#back to regularly scheduled replies and starters i owe tomorrow

[alois-the-real-boy]

JULY THIRTIETH

Colony 22 AU Bingo: crime/mafia

January Twenty-fifth.

“And you found him, where?”

“Skulkin’ around inside the garden wall.”

Alois looked down his nose at the man held kneeling in front of him, hands loosely pocketed in impeccably tailored slacks and line of his body awfully relaxed, for someone who was being presented with a man contracted to kill him.

Just another Sunday.

Crouching, he tried to get a look at finely carved features past dusty blond hair matted with blood, inclining his head with an expression that held little apprehension; only curiosity. “Who sent you?” He paused but, predictably, received no response. Alois reached out with his right hand -- the other was clad in a fine, soft leather he wasn’t about to get dirty -- and touched the pad of his thumb to the corner of a split lip. “I asked you a question.”

The man jerked his head away and promptly spat blood across the neat polish on Alois’s shoes. Muscle in his jaw working for a moment as he tried to maintain his patience, Alois eventually grabbed the man’s bruised chin with an equally bruising grip of thumb and forefinger. “I’m going to be lenient with you, because quite frankly, I’m impressed you got as far as you did. But let me be clear: you’re only living because I’m letting you, and you’d be wise never to cross my line of sight again.”

Contrary to that statement, the hitman fixed him with a cold, determined look that coiled uneasily in the pit of Alois’s stomach. “You’re not the one I’m taking orders from right now. And I don’t go back on a contract.”

“Don’t you?” Alois tilted his head, eyes flickering between icy blue to match his own before pushing the man’s chin to the side derisively. He held up a hand, one of the brutes materializing from the dim corner of the room to place a handkerchief in it, which Alois used to wipe the blood from his hand and then from his shoe before straightening. “I think we’ll be seeing about that.”

January Twenty-ninth.

“Modius?”

“Mm. New to the area but already, supposedly, one of the best in the game. Possibly the best. Contracts solo. He’s not tied to any family or organization save by business. Very lucrative, very violent business.”

“Clove Modius.” Alois repeated the name as he peered out the window and over the moonlit lawn with a faraway gaze.

Lise pulled her hair over one shoulder, affixing a sparkling string of diamonds around her delicate neck as she watched her brother in the vanity mirror. “I know that look. I never like what’s coming, after that look.”

Alois broke from his thoughts to meet Lise’s gaze, then half-smiled as he crossed to stand behind her, one gloved hand and one bare coming to rest on her shoulders. Lise immediately covered his right hand with hers, even as she fixed him with a dubious look via the glass. He shrugged. “I want one. That’s all.”

“Alois.”

He snickered at her admonishing tone, a quiet but clear sound between them, and squeezed her shoulders. “Trust me.”

“Til the ends of the earth. But I prefer you alive.”

The look she gave him was mixed, and Alois tried to smooth it away by leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her hair. “If all goes according to plan, he’s going to be the one to keep me that way.”

February Eighteenth.

Alois woke to the heavy weight of a body pinning his waist to the bed and the cold press of a blade at his throat, pulling a breath through his nose before he slowly opened his eyes. Clove’s icy stare fixed unerringly on him from the shadows, and against all better sense of self-preservation, Alois caught himself fighting a smile.

They stayed frozen there for a moment, and then two. Finally, when Alois found his throat as of yet intact, he murmured, “Did you kill all my guards?”

Even in the dim light, Alois caught the unimpressed curl of Clove’s lip. “They didn’t even see me this time.”

“Mm.” Muted disappointment, with a mixture of newfound respect. “I’m going to fire all of them, and I’m going to hire you.”

Clove fixed him with an inscrutable look. “My contract isn’t currently on offer.”

“I’ll triple what Dervilia is paying you, because whatever it is, I can already tell that it’s less than you’re worth.” There was a half-second of hesitation before Alois felt the blade press more firmly into his skin. He ignored the stinging edge of it, eyes steady on Clove’s. “Don’t give me any of this ‘honor amongst thieves’ bullshit. My money’s as good as his, and I’d argue the company is far better.”

Emboldened by the simple fact that he was still alive, Alois tried to prove that point by easing a feather-light touch of fingertips past Clove’s knee, starting to wander up his thigh. Clove might’ve stopped him if he hadn’t been using his free hand to capture Alois’s other wrist, preventing him from sneaking his hand beneath the pillow for the revolver hidden there.

Alois actually did smile then, letting his fingertips dig suggestively into the muscle of Clove’s leg when there wasn't much else to prevent him from doing so. He could practically hear the gears turning in the silence that hung between them, and only with a wary look did Clove finally withdraw both blade and hands. Alois slid his own hand back into view, palm open and empty, gun unretrieved in a show of good faith.

“Think we can come to an agreement?”

Clove swatted the hand from his thigh. “I’m listening.”

February Twenty-first.

It was three A.M., but Alois hadn’t been sleeping. He strode down the hall with a frown of grave purpose, his father’s right-hand man flanking him with matched solemnity.

Clove was being held in the front hall, elbows tightly grasped by two of Alois’s more imposing hired muscle. There was no fight or defiance in the hitman’s eyes when they met Alois’s, hands draped in front of him with a loose acquiescence for the handcuffs encircling them.

“Get those off.” The command in Alois’s voice left zero room for argument as he approached and gestured to the bonds. They disappeared immediately before Alois’s goons took reluctant steps back, still clearly prepared for a fight.

Clove rubbed his wrists and glanced between each face in the room before settling on Alois, expression reticent. A bruise bloomed at his cheek that Alois knew his guards hadn’t put there. “I’ve terminated my contract.” There was a weighty pause, in which Alois said nothing. “He’ll come after me.”

“He can try.” Alois shook his head and stepped in, settling his hands on Clove’s shoulders to meet his gaze with an even reassurance. “You’re under my contract and my protection now.”

Clove’s shoulders relaxed fractionally under his hands. Alois took it as a good sign, even as the man nodded. “And you’re under mine.”

May Fifth.

Alois had been too embroiled in his own affairs to notice when the season had turned to spring. Now the days were encroaching on summer, and he stared at the sunrise bleeding up from the horizon in an inescapable tangle of thoughts, enough to distract him from the sound of Clove’s movement.

A lithe, finely-muscled arm secured Alois’s waist from behind, pulling a low, contented hum from the back of his throat. Deft fingers smoothed to flatten over the plot of skin with Alois’s heart thrumming underneath, exhibiting a tenderness that made it difficult to fathom how many lives that hand had personally ended.

It was still a good distraction from his thoughts.

Clove inclined his head to press a kiss where the scars of Alois’s shoulder blended into the smooth column of his neck, his free hand running carefully down the burn-scar mottled length of Alois’s left arm. “Why do you always keep this covered?”

“I like to be mysterious.” Clove obviously didn’t buy it, nipping his teeth at the same spot he'd kissed in a way that teased a soft laugh from Alois’s lips. He then hesitated, considered, and ultimately elaborated. “I feel like if I don’t, then it’s putting that weakness on display. I can’t afford that. The scar tissue, the nerve damage, it’s… extensive."

"Can you feel this?" Clove cradled Alois's hand in his, pulling it close to press a lingering kiss to damage that was decades old.

Alois's brow furrowed. "That's not quite how it works, I--"

"What about this?" Ignoring and interrupting with a brief, pointed glance and a muted smile, Clove pressed another kiss to the marred curve of Alois's shoulder.

He started to catch on. "Hm… I don't know." Alois inclined his head to expose more of his throat, memories of any knife pressed there long forgiven or forgotten. "Should keep trying."

Clove smiled against Alois's skin before grazing the edges of his teeth along the side of his neck, the hand previously settled so protectively over Alois’s heart drifting a path down to splay more suggestively between his hip bones. Alois let his eyes slide shut with a quiet sigh, leaning back into the reassuring solidity of Clove’s body until he couldn’t manage to keep his hands to himself anymore.

Twisting in Clove’s arms to pull him in for a kiss, Alois found him meeting the gesture halfway with a possessive certainty that pooled warmth and reassurance in Alois’s chest. Taking Clove’s hips in a grip that offered no hesitation whatsoever, Alois guided him back towards the disheveled bed with a clear purpose and without breaking the kiss between them.

June First.

“If something happens to me--”

“Alois--”

“Clove. If something happens to me, your contract is transferred to Lise. Do you understand me?” Alois swallowed hard against the pain as Clove put pressure against the wound thickly spilling blood, soaking his shirt with a bloom of red just below his ribs. “If something happens to me, protecting my sister is your primary fucking concern. Tell me you understand me.”

Alois could practically hear the grind of Clove’s teeth in the weight of the pause, and was certain that it was only by some miracle that the man managed to bite back further argument. “Fine.”

“Good.” The word was more a breath of relief than anything else, and Alois let his eyes slowly ease shut. Less than half a second later, Clove was digging the heel of his hand that much further into Alois’s side, and his eyes snapped open again with a sharp gasp. “Jesus fuck.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Alois grit his teeth and glared, petulant, fumbling to grasp at Clove’s wrist when his own hands were slippery with blood. “Like I should be taking advice on how to stay alive from a hitman.”

Clove fixed him with a bland, unimpressed look that seemed entirely too calm and out of place for the gunshots in constant exchange overhead. “It’s not that hard. I run through all the ways I could easily kill you right now, and then I do the opposite.”

“Not reassuring.”

The hardness in Clove’s expression smoothed, and Alois wasn’t sure if he could find that particularly reassuring, either. “Relax. My employer wouldn’t exactly be thrilled if I let you die, and this job comes with pretty good benefits. I’d rather not get fired.”

Alois bit out a laugh, even if it faded into a bloody-toothed grimace. “Seeing as I’m your employer, then yeah: I’d be pretty fucking upset if you let me die.”

June Second.

“You were supposed to protect him.” Lise’s voice tightened to fever pitch, stalking down the hall with a fire and intensity in her eyes that only served to remind Clove of her brother. “That is your job. He trusted you. I trusted you!”

Clove slowed his steps as he came to meet her, the tightness in the line of his body contrasting sharply with the weariness hanging on his shoulders. He didn’t reply. There wasn’t anything worth saying in the face of her anger.

Lise took an abrupt swing at him, fast; but not fast enough. Clove caught her wrist in one deft, practiced hand, and only at this proximity did Lise manage to notice that his stony stoicism was starting to crack and crumble around the edges. His fingers trembled where they circled her wrist, and she could see the edges of his eyes were tinged with a sleepless red.

“You were the only thing he was worried about.” Lise blinked, then frowned. She relaxed her wrist in Clove’s hold, and he gently uncurled his fingers as he continued. “He said that if anything happened to him, my contract belonged to you. That protecting you should be my primary concern. I know that he’s not--”

Lise interrupted him with a mirthless bark of a laugh as she took a step back. “I don’t want your contract. It didn’t do him any good, what’ll it do for me?”

Again, he didn’t reply. All he could do was nod a careful agreement, but instead of turning heel to walk away, Clove stepped in closer. Lise faltered in confusion but didn’t retreat, watching him with sharp, tear-pricked eyes. Wordlessly he reached for her, and with only a moment’s hesitation did she let him, collapsing into Clove’s arms and burying her face in his chest with a dry, heaving sob.

Clove enveloped Lise with an indomitable protectiveness previously reserved only for her brother, tucking her head under his chin.

July Thirtieth.

The man sat alone in a pool of yellow light, tied securely to a rickety chair with thick, rough rope that bit into his wrists and trickled rivulets of blood down defiantly clenched fists.

“It’s been some time since your boss tried to send anyone after me. I thought he’d actually learned his lesson.” Alois straightened up from his lean at the door, ignoring the way fresh scar tissue pulled at his side with the movement. A couple of steps brought him to the edge of the circle, arms crossing over his chest with an understated assuredness. “If he thinks my father’s death has left me somehow unprotected, he is… woefully, woefully mistaken.”

“And you think just because dear ol’ dad is dead, you own this part of the city now?” He spat contemptuously at the floor between them. Alois arched an eyebrow, unperturbed. “You wouldn’t start this war. You can’t. You can’t even touch me, you spoiled fucking brat.”

“Oh, no. You’re right; I most certainly can’t.” Alois took a half-step back to the edge of light pooling on the floor, raising his left hand with a subtle twitch of gloved fingers. “But he can.”

Materializing from the darkness, Clove held nothing but cold, sterile, murderous intent in his gaze, and Alois had the good sense to appreciate his fortune in no longer being on the receiving end of that all-too-familiar expression. The impeccably bad timing wasn’t entirely this man’s fault; there was no way for him to know or comprehend the sheer exponential skyrocket in Clove’s protective and possessive streaks in the span of Alois’s recovery.

Clove casually cracked a knuckle. Their captive paled.

"If you survive this, you'll have to tell your boss he should've paid more to keep this one." Alois smiled and took a lazy step back until he could reach out and give Clove’s shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Because together, we’re going to run this entire goddamn city.”

#col22bingo #self para. #c. modius. #l. van asch. #tw: blood #clove borrowed with lou's permission and constant input ofc! #this is ... over 2.5k words #idek the last time i wrote so much in a go #buckle in #it’s also pretty extra™ and dramatic and ngl i had way too much fun writing it #back to regularly scheduled replies and starters i owe tomorrow #promise!!