Yeeeah Marco had NO reply to the return of his own mocking words. His face flushed bright red, and he just sort of…averted his gaze entirely, focusing really hard on his own hands in his lap. He’d almost said something like, ‘I’ll get it fixed’ but that was the equivalent of saying Demos could fix it with his own damned money, since it was all the same thing…

Marco was way, waay glad it was Demos’ car too, flushing even brighter red at Domino’s words and again, staring at his hands like they held the meaning of life within them. He didn’t doubt Domino’s ability to snap his head off in the least….oh god…just thinking about that was making him even more sick…he was going to take his license and just like, burn it. At this moment he way wished never to be anywhere near a car he was operating again.

He hadn’t realized the truck had stopped until Domino got out and groaned, head snapping up and replying rather dumbly. “Shovel?” Like duh, what did he think they were doing? Gonna magically poof the body away. He looked a bit frazzled for a moment, very much not in possession of a shovel, and somehow he doubted Demos had one in his pocket.

“I could uh…go find one…somewhere…” He sort of trailed off lamely, no idea where they were even, so where the hell he’d bust a shovel from he had not clue, he just really, reeeally wanted to help here somehow.

Demos pulled the sun shield down, peering into the mirror and wiping more blood off of his face. It was hard not to cringe at how bad he looked. He'd lost so much he was starting to feel lightheaded.

"I'll check in the back, there should be a snow shovel or something in there."

He slid out of the car and looked back behind them, making sure they were quite alone. His hands rubbed together, trying to fight off the chill of the night air. He was about to give Domino back his handkerchief when he remembered it was completely soaked in blood. He'd maybe give it back after he'd washed it half a dozen times.

"As much as I preach teamwork and unity.." He opened the truck's back doors, climbing up to find the handle of a flimsy snow shovel. He tossed it down to his younger cousin, still looking rather annoyed. "This one's all yours, Marco."

"He's doing the dirty work? Okay, benissimo, I'll be in the truck." Domino waved a dismissive hand at Marco, not so much because he was mad at him as to completely get out of having to do the digging. Usually due to his rather obvious size and muscle advantage, he ended up being the one doing the digging and if there was one thing he hated more than being forced to be unlazy, it was cold weather.

"Fuck it's cold." he whined as he hopped easily back into the drivers seat and shut the door, however, Marco wasn't going to get off that easy.

Despite his utter loathing of the cold, he rolled down the window so he could berate from afar. That was brotherly love alright.

"Hurry up, I want to get a burger or something before we turn in." Because being covered in brains and blood had no effect on his appetite.

Marco caught the shovel awkwardly, staring at it for a moment like he’d never seen a damned shovel before, and really, this was his first intimate moment with one and all, so that was to be expected to some extent. His gaze flickered up to Demos, for a split second weighing the fact that he’d never so much as dug in a sandbox before, but thought better of it, making his way over to where he was obviously supposed to be making a hole.

Ok…he stared at the ground, then the shovel…then the ground again…then sort of got the shovel into position- like he’d seen on TV- diggy part down and sort of stepped on the thing…with little to no effect…the ground was really hard…

He cast a sort of bewildered look back at Dom, for both the food comment- which made him feel sort of ill all over again- and his own utter lack of digging skills, though he didn’t beg for help or anything. Bad time to be even more useless then necessary, so he went back to trying to make shovel work. Who’d have thought the simple principle of ‘scoop ground up’ could be so elusive!

He started sort of…wriggling the thing around as he pushed with one foot, and finally got the ground to part, sinking the thing in a few inches and getting a chunk to pop free. Yeeeeah, if Dom was looking for some quick hole digging here, he was gonna need to go hire himself some construction workers or something.

Demos leaned against the truck, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. His fingers were still stained red, but there wasn't exactly much he could do about it at the moment. Flicking open his lighter, he inhaled deeply. He pulled it from his mouth with two fingers, breathing out a smooth cloud of smoke.

"Jesus Christ."

He tried not to feel bad for Marco, but that didn't take too much work. He'd fucked up his car after mocking his instructions. He could dig all fucking night for that. It was easier to feel bad for himself and Dom for having to sit out in the cold like this, since Marco seemed to enjoy taking his dear sweet time.

"By the time you're done digging that hole you're going to have to dig two more because we'll be dead, too."

Dominic couldn't agree more. The cold was downright piercing and even with the door closed and his body bundled he was sure his ass was going to freeze to the driver's seat, Lord knew any protection his ass might have had had been squished out by the dead man's massively fat one. Speaking of fat...

"Shit, that is one ugly dead man." He commented mostly to Demos as he stole a glance at the dead body, which in ironic thanks to the cold had yet to begin to smell.

"Demos, the last guy we had to bury, did he look that fucked up or did we not shoot him in the face?" Somehow this conversation couldn't possibly be helping Marco dig.

"Hey, can I have one of those?" he asked Demos referring to his cigarettes, as if he hadn't just started up a conversation about the degree of bloodiness of a dead body.

Yeah Marco was appreciating the cold all up close and personal, teeth beginning to chatter as he managed the arduous task of getting another little mound of dirt out of the ground. Oh my shit that made like, five. He huffed a bit at Demos’ jibing, but again, not about to get sassy after, you know, smashing his car into a wall!

Domino’s words though, were making digging a whole lot harder, his stomach sort of rolling as the imagery of very gross no face man came swimming back to haunt his eyes. It certainly didn’t help he had a lot of no face man on his shirt currently…oh god…he sort of paled at that thought again…he took a shaky breath, biting his lower lip and trying to focus really hard on how fun it was to dig a fucking hole with a shovel that didn’t seem to want to actually dig, rather then on Dom’s words, not nearly the stomach for any of the gory stuff like his cousins had.

Today…today sort of sucked really hardcore…and he was pretty sure he was going to be sick, because he couldn’t stop looking down at his own shirt, and he suddenly felt really hot. In Dom’s defense, that was probably only half the gross talks fault, the other half his other little problem. Whatever it was though, another shovelful of earth, and he was sort of dropping the shovel and stumbling back a few paces, at least the presence of mind not to do it in his awesome would-be hole, and then promptly keeled over and started retching into the icy grass. Bet everyone wanted to take him on their next big job right?

Demos passed Dominic his cigarette through the window, keeping his eyes on Marco. As angry as he was, he couldn't help but feel bad for him. He was only 19 years old, after all. Couldn't even legally drink, and here he was burying a corpse. He stepped carefully through the dirt and grass, kneeling next to his cousin to hold back the shaggy bits of hair that were in his eyes.

"You're all right, come on."

He rubbed his back a little, trying to calm him down without being a complete mother about it. Taking one of his own handkerchiefs, he wiped quickly at Marco's mouth.

Dominic hoisted himself up and leaned out the window to get a better look at Marco, feeling guilty now that the poor thing was retching due at least in part to his tasteful conversation topic. Pissed as he was, at heart he was an utter softy for family.

"He okay?" He inquired from the truck, reluctantly opening to door to step back out into the cold with the cigarette precariously balanced in the corner of his mouth.

He watched Demos comfort him for minute, feeling more guilty by the second and progressively more worried. Marco...well now that he was really looking at him it occurred to him that he didn't look so good, of course he had no idea that this was due to anything more than a weak stomach.

Heaving a sigh, he ran his fingers through his curls, messing them up as he slid his hand down to the base of his neck in silent thought.

"Get him in the truck." He said at last, sounding tired and oddly older than he really was.

"I'll finish this, but I expect dinner on you tonight, Marco." Without another word, he lifted up the shovel and began to dig with was appeared to be little effort at all. Damn him for making it look easy, though actually he was inwardly wondering who the hell designed a shovel for snow. Fuck that, that's what staying inside was for.

Demos was being a total mom, but Marco really appreciated it at the moment, because he felt like utter shit, and his stomach was way unsettled…and he really, really needed to get this shirt off…

For a long moment he just did as told and took a few deep breaths, a slight flush on cheeks to have Demos babying him there with the handkerchief, like he was a fucking five year old, which he totally felt like at the moment. God, only he would screw this up SO thoroughly, then go and lose his lunch over it. Fabulous.

He finally batted Demos’ hanky away feebly, forcing a weak smile as he got back to his feet unsteadily, gaze shifting to Domino as he spoke. His eyebrows raised in surprise at the offer. He was about to protest, since he really should be doing the dirty work since this was all his bad times a million, but then his stomach rolled again, and he thought better of voicing that objection, catching Demos shoulder for stability instead.

“Like enough dinner to get you full? ‘Cause I don’t think I have that much money…on me or in savings…” He replied weakly, trying to be light about all of this, though he felt more then just horrible both physically and for causing such a mess. He was seriously never going to be able to look either of them in the face again…especially Demos…God, he just hoped it looked like he was grossed out from the fact that he was covered in someone’s head-juice, rather then…that other thing…it wasn’t that other thing really, just the head juice…oh god he needed to stop thinking the phrase head-juice!

Demos ushered him back over to the truck, watching Dominic start to shovel considerably faster. He was sort of glad this had happened. Though Marco needed to learn his lesson, at least they wouldn't be standing out in the cold until the world ended. The talk of dinner made his stomach feel tight. Some strong, hot coffee sounded really nice at the moment, but they couldn't exactly wander into a diner covered in dirt and blood. Pulling a silver flask from his pocket, he unscrewed the cap to drink. It might help warm him up, at least.

Dominic spared Marco a look of pity over his shoulder but he didn't quit digging for a second. Due to his bitter dislike for the cold, he dug much faster than he might have otherwise bothered. His hate for the weather far outweighed his laziness.

"I'll settle on half full if I get coffee and desert." His tone was a little flat, but the fact that he was willing to tease at all was a good sign, for Marco at least.

It didn't take him long to get a sizable hole going, amazing what he could do when he actually put effort into something. However, a loud snap made him bounce a step back.

"Ah, I think that'll have to do?" He called back to Demos as he stepped forward to peer into the hole. Stooping down, he lifted up a shattered piece of shovel.

Yes Marco had most definitely learned the awesome lesson of ‘do not drop your gun or reach over like a retard and scramble around for it behind the drivers seat.’ He would so never be doing that again!

Marco settled in the truck at Demos’ coaxing, the door held open against his legs- if Dom had to freeze he would too; the least he could do. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as he watched Domino dig. The returned teasing got a weak, relieved smile, glad at least Dom wasn’t totally, horribly disgusted and upset with him, which he damned well had every right to be.

“Sure thing.” He returned, hand absently going for the pack of smokes he kept in his shirt pocket, though he was dropping it with a little grossed out noise a second later when he realized they were totally slick with blood. Ung…not putting those anywhere near his mouth. Thank god Dom’s scary strength there snapped his attention back up and to the broken shovel, relieved this was all coming to a close as he slid from the truck again, assuming he’d have to help get the body in there and looking all sorts of pale about it but ready to help.

Demos watched them dump the body into the hole, wishing to himself that it were a little deeper, but not enough to actually do anything about it. No one ever came out here anyway. As the dirt was kicked back over, he got back up into the truck, slipping the flask back into his jacket.

"All right, let's get out of here. They were expecting us at the warehouse hours ago."

"Pity we couldn't have delivered that body with the furniture." Dominic commented as he climbed back into the driver's seat, cupping his hands about his mouth and breathing on them to try to get some feeling back into his icy fingers. He utterly ignored the dried blood. Not even the scent so close to his nose bothered him, not anymore anyway.

"Pick out a nice leather couch for my mother, would one of you?" He asked while firing up the engine. "I've no taste for that kind of thing but she'd kill us if we didn't save her one."

He pulled back out smoothly, careful to check for anyone who might be watching before making his move. The ride wasn't too far, thank God, by now he was so hungry his stomach was protesting loud enough to be heard.

"Now when we get there we're going to try that whole 'leaving you in the car' thing again. Do you think you can handle it a second time around or do we have to strap you to the seat?" He was only half teasing.

Marco had been huddled there, trying to likewise get his hands warm enough to be felt, though not nearly iron stomached as Dom about it, so he couldn’t even almost bring his hands near his face. Instead he was rubbing them together furiously, though at that comment he’d opened his mouth to snap something mocking in reply…and then abruptly shut it again. Yeeeah, not exactly enough time had passed to, like, contradict any of that, teasing or not.

“I won’t touch anything. Won’t move. Won’t even undo my seatbelt.” He promised resolutely, folding his arms tightly across his chest and so not teasing anyone about the little kid tone he was getting this time around. Yeah, he suspected he’d be getting that tone for a while for all this bullshit. Joy.

"Good."

The family owned their own small building by the northern docks, making for a long drive around the city. As they finally pulled up in the front, Demos slid out of the truck and straightened his collar.

"All right Marco, we need to go inside and put in the door password. It should only take a minute."

He sighed, obviously tired from the long night as he flipped through a ring of keys to find the right one.

"Come on, Dom."

Pushing the door open, he led them both down the long corridor of storage units. Someone must have left the light on.

Dominic moved to get out of the driver seat, but mid motion he paused and looked back at Marco with a look of thought on his brow.

"Do you have your gun? Can never be too careful." He took the silence as a 'no.'

Slipping a hand into his jacket, he revealed one of his two guns from his double holsters. He flipped it in his hand and caught it again by the barrel, handing it over so Marco could grab the handle. Mad and distrustful as he might have been, he wasn't about to leave his baby cousin unarmed. He'd never forgive himself if something happened.

"Be careful with her, I'll be wanting her back." He warned with a weak smile as he stepped out and closed the door behind him to follow Demos down the corridor.

"God, I hope this doesn't take long." Dominic grumbled as he broke out of his catch up jog.

"For my stomach and his nerves."

Marco took the gun gratefully, glad Domino hadn’t asked why he was walking around unarmed when he knew they were going to be doing deviant shit. He did not want to reveal the little fact that he’d done something so fucking unsly as drop his gun, hence the entire car incident. He’d rather they just thought he totally retardedly somehow set the car in motion with his magical dumb. That was much more preferable then adding the ineptness of gun dropping to the equation.

“Thanks Dom.” He replied weakly, then just…sat there like a good boy, true to his word too. He wasn’t moving damn it. Wasn’t taking his seat belt off. He just sat still, holding Dom’s gun carefully in hand and waited for his cousins to return.

Demos knit his eyebrows as he stopped by the cracked open door, peering in as he pushed it open. The guys that were supposed to be there a few hours ago were gone, but they'd left everything on. The small, black and white screen on the desk that monitored the dock was nothing but static. He frowned a little, ready to be pissed as hell at them in the morning. Something, however, didn't feel right. Though he wouldn't have been surprised if they drunkenly left the place without shutting down, the air had a strange kind of stillness to it. His body moved more slowly without thinking about it, eyes darting around the room as they stepped into the large warehouse. His gaze trailed over to the button panel that would open the door, unable to help but reach for the gun in his suit.

His hand froze before it could even touch the handle as there was a click. A gun cocked at his back, digging into the dip of his spine.

This day just kept getting better.

/end of part II