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

Guess we can work on that problem now there's no need to play nice anymore, eh?

Big words for a guy with a busted neck

[ says evan, with five fractured ribs. ]

Nothing I can't handle.

You wanna do that again? No boys this time

One of us ain't walking away

Time and place, Mac.

[ he reconsiders, just for a second. he's not in top form, but neither is david. then the rage comes back, the anger, the burning want to see david flat on his back, choking on his own blood. ]

Tomorrow

Sundown at brewery. Cops are done with it

See you there.

[ and see him there he does. busted ribs and fucked up back be damned. david doesn't bother trying to hide the two black eyes or the cut lip; he's looked worse. has at least the awareness to know he's probably gonna look worse again after this is done. ]

[ but then it'll be done. lord knows he's wanted this man dead for years, had his blood on his fists enough time to be frustrated there's never anything to show for it. he's a mess right now, but so is evan. that's good enough for him. ]

[ plain black hoodie like the last time they were here, david waits quietly in the shadows as the sun sets over the place. not intentionally, there's just a good wall to lean on there. ]

[ evan knows it's a mistake halfway there. his whole body's still ringing with the pain of the fight. his ribs aren't fixed up. david might be just as banged up as him, but he's not at this best. still, he goes. he's too angry. he wants this done.

sure, his father's going to beat him even worse over this, but the alliance, tenuous as it was, is over. maybe this'll be the thing that tips both sides into all-out warfare, the sons taking it too far. it doesn't matter. it's not like it'll change anything for him.

the idea that david might win doesn't even occur to him.

he sees david in the shadows as he approaches, and ignores him until they get inside. he won't show the pain, but the first punch is going to be miserable. still. ]

You scared someone's gonna recognize you going for a second fight?

[ any doubts he had about this are gone the second he hears evan's voice. ]

[ like evan, he's practiced at hiding pain. at pretending he's not in agony, like every breath he takes doesn't ache. like it doesn't still sting a sore throat and burn his ribs every time. ]

[his voice is still a little rough, but it's closer to how it might be after waking up, or after taking a shot. nothing like the raw gravel that was shredding his throat the day after the fight. ]

Don't wanna get recognised on my way out when I'm leaving your body behind, more like.

[ evan gives david a look of disgust, and hate, and those are the only reasons he doesn't smirk at the rough edge to david's voice. ]

Ashamed that you'll have to crawl to get away?

[ it wouldn't matter, even if he did get caught. his old man would pay the cops off. and then probably celebrate, the both of them. david would be insufferable. worse than ever. and evan's body would end up in a ditch somewhere, because his father's made it very clear that if evan's death precedes his, he won't even remember he had a son.

he can always try again.

but that's not going to happen. he's going to walk out of here alive, and throw david's beaten, bloody body into a ditch, and it'll be weeks before anyone finds it. by then nobody will ask questions. by then evan will be able to lie as easily as anyone else. by then nobody will know, even if they guess. ]

[ a smirk tugs at his expression, but it doesn't fully bloom. david unzips his hoodie, tosses it aside so he has something unbloodied to wear when he gets out of here, because obviously he's the one leaving. ]

Sure. We'll see about that.

[ there's a few gnarly looking bruises on his arms from blocking evan's hits last time, a better explanation for why he's so covered up, but when has being bruised up ever stopped him? why should he care now it's evan fucking macmillan instead of a million other fools he's beaten into the ground? ]

[ nobody would be surprised if this is how he went out. if they found his body a week, a month from now, black and blue. finally bit off more than he could chew, they'd say, and that's all david would ever be to anyone who remembered him. but it won't be like that. nah, instead the macmillans will remember him. after they find evan's body, archie will remember him. might try and save face but david's still gonna be the guy who took the best weapon they had and broke him, even if nobody can prove a fucking thing. ]

[ and if he has to rip out evan's throat with his teeth to do it, then fuck it. that's what he has to do. ]

[ no point fucking around then. evan's ready, david knows it, he's always ready. david takes a casual couple of steps toward him, and then he's launching himself forward, fists flying for his face. ]

[ evan doesn't take off his jacket. he's not about to show off the bruises any more than he has to. he watches david instead, intent, waiting to see a weapon. there isn't one. but david wouldn't bring a weapon to this. neither one of them would, or ever has. the worst they've done is brass knuckles, and even those weren't good enough. they need to feel each other's blood and bones. need to know what they're doing.

he watches, tense and rigid, ignoring the way everything hurts, the way his shoulder is already aching in anticipation of what's going to come next, when david charges.

evan wants to duck the blow but doesn't. he catches david, stumbles back even as he locks a vicelike grip around his wrists, can't keep his balance, and hits the floor. on his back. his father's words rip through his skull like a bullet. ]

[ it'd be a lie to say it didn't occur to david to bring a knife. hell, bring a gun and just be done with this whole fucking song and dance. but it's not gonna be like that, not for evan. it's always been hands on with them, and that's how he deserves to go out. ]

[ david feels that grab all the way up his arms, up to his shoulders like evan's trying to yank them out of their sockets, which isn't helped any by the pull when evan falls. david grimaces, grits his teeth on a grunt of pain when he lands. it's blinding for a second, almost makes him wonder if one or several of his ribs didn't just break, but there's an opportunity and david has to take it. ]

[ it takes some scrambling, at least one pained noise he's not too proud of, but david hurries to right himself to get up and straddle evan. tries to take the moment to get his hands around evan's throat and squeeze. ]

[ he tries to kick david off him, knee him in the groin or stomach - someplace sensitive, someplace with bruises. but it doesn't work, and after a few seconds david's straddling him, on him, hands around his throat -

returning the favor.

evan strains his neck instantly, as if that's going to make a difference, and slashes at david's face with his free hands. punching, clawing, unwilling to let david strangle him here and now, because all david has to do is lean forward to get the pressure evan had to use his entire body to get before. he bucks, tries to leverage them both over. aims more than a few punches at kidneys that have to still be aching.

and all the while it's not as strong as it should be, because he fucked up, he's furious, he's injured. he can see this ending. he'll be thrown out. forgotten. david will swan back home and get all the favor, all the adoration, and if his father tries to get revenge it'll be some rote bullshit just out of appearances and nobody will really care. not one single person. the only person who'll even remember him will be the man about to kill him.

just david fucking king. ]

[ he can't put enough strength into it. ]

[ it's not even the blows that stop him, though those fucking hurt and it shows. even as he leans forward, puts his weight down on his hands, he can't hold a grip around evan's neck that'll do more than hurt. his arms are trembling, struggling to hold him up, his torso feels like it's on fire. ]

[ and david's snarling, staring down at evan in frustration, in a wild rage as he leans harder, trying to make each breath the last one he'll ever take and failing. fucking failing. one hand slips off evan to the ground and david swears harshly. the one fucking thing he's good for and he can't even do that. ]

[ evan's not choking, but it's hard to breathe. and he doesn't want a bruise around his neck when he comes back. he doesn't want questions, he wants to walk back home without a word or anyone looking at him twice.

david starts to slip, and that's all he needs to throw everything he has into trying to flip them. trying to get on top. his shoulder's screaming at him, something's busted in there for sure, but he only groans and keeps trying to get on top. has to. has to prove what he can do. he can't strangle david again, but maybe he can smash his face in so bad he can't breathe. ]

Get - down -

[ evan's trying to throw him off, turn them over, but david refuses with just about everything he's got. through the bucking and the hits, he can't let evan on top of him again. he won't. ]

Fuck you.

[ he takes his other hand off evan's neck to try and grab one of his arms to pin it, tries to shift his weight to plant himself more solidly. it's not a great position but it's something, right? has to be. he'll figure it out. ]

[ the upside of fighting david is that he's as strong as evan and doesn't go down easy. the downside of fighting david is exactly the same thing. he's not afraid. he can't be cowed into giving in. he never will, and evan's used to people giving up fast if they aren't david.

so as hard as it is to fight back, he can't stop david from getting one wrist in a grip, pinning it like he couldn't throttle him. he's still got a hand free, though, and he tries to smash that fist into david's face as he plants his feet hard on the floor and shoves up. trying yet again to throw david off him, or over him. whatever needs to be done to get the upper hand again. ]

[ david pushes himself upright, letting go of that wrist as he does, just enough so he can swing down at evan's face. slam his fists into it. ]

[ but unfortunately he does it at the same time evan shoves and he's not ready for it, ends up getting lamped in the face as his body's thrown forward and it annoys him as much as it hurts. ]

[ under normal circumstances he could probably take it no problem, just shift forward over evan so he can't dislodge him, but right now he feels that shove as a jolt of pain up his back. even the way he tries to squeeze his knees at evan's sides doesn't do much to keep him stable as his body tips forward at an odd angle and david throws his hands out to try and keep himself up. still on top of evan, barely, but not for much longer he suspects. ]

[ the hit rattles his already rattled skull. the only comfort is in feeling his own fist plow into david's face.

but that's about the best he can do, right now. he feels david fall forward, barely holding himself up. it'd be the perfect opportunity to hurl him off, chase him down even if he has to crawl, pin him down, beat him to a pulp. but everything's still so sore that he just can't get himself to do it.

evan glares up at david, blood at his mouth from where his teeth cut his lip, eyes gleaming with unadulterated hatred. he needs - a second. just a few seconds. to get his focus and strength back. enough to get david's legs off him, his whole body. if someone saw them, he thinks - ]

You're doin' shit.

[ despite the anger that feels like it's flooding his whole body — at evan, at himself, at this absurd fucking situation — something about what evan says makes him laugh. it comes out as a rush of breath, a little wheezy, and he presses his lips together to hold in the cough at the tail end of it as he looks down at evan. ]

You ain't doin' any better.

[ he tries to push himself up again, walk his hands back, anything, but it just doesn't happen. keeping himself up like this is about all he can do, and even that feels like pushing it right now. his shoulders are burning, his ribs too are pulsing in hot, angry pain. ]

[ this might have been a bad idea. ]

[ the laugh is infuriating, but there's not much he can do about it now. he's pinned, but david's got no leverage, either. one wrong move and they're both out of luck. neither one of them has the strength to keep this up. it was stupid. stupid and angry. story of his fucking life.

it does mean he won't have to hide the body, though. or risk getting kicked out, demoted, causing disappointment. as long as nobody finds out that he didn't manage to pull it off, anyway. but who would have followed him? injured as he is - even if people didn't know the full extent of it - he can't get up to much trouble. ]

Get off me.

[ there's less anger in it than he intends, but his whole torso wants to give up and collapse at this point. it's hard to get the fury into his voice when his lungs can barely get enough air to start with. ]

[ david hesitates, but ultimately he can't hold this much longer. david grits his teeth and pushes himself just enough to roll off evan, landing on his back next to him with a grunt. ]

[ he doesn't even have anything to say for the moment, just thinking about how stupid and embarrassing this is, taking a chance that evan's too fucked up to do anything just yet. ]

[ it's the opportunity he needs. evan tells himself to sit up, to turn, to deliver a killing blow to david. a punch to the throat that snaps the windpipe. a hard enough hit to shatter his skull and drive the pieces into his brain. one final hit to the ribs that makes the broken bone fragments puncture his lungs.

he tenses, but he can't do it. his shoulders are on fire. his own ribs feel like they're about to break into pieces. he manages to push himself up about six inches, then hits the ground again, feeling pathetic. weak. useless.

this was such a stupid idea. ]

Your old man happy about all that?

[ it's an idle, exhausted question. he wants to get mad again so he can beat david up. wants to let the rage overpower the pain. maybe hearing about how david got rewarded for fighting him will do the trick. ]

[ that gets another laugh out of him. it's not hard or loud, but it makes david clutch his ribs with a groan regardless at the pain that spikes. ]

Think he called it shameful, actually.

[ david says it like it's a joke, but the way he stares up at nothing in particular is vacant, tired. he did what he was supposed to, and all he got was his father's disappointment and a month of recovery. ]

[ well, a month plus whatever this adds to it. what a stupid idea. ]

Yours?

[ his old man must've loved it, right? king's son dragged away bloodied and bruised? hilarious. ]

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