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Ryland lags behind as they exit the airport. He prefers to hang back and fade into the background. Not used to having all this attention on him, when it's not that of a classroom of pre-teens at least. As soon as he clears the sliding doors he feels a sudden stab in his thigh. He gasps and looks down to find a dart in his leg. His vision starts to blur as he stumbles. Ryland isn't sure if it's due to the chemical that must be flooding his system or the shock. Carl starts to turn to check on him.
Ryland pitches forward. A shoulder connects with his center as his entire world flips upside down. He doesn't have the faculties left to hear the commotion as he's hauled away.
Tangerine books it into the back of the panel van with Ryland over his shoulder. The second he gets in the back, Lemon hits the gas. It causes Tangerine to lose his balance and unceremoniously drop Ryland at the same time. Tangerine winces on his unconscious companions behalf. Tangerine manages to pull the back doors shut before falling into the side wall of the van as Lemon whips a quick turn.
“Ease up, bruv. We got precious cargo back here,” He calls with annoyance.
“Yeah, whatever, just tie ‘im up already,” Lemon yells back. Tangerine sighs before kneeling down next to Ryland.
“Sorry Love,” Tangerine brushes his hair out of his face and plucks his glasses from his nose. Fuck. The left lens is cracked. Ryland is already going to cross with him. This is just fuel for the fire. He shoves them in his front pocket. There’s a small scrape on his cheek. He runs his thumb over it gently.
The dart still embedded in Ryland's leg gets yanked first. Tangerine pulls a length of rope from behind the front seat and repositions Ryland so his hands are behind him. He binds them together as well as his ankles. He follows that by pulling his handkerchief from his pocket. He wads it up. He gently pries open Ryland's mouth placing the cloth between his teeth. He yanks off his tie and secures that around his mouth by tying it behind his head.
Tangerine runs his hand one last time through his messy blonde hair and gives him a light pat on the cheek. He stands as much as he can in the back of the van, using one hand on the ceiling to help steady himself as he makes his way to the passenger seat.
“All set?” Lemon stays focused on the road as he takes another turn.
“Let's hurry up and get to the rendezvous point,” Tangerine pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up. “No more crazy maneuvers, alright?”
“No promises,” Lemon rolls his eyes, using the controls on his side to crack the window, “You know he doesn't like that shit.” He motions with his head toward the back of the van.
“He ain't awake to care right now,” Tangerine takes a drag exhaling the smoke through his nose. “got plenty else to be mad about anyway, don't ya think?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lemon mutters. He’s not really giving his full attention. Checking the mirrors almost constantly for anyone following them. So far, so good.
“He'll get over it,” Tangerine shrugs and crosses his legs. In all honesty he’s not entirely certain that’s the truth. “It's the job.”
Lemon just hums in response.
Ryland knew what they did for a living to some degree. Tangerine tried to temper it, knowing Ryland was sensitive to violence. His influence had made Tangerine much more reluctant to accept assassination jobs, instead preferring asset retrieval mostly. The occasional kidnapping was also far more frequent in their repertoire. Tangerine wasn't naive enough not to be aware what might happen once someone left their hands, but chose to feign ignorance.
This job had come from an assortment of corporate overlords. Angry with Stratt for breaching copyrights and patents. The clients were smart enough to know they shouldn’t go after Stratt directly. They wanted to send a message by halting her progress with the loss of her leading scientist. Then use him to coerce her into paying for the violations and taking the charges in court. They wanted to make it known that this kind of violation was unacceptable.
It just so happened Tangerine had his own bone to pick with Stratt. She had shown up at Ryland's school and scooped him up with no thought to who might miss him. Tangerine figured kidnapping Ryland from her was more than fair. She started it. Her fault for kidnapping Ryland first really. The bonus of getting paid for it only increased his determination. The clients provided them with a perfect opportunity, using their connections to find out the exact airport, time and date that Stratt would arrive in Seattle. A manifest provided evidence that Ryland would be in tow. That and the fact that they brought only limited security. Two guards that’s all. Honestly one would think Stratt would be more cautious considering her own position. She’s been rocking a lot of boats recently. She had to know she would make some enemies.
Tangerine feels vindicated in his success with snatching up Ryland. It was way too easy. Maybe Stratt will tighten things down after this. As much as he doesn’t want to return Ryland, he’s pretty sure that’s where he’ll end up.
Ryland starts coming to little bits at a time. He still feels a bit groggy. There is a light throb in his thigh where the dart hit him. The next thing he notices is the fact he’s been gagged. He is tempted to make a sound, but he doesn’t know who has him or where he is. He tries to flex his jaw to see if he can loosen it. It doesn’t work. He hates it. It feels so uncomfortable. They are still moving apparently as he can feel the motion of the vehicle hitting bumps in the road. He opens his eyes just a little to look around as best he can without moving too much. He’s curled up on his side in what appears to be a panel van. In front of him is a set of doors at the back of the van. There are no windows from what he can tell. His shoulder aches from being laid on for so long on the hard floor. He’d love to relieve the pressure but his limbs are bound, limiting his ability to move.
The van takes a turn that's a bit rougher than expected and bounces around a bit like the back tire hopped a curb. It jostles him and forces a whimper out of him. The van slows before coming to a stop.
“Huh? Awake already?” A voice, familiar in a way, says from the front. “Bit early but that’s fine.”
Ryland doesn’t want to trust it. Can’t. They know he’s awake now. He starts spiraling with the realization. He misses the sound of the front doors opening. The slam of them shutting sends him into a swirl of panic. His heart racing.
“It’s gonna be fine.”
“Just calm down.”
“If they wanted to kill you they already would have.”
“Stratt won't let anything happen.”
“It'll be okay.”
He tries to console himself and employ logic. The thoughts in his head unknowingly becoming physical as the words are muffled against the cloth in his mouth. It makes them feel useless. His breathing becomes shaky. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He tries to blink them away. It just makes them cling into his eyelashes and blur his vision.
Ryland hears the sound of the back doors opening. Even though he knows it's not going to work he still tries to struggle out of the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. He whimpers in pain at the bite against the skin on his wrists. At best he's only managed to put a little distance between himself and the door. He screws his eyes shut.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep struggling like that, darling,” the voice says the pet name so tenderly, it’s equal parts endearing and disturbing. A pair of hands wrap around his ankles and pull him back toward the door.
Ryland responds with a high pitched whine.
“Cute,” a hand comes to brush away the tears by his eyes with their thumb, before migrating to his jaw a few fingers landing on his pulse point. “No need to panic. Come on, look at me.”
Ryland shakes his head as best as he can with the hand holding his chin. The few “No's” he tries to say don't sound like much.
“Don’t be like that,” they coo. “Let me see those baby blues, love.”
For a kidnapper they are very gentle, all things considered. Nothing they've said has felt taunting. Ryland truly feels a sense of safety with that voice. So similar to his, well they haven’t really put a label on it, but boyfriend seems the closest approximation Ryland can find. Ryland wonders for a brief moment what the heck is wrong with him. He must be a bit off if he is attributing any part of this situation with safety.
Ryland cracks one eye carefully open. As soon as he does he recognizes the face before him. The familiarity was not unfounded. His exclamation of surprise muffled as both his eyes go wide.
It is his maybe, kinda boyfriend. Tangerine. Francis. Or Fran as is his own preference to call him.
“That’s it,” Fran runs a hand through Ryland’s hair. “I’m gonna take a couple pictures to send our clients. You’re already selling the kidnap victim swimmingly, so just keep doing that.”
Fran takes out his phone aiming the camera at him. Ryland looks up at him with furrowed brows. Irritated. Was tying him up really necessary? He holds back his tears out of spite.
“Now come on. What happened to the waterworks?” Fran teases. “That’s fine. Anger works too.” He snaps a half a dozen photos changing angles between them. It seems superfluous. “And a couple for me."
Ah, that explains it. Ryland huffs. He would be pouting if not for the fact that he is still gagged. He tries to express his discontent with a muffled complaint.
“Fine, fine,” Fran crawls over to him, shutting the back doors behind him.
Fran undoes the knot behind his head pulling away the cloth, before reaching down and pulling whatever is wadded up below that. Ryland works his jaw a bit now that the intrusion is gone.
“So what’s the de-” Ryland starts only to be interrupted as Fran turns his head toward him and kisses him. Stealing any questions he had planned on asking from him.
Ryland should be mad, pissed even. He melts anyway. It’s been almost two months since they last saw each other. He missed this. He doesn’t even care that the angle of his neck kind of twinges. Or that his limbs are still inaccessible to him due to the rope around them. He almost feels nostalgic for the taste of smoke.
“You fuckin’-- arsehole– letting yourself– get kidnapped– by that broad,” Fran mumbles the words between kisses, finishing with one to Ryland’s temple.
“Love you, too,” Ryland turns his face away slightly. “Not like I had much choice.” He squirms a bit, trying to relieve the pressure on his shoulder, “Can I have my hands back, please?”
“You've always got a choice,” Fran pulls away, before looking at Ryland somewhat critically. “What happened to the knife I got you for Valentine's day?” he asks as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his own knife.
“And what would I have done with that?” Ryland knows where this is going already. Fran definitely isn’t opposed to using violence as an answer. He’s mellowed a bit and doesn’t tend to push Ryland to feel the same. Ryland likes to think he enjoys that about their dynamic. Fran gets to use his violent streak to protect rather than do harm.
“You could've at least put up a fight? Gave ‘em a run for their money, instead of just getting in the car?” He presses the button on the side of the knife and flips it open.
“She picked me up from school, can't exactly carry a deadly weapon there,” Ryland argues. Fran starts cutting away at the ropes on his wrists. “Not that it stopped Carl from carrying. I didn't really feel like getting shot.”
“You are not going back,” Fran grumbles, indignantly.
Ryland doesn't hesitate to answer, “I have to.” He knows if he considers it his resolve might falter. His work is important. Even if he did have a choice, as Fran seems to insist, he knows he would fold immediately if Stratt came to pick him up again.
“You don’t,” Fran pushes.
“I can’t just ignore this.” The ropes on his wrists begin to loosen. He starts to wiggle a bit.
“Yeah and what is this?” Fran grasps his lower arm right above the rope a bit more firmly. “No squirming, love.”
“I can’t tell you,” Ryland declines. He pouts and changes the subject. “what kind of crazy knot did you tie?”
“Patience,” he scolds. As if to add insult to injury, Fran stops to kiss him on the cheek and chuckles. “The way I see it,” he caresses Ryland’s arm with his thumb, leaning into his space. “You’re tied up in the back of a van,” he nips at his neck lightly. “You can probably spill it. You can say you feared for your life.”
“But I don’t?” Ryland shifts his gaze to Fran's. Fran returns to cutting away at his wrist bindings.
“That’s sweet,” the rope finally falls away. Fran puts his knife away. “You need better self-preservation.”
Ryland wiggles a bit trying to get his arms under him so he can sit up. His wrists and shoulder twinge in pain, making him draw a breath through his teeth. Fran grabs his shoulders and pushes him. Ryland lets Fran manhandle him a bit falling onto his back. Fran straddles his right leg. Ryland almost begins to rub his right wrist with his left hand when Fran takes both and begins to rub circles into them gently with his thumbs.
“Better?” he asks softly after a minute. Ryland nods. They still feel a bit sore, probably will for a while, but it is less compared to before. Fran kisses both of them before letting them go.
Ryland grabs the front of his vest, pulling him closer, “Did you have to tie me up?”
“Had to be convincing if I'm gonna get paid,” He smirks. Ryland knows that it isn’t the whole truth. That to some extent Fran just wanted an opportunity to tie him up. “They’re paying half just for nabbing you. I could make more, but I’m not planning on handing you over.”
“And I thought you were a professional,” Ryland teases. He shivers as Fran’s hand wanders under his cardigan with only the barrier of his t-shirt between his fingers and his ribs. He doesn’t even care that his ankles are still stuck together.
“Nothing professional about this,” Fran whispers into his ear. His breath tickles. He bites down at the junction where his jaw meets his neck. Ryland gasps.
“Fran,” he whines.
“Tangerine. I’m on the job, darling,” Fran teases, smirking down at him.
Ryland raises a brow at him, “Shut up.” He combs a hand up into his hair and yanks a little.
Fran looks at him delighted before letting a devilish grin cross his features. He leans in and roughly kisses him once again. Ryland uses his hand behind his neck to pull him in even more. He feels the cold as Fran pushes his t-shirt up and lets out a shuddering breath. It’s immediately juxtaposed by the caress of a thumb across his cheek hitting what must be a scrape. Fran licks into his mouth from his exhale. Ryland mentally curses the fact that Fran always wears clothes with so many buttons. He instead grabs Fran’s hand away from his face and intertwines their fingers.
Just as he arches his back against Fran raking his nails along his ribs a pounding fist hits the back door. It startles Ryland enough to break their lips apart as he looks up in alarm. Fran growls in frustration and drops his forehead to Ryland’s chest.
“You two decent in there?” Lemon calls from outside the van. Tangerine considers ignoring him and going back to kissing Ryland. It’s not like Lemon hasn’t caught him in the act before. Not with Ryland specifically of course. The point stands.
The same can’t be said for Ryland who looks at the door in such shock, that Tangerine knows the mood has passed. That and he doesn’t need to give more reasons for Ryland to be upset with him.
“Give us a minute,” Tangerine calls back. “It’s just Lemon. Don't worry.”
Ryland starts to prop himself up. Tangerine pulls Ryland’s head back with his hair and takes the opportunity to bite down and suck one last time at Ryland’s neck. Marking his territory in a sense. He’s guessing their accomplice has arrived or is nearby. There’s not much time left.
He removes himself from Ryland. He pulls his knife back out and cuts the ropes at his ankles while Ryland tries to straighten his clothes.
“Where are my glasses?” Ryland asks, reaching up toward his face as if he just realized they haven’t been there.
Tangerine pulls them from his front pocket and hands them over with an apology. Ryland glares at him. It’s half-hearted. He puts the folded glasses into his cardigan pocket. This isn’t the first and most certainly won’t be the last pair he’ll need to replace.
They both look decent enough. Tangerine knows his hair is a bit messed up, but can’t bring himself to mind. Not when the source was his favorite pair of hands. He turns to open one of the back doors and hops out. He offers his arm to help Ryland exit the vehicle. Following that by throwing an arm around his waist.
“He here, Lemon?” Tangerine looks around, seeing no other vehicles. Ryland looks reasonably nervous. “Don’t worry, he’s trustworthy.”
“Soon,” Lemon responds. “Also the client wired us the first half already.”
“Haha, excellent,” Tangerine squeezes Ryland’s waist.
“Whe-where am I going?” Ryland stumbles through his nerves.
“As much as I don’t want to, I know I can’t go against world dictator Eva Stratt,” Tangerine says the title like an insult. “I’m returning you. Well not me personally, doubt that would go well.”
“Really?” Ryland tilts his head slightly.
“It seems important to you, fuck knows why,” Tangerine scoffs. He hates being in the dark. “Either way make sure she knows just how much of a threat we are, alright?”
“Yeah… yeah I can do that,” Ryland looks at the pavement, like its extremely interesting.
The sound of a car pulling into the lot pulls their attention. It skids to a stop in front of them. Ryland looks ready to panic. Tangerine runs his hand up his back to where his shoulder meets his neck, lingering for a moment on his pulse point. The feeling of Ryland’s heart hammering is exhilarating.
The driver’s side door opens. Out steps Six. Ryland brings a hand up to his face to cover his blush from his older brother’s view in theory. It is not that successful. It feels like if Ryland could be swallowed by the earth somehow, he might take the opportunity. Six’s expression is as neutral as it usually is. He scans them one by one, spending the most time on Ryland. His gaze pauses on Ryland’s neck, spotting the obvious hickey left there.
He levels Tangerine with a scathing look, “Really?”
“Couldn’t resist, mate,” Tangerine shrugs.
Six rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns his attention back to Ryland, “Let’s go.”
Tangerine releases the grip on Ryland’s shoulder. As he starts to follow Six, Tangerine grabs his hand and plants a kiss on it, “Stay safe, love.” Before he lets go of Ryland’s hand he pulls his knife from his back pocket. He flips Ryland’s hand palm up and places the knife in his hand, “Hang on to this one, okay?”
Ryland looks at the knife and curls his fingers around it. He smiles softly and mutters a quiet thank you. He turns and takes the few strides to join Six in the car. The car pulls out of the lot.
“You really do got it bad,” Lemon comments. “All sentimental like.”
“Don’t start. I swear I’ll stab you,” Tangerine turns a fiery look on him.
Lemon puts his hands in his pockets, “With what knife?”
“Who says that’s my only one?” Tangerine narrows his eyes disdainfully.
“It was,” Of course Lemon knows his kit.
“Whatever, let’s just get outta here,” Tangerine waves him off and goes to get in the passenger seat.
Tangerine’s phone rings two days later. He’s working on maintenance for his revolver. The pieces strewn across the table in front of him on a towel. He doesn’t recognize the number, but that’s not that unusual given his line of work.
He answers it and puts it on speaker right away to let Lemon listen in, “Who is this?”
“Hello, this is Eva Stratt,” her greeting is as straightforward and dry as Tangerine would expect it to be.
“Oh and to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tangerine lets a little acid enter his voice. He has no reason to play nice with Stratt.
“I have an opportunity for you,” she offers.
Tangerine hums with interest, “Does this opportunity involve money?”
“Of course,” Stratt confirms. “I’d like to contract you and your brother for a protection detail.”
“Not normally our thing,” Tangerine responds, hoping to get her to try a bit harder. He isn’t just going to give her whatever she wants. He looks at Lemon. Lemon shrugs at him.
“I know, but I think you’ll take this job,” Her tone, knowing in a way that disturbs Tangerine. “Your successful kidnapping showed us that we have underestimated the need for security. Especially for some of our most important assets.”
“Still not convinced,” Tangerine really wants her to work for it.
“I understand you are familiar with the person,” and if that isn’t intriguing. Taking the job would mean proximity in theory to Ryland regardless, but this sounds like it might be even better than that.
“Just spit it out,” he expresses his impatience.
“You’d be contracted to protect our lead scientist, Ryland Grace,” and there it is. She should’ve started with that. Tangerine looks at Lemon. They have a silent conversation consisting of raised brows and head tilts. They leave the dead air for Stratt to sit through.
Lemon is on board. Tangerine returns to the call.
“Very well. When do we start?”