Chapter Text
“Careful with that. It’s strong. Just a few gulps is enough to get some individuals drunk,” came a voice that’s come to be more familiar, the more times Zuka visits this bar. The demon didn’t even spare him a glance, before going back to cleaning an empty glass.
“Well, I ain’t just your average demon, now am I?” Zuka shrugged off his coat and grasped the drink, some of its contents spilling onto the counter in the process. He twisted his wrist, watching the coloured liquid slosh around through his azure shades.
With his signature grin, the demon chugged it all in one swig. The overpowering bitterness, mixed with the sheer coldness of the beverage, almost caused a reaction out of him, yet the man simply gulped it down and let out a sigh.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Zuka commented, as if he were boasting about an achievement. With a shove, he slid the glass across the table.
“In fact, I’m up for another one,” The soldier added, much to the dismay of the bartender.
“If any bad decisions are made, you’ve only got yourself to blame.”
The warm hues of the evening skin gradually dissolved into a dark assortment of indigos. With the moon being concealed by murky clouds, the only sources of lighting were the illuminated lamps inside the hostelry, tainting everything in layers of vermillion.
The pub was now filled to the brim with demons. Civilians and Phighters; allies and enemies; strangers and familiar faces, alike, all gathered at this very location after work-hours.
Zuka mindlessly listened in on their conversations. The chattering blended in with the faint jazz emitting from the jukebox. They seemed to be chatting away nonchalantly, no matter their faction or status.
How come a bar had become one of the “safest places” in this day and age?
Zuka scoffed at that thought, and continued lounging at a table away from the crowds, head leaned forward and a half-empty cup in front of him. Any other person would just assume he had fallen unconscious after having too much to drink.
But that one knew better than that.
“Say, Zuka, is this seat taken?” The navy-horned being unknowingly focused on the owner of that playful tone, tuning out all other sounds until that voice was the only thing ringing in his ears.
An anomaly who’s known for his eccentricities, one of the most wanted individuals in all of the world, yet his true name remains a mystery to even the most formidable enforcers. Simply referring to himself as “The Broker”, to those who inquired about it.
As for his past, it was always a new tale every day. Truths, lies, corroborations, contradictions, all hidden behind a smile that’s just, a bit too genial.
Seriously, did The Broker himself even know the answers to everyone’s questions?
Then, there’s their relationship. Zuka wasn’t even sure how to describe it. Mere “acquaintances” would be an understatement, and the term “friends” always left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, no matter who he was alluding to.
Referring to someone as anything more than that, however, was a risky move to say the least. Hell, even “significant other”, platonic or not, would put both parties in danger.
In a world where a mere slash was all that divided the two existences of life and death, it’d be best to pretend those words never existed in the first place. Yet, they were expected to sacrifice everything for the false promise of a greater future.
So, work partners it was. Even if The Broker omits the “work” part a lot.
“I’ll take your silence as a no, then!” In one swift motion, The Broker hopped on the desk in front of Zuka, placing both feet on the cushion. This action caused the table to wobble, letting out a faint creaking sound.
For a man trying to keep as low of a profile as possible, he did have a few idiosyncrasies. But, it seemed that only those eyes were drawn to his behaviour.
“So, what brings you here?” Rather than responding to the comments of a madman, the soldier continued sitting there, quietly observing every little movement of the man before him through his lenses.
Looking up, his gaze was met by two upturned eyes, staring back at him. As he glanced away, the smile on the shorter man’s face only grew wider.
“Ignoring someone who’s trying to talk to you, don’t ‘cha think that’s a bit rude?”
The Broker shifted to his right, now directly facing the other demon.
“Not much of a talker today, Zuka? I’ll give you one last chance, before I make you talk.”
He closed his eyes and hummed along to the music at the bar, occasionally opening an eye to check if Zuka had decided to give up yet.
“You’re just going to keep staring, aren’t you! I’m flattered, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
The shorter one shuffled around, tail swaying back and forth to the beat of the music, before it curled around the other’s neck in the blink of an eye. This nearly caused a vase to tip over.
The sharp end of his tail pricked the bottom of the soldier’s chin, barely grazing the skin. Zuka was pretty confident he wasn’t going to do much with that “makeshift knife”, but his unpredictable nature was just enough to keep him weary.
The pressure on his neck kept getting tighter and tighter, limiting the amount of air that entered his lungs. Even the enigma himself found their current position uncomfortable, until…
“Alright, alright! What do you want?” he spat those words out, tugging on the tail and glaring daggers at the individual above him.
“Worked like a charm! Hehe!” The Broker beamed, releasing his throat in an instant before hopping off the table, and landing on Zuka before he could even take a single breath.
One of the lunatic’s knees dug into his abdomen, eliciting a cough from the sheer impact of the action.
Noticing this, The Broker shifted into a more pleasant position for the both of them, but he refused to get off entirely.
“Careful now, wouldn’t want to end up on the news like last time.”
“What’s someone like you even doing here? Thought you’d be busy with work for an extra hour, at least.” He ended the sentence with a hiccup.
“My clientele were particularly cooperative today, so I could retire early for the night,” The dealer chuckled. “Good, I wouldn’t want to get my favourite outfit dirty!”
“Looks pretty similar to all your other ones to me.” The older demon muttered, rolling his eyes.
The respondent merely hummed along, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that statement.
“Enough about me, how’s little Rocket doing? You could’ve given me a call if you needed a babysitter!” The Broker hooked his arm around the other’s neck. “It’d just cost you a bux or two.”
“Kid’s staying over at one of his buddies’ houses. Good for him.” Zuka smiled a bit, before continuing. “Besides, he’s more scared of you than anything else in the world.”
The shorter one giggled yet again, in response. Then, he averted his gaze towards the alcohol on the table, bits of it staining the tablecloth due to his previous antics.
He picked it up, closing an eye and inspecting the concoction, before taking a gulp without saying a word.
“You got me something, too! I’m honoured!” He commented, in a sing-song voice.
“As a matter of fact, I was gonna drink that.”
“No you weren’t! You’re smarter than that, Zuka.”
He demonstrated that by finishing the rest of the booze, eyeballing the other with a cheeky grin. The soldier was about to let out a protest, before holding his breath and deciding against it. His furrowed eyebrows smoothing out as the liquor washed over him.
The Broker sat up a bit, then rested the back of his hand against the older’s face. His touch was even colder than the intoxicant, a stark contrast to the taller one’s flushed cheek. A form of contact he couldn’t help but lean into.
The muttering and mumbling of all the other patrons dissolved into nothing but static, with Zuka losing the ability to differentiate the voices from one another.
“Not smart enough to stay sober, though.”
And yet, that voice was as clear as ever.
He was smiling, as always, but this grin deviated from the usual ones he’d have plastered on his face. The other’s ultramarine shades made it impossible to catch the pale tint of colour that had appeared on his face.
“Getting drunk in public like this, aren’t ‘cha worried that someone could ambush you any second now?” His slight change in tone hadn’t gone unnoticed, but the exact emotion conveyed was difficult to pinpoint.
It wasn’t a side The Broker actively refused to portray, just one far too unlike his usual demeanour, that made both seem incompatible at times.
That seemed to clear Zuka’s mind for a bit. “The only one… damn stupid enough to do somethin’ like that would be you,” he sighed, “And do you really think you can take me on?”
As soon as the oddity noticed the other regaining his focus, that slight bit of genuinity was forcibly replaced with his usual contrivance.
“Mhm, sure I can!”
Yet neither of them made a move, or even a sound, after those words.
Zuka turned towards the crowds in the middle of the bar, not like he could make out much, but at least the occasional yell or shattering of a bottle kept him amused enough to stay awake. One whose life is shrouded in violence eventually learns to seek it.
While The Broker preferred looking out the window, the horizon was nowhere to be found, and the ground and sky became one in the same. The occasional demon emerged from or was consumed by the shadows, but nobody in particular showed up.
Perhaps it was a good thing that the younger demon finished that drink off, while he could. The booze was stronger than the other ones he’s had, still not strong enough to knock him out, though.
Zuka bit his tongue, despite not voicing any of his drunken thoughts audibly.
Maybe he shouldn’t challenge that, who knows what would’ve happened. He almost snickered at the thought of himself starting a stupid bar fight.
Or perhaps it was just a distraction from acknowledging what else could’ve happened. Who knows.
“Hey.” Seems like that was the other demon’s cue to snap him out of his trance. He flicked his fingers mere inches away from Zuka’s face, even though his words, alone, were certainly enough to awaken him.
“Strikin’ up another conversation?” Zuka realised his shades were missing from how mismatched all the colours looked, but he wasn’t inclined to care at this point.
Shit. He wasn’t planning on blabbering this time.
The soldier retracted his fingers a few times as the other stalled for a bit. He had long since lost all feeling in his arms due to hours of disuse, especially since his partner over there had now switched to leaning on him.
At least he was sitting, relatively normally, this time.
“Just gonna sit and stare? Try taking your own advice, Br—“
“Do you see yourself getting married?”
What.
“You’ve got little Rocket already!” The Broker leaned in even closer, in an exaggerated fashion. “So, Zuka, ever thought about finding a spouse too?”
Great save, but where is this exchange going.
“The booze must’ve gotten to you,” The scarved man snickered, before groaning into his palm. “Can’t believe this damn job’s taken the majority of my life already.”
The next time he turned his head to face the other demon, that grin’s been wiped clean off his face. Any amount of hostility was nowhere to be seen, leaving only a lethargic demon in its wake.
Because that’s what he’s become. Even if he still seems as egotistical as he was during his early years, Zuka’s been desensitised by the world around him. He’s no different than any other soldier.
The Broker couldn’t believe he actually missed that irksome optimism the demon held during his youth.
Noticing the suffocating silence between them, Zuka smirked, only making him seem more pitiful if anything. “What can I say, just the ramblings of a tipsy man.” He hiccuped. “Damn, any more drunk, and I might actually let you kill me.”
Yet, his familiar complied with his silent request. He found it way less depressing than whatever’s this was supposed to be, and it definitely wasn’t fitting of the dynamic they’ve created.
“Guess that’s a no then,” he replied, shifting in his seat, “then won’t you consider this generous offer of mine?”
“If we’re both single by the time we’re… Let’s say, forty, then let’s just marry each other! Deal?”
Zuka sneered at that statement, his head turning towards the window. The soldier’s mouth was crooked up into a cynical smile, yet the rest of his face was devoid of any emotion.
“Forty, huh? It really isn’t as far as you think,” He remarked.
“For you, maybe! I’ve still got…” The other demon pretended to count using his fingers. “A decade, or so.”
“That’s to say we’re both still breathing, by the time you’re supposed to make it there.”
“And if we are?”
Zuka snapped his head towards The Broker, the scarlet lamps shining brighter than ever, to the point his eyes were sore from just looking at them.
His eyes remained squinted, whether it be from the lights, the booze, or pure doubt. The taller demon opened his lips, his heart lodged in the back of his throat, before deciding against it.
“It ain’t common for demons to be in relationships with one another, so what’s the point of your deal?”
The Broker shot up, pinching Zuka’s cheek and watching his face contort even further, clearly gaining some form of amusement from this.
“We’re already romantically involved, so it isn’t that far of a stretch.”
“You call this romance?”
“If I were any other,” he cleared his throat mid-sentence. “Work partner, you would’ve blown my arm off right this instance! But fine, I’ll simply say we’re involved if you so wish!”
The soldier bit his tongue until it drew blood, preventing any unwanted words from coming out, while staring at his companion as he chattered away. How he could ramble on for so long without going out of breath, was just another unsolved mystery in his long line of cases.
His attention, or whatever was left of it, was entirely focused on him. Only being interrupted by the occasional hiccup or two.
“So, what do you say?”
His words, however, not as much.
The Broker had now released the other’s skin from his grasp, removing his gloves before offering the same hand to the other. The man leaned in a bit, turning his neck so his ear was facing the other. Quite eager for an answer, if the tapping of his shoes were anything to go by.
Or was it dread which fueled the beating of his heart?
Zuka glanced between that theatrical smirk on the shorter’s face, and his scarred fist. The former couldn’t believe he was actually considering that swindler’s proposition.
God, was he really going through with this?
The phighter groaned, before gripping onto the other’s palm and shaking it once, then letting go immediately.
Yes, he was.
“Deal.”
The Broker’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he felt something inside his chest constrict uncomfortably. That simple word, one he’d hear on a daily basis, somehow became significant enough to ring in his ears over and over again.
“Music to my ears.” Was all he said as his expression morphed once again. Still, that slight glint in the other’s eyes told Zuka his Cheshire grin was far more than just another façade.
The Broker never actually answered the second part of his question; what he’d gain from it. But Zuka had a hunch he’d figured it out already. Not like the former would’ve answered him either way, that was simply how he operated.
“As always, you’re free to back out anytime you’d like,” he closed his eyes and swung his legs around, “as long as you’re willing to deal with the consequences.”
Ominous as ever.
The Broker’s tail hooked around the empty container, fidgeting with it before accidentally letting it slip from his grasp. Zuka didn’t even notice it happening until he heard a harsh shattering sound.
“Don’t.”
Without even sparing the fragments a glance, the younger’s appendage scooped up a few shards and popped them into his mouth. The other squinted his eyes and backed away, while he simply chewed on the pieces with a clueless look on his face.
“You drank it all already, so why the hell would you still do that…” his associate grimaced in response.
“Less work for the employees, while I get a free meal. You can’t really blame me for that!”
Zuka dropped his shoulders in exasperation, then tilted his head upwards, but all that awaited was the now, dimly lit ceiling of the bar. The large hordes had vanished already, leaving only a few murky faces, The Broker, and him. Not like he was anticipating anything else, really.
He could feel his eyelids grow heavier and heavier with every breath, almost being overtaken by sleep, if it weren’t for his associate pulling him by the collar.
“Leaving little Rocket waiting at the door, like a poor dog in the rain… Though funny, wouldn’t be a good look for you. Hehe!” The mischievous demon laughed at the idea, only to be met with Zuka’s irritated glare.
“Hm, not funny?” He wrapped the drunk man’s arm around himself, before slowly getting up. “Then you better hurry up before it becomes a reality!”
Trying to support the weight of his partner was harder than it seemed, especially considering their size difference. Nonetheless, he succeeded, even if the shorter’s knees were shaking a little.
The man brushed the dust off of his knees and fixed his uniform a bit, as if he had even the slightest bit of dignity. He did the same for Zuka, using his tail instead of his hands, before hanging that discarded coat around his shoulders.
“You can still stand, right?” A sincere question slipped out of his lips. “Unless a few shots of alcohol is all it takes, to knock out the almighty B. Zuka?” He forced a second sentence out of himself, in an attempt to keep up the charades.
A game in which you lose by playing; and win by quitting.
“Yeah.” Zuka nodded and detached his arm off from the other’s shoulder, stumbling backwards a bit before leaning on a table for support. “Just give me a hand.”
And of course, he was only provided with a tail that immediately intertwined itself with the soldier’s fingers upon contact.
“I said a hand.”
“A tail! Take it or leave it.”
“Now come on! Let’s get you home before you throw up on my suit.” The Broker pulled out an identical replica of the other’s keys out of seemingly nowhere, letting it jingle around as he swayed to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“‘Cause it’s your favourite?”
The younger demon looked back, placing the other’s shades back on him and covering his eyes, before planting a kiss on his lips.
It was devoid of any meaning, of any sense whatsoever. Too kitschy to be tender; too sentimental to be ironic; too restrained to be passionate; too drawn out to be chaste. It left them indecisive, hesitating before backing away.
A combination of everything they needed, but so far from anything they wanted.
“It’s the same as any other suit, isn’t it, ‘darling’?”
Well, he’s only got himself to blame for that.