Making Time (m)

[Tarkus]

So, yay, I have now completed a trade!

I have been at a creativre block recently regarding my Got stufff and decided to give my brains something else to write about. Like sneezy gangsters... Thus, a Goodfellas fic was born! It's nice returning to the contemporary crime genre. Although there is NO WAY I gave the characters the justice they deserve (no pun intended ), I feel like I wirte criminals better? I dunno. Oh well

Since I can't seem to figure out the picture posting system, I'll just say that Jimmy Conway is played by a 40 or so Robert Deniro. Henry is played by a young Ray Liotta.

This is for you, Meg! Thanks for giving me something fun and fetishy to occupy my brain with!

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“Richie, for chrissakes, give the man his money.” The younger man sighed, rubbing a hand between the bridge of his nose.

“No, Henry, I’m not gonna do it this time. Jimmy said he’d sell the cigarettes at ten bucks a carton. I agreed to that. That’s the way it’s always been. Now, it’s-it’s twenty bucks?!” Richie looked around the store, hoping for a customer to come in, some kind of witness. Not one person was on the street either. “I’m bustin my own balls here, Henry. People don’t wanna buy cigarettes twenty a carton. That’s bullshit. They know it, I know it. What’s goin on here? It’s always been ten.”

“Inflation’s a bitch, Richie. It hits us all right here.” Henry said, tapping the exterior of his wallet. “You gotta pay like everybody else. Now give the man his money.”

“Give the man his money,” Richie repeated, “Where the hell is “the man”, Henry? Jimmy ain’t even here. What’s a man who ain’t even here gonna do to me?” He clucked under his tongue. “Hell, what’s a man who don’t even come to collect his debts in person?”

A pair of hands snaked around his neck before he even felt the pressure. They were the hands of a person who had done this sort of thing before and didn‘t particularly mind doing it again. “Don’t go talking like that, Richie.” Henry’s voice was soft, but clear. “Don’t think that just cause Jimmy ain’t here don’t mean you’re not paying. You see, Richie, cause I owe Jimmy a favor. And if you keep talkin like that I might just have to tell Jimmy what you said.” His breath flicked across his ear, like a serpent’s forked tongue. And then the pressure was gone.

“Now, Richie, if I gotta ask again, I won’t be so gentle.” The fat Italian nodded, rushing once to the back of the store, and returning with two handfuls of cash, panting heavily. In the blink of an eye, the money had vanished from his hand with nothing more than a rustle of Henry’s tailored suit. A tortoiseshell comb appeared thereafter and Henry ran it quickly through his styled, brown hair. “Nice doin business with you, Richie. See ya next month.”

A “fuck you” followed Henry out as he crossed the street. He ducked between the alleyway of a bank and another store before walking across a deserted parking lot. Deserted, but for one white Cadillac, looking incongruous given the general poverty of the area. If that car didn’t belong to Jimmy Conway, it would’ve been stripped of everything but the paint by now.

Henry smiled as he crossed the lot, taking out a wad of cash and thrusting it into the sky, waving the crisp bills against the blue sky. “Hey, Jimmy, got your money. That means you owe me a favor now.” The younger man winked playfully, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Christ, Jimmy, you look worse than when I picked you up this morning.”

The “fuck off” that followed was uttered in a croak far too pitiful to be considered legitimately threatening, despite the fact it was spoken by Jimmy Fucking Conway. No wonder Jimmy sent him in instead. The man looked like shit.

“You look like shit.” He added, vocalizing his previous thought. “Why didn’t you just stay home? I mean, a wise guy like you can probably take a sick day now and then.”

“The fuck I can.” The older man sighed, rubbing a hand beneath his nose. “What’s it gonna look like, a guy like me, callin in sick? Bein a gangster ain’t about what the nine to fivers do.” A sniffle punctuated this sentence. “People who work that kinda job, they call in sick. Wise guys don’t even get sick, Henry.”

“Uh-huh. Wise guys don’t get sick. Got it.” A smile slid slowly across his face as Jimmy’s nose wrinkled at the bridge, signaling an impending sneeze. “Yea, Jimmy why don’t you tell me about how great you feel right now?”

“Fuckin fine, th-that’s how I…huuuh” His breath hitched, bringing him dangerously close to a sneeze, continuing his sentence regardless. “That’s how I feel.” The rest he finished in a rush, before a set of harsh sneezes overtook him.

“Heh-ISSSH! ISSSHT! ISSHT! Huuh-IKCSH!” The sneezes resonated within the Cadillac. Jimmy’s sunglasses jarred with each sneeze, nearly knocking them into his lap. Henry drew his hand up to cover a laugh. It worked until Jimmy snapped out the handkerchief in his left pocket, trying to blow his nose quietly, but failing.

“Oh yea? You think it’s so fuckin funny bein sick? C’mere you little bastard.” Still choking with laughter, Henry all but fell out of the car as Jimmy began unfastening his seatbelt.

“No, Jimmy, Jimmy, I’m sorry, alright.” He placed his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders, pressing him back into the seat. “I didn’t mean nothing by it. I was just breaking your balls a little, okay. We okay?” Henry nodded, waiting for a reaction. When nothing happened, he continued. “How about I take you home? You don’t feel well, I’m bein an asshole, and Richie was the last guy due today. So let’s just go.”

“Fine.” And that was all he said for the entire ride home.

“We’re here. You need anything? Coffee…soup? Oh, how about some of those Danishes from Otto’s? You always like those.” Henry continued talking even after he got out of the car and opened the passenger door.

“Told ya, Henry, I’m fine.” Jimmy slid out, walking briskly past the other man as he walked towards the door. He made it all of five steps before swaying suddenly to the right.

“Jimmy!” Surprising himself, Henry used an amount of speed he didn’t know he had to rush forward and snake an arm around his friend‘s waist. “Shit, Jimmy, why didn’t you tell me you were this fuckin sick.” He hissed, all but hauling his friend up the front steps.

“Not si-hiihh…eh-ngGSST! Hep-CSHH!”

“Ah, fuck!” Henry cried, glaring at the wet spot on the front of his suit. “Now I gotta get this fuckin thing dry-cleaned on top of everything else! You better be glad you’re this delirious or you‘d be footin the bill!” Shaking his head, he began fishing through Jimmy’s pockets. “Now, where the hell are your keys…?”

“Henry, I’m gonna be sick.” This sentence was spoken as if he was saying the sun was hot or the sky was blue: with undeniable certainty.

“Found em‘! Oh shit…” As soon as the keys were in his hand, Jimmy curled off to the side, coughing violently.

“You stay there, Jimmy. I’m gonna open the door and get you fixed up, alright? Alright, good.” Henry was speaking more to himself than Jimmy at this point. Uncertainty was not something Henry Hill had ever cared for. Everything had a place in the plan and in his line of work, if you were ever uncertain about anything, you may as well consider yourself in jail already. Jimmy getting sick was not part of any plan of his.

As soon as he turned the key in the lock, Henry propped the door open and backtracked to where Jimmy was rising shakily against the frame of the garage. “Can you walk? I mean, I’ll carry your ass in if I have to…”

“Heh-ECHSHT! TSCKSH’ue!” Jimmy rocked forward and shooed away Henry’s hands as they reached out to steady him. After a thorough blow into his handkerchief, he continued.

“Not necessary.” He gave another soft, wet sniffle. “I’m a big boy, Henry, I can take it from here.” A shudder ran through the older man’s body. Henry’s decision had already been made, but this only reinforced it.

“Nope.” He shook his head, “I’m gonna get you inside, get you set up. Then, I’ll go.”

“Don’t you got somewhere you gotta be? Knowing you, you don’t have time to hang around with me, anyhow.” He swiped the handkerchief quickly beneath his nose, the fabric doing little to hinder the set of sneezes that followed.

“Eht-ISHKT! Hhh-TSSCH’UE! Heh-Nkggsh! Huuuh…” He shook his head, nostrils flaring. “Fucking ridiculous. That’s how I…” He trailed off again, before tilting his head back and releasing a final, unrestrained “ESSHAH!” onto the pavement below.

“Bless you, Jimmy.” He roped his arm around Jimmy‘s broad shoulders. “I’ll make time. I always make time for a wise guy.”

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Aaaaand, that's all folks Hope ya'll enjoyed, especially you Meg!

Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

Edited September 1, 2012 by catmuffinz

[VividBubbles!]

I don't even know this fandom but I am so loving this. This was just, just awesome. Truly and completely awesome. And I know that you said that you're done with this but I would love you forever and ever and ever and probably be your slave for eternity if you continued this and there was contagion. Omg, I love this so much. Please?

bye.

Edited September 2, 2012 by VividBubbles!

[Invisibles]

Oh. My. GOODNESS. :drool: This is.... Nnnhh. <3 Perfect! Thank you so much!

I've started work on your half, it should be up soon. ^^

And also can I just say that omfg you write them so perfectly and augh Jimmy... I would cuddle him so hard fkjbndfjsvnkdf

[Lexi]

OMG OMG OMG I LOVED IT. I absolutely love gansters, especially mobsters, pleeeeaaaase continue!

[ZXY12]

I love when people sneeze in the middle of explaining how perfectly fine they are XD nice job