The Symphony Hall

Pre-Bebop, pre-Julia. Twenty-year-olds Spike and Vicious are low-time gang members for a group called the Red Dragons, but when an opportunity makes itself clear, their lives are changed. Rated R for cussing and adult situations.

Radishface

~ 6 ~

Days passed, and there was no call from Wolfe alerting Vicious of the plans for relocation.

He hadn't talked to Spike in the last few days either.

Vicious had spent his last few days trying to get a hold of him. He had called the morning after the new location arrangements were made, and had gotten Spike's answering machine. He had then tried the cell phone, but he got the machine as well. And after the first few tries, a little pang of worry had started up in the back of his head, nagging at him to go check up on Spike, see what he was doing, because Spike wouldn't mind, had never minded, when Vicious dropped by for the occasional visit.

But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Going to visit Spike would mean providing a reason for doing so.

He didn't have a reason.

So he was left smoking a pack a day for three days, waiting for either Wolfe or Spike to call him and tell him what to do, and then one evening, his phone rang.

"Vicious."

"Wolfe." He said, sinking back onto his couch, rubbing at his temples. "What took you so long?" He didn't have the energy to yell at the man, because all that energy had been expended on pacing back and forth in his kitchen, thinking about who Spike was with now, why the hell he was wasting his time with women when he should have been inquiring as to what his new position was.

"I had business to attend to." Wolfe said, his voice cool on the other side of the phone. "There were transactions to make."

"We don't own anything." Vicious said. "It couldn't have taken you more than an hour to sign any papers."

"What I told you about that night was purely tentative." Wolfe said. "I was asking for your opinion on where you wanted to be placed, and I worked that into the deal. If I hadn't asked you, they would have gone ahead and made the changes, and then where would you be?"

"I didn't ask for your help."

"I'm looking out for my own interests." Wolfe said. "They just happened to coincide with yours."

Vicious knew exactly what Wolfe's interests were, but didn't voice his thoughts. "How fortunate for me, then."

"Listen, Vicious." The man's voice had grown softer, more coaxing. "I need you to cooperate with me. The papers I signed were joint transactions. We can move some of our members into one of their buildings now. I need you to go and finish negotiating with their men before everything is finished."

"Negotiating?" Vicious felt like laughing. "That's not my high point, Wolfe."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Wolfe's voice was slightly patronizing, and Vicious gritted his teeth. "But you might as well bring Spike along with you. He's congenial enough."

"All right." Vicious said, his voice controlled. "Who is it we're supposed to meet?"

"The Chinese are sending their treasured houseboys." Vicious could see Wolfe's smirk. "Shin and Lin. You'll meet at the Regent at five in the afternoon the day after tomorrow. It's a dinner occasion, so mind your manners."

Wolfe hung up.

~

When Vicious woke up the next day, he decided to go to the library. He drove himself there, keenly feeling the absence of a certain annoying fluff-head, and dismissed the thoughts before he could think about them any more.

He got out of the car, feeling slightly groggy, and stumbled his way up the steps into the formidable building. It was the city's central database for information, trivial and important, and also served as an underground gathering for gangsters who didn't want to look conspicuous. But that wasn't the reason Vicious was here-- he needed to brush up on his basic formal dining skills.

But it was familiar to him, after all, since he had grown up in his father's household. That didn't mean he was invited to his father's nightly gatherings, it just meant he went to a moderately decent private school and was taught all the manners a gentleman of his social stature should have. Always start on the outside and work your way in.

That wasn't just a rule for silverware.

He was lying to himself, he thought, putting the book away on the shelf as he spotted two women and one man, sitting on the armchairs, conversing quietly among themselves, laughing in hushed voices. The books, the manners, the dining experience. It didn't mean anything. But the thing that meant something wasn't here anyway, so what was he supposed to do?

"Oh, Vicious."

He wondered when he started to think about things differently, and cursed at himself, while smiling to the woman who had risen out of her chair. "Lisa." He acknowledged, his hand shifting uncertainly to a pocket, rubbing the fabric inside. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." She smiled, revealing a mouth of perfect white teeth. "Haven't seen you in a while, though."

He looked at her, her blonde hair, her fair complexion, and wondered if it was her day off. "I've been busy." He said. "I could use a break."

Her lips quirked up slightly, and she put a hand on his arm. "So I see." Raising her voice a bit, she turned to the other women, who were staring at him in polite indifference. "Have you met Adrienne and Eddie?"

Adrienne's dry red curls hanging limply down the sides of her face, as if she had just washed her hair, and she had a ridiculous amount of mascara on. Eddie was lanky and tall, with a shock of dark hair and light skin, and he slouched confidently in his chair, if a person could do such a thing.

"My pleasure." He said, mustering a ceremonial smile.

"It's nice to meet you." Adrienne said, the same time Eddie said, "I don't think he has."

"Adrienne's works upstairs in the offices, so Eddie and I thought we'd come and visit her during her break." Lisa said conversationally, and linked his arm in hers. "Addy, don't think me rude, but Vicious and I have some catching up to do, and I'm sure you have to get back to work soon." She squeezed his arm for emphasis, but only Vicious noticed it, of course.

They left, walking through the shelves, arm in arm, and behind him, Vicious thought he heard Eddie whistle, and high-pitched laughter, probably coming from the other woman.

"Oh, don't mind him." She said, holding a smile back. "He's one of those."

"One of those..." Vicious trailed off blankly, and she turned to look at him as he squinted when they stepped out of the building and into the sun. Damn, it was bright.

"He's gay." She said, quickening her pace. "And he's busy all the time, just like you." He decided not to inquire further.

He nodded. "Is it your day off?"

She mock-glared at him and laughed. "I don't have off days." She shook her head. "And I can see it, you don't have to say it. Yes, Adrienne and Eddie are in the business as well."

"So why were you at the library?" Vicious felt himself smile, and heard himself say somewhere, no, you're supposed to be angry, you know you're angry, why forget about it when it means so much to you?

Lisa scoffed and playfully punched him on the arm. "You're not one to pretend we're a real couple, are you? You're so inconsiderate, never thinking about how the lady might feel about all these one-night stands." She smiled, though, and looked at her nails. "When am I going to meet your little friend, anyway?"

Vicious raised an eyebrow.

"Spike?" Her brow furrowed in thought. "I think that was his name."

Vicious looked off across the street. "He... I don't know."

Vicious was trying to remember what he said about Spike after his sessions with her, when they were sitting in his bed and she was talking, and he was seeing her through a haze of smoke, a cigarette held loosely between her fingers. She was doing her duty as usual, trying to help out a couple friends of hers within their community, casually asking, do you have any friends? which meant, of course, do you have any friends we can fuck with? and he hadn't been too alert, his mind still in the recesses of finished sex, and he had said something, Spike.

Oh, she had said, a light of business-like interest in her eyes. What's he like?

Vicious had chuckled quietly to himself. He's a little bitch. And he had taken a long drag on his cigarette, because Spike liked to do the same thing, and smoking cigarettes reminded him of Spike, with his nonchalance and his carefree arrogance.

He wondered what he would have said if Spike had asked him a question, what am I to you?

His hand would still be holding the cigarette, it'd probably be a column of ash, falling on the bedspread. He'd be clothed, of course, and Spike would only be visiting, and for some reason, they would have been in his room and Vicious would have been on the bed, maybe they were drinking, talking, smoking. And Spike would ask him something about friends and Vicious wouldn't smoke his cigarette because he only did that when he wanted to remind himself of Spike, and Spike was already there.

He didn't know what he'd say.

~

Afterwards, Lisa had left, he had paid her, and he was in this room, some room he didn't know, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his thumb stroking absently over the rough material of the sheets.

If he had made Lisa stay, he could have called Spike, and if Spike had picked up the phone, he would have heard them.

Spike wouldn't feel anything, though.

Vicious shut his eyes and he bit down on the cigarette in his mouth.

~

He arrived in the lobby of the Regent fifteen minutes before five and when he saw Spike was already there, sitting on one of the couches, flipping through a magazine. He was dressed a little better than usual, his pants pressed, his dress shirt tucked in, his tie knotted, his jacket draped over the arm of the couch. When he saw Vicious, he grinned, and stood up.

"So, was she a virgin?"

Spike's smile faded. "What?"

Vicious kept a smile on his face, but his voice was icy, and he didn't want it to be that way. Why should he care? It was Spike's life, and Spike's affairs, and Spike's bed partner, and he shouldn't care if she was a university graduate or an air-headed bitch who was instantaneously attracted to Spike's easy charms and his relaxed demeanor and his fuzzy, uncombed hair.

But he did.

"She must have been a virgin more than once if she kept you occupied for so long."

Spike's brow furrowed and Vicious noticed the way his lips quirked, the way his eyelashes looked, smudged against his cheeks as Spike closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.

"I know you were trying to call me." He said, sounding apologetic. "But my phone was out of order, and my cell was in the shop--"

"Your answering machine was on." Vicious said, surprised at the accusing tone in his voice.

Spike scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. "The receiver wasn't in commission, then. And you know how I hate that machine."

Of course, Vicious thought. I know you hate answering machines, when you could have the real voice, the real thing. You're alive like that. You don't want to communicate with a machine or an automated voice-- that's just how you are.

"I'm sorry about it." Spike continued. "Wolfe stopped by to tell me about this meeting, though."

Wolfe stopped by to-- "What?" Vicious ground his teeth so hard he thought they would crack.

"I made him stay in the kitchen so he couldn't see the mess in my room." Spike grinned. "You wouldn't believe what I did with that girl." He looked like he was going to say more, but didn't.

Vicious seated himself on the couch Spike had vacated and watched as Spike sat in the armchair across from him. "And no, he didn't." He was running a hand through his unruly hair, and Vicious watched his face, his expression.

"Who didn't?" He said wryly, but his throat felt constricted, and forced a smile onto his face, one of good humor. It looked completely out of character, but Spike was looking at the ceiling, squinting at the chandelier, and didn't see it.

"Wolfe didn't." Spike said. "I mean, he didn't try anything."

Vicious knew that would be the answer, but hearing it from Spike somewhat reassured him, even if Spike tended to undermine Wolfe's double-laced comments when they were aimed at him.

"They're here." Vicious said, as the doors opened and two young men walked in. They were about the same height, same stature. Spike snapped out of his reverie and glanced at them. Vicious stood up.

"Vicious--" Spike said, not quite looking at him. "Look, I'm sorry."

He forced a tight smile on his face and hoped that it looked forgiving enough, even though he didn't know who needed to be forgiven, who needed to repent. "It's all right."

"I mean--" Spike started again, sticking his hands into his pockets, throwing a hurried glance over his shoulder at Lin and Shin, who were walking towards them. "If you had something to tell me, you could have just dropped by."

His voice held a note of hurt, and it was as if he had expected Vicious to come visit him when his phone wasn't working to complain about Wolfe, to wonder about their new assignments, to anticipate their first meeting with the Chinese, to tell him about why he had wasted his afternoon fucking Lisa when he could have been talking with Spike.

But what could I tell you? Vicious thought as he looked at Spike, wanted to look at his eyes, and didn't want to.

What reason could I give you?

Brown eyes looked up to meet his grey ones and Vicious wanted to say I forgive you, you know that, and I was never really angry about anything, just my mind fucking around with me, playing games, and if I give into them then we might have to work separately, I might have to leave you, and then you might-- I might--

"Excuse me." A voice said, and Vicious shook himself out of it.

"I am Yeung Shin-Zhou." The man with the longer haircut introduced himself to them. "And this is my brother, Lin-Huang."

Spike held Vicious' eyes for a second longer and then turned around, a smile on his face, and it seemed like nothing was wrong.

"Yeah, we've heard of you."

~

The dinner had gone smoothly enough. Spike had managed to make the conversation light-hearted, while Vicious addressed the more serious issues with Yeung Shin-Zhou.

Please, call me Shin.

Shin had explained the system they had in the syndicate, how assignments would be run, how the black market trade would go. Spike sat across from him, and was conversing animatedly with Lin, and they laughed every once in a while, causing Vicious to be distracted momentarily.

The Elders are very interested in Red Eye, Shin had said. Not only would this steroid be a voluble asset to our own syndicate, but would also be a very profitable substance to gain a hold of internationally. The Elders already have already bought stock in NeuroSyntax, the cover company that produces Red Eye underground on Earth.

Vicious had been watching Spike when he was saying this. He knew how much Spike disapproved of using it, how they both tried to stay away from it as often as possible, choosing other alternatives. Spike considered the substance as an insult to his ability, thought of it as a shame upon the arts of combat.

One time Vicious had used it, and Spike had ended up having to carry him home.

We know you'll be working in our narcotics division. Shin had said, picking at his food with his silverware. But we've heard of your capabilities from your superior, and it is my guess that the Elders will not waste your abilities in that department. Your superior does not know of our plans yet, and it is my advice to you that you do not relay this personal information to him.

Spike was signaling the waitress for dessert, Vicious realized, and as she approached the table, he saw him lean in and whisper in her ear, making her blush. Spike was laughing, Lin was chuckling to himself, looking slightly amused, and the waitress scurried off. Vicious' hands were twisting the tablecloth, out of sight, and Shin didn't notice this.

We were also known as the Red Dragons back on Earth, before we moved our location here. Shin was saying. We still have many assets back there, but it is in our interests to obtain favorable mergers here on Mars. It is a strange coincidence that your group is also known as the Red Dragons, and perhaps that is why the Elders sought you out. You have a formidable reputation.

When Spike dropped his fork, Lin picked it up for him.

~

Ack! There shall be more to come, as soon as I can get them out! Sorry for the wait-- I have recently been exploring other fandoms, and have sadly neglected this for a bit.

As for the -In Brothers… I have plans for them. They're much too sexy to resist. Here they only get a little part… but there will be more. ^_^

Poor little Vicious. Pining away for Spike, are we? Shag! Screw! Sleep with each other! _ Unfortunately, story developments are priority. But they will, I promise. Until next time, then.