#tranto

it's one of those days, the harder ones, and grognak leaves him with troy to run across the street. anto spies a colourful wig in the distance and faintly hears a distinctively high-pitched, accented voice, so he pulls his cigarette from his lips long enough to half-assedly cross himself and send up a grateful prayer that it won't just be the three of them soon. the relief sours when he catches troy giving him a weird look and anto sneers, "the fuck are you looking at?"

troy's hands come up placatingly and all it does is put anto's teeth on edge. "nothin', nothin'. just, y'know..." troy casts a look across the street and smiles to himself for a moment. when his attention turns back to anto he's wearing a different expression. he looks irritated. if he were a meaner person he'd almost look spiteful. "why do you keep coming back? i won. both times, actually."

he's delighted and infuriated in equal measures. it's not often he gets to see this side of troy, the pettier, more passive-aggressive side. he's better at behaving than anto by a mile. and while he'd love to push and prod the other man to see how far he can take it, they're working with a time limit. he rounds on troy to stand in front of him, blocking his view across the street, and drops his cigarette to grind it out under his heel in the same movement, using the momentum to loom closer until he feels the brim of troy's hat brush against his forehead. to his credit, troy doesn't step back, but he does flinch the slightest bit, enough to put a smug smile on anto's face.

"you keep telling yourself that, but i'm still here, still alive, aren't i, troy. you really think i'd go off with my tail between my legs while you're cuttin' about with groggers on your arm?"

troy opens his mouth to reply but anto catches the flick of his eyes over his shoulder in time to be prepared when he hears grognak's apprehensively curious "anto? you two alright? troy?"

slapping on a grin, anto twists to face grognak, and posy who's just behind her, and slings an arm around troy's shoulders, pointedly leaning his weight on him as a warning. "we're grand, groggers. just havin' a chat, weren't we, sweetheart?"

he doesn't know where that came from.

something lurches unpleasantly in his stomach, but anto ignores it for the moment in favour of watching the chain reaction he's elicited.

troy blanches beside him and sputters out a bewildered, "y-yeah. me and anto were just- just chatting, grog."

"sweetheart?" posy echoes skeptically, looking between the two of them like she's missed something important.

but best of all is grognak. she stares at them for a beat or two then focuses on him (on him!) and breaks into her brightest grin yet.

she steps close and anto straightens, the arm around troy going lax as his attention narrows to the tall figure in front of him. he barely feels troy shift uneasily against his side because his world abruptly narrows to the hand that grognak places on his other arm, squeezing lightly and setting his skin on fire even through the layers of fabric and leather.

"don't go running off on me now, boys," grognak warns, and though her tone is playful, anto knows instinctively that she's entirely serious. "you two aren't having a romantic getaway without me."

he doesn't even have it in him to correct her with her hand is still curled around his bicep.

so now, somehow, he calls troy sweetheart. there's no affection to it, it's a means to an end, and what an end it is. it's an accidental jackpot. anto gets to see troy flounder, to see the bastard either squirm and turn red or glare at him from over grognak's shoulder. there's nothing troy can do about it. they're both in the same boat, pretending to tolerate each other for grognak's sake.

but much more importantly, he gets to bask in the new levels of grognak's attention that he's won himself. for every offhand "sweetheart" anto throws at troy he's rewarded with more frequent genuine smiles and brushes of a gloved hand along his arm.

there's really no other option except to stride over to ramee, shove his gun aside, and ignore his protests in order to hiss at him to get back into the car.

"not him. shut up and get back inside, we'll get someone else. just– not this one, alright?"

the lack of a put-on accent combined with his tone must be serious enough that ramee bites his tongue for the moment, apart from a stray "what the fuck?" and climbs back into the car with what's obviously a suspicious glance at him despite the mask he's wearing.

as soon as they're the only ones on the sidewalk, anto grabs troy by the bicep and drags him away from the car, keenly aware of the eyes on them and pointedly ignoring the sputtering protests from the other man. he shoves troy far enough away that he's reasonably sure they won't be heard before he releases him and tugs his balaclava up enough to reveal his face despite his every instinct telling him to keep his face concealed.

"not a word of this to groggers, alright? you don't breathe a word of this to her," he demands, steamrolling over troy's confused "anto?"

glancing over his shoulder at the waiting car, anto gives troy a shove to the shoulder for good measure and moves in to whisper harshly, "the fuck are you doing out here by yourself anyway?"

troy's gaze tracks his glance towards the car before flicking back to him, and everything about him radiates confused gratitude. "my car broke down, i was just–"

"fuck's sake. i don't give a shit," anto groans, digging into his pockets for a repair kit and shoving it into troy's chest when he finds it. "leg it out of here, yeah? and get a strap," he finds himself saying, "unless you plan on letting anyone take you hostage."

"i have a gun," troy protests, kit clutched to his chest. "my first instinct isn't to pull it on someone, though."

anto stares at him. this is the guy that beat him in a duel. not for the first time, he's disappointed in himself.

shaking his head, anto shoves the other man back in the direction he's pretty sure he came from. "crack on, then. next time, keep posy with you, she's got better instincts than you could ever hope for."

troy flashes him a wan smile, mumbling, "yeah, guess you're right," and anto rears back, making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and hastily averting his eyes.

he leaves troy there without a second glance, shouldering his way back into the car as he roughly tugs his balaclava back into place and ignores the curious and borderline accusatory stares he knows are trained on him both directly and through the rear-view mirror as they peel away from the curb.

they make it ten seconds down the street before ramee cracks. "so was that your boyfriend or did you go soft on us?"

"fuck off. there's plenty of other people we can take, yeah? that one's... off-limits."

the teasing will be never-ending, he knows it. there's no easy way to explain the situation he's wrapped up in with grognak, how she has him trapped in a perpetual state of check, unable, and unwilling, to get far enough away to declare himself safe from her inevitable wrath should anything happen to troy because of him.

those thoughts get pushed aside in favour of a deliberate laser focus when he spots a new candidate in the distance and smacks k and ramee's shoulders to alert them to their new target.