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Chapter Text

Coricopat Zimmerman was seated at his desk, pouring over his work. He glanced at his clock and seriously considered taking a break. After another few minutes he finally rose and made his way into the kitchen to fix something up for a late supper.

He paused at a knock on the door, but opted to ignore it. They could either come back later, or if it was who he thought they had a key. He returned to his desk and his work, nibbling at a sandwich and continuing to ignore the door.

Several moments later the door swung open, Macavity muttering under his breath. "You could be polite, you know," he called out, slamming the door shut with his foot.

"If I didn't answer the door it means I wished to be left alone," Coricopat replied, not looking up from the papers in front of him.

"You always want to be left alone," Macavity deadpanned in return.

"Why are you here, Mac?"

"Because! The night is young, life is afoot, and you're stuck in here again!" Macavity protested, hands out. "We're going out."

"I don't want to go out at the moment, Mac. I have work to do," Coricopat looked up from his work finally.

"You haven't gone out in a year and a half and," Macavity moved forward, lifting up the notes Coricopat was working on. "The work will be here tomorrow."

"Hey! Whether I want to go out or not is my business not yours, Macavity."

"I'm your best friend. Actually, only friend. As such, it is my duty to make sure you have a life," Macavity returned.

"Why are you my best friend again?"

"Cause I'm the only one that would ever have you. Now get up, we're going out."

"Why do I not go friendless?"

"Because even you aren't that masochistic," Macavity replied and clapped his hands. "Now, up."

Coricopat sighed, "Must I?"

"Yes," Macavity returned. "You really must. I'll even give you fifteen minutes to preen if you agree now. If not, I'll drag you out as you are."

"Fine..." he finally got up, "I'll be out in a bit. Where are you dragging me?"

"A club," Mac replied. "Where there is music and drinks and actual people!"

"Which club Mac?" Coricopat headed to his room to get changed.

"Would that matter?" Macavity asked, leaning against the desk and riffling through Coricopat's papers and fiddling with his paper weight. "I mean, do you even know the names of any clubs here?"

"Perhaps not," the other admitted. "I hardly think I should be going to one though, depending on its repute."

His best friend just rolled his eyes. "It'll be fine. No one will even know it's you."

"And how do you plan to accomplish that?"

"I have no plans to accomplish anything. Club policy will take care of that, now are you ready yet?"

His friend came out dressed in an outfit similar to what he'd been wearing-slacks, shirt, tie and vest-but looking far more pressed and his hair combed. He picked up his coat, "As I'll ever be I suppose."

"Good," Macavity said, glancing him over once. "You look almost presentable."

"Thanks for that. If we don't leave now, I'm staying here though," his friend returned.

"We're leaving, we're leaving," Macavity said, stepping back toward the door and into the chilly night air before heading for the nearest underground station.

Following the red head off the metro and back into the night air, Coricopat paused at the foot of the stairs which led up to the club, "Mac, I really don't think this is a good plan."

"You're saying that now?" Macavity demanded, already heading up the stairs where a couple people were standing and talking to the doormen.

"I said that back at my apartment, and I still think it's a bad idea."

"Cor, you've been moping in that apartment the last, what, year and a half? Get out and live already."

"I've hardly been moping," he protested, but followed Mac up the stairs.

"By everyone's definition except yours, yes you have," Macavity said, stopping in front of the doorman and saying something quietly before accepting two masks and handing one to Coricopat. "Here."

Coricopat considered the mask for a long moment and seriously thought about just turning around and heading home. The trip back would hardly be worth it at that point though. He sighed, putting the mask on, "Alright then, Mac. Lead on."

"Have I ever steered you wrong?" the taller man asked with a grin before slipping inside off the old fire escape stairs.

"Several times," came the response before Coricopat followed him inside.

The darkness outside abruptly switched into black light, highlighting all the white in the room and turning the other colors neon. Something techno pounded through the room as several people milled about, watching two female dancers and taking drinks, while in the corners of the club there were various tables set up, where it looked like card games were going. Behind the dancers, a man in a white shirt, tie, black pants and white oxford perched, watching the entire room from behind a white mask.

Coricopat's gaze flickered around and he shook his head. The techno beat was going to give him a headache by the end of the night, and the black light was doing nothing for his eyesight. He caught up to Macavity and leaned up next to the other's ear, "First night out for me in a year and a half and you bring me here? There are a dozen other clubs in the next few blocks."

"Sure," Macavity said. "You need to get out of your comfort zone."

"Right, of course. I forgot who I was talking to. Easing me back into social interaction is too much to ask."

"More inclined to toss you off a cliff than ease," Macavity replied, grin obvious even with the mask.

"And I'm far more inclined to attempt to knock your block off than to stay here."

Macavity rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Relax, Cor. Have a drink," and he swiped two off the nearest serving tray, handing one over.

Coricopat took the drink, considering it for a moment but not taking even a sip, "And how long are we here?"

"Until you enjoy yourself," Macavity replied, eyes tracking one of the dancers.

Rolling his eyes at his friend, the slender brunet turned his attention at least partially to the dancers, sipping at his drink. His gaze drifted away from them after a moment to focus on the dj, the way the black light lit up his clothes was eye catching in its simplicity. Compared to the way the rest of the room lit and the colors in evidence on the dancers, it added a touch of elegance to the figure.

The song ended, and the two female dancers retreated for a moment to the back of the room, where the man was sitting.

"So," Bombalurina drawled, pulling the white jacket she'd been wearing off and tossing it under a curtain at the back of the stage area. "Picked out the most awkward guy in the room yet?"

"I don't always do that," the dj replied.

Griddlebone shrugged out of her jacket as well, adjusting the rest of her clothes so they lay right, "Oh yes you do. And if you haven't spotted him, I have."

"Really?" he asked, glancing down at her with a grin. "And where, praytell, would that be?"

"See the tall redhead over there," She nodded toward Mac. "The brunet next to him, stiff as a board."

"Course you noticed him," Mistoffelees laughed. "He's standing right next to your type."

Griddlebone smirked, "Well of course. One would hardly notice him otherwise. He's handsome enough, but not much about him stands out I'd say."

"Besides the extreme awkwardness, of course," Mistoffelees agreed as Bomba just chuckled.

The middle eastern dancer laughed at that, "Something like that, yes."

Propping his chin on the palm of his hand, Mistoffelees considered. "I'll keep your suggestion in mind, now, both of you shoo back out there."

Grids rolled her eyes, but nodded, "Alright, alright. Let's go do as he says, Bomba."

"You mean actually work to earn our pay?" Bomba asked, fluffing her red hair and heading back out onto the smallish space that functioned as their stage.

Tossing her hair behind her shoulder, Grids followed Bomba onto the dance floor, starting into their next routine.

Mistoffelees watched them for several moments, eyes straying around the room and considering it all, stopping several times upon the tense looking man that Griddlebone had pointed out.

Coricopat tried to relax, he really did, but there was little to aid him, though the drink was helping somewhat. His gaze remained on the dj rather than on the dancers, he wasn't interested in being here, but he couldn't' very well leave. The dancers were more the sort he could see Mac going for, but either way certainly not his taste.

Macavity glanced over at his friend and nearly rolled his eyes. Well, the point of the evening had been to get Coricopat out of the house, enjoying it wasn't actually necessary. Spotting a rather short and rotund man enter the room, Macavity's shoulders straightened back. "Excuse me," he said, putting a hand on Coriopcat's shoulder and setting his drink down. "I'll be back shortly."

The brunet turned to his friend in confusion, "What? Where are you going?"

"I said I'll be back," Macavity said, already weaving through the crowd.

Coricopat gaped after him before spotting where he was headed, "Business. He brought me here so he could have a business meeting..." He shook his head and considered leaving then. If Mac wasn't there he couldn't stop him.

Just then the song changed, something less of an overwhelming sound and the dancers took a step back as the simply clad dj moved forward. "You sir," he said, gesturing with a flourish to Coricopat. "Would you care for a dance?"

Several of the old costumers who had been going there for a while, chuckled and moved out of the way.

Coricopat took a half step back, "I was just on my way out."

"Are you not enjoying your evening then?" the man asked, tilting his head. It was clear his body motions were practiced to be seen not only from a distance, but to convey emotion even through the black light and mask. "Have another drink at least."

The taller man glanced around, cursing Mac to every form of hell he could think of, "I really should be going."

"Do you have somewhere to be?"

He could lie. The only people who could normally call him on them were not present, but he felt compelled to answer honestly. Coricopat shook his head, still rocked back on his foot nearest the door, poised to leave.

"Then why are you running out so quickly?"

"I..." He had no excuse. The claim of work died on his lips, he had done so much work he could probably take a week off and still be ahead of where he was due to be.

"Then stay," Mistoffelees said, and Bomba helpfully handed him a drink which he held out.

Coricopat eyed him warily for a long moment before finally accepting the drink, "I can't stay long."

"Of course not," Mistoffelees replied, voice clearly remaining skeptical. "But for as long as you're here, what do you desire?"

The other drew back slightly, "What?"

"You're here, aren't you?" the shorter man offered, eyes tracking up to the other's face. "So you must desire something."

"I desire nothing more than to be left in peace. This was a way to accomplish that."

That actually startled a laugh from the dj. "You're looking for peace? Here?"

"I am looking to appease those who would disturb it," came the response. "If that means a night here then that means a night here."

"Still, a very interesting choice to find peace," Mistoffelees murmured, and took half a step back. "How would you feel then, for a dance?"

Coricopat considered for a long moment the pros and cons of that, still looking like he was ready to head for the door. He finally nodded, "I suppose I could handle one."

Mistoffelees took half a step back as the song changed again. He moved to the side of the stage area as Bomba and Grids moved forward to circle the angular man.

Coricopat tensed more if that was even possible, watching the two women as they danced around him, never quite touching him but often coming close to doing so as they guided him a bit further onto the stage. Girddlebone looked past him to Bombalurina, one eyebrow arching under her mask to ask the other to guide their next move.

Bomba rolled one of her shoulders back, showing she was unsure before glancing back to Mistoffelees and arching a brow. The smaller man paused a moment, before stepping forward again.

Coricopat didn't see him move, and missed the exchange. He'd relaxed almost imperceptibly when they hadn't touched him, though he rocked back away from contact from Griddlebone when the blond came fractionally closer than the two dancers had been initially.

Grids glanced between Mistoffelees and Bomba, locking eyes with the other woman and nodding toward the side of the stage, indicating that it was Mistoffelees' turn to try this one.

Still behind the other, Mistoffelees reached a hand out for his shoulder. As soon as Mistoffelees' hand made contact, Coricopat startled away as though he'd been burned, "Don't touch me!"

Starling back, Mistoffelees blinked.

The taller man's gaze darted frantically between the three before he shook his head, "I should not be here." With those words he turned and fled, maneuvering through the crowd as best he could while avoiding as much contact as possible. He handed the mask to the doorman and retreated to the bottom of the stairs. He hesitated, it would be best to wait for Macavity, but he couldn't stay there.

Macavity blinked at the sound, tensing when he saw who was at the middle of it. "Is there a problem?" the man he was talking to asked.

"Not at all," Macavity replied, turning back to him. "Now, I believe we were discussing payments?" He would deal with whatever just happened much later.

o-o-o-o

Several hours later, Mistoffelees left the green room, carrying his shoes and buttoning up the last few on his shirt collar.

Griddlebone was pulling on her coat and straightening her skirt. She glanced toward the young man, "Hey Misto. Looks like you had some luck?"

"Luck, yes," he said, making a face.

The dancer offered him a sympathetic smile, "How bad?"

"Bad," he said with a small shrug. "You think we can ban him from the club ever again? Except then I think Jones would just invite him into the VIP."

"We don't have a say in who's in or not, and if he's willing to pay you know he won't be banned," she sighed.

"Great," he said and shrugged. "Oh well. He wasn't as bad as that one guy from last year."

"I'm not sure anyone can be as bad as that one."

"I certainly hope not," he said, leaning against the wall to pull his shoes back on.

"You figured out a way out of this yet?"

"No," he said, attempting to smooth his hair back down.

Grids dug in her purse for a moment, finally locating a brush and offering it to him, "Well, something's gotta give."

"You remember who you work for, right?" he offered, taking the brush.

"Oh I am well aware," she sighed, leaning back against the wall. "A girl can dream, can't she?"

"Yeah, but it gets you nowhere, does it?" he said, handing back the brush.

"You have grown more and more bitter the longer I've known you. I'm still expecting a day when someone can afford to buy me off of Jones," she ran the brush over her black hair and then returned it to her purse.

"Yeah, but think about how often that's actually happened," Mistoffelees returned.

Grids looked him straight in the eye, "I know it's a long shot, but I don't plan to let go of what little hope I have. If I do that I risk becoming a broken shell, and I refuse to do that."

He gave her a long look, the mask dangling from one hand. "You mean like me?"

"That was not what I said."

"Not technically," he replied.

Just then, Bustopher Jones turned the corner, scowl on his face.

Grids had opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut, drawing back slightly at the sight of Jones.

"Un-sir," Mistoffelees said, softly.

"You scared away a client today," Jones said, giving him a long look.

"He was already leaving," Mistoffelees protested.

Griddlebone glanced between them, trying to form a defense for Mistoffelees and get up the courage to actually speak it. "The man was poised to leave when he came in," she finally murmured.

Jones gave them both a long look, turning back to Mistoffelees. "Be sure to never do it again."

"Of course sir," Mistoffelees said, dropping his gaze, mask held up against his chest as if it could be used as a shield.

The dancer hesitated, knowing anything else she said would likely only make the situation worse.

With another huff, Jones continued down the hall, leaving his nephew looking like he wanted to do nothing more than sink into the wall. Finally, Mistoffelees looked up at Griddlebone, offering her a strained smile.

Grids returned the smile weakly, "I'm sorry. We tried, we all did. I shouldn't have pointed him out."

"It's hardly your fault," Mistoffelees said with a small shrug. "Are you going back out onto the floor at all?"

"I was rather planning to head out for drinks. I'm done with my shift. Why?"

"Just wondering," he said with a small shrug, lifting the mask back up. "Don't feel much like sleeping."

"Are you going back out on the floor? You could always join me at some other location where no one would recognize you for a while rather than deal with the customers any longer."

"Thanks, but," he shook his head, looking after where his uncle disappeared.

Chapter Text

Coricopat glanced at the clock for the tenth time in the past hour. He sighed, finally pushing the papers aside. His sleep the night before had been fitful at best-memories entwined with images of masks and the sound of techno music keeping his dreaming periods restless as well. Rising, he retreated to his bedroom and changed into a similar outfit to what he'd worn the night before, without the tie this time. Steeling himself, he left headed for the club. Hopefully this would solve the problem he'd had the night before.

The club looked much the same, masked patrons standing around and drinking, chatting with each other and comfortable in the black light with the pounding music. The dj from the night before was talking to the two dancers again, working out a plan for the evening.

Coricopat slunk into the club, taking a drink from one of the servers and moved to the edge of the room. His gaze swept around even as he avoided too much contact. Mistoffelees tensed when he glanced toward the door, Bomba following his gaze. "So, how angry was Jones again when he ran out?"

"Very," Mistoffelees said.

The red head gave him a long look. "Please tell me you aren't going to try again with him."

Grids followed their gazes, shaking her head, "If it goes down wrong, Misto he'll have your hide."

"And if it goes right I'd be in his graces for a whole week," Mistoffelees returned. "Which would be a nice change."

"It would, but is it worth that risk?" The dark-haired dancer glanced between Mistoffelees and Bombalurina before focusing on Mistoffelees.

He sighed. "Probably not. Either way, I'll wait to see what he does. Back out, you two, the music's about to change."

Griddlebone gave him a long look but nodded, heading for the stage area. Bombalurina trailed after her, flowing easily enough into the music when the song changed right on cue, only hoping Mistoffelees wouldn't make a fool of himself in any way.

The dj watched the dancers, mingling with the crowd that stood nearby, and when an old costumer approached, he allowed the elderly man to flirt, acting like it was convincing.

Coricopat watched the dancers briefly, before his gaze trailed to the dj again, remaining fixed on him. Mistoffelees could feel his laugh getting more strained as he felt the eyes on him. Finally, he lifted his head and turned to the other man, stance questioning though he didn't move one way or another.

The taller man looked away at that, only then realizing he'd been all but staring. He shouldn't be there. He knew that before he came, but he was there now.

Shaking his head, Mistoffelees went back to what his job was, laughing at jokes that weren't funny, and leaning slightly in closer than would be decent. Coricopat watched him for a moment before turning his attention, partially, back to the dancers.

After a while, Mistoffelees got fed up with the entire thing and slipped through the crowd. "You came back."

The other man startled slightly, "Yes. I did."

"You didn't seem to enjoy yourself last night," Mistoffelees remarked, plucking a drink from a waitress with a tray walking by and handing it out.

"I didn't not enjoy myself necessarily either," came the response as Coricopat sipped at his own drink.

That startled a laugh from Mistoffelees. "That's a roundabout way of saying something. Do you always talk like that?"

"It depends on how many papers I've been grading recently."

Mistoffelees' brows shot up behind the mask. "Grading papers?" he asked, stumbling. That was unusual for the type of people who came to the club, and certainly unusual for who usually got caught up by him. But he supposed that explained the awkwardness.

"That is what I said," Coricopat nodded, eying the smaller man.

"Do, do you enjoy your work then?"

"I do, it can be moderately rewarding. Though tiring."

The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth twisted, trying not to think about rewarding and tiring work. "Of course. Why'd you come back here then?"

"I needed to get out again. And I...don't really know."

"Really?" Mistoffelees asked, as if disbelieving that. "And you came back here?" Even as he spoke, he'd been leaning slightly closer.

Coricopat shrugged a shoulder, not quite drawing away, "It may not have been my best decision, but...here I am."

"Here you are," Mistoffelees said, mouth twisting slightly. "What do you desire to do here then?"

"I desire nothing," the taller replied softly.

"No one comes here that desires that," Mistoffelees replied, aware there were probably much more lucrative clients he could be dealing with.

"I know not what I desire, then," he answered, tensing very slightly.

"No ideas at all?" Mistoffelees titled his head up at him.

"I slept ill last night. Perhaps returning here will aid that."

"I wonder how," Mistoffelees said, with a smirk. "This is the place of dreams and fantasies after all, more like to plague one's sleep than to help it."

"It seems best to face that which kept one's sleep ill than flee it."

"What, specifically, hindered your sleep?" Mistoffelees asked, having subtly inched close enough to almost be pressed against the other's body.

"I'm not certain it was any specific thing," Coricopat answered, leaning away very slightly when he realized how near the other was.

Trying not to scowl or sigh, the shorter man leaned back. "Then good luck on sleeping tonight," he said, taking a step back. He was not going to press his luck again.

The taller man straightened, resisting the urge to reach out and stop the other, "I..." He shook his head and fell silent.

"You?" the dark haired man asked, his frustration leaking out as he reached a hand up to shove back his thick hair from his face.

"I...fear it may have been the dance. But I don't know for certain."

"You didn't dance last night," Mistoffelees returned, tilting his head. "The song is almost over though, and a new one will start soon."

"No, I didn't. I'm not certain a dance will aid this in the least," he responded.

"Then what will?" Mistoffelees asked with a tilt of his head, as he made his way back up toward the stage area.

"I know not," Coricopat replied, quietly, starting to follow the other without realizing it.

Once at the stage, Mistoffelees nodded to Bomba, who moved toward the angular man as Mistoffelees headed for Griddlebone. Grids watched Mistoffelees approach, arching a brow, "Trying again?"

He shook his head slightly. "Maybe. I don't know. I'm starting to sound as confused as he is."

"Well, what's the plan tonight, then?"

"We'll see as we go," he replied as the music switched and he held his hands up to lead her through at least part of the dance, Bombalurina holding her hands out to the stranger.

Coricopat considered the red-haired woman before taking her hands and starting into the dance. Taking Mistoffelees' hands, Grids offered him a smile, "Well, good luck whatever happens."

"I'll probably need it," he murmured, offering her a smile before losing himself, for a moment, in the dance. It was an abbreviated form of the tango, one he'd always loved.

Bomba glanced the new comer over. "What are you here for?" she asked, softly.

"What is it with you people and that question?" He answered.

"It is sort of our profession," she replied. "Find out what people want and how to give it to them. And I know you don't want me."

"Then why ask me, if you know it's not you?"

"Because I am curious as to what it is," she said.

"Well, I will tell you the same as I told him, I don't know what I am here for."

"You might want to figure it out," she said, whirling him suddenly in a turn, at the same time Griddlebone completed the same move with Mistoffelees. The two women met up at the top of the stage, continuing the tango dance, leaving Mistoffelees and Coricopat facing each other.

Coricopat froze, not entirely certain he wanted the other as close as the dance would require. Instead he waited a moment to see what the other would do tonight. Hesitating, Mistoffelees held his hands out, into the follow position of the dance.

After another moment, the taller man finally stepped into the lead's position, caught the rhythm of the music and swept Mistoffelees into the tango. The shorter man tried just to focus on the dance, and not the partner. He knew these moves, yet it took all his concentration to not stumble over the steps.

Coricopat focused as much as he could on the dance and not what it felt like to have someone in his arms again. As the song ended he dipped the smaller man back, his breath catching as memories from his past and emotions from the current situation twined around each other and left his mind in a state of confusion.

Mistoffelees swallowed hard, mouth falling open. "A-and have you found what you were looking for yet?"

Setting the other back on his feet, he shook his head, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Mistoffelees replied, feeling his stomach twist. "Still?"

"Yes, still," Coricopat stepped back. "I fear I'm more confused now than I was before."

It took all his willpower for Mistoffelees to not roll his eyes under his mask. "Then how will you find it?"

"I know not. But it won't be found tonight."

"Then why did you come?" Mistoffelees asked, free hand raking through his hair again.

"Because I hoped it would be."

Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes, glad that Bomba and Grids were still dancing in front of them so they weren't quite as obvious to the rest of the club. Coricopat's jaw tensed, "What would you have me say?"

"Why would I know the answer to your question?" Mistoffelees returned.

Shaking his head, the taller man turned away, "You wouldn't. I have to go."

"Who would I be to disagree?" Mistoffelees murmured, voice almost lost under the music. The other paused and glanced back at him before shaking his head and retreating.

For a moment Mistoffelees stared after him, jaw working.

Grids and Bomba came to the end of their dance, the shorter of the two women glancing back at Mistoffelees, her eyes widening behind the mask she wore. "It didn't work," she murmured to her dance partner.

Bomba shook her head, having tracked Coricopat's departure. She leaned back toward Mistoffelees. "Your uncle wasn't here," she murmured into his ear. "Find someone else and he won't know."

The smaller man nodded quickly.

"And don't risk that again, unless you know he'll stay," Grids spoke quietly.

"I wasn't planning on trying again," he replied, slipping from the stage.

Griddlebone looked at Bomba, "How likely is he to remember that if that man comes in again?"

"No idea," Bomba remarked, shaking her head. "I hope likely. Teazer's supposed to be in the next few days, isn't she?"

Grids sighed and nodded, "Yeah, she's due in tomorrow night for a week or two I think."

"Good," Bomba replied, lifting a hand as the next dance started. "Ready to fill the veins of these old, pompous men with lust?"

Smirking, the smaller woman took her friend's hand, "Always."

o-o-o-o

The next afternoon, Macavity knocked on Coricopat's door, lounging against the doorframe.

Coricopat hauled himself up from his desk and made his way over, opening the door, "Mac? What do you need?"

His friend blinked. "Well, I brought a bottle of alcohol to make up for the other night. You looked like a damned mess."

"The...oh, right. Come on in then."

Stepping inside, Macavity looked over him. "What's the matter? You're looking honestly disheveled."

"Haven't been sleeping well the past couple of nights. I'm doing alright though."

"You're not sleeping well," Macavity repeated. "That usually means something drastic. So, wanted to talk to you about that club. You left in a hurry."

"I told you repeatedly I thought it was a bad idea to be there in the first place," Coricopat responded, testily.

"Yeah, not convincing me in the least," Macavity replied. "It was a drastic exit. Whole place noticed it and honestly I don't want to think what trouble that boy got into that night with Jones."

The other man's expression shifted to one of concern, "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just...going was a mistake."

"Why was it such a damned mistake?"

"I'm still dealing with too much. And the entire bloody place is built on the idea of desire. I'm sick of desire, it leads to nothing be pain and destruction."

"You have to let go of that eventually," Macavity rolled his eyes.

"And maybe I'm not ready to do so yet."

"It's been a year and a half."

"So, what? I should toss it aside because it's been that long?"

"Yeah," Macavity agreed, nodding. "Look, whatever, are you going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Coricopat sighed, sinking down on the couch.

"Well," Macavity sat down on the far end, handing over the bottle of whiskey. "Any ideas?"

Accepting the bottle of whiskey, his friend shook his head, "At the moment I don't think so. I mean...I don't know what it would take."

"What do you think it would take?"

"I don't know! That's the problem. I..." He reached into the cupboard next to the couch and pulled out a couple of glasses, pouring one for himself, "I went back last night."

"Why?" Macavity asked, eyes widening. "Why'd you do a thing like that?"

"I wasn't thinking. I couldn't focus on anything, for some reason I thought it might help."

"And let me guess, it didn't? God, Cor, what is it supposed to help?"

"I don't know, alright?" the thin man snapped.

Macavity rolled his eyes. "Well, what are some of the symptoms then?"

"Confusion, distraction, I can't sleep. It seemed to clear up for a while at the club, but not for long."

"You sure you're not just supposed to have sex?"

Coricopat gaped at him, "Seriously?"

"You sound like a teenager discovering sex," Macavity said with a roll of his shoulders.

"Mac, I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Why the hell not? You desire someone, you sleep with them and then move on." And hopefully never go back. Honestly, Macavity just wanted his friend to get whatever out of his system so he could avoid Jones and his establishment ever again.

"That doesn't work for me, Mac. Things get complicated then. And getting attached to someone there would be a mistake."

"Then don't go back."

Coricopat drew a shaky breath, "It's already complicated."

"Then stay in tonight," Macavity said, lifting a glass toward him. "And drink yourself to sleep. Should work."

"I don't know...maybe you're right. Maybe I just need to get it out of my system."

"Well," Macavity patted Coricopat's knee. "I only had a few minutes to check in. Lots of business to see to."

"Thanks," Coricopat murmured. "I'll let you know how it goes. Whatever I decide."

"Yeah, either way, good luck," Macavity said, heading for the door.

"Yeah, good luck with your work tonight."

The taller man chuckled at that, closing the door behind him.

Coricopat looked at the clock, sighing. He already knew where he was going to be that evening, whether it was a good idea or not.

o-o-o-o

Mistoffelees looked around the club as the evening started. Few guests were there yet, and he looked back over the music selection for that night. Usually he knew exactly what was supposed to play and when, but that night he felt like something was entirely off.

Lifting a hand, he adjusted the mask he was wearing. For the most part it was still a simple white mask, with a line of music sheet paper over one eye and black trim on either side of the strip. The black light caught the black trim and highlighted it compared to the rest of the white.

Grids approached him, dressed for her first number, the white contrasting elegantly with her dark hair and tan skin, "Hey, Teazer just got here. Everything looking alright so far for you?"

"Certainly," Mistoffelees nodded.

"Jones isn't due in until late tonight, is he?"

"No," he replied. "Thankfully. He had business elsewhere, but plenty of his lackeys are here to tell him if anyone screws up."

"Of course they are. We'll make sure everything goes well, alright?"

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod. "It'll be fine."

Her gaze moved to the clock, "I'd better go see if Bomba's ready for the first dance."

He nodded, sending her off.

Chapter Text

Coricopat entered the club about an hour and a half after it opened, he'd shed the vest from the night before and was wearing a simple button-up shirt and a pair of slacks. His gaze moved around the club and he accepted a drink from one of the girls. Feeling far more relaxed than he had in a couple of days, he moved over to lean against one of the walls.

Mistoffelees glanced up from his position near the front of the room, eyes widening and swallowing hard. "Tonight we have a surprise," he said, past his dry throat. "A special dancer from far away."

Griddlebone followed Mistoffelees' gaze and her eyes narrowed very slightly, but she ducked backstage to make certain Teazer was ready for her entrance. "A dancer just for your pleasure, Rumpleteazer," Mistoffelees declared, stepping to one side of the stage, arms out to welcome the other dancer.

A willowy young woman, her red-hair pulled up and back into a glittering comb stepped onto the floor, a long veil-like shawl wrapped around her arms and giving her the appearance of wings. She moved gracefully and sensuously through the dance, her eyes sweeping over the crowd from behind her feathered mask.

Mistoffelees tried to pay attention to her, but his attention kept straying to where Coricopat was. Coricopat watched the dancer absently, though his expression didn't change. His gaze moved to where the dj stood and remained there after a while.

Rumpleteazer spotted the angular man and she turned, making the move a part of her dance, to track where his gaze was. Her brows rose when she saw Mistoffelees, considering what she might do.

When Mistoffelees realized the other man was watching him, he dropped his gaze, moving to the other side of the stage.

Sensing that the moment was breaking, Teazer swept into the last movement of her dance, reaching a hand out to Coricopat. The brunet blinked at her, but took her hand, allowing her to pull him onto the stage before she swept away and looped the veil off of her shoulders and around Mistoffelees', "I've set your stage, and you know this dance. Now give him what he desires."

Mistoffelees' eyes went huge at that moment, looking at the veil half held in his hands, freezing for three more beats of the song. Finally, swallowing hard he moved through the first few steps of the dance, not daring to look at Coricopat.

Coricopat watched him for a moment, tracking his movements. While watching the previous dancer he had noticed a step where a partner could come in and he watched for it. When it came he stepped forward, capturing Mistoffelees' hands loosely, and let the other lead as he wished.

Eyes widening, Mistoffelees froze again for another beat before continuing the dance, the veil slipping from his shoulders. Sweeping through the dance, Coricopat kept his eyes focused on the smaller man's face, trying to phrase what he was thinking.

"Are you going to run again?" Mistoffelees asked past a dry throat.

"No. I have found that which I desire."

"What is it?" the shorter man managed.

"You," came the quiet response, almost too quiet to be heard over the music.

Mistoffelees froze again, the last few beats of the music passing with no movement.

Coricopat hesitated a moment before straightening the veil around the other's shoulders, a hand brushing Mistoffelees' jawline accidentally as he drew back. Mistoffelees stepped back, pulling something from his pocket and leaving it in Coricopat's hand. "If you're sure..."

Coricopat glanced down, opening his hand to see the object, "I am."

Mistoffelees tried to remember he was breathing. "It's the key to the purple room," he murmured. "If you are. It's that way," he said, pointing subtly.

The taller man inclined his head, "I will meet you there." With those words he stepped off the stage area, quietly weaving his way through the crowd to one of the walls where he could make his way in the direction Mistoffelees had indicated with less attention.

Watching him go, Mistoffelees weaved around the room, stopping every once and a while to say something, making sure Teazer was holding everyone's attention and that he could go. The crowd's attention was on the current performer and not on the small, dark-haired man.

Coricopat reached the room and slid the key into the lock. He hesitated, was he honestly thinking of doing this? Drawing a deep breath he opened the door. If he backed out now he'd curse himself from here til doomsday for it.

Minutes later, Mistoffelees slipped into the room, closing the door and leaning his back against it.

The taller man turned to face him, looking a bit uncertain but he had in fact come, which said a good deal. "So you're... not running away," Mistoffelees managed. It was the first time he'd actually seen the other outside of black light.

"No. I've done too much of that," Coricopat murmured, appreciating the other's appearance in the better lighting: his coloring was clearer and less ethereal-more human-but still exquisite.

He was never this nervous around people. "So, what are you doing then?" he asked, tilting his head but not leaving the door.

"I'm coming to terms with a change in desire. With finding desire once again."

Finally, the smaller man stepped forward, coming to a stop in front of the taller man, eyes on his collarbone. Slowly, he raised them to meet Coricopat's-realizing the other's eyes were grey. "What do you desire?" he asked, the same old line he'd used countless times and had never been as curious as he currently was.

It was force of will that kept Coricopat's hands at his sides, "There are so many answers to that question I don't know which to choose. I desire to lay ghosts to rest. I desire to move on with my life. I desire to find peace and joy. I desired to see you in light, not darkness. And I desire you."

"That's a lot to desire from-" he barely managed to cut his statement off.

"From?" Coricopat pressed lightly.

"From, well," Mistoffelees held his teeth together a moment. "Me. Or, rather, a whore."

"I'm not asking it all from you. That would be too much to presume of someone I know not."

"Then what do you desire?" Mistoffelees asked, still keeping the other's eyes through the two masks. "From me."

Coricopat kept his gaze locked on the hazel eyes of the younger man, "I desire to lay ghosts to rest, and I desire you to lead this night."

"I," Mistoffelees' eyes went huge and he almost drew back, dropping his eyes rather abruptly. "I don't lead. I'm not supposed to."

The taller man's hand came to gently rest on the other's jaw, tilting his chin up, "And if I give you permission? To do as you desire?"

Leaning slightly into the touch, Mistoffelees kept his eyes dropped. "Not sure I'd know how anymore," he said and wished he could have kept his mouth shut. Before he said anything else stupid he brought his hands up to rest on Coricopat's waist, remembering how quickly the other had drawn back a few nights ago.

"I'm not certain I even know your name," Coricopat murmured, stiffening very slightly, but not drawing away.

"I don't know yours," Mistoffelees said, leaning up and kissing the other quickly before he could continue the line of thought about names.

The other resisted leaning into the kiss and drew back slightly, "Cori. May I have a name by which to call you?"

Mistoffelees scowled when he drew back. "Does it matter?"

Coricopat sighed, finally shaking his head, "Maybe not. It's just between the mask and the complete lack of address I'm at sea."

Mistoffelees' mouth thinned for a moment. "Don't worry. The point is to distract you from things like that."

That earned a long look, "You underestimate my tendency for details."

"You're underestimating me," Mistoffelees returned, slipping forward to press the line of his body against Coricopat, fingers curling along the back of his belt.

Coricopat sucked in a breath at that, "You..."

The dark haired man shifted up to press a soft, open mouthed kiss against Coricopat's mouth, before dragging it to his jawline and down toward his collarbone. Tilting his head back to allow the smaller man better access, the brunet drew a shaky breath, his arms curling around him and drawing him a bit closer.

Mistoffelees swallowed down his reaction to that, hands hooking underneath Coricopat's waistband and the other one sneaking up under his shirt. Coricopat drew a sharp breath at that, one of his hands moving to the smaller man's hip, "Y-you never did give any indication of what you might desire."

"How do you mean?" Mistoffelees asked, playing close attention to Coricopat's left ear.

The taller man could feel his concentration breaking, "I mean...you ask everyone else what they d-desire. What is it y-you do?"

"Who says I have any desires?" Mistoffelees asked, using all his concentration to remain nuzzling against the taller man's neck.

"Y-you're human aren't you?"

"What if I say no?" Mistoffelees teased.

Coricopat chuckled at that, "Then I would ask what you are."

"A creature of the night, dedicated to music and pleasure," Mistoffelees replied, the bitterness not even evident in his tone.

That earned a long silence and Coricopat shook his head, "And yet so human. Hardly a 'creature'."

Mistoffelees closed his eyes for a moment. "You'd be surprised."

Coricopat's hand came up to trace the edge of the mask gently, "Well, if you are to lead tonight shall I fall silent and let you lead then?"

The smaller man swallowed. "Still not sure I want to lead," he murmured, trying not to flinch back from the touch around his mask.

Sensing that somewhat, the taller drew his hand back, "Well then I fear we're at an impasse because I'm not certain I know how to any longer."

Part of the black haired man was still waiting for this to turn into a joke, or a trap from his uncle. "Well," he said, softly. "I think it involves substantially less clothes either way."

That earned a faint smile, "I do believe it would, yes." Coricopat hesitated, his hands coming up to the knot of the other's tie, gently loosening it and untying it.

Mistoffelees tried not to roll his eyes. "You're not really used to this, are you?"

"I told you as much, didn't I?"

"Still," Mistoffelees said, pulling his own tie off from where Coricopat had untied it and tossing it to the side carelessly. He finished pulling Coricopat's shirt out of his belt, moving down the buttons quickly.

Coricopat shook his head slightly, but pushed the other slightly toward the lavish bed. To distract himself from that motion, Mistoffelees leaned up into a hard kiss. The taller man returned the kiss, trailing a hand down Mistoffelees' spine. The smaller man shuddered at that motion.

Guiding the other back slowly until his legs hit the bed, Coricopat leaned forward to murmur in the courtesan's ear, "If you won't lead, then let me."

"Okay," Mistoffelees said, a little breathless and dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed, looking back up at the taller man.

Coricopat started to languidly undo the buttons of Mistoffelees' shirt, leaning down to place a nipping kiss on his collar bone and trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen as he undid the buttons. Retracing the motion he slid the shirt from the other's shoulders and gently nudged him back on the bed.

Eyes still a bit wide and looking like on some levels he was still really unsure what to do with all this, Mistoffelees leaned back, hooking his fingers in Coricopat's hair and pulling him with him. Going with the motion, Coricopat shrugged out of his shirt, leaning down to capture the other's mouth again, his long fingers ghosting down Mistoffelees' side.

Squirming into the touch, Mistoffelees bit lightly at that taller man's bottom lip. That action earned a quiet sound in the back of Coricopat's throat before he drew back enough to nip at the other's jaw, his hand trailing to the smaller man's waist band.

Mistoffelees made a soft sound at that, tilting his hips up into the touch.

The rest of the touches remained like that through the night, soft and kind with the hard edge of desire in them and more than anything that made Mistoffelees feel lost and unsure.

Sometime later Mistoffelees turned his head toward the clock, blinking at it in some surprise. More time had passed then he'd been expecting and honestly wanted to hit himself for it.

Coricopat lay next to him, but he propped himself up to look at that clock and then at the smaller man. Even after the fact he wasn't certain it had been his best plan, and he was certain to be out a good deal for it. He really couldn't bring himself to care at that moment though.

Biting the inside of his lip in an attempt not to show how worried he was, Mistoffelees glanced back toward the other, pulling off a smile. "Find what you wanted?"

"I think so." He paused for a long moment, hating to have to ask, but knowing it needed to be, "How much is owed?"

The smaller man paused a long moment and shook his head, the motion tiny but firm. The other's brows rose, "Come again?"

"You owe nothing," Mistoffelees said, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed, looking everywhere in the room except the other man in it.

Coricopat sat up fully, blinking in confusion, "What? I... You're sure?"

"Sure," Mistoffelees said, tone idle as he found his pants and started pulling them on.

The taller man got up, getting dressed, still confused, "I still don't even know your name."

"You're not supposed to," Mistoffelees said, looking down and paying very close attention to his clothes.

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "Very well." He finished getting dressed, his hands shaking very slightly as he finished buttoning his shirt.

Mistoffelees finally looked back at him, reaching forward to adjust Corciopat's shirt for him and stopping when he realized what he did. Coricopat caught his hand before he could draw it back, squeezing it slightly. He released him and tied the other's tie for him, almost absently, "Thank you."

"For?" Mistoffelees said, expression crumpling slightly at that.

"Doing what you could for me. And letting me lead. Not having me lead, but letting me lead."

"You'll do fine for yourself," Mistoffelees said, not daring to meet his eyes. "I barely did a thing."

"You reminded me that I was capable of feeling. Of desiring."

"Everyone is," Mistoffelees murmured. "But you're welcome for that." Now go find someone to actually settle down with, he added to himself, not quite daring to say it.

Coricopat hesitated before nodding. He touched his brow in a sort of salute and headed for the door. The smaller man swallowed, watching him go before compulsively leaning down to start adjusting his tie.

o-o-o-o

A while after Coricopat left, Mistoffelees moved around the room, setting it to rights and putting pieces back together. There were servants to deal with actual clean up, but his hands were shaking and that could not be allowed. Finally, he moved out into the hallway, looking either way and dropping his key back into his pocket.

Griddlebone was leaning against the wall outside her own room, "You were in there a while."

"The clock stopped when he left," Mistoffelees replied, somewhat defensively.

"And when did he leave?" Grids' brow arched, nodding to her room for the semblance of privacy if he wanted.

"Twenty minutes ago?" Mistoffelees said and headed inside quickly.

The black haired woman followed him, "That was a long time..."

"I," he paused again, looking around. "I think that was all together a mistake."

She sat down on the foot of her bed, "What do you mean?"

"Him, letting him in, and certainly sleeping with him," Mistoffelees said, pacing the room, and tearing the mask off, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "But mostly, telling him he didn't have to pay for it."

"Well surely…" She broke off as his last sentence sunk in, "You what?"

"I can cover it," he said, hunching his shoulders.

"Why did you tell him that?"

"Because he's a damn teacher. Because he kept staring at me like I meant something and thanked me, and I have no new bruises to show for it, and he was kind and I am most certainly an idiot."

Griddlebone watched him for a long moment, "You...He...God, Misto."

"God?" he asked, not quite near panic but closer than he had been in a while. "What, Grids? What are you thinking? Please tell me it's something I'm not."

She held out a hand to him, "What are you thinking?"

"That I'm an idiot. That I forgot there's another life out there and he threw it in my face. I thought I stomped that little spark of hope out and it's still there."

"You need to make certain this is the only time you see him. You realize that, right?"

"I'm fairly certain he couldn't have afforded tonight, if he had been thinking about it, and I certainly could never pay for it again," he replied, looking down.

"That doesn't answer me," she spoke softly.

"Yes it does," he murmured. "I realize I can't see him again. It would be just about impossible anyway."

"Will you be able to handle other customers?" she asked when he didn't look at her.

"What do you mean?" Mistoffelees asked. "Tonight?"

"No. I mean tomorrow night."

"Course I will," he murmured, swallowing.

Grids sighed, "Let me help, even if it's just a listening ear after the fact, alright?"

"Please," he said, smile strained. "I've been doing this for years. One man is hardly going to throw me off entirely."

"You've never offered to pay for a client before," she returned, not meaning for it to be unkind.

"No one's come back three nights either," Mistoffelees said. "Or been so kind. But that doesn't mean I'll suddenly be unable to do my job."

"I'm not necessarily saying you won't. I'm saying I'm here for support if you need it."

"Thank you," he said, sliding onto the bed next to her and pressing their sides together. "You know, you'd think I wouldn't like touch, after what I do all day."

"There's a difference in the way they touch us and how we wish to be touched," she responded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Thank you," he murmured, holding her hand loosely still. "But I'll be fine. I'm nothing if not professional."

"You'll make it. You're probably right about his ability to afford this."

"He won't be back," Mistoffelees murmured.

Grids had the presence of mind not to express her doubts about that.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat was in a far better mood the following day, actually in the kitchen rather than at his desk and seeing what he could scrounge up to make for a late lunch that wasn't a cold sandwich. He glanced up at a knock on the door, "If you have a key come on in."

"What happens when someone not me comes knocking?" Macavity asked, entering. "Besides, it's polite to open your own door." He paused at the site of a pale green mask on the coffee table.

"I'm up to my elbows in dough, I wasn't answering the door," came the reply from the kitchen.

"You're cooking?" Macavity asked, picking up the mask and turning it over. "Making enough for two?"

"There should be enough, yes. I was making it with the intent of leftovers, but I suppose I can forgo them. What brings you by?"

"Just coming by," Macavity said, still frowning at the mask. "Cor, how's your last few nights been?"

He shrugged, not registering the other couldn't see him, "Well enough. Why?"

"Just wonderin'. You're actin' like a well laid man," he said, entering the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe, the mask dangling from one hand, which he held up.

Coricopat glanced at him, pausing when he saw the mask. He shrugged, sliding a cookie sheet of biscuits into the oven and starting on some gravy, "And if I am?"

"Well," Macavity blinked, not quite having expected that response. "You went back?"

"Yes. I was taking your advice," came the reply as he stirred in some seasonings.

"You were…" the taller man blinked. "You took my advice? Which advice were you taking, going back to a place like that?" he asked, still leaning against the doorframe.

"Seeing if I could get him out of my system. Do you recall that conversation? Yesterday afternoon."

"I thought it had gotten out of your system," Macavity said. "I mean, okay, clearly I wasn't thinking straight because your reaction to gettin' him out of your system was to go and pay one of Jones' whores?"

Coricopat glanced at his friend, arching a brow, "Which him are we talking about now?"

"I have no idea," Macavity snapped. "So let's be entirely clear: the hell did you do last night?"

"What does it matter, Mac? I am an adult and if I choose to do something you may disagree with that is entirely within my rights."

"You're right, except for forgettin' who you were dealing with," Macavity said, crossing his arms over his wide chest and the mask still dangling from one. "Surprised you aren't in confessional after dealing with Jones and his ilk."

"I swore years ago never to set foot in another Catholic church. You know that," his friend spoke icily, his gaze focused on the saucepan.

Macavity barely managed not to roll his eyes. "Not my point. You were dealing with Jones, Cor."

"What's your point, Mac? You're hardly a paragon of virtue, and I seem to recall you having some dealings with him yourself not three nights past."

"That was collectin' protection money," the red head retorted. "It was taking his money, not giving him any money. Supportin' his business? Seems against your ethics Cor."

"And I suppose you know all about ethics. Mine included."

"I know better then to put people into slavery for their bodies," Macavity snapped. "I may be a thief and a gang lord and a whole host of other things but I ain't never enslaved someone, and especially not for that and not like him. His own fourteen year old nephew disappeared the moment Jones got a hold on him, and I mightn't wonder to his fate."

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "I'm aware of what he does, Mac. What can happen to them. I get that."

"But you supported it well enough in your lust, huh? I meant to get you out of the house, not mooning over some call boy."

"I'll admit that my lust led me back, but a desire to prove to him that he wasn't a 'creature of the night' and was in fact human and deserving of compassion made me stay," the angular professor's hand tightened around the spoon he held.

Raising a hand, Macavity ran it over his face. "So you did sleep with him. Do you happen to know his name?"

"He refused to give it. Several times."

The redhead blinked again, raising his arms as if in defeat or prayer. "So you have no idea his name, or what he actually wanted or anything, and you're claiming you treated him as anything other then a whore. How'd much he cost, anyway?"

"I don't know." Coricopat shook his head, "He didn't let me pay for it."

That stopped the other short. "He what?"

"I'm certain you heard me. He did not let me pay for it," Coricopat spoke each word carefully, enunciating each syllable.

The red head gave him another long, slow blink. "Wonder what he had to pay for himself then," he said, not quite as slowly but carefully enunciated.

"I…Mac, look, I have in fact been round and round with myself about this and I don't need you lecturing me about it as well, thank you."

"You apparently don't understand Jones all that well," his friend said, shaking his head slightly and dropping the mask on the counter. "What are you going to do then? Did you actually get him out of your head?"

"I don't know. Somewhat, I think, yes. I've done what I was able, whether it works or not. I," he sighed, "enlighten me if you're so concerned. Or leave me be. Your choice."

"Well, considering the likelihood of you listenin' to a damn thing I say, I've said my bit. The man's a creep, even by my standards, and as far as I can tell all his entertainers are his slaves. So either walk damn careful or never go back."

Coricopat turned to look at his friend, leaning his hip against the counter, "I'll try to avoid any fatal doses of stupidity, alright? It's all I can promise."

"No it ain't, but I suppose that's what I'll have to take," Macavity huffed.

"It is if I intend to keep said promise." The brunet shut off the timer and pulled the biscuits out of the oven, "You still want food or do you have somewhere to be?"

"I'm suddenly not hungry anymore," the taller man said, stepping back from the counter. "I'll see you around, so long as you're not offed by anyone."

Suppressing an eye roll, Coricopat nodded, "I'll see you around. Stay safe."

"I'm not the one being stupid," Macavity muttered, heading for the door. "Watch your back, Cor."

As the door closed behind Macavity, the other man sighed and shifted the food into containers to put in the fridge. His appetite hadn't been especially present to begin with, but had also faded during the course of the conversation—not that he would have admitted that to his friend.

Chapter Text

Later that night, Macavity stepped into Jones' club, the sound of the beating music washing over him like a wave. He'd barely glanced at the mask the doorman had handed to him, simply snapping it on. For a long moment he considered the room as a whole, recognizing far too many clients that he would really rather not. Turning his eyes to the once again simply dressed dj, he watched the small man's movements for several songs, finally only taking his eyes away when the younger man seemed to attach himself to a far older, and more rotund man. That, Macavity just had no real desire to see.

Slinking up toward the stage, he considered the three dancers, picking out the blonde in particular, who he flagged when the music ended and the dancers moved toward the crowd.

Griddlebone, her attention on the crowd for likely clients, spotted him after a brief moment of considering Mistoffelees' latest customer. She sashayed over, a seductive smirk on her features, "Yes, sir? What is it you desire?"

"Is that your tag line here?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. "And if so, and I reply with you, how much exactly is that gonna put me out?"

Curling around him a bit, the dancer's brow arched, "Well, that all depends on how you desire to have me, sir."

He laughed at that, the sound low and intimate despite the loud music of the place. "I'm certainly not the one who names the price here, and as much as I dislike the idea of lining Jones' pocket with the cash I just took from him, I can hardly think of a more lovely thing to spend it on."

"Well, sir, time is money as I'm sure you're aware. So the longer the time you wish, the higher the price will be," she traced around the collar of his shirt. Drawing a key out of a hidden pocket in her skirt she smirked at him, "But I don't make it a business to talk of such things so publicly. If you don't mind of course? A discussion of price costs you nothing."

"I'll gladly follow if you point the way," he smirked. "But as a point of interest, how do your rates compare to say, his," Macavity said, completely crashing the mood most like but he wanted information on the mystery dj, not a lay with someone acting.

Griddlebone's smile grew faintly brittle around the edges but quickly smoothed out again, "He doesn't come cheap. He's the most expensive, but quite experienced as well. Still young as well."

"Well, not my type anyway," Macavity murmured, filing that away under, red, panic, and offering her another grin. "I was simply curious."

The woman smirked up at him, "Well, in that case, if I'm your type, shall we see about discussing this more privately?" She straightened, keeping her arm coiled around him.

"I would hardly be adverse," he replied thumb tracing her hipbone.

"Wonderful," Grids guided him through the crowd and down a curtained corridor, pausing in front of one of the doors on the hall long enough to unlock it and let them in.

Macavity looked around the room, arching a brow. "Nice, luxurious even."

"Only the best for those willing to pay," she answered him, turning to face him as she closed the door. "Now, as to prices…" Griddlebone rattled the times and costs off for him quickly, but just slowly enough for them to be heard.

That got an arched brow from the taller man, and he whistled low. "And the price of havin' you sit down on that there bed and talk for a while? Pretty like I'm sure."

The blonde blinked at him for a moment, "Come again?"

"I'll pay you your full rate, if you actually talk to me," he replied, looking her over. "If you noticed the fellow I walked in here the first night with?"

"Prices are based on time spent, not on acts performed, so the rate will be according to the time. If you mean the angular brunet, then yes, I noticed him. He was awkward enough it was hard not to."

"Yeah, well, been hearing some things. I'd like to know what actually happened last night, when he came back."

"He danced." She answered simply, sitting down on the foot of the bed.

"Yeah, think he did a bit more then that," Macavity said, pacing the foot of her bed for a moment before looking back at her. "Look, if he's gettin' himself into trouble, or in deep, I wanna know. He's my only friend in the world and he's not all that good with the actual not gettin' in too deep or fast or emotions or subtlety or safety thing. I just wanna know more."

Griddlebone considered him for a long moment, her green eyes narrowed behind her white and red mask, "So you thought it was a good idea to come in here and interrogate me about it? What makes you think I have the least idea about last night?"

"Cos I'm not blind. You and… whatever I should actually call him, never seemed to get a name, but anyway, you and him you're close. It's obvious when you're in the same space. You talk, you touch, you watch each other dance. Hell, you're not in love with your highest priced whore yourself are you?"

"Me? In love with M?" She gaped at him, "No. I'm not in love with him. He's more of a younger brother than anything. He needed someone to watch over him, and still does. As such, I will answer your questions. Within reason. If I think you are crossing a line with your questions I will stop answering you and you will leave, paying for the time that has already passed. Are we clear?"

That got a long blink from Macavity who nodded. "Fair. Now… what happened last night? Cor, I mean, my friend, was acting almost over the moon. He was cooking!"

"He and M did have sex, if that's what you mean. I hardly know what happened exactly. I just know that M took longer than usual and ended up in my room afterward with not a mark on him. Which you might thank your friend for from us."

It took a long moment for Macavity to figure out any way to possibly respond to that, mentally noting to himself that everything he believed about Jones and his harem had been spot on—at least so far as Jones treated his harem and allowed his clients to do the same. "I ever admit to this conversation I'll pass that right along. How'd you mean, took longer then usual though?"

Griddlebone removed her mask to rub her eyes, setting the sculpted leather aside, "I mean that we do our best to please the client while keeping them in the room for no longer than an hour, though the occasional client might require us for a bit longer. Even then we would much prefer not to deal with that length. Your friend was here headed on toward an hour and a half. And in M's private chambers to boot."

"His private room?" Macavity asked, a little taken aback by that. "Is that usual?"

"None of us take clients to our private rooms. That's where we live. It's a part of us that you all never see."

"So this ain't your private room then?" Macavity teased, using the almost tasteless joke to regroup his mind. "So," he said, starting to pace again and paused, eyes tracking over her face. "Wait, you took your mask off."

"No, this is my preferred entertaining room." She brushed a hand over the painted leather of her mask, nodding, "Of course I did. I can only wear leather over my face for so long. If you'd like I can put it back on. It usually depends on the client as to whether it's left on or not. Some prefer to not see our faces, it's easier to imagine someone else if we're faceless and nameless."

Macavity shrugged. "It's a pretty face. Just, I don't think I've heard of your M taking off his mask, client wishes or no."

"Clients who M takes are given fair warning that the mask remains in place. He never removes his without orders from the man in charge."

The red head scowled at that piece of information. "Great. So, likelihood of my only friend this side of town getting shot over all this?"

"High, if he continues to pursue it. But something tells me you knew that answer already."

"Yeah, already did," he agreed and paused for a minute, considering. Leaning down, he kissed her suddenly, slow and deep before drawing back. "Well, thanks for answerin' my questions, I really best be off, with a lighter pocket of course."

She blinked up at him for a moment, "Are you sure you're leaving with just questions answered? I mean, if that's what you'd prefer, of course by all means…"

"Yeah," he said, voice a bit low and almost at the door when he paused. "One last question. Your M, he didn't ask Cor to pay. So who paid for last night?"

"M did. With the savings he's accrued from what little Jones allows us to keep," she sighed. "Try to keep your friend away. For both their sakes."

The taller man nodded. "I'll try. Good luck to yourself too."

"Thank you, sir. Good night to you, and may the road you travel be smooth," she offered him a faint smile, picking up her mask to replace it.

He watched her replace the mask before leaving the room with a small shake of his head to himself.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat woke out of the fitful doze he had finally managed, glancing at his bedside clock. It was nearly three am. He reached over, fumbling with his lamp for a moment and finally getting it turned on as he sat up. Something had woken him this time and he wasn't entirely certain what. Sliding the drawer of his bedside table open quietly, he reached inside, his hand closing around the handle of the pistol he kept there.

His best friend, meanwhile, was blazing through the living room on the way to the bedroom. "Cor!" he called out, some warning but not much before slamming the door open."We need to talk."

The brunet shut the drawer, "Damn it, Mac. It's three am, I almost shot you."

"Yeah, but we gotta talk," the red head declared. "Because you just slept with the most expensive whore in the house in his own private bedroom."

"I…what? Mac, start over, my brain is not awake. You woke me up."

"You, and your whore. He's the most expensive in the whole harem," Macavity said, falling into his usual pacing mode. "Because he's so young and experienced, which ain't really words I want to be thinking of in the same brain space right now. But he entertained you in his very own chambers—where he lives. None of them do that."

"And you're worried because of it. So you couldn't wait three and a half hours until sunrise to tell me about it. Is there anything else I should be aware of?" Coricopat sighed, he wasn't getting back to sleep now so he might as well hear Mac out.

Macavity just shook his head. "You mean like the fact the priciest whore also paid for your almost two hours out of his own pocket?"

The brought the other fully awake, "Come again?"

"Remember when you didn't pay for it?" Macavity supplied, finally stopping his pacing. "He did."

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "God… Why would he do that? I mean, even disregarding the paying part. Why would he use his own chambers?"

"That's the thing, innit?" The taller man shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "The other courtesan I talked to, she sounded pretty damn worried about it all too. Said you needed to stay away for both your sakes at this point."

"I, God…I'll try." He paused for a moment, "Wait, 'courtesan'? Why the change in term?"

"There was a change in term?" Macavity asked, tilting his head. "Well, that's not the point. When whores start worrying about their own, you might consider it. And do I need to remind you again that it's Jones we're dealin' with here?"

"No, Mac, you don't need to remind me. I am aware of who we're dealing with as you have repeated it over and over again."

"Doesn't mean it got through that skull of yours."

"You went and talked to one of the other whores there?" Coricopat changed the subject.

That got a blink out of Macavity and he sank into the chair sitting in the room. "Yeah, I did. I wanted to know what was going on and I got a bit more than I think even I wanted to know. He was entertainin' someone else, by the way."

"It's his job, I can hardly say I'm surprised," the off-hand air that he was hoping for fell flat. "So you, what? Paid for her time and interrogated her? Little wonder you found out more than you bargained for."

"Well, yeah," Macavity shrugged. "Though less interrogation and more civil conversation."

"Did you talk about anything besides myself and the other courtesan?"

"Not much," Macavity said and managed not to shrug or roll his eyes. "Simply dealt with that and compensated her for her time. It could have been a 'he' I went after you know."

"Who would know as much as you came in here saying? That would be one of the dancers, is my guess. Which means the probability rested on it being a 'she.'"

That did get an eye roll from Macavity. "Alright, point. Yes, it was a she. That's not the point the point is apparently you aren't the only one having trouble here, and nor am I the only one worried about what the hell you're doing."

"I got that much, Mac. It's not as though I can actually afford to see him again, monetarily, temporally, or frankly even emotionally. It's an all-around bad idea."

"Good," the red head declared. "Then no one has anything to worry about."

o-o-o-o

The next night, Jones approached Mistoffelees as the shorter man was finishing his hair and considering whether any make up would be appropriate or not.

"You've been getting sloppy," his uncle said, handing him a black and white diamond patterned mask.

"It shan't happen again," Mistoffelees murmured, taking the mask with a small frown. "What's this for?"

"A client is coming in tonight. He is a dear business partner and has a type, so I want you to take care of him."

"Of course," Mistoffelees said, fingers curling around the edge of the mask.

For a moment Jones stared at him, before starting in a pretentious tone, "When your parents entrusted you to my keeping—"

"They never entrusted me to you," Mistoffelees snarled, whirling. "They died and I had nowhere else to go at fourteen. There was never any moments of entrusting me to you."

Jones raised a hand as if to strike at him and the youth tensed but didn't flinch. "You think that would scare me anymore?" Mistoffelees asked, voice low and meeting his uncle's eyes. "Afer what some of your clients have done to me? You think the threat of being hit anymore works?"

Slowly, Jones lowered his hand, keeping his nephew's eyes. "Please this man tonight and you may get some standing back. Screw this up, and we'll have to negotiate your contract again."

o-o-o-o

Shortly therefore, diamond mask firmly in place, Mistoffelees stepped onto the floor, Jones at his left shoulder. Steering the shorter youth, Bustopher Jones stopped in front of a slender, grey haired man. He could almost have been considered refined if found in any other place, Mistoffelees mused, as Jones and the client spoke together, of things he didn't understand and honestly shouldn't listen to. Though he understood well enough a night of his services was in exchange for whatever this man had done to help Jones in his underworld dealings.

Coricopat entered the club, his gaze flickering around. He hadn't gotten to sleep until just about five that morning, and had overslept. Upon waking he'd considered what Macavity had told him and determined that he needed to speak with Mistoffelees one last time, at least to ask for some sort of explanation. He had money set aside for no real purpose, and it should suffice for one night with, as Mac so tastefully put it, "the most expensive whore in the place." He paused when he spotted Mistoffelees, obviously being introduced to a client. Well, not tonight then. He would get a drink and stay for a dance or two, however, and then see about coming back a different night if need be. Mistoffelees' job or not, he felt a sting of something he recognized as impending jealousy prick him. This was perhaps one of the worst ideas he'd had in a long while.

Glancing around the club, Mistoffelees could feel his spine tense when he spotted the angular man, eyes widening behind the mask. His attention snapped back to the grey haired man when he spoke. "Am I not holding your attention?"

"Of course you are," Mistoffelees said, whipping his head back around to offer the man a smile. "I am simply considering the business of tonight."

"Old habits, hm?" the man asked with a condescending smile and Mistoffelees forced himself to return it.

"You could say that," he murmured.

The elder man glanced around the room before settling back on the courtesan as Jones moved off to leave the two. "I've heard interesting things about this place," he was saying."Would you dance for me?"

Mistoffelees blinked, glad for the black light and its ability to hide certain expressions. "In private?" he asked, leaning against the other man's side and trying not to think about where Coricopat was standing.

"No," the man replied."I would prefer for every person in this place to want you, knowing that tonight only I get you."

Repressing any expressions he wanted to give to that, Mistoffelees tilted his head. "In another minute or two, there should be an appropriate song for something like that," he murmured, not actually liking the idea at all but knowing better than to protest it.

"Good," the taller man said, leaning down to kiss his ear. "Then go."

Bobbing his head, Mistoffelees turned quickly for the stage.

Coricopat's brow rose behind his mask as the small courtesan made his way toward the stage area and away from his client of the night. He considered moving, but stayed in his spot as the dark-haired dancer reached Mistoffelees' side.

Griddlebone caught the younger courtesan's arm, "Misto, what are you doing?"

"I have been requested to dance," he said, leaning in so he could talk as quietly as possible with the pounding music. "If you and Bomba and Teazer could at least clear the stage."

Her eyes widened behind her mask, "You're dancing? Here? Now?"

"Yes," he said, voice low, and eyes darting to where he knew Cori still was. "I can't help it. Jones especially requested I deal with this man, and apparently he would like everyone in the room desiring me before he takes me to bed with him, as he himself put it."

"Bastard sons of bitches the lot of them," she swore under her breath. "Alright, I'll speak with Bomba and Teazer, and you'll have the stage to yourself. One song. That's it and then we come out again. We have our own clients to look for and he can take it up with Jones if he doesn't think that's long enough." Her gaze swept over the crowd, pausing when she spotted Coricopat, "And when you're done with him, I'll meet you either at my rooms or yours. Alright?"

"Alright," he said, voice soft. "Believe me, I don't think he would ask for more than one dance anyway," he added, trying not to look back at him. "It's going to be okay, isn't it?"

She offered him a gentle smile, "Of course it is. It'll all be alright." She brushed his hair back from his forehead and then moved off, sliding up next to Teazer and murmuring in the pixie-like dancer's ear. Teazer nodded once and slipped off the stage. Griddlebone hesitated for a moment and then sidled up to Bomba, looping her arm through the other woman's, "We need to clear the stage for a song."

"I figured," Bomba said, having watched the exchange and Mistoffelees' posture when he left the other man's side. "Is he gonna be alright?" she added as Mistoffelees disappeared behind the curtain briefly.

"He wants to think so, but no. He's not," Grids answered, her gaze locked on the curtain. "Did you see who else is in attendance tonight?"

"Yeah," Bomba said, scowling in the angular man's direction. "Do you want me to deal with him at all?"

Griddlebone tucked a lock of her black hair behind her ear, shrugging slightly, "You can try. He had to have a reason to come back, inform him that tonight is not the night for it, if you would?"

"I will do my best," Bombalurina said with a smirk, moving away from the stage and swaying through the crowd, greeting several costumers as she started working her way back to the wall where Coricopat was leaning.

Finally the song changed as Mistoffelees ducked back from around the curtain, having quickly changed into a white tank shirt with long white gloves to better reflect the light. It wasn't much different from his usual attire, but enough to be noticeable.

He flowed into the dance, trying to find it in himself to actually enjoy the movements. He remembered a time when he used to love dancing with everything in him, when his father used to take him to lessons, and his mother would pick him up on her way home from work. When he danced for himself. Now, he was aware of all the eyes on him as he moved through the movements, aware that the client's prediction was coming true—everyone watching him probably wanted his body to some extent or another.

Lifting his eyes, rather than watch the crowd that was faceless and meaningless to him aside from lust, as he moved through the song and from one side of the stage to the next, he found himself seeking out Coricopat. As he danced, more and more he began to dance for the other man, keeping his gaze there when he could, and when it wouldn't be noticeable for the audience to comment.

As Coricopat watched the other dance, it took all he had in him to stay where he was, leaning against a wall of the club. He had a clear view of the stage and was easily able to see the way the other moved. There was something about this dance, though, that made the young professor wish to draw the other away from all of the eyes undressing him and let him know he was so much more than what they saw. That he was a human, not just a body. That he was a soul, not just a shell to hold what they wished. There was so much to the young man dancing before them that they didn't see, and some small part of Coricopat was ruthlessly, jealously glad of that—though the far larger part wished that someone would see it, would see the young man in need of compassion and comfort. That there was some way to make it clear.

When the song finally closed, Mistoffelees stopped in the center of the stage, looking for all intents and purposes at simply the space furthest from him, but really giving Coricopat a last look before focusing his eyes back on the silver haired man, who was waiting for him at the edge of the stage. Taking the man's hand, Mistoffelees allowed himself to be pulled from the stage, clearly claimed by that motion.

Coricopat drew a deep breath, trying to calm down as he watched the older man pull Mistoffelees possessively from the stage. His jaw tensed, but he managed to keep the rest of his body mostly relaxed. This was something he knew could, no would, happen. The small black-haired man was a courtesan. Even more than that, he was effectively a slave to Bustopher Jones. There was no semblance of freedom for the younger man, nor would there be. Running these logical reasons through his head had kept him calm when he wasn't in the actual moment, but now they failed him. He could feel the sting of jealousy from earlier growing into a licking flame and he didn't care for it. He suddenly wished he could rewind a week and lose the ability, nay the inclination, to feel anything. To care. To desire.

The man in question ran a hand along Mistoffelees' face. "You are as remarkable as I was lead to believe."

"And I haven't even preformed for you yet," Mistoffelees said, voice sultry and head tilted slightly.

"But you will hold up just as well there, I'm sure," the man murmured, pulling the younger man in close so suddenly he nearly unbalanced.

Looking up at the other's eyes, Mistoffelees pressed a key to his chest. "The peacock room," he murmured.

"Only the best I see," the man smirked. "Your employer certainly knows how to flatter a person."

"To say the least," Mistoffelees agreed as the older man's hand landed on his lower back, the very movement possessive and he tried not to flinch away.

The man laughed, steering Mistoffelees with the hand on his back, out of the main club and leaving the music behind. At this time of night, the hallway was also lit in black light, but when Mistoffelees pushed the room open to the peacock room, the lights changed to a mix of normal and purple lights, highlighting the various jewel toned cushions and other décor.

"The most expensive room and the most expensive body," the man remarked and Mistoffelees did everything he could not to tense at that description.

"Only the best," he said, moving over to where the room had a built in bar and not quite looking at the bed in the center of the room yet, where it was sunk into the floor. "Would you like a drink then?"

The man shrugged, moving after the smaller man. "Take off your mask."

"What?" Mistoffelees turned, shoulders going tense. "I don't, I'm not supposed—"

"Please," the man drawled. "It's hardly like I don't know who you are. Now, are you as good at following orders as everything else or not?"

"You—" the younger man barely started before the older man moved forward, pulling the mask off his face, causing the ribbon to snap painfully at the back of his head. With his free hand, the silver haired man tugged Mistoffelees by grabbing his lower back and kissing him hard as the smaller man muffled a cry of pain at the sudden removal of his mask.

"That's a no to following orders then," the man murmured, drawing back.

"No, I," Mistoffelees started again, trying to regain some control over what just happened and realizing that was unlikely to actually happen. After all, it was about what the client wanted, and not what he actually cared for. Biting his lower lip, he leaned into the other's touch and tried to actually obey what the older man wanted.

o-o-o-o

Once Mistoffelees had disappeared, Bombalurina finally reached Coricopat, a drink in one hand. "Sweet dreams are made of this, hm?"

The slender man startled slightly at that, glancing at her, "Something like that. Can I help you?"

She shrugged a shoulder, leaning casually against the wall. "You know, it's bad form to fall in love with a whore, right?"

"So I've been told. I've also heard tell you cannot fall in love with someone you've met once," he responded, his gaze returning to the place where Mistoffelees and his client had disappeared.

"Hm, now that I wouldn't be so sure of," she replied. "After all, aren't all our great love stories based on sudden and passionate love and desire? The issue with this, of course being that the jealousy will drive you mad." She was well aware of where Coricopat's eyes were.

"You'll notice our great love stories never truly show how the endings turn out unless they are bad ones." He shook his head, "Do you have something further to say besides things I've already heard?"

"You may have heard them but you don't seem to be listening," she pointed out, taking a sip from the drink. "Besides, at this point in my career making the clients I actually want a little jealous by talking to another man is a boon. Two birds with one stone sort of a deal. What are you doing back here?"

"I came to speak with him. To ask him a couple of questions. Nothing more. Pay him for the time spent so that it could be in private as well."

"You mean you'd actually pay him this time instead of him using his only savings?" she asked, arching a carefully groomed brow. "What did you want to ask him?"

Coricopat glanced at her, "Not that it's all that much of your business, but I was intending to ask him why he didn't let me pay and rather used his own savings, and why he took me to his private room as well. If he chose not to answer, then that was his decision."

"He's… who he is," she amended her statement from saying He's Misto. "He still believes in things no one else here does, even when he doesn't act like it. Like honor and hope and all those nice things you find in stories. He probably had some sappy reason to pay for it himself, but is it really worth coming back here to find out?"

"To me it is."

"It isn't to anyone else," she said, a snap entering her voice for the first time. "If you found out, what's to stop you from coming back the next night, or the one after that? Or the time after that one even? When would you stop if he kept fascinating you? When you were in love with him? What about when the jealousy really did drive you mad? When one of you is a whore there can be no trust and no love without trust. So what's the point in coming back and continuing whatever this is?"

Turning to fully face her for the first time, Coricopat looked her in the eye, "I will come back for as long as my savings holds out if I must. Because he needs to be reminded that he's human. That's he's more than just his body. If that means that I come back, then I will come back. If he asks me to stop coming then I shall stop coming, but you, Miss, have no say in what I do or do not do."

For a moment she blinked in shock at him. "Of course it would be him," she murmured, shaking her head slightly. "Look, I'm only trying to look out for the both of you. Be careful and damn well stay as clear of the firing range as you can. I care more about him than you, and if he ends up hurt because of something stupid you did, I'll come after you."

Coricopat inclined his head at that, "I would expect no less. I shall be careful, and do everything in my power to keep him from getting hurt because of me."

"Good," she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and moving away, melting back into the crowd. She'd said what she meant to say after all.

He watched her go, sighing slightly before slipping out of the club to return to his apartment for the night.

Chapter Text

Feeling sore and wrung out the next night, Mistoffelees looked around the club as it was being set up for that evening's entertainment. When the silver haired man had finally let him go that evening, he'd been too exhausted to actually move from the peacock room, falling asleep there and entirely forgetting to talk to Griddlebone. He'd only just woken up and dressed for that night, a plain white mask back in place and wearing a shirt with a collar. He was trying everything he could not to rub at his cheek or wrists.

Griddlebone swept over to him from where she had been arranging a couple of chairs near one wall, not even having to ask how he was due to his never arriving in the private quarters, "Oh, Misto…"

"It's fine," he said, automatically. "I'm fine."

She reached out to trace over his cheekbone, a habit she'd picked up when he first arrived, "Of course you are."

He tilted his face down, biting his lower lip. "It's nothing, really. And hardly as bad as it could have been." Which, with the exception of two nights, was what he'd been saying about everything for years.

"Which means no lasting physical scars, but not much beyond that," she sighed. "God…"

He shrugged slightly, leaning his face against her hand. "It's not that bad," he repeated. "And when Jones comes to me with a specific client, hardly unexpected either."

"Do you have to take a client tonight?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he said and actually managed not to wince. "I'm still making up for that man stalking out, even if he did end up coming back and Jones was paid for the time." Not that Mistoffelees would ever admit to his uncle that he'd been the one to pay, not the man himself.

"But you took another client that night, and you pleased the man last night, didn't you?" The dark-haired woman sighed, "I'm sorry I just…At least you can choose your own client tonight I suppose."

"It's something," he agreed softly, running a hand over her hair. "You look quite lovely tonight."

She leaned into the touch, "Well, I do try. Thank you." There was something almost wistful in her tone due to the compliment.

"I'm sure we'll break plenty of hearts and probably a couple wallets too," he said, stepping back. "I need to finish getting ready."

"And I need to finish helping out here. I'll see you shortly, Misto." She offered him a faint smile, "Good luck."

"You too," he managed, slipping back away to his rooms, leaning against the door for a long moment before moving to finish his preparations.

o-o-o-o

A couple of hours later, Coricopat entered the club. He wove his way through the crowd to his usual spot. There was some part of him that recoiled at the thought of a 'usual spot' in this place, but that's what it was. From the vantage point at the wall he could see the dj during most of the dances and that was what he sought when he came. The dancers were beautiful, there was no doubt of that, but they held no draw for him.

At the front of the club room, Mistoffelees watched as several of the other courtesans that worked the crowd rather than dance wandered off with clients on their arm, mentally marking off which rooms were filling up. His eyes strayed back to where Coricopat had been the night before and just about froze entirely when the slender man was there again. For a second he didn't quite believe his eyes before busying himself with the music for a moment, even though he knew all the tracks that were supposed to come up that night.

Griddlebone swept her gaze over the prospective clients in the room and paused when she saw Coricopat. Weaving her way over to Bombalurina, she leaned in close, "You did in fact talk to him last night, right?"

"Yeah," she huffed. "He's pretty resilient to logic and common sense. I don't know, it might be best to play this out and get whatever it is out of both their systems." Even she didn't look like she believed that, though she did seem to be rooting for something to happen.

"Maybe…maybe it could be a good thing? Somehow?" Griddlebone offered quietly.

"Somehow," Bomba agreed. "Are we chasing him off tonight or seeing how it plays out?"

"I think we'll let tonight play out. Mistoffelees has his choice of client tonight, and even if it breaks his bank, he should be able to pay for an hour, one would hope."

"If he keeps coming back around, he'd better," Bomba agreed.

Coricopat debated with himself for a long moment and finally moved away from the wall, starting toward where the younger man was at the dj's console. He'd come to talk, and he intended for it to happen.

Seeing him approach, Mistoffelees tensed again, unconsciously rubbing one of his wrists before stepping away from the console—which hardly needed him anyway, to meet the other man halfway. "You were here last night," he started.

"Yes, I was," the taller man nodded slightly.

"Why did you come?" Mistoffelees asked, throat feeling dry but posture remaining relaxed.

"Because I wanted to see you, talk to you."

"Why?" Mistoffelees repeated. "What could we possibly have to actually talk about?" He barely stopped himself from adding there really wasn't much talking that had happened last time.

"Why you did what you did," Coricopat dropped his voice, leaning in a bit closer so he could be heard by Mistoffelees alone when he spoke. "And honestly have the opportunity to talk to you. I'm sure there is something we could find."

Something in Mistoffelees' eyes went cold at that. "You're sure we could find something to talk about in private?"

The taller looked at him for a moment, shaking his head, "That is not what I meant. I want to get to know you. Not this you. Not the physical you that everyone desires, but the side that's hidden away. I want to know the you behind the mask. And I don't mean this one," his fingers ghosted over the white leather that hid the other's features.

"Don't," Mistoffelees said, jerking away from the touch of the mask and hating himself for being so obvious. "Please, don't," he repeated more softly.

"As you wish," drawing his hand away, Coricopat took a half step back. "Say the word and I'll leave. Leave here and leave you be. You have my word."

He opened his mouth to say just that and after a moment closed it again. "What do you actually want? Practically, right now."

"Right now? I want to talk. Nothing more, just talk. Get to know you, or what little you can or will share with me."

"I can hardly talk here," Mistoffelees replied, feeling on edge.

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "I have the means to pay for time away from the floor if that's what is needed to actually talk to you."

The shorter man gaped at him for a long moment. "You want to pay all of that just to talk?"

"Yes. People may think me crazy, hell you may think me crazy, but at the moment I don't care. I want to talk, to get to know you, and if I have to pay for the time to do it I will."

For a moment Mistoffelees' jaw worked before he nodded, motion tight, and turned to walk from the floor, actually trusting in that moment that Coricopat would follow him. He was right in that assumption, the taller man a couple of steps behind him as they made their way off the floor and down the corridor.

Fumbling the key out of his pocket, Mistoffelees pushed open the door to the orange room, turning back to Coricopat. "Now, what do you actually want?"

"I already told you. I don't make a habit of lying to peoples' faces when they ask me a question. I want to talk. About you, about me, about whatever it is you think we can talk about."

"You must have had a particular topic," Mistoffelees said, moving through the room and sitting on the bed. Almost absently he picked up one of the throw pillows, picking at the cover.

Coricopat moved over, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, "Not necessarily, though I do have some things I've been wondering about, I suppose."

Mistoffelees blinked down at him, frowning at that position. "Such as?"

"Why. Why did you pay for the last time I was here? And why did you take me to your own room?"

"I should have made you pay for it," Mistoffelees muttered, looking down. "It was stupid and foolish and idealistic and romantic and I should never have done it."

"That…didn't technically answer the questions, but I suppose that's fair enough." He hesitated for a long moment, "How old are you?"

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the question.

"How old are you?" Coricopat repeated, "I suppose I should have asked before last time, but I didn't."

"What, you're trying to make sure I'm legal after you've slept with me?" he snapped, feeling on edge and regretting it off Coricopat's expression. "Nineteen," he added quietly.

Coricopat's shoulders slumped slightly and he ran a hand over his eyes, "Do I want to ask how long you've been doing this?"

"No," Mistoffelees replied, voice soft and the pillow suddenly fascinating.

There was a moment before the other finally nodded, "Fair enough." He paused for a long moment, "Do you ever have time when you're not working?"

"No," he replied. "I live here. Here is really all I have."

"Would you…" Coricopat bit the inside of his lip, "be interested, or able, to go out. Just for I don't know, ice cream or something at some point?"

For another long moment, Mistoffelees didn't move. "What? Like a date?" He hesitated and shook his head slightly. "I… I'm not supposed to actually go out."

"Not supposed to go out?" That garnered a long blink. Coricopat paused for another long moment, "I, what is it you're being hidden from?"

"I'm not hiding from anything," he said, head snapping up and eyes blazing. "Rather, the world isn't… It's not really considered normal to walk outside in a mask."

"I didn't say you were hiding from something, I said you were being hidden from something. And that statement about walking outside in a mask doesn't deny it. I'd almost say it solidifies it."

Scowling, Mistoffelees looked down. "My uncle doesn't approve of me being seen," he muttered, more to the pillow then Coricopat.

"Your….uncle?" Coricopat rose onto his knees, still facing the other.

Freezing for a moment, Mistoffelees shrugged. "Most people here have someone that sold them off."

"What of your parents?" he asked softly.

"They're dead," he said, eyes going flat behind the mask. "Have been for quite some time."

The taller man dropped his gaze, "I'm sorry."

Looking back at the pillow, Mistoffelees took a deep breath. "Honestly. Why are you here? Why you are coming back, a-and asking me about ice cream as if it was normal to ask a whore out on a date and why are you acting kind and like you don't want anything?"

"Because I want to prove to you that you're human. That even a whore deserves some semblance of something that isn't pandering to other's wishes. That it's alright to desire something. That not everyone takes what you don't want to give."

"You're delusional, or hopeless, or out of your mind," Mistoffelees returned.

"Perhaps I am," Coricopat answered him. "But I can honestly say that if this is madness then I would far rather continue in it than not. You never did tell me last time what it is that you desire."

"It's not relevant!" Mistoffelees snapped.

The other man looked him over for a long moment, "I disagree, courteously, but I do. Surely you have something you desire."

"I never said I didn't, I said it isn't relevant," Mistoffelees replied. "I can desire plenty of things and none of that matters because no one asks me. Or rather, no one really cares about it."

"I don't ask about things unless I care to hear the answer," Coricopat returned, frowning a bit.

Mistoffelees shrank back slightly, standing abruptly and dropping the pillow back down. "You've hardly given me a good answer on why you care so damn much. Besides, what does the answer matter when the things I desire I can't have?"

"I care because I find myself caring more and more about you. And your desires, hopeless or not, are a part of who you are. That part of you that people don't see." Coricopat rose, keeping his distance so he wasn't pressing an advantage afforded by his height, much anyhow.

Tracking up to his eyes, Mistoffelees swallowed. "What I desire? Family, home, work," he listed each word, a wealth of meaning behind each and stopped for a long moment, half fighting with the other things he could say honestly. "You."

The brunet blinked at that, managing a strangled, "Me?" He took a step nearer, his self-control crumbling for the moment as he removed the other's mask and leaned down to kiss him gently, pouring as much of his emotions into the kiss as he could.

The shorter man tensed at that. A moment before he might have accepted the kiss quite gladly, but his entire focus was on something rather different. "What are you doing?" he demanded, shoving at Coricopat's chest and reaching for the mask.

Coricopat took a half step back, not fully processing that the mask was still in his hand, "I, what?" His gaze swept over the other's features and he froze partially at the man staring back at him and partially for the bruise that had been hidden behind the mask. "You're…"

"Give it back," Mistoffelees said, reaching for the mask again, "Please give it back."

He held the mask out, returning it to the other, his grey eyes wide behind his own as his mind tracked over what Macavity had said a couple of days before. Seeking the name of the young man from his memory he finally located it, "Mistoffelees Quaxo?"

Well that just about rendered the mask useless. "You're making a hell of an assumption," he muttered, holding it to his chest instead of putting it back on.

"The nephew of Bustopher Jones who vanished when he came under his uncle's protection five years ago? That's not a large leap from the courtesan who isn't allowed outside, or allowed to reveal himself working in Jones' establishment. Tell me I'm wrong if I am."

"You're not," he managed after a moment, hazel eyes huge in his face, which only highlighted the bruise on his cheek.

Coricopat hesitated before reaching out to trace the edge of the bruise. It was relatively fresh. "Was this the work of your client from last night?"

"Who else?" Mistoffelees asked, barely refraining from jerking his head back. "It was only two nights ago it was you after all, which is a fifty percent chance it was him."

The taller shook his head, his expression darkening slightly. He drew his hand back, removing his own mask, never having cared for the feel of it against his skin, "Damn it."

"Why does that bother you so much?"

"Because you don't deserve to be treated as something that can be battered and bruised. You're a human being, a young man who deserves so much better than to be owned by the next person in line for the night."

"Your opinion is currently outweighed by the majority," Mistoffelees muttered, looking down.

"Be that as it may, it's still my opinion."

Mistoffelees shook his head, moving around to the other side of the bed and sitting down again, looking at the mask in his hands. "You..."

Coricopat hesitated and then sat down on the edge of the bed nearest to where he'd been standing, "Yes?"

"You talk as if you're in love with me," Mistoffelees said, not looking at him. "You don't make any sense."

"I...don't know that I can honestly say that I am. I know I wouldn't mind being in love with you, as painful as it may be, but I can't honestly say that I am currently."

Mistoffelees drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. "You must be out of your mind. Who wouldn't mind falling in love with someone who can't love them back?"

"It will hurt like nothing I've ever felt before, but I can't bring myself to regret the thought of it possibly happening."

"How? You were here last night, and that's what every single night would be like? How could you even afford more than one night? Because that's what it would be... watching things like that," Mistoffelees shook his head.

Coricopat dropped his gaze, fiddling with the coverlet, "The mind doesn't tell the heart what to feel, unfortunately. I can find a way to afford more nights, and find some way to handle things like last night..."

"How?" Mistoffelees asked, finally looking over at him.

"How what? There were several things that could apply to."

"All of them then. How could you find more money, or stand that, or live with this or..." he trailed off.

"I have a good sized windfall, and a friend who is constantly trying to get me to do side jobs for him. I'm...not certain how I could stand that, but I'm sure I would find some way if I needed to. How could I consider falling in love with you? Because you are a young man who deserves it. You intrigue me, and it's possible that getting to know you will mean I don't fall in love, but I don't know yet."

Looking away, Mistoffelees bit his lip again. "What if I say I can't?"

"Cant...?"

"Do this. Continue this. Risk falling in love or whatever the hell you're expecting from me."

"I expect nothing from you. Don't you get that? Just because I fall for you does not mean I expect reciprocation. But if you wish for me not to come back, then I shall honor that."

The only choice Mistoffelees had been given in years was which client he wanted. "You're so accommodating," he muttered, looking down.

"I...is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know," he managed. "It's like you're asking me to decide on something."

"If what I'm doing is too hard for you, let me know. I'll leave. That's the only decision I'm asking of you."

Mistoffelees looked over at him a long moment. "It's rather... you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Do you mean your uncle? Or the jealousy?"

"Both, but especially my uncle," he said, shoulders hunching slightly.

Coricopat hesitated, but reached out to place a gentle hand on the other's shoulder, "Then perhaps I don't. Not fully."

Mistoffelees couldn't help from where his shoulder tensed. "You don't want to. Also, you're probably almost out of time." It's not that he desired the other to leave, but simply that having him around was getting harder.

Glancing at his watch, the taller sighed, "Almost, but not quite. Give me a warning then? What am I getting myself into?"

"This is a man that keeps his own nephew enslaved," he said, voice soft. "Who deals in the underworld. What do you think you're getting yourself into?"

"Something probably far over my head and more dangerous than I should be willing to risk," Coricopat answered quietly, doing his level best to keep his anger about Jones in check until he could leave the establishment.

"Then why are you risking it?"

"You," Mistoffelees shook his head. "Are out of your mind. You've seen the way he treats his own family and you think this is a good idea?"

"I haven't said it was a good idea, have I? Yes, I've seen how he treats you. How he lets you be treated, and I can't sit idly by, even if it's just paying for a night where you don't have to entertain a client then let me do that little bit."

"You can't even afford a whole night," Mistoffelees said, standing again. "Do you think I only take one client a night?"

"An hour then, if not a whole night. An hour in which you can take the mask off and not worry about who will see, who will know, what they will do to you if they find out."

Mistoffelees came to a stop in front of where the other was sitting, looking down at him. "You're idealistic, aren't you?"

Coricopat looked up at him, considering the question, "I have subjects on which I am, yes."

"And past tonight? Do you have any thoughts about past this moment?"

"You want me to lay out plans right now? The honest answer is no, I don't have many thoughts past this very moment."

For a long moment Mistoffelees considered him, unsure, before moving forward, sliding his legs along either side of where Coricopat was sitting and kissing him, motion slow. The taller man hesitated at that, gently returning the kiss and allowing one of his hands to rest against Mistoffelees' un-marred cheek.

"You can't keep coming here like this," Mistoffelees murmured when he finally pulled back.

"Then what would you have me do?"

"I don't know, but if you come here, it's suspicious and obvious and... and it throws me off and I don't know what to do with you watching me."

The other sighed, but nodded, "Alright. Then I won't keep coming back. But must I stay away for good?"

"No, I don't know," he shook his head.

"I..." Drawing a deep breath, Coricopat nodded again, "I'll go, but I don't think I can stay away permanently."

"I almost wish you would," Mistoffelees said, still seated atop the other.

"If..." He swallowed hard, "If that's what you want me to do, then I shall. Without you telling me to, though, I'm not certain I have the resolve to."

"I said almost," Mistoffelees managed, fingers playing with Coricopat's hair. "I almost wish you would. It would be easier."

The brunet tilted his head into that touch, "It would. I'll readily admit that." He reached up and combed a hand through the courtesan's thick black hair, bringing the hand to rest against the other's cheek again.

The smaller man twitched, uncomfortable with that touch. "I'm not even sure I could sneak out, or to where."

Drawing his hand away, Coricopat looked him over for a long moment, "We'll find a way for this."

Mistoffelees didn't have the heart to disagree with him. "Do you know what 'this' is yet?"

"At the moment? A possible blossoming, a realization of humanity, and a potential for care and love."

"Oh, god, what do you teach that you say such ridiculous lines as that?" Mistoffelees asked, burying his face in Coricopat's shoulder.

"Art History," came the answer, Coricopat's arm wrapping loosely around the other. "Though I spent a bit of time studying different disciplines of equal pretentiousness."

That got a tiny laugh. "You should go," Mistoffelees managed after another moment.

"I really should," Coricopat sighed. "It means you should probably get up so that I can go..."

"I don't want to," Mistoffelees said.

"And I don't want to go, but tonight I should. I won't stay away forever."

With a sigh, Mistoffelees finally stood and stepped back. "I... I am going to need your money, though," he said and looked like he hated it.

The other nodded slightly, hating the idea that the other had to ask for that, "Of course." He located his wallet and paid the other. "I'll be back. You have my word."

His hand curled around the money. "Alright," he managed weakly. "But carefully, alright?"

"I promise." Coricopat hesitated, brushing a lock of Mistoffelees' hair back and kissing him again, not quite chastely but close.

Mistoffelees leaned up into the kiss, deepening it without speeding it up. After a long moment, the other pulled back, taking a step away, "I need to go."

The smaller man nodded, swallowing hard. "Good night," he murmured.

"Good night," he hesitated for another moment before slipping out of the room and leaving the club.

Mistoffelees fell back against the bed for another moment, looking at the cash in his hand before running his free hand through his hair, cheek stinging. Finally, he rose, snapping the mask back in place and sliding the cash into his pants for later.

Chapter Text

A couple of evenings later, Rumpleteazer approached Mistoffelees. The club wasn't due to open for nearly another hour, but she had been given a note for him earlier that day and this was the first she'd been able to deliver it, "Misto?"

Mistoffelees looked up from where he was working on that night's playlist, making sure there was a better mix of music than the night before when he'd felt distracted. "What is it Teazer?"

She set the sealed note down in front of him, "I was asked to give you this."

"Give me," he blinked down at the note. "By who?"

"Tall fellow with dark hair, ran into him earlier today, didn't see you til now."

Frowning, Mistoffelees picked up the note, wary. "Thanks, I suppose."

She shrugged, "Seemed nice, and maybe vaguely familiar, but he said to give it to you. I need to go finish getting ready for tonight, if you're good here?"

"Always good here," he replied, offering her an easy grin.

Teazer didn't look like she fully believed that, but she nodded and strolled away to make sure her veils were where she would need them.

Once she was gone, Mistoffelees ripped the note open, trying not to hope it was from Coricopat. It was. The note was brief, asking him if it would be possible for him to sneak out at two the next afternoon, just for a short while, to meet the other man.

Folding the note back up quickly, Mistoffelees tapped it against his mouth for a moment before tucking it inside the vest he was wearing that night, black with a white pattern on it. He really had no idea if he had anything actually worth wearing outside anymore.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat sat at the place he'd asked Mistoffelees to meet him, a book in his hands. He resisted the urge to glance at his watch. It didn't matter what time it was as long as it was before three. At three o'clock he would leave, if the other hadn't shown up. Some part of him did rather hope the smaller man could get away, but he was well aware of how slim a chance that was.

Barely three minutes before three, Mistoffelees pushed the door open with one hand, his other hand adjusting the black hat he was wearing for the umpteenth time since he'd left. Eyes going around the room quickly, he spotted Coricopat with a book and tried not to smile at that. For only meeting the man at a night club, it seemed fitting. He moved forward quickly, sliding into the seat across from the other man.

The brunet looked up, offering him a smile, "I see you managed to get away. It's good to see you in daylight."

"Been a while since I went outside in it," he said, looking around the room, feeling wary and tense. "I should have worn sunglasses but I don't own any."

Coricopat set his book aside, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his coat pocket, "I have another pair, if you'd like them?"

Eyes widening, Mistoffelees accepted them. "I think you're assuming I'm going to be coming out again, by that?" he managed, voice wavering.

He shrugged slightly, "Whether you do or not, if it helps for now you're welcome to keep them."

Biting the inside of his lip, Mistoffelees slid them on. "It's just another mask, isn't it?"

"It..." Coricopat sighed, "Yes, it rather is."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said automatically at that sigh. "It's just... you recognized me easily enough, I'd rather not... have anyone else figure out who I am because they have a good memory and saw the pictures from several years ago."

"No, I understand. I suppose I just wish it wasn't necessary."

Looking down, Mistoffelees shifted. "Well, it is. And it's not really that bad."

"I suppose not. You did manage to get away today at least."

"Yeah, but I have no idea if I'll manage again," he warned, shifting and pulling his hat back down a bit more firmly. "I, that is, I don't mind being here now."

"I know, but even if you don't we have a little time."

Mistoffelees offered him a small smile. "Did you want to see me again that badly?"

Coricopat returned the smile, gently, "Honestly? Yes."

Behind the dark glasses, Mistoffelees eyes slipped to the side, uncomfortable. He was usually so sure in his motions at the club, finding himself outside of it left him unsure what he was actually doing. "Why? And, I'm serious."

"Because I can't get you off my mind. Because I think I'm already falling for you, if I haven't fallen fully already."

"Falle-" Mistoffelees blinked. "You barely know me," he said, voice dropping. "How could you say something like that?"

"Because I have no idea how else to explain this. I've felt simple lust before. I've felt what I thought was love, but I've never felt like this."

"How does this feel like?" Mistoffelees asked, leaning his elbows against the table and forward. "Because we aren't... like destined to be together by outside forces or anything like that." He'd actually heard lines like that before, when he was sixteen.

Coricopat let out a half-laugh at that, "No. Fate and love are not intertwined though some might wish it so. This feels... almost painful on all fronts, when I'm with you it hurts and when I'm not it hurts more. But there's a balance in my mind when I'm around you that I can't seem to find elsewhere."

For a moment Mistoffelees just stared at him, and he wondered if there wasn't a table between them if he would just have kissed him then and there. "Balance?" he asked, voice sounding weak. "If it hurts so much why are you here?"

"I'm here because there are many different types of pain. The pain of knowing that I have to let you go, the pain of knowing I can't protect you at all, it's not a pleasant feeling, but it's not the sort of hurt that drives one away."

"What if it should?" Mistoffelees asked. "You could get hurt a lot worse sticking around."

"That entirely depends on the sort of hurt you mean."

"Physically, at this point. Emotionally when it doesn't work out."

"Physically...yes, that's possible. Emotionally? I've been through hell in that respect already, I can do it again if it comes to that."

"I don't want you to," Mistoffelees said before he thought it through and realized maybe he was in deeper then he'd expected too.

"To...be hurt?" Coricopat confirmed.

Mistoffelees' eyes fell to the other side now. "Yes," he said finally. "You shouldn't be."

"Nor should you," the taller man spoke earnestly, wanting to reach across the table and take the other's hand but not quite daring.

Hands on the table, Mistoffelees glanced down to see them twisting around each other, nervously. He made a conscious effort to still them. "Well, we can't have everything after all. It's not that bad usually."

"You never did tell me how old you were when this started," Coricopat murmured.

"Do you really want to hear it?" Mistoffelees asked, jaw tensing.

"I don't ask questions I don't want the answer to."

"Then you're probably an arrogant fool for saying that before you know the answer," Mistoffelees returned, glancing around the space they were at.

"Then I'm an arrogant fool." He looked around and rose, "Walk with me?"

Eyes snapping up behind the glasses, Mistoffelees paused before nodding and standing. "Where?"

"Just around, away from people who might remember hearing us."

Mistoffelees blinked and his smile was strained. "Someone instilled paranoia in you."

"That would be a combination of my father, my best friend, and my ex," Coricopat answered, heading for the door.

Mistoffelees blinked after him before following. "What was your father like?" he asked.

"Totalitarian. Controlling. Catholic."

"Catholic?" Mistoffelees repeated, a little foolishly. "That... huh."

"Devoutly," he clarified. "You should have heard him the first time he found out I was dating a guy. I lost my familial support for my degree so fast it left my head spinning."

"He dropped you for that?" Mistoffelees asked, something like anger entering his voice. "Not like I can talk about family," he amended, looking down.

"Oh we hadn't seen eye to eye for years, it was strained at best, and I think that was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back, but yes." He glanced at Mistoffelees, "Am I ever going to have an answer to the question I've asked?"

"I don't know," he said, turning his head. "I suppose it might be reassuring that your father isn't as bad as my uncle. How'd you pay for college after that?"

"Financial aid and scholarships. I'll probably be paying off loans for a good long while, but I'll manage it."

"Have you ever considered talking to him again?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up, his hand coming up to cover the top of the black fedora he was wearing when he felt a gust of wind.

"We spoke when mother passed away, sort of. And we've spoken once or twice, but something about being told I drove my mother to an early grave left me with no desire to see him again."

Something in Mistoffelees' jaw worked. "Fathers shouldn't be like that, and... I'm sorry about your mother," he added, weakly.

The taller half-shrugged, "He is what he is. And it's been several years since she passed."

"Several years," Mistoffelees murmured, shaking his head. "My parents died when I was still thirteen-wasn't much before my birthday but I was still thirteen. It's been a long time and I'm certainly still not over it."

"I don't know that one ever gets over that sort of a loss, but where Father was controlling, Mother was distant. I miss her, but in many ways the lack of contact now is only more permanent than the lack of contact then-a continuation of sorts."

"That sound awful," Mistoffelees said, looking down as they walked, kicking at a stone. "Says the boy whose uncle auctioned off his virginity at fourteen," he added quietly. He couldn't bear to answer the question when asked and it just sorta slipped out.

Coricopat tensed at that, but managed not to completely freeze. He glanced at the other, "He...fourteen?"

Carefully keeping his eyes forward, Mistoffelees nodded. "Yeah," he said, voice low. "It was actually quite a big deal to the underworld in the know. It could almost be considered flattering, how many people were bidding on something like that. When it's not disgusting that is."

Letting out a shaky breath, Coricopat ran a hand through his hair, "God..."

"It was a long time ago," Mistoffelees said, kicking another rock.

"Still..." He sighed, "What time do you need to get back?"

"I've been known to sleep until seven in the past," he replied. "The club doesn't actually open until ten. Why?" Mistoffelees asked after a moment.

"Because it means that if you're alright with it we have time to possibly see about coffee or something."

"Coffee or something," Mistoffelees repeated, voice soft. "That sounds like such a date."

"Well, somewhat I suppose."

Mistoffelees bit his lower lip, considering. "I think... earlier, you may have mentioned ice cream."

The taller man offered him a bit of a smile, "I did, yes. There's a shop around this corner up here that's usually pretty quiet."

Not quite saying that quiet was good, Mistoffelees nodded. "Alright," he said quietly, sorta wanting to kick himself for agreeing to this.

They rounded the corner and reached the small ice cream parlor, Coricopat holding the door for the smaller man. That got a startle out of Mistoffelees. "What are you doing?"

"What?"

"You," he gestured a little helplessly to the door, realized he was blocking it and entered the shop quickly.

"Oh...I...sorry, force of habit."

Considering him for a moment, Mistoffelees resolutely turned to the counter, looking over the menu put up on the wall. Coricopat managed not to wince at that, moving over to consider the menu on the wall as well.

Mistoffelees couldn't help but lean slightly toward Coricopat then, even though he felt startled. "I just wasn't expecting it," he said quietly.

"It's something I've always done, I'll try to keep it in mind."

"Okay," Mistoffelees said, looking back at the menu. "Do... you have any ideas or suggestions?"

"Cookie dough can often be a good choice, though vanilla's a classic."

Mistoffelees arched his brow at that, looking it back over, before settling on some variation of cookies and cream-which strangely enough matched his outfit. Coricopat went with the French vanilla, and once they had their ice cream moved over to a small out of the way table.

Trailing after him the shorter man couldn't stop from eating the ice cream on the way, unused to it. "We have all sorts of food, to please different clients," he said and almost regretted it. "But it's been a very long time since I've had this."

"Ice cream is a food of the gods, if you ask me some days. Simple, yet satisfying in its own way," Coricopat spoke, ignoring the comment about clients.

That got a smile out of Mistoffelees, a crooked grin. "Food of the gods? Is this one of those days?"

"I think it very well could be. All of the papers I needed to grade are done and the day seems to pass evenly so far."

"Balance?" Mistoffelees asked, suddenly focusing on the table, recalling a line from earlier.

"Yes, balance," Coricopat murmured, dropping his gaze to the ice cream.

"Hey, it's the Prof," a loud voice suddenly sounded and Mistoffelees' shoulders went tight in panic for no reason he could place.

Coricopat startled at that, looking up, his grey eyes widening as he spotted two of his students. Demeter elbowed Admetus, "And maybe he didn't want us to notice him, ever think of that?"

"Who doesn't want to notice me?" Admetus returned, glancing over at the blonde. "Besides, I just wanted to say hi. There's no crime against that." Half turning to see the other two, Mistoffelees quietly disagreed. One of his fingers started tapping out a half panicked beat on his leg.

Demeter rolled her eyes, "Fine. But then we get the ice cream we came for and go, alright?"

Coricopat's gaze darted to Mistoffelees and back to his students, who honestly weren't that different in age than the young man seated across from him.

Mistoffelees noticed that too, ducking his head as Admetus continued talking right past Demeter's words. "But the point of ice cream is sitting to eat it. It's the point of coming to a shop rather than a store. Hey, prof, who's this anyway?" he asked, coming further toward the table and Mistoffelees considered rising and leaving. He really didn't want any attention near him.

Professor Zimmerman looked up, offering a thin smile, "Admetus, Demeter. This is a friend of mine..." He hesitated, having no name to even remotely offer.

"Well," Demeter glanced at Mistoffelees and tilted her head on one side, "'Metus and I just wanted to say hi."

"And get ice cream," Admetus added as Mistoffelees tried everything not to compulsively adjust his hat or glasses, instead continuing to tap his leg under the table where no one else could see it. He wasn't sure what to say around them that wasn't defensive and sure they didn't deserve that.

"It's nice to meet you," he managed after another couple taps.

"You haven't introduced yourself yet," Admetus returned. "And with the hat and glasses you sure look like someone with something to hide."

Mistoffelees free hand came up, snapping the glasses off quickly. "Really?" he returned, noting Admetus' almost shocked gaze.

"Prof, you never did tell us you have such pretty friends."

Coricopat frowned, "I also never did tell you anything about my personal life, nor interrupted yours. Which was, and still is my prerogative. It's good to see you both. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Demeter glanced between her teacher and the young man across from him, her expression mostly clear, but a small crease between her eyebrows as if she was trying to sort something out in her head, "I'm good. 'Metus, you good?"

"Sure," he managed, as if unsure and ready to ask Mistoffelees if he could take his picture.

"Good. Okay, ice cream then," Demeter caught the other's arm and pulled him with her to the counter.

Coricopat offered Mistoffelees an apologetic look, "Perhaps we should go?"

The shorter man was already up and moving, though he took the small container of ice cream with him.

The professor followed him out, not looking toward his students, though he could feel Demeter's eyes on him, "I'm sorry about that."

"It wasn't your fault," he said, putting the sunglasses back on quickly. "It's just... god..."

"Still, I..." He shook his head, "Perhaps this wasn't an especially good idea."

"It's been a really long time since I stared anyone down without a mask," Mistoffelees laughed, possibly hysterical in reference to Admetus. "God."

Coricopat looked around, the street was virtually empty, "You did well." He reached up, carefully, to remove the sunglasses again, his fingers brushing the smaller man's cheek.

Mistoffelees blinked hazel eyes back up at him. "That was well?"

"Yes. You held it together and managed to make it through. Admetus can be brash, but...well they didn't recognize you, for what that's worth."

"You think," Mistoffelees shot back. "She looked pretty on to something though god knows what."

"My guess is that had as much to do with their professor being unwilling to introduce the young man their age he was having ice cream with as anything."

Something in Mistoffelees' face crumpled. "They were older than me," he said, voice very small.

The brunet dropped his gaze to the sidewalk, "By a couple of years. They're both juniors."

"We're all but on a date and your students are older than me," he said, not quite believing it. "I never got your full name or how old you are or anything and I-"

"Shh. Coricopat Zimmerman, professor of Art History. I'm 33 years old this coming October."

"Fourteen years," Mistoffelees managed and hated that number quite suddenly.

Coricopat managed not to flinch, "Nearly, yes."

Mistoffelees rubbed a hand over his mouth, almost asking for the glasses back.

Running a hand through his hair, the taller man sighed, offering the glasses again, "I should go..."

The smaller man blinked hazel eyes at him, taking the glasses but not quite. "Coricopat," he said, quietly, trying to full name out for the first time.

The other hesitated, looking at him again, "I..."

"You?" Mistoffelees asked, taking a tiny step closer and barely biting back the question, What do you desire?

He hesitated, "I don't know."

"Then take a guess," Mistoffelees managed.

There's a large part of me that simply wants to spirit you away right now, but I know that isn't possible..."

"I would certainly prefer you not dead," Mistoffelees replied, eyes widening. "But, what would the spiriting entail?"

"Taking you the hell out of town and owing Mac more than I could ever repay him for cleaning up the mess left behind."

Mistoffelees blinked at him, breath catching. "How are you real?"

"I exist on the same physical and temporal plane as those around me," he answered. "Beyond that I couldn't say."

Shaking his head slightly, Mistoffelees gave up and stepped forward again to pull Coricopat down into an abrupt kiss. Coricopat startled, but leaned down into the kiss, one arm coiling around the smaller man's waist.

One hand still holding the ice cream and glasses, the other curled in Coricopat's hair as Mistoffelees pressed himself as close as he could get. After a long moment, the professor drew back, resting his forehead against Mistoffelees', "I..."

"Yeah?" Mistoffelees asked, the sound faint as he worked on breathing again.

"I wish there was so much more I could do."

"You're doing more than most," Mistoffelees murmured, pressing their foreheads together. "Maybe that's not saying a lot but it's something."

"I still feel that it's not enough."

"Well, you can hardly whisk me away at this point," the dark haired man started and paused for a long moment, considering if he was seriously about to ask for what he actually wanted.

Coricopat brushed a hand over the other's cheek, "I still wish I could."

"You... could for a little while," he said after another pause.

He blinked at him for a long moment, "I...I could, this is true. Are you sure that..." Shaking his head, the taller man decided that nothing lately had been a good idea and this wasn't any worse a one, "We'll have to take the underground to get there."

"I..." Mistoffelees nodded. "Alright. I think I can handle that."

Coricopat offered him his hand, "Shall we then?" Swallowing, the shorter man accepted the hand, allowing the other to lead him.

A short while later, after having survived the underground and the streets, they reached Coricopat's apartment and he unlocked the door, opening it, "Can I get you anything?"

"Like what?" Mistoffelees asked, dropping the glasses on the coffee table and staring around, wide eyed.

"Coffee? Tea? Something to eat?" The taller man offered.

"Oh, things like that," Mistoffelees said, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair.

"What did you think I meant?"

"I wasn't really sure," he laughed, suddenly nervous. "It's been a long time since I've stepped into someone's house."

The other offered him a gentle smile at that, "I suppose that's true. You can take off your coat if you like."

The smaller man shifted before pulling his coat off, draping it on the back of one of Coricopat's chairs, still looking around as if the room was going to reveal some secret before turning his gaze back to Coricopat, offering him a hesitant smile.

"Everything alright?"

"It is. It's just, usually I know what I'm doing and right now I have no idea..."

"Well, what say you to something to drink?"

"Water, water would be fine," Mistoffelees replied, taking a step toward the taller man.

Coricopat offered him a bit of a smile, pouring a glass of water, and returning to the other's side.

Accepting it, Mistoffelees took a sip. "It is amazing, how much someone's space says about them," he murmured, still looking around.

"And what does this space say about me, then?"

"You like books," Mistoffelees said with a crooked grin. "You cook but don't have the time, and you usually eat on your coffee table. It's very... warm here. It looks like a scattered life but a home. It's organized so long as it's not a piece of paper and..." he looked around again, eyes looking a bit lost in his face. "It's comfortable."

Coricopat smiled softly at that, "Rather accurate all told. I can be scattered, but this is a solid home. First in a long while."

"It's spacious," Mistoffelees added, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Relatively, yes," he brushed a hand over the smaller man's hair gently. That got the hazel eyes back on him. He tilted his head back into the touch, pressing up into it gently.

"Someday," Coricopat murmured under his breath, but shook his head. "Would you like what little tour there is here?"

"Yes, but someday what?" Mistoffelees asked.

"I was just thinking you looked like you belonged here."

The smaller man froze, eyes tracing over the room again. "I do?"

"It seems the sort of place that would suit you."

Rather than try to think of an answer for that, Mistoffelees stepped forward, pulling Coricopat into an instantly deep kiss. The taller man leaned down into the kiss, one arm wrapping around the other's waist and pulling him closer.

One hand wrapping around the back of Coricopat's head, Mistoffelees' other hand twined in the front of his shirt. Coricopat's hand moved to cup Mistoffelees' cheek as he held the other protectively. He drew back for a breath after a moment.

Mistoffelees swallowed hard, trying to catch his own breath. "That tour...is that leading toward the bedroom?"

The taller grinned slightly, "It can if you like? But that's up to you."

"Yes," he said, voice firming up from where it'd sounded hesitant before.

Coricopat leaned down and kissed him, tenderly, before drawing back enough to nod toward the bedroom door, "Well, then that's the door to said room."

Mistoffelees glanced over at it and then back. "Are you sure?" he couldn't help but ask.

"I am," he nodded.

"Because," he hesitated a moment. "I want to say, at least once, that I chose to sleep with someone, to have someone, without having to exchange money over it," as he spoke, he kept his eyes on Coricopat. "I'm not sure I want to touch anything else I'm feeling right now with a pole but... I want that. I want this."

"Then..." Coricopat cupped the other's cheek again, "let me give that to you?"

"Yeah," Mistoffelees agreed past a dry throat. "Please," he added, pushing up into another kiss. Returning the kiss, the professor carefully guided the other toward the bedroom, grappling with the doorknob before finally getting it open.

That got a breathless laugh from the shorter. "You gonna be able to handle clothing at this point?" he asked, teasing.

Coricopat offered him a crooked grin at that, "I think I can manage that."

"Good," Mistoffelees said, pulling at Coricopat's shirt, fingers fumbling slightly but practiced enough to get it right. The brunet set to work on Mistoffelees' shirt as well, allowing his fingers to ghost over the other's skin as he slid the cloth away.

Shivering, Mistoffelees moved closer at the touch, making a small sound in his throat as he continued focusing on kissing the taller man even while working on his clothing. Coricopat smiled against the kiss, sliding his hands down Mistoffelees' arms, taking the shirt with them.

Rolling his shoulders, Mistoffelees shifted against him. "I don't know what to make of you," he said faintly between kisses.

"You say that often," he replied, nipping lightly at the other's collarbone.

"It's still true," the shorter protested, tilting his back into the touch.

"And I still do not understand it," his hands trailed down Mistoffelees' chest to his waistband.

"That I'm shocked by you?"

"Something like that."

Mistoffelees laughed, leaning up into another kiss. "I think I'll be surprised by you for as long as I know you."

Coricopat chuckled, "Well, I do hope so."

Mistoffelees' jaw worked for a moment, while he considered just how long or how short he might know Coricopat and he wasn't sure which idea was making his chest hurt more. Coricopat could almost hear the thoughts going through the other's mind and he leaned down, kissing Mistoffelees' jaw line, his hands trailing a bit further, hoping to divert the other even if just for a moment.

Shifting his body into the touch, Mistoffelees pressed himself further against the line of Coricopat's body, wrapping one of his ankles around Coricopat's leg and running his hands along the other's spine. Drawing the other as close as possible, Coricopat kissed Mistoffelees, catching his lower lip gently between his teeth.

Mistoffelees whimpered, combing his fingers through Coricopat's hair, the other hand resting on his hip.

The taller man guided him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed, never breakign the kiss. Making another small sound, Mistoffelees fell back on the bed, pulling Coricopat with him. Running his hands down Mistoffelees' sides, Coricopat hummed against the kiss.

Mistoffelees squirmed against him, offering him a crooked grin when he drew back to breath. "I," he started and couldn't even begin to finish. "Come on," he said instead, pulling Coricopat back down.

Chapter Text

Coricopat blinked almost drowsily at the clock by his bedside before sitting up. He didn't move too quickly, there was still time to get Mistoffelees back to the club in time, but he looked at the other, running a hand over Mistoffelees' dark hair. Eyes closed, Mistoffelees pressed his head into the hand, making a content sound.

The other man really didn't want to break the moment, deeply desiring to just keep the other here where he was content, safe, loved. Coricopat mentally stumbled over the last thought, but he relaxed as he contented himself with the potential honesty of it. He sighed, "Mistoffelees?"

"I know," he said softly. "Need to move, leave."

"Yeah...Not too quickly, but it's probably best to start moving at least."

Taking a breath, Mistoffelees nodded, finally opening his eyes. The bruise on his cheek had almost faded, but without the mask or glasses it could still be seen but otherwise he looked serene. Coricopat sighed, hesitating before leaning down and ghosting a kiss over the bruise before kissing Mistoffelees on the lips, tenderly.

The smaller had tensed at the first touch but leaned into the kiss. "Thank you," he murmured, softly when they pulled apart.

"You're welcome," came the quiet response.

With a sigh, he finally pushed himself up, smoothing down his thick hair and looking around, considering. Coricopat stretched slightly, glancing at him, "Hm?"

Stretching out his back, he shrugged. "Just trying to remember where everything landed."

"Suppose we should sort that out..."

That got another small laugh and Mistoffelees rose, almost considering the cliché of pulling the sheet with him, but instead settled for what he thought might be Coricopat's dressing gown. It was far too large on him of course, but the fabric was soft as he glanced around the room again.

Coricopat turned on the bedside lamp, reaching down and locating his underwear, pulling it on before getting up and finding the slacks he'd been wearing earlier. He glanced over at Mistoffelees, offering him another gentle smile.

Mistoffelees returned the smile, a bit hesitant. Turning his back, he leaned down to fish some clothing up, the robe slipping along his back as he did so. The other man froze at the sight afforded by the robe slipping away, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing back and unsure what was wrong.

Moving over, Coricopat hesitated before he traced a hand gently over the scars on the other's back. His voice was quiet, almost too neutral, "Who did this?"

At the touch, Mistoffelees' back tensed, his shoulders going tight. "It was a long time ago," he said, voice sounding hollow.

Drawing his hand back, the other shook his head, "How long?"

"Three and a half years," Mistoffelees said, not looking back at the other, feeling skittish again suddenly. "Clients aren't supposed to do any lasting damage and he's never been back."

Coricopat drew a shaky breath, though it was more restrained anger than anything in that action, and muttered, "No lasting physical damage at least..."

"No, no lasting physical damage," Mistoffelees agreed, finally turning his head. "But that's all that really matters to my employer anyway. Damaged goods don't bring as high of a price. One set of scars is more then enough."

Sighing again, Coricopat finally nodded, "More than." The temptation of keeping Mistoffelees with him was growing, but of all the bad ideas he'd had since initially arriving at that club with Macavity, none of them had been that suicidal. And who would help Mistoffelees if he ended up dead?

Mistoffelees turned around fully at that. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Of course it bothers me. I don't like you being hurt, I know I can't do anything about it. And I know I couldn't have done anything about it even if I'd known about you then, but..." He shook his head, "Yes, it bothers me."

Hands coming up to cup both sides of Coricopat's face, Mistoffelees kissed him softly. "I survived," he said, quietly. "I'm still here. So it's okay. Okay, maybe not okay but..." he took a deep breath. "It could be worse."

Coricopat's arms moved automatically around Mistoffelees' waist, "You shouldn't have to justify your life as 'it could be worse'. I just..." He sighed, "I don't know. There's nothing I can do, and I hate feeling this useless."

"You have done something," Mistoffelees replied. "Maybe it's not much but it means a lot to me."

"I'm glad. I hate to have to take you back there..."

"I'm going back of my own will," Mistoffelees replied, something flashing behind his eyes. "I don't want to, but you don't have to take me."

"That...wasn't what I meant. I'm at least riding the underground with you, I have business further along the route tonight." He hadn't even realized he had anything else to do that night until that moment, but everything he'd heard from the other, and the sight of the scars, had solidified it in his mind. This couldn't go on.

Mistoffelees blinked, dropping his eyes. "A-alright."

Coricopat sighed, "I'm not making you face those crowds at this hour without at least someone by your side."

The smaller man smiled faintly. "Should I call you my hero?"

"I wish you wouldn't," came the honest reply.

"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a small frown.

"Because I've done little more than treat you as you deserve to be treated."

Mistoffelees ran a hand over his hair. "And in my life, that's just about the same thing," he said, finally moving to put his clothes back on, shoulders relaxing once the scars were covered again.

Coricopat hesitated, but nodded slightly. He picked up the rest of his clothing, but opted to grab a different shirt. The less rumpled he looked for the business he had to discuss the better. When Coricopat got the shirt on, Mistoffelees reached forward and smoothed a hand along his shoulders, settling the shirt. "I like this one on you," he said faintly.

That earned a bit of a smile, "I'm glad. I don't pull it out often, but it's an old favorite."

"It's good on you," Mistoffelees said, stepping back and into the living room, taking his fedora and sunglasses back up.

Coricopat followed him into the living room, considering his all of three coats and grabbing the one he'd worn the last time he was at the club, knowing that what he'd need was in the pocket.

The shorter man glanced over. "That looks familiar."

"The coat? I'm expecting to be out late enough that the others won't be thick enough when I get back," he replied, and it wasn't entirely untrue.

"I'm just saying," he said, flicking at one of the buttons.

Smiling, almost sheepishly, Coricopat finally admitted, "Well, I wore it last time I saw you, too."

"You look quite attractive in it," he said, mostly serious but with an edge of flirting. "I'm surprised more people don't go after you."

Smirking faintly, "Well, most people take one look at the idea of going after an Art History professor as something akin to social suicide. Or at least an Art History professor who has little life outside of work."

"Your students seem to like you. Not that you should date them but," he shrugged. "I'm not even part of society anymore, I can hardly commit social suicide."

"Well, I'm glad you like me regardless of whether you can or can't commit social suicide."

Leaning up, Mistoffelees kissed him again. "We should go."

Coricopat sighed, "We really should." He patted down his pockets to be sure he had his keys and everything he needed for his meeting before he opened the door. Mistoffelees glanced up at him before leaving the apartment, pulling his hat down further.

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone had knocked on Mistoffelees' door, and receiving no answer had set herself to wait for him. She leaned against the wall up the hall from his room, watching for him to come out. Having checked in him occasionally over the last few nights, she had forgotten the night before and wanted to double check that everything was okay with him. Perhaps she was worrying too much, but it was better safe than sorry.

Moments later Mistoffelees came around the corner, pausing for a long moment and almost retreating when he saw her in front of his room. He was very unsure if he actually wanted to have a conversation of this kind, and was careful to keep the sunglasses in a pocket. Taking a breath, he stepped around the corner. "Hey," he said, voice soft.

She blinked at him for a long moment, "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere," he said and blinked. "I mean..."

Griddlebone considered him for a long moment, "I'm practically dressed for tonight. Let me join you while you get dressed."

"If you like," he said, opening the door and slipping inside, carefully setting his jacket down, which had the glasses, metro stub, and note in one pocket.

She sat down on the floor, looking him over, "What were you up to today?"

"Nothing, really," he tried one more time and realized he was looking far too relaxed and honestly content for that to really fly. Especially considering he'd bought the jacket on his first stop that day, having not actually owned one that still fit.

"That's a new coat. And I know you don't accept gifts. Not that any of your clients give them."

"I have money, you know," he remarked. "Jones may take most of it but I can afford things. I was feeling cold lately."

"So you went outside and bought a coat?"

"Yes," he said. "You know as well as I do the shop down the street is where we tend to find our clothes." It really was the only place he had gone in the last several years-albeit usually with a budget from Jones, an escort, and only once every four to five months.

"Yes, and you went when? And had the escort of who?"

"I'm nineteen," he protested. "And I just went and got back."

"It's a nice coat," she shrugged slightly.

Hands shaking, he moved to the closet and started pulling things out for that evening. Grids sighed, "Misto, you know I won't tell anyone. What happened?"

Considering a shirt, he swallowed. "You remember tall, angular, and awkward?"

"...Yes..." she was, warily.

"He..." He paused, trying to think of how to explain. "Asked me on a date, I guess."

"…And you went?"

"Yes," he replied, focusing on the shirt instead, hand smoothing down the black pattern along one side.

"You...Oh Misto."

"Don't," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It's just... you know how long I've been doing this. The idea of someone actually... wanting me and not just my body? Of holding goddamn doors open for me and... How could I not want something like that? It's stupid and foolish and I just..." he was dangerously close to babbling and snapped his mouth shut.

She sighed, "You know you're not going to be able to make it last..."

"I know," he said, voice small. "But what about right now? Having it just right now?"

"Is it worth it?" The dark-haired woman looked at him, asking honestly.

"I don't know yet," he replied, voice small.

"But you want to find out," she said, not having to even guess at what his answer would be.

"I do," he agreed, nodding. "I really do."

"Then..." She drew a deep breath, "Then I'll help however I can, alright?"

He turned startled eyes on her and smiled. "Thank you," he said, voice tiny.

"If it's what you need, and I think it may be, then of course I will."

"Still," he said, voice getting smaller. "It's a lot to ask for."

"Well, it's a lot to give, but you need the help, somehow."

Leaning over, he kissed her cheek, before moving back and finally going to pull on his outfit. He paused with his shirt off, turning to look at her. "He saw the scars."

Grids froze at that, "He...how did he handle that?"

"He said he wanted to protect me," Mistoffelees said, looking at his buttons. "Said he wished he could have then. He also found out about my age. I'm worried." he said, glancing back at her again.

Grids rose, moving over to him, "Worried? You should be. But what specifically?"

"That he's going to do something stupid," Mistoffelees said, meeting her eyes.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat had left Mistoffelees at the entrance to the underground station nearest the club and returned to the trains. He continued on his trip in the opposite direction from his apartment. Reaching the correct stop he got off and headed through the streets to the building he was seeking out. The guards there recognized him and let him in. Once inside, the slender brunet made his way up the stairs and entered the main office, pulling the mask out of his pocket and tossing it down on the desk. "I found Jones' nephew."

Macavity looked up from where he was perched on his own desk rather than the chair behind it, flipping through papers on a clipboard. "Come again?" he asked, blinking, a smoke tray by his left hand, and a tumbler of scotch by his right.

"I've found Jones' missing nephew."

"Where the hell and how?" Macavity tried again, blinking, a page still half flipped but his hand had stopped moving.

Coricopat picked up the mask holding it out, "He's Jones' most expensive whore. The 'young and experienced' one."

"You're jokin'," Macavity said, eyes snapping to the mask and dropping his g in shock. It was moments like this his childhood accent shone through. "And I thought I told you to stay the hell away from Jones. Hell you doin' going back there?"

"I went back once...alright twice to speak with him. I didn't meet him at Jones' today. I can't just leave him there, Mac. Not with what I know."

"Twice?" Macavity demanded, snubbing his cigarette out angrily and finally dropping the clipboard down. "And why can't you just leave him there?"

"Twice. I only saw him one of those times. And I can't leave him there because I can't bring myself to leave him in the clutches of the man who auctioned him off at fourteen for his first night working for him."

Something snapped behind Macavity's eyes. "Come again?" he said, voice low and dangerous and his entire posture changing. He wasn't asking Coricopat to repeat what he said, but to expand upon it so he could make sure he understood exactly what had just been said.

"Both of Mistoffelees' parents died when he was fourteen and he was sent to live with his uncle. Who auctioned his virginity off to the highest bidder. Since then he has had clients, and I do mean that plural, nearly nightly as far as I can tell."

Sliding from the perch on his desk, moving like melted metal before solidifying, Macavity paced around the office for a minute, stopping in front of the window and looking out over the night landscape, lighting another cigarette. "You're tellin' me Jones sold off his orphaned, fourteen year old nephew to god only knows what sort of pervert? After he just lost his parents and was alone in the world?" He shook his head. "Anythin' else?"

Coricopat hefted himself up to perch where Macavity had been, watching his friend, "That's exactly what I'm telling you. Since then, as I said, he's taken on clients nightly. Including one when he was sixteen who left him with deep scars on his back. When asked all he told me was 'I'm here. It could be worse'. Oh, and the bruise he has on his cheekbone from the last VIP bastard his uncle gave him to. He's nervous, jumpy, paranoid, both in public and private. When he figured out I'd seen those scars I'm not sure even you have ever tensed that fast."

Taking a drag off the cigarette, Macavity considered. "I never realized Jones dealt in things like that. Do you know anything about the state of his other... employees?" His emphasis on the last word was ironic and bitter, gears in his mind already turned as he continued looking over the city.

"No. What I've just told you is gradual accumulation. We haven't talked about the others at all." He paused for a long moment, "Mac?"

"Hm?" Macavity hummed.

"I know you're you so those gears are churning for how to deal with Jones because he's...well..." Coricopat shook his head, "I just...if you manage to take him out, you have my promise to do art appraisals for you for the next two years. No questions asked."

That got the red head to turn around slowly. "I've been pestering you about that since you started that damn degree," he said, voice slow. "You hate him that much?"

"You haven't looked into Mistoffelees' eyes and seen what has been done to him. Yes, I hate Jones that much."

"This is dangerous," Macavity said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the window, watching his friend. "Either your or he could end up a whole lot more hurt then you are now. Are you sure you know what you're askin'?"

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "I know that what I'm asking puts us in an extremely risky position-more so than before. I also know that it's not just one person Jones does this too. I can almost guarantee there are others there with similar-sans the relation-stories."

"Seems more of a bastard to sell his own nephew out, don't it?" Macavity remarked, taking another drag.

"Something like that."

Macavity scowled and then nodded. "So, you want me to, what, exactly? So I know."

"Whatever you have to."

"Alright," he said, with a slow nod. "It'll take a while. You realize that right?"

"I do. There's far too many things to consider for it not to." He drew a shaky breath.

"Then be extra damn careful until this is over," Macavity said, seeking the other's eyes. "Don't get killed in any home stretches."

Coricopat met Macavity's gaze, nodding once, "You have my word."

"Good," Macavity said. "Now shoo, I need to start that plannin'."

The other man nodded, getting off Mac's desk and exiting, pausing long enough to murmur a "thank you".

Macavity nodded. "I'd say you're welcome but it's not the time for that yet. Thank me if we get through this unscathed."

"I'll keep that in mind," the door closed firmly behind Coricopat.

o-o-o-o

Almost a week later, Coricopat stood at the location he'd agreed to meet Mistoffelees, if the other could get away. He kept his eye on the bench just up the street, in case it took nearly an hour for the smaller man to arrive again, in which case he had a book and could rest there. He glanced at his watch, still trying to decide if his current plan was a decent one for the day.

Maybe fifteen minutes after the agreed upon time, Mistoffelees came around the corner, Coricopat's glasses back on his face and hat on again. He looked somewhat more relaxed to be outside, but not by much.

The taller offered him a bit of a smile, "Hey."

"Hey," Mistoffelees greeted him with a small smile.

"How long do we have?"

"A couple hours," Mistoffelees said, glancing down at his watch to double check. "Might be able to push it but..."

"Best not to," Coricopat finished for him.

"So, a couple hours then," he offered, leaning in close. Even outside, he wasn't entirely able to stop his habits of flirting and touching-and honestly he enjoyed being in Coricopat's space anyway.

Coricopat offered him a smile and looped their arms together, "Well, I'm thinking we should avoid ice cream today, but there's a movie theater around here, or a small restaurant?"

"Movie theater?" Mistoffelees asked, as if marveling at the very idea. "On the other hand, you're not really supposed to talk during those, if I recall correctly, so maybe the restaurant?" Though, on the other hand, if the theater was dark and Coricopat was close... well, he probably wouldn't pay any attention to the movie anyway.

The other smiled a bit at that, "Well, the movie theater affords privacy so that you won't have to worry about being seen, but we could do the restaurant this time?"

Mistoffelees laughed softly. "Such a hard choice you're giving me," he said. "Maybe a back table?"

"Sounds good, a back table at the restaurant today."

Pulling on their looped arms slightly to lean further against him, Mistoffelees nodded. "I'm not sure how I feel about the implication of there being a next time..."

"Perhaps a little worried? But I should hope not averse to it?"

"If I was adverse I wouldn't be here," Mistoffelees said, adjusting the sunglasses with his free hand.

"I suppose that's true," they reached the restaurant and Coricopat opened the door. "After you."

Mistoffelees could feel himself tense again as he entered with the door held for him. "Thank you," he managed on the way through.

Nodding slightly, Coricopat entered behind him and indicating a table in the far corner where they could keep an eye on the doors if need be. Inclining his head to to one of the waiters, Mistoffelees weaved his way back there.

The waiter arrived and set a pair of menus down for them, checking to see if they wanted anything to drink. Mistoffelees shook his head at that request, asking only for water. Coricopat echoed the request for just water and watched the waiter leave, before turning to Mistoffelees, "How have you been doing?"

"Fine, well, better," he said. "Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, which is a relief."

"Thank goodness..." His mind flickered to his conversation with Macavity the previous week.

"Is everything alright with you?" Mistoffelees asked, watching his expression closely.

He received a half-shrug in response, "Nothing too out of the ordinary really I suppose. Classes start up again after break next week, so I've got to get back into that again."

"Oh," Mistoffelees managed. "Was it a long break?"

"A week and a half due to the time where the finals for the classes I taught were scheduled."

The smaller man nodded. "Sounds... not quite as relaxing as one could have hoped I suppose."

The other smiled, "Well, I'm due to look into a sabbatical soon, so that will help in that respect. Next fall I believe. Take time away to do my own research and not teach for a quarter."

"Researching art history?" Mistoffelees asked and paused. "Will you travel?"

"I'm not certain yet. At this point I'm looking at dealing with the art that is produced and dealt with in the local area."

"That must be, interesting," Mistoffelees murmured, considering the urban space there were in and it's history of gang violence, and otherwise seedy walks of life.

"It certainly could be. I'll have to see what I can find for a focus."

"Death and suffering?" Mistoffelees offered with a small head tilt.

"In a town like this? I'd have to choose a specific artist, or piece of art to keep the focus narrowed with that."

That got a small smile from Mistoffelees. Pausing, he reached up and pulled the sunglasses off, leaving them on the table. "I suppose that's true."

Coricopat offered him a bit of a smile, "Could focus on the works of Monet that have come through our museums and collections I suppose...or Degas. I know there are corners of the underworld who have a certain affinity for certain artists."

"Do you know those corners?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow and mostly trying to tease.

"One," came the quiet, honest response.

Mistoffelees blinked again. "Oh. Well, is it a nice corner at least?"

"Nice is a relative term in this town, but he's a good man, if you disregard art theft and gang-lording."

"Most other towns don't disregard those things," Mistoffelees remarked, expression still carefully neutral. "But I'm more than willing to. He has to be better than most of the people I know."

"He's an old friend, I've known him for years and he's still of the belief that there's some honor among thieves, so he's a better man than most in that area."

"Honor among thieves," Mistoffelees repeated as the waiter reappeared. He'd barely even looked at the menu, ordering the first thing that looked good that he saw.

Coricopat placed his order and the waiter left, taking the menus with him. "That is what I said, yes. It's an old adage, an old idea too that doesn't always hold up, but..."

"It's an ideal," the shorter replied and shook his head. "So, tell me about your favorite artists then."

The brunet smiled a bit at that, starting in on an, probably more in-depth than needed, explanation of his favorite artists, their techniques and history regarding their most famous works. He paused when the waiter returned, looking sheepishly at Mistoffelees, "Sorry, I may have gone on a bit much..."

Mistoffelees laughed. "No... no it was fine..."

"Still, I fear I could go on for eons about some of the artists I named."

"They sound wonderful and it's hardly been an eon," Mistoffelees said, considering the food in front of him and his eyes widening slightly.

Coricopat smiled slightly, but hesitated at that look, "You alright over there?"

"Yeah," he said. "It just... is more and looks better than what I usually have."

The taller man blinked at that, doing what he could to hide his emotions on that regard, "Alright..."

Looking from the food back to him, Mistoffelees offered him a faint smile. "It's not so bad as all that. Just, pressure to keep a slim figure and such."

"Right, of course," Coricopat nodded slightly.

"I think we have it as bad if not worse than most actors," he said, poking the food for a moment before realizing just how hungry he really was. "But it's not so bad."

The brunet across from him nodded again, not commenting on the next set of effects he could see coming from that sort of thing. Damn Jones to hell, "Well, today I think it could be alright to disregard that for a meal?"

"I think I can handle it for a meal," Mistoffelees agreed, trying to keep his eyes from lighting up.

Offering the smaller man a smile, Coricopat turned his attention, partially, to his own food. Mistoffelees tried not to eat too quickly, enjoying and actually savoring the food.

Their conversation ebbed and flowed throughout the meal, Coricopat picking up the check at the end and glancing at his watch. "You know, it occurs to me that I went on for quite a while about the artists I like, but I never did ask about the ones, or the style, you cared for."

Mistoffelees looked at him a long moment. "I haven't seen an art book since I was thirteen," he said, rising.

Coricopat considered that and then nodded slightly, changing the subject, "You know, I wonder how many expressions you honestly have. Even without the mask or the glasses you're hard to read. If not for your tone sometimes."

That got a long look from Mistoffelees and he bit his lip. "It... alright, I haven't seen an art book in years, but I remember this one drawing, of a bull. It was so realistic and it just got more and more abstract and my dad told me all abstract artists needed to know how to actually draw, right? So that's my expressions. I have to be able to control them, with or without a mask. Otherwise I'd be in more trouble every night than even I could handle."

"Picasso," the other man murmured. "Picasso's bull." He nodded after a moment, "I can see how that would apply."

"Picasso," Mistoffelees repeated, trying out the name. "I like the sound of that one."

"He was an interesting one," Coricopat admitted, "I'll have to see what I can find in my books of his work to show you."

That startled a faint blush. "You would?" he asked and shook his head at himself. "Thank you. I would appreciate that."

The other offered him a smile, "Of course I would. How much longer do we have?"

"Forty minutes until I really need to head back." he replied, looking closely at his watch.

"Alright. Well, what shall we do?"

"I'd hardly know," he laughed softly. "What do you feel like?"

"Well, we could take a walk in the park? Or something?"

"You mean a walk where there's real trees?" Mistoffelees laughed. "Alright."

"Yes, a walk where there's real trees," Coricopat offered him his arm.

Hesitating a moment, as if the gesture made him nervous, Mistoffelees slipped him arm through Coricopat's. "If you'll lead the way then?"

"Of course," he guided him through the streets to the park and starting down a little-used path he knew.

"So, are you still feeling balanced?" Mistoffelees couldn't quite help but ask.

"I am, actually, yes. How are you doing with this afternoon?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I'm still waiting for it to go wrong."

"Well, so far so good in avoiding that," he leaned down enough to kiss the other's temple.

The line of the shorter man's shoulders tensed at that, unexpected. "So far so good," he agreed. "And I'm enjoying it, I wouldn't be here otherwise but..."

"But?" Coricopat pressed softly.

"I'm still just waiting for it to go wrong," he repeated. "I don't know if it can last and..."

"And we'll do everything we can to make it last. Alright?"

"I don't want to see you hurt," he replied, running his free hand through his hair.

"I'll stay safe. Will you?"

"I sleep with men every night with my uncle lording over it," Mistoffelees returned. "I'll stay as safe as I can."

"If anything goes wrong, find a way to get word to me, alright?"

"I'll try," he agreed, raking a hand through his hair again. "God only knows how but... I'll try."

"Thank you."

Mistoffelees looked back over at him. "And you? If you get in trouble..."

"I'll find a way to get word to you. Somehow."

"Alright," he said, looking down. "God, what are we doing?"

"Today or in general?"

"In general. It's just..." he shook his head. "I'm worried. I'm scared, I think we're insane and I'm supposed to know what I'm doing when it comes to matters like... this."

Coricopat hesitated, but shook his head, "No. You're supposed to know what you're doing when it comes to the sexuality, not necessarily romance."

Biting his lip, Mistoffelees looked away again. "Most people my age have some idea about romance."

"Well, you're learning..."

Mistoffelees took a deep breath before offering him a smile. "Thank you."

"Of course."

That got another quick look. "Do you never say you're welcome?"

"What? Oh, once in a while," Coricopat said, with a small shrug.

Huffing out a breath, Mistoffelees looked around. "I... I'm sorry. You've tried so hard and I've just been pointing out everything that's wrong."

"Shh. No it's alright. I don't say 'you're welcome' much, because I don't care for how it opens me up."

"It wasn't just that, I meant, in general but... that's good to know." He stopped, turning fully to Coricopat. "Do you open up to me?"

He nodded slightly, "More than I have to anyone in a very long time."

"I can't really decide if I'm glad or sorry for that..."

"Maybe a bit of both?"

"Glad because I'm selfish, sorry because of what it'll do to you," Mistoffelees said, threading one hand through Coricopat's hair.

Coricopat turned to face him fully, "I know. It's...both are alright to feel."

"You sure?" Mistoffelees teased. "They seem pretty contradictory to me."

"I don't think so. Love and life are full of contradictions."

Mistoffelees' mouth twisted. "If you say so."

He ran a hand over the smaller man's cheek, "If we weren't confused about something I wouldn't think this was close to real."

"So no hope of a nice tidy answer then?"

"Unfortunately, no. It takes time."

"Damn," Mistoffelees said, a teasing glint entering his eyes. "I should get back though..."

"I'll take you to the station again?"

"If you feel like it," Mistoffelees said, dropping his eyes.

"I do. Let me take you that far?"

"Alright," Mistoffelees agreed, taking his hand this time instead of his arm. They headed for the underground station nearby, catching the train to Mistoffelees' stop. When they'd reached the train, Mistoffelees had finally put the sunglasses back on, ignoring comments from teenagers that were whispering to each other about how he was probably an actor and they wondered what movies he'd been in.

Coricopat did his best to ignore the looks they were getting from some of the adults, regarding the age gap of the rather obvious couple. They finally reached the stop and they got off, heading for the stairs to the street level.

Mistoffelees stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back at Coricopat. "I... I should go."

"I...yes, you should." He hesitated before he leaned down to kiss the other briefly.

His back arching into the kiss, Mistoffelees stepped back. "Stay safe," he said, quiet, before turning quickly and leaving.

"And you," Coricopat watched him go before returning to the station and catching the train home.

o-o-o-o

The next day, Mistoffelees received a summons to Jones' office after he'd seen his second client off for the night. He tensed, hoping that the man wasn't going to tell him about another client, as he felt exhausted and out of sorts entirely.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked, pushing open the door and his stomach turned over painfully when he saw notes in Coricopat's hand writing and sunglasses on the table.

"Care to explain?" Jones asked, meeting his eyes.

"Explain?" Mistoffelees asked, expression neutral, only a small frown in his tone. "If you can tell me what I'm explaining."

"These are notes," Jones said, waving a hand. "To you, asking you to meet someone outside, with the corresponding metro tickets, not to mention sunglasses. Which you would hardly need here."

"Notes?" Mistoffelees asked, head going back in shock. "I... I have never received any notes, nor gone out to meet someone." He was suddenly so thankful he had never written anything to Coricopat, leaving no actual paper trail.

"The evidence suggests otherwise," Jones drawled, pouring a glass of scotch from his heavy crystal pitcher.

"Please," Mistoffelees said, rolling his shoulders. "It's so obviously a set up."

"Do you think so?" Jones asked, arching a brow.

His nephew was just suddenly so glad that he still wore a mask, and had five years of practicing control. "Yes, I do," he said. "I would never be so stupid as that. Do you think I really would put myself at risk for... for some man like that?"

"He seemed to make an impression at the club, several nights in a row," Jones returned.

"He might well be in love with me," Mistoffelees said, shrugging a shoulder, casual and careless. "But I have no opinion of him other than how annoying it was when he left me looking a fool. I hardly entertain any fond feelings for someone who all but humiliated me in front of clients."

For a long moment Jones just stared at him, gauging his nephew's sincerity. "Then that shall be all," Jones said, already paying more attention to his scotch. "I would hope you were not that foolish."

"I'm not," Mistoffelees promised and left the room quickly.

Chapter Text

Entering the club, Macavity looked around. Most of the patrons were dressed for the black light, in various shades of white and neon colors. Not so with Mac. He wore a deep red the black light was really unsure what to do with, only his mask and hair at all bright.

Griddlebone was just finishing her closing number for the night, scanning the club for possible clients and spotting the man who was remarkable for how he didn't fit the scene. Recognizing him, she couldn't make up her mind if she wanted to deal with him and his worries, or not. Taking into account what Mistoffelees had told her about the previous night and the conversation with Jones she had a feeling it could be beneficial.

For this night, Macavity had appeared to gather information, remind himself of the layout of the place. However, as he spotted the dancer leave the stage he began to reconsider, changing his trajectory to meet her in the middle of the floor. She looked up at him, her dark hair falling over one eye from its side-part, "Good evening, sir."

"Evenin', milady," he said, accent leaking through again, that of a working class childhood. "How does tonight find you then?"

"Quite well. And yourself, sir? How does the evening find you?"

"With many questions and the desire to know," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and speaking into her ear, making sure no one else could hear them.

She pressed up against him, her lips as close to his ear as she could manage, "If you desire answers, then do come with me. The answers to many things lie behind closed doors."

"As they should," he agreed, dropping his hand into her's. "Lead then if you wish to."

Drawing him after her through the crowds, she led him down a different corridor than before, unlocking the room she was using that night and entering, relocking it behind them, "I didn't expect to see you here again."

"Was hoping I wasn't going to have to come," he said, sitting on the bed and crossing his legs, already pulling the mask off.

She drew her own mask off, sitting down near him, "What brings you back to the house of desires?"

He managed to not roll his eyes. "A favor. I'm a sucker to my friend asking me favors."

Griddlebone looked him over for a long moment, "Is this the same friend you mentioned at your last visit?"

"Pretty much the only one I've had since I was six," Macavity said in agreement.

"Am I permitted to inquire about the favor?"

"How much do you like your employer?" Macavity returned.

"He's a bastard son of a bitch who will probably kill me if he finds out I'm having this conversation. Not to mention what he's done to his own flesh and blood, so to put it simply? Not in the least."

"Well that makes this easier," he said, resting his elbows on his crossed knee. "Because I've been asked in the vaguest way possible to... well, take care of Jones."

Griddlebone blinked at him for a long moment, "You've...what?"

"Well, it started with Cor wanting to just get your little Mistoffelees out of this mess. However, he made the mistake of telling me exactly what Jone's been doing. So my question is, do I get one of your people out of here, or do you think the entire place wants to be free?" He was actually asking her opinion, trying to figure out what was going on and what would work best.

She looked him dead in the eye, "There are only a half dozen here who /might/ not want to be free, and they could just as easily get jobs at any number of similar clubs. Mostly it's the waitresses. Did you know that Jones has an entire back section to this club? The dark side of the moon, we call it."

"A back section?" Macavity asked, voice level even as he started digging around for his cigarettes.

The dancer nodded, "It's where those of us who have grown too old, or have been visibly scarred are sent. In that section anything goes-violence of any sort if it's part of the desire. As long as the whore doesn't end up dead, and even then for the right price it's made to look like he or she overdosed and the client? Well, they never come back, but you never hear that anything happened to them either."

Macavity froze. "Your Mistoffelees has scars," he said, voice low.

"On his back. As long as he never turns onto his front he can still give the clients the illusions they desire. Even then, some get off on the thought of other's pain even if they aren't' the one to have done that damage. Jones wouldn't risk losing the money Mistoffelees brings in, regardless." She paused for a long moment, "You know an awful lot about M."

"That friend of mine who's managed to totally screw everything up by falling in love with a whore? No offense to you of course, but you gotta see why that's annoying. Well, he sorta stormed in in a high fury and threw everything at me that might convince me to help. Including illegal art appraisals I might add, which is saying somethin' for us."

"Illegal art appraisals?"

"He's an art history professor," Mac said, cupping his chin in one palm. "And let's just say my dealings are hardly legal to begin with."

"Well, if he came to you to get rid of Jones, or to get Mistoffelees out of here, then I would assume they aren't."

That got a chuckle out of the red head. "Point, yes. Mostly I deal with thievery and the like though. This operation is going to use just about half the favors I have."

"Still. It will be good. Bomba and I can see about helping the girls that need it once this goes down, as best we can I mean."

Macavity considered her a long moment. "So you seem pretty aboard with this whole idea."

"If it gets us out of here?" She nodded, "I am."

"Than can I ask for your help?"

She nodded, "You can."

"I'll need some things," he said, seeking out her eyes. "Schematics for this place would be nice. Some head counts. Any habits or schedules you know of."

"That could take time, but I'll see what I can get for you. What sort of head count? Of the people working here?"

"In all occupations," Macavity agreed. "Lackeys of Jones', whores, waiters, everyone."

She nodded, "When do you need it by?"

"Soon as possible," he said, rising. "The faster this moves the better."

Grids rose with him, "Tell your friend to be careful. More than he has been."

"If you tell the same to your boy," Macavity replied.

"He's aware. He was called in to speak with Jones yesterday."

"What?" Macavity asked and suddenly she had his entire attention again.

"Jones does a sweep through our rooms, randomly, when the mood takes him. He found metro stubs and a pair of sunglasses in Misto's room yesterday. Along with a couple of notes that M was foolish enough to keep. I think it was diffused as someone trying to set him up, but I don't know how much he'll be able to pull that off."

The tall man swore under his breath, cursing everyone up and down the Nile. "Great. I'll pass that along to Cor. They have got to remember what being careful even means."

Griddlebone nodded, "You be careful as well. Alright?"

"Me? I ain't even doin' the hard part," he said with a grin.

"Still," she offered him a bit of a smile, something seductive about the corners of it, "Is there any way I can thank you?"

He blinked at her, and took half a step back. "Not to say you aren't all sorts of lovely and helpful," he said. "But I really don't like the idea of payin' someone money for somethin' like this."

Grids looked him over for a long moment and then nodded, "Then when this is over and I don't have to charge you for it, perhaps I can thank you then?"

"Perhaps," he agreed softly. "Perhaps. For now, I should probably go... plan things more."

"Of course. Take care."

"You too," he murmured, pulling some cash from his pocket to cover their conversation and handing it over before slipping from the room, pulling his mask on in the same instant. She checked over the cash, nodding slightly before replacing her mask and going to see about an actual client.

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone approached Mistoffelees' door the next day, hesitating in the hallway outside for a long moment. The young man really had a right to be privy to the conversation she'd had the night before, but she was still uncertain about telling him. After another moment of deliberation she finally knocked.

Rather than calling for the other to enter, Mistoffelees opened the door himself, peeking out. "Oh, Grids, come in," he said, stepping back, a hairbrush still in one hand.

The dancer offered him a faint smile and stepped inside, "Hey, how was your night?"

"Normal," he said with a small shrug. "Clients, but nothing out of the ordinary or too bad. Is everything okay?"

"I...I think so?

"You sure?" he asked, sitting back down from where he was trying to tame his hair. "You usually don't come around unless something's up.

Grids hesitated again, moving over and taking the brush from him to see if she could help with his hair, "I don't know. There's a man who's come around twice. He...he never does anything but ask questions."

Something in Mistoffelees' shoulder's tensed at that description. "Who? And why?"

"I don't know his name. He says he's a friend of the man you've been seeing. Last time he came asking questions about the two of you because he was concerned. I...told him what I could without telling him about you exactly."

The shorter man frowned, trying to process that. "He... He's Cori's friend? And... you answered his questions?"

"I...I did, yes. He was as concerned as I was, and I wanted to know more about Cori."

"So what did you tell him?" Mistoffelees asked, a frown and fear in his eyes when he turned his head up to look at her.

"I told him you were expensive, young, and what happened the night you first slept with Cori. That was weeks ago, Mistoffelees."

Mistoffelees scowled slightly. "Weeks ago is not that long ago," he murmured. "What if he really wasn't Coricopat's friend, but simply scooping out information?"

"Then he wouldn't have come back last night."

"He came back last night?" the shorter man managed, swallowing. "What about?"

Her hands paused, the brush stilling against the back of his head, "He was scouting the place out."

Mistoffelees moved his head away, rising and turning. "For what?" he asked, several different scenarios running through his head and unsure what to make of any of them. "Grids? Stop dropping implications and hints and please talk to me."

She drew a deep breath, running over several possible ways to explain and finding no effective ones, "He's planning to take Jones out. Permanently."

For a moment Mistoffelees didn't respond, eyes just going huge. "And you... you talked to him? As if this was normal? You told him things? Either time?"

"Yes. I did. Though I haven't told him things in the last conversation. Nothing of any aid, anyhow."

"Are you going to?" Mistoffelees asked, blinking and still trying to figure it out. "Wait, no. Who the hell even is this man?"

"He's a man who's been convinced to take out Jones due to information given to him, not by me, about you."

"What?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes widening and looking lost.

"He came here and asked me, quite frankly, if he was going to be rescuing one person from here, or if more than that needed to get away."

Blinking at her a long moment, Mistoffelees sat back down. "What... what did you say to that?"

She drew a deep breath, "I told him that there weren't many who didn't want away from Jones. That it would be possible to find other work if needed." There was a pause, "I told him about the dark side of the moon."

"So, he," Mistoffelees swallowed. "Who's he doing it for then?"

"I...How do you mean?"

"You said whatever his plans are, he isn't doing them off what you said. So why'd he decide, or how's he going to, or who informed him of the situation?" he asked. If the man was Coricopat's friend, that was a big indication right there but he was trying everything not to dwell on that actual thought.

"He didn't name names. He just asked for help. He said he was doing it as a favor to a friend, and that illegal art appraisals were going to be involved, or something along those lines."

Mistoffelees' hands tightened on the chair. "And you think he's going to try and... destroy Jones' empire by killing him?"

"I…" She swallowed and nodded, "I think that's a very real probability."

The smaller man bit his lip, trying to think of anything to say or do.

"Are..." Grids cut herself off, dropping her gaze, "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," Mistoffelees said, looking at her face. "Not really."

She raised her eyes to look at him, "I'm sorry for what it's doing to you, but no, you're right. I'm not sorry that this is happening."

"He's still my uncle," Mistoffelees pointed out softly. "And there's no guarantee this man's... plans could succeed in any way."

"I know he is. And, no. There isn't. But I'm still going to aid him if I can."

"And you're not sure who sent him on this?" Mistoffelees asked.

"I have suspicions, but he didn't give me a name if that's what you mean."

The smaller man looked down, trying to figure out exactly what he was feeling. "God. And you... you want to help him? This complete stranger?"

"I want a chance to get out of here. Another one of the girls in the back died last week. I've only a handful of years, if I'm lucky and don't get any particularly sadistic clients, before I end up there as well." She shook her head, "I'm hardly doing this entirely for others."

"I know," he said, looking down.

"A chance like this won't happen again." Griddlebone drew a shaky breath, "I...I don't know."

"I'm sorry I can't get more excited about it," he returned, a trace of sarcasm in his voice before it broke again. "But he's the only relative I have left."

"Damn it, Misto, I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to see my side of it. I know he's the only blood you have left, I..." She sighed, "I'm sorry for what this will do to you if it works."

"It would mean freedom though," he said, softly. "Look, it just..."

Grids nodded, "I know. I...Do you want me to leave?"

"I don't know," he said, voice dropping. "I need to figure it out."

She swallowed, nodding again, "Alright. I..." Glancing at the door, she hesitated again, "Should leave you to that..."

If, if you have things to do," he shrugged, turning his head away.

"You and I both know I don't. I'll stay if you want me to."

Swallowing, he finally shook his head. Grids glanced away, but nodded, "Alright. You...you know where to find me if you want me for anything." She started for the door.

"I do," he replied, staring at the floor.

Hesitating for another moment, she finally slipped out returning to her room.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat was working on clearing out the spare bedroom in his apartment, books and papers and miscellaneous artwork had accumulated in the room over the years he'd been living there. It was long since time to clean it, but if he hadn't had some sort of motivation behind it, it probably would have set for another six years or so. He paused when he thought he heard a knock on the door, listening to see if he would hear another.

Rather than knock again, Macavity just opened the door with the key, looking around. "Cor! Cor, why are all these books out here?"

"Spring cleaning," came the response from where the other man was considering which pile to move into the living room next.

Macavity poked his head into the spare bedroom. "Spring cleaning, or cleaning the entire room out?"

"Both."

"A little premature there, aren't you?"

He shoved a stack of papers at his friend, "These go by the desk. And yes, probably, but better to have it cleaned out now then have to do it if you pull this off and he agrees to stay here. It's a couple of ifs, but I've been meaning to clear this room out for a while anyhow."

"Sure you have," Macavity muttered, blinking at the pile before stepping over to drop it on the desk. "So you really want him to come live with you?"

"I've got a spare room, Mac. I'd be remiss not to offer it."

"You can't offer a spare room to every whore that lives there," Macavity returned.

Coricopat's eyes narrowed, his expression shuttering, "No. I can't."

"But you are to him? Are you sure that alone isn't a little premature?"

"What would you have me do?"

"No idea," Macavity shrugged. "Just commenting on your ability to get in really deep really fast. Last time you spend a year and a half moping and really only got over when you found him. You let him move in and he screws your heart up and then what?"

"Then you can say I told you so and leave me to mope for a few months before dragging me out to dinner or something," came the testy response and Coricopat gathered a stack of books.

"Right, it'll be that simple," Macavity said, dragging a box of books out to the large bookcase in the living room. "What are you going to do with all that bloody art? I mean, we're freeing up some wall space here but I'm not sure how much he'd like all this on the walls."

Coricopat shrugged, "Find somewhere to store some of it, sell some, and see if...Is that Picasso's bull on that poster there?" He picked it up, "Oh, no, it's some one's attempt at a rendition of it. Well that can go to a thrift store."

Macavity blinked. "Picasso's bull?" he asked in confusion.

"It's a piece of art showing the way in which Picasso worked down from a bull to the most basic characteristics of the lines that for the base. Evidence of what has to be there for abstract art."

"Right, yeah, I remember that one. Is there a reason we should be looking for a poster of it?"

Shrugging again, Coricopat shook his head, "Just been meaning to see if I could track one down. If I already had one it would be simpler, but it looks like I don't."

"Okay," Macavity said slowly, not quite believing a word the other was saying.

"What brings you by today, Mac?"

"Just stopping by," Macavity said, moving another group of framed artwork. "See how you were handling things."

"As well as I can," came the reply. "I'll be doing better when we know how this turns out one way or the other."

"It's moving," Macavity said, tone wary.

"You don't sound especially confident about that fact."

"I am," he said. "It's just a complicated thing. I told you, Jones takes care of himself. He owns more politicians than I even know the name of, let alone everyone he's paid off over the years. He's scum, but he's cunning scum."

The brunet nodded slightly, "Alright. That makes sense, after all."

Moving around the room, Macavity fiddled with one of the posters. "Have a contact on the inside though, and things seem to be moving along. Almost there, I think."

"Just...keep me updated?"

"Always will," he agreed.

"Thank you, Mac."

He nodded, motion not quite jerky. "As I said, we'll have to see how it goes."

"Yeah. You up for helping me finish here, or shall I do so on my own?"

"I have some time," Macavity said with a small shrug.

"Great." Coricopat picked up another stack of books to put with the over-crowded bookshelf in his living room.

Chapter Text

At first when Mistoffelees got the note to meet Coricopat, he thought for sure he wouldn't go. It was beyond stupid, with Jones already alerted, and considering everything. But after what Griddlebone had told him, he couldn't really stay away either.

Slipping from the club, he moved quickly down the street and to the metro, adjusting his hat but lacking the glasses this time. Coricopat was waiting at the entrance to the metro station, an art book in his hands. His gaze swept over the crowds each time another train arrived and discharged passengers.

Finally, Mistoffelees left one, though his stance was more wary than usual.

The professor watched the other, making sure he was visible to the shorter man. He wasn't certain what was up, but something was off and the other was missing his sunglasses which set off a red flag or five. Coming to a stop in front of him, Mistoffelees looked up. "Hey," he said, voice soft.

"Hey. How are you?"

"I don't rightly know," he replied, voice soft. "How are you?"

"It's been a long few days, but I'm doing alright. What's wrong?"

"Would you care for the lesser or the greater problem?" Mistoffelees asked, meeting his eyes.

That earned a long blink, "Both? Your choice as to which order?"

"Well, my uncle discovered your notes and sunglasses," Mistoffelees said, dropping his eyes just as suddenly as he'd raised them. "I managed to say that it was a set up."

Coricopat paled at that, "Oh God...are you alright?"

"I'm very good at lying," Mistoffelees said in reply.

The professor nodded slightly, "I...suppose that's somewhat reassuring, but it also means we should call this our last outing for a good long while probably?"

"I shouldn't have come out today," Mistoffelees said.

"You could have stayed away, I would have understood," Coricopat said quickly.

"I needed... I needed to know something," Mistoffelees said instead, looking around. "Come on, somewhere more private."

Coricopat hesitated, but nodded, leading the way to a small coffee shop where they could find a corner table away from others. Sitting down, Mistoffelees kept looking around and shifting, feeling beyond uncomfortable to be there.

"What's happened?"

"A man came to see Griddlebone," Mistoffelees said. "She said he..." swallowing, he hesitated.

Coricopat's mind went to Macavity mentioning someone on the inside, oh he hadn't..."He?"

"She said that he had been asked to kill my uncle," Mistoffelees said finally, getting the words out quickly. "Did you ask him to?"

"Asked to..." The brunet hesitated, "That wasn't exactly what I asked him to do, no. I knew it was a possibility, even a probability knowing how his brain works, but no. I didn't ask him to kill him."

"But you asked him to do something?"

Coricopat nodded after a moment, "Not in so many words, but the intent was there." Mistoffelees bit his lip and looked down at the table. "I didn't know for certain what he'd do. I just..." he sighed, looking away and shaking his head.

"You just what?" Mistoffelees asked, entire body tense but unsure what he was feeling.

"I didn't know what to do. I went, I talked to him about you. I offered him art appraisals if he dealt with your situation," Coricopat's voice was mute, barely audible by the end.

"My situation?" Mistoffelees repeated. "You think you know anything about my situation and can do anything about it?" The edger of anger entered his voice.

"I can see the damage it's done to you. And I couldn't, but I thought Mac would have insight about something to be done."

"He's my uncle, Cor. He's the only living relative I have and you decide to bring in... what? Some gang lord and think he can decide what to do?"

"That...I..." His jaw tensed, "Your uncle shows no consideration of the fact that you are human much less his blood. Family isn't that, Mistoffelees. I'm not saying that justifies my actions, but I am saying that I honestly didn't think of the fact that he was your uncle, as he shows no indication of it in the way you are treated."

"I know the way he's treated me, better than you do. That doesn't change the fact," Mistoffelees shook his head. "You haven't lost your entire family, have you?"

"No." He answered honestly, "No, I have not."

"Then don't," Mistoffelees shook his head. "Don't tell me about blood and family."

Coricopat looked at him for a long moment and finally nodded, "Alright, I won't then."

The smaller man bit his lip and looked down, twisting his hands around themselves for several long moments. "What, what exactly do you intent to do? Take care of Jones, take him out of the picture, and then what?"

"Help you find a place in society where you don't have to hide who you are, if you'll let me."

"You think I couldn't find my own place? Or that I'd even want something you'd offer me like that?" he asked, snappish.

"I didn't say you couldn't. And if you don't want that help then far be it from me to impose it on you after this."

Mistoffelees looked away for several minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath, reaching a hand out across the table. "Coricopat, I... I don't know. I just don't know."

The brunet hesitated for a long moment before resting his hand in Mistoffelees', "I'm sorry. I...I shouldn't have gone to Mac. But I did. What you do next is entirely up to you."

"If I or you survive that long you mean," Mistoffelees added.

"...Yes, if we survive that long."

Running a hand through his hair, Mistoffelees offered him a strained smile.

Coricopat swallowed, returning the smile weakly, "You'll make it through this."

"I don't know. But I hope so," Mistoffelees murmured. "I should... I need to get back before anyone misses me."

The taller man nodded, "Do you wish for me to join you to your metro stop?"

"It might be dangerous."

"It could be, yes."

"Who am I kidding?" the shorter man muttered, looking down. "Everything's probably dangerous now."

Coricopat rose, "Well, I'll walk with you to the station at least if you don't mind?"

"Alright," Mistoffelees said, voice soft and standing. He hesitated a long moment before taking Coricopat's hand with his and offering the older man a faint smile.

Returning the expression with a fleeting smile of his own, Coricopat started out of the coffee shop with the other man. Trailing behind him, still holding his hand, Mistoffelees considered the taller man's profile as they walked.

The reached the entrance to the metro station and Coricopat stopped, turning to face the other, "Take care, Mistoffelees."

"You too," he started and paused, before leaning up and kissing the older man hard. He didn't even care about all the people milling around and now staring at them oddly, loosing himself in the moment.

His arm automatically wrapping around the smaller man's waist, the professor pressed down into the kiss. There was a small part of him that couldn't help but hope that it wouldn't be the last time he had the opportunity for this, as much as he spoke as though blind to it, he was still highly conscious of the danger the entire situation presented to the two of them.

Finally Mistoffelees drew back, eyes on Coricopat's. "Be very, very careful," he said, voice soft.

"I will be. Promise me you'll do the same."

"Of course," he whispered. "I will be."

Coricopat kissed him briefly again, "Stay safe."

"You as well," he said, one last lingering touch along Coricopat's chest before he took the steps down into the dark station quickly. The brunet watched him go before shaking his head and going to run a couple of errands before he would return to his apartment.

o-o-o-o

Entering the club's complex from the back entrance, Mistoffelees yelped as suddenly he was grabbed from behind. "What the hell are you doing? How dare you touch me?" he demanded, his head tilting back to see who had grabbed him and seeing one of Jones' guards. "Let me go you son of a bitch! You'll be in so much trouble!" When the guard laughed, he felt his stomach turn over.

"I don't think he'll be much in trouble at all," Jones said, walking around a corner. "You were outside."

"What? No! I mean, yes," Mistoffelees' eyes went huge. "I mean, I just went outside to grab something." He'd actually bought a new mask from the shop down the street and it was in his pocket, and he'd carefully ditched any tickets or stubs he might have had.

"You should know better," Jones said, stepping forward and tilting Mistoffelees' chin back. "You think I didn't have you followed. I'm sure someone knows who that brunette was. You seemed to kiss him quite passionately after all, there on the street for the world to see. Is he the one that wrote those notes?"

During his tirade, Mistoffelees had gaped at him. "W-what?"

"The question is," Jones said, hand going back to pull on Mistoffelees' hair. "What to do with you." His nephew yelped as his thick hair was pulled.

"Uncle, I mean, Sir, I-" Mistoffelees started.

"You have a lot of money to make up," Jones said. "I'll let you out onto the floor because I know you are my greatest money maker. But I will watch you. And when you aren't servicing costumers, you will be locked in a room."

"Sir-" Mistoffelees started again.

"Take him back," Jones said, gesturing to the man holding him. "And while you're tied up the next few nights, I'll find this man you've been meeting-his schedule, his job, his life. But I think I'll take his life."

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone was on her way out of her own room to check that her chosen chamber for the night was set to her specifications when Mistoffelees was brought down the hall in the company of one of Jones' guards. Her dark eyes widened and she tried to catch Mistoffelees' gaze subtly. The smaller man met her eyes, widening them and shaking his head slightly as he was shoved into the peacock room.

She nodded once, sliding away to complete her checks, already planning to 'go for a drink' after her last customer left that night.

o-o-o-o

That night, Mistoffelees felt himself tense and off his game. Except every time a man walked away, he could feel Jones' eyes on him, and redoubled his efforts. He finally' took one man back to the peacock room, before returning to the floor.

Griddlebone swept up to him, a drink in hand and seeking her next client. Her smile was just too bright to be genuine, "What's going on?"

"Jones discovered me meeting Cor," he whispered, taking a drink himself. "I think he's going to have him killed."

"Oh goodness. He knows who he is?"

"He knows what he looks like. I'm sure it won't be hard."

"I was due to contact his friend after my shift. I've no idea how to directly reach your Cori though."

"Then tell him if you have to," Mistoffelees said, brushing past her. "I have to go."

She didn't acknowledge that, sashaying in the opposite direction and spotting her next client.

Mistoffelees plastered a smile on his face, making his shoulders relax as he approached another man. "And what do you desire, sir?" he asked.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat was about halfway through his lecture on Degas and what made him remarkable from other artists classified as "Impressionists" along with his contributions to the way art was viewed. His gaze flickered around the classroom, most of the students he'd had once or twice before, but there were a couple he didn't recognize, and an auditor who had arrived on the first day of class who he was certain he knew from somewhere, but couldn't place. He was also pretty much certain the auditor didn't give a fig for the subject, as the redhead never seemed to be paying attention to the lectures. Setting that thought aside and promising to deal with it later, Coricopat turned his attention to detailing a couple of Degas' techniques and what could be determined about the pieces from the time in the artist's life in which they were painted.

Mungojerrie Wheeler, the 'auditor' the professor was so concerned about, kept a minimal amount of his attention on the lecture, his green eyes sweeping over the lecture hall instead. Categorizing each and everyone who entered, exited, yawned or appeared to be taking notes as a possible threat or not. Macavity had ordered him to make sure the brunet professor didn't get himself killed, and thus far it had gone without a hitch, though he was being inundated with more art information than he cared to know.

The redhead tensed as he saw someone come into the back of the lecture hall, the man was dressed like many of the average students around campus, but there was something in his stance and bearing that indicated otherwise. Jerrie was on his feet and moving quickly even as the stranger's hand went for his hip. Diving for the other, Jerrie managed to knock him off-balance enough that the shot the assassin fired was slightly off of its exact target.

Out of the corner of his eye, Macavity's agent saw the professor stumble and fall, the classroom immediately going into uproar. Leaving the students to deal with Coricopat for the moment, Jerrie wrested the gun from the other man's hand, thanking his lucky stars that he had size and surprise on his side in that respect, or he risked being shot himself. He leveled the gun at the shooter, pulling back the hammer in warning as someone called 911. The joy of explaining this to the cops was not one he relished, but the hope was that Coricopat was still breathing, or Jerrie didn't want to place any bets on his own hide, much less the man in front of him who he was sorely tempted to shoot.

o-o-o-o

Macavity met Jerrie at the door to his 3rd level offices. "He's at the hospital?" he asked, having been called by the other.

Jerrie nodded, "Yeah. They'd taken him inta surgery by th' time I got there, but from th' sounds of it, th' shot missed anythin' vital."

"Good," Macavity said, getting his coat. "You know the place I presume? We'll talk on the way."

Nodding once, Jerrie exited, leading the way down to the car, "Th' cops have th' assassin, an' a roomful of witnesses. Well, a row of them who c'n identify 'im as th' shooter anyhow."

"Where was he? Class?" Mac asked, taking the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

"He came in about two thirds of th' way through. Looked like a student who was runnin' late, 'cept he walked to heavy on his left side t' not be ready t' draw."

"Which he did, I presume?"

"He did. I hit him jus' in time t' knock th' shot off it's intended mark, but not by much, unfortunately."

Mac nodded, opening the door into the outside air, blinking up at the small bit of sky he could see through the buildings. "But you did get him off target? Has the news got ahold of this yet?"

"I did, and I don' think so, but I don' know. I was a bit tied up with th' cops an' then went t' make sure your friend was alive b'fore comin' 'ere. I ain't seen media, but that don' mean they don' know about it."

The other man's boss nodded, considering, before pulling out a phone and barking some orders before they reached the metro. "I want Jones to think he succeeded."

Jerrie glanced at the other, nodding, "I assum y' want me t' stick around th' hospital jus' in cas he don't?"

"Yes," Mac nodded. "I'm sure that will make you feel better. After all, you won't have to listen to art lectures anymore."

That earned a faint grin, "I dunno, I might miss hearin' him talk 'bout the Impressionist art movement and all it did t' what came after."

"Really?" Macavity asked with an arched brow as they took the steps down.

"Probably not. I don' think I really care that much about why Degas painted how he painted, as long as some of 'is paintin's are still worth money," Jerrie shrugged, following his boss onto the metro train.

"See, that's the answer I expected of you," Mac chuckled. "Let's go check on our patient then."

o-o-o-o

Several nights after being put on probation for lack of a better term, Mistoffelees was ushered into his uncle's office. His spine was straight, even as the larger man sent to guard him that night shoved at his shoulder. "Yes, sir?" he asked, looking around the office. There didn't appear to be any warning signs that Jones was in a foul mood and he tried to breathe normally.

"Ah, Mistoffelees," Jones drawled, leaning back in his seat and shooing the larger man out. "This is a family matter."

"A family matter?" Mistoffelees asked, face neutral as he heard the door open and close behind him.

"Rather," Jones said with a nod.

"And what family matter would that be, sir?" Mistoffelees asked, this time carefully using the formal instead of calling him uncle.

The rotund man made a face at that. "The matter of your lover."

"He wasn't-" Mistoffelees started to protest.

"Is dead," Jones finished and the smaller man in front of him froze entirely, every muscle tensing and his mind blanking for a welcome second before it processed.

"What?" he asked, all walls breaking and looking devastated.

Jones just laughed at that. "See, clearly you cared."

"I could just mourn the dead," Mistoffelees returned woodenly, feeling shaky.

Jones snorted. "Certainly, you could call it that."

Looking around the room, the shorter man searched for anything to focus on, anything at all while his mind tried to convince him what he was hearing was true. "You sent men to kill him?" he asked, the words rasping past his throat.

"Yes," his uncle nodded, seeming to take glee in his nephew's pain.

"You son of a bitch," Mistoffelees managed after another moment, not even trying to keep it back.

Narrowing his eyes, Jones rose, to loom. He wasn't much taller than his nephew, and certainly not as fit, but he was larger, and could use his bulk in ways that less practiced men wouldn't even think of. "Excuse me?"

"You son of a bitch," Mistoffelees repeated, meeting his eyes.

"You had better not dare-" Jones started.

"I will damn well dare!" Mistoffelees returned, body finally unclenching and fire bubbling up in his chest, anger searing through the numbness. "You son of a bitch! You sell me out to whoever you want, you, my only living relative don't give a damn! You use me for money, you kill at your own will! No one matters but you!"

"You would disagree?" Jones asked, eyes narrowing.

"No wonder so many people would be willing to kill you," Mistoffelees snarled. "I didn't believe it at first, I tried to justify it, even though I knew I shouldn't. You sold me out when I came to you for help and turned my life into... into one of desire and slavery and still I wanted, I tried, I desired to care about you."

Slowly, Jones leaned across the desk, eyes almost squinting they were so narrow. "You had better learn to shut your mouth," he snarled.

"I had learned!" Mistoffelees said, hysteria keeping his words strong. "I had learned how to be your good slave. But you know what? Dead or not Coricopat was entirely right. You don't deserve your little empire, you don't even deserve to live!"

As his nephew had been talking, Jones' hand began straying toward his crystal decanter. With the last declaration, he finally raised it, slamming the heavy crystal at the smaller man. Luckily it hit him on his shoulder and not the side of his neck, shattering and covering him in sharp glass and acholol.

With a small cry, Mistoffelees collapsed, right hand coming up to try and cover his left shoulder and neck, where cuts ran up and down the length of his arm and neck. He turned wide eyes up at his uncle who smirked.

"I hear alcohol is a good anti-septic," Jones said, carefully pouring what remained on Mistoffelees' shoulder, causing his nephew to bit back a scream of pain.

He barely understood when his uncle called a man in to drag him away, dropping him in his room. All he could think about was what his uncle said-Cori was dead-and that with such an obvious scar as was probably going to result from this, he was unlikely to continue work. He thought he heard someone call for a doctor as he just let it go, curling up and passing out.

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone emerged from her room at the sounds from the hall, freezing as she saw the blood trail leading to Mistoffelees' chambers. She hesitated, knowing she wouldn't be permitted in those rooms yet, and turned just in time to catch hold of one of the younger girls who was trying to dart downt he hall. Hearing agitated voices and calls for a doctor she whirled the girl around, "What happened?"

The waitress' eyes were wide as she shook her head, "I don't know, but there was blood, and the boss, and he..."

Her gaze darting toward Mistoffelees' door again, she pulled the girl with her in the opposite direction, "Everything will be fine. Go find the other girls, step up and calm them down, alright? You're going to learn on your feet tonight what it takes to work here. You saw nothing. You heard nothing. Everything is fine, and nothing has happened. Understood?"

Nodding and looking faint, the girl opened her mouth, "But..."

"No. No buts. You want a shot at what Bombalurina and I do, you listen to me right now. You can't panic. Not where others can see you. Breathe. Everything is completely normal. I'm trusting you to calm down the other girls while I find Bomba, can you do that for me?" Grids brushed a lock of the girl's hair behind her ear when the younger whore nodded. "Good girl. We'll make a courtesan of you yet. Now go see what you can do. Find us if you need us, alright? But only if you need us before opening."

"We'll open tonight?"

"We'll open tonight, and tomorrow night, and every night 'til doomsday until the boss says otherwise. This means nothing. This is nothing. Remember that. It will keep you alive." With those words Grids left her side and slipped through the chaos until she spotted Bombalurina, "Bomba!"

"And nights like this remind us why we have such a high turnover rate," Bomba said, barely containing her anger. "What have you heard?"

"Angelique said there was blood, something with the boss. There's a blood trail going past my room to Mistoffelees' door."

"I did hear it was Mistoffelees," Bomba said, voice dropping. "But nothing on why or what?"

Grids shook her head, "I barely got as much as I just told you. Someone's called a doctor by now, I hope. I've half a mind to see if we can get in there to start cleaning whatever wounds he has, but..."

"Better not risk it, at least not both of us," Bomba bit her lip and tried not to rant or rail. "God damn it."

"If it's bad enough for as much blood as I saw in the hall..." Her dark eyes sought out Bomba's gaze, "He won't be able to continue on the floor. Not with more scars..."

Bomba barely managed to keep her temper in, grabbing Griddlebone's arm and pulling her to an alcove. They weren't still entirely alone there, but it was better. "That man that kept coming in here. What did he want?" she demanded. She'd know Grids had gone with him, but remembered the first night when he had done business with Jones. Before becoming one of Jones' procession's, she'd seen gang business before.

Griddlebone glanced around, her voice dropping further as she spoke quickly, "He's trying to find a way to get rid of Jones. I don't know how close he is, or if he's got a snowflake's chance in hell."

"Then we had better hope he has," Bomba replied, voice just as low as she looked around again. "Because this isn't sustainable if any of us actually expect to get out intact."

"I-I know," she swallowed hard, her gaze moving to where she could see Angelique doing a damn good job of holding it together. "I just hope he manages it before whatever's happened heals enough for Mistoffelees to take clients..."

The red head's expression was entirely closed off at that. "We need to get the area cleaned up," she said, each word measured. "You should go into the room, see what you can do there. More than one of us will be too much attention but I think you should manage."

Griddlebone, for all her words to the younger girl earlier, looked more than slightly unsteady as she nodded, "I-I'll see if I can get in."

Bomba rested a hand on her shoulder. "We'll get through this," she said, not sure if she meant it but damn well hoping it.

The shorter dancer nodded once, "Of course we will. Come on, we'd better see to the mess." Nodding, Bomba stepped back, already ordering some of the younger girls to organize, both to keep the youngest out of the way and for the others to help.

Griddlebone left her to it, slipping back into the hall to the private rooms, hesitating at the sight of the blood, but making her way down the hall to Mistoffelees' room and opening the door slightly to slip inside.

There was one guard inside the room, who arched a brow at her. "Here to check or clean?" he grunted.

"Both. Check the damage and clean the cuts so that the doctor need not be here longer than necessary."

The man nodded, waving at her to do what she liked, retaining his seat where he could see the door.

Grids moved over, steeling herself for the sight and setting to work carefully removing Mistoffelees' shirt so she could access his wounds.

Glass had embedded itself in several points along his shoulder neck, and even several cuts scattered along the left side of his chest and cheek. The angle of the blow had shattered crystal everywhere.

Her hands stilled in their motion. She'd seen her share of injuries inflicted on the workers, treated a handful of them, helped with the ones on Mistoffelees' back, but this... Griddlebone wasn't even sure where to start with cleaning the crystal out. Finding a cloth and a bowl which she filled with water she carefully started with the cuts on his face. The dark-haired woman bit her lip, there was no way he wouldn't end up in the back room with the scars this promised.

Sometime later, when she was still trying to work on the glass splinters and clean the wounds, Mistoffelees shifted, starting to swim back to consciousness.

Grids paused, looking up at his face, "Shh, Misto, I need you to hold still."

He hadn't been fully awake when he heard those words, startling as soon as he processed them and regretting the movement. She ran a calming hand over his brow, "Shh, this is going to hurt like hell, but I have to get this glass out."

He nodded slightly, barely moving his head that time but showing he actually understood. Mentally he was trying to process what hurt.

Her voice dropped to a murmur, "We're not alone, but what happened? If you can talk."

"He..." Mistoffelees sucked in a deep breath and whimpered. "Coricopat is dead," he said finally and the sounds hurt. "And he broke his decanter over my shoulder."

"D-dead? He told you that? Oh Misto..." She carefully continued her work, having finally reached the point of contact, she could see the way the wounds radiated out from there.

Mistoffelees didn't respond for a long moment. "He told me that," he said, voice low and hollow.

Grids paused in her tending of his wounds to glance toward where Jones' guard was. She reached up to rest a hand briefly on the other's uninjured cheek, "Is...is it possible that he was lying to you?"

"I don't know," he murmured, still looking steadfast at the wall. "But either way, that means little to me now."

"Means..." She drew a deep breath, but turned her attention back to his cuts. "You're giving up."

"No," he said. "Maybe. I don't know yet. But whether I give up or not," he finally turned his head to look at her. "I am well aware of what just happened. I can brush off scars and act as damned confident as I want, but do you really think that would work here?"

Grids couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, "No. I don't think it would. I... oh Misto."

"I provoked him," he said, looking at the wall again. "I shouldn't have. Not because he was right, but because he has the power here, doesn't he? And god knows my status has never helped my case."

"He has the power, but you provoking him hardly justifies this," she murmured.

"No," he agreed and started to shake. "It never would. But that doesn't matter here." With those words, he felt like he really was just about giving up.

Grids closed her eyes at that, swallowing hard, "It...no, it doesn't."

Taking a breath and hating that it hurt, Mistoffelees shifted slightly, realizing he couldn't move but it would hurt more. "Will they call a doctor?" he asked.

"I don't know. I thought someone had, but the doctor should have been here by now..."

The small man swallowed hard. "Oh." The last few years had made him used to pain, but it was starting to become harder to think.

She managed not to say the next thing that came into her mind, "Maybe there was a hold up on the way here."

"Maybe," he managed. "Can... can you at least see about bandages or painkillers?"

She hesitated, but nodded, "I'll see what I can do." Setting the cloth and bowl aside, having finally gotten all the glass out that she could see, Griddlebone rose, moving over to the door. She glanced back at Mistoffelees before slipping out, hoping she'd be allowed to find bandages and something for the pain.

Chapter Text

Angelique hesitated outside of Jones' office. The girls always drew straws at the beginning of the evening for who would have to let the boss know if there was a client who wished to speak with him and tonight she'd drawn the short one. She swallowed and knocked on the door. Hearing no response she tried again, and then a third time before finally opening the door.

She saw the man at his desk, unnaturally still. Making her cautious way across the room, the waitress spoke quietly to alert him of her presence. Getting no response she reached his side, freezing at the sight of blood. It took her barely a handful of seconds to bolt for the door, trying to find Bombalurina or Griddlebone and biting back a scream.

Bomba approached the hallway, having just smuggled food to Mistoffelees and looked over his bandages. It had been two days, and she wasn't sure if they were healing like they were supposed to or not. "Angelique?" she asked, seeing the girl and the wild eyed look of panic about her.

The girl's breathing was quick and she tried to form a coherent sentence, "J-Jones. He...I had to go let him know...and he...he's...there's blood."

Bombalurina moved past her with quick steps, entering the office and looking the man over. She tried not to smile as she checked for a pulse and found none. "Call the police," she told the girl. "Get everyone together and close down the front. Get Grids to help you get things closed."

Angelique nodded quickly, scurrying off to do as she was told, relaying to Griddlebone the instructions as soon as she saw the other woman.

Moving around the office, Bomba considered it from several different angles, not moving anything but considering it carefully.

o-o-o-o

Half an hour later or so, the police officer Alonzo O'Neal arrived with several officers serving as back up. Despite being young, he was well known for his excellent skills at solving crimes. He looked rather hesitant about the stairs that lead to the club, sure they were nothing more than a glorified fire escape, but once up them doffed his hat as he entered the club.

There were few lights that weren't actually black lights, but an effort had been made to light the main room with some normal bulbs, most of the employees gathered in the front.

Alonzo considered the various girls, women, and boys and men of the room, hat in front of him. His skin was splotched and patched, an obvious white spot around one eye from vitligo, which he'd had since birth. The lack of pigmentation made him look unbalanced and unkempt, even though each hair was carefully slicked back. His appearance made people underestimate him, which he usually used to his advantage.

Except he had no idea how to exactly react to a club and brothel.

Griddlebone rose from where she'd perched herself on one of the stools by the bar. She glanced toward Bomba as she made her cautious way toward the officer, "Sir."

"Ma'am," he replied with a nod, holding his cap in front of him. "We heard there was a murder here?"

"Yes, sir. We've left the room as it was found, if you'll follow me?"

He nodded, following her with several of his men, as the rest started talking to the assembled employees. "Is everyone in that room?" he asked. "Everyone that lives and works here?"

"No," Bomba answered, trailing after Alonzo and his men.

"No?" he asked, glancing back at her in some surprise.

"There is a man, boy really, still in his room," Bomba answered, eyes cold. "He is too injured to move."

Griddlebone stopped outside the office, pushing the door open, but not entering, "In here." She glanced toward Bomba, trying to figure out whether to stay there or to go to Mistoffelees.

"Injured?" Alonzo asked, pausing at the door. His first thought was if the boy had been hurt in a scuffle with Jones.

"Two days ago," Bomba added and the police officer's eyes widened.

"He is not in the hospital?"

"Do you honestly think he's even seen a doctor?" Griddlebone asked icily.

Alonzo looked between them before motioning to one of his men with orders to call the hospital and looked at Griddlebone. "If you don't mind of course?"

"He's needed a hospital for two days, please do. As long as you don't mind, I'd like to accompany him. You'll know where to find me," she replied.

He hesitated a moment. "I will need statements from you," he said. "Witnesses to your movements, things like that. But yes, you may go with him for now as long as another officer goes too."

Griddlebone hesitated, but nodded, "Very well. I don't want him alone there." She glanced at Bomba, making sure the other would be alright with her leaving the mess at the club with the redhead.

Bomba nodded to her, honestly more concerned with Mistoffelees' wounds than dealing with the law. Griddlebone excused herself quietly and headed for Mistoffelees room to wait for the medics.

o-o-o-o

Macavity glanced around the sterile room and back to Coricopat. "You seem to be doing fine," he remarked.

His friend was propped up in the hospital bed, his left arm in a sling to keep his shoulder still while it recovered from the bullet wound, "Getting better every day. The doctor's say I could viably go home within the next day or two, if you'll let me."

"Me?" Mac protested, face innocent. "I'd prefer you not stepping back into danger, you know."

"And when is there a chance that I won't be and therefore can go home and see whether or not I even have a job after you've so effectively made it look like I died...in front of a classroom of my students no less."

"I'm sure the university will be very pleased to have you back," Mac shrugged. "Your students too. I already wrote a letter to the dean, you know. He owes me a favor anyway."

"Alright, good. I don't want to know what favor, but good. When will I be returning to teaching in that case, Mac?" Coricopat looked his friend in the eye.

"Not rightly sure," Mac said with a shrug. "Depends on when you heal up proper."

"I already told you the doctors said two days at the longest from now, if I take it ea-" He stopped, blinking, "Wait, when I heal? Not when Jones is... did you manage it then?"

"I think so," he replied, grinning suddenly. "I need the confirmation though, so don't go celebrating yet."

The brunet couldn't help the smile that graced his features at that, "Still... thank you."

"Thank me when I'm sure it's done," Mac returned. "Look, you thirsty or anything? Am I allowed to give you anything not hospital oriented? Cos I'm thirsty and I think there are machines for that."

"I probably shouldn't have anything beyond water at the moment. Go ahead and go get something for yourself though. I'll be here when you get back."

"I hope you ain't moving," Mac said, offering him another grin before slipping from the room.

Coricopat rolled his eyes, but settled back, picking up the book he'd been reading.

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone had stepped out of Mistoffelees' room for a few minutes, going to the vending machine. So far she'd been able to convince a charming young intern to buy her something, simply by conning him into believing that the machine had eaten her last dollar bill and she had left her credit card at home. Regardless of a lack of anyone likely to be around, she needed to get out of the hospital room, just for a moment and see if there was anyone who might have information on what exactly Mistoffelees would be dealing with while in the hospital and the aftermath for recovery.

Approaching the vending machine, Macavity stopped, blinking. "Hey," he said, recognizing the dark haired woman and only now realizing he didn't know her name.

Griddlebone startled, her dark eyes darting up to his face, "Oh, hello. What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on Cor. What're you doin' here?"

"Cor..? I'm here watching over Mistoffelees."

"Mistoffelees?" Mac repeated, as if absorbing that. "Wait, he's here?"

She nodded once, "Coricopat's alive?"

"Yeah?" Mac offered and paused. "Is Jones?"

Griddlebone shook her head, "Jones is dead. I left Bomba to deal with the police when they called the medics for Misto." She still didn't look like she quite believed him, "You mean to tell me your friend is alive and there was no way to get word of that fact?"

"It's not been two days," Macavity protested. "How was I supposed to sneak word into Jones' place?" He hesitated. "Why is he here though?"

"Because he stood up to Jones two days ago when the bastard told him Coricopat was dead. Jones broke a crystal decanter over his shoulder."

Shoulders tensing, Macavity gaped at her a long moment. "I'm sorry," he said, realizing it was automatic and would help nothing.

She looked him in the eye for a moment before nodding once, "I need to go tell him the truth. If you'll excuse me."

"Y-yeah," he said and paused. "Do you want Cor with you?"

"Send him to Misto's room when you feel like it. Room 216," she answered.

"Alright," he said, voice soft and nodded. "See then huh?"

Griddlebone nodded, turning and heading back to Mistoffelees' room. "I don't even know your name!" he called after her and shook his head to himself before powering it back to Coricopat's room sans any drink.

o-o-o-o

When Grids returned to Mistoffelees' room, the young man was trying to convince a doctor that he was doing fine, even as the doctor was attempting to explain to him that several of the cuts had been infected since they hadn't been treated properly and he was in fact far from fine.

Griddlebone moved over to Mistoffelees' side, "Misto, listen to him, please? We need you to get well."

"I'm fine," he protested again. "I don't need to stay here."

The doctor, Cohen, shook his head, "Nyet," he said in Russian. "You do need to stay here, and you will until I say otherwise. The infection is still being fought off, and I wish to be certain that it is gone before you are released."

Mistoffelees scowled, the line of his shoulder's tensing. "Can't you just give me antibiotics and let me leave?"

"Not without a day or two of observation. The damage to the muscle on your shoulder is extensive, you are fortunate your collarbone is not broken as well."

The smaller man's expression didn't change. "Fine," he ground out finally.

The doctor nodded once, double checking the chart at the foot of Mistoffelees' bed before he left. Grids sighed, "He's doing what he thinks is best."

"It's what he thinks is best," Mistoffelees said with a scowl, looking at the wall.

"Misto...the doctor's trying to help."

"Help I don't really need nor want," Mistoffelees protested.

"You do need it, we weren't able to help you with the cuts much and they can here." Griddlebone shook her head again, "Regardless, a couple more days here isn't the end of the world."

Taking a deep breath, he continued looking away. "I don't like hospitals," he murmured.

Grids moved over to sit on the edge of his bed, running a hand over his brow, "I...I'm sorry. You'll be out in a few days probably? And free as well."

"With nowhere to go," Mistoffelees mumbled.

She shook her head at that, "That's not entirely true. I...I ran into Coricopat's friend in the hall before I came in here. Cori's not dead, Misto."

For a long moment the smaller man didn't move. "What?"

"Coricopat isn't dead," she repeated. "He's here. He survived."

"It took you that long to bring it up?" he gaped at her, and suddenly started scrambling at the covers and IV that was in his arm, trying to figure out a way to stand up.

She reached out a hand to hold him steady, "Misto, wait, you can't just go out!"

"I have to see him," he said. "Or I'm not going to believe it."

There was a sound from the door, which caused Grids to look up. Coricopat stood there, his left arm in the sling and his right holding his IV stand, "Mistoffelees?"

The smaller man froze, just staring at him. "But... you..."

The brunet moved carefully over, sitting down in the spot Griddlebone had quickly vacated, "I'm here. I'm alright."

"But, you were dead," he said. "He said you were dead and..." his face crumpled up as he looked at the other.

Coricopat reached out with his good hand to cover Mistoffelees' hand, "But I'm not. I'm here. We're going to be alright."

"We," Mistoffelees started, the cuts on his face starting to pull and he tried to smooth out his expression. "You're here."

The older man nodded, "I'm here. And so are you. God, I..."

"Don't die again," Mistoffelees said, simply. "Don't you dare."

"I don't intend to," Coricopat murmured in response.

"Good," Mistoffelees managed, covering the bottom half of his face with his free hand and just staring at the other.

Tracing a gentle hand over the uninjured side of Mistoffelees' face, Coricopat offered him a faint smile, "God, I was so worried about you."

"I'm fine," he replied, automatic.

That earned a disbelieving look, "How?"

"I am," he protested again and then deflated slightly. "I will be."

The professor nodded slightly, "Have you spoken with the doctor?"

"Infection," he said. "Probably scaring. He wants to keep me here to make sure the infection's leaving."

"It's probably a good idea," Coricopat murmured. "I'm here for another couple of days at least at this point as well."

Bringing his free hand up, Mistoffelees ran it along Coricopat's brace lightly. "I don't want to be here," he said, voice low.

"You'll be able to leave soon, I'm sure."

He paused a long moment again, just watching Coricopat. "Hopefully. Not... not that I have anywhere but as long as it's not here."

Coricopat hesitated for a moment, "I...have a spare room in my apartment if you need somewhere to stay."

The smaller man's eyes snapped to Coricopat's face. "W-what?"

"My apartment's two bedroom, if you'd like. There's a spare room you can have."

"A spare room?" Mistoffelees asked finally, still gaping at him and trying to figure out exactly what the spare room meant.

Coricopat nodded slowly, "Yes. A spare room. That is, if you want it."

"I-I suppose," Mistoffelees said faintly, unsure how to react.

"I'm...sure it would be possible to find you somewhere else if you prefer..."

"That," he said quickly and paused. "That wasn't how I meant it. I just..." He slid his free hand over to rest on the back of Coricopat's neck, just enjoying the touch. "I just don't know."

Coricopat offered a faint smile, "Well, you've time to figure things out."

"I suppose so," he said, voice soft, trying to get used to the idea himself.

"I-" he broke off as the doctor entered the room.

Pausing at the sight of his other patient in the room, Doctor Cohen blinked for a moment behind his glasses, "I am going to assume that I have each of your friends to thank for this?"

"Only if it's sincere thanks," Mistoffelees replied.

"Mm. I take this to mean you know one another." He shook his head, "I have some things to see to and then I'll be back to check on you again."

"Yes we know each other," Mistoffelees said quietly. "And you don't need to check on me."

"If I am seeing to having either of you move rooms, I will need to return."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said, voice faint. "Okay."

"If moving one of you is not against your wishes of course," Cohen added, eyes sweeping over the pair again.

The smaller man looked at Coricopat at that, feeling out of his depth. Coricopat shook his head, "If you think it will be alright, sir, then I don't believe we object."

o-o-o-o

A few days later, Coricopat pushed the door to his apartment open, glancing at Mistoffelees, "How's your shoulder feeling today?"

"Better," he replied, body language small as he looked around again. He'd been able to stop by the club before coming over here, collecting his few personal effects and clothes. The place was mostly cleared out except a few of the older whores still trying to find someplace to go and police.

Coricopat bit his lower lip before crossing the main room and opening the door to the spare room, "The room hasn't got much in it, but it's here. Can I get anything for you? Something to drink or eat?"

"I, water?" he offered, looking down at his bags before around at the room again.

Nodding slightly, the taller man hesitated, "You can set your things down if you like."

Mistoffelees finally set his bags down on the bed, looking around still at the room as if marveling at it. He paused when he noticed a poster put up, walking over to it and tracing along the lines. "Is that...?"

Coricopat stopped at the door to the room, a glass of water in his hand, "Picasso's bull."

"You," Mistoffelees paused a long moment before turning. "You actually set this room up for me? You planned on me coming here?"

"I...put up a poster, cleared a few books out and dusted it. If you wanted it, it was here for you." The professor finally nodded, "Yes, I set it up for you, but I didn't know if you would come."

"But you wanted me too," Mistoffelees said, stepping up to him. "I didn't realize you'd planned this."

"Planned...?" Coricopat had half a mind to take a step back.

"That," the smaller man paused and looked down. "No, I mean, I hadn't realized you'd wanted me here enough you'd thought it out. I mean, I don't know, I thought it was just a guest room? That you'd gone through the trouble to make it more... mine based off a comment I made. I just..." he shook his head. "No one's wanted me in a long time."

The taller man seemed to relax just a bit at that, shaking his head, "I do want you. I...yes, I planned a space that you could call your own. You can make any changes to it you like, as long as they don't violate my rental agreement."

"Okay," Mistoffelees said, voice small and unsure.

Coricopat hesitated for a moment before offering the other the glass of water in his hand. Taking it, Mistoffelees offered him a faint smile. "It was just unexpected," he said quietly. "I don't know why but it was."

"Well, you're welcome to make it a home for as long as you like."

"Thank you," he said softly and meant it. The idea of a room of his own and a place of his own was fantastic but...it left the question of where he and Coricopat stood unanswered. Sipping the water, he moved back to sit on the side of the bed, still watching the other. "Will you return to work soon?"

"Probably this next week. I've got to rearrange my plans for my schedule this quarter to see what can be cut, and I'll start again at the beginning of next week."

"Would, would you need help?" Mistoffelees asked, trying to figure out any way to actually find something to do.

"I..." Coricopat considered that, unsure. "Possibly. Another thing to consider is if you want to see about completing your education at all?"

"Completing-" Mistoffelees blinked, the idea having not really occurred to him. "I'm five years behind. I didn't even go to high school."

"There's the possibility of studying for a GED regardless. It could take time, but would give you the equivalent of a high school diploma."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said softly, taking another sip of water for something to do with his hands. "I... I don't even know what funds I'd have. I mean, I remember someone mentioning being Jones' only relative, I might get the bulk of his money but I don't know. I could have nothing."

"Then perhaps wait to see how that pans out before you start making decisions?"

"I, alright," Mistoffelees agreed with a small nod. "I mean, I think it also depends on when they wrap up the investigation. I mean, they don't suspect me," he laughed, the sound bitter. "Considering I couldn't much move at the time. But a lot of the rest of it..."

"I suppose the question comes down to, what do you think you want to do?" Coricopat asked softly.

"I don't even know," he said after a moment's pause.

"Maybe it would be best to see about getting settled in for a couple nights and then considering it?"

"Yeah," Mistoffelees nodded and paused, reality hitting him in the face. "What do you even do at night?" he asked quite suddenly.

Coricopat blinked for a moment at that, "What?"

"I mean..." he shrugged a little helplessly. "I'm used to dancing and, well, having lots of sex. What do you do with free time?"

"I...Well, I read, I do some work, watch a movie once in a while. Mac occasionally drops by and insists on dragging me out for a drink. And about midnight I usually head to bed to sleep."

"Midnight?" Mistoffelees repeated.

"Usually. Sometimes later, if I have a morning meeting sometimes earlier."

The smaller man paused and nodded. "I'm sure... I could adjust to that."

Coricopat shrugged, "I'm hardly asking or expecting you to conform to my schedule."

"Still," Mistoffelees started. "Going to bed at six am every morning is only really useful if you're in an occupation that works during the night," he said, voice carefully neutral. "What about us?"

"I...us?" The taller man managed not to freeze at that question, still trying to sort it out himself.

"Yeah, us," Mistoffelees said, watching his face closely.

Moving over to sit down on the foot of the bed, Coricopat shook his head, "I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't?" Mistoffelees asked, feeling his stomach turn over and free hand coming up to cover the healing scars on his neck without thinking about it.

"That came out wrong. I mean, I'm not sure. We've got to figure out where we stand with each other all over again."

"I know where I stand with you," Mistoffelees protested.

"But I'm not sure I know where I stand with you," came the quiet response.

Hazel eyes blinked but he carefully kept any expression out of them. "Oh."

"I..." Coricopat drew a shaky breath, "I love you. At least I'm pretty sure I do. And I want you to be happy, somehow. I just...I think I know where I stand, but I'm not sure."

The smaller man considered him a long moment before nodding slightly. "Can I help?"

"Well, since the confusion is about you, probably. Though I'm still not sure how."

Swallowing, Mistoffelees thought for a moment before leaning over and kissing the taller man lightly. Coricopat responded instinctively, leaning in to kiss the other gently.

The dark haired man tried to keep it light as long as he could imagine, but he wasn't used to soft or gentle kisses, deepening it before he thought about it. After another moment, the taller man drew back, his hand resting against Mistoffelees' uninjured cheek.

"Help or worse now?" Mistoffelees asked, offering him a smile.

"I-I...Helped somewhat." Though it was wreaking the resolve he'd set for himself when he'd asked the other to come live at the apartment.

"You don't sound so sure," Mistoffelees replied, a hint of teasing entering his voice again finally.

Coricopat smiled faintly at that, "It helped."

"Good," Mistoffelees said, dropping his gaze.

Setting a gentle hand on the other's cheek for a moment, Coricopat rose and turned for the door.

Mistoffelees blinked rapidly at that. "Where are you going?"

"I was going to make dinner?"

"Oh," he said and nodded. "Of course."

The taller man offered him a bit of a smile, "You could join me if you like."

"I have no idea how to cook," he said.

"I can teach you if you'd be interested in learning."

The smaller man paused for a moment before rising. "Okay."

Smiling faintly, Coricopat exited the room, heading for the kitchen. He really just needed to not interact with Mistoffelees in either of the bedrooms for a while. Mistoffelees trailed after him, feeling like he was missing something.

"Anything in particular you feel like having for dinner tonight?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," he said, leaning against the counter.

The other nodded, locating the ingredients for beef stroganoff and digging out the pans he would need as well, "Fair enough." The smaller man smiled at that, watching him prepare the meal.

Chapter Text

Macavity was so distracted by work he'd long since stopped paying attention to the time. He'd finally turned Officer O'Neal onto another gang's assassin, and the investigation had progressed enough that it looked like everything was going according to plan.

Griddlebone hesitated in the hall outside Macavity's office door before tapping lightly on it. His head snapped up and then to the clock and he started swearing, making his way over and throwing the door open. "Hi," he said, trying to sound suave and casual.

She offered him a smile, "Hello."

"You ready to go out tonight then?" he asked, not ready himself at all.

"As soon as you are," she answered, grinning a bit.

"Might be another minute," he said with a sheepish smile and a returning grin.

That garnered a faint laugh, "Quite alright."

Macavity moved quickly through the office, finishing his half-done orders and tasks and almost ready when his secretary beeps him on his ear piece. "Yes?" he asks, tilting his head to better hear.

"There's a man to see you," the secretary replied, voice amused. "He's positively irate."

"Irate?" Macavity asked, sliding behind his desk and palming his pistol.

"Yes," the voice on the other end continued. "Genghis I believe was what he growled when I asked him who he was on his way past."

Macavity couldn't help but grin then. "And he's only irate?"

"Yup," the male voice said. "On your scale, I'd say 53. And he's not armed in any apparent manner. Shall I let the guards on the third door let him through?"

"Please do," Mac all but purred in response, turning his earpiece off and looking back at Griddlebone. "There's a visitor on his way. It'll just take a moment if you don't mind?"

She nodded slightly, "Of course. Business takes precedence."

She no sooner finished speaking than a small, slender man of Asian descent who possessed striking blue eyes entered the office, "Macavity Hollister!"

"Genghis," Mac said, far less formal and looking entirely at ease behind his desk.

"You set up one of my assassins as the fall guy for your latest scheme! Do you have any idea how hard it is to off a rat once the police have them?"

"Extremely difficult, I hear," Macavity replied, still serene.

"Damn right it is. And now I have to find someone else I trust so little that I can feed false information to them with! You do realize the only reason you're breathing is because Jones isn't, right?" The man was probably half Macavity's size, but he didn't seem to register or care about that fact at the moment.

"I am entirely aware of that," Macavity said with a nod. "Think of that fact before you complain too much about one lowly snitch."

Genghis' eyes narrowed, "You ever use any of my men again and any form of truce or neutrality we have is null and void, Hollister. Are we clear?"

"Entirely. But I don't think I'll be killing Jones again so it's sorta a moot point."

"Just wanted to be sure we were clear on where this left us. I'll let this one pass, but it's not good business to even have the lowest rungs cut out without your knowledge." He glanced in Griddlebone's direction and his brow arched, but he said nothing further before turning and sweeping out of the office.

"Nice doing business with you," Mac said, waving after him and paging the secretary to let him know to let Genghis out.

Grids stood blinking at the door, finally letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, "What was that?"

"That was the man who's lackey I put in the firing range over Jones," he said with a shrug. "Got the police to pin it on one of his low levels."

"And...you expected him to not kill you for it?"

"He's hated Jones for years," Mac shrugged. "I mean, that would never have flown if I'd tried it with say, one of Growltiger's men. But Genghis? He owed me a favor and I just did him the massive favor of killing Jones. I figured he wouldn't mind losing someone so incompetent I'm sure the man was planning to get rid of him anyway," Mac said with a shrug and a massive grin.

The dark-haired woman nodded hesitantly, "I see."

His grin almost faltered but he shook his head. "Don't worry. I don't usually do things like that unless I'm sure of the result."

"I'm sure. Guess it just startled me."

Macavity nodded. "Can be startling at times, I suppose," he murmured, referring more to his life in general.

"Shall...shall we go?" She asked, changing the subject.

"If you still have an appetite," he said, tone light but questioning.

Griddlebone offered him a smile, "I do. It takes more than that to put me off of dinner."

"Then I believe I'm ready if you are," he said, rising and holding an arm out to her with an arched brow.

She hesitated at that, but slipped her arm through his, "I do believe I am."

o-o-o-o

A little over a week after Mistoffelees had come to live in the apartment, Coricopat was in the kitchen working on some curried chicken for dinner. His resolve to wait, and keep his hands off of the other was waning even due to his best attempts. The last thing he wanted was for Mistoffelees to view anything between them as a form of repayment for Coricopat giving him a place to live, and until he was sure that wasn't a probability the older man was trying to keep himself firm on the subject. Each time a kiss deepened past where he felt safe in that decision he drew away and found papers to grade, or a meal to make, or something to clean or organize.

Which was driving Mistoffelees insane. Part of him was sure there was a reason for this, but considering Coricopat's insistence that he loved him, and considering the other man had once been more than willing to have sex, he couldn't quite figure out what was going on. He might not always have enjoyed being forced into sex every night, but he'd gotten used to it, and quite frankly enjoyed it more than enough.

He sat, clicking away in annoyance at Coricopat's computer terminal in the living room. "There," he declared finally. "I got those classes set up online." He was trying not to get snappish with the older man at all, but felt like there was more tension between them now then there ever had been before.

Coricopat came to the door of the kitchen, having just gotten the chicken into the sauce, "Good. It's something that could be rather good all told." He'd been half conscious of the force with which his computer had been being treated, but it had been less noticeable over the sounds of the pans in the kitchen. Mistoffelees' shorter tone, however, was a good deal more apparent, "Is there anything the matter?"

"The matter?" Mistoffelees repeated, tilting his head to the side and bringing his right arm up to rest against the bandages still along his left. Most of the cuts along his cheek, neck, sides and lower arm had healed, but the infected cuts were still bandaged and he had mostly been wearing sleeveless shirts the past week because of it.

Hesitating a moment and glancing back at the stove, Coricopat finally came over, "Yes, the matter. Beyond the happenings of the last few weeks. I could hear the keyboard from the kitchen while you were getting those classes dealt with."

"Oh," he shrugged his right shoulder. "Just, things. This past week. I don't think there really needs to be more the matter."

"This past week?" The professor ran over the occurrences of the last week or so, trying to find some source of this. He couldn't seem to find anything since the other had arrived to set anything off, "I…Have I done something?"

"More of a lack of doing than doing," Mistoffelees replied, eyes flittering up to his face and back down. "It's been a long few weeks, okay? Between my uncle dying, being in the hospital, lacking any job or source of income or things to do, not that I need income anymore considering the police decided to hand over basically my uncle's entirely, ill-gotten fortune to me but there's nothing to occupy me like there used to be and you… I don't even know what you're doing."

Coricopat took a step backward into the kitchen, far enough to shut off the burner and move the pan off the heat as he processed, returning to his initial position after a brief moment, "What I'm doing? I'm not entirely certain I understand."

The shorter man narrowed his eyes at the other. "You don't?" he repeated slowly. "The question is, what are you doing? Because so far you've done nothing except… I mean, alright, not nothing, you offered me a room and tried, I mean, succeeded in making me feel welcome in there. It's everywhere else though. The moment I try to get close you… you do that. You retreat in the kitchen or there's something to be done."

"I…" The older man glanced around, not consciously looking for a retreat but certainly appearing like it, "I don't know. I mean, I suppose I do to some extent, but I'm not certain how to explain it. I don't…I don't want you to feel like, well, like you have any sort of obligation to me."

"But I do," Mistoffelees said and paused as he started to figure out what Coricopat meant. "Oh. You, what, think I'm going to believe any sort of sex or physical intimacy is payment for letting me stay here?"

Blinking at the other for a long moment as he tried to gather his thoughts again, Coricopat shook his head slightly, "Not entirely? I wouldn't do you that discourtesy, but there were moments where perhaps part of that crossed my mind."

"Look," Mistoffelees started and after a pause rose to be on a slightly more even plane with the other. "I mean, yes, I owe you, I'm obligated to you. You've given me a favor I could probably never repay by handing me a place to live when I needed one, and a safe place to stay. But… You say you love me. I certainly desire you. Yet you constantly try to push me away and act like, what, we're just flat mates?"

"That…I…I don't want us to live like that. I know I haven't seemed to show that much, if at all, this past week, but I don't want it to be a permanent state. I just am still not certain of where we stand with one another."

"Alright," the shorter said after a moment where he stepped up to be in Coricopat's space, tilting his head back to look at him. "Where do we stand with each other?"

"I-I do believe I just said I'm not certain of that," Coricopat forced himself not to take a step back. Damnit this was Mistoffelees, and acting like he had that first night, or even the second, was pointless.

Biting his lip, Mistoffelees barely managed not to roll his eyes. "Then where do you stand, or desire, to stand with me?"

"I…I love you. That much I know. I desire you, as much as I ever have, if not more. Heart, mind, body, and soul." He hesitated before reaching up to place a hand on the smaller man's cheek, "I still desperately wish to show you how very much I do desire you and who you are."

Eyes widening, Mistoffelees took one half shuddering breath. "You've not been doing such a good job of that," he managed, still leaning into the touch.

"I know. And for that I am deeply sorry. I just, we're in a new arena, a new stage, and I'm still catching my bearings. As much as I wanted this, as much as I acted as though I expected it, it's caught me off guard and I'm still trying to find my footing. I do love you, and I want to do better by you than I have been, previously and this week."

"I…" Mistoffelees swallowed and paused a long moment. He'd seen the word love abused and misused and otherwise destroyed over the past several years too much to ever really feel like he could say it and mean it. Understanding it when Coricopat said and meant it was entirely different from saying it himself. "I care about you," he managed after another moment. "I cherish who you are and I desire you so much for it. There's no word in the language I could say to convey that. No simple package like anyone else uses. But I do."

Coricopat's grey eyes widened at that, his thumb tracing over Mistoffelees' cheekbone for a moment before he leaned down to gently capture the other's lips in a tender kiss. For a moment Mistoffelees allowed the light touch, arching up into it before he deepened the motion, pulling the taller man down with a hand on the back of his neck. Startling slightly at that, the professor didn't pull away for the first time in over a week. Leaning down into this kiss, his arm circling Mistoffelees' waist and pulling him closer, Coricopat's hand on the other's cheek moved to run down his arm.

Shifting into the touch, Mistoffelees' other hand pulled at Coricopat's back, pressing them closer together. The brunet responded to the touch, arching against Mistoffelees' hand. One of his hands moved to trace over the smaller man's spine as he deepened the kiss.

Finally, the shorter man drew back with a deep breath and a faint smirk, before tripping Coricopat onto the couch. Coricopat's eyes widened from where he abruptly found himself on his back on the couch. He smirked up at Mistoffelees before pulling the other down on top of him, one hand tracing, feather-light, over the scars on the other's left shoulder and moving down past them along his chest and stomach to the hem of his shirt.

"So you do remember how to do this," Mistoffelees teased as he leaned for another kiss, plastering himself along the other.

Coricopat chuckled against the kiss, his hands slipping beneath the hem of the shirt to trace along Mistoffelees' bare skin, "I could claim muscle memory, but I suppose that would be a lie." He leaned in for another nipping kiss before arching his neck enough to trail kisses down the right side of Mistoffelees' neck.

"I'd have to call it a lie," Mistoffelees agreed, tilting his head back for a moment to allow the kisses before twisting himself around to pay attention on Coricopat's collarbone and neck before starting to unbutton the other's shirt, paying each button particular attention and leaving a kiss on the skin after each one came undone.

Whatever Coricopat may have intended to say was abruptly banished from his mind. He let out a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering for a moment, "G-god, Mistoffelees." Another moment passed before he was capable of any major motion, and he finally tilted the other's head up away from his skin long enough to kiss him hard.

Grinning into the kiss, Mistoffelees melted back down against the taller, allowing the movements to carry them away.

A white later, he carefully wedged himself against the back of the couch on his right side, left arm loosely draped along Coricopat and lightly running it up and down his skin. "Feel better at all?"

Offering the smaller man a lazy smile, Coricopat nodded, "Yes, quite a bit." His left hand moved from where it had been on the other's hip to run through Mistoffelees' dark hair, "You?"

The older got a lazy, contented smile. "Better," Mistoffelees agreed and settled down for a moment again, just considering the other. "I do care about you," he said, trying not to sound stilted but a little unsure what else to say. "And I want you and this. Okay?"

"I know. Or rather, I understand," he tilted his head enough to gently kiss Mistoffelees' brow. "Thank you."

Mistoffelees scrunched his face up slightly but smoothed it back into a smile. "Thank you? You're thanking me for this?"

"No. I'm thanking you for being you. For being an amazing, strong, capable young man who cares for me and doesn't mind that I care for him as well."

"I don't think I could mind you caring for me," Mistoffelees said, voice faint before he lifted his head. "Do you think the food survived?"

"I took it off the heat before we started, but I don't know. It would probably be a good idea to check, I'm just not sure I want to move."

"But food," Mistoffelees protested. He was still extremely slender and likely to stay so, but he wasn't quite over the idea he could eat as much as he liked without Jones or any of his lackey's staring him down.

Coricopat chuckled, shifting his arm from around the other as he hefted himself up into a sitting position. He'd been accustomed to going without a meal, sometimes two, a day until Mistoffelees moved in. He was hardly complaining about that, it was just an adjustment, "Alright, we'll see how it is. If it's salvageable we'll have dinner soonish, if not it could be a little bit longer."

Mistoffelees laughed. "You know, I think if you leave it in the stove it'll stay warm?"

That earned a long blink, "Yes, but if the curry sauce has permeated the chicken too far it won't matter if it's warm or cool unless we have something that will cut the spice. Where did you find that tidbit anyhow?" He leaned over to locate his pants and underwear and pull them on.

Mistoffelees remained sprawled out for a moment longer before finally pushing himself up, a faint blush on his cheeks. "I've been reading cookbooks in my spare time," he admitted finally.

Coricopat laughed lightly, leaning over to kiss the other briefly, "I probably shouldn't find that as adorable as I do. There are certainly worse things to do with your time." He rose, offering the other another smile before heading for the kitchen to assess the damage. Watching him, Mistoffelees just grinned before dressing enough to join him.

o-o-o-o

Several months later, Mistoffelees adjusted the hem of his jacket before slipping into the classroom and settling in the back row, watching Coricopat move around in front of the class, focused on lecturing about Picasso.

The last several months had been an adjustment for everyone. Mistoffelees continued to hear from several people from the club, getting postcards every once and a while from Bombalurina as she'd joined a touring show production. Griddlebone he still saw quite often, especially since she and Macavity had found themselves settling into a relationship.

As for his relationship with Coricopat, it was still a matter of giving and taking between them, though several loud arguments later they had mostly figured each other out. Mistoffelees found he preferred sex anywhere except a bed, and Coricopat remained steadfastly romantic about the entire thing, wanting to do it right in his own words. They compromised and bought a bigger couch.

After starting a course of computer classes to make up for several years of missed high school, and blazing through many of them, Mistoffelees discovered years of darkness meant he needed glasses. Honestly, having the frames on his face any time he had to confront the world made him feel more secure, as it reminded him of the weight of the mask he'd worn for years. He certainly didn't mind the way the frames looked either.

Listening to Coricopat's lecture, he shrugged out of the light jacket he was wearing, low cut tee shirt revealing the smattering of scars up his neck and down his arm. While he occasionally got shocked or odd looks for the scars, he could care less.

Coricopat's gaze swept over his students, filing away the names of those who were actively engaged and the ones who were just waiting for him to release them so they didn't have to hear another word about abstract artists for two more days. His eyes paused when he spotted Mistoffelees and a small smile flickered over his features. Living with another person would always be an adjustment, but that was one that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't regret.

Glancing at the clock, he considered exactly how much time was technically remaining in the class, and whether or not he could reasonably release the students. After another couple of minutes, he finally shut off his presentation, "Remember, have chapter seventeen read for Monday. I'll be answering e-mails if any of you have questions about my comments on your paper proposals that can't wait until next week. Class dismissed."

The class rose, buzzing with talk of the weekend as they slung their bags over their shoulders. Admetus paused as he noticed Mistoffelees rise and walk down to the front of the class, elbowing his new girlfriend lightly in the ribs. "That's the same guy, isn't it?"

Demeter looked up from where she'd been sliding her notebook into her book bag. She tilted her head to one side, "I think so, yeah." Shrugging, she shouldered her bag, "What's your point?"

"I donno," Admetus shrugged. "He seemed a, well, weird or interesting sort is all." He tilted his head as Mistoffelees reached Coricopat, putting a hand on the taller man's arm and grinning up at him. "Wonder if they're dating is all." Frankly, now that he was dating, he felt everyone should be too.

"And if they are?" Demeter shook her head, briefly considering the smile Coricopat offered the smaller man in return, "Teachers do that, you know."

"They have personal lives you mean?" Admetus asked, looking suitably aghast. "I don't know, the guy can't be more than our age is all. Makes the prof look a little creepy."

His girlfriend rolled her eyes and whacked him on the shoulder, "His private life is that, private. Come on." Catching him by the arm, she pulled him out of the lecture hall.

Down at the front of the classroom, Mistoffelees glanced back at where the door closed behind the last stragglers. "So can I kiss you now?" he asked, arching a brow behind his glasses.

The brunet offered him a faint smile and a shake of his head, "I suppose that could be permissible."

Rolling his eyes, the shorter man leaned up to kiss the taller man, wrapping his hands around the back of Coricopat's head and holding on for a long moment. Coricopat chuckled against the kiss, his arms wrapping around Mistoffelees' waist as he drew the other a bit closer.

The shorter man drew back with a grin, readjusting his glass frames. "There. I feel better about the afternoon now. Doesn't feel right anymore, not kissing you when I see you."

The professor shook his head, smiling, "No, I suppose it really doesn't. Are you here for any reason other than seeing me? Because I've technically got a meeting in about fifteen minutes that could take an hour or so."

"I was at the office, dropping some tests off and picking other ones up," he said with a shrug. "They've finally gotten to the point where if I can pass a final test in a week, counting that class for me and moving me along. I think they hope eventually I'll hit a subject that I don't know or can't learn in a matter of hours."

Coricopat laughed, "And do you think they'll ever find that subject?"

"When I hit senior year?" Mistoffelees offered with a grin.

"I do love how very humble you are," he leaned down to kiss the younger man's temple. "I really ought to get to my meeting…"

"I'll walk you to it," Mistoffelees offered, tilting into the touch. "I need to get more used to being around people on a regular basis anyway." It was why he actually walked to campus to drop the tests off, even though he still felt like Jones was going to appear around any corner to drag him back.

Nodding very slightly at that, the taller man hefted his bag and looped his free arm around the other, "Well, in that case I suppose we had better be on our way." Mistoffelees leaned against him as they walked, basking as much in the sunlight outside the classroom as the warmth of the other. They were still living in an ever-changing world, but after making it so far life seemed to promise the hope of a long, if not always peaceful, future for them.