The day continued being sunny and Harry could even experience it first hand during their walk.
Ah yes. Their walk.
They had talked about business, got stuck and somehow Vento had this ridiculous idea to take Harry for a walk, saying that he wanted to show him the city as well.
"I have seen Dublin but I guess you merely spend time actually seeing Palermo. How about we change that?"
"I have to guess that I have seen as much of Palermo as you have seen of Dublin."
"Who knows? We might reach an agreement during it and when I am in Dublin you can show me around then."
And now, as they walked along the coast, the Irish was cursing himself that he had agreed to do this and that there hadn't been at least a bit more resistance from his bodyguards.
"What do you think of Palermo, Harry? A nice city, no?" the Sicilian asked him all out of sudden and Harry cringed slightly.
He sighed instead of answering immediately.
Palermo was a nice city. The baroque city centre, the Norman palaces, the old Arabian buildings, everything looked gorgeous and as if it was supposed to be like this. It wasn't just a cluster that someone made without a plan; Overall it made a beautiful pattern.
But it was dirty, the streets in a miserable condition in some cases and Harry often saw houses that would have been already torn down in other places he had been.
The city seemed like an old emperor, worn out but still proud and noble.
"It really has quite something" he said. "Beautiful? Yes, I'd even say beautiful in its own way."
He noticed Michele's stare but tried to ignore it, yet his teeth gnashed at the next comment: "You couldn't have described what I think when I look at you any better."
"But surely, this city has some not so pretty parts" Harry said. "You for example."
"Oh, not in a good mood today, I see" Michele mumbled. "What do I need to do to get a smile on this pretty face of yours once more? All those angry glares don't suit you."
Harry looked at him, at this man with one of the kindest smiles he had ever seen.
"Jump into the water and drown, then you'll even hear my surely lovely laughter" he said without batting an eye.
"You are so rude, is that usual for Irish people?" the Sicilian asked.
"Only if you piss us off."
"What did I do to piss you off?"
"You flirted with me."
"Why should a little harmless flirt piss anybody off?"
"I thought I was here for business, not for dating. Then we understand the 'Search for a partner' completely different."
Michele chuckled again: "Is it nowadays not allowed to compliment people?"
The Irish glared at him, deciding not to say "You telling me that you want to shag me wasn't what I would consider a compliment" and instead to just not talk to him anymore.
And the other picked up on his reluctance to carry on any conversation, so Harry started to pay more attention to the surroundings again.
They were walking on the small sidewalk, behind a metal railway and far beneath them a small belt of beach where only a few people sat and enjoyed the sun.
A scooter raced past him on the street that Harry cringed once more and as he looked down on the beach again, a young man just put on snorkel equip and jumped into the water.
"And there they go, looking what they will find in the depths" Michele said, looking over the railway as well since Harry had stopped. "I used to do that too when I was a bit younger."
"I see…" was Harry's only answer, eyes still fixated on the happenings down in the water.
He stood here in blazing sunlight, looking down at a beach and catching words of a language he didn't understand every now and then – He got reminded of Dublin.
The Dublin with its big impressive palaces and its dirty quarters, Dublin with its calm citizens that didn't made much stress about anything.
Of course, Palermo was a different king, but he couldn't help but think that they and Dublin were birds of a feather.
"Oh, I finally got what I wanted ~"
Harry turned back to glare at the Sicilian: "What?"
Michele smiled at the Irish: "You smiled about whatever you were thinking about. And I've rarely seen a smile so beautiful as yours, Harry" he added more quietly.
"I didn't smile for you, though" he stated harshly and walked on.
Michele tilted his head a bit as he followed: "I don't see how that changes the outcome."
"It should change the effect though" he growled more to himself than to Michele.
"Alright then" Michele said and his voice sounded almost feeble. "Then let's talk about business."
"Back to the others?"
"What for?"
Harry stopped and looked at him like the Sicilian would have said something like The sun revolves around the earth and pigs can fly: "You are trying to kid me."
He sounded mildly more passionate: "Why should I? We are just two men talking about business, aren't we?"
"Vento, entire Palermo could listen to us now."
"Not if we go into one of those alleys. I know my citiy and I know its secret places."
Harry looked at him but the other showed not more emotion than he did in his voice.
"And this isn't just a trick to make me other immoral offers again, of course."
"Oh no, what I am going to do now that we're still in public and not all alone like yesterday" Michele said in a sarcastic tone.
"Wait, you are less worried about talking about our business than you are about somebody seeing you coming onto me?" Harry asked as he followed him over the street, striving to keep pace with him since he was not eager to get hit by one of the rabid drivers.
Michele frowned and gave him an entertained smile as they went into a small alley: "We're in Palermo, of course the mafia is a much more accepted concept than being gay – Let alone bi or pan."
Harry took a deep breath: "Ah, the fresh smell of our catholic historical bigotry. I am truly at home here."
Michele couldn't suppress laughter and had to snort. He cleared his throat and went around a corner: "You aren't religious, Harry?"
"I am very religious, but there is often a difference between religion and bigotry. Sadly, most of the time, they go hand in hand and since I live in a very catholic country, am very catholic AND have a gay best friend, I've experienced the full range."
"Being pansexual and very religious in a catholic country isn't a piece of pie either" Michele said and Harry looked on his feet, smiling:
"I believe you …"
He rubbed his neck before throwing his head back: "Aww man and if we go to hell! It surely has better weather than Ireland so it can only be an improvement!"
They both laughed and something about it irritated Harry, but he couldn't pinpoint what. He could only say that it wasn't anything bad.
"Hellfire is this isles default temperature in summer, I am going to feel at home down there!"
Harry laughed once more, this time alone, but when he looked back at Michele, he smiled as well. And once more Harry noticed something in the eyes. It was as if the dull gold was gleaming instead of sparkling.
"And I will surely have lovely company in hell" the Sicilian said and offered his hand. "Would you let me lead you the rest of the way? It can get quite confusing."
The Irish hesitated and bit his lower lip but then smiled at him before taking his hand: "Of course Michele."
"Hey, you called me Michele" he replied with an even brighter smile, pulling him around the corner.
And he just wanted to add something when a voice called right from where they had entered the alley just a minute ago and the Sicilian's face froze:
"I am very sorry to interrupt your rainbow moment gentlemen, but I am afraid you will have to come with me."
They looked at each other in surprise but didn't bother to turn around.
"I don't need to see if I want to know who the owner of this voice with the thick Londoner accent is" Michele said. "Although this is the least place where I had suspected to hear it."
"Not only the accent, the whole way he talks screams 'I am a jerk" Harry added, glaring at the Sicilian: "Can say I'm not pleasantly surprised as well."
Michele frowned back: "Oh, you know Robert?"
"I am actually wondering how you know him."
"Stupidity spreads like a disease and so does the reputation of stupid people."
"That is a perfect and logical answer."
"It isn't polite to talk about somebody like that when he can hear it" it came from the tall blond, a slight aggressive tone swinging within words. "Did your parents teach you nothing?"
Finally the two turned around.
"Oh Robert … since when do you care about being polite? The fact that you even know that word, I'm downright amazed. And curious, where from?" Michele responded with a rather tired and annoyed look, paired with a small grin. "Got a dictionary?"
"You are not a gentleman or whatever you think of yourself, you are an arsehole in a suit, Bailey" Harry spat.
"You are sure you are not confusing me with your friend, the Dublin poof? And it seems like you are one as well" Robert growled amused and Harry glared at him, almost clenching his fists.
"Well, I would kick your fucking stupid arse for that, but I'll just gonna tell Charlie instead so he can kick it personally the next time we run in to you. And don't just assume shit if you know nothing, so shut your trap for once because you're lowering the IQ of the whole borough."
Robert looked at them for a few seconds, the blue eyes filled with repressed anger which made the smile only meaner.
"The boss only said you should be alive, he never said something about not injured."
Harry only glared back: "Try it, wanker."
"You know that there are probably more of Kirkland's guys?" Michele whispered to him.
"What should they do, we are still in public, even if it is a shady alley" Harry replied. "They can't do shit, now do they?"
"Well, it's impossible that my men won't know – "
They heard the approaching footsteps too late and Michele's sentence ended in an ugly gagging noise when an arm pressed against his throat.
It was the same game with Harry but lucky for him, the grip around his throat wasn't very tight.
Within a second, his hands had gotten a hold of the arm and pulled down while throwing his head back, hitting his enemy on the chest.
Harry felt dizzy for a second, but the other yelped and eased his grip – Breaking away completely when Harry kicked his knee.
Don't look back, if you get past Robert you'll be on a big street in no time again, then you can save your own sorry arse and then Michele's.
He leaped forward; if he could manage to get his knee into the Londoner's kidneys or even just his damn balls, he'd be able to get past him.
Robert hadn't reacted yet, not even when Harry was in front of him, raising his knee in one swift motion –
Too many damn muscles to move quick enough, huh?! Serves you right.
The Londoner simply took a step back.
"Bloody little rat" Harry heard him say while he steadied himself so he wouldn't fall over, letting his guard down for half a second.
And Robert took the chance.
Taking a step back and with a grin he hauled out, suit tightening to accommodate the new pose of the body.
It looked easy. As if planned. Absolutely effortless.
Not like the punch to his left cheek should hurt this much.
Harry's head got thrown to the side, stars danced in front of his eyes, he stumbled backwards,
"Lewis, move your damn ass!"
"Of course, Sir!"
and before he could come to a hold on his own, somebody grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close. Immediately something got pressed against his mouth and nose and his senses faded quickly due to the biting smell of the cloth in his face, yet he glanced to the side.
Michele sat knocked out on the floor, leaning against a wall.
"Thank you, Miss Varsani" Robert said and it was the last thing Harry heard before everything faded to black.
The Londoner looked down on the limp body in the arms of the Indian woman.
"Can you carry him?" he asked but Varsani shook her head:
"I can barely hold him, Sir."
"Alright, let me handle this then" he replied before looking over to the other Englishman who was still in the same spot he had been a minute ago.
Lewis jolted, shrinking another inch under his glare:
"I'm sorry, Si-"
"Stow it!" he bellowed. "Stop being useless for once and get King!"
Just as he scurried away, the Irishman spouted gagged noises, making Varsani and Robert stare in surprise.
But the young woman reacted quickly with shifting her weight and moving her arms to push against his stomach and after just one quick push he spit something out. Seconds went by but the Irish's head just kept down, not other movement than him breathing and Robert looked down on the street, curious what had bothered O'Connel so much, while Varsani put him down beside Vento.
He had spit out a tooth.
The Englishman couldn't help but grin.
"I should quit staring" Marco murmured to his brother.
"You should totally quit staring" his brother agreed.
"If I don't quit staring he'll think I am up to something" Marco sighed.
"He will totally think you are up to something" Lorenzo backed him.
Even the blank green walls would have been a better place to stare at, but instead Marco had kept throwing looks in the direction of the younger Irish.
Because this Higgins just had a damn well looking suit through and through.
It fit the rest of his appearance almost perfectly – red-brown hair styled messy like he just got out of bed, clearly on purpose and the blue eyes went along ideally with the light blue waistcoat and grey tie.
"Quit staring, Charlie", Paddy sighed, while the other tilted his head.
"I am not staring, I am enjoying the view, old man ~", Charlie said, continuing to look at the twins, who sat 2 meters away on the other end of the room.
He sighed once more: "Now you just got creepier, quit staring."
"Oh come on, Paddy, let me have a little fun here. Frecky gets to be alone with that Apollo of a man, then it is only fair I can dream a bit about those two angels."
"Charlie, sometimes you are a closed book to me."
"What, why? Because I enjoy looking at pretty people?"
Paddy hit him with the elbow in the side that Charlie stumbled a step to the side:
"I – Ah sorry." Paddy grabbed his arm and gently pulled him back. "I wanted to say that I can guess what is going on in your head and that I don't get."
"Oh come on old man, you must have been young at some point, too."
Paddy shifted his look and stared at the wall opposite to him: "This is nothing that can keep you busy for such a long time."
"In the end it is just a movie in my head, therefore – "
"You know that they can hear you?"
Charlie frowned but Paddy ignored it and carried on: "Just because we don't understand them doesn't mean they can't hear us. You would have noticed it if you had looked more closely. Besides, no matter how quiet we whisper, this room is too small."
Marco buried his face in his hands, wanting to scream into them.
Instead he muttered "I should have quit staring" as his brother's phone rang and he put his hands down, looking to him as he answered:
"Pronto?"
And just after one second, Lorenzo's look had disbelief written into it:
"Kidnapped?"
Marco unintentionally copied his brother's face as he carried on:
"What do you mean with they got away, how can they get away, we know everything he – No, you listen!"
"Charlie?" Paddy asked when the other one's look had changed; He was frowning again, questioning and sternly. "What are they saying?"
"All I can say is that they got bad news" Charlie said as the twins exchanged a few words.
One kept talking on the phone, the other turned to him:
"It seems like we have to tell you something."
"Who got them?" Charlie asked, earning a surprised look from Paddy and the twin. "I got the 'kidnapped' and that for sure."
"That important English bastard – "
"Kirkland" Paddy ended the sentence and the Sicilian scowled:
"Supposedly, since his big blonde monkey was seen here."
"Bailey!" Charlie replied this time with a fake smile.
"Seriously, where do you know them from?" Marco asked and Charlie laughed while Paddy grinned, which only darkened the look on the Sicilian's face.
"Because Irishmen and Englishmen don't get along well" Paddy said. "No wonder he came here to bother us."
"How I could not know this big blonde monkey when he is the one to gossip the most about me?" Charlie grinned, walking over to the table. "Pray tell me where you know that homophobic tosser from."
"Doesn't matter now, does it" Marco replied. "You just need to know that we are in the same boat."
"And that boat is sinking right now" Lorenzo growled, tapping on his phone before putting it to his ear again.
"Great, and what's the plan now?" Charlie asked.
"You be quiet and let us do our job" the twins said synchronously and the others stared for a second, causing the Sicilians to raise an eyebrow before Lorenzo was occupied with a call again.
"Okay, Gentlemen, that was creepy" Paddy said.
"That was creepy indeed, please don't do that ever again, Christ" Charlie backed Paddy's words. "Do you really mean that?" he pressed Marco.
"Of course we mean that, what did you expect?"
The Irish leant in to them: "I beg your pardon, but I'm not just gonna sit here and wait twiddling my thumbs when my best friend got kidnapped by his archenemy. Especially since you apparently managed to see how they got kidnapped and yet lost them again."
It didn't even take two seconds before Marco grabbed his tie and pulled him closer: "You want to play games, Signore Higgins?" he hissed. "It's not only your best friend who got kidnapped but our big brother and you shouldn't piss me off any further with your thoughtless blabber and fucking accusations. We know what we are doing."
"You have beautiful eyes, I could drown in them" was Charlie's answer. "They're like molten amber, damn. And sorry, I didn't mean to drive you mad, I am just worried by myself, could you now please let go? That tie was too expensive to scrunch it up."
The Sicilian pulled him even closer, not able to decide if he should just let go of him or smash his jaw on the table, when the other started to speak again:
"Okay, either you want to kiss me or you got even madder. For the first thing – just do it, please and for the second – I am honestly sorry, I do believe that you two are just as worried as me about your boss, okay? And pull a bit tighter and I'm gonna choke."
He pulled more, forehead almost touching Charlie's and looking him dead in the blue eyes: "Good."
Paddy cleared his throat loudly and even if the Sicilian couldn't see the older man, he could imagine the judging look.
With a "Tsk!" Marco let go of him and looked away while the Irish straightened himself up and his tie as well.
"Thanks. Back to the original statement, I'm not up to sit around and do nothing."
"No, you are up to flirt with my brother" Lorenzo snarled. The phone laid on the table, his hand on it.
"Oh boy, if you are jealous then I can flirt with you as well. I mean, you're just as beautiful as him-"
"Charlie. They are right, how about really doing something for a change" Paddy said and the younger one looked at him – both ignoring the twins' "We don't want or need you to do anything!"
Right, he is right. Okay, focus again, focus on what you said. You can not only talk, you've got to suit the action to the word. Yes, but how? Keep thinking, keep thinking, use what's in your pretty head …
He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen.
"What are you doing?" the other Irish asked and Charlie turned his head to him.
He grinned: "Things."
Harry woke up with a massive headache and pain pulsating through his teeth. He moaned and put his head back, trying to stretch himself -
He only stretched the ropes around him and made the handcuffs on his hands jingle, because next thing in this long list of surprises was that he was tied up to a chair.
"Bloody fucking goddamn he – ahhhahaaaaa!"
Okay, teeth hurt, speaking hurt, what the hell was going on?
Slowly the Irish slid his tongue over his teeth, tasting blood and feeling something wet, papery pressed in a tooth gap –
Wait, tooth gap?
"THOSE IDIOTS KNOCKED ME A TOOTH OUT!"
"Ahhh, you finally woke up" he heard Michele beside him and slowly moved his eyes to his left to glare at him. If looks could kill, the Sicilian would be deader than dead by now.
"It's. All. Your. Fault" he hissed and Michele looked a bit offended and surprised:
"What? How is it my fault now?"
"If we would have gone to your place or just kept walking on the main street, this all wouldn't have happened!"
The tone changed to fully offended as the Sicilian replied:
"You say that as if I am their partner! I don't know how your partners in crime have treated you, but as one you rarely end up tied to a chair after being knocked out with chloroform!"
The Irish bit his lip and glared at him, then turned his head away: "This is the worst situation I've ever been in!"
"Don't be such a drama queen, it could be worse."
With a sugar-voice Harry turned to him again: "Did they knock you a tooth out? No they didn't." The sugar became a pissed off growl: "So shut the fuck up Vento!"
"Could you lovebirds be more quiet? Someone's trying to read The Independent in peace" it came bugged from another Person with a Londoner, yet strange accent.
Tahir sat half-hidden in the shadows three meters away from them on the same uncomfortable chairs as they did with a newspaper in his hands. His expression was emotionless as usual, maybe the brows a bit furrowed in annoyance.
"He said lovebirds."
"Shut up Vento."
"Our chemistry is apparently so strong that even somebody like Signore Rashid notices it."
"This is worse than the one time when I was locked away with Charlie for hours."
"Don't deny your feelings for me, bello."
"The only feeling I have for you is a rapidly growing, fierce hate."
"Fine, then lie and be rude to me again if you got to."
"And then saying I am acting like a drama queen."
"When I said yes to this, I thought the part with killing people and being a disgrace to society would be the worst part, but no, of course not, it's bickering gits" the Londoner murmured when he heard the door screeching.
"Good afternoon Gentlemen" Arthur said after he stepped into the room of an abandoned, unfinished building they were sitting in.
"Arthur! How nice to see you again!" Michele greeted him with his special smile and crossed his legs. He still looked like it was all just a game between friends, while Harry didn't even come near this look. He looked like he would to strangle the Englishman right here and right now if the ropes and handcuffs weren't in the way.
"You knocked me a tooth out, wanker!" he spat – literally, there was still a bit blood in his mouth and he tried to put it to good use by getting it on Arthur's suit.
"Oh, I didn't do it but trust me, it'd have been a pleasure" the Englishman gave back. "And I wouldn't have minded my suit getting dirty from it, but now that'd be just disgusting."
Suddenly, Harry started to grin from one ear to the other: "Téigh I dtigh diabhail.*"
"And now were speaking in devils tongue."
"Feisigh leat.**"
Arthur leant in to him: "Bloody little dirty leprechaun."
He slurred the next words: "Seems like I wasn't specific enough – Gabh trasna ort fhein.***"
And with that he spat the tissue from his gap, soaked full of his bloody spit, right on Arthur's suit.
He heard the Sicilian chuckled and his subordinate ask: "Do you want a handkerchief, Sir?"
"That'd be very nice, Mister Rashid."
Michele, who had watched their conversation with interest, now shifted his look to the other Londoner. He hadn't seen the other man very often but whenever he did, it was standing tall in perfect posture and a perfectly relaxed face.
Very different from the two men who carried on with their argument beside him.
"Doesn't speaking hurt you bastard?" Arthur asked after wiping his suit with the handkerchief.
"It does a bit, but your pissed-off voice is the best painkiller" Harry replied before Arthur slapped him across the face with the rag:
"Wipe that insufferable grin of your face."
Michele coughed and they both looked at him: "May I ask why the whole thing? Though the lovely chit-chat of you two, I don't think we are here because you missed our company, Arthur."
The Englishman straightened up and cleared his throat: "Right. You are because I am going to kill you. I am very sorry gentlemen, but you just cause too much trouble."
"I don't think that I can let this happen" the Sicilian responded. "Besides that, we didn't cause trouble at all – if we desist from Harry's behaviour like half a minute ago."
"Vento, stop calling me Harry", it came from the Irish.
"I call him Arthur as well so why not?"
"Because he also qualifies as the others where you should not use my first name."
"I am sorry to interrupt your domestic quarrel, but can we please get back to the original topic?" the blond interrupt them. "It is just that O'Connel's business will finally disappear and you won't gain ground somewhere else besides your little corrupt bloody island, Vento."
"It's a beautiful, corrupt island" Michele said, a slight anger in his voice.
"And you will die on it. Isn't that nice?" Arthur put a small smile on his face. "Any other things you need to discuss with me here?"
"When will you finally fuck out of my damn life?" Harry asked.
"Sooner than you'll think" was Arthur's answer as Rashid spoke up:
"Don't you think we should hurry up a bit, Sir?"
"Of course, Mister Rashid. You may take care of what's left here."
"As you wish, Sir."
After one last look to Michele and Harry – both of them glaring at him – Arthur disappeared from the room and the other man walked over to his chair and pulled up a bottle that was hidden under it, taking off the lid.
"Well gentlemen, this smells like chloroform to me. What do you think?"
*Go to hell.
**Fuck you.
***Go fuck yourself sideways