red Currant #5, Mango #13 + hot fudge
Story: Blaze Mafia Family
Title: Planting the Seed
Prompts: Red Currant #5: dry spell, Mango #13: calling for backup + hot fudge
Rating: PG13 for conniving assholery from everybody
Characters: Dean “DeeDee” Decarlo, Draven Blaze, Firebird Blaze
Summary: One week after Atlas’ death. I might slap a chopped nuts on this later when I’m not so enamored with DeeDee, but for now I take perverse pleasure in the idea that he’s the catalyst for all of the family drama that ensues post-Atlas death. He’s just that kind of crazy. I have way too much fun writing Firebird and Dean verbally spar; he’s the first one I’ve written that can keep up with her! XD
“Congratulations, Draven.”
Draven jerked away from the man that appeared right at his back and whispered into his ear. “What the fuck are you doing here, Decarlo?”
Dean motioned to the graveyard that people were leaving en masse now that the funeral was over. “Paying my respects to Atlas, of course. He was a good friend. Though I must say I’m disappointed in him for going out in such a dull way.”
“He didn’t exactly choose to get shot down,” Draven grumbled.
“There’s always a choice,” Dean corrected, then waved his hand, “But that’s neither here nor there. The past is the past and I’m much more interested in the future. Now that Atlas is dead, you’re the big man on campus. How does it feel, Boss-man?”
“Go fuck yourself, Decarlo,” Draven snapped. “You know full well Firebird is the new boss.”
“And you’re actually going to go along with that?” Dean tsked. “Say it isn’t so.”
“Atlas trained Firebird to be his heir.” Draven’s irritation with that statement rang thru loud and clear.
“Birdie is a tasty little bit, but is she really fit to lead your family? Young, inexperienced, and a female to boot,” Dean ticked off all of Firebird’s flaws. “I can only imagine the hits to your family’s reputation.”
“My family is none of your business.”
“No, your family is my pleasure.” Dean pulled out a business card with a number on it. “But, should you be interested, I wouldn’t mind making it my business as well.”
Draven took the card and stared at it. “Why are you talking to me now? You’ve never given me the time of day before.”
“I never paid much attention to you because Atlas was so much more interesting,” Dean said, grinning when Draven’s jaw clenched. “But he’s worm food now, and I need a new playmate.”
Dean clapped Draven’s shoulder and leaned in in what other people would see as a friendly consolation. Dean whispered in Draven’s ear, “But you’ve still got some growing to do before you can play with the big boys. Fortunately, there’s never been a more fertile time for you than now.”
Dean slipped the card in Draven’s suit coat, then patted the older man on the cheek and winked. “Give me a call.”
- - - - - - - - - -
When they were at home, Paul didn’t stay attached to her side because of the excess security and the simple fact that if they spent every second of every day together they would kill each other. Still, Firebird was well aware that heightened security didn’t necessarily mean she was safe. Case in point: Dean Decarlo had gotten past all of her security while she was in the shower and was now lounging in her bed. This was why she kept a gun in the bathroom.
“I don’t remember inviting you into my bed,” Firebird said. She wasn’t inclined to stop pointing her gun at him, and he wasn’t inclined to care.
Dean burrowed further into the multitude of pillows against the headboard. “You’re a bit young to be so forgetful, Birdie.”
“You’re a bit old to be hitting on me.”
“And yet here we both are.” Dean rolled so he was lying across the bed on his stomach with his chin in his hands. He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Wanna make out?”
“No, Dean.” Firebird lowered her weapon with a sigh. “I don’t want to make out with you. What do you want?”
Dean’s smile slipped. “Dean,” he repeated with consternation. “You’re being frightfully dull, Birdie. What’s the problem?”
Firebird gave Dean a pointed look. “Oh, right. Dead daddy and all that jazz,” he said in a bored voice.
“My apologies for being so predictable.”
Dean motioned with his fingers at her silk robe and wet hair. “Tell me you weren’t doing something so tedious as crying in the shower.”
Firebird rolled her eyes and sat down at her vanity to brush out her hair. “Now you’re just being insulting.”
“What’s this?” Dean stood from the bed and leaned against the vanity table so he could see her expression. He was too close to her but Firebird wasn’t willing to give up any tactical ground by pulling away to a more comfortable distance. “No tears for the man that created you? Raised you? Loved you? That’s surprisingly heartless of you. Or could it be because you have other matters to take care of first?”
“Are you referring to anything specific, or are you just trying to cause trouble.”
“I’m wounded, really,” Dean said, placing a hand over his heart to show where she had caused him pain. “I’ve only your best interests in mind.”
“You don’t fool me,” Firebird stated baldly. “My interests are only on your mind when they coincide with your interests.”
“Guilty,” Dean sang. “But this does happen to be one of those situations. Your interests are my interests, and they’re all very interesting.”
“You’re interested in taking out the Lafayettes?” Firebird asked, not pausing in brushing out her wet hair.
“Don’t play coy,” Dean said. “That’s my schtick.”
“If you’re not referring to what I’m about to do to the Lafayette’s, then I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
“Oh please. Like a silly mafia war could hold my attention. And you don’t have to imagine what I’m referring to, dear little bird, because the problems in your family are already a reality.”
“Oh?” was all Firebird said.
“Yes ‘oh’. Daddy dearest died too soon, and now you’ve got a power struggle on your hands.”
“There’s no struggle. I’m the new boss. End of story.”
“One man’s ending is another man’s beginning.” Dean pulled out a business card and set it on the vanity. “I offer my services in convincing any errant uncles how finished the story really is.”
Firebird didn’t even look at the business card before saying, “No.”
Dean pouted, “I hate that word.”
“Then don’t make me say it again,” Firebird flicked the card back at him. “Should a problem within my family arise, we won’t require an outsider to take care of it.”
“You don’t know that.”
Firebird looked Dean straight in the eyes and said, “Goodbye, DeeDee.”
Dean’s bottom lip stuck out even more in a childish pout. “That’s not very nice of you.”
“You wouldn’t like me if I was nice,” she reminded him.
Dean shrugged and his emotions changed again, this time to amused interest. “You know me too well, Birdie.”
“DeeDee, that is exactly what I’m afraid of.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Dean flipped the business card between his fingers while he watched the dark Blaze Villa. It was unfortunate that Firebird had flat out denied his offer. Helping such a devoted family destroy each other would have been the most fun he’d had in ages.
Still, perhaps this was better, he decided. His plan would have been interesting, but short lived and then he would have had to seek out another form of entertainment. Atlas had been a cutthroat mover and shaker that had appealed to Dean’s business interests but not his personal ones, but Firebird had just shown a distinctly strong backbone that had intrigued him. She could pan out into something more interesting with a couple nudges in the right direction.
Yes, he decided as he pulled his lighter out and lit the card on fire, he wouldn’t kill off the Blaze Family right now. If there was one thing that Dean liked more than a fun time, it was potential, and a mafia family with a little girl at the helm positively reeked of it. Dean threw the burning business card into the dry dead bushes lining the house opposite the Blaze Villa then walked on.
At the very least, he’d planted enough seeds to keep the next few weeks here in New Palermo mildly amusing.
Title: Planting the Seed
Prompts: Red Currant #5: dry spell, Mango #13: calling for backup + hot fudge
Rating: PG13 for conniving assholery from everybody
Characters: Dean “DeeDee” Decarlo, Draven Blaze, Firebird Blaze
Summary: One week after Atlas’ death. I might slap a chopped nuts on this later when I’m not so enamored with DeeDee, but for now I take perverse pleasure in the idea that he’s the catalyst for all of the family drama that ensues post-Atlas death. He’s just that kind of crazy. I have way too much fun writing Firebird and Dean verbally spar; he’s the first one I’ve written that can keep up with her! XD
“Congratulations, Draven.”
Draven jerked away from the man that appeared right at his back and whispered into his ear. “What the fuck are you doing here, Decarlo?”
Dean motioned to the graveyard that people were leaving en masse now that the funeral was over. “Paying my respects to Atlas, of course. He was a good friend. Though I must say I’m disappointed in him for going out in such a dull way.”
“He didn’t exactly choose to get shot down,” Draven grumbled.
“There’s always a choice,” Dean corrected, then waved his hand, “But that’s neither here nor there. The past is the past and I’m much more interested in the future. Now that Atlas is dead, you’re the big man on campus. How does it feel, Boss-man?”
“Go fuck yourself, Decarlo,” Draven snapped. “You know full well Firebird is the new boss.”
“And you’re actually going to go along with that?” Dean tsked. “Say it isn’t so.”
“Atlas trained Firebird to be his heir.” Draven’s irritation with that statement rang thru loud and clear.
“Birdie is a tasty little bit, but is she really fit to lead your family? Young, inexperienced, and a female to boot,” Dean ticked off all of Firebird’s flaws. “I can only imagine the hits to your family’s reputation.”
“My family is none of your business.”
“No, your family is my pleasure.” Dean pulled out a business card with a number on it. “But, should you be interested, I wouldn’t mind making it my business as well.”
Draven took the card and stared at it. “Why are you talking to me now? You’ve never given me the time of day before.”
“I never paid much attention to you because Atlas was so much more interesting,” Dean said, grinning when Draven’s jaw clenched. “But he’s worm food now, and I need a new playmate.”
Dean clapped Draven’s shoulder and leaned in in what other people would see as a friendly consolation. Dean whispered in Draven’s ear, “But you’ve still got some growing to do before you can play with the big boys. Fortunately, there’s never been a more fertile time for you than now.”
Dean slipped the card in Draven’s suit coat, then patted the older man on the cheek and winked. “Give me a call.”
- - - - - - - - - -
When they were at home, Paul didn’t stay attached to her side because of the excess security and the simple fact that if they spent every second of every day together they would kill each other. Still, Firebird was well aware that heightened security didn’t necessarily mean she was safe. Case in point: Dean Decarlo had gotten past all of her security while she was in the shower and was now lounging in her bed. This was why she kept a gun in the bathroom.
“I don’t remember inviting you into my bed,” Firebird said. She wasn’t inclined to stop pointing her gun at him, and he wasn’t inclined to care.
Dean burrowed further into the multitude of pillows against the headboard. “You’re a bit young to be so forgetful, Birdie.”
“You’re a bit old to be hitting on me.”
“And yet here we both are.” Dean rolled so he was lying across the bed on his stomach with his chin in his hands. He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Wanna make out?”
“No, Dean.” Firebird lowered her weapon with a sigh. “I don’t want to make out with you. What do you want?”
Dean’s smile slipped. “Dean,” he repeated with consternation. “You’re being frightfully dull, Birdie. What’s the problem?”
Firebird gave Dean a pointed look. “Oh, right. Dead daddy and all that jazz,” he said in a bored voice.
“My apologies for being so predictable.”
Dean motioned with his fingers at her silk robe and wet hair. “Tell me you weren’t doing something so tedious as crying in the shower.”
Firebird rolled her eyes and sat down at her vanity to brush out her hair. “Now you’re just being insulting.”
“What’s this?” Dean stood from the bed and leaned against the vanity table so he could see her expression. He was too close to her but Firebird wasn’t willing to give up any tactical ground by pulling away to a more comfortable distance. “No tears for the man that created you? Raised you? Loved you? That’s surprisingly heartless of you. Or could it be because you have other matters to take care of first?”
“Are you referring to anything specific, or are you just trying to cause trouble.”
“I’m wounded, really,” Dean said, placing a hand over his heart to show where she had caused him pain. “I’ve only your best interests in mind.”
“You don’t fool me,” Firebird stated baldly. “My interests are only on your mind when they coincide with your interests.”
“Guilty,” Dean sang. “But this does happen to be one of those situations. Your interests are my interests, and they’re all very interesting.”
“You’re interested in taking out the Lafayettes?” Firebird asked, not pausing in brushing out her wet hair.
“Don’t play coy,” Dean said. “That’s my schtick.”
“If you’re not referring to what I’m about to do to the Lafayette’s, then I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
“Oh please. Like a silly mafia war could hold my attention. And you don’t have to imagine what I’m referring to, dear little bird, because the problems in your family are already a reality.”
“Oh?” was all Firebird said.
“Yes ‘oh’. Daddy dearest died too soon, and now you’ve got a power struggle on your hands.”
“There’s no struggle. I’m the new boss. End of story.”
“One man’s ending is another man’s beginning.” Dean pulled out a business card and set it on the vanity. “I offer my services in convincing any errant uncles how finished the story really is.”
Firebird didn’t even look at the business card before saying, “No.”
Dean pouted, “I hate that word.”
“Then don’t make me say it again,” Firebird flicked the card back at him. “Should a problem within my family arise, we won’t require an outsider to take care of it.”
“You don’t know that.”
Firebird looked Dean straight in the eyes and said, “Goodbye, DeeDee.”
Dean’s bottom lip stuck out even more in a childish pout. “That’s not very nice of you.”
“You wouldn’t like me if I was nice,” she reminded him.
Dean shrugged and his emotions changed again, this time to amused interest. “You know me too well, Birdie.”
“DeeDee, that is exactly what I’m afraid of.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Dean flipped the business card between his fingers while he watched the dark Blaze Villa. It was unfortunate that Firebird had flat out denied his offer. Helping such a devoted family destroy each other would have been the most fun he’d had in ages.
Still, perhaps this was better, he decided. His plan would have been interesting, but short lived and then he would have had to seek out another form of entertainment. Atlas had been a cutthroat mover and shaker that had appealed to Dean’s business interests but not his personal ones, but Firebird had just shown a distinctly strong backbone that had intrigued him. She could pan out into something more interesting with a couple nudges in the right direction.
Yes, he decided as he pulled his lighter out and lit the card on fire, he wouldn’t kill off the Blaze Family right now. If there was one thing that Dean liked more than a fun time, it was potential, and a mafia family with a little girl at the helm positively reeked of it. Dean threw the burning business card into the dry dead bushes lining the house opposite the Blaze Villa then walked on.
At the very least, he’d planted enough seeds to keep the next few weeks here in New Palermo mildly amusing.