Chapter Text
Marcoh could swear he was trying his hardest to not grab the doctor by the collar and smash their lips together. Of course, he won't do that, the boxer didn't know if Daan fancies men or, at least, considered the idea. It doesn't change the fact that he's tempted , that every cell in his body is screaming for a little intimacy, for a tiny piece of heaven inside Prehevil or whatever the city has turned into now.
He and the doctor had a simple goulash for their silent dinner. None of them tried to speak to each other and Marcoh didn't know why, but he accepted the silence between them. The flame flicked on the candle illuminating their table, probably because of the windy weather outside. Marcoh often observed how the Von Dutch sipped his glass of whiskey, chapped lips slowly tasting the drink and enjoying the alcohol. Daniël always maintained his posture and refined manners and obviously he won't do it differently when in an abandoned jazz bar inside of a place filled with horrors.
“Is something wrong? You're staring a bit too much at me…” Daan broke their silence and the boxer immediately flustered.
“ ‘m sorry. Didn't mean to bother you.” he averted his gaze, preferring to stare at his meal instead.
“It's okay. Guess I'm distracting you, Marcoh. Am I right?” the doctor had eyes glued on him when he lifted his head.
Santoro knew well what Daan was doing because he did pretty much the same in the past, when a nice guy approached him wanting to spend the night in a more private place. Von Dutch was flirting with him and that gave him the courage to flirt back now he knew they both shared the same inclination. Marcoh didn't need to acknowledge the exact “sexuality” of the other man: being sure he liked men too was enough.
“Yes, an excellent distraction.”
“May I distract you even more after we finish here?” his velvety voice acquired a flirty intonation.
“I'm not opposed to the idea.”
Marcoh didn't notice when he finally finished his meal or when both of them got up and walked towards the PRHVL Bop entrance, he allowed himself to not think about everything happening at that very moment. The boxer’s heart was pounding fast, accelerating with his thoughts, both working together to make him even more nervous — in a good way.
“Do you mind if I smoke a little? Haven't tasted any nicotice tonight.”
“No, it's okay.” Marcoh put his hands inside his pockets, eyes locked on the ground. One of his “default” stances when at clubs or bars.
After some seconds, he felt the urge to lift his head at the sound of his name leaving the doctor’s mouth. “Marcoh.”
He saw Daan inhaling deeply the smoke of his recently lit cigarette and slowly exhaling all while approaching him like a naughty cat; he swore he could hear the other one purr .
“Since when you're interested in me?”
“Day 1. We were exploring the old part of the town, you stopped to diagnose the condition of an infected person.” they're alone in the bar, he didn't need to worry about someone eavesdropping their conversation.
For how long Marcoh keeped this for himself? He tried his best to forget , to deny his feelings, probably because of the absolute guilt he felt every time he fell for another man. The boxer was taught to be caring and hard-working to provide a good life for his future… wife . His family and the priests of the church he used to go always told him he’ll find a good woman , that he’ll be happier when he constituted a family together with his wife and Marcoh’s dad often said he’s a good looking boy so lots of girls would love to have him as their boyfriend.
And he was the one who wanted a boyfriend.
Alll-mer prays from his childhood dominated the boxer’s mind; an useless way to feel less guilty for having such preferences. Marcoh chewed on his lower lip and the Von Dutch noticed his nervousness.
“Are you alright? You seem a bit unwell.” a cold hand reached for Marcoh’s cheek and he almost melted with the touch.
Another sin for a sinner is nothing.
Grabbing Daniël’s waist all of a sudden, Santoro pulled him closer, earning a gasp in response to his action. He is surprisingly warm . “ Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him. ” chanted in Marcoh’s head but he still needed consent. He isn't some surly man who cares only for his own desires.
“Daan or Daniël, I don't know how to call you right now; I’m sorry for all of this I-I jus-”
“You can call me ‘yours’.”
He felt when the doctor placed his hand on the nape of his neck, Marcoh felt when Daan gently pulled him to put their faces closer to each other, he felt when their lips touched and he certainly felt his heart pounding with joy . They slowly adjusted the kiss to make it more comfortable for them both. The boxer allowed himself to savor the moment, to feel a little bit of happiness even if it makes him more guilty afterwards. People like him or Daan always needed to be extra careful: if someone discovered their true selves, prison would be their new home or even worse . Marcoh lost count of how many colleagues and old “partners” he saw being imprisoned or killed. The last one — a cute soldier who worked for Caligura — was brutally beaten to death after being found.
But not now. Not in Prehevil. There's no one to see them, no one to judge. Marcoh deserved this tiny piece of heaven inside of an inhuman hell.
“I wondered what I would taste if I kissed you…” Daniël whispered against his mouth. “I can say I’m content with the flavor.”
“So, please, taste more.” he smiled a bit, immediately rushing for the doctor’s mouth after that.
Nicotine, alcohol and a faint sweet flavor invaded Marcoh’s palate and that made him deepen the kiss, obtaining a soft moan from the Von Dutch. Hands squeezed the doctor’s waist searching for more contact, more intimacy. No, he didn't plan to go further that night even though he wanted to. If Daan wanted as well, maybe .
Then, Daan broke the kiss, panting a bit. “P-perhaps the speakeasy is a better place for us to distract ourselves…”
Oh. He would be the death of Marcoh Santoro.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Maybe he could visit Heaven tonight.