Work Text:
August 3rd, 1921
“What happened?” he slipped his gloves on before examining the wounds of the man on the table.
“Gun misfire.” the lookalike said calmly, standing off to the side. “Nothing serious.”
Riddle hummed skeptically. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He peered at the wound. “Why were you dealing with guns?” he asked, eyeing the twins wearily.
The uninjured one laughed. “We enjoy… hunting.” his eyes gleamed. “One of our rifles misfired while we were cleaning.”
“There are places to hunt in the city?” Riddle raised an eyebrow as he got to work removing the bullet.
“No, we have a cabin in the mountains. It’s a four-hour drive from the city center.” he explained. His calm smile was unnerving.
Riddle didn’t say anything else as he cut into the skin. There were already several incisions and cuts that implied someone else had tried to remove the bullet and failed, which could complicate the procedure. Surprisingly, the wound was quite shallow, the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital. It was a relatively quick retrieval.
The man twitched as Riddle slowly pulled the bullet from the wound, dropping it on the table.
“Good, it’s out.” The man sat up and rolled his neck. “Let’s get out of here. It smells funny.”
“It’s a hospital.” the other man said. “Of course it smells funny.”
“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes and made to get off the table, but Riddle quickly blocked his path.
“Oh no you don’t.” he put his hands on his hips. “I have to stitch that up. Unless you want to bleed to death…?”
He regarded him with lazy, yet bright, mismatched eyes before shrugging. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He laid back down on the table without a fuss. Riddle blinked. He hadn’t expected him to comply so easily.
“How long have you been awake?” the other man leaned over the table to look his injured twin in the eye.
“The whole time.”
Riddle froze, needle hovering over his skin. “The whole…time?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged again. “I didn’t feel a thing.”
“That’s not- you shouldn’t- how…” Riddle struggled to find words before the other man cut him off.
“Could you please get to work on stitching him up? We have places to be.” He checked his watch pointedly.
“Go easy on him, Jade.” Riddle’s patient smiled at the doctor. “He’s just doing his job.”
Jade’s lips pulled back in what should have been a polite smile, but it made the hair on the back of Riddle’s neck stand up.
“Of course,” Jade said, showing off his unusually sharp teeth. “My mistake.”
Riddle scanned the alley one more time before closing the curtains, this time something caught his eye. A man with blue hair leaned against the building opposite of them, about to light a cigarette. He glanced up and his eyes met Riddle’s. He smiled the same tooth-filled grin as when he had left the hospital. Floyd. Riddle’s stomach dropped and he quickly pulled the curtains closed.
“Trey, Cater,” he said quickly, turning around. The urgency in his voice made the two men look up. Cater from the kitchen and Trey from the couch, sewing back on a button Cater had lost. “Sleep with your guns tonight.”
Cater laughed. “Always so dramatic, Riddle.” He said lightly. “Is there another homeless man in the alley?” he teased.
“Don’t mock him,” Trey scolded. “Will do.” He turned his gaze to Riddle with a warm smile.
Riddle frowned. They never took his attempts at safety seriously. They always thought he was being dramatic, propping a chair underneath every door handle and putting sticks in the windows to keep them from opening, but he was only doing what he was supposed to. Living in New York City was dangerous and they needed to be prepared.
Hence why he bought them all guns for self-defense. It was the least he could do. And now knowing there was a potential mobster right below their window… Riddle shuddered. He needed to keep them safe. It was his job as the eldest and the most educated roommate. He couldn't let anything bad happen. He wouldn't let anything bad happen.
August 4th, 1921
“Don’t scream,” a voice said in his ear. A tremor went down Riddle’s spin as he felt the man’s breath on his neck.
“What am I supposed to do when you say that?” he kept his voice calm and even, a tone he used when dealing with unruly patients. “Exchange pleasantries with you?”
The man laughed. “I like your wit, Goldfish.” he released his grip on his shoulders, and he wheeled around to face him. Floyd just smiled as Riddle glared at him.
“You,” he said, voice dripping with venom. “Are a horrible person.”
“Oh ouch,” he held a hand to his chest mockingly. “Ya really hurt me with that one, Goldfish.”
“My name is not Goldfish.” Riddle put his hands on his hips. “It’s Riddle Rosehearts and if you are going to address me you are going to do it right and call me Dr. Rosehearts. Understand?”
Floyd tilted his head, a smile still on his face. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, doctor.”
“Good.” Riddle nodded rigidly. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you of course,” Floyd put his hands in his pockets. “I have to properly thank the man who saved my life.”
“I didn’t save your life,” Riddle dismissed him with a scoff. “You could’ve lived with the bullet inside you. Although it wouldn’t have been comfortable.”
“Let me treat you to dinner.”
“No,” Riddle said immediately, taken aback by the brazen statement.
“No?” Floyd pouted before quickly smiling again. “C’mon, it’ll be fun! I’ll pick you up after work!”
“I work late tonight,” Riddle said shortly, crossing his arms.
“Then we’ll go out dancing or something!” Floyd bounced on the balls of his feet like an eager child.
“I don’t like-”
“So, I’ll just wait here until your shift is over,” Floyd continued, talking over him. “I’ll drive, of course. I’ll even bring you a change of clothes, so you don’t have to wear that awful uniform!”
“I- what- how dare-” Riddle looked down at his white doctor’s coat and then up at Floyd, trying to find what upset him more. Him bringing his clothes, or him calling his uniform ugly. Which, admittedly, it was. But it wasn’t his place to tell him that.
“So, I’ll see you tonight?” Floyd gazed at him with an expression unfamiliar to Riddle, something almost akin to fondness. He quickly looked away.
“I suppose if you must,” he said hesitantly. “But you will return me to my apartment when I say I’m done,” he insisted over his celebration.
“Of course, of course,” he grinned. “Whatever you want, Goldfish.”
“I told you not to-” he began but Floyd wasn’t listening. He turned around and ran across the street to the other side where a black car was waiting.
“See you tonight!” he waved before sliding in the passenger seat. Riddle could barely make out the driver, Jade, who turned to glare at him before speeding off.
Riddle was pleasantly surprised when he pulled the new shirt on. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from Floyd, he was definitely not expecting the man to find him a suit that actually fit his small stature. The dark red jacket was cut in the latest style, paired with matching red pants. The shirt was just a simple white button up, and the man had provided him with a black tie. Riddle was regrettably impressed.
“Okay, you can look now.” he began folding up his uniform as Floyd lifted his head from the steering wheel, turning around to face him. He looked him up and down once before his eyes returned to his face.
“See? I told ya I’d find you a good outfit.” he grinned.
“I am impressed by your skills,” Riddle said simply. “Well done.”
Floyd practically glowed with pride.
“So where are you taking me?” Riddle leaned back against the seat, taking more time to examine the luxurious car now that he wasn’t worried about being watched.
The seats were of brown leather and stitched with an interesting pattern that looked custom made. Up the backs of the seats the stitching made up the image of a coral reef, complete with little fish and everything. Riddle ran his fingers over the back of Floyd’s seat, admiring the handiwork as he talked.
“Since ya don’t like dancing, I’d figured we could go somewhere calmer,” he chattered lightly. “I know a place with some of the best drinks in town.”
“Drinks?” Riddle repeated. “As in alcoholic beverages?”
“Yeah, why?” Floyd’s eyebrows furrowed as he regarded him in the rearview mirror.
“That’s illegal,” Riddle’s eyes widened. “Under the eighteenth amendment-”
“Oh lighten up,” Floyd interrupted. “You’re not gonna get in trouble.”
“We’ll be breaking the law!” Riddle exclaimed. “Does that not concern you?”
“Naw,” Floyd shrugged. “‘Sides, if the cops, the last thing they’ll be doing is arresting a little thing like you.”
Riddle ignored the insult and frowned. “But still-”
“Do you want me to take you home?” Floyd demanded. “You said I was to take ya home whenever you wanted and since you’re obviously not pleased with my chosen destination I can take you home.” he turned around in his seat despite the fact he was still driving. “So what’ll it be?”
Riddle sighed in a long, suffering way. “We can go to your stupid illegal destination,” he said. “But I’d better not get arrested for this.”
“Oh I can assure ya, ya won’t,” Floyd grinned.
The speakeasy was nearly abandoned, only a few of the tables were occupied, which was a shame because the setup was quite grand. The floors were made of polished marble and large columns lined the sides of the room. Most of the area was set aside for dancing and there was a stage void of any musicians. Despite the lack of many people, the place was loud with voices and laughter. The few people that were there seemed ready to have a good time.
Floyd led him to a table in a quieter corner closer to the bar than the stage.
“There’s nothing scheduled for tonight so everything's going to stay pretty subdued.” he told him. “I would’ve taken ya on a busier night, but ya said ya don’t like dancing so,” he shrugged. “Can I get ya something to drink?”
“As long as it's non-alcoholic, yes.” Riddle unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down. “I don’t wish to break the law tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Floyd rolled his eyes but there was no malicious intent behind the action. “I’ll be back.”
Riddle took the time that Floyd was away to fully examine the people around him. There were maybe twenty others, nearly all men. He only spotted three women, all of them at the same crowded table. They seemed to be playing a game of cards and from the sizable stack of money in front of them, were doing quite well for themselves. Everyone was dressed nice enough, but not in a way that implied they were out to party. More like they knew they were going out and dressed in a way that would be passable for anywhere.
Riddle let his gaze return to Floyd who was talking with the bartender, an older looking man. Floyd was all smiles and kept poking the man sitting next to him at the bar. The man kept knocking his hand away and giving him angry looks. Riddle nearly had to do a double take as the man Floyd was bothering was his exact double.
Of all the places Jade could be, he just happened to be at the same speakeasy as his twin brother. He was hunched over the counter and seemed to be going over some paperwork if the papers Floyd kept trying to slide away from him were anything to go by.
Doing work inside a bar? What was Jade playing at? Riddle’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he tried to brush his suspicion off. When he was young and drinking was legal, his father had often done his work with a glass of whiskey nearby. Now that drinking was illegal, Riddle supposed it wouldn’t be uncommon for those sorts of people to just bring their work with them when they went out. It wasn’t like Jade worked here or anything.
September 10th, 1921
“You’re going out with him again?” Cater demanded, sprawled out on Riddle’s bed. “All you do is hang out with him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” a faint blush grew on Riddle’s cheeks as he brushed his hair. “I am not out with him all the time.”
“It’s practically every night you call and tell me not to pick you up because he’s coming,” Trey crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.
“You both are being dramatic,” Riddle insisted. “I’m home all the time. I don't enjoy going out, I’m not that type of guy.”
“Mhm,” Cater and Trey hummed in unison.
Riddle rolled his eyes.
“What’s his name again?” Cater rolled over on his stomach. “Franklin?”
“Floyd,” Trey corrected. “And he’s rich, right?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Riddle examined himself in the mirror, making sure everything fit perfectly. “I don’t care about that sort of thing.”
“But didn’t you mention he drove a nice car?” Trey continued.
“He said it was a Rolls Royce,” Cater piped up. “Aren’t those supposed to be expensive?”
“Extremely,” Trey’s eyes gleamed.
“I wouldn’t know,” Riddle shrugged.
“Didn’t you grow up rich?” Cater raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, but I didn’t pay attention to the brands of things.” Riddle said simply. “Having nice things was never a priority for me like it was for my parents. And I think Floyd said it was his brother's car.” he added.
“Still,” Trey sighed. “You must get him to come pick you up sometime so I can see it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Riddle said. “What if you two scare him away?”
Trey snorted. “Unlikely.”
“This is the guy you met at the hospital, right?” Cater inspected his nails. “He sounds scary to me.”
“You met him at the hospital?” Trey’s eyebrows furrowed.
“He came in with a gunshot wound to his side.” Riddle explained. “It was nothing serious.”
“How’d he get shot?” Trey questioned, his voice full of concern.
“His brother said it was a hunting accident?” Riddle tilted his head. “I’m pretty sure he was lying about that, but I didn’t want to ask.” He picked up his gun, making sure it was in pristine condition. He never went anywhere without it. Especially not when he was planning to meet Floyd.
Cater gasped loudly, nearly falling off the bed. “Do you think…?” he asked excitedly. “Do you think he got shot by the cops because he’s a bootlegger?”
Riddle nearly dropped his handgun as Trey’s arm slipped from the door.
“He is most definitely not a bootlegger!” Riddle exclaimed, setting his gun down quickly. “How could you say such a thing?”
Cater shrugged. “He apparently has a fancy car, or at least, his brother does. He got shot, which is suspicious in and of itself. And he’s likely rich.”
“Being rich doesn’t make someone a criminal,” Riddle said harshly.
“But those are three common signs of one,” Trey said gravely.
Riddle shook his head. He had briefly entertained the thought that Floyd did something illegal for a living, but he quickly dismissed it. Sure, he and his brother were pretty suspicious, but some families were just like that.
“Tell us more about him then,” Cater sat up. “What’s he like?”
“He’s,” Riddle paused, trying to find the right words to describe Floyd. “Tall,” he decided. “And maybe a bit intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” Trey crossed his arms. “How so?”
“He looks like a cat that’s just caught a mouse,” Riddle admitted. “But he’s surprisingly thoughtful. And talkative, and excitable, and almost childlike, I’d say.”
“I’m picturing a tall toddler from your description.” Trey frowned.
Riddle smiled. “Well, you’re not far off. He has a lot of energy.”
“Energy?” Cater smiled wickedly. Riddle’s face turned beet red.
“Not like that!” he squeaked, covering his face with his hands as Cater just laughed. “He hasn’t even kissed me yet!”
“He hasn’t?” Cater pouted dramatically. “Haven’t you been going out with him for over a month?”
“Yes,” Riddle looked himself over in the mirror, making sure everything was in place. “But one shouldn’t rush these things. He’s my boyfriend, not my husband.”
“Still,” Cater huffed.
A knock sounded at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Trey pushed away from the doorframe as Riddle jumped to his feet at the same time. They sized each other up for a moment before dashing for the front door.
Trey had a head start, but he was still in socks while Riddle was barefoot and thus had better traction. Coming around the corner into the living room, Riddle managed to make up a lot of ground and slid into Trey, who lost his balance and fell over the side of the couch. Pausing only just to make sure his friend had landed on the cushions, Riddle continued his sprint for the door. He was out of breath by the time he reached it. He lightly patted his hair to make sure it was still in place before opening the door.
On the other side stood Floyd. He was dressed in a navy-blue suit with a lavender tie. Not a combination Riddle would have picked, but he made it work somehow. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Floyd’s eyes lit up when he saw him.
“Goldfish!” he sang. “These are for you!” He held the flowers out to him.
Riddle smiled, accepting the gift. “Thank you, they’re lovely.”
Floyd grinned and opened his mouth to say something else but that’s when Cater and Trey joined Riddle at the door.
“Is this Floyd?” Cater asked, looking him up and down skeptically. “He looks too skinny.”
“Did you drive your car?” Trey demanded, leaning over Riddle’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Floyd said hesitantly. Trey let out a whoop and pushed past them, dashing for the stairs.
“Trey, your shoes!” Cater grabbed a pair of shoes off the shoe rack and took off after him.
“Those are my roommates,” Riddle told Floyd as he watched their retreating backs.
“Ah,” he said, attention returning to Riddle. “They seem lively.”
“You have no idea,” Riddle shook his head. “I feel like a mother with her two kids.”
Floyd laughed. “That’s exactly what Azul says about me and Jade! And Jade says about me and Azul.”
“Either way you’re the child,”
Floyd grinned.
November 25th, 1921
“Floyd told you to meet him here?” the silver haired man asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Yes,” Riddle said firmly, holding his head high.
“Hm,” he glared at him for a moment before sighing. “The man has always been eccentric. I’m Azul,” he pulled his glove off his hand and held it out for him to shake.
“He’s mentioned you before,” Riddle shook his hand quickly, letting go as soon as it was socially acceptable.
“Oh?” Azul raised an eyebrow. “What exactly did he say about me?” he leaned forward. “Depending on his words, he might be in some serious trouble.”
Riddle smiled nervously. “He said you were good friends with him and Jade,” he said evenly. “And that you’re often managing the two of them or Jade’s managing the two of you.”
Azul tilted his head before smiling. “Yes,” he said warmly. “That sounds about right. You should consider yourself very lucky,” he continued. “I don’t often let my subordinates take lovers.”
“Oh?” Riddle was taken aback by his words. “The twins work for you?”
Azul just smiled. “In a way.” was his skeptical response.
“Goldfish!” The sound of Floyd’s voice filled the room, and Riddle felt his arms wrap around his. “You came!”
“Of course I did,” he said lightly, waiting for him to release his.
“So you are with the mob,” Riddle’s breath caught in his throat and he turned away. He couldn't bear to look into Floyd’s pleading eyes.
“C’mon Goldfish,” he said soothingly. “It should change nothing. You just know where my paycheck comes from, that’s all.”
“But don’t you,” His breath hitched. “Kill people?” he asked.
Floyd didn’t respond and he risked a glance at him. His face was unreadable. “Sometimes it’s just part of the job.” he looked down at the ground. “Not for me.” His eyes were cold when they met hiss. “I seek it out. I enjoy it.”
Riddle’s eyes widened and he took a step back. His entire perception of Floyd crumbled before his eyes. He wasn’t a sweet, childlike man he originally thought he was. His personality, his behavior, his actions- he didn’t know why he didn’t realize it earlier. This man was certifiably insane.
“Riddle,”
He flinched at the sound of his real name coming out of his mouth.
“Goldfish, listen,” he took a hesitant step forward. “Isn’t it better that I like what I do for a living? I mean,” he chuckled lightly. “The job’s easier to do if you’re not revolted by it.” He reached out to touch him, but he jerked away.
“Don’t touch me,” Riddle breathed. “I don’t know you.”
Floyd’s face fell. “It-it’s still me, Goldfish. I’m still Floyd.”
“No, you’re not.”
Floyd looked as if he had slapped him. “The Leechs serve the Ashengrottos, that’s how it's always been.” He drew himself back to his full height. “I am simply upholding my duty in the family, doing what’s expected of me. I thought you could understand that.”
“I don’t commit murder,” Riddle hissed.
December 4th, 1921
Riddle’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the mafioso in his living room. “Jade,” he said, keeping his voice calm.
“Riddle,” Jade nodded politely at him before returning to examining the photos that decorated the walls of his living room.
“Did Floyd send you?” Riddle demanded. “Because if he did you can tell him-”
“No,” Jade turned to face him. “My brother did not send me. In fact,” he smiled. “He would probably have a fit if he knew I was here.”
“Oh,” Riddle deflated slightly. “Why are you here then?”
Jade clasped his hands behind his back. “I am here to remind you of the twenty-seven patients that died under your parent’s negligent care.”
“Excuse me?” he took a hesitant step back. Jade only continued to smile in that same unnervingly calm way of his.
“You parents,” he repeated. “Killed people.”
“I- that’s- that happens in our line of work,” Riddle stuttered, as the color slowly drained from his face. “When you’re responsible for that many lives, things happen-”
“I am well aware of that,” Jade tapped his chin. “So, in your eyes, it is acceptable for a medical professional to have a body count,” he cocked his head. “A profession designed to save people?”
“I-” Riddle paused. “Yes. Some things are unavoidable. Like death.”
Jade chuckled. “It’s funny you say that. I suppose you also have no problem with soldiers killing their enemies or cops shooting criminals.”
“What’s the point of this, Jade?” Riddle asked, exasperated. “You’re starting to annoy me.”
“I am here merely to point out the hypocrisy in your eyes,” he put a hand to his chest. “I rarely have to sully my hands in my family’s line of work. My brother isn’t so lucky.” he shook his head and continued. “It is his job to find the traitors, the enemies of the family, the members who break the code,” Jade’s eyes shone. “He is merely a soldier, protecting his home and the people he cares about. How could you belittle his occupation like you did?”
Riddle’s lip curled. “Floyd is a criminal; his occupation is not deserving of respect.”
“And neither is yours,” Jade’s voice was harsh and blunt as he regarded him. “I see no fault in a man who doesn’t kill the innocent, only the guilty. The ones seen as guilty no matter what side you stand on.”
“It’s not that simple-”
“It is,” he interrupted. “When you’re viewing it with the right lens.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. “You never saw this,” he said, holding it up. “But Floyd was excited to make you a part of the family. He still is.”
Riddle suppressed a noise in the back of his throat.
“The Leechs may be mafia through and through, but work does not come home,” Jade stowed the bow back in his coat. “If Floyd wasn’t the most feared capo in New York, I bet he’d never hurt a fly. But since he is a mafioso, a good one at that, he has the following traits. One,” he held up a finger. “My brother is fiercely loyal. It can be a detriment sometimes if I’m being honest. But he’s not going to abandon or betray you. Two; Floyd is protective. He won’t let any sort of harm befall you. And there certainly won’t be any harm done to you by his hand.”
Riddle opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Three; he is in love with you.” Jade let his hand drop. “Combine those three things and I see no reason why you should refuse my brother,” he crossed his arms.
“I can’t just-” Riddle ran a hand through his hair. “He’s a gangster. You are too for that matter,” Jade nodded in agreement. “I’d have to turn a blind eye to so many things, I’m not sure if my moral compass will allow it.” he said shakily.
“Of course it will,” Jade smirked. “I don’t think you’re as morally opposed to us as you like to think.”
“I…” Riddle trailed off, staring into space.
“I understand. You have a lot of thinking to do,” Jade straightened his jacket. “I’ll help you. Floyd is going to be at that little cafe down the street until nightfall. As luck would have it, one of our associates lives nearby. I hope you make the right decision.”