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Chapter Text

A freight train belched smoke and pulled into an open railway station. Multiple tracks criss-crossed in and out of a stretch of buildings, a sign on one of the largest of the buildings reading Polk Street Freight Station. Before the train could fully stop, the doors on one of its cars slid open, and Oscar stepped down in the midst of the shabby crowd. One of the men holding a brown paper bottle stumbled away from him quickly, occasionally looking over his shoulder and shooting fearful looks behind. Charlie hopped down beside him. “So what do you wanna do, go after him or-”

“We’re here now.” Oscar walked through the train tracks towards the city. “There’s nothing to be done about it.” The skyscrapers cut a sharp, unfamiliar line against the light of the setting sun.

“Right.” They made their way into the bustling downtown of Chicago, their usual conversation brusque and short. They passed a vendor, and Oscar waited impatiently when Charlie stopped to buy a couple of hot dogs. “It’s been days since we had anything that wasn’t out of a can.” Charlie gave him a flat look before he could refuse. “You need something warm.” Oscar took the food reluctantly, and found a relatively clean scrap of linen from his bag to wrap it in. He hadn’t been eating well since leaving New York. The anxiety and lurking fear was making his stomach tender, and the money they had borrowed from Ramón and Doctor de Grandin was growing thinner by the day. He knew Charlie had noticed, had tried to persuade him to take seconds on his plate whenever possible, but they hadn’t stopped to talk about it. They hadn’t stopped to talk about anything but the task in front of them.

“We’ll need to get lodgings soon, it’s getting late.” A gust of wind punctuated Oscar’s words, whipping through their threadbare coats with a chill.

“The west side has a lot of cheap rooms for workers, let’s try there first before anywhere else.” 

They walked a few more blocks, and passed by a beautiful church on the side. Oscar stepped into the street to avoid it. “You remember what Ramón told us,” he said quietly when Charlie held him back.

“Yeah, but I know you love these old places. You wanna just pop up against a window, take a quick look inside? As long as I’m there watching your back it can’t hurt for a couple minutes.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want right now.” There was no telling how far the poison had spread. He looked over his shoulder wistfully. The building was small but lovely, the spires and stone still well-kept even after a century. Not being able to step inside, let alone take communion, made the anger flare up inside Oscar at the injustice of it all.

A snore made them turn to see a ragged figure lying prone on the top step of the church. An elderly man, the same one from the trainyard, draped his hand over the stone steps and slept deeply. The brown paper bag slipped and barely clung to the bottle that was clutched tightly in his hands. Oscar looked to either side of the street several times, hopped up the stairs and only paused long enough to take the rolled-up newspaper in the man’s pocket. He made sure Charlie didn’t see him replacing it with the wrapped hot dog, and he also made sure to put a nickel in the man’s pocket along with the food. A few words of whispered apology went unheard, and he rejoined his partner back on the curb.

Oscar folded the newspaper in half by bracing it on his knee and read it as they walked. He barely noticed when Charlie spoke. “Sorry, did you say something?”

The slightly hopeful grin on Charlie’s face faded into something more wistful. “Nah. Nothing worth repeating.” He muttered under his breath. “Yet another joke that didn’t land.”

They headed towards the west side of town, Oscar scoping the ads and landing on a promisingly cheap rental. “Sorry, picking’s slim right now,” said the landlord. He handed Charlie a key. “We’re out of rooms with twin beds. But you got a king, so you’ll have plenty of room.” Oscar huffed to himself. At least they would get to share a bed again for a while. Small favors.

The old stairs creaked under their feet, and a click of the switch in their third floor room made the overhead lightbulb flicker to dull life. The room was small, bare, and devoid of any extra comfort. A couple of roaches scuttled into the floorboards when the lightbulb finally stopped blinking. “Practically a home away from home.” Charlie threw his bag on the dresser, and Oscar yanked the pull-down bed from the wall to start making up the sheets.

He heard Charlie sigh behind him, his breath catching on his voice several times like he was starting to speak and faltering. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.” Oscar moved from the bed to put away their meager belongings as neatly as he could.

The old bedsprings squeaked with movement. “Fine. You want me to lay it all out? Fine by me. What if that old hobo did need our kinda help?”

“Cleveland would have been too far of a detour, I told you-”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

Oscar didn’t quite slam the drawer closed, but it was a close thing. The latch didn’t even make a satisfying click when it shut. “Then why are you still on about this?” He turned around with a glare ready and instantly regretted it. The stubborn lines of Charlie’s jaw were set and tensed ready for an argument, but it was the disappointment in his eyes that hurt to look at. Oscar could only meet his gaze for a second before he had to look away. “I did want to help him. Truly I did, but we would have lost a day or more. And we wouldn’t know a thing about what we’d be walking into.” With everything that had happened he felt precarious, like his foot was hovering one step over a cliff above a rocky shore. Another uncertainty was the last thing he wanted.

“I don’t think that bum was one of his guys.”

“Oh really? You sound very sure of yourself, how could you tell?” The sarcasm bit through sharper than he intended, and Oscar took a breath and a moment to soften his words. “That girl we caught tracking us in Columbus seemed sweet enough, right up until she tried to slip a knife in between your ribs.”

“Yeah, but she was laughing like a maniac the whole time. I know real fear when I see it. Smell it, too.”

That made Oscar draw back and wince. “I did overreact a bit when he grabbed you, I wasn’t trying to frighten the poor old fellow so badly. Did he really…?”

“Nah, I’m just ribbing you. Pretty sure he’d had an accident long before the train ride, the stains on his pants were old and dried.” Charlie kicked off his shoes, stretched out on the bed and put his hands behind his head. “Still, you can be real terrifying when you want to be, I don’t even remember the last time you yelled like that. You could knock out some windows if you ever took up opera.” His voice was teasing, but Oscar still couldn’t look at him for long.

“I didn’t mean to make a scene, but you told me you were doing better.”

“I am! He just surprised me, is all.” Charlie sat up and flexed his arm. “Look, I’m right as rain.” He suddenly winced and groaned mid-rotation of his shoulder, and sheepishly glanced away. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, Os. I really am fine."

Oscar sat down on the other side of the bed and tried to unclench his jaw. “We need to keep our heads down and focus on what’s in front of us.” He looked over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t think you’d push back so much on this. Aren’t you always trying to figure the safest way to go?”

The look of disappointment faded to something more sad. “Yeah, but you always talk me out of it.”

There was a beat of silence. Oscar turned away again. The longer he looked at Charlie the more likely he was to spill everything that was festering inside of him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of it. Charlie sighed. “It probably was just a tall tale, you hear a lot of crazy shit coming out of the hobo jungles. And you’re right, it would have been stupid to turn around on the word of a drunk old man. It’s just…” The bed squeaked again. “This isn’t like you. You’re not eating, you’re not making conversation, you’re not stopping for every downtrodden sadsack we meet. Hell, the only thing you are doing well is sleeping.”

Oscar privately patted himself on the back for that one. The fear kept him up at night, and nightmares were starting to become routine. One less thing for you to worry about. At least I’m a good enough actor for that.

“You sure there’s nothing more going on that you wanna tell me? Aren’t you the one who always wants to talk it out?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Oscar laid on his side and pulled the threadbare covers up to his chin. “Not until we’re done with all this.”

It was quiet again, save for Charlie’s frustrated growl, and eventually the other side of the bed settled and the lamp was clicked off. The guilt sank into Oscar’s chest like a physical weight. It was just one more sin added to the slowly growing pile.

The bed dipped, Charlie shifting away farther to curl around his pillow. Oscar let his eyes adjust to the darkness so he could look at the broad, handsome lines of his back. He stretched out his hand towards him slowly, not quite close enough to touch. Even the simple brush of their fingers together would have been enough to put him at ease, but he knew better than to ask for it. Oscar withdrew his hand and let the familiar ache settle in his heart.

The further they went together, the more he regretted getting Charlie involved. He was too accustomed to the constant, solid presence of his friend. Too much of a coward to do this alone. This is your responsibility, not his. There ought to be no relief for you until that man is dead. But he knew Charlie was the kind of man who would follow his friends anywhere if it meant protecting them. Oscar watched his shoulders rise and fall with even breaths, and ached to kiss the jagged scars on his back again. The space between them seemed to stretch for miles, and it was a long time before sleep overcame him.

-

The cliff’s edge crumbled under his feet, and Oscar’s body hit the water with barely a splash. He had both arms this time, but it still wasn’t enough to get him to the surface. He was never strong enough to climb out of the fathomless depths on his own.

A lifesaver ring splashed into the water from above, moving on its own through the water. It wrapped itself around Oscar’s shoulders, and a feeling of warmth and safety settled into him when the lifesaver began to drag him towards the surface. His head broke through the water, and a tallship with billowing white sails towered over him. Someone familiar walked back and forth on the bow. Wisps of smoke trailed from the white sails towards Oscar’s face, and the faint scent of tobacco put him at ease.

–

The dream faded to the dark room when the side of the bed squeaked and dipped again. The lit end of a cigarette made a small pinpoint of light over the bed, the only thing visible in the darkness. Oscar cracked open one eye to watch the dim coal bob and walk around the room, occasionally blotted out by a puff of smoke. He knew Charlie wouldn’t be back to bed until dawn, not with the way he was pacing, and the bed was even colder now. The late September nights were just as chilly in Chicago as they were in New York, but the wind was fiercer, and it rattled the windows and howled while Oscar shivered alone under the thin blanket.

–

A spray of freezing, dirty water sprayed from the car’s tires. Oscar barely managed to jump back in time to keep from being drenched, and he bit his tongue to keep from shouting at the driver. Every shadow was a lurking horror in his mind, and he fidgeted in place nervously while Charlie talked out of earshot to a man across the street. The expression on Charlie’s face turned irritated, and the old man shrugged. Eventually they shook hands and he rejoined Oscar on the other side of the street.

“Well? What did you learn?”

“Jack and shit. None of my old man’s contacts are left in the city.”

“Not any of them?” Oscar looked around to see if anyone noticed how loud he’d been, and he lowered his voice. “Did you at least learn where Capone is?”

“He was in Atlanta for a while, but apparently he just got transferred to someplace new. Nobody knows anything about it.” Charlie frowned. “The way that guy was talking, it sounds like all the old-timers are actively trying not to know. Like they’re putting on blinders.”

“So we’re back to square one. How much money do we have left?”

Charlie took out his wallet, pulled it open to look inside and sighed. “Not enough for both food and board. We’ll need to actually find work while we’re here.”

They walked down the street as they talked and passed an alley on the side. Out of the corner of his eye Oscar saw a lean figure in dark clothes slip behind them. He caught Charlie’s eye and raised his eyebrows. Did you see him too? Charlie nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets, radiating nonchalance.

“If we make it long enough for that,” Oscar muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“We’ll figure something out, you’ll see.”

“This too shall pass, aye?”

Charlie half-smiled at him, a little sad. “Yeah. Something like that.”

They turned down a street ending abruptly in a brick wall. “Shit.” Charlie kept one hand in his pocket. “I should have done more homework on learning those maps. Don’t say it,” he pointed a finger at Oscar, who shut his mouth with a click of his teeth before he could remind him of just how many times over the past few weeks Oscar had made the exact same suggestion.

They turned around to face the mugger. He was painfully thin, and didn’t smile when he brandished a knife at them. “The wallet, and anything else you got in your pockets.”

Oscar glanced down to where Charlie kept his hand covered. “What was that about things working themselves out?”

“Maybe it should have been something more along the lines of, y’know, there’s a silver lining in everything. For example, at least this guy probably isn’t a cultist.” Charlie gestured at the figure with the hand that wasn’t resting in his pocket. They hadn’t had time to replace the special Oscar had thrown away in the woods of the New Jersey pine barrens. He hoped the hand making the shape of a gun was enough to fool the man.

“Probably? That’s a lot to stake on a hunch.” Oscar looked at Charlie pointedly.

“Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t had a hot meal in weeks.”

The man advanced with the knife and jabbed it towards them. “Shut up! Unless you want a couple of new holes-” The sudden click of an actual gun behind the mugger made his eyes widen.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I need to have a conversation with these gentlemen.” A woman’s accented voice spoke lightly, and she pressed the muzzle of her derringer hard against the back of the mugger’s head. He dropped the knife to put up his hands, and the clanging of the blade echoed through the alley. “Off you go now.” The man turned on his heel and ran away without looking behind him. Lambert uncocked the gun and put it away daintily in her clutch. “And that’s two you owe me.”

“Do you keep a tally of everyone who owes you, or is it just us?” Oscar wasn’t enthusiastic to see her again.

She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Oh, I have a scorecard set aside for everyone, darling. Be glad you only have the two notches on it.”

He scowled at her. On anyone else the come-hither eyes would have been flirtatious, but she managed to make the look patronizing. “Why are you even here? I thought you’d gone back to New York. Have you been following us?”

Lambert raised her eyebrows at Charlie, who was staring straight ahead over the top of her head and deliberately not looking at either of them. Oscar whipped his head around to glare at him. “Oh, don’t tell me-”

Charlie shrank from his glare. “Ok, in my defense I didn’t actually ask her to come here.”

“It’s true, he sent me a ‘gram before you two left. He asked if I still had any underworld contacts in the city.”

“I was just, y’know,” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. “Covering all my bases. I didn’t think she’d take that as an invitation.”

Oscar wished he could fold his arms at the two of them. He settled for a clenched fist hanging tensely at his side. “So what would send you all the way to Chicago instead of just writing to us?”

“You think I’m here just for your sake?” Her bright red lips turned upwards in a smirk. “I have my own plans and goings-on, darling. This is just a happy coincidence.” She fluttered her eyes at him again.

Oscar didn’t believe her for a second. He bumped Charlie with his elbow and made motions to leave the alley. “This has been a lovely chat, but we really should be getting on. We’ve got work to do.” He put more force on his last words, hoping to drive home the point, and made an exasperated sound when Charlie hesitated.

“You never did answer my ‘gram. You got anybody left that’ll talk to us about Capone?”

She sighed, and shook her head regretfully. “The age of mobsters is passing, sad to say. Most have either died, gone to prison, or moved on to more legitimate establishments. Lucky for you two though, there’s still one of Scarface’s lieutenants working a club here.”

“And I’m assuming you know how to get in contact with him?”

She tilted her chin towards him. “For a price, yes.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “There it is.”

“We aren’t exactly flush with dough, Missy. What do you want?”

She waved him off. “Oh, that’s no problem. I want you to spend some of my money at The Castle.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Enough talking in circles,” Oscar growled. “Tell us exactly what you want us to do.”

She placed a hand on her chest and gasped dramatically. “You wound me! Behaving as if I were asking for your firstborn. All I want is for you to have a good time. Get dressed up, listen to the band play, dance a bit, spend some money on expensive drinks. I’ll give you all the funds you need.”

Oscar eyed her suspiciously. “And…?”

“And let me accompany you whenever you go. That’s it.” She shrugged. “The owner’s leery of new faces, but a bit of crisp thrown around will soften anyone up. Spend a week going there and once you’ve made yourselves comfortable, start asking the servers about going behind the curtains. Say something along the lines of wanting to add some more chips to the pot. If you’re able to get me that far, you’ll have no trouble setting up a meeting with the owner.”

“Oh, it’s a gambling joint.” Charlie nodded in understanding. “Can’t you do this by yourself? Why do you need us to be your cover?”

“And how do you have so many contacts in the underworld? I thought you were a débutante.”

“I don’t believe either of those things are any of your business, dears.” She had been breezy and lighthearted up until now, but this was said with more steel.

“A couple of guys just show up out of nowhere in nice snazzy suits, start spending some money and asking questions about illegal gambling? Even you’d be able to recognize that as undercover cop behavior. You don’t think they’d be suspicious of us from the get-go?”

Lambert waved him off again. “Not if you let me dress you and get you cleaned up. There are some looks that are very fashionable right now for this kind of club.”

“What exactly are we walking into here?” said Oscar, still wary. He could sense an ulterior motive under everything, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was she wanted from them.

“Again you wound me! I think you’ll fit right in, once you’ve gotten nice and shiny.” She winked at Oscar, who narrowed his eyes.

Charlie contemplated her for a bit. “This kinda club, huh. What is it, a crow’s nest?”

“It leans more towards being a henhouse. I’ve heard the owner prefers the chickies, but chapon are tolerated so long as they behave. Even more so if they come in pairs.”

A wave of irritation washed over Oscar. He didn’t understand what they were talking about and the feeling only worsened, his spirits sinking when Lambert leaned upwards to whisper in Charlie’s ear. He had expected Charlie to still be furious with her, but they were getting on like a house on fire. I wonder if he knew her even before Egypt. It would explain a lot.

“So it’s decided!” She grabbed both of them by the elbows. “Come with me, boys. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Charlie stumbled in her surprisingly strong grip. Oscar deliberately dug his feet into the concrete and made her drag him out of the alleyway.

–

“That makes no sense.” Charlie’s voice was slightly muffled by the curtain divider. “You wanna stay on skid row while she’s offering to let us stay with her on the north side?”

Oscar looked in the full length mirror at the way the suit fitted him. It was well-made and handsome, warm golds and browns with spats and a new hat to match. He didn’t want to think about how much it had cost just to get it tailored to his size. “Just us being there would put her at risk, you know.” It was true enough. She had put herself in a great deal of danger helping them out from under Sawney’s nose, and while the woman annoyed him, he didn’t want to see any harm come to her. And I also don’t want to be beholden to her any more than I have to be.

He placed the fedora on his head, turned to look at the coattails and frowned. The ensemble was attractive, and comfortable enough, but it felt wrong on him somehow. “I feel a fool.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. What’s wrong with it?”

He missed his plain black cassock. The suit felt like it had been made for someone else - someone who could hold themselves with ease, who knew the lingo and could mingle with both the elite and the underworld. Someone with money, looks, charm and wit. Someone who’s not me. “I’m just not used to wearing this sort of style.” He turned to the other side and sighed at the limp left arm of the jacket. “It fits fine on the one side, but…”

“We can get it tailored again if you need it. You’ll need to draw the curtain eventually, though. Lemme see what color scheme she picked out for you.”

Oscar reluctantly drew back the curtain. “We’ve spent too much time getting gussied up already. Just pin the arm up for me, will you?”

He looked over his shoulder and his breath caught in his throat. Charlie’s suit was perfectly tailored to fit him, the cut of the blue and silver stripes complimenting his waist and broad shoulders. A little too well, Oscar turned his head away before Charlie could see how warm his face was getting. It was quiet behind him, and Oscar fidgeted a little in place. “If it doesn’t look good on me then we can-”

“No!” Charlie coughed and cleared his throat. “No, you look great.”

Oscar eyed him over his shoulder. “Promise you’re not just saying that?”

“Hand over my heart.” Charlie picked up a stray safety pin from the counter and folded the left arm of Oscar’s jacket. This close he could smell the lingering tobacco smoke and aftershave, and it was getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes away from Charlie’s face.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Oscar muttered.

–

Light danced through the crystals of the gold chandeliers, giving the club a warm glow. Tables were filled with men and women, some eating from small plates of snacks, others chatting and drinking. The bar sat at the main doors with several customers milling around it, and the sides of the room were draped with heavy, dark red velvet curtains. The tables were centered around a stage with a full band playing a swing tune, and a singer crooned at the microphone.

A bouncer stood near the double doors, more interested in the bar than in watching the people going in and out. A glance was barely spared to the two men walking in. Lambert stood at the far side of Oscar, stepping in stride with him. She produced an elaborate makeup mirror from her clutch and flipped it open to peer at it.

“I thought you’d be the type to enjoy attention when you walked into a place like this,” Oscar said drily.

“Trust me, I get plenty of attention here.” She studied the small compact mirror, leaning it in her hand slightly towards the bar, and relaxed at whatever she saw.

“Should we be worried about how lax the security is around here?” Oscar eyed the bouncer, who was chatting up one of the women at the bar.

Charlie nudged him with his elbow and made a slight motion with his chin at either side of the room. “That guy’s a decoy. The guys on the sides are the ones to look out for.” Now that they were pointed out, Oscar could tell by the posture of the men leaning against the curtains that they were much more attentive, and packing heat.

Lambert’s shimmy black dress bounced as she took their elbows and enthusiastically led them to an empty table. “Wait here, I’ll get you some drinks.” Oscar watched her order at the bar. He still wasn’t convinced they weren’t being used in some sort of charade.

The band began to pick up another song, a tune that set Oscar’s fingers tapping on the table to the rhythm. He didn’t even notice he was doing it until he did a slight double take at Charlie’s grin. He lightly smacked him across the knuckles. “All right, you can stop mugging at me now.”

“Not as bad as you thought it was gonna be, right? It’s actually a nice little joint.”

“I suppose so,” Oscar sighed in a mock-suffering tone and tried to keep the smile from tugging at his lips. “And you’re off the hook now as well.”

“Hey, that’s right! You’ve never been to one of these places before, yeah?”

Their conversation was interrupted by two highballs placed on napkins in front of them. Lambert put one with a dark liquor in front of Oscar, and the other light and fizzy with a wedge of lemon in front of Charlie. “Enjoy yourselves, boys. I’ve got to see a girl about a dog.” She waved a manicured hand over her head before either of them could reply, bouncing up the stairs and disappearing around the corner of the bar.

Oscar couldn’t help but scan his eyes around the place again. The relaxed environment wasn’t enough to keep his fear at bay entirely. “So what’s the point of the decoy at the door?”

Charlie was inspecting their drinks, and he hummed around a piece of ice he had popped into his mouth. “Main door guys are trained to act casual to throw off anyone coming in who’s looking to start trouble. Places like these have all got their own unique signals and codes, if he caught a whiff of anything that smelled funny he’d be the first one the guys on the curtains would be looking to.” The ice crunched around his words. Oscar nodded, and continued to look around the club. Various oddities and patterns of the patrons began to stand out to him, and he looked from couple to couple to see if it was the same across the board. “Is that woman wearing a tuxedo? And a top hat?”

Charlie squinted over at the couple and nodded. “Huh. Yeah, and I think that one’s wearing slacks.”

Oscar glanced around again curiously. What he thought were men he saw now were mostly women, some in dresses, and some in tailored slacks and suits like the two of them were wearing. Now he could see that there were only a handful of men in the audience, all of them paired together as couples the same way the women were. Oscar watched one of the men - or what he assumed was a man, he wasn’t sure at this point - slip his hand surreptitiously around the waist of the other man he was sitting with.

He looked to see that Charlie was watching him, and his eyes followed Oscar’s line of sight to the couple. Oscar turned with the question on his tongue, and Charlie raised his eyebrows in a little facial shrug before he could speak. He understood, but it was still surprising. “So is this what you meant by crow’s nest?”

“That’s when it’s mostly men. This is a…let’s call it a co-ed joint, that leans more towards favoring the girls. We’re safe enough here, in that kinda regard anyway. As long as it doesn’t get raided.” Charlie leaned his mouth towards his ear to speak more softly. The vibrations of his voice so close to Oscar’s cheek made a sweet shiver run up and down his spine. “I know I’m the last person you’d think would stop worrying about these kinds of things, but as long as we’re in a big public space like this, I don’t think anyone else is gonna be making that big of a scene either. As long as we stick together and keep each other in sight.”

He had a point. The tension began to slip away, and Oscar’s shoulders relaxed. The fear wasn’t gone, but it was muted, and the sharp edges were dulled by the music and the warm breath at his ear. “I knew there were places like this, especially in Greenwich Village. I just…I never thought I’d be able to see one in person.” I never thought anyone would want to go with me to one, he wanted to say. Oscar quietly slid his hand along the table towards Charlie. He bumped the sides of their pinkies together, and the singer finished her song. The sound of applause filled the room while they sipped their drinks and shared a private look.

Chapter Text

It took a couple of nights to find a routine that worked for them. They slept during the day, and pretended to be high-rolling men in search of a good time during the evening. Lambert had them try on several premade suits before they settled in. “You’re supposed to look nouveau-riche, darling. You can’t be seen wearing the same old thing twice in as many days.” Oscar didn’t bother to hide his disdain. She accompanied them every night, watching the bouncers through her compact mirror, and sat them down with an open tab and a few vague excuses before disappearing into the club.

One memorable night she apparently spotted someone she recognized through the mirror and fled the club without any explanation. Oscar peered over her shoulder before she left, but on closer inspection the knobbled and warped glass left him even more confused. “I really feel like she’s setting us up for a world of hurt.” The sweet burn of the cognac lingered on Oscar’s lips and the back of his tongue as he sipped it. His wariness hadn’t waned, but the expensive liquor was starting to be too good to pass up.

“Yeah, I know she’s full of bullshit. But you got any better ideas?”

Oscar grumbled and glanced up to see two young, giggling men stumbling towards their table. One of them pushed the other closer and the boy blushed. “My friend and I were wondering if you two were exclusive.”

Both Oscar and Charlie were mid-sip of their drinks and they choked in unison. “You’re a bold one, ain’t ya?” Charlie coughed.

“If you aren’t, well. Maybe we trade partners for the night?”

“We aren’t together, but you are far too young to be asking us that sort of thing,” Oscar said firmly. “Off with ye.” He dismissed the disappointed boys with a pointed finger. They stalked out of the club and Charlie gave him a sidelong look. Oscar shook his head. “What are the youth coming to these days.”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah.” Charlie spoke distantly into his tonic water and looked down at the melted ice. “Right.” Oscar watched him and waited for him to continue, but Charlie kept his eyes on his drink. Whatever else he wanted to say hung silently in the air between them, and soon the band struck up another song.

–-

Waves hurled against the rocky base of the bell tower. Oscar dragged himself up the last step to the top and pulled the rotten wooden boards apart from the wall. “Help me!” The small voice cried weakly from within. “Someone, please help!” Oscar could never reply, as much as he tried. The last board pulled free and the darkness waited within.

He screamed in silent horror at the dead man’s distorted face suddenly bursting through the darkness. The hired thug slumped against the wall, his face frozen in surprised rictus, and blood spread like a blooming flower from the bullet wound in his chest. Oscar stumbled backwards and plummeted from the tower into a fathomless dark ocean.

He was drowning again, until the shadow of a figure standing weightlessly on top of the water put down a helping hand. From the figure’s hand a rope wound its way down Oscar’s struggling arm and formed into a thick cloth around him. A faint thought of surprise flickered in the back of his mind of how comforting the pressure was, when he should have been terrified to be restrained. The cloth became a diving suit that entirely encased him and he took a huge relieved breath once the helmet was over his head. The figure at the top of the water spoke in a distorted voice. “You alright?”

Oscar snapped his eyes awake to the sight of Charlie sitting fully dressed on his side of the bed and their hands resting together. Oscar slipped his out from underneath to drag down his exhausted face, and sighed at Charlie’s look of concern. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream. I’m glad you woke me up.”

Charlie put his thumbs in his suspenders and snapped them. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s almost time for the club to open up, let’s shake a leg.”

Oscar sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He still hadn’t recovered from the previous night’s libations, and the sides of his head pounded. He dragged his hand down his face again and tried to dress himself as quickly as possible. I just need a small drink, something light to help me get back on my feet. Maybe I’ll stay away from the cognac tonight.

The shirt garters were his least favorite part of the outfits. The tailor had given them stays, elastic bands that fitted around the tops of the knees and clipped to the bottom of the shirt so they wouldn’t need to tuck them in. Clipping the shirt once they were on was easy enough, but cinching the band’s small buckle around his thigh was harder to do one-handed than he had anticipated. Oscar grumbled as he tried to thread the fabric. It wouldn’t pull through evenly, the elastic bunching up under the buckle no matter which way he pushed it. “Piss and shite!” he hissed under his breath.

“Having some trouble over there?”

Oscar threw the garter to the side. “I’ll just tuck it in. Who’s going to notice if I have a bit of a wrinkle at my belt?”

Charlie came to stand beside him. “Apparently the only thing rich people really do is notice how they look.” He picked up the garter and held it out in his hand, waiting for Oscar to react. It was one of the many small things Oscar loved about him. He never asked directly if he needed help, just gave little subtle hints that he was there and willing. If Oscar felt he could do something on his own, Charlie never argued with him or complained. Oscar eyed the garter and shrugged his good shoulder irritably. “Just pull it tight for me.” He looped the fabric around his thigh and didn’t think anything more about it until Charlie knelt in front of him.

The sight of him between his legs made his mouth go dry. Oscar audibly swallowed. “You’re going to dirty your knees,” he said in a rough voice. He thought Charlie was just going to lean over and do the thing quickly, not linger around the bare skin of Oscar’s exposed thigh.

Charlie didn’t look up from where he was working. “Quit your belly-aching. I’m barely on the floor.” He took the other garter and Oscar hesitated briefly before lifting up just enough for him to loop it around his other leg. Every touch of the long fingers brushing against his bare skin made his pulse beat faster. I wonder if he can feel how fast it’s going, where he’s touching. Finally both garters were tied, and Charlie glanced up. Their eyes met, the tension stretched hot between them.

Oscar broke it by clearing his throat and turning his face away. It’s for the best. He wants it to be just business, that’s how it ought to be. He stood up abruptly and smoothed out the edges of the shirt clipped to the garters. Charlie had taken his hands back, one of them on the wallet that was now halfway out of his back pocket, but there was only so much Oscar could take right now. Especially while he was on his knees and looking up at him like that.

Charlie sat kneeling by the side of the bed for a moment before joining him by the small wardrobe in front of the bed. He reached for a belt and Oscar quickly snatched it out of his hand. “I’m fine to do that one by meself, thank you.”

–-

The walk between the apartment and The Castle wasn’t a short one. Even as tired as he was, Oscar kept his head on a swivel. Being in the club was a small relief, but outside of it the dread that had been dammed up started to trickle back through.

Movement flashed in his peripheral and he barely stopped himself from turning around. It was too dark to see properly, and the streetlights were too dim to catch Charlie’s eye. Eventually they made it to the club’s entrance, and in the light of the gold lanterns over the door Oscar raised his eyebrows in a question at him.

“Oh, I saw him, alright,” said Charlie.

“And? You don’t seem worried.”

Something Oscar didn’t fully recognize flickered across Charlie’s face. It made him look older, the lines and shadows deepening in sorrow around his eyes. They both turned around sharply to see a man in ragged clothes stumble down the sidewalk towards them. Oscar kept close to the door but the man ignored them, sitting down heavily on the sidewalk and leaning his head against the tire of a car parked against the curb. He started snoring almost immediately.

“It’s another one of the guys that got off the train the same time as us.” The sadness faded to Charlie’s usual half-sided grin when he noticed Oscar watching him. “He’s probably just made this neighborhood his beat.”

It didn’t put Oscar completely at ease. “That seems very convenient. I hope you’re right.”

“If I’m not…” Charlie trailed off and shrugged, and the expression flickered across his face again. “Like I said, as long as we’re always watching each others’ backs, they can’t get the drop on me and thee.” He bumped their elbows together lightly.

They were interrupted by polished fingernails clutching at the backs of their arms. “The night is young, boys,” Lambert piped up enthusiastically before pushing them both inside. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

–-

Another night, the band played fast-paced songs and couples danced enthusiastically to the music in front of the stage. The song ended in thunderous applause, and Charlie leaned in close.

Oscar cut him off before he could speak. “Not a chance.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You didn’t have to, I know the answer to it.”

“Oh, you’re a mind-reader now?”

“Aye, but I’m only tuned to you. And the answer is no, I am not going out there. You can go on if you like, but you’ll do it on your own.”

Charlie slipped his hand out of his back pocket and settled back in his seat. “Alright, alright. What have you got against dancing anyway?”

“Nothing, when I’m watching other people do it. Or when other people aren’t watching me.”

“But you got nothing against people looking at you when you’re talking up in a pulpit or singing in a choir?”

“That’s different,” Oscar huffed. “I’m decent at both of those.”

“I get it. I’m all left feet myself.” Charlie leaned closer to him again. “So you got mind-reading powers, huh?” He placed his chin on his hand, giving Oscar a heavy-lidded look. “If I’m the only station you can pick up, can you tell what I’m thinking right now?” He grinned, the innuendo thick and sweet as honey, and Oscar could have eaten him up right there and then.

“Nothing I ought to repeat, naughty boy,” Oscar said into his glass.

–-

The cliff holding the bell tower crumbled, and crimson waves rushed towards him. He fell for what felt like an eternity, flashes of a horrific, alien landscape blinking behind his eyes. Spires of a dark mountain studded with corpses, a huge arthropodic city suspended from a lake with chains embedded in its belly, and a brief vision of a huge, spindle-legged creature with a burning spotlight for a head wandering a muddy field of barbed wire. This time when he hit the surface there was no helping hand. The bottomless depths dragged his thrashing body down to a watery grave.

Oscar coughed himself awake violently, his body still trying to expel the dream water. He took a few heavy breaths and settled back down on his hard pillow with a sigh. Another day, another nightmare. They were getting progressively worse.

A low moan from the other side of the bed made Oscar snap his head around. Visions of the hellish landscape and the swallowing ocean faded to their bare room, the dawn outlining Charlie’s body curled up beside him. The fear that had gripped him dissipated to concern at the tightly wound muscles of Charlie’s back and shoulders. His hands hugged the sides of his ribs, and he made soft terrified noises in his sleep. Oscar mentally kicked himself. You’re supposed to be the one helping him, lazy layabout. “I’m here, Charlie. It’s alright, I’m here.” Oscar went around to the other side of the bed and knelt beside him. He reached out to place a hand on his shoulder and stopped short, reaching down instead to brush the back of his knuckles against where Charlie was gripping the sheets. Charlie grasped at it in his sleep tightly and Oscar gritted his teeth through the pain.

It took a while for him to relax and let go. Oscar took his bruised hand back and sat down next to him on the floor, smoothing the sweat-drenched hair away from Charlie’s forehead and listening to the morning wind howl outside the window.

–-

A night at the end of the week. Oscar was ready to figure out who he needed to talk to about going behind the scenes. The club was packed, and waiters weaved in between the tables. The two leaned their heads towards one another to be heard over the other patrons’ voices.

“I’m only saying that you’ve given her a lot of leeway without any returns,” said Oscar.

“I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her, but I do know she’s telling the truth about the club’s owner.”

Oscar raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, and Charlie gestured with a sweeping hand. “Really, there are signs all over the place that this is a gangster-owned joint.”

“Such as?”

“How relaxed everyone is. You don’t get this many of us,” Charlie tilted his head back and forth, indicating the two of them, “in one spot without a few looking over their shoulders, especially at greenhorns.”

Oscar glanced around the club. He had a point. While many of the couples were trying to be subtle, others were more blatant about their passions. Oscar hummed a disgruntled noise. “That doesn’t mean the owner has connections.”

“No, but it does indicate a certain level of protection you wouldn’t get anywhere else. That, and you saw the bouncers were all packing, right?” Oscar nodded. He’d noticed it on the first day, and he scanned the curtains and balconies to look again. A comfortable chair was set up overlooking the floor of the club on one of the taller balconies, the shadow of crossed legs the only visible feature of the person who sat in it. The figure lifted a lit cigar and took a deep drag, puffing out a few circles of smoke. Their face was hidden by the lighting and the hat pulled over the eyes, but Oscar still felt like he was being watched. It made goosebumps rise up along his arm and he looked at Charlie to see if he noticed, flicking his gaze and raising his eyebrows above them. Charlie followed his line of sight and didn’t linger long, only giving a slight nod of acknowledgement.

He continued on as if they hadn’t seen anything. “Another thing is the clientele. You don’t see that many mixed clubs, right? But everyone’s getting along just fine here.”

Oscar looked around the club again. That was true as well. None of the tables were segregated, and there were no separate bathrooms or signs above the bar. His attention was caught by a group of both white and black women sitting together at a table. Two of them whispered to each other, while one sipped from a champagne flute. Underneath the table one of the women surreptitiously took out a jewelry box, opening it and handing something small to the other.

“That’s another sign, because gangsters usually don’t care about any color other than green. Money’s the only thing that really talks.” Oscar nodded absently at him, still watching the women. One woman handed her empty glass to the others, while the other two refilled the drink and dropped something into the bottom that glinted in the chandelier’s light. The two giggled quietly to each other and set the glass back in front of the other girl. She dipped it back for a sip and squealed when the metal clinked against her teeth. The two women laughed joyfully at her reaction while the others at the table clapped and laughed along with them, and she drained her drink to put on the ring. It drove a knife into his heart. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, feeling this way over something so lovely.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“What? Yes, I’m listening. I just…” The rings the three wore all matched, and each of them grabbed the other’s hands with delight in their eyes. The knife twisted, and Oscar stood up quickly from their table. He couldn’t watch anymore. “I need another drink.”

–-

One of the last nights they had to keep this charade up, or so Oscar hoped. He waved off the offer of another drink and left the bar to go back to his seat as quickly as he could with leaden, exhausted legs. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to fend off the man’s advances, even before he’d started asking about going behind the scenes. The waiters had pointed them towards several of the regular customers to talk to when they started dropping hints, and some were better company than others.

He took a deep sip of his expensive whiskey. Charlie sat beside him with a blank expression on his face, and dropped some of the ash of his cigarette into the glass ashtray. “You talking to Hendricks again? You were gone longer this time.”

“No, it was Shaw this time, I got tangled up.”

Charlie’s eyes hardened and his head swiveled to look at the bar. “I really don’t like that guy. Something about him gives me the creeps.”

Oscar hummed in agreement. “You think I need to keep an eye on him?”

“Just make sure you know who poured your drinks.”

Oscar nodded. “I wish it had been Jerry, at least he’s more interesting to talk to.” The wary expression on Charlie’s face went back to a lazy blankness.

“Did you know he works for John Powers?”

“Who?”

“The one who opened up a modeling school in New York. He’s here looking to bring in some new talent.” It wasn’t that long ago he’d be too flustered to even talk to someone that influential, let alone that handsome.

“News to me. Make sure you eat something before getting any more of that rotgut.” Speaking of handsome… Charlie’s clipped and distracted tone didn’t take away from how good he looked. The new scar over his eyebrow only made him more dashing, and in the warm interior of the club he had undone one of the top buttons of his collar. It exposed the light shadow of a beard on his lower jaw and the hollow of his throat, and it grew harder to focus on anything else as the night went on. Oscar could tell something was bothering him, but by his third drink and the second collar button undone it slipped from his mind.

He was imagining tearing out the rest of the buttons with his teeth and how the underside of Charlie’s chin would feel under his tongue when the band transitioned to a smoother tune, and a waiter suddenly placed an ice bucket with a bottle in it on their table. Two glasses were placed in front of them.

“Did you order that?” asked Charlie.

“Not me.” Oscar turned to the waiter apologetically. “This isn’t ours, sorry.”

“It’s complimentary, sir. A gift from table seven.” The waiter nodded towards one of the tables closer to the stage. Hendricks sat with a well-dressed gentleman, and they grinned as they raised their champagne flutes towards the two.

“Oh! Well, if it’s a gift, it would be rude to let it go to waste.” Oscar nodded at the waiter, who popped the cork with a loud bang. Charlie jumped in his seat at the noise.

“You sure that’s a good idea? You’ve already had four fingers of whiskey.” The waiter pouring the champagne glanced up mid-pour at Charlie, and looked between the two.

Oscar shrugged and took a sip of the champagne. It was lightly sweet, and it fizzed down his throat delightfully. “It’s not very strong. I know you don’t usually indulge, but are you sure you don’t want just a sip?”

“I’m good.” The words went back to their distant tone, and a muscle tensed on the side of Charlie’s jaw. Oscar saw it, and the part of him that had been screaming to get back on task began to claw its way out. A few more sips of the champagne put it back in its place where he had smothered it. He’d been good at keeping his wits about him with the drink, and it was nice not to feel like every nerve was on fire for once. It also softened the feeling of eyes watching him around every corner. It’s just this one night, he can live with it.

The bottle was nearly empty by the time the band tapered off into silence. A couple of the members looked at each other uncertainly, and began playing one of the previous songs again. An antsy murmur rippled through the audience.

“What happened to the music?”

“Joyce was supposed to be here by now, she’s the main singer tonight.” Charlie’s eyes darted around the room. His voice was more tense and on edge now, Oscar could tell even with the fuzziness clouding the edges of his vision. He didn’t return the comforting squeeze of Oscar’s hand on his arm.

A rush of movement to their table made them both jump. Lambert sat panting in front of them. “If you want to clear your scorecards, this is how you do it.” She flapped her hands at them irritably when they tried to speak at the same time. “Boucle-la and listen to me! Joyce is sick, I told one of the bouncers I had entertainment ready if we could meet with the owner afterwards. Take the next minute to decide which one of you is going up on stage.”

They stared at her in horror and the cigarette dropped from Charlie’s open mouth to land in his drink with a sizzle. “You’re really throwing us to the wolves, Missy.”

“Is there anything I do for no reason, idiot? All you need to do is entertain the crowd for a bit, then you’ll get your meeting.”

“What the hell do you expect us to do?”

Lambert spread her hands in frustration. “I don’t know, tell a few jokes? Dance a bit?”

Charlie laughed harshly. “Oh, so we’re just a couple of circus monkeys to you, huh.”

“This is how you get to the top, fou!” She banged her fist on the table. A couple of people over to the side glanced at her. “I guarantee this will work.”

“It’s real convenient that Joyce would get sick all of a sudden.”

“Oh, you think I had something to do with this? How dare you!”

“I’ll do it.” Oscar had been listening to them argue in silence until now.

“And guaranteed doesn’t mean squat coming from - wait, what?” Charlie looked at him with his mouth hanging open again.

“I’m a pretty decent singer. I can do it.” Terror started to fight its way up through his twisting stomach, but the confidence boost from the alcohol overpowered it. He stood up from the table a little too quickly and grabbed the top of the chair to steady himself. Charlie placed a hand on top of his.

“At least someone here has some guts.” Lambert stood up from her chair as well and Charlie glared at her. He turned to Oscar and kept their hands touching. “Os, you don’t gotta do this.”

“It’ll be alright. If I make an arse out of myself, at least they’ll have a show.” He slipped away from him and patted Charlie’s hand before he left the table.

“That’s the spirit!” Lambert clapped her hands together excitedly, and Oscar shrugged on his jacket and his hat while she led him to the stage. She paused briefly to whisper in his ear. “What do you want them to play?”

Oscar blinked, thinking back to the sleepless late nights at the rectory. He liked to listen to the radio turned down low with his ear to it so it wouldn’t bother anyone. “What’s that one Belle Baker song that goes, uh…take all of me?”

“I know the exact one.”

“Wait!” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Fear and the liquid confidence were racing to the finish line, and fear was starting to come out on top. “Tell…tell them to play it a little slower. I don’t think I’d be able to sing it at her pace.”

She nodded and hopped up the stairs, bending down to talk in the ear of a couple of the musicians. They nodded in agreement and passed it along to the others. A few familiar notes played, and Lambert steadied Oscar in front of the microphone. All the eyes of the club were on him, and his throat closed up. He suddenly realized exactly what he was about to do, and he froze.

Movement from his table caught his eye. He was just barely able to make out Charlie mouthing something silently. Keep your eyes on me.

He kept his eyes on their table, the first few words of the song quiet and faltering.

‘All of me…’

Charlie nodded and mouthed the words again, pointing to his eyes. It pushed the terror down a little, and his voice swelled with the music.

‘Why not take all of me~’

His voice rose again, this time with more confidence. Charlie mimed the motion again, and held his gaze.

‘Can’t you see, I’m no good without you~’

The spotlight darkened the rest of the room, and focusing his eyes on Charlie made the rest of the club melt away. It was just the two of them now.

‘Take my lips, I want to lose them~’

He swung around with the microphone stand, letting the left arm of his jacket sway.

‘Take my arms, I’ll never use them~’

Laughter rippled through the crowd. He barely heard it, all of his focus on singing to the man he loved.

‘How can I go on without you?~’

He took the microphone stand and dipped it like a dance partner, closing his eyes.

‘You took the part that once was my heart~’

He opened his eyes to look at Charlie.

‘So why not take all of me?~’

Charlie stared at him with the same look he had on his face in the dressing room, sitting still as the room exploded into an uproar of applause. It was just background noise for Oscar. He only had eyes for Charlie.

The disappointment crushed him when they broke eye contact, Charlie tilting his head to listen to Lambert whispering in his ear. Oscar could see her pointing towards the bar and Charlie getting out of his seat when a mob of excited people crowded him at the bottom of the stairs. He tried to look over the sea of heads, absently shaking hands and patting shoulders.

“Excellent show, dear boy! Excellent show!”

“Your voice is so lovely! I nearly cried.”

“Have you considered going on the road? I have people you can talk to.”

The words of congratulations and adoration surrounded him in a whirlwind and overwhelmed him, keeping him from leaving the stage steps. A familiar voice piped up behind his back. “You simply must do an encore!” He turned to see Lambert wink at him before ducking behind his back, letting several patrons crowd her so she was hidden from sight.

A murmur rippled through the crowd surrounding them. “Agreed, we should have him perform downstairs,” said Hendricks. Several members had their heads turned upwards hopefully, and the shadowed seated figure waved its hand in a beckoning motion. The crowd excitedly began to lead him down the stairs and across the room. He turned around to look at Lambert’s hand on his shoulder and stumbled at the sudden movement. “Where’s Charlie? He should be here too.”

“I’ve got Dowd playing his part, don’t worry about him.” Before he could protest he was swept along to the velvet curtains. It lifted to the side to reveal a steel door, leading up and down flights of concrete stairs. They went down a couple flights, and opened a door to a much darker but no less expansive room. Oscar coughed at the heavy cigar smoke hanging in the air. “Why did we leave Charlie behind? What did you tell him?” People with stacks of chips and cards sitting at the tables glanced at him suspiciously.

A touch on his back made him turn to see Lambert with a wide grin on her face. She winked at him again before slinking off and disappearing behind a cloud of cigar smoke. He was alone in the unfamiliar room, and couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been hoodwinked. He backed up against the door. This wasn’t something he wanted to do without his partner.

The door was flung open suddenly and he nearly fell through it, caught at the last second by falling into Charlie’s arms. “Where have you been?” Oscar said, slurring on the last couple of words.

“You’re asking me? That’s rich.” There was shouting from the stairs, and bouncers were running close behind him with glowering looks. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving!” Charlie yelled. “I just need to talk to my partner for a second, back off.”

The bouncers glared at him until they were out of the poker den and back on the stairwell. Charlie kept his arm linked around Oscar’s elbow. “Come on, we need to regroup. This can wait ‘til another time.”

“Why? We’ve made it this far,” Oscar protested.

“For starters, you’re way too deep in your cups,” Charlie muttered.

Oscar ripped his arm out of his grip. “I’m not that far gone, I can handle it. What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?” Charlie stopped in the stairwell to stare at him incredulously. “What’s gotten into me is you leaving, without a word otherwise. What was I supposed to think?”

“I thought you were helping Lambert.”

Charlie stormed through the door they had stopped at, leading them into a place that looked to be an area used mainly by maintenance and housekeeping. Oscar was having a hard time focusing on anything other than the long lines of his legs and the way the coattails of the jacket curved against his waist. Charlie paced back and forth in front of him a couple of times in frustration. “One minute you’re there and the next you’re gone, I turn my back for a second to…to deal with a situation at the bar and I didn’t know where you were, I couldn’t see you in the crowd-”

He was still ranting angrily, barely stopping for punctuation or breath. Oscar couldn’t focus on any of the words he was saying when they were so close, enough that he could smell his aftershave again. The cigarette smoke was stronger and muskier than before and it made jolts travel up his spine. He let out a shivering breath.

“-and I’m left twiddling my thumbs, you could have at least said something before you went off on your own! Like you always do! You always do this, goddamnit. Hell, I fuckin’ flat-out told you we needed to stick together, but do you listen to me? No, you-”

Oscar moved into Charlie’s space slowly and pressed himself up against him. The argument that was still forming in Charlie’s mouth tapered off. “You never…” Their lips were just close enough to share breath. “...listen to me…” Not close enough to touch.

That was going to have to change. “You’re talking too much,” Oscar murmured. He grabbed him by the tie just as Charlie dug his fingers into his hips, and both inhaled deeply into the crushing kiss. They gasped for air whenever they managed to break apart, lips sucking at the marks left behind by teeth. Oscar backed him up against the door of the janitor’s closet, Charlie’s hand scrabbled at the handle and they tumbled through the open door, Oscar practically lunging after him. The door slammed closed behind them, re-opening just long enough for a hand to emerge and throw a loose tie around the handle.

Chapter Text

Oscar shoved a couple of brooms and mops out of the way and backed him up against the farthest part of the interior of the closet, kissing and nuzzling the sides of his jaw. They ripped off each other’s jackets and Charlie leaned on one of the lower shelves, his long legs wrapped around the backs of Oscar’s calves. “Thought I was pretty clear last time about how we couldn’t do this again.” He gasped when teeth and the tip of Oscar’s tongue brushed against the scar on his throat.

“You can stop me anytime,” Oscar mumbled against the rough shadow of his beard.

“You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, when things go back to normal?”

Oscar snorted softly and licked him again. “Things are never going to go back to the way they were.” Their belt buckles clanged together, and the hand sneaking into his pants suddenly hesitated. The front of Oscar’s expensive trousers wasn’t as tight as he thought it would be, even as eager as he was.

“Wait, don’t go.” Charlie was starting to pull away, and Oscar dug his fingers into the lapels of his coat to pull him in closer. He could feel the blood that should have been rushing below his belt go to warm his face instead.

“I’d rather us both be equally interested.”

“I am, believe me.” It wasn’t for lack of trying. “I just drank too much, is all.” He loosened Charlie’s tie and ripped it off to get better access to his throat.

“Oh, so you admit it?”

Oscar grumbled against the underside of his stubbled chin. Charlie laughed a little and Oscar could feel it rumble through him. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want ye.” Charlie hooked his legs back around him and moaned deeply at the tongue dragging its way down his throat and to his chest.

“It’s all I can think about sometimes.” Oscar took the starched collar in his teeth and tore through a couple of the top buttons. “Especially when you’re dressed like that, lord almighty. You look good enough to eat.”

Charlie laughed again and grabbed his ass with both hands, pulling their hips to grind together. It made Oscar lift up his head from where he was kissing on his chest and gasp against his chin. Their lips caught again and they breathed together, inhaling and exhaling through the kiss. It was making Oscar more light-headed and giddy than a cocktail could ever do for him, and Charlie broke away with a little humming moan. “I should be the one saying that. Do you even know how good you make those threads look? A suit’s only as handsome as the man filling it out.” 

Oscar dipped his head back into the hollow of Charlie’s shoulder, his face heating even more at the compliment. “You don’t need to woo me with sweet words like that, I…I want…” He said it almost in a whisper against the soft skin.

“Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.” 

That made a laugh burst out of Oscar. It was more than he had done in weeks. “Alright, Benedick. I’ll stop thy mouth.” He buried his laughter into the torn collar.

“Who says I’m not Beatrice?”

“Your words aren’t sharp enough to stab.” I would live in your heart and die in your lap if I could, though.

That made Charlie snort, and Oscar glanced up to see him looking down with a soft expression. “What do you want, sweetheart?” The sound of his voice vibrated pleasantly against Oscar’s mouth, like the bubbles from the champagne that had danced on his tongue.

Oscar put his mouth back on his chest where he had kissed before and spoke against his collarbone in a low voice. “I want you to fuck me.” 

“Figured that’s what we were doing already.” Charlie ran his fingers through Oscar’s hair while he kissed and nuzzled. “Unless you’re talking about something a little more illegal, huh?”

Oscar let the question hang in the air, and enjoyed the difference of rumbling through Charlie’s chest as opposed to his throat.

“You ever done anything like that before?”

Oscar shook his head slightly and yelped when Charlie suddenly threw his arms around him, turning him around and pressing him against the shelves hard enough to knock over a few spray bottles. “Nothing like this, huh?”

If he weren’t drunk, that would have done Oscar in by now. He let out an aching noise and reached back to bring Charlie even closer, rolling his hips to let his pants slip down to his knees. Charlie took the incentive and bent him over.  “It can be pretty intense, especially for first-timers. But some guys like a bit of rough trade. Is that what you want?” Charlie accentuated the last words with hard, short thrusts. His hands slinked down Oscar’s thighs, unsnapping the shirt garters with slow, deliberate flicks.

“Oh God, I want anything you’ll give me.”

“Mmm.” He bent down and pressed himself up against his back, and Oscar could feel the rumble of his voice vibrate through him. “Feels kinda like you’ve lost some weight.” His kisses were sweet and soft against the back of Oscar’s neck.

Long, attractive fingers sneaked into the front of his underwear, stroking gently in comparison to the grinding up between Oscar’s thighs and ass. Oscar’s imagination filled with filth with what those fingers could do. “That’s…that’s good, I could stand to…lose a few pounds.” He breathed hard in between his words. Charlie hummed something that sounded almost disgruntled. “Hmm, dunno if I agree with that.” He stroked him again, more firmly this time. Oscar twitched in spite of the alcohol still running hot in his blood, and he nearly cried out when a thumb brushed roughly over the head of his cock. Charlie’s voice puffed through his hair where he was kissing. “Keep talking, I wanna hear about what you like.”

“Anything, you can do anything you want to me. What do you want? I’ll do it.” Oscar couldn’t stop himself from babbling. He was still only half-hard in Charlie’s slowly stroking hand, but the rest of his body felt like jolts of electricity were running through his veins.

“What do I want?” The hot breath at his hairline quickened and moved to his ear. “I wanna make you feel good. Goddamn, I think I could get off on just making you feel good.”

“Tell me, tell me what you’d do to me. I want to hear all of it.”

Charlie kissed the soft spot behind Oscar’s ear and kept his mouth there when he spoke. “I wanna take my time, go nice and slow.” The hand digging into Oscar’s hip moved upwards, and looped around the top of his waist. The other still stroked him, less rhythmic now. “I’d use my fingers and something slick, open you up for a long, long time.” His hips thrust harder on certain words than others, making Oscar’s cock thrust through where Charlie’s hand was still circled around him. Pleasure sparked through the tops of Oscar’s thighs and groin, nearly enough to drive him insane. “If I get something edible like shortening or butter I could even use my tongue too. I could do that all night.” Oscar made a shameless sound and nearly melted to the ground. The mouth against his ear curved into a smile. “That got you going, huh?”

“For the love of God, don’t stop.”

“Or maybe I want you to fuck me first.” Charlie was starting to sound out of breath, and his cock was slicker where it rubbed up against the back of Oscar’s thighs. “Yeah, I’d sit on your lap and ride you hard, put you away wet. I wanna see what you look like when you finish inside me.”

That was too much. Oscar could tell by the moans on the edge of each breath that Charlie was nearly done, and he’d spent the past week craving him too much to let it end without a taste. He grabbed the shelf he was pressed up against and shoved him to the side wall of the closet. Charlie looked confused and almost upset until Oscar went to his knees on the dirty floor in front of him. It hurt, enough to feel through the haze of alcohol, but that was a problem for the morning.

The ache went to the back of his mind when he took a long, lingering lick of the dripping head and Charlie yelped out a sound that sounded like he’d been struck. Open-mouth moans and breaths spilled out of his mouth while Oscar’s lips pressed to the underside of his cock. Oscar dragged his hand along the length and kissed the tip, letting his lips slide it into his mouth with one smooth movement.

The pain in his knees was worth it to see the look on Charlie’s face and hear the harsh, colorful phrases pulled out of his mouth by Oscar’s tongue. He watched him for a moment, enjoying the show before closing his eyes and really savoring him.

Charlie’s moans grew higher in pitch and he gripped Oscar’s hair. Oscar could feel him trying not to pull too hard, and he entwined their fingers together to make Charlie tighten the grip on his scalp. You can’t hurt me. You never would. Oscar sat back on his heels and opened his mouth wide to let him in as far as he could go. Charlie made a strangled sound behind tightening lips, and it wasn’t long before bitterness flooded the back of Oscar’s tongue. He coughed and swallowed as much as he could. Charlie stared down at him and his chest heaved.

“You…goddamn, that was…you’re really-” His ears were bright red, and he looked down at Oscar like he had hung the moon. It was better than any drink he’d ever had. 

Oscar let him twitch for a moment on his tongue before carefully taking him out of his mouth. He kissed the insides of his thighs until Charlie started to slide down the wall, and he dropped down with an unceremonial thud, draping his hands over Oscar’s shoulders.

“Sorry for being unprofessional again,” said Oscar, laying his head over Charlie’s shoulder and placing his hand over his heart. He was getting better at telling these gentle lies.

Long legs wrapped around his waist and little kisses lined the side of his cheek. He tilted his head so Charlie could keep going towards his ear. “I’ll be honest, after everything that’s happened…” Charlie stopped kissing to trail off. “I’m rethinking some priorities.” He resumed the kisses, going from pecking at Oscar’s cheekbone to nibbling his earlobe.

Oscar contemplated what he meant. It was quiet for a minute and they caught their breath together.

“So you really haven’t ever, y’know. Knelt at the altar?” Charlie laughed even as he winced when Oscar tweaked his ear.

“Do -not- call it that.”

“I was trying not to be vulgar. Would you rather I say fucked up the ass?”

“Yes! At least that won’t make me think of communion when I do it.” Oscar shook his head at him before laying it back on his shoulder. “Wicked man.”

“So it’s a ‘when’, not an ‘if’.” Oscar looked up to see him giving an over-the-top sultry look, waggling his eyebrows and batting his lashes.

He got up in Charlie’s face, their noses brushing up against each other. “Promise?” Oscar pitched his voice low and hungry, and Charlie’s grin began to fade into something more intense. His heart underneath Oscar’s hand began to beat faster.

A series of loud knocks and a booming voice at the door made them both startle. “Knock off the hanky-panky already. Boss wants to talk to ya.” They scrambled to their feet and zipped their flies, buckled each other’s belts and tucked in their wrinkled shirts as best they could. Charlie opened the door slowly and Oscar snatched his tie off the handle, wiping his mouth with it briefly before tucking it in the back pocket of his pants.

A tall, stern-faced woman in a formal suit glanced between the two of them with a pointed look and jerked her head towards the stairs. “Follow me. I’d say get cleaned up, but I was told to get youse upstairs pronto.”

They trailed behind her sheepishly, like schoolboys being led to detention. Oscar’s face felt almost feverish with embarrassment. He sneaked a look to his side and had to stifle a laugh. Charlie’s ears had gone an even deeper shade of red that creeped along the sides of his cheekbones. He pressed his lips tight together to keep from smiling at the thought of Charlie as a teenager, all reddened ears and gangly limbs. I wish I’d known you then, he thought, not for the first time. He never could have dreamed of getting into a situation like this as a boy, at least not in a way that didn’t end in blood or tears. A finger poked him hard in the ribs and he nearly burst out laughing, saving himself at the last minute with a whoosh of exhaled breath. Oscar was about to jab him back even harder when he saw the familiar half-sided grin on Charlie’s face, and knew he was thinking the same.

A few flights up brought them to a large office. A strange symbol carved in ivory was fixed to the door, an image that made Oscar’s teeth itch and eyes water. The bouncer closed the door behind them and they turned to see a leather chair turned with its back to a large desk. A hand with a lit cigar was just visible from the side of the chair. “I oughta toss you out for allowing the likes of Artemisia Lambert back into my club, but-” The chair squeaked as it turned around. A woman with short hair wore an expensive, pin-striped suit, and she put the cigar in her mouth to glare at them over the lit end. “You’ve got bigger problems to worry about right now. Have a seat.” She pointed to the folding chairs in front of her desk. They sat down meekly and Oscar elbowed Charlie. “I knew she was up to no good,” he hissed. Charlie frowned at him briefly before turning towards the desk. “What exactly did she do?”

“That’s a very long list, and one we don’t have time to get into right now.” She opened a drawer underneath the desk, taking out something small and wooden. It resembled a plain carved door, with a little brass knob and hinges on the side. “I’ve been instructed to give you a gift.”

Oscar could feel Charlie tense beside him. “What for? I don’t have a birthday coming up any time soon.”

“And Christmas is nearly three months away.” Hearing the wary tone in Charlie’s voice made Oscar be on high alert as well.

The woman placed the cigar in her ashtray and contemplated the small door. “If you want any chance of getting ahead of Sawney, you’ll stop looking the horse in the mouth.”

A rush of fear mingled with fury, and before he could stop himself Oscar leapt out of his seat and slammed his hand on top of the desk. “Are you helping him?!”

She calmly put her spats up on top of the desk in front of his hand, crossing her legs and looking at him placidly. “You could try shouting a little louder, see where that gets you.” The office door cracked open, and before the bouncer could speak the woman waved her away. With the click of the door shutting Charlie put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Come on, sit back down.” Oscar resisted slightly, then relented, letting Charlie push him back down into his seat. Charlie kept his hand on his back for a moment before turning to the desk. “Can’t say I’m not feeling the same way as my partner. You expect us just to take your little trinket and, what? Trust you?”

“You’ll have to, if you want to stop him.” She picked up the cigar and dipped some of the ash into the tray. “I’m not one of his puppets, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh, easy to say. Especially coming from a cultist.”

Oscar shot looks between the two of them. Charlie’s jaw was set tight. “A cultist? How do you know that?”

“That sigil on the door.” Charlie jerked his head behind them. “You can’t just buy that sort of thing off the street. That’s a hefty protection ward.”

“I can’t give you any proof other than my word. A promise of good faith from boss Sinclair,” she gestured to herself with her cigar, “would be enough for most folks around these parts, even with Al up the river. But you’re out-of-towners, so I won’t take it personally.” Sinclair set her feet down from the desk. Her flat, calm expression was starting to be tinged with impatience. “I haven’t got all night. Take it or leave it, boys.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Charlie put out his hand. “Answer a few questions first, alright?”

The boss sighed and put the door face down on the desk again, and took a drag from her cigar. “Make it quick.” Wisps of smoke curled from her lips.

“First, just who the hell is this guy? Where did he come from?”

She turned her dark eyes towards Oscar. It was only a brief glance, but enough to chill him to the bone. He tried not to react, and Charlie didn’t seem to notice. 

“A traveler. Not from this existence, and not entirely human any more, but still mortal. He leaves nothing but madness and destruction in his wake.”

“What does he want?” Oscar’s voice trembled. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Charlie staring at him with a worried look on his face, and he kept his eyes forward.

Sinclair smiled, thin and joyless. “The end of all things. Final judgement, armageddon made manifest, so on and so forth. How do you not-” She glanced between the two of them. A light of some realization flickered across her face. “You don’t even know how to use this, do you?” She gestured to the door. The two stayed silent and sullen, and Sinclair snorted to herself. “You boys are up shit creek without a paddle, huh. Didn’t even have a boat until now.” Her expression softened slightly, and she shook her head. “I didn’t think you’d be so green. All right, pay attention. This door allows you to travel within the fabric of our reality. The one who holds it need only think of the location they want to go, open the hinge, and step through.”

The portal in the sawmill flashed in Oscar’s memory, how Sawney had seemingly stepped out of thin air. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly at the image of his painted mask staring up at him through the rafters. “He has one too! So you are helping him.”

“He appealed to my boss for the door. I didn’t get a say in it.”

Charlie laughed bitterly. “So Capone’s in on the whole shebang. I never thought he’d be the type to team up with a guy like that.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Sinclair stared at them unblinking with coal-dark eyes. Oscar had to turn away from her gaze, and he could feel Charlie squirm under her scrutiny.

“We both answer to the All-in-One.” Her tone hadn’t changed, but there was a reverberation of power in her voice now. “Not to Sawney, and not to the Dark Stalker.” The lights dimmed slightly and broke the oppressive silence with crackling electricity.

The hair on the back of Oscar’s neck prickled, and he looked over at Charlie’s grim face. “Have you heard of either of them before?”

“Just in whispers.” The lights returned to their normal brightness, and the tendrils of shadows growing long and sinister around them crept back to the corners of the room. Sinclair continued as though nothing had happened. “As for Sawney and his followers, all I know is he’s been tearing through as many worlds as he can. Opening huge rips in the fabric of reality, as many as he can get. No rhyme or reason to the madness.”

“Why?” Oscar desperately tried to keep the waver out of his voice, but the panic was starting to close up his throat. “Why is he doing all this?”

“To help something unimaginable come through.” Sinclair shrugged. “Anything else beyond that is above my pay grade. You’ll have to ask Al about it.”

“Why should we trust either of you?”

“Especially since it seems like your, uh…real boss is helping him out, giving him a door too.”

For the first time Sinclair hesitated and looked uncertain. “I’ve never questioned the wisdom it’s imparted. I get directives from Al about what to do, where to go, who gets what. I’m a middleman, I don’t talk to the boss directly.” Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “Until tonight, when I got a direct line from the All-Encompassing One saying to give you two a leg up. You got any idea how fuckin’ unsettling that was?”

She laughed, a genuine sound that made them laugh a little along with her, and the tension in the room lessened slightly. Oscar glanced at Charlie, who shrugged. Something said before struck Oscar like a bolt of lightning. “Wait, you said we need to ask Capone? How exactly are we supposed to do that?”

She gestured to the door in her hand.

“Oh boy.” Charlie sounded very tired. “You want us to break him out of prison.”

“Absolutely not!”

The boss picked back up her cigar and waved her hand, trails of smoke following through her fingers. “Nah, you misunderstand. Al’s exactly where he wants to be, you just need to get in there to talk to him.”

“He wants to be in prison?” asked Oscar suspiciously.

“He set himself up, supposedly to get put somewhere untouchable. All sorts of unsavory characters have been after our vaults for a while now, but Sawney’s been a lot more aggressive as of late. Part of the reason why Lambert is banned here.”

Oscar turned with a glare towards Charlie. “She’s still working with him!”

Charlie kept his eyes on the ground, uncertain. “I really, really hope that’s not the case. Goddamnit, Missy.”

“I can’t say for sure other than she’s got very sticky fingers, and she’s certainly been trying hard to get behind the scenes recently.” Sinclair raised an eyebrow and spoke deadpan. “She cute, but she ain’t that cute.”

“I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

“We don’t know anything for sure at this point.” Charlie didn’t sound very convinced of himself.

“She even tried to split us up!”

“That was for something unrelated, but…” Charlie trailed off. “I’ll admit, her timing was a little too convenient. Speaking of, if you got a list of banned names going for your club, be sure to put a guy named Philip Shaw on it.”

Oscar’s anger fizzled slightly to curiosity. “What’s he got to do with Lambert?”

“She saw him serve up a mickey finn special. I was about to give him a piece of my mind when you went off gallivanting behind the curtain.”

Before Oscar could retort the boss nodded and stood. “Thanks for the tip, I’ll take out the garbage. I always do.” She offered the door to them again. “Well?”

Oscar reached for the door and hesitated when Charlie didn’t move. “How exactly does this thing work again?”

“Simple. Just think of the place you want to go, and open the door.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, you want to have a clear head when you think of the place. If you’re feeling out of sorts or got too many thoughts running around at once, there’s no telling where you’ll end up. And it only goes to places, not individual people. Knew a guy who couldn’t stop daydreaming about his fella when he used it, wound up stuck in a dream world we could never get him out of.” Charlie was reaching for the small door as she spoke, but stopped cold at the last words. Fear flashed across his face and Oscar took it instead. “So what does Capone have that everyone wants so badly?”

“It’s got to do with something Al calls the heartstone.” Oscar glanced at Charlie with questioning eyes. He shrugged again, and the boss frowned in thought. “I’ll be honest, I’ve been worried ever since he set this whole thing up. Our protection would keep Sawney from going to the prison directly, but it wouldn’t stop the guy from throwing a couple of his zealots into a prison line-up, make ‘em wait it out so they can shiv Al in his sleep like the cowards they are. I want someone to make sure none of those creeps have gotten to him yet.”

“Protection? Like your sigil?”

Sinclair nodded. “It hasn’t stopped Sawney from getting into the city, but it does put a stop to any advantage he has on our turf. You’ll be able to get to the general area of the prison, but you can’t get too close to Al with it. You’ll need to do some exploring.”

Oscar whipped his head up suddenly from where he was looking down at the door braced between his knees. “It doesn’t stop Sawney from coming here? Does he just show up here randomly, unannounced?”

The boss nodded, much more calmly than Oscar was feeling. “We’ve exchanged our form of parley here. He just can’t show up in the club without my say-so, and he has to use the front door like a normal person.”

The two exchanged a worried look, and Oscar handed the door for Charlie to inspect. He took it gingerly and held it with the tips of his fingers like it was an animal ready to bite him. “So why us? You seem to know a hell of a lot more than we do. If Capone’s in trouble, why didn’t your boss give this to you?”

“I’m not the one who’s been chosen to save the world.” Sinclair sounded relieved she wasn’t in their position. “I’ve got a club to run, and like I said, you’ll have to ask Al all about it. And to get to where he is, you’ll need something that’ll get you into a place that’s nearly impossible to get into, or out of.”

“Which is?”

The boss took a drag off her cigar. It had burned low, but still had enough for her to get a mouthful of smoke. She let out several rings of smoke slowly before speaking. “New joint off the coast of San Francisco they just got set up. They call it Alcatraz.”