Archive of Our Own

He groaned, the shrill sound of an alarm piercing through his head like a bullet. It ripped him from the depths of his peaceful slumber, his well-needed rest that is, as he couldn’t so much get anything more these days than just get a simple moment of quiet.

He reached out blindly from under a crumpled pile of papers and files, his fingers fumbling across the coffee table until they finally found the alarm clock and silenced it. He laid still for a moment, eyes shut, as he couldn’t muster up enough strength to lift himself up from the couch. He hated it to say the least, not wanting to accept that he had yet another full day of work covered up for him, wanting rather to just go to sleep forever if it meant that he wouldn’t have to lift another finger ever again. But sadly, that was all just pure fantasy for him.

The couch beneath him was stiff, the cushions worn down from too many nights spent in the same exact uncomfortable position. He knew well enough that he couldn’t keep on falling asleep like this, but another part in him could care less about it. Even around himself, his apartment was a mess – papers scattered across the floor, half-empty coffee mugs abandoned on every surface, and his laptop screen still glowing faintly, barely remaining on the edge of the table. He didn’t remember a lot from last night, but it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like this either, buried in unfinished work.

Legs dragged a hand across his face, blinking as he glanced at the clock. His stomach twisted. He had slept in, again.

“Shit..” he muttered to himself, pushing upright as he ignored the involuntary pain shooting up from his back. The papers that had been stuck to his chest and legs slid to the floor. Rubbing his temples, trying to fight against the headache that had become his constant companion over the last few weeks.

His hand ran through his tangled mess of hair, already dreading what lay in store for him today. Every part of him screamed for more rest, but his mind immediately went to the to-do list for this day. The deadlines. The many bullets he would have to dodge. The meetings he would already be late for.

Dragging himself to his feet, barely even conscious as he stumbled towards the kitchen. Grabbing a cold cup of coffee from the counter, not wanting to bother making a new fresh one. The bitter taste hit his tongue, but it did nothing to clear the fog in his head. He could feel his body protesting every movement, muscles aching from the twisted positions he’d been sleeping in, but he had no time to care. He had to get to work. 

With a frustrated sigh, he tossed his half-empty cup into the sink, the dull clink of porcelain against metal barely registering through the cloud of exhaustion in his brain. His legs felt heavy every step of the way back into the living room, as if they would give out any second. He glanced for a second to the shoe rack by the front door, the usual burgundy coloured shoes gone. So she must have left on time for once, he just hoped that his daughter didn’t share that much sympathy for his poor excuse of a father.

Legs moved back to the living room, shoving a pile of files into his worn-out bag before glancing at his laptop, several missed texts from his friends and colleagues took up the majority of the screen. To which he grumbled some more.

He shut the laptop down for good and dropped it into his bag with a bit more force than necessary. For a second, he stood frozen, his hand still gripping the edge of the couch. His vision blurred, as the weight of it all – work, expectations, his own relentless drive – suffocated him.

He couldn’t stand.

Legs sank back down onto the couch, just a second he told himself, slumping forward as his hands found their way to his head as the pounding headache got the best of him. His fingers pressed hard against his forehead, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped anymore if he was honest.

He stared at the floor, the papers scattered across it like remains of some war he couldn’t win. It was at times like these that a darker thought always managed to creep up on him, maybe it would be better to just catch a bullet to his head than sit around in a pile of suffocating work. It lingered, cold and heavy. The mobster in him – the man who faced danger, violence, death countless of times – knew it wasn’t a real option, but the fantasy of a clean, quick end felt too tempting. And escape.

He wasn’t afraid of a fight. Never had been. But this? This was different, this wasn’t a fight. It was like drawing in an icy cold lake in winter, his body ached in ways he hadn’t known it could. After what felt like hours, Legs finally forced himself to rise, his mind going up to the clock on the wall.

He knew he was late too. He didn’t need to remind himself of how much he was failing to keep up.

He got dressed, his movements all the way through slow, almost mechanical like. It was as if he was purposefully wasting time by now. 

He slung the bag over his shoulder, ignoring the way it felt heavier than it should, and dragged himself toward the door. His head spinning as his hand hovered over the knob for a moment, he could feel the weight pressing down on him bit by bit, but he couldn’t afford to call in sick. Or even fully stop. Not yet. Not when everything stood on the line.

I’ll rest when it’s all done . The thought, once a comfort, now felt like a continuous lie he kept putting himself under.

The chill in the air allowed him to breathe normally, waking him up more than the cold coffee could, sadly not enough for him to feel better though. If he was honest, he expected more of it to help him, wanting to take the walk to their Hideout instead of driving. However, now what with the streets filled with bustling people trying to get through to make it to their own work, he wished he had taken the car instead. The city buzzed around him — horns blaring, people shouting, the smell of street food mixing with the exhaust fumes. It was all too loud, too fast, too alive. Everything around him felt wrong, his world spun on slower as if everyone around him was in slow-motion. He felt disconnected from it all, his feet moved on autopilot, carrying him on his way as his mind was a million miles further away from consciousness.

He glanced at his watch, eyes barely focusing on the time. Late again. Of course. Mentally preparing himself for Johnny, who would probably call him out outright. And he wasn’t sure he had the strength to argue back this time around.

Legs turned the corner, the familiar sight of the hideout looming ahead. The old building blended into the city around it, nondescript and easy to miss.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin off. The pounding in his head hadn’t let up since this morning, and the dull ache in his muscles only grew worse with each step. He needed rest—real rest—but the idea of stopping, of actually letting go for even a moment, made his stomach twist with guilt. There was still too much to do.

Legs crossed the street, narrowly avoiding a cab that honked aggressively as it swerved past. He didn’t even flinch. His mind was elsewhere, running through the list of things that needed doing once he got to the hideout. The next meeting. The next plan. The endless cycle.

He just prayed that at least the workload would be less of a disaster this time around. He grabbed hold of the backdoor to the building, entering as the quiet from inside felt at least better compared to the noise of the city streets. Not for long, unfortunately, soon as the other mobsters would arrive and break out into another squabble over the ongoing rivalry against the Agosti’s.

The mobster could hear voices further down the hall, closing the door behind him to move inside to the bar and billiard table. His heart pounded, not from any adrenaline or threat, but from the simple effort of being awake, being here, trying to pretend like everything wasn’t unravelling at the seams. He neared the second best person by the bar, putting his bag on the counter as he sighed, the man next to him taking notice of his aggravated mood, shot him a glance.

“You doing good, Legs?” Joe “the scar”, usually the more reserved type, asked as he took a sip from his glass.

Legs took a second to blink, his head snapping up at the sound of his name, “Fine, just exhausted a bit..” he chuckled lightly, putting on a forced smile as he turned to lean against the counter with Joe, who merely shrugged, “I get it, The Agosti’s kept me up all night too,” he mentioned, taking it in a different sense of meaning, swirling the liquid inside his glass before he turned to his colleague, “You got those reports done that I asked you for?”

“All here.” he turned to his bag, taking out a few sheets of paper. The edges were frayed, corners bent from being shoved carelessly into his bag. Normally, everything he did was neat, organised, precise - that even caught the attention of Joe, he didn’t know him well but he at least knew a bit to know that Legs wouldn’t be the type to even leave his house without a tie.

Joe took the sheets with a raised brow, his gaze lingering on Legs a little longer than he should have. He didn’t say anything, though, as usual. Just gave a nod, and left it at that. “Appreciate it,” Joe muttered, flipping through the reports quickly before putting the sheets away on the counter, wanting to store them away later. He took another sip from his glass, leaning against the bar with the kind of ease that Legs envied.

The mobster exhaled, his back pressing against the counter as he tried to find some comfort in standing still. The smell of cheap liquor and stale smoke filled the air the next, the low murmur of voices from the other room barely registering over the static in his brain. Though even in the midst of all this chaos and unease did he find the heart to pick up the conversation, wanting to distract himself, “Agosti’s, huh?” Legs finally replied, his voice rough. “Heard things got messy over there.”

“Messy’s one word for it,” Joe grumbled, glancing sideways at him. “But you know how it goes. We get it done, we move on.” He paused, studying Legs again. “You, though – doesn’t seem like you’ve been going through anything better either lately.”

Legs forced a chuckle, running a hand through his messy hair, feeling the tangles he had tried to brush out from his rough sleep. “It’s just .. a lot,” he admitted, “With everything piling up on my end. It sucks that Dan is still in that asylum.” he rubbed his eyes. Missing the partnerwork he put up with their old accountant together, sure the man was as frigid as a squealer in interrogation but the two had always managed to click, whether that be because of their shared intelligence or their love for numbers, they had managed to keep work light on both of their ends. Now, with him having gone crazy and stuck being in psychiatric help, everything was relying on him to be done.

And he didn’t exactly feel happy about it as his current state was showing.

Joe had tilted his head slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He didn’t press further, just shrugged against and downed the rest of his drink before moving around the bar behind the counter. The silence between them stretched, thick. Legs kept his eyes on the floor, tracing the cracks in the tiles as he tried to suppress the wave of exhaustion crashing over him.

The room had started to fill up, some of their business associates waited their time off playing a round of billiard, and others invested themselves in poker and alcohol. He caught a glimpse of a couple of their associates shooting glances in his direction, clearly waiting for a chance to chat or throw some casual remark his way. Normally, he would have slipped into the rhythm of it with ease, throwing out jokes or making light conversation. But today, it didn’t feel right. Not even close. Opting to just keep his mouth shut for the time being as a means to not have them on his back.

The entire hideout was practically alive with energy, and every sound, every voice made him more agitated. His patience grew thin as the low hum of conversations around him blurred into one, the faces indistinguishable, just a sea of voices that seemed to grow louder and louder. Legs’ hands clenched into fists, his knuckles going white as the tension built in his chest. He just needed a moment, he told himself — one quiet moment to think, to breathe, to gather himself before he fell apart completely.

But there was no escape. Not here. Not today.

And as soon as he heard footsteps approaching, he braced himself, knowing someone was about to pull him into a meaningless conversation that he didn’t even have the energy in the first place for.

“Hey, Legs, you good, man?”

The question, ever unbearable, came from one close-man “business” man as they called him. It was Dan, of course. Always the friendly type, just with a terrible gambling addiction. Legs forced himself to look up, plastering a strained smile onto his face, even though it felt like his facial muscles were working against him.

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, his voice tight. “Just… tired.”

Dan didn’t seem to catch the edge in his tone, nodding along as if he hadn’t noticed the agitation radiating off of Legs. “Yeah, I hear you. Been a long week, huh?” he paused, before then immediately jumping into the question burning in his mind, “So, Got any tips for tonight’s game?” He motioned to the paper in his hand for today’s horse race, eyes glinting with excitement.

Legs barely registered the question. He just wanted to tell him to get lost, to just leave him alone for five minutes, but instead, he just shrugged, trying to keep his response as non-committal as possible. “Nah, not really. Haven’t been keeping track.” rubbing the back of his neck.

Dan gave him a long look, as if waiting for Legs to offer more. When it became clear that wasn’t happening, he shrugged, letting it slide. “Alright, man. Let me know who you’re betting on later though” as if he would just carelessly spend his money on horse races these days. With that, Dan finally left, wandering back to the poker table without a second thought.

To which the experienced mob doctor exhaled, slowly. His fingers twitched, the urge to just leave growing stronger by the second. But he knew he couldn’t. Not without raising suspicion, not without some noticing. He was here in the first place, he had to stay.

Eyes fixed on the floor, tracing the cracks in the tiles again, absent-mindendly letting the storm rage on in his mind. Now that he looked at it, the cracks in the floor felt too much like the ones forming in his life, growing wider with every passing day.

“Legs!”

There it was, the final call that could hopefully help him in getting out of this joint earlier than he theorised. Louie neared his dear friend with wide arms and a bright smile, typical of him. It was that kind of energy that usually made Legs feel at ease, and made him laugh. But today, the mobster could only manage a small, half-hearted grin in response, just barely tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He pushed himself off the bar, grateful that their meeting would finally begin but dreading the interaction.

“Look at you,” Louie laughed as he wrapped one arm around Legs in a brief, crushing hug. “You look like you’ve been pulling triple shifts.” no kidding.

“Something like that,” Legs muttered, his voice low, barely able to summon the usual banter. “It’s been a long week.”

Louie leaned back, studying him with a critical eye, his smile faltering for just a second. He had a way of noticing things, even when you tried to hide them, sure he was a bit of an airhead but he knew the profession he was in well. And he also knew that his friend would never leave the house without a tie. Or even forget about styling his hair, he could laugh, he looked practically like a bird’s nest with his hair all messy. Although Legs' eyes were bloodshot, that’s what concerned him the most, the dark circles under them seemingly grew deeper with every passing hour. “No kidding, huh? You been sleeping at all?”

Legs chuckled, a hollow sound that didn’t reach his ears. “I’ve had worse,” he deflected, shrugging off the concern. He couldn’t deal with someone else probing into how bad things had really gotten. Especially not someone like Louie.

He however didn’t buy it, though. He never did. But instead of pressing, steering him away from the bar and toward the open door to their meeting room. “Well, come on man before you fall over” he giggled, leaving Legs to give a weak chuckle in return. 

The mobster quickly took his bag from off the counter, With the arm around his shoulder, he let Louie guide him into the meeting room. He hadn't slept more than four hours in the last three days, and he was fearing that the effects of that were already starting to take hold of him sooner than he would have thought. He had to shake the exhaustion off quickly, that threatened to drag him under, he couldn’t allow himself to give in now, not when there was still so much to do.

“Johnny’s ready with the details,” Louie continued, rolling his eyes with a grin. “But Kenny’s already complaining about something. You know how he gets — calls himself ‘The Problem’ like it’s a badge of honour, I swear that guy just likes hearing his own voice”

“Yeah,” Legs muttered, trying to inject some life into his voice but falling short. Kenny always did this. Complained first, got nothing done later, yet somehow made it feel like everyone else’s fault when things went south. Normally, the mob doctor would have found it annoying but manageable. However, today, with Kenny being in attendance, he would have just rather taken the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

As they entered, Legs caught a glimpse of the rest of the crew. Johnny Tightlips stood near the front, leaning over a table, flipping through some papers, already focused on the day’s agenda. Kenny “The Problem” sat off to the side, gesturing wildly as he complained to anyone who would listen. He caught a snippet of the rant: something about how their last deal had “screwed him over.” He scoffed, typical.

But as he scanned the room again, he noticed something—or rather, someone—missing. Tony. The guy who could silence the noise in an instant, only by his presence alone. There was a strange kind of relief and dread that washed over Legs at the realisation, part of him wished Tony were here to take over, to handle the problems that were steadily burying him. The other part, the exhausted, frayed part, felt like it had dodged a bullet, glad to not be under Tony’s critical eye just yet, even if the two were very good friends.

Johnny caught Legs’ hesitation, always attuned to the details. He looked up from his papers with a quick nod. “Tony’s gonna be here later,” he explained, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. “Had to drop off Michael at school first. Family stuff.”

Legs gave a tight nod. "Family stuff." He could envy him, Tony, that is. For him to balance his double lives seemed so easy in Legs’ eyes, especially with his role as a father. It seemed so easy for him, like he could step in and out of the chaos without getting pulled under. 

Second in command. That’s all that he was, wasn’t it? The one Tony trusted to keep things in check when he wasn’t around. Except these days, it felt less like trust and more like a burden he couldn’t shake. Every time Tony left him in charge, it was another reminder of how much rested on his shoulders. And today was no different. The endless cycle of problems, the same faces, the same gripes. 

Louie paused by the door, his arm still over Legs’ shoulder. He glanced at his friend, concern flickering in his eyes again, but this time he didn’t voice it. Instead, he slowly took his arm off while giving a soft pat on his back before taking a seat right at the edge of the long conference table.

Johnny gestured for him to come closer, clearly ready to brief him on whatever mess was waiting for them. Legs dragged himself to the capo’s side, feeling that deep exhaustion clawing at his insides. "So, what's on for today?" he asked, his voice sounding flat even to his own ears.

Johnny didn’t miss a beat. “We’ve got some issues with the shipments. A few people need checking in with—standard stuff, but the Agosti’s been making it harder to keep things running smoothly.” He shot a quick glance at Legs, not bothering to look up from his own mess of paperwork, “And, as usual, there’s the money situation. That’s gonna need sorting.”

Legs rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to get off the headache that was already starting to form. “Great. Just great.” Putting his bag on the table as he pulled out all the necessary assignments.

Johnny gave a short nod, though his eyes lingered on his colleague, as if he were trying to read between the lines. He didn’t push, he was sharp, and knew better than to pry into someone’s personal life. Instead, he leaned against the table, flipping through another file as Legs finally took control at the head of the table, a place he never felt quite comfortable in but had become all too familiar with.

The tension was as ever thick with Legs trying to get the rest of the associates just now entering the room to calm down, his irritation building as Kenny, on the opposite side continued with his whining complaints. He held a good hand on the situation for the first part, exhaling quietly, having managed to get hold of the room altogether, at least for now. He went on with today’s briefing, up into later hours.

"...and that's why we need to shift focus to our eastern territory the most," he muttered, pointing weakly at the spreadsheet on the board. His voice was steady, but the exhaustion bled through every word. “If the Agostis push too far west, we’ll risk losing key supply lines. We need to tighten our grip on the east, shore up defences, and—”

He faltered for a moment, his head spinning, eyes blurring as the words on the spreadsheet started to lose meaning. He could feel the room growing quieter, the attention of everyone shifting more sharply onto him. It was beginning to grow worse, the exhaustion was clawing at his mind now, threatening to shut his body down entirely.

Kenny, sitting across from him, scoffed loudly, as if the silence gave him permission to speak again. “Shift focus to the east? You’re losing it, Legs. Agostis are already all over the west! We should be reinforcing there, not wasting time on a side they aren’t even touching yet.”

Legs’ jaw clenched, his patience thinning as Kenny’s voice scratched at his nerves. "They're not touching the east yet because that's what they want us to think. They're baiting us with these small moves in the west. If we throw everything there, they'll come at us from the other side, and we’ll be spread too thin to respond. It’s basic strategy.”

Kenny snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, maybe we wouldn’t be spread so thin if we had enough men to cover all sides.”

Legs’ fingers dug into the edge of the table, his voice strained. “We have enough men. What we don’t have is time or room for mistakes. That’s why we need to be smart about this.”

The rest of the crew exchanged glances, tension thickening as Kenny stared him down, pushing harder than usual. It was like he could sense Legs was off today, that he wasn’t at full strength, and Kenny was all too willing to take advantage of that.

Johnny, ever the mediator, cleared his throat. “Legs is right,” he said, his tone calm but authoritative. “We spread ourselves too thin in the west, and we’re leaving ourselves open to a surprise attack. The Agostis play dirty, we know that. We can’t fall into their trap.”

Kenny threw up his hands, clearly not satisfied but reluctant to fight against both Johnny and Legs. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when they start picking us off in the west.” He left it at that, folding his arms. Legs didn’t respond, too drained to engage any further. Instead, he turned back to the spreadsheet, trying to refocus the best he could, but his vision swam, the numbers blurring into one another. Taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"We'll need to reroute some of the shipments," Johnny put-in, his voice quieter now, lacking its earlier force. "Make sure nothing important gets hit. Jimmy, you’ll take the lead on this. Sonny, I need you to keep eyes on the east. If the Agostis so much as sneeze in that direction, we’ll need to act fast." the capo directed himself to two of the best men he had in mind for this position, knowing full well that they wouldn’t disappoint him, either way, they had no choice to.

Sonny nodded, already scribbling notes, and Jimmy gave a thumbs-up from the back of the room, his usual casual grin replaced with something more serious.

The meeting dragged on, minute by minute, as Legs pushed through, barely holding it together. It felt agonising, his body screamed for rest, but his mind was a constant loop of unfinished tasks that he was supposed to keep up with throughout the whole day. And it wasn’t even 12 pm yet. His vision blurred again, and he had to grip the edge of the table to even manage keeping himself upright, his heart pounding in his ears.

By the time they were finished, the room had fallen silent again, the crew exchanging looks with each other, waiting for any final orders.

“Alright,” Johnny muttered, rubbing his temples. “That’s it. Keep your focus sharp, and be ready to move when we get word from the east.”

As the crew slowly started to file out, murmuring among themselves, Louie lingered by the door, watching Legs with concern. To which Johnny had noticed it two, the both of them had already been on their way out, sure enough that their friend would follow along without a problem but this time, he looked hesitant to step even another foot forward. His hands gripping the edge of the table as he overlooked the various files and paper spread across the table.

The two shared a glance, to which Johnny decided to approach first. He shot Legs a pointed look, his voice soft but firm. “You alright, man?”

Legs didn’t even look up at him, just nodded weakly, yet the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my plate.”

Johnny didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, well, even the best of plates break if you stack too much on them.” he muttered, nearing his colleague as he put a hand on Legs’ shoulder, “Don’t let this take you down, Legs. We need you.”

Legs forced a smile, but inside, he felt like he was already breaking with that metaphor. “I know. I’ve got it handled.” he shot back, pushing the hand off of him as Johnny remained in giving him one of his icy cold, lingering looks before eventually nodding and heading out.

His hands trembled, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the stress, the exhaustion, or the growing sense of dread he’d been burying deep inside for far too long. The words had barely registered in his mind, and he could feel the looming sense of expectations that Johnny had over him.

He hated how right he was, unfortunately. It stung, he knew that he was reaching his limit, so why bother just going along with it further? What choice was he even left with. This wasn’t a world that gave you time to rest, to step back, to heal. It was a burning pile of relentless work, and the only moment it allowed you to even breathe freely, was the very moment that the sharks would circle you and drag you down once more.

And for Legs, this was his whole life. He should have gotten better at handling these types of problems but yet, he wasn’t. It only frustrated himself further.

Despite all these thoughts going on, he had missed one crucial matter, that was until the footsteps began ringing in his ear as he felt a hand on his shoulder once more. A different hand however, one that should have felt right to be there.

He stepped forward, eyeing him more closely now. “You okay?” Louie asked.

“Fine,” he lied, the word coming out too quickly. He forced a smile, before he rubbed at his eyes. “Just tired. Long night.”

Louie’s voice came again, softer this time, “Legs, maybe you should take a break..”

A break? The words echoed in his head like a foreign language, one that made his body stiffen. There was no time for breaks. Not ever. If he stepped back, even for just a second, everything would fall apart. If he didn’t push through, if he didn’t handle it.. Who would?

“I can’t,” Legs said, the words slipping out before he could stop them, harsher than he intended. Already in the process of putting his work back into his bag. “There’s too much going on. I’ll rest when it’s all done.”

Louie’s grip tightened on his shoulder, just for a moment. “That’s what you always say, Legs. ‘I’ll rest when it’s done.’ But it’s never done, is it? There’s always something.”

Legs stayed silent, staring at the table. Sure he was right, nothing ever was truly done, there was always another shipment to secure, another rival family to worry about, another bullet to dodge. He was sure enough that each one in their family had their own weight to carry with it as well.

“You think Tony doesn’t notice?” Louie’s voice was gentle, but his words cut through the fog in Legs’ head. “Or Johnny? Hell, I’ve seen you in here day after day, burning yourself out. You’ve got nothing left, man.”

Legs’ heart raced, the pressure building in his chest. He forced a laugh, a weak, humourless sound. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a lot of work, that’s all. I can handle it.” Yet even as the words left his lips, he could hear the lie in his own voice. He wasn’t handling it. He was barely keeping his head above water, and every day felt like a new wave crashing over him, threatening to drag him under.

He pushed back Louie, slinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder as he was prepared to leave it all behind now. Bless his friend, cuz even as he was faced with silence, he still pushed through, not wanting to leave this conversation at where it was, his voice softened even more. “Legs, I get it. I really do. You want to be strong, to carry all of this. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Legs squeezed his eyes shut, the pounding headache intensifying, his mind racing with all the things that still needed to be done, all the problems waiting for him the moment he walked out of this room. The Agostis. The shipments. The crew.

But then there was Louie, still there, waiting, patient. And for a brief moment, Legs let himself imagine what it would be like to let go. To step back. To breathe.

He shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered, almost to himself. Finally, making his decision, “If I don’t do it... everything will fall apart.” Louie sighed, a deep, weary sound, like he had lost a fight. For once, he was a loss of words, he feared that his friend was already too far gone. He knew him well, and he also, sadly, knew just how much Legs could lose himself if the work was too demanding.

Legs knew it just as well as he did, yet he didn’t press on to argue, to push back, to tell Louie that he just didn’t understand, he couldn’t find the strength to. So he simply passed him, heading out into the main room as Johnny was already nearing him with crucial news.

He held one hand deep into his pockets, while the other held an already lit cigarette, “Just to let you know,” he began, “Tony won’t be coming in today. He ran into some – car-related problems.”

Legs blinked, trying to process what Johnny had just said despite his foggy mind. He groaned, realising that he went through all that trouble just for the boss to not show up at the end of it all, “Will he at least show up tomorrow?” he asked.

Johnny nodded, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, “Course.” he replied, as Legs simply hummed in acknowledgement. The both of them were never much to aimlessly chit-chat around, so Johnny left to head to the smoking room. While the news barely made a dent into his thoughts. Though he counted himself lucky, at least he had an excuse now to head out early out of work.

With one hand already on the doorknob of the exit door, a familiar voice cut through the din once more. To which he flinched.

“Alright,” Louie started, leaning casually against the doorway as if he hadn’t been watching him like a hawk all day, “you don’t wanna rest, you don’t wanna let me help with your load .. Fine.” His tone was easygoing, but there was an underlying firmness to it that didn’t suit him right, “At least let me drive you home.”

The mob doctor paused, with his hand resting on the doorknob, he turned slightly. “Why should I let you drive?” he muttered, trying his best to hide the tiredness in his tone.

Before his friend answered, a loud crash of thunder erupted outside, followed almost immediately by the steady drum of rain against the glass window attached to the door. Legs stared perplexed at the downpour with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. He could practically feel the storm laughing at him. Of course, he just had to forget to check the weather broadcast.

He exhaled sharply, the urge to facepalm creeping up on him. Instead, he ran a hand through his tangled hair, feeling the knots and wishing for a moment he’d taken just a second to care earlier this morning. Everything had been moving too fast. And seeing as there would be no way he was willing to walk all the way back in this heavy rain, he obliged.

“Fine,” he said.

Louie grinned, yet he didn’t say anything more. He just grabbed his jacket and motioned for Legs to follow him outside. The rain hit them both immediately, cold, but Louie didn’t seem to mind. He moved with a certain ease, like someone who’d seen enough chaos in life to find humour in even the small annoyances.

Legs, on the other hand, could barely summon the energy to keep his head down as they rushed toward the car, rain soaking through his clothes in seconds. The wet chill clung to his skin, but at least it numbed some of the tension gripping his body.

They reached the car, Louie unlocking it with a swift motion before gesturing for Legs to get in. “Your chariot awaits,” he joked, trying to keep things light, though there was no hiding the concern in his eyes.

Legs slid into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second as the rain hammered against the car’s roof. He could feel the warmth of the car’s interior start to seep into him, and for a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to relax.

Legs didn’t answer for the remaining time, staring out the rain-splattered window as the car pulled away from the hideout. As they drove, could the mobster let his shoulders slump from all the stress, leaning into the car seat as he listened to the rhythmic sound of raindrops pounding against the car roof, it created a sort of strangely comforting track to his worries. So much so that he couldn’t catch himself to stay awake, as even his eyes began to half-close, letting the low murmur of the rain drown out the chaos swirling in his mind. The world outside was blurred by sheets of water, transforming the familiar landscape into a hazy dream, and for the first time all day, he felt somewhat at peace in this environment. Even if it sounded childish.

Legs turned to look out the window again, watching the water trickle down the glass in thin streams, mingling and separating like the thoughts in his head. The dark sky felt fitting, mirroring the weight he carried. But for a brief moment, he allowed himself to picture it differently. The storm washed instead away the noise, the worries, the pressures that grappled him.

As they drove on, the rain continued to pour heavily, even when they reached his apartment building. The two got out, Legs having to gather himself once more after that ride, quickly scrambling to his feet as the two booked it from the streets up into the building. Laughter bubbling up between them despite the storm.

They stumbled inside, both panting and laughing, water pooling at their feet while the rest was left soaked in. The lobby was dimly lit, quiet and with no one around did the two take a quick moment to lean against the wall, shaking the rain off their clothes and their hair.

“Guess I should have brought an umbrella,” Louie said, trying to catch his breath.

Legs wiped his forehead, grinning. “You mean that thing that was sitting in your car the whole time? Yeah, that might’ve helped.”

“Shut up,” Louie shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile. The playful banter felt good, a reminder of their long friendship and the support that had always been there, even when Legs had attempted to push it away, their connection always found a way to heal through anything.

Once they reached the floor, Legs led the way to his apartment, fumbling with the keys as he unlocked the door. Upon their entrance were they greeted by the sight of a cluttered living space—papers stacked high, empty coffee cups littering the counter, and here Louie had thought that this problem of his friend was just a minor set-back.

The smaller man stepped in behind him, taking a quick glance around before shaking his head. “Man, this looks worse than that time where Johnny lost his mind and just ripped apart a bunch of paperwork.”

Legs sighed, letting the door shut behind them. “Yeah, well that’s what stress does to you. It’s just—” being cut off as Louie had put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, his smile bright as ever, “Go on and sit down, we can worry about the mess later.” he advised, enough for Legs to give in as he exhaled slowly, opting to follow his guide rather to continue putting up a fight.

As he took off his drenched jacket, throwing it carelessly to the floor, he dropped heavily onto the couch, feeling the pure exhaustion in his muscles as he grumbled, muffled by his face being planted deep into a pillow. If anyone dared to command him to do so much so as to even lift one finger off this couch, he would be a dead man for sure. He didn’t want to move at all anymore, just letting the ache that wrapped around him like a heavy blanket take hold of him.

Louie, however, remained on his feet. He moved around the living room, his gaze sweeping over the clutter with a mix of concern and mild amusement. “You know, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to summon a small army of coffee demons with this mess,” he joked, his tone light.

Legs lifted his head slightly, squinting at Louie. A small smile breaking through the fatigue. Not having enough strength to answer back though.

“Maybe you should consider a coffee detox,” Louie suggested, finally settling onto the arm of the couch beside him. “Or at least a clean-up party.”

The exhausted mobster chuckled, the idea somewhat amusing to him. Though it did sound like a dream come true, he was an organiser afterall, but now being able to properly register this mess which laid all before him, he could go crazy.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside, the air felt lighter. “Okay,” Louie finally said, leaning back against the couch. “Let’s take a break first. Then maybe we can plot a course for this—” he waved a hand toward the chaos all around them, “—disaster zone.”

“Deal,” Legs managed.

The grin on Louie grew a thousand times, clearly pleased with the agreement. “Alright, movie time it is!” He jumped up from the arm of the couch, surveying the kitchen as if considering options. “What do you want? Popcorn? Chips? You at least must have some frozen pizza, right?”

Legs rubbed his eyes, the fatigue still clinging to him like a stubborn shadow. “Pick whatever,”

“Perfect! I’ll be right back,” Louie called out, disappearing into the kitchen. The sounds of rummaging left him worried over what his friend might be up to, cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of dishes, and then the unmistakable crinkle of a snack bag.

With the last of his willing strength, he sat up, leaning back against the couch as he let out a slow breath. He glanced around, the clutter still overwhelming but somehow less daunting with Louie nearby. The storm outside roared, rain drumming against the windows, but inside, the atmosphere felt warm and safe. Even through the drenched clothes he still wore.

A few moments later, Louie returned, balancing a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “The ultimate snack combo,” he announced triumphantly, plopping next to him down on the floor.

Legs couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Hey, you don’t have that much food to begin with, I had little to work with!” Louie replied, grinning widely as he handed Legs the bowl. “Now, what you wanna watch?” asking as he was already reaching for the remote, just barely sticking out from a paper pile.

The mob doctor took a moment to think, but in the end, just shrugged it off and said “Surprise me,” taking a handful of popcorn. The buttery taste was quite a good mix to it, and he savoured it as he leaned back into the cushions.

Louie had already started to flick through channels until he found a classic action flick— one specific McBain movie that the two loved dearly, explosive, loud was one of the reasons why he had picked it as well. Just perfect for drowning out the noise of the world outside. As the opening credits rolled, he settled in, glancing at Legs. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, though the truth was a complicated situation. He felt grateful to say the least for Louie’s presence, even if the weight of everything still loomed over him. But for now, he let it go, focusing on the ridiculousness unfolding on the screen.

As the movie played, the two friends laughed at each point, a moment of peace wherein Legs had completely forgotten how good it felt to just laugh. For the first time in a long while, he felt joy, a warmth spreading in his chest that made all the worry and doubt wash away in a millisecond. While the storm raged unrelenting on the outside, inside, the world felt small and cosy. 

As the credits rolled, the final explosion fading from the screen, Louie turned to glance at Legs. His friend, who’d started the movie looking half-dead from sheer exhaustion, now looked like he was on the very verge of passing out at any second. His eyes were half-closed, head dropping forward as he tried his best to keep it upright in his hand.

Louie gently nudged him, to which he instantly flinched, “I’m fine!” he shot back, almost instinctively as he jerked awake, the words sounding weak even to his own ears. Upon realising, he slumped back into the couch, “Oh..” he muttered.

“Sure, you are.” Louie nodded, sitting down on the couch beside his friend as he rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue. “No, really, Just… .”

Louie’s eyes narrowed, not buying it for a second, but yet there was no judgement in his expression. Just concern. “I’ve seen ‘fine,’” he mentioned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to meet Legs’ buried face, “And this ain’t it. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t gotta run yourself into the ground for us. We need you alive, not falling apart.”

Legs swallowed hard, staring at the floor again. Even through the carpeted floor, where there cracks clear as day visible, spreading, creeping. And to think that he thought he was out of it, getting to rest for just a second from the stress. He could feel them, in himself. Louie’s words hit somewhere deep, somewhere he wasn’t ready to face yet, but a part of him knew he was right. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

But what choice did he have?

“I just… I don’t know how to stop,” Legs admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the closest he’d come to saying out loud what had been gnawing at him for weeks, maybe months.

Louie didn’t answer right away, just let the silence stretch between them for a moment. Then, with a soft chuckle, he slapped Legs lightly on the back. “That’s the first step, man. Admitting it. The rest? We’ll figure it out. But you don’t have to do it today. Hell, you don’t even have to do it tomorrow. Just… don’t burn out before you get a chance to slow down, alright?”

Legs opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. His body was giving up the fight, and the couch seemed to sink deeper, pulling him into it. He gave one last weary glance at Louie before sighing, finally surrendering to the exhaustion. “Fine,” he whispered, the word hanging in the air, like a promise he wasn’t sure he could follow through with.

“Good,” Louie said with a small smile, not leaving any time but to pull his friend into a well-needed hug. Legs tensed at first, surprised by the sudden embrace, but the warmth from Louie’s hug quickly melted his resistance. He let out a long, shaky breath, arms carefully wrapping around the back of his friend in return. Leaving the room quiet, save for the soft sound of rain pattering against the windows.

Just as the two separated from it, did a knock come from the door. It was sharp, insistent even, as it cut through the momentary peace. Both of them stiffened at the sound, with their positions in the mob, they remained on edge as it was uncommon for anyone to come here at this time.

Louie frowned, rising to his feet. Once he had opened the door, with the figure standing on the other side, did the thunder outside release a loud crack ominously in the background. His face was serious, the usual calm collected side on him absent as his eyes scanned the room. 

“Sup boss.” Louie greeted, his voice as casual as ever as if he wasn’t surprised one bit to see him here of all places.

“Tony?!” Came croaked from Legs as he instantly stood up from the couch to meet the eyes of their boss, looming in the doorway, drenched from the rain. Tony’s eyes cut to Legs, taking in his fatigued appearance, the barely standing posture, the hollow look in his eyes. He raised his hand, “Sit down, Legs,” motioning, his tone low but firm.

Legs froze, the command hitting him harder than he expected. For a moment, he considered resisting—arguing that he was fine, that he didn’t need to be babied like this—but he knew better. Tony didn’t make idle suggestions so that he reluctantly sank back onto the couch, gripping the armrest.

Tony moved further into the room, glancing at the mess, papers, empty coffee cups, the clear signs of a man having been stretched far too thin. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he took a slow breath, taking his wet coat off before finally speaking.

“Gentlemen,” he began, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made the two instantly more alert. “You were lucky.”

“Mm?” Louie crossed his arms, leaning against the arm of the couch, trying to pick up on what the boss was getting at with this.

Up until Tony held up a clear plastic bag, the crinkling sound finally drew their attention to it as the two hadn’t picked up on it earlier, “These were the last donuts I could get, the whole store was packed full.” He mentioned.

It took a second for the words to register in Legs as Louie was already cracking a grin, taking the bag from him as he cheered, “Alright!” taking out the small box of delicious goods. As Legs was simply left to blink, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he stared at the bag. Especially with Tony’s deadpan delivery had that made the both miss the obvious.

“Tones..” he muttered, his voice low and clearly unamused, or maybe just too drained to deal with anything of this sort. To which, the boss could only smirk. Putting his coat away on the coffee table for now as he seated himself beside Legs on the couch.

“Johnny had filled me in over the phone, he also mentioned your – rather absent character. You came in today with no tie on either.” 

Legs groaned, keeping his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to let his head rest in his hands. Knowing that it would have come one way or another, but hearing it out loud somehow made it worse. He just hoped it hadn’t looked too obvious to the crew or else he would never hear the end of it from their comments. “I’m handling it," he mumbled, though he didn’t even believe his own words anymore.

Tony's sharp eyes never left Legs. He let the silence stretch for a moment, as if giving the weight of Legs' weak reply room to settle in the air. Louie, now munching on a donut, glanced between the two, sensing the shift in tension but wisely keeping quiet for once to just let them talk it out. He had done his part, yet even he only knew Legs at a later time. Tony had been there since day one with Legs so if anyone could get him straight, it would be the boss himself.

“Handling it?” Tony repeated, his voice calm but edged with doubt. He didn’t need to raise it to make a point, the way his gaze bore into Legs was enough. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re about two steps from passing out or worse.”

Legs clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching in his lap. “I know,” he muttered.

“You’re not feeling your best,” Tony said evenly. “You’re burning yourself out. And not even admitting to it, that’s the problem.” he pointed directly at his friend to make his point.

Legs exhaled slowly, the fire in him dimming as quickly as it had flared. He was too tired to fight, too drained to push back. And Tony, for all his tough exterior, wasn’t here to lecture him—he was here because he cared. Even if that seemed unbelievable at the moment, it did however make it harder to keep up the facade.

The boss leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hand instantly moving to the back of his friend, “Look, Legs, you’re one of my best guys. I can’t afford to lose you. More importantly... I don’t want to.”

Legs swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to respond. He hadn’t realised just how close he’d been to the edge—how visible it was to everyone else, even when he tried so hard to hide it.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, finally letting some of the vulnerability slip through the cracks. “But it’s just... everything. It’s too much.”

Louie, who had been quietly watching, set the donut box down and moved closer, as he seemingly sensed when to step in. His usual playful demeanour was replaced by genuine concern. “Then let us help,” he said, “You don’t have to carry all this alone.”

Legs looked between the two of them, he had to push back the few tears that had started to bubble up. When he looked at them, their faces earnest, their concern clear as day, he just wanted to cry. Heck he wasn’t even sure for why he doubted their help. They were his friends, since the early days, of course they would care for him. It just felt as if someone else was controlling him at this moment, like he was living amongst them as someone else. For once, he let his defences drop, “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His entire body crashed as he couldn’t keep it in any longer, to which Louie knowingly nodded, “You have all the time in the world to figure it out. But first, you need to rest. Actual rest. None of this ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’ crap.”

Legs let out a tired chuckle, feeling the weight of everything lift just slightly. Maybe, just maybe, accepting help wouldn’t label him as weak after all. 

"Alright," he said quietly, leaning back into the couch, sniffling a bit as he crossed his arms over his lap, “I’ll take a break,” right at that moment, arms wrapped around him once more, as he was pulled back into a deep hug by Louie.

Tony, observing the scene, chuckled softly. “Let’s get you back on track, Legs, We’ve got your back.” to which he nodded slowly, a genuine smile appearing on his face as he cuddled up with Louie.

“Yeah,” as he began to look around his apartment once more, “I guess I could use a little more help around here.”

“More than a little,” Louie replied, grinning. If anything, they were gonna need a whole troop of cleaners for this mess. Tony stood up as well, hands on his hips, surveying the battlefield of clutter around them. “First things first, let’s get rid of some of this chaos. It’s a health hazard,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Legs lightly chuckled but felt a flutter of appreciation in his chest. 

For the remaining time, Tony took it upon himself to restore some proper order into the main room, just enough of it to make the floor at least visible in some bit again. Despite Legs’ insistence that he could help, Tony made it extremely clear: it was an order for him to stay put on the couch and rest. With no other choice, Legs had to oblige, knowing better than to argue with him when he was in this kind of mood.

Meanwhile, Louie busied himself in the kitchen, preparing a cup of hot chocolate that he was sure of would help his friend. As he returned with the mug, a question however remained heavy on his mind as he handed the cup over to Legs. “Hey, shouldn’t Piper be here as well?”

Legs shook his head, blowing gently on the steaming surface of the drink. “No, she’s sleeping over at a friend’s house and Cornelio is for the rest of this week at my ex.” Taking a sip from the mug. With him being occupied now with the pleasing hot cup of chocolate, were Louie and Tony left to continue their work.

Tidying up the remaining chaos in the room. Clearing away the folders and scattered papers as a means to help lift the burden of their friend.

“You know, maybe we should get into cleaning as a second operation,” Louie joked, tossing a crumpled piece of paper into the trash. “We got a knack for this.”

Tony chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll rather stick to just being a mob boss.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing through the now-brightening space. With each item they disposed of, Legs’ apartment transformed, and it felt as if the air grew lighter with every box cleared. It was starting to take form, after a while, they paused for a moment, standing a bit further back to survey their work. The floor was now mostly visible, and the sunlight was beginning to filter in through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. The storm having lightened up.

“Not too shabby,” Tony said, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. “I think we’ve done a good job”

“Yeah, but I think we should’ve set up a ‘before and after’ photo,” Louie replied, glancing around as he caught his breath. “This is practically a miracle.”

Just as they stood there, did they finally take notice of the person they did this all for. Just as they had hoped, Legs had drifted off on the couch, his head nestled against a pillow, breathing softly. The lines of stress that had marked his face were finally relaxing, the exhaustion from weeks of overwork finally taking its toll as he practically slept like a baby – silent and at peace.

The two chuckled, keeping their voices low to not disturb him as Louie draped a blanket carefully over the fatigued form of their friend.

“Let him sleep,” Tony replied, his voice gentle. “He’ll thank us later.”