Ira thumbed his chin, staring out the window as he thought. The automobile continued ahead, driving through narrow streets and honking loudly to get by congregations of people walking to and fro. The sun barely managed to beat its way through all the smoke, and when Ira tilted his head back, he could vaguely see the blimps in the sky, more shadows behind the smoke then anything else.
The man beside him snorted, derision coloring his tone. Ira didn’t bother to look at him, still caught in his own mind. He wasn’t even sure what the problem was. It was just—he’d been caught off-footed, he guessed. A little startled, maybe.
But still… an engagement was a promise to marry, right? He hadn’t misread that? Because he was going to marry Angelo, and they were going to live together (though they already were, but he assumed that it was different somehow when one was married), and his own misconceptions about humanity wasn’t going to stand in his way.
He’d kill them dead, first.
Ira just needed to meet up with Angelo so they could have a proper conversation about this and lay his worries to rest for good. Which would be easier if he wasn’t trapped in a moving car with two kidnappers, one of whom still had a solid grip on Ira’s arm.
Sigh. Ira glanced over his shoulder at the afortmentioned kidnapper and asked, “Will you tell me where we’re going, at least?”
“A factory,” the kidnapper said, glaring at him. “That’s all you need to know.”
Humming softly, Ira bobbed his head. He turned back to look out the window, and wondered how long it’d take for Angelo to save him. He hoped that it didn’t take more than a few hours; he didn’t want to starve. That was always so painful, and boring, and just all-together not a good time. No, he rather wanted to get back to Angelo, and eat some pancakes covered in syrup while they cuddled on the couch.
Dreaming of the future, the cuddling and snuggling (was there a difference?), Ira missed when the car turned down an abandoned road, not realizing they were changing directions until the road beneath them was so bumpy that Ira almost slid off the seat. Only the kidnapper’s strong grip on his arm saved him from an inelegant tumble.
Ira let out a soft breath when he was stabilized, finally ceasing his watching through the window. Rather, he scooted back on the seat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he turned on a movie in his mind. It wasn’t one of his favorites, but it was still one he liked and it would make the time go faster.
While Ira could rescue himself, could jump out the vehicle or kill his kidnappers while inside, it wasn’t something that his body was supposed to be able to do. And yes, he could certainly break that rule none the worse for wear, but what would be the fun in that?
Better to just wait, and watch something amusing.
After another few minutes, they stopped in front of a large building. Soot and smoke was curling around it like a curtain, fluttering softly in the breeze. Once the car stopped with a loud growl, Ira was roughly pulled from his seat. He hung in the kidnappers grip, relaxing his body until he weighted as much as lead. The thinner kidnapper grumbled below his breath, muttering, “…fucking work with us, you shithead,” while pulling him with Ira’s arm over his shoulder.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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In the end, it didn’t take long at all for the sound of several cars to reach them. Their engines were loud, purring in the wind endlessly. As they got closer, Ira was shaken out of his movie-induced vegetative state by a rough hand on his shoulder. “Wake up!” one of his kidnapper hissed at him, dragging his chair—and him with it—further back from the factory doors.
Ira glanced at his map; Angelo had just arrived at the factory’s outside. Smirk growing slowly, Ira relaxed on his seat and his eyes grew half-lidded. He stared at those doors watched the dot on his map approach, and felt his heart speed up in his chest. Ah, he wondered what that was about.
A loud bangs on the door, and the kidnapper behind him mumbled a low, “Shit,” their hand on his shoulder clenching down. The nails dug into his flesh, even though his shirt, and he grimaced at last the flash of pain. Turning his pain sensors off again, he sighed when the sensation instantly vanished and was instead replaced with a blessed nothingness. He could still feel the pressure, but the pain-receptors were off and that was really a relief.
Anotehr bang, another flinch from behind him. More and more of the humans who’d been “guarding” him started to pull their weapons out, inching their way toward the trembling the door. Ira’s eyes brightened, and he couldn’t help but lean forward.
Finally, the metal door was defeated.
First, Ira noted Angelo’s wild eyes. Second, he noted the furious expression. Third, he noted the two guns in Angelo’s hands. Fourth, he noted the stench of fear suddenly permeating the air. Fifth, he noted that the human behind him had put a gun to Ira’s head and barked out a loud, “Stop!”
Ira rolled his eyes.
He didn’t even bother to do it surreptiously.
Angelo’s lips curled viciously and he spat, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re keeping you in line,” Ira’s gunman spat in return, the gun shaking against his head. Ira allowed his head to be moved by the minute motion, slumping onto the chair like a puppet who’s string was just cut. The gunman added a furious, “You’ve been eyeing things that aren’t yours and this is your wakeup call.” This time, the push with the gun was intentional, and Ira’s head was knocked to the side, his hair clenched in a tight grip, neck stretched out uncomfortably.
Angelo growled, and more people finally moved in after him, pointing their own weapons at the kidnappers. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Angelo snapped, nothing resembling mercy in his expression.
Ira rose an eyebrow, impressed.
Angelo’s eyebrow twitched, but the man didn’t let Ira interrupt him. Instead, he only took aim, lip curling into a sneer as he added, “And you’re going to fucking die.”
Ira liked the cursing. It was a nice touch.
The grip on his hair tightened, his head pulled further back, and Ira scowled, irritation coursing through him. Then there was a loud bang, and blood splatted all over his face, dropping into his open mouth. Ira, perhaps predictably, licked his lips and swallowed it. It tasted tangy, a metal-like structure hidden in the background.
“Ira?” Angelo called, softly.
Ira shook his head, tipping his gaze back forward. “I’m fine,” he said, licking his lips again. Some of the blood slid down his face with gravity reasserted, drifting over his lips. It was on his eyelashes, he realized after he blinked and it was oddly hard to open his eyes again. “You got blood all over me,” Ira pouted, using his great powers like the villain he truly was deep down. Ira added, too, “It’s going to dry.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Angelo muttered, running over to him and dropping to his knees. There was a curious silence in the factory, and Ira finally glanced around.
Most everyone was staring at him, some kind of unknowable expression on their faces. Their eyes went from him, to the dead body behind him, to Angelo kneeling before him with his hand son Ira’s knees. Ira’s gaze was then stuck on those hands, on the softness and the warmth he could feel even through the pants, and the pressure that could only be described as kind. He didn’t… entirely understand. Or, rather, maybe he just didn’t want to understand.
Maybe wallowing in his pain and taking it out on everyone around him had been easier, Ira thought. Maybe it had been simpler, then acknowledging his emotions. Maybe burying his head in the sand and calling himself a monster had been the easy way out.
Maybe this… this softness… was a thousand—a million*—*times harder.
“Hello,” Ira croaked, voice weak. He coughed gently to correct it, leaning forward as far the bindings would let him. Angelo’s face was hidden by the factory’s darkness, his grip steady on Ira’s legs, yet there was a tiny flickering shadow in his eyes that Ira simply didn’t like. It didn’t belong there, he knew.
(Angelo was so much more beautiful, just looked so much more right, when he was happy.)
Angelo looked up at him from below his long eyelashes, smile trembling as he rasped a gentle, “Hi.”
Ira’s blinked his eyes rapidly. He licked his lips, glancing away after another beat, and said, “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” Angelo reached up, hand landing on Ira’s cheek. Fingers brushed over his skin as Ira inadvertently held his breath until his lungs began to scream their protests. But the touch on his skin; on his cheek, next to his nose, up below his eyes, beside his lips, was too scorching. It was too powerful, a weaponized touch he hadn’t known would be so ruthlessly utilized against him.
Angelo said, “I will always come for you.”
Ira’s lips wobbled, something just so. So human. And he didn’t know how to feel about that either, so he pretended that he didn’t notice and mumbled, “I want to cuddle.”
Angelo hummed, his hand still so soft and gentle and kind and tender on Ira’s cheek. Ira strained further against the ropes, but it didn’t really do anything; this body was just too weak. But he tried anyway, because he wanted that touch, ached for it. He just wanted to be enveloped by the other man, wanted to be embraced until he was a gooey mess.
“Cut him loose,” Angelo ordered someone else, cutting right through Ira’s thoughts. Ira blinked at his fiancé, his second favorite person in the world, and soon felt the bonds loosen, slacken, and then fall away entirely. He clenched his hands, balling them into fists, and shook his shoulders to loosen them up, to relax at last. “Better?” Angelo murmured, hand rubbing at the blood on Ira’s nose.
Ira nodded, sniffling. He licked his lips, pulling his hand to his lap and entangling his fingers in his pants’s fabric. They, too, were splattered with blood. He picked at an errant piece of it, feeling it already beginning to dry beneath his touch.
Angelo stood, his hand leaving Ira’s cheek after a lingering moment. “Let’s go home,” Angelo said, holding his hand out. Ira grabbed it instantly, closing his hand around the other’s, and was pulled up with a careful tug. It took a moment for him to get his bearings, a deceptively long moment in which he almost fell right back down, but then blood started to flow properly through his body again.
His knee still didn’t work though. “My cane,” Ira said, turning his head to look for it.
“They’ll get it back,” Angelo nodded to his minions, one of whom nodded back, and Ira relaxed. And together, they left the factory.
Nice to see ira fall even deeper in this pit
Ugh I missed this
So sweet