Chapter Text
Settling in didn’t take much time at all.
Right away, Phoebe inducted them into her operation, bestowing them with the title of supply runners. A coveted position, in her words.
Bullshit.
Everyone in the business knew that runners were the most underappreciated and dangerous jobs to work. Meeting new clients for the chance to forge an allship while keeping up relentless trades with the customers who already had your loyalty. It was a job with a lot of upkeep and little to no payoff in the grander scale of the game.
But, they couldn’t afford to be picky .
Since they were to serve as the “public relations” of Phoebe’s trade, that meant they were due for a few “cosmetic procedures”. Phoebe didn’t want to get any flack down the road for hosting the pair that knocked Denning from his throne and forced them to adopt new aliases.
Tom Hatch and Lester Naven would be no more.
Benjamin Webb and Martin Fisher were born.
“Benjamin” had to have his black hair bleached to remove any trace of color, dying it a dull mousy brown and trimming it short. Gone were his tailored suits and custom leather loafers. Benjamin preferred jeans and trainers, casualwear that showed he could relate to his fellow man and not try to yield superiority over them. Benjamin kindly smacked “Martin” for that little comment.
Martin had the simplest change of all yet the most effective, dying his signature grey hair to a strawberry blond color while gaining a massive upgrade to his wardrobe in the form of button ups and fitted blazers. Benjamin was the only one to grieve their former appearances, extending one special farewell for his former silver fox.
‘It’s only temporary,’ He’d say, forgetting that nothing about their situation was.
Yet Tom had to shove all his hesitations aside, knowing they were in too deep as it was, and most unfortunate of all, Phoebe had held up her side of the bargain.
Leaving him no choice but to honor his.
They worked at night, rushing to Phoebe’s church for their briefing before carrying on with their tasks. For hours on end, Tom and Lester would spend their time kissing up to potential allies, stroking their egos on their need to build up a partnership with the most promising trader in Manchester.
Lester took to their new roles like a fish in water, itching to get ahead after months stranded by the wayside. Tom made no effort to deprive Lester of the lead. He was successful at it and in better condition to do so than Tom, physically and mentally.
Phantom skewers pierced into his belly with every tense meeting, when potential members flaunted their wealth, painfully reminding Tom of their former status. Former allegiances also went without saying. Tom did his best to acclimate.
Easier said than done.
His concentration floundered, making simple mistakes that his past self would have scoffed at committing. He hesitated more than he should have, overthinking hypotheticals beyond what was necessary.
To Lester’s credit, his partner had noticed him drowning, had thrown him a life preserver many times to keep himself afloat.
But was Tom really drowning if he didn’t make the effort to grab it?
Tom didn’t know.
That was a conversation for a later time and place, one where they weren’t constantly being hovered by Phoebe or one of her many lackeys.
And that was home.
Not the cabin and certainly not the brick behemoth Phoebe had thrust upon them.
But where Charlie was.
Because Charlie could understand. You could cut the boy’s veins and find empathy bleeding from them. He knew how to relate, to feel pity for those that did not deserve it, a true angel amongst men.
The major downside to their current employment? The utter lack of time spent with Charlie.
Running worked best at night, made it easier to conceal the miscreants that broke the law and evaded it. Standard practice really. That meant when dawn eventually broke and Tom and Lester wandered back home, they could only spare Charlie a tired wave before crawling into bed and collapsing from utter exhaustion.
Charlie adapted where he could, keeping noise to a minimum to avoid disturbing them from their well earned slumber. Kept the home tidy and clean while they were away. Prepped meals ahead of time so they could pop their food into the microwave. Rinse and repeat.
Resuming the work of an indentured servant. It infuriated Tom, regardless of whether it was of his own volition.
Tom could see it in his face for the few minutes they shared each day, the quiet loneliness before resignation inevitably washed over his face, ready to make due for another day of isolation, praying for the two’s safe return.
If their partnership with Phoebe had any chance of succeeding in the long term, things seriously needed to change, less the fragile nature of their formed family begin to crumble to nothing…
If only Phoebe had a better sense of timing.
On the rare day Tom and Lester were off Phoebe’s schedule for the night, she chose to drop by unannounced, not even having the decency to knock on the door. Whenever Tom brought up his complaints, Phoebe shushed him and dangled her keys under his nose, eager to see him stew and pout.
Insufferable, she was.
Tom grabbed his bottle of aspirin from the shelf, knowing exactly who was to blame for the cause of his sudden migraines.
“So, where’s Lesty, Tommy? I’d thought he’d be here by now? Need to chat to you two about some things,”
She had also taken to the habit of calling him Tommy, a habit that Tom tried and failed to extinguish everytime. Another aggravating downside.
Tom’s eye twitched, swallowing down two pills with a glass of water.
“He won’t be back until later. He’s at his appointment with Dr. Wilby.”
“Damn, why am I always the last one to know about this?” Phoebe groaned, pulling out her mobile and tapping away at her screen.
Tom swallowed two more pills for safe measure.
“Anyways, where is Charlie? I hope you aren’t hiding him away,” She crooned, searching around the kitchen and whistling to catch his attention.
Tom cursed silently, his gaze drifting to catch the small figure tending to the garden in the backyard. Usually he had more time to warn Charlie whenever Phoebe dropped by, locking him away in the safety of his bedroom, the only door in the entire home that Phoebe had yet to obtain a key to.
Phoebe spotted him before Tom could divert her away.
“Charlie! Get over here sweetie!”
Even from their lofty distance and the smudge covered window, Tom could see the unmistakable slouch in Charlie’s shoulders as he inhaled a heavy breath and trudged his way across the lawn.
Phoebe pressed herself against the glass, panting with glee as Charlie stepped inside, evading Phoebe's path. He wasn’t quick enough as Phoebe’s long arms ensnared him and held him tight against her bosom, squealing over him.
“Oh how are you sweetie?”
Charlie gasped and gargled, failing to free himself from her unrelenting grip, his green eyes finding Tom’s sole blue for solace.
Tom spoke up for both of them. “Phoebe enough, please!”
“You’re no fun,” Phoebe pouted, relinquishing Charlie from her grasp, letting him stumble backwards into Tom, catching him before they could both topple to the floor.
Charlie gasped, his face flushed and gulping down air. “Thanks Tom.”
Tom nodded, fixing his clothes as Phoebe groaned and slumped against the kitchen counter.
“Do you know when Lesty’s dropping by then?”
Tom checked his mobile.
“Not for a while, so if this is related to work matters, it'd be best if you drop by later.”
“Ugh, I needed to talk to you and Lester about the Summit run-” She caught her slip of tongue, eyes widening at the sight of Charlie still glued to Tom’s side.
“I mean- Ethay ummitsay unray eedsnay,” Phoebe drawled, pulling out ridiculous pig latin from her arse as if that could cover her tracks.
The bewildered expression on Charlie’s face suggested it wasn’t for nothing though…
Tom gestured for Charlie to leave, moving into Phoebe’s space.
“Can this wait until later? I don’t need Charlie to listen to any of this or your nonsensical rambling,” Tom whispered harshly, knowing he could only excuse Phoebe’s lack of tact for so long.
But the woman merely raised a brow at him, tapping her manicured nails along her elbows.
“Hate to break it to you Tommy, but your boy hasn’t left yet.”
What?
Tom raised a brow and to his disappointment she was correct, Charlie has not vacated the kitchen. Most telling of all, his posture indicated he had something on his mind. Subtlety was never Charlie’s strong suit.
He was fidgeting with the hem of his knitted sweater, his face flushed pink and eyes squarely aimed at his feet.
Tom sighed and squeezed his arm supportively. “Charlie? Is there something you need?”
“Y-yeah.”
Inhaling a shaky breath, Charlie stood a little straighter, mustering up all his courage as he stared intently at the both of them. Whatever he wanted, it had to be serious.
“I want a job.”
Just not that…
Phoebe’s eyes lit up in an instant as she let out an audible squeal, her claws stretching out towards him.
“Oh sweetie-”
“Save it,” Tom interjected, maneuvering Charlie from her grasp in the nick of time only to squeeze him in his own clutches.
“A job? Are you insane Charlie? After all you said? All the shit you’ve seen? You don’t expect me to believe that you could ever do what we do!?”
Tom quickly devolved into a spittle fueled rant, rambling reason after reason as to why Charlie ever left the thought of joining them ever enter the atmosphere of his mind. He should have figured it would have happened sooner than later, them being terrible influences and all. The kid was absolutely lucky that Lester hadn’t been here or Tom might not have been able to save him from his lover’s wrath.
“Tom!” Charlie’s strained voice finally broke through.
“Tom stop! That’s not what I meant!”
“Could have stopped him a little sooner there sweetie,” Phoebe remarked, wincing as she rubbed her ear.
Tom bared his teeth at her, turning back to Charlie and exhaling a shuddery breath.
“Explain yourself.”
Charlie nodded, gesturing for Tom to take a seat at the table. Par for the course, Phoebe took one as well, all too anxious to hear what Charlie had to say. Taking his seat at the head of the table, Charlie steadied himself, muttering a quiet mantra to himself for self assurance.
“I want a job. Not working for you. Not for her, but just a job.”
Tom quickly learned that loneliness was but one of many symptoms Charlie had acquired since their move.
Lack of productivity being another one.
Charlie always had work to do. Back at the Estate, work was mandatory, keeping his mind from analyzing the tragedy of his situation, a needed distraction for his itchy fingers. At the Ridge, he was able to keep himself preoccupied with Lester’s wellbeing and maintenance of the cabin.
But in Manchester, Charlie had felt utterly useless.
Tom and Lester no longer required his services for care. Phoebe had her own specialty team that tended to all their needs. They were professionals, able to provide top notch aid that Charlie could only dream of providing, his work appearing crude in comparison.
And harshly, Charlie did have a point. While Tom was not about to degrade Charlie for his truly essential care, the fact remained that he lacked years of experience and the necessary resources. Tom could see why the kid had a bit of an identity crisis.
Left alone and with no one to provide for, all Charlie could do was menial chores around the home, venturing away when he felt particularly brave enough. He would explore the city on bus, spending several hours navigating through the crowded streets, mustering up his courage to join their ranks, only to chicken out in the end.
Day in and day out, Charlie was nothing but a passerby, watching other people live out their stories, while his continued to remain on hold. Another fact that Tom felt guilty for.
“-I just want to feel normal again. To contribute. I want to do something so that I don’t feel so useless.” Charlie sighed, fidgeting with his hands as he extended an apologetic look to Tom.
As if he needed to.
“Oh Charlie,” Tom embraced him in a tight hug, sending a silent warning to Phoebe not to stray from her seat.
“That’s why I want a job. I saw a few places in the city that are hiring.”
Tom nodded. “And that’s why you wanted to tell me.”
“Yes, but I need papers. Documents, identification, etc. I don’t have any of that,” Charlie’s gaze shyly drifted to Phoebe. “I think that’s where you can help me.”
Phoebe’s face lit up, her squeal dying in her throat at finally being addressed by Charlie no less. It had to all have been some twisted honor in her head.
“Oh I absolutely can help you there Angel.” She pinched Charlie’s cheek in her grip, moving her hand away before Tom could swat it. “I got a few names already prepped, and a few suggestions on what we can do to change your look-”
“No-no!” Charlie shook his head, shifting closer to Tom’s side for protection.
“I would rather keep my name. I don’t want to change anything. I just want to have the proper credentials to work. I know you can’t get me my actual papers, but I want something as close to the real thing as possible.” Charlie sighed forlornly, no doubt wondering the fate of his actual identification, if such papers still existed.
Otherwise, he had absolutely nothing of claim to his real identity.
Perhaps, Phoebe could give him something there after all…
“You got yourself a deal sweetie.”
Phoebe extended her hand, a mad twinkle in her eye that promised nothing but trouble. The kind of deal that one would find themselves entangled with a smooth talking devil. One that promised everything you wanted and more, concealing the crossed fingers they had hiding behind their back along with their pronged tail.
Charlie shook it, flashing a pained smile In Phoebe’s direction, one that Tom mirrored as well, forever lamenting the fact that they were indebted to the woman.
He could only hope she would continue living up to her promises, and continue achieving them now that Charlie was involved. Tom would go through a million cosmetic surgeries, a million and one identities, crawl through a million mines if it meant Charlie was spared in the end. To keep him separated from a world that threatened to chew him up and spit him out.
Because if she broke that boy’s heart-
Hers would no longer continue to beat…
Lester couldn’t believe it.
Not at all.
He had to have heard the doc wrong. Had to have had lint stuck in his ears that he forgot to pick out that morning. Maybe there was leftover water sitting in his eardrums from his morning shower.
But the doc had assured him, his words were one hundred percent correct.
Lester could finally walk.
Without crutches.
Without his chair.
A real fucking miracle.
Lester couldn’t contain his excitement. He screamed and hollered whoops of joy as he ran, fucking ran, from the doc’s office to his car. Tears welled up in his eyes at the sensation of it, able to feel his feet pound against the ground without an ounce of pain reverberating in his kneecaps, without the typical twinges and winces of pain that plagued him wherever he went.
There was only one thing on his mind.
One thing as Lester fumbled his way into starting the SUV, nearly rear ending the parking sign as he pulled into a turn and out of the lot, barreling down the road in the direction towards home.
He didn’t care that he drew attention to himself on the road, narrowly avoiding crashing into the unwelcome pedestrians on the road, ignoring their angry shouts and middle fingers. And he certainly didn’t care about driving over a few curb’s, damaging the undercarriage of the SUV.
All that mattered was getting home to his boys and springing the good news onto them.
And perhaps getting a little fun in return...
“You guys! Guess what, guess what?!” Lester screamed into the air, wasting no time declaring as he stormed into the house, nearly knocking the front door off its hinges during all his excitement.
The pair he was searching for were on the couch, jumping in their seats from his unplanned entrance. Lester snickered and raised his arms, waiting for the pair to shower him in praises and congratulations. Instead, they stared at him with wide eyes, mouths stuffed with popcorn that was sitting on the coffee table.
Clearly they weren’t as excited as he thought. That meant he needed to make his statement more obvious. And get a little more loud…
“Guess what you two?! Go on and guess!!” Lester shouted once more, chuckling as the two covered their ears and winced in their seats.
“For god’s sake Lester what the hell are you shouting for?!”
“Oh come on Tom don’t make me ruin it for you! Guess!” Lester grinned and approached them, doing a dramatic spin and flaring out the collar of his jacket for extra emphasis.
Tom, forever unimpressed, simply raised a brow.
Charlie caught on immediately, his eyes widening as his mouth stretched into a wide smile.
“Oh Lester you’re-”
Lester immediately clamped his hand over Charlie’s mouth, wagging his finger at him.
“Appreciate your enthusiasm kid, but I was hoping Tom could guess for us.”
Tom rolled his eyes at that, fisting his hand into Lester’s collar and pulling him in for a dizzying kiss. Lester melted into his hold, moaning softly into his partner’s mouth as their tongues swiped against each other, tasting popcorn.
Tom broke the kiss, flashing Lester a small affectionate smile. “Congratulations Lester.”
“About time you noticed. Now, I have a few ideas as to how we can celebrate this milestone of mine,” Lester mused, jumping over the couch to sandwich himself between the pair, ignoring their grunts of protest.
“Lester,” Tom grumbled, irritation laced in his voice.
Lester snickered, throwing his arms around the both of them. “I want you to make me a special cake, Tom, twice as big as the one you made for Charlie. Charlie I want you to make me a special plaque, something I can hang my crutches on or something. I also want-”
“A goddamn parade while you’re at it?” Tom withdrew himself from Lester’s arm.
“What? I deserve it don’t I?”
Charlie was kinder, gently removing Lester’s arm from his neck and giving his hand a squeeze. “I think he just wants you to be reasonable Lester. But we are proud of you.”
“Good, god knows how long I waited for this fucking day.”
Tom nodded, taking Lester’s other hand in his own and interlacing their fingers. “Like Charlie mentioned, do you have any reasonable ideas for how we can celebrate?”
“I-”
“And not a fucking threesome?” Tom warned, the growl in his voice veering on threatening.
Charlie coughed, awkwardly removing his hand from Lester’s grip.
Lester frowned and crossed his arms, scratching out the half of the sexy scenarios he envisioned in his head, searching for something more tame and vanilla. Not his fault that Tom and Charlie hated to live on the wild side of life.
Unless…
Lester smirked, relishing in the pair’s confused looks as the perfect solution came to mind, one that would have all participants equally enthused.
Or so he hoped.
“I think I know what we can do…”