A/N: Prompt set 01, word 01. There is absolutely no significance to the order of fics, just that that's the order of the prompts. See my profile for the list order if you care.
A kinda, no pun intended, slow start and more angsty at the end than I expected but ah well. What's done is done.
I own nothing.
"Slow poke! Slo-ow!" The bigger boy tripped Linus, sending him sprawling on the weed-choked concrete. "You think you're so special. One of Solo's little pack, but you know he's only alive cause he's so goddam fast. But not you."
His shoes were ragged in spots, the top of the left one had an actual hole in it. They were still useful in kicking Linus, drawing an agonized gasp of pain from the smaller boy as he curled in around his stomach.
"Runs away like a coward instead o' fighting, but not you, bitch." His foot wasn't as well aimed this time, just clipping Linus' cheek and drawing blood. "You're slow."
"If he's slow, then what're you?" a tiny brunette with eyes too big for his face put in snidely, crossing his arms and leaning back against the dirt smeared wall behind him. "The slowest of all of Solo's brats and you just barely got him at all."
The bruiser from the drug runners down the block switched targets like someone had promised him a hundred dollars to do it. "You think you got a better chance 'gainst me, brat?"
"Naw." The mouthy kid grinned and spread his arms wide. "But that ain't the point."
The bruiser frowned and the brunette pointed past him. Instinctively the bigger boy turned, just in time to see Linus, arms wrapped around his middle, making good on his escape down a sidestreet. A small, sharp shoulder slammed into his gut before the bruiser could get turned back around, driving the air from his lungs. He caught the barest hint of gleaming purple eyes before the other kid, the distraction, was gone as well, up and over a wall he shouldn't even have been able to climb.
Roundly pissed, the gangbanger worked to get his air back, then used it all up again swearing until the sky turned blue.
"You shoulda left him there, brat boy," Solo said, using the scummy puddle to clean the blood off his hands. Head cuts always bled too much.
Duo shrugged, shifting his weight as he looked up at the stars he could barely see despite the lack of light. "I know."
Solo sighed, straightening with a creak of knee joints. "No ya don't. You're soft. Still."
It was an old insult, an old argument. Or rather, it was as old as an argument could be on the streets. Duo was already sick of it, especially since he knew Solo was as soft as any of the rest of them. If he could've scared off the bully without risking his life then he would have. Duo wasn't stupid enough to die for some little kid either, no matter what Solo said.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I know."
Solo blinked in surprise then surged forward, making his dominance clear. Proving his point. "He'll be dead in a couple of weeks anyway. Then what?"
Duo didn't step backwards where once he might have. But not with Solo. Solo didn't want to hurt him. "I know," he agreed. "But I won't be an' he woulda had two more weeks. That's gotta mean something."
"Yeah." Solo shoved his hands through his hair to dry them. "We gotta feed him for two more weeks."
"I'll do it," Duo said instantly, earning himself a scathing glare and a smack across the back of his head.
"You won't. Who's the leader o' this gang, huh brat boy? I feed my people. I do. Not brats who're too soft to live but too lucky to die."
Duo rubbed at the bruise he was going to have come morning and said the only thing one could say to one of Solo's Prideful Moments. "Yessolo."
The gang leader snorted. "Well why the fuck are we standing around in the dark waiting to get jumped like idiots? Get inside."
"Yessolo." Duo turned and behind him, he heard Solo begin to cough.