6 - Down To The Wire

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Series: This Is What Living Like This Does
Chapter: 6 – Down To The Wire
Pairing: Sweet/Barrett
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Part six (at long last) of my Mint Royale series. Barrett finally gets that call.
Word count: 5,074
Warnings: Smatterings of angst. Misplaced fluff. Swears. Violence.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Mint Royale or any of the people the characters are based on. I make no profit from this.

A/N: It’s taken me months, but it’s here. Next part will be the final (official) part.

Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five

It’s the fifteenth of December when the phone call finally comes. Sweet is halfway through arranging some tinsel around the edge of the desk, and almost jumps out of his skin when the mobile suddenly buzzes. After a week of alternate sulking and whining, yesterday Barrett came back to the hotel room with a box of discount Christmas decorations and since then Sweet has been happily hanging tinsel, fairy lights and paper angels on every available surface.

 

The very best thing was half hidden under a papier-mâché Father Christmas (who has the creepiest eyes of any Santa that Sweet has ever seen), and though Barrett insists that he just bought the box and didn’t know what was in it, Sweet has his suspicions. After all, he’s pretty sure that most sets of tacky plastic decorations don’t come with actual mistletoe. Now it’s pinned above the door, mostly just so Sweet can see Barrett’s face when he comes in and realises what he’s standing underneath. He likes it really, Sweet’s sure.

 

But – ah. There’s a problem. Barrett’s out, and his phone’s ringing. Sweet weighs the possible consequences of answering it versus ignoring it, mentally berating Barrett for not taking the damn thing with him. Really, how difficult would have been to put it in his jacket pocket? It’s called a ‘mobile’ for a reason. What is he, an idiot?

 

Unfortunately, getting annoyed at Barrett doesn’t give him any idea of what to do. The screen flashes irritatingly and Sweet takes a half-step towards it, then falters. The pseudonym on the screen confirms that it’s Tyres, and there’s only one reason that he’d be calling. He must have decided that the robbery’s been out of the papers long enough for the meet to be scheduled – and it’s true, his picture’s not been printed for nearly a fortnight. Technically this is a good thing, ‘cause it means he can finally go outside, right? He and Barrett can leave and get on with their lives, a fuckload richer. Or at least Barrett will be; Sweet hasn’t negotiated his pay yet. He should probably mention it at some stage. But he’ll still come away with a load more cash than he’s had before. So why’s he hesitating to pick up the phone and get them out of here?

 

It rings for the eighth or ninth time, and Sweet’s decision is made for him. The door opens and Barrett comes in. He looks from the phone to Sweet hovering a few paces away, and frowns. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Sweet can’t answer. Barrett stalks into the room, not even noticing the mistletoe, and grabs the handset. ‘Hi. Sorry about that, I was out of the room…’

 

Sweet doesn’t want to listen to the rest of the conversation. He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, then because he can still vaguely hear Barrett he puts the shower on full blast. Then he sits on the toilet lid and wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

 

 

*

 

 

Barrett has to bang on the bathroom door before the kid will come out. He says that he couldn’t hear Barrett calling – and his hair’s wet, so Barrett supposes it must be true. Sweet always picks inappropriate moments to do things like wash his hair or decide he needs a different pair of jeans. Usually it’s when Barrett’s got something really urgent to do.

 

‘We’ve got to pack,’ he tells the kid abruptly. ‘We’re meeting Tyres in two hours to hand over the cash. Start getting your stuff out of the wardrobe.’

 

The kid grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Great!’ There’s a pause. ‘Just two hours, though?’ He bites his lip, staring up at Barrett – who doesn’t really know what to say. He’s about to tell Sweet to stop being all soppy, and ask if he wanted to live like this forever, when Sweet breaks in on his thoughts with, ‘I mean, we’ve got loads of junk in ‘ere now, dunno we can pack up that quickly.’ He delivers the line well, and Barrett almost believe that it’s what he was planning to say all along, but that moment dragged on unfilled just a little too long. He could put a voice to all this, make Sweet say what he’s really thinking and reveal his own mind in the process, but he doesn’t. He won’t. It’s not the sort of thing he does, and he’s damned if he’s going to start getting into all of that romantic bullshit now.

 

‘Two hours,’ he repeats gruffly. ‘Anything that’s not packed up by then we leave here.’

 

The kid’s eyebrows shoot up in shock and he flies past Barrett to start pulling his things out of the wardrobe. A few weeks ago Barrett brought back a couple of suitcases, assuming that it couldn’t be much longer until the call came. For a while they stood by the door and Barrett insisted that everything was kept scrupulously tidy so that packing was easy when the time came. Sweet had complained and compared Barrett to a pregnant woman waiting for labour to set in, “It’s not like we’re gunna have to rush to the hospital before a baby pops out of you,” but he’d complied nonetheless. Barrett was left quite relieved that Sweet was unlikely to ever be the sole person in charge of looking after a woman in labour.

 

He takes the smaller suitcase, aware that Sweet has about five times more possessions than him in the motel room. It only takes Barrett a few minutes to pack, and then he sits back and watches the kid rushing around, bringing armfuls of product out of the bathroom and half-disappearing under the bed to retrieve several pairs of jeans. Barrett could offer to help him, but he doesn’t want to, even though he’s already checked them out and they’re expected to be out of the room in half an hour.. It’s not his fault that Sweet hasn’t got an organised bone in his body. Instead he drifts into a reverie of sorts, imagining what he’s going to do when this is over. He wonders if he can get away with fobbing the neighbours off with the old ‘impromptu holiday’ excuse when he gets back to his house. Someone’s bound to have noticed he’s hardly been there; especially considering the nosey old woman he lives next to. She once commented that he’d ordered one bottle of milk more than usual that week – there was no chance she hadn’t missed him. His typical excuse had always worked in the past when he’d been hiding out, but that had been a week at a time. She probably wouldn’t buy that he’d just gone off on holiday for two months on the spur of the moment. Perhaps he should start looking for a new place. Outside the city, perhaps, where people didn’t notice whether you were there or not.

 

Realising that the room’s suddenly a whole lot quieter, he looks around. There are still clothes scattered everywhere, but the kid’s apparently got bored and decided that he’s packed enough. Now he’s sitting on the carpet near the door with one of the briefcases open in front of him. He takes out some of the banknotes and looks at them, holding them carefully as if he’s afraid they’ll break. It occurs to Barrett that right now Sweet’s probably holding more money than he’s ever had.

 

‘How much am I gettin’?’ It’s an abrupt question, but Barrett’s used to it. Sometimes when the kid really, really wants something that he doesn’t think he’s going to get he’ll take the care to sidle up to the issue, like a child trying to gauge its parents’ reactions before it asks for an ice-cream. The rest of the time it comes out like this; simple, to the point.

 

Barrett steeples his fingers and looks thoughtful. ‘How much did you agree with Tyres?’

 

‘Never did, ‘cause he didn’t know exactly how much you were gunna get. We were goin’ to agree it afterwards.’

 

‘I see. Well, being the driver isn’t really the most taxing job, is it? I think a grand would be enough – hell, it’s probably too much. But then there’s your half of the hotel bills to consider, and this place is cheap but we have been here for quite a while… so that would take it down to about five hundred. Which is more than fair, in my opinion.’ He’s not sure why he does it, but the mixture of confusion, outrage and the tiniest bit of fear on the kid’s face is worth it. Barrett can see him physically struggling not to say anything, and it’s only a few seconds before he loses and the outburst comes.

 

‘But that ain’t fair! You must have at least two million in them three cases, and I get a poxy five hundred? I’ve got just as much right as you!’

 

Sweet’s eyes are shining with angry tears, but Barrett won’t relent yet. ‘But you got captured on the CCTV. If it weren’t for you we’d have been out of here weeks ago.’

 

Sweet mumbles something that Barrett doesn’t quite catch. ‘Pardon?’

 

‘I said it weren’t my fault.’ The kid’s turned those big blue eyes on him. Barrett tries gallantly to resist, but finds himself getting up and walking over to him. He reaches down to play with Sweet’s hair, and the kid pushes against his palm like a fussy cat. ‘Please?’ there’s no hint of whine in his voice; he’s being as cute and irresistible as he knows how. It breaks Barrett’s resolve completely.

 

‘Fine. I’ll give you one hundred grand. Will that do?’ He still feels a bit guilty, after all, it’s a tiny portion of the whole takings. But Sweet looks amazed, and claws Barrett down to kiss him.

 

‘I’ve never had that much money,’ he says, breathless. ‘This is well genius Howa- sorry. Barrett. I feel well stupid calling you that, can’t I call you by your proper name?’

 

‘No.’ It’s a subject Barrett will brook no discussion on. ‘Don’t push your luck. And,’ he holds Sweet away from him slightly to look properly into his eyes, ‘You’ve got to promise me something.’

 

‘What?’ Sweet has a mischievous look in his eyes. ‘Free blowjobs for life? ‘Cause I would…’ His hands start creeping towards Barrett’s belt, but Barrett grabs him by the wrist and holds him still.

 

‘You have to promise not to tell Tyres.’ The kid looks confused at how serious he is.

 

‘About the hundred grand? He won’t care, it’s well tiny compared to what you’re both gettin’.’ He grins, ‘I ain’t that stupid, you know. But I don’t mind.’ He tries to snuggle in for another kiss but Barrett holds him away.

 

‘Not to tell him about this. About us. Understand?’

 

Sweet fixes him with a thoroughly puzzled look, ‘Why? You ashamed of me or somethin’? I ain’t gunna do nothin’ embarrassing.’

 

He’s stopped trying to wind his way into Barrett’s lap, and Barrett lets him go. This had to come at some point. ‘You said it yourself, Tyres is a homophobe. There’s no way he’d give me work again if he knew about us. I’ll be amazed if he’s not already suspicious. And even if he didn’t care – which he would – no one would take me seriously. No one can know about this.’ The kid shoves himself backwards, and Barrett can see him forming a sulk. ‘Sorry,’ he says, absurdly. The whole situation is screwed, from him trying to cheer the kid up right down to the whole fucked up version of the career vs. relationship talk.

 

‘It ain’t fair.’ This is Sweet at his most childish, refusing to give eye-contact and going slightly pink in the cheeks. The words are muttered, as if he knows that he’s not going to win but he won’t agree anyway.

 

‘What isn’t?’ The last thing Barrett intended was to get caught up in trying to mollify the kid – what is it to him if he’s miserable? It was never part of the plan for feelings to get involved. And they haven’t, not for him. He can’t help it if the kid’s stupid enough to get too attached. Though Barrett fervently hopes that he hasn’t.

 

Sweet scrubs at his eyes with one sleeve in a frustrated sort of way, but doesn’t reply. Barrett sighs and opens his arms, ‘Come here.’ The kid pauses, seemingly distrustful of Barrett’s motives, but then he gives in and scrambles over for a cuddle. It’s just because he knows that if Sweet’s going to be all sulky and upset there’s no way they’ll meet Tyres on time and this is the easiest way to calm him down, Barrett tells himself. And tries to ignore the comforting smell of the kid’s shampoo.

 

*

 

Sweet enjoys the rare moment of almost-affection while he can. It’s not the sort of thing Barrett goes in for, most of the time. It’s a bit awkward because Barrett still doesn’t quite get cuddles and he only sort of half-squeezes like he’s afraid Sweet’s gunna take offence, and his left hand is doing a nervous tapping thing against Sweet’s waist, but it’s still better than nothing. Trying to lead by example he snuggles closer into Barrett’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around him, but it doesn’t seem to help much. It’s comforting, all the same, just to be there.

 

‘Love you.’

 

The words are out before Sweet can stop them. For a moment he thinks that maybe Barrett didn’t hear; they were only just above a whisper and Barrett hasn’t reacted. He’s not so lucky though, when a second later Barrett pushes him away, so forcefully that he falls back against the wall.

 

‘You don’t,’ Barrett snarls, climbing to his feet and looking down at Sweet, instinctively curled against the wall. ‘Don’t ever fucking say you do. This is nothing.’ He virtually spits the last word. It’s the hard, dangerous side of Barrett that Sweet’s been seeing less and less of over the last couple of weeks, and which he hadn’t missed. But he had forgotten just how fucking scary he is – and that was a massive fucking mistake on his part. So, all in all, it’s really the worst moment the cleaning girl could have chosen to walk in.

 

She stares at them, forgotten cart blocking the doorway behind her. He eyes move from Barrett, to Sweet, to the open briefcase full of money sitting innocently on the floor. The connection is visibly made as her eyes grow wide, first with surprise and then with fear, and she tries to back away.

 

She gets as far with her gabbled excuse as ‘I thought…’ before Barrett’s grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her back into the room, slamming the door behind her. She shrieks as he shoves her onto the bed.

 

Sweet feels a bit sick as he realises what’s coming next. Barrett reaches into the briefcase and pulls out a revolver from under the piles of money, and catches the girl again as she tries to run – though to where Sweet isn’t sure, as both he and Barrett are between her and the only exit. The whole thing is happening so fast that Sweet can hardly keep track of it.

 

Barrett presses the gun to the writhing girl’s temple. She immediately falls quiet, trembling in his grip. A couple of tears slide down her face and onto her neck.

 

‘Stop it.’ Sweet’s voice shakes slightly, robbing the words of and kind of authority. Barrett glares, and for a moment Sweet’s afraid that the gun might be turned on him instead.

 

‘Be quiet,’ Barrett snaps, and turns his attention back to the maid, pressing the barrel of the revolver more forcefully into her flesh. ‘You’re going to forget you ever saw us,’ he instructs. ‘You’re not going to remember anything about the people who were in this room, except that they seemed perfectly ordinary to you. Understand?’ She nods, the smallest of jerky movements, as though she’s afraid that anything more might knock his hand against the trigger. Barrett doesn’t relent. ‘And if, once we’re gone, I get any hint that you’ve mentioned us to anyone, I’m coming back.’ He removes the gun, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. ‘Got that?’ She nods again, whimpering.

 

Barrett stares into her eyes for a moment more, then throws her backwards onto the bed. Sweet can see her face, half hidden by dark hair loosened from her ponytail and streaked with tears. She shakes, but doesn’t try to move.

 

Barrett seems to be done with her, and turns to Sweet. ‘Get your stuff in the car. Now.’ He doesn’t offer a hand to help Sweet up, but picks up the cases nearest to him and walks out, leaving Sweet to scrabble about picking up what he can.

 

 

 

 

They’re both quiet in the car. Only half of Sweet’s clothes could be fitted into proper suitcases, and the rest are shoved in carrier bags or just piled loose in the boot. But that’s the last thing he cares about right now. He keeps glancing over to Barrett, hoping to catch him doing the same thing, but he stares resolutely ahead. It’s driving Sweet fucking insane.

 

‘Why aren’t I driving?’ It’s the only thing he can think of to break the silence. It’s maybe not as dramatic as “I love you, don’t leave me,” or “I’ll die without you,” but those are like lines from some fucking 1940s romance, and besides, this is less likely to get him shot. Not that he thinks that Barrett will actually shoot him, not now, but it’s still best to play on the safe side, right?

 

‘Because you know I don’t like how you drive.’ The single sentence is delivered quietly, patronisingly, without a single glance in his direction. Sweet could carry on the pretence, go through all the old lines. Say that he’s a safe driver, and then Barrett would disagree, and then Sweet would point out that he’s never crashed, and then Barrett would say that it’s only a matter of time, etcetera, etcetera. He can’t be fucking bothered with all that.

 

‘Why the fuck won’t you look at me?’

 

Seemingly purely to annoy him, Barrett continues to stare straight ahead. ‘Because I’m driving. I’m watching the road. It’s what safe drivers do; you might have heard of it.’ He pauses for effect. ‘Well. Maybe not.’

 

Sweet fixes his most deadly glare on him, ‘What are you doing? Are you trying to make me mad at you so I’ll leave you alone? So I’ll go away and never talk to you again and you can forget about your little gay rent boy?’

 

It’s a good job they’re in a moving vehicle, or Sweet thinks he might have cause to fear for his life. Barrett grips the steering wheel so tightly that Sweet’s sure there’ll be indents of his fingers when he lets go, but that’s all he can do. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and when he speaks he sounds quite calm – too calm. It’s that sort of forced quiet that happens when people go too far beyond anger or stress to shout and scream anymore. It sounds like danger.

 

‘What did you think was going to happen?’ he asks in this eye-of-the-storm voice. Now that he’s confronted with it, Sweet doesn’t know what to say. He never really got that far. ‘Answer me.’

 

‘I don’t know.’ It’s the truth. He’s not dim-witted enough to imagine that they’d swan off together as a proper little couple, and maybe get a cat and a holiday cottage in Cornwall, but… ‘Not this. I don’t want this.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘This.’ Sweet makes an expansive gesture, indicating everything around them. ‘Packin’ up, leavin’. Not leavin’ the motel, I mean, thank fuck we’re out of there, but just… everything bein’ over. An’ it is, ain’t it?’ As he speaks, Barrett turns the car off the small road that they’ve been travelling down for the last ten minutes, and pulls up in front of a scummy block of flats. He switches off the engine, but doesn’t turn to face Sweet.

 

‘We’re early,’ he mutters. ‘Tyres won’t be here for a few minutes.’

 

‘Fucking look at me!’ Sweet yells, losing it for just a moment. Hot, angry tears sting his eyes and drip down his cheeks. Barrett quietly turns to look him in the eye, and reaches over to wipe Sweet’s face with one thumb. Sweet pushes his hand away, wriggling as far away as the confines of his seat will allow. ‘Don’t do that. It is over, right? No way you’re going to stick with me. So you don’t get to do stuff like that no more.’ His voice hitches in his throat, and he rubs the wetness from his cheeks with the back of his hand, feeling childish and stupid. Barrett doesn’t make any moves to get closer to him. His eyes look the most lost that Sweet’s ever seen them.

 

‘I bought the car for you,’ he blurts out. Sweet frowns at him,

 

‘What?’

 

Barrett runs his hand through his hair, looking anywhere but into Sweet’s red-rimmed eyes. ‘I felt bad for torching yours. Thought I’d… surprise you. By giving you this. I know it’s not exactly a Mercedes, but…’ His voice trails off, one hand making vague gestures in the air like he’s hoping Sweet might understand. Sweet doesn’t.

 

‘I don’t get it,’ he mumbles. ‘You reckon the car’s a replacement or somethin’?’ He attempts a laugh, but it comes out choked. ‘This is almost as bad as the old one. No way am I gunna pick up guys in this.’ It’s not funny, not even Sweet can pretend it is. It’s an act of bravado that’s pointless because who ever managed to look cool and on top of things when they had tears dripping off their chin? All the same, he risks a look up to see how Barrett’s reacting. For a moment he does nothing. The slowly, very slowly, as if assuring himself that he could back out at any time, he leans forwards and kisses Sweet gently on the lips.

 

*

 

His face is damp, and Barrett can taste the salt of tears on his lips. He has no idea why he kissed the kid just then, and the thought scares him before their mouths have even parted. He’s got nothing to gain from this, so why…?

 

It looks like the same thought is going through the kid’s mind. His eyes are wide in confusion, and something else that Barrett doesn’t want to contemplate. It’s stupid, it’s fucking idiotic, but suddenly he can’t push the kid away like he was planning to.

 

‘Maybe…’ The word spills out of his mouth before he can stop it. And it’s too late now, the sentence has to be completed. Barrett doesn’t like to do things by halves, even things which he knows he’ll regret later. ‘Maybe this isn’t the end of everything.’ Fuck, this sounds soppy. Where did this come from? ‘I mean, you’ll still work for Tyres, right? We’re bound to bump into each other. And I could look into getting you some work too, if you’re serious about all this.’ It’s like he’s speaking an entirely different language, but he knows the kid’s right there with him when he grins in a slightly shy sort of way,

 

‘Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.’ Then the shyness is gone, and Sweet ruins the subtlety of their double-meaning conversation by kissing Barrett hungrily, teeth and tongues and hands running through hair.

 

‘Woah, woah,’ Barrett pulls away after a second, not far enough to offend the kid but enough to keep him at bay. ‘Tyres is going to be here any second. He can’t see this.’

 

Sweet pouts. You’d never have guessed that a few minutes ago he was being all tearful and pathetic, Barrett thinks. ‘Don’t see why it’s such a problem.’

 

Barrett groans, wondering how anybody can exasperate him this much in such a short space of time. ‘How about because if he saw I’d never get another job with him? No one gets jobs like Tyres, not on our level.’

 

The sound of a car pulling up puts an end to the conversation. They get out to greet Tyres, acting normal. Sweet is putting on a good outward display, but Barrett knows him well enough to be able to tell that he’s sulking, even if no one else can. He wonders briefly whether it’s a danger sign, but dismisses the idea. Sweet’s prone to acting childish, but he doesn’t think he’ll do anything stupid just because of a slight snub.

 

He greets Tyres with a firm handshake, and finds himself pulled into a sort of manly half-hug, complete with back-slapping. He thinks he hears the kid snigger behind him, and turns around to shoot him a ‘keep your trap shut’ look, but he just raises his eyebrows in response. That annoying smirk’s playing around his mouth, telling Barrett better than words ever could just how well he knows that Barrett can’t do anything to him whilst Tyres is there, not unless he wants to give the game away. It does not improve Barrett’s mood.

 

‘Here at last, eh?’ Tyres grins. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but with Tyres it rarely does. There’s always the slight gleam of distrust in the depths of his irises, blocking any emotion he expresses from ever seeming entirely genuine. It’s why he’s survived so long in this game. It’s always unnerved Barrett slightly – not the fact that Tyres doesn’t trust him; outside a job that’s pretty much the standard amongst people like them. And they’ve found this time that you shouldn’t really even trust your comrades whilst your part of a job together. No, what unnerves Barrett is how different Tyres is from all the others. Barrett himself isn’t flashy with his wealth, but he lives in a nice part of town in a fairly big house, and he’s openly very financially comfortable. Good at playing the stock market, he tells people. But Tyres – Tyres isn’t like that. Tyres has what must be by now a pretty fucking big fortune stowed away in a bank somewhere offshore, but he lives in a crummy little run-down basement flat in a bad area. The sort of place where a Saturday-night stabbing two streets away would be conspicuous by its absence. It’s like he’s really not in this for the money. That scares Barrett, just a little. Because that makes him a much more dangerous sort of person than your average criminal.

 

‘Took a bit longer than usual, yeah,’ Barrett agrees. ‘Still – adds a bit of variety to life.’

 

‘Hmm.’ Tyres’ eyes flick from Barrett’s face over to the kid, then back. ‘A bit of variety we’re not going to have again, I’m thinkin’, Vincent?’

 

Barrett knows better than to look, but he hears Sweet mutter something and kick an old can across the stained concrete.

 

‘Less of that.’ The rebuke from Tyres is sharp, and Barrett hopes Sweet knows him well enough to stand still and keep his mouth shut. Tyres leans closer, conspiratorially, ‘Hope he didn’t give y’ too much trouble. Keeps on as he’s going and he’ll be a decent crook one day, but right now he needs putting in his place now and then, you get me?’

 

Barrett nods once, ‘I have found that.’ Certain inappropriate images flicker across his mind’s eye. He shakes his head slightly, trying to clear them.

 

‘Better get this done with, then.’ Tyres says, apparently tired of the small talk. He gestures for Sweet to bring him the briefcase he’s holding. Sweet hands it over, and Barrett hopes that Tyres doesn’t notice the sulky look the kid shoots him. Balancing the case with one hand, Tyres undoes the clips and lifts the lid, scanning the contents. ‘Yeah, that looks about right,’ he nods, and Barrett releases a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

 

‘Bit more than we were expecting, of course.’ He attempts a smile but it comes off as more of a grimace. ‘Almost worth Watt turning out to be such a fucking twat.’

 

‘Hmm.’ Tyres doesn’t look convinced. ‘How much did you give Vincent?’

 

Barrett has to suppress a chuckle at the look of distaste that passes over Sweet’s face at the mention of his name. ‘Hundred grand. More than he fucking deserves, but fair enough.’

 

‘More generous that I’d ‘ave guessed you t’ be,’ Tyres says, one eyebrow slightly raised. ‘So, partin’ of the ways now is it?’

 

‘Not quite,’ the kid pipes up, and Barrett wants to die. ‘Me an’ Howard – sorry, Barrett – we ain’t splitting up yet, right?’ He looks at Barrett, the gleam of victory in his eyes. ‘Weren’t that what you were sayin’? Before Tyres turned up?’

 

There’s only one way Barrett can save this, the way Tyres is looking at him. ‘Fuck off. I’m not your fucking nanny.’ He turns to Tyres, ‘Pub? I think we can afford a few rounds.’

 

Sweet laughs sarcastically, ‘Oh yeah, forgot you had your proper bum-buddy back now. Bet he don’t know all them things that make you squirm though, like –‘

 

There’s a dull crunching sound as Barrett’s fist connects with Sweet’s cheekbone. The force is enough to send him sprawling on his hands and knees, and when he looks up there is already a bruise sprouting bright red-purple on his upper cheek. Through his mute shock, a disinterested voice in Barrett’s brain informs him that it will be a black eye by morning. His knuckles sting, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s dislocated one of them or something – it’s been that long since he’s properly hit someone – but that comes second to the way the kid’s looking at him.

 

‘I didn’t mean…’ he starts, pathetically. Sweet scrambles to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans and leaving little streaks of blood where the concrete bit into his palms.

 

‘Fuck you,’ he states, apparently summoning all the venom he possesses. He turns and begins stalking away, hands in his pockets, back hunched and head down.

 

Barrett wracks his brains for something to make him stop. ‘The car!’ he calls after him, ‘It’s yours, remember?’

 

Sweet doesn’t even turn around.

.

Comments

[mr-i-jones.livejournal.com]

um...
i think something may be broken in your post if you haven't noticed already...

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

I know, html always does this to me...

TO EVERYONE: Am fixing, k?

[gracefulstalker.livejournal.com]

Haven't read yet but nnnggghhh! Mint Royale! Oh it's been too long *hugs AU*

[imhit.livejournal.com]

I love you so much for carrying this on! Arrg, this was amazing. The angst! The love! The mistletoe! I love how you write them.

So sad the next part will be the last... please fix them!

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

:D Thank you! Yep, part seven will be the last part posted on the haven, but I'm hopinh to keep writing snippets of them on my journal, so friend me if you want access to them :)

[imhit.livejournal.com]

Added! :)

[jackiethomas73.livejournal.com]

It's good to see this back again. I like the way you built up the tension between the two of them. I was just waiting for something bad to happen - and it did.

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Well, it was all really just going too well, wasn't it? I'm glad you liked!

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

I felt a bit mean for writing it :P But it wouldn't be Mint Royale without a bit of angst!

Thank you :)

[drop-the-phone.livejournal.com]

Oh, those boys.

I should probably stop fangirling you soon, but, like, no. (is coherent, right?)

I love you and I love Sweet and I love mean!scary!Barrett (more than I maybe should)

ALSO! Gratuitous James May icon!

LOVELOVELOVE YOU
x x x x x x x

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

XD

I find scary!Barrett a bit strange. He's so restrained most of the time, but it's kinda fun to let out his darker side now and again ;-)

D: I just glanced at your icon and thought it was Julian...

loveyoubiglots
xxxxxxxxxxx

[spice-merchant.livejournal.com]

this is so good

nooooooooo vincey come back come baaack

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Thanks XD

Maybe he will... maybe he won't... *is mysterious and enigmatic and that*

[jcheartsboosh.livejournal.com]

Yay, more of this.

I was only thinking about this the other day, spooky.

I loved it and can't wait for the next (last? nooooooo) part. :)

xx

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

I've been feeling so guilty for leaving it for so long, I'm happy people still like it :)

If I can keep my muse, the next part should only be the last 'official' part. I'm hoping to do some other snippets (and probably a fair bit of pwp) just on my personal journal :)

Thanks!

[gracefulstalker.livejournal.com]

!!!

This makes me happy! I was a bit apprehensive that the characters would be a bit disconnected since the last time you wrote them but they match perfectly! I thought that this one was the last one, and I was like "woah, that's a brave place to leave it" but YAY FOR MISREADING :D

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Hee :D It helped that I'd done at least half the chapter about a week after part 5 was posted, so I wasn't jumping fresh into a new chapter.

I'm happy you're happy :D

[splatterdick.livejournal.com]

Wow, thrilled to see this on my friends page! MR always produces good fic, and I love your series. Can't wait for the next.

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Glad your liking :D Not sure yet when I'll be able to get the next part up, depends how long I can cling onto my muse for. But I'm hoping it won't be long!

[thecatinthetree.livejournal.com]

I like this :)
Read the whole lot in one go :D

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Wow, I'm impressed! Thanks for reading :D

[artofange.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you continued!

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you're glad XD

[dustyejolene.livejournal.com]

Gah! I've loved this series so far. Splendid angst. I do hope that there will be a little fluff'n'bumming in the next part? And more angst?

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Ahhh, all will be revealed in due course ;-)

Thanks!

[meobnal.livejournal.com]

Yay, 'nother chapter!
Man, I was ready to hit Vince myself in the end! Can't wait to see how Barret is going to fix this ;)

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

I feel a bit sorry for Barrett, tbh. He's got no idea how to handle all this, poor bean.

Thanks!

[xthursdaynextx.livejournal.com]

ohgod, I hope there's another part to this....Love it, really good fic :)

[blewoutthestars.livejournal.com]

Wow, I'm amazed that anyone is still reading these old things! Thank you!

Sadly I never did post the last chapter - when I was finishing this fic I had just moved to university and in all the uproar it just sort of fell by the wayside. I'm really glad you've enjoyed it though; who knows, maybe one day that elusive plot bunny will return.

[shoulderpads88.livejournal.com]

I hope the plot bunny will come to you! This is a great fic!! I enjoyed it thoroughly!