Dean Barrett (oddsagainst) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2022-10-21 18:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | #july 2018, dean, dean x rory, rory |
Who: Rory and Dean
When: evening, Friday, July 6th
Where: The Back Porch
Status: complete
Dean had agonized quite a bit on whether or not to change his phone number when he left New York. It seemed like the safer thing to do, but he couldn’t exactly explain to everyone why he had a new number. He wasn’t even sure how tech-savvy the DeAngelo family was or if he was important enough for them to hire hackers to find him ... but he’d turned off all of the location-tracking stuff he could find in his phone, and he’d blocked all the numbers of people connected to them, and hoped for the best. So it was a bit of a nasty shock when a text from a number he didn’t know came through Friday afternoon. It was from Rory DeAngelo, and it used his real name while asking to meet up.
That made Dean nervous as fuck, but he still thought he had an upper hand here. From what he’d been told, Rory was a wayward runaway son, and his family was looking for him. Dean was willing to bet that Rory was the much bigger catch than he was, and that this trade could only go one way. They wouldn’t let a son they wanted back go free just for turning over some idiot with debt to them, right? Right. Dean had the advantage, and his life depended on making the most of it.
So they arranged to meet at the Porch. It was public, but not a place where people would eavesdrop, and there was no real chance of accidentally bumping into Grady. Dean showed up on time, getting soaked in the downpour just between the parking lot and the bar door, and he shook off his hands and wiped the rain from his face as he glanced around, looking for Rory and doing his best to brace himself for whatever was coming.
Rory arrived at The Porch early. He’d been taught that that gave him an advantage—he could scope out who already was there and pick the place for their meeting. He chose a table with a view of all exits, one that put his back against the wall. It felt safe, even though he was out in the open. He didn’t think Dean, the sheriff’s brother, would do anything stupid enough to incriminate himself in public. But he still had to be cautious. There were too many people looking for him if things went sideways.
It wasn’t just his family he had to worry about, but the Genovese family as well. He knew they wanted him dead, as they’d already tried once. If Dean had already called back home, they could be on their way there and then he was screwed, no matter how this meeting went. As he waited for Dean to arrive, he went over all the options he had, the tiny bit of leverage, both real and fictitious, and wondered about his chances of success. This was not his forte, but he would make it work. He had to. The alternative was packing up, leaving town, and starting over all over again. As easy as that sounded, they were working with fake IDs that could always show up as counterfeit. It was better to stay, if they could, than start the whole process over.
Rory’s heart began to race as soon as Dean stepped through the door, but he just took a sip of his drink, attempting to maintain his calm. This was like a card game, one in which he had a very big bluff to pull off. Hopefully the odds were in his favor tonight.
The bar wasn’t packed, it seemed the weather was keeping most people away, so it didn’t take Dean long to spot Rory sitting at a table. He seemed to be alone, but that didn’t mean much, any one of the other men hanging around could be a friend of his, ready to drag Dean out for a rainy beat down in the alley. Maybe that was a bit paranoid, but Dean felt it was warranted in this situation. He shrugged out of his jacket as he headed for the bar to get a drink of his own, a whiskey sour, nodding his thanks to the surly looking man who handed it over and took his cash. Dean carried the glass in one hand and his jacket in the other as he approached Rory’s table.
If he had been meeting a friend, he would’ve been all smiles and jolly hellos, but this was very different. Dean didn’t sit down across from him, as that would’ve put his back to the entire room, but he sat on the edge to Rory’s left instead. It wasn’t the ideal spot, but it was better than the alternative. “So,” Dean said as he settled in, gazing over at the other man. “Here I am.”
Dean sat closer than Rory would have liked, but he didn’t really expect him to put his back to the room either. He turned slightly in his chair to face him, still unsure of how to start the conversation when Dean spoke. “Here you are,” Rory said with a soft snort. “I take it you’d like to keep it that way, having family here and all.” There was a layer of protection there that Rory didn’t have, with Dean’s brother being the sheriff, but that was also a potential risk. If his family showed up to collect a debt, they wouldn’t hesitate to use innocent people the way Rory had, not if it made things equal. He didn’t think Dean’s debt was that bad though, not like his own. It offset the equation, making things more difficult than if they’d been equal. “I’d like to stay here myself, but I suppose that depends on you. Are you gonna make that difficult for me?”
Dean gave a cold little smile at the word ‘family.’ He already knew that Rory had done some homework on him somehow, if he’d gotten his number and real name, and it wasn’t a stretch at all to connect him to Grady. But did he know about Jen? Would he stoop low enough to use her against Dean? Dean had no idea yet. “I got no beef with you, man,” he said, spreading his hands a bit as he sat back in his chair. “I don’t give a shit where you are. I’m not here to fuck with your life, I’m just trying to save my own. I need you to help me, and as I’m sure you know, being who you are ... it’s a pretty dire need.” It was dire enough that he was going to do whatever it took to get out of this situation, even if those things ended up being unpleasant.
“You need me to help you,” Rory said, raising a brow as a hint of amusement crept into his voice. “And how do you propose I do that?” All the pull he’d ever had had been tied to his family name, a name he could no longer use or call upon. If Dean thought he could help him, then maybe he didn’t know how deep in shit Rory really was. That could work to his benefit, but it also might mean Dean might not understand how bad the repercussions were of alerting his family to his whereabouts. “I get dire situations. Been in plenty of them. They’re not so easy to untangle.” Certainly not with a phone call, and Rory didn’t have the cash to get anyone out of any jam, no matter how small.
He gave a little shrug, a faintly expectant smile on his face. “I don’t have a proposition,” he said. “You’re the insider, you know them, know the ins and outs, the people. You figure it out. But you’re gonna clear my debt and make sure they don’t come after me and mine ... or I gotta make a move myself. Give them something they want more than cash.” Dean arched a brow pointedly at Rory. He didn’t know all the details of what had happened, he’d just been told that Rory was missing, and it sure seemed like he didn’t want to be found. He was slumming it on Ludlow, for fuck’s sake. That had to mean he was desperate.
Any hint of a smile faded at what Dean was insinuating, Rory’s expression turning dead serious in a flash. “You don’t want them here,” he said. “Not even for me. You think playing snitch will cover your debt, you’re wrong. It’s bad form and they’re more likely to turn on you for ratting me out than they are to forgive whatever debt you’ve racked up. It’s a warped sense of loyalty—one of those ‘no one can beat on my brother but me’ type things.” Rory wasn’t sure it would apply to him in his particular situation, but he’d seen it happen. If Dean called the DeAngelo family into Point Pleasant, it would fuck up both their lives, no matter what his intentions were. “How deep are you in?” he asked. Even though he knew he didn’t have the money, he needed to know what Dean was dealing with. Maybe it was more manageable than he thought.
The part of Dean that knew he was just desperately bullshitting his way through this got very anxious, but he told himself Rory would say anything to save himself, just like Dean. He had to take everything with a grain of salt. He was safe here, this was his town, his brother’s town. His jaw clenched and his lips pressed together briefly before he answered. “Over 80K ... hopefully less than a hundred. I dunno what kind of penalties they’re slapping me with.” He’d skipped town before he’d had all the updated details beaten into him. Dean knew it was about more than the debt, it was that he’d fucked someone over on a deal only to get fucked over himself. He’d broken his word and they didn’t take kindly to that kind of shit either. If turning Rory over couldn’t clear his debt, Dean was hoping it could at least save his life.
“Fuck, man, you think I’d be hiding out in Point Pleasant if I 80K to spare?” It was probably too honest a retort, but it was that moment that Rory realized how truly fucked they both were if his family found them. They were as unlikely to forgive a debt like that as they were to forgive Rory’s deception. The fact that he’d run would only make it worse. Rory took a sip of his drink, now wishing he’d gotten something stronger, or perhaps a few more to follow. He’d wanted a clear mind, but now he wanted to get sloshed. “Does anybody know to look for you here? Friends or an ex or, shit, previous employer?” The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was just a matter of time before someone showed up looking for Dean. Finding Rory there too would be like hitting the jackpot.
Dean rolled his eyes a bit at the first part -- he definitely hadn’t been asking Rory to pay on his behalf. He’d been assuming that some strings could be pulled, some favors called in, but from what he was hearing it seemed that Rory was in deeper shit than Dean had thought. “No, nobody,” he answered. It probably wasn’t a good idea to chat with him if he was going to rat him out to his murderous family, but surely they wouldn’t seriously hurt one of their own, right? “I lived in New York for years and didn’t talk about my past. This place is fucked up, you know?” He took a swallow of his whiskey, then gave Rory a narrow eyed look. “So if you know who I am, you know who my brother is?”
Yeah, this place was fucked up. Rory knew that now, but they’d already jumped through so many hoops to settle in that he really didn’t want to move. Getting a job under an alias was a pain, too many people did background checks these days, but both he and Wes had managed it. They had a house—a rented one, but that was fine—and even a bit of furniture. A TV. Bottle openers and a handful of silverware and a fucking couch. If they had to run, none of that was coming with them. They couldn’t rent a trailer to move their shit, what little shit they had. The place was fucked up, but it had become home to Rory and Wes and he’d rather not pick up and leave unless Dean was forcing his hand. “Yeah, I know your brother’s the sheriff, but I take it he can’t do shit for you or you wouldn’t be talking to me,” Rory said, then his head cocked slightly to the side, a new perspective taking shape. “Or he doesn’t know because you haven’t told him. He’d put himself in danger or, worse, his daughter. Not on purpose, of course, but it’s not worth the risk.”
Anger flashed hot through Dean at the mention of Jen, and he sat up straighter, his gaze sharpening. Perhaps it was completely irrational, but it made him want to flip the table to hear Rory bring her up. “My family’s not your fuckin’ business, all right? You don’t know shit,” he said tightly, tapping a finger on the table so he didn’t slam his fist down on it. Dean didn’t need to make a scene and draw a bunch of attention to them. “The point is I’m safer here than anywhere else. You think anybody’s gonna protect you if your family shows up? Even if you’re in deep enough shit that you got no strings left to pull, there’s gotta be something you know that I can use. Some dirt on somebody, right?” He was grateful that his voice was steady, that he didn’t sound desperate ... but it was impossible to hide that he was in trouble. They both were, obviously.
Rory’s hands lifted off the table, flashing the universal sign of surrender before setting them back down. He’d misstepped and probably screwed them both over, but there was nothing he could do about it now except try to show Dean that he meant no harm. He wasn’t going to use a teenage girl as leverage, but he couldn’t promise anything from his family. He didn’t think they’d stoop that low, but he wouldn’t risk it if it was him. “You’re right. I don’t know shit, about you or anyone else. I’ll think on it, but I’ve been here for months.” And that was all he should probably say on that matter. Dean didn’t seem to have a clue about how bad things were for him or he’d know how useless he was for anything other than leverage. It was a point Rory really didn’t want to highlight. “If you’re safe here, why mess with it at all? They’re never gonna look here.”
Dean’s biggest fear was mishandling this volatile situation and bringing something bad down on Grady or Jen. Especially Jen. He didn’t know just how ruthless the DeAngelos could be -- he hoped they wouldn’t be cruel enough to involve an innocent teenage girl ... but what was that old saying? Wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which fills up first? Dean felt like his hopes were on that level of importance now. He didn’t believe that Rory didn’t know any juicy blackmail secrets, maybe he was just trying to keep them for himself. Maybe they weren’t big enough to get him out of whatever family trouble he was in, but maybe they would be big enough to help Dean. Of course, he couldn’t ever find out if Rory didn’t talk. So what could he do? He tried not to look as frustrated as he felt as he sat back and drained the rest of his drink. “Because I don’t wanna be trapped here, man,” he answered in a mutter. “I left for a goddamn reason. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll find another place to hide.”
For the first time since meeting Dean, Rory wondered if it wouldn’t be a better idea to tip his family off and get the hell out of dodge. He had nothing against the guy, but he didn’t like being manipulated. If Dean was going to fuck up his life further, then maybe he should do the same. He wanted to point out that Dean wasn’t trapped there, that he just couldn’t go back to New York, but he knew the same could be said back to him. The difference was that he didn’t have family to fall back on–family was a big part of the problem. But maybe he could use his fucked up family to his advantage. “Ricky’s boy ‘s not his,” he finally said through scowl. His brother would kill someone over that information; he just wasn’t sure who. “Emma thought she was so careful, but… I know she was seeing Rowan Bianchi on the side when I left.” He stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly across the floor. “That’s worth something. Hopefully enough to keep your mouth shut.”
He tensed when Rory stood up -- he’d never gotten the impression Rory was a brawler, but you never knew, especially with guys who’d grown up in gang life. He just looked like he wanted to leave though, and he was hopefully too smart to do something stupid and get arrested by Dean’s brother. Dean’s eyes gleamed a bit at the scandalous information, he knew those names, at least the ones belonging to the men, and he had to assume ‘Emma’ was Ricky’s wife. That was definitely juicy ... he didn’t know if it was a hundred thousand bucks worth of juice though. “Yeah you better hope, ‘cause if it ain’t then you’re my last bargaining chip, DeAngelo,” Dean said, a note of warning in his voice. “And that shit better be true, too.” He stayed seated, his gaze hard on Rory. Part of Dean did feel some sympathy for him, running from whatever bad situation he was in, but how many other people did his fucking family send running the same way? Maybe this was karma doing its thing.
“You’re a dick. Did you know that, Barrett?” Rory said, shaking his head in disgust. “You make that call and it’s blood on your hands. Keep that in mind when you’re gambling with people’s lives.” It might be his blood, it might be Emma’s, or it might be Rowan’s. Hell, there was even the chance his brother would take out Dean for being the one to reveal such a secret. Or he could decide to torture him to find out where he got his information. If Dean was smart, he’d use the information to blackmail Rowan and Emma and hope they could figure out a way to clear his debt. But Rory wasn’t sure Dean was that smart. The fact that he was thinking of engaging them at all seemed like a poor move. “I don’t like being a bargaining chip. You might want to remember that before you make me one,” he said before turning towards the door. He didn’t like putting his back to Dean, but he didn’t think he was ballsy enough to shoot him in the back with a room full of witnesses. His brother might be the sheriff, but that only went so far.
It was pretty rich to be lectured on morality by the son of a goddamn ganglord, when Rory had benefited from the DeAngelos gambling with and manipulating people’s lives for decades, and worse. Sure, Dean didn’t actually know if Rory participated in his family’s activities, how culpable he was in any of this, but he couldn’t really afford to have sympathy for the guy. The DeAngelos wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes, but surely the worst Rory could get was a beating, right? Maybe cut out of the will? He was living like a pauper anyway, so who gave a shit? Not Dean. And he definitely didn’t feel guilty about any of it, nope. Nevermind that his stomach was in knots. He just rolled his eyes and let Rory walk away, fighting the urge to twist around and watch him leave. Dean would let him have the last word if it made him feel better. Once he’d given the other man a minute or two to exit the Porch, Dean stood up to get another drink, feeling like he needed about fifteen more before he did anything at all.