there's a drumming sound

[pageofwands]

[➠and Death came to town ➠Best Laid Plans ➠Friends like these]

Felix ran.

He didn't go straight to Brutus' apartment this time either, instead cutting into the edge of Pentacles territory and setting off a small stampede with a fire to create enough chaos to make sure he was lost in before he slipped back into the safety of Wands' turf. Again he scurried up the fire escape and in through the window, in silent like a thief, but this time no one was home. He left his boots and jacket by the door so he could strip off his shirt and wad it up to catch the blood from falling off his face. It didn't stop him from leaving any mark of his entry entirely, but it stopped from making a worse mess for Brutus' housekeeper to take care of.

Cold. He felt so fucking cold.

For the second time in a week he made his way to the sleek bathroom of Brutus' flat, all smooth chrome edges and stainless steel. Here he was less worried about making a mess, there was a drain set into the main floor of the bathroom for the disasters Felix brought to bear time and time again. Cranking the taps on the shower he divested himself of only what couldn't get wet before stepping in, peeling clothing off once under the spray of water and checking for damages. Very little - his previous injury against Death had healed enough already that it had not torn back open, and aside from a nick on his neck from the blade when Felix had struggled and the broken nose all the other bleeding was internal.

Could be worse. Could always be worse. Had been worse, many times. It didn't feel like it had ever been worse, though. He'd never lost his gun before.

He felt sick. Unmoored. Like he was still in the fight, adrenaline all over the place and on the tips of his toes like fight or flight. Like right before the bad part of a meth trip. He shuddered, spit up some blood that had gotten into his mouth, washed the rest of his mouth out while in the shower before stepping out and leaving the bloody shirt to soak in a small pooling of cold water at the bottom.

Felix left the bathroom to steal a pair of Brutus' sleeping pants and tug them on before returning to carefully shove his nose back into alignment in the mirror. The bright flash of the pain of it warmed him briefly, sharpened his focus as pain always did, and he could feel it latching into place and healing instantly so casual contact wouldn't dislocate it again. The little perks of being a Royal. It would heal with no sign it had ever been broken. How many times had that happened now? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? There was no way to tell. A normal person would have a fucking watermelon in the middle of their face by now.

The click of the lock came as Felix was putting a stabilizing bandage across it just to be certain. Not one person entering but two, Brutus' voice low enough that the words were indistinguishable but Felix knew the tone. All warmth and full of promises, like an earthquake in your soul. He could close his eyes and imagine all the times before it was aimed at him.

It wasn't, not right now. The higher voice of probably a woman with him murmuring in return, probably telling him his place looked so lovely or something fucking like that. Awkward. With where the bathroom was there was no way to slip out unnoticed.

He didn't have to. He heard Brutus' voice shift, that intimate murmur pausing, then the apologetic clear enough to be heard-

"Sorry, Doll, something's actually come up. We'll have to make it another night. Let me call you a car though."

"But we just got here-" she started.

"And now you know what I've got in store next time I ask you out, think of it as a sneak preview. Now let's grab a cold brew and head back to the lobby..."

Felix waited in the bathroom while Brutus led his lady friend back out of the apartment, only slinking out of it once he heard the door opening again and Brutus returning once more. Solo.

"I could have fucked off," Felix offered, shirtless, leaning against the door frame. He wanted a cigarette or a beer or something harder.

"No, she was from Cups anyway. Tricky information work, see what you can get without giving anything up in return," Brutus said with a one-armed shrug, taking in Felix's haggard appearance, but also his lack of significant visible injury. "That fire for the coins was you, wasn't it?"

Felix shrugged, was it ever anyone else?

Brutus shoved his hands in the pockets of his meticulously tailored and ironed suit trousers, leaning against the back of the couch to look at Felix across the few feet of space between them.

"Any reason?"

"Making sure I wasn't followed," Felix answered.

"Did you attack the Death icon or did he attack you?"

Of course Brutus knew what Felix had been up to the last few days, what his plans were. That 'I'll take care of it' meant taking a proactive stance. They had known each other too long for Brutus to not be the one person who could predict the living chaos that was Felix.

"Technically he attacked me," Felix admitted, before the more important, "He took my gun."

Brutus gave a tch and stood up, heading to the kitchen to get some liquor for the both of them. "So what? I'll buy you another."

Felix straightened away from the bathroom doorway to follow after, just a few steps behind.

"No, my gun. Mine."

That gave Brutus pause, stopping mid-reach for the tequila.

"... I didn't think that could be taken," he observed, carefully, slowly, brow furrowing just slightly in the way it always did when he had a problem to solve.

"Well, it fucking can. I tried to shoot him twice before, too, and it didn't go off either time. Empty barrel," Felix complained, running a hand through his damp hair, messing it up further and further with every pass. He hadn't told anyone that yet, and it felt a little better to get it out. Brutus was a monument of stone as he thought this over, heartbeats passing before he finished taking the tequila out and pouring them both shots before holding his arm out in invitation.

Felix took it, coming up to lean against Brutus' side, the space he fit perfect against under one arm, the bulk of Brutus against the rangy leanness of Felix. Brutus passed him a shot and they both knocked theirs back in unison before tossing the glasses into the sink. The arm around Felix's shoulders came up to drag fingers through his hair, neatening up the mess he'd made of it.

"We'll get your gun back. Temporary setback, that's all. Hell, bet he thinks he's got a pretty nice position because he took it, all the better to prove him wrong. You and me, like always," Brutus said, that warm low murmur near Felix's ear. "Come on. You look like shit. Let's get you into bed."

Brutus had a guest room. That wasn't the one he took Felix to.



Later, Felix lay in Brutus' bed next to him. The other man's hand was on his chest, but he could swear he felt a different one pressed against his skin, thinner and paler. He wondered where Death was right then. Wondered if he'd given a second thought to taking Felix's gun now that he had it. If he knew the way it felt like there was a shard of something cold stabbed between Felix's ribs that no press of warm, familiar hands was able to take away.

He was going to have to resort to explosions. There was nothing else for it.