Disorder Ch. 10

Tripping

"Didn't you learn last time that this was a bad idea?"

Frowning, Donnie sat back on John's sofa, although it was less familiar territory to him. Strangely for the slick drug lord, he'd chosen to live outside the city where there was more space, which made actually getting anything done a nightmare and a half at the best of times. It was lavish and over the top, the home of someone with plenty of money to hand, but Donnie had just about managed to rein him in from getting the equivalent of a billionaire's mansion or the like, begging the cause that it would draw too much attention. Yet John had never seen much sense in having money around if he wasn't going to, well, you know...spend it. It was a theme shared by many who rose to power and fell from power, although it was not yet determined whether he would stay at the top or not. That wasn't worth thinking about.

The modern building was gated and walled, its contemporary lines integrated with the poshest, newest security system that Donnie could dream up. He should know about stopping people from getting into a place when he was so very often the one breaking in, whether digitally or physically now, or so it seemed with the digital and real worlds overlapping where they did. Technology was everywhere and John made use of it in his place too, the windows opening out onto beautiful vistas across the garden -- all the way down to that wall, which was, truly, the only eyesore. It was understandable, of course, just why it needed to be there but that was the problem with illegal activity: one had to make efforts to protect themselves.

Inside, it was only minimalist, the bachelor pad of bad boy's dreams, as John seemed to spend most of his time crashing on the outskirts of the city with Donnie, or occasionally in Charles' flat when he wasn't with Soren or going off the rails with someone else. Something was up with that kid but it wasn't for them to interfere with, not unless there was something serious at hand there. The furniture may have looked utilitarian yet lavish but it was comfortable, more comfortable than Donnie could have ever had the know-how to pick out for himself, but John was more the kind that had a personal shopper do the hard work for him. As long as he got what he wanted in the end, it wasn't too important whether he did the legwork himself or not. Actually, on second thought, it was better if he didn't do any legwork at all.

And the sofa... Donnie smiled at himself, despite knowing just what his brother had in store, mixing a rum and coke -- or something like that -- at the fancy minibar that was installed right there in the living room, the place big enough that even a full bar did not make it feel cluttered in the slightest. Well, they'd done many a thing on that sofa too and he could attest to its comfort maybe more than anyone else -- even John. And John was the one who had the most say, of course, in the workings and placing of his own home. It was the ideal spot for someone who wanted to do nothing at all that was productive with their time, which suited John just fine, fine just fine. After all, if you were John, you didn't much care about getting anything done anyway and that was just how things were when it came to living your best life.

Of course, things had changed since he'd roped in Donnie, winding him right up tight around his little finger as he always did, to take down Jaunt, none of them sure whether the tech giant slash super drug overlord of the city and beyond was dead, undercover, kidnapped -- or what. There was no way to find out and not even Donnie's little network of bugs and birdies could tell that tale, although he kept his ear to the ground as he always did. John said there was nothing to worry about (of course, that was just what John would say) but just the name of the man himself stirred unease up in the pit of Donnie's stomach, worry twisting about what could come if he did not keep an eye on Jaunt at all times.

A little coping mechanism, if you will. If he monitored everything, they would be fine. If he kept updating his systems, they would be safe. If he expanded his networks, everything would be okay. If he performed multiple checks every single day, things would continue on as they were.

Swallowing hard, Donnie closed his eyes, his brother pressing a drink into his hands. He could feel John's frown even with his eyelids lowered, shielding his view of the room and the man that both lifted him up and thrust him down.

"What's gotten into you?"

He didn't know of his internal struggle, the strangling dilemma that plagued him day in and day out. But he didn't need to either.

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

If he kept tabs on everything, John was safe.

John, however, wasn't all that concerned about staying safe. Conversely, with his lust for fast cars and frequently overdosing (really, there was no other way to speak of the sheer volume of drugs that he consumed), John was living larger and louder than ever while Donnie retreated into his own sense of safety. It seemed to be the only way to carry on, to continue, to get through the day to day that sometimes seemed to be spiralling out of control.

Had they really taken over the city? Was he really second in command? Ah... No, no... He didn't have to think like that. He was only there to run everything that worked behind the scenes, delegate and manage, working harder in the world outside of technology too than he'd ever done in his life. Even John had, somehow, managed to come into his own, demonstrating shocking charm and charisma to woo over those who really shouldn't have been so quick to come over to his side and way of thinking.

"No... Look." Back to the topic at hand then, something a little less on the dark side, so to speak. "This isn't a good idea to keep testing crack like this, you know that. That's why we have people to do that. John, we don't have to do this shit when there's people to do it for us. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah..." John waved a hand dismissively, black hair sweeping back over his shoulder, maybe a little longer still than he usually kept it. "But isn't it so much more entertaining, Donnie, to try it out ourselves? Aren't you bored just sitting around tap-tap-tapping away at your computer?"

John threw himself down on the sofa, crossed one leg over the other and sat up ramrod straight, fingers poised and dancing as if he was set before an invisible computer and desk. Of course, Donnie's set-up worked so that it was transportable and multi-functional (it most certainly did not only have a single screen) and was nothing at all like that but the comparison still made his lips turn down in a frown. As much as their relationship and work had brought them closer and closer together, there really was no other way to say that John could be a right dick at times.

"Sure, real funny..."

Turning away, Donnie pressed his lips tightly together. He didn't need words to ensure that John felt his displeasure, although whether or not his brother would act on it was another question. True to form, however, John's fingers curled around his chin with surprising gentleness, not truly needing all that much force or persuasion to turn Donnie back to him.

Oh, those eyes... He would do anything for those eyes, as much as he had, before, tried to tear himself away from them, John's electric allure that had drawn him in and in and in until he was lost to anything else. Maybe he'd done the same to John, considering that there was no one else that John had eyes for. At least in that, there was something that Donnie could trust.

"I was only joking..."

From someone else, it would have been a disparaging comment, intended to throw him off and turn the blame from the perpetrator to the victim of an ill-timed remark, but the sincerity was in the "sorry" that John breathed in the moment his lips touched his brothers.

A relationship that was wrong still had so very many elements of right in it too and Donnie swallowed the lump in his throat, kissing him back even as John drew him up against him, hands finding the small of his back. It was tender, more so than he usually was with him, and a small part of Donnie wondered just what John's game was that evening, the sun slowly turning to shades of slanting sunset, while the much larger part of his mind screamed that none of that fucking mattered. None of that mattered one single bit.

It wasn't romance, no... No, nothing like that. Not that he would admit to it, anyway, but it was all he could do to simply be in the moment, crackling tension snapping and jostling for attention between them. And maybe, just maybe, if things ramped up enough, all thought of testing yet more of the drugs in their arsenal, their newest stocks, would be wiped entirely from John's mind...

Of course, Donnie was not so lucky.

"Well, that's nice and all," John said, breaking the kiss, to Donnie's amusement, a little breathless. "But there's work to be done here, Donnie! No rest for the wicked. Isn't that what they say? We're busy men!"

Donnie winced.

"I don't think that line means quite what you think it does, John..."

But John wasn't listening and, so, Donnie merely sighed and sat back on the sofa, letting himself enjoy the little pleasure of watching John as he prepped a crack pipe: not their usual fare in way of taking, to be fair, but drugs were drugs in their line. They'd expanded into the harder kinds, even mixing LSD strips with further potent intoxicants to induce a feverish high that mere hallucinations could not encapsulate. A drug-hungry crowd, after all, wanted more and more bang for their buck, always chasing that next high, the next hit, the grand revelation that they'd found that thing that they were looking for, whether they were looking to forget, to live or simply experience something that the harsh hand of reality simply could not deliver. And it was their job now, supposedly, to feed them everything they'd ever wanted -- all for the right price, of course.

The crack pipe was new. Donnie rolled his eyes, although that did somewhat slightly hamper his view of John, black jeans showing off what he was packing, at the very least. He had to take his own kind of hits and thrills, feeding his addiction, where he could get them. Sometimes he wondered just how long that was destined to last.

One last try...

"Seriously, John, this isn't a good idea, not when we haven't gotten others to test this shit first. Don't you remember the bullshit that happened before when you got into that batch from down south, whatever the fuck it was called? You were a mess when I found you that time, I don't know how I didn't wake up from it, it's like you just...appeared in the living room or something."

That gave John pause and Donnie pressed his point, although the implements of what would fuel the potent mix of cocaine into their systems were nearly all ready to go. Like with everything else in life, there simply wasn't time to cut in and take away what had already been begun. That was something that Donnie should have understood for himself too long ago.

"That was...different...Donnie..."

Ah, as evasive as ever, it seemed.

"And just how was it different?" Donnie scowled, lips turning down as if he had suddenly reverted to a sulky teenager and yet he knew all the while that there was little hope that John would turn back from what he had begun. "You didn't know anything about that day, anyone could have found you on the street. You didn't even know how fucking long you'd been high on it for!"

"Like that matters. I would have been fine."

He said it with such an air of finality that the door slammed closed on his heels, tumbleweed blowing in the absence of any further discussion at all on that matter. Even Donnie had to hold back his sigh; it would do no good, not really. He'd just annoy John and then Donnie would be pissed off too and it would all be a right mess for nothing. Maybe he'd just go behind John's back and have new products tested further down the line of expendable souls going forward. It was hardly as if John would find out, if he kept his head on straight about it. John was not quite as invincible as he thought he was.

Yet the memory of that incident lingered in his mind, the scene of finding John in his living room playing out before his eyes, although the majority of the discovery, to be fair, was static. John had been half-on and half-off the sofa with his torso dangling over the side, legs kicked up over the cushions. Strangely, his back was poised at a strange angle and he'd groaned and slumped down against the floor as Donnie had approached, shaking his head even as his steps quickened in more than simple brotherly concern. John had not been with it at all, slurring his speech and rolling his head as if the merest simplest of control had evaded his grasp. And yet his eyes were open all the while, wide and staring and shining as he stared off into the distance over Donnie's shoulder, looking at something that only he could see, coming down from his high.

Donnie shuddered. That wasn't the most pleasant experience, he had to admit. John had been in a smart suit there, something that wasn't at all his usual attire, even if he did like looking and playing the part, although there had been one stand-out to the scene that had never again reappeared since in his extensively elaborate and ever-changing wardrobe. It must not have been that important.

"And just what the fuck was that cane about," Donnie muttered, folding his arms and rolling his head back against the back of the sofa, exhaling a breath through pursed lips. "You with a fucking cane... Alright, well, that was kind of funny but even knocking you over the head with the damn thing wouldn't bang any sense into you."

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to bang you."

"Promises, promises."

And, just like that, the banter was back, tension melting from John's face that Donnie had not even taken note of until it disappeared. It was not even something that he could make a mental note of, filing away for later perusal, as John pressed the neck of the pipe to his lips, inciting him to take a long, drawn-out drag, as if that would speed up the process any. He coughed and made a face, but it was hardly the first thing he'd had forced into his mouth (not even only in John's presence either), the rancid aroma of burned rubber mixed with something darker, more oaken, filling his nose, clinging sadistically to the back of his mouth.

"Fuck..." Donnie shoved him away, lips twisting, yet he could not get the taste of the smell to vanish so swiftly. "What is this shit? Didn't you get the good stuff?"

"Not the most palatable of blends but I'm told there's a certain kick to this one. Besides, it's needed to go with something else so force it down, would you?"

Donnie rolled his eyes. Better than injecting himself, he was sure, although snorting lines of powder seemed more apt and palatable than letting the foul rock burn, a different class of cocaine altogether. It should not have fascinated him so how much variety there was in each drug and, if he had not been devoted to the future of technology and intricate hacking programs, he would have seen just what he could cook up for himself as a chemist. Donnie, however, was more of a person that devoted himself to one cause and one cause alone, specialising avidly to the exclusion of all else. Maybe that was just why he'd stuck with John for so long but it had always been his decision to do so and that was okay too.

Still, the familiar taste and smell worked its toxic magic and John took a hit too, skilfully manipulating the pipe, rock burning away merrily. It could have been cheery, perhaps, if it had been at a different time of year, but it was not quite so in the height of summer, the two of them only rendered comfortable within his home due to the quiet air conditioning system running throughout the entire building. A man could have lived there for months on end in just the same climate as he woke up in and be perfectly happy with it, not alternating between sweating and freezing as the months ticked by out on the streets where, conversely, they still had their goods peddled. That wasn't something that Donnie was interested in anymore, choosing to spend the majority of his time inside or, at the very least, moving between locations in his car. And even then he was considered converting to an electric one, even if it would need a few more technological modifications to suit his needs for longevity and, of course, security. That was just something he was toying with though and another nod to his self-imposed solitude, choosing what he hoped was a quiet life over the madness that his brother immersed himself in. His way of life wasn't all that bad but John had never seen it that way.

"Erff..." John matched his expression, lips twisted. "Alright, not the best, I'll give you that, but wait for it."

What else was he supposed to do? Passing the pipe between them, fingers brushing with that ever-present electric tingle, the brothers waited on the high, only one of them admiring the sunset playing out across the garden. One of their people who didn't want to work on the drug side took care of it, choosing safer if still well-paying work. There were few, after all, that would take out a mere gardener unless the stakes were particularly high and such a gardener could neither truly be held accountable in the eyes of the law for merely doing their job. It was a clever ploy for those who wanted to milk the criminal side of life while still getting a fair bit of money set aside in their name.

Slowly, slowly... There was no rush as the drug infiltrated their systems, tongues-wagging and laughter bubbling up as if they were just holding it back all the while. Where was the sense in letting things be so tense when they could be enjoying each other's company? No, no... No, there was no sense in that, none at all, and Donnie rabbited on, standing shakily to fling his arms about, telling a story that would have had more influence and meaning to one of his hacker friends than John.

And yet John was still there listening to him, nodding frequently with a small smile on his lips, head tilted a little to one side. He always listened to him, his Donnie, like no one else would. Not that Donnie was usually all that much of a chatterbox, holding his words back and in store until he felt that he had due need of them, the words needing to be out and spilt without cause or reason under the influence. It was too much, a continuous stream of consciousness, and yet there was nothing in the whole wide world that would have stopped John from smiling and encouraging him in, needing only a little gesture of his hand to reassure his sweet lover that he was listening and, in fact too, to every word he had to say.

How could he have doubted John? Really? Laughing, Donnie found himself back on the sofa all of a sudden, flopping down beside his brother with a bounce and a grunt from the impact, John's arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close. It felt right there, like slipping into a familiar jacket after some time away, and he leaned instinctively into him, although they were, really, just about the same size. There was still something about John that made him feel smaller in a sense, although that was, most likely, partly due to the fact that it had always been very clear between them just who was top and who was bottom in their relationship. But that was okay, it was the status quo and the way things were all for the best. Donnie had experimented with others, other things, other ways of having a relationship, and it was the one he held with his older brother that felt the most natural at the end of the day, making what should have been a convoluted, twisted sort of decision all too simple and easy. And wasn't that just what 'it' was meant to be?