#knivestothroats

Fletcher opened the door, wiping their feet on the mat. They almost called for Buck out of habit, but then remembered he had been locked in his room. The kitchen table was empty except for a mostly-empty bowl with a spoon, and a porcelain hot plate pad. 

Okay, so they must have found the key.

They checked Buck’s room anyways. The door was halfway open, no Buck inside. 

Fletcher padded into the community room, where Dayal and Petrova were watching a movie, enjoying their day off. 

“Where’s Buck?”

Dayal acknowledged them, but Petrova responded without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Taking a bath.”

“In the bathroom by his room?”

“Yes.”

“Is he conscious?”

Petrova shrugged, and Dayal smirked.

“If you killed him, you’re doing his yardwork.”

Dayal scowled but Petrova didn’t react, and Fletcher walked back to the bathroom. The door was cracked open, like it had only lightly started to swing shut rather than intended to be kept either open or closed.  They knocked lightly on the door, and when there was no response, they swung the door open.

Buck was taking a bath, yes, but fully clothed, except for a shirt ripped open over a chest covered in fading bruises and a collection of fresh burns. His nose was busted, half-dried blood trickling down into the water and dissolving in little pink swirls.

“Buck?”

He didn’t respond, and Fletcher stepped closer. There was a battery sitting on the closed toilet seat, and a pair of clamps detached and abandoned on the floor beside it. 

Fletcher pushed their sleeve up and reached down, touching Buck’s neck. There was definitely a pulse there, and at their touch Buck stirred, opening his swollen eyes puffy from crying, and groaning wordlessly.

There was a knock behind them.

“Hey, did they have my deodorant in stock?”

Fletcher turned around, O’Connor standing in the doorway looking none-too-surprised by Buck’s state.

“No, I picked a different one, but it’s still lavender. What did you all do to Buck this time?”

“We did an experiment, dry electrocution VS wet. I took notes.”

Fletcher sighed, pushing their sleeve back down to their wrist.

“And what was your conclusion?”

“Can’t be too sure since we did them back to back, but Buck could take way more in the kitchen than he could in the tub. We had to stop before we were even halfway done.”

Fletcher hummed. 

“Alright, well, you and the others are going to have to put groceries away, now that I have to tend to this one. If he gets sick, I’m blaming all of you.”

O’Connor shrugged. “We unbound him and filled it with warm water once we were done, he should be fine.”

Fletcher dismissed her to go unload groceries with the others and looked down at Buck with a sigh. 

“Alright, well, don’t want the water to get too cold, do we?”

They reached down, sacrificing their shirt to get wet, and grabbed Buck under the arms. The water was already cool, but hopefully he wouldn’t catch a chill. They pulled him to sit up, then grabbed one of his arms and pulled it around their shoulder, lifting him slowly to a standing position. 

“Come on. Can you walk?”

Buck made an uncertain noise, but did try to get his feet under him. He was shaky and still had to lean heavily on Fletcher, but they managed to walk him back to his room.

They dropped Buck on the bed and pulled their pocket knife, allowing themselves a momentary rush as Buck’s eyes saw it and widened. 

“No-”

“You ever tried to pull wet jeans off of someone? Hold still.”

Buck looked anxious but didn’t protest when Fletcher cut the last tatters of his shirt off and pulled them out from underneath him, tossing them into a heap on the floor. 

Buck whined when they started on his pants, the razor’s edge of the knife making quick work of the side seam. Down the same on his other side, and Fletcher pulled them free. Buck’s shaky hands fluttered to cover himself, his wet underwear leaving little to the imagination.

Fletcher rolled their eyes.

“You seriously want to keep those on?”

Buck nodded weakly and Fletcher sighed.

“Alright, well, you can rest for a bit. I’ll…. tuck you in here, I guess.”

Fletcher pulled the covers out from under Buck with a little jostling, until they were able to peel them to the side.

“Why?”

Fletcher glanced back up, catching Buck’s eyes on them. They watered with fresh tears and he looked so genuinely distraught Fletcher had to suppress a laugh.

“So you don’t catch a cold, dummy.”

“No. Why...did you lie?”

Fletcher sighed, exasperated, and pulled back, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What, the key?”

“You could have just said no. Why didn’t you just tell me no? Did you just….have to get my hopes up? Is it not enough to hurt me every other way anymore?”

“Spare me the theatrics, I just forgot it, okay?”

“I thought I could trust your word, at least.”

Fletcher hated how that made them feel.

“It was a simple mistake, I hardly think that makes me untrustworthy.”

Fletcher had seen Buck hurt a million times over in a million different ways, but Buck had never, ever looked at them with a look so profoundly wounded.

They rubbed the back of their neck. The tiny nag of...not guilt, but, close, was being swallowed up by a general feeling of being pissed off. 

“Okay, yeah. It was...kind of a dick move. You asked me nicely, and I did tell you yes. If it had been intentional, that would have been pretty shitty.”

With some effort, Buck rolled onto his side, his back to Fletcher, still sitting by his legs.

“Please, please just let me sleep.”

Fletcher felt angry. They wanted to stand up and walk out and leave Buck to his little pity party. 

They felt really angry that they didn’t want to do that.

With a sigh, they pushed their wet sleeves back up, prickling with irritation.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry you couldn’t trust me this one time.”

Buck didn’t respond. 

“Are you going to mope about this all week?”

Buck closed his eyes, a defeated look on his face. His voice was low when he murmured back.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Fletcher replied automatically.

“I mean...look, I just don’t want you pouting about this. It’s really fucking annoying.”

Buck looked somehow sadder, and Fletcher thought they’d seen few things so pathetic.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Buck’s eyes flicked over to theirs again. That got his attention.

“You feel bad, because of me, sort of. So just… just try to relax.”

Fletcher’s hand caught his hip, and in one smooth motion, they caught the tip of their blade under the side of his boxers, splitting them.

“What-” Buck startled, immediately scrambling to cover himself, but Fletcher pushed his hip back to force him to lay back against the mattress.

“F- Fletcher, what are you-”

“You feel bad, so, this will feel good. You better enjoy it, because it won’t be happening again.”

Fletcher tugged the last of Buck’s modesty out of the way, and he hated how pathetic he sounded when he squeaked, too weak to fend them off. Fletcher kneeled on the bed, straddling one of his thighs to pin him back with his legs spread. They reached behind themselves, pulling something else from their pocket, and produced a small bottle.

Buck didn’t know what it was until Fletcher uncapped it, squeezing out a line of it onto their finger.

“What the - what the fuck-” Buck breathed, squirming weakly underneath them.

“Relax, it’s lube.”

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“Seriously, relax, I got it for your scars. Best way to get silicone into your skin. Though it does have other uses, of course.”

Buck keened in distress when Fletcher’s hand closed around his cock, gently stroking him.

The lube was cold but Fletcher’s hand was very warm, and after so long without any intimacy, Buck felt unbearably sensitive to their touch.

Buck’s mind was already reeling from a miserable day of torture, and this development proved to be too much for him. He clasped his hands over his mouth, trying to suppress his soft sounds even as Fletcher easily coaxed him to erection.

Fletcher sighed and stopped, scooching down Buck’s leg a little, their legs folded underneath them. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts, ‘cause seriously, never again.”

“What-” Fletcher crawled forwards, gripping his cock in their hand and in one smooth motion, leaned down and licked a stripe from base to tip.

They failed to suppress a smile against Buck’s indignant squeak.

They sucked the head into their mouth, ignoring the bittersweet taste of the lube, and hollowing out their cheeks as they sucked him in a few inches.

For a moment Buck imagined Fletcher biting down, severing his flesh and smirking at him with blood down their chin, and his stomach churned. Before he could unfreeze from his fear though, Fletcher pressed his cock deeper in their mouth and sucked.

Buck keened, his shaky hands fluttering anxiously in Fletcher’s periphery.

“Fuck, fuck, what-” Fletcher pulled off with a little pop of their lips.

“If your hands touch my head, I’m cutting them off. Just lay back and enjoy.”

Buck gave a wordless whimper, his hands falling down to his sides.

Fletcher returned to their ministrations, rubbing the tip of their tongue on the sensitive spot under the head of his cock, making him mewl. 

“F-FFuuuuccckkk-” Buck gasped, his hands curling into fists in the sheets at his sides.

This was wrong, this felt so wrong, but fuck, he was so exhausted, he had no energy to fight, he had spent every minute of his imprisonment here in pain, and Fletcher’s mouth was so warm and soft, and he so desperately just wanted to feel good again, even a little bit, even just for a moment…. 

Fletcher hummed around their mouthful and Buck whimpered as they took most of him in.

Quietly, Fletcher delighted in Buck’s little sounds. His busted nose meant he couldn’t breathe except through his mouth, so he couldn’t stifle the pathetic little moans and whimpers Fletcher drew out of him. Buck’s thighs trembled beneath him, and he was making such sweet little gasps and sobs of pleasure. Fletcher was pleased to learn Buck largely made the same noises being pleasured as he did being tortured.

Buck felt Fletcher’s hand stray underneath him, and he flinched when he felt Fletcher’s still-lubed finger press against his opening.

“W-wait- f-fuck, fuck-” Buck couldn’t form a coherant thought before Fletcher pushed a finger inside of him. He gasped, and Fletcher took his moment of surprise away from him, pushing his cock into the back of their throat. His thighs seized under Fletcher’s other hand and they felt it, indulging themselves by digging their fingernails hard into the sensitive skin there. Buck cried out in pain at that, and Fletcher used the momentary distraction to push another finger into him. Buck choked off a harsh moan and Fletcher backed off to tease the head with their tongue while they started moving their fingers inside him, gently scissoring them to stretch him open. 

The sound Buck made sounded - familiar, when had they heard it? 

When he was cut particularly deep, that was about the same sound he made.

 They grinned around their mouthful and prodded a third finger in. Buck was gasping and panting, desperate breathy moans with every breath he let out. His hips twitched underneath Fletcher, wanting to buck forwards into their mouth, wanting to press back on their fingers, wanting and needing and being too damn tired and scared to do anything about it. Fletcher pushed their fingers as deep as they could and then pulled back, pushing back in and letting their fingertips brush against his prostate. Buck’s thighs were trembling so terribly they thought the poor boy might faint. 

Fletcher rubbed the pads of their fingers against his prostate and sucked his cock down nearly to the root. At the same time, they dug their fingernails deep into his hip and raked them down his thigh hard enough to split the skin. Buck screamed, the pleasure becoming too much for him even as his scratches welled with blood. He tipped his head back, crying out as Fletcher swallowed around him, their fingers fucking him mercilessly through his orgasm. He shuddered with the aftershocks, his whimpers turning to whines of discomfort as Fletcher pushed him past oversensitivity. 

Fletcher pulled away, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand.

“That was fast. I guess it’s been a while though, huh?”

Buck flushed in shame, his hands reaching up to cover his face, and he turned onto his side, shuddering. Fletcher chuckled, giving him a pat on the ass that he flinched at like an abused puppy.

“There, we’re even, and I don’t want to hear about this shit again. Be up in time for dinner dishes.”

With shaking hands, Buck tugged his blankets over himself, trembling with exhaustion. Somehow he felt...used, even though it was supposed to be a treat. 

“Really? Bad manners, Buck. What do we say?”

Buck’s thigh throbbed where the cuts oozed blood. 

“Th-thank you..”

Fletcher smirked, the glint in their eyes the same Buck saw every time they hurt him.

“That’a boy. Sleep tight...” They closed the door behind them.

Buck leaned over the bathroom counter, inspecting the cut beside his eye. The healing process was slow, but Fletcher had given him some antibiotic ointment, and it did seem to help.

“Don’t get an infection,” Fletcher had said, handing him the tube before returning to unpacking groceries.

“I won’t play nurse.”

“Don’t you already?” Buck joked weakly. Fletcher put him back together almost as often as they broke him.

Fletcher pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bag and waggled it at Buck, a smirk playing at their lips.

“Only when it still makes you squirm.”

Buck swallowed hard, and returned to helping unpack in silence.

Buck tugged a flake of scab along the wound, biting his lip as he peeled it back. Underneath it was no longer bloody, but a sensitive pink scar of fresh skin, and he sighed in relief.

A sharp rap on the bathroom door made him jump.

“Uh, be out in-in a moment!” He called, then cursed under his breath, scrambling to clean up.

When he stepped out, he didn’t see anyone waiting for him, but he did hear Fletcher call him from the kitchen.

He followed dutifully and found Fletcher over the stove, dressing a baking sheet of blackened chicken. 

“Yes?”

Fletcher glanced up. 

“Start on dishes, keep the kitchen clean while I’m working.”

Buck nodded and turned to the sink, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and starting the water.

Somewhere deep, deep down, Fletcher indulged in the quiet companionship of sharing the kitchen with Buck.

They worked silently for a while, until Buck cleared his throat.

“So um...you like to cook?”

Fletcher was sorting ingredients for an aioli, and quirked an eyebrow behind Buck’s back.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Cool,” Buck replied lamely. He wasn’t sure what he liked less, having to keep his back to Fletcher where he couldn’t see what they might do, or facing them and having to look at his captor.

“So, um...when are you going on another supply run?” Buck tried to sound casual, but he felt anxiety curl in his stomach.

“Planning an escape?” Fletcher’s voice was suddenly so much closer than before and Buck jumped, dropping the bowl he was rinsing back into the sink. 

“No, I don’t think that would...work.” It was an honest answer.

Fletcher waited.

“I just...I was going to make a um, a request, if that’s okay.”

“Oh?”

“Strawberries.” Buck blurted out. “And...scar cream...please?”

Fletcher hummed, and Buck could hear them sliding the baking tray into the oven.

“Scar cream, hmm?”

Damnit. Buck kicked himself internally. He didn’t know why he had thought adding fruit would help.

“Yeah. If...that’s okay.” He tried to squash the anger and frustration that rose like bile at having to beg for care. 

“Why? I think they suit you.”

Buck startled again when a hand touched the side of his face, tucking his hair back behind his ear to expose his scar. Damn Fletcher and every other assassin in this house that walked without making sound.

“They usually don’t fade all the way anyways…” Buck grumbled.

“So no need to bother.”

Buck bit his lip. He had been hoping he wouldn’t have to try this. He made himself turn and face Fletcher.

“Blank canvas for you though, right?”

Fletcher paused, seeming to consider this for a moment. They were too smart to not realize they were being manipulated, it wasn’t exactly underhanded, but it still ignited a familiar spark in their eyes, and Buck felt hopeful.

Fletcher faced them then, their hands going up to cup his face and he went rigid, uncertain of how to react. Their hands turned his head to one side, then another, inspecting him, and then glancing down to ponder the bruised lacerations yellowing along his arms. 

“Maybe.” Fletcher decreed, dropping their hands and returning to cooking like nothing had happened. Buck sighed to himself and turned back to doing dishes. He guessed it was better than an outright no.

They made it almost to 200 volts before O’Connor called it. Buck had become largely non-responsive by 120 volts, other than moans and whimpers of pain. A cup of water was pressed to his lips, and with some concentration, Buck managed to take a few sips.

He was surprised when he felt his bindings being removed, but didn’t have the will to even stand up. He was even more surprised when Dayal set a small bowl of scrambled eggs in front of him. He’d thought he might have smelled something, but had only had an idle thought that it might be his chest.

“Eat. We don’t want you loopy for the rest of the day.”

Buck was feeling more nauseous than hungry after his ordeal, but after it was made clear it wasn’t a choice, he stomached a few mouthfuls. With that and a glass of lemonade, he was admittedly feeling a bit better. 

“Alright then. Are we ready for water trials?” Dayal rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“We shouldn’t have fed him,” Petrova complained. “If he throws up, I’m not touching it.”

“We needed him to be closer to his baseline, otherwise the data will be off,” O’Connor argued. 

Buck could feel sweat beading on his temple. He didn’t know what the water trials were, and he didn’t want to know. 

He mustered all his strength to rise to his feet, pushing his chair back, and making a run for it. When he actually moved to do it, his numb legs didn’t work as fast as his brain told them to, and he tripped over himself, falling to the kitchen floor. Before he could get his arms underneath him they were pulled back again, handcuffs clicking shut around his burnt wrists, and the familiar ripping sound of duck tape unspooled all too close. 

“Does the tub need to be warm or cold?” De Luca had removed his gloves and had his sleeves rolled up.

“Why would it matter?” Petrova asked snidely.

“I dunno, does the water get hot when you shock it? I feel like it would.” De Luca looked a little sheepish.

“So wait, then let’s start with cold water, right?” Dayal sounded confused.

“Preferably the water would be the same temperature for each trial to establish a constant, is there a thermometer anywhere?” O’Connor looked thoughtful.

“I think we could just kinda measure it by feel, or ask Buck.” De Luca crossed his arms.

“You’re all idiots.” Petrova sighed and grabbed Buck’s shoulders, pushing him onto his side before hauling him to his feet. He stumbled, and his feet felt far, far below him, but Petrova shoved him down the hall and into the bathroom, where De Luca had retreated to and was filling the tub.

Buck thrashed with all his might, but it felt slow and heavy, and Petrova handled him with little difficulty. She gave him a final shove to the bath and he tripped over the side, smashing his nose against the shower wall before falling into the tub with a splash. Dayal immediately grabbed him, turning him onto his back in the water. It was icy cold and Buck felt like he couldn’t force his lungs to take in a breath. After some sputtering he managed, and choked on a painful gasp.

“Same experiment, this time in water. I’m betting it’ll hurt more.”

“I think he’ll be out after the first zap.”

“Care to make it a wager?”

They bickered amongst themselves while Petrova set up the battery beside the bath. 

“I can just kind of...dip them in water, like fishing, right?” She held up the clamps by their chords a few feet up.

“I’d wear the gloves anyway, just in case.”

She nodded and slid them on. 

“Please don’t do this, please, I can’t take-”

Dayal loomed over him, dangling the dish towel above his face with a wide grin.

“No more of that.”

Buck tried to turn his head away but was gagged again. 

“Start super slow, I’m not about to start doing dishes shifts again.”

“Where did we start last time?”

O’Connor flicked back a couple pages on her little notepad. 

“9 volts. That should be fine.”

De Luca adjusted the voltmeter again and Petrova lowered the clamps over the water.

“Try to think about if this hurts more, less, or the same as when we did 9 volts last time.” O’Connor instructed, before a nod to Petrova.

“Water trial, take one….action.”

Buck did his best, but he was easily captured by Petrova and the others. He screamed into his pillow while they bound his arms behind him, tape wrapped in a thick layer from his wrists to his elbows, wrenching his shoulders back painfully and holding them there. 

Scared, angry tears wet the pillow beneath him as he sobbed. As ridiculous as it was, all he could think about was how incredibly betrayed he felt. He had asked Fletcher nicely, Fletcher had agreed, locked him in, and then...what, gave them the key anyways? Fletcher could do whatever they wanted to to him with absolutely no repercussions, why even bother lying to him? Whenever he thought he might have a clue about Fletcher, they turned around and confused him all over again. Buck seemed to always be wrong about them - and it always got him hurt.

Dayal finished binding him, straddling his ass in the bed and enjoying the humiliating position a little too much. He ground his hips against Buck’s ass, making the prone man whimper into his bed.

“Come on Buck, don’t you wanna play?”

Buck felt hands sink into the mattress on both sides as Dayal leaned in, nuzzling into his hair, before Petrova swatted him.

“No time for that, we have experiment to do.”

Dayal chuckled but pulled away, hopping off Buck.

“Another time then, if you’re lucky.”

“Gross,” De Luca commented helpfully. 

“Shut up and help me.” 

In their greatest display of teamwork yet, they dragged a squirming Buck out of the room and all the way into the kitchen.

Buck was already getting tired from fighting, but his vigor renewed when he saw the car battery on the table.

He almost got away for a moment, trying to scramble to his feet to run, but a hard kick to the crotch brought him back to the ground.

“Nice,” said Petrova.

“Thanks,” O’Connor replied, a little proud.

They cuffed him to one of the sturdier wooden chairs, sat beside the car battery on the table. A pair of metal clamps were already attached to the battery, the other end resting on a ceramic heat pad, the kind you put a hot pot onto so it doesn’t damage the table. Buck almost laughed at the absurdity, but was quickly distracted by De Luca putting on a pair of thick gloves.

“Okay Buck, we are going to shock you now, and you tell us how you feel, okay?”

“Start low, if we start too high he won’t be any good for us,” O’Connor instructed, flipping open a small notebook and producing a pen.

De Luca picked up the clamps, opening and closing them absently for a moment in thought.

“Should we put a wallet in his mouth or something? Can’t he bite his tongue?” 

“Eh, I think that’s for seizures,” Dayal replied.

“What’s the difference?” Perova interjected, her eyebrows quirked.

“You know, you’re not actually supposed to put a wallet in someone’s mouth if they’re having a seizure? You’re just supposed to hold them still on the ground and like, cradle their head, kinda.” O’Connor mused, nibbling the tip of her pen.

“Well, if he bites off his tongue, Fletcher might get mad.” De Luca looked at Buck seemingly deep in thought. 

“I think we should do it just in case, just when I’m shocking him.”

“Well I’m not putting my wallet in his mouth, he’ll drool all over it.”

“Dayal could volunteer his dick,” De Luca mused, and Dayal flipped him off from across the table.

“Just use a dishcloth or something, let’s do this.” Perova sounded exasperated. 

Dayal hopped up and grabbed the dish towel from the handle of the oven, holding it taught between his fists like a garroting wire as he walked towards Buck, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“Open up, Buckaroo.”

Buck, who had largely been in shock, finally started to process what was about to happen and moaned in fear as Dayal approached.

“No, please, come on - did Fletcher put you up to this? You can - can’t you look this stuff up online?!”

He resisted opening his mouth for Dayal, who shrugged to their little audience before freeing a hand, pinching the soft spots of Buck’s jaw in one hand to force it open. Buck hissed in pain but couldn’t resist, and as soon as his mouth cracked open Dayal stuffed it full of dish towel until he gagged.

“You’ll keep that there if you know what’s good for you.”

Buck just moaned, tears trickling down the sides of his face. His mouth was stuffed too full, his teeth forced apart, and it hurt his jaw. He tried to move it a little with his tongue to a more comfortable position, but it only made him choke.

“Start low, only like, 9 Volts.” 

O’Connor scribbled it down, and looked up expectantly at De Luca, who adjusted the voltmeter.

Buck screamed into his gag when De Luca held up a knife, but he just rolled his eyes and split Buck’s shirt down the middle, exposing him. With his shoulders forced back, Buck was arched forward, and he felt unbearably vulnerable.

Dayal picked up the clamps, touching them together to produce a small spark that made Buck flinch.

“Uhh...take one, I guess.” He touched the clamps to Buck’s chest and he jerked, forcing out a cry into his makeshift gag, and after a moment the clamps were pulled away. Dayal pulled the gag back out, letting him take in a shaky breath.

“How did that feel? Also, on a scale of one to ten, how much did that hurt?”

Buck flexed his sore jaw, trying to will his frantic heartbeat to slow.

“Come on Buck, don’t be a bitch about it.” De Luca rolled his eyes.

Buck stayed silent. He didn’t want to participate in their little experiment any more than he already had to.

Petrova tapped her fingers on the table impatiently.

“You know Buck, if you not tell us, then we can skip to higher voltages.”

Buck swallowed, his mouth impossibly dry.

“It was...uncomfortable, not so much very painful but very...unpleasant,” Buck closed his eyes, fighting back a sob.

O’Connor scribbled down a note and then looked up, nodding to De Luca. 

“Let’s try 12 next.”

Buck opened his mouth to protest, but Dayal took the opportunity and stuffed the towel back in. De Luca adjusted the voltage again and pressed the clamps to Buck’s chest with little flourish. 

Buck jolted hard, squeezing his eyes shut hard. Every muscle in his body tightened painfully and buzzed, and there was a hot pain where the clamps touched him. When they pulled away and the towel was removed, he opened his eyes again, blinking painful tears from them

“How did that feel?”

Buck’s body felt weak and twitchy. It was deeply uncomfortable, and he pressed his feet hard against the floor just to try to get some feeling in them.

“Buck.”

“Tingles...tingly? It hurts….my muscles are going...weak.” Trying to talk made his teeth feel like they were buzzing.

He could hear O’Connor’s pen scratching across the paper.

“And on a scale of one to ten?”

“Could I get some water?” His mouth was so dry.

“One to ten, then you can have some water.”

“Ten like….worst pain ever?”

O’Connor tapped the end of her pen against her lips. 

“Hmm...ten like, I would tell you anything you wanted to know to get you to stop.”

“Ten.”

De Luca snorted and Petrova rolled her eyes.

“Ten like, I’d rather get stabbed than do that again. And that is real choice,” Petrova offered. 

Buck shut his eyes tight until he thought he could see little flashes of light behind them.

“F...five, maybe?”

Petrova nodded and a cup of water was tipped to his lips, making him splutter at first before he drank deeply. He emptied it and whined when Dayal took the cup away.

“You’ll get another once you take 120.”

De Luca prodded at Buck’s chest with a gloved finger, making him gasp in pain.

“He’s pretty pinked here, a decent burn. Might blister.”

O’Connor nodded and wrote some more on her pad, before flipping to a new page.

“Let’s jump to 30, I don’t want this to take all day.”

Buck fought the gag again, but didn’t have much strength and Dayal got his way even easier than before.

“Take three.”

Buck was anxious the next time Fletcher was leaving, for more than one good reason. A trend had been forming every time Buck was left alone, of being dragged out to “play” with his sadistic roommates. Fletcher was Buck’s greatest danger, but he had to cling tight to their leg for protection from the others, and when that relative protection was gone, he paid a hefty price. 

He was also sick of staring at his face in the mirror and seeing Edward Scissorhands staring back. Fletcher could be some form of reasonable, even almost nice at times, but if Buck even existed during one of their less generous moods, he could only sate them with his pain.

“Can I stay in my room while you’re gone?” Buck tried to keep the whine out of his voice as he fetched Fletcher their reusable bags. Of course a sadistic career criminal would use fucking reusable bags.

“How would you get your chores done?” Fletcher replied, a small smirk playing on their lips.

Buck shifted uncomfortably. “I - I’ll get everything done when you come back, I just want some - I’d just like to stay in my room while you’re out.”

Fletcher sighed as if Buck was being needy, swallowing the last sip of their morning coffee.

“You know that won’t stop them from coming for you.”

“You’ll only be gone for a few hours, you could...lock me in? Take the key with you?” Buck offered hesitantly.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Fletcher grinned and Buck rolled his eyes.

“Come on, please? Just until you come back. I can finish chores then, and I won’t say a word of complaint if I have to stay up late to do it.”

Buck had little to bargain with, but Fletcher seemed amiable enough for the moment to concede. They let out an exasperated sigh again, eyeing Buck with some annoyance. 

“Fine. I won’t let the other kids pick on you today. You can spend your time thinking about how you’ll make it up to me.”

Buck breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he murmured, honestly. There was still an anger there that simmered deep inside, the shame and humiliation of being so helpless and abused, but this is what it took to survive, and Buck was a survivor.

Fletcher curtly nodded.

 “Alright, go to your room.”

Fletcher trailed behind Buck, eager to be locked away securely until their return. The humor of it wasn’t lost on Fletcher. Buck’s little room was largely bare, but he was allowed a few amenities including some books, and he flopped onto his small bed with more serenity than Fletcher could remember seeing before.

They closed the door and locked it, trying the handle out of habit to make sure it was stuck, and returned to the kitchen. 

They laid everything out that they needed on the table - keys, bags, wallet, list - no, not list.

Petrova had slipped into the kitchen to grab a drink, and before Fletcher could ask, slid the list over to their little pile. Fletcher looked up, a little surprised. 

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You are welcome,” Petrova replied, slipping the key she had palmed into her pocket.

~

Fletcher had been driving for about ten minutes before they realized they couldn’t remember if they had actually pocketed the key to Buck’s room. They checked their jacket pockets and realized it must have been left on the table. It wouldn’t take that long to turn around, they mused, but it was still a half hour of back and forth...eh, it seemed like a problem for Buck, not them. No one would even notice the key was left behind.

~

Buck felt almost giddy. He never got this amount of unstructured free time anymore, usually was instead doing endless laundry, or working on the grounds when he was lucky. He was falling asleep in bed with a book when he heard the click of the lock.

He opened his eyes blearily. Fletcher had only left a little while ago, they couldn’t be back yet, could they?

When the door opened to reveal Petrova, Buck startled, scrambling up his bed as if it was safer.

“Hello, Buck,” she purred, hungry eyes fixed on him.