Midnight Secrets

Slick made his way to the phone next, trying over and over to call his right-hand man. But he growled when it went straight to voicemail every time. He better not have fucking left, so help him. He let out a yell and punched the wall, the drywall giving a little at the impact. He huffed and roughly ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a tug. 

He had a week to decide. A fucking week, not a few hours. He gypped him out of this, and now he was gone, leaving Slick to take complete control.


Meanwhile, Boxcars was just getting in, sporting a stab wound on his arm. However, it didn't seem to phase him, being the bulky burly man he was. Just gotta wash it out and wrap it up, all good and new-like.

Deuce had been heading into the lounge but turned around as soon as he saw Slick. No tv for him tonight. Might as well go make himself some sandwhiches. Who knew when Droog would be be back. Maybe he'd make some for Boxcars too, if the larger man wanted some.

Droog turned his headlights off before pulling into the driveway. He was in for it as soon as he walked in. He already knew it. Dinner was hours late and he hadn't gained any useful information today.

What to do, what to do. There was no way in hell he could run this place properly without the taller man to help him out. They were going to fall apart, and then what would Slick have? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, just like when he was a teenager. He couldn't go through that hell again.

Boxcars headed into the bathroom, running the faucet before putting his arm under the stream, wincing in the slightest as the blood flowed out of the wound with the assistance of the water.

Droog was silent when he finally walked in. Hopefully Slick was in bed. Or preoccupied with something in whatever room he was in. He was practically tiptoeing as he made his way down the hall. He was going to his room first, to plug in his phone. Then, he was heading to the kitchen to make a quick dinner.

Deuce stopped at the bathroom. He peeked in to look at the larger man inside. "Sandwhiches?"

He was definitely not shaking. Definitely not shaking as he nearly dropped himself down into one of the chairs of the kitchen. Okay okay, this...this was something he was going to have to deal with. No more would he have someone nagging him over every little thing. No more would he have his suits freshly pressed and hung for the next day. No more would...he have the reliable support of his best man.

Boxcars looked over at the smaller man and grinned at him like nothing was wrong. "Sounds good. Droog ain't back from the stakeout?"

The smallest member shook his head. "I haven't seen him all day. I hope he's okay." Deuce sighed before looking back at Hearts. "What do you want on yours?"

Droog was still deciding on what to make. He was more than likely just going to heat up some frozen pizzas and fries. Slick could just deal with it. They'd have a proper dinner tomorrow night and at a decent time.

"Jus bologna and cheese, nothin fancy. Mustard too." Boxcars said as he pulled out the gauze and bandages.

He couldn't deal with this. Not right now. He needed a drink, is what he needed. He got up and nearly stumbled to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey before grabbing a glass from the cabinet. He poured himself a nice stiff glass before gulping the whole thing down, ignoring the burning and focusing more on the warmth.

Droog froze in the kitchen doorway. Slick was in the kitchen. Most likely waiting for him. And he was drinking. The taller man was silent as he walked over to the fridge. There was no use in hoping the other man wouldn't say anything. This was Spades Slick after all. The man could never keep his mouth shut.

How could he have gone wrong? Was it for shoving that girl into the mud in kindergarden? Or maybe all the countless people he's stabbed. Or even all the clocks he's destroyed- god fuckin' forbid he demolish a scorned creation on Earth. Just as he was about to take another glassful, he heard the door to the fridge open and turned around.

The glass slipped from his hand, falling to the floor, shattering to pieces as the whiskey spilled along with it. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, there he was. He hadn't left at all. Was he just now coming back from the stakeout?

"...Where the fuck 've you been?" He finally mustered up the words, though they sounded more confused and quiet rather than loud and demanding.

Droog was silent as he pulled four pizza boxes and two bags of fries out of the freezer. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Slick or his attitude. The other man could scream and holler all he wanted to right now. The taller man was just going to ignore him. He was still silent as he set the oven to preheat.

Deuce had just stepped into the doorframe before turning back around. He did not want to be around when Slick lost his temper with Droog.

"I said," He growled as he approached the other. "Where the fuck were you?? I thought you were captured or injuried or go--" Gone? He would never admit that, would he? Of course not. That would definitely show more concern, which is considered a weakness.

He could only stare at the other man now, refusing to remove his eyes from
him, still unbelieving that he was back with practically no injuries. He was back here no matter what he thought before.

Droog kept his expression neutral. His was maintaining his silence as he put the pizza and fries on baking sheets. He had seen their smallest colleague appear than quickly disappear. At least Deuce was smart enough to realize when it was a bad time to be somewhere. Droog walked away from Slick and the oven and over to the fridge.

"...Just gonna ignore me, huh?"

All the fire in him was gone, replaced by relief at the fact that he was here, and that's all that mattered. He still had a chance to choose, still had a chance to make things right.

But now, would there even be a choice? It was obvious to him by now what he would choose- who he would choose. But Droog could wait till the end of the week and suffer. Or not. Whatever floated his boat.

"...'S fine. Just glad you're not dead."

Droog snorted as he opened the door to the fridge. He was getting the shredded cheese and pepperoni out first. The puny little frozen pizzas needed more toppings. "I'm surprised you care at all. You haven't cared about anyone but...her the last few months."

Slick moved to sit at the table, letting out a soft grunt of discomfort. Normally he would have rolled his eyes and snorted along with give a hard retort. But instead, he kept in silence for a good while, just watching Droog as he prepped dinner.

"Course I care."

Droog snorted. "You can stop pretending now." He wasn't sure why he was just letting this all out now. He knew he should just hold his tongue, but he wasn't this time. "You don't care about any of us. You care about yourself. We are only around because we're a convienience for you."

"That's not true." Slick suddenly realized that he was on the defense, and ultimately decided that he didn't like it. Not one bit. But he was going to lose them all if he kept this up, and that was the last thing he wanted. He just didn't like admitting it.

"Could have fooled me." Droog was back at the oven. He was placing pepperonis on the pizzas. He didn't know why he was even bothering to do any of this. They all knew Slick would, and was going to, choose the little she-demon. The rest would need to learn to cook for themselves once he left.

"So what would you do if I chose to stop havin' anything to do with her, huh?" Hypothetically of course. This certainly wasn't a question of literal proportions. No, simply some hypothetical questioning of hyper hypotheticalness.

"You're not going to Slick." Droog opened the oven door when it beeped, signaling it was preheated. The door slammed shut after he put the pizza's in. "There's no point in discussing this any further." He was practically punching the timer buttons.

"How the fuck do you know? I just might surprise ya.Just may be dropping hints here or there because just sayin' shit just isn't how I work. Ever think of that, Droog?" He frowned heavily now, knowing the other was just going to make him come out and say it.

Droog crossed his arms as he turned to face Slick. "You're a selfish, inconsiderate bastard. It doesn't take a genius to know who you will pick." The taller man could feel his gut twisting. He was angry. He'd even admit to himself he was hurt. Jealous even?

Slick frowned at that, opening his mouth to retort before he came to a realization. He could detect something behind Droog's words, though he wasn't sure what. He studied the other for a moment before he blinked slowly. "...This isn't just about her. It's somethin' else, isn't it? You're treating this a little too posessively."

Could it be...

Droog frowned, trying to scowl at Slick. "Make your own damn food. I'm not your slave." He was practically stomping as he left the kitchen. The leader of the Midnight Crew had never particularly been good at reading his second in commands emotions. Fuck, Droog wasn't even really sure himself exactly what he was feeling right now. The idea of Slick and Sn0wman made his blood boil. Much more than it should. Was he really jealous of her being with Slick?

Oh no, he wasn't getting away that easily. He was already up and out of the chair, following after Droog to the best of his ability. "Never called you nor considered you as a slave, Droogsy. If somethin' else is really fuckin' bothering you, then why don't you man up and just tell me, huh??" He growled at him, trying to hide his smirk. He was on the offence again, and he was really enjoying it.