The quiet night and the silent stars and a man who stands watching the city, looking at what is left of his universe. He couldn't call it his, though, because the universe belonged to Slick. Droog didn't mind much.
Much.
He takes a drag off his cigarette as a knife lands on the ground beside him.
"Dammit," he hears, and Spades Slick trudges up next to him.
"Playing darts, are we," Diamonds Droog says, not interested enough to change his tone.
"Whaddya' doin', Diamonds," Slick snarls. "We gotta' move."
"Just taking a last look at the town," Droog replies, blowing out smoke.
"Good for nothin' sack a' shit," Slick grumbles and walks away, and Droog can't tell if he is talking about him or the city. Not that it matters. Whatever comes out of Slick's mouth is garbage.
Droog turns around to see the car. Clubs Deuce is on top and Hearts Boxcars sits in the driver's seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.
The Felt have taken over New York City, so Slick is setting out to find new turf, wherever that might be. More or less, the Midnight Crew were kicked out of the city by The Felt. Their hideout invaded, their territories taken over, their disposables double-agents. But nobody was worried. There's always more space to be taken.
Getting in the backseat Droog pulls out his newspaper, ignoring Slick yelling to Deuce to get in the damn car. Deuce slides in next to Droog through the window, and Slick gets in the front seat. "Drive, dammit," he growls to Boxcars, and they head off.
Soon enough Deuce falls asleep, much to the relief of Slick, who begins to sharpen one of his knives.
"God dammit, Slick, not in the fuckin' car," Boxcars says through gritted teeth. "I just got the damn thing cleaned."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to get it cleaned again, won't ya'?" Slick barks back, and Boxcars steps on the brakes, causing the entire party to jerk forward, while the lone car behind them honks in protest and swerves around.
Deuce is now awake and in the floor as Boxcars and Slick yell at each other about the fuckin' state of the fuckin' car and how much it fuckin' cost Boxcars to get the fuckin' thing and how much of a fuck Slick doesn't give because he's gonna' shove it down Boxcars' asshole of a mouth.
"Jesus Christ, can we just go?" Droog finally says in a loud drawl, eyes not moving from his paper. Still seething, the two stop bickering and Slick gets out of the car, yelling, "Deuce!" He walks around to the left backseat and Deuce hops in the front passenger seat from inside the car.
"Hey, Boxcars, what'd I miss?" Deuce exclaims, but Boxcars just gives the car a lurch and speeds off down the highway. Spades goes back to sharpening his knife.
Droog can feel Spades sitting next to him, can imagine his skilled fingers moving the stone across the blade, his slumped shoulders and his snarl. Droog reaches up to take the cigarette out of his mouth, then lifts up his head to blow smoke out of the cracked window. Otherwise he doesn't move, keeping his eyes on the paper, feeling Slick who seethes in his normal rage sitting next to him.
That night there's only enough money to afford two bedrooms at the shady hotel, and Slick decides he'd rather be with a boring as hell know-it-all rather than shit-for-brains and The Muscle.
The two sit in the bed as far away from each other as possible, Slick making heist plans and Droog reading a book.
"So, waddya' readin'?"
Droog glances over to Slick. "Some poorly written piece of sex-garbage I swiped from the lobby."
Droog sets the book down on the side table and pulls out a cigarette.
"Gives one ideas, I suppose," he goes on to say, staring at the smoke as it curls up. He follows its path to the ceiling, then closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He exhales.
"Ideas, eh?" Slick says before stars burst in his vision. He's on the floor, and Droog stands towering above him, pin-striped black pajamas adding to his height. Slick jumps up, drawing a knife from his front shirt pocket, snarling. Droog gives a slight smile.
"Bare those teeth all you want, princess," Droog says, grabbing Slick's hand holding the knife and sticking the end of his cigarette to Slick's upturned wrist. Slick makes a noise of outrage and drops the knife, which Droog kicks under the bed. Removing the cigarette and dropping it to the floor, Droog grabs the collar of Slick's shirt and pulls him in close, their noses almost touching.
"It's not going to make me any more frightened."
And their lips meet.
Droog doesn't let go, and after a minute Slick stops squirming. Droog lets go of Slick's burned arm to draw his body in closer, then starts to rub small circles on his back. Slick's hands rest on Droog's collarbones, and he digs his nails into soft skin. Then Slick draws back and punches Droog, making him stumble and fall onto the bed.
"Ya' good for nothin' son of a bitch," Slick snarls as he walks towards him. He presses Droog down on the bed and kisses him, then rips his own shirt loose, causing buttons to fly across the room. Droog is busy unbuttoning his shirt while his other hand travels up Slick's naked back. Slick touches Droog's chest and rakes his nails down the middle, stopping barely above his pant line, then pulls out of their kiss to look Droog in the face. His gray eyes, usually dead, are barely passionate, and Slick's green eyes are still filled with his every desire.
Droog's fingers play with Slick's pant edge as he reaches up for another kiss, and the two resume.
Slick pushes Droog back down on the bed and hisses, "You'll be the one screaming for help, princess." He rips off Droog's pajama bottoms, but grunts when he see's he's wearing underwear. Droog sits up only to be forced back onto his back again as Slick gets on top of him. Slick begins biting softly at Droog's neck, Droog reaching down Slick's pants and edging them off.
"Ya' damn pussy," Slick growls and stands up, stepping out of his pants and letting them fall to the floor. He leans down and starts taking off Droog's underwear with his teeth, and when he's finished he leans in, gloating. He licks Droog's erect member, and Droog sits up, hissing through his teeth as Slick puts his mouth over it. His tongue curls around the lengthy penis and he starts to suck, and Droog grunts, laying back on his elbows, involuntarily thrusting his pelvis to the motion of Slicks mouth. Slick starts moving faster, and Droog grips the sheets, softly moaning, until with a jerk he arches his back and comes inside of Slick's mouth. Slick spits it out onto the floor, and Droog lies back on the bed, breathing heavily.
Slick stands up, but before he can move Droog has thrown him on the bed and has his legs pinned, and is sucking on Slick's own member. Slick moans and pushes Droog's head farther down, pivoting his hips the entire time, growling deep in his throat. Droog brings Slick's body in closer, and swallows as Slick comes. Slick's orgasm is short and guttural, and he punches Droog, who hits him back, and soon they are battling on the bed, each trying to dominate.
Slick gets Droog in the stomach, and before he can get his breath back Slick has turned him around. They are both on their knees, and Slick enters Droog, smirking, then reaches his arm around to grab hold of Droog's member, sliding his hand up and down. Droog gasps at the entry, then moans as Slick goes back and forth inside of him whilst rubbing him.
There are scratches all over Droog's back and chest, and Slick has forming bruises covering his body. Both bleed from the mouth from decks in the face, and Slick keeps raking his long nails down the front of Droog's body. Droog reaches back and grabs Slick's bottom, groaning his name, and they climax. Droog comes on the floor, his orgasm a soft moan. Slick removes himself and lays down on the bed, and Droog lays down beside him.
"Fuck you, Diamonds," Slick gasps out, but Droog only smirks.
They sit in silence for a while, staring at the ceiling, and Droog reaches over Slick to grab a cigarette.
"Gimme' one a' those damn things," Slick demands, and Droog hands one to him then grabs another one for himself. They light up, and Droog blows smoke rings. Slick sniffs.
"Ideas, huh?"
Droog gives Slick a long look. He smiles and wipes away the blood from his mouth, turning back to look at the ceiling.
"Not too many," he finally replies. But by then, Slick is already asleep, snoring softly.