Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, unfortunately, or the movie. Anywho, this is my first chapter ever made and published on fanfiction. I'm super excited and nervous, so I hope you all enjoy and please REVIEW, COMMENT, and tell me what you think!

"My daddy was a bankrobber

But he never hurt nobody

He just loved to live that way

And he loved to steal your money

Some is rich and some is poor

And that's the way the world is

And I don't believe in lying back

And saying how bad your life is,"

"Oi, Sing-Along, I don't believe the people in Ireland can hear your stereo." Pete commented, holding the pulled plug in his hands.

Johnny didn't seem to notice that the stereo had been unplugged, nor had he bothered to acknowledge Pete's presence. He stood before the mirror in the hall, fumbling with the tie that hung loosely around his neck, trying and failing to tie the silky material. He hummed, picking up where the song had been left when Pete had pulled the wire.

Pete watched for a few moments, bemused, twirling the wire in and out of his fingers. It still struck Pete odd that Johnny was taking note of what he wore now. That institute was definitely worth the expenses and beyond; Johnny wasn't only clean on the inside, but on the outside as well. He had even attempted cleaning the apartment a little. It was no penthouse, but it wasn't a pigsty any longer either. Noticing that Johnny's jaw was beginning to lock and his fingers were getting less friendly with the tie, Pete smiled, shaking his head,

"Here Johnny-O, let me help you there,"

Johnny tore his eyes slowly from the mirror and set them on Pete's instead,

"Oh, what a good ol' chap you are, Pedro. Kind boy, kind boy."

Pete snorted at Johnny's appraisal and got between Johnny and the wall, taking the tie into his hands as he began to tie it properly for his friend. Johnny made no effort to move and give space between him and Pete. It would be too much effort.

"Now Pete, we are expected at the pub in approximately-"

Johnny raised his wrist and took a quick glance at the silver watch that hung delicately. It was almost feminine, really.

"Four minutes, now- God Dammit, Pete, why the hell are you tying this so tight? Loosen it the fuck up."

Johnny hissed, irritated.

Pete quickly parted it a little, but then shot a glance up at Johnny's face, flabbergasted.

"Four minutes, did you say?"

"Yes, are you going senile as well, Pedro?"

"Bloody hell, Johnny, we can't get there in four minutes!"

"Well, I suppose you're wrong there."

"Oh really, and how is that?"

"Because it's probably three minutes by now. You never could stop talking."

Johnny snickered as Pete shoved him back, having finished tying his tie. He watched in amusement as Pete ran across the living room, stumbling over magazines and torn up throw-pillows, his dress shoes clicking on the wooden floor that wasn't littered with trash and forgotten objects. Pete snatched up the keys, simultaneously stuffing his wallet into his jacket's pocket.

"Johnny, hurry up, get down into the car!" Pete shouted.

Once in the car, a few blocks away from the pub, Pete was resting his head against the window, staring out of it, jogging his leg restlessly, looking at his watch every few seconds or so. Johnny wasn't talking much, but that wasn't anything new. Johnny wasn't always a talker. Suddenly, Pete was thrown forward against his seatbelt, gasping as his neck cracked painfully. Cars behind them slammed on their horns, some holding them down relentlessly, others repeatedly punching them like a boxer in a match.

"Why the hell did you slam on your brakes in the middle of the road? For Christ's sake, Johnny, drive, we're in an intersection!" Pete shouted, rubbing the crick in his neck.

"We've got to turn around and go back." Johnny responded, still not driving.

"What? Why?" Pete asked, shocked.

"I left my cigarettes behind." Johnny said calmly.

Pete glanced out his window as a livid looking man approached, smacking at the glass and screaming at Johnny to roll down the window.

Pete felt a wave of dread overcome his body and he slowly looked over at Johnny, whose eyes had already narrowed.

"Johnny, ignore him, please, just start driving home, alright?" Pete asked, hating the whimper sound in his voice.

"No. He wants to fuck with me? I'll show him how to fuck." Johnny snarled.

Johnny rolled down the window and stared the man dead in the eyes, the demented look that always seemed to haunt his eyes as a junkie returned, his demeanor altogether darkening.

"Hey pal, this is a fucking intersection, are you out of your fucking mind? I've got a job to go to and a family to feed, you and your gay buddy there need to turn the fucking car on and start to-"

The man's shout halted to an abrupt stop as a sharp metal object was suddenly pointed at his face. A crazed grin stretched across Johnny's face, practically reaching his eyes, like the Cheshire cat.

"You wanna continue….'pal'?" Johnny whispered, a laugh hinting at the end of his sentence.

When the man didn't reply, Johnny's eyes scrunched up and he said,

"I didn't think so.. now you turn around and get your fat ass back into that cheap jalopy of yours and drive to your fucking so called job to feed your whore of a wife and bitchy children. Got that, pal?"

Johnny jabbed the metal pencil closer to the man's face. The guy let out a shriek and jerked back. He gave Johnny a dirty but fearful look and obeyed, turning around and going back to his car.

Johnny smirked and tucked the metal back behind his ear and turned the keys into the ignition,

"It's all in the eyes, Pete."

He turned the car around sharply, making an illegal U-Turn and drove back to the apartment.

Pete hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath until he started to feel dizzy. He let out a gush of air in a huge whoosh, and turned to Johnny stiffly,

"Man, you really attacked that guy. You need to chill out a little, Johnny-O. What was the big deal?" Pete asked after a moment's hesitation.

Johnny didn't look at him as he parked the car,

"I would've just scared him a little rather than turn violent, but he called you gay. I don't let nobody mess with you, Pedro. Now shut the fuck up and sit in the car like a good little boy while I go get my smokes, got me?" Johnny replied, finally turning to look at him.

Pete shrugged, shaking his head,

"Whatever you say, Sing-Along." Pete answered.

Johnny grinned and gave Pete's cheek a small, playful smack, then ducked out of the car and jogged up the steps of the apartment complex.

Pete sighed, resting back against the seat. Johnny was too protective of him. Sure, they were best mates and all, but Johnny's protection went beyond that. He had killed the man at the club for knocking Pete to the ground for God's sakes. Johnny always messed with him, touching his face, wrestling him, protecting him; he acted as though they were lovers or something. But that was just how Johnny was. At least, Pete thought so. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as Johnny climbed back into the car, tucking his cigarettes into his suit jacket's pocket.

"Alright there, Pedro?" Johnny asked, sounding mildly concerned.

"Never better, Johnny. Drive, now that we're ten minutes late." Pete said, smiling a little.

Johnny grinned and obliged.

They arrived at Speeler, where the notorious group known as The Wild Bunch hung out. One-Two had called Johnny around one in the morning, telling him to meet him and the group there at one-thirty sharp. One-Two, knowing Johnny had a tendency to be fashionably late, had actually planned on meeting at one-forty-five, and had therefore told Johnny an earlier time so he'd end up being on time.

One-Two glanced over at Handsome Bob, who had already made himself quite comfortable. He was leaning back in his chair, his legs propped up on the table, a smug look covering his face as he blew a small kiss towards One-Two. One-Two gave him a disgusted look in return and looked towards the door, hearing it slam open. Mumbles read his watch: One-fifty-seven. Even with an earlier time, Johnny still managed to be late.

"Why, the group is all here, if it isn't ol' One-Two, Mumbles, Handsome Bob..and, Tank, what are you doing here?" Johnny announced lively, giving a questioning look in Tank's direction.

The black man laughed deeply at Johnny's liveliness and responded,

"Oh, you know, I just came by for the party."

Johnny clapped, making his way to the table,

"Good for you, man, good for you. I congratulate you sincerely from the deepest chambers of my beating heart. I encourage rebellious men like you!"

Pete pulled out a chair for Johnny, and Johnny seated himself gracefully. Pete pushed the chair in and sat down in the empty seat beside him.

"Comfy, are we?" Handsome Bob asked.

"Indeed." Johnny answered, smoothing down his jacket.

One-Two rested his elbows on the table and leaned towards Johnny and Pete. Johnny didn't make any moves to get closer, but Pete leaned in, knowing One-Two was ready for business. To his surprise, One-Two didn't start right away.

"I hear you are clean now, Johnny boy. Do my ears deceive me, or are these rumors true?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Johnny's lips,

"Your ears are wise indeed, One-Two. But yes, it is the truth. I am as clean as fresh laundry set outside on a spring morning."

"Fresh laundry always finds ways of being dirtied, does it not?" One-Two asked quietly.

Johnny's smile faltered a little, and Pete tensed, but Johnny replied,

"Not if you are extra careful and wear bibs on your shirt and napkins on your pants if you are eating, and you do not go play in the mud when mother tells you not to."

One-Two smiled and seemed assured, then glanced at Tank.

Tank sat up straighter in his chair, groaning as his tired bones cracked and whined. He looked steadily at Johnny and said,

"You know why they call me Tank, Johnny?"

"Nothing goes pasts your ears." Johnny answered calmly.

"Right," Tank answered, settling back into his chair, "You want to know something, kid?" he asked.

"Sure, I like learning. Knowledge is good for the brain. It calms the mind." Johnny replied, but he finally leaned forward, showing interest.

Tank was silent for a moment, then said,

"I've been hearing your name on the streets a lot. "

Johnny raised a brow in curiosity. Who could be searching for him now? His step-father was gone now, and Archy had given him the painting, no one knew he had it again, nor was anyone looking too hard, or so he heard the last time he checked. According to the rest of the world's population, Johnny Quid was just a dead rock star.

"Not from several people, Johnny. One person has been asking around about you. Trying to find you. Not where your money is, not who you are, but where you are. No one has come to me to ask yet, but they will. They always do."

It was silent around the table for a minute, and then Johnny cleared his throat and asked,

"And who is this… investigator?"

Tank looked him in the eyes and said,

"A woman."

Johnny and Pete looked at him in surprise, obviously confused. One-Two frowned at their reactions. He had thought for sure that Johnny had done something and already knew what was up, but their reactions told him that wasn't true. Someone was looking for Johnny, who obviously did not know the reason why.

Like always, Bob broke the stunned silence, making all heads turn towards him,

"Well, looks like you aren't gay after all, Johnny. Had me worried there for a while." He teased.

Pete stared at Bob, his look of shock that read, "Are you kidding me," so clear, that the rest of the table erupted into boisterous laughter.

Johnny pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, having finally finished laughing. He stuck it in his mouth and handed the lighter to Pete, who clicked it open and lit the end for him.

Noticing One-Two's look, Johnny took a drag before saying,

"I came clean alright, but I can't stop these little bastards."

One-Two shrugged and said,

"You know, those can kill you as well, causes cancer. As in, it can end your life."

"That that starts sweet ends bitter. And that which starts bitter ends sweet." Johnny replied softly, taking the cigarette between his fingers and looking down upon it.

"What do you mean by that, Johnny?"

"Think about it this way. This cigarette starts off sweet, but ends bitter when I die. My life started off bitter, but it will end sweet when I die, happy in my own miserable hole of being addicted to these killer sticks. I'm basically controlling my own fate. Isn't it funny? This thin, wrapped up piece of paper can determine whether I live or die, whether I'm sick or healthy. In a way, this cigarette is God."

One-Two watched Johnny's solemn yet somehow serene expression silently, until Johnny jumped up unexpectedly, grinning brightly once more.

"Well gentlemen, it was a pleasure to see youse again. We shall have to speak again soon. I will take what you said into consideration, Tank. In the meantime, I have places to go, such as my bed, and people to see, such as my pillow and beer. Thank you, men, for the invitation. I'll give you a call later, One-Two." Johnny said, then turned to Pete,

"Come along, Pedro, we must be going along now. So long, fellows."

Pete stood up, clapped One-Two on the back, and followed Johnny across the room.

As Johnny made his way to the door, he began to sing,

"One, Two, buckle my shoe.

Three, Four, knock at the door.

Five, six, pick up sticks.

Seven, eight, lay them straight.

Nine, ten, a big fat hen.."

Author's Note: Ohhh, you gotta love Johnny and his humor 3 I also love how it took me hours to write this, and I was so proud of how long and neat it seemed on Word, and putting it on here sorta took away its glamour -_-...But don't forget to drop a comment and a review! (: