[The City Adel] (Pevi/Ivahn) "But The Past Ain’t Through With You" Theme #12: gangsters Title: But The Past Ain’t Through With You Author:ivoryandhorn Fandom: Original – The City Adel Pairing: Pevi/Ivahn Rating: PG Warnings: swearing, light m/m Theme: Cosplay #12: gangsters Notes: ~2500 words. It took me four tries to hit an angle on Pevi-and-Ivahn-are-gangsters that really appealed, but I think I’m finally happy with how it came out. Summary: Leaving’s never as easy as you think.
Ivahn paused at the top of the stairs, eyes trained on the door to his apartment. When he’d left this morning he was very sure that his newspaper had, in fact, been sitting on the doormat, still snug in its plastic wrapping.
It wasn’t there now.
After discreetly making sure no neighbors were watching, he silently stepped up to his door, fumbling loudly with his keys against the lock as his free hand reached under his jacket. Anthony Monaghan had a permit to carry a concealed weapon, even if it was Ivahn Chandlersohn who knew how to use it.
In one quick motion he stepped through the door, kicked it shut and leveled the gun at the man sitting on his couch and calmly reading his newspaper. The shock of steel-grey hair behind it was as uncomfortably familiar as the weight and heft of the weapon in his hand.
He heard the door lock behind him with a quiet click.
There was a long quiet moment, where Ivahn felt someone step up behind him and a knife slide under his chin
Then the newspaper rustled and a tanned face emerged from behind it, wearing an easy grin.
“Hello to you too, Sub-Z,” he said cheerfully, nodding at the gun. The man made a show of folding up the paper, settling it on his lap. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”
“What are you doing here?” Ivahn said flatly. This was familiar too, the mantle of cold settling on his shoulders as easy and comfortable as an old shirt he should’ve thrown out years ago.
Pevi sat back, blue-green eyes guileless. He wore his suit the same as he ever had, with a kind of casual disregard for its formality. When they’d been younger it’d made him look scruffy, like he was just too lazy to wear it right. Now that he’d grown into the height and frame and confidence the look needed to make it look natural, like it was the most obvious way of wearing a suit in the world. It looked better on him now than it used to. “Can’t a couple of old friends drop by to say hello?” he asked.
“When they’re Stainless and Steel? No.”
“I’m hurt, I really am,” Pevi sighed, his face the very essence of kicked puppy. Ivahn was disconcerted to find that he almost felt bad for being so crass as to level a gun at the people who had broken in his apartment. “All I wanted to do was lighten up your day.”
“You could start by leaving.”
“Could you finish up with the passive-aggressive banter?” the woman behind him interjected, sounding bored. “We have more important business here.”
“What business?” he asked challengingly.
“Your dear old Dad—“ Pevi began.
“I left,” Ivahn hissed. “And he agreed!”
“Your dear old Dad,” Pevi continued unperturbed, “finds your end of the bargain to be upheld, shall we say, less than satisfactorily.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped. Ivahn flipped through months’ worth of memories. The fiction of the Anthony Monaghan was, even if Ivahn said so himself, about as close to watertight was it was possible to be; he was sure he hadn’t ever let anything slip. Pretty sure.
“You going to tell me that you didn’t have anything to do with Marden Chandlersohn’s arrest?” The newspaper rustled as Pevi tossed it on the coffee table, front page prominent: beneath the loud headline was a smudgy photo of what was undeniably Ivahn’s father, looking like he was heading out for a evening stroll and being led away in handcuffs.
“Arrest?” Ivahn felt the blood drain from his face, though he kept the gun steady. “He was—arrested?”
“You’re the only man who’s ever threatened him and lived to walk away from it.” Pevi flicked the sentence out as smoothly as a striking snake, with the air of someone laying down a winning hand and preparing to sit back and watch his opponents gibber and fold.
“He kept up his side of the deal,” Ivahn pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean you did.”
“Why would I sell him out and then hang around town?” he shot back.
“I told you,” a voice murmured behind him, sounding bored.
“Yelina, if we can save the gloating until after we have his help—“
Ivahn jumped on the sentence. “My help with what?”
“Who’s going to pay for your fancy education with your dad gone?” Pevi challenged.
“My mother—“
“Is busy trying to keep everything together while your dad rots in jail.”
“Pevi, shut up.” Yelina said as she stepped back. The heels of her boots clicked on the tiles as she walked around him, taking up position somewhere between the two of them, eyes fixed on Ivahn. Combined with the way she wore her hair pulled back into a severe bun, he suddenly felt about ten years younger, about to get a lecture from his tutors about forgetting his homework.
“I was trying to go for the subtle approach,” Pevi said sullenly. “Not my fault it didn’t work.”
“What my brother is spectacularly failing at saying is this,” Yelina continued, ignoring her brother. Sometimes it was hard to believe they were twins; Pevi’s face was expressive and mobile where Yelina’s was stern and still. “You’re the only one free to help. Jarod’s tied up helping your mom keep the family together. Annetta and Sebastchen are going into hiding. That leaves you to help us find the rat. Enough people still know your face as Chandlersohn’s bastard that you can help scare them into telling us what we need to know. The sooner we find them, the sooner you go back to school and the fewer assholes we get trying to take a chunk of Chandlersohn territory.”
“I haven’t shot anyone in years,” he said, stalling. He didn’t want to admit that Yelina was making sense, because he’d left and Ivahn wasn’t going to go back without a fight. Even for family.
“It’s not the kind of thing you ever forget,” Pevi said with a shake of his head. “Don’t try to tell me you’ve lost your aim.”
“You’re a good shot.”
“But I’m no Sub-Z.” He smiled as he continued blithely, “You looked ready to ice me just now.” The way he said it said that this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Ivahn felt a distant echo of the comfort that tone used to bring him, years ago when they were Sub-Z and Steely.
“I’m not that person anymore,” Ivahn said instead, taking a steadying breath. “I left.”
“Can’t take the killer out of the boy.” He didn’t miss the way Pevi’s gaze lingered on him, sweeping up and down, lingering, considering. “Not that you’re much of a boy anymore.”
Ivahn wanted to say no, he was wrong, but on the other hand his first impulse on finding his morning newspaper missing had been to level a fully loaded gun at his former best friend’s head, so maybe he didn’t have anything to say after all.
Pevi got up off the couch and sauntered over, laying one broad hand over the gun pressing it down. Ivahn let him. “Why don’t I help you pack up so we can get going?”
“Fine.” He turned away, holstering his gun as he turned away from them. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I would hate to have had to knife you,” Pevi said behind him. “I like you better when you’re covered in other people’s blood.”
“Shut up,” Ivahn mumbled, and stepped into his bedroom. He wasn’t surprised to slam the door behind him, only to hear it close with gentle click instead, as Pevi caught it and closed it for him.
He ignored the other man as much as he could, instead pulling out a tote bag and rifling through his closet for the clothes he’d need. The soft creak of bedsprings told him that Pevi had helped himself to a seat, the ass.
“Nice place,” he said. Ivahn ignored him.
A pause. “So how’s school working out for you?”
Ivahn pulled out a duffel and tossed it on the floor beside him, resolutely facing away from his bed.
“I’d say you look the same as ever, but to be honest you look better.”
Another pause, more awkward than the one before. “Did you quit smoking? I don’t see an ashtray.”
Finally he heard Pevi give an exasperated sigh. On the mirror mounted inside his closet door, Ivahn saw Pevi scrub a hand through his hair in a gesture that was familiar in a better way than holding a gun. It made his short, spiky hair even spikier, sticking up at odd angles that were at odds with his suit. “C’mon, say something. It’s going to be a boring few weeks if you won’t say anything to me.”
“Why should I have anything to say to you?” he replied at last, keeping his tone cool.
“Aw, come on. Don’t tell you don’t miss the excitement sometimes.”
“Not particularly.”
Pevi at least had the grace to flinch. “Ouch.”
For some reason, the way his smile vanished made Ivahn turn around to face him. “It was never about you.”
“I figured,” he said. “Eventually.”
“…Oh.”
“Yeah.” Pevi gave him a rueful little look. “Took me a while, though.”
“Good.”
“Oh, for—look, I’m sorry we strongarmed you into it, okay, but we don’t really have a choice.”
“I know. Which is why I’m agreed to it. As opposed to hightailing it out of town while your corpses cool in my apartment.”
“Eh, Yelina would have slit your throat first.”
“I can pull a trigger faster than she can slit a throat.”
Pevi grinned. “There’s something vaguely poetic about that. I like it.”
“Yes, because gruesome double murders are always so romantic.”
He laughed and pushed off the bed, drifting to where Ivahn was standing, arms full of jeans. “You haven’t changed at all, Sub-Z.”
“I’m not Sub-Z anymore.”
“No? What should I call you then? Anthony? You never liked it when I called you Ivahn.” Pevi was close now, too close. He desperately wanted to have another five feet between them, but he couldn’t figure how to move without it looked like turning tail and running. “I’ll have to think of something better,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ll have to help me.”
“Stop that,” Ivahn snapped.
“Stop what?”
“You know what you’re doing,” Ivahn replied. “You can’t flirt me back into the business, Pevi.”
And then Pevi said quietly, “I still miss you.”
The sad thing was that Ivahn really did. He felt it sometimes himself, still. Sometimes he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t gone the blackmailing route and had simply gotten Pevi too drunk to protest, stuffed him in a car, and driven as far away as he could, so they could start over somewhere new. But the reality was that Pevi was still part of the life he’d wanted to leave behind—now more than ever, in fact. He knew very well who had become Chandlersohns’ top hitmen when Sub-Z had vanished.
“The killing or the fucking?” he asked.
“Don’t be like that,” Pevi replied. “I was high as a kite when I told you to go through with it. I wouldn’t’ve told you to leave if I’d actually believed you meant it.”
“I know that,” Ivahn replied. When had Pevi gotten this close? “Who do you think gave you the pot? I just…”
Pevi tilted his head inquisitively. “Just what?”
“I just needed to hear you say it,” Ivahn exhaled. They were inches apart. He wondered if Pevi had grown since he’d left; he didn’t remember their eyes being this close to level. “I guess I needed to feel like I had the support.”
“I was scared stiff when I found out what you’d done.” Pevi’s hand hovered over his side, then settled carefully on Ivahn’s hip. He didn’t push it away. “I thought you’d end up shot for sure. And that I’d have to pull the trigger.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, my Dad’s not that stupid,” Ivahn snorted to hide his nerves. He didn’t…what was Pevi trying to pull? It was a little late for heartfelt declarations of love, wasn’t it. “He’s always been for avoiding drama in the ranks.”
Pevi caught his eyes, holding them. His face was serious now; no joking around anymore. Ivahn used to wonder how much of that had been sincere, because sometimes the way Pevi could flip it on and off was unnerving. Like now.
“I’m so glad you’re not dead,” he whispered, and Ivahn forgot to breathe.
“Does that mean you’re going to get out of my face now?” he said, trying to cover the moment. He wanted Pevi to get away, like this was just…too easy to remember the good things, too easy to focus on the regret that had accompanied his departure.
Pevi just leaned in closer, body pressed up against the jeans Ivahn was clutching to his chest like they were a barrier between him and before. “Do you want me too?”
No. “Yes.”
Pevi kissed him—gently, just brushing lips against the corner of Ivahn’s mouth but without thinking he turned into it and Pevi took it for the invitation it was, however unwilling, the hand on Ivahn’s hip sliding around his back.
“I said yes,” Ivahn mumbled into his mouth, trying to ignore how easily they’d gone from death threats to making out. “What part of that did you not understand?”
“All of it,” Pevi said cheerfully. He nipped Ivahn’s lower lip before pulling away. “You should probably finish packing.”
Ivahn nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and finished filling his bag. He didn’t have suits; Anthony Monaghan wasn’t the type to be dress formal and anyway it might have made him a little too recognizable. Sub-Z would have to find some soon, though, if he wanted to have his reappearance taken seriously.
Yelina nodded to them as they exited his bedroom, neatly folding the newspaper she’d been reading and leading the way out of the apartment. Ivahn locked the door behind him, for what he hoped wouldn’t be the final time. As they walked down the stairs, Pevi slid his hand onto the small of Ivahn’s back—not quite possessive, not quite guiding, but far too familiar and sure.
Ivahn stepped away as soon as they reached the parking lot, studiously ignoring Pevi’s face. As far as he was concerned, this was just going to be a brief vacation from being Anthony. He still wasn’t going back. Not for anything. Not for anyone.