Of Mercenaries & Love Affairs

Livius scoffed and the second Christophe was out of sight, he followed. No way he had saved this man and was going to let him get hurt again now if something went wrong. So he followed along, hopping the fence just as easily as Christophe had, watching the man from a distance.

Christophe was greeted by two massive men, who proceeded to lead him into the building. Soon he found himself in a large room in the back of the structure. "I 'ave zhee papeers." The man in front of him was cut, very muscular and built. He wore a suit, and when he stood in front of Christophe he completely towered him. This man had been the one to hire him.
"'Ere." He unlatched a small pouch he had strapped around his clip. He pulled out of it a dirty manilla folder. Taking it, the unknown man flipped through the papers, assuring himself nothing was damaged.
"Well." He spoke, smiling as though satisfied. "Very good work." He turned, moving back to his desk as though dismissing Christophe. Yet the French man had not moved, his teeth being grit harder and harder for every moment he was left to stand there. "Wheere eez my pay?" There was no way in hell he was going to leave without it, not after f*cking taking a bullet to his shoulder.
"Consider my letting you keep your life be payment enough." The man sat the folder down on his desk, gesturing to the door. "Im finished with you."
"Likee 'ell 'ou aree!" Christophe slammed his hands down onto the desk, snatching the folder back up. "I'll juzt keep zhiz theen!"
The man stood, already positioning himself to strike. But Christophe was quicker, his shovel stopping the man in his tracks.
"Hey!" The other two, who seemed to be this mans body guards, burst into the room at hearing the commotion. Try as he might, there was no getting away from them. Christophe was immediately apprehended, thrown against the wall as the man continued to assault him.

Livius had managed to get inside when they all followed Christophe. But he hadn't wanted to follow them inside the room and get himself into this unless he had to. So he hovered outside the room and listened. He cursed mentally as he heard what was happening. He could only imagine what kind of people these were and what they would do to this man he'd only just met. Or what they would do to him if his plan didn't work.
He knew he should leave Christophe to die, but he couldn't make himself do it. His plan would be risky but he knew he could do it. He just hoped they spoke Italian because he couldn't act nearly as well in English. It was Italy after all. So he took a deep breath and ran into the room.
"Smettere! Per favore!" He shouted as he burst in the doorway, collapsing to his knees when he reached the man in charge, looking tearfully towards Christophe, then back up at the man in front of him.

Translation: Stop! Please!

"¿Quién diablos es usted?!" The man barked, wiping blood from his nose. He looked over to Christophe, shaking his head at his men. "Encaja con él." He instructed them, malice clear in his eyes. Christophe stared at Livius, brown orbs dialing in surprise.
"Merde! Te dije que no vinieras aquí! Go! ¡Fuera!" His voice rattled as the men kicked him, picking him up by his throat and slamming him harder into the wall.

Translation: "Who the hell are you?" "Deal with him." and "I told you not to come in here! Go! Get out!"

Livius ignored Christophe, continuing to plead with the other man.
"Lui è il mio ragazzo!" Livius spoke softly, his eyes filling with tears. "Per favore... non fargli del male, è possibile mantenere i documenti." His voice trembled with the fake tears as they began to drip down his cheeks. "Prometto che non tornerà. Ma vi prego di lasciarlo andare. Lui è la mia vita." He let out a sob as he clasped his hands together in front of him, looking up to the man.

Translation: "He is my boyfriend!" "Please... do not hurt him, you can keep the papers." "I promise he will not come back. But please, let him go. He is my life."

Christophe gawked at him, his eyes trained on Livius even as the men continued to rough him up. No one had ever cried for him before, not even he himself. As touching as it was, he knew it was bullshit. He just hoped Livius got out of this with his life. He didn't want to be responsible for him losing it.
The boss man blinked at Livius, looking from him to his men. Moments passed as he considered, though finally he let out a sigh. "Me siento misericordioso. Yo lo perdono, pero él va a pagar por esto!" He pointed to the blood dripping from his nose. No one raised a hand, or shovel to him and got away with it scott free.

Translate: "I feel merciful. I'll spare him but he is going to pay for this!"

"Dio vi benedica, signore." Livius nodded, tears still dripping down his cheeks as he thanked the man.

Translation: "God bless you, sir."

The man walked over, having his guards hold Christophe up while he took his head. He brought his knee up, blood bursting from the French boys nose as he took the blow. Taking one more minute to watch Christophe bleed, he then took him by his hair and threw him at Livius.
"Go."

"Grazie!" Livius thanked the man as he took Christophe into his arms and ran from the building as fast as his legs would carry him, not stopping until he reached the car in case the man changed his mind. He sat Christophe in the passenger seat and drove for a few blocks before on the side of the road and taking time to wipe the tears from his eyes and calm himself. Sure, it had just been acting but he liked to think he was a good actor. He had really worked himself up. "Are you okay?" He questioned.

Christophe snarled at the question, abandoning his seat in favor of lunging himself at Livius. "What in zhe 'ell were 'ou trying to pull! 'Ou could ave been keeled! And what in zhe f*ck iz up with zhe water workz? Who in zhe 'ell do 'ou think 'ou aree?" He was not hurting Livius, but he was on top on him, shaking his shoulders wildly. "'ou Ztupeed Eetalian!"

"Your temper gets you in many difficult situations, doesn't it?" Livius simply laughed. "But what I did is save your life for the second time, I should think you would be 'appier." He shook his head. He wiped his eyes once more and then spoke in response to the man's other question. "I am an actor." He offered as explanation.

"I deed not azk 'ou to 'elp mee! En fact, I azked 'ou to ztay outzide!" He was so anger his face was burning up. And he had left his shovel. That thought itself made him strikingly ill.

"And if I 'ad stayed outside, you would be dead right now." Livius spoke. "Calm down, you're hurt again." He frowned deeply.

"And probably beeter off." He sighed softly, dry trails of blood ran from his nose. They continued over his chin, and down his neck. Slowly, as though he were tired, he moved back to his seat.

Livius sighed, looking the man over lightly.
"Your shovel, you do not 'ave it." He frowned.

"I do not." Christophe confirmed, his eye brows furrowed as it was stated. He would get his shovel back, no matter what. "My 'ead 'urts." He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down. He was already forming a plan of action on how to get his shovel back, but not tonight. Tonight he was unwell, and it would only end in his death. No, he would wait, at least a day.

"Make sure you do not tilt your head back." Livius murmured. "The blood will make you choke." He gently reached out, one hand resting on the back of Christophe's neck, the other on his cheek, tilting his head down instead of back. His touch was extremely gentle as if he was handling glass and his eyes held a certain glint of emotion. He furrowed his brow lightly as he realized he wanted to care for this man. There was just something about Christophe.

Christophe's eyes snapped over to Livius, doe like in his surprise. No one had ever touched him like that, in any instant. In fact, Livius was the only person besides himself to ever care for one of his injuries.
This man continued to confuse him. Everything he did threw Christophe off, but yet, there was no resentment in the frenchmans heart towards him.
"Don't look at mee like zhat. Don't 'elp mee!" It was hard for him to accept it, no matter how inviting it sounded. "'Ou beetch..." He was far to tired to struggle with Livius, and so he fell back into the seat, his eyes falling shut.

"There is nothing wrong with getting 'elp." Livius sighed, retrieving some napkins he had in his glove box and gently wiping at the blood coming from the man's nose. "I never get 'elp so I try to 'elp other people when I can. I am sorry if you do not like it." He spoke sincerely, though his hands did not leave their spot on Christophe's face.

"I juzt...." Christophe's eyes ghosted over the mans face, they were weary and dark. For such a young man he had already seen so much. "I 'ave neever 'ad 'elp..." And he had finally taught himself he did not need it. The hand on his face was gentle, and though it was foreign he found himself tempted to lean into the touch.

"I know 'ow that feels." Livius gave him a sad smile. "But I can 'elp you. All you 'ave to do is let me." His voice was gentle, his Italian accent thick as he spoke to the other man.

"'elping mee iz dangeerous." Christophe tore his eyes away, a strange ach beginning in his chest. He could not allow himself to become sentimental with this man, it could get Livius hurt and Christophe simply did not want that. He told himself it was only because he owed the man, but he knew better. Besides, he couldnt allow himself to get used to this. Help would not come easy to him, and he should not become accustomed to it.

"I do not care." Livius shook his head. "I want to 'elp you, so I will. Everyone deserves 'elp if they need it." He moved to take Christophe's hand, caressing it gently.

"What aree 'ou doing?" Christophe's eyes were trained on his hand in Livius's. This man was confusing, perplexing Christophe to the point where he had a raging head ache.

"It is called 'olding 'ands." He smirked softly. "I will stop though if you prefer that..." He furrowed his brow lightly, as if worried Christophe would get angry with him.