ain't no rest

Unbothered, Damien sat back at his desk, cleaning his nails with the corner of a Casino key card. He could feel Lorcan's sneaky eyes all over his papers...

"Tut tut tut..." He stops him before he could add anymore remarks. There was more to teach him... All in due time.

"We've spoken of your aptitude with mathematics before, Lorcan... They are deeply appreciated out there but in here..." He gives him a quick glance up as a soft warning before returning to his nails. "All is how it should be."

He allows a moment for the silence to set in. Muffled music can be heard from the outside. Then, almost suddenly, his self-grooming stops and his eyes return to the young devil. Damien is serious, perhaps even a little hurt.

"However... You aren't the only one with sharp eyes..." He warns. "I was informed that you've been distracted lately. Messing up the count, making a few too many dreams come true... You, of all people, know we do not run a charity here. And I know that you are wiser than to try and cause trouble... You're smarter than that." He sighs, frustrated. This isn't a conversation Damien wants to be having. He takes another pause.

His tone soften, almost concerned. "This isn't like you, kid. What's ailing you?"

"Someone's been spreading rumors about me. I can count cash in my sleep," He rolls his eyes, hands confidently on hips. If he gives Damien an inch in this conversation, that'd be the most damning evidence of all. If all Damien has is the word of the scum that works here, then he has nothing. Lorcan would know, since he is also scum that works here.

The comment about his "aptitude" is rich, considering Lorcan is right about the formula correction. But that's just his luck for trying to help out the boss, his aptitude for math was exactly what got him sucked into Snake Eyes in the first place. And the lure of making money. Lots of money.

"I do my best," His best to stay on Damien's good side, that is. As long as the conversation stays on the topic of money, the dealer figures he's in the clear. It's not like Damien has cameras all over town... right? "I thought you liked when we kept the tourists here as long as possible."

Tim's heart is racing, feeling Lorcan so close and seeing him actually smiling at him. He almost whimpers from how happy he is seeing Lorcan smile.

He melts into the kiss, sliding his hands from Lorcan's shirt up to wind around his neck and tangle into his green hair. He lifts the leg Lorcan grabs, hooking his thigh on his... fuck it, his Lorcan, and pressing their bodies impossibly closer.

Tim can't remember the last time he'd kissed Lorcan in public. He remembers that at some point it wasn't safe but that was quickly followed by their break up so it's all mixed together in pain. But the thrill that runs up his spine from being able to do this, it has him gasping into the kiss and deepening it.

Finally, he has to stop them because with how tight his already tight jeans are getting, he knows continuing means leaving for privacy and he's not ready for that yet.

"So, little devil," he says, breathless, "did you learn how to dance in last few years?"

Leave it to Tim to always know what to say to throw Lorcan off. If anything, this was just confirmation that this whole thing has just been a massive scheme to get Lorcan at his most vulnerable and make a fool out of him. Not that Lorcan really thought Tim would do that... But he wouldn't put it past the Lost Boys in general.

"I can't dance," The dealer shook his head. On second thought though, if he doesn't take Tim out to the floor, he might just have to watch Tim dance with someone else, and that would probably ruin his night more than anything else.

carmine answered after a soft, awkward pause. her brain had short circuited at the question. nothing was stopping her from saying korea- it was a broad and far away country. it's not as if she needed to go into specifics like which province or city she came from. yet the second her origins came into question it felt as if a semi-honest answer would expose her and everything she's built so far.

"it's in canada," carmine continued, coughing into her hand and pretending she had something stuck there. "middle of nowhere canada."

"So you decided to move to middle of nowhere New Hampshire instead?" Hey, no judgements, but Lorcan just couldn't imagine anyone willingly coming to Godscobh and setting up shop here. Must be a transplant thing.

"Whatever, Mada-tucky sounds delightful," He raised his hand in a mock surrender, not pressing Carmine on it further, "But just saying, you could make a mint if you started selling those dick cakes for bachelorette parties."

Tim lets Lorcan lead them to a more secluded spot. He spins them so his back is pinned against the wall and Lorcan is in front him.

"No, but you make it easy," Tim says with a giggle. Then his smirk softens to a genuine smile. "I figured if we are going to try again, we're going to be hiding a lot. Why not take one opportunity to not hide. Be proud or whatever this is."

He gestures around them. All the different people celebrating their identities with people, music, lights, and fun.

"We never had a place like this when we were together before."

"Tim..." I was always proud to be with you. The words are hard to get out, so he just pulls Tim closer, impossibly close for the first time in ages, and kisses him. It's as easy as breathing, after all this time. Easier, in fact, given the fact that he had two other times to get this perfect, and he did not want to screw it up a third time. He could not let Tim go.

It's instantly too much and not enough. Lorcan lets go of Tim's hand, but only to grip the other man's thigh and push him up against the wall. He's feeling far too weak right now to not show off his strength in other ways. He hopes Tim feels safe with him.

Tim laughs, only barely heard over the music.

"I liked you in crop tops. Not the same as liking them."

He glances around, making sure he doesn't recognize anyone immediately around them. Then he takes Lorcan's hand in his. He raises it to kiss each fingertip, pulling his ex(?) closer to him.

"You look good," he says finally.

The dealer pulled Tim a little further towards a wall, so they wouldn't be out in the open. Though he may be able to claim they were just two randoms who wanted to flirt at the bar, he didn't want to tempt fate either. Anyone could be watching. He already felt like he'd run out his luck just by holding Tim again.

"Did you invite me here just to roast me?"

the question was mostly teasing, though her gaze flickering to the window where festivities were happening. she understood that part of the fun was expressing yourself freely without prejudice or judgement. carmine was not judging.

but she also was not used to seeing the amount of body that was being displayed. carmine was both impressed and now concerned that she might be expected to wear such fits. the amount of scars she kept hidden did not need to be exposed like that.

"or.... dick popsicles?"

"Not unless you're buying," He shrugs. This events was decently family friendly anywhere, if you stayed outside. They could slut it up inside the bar if they wanted, but Lorcan figured Carmine wouldn't be into that scene, "What, you've never been to one of these? They didn't have parades in...?" Come to think of it, he doesn't really know where Carmine is from.

Tim can admit that he's taking a page out of Lorcan's high school playbook on being a menace to the guy he likes but really, the guy should've seen something like this coming. For starters, Tim has refused to reply to most texts. Instead, he's snuck to Lorcan's apartment and left notes at the window that he really should lock (but he's not going to and Tim can't help smile every time it opens). And he does this when he knows Lorcan isn't there so there hasn't been much face-to-face action (or face-to-face action focus Tim!).

But he knows he shouldn't drag this out for ever (a few months should be enough) so finally he leaves a note and all it says is:

See you at Sappho's this weekend

Now here he is, participating in what is most definitely one of the most anticipated nights for the club and he's shaking with anticipation.

He sees Lorcan before Lorcan sees him and he takes full advantage of that, sneaking up behind him, slipping hands onto his waist and pressing close to his back, whispering in his ear, "Should've known you'd wear something that ridiculous."

Also, he probably would've gone to Sappho's anyways. At least that's what he tells himself when he gets all prettied up for a night out.

When he feels someone's hands on him, the dealer whips around with a start, pulling his forearms up to push the person off, "What the fuck-?"

Once he realizes the hands are Tim's though, the touch is welcome, if a little scary, "Fuck off," He pushes back with a relief, "You used to like crop tops."

Tim breathes through getting bandaged, savoring the touch of Lorcan's hands on him again. The rooftop has been lingering on his lips for so long and this is not how he'd wanted any sort of meet up happen. But he did sit on his ass for longer than he should've trying to come up with the best way so maybe this is the best he's going to get.

"I'd let you haunt me," he says. "And I want to stay. God, I fucking want to but... it's not just me this time. I've got to check in on people."

He puts a hand on Lorcan's arm, not harsh, not needy. Just touching and trying to say the hard to say stuff through it.

"I'll be back though," he finally says. "Once things are calm and I don't have people on my ass for this. And if you're okay with that, then maybe don't lock the window."

He leans forward and kisses Lorcan's cheek.

"Okay," Lorcan nods with tight lips, stopping himself from saying anything else. His hands release from under Tim's shirt, turning away to just lean on the counter. The kiss burns his skin, but it's a nice feeling, "Sure."

Did he really believe Tim would be back? Not really. But he'd been nice enough to patch Tim up, so he could be nice enough to not pick a fight at this point and just let the Lost Boy go.

Tim laughs then winces from it. He hopes that's enough to cover up how his heart skips a beat when Lorcan calls him, "babe."

"You really should anyway. What if I'd finally decided the only way to get over you was if you were dead? I could get in without a problem."

Not that he ever would get to that point, though he's scared of the day that he might get an order to do just that. Could he do that? Could he continue on after if he did?

He lets Lorcan bandage him up without much fuss. He can scream in the safety of his apartment later.

He can't tell Tim not to say those things, because it would just make him a hypocrite for letting a 'babe' slip out and letting his hands linger a little on Tim's waist when he comes up. It's so easy to fall back into the tender, fond banter that speaks to the years they knew each other. Too easy, considering Lorcan really can't trust any of the Lost Boys further than he could throw them, and that includes Tim now.

"Easy, I'd haunt you," What he means as a barb comes out a little too genuine-sounding. He can't even hold it over Tim's head when he's also clearly not ready to let go of it all.

He lets his eyes linger over Tim's for a long moment, and figures in for a penny, in for a pound, "You should stay. It's late. Everyone's going to be drunk driving, hard to get home."

The worst part about arguing with your ex is when they're right. And Lorcan is right. A lot.

Tim takes the ice and presses it to his face. He shuts his eyes and listens as Lorcan putters around getting first aid supplies. When he hears Lorcan returning, Tim carefully starts to pull up his shirt. No point in fight this part. He hisses and groans with nearly every movement. All the pain was starting to really crash into him now that his adrenaline was seriously crashing along with it.

"It doesn't need to be pretty," he says. "Just needs to get me back to my place."

On the opposite side of town.

He's so incredibly fucked. Ironic considered he's back here of all fucking places.

More questions arise when Lorcan realizes there's splinters stuck in Tim's shirt and his side, like he'd gotten slammed into or scraped along something wooden. He doesn't have the equipment for decent stitches, but he can tape up the gauze and antibiotics he does have to stop the beads of blood from coming up though Tim's shirt.

"Anything for you, babe," Lorcan's stress is evident, but at least he's good for a laugh, "So do I need to start locking my windows?"

The words “What is that?” nearly come tumbling out of his lips before he can stop them, but he thinks better of it and successfully reins in his curiosity for the moment. It’s a… cigarette, he thinks. He has seen cigarettes before. They were available in almost any store, everywhere, and he would often find their butts littered along the streets — especially near the casino.

Now, this one doesn’t look or smell like any cigarette he has ever come across — but if Lorcan had been smoking it, how bad could it be, really? Blinking owlishly at it for a moment, he rolls it between his fingers before tentatively bringing it to his lips to follow in his friend’s example and do as he had done.

It’s common for first time smokers to cough. To struggle and choke as they draw smoke into their lungs and their body rejects it, attempting to violently expel it back out of them in the only way it can — but he doesn’t seem to struggle at all. He smokes with an ease that suggests he has done it before.

It burns, yes, but not in a way he doesn’t necessarily like. It tastes bad, and it smells worse, but it feels… good. It feels good.

No sooner than the smoke billows from his lips, he allows his backpack to slump from his shoulders before following his friend further into the apartment and taking a seat beside him, crossing his legs underneath himself as he hands the lit cigarette back to Lorcan.

“Was that it? The pixie dust?” The youth asks, perhaps a little too bluntly.

Anyone who hangs around the less picturesque parts of Godscobh as often as he does is bound to come across hushed whispers of the words pixie dust at some point — but hearing about it is not the same as knowing what it is, particularly for someone as clueless and inexperienced with the realities of this world as he is.

@childofhcll

"Does it look like dust?" He raised an eyebrow in question before remembering P didn't know what the casino was, barely knew how to protect his own money before latching onto Lorcan and not letting go, "It's called weed, or marijuana. Well, it's got a couple different names, but it's just something you smoke, basically."

Damn, Lorcan wasn't sure if he wanted to sign up to be a teacher, but apparently he already was. He beckoned P over to his coffee table, with the smallest amount of pixie dust Lorcan could reasonably sneak out of Snake Eyes set out for him. He's read once that you weren't supposed to mix depressants like weed with accelerants like dust, but again, this seemed like the most minor, inoffensive way to introduce P to everything. It'd be far worse if P happened upon a mysterious mix of drugs on the street and snorted them off a fingernail.

"You don't have anything?" Lorcan realized once he was already in the living room that P did not have anything to set down, "Okay, I guess you're learning how to roll a joint today too." He has a grinder and filters for the weed already, but figured P would at least know the basics, "Sit, sit, it'll be easy. We need these papers so that we don't inhale anything else." This was going to cleanest hit of pixie dust anyone's ever taken, it seems.

Tim chugs the water and tries not to stare too much. Lorcan in low lighting (well, any lighting really) is just too tempting and sending his probably concussed head into a tailspin.

"It really doesn't matter," he says. "Besides, the less you know the better. Trust me. If it doesn't end up in the news, I'll eat my own shoes."

He chuckles then winces. Damn, it's going to be a rough week healing up from this.

"I think I should go."

"Fine, leave when you want, but we're getting you patched up first," He grabbed ice packs from the fridge, handing one off for Tim's head and pressing another to the shaking in his ribs, "Nothing's gonna look more suspicious than you walking around with bruises."

"Oh goodness, goods and services only!" She laughs, unable to help herself. She is delighted by his flair, and his snark. She does come here for business, naturally, but the company sure does help, she thinks.

"Reconsidering our paths and choices are all well and good, but they don't exactly keep the lights on, now do they?" She cannot help but to tease back. She used to be there, on the other side of the table. Not this table, of course, but a table back in Taipei. Though it was far more stylized than this one, with a very different sort of uniform.

"You keep talking like that, I'm gonna be the one with my lights knocked out," He chuckles, but there's a bitterness to it. Lorcan has long signed away any potential to have the kind of money and security that Antonia has. He doesn't hold it against her, of course, but it's a little cruel to hang in front of his nose like a carrot, "You're quite good at cards though, what with that beautiful poker-face. How about a good, honest game and we'll just see how it goes?"