hardlydead | (( them gods gonna hurt you son; when you play with a loaded gun ))

[ the strain on his neck gets his attention for once. david's trying to kill him. no - he's trying to get him to let go by threatening to kill him. both thoughts clash in his head as violently as he's fighting with david. he's trying to kill him. he should be trying to kill him. evan should be trying to do the same -

as the attention focuses on the pair of them, people move in on the headquarters. infiltrating the place. taking down people too distracted by one thing or another, or the fight outside, to realize what's happening. work that neither one of them could ever do, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how much it burns them.

evan snarls something vulgar and lets go, ripping himself free from david's grip and instantly going for a beatdown. still trying to get him on his back and then smash whatever he can see into a pulp, or get his hands around david's throat to choke him out enough to make him recoil. do something. do something to make him regret. do something to make him glare up at evan with something other than smug confidence and the self-knowledge of who's about to win, here. something. anything. ]

[ the thought that evan might be even more relentless than he is goes through david's head, makes something in him twist and writhe violently. there's no way. there's no fucking way. ]

[ the reason they're here is, at this point, a distant thought at best. it'll come back to him eventually. maybe. when somebody rips them away from one another, maybe they'll remember. all he can think right now is if he lets evan get that kind of upper hand, it'll be a lot of hard work to get out of. and as much as he's not paying attention to their audience, it doesn't mean david's forgotten they're there. taking a beating like that, in front of all these people? if he can avoid it, he sure fucking will. ]

[ when evan's grip lets up, when he pulls himself free, david rolls to his front instead to try and push himself up to his feet. if evan jumps him here, it'll be easier to deal with at least. ]

[ every attempt to get david down, other than actually getting him on the ground, has failed. and now he's trying to flatten himself to protect his vitals. his face. evan tries not to completely lose his shit - or at least what's left of it - in the wake of this. everything he does, david tries to undo. tries to one-up him on.

so he lets david roll and push up and as david pushes up, evan slams an elbow down onto him. low enough that he hopes with every ounce of rage in him that it hits a point right over his kidney. not close enough to the spine to actually turn this into a life-or-death fight - well, at least any closer than it already is - but enough to hurt.

he tries to follow it up with a rain of blows to the rest of him, his shoulderblades and neck and the back of his head, to smash his face into the ground when he tries to rise. tries as he goes to get on top of him, or at least over him. ]

[ it's not far off what he was expecting from evan, but the hits combined with evan's weight on him still make him fall back flat, knocking the air out of him with the force and the pain. the first hit was a fucking killer, everything after that makes it fucking difficult to gather himself enough. david snarls, hisses a curse, just barely manages to keep his head up enough to stop evan smash his face against the ground. ]

[ david takes a deep breath, growls as he pulls his hands in closer to stabilise himself and starts pushing himself again. a growl rumbling in his chest as he manages to get himself up on his knees, powering through the weight on his back, the hits that should by all rights put him flat on his face. ]

[ despite everything he's doing, david's getting up. evan can feel it, pushed up as david goes, trying to keep his balance without giving up a single hit. and he's losing. somehow david's just - getting back up. relentless. always fucking relentless in this kind of shit. never willing to stay down when she should.

the fury boils over as he tries to grind david's face into the pavement with no success, and instead he lets go to climb further over him and clamp both hands around david's neck. thumbs pressed against the back of his spine, fingers curled around his throat, squeezing like he can rip david's head off right where they are. ]

[ david gets as far as on his knees before he feels evan's hands around his neck, squeezing like he could pop his fucking head off. some of the cheering from onlookers has turned to concern, he can hear it. the kind of turn when you realise it's not just a fight, that one or both of these guys are gonna end up dead if somebody doesn't do something. ]

[ they think it's gonna be him too. fuck that. ]

[ it's difficult to breathe, borderline impossible, he sucks one in through a wheeze and it burns the whole way down. it's hard not to give into the instinct to try and rip out of evan's grip, but he knows better. reaches to grab one of evan's wrists and try to pull it away, his other arm he throws back his elbow to try and hit evan. to wind him, push him back, whatever he can do. ]

[ he wants him dead. has for years. and right here, right now, maybe he can do it. it's not the way he wanted it to happen, but he'll take it now, bloody and bruised and a concussion already well on its way through his skull. he wanted to beat david into a pulp, see his face ruined, his chest caved in. but this is going to be enough.

but david's not giving up, because when does he ever? he fights back. it's what they both do. he grabs and pulls at evan's grip, which doesn't do much, and slams an elbow back, which does a little more. more than a little more.

it hits his stomach over a spot already sensitive from a series of blows earlier and while evan's grip loosens just slightly, between the hit and david reeling back to deliver it, the main result is that evan drops back, dragging david with him. the grip is still tight but loosening, and now he's on his back. but at least david's still struggling. doesn't have the upper hand yet. ]

[ the face david makes when evan drops back would probably be comical in any other circumstance, wide-eyed surprise for a split second before his body bows backward. still struggling for breath, still disoriented, vision dark and blurry at the edges. ]

[ he's gonna kill this man. he's gonna cave his fucking face in with his fists, beat him until he's nothing more than ruined meat. david snarls, makes a quick decision he hopes pans out, because if he fucks up here then he's fucked. ]

[ he throws his weight backwards, trying to land all of it on evan — wind him, hurt him, anything — another elbow or two. anything he can do with the hope of getting out of this, maybe managing to turn himself around so now he's the one on top with the upper hand. but fuck it, he'll taking getting out of evan's grip before it turns into a grapple if that's all he can get. ]

[ david lands on him, hard. it's enough to wind him, make him choke on his own breath as it's forced out of his lungs, makes him loosen his grip enough that when david starts to land blows again he lets go out of instinct to defend himself.

and then david's trying to turn himself around, get on top, get in a position where he can beat evan down. exactly what evan was trying to do. that can't happen. he can't let that happen. he won't let that happen.

he tries with everything he has to wrap one arm around david's throat - not quite the crushing grip, but still a grip - and punches upward again. back into that same spot he landed his elbow not so long ago. against his side. his ribs. the easiest places to reach like this.

and, without thinking, he bites. david's ear is in reach and everything in him wants blood. it's not his best moment, but then again, what is? ]

[ he keeps that grip on evan's wrist, keeps trying to pull, make some kind of space. falters at that first hit into his back, but david grits his teeth, keeps throwing that elbow back into him, plants his feet to push his weight down on him. anything he's got to hurt him. ]

[ the bite is what does it. the way david practically roars in pain and shock, pure instinct in the way he moves like he's trying to shove evan away, but he can't in the position they're in. something about the scene activates the onlookers, though david's in too deep to really be fully aware of what happens or in what order. ]

[ there's hands on him, multiple people pulling and shouting and david's swinging, yelling at them to get the fuck off him, trying to tear himself away and rush back at evan. all fury and bloodlust as he tries to keep this fight going. ]

[ the taste of someone else's blood both shocks him and spurs him on. he lets go almost instantly once the blood hits his tongue, but part of him wants to do it again. get his teeth in david's neck and rip out a chunk, make him collapse, make him bleed out right here, right in the street.

but then david's being dragged away, and he's getting shoved, and then he's being pulled. evan forgets that this was a setup and fights like a wild animal to get back to the fight. it takes four of his own guys, and a hard kick to the side of the leg by someone who knows he'll get away with it for once, before he's far enough away for sense to settle back in.

but it's not enough. he's cursing, yelling, trying to get david to break loose and come at him just so they have an excuse to jump him as a group. but david's guys know what they're doing, too. david doesn't break free. evan doesn't, either. it doesn't help that all he can see is red. ]

[ one of david's guys is thanking his lucky stars they had the forethought to make sure the guys they brought for this were picked for strength and durability rather than anything going on in their heads, somewhere between the number of them it takes to pull david back and one of them getting a broken nose for the effort while david's lashing out like an animal. ]

[ they drag him away, far enough he can't just throw himself back at evan the second he's loose, and like evan, david is cursing and yelling the whole time. staring bloody murder at the other man. practically begging for an excuse. ]

[ one of them stands in front of him once they're a good distance away, trying to block david's view of evan and talk him down. mostly because they don't want to fight him all the way back. it works well enough, david at least settles enough they can let go of him and he pulls himself away, still pissed as hell but at least not immediately about to try and run the distance between them to start fighting again. much as he wants to. ]

[ he pulls his ruined shirt off, uses it to try and wipe up his face. it doesn't really work and it hurts like hell, which really just pisses him off even more. ]

[ what finally stops evan, even after they've decided he's calm enough to let go, is someone telling him flatly your father wants to talk to you.

it freezes him like it always does, realigning his priorities, making dread his top priority. with david blocked from his vision, he doesn't have the focus of his rage anymore, and so he loses all that anger pretty quickly.

or at least most of it. there's still a lot inside, waiting to get back to the kill, raging that he didn't draw more blood.

he doesn't wipe himself clean, except to try and hide a few more obvious marks. he'll get yelled at for that. it should have been all him beating down david, not taking any hits. but as they leave in sullen silence, he thinks: it worked, right? it had to have worked. had to. ]

[ similarly the panic that sets in at hearing he has to regroup with his own father is familiar, but never any easier. the more observant among his entourage pretend not to see it, the way david's back stiffens and he clenches his jaw, nods as he accepts the bollocking coming his way. there's going to be something. a lot of somethings. why'd you take so many hits? he better look worse. why was a fight even necessary? david glances back at evan, (well, at his group,) spares half a moment's thought to wonder if it's the same for him. ]

[ they leave — one of the more senior guys has to give david a shove to make sure he doesn't linger and try to get back into it, but they leave. as far as anyone can tell it worked, and it worked well. anyone who wasn't distracted by the fight or people talking about the fight was pulled in when david and evan really got into it. when it was clear the two of them wanted to put eachother in the ground.

even so, his mother's terse "look at the state of you," when he gets home pretty much sets the tone. she leaves, disappointed, and there's no congratulations from his father for successful work, not even a hint of a pleased expression on his face. just a quick note that the other team managed their job followed by a dressing down. it was "a poor showing", a "shameful display," they should be above fighting in the street like thugs. if he insists on fighting everyone, he should at least do it better. apparently macmillan's son wasn't nearly so... bloodied. ]

[ par for the course then. david lets that lie for the week, mostly to recover and let his bruises fade. or turn that horrible yellow/blue that they do. things have been weighing on his mind though, and he ends up reaching out to evan to ask if things are all good on their end. no idea why he does, probably just because he can't seem to get any details from his dad. ]

Edited (clarity) 2024-07-15 07:12 (UTC)

[ evan's reception at home is similar. probably louder, though. that he's the one with less blood and bruises doesn't matter. they saw you on the ground. with him on top of you. no, i don't care if you were about to break his goddamned neck. you know better. you're supposed to be better than that.

it stings him, but of course he doesn't argue, or fight back. just takes it and goes back to let the bruises seethe once he's dismissed. everything hurts for days, which is par the course, but he can't stand it. that he did what he was supposed to do and it still wasn't good enough. what else could he have done? could either of them have done? blow up a building? just yell at each other?

he sinks deeper into a miserable gloom right up until the day david texts him out of nowhere, which turns it into a miserable anger. why does he care? their work is done.

his response is short and to the point. that everything's fine. he hasn't heard anything else. which he hasn't, really. he assumes things are going well enough because his father hasn't been screaming at anyone lately. their fight was enough to do the job but not enough to make anyone think he's more than a mess.

after a while, he follows up the response. why ask? ]

[ why ask? david stares at that for a long little while. if there was a problem he would've heard surely? his father would never let that lie. the fact that he hasn't heard anything is a good thing. ]

Haven't heard much from your lot is all.

Just making sure things are good.

[ that's normal, right? it's a normal thing to say and do. ]

[ just the idea makes evan want to snarl, but he doesn't. hard to do over text, anyway. ]

When do you ever

You'd know if they weren't

[ there'd be a lot more shit flying around, for one. ]

Unusual circumstances.

But I get the message. Fuck me for asking.

[ how could he possibly have forgotten for a moment what an asshole evan is? david sighs, tosses his phone aside. everything's fine then. ]

[ evan sneers at the answer. unusual circumstances? just asking for the hell of it? no, this is an information grab. it always is. and he's not going to be the weak link.

after a little while, though, he picks his phone back up. debates his actions. ]

How's your throat

[ did he crush his vocal cords? is that why this isn't a call? unlikely. he didn't have a grip for that long. ]

[ that, funnily enough, is a lot easier for david to respond to. he assumes it's evan talking shit, and that's easy to slip into. ]

Just fine. Other than the purple.

[ it was a little raw for a few days but they don't need to talk about that ]

How's your ribs?

Fine

[ david doesn't need to know about the fractures. neither does anybody else. including the doctor. ]

Ear?

Not as bad as it felt, thought you took a whole chunk out at the time.

Wanted to take it off

[ that's not true, but god forbid he fail to escalate a situation. ]

Lucky for you our boys got involved

Not sure I could've wanted to kill you more than I did, but that probably would've done it.

[ he's already pretty pissed about his ear's new shape as it is. ]

Wouldn't change much, would it?

You don't listen anyway

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