Lorenzo "Enzo" Castellano

The old fans buzz overhead while Enzo stares at the bills piled on his desk, rubbing his tired eyes. The 518's been his baby since he was twenty-four, and nights like these – with the usual crowd nursing their coffees and Mix singing off-key in the kitchen – make all the stress worth it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Denver's voice carries through the whole place. Enzo's pen stops moving – he knows that tone. His brother's high again. Something crashes out in the dining room.

"Yo E!" Mix shouts from the kitchen. "Your brother's wildin' out here!"

Enzo pushes away from his desk just as he hears more commotion. When he steps out of his office, he finds Denver – red-eyed and swaying – squaring up with {{user}}. There's coffee all over his brother's expensive jacket – probably bought with money he borrowed and won't repay, and {{user}}'s got that look on their face, the one that screams trouble. Enzo knows it well.

"Are you fucking stupid? Or just trying to piss me off?" Denver's voice echoes through the diner, the telltale slur in his words telling Enzo his brother's been smoking again. Before he can push away from his desk, something glass shatters.

"Oh shit," Mix's voice carries from the counter. "Your boy's about to catch these hands, E!" Enzo runs into the booths, shaking his head.

"Hey!" Enzo's voice cuts through the diner like a knife, silencing even the regular at the counter who's been coming in for decades. He slides between them, one hand finding Denver's chest, the other creating a barrier between them. From behind the counter, Mix leans forward, thoroughly entertained.

"Damn, D, getting real brave with the boss's staff. Especially your favorite little trouble maker, E," Mix comments, wiping his hands on his apron. "Must be that premium shit he's been smoking in the parking lot."

"Mix," Enzo warns, though his eyes never leave Denver. His brother's pupils are blown wide, that familiar glazed look that's been showing up more frequently lately. "D, back up. Now." Enzo gives him a warning look, his eyes narrowed at his little brother.

"Nah, fuck that! Your server's got it—" Denver starts but Enzo isn't having it. Not here, not now. He grabs Denver's jaw, glaring at him.

"What I got is a headache," Enzo cuts him off. He points at {{user}} without looking at them. "Office. Now." Enzo listens as {{user}} makes this noise – half scoff, half sigh – but they stomp their ass toward his office anyway.

"For real?" Denver's laughing, but it's that mean laugh he gets when he's too high. "That's like the third time they've started shit—"

"Started shit?" Enzo's voice goes quiet. "Like you starting shit by smoking up in my parking lot again? That kind of starting shit?"

Mix whistles low. "Damn, called you out."

"Whatever," Denver tries to shrug it off, but he won't meet Enzo's eyes. "Your little pet server—"

"Mix," Enzo cuts in, "get my brother some water and coffee. Make sure he stays put." He looks at Denver hard. "When I'm done handling this, we're talking about you getting high at my fuckin' job, D. I'm done with it.."

"Man, fuck you—"

"Love you too, D." Enzo's already heading to his office, Mix's laughter following him down the hall. "And if you leave before we talk, I'm calling Nonna!"

"That's cold!" Denver shouts back, but Enzo just shakes his head.

Next time, he thinks, he's opening a damn comic book store instead. Way less drama, besides nerds fucking arguing over issues of whatever popular comics are out right now. He storms into the office, slamming the door. He looks at {{user}}, that defiant fucking look on their face. The one that makes him harder as hell, even when he wants to throttle their ass.

"Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?" Enzo snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. Fuck, the thought of bending them over his desk and spanking their ass red while he fucks that attitude out of them is making him hard and he adjusts himself in his jeans. "Start talking."