Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Midnight Crew was going up against a few members of The Felt again. Over what, is long forgotten by now.

HB was stuck with Clover, missing all of his hits on the lucky bastard. CD, somewhere lost(?) in the mansion as Trace follows behind. DD and SS back to back defending against Doze and Snowman.

Droogs kept his eyes on Doze and listened to Slick’s condition. “I told you I’m fucking fine!”

He didn’t ask the small man anything but an update of some kind was appreciated even if it was useless. He watched Doze slowly squint as if to think that Droog really didn’t want to waste any more time than was necessary and pulled out his revolver and shot the slow man in the kneecap. As soon as the green fool fell to the ground, grasping at his knee, he heard a sickening loud crunch and rip of a suit followed by his boss’s loud banshee-like scream. Droogs turned on his heel and aimed his gun at a fleeing Snowman. He withdrew his weapon and gave the weeping man his full attention.

Slick was bleeding heavily.

DD ran up to his boss, crouching down and checking where the loud man was bleeding from. His boss was swaying back and forth on his knees trying to stay up but landed on his right hand man’s arms. Droog quickly examined Slick and found his left arm was heavily cut into, barely attached to him.

“Sir, I need you to pay attention to me.” Slick forces his head up and cocks it to the side replying with a quiet grunt.

Droog holds him up by his right shoulder, keeping eye contact with him. He needed to make sure the boss doesn’t panic more than he is. “How’s your licorice supply.” He curtly asked.

Slick puckers his lips out and wets them. “The fuck you asking about that gay shit..?” Ah, of course this is how it’s going to be. Slick denies up and down he doesn’t eat that ‘sissy shit’ and does a poor job hiding the bags of licorice dogs. Especially when he knows someone is visiting his house.

Droog bites his lip, noticing Hearts Boxcars step under a door frame and halting at the sight of their wounded boss. The larger man gets to wrap the other's arm, swearing under his breath. Droog directs his attention back and gives Slick a hard slap on the cheek making the dozing man widen his eyes at the contact.

He lunges and snaps his teeth at Droog while HB works on making sure Slick’s wound stops bleeding. “You have the fucking balls to slap me, you useless prick?”

Droog nods. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to lay a hand on your delicate face.” He shoots back with tease.

Slick grinds his teeth. Boxcars nods his head towards the exit letting the well dressed man know they are good to go while Slick continues his insults.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Droog.” His eye twitches. “And don’t touch me!” He slaps with his left hand with no success.

He grimaced and looked down and his wrapped stub and then at Boxcars holding his detached arm. His blood runs cold and he starts babbling nonsense. Droog gently pushes his boss up and ducks under his right arm to lift him up. The brute gives them a worried look but Droog shakes it off.

“I’ll watch over the boss. Just go get Deuce and head home. I’ll keep you updated.” DD politely commands.

Boxcars left the two alone. Slick nudges Droog’s neck with his head. He wraps his free hand around the man’s waist and leaves the mansion before The Fet changes their minds.

XOXO

Slick’s right hand man set him in the taxi’s back seat and closed the door to grab the seat on the other side of him. Droog pushes his boss’s hat up and feels under his eye. The one that was hastily patched up before the arm incident.

Slick felt useless. He lost an eye and a damn arm to that broad. He couldn’t believe his current predicament and closed his good eye, leaning into Droogs touch.

Droog flinched slightly at the sudden affection. He’d never seen the boss so submissive. He resumes softly petting the scarred cheekbone, taking full advantage of it. Once his boss is well rested, he will resume being his vile self and pretend this moment never happened. Droog could deal with that after a couple of drinks.

The taxi stopped in front of a decent apartment complex. He walked to the boss’s door and tapped him on the shoulder. Slick grumbled and woke up from his nap and held his good arm up for Droog.

As soon as they entered Droog’s apartment, he threw his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter and dragged the smaller one to his bedroom. There wasn’t much in the den and kitchen, but his room had signs of someone living in it comfortably.

Slick noticed a worn out couch with some decorative throw pillows, a small table with some writing supplies, a box of playing cards and an empty glass that sat on a coaster. There was a cheap calendar hanging on the wall near his bedside lamp with a date circled. The man’s bed was nicely made, Slick noted as he was set down on it.

What in the gods name?

Slick glanced up still feeling woozy at Droog. He failed to shrug away as his trench coat was removed along with his hat, placing it on the messy table. Next, Droog knelt down in front of him. Slick jerked back as Droog reached his hand out.

“For gods sake, Slick. Calm down. I’m not sucking you off. I’m taking your shoes off.”

Slick looked away and took a deep breath in. He couldn’t show himself being submissive in any way. Hell, he felt great! — nope. He feels like utter shit right now and having his right hand man take his socks off is humiliating to him. At least he doesn’t help him out of his uncomfortable pants, but he kind of regrets not asking as he gets signaled to lay down. Uncomfortable as in they feel terrible to sleep in, not that he’s fucking horny. He wouldn’t be.

He listens to Droog’s walk to the couch removing his own coat, hat and shoes before laying down on his couch.

Slick forces himself up, but before he could say anything, Droog speaks, “You shouldn’t be alone right now, Sir. I’ll take the couch, it’ll be fine.”

He growls at Droog and lays back down letting himself be taken by his dreams. 

Chapter Text

Slick tosses and turns, groaning. Fuck, he feels terrible. Why does he feel like shit? He feels around trying to find his alarm clock. 

‘Did I not fucking set it?’ 

He squints his eyes open and as his vision adjusts to the light, panic starts to set in. He can’t see out of one eye, he remembers. Slick pushes himself up feeling painful throbs surrounding his missing eye and right arm.

Looking around the room, the man discovers this isn’t his home. He hops off the bed and to his feet, (Which he is glad he has both of.) and examines this new room. He first noticed a table with his ruined coat covering what he thinks are those tacky Gray Ladies magazines Droog collects, and an empty bottle of vodka.

Next, he looks to the side of the table finding Droog passed the fuck out and looking like utter shit. He’s seen him like this before after his wife died. Slick didn’t know much about his right hand man’s life outside of work except for his mystery lady.

Now that he knows where he is, Slick exits the room and into the bathroom. He turns the faucet on and cleans his face off with water the best he can. Then, opening the medicine cabinet he searches for pain killers. He grabs the only bottle he sees and reads the label.

‘The fuck is this shit for?’

Whatever it is, he’s pretty sure it’s not pain killers. He takes a quick piss break and skips on washing his only hand and walks into the living room.

There’s a nicer couch in here, a television with a coffee table. Slick catches sight of a frame on the wall. It’s Droog, who looks like he has a bit more life in him than usual, and what catches your eye is the tiny child in another frame but it’s laying on a table. A troll. Not sure how this picture is in good condition.

“G’mornin’, Sir. Nice of you t’ wake me up.” A gruff voice announces, spooking the smaller man.

Slick continues to look at the happy trolls on the table. “You didn’t mention you had a kid.”

XOXO

Droog rubs his eyes and grabs two glasses out of the kitchen cabinet and fills them up with water. After he hands a glass to his boss, Droog heads back into his room and digs in his closet and comes back and hands Slick some pills.

Slick looks at them disgustingly and takes them. The taller man just assumes he’s just cranky and takes a seat on the couch. Droogs bites the inside of his lip and sighs, retreating yet again into his kitchen and grabs ingredients out from the cabinets and starts cooking them breakfast.

They make eye contact and neither breaks it. Like hell if Slick is gonna pussy out of this. He’s a man and he’ll die as one.

“How’s the arm holding up?” Droog asks, bringing a plate of bacon and eggs over and setting it at the dining room table.

He examines the nub. “Still fucking gone, smartass.” Droog sits next to his boss with his own plate, arms shaking slightly. Slick doesn’t bring it up. It’s none of his business. Well, it might be. But he’s not going to ask.

The man shakes his head with a quiet chuckle. Slick grips the fork and raises a brow at him and watches him eat. “No. I mean how is it feeling?”

Stabbing the eggs he growls, mumbles and starts vacuuming his food. The other smirks as he returns his attention to his own plate.

Slick begins to fidget as silence fills the room. He’s always used to music or any sort of noise going on in the background. He decides to break it.

“So what’s Esca…Escee…Escit… uh…”

“ Lexapro, sir. ” Droog says barely above a whisper. Slick fumbles with his pants leg and glances at his partner in crime and back to the carpet. Droog is too busy admiring the kitchen counter to look at him.

He squints, “Are you dying or something?” He adjusts himself to sit facing Droog. He could’ve sworn he saw him jump. Has DD always been this transparent?

The man leans on the couch arm and finally gives his boss full attention as he nervously laughs. “No.” Is all he replies with. He’s giving Slick a piercing looking that’s threatening to break.

Droog is poked in the elbow with a spoon. “Come on, Droogy Woogy. You can tell poor lil ol’ me that you got old man medicine!” His boss snickered and then stopped suddenly.

Droog grabs the plates and escapes into the kitchen and begins washing the dishes. ‘Damn it, Diamonds. Get a hold of yourself! It’s too fucking early for this shit. What’s got ya all bundled up for?’

“ Holy shit .” Slick announces. Droog looks at his friend from the kitchen. He’s wide eyed and giggling to himself.

He jabs a finger in the man’s direction. “Don’t tell me,” he bounces on the couch. 

“ What? ”

“Your fucking penis doesn’t work!”

‘What.’ Then he feels something slice his finger. “Damn it!” And pulls his hand out the soapy water. “Fucking gods forsaken knife!”

Slick fucking howls. He’s slapping the couch, cackling as loud as he can. He’s chanting something about erections but Droog is too busy doctoring his finger to care.

He wraps his finger up and rubs the bridge of his nose. “ No, Jack. It’s not fucking erectile disfuction medication. It’s for anxiety. ” He finally admits it.

Slick halts, “You? Anxious? The fuck you fucking anxious about, Diamonds?”

Droogs fries the dishes and places them back into the kitchen cabinet. He shrugs, “ Dunno. Just was kind of born like that.”

XOXO

Slick scratches at his own neck, grunting in thought. “Oh. Hm…” He feels incredibly embarrassed and guilty now. “Sorry for bringing it up man.” He saw Droogs walk back into the den shrugging it off.

“Bound to come out of the woodworks anyways.”

Slick snickered. His phone buzzes and he takes it out, reading the message.

——

❤️: HOW YER FEELIN BOSS?

♠️: “how yer feelin boss”

♠️: better

♠️: a little fucking weird though

♠️: is this what they call phantom pain or something

❤️: IT'S NORMAL.

♠️: oh

♠️: hey

♠️: did you know droogs has a fucking daughter

❤️: YES.

♠️: why the fucking fuck has no one told me about this

❤️: SIR, WE CANNOT REPRODUCE.

♠️: why would that fruity bastard have a random picture of some fucking troll?

❤️: I DON'T KNOW BUT IM FUCKING HANGED OVER.

♠️: go drink some fucking water

——

His attention is dragged away when there’s a knock at the door. Droog looks out the peephole and opens the door.

“nnn-hey, diam—.”

Holy shit.

Slick points at his right hand man.

“ Droog what the fuck is this ninny doing at your front door?! ”

PI, aka Percy or Pickles (Slick will only call him PI or Pickles.) eyes darted over to the shorter man and Slick could've sworn he heard the bastard make a high pitched noise.

“we go… out for tea once a week?” Percy’s eyes looked back and forth to the taller man and to his boss. Droog rolls his shoulders and makes them pop.

“Can I not have a social life outside of the Crew, sir?”

Slick is going to kill him. 

Chapter Text

“ Droog what the fuck is this ninny doing at your front door?! ”

PI, aka Percy or Pickles (Slick will only call him PI or Pickles.) eyes darted over to the shorter man and Slick could've sworn he heard the bastard make a high pitched noise.

“we go… out for tea once a week?” Percy’s eyes looked back and forth to the taller man and to his boss. Droog rolls his shoulders and makes them pop.

“Can I not have a social life outside of the Crew, sir?”

Slick is going to kill him. 

XOXO

Sadly today isn’t the day he will murder Droog. He slides down into the couch and side eyes the two. “Get that freak out of your shitty apartment before I throw up.”

Slick rolls over to hide his nub but ends up laying massive pressure on it and the stitches rip open. He shouts and grabs it tightly and pushes himself off the couch, rushing himself to the restroom.

He doesn’t quite hear Droog or Pickle’s concerns as he slams the door shut and fumbles the locks. Slick stumbles to the sink and remembers that the medicine cabinet has no contents to help him with his current predicament and falls to his knees throws the sink’s bottom cabinets open and starts dragging out what he believes are makeup bags, biting his lip as he rips the bags open for something to close the wound.

The doorknob shakes.

Slick rolls his eyes and finds a long hair tie and wraps it tightly to his nub which is starting to bleed more as all he begins to hear is the sound of water as if he’s submerged in a pond.

XOXO

Droog on the other side of the door with the Inspector, is currently trying to brute force the bathroom door to open. All they hear is the bathroom being destroyed by the smaller man.

“nnn… gods. should i call for an emergency? im nnngonna call for emergency.” PI is stopped by the sight of the mobster kicking his bathroom door off its hinges which is then followed by Slick yelling.

Slick is almost knocked over. His right hand man enters the room. Droog mutters something about the mess and hoists Slick off the bloodied floor and pushes him into the bathtub.

Droog snaps his fingers at the detective, “First aid. Down the hall, to your left in the washing room.”

“nnuh! okok!!” Inspector scrambles out of the room in search of the first aid kit.

“Fuuuuuck. Who’vr stitched me up is fucking shit at it.” Slick slurs.

Calmly Droog replies, “That would be Boxcars.” He takes his undershirt off and tears a piece off and tightens it to Slick's arm. It would do best to slow it down before his boss totally bleeds out. Fuck, Droog sneers at the thought of the time and money he’d have to spend cleaning all of this shit up later.

“When’s the skeleton comin’ back??” Slick leans into Droog but he is suddenly hoisted up again.

Droog steps out his destroyed bathroom and leads out the front door. Slick’s head is supported as he is being carried to the nice 1959 Cadillac.

Droog sets Slick down but not letting go as he makes sure he doesn’t fall. He takes out his keys and unlocks the door and throws Slick into the backseat and takes the time to buckle him up before slamming the door.

Slick lays back and stares holes into the driver’s seat. Droog gets seated and starts the engine after a few failed tries and backs out of his parking spot and drives off.

XOXO

Slick huffs, “I thought Pickles was getting the kit thing.”

Droog quietly clenches the steering wheel and glances into the rear view mirror. “‘‘Twas to get the fool out of the way. Nothing else. I was already going to take you to the hospital after you had breakfast to be properly stitched.”

The corners of his boss’s lips go up. “Awe, ‘nd you’d risk comin’ home to a disheveled house?”

He shakes his head. “Someone’s learning big words today.” Droog jokes, earning a tired cackle from behind him.

“But f’real. Why’s the rat in your apartment? You two seem on good terms.”

Droog was starting to wonder why today was the day his boss was full of questions.

“I wasn’t aware we were playing 21 Questions.” He remarks.

Slick adjusted in his seat, leather squeaking under his weight. 

“I wasn’t aware of your new cock sleeve.” He jabs back.

Droog’s foot slides off the pedal and the car swerves around a bit before he gains control back. He keeps his attention on the road.

“Please do not use such words around me, Jack . He is merely an acquaintance outside of work. Do you expect me to not have friends outside of the three of you?”

That stung Slick but hearing him and the crew be referred to as Droog’s friends made him feel better. The taller one wasn’t much for genuine compliments. They usually were coated in sarcasm.

Droog, with his free hand grabbed a box of cigs and lit one up and took a long drag of it. “I’ll hope you forgive me for not reminding myself to tell Inspector I would be busy today.” He took a few more puffs before handing the rest of it to Slick which he happily accepted.

Slick, “Ohh, yeah. Last night was fuckin’ wild wasn’t it?”

Droog didn’t need to be reminded. He’s not even sure why they don’t recruit lackeys to do their work for them but Slick mentioned something about anyone they would hire would probably be a mole for any organization. It’s a reasonable fear but it’s not going to get them anywhere with it just being the four of them.

After a few more minutes the hospital came into view and Droog made a turn to the opposite side of the road and into a small quiet neighborhood. Slick immediately forced himself up and began yelling at the other man.

“You missed the fuckin’ turn! Don’t ya know your lefts from ya fuckin’ lefts??” He slurred.

Droog tilted his head in question as he slowly parked in a driveway and shifted in his seat to turn and check on his boss a bit better.

“Stop bleeding in my car.”

Chapter Text

Droog sits in the almost empty waiting room. It’s too quiet in here he decides after ten grueling long minutes. The ceiling light is flickering and buzzing, the receptionist is close to falling asleep at her desk; Oh, and lucky you, a man no smaller than Deuce enters.

The mobster straightens up in his seat and looks over the man. He looks familiar, but Droog can’t put a finger on it. Small man, no taller than five foot and half; a gross green covering the man’s body in what looks to be a familiar suit and shorts combo.

Before he could put a pin on it, it hit him as a nervous wreck that stood at an average height and looked like he was tweaking on some good shit wobbled in.

Droog shifted in his seat with one leg propped up on his knee and let his eyes drift to the cracked walls. If this city belonged to his boss then why is he letting places like a hospital look like a black market? He told Slick about treating the place that was currently stopping him from bleeding out that they could easily let them die on ‘accident’ if he keeps this up. Droog needed the man on a tighter leash.

In his peripheral vision, the smaller man took the seat right next to him. The waiting room was empty, Droog noted. Ah, yes. Droog remembered now. This must be number four, Clover. Droog has been told of Clover before and seen him from a distance a few times as the small creature seemed to always avoid coming into full contact from the crew but here he was now turning his head to the right hand man of the Midnight Crew.

“Hello, Diamonds. Lovely day isn’t it? I hope my pal didn’t cause a scene.” He gleefully spoke.

Droog all but ignored him.

He grimaced as his neighbor's chair squeaked. There was a pregnant silence and a nudge to his hip as Clover fully turned to face the taller man.

More silence.

Sighing in defeat, Droog rubbed his face and cocked his head to the man. Clover’s face was almost completely covered in freckles. His big wide eyes looking Droog over without a care in the world. What is he doing, Droog thought. Clover’s lips quirked up showing off a few pearly teeth. Perhaps they were bleached? No, Droog shook his head. Don’t bother over cosmetics right now, he had to tell himself. But that tacky green suit looked fairly good minus the color.

Droog started to tap his foot as he turned back to stare at the cracked wall and then to the clock. Clover initiated talk again.

“My my, the city mayor should do something about these withered buildings shouldn't they, Mr. Diamonds? If this world was like the Imaginary Realm then this would be solved quite easily.” Clover taps his tiny knees.

Droog almost gagged at the sight of a tuxedo top and shorts combo up close but it somehow fitted the smaller fellow who just wouldn’t stop blabbering about anything and everything.

“What do you want, Four?” Droog bit back a snarl.

“Nothing nothing. Wait, now that you’ve asked I was wondering how mister Spades was healing. I heard from Doze that Spade's arm was torn right off. Is that right? I wonder how one lives from that. That must’ve been one whole big mess to clean up.”

You know what, Droog thinks. He’s wasting his time here waiting on his boss to come out the door all stitched up and ready to go. He takes his phone out of his pocket, the screen lighting up showing a picture Deuce took of the two of them. His eyes softened before checking the time as swearing quietly as he stood up.

He’s so fucking late to catch up with the rest of the boys.

Clover watched amused as Droog rushed out the building and not paying him not one bit of attention. A lady’s voice spoke up and grabbed the man’s attention.

“Are you Mr. Droogs, hun? My patient said he was waiting out here for him. He’s requested to have him come to his room please.”

Clover nodded, tipping his hat to the nurse and following her to Slick’s room.

Chapter Text

XOXO

Slick opens his eyes as he lays in his hospital bed. The room is bright, he thinks and there are some machines beeping. He’s extremely sluggish and can barely stop his head from wobbling. They have some strange IV in his clammy arm. 

He feels terrible. Like total shit.

He’s about to rip the IV out and make his grand escape but a soft male voice stops him.

“How are things, Mr. Noir?” He asks in an eerie tone.

The hair on the back of his neck stands as he forces his eyes to focus on the short man sitting near his head. He’s wearing a dumb green suit and is flipping through some papers attached to a clipboard.

“The f-uck is a midget like you chattin’ me up i-n a place like this?” Slick curtly responds.

Clover leans out of his chair and grabs a small cup with a straw and holds it to the injured man’s face.

“Drink up. It’ll help you feel better.” He smiles and nudges the cup closer.

Slick considers just punching the brat but his energy is gone. He leans his head closer and takes the straw between his lips and draws water.

Oh, fuck yeah. That’s the shit.

The cup is pulled away from Slick and he throws a sharp glare at Clover. He was going to thank him but fuck this prick. He just took the best thing away from him and he’s ready to murder.

The fuck you snoopin’ at my files you freak, he wants to yell. But alas a sharp pain emits from his left arm, stopping him from acting hectic. Clover notices this and lays a soft hand on his head. Slick’s one good eye twitches violently at the touch.

Oh, he thinks. Clover’s fucking milking his luck right now real good and Slick is going to make sure the next time he sees him, that the small man’s head will be smothered in the dirt as Slick forces his head to stay in place until he stops moving. But knowing himself, he knows he won’t be the one to kill the bastard.

“You’re getting a blood transfusion.” 

Slick growls. “I don’t want no nasty bitch’s help! I can heal all fine on my own. Done it before plenty of times you fuckin’ prick.”

The hand leaves Slick’s head as Clover stands up.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood and I doubt the nurses or even your crew would let you leave now without the proper help. But no worries, Mr. Noir…”

Clover heads to the door to leave but stops as his hand lands on the doorknob. He turns back to Slick.

“You’re lucky I’m a suitable donor. I’ll be taking my leave now. I was only curious about how you were fairing.”

And then Slick was left alone again.

XOXO

Face stilled, eyes blazing, Droog pulls his car out of the hospital parking lot as fast and as safe as he possibly could. He takes one shaky hand off the wheel to let it roam the leather for his cigarette box hiding in a hidden compartment.

He takes one long and slow breath before he puts one in his mouth. 

If Boxcars caught you, you would care , he scoffed.

But Deuce…

Damn it all. As he continues a small distance he stops the car and reaches over, grabs the box and chucks it out the window. 

It’s only one , he says as he lights it. One smoke isn’t going to hurt anyone , he tries to convince himself.

There’s movement in the grass outside and a soft tap of knuckles against his car. He jumps and then turns to snap at the idiot who dared to bother him, blowing smoke in their face. “My car is worth more than you. Don’t fucking touch it with your grimy hands if you know what’s good for you.”

Oh.

Oh fuck. 

It just slipped his mind that Boxcars lives right across the hospital and has caught him red handed. Droog was supposed to stop wasting his life away with the nicotine sticks. He couldn’t. It was a crutch to him that he needed to make it through the week with. 

First, it was Deuce that came home from a solo mission and was telling him how he learned about “saying no to drugs” and how it affected the body and that he wanted him to throw his box away. But he couldn’t. That would be a waste of money.

Then it was Boxcars who was starting to notice that he was smoking a lot more and tried to recommend something else such as suckers. But Droog doesn’t like sweets. 

Lastly, it was his boss who came up after they had smoked together after a heist. Slick was finishing his second one as was going to head in as usual but Droog could feel himself being stared at as he lit his fifth one.

XOXO

…

Slick chewed at his lip as he watched his right hand man grab another smoke from the cigarette box laying on the outdoor table.

“Shit, are you smokin’ yourself to the fuckin’ grave as fast as possible, Dignitary?” He posed hastily as he snuffed his own stick out.

He didn’t turn to his boss, instead exhaling smoke from his nose. “I am still capable of doing my job quite well sir.” He threw back.

Slick slouches in his lawn chair, giving his friend a dumb confused look. “Dignitary. You can’t run for shit. How long can you run without stoppin’? I need you to be in at least decent shape if you’re going to work for me. I don’t need my right hand man dying because he’s wheezing after thirty seconds of a jog.”

Now that makes Droog slowly face Slick and drew another puff.

“ Droog , don’t fuckin’ spite me. I’ll kill you before that does. Do not fuckin’ test me.”

Droog crossed a leg over another, resting his dominant arm on one of the lawn chair arms and the other arm resting on his lap. His dull emotion did nothing to calm his boss who looked more than just angry. He just couldn’t put a finger on it. 

Slick frowns, all the anger leaving as fast as it came. He motioned towards Droogs back door. “Okay, look at it this way then.”

Droog raises a brow. “Humor me.”

“I will fuckin’ humor you. — Imagine that shit sending you six feet under, Droog. Are you going to fuckin’ let a dumb stick kill you? Let’s say you will.”

He doesn’t like where this is heading one bit and Slick notices Droogs deadly stare and leans back into his chair.

“I’ll stop smoking if that means you do too. We need you around.”

XOXO

“Earth to Diamonds-“ 

Droog blinks back to the present. He focuses on Boxcars and catches sight of a half burned cig. He looks down at his hands to see them empty.

“Droog, come inside and I’ll clean the backseat up. I’m assuming the boss reopened his wounds”

He nods quietly in response and unbuckles.

Chapter Text

Droog paces frantically attempting to grab and throw anything he’s able to get in his grips but Deuce is following where the taller man leers at and moves them away from danger.

“Damn it, Duece! Stop being a pest and mind your own business!” Droog snarls as he patrols Boxcars’ house.

“Nonononono! Let’s do some breathing exercises!” Deuce suggests loudly.

Droog cringed at the man before giving up with a heavy sigh of defeat. He stops his tantrum and follows along with Deuce with his breathing exercises both going at different comfortable paces.

Deuce goes as the usual recommended pace as one's therapist or doctor informs another but Droog breathes uneasily and heavily a few times before his breathing slows down to a normal speed. He starts coughing as an itch hits his throat and that’s cues Deuce on grabbing a glass of water real quick from the kitchen.

The small man hands his colleague his glass and takes a seat on the couch and pats the seat next to him. Droog doesn’t move from his spot and he doesn’t force him to. He already knows how Droog and the others respond to things so he leaves the man be. The perks for others thinking the demolition expert has the IQ of a newborn is that Deuce does indeed focus on information being told around him. The Felt or any other person would think he wouldn’t understand or remember— he doesn’t but he writes it all down in a notepad as soon as he gets home and hands it off to his diamond friend.

Outside, Boxcars was outside with his front half in Droog’s backseat trying his best to get all of the blood he could get out of the car before it did damage. At least it was leather, he sighed.

He took his head back out and grabbed the fresh handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. This is the best he can do and nothing is noticeably alarming if the man gets pulled over. Boxcars pushes himself off the carport and to his feet thinking on how to go about what he caught Droog doing.

The brute and the droll have tried many times before to step in and help him find ways to wean their friend off the sticks but it made him better at hiding that he had them in his possession. 

Boxcars rubbed the back of his nape and headed back into his shared house of his boyfriend.

XOXO

The large man heard loud muffling coming from inside his house not even before getting to the welcome mat. He bit the bullet and entered his house to see Deuce freaking out on their shared couch and Droog trying to console him whining on Droog's lap, in a bit of a too intimate pose for the larger roommate.

“What do you mean boss is in the hospital?! Is he ok?” Deuce probed.

Droog twisted the other from his lap to the couch cushion next to him, holding him by his wrists to keep him from grabbing onto him again.

“He’s fine, Deuce. He just- reopened his stitches is all.” He reassured.

Boxcars settles in the seat right by the right hand man, the cushion depressing under the brute’s weight and making the couch groan in protest. As soon as Deuce is free he rubs his wrists and grouses quietly making sure to turn his back to the two men.

Diamonds shifts towards Boxcars waving the smaller man off. Boxcars begins to speak before Droog is able to quirk his mouth, “So… boss’ in the hospital, yeah?”

Nodding, “Yes,” he drawls out continuing,

“I did though… I did run into Clover and the nervous one. He was too close for comfort.” He sighs.

Boxcars swears under his breath. “ Shit! Annoyin’ little brat… I always hated goin’ up against the little turd. He’s too good, I’ll admit it!” He shakes his head.