On the other side of town

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Some things never change.

Ramon lights up another cigarette. Half a dozen butts litter the street by his feet.

He knew the minute he saw Issac's body. The additional data Mr. Lensherr sent along only confirmed it. This shouldn't be possible. Isaac's killer has been dead for over twenty years.

Ramon stares at the juggling rooster on the Cock and Balls bar sign. He doesn't have to do this. He could send in Mortimer or Dominic instead. They've never met the man.

He doubts they'd survive.

The broken glass outside the window, layers of peeling paint on the badly repaired doorsill, and strong stench of whiskey and cigar smoke are like a set piece from the worst part of his past. They should've stayed in Europe. America is too cold, too hard.

He takes one last drag on the cigarette and lets it fall to the ground. Time to go to work.

Comments

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

Logan gives Ramon a look. "Ya called the kid Kurt and yer givin' me grief about Marion? I just lost my wife and had a baby shoved at me with no instruction manual ta boot." He won't say that it took him four days to even come up with it.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

"I'm Austrian. What's your excuse?"

Ramon grabs the whiskey bottle off the bar and slumps down onto the floor next to Logan. "Damn useless stuff. You're the only person who ever had any idea how much work it takes for me to get drunk."

He takes a drink and passes the bottle.

...

Wife.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

The bottle's tilted up and drunk from for a good five or six seconds before it's handed back. One big question remains unanswered. "So who th' hell did I just run into at th' Wundagore if it wasn't you?"

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

"What?"

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

"Grow a couple extra ears next time ya try ta get fresh, maybe you'll learn somethin'. Already told ya. I ran inta ya at th' Wundagore a couple hours ago." He's recalling the moments as he repeats it. "Tried ta act like ya didn't know me ta start with ... " Logan stares at a fixed point on the opposite wall. "Smelled right. Kiss felt right. Everythin' did." A longer pause this time. "'Cept when she asked me ta walk away."

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

"Gott Verdammt Schweinhund."

Ramon isn't sure what makes him angrier - that someone out there is mimicing his form or that this man, of all people, could be fooled by the imposter.

"Felt right? Are you that desperate, or have you gone that soft?"

He straddles Logan's lap, frames his face between blue hands, and kisses him.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

His first instinct is to push away, not to let himself get sucked into nostalgia once more only for it to disappear for the second time in a day.

He can't bring himself to do it.

There's nothing gentle about it. It's fierce and desperate, hungry and demanding, and it tastes of fire, bourbon and smoke.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Rough hands are met with an angry need. The musky scent. The ever present stubble. The painfully familiar flesh lost for these last two decades. Ramon devours his mouth. Fingers dig into his skin, as though Logan will evaporate if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

Twenty three years.

Lips drag up along his neck followed by a heavy breath in one ear. "I've missed you."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

The feeling is most assuredly mutual, evidenced by his grip digging into Raven's - Ramon's - thighs. Pheromones, coarse and thick, saturate the air between them.

The patrons who've remained in the bar are exchanging marked, if somewhat nervous, glances.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Ramon's hard as a steel girder. His blue hands are still wet with Logan's blood.

The smell, the taste - he's going to wake up any moment to find himself clutching damp sheets and calling out the wrong name.