Tangible Schizophrenia


The City Extra: Closing Time

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13. BDSM. Er…hat-kink? Blame lil_neko and inkbug.
Pairing: Miguel/Dean/G, Sands/El/Abberline/Carolina.
Feedback: Good lines, spelling errors, whatever.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine except Miguel, and that's questionable.
Notes: Set in a parallel Prohibition-era Los Angeles called Los Diablos, where history didn't quite go as ours did. Miguel is an OMC who looks like this. //words// in Spanish. Part of The City series. Dedicated to hippediva, in return for her help on 'The Delta.' Also my 200th fic, more or less.
Summary: El and the others take a little while to clean up after a good show.


Fred wandered into the backstage area of the Perla Negra, searching for El. He spotted the other man fiddling with a guitar across the space. "El? Miguel wants to know why you're not out yet…"

El looked up, and Fred froze. Paradoxically, because the heat in that gaze was enough to scorch the flesh from his body. He licked his lips, which suddenly seemed dry as bone dust, and retreated as El came forward. His back hit the wall, and then he couldn't move. Could only watch as the leather-clad hand touched the brim of his fedora. //This is new…//


Carolina walked in, stopped and squeaked.

Fred's coat was hanging from one arm, and his shirt was unbuttoned, tails crumpled up by his waist. His belt and tie were missing, but judging by the way his arms disappeared behind him, she could guess where they had gone. And his head was thrown back against the wall to expose creamy skin from throat to navel. El was pressed up against one side of him, face buried in Fred's neck and one hand splayed over Fred's hip. A familiar-looking hat dangled from El's fingers.

"What's going on? Why's the twanging fuck taking so long?" Sands, that sneaky little prick, had silently padded up beside her. He cocked his head for a few seconds, then snorted. "Motherfucking devils, El. You couldn't wait till we got back home?"

El leisurely removed himself from Fred's throat, taking a last lick as the other man trembled and moaned. When he saw Sands, the lazy fire in his eyes ratcheted up a notch. "Another one," he noted in a suspiciously casual tone.

Carolina glanced from him to Sands. What was he…oh. "I bought them hats," she shrugged as she walked over to El and snuggled in.

"Yeah, she did. Stupid, aren't they?" Sands reached up and took his off, wearing a contemptuous expression as he spun it on his index finger. "Honestly, I would…El? El?"

He started to edge toward the door, comprehending fear leaking into his face.



Lorenzo stepped in and promptly stepped out, throwing up an arm as a shield. //Christ Jesus, El. No one wants to see that shit.//

"Hi," El said, holding out a hand to the women on Lorenzo's other arm, who were staring interestedly at the tangle of bodies and clothing on the floor. "I'm El, his cousin. Nice to meet you, Miss…"

"…Kelly. Mary Kelly," murmured the redhead as she took the offered hand and gave it a firm, brief shake. Not taking her eyes from El, she pointed at the other woman. "And this is Liz Stride."

Fred peeked out from beneath a slit-eyed Carolina who was almost growling, and when he recognized the woman, he ducked behind El. Sands, on the other hand, calmly sat up and produced a smarmy smile. "How d'you do? Take it you carry the guns for stickboy here? Just remember: if they're shooting at you, run in the opposite direction."

Mary and Liz flinched and quickly disappeared into the hallway, while Lorenzo wordlessly snarled. //El, I'm going to strangle him. Fucking purring lunatic.//

//No, you aren't.// El calmly finished dressing himself, then helped a shaky Carolina strap on her shoes and forced Sands at gunpoint to put on his clothes. //Gatito, please shut up//, he said pleasantly as he stuffed Sands' trampled hat at the other man's complaining mouth. //Lorenzo, hurry up and go after your girls. I'll meet you at the cars.//

//You better, because I am never coming to get you again.// Still fuming, Lorenzo stalked after his two hangers-on.

“So…I take it you like the hats?” Fred asked, at last emerging from his hiding place. He stood up a little too fast and winced; he was going to be limping for days, his wrists were bruised completely round, and the stinging bites on his neck were a little too high to be covered by a collar. But then El rubbed his palm over the small of Fred’s back, soothing away the worst of the ache, and Fred had to grin. He turned his crushed fedora over in his hands. “Ruined. Sorry, Carolina.”

“That’s all right.” She tottered unsteadily towards the door, shoving an equally wobbly Sands along while behind them, El and Fred retrieved their various bags and cases before followed. Her white smile flashed over one shoulder. //El can help me shop for new ones.//


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