(no subject)
Title: What You Deserve
Fandom: Baccano!
Characters/Pairings: Firo, Luck, maybe Luck/Firo
Rating: PG
Genre: General
A/N: This is my best friend's Christmas Present actually, but she won't know about it if I put it up here (I hope).
Summary: Luck and Firo take care of a man both agree no longer deserves to live
It wasn’t very often that the Martillos and Gandors had to get together for business.
They got together all the time for fun, since Luck and Firo were on such good terms, but most of the time they tried not to get all the mafia work mixed up with their pleasure. But standing behind the large mahogany desk at the newest Gandor House was something or an exception. And it was the newest Gandor House because the last one had been burned down by the man who happened to be cowering in front of them.
“I’m sorry! I had no idea it was your house Mr. Gandor!” the man insisted, obviously terrified. He had ever right to be when Luck Gandor was staring angrily at him.
“What exactly where you trying to do?” Firo asked calmly, his hand coming up to push back his hat and his eyes flickering in the fireplace’s light. Although it didn’t seem like it, anger that had been simmering since he learned of the fire was bubbling up.
“I didn’t know! I’m sorry!” the man blubbered pathetically.
“I hope you know that you’ll be punished for this,” Luck assured icily. “My brother is at your home right now looking getting the rest of your friends so they might join you. We wouldn’t want them to miss out on all the fun.”
The pathetic man, since he didn’t deserve any name other than that, started sobbing into his hands. Firo’s eyebrows raised but Luck looked on without reacting.
“Aren’t you a Martillo?” the man asked suddenly, wiping at his streaming eyes with a fist.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing here then? What have I done to you?”
Luck flinched slightly, his arm that had been hidden from sight lifting to his side. Although his immortality gave him the ability to heal all of the burns he’s received, he swore that he could sometimes feel pain where he’d been hurt. Firo noticed his unconscious motion and nodded slightly at it as if it answered the question. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t stick up to help his friends?
The pathetic man had stopped crying for good (finally) and Luck continued to look at him with obvious contempt. They could hear footsteps coming towards them, many footsteps. A few moments later Berga opened the door and lead a few more men in. If the pathetic man’s expression was any judge, they were his accomplices.
“Found them hiding,” Berga informed the two young men gruffly. A portion of his face was covered in clean bandages, more for show than anything else. It would be a bit suspicious if they’d all made it out unharmed.
“We were not hiding,” one of the men spat. “You broke into our home.”
“Not hiding very well then,” Berga amended.
Another one of the pathetic man’s friends was glaring at Luck and Firo through swollen eyes. He paused to spit at their feet, leaving a damp spot on the rug near Firo’s left shoe.
“I should-” Luck began angrily, stepping forward threateningly. He looked like he really did want to drop his years of practiced passive-aggression in that moment and hit someone but Firo grabbed his arm in warning.
The affect was instantaneous. Luck stepped back at once, seeming to calm down slightly. The hand on his arm slid down to intertwine with his fingers slowly.
“We best get these boys ready,’ Firo reminded him with a slight smirk, mouth set a little cruelly as he thought of the punishment they very much deserved.
“Yes,” Luck agreed, “After all, they are our entertainment for the night.”
Berga cracked his neck, turning it to both sides with a sickening noise. With a mean grin of his own, he escorted the pathetic men to their doom.
Fandom: Baccano!
Characters/Pairings: Firo, Luck, maybe Luck/Firo
Rating: PG
Genre: General
A/N: This is my best friend's Christmas Present actually, but she won't know about it if I put it up here (I hope).
Summary: Luck and Firo take care of a man both agree no longer deserves to live
It wasn’t very often that the Martillos and Gandors had to get together for business.
They got together all the time for fun, since Luck and Firo were on such good terms, but most of the time they tried not to get all the mafia work mixed up with their pleasure. But standing behind the large mahogany desk at the newest Gandor House was something or an exception. And it was the newest Gandor House because the last one had been burned down by the man who happened to be cowering in front of them.
“I’m sorry! I had no idea it was your house Mr. Gandor!” the man insisted, obviously terrified. He had ever right to be when Luck Gandor was staring angrily at him.
“What exactly where you trying to do?” Firo asked calmly, his hand coming up to push back his hat and his eyes flickering in the fireplace’s light. Although it didn’t seem like it, anger that had been simmering since he learned of the fire was bubbling up.
“I didn’t know! I’m sorry!” the man blubbered pathetically.
“I hope you know that you’ll be punished for this,” Luck assured icily. “My brother is at your home right now looking getting the rest of your friends so they might join you. We wouldn’t want them to miss out on all the fun.”
The pathetic man, since he didn’t deserve any name other than that, started sobbing into his hands. Firo’s eyebrows raised but Luck looked on without reacting.
“Aren’t you a Martillo?” the man asked suddenly, wiping at his streaming eyes with a fist.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing here then? What have I done to you?”
Luck flinched slightly, his arm that had been hidden from sight lifting to his side. Although his immortality gave him the ability to heal all of the burns he’s received, he swore that he could sometimes feel pain where he’d been hurt. Firo noticed his unconscious motion and nodded slightly at it as if it answered the question. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t stick up to help his friends?
The pathetic man had stopped crying for good (finally) and Luck continued to look at him with obvious contempt. They could hear footsteps coming towards them, many footsteps. A few moments later Berga opened the door and lead a few more men in. If the pathetic man’s expression was any judge, they were his accomplices.
“Found them hiding,” Berga informed the two young men gruffly. A portion of his face was covered in clean bandages, more for show than anything else. It would be a bit suspicious if they’d all made it out unharmed.
“We were not hiding,” one of the men spat. “You broke into our home.”
“Not hiding very well then,” Berga amended.
Another one of the pathetic man’s friends was glaring at Luck and Firo through swollen eyes. He paused to spit at their feet, leaving a damp spot on the rug near Firo’s left shoe.
“I should-” Luck began angrily, stepping forward threateningly. He looked like he really did want to drop his years of practiced passive-aggression in that moment and hit someone but Firo grabbed his arm in warning.
The affect was instantaneous. Luck stepped back at once, seeming to calm down slightly. The hand on his arm slid down to intertwine with his fingers slowly.
“We best get these boys ready,’ Firo reminded him with a slight smirk, mouth set a little cruelly as he thought of the punishment they very much deserved.
“Yes,” Luck agreed, “After all, they are our entertainment for the night.”
Berga cracked his neck, turning it to both sides with a sickening noise. With a mean grin of his own, he escorted the pathetic men to their doom.