This wasn't his kind of scene.

The loud music thumped throughout the room, the jeering of a couple hundred people shouting out their bets as the two men fought each other in the central ring in the dingy basement of an even shadier pub.

It was dark, the only sources of illumination came from bright neon lights all around and flickering fluorescent lamps on the ceiling.

The sound bones cracking underneath a fist causes Tinsley to cringe as the crowd screams either out of excitement or disappointment. The detective avoids the ring room to an opening to a low lit bar.

But it was his.

In the south side of the city was an area known as Death Valley, a breeding ground of crime and vices. Hell was empty and all the devils were here, infesting the streets with illegal activity that causes the average citizen to shudder.

No one batted an eye at murder here in Death Valley, the lowest class, the dirt underneath the upperclassmen shiny boots.

No one cared much at Death Valley.

The address on the serviette let to a dingy bar called The Queen Mary, a tiny establishment with a backdoor that leads to an illegal betting pool.

If Tinsley were still a cop, he would've have shut this place down.

But he wasn't and he had a meeting with the devil tonight.

So he took a deep breath and continued his walk through the crowd.

It was a stark difference from their first meeting at a high-class gala

Instead of mingling graceful politicians swirling one another, this was a dance of criminals and grit, electricity and anger heavy in the air.

Concrete walls splattered in dark liquids replaced luxury beige wallpaper, loud electric guitar riffs replaced soft violin concertos, rage replaced privilege.

This place was infested and Tinsley knew he was looking for Goldsworth in the right place.

The bar isn't any less gritty than the betting pool but it sure isn't as dark. The patrons are seated in small groups, the stools mostly filled, a group of men watching over the entire establishment like predators.

And among them, the handsome devil in black, the same as he last saw him, smirking into the rim of a clear glass of liquid gold.

Tinsley trips over himself, catching the stares of a few strangers, his heart in his throat as the ache in his lungs burns into an irresistible need to have Ryan back in his arms, the nostalgia of all the fondness he held for the criminal plaguing his tired vessel.

He's the same as Tinsley's remembered him, as godlike and ethereal as the last time he's seen the other man. The strong jaw he loved cupping before pressing lingering kisses on lips he's grown addicted to. The gentle slope of the other man's shoulders Tinsley has rested his arms on countless times. The sharp gaze of russet eyes that melted his legs to slush.

For so long he's felt hollow and the sight Goldsworth had stricken a match and set aflame all of his dull feelings.

His eyes search desperately for the familiar tan skin and dark hair, as handsome as ever in the darkest basements, through gaps of the mingling crowd.

There was a strange way how Goldsworth managed to fit among the crowds of the upperclassmen and looked like he belonged among the city's lowest dirt all at once.

A prince among snakes that hide and snakes that strike with pride.

An angel among the vice and virtues.

Lucifer himself.

Despite the humidity of the closed area, Tinsley shivered and walked up to the kingpin himself.

∆

"Hey handsome, are you proportionate in all areas?"

A lady drawled from beside him as he continued his search for the notorious criminal, the sea of bodies blocking his view of the other man as if they were playing hide and seek.

"Uhhh no- no thanks"

"C'mon, live a little"

She slurs, grabbing him by his wrist, a pointed red fingernail tracing his chest, as she fluttered long lashes.

Tinsley rejects her once more, pulling away and searching frantically for Goldsworth, only to find the previously occupied booth empty.

He frowns in disappointment as the lady tenderly grabs his tie.

A strong hand smacks her's away, catching Tinsley's attention.

"Sorry, Norris, he's mine"

Tinsley looks down to a sight of a smirking Goldsworth and the frazzled lady, confident and dangerous.

Tinsley is flustered, ready to beg Goldsworth to give him a minute, stuttering to say something even with his malfunctioning heart, desperate to greet him after so long.

The shorter man interrupts him before he has the chance to open his mouth and looks pointedly to a back exit.

Tinsley gulps and nods.

∆

They went outside.

Tinsley found this a common pattern between them from the very start.

Where ever Goldsworth went, he followed along obediently.

The other man sat on the pavement, his hands flickering on a metal lighter as scruffed as he was.

"Why are you here, Cecil"

It's been years but Tinsley's weak heart still stutters at the way Goldsworth spoke his name, like a prayer falling from his unholy mouth. Or perhaps a curse that has doomed them both.

He wraps the familiarity of the vowels around his damaged soul like a blanket, the lining of his soft words as fond and delicate as he remembered.

"You know why I'm here, Ryan"

The shorter man flinched slightly at the mention of his first name. His gaze was empty as he sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. In that moment, Tinsley had realised he held the weapon to tearing Goldsworth to shreds and the crime lord had given it to him freely. His name was like daggers and Tinsley was ready to cut.

"You've always been smart, but this was a stupid decision"

Tinsley nodded in agreement, shoving his cold hands into his pockets as he kept his stand. He knew it was stupid to look for the devil who had ruined his life and all the morals he had ever held. He didn't care, he was an addict and he grabbed the presence of the other man.

"I gave you a way out, I gave you an exit for you to get rid of me. And yet, you came back like the idiot you are"

Goldsworth spat, the words toxic and cruel. Tinsley guesses he deserves it, he knows what he was getting himself into.

"You wanted me to find you"

"A mistake"

"I needed you"

Tinsley plead. Goldsworth scoffed at that, his eyes nonchalant as he stared up at the fidgeting man despite how he was obviously pleased the criminal was with the answer.

He felt dismissed but he knew Goldsworth missed him.

Or at least he wishes that was the case.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

Tinsley didn't reply. He didn't have to. The heavy silence between them held the answer and they were both afraid to inhale it.

The nicotine leaving the other man's lungs mesmerized Tinsley, the swirls of grey replacing the bitterness in Goldsworth's valves with something much more explainable.

He idly chewed at the end of his cigarette, the little fire at the end scaring Tinsley more than any depths of inferno.

He fears for what happens when the dim red light finally runs out and Ryan extinguishes it under his shoe.

Will he leave too?

∆

Tinsley fidgets, craving a cigarette of his own despite quitting years ago, his nerves ablaze and his heart threatening to leave his chest.

"If you didn't want me coming here why did you leave me that note"

It didn't make sense to him, he desperately searched for the criminal only to be met with insults and threats. The detective was grabbing at any strings to keep Goldsworth here a little longer, just to indulge in his addiction to the other man even more.

Goldsworth sighed, smoke curling out from between his lips like venom.

"You drive me crazy, Tinsley, I'm constantly craving you"

He groaned, squeezing his eyes as Tinsley looked down at him, eyebrows furrowed together. He sat down tentatively by the man's side on the dirty sidewalk, turning his head to the side, watching Goldsworth's misery up close.

It the moonlight, surrounded by a halo of dim pollution clouded stars and muffled by the sound of heavy traffic, Goldsworth looked ethereal and human all at once.

Tinsley isn't sure if he's more enamoured in the more deity version of the man, unattainable and otherworldly, or with the more human of the man, fragile and vulnerable.

He thinks that maybe, perhaps, they were one in the same and he longed for both versions of Goldsworth equally.

The criminals cupped the Tinsley by the jaw and they were finally on the same eye level. Tinsley was mesmerized as Goldsworth finally put out the warm flame that danced warm orange light on his sharp features against the gravel. The younger of the two men leaned in and Tinsley feels like he's melting and drowning all at once.

Goldsworth doesn't take his heavy gaze off his as he whispers against Tinsley's lips.

"God, what have you done to me, Cecil"

And they kissed alone in the dark like it was their first time.

∆

"What is this place?"

"Once city gutter trash, always city gutter trash, Tinsel"

Goldsworth grinned, a sly look into those dark eyes.

"I'm just returning home"

∆

It was the same motel.

Of course it was the same motel, neither of them had to mention the location to each other before Tinsley was telling their driver the memorized address.

The moment they enter the creaking door, Ryan crushed his lips to Tinsley's, smothering and desperate.

It was messy and familiar and filled with unresolved tension after years.

The shorter man was between his long legs, Tinsley wrapping his thighs around Ryan's waist and his ankles hooked behind his back.

Tinsley felt like he was on fire, wherever their skin brushed he felt like he was being burned.

But everything after was slow and gentle, like whatever between them was fragile and about to break any moment, like neither of them could believe the other was real.

Goldsworth kept his lips close to Tinsley's skin, constantly warm and hovering, worshipping and devoted.

His hands constantly touching, constantly chasing contact, like he was memorising every curve that made him. Like Tinsley was the most valuable thing he's ever held.

And in the dark, Cecil Tinsley felt loved.