this?” Rudy cried, holding Danny in place, examining the damage done to him. “Who did this? Fuck! It–it stopped bleeding, at least, but you ain’t–fuck! Fuck, man! Fuck! Someone----! Someone took out his fuckin’ eye, man!”
Eustacio looked over with some horror and surprise, to see that the globe was completely missing from his right eye. That tendrils dangled from the open orifice, and blood had caked completely within the available space. The metahuman was moving in drugged circles, obviously off balance. Bits of its fur was matted with blood, and there were wood splinters embedded within his hands. He was obviously disoriented with the lack of equilibrium and pain. For a moment, Eustacio felt a secret glee.
“What happened to you?” Rudy continued to cry, trying to draw out answers from the panting meta. The creature didn’t answer–merely curled up on the floor to rest its matted head upon its paws, licking feverishly at a blooded nail.
Rudy rose from the floor, practically trembling in anger. Eustacio looked from him to the animal, then cringed with noticeable shock as the elder Sedano kicked Danny. The werewolf cried out in surprise, darting up from the floor and slinking away from him, whining and growling as Rudy chased at him. The moment the older Sedano had cornered the animal against the wall, he kicked him again.
“Who the fuck were you messing with?” he shouted, fiercely.
Another kick landed on Danny’s ribs, and Eustacio followed, hobbling carefully as he realized that Danny was taking the abuse. Howling and whining, but taking it.
He had to shake his head in disbelieving exasperation. He didn’t stick around to hear anymore. Just went about his business with the worn baseball bat to terrorize the pits in their cages.
They were walking back home, breathing in the chilly air as Rudy fumed. Eustacio was doing his best to keep up, but his hip was really sore. He didn’t dare ask his older brother to slow down.
“I can’t believe this!” Rudy suddenly howled, startling the youngest Sedano. Dogs began to bark in surprise, and somebody gave a sarcastic reply from one of the alleys. “Why are so many people willing to fuck with us? What the fuck did we do to other people?”
Eustacio wasn’t about to answer, rolling his eyes as he continued on his way.
“I don’t know what the fuck Danny-boy was doin’! What the fuck was he doin’ to do that?!”
“Ain’t like you care, man,” Eustacio muttered. “You just treat him like a fuckin’ pet...”
“...The meaning of the thing is that someone is fucking with me!” Rudy shouted, then hurried to catch up, shoving his brother. “Anybody fucks with my family, fucks with my–with my fuckin’ pets?! They fucking with me in actual reality!”
Eustacio had to laugh, shaking his head in pity as he continued walking. “You stupid, man. Just plain stupid.”
“...Wonder who the fuck it was that fucked up Danny-boy. Now I gotta wait for him to get all healed before makin’ him do other things. Fuck. Fuck! I wanted to move in on Ivan, today, man! I had a guy on him! Word was, Stone’s bitch was all alone, too. Fuck! Fuck...maybe I can still do it...I mean... get to Stone later. Like...well, fuck he’s probably gonna be in there for a while, anyway. May as well as do it, now.”
“Why you gotta be that way?” Eustacio complained, but kept his voice down as they started to enter the residential area. They were five blocks away from where they lived.
“...what?”
“Why you gotta–? Fuck. Ivan an’ nem are probably all armed, anyway. He don’t stick with himself too much.”
“So? I got guys.”
“Still...just...fuck. Leave it alone.”
“I can’t!” Rudy gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t you understand the rules?! I’m the man of the house, the eldest! I’m runnin’ this fuckin’ crew, I’m gettin’ all this street cred–it’s like a RULE to watch over what’s mine! And whenever someone fucks with what’s mine, I gotta go and fix it! Like what mom used to do when fuckers like you fucked up in school. Gotta fix what’s mine.”
“Christ...you’re so fuckin’ stupid, Rudy. Man...”
“Fuck you. Fuck you. You don’t get it, why you still in the family, huh? Cuz me and momma’s always lookin’ out for you. Fuck you, I hate you, man. You’re the fuckin’ baby of the damn family, and you all fuckin’ retarded and don’t get stuff. Fuckin’ stay there in your little world and don’t come out, man. Til you understand what it’s like to be a fuckin’ man and handle your business.” Rudy looked at him in disgust, then hurried on ahead.
Eustacio bent, picked up a rock, and flung it after him. “Fuck you, man!”
Muttering low to himself, he sighed and continued hobbling.
SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.SS.
That next morning, Ivan heard the cell ringing off in the back bedroom. With a low groan, he wiped his eyes and pushed up from the couch. He remembered belatedly that Richie could sleep like the dead, and that part of his duties included waking him up. Staggering over several sleeping bodies (Shiv had called for back-up, not wanting to deal with an overlarged mutt on their own), Ivan headed into the back bedroom. He spied the ringing cell on the floor, frowning as he glared with irritation at the sleeping form on the stripped bed.
He bent, picking up the ringing cell, staring at the unfamiliar number on the LCD window. He ran his fingers through his ‘fro, and answered with irritation. The caller immediately hung up, and he cursed, slinging another glare at the blond. Tossing the phone aside, he glanced around himself, unsure of how he was to proceed with this.
He then remembered that it was Sunday–Richie had nothing to do on a Sunday, but because Ivan was awakened by his cell and by the notification of his duties, he wasn’t going to let the blond rest.
He headed into the bathroom, used the toilet, then filled a cup full of cold water from the sink. With a low snort, he padded back into the bedroom and upended the contents over Richie’s face.
The sputtering and enraged roars of discomfort were well worth Ivan’s trouble. He smirked before tossing the cup away and heading back out into the front room to grab some more shut eye.
Later that morning, Richie was grumbling angrily to himself as he waited for Danielle Stone to meet him at the appointed clinic in downtown Dakota. He wanted to know what unGodly soul decided that clinics had to be open on Sundays. Not really one to dwell on his misfortunes in the weird and unexpected (so used to it after so long), he forced himself to focus on Danielle’s visit with the gyno and have herself approved for birth control.
The unruly sister-in-law, never shy with her hate and dislike of him, arrived with boyfriend twenty minutes after the time that they’d agreed to meet. She’d been trying to call him all morning, she’d complained, and was going to tell her brother that some man had answered his cellphone instead of him.
When it looked as if she were truly enjoying herself with that, Richie rolled his eyes.
Her boyfriend was dressed in Playa colors, making Richie groan at the sight of him.
“What’s up, man?” the boy addressed him, as if he already knew him. And, as Richie looked at him, he probably did. One of the many faces that had come around before Francis issued the no visitors rule at the house. “Heard your man was in prison?”
“Don’t talk to him,” Dani muttered, giving Richie an evil onceover. “He might give you something gay.”
Richie grit his teeth as the boyfriend looked at him with sympathy, following after the much larger girl.
“Your sister reminds me of you when you were younger–just female,” he growled into his cellphone halfway into the visit. He and the boyfriend, Dale, were waiting outside, as the clinic proved quite crowded with sick children, pregnant teens and angry men that took up all the chairs. Francis had called at a merciful time. John Knoxson knew of Richie’s hapless adventures, and had granted him use of his own cellphone so that the redhead could check up on his husband daily.
“She givin’ you shit?”
“I not tattling, or anything...”
“Ivan with you?”
“No. Why would he be?”
“...No reason. Just...”
“Francis. I can take care of myself. I am grown. I do not need a fucking babysitter while you’re away! I hate when you make me out to be some hapless house fuck that can’t even do his own grocery shopping!”
“...Last February.”
Richie groaned with an exasperated eye roll, walking away from Dale as he started pacing the length of the parking lot. “That was a fucking coincidence! How the hell was I supposed to know a bunch of CIA agents were tailing me for some wacky tale of me possessing psychic powers?”
“April of the year before that.”
“Who knew there was a Harley Davidson ninja faction?!”
“October.”
“It wasn’t my fault mad scientist people were convinced I was pregnant with some set of alien quintuplets just because I'd gained a few pounds!”
“And...grand-daddy of all things, love, September of the year before that.”
“...I apologized for the invasion of midget sock snatchers, ALL RIGHT?! How was I supposed to know that I offended their alien leader by taking his fuckin’ parking spot?!”
“...And...? This is why you need someone with you at all times.”
“...I hate you.”
“Baby, I love you. I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of while I’m stuck here. I can’t stand the thought of you being the plot point of some stupid fuck’s agenda, man.”
Richie rolled his eyes again, shaking his head as he kicked aimlessly at a row of sad summer flowers within a rotted section of sidewalk decoration. “I can’t help that. All right? I can’t help that everyone thinks I’m so fuckin’ important to someone’s plans!”
“Heh. So, anyway...that’s why I got Ivan to...erm, hang out with you.”
“I don’t like hanging out with Ivan. If I have to listen to another one of his threats just because I happen to like the smell of my farts–!”
“Rich! Don’t be startin’ any shit with him. Okay? He’s an okay guy if you give him a chance.”
“‘Okay guy’? Franny! This same ‘okay guy’ used to kidnap me when we were younger! Do I have to remind you how many times I’d been handcuffed and tied and roped and stuck together like some–”
“Do you have to talk dirty, baby? All that talk is making me horny.”
“...I’m hanging up on you, you bastard.”
Francis laughed softly, but Richie had to crack a smile. Despite himself, he felt his eyes well up with tears, thinking about yesterday’s incident with Daniel. As if suddenly brought on by this reminder, his wounds began to throb and sting painfully, and he rubbed softly against one of the bite marks on his chest.
“Look...babe...I just...I’m sorry. I don’t want to be in here. I’d rather be out there with you. You know, all this time in here is just–it’s making me think about how fuckin’ stupid I was. Takin’ it all for granted. I’d rather be yelling at you for spending on stupid stuff than hearing shit about being back in prison, again.”
Richie reflected on that. He certainly didn’t miss that aspect. But his husband was feeling lonely and lost in jail, so he sympathized. “...I miss that, too.”
“I don’t wanna go for five years, babe,” Francis continued with on a soft whine, somehow making Richie smile again. “I spent my time in that place. I don’t want to do that. I’ve been fuckin’ good all this fuckin’ time, an’ I mess up just once? It’s not fair. I fuckin’ hate this! Fuck, all the things I took for granted are just–they’re all I think about. I miss having to spend hours waking you up. I miss having you beside me. I miss you. I think this might do us some good, anyway. Kinda...it kinda makes me look back at what I’d been...like, forgettin’ all this time.”
Richie didn’t know what to say to that–just inhaled deeply of the cool morning air and took a seat at the edge of the flower box.
“Kinda...when I get out...I dunno. Let’s...I dunno, think about marriage counseling, or something.”
“...What? Why?” Richie suddenly felt apprehensive about the subject, guilt welling at his gut with all the strength of a fist.
“Cuz...I dunno...I still feel–uppity about you bein’ with other people. An’ I know you do, too. An’...I dunno...it might help us. I want us to be fixed. We got years, man. Years. I don’t want to be givin’ up on that. People said we weren’t gonna last cuz we’re so different, but me an’ you–we’re a lot a like. And...I don’t wanna lose that. I don’t.”
“...All this time in jail’s making you think that, Francis?” Richie asked, wrinkling his brow as he realized how sentimental his husband’s voice came across.
“...Well...yeah. I mean...that’s all I gotta think about in here. Can’t...can’t really think of anything else...I miss you, babe. A lot. It’s gonna be hard, cuz I’ll be missing you a lot back in there.”
“...Maybe you won’t have to go, Francis. Maybe something will come up. Maybe...if I talk to him–”
“Don’t you fuckin’ talk to him, Rich! What, you fuckin’ stupid?! Don’t fuckin’ encourage him! Don’t do that shit!”
“Sheesh, sorry, I was just saying–!”
“Well, DON’T. Don’t talk to him.” Francis sighed heavily over the phone, and Richie picked at his shoes, sullenly trying not to feel down about the entire thing. He really did want his husband back. He really did miss him.
Last night had been a real eye-opener.
Messing with the wrong person had landed them both into a great deal of pain. He had realized that his selfishness and his desire to be desired had led them to where they were today. Mainly because of his own mistake.
And Francis had done a lot of things that had pulled at Richie’s wariness of his promises–he had cut down on a lot of the things that had made Richie want to leave him. He had been trying. And he had been trying for a lot longer than he had, before. In a way, realizing this and having Francis away from him made him do a lot more thinking about the situation as well. He had thought he’d be happy for Francis to be gone–but instead, it was the opposite.
He wanted to fix things; make them better again. He thought immediately of Ivan, chewing nervously on his thumbnail as he regarded the street with some thought.
“Things’ll get fixed, I guess,” he heard Francis say sullenly. They said their goodbyes, and as Richie hung up, he sighed heavily.
Later that night, Ivan was busy overlooking the calls he’d missed while he, Shiv and Dominic had been out to perform the second of their rescue duties–because after he’d talked to Francis, Richie had found himself being held at gunpoint by a hooker that had been hired out by Alva Junior, who was certain that to get Static’s attention was to get him. Richie was quite amused at the length of time it had taken to get ‘rescued’ by his former kidnappers, and had been quite humored by the situation. Static had baby duty that night–but Richie wasn’t that concerned. After all, to someone that had as much kidnaped as much as he, it really wasn’t that scary, anymore.
He was in their bedroom, changing out of his blood stained clothes (Junior had lost a fingertip when Richie proved that he didn’t like being jabbed in the cheek for being ‘so cooperative’) when Ivan walked in. It was a good thing he hadn’t had his hair done, yet. His clothes had been white before the rescue.
“I ain’t doin’ anymore of that bullshit!” he snapped, looking wholly exasperated. Richie felt the need to sit in the corner, and looked at him with cheer. “No more! You get your ass snatched by someone else, I ain’t comin’ after you!”
“That’s fine,” Richie said, grinning at him. “I’m used to it. Eventually, someone comes along and pulls me out. Besides, I’m not exactly helpless. Another five minutes, and I would’ve have needed any help...”
“...This comin’ from some stupid whitebread tossed into a fuckin’ tub of water–chained.”
“Hah! I rival Houdini!” Richie continued grinning at him, noting that Ivan had already taken notice of the bruises and bite marks from Daniel. But the black man said nothing, merely looked at him with reproach.
He pulled another shirt on over his head, and sat down at the edge of the bed. His expression lost his cheer, and he took a deep breath. “Um...I...I just want to apologize for the other night, Ivan. I was only trying to make you mad. I didn’t really mean all those things.”
Ivan looked up from his cell, giving him a bored expression. He then shifted it into a scowl after some moments of thought. Richie could see the suspicion in his eyes, looking and waiting for angles.
“I know that.”
“But...see...the thing is, Adam didn’t get to where he is today without you. Without you, he...I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have succeeded at anything. You were the one that raised him, and parented him. You sacrificed a lot for him.”
Ivan’s scowl was dark enough for Richie to feel put down, once more. Adam was always a sore subject for the older man. “...Shut up about him.”
Sensing Ivan’s steadily rising sensitivity to the issue, Richie hurried on with, “And I truly respect that of you, Ivan. You just...Francis was right about you. You are an okay guy. Just...misunderstood, I guess.”
“Now that that’s outta your system, don’t ever speak of this bullshit again. I don’t wanna hear about my fuckin’ brother. I don’t wanna hear you saying shit about him or me again.”
Richie grinned at him, leaning back on the bed, jiggling one of his knees. “Fine. Okay. But I just wanted to let you know. You are a fucking prick, sometimes. But I think that’s just a cover. Cuz inside, I’ll bet you’re just a teddy bear. You know, if you were really all sour and angry? You wouldn’t have done what Francis asked. And you certainly wouldn’t have gone that mile for Theresa. You done a lot of things that disprove your evil qualities...an’ I just wanted to let you know that.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. But he turned away to fiddle with his cell, giving him his back. “You always so fuckin’ preachy after somethin’ like that?”
“No. I just...with Francis being away, I just...I learned my lesson, like I said. I need to...I need to fix things. I especially want to fix this ‘thing’ with you. You’re always going to be a big part of my life while I’m with Francis. I can’t just...fuck things up by...doing what I did. Playing with you.” Richie gave him an uncertain expression, taking off his glasses to clean them. “I don’t want things to continue badly between us. I’ll still give you shit from time to time, but...other than that, it’s better to be friendly with you than...than not.”
Ivan considered his words–realized that he was right. Their common bond was Francis–as long as Richie continued loving him, the blond was going to be as big a part of his life as Francis was. His eyes narrowed as he checked off one more thing that he hated about this relationship, about their link. He had to wonder what sort of reaction he’d get if he set out a contract against Francis–have someone do him in so that the link would be severed in this manner.
But he couldn’t do that.
It felt as if he were plotting against himself, and that left him terribly uncomfortable. And even more sullen. The very thought left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, and he sighed with resentment.
He looked up quickly when Richie stood, and watched him close the space between them. Both startlingly and discomforting was the hug the blond administered, making every one of his limbs stiffen with the unexpected surprise. He was still rigid when Richie then kissed him gently, with none of the forward advances and feelings of reciprocation. Just a gentle touch of lips on his.
Ivan didn’t do anything, didn’t feel any action to push him away, or curse at him. Just took the intimate touch with nothing more than a sullen frown. The blond then said nothing more as he turned and left the room.
Ivan spent the rest of the evening thinking about those things. He was partly torn between satisfaction and a sense of disappointment that made him seriously reconsider himself. He enjoyed games. He loved the gratification of playing against an opponent, and being able to take them down with a laugh. He enjoyed other people’s pain and troubles–as long as they didn’t concern him.
In a mixed sense of feeling, he didn’t like that Richie was backing out. He had grown to enjoy what was happening between them. He wasn’t falling in love–no, that was beyond his reach. He just enjoyed the battle that he had with himself, and the one he had going on with the blond. He liked to distract himself from other points of thinking into wondering what Richie was going to spring on him, next; to wondering when Francis was going to catch on; to wondering what Ivan himself would do once the move was set.
He still thought about sex–but there wasn’t a way NOT to. Sure, since that night, he’d noticed the blond more often; noticed the way he interacted with others, the subtle way he raised his eyebrows in response to something. The way the corner of his mouth quirked at something he found troublesome. The way he smelled when coming back from the gym down the street. Ivan noticed these things, and found himself hating him for all of that. For using that link he had with Francis to find the blond much more interesting than he had before.
Ivan wasn’t sure if he actually really hated the blond–but perhaps he just hated the cleverness of his game playing.
At the same time, he also admired that. It was something to respect, in a way of thinking.
He didn’t want the game to end, but if Richie wasn’t going to play, there wasn’t any way Ivan was going to convince him to stop. After all, that would be admitting to something that Ivan would not want to admit to anyone aloud. Shiv knew that there was something going on between them, but with his limited understanding, he didn’t know the extent of things being played. But Ivan often caught the Asian staring at them closely, his eyes searching and looking for things that shouldn’t be displayed.
Ivan could trust Shiv with anything–but on another level, he was starting to feel a little bad in that he was using him against Francis. If Francis found out that Shiv knew about these things, there was no doubt that Francis would go after him, as well.
That was the thrill of it all–wondering when and if Francis would find out. Part of the game was keeping all of these feelings in check so that Francis wouldn’t suspect what was going on. Ivan had thought that Francis had seemed suspicious a few times, but other than that–the redhead really had no clue as to what was being played behind his back.
In a way, Ivan felt sorry for him. Because Francis devoted himself to his husband; his thoughts, his feelings, his actions–all his determination in making things straight and all his insecurities left Ivan feeling rather...evil. In a pleasantly warming way. Because it just added to the thrill of the game.
But all of it was going to stop!
He had to wonder about that. He wanted to gloat and laugh at the blond for landing his husband in jail and for that unspoken incident the other day. He wanted to rub it in–the blond had fallen twice, and he’d picked himself up the first time; had upped the stakes with his sexual advances. Ivan was very curious as to how Richie was going to handle this fall back.
Ivan hated himself for finding Richie so interesting. For devoting most of his time into thinking of what the blond would do, what he was thinking. Anticipating whatever sneaky trick he was going to pull.
In a way, Ivan knew he’d fallen, too. For falling prey to this constant thinking of Richie, for obsessing over such things with all the mind set of a man possessed.
He wasn’t in love–no, it wasn’t love. Just...fixation. Probably not even that. It wasn’t as if he were turning around and displaying his affection; he wasn’t changing his tune around him. He still continued to insult and ignore Richie the same way he had before. And when he spoke, he was just as cranky and belligerent as before. It wasn’t as if he thought of being the blond’s savior, or his protector–whichever. Francis had asked him to do something, and Ivan had agreed mainly because he was fixated on the game.
He had to narrow his eyes in thought, exhaling smoke into the night air. He was standing on the back deck, and Richie had gone to bed already, sullen over something that had happened earlier today. Shiv was playing video games with Freddie, and alcohol was flowing freely from the cans that were being passed around. Ivan himself was a little buzzed, but that was about it. Richie had started drinking with them, but the moment Freddie started asking him questions about that night, he'd stopped and left the room. Ivan had posted himself outside because he needed a cigarette, and he'd lost himself in these thoughts since then.
What if this relinguishment was another part of Richie’s game? Throwing him off the same way he had the other night? Perhaps he was just saying this, just to calm things down, a bit. Perhaps he didn’t mean it at all. Just making sure Ivan settled a little before springing something more onto him.
But what else could Richie do that would upset Ivan? The blond could push him into anger, into madness, into sex-obsessed relations, but what other aspects could he spring? Perhaps a more exculpatory approach–to sidle his way into Ivan’s mind with being friendly and impeccant, then spring something totally different onto him.
One thing was for sure–Ivan was hooked.
Into wondering his next move, his next action; he hated himself for it, but fed off his own anticipation. It made things exciting.
He had to wonder what was next.