Aesthetically Basically

Carlos hunched in the alley and stuffed the bacon into his mouth. The taste of grease, char, and fat exploded on his tongue and filled his mouth with saliva. What he wouldn’t give to eat meat every day. He licked his fingers and wiped them on his shorts.

Cackling laughter echoed somewhere along the alley, quiet and mad.

Carlos licked his greasy lips and hobbled out of the alley. He should probably find Mal. His collected tribute wasn’t enough, but it’d been a slow month. Maybe she’d overlook his measly contribution to pound some other poor sap.

His ankle panged as he made his way to Mal’s hideout. He grimaced, one hand out to steady himself against the wall. Hopefully it was just a sprain. He’d have to have Evie take a look. If she wasn’t too preoccupied with groveling at Mal’s feet.

The elevator cranked its way down and he stumbled inside.

Voices grew in volume as he ascended. Jay, Evie, and Mal’s voices made up the hushed clamor. Carlos’s heart sank. He must be last. Great. Nothing to distract from his pitiful tributary.

He braced himself as the elevator stopped.

“Carlos!” Jay’s eyes lit up. “Get in here, you dog.”

Carlos limped inside, frowning at the semi-darkness that shrouded his gang’s faces. “Uh, guys? Somebody forget to pay the electric bill?” He joked, wincing.

Evie raised her brow, her hair artfully flipped over her shoulder. “Carlos. We have a guest.”

Carlos blinked. “We do?”

“We do,” Mal pronounced, chin raised. Her hands rested on her hips as she turned around, powerful in her black and purple leather. Eyes glinted green as she smirked. “I believe you’ve met Captain Hook’s idiot offspring?” She gestured with a gloved hand.

Carlos’s mouth dropped open.

Harry Hook, Uma’s right-hand man, sat propped against a pole. His head rested against his shoulder, his black-lined eyes smeared and closed. Blood dripped from his mangled brown curls down his face and neck and bloomed into red stains on his shirt. His legs laid strewn before him in a heap. Red and purple blossoms dotted his face and neck and the skin exposed on his chest under his torn shirt.

“Harry Hook?” Carlos looked frantically to his companions, who all met his incredulous look with varying degrees of smugness.

“Uma let him off his leash,” Jay all but purred, crossing his thick arms, “and he thought he could wander into our territory.”

Evie gave the pirate a pitiful look. “It’s just sad, really. No fashion sense, and no common sense.” She met Mal’s gaze and they shared nasty smiles.

“What are we going to do with him?” Carlos asked, lip curling as he leaned back.

“Kill him, trade him, hold him hostage – the possibilities are endless, Carlos.” Mal gave Carlos a condescending smirk.

“Uma would give anything to have him back,” Evie agreed, nodding. Her blue curls bounced.

“But what does Uma have that we don’t?” Jay drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders.

“Nothing,” Mal simped, eyes glinting in the dim light, “but it’d be fun to watch her dance.”

Evie laughed.

“C’mon, let’s figure out a ransom note.” Mal and Evie headed towards the table littered with broken pencils and ink bottles.

Jay bumped shoulders with Carlos before going to join them.

Carlos spared one more glance for the unconscious pirate. His gut twisted.

Harry gazed up at him through half-lidded, cloudy eyes. He winced as he drew in a breath.

It couldn’t be easy to breathe. Jay knew how to tie someone just loose enough to let them draw in short, shuddery breaths.

Carlos grimaced at the memory.

They’d kill Carlos if he loosened Harry’s bonds.

Harry gritted his teeth through another nasally huff.

It’s not love.

It can’t be, they’re villains, there’s no room for love in their lives. No room for stolen glances, whispered confessions, breaths mingling as they catch each other, mid-fight, hardly daring to stop because no one can know –

Harry shifts as Evie curls up against his side, blue curls tickling his neck. It’s uncomfortable, it’s itchy, and he tries to brush it off his neck, but she mutters in her sleep, a slight scowl on her face, and he stills. He’s not in the mood to be stabbed in the throat again.

He’s better than this. Knows better than to let his simpering emotions get the best of him. Knows better than –

Glass shatters.

He jerks, scanning the room, his hand falling to his hook.

Raucous laughter pulls at his ears, but it’s not…it’s not coming towards them, they’re not in danger.

Good. Harry could take them, no problem, but he’d rather have at least one night of uninterrupted sleep, for Evil’s sake. But he has to be on guard, with Evie here. He can’t sleep.

Cold air brushes over his skin, ruffling Evie’s hair. The boards of the lean-to shake against the elements.

He scratches at the dried blood on his chin and flicks the red flecks away.

“Harry,” Evie murmurs, tightening her arm on his waist, “you need to stop moving, okay?”

He purses his lips. “Anythin’ for ya, Princess, but,” he stretches, taking advantage of her waking, “ah’m not exactly comfortable in this part of town, ya know.”

Evie’s sigh is decidedly put-out. “Don’t you trust me to keep you safe from Mal?” She sits up, brushing back her blue curls. She puckers her lips in a red pout.

He bites his lip, eyeing her lips. “Ah trust ya for a lot of things, Princess,” he leans towards her lips, flickering his gaze up to her wide blue eyes, “but Mal hates Uma so much ah hardly doubt she’d pause to listen to ya.”

She smooths a curl out of his face. “Maybe you’re right. But you need to settle down, Harry, you know how anxious you get.” Her eyes brighten. “I know! Jay told me about a riot in the south end. We could join the fun. That always calms you right down.” She cups his face and gives him a bright, brilliant smile.

“We can’t be seen there together,” he grumbles, “or Mal’s big dog Jay’ll tear me to pieces. Or Jonas’ll scalp yer pretty head.”

“It’s a riot, Harry,” she reminds him, primly, back straight and tall, “no one is going to be paying attention to us.”

Wind buffets the metal sheets of the lean-to. He shivers, leaning into her warmth. She pulls off his coat from around her shoulders and drapes it over the two of them.

“Please, Harry?” She bats her long eyelashes at him, her hand pressed up against his chest.

He smirks, cupping her chin. “Ya know ah can’t say no to ya.”

She stands to her feet, skirt flying around her thighs, and grabs her sword.

He grabs his coat before it can flop to the ground and shoves his arms in it.

She gets up on her tiptoes and presses a red kiss to his grizzly cheek. “Thank you, Harry.”

It’ll be balancing act. Harry knows what she means, that no one will be paying attention to them, but still…all it takes is one crewmember spotting Harry or Evie not killing the other for questions to be asked. But the promise of violence is already pumping through his veins. He wants to kill. More than kill, he wants to kill with Evie. He wants her hand in his, her vicious, beautiful smile turned towards him, only him, and he wants to bask in the blood of her slaughter.

It’s not love. It’s just…mutually assured destruction.