For mikaduma: just don't put down your guns yet
Title: just don't put down your guns yet
For: mikaduma
Pairing: Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1966w
Warning: implications of violence.
Summary: The kidnapping itself had gone quite smoothly, but something feels off about it all, leaves a bad taste in Mark's mouth - almost as if it had been too easy, which is a stupid thing to be thinking because dwelling on the past has never helped him before. But still, there's something about the whole thing that Mark can't quite shake off.
Normally, Mark wouldn't be in a situation like this, and he curses Jenson for even suggesting it. He used to have standards - as far as the jobs he took went, at least: never deal with middle men, never let emotions get in the way, never take work home. In the last few months, jobs have been few and far between, and when Jenson had mentioned this job, well - the money had been too good to resist, enough to overlook any doubts about the whole situation. It's not as if Jenson's never led him astray before, but Mark's always trusted him in the grand scale of things. And on paper - kidnapping the son of a wealthy, prestigious family - the job looks like a guaranteed payout. If all went to plan.
So, now Mark's stuck with a teenager in his spare room - a bratty, foul mouthed teenager at that - and it's all Jenson's fault. The kid's still unconscious, and still tied to a chair, which is something. There's a possibility that the aforementioned attitude problem led to Mark knocking him out, but hey, Mark never promised that the kid wouldn't get hurt.
Taking a moment to contemplate what a shit show his life has become, Mark fixes himself a drink. He downs it after a few more seconds of staring into space and pours himself another.
Jenson had been persuasive as ever, insisting that Mark wouldn't even have to kill anybody this time around, that all he needed to do was kidnap a teenager - he wouldn't even have to send out a ransom, Jenson told him, just sit and wait until his employers told him to hand the kid over. It would be a few days at the very most, probably no more than a few hours, no big deal.
The phone isn't ringing yet.
The kidnapping itself had gone quite smoothly, but something feels off about it all, leaves a bad taste in Mark's mouth - almost as if it had been too easy, which is a stupid thing to be thinking because dwelling on the past has never helped him before.
But still, there's something about the whole thing that Mark can't quite shake off.
-
The next morning, Mark wakes up to the smell of something cooking. It smells, well - it's not half bad, actually, and it takes a moment or two of lying there staring at the ceiling before he wakes up enough to realise why this is, in fact, a bad thing.
Sebastian's standing at the cooker in Mark's cramped little kitchen, pouring something into a frying pan. 'There are pancakes on that plate over there,' Sebastian says without looking up.
Abruptly, there are too many questions in Mark's head. How, exactly, had Sebastian gotten free - and why hadn't he left? Why hadn't he taken one of Mark's guns and made a run for it? Why on earth is Sebastian still here, and why is he making Mark breakfast, of all things?
Mark's not sure he even had the ingredients for pancakes before he went to sleep last night. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. It's too early to deal with this shit.
'You can make your own coffee,' Sebastian tells him, yawning as he saunters past.
Mark chooses to take a wary bite of a pancake. He's somewhat annoyed to realise that they're actually kind of good.
-
Sebastian doesn't kick up too much of a fuss when Mark manhandles him back into the spare room, shoving him into a chair before tying his hands, first together, and then to the back of the chair. For good measure, he secures Sebastian's ankles as well, although this does make Sebastian sigh. 'I'm not going to run away.'
'I don't get paid if I don't carry out the job. I can't let you run away.'
'I just told you I'm not going to.'
Mark ignores him, taking no small pleasure in slamming the door as he leaves the room.
He calls Jenson who doesn't have any news for him, and on top of that, is beginning to sound a bit nervous, which doesn't help how Mark's feeling.
'They're refusing to negotiate, and I haven't heard anything from the employers. Maybe-- Maybe this was a mistake,' he says. Mark curses, and Jenson manages a small laugh. 'My thoughts exactly.'
'What the fuck am I meant to do?' Mark asks, irritated beyond belief, and though he keeps telling himself that he never expected anything different; Mark has stuck his neck on the line for Jenson before, so maybe he had expected more from his friend. Coming back to the present, he realises that the line has gone quiet and clears his throat. 'I'm stuck with this kid until they pay up. He's beginning to smell weird.'
Jenson laughs, the sound not entirely unfriendly. 'I'm sure you can overpower one skinny little asshole, Mark,' he says. There's an unspoken apology somewhere in there, but Mark isn't sure he wants to acknowledge it.
-
It turns out Mark's clothes are too big for Sebastian - his sweatpants puddle around his feet if left to their own devices, and all of his t-shirts hang off of him. Sebastian doesn't complain; merely gives Mark a hapless grin - almost as if he's laughing at the whole situation. Sebastian is the only one laughing, Mark thinks, wry and only a little bitter.
Days pass, and Mark caves, winds up buying a couple of sets of cheap clothing in more appropriate sizes for the asshole teenager still taking up residence in his flat.
Sebastian doesn't seem to mind continuing to wear his clothes. As the days turn into weeks, however, something changes: Sebastian becomes more withdrawn, almost despairing, as it becomes ever clearer that the call isn't coming.
'What if nobody calls?' It's not really a question. Sebastian's voice sounds strange, nervous in a way Mark's never heard before. 'Nobody is coming.'
Mark's first instinct is to try to reassure Sebastian. It's probably just his mind playing tricks on him, ignoring everything he knows about Sebastian, only paying attention to that strange tone of voice. 'There's no reason to think that,' he says instead, making sure he sounds suitably dismissive. It feels important that he has no idea that he's getting to Mark.
'You don't understand. Nobody is going to call.'
Mark doesn't bother to ask Sebastian, just raises an eyebrow and waits to see if he'll explain himself.
'I'm the one who set up the job. I'm the one who hired you.'
It sounds so ridiculous that Mark can't - won't - quite believe it. 'You arranged your own kidnapping.'
Sebastian flushes, his face darkening with anger. 'It was my only way out. It was the only idea that I could think of.'
Mark listens, not all too patiently, as Sebastian spins his tale of woe. The pertinent details - as far as he can make out - are to do with an arranged marriage, an unsuitable match from a politically suitable family. It's tragic, he's sure, but it doesn't do anything to solve his problem.
'Then just leave. If no one's going to call, no one's going to pay me, then you're not my problem anymore. This isn't a game,' Mark says, finding himself raising his voice as he goes on, frustration beginning to boil over. 'This is my job, my life. I'm not just some way for you to escape your responsibilities.'
Sebastian seems to be holding himself very still, not flinching when Mark spits the words out at him. It's more than Mark would have given him credit for. 'Then you won't stop me if I leave?'
Marks stares at him, unable to find words. Finally, he manages: 'We both know you could have left at any moment.' And it's true, because while Sebastian seems to have a knack for escaping whatever bonds Mark puts on him, he had never made a bid for freedom.
When the door slams shut behind Sebastian, Mark doesn't look up, not once.
-
Not even a day passes before Mark gets the call. 'It's about time,' he says, bitter that it's taken Jenson so long to call.
It's not Jenson on the other end of the line, and a chill goes down his neck. Mark can count the number of people who have this number on one hand, and, whoever this is, it's definitely none of them. Jenson's always managed to blur the lines between Mark's personal and professional life, but he's the exception to the rule. Mostly, he handles business calls through throw away mobile numbers that can't be traced. So just the fact that someone's managed to get hold of his landline number is something that makes Mark feel very on edge.
'You've got something valuable that belongs to us.'
It's such a cliché that Mark can't help rolling his eyes. 'Not anymore.'
'Please don't be offended if we don't take your word for it.' The voice is cool and calculated, as if they're just discussing a business deal and not a person.
Before Mark can think of a comeback, the call is cut off. He swears, tosses the phone across the room and begins to pace, trying to figure out what to do. Starting up in a new city will take time, but he's not sure if he wants to risk sticking around any longer - he's got no idea of exactly what kind of power these people have. Even though Mark's never had any dealings with them before, they've got enough power to find him. So Mark doesn't really want to think about what else they can do.
And now he's on their radar.
So. Running it is.
-
Mark's halfway through packing when there's a knock at his front door. He ignores it, continuing to shove what meagre belongings he has into his bags. He ignores it even when the knocking becomes more insistent. What he doesn't ignore, however, is the the familiar voice hissing his name.
'What the fuck are you doing here?' Mark doesn't give Sebastian a chance to reply before dragging him inside. 'It's too dangerous. I have to leave. Now.' He raises an eyebrow at Sebastian. 'Apparently, your family have decided you're a commodity again. And one worth threatening me over.'
Sebastian winces, but doesn't back away. 'I told you, I needed a way out. I'm not going back.'
'I don't see how that's my problem.'
'I'm coming with you.'
Mark doesn't have the time to explain why that's a terrible idea. When he looks at Sebastian between zipping up his holdall and checking the chamber of his gun, though, there's something in the other man's face that makes him pause.
'I'm coming with you,' Sebastian says again and he's got such eager eyes. With an irritated grunt, Mark realises that arguing is going to get him nowhere. 'It's not a game. Not anymore.'
Sebastian takes a step closer to Mark, and another when he doesn't retreat, approaching him like one would a skittish animal, and then Sebastian's kissing him, careful and slow - almost sweet.
There's another bang on the door, more forceful, more dangerous. Mark stiffens, taking a step back from Sebastian. From the look on Sebastian's face, he understands who is most likely outside the door.
'I'm coming with you,' Sebastian repeats, a smile playing on his lips.
Mark draws away entirely, shoves a weapon into Sebastian's hands and grabs his bag. There's not really time to talk any further about what this means. If he's going to do this - if they're going to do this - he's got no choice but to trust Sebastian. There's no room for second guessing.
'Take the gun, and follow me.'
For: mikaduma
Pairing: Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1966w
Warning: implications of violence.
Summary: The kidnapping itself had gone quite smoothly, but something feels off about it all, leaves a bad taste in Mark's mouth - almost as if it had been too easy, which is a stupid thing to be thinking because dwelling on the past has never helped him before. But still, there's something about the whole thing that Mark can't quite shake off.
Normally, Mark wouldn't be in a situation like this, and he curses Jenson for even suggesting it. He used to have standards - as far as the jobs he took went, at least: never deal with middle men, never let emotions get in the way, never take work home. In the last few months, jobs have been few and far between, and when Jenson had mentioned this job, well - the money had been too good to resist, enough to overlook any doubts about the whole situation. It's not as if Jenson's never led him astray before, but Mark's always trusted him in the grand scale of things. And on paper - kidnapping the son of a wealthy, prestigious family - the job looks like a guaranteed payout. If all went to plan.
So, now Mark's stuck with a teenager in his spare room - a bratty, foul mouthed teenager at that - and it's all Jenson's fault. The kid's still unconscious, and still tied to a chair, which is something. There's a possibility that the aforementioned attitude problem led to Mark knocking him out, but hey, Mark never promised that the kid wouldn't get hurt.
Taking a moment to contemplate what a shit show his life has become, Mark fixes himself a drink. He downs it after a few more seconds of staring into space and pours himself another.
Jenson had been persuasive as ever, insisting that Mark wouldn't even have to kill anybody this time around, that all he needed to do was kidnap a teenager - he wouldn't even have to send out a ransom, Jenson told him, just sit and wait until his employers told him to hand the kid over. It would be a few days at the very most, probably no more than a few hours, no big deal.
The phone isn't ringing yet.
The kidnapping itself had gone quite smoothly, but something feels off about it all, leaves a bad taste in Mark's mouth - almost as if it had been too easy, which is a stupid thing to be thinking because dwelling on the past has never helped him before.
But still, there's something about the whole thing that Mark can't quite shake off.
-
The next morning, Mark wakes up to the smell of something cooking. It smells, well - it's not half bad, actually, and it takes a moment or two of lying there staring at the ceiling before he wakes up enough to realise why this is, in fact, a bad thing.
Sebastian's standing at the cooker in Mark's cramped little kitchen, pouring something into a frying pan. 'There are pancakes on that plate over there,' Sebastian says without looking up.
Abruptly, there are too many questions in Mark's head. How, exactly, had Sebastian gotten free - and why hadn't he left? Why hadn't he taken one of Mark's guns and made a run for it? Why on earth is Sebastian still here, and why is he making Mark breakfast, of all things?
Mark's not sure he even had the ingredients for pancakes before he went to sleep last night. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. It's too early to deal with this shit.
'You can make your own coffee,' Sebastian tells him, yawning as he saunters past.
Mark chooses to take a wary bite of a pancake. He's somewhat annoyed to realise that they're actually kind of good.
-
Sebastian doesn't kick up too much of a fuss when Mark manhandles him back into the spare room, shoving him into a chair before tying his hands, first together, and then to the back of the chair. For good measure, he secures Sebastian's ankles as well, although this does make Sebastian sigh. 'I'm not going to run away.'
'I don't get paid if I don't carry out the job. I can't let you run away.'
'I just told you I'm not going to.'
Mark ignores him, taking no small pleasure in slamming the door as he leaves the room.
He calls Jenson who doesn't have any news for him, and on top of that, is beginning to sound a bit nervous, which doesn't help how Mark's feeling.
'They're refusing to negotiate, and I haven't heard anything from the employers. Maybe-- Maybe this was a mistake,' he says. Mark curses, and Jenson manages a small laugh. 'My thoughts exactly.'
'What the fuck am I meant to do?' Mark asks, irritated beyond belief, and though he keeps telling himself that he never expected anything different; Mark has stuck his neck on the line for Jenson before, so maybe he had expected more from his friend. Coming back to the present, he realises that the line has gone quiet and clears his throat. 'I'm stuck with this kid until they pay up. He's beginning to smell weird.'
Jenson laughs, the sound not entirely unfriendly. 'I'm sure you can overpower one skinny little asshole, Mark,' he says. There's an unspoken apology somewhere in there, but Mark isn't sure he wants to acknowledge it.
-
It turns out Mark's clothes are too big for Sebastian - his sweatpants puddle around his feet if left to their own devices, and all of his t-shirts hang off of him. Sebastian doesn't complain; merely gives Mark a hapless grin - almost as if he's laughing at the whole situation. Sebastian is the only one laughing, Mark thinks, wry and only a little bitter.
Days pass, and Mark caves, winds up buying a couple of sets of cheap clothing in more appropriate sizes for the asshole teenager still taking up residence in his flat.
Sebastian doesn't seem to mind continuing to wear his clothes. As the days turn into weeks, however, something changes: Sebastian becomes more withdrawn, almost despairing, as it becomes ever clearer that the call isn't coming.
'What if nobody calls?' It's not really a question. Sebastian's voice sounds strange, nervous in a way Mark's never heard before. 'Nobody is coming.'
Mark's first instinct is to try to reassure Sebastian. It's probably just his mind playing tricks on him, ignoring everything he knows about Sebastian, only paying attention to that strange tone of voice. 'There's no reason to think that,' he says instead, making sure he sounds suitably dismissive. It feels important that he has no idea that he's getting to Mark.
'You don't understand. Nobody is going to call.'
Mark doesn't bother to ask Sebastian, just raises an eyebrow and waits to see if he'll explain himself.
'I'm the one who set up the job. I'm the one who hired you.'
It sounds so ridiculous that Mark can't - won't - quite believe it. 'You arranged your own kidnapping.'
Sebastian flushes, his face darkening with anger. 'It was my only way out. It was the only idea that I could think of.'
Mark listens, not all too patiently, as Sebastian spins his tale of woe. The pertinent details - as far as he can make out - are to do with an arranged marriage, an unsuitable match from a politically suitable family. It's tragic, he's sure, but it doesn't do anything to solve his problem.
'Then just leave. If no one's going to call, no one's going to pay me, then you're not my problem anymore. This isn't a game,' Mark says, finding himself raising his voice as he goes on, frustration beginning to boil over. 'This is my job, my life. I'm not just some way for you to escape your responsibilities.'
Sebastian seems to be holding himself very still, not flinching when Mark spits the words out at him. It's more than Mark would have given him credit for. 'Then you won't stop me if I leave?'
Marks stares at him, unable to find words. Finally, he manages: 'We both know you could have left at any moment.' And it's true, because while Sebastian seems to have a knack for escaping whatever bonds Mark puts on him, he had never made a bid for freedom.
When the door slams shut behind Sebastian, Mark doesn't look up, not once.
-
Not even a day passes before Mark gets the call. 'It's about time,' he says, bitter that it's taken Jenson so long to call.
It's not Jenson on the other end of the line, and a chill goes down his neck. Mark can count the number of people who have this number on one hand, and, whoever this is, it's definitely none of them. Jenson's always managed to blur the lines between Mark's personal and professional life, but he's the exception to the rule. Mostly, he handles business calls through throw away mobile numbers that can't be traced. So just the fact that someone's managed to get hold of his landline number is something that makes Mark feel very on edge.
'You've got something valuable that belongs to us.'
It's such a cliché that Mark can't help rolling his eyes. 'Not anymore.'
'Please don't be offended if we don't take your word for it.' The voice is cool and calculated, as if they're just discussing a business deal and not a person.
Before Mark can think of a comeback, the call is cut off. He swears, tosses the phone across the room and begins to pace, trying to figure out what to do. Starting up in a new city will take time, but he's not sure if he wants to risk sticking around any longer - he's got no idea of exactly what kind of power these people have. Even though Mark's never had any dealings with them before, they've got enough power to find him. So Mark doesn't really want to think about what else they can do.
And now he's on their radar.
So. Running it is.
-
Mark's halfway through packing when there's a knock at his front door. He ignores it, continuing to shove what meagre belongings he has into his bags. He ignores it even when the knocking becomes more insistent. What he doesn't ignore, however, is the the familiar voice hissing his name.
'What the fuck are you doing here?' Mark doesn't give Sebastian a chance to reply before dragging him inside. 'It's too dangerous. I have to leave. Now.' He raises an eyebrow at Sebastian. 'Apparently, your family have decided you're a commodity again. And one worth threatening me over.'
Sebastian winces, but doesn't back away. 'I told you, I needed a way out. I'm not going back.'
'I don't see how that's my problem.'
'I'm coming with you.'
Mark doesn't have the time to explain why that's a terrible idea. When he looks at Sebastian between zipping up his holdall and checking the chamber of his gun, though, there's something in the other man's face that makes him pause.
'I'm coming with you,' Sebastian says again and he's got such eager eyes. With an irritated grunt, Mark realises that arguing is going to get him nowhere. 'It's not a game. Not anymore.'
Sebastian takes a step closer to Mark, and another when he doesn't retreat, approaching him like one would a skittish animal, and then Sebastian's kissing him, careful and slow - almost sweet.
There's another bang on the door, more forceful, more dangerous. Mark stiffens, taking a step back from Sebastian. From the look on Sebastian's face, he understands who is most likely outside the door.
'I'm coming with you,' Sebastian repeats, a smile playing on his lips.
Mark draws away entirely, shoves a weapon into Sebastian's hands and grabs his bag. There's not really time to talk any further about what this means. If he's going to do this - if they're going to do this - he's got no choice but to trust Sebastian. There's no room for second guessing.
'Take the gun, and follow me.'