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Sebastian checked the time on his mobile as he waited for his brother at the bar. It was a different pub than their usual spot (so that they wouldn’t run into any familiar faces), and the sniper didn’t quite like the drink he had been poured. He took tentative sips as he waited. Finally his brother came in, selecting a seat next to him at the barside.
“Finally,” Sebastian chided playfully, grinning slightly and slapping his brother on the shoulder. He hoped his stupid grin didn't give away how eager he was. A night of catching up, culminating in the reveal of his big plan to marry Jim in secret.
“It was a long walk,” Severin shrugged.
The two got to work on their pints, sipping and sharing a few jokes before they got into the meat of the matter.
Of course, they never really did get into the meat of it.
About halfway into their first drinks, several hands grabbed Sebastian from behind, pulling him from his chair and off to the floor. For just a fleeting moment, Sebastian could see that it was none other than his own fucking men—all giggles and grins—before a cloth sack was pulled unceremoniously over his head. He couldn’t see a damn thing, save for vague shadows, and all around the pub he heard the laughter of his inferiors and random pub-goers alike.
Jesus everloving Christ.
The sniper kicked and thrashed, shouting profanities and threatening to fire all their arses if they didn’t cut whatever fuckery this was.
Quite quickly, they managed to tie his hands and feet with rope (he wasn’t sure if he should be proud of how effectively they managed it, or pissed that he ever taught them in the first place). He was hoisted up into the air (a very harrowing experience for a man his size) and carried from the pub to many shouts and cheers.
At least they had the courtesy to do it all before he got piss-drunk.
To ensure a comfortable ride, they stuffed Sebastian in the boot of the car so that all five of them would fit easily in the vehicle as they drove off, howling and giddy with laughter.
Damn, those bastards didn’t leave one thing back there that Sebastian could use to free himself. Usually the standards for boots were pretty lax, considering most men stuffed back there were already deceased. This time, though, they Sebastian-proofed it. The only thing he could do, really, was scratch at the walls. Uncharacteristically, he wasn’t too keen on making a big escape. Might as well see where this was going, give them his dignity just this once, and take theirs all away in a manner ten times crueler at a later date.
Sebastian protested much less on the second go at being lifted. He was disoriented, but still had a general idea of the area they were in. Through the scratchy cloth over his head, he could see a distinct purple hue saturating their new environment, and the sound of raunchy music at a distance.
His fears were confirmed when the sack was ripped off of his head, revealing a (very well-to-do) strip club.
“Oh no,” Sebastian protested. He began to kick and thrash in his restraints. “Put me back in the boot, lads, I really shouldn’t be doing this—“
“Why?” Flannigan interrupted, his face as bright and cheery as ever. The dim lighting made his face look nearly ten years younger, or perhaps it was the blonde currently on stage. “Don’t say Jim, laddie.”
“Well, yeah,” Sebastian snapped. He did his best to remain gruff and very technical over the matter. “He’s my fucking boss. And yours too.”
“So?” he continued. “You’re a single man, now. Time to act like it. We knew you were probably feeling pretty down about being dumped by the Big Man, so Severin came up with the idea to take you out so you can have a good time. Remind you of what it’s like to be free, and all.”
Ah, the lie. A beautiful thing, really, until it’s used against you in the most ironic of ways. Something in the way Severin smiled at him made Sebastian want to see his teeth on the floor. But he managed to remain calm.
“My work relationship with Moriarty is still pretty shaky,” he said icily. “I don’t think I’d improve it by spending a night at the strip clubs. I’m his fucking live-in. I work twenty-four, seven.”
“He gave you clearance to see me at the pub, didn’t he?” Severin inquired with an infuriating smirk. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oops. The pub was closed," he drawled. "Flooding issues. This was the closest venue to it.” He gave a wink and was met with several guffaws from the other men.
“Come on, Seb,” Jesse piped up. He had been holding the man’s left arm in a tight grip, half-supporting him, half-restraining. “Have some fun for once.”
The men all broke into various pleas for Sebastian to lighten up and accept the fun night planned for him. Finally Severin broke it all up, ordering the men to undo his restraints.
“Let me have a private discussion with my brother,” he ordered. “Jesse—you go get us some drinks. The rest of you go find us a table or two close to the stage.”
As Sebastian was released, he rubbed at his wrists, glaring at each and every man before following his twin with a scowl. They walked just around the corner, to an area just in front of the kitchen, relatively untouched by the purple and red lighting and the sounds of whistles and cat calls.
“So, when were you going to tell me about the wedding, baby brother?” Severin said simply, his expression one of self-satisfaction.
"You knew?" Sebastian asked, utterly shocked. His face contorted in anger and worry. Surely if Severin knew, the rest of the boys did? They couldn't keep a secret among themselves, the lot of them always clucking like hens over their drinks.
"Relax, Sebby. I'm your brother, aren't I? More than that, m'your twin, I know these sorts of things."
Sebastian stared skeptically at his brother, his arms slowly crossing over his chest. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that shit,” he said calmly.
Severin shrugged casually. “Don’t get mad at me, Sebby. You’re the one who gave me my bag back just reeking of James. If you’re going to borrow my clothes, don’t fuck your fiancé in them, yeah?”
Sebastian flushed a deep shade of red and let out an indignant huff before turning away. “I didn’t have sex in your clothes.”
“We’ll, I was hoping you’d’ve taken them off first.”
“I wasn’t fucking Jim period, yeah? None. We’re done, just like I told you.”
“Is that why you still wear that ring around your neck?” Severin asked dryly. “And why the only bruises on your body are ones that were clearly given out as presents and not punishments?”
“How the fuck do you know about the bruises?” Sebastian asked in mild surprise. He thought back to any instance where they could have been revealed in the first place, and his mind immediately flew to one of their wilder outings the other week. Sebastian barely remembered a thing the next morning, and was forced to rely on the little evidence he could find to fill in the blank spaces. Going on the fact that he woke up on his brother's floor in nothing but his trousers and a leather jacket, he cringed to think that it was not the most dignified of nights.
“I’m very observant," Severin said, drawing the sniper from his speculation. "Come on, Seb. After dad, you think I can’t tell a belt-bruise from a fucking love-bite?” He shook his head. “It’s insulting, really. I know when you keep secrets. I know you two are tying the knot, so I decided to throw you a secret stag party.” His face cracked into a huge smile, just fucking beaming with pride.
“Jesus Christ,” Sebastian said. “Is that what all this is? No one else knows?”
“No, of course not. Jesus, I don’t want you to hate me, Seb. I can keep your secret. I just wanted to give you a little fun before the big day…” He pursed his lips. “When exactly is the big day?”
Sebastian hesitated. At this point, he couldn’t really deny it, could he?
“Sunday,” he admitted.
“Shit!”
“Oi! Shut the fuck up, yeah? It’s just gonna be a real quiet thing…”
“So quiet you weren’t going to tell me,” Severin sniffed in annoyance.
“Christ, don’t be so tetchy, yeah? I was going to ask you to be our witness tonight, until you fuckin’ kidnapped me and dragged me into an impromptu strip club party.”
“Oh, come off it. Don’t act like you’re not loving this, eh?” He nudged his brother with his elbow, to which Sebastian only glared.
“Jim’s gonna beat the shit out of me.”
“You’d probably love that, too.”
Slowly, Sebastian’s scowl fell and, with a bit of goofy prompting and nudging from his brother, a smile formed on his face.
“Okay, fine,” Sebastian finally admitted. “This is pretty damn...unexpected. A stag party—never thought I’d get one of those.”
“No?”
“I’ve been pushing for a more traditional route,” Sebastian shrugged. “But Jim’s the Boss, yeah? If he wants to keep it all a secret, I just gotta learn to see the good things in it—I mean, I can’t complain, can I?”
Severin’s eyes combed over a woman with skimpy clothes and no shortage of curves as she passed, holding a tray of emptied glasses.
“Mmm,” he said, smiling wolfishly. Fuck, Sebastian thought. He hoped to Christ that he never looked so blatantly graceless when appreciating a fine figure.
“Well, James gets his way all the time,” Severin said, snapping back into the conversation. “This night is for you, baby brother. Just drink and smoke and accept a few lap dances, for Chrissakes.”
Sebastian’s face remained skeptical.
“Jesus fuck,” Severin sighed, rolling his eyes. He grabbed Sebastian’s wrist and began to drag him toward the stage, where their men were all sitting and laughing as they waited for the party to begin. “Here’s my instructions for you, okay? Have a few drinks, smoke a cigar, and let a few dancers sit on your lap. And in the morning? You go and tell good old Jimmy that I forced you to do every damn thing. And I’ll gladly take the punishment. Oh, and try to ignore the camera—Dmitri is documenting the event tonight.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”