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thestayathomedragon · 1 year

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Summary: An ode to RE4RMerceneries!Luis. I fucking love that guy.

drink down that gin and kerosene

Luis fights like a cat.

Listen, Leon has thought a lot about this. So, hear him out. Doctor Luis Serra Navarro fights like a fucking alley cat.

The man fights with his entire body. Just throws himself completely into it with abandon. A flurry of all his ridiculously long limbs.

And even though he’s a bit leaner than Leon, it is all lithe muscle and he uses every bit of it to fling himself forward in a simply absurd looking shoulder check. He swings his whole self along with his lead pipe turned makeshift lance as crowd control. He just about trips over himself while propelling himself forward to kick a downed enemy in the chest.

Jesus Christ. You’re gonna hurt yourself one of these days like that.

Leon just gets a truly unhinged grin and joyous cackle in response for all his trouble. But if there’s one thing Leon can say about his unforeseen partner in this whole mess of a rescue mission—Luis definitely has the spirit.

He fights like his life depends on it. Which, yeah, it does. So, he always goes for the kill. Which, yeah, under these circumstances, he should.

He fights like he doesn’t care if he goes down as long as he takes you down with him.

See, like a cat. And Leon has seen cats tussle growing up. They’re fearless and reckless. They’re not afraid to take on animals three, four times their size. Or, y’know, 10 times the size. (I’m talking about you, you big, armored son of a bitch!) Because cats don’t give a shit if they live or die as long as they know they’ll see you in hell with ‘em.

It’s on sight. Every. Time. Feral and dirty. All sharp claws and teeth, holding on for dear life.

Leon may even have a few scratches of his own to attest to this. He may also be a little traumatized by the experience. Maybe. But not enough to stay away it seems.

It’s definitely not what he expected from the animal, from Luis, at first. Because it’s not elegant in the least. Not becoming of such a sleek and prideful beast but it certainly gets the job done.

But Leon learned a long time ago that cats are a lot tougher than they look. Leon learned not that long ago that Luis is also a lot tougher than he looks. He’d seen the man take the blow back from a stick of dynamite, one he’d thrown himself mind you, and get back up cursing in rapid fire Spanish while knocking the dust off that ridiculous jacket of his like it was nothing. Before unloading an entire clip into one of those chainsaw wielding maniacs.

It was a sight to behold to be sure. And Leon’s cargo pants may have gotten a little tighter in a certain area in response. That is to say that Leon might be a little impressed and maybe a little aroused by what he’d seen from the man so far.

When they get a break to catch their breath, Leon takes him all in. The other man is breathing hard through a bloodied nose, eyes closed. Those cigarettes are gonna be the death of him one day. Luis is sweaty and wearing a Cheshire grin with bloody, sharp teeth. His thick, dark hair is a sweaty, clumpy mess, filthy with god knows what. Adrenaline making him look like some wild thing.

Why does that make him even more attractive to Leon all of a sudden?

Who taught you how to fight like that?

It’s certainly not military training. Unless… Spain is just like that.

Aquí y allá. Luis says with a careless shrug. Eh? You looking for lessons, Sancho?

Clever eyes, storm grey, pupils blow yet focused only on him. Leon catches a chill. He blames it on the cooler air drying warm sweat damp skin.

I could teach you a thing or to, maybe.

_You? Teach me? _Leon snorts. Sure, pal.

He would never be able to pull any of that off. Even with his martial arts training he’s not nearly that flexible.

You’re gonna hurt yourself one of these days. And I’m not gonna be there to pick you back up. He adds shaking his head, trying to get his sweat damp bangs from sticking to his eyelashes.

_Oye, tengo mis métodos, amigo mío. _ Te pondré en forma en poco tiempo.

Luis winks at him.

Leon’s no fool. Well at least not anymore. He knows Luis is flirting with him… has been flirting with him for a while now. He’s not entirely sure how he feels about that. Been there and done that after all. Didn’t even get a t-shirt for his trouble. But Leon has never really been good at learning his lessons. The fact that he’s not concerned in the least about the way the other man gets up on all fours and starts slinking his way over to him with that damned grin on his face probably speaks to that.

Leon knows he has a type and if he tilts his head and squints just a bit… he can see it in the other man.

Leon likes his emotional trauma tall, dark and mysterious. And if nothing else, Luis Serra is nothing if not confounding.

Anticipation. Excitement. Luis sparks all of that in Leon.

The adrenaline still flowing through his own veins is probably… no, it’s definitely making him reckless. There’s a jitter in his bones and an itch under his skin. He needs someone to hold him down until it dissipates and if Luis is offering…

Leon figures that if he’s gonna die down here in this hellhole he might as well live it up now. So, he doesn’t push the man away when he nudges his way into his space, gently butting his head against his, stupid little grin even brighter.

¿Qué dices, yanqui? ¿Quieres pelear?

#my fan fic #fic: .scar.crossed.lovers.#ch: drink down that gin and kerosene #luis serra #luis serra navarro #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4r #serennedy

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sunwarmed-ash · 10 months

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I'd really appreciate it if someone drenched me in kerosene and lit me on fire

#drink down that gin and kerosene 🎶🎶🎶🎶

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fishwithlegsandaheart · 23 days

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so drink down that gin + kerosene!!

#nobody puts baby in the corner #fall out boy #patrick stump #from under the cork tree #the academy is...#william beckett

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 1 year

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What is their go-to drink order?

First of, let's assume everyone is of legal drinking age, whatever that might be.

It's sixteen. If Ben can be a High King at sixteen, he can bloody well drink. I'm not taking criticism on that one.

Unsurprisingly though, Ben has never had as much as a champagne.

And Jane is stuck drinking kiddie fake-champagnes well into her twenties.

Now Audrey? Oh well. Her favourite is rosè, champagne, Skinny Bitch (vodka & soda) and Pink Gin & Tonic. If you pick an aesthetic, you bloody commit to it.

If she's doing shots with the pirates, she gets vodka, because Audrey post Queen of Mean is that bitch and fears no god. She could also do silver tequila.

Chad can't hold his liquor. He just can't. He has one (1) cider//Frisko and is crying. Audrey is suffering.

Anthony Tremaine gets some fancy brandy or whiskey on rocks. Again, Aesthetic, duh. Once he got this for Ginny Gothel and died a little inside when she declared that it doesn't taste any good and proceeded to pour Cola into it. Guess who learned to never ever do this the hard way.

Harriet Hook. Uuh. She has Problems. We know that, right?

On the Isle, she usually drinks Energy drinks with vodka, because she needs to stay awake, duh. Also rum, 'cos pirates, and red wine, 'cos Aesthetic.

If it's before noon, she gets a Mimosa, so she can feel fancy. Also espresso with vodka. Gin & Tonic.

Basically, you name it, chances are Harriet Hook has drunk it at least once.

She'd just like to forget and not feel, savvy??

Harry prefers rum and dislikes wine. He just has the vibes. Unless it's mulled wine which smells way better.

Uma also orders rum. She, however, really likes Pina Colada, but she won't order it herself, (because tough pirate Captain can't enjoy sugary long drinks, duh).

Don't worry though, Gil gets it for her every time he is getting them drinks.

Uma also doesn't pay for her own drinks, like, ever.

Gil likes ciders the best, even over beer, for which his father and brothers ridicule him. He doesn't care, though. He will also do shots of rum with the rest of the pirates.

CJ doesn't drink.

She has seen her family's hungovers and decided she is not doing thaz, thank you. She also dislikes the idea of losing the already poor control over her mind any more. It might not look like it, but CJ is a bit of a control freak.

Freddie Facilier drinks only when someone buys the drink for her. In which case, she'd choose a Chupito, a sweet shot with rum, lime liquor and cocktail cherry.

Celia Facilier doesn't drink and good for her.

Dizzy Tremaine is not allowed to drink. She doesn't particularly wish to, though.

Ginny Gothel mostly drinks wine, and if there is more fancy option available, she'll get Calvados (fancy apple liquor. It's good.) She is also not opposed to drinking Harriet's Red Bull with vodka though.

Claudine Frollo (once adopted by the Hooks). She also has problems, which, in this case, manifests as getting her drinks as vile as possible.

Campari Orange, as bitter as her soul. She can also pass it for an orange juice if she wanted. She's a hypocrite. (Campari Orange is legit good though). On similar note, Skinny Bitch, without the lime. She will do shots of pure vodka and drink Slammed-Tequila (shot of Tequila & shot of Sprite & ice), which is the most vile substance I have ever tasted. It feels like kerosene.

...Mal can't drink. I'm not taking criticism on that.

Evie and Carlos can do shots of pure vodka. Evie likes champagne more, though. She also has a vendetta against red wine, which was her mother's drink of choice, because it looks like blood, duh. Oh, and Aperol Spritz! (She and Audrey should be allowed to gossip and/or plan murder over a glass of Aperol. Ginny too. They'd vibe.)

Technically, Jay and Jade aren't allowed to drink for their own safety. Not because they'd drink too much, but because they insist on taking their usual Anything-but-the-pavement route no matter what.

One time, after some shots of Tequila, they convinced Audrey to go with them. She almost broke her neck, which might be because she refused to take off her high heels.

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slexenskee · 1 year

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THE SAGA CONTINUES WITH BASSIST MAKO-CHAN!

Nicknames: Mako-chan, Drama Queen, Sailor Bae, Your Number One Best Girl

Favorite song to play? Falling Apart to Half-Time (Dance, Dance)

Favorite No Scrubs song to listen to? I Write Sins not Tragedies

Favorite lyric? Drink down your gin and kerosene

If you had to describe yourself as a No Scrubs song, what would it be? The Girl’s a Straight up Hustler

Favorite Bandmate: I’ve never hated someone so much I loved them quite like Ru-kun

Gear Specs: Squier Affinity Series Jaguar Bass H - Shell Pink, Sweetwater Exclusive

#psekai has blessed me with these girls who are so perfect for this fic #fic may death never stop you #art #mdnsy art

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tiredstressedemotionalmess · 19 days

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hiii

HIII :]

youve given me nowhere to go two weeks in a virginia jail dont panic, no, not yet the ease of your pose, the grace of your silhouette drink down that gin and kerosene

in a needle - the used//for my lover - tracy chapman//miss missing you - fall out boy//fuckmylife666 - against me!//noboy puts baby in the corner - fall out boy

send me a ‘hi’ and I will put my playlist on shuffle, write down the first line of five songs and give it to you as a poem!

#asks #ask game #THIS ONE ASLO ISNT TERRIBLE LETS GO THE KAZ PLAYLIST WINS AGAIN

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puckrph · 2 years

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' FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE ' SENTENCE STARTERS

from fall out boy's 2005 album. feel free to change pronouns, etc. tw for alcohol and drug mentions, as well as some suggestive themes

OUR LAWYER MADE US CHANGE THE NAME OF THIS SONG SO WE WOULDN'T GET SUED

' take my advice. ' ' we're bad news. ' ' i will leave you high and dry. ' ' it's not worth the hearing you'll lose. ' ' it's just past eight, and i'm feeling young and reckless. ' ' we're only liars, but we're the best. ' ' we're only good for the latest trends. ' ' i'm only good cause you can have almost-famous friends. ' ' we've got such good fashion sense. ' ' we're friends when you're on your knees. '

OF ALL THE GIN JOINTS IN ALL THE WORLD

' you only hold me up like this because you don't know who i really am. ' ' sometimes i just want to know what it's like to be you. ' ' we're making out inside crashed cars. ' ' we're sleeping through all our memories. ' ' i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive; now i only waste it dreaming of you. ' ' turn off the lights, and turn off the shyness. ' ' your makeup stains my pillowcase like i'll never be the same. ' ' i've got headaches and bad luck. ' ' i've got headaches and bad luck, but they couldn't touch you. '

DANCE, DANCE

' you say you're no good with words, but i'm worse. ' ' i'm weighed down with words too overdramatic. ' ' it can't get much worse. ' ' no one should ever feel like that. ' ' i don't want to forget how your voice sounds. ' ' these words are all i have, so i write them. ' ' we're falling apart. ' ' these are the lives you'd love to lead. ' ' this is the way they'd love if they knew how misery loved me. ' ' you always fold just before you're found up. ' ' drink up, it's last call. ' ' it's the last resort, but only the first mistake. ' ' why don't you show me the little bit of spine you've been saving for his mattress, love? ' ' i only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me. '

SUGAR, WE'RE GOIN' DOWN

' am i more than you bargained for yet? ' ' i've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear. ' ' i'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song. ' ' we're always sleeping in. ' ' we're sleeping for the wrong team. ' ' sugar, we're going down swinging. ' ' i'll be your number one with a bullet: a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it. ' ' is this more than you bargained for yet? ' ' don't mind me. ' ' i'm wishing to be the friction in your jeans. ' ' it's messed up, how i'm just dying to be him. ' ' take back what you said. '

NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER

' drink down that gin and kerosene and co me spit on bridges with me just to keep us warm. ' ' i keep my jealousy close, cause it's all mine. ' ' if you say this makes you happy, then i'm not the only one lying. ' ' keep quiet. ' ' nothing comes as easy as you. ' ' can i lay in your bed all day? ' ' i'll be your best-kept secret, and your biggest mistake. ' ' the hand behind this pen relives a failure every day. ' ' wear me like a locket around your throat: i'll weigh you down, i'll watch you choke. you look so good in blue. ' ' you look so good in blue. '

I'VE GOT A DARK ALLEY AND A BAD IDEA THAT SAYS YOU SHOULD SHUT YOUR MOUTH (SUMMER SONG)

' joke me something awful, just like kisses on the necks of "best friends." ' ' we're the kids who feel like dead ends. ' ' i took a shot and didn't even come close at trust, and love, and hope. ' ' the poets are just the kids who didn't make it and never had it at all. ' ' the lies just won't stop slipping. ' ' my reputation's on the line. ' ' we can fake it for the airwaves. ' ' i'm half dead from comparing myself to everyone else around me. ' ' please put the doctor on the phone, 'cause i'm not making any sense. ' ' my back has been breaking from this heavy heart. ' ' i'm hopelessly hopeful, and you're just hopeless enough. ' ' we never had it at all. '

7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN (ATAVAN HALEN)

' i'm sleeping my way out of this one with anyone who'll lie down. ' ' i'll be stuck fixated on one star when the world is crashing down. ' ' i'm not the desperate type. ' ' i sit out dances on the wall. ' ' i'm trying to forget everything that isn't you. ' ' i'm not going home alone, cause i don't do too well on my own. ' ' the only thing worse than not knowing is you thinking that i don't know. '

SOPHOMORE SLUMP OR COMEBACK OF THE YEAR

' are we growing up, or just going down? ' ' it's just a matter of time until we're all found out. ' ' i swear, i'd burn this city down to show you the light. ' ' we're well-read and poised. ' ' no matter what they say, don't believe a word. ' ' i'll keep singing this lie if you'll keep believing it. ' ' i'm the kid you used to love, but i grew old. ' ' we're the lifers: here till the bitter end, condemned from the start. ' ' i'm ashamed of the way the songs and the words own the beating of my heart. ' ' i've got a sunset in my veins. ' ' i need to take a pill to make this town feel okay. ' ' the best part of "believe" is the "lie." ' ' i need to keep you like this in my mind. ' ' so give in, or just give up. '

CHAMPAGNE FOR MY REAL FRIENDS, REAL PAIN FOR MY SHAM FRIENDS

' you are a getaway car, a rush of blood to the head. but me, i'm just the covers on top of your bed. ' ' i keep you warm and won't ask you where you've been. ' ' when it's said and done, they're all scrambling. ' ' we're friends just because we move units. ' ' strike us like matches, cause everyone deserves the flames. ' ' we only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame. ' ' everyone is trying. ' ' it's such a shame. ' ' the sounds of this small town make my ears hurt. ' ' oh yeah, you caught me. ' ' you want a war? you've got a war! ' ' who are you fighting for? ' ' the tide's out, the ship's run aground; we drown traitors in shallow water. '

I SLEPT WITH SOMEONE IN FALL OUT BOY AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID SONG WRITTEN ABOUT ME

' i found the cure to growing older. ' ' you're the only place that feels like home. ' ' you'll never know. ' ' some secrets weren't meant to be told. ' ' i'm sorry my conscience called in sick again. ' ' i've got arrogance down to a science. ' ' douse yourself in cheap perfume; it's so fitting of the way you are—you can't cover it up. ' ' i can't cover it up. ' ' find a safe place. ' ' you will be missed. ' ' they call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone. but for what we've become, we just feel more alone. ' ' i always weigh what i've got against what i left. ' ' progress report: i am missing you to death. ' ' i'm feeling borrowed and always blue. '

A LITTLE LESS SIXTEEN CANDLES, A LITTLE MORE "TOUCH ME"

' i confess, i messed up. ' ' i've been dropping "i'm sorry" like you're still around. ' ' you dressed up. ' ' you'll never live this down. ' ' you're the girl all the boys want to dance with. ' ' i'm just the boy who's had too many chances. ' ' why don't you just drop dead? ' ' i don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it. ' ' what are you waiting for? kiss me. ' ' i set my clocks early, cause i know i'm always late. ' ' write me off. give up on me. ' ' darling, what did you expect? ' ' i'm a lost cause, a long shot; don't even take this bet. ' ' you said you'd keep me honest, but i won't call you on it. '

GET BUSY LIVING OR GET BUSY DYING (DO YOUR PART TO SAVE THE SCENE AND STOP GOING TO SHOWS)

' this has been said so many times that i'm not sure if it matters, but we never stood a chance. ' ' if you are the shores, i am the waves begging for big moons. ' ' i know this hurts. it was meant to. ' ' your secret's out, and the best part is it isn't even a good one. ' ' you don't matter. ' ' we're all just screaming into microphones for attention. ' ' i never knew that you would pick it apart. ' ' i'm falling apart to songs about hips and hearts. ' ' i used to obsess over living; now i only obsess over you. ' ' tell me you'd like boys like me better in the dark, lying on top of you. ' ' from day one, i talked about getting out. ' ' why put a new address on the same old loneliness? '

' i combed the crowd and picked you out. ' ' it starts eyes closed, to fingers crossed, to "i swear, i say." ' ' whatever it takes. ' ' i left my conscience pressed between the pages of the bible in the drawer. ' ' what did it ever do for me? ' ' love never wanted me, but i took it anyway. ' ' choose love or sympathy, but never both. ' ' love never wanted me. ' ' i hoped you choked and crashed your car. ' ' tear catcher: that's all that you are and ever were. ' ' love never calls me when i'm down. ' ' loose lips sink ships. '

SNITCHES AND TALKERS GET STITCHES AND WALKERS

' show me a starry-eyed kid, i'll break his jaw. i won't let him get his hopes up. ' ' i'll save him from myself. ' ' don't turn out like me. ' ' haven't you heard? the word on the street is i lost it, called it quits. ' ' this story's getting old. ' ' i keep you locked up in the trunk of my mind. ' ' even when there's nothing worth living for, you're still worth lying for. '

THE MUSIC OR THE MISERY

' i got my stitches stitched. ' ' i got your love letters. ' ' i got love letters, corrected the grammar, and sent them back. ' ' it's true, romance is dead: i shot it in the chest, and then in the head. ' ' if you want to go down in history, then i'm your prince. ' ' i've never seen a heart i couldn't break. ' ' it was never about the songs, it was competition: make the biggest scene. ' ' which came first: the music or the misery? ' ' we're high fashion, and we're last chances. ' ' i am indifferent, yet i am a total wreck. ' ' i'm every cliche, but i simply do it best. ' ' i went to sleep a poet, and i woke up a fraud. ' ' to calm your nerves, i was feeling for my clothes in the dark. '

MY HEART IS THE WORST KIND OF WEAPON (DEMO)

' i spent most of last night dragging this lake for the corpses of all my past mistakes. ' ' i'm salt, and you're the wound. ' ' empty the bottle and let me tear you to pieces. ' ' this is me wishing you into the worst situations. ' ' you wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slit your throat. ' ' your remorse hasn't fallen on deaf ears, rather ones that just don't care. ' ' you should try saying "no" once in a while. ' ' take your taste back. ' ' not as eloquent as i may have imagined but it will get the job done. '

#fall out boy sentence starters #fall out boy rp meme #fob sentence starters #fob rp meme #rp meme #sentence starters #rp sentence starters #askbox meme #askbox prompt #askbox starters

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portfolioutboy · 2 years

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📦 GIN AND KEROSENE 📄 #FOBIAOUTBOY22 CHALLENGE 📍 NRO. 326

#capa #capas para fanfic #capa para fanfic #enhypen #edit #fanfic cover #cover #insp #design simples #capas #capa para spirit #Spirit fanfiction

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bulletsgirl · 1 year

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DRINK DOWN THAT GIN AND KEROSENE AND COME SPIT ON BRIDGES WITH ME JUST TO KEEP US WARM LIGHT A MATCH TO LEAVE ME BE

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fillyboy19 · 6 months

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Gin & Kerosene

They’re in some bar in the middle of the desert.

They’re always in some bar in the middle desert and Roberto can’t be bothered to keep track of which one anymore. Most nights he can at least be bothered to keep track of Meryl and Vash because gods know that those two always seem to find trouble even when there’s none to be found. Tonight is different though. Tonight, when Roberto looks up from his drink, he finds that the duo has left him to his own devices.

It shouldn’t surprise him. When Meryl had told him that they should all probably tuck in for the night, Roberto had yelled at her. Unused to such an outburst from him, Meryl had nearly cried. Vash had wrapped an arm around her shoulder and quietly pleaded for him to just talk to them. He’d ignored all protest and sent the boy on his way, tugging the distraught girl behind him.

Roberto swallows down the last of his drink and orders another two from the bartender before laying his arms on the table and tucking his head down against them. Having drank much more than he usually does, the world around him pitches and sways. It should be nauseating but, instead, he finds it pleasantly distracting. It occupies his mind almost – the slow twirl and twist of darkness – but not quite enough to keep the old memories at bay.

Most days are hard.

The heat of the desert. The constant gunfire. And the chaos that comes from tagging along with the Humanoid Typhoon. He’s getting too old for this and he knows it, but it makes the days go by faster. He can admit, at least to himself, that he likes the adrenaline rush. He likes slowly unraveling the mystery of Vash the Stampede and having an adoring Meryl by his side – leading the charge as she’s wont to do.

Today, though, hadn’t been distracting or fast. Today, for a time, everything had seemed to stand too still. For too long it had stood still and then plunged him into the past, squeezing him and leaving him gasping for air as if he’d been dropped into the icy depths of space.

Roberto opens his eyes and lifts his head to find the world around him blurry. He wants to forget. The past. Today. All of it. He slams back the two new drinks that had been set down, but it does little to squash the image blooming in his mind.

He can still see that young kid, all knobby knees, dirty, blond hair, and watery eyes. He was a slip of a thing really. Couldn’t have been more than ten. And his mother…

Roberto orders another two drinks, scowling at the worried look on the bartender’s face and laying down a large tip for the man’s continued compliance. This time, when Roberto puts his head down, the world around him finally goes dim. It stays blissfully dark until the table beneath him jerks. He groans at having been pulled from his stupor and when he looks up, he finds a familiar face scowling down at him.

“Nicholas.”

It’s barely a greeting; more of a grunt, if Roberto’s being honest with himself. The one word, slurred by too many stiff drinks, lacks any of its intended bite. He sounds like a drunk and he knows it. He simply can’t bring himself to care.

Nicholas sets his cross down and then takes the chair across from the older man. He lights a cigarette, the poor, bent thing dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth as he exhales. “Thought you were dead for a minute there.”

“Not dead.” Roberto takes stock of the many empty glasses strewn about the table. “Just drunk.”

A few of them were Vash’s and Meryl’s, of course. Delicate little things with fragile stems and the remnants of something fruity and soft pooled at the bottoms. Most of them, though, are his – a veritable graveyard of sturdy, upside down shot glasses that had held something that burned like gasoline going down, tasted like piss, and would surely put him into an unfathomable blackness devoid of memories if he could just down a few more.

He reaches for one of the two still full glasses, determined to make the world go away for at least a few more hours, when Nicholas’ hand reaches out. The man moves quick, like lightning, snatching the glass from between Roberto’s clumsy fingers and pulling it to his lips. To his credit, he doesn’t grimace or groan. He doesn’t lament the taste or ask Roberto how he can stand this swill. Instead, he takes the other glass and swallows that one down as well.

“Thought you had plans tonight… Something to do with pretty dancers in the local brothel. Not stealing my liquor.” Roberto scowls before lifting his hand to signal the bartender for two more.

“What can I say? Meryl and Vash were worried about you.” Nicholas waves the man off without a second thought and Roberto is forced to hold up double the cash just to entice the bartender closer.

“Just a couple of kids.” Roberto huffs softly. “Don’t need ‘em worrying about an old man like me.”

When his drinks are set down, he doesn’t even get the first sip past his lips before Nicholas is taking them and downing them himself.

“You drink a lot.” Nicholas swallows hard before taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette, the cherry on the end burning bright in the dim light and painting an almost sickly red glow over his face. A glow that reminds Roberto of–

“You smoke a lot.” Robert cuts the thought off before it can blossom.

“You do that too.” Nicholas relaxes back in the booth, seemingly content to at least have Roberto talking and not slipping into the darkness he’s so desperately longing for.

“Man’s gotta have his vices.” Roberto pulls out his own pack of cigarettes and holds up more cash for the bartender. “Man as old as me has earned the right.”

“The right to pass out in some shitty bar in the middle of nowhere and get mugged for what little money you have left?” Nicholas scoffs, lightly before taking a deep breath and glaring at the bartender. “This is more than vices. You’re… troubled.”

“Oh, am I?” Roberto lights his cigarette with trembling hands and takes a quick drag, watching as the smoke drifts towards Nicholas.

The boy seems to soften then, just slightly as he shifts again in his seat. “Seems like you’ve been troubled since we ran into that kid and his mother this morning.”

Roberto wonders how he’d forgotten. Vash and Meryl had been on the other side of the house, but Nicholas had been right there. Maybe ten paces behind Roberto as they’d watched… He steels himself against the thought, against the memories old and new that the thought dredges up and scowls at his unwanted companion. “What’re you gonna do? Take my confession?”

The words draw a sneer from Nicholas who swoops in to steal the two drinks just as the bartender sets them down. “No, I’m gonna take your whisky.”

Roberto can only watch, with his own matching scowl, as his money and his whisky is taken from him. “Don’t need a damned babysitter.”

Nicholas sets the empty glasses down as he finishes them and, this time, he can’t stifle the grimace as the amber liquid burns in his throat. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Roberto stands up, bumping against the table hard enough to knock several glasses over and starts towards the door. He can feel himself pitching and swaying, but he powers through, determined to get as far away from Nicholas as he can. Maybe even find another quiet bar in which to drown his sorrows.

Outside, the night air is cold, slamming into him like a wall and nearly making him stumble into the middle of the road. He can feel a strong hand closing on his arm, and he yanks angrily out of the grasp to continue on. He turns down a darkened alleyway, his feet going where they will while his thoughts struggle to catch up. His mind feels fuzzier than it had inside, that blackness ebbing closer and closer with each step until he nearly pitches forward.

Nicholas watches the old man stumble, nearly slipping out of his untied shoe a few times before he finally trips on the lace. He’s so drunk that he doesn’t flail, doesn’t even try to get his arms up as he begins crashing down to the earth. Nicholas moves without thinking, dropping his cross and sprinting forward to wrap his arms around Roberto’s thick midsection and keep him from crashing to the pavement.

His weapon hits the ground with a heavy thud, but Nicholas pays it little mind as he eases Roberto down against the side of a nearby building. He watches as the old man’s head falls back against the cold brick and his eyes flutter closed. He wonders if the darkness Roberto had been so desperately seeking has finally found him.

Nicholas picks up his weapon and drags it over to where Roberto is before laying it down between their feet and sitting with his back against the opposite wall. He’s never seen the man like this. So broken and shattered. Vash and Meryl were right to be worried about him. Nicholas lets his own head fall back against cool brick and thinks to himself that he’ll probably have to carry Roberto home.

It’s not like he can’t. He’s strong enough to manage his heavy companion and his cross. Though, he isn’t looking forward to doing so. For now, though, the old man is safe and that’s all that matters so Nichoals lets him sit. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds around them. It’s quiet here, just the dry desert wind rattling between buildings and the sounds of distant traffic.

It’s quiet in most towns… until it isn’t.

It’s quiet until there’s gunfire and mayhem. Until there are people screaming and running and children are crying. Nicholas supposes that must have something to do with Roberto’s attitude today. Something about today had been different from every other town. He closes his eyes and lets his memories of the day wash over him. They had started on the road before dawn and made good progress. The jeep was cooperating for once, and they’d reached the small, out-of-the-way town before the sun had risen to its peak.

It had been eerily deserted, even though their intel had said the town should be bustling. He’d felt it in his bones then that something was going to go wrong and he’d been right. They’d split up, Vash’s idea to cover more ground, so Meryl had gone with Vash and he had tagged along with Roberto. There had been no gunfire. No chaos as they searched. It wasn’t until they stumbled on the woman and her child that things went south–

“Used to have a wife, ya know… Kids too.”

When Nicholas opens his eyes to the sound, he finds Roberto staring not at him, but up at the night sky. He can see a wetness on the man’s ruddy cheeks that has nothing to do with the alcohol he’d consumed, or… maybe it had everything to do with it.

“I didn’t know that.” Nicholas stretches out his stiff legs, propping them up on Punisher, while he sizes up Roberto’s current condition.

If he really thinks about it, really thinks about it, they all know surprisingly little about each other. They travel together and make small talk while in their cramped little car, but had he ever really told them much about his past? They knew that he wasn’t entirely quite human, but he’d never talked about the Eye of Michael or his time there. He’d told them even less about Livio and orphanage. And really, what did he actually know about Vash, Meryl, or even Roberto?

“What happened?” Nicholas watches the older man while he waits, studying the strong line of Roberto’s jaw and his, now closed, eyes.

His lashes are wet with unshed tears that seem to shimmer in the streetlamp’s light and for a long time, the man does nothing but breathe slowly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm so steady that Nicholas is almost certain that he’s fallen asleep again.

“Wasn’ ‘a good father.” Roberto sniffles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Nicholas can’t help but think of his own. The memory of that first day at the orphanage crashes over him like a wave. He can see the dry, dusty-looking building in front of him and the tall, dark-haired man that was supposed to care for him striding away. He tells himself that it’s only his imagination, that he was too young to really remember being held in that woman’s arm while he wailed for his daddy to come back. So confused as to why daddy was leaving him. He’s not really sure if he believes it one way or the other anymore.

“That ain’t nothing big. Lots of people ain’t good fathers.”

Robert grunts softly. “Lots of people don’t get their families killed.”

The words settle in Nicholas’ stomach like a lead weight. He’d expected the usual: alcoholism, neglect, maybe a bit of temper. But he hadn’t expected that kind of a revelation and he’s not sure what to say to bridge the gap. Luckily for him, though, Roberto fills the silence; his soft, slurred words dragging in Nicholas’ ears and making him lean forward just to hear.

He talks about how he’d been a journalist all his life. How he’d married young and started a family shortly after turning nineteen. Roberto pulls a metal cigarette case from his pocket, turning it over in his hands as he tells Nicholas about how his wife had bought it for him when he’d gotten his first promotion. He talks about how he’d been more married to the job than he was his wife, coming home for short visits after long stints away.

“Feels like it happened so fast. One day they were runnin’ up to me at the door and hugging me an’ having me pick ‘em up and telling me all about their day. And then the next… they weren’t waitin’ for me at the door anymore. Weren’t callin’ for their papa…”

Roberto speaks about how he’d known his wife was cheating on him. How he wouldn’t begrudge her that because wasn’t he cheating on her as well? Maybe the job wasn’t a person, but it stole his time just as well as any mistress.

Nicholas can feel an odd sort of sadness growing in his chest at the thought of Roberto’s kids growing up without their father – worrying about him while he’s gone and happy to see him return home. It makes him wonder what kind of father his own would have been, had he not been abandoned. It makes him wonder what kind of father he’d be if he ever decided to settle down and have children of his own.

“I used to kiss them on their foreheads each night before bed.” Roberto thumbs over the small, metal case in his hands as if it’s showing him a fond memory. His face seems to fall then, and he swallows hard before turning his gaze back towards the sky. “One day I came home and there wasn’t anything. Just… silence. They’d stopped running to me long ago, but this quiet was different. This quiet I knew from my time as a war correspondent. I know when I’m walking amongst the dead…”

Nicholas feels the breath in his chest growing tight as the story unfolds before him. Roberto talks about how he’d barreled through the house, shouting the names of his wife and children. How he’d found his eldest daughter in a tub full of blood and his little boy stabbed in his bed. His voice breaks as he talks about finding his wife and his youngest daughter, barely seven, in the backyard. How his wife’s hand hadn’t even trembled as she held the gun to their little girl’s head.

“I begged her.” Roberto’s voice cracks into a sob and he slams his head back against the brick as if the pain will stop the tears from flowing. “I begged her not to.”

Nicholas listens, breath held in his chest, to the story of how they’d suffered while Roberto was gone. How the men of the town had treated them when the groceries were too slim or the pipe in the basement needed fixing. He listens as those words dissolve into sobs and he doesn’t need to hear how it ends because he knows.

He can see the little boy from the village this morning. How his mother had stood so resolute with the gun to his head. Certain that this was the only way to save her child from a lifetime of suffering. He can watch the parallels being drawn between Roberto’s past and his present, and he can see the man’s pain as if it were his own.

“What the hell…” Roberto chuckles dryly, wiping his nose on his sleeve and then glancing up at Nicholas. “… maybe I did need a confession after all.”

“Want me to absolve you of your sins?” Nicholas says it only half joking, unsure of what he should say, of what Roberto needs to hear.

“You’re the Punisher. Not a priest.” Roberto’s glassy eyes grow dark as they drop down to the weapon between their feet. “I want you to kill me.”

The sentiment should make him sad. Should make any priest sad. It would make Vash and Meryl sad. To hear the story. To hear the grief and pain and regret as Roberto voiced his morbid request. To watch him caress an empty cigarette case as if he’s holding one of his children one last time. It doesn’t make Nicholas sad.

It makes him angry.

That feeling swirls and grows like a fire being stoked in his belly and his hands curl into fists at his sides. His father had taken the easy route and checked out on him. Everyone wants to take the easy route. The one that makes them feel better instead of making anything better. It infuriates him because Roberto shouldn’t just get to check out on them like that. Vash and Meryl don’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve that.

“You want to be punished? Atone.” Nicholas glares at Roberto before standing and snatching the cigarette case out of the man’s hands. He shoves it back into the breast pocket of the man’s jacket. “Meryl’s your intern. She needs you. Vash needs you.”

I need you.

Understanding seems to dawn on Roberto at his harsh words and the man drops his gaze to his lap. Nicholas wonders if the man can feel the cigarette case burning against his chest, if it will forever remind him of this night. He hopes so.

“Keep them safe or die trying. That’s your punishment.” Nicholas shoulders his cross and holds a hand out to Roberto. “Now come on, I’m not carrying your ass back to the hotel.”

~End~

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#fanfic #trigun #trigun stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #roberto de niro #wolfwoodzine

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