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"What do you think?" Sorbet murmurs, interrupting the silence between the two.
Gelato looks up at him over his hand, cards fanned out in a telltale display. He watches the other's idling movements, eyes flicking between his boyfriend and the awful hand he's been dealt this round of rummy. They both know what question Sorbet's posed; it's the same one he's asked for the last few nights. They go through their nightly routine of winding down before bed, but it's been far tenser ever since they've put this on the table. Gelato lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through his hair, unruly locks sticking up as he discards his worst card to the top of the pile. The Queen of Spades stares forlornly up at the two, illuminated in a warm glow by a nearby lamp.
"You know what I think," he replies, and he watches Sorbet draw a card and immediately put down a meld of 4's. "It's all I have been thinking about."
Another discard onto the pile, a 6 of diamonds, and Sorbet's turn is over. His gaze is unwavering, imploring for an answer, something more solid than the other had given him. Gelato picks another card from the draw pile and wrinkles his nose. These melds weren't going to play themselves, but God, he was having a hard time completing any of them.
"And, you know, I'm not opposed to it at all," he continues, plopping his drawn card down in the discard pile. Such a wasted turn. "I know we could pull this off. He can't seriously expect us to stay sitting ducks when he's taking us for fucking fools, can he?"
Sorbet nods in agreement, thin fingers drawing another card from the pile. He mulls it over, and Gelato can hear the gentle tapping of his foot cutting through their quiet surroundings. He ultimately decides to nestle the card into his hand and discards another—an ace of hearts.
"But?" Sorbet inquires, pressing for an answer. "I can tell there's a but."
Gelato wrinkles his nose with his next card draw, dropping it into the discard pile without a second thought.
"We're not gonna get anyone else on board," he grumbles, watching as Sorbet reaches to pick up the slowly building pile of discards. "What, did I get rid of something you wanted?"
"Yes," is all Sorbet replies as he lays down an 8-9-10 and a meld of 7's. Gelato scoffs at his play, but there's no frustration behind it-- he's well acquainted with losing. He discards an 8 of clubs and raises an eyebrow at the man across from him, who's been watching him closely, gaze darting from his hands to his face and back again. "Who says we need anyone else on board?"
"Fuck, finally," Gelato mutters under his breath as he places a Jack-Queen-King and a on the table, the draw pile mercifully giving him some reprieve. He doesn't reply to Sorbet's question immediately, taking a moment as he busies himself with organizing his hand. Only when the silence has gone on for just a moment too long does he give in and face the elephant in the room. "You got a point... best not to have, what, a 17-year-old with anger issues?" he laughs, "involved in anything like this."
It's Sorbet's turn for silence as he watches Gelato toss down a rejected card, making the pile present once again. He sets down another meld, this time a quad of kings, on the table blithely. His hand is still bulkier than Gelato's measly four cards, but just a quick overview of the board shows his score is already racking up. Gelato lets out a low whistle; Sorbet shrugs, and another discard follows.
"Nero'd rather us continue with the vague emails and jobs that knock us further in the red than go to the extremes."
Gelato draws, a little exclamation of triumph escaping him as he places an Ace-2-3 down on the table. He discards and it leaves him with one card and a wicked grin over his impeding success, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He chances a glance at Sorbet, whose dark eyes haven't left him.
His eyes dart to the door, firmly locked, and leans forward across the table, hands on his knees.
"Okay," he sighs, and Sorbet's expression morphs into one of interest. "I did some digging last night. Couple of leads, we can each take one and figure this out pretty fast, I bet."
The soft tapping of Sorbet's foot against the carpeted rug underneath the grows more frantic as he puts down another set, a trio of 5's, and a 9 on Gelato's corresponding meld. He discards and he's left with one, having quickly gained ground on Gelato's lead in just one play. He leans back, a smile playing across his lips. "You've been in since I first brought it up, haven't you?"
Gelato tactfully ignores him, but they both know the answer is yes. Instead, he draws, and with an exclamation even more triumphant than the last, slaps down a 4 and throws his remaining card into the discard pile. "Rummy!"
Sorbet can't stop himself from grinning at his response, and he lays his remaining card down on the table, the ill-fated Queen of Spades. Gelato grabs their scorepad, the papers nearly depleted from their previous card games. He scrawls a G and an S on the paper, a haphazard line between the two, and starts counting his sets.
"Thirty, fifteen, five..." he counts under his breath, and jots down a proud 50 on his side.
Sorbet is still preoccupied, with several more melds to account for. Gelato waits for his response, chewing on the end of his pen. It doesn't take too long for his curiosity to be sated, as Sorbet looks up at him and gestures to the cards.
"Ninety-five," he offers, innocently enough, before lifting the queen. "Minus forty... is fifty-five."
"Goddamnit!" Gelato cries, plopping the pad down and crossing his arms. Sorbet laughs, a genuine one from his luck, but they both know it's ladened with relief as well. The tension between the two building over the past few nights had snapped, an unspoken agreement forged amid an evening card game. Gelato heaves a sigh, gathering up the mess of cards between them and maneuvering them back into their neat stack.
"How's my luck so rotten?" he asks, shuffling the deck with a practiced precision.
"I had an assignment early this morning," Sorbet quips, giving his boyfriend a mock look of sadness. "Don't tell me you forgot."
"I keep thinking your luck's gonna run out before we play cards," Gelato gripes. "Can't you be a dear and spin again before this next round?"
Gelato hands Sorbet the deck, and before he can withdraw his hand, the dark-haired man grabs it and presses a kiss to his knuckles. He cuts it, giving it one more shuffle before he deals. "Aren't you supposed to be discouraging me from that?"
Gelato's grin is infectious, and Sorbet feels the burn of resolve in his stomach. They were more than capable, unmatched in terms of teamwork, incredibly tech savvy and brutal to boot. If things went wrong, they'd figure it out as they've always done before. They'd dig their way out of this godforsaken mess with or without the rest of the team.
"It's not like it'll stop you," Gelato replies dryly, organizing his new hand. He looks over the cards, catching Sorbet's eye. "After this hand, we can look over what I found."
Sorbet nods, cards in hand. With some practicality and a whole lotta guts, they'd have this in the bag.