some crüe shit

mostly mötley crüe slash fanfiction || sometimes guns n' roses, megadeth and other classic rock bands || main blog: @arnold-layne || Rockfic: Nikki Dexter || accepting oneshot requests or headcanons || Masterlist || Ficbook

[vincess-princess]

Hello.

Are you still active through this medium?

Hey

My life got very stressful and very busy the last couple months, no time left for writing at all, let alone continuing my ongoing fics

I do try to write a bit now and then, because i just can’t not write, but it’s an original wip atm

I hope i’ll be able to come back to crue fanfiction and continue my fics eventually, when life stops being a living hell, but yknow. idk when that happens

Sorry for inactivity, it’s not because i lost interest in the fandom or anything, i swear

[hippiewithahaircut]

we, the psychos fanart @arnold-layne 😇😇

this is inspired by Vince and Tommy’s first meeting in the lunchroom :))

[arnold-layne]

HOLY SHIT???? His eyes are just that sort of insane that i aimed for!! And the black figures all around him show so well how his world has shrunk…. ouughhh

[vincess-princess]

Hey, it's M6 hope you're good!!!! Just checking in. Also, I wanted to ask about In Darkness Shall You Be Reborn. No rush of course. Has that story been discontinued 💙

hey nice to see you still hanging around <3 don’t worry i didn’t decide to discontinue pirates i could never. i have an Ending for this story and im gonna deliver it to you….someday. it’s just that i’ve generally been very busy&tired&depressed, so my creative energy is nearly in the negative. not just for pirates, for writing in general. sorry for making you wait for so long :(

[vincess-princess]

Where u go??

work, college, side job, depression, you know the drill :(

[vincess-princess]

not to be annoying, just wanted to say happy holidays, and also 'what is lost what is found' is adorable and my fave comfort fic. since it probably won't continue(?) may we know what ending you had in mind? or at least hints as to where it was going to go then finish? as a vinikki and tommick shipper I was rooting for both couples the whole story, however polyam or even just platonic family sunset ending would also have been lovely. ty for sharing your writing, *in my Vince voice* it's choice

aw thank u so much it's so nice to hear that your old asf fic is still making people happy <3 and sorry for such a delay, im like barely alive rn trying to get all those assignments done. regarding the ending...

tbh i had like very vague concepts of where it should go but never came up with a proper ending. i planned to show nikki's struggle with drugs and depression, him running away from home for several days, dealing with his anger issues, all of this stemming from childhood neglect and untreated depression. with vince, i planned to show the consequences of childhood sexual abuse by his dad, resulting in him whoring around looking for validation from strangers (often adults), believing that he only has worth as long as he's sexually attractive to others. with tommy, i actually remember nearly nothing of what i planned his arc to be :( something along the lines of trying to be a perfect child, people pleaser, and caring very deeply about his found family and thus constantly trying to mitigate the behavioral issues of nikki and vince? something like that. i planned for vinikki (of course) and the boys trying to start a band together and mick going back to playing guitar or something like that. honestly for my not so good mental state at the time of starting it that fic was too wholesome, and for my writing abilities - way too complex, i wouldn't have done it justice. i don't know if i'll ever come back to it, if i do i'll probably rewrite it from the start, but im definitely still not in the right place for it. still, i'm happy that what i did manage to write makes you a little bit happier :)

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 20

Word count: 5302 Warnings: violence, NON-CON, vomit A/N: we're finally here fellas. after such a long time. here comes the second sex scene. (proceed with caution)

“You’re in luck – it didn’t inflame,” Izzy said, wrapping back the bandage around Vince’s arm. “Now the shoulder… Hm, also not bad. I’m almost sure you’re gonna live.”

“Almost?”

“Well, men die of stupidest of reasons. A wave might hit the ship while you’re on pooping deck and you’ll fall overboard. Only God knows how you’ll die.”

Wrong, Vince thought grimly. He was pretty sure how he would die. From Nikki’s hands or complications of injuries he would give – or had given - him. But he didn’t tell Izzy that.

“Alright, I can safely say you’re one of the healthiest people on this ship right now, so off you go. I have many more patients to attend.”

“Anyone with something serious?”

“Bret had his knee ligaments cut. I doubt he’ll ever walk unassisted again. Dave had his hand cut off, and I don’t like the look of his stump. But that’s probably it. We got off this one very lightly.”

“We did. Thanks, man.” Vince got up from the bunk. “See you.”

The sun shone brightly on the deck, and the dried blood made the ship smell like a slaughterhouse. Not that Vince had ever been in one, but that was what he imagined a slaughterhouse would smell. A crewmate he didn’t know was washing the deck in a very leisurely fashion, his face grim. Vince should have been in his place, but Mick convinced Tommy he needed him on the galley, and Vince was very thankful. The food didn’t smell as bad, at least.

His gratitude disappeared when Vince returned to the galley and was immediately berated.

“I said, ten minutes max! You’ve been away at least half an hour!” Mick raged. “Did Stradlin conduct a full-body exam there or something?”

To be honest, Vince and Izzy did spend some time over a mug of beer, but to Vince it seemed barely five minutes long. Either Mick was way exaggerating the time he was away, or the beer really messed up Vince’s perception of time. Whatever it was, Vince didn’t want to anger Mick, who had just barely warmed up to him again.

“Sorry,” he raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. “What do you need me to do?”

“Bring plates and cutlery up on the deck while I watch the pot. We’re already late with breakfast.”

Vince had already learned, through trial and error, how to climb up onto the deck with one hand holding a stack of plates. Though it did help that they were made of tin. At first Vince was disgusted at the mere thought of eating off them, stained no matter how hard he washed them, making food taste metallic, but now he didn’t care. He was happy as long as there was food on those plates.

Pirates, seeing him line up plates on the deck, began gathering around him. There’d never been conflicts over food, because everyone got their share, but everyone wanted to get the portion from the top of the pot, where it didn’t burn and stick to the bottom. Vince, by virtue of being the one distributing, usually got his portion one of the last, so he sure understood them. But as much as Vince looked, he couldn’t see the captain and his first mate. Which was bad, because if they wouldn’t come out on deck to get their portions themselves, he would have to deliver them to the cabin, and Vince had no desire whatsoever to go there.

Soon Mick brought out the steaming hot pot of porridge, a loaf of bread and a jug of beer. Everyone got their portions. The captain and his first mate didn’t come.

The porridge tasted more metallic than usual, like someone dripped blood in it. But the color was the usual greyish beige, the thickness the same too. That was probably just a particularly shitty plate.

Mick had set aside two plates for the captain and the first mate, but didn’t yet tell Vince to go deliver them. He probably just forgot, and Vince kept nursing hope that they would come out and get their portions themselves eventually. At least until the porridge gets cold, because it was even less edible that way and was sure to piss Nikki off.

Finally Vince saw Tommy walk out of the cabin and head towards them with a springy step.

“Oh, I see breakfast is already over,” he said upon approach. “Hope you left some for us, Mick?”

“Of course I did.” Mick rolled his eyes. “I am not yet ready to walk the plank.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate. Nikki is unpleasant when hungry, but not that unpleasant.” Tommy turned to Vince. “C’mon. Help me bring Nikki the food.”

And here it was, his biggest fear. He only hoped Tommy was gonna eat with Nikki and hold him back somewhat.

Vince put a piece of bread on the edge of the plate and grabbed it with one hand and a mug of beer with the other. Tommy did the same with his portion and immediately took a sip from his mug.

“Ew, warm. Let’s go.”

They walked across the deck to the captain’s cabin, a knot of fear in Vince’s stomach growing tighter with every step. Then, when they reached the cabin, instead of knocking on the door Tommy turned to him.

“He’s still mighty pissed over Hetfield’s betrayal. So if you wanna walk out of here on your own two feet: don’t act up. Don’t look him in the eye. Don’t resist. Don’t talk back. Just do what he says, alright? You have only brushed the surface of what he’s capable of. Don’t dive deeper.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” Vince tried to spit out a laugh, to show he was not afraid, but it sounded more like a pained choke and didn’t convince Tommy in any way whatsoever. He sent Vince a sharp gaze and turned to kick the door - his hands were occupied.

Nikki opened after one kick. He looked like he had a very bad night: disheveled, his features deeper and sharper than usual, his pupils so wide they almost fully covered the irises. The draft flowing through the door carried with it a strong smell of spirits.

“Finally,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It sure took you a lot of time to fetch him, T-bone.”

“C’mon, I was away for hardly more than five minutes,” Tommy said cheerily, like it wasn’t him just warning Vince of Nikki’s awful mood. “He brought you breakfast, too. Please eat; it helps the hangover.”

Oh. Nikki didn’t send for breakfast, which incidentally included Vince. He sent for him in particular, which was way worse than Vince thought.

“Eggs don’t teach the chicken,” Nikki grumbled. Then, in a more businesslike voice, continued. “I want you to send men to scour the Metallica; I heard they’ve had a good raid recently, maybe they haven’t spent it all yet. Take anything we can sell. Also bring in Mick so he can look at the food and see what we can take. I want this ship looted to the last hold.”

“You want to sell it or drown?”

“Drown, of course. His Majesty the King will surely look for his faithful servants, and we don’t want to leave any traces.”

“Pity.” Tommy sighed. “She’s a good ship. I’ll be on my way then. Have fun, you two.”

Vince’s stomach dropped. Yeah, that was going to be exactly what he feared. Fun for Nikki, sure; for Vince? Not so much.

The door closed behind him, cutting of the light of the sun and the fresh sea air. The cabin was dark and stuffy inside, the curtain barely letting in sunlight. Everything was in disarray. What was he even doing here to make such a mess?

“Don’t just stand there! Put the food on the table!” Nikki ordered in an irritated voice. Then he looked the table over and pushed a few empty bottles and books off it to make space for the plate and the mug. Vince carefully lowered them on the table and backed off, trying to get out of Nikki’s sight. Maybe he’d just forget about him then.

Nikki sat down to eat and poked the porridge with his spoon.

“This looks like glue,” he said. “Tastes, too. Did Mick cook it?”

“Yes.”

“Weird. His cooking game is usually better than this.” Still, despite his distaste, he began eating rather hungrily. A hangover does that to a man, Vince thought.

“I’m also gonna ask him about your performance,” Nikki said suddenly. “Gotta make sure you’re earning your food and not slacking off.”

“I’m not,” Vince said carefully, rubbing at the already permanent creases on his fingers from all the dish-washing.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Nikki finished his porridge and reached for his beer. “Tell me more about how hardworking you are.”

Vince bit his lip to not let out a spiteful remark. This was a man spending the majority of his days drinking in his cabin or messing around with his first mate. Sure, maybe he slaved away earlier in life to get where he was, but now he had no right to tell Vince he wasn’t hardworking enough.

“Truth stings, huh?” Nikki grinned, spotting Vince’s changed expression. “In my opinion, you have too much free time on your hands. Mick’s got a soft spot for you – I didn’t expect that of him, but whatever - and lets you slack off, but I’m gonna put an end to this. In between working the galley you’ll also be cleaning my cabin.”

Vince clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms. It wasn’t even extra work that bothered him – it was just that it would be even harder to avoid the captain. And cleaning his cabin, constantly being watched by him, subject to whatever he wished to do at any moment in time… hell on earth.

Nikki watched him with a smug grin.

“Well, what do you say?”

“Does it matter what I have to say?” Vince said through gritted teeth. Nikki’s grin widened.

“That’s right, it doesn’t. Glad you understand that.” He rose from his chair and stepped towards Vince.

Vince stepped back before his brain could even process the act. He stared at Nikki’s feet, ready to catch the next step he would make. But Nikki didn’t, just tilted his head and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Backing away from me, huh? Don’t want me to touch you?”

A question with no right answers. Again. As usual, Vince didn’t reply, just kept staring at Nikki’s feet. He refused to look Nikki in the eyes, but not because he was guilty; he feared what he could see behind that grin, in these cold green eyes. Rage. Hate. Lust.

Nikki stepped forward. Vince stepped back.

“You’re afraid of me? You think I will hurt you?”

Of course I am. Of course you will.

“You think there’s a reason for me to hurt you? Is that because you’re guilty of something?”

Another step. Vince stepped back, words hardening in his throat, not willing to leave his mouth. He shook his head ferociously, but Nikki wasn’t convinced.

“Look at you. All shaking, staring at the floor. That’s not a look of an honest man that has nothing to hide.”

Another step. Vince backed away – and his foot met resistance. He pressed his back into the wall of the cabin. There was no way out – Nikki stood between him and the door.

“I didn’t do it.” The words finally spilled out of his mouth. “I didn’t conspire with that man, Hetfield. I’ve never met him.”

“I didn’t even say anything about Hetfield, and your first thought was him? That’s what you think you’re guilty of?”

Nikki was very close now, mere inches between them. Vince shrunk his head into his shoulders. Nikki’s breath ruffled his hair.

“No,” Vince croaked. The knot of fear in his stomach spread into his limbs, making his hands shake and his throat close up. “I just- you lashed out at me for this in the galley. So I thought-“

“You thought,” Nikki said slowly and cupped Vince’s chin gently. For now. “You definitely have too much free time on your hands.”

And then his grip hardened, and he slammed Vince’s head into the wall. Sharp pain spiked through Vince’s skull, the world went white for a second. His hands instinctively flew up and grasped at Nikki’s arms, but his grip was unyielding. Nikki’s nails were digging into Vince’s cheek so deeply Vince feared they would tear right through the thin skin.

“I wonder when you managed to do that.” Nikki’s voice was as though coming from afar, even though his face was inches away from Vince’s. “Meet up with Metallicos, I mean. It sure happened in Port Royal, but I’ve been keeping an eye of you the entire time. So when?..”

“I didn’t.” Vince’s voice betrayed him and came out really hoarse and quiet. “I never met up with any-“

Another slam. Pain flashed in the back of his head and spread through it like a spider’s web, enveloping Vince’s brain, evaporating every coherent thought. He didn’t even notice he bit through his lip until his saliva tasted metallic.

“Liar,” Nikki said coldly. “Filthy, dirty liar. Caught red-handed and still trying to weasel away from it. Typical for your kind.”

What kind, a thought flashed through Vince’s mind, but it was gone as fast as it came. He was frantically searching for words that would convince Nikki he was innocent – and couldn’t. Whatever he said, Nikki would find a way to turn it against him.

He spoke anyway. “If I conspired with them. I wouldn’t kill those two. In the galley.”

“Maybe you realised they were losing and tried to cover your ass.” Nikki narrowed his eyes.

“I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know who they were. I swear!” The last word rose in pitch and trailed off. Nikki looked at Vince… not with hate, not with rage. Like an artist admiring his work of art.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter now. All the Metallicos are dead, and I’ll make sure you have no chance to plan against me ever again.”

And then he released his grip. Turned out it was the only thing holding Vince upright, and now he slid down the wall, his knees weak. His heart was racing, his vision blurry. Dull pain spread from the back of his head, fogging his thoughts.

He forced himself to stay alert and watch Nikki, who stepped back, looking Vince over, another smug grin on his lips. Seeing that cold, handsome face, the face of a person who held Vince’s fate in his hands and fiddled with it however he wanted, cemented Vince’s fear into hate. No one should be allowed to wield complete power over a person. That makes them think themselves godly.

“On your knees,” Nikki said.

Tommy’s words came to mind. Don’t resist. You have only brushed the surface of what he’s capable of.

Vince’s elbows shook when he tried to prop himself up from the floor. White flashed before his eyes at the mere movement, making him halt to come to his senses. Nikki didn’t like the wait.

“Hurry up!” He kicked Vince in the side. “I’m not wasting an entire day on you!”

Vince suppressed a pained cry and scrambled to get onto his knees. He already had a suspicion, and now that Nikki began unfastening his belt, it proved itself true.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Vince said hoarsely. He didn’t even know why he said that. It sure wouldn’t convince Nikki not to do it. “I’ve never-“

“Then it’s time to learn,” Nikki replied cheerfully. His hand ruffled Vince’s hair, then gripped onto it and pulled his head back.

“You can’t imagine how gorgeous you are,” he said, rubbing Vince’s temple with his thumb, “like this. That’s where you belong.”

A hot ball of shame burst in Vince’s stomach, poisoning his whole body. He really wished his family thought he was dead. Because he wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye after this.

His face must have reflected his thoughts, because Nikki pulled at his hair and laughed.

“Don’t like that? But it’s true. The faster you learn to accept it, the better for you.”

Then he unbuttoned his pants and took out his half-hard cock. Vince couldn’t hold back a grimace - Nikki must have not washed himself since Port Royal. Vince too, sure, but he wasn’t making anyone smell his crotch, after all.

“Yeah, seafaring life has its limits. Get used to it,” Nikki said, lining the tip of his cock to Vince’s lips. “Open your mouth. And mind your teeth.”

Yeah, it tasted even worse than it smelled. Vince’s first instinct was to spit it out, but Nikki’s grip on his hair was too tight. Instead Vince concentrated on suppressing his retching. Surely Nikki wouldn’t be pleased if he vomits all over his cabin.

Nikki didn’t give him much time to get used to it. He thrusted his hips forward impatiently, making Vince gag.

“If you don’t work on it yourself, I’ll just fuck your throat,” he threatened.

Yeah, he would surely vomit if Nikki did that. Vince had no other choice.

He recalled what the maids and prostitutes he slept with did and tried to copy that: carefully run his tongue along Nikki’s cock, then moved his head up and down the length. These whores were professionals, after all. He should have been paying attention to their techniques.

Nikki’s trembling gasp told him he was doing the right thing. His fingers grasped Vince’s hair tighter.

“Keep it up,” he ordered. “Just like that.”

Vince began moving his lips up and down Nikki’s cock, alternating speeds: slower, faster, slower again. It was harder than he thought: soon his knees began to hurt, and his tongue got tired. That was when he made a mistake.

“Ouch! Teeth!” Nikki pulled Vince’s head back by the hair, his cock slid out of Vince’s mouth. “Told you to be careful, little bastard!”

Then he slapped Vince with his free hand. It wasn’t really strong, or painful, but Vince’s poor head had gone through a lot that day already, so the world went blurry for a couple moments. Vince blinked forcefully to clear his vision and saw Nikki, frowning, expecting an answer.

“Sorry, sir.” He wiped a string of saliva on his chin. “You know I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s the only reason you’re not getting your ass kicked right now,” Nikki grumbled, pulling Vince back to his crotch. “But only this first time.”

Sucking dick turned out to be harder than Vince expected. He had to fold his lips under his teeth, and that made them go numb really fast. It was especially hard when moving quickly, and Nikki was at the stage of arousal when slowing down would anger him. To be fair, though, Vince managed that in completely non-sexual situations just as well, so the issue probably ran deeper than that.

“Come on,” Nikki growled, rocking his hips forward. “Faster!”

Now that his cock was fully hard, the threat of vomiting all over the cabin was getting more and more real. And Nikki, dissatisfied with Vince’s speed, took the matter into his own hands – literally: he wrapped his hands around Vince’s head and began violently thrusting into his mouth. The very throat-fucking he threatened Vince with.

It did not go well at all. Vince’s eyes watered, breath faltered, the dull pain in the back of his head sharpened and spread. And, the worst of it, his breakfast rose to his throat, threatening to spill out every second.

Vince frantically tapped on Nikki’s arm, trying to attract attention, but Nikki didn’t even notice. Trying to wrangle his head out of Nikki’s grip also failed. Nikki was so consumed in the action he didn’t even notice Vince’s fussing.

Well, there was no other choice. Vince pushed Nikki away, and when his hands met resistance, kicked him in the knee, making him gasp in pain, lose balance and fall. But that did make Nikki release his grip, letting Vince turn in the opposite direction and empty his stomach on the floor.

The porridge looked only slightly better on the plate than it did now. But it sure smelled and tested better, not mixed with stomach bile then. The taste was so bitter and nauseating that for a second Vince considered licking the wooden cabin floor, just to wipe it off his tongue.

He heard Nikki groan behind him and turned his head just in time to see him get up from the floor and limp towards him. The expression on his face made Vince’s already long-suffering stomach drop.

“I’m sorry-“ he began, but Nikki didn’t let him continue. With a strong kick he turned Vince’s body on his stomach, grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the floor.

This time it took Vince longer to come around, and it wasn’t pleasant. For a second he was sure he went blind, but then the vision returned, blurry, with white sparkles dancing in front of his eyes. And a sharp pain where Nikki’s hand pulled him by the hair.

“You little, dirty-“ he heard, the words barely audible through the ringing in his ears. “Eat your own shit.”

And then he dragged Vince to the puddle of vomit. Just before Nikki pressed his face into it, Vince propped himself up on his arms, his face inches away from the puddle. It was good he wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore – his skin didn’t soak it up like fabric would.

“Eat, dog!” Nikki growled, pressing on the back of Vince’s head. Pain spread through his neck and shoulders, but by mere miracle Vince kept his head up. He was willing to go far to not anger Nikki, but this was farther than that.

While Nikki was occupied pressing onto his head, Vince fumbled his leg until it met resistance – and then kicked as hard as he could. He hit the target: Nikki hissed in pain and let him go – just for a moment, but it was enough for Vince to roll away from the puddle of vomit, scraping his elbows on the hard floor.

Nikki was rubbing his leg and wincing – apparently, Vince kicked him in the injured one. Otherwise Nikki wouldn’t let him go so easily after just a kick, Vince realised. And he sure wasn’t going to let him go so easily now. Vince pissed him off so bad his face wasn’t even twisted in anger – it was now an expressionless mask, and his eyes were black, like a demon’s, even though his pupils were probably just unnaturally wide.

Nikki walked towards him. Vince crawled away – or, rather, tried to, because Nikki gripped his ankle and dragged him back to the center of the room.

“I was willing to let you go unharmed today if you pleased me,” he said, voice low. “But you didn’t please me at all.”

Then he kicked Vince in the ribs. One kick, two, three… then Vince lost count. Putting his arms in the way didn’t help at all, so he curled up in an embryo’s pose and covered his head with his hands, but Nikki still managed to get to the most vulnerable spots on his body.

“Scream!” Nikki yelled, kicking him once again. “Scream for fucking mercy!”

Vince would have, but he had no voice left. The only sound he could manage was quiet wheezing. He couldn’t even breathe: just as he inhaled, Nikki’s boot would kick the air out of his lungs. The edges of his vision darkened, his tongue tasted blood in addition to stomach bile.  At some point he distinctly felt one of his ribs crack under the assault.

Vince didn’t properly register when it all stopped: the pain consumed his whole being, dimmed all his perceptions. It took him a couple minutes to realise the kicks weren’t coming anymore. He peeked between his arms and saw Nikki’s legs pacing back and forth in and out of his field of vision. The floor planks vibrated under his feet.

Vince tried to inhale and began to cough violently. Blood splattered on the floor under his mouth. But when he finally got some air into his lungs, his chest exploded with pain. One of the ribs was tangibly shifting under his skin, every its movement sending sharp spikes of pain throughout his torso. Oh god. Was that even curable?

Nikki approached and squatted next to him. All Vince could see were his boots, boots that had just rammed into his flesh, bruising and breaking it. Then Nikki’s hand came into view and pushed Vince in the shoulder, turning him onto his back.

“So, how do you like that?” Nikki said completely casually. Vince would laugh at the contrast if it didn’t hurt so much.

“I don’t,” he croaked, his voice so raspy it was like his vocal cords got tied in a knot, and wiped snot and blood from his lips and chin. “Do you?”

“Does a teacher enjoy beating his bratty student? Or does he do it out of concern, to help him grow into a good person?” Nikki said philosophically.

“I think you do,” Vince continued, ignoring his reply. “We both know you aren’t doing this to make me better or something. It arouses you, to beat me up, to humiliate me. You get off of it.”

Nikki looked at him silently for a while, his expression unreadable. Then an uncanny grin widened on his face.

“I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to here. It’s a big problem of yours, forgetting what your place is. We should work on that.”

He rose from the floor, his hand reaching for a knife on his belt. Whatever he was going to do Vince already didn’t like. But mere movement caused so much pain he could only writhe on the floor, let alone protect himself. When Nikki pried his body with his boot and turned him onto his stomach, his rib – broken? cracked? – reacted to it with a burst of pain so violent tears welled in Vince’s eyes. He breathed heavily, every inhale painful, and stared at the floor, where his blood, snot and tears all trickled down and mixed into small puddles. It was all foreplay to him, wasn’t it? Maybe Nikki was finally gonna fuck him and leave him alone. It now seemed the best thing out of all Nikki did to Vince today.

Then something heavy lowered onto Vince’s butt and pressed him to the floor, making him hiss in pain. Nikki saddled him from behind and fidgeted there a bit, getting comfortable. Then his cold fingers gently ran across Vince’s back.

“So soft, and not a single defect. Skin can tell a lot about a person, you know. Yours, for example, reveals just how easy a life you’ve had.” Nikki’s hand gathered loose strands of hair sticking to Vince’s back and moved them to his ears. “We should fix that.”

Vince knew what he was going to do, but this knowledge didn’t reduce the pain in a slightest. When the blade submerged into his skin just above his right shoulder blade, Vince couldn’t hold back whimpering. Much as he wanted to endure it like a man, with silent dignity, it didn’t happen. Fear, pure primal fear struck him, and he began kicking his legs, twisting his hips and flailing his arms, trying to push Nikki off his back.

Nikki was heavy enough that it didn’t bother him much, but it did interrupt the process, so he pressed Vince’s head to the floor with one hand and shifted his weight to it. Vince’s legs and arms couldn’t reach him now, and the pressure to his poor head and the all-consuming pain rendered him barely conscious.

He could only lay here and take it all in. Sharp pain following the knife carving something on his skin; hot drops of blood rolling down his back and drip onto the floor; throbbing ache in his lower chest; cold hard wooden floor; nauseating smell of vomit and blood; the heaviness of Nikki’s body on his own. It all was so much that he didn’t notice himself scratch the floor so hard his fingers left bloody traces on it.

At some point Vince lost consciousness. He wasn’t sure how much time he spent that way and how soon Nikki discovered it, but the awakening – a bucket of cold water – was extremely unpleasant.

“Hell no, you ain’t missing out on this,” Nikki said, throwing the bucket away. It rattled loudly across the floor, the sound as though driving nails into Vince’s head. Then Nikki got down to continue his work.

Vince couldn’t scream or cry anymore: he went out of tears, and his throat was so parched no sound could come out of it. He wished for death to come take him. Why had God forsaken him? Sure, he wasn’t overly pious in his life, he made his mistakes and committed his sins, but was it really so bad as to warrant such a punishment? Did he die in that first battle, and this was his own private hell? Was Nikki really human, or the Devil that had personally come to torture Vince? Was it all even real? Was he still alive? Was this pain forever?

He didn’t notice Nikki stop: the carving on his back burned too hot, too sharp to acknowledge whether there were still changes made to it. But then Nikki squatted down next to Vince’s face, a bloody knife in his hand.

“What do you say now?”

Vince said nothing.

“That is right. Finally you got it. Pity it took me all this blood and puke to get it into your stupid head.”

He rose to his feet.

“C’mon. Get up. Time to have some fun.”

Vince didn’t move. Nikki sighed.

“I see. Ideally, I should punish you for not following my orders, but, quite frankly, I’ve had enough of that. This foreplay has got too damn long.”

He hooked his arms under Vince’s armpits, lifted him off the floor and dropped him on the bed. The broken rib shifted under Vince’s skin again, but he barely noticed that. He barely noticed anything, to be fair. The world was swimming in front of his eyes, completely going black some moments, the sounds came as though through a thick layer of glass. His head couldn’t handle a half-coherent thought. He understood what Nikki was gonna do and he didn’t care anymore. Couldn’t be worse than what he had already done.

He was right. The sex was the mildest thing he had done to him that day. Vince did distantly register Nikki move inside him and moan into his back, but that was all to it. What was he even afraid of? This was so harmless, so painless. His ass might hurt for a couple hours after that, yes, but that was it. It was practically nothing.

Vince didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually Nikki came and pulled out. Then he pulled up his pants and yelled something out of the cabin door. Soon someone else came in.

“Holy shit.” Tommy.

“What?”

“What the- what the hell did you do?”

“Taught him some manners.”

“You beat him half-dead!”

“Unfortunately, that’s what it took.”

Silence.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take him to Izzy, or to the galley, or, I dunno, drop him off in the hold somewhere. Just get him out of my sight.”

The bedsheet under Vince’s body shifted. Tommy wrapped him in it, picked him up and carried him out of the cabin.

Vince inhaled the fresh sea breeze and blacked out.

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 19

Word count: 3740 Warnings: blood, guts, etc. A/N: let's pretend there hasn't been nearly a month between the chapters. i like to have some writing in reserve when i post, so i usually write a little bit in advance. and writing has been especially hard lately

Vince climbed through the hatch and looked around. Nausea rose up his throat, his breakfast almost spilling out.

The deck was a bloodbath. Bodies were strewn around, missing limbs, heads, guts spilling out. Right by the hatch thin-legged Tom looked at the sky with unseeing eyes, his throat slashed so deep his head and neck were held together by a sliver of skin. An unfamiliar man lay nearby, his arm nearby slashed neatly off his body, still grasping at his saber. A smell of blood and smoke hung in the air.

Well, Vince’s guess about the assault seemed to be correct. And the Shout crew were the ones left standing. Well, some of them. Most were sitting or lying down, Izzy fussing around them like a mother hen. But the majority seemed to be alive – for now, at least.

“Oh, hey Vince!” he heard a familiar voice from behind his back. He turned around and saw Duff. With one hand he was pressing a rag to the deep cut on his forehead, with the other – holding Slash by the shoulders. Slash seemed to be unable to step on his foot and groaned every time Duff made a movement. Duff led him to a crate by the board and unceremoniously dropped him on it. “You made it, man! We saw two Metallicos climbing down the hatch and thought you were done for.”

“Apparently not.” Vince headed towards the two pirates. “What in the fresh hell happened here?”

“Fucking Metallicos. Thought they could fool us, take us by surprise. Well, they are no more.” Slash pursed his lips. “Should’a trained better.”

“No damn privateer has an ounce of honor. Though, what else could we expect from the king’s whores?” Duff continued.

“You were attacked by privateers?” Vince blinked.

“More like heinously betrayed,” Slash grumbled. “I knew from the start there was something fishy here. Metallicos and cooperation? Unheard of. I wonder how the captain even believed them.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we’re short of gold at the moment. But he wanted more, apparently.”

“Wait – cooperated?” Vince tried to clarify.

“Yeah. Hetfield offered Sixx to take over a Dutch ship carrying spices to Americas. Promised a huge profit. We board it, eliminate the crew – the Dutch are poor slaves anyways – and then his men attack us! Of course, once we realised what was happening, they didn’t stand a chance. But they got a few of our boys by surprise.” Duff sighed. “Anyway, we’ve got both Hetfield’s ship and the spices, so I guess we’re winning here.”

Hetfield. That was the man the Baldie and Three Fingers mentioned when they came to the galley. He gave them Vince’s description – and, apparently, told them to search for him on the ship. How did he get to know Vince was here? And more, why did he need him? Could he recognize him on sight? Or maybe the Whartons put out a call for Vince’s rescue together with the description?

A lump formed in Vince’s throat. Those men could have come to save him. His family surely offered a big award for his rescue – Metallicos would absolutely want to cash in on it. And if they were privateers, maybe the Crown itself had a say in the matter. What if Vince’s rescue was one of the reasons they attacked the Shout crew?

And he killed them. Killed them with his own hands. Sure, they were a bit nasty, but that didn’t mean anything, right? A privateer is still a pirate, serving the king or not. And pirates weren’t the most well-bred kind.

“Dude, you alright?” Duff frowned. “You look like you’re gonna drop dead.”

“Yeah,” Vince heard himself saying, “yeah. I just need to sit down. I just need to… sit down.”

On shaky legs he shuffled away from the two friends and lowered himself on the deck. He killed his saviors with his own hands. He killed his own chance at rescue.

The air was filled with moans and yelling, Izzy gave commands somewhere in the distance, pirates hurried by. It was all a background noise to Vince. The thought gnawed at him, consumed him piece by piece. He was doomed to stay on the Shout till the end of his days.

He wasn’t allowed to wallow in his misery for long.

“Oh, here you are!” Tommy came up to him, his now bandaged hand hanging off his chest on a dirty rag. “We need to get rid of all these damn corpses onboard, and you’re among the only ones who’s almost unscathed. Robbin will help you.” He pointed at a grim blonde man with an eye patch crouching before one of the corpses. Vince hadn’t spoken to him before, and Robbin didn’t seem too eager to communicate either.

Vince rolled his eyes. “So I’m not a man enough to fight but a man enough to drag around corpses.”

“We didn’t let you fight not because we think you can’t,” Tommy replied sharply. “We’ve seen you in practice. There’s a different reason.”

“What reason?”

“You’ll get to know it someday. But for now, you’ll have to make do with what you have.”

“Did these privateers want to rescue me?” Vince asked directly. He didn’t doubt Tommy would lie to him, but maybe he could see a clue in the face of the first mate.

But Tommy just grinned wide. “Not everything is about you, princess. These bastards, may they burn in hell, wanted our loot. And now they don’t want anything because dead people don’t need things.”

Vince sighed. Tommy wasn’t as easy to crack as Mick. Or maybe Vince just didn’t know him well enough. “What about corpses of the crew?”

“We’ll bury them with honor, so just drag them to the center of the deck. Izzy will give you some sheets to cover them with. Wait, are you bleeding?”

Vince showed him the gash in his forearm he got from the pirate. It slowly but surely soaked his sleeve in dark-red.

“Oh, that’s nothing. I’ll call Izzy, he’ll patch you up in a moment. I think he’s done with the heaviest cases already. And then – corpses!”

Tommy strolled away. He was energetic and high-strung, as if the battle excitement still hadn’t let him go and he had nowhere to pour it into.

Izzy came with his usual bottle of vodka and a bundle of rags.

“Not as bad as it could be,” he murmured, pouring vodka all over the gash. “I’ve heard you took out two of Hetfield’s bastards all by yourself. Nice work.”

“Thanks.” Vince felt a tinge of pride. News spread fast, apparently.

Izzy dabbed a rag on the edges of the wound, wiped the blood that trickled down Vince’s arm and bandaged the gash.

“All done. You’re good to go.”

“Thanks. A lot of work today, huh?”

Izzy sighed heavily. “Yeah.”

He left. Vince glanced at grim Robbin that he was supposed to dispose of corpses with. He didn’t look one bit friendlier, but Vince surely wasn’t going to do everything alone.

Robbin didn’t answer his greeting, but did follow him to the first corpse. Guts that were spilling out of its stomach dragged on the deck behind it. The corpse sunk with a loud splash, and the water went wine-red in that spot for a second.

Getting the two corpses out of the galley up the hatch was an especially excruciating ordeal. Robbin on the deck pulled them upwards while Vince pushed them up from down below. The Baldie’s guts dripped all over his shirt, and Three Fingers’ boots left a trace on his cheek, and Vince, sweaty and dirty by the end of it, regretted killing them a hundred times over. Should have cut off their arms or something so they could walk out on their own and bleed out on deck.

At some point Vince lost count of how many spilled guts and cracked skulls and cut off limbs he saw that day. By the end of it he got numb and tired enough to not care. He only hoped they wouldn’t make him scrub the deck as well.

There were four corpses of the crew which Vince and Robbin arranged at the center of the deck and covered with white sheets. Soon the sheets were peppered with little red spots, but the corpses weren’t bleeding anymore so it didn’t go beyond that. Vince’s muscles were ringing with exertion and his legs were shaking – all those pirates sure ate too much for his liking.

When they were done, he and Robbin plopped down on the deck in a spot clean of blood to take a breath. For the first time Robbin looked Vince in the eyes and gave him a barely noticeable nod. Vince must have done well in the eyes of the pirate.

Just as he settled to have some rest and watch the sunset, he saw Mick approach him in big strides with a determined expression on his face.

“Here you are!” he said. “I need you in the galley. Dinner isn’t gonna cook itself.”

“Oh, come on,” Vince moaned, hiding his head between his knees. “I just spent two hours dragging corpses around, can I have some rest at least?”

“You’ll have to answer to all the hungry crewmates then. C’mon, c’mon.” Mick pulled on his sleeve. With a groan, Vince rose from the deck, shook off dirt from his irreparably ruined pants and followed Mick.

***

Blood soaked into the wooden floor of the galley, and the floor was cold and wet under Vince’s bare feet. He already dirtied his feet on the deck, so it didn’t bother him much. The blood on his pants and shirt already started to harden and stink, and Vince disposed of the shirt – it was ruined beyond repair anyway. The breeches weren’t much more pleasant to stay in, but he couldn’t walk around the ship naked. He hadn’t fallen so low yet.

“Which one of them broke her?” Mick suddenly asked as he lit up a lamp.

“The one with three fingers.”

“The one whose stomach you cut open?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he suffer? Or did he die quickly?”

“One doesn’t negate the other.”

Mick sighed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

He pulled out a rag, poured some water on it and gave it to Vince.

“Wipe yourself up. I don’t want all that blood to get into the food.”

“Do you, by any chance, have another shirt you don’t need?” Vince asked, wiping blood off his chest. It dried up and stuck to the skin, and he had to rub it hard to get rid of it.

“Nah, kid, you took the last one.”

“But I can’t just walk around like that.”

“You very much can. It’s not like it’s too cold for that, and no one cares about that bony chest of yours.”

“I care.”

“That’s your problem. C’mon, we need to get to work. Hungry pirates after a fight are no good to deal with.”

Mick decided on regular porridge: it was quick and filling and required low effort. Muttering went across the crew when they presented them with a pot of porridge instead of meat, but the hunger prevailed. Soon quiet descended on the deck, and it was even quieter than usual during dinner: no one was eager to make jokes and talk much that day.

Nikki dined on deck with Tommy a bit away from the crew. Vince feared even to look in his direction: what if he triggered the captain with a mere glance? He was extremely enraged at him today in the galley for no reason. Well, Nikki had some reason he thought up, something related to that Hetfield man whose crew they defeated. Did he suspect Vince had something to do with their betrayal? But why? He didn’t even see any of them before those two barged into the galley, let alone speak to them.

As the dinner neared its end, Nikki rose to his feet.

“Friends,” he said loudly, attracting everyone’s attention. “Crewmates. Let us honor our dead.”

He stood over the four corpses Vince and Robbin laid on deck. A speech followed, something along the lines of “we shared our bread, our beer and our battles”, reminding of each of the dead’s merits, recalling fun times together. Vince didn’t listen very closely – he didn’t know any of the dead. Besides, if he thought too much about what Nikki would say over his dead body, his heart would probably burst.

At the end everyone applauded very solemnly, and the corpses were gently descended into the water, with much more care than what Vince and Robbin applied. As everything was done, Nikki wished everyone good night and retired to his cabin, not sparing Vince a single look. It was a relief.

The one to spare more looks than Vince would like to was Tommy this time. Already slightly drunk, he came up to Vince, plopped on the bench next to him and invitingly patted his knee.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Vince heaved a heavy sigh. He wasn’t as afraid of Tommy as of Nikki, but all his touches and pinches and smiles were not pleasant to say the least. Tommy hadn’t done anything of the sort to Vince yet – but Vince had a feeling it wouldn’t last for long.

“C’mon. Don’t make me wait.” Tommy’s voice hardened.

Vince looked around. Nobody but Mick noticed it, and Mick was assiduously looking away. There wouldn’t be any help from him.

“I haven’t finished my porridge.” Vince pointed at his half-finished plate.

“So?”

Vince bit his lip. Yeah, Tommy probably wouldn’t hit him too hard for disobeying, a smack on the head at worst. But he was also treated Vince pretty well (compared to Nikki, at least), and Vince didn’t want to lose his favor.

So he set down his plate, rose from the bench and walked up to Tommy. His moment of hesitation was cut short as Tommy pulled him onto his knees with his healthy arm. Incredible how much strength there was in those lanky limbs of his.

Vince wriggled on his knees a bit, trying to get more comfortable – if that was possible in such a pose. No one looked in their direction, but it was still only a question of time.

“That’s right, darling, get comfy,” Tommy said in his ear, hugging him with his healthy arm and drawing closer. Blood rushed to Vince’s ears, and he dropped his head, hoping that his hair would shield him from Tommy’s eyes, would help him keep his shame to himself. But Tommy didn’t let him.

“It’s alright,” he said, tucking Vince’s hair behind his ears. “We’re not doing anything, right? Just sitting there enjoying each other’s company.”

“Definitely not me,” Vince murmured, quietly but loud enough for Tommy to hear him – and grin in response.

“That’s the princess I know. Your obedience made me a bit wary.”

He pressed Vince’s head against his chest. For the uninformed they could look like a pair of lovers. Thankfully, the whole ship was informed enough, and the glances they were getting were quickly averted. That didn’t decrease the shame pooling in Vince’s stomach, but at least they didn’t stare openly.

“How you doing?” Tommy continued like there was nothing happening. “Was that, what, the second fight in your life?”

“Yes.”

“Were you scared? I was scared at my second fight. I was barely eighteen, and there were all those grown men brandishing sabers and guns. The smoke, the blood… We fought, we won, and I spent the night puking over the board from sheer stress.”

Well, even seasoned pirates had their first fights, Vince reasoned. He didn’t understand why Tommy was telling him this, though. What was his purpose? Get him all soft and trusting and then break it all – or let Nikki do it – to hurt him even more?

“I’m fine.” More scared of Nikki, he wanted to add but didn’t.

“Yeah, I see how you’re fine. Quiet, suspiciously obedient, and, oh, look at those shaking hands. That’s a fella who is totally fine.” Tommy cupped Vince’s chin and turned his head to face him. Vince looked him in the eyes defiantly – see, I’m not scared, not of you, not of anyone else.

“I have killed before,” he said. “Two of your men, to be clear. And two today. That makes a count of four.”

“That’s a solid count for a non-pirate. I killed only nineteen people, which, at ten years of experience, isn’t much. Nikki’s count is twice as high.”

“Only?!” Vince choked on his own saliva. “And do you mean Nikki killed nearly forty?”

“Well, he says so. He might embellish the number a bit, but I think it’s pretty accurate.”

Forty kills… forty people dead at the hands of the captain. He took lives like he took his morning beer – quickly, easily and ruthlessly. Killing Vince would probably be like snapping fingers to him. It was probably how it all would end. The question was not if, but when.

“You’ve been pirating for ten years?” Vince decided to change the topic. Tommy seemed benevolent enough to share some information. “But you don’t look much over twenty. How old were you when you started?”

“Do I look that young?” Tommy pouted. “I’m twenty-five already. Maybe twenty-six. My parents weren’t sure on an exact date. So… fifteen, I guess?”

“Some crew took you in at fifteen?”

“Me and Nikki, yeah. I was a cabin-boy. Not in the way you are now a cabin-boy, though. Hey!” Vince poked him in his hurt arm, and Tommy jabbed him with his elbow in response. Vince tried to use this momentary hassle to wrestle free, but Tommy’s grip was unyielding. He gave up and continued the conversation.

“And Nikki?”

“He was a bit older, so he qualified as a sailor. Nineteen, maybe?”

“So he’s now twenty-nine.” Vince examined Tommy’s face, looking for a joke, but there was not a sign of it even on Tommy’s eternally-grinning face. He must be serious.

“You sure know how to count.”

“Only twenty-nine, and already a captain of his own ship? How come?”

“Oh, that’s a long story. Let’s just say: a whole lot of blood got spilled.”

Tommy talked about it light-heartedly, but a shiver ran down Vince’s spine. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details. On the other hand, it was always useful to know who you were dealing with…

“That’s probably because he gets angry often,” he said. “Sometimes without a reason. Like at me today.”

“Today?” Tommy suddenly got very serious. “Oh yeah, he was mighty pissed, and as much as I explained to him that you couldn’t possibly conspire with Metallicos – on account of you having never talked to a single one of them in your life – he still, I think, somewhat believes it. So you be careful around him for the next couple days. Try not to piss him off too much.”

So Nikki thought for some reason that Vince conspired with those enemy pirates of whose existence he learned a couple days ago and hadn’t seen till today? And even Tommy couldn’t convince him otherwise? Great, just great. Nikki didn’t look like a person who would let an emotion subside by itself; he was the one to make it everyone else’s problem. Vince’s problem, in particular.

“It seems me merely breathing already pisses him off,” Vince murmured.

“Well, sometimes you can be rather annoying just standing there with that expression of yours.”

“What expression?” Vince blinked in confusion. He might have let a grimace or two slip through, but usually tried not to let his emotions spill onto the surface. He wasn’t sure if he was successful in it, though.

“Well, that expression. When you pout and look from underneath your lashes. Like you’re all high and mighty and we’re just ants under your feet.” Tommy pinched his cheek. “Get rid of that noble residue, Vinnie, or finding friends on here will be extremely difficult.”

“I’m not doing that! At least, not on purpose!” Vince pushed Tommy’s hand away. In return Tommy grabbed him by the jaw, dug his nails into the skin on Vince’s cheeks and pulled his face very close to his.

“Don’t do that.” His hot breath blew over Vince’s face. “Or I might get angry too. And you wouldn’t like it.”

Yes, Vince had to agree, he wouldn’t like it. If Tommy didn’t lie – and he probably didn’t, seeing how he was defending Vince at the galley – he tried to talk sense into Nikki on Vince’s behalf. With questionable results, but it counted. And Vince didn’t want to lose an – it was hard to admit, but he had to – an ally.

“Sorry,” he said as clearly as Tommy’s hand on his jaw allowed him too. Which was not really clear, but Tommy understood him.

“That’s better. Now, let’s try again.” He pinched Vince’s cheek a second time, now much more painfully. Vince gritted his teeth and said and did nothing.

Tommy was satisfied. “Good boy,” he said. “Now give me a kiss and you can go. On the cheek, don’t worry,” he added, laughing at Vince’s miserable expression.

It didn’t make the situation much better, but Vince wanted to get away way more than he wanted to give the motherfucker a piece of his mind. He quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, his lips burning from the touch to the warm skin, and slid off Tommy’s knees the moment he released his grip. He couldn’t see Tommy watching his retreat, but he knew the asshole was laughing.

“Hey, Vince!” he heard Mick’s voice. “Where you going? We ain’t done here.”

Mick made him gather all the plates from the crewmates and only after that permitted to go to the galley with an additional ordeal of washing the dishes. But Vince was happy to, as long as he was away from all the pirates, and especially Tommy. He wasn’t violent, or cruel, or particularly unpleasant today, but Vince felt sticky all over from all those little touches and small taunts. It took him all his willpower to ignore them, and now he was tired and empty and just wanted to crawl under his blanket.

He did, eventually, after all the dishes and a couple other errands from Mick were done, and passed out of sheer exhaustion the moment his head hit his rolled-up rag that served as his pillow.

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 12

Word count: 2363 Warnings: none A/N: this chapter sucked all life out of me. i hope you like it.

“Ah, Thomas! Come in, come in.” Dr. Duren smiled and pointed at the chair in front of his table. “I was going to see you a little later, after you get used to the asylum a bit, but it’s probably to the better we meet so soon. You sure have grown since the last time we met!”

Dr. Duren was a frequent guest at the Bass’s house, but Tommy stopped showing up to guests two years ago - his parents thought he would ruin their image. He didn’t mind much. All the guests were always too wary of him to his face and joked about him behind his back anyway. Father called him to see Dr. Duren a couple times he’d been over, but Tommy refused every time, and eventually he ceased trying. Well, now he got his way.

“I get that a lot,” Tommy said.

“Of course, I’d rather we met in different circumstances,” Dr. Duren continued, “but God always knows what’s best for us”.

Tommy couldn’t hold back a grimace. He stopped believing in all that stuff at fourteen. That was one of the reasons he was committed, in fact.

Dr. Duren smiled condescendingly. “You may not think so now, but one day you will look back and see that it was indeed the best time and place. Please, sit.”

Tommy sat down. The chair was too low for him, and his knees stuck out too high. He tucked his legs under the chair so it wouldn’t be as noticeable.

“McKagan told me you wanted to see me.” Dr. Duren folded his hands on the table. “Do you have something to say?”

“Yeah, I-“ Tommy began, but then a sudden thought stopped him dead in his tracks. What if this – what he’d heard – was a warning?

No. He wanted to speak on the problem, and he would do it.

“I wanted to talk about the work you make patients do.”

“What about it?” Dr. Duren raised his eyebrows.

Someone breathed down Tommy’s neck. The breath was cold and smelled of rotten leaves.

“It’s…” he swallowed, “not right.”

“What’s not right?” Dr. Duren tilted his head. “The labor therapy produces incredible results. Patients spend their time and energy on something tangible, they know their labor improves their own lives, they can see the results of it. I personally believe it’s one of the best treatments for mental derangement. Benefits both patients and the asylum.”

Tommy found himself at a loss of words. What could he say to that that wouldn’t paint him as lazy and entitled?

“But patients are here to be cured. Doesn’t work take out of that? I mean, they could be doing…” Tommy waved his hand, “healing activities?”

Dr. Duren threw his head back and laughed.

“My boy,” he said, “what ‘healing activities’ do you mean? Water therapy? Art therapy? Behavioral correction? They’ve got plenty of that despite work. You haven’t been to our communal evenings yet, have you? Well, I’ll make sure you get there today. Patients play music, sing, dance, play board games. It provides a perfect opportunity for civil socializing. Patients that need extra therapies at other time of the day skip work to have them. We do not exploit them, I promise. We offer them a chance to grow and change the world around them.”

Well, this sounded damn convincing. Still, Tommy didn’t see any happiness on patients’ faces when they worked in the garden, nor enthusiasm in their movements. They looked more like serfs working on a lord’s field.

“They didn’t look very happy.”

Dr. Duren sighed. “Thomas, no insane man ever thinks he needs to be fixed. But they are, at their core, insane. Their brain is broken. Of course they don’t enjoy labor; that’s a trait of a sane, well-adjusted man.”

“Do you also think that about me?” Tommy asked straight-forwardly.

“Well,” Dr. Duren narrowed his eyes slyly, “you’re here to ask me to free you from work, after all.”

Tommy blinked in confusion. But he didn’t say that!

“How’d you know?”

“Your father gave me a pretty comprehensive overview of your character. I supposed you’d ask me for this favor.”

Tommy’s stomach sank. So his father not only shipped his son off to the asylum, he also told Dr. Duren nasty things about him. Tommy didn’t doubt a second there was no positive descriptions of him in that overview.

“And will you?...” he said quietly.

For a while Dr. Duren was silent. Steps were pacing back and forth behind the door of his office. Finally, he spoke.

“No.”

Tommy foresaw this, in a way. All this talk about usefulness of labor, of insane men not knowing what they need. He wasn’t stupid; he could see that coming. But disappointment filled his mouth with bitterness.

“You see, Thomas, your dearest father expressed only one wish to me: “Make him realise he’s not special”. By freeing you from labor I will go against his wish. I promise as time passes you will realise it’s good for you. You just can’t see it yet.”

“You’re no better than him,” Tommy spat out.

“I’ll consider that a compliment,” Dr. Duren said warmly. “Now, dear Thomas, I have other patients to attend today. We will meet soon to discuss your… condition, though. Meanwhile, try to get comfortable here. Make some friends. You’re going to need it.”

Tommy let McKagan take him away. As he walked down the corridor, his hair was being ruffled by someone’s breath right on the back of his head.

***

“You got off easy,” Mick said after Nikki quietly told him of the punishments Dr. Duren dispensed to them. “You’d go crazy in solitary. Crazier than now, I mean.”

He was restringing an old guitar that had been in the asylum since time immemorial. It had been here even before Mick, and that was saying something. It was a simple acoustic, and its neck bent farther and farther with each passing year, making it sound like shit. So far Mick managed to amend it by shoving thin cardboard stripes over the nut to raise the strings up, but it couldn’t last forever, of course. Soon he’d have to beg for a new guitar.

“I know,” Nikki said, anxiously picking at the skin by the nail of his left thumb. He had already pulled off several layers of skin, and his fingers were smeared in blood. “And Vince’s gonna go crazy too.”

Mick smiled dryly. “In this case it’s hardly possible. To go crazier, I mean.”

Nikki let out an exasperated sigh. “It is. You just don’t know it. And I do. And we gotta prevent it.”

Mick didn’t answer, pretending to be consumed with trying a knot at the end of a string.

“Well?” Nikki pushed on.

“Shitty strings,” Mick murmured, pulling the one he’d already installed. “But what else could I expect from those nurses… Probably the cheapest ones they could find.”

“Oh come on!” Nikki groaned. “I’m trying to talk to you here! About important things! Stop fussing over that old thing already!”

He spoke too loudly; several patients turned their heads to them.

“You want all the nurses to hear?” Mick shushed him, loudly playing the three strings he’d already installed. The heads slowly turned away from them.

“No.” Nikki made a deep breath. That’s right, calm the fuck down. “I know you despise the guy. But could you just entertain a thought of helping him for a bit? For me.”

“They should have put you in the solitary too,” Mick said. “So you have an opportunity to realise what a piece of shit he is.”

“You’ve just said I’d go crazy in there.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

Nikki rolled his eyes. “You’re useless.”

Mick felt a pang of guilt. A very slight pang of guilt, but nevertheless. This asshole somehow crawled into Nikki’s heart and nestled there comfortably, refusing to go away. Mick didn’t know what would it take to exorcise him out of it.

“The nurses always watch very closely that no one talks to patients in solitary. You have no chance,” Mick said.

“So talking is out of the picture,” Nikki concluded sadly. “What about writing? Could I write a note and pass it to him?”

“You could. If we had paper. And a pencil. Which we don’t have.”

“Dr. Duren totally has them in his office,” Nikki said weakly. He seemingly started to see the futility of his endeavor.

“And what are you gonna do, steal them? Really?”

“I could try…”

“…and get yourself a punishment and a lot of unnecessary questions.” Mick rubbed his forehead. “Listen. Your darling Vince has already been through it before. He’ll survive. Maybe he’ll be a little angry with you afterwards for a while. But he’ll come back to you anyway – apparently, he can’t stay away from your juicy ass for long. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But it’s my fault,” Nikki protested. “I shouldn’t have… taught him a lesson. I don’t know what Hudson did, but it must have been something bad. I feel guilty for it now.”

“Yeah, and let him keep wiping his feet on ya? Does being a doormat get you off or what?” Mick felt anger rise in his chest. Could the boy just stand up for himself and not come back crawling later for once?

“He ain’t wiping his feet on me!” Nikki almost screamed again. Mick sighed and played a short melody on the four installed strings. One of them sounded off; he pulled it a couple times and adjusted the tuner a bit. That was better.

“Yeah he does, and you thank him for it. You ain’t gotta thank people just for paying attention to you. And if they demand you do, you gotta run away as fast as you can.”

“You don’t understand nothin’,” Nikki hissed, jumped up from his chair and rushed away, slamming the door in the process.

“Sure I don’t.” Mick sighed to no one in particular. A nurse would quickly bring him back, so Mick wasn’t too worried.

He was battling the knot on the sixth string when McKagan brought Nikki inside. Water was dripping from his face and hair. The nurse probably had to spray him with cold water to cool him down a bit. McKagan led Nikki to a chair in the corner, sat him down on it, said something along the lines of “behave yourself” and retired to the entrance to watch the community evening from there. Nikki remained on his chair, sullen and bristling like a hedgehog.

The boy needed a friend or a lover that could ease his obsession with Wharton. Mick clearly wasn’t a good fit: he was old and ill and didn’t match Nikki’s destructive youthful energy. He was sure that was what attracted Nikki in Wharton: the readiness to blow up the world given a slightest opportunity. Sure, Nikki didn’t look like the type, often subdued by depression, but it could be clearly seen when he smiled – that toothy too-wide smile that betrayed his true character. He just didn’t smile often enough for others to see it.

No one in the asylum beside Wharton matched his energy. Except maybe the new lad. Sure, he was not that clever, and he still had a lot to learn about life, but there was something in him, some driving force that all other patients in the asylum had already lost. They could hit it off.

Tommy was here today, looking unusually jumpy and anxious, but left soon, not giving Mick an opportunity to talk to him. Nikki, on the other hand, was sulking in the corner the whole evening, the tunes only slightly raising his spirits, even though usually he loved them. Mick tried not to pay attention, but his thoughts kept returning to Nikki and Wharton. What could he even do besides stop Nikki from doing obviously stupid things? Nothing, really.

Nikki didn’t speak to him after the community evening, and Mick didn’t insist. The guy surely needed to unwind and think it all over. For the first time he was thankful Nikki got restrained for the night – at least he wouldn’t do something idiotic. And the head was always clearer in the morning.

His ward was filled with moonlight from the window. It lay in stripes on the floor and across walls, creating a weird, persistent feeling of unease – Mick couldn’t rely on darkness to hide in anymore. He had long been asking for curtains, since his ward was on the sunny side and the light bothered him a lot, but never got them – a safety hazard, he was told. They were probably just afraid he would somehow hang himself on them, even though he’d never shown suicidal tendencies.

Mick looked out of the window in his usual environment check. No strange lights or shadow figures – but that didn’t mean anything. They could hide very well, so well that no one but Mick knew of their existence, and they cleverly manipulated everyone around him to believe he was crazy, so no one would believe him. So Mick had to uncover their plans alone, from behind the bars of his ward or the wall separating the asylum from the rest of the world. Thankfully, these also hid him pretty well. They knew he was somewhere around here, but they couldn’t differentiate faces. They didn’t know which one of the patients Mick was, and they’ve been unsuccessfully trying to find out for the last twenty years-

Wait, no. Something was not right.

The spider web outside of Mick’s window. It was there just this morning, some poor fly having tangled itself in it. It wasn’t there now. Not a trace of it. Like someone swept it off with a broom. But Mick was on the third floor of the building.

Mick ducked under the window like he was being shot at. This couldn’t be a coincidence. The web withstood the strongest of winds on his memory. It was done on purpose. It was a threat. Or a warning.

The rest of the night Mick spent sitting on the floor next to the window, anxiously trying to keep himself out of sight.

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 18

Word count: 3823 Warnings: violence, blood, guts, all that stuff A/N: finally i got down to updating this one. work's been sucking me completely dry so i could only get to it on the weekend. anyway, hope you enjoy this!

The chain was about three feet long and easily slid up and down the post, so Vince managed to reach for his blanket and lie down on it: he had nothing to do anyway, so he might as well catch some shut-eye.

He didn’t get even that. Just as he began to fall into a slumber, a loud “bang” went off at the distance, and a shudder went through the entire ship. Vince bolted awake. He had already heard that sound.

Those were the Shout’s cannons. He last heard them when his ship was attacked. He felt like he got a punch in the gut. The sound sure brought back unpleasant memories.

But why the hell were they shooting? Were they attacked? Or vice versa, attacking?

They had some plan to discuss, and an attack on you is usually not something you plan for. So they were executing a raid. That explained the imprisonment in the galley… partly: Vince wouldn’t be able to do anything about it anyway, and the pirates knew that. Maybe they didn’t want him to get in the way? He tried to not do so at any rate, raid or not. And chaining him up together with locking the door was way too harsh of a preventative measure – after all, they could have just told him. Then what the hell were they afraid of? Surely not Vince himself; maybe something he could do, or his presence could trigger?

The cannons, meanwhile, went silent. A vibration went through the ship, and then Vince heard battle screams and shots from the deck. The Shout gang must have neared its prey and was boarding it.

Well, he’d seen them in action, and he could only hope poor souls fighting them would rest in peace. How many ships like this one were on their conscience? Did it ever leave its mark on their souls? And how many more were still to come?

Vince didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized something was wrong. The screams and shots were now getting closer, he could even hear swords clanking. But that meant the battle had moved to the Shout’s deck. Which was impossible, because that meant the pirates were losing.

Or was it?

Maybe they took off a bite they couldn’t chew? A ship so much bigger than Shout that they were losing due to sheer numbers? That was unlikely, but possible. Unlikely because Vince could never imagine Nikki doing that. He always counted his odds, and did it very precisely. But how else could he explain it?

And… - his heart skipped a beat – did it mean he would soon be freed?

With bated breath he listened to the battle sounds from the deck. Oh how he wished he could see through the hard wood! His fate was being decided up there, and he couldn’t even see anything! Was that why Nikki chained him down here – to keep him from entering the fight, to deprive him of a chance to decide his own fate? That sure sounded like him. Though how could he predict this battle would be a losing one for them? Was that an attack, after all?

Vince could do nothing but wait and think frantically, flinching at every bang and gunshot from the deck. He imagined Nikki descending onto the enemies like a hurricane, his sword just a glint in the sun, blood splattering around, a crazy smile on his face. Tommy by his side, his curls flying as he jumped and swung his sword back and forth. Mick, not wasting more than exactly one bullet to kill an enemy. And yet they were losing? How was that possible?

Yet it was happening, right above his head. A scream pierced the air – and then was cut short as something heavy landed onto the deck. Was that one of the Shout’s crew? Or the unknown enemy? Though who exactly was an enemy to Vince in that situation?

He was so consumed by listening to the sounds above he almost missed the sounds coming from the corridor.

“Damn! Locked!” a hoarse voice said from behind the door. Vince’s heart sank into his boots – or rather, not being in possession of them, feet. He rose from the floor and pushed the blanket into the corner. “There must be something valuable in here then, ya think?”

“We gotta check it out,” another answered, sounding like its owner was born with a cigarette. There was something off-putting about them. It’s not what Vince imagined the voices of his saviors would sound like. “But quick – we gotta be the first to find that pipsqueak.”

‘Pipsqueak’? Were they referring to him? But his father’s men would never call him that.

Then a heavy blow shook the door, and one more. On the third blow it surrendered and slammed open, hitting the wall.

Two men stood in the doorframe, and Vince could tell at first glance they were not his father’s men. Or men of someone honorable. Compared to them Nikki’s gang could very well pass for gentlemen. One was bald, with an eye patch and tattooed arms – but not Nikki’s type, with well-defined lines and bright color; this guy’s tattoos were blurry and blueish. The other had matted hair, a red, sweaty face and three fingers on his left hand.

“O-oh, look what we’ve got here.” A smile widened on the bald guy’s face. “Blonde, girlish, scar on the cheek… exactly like Hetfield said. I think we struck gold, pal.”

Once again this Hetfield. Who the hell was this guy?

“Huh,” the other stretched his lips in a grin, “I kinda get Sixx now. Ya think Papa Het would let us-“

God, not this look again. Vince had enough of them already, and they never meant anything good.

“Who the hell are you?” he said, trying to sound confident. Nevermind that he was chained to the post and these guys each had a gun and a saber.

“Your saviors, baby,” Three Fingers said in such an oily tone Vince didn’t doubt anymore – these guys weren’t Vince’s saviors.

“What happened on deck?”

“A little skirmish. But don’t worry, we’ve slaughtered all your captors like pigs, as they deserve.” The Baldie approached, raised his saber and put the tip up to Vince’s chin. “Now tell me, where’s the key to this chain?”

“No idea,” Vince said honestly. Nikki had it, most likely, but for some reason Vince didn’t want to leave the galley at all, especially not with those two. Suffocating and depressing before, now the galley seemed a shelter. And these two were intruders.

“Are you sure?” The tip of the saber pricked the skin on his neck. “You must have seen it when they chained you up.”

“It snapped on its own,” Vince said. “I haven’t seen the key.”

“We’ll find it anyway. If not now, then later, on a body of one of these bastards. And you won’t like it if we’ll have to wait.”

Was the Shout’s crew really all dead? No, the right question was – would they be? The pirate could say whatever he wanted, but Vince didn’t really believe him. Despite, he really didn’t see the key once, although he was fairly sure Nikki had it on him. He was in no hurry to tell the men that, though.

“Well, that’s too bad. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. You’ll have to wait, I guess.”

“You, mouthy bastard-“ The Baldie grabbed Vince by the collar and shook him, but his mate put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll get him later. He’s of no use, and we ain’t got much time.”

“I know.” The Baldie pushed Vince back so hard that he’d have fallen were it not for the chain.

A loud scream came from the deck. Both men flinched and looked up anxiously. So not everything was going well up there for them. Someone was still fighting.

“Look for the key. He could have given it to the cook,” The Baldie ordered to Three Fingers, who then made a beeline to Mick’s chest and began rummaging there. He, meanwhile, bent forward to look at the chain ring wrapped around the post.

“Damn. Don’t think I can crack this lock.” He yanked the chain, trying its hardness. Vince turned his head away in disgust – the man smelled like he hadn’t washed himself in months. The chain didn’t budge. If that could work, Vince thought bitterly, he wouldn’t be here now.

“You! Pull the chain!” The Baldie turned to Vince.

“Why?” he frowned, following with his eyes the pirate’s hand wrapping around the handle of his gun. “Oh no, no, that won’t wo-“

“I said pull the chain!” The man pushed Vince back again, and the chain stretched out flat. Then he shot at it.

There was ringing, something whizzed by Vince’s ear, and splinters from the ceiling sprinkled his hair. He raised his eyes: right above him there was a bullet hole.

“Idiot! You could have killed him!” Three Fingers hurried to them from the corner of the galley and knocked the gun out of The Baldie’s hand. It rattled across the floor, and Vince realized this guy was almost as dumb as his friend: it was pure luck the gun hadn’t gone off. Yeah, these men are gonna kill him, whether they want it or not. He had to do something.

“You have any other ideas?” The Baldie snapped. “You ain’t got the key, right?”

“No,” Three Fingers murmured. “It’s probably on one of these bastards.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The Baldie spat on the floor. “What are we gonna do, cut his hand off?”

Oh shit.

“Hey! There’s no need.” Vince’s voice sounded just a tone higher than he’d like it to be. “You got sabers, right? You can cut through the post.”

The two men looked at him, surprised, then at each other, then at him again.

“Hm,” said Three Fingers. Then he tilted his head and evaluated the thickness of the post. “This could work.”

“You don’t think it’ll take too long?” said The Baldie.

“Perhaps. But we ain’t got anything else. Or do ya really want to chop his hand off? Hettie’s not gonna like that.”

“Kinda.” The Baldie unsheathed his saber. “Back off, pipsqueak.”

Vince stepped back. Alright, he saved his hand – for now. He was pretty sure the men would soon get tired of scratching wood and come up with something else – something similarly harmful for Vince.

The Baldie began sawing. Three Fingers went on to rummage in Mick’s things.

“Would you look at that,” he said with an alarming smile, reached his hand underneath the bed and pulled out Mick’s guitar. “Old man’s a musician! Who could have thought.”

The guitar trembled in the hands of the man like a terrified woman. Vince realized what was going to happen even before Three Fingers got the idea.

“Sure would be a shame if his instrument was… crushed.”

And Three Fingers raised the guitar over his head and smashed it against the floor. The strings cried out one last time, the body cracked, the neck broke in half. Vince winced. These poor wretches didn’t know what they called upon themselves.

“Hey! I want to smash it too!” The Baldie demanded. Vince’s stomach tensed up. Mick’s really not gonna like this. And Vince let it happen, just like that. He was chained, of course, but that would be no excuse for the angry pirate.

Well, maybe if he could avenge the guitar Mick would forgive him.

He had no plan and hardly any intention. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. When The Baldie sheathed his saber and turned his back on Vince, intending to join his mate in thrashing the poor instrument, Vince reached forward, grabbed the handle of his saber and pulled it out of the sheath. A jerk from behind made the pirate turn his head – just when Vince plunged the blade into his back.

His cry of pain alarmed Three Fingers. His buddy staggered forward and with a groan fell right to his feet, splattering blood all over his boots. Unfortunately, in his agony he gripped the saber so tight the handle slipped out of Vince’s hand, and the blade stayed in the man’s body. Now Vince was facing a pissed cutthroat alone, one hand chained to a post, and not a single weapon in sight.

“You-“ Three Fingers gasped, looking at his friend bleeding out at his feet. Then his gaze shifted to Vince, and the mad rage in his eyes made him shudder. “You killed him, you bastard!”

He pulled out his saber and lunged at Vince. Vince ducked, and the weapon passed mere inches above his head, the wind it raised ruffling his hair. He launched at the man and wrapped both his hands around the saber-wielding arm and hung on it with the weight of his whole body: now to pierce him the man would have to shake him off his arm.

But then The Baldie began backing down, and the chain stretched out to its limit. Vince’s hand inevitably began slipping off: between metal and flesh metal was definitely winning. He wouldn’t be able to hold the rascal with just one hand.

With as much force as he could Vince pulled the man closer and kicked him in the groin. It worked: he dropped his saber and bent down, groaning in pain. But – damn it – his saber rattled across the floor out of Vince’s reach. Three Fingers, on the other hand, had it at arm’s length. Vince couldn’t let him recover enough to realise that.

Vince grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled at it. The man was too heavy for just one hand, but a couple inches was enough for Vince. He hooked his leg over the man’s neck and hung on him, pressing him to the ground. Three Fingers yelped and tried to shake it off, but Vince added his arm to the pressure, and the man leaned forward under his weight, allowing Vince to hook the other leg on his neck. Three Fingers couldn’t hold his whole weight and fell on his hands and knees.

Vince squeezed his legs around the man’s neck and began strangling him. Three Fingers wheezed, his hands gripped at Vince’s thighs, trying to unclench them. He was strong; Vince’s muscles rang with exertion. He wouldn’t be able to hold much longer. Just black out already, just black out already-

With a grunt, Three Fingers pushed his hands underneath Vince’s legs and opened the grip. Vince fell to the floor; pain shot up his back. The man staggered back, gasping for air. A few seconds, and he’d locate his saber and absolutely have the upper hand.

Vince’s gaze darted frantically around the room, looking for something, anything to arm himself with. Mick took the kitchen knife with him, that Vince remembered. The guitar’s neck broke at a sharp angle, but it was too far away from him. Wait, there’s The Baldie – he must have weapons on him, right?

Or in him.

Vince grabbed the corpse by the boot and dragged towards himself. The Baldie must have been twice as heavy as him, but he barely noticed it: the desperate desire to survive pulsed through his veins, pumped his muscles up with strength he could never imagine himself to have. His fingertips brushed the handle of the saber; he overcame the last inch through sacrificing skin on his wrist and pulled the saber out the very second Three Fingers came around and bent down to grab his saber. When he straightened up, Vince was ready.

Three Fingers was incapable of cursing at this point. He just growled and lunged forward.

Rage was never a good companion in battle. The only person Vince saw utilize it well was Nikki – but, Vince suspected, at this point it was just his second nature. Three Fingers definitely didn’t possess that kind of control.

Stab – dodge. Counterattack – parry. Three Fingers kicked him – Vince jumped back, stretching the chain. His arm went unprotected. Three Fingers seized the moment.

Or rather, tried. Vince spun around the post like a pole dancer, and the saber just scratched his arm. For a second Three Fingers’ stomach was open for a strike. And strike Vince did – blindly, following his instinct.

The blade met something soft, and a groan came from behind Vince’s back. The instinct proved itself reliable. Vince kept spinning, the saber trembling in his hand as it sliced through flesh. The groan turned to gurgling.

Then resistance stopped. The body fell to the floor with a soft thud. A thin flow of blood streamed towards Vince’s bare foot. He stepped back to the post, dropped the saber and collapsed onto the floor. Only now his body began to shake.

Soon the blood from both bodies reached him. He didn’t get up, letting it soak into his pants. He’d never manage to wash it out, not on the ship anyway; it would brush against his skin as long as he wore these breeches.

Footsteps behind the door. Vince raised his head and reached for the saber. But it was not another aggressive stranger. It was worse.

It was Mick.

He rushed into the galley, saw Vince and stopped dead in his track. Looked over the bloody scene unfolding in front of him. His face dropped when he saw the shreds of his beloved guitar. And then, torturingly slowly, his gaze moved to Vince.

“I’m sorry,” Vince murmured, avoiding looking into his eyes. “I couldn’t stop them. Like, physically.”

“It didn’t stop you from killing them, I see,” Mick said slowly. “Spilling guts all over my kitchen. I’ll never scrape all this blood out of the floors.”

Vince bit his lip. He killed two men one-handed, and that’s what he got? Berated for getting the galley dirty?

“But you avenged her,” Mick suddenly added. “That’s something.”

Another pair of footsteps. Tommy’s lanky figure appeared in the doorframe behind Mick. His face was splattered with blood, but Vince couldn’t understand whose it was, and his left arm hung lifelessly.

After a bit of silence Tommy spoke.

“Holy shit. He did that?”

I have a name, Vince thought tiredly.

“Apparently,” Mick said. He didn’t sound much surprised.

“Give way.” Tommy pushed past Mick, wincing when his hurt arm brushed against his side, and bent down to the body of Three Fingers. He turned it over and examined the guts spilling out of his stomach with an enviable indifference. Then he did the same to The Baldie.

Finally he looked up at Vince.

“Nice work, man,” he said. Was that a hint of respect in his voice? “Maybe we should have put you up on deck.”

“Maybe,” Vince jerked his shoulder. It should have felt good, proving to the pirates that he was also worth something. But Vince just felt empty.

Then Tommy got up and headed to the door.

“Nikki! He’s fine! Come look!” he yelled into the hatch.

Shit, Nikki forbade him to use weapons. Vince threw the saber into the corner and listened to it rattle against the floor as Nikki’s footsteps neared the galley. They were hurried, but heavy and uneven, and when he appeared in the door, Vince saw blood on his thigh.

His gaze sent chills down Vince’s spine. Nikki’s pupils were so wide his eyes were almost completely black. He was still vibrating with rage from the battle – and Vince was the perfect target to pour it out on.

As he was slowly, attentively examining the galley, Vince had to force himself to breathe. He’d never been scared of him more, not even when Nikki defeated him and, as he pressed his boot into Vince’s neck, Vince was convinced he was going to die.

Finally Nikki’s gaze landed straight on Vince, making him shrink. Nikki was capable, smart, handsome, young, but Vince would never want to be him. How was his human body even capable of holding that much hatred?

“You picked up a weapon,” he said. “You broke my ban.”

“They would have killed me.” Vince stared at the floor.

“Lies,” Nikki said so sharply it could as well slice Vince up in half. “They sought to free you.”

“No!” Vince shook his head. “They were going to… take me somewhere. To one Papa Het. No idea who that is.”

“Really? No idea at all?” Nikki narrowed his eyes. Vince looked helplessly at Mick, then Tommy. What does he want from me?

“Hey, man, relax.” Vince couldn’t say whether Tommy noticed his desperate expression or not but was thankful regardless. “If he knew what Het had wanted he’d not kill his guys. Which, by the way, is quite a feat. Gotta give him that.”

Nikki kept burning a hole in Vince’s skin with his eyes, but at least didn’t accuse him of anything Vince had no idea about anymore. What did he even mean ‘sought to save him’? They were clearly not intending to do him any good. Or did he fatally misunderstand them?

Great. Now he was agonizing over whether he just destroyed his only chance at gaining back his freedom.

Nikki turned away from him, and breathing was now easier. Please just leave, please just leave…

“Unchain him.” Nikki threw Mick a key, which he aptly caught, and left the galley. Even Mick and Tommy seemed relieved.

“What the hell was that?” Vince asked weakly. “I thought he was gonna kill me.”

“Don’t mind him.” Tommy waved his hand. “He’s just pissed. Not at you, you were just a convenient target. Now,” he nodded at his hurt arm and winced, “I would really like to visit sick bay. So long, gentlemen.” He walked out.

Mick silently unlocked Vince’s chain. It fell to the floor with a clang. Vince stretched his arms with a delighted groan.

“You’re hurt,” Mick said suddenly, pointing at the gash on Vince’s arm.

“Yeah.” Vince winced. “Should have been more careful.”

“That’s for sure. Fighting two rascals, armed to the teeth? Every day I’m just growing more and more convinced you’re completely insane.”

“They were going to kill me anyway.” Vince shrugged. “Why not go down in a fight?”

“You think they were?” Mick raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you decide so?”

“One almost shot me in the head trying to break the chain.” Vince pointed at the hole in the ceiling. “That’s when I realized they were going to do me no good.”

“Hm.” Mick examined the hole a little bit too attentively than it deserved. “You were probably right.”

He threw the key on the counter, walked to the remans of his guitar and began slowly, carefully collecting them into a neat pile on the floor. Vince didn’t dare to break the silence anymore, though he had many more questions. It felt sacred, almost like a ritual.

He slipped into the door behind Mick’s back.

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 11

Word count: 1957 Warnings: description of a psychotic episode A/N: i personally have never had a psychotic episode so this is me going off my imagination and what i've seen and read about them. hopefully it's close to reality!

“I’m very disappointed in you both,” said Dr. Duren with well-measured disapproval in his voice. Anything he ever said was always just the right amount of emotion. Nikki never saw him fly off the hook or lose control. It was almost uncanny – but very useful in constant contact with emotion-ruled psychos. “Very disappointed.”

Nikki glanced at Vince. He was leaning back onto the chair relaxedly, legs spread wide, expression mildly amused. If Nikki knew Vince a little bit less he would think he didn’t care what was going to happen to him. But Nikki knew Vince well enough to see the slightest tremble in him - he did care, didn’t want to be punished again. Yet he still assaulted Nikki in the canteen, knowing full well the consequences would be rather unpleasant. What did Hudson do to him that pissed him off so much?

“Who started it?” asked Dr. Duren. He addressed mainly Stradlin behind Vince’s back, but Vince replied instead of him.

“I did.”

“And why would you do that?”

“He looked at me the wrong way,” Vince said and smiled a crooked, bitter smile.

“Really?” Dr. Duren raised his eyebrows. He didn’t seem to believe Vince. “You have never had anything against Frank, but now one wrong look – and you pour soup on him?”

“You know me,” Vince replied, doing very good job of sounding nonchalant. “I’m a chaotic individual.”

“Did something occur between you two when you were on canteen duty?” Dr. Duren continued, now looking at Nikki. Damn it. Unlike Vince, Nikki was never good at lying, so he just shook his head.

“Nothing for Frank. And you, Vincent? Any complaints?”

“He was too slow at everything. I had to do most of the job myself.” Vince sent Nikki an overly grim look.

“Oh, so here it is.” Dr. Duren seemed satisfied. “Vincent, but you do see Frank’s hand is injured. Working one-handed is hard.”

“So what? I’m also injured, and I ain’t working at a speed of a turtle,” Vince complained a little too eagerly for Nikki to believe him. But Dr. Duren fell for it.

“Patience, Vincent. Patience. That’s what you lack. We’ll have to work on that.”

“Well, I’m sitting here listening to you, so clearly I’m patient enough.”

Dr. Duren gave him such a heavy look even Vince seemed to be slightly humbled by it. Only slightly, but still an achievement.

“You know I do not tolerate violence in my asylum, Vincent. Yet you chose to enact it. Clearly you’re not yet ready to go back to society. A week of solitary confinement in your ward for you. One of the nurses…” his gaze ran over the three nurses in his office, “Bailey, yes. You’ll deliver food for Vincent starting today evening and ending next Thursday. And accompany him to the bathroom. No more than three visits a day. And, yes, cuffs at night.”

Dr. Duren looked at Vince, whose face went so pale it looked almost like a death mask, and smiled.

“That will teach you patience, Vincent. If you are on your best behavior during that time, you will be released with no further punishment. Take him away.” He waved to Stradlin and Bailey, who took Vince by the forearms and led to the door. Nikki didn’t dare look at him, but Vince’s heavy gaze burrowed a hole in his back until he disappeared behind the door.

“And you, Frank…” Dr. Duren rubbed his temples tiredly. “You could have called the nurses, could have tried to avoid the violence. Yet you indulged in it, by all accounts, with energy and glee. This is unacceptable.”

Nikki nodded solemnly. Dr. Duren didn’t seem convinced.

“Since Vincent is now out of commission for a while, you’ll be cleaning the canteen on your own for the rest of your punishment. Hopefully cleaning up that soup you spilled will teach you the value of labor of cooking and cleaning staff.”

Well, it could be worse, Nikki thought, nudged up by the nurse. At least it was not solitary confinement, which drove already crazy men absolutely nuts. One smashed his head on the wall on the fourth day of the punishment. The other strangled himself on the sheets, which was why patients in solitary slept on bare mattresses and had their blankets taken during the day.

Nikki feared to even imagine what Vince would look and act like after a week in solitary. He was already pretty antisocial, in a sense that he didn’t really fit in a society, even a society of psychos. Vince himself loved society. He loved the attention people could give him; he craved it, he wanted to constantly be in the middle of it. And now no human connection at all besides a couple words with Bailey, who wasn’t the talkative type either…

And it was Nikki’s fault. Well, not entirely - Vince started the fight, after all. But that was revenge. To Nikki’s revenge. So Vince basically punished himself, didn’t he? He knew there would be consequences. Of course he knew. Was the soup he poured over Nikki’s head and a black eye he gave Nikki really worth a week of solitary? Did he think it would be worth it before he got it? Did he regret?

Nikki hoped he did. Because Nikki sure regretted starting it now.

***

Tommy soon realised nobody would hear him here, in the farthest corner of the asylum. The only other door nearby probably led to another padded cell, and it must have been empty. Only Simmons knew Tommy was here. And he would hardly take mercy on him soon.

What did Tommy even do wrong to get thrown in the padded cell, supposedly only for violent patients? He only asked to see the doctor. Which was kind of his job, seeing his patients. Duff even said he would try to carve out some time for Tommy today, so this was a possibility all nurses knew about. Then why’d Simmons react so harshly? Was there something the doctor didn’t know, and Simmons feared Tommy would tell him that? Was the padded cell a punishment for anyone daring to speak up?

Or Simmons could just be an asshole who didn’t care about patients whatsoever and only worked here to exercise power over vulnerable people. That was also possible.

Anyway, whatever the truth was, Tommy was in a pickle.

He sat down, leaning on the padded door. Its soft covering was pleasant to lean on, but Tommy would prefer the hardest of chairs. It was dark and quiet in there, and he was never on good terms with darkness and silence. When there were no outside stimuli, his brain usually began to make up his own.

And sure enough, soon Tommy started hearing steps. He first thought they were coming from the hall, but no one came to him yelling, so he decided this was his brain playing jokes on him. But then steps neared, became heavier and angrier, like someone was pacing back and forth just outside of the door of the padded cell. And they resembled Simmons’s steps so much a shudder ran down Tommy’s spine.

This was not real. He knew this was not real. There was no one outside the cell. It was just his brain playing tricks on him, as it always did.

Still, he crawled to the farthest corner of the padded cell, pressed his back into the wall, hugged his knees and stared at the small barred window, the only source of light in the cell. And every second he expected the light to disappear, cut off by a large, wide body of… Simmons? No, probably not even him. Probably something worse.

The only other thing besides the steps that Tommy could hear now was his own breath, and at least it was definitely real. So Tommy focused on it hard. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Louder, louder. Calm down, his beating heart. In. Out. In. Out. In-

The steps disappeared. Oh god, they disappeared.

Tommy wiped his forehead he didn’t even notice get sweaty. It left, thank god. Whatever was there, it left. He sighed in relief and slid down the soft wall onto the floor. His chest heaved up and down. The psychotic episode was over.

And then he heard steps inside the cell.

They were quiet, much quieter than the previous ones. But they were closer. Tommy could almost feel the whiffs of air that legs moving produced touch him. He rubbed his skin there, to drown the feeling in something more intense. But the coolness of the air wasn’t overpowered even by intensive rubbing; it was there even in the hotness building up under the skin.

One whiff of air reached Tommy’s nose, and a trace of a scent tickled it. It smelled… like the asylum garden. Like rotting leaves, wet earth, upcoming winter chill. Tommy didn’t like that smell. He’d never felt close to nature and had no desire to get close to it now. The scent, at first faint, then quickly grew in strength, overpowering everything else, stuffing Tommy’s nostrils until he had to breathe through his mouth. But even his mouth could feel the taste of the earth, and it was exactly how Tommy imagined it to be, and he had to suppress retching, because it was disgusting.

His brain couldn’t create something so vivid and material. It was real. It was his punishment for not obeying the nurses, for refusing to do the work others did. He forgot who he was and where he was, and this was a reminder. You’re nothing but a speck of dust, and other people have total control over you, and you will have to spend the rest of your life here, and oh, does that make you feel bad? Well, tough luck. Get over it. The sooner you do it, the easier it will be.

The steps grew closer and closer. Tommy pressed his back into the wall even harder, afraid it would touch him. What scared him the most was that he could hear only one breath – his own. And it gave him away. It could hear his breath. It knew where he was. It was just playing with him.

And this went on and on and on. Steps. Tommy’s quiet breath. The smell. The taste. It was unyielding. It was merciless. It was all-consuming. It swallowed Tommy whole.

Until it didn’t.

“Tommy?” he heard as though from afar. “Hey! Wake up!”

Tommy opened his eyes and saw Duff’s face mere inches away from his. Incredibly detailed, with every pore visible, nostrils flaring, expression concerned.

“Do you hear me?” Duff said, and his voice drowned out the steps. Tommy could still hear them in the background, but they as though moved away and now were barely audible. He raised his hand and carefully touched Duff’s face.

There was warm skin under Tommy’s fingers, his fingertips could feel all the little skin defects. Duff was here. Oh thank god.

Tommy gripped Duff’s face with all his might.

“Did it go away?”

“Hey, don’t get too handsy here!” Duff slapped Tommy’s hands off. “Did what go away?”

Tommy thought it over for a bit. Really, what was that pacing in the cell?

“I don’t know. Something.”

“Very informative,” Duff said tiredly. He must have dealt with lots of such claims. “Anyway, Simmons told me you were here. I got you a spot in Dr. Duren’s schedule. I see now that you need it. Come on, he’s waiting for you.”

He helped Tommy up and led him to the door. While they were walking down the hall Tommy could still hear steps far behind them, just on the border of real and imaginary.

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 10

Word count: 2488 Warnings: nsfw A/N: sorry for taking so long, im in the hole again

Vince was almost there when the door of the closet opened. He turned around, thinking Nikki decided to help him – and instead saw Hudson looming in the doorframe.

“Wharton, again?!” He grimaced, pointedly staring at the wall. “Was the doctor not clear enough last time about your passion for fleshy pleasures?”

The orgasm, seconds ago so close, now was unbelievably far. Vince groaned in disappointment, sent Hudson a grim gaze.

“Could you come just a few seconds later?”

“And let you fall back into your corrupted behavior? Yeah, I don’t think so. Pull up your pants. We’re going to the doctor.”

Vince remembered the punishment he got last time he got caught masturbating and shuddered. The traces on his hands didn’t go away for good two weeks afterwards. And he was already pretty battered. Some more, and no one would bear looking at his ravaged flesh.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Slash gestured at the door impatiently. His other hand was lying on the doorknob, and light from the corridor lay in a stripe across his face and hair. Yeah, he was pretty handsome.

Vince made a resigned face, tucked his half-hard dick back into his pants, pulled them up and stepped towards the door. And then grabbed Hudson’s hand on top of the doorknob and forcefully pulled on it. The door closed with a loud bang, and it was dark again.

“What the f-“ Hudson pulled his hand out of Vince’s grip and jumped back, almost colliding with a wall. Vince didn’t try to stop him. He did keep his hand on the doorknob. “-uck?”

“Hey, man, calm down,” Vince began. “Let’s talk.”

“I have nothing to talk to you about.” Hudson stepped to the door, now standing mere inches away from Vince. And not that he was scared… but no one dared to tackle the infamous patient alone. “The doctor will hear about this. And if you don’t let me out right now…”

“Please, omit the threats. I have a suggestion.”

Hudson narrowed his eyes. “I don’t wanna know what it is.”

“Just listen.” Vince made a small step forward. The smallest of steps. Hudson didn’t back off, which was hopeful. “I bet it gets lonely in the nurses’ building.”

He could pull off a better starting line, but he had little time and just one attempt. One wrong word – and it’s over.

“You don’t get to go to town often, I bet,” Vince continued. “And I fucking bet Dr. Duren doesn’t let you invite ladies over.”

He smiled and put his hand on Hudson’s chest. Hudson looked at it like it was an exotic bug – disgusting and dangerous, but somewhat captivating - and didn’t shake it off.

The fish was on the hook.

“I don’t go that way,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, please,” Vince rolled his eyes. “Everyone says this until they spend a couple months in an all-male facility.”

“I’ve been here way more than a couple months,” Hudson reminded him.

“Yeah, and look how high-strung you are. Gotta relieve all that tension once in a while, you know?”

“And you’re offering to help.” Hudson concluded dryly.

“Exactly.” Vince poked him in the chest. “And you won’t tell Dr. Duren what I was doing here.”

Hudson’s face was grim, but Vince could feel his hastened breath, his tense muscles under the nurse coat. He was almost there. Just one little push.

Vince slowly drew his hand down Hudson’s torso and stopped it in the area of his abdomen. Then he shot a quick glance at him through his lashes and smiled as charmingly as he could, hoping that the darkness would obscure the missing left molar.

“Fuck,” Hudson exhaled, turning his head away- in shame, probably. “You better be good at it.”

Vince didn’t need a clearer invitation. He dropped on his knees, unbuttoned Hudson’s pants and pulled them down in one swift, experienced move. He heard interesting things about black men’s lengths. Hudson might be mixed, but maybe that heritage persevered?..

Yeah, no, the white side won. But that was even good. Won’t have to choke.

Hudson quietly gasped when Vince swallowed his whole cock at once. It was only half-hard, so it was not difficult. Vince licked the head, tasting salty precum, and smiled.

“Yeah, I can tell it’s been a while.”

“Shut up,” Hudson exhaled and thrusted his hips forward. Vince didn’t protest. They did have little time. His skills weren’t really required – it was just speed and depth that counted.

And quick and deep it was. Vince moved his head back and forth so quickly his lips went numb and his neck hurt. Hudson got braver and braver throughout the whole process: first he didn’t even dare touch Vince, then put a hand on his head and carefully guided it, and soon finally lost control, grabbed Vince by the hair and began violently thrusting forward, leaving Vince to just close his eyes, suppress his gag reflex (which still existed, no matter what haters said) and finally take care of himself.

Hudson was so occupied he didn’t even notice Vince pulled out his own cock and began stroking it. Hudson at the same time was nearing the end, and Vince helped him with his tongue a bit until he finally groaned, bent forward and came. Hot liquid went down Vince’s throat, but some still leaked in the corners of his mouth. While Hudson stood still, gathering his breath, Vince finished himself, and it was good he was already on his knees because the relief surely would have made them buckle.

Vince tapped on Hudson’s thigh for attention, showed him his sperm-covered hand and slowly licked it.

“You are so fucking sick,” Hudson murmured, ashamedly pulling up his pants and tucking his dick in.

“And you like it,” Vince grinned. Hudson could act all disgusted and untouchable as he wanted – Vince heard him whimper like a bitch just a couple minutes ago, and they both would never forget it.

“Get up,” Hudson tried to speak harshly, but the tremble of a recent orgasm was still hiding in the undertone of his voice. “We’ve wasted too much time already. Ew, not on the robe!”

Vince continued wiping his sperm off his fingers on the hospital robe even more thoroughly, ignoring numerous rags in various stages of decay kept in the closet. Hudson winced and turned away.

When Vince tried to get up, his legs didn’t like the sudden change of position, and he almost fell onto a cabinet full of cracked dishes (why were they even keeping it?) were it not for Hudson who caught him by the sleeve.

“You want the whole asylum to hear?” he hissed, pulling Vince upright.

“Hey, I’d look at you go after kneeling for so long!” Vince protested. His legs felt like they were pierced by a thousand needles, making him grimace. But Hudson didn’t notice – or didn’t care – and dragged him out of the closet and into the hall. Then he made Vince hobble in front of him the whole way to the canteen, occasionally prodding him in the back to speed him up.

Right at the door Vince, ignoring a yet another prod, stopped and turned to Hudson.

“You remember our deal? No one says anything.”

“I do,” Hudson said through his teeth. “Go in already!”

Nikki was there alone, lazily wiping a table. His expression turned from boredom to a poorly concealed gloating, and Vince realised why Hudson came to the closet so untimely.

Oh, Nikki is gonna pay for this.

***

Mick watched Simmons escort Tommy away with a mixed feeling. He knew, of course, that Tommy wasn’t gonna see the doctor. He felt sorry for the guy, so young and clueless and naïve, torn out of his environment and thrown into a completely different one where everyone wanted to eat him and crack open his bones. But also Tommy was rather obnoxious with his “I’m too noble for this” attitude and unwillingness to work. Simmons sure was gonna show him that once you were here, it didn’t matter anymore. Especially considering they had cut Tommy some slack already, his fancy room and all.

While waiting for Nikki Mick crouched behind the bush and began picking up brown leaves off the ground and stringing them on the twigs of the bush, creating a nice little curtain behind which he couldn’t be seen. And there were no leaves on the ground anymore at the end, so he was cleaning, wasn’t he?

Voices of other patients blended in together at the distance, creating a nice little background hum that was as familiar to Mick as the sun rising every day. He always took the position a little bit away from the crowd, observing from the distance. For a while already there were no signs of anything, which was comforting, even if just for a little bit. Routine and stability were a good thing. Change – not so much.

Then he heard a voice he knew too well, and his chest released the tension it was holding. It was Nikki’s voice, which meant he finished his canteen shift without issues. Mick peered from behind the bush and saw Michael point in his direction and Nikki head towards his bush with a springy step, waving the shovel in his hand back and forth. He looked… energized, which Mick hadn’t seen since Wharton dumped him. And it could only mean one thing.

“Don’t tell me you got back with him,” Mick said sharply when Nikki crouched next to him. “Don’t fucking tell me.”

Nikki’s face fell a bit.

“How could you tell?”

“You’re excited for the first time in weeks.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Nikki tried to make an innocent face. It was not very convincing.

“It wouldn’t be if I didn’t know the last time you were that excited was when you were hooking up with Wharton.”

Nikki sighed, looked away. “Why do you even notice these things? Don’t you have other things to do?”

“That’s what I do. Observe,” Mick said. “So. Who initiated it?”

“He did.”

“I fucking knew it.” Mick rubbed his eyes. “You see? He comes back to you when his balls get a little too full. Once they are empty he’ll dump you again.”

“Well,” Nikki suddenly grinned slyly, “I hope I did teach him a lesson that dumping me is a bad idea.”

Mick blinked in confusion, then in horror. “A lesson? God, what did you do?”

“Let’s just say… I showed him how it feels to be used.”

No amount of further questioning could get anything except mysterious smiles out of Nikki. Mick had a very bad feeling about this. Whatever revenge Nikki enacted, Wharton would never let it go unpunished.

Wharton, by the way. Where was he?

Mick had to change his position and hide behind another bush (this one, unfortunately, without a leaf curtain) to see Wharton. He was in the middle of the patient crowd, respectfully given space of about ten feet in a circle around him, scooping leaves from the ground one by one with his shovel and slowly, distractedly pile them up in a heap next to himself. Hudson watched him with an understandably sour face.

The sheer fact that Wharton worked at all was already strange. He would usually leave the peasants to it and set to rest somewhere under a tree, harass a good-looking patient, or, as of late, hide in the bushes with Nikki. The nurses knew better than to force him to work. Yet today he obliged. Was that the effect of Nikki’s revenge?

Oh god, this was gonna be bad. Very bad.

“Whatcha looking at?” Nikki followed him to the bush. “Ogling Vince, huh? I mean, he’s not in his best shape but there’s still a lot to look at-“

“He doesn’t look happy at your reunion,” Mick interrupted him.

“Oh, he’s just pissed at learning my lesson. He’ll get over it when, as you said, his balls fill up.”

Mick rolled his eyes. When Nikki was in this mood, it was impossible to make him treat something seriously, just as during his depressive episodes it was impossible to convince him to take things more lightly. His manic depression completely erased his middle ground; he was only capable of extremes.

Eventually they were shooed away from the bush closer to the patient crowd because McKagan couldn’t keep an eye on them and other patients at the same time. Wharton didn’t try to confront Nikki; he scarcely spared him a look. Before the canteen duty today Mick would rejoice. Now he only grew warier.

And so time passed until lunch, when they were gathered into pairs and ushered to the canteen. Wharton walked in the very back alone, at a sizeable distance from the rest. Mick saw him pull Hudson by the arm and say something to him with a sleazy smile, to which Hudson responded with a shove in the side that didn’t seem to discourage Wharton in any way whatsoever. Hudson must have lost a draw among nurses on who would herd Wharton today, now that he was finally out of the padded cell. Mick felt sorry for him. For Hudson, of course.

Tommy didn’t show up at lunch, which was slightly concerning – Simmons certainly hadn’t arranged a meeting with the doctor for him, but Mick hoped his special status would have helped him get away with it relatively unscathed. But that was not what worried him the most.

And he turned out to be right in his worry. Because just as lunch began, Wharton got up from the table, came up to Nikki and dumped a whole plate of soup over his head. Thankfully, the soup had already gone cold, but Nikki was still unpleasantly surprised. He shook his head, sending carrot and potato pieces flying, and dumped his own plate on Wharton.

Then the two, wet and greasy, began rolling on the floor trying to choke each other. Mick couldn’t break up the fight even if he wanted to because of his back, and while nurses were gathering their wits to intervene Nikki caught one in the eye and Wharton lost some of his hair. Then the nurses dragged them away from each other, and the only thing they had left was sending each other angry gazes.

The nurses took them right to Dr. Duren, and everyone continued eating as if nothing had happened. Under Duren, who harshly punished violence of any kind, fights were rarer but not unheard of. But Nikki and Wharton never fought before, even though their relationship was rather turbulent. Did it mean the end of it? Mick sure hoped so. If a cold plate of soup dumped on him couldn’t bring Nikki back to his senses and make him cut all ties with the bastard, nothing could.

Mick sighed, shook off a carrot that had landed on his sleeve and got down to his soup.

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 17

Word count: 3741 Warnings: slightly nsfw A/N: the worst of school is over so have a celebratory update

It’s been three days and Nikki still hadn’t gotten back to him.

It was good, of course. Vince’s knees grew a scab and itched violently, and he could barely hold back from scratching on it, knowing it would nullify all the healing process. The shoulder injury, thankfully, seemed to heal well: the inflammation around it almost went away.

Vince wished Nikki just did it already. He jumped at any steps behind the galley door, whenever he was on deck he avoided looking in Nikki’s direction, and every time Vince had to hand the captain his plate everything froze in him. Waiting was worse than just going through it: a couple hours were not even close to days of anxiety so strong his hands were constantly trembling, threatening to drop whatever he was holding.

The bout of shame in Mick went away as quickly as it came. He was just as cold and sardonic, and no amount of appeasement could get through to him. The atmosphere in the galley quickly became unbearable: Mick only spoke to bark out orders and scold Vince for smallest mistakes. Whatever Vince did, it was never good enough. He lost the only person on board who treated him with a shred of kindness, and now, despite the hot breezes and scorching sun of the Atlantic ocean, he was constantly shivering. Axl pretended they didn’t know each other, Izzy was constantly in sick bay, Slash could only tell him a couple of words during meals, and even Tommy barely spared Vince a look and scarcely any sleazy remarks. Everyone on the ship seemed too busy to pay him any attention, but fragments of conversations Vince caught he couldn’t piece together. The only thing he knew was that something was coming.

Then, one day, Tommy came to the galley.

“Mick. We need you in the cabin.”

“Oh.” Mick rose from his bed, where he was lazily stringing his guitar while Vince slaved over the pile of dishes. “Already?”

“Yeah.”

“What – already?” Vince couldn’t help but ask. He felt like a conspiracy was unfolding around him.

“None of your business, doll. You keep on with the dishes.”

Of course. What other answer could he get?

“After you’re done with dishes, peel potatoes. At least fifteen. And don’t cut off half of it with the skin!” Mick ordered.

“Yessir,” Vince sighed.

Alright. They want to keep secrets from him? Well, good luck with that.

He waited a bit after Mick and Tommy were gone, splashing the water in the bucket especially loudly, and then creeped across the galley to the door. He waited by it a bit, putting his ear to the keyhole, but didn’t hear anything. Then he carefully pressed on the doorknob.

It stopped halfway down. Locked! They locked him in! Bastards!

Maybe, Vince had to admit when he disappointedly returned to the dishes, they have learned more about his character than he wanted them to. He should be more discreet.

From the galley he could only hear splashing of the waves. Then a vibration went through the ship, and the constant movement that could be felt even inside it ceased. Have they arrived somewhere? Was that why they locked him in – didn’t want him to escape?

But Vince behaved well in Port Royal. And hadn’t given any reason to doubt his submission since then. That meant they still didn’t trust him enough. That he needed to act better, pretend harder. But he was already at his limit. The next stage would be fawning for Nikki, and he couldn’t imagine that even in his worst nightmares.

Dismay washed over him. Whatever he did, it was never enough.

He could hear the pirates on deck yelling something, dropping heavy things and running around. His curiosity was burning him from the inside. Potatoes also refused to cooperate, which only added insult to injury.

Then everything went quiet. Not the average quiet. Even the waves seemed to calm down, the ship almost still in the water. Like the world was listening to something Vince couldn’t hear. And it was driving him nuts.

It lasted fairly long – Vince peeled all the potatoes, even sliced them out of boredom. He returned to the door in a futile attempt to hear anything. Then his gaze fell on the knife he was holding in his hand. Hm, the tip was pretty thin…

He was so consumed with trying to push the tip of the knife through the lock he only heard voices when they were right behind the door. He staggered back and landed right on his behind, knife in hand.

That’s how Mick and Tommy found him.

“Oh, someone’s been trying to get out?” Tommy grinned unpleasantly and turned to Mick. “Looks like we’ll have to secure him better the next time.”

“Yeah,” Mick said, looking at Vince from under half-closed eyelids. “Looks like I was too hasty to trust him with a knife, too.”

He stretched out a hand, and Vince obediently handed him the knife. He couldn’t justify his actions in any way, really, so he didn’t even try.

“Make sure he doesn’t leave the galley, Mick,” Tommy continued as if Vince wasn’t there. “I’ll get you some… tools for that.”

“I will.”

Tommy left, leaving behind more questions than answers. Bitterness filled Vince’s chest. What did he do that warranted such a punishment? Last three days he’d been on his best behavior. While Mick didn’t seem to soften towards him in a slightest and scolded him for every little mistake, even those were getting less frequent. Vince didn’t touch the weapons, didn’t talk rude to anyone and did what he was told. What was it then?

“What are you punishing me for?” he asked, hurt and anger mixing inside him.

Mick looked at him gloomily.

“Existing,” he said then and turned away, and no further questioning managed to get something else out of him. It was as if Vince was talking to a wall. Eventually he gave up trying, being left alone with his thoughts.

Not allowed on deck. No feeling the sun’s hot rays on his face and warm breezes on his skin. Was it for long? Was it connected to the strange occurrence of today? And what “tool” were they talking about?

He had his dinner all alone in the galley that day. On the one hand, he didn’t have to avoid Nikki’s gazes again. On the other, he couldn’t even exchange a couple words with anyone. Not that he had a lot of friends on the Shout, but Slash and Duff were rather friendly towards him, Axl too when they were alone, Tommy’s jokes were sometimes funny and even Izzy nodded to him those rare times he left his cave. The only person remaining in the galley was Mick, and he didn’t seem too eager to take mercy on Vince. It was like cohabitating in an extremely tiny space with a very angry hedgehog. And even he was absent now, handing out portions on deck. Upon his return, Vince knew, he’d have to wash a damn lot of dishes.

When Mick returned and placed a tall pile of plates on the counter, Vince decided to try again.

“Mick,” he said carefully, “please, tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Mick cut off.

“If it didn’t concern me, you wouldn’t lock me up in the galley.”

“Alright, I’ll phrase is differently.” Mick rolled his eyes. “Nothing that we consider you fit to learn about.”

“So it does concern me,” Vince concluded. Judging by the shift in Mick’s expression, he was right. Unfortunately, the shift was from mildly irritated to outright angry.

Mick stretched out his hand and, before Vince realized what he was about to do, grabbed him by the hair and dragged closer. Was he Nikki, Vince would have been prepared to such a sudden violent outburst. But that was Mick.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, punk,” he hissed in Vince’s ear. “There are things that slaves don’t need to know. Remember, curiosity killed the cat.” And he pushed Vince away so hard he staggered back and crashed into the wall.

Mick turned around and stormed out of the galley, leaving Vince alone again. He slid down the wall onto the floor.

The hair yank didn’t hurt much, but Vince would prefer Nikki beating him up half-dead. Maybe Mick wasn’t so different from other pirates after all.

Mick returned very late: Vince had already done all the work and laid down to sleep, wrapping himself in a ragged blanket. When Mick came through the door, Vince pretended he was asleep. Mick lingered in the door - a typical chill that his gaze always caused ran down Vince’s spine - and sneaked to his bed. After some tossing and turning he went quiet.

No, all that fuss was definitely about Vince. Or about something the pirates really didn’t want him to know. Which meant he absolutely had to find out what it was.

Next morning the ship set sail again and swayed on the waves as usual. Mick locked him in the galley again during breakfast, this time taking the knife with him. At this point Vince was so sick of small spaces that the walls seemed to close in on him. But no amount of fiddling with the lock yielded any results. Maybe the locks on the door of the galley were made sturdier on purpose, to keep the pirates away from the alcohol stash?

Mick returned with a load of dishes and orders. He left the galley door unlocked when he was inside, but Vince didn’t dare to take even a smallest extra step towards the door. It might seem Mick wasn’t watching him, but that was only an illusion.

After what seemed like eternity but was likely just a couple hours Axl walked into the galley.

“Hey, Mick,” he said, not sparing Vince a single glance, “the captain wants a mug of beer.”

“Pour him one,” Mick ordered to Vince. Vince hurried to do the task. He tried to catch Axl’s gaze, but the ginger pointedly stared above his head. Warm beer foamed in the mug.

“I’m needed on deck,” Axl said suddenly. “Send the boy over with the beer.”

And he shot Vince a quick glance.

Mick narrowed his eyes. “If you’re so busy, why’d he send you then?”

“I was the closest,” Axl said calmly. “But the wind’s changing, I gotta be up there. Don’t have time to be a delivery guy, sorry.”

“I’ll do it then.” Mick rose from the bed. Axl’s lower lip twitched.

Then he smiled wide. “You’re even less of a delivery guy than me, Mick. Save yourself the trouble. We’ve got a perfect man for the job right here.”

“The slave ain’t leaving the galley,” Mick cut off, approached and grabbed the mug.

Axl frowned. “Why? Did he do something?”

“Yeah.” Every inch of Mick’s face signaled that he didn’t want the conversation to continue, and Axl seemingly decided not to tempt fate anymore.

“As you wish.” He shrugged and headed to the door after Mick, but in the second when the cook disappeared behind it turned back to Vince. His face was saying: “I tried.”

Well, at least someone noticed his absence, Vince thought bitterly. The lock behind Axl clicked. For God’s sake, Mick would be absent just for a couple minutes! What harm would Vince be able to cause in that time that demanded locking him in?

By lunch he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mick.” Vince lowered a plate on the table with an audible bang to attract his attention. Mick raised his gaze, surprised.

“Huh?”

“If I don’t use the head right now, I’m gonna take a shit right in your favorite pot.”

Up until now he made do with an empty bottle of rum he found behind the counter, but this time it wouldn’t work.

Vince watched Mick’s face go through a series of expression, from confused to annoyed.

“Damn it. I haven’t considered that,” he muttered.

“You should. The clock is ticking.” Vince usually didn’t talk to Mick like that, but it was an emergency.

“But you can’t-“ Mick paused, thinking. “What if I just- no, he’d contaminate the food,” he murmured to himself. Of course, he wouldn’t let Vince do it right in his beloved galley. Even if it wasn’t in his favorite pot.

“Mick. I can’t hold it much longer,” he said. It was almost true. He wanted to check something – to see how long Mick would hesitate. What was more important to him – his precious galley or the secret they were trying to keep from Vince?

The galley won, as Vince expected.

“Fine.” Mick rose from his bed. “I’m going with you. No lingering. And-“ he bent over his chest and pulled out a bandana, “come here.”

When his hands again touched Vince’s hair, he flinched. But Mick just gathered stray strands together, tucked his hair behind his back under the fabric of his shirt and tied the bandana over Vince’s head. “Now that’s better.”

“Why’d you-“ Vince reached for the bandana, but Mick slapped his hand away.

“No talking. No looking around. There and back. And if the captain sees us… you’ll have it bad. Not me. You.”

“As always,” Vince grumbled, following Mick to the door. Curiosity tormented him almost as bad as his physical desires.

But the deck looked as usual. The pirates were working and quietly chatting, the sails fluttered in the wind, the waves gently parted in front of the Shout. Neither Tommy nor Nikki were on deck, and Mick seemed relieved as much as Vince was. Maybe they were having sex in the captain’s cabin right now, he thought. Well, good luck to them.

“Go, go, go,” Mick hissed, dragging Vince to the head. There he stood in front of him, depriving him of the smallest shred of privacy, for the whole process. Not that it bothered Vince much at this point, but that was something he expected from any pirate but Mick. He seemed… more civil than the rest. Well, had seemed.

“Quicker!” Mick barked, looking around anxiously. Vince didn’t have to be told twice: he was already doing his best. Mick barely gave him time to pull up his pants, grasped him by the arm and dragged back to the hatch.

Before he pushed Vince in, Vince turned his head to catch the last breath of fresh air and noticed a silhouette on the horizon.

Another ship.

***

Another night passed. Vince tried to play the bowel movements card again in the evening, but this time Mick was adamant. You keep on shitting like a horse, he said, I’ll just stop feeding you. Vince didn’t ask anymore.

He had a solitary breakfast in the galley again. Well, it could barely be called that. Mick took the porridge with him, leaving Vince with a stale crust of bread and a thin piece of cheese. But Vince had already learned to appreciate the smallest things. It was better than nothing, after all, and it sated his growling stomach for a while.

He wondered how long he would be kept a prisoner of the galley. At this point he wasn’t even scared of being summoned by Nikki anymore. It would be a change of scenery, at least, and he might be able to learn something about the ship on the horizon. Vince was pretty sure it wasn’t an illusion or hallucination: as many reasons as he had to distrust his own judgement, he still trusted his eyes.

The lock clicked. Vince raised his eyes, expecting Mick to barge in with a pile of plates, but it wasn’t him.

It was Nikki.

Vince’s throat went dry. He shouldn’t have thought about him so carelessly. Fate struck back immediately.

Now that the captain was again in front of him, Vince remembered every detail, every word; they went foggy in his memory over these days, and now he wasn’t sure he’d still prefer Nikki to the imprisonment in the galley. Apparently, though, he got both.

And… a chain with a cuff and a lock in Nikki’s hands. Was that for Vince?

“Vinnie.” Nikki sent him a toothy smile. “Idling again, you spoiled brat?”

“Sir.” Vince bowed his head, avoiding looking at the captain. “Mick hasn’t left any orders.”

“When he comes back, I’ll make sure to fix that,” Nikki promised, coming up to the counter. Vince, who was sitting on his bed, tensed up. Nikki looked much fresher than the last time Vince saw him, but there was a strange sharpness in his movements, very much unlike his usual lazy manner. Like he was vigilant for something.

“You won’t have to, he does that just fine himself.”

“Judging by your audacity, not enough.” Nikki carefully lay the chain on the counter, straightened it, moved the cuff slightly and tilted his head, enjoying the view. Vince knew this whole performance was for him. Now there was no doubt who the chain was intended for.

What did I do to deserve this, a bitter thought once again crossed his mind. Did he not satisfy Nikki enough? But it was Nikki who hadn’t summoned him all these days. Was Vince supposed to take the lead? No way in hell.

Nikki moved so close to him his boots were inches from Vince’s face. Vince shrank his head into his shoulders, expecting a kick. But Nikki got down on his knees and was now at face level with him. Vince didn’t feel much safer, though.

“Nice bandana,” he said. Vince had decided not to take it off because it really helped get his hair out of the way when cooking, but now he regretted it. What if Nikki guessed Mick once let him out of the galley? “Where’d you get it?”

“Mick gave it to me. To keep hair out of the eyes.”

Well, it was fifty percent true. Could be worse.

“Good. I’m tired of pulling blonde hair out of my soup.” Nikki reached out his hand and cupped Vince’s jaw, almost gently. A chill ran down Vince’s spine. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. Did you miss me?”

Oh, the question with no right answers. So Vince said nothing.

“Well?” Nikki’s grip on his chin tightened.

“You know the answer,” Vince murmured. He expected a violent reaction, but Nikki just smiled.

“I do.” He stood up and signed to Vince to do the same. Vince mustered up his courage. He had to learn what was going on, and nobody knew that better than Nikki.

“Sir,” he began, “what did I do wrong?”

“You?” Nikki said thoughtfully. “Do you want it in alphabetical order or by date?”

“What did I do wrong to deserve this?” Vince clarified. His stomach cramped from anxiety. “I haven’t seen the light of day for three days, and I have no idea why. If that’s a punishment, then it’s not very effective if I don’t know what I’m being punished for.”

“That’s the point.” Nikki grinned. “You should very carefully consider everything you did and make your own conclusions. You ain’t got a governess anymore: you gotta think on your own.”

He was evading answers like an eel in a pond evades capture. So Vince decided to try another tactics.

“Sir,” he said as piteously as he could, “please. I just want to not have to piss into a bottle. Please tell me how I can fix my mistakes.”

Nikki grinned again, and Vince didn’t like that grin at all.

Then he was bent face down over the counter, right next to the chain, cheek pressing into cool wood, a knee between his thighs. Nikki wrung his arm up behind his back so that any movement caused Vince pain, and he could do nothing else but stay still and listen to Nikki’s heavy breathing that warmed the skin of his neck. That was the only way it was going to go, he mused unexpectedly calmly. Finally Nikki came to collect the debt.

“The view is very nice from up here,” Nikki purred. His warm hand slid into Vince’s pants and squeezed his buttock. Vince inhaled sharply. “You know what would make it nicer, though?”

Vince felt fingers untying the bandana on his head. Then the fabric wrapped around his throat. Nikki slowly pulled up the ends of it until Vince’s arm pressed into his chest, then planted a wet kiss under Vince’s ear.

“You scream or cry – I’ll shove this rag into your mouth,” Nikki whispered into his ear. “I want you to be quiet and docile and take everything I do to you like a good boy. You do that – you’ll go back on deck. Agreed?”

“What, right here?” Vince whispered back.

“Yeah, why not? Not like you’re cooking anything anyway.”

“But Mick won’t-“

The door opened. There he stood, his guardian angel: Mick himself. Very, very pissed guardian angel.

“He’s here!” he threw to someone behind his shoulder. When Mick stepped forward, Vince recognized Tommy.

“What the hell, Sixx!” he said indignantly. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“I’m kinda busy here,” Nikki replied, displeased. “Can’t a man get some rest?”

“Right now? You’re nuts, dude.” Tommy crossed his arms on his chest. “Hetfield was looking for you. Wanted to go over the plan one more time.”

“We’ve done it like a hundred times already,” Nikki said through his teeth but released Vince. The bandana fell to the floor, and Vince dropped on his knees and crawled away, back to his bed, grabbing it on his way. Who the hell was Hetfield? And what plan were they talking about?

“You two are such killjoys,” Nikki grumbled. Then he turned to Vince and, seeing him crouch on his blanket, smiled.

They headed to the door, but then Nikki stopped, as if he remembered something.

“Oh yeah. I forgot.” He returned to the counter and picked up the chain, shattering Vince’s hopes that he’d forget. “Your hand.”

Vince didn’t move. It didn’t have any effect of Nikki, though. He bent down to him, grabbed him by the left arm and dragged to the wooden post in the middle of the galley. Vince didn’t resist. What was the point?

Nikki chained him to it and stepped back, smiling. Vince gave him a sullen look.

He, Mick and Tommy turned around and left, leaving Vince with more questions than answers and rage bubbling inside his chest.

[arnold-layne]

Hi!! I recently found you through a friend’s recommendation, and I absolutely love your work! So I was wondering if you had any recommendations of your fics? Cause they’re just so good and there’s a lot of them I just don’t know where to start!

aw thank you so much! also you should high five your friend, they have good taste 🤭

recommendations... well, i love all my children equally but some of them are better fit to start with than the others

many know my work by my three-year-lasting epic pirate au in darkness shall you be reborn, which i recommend reading on ao3 because i haven't updated the masterlist in quite a while. it's pretty indicative of my style and preferences and even shows my craft progress through the years

then there is we, the psychos, which has been going on since 2019 and which i recently picked up again. apart from ch. 1 & 2 it's all been written over the last month so like, the latest, the freshest of my writing

another pretty recent work is as we were falling, which i only posted to tumblr and not ao3. i wrote it in the middle of a writing block and the quality is not that good but it's a decent wip that i hope to continue

if you want a finished fic, then i have only one suggestion for you, and it's ex malo bonum. written pretty long ago in mania-like state over a month. it's pretty old and many forgot about it which i think is unfair it's pretty good

not sure if you want any of my original works, but just in case you do, here's my recent sci-fi short story Bloodeaters

and of course i can't forget the fic that still gets me the majority of "please update" comments, What Is Lost, What Is Found. it's my first real attempt at english writing, and it will probably show, but people love it

now we're getting deeper in arnold lore. i'm an avid fan of red dead redemption 2, which brought yall this fic: the wild, the wayward and the wicked. still hope to come back to it at some point

im also an even more avid fan of the fallout franchise, which, by analogy, birthed this fic: war?

the rest of my writing are mostly oneshots and sketches, and you can find most of them on my masterlist. it hasn't been updated in a while but i seem to have covered the major changes

[vincess-princess]

I LOVE the new pirate AU chapter, thank you for it! But now I really want to punch Tommy tbh xD Involving Vince seems like a great idea to me 😂

well, better luck next time 👀

[vincess-princess]

I found it

Are u going to finish What is Lost what is found?

Please i'm beggin

idk honestly. this fic has been lying untouched for 5 years at this point, and im too busy with other wips now, plus school is being a bitch

maybe i’ll come back to it one day, i still think about it from time to time and the idea hasn’t lost its appeal to me

probably not in the foreseeable future, though

meanwhile you can read other fics that i have! there are quite a few :)

[vincess-princess]

WHAT ABOUT THE AU WHERE MICKS A WORKER OF HIS OWN MUSIC STORE, HE FOUND TOMMY, VINCE AND NIKKI WHEN THEY ARE TEENAGERS AND IDK I FORGOT

I was in love with that au, i still feel like it's a very interesting world

Thres so much to explore

Sorry 4 my English, i'm peruvian so i do My Best 😔

hey anon don’t yell calm down

it is an interesting concept which i unfortunately underexplored

your english is alright!

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 16

Word count: 2241 Warnings: none A/N: you would not fucking believe this

The entire day Mick remained cold and unfriendly, only addressing Vince to bark out orders, and by evening Vince began to consider apologizing just not to feel so overwhelmingly lonely. But he wasn’t desperate enough yet. Maybe in a couple hours.

They had the usual for dinner, with an exception of a bit stale but still soft bread. Vince almost shed a tear when his teeth didn’t meet the usual resistance of a crunchy ship’s biscuit. Truly one never knew what simple joys of life were until he was deprived of them.

“You already munchin’? And who’s gonna bring the captain his dinner, huh?” Mick snatched the piece of bread out of Vince’s mouth. “Damn slacker. Do your goddamn job first.” He shoved a tray into Vince’s hands and watched him reluctantly fill it with food, ruthlessly ignoring his pleading looks. Vince didn’t know Mick could be so cruel - but he was a pirate, after all. Cruelty in this job was a given, and Mick just hadn’t revealed his immediately.

Resigned to his fate, Vince shuffled across the deck to the captain’s cabin. His hands were full, so he had to kick the door instead of knocking on it. A couple minutes passed, but nobody opened. Was he even there? Vince didn’t see him on the deck, but the ship was big. Maybe he was busy with some captain stuff somewhere down in the hold. Vince really hoped he was. He wasn’t ready to face the captain today one more time.

Vince kicked the door again one last time and already turned around to leave when it opened in front of him, making him almost drop the tray.

Nikki was standing in the doorframe stark naked. Not only that, he also had a raging hard-on.

”Ah, it’s you,” he said in the most casual tone. “Quite in time. Come in, come in.”

“I’m just gonna leave this here.” Vince dropped the tray in front of the door and tried to flee, but then his forearm got caught in an iron grasp, eliminating any hope of an escape.

“You ain’t going anywhere, punk. Pick that up and bring it in.” Nikki nodded at the tray. There was so much steel in his voice Vince just silently obeyed. Nikki didn’t lean forward when Vince awkwardly tried to reach for the tray; even when he almost flipped it over trying to hold it with one hand, the captain still didn’t weaken the grasp. Only once Vince was inside the cabin and the door lock clicked behind his back did Nikki release him.

“Hi, princess,” said someone from behind his back, making Vince almost drop the tray again. He turned around and saw Tommy sitting cross-legged on the bed, also fully naked. Thankfully, his pose prevented Vince from seeing the supposedly private parts of his body (the pirates clearly didn’t have the same distinctions, though). The sheets were crumpled in a specific, easily recognizable way, wet spots scattered across the fabric. Was it stupid to hope Nikki had spare ones?

“Am I interrupting you?” Vince said weakly, his eyes dashing between the two pirates. He began to slowly make his way to the table. Someone’s breeches sprawled on the floor wrapped around his ankle, and he spent too much time trying to shake them off, all the while being watched by two naked pirates, scarred and tattooed all over. Tommy, as it turned out, even had a ring in his nipple. It must have hurt to get it done, Vince thought briefly, putting the tray on the table.

“No, not at all,” Nikki’s voice, deep, breathy and unbearably close, said in his ear, and then his body pressed against Vince’s back, boxing him in by the table. “I’d even say, you’re a great addition.” His hand slid up Vince’s side and onto his waist, hot even through the fabric of his shirt. Vince tried to concentrate on this hotness instead of the hotness pressing into his hip, but it didn’t really work.

Damn it. He shouldn’t have come here. Whatever enraged Mick could do to him for shirking his responsibilities, it couldn’t be worse than this.

“He is?” Tommy suddenly said. He sounded like he tried very hard to appeal nonchalant. “We were kinda in a process of something here, Nik.”

Vince blinked in confusion. Since when did Tommy not want him “in the process”, after all the dirty jokes and pinches and groping?

“Yeah, and? You think we’d have to tie him up again or something? Don’t worry, he’s made progress since the first time. Right?” He hooked a finger under Vince’s collar on the small of his neck and pulled on it, cutting short a shaky breath Vince was drawing.

“You misunderstood me. Hey, Vinnie, there are two of us here. Go get a second tray, and me and Nikki meanwhile will have a little talk.”

“Oh. A talk, then,” Nikki said unexpectedly coldly. “Very well.” He stepped back, releasing Vince. “Go get the tray, as my dearest first mate told you. And-” he gripped Vince’s jaw, digging his fingernails into the skin of his cheeks, “-just you try not coming back. Just you try.”

Vince was out of the cabin in a blink of an eye. Tarrying would probably make Nikki angry, but he still spent some time leaning against the door eavesdropping. Something very interesting just happened there, and Vince was dying of curiosity.

However, the door was too thick, and he could only hear unintelligible humming coming from the other side. It did sound pretty tense, though. Were they arguing?

Thankfully, Mick was still on deck, handing out portions to the remaining pirates. Vince eyed him for a while, considering his odds. What would be worse – whatever Nikki wanted to do to him when he returned, or his anger if Vince involved Mick in all this? Provided, of course, that Mick would relent and agree to be involved first.

Vince’s eyes met Mick’s, and his heart dropped: the gaze of the old pirate immediately turned cold and surly.

“What are you waiting for? We’re not done yet!” His harsh tone made Vince flinch. “You keep rambling around doing jackshit, you won’t earn any dinner!”

Vince walked towards him slowly, trying to formulate a request that wouldn’t make him sound utterly pathetic. “Mick, Nikki and Tommy are having sex and want me to join, can you come with me and stop them”? It would be less shameful to just let Nikki and Tommy actually fuck him. Maybe he should turn back- but Mick was already looking at him inquiringly, with his eyebrow raised, and what would be worse, trying or running away?

“Tommy sent me to get another portion,” Vince finally said, pushing the tray forward. “He’s there with Nikki. They- they-“ he closed his eyes, stopped to take a breath but before he could say anything else a crooked grin widened on Mick’s face.

“Oh, I know that look,” he said. “What, the captain wants to shag you again? Now with the first mate, too? And what do you want me to do? Take your place? ‘M afraid it’s not gonna work. I’m not exactly his type. And even if I was… it’s your duty, not mine. Can’t help you here, sorry. The portion for Tommy, though, that’s my field of expertise. Gimme.” He pulled the tray out of Vince’s numb hands and swiftly filled it with food. “You better hurry now. You don’t want them to get mad, right?”

Vince didn’t listen to his advice. He stood there for a good minute, staring dumbly at Mick’s back. His brain felt like thick dough: slow, heavy, sticky.

Mick was right, of course. He couldn’t exactly replace Vince there.

Vince turned around and on unbending legs tottered across the deck, back to the captain’s cabin. This time the door opened after just one kick.

Nikki’s lips stretched into a pleased smirk. “Told you he’d come back,” he said into the room. “As I said, we’ve made progress.”

Vince threw the tray onto the table next to the other one. The mug of beer swayed dangerously, but didn’t flip over. Tommy and Nikki watched him again, but it was different now. That time they were cats and Vince was a mouse; this time, they were onlookers at a fair and Vince was a monkey in a cage. The atmosphere changed. To the better or worse, Vince couldn’t say, just that it was different.

“Do you still need me here?” he asked directly. Whatever was going to happen, he wanted it over as soon as possible.

“No. Not today,” Tommy replied. Relief washed over Vince. “Some other time. It will definitely happen, though, so don’t get high hopes, princess.”

“I’m not,” Vince said. He knew that the respite was short, that he wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever, that Nikki could call him in the very next day, but it was still a relief, a promise of another relatively painless night, a few more hours to heal his wounds. God, the joys of life truly were simple. “I’ll be on my way then.” He headed to the door, trying to balance the speed around that of a lively stroll instead of a hounded animal.

“You sure you don’t want him here?” Nikki suddenly asked Tommy when Vince was halfway there. Vince froze to his place, partly out of fear, partly because they’d drag him back anyway if they wished, and he preferred his humiliation to stay behind closed doors. “I can gag him, you won’t even notice he’s here.”

“I am.” Tommy cast him a grim look. “If I wanted a threesome, I’d say so from the start.”

“Fine, fine.” Nikki raised his hands in surrender. “Unfortunately, Mr. Lee here put you out of work tonight,” he said to Vince, “but don’t get too comfortable there, princess. Now leave us alone with our… business.”

“With pleasure.” Vince’s last shreds of dignity went into this reply, after which nothing was stopping him from leaping to the door like a scared out of its mind hare. The grins of the two wolves watching him were imprinted on his brain for the rest of the day.

Vince returned to the deck with a springy step (he tried skipping, but his knees protested loudly). He expected all the portions to have been handed out already – between his running back and forth half the dinnertime had already passed – but when he gingerly approached Mick, a plate with cold beef, a piece of cheese and a slice of bread was shoved into his hands.

“That was quick. So do our illustrious captain and his first mate have the stamina of schoolboys?” Mick laughed sharply – the high-strung kind of sharp.

“They didn’t want me this time,” Vince said, the last part of his sentence unintelligible due to the beef in his mouth. “To make me happy about not getting invited to a threesome, though – that’s a real feat. Never thought it’d happen, but life sure is unpredictable.”

“Are you talking like that with Nikki’s, hm, beef in your mouth too? Then no wonder they sent you off. Shut up and chew properly,” Mick cut him off. Vince would have resented him for it if he didn’t sense the guilty undertone in his commanding voice. “I damn like not having to do the dishes every day,” he then added, and Vince did resent him after that.

He and Mick were gathering the plates to take them to the galley when Vince noticed Slash approach. He was avoiding him all day, which was rather hard as Slash seemed to appear everywhere Vince went. Usually Vince just resolved the problem by getting out of that place as fast as possible, but that time he was holding a pot filled with plates and had an already irritated cook behind his back, so there was no way out.

Slash came up and carefully lowered his plate into the pot.

“Thanks for dinner, Mick,” he said loudly to him. Mick murmured something in response. “Thanks for showing me the moves, Vince,” he said to Vince quietly. “You alright?”

“Never been better,” Vince wanted to wave his hand, but timely remembered it was occupied, so he had to do with an enthusiastic nod.

“Yeah? The captain looked mighty pissed when he dragged you away. And I still don’t understand why. He puts up all these trainings so all the crewmates can protect themselves better,” Slash said, and Vince could hear the genuine bewilderment in his voice. Did they really not realize Nikki definitely didn’t consider him a crewmate?

“Well, that’s because he’s the one I need to protect myself against, I guess.” Vince shrugged, resorting to things that the whole crew was well-aware of. Mick coughed behind his back. “But I didn’t say that, of course,” he added hastily.

“Slash, you’re holding up the line,” Mick said loudly. “You want to get all chitty-chatty with my scullery boy, you’ll have to go down to the galley. He could always use a hand with the dishes, y’know.”

“Oh, come on,” Slash rolled his eyes, then gave Vince a small nod and scooted away. “The line” consisted of just two pirates, so soon they were back at the galley, and the Babel tower of dishes was staring Vince in the eyes once again. And also sneering at him and jeering, but that was probably the beer talking.