by Loki Renard
“Oh boy! Can I paint it whatever color I want, dad?”
Mark chuckled and cuffed Bobby around the ear. It was good to have the little shit back.
12
“We need to talk.”
Mark groaned inwardly. Were there worse words on the entire planet to hear out of an SO’s mouth.
“What do you want to talk about?” He turned toward Damien with a smile that may as well have been painted on.
Damien didn’t bother with the pretense of happiness. “Bobby’s not settling in well.”
Mark knew Damien was right. It had been two weeks since Bobby had come to live with them in Damien’s apartment, and frankly, it had been chaos every day and night since.
“I guess we should sit him down and have a talk with him,” Mark said. “A real talk.”
Bobby sprawled in an armchair as Damien and Mark sat in front of him and attempted to have a serious discussion with him. When they were living with Angelo, alcohol had been limited, and drugs were out of the question, but if Mark wasn’t very much mistaken, Bobby was high.
“You’ve been really disruptive, and aggressive and rude,” Mark started.
“Yeah?” Bobby shrugged. “That’s pretty much how I am.”
He was right on that score. Bobby had always been an asshole. Just, living with Angelo, it didn’t matter as much.
“Bobby, you need to start adjusting to life in the real world,” Damien tried. Mark really wished he wouldn’t. Bobby was openly hostile to Damien a lot of the time, and in spite of how patient Damien was being, Mark was sure there were limits to it.
“What?” Bobby snorted. “There’s nothing real about this bullshit. You two shacking up and playing Mr and Mrs with your matching tea kettle and toaster. Fuck you.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Mark interjected.
Bobby smirked at him. “Is it? What are you going to do?”
It was a challenge. When they lived with Angelo, Mark would have responded by saying he was going to whip Bobby’s ass. He could tell by the challenging light in the younger man’s eyes that was what he wanted to hear. But it wasn’t going to happen. Damien was right. They had to try to break the cycle Angelo had established. It wasn’t healthy to go around whipping each other. At least, that’s what Damien said when Mark breached the subject of getting a little rougher in the bedroom.
“I’m not going to do what you expect me to,” Mark said. “Angelo took you and fucked you the same way he fucked me,” Mark said gently. “You’ve been hurt, Bobby. Bad. But you don’t have to hurt forever. We’ll help you.”
“I don’t want to be helped,” Bobby snorted. “I want…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but Mark knew what he wanted to say. Bobby wanted it to be like it was when Angelo ran things. Bobby craved the feeling of being under control. Mark wanted to give it to him, but he agreed with Damien that it was time they left all that ‘weird shit’ with Angelo behind. At least, he agreed in principal. And whenever he was asked.
Bobby wasn’t as compliant. Bobby wasn’t looking for Damien’s approval. Mark had watched him getting angrier and angrier over the past few days, frustration building. He knew what Bobby needed - a thrashing and a fucking, in that order, but Damien would never have been okay with that.
Mark and Bobby were just going to have to get used to being judged by “normal” standards now, and that meant monogamy and vanilla gay sex.
“I know what you need,” Damien said suddenly. Both Mark and Bobby perked up at that.
“What are you going to do? Tie me up? Electroshock me?”
Mark couldn’t help but notice how eager Bobby sounded.
“No,” Damien quirked a brow. “I’m going to make you some hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate?” Bobby sneered the question as Damien went to the kitchen. “What kind of Martha Stewart motherfucker have you shacked up with? I can’t believe this is the guy who shot Angelo. He’s so fucking boring I want to shoot myself in the head just for something to do.”
Mark tried not to laugh. He knew exactly what Bobby meant. Damien was sweet, and kind. And what he’d done to Angelo was, hell, actually, considering where Angelo was now, pretty damn effective. Damien had done to Angelo what nobody had managed to do before - he’d stripped him of his boys and put him behind bars.
“I bet Angelo’s fucking up a storm in prison,” Bobby sighed. “Maybe…”
“You are NOT going to get yourself thrown in prison with him,” Mark growled before Bobby could even finish the sentence. “They’ll never put you in the same facility anyway. You’re a known associate.”
Bobby’s handsome face collapsed into a more furious scowl than before. “This is bullshit,” he complained. “You did this to him.”
“Angelo did this to himself by fucking with me in the first place,” Mark said. “He put me in a position where I had to choose between spending the rest of my life getting shanked or sending him away. It wasn’t a hard choice.”
“He did kind of deserve it,” Bobby admitted. “But what if someone kills him in there? What if I never get another chance?”
Mark laughed. Bobby had once genuinely wanted Angelo dead. These days it was more of a joke. A dark and twisted joke, to be sure, but that was Bobby all over. Mark was so damn glad Bobby was with them. Without Bobby around, he was seriously worried he’d go mad with normality.
“Here,” Damien said, coming into the room with a big mug and a saucer. “Extra marshmallows.”
He sat the hot chocolate down on the coaster in front of Bobby. The spoon was still in the mug. Bobby plucked it out and Mark caught his hand just in time before he actually managed to stab Damien with it.
“You have to watch him,” he said apologetically. “He gets stabby, and he doesn’t really care what he uses.”
“Ah,” Damien nodded.
“Asshole,” Bobby growled.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Damien said calmly. “Drink your hot chocolate.”
“Fuck your hot chocolate,” Bobby growled.
“Well, you could try doing that, but you might burn your dick,” Damien chuckled.
A second later, Bobby flew at him, furious.
“Are you fucking laughing at me, you goddamn sonofabitch?!”
Bobby was no match for Damien, but Mark got up anyway, ready to intervene just in case Bobby’s vicious brutality took him to an unexpected place.
“I’m not laughing at you,” Damien said, taking a few of Bobby’s blows before managing to catch Bobby’s wrists. “I know you hate me. You hate everything. You’ve been nothing but a fuck toy for the past two years. That’s a lot of rage to work out on the world.”
“Don’t you fucking call me a fuck toy!” Bobby’s dark eyes blazed.
“But that’s what you were. And that’s what you want now. You’re trying to provoke us into treating you like Angelo did, and that’s not going to happen.”
Bobby visibly deflated, the rage flowing out of him. Mark felt a wrenching despair which reflected Bobby’s misery. The world without Angelo was not the same. And Damien, as tough and dangerous as he was, had no interest in being Angelo MK2.
“So that’s it,” Bobby said sadly as Damien let him go.
“That’s it,” Damien confirmed.
“Fuck this,” Bobby said. “I’m going to bed.”
Mark and Damien watched him go, his shoulders slumped, his head down.
“Round one,” Damien smiled. “I think that goes to us.”
Mark forced a smile. Maybe it did, but it didn’t feel like a victory.
“Can we trust him?” Damien murmured the question.
“Absolutely not,” Mark said. “But that boy was twenty-two when Angelo took him, and he’s spent the last two years being mind-fucked in a way a lot of older people couldn’t withstand. He’s going to be work. A lot of work. But…”
“But you feel you owe him. And you were with him. So what is he going to be, your rehab project? Or your lover?”<
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“Yeah, Mark, are you gonna fuck me?” Bobby popped his head back in, a small cheeky smile of hope on his face. Bobby had lost more than Mark. He didn’t have a lover like Damien. Mark knew how lonely he must be - and their relationship had been so intimate for so long that it was strange not to be sleeping with him.
“No.” It was Damien who answered flatly. “We’re going to look after you until you can find a decent, healthy, monogamous relationship.”
Bobby twisted his face up. “What?”
“Someone wholesome and good for you.”
“Oh so Angelo can have them killed in front of me,” Bobby snorted. “You know he’s just in prison, not dead? He can influence things out here still. We’ll never know who is coming for us, or what they’re going to do.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”
“Yes, I do. And you should be too. He knows you betrayed him, Mark.”
“Good,” Mark said. “I hope it eats at him for the rest of his life. What he did to us wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t love.”
“It was his kind of love.”
“Well you can do better than his kind of love. We all can.” Mark heard the words coming out of his mouth, but he didn’t know if he believed himself.
Bobby folded his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet. “Not me. I’m more fucked up than you know. You were a soldier and a fed. I’ve been a criminal all my life. I’m not cut from the same cloth as you. Angelo was the same as me. He got me.”
Mark looked at Damien. “I’m going to talk to him in his bedroom, alright?”
“Alright,” Damien nodded.
Mark didn’t know what was going on behind his brilliant gaze, but it was time to talk to Bobby in private. Damien couldn’t understand what life after Angelo was like, and having these conversations with him present just didn’t work.
“Come on,” Mark said. He put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and guided him into the bedroom. Though Bobby had been with them for a few weeks, there was nothing there. He hadn’t personalized the space at all. He was just using it like a hotel room.
“Sit down,” Mark gestured to the bed.
Bobby sat. Mark sat next to him and draped an arm over Bobby’s shoulders, lowering his voice so he was sure their conversation was completely quiet.
“You’re allowed to miss him.”
“Do you miss him?” Bobby turned those dark intelligent eyes on Mark, and Mark knew he wasn’t going to get away with lying.
“Yes,” he admitted. “A lot sometimes. But the life I have with Damien has some kind of future. And there was never any future with Angelo. You know if we’d stayed with him we would have ended up dead or imprisoned for a very long time.”
Bobby nodded. “You know why I didn’t kill you? When I came here that first day? I had a gun. I was thinking about doing it. Taking you both out for Angelo. But I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because when you were testifying, you could have thrown me under the bus anytime. You could have made it so I went away for as long as he did. Angelo’s lawyers tried to pin a lot of it on me. You didn’t.”
“Because you’re one of his victims.”
Bobby’s fists tightened. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s true. And until you come to terms with that, there will always be a part of you that’s weak.” Mark chose his words carefully. He knew damn well Bobby didn’t like to think of himself as weak in any way, and that was precisely why he’d pointed it out. Loving Angelo was a weakness, a dangerous one too. Because Bobby was right, Angelo wasn’t a fully neutralized threat. They would be living in his shadow for a very long time. Missing him would only make them vulnerable.
13
Things got better after the conversation. Or at least, they seemed to. A couple more weeks went by and Bobby started to settle a little more. There was still some tension in the household, largely thanks to the fact that Bobby was, to all intents and purposes, an ex - an ex who seemed pretty intent on not being an ex sometimes.
“He was mine you know,” Bobby said one evening. He liked to needle Damien.
“Mhm, and now he’s mine,” Damien said, putting his hand on Mark’s knee.
Bobby’s eyes narrowed with real jealousy. Mark really wished Damien wouldn’t do that.
“I bet you don’t suck his dick as well as I did.”
Damien chuckled. “I don’t suck dick at all.”
“Oh,” Bobby grinned. “So you’re bottoming permanently now, Mark?”
Truth was, Damien and Mark had been going through a bit of a dry spot. Their initial relief at being reunited and the rush of first passion had evaporated. Damien thought it was because Mark was trying to adjust, but truth was, it had more to do with the fact that Damien wasn’t Angelo. Angelo had ruined him for other men, made vanilla sex feel pointless.
“Cut it out,” Damien said with a smile.
“Why? He likes his dick being sucked.” Bobby ran his tongue around his lips in a lascivious fashion.
Damien reached out and clipped him lightly around the ear.
“Didn’t hurt,” Bobby smirked.
“I know, it’s not meant to.”
Bobby’s face fell.
“You’re a fucking assassin. You shot Angelo. Why won’t you hurt me?”
“Angelo was a bad man. He deserved it. You’re not.”
“Yes, I do! I’m fucked up. I’m evil!”
“Nope.” Damien shook his head “Not even close.”
“You don’t even know me,” Bobby snarled. “You don’t know the things I did, long before Angelo got me. I had guys killed all the time. Some girls too. I didn’t give a fuck then, and I don’t give a fuck now.”
“Except you did and you do. That’s why you let Angelo punish you so hard. You think you deserve it. You’ve been hurt enough, Bobby. It’s time to start healing.”
“No!” There was anguish in Bobby’s voice. It was more painful to contemplate a future free of hurt than it was to move toward the possibility that he could have the good things in life.
Mark had tears in his eyes, watching Damien deal with Bobby. In many ways, Mark had been just as much to blame for Bobby’s condition as Angelo had. At the time, it had been the only way to deal with the situation. Bobby was dangerous, and keeping him at heel was one way to neutralize the threat he posed.
But when Damien handled him, Bobby didn’t seem dangerous anymore. He just seemed lost and confused.
When they got to bed a little while later, Mark wrapped his arms around Damien’s waist and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips.
“I fucking love you,” he growled in Damien’s ear.
Damien smiled. “And I love you. You know Bobby’s not the only one who needs to get better, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you were stuck there for a year too.”
“I know. I haven’t forgotten.”
“I think you have. I think you’ve been looking after Bobby so you don’t have to look after yourself, or face what you did and what was done to you.”
“I’m fine,” Mark insisted. He really was fine. Sure, Angelo haunted his dreams, and more often than not the morning wood he woke with was a direct result of the dark doings in that space, but that was to be expected.
“You, are not fine,” Damien said, his dark brow arched.
“Okay, fine,” Mark relented. “Everything Bobby says, it’s like it could come out of my mouth. I hate that asshole, but I miss him. He was everything to us. He made himself the center of our worlds, and we both know that he’s not really gone. We won’t be free of him until he’s dead.”
“And you don’t actually want him dead,” Damien said softly, running his fingers through Mark’s hair. “Because you still love him.”
“I don’t…”
“You don’t have to deny it, Mark. I can see it. I can feel it. And it’s okay. I know it’s going to take some time. You’ve got all the time in th
e world.”
Mark had never felt so guilty in all his life. Not when he’d betrayed the FBI, not when he’d betrayed Angelo, not when he’d been sneaking around sucking dick in the military. This was the worst thing he’d ever done, bar none. Damien was a genuinely good man, and Mark was still in love with a monster.
14
Damien knew what he was getting into. He had two very broken men to deal with, but this was the greatest revenge he could ever exact on Angelo. If he could get Mark and Bobby to the point where that asshole didn’t have a hold over them anymore, he would have won - and he intended to win. This wouldn’t be over until both Mark and Bobby could look Angelo in the eye and not feel a damn thing.
It was a long game, but it was one worth playing. And in the meantime, Mark warmed his bed, and Bobby basically begged to suck his dick. Not a bad situation for a mercenary of dubious origins.
A heavy knock at the door while he was cooking dinner one evening drew him from the stir-fry. He opened it to find himself looking at Bobby’s very intoxicated form slumped between two officers.
“This yours?” They shoved him forward a little .
“Yeah, he’s mine. Thanks, Jeff.”
“We found him outside the jail house, screaming for angels or something.”
“Okay, thanks,” Damien said. “Sorry about the disturbance.”
“Next time we might have to charge him,” Jeff said.
“Well, I appreciate you not doing it this time. Go sit down in the living room, Bobby.”
The noise at the door drew Mark out as well. “What happened to you?” He asked the question as Bobby dragged his ass through the house and slumped down on the couch. “Got arrested.”
“You can’t go out and get arrested,” Damien frowned, closing the door behind his cop buddies.
“Well, turns out I can, ‘cause I did.”
Goddamn this kid was trying Damien’s patience. He’d hoped to break both Bobby and Mark of their fascination with Angelo, but Bobby was far more resistant, and without any real leverage, Damien was starting to think he was a lost cause.