Vinnie remembered everything in these hard, fast memories that crashed into him from nowhere, hit him so hard he wouldn't be able to catch his breath for a handful of seconds. He wouldn't be thinking about it, would be doing something completely normal – reaching for the phone, paying for a cup of coffee – and it would come back to him with a jolt. He'd freeze, lost in the memories and trying to just breathe through it.

It wasn't the big things – it wasn't the huge expanse of what he'd gone through with Sonny that was throwing him for a loop. It wasn't these huge issues of undercover work and betrayal and murder that Pete seemed to think it was, that Frank seemed to think it was. They kept trying to get him to talk through it, to work it out as if this was any other undercover gig – a tough one, sure, that didn’t end as good as it could have, but still a day on the job that you needed to get through.

It wasn't that at all. He never thought about Sonny garroting Patrice, never thought about Sonny afterwards, in the theatre, bloody and screaming at Vinnie, never thought about him (bravely, Vinnie thought sometimes. Gallantly, in his own way.) silently and deliberately sticking his hand in the power grid, never once taking his eyes off of Vinnie as he did so.

That wasn't the stuff that was making it hard for Vinnie to sleep at night, hard for him to keep track of things during the day, hard for him to focus on walking or talking or breathing every hour of every day for the rest of his sorry life.

Nah, it was smaller than that, but it was sizzling right beneath the surface all the goddamn time. Vinnie would be reaching into his pocket to get change to buy a newspaper, and suddenly, Sonny's coming up behind him, brushing up against him lightly, just running his hands over Vinnie's shoulders and down his back, straightening his suit jacket. Sonny's breath would be hot against the side of Vinnie's neck, and Vinnie would stand up real straight to hide the shiver than ran down his spine. "Lookin' good, Vinnie," he'd say, voice low in Vinnie's ear. Vinnie would be able to hear the grin in Sonny's voice as he spoke. "I gotta take you shopping more often."

After a second (or two, or three), Vinnie would shake it off. Buy the paper and most of the time no one even noticed. Which was good, it needed to be that way, because if anyone started noticing, that meant he'd lost his edge, and that couldn't happen. It was all right – he was holding it together okay, and he pretty much always had another life going on inside his head. This was just another angle to hold onto, another thing to box away in his brain, and make sure no one ever saw anything except the Vinnie Terranova they were supposed to see.

But at night, he didn't sleep. He didn't have to worry about dreams, because he couldn't even settle enough to get there. He would lie there awake in the dark with his eyes closed, as if he was sleeping instead of punch drunk from the sense-memories washing over him, instead of wallowing in them. It was a bad decision and he knew it. But it was easier in the dark to let himself believe that he'd get past it if he just let himself remember. The memories were burned into him, and there wasn't any way to escape them.

Sonny looking at him, Sonny always watching him. Sonny's eyes, bright with humor – sometimes sick and twisted, sometimes just – funny. Funny, as if he was a normal guy, as if they both were normal guys, as if their every move wasn't focused around death and betrayal.

They were cut from the same cloth, and if Vinnie didn't like it, at least he could admit it to himself. He had different goals from Sonny, but he would do whatever it took to get there. So when Sonny did things like murdering a guy – doing it for Vinnie, doing it as a gift - Vinnie got that, in a fucked-up way. He understood where Sonny was coming from. Didn't mean he liked it, didn't mean it was something he himself would ever do, but – the way Sonny did it, the way he offered it up as a surprise, for Vinnie, something that he knew would make Vinnie happy – you know, as insane as it was, for someone like Sonny, it was like candy and flowers. Wrapped up in a bow. And the part that was really fucked up – so fucked up that Vinnie didn't like to think on it too close – was that through the haze of wrong, wrong, this is so wrong, Vinnie felt it, too. How this sealed the deal – how it was the two of them against the world, Sonny behind the wheel as he burned rubber and drove the two of them off into the night.

That was the night that Vinnie helped Sonny bury the body. He called it in later, told the feds where to find it, but it didn’t change the fact that he and Sonny dug a grave together, and that even during that grim procedure, there was still this energy between them that was driving Vinnie wild inside. Sonny, resting his weight on his own shovel, looked at him as he tossed the last shovelful of dirt onto the shallow grave. Sonny's eyes were bright despite the darkness of the woods. Vinnie held his gaze for a long moment, and then Sonny grinned, sudden and wicked.

Vinnie's mouth curved into an answering grin. He told himself it was a reaction, same as always: undercover, careful, read the other guy, play the part, do what your cover would do. Easy enough to believe, easy enough to roll with. And when Sonny jerked his head towards the car, Vinnie just followed him – the way he was supposed to, the way he was paid to. That was it, that was all.

Right. Keep telling yourself that, Vinnie. Maybe someday you'll believe it.

There was a moment at the car when Vinnie hung back, waiting for Sonny to walk to the back, or even around to the passenger seat. Vinnie had started as Sonny's driver, and when it was just the two of them, he still drove. Driving the two of them here, that was Sonny's gift to Vinnie. Vinnie figured that was over, and they were back to regular business. He ignored the electricity racing through his body, thrumming between him and Sonny. Tried to pretend it was nothing, or at least that it was normal.

But when Sonny got to the car, he stayed on the drivers' side. Stopped for a second, his back to Vinnie, and Vinnie's eyes traced the lean line of Sonny's back. With his suit jacket off, his shirtsleeves rolled up, Sonny looked harder. Looked a little more like the street tough he had started out as. And when he looked over his shoulder at Vinnie, Vinnie didn't jerk his eyes up from where they had wandered. He just let them drift up slowly, and Christ, this was dangerous, this was so fucking dangerous. Sonny wasn't the easiest read in the world and even if Vinnie got the signals completely right, it was still just so goddamn dangerous.

"What do you want to do now, Vinnie?" Sonny's voice was low, amused. He moved as he asked the question, walking slowly alongside the limo to the rear door. Sonny paused there, his hand resting on the handle for a second before he opened it. He stood back, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as he leaned against the side of the car. The light spilling from inside was bright and alarming in the dark of the woods, and Vinnie's throat tightened, his heart beating fast.

"Sonny," he said, and his voice came out tight, sounding too loud to his own ears.

Sonny tilted his head. "You want to get in the car, Vinnie?"

It was a question, not an order, and that's what broke Vinnie, right there in the dark woods with a shovel clutched in his hand and sweat rolling down his back. "Yeah," he said hoarsely, and Sonny's smile gleamed for a second in the darkness. He held out his hand for the shovel, still smiling, and Vinnie swallowed and handed it to him.

Vinnie ducked in, so goddamn aware of Sonny standing there, watching him. Sonny didn't follow him right away, leaving Vinnie sitting uneasily on the back seat, where he'd seldom sat before, his heart pounding, listening to Sonny unlock the trunk, toss both shovels in with heavy clunks. The trunk closed and leaves crunched under Sonny's feet as Vinnie's brain told him, over and over, that he was as close to dying as anything else, right here, right now. That this could go either way, and this was a goddamn stupid chance to take. That trusting Sonny Steelgrave wasn’t something a man did if he wanted to live.

But when Sonny slid through the door, so goddamn smooth, tugging it closed behind him, Vinnie didn't care. He was perfectly willing to take any goddamn chance there was. The door closed, sending them into the darkness you only get outside the city, the thick kind that made you feel hidden from everything and everyone.

Sonny kept moving, slid gracefully across the seat and didn’t stop even when he was right up against Vinnie. Vinnie's hands rose all on their own, clutching Sonny's shoulders as Sonny moved against him, his breath hot against Vinnie's face for a second before he kissed him, smooth and sure of himself. Sure of himself, just like always, only nothing like always. Because Sonny was kissing him, and it wasn't rough or nasty, it was – intense. Demanding, yeah, but that was Sonny all over, wasn't it? Demanding that Vinnie respond, and Christ, it wasn't like he could stop it. He was hard from the second Sonny laid hands on him, running them down Vinnie's sides, over his chest, making Vinnie's nipples tight, his cock throb hard in his pants – the expensive suit pants that Sonny had bought him, ruined now, probably – they weren't made for grave digging.

Christ, this was fucked up, or should have been. Only Sonny was kissing him so intently, and it was way the hell beyond a power play, not even close to what Vinnie had thought it might be. (When he let himself think about it. When he considered, sometimes, that yeah, Sonny might do it one of these days, narrow his eyes at Vinnie and demand this, take it roughly, make it hurt, just to show Vinnie that he could. That would have made sense. That would have been something Vinnie could have come back from.)

It wasn't anything like that. It was the two of them, and Sonny was smooth, yeah, but panting against Vinnie's cheek when he pulled away, wrapping his hand in Vinnie's hair, not tugging it, just holding on. He looked at Vinnie in the darkness. "Vinnie," he said, his voice hoarse. "This is about you and me. You get me?"

Vinnie lifted his chin, his hands tight on Sonny's hips, twisted sideways on the seat, a make-out position he hadn't been in since high school. It felt like high school again – so turned on and sure you'd never get there, his cock so fucking hard he felt as if his head was going to explode, sure that if Sonny so much as brushed up against him, he'd come in his pants.

But Sonny was waiting him out, still looking at him. Not letting either of them out of this easily. No pretending it wasn't anything; no pretending this was another test, something else Vinnie was supposed to prove to Sonny. "I get you," Vinnie said finally. He tightened his hands on Sonny's hips, and Sonny shut his eyes. Vinnie's chest was tight, and he couldn't breathe.

"Right." Sonny sounded breathless, something Vinnie never thought he'd hear. "C'mere."

He pulled Vinnie into another mind-blowing kiss, pressing his tongue inside Vinnie's mouth. Vinnie hadn't been kissed like that in… He didn't think he'd ever been kissed like that. His heart was pounding and he couldn't get enough, there wasn't any way he'd ever be able to get enough. He was going after it, chasing Sonny's taste, his tongue, the heat, and only when he leaned back to catch his breath did he realize he'd pulled Sonny over to him, that Sonny was straddling him on the seat, pushing against him hard, making Vinnie dizzy with it, desperate for it with every goddamn move he made.

"Sonny," he managed, his hands sliding tight around Sonny's ass. "You –"

"Shut up," Sonny said thickly. "Just –" He moved his mouth down Vinnie's neck, and Vinnie felt the sharp sting of his teeth.

"Jesus," he said. "Fucking - Sonny," and then he had Sonny on his back on the seat, sliding on top of him before he could even think about it. Vinnie was desperate for it, needed this and needed Sonny and needed more. Sonny arched up at the same time, pulling Vinnie down against him, his legs spread wide, pressing his hard cock up against Vinnie's. Vinnie groaned, loud, glad they were in the woods, that this hadn't happened on some side street in the city where it would have been so much more dangerous. But it was so fucking stupid – the longer they stayed here, the more risks they were taking. Fucking by an unmarked grave – his life had gotten here somehow.

"Come on, Vinnie." Sonny's voice was commanding, but not in the same way as when he was giving orders. He was panting and his voice was tight – needy. "Come on," he said again, his hands working between Vinnie's legs, forcing him to lift up, hold still, as Sonny undid his pants, shoved them and his shorts down his hips before wrapping one hand, strong and smooth, around Vinnie's cock. "Christ, you're a handful," he said, and Vinnie breathed out a shaky laugh. He was holding himself up, one knee braced between Sonny's legs, one foot on the floor of the limo. He stared down at Sonny, who had his eyes lowered, watching his hand move on Vinnie's cock. Jesus.

"You okay there, Vin?" Sonny's voice was low. "You're shaking."

"I –" Vinnie tried to smile. "You're killing me here."

Sonny grinned. "Nah, Vinnie, I wouldn't do that to you." He released Vinnie's cock and Vinnie groaned before he could stop himself. "Don't be greedy," Sonny said, amused, reaching down to undo his own pants. Sonny pulled his cock out – long and as hard as Vinnie's own – wrapping his hand around it and jerking it slowly, watching Vinnie watch him. "What do you want, Vinnie?" he said softly.

Vinnie wanted everything. He wanted it all. He wanted to drop down and rub himself off against Sonny. He wanted Sonny to put his hand back on Vinnie, jerk him off. He wanted to – Christ, he wanted to fuck Sonny. He just – "Sonny," he said, and slid to the floor, wrapping his hand around Sonny's cock.

"Christ." Sonny's hands were hot against the back of Vinnie's neck, holding on.

Vinnie leaned in and sucked Sonny's cock into his mouth, and Sonny's hands tightened as Sonny cursed above him, shoving his hips up like he couldn't help it. "Fuck, Vinnie, fuck." Vinnie was lost in the taste of Sonny, the feel of him fucking into his mouth, his hips tense and moving under Vinnie's hands. Vinnie was taking him deep, Christ, wanted to swallow him whole, wanted to suck him until he didn't know his own name, until it was just him and Vinnie, lost in this and outside of everything else in the goddamn world.

Sonny was swearing steadily under his breath, close, muttering Vinnie's name between curses. Vinnie let go, let Sonny go deep. He had one hand slung over Sonny's hips, holding him down as best he could, and was stroking his own cock with his other hand, hard and fucking slick, he was so turned on by this. He wanted to stay here forever, caught here on the edge of coming, both of them tied together by this need, but Sonny was tightening his hold, was crying out and jerking underneath Vinnie as he came in Vinnie's mouth.

"Jesus," he kept saying, "Oh, Jesus, Vinnie."

Vinnie swallowed, and swallowed again, his hand moving desperately on his own cock, so fucking close to coming, but not wanting to miss a second of this. With one last thrust of his hips, Sonny spurted again in Vinnie's mouth, and collapsed back against the seat.

"Christ." Vinnie pushed back onto his aching knees, his hand moving frantically on his cock. "Christ, Sonny, that was – " He was kneeling up over Sonny, leaning forward and kissing him, hot and messy and wild. Sonny kissed him back, lazy and letting Vinnie take control. Vinnie was panting against his mouth, as he jerked himself off, close, so close. His hand moving even faster, his balls pulled up tight, and he was going to – he was this fucking close – he – "God, oh god, fucking - Sonny –" And he came, looking down as he stroked himself, coming all over Sonny's stomach, all over Sonny's shirt (his expensive shirt, the one with the mother of pearl buttons, the one with the fancy cuffs. The one he'd dug a grave in, the same one he'd fucked Vinnie in).

Vinnie was was coming apart here, in the back of the limo, covered in dirt and sweat, the taste of Sonny's come still in his mouth. Sonny watched him, unblinking in the dimness, and Vinnie's shaking arm gave way, and he collapsed down onto Sonny, his face against Sonny's shoulder. Sonny smelled like clean sweat and sex.

"There you go, Vinnie." Sonny's hand rested warm on the back of his head for a second, then moved down, tracing over Vinnie's back. "That's it."

Vinnie's head was spinning. It was wrong in so many ways. There wasn't any way this was going to ever be right; there was nothing he could do to make it work. But Sonny moved his hand slowly over Vinnie's back, let Vinnie rest his weight against him, both of them messy, both of them destroyed. Vinnie kept his eyes closed for a handful of seconds, breathing in the thick air, feeling Sonny's heartbeat pulsing against his temple.

Somewhere in his building, a door slammed close, echoing loudly in the night, and Vinnie jerked into awareness in his own bed, sweaty and hard. He twisted around, pushing the blankets down and off, turning his face into the cool sheet and pressing his cock against the mattress. He closed his eyes tight and ignored it. This was a new job, here, now. He wasn't Sonny's right-hand man anymore. He wasn't that Vinnie Terranova anymore. He could move on from that; he could remember the big stuff, he could be the mover and the player and hide everything he needed to hide.

It was the small things that got to him like this, over and over again. Those moments of Sonny's hands on his shoulders, Sonny's breath against his cheek, Sonny's heartbeat underneath him. Those were the things that set him back; those were the things that stopped him in his tracks and tore him away from what was going on here and now.

Small things; tiny moments. It was dangerous. Vinnie's cock was still hard. He dug his fingernails into his palms and kept his eyes shut. Everything was about time and place, and he was over that time, he was past that place. He was a different Vinnie Terranova, here and now. Anything else? Those tiny moments? That was someone else's life. He was over it.

~end~

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