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There is no moon tonight, the streets of Midnight City are even darker than usual. Two sets of black leather shoes tap against the pavement as their owners walk, and send echo's skittering down the alleyways they pass. This is an unusually casual stroll for such a dark night. When you are the city's biggest crime boss and his right hand man though, perhaps it is not so strange.
Droog had asked you to come with him on a walk, and you had agreed. Where he is leading you is uncertain though. He hasn't spoken in the last ten minutes since you left the hideout. The desert's chill is winding its way through the streets and rifling through your jacket, trying to steal your warmth. You pull the cloth around you tighter in an attempt to seal everything inside. No use.
You sigh, and you know he hears it. At this he would normally ask you what your reason for making such a sound would be, but he remains silent. Odd. You narrow your eyes as your lips turn down into a questioning frown. Maybe he'll see your expression and say something. No. His pace picks up so he's just in front of you.
"Where the fuck are we going, Droog?" You come to a stop and cross your arms. You are not a patient man. Your foot taps against the concrete faster than the ticking second hand inside of your wrist watch. There are several moments of silence before he answers.
"I... Did not have a destination in mind, would you like to stop?" He sounds hesitant, nervous. That's not the Droog you know, the man you've worked with for hundreds of years. He's not looking at you so there's no way to read his expression.
"Yeah, sure, let's take a break on the rooftops here." He leads you up a fire escape, a few floors up, to the top of the nearby apartment building. When you get there he leans himself against the balustrade and takes out his pack of cigarettes. What a terrible habit.
He pulls out his lighter, places the stick just between his lips, and sets the end ablaze. With a puff it turns to embers that burn through nicotine with every breath. You watch all of this closely, perhaps too much; there is a certain elegance with which Droog turns the awful act of smoking into art. You approach and then ask for one yourself.
A raise of his eyebrow asking, don't you have your own? Of course you do, but you want one of his. When you give no response he sighs and hands you one. A nod as a silent thank you. You don't need to look to know he just rolled his eyes.
You used to hate smoking, but perhaps you've breathed in so much second-hand from Droog by now it's settled into your system comfortably. You remember yelling at him to not smoke in the base, or glaring daggers when the smell permeated into the walls. Now, you don't know what you'd do without it. You think that if it no longer stained your clothes with it's ashen flavor, you'd go mad from the ache it left in your chest. There was a night you were supposed to sleep at a hotel by yourself after some surveillance, but all you did was toss and turn. It was too clean, too organized, and it lacked the one thing you needed.
You take a drag and exhale it slowly. He faces inwards, leaned back, you face out towards the city, leaning on your elbows. There's only a foot of distance between your arms. Without the moonlight the streetlamps are the only good source of light. Well, at least in this area; Downtown there are casinos and bars that chase away every shadow with their neon flashing signs. The calm that's settled around you makes you forget why you came up here.
Wait, he's lighting a second cig- you know he only goes through them quickly when he's worried. "What's on your mind?" His lips purse, his grip on the balustrade tightens. "Come one, let's get it off your chest before it makes you snap at someone who doesn't deserve it." You are referring to the times he has managed his emotions poorly, resulting in him yelling at Deuce, who never should be yelled at. A low growl before he straightens himself and begins pacing. You decide to let him wear out and go back to watching the skyline.
You make it through your own cigarette and he still has said nothing. The tap of his heels is a steady beat, every turn he makes at the end of a row precise. Maybe you can't get him to talk. Perhaps you should go home.
It is as you think this that there is suddenly a hand on your shoulder, pulling and pressing you to turn around. Droog boxes you in with a hand on either side of your hips. You try to will away the heat that rises into your cheeks, but all you can do is stare. He has an extra foot of height on you, yet he's bent himself down enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face. He closes his eyes.
"Droog-"
"Shut up, Spades." Your teeth clack together as your mouth snaps shut. What are you supposed to do now? He takes several deep breaths and finally looks at you. "When you've kept a secret for so long it can be hard to let it out, no matter how much you trust the other person." You blink slowly, carefully hiding the panic that surges in your chest. A secret? What could he possibly be hiding from you? "I've been weighing the actions and consequences in saying something for a long time... I was never going to speak unless forced."
"So why-"
" I said shut up, Spades." He leans in close to say this, his face only a few inches from yours. Your heart leaps into your throat and takes care of the worry that you will say anything else. He has to take a few moments to relax again before speaking. "As I was saying, I wasn't going too without force... But for some reason some instinct has brought me out here with you today. An impulse. Something telling me to take a chance."
Don't get your hopes up, Spades, don't do that to yourself. Your fists are clenched like your bracing for an impact. But then, one of his hands raises, fingers delicately cupping under your chin. “You know, I only ever thought there were two kinds of love: The kind you would kill for, and the kind you would die for…but you, Slick... you are the kind of love I would live for.”
You feel as though he just socked you in the solar plexus, breathing becomes far more difficult. Was that cracking sound from your knuckles, or the concrete you're gripping so tightly? You don't realize he has been waiting for some sort of response, a cue, until you see the regret flicker across his face. His fingertips slide away from touching you as he makes to step away.
Neither of you are ready for the way you snap back to attention, both hands seizing the collar of his jacket and yanking him down to your level. Your mouths crash together in a way that has you hissing and recoiling for a split second as you deal with the feeling that teeth smashing together left you with. However, your frustration does not stop you from trying again.
It's still messy; you get a cut on your upper lip from his teeth, but you don't care enough to adjust. On the other hand, Droog does seem to mind. He maneuvers the both of you back until he forces you to hop and sit atop the concrete wall. Then he straightens back to his full height, one hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him, as the other travels to cup your cheek and ease the kiss. Something between a whine and growl escapes your throat.
The initial rush calms itself until you both have to pull back for breath. He rests his forehead against yours, heavy breaths mixing in the space between. You feel like you should say something, perhaps return the sentiment he laid out, but you can't grasp the right words. You know what the feeling is, but you've never been good with saying it out loud. He opens his eyes and gives you another chaste kiss before pulling you back to your feet. There's an understanding in the look he gives you when you don't speak. The tension leaves your shoulders.
"Shall we head back?" He's asking you if you're ready. It seems the weight he'd been carrying has been lifted with this interaction. You nod and follow him back down the fire escape. A moment of hesitation at the bottom, before you start walking. He glances at you, and then offers his arm. You give a barely noticeable smile and hook your own through his. Despite the night's chill, the rest of the way back you are warm inside and out.