TENSLEY SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING. He should have known that something would go wrong when all the cards seemed to be in his favor, but in his excitement, he hadn't given a second thought when he started home, having to take multiple stops because the guy he was taking home—Hal, he was pretty sure—kept kissing him to the point where they had to stop for fear of falling. All he thought about was that both Vinnie and Harley were out of the apartment and that he hadn't brought someone home ever since his neighbor had chased away the cute girl who giggled at all his jokes while he was still in the middle of making her breakfast. 

So, despite his track record, Tensley hadn't seen this coming.

"Wait, let me get my key," he breathed, pulling away from the older man just long enough to get his key out from his jacket, only for it to fall out of his hand immediately.

"Oh my God," the man scoffed, helping Tensley who had dissolved into a myriad of giggles, "You're not even drunk, this is ridiculous. What happened to the guy with the card tricks?"

Tensley smirked when he heard the door unlock, rising to his feet. With a flourish, he the condom he had hidden snapped up into his empty hand, and his smirk widened into a grin when his guest stared at him, slack-jawed, but he wasn't able to gloat for long, what with the older man kissing him heatedly, pushing them both into his empty apartment.

Or, rather, his supposedly empty apartment.

They had just started towards the couch when the lights turned on, a throat clearing a moment later, the two jumping apart immediately, Tensley lunging for something to use as a weapon, heart fluttering faster than a hummingbird. 

Before he could do something drastic, his eyes landed on the intruder, and he didn't relax so much as he stopped fearing for his life, the tension draining immediately, rendering him exhausted in more ways than one, falling onto the couch with a groan. The unwanted guest smirked at him from the kitchen, jerking his head towards the other man who looked ready to pass out.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize he would be here," Tensley began, pushing himself back onto his feet, "He's my uncle."

"Uh, no, it's fine," the man spluttered, gesturing towards the door, "I think I'm just gonna call a cab or something. I'll see you around, I guess? Sorry."

Tensley opened his mouth to respond, walking towards the door, but the older man gave him an apologetic look that let him know that, even if they did see each other around, his abrupt leave wasn't just a raincheck, and all Tensley could do was watch as the man disappeared behind his now closed door.

"He seemed nice."

Tensley whirled around, pointing a finger at the man who was currently drinking all of his apple juice. "Couldn't you have waited until morning? Left a voicemail or something? What if my brothers were here?"

"But they weren't, that's why we showed up. How were we supposed to know you were trying to get laid," another voice called, a man as equally large and intimidating as the first stepping out from the hall, cradling one of Tensley's cats in his arms.

"Lieutenant Mouse, I'm disappointed in you," he said, narrowing his eyes at his cat who was shamelessly purring in the arms of the large man, "Did you even try to keep them back?"

"Quit talking to your cat and listen so we can get out of your hair," the first man called, and Tensley sighed, moving to sit on the couch, his cat jumping out of the second man's arms to join him.

It had taken some time for Tensley to stop fearing for his life every time he so much as breathed in the general vicinity of the Giraldi cousins, but after learning that Marcello—the man stealing his apple juice—played chess with sad teens and elderly at the park, and Frank—the man still trying to steal his cat—volunteered at a no-kill shelter and helped rehabilitate mistreated pitbulls, he couldn't stay terrified of them forever.

Granted, he still feared the consequences if he ever slipped up, but he figured they wouldn't do anything if he didn't deserve it, and he was nothing if not careful; then again, things didn't always go his way, so maybe he did have reason to be afraid.

"A truck's coming in Monday morning and we need you to steal some of the goods. If you can get us all of them we'll pay you more, but some is better than none," Marcello said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded photo of the side of a truck with a logo he doesn't recognize, an address and time scrawled on the back.

"Are they just gonna leave the truck there? And how big are the stuff you want me to get?" he asked, knowing better than to actually ask what exactly he was stealing.

The past few times he had been tasked with stealing back already stolen artifacts from museums and personal collections, the Giraldi's explaining that their client was going to return them back to where they rightfully belong, and while he was somewhat suspicious of the validity, he had heard people talking about how the museum's newest exhibits were ruined because their main attractions had been whisked back to their rightful owners.

He was used to jobs involving smaller items, the kinds that could fit into a duffel bag that he could run with if necessary, breaking into buildings in the middle of the night, only having to worry about the underpaid security staff patrolling.

Intercepting a truck was a completely different animal, but any pushback he had died as soon as Frank set a bag on the coffee table, opening it to reveal wads of cash piled inside, Tensley's stomach lurching at the sight; he didn't know how much there actually was, but this was more than usual, and he couldn't help but think that there could be enough left over to add to Vinnie's college fund.

"A third up front, as per usual," Frank declared, and Tensley was too busy reeling from the news that what he was being given was only a third of the total to be bothered by how smug the man sounded.

"And there's even more if you get us everything," Marcello added, sharing a knowing look with his cousin, but Tensley was too busy thinking about how much Harley was paying for his own classes to acknowledge that they were mocking him.

He didn't have enough money to be prideful, and no matter how many intrusive thoughts kept him awake, hissing all the cruelties in the world, he would never turn down an opportunity to provide for his brothers, even if that meant groveling to smug men who could buy his entire existence three times over without a second thought of how much money they were losing, if they ever bothered to check.

"If you can give me a way to get you everything, I'll do what I can," he said, staring at the photograph, as if staring long enough would give him some insight to what exactly was inside; what was worth all the money.

A voice in the back of his mind wondered why they were asking him.

"If you can get control of the truck, we'll get some of our people to take it from there," Marcello explained, sharing a look with his cousin that Tensley couldn't decipher, "We'll drop off some stuff and a bag that you can use if you can't get all of them. We want to make sure you get as much as you can."

"I can do that," he said, looking at the two men earnestly, "I swear, you know I'm good for it. Perfect track record."

"That's why we came to you," Frank said, though his attention was immediately drawn to the hallway where another one of the cats appeared, eyeing the man suspiciously, "C'mere, kitty."

"Stay strong, Sergeant Whiskers," Tensley called, getting the cat's attention, "Mouse caved way too easily. Gotta scope out the scene first, make sure they're trustworthy."

Tensley liked to think Sergeant Whiskers took his words to heart, watching as his cat cautiously approached Frank's outstretched hand, smelling him carefully. He didn't seem to be afraid, but he didn't let himself be pet, instead rushing to take his own spot next to Tensley, swatting at his sibling for a moment before settling down.

"So," Marcello called, giving a pointed look to Frank, who was still trying to call the cats back, "The money's yours, use it however you need. We'll drop off everything else tomorrow. You know how to contact us if you need anything."

"Yeah, definitely, thank you so much," Tensley breathed, always flustered when conversations ended, and still unsure of how to thank the men for the jobs, "I'll-I'll make sure you get your stuff, and I'll be there early Monday."

"Don't let us down, Ellis," Frank said, Tensley trying not to react too poorly to the use of his last name, "I don't care what you gotta do or how long it takes. Get us our shit."

"I will," Tensley called, already used to the man's usual parting words, "Have a good night!"

He rushed to lock the door after the men, sighing heavily and slumping against the doorframe, looking towards the couch where, now, all three of his cats were perched, watching him carefully, the newcomer looking ready to bolt should anyone so much as breathe.

"Sorry, Dr. Dog," he said, moving to pet his most skittish cat, "I didn't expect them here either. And now I've got nothing to do tonight."

He puffed up his cheeks before blowing out air, grabbing the remote control and turning on the small TV, glancing over towards the fridge where he knew he had leftover pizza, then to the backpack full of cash on his coffee table.

He rose to his feet with a soft sigh, zipping up the backpack with little remorse. "Pizza it is."

º º º

"How is this only a third, what're they making you do, kill somebody?"

Tensley groaned, rubbing his eyes as he woke up, nearly falling off his bed when Vinnie shifted, both of his brothers taking up most of the space on his already small bed. He tried to glare, but neither brother paid him any mind, both too focused on counting the cash inside the backpack that Tensley hadn't hidden well enough.

"Seriously, what is it that you do?" Vinnie asked, and Tensley didn't like the way his younger brother's eyes shone, the way he looked at him like one of the action heroes in the movies he always snuck in to see, "Are you part of the mob?"

"No, I'm not part of the mob," Tensley sighed, though he had to wonder how much of that was true; he didn't know if the Giraldi's were involved with the mob, but since he wasn't aware of any mob dealings, he figured it was safe to say he wasn't part of the mob.

"Are you gonna kill someone, though, I mean, this is two-thirds of what they gave you the last time they had you do something, this is insane," Harley said, eyes filled with thinly veiled concern; he was just as afraid of the situation as Tensley was, but neither of them could say that it wasn't great pay.

"No, I'm not killing anyone, it's nothing," Tensley replied, not even bothering to stop his brothers from counting the cash; someone had to do it. "Now stop asking questions, you know I can't tell you anything. You shouldn't even be seeing this."

He gestured wildly to the money, his shoulders aching from how tense he was, feeling the beginnings of a headache pulsing dully at his temples. He stumbled to his feet to get water, nearly tripping over his cats who all rushed to greet him, meowing loudly.

"Did you feed them?" he called, giving a disapproving look to the three cats when his brothers shouted back in affirmation, "I know you guys want more food, but we have to watch your diet, we can't afford more than the yearly check ups, and there's three of you. I'd give up my kidney to pay for your medical bills, but that doesn't mean it won't screw us over in the long run."

He poured himself some water, bending down to pet the three cats who were rubbing against his leg, no longer asking for food, and he really liked to think that they understood him; even if they didn't understand the words, he was sure they could sense the stress radiating off of him from just the sheer prospect of any of them getting sick.

He started back towards his room, rubbing his face before glancing over towards the clock, though he hardly registered the time. He didn't work on Sundays unless he really needed to, and Sundays were historically poor turn out days in terms of his park performances, so he decided to allocate himself a day to rest before he started the next brutal week.

"Don't you have any homework or something you can do?" he asked, shoving Vinnie to make some room for himself, even though they were all on his bed, thanks much.

"It's summer, dumbass," Vinnie said, shoving his oldest brother back, though Harley stopped them before their roughhousing could escalate, "Why don't you go out? Have a social life or something."

"I haven't had a social life since high school," Tensley scoffed, fighting the urge to shove his youngest brother again, "Honestly, I'm perfectly happy with my life as a recluse."

As if to support his claim, Sergeant Whiskers jumped up onto the bed, climbing into his lap and settling into his usual spot, resting his head on Tensley's knee, purring when the man in question started petting him.

"Then let's watch TV," Harley suggested, already rising to his feet, "It's better than just staring at the wall."

"I wasn't gonna do that," he scoffed, passing the cat over to Vinnie so he could bring his blanket and pillow out to the couch with him, Vinnie rushing to his own room to do the same, Sergeant Whiskers unceremoniously dumped into Harley's lap.

After they gathered their blanket, pillows, and snacks, the brothers settled on their well-worn couch, Harley switching to a specific channel right in the middle of a show Tensley didn't know much about, but had heard enough from his brothers to get the picture.

It was a nice, lazy day, the brothers talking over each other as they commented on what they were watching, shushing each other in the same breath, with Harley having to take up his role as middle child, placing himself between his two brothers since Tensley always loved pillow fights and Vinnie was hellbent on pushing his eldest brother off the deep end.

"Will you stop!" he screeched, batting away Vinnie's attempts to poke him, "What are you, four?"

Any response he would have gotten from either of his brothers was interrupted by a firm knock on the front door. They all held their breaths, glancing at each other as they listened, hearing footsteps start to walk away, fading back into a tense silence.

"I'll look," Tensley said, his stomach turning, "Maybe it's they stuff they said they would drop off."

"Who?" Vinnie asked, but Harley merely shushed him, moving so neither of them could be seen from the doorway, Tensley waiting for them to hide before unlocking the door.

With a shuddering breath, his shaking hands pulled the door back ever so slightly, peering through the small crack to find no one there. Opening the door further, he glanced down, only somewhat surprised to find a much larger duffel bag waiting for him. 

Grabbing the strap, he slung the bag over his shoulder, closing and locking the door immediately after. He glanced towards his brothers who were eyeing the bag with open interest, so he decided not to retreat to his room, instead setting the duffel bag down on the couch, trying not to let his hands shake as he reached for the zipper.

"Could you guys step back? Just in case," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, and neither brother fought him, doing what they were told, though still craning their necks to see inside. 

Holding his breath, Tensley unzipped the bag, eyes widening when he caught sight of what was inside. There wasn't much, which he had guessed from the second he had picked up the bag, surprised at its lightness, but for all it lacked in weight it made up for content.

There were gloves and a mask, something he was used to whenever he worked one of these jobs. There was an assortment of zip-ties in a plastic bag, as well as rope, a crowbar, and a lock picking kit; he had lost his during his last job, so this replacement was more than overdue. While he tried not to think of the implications that a crowbar, rope, and zip-ties had, the real shock came in the form of the last item. 

He didn't know what it was at first, trying to see if there was a note left with the items, but to no avail. It was only when he held it up towards his brothers that they all realized what he had been given.

"Why did they give you a taser, I thought you said you don't hurt people?" Vinnie asked, stopping himself as he reached out to try and take the weapon, wanting a closer look, "And I thought they only give you the mask and gloves and stuff."

Tensley was too wrapped up in his thoughts to point out that Vinnie knew way more than he should. "I don't know what I'm getting, but it seems pretty important."

"You don't get that kind of money as an advance if it wasn't important," Harley pointed out, and Tensley wished his younger brother didn't look as concerned as he did, "Maybe you will have to hurt someone. They wouldn't give that to you if they didn't think you'd need to."

Tensley didn't respond, instead just placing everything back into the duffel, frowning at the taser. He had no intention of using it, but if worst came to worst, he would much rather have something more than his quick thinking to protect him.

"How 'bout you guys order pizza, I have to prep for tomorrow," he said, trying to smile, though it came out more like a grimace, "Just keep watching, I'll be right there."

He started towards his room, relaxing minutely when he heard Harley pick up the landline, asking Vinnie what he wanted to get, and he focused on the sounds of his brothers' voices to drown out the steady stream of panic-filled thoughts buzzing in his mind.

He sat down on his bed, sighing so heavily he was sure he would fall over, but even then his chest felt too tight, and he tried to breathe the way Charlotte taught him, trying to remember what she told him to do if he ever got too overwhelmed. 

It took him some time to remember that it was to count objects in the room, and he didn't know how long he had spent doing so, but he did know that he had been counting all the articles of clothing in his room when he caught sight of his discarded leather jacket, remembering what was inside.

Before he knew it, he was reaching into the inside pocket, pulling out the two decks of cards. He set Charlotte's cards on his desk, turning his attention to the new deck. He opened it carefully, not wanting to crease the pristine box, though he was surprised to find that the box wasn't made out of cardboard, but something sturdier.

It seemed that the box was a glimpse of what was inside, Tensley sliding out the deck of cards, shocked at how thick and sturdy they were, yet when he went to shuffle them they bent easily, and no matter how long he curved them, they always returned to the same, straight form.

He didn't know how long he had spent admiring the cards, falling into his usual habit of shuffling his cards and doing various tricks for no reason other than that he could, his mind gloriously free of any and all thoughts, giving him a short reprieve from the constant noise and panic.

He was in the middle of a more simple card trick, flicking the card from his sleeve into his free hand, when the doorbell rang, startling him, the card hurtling out of his hand, shooting straight until it embedded itself into the wall with a sharp thud.

"You good?" Harley called, the smell of pizza keeping Tensley grounded.

"Yeah, I'm good," he called, walking towards the wall, reaching out towards the card, pausing before he pulled it out.

He knew about card throwing, of course, Charlotte had taken him to a shop for a demonstration, and he had been enthralled with how a plain deck of cards, in the right hands, were strong enough to pierce duct tape, embedded into the mat the instructor had set up along the wall.

He had tried it at first, of course, but even though he had been able to land a few of his cards into the mat, he had come to realize that, no matter what, his cards were going to be worse for wear after every throw, and the thrill wasn't worth buying a new deck every two weeks because his were too scuffed up to perform with; his usual deck was worn, but cared for, and the slightest crease could raise the eyebrows of even the most good-natured participant, so he figured it would be in his best interest to keep his cards safe and his card throwing behind.

But now there he was, pulling out the silver card with the intricate patterns, unable to believe his eyes as he took in the shallow impression in the wall, then the corner of the card that had that had created it, not a single crease or tear to be found.

Grabbing the box, he shoved the cards back inside, looking around until he found his own personal deck. He took a moment to put Charlotte's deck amongst his folded clothes for safekeeping, opening the duffel bag and dropping the two decks inside, on top of the taser.

Better safe than sorry.

"Ten! Hurry up before we eat your slices!" Vinnie called, breaking him out of his reverie, and he called out that he would be right there.

He rose to his feet, pausing just before he passed through the doorway, glancing back towards the bag, imagining the two decks of cards covering all the other items, standing out amongst the dark and somber items, seemingly innocent, yet just as dangerous.

He shook his head, closing the door behind him as he made his way over to the dining room, making a point to avoid any and all conversation about the duffel bag, instead picking a fight with Vinnie to take their minds off it all. After all, if things went well, it would all be done in the morning. 

Tensley should have seen it coming.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 03.05.21 )

I'm honestly proud of myself with the three thing, like at first you see the three when Ten gets into the apartment, then when his date leaves the other guy shows up, the three cats, then the three brothers, etc. etc. Idk it's silly but I'm proud.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!