fourknights | mafia au aka shorthand for terrible

mafia au aka shorthand for terrible

Names meant something to Percival. Maybe it was the way he was brought up being from the most noble Wales family and it was something you carried with pride, regardless where you may end up because nobody can take that away from you. At least, that's what Aglovale impressed upon him while they were growing up. Which is why Percival is particularly rankled when a low level informant asked him as to whether the Black Dragons were engaging in low level drug trade on the streets. How dare they.

The only reason he didn't go out and solve this matter on his own, by himself is because Lancelot was in the room with him when he was told of the unfortunate news and Lancelot suggested instead of being rash, they go to Siegfried with this information and then let him decide how to do with it rather than let that temper of his reign over him. Percival relented, though his opinion of Siegfried did oscillate between deeply admiring him and being deeply exasperated with him. The man was happy to spend his time with his pet pug and his potted plant rather than actually do any mafia business, but then Percival saw him after a job and was grateful he didn't say anything. Siegfried's reputation was not unearned in the slightest.

But reputation aside, the man was not invulnerable despite his outward appearance. All of them in that sortie that night knew they were going to run into trouble but not an entire gang's worth of trouble. They were up against some very bad odds, which they did overcome but at the same time not without any consequences. Siegfried stood there, suit bloodied but with a determined look in his eye that said "never come back here if you know what's good for you." Percival was impressed.

That feeling of awe did fade away though the moment that the dust settled as Siegfried collapsed onto the ground with nary any warning to either of them. Why was he like this!! Percival was not impressed as he carried Siegfried's body back to get bandaged up, which somehow led to this mess of a situation where Siegfried lay injured on the bed and Percival pacing nervously outside his door, even though if he was question he would deny being nervous or worried. Dammit Siegfried, if you had just taken a stepped back it wouldn't have been this bad. It would be bad form if he didn't at least attempt to tend to his immediate superior.

The man was truly a fool. And somehow Percival was okay with that. Somewhere, deep inside his chest.

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The door to Siegfried's room opened without announcement, although the person seemed far more intent on leaving than expecting to run into someone pacing a hole into the flooring. Unsurprisingly, the doctor is quick to regain her posture and appearance, erune ears twitching in alertness before she clears her throat, coming to look at her notes and address Percival on the conditioning results. She seems to be under the impression he is the one to report such things to.

"He will be fine, the infection has been successfully treated and the major wounds cleaned and stitched. If he presents with a fever again in the coming 48 hours, give him this," as she is speaking she shoves a bottle onto Percival before continuing, "If it persists more than six hours after that, call. However, rest and avoiding strain to the stitches will aid for the swiftest recovery, as most cases are. If he is in pain, give him this," another bottle is shoved on to Percival's person, before the doctor is reaching in her coat for one more pill vial, glancing at her notes before looking at an added pinky sticky note attached to the bottom, "... And this is... for your other friend."

The final statement is followed by one more pill bottle, before she shrugs apologetically. "He's unconscious for the moment, but should come to quite soon. It was unorthodox, but his anxiety was concerning so I issued him a tranquilizer. Siegfried is awake, but resting. It's you would like to see him be my guest, but please be kind to my patient's needs for stress-free recovery atmosphere."

Meaning, don't yell at him, Percival.

With a final scribbled prescription, she tears it off and hands to Percival also, leaving him ultimately with three bottles and a piece of paper. " My number is there if I am needed, otherwise I take my leave for the night, Lord Wales. " She slips by him, humming in a singsong voice back to him as she make way to the exit, "Buh byeee~~"

Well, at least the doctor seems in good enough spirits, which usually means no one is close to their deathbed.

When Percival enters the room, he will indeed find Siegfried in bed resting peacefully (which is a lot better than the discomfort he had been clearly in before being treated) and Lancelot slumped against the bedside, asleep with his arms and head on the bed where he had been b waiting. Which... is also a much calmer status for him than his earlier one, at least, although the doctor's vagueness hints she may have just too care of him without his consent. Which, she is known to do when it suits but hey, she's a professional as much as these three and knows what she's playing with.

Ah, well. It's peaceful, at least, for Percival to enter into, although how long it remains that way is anyone's guess. With any luck it will mostly stay that way.

Siegfried opened his eyes upon hearing the door to his room open and he flicked a glance to his intruder, being wary enough to not wish the doctor to return to fuss over him. She was talented, but any doctor that worked for the mafia was... a rather peculiar breed and the Erune was no exception (as evidenced by Lancelot's sleeping repose on the edge of the bed, his hand lying possessively on his thigh).

He grunted, trying to ease himself up into less of a recline and more of a sitting position. "I have you to thank for getting me to safety, I suppose." Because Lancelot was no doubt useless. His gaze then flicked up and down Percival's body. "You're not injured?" Because if it was only him, that was for the best. He was old(er) and mostly retired; the young deserved to be unfettered with aching wounds and the baggage that goes with it. He rather hoped he succeeded now that that little mess was mopped up and taken care of.

He snorted and then pointed to an empty chair. "And sit before you become a real pain in my neck." He's trying okay. He's trying really hard to not make it look like he was about ten minutes from bleeding out from that gun wound if the doctor hadn't gotten to him first even though every bandage wrapped around was proof enough of how close he'd come.

Percival stood in the doorway with the pill bottles and note in his hand with a raised eyebrow. Well, she was reliable and didn't ask too many questions - which was all they needed really. They could live with any other eccentricities as long as she did her job, which she did.

Relief fell across him as he stepped into the room, relieved that Siegfried was doing well and Lancelot wasn't in a fit of hysterics. Like the other man so rightly guessed, Lancelot was useless the entire time as Siegfried lay in a pool of his own blood. It was Percival who hauled Siegfried's body out of there, making sure that he could hear the other man breathing. Because he wasn't losing Siegfried here. Not until Percival had the chance to surpass him!

"Would you prefer if I said it was a team effort?" he says to say it was anything but as he puts the medicines down on the bedside table next to Siegfried before walking over to the indicated chair, sitting down and finally letting himself relax. Just a tiny bit, because it seemed like everything was going to be okay even if he was going to be playing caretaker to his boss for the next few days.

"This is the first time in the past few hours that he hasn't been either crying or in hysterics." Percival spent a lot of time trying to reassure him that no, Siegfried wasn't dead. Dead people don't need doctors. But that didn't stop Lancelot charging into the room with the doctor still in there, desperate to know he was okay. "Which is unfortunate, because he seems to have less faith in your survival than me."

Siegfried soaked in Percival's report and the trouble he'd caused him and he felt a sharp ache in his gut that had nothing to do with wounds or life threatening situations. He just felt old in that moment as he stared at Percival trying to act calm as he sank into the upholstered chair and he knew Percival was no less worked up then Lancelot had been (although he appreciated that Percival showed that concern in a different way than Lancelot had).

He laid a hand on Lancelot's head, sinking his fingers into the soft hair as he gently stroked the other man's scalp. "He had you to make sure of my survival; I'm certain he would have kept it together if he had been alone." Which is Siegfried's way of saying he only let loose because he didn't have to be the strong one but...

His gaze rose to Percival's and a smile crossed his lips as he ignored the pain in his gut and his actual wounds and instead spoke dryly as he used his free hand to pat the bed side that was clear of Lancelot. "You don't have to keep it in if you'd like to weep and cry as well." His eyes almost twinkled (although that keep be the drugs talking as they began to work through his system). "I swear I won't tell a soul if you do." And it was the least he could do after all the trouble he'd put his subordinates through tonight was listen to them.

"I have no inclination to do so." replies Percival curtly as he crosses his legs and leans over to look at Lancelot's sleeping form. Sometimes his rival reminded him of a spoiled cat and it's times like this that don't help because of the way that he's sleeping, happily drugged into dozing off and snoring softly that he could completely be a cat. Strangely adorable, he thinks. He'd never seen Lancelot as relaxed prior, the other man often overworking to the point of exhaustion.

He takes a moment to not get distracted by Lancelot to stand up and walks over to where Siegfried indicated, looking at the spot he patted with a fixed gaze.

"I'm not the mongrel I don't need headpats for a job well done." Not saying that he wouldn't appreciate praise, but Percival has some amount of dignity unlike his colleagues.

If Lancelot knew the kind of trash opinion about him being useless shared between these two ...!! He got the doctor, okay, he was very good at getting the doctor there really fast (even if she may have fueled his anxiety by pretending not to notice his desperation and calmly ask things like was the patient his friend or himself what with how this up he was.) Anyway, she sure came prepared for him as much as she did Siegfried, and Lancelot really is just flat out knocked out cold.

Or he was knocked out cold, anyway.

At least until Percival approaches the bed. Before his partner can get close enough to even consider using the spot, Lancelot is suddenly up and turning around to barricade the bed footing area protectively while still remaining on the floor. Lancelot's barely awake: all he b knows is someone is coming towards the bed, and no way is anyone getting near(er than he is already to) his (injured) boss.

As surprisingly quick as he is to move and get between Percival and the indicated spot on the bed, Lancelot's doesn't seem to immediately recognize Percival, looking a bit groggier than one would expect with his sudden actions...

(Then again, he's always had impressive reflexes)

When he does recognize the other, however, which doesn't take too long (and becomes apparent with those blue eyes lighting up like a blue moon) he blinks and merely pushes himself up to sit his ass down on the bed first, innocently... because no way is Percival getting to sit next to Siegfried before Lancelot does. :(

"Na, Percival," he yawns, making a strangely cute noise in the process you deserve it even if you don't need it, so sit...." Lancelot pats the bed right next to him, even scooting over a little (just to show how serious he is by letting Percival get a little closer to Siegfried).

Beyond that, however, Lancelot has no idea what's happened and really only heard the last thing Percival said, which was enough to be able to respond properly. He actually still feels quite sleepy, which will be obvious should Percival indulge him and sit next to him... because Lancelot will flop against his shoulder tiredly with a soft sigh. He's tired, but he's also relieved Percival saved Siegfried and Siegfried is going to be able to recover.

(Okay so maybe he just wanted to have a shoulder to make into a pillow and that's why he was pushing the other to sit as Siegfried had offered.)

Siegfried watched with amusement as Lancelot roused himself from a dead stupor to protect his bed (his person) and his hand was automatically rising to trace the curve of Lancelot's back, filling the smooth rub of expensive cloth against his fingertips.

"As Lancelot stated: you deserve credit for your part in tonight's activities. I am in your debt."

Well, he was alive wasn't he??? But... He raised an eyebrow at Lancelot's immediate flop onto Percival and then a wry smile tugged against his lips. "Although perhaps my debt is unwanted. You've grown close." And there was a little bit of wistfulness in his voice as he thought of the two men whom he'd once nurtured into adulthood. He was still his lord's right hand man, but.

He was mostly retired now, and this wound would reinforce that retirement for some many months to come. More's the pity.

Sometimes he wonders how much Siegfried knows but chooses not to say. It's a maddening experience where he's certainly not offering any information up more than necessary, but also. Siegfried just knows that offering up to him would prove futile. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, the way that Lancelot and him are close is more than just partners in Siegfried's employ. He blinks away the flashes of nights past, with Lancelot underneath him writhing in ecstasy as they both entwine in each other's arms --

He coughs, trying to arrange his features so that the blush didn't appear on his face at just how on the mark Siegfried was. It was just one comment, Percival tells himself. He doesn't know. (He probably does.)

"When you work with someone for extended periods of time, you either like them or dislike them." says Percival as flatly as he can muster as he brushes an errant strand of Lancelot's hair from his face, the small act conveying plenty of untold affection for the other man propped on his shoulder. "It's fortunate that I like Lancelot enough to stand being around him."

He hopes that he's not blushing or looking too sappily at Lancelot. That would be embarrassing.

"I will assume that this sentimentality is the effect of the drugs, so if you would rather forget this embarrassing conversation in the future I am happy to oblige."

Also he hopes Lancelot isn't going to drool on his suit.

Lancelot happily felt the affectionate touch up against his back, arching into slightly rather subconsciously. It's positive in how it feels, it's just one more complete assurance that Siegfried is safe. To feel the solidness of Percival's shoulder (just like his support ) makes relaxing (resting, really) so much easier.

(Who's to say tonight couldn't have easily been Percival they almost lost, instead? He's really grateful he still has them both. His favorite people.)

It's already Percival's lucky day as Lancelot will not drool on him— he isn't out cold, anyway. By the time the topic of forgetting the conversation has been proposed by Percival, Lancelot is a little more awake. He at least is awake enough that he is staring down at the floor (nothing in particular), a small blush coloring his cheeks even as he moves his hand hand closest to Percival to settle on top of Percival's discretely.

Although Siegfried is not wrong, his... closeness with Percival has been something Lancelot has made sure to avoid even hinting about. Percival is far better at deflecting those sorts of things.

What does that have to do with being indebited to someone? ... Wait, there's no way Siegfried is indirectly suggestively propositioning Percival. That's impossible (except not exactly, Percival did have a rather voracious sexual appetite). But no, why is he thinking these kinds of things all of a sudden. They can't have sex, Siegfried is injured and Percival is too aggressive!?

Finally unable to hold back his sudden insane need for context and clarification, Lancelot speaks up quietly, only looking back to Siegfried once he's sure his blush has mostly cooled away. "Ah... what does not wishing to be rewarded have to do with being close with someone, Siegfried-san?"

It is asked completely innocently and sincerely. He really is curious and wants to know now. Maybe it is something only Percival would understand coming from Siegfried.

Edited 2019-01-21 10:56 (UTC)

He was sentimental because he had always been sentimental, an eye for his underlings that showed promise and a need to challenge them, see the rise up, surpass him because that would make a better team, a better world then the rotten, dark shadows that was so often associated with mafia.

He smiled indulgently at Percival and Lancelot, noting the closeness, noting the sentimentality in the touch of Lancelot’s hand on Pericval’s even if Lancelot was half out of it thanks to the sedative he’d been forced to endure, and—

His smile widened and there was a brief chuckle before he winced, his wounds stretching at the slight movement. “It means your happiness is Percival’s own reward.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Did you think I thought to steal him away from you?”

He may have trained his current vice-captains (if he could even call them vice captains now that he was on the way out), but that didn’t mean he’d trained them. Not unless they had asked; not unless he could trust their discreetness; not unless…

Well, even Siegfried sometimes made mistakes. But he had paid that price and endured.

Oh there was no way that Siegfried didn't know with a statement like that. While it's true that he likes seeing Lancelot happy and not panicking, there were other matters at hand.

He grips Lancelot's hand a bit tighter at the thought and he feels a little shaken in the way that only Siegfried could make him feel shaken. Percival can't control the furious streak of red that heats up his cheeks as he tries to not huff, but he's completely huffing. If it weren't for the fact that he was holding Lancelot's hand then he would have crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oi Siegfried." says Percival in warning as he forces himself to look at his boss. "If you're going to proposition me at least --"

He exhales. Where is he going with this?

"If you're going to proposition me," he continues. "If you knew about me and Lancelot then at least--"

Percival's brain is short circuiting just a tiny bit.

"Or did you want to watch us go at it?"

This has somehow spiraled far out of Lancelot's intentions with asking the question to begin with.

He looks almost like a guilty puppy at Siegfried's questioning response, not because he thought Siegfried was out to steal Percival so much as Lancelot couldn't think of any other connection first... especially considering he had not intended for Siegfried to know... n... ot right now, anyway...

Before he can respond, however, Percival is tightly gripping Lancelot's hand tighter and sputtering all with a lovely shade of red on his face to go along with his hair. Lancelot blinks as Percival talks, but it's only once the other completes his attempt to form a full sentence that he actually balks over its contents.

Oh no.

Surely Percival hasn't just let that question actually come out of his mouth... did he!?

Ah, he did. If only Lancelot wasn't suffering cognitively from that drug surely he could have used his diplomacy skills to clear the air and change the topic. This is obviously embarrassing for Percival and surely awkward for their boss to face directly being asked that kind of thing?

... Clearly this is just going to have to be a conversation between the other two men because Lancelot can't seem to even get a squeak of surprise (or mortification) out nevermind say anything useful.

Hey, Siegfried might be on the verge of retirement, but he’s not that old, Percival. He’s still got more contacts in hidden places then either Percival or Lancelot can hope to dream of (for another year or two). The old guard knew ~~how to gossip~~ a thing or two when it comes to recognizing the signs of fraternization.

But he just stared at them zen like as they flustered and sputtered and died a little with mortification and Siegfried was grateful for the painkillers the doc had slipped him because it allowed him to keep his cool over the idea of the pair of them putting on a show for his amusement. He chuckled though as the gave them a glance over, deciding to let this little misunderstanding continue for a few minutes longer.

“With my wounds, I’m afraid a show could be a little too stimulating for me at the moment.”

He shook his head. “It would be a shame to have such a performance go to waste.”

"Hmph. I knew you were as dirty as the rest of them." It's not like he's particularly surprised by this but he also can't find it in himself to be actually mad at Siegfried. Because as much as he is a meddling old man with his own ideas that ranged from inanely charming to absolutely insane. As much as he would like to think Siegfried would settle down to live a happy life with his pug and his radishes, Percival knows that nobody leaves out of the clan clean.

But this might be the right opportunity to show him up. Sorry Lancelot, but Percy has a thing for politicking and you're unfortunately being drawn into this whether you like it or not. The hand that was gripping Lancelot's is now moving up to caress his friend's cheek and a smirk now graces Percival's face.

"But if you're going to off yourself, it might as well be with something more enjoyable than a shoot out."

His free hand goes to wrap around Lancelot's waist possessively but he's still looking at Siegfried with flames in his eyes. What now, boss?

"Percival," Lancelot manages finally out of his mouth in response to such an offhanded comment concerning their boss and how ...'dirty' he was or wasn't.

"You can't speak to Siegfried-san like —" Lancelot's appalled protest is halted in favor of the sudden touch to his cheek, far more curious of the gesture than being acknowledged over how no one talks badly about Siegfried on Lancelot's watch!

Despite feeling self-conscious he doesn't react initially. When he feels the familiar touch around his waist (a gesture that usually excites him because he could never get enough of when Percival was aggressive just like he could never get enough of everything else of Percival), he feels himself mentally panic at the thought of becoming aroused with someone else in the room.

...Especially when that person is Siegfried.

While he would normally respond to being pulled into something weird on Percival's agenda like this with an elbow to just below the ribs (which.... would be a toss up as to whether it would get Percival to abort his plans or just incense them further and it serve as unintentional foreplay), he goes cross-eyed a moment before bringing his vision back to normal.

Bringing a hand up towards Percival's face (since he is not looking at him), Lancelot uses his thumb and middle finger like a clamp to squeeze against both cheeks of Percival's face in attempt to (forcefully, if necessary...) redirect his partner's attention to him; for the man to explain because Lancelot wants some (even silently communicated) answers about what Percival thinks he's doing (or what he hopes to get doing) here all of a sudden?!

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mafia au aka shorthand for terrible

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