Archive of Our Own ^beta

He sat himself alone at the table, the candle flickering in the night. It didn’t matter, it was only him and he knew where everything was. He downed the rest of his drink, cringing as he felt the tears start again. He made a disgruntled noise (as if he had been gruntled to begin with) that usually would have been a testament to his bad days, but hearts and clubs didn’t dare bother him like this. And christ, he really wished they did because he was alone, and loneliness and grief wasn’t the formula for a better day.

They had had their first meeting outside of work here, at this table, Droog showing up dressed to the nines in his usual fashion. Slick remembered the nervous smile on his face as he approached him, the way he jumped up to pull out his chair for him and the way he stumbled over his words (Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it.) The way he brushed his hair out of his forehead and placed a tentative kiss there after the two of them had had their fair share of drinks (Please stop thinking about it.) How he held his hand as he walked him to his car, how the two had exchanged a kiss and planned on meeting again (Stop thinking about it! Stop!). He ran a hand through his hair, leaning his elbows onto the table as his chest was wracked with fitful sobs.

It was getting hard for him to breathe, hard to think without the flashes of memories getting in his way. It wasn’t long until he was screaming out his agony, and Hearts finally protruded from his room to try to comfort him. Hearts pulled his boss, no, his friend, into a tight hug, whispering calming words to him. Slick clung to him, head buried into a broad shoulder. Hearts didn’t mind, letting him cry all he needed. He understood perfectly well what he had been going through, understood perfectly well the shattering emptiness that the man felt and the loss he was suffering. Hell, they all did. Spades started to calm down some, chest still heaving and tears still falling but it was nothing outside of manageable.

“It’ll be okay, boss. Boxy’s gotcha.”

He nodded, sniffling a bit and wiping at his face and spewing about 80 apologies a second. Hearts shook his head, holding him tighter.

“Don’t apologise. It’s alright to feel.”

He knew the unspoken response: what if I don’t want to?

“He would want you to.”

After another while, Slick gave another nod, not yet breaking away. Still, Boxcars didn’t mind. Boxcars held him closer, and with a sniffle Slick decided he would have to agree. At least for the time being. And his breathing slowed to a gentle, even rhythm, heart and eyelids heavy.