undomesticated animals - short story

[iteatsblood]

Title: Undomesticated Animals

Author: Nihilism

Rating: Mild, angsty.

Summary: Lee doesn't deal with the occurrences of the previous night as well as he would have hoped, and on advice from the local tattoo artist turned psychiatrist, he tries to pick Ruckus' head apart. Part 2 of the Warehouse Series.

Notes: All characters depicted are original. And this was written in dedication to Abi, the sexiest psuedo-boy I've ever met. Feedback is greatly appreciated because original character stories make me nervous as hell. Much longer than the previous part.


It's obvious as soon as Lee steps onto the floor of the third story loft that he's been talking to Duster. If Ruckus really thinks over it, it was obvious even before then. He never would have heard Lee's footsteps on the precarious stairs if Duster hadn't urged Lee to 'just talk to him,' and the fresh ink behind Lee's ears confirms his suspicions. He can almost see his spiked-headed comrade, tattooing the tiny stars there on the tiny kid's scalp and listening to his woes, listening to how mean, evil Ruckus took advantage of him and didn't even give a thought to his feelings. The mental image makes him grin, he's still grinning by the time Lee gathers the nerve to approach him where he's sprawled over the blankets, smoking.

Lee is quite obviously a mess of anxiety; his usual grace gone in favor of halting steps and his thin arms wrapped tight around his bare stomach. He's just looking for an excuse to bolt, and Ruckus isn't about to censor himself just to reassure the boy.

"Got an appointment?," his tone is low, harsh as ever even if he isn't trying to be threatening.

He drags hard on the cigarette in his mouth as Lee freezes at the sound of his voice. Those arms unwrap, moving to let him clasp his hands behind his back when he drops the gaze to the floor. "I...n-no..."

Ruckus gives a dismissive snort, snuffing his cigarette in an empty beer can. "S'arrite, no one does."

He motions the boy closer with a jerk of his head, sliding over on the blanket nest to make room for Lee.

"I ain't gunna bite. Not too hard anyways." Lee looks up at the suggestion, not lifting his head and instead, peering at Ruckus with that damned naive expression, all wide blue eyes and thick black eyelashes and uncertain blinking. Like the damned innocent he is. This kid spelled trouble from the word 'go,' not even his eerie likeness to Mika could call Ruckus off, even if it took him a month and a half to get around to getting what he wanted.

Lee finally reaches the side of the 'bed' and Ruckus lifts a hand, snagging Lee's and kissing it like he's fucking Cinderella before yanking him unceremoniously downwards. "Ya look like ya lost a bet, or ya been talkin' to Duster."

Dropping to the floor heavily, Lee immediately curls his short legs to his chest and encircles them with his arms. He doesn't respond, as Ruckus grabs his chin to tilt his head to one side, inspecting the artwork behind his ears and adds. "Yeh, got it."

Unsurprisingly, Lee finds himself incapable of a response. He rests his chin atop his knees and tries to ignore the threatening way his chest seems to shrink. "I..." He trails off, pointlessly, and tries to get a deep breath. "You wanna line, or somethin?"

Ruckus smirks. If he'd met this kid a couple years ago, he would have liked him even more. But recreational drug use is limited since then, despite how often the little dealer offers. It's not the same, not since Mika. Ruckus shakes his head in response, staring at the boy like he's trying to figure something out. Maybe trying to convince himself he doesn't know why Lee is here.

"Nah, not tonight. Ya can't sleep, can ya?"

"No...Ivan brought some dirty slut home," Lee explains, shaking his head. "They're fucking down there, in plain view of everyone."

Ruckus ignores the way the kid's words are quieter than they should be, the way he seems to be fighting with his lungs to get air. "Ah, dude...guy is bad enough with his pants on."

Lee nods his agreement, and Ruckus shifts to let his arms fall open. It's an obvious invitation but Lee is not in the mood to cuddle, astonishingly.

"In that case ya can sleep here if ya want, I don' care," Ruckus clarifies, trying not to sound too much like a creepy, lecherous pedophile. Even if Lee doesn't seem bothered by his creepy, lecherous personality on a daily basis.

Lee watches Ruckus, debating, for a moment. He reads people well, almost always has. And people can say they don't care when they actually do, and people can say they don't care when they actually don't. Even if Lee has trained himself to subtle nuances between the two, he can't recognize which it is now. Everything was different with Ruckus. He's pretty sure the man does not care. Pulling himself back to his feet, Lee circles the small space, gaze roaming over discarded audio-visual equipment in a bid to keep himself from completely freaking out, though it's a lost cause.

Whether Ruckus is impressed that Lee has not yet bolted down the stairs, or whether he really just doesn't care, he watches the boy with a bit more curiosity. Lighting another cigarette, he waits for Lee to stop near a set of dusty shelves, before calling idly to him. "Leech..."

The only reason Lee responds is because it sounds so much like his actual name. When he glances over his shoulder with an eyebrow arched questioningly, whispering a response so quiet and breathless Ruckus can't hear it, the man nods once. He blows a stream of smoke through his nostrils. "Fits, then. 's a good name for ya." There's a creepy, lecherous grin to back the comment up, though he really doesn't care if 'Leech' catches the innuendo or not.

Lee squints his eyes in confusion and brings his arms up to wrap around his tummy again. The tightening in his chest is taking over enough now that he can no longer pretend to ignore it, and his ears have started ringing. He's cursing himself for coming up here, expecting answers or explanations, even as he drops his chin and curls into a ball against the steel wall of the building. His breath becomes audible in sharp, whining gasps, and he hates the sound of it. Hates the way Ruckus crawls over, feigning concern and trying to talk soothingly to him. When Ruckus realizes those words are having no effect, he picks Leech up carelessly and carries him back to bed, settling him on the floor and curling around his back. He pets at his tummy, uncertain whether he's helping or hindering the anxiety attack.

Lee forces himself to stop breathing altogether, though it only draws more concern from Ruckus. If the panic wasn't bad enough by itself, it's happening in front of Ruckus, and that makes it even worse. He's realized over the course of the last twenty hours or so that Ruckus is even more important to him than he thought. Freaking out like an unhinged psychopath likely would not help his cause.

"C'mon, Leech...breathe in, please breathe in...," the man's voice is hardly audible over the buzzing in Lee's ears. He unwittingly follows the advice, his chest burning enough to make his eyes tear up and forcing him to inhale a deep breath.

"S-sorry..I can't...," he tries to explain, but his words are choppy, breath still too short. He bites down hard on his lip until he feels the soft flesh inside his mouth give, the copper taste of blood finally spurring him into inhaling again. It comes out in a choked exhale almost like a sob, with pain and shame behind it instead of sadness, and he feels Ruckus' rough hand moving over his face gently.

Lee rolls away from the touch and the man giving it, pressing his face to the cool steel of the floor instead. He forces himself to keep the painful gasps coming. They're still too quick and too hard for his liking, and he tries not to think of what brought this on in order to calm down. His vision finally clears enough that he can search out Ruckus' face, requesting in a whisper. "...cigarette?"

Even though Ruckus doubts the helpfulness of a cigarette in this situation, he complies, lighting one and then transferring it to Lee's chapped, blood tinged lips. Lee sucks harshly on the filter, exhaling through his nose without removing it. He closes his eyes and focuses on the methodical motion, like training wheels for breathing, until his breath is finally steady enough that he can remove it from his mouth.

"'m sorry. Didn' mean to freak out," he offers as explanation, and Ruckus sighs, rolling onto his back.

He wishes he hadn't been so maternal about it, he never does that. He hopes it will be the last time. "'s okay, jus kinda...," the man trails off, not even sure what to call it. "Somethin' fuckin' around in yer head, then?"

Lee closes his eyes, taking another calculated drag of smoke like it's a respirator. He nods, though it takes another moment before a verbal response finds its way out. "Why did you even bother...?"

Ruckus isn't completely sure whether Lee is talking about the events of last night, or the attempted assistance tonight, or anything that's happened since the kid showed up here. But either way, the response is the same.

"'cause yer here."

It's relative, the best he can come up with. Lee is here, and Ruckus asked him to be, meaning he cares something for the kid. Lee blinks for the bluntness of it, and his response takes no time, now.

"That's it?" He shakes his head, not sure what he wanted to hear, continuing before Ruckus can ask him. "I been here for a while though, how come ya didn' bother til now?"

Ruckus finally turns his head back to look Leech over, folding his arms. He noticed how attached Lee seemed to be getting, but it never quite jumped out at him like it did last night. Never begged to be acted upon. "Didn' see ya doin any different."

Lee suddenly coughs out a harsh laugh, one that makes Ruckus reanalyze just how smitten the kid is with him. He pushes himself into a sitting position finally, scowling when he blinks at Ruckus before looking up to the high, grime-covered windows. "Well of course you fuckin' didn't."

"Got a motive there, kid?" Ruckus is as unphased as ever by the scowl and the harsh tone.

Lee only scowls harsher for the words, though he can't make himself look back at Ruckus. Instead he snuffs his cigarette and glares at the floor, muttering in undertone. "You never make any fuckin sense."

"I make perfect fuckin' sense, if yer listenin' to hear it," Ruckus counters, but passively, he can tell there's more Leech wants to say. And the boy doesn't hesitate to do just that.

"So what was it?," he asks after a beat. "Someone bet ya you couldn' break me? Ya jus' wanna see if I would give in?"

Lee is ripping strips of dead skin from his lips with his teeth, and even if he isn't looking at Ruckus, Ruckus knows the look in his eyes. It's that same injured blue from last night although Lee tries to cover it with the scowl. His voice is quiet, but strong, and he certainly doesn't seem like the nervous kid who was fighting for breath in his arms a minute ago. But Ruckus doesn't buy into that bullshit act for a second. His suspicions are logical, though not correct. Ruckus is such a scumbag he probably wouldn't put it past himself to engage in some Cruel Intentions-inspired fun. He doesn't dispel the doubts, though, even if that wasn't the case.

"Would I'a made the effort if I didn' see somethin in ya?," he shakes his head, a bitter smile replacing the sick grin. "Duster wouldn've sent ya up here, woulda told ya there was nothin..."

Lee's arms wrap tightly around his small chest again, and he's still gnawing at that lip like its the bane of his existence. The wound from biting it has been torn wider, but he doesn't seem to notice. His tone is more hesitant, a little more subdued, but still just as outraged. Oh, the injustice of a teenage heart scorned. Ruckus would be laughing if he trusted Lee not to freak out again.

"It's not...just because I'm here. 's bullshit. Yer not like that. I been here fer almost a month, if ya wanted me, ya woulda taken me before now an to hell with what I thought 'bout it. Has to be more to it than that."

He stops, grinding a piece of dead skin between his teeth. Ruckus bends one leg at the knee, resting his arm over it lazily.

"Arrite sorry for not fuckin dryhumpin' ya the second ya walked in the door," he offers sardonically. "Makin' such a thing outta it, seems like ya want an answer I ain't got for ya. Maybe I jus ain't what yer in the market for, Leech."

Inexplicably, Lee's eyes are even darker when his gaze finally returns to Ruckus. "What the fuck makes you think I'm in the market at all?"

"Cause I watch ya," Ruckus returns in that same casual voice. "You sit on the sidelines, lookin everything over, ya learn that way, watchin people move an breath, 's yer nature."

Lee is almost soothed by that. He was convinced that Ruckus never noticed him, never cared to pay attention to the things he did. Hardly anyone else had, why would someone like Ruckus? But the next comment, whether it's meant to be sarcastic or not, ruins the effect of the previous.

"But whadda I know? I'm only in it for yer pants."

Something in Lee's brain snaps, the scowl returning full-force. He pushes himself quickly to his feet, his small hands making short work of his belt buckle and the clasp of his pants. Tearing the material down his legs, he throws his pants at Ruckus' face, turning and stomping away from him. In Pink Panther boxers and boots, Lee hits the landing and continues down the stairs. Ruckus catches the pants easily, lazily folding them up and stuffing them behind his pillow for safekeeping. After taking a moment to make sure the boy has gotten to where ever the hell he was going, he stands up and stretches languidly. Then he follows his path, trodding downstairs to see if Duster is still up. After having that much emotion thrown at him, getting some ink done could be therapeutically numbing.

Duster is indeed awake, throwing a confused glance at Leech when he stomps by, out the side door. The boy doesn't even give him a look to substantiate it. It's obvious that the suggestion Duster made earlier wasn't the best of his career. A few moments later, when Ruckus finally makes his way to the first floor, Duster turns his head to give him a calculating look. And Ruckus knows that cathartic tattoos are out of the question.

"The fuck he think he's gonna go?," Ruckus asks, as incredulous as he allows himself to get.

Duster's expression doesn't change, and Ruckus inwardly curses the red-haired artist for being so involved in this situation that shouldn't even be a situation. "Does it matter? Your fault."

"Not yers for sendin' him my way, huh-uh," Ruckus scoffs annoyedly, but Duster only sticks his thumb in the direction of the door as a response.

Ruckus sighs, but convinces himself to Do The Right Thing for once. He drags his hoodie off of Duster's couch and stuffs himself into it before loping out the door lazily. It isn't hard to find Lee, he almost wishes it was, but the boy only got as far as the abandoned tool shed. The way his shoulders are hunched up and he's curled up, Ruckus can tell he's crying, and he forces himself to keep his face passive as he settles onto the dirt across from the tiny figure.

"Got yer pants like I wanted," he starts flatly. "Now I just gotta try fer the rest of ya. An' I mean with yer clothes on."

"Fuck off."

Ruckus smirks for the apparent weakness in Lee's voice, leaning back and pressing his palms against the ground to support himself. "No."

Lee unfurls himself like a flower, pushing up onto his knees to plant both hands on Ruckus' shoulders. He pushes him, trying to shove him away. If it were anyone else, Ruckus would push back, more than that. But not with this one. Likewise, the pained indignance in Lee's voice would make him laugh in any other situation, from anyone else, but for some reason the kid is justified.

"Just leave me alone! Ya got what ya wanted, you proved you could do it, ya can get the stupid virgin to give up his inhibitions, ain't that efuckinnough? You gotta dig the knife in a little deeper, er what?"

Ruckus straightens up, smooths his palms over the thighs of his pants to clean them. Then he methodically removes the lighter and the switchblade from his pockets, setting them on the ground. He reaches behind himself, tugging the gun out of the waistband of his pants and setting it alongside the others. Leech practically jumps to his feet and skitters back at the sight of the gun, and Ruckus wishes he didn't know why. Wishes he didn't know so much about this kid, and wishes he could blow this off like he does everything else. But the frightened reaction doesn't make him change his even tone, or his expressionless demeanor.

"Jus so we're on an even playin field from the waist down," he explains. "Arrite, so I got what I wanted, whatever that was, whats that mean you want then, huh? Or were ya just the victim all the way?"

Lee finally halts, a yard or so away from Ruckus, and he wraps his arms tight around himself again. He continues staring at the gleaming metal of that gun for a moment, and by the time he looks back to Ruckus, he's smart enough to have erased all traces of anger from his face and his voice.

"Look, I can't...I can't do this, Jake. Not like you. I know what yer thinkin, I'm just some stupid kid, freakin' out over a fuckin' handjob, and you prolly wouldn't have touched me in the first place if ya knew it'd be like this. But I..." the boy trails off here, shaking his head as he coughs harshly. "I don' know anything, I never even kissed no one before, an' until last night I didn' even know why I wanted to be around ya all the time or what I wanted from ya, mebbe I still don't. But ya jus...act like this happens all the time, an' it prolly does fer you, I mean look at you, ya can have anyone ya want, whatever ya want from em. But I can't, an' I wouldn' know how to get it if I could, an I definitely can'...can' fuckin' blow it off like it was nothin and laugh about it."

By the time he finishes his voice is quiet again, almost defeated. Ruckus hates the way it makes him frown. But even after all of that, all he can say is. "That was yer first kiss? Well I fucked that up..."

The man pulls himself to his feet, approaching Lee with his hands up as if he were an undomesticated animal that's escaped the zoo. "Lets say, jus' fer now, that it ain't a lie I can have anyone I want an you can't, cause I'm sayin right now, s'not true.An lets say, outta everyone I can supposedly get, I go after ya. Says somethin about you doesn't it?"

Lee tries to listen to what Ruckus is saying. He should appreciate the way he's backed down, he's almost even apologizing, but he can't. The rest of the thoughts in his head are too loud. He gives a telltale sniff, then shakes his head lightly. "We can jus...ferget it, okay? Never happened. Not important. I'll be gone by mornin."

Ruckus mimics the boy, shaking his head softly at first, but more emphatic as he approaches. "No. No, not like this ya won't."

Finally reaching Lee, he slides a hand under his chin, trying to get the boy to look up at him. Lee makes a move to pull his head away, but doesn't go through with it, though he refuses to meet the older man's gaze. He can't stand to look at him now, tears still making their way freely down his face, eyes rimmed with red, lips chapped and bleeding . He digs his fingernails into his bare sides as Ruckus continues.

"I'm not standin out here unarmed an outta my way, outta my mind maybe, cause I want ya gone. So no, we don't gotta ever bring it up again if ya want, but yer not just gonna bolt, not now," Ruckus finally drops his hand, taking a step back with the action. "'sides, I named ya, don' that mean I get to keep ya?"

After all that, Lee finally lifts his gaze back to Ruckus' face. The man doesn't look hopeful or pleading, but he isn't wearing that typical half-grin either, just watching Lee blankly. Lee blinks a couple times, swallowing harshly before whispering. "K-keep me...?"

"Unless there's somethin out here that sparks yer interest better," Ruckus tells him, rolling off a lazy shrug and glancing around the lot, like he expects a festive garden gnome to scamper out and beg Leech to be its roommate. "I'm keepin' yer pants, the rest of ya is yer own business."

As he leans down to collect the items from the ground and replace them, Leech nods once. He tries not to be too disappointed by that response, since again, he has no idea what he was hoping for. Instead, he takes a step back before turning and trodding back into the warehouse. Ruckus takes a few quicker steps with longer legs, moving ahead of him and blocking his path just inside the building. He's probably standing too close as he takes one of the boy's hands, stroking his knuckles over the back of it gently.

"Stay with me tonight?"

Leech blinks in surprise. He wasn't expecting to hear from Ruckus again tonight. He figured it would be awkward for a while, and then go back to normal, the way it was before last night. Rather than answer him verbally, he ducks his head, taking the necessary half step forward to press himself against Ruckus' chest. He knows Duster is awake, and that Duster will politely be pretending not to pay attention, though that makes him flush with embarassment - just being seen this way - he pays it no notice as he feels Ruckus' free arm wrap around his hips. His fingers curl around Leech's side, tugging on his hip before he takes a step back and detatches to head upstairs. Lee catches up with him again as Ruckus leans down to mutter something to Duster. He twists a hand in the material of Ruckus' sweatshirt, not paying the slightest attention as Duster gives a low laugh and smiles at him.

Leech slinks up the stairs after Ruckus, one hand still caught in his hoodie. Ruckus is surprised he isn't annoyed by the way the kid clings to him, and he doesn't even try to get free until they reach the third floor. He kicks his boots off, then tugs off the sweatshirt which causes Leech's hand to release it. Afterwards, Leech hovers uncertainly while Ruckus stretches out on the blankets like a dog in front of a fireplace, waiting patiently for his stray kitten to follow. Leech glances towards the doorway, as if he's seriously considering bolting again, but in the end he predictably shuffles to the 'bed,' dropping to his ass next to Ruckus. He begins unlacing his boots, and Ruckus reaches over to assist, withdrawing his hand to let Leech kick them off as he pleases. Then he stretches his arms up above his head, drawing his gaze over the nervous little boy at his side and smirking to himself.

"Duster likes yer name."

next installment can be found here: Kitten Gloves.

if there is enough interest in these, I will get to work on the next part to post it. if there is no interest, I'll work on the next part for my own enjoyment.