[It gets him to laugh, anyway . . . that's definitely something. And he absolutely makes it his priority to keep Ling straddling that fine line between riled up and yet not so much so that he'll leave, which is a delicate sort of balance. But it's worth it for the guarantee that he'll be thinking of Greed ages and ages after tonight.
They fall asleep sooner or later, the sounds of Joy Division still pumping in the background. The morning comes and goes, because when you work the night shift you tend to miss those hours regardless. So it's only once the sun's started creeping down towards the horizon that he wakes, right next to his phone buzzing insistently over and over in his ear. He groans as he peels himself away from Ling (who is, if possible, even clingier in his sleep than he is when he's awake).
The texts that appear on his phone, one after another after another, sentences from friends and one-word cryptic messages from others, are worrying. Worrying enough that his trepidation must show on his face, because soon Ling is sleepily asking if everything's all right.
Don't worry about it, is all he says, and starts to try and find something decent to wear for his shift tonight.
And for a few weeks, things are . . . stable. Easy. Almost blissful, honestly, save for the fear niggling in the back of his mind. Ling stays over twice more, stealing his shirts, taking him out to dinner and reveling in being able to share the depths of his knowledge for food. He shows off a few other things, too-- turns out the kid can keep up a fight! he's a little too clean right now, he needs to know some hideously cruel tricks if he wants to ever win, but he's way better than Greed thought he'd be-- and Greed generously returns the favor.
Ling can mix drinks now. How delightful.
What they're doing isn't a secret, but there's one day where nobody really realizes, and then Ling walks in proudly wearing one of Greed's shirts, and that's the end of that. Greed gets a lot of comments for that one, but you know what, Dolcetto, he knows who he fucks so he's really got no room to start making comments.
Asshole.
But they congratulate Ling, anyway, all in their own separate ways. Actually, they make a lot of comments on how Ling could do way better, but it's said in teasingly, which means that Ling's now gotten just a little closer to the Devil's Nest staff. He's one of them now, another little stray adopted by Greed, an outcast in some fashion or another and now brought to their little home.
It makes something in his chest twist joyfully to see that. Ling (his Ling), cheerfully addressing Roa or going toe to toe with Martel, fitting in even more smoothly than before. It's a warmth he's unused to feeling, and he savors the feeling.
Of course it doesn't last.
It's around three in the morning Ling gets a series of texts, one after another:]
no subject
They fall asleep sooner or later, the sounds of Joy Division still pumping in the background. The morning comes and goes, because when you work the night shift you tend to miss those hours regardless. So it's only once the sun's started creeping down towards the horizon that he wakes, right next to his phone buzzing insistently over and over in his ear. He groans as he peels himself away from Ling (who is, if possible, even clingier in his sleep than he is when he's awake).
The texts that appear on his phone, one after another after another, sentences from friends and one-word cryptic messages from others, are worrying. Worrying enough that his trepidation must show on his face, because soon Ling is sleepily asking if everything's all right.
Don't worry about it, is all he says, and starts to try and find something decent to wear for his shift tonight.
And for a few weeks, things are . . . stable. Easy. Almost blissful, honestly, save for the fear niggling in the back of his mind. Ling stays over twice more, stealing his shirts, taking him out to dinner and reveling in being able to share the depths of his knowledge for food. He shows off a few other things, too-- turns out the kid can keep up a fight! he's a little too clean right now, he needs to know some hideously cruel tricks if he wants to ever win, but he's way better than Greed thought he'd be-- and Greed generously returns the favor.
Ling can mix drinks now. How delightful.
What they're doing isn't a secret, but there's one day where nobody really realizes, and then Ling walks in proudly wearing one of Greed's shirts, and that's the end of that. Greed gets a lot of comments for that one, but you know what, Dolcetto, he knows who he fucks so he's really got no room to start making comments.
Asshole.
But they congratulate Ling, anyway, all in their own separate ways. Actually, they make a lot of comments on how Ling could do way better, but it's said in teasingly, which means that Ling's now gotten just a little closer to the Devil's Nest staff. He's one of them now, another little stray adopted by Greed, an outcast in some fashion or another and now brought to their little home.
It makes something in his chest twist joyfully to see that. Ling (his Ling), cheerfully addressing Roa or going toe to toe with Martel, fitting in even more smoothly than before. It's a warmth he's unused to feeling, and he savors the feeling.
Of course it doesn't last.
It's around three in the morning Ling gets a series of texts, one after another:]
hey you home
ling wake up
ling
answer me
HEY