Work Text:
Curtains drawn.
Apartment dark.
Head in his hands.
Heart amuck, beating madly at the deception, the betrayal of the night.
T'was the stage he was dragged upon, set to tango along a tune of disarray. The end of the show stinging way more than it ought to, after promises of a waltz and a grand applause.
Simply put, he was paid to do a job. To deliver a target from the mortal world onto the next, should there be one. Rumination of what's to come when the living cease was nothing more but a detriment, an act that did little to improve one's abilities.
Morality be damned. He needed money. A lot of it.
Regretting his debt had no purpose, only serving to cloud his brain, to inhibit work. Every rotten coin was worth the cost, he'd pay it again and again if he had to. His palms were bloodlogged, soaked with sin and apathy. His skin was scarred, permanent marks of resistance and a fierce will to live. Will that always proved to be weaker than his own however.
The performance replayed within his mind's eye, the reel spinning over and over.
Ice the broad and move on. Easy. He'd done it before.
A murder that ran through his fingers like water.
The layout of the home was imprinted behind his eyelids, the route he would follow etched into his feet.
Nobody told him she would be late from work, that she'd hitch a ride from a coworker rather than use her own vehicle.
Nobody told him that the children would stay an extra couple of nights, much less that they would be sleeping in the room he'd chosen to enter from.
Nobody told Ishmael that a guest would be waiting for her, wrenched and shaken, sat upon her dingy sofa.
He muttered something, perhaps less words and more of an expression of all that had drenched his body. The turning of a key within a lock accented the vocalization. Light from the hall made its leave as quickly as its entrance, with the flick of a switch it was forgotten. A ratty glow flooded the living space, the exhausted sigh that spilled from him joined its violent flow. The poor excuse for a kitchen located to her right was the first destination, settled upon the counter were loose items and keys. She was clearly distracted by something, failing to notice the mess of a man struggling to stay composed merely a stone’s throw away. On the usual hooks back by the door, she placed her coat, her work gloves, and other protective gear.
Poor thing was nearly startled to death as she went to sink into that ugly sofa.
"Jesus fuck Heath! What the hell are you doing just sitting in the dark?! Damn near gave me a freakin' heart attack... are you sleeping?"
"It... I..."
"... Heathcliff?"
Over to the aged coffee table she sat, piece of junk had another few years left in it to support her weight. Properly across from him, almost on top of him, did her concern continue.
"What... What's wrong? Why are you buried in your hands?... Heathcliff."
"Fucked up on a job today."
"... How?"
Finally he lifted his gaze.
Seeing that look on her face always bugged him, the worry that pooled in her eyes, the anxiety that clogged every wrinkle.
Seeing the bags under his eyes always made hers heavier.
"How... Howdja fuck up? Y-You don't, usually." dread had seeped into every syllable.
"Her- Her fucking brats were home. No one told me her kids would be there." said from a tight jaw.
"Oh God-" gasped from her lips, only to be cut as he kept on.
"Got in through one of the windows, the one I'd been casing for a minute now. The layout was wrong, something was wrong. Got in an' looked around... one of the lil' fuckers was awake, staring right at me." hands digging into his knees as she placed hers on top of them.
"What did you do?" unsure if the tremble was coming from him or her.
"Ran off. Rang a higher-up an' walked 'til I ended up here." head now hanging, fixed upon the clash of their lazy union.
Despite the manual labour, her skin was always softer than his.
Always felt nice.
"They can't hold that against you right? That's not your fault at all!-" she began, working herself up to defend him against an impossible adversary.
"Course not. 's on the client to provide proper intel. Sodding bastard will get punished for it but 's not something I wan' a part of." bringing himself to meet her once more, trying his best to trace patterns with his thumbs.
Swathed in silence they were, neither one knowing how to proceed in a way that wouldn't offend the other.
It was very apparent that he wanted to cry, sob, lament all that had carved this path for him.
Painfully obvious that she wanted to hold him, caress him, reassure the lost and confused child that barged into her life.
Instead another exchange occurred.
Like so many before.
So many to come.
"I'm sorry Heath."
"Stop."
"I am! If it weren't for that-"
"Stop birdie. You know damn well 's not your fault. No one's forcing me to do any of this. Just... Just three- or four more if the rates are shite then I can get us outta here."
"Please! Please I could get you a position somewhere in the company I can't- I don't want this for you anymore-"
"An' what? Have me make nothing but change for the rest of our days? I'll make sure 's three then."
"For Christ's sake Heathcliff! Look at yourself! What if this happens again?! What if you can't get out in time or something worse happens?! Nothing is worth the danger!-"
"You are."
"I'm not worth killing all these fucking people over!"
"'s how the job is. Nothing you or I could do about it."
"You should've let them have me!"
Her head whipped towards the balcony, the sliding glass doors still covered by patchy curtains.
It wasn't fast enough to hide the emotions that welled in her eyes.
This fucking argument again.
Stupid, stubborn bitch.
He held her hands, intertwined their fingers, meeting little push-back. He wanted to lean in, closer and closer-
If only a kiss could make it all better, could put to rest all that swirled within their heads.
If only, if only.
Regret always led to rumination.
"They only wanted ya 'cause of how close we are. If I could turn back the clock I'd buy 'em out every bloody time. Birdie... 's a lil' while more okay?"
"What if she charges you interest? Then what? Gonna slaughter everything 'til you get done in too?"
"Cat- She wouldn't do that. Know ya don't like her an' all but she owes me. Oughta trust me a bit more yanno?"
She turned to him.
Even with the shitty lighting, the grime of the day plastered upon her mug, the pale streak of where a tear cleared a trail-
Frizzy hair, furrowed brows, gritted jaw-
She was still the most gorgeous woman he had ever met.
He had ever loved.
The right hand had slipped away from hers, cupping the beginnings of a gaunt face. The left hand slithered towards her lower back, inviting her into his lap.
"No, I stink. They had me out on the docks- H-Hey!"
"Ya just smell like home to be frank."
"Come on, let go! My neck isn't a pillow! Ugh... Heathcliff please, we can go have a bath- did you just huff me?"
"Hm? Must be hearing things."
"I felt your nose just now! S-Stop it you weirdo!"
He smiled into the cranny he found himself in. Rather satisfied if one were to ask. Leaning back into the sofa he took her with him, both getting more comfortable. Begrudgingly she settled, letting him rub along her sides, letting their breathing sound as one throughout the apartment. She noticed that his eyes had shut. Mostly certainly not wanting to fall asleep outside of the bedroom, she almost caught his attention, hesitating at the last moment when he opened them once more.
"You sure those aren't augmented?"
"Hah?"
"The purple... It's so vivid."
"Freaks ya out?"
"No, the opposite. They're beautiful."
"Oh? Praise?"
"I'll let you yuck it up this one time. It's been a rough night."
"Ya telling me... 'sides if I could afford that kind of rubbish we wouldn't be in this shithole."
"Where would we be then?"
"Down south like ya wanted, edge of this dump. Heard they gots all kinds of amazing grub. Plenty tourist nonsense to have fun with. Even a whole street of posh shops that'll fix up ya looks er'whatnot. Speaking of, your hair's getting longer ain't it?"
"Well... you ...id it would look... ood... or s-something."
"What'cha mumbling for? Out with it lass-"
His lips were dry. Not that hers were any better.
It may have not solved every issue that bore into them however... it did save her the embarrassment of admitting such a trivial desire. Her mop had only reached a breath above her shoulders when they met, now it cascaded along her chest. She was fairly sure he remembered that conversation, that he wished for it to grow more so that he may play with it.
Said it would look good on her.
Dumb, teasing prick.
Their sudden embrace ended, leaving her with an uncontrollable blush, him with an air of content.
"Feel better?"
"Started to the second ya walked in."
"Where do you get these terrible lines from?..."
"Ha. Still wanna grab a shower?"
"Bath. Been standing all day... How are we both gonna fit?"
"Asking a question ya already know the answer to. Ain't you just adorable."
"You- D-Don't stand up so quickly!"
"Not gonna drop you."
"Not the point!"
Any additional fussing was lost on him, not terribly focused on escorting her to the restroom but not entirely invested in her scolding. As he stood in front of the door she reached out towards the knob, pausing as she gripped it.
Familiarity grazed her spine.
Choosing to push away the sensation she looked up at him.
"... Promise it'll just be three. Two if you can get away with it."
"You have my word."
"Just that?"
"Heart. Soul. Love. Body-"
"You know what I mean!"
"I'll gun for two then. I promise."
"Heathcliff... I-"
"Go on an' open it already. You smell like a proper bin."
"Put me down you asshole!"
Well into the night did her lashing continue.
Both of them hoping, among the banter and the splashing, that there would well and truly be only another two showings.