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Tommy sighed in dismay at the ‘out of order’ sign on the elevator. A glance at the pizza box revealed he was going to the fifth floor. Stairs it was, then. As he walked, he passed the time by trying to guess how much he would be tipped. The apartment block was one of the better ones in the city, not that that meant much. Esempi was a hellhole, and even that was putting it mildly. Delivering takeout didn’t usually get a lot of tips, the tippers either too poor themselves or just plain stingy in the suburbs.
He needed to work on his stamina, he decided, when he reached the fifth floor panting heavily.
Tommy double-checked he had the right door before pressing the button. The doorbell rang with a deep, ominous gong sound. Tommy stared at the peep hole, trying to get his breathing under control. It took a moment, and another, but finally the door opened.
A black theatre mask greeted him. Tommy paled, taking an involuntary step back.
“Ah, the pizza,” Themis drawled, his voice echoing in the hall. Tommy swallowed hard, hands shaking slightly. Themis cocked his head. “Why, hello there.”
“H-hi?” Tommy stuttered, clutching the pizza box to his chest. He was so, so dead.
“How much?” Themis asked patiently, and Tommy flinched.
“Uh, I, ah-” Tommy glanced down at the box, blinking until the numbers swam back into place. “T-twenty-seven and n-ninety-four c-cents. Sir.”
Themis nodded, trading two bills for the pizza box.
“Have a nice day,” he said politely, before shutting the door in Tommy’s face. Not that Tommy noticed, too busy staring at the two fifty dollar bills.
Eryn gaped at him for a solid minute when Tommy brought home nearly a hundred dollars in tips, without having to risk getting caught skimming by the sharp-eyed owner of the shop. The woman had been awfully suspicious lately, and Tommy had carefully hidden his tips before coming in. They had a communal tip jar that he fed a couple dollars in reluctantly, just for show. Everyone knew better than to expect to see most of the group tips ever again.
Themis’ generous tip paid off their bills from the last month. They’d been lagging behind a little, it was a relief to come even for once.
Between the three of them with currently four jobs and some, uh, extracurricular activities, they might even be able to save up some money. Maybe get a second bed or a new couch if they were frugal for a while. Or try to get out of their hellhole of an apartment - the ceiling started leaking recently, and their complaints fell on deaf ears. They didn’t dare make too much noise, either, with the three of them sharing a one bedroom flat.
That didn’t make him any less nervous as he stood before the same door again, with the same order. He gulped, rubbing his sweaty palms one after the other on his pants, juggling the pizza box. Taking a deep breath, he rang.
“Hello again!” Themis said cheerfully, and Tommy handed over the pizza wordlessly. “About thirty dollars right? Here.”
He handed Tommy a fifty dollar bill. Tommy licked his lips. Did he expect change this time? Was it a test? Themis was known for his unpredictability and murder sprees, and he kept looking at Tommy expectantly.
“R-right,” Tommy stammered, reaching for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “Y-your change, s-sir?”
Themis did a double-take, fortunately looking more surprised than offended.
“Oh! No, no, keep the change,” he said quickly, backing into his apartment hurriedly. “Nice to see you again, bye.”
The door fell shut, but Tommy was too glad to still be alive than to wonder at the strange behavior.
“Hi there! How’s your day been?”
“G-good, thank you?”
“Here, keep the change!”
“Hello again. Same old?”
“Same old. Here’s your usual, sir.”
“Thanks.”
“Hi! how are you?”
“I’m great, thanks! How are you?”
“Well enough, I suppose. Have you heard about the new movie that just came out?”
“I- I don’t watch many movies, sorry.”
“Oh. Uh. You should make an exception for this one, though, it was really good.”
“Oh. Okay. Uh, thanks, I’ll look into it.”
“Oh, I keep forgetting- what’s your name?”
“What?”
“I keep calling you Pizza boy in my head, so… what’s your name?”
“Oh! It’s…Tommy.”
“Nice to meet you, Tommy.”
“You, too.”
“Tommy,” a familiar voice called, and Tommy froze, looking around wildly. He was on his way home from his day job at the fast food place down the street. He’d been dead on his feet for the last hour of his shift, and he was looking forward to collapsing in their only bed for two hours while Eryn was out working, and Bill was out working. Then it was off to the pizza night shift. Where he was kind of hoping to see Themis because he tipped insanely well.
He did not expect to run into that black theatre mask on his way home though.
“Uh, hi?” he said slowly, taking a couple steps closer to the mouth of the alley Themis was loitering in. He glanced down the alley, and then over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see any of the other Syndicates. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for idiots,” Themis replied drily, waving him off. He eyed Tommy up and down, but it no longer sent shivers down his spine. He’d gotten used to their small-talk. “You quit your night job?”
“Nah,” Tommy said, shrugging with a self-depreciating smile. “I work morning shifts at McPuffy’s, night shifts at Pizza My Mind, is all.”
He swore Themis’ eyebrows were raised. He couldn’t see them behind the mask, of course, but something in the way his eyes moved as he stared silently back at him… Tommy shuffled awkwardly.
“So, uh,” he tried, the silence growing too uncomfortable not to break. “Was there…any particular reason you called me over?”
Themis shrugged.
“I’m bored, and the idiots are keeping me waiting.”
Tommy stared at him for a long moment, before he snorted.
“So, you what. Just wanted to chat? To pass time?” Tommy shook his head, bemused. Themis scuffed his boot against the asphalt.
“Well,” he stalled, sounding almost… shy? “If you got a moment?”
No one would ever believe him if he told them, Tommy thought dazedly, but Themis had the most devastating puppy dog eyes that he’s ever seen. Ever. Something about those deep brown eyes… even the mask couldn’t detract from it. Much.
“Yeah, sure,” Tommy gave in, feeling surreal. His life was weird.
“You know, you uh don’t have to tip me so much.”
“Why not? I have more than enough money.”
“Just…”
“Yeah?”
“...never mind.”
“Everybody on the ground, now!” A gunshot rang through the suddenly quiet room. “Down, all of you!”
It wasn’t the first time Tommy was taken hostage. You didn’t work at a shop in Esempi without getting robbed at least every other month. Tommy got held up at work once, ending up making the robbers burgers to go along with the bag of cash. It might have saved his life, but he hadn’t really thought of it.
Tommy always had a weird reaction to being held at gunpoint.
“Whoa there!” he blurted out, holding up his hands in surrender.
“I said down, fucker,” Eris growled, pushing the gun to his chest. “Why aren’t you on the floor yet, dickhead?”
Tommy eyed the assault rifle a little enviously. He’d have to ask Eryn if they couldn’t save up for one, but considering their lack of funds… Eris punched his shoulder, and Tommy lifted his head to catch his gaze. Right. He wouldn’t be here, in this situation, if it weren’t for their money troubles. The gun had to wait.
“You listening to me, asshole?”
“Right, right, sorry,” Tommy mumbled. His heart stopped for a beat as he realized that his chances of getting out of this alive were dwindling by the seconds. Eris’ scowl darkened. “Don’t shoot me?”
“Eris,” a familiar voice cut through the din. Someone had tripped the alarm, probably the jeweler hiding behind the showcase.
“What,” Eris snapped, not taking his eyes off Tommy.
“I got the crowd. Get the cash,” Themis ordered, and finally Eris looked away to glare at the other man.
“The fuck, man,” he ground out, but Themis made a hand motion that cut him off.
“Just do it, for fuck’s sake,” he snapped, waving his gun over the people on the floor. Eris grabbed Tommy by the collar with a snarl, pushing him towards Themis. He stumbled, but the other man caught his arm and stabilized him.
“Fuck you,” he bit out, but stomped off to fill a bag full with jewels and cash. Themis slung his free arm around Tommy’s neck, putting him into a chokehold as he tucked him close to his chest.
“Do as I say,” he hissed into his ear, and Tommy nodded barely noticeable. The hold relaxed an inch. Tommy let himself slump against Themis, just a little, his heart beating staccato. That was a little too close, but he felt… safe with the other man. Certain enough that he wouldn’t kill Tommy as long as he gave him no reason to.
Maybe he was just reading a little too much into their chats.
They were surprisingly efficient, in and out in under five minutes. It felt like an eternity to Tommy, however, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Themis didn’t let go of him, so he stumbled out with them as they left, Themis firing a warning shot into the ceiling. Tommy could hear sirens in the distance, and he wasn’t the only one. He felt Themis stiffen behind him.
“Let’s go,” he urged, dropping the arm around Tommy’s shoulders and squeezing his shoulder.
Eris glared at them, but Themis ignored him, motioning him forward. Eris shot him a disgusted look over his shoulder, before stomping ahead, bag of loot fastened over his shoulder and assault rifle in his hands. Tommy swallowed, turning to look at the other man.
“What are you doing here?” Themis questioned him, his fingers digging into Tommy’s arm as he dragged him along. Tommy winced.
“I was casing the place,” he answered rapidly. Eryn said they weren’t at the point yet where they had to move on to Plan C, but he’d just been fired after getting caught pinching from the register. Bill said to better be prepared, and Tommy agreed. “I didn’t realize this was Syndicate territory, sorry.”
Themis hummed. “It’s not yet. We’re contesting. Better keep out of here for a while.”
“I will,” Tommy promised quickly, a little out of breath. Finally, Themis let go of him.
“You good from here?” he asked softly, something like concern in his voice. Tommy glanced around, relieved to recognize which back alley this was.
“Yeah, I know where to go from here,” he assured the other man, and Themis nodded sharply.
“Run along then.”
“Next time someone takes you hostage, try the silently lying on the floor thing.”
“Yeah, you kinda saved my life there. Thanks.”
“Well, I couldn’t just stand by while you got yourself killed. Who’s gonna bring me pizza this late at night if you die?”
“Your usual, Mr. Themis,” Tommy announced snottily, presenting the pizza box with a dramatic flourish. Themis laughed, shaking his head fondly.
“Heh, thanks Tommy,” he replied, then grew quiet. He eyed Tommy thoughtfully, before nodding solemnly. “You know what? Just call me Wilbur.”
The world slowed down for one eternal moment. Tommy blinked, surprised, his heartbeat picking up the pace.
“Oh,” he said, dumbfounded. “I- Okay. Sure.”
Tommy wasn’t sure if he imagined things, or if Themi- Wilbur’s fingers lingered over his as he closed his open hand around the hundred dollar bill.
“Keep the cash,” he said quietly, and Tommy gave him a crooked grin, ducking his head.
“Thanks.” A pause before he shyly looked up and added a little breathlessly, “Wilbur.”
“-and then he said, ‘Okay but what if you flip two coins-”
“No way!”
“Yes. He totally did.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it-”
“It’s science.”
“Dude.”
Tommy let his feet carry him down the familiar floor. The elevator was finally working, but Tommy had chosen the stairs out of habit, and, well. It kept him fit. So maybe he noticed Wilbur’s eyes lingering on his thighs, maybe he’d even worn slightly smaller shorts. Couldn’t blame a guy for trying. Preoccupied as he was, he hadn’t watched where he’d been going, ringing the bell absently.
He only realized his mistakes when a hot guy in a tux opened the door, looking at him curiously.
“Oh! Uh, sorry sir, I must have gotten the wrong apartment number-”
Fancy Hot Guy chuckled bemusedly.
“Christ, no, Tommy! It’s just me,” he said, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms. Tommy did a double-take, looking the guy over more closely.
“W-Wilbur?” he stuttered, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. “Oh, wow. Um.”
Wilbur grinned smugly, but Tommy was a little distracted by checking out his legs in the well-fitting pants.
“Like what you see?” he purred, and Tommy’s head snapped up. He stared at him wide-eyed, before blushing darkly.
“You clean up nice, big man,” he blurted out. Mortified, he shoved the pizza box into Wilbur’s hands, before beating a hasty retreat. “Here you go, see ya, bye.”
“Tommy, wait!” Wilbur called after him, but Tommy was already half-way down the stairs, taking two at a time.
It was only after he sat in the shabby old car that he realized he’d forgotten to take Wilbur’s money. Cursing, he considered going back upstairs, but just the thought had his stomach all twisted up. Tommy bit his lip. He could pay out of his pocket just this once. He ignored the sinking feeling of not getting the usually generous tip, even though he knew they needed it. It couldn’t hurt just the once, right?
The library was a quiet place. More importantly, it was warm.
Tommy sighed, dropping his head in his arms. There were several books spread across the table, some actually relevant to his research and some to misdirect potential observers. Better safe than sorry, even if it made him feel a little too paranoid. He blinked, the warmth making him feel drowsy. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.
He didn’t mean to fall asleep.
The thing was, Tommy had just been fired from McPuffy’s, citing an incident with a customer that he was pretty sure was actually his co-worker’s fault, but the manager didn’t like Tommy. Losing two sources of income had hit them hard, and they hadn’t been able to pay electricity and heat bills for a while now, so the company finally cut them off. Eryn was also somewhere in here, on one of the computers doing little programming jobs.
And Tommy was supposed to research their targets.
Honestly, he was just glad to be inside a warm building, their leaky flat freezing. They could barely sleep at night, having taken to dogpiling on their single bunk bed with all their threadbare blankets together. Needless to say, sleep was hard to come by, and it left Tommy exhausted. The blueprints he’d been staring at had stopped making sense an hour ago, markers and letters swimming in front of his eyes.
“Tommy?” a quiet voice startled him. Tommy’s head jerked up, and he blinked profusely. “Hey there, kid.”
He frowned at the man standing across the table from him in confusion. Slacks and a loose sweater, glasses perched on his nose and curly brown hair; he had something of a professor vibe. It wasn’t until he caught those dark eyes that realization sank in.
“Oh, Wilbur! Hi.” Tommy blushed, remembering the last time he’d seen the other man. That had been… embarrassing.
“Taking a break from work, I take it?” Wilbur asked, putting his own books down next to Tommy’s and sitting down across from him.
“More like, work is taking a break from me,” Tommy joked weakly, dragging his fingers through his hair. Christ, he hoped he didn’t look too unkempt. “Kinda lost my day job, so…”
“Oh,” Wilbur trailed off awkwardly, giving him a closer look. “Sorry to hear that?”
Tommy just shrugged one shoulder, staring down at the open books. He nudged one to cover the blueprints better.
“Shit happens,” he muttered, glancing up at Wilbur from under his lashes. The other man seemed thoughtful. “And I still got the one at Pizza My Mind as Plan B.”
“What’s Plan C, then?” Wilbur tried to lighten the mood, and Tommy grinned. He made a show of looking left and right, before leaning in conspiratorially.
“Rob a bank, get rich,” Tommy whispered. Wilbur blinked, startled. Tommy kept a straight face for a second longer, then broke into a shit-eating grin. Wilbur leaned back, chuckling.
“If you need some pointers,” he drawled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tommy snorted, amused.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They settled into a companionable silence. Just being in Wilbur’s presence gave Tommy a boost in motivation, sleepiness pushed back down. He checked the map against his notes from the blueprints, crossing through less desirable or difficult targets. Every other minute, he’d glance up to see Wilbur engrossed in his book. He squinted. Something about Fahrenheit? Tommy bit his lip, wondering if he should ask about it. Sounded science-y.
They’d been silently working across from each other for over an hour when Tommy’s stomach started growling. Tommy blushed. They had to ration their food tightly for over a week now, and even then they were running low. Eryn wanted to go dumpster diving tonight, stock up their stores with what supermarkets threw away. Tommy thought he might try snatching the leftovers and wrong orders, if he could get them past his boss, which… was sadly unlikely. She kept watching him like a hawk, and he’d been unable to skim any bills when counting out the register.
His stomach rumbled discontentedly, and Tommy pushed his chair back with a sigh. It was getting late anyway, the library would close soon. He looked up to catch Wilbur staring at him with that thoughtful, considering look on his face again. Tommy shuffled the books together awkwardly, ducking his head.
His stomach protested again, louder this time.
“Let me buy you dinner,” Wilbur offered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He closed his book with a snap.
“Oh, I couldn’t-” Tommy replied, flustered. Was he- was he asking him-
“It’s not charity,” Wilbur insisted, holding his hands up placatingly. “You paid for my pizza last time, remember? Let me repay you the favor, and we can call us even.”
“Oh,” Tommy replied, deflating. He had thought… He should know better than to get his hopes up. “Okay. I guess.”
“Great,” Wilbur smiled, standing up and gathering his books. “It’s a date!”
With that, he turned around to put the books onto the return cart, leaving Tommy blinking after him.
“...wait. What.”
“So what were you reading, back there?” Tommy asked curiously as they slid into the corner seat. He’d been half afraid Wilbur would take him somewhere fancy, but he just pulled up at the closest hole-in-the-wall, even though a McPuffy’s was closer. Tommy appreciated the consideration on Wilbur’s part.
“Fahrenheit 451,” Wilbur explained promptly, then ducked his head and stared at his folded hands on the table. “It’s a classic about people having to learn books by heart because the state is burning them all.”
“Huh,” Tommy said blankly. There was a light blush dusting Wilbur’s cheeks. Tommy grinned, leaning forward teasingly. “I hadn’t pegged you as a nerd.”
“Musical theatre major,” Wilbur offered with a shrug, glancing back up at him. There’s a wry twist to his lips. “The mask was a very deliberate choice. Deep meaning. Great metaphor. You know, the goddess of justice embodying the muses-”
“You’re adorable,” Tommy blurted out, then chuckled self-consciously. The blush darkened on Wilbur’s cheeks. It made Tommy’s chest feel warm.
“Well,” Wilbur rasped, then pointedly cleared his throat. The waitress came to take their orders, just in time to save him from having to respond.
Tommy consciously picked something that wasn’t too expensive, just a medium burger that he might buy himself if he’d save up a little. Wilbur frowned at him over the menu and then ordered fries and nachos for both of them. Tommy swallowed his protest until the waitress had moved out of earshot.
“Look, you don’t have to buy me extra food,” he said, crossing his arms. Wilbur eyed him warily.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” he started slowly, choosing his words with care. “Just… order more if you’re still hungry, okay? Money’s not an issue for me.”
“I don’t want charity,” Tommy ground out, and Wilbur sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair.
“I understand that. Believe me, I do. I’ve been independent before I made a reputation for myself, and it wasn’t always pretty. Still,” Wilbur said, giving him a sad smile. “I don’t like to see you miserable. Just… just this once, okay?”
He agreed reluctantly, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Okay. Just this once.”
Tommy traced the patterns of the wood with a finger, feverishly trying to come up with a new topic. An awkward pause settled between them, Wilbur fidgeting with the menu card.
“So, what about you?” Wilbur ventured, waggling his fingers in his direction. “I mean, what did you do before delivering takeout and such?”
“I used to be a pianist.” Tommy ducked his head. “Had a full scholarship ride to college and everything figured out, too. Then I fucked yo my grades-” He rolled his left shoulder and grimaced. “-and well. That was that. Had no money to pay for college, so I got stuck with no-minimum wage jobs, trying to get by.”
Wilbur mimicked his grimace. “That sucks.”
“It worked out so far.” Tommy shrugged. “I live with two friends, and between us we usually manage.”
Wilbur eyed him sharply, and Tommy tensed, waiting for him to comment. Because obviously they were not getting by well right now, and Tommy knew Wilbur wasn’t stupid. He could read between the lines - spending all day at the library, joking about robbery, the state of his clothes - he must have put two and two together by now.
Just then, their food and drinks arrived, and luckily Wilbur decided to change the topic.
Tommy relaxed, pushing the worries over his situation far back, and allowed himself to enjoy the date.
Just this once.
“Dolos is in position,” Tommy whispered, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Gelos is all set up, too,” Bill added, humming under his breath.
“The Destroyer is rea-”
“No,” Bill and Tommy chorused at the same time.
“Ah, guys, c’mon-”
“No, Er- Philotes, we talked about this,” Tommy interrupted. He tapped his earpiece to irritate the hacker. “No changing names this late in the game.”
“How come you get to be Dolos, then?” Eryn challenged, sounding smug.
“Because, Philotes, Theseus was a little too on the nose,” Bill replied drily.
“Says you, Gelos,” Eryn pointed out with a snort, “why did we even have to mimic the Syndicate’s names anyway?”
“Alright, boys,” Bill sing-songed. “Let’s play.”
They quickly got to work. Bill knelt in front of the villa door, tongue peeking out of his mouth as he shifted the lockpicks. Tommy stood with his back to him, tense and alert. Eryn had already hacked into the security system, ready to take it down as soon as they had the doors open. He was hanging back in their escape vehicle.
Click.
“Done,” Bill murmured, holding the door shut until Eryn gave the go ahead.
“Alarm’s down,” he said, his voice sounding tinny over the short range comms. “Remember, you’ve only got twenty minutes until it’s back online.”
Bill slipped through the door while Eryn was still talking, and Tommy gave the gardens and streets one last furtive look before following him inside. The villa was old, but had since been renovated. Tommy had managed to get his hands on the old blueprints from the 50s, and they’d planned based on that layout. It wasn’t too far off from what Tommy could see in a quick lookover.
Bill power-walked down the hallway, peeking into every room he passed before vanishing into the office. They suspected the safe was either in there, or upstairs in the bedroom.
So Tommy went upstairs.
The master bedroom was enormous, and at least one wall had been knocked down since the house was first built. He quickly got to work, riffling through the hall drawers, bagging any jewelry and anything shiny or hopefully expensive as he went. Then he checked the walls for a safe. Not finding one he continued on to the bathroom, collected even more jewelry and some essentials (the less they had to buy the better) before heading downstairs for the living room.
“Ten minutes,” Eryn warned them.
“Got the safe almost open. If you would quiet down, please,” Bill snapped.
Tommy took a moment to check the cabinets for the good china and silverware, taking only what wouldn’t easily break. Though the bottles of expensive alcohol were too tempting to ignore.
“Got it!” Bill cheered, before whistling. “Ooooh, jackpot.”
“What is it?” Tommy asked curiously, moving onto the kitchen. They’d been low on food lately, and while he was sure that rich people mostly kept stuff that expired early, they could use something to boost their stores until they could sell the loot. Besides, surely they must have cereal or canned food, too.
“Some very precious jewels and gold, from the looks of it. In the form of jewelry and a wristwatch, I mean. Philotes, do we have use for their credit card info?”
“We absolutely do!” Eryn perked up. “Bring it with you, and hurry up, guys, we’re almost out of time.”
There were several apples and bananas that went straight into the bag. Tommy was considering how to package the meat without ruining it or the other things in his bag, when the room flashed blue and red. Blue. Red.
“Shit!” Eryn cursed. “Where the hell did they- guys, you need to leave, now. Go out the back or a window, the police have the front door covered!”
“What? How!” Bill yelped, but Tommy cut him off.
“Doesn’t matter. Out. Now.”
“The alarm’s still down for another minute, I don’t know how they could have-”
The sound of furious typing accompanied Eryn’s panicked voice.
Tommy rushed towards the back door, hoping to sneak away in the dark of the garden. The door was locked, but the key stuck in the hole on the inside. He slipped outside, looking around. It was still dark in the backyard, the police must not have gotten around to surrounding them yet.
A soft thump had him whirl around, tense.
Bill caught his eyes, sliding the window back shut behind him.
“Let’s go,” he whispered urgently, and Tommy nodded.
“The front’s covered in police, they’re starting to come around the sides,” Eryn warned them.
Tommy bit his lip, surveying the area. He eyed the hedge.
“This way,” he muttered, tugging on Bill’s sleeve. He threw the bag over first, then squatted down. “Step on my shoulders, I’ll help you over.”
Bill didn’t protest. When Tommy stood back up, he hauled himself and his own bag over, landing with a muffled thud.
“What about you, Dolos,” he asked quietly.
“I’ll figure something out. Take the loot, regroup with Philotes,” Tommy ordered.
There was a long moment of silence. Tommy snuck along the hedge, hoping for a hole or some bushes to hide in.
“That’s- Tommy, you know that’s a dead end,” Eryn rasped, forgetting their codenames.
“Don’t wait for me,” was his only reply.
Tommy took out his comm and stepped on it, before stuffing the broken pieces deep into the hedge for good measure. There was no chance of getting out of this. He squared up his shoulders and started walking along the edge of the property with some small hope of finding an escape route after all. But, in the end…
Better him than the others.
Tommy stared at his hands, folded tightly on his lap to stop the shaking. He’d been caught. He’d always known it was a possibility, had joked with Eryn and Bill about how inevitable it was, even. He hadn’t thought it’d leave him shaking. He’d been in here for three days already, was going to be transferred later that day.
He was so screwed.
There was no way Eryn and Bill were coming for him - they were a tight-knit group, childhood friends, but getting him out when he’d been caught red-handed? They didn’t stand a chance in hell, no matter how good Eryn had gotten at hacking or how quick Bill’s fingers were. They could barely afford rent, much less bail. Or the suspicion, considering they got away with their ill-gotten gains.
So. He was going to prison. He’d have to come to terms with that, and the sooner the better.
There were four other dudes and two ladies in the holding cell with him, all shorter than Tommy. He squeezed his hands tighter together, glancing from under his lashes as he tried to take them in. He’d been training lately, since he was the main attacker of their small crew, but he wasn’t sure if he could take any of them. Not with how out of sorts he felt. Luckily everyone was keeping to themsel-
Boom. Tommy jumped a foot in the air, his ears ringing. The world shook. Boom.
And then the back wall caved in, debris flying every which way. They all backed away from the hole, and Tommy followed suit, squinting against the light and dusk. There was shouting somewhere, more distant explosions were detonating. Then the alarms went off.
Two silhouettes slowly stepped through the settling dust.
“‘Sup, bitches,” Perses said- the Perses, the Syndicate’s explosives expert. He was carrying a minigun, fortunately pointed at the floor for now. And next to him a lanky man in skinny jeans and sunglasses with dual colored hair. Tommy’s heart started beating faster.
“Gentlemen. Gentleladies,” Lethe spoke up, clapping his hands once as if to get their attention. Not like they weren’t all already staring at him. “You’re all free to go. Except for-” He unerringly pointed toward Tommy, and Tommy’s heart sunk. “Except for him.”
They didn’t need to be told twice, giving the two Syndicate members a wide berth as they streamed outside. Tommy stood frozen in his spot, watching them wide-eyed. Perses pushed his hands into his pockets and eyed him.
“Tommy, is it?” he asked, and Tommy nodded warily. Perses smirked. “Alrighty! Follow us, then.”
Tommy stepped towards them cautiously, and when he came up beside them, the brunet slung an arm around his waist, drawing an SMG with his other as he dropped the minigun at Lethe’s feet. He dragged Tommy through the hole, Lethe staying behind them, walking backwards to cover their retreat. The streets were in chaos, screaming civilians running like headless chickens, police trying to create a perimeter while taking potshots at the other Syndicates. Tommy glimpsed the infamous black theatre mask across the street, before Perses shoved him into the backseat of a car.
“The package is secure, copy,” the driver said briskly, as Lethe smacked the door shut, causing Tommy to flinch. “I’m coming to pick you up, guys.”
There was a moment of tense silence. A burst of unintelligible comm chatter, followed by the motor revving. Perses and Lethe had disappeared down the back-alley. Tommy craned his neck, but he couldn’t see them anymore.
“I’ll need a distraction, lads,” the driver—Keres, Tommy identified—spoke up tersely, the wheels squealing before the car jumped forward at high speed. Then Keres turned to look at Tommy through the rearview mirror. “Please get down.”
Tommy ducked into the foot room, laying his head on top of the seat to get out of the line of fire. Not a second too soon because the next moment the glass spider-webbed from a stray bullet. Bullet-proof glass, Tommy thought hysterically. He was jostled hard when the woman suddenly slammed on the brakes. Two doors banged open. The sound of rapid-fire guns. Two men jumped into the car. The doors banged back shut.
“Go, go, go!” the man in front yelled, and the driver stepped on the gas.
Tommy kept low for a while, watching as Themis- Wilbur rolled down the window and started shooting at their pursuers. It was a bit of a relief to be in the same car as him. The man up front in the passenger seat was taking pot-shots out his window, too, talking a mile a minute with someone on the other side of the comms. Tommy crawled up onto the backseat, peeking through the back window to find three cop cars on their tail.
“Alright, assholes, cut the banter for a second and gimme a fucking sitrep,” the man growled, sticking his head out. One of the tires popped, the police car slithering long enough for Wilbur to put enough bullets into the windshield to shatter it. “Take that, motherfucking pigs!”
They took a couple sharp turns, and Tommy ducked his head as the cops returned fire. The Syndicate laughed and bantered and cackled, an odd counterpoint to the rapid-fire sound of bullets. For a few moments, it almost seemed like they would catch up, arrest the Syndicate once and for all-
Then one car fell behind, then another. Finally, it was only two officers on bikes, not daring to get close with Themis laying down cover fire.
“Well then,” the man in the passenger seat spoke up, and Tommy sat up and turned around, exhaling shakily. “You must be Tommy. You’re taller than I expected.”
“Am I in trouble?” Tommy asked weakly, eyes flicking from where Wilbur leaned out of the window to shoot behind them, to Keres driving, and then onto the rearview mirror for a glance at the man in passenger seat, covered in a green and black cloak. Zephyrus. It had to be Zephyrus, holy shit.
“You were in trouble,” Keres informed him calmly, jerking the wheel around to dodge incoming traffic.
Zephyrus caught his eyes through the mirror, nodding to him. Tommy bit his lower lip uncertainly. The drooping eyelids didn’t take away from the sharpness of his blue gaze, and Tommy was uncomfortably aware that this was the most dangerous man in all of Esempi.
“We just got you out of it,” he pointed out nonchalantly, observing Tommy lazily. Tommy’s stomach twisted at the reminder that he was now in their debt.
Wilbur dropped back into his seat, dropping the empty mag and reloading with sure movements. His head turned a little in Tommy’s direction, though he couldn’t quite tell if he was looking at him due to the mask. He inched closer to him anyway. Wilbur rested the assault rifle in his lap, then laid a hand on Tommy’s knee and squeezed reassuringly.
Tommy gave him a weak smile.
When they arrived at the safehouse, Tommy made it a point to stick close to Wilbur. Themis might have one of the scariest reputations, but Tommy knew Wilbur. He trusted Wilbur. The rest of them seemed much more dangerous, compared to that. He watched them cautiously as they went about the house, securing the perimeter or searching the fridge and kitchen cabinets in turn. Perses pulled out an old-fashioned English kettle and put it on the stove. Wilbur pulled off his mask and dropped it on the table, taking a seat. Tommy quietly dropped into the chair next to him.
The silence that followed was awkward, as they all settled around the kitchen table.
“So,” Perses piped up, fingers wrapped around a mug full of hot, steaming tea. “Now that we have him, what do we do with him?”
“Don’t be mean,” Lethe reprimanded, whacking him up the head.
“I, uh, I would like to know that, too,” Tommy chimed in, subconsciously reaching for Wilbur. The other man intertwined their hands and squeezed reassuringly. “I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but why…?”
“Curiosity, mostly,” Zephyrus drawled, propping his chin on his steepled fingers as he watched them in amusement. “Personally, I just wanted to know who managed to capture the notorious Themis’ heart.”
Tommy shot Wilbur a glance at that. His eyes were shadowed by black eyeshadow, but his face burned red.
“So, uh, that’s it?” Tommy asked in disbelief, turning to look at the infamous Syndicate members. “What’s gonna happen next? Or am I free to go?”
“There’s some conditions, of course,” Keres broke in smoothly, “You don’t talk about anything you might overhear during your stay here, or tell anyone the location of this safehouse.”
“Your prints and picture have also been added to the EPD database, so you might want to lay low for a while,” Zephyrus suggested.
“I won’t, and I know someone who can take care of that,” Tommy replied. Then he grimaced. “I suppose I’m fired after all that, anyway, so it’s not like I have anywhere to be.”
“You are,” Wilbur confirmed quietly. “Your replacement is what clued me in, that something was wrong.” Then he added hesitantly, “You can stay at my place if you want?”
Tommy bit his lip, looking up at Wilbur from under his lashes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he assured him, squeezing his hand. Tommy smiled shyly.
“Can I have a phone? I should call my roommates, they must be worried sick by now.”
“They know what happened?” Zephyrus asked nonchalantly, but his eyes were sharp. Tommy gave him a crooked grin.
“We pulled the heist together. They barely made it out, I was buying them time,” he explained, shrugging half-heartedly. Zephyrus hummed contemplatively, but nodded. The driver sighed, standing up.
“I’ll get you a burner phone.”
They scattered, after that, leaving Tommy alone with Wilbur. Keres - call me Kristin - returned with an old flip phone, and after a quick call to Eryn to let them know what happened, he looked up at Wilbur hopefully.
“So…”
Wilbur smiled. “Why don’t we go upstairs for some privacy?”
“Sure,” Tommy said, swallowing his nerves, “Sounds good.”
They passed by the living room on the way to the stairs, and the other members made no effort to disguise their staring as they watched them intently. Tommy straightened his shoulders and clutched Wilbur’s hand a little tighter. There were several guest rooms on the second floor, and Wilbur seemed to pick one at random. There wasn’t much beside a bed and some basic furniture, so Tommy sat down on the bed and clasped his hands between his knees.
After a long second, Wilbur settled down beside him.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, his hand hovering over Tommy’s back but not quite touching. Tommy shrugged, leaning into the offered hug.
“A couple bruises here and there,” he replied, lifting his hands to show Wilbur his wrists. They’d pulled the handcuffs a little tight. “Mostly just shaken.”
Wilbur took his hands gently, rubbing a thumb over the red welts. Tommy winced.
“We’ve got some cream in the bath that should help,” he suggested, shifting the hand into his lap and rubbing circles on his palm instead. “Tommy, I-”
He seemed at a loss for words. Tommy leaned his head on his shoulder, the gentle tracing of his fingers and palm doing more for him than he wanted to admit.
“I’m fine,” he promised, and Wilbur stopped his ministrations, tangling their fingers instead and squeezing.
“I was worried,” he admitted lowly, ducking his head. “I didn’t realize things had gotten bad enough for you to move onto Plan C.”
“Rob a bank and get rich,” Tommy mused, a smile tugging on his lips. He’d forgotten he told Wilbur that. “Look, I like you, Wil-” He blushed, turning his face to hide his burning cheek against Wilbur’s shoulder. “But I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. I’m very independent.”
“I noticed,” Wilbur teased gently, bumping their knees together. “Just… call me for back up next time, okay? I can give you a safety net until you’re a little more experienced.”
Tommy froze, then leaned back and looked up at Wilbur properly. Wilbur turned so they sat face-to-face, Tommy’s hand still in his lap.
“You’re in the Syndicate, though,” Tommy murmured, reluctantly letting go of Wilbur’s hand. Wilbur didn’t stop him. “How would that look, to the other gangs?”
“I didn’t think of that,” Wilbur admitted, leaning forward and resting a hand on his leg earnestly. “Tommy, I just- I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“People get hurt every day, Wilbur,” Tommy whispered, caught by dark eyes. “It’s a hazard of living in this city.”
Wilbur scowled. “Fuck that. I’ll talk with Phil, we’ll figure something out. Get you special permission to heist within crew territory - he’ll want a part of the cut, but he’ll probably offer you supplies and protective gear in turn.” His voice grew faster, more eager. “It would be a lot safer. Just… just think about it, okay?”
“Wil...” Tommy trailed off, breath hitching in his throat. There was something wild, something desperate in those brown eyes. He reached out and squeezed Wilbur’s knee. “I’ll ask my friends what they think. If… if you think Zephyrus would agree to that.”
“I do,” Wilbur answered immediately, and Tommy smiled. His hand drifted up to his thigh.
“Okay,” he agreed.
There was a low heat building in his stomach. Tommy could swear he heard the tension between them sizzle. Biting his lip, he sat up on his knees, shuffling closer. Wilbur’s hand drifted up to his hip, steadying him, while Tommy dropped his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. He swallowed, suddenly nervous. Wilbur’s free hand settled on his nape, fingers brushing along his neck and into his hair. He let himself be pulled closer, until their breaths mingled, mouths barely an inch apart.
“You can back out now,” Wilbur warned, offered, reassured. Tommy blinked. “Just… just tell me and I will stop.”
“I think,” Tommy said, licking his lips, “I think we’re on the same page here.”
With that, he bridged the gap separating them. Wilbur’s lips felt soft under his, as he brushed their mouths together hesitantly. When Wilbur reacted by pressing closer, Tommy gained more confidence, moving his lips against Wilbur’s. His fingers dug into Wilbur’s shoulders, and Wilbur arm wrapped around his waist to pull him properly into the other man’s lap.
The kiss turned from soft and careful into passionate and demanding.
Tommy opened his mouth, inviting Wilbur to explore with his tongue. One of his hands slipped up Wilbur’s neck and into his hair, burying his fingers into those chocolate curls. In turn, Wilbur scratched his nails over Tommy’s scalp, his tongue coaxing Tommy’s into his own mouth. Tommy squirmed in Wilbur’s lap, causing the older man to gasp and thrust up helplessly.
“Fuck,” Tommy murmured against Wilbur’s lips, breathing heavily. Wilbur laughed, a deep, earthy chuckle that vibrated through Tommy’s chest.
“Maybe later,” he teased, and Tommy felt his face heat up.
Wilbur brushed his hair off of his forehead, and the arm around his waist tightened. Tommy smiled, feeling silly and hot and awkward, but safe nonetheless.
“Wanna try that again?” he asked, red high on his cheeks, and Wilbur grinned.
“Hell yes.”