Nicholas: This is the product of me talking to AmandaNut about stupid shit. I then got to talking about my fic "When Marco's Bored" and saying all the things I would have put in there, and then I started fantasizing about this fic you are probably about to read. She gave me a whole bunch of ideas for this, so I just ended up writing it. Most of the insults were her idea and that thing in "When Marco's Bored" about the basilisk, that was her idea too. Hope you like. By the by, Amanda is NOT my girlfriend.
Disclaimer: Don't own it! Didn't I say that last time? And the time before that? And the time before that!
Rating: M…slashiness!…cruel violence…cursing, of course.
Marco's Vices
"Hey, can I have a beer?" Marco walked into the living with a bored expression. His father didn't even acknowledge him. With a sigh, Marco went to the fridge and stole a beer anyway. He doubted his father would even notice.
"What the fuck are you doin' drinking?"
Ah, there's a reaction for the first time this year. "I wanna drink," Marco stated flatly. "Not like you care anyway…bastard." The last word was whispered as he walked to his bedroom. It was not the best thing for his father to overhear. Marco ignored a loud yell from his father and opened his door. An empty beer bottle flew across the room and shattered on the wall next to Marco's head.
"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, you worthless piece of shit!"
"Nice miss, you fuckin' moron." The first hint Marco got to run was when his father actually detached his fat ass from the slick leather seat and went storming after him. "Oh shit!" He threw himself head first into his small bedroom and slammed the door behind him, just before his father slammed into the wood. Marco planted his feet on the floor and pressed his back against the door, so that his father couldn't get it open.
"Open this fucking door, shithead!" A fat fist pounded against the wood and Marco put all of his weight against the on-coming danger…One… "You fucking got something to say, you face me like a fucking man and say it!" Marco could feel the door actually crack from the imbalance of pressure…Two… After a beat, there was no more pounding and Marco listened carefully, his heart beating harshly in his chest. He popped of the cap off his beer bottle and took a long swig to calm his nerves…Three…
The terrifyingly calm silence lasted long enough for Marco's heart to pound quickly, four times. Then he suddenly flew forward, the shattering wood of the door following him as he stumbled across the room, slamming face-first into the wall. As he sank to the floor, he set the beer bottle down so it wouldn't spill. He barely got to his knees before his father yanked him up again from behind.
"You little cocksucking prick!" Marco felt a hand grip his hair painfully tight. His cheek pressed into the wall as he tried to get away. "Don't you ever slam the door on me, and don't you fuckin' talk to me like that again. Got that?" The fistful of hair on the back of his head threatened to rip out as Marco's father tightened his fingers roughly. "Speak up, fucker!"
Marco frantically tried to shove the man away, but his small frame was no match for his father's mass. "I wouldn't do it if you weren't such a fucking dickless son of a bitch!" His head was pulled back and then slammed full force into the wall. His nose snapped to the side with a sickening crack. As he sank to his knees, he felt warm sticky liquid ooze down his face and a torturous pain flare through his entire skull. He reached up and for some god awful reason held his bleeding nose, making the pain magnify to the point where he wanted to scream. He would have screamed if he weren't so damned full of pride that he didn't want his father to know it hurt. "Look at you," his father said, "you're fucking pathetic."
When a small gasp of breath climbed up his throat in the form a high-pitched whimper, Marco wanted to smack himself—but that would irritate his nose further, so he didn't. He turned around quickly and tried to take advantage of his father's short hesitation by moving away from the wall. A foot met his face with violent after effects. Marco glared up at his father, his lip now busted open, and spat out a bloody tooth. Both paused for a moment and Marco managed an awkward grin, despite how much it hurt. "You feel in control?" the teen muttered just loud enough to be heard. "Control this." Marco lifted his middle finger and addressed the crude gesture at the man whom he considered "father."
His father lunged at him, but Marco moved out of the way just in time and jumped up from the floor. On his way up, his knee connected sharply with his father's crotch. Then, an elbow to the back of the neck helped the man hit the floor in agony. "You ain't my father," Marco spat and ran out of the room and then out of the apartment.
Leon liked the relaxing feeling of hot water on his skin. It wasn't until he was home alone that he actually got the chance to take a long, nice shower. Now he had the chance, and he took advantage of it. The knock on the door was enough to piss him off for ruining his calm, silent time alone. His first impulse was to ignore it, but it came again, louder and a bit more violent. With a rage slowly building inside him, Leon turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before he exited the bathroom and stumbled across the hall to the door.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Leon's voice was gruff and angry. He hated opening the door when he didn't know who was on the other side.
"Hey, Leon. It's Marco."
Marco? What the hell was Marco doing here this late in the evening? Anger slowly fading to be replaced with curiosity, Leon opened the door a crack and peeked out. "What the fuck?" A fitting reaction from seeing Marco with his face replaced by a mask of blood. He opened the door wider and adjusted the towel. "What happened to you, Marco?"
The Italian was rubbing the back of his head awkwardly as he stood just outside the door. He gave a little shrug in reply and then spoke. "You think I could stay here for a little while?"
With a nod, Leon allowed him in, not hiding a stare at Marco's twisted nose. "Answer me: what happened? Who the fuck did this to you?"
Marco didn't want to answer. He walked through the hall cautiously and continued to rub his head. "I got in a fight," he said at length. That was the most believable situation. Marco often got in fights with people he knew—or even complete strangers, for that matter.
"Bullshit," Leon stated, locking the door behind him. "No one on this street that you could possibly fight with would be able to get more than two punches on you. Let alone break your nose."
"You could."
"I didn't fight you, now what the fuck happened?"
Marco leaned heavily against the wall in the living room. He'd never actually been in Leon's apartment before, so he looked around with an excuse to distract himself. Leon wasn't having it. "I don't want to talk about it, okay? Jesus!" He crossed his arms over his chest and let out an angry huff. From an impulse, he licked his lips—tasting a bit of dried blood.
Leon waved it off hopelessly and stepped past him towards the kitchen. "Look, if you're not going to tell me you can go find somewhere else to go. I mean, fuck, why didn't you go to your father's?"
"I just came from there," Marco stated indifferently. He trusted Leon to be able to do the math.
A silent pause filled the space between them and Marco looked up to see Leon with a sour face. "Don't tell me…you're dad did that to you?" His reply was a shrugged nod. "The fucker…why didn't you hit him back?"
"You think I didn't?" Marco kicked the ground lightly and looked away from Leon. "Look, I don't want to talk about it right now, but don't tell anyone. I just need somewhere to stay until he calms down. I wouldn't have run away, but he's never actually broken anything before."
"You mean he's done this before?" Leon didn't like the silence he was getting. He adjusted his towel slightly and searched the drawers around him for a hand towel. Once he found that, he dampened it in the sink "How long has this been going on, Marco?"
"Since my mom died."
"That was six years ago." Marco gave him a look that said "your point is?" Isn't that just beautiful? Leon couldn't believe how stupid Marco could be sometimes. The Italian was one of those people that made Leon curious about the laws of life. Usually, Leon would be up for anything that Marco suggested, but Leon also took it upon himself to take care of him. "You know, if you don't snap it back, your nose won't heal right."
With a contemplative gesture, Marco gently touched his face. It still felt like shit. "It hurts," he muttered quietly.
"Here, I'll do it." Leon pushed himself off the counter and walked up to him. It took a bit of coaxing, but he got Marco's hand away from his face and held his head still. With a quick movement, he twisted the stubborn nose back the way it should be.
Knives of pain shot up through Marco's face and slashed all the way through to his brain. "FUCK!!!" Marco shoved him away and covered his face. "That fuckin' hurt!"
"Yeah, well, suck it up." Marco stuck his tongue out at him, but there was a hint of a smile in his watery eyes. Leon took this as a sign that the true, light-hearted Marco was coming back. He used the damp cloth to try and wipe away the brown, crusted blood that had caked on his friend's face. Marco just gave a few responding hisses at the sting, but didn't push him away.
Once he cleaned as much off as he could, Leon tossed the hand towel into the sink. "Anyway, you want something to eat, help yourself. I should probably get dressed." He didn't actually move to go get dressed, he just stated that it would probably be a good idea.
"Do you usually walk around your house in nothing but a towel?"
"Your knock got me out of the shower," Leon snapped playfully. "Promise me something, will you? Don't let your father fuck with you anymore, okay?"
Marco felt like he'd just been stabbed in the heart, but it was strangely good. Leon cared about him. What he would have given just to have that—some one who cared. A warm feeling crept up Marco's spine, but when Leon turned away from him it disappeared. Why did it go away? Marco thought of how much he really loved Leon—as a friend…mostly, he thought. "Hey Leon." He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, but that was okay. His body did the talking of its own accord.
The second Leon had turned to face Marco, the Italian was up against him, pushing him into the counter. "What the—" Leon didn't get a chance to finish his thought. Marco kissed him hungrily, desperately on the mouth. Bobby didn't even kiss Leon on the mouth and he was his brother. Marco tugged at the towel around Leon's waist and wrapped an arm around his back.
It wouldn't end, it shouldn't end. Leon couldn't believe what Marco was doing to him. The physical aspects—touching, kissing, and holding—were all tangible concepts. The fact that Leon didn't want to push him away, and the way Marco made Leon feel was what was hard to grasp. Leon reached up and held the back of Marco's neck, deepening the kiss.
One of Leon's hands gripped the edge of the counter to brace himself up and Marco moved impossibly closer to him, pressing his chest against Leon's. He felt Marco's tongue in his mouth and he moaned gently. His hand wandered into Marco's hair and touched a sore spot on the back of the Italian's head. Marco broke the kiss and cursed quietly.
"I'm sorry," Leon started uncertainly, but Marco didn't care. He was on him again, pushing against Leon until he was stretching backward over the counter. Marco gripped the towel even tighter and dug his nails into Leon's bare back. Involuntary noises escaped Leon's throat as he accidentally slipped slightly sideways on the counter. Marco pulled his arm tighter around his mate and actually lowered Leon to the floor.
It was no longer just a kiss. It was many, one after the other, and Leon felt his heart pound in his head. Marco released his towel and gripped Leon's hand, pressing it to the floor by Leon's head. The sting that Marco had felt from the cut on his lip went away when he put pressure on it.
Leon pulled his head away so he could breathe again and Marco sucked on his chin, then his throat, then his collarbone. Marco's breath was coming in pants that brushed and tickled Leon's skin. "Marco…" Leon muttered, his voice airy and thin. The towel was slowly getting looser and looser and finally Marco just pulled it open.
Marco's lips returned to Leon's for a moment and Leon tugged Marco's T-shirt sharply. The kiss broke quickly as Marco pulled his shirt over his head. Leon's hand was free now—free to roam Marco's skin. There were bruises. There were more bruises than there should have been and Leon hated that. He wished he didn't know where the bruises came from. He had never had a father, and he didn't want that to be his only impression of what a father was.
It wasn't as hard as Leon would have thought—the religious part of him would have thought. It wasn't hard to let Marco kiss him, to kiss back. It wasn't hard to have Marco hold him, bite him, taste him. It wasn't hard to undo Marco's belt buckle and then his jeans. Marco made it easy. In a way, Marco controlled every move Leon made right then.
"Marco, what are we doing?" It was a whisper, and it didn't even take away from the feeling or the actions. Marco just grunted in reply, pushing himself down on Leon, grinding their hips together suddenly. Leon let out a relatively loud groan as heat surged through ever nook and cranny of his body. Marco's pants were finally undone and fell down his hips as the Italian pulled Leon's legs up around his back.
Marco stood in the shower, letting the almost freezing cold water run over him. He was used to cold showers. Running fingers through his hair, he was careful of the tender spot from where his father had almost ripped his hair out. He tongued the spot in him mouth where there used to be a tooth and sighed quietly. Life sucks, get a fucking helmet. Suddenly, he became aware of the bathroom door opening and Leon coming in, probably dressed by now.
They didn't say anything to each other for the longest time. Leon just started to wash his face and brush his teeth, but he was just searching for an excuse to stay in the room. The sound of the water falling off of Marco's body wasn't ignored at all. Leon thought he could see it running across his friend's pale skin. The image rested nicely in his mind for a moment.
In the same second that Marco shut the water off, there was a knock on the front door. Leon spat out toothpaste and then looked up toward the living room. Marco peeked around the shower curtain apprehensively. Sensing a question from the Italian, Leon spoke quietly. "Ma wouldn't knock."
"What if it's him?" No need to say who "him" was referring to. Leon handed Marco a towel and wiped his mouth on his shirt. "You aren't going to tell him I'm here, are you?" Marco quickly stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel tightly around his waist. He followed Leon a few steps until he stood at the door to the bathroom and could see clear down the dark hall to the door.
Fear. Leon could hear it in his friend's voice and it pissed him off. Anger was simmering all the way to the tips of Leon's fingers as he crossed the hall and eventually reached for the doorknob. He cracked it open slightly and looked out. He recognized the man immediately by Marco's pale skin and dark hair. "Mr. Vindetti?"
"You're Leon, right?" A slight drunken slur hung in the words as they tumbled haphazardly from the man's mouth. The sound of it made Marco wince and retreat back behind the bathroom door. "You seen my son tonight? You're one of his friends."
Leon held himself back from punching this guy's face in. He was only just in his teens and would be no match for a grown man—a huge, drunk, grown man. "Yeah, I seen him. Why are you looking for him?"
"Little bastard ran off earlier. I can't find him so I thought I'd check here. He here?"
Marco's heart was pounding again, and he hated himself for being so pathetic. That man shouldn't have scared him so much! Marco listened carefully for Leon's reply. "Yeah, he's here." A loud rush filled Marco's head, blocking out sound for a moment. What the fuck was Leon doing?
"Then send his ass out here. I'm taking him home." It wasn't a request, but a demand. Leon thought how rude it sounded, and his anger rose once more.
He let the door open just a bit wider, but stood in the way, barring the man's entrance. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Marco standing just halfway out of the bathroom door. A steam whistle rang in his head that slowly let the scalding hot anger out. Too slowly. "If he wants to go with you, he can go. If not, leave him the fuck alone." He turned back to the man outside his apartment with a stern face that looked more like a father to a son than a teenager to a drunk man.
"Watch your mouth kid, or I'll tell your mother."
"I learned it from my ma," Leon shot back. "Marco get out here!" Marco didn't want to. No fucking way was he going out there. Had Leon lost his mind? "Marco!" Yeah, he was pretty much screwed. Marco obediently went out into the hallway, but stayed far away from the door. "I don't think he wants to go with you, pal."
Leon was handling this relatively well, and Marco appreciated it. The thing he didn't like was that he was standing in the hallway in nothing but a towel under the intense glare of his father. If he didn't know exactly what would happen as consequence, he would have grabbed his clothes and ran out, just to make that glare go away. "Marco, get out here now," Mr. Vindetti went on sharply.
"No," Marco stated firmly.
Leon began to close the door, but Mr. Vindetti slammed a fist against it and held it open. "Marco, get your sorry ass out here now!"
"I'll call the police if you don't get away from my fucking door right now." Leon to the rescue. Neither man nor child moved in the moment that followed. "See those bruises on Marco? I swear to god if you give him anymore, I'm gonna hunt your sorry ass down and I'll fucking kill you. Don't think I don't have the connections to get a job like that done. Get the fuck away from my door."
Marco's father stepped back, obviously intimidated by the kid in the doorway. One didn't underestimate teens these days. They had friends in high places. Just as Leon was about to close the door Marco spoke up again. "Oh, and Dad! Fuck you!"
With a smile, Leon slammed the door and walked back over to Marco. "See, how hard was that?" he asked, but Marco glared at him. "Oh, lighten up. He's gone now. I don't think he'd do something stupid like break in." Marco nodded indifferently and went back into the bathroom. "What?"
"Nothin," Marco said quietly, "you just scared the bejesus outta me."
Leon leaned against the doorframe to the toilet room and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Sorry, but I wanted you to stand up to him. I wouldn't have let him actually come in, you know that."
"Yeah…" Marco was collecting his clothes. "Thanks, I really mean it." He heard Leon walk up behind him. As Marco straightened his back—bundle of clothes in his arms—Leon wrapped his arms around the Italian's shoulders. Marco flinched only slightly at the contact.
Leon brushed his fingers across a greenish-yellow mark that decorated Marco's shoulder. "Don't keep secrets, Marco," he muttered in his friend's ear. "You shouldn't be alone with your vices. They'll eat you whole."