felyn
“Stop right there!”
s**t, s**t, s**t.
The sound of his own feet was thunder in his ears as Matteo bolted over a low wall and hit the ground running like a bat out of hell. He was faster than the old shopkeeper with his rotund belly and greasy, slicked back hair but that didn’t mean one of his sons wasn’t going to come barreling after him any moment. It wasn’t just speed that was going to help him evade this and he ran without looking back, weaving in and out of people on the sidewalk.
He could hear them gasping and yelling as someone less graceful tried to do the same thing around him.
It made him smirk as he took a sharp corner and bolted down a street that lead toward the downtown marketplace. The stalls were busy enough, usually, that he felt like he could blend into the crowd. At least if he could just get out of his black hoodie, maybe, and take down his hair and just… blend into some other scene like he had been there all along. He opted to rip his hoodie free, bundled up the bottle he was toting in it, and toss it over a bush as he passed; he didn’t look back, he didn’t want to know how close they were or if the bottle had shattered on some unexpected root or rock or whatever.
He pushed into the crowd with ease and immediately began a speedy dart for the busiest, most packed section near the jewelry and handcrafted cosmetics. It was only then that he glanced back over his shoulder to see Wally’s oldest sons closing in on the marketplace, looking confused enough to tell him that he had lost them for the moment. It wasn’t good enough, though. They were hotheads with more brawn than brains and they were probably gonna stalk around like angry silverbacks until they wore themselves out. He reached up into his hair and pulled the tie free so that waves of dark locks spilled around his shoulders.
Now he just needed an alibi…
He shifted closer to the stalls, looking for anything he could use to hide himself or occupy himself with, when he saw a familiar pale, sleight man. The walkway a*****e.
Good enough.
“Hey, don’t freak out,” he slid up to him, sinking a hand into his without question and lacing their fingers together. His chest was heaving and he could feel his pulse in his neck, thumping wildly with every deep breath he took. The glance over his shoulder didn’t show any sign of the men but he couldn’t be sure. “Just stand here, would you? And try not to b***h too much.”
s**t, s**t, s**t.
The sound of his own feet was thunder in his ears as Matteo bolted over a low wall and hit the ground running like a bat out of hell. He was faster than the old shopkeeper with his rotund belly and greasy, slicked back hair but that didn’t mean one of his sons wasn’t going to come barreling after him any moment. It wasn’t just speed that was going to help him evade this and he ran without looking back, weaving in and out of people on the sidewalk.
He could hear them gasping and yelling as someone less graceful tried to do the same thing around him.
It made him smirk as he took a sharp corner and bolted down a street that lead toward the downtown marketplace. The stalls were busy enough, usually, that he felt like he could blend into the crowd. At least if he could just get out of his black hoodie, maybe, and take down his hair and just… blend into some other scene like he had been there all along. He opted to rip his hoodie free, bundled up the bottle he was toting in it, and toss it over a bush as he passed; he didn’t look back, he didn’t want to know how close they were or if the bottle had shattered on some unexpected root or rock or whatever.
He pushed into the crowd with ease and immediately began a speedy dart for the busiest, most packed section near the jewelry and handcrafted cosmetics. It was only then that he glanced back over his shoulder to see Wally’s oldest sons closing in on the marketplace, looking confused enough to tell him that he had lost them for the moment. It wasn’t good enough, though. They were hotheads with more brawn than brains and they were probably gonna stalk around like angry silverbacks until they wore themselves out. He reached up into his hair and pulled the tie free so that waves of dark locks spilled around his shoulders.
Now he just needed an alibi…
He shifted closer to the stalls, looking for anything he could use to hide himself or occupy himself with, when he saw a familiar pale, sleight man. The walkway a*****e.
Good enough.
“Hey, don’t freak out,” he slid up to him, sinking a hand into his without question and lacing their fingers together. His chest was heaving and he could feel his pulse in his neck, thumping wildly with every deep breath he took. The glance over his shoulder didn’t show any sign of the men but he couldn’t be sure. “Just stand here, would you? And try not to b***h too much.”
kuropeco
Auguste, for once, didn’t have Pasha with him. He had decided to take a trip to the marketplace without her, though it still felt strange to do anything without his companion these days, considering she was practically the only thing he spoke to. Lorne and Nadia were busy with wedding things, and while Auguste couldn’t blame them, it did make one feel a bit lonely.
But he couldn’t rely on his dog forever, And the marketplace was a good enough option to be able to get out and wander around a crowded place without actually having to interact with too many people. Auguste had never minded crowds; there was something soothing about being surrounded by all the noise and laughing and milling about, something that made him remember he wasn’t back on Thrymr, secluded and away.
He was standing in front of a stand that had homemade jewelry made from wire and rocks, Auguste peering at a tall rack that housed several different types of earrings. He was debating getting something for Nadia as a gift; maybe she’d like some of the turquoise ones. They would match her personality, at the very least, and her hair.
He had just unhooked a pair from the rack and was holding it up to his face to look at more closely when something - someone - bumped into him, arm to arm. Then there were fingers curling through his, sliding together with their palms pressed together, and Auguste’s head jerked around, eyes wide and startled, instinctively giving a jerk of his hand.
“Que diable - “ The French exclamation left him before he could stop it; Auguste’s brain worked better in his native language, instinctively grasping at the familiar syllables.
Then he realized who it was and stared more.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Let go!”
But he couldn’t rely on his dog forever, And the marketplace was a good enough option to be able to get out and wander around a crowded place without actually having to interact with too many people. Auguste had never minded crowds; there was something soothing about being surrounded by all the noise and laughing and milling about, something that made him remember he wasn’t back on Thrymr, secluded and away.
He was standing in front of a stand that had homemade jewelry made from wire and rocks, Auguste peering at a tall rack that housed several different types of earrings. He was debating getting something for Nadia as a gift; maybe she’d like some of the turquoise ones. They would match her personality, at the very least, and her hair.
He had just unhooked a pair from the rack and was holding it up to his face to look at more closely when something - someone - bumped into him, arm to arm. Then there were fingers curling through his, sliding together with their palms pressed together, and Auguste’s head jerked around, eyes wide and startled, instinctively giving a jerk of his hand.
“Que diable - “ The French exclamation left him before he could stop it; Auguste’s brain worked better in his native language, instinctively grasping at the familiar syllables.
Then he realized who it was and stared more.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Let go!”
felyn
“No, shut up,” the words were pointed, but low.
A pair of dark eyes swiveled down to meet the startled ones looking up at him. Behind them, he could hear one of the men.
“Where the ******** has that piece of s**t got to?”
He was talking to himself, Matteo could tell by the angry way he was growling curses under his breath. If Auguste didn’t realize the two were connected immediately, the way his body went rigid and his fingers curled tighter was enough of a sign. Around them, he noticed people turning to cast angry, annoyed glares at the man in his wake or putting hands over their children’s ears.
“Just… stand here and try not to draw attention to me.”
He could feel his heart thundering in his chest - he should have been afraid, but he wasn’t. There was a small curl at the corner of his lips that suggested maybe, just maybe, what he’d done was more about the chase than the loot. Truthfully, Matteo always felt most alive when adrenaline was pumping through his veins. If he could outsmart these lugs then he knew the tequila would taste even sweeter. Victory was a fine chaser.
A hand reached out to pluck free a crystal flower and, like any other lover, he turned to hold it up against Auguste’s pale hair - it was oddly affectionate from an outside perspective, even if his eyes were empty and devoid of an attachment up close. It twirled in his fingertips.
“It matches your eyes.” Well, it was almost nice. If bland.
A pair of dark eyes swiveled down to meet the startled ones looking up at him. Behind them, he could hear one of the men.
“Where the ******** has that piece of s**t got to?”
He was talking to himself, Matteo could tell by the angry way he was growling curses under his breath. If Auguste didn’t realize the two were connected immediately, the way his body went rigid and his fingers curled tighter was enough of a sign. Around them, he noticed people turning to cast angry, annoyed glares at the man in his wake or putting hands over their children’s ears.
“Just… stand here and try not to draw attention to me.”
He could feel his heart thundering in his chest - he should have been afraid, but he wasn’t. There was a small curl at the corner of his lips that suggested maybe, just maybe, what he’d done was more about the chase than the loot. Truthfully, Matteo always felt most alive when adrenaline was pumping through his veins. If he could outsmart these lugs then he knew the tequila would taste even sweeter. Victory was a fine chaser.
A hand reached out to pluck free a crystal flower and, like any other lover, he turned to hold it up against Auguste’s pale hair - it was oddly affectionate from an outside perspective, even if his eyes were empty and devoid of an attachment up close. It twirled in his fingertips.
“It matches your eyes.” Well, it was almost nice. If bland.
kuropeco
Auguste’s mouth opened in outrage at being told to shut up, an indignant shade of red flooding his cheeks - but he didn’t get a response to actually respond with this outrage, because there was a hissing voice somewhere behind them that sounded, to Auguste’s mind,somewhat less-than-friendly. And one look at the way the other was stiffening beside him, grip tightening on his hand, made it almost immediately clear that the two things were related.
Auguste was regretting coming outside.
“Are you on the run or something?” he asked, voice low, gritted between his teeth. “Because if you are, I’m not going to play these sorts of games with you.”
He wanted to wrench his hand free; the warmth of the man’s palm against his own was an unexpected and unfamiliar weight, but something about the furious and venom filled tone of whoever was looking for this guy stopped him from doing exactly that. He wasn’t exactly trusting that whatever had been done was worth protecting, or pretending otherwise, but he knew a dangerous voice when he heard one.
The flower held up to his head made him give a long stare back in return, Auguste’s expression dubious. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw a ripple in the thick crowd; a shifting of people as someone tried to shove their way past in what was clearly an impatient and aggravated manner.
Auguste sighed internally.
His expression changed, shifting from something akin to annoyance to something lighter and more carefree instead. Auguste leaned in close, pressing his free hand to the man’s chest, his other curling more securely around the fingers that held his.
“Thank you, mon cher,” he said, in silken tones of sweetness that were borderline sarcastic, but just reigned in enough not to be. “You’re always thinking of me.”
He patted the man’s chest, swaying against him, smiling sweetly, though his eyes were sharp.
“How very thoughtful of you.”
Auguste was regretting coming outside.
“Are you on the run or something?” he asked, voice low, gritted between his teeth. “Because if you are, I’m not going to play these sorts of games with you.”
He wanted to wrench his hand free; the warmth of the man’s palm against his own was an unexpected and unfamiliar weight, but something about the furious and venom filled tone of whoever was looking for this guy stopped him from doing exactly that. He wasn’t exactly trusting that whatever had been done was worth protecting, or pretending otherwise, but he knew a dangerous voice when he heard one.
The flower held up to his head made him give a long stare back in return, Auguste’s expression dubious. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw a ripple in the thick crowd; a shifting of people as someone tried to shove their way past in what was clearly an impatient and aggravated manner.
Auguste sighed internally.
His expression changed, shifting from something akin to annoyance to something lighter and more carefree instead. Auguste leaned in close, pressing his free hand to the man’s chest, his other curling more securely around the fingers that held his.
“Thank you, mon cher,” he said, in silken tones of sweetness that were borderline sarcastic, but just reigned in enough not to be. “You’re always thinking of me.”
He patted the man’s chest, swaying against him, smiling sweetly, though his eyes were sharp.
“How very thoughtful of you.”
felyn
“Too late.”
It was his only response, once again displaying how much he didn’t care about Auguste’s feelings in the matter so long as his own were justified. The only thing he cared about, really, was not getting punched in the face. If this guy was going to just glower at him all indignant-like then he would take that over meathead behind him.
What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the display of unnerved affection that suddenly washed over this pretty, pale thing. The blank look in his eyes flickered to a blossoming curiosity and even if he’d tried, he couldn’t stop the way his eyebrows rose a little above his dark gaze. His caramel skin was dark but it didn’t quite hide the heat that rose to his cheeks when the other man pressed a hand flat to his chest. It was more intimate than just holding hands and he was entirely unprepared for it, belying his rough and tumble demeanor just a little.
“Are you French?” It was honestly a little curious, if still his usual, blunt nature. He didn’t want to play this fake game of sweet nothings so he focused on what he could find some interest in. “What did you say before?”
With some effort, he peeled his eyes away from the blue - teal? he didn’t even know what color to call it - eyes that stared up at him and cautiously let them follow the wave of the crowd in the distance. He couldn’t see him directly anymore but he could still see the flow of the crowd as they parted for him and jostled one another to get out of his path. Maybe he was actually going to get away with it.
kuropeco
Auguste still had no idea what was going on; for all he knew, this guy could have robbed a bank and was running from the law or something else wildly illegal. But he didn’t really want to make a scene in the middle of a crowded - and family oriented - marketplace, so whatever reservations he had about helping out the guy who had nearly run him down had been set aside.
For now, at least. If Auguste was going to play his part, he was going to play his part, and if it made the other man a little off his game, well, that was just a fringe benefit and a tiny bit of retribution, even if Auguste wasn’t usually the retribution-wanting type.
Especially since he could see the faint hint of red across those tanned cheekbones. Auguste felt his lips quirk up in a smile.
“Né et élevé,” he said, “Which is to say, oui. As for what I said before…”
Auguste trailed off, patting the man’s chest in what was clearly meant to be an affectionate, soothing sort of way. The sort of thing someone would do to a particularly irate pony that was acting up.
“N'aimeriez-vous pas savoir?”
His mouth was upturned, an amused smile on his face. Auguste’s chest was pressed against the other man’s, and there was something still sharp about his gaze; he was too aware of the people around them, of the possibility of thundering footsteps, or snarling voices.
“Are they gone?” he asked, voice kept in a low murmur, pretending to be intimate.
For now, at least. If Auguste was going to play his part, he was going to play his part, and if it made the other man a little off his game, well, that was just a fringe benefit and a tiny bit of retribution, even if Auguste wasn’t usually the retribution-wanting type.
Especially since he could see the faint hint of red across those tanned cheekbones. Auguste felt his lips quirk up in a smile.
“Né et élevé,” he said, “Which is to say, oui. As for what I said before…”
Auguste trailed off, patting the man’s chest in what was clearly meant to be an affectionate, soothing sort of way. The sort of thing someone would do to a particularly irate pony that was acting up.
“N'aimeriez-vous pas savoir?”
His mouth was upturned, an amused smile on his face. Auguste’s chest was pressed against the other man’s, and there was something still sharp about his gaze; he was too aware of the people around them, of the possibility of thundering footsteps, or snarling voices.
“Are they gone?” he asked, voice kept in a low murmur, pretending to be intimate.
felyn
“Crees que eres gracioso?”
A brow raised at the non-answer Auguste gave as he countered it. Born and raised in America as he was, his mother’s family were all proud Spaniards. It wasn’t the same as French but it had taught him enough to recognize a romance language when he heard it. Hopefully it just sounded like two people that loved each other speaking in a quiet, private tongue to blissful outsiders - not two unrelated men teasing at each other with different languages.
He made a soft tch under his breath and let his eyes roam over his shoulder, out to the crowd that seemed to have settled back around the men that had passed, absorbing them into the furthest reaches. It seemed like he had disappeared but Matteo was not one to give up his farse too easily - he knew he was not home free, not yet.
The fingers in the other man’s curled a little tighter and he tugged him as he started walking, wordlessly. He just expected Auguste to come with as he moved in the opposite direction Wally’s son had gone, tucked close to the other booths in the section.
A brow raised at the non-answer Auguste gave as he countered it. Born and raised in America as he was, his mother’s family were all proud Spaniards. It wasn’t the same as French but it had taught him enough to recognize a romance language when he heard it. Hopefully it just sounded like two people that loved each other speaking in a quiet, private tongue to blissful outsiders - not two unrelated men teasing at each other with different languages.
He made a soft tch under his breath and let his eyes roam over his shoulder, out to the crowd that seemed to have settled back around the men that had passed, absorbing them into the furthest reaches. It seemed like he had disappeared but Matteo was not one to give up his farse too easily - he knew he was not home free, not yet.
The fingers in the other man’s curled a little tighter and he tugged him as he started walking, wordlessly. He just expected Auguste to come with as he moved in the opposite direction Wally’s son had gone, tucked close to the other booths in the section.
kuropeco
Auguste’s brows rose, startled and a little impressed in spite of himself. He hadn’t expected to have another language thrown back at him, even if it wasn’t his own. But all the romance languages sounded similar on a base level, and he knew what the syllables of Spanish sounded like, even though it was strange to hear familiar tones presented in a different way.
“Je ne sais pas,” he said sweetly, still leaning into the other. He couldn’t understand the man, and likely the man couldn’t understand him, either, so really it was just two people not making any sense at all. Auguste had to fight a sudden wild urge to laugh, in spite of his irritation and his exasperation at the whole situation.
Which apparently wasn’t over yet, because Auguste felt the hand around his close more tightly, practically dragging him down the street. Auguste stumbled alongside him, jogging a little to keep up, expression shifting from the playful, almost flirtatious one, to one of annoyance and and then hastily back to one of forced calm.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he whispered through gritted teeth,, then flashed a charming, sweet smile at a passing vendor, Auguste reaching up a hand to rest on the crook of the other’s elbow, as though they were nothing more than a simple couple taking a stroll. “You haven’t done anything stupid, have you?”
Doubtless he had, but, well, there was always a chance.
“Je ne sais pas,” he said sweetly, still leaning into the other. He couldn’t understand the man, and likely the man couldn’t understand him, either, so really it was just two people not making any sense at all. Auguste had to fight a sudden wild urge to laugh, in spite of his irritation and his exasperation at the whole situation.
Which apparently wasn’t over yet, because Auguste felt the hand around his close more tightly, practically dragging him down the street. Auguste stumbled alongside him, jogging a little to keep up, expression shifting from the playful, almost flirtatious one, to one of annoyance and and then hastily back to one of forced calm.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he whispered through gritted teeth,, then flashed a charming, sweet smile at a passing vendor, Auguste reaching up a hand to rest on the crook of the other’s elbow, as though they were nothing more than a simple couple taking a stroll. “You haven’t done anything stupid, have you?”
Doubtless he had, but, well, there was always a chance.
felyn
“I guess stupid is a relative term, isn’t it?” Because he definitely had.
Matteo paused at a stall closer to the exit of the marketplace, this one a table covered in homemade goods. There were breads and cheeses, spreads and pickled vegetables, and for what it was worth he actually seemed interested. One hand touched a loaf of challah delicately, then moved on to a round loaf that he seemed more pleased with. With his hand still locked tightly in Auguste’s, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet; it was nothing fancy, but nothing drab.
“Tia, cuanto cuesta este pan?”
An older woman looked up at him with a smile that was pleased, though her eyes did slide sidelong to the Auguste next to him. The smile never faltered though. Whatever she said in response made Matteo laugh and for once, it seemed genuine, lighting his dark eyes in a way that very few things did. She reminded him of his mother, and her family, and even if there were two men trying to find him to pummel his head in, he could enjoy the moment.
“Que hay del queso?”
Matteo’s fingers lighted on a half round of cheese and she just tutted at him beneath her breath, waving at him with her fan playfully. It made his smile linger as he opened his wallet and drew out a few bills, tossing them at her - much to her bewilderment. It was more than she had wanted but he was already tucking his wallet back into his pocket and winking at her as he gathered up the bread and cheese.
“Come on,” he mumbled to Auguste, heading (slower than before) to the entrance of the marketplace. He hadn’t forgotten what the paler man had asked him and as they approached the break in the throng, he turned a dark pair of eyes down at him.
“If I told you I stole a bottle of tequila, would you think less of me?”
Would it matter to Matteo, though, if he did?
Matteo paused at a stall closer to the exit of the marketplace, this one a table covered in homemade goods. There were breads and cheeses, spreads and pickled vegetables, and for what it was worth he actually seemed interested. One hand touched a loaf of challah delicately, then moved on to a round loaf that he seemed more pleased with. With his hand still locked tightly in Auguste’s, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet; it was nothing fancy, but nothing drab.
“Tia, cuanto cuesta este pan?”
An older woman looked up at him with a smile that was pleased, though her eyes did slide sidelong to the Auguste next to him. The smile never faltered though. Whatever she said in response made Matteo laugh and for once, it seemed genuine, lighting his dark eyes in a way that very few things did. She reminded him of his mother, and her family, and even if there were two men trying to find him to pummel his head in, he could enjoy the moment.
“Que hay del queso?”
Matteo’s fingers lighted on a half round of cheese and she just tutted at him beneath her breath, waving at him with her fan playfully. It made his smile linger as he opened his wallet and drew out a few bills, tossing them at her - much to her bewilderment. It was more than she had wanted but he was already tucking his wallet back into his pocket and winking at her as he gathered up the bread and cheese.
“Come on,” he mumbled to Auguste, heading (slower than before) to the entrance of the marketplace. He hadn’t forgotten what the paler man had asked him and as they approached the break in the throng, he turned a dark pair of eyes down at him.
“If I told you I stole a bottle of tequila, would you think less of me?”
Would it matter to Matteo, though, if he did?
kuropeco
“It’s only relative if you’ve actually done something stupid,” Auguste pointed out, resisting a very strong urge to roll his eyes, lips pressing together. “Which I’m going to assume is what you’ve done, since you won’t actually answer the question.”
He didn’t know why he was still going along with this charade, especially considering that he didn’t even know this guy’s name, and the previous encounter had been less than stellar on many levels. But he didn’t want to make a scene, and something told him that they might not be entirely out of the woods yet; and in spite of Auguste’s reluctance and his irritation, he wasn’t about to just throw someone to the wolves.
Even if they maybe deserved it. Whatever it was.
Auguste couldn’t quite understand what was being spoken, but he caught the sidelong glance and curled his hand more securely around the other’s elbow, holding on both there and to the hand that still gripped his. He gave the woman a smile, calm and relaxed, then let his eyes flicker sideways, brows furrowing a little.
He hadn’t expected laughter. To be quite frank, he hadn’t expected any sort of positive emotions from him. The laughter lightened his face, made his eyes a little brighter, smoothing out the irritable expression that had been there before. It made him look younger than he had, though Auguste still suspected he was at least a few years older.
The hand on the crook of his elbow slid away as he was led towards the exit. Auguste caught the dark eyes looking at him, and then frowned.
“That depends,” he said slowly. “What did you steal it for? And did you hurt anyone in the process?”
He didn’t know why he was still going along with this charade, especially considering that he didn’t even know this guy’s name, and the previous encounter had been less than stellar on many levels. But he didn’t want to make a scene, and something told him that they might not be entirely out of the woods yet; and in spite of Auguste’s reluctance and his irritation, he wasn’t about to just throw someone to the wolves.
Even if they maybe deserved it. Whatever it was.
Auguste couldn’t quite understand what was being spoken, but he caught the sidelong glance and curled his hand more securely around the other’s elbow, holding on both there and to the hand that still gripped his. He gave the woman a smile, calm and relaxed, then let his eyes flicker sideways, brows furrowing a little.
He hadn’t expected laughter. To be quite frank, he hadn’t expected any sort of positive emotions from him. The laughter lightened his face, made his eyes a little brighter, smoothing out the irritable expression that had been there before. It made him look younger than he had, though Auguste still suspected he was at least a few years older.
The hand on the crook of his elbow slid away as he was led towards the exit. Auguste caught the dark eyes looking at him, and then frowned.
“That depends,” he said slowly. “What did you steal it for? And did you hurt anyone in the process?”
felyn
“What you’re saying is that you would be okay if I were Robin Hood.”
Matteo’s face didn’t change much, but he looked pensive at the thought. It was another non-answer but at least the look in his eyes suggested that he was thinking - or maybe judging. When he lifted his eyes away from Auguste’s, it was hard to say.
That was when he saw him, the younger and (bulkier) brother of the first lug. He hissed between his teeth and pulled the smaller man against him abruptly, then sank backward between a tented booth and the old oak tree next to it. It cast them in shade and out of sight. He was entirely committed to using the other for his scheming. It seemed a little bit like holding someone hostage but he pushed that out of his thoughts as soon as it arrived there.
He leaned his dark head back against the tree branch - it looked relaxed, like a man stealing a moment with his partner beneath a shady branch, but it gave him a better view of the crowd and, specifically, the broad man shoving his way through it.
“I stole it to drink it, obviously,” he answered at last. In the shadows, his dark eyes were even more unreadable. “And if I hurt them, it was just their brains. Look at that damn gargoyle.”
Nothing was hurting him.
Matteo’s face didn’t change much, but he looked pensive at the thought. It was another non-answer but at least the look in his eyes suggested that he was thinking - or maybe judging. When he lifted his eyes away from Auguste’s, it was hard to say.
That was when he saw him, the younger and (bulkier) brother of the first lug. He hissed between his teeth and pulled the smaller man against him abruptly, then sank backward between a tented booth and the old oak tree next to it. It cast them in shade and out of sight. He was entirely committed to using the other for his scheming. It seemed a little bit like holding someone hostage but he pushed that out of his thoughts as soon as it arrived there.
He leaned his dark head back against the tree branch - it looked relaxed, like a man stealing a moment with his partner beneath a shady branch, but it gave him a better view of the crowd and, specifically, the broad man shoving his way through it.
“I stole it to drink it, obviously,” he answered at last. In the shadows, his dark eyes were even more unreadable. “And if I hurt them, it was just their brains. Look at that damn gargoyle.”
Nothing was hurting him.
kuropeco
“Sometimes the right thing isn’t necessarily the most well respected thing,” said Auguste, with a look up at the other. “So yes, perhaps I would be.”
But he had no idea and no way of knowing for sure. Auguste felt a sudden jerk as he was abruptly dragged forward, a small yelp escaping him unintentionally, hastily stifled. He’d been pulled against the other’s chest, the two of them stuffed in a not-particularly-wide crevice between a tent and a tree. If he stepped backwards, he’d toppled into the tent.
His hands had risen instinctively to come to rest on the man’s chest, Auguste leaning against him. He peered sideways, squinting around to try and see who it was that was chasing them and saw someone with bushy eyebrows and a scowl that was even more pronounced than the man he was currently pressed up against.
“You stole tequila to drink,” Auguste repeated slowly, still watching the man look around. “Well…”
There was a small pause. Auguste sighed. “Well, it could have been worse, I suppose. I was imagining something a lot more ridiculous, to be perfectly honest.”
He glanced up at his “lover,” eyes moving over the half shadowed face. He couldn’t quite read the expression there; probably it was something negative or scowling, though Auguste was starting to feel some of his own irritation leave.
“If you’re going to make me your partner in crime here, at least tell me your name.”
But he had no idea and no way of knowing for sure. Auguste felt a sudden jerk as he was abruptly dragged forward, a small yelp escaping him unintentionally, hastily stifled. He’d been pulled against the other’s chest, the two of them stuffed in a not-particularly-wide crevice between a tent and a tree. If he stepped backwards, he’d toppled into the tent.
His hands had risen instinctively to come to rest on the man’s chest, Auguste leaning against him. He peered sideways, squinting around to try and see who it was that was chasing them and saw someone with bushy eyebrows and a scowl that was even more pronounced than the man he was currently pressed up against.
“You stole tequila to drink,” Auguste repeated slowly, still watching the man look around. “Well…”
There was a small pause. Auguste sighed. “Well, it could have been worse, I suppose. I was imagining something a lot more ridiculous, to be perfectly honest.”
He glanced up at his “lover,” eyes moving over the half shadowed face. He couldn’t quite read the expression there; probably it was something negative or scowling, though Auguste was starting to feel some of his own irritation leave.
“If you’re going to make me your partner in crime here, at least tell me your name.”
felyn
It was only as Matteo looked back down at Auguste that he realized what a, well, what an interesting situation they were in. From an outside perspective he supposed they must have looked very well acquainted, what with the way the paler man was leaned into him, splaying hands against his chest. Even in the shadows, his face tinted a little again. It was hard to say, but his chest did seem to be rising a little more pointedly with each breath as it swelled and receded beneath the pale fingertips.
“They’re just fun to mess with,” he mumbled, shrugging a little as he did. Matteo didn’t think he was necessarily evil or bad, at least not in the greatest sense of the word. He was a little chaotic and that was fine in his opinion. The world needed a little more random chaos - and pompous assholes deserved to be outwitted. “And I like Tequila.”
The line of his lips quirked a little at one corner, the first interactive emotion he had bothered to show for Auguste apart from irritation and contempt. He didn’t really get this other man’s deal or whatever - he knew he was French, apparently, and that he liked fluffy dogs. Whatever minute details had slipped out apart from that had already been lost on him in pursuit of his own selfish, antagonistic ways.
“It’s Matteo, Matteo Dsouza.” He paused, leaning his head back into the tree behind him for a moment as he took the opportunity to study the crowd again. “If you report me to the police I’ll know it was you.”
“They’re just fun to mess with,” he mumbled, shrugging a little as he did. Matteo didn’t think he was necessarily evil or bad, at least not in the greatest sense of the word. He was a little chaotic and that was fine in his opinion. The world needed a little more random chaos - and pompous assholes deserved to be outwitted. “And I like Tequila.”
The line of his lips quirked a little at one corner, the first interactive emotion he had bothered to show for Auguste apart from irritation and contempt. He didn’t really get this other man’s deal or whatever - he knew he was French, apparently, and that he liked fluffy dogs. Whatever minute details had slipped out apart from that had already been lost on him in pursuit of his own selfish, antagonistic ways.
“It’s Matteo, Matteo Dsouza.” He paused, leaning his head back into the tree behind him for a moment as he took the opportunity to study the crowd again. “If you report me to the police I’ll know it was you.”
kuropeco
Auguste, for his part, was playing along as well as could be, considering they were both strangers, and he’d been dragged into this unwillingly. There was, at the very least, the knowledge that this hadn’t been some big, dramatic heist, and that all it had entailed was a stolen bottle of tequila. Even if that wasn’t great, it still wasn’t awful, which, admittedly, was where Auguste’s mind had first gone.
His fingers curled against the other’s chest, Auguste still squinting out onto the street, but he turned his head to look at the man as he spoke, his lips pressing together disapprovingly. He thought he could see the tiniest bit of red on those cheeks, but it was too shadowy to tell.
“ ‘Fun to mess with,’ “ Auguste repeated. “It’s fun to run around and get chased by a man who looks like he could probably throttle you with his bare hands?”
He had thought he was relatively good at understanding people, but perhaps not. Something about this guy made Auguste feel vaguely irritable, as though it was a constant itch under his skin.
Matteo. At least now he had a name to the face. Auguste’s gaze flickered over him, the frown still in place, but it lessened fractionally at the rest of what was being said.
“Maybe I should,” Auguste said, just to be contrary, which wasn’t like him at all. After a moment, however, he said, a little reluctantly, “But I won’t. It’s just...tequila. And clearly you’re not actually doing anything with it except running like an idiot.”
He sighed out a breath. “It’s Auguste, by the way. Since you didn’t ask.”
His fingers curled against the other’s chest, Auguste still squinting out onto the street, but he turned his head to look at the man as he spoke, his lips pressing together disapprovingly. He thought he could see the tiniest bit of red on those cheeks, but it was too shadowy to tell.
“ ‘Fun to mess with,’ “ Auguste repeated. “It’s fun to run around and get chased by a man who looks like he could probably throttle you with his bare hands?”
He had thought he was relatively good at understanding people, but perhaps not. Something about this guy made Auguste feel vaguely irritable, as though it was a constant itch under his skin.
Matteo. At least now he had a name to the face. Auguste’s gaze flickered over him, the frown still in place, but it lessened fractionally at the rest of what was being said.
“Maybe I should,” Auguste said, just to be contrary, which wasn’t like him at all. After a moment, however, he said, a little reluctantly, “But I won’t. It’s just...tequila. And clearly you’re not actually doing anything with it except running like an idiot.”
He sighed out a breath. “It’s Auguste, by the way. Since you didn’t ask.”
felyn
“He would have to catch me first.”
And Matteo meant it.
When his dark, oily eyes flicked back down to stare at Auguste it was with humor pulling his lips up at the corners. He wasn’t heartless but his emotions were triggered by the strangest things. They were at least still there sometimes, shoved down and conjured up only when he was being foolish enough to keep his demons at bay. It wasn’t worth explaining to a stranger and for the most part, he was finding some amusement in the way Auguste did not seem to understand him at all.
“Ahh, well, as soon as they’re both far enough away I’m actually going to go back and grab it.”
He held up the the ends of the plastic bags he had grabbed with bread and cheese, waving them a little between them.
“Now it’s a picnic.”
The only sign he gave that he was moving again was that his fingers curled a little tighter within Auguste’s and he turned, walking around the back of the tree. From where they were, they had a clear path behind the booths that stretched to the front of the market and he could see the tree he had passed on his way in. With any luck, his hoodie was still there, forgotten and overlooked by everyone.
“If you want to go, you can,” he shrugged, making his fingers jerk a little in Auguste’s grip. “Or you can eat cheese and bread and drink tequila with me. I owe you.”
And Matteo meant it.
When his dark, oily eyes flicked back down to stare at Auguste it was with humor pulling his lips up at the corners. He wasn’t heartless but his emotions were triggered by the strangest things. They were at least still there sometimes, shoved down and conjured up only when he was being foolish enough to keep his demons at bay. It wasn’t worth explaining to a stranger and for the most part, he was finding some amusement in the way Auguste did not seem to understand him at all.
“Ahh, well, as soon as they’re both far enough away I’m actually going to go back and grab it.”
He held up the the ends of the plastic bags he had grabbed with bread and cheese, waving them a little between them.
“Now it’s a picnic.”
The only sign he gave that he was moving again was that his fingers curled a little tighter within Auguste’s and he turned, walking around the back of the tree. From where they were, they had a clear path behind the booths that stretched to the front of the market and he could see the tree he had passed on his way in. With any luck, his hoodie was still there, forgotten and overlooked by everyone.
“If you want to go, you can,” he shrugged, making his fingers jerk a little in Auguste’s grip. “Or you can eat cheese and bread and drink tequila with me. I owe you.”
kuropeco
“Right,” said Auguste, resisting another strong temptation to roll his eyes. He felt that urge a lot around this man - Matteo, that was his name - and he couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason for that, except that everything he did seemed to annoy him unreasonably. Maybe because the last time they had met had not gone well at all. “I forgot you were actually The Flash in disguise. My mistake.”
Matteo’s dark eyes were watching him now, flicking over him. He wasn’t wearing quite the scowl he’d worn before; in fact, there seemed to be almost amusement on his face, though it was difficult to know if that was true or not. Auguste’s frown deepened, more out of bemusement than anything else.
He really just...did not get him. At all.
Auguste eyed the bag in his hand, then felt himself being tugged around to the other side of the tree. His feet followed before his mind did, and only when he felt Matteo give his fingers a little jerk did he realize that he was just going along with this whole thing still.
He should just walk away. There was no point in continuing the charade if it was only going to get one of them in trouble.
Auguste sighed.
“You dragged me into this,” he said, and this time he really did roll his eyes. It still felt like a foreign thing, to be this exasperated; he didn’t understand where the annoyance was coming from, especially considering how empty he had felt for the last year. Most of his emotions had been limited to the most basic of things, flat and hollow. This new irritation was...unsettling. Not quite that, even; confusing.
“So I’m in it to the end, now,” Auguste said. “Lead the way,...thief.”
The last word was said with just the faintest hint of possible amusement.
felyn
Matteo was ready to drop the guy’s - Auguste, that was his name - hand and be about his merry way when he reaffirmed his place as his pretend boyfriend. It made him shoot a pair of raised eyebrows over his shoulder but he just shrugged and looked forward again to make sure he didn’t trip over any of the gnarled, jutting roots of the tree in front of him.
“Suit yourself.”
It was really no skin off of his back if the guy wanted to tag along. After all, he wasn’t the worst company.
In minutes he was skirting behind the tree he had passed on his way in. His hoodie was there, rolled against the bushes that lined the pathway, looking none the worse for wear. It made him smirk as he, at last, uncurled his fingers from the pale man’s and held out the bag of cheese and bread he had bought from the vendor. It seemed he had some consideration over who he bought or stole from, after all.
“Here, hold this a second.”
The dark haired man only waited long enough for Auguste to take it from him before he was inching forward, slowly and surely, to scoop the hoodie up in his arms - the bottle was intact and the liquid sloshed as he drew the bundle up into his dark, thick arms. Coal brown eyes shot back to teal ones as a head jerked, motioning for him to start walking again.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Suit yourself.”
It was really no skin off of his back if the guy wanted to tag along. After all, he wasn’t the worst company.
In minutes he was skirting behind the tree he had passed on his way in. His hoodie was there, rolled against the bushes that lined the pathway, looking none the worse for wear. It made him smirk as he, at last, uncurled his fingers from the pale man’s and held out the bag of cheese and bread he had bought from the vendor. It seemed he had some consideration over who he bought or stole from, after all.
“Here, hold this a second.”
The dark haired man only waited long enough for Auguste to take it from him before he was inching forward, slowly and surely, to scoop the hoodie up in his arms - the bottle was intact and the liquid sloshed as he drew the bundle up into his dark, thick arms. Coal brown eyes shot back to teal ones as a head jerked, motioning for him to start walking again.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
kuropeco
Auguste followed along behind Matteo as they crept along the path towards the tree, his hand still tangled with the other’s. He supposed there were worse ways to spend his afternoon; he could have been sitting at home, staring off into space, the way he’d been doing for the last several weeks. Nadia and Lorne had done their best to make sure he was comfortable, but it still didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t the same anymore. Auguste didn’t know how to be who he’d once been.
Pretending to be someone’s lover was better than sitting on a couch for hours, so Auguste supposed he was at least doing something with his life for once.
Matteo’s stash was apparently where he’d left it. Auguste’s hand felt a little strange after having held the other’s for so long, but he accepted the bag handed to him with a sidelong glance, watching as Matteo bent to pick up his things. Auguste caught a glimpse of a bottle, and then Matteo was looking at him, gesturing for him to follow.
He really shouldn’t, except he had nothing better to do, and he’d already agreed to see this through til the end. Auguste sighed internally and fell into step beside Matteo, still holding the bag of cheese and bread.
“So did you just wake up today deciding you were going to steal a bottle of tequila?” he asked, eyebrows raising. “Or was this a preplanned thing?”
Pretending to be someone’s lover was better than sitting on a couch for hours, so Auguste supposed he was at least doing something with his life for once.
Matteo’s stash was apparently where he’d left it. Auguste’s hand felt a little strange after having held the other’s for so long, but he accepted the bag handed to him with a sidelong glance, watching as Matteo bent to pick up his things. Auguste caught a glimpse of a bottle, and then Matteo was looking at him, gesturing for him to follow.
He really shouldn’t, except he had nothing better to do, and he’d already agreed to see this through til the end. Auguste sighed internally and fell into step beside Matteo, still holding the bag of cheese and bread.
“So did you just wake up today deciding you were going to steal a bottle of tequila?” he asked, eyebrows raising. “Or was this a preplanned thing?”
felyn
“No,” he shrugged, falling into step beside the shorter man. “I don’t ever plan anything.”
Then, after a pause, he amended:
“I don’t plan most things.”
A fact, he was sure, that would so totally surprise the man he had nearly bowed over on his skateboard and roped into being his pretend lover for the past half hour. There were worse things he had done to people. At least Auguste wasn’t bleeding.
They met at a junction of pathways and Matteo’s free hand rested on Auguste’s shoulder long enough to steer him to the left - away from where the shop was, away from where they should have been looking for him, and towards the sweet, ripe taste of a heist well done. Ahead of them was freedom, good food, and his favorite Tequila. The sweatshirt was settled over the flat of one broad shoulder and then he was holding up the bottle for Auguste to admire. It was long, nearly tear drop shaped except for the flat bottom, and the liquid inside was almost the color of honey.
It wasn’t just a bottle of tequila. The fine gold lettering across the front and the very simple, clean logo all suggested that was a very expensive bottle of tequila.
“Life is more interesting when you just go with the flow of the world. Today that happened to be stealing a bottle of tequila and eating cheese and bread next to the lake.”
If there was anything Matteo bucked, it was schedules and authority. Rules. Anything that seemed rigid and commanding always made him shy away.
Then, after a pause, he amended:
“I don’t plan most things.”
A fact, he was sure, that would so totally surprise the man he had nearly bowed over on his skateboard and roped into being his pretend lover for the past half hour. There were worse things he had done to people. At least Auguste wasn’t bleeding.
They met at a junction of pathways and Matteo’s free hand rested on Auguste’s shoulder long enough to steer him to the left - away from where the shop was, away from where they should have been looking for him, and towards the sweet, ripe taste of a heist well done. Ahead of them was freedom, good food, and his favorite Tequila. The sweatshirt was settled over the flat of one broad shoulder and then he was holding up the bottle for Auguste to admire. It was long, nearly tear drop shaped except for the flat bottom, and the liquid inside was almost the color of honey.
It wasn’t just a bottle of tequila. The fine gold lettering across the front and the very simple, clean logo all suggested that was a very expensive bottle of tequila.
“Life is more interesting when you just go with the flow of the world. Today that happened to be stealing a bottle of tequila and eating cheese and bread next to the lake.”
If there was anything Matteo bucked, it was schedules and authority. Rules. Anything that seemed rigid and commanding always made him shy away.
kuropeco
Auguste glanced sideways at Matteo, brows drawing together. The frown was back on his face, though this time it looked less like a displeased expression and more like a thoughtful one as he tried to figure out the context behind what he was saying.
“So...you do plan some things,” Auguste said slowly. “I suppose things like brushing your teeth or going to sleep. But you don’t plan things like stealing a bottle of tequila from a store.”
It didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it made too much sense; that whole live in the moment kind of feeling that Auguste had once known and lived himself, though it felt like another lifetime ago since that had happened - long enough for it to feel almost foreign now. It was a strange and rather frustrating thought, as though it was right out of reach of where he was trying to hold on.
Lost in thought, Auguste almost went the wrong way, but a steadying hand - or maybe an exasperated one - pressed against one thin shoulder, redirecting him the right way. Auguste’s eyes flickered over towards Matteo and saw him holding up the bottle, a ray of sunlight glinting off of its glossy surface. Auguste knew a little about wines, but not enough about alcohol to sustain anything, other than recognize that it looked very expensive just on first glance.
“What if going with the flow results in trouble?” Auguste asked, and it wasn’t technically a sarcastic question, because, in spite of himself, he was curious about the answer. “I mean, eating food and drinking well along the lake sounds very pleasant and all, but…”
He wasn’t sure what he was asking, exactly. Auguste’s look of bemusement increased.
“Do you just not like going by what society deems normal behavior?”
Again, it wasn’t sarcastic or even irritable. Auguste was looking at Matteo with the same concentrated frown of thought as before.
“So...you do plan some things,” Auguste said slowly. “I suppose things like brushing your teeth or going to sleep. But you don’t plan things like stealing a bottle of tequila from a store.”
It didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it made too much sense; that whole live in the moment kind of feeling that Auguste had once known and lived himself, though it felt like another lifetime ago since that had happened - long enough for it to feel almost foreign now. It was a strange and rather frustrating thought, as though it was right out of reach of where he was trying to hold on.
Lost in thought, Auguste almost went the wrong way, but a steadying hand - or maybe an exasperated one - pressed against one thin shoulder, redirecting him the right way. Auguste’s eyes flickered over towards Matteo and saw him holding up the bottle, a ray of sunlight glinting off of its glossy surface. Auguste knew a little about wines, but not enough about alcohol to sustain anything, other than recognize that it looked very expensive just on first glance.
“What if going with the flow results in trouble?” Auguste asked, and it wasn’t technically a sarcastic question, because, in spite of himself, he was curious about the answer. “I mean, eating food and drinking well along the lake sounds very pleasant and all, but…”
He wasn’t sure what he was asking, exactly. Auguste’s look of bemusement increased.
“Do you just not like going by what society deems normal behavior?”
Again, it wasn’t sarcastic or even irritable. Auguste was looking at Matteo with the same concentrated frown of thought as before.
felyn
Matteo sighed, then, and shot an annoyed glance down at Auguste’s pretty teal eyes. He did, at least, acknowledge that he was very pretty - even if his questions and attempts at soul searching were beginning to grate.
“I just do what I want to. Why is that such a hard thing to grasp? Normal, abnormal, bad, good. It’s all ******** relative, Auguste.” It was the first time he had used his name and he put all of his exasperated feelings into those syllables. “You think too much.”
The frown was back on Matteo’s lips as they walked because, despite himself, he was letting this acquaintance get inside his head. The more Matteo thought, the worse his mood usually got, and while he knew it was just a coping mechanism to live in the moment and ignore his feelings, he had gotten pretty damned good at it. Auguste was making him think and he didn’t want to, even if he had resigned himself to the company of the other man for a little while. Hopefully he didn’t regret it. Maybe if he could just get the guy drunk enough to stop caring?
“Here, this way.”
The park path continued on ahead of them but that strong hand was gripping Auguste’s shoulder again and tugging him off of the trail, into a sparsely wooded treeline. It would have seemed worrisome if Matteo hadn’t seemed like he knew exactly where they were going - his dark eyes were focused in a way that said he had probably come here a hundred times before. The sun filtered through the trees and cast everything in a green tint below the leafy boughs but he didn’t pause to admire the scene. There was a small incline and he headed for it, taking the hill with a practiced ease.
“You okay?” he looked sidelong at Auguste, studying him for any sign that the impromptu hike was too much. His free hand reached out between them. “Hold on if you need to.”
“I just do what I want to. Why is that such a hard thing to grasp? Normal, abnormal, bad, good. It’s all ******** relative, Auguste.” It was the first time he had used his name and he put all of his exasperated feelings into those syllables. “You think too much.”
The frown was back on Matteo’s lips as they walked because, despite himself, he was letting this acquaintance get inside his head. The more Matteo thought, the worse his mood usually got, and while he knew it was just a coping mechanism to live in the moment and ignore his feelings, he had gotten pretty damned good at it. Auguste was making him think and he didn’t want to, even if he had resigned himself to the company of the other man for a little while. Hopefully he didn’t regret it. Maybe if he could just get the guy drunk enough to stop caring?
“Here, this way.”
The park path continued on ahead of them but that strong hand was gripping Auguste’s shoulder again and tugging him off of the trail, into a sparsely wooded treeline. It would have seemed worrisome if Matteo hadn’t seemed like he knew exactly where they were going - his dark eyes were focused in a way that said he had probably come here a hundred times before. The sun filtered through the trees and cast everything in a green tint below the leafy boughs but he didn’t pause to admire the scene. There was a small incline and he headed for it, taking the hill with a practiced ease.
“You okay?” he looked sidelong at Auguste, studying him for any sign that the impromptu hike was too much. His free hand reached out between them. “Hold on if you need to.”
