[attr="class","damien-words"]



Everything had gone to shit in the last month. Most, if not all, of their staff were either gone doing ROCKET bullcrap, injured, or just plain fuckin' dead. And where did that leave Damien? Up shit creek without a damn paddle.[break][break]

So yeah, some of the recycling didn't get done. Boo-fucking-hoo. [break][break]

"Boss, can't we just throw this shit out? It's just a bunch'a cardboard. Who gives a fuck?" Damien groaned, not giving two shits about saving the planet with recycling or similar green bullshit. There was a reason all the boxes had stacked up in the bar owner's absence.[break][break]

He looked over at the other man for confirmation, barely hiding a scowl behind (what he thought was) a neutral expression, and watched as Zev headed toward the empty liquor bottles. Why would they keep the damn things? [break][break]

Man, Zev Harcourt was so fucking uptight. Damien wondered how the guy was able to move around the back room so well with such a huge stick up his ass.

[attr="class","damien-notes"]

[attr="class","damien-words"]



… How in the fuck did it get to his point? [break][break]

Walking toward some sleazy downtown bar, Damien reviewed all the intel nikkari hect had provided over and over in his head, on repeat. Johto contact, wants out. Rocket doesn’t do that shit so we gotta make him stay. [break][break]

He bit at his lip, still thinking, in the moments between replying to Nikkari and arriving at their destination.[break][break]

Man, I don’t even want to stay, how am I supposed to convince someone else? [break][break]

“Want us. Right. Got it. Taoyang’s the dude’s name, yeah?” Damien looked to the other man with a waveringly serious expression, bluffing as best he could; the question was just a way to receive hollow validation, anyway. Stalling a few seconds longer before he was thrust out of the nest. [break][break]

“No worries. He’ll be begging to stay by the time I’m done with him.” Even Damien didn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. [break][break]

This whole situation was so damn surreal, though. He even had a fucking legit earpiece. This wasn’t some Black City gang shit, this was the real fucking deal. And DAMIEN RUSSO was decidedly not ready to be thrown into the deep end.[break][break]

But too fucking bad. He couldn’t let nikkari hect see that. It could mean him relaying some bullshit bad review to Cillian Quinn, which could translate to trouble for his family back home.[break][break]

“Alright. I’m going in. Radio if you need something.”[break][break]

Fuck it. He steeled himself before crossing through the threshold of the bar, Chicken Nugget toddling along at his feet. The interior was what you might expect of a dive like this so late at night: certainly not crowded, but there were enough regulars here to fill about half of the tables; one bartender, some rugged bastard with a sleeve of shitty tattoos down his left arm; crappy dad rock playing in the background.[break][break]

There was one guy at the very back corner that kinda stood out from the rest. Based on what Nikkari had said, Damien figured he was their contact in question.[break][break]

“Taoyang?” Damien asked, tone even and unthreatening, while sidling into the opposite side of the booth across from him.

[attr="class","damien-notes"]

[attr="class","damien-words"]




Caught red-handed in his lie, Damien’s gaze wavered once again. [break][break]

The chair above the drain was starting to look more and more menacing as Cillian applied added pressure. What the fuck did ‘not abide’ mean? Like, a slap on the wrist? Murder? Torture? Fuck…[break][break]

“He...” Damien hesitated, unsure if he should be truthful despite the underboss’ threat. In the end, he conceded. And every word felt like shit as they left his lips.[break][break]

“...He’s trying to stay clean now that he’s out of jail.”[break][break]

Was that necessarily true? No. But in Damien’s mind, Frank Caffey had promised not to do anymore shit that could land him back in the clink. Working for Cillian Quinn definitely qualified.

[attr="class","damien-notes"]

[attr="class","damien-words"]



Despite the bullshit reason for being here, Damien thought it was actually kind of nice sitting alone at the docks this time of night. There was no one around to annoy the crap out of him. The salty ocean air felt pleasant brushing against his mottled skin. And the rhythmic sound of the water even helped to calm some of his anxiety surrounding this shitty ROCKET meeting. [break][break]

Russo. His name called out from the darkness.[break][break]

Damien flinched, hard, nearly falling into the black water in front of him. Like a fucking dumbass greenhorn idiot. The jerking movement startled the ZORUA from his lap; good, cause he immediately scrambled to his feet to face the voice behind him.[break][break]

There was a man there, his hair nearly iridescent in the moonlight that broke from the cloudy sky overhead. Tall, with a face that gave nothing away. Steeped in a mysterious air, too. It could only be the contact he’d been waiting for.[break][break]

“Hect,” Damien tried his best to recuperate his earlier embarrassment and sound like he thought a badass spy might. Cold, serious, aloof.[break][break]

It was a façade quickly ruined when his ZORUA locked eyes with two ruby gemstones in the shadows. He bolted, scurrying after the SABLEYE while yapping incessantly.[break][break]

“Nuggs! Ya lil’ shit, get the fuck back here!” Luckily the little fucker obeyed, but just barely. Chicken Nugget begrudgingly halted and turned around, trotting back to his owner’s side. He kept giving the stink eye to Nikkari’s creepy gremlin thing, though.[break][break]

Damien cleared his throat, trying to ease the awkwardness. The back of his neck was blushed red, too, though this was hard to see in the almost-darkness.[break][break]

“...Sorry about that. Let’s get down to business.”

[attr="class","damien-notes"]

[attr="class","damien-words"]



This was the fucking worst.[break][break]

DAMIEN RUSSO wasn't ambitious. He didn't aspire to be anything more than what he was – a guy from a shit neighborhood just trying to get by. He'd been too busy playing parent to his siblings to ever excel at anything academic, let only extracurricular. Shit, he was just lucky to get a damn high school diploma. [break][break]

He knew his place in the world.[break][break]

And yet dumbfucks like Cillian Quinn thought he could be a SPY? [break][break]

"Be fucking for real right now..." He huffed into the cool night air. [break][break]

ROCKET had arranged his first meeting with another operative connected to the espionage division. It was kind of a last minute thing, so the docks on the outskirts of Slateport City seemed as good a spot as any to meet up.[break][break]

Damien got there first. Currently, he was sitting on the edge of one of the wooden piers, his feet dangling over the black water below. One of his ZORUA was there, too, curled in his lap and keeping him company while they waited.

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[attr="class","damien-words"]



Cillian Quinn's gaze bore holes into Damien's skull. He could practically feel the intensity radiating off the underboss. It was suffocating – and fucking creepy.[break][break]

Despite that, the grunt's seafoam eyes wandered back up to meet Cillian's own, thinking that his deceptions would be more convincing if they made eye contact.[break][break]

"Uuuh.. not really.." He lied. Was it believable to someone like Cil? Probably not.[break][break]

"I think most of them are still in jail..." That one was kind of true.[break][break]

As for whether or not any of those rich bastards would be of any use...[break][break]

"I'm not sure, boss. They mostly handled money shit. Just wanted to line their pockets." Which, to be fair, ROCKET also wanted to do.

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“Oh. Uh…” Damien trailed off, swallowing hard. His pride was a tough pill to choke down. “Sure. Right. Yes, sir.”[break][break]

Internally, there were all sorts of expletives bouncing off the walls of his skull. Spy shit sounded a hell of a whole lot harder than just simple grunt work or even regular thieving. Didn’t they usually want smarter bastards for this sort of job?? Arceus, he was going to fucking get himself killed at this rate.[break][break]

A bead of sweat trickled from his brow down to his jawline as Damien continued to face Cillian Quinn. He wondered if that was it – a quick reassignment conversation and then he could get the hell out of here.[break][break]

But nope. Underboss Quinn wanted to delve into his past. [break][break]

Shit.[break][break]

All DAMIEN RUSSO could think about was Frank Caffey. [break][break]

I can’t let him know about Frank.[break][break]

“It was just a side gig, mostly. A go-between for shady business deals. People knew they could trust me to keep my mouth shut.” He explained, his eyes trailing toward the drain in the floor as he tried to be as vague as possible. “Sometimes I would snag shi– stuff they wanted to blackmail a client or something.”[break][break]

Damien started to pick at his fingers. It seemed like an unconscious gesture, but one that he did often judging by the state of his cuticles.[break][break]

“I worked with some higher-ups in this financial firm. They got arrested so I had to find something new to make ends meet.”

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[attr="class","damien-words"]



Cillian Quinn’s office was like one of those fake haunted houses you went to on Halloween to get drunk and mess around. Except all the gimmicks were real, like the freezing temperature and the scary as shit atmosphere. It had the hair on the back of Damien’s arms standing on end, his eyes darting around at the shadowed corners.[break][break]

When Cillian spoke, however, the grunt’s attention snapped back onto him.[break][break]

Good, Damien had almost confessed aloud when hearing of his superior officer, but stopped himself. That guy had been the biggest asshole. He was glad he was gone, whether that meant dead or defected. It impacted him the same either way.[break][break]

“Uh.. a spy?” Damien’s hesitance was obvious.[break][break]

“I mean, I’m decent at nabbin’ things. My old job had me doin’ that pretty regular.” It wasn’t a far leap from thief to spy, so it was understandable that the underboss had brought it up. Not that Damien wanted anything to do with espionage bullshit.

[attr="class","damien-notes"]

[attr="class","damien-words"]




"...just Rocket bullshit." Damien responded, sighing heavily. "They need me for something tonight."[break][break]

He remained prone on the bed while Frank got up to begin his day, thinking over how to structure the rest of the time he had before starting work. There really weren't that many hours left.[break][break]

"I should probably get going." He could shower, brush his teeth, apply ointment to the harder bites, all that crap at home. For now, Damien got up and gathered his discarded clothing from the night before, dressing himself even though the fabric clung to him uncomfortably. Definitely needed to run a load of laundry when he got home too.[break][break]

Before he left Damien scribbled something using the provided hotel pen and pad of paper. Ripping it out, he then approached Frank and offered it to his friend.[break][break]

"Here. If you ever need a place to crash in Slateport." [break][break]

[break]

His address. Frank probably wasn't familiar with Slateport's various neighborhoods yet, but this one was notorious for being one of the most dangerous parts of the city. But, consequently, also the cheapest.

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[attr="class","damien-words"]




Frank Caffey didn't promise with words, but DAMIEN RUSSO wasn't smart enough to figure that out. [break][break]

Well, maybe it wasn't smarts that he lacked. He was just so goddamn enamored that he'd always taken the best parts of Frank at face value. The asshole was just so good at drawing on the pieces of Damien that were the most vulnerable.[break][break]

Like his heart. And his dick.[break][break]

Fucking Frank. He always knew how to get what he wanted in the end.[break][break]

So he promised with his body and Damien took that commitment as gospel. Swayed with him like parishioners singing a Sunday hymn, touched him with a reverent hand, worshiped him like the God he'd made himself to be in Damien's mind. [break][break]

Until they tumbled back together again, sweaty and satisfied. [break][break]

Until he whispered I love you — marking the end to their communion. [break][break]

Those three words made Damien's chest tighten. Caused him to squeeze his arms around Frank a little harder. But he didn't say them back.[break][break]

"Yeah, yeah." Damien breathed out instead, exhausted all over again. How many times had they fucked now? He'd lost count by this point. "Now get off me, ya big softie."[break][break]

His words weren't backed up by any physical gesture, though. He just laid there, his body barely peeking out beneath Frank's bulk. That was, until, Damien's phone vibrated loudly on the nightstand. [break][break]

Stretching as far as his arm would allow, he was just able to coax the device into his palm with the tips of his fingers. As soon as he read the text on the screen, however, he wished he'd just ignored it and remained in Frank's arms.[break][break]

"Shit."

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[attr="class","damien-words"]





DAMIEN RUSSO hated a lot of things. [break][break]

Anger had become a secondhand emotion ever since he was old enough to walk. It was an underlying part of him – something that was never truly detached from his day-to-day.[break][break]

What he didn’t want to admit, however, was how he used that anger to mask things about himself that he detested. Like how vulnerable he felt around Frank, how the bastard could make him feel upside down and messed up on the inside. How he made his chest feel all full and weird when he was around, but empty when he wasn’t. [break][break]

Dependent. It made him feel dependent. And he HATED it. [break][break]

But there was no way to detangle someone like Frank Caffey from his life. And deep down, Damien didn’t want to.[break][break]

He allowed the touch, the gentle movement of his head. Stared up at Frank with those shocking seafoam eyes of his. And asked with a commensurate seriousness:[break][break]

“Promise?”[break][break]

He hoped his tone and expression conveyed the gravity of their situation. Broken promises were one of the many other things he hated.[break][break]

Frank’s kiss sealed the deal. Damien returned it fervently, slipping his tongue between the other man’s lips. A hand found its way to the back of Frank’s neck, pulling him in closer.

[attr="class","damien-notes"]