wroetostar one-shots

assassin au pt 7

lmao hey! bet you thought you'd seen the last of me ;) to be honest, i thought that too. well, i wasn't actually thinking about this account; i stopped watching the sidemen for a while, around a year, but recently my love for them (and wroetostar by extension) has been revived, so here i am again!

i know they don't sound much like their irl counterparts, so sorry about that, i'm not british enough to nail that voice lol. also i apologise for the exposition dump that is this chapter. hope you enjoy anyway <3 stay healthy and safe my loves xx

word count: 2353 words

it was like one of those walked-into-a-pub jokes. an assassin, his mark-turned-lover, and a dead body were gathered around the living room.

vik pursed his lips and amended that statement - two assassins and a dead body. because there was a knife gripped in harry's hand that he had used to kill a man mere minutes ago, the blood calmly wiped away, the metal gleaming harshly silver in the light, and that was not a very civilian thing to do.

"so," vik said, holding his own cleaned knife and eying harry's stance. it was loose, his toned limbs relaxed. the other man was sprawled across the couch in a deceptively casual position, legs propped up, head against the armrest. his whitened knuckles and the tightness around his eyes were the only things giving him away. 

vik was sat in an armchair across from him, stiff and tense. he couldn't help but stare at harry's arms and body, reminiscing about when those arms had been looped around his shoulders, that body pressed against his own.

he remembered that night. the planes of harry's chest, the softness of his dirty blond locks, the gasping noise he made when vik threaded his fingers into his hair and pulled. it seemed like so long ago. he could not reconcile that precious moment with the man before him.

"so," harry echoed. his jaw was clenched. "who is it, then? the pauls? faze? or some other little start-up operation?"

"what do you mean?"

harry sighed, powder blue eyes rolling back. "who are you with, victor?" he paused. "wait, is your name even victor?"

vik felt a hot flush rise on his cheeks, and he averted his gaze. "nearly, but no," he admitted. "my name is vikram, but everyone calls me vik."

"a polite lie," harry said, lips twisted into a small smirk. "you must be a newbie, huh?"

"excuse me?"

"keeping your fake name so close to your real one," he went on, shrugging. "just shows how experienced you are on this sort of scene. which is to say, not at all."

"i just helped you kill a guy," vik pointed out.

harry huffed. "fair," he grumbled.

vik hated how he still found everything about harry horribly intoxicating. the guy was mad at him, and his heart still swooped when his voice dropped an octave, the rumble echoing in his chest. he wanted to cuddle up next to him like they had been before and turn back time so that the dead body still cooling on the ground beside them was never there.

"the sidemen," vik said in answer to harry's question. "that's who i'm with."

"the sidemen," harry repeated, lips pursed in thought. "that name sounds awfully familiar..."

suddenly, he shot up from his seat, eyes brightening. "the nightmare!"

vik's brows furrowed. "you had a nightmare about the sidemen?"

"what? of course not!" harry stared at him, bottom lip sticking out slightly. vik felt his heart skip a beat. "the nightmare. i used to work with the guy."