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He despised that man, with all his being. Or maybe, despised was an understatement. Was it the way he just casually walked into his apartment (through the damn window, by the way!)? The way he spoke and flirted with him like they were old friends? Or was it the way he leaned against his kitchen island with that infernal, sexy grin on his face?
Hound had been coming by so often that Joseph had unknowingly been leaving his window unlatched, specifically so he could come in whenever he wanted. Which was usually for job info. Was that why he hated him? Probably. Maybe, had they been something other than colleagues, it would have been easier to like him.
But no, he loathes him. He really, really loathes him.
"Hey, Jollibee, heard ya had a new mission for me." That familiar, low, gruff voice said, and Joseph turns around to face the man in black, stepping into the carpeted living room from the window next to the fire escape. The Frenchman scowls.
"Hound. I thought I told you to take off your shoes before you stepped into my apartment." He said, putting down his mug and folding his arms across his chest, glaring at the assassin with a look that he hoped was intimidating. The assassin just laughs, and shrugs.
"Whoops. Sorry." He apologizes unapologetically, and Joseph feels his eye twitch in irritation. "So, what do you have for me today? Am I gonna take down a big, evil CEO again?" Hound continues, and the strategist sighs, turning to pick up an envelope off the counter and handing it to him.
"No killing tonight. You're supposed to get rid of a file the Tartan company leader has." He says, and Hound snatched up the beige envelope, opening it to view the contents of the file, most of it just being profiles of who he needed to take out, a blueprint of the building he needed to go to, and a detailed description of where to enter.
"The guy who tried to break his contract with us early?" He inquires, and Joseph nods, opening the laptop he had next to the files while Hound saunters over and leans on his elbows to peer at the screen.
"Bourbon isn't happy that he started spreading rumours about her identity. She wants you to destroy the entire computer hard drive." The Frenchman replies, opening up a bunch of different screens, and Hound realizes they were the internal cameras of the company building.
"Wow! You really went all out huh, Josie?" Hound says, cheerfully, and Joseph wanted to slap that smug grin off his face.
"Stop calling me that. And yes, I do this every single time. You know this."
"Oh, I do?"
A frustrated sigh, and a laugh from the man in black.
"How long will it take for me to do this, O strategist, sir?" He says, and Joseph's scowl just deepens.
"If you follow my plan this time, you'll be in and out within an hour."
"So I can do it in thirty minutes."
"What? No! Don't rush the pl—"
"Yeah, yeah, don't rush the plan." Hound waved a hand dismissively, mimicking Joseph's voice (what an irritating bastard). Joseph glares at him, and he just smiles back. "Look, dude," the assassin says, standing up straight again, with a more gentler look on his face. "I promised Elissa I'd stop going home late."
Joseph just watched him, and then sighed. "Yeah. Okay, but don't be hasty."
"I gotcha, Jojos."
*
"Man, you really making me crawl through a vent?" Hound griped, crawling by his elbows through the small space to his destination. An amused chuckle crackled through his earpiece, and he heard Joseph lean back against his squeaky chair.
"What's the matter? Aren't you the great Hound of Bourbon? The best of the best?"
Hound hummed in response, about to reply when Joseph said something else.
"At least you're small enough to fit."
"You motherfucker—"
"Mhm. Don't make too much noise, you'll draw attention to yourself."
Hound grumbled a string of curses under his breath, and continue to crawl towards the vent cover. Once he reached it, he peered down into the room— his target's office, a nice red carpeted room with a huge window behind the chair. The man seemed to enjoy overlooking the city, standing tall and proud. A typical, greedy businessman.
He used the butt of his knife to forcefully open the grate, Joseph hearing the commotion from his end of the call.
"Do you have to be this loud? You're going to get caught." He asks, and Hound grunts in return.
"They can't hear me. Where's my guy?"
Joseph flipped through the cameras to find their target, only to see him deviate from his original route. He was going directly to the office.
"N- Hound, you don't have time to fuck around, he's coming to the office right now."
"What!? Isn't he supposed to be in the meeting room right now?!"
"Well, he isn't! Get out of there!"
"I can't just leave! I need to destroy the computer!"
"It's not worth you getting caught this early! You need to stay safe until—"
"To hell with the fucking plan!"
Joseph was stunned into silence when he cut in, and he heard Hound shuffle around in the office from the other end.
"You know everything about computers, right?" The assassin asks, but it was more of a demand. The strategist nods before remembering Hound can't see him, and mutters a "yes, I do." The other man huffs, and Joseph sees him grabbing the system unit, dragging it out from underneath the man's desk.
"Hound, what the hell are you doing?" He sits up in his chair and stares fervently at the monitor, unable to physically stop him from doing god knows what.
"I'm going to destroy it and then make a run for it."
"What!?"
"Joseph. What's the best escape route from this office right now."
"You—" An angry sigh, and then the clacking of keys. "I'll guide you when you get out."
"Good. You might want to take off your headset."
"What?"
Immediately after, Joseph heard multiple loud shots from Hound's pistol, and ripped his headset off his ears. He stared at the monitor, and saw that the assassin had completely obliterated the computer, smoke steaming from each bullet hole.
"What the fuck?!" He yells into the microphone, and Hound flinches at the shout.
"Dude! What the hell?!"
"Why did you think that was the best idea!?"
"What else am I supposed to do, then?! I didn't have time to erase the data through the fucking computer!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Joseph saw men in suits rushing down the hallway, straight towards the office, as Tartan's leader ducked into a different room, for sure hearing the shots. He sighed, exasperated.
"Whatever. Get out of the room right now and take a left. There's the fire exit at the end of the hallway. Take that route and get the hell back here."
"Got it, babe." Hound barks, but Joseph knows he's trying to keep himself from panicking, so he bites back the retort he wants to say.
He watches the assassin as he books it out of the office, his black leather jacket standing out against the dark red carpet. The men from before, assumedly security for the building, were running after him, weapons drawn, prepared to shoot at Hound if he ever gave them the opportunity.
The shouts demanding he stop flew over his head, and Hound continued running down the hall, seeing the hallway come to an end, with a way to turn either right or left.
"Joseph," He gasps as he nears the end, "which way."
"Go right. The door will be on your left."
Hound ducks to the right, narrowly missing a barrage of bullets that would have taken him out had he not turned right at that moment, and he spies the grey door to the fire exit, beckoning him to just hurry it up. Right before he reached the door, he heard a gunshot, and felt the bullet whiz past his head, nicking the back of his hood. Too close for comfort.
"Okay, I'm in... I'm in the fire escape." He says, keeping the door closed as he tried to figure his way out next.
"Alright. Go all the way down, you'll find the underground parking lot. I'm going to loop the camera feed right..." Some clicking of the keys, "... Now. Get going."
Hound bolts down the stairs, skipping steps on the way, and shoving open the hard metal door to the underground parking lot. There were many cars, meaning many people were in the building. They must have heard the gunshots, then. He sighed. Now wasn't the time to think about that. He needed to get out.
*
"Missed me, darling?"
Joseph turned towards his window, watching Hound slink back inside. He sighed.
"Stop calling me that."
Hound huffed, pulling off his hood, revealing his slate blue eyes. Joseph was one of the only members of Bourbon that have seen him without his hood, being one of the ones he saw frequently (and perhaps, trusted). But even then, he felt a large barrier between them. Hound was the type to keep to himself, even with him nosing himself into someone else's business.
"You got a beer?" He asks, and seats himself on the bar seat at Joseph's island. He sighs, turning to open the fridge and pulling out a can of beer and sliding it across the counter top. He didn't exactly like the stuff, but sometimes he'd find himself buying a six-pack and stashing it in the fridge for when Hound came over. He always asked for one when he returned. Hound flashed a grin and said "Thanks Josie" before opening it and practically pouring it down his throat.
"... It's late. You should go back to Elissa." Joseph says after a moment of silence, and a soft expression crossed Hound's face again.
"Yeah. I should." The assassin swallows the last bit of beer. Joseph sees his throat moving as he swallowed. "... You know, it's almost our anniversary. I'm... thinking of asking her to marry me." He sighs, setting down the now empty can on the counter. Joseph blinks. "While having a job like this? Are you planning on telling her?"
"I don't know."
It was rare seeing him loosen up like this. It was a... Welcomed moment, Joseph thinks.
"You'll have to at some point."
"I know."
"Do you?"
...
Hound looked down at the counter, his fingers loosely interlaced together. He fiddled with his thumbs, biting his bottom lip as he contemplated what Joseph said.
"Yeah. I'll... Probably tell her. I dunno. I'm scared she'll leave because of it, you know?"
The Frenchman sighs. "I know."
More silence.
"I'll see you around." The assassin says, and gets up from his chair, crushing the beer can and heading back to the window.
"Don't litter." Joseph says, and Hound laughs like it was a funny joke.
"I'm not that scummy, Jojos."
And he watched, as the man clad in black slipped out the window, melting into the night.
*
The next time he sees Hound, it's a couple weeks later. He's not his normal, cheery self, more quiet, more reserved.
"Hound." Joseph sees the assassin step in through the window as usual, but he only responds with a nod. Weird. Very unlike him. Joseph almost missed when Hound would call him nicknames, like Jollibee, or Josie. Almost.
"... So... Your... Your mission today is to eliminate someone who's another threat to Bourbon."
"What name."
Joseph looks at Hound in surprise. Straight to business. He couldn't help but feel... Like something was off.
"Uh... Charles Rupert. He's hiding out in a warehouse, and there's plenty of men protecting him in there... so you'll need to be careful." The strategist says, handing another beige envelope to Hound, who takes it quietly, opening it to scan the profile and photograph of the target. Joseph swallows and glances to his office. "There's no cameras in there, so I'll be waiting for your good news." He looks back, waiting for a reaction from him, but instead, Hound just nods before turning to leave.
"... Hey... Hound."
He stopped.
"Is... Is Everything alright?" Joseph inquired, now concerned if he was even well enough to actually do his job. Hound grunts, and turns back to look at him.
"Everything is fine, Joseph." He says, but his tone was low and flat, void of emotions. Something happened. However, before Joseph could even say anything... The assassin was gone. He sighed, seating himself in front of the television and waiting for Hound to return.
*
He woke to the sound of rain, gently tapping on his windows. Joseph looked towards the window as if on instinct, as if something told him there was something he needed to see. And he did— a dark splotch of blood, trailing it's way inside. He got up, running over to the window and looking outside, but then turned to look at the other couch in the living room, and there he was.
Hound, bleeding out on his Tetrad Kandinsky couch, a pained smile on his face.
"'Sup." He says, casually, and Joseph rushes over, noting the deep cut across his left cheek, and the wound he had in his lower stomach.
"What the fuck happened?! Why didn't you wake me up?!" Joseph yells, and Hound just laughs, laying his head against a pillow.
"Looks worse than it actually is, man." He sighs, closing his eyes.
Joseph snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Don't fall asleep!"
"'M not gonna."
"I'm going to get medical supplies, don't move."
As if he could.
When Joseph came back with rubbing alcohol and gauze, he saw that Hound had laid his (non bloody) forearm over his eyes.
"Hound."
The assassin looked at him, icy blue eyes staring down at him as if threatening to scold him into overmorrow.
"What," Joseph starts, "the fuck did you do?" He would be lying if he said he wasn't concerned. Hound never got injured this badly on a job, maybe some scrapes and cuts here and there, but he was always fantastic at his work. After all, he was one of the top assassins in Bourbon for a reason.
"Made a mistake." He wheezed, and then flinched when Joseph pulled up his shirt, the cold air meeting his open wound. Joseph stared at it, making Hound want to dissolve into the couch.
"It's not going to magically heal if you stare at it like that." He squeaks, and Joseph scoffs.
"If I stare hard enough, maybe it will." He spits, sarcastically, using a damp cloth to carefully clean the wound.
"O-okay well, it really isn't as bad as it looks."
Joseph sighed, finally having cleaned up the blood and wrapping the gauze around his torso. Hound was right, it really wasn't as bad as it looked. It was a shallow cut that may heal in a week or two. Now, his face...
"How did the Great Hound of Bourbon get a cut on his precious face?"
"You think my face is precious?"
Joseph glared at him again, and he fell silent.
"You haven't been yourself since the start of this evening. What's wrong?" A demand rather than a question. Hound just looked away, his brows furrowing as he recalled the events of a scene that was repeating in his head over and over again. Joseph, waiting for his answer, reached over to the coffee table to grab the gauze, using a pair of scissors to cut it into a piece large enough to cover the laceration on his cheek.
"... I'm not proposing to Elissa anymore." He said, and Joseph looked back at him.
"What happened? You said love her."
"Loved." Hound corrected, closing his eyes and sighing as he sat up and clasped his hands together. "Caught my friend balls deep in her the other night." He pressed his lips in a thin line. "Can't even look at her anymore."
Joseph sighed, sticking the gauze on his cheek, Hound hissed in pain as the medical tape was used to keep it in place. "You know—" Joseph thinks he hears Hound's voice falter. "She said that it was because I'm never home, I'm working all the time. That I don't-" A pause. "That I don't do enough for our relationship but I try to get home early from the office every night, just because I wanted to see her face before bed."
Joseph got up to go get a can of beer for him. He probably needed that now. The assassin takes the can, gratefully, and practically chugs the entire half of the drink.
"It took everything I had in me to not just..." He clenched his fist, and Joseph knew what that meant.
"Sometimes, I wonder how you... Got a job like this."
"When you need money, you'll do anything to get it."
"..."
They continued talking, and the beer continued being drunk. Mainly by Hound, but Joseph himself had a few cups of wine. He notes that Hound has quite the tolerance for alcohol, but after his sixth beer, he was beginning to get a little loose lipped. He most likely was not capable of making responsible decisions, and Joseph knew that he definitely wasn't able to go home to his own apartment that night.
"Ya know—" Hound says, sniffling a little as he lay back down on the couch, lounging a leg across the far arm and dangling the other off it. Joseph makes a mental note to just buy a new damn couch. It was beyond saving at this point. "Maybe- Maybe it was a good idea I'm out of that relationship."
"What makes you think that?"
"That way I'm not anchored down if anything happens."
"Uh huh." Joseph walked over to grab the empty beer cans, tossing them into a bin for recycling, and then turned to face the drunk assassin. He was never one to drink so much like this, but considering what happened, Hound was probably in a really, really low place. Perhaps he should put in a ticket for him, to take some time off work. He would be a liability if he worked under such emotional stress.
When he came back from the kitchen, he noticed some pillows had fallen to the floor. As be leaned down to grab them, he heard Hound sit up on the couch.
"Hey, if you need a blanket I can go get it for y—"
Hound reached up and grabbed Joseph by the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to-
Oh.
They were kissing.
Joseph couldn't move, bent over in shock as Hound kissed him. It wasn't a passionate kiss, more hungry, wanting. He felt Hound push him onto the couch, climbing onto his lap and straddling him as he continued to kiss him with a feeling like urgency, and Joseph could feel himself returning it, resting his hands on Hound's upper thighs.
When they pulled apart for air, he looked up at Hound's eyes, half-lidded, and cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
"Hound-" Joseph starts, but the assassin just kissed him again to shut him up.
"Not that name."
He was startled. His name... His real name.
"Naib." He breathed, and Naib smiles, a genuine, real smile.
"That's more like it."
"You might regret this."
"I've slept with enough men to know what I will regret."
"You're injured."
"I don't care."
"..."
"I just-" Naib sighs, putting his head on Joseph's chest, his hands gripping onto his shirt. "I just... want to be taken care of tonight."
Joseph looked down at him. Naib was so small, so fragile tonight. Completely different from the other times where he was loud and annoying...
He lifted the assassin's chin, pressing a kiss to Naib's lips, surprising the latter. This time he noticed just how soft they were, and how he melted into him like ice cream in the warm sun. He tilted his head back to deepen the kiss, lapping up all the soft moans and grunts that Naib let slip, his other hand reaching behind his head to untie his ponytail, long brown locks falling around his face.
"Then, shall I fulfill that wish?" He whispers, and Naib feels a shiver run down his spine. He swallowed, dryly, and nodded.
"Please take care of me."
*
Did Joseph expect to bed the infamous Hound at all? No. Not in a million years had he thought they'd sleep together, drunk or not. Yet, here he was, laying in the same bed as a sleeping Naib. He sighed and slowly got up, careful not to wake him (he was sleeping quite soundly, much to the amusement of Joseph. He knew the guy was a light sleeper), and quietly made his way to the bathroom.
His morning routine consists of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and using lotion because that stuff just felt nice. And, maybe he felt proud of being able to best Naib at something now, so he could treat himself to something nice. Naib... Was he okay with him calling him that? He was drunk when he told him to use that name, but was he really alright with it?
When he walked back into the bedroom, Naib had already awoken, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
Cute?
"Good morning, princess." He says, sarcastically, and Naib's head snaps to look in his direction.
"Don't call me that."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your majesty."
His brows furrowed and a mild scowl settled on his face. He didn't say anything, just pushing off the covers to stand up.
Except that seemed to be a little difficult?
He yelped as his knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed on his buttocks with his left hand gripping the blanket. His face flushed bright red, and Joseph couldn't suppress a snicker as he went around the bed to his side. What a scene.
"Don't- don't laugh at me!" He says, covering his face in embarrassment, and Joseph just laughed harder. "I haven't received in- in a while!"
"Okay, okay, no need to stir up a fuss." He leaned down and helped him up (more like picked him up) and set him back on the bed. "You stay here until you get your leg strength back, uh..." He paused. "Naib."
Naib sighed. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you." He seemed fine with being called that. Joseph smiles.
He gets himself dressed in a sweater and jeans before heading into his kitchen to make some food for breakfast. Midway through his cooking, Naib had come out of the room and seated himself at the counter, still a little bit sore but had recovered most of his leg strength.
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.
"I uh..." He winced and clears his throat. "Thank you. And... Sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"You were drunk. I was drunk. This probably uh..."
He was being shy.
"It's fine. I think you needed something— anything to... Well, distract yourself."
...
"Yeah. Uh, thanks."
Joseph set down a plate with a whole omelette, along with a small cup of what seemed to be coffee. Naib sniffed it. Yep, definitely coffee.
"Café au lait." Joseph says, and Naib stares at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Coffee with milk."
"Oh."
A sip.
"It's good."
"Good."
They ate in silence, and after cleaning up, Naib grabbed his coat, shoes, whatever else he had with him, and shuffled towards the window. Then stopped, and turned around, making his way to the actual door.
"Um... thanks, again, Joseph. I'll uh- I'll uh, see you around." Naib said, not turning to face him, but Joseph sees his ears turning red. The door shut itself behind him, and Joseph sighs, smiling.
He hates him a little less now, he thinks.