Work Text:
Todd Hockney could hear them.
Every single night, he could hear them through the thin walls of their motel room, their moans and the headboard banging rhythmatically against the wall. Hockney lay on his bed and tried to muffle the noise by covering his head with his pillow but it didn't help. Every few seconds he heard a high-pitched yelps coming from Fenster and McManus's low grunting and groaning and after awhile he heard Fenster moan " Oh, Mac..." and one last satisfied grunt from McManus and all was silent.
Thank fucking Christ. Hockney thought. Maybe now I can get some fucking sleep.
No such luck. It hadn't even been ten minutes and they were at it again.
~~**~~
Hockney rubbed his sore, tired eyes as he downed his glass of Scotch in one go. He had a splitting headache due to the lack of sleep from the last three nights and the alcohol probably wasn't helping. He'd been trying to drink himself into sweet oblivion.
He slammed his empty glass down onto the bedside table table and stood up, fists clenched.
Enough is enough. They've been acting like a couple of horny teenagers since our hit on the NYPD. Hockney thought as he stormed out of his room.
He had his fist raised, ready to pound on their door, when the rhythmatic banging died down into heavy, ragged breathing.
" Five years together, Mac." Fenster's voice drifted through the door. He wasn't breathless anymore, he sounded sincere, his usual stutter suddenly gone.
" Things are going great. I mean, look at us. All the jobs, saw more money than we can even count and the sex. Sex is always fantastic...and I love you."
Hockney froze, his fist poised in mid-air.
" I'm serious." Fenster continued, his voice dropping to a vulnerable murmer. " Marry me, Michael. Let's get legal. Or as legal as two guys like us can get."
There was a long silence. Hockney stood in the hallway, his face twisting from pure rage into a mask of profound, agonising awkwardness.
" Five years, huh? It feels like ten." McManus finally replied, his voice sounding gruff. " In a good way. Yeah, okay. Let's do it."
Hockney turned and quickly retreated back to his room and the rhythmatic banging started up again.
~~**~~
The next morning, Hockney trudged into the kitchen to see Fenster leaning against the counter looking suspiciously glowing, while McManus was aggressively stirring his cup of coffee, as if he was trying to drill a hole through the ceramic. They were standing closer than usual, their shoulders touching, a quiet private hum of energy between them.
Hockney was exhausted, he felt the beginnings of a migraine and he knew his eyes were bloodshot. He glared at Fenster and McManus, his dark eyes narrowing at them venomously. He saw the way Fenster was looking at McManus and felt a surge of sleep-deprived irritability.
" Can you two not?" he grouched at them as he sat down at the kitchen table. " For at least five minutes?"
McManus glared back at him, his cold piercing blue eyes looked as though they were staring right through to his soul and wanted to eat him alive. It was a look that unnerved Hockney ever since he met McManus in the lockup back in New York.
" What's your fucking problem, man?"
" My fucking problem is that I keep hearing you two! Every single night. And last night, I heard it all. The proposal. The five years and the I love you. I heard the whole goddamned thing!"
Fenster grinned at him. " You jealous Lover Boy? You want a ring too?"
Dean Keaton walked into the kitchen, carrying the blueprints for the boat job. He poured himself a cup of coffee and watched Hockney having his meltdown. He spread the blueprints out on the table when Hockney realised something. Keaton was having absolutely no reaction to Fenster and McManus's sickening lovey-dovey display.
" Wait a minute....you've known about them this whole time?"
Keaton shrugged. " I've known about them since the lineup. I've heard rumors about them over the years during my time with the NYPD but I never really believed them. Until I caught them in the back of the van after the hit on the NYPD and believe me, you got the PG version compared to what I saw and been trying to forget ever since."
Hockney stared at Keaton and towards the happy couple. Fenster was nuzzling McManus's neck-actually nuzzling-and murmuring sweet nothings in McManus's ear. They were in a world of their own where no one else existed. They were supposed to be the tough, notorious duo, Fred Fenster and Michael McManus.
They certainly weren't acting tough right now.
" And you didn't think to say anything, Keaton? A little warning would have been nice! Maybe a hey, the hothead and mumbling Puerto Rican are building a life together, maybe buy earplugs because Fenster is a screamer in bed?"
" I figured you'd find out eventually. It builds character."
~~**~~
The job on the ship at San Pedro pier went off with surgical precision. Fenster and McManus might be driving Hockney insane, but he had to admit, they were good. They were very good and both moved through the ship in astonishing synchronicity.
Once the smoke cleared, the Hungarians were killed and the money collected, Hockney looked up to see McManus and Fenster were both gone.
" Where'd they go?" He demanded Keaton, who was counting out his share of the money.
" Who knows. Probably back to the motel room to have celebration sex." Keaton replied distractedly.
" Then I'm going to hit a bar. You coming?"
" We need to lay low." Keaton reminded him, stuffing his cash into his duffle bag.
" I am not going back to the motel room to listen to Fenster's screaming."
" We have no choice. We need to lay low until the heat dies down."
~~**~~
McManus and Fenster weren't at the motel. They'd been gone a week before they finally turned up again.
Fenster was wearing the same Hawaiian shirt and white pants that he wore at the disastrous Saul Berg job and McManus was wearing all black, as usual, but he was wearing a new, short-sleeved, black satin shirt that Hockney hadn't seen before.
" Where the fuck have you two been?" Hockney hissed at them.
That's when he noticed the matching gold wedding bands on their fingers.
" Oh no. Don't tell me you two didn't...and is that a fucking tan, Fenster?"
" It's a glow, Lover Boy. The 'just married' glow. Very exclusive, you wouldn't know."
" You two are professionals! You walk away from the crew for a fucking week and what happened to laying low?"
McManus smirked at him. " Don't look at me, Hockney. This was your idea."
Hockney's brain stalled. " What the fuck do you mean by that?" he demanded him as Fenster started nuzzling McManus's neck again and Hockney's skin crawled.
" The day after the hit on the NYPD, remember? You were yelling at me, saying that you had a problem with us. You specifically said-and I quote-that 'My fucking problem is that while you and Fenster are off honeymooning in California, the rest of us are sitting here holding our dicks'!"
Fenster nodded. " He did and it was very inspiring. So we went to Big Sur. Thanks for the tip." he put his arm around McManus, his brown eyes sparkling mischievously.
" I was being sarcastic. I was being an asshole!" Hockney protested.
" Oh we know. But we still thought it was a good idea." Fenster shrugged and they headed to their room and within five minutes, they heard the all-too familiar rhythmical banging of the headboard against the wall and Fenster's loud moaning and McManus's grunts.
Hockney jumped up and headed for the door.
" Where are you going?" Keaton demanded him.
" To a bar to drink myself into sweet oblivion and to invest in some earplugs. Don't wait up."
~~Fin.~~