Yuletide Fic: "I Saw Tail Lights Last Night." (Baby Driver) R
Title: I Saw Tail Lights Last Night. (On Archive Of Our Own)
Author:
lannamichaels
Fandom: Baby Driver
Series: Merge Point
Pairing: Baby/Doc (Baby Driver)
Rating: R
A/N: Happy Yuletide, Largishcat! Soundtrack: The Gaslight Anthem - Great Expectations (title track); Elle King - Good Girls
Summary: It was inevitable that Baby would eventually begin to chafe in his position.
It was inevitable that Baby would eventually begin to chafe in his position. Doc's impressed it takes six years for it to really start. Baby's pushed back on things before, but this isn't Baby wimping out, it's Baby testing his chains. If Doc didn't know better, he'd think Baby was gearing up for a truly historic temper tantrum.
He sends Baby on a few errands to Charleston to give him a chance to cool off, and when that doesn't work, gives him over to the mechanic for a bacchanalia of auto parts. But the appeasement doesn't last and Doc finds himself contemplating harsher methods.
"Do you know how to get out of handcuffs?" he asks Baby. He'd neglected that part of Baby's education, but Baby's clever. He's picked up a lot of tricks over the years.
"No," Baby says. He has a way of giving a one word answer that implies an entire paragraph. In this case, the paragraph is highly skeptical and unhappy about this direction of conversation. Too bad for him.
"Good," Doc says. "Sit backwards on the chair." Baby obeys immediately and Doc cuffs his hands in front, trapped between his body and the back of the chair.
Baby doesn't say anything and his silence is even more skeptical. Doc's trained him to be more confident in his abilities and his place in Doc's little empire. It means Baby's not scared.
Yet.
Any other subordinate and Doc would put this down to Baby contemplating breaking out to make his own way, but Baby still looks years younger than his age. If he wanted to run his own crew, he'd need to do a lot of things he doesn't want to do just to get them to listen to him. And Baby's not going to do that. If he was going to shoot people, he'd be doing it for Doc, so Doc's not worried about that. And Baby wouldn't run to the cops. Not his Baby. Doc's got a blackmail file on Baby longer than his dick. Baby knows better. Baby's a good boy. He's just unhappy with the status quo. That's fine. Doc can make him happy with it. Doc gives Baby everything he needs. That's how this works. Baby gets what he needs and, in return, he does everything Doc tells him to do. No exceptions. This wouldn't be the first time Doc's had to give Baby something new.
"Stay still," he tells Baby.
Baby's got his headphones in and Doc never touches those directly. He'll tell Baby when to take them out or put them back in, but he doesn't touch them himself. He's pushed a lot of Baby's limits over the years, has redefined a handful of them to his own specifications, but he knows where Baby's line is. Baby relies on his music, that's fine, Doc can work with that. He pulls Baby's ipod out of Baby's pocket and scrolls through it until he finds a playlist full of pounding beats. He thinks Baby uses it when babysitting Sam to ignore the sounds of video games. That'll work fine for his purposes. Doc turns the volume up until he can make out lyrics through the headphones and then steps away. Baby can split his attention pretty well, but he's depriving Baby of being able to read his lips or see what he's doing, and it's going to be hard for Baby to hear him too clearly.
Doc reaches around Baby's waist and unbuckles his belt. He pulls it out through the loops and takes it in his hands. Baby tries to look over his shoulder, but Doc puts his hand on Baby's scalp and faces him forward. Baby doesn't fight it.
The beating itself isn't what Baby needs, not really. Not that Doc won't enjoy administering it, but a good beating doesn't accomplish much, not with someone like Baby. It's what comes after the beating that's so important, that makes the difference. Baby will get it both from him, both pleasure and pain, both hurt and cherished.
Baby's not tied to the chair. He could get up at any time. He could look behind him at any time. But he won't. He'll take this from Doc because it's what Doc wants to give him and Baby knows that Doc knows best. Baby's been chafing, but that just means he needs more than what he's been getting. It means he's been having doubts, but he hasn't gone all the way to making a decision about what to do about it. Doc's going to give him an answer now. And that answer is, if Baby needs a firmer hand to remind him of what he'd gotten himself into, of what he'd agreed to, then Doc will give it to him.
Baby doesn't make a sound through the first five strokes. He's tense in the chair, but not struggling against the cuffs. He's not fighting it at all. It's been years since Doc made a habit of beating people, so he's a little out of practice. But Baby's not going to complain. Baby doesn't complain when Doc runs him ragged on the job, doesn't complain when plans go south. Baby doesn't even complain when Doc chooses his clothes.
At ten strokes, Baby whimpers and then his shoulders abruptly relax. He's breathing hard and loud now, panting at each stroke. He starts giving into it, meeting each stroke of the leather against his back.
Doc closes the distance between them and scratches his nails down the nape of Baby's neck and Baby shudders. There'd been a job three years ago where Doc had given in to his baser urges and made Baby wear a dog collar. Baby had loathed it, but he had looked phenomenal. He'd also managed to set the damn thing on fire by the end of the job, but that's Baby for you. When he says no, he makes sure it's loud and clear and pointlessly destructive. But he still loves it when Doc does anything with his neck. He's so sensitive there. Doc doesn't bite him there, he never leaves bruises unless he has to, but he's taken Baby completely apart before while never touching him below his collarbone.
Baby's ipod kicks over to a new song, one with a faster beat, and Doc steps back again and gives Baby ten more strokes. Baby isn't holding back by the end. He's not screaming, but it takes a lot to make Baby scream. Doc's not going to go that far now unless he has to, and from the way Baby is shaking, he doesn't have to.
Baby's head is hanging down when Doc walks around to the other side of the chair. Doc lifts Baby's chin up. Baby's eyes are wet but he meets Doc's gaze steadily. Doc's always been so impressed at Baby's control. It takes a lot to get a reaction from him, but the ones he gets are simply beautiful. "I've been very disappointed in your attitude lately, Baby," he says.
Baby's lips move before he gets sound out. "I'm sorry, Doc," he says. "I'm sorry."
Doc presses his thumb against Baby's cheek and strokes the smooth skin there. "I know you are. Are you going to do better?" And Baby nods and his head stays down this time. That's good enough.
"Get up," Doc says and Baby tries to get up, but he doesn't manage to stand all the way. He sinks to his knees instead, folding in on himself at Doc's feet. Doc indulges himself by stroking his fingers through Baby's short hair. "There you go," he says. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"I'll do better," Baby promises, voice wavering. "I'll be better. I promise."
Doc slides his fingers down until he's touching just the top of the highest mark on Baby's back. He digs his nails in and Baby rubs his face against Doc's leg to escape it, to seek comfort from the one who's given him pain, to give himself over completely. "Good," Doc says.
This entry was originally posted at https://lannamichaels.dreamwidth.org/993540.html.