#cuphead: brightly-popping red & dark grey & yellow

[djevelbl]

AAAAA I KNOW I'M LATE but. BUT

what if i offer: dumb doodle comic?

I need to read the wiki more often, I DIDN'T KNOW it was his birthday :(((

BUT i gave him cake 🙏🙏

[zaraegis]

Come at the King|Part 5| T

Fandom: Cuphead

Pairings: Ride or Die QPP Wheezy & Dice

TW: haha, violence, descriptions of injuries, past unhealthy alcoholism, Threats of violence, Comedic Misunderstandings, Dice threatening to stab his new Boss Satan, Satan being Into It.

Notes: It’s me so it’s gotta have hints of DevilDice.

Prev|Next| First

/Casino Grand Finale

Pirouetta wears a deadly looking dress a brilliant gold with matching ballet flats. When it flairs open as she twirls it straightens out to a dangerously sharp edge and the roulette design spits out white spheres that make Dice wince if clipped with one, they're so heavy.

The first twirl across the arena she makes almost has Dice getting acquainted with the razor edge as he tries to duck left or right only to have her whip out her long legs and corral him back in her path.

Every move she makes is incredibly graceful and even more deadly, and some part of Dice admires the skill enviously. Dice's Card Sharps deck chip away minimal amounts of her gleaming armored dress, and his smoke bombs would be useless if she can reach him no matter what.

It's during one of the falling spheres that he makes the mistake of looking up to check there are none right above him when she launches into another pirouette early and catches him off-guard.

She twirls once, twice and by the time Dice thinks to look back at her she's gathered enough speed that the foot that catches him right in the chest throws him clear across the arena.

The spice of Wheezy's smoke reaches him as he tries to expand his diaphragm to inhale some air. The binder isn't helping. The lack of air starts off a small timer in the back of his mind, but he's used to ignoring that too. He pushes off the wall into a tumble that gives him some space.

Pirouetta's foot crashes into the space he was at mere seconds ago. It breaks the floor in an alarming manner. He's momentarily blinded by the spasm of pain in his chest, the lack of oxygen in his system and the smell of a panicking, smoking Wheezy.

Calm. Stay calm. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He's breathing carefully but freely and as she starts spinning towards him again, Dice clenches his teeth in a smile. He hops forward and seems to turn around but instead he twirls his body into itself and disappears.

Pirouetta blinks and casts her gaze about, quickly.

He shoots up behind her, those dangerous sharp edged cards between his fingers. Dice starts peppering the ground with them, in zig zags, in lines, in random patterns that only he seems to track. Always disappearing when she gets anywhere near him.

It seems like a distraction tactic, until the first time she missteps and nearly cuts her toes off on the card embedded halfway in the ground.

She hops back and begins to spin in place, lifting her hurt foot to make him keep his distance. He pops back in from the ground out of her lunging range and has the cheek to wink at her before he slaps his hands together and pulls them apart to an ominously glowing pink die.

She has enough time to think: Oh no, not the smoke bomb- before the arena and her sight is completely obscured.

She's pinned.

Pirouetta has to slow down and in that couple of second before she can start another pirouette, she feels a hard impact against the back of her knees and when they crumple forward, an arm curls dangerously around her throat and pulls her down.

She smiles and closes her eyes, even before she can feel the sharp edge of an ace against her unprotected throat.

"I win."

Another arm cradles her back so she's doesn't even hit the ground. He really is a fine gentleman.

-

He might have alarmed some of the spectators when he started smoking, Wheezy thought, eying the large space given to him as he tries to slow down his heart rate. The back of his throat burns with flames as he sees Dice all but crumple against the wall.

Shit. The binder.

He's up seconds later of course, but that could mean anything from bruised ribs to a collapsed lung knowing Dice's pain tolerance.

The crowd goes wild at his little disappearing stunt. All Wheezy can feel is slightly sick with worry. He doesn't get clipped again, though sometimes it was cutting it close.

And then Wheezy understands what he's doing. Cutting the twirling dancer off at the knees. Metaphorically speaking.

When Pirouetta almost slices her foot off on one of those cards, Wheezy thinks maybe it wasn't as metaphorical as he thought. And then the smoke die comes out. He heaves a sigh and slumps against the table in relief.

A Dice you couldn't track was one that always won. Always.

"You're lookin' pretty fired up their chief." Rasps a voice next to him and Wheezy freezes his muscles so he doesn't jump in fright. The Devil waggles an unlit cigar at him and he pushes the panicky fire into his hands to light it for him.

It sits uneasily with him that when everyone hears Pirouetta's yield, all the Devil does is smile even wider.

He does huff a laugh at the position their in when the smoke clears. Like two dancers, if one ignored the way a sharp edge rested against Pirouetta's throat in a gentle threat. The crowd goes wild.

King Dice always entertained.

-

If Wheezy was a ruder- or braver- person, he'd bodily pick up Dice right after the Devil did his whole "crowning the king of games" schtick and haul him to the nearest doctor to get his ribs checked out.

Even when there's an honest to goodness crown involved in the proceedings, King Dice does nothing but bemusedly put it on his head and nod at the cheering crowd.

He doesn't bow. Wheezy puffs a nervous breath, it comes out thick and grey. He's burning up and he hasn't even lit himself yet. Dice wouldn't bow if his ribs were paining him right?

And then finally all that pomp and circumstance are over with, the crowd chatting and excited about seeing a crowning, can you believe it-

Dice is heading straight for him, brows furrowed and shoulders unnaturally stiff. It looks like nerves, but he's seen Dice nervous. Right before he reaches him, a dark furred arm reaches around Dice's shoulders and stops him cold. Wheezy wastes no time in going to Dice instead, stepping in just as the Devil was brightly explaining something.

"-you got your chance King. Now I have a bit of a job offer for you. Feel free to think it over, but remember who holds your soul now, ey?"

Dice is smiling tightly and looking to the side like the fresco on the far wall was the most fascinating thing he's ever come across.

Wheezy can feel his eyelid twitch.

"WHAT did he just say Dice?"

Flames lick out of his mouth and drip to the floor, setting the marble aflame. He stomps it out without looking away from a sweating Dice.

"I may have forgotten to mention a few things Whee...ze." The odd hitch in his breath heads off Wheezy's rage. That doesn't sound good at all. He turns to a highly entertained looking Devil. Smiles through the raging hellfire his mouth's become and says, as polite as you please:

"Will you excuse us for a small bit?"

He grabs Dice by the shoulders and carefully steers him towards the men's restrooms. He pays no attention to the frowning Casino owner they leave behind.

-

"I can't believe you! If you had a neck I'd be wringing it right now!"

"Hey you're going to rip my suit, Wheeze. And you hate violence."

"Damn, the suit Dicey. And between you selling your soul and violence, GUESS WHICH ONE I HATE MORE."

There was a weak cough before- "Shit my jacket. Dammit!"

"I'm going to rip this off of you I swear-" Panicking, Wheezy scrunches the fabric of Dice's vest and shirt and undershirt in two handfuls, pretty sure he can't even feel Dice breathing anymore.

Out of nowhere a clawed grey hand grips his in a painful hold. Forcing him to let go of Dice or deal with a broken wrist.

The Devil shows up in the gleaming brightness of the Casino's bathroom. He's frowning something fierce and is looking between a stunned Dice and Wheezy.

"This better not be what it looks like fellas."

That poison yellow gaze lands on him as he says this and Wheezy suddenly realizes, incredulously, that he thinks Wheezy was taking permissions. He almost laughs in an ugly panic. He hasn't felt Dice breathe out for a solid two minutes now.

Dice makes a weird squeaky noise that calls their attention back to him and flips the knife suddenly in his hand around and rather angrily cuts through all of the layers he's wearing and the binder underneath all that.

His ribs are a horrid black and purple, evidence of Pirouetta's kick, lined with an ugly vivid red line where the binder dug into his skin.

Wheezy swears, and goes to prop up a near hyperventilating Dice. He grabs his friend's stupid six sided face and catches those bleary green eyes.

"Calm. Stay calm. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Y'good Dicey? C'mon man, breath!"

Dice does, coughing and wincing with every jolt to his ribs. Wheezy puts his hand over his chest, afraid to do more than lightly feel for any obvious breaks. They need to ice it quick.

Dice mumbles something and Wheezy rolls his eyes, already knowing what's coming.

"I can't believe you made me ruin my fucking suit, Wheezy. I'm going to destroy you." He lists to the side even as he makes his threats. Wheezy would shake him if he wasn't so out of it right now.

"No binder. For a long while. It might be as long as it takes you to explain to me what you were thinking when you sold your soul, without telling me."

Dice groans and burrows his face in Wheezy's jacket, maybe to stop being half naked in the presence of the Devil, but more likely to try to muffle the sound of Wheezy berating him.

The older man realizes their third party was suspiciously quiet and looked up to see him turned away to give Dice some privacy. He shrugged off his jacket and covered Dice with it before clearing his throat.

Dice toed the remainder of his fine suit sadly, clearly delirious with pain to be pouting like a child. Wheezy was left holding him up with one hand and covering his face with the other as the Devil turned and raised a pointed brow at them.

How embarrassing. He might never be able to look the Devil in the eye again.

"Well..." the Devil starts, at a loss, looking between the man he's trying to make his new manager and the man he thought was some controlling boyfriend he'd have to deal with.

"Well."

That summed it up pretty well.

-

While Dice lies prone on the sofa with cold towels on his chest and doing breathing exercises, Wheezy upends the entirety of the medicinal salts Pirouetta gifted Dice into the steaming hot tub.

He shucks off his clothes and takes a quick shower before wrapping a towel around his hips and going out to the sitting room to haul a suspiciously quiet Dice into the hot tub.

The salts sting at his eyes and it scorches his skin in frankly worrying ways, but Dice slumps in relief, so there must be some numbing agent in it. They sit in the hot tub in silence for a while, Wheezy absently hoping the staff won't get mad he took a towel into the tub.

He's not made for this fancy-shmancy shit.

But Dice seems to be settling in well.

Dice won't be coming into work with him anymore.

The Devil himself offered him a job at this very Casino. He might not want Dice to have to commute so far. Wheezy might have to actually get used to sleeping in his own house again.

The thought makes him long for the blurry haze scotch gives him.

A spray of bubbles hit his face and makes him sputter in surprise. Dice had been busy spraying all the different ornate bubble bath soaps into the tub and swirling them into a thick layer of foam.

"You're thinking bad thoughts." Dice quietly reminds him. He thins his lips and tries to focus on the heavy smell of roses to banish away the need for a drink.

He blows all his air out in an exasperated sigh and can't summon up the panic and anger from earlier. He just looks at Dice and says: "Your soul? Really?"

Dice shrugs jerkily, probably forgetting his bruised ribs, the blockhead. He's playing with the foam like he's never seen it before. He probably hasn't.

"You know how I -uh. Quit my job? Back when we first met." he starts, not looking up. That wasn't what Wheezy remembers but Dice was even more vague and ominous back then. He nods.

Dice looks up, "That job...isn't something someone retires from. Not really. You're either in, or you're dead."

Welp. That confirmed all of Wheezy's worst fears.

"It's been ten years though, and no one's tried anything, so maybe they're-" Dice makes a high amused sound. Wheezy scowls at him.

Clearing his throat, Dice throws out a casual, "I was very good at what I did, Wheezy."

That. That's actually horrifying to think about. How many times had Dice almost been taken out without Wheezy knowing about it?

"So...you sold your soul to get them off your back?"

"Hm. No one bothers to go after those with a contract. They're protected by-" Dice pointedly looks down. Ah yes. The Devil did make a good deterrent for anyone coming after Dice he supposed.

How positively...devious.

Of course, Dice thought of it.

"...and maybe, I wanted to retire. For good." Dice murmurs quietly. Wheezy lazily swirls the bubbles and steaming water as Dice gathers his thoughts.

"Some people could do it you know," Dice continues a while later,"Do what I do and then come home, wash off the blood and kiss their children goodnight. Sleep. Wake up. Repeat. I-"

He stops and scoots across the ridiculously huge hot tub to him and pokes at the old faded scar on his ribs from when he was a younger idiot in love with a gal who didn't mention the gang leader girlfriend.

Dice took his keys and came back with bruised knuckles and smelling like blood. Barely 18 and could already go toe to toe with twenty or so adults who had access to guns and no qualms against using it. Very good at what he did, indeed.

He was lucky he wasn't shot and left to die in a gutter somewhere, Wheezy knows. Dice probably knew it then too. He still isn't sure if the rumors of the Dockside Delinquents deciding to move overnight to a new island to harass were true or not.

But there was something strange about Dice the next day. Like he wasn't really there. Warm food and drink helped. So did the impromptu cooking lessons. If that's how he felt after just one night, Wheezy doesn't want to think about how Dice dealt with it before they met.

Like deciding to get a fake ID and get drunk in a strange bar before robbing a bunch of no-good drunks blind in poker wearing only a purple dress with a goddamn machete strapped to his leg.

Actually, he has a pretty good idea of how Dice coped with it before he stopped.

"I wore the white suit for a reason you know." Dice settles down at his side, so both of them are looking at the opposite wall, instead of having to face the other. "I promised myself I'd prove my title without any blood. Black hides the blood better, yeah?"

Despite all his violent talk at times, Dice hasn't sent anyone to the doctor's in a long while. No more beating up hapless suckers in an alley at 2 in the morning after work. No more leaving at night and coming back with a bloodied coat.

He's really made something of himself, his Dice.

He carefully gives his friend a one armed hug at that. "Shit, you're becoming an almost upstanding citizen now Dicey."

"Me? You've been manager of the bar for two whole years now. And you haven't had a hangover in five." Dice splashed him. Ugh, compliments. Sincere compliments. King Dice played a dirty game. Wheezy crammed a handful of bubbles into his stupid face.

-

"So you're gonna take the job?" Wheezy asked, carefully putting some numbing cream on Dice's chest. They've built up pillows on both sides of him to minimize the chance of him turning over in his sleep. He shrugs and winces at the strain. Idiot.

"Probably. Depends on the terms. And the position. If he wants a thug I'm outta here before he can say the M word."

Wheezy snorted, "And you're sure it's not your thing about winning?"

"I do not have a thing about winning. Shut up."

"Someone is better than you at darts and you nearly bite my hand and then break a bar chair trying to show them up."

"NOPE. I DON'T REMEMBER THAT AT ALL." He's almost shouting over Wheezy's chuckles.

"Anyone has to mention a challenge and you have to be the one to win it. Face it." He screws the lid to the ointment and wipes his hands on a towel. "You have a thing about winning."

He doesn't take the wet towel thrown at him personally because Dice totally has a thing about winning.

/The Devil's Terms

"Hm." Dice frowns down at the contract. It's surprisingly fair. Or so nefarious he can't even begin to suspect a plot against him. "This assistant manager clause. I have free reign over who I choose?"

"Yep. It's to keep you free to keep a personal eye on the casino floor. "

The Devil is counting money, and it either brings him great joy or his default expression is smiling because he hasn't stopped since Dice came in to discuss the job offer this morning.

Either way, Dice can respect someone with sharper teeth than his. And their determination to flash them at every possible hour of the day.

"To keep an eye out for trouble? Or to make sure that the casino makes more money than it's losing?" The Devil guffaws, and notes something down on a ledger before facing him.

"Both. It's my casino, but there's still people that won't let that stop them from causing trouble. I don't got all the time in the day to deal with them personally. It'll be your job to to keep it down over there and make sure the property damage is minimal."

Dice's hooded eyes meet his before he asks, calmly as you please,"Do you want them alive and breathing?"

"If you can, they are customers after all. Can't take their money if they're dead." The Devil mused. Dice nodded sharply.

"Of course. Please keep in mind that you've hired me on as a manager and not a mercenary of some sort."

"Is that a clause you want in your contract?" Dice could already tell the Devil sounded amused a great deal of the time. It was kind of irritating to be honest.

"Please."

The words- his words appeared at the bottom in a new clause. "Hired on as a manager, NOT as a mercenary of some sort." Hilarious. He had a funny sense of humor for the root of all evil.

Dice signed.

"I'll give you two weeks to get your stuff and get settled in. Pirouletta will show you the ropes. I'm going to make a wild assumption and say you're going to con your friend into signing on assistant manager as well ey?"

Dice barely nods before a second fresh scroll appeared next him. This was going to be a Thing wasn't it?

"Have him sign that. Tell him he can keep his soul and everything."

King Dice quirks a smile at that.

"If that's everything?" Amused and annoyed. His new boss is a fount of varying emotions. Dice stands to go but stops and faces those strange yellow eyes.

"Thank you, for yesterday. In the bathroom."

The Devil leans on one hand and deadpans, "You mean for coming to the wrong conclusion, physically threatening your friend and seeing you starkers?"

Dice idly wonders if a knife to the throat would do anything to the Devil. Probably not.

"No. Your appearance reminded me I had knives at my disposal." The Devil flicks his gaze down to Dice's resting hand. He'd never be able to spot his knives, but it was a cute attempt.

"Speaking of which."

He starts collecting the spare contract, "The next time you lay a hand on Wheezy with the intent to hurt him, will be the last time you have hands." He smiles brightly at the amused look on that dark face.

"See you in two weeks, Boss."

-

Wheezy looks up from the contract with a strange look on his face. Dice is carefully folding his precious suits back into his luggage. He's in some simple slacks and a loose button down that won't irritate his bandages.

"Dice..."

"Hmm?" Dice says distractedly, counting his packets of cards.

"Is this how much you'll be making as well?"

"Well, yeah." Dice answers, "A bit more but yeah."

There's a quiet. Dice frowns up at Wheezy to see what's the matter now.

He's got that thinking face on. It's not the sad one that drives him to drink too much, so Dice leaves him be.

They're almost ready when Wheezy finally finishes percolating and snags his sleeve as Dice is making his way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Hey, remember that surgery you said you'd never be able to afford?"

Dice looks blankly down at him, not being able to recall ever needing a visit to a surgeon. Then he glances down at the still tender skin of his chest.

Oh.

OH!

"OH!" He breathes out. Not having to remember to take it off every day? Hell yes.

Wheezy huffs out a laugh. "We can go see the doc back home to check things out first. Maybe then I won't have to worry about you forgetting to take it off and end up in another bathroom with the Devil."

Dice sighs. He's never gonna let this go is he.

Wheezy signs.