From Russia with Extreme Prejudice
A/N - Thanks to Cougar's Catnip for all the handholding, peaceful_sands for the awesome beta work, and Jodi for the Spanish translation help.
Warnings- whump, implied Jensen/Cougar and quite a bit of very embarrassing sexy talk
Disclaimer - All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended
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Cougar's head hurt. No, scratch that, Cougar's head really hurt. He tried to open his eyes but felt his lashes dragging against something, some kind of fabric which was bound around his head. Instinctively he tried to lift his hands to push the fabric away, but found that each wrist was firmly tied to the chair he was currently sitting on. The same went for his feet, they too were bound to the chair legs.
He frowned behind the blindfold, what the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was being in position, watching Clay and Pooch grab their target's car and head back to the safehouse. It had been unseasonably warm and bright for Russia and Cougar had a brief memory of realising that the sun had reflected off of his scope for a moment. Memories slotted back into position like Tetris blocks, and suddenly he recalled hearing boots scuffing the rooftop behind him, and turning to see a Russian the size of Roque standing over him. A large black boot had connected with his temple and after that everything was welcoming blackness. Until now.
He turned his head carefully, listening for anything that would give him a clue to his location. Nothing, silence met his ears and he ground his teeth angrily. How the fuck had he been so slipshod as to allow somebody to get the drop on him like that? Yes, normally Jensen or Pooch would have been with him, working as his spotter, but this op demanded that both of them act as backup for Clay and Roque, in case the target had more security with him than intel had predicted.
Cougar heard a door creak open, and footsteps approached him. A rough voice said something in rapid Russian and he shook his head, not understanding enough to attempt a reply. Without warning, the man dealt him an open-handed slap, snapping his head to the left and making his cheek sting. Cougar clenched his teeth but tried not to show any reaction, other than a raised eyebrow above the blindfold. The man spoke again, this time in surprisingly good English, “Where is Sergei? You want to get back to your pretty team alive, tell me what I want to know.” Cougar couldn't suppress a faint smile at the thought of Roque's reaction to being called 'pretty' by a Russian mobster. Said mobster took offense at this facial expression and jabbed his fist swiftly into the sniper's solar plexus, making him hunch over and grimace at the pain.
“No time for smiles,” the man said silkily, “You know where Sergei is being held, and I can do this for as long as it takes for you to decide to tell me.”
Shaking his head, Cougar replied, “Save your energy, I don't know what you're talking about. Who is Sergei? And who are you?
“Nice try, and I'm Alexei, I doubt you'll forget my name in a hurry,” muttered the Russian before backhanding Cougar across his face, “Where is he?”
Cougar probed his mouth with his tongue, there was a small cut already opening up where his teeth had cut into the flesh, he tasted blood faintly and grimaced again. He never could stand that taste. “I don't know who Sergei is, and I have no idea where he is” he said firmly, carefully pronouncing each word to ensure there was no misunderstanding between his Spanish-accented English and Russian ears.
A hand suddenly grabbed Cougar's tied-back hair and pulled his head back, fingers twisting painfully into the grimy black locks. The sniper snarled, but knew better than to try to pull away. He liked his hair where it was, attached to his scalp, thank you very much. Alexei speaking again, right next to his ear, saying quietly, “I know who you are, soldier. I know why you came here, and I know your boss values you enough to want you back alive. If he's a clever man, and sends Sergei back to us in one piece, you'll get home with all your extremities attached. If not...” the man let the sentence trail off, but Cougar had a shrewd idea as to what he could expect to happen when Clay didn't co-operate.
He breathed evenly through his nose and said calmly, “I don't know who Sergei is, and I don't have any boss. You have the wrong guy.”
Cougar's hair was released as the Russian chuckled unpleasantly, “Keep saying that, soldier, maybe soon one of us will believe it.”
The footsteps made their way out and the door creaked again, leaving Cougar to his thoughts. How had he ended up in this situation? It had all been going so smoothly, too smoothly really, he should have expected something to go wrong. Especially after Pooch uttered the words, “This should be simple enough.” When he got out of here, he was going to kick Pooch's ass.
Three days earlier...
“Okay, this is our target, one Sergei Laptev.” Clay used his small laser pen to hover over the picture of Laptev, just in case his team didn't realize that he'd acquired a new one, after Jensen managed to turn his last one into a pile of spare parts. Roque rolled his eyes, honestly, it was like working with a bunch of teenagers sometimes.
“Laptev is high up in a mob-run scheme which is suspected of a whole list of criminal activities, including money laundering, people trafficking, drug distribution, and possibly some involvement with conflict diamonds, which in turn may mean they have contact with terrorist cells that our bosses would very much like intel on. This guy never moves without at least twenty private security goons around him, I doubt he makes it to the bathroom without someone holding his dick for him. We have an informant in Russia who has managed to let us know that Laptev will be moving through St. Petersburg in three days time. We go in, grab him, and get him onto US soil as soon as.”
Cougar had listened carefully as Clay explained the ins and outs of the mission, making mental notes of radio frequencies and call signs as he usually did. When the colonel mentioned that neither Jensen nor Pooch could be spared to act as a spotter this time, Cougar's eyes had narrowed in displeasure, but he made no comment. It wasn't the first time he'd worked alone, and it wasn't as though he'd be in the midst of the action, he was the team's eye in the sky, keeping a watch on any potential threats and taking out anyone who was stupid enough to get into his sights.
The plan was to fly to Russia the next day, settle themselves into a safehouse that was being set up for them, and scope out the route Laptev's car was expected to take through the city. Clay and Pooch would be the ones to actually grab the Russian, after they, along with Jensen and Roque, had taken care of the private security. Cougar would be up on a rooftop, within rifle range, calling out targets and keeping an eye on the situation.
Roque had a look on his face that could only be described as 'sour', Cougar decided. The moment he'd heard Clay say 'Russia', he'd fallen into an absolutely foul mood and had stayed there. They all knew it was because he and Clay had been involved in some sort of incident in Moscow years ago. The culmination of this incident was the two of them spending a week in a Russian prison. The captain had held a grudge against the country ever since, and any op that took them either near or over its border was not a cheerful one. As they sat in the plane, Roque was throwing out 'don't even think about trying to cheer me up' vibes like there was no tomorrow.
Cougar shifted a few inches away from the captain, as did Jensen. Their knees brushed and for a brief second their eyes flicked up to meet each other. Nothing was said, nothing ever was. But there was a certain promise in that glance, that said they'd be looking out for each other while on mission, and finding a private room as soon as they were back home again. It wasn't serious, this thing they had going on. At least Cougar didn't think it was serious. He hadn't asked Jake for his opinion, and wasn't sure he wanted to. Forming attachments was not a good idea in their line of work. As it was, they could fool around, have some fun with each other, and still go to work and act as though nothing was going on. They both loved their jobs enough to want to avoid any complications with Don't Ask, Don't Tell.
The plane touched down on Russian ground, and Roque's scowl got even deeper, if that was possible. Jensen debated making some kind of 'if the wind changes, your face might stay that way' comment, but decided he liked his dick where it was. His captain could be a bit free with the bladed weapons sometimes.
After they'd settled into the safehouse, which was surprisingly comfortable, as safehouses went, the serious business of recon started. The route Laptev's car was scheduled to take was mostly through large open streets, making their job harder. This was supposed to be a quiet operation, in and out, no muss no fuss. Clay suspected that, officially, they were not there, so their bosses would not take kindly to them causing a major incident on Russian turf. But it wasn't as though this was their first rodeo, so all being well, it should be the invisible job his superiors wanted.
Pooch, being their fluent Russian speaker, was dispatched in search of supplies, with Jensen urging him to bring back as much chocolate as he could lay his hands on. Apparently it helped him concentrate. The young tech op was currently buried in the St.Petersburg transport system, doing what he could to restrict the flow of traffic on and around the route Laptev would be taking.
“Jesus, why didn't I learn more Russian?” Jensen groaned, massaging his head and rubbing his now aching eyes. “This is making as much sense as freakin' Japanese.”
“Japanese is simple if you study it long enough” Clay muttered from the floor, where he was meticulously checking his weapons, one handgun disassembled on a drop cloth in front of him. “You just have no patience and expect to be able to upload everything like that stupid guy in The Matrix.”
Jensen glanced at Clay with scandalized eyes and opened his mouth to reply that The Matrix was truly breathtaking and only a complete heathen would abuse it, when Cougar's boot nudged his leg. The sniper caught Jensen's eye and gave a tiny shake of his head. Not the time, buddy. Clay always got grumpy before the action started. No time to goad him, wait till they were on home territory for that.
Jensen nodded, agreeing with the quiet sniper. Better to mess with Clay when he didn't have so much access to such a wide range of weapons. Sighing, the blond turned back to his laptop and started swearing at it in Polish.
Cougar carefully shuffled forward on his stomach, mimicking the posture he adopted when he had his rifle nestled snugly under him. Yes, this roof would do as well as any other. He had a good clear view of the road Clay planned to ambush Laptev on. There were other tall buildings around him, but there was nothing he could do about that, he'd just have to be extra vigilant, and try to avoid being seen.
He narrowed his eyes and glared down at the street below him. Something was off. He didn't know what it was, but something was making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Jensen would say it was his awesome 'snipey-senses', he smiled faintly, the kid was crazy. But, the fact remained, he had a bad feeling about this op. Cougar shook himself, he was being stupid. Their intel was good, and the plan was fairly simple. On the face of it, nothing could or should go wrong. Didn't stop him worrying though. Giving the scene below one last cursory glance, he backed away from the roof edge and retreated to the relative comfort of their safehouse.
The day of the actual op arrived and everyone was twitchy. When Roque snarled at Jensen for daring to touch one of his knives, Jensen snarled back, surprising everyone. For all his snarky comments, the tech op usually had a fairly even temper. Today however, he was glowering at them like a bear with the proverbial sore head. Cougar saw Clay's concerned gaze, and pulled Jensen into the small kitchen to quietly ask what was wrong.
“Nothing,” Jensen growled, fingers drumming against his leg.
Cougar just raised an eyebrow, knowing the young man wouldn't avoid answering him for long.
“Okay,” Jensen sighed, “You're gonna say I'm nuts, but I just have a bad feeling about this. And yes, I know I just went totally Han Solo on you, tease me later. This is a shitty mission, I don't like you being alone and I hate the fact we have to keep the guy here and wait twelve freakin' hours for extraction.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I'm so going to get a migraine after this is over.”
The sniper bit his lip, not really knowing what to say. Jensen had just put his own feelings into words. But the last thing the comms man needed was to know that Cougar himself was worried. So he plastered on a smile and said, “No hay problema, todo es bueno. There's no problem, everything's good. Just do your job, I'll do mine and we'll be home soon. I'll be extra careful, you happy now?”
“No,” snorted Jensen, “But I don't have much choice, do I? Don't worry, I'll do my job.” He frowned, mouth pressed into a thin line.
Cougar crowded him up against the sink and said quietly, “Calme. Nada va a ir mal, es un plan bueno. Calm down. Nothing will go wrong, it's a good plan.”
For a second they stared at each other, and Cougar found himself wondering whether he'd been wrong about Jensen not considering their 'thing' to be serious. Then the blond smiled, it was a fake grin, and they both knew it, but if it could keep Jensen functioning till the op was over, so be it.
“Okay, cowboy. Let's go get the bad guy.” Jensen's voice was light and enthusiastic, as per usual. Cougar grinned and nodded. As he left the kitchen behind the sniper, Jensen's smile faded. He made a beeline for his comms equipment, obsessively checking and re-checking it. If Cougar needed to contact them, Jensen would make damn sure his earpiece and throat mic didn't let him down.
“Cougar, you set?” Clay's voice crackled in their earpieces.
“Si,” came Cougar's reply. Jensen looked up at the building the sniper had picked out as his best location. Nothing was visible, not that he'd expected it to be. Cougar was an expert at blending in with his surroundings; in his job he had to be.
“Pooch, Jensen, you good?” Clay's voice cut through Jensen's thoughts.
Pooch quickly answered for both of them, “Yeah, all set, sir.” He looked at Jensen as he spoke, eyebrows raised. Jensen nodded, and ignored Pooch's worried eyes.
“Okay, here we go,” Clay murmured, gripping his gun more tightly.
Four sleek black cars were gliding around the corner. If their intel was correct, Laptev would be in the third vehicle in the little convoy. Cougar breathed out slowly and then swiftly put two rounds into the engine block of the leading car. It swung wildly for a second before the driver managed to bring it to a halt. Before the first car had even stopped moving, Roque had leaped into the road, and flung a wickedly barbed stinger in front of the last car in the column, blowing out all four tires at once.
Predictably, the private security men surged out of the cars, circling the vehicle containing their employer. Clay grinned as he pulled his trigger, he did hate these guys. Wade, a friend he'd run missions with quite often, had departed from the military last year, acrimoniously. Now the rumors were that he was working for some shady CIA type, providing round the clock security and getting paid more than Clay could hope to make in a lifetime. He saw three men fall, clutching at bullet wounds, and prayed that he'd never sink so low as to have to rely on scum like Laptev to provide his pay packet.
Cougar was tersely calling out targets for his team, trying to watch the action below and keep an eye on his own surroundings simultaneously. He saw Pooch drop two security goons with a short burst of fire and grinned. When the driver had first joined them, Cougar hadn't been too sure that he'd fit in. But he'd come out of his shell soon enough and now the team wouldn't feel the same without his quick-fire snarks and easy smiles. He was also a hell of a soldier, and Cougar felt better knowing that he could rely on Pooch to have Jensen's back.
Amazingly, everything seemed to be going to plan, the security men were dropping like flies before the combined fire of the four men on the ground. Soon none moved from where they'd fallen,and their return fire died away. Clay muttered, “Pooch, you ready to drive?” Getting an affirmative reply, he, Roque and Jensen broke cover and warily approached Laptev's car. As they flung open the doors, three more security men burst out of the vehicle, firing wildly. All three hit the ground within seconds, but one round managed to bury itself in Roque's left shoulder. Swearing violently, he put another two bullets into the offending man.
Pooch ran around the car and slid into the driver's seat. Clay slammed all the doors shut but one, and glanced inside. Laptev was huddled into a ball, looking horrified that his highly paid men had just been decimated and that he was now all alone with no hope of rescue. Clay said nothing, just grinned as he hopped inside the car and pulled the door closed. Pooch managed to steer around the wreck of the leading car, then drove back to their safehouse in as normal a manner as possible, to avoid any unwanted police attention.
Roque and Jensen retreated to the van they'd used to get to the ambush point. By now Roque was quiet, biting the inside of his mouth against the pain in his shoulder. Jensen knew better than to try to treat the captain there and then. If he attempted it he'd only get sworn at and punched with Roque's good arm. Instead he made sure their gear was stowed safely and slipped behind the wheel. There was plenty of time to look at wounds back at the bolt hole.
Arriving back at the safehouse, Jensen looked eagerly around, expecting to see Cougar lounging on one of the sofas, hat in place, along with an 'I told you everything would be fine' smirk. But there was no sign of the sniper. Jensen felt a cold shiver pass down his back. He quickly searched the rest of the house, avoiding the room where he could hear Clay's voice rumbling threats at the Russian. Cougar was definitely not there. Looking at his watch, Jensen tensed, it was way past the rendezvous time. Cougar was hardly ever late, even if he had to fight his way out of a position.
Finding Pooch in the kitchen, Jensen snapped, “Where's Coug? You seen him?”
“No, I figured he was in the bathroom or something. You sure he's not here?” Pooch replied, voice worried.
“I've checked the whole place, no sign of him,” Jensen said firmly, his stomach starting to twist itself into a tight knot.
“Get Clay,” Pooch said. Jensen was running back up the stairs before he'd even finished speaking.
Colliding with Clay on the narrow landing, Jensen ignored the older man's growl and said quickly, “Sir, Cougar's not back yet. It's past the rendezvous, he should be here by now.”
Clay's frown deepened as he said, “Any word from him?” Jensen shook his head. “Fuck.” Jensen had to agree with his CO's succinct summing up of the situation. Clay was speaking again, and Jake forced himself to listen. “Get Pooch and Roque, living room, now.” Nodding, Jensen turned and hurled himself down the steep stairs.
Pooch was being allowed to look at Roque's shoulder, he being their fall back medic when Cougar wasn't around. “...nice through and through,” he was saying as Jensen burst into the room, “bit of blood loss, but no serious damage as far as I can tell.” Roque grabbed at the pain meds and growled as Pooch took two of them back out of his hand and snapped, “What, you want to overdose in the middle of a mission?”
Roque sat up and ignored Pooch's protest at having to bandage a moving shoulder. “Jensen, any word from Cougar?”
Jensen only had time to shake his head before Clay barreled him out of the way and swept into the room.
“Right, Roque, you and Pooch stay here and keep an eye on that slimy bastard upstairs. Jensen and I are going to check out Cougar's last position. We'll check in at regular intervals, if we don't come back, no heroics. Sit tight and wait, then get to the extraction point. Clear?”
Roque nodded, mouth a thin line, eyes worried. Clay breathed out sharply through his nose then said, “Come on, Jensen, you're driving.”
Clay crept cautiously up the stairwell of Cougar's building, gun in hand. Luckily it was deserted, but at that very moment Clay didn't much care about whether he was in danger of exposing himself and his team to Russian civilians. His heart was pounding and his own breathing sounded loud and panicked. Cougar had only ever been late to a rendezvous once before and by the time they found him he'd almost bled to death. The colonel took a deep, steadying breath and pushed open the heavy door to the roof.
Jensen nearly shoved his commanding officer out of the way in his desperation to get to Cougar's last known position. As it was he bounced on the balls of his feet, and made it through the roof access door a split second after Clay. His training stopped him from running to Cougar's vantage point, but only because he was reining himself in so tightly.
Together the two soldiers swept the roof, satisfying themselves that they were the ones up there. Clay's eyes narrowed and he gazed down at the blanket arranged neatly by the roof edge, a canteen of water and some energy bars lying next to it. Cougar hated lying on concrete, and always had this little blanket stowed in his pack somewhere when they were working in the city. It was still there, but there was no sign of Cougar, or his rifle. Even more ominously, Cougar's hat was lying on the floor, upside down, looking strangely sad without its enigmatic owner.
Jensen's breathing sped up as he stooped to retrieve the hat. His hands clenched on the brim as he said, “What the fuck, sir?”
“I don't know, Jensen,” Clay muttered, poking at the blanket. A small lump caught his eye and flipped a corner of the warm fabric back. A cell phone was lying nestled into the rug, on top of a piece of paper. The men exchanged a glance, and then both seemed to decide at once that if it was an IED, they'd be the one to pick it up first. Clay was closer and his hand closed over the phone before Jensen's. The younger man grabbed the slip of paper before the wind carried it over the edge and read it, teeth slowly sinking into his lip.
“Well?” Clay demanded, secretly relived that the phone hadn't blown his hand off. The color was draining from Jensen's face, his normally pink cheeks were now grey. He handed the paper to Clay without a word and stood, gripping the hat so hard his knuckles turned white.
Frowning, Clay read the note. It wasn't in the greatest of English, and had obviously been written in a hurry, but the gist of it was that Laptev had anticipated capture and had some of his men stationed on rooftops to keep an eye on his cars. Somehow they'd seen Cougar and grabbed him. If Clay wanted him back alive, all he had to do was return Laptev to them. The note gave him a deadline to contact the men, and a phone number.
Clay swore at length, then remembered that he was supposed to remain detached and calm in these situations. He looked at his watch, the deadline was still an hour and a half away, time enough to get back to the safehouse. Throwing the phone to Jensen, who caught it deftly despite the hat, he said, “Think you can hack your way into that and trace the signal when I call these bastards?”
The tech op looked at the small phone contemptuously. “This pissy little thing? Of course I can, no problem.”
“Why are you still here then?” Clay growled, striding toward the stairs, “Come on, move your ass.”
All the way back to the safehouse, Jensen had been silent. Clay knew the young man could be quiet when he needed to be, he just didn't often do it voluntarily. His hands were gripping the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched shut, teeth grinding furiously. Clay rubbed his eyes, the last thing he wanted was to have a 'serious' talk with his comms man, but he felt the need to do just that.
“Jensen, you okay?” he ventured, and received a tight-lipped nod in return. Sighing, he said, “Look, you've got a boot up your ass at the moment, and the last thing I need is a twitchy tech. So calm the hell down, okay?”
The hands on the steering wheel relaxed a tiny fraction, but Jensen's shoulders tightened up in response. His voice was low and lacked any of its usual banter as he said, “Yes, sir. I'm fine. I won't let you down.” He glanced across to Clay for a moment and the older man saw the desperation lurking in his blue eyes. Clay wondered whether there was something going on between Jensen and Cougar that he'd completely missed up until now. That was a worrying thought, he was happy with the way his team functioned and definitely did not want any personal issues fucking around with the dynamic. Maybe when this was over, he should corner Jensen and have a quiet talk with him. He'd stand more chance of getting some kind of answer, however sarcastic, out of the tech op than he would out of Cougar. Honestly, no wonder people sometimes genuinely thought the sniper was mute. For now, the colonel settled for clearing his throat and saying gruffly,“I know you won't. We'll find Cougs and when we do, we'll kill the sons of bitches who thought they could screw with my team. Sound fun?”
“Yes, sir, it does,” Jake muttered, and a cold smile flitted across his face. Suddenly Clay was glad he was on Jensen's side. Somehow, he didn't think the mobsters would be getting much quarter from his tech op. He wasn't sure whether to be worried or just the tiniest bit proud.
Jensen flung the safehouse door open so hard it almost left its hinges. Pooch peered round the living room doorway, handgun pointed unwaveringly at his team-mate's head. Jensen stopped, hands up and said, “It's okay, it's only me. Don't shoot me, I'm far too important right now.”
Pooch rolled his eyes and retreated back into the living room. “Well?” he demanded as Jensen followed him and started pulling out laptops and other electrical type stuff that Pooch was proud to say he had a rudimentary understanding of, and called 'the geek's wet dream' behind Jensen's back.
Clay answered as he strode into the room, “Laptev's goons got Cougar. Left us a phone, said they'll arrange an exchange, Cougs for Laptev. Jensen's gonna track the phone signal, and we'll pay them a little surprise visit.”
Pooch smiled grimly as he said, “Please tell me you're not gonna try to pull that 'you wait in the van' shit again, colonel. I am not missing out on a chance to kick these guy's asses. Laptev is a first class slimeball, keeps yelling us, wanting every little thing. I'm ready to kill anyone who works for him, so please do not leave me out of the fun stuff.”
Snorting with laughter, Clay nodded, then yelled for Roque. The captain entered the room, a very dangerous look on his face. “Please tell me I can hurt somebody soon, Clay,” he growled, “That bastard upstairs is driving me insane. He wants tea, do I look like the kind of person who makes tea? For the love of God, tell me we have a plan and it involves me shooting people.”
“We have a plan,” Clay said soothingly, “First thing we need to do is call Laptev's guys and keep 'em talking long enough for Jensen to trace a location. Then we find them, kill 'em, and get our damn sniper back. Good enough for you?”
“Good enough,” said Roque with a grim smile.
Part 2...