#whump collab

"No, but I am!" He taps her nose with a gentle touch. "Yer laugh is adorable."

501 smiles. “You don’t act like a Guard Dog. And that’s fucking amazing.”

"Because I'm not a dog. I may be treated like one, aye, but look at me. I'm a scoundrel," he chuckles. "Ye are amazing too. Don't think ye aren't. Ye are smilin' an' laughin'!" He tilts her head up with a finger under her chin. "If you ever get sad, remember ol' Cas and think of this moment, aye?"

“But I’m a dog.” She looks up at Cas, biting her lip. “I’m their pet. Means I’m not amazing. Means I’m not what you think I am.”

"No, ye are human. Ye are yerself and that is what makes ye special." Cas keeps his eyes on her and smiles sadly. "Ye are right. Ye are not what I think ye are. Ye. Are. More. I can't give ye meaning because ye are already so meaningful. And I promise that no matter how much time passes, I won't forget ye, yer laugh, or yer warmth."

“You’ve known me for five minutes,” 501 grumbles. “How can you be so sure?”

"Would you forget me in the five minutes ye’ve known me?" He retorts with a tilt of his head and a grin. "Also I'm sure because I can read people well enough to know ye are greater than even me."

“I’m worried that they’ll make me forget,” she whispers. “You’re the only person to have shown kindness to me since I woke up…here. I’m not better than you. I’m not better than anyone. I don’t matter.” Still, she buries herself further into the blankets and Cas’s arms.

"And I'll be there to remind ye hopefully... to make ye remember that there is good," he breathes out, his eyes softening so much for her. He truly does care for her in the short time he has known her. He holds her tighter and makes sure to keep her warm. "Ye matter. Yer life is precious. One of a kind just like me. And yer soul... is brighter than a supernova."

“I don’t believe you. What—“ She nervously twists around a piece of her hair. “What do you want from me in return for this?”

The question throws him for a spin. "What do ye mean? Like... a price for me kindness?" He is confused but he shakes his head. "I want ye to smile and laugh more. That's all. And if that isn't possible... hope. Hope that life will get better."

“I don’t have a life. I live to serve my owner.” 501 cringes at her own words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. There’s normally…a price.”

"Not for me. Me affection is free and true. Genuine. I'd never sway ye like that for sadistic amusement. Plus, hugs and cuddles are awesome!" He cackles, trying to cheer her up. "Those are their words, not yers. Ye don’t really want to serve anyone."

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I fucked up again, didn’t I?”

"No, ye did what ye were taught. I can't be upset. I'm more saddened by it," he answers her in an even tone. He knows better than to truly be upset. "It's okay. Ye are safe with me."

“You’re too nice to me.” She hums and closes her eyes, leaning fully against Cas.

"And ye are too wonderful not to be nice to." He can protect her if it means fighting a handler. That is what they wanted right? He is non violent until something in his head clicked to protect. He can defend her until he can't. "Ye look tired... go to sleep. If ye want I could sing or hum a lullaby me mother sang to me–- at least I think she did." He can’t remember his mother. He knows he has one, or maybe had one. The song is still there. They can’t take it away from him. He still has his music to keep him company.

“Okay, sounds…sounds nice. I’ll try not to wake up screaming.”

Cas lets her get comfortable in his arms as his eyes finally settle on the door. He won’t let them hurt her... "Shhh, just breathe and let the waves of sleep take ye, lil lamb." He quietly hums a bit before his melodic voice takes over, his thumb rubbing against her shoulder rhythmically.

“It wasn’t my intention,” came an echoing low voice from a corner of the lab.

He emerged, in a long white lab coat from a crouching position near a cabinet. He pulled a damp cloth from a nearby sink and wiped his hands clean as he walked towards Ava.

“But I had full confidence in you to do a good job without me there, Simons. You are my T. A. after all.”

Ava raised her brows and plopped herself onto a stool by the door.

“I dunno,” she shook her head. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be stared at that blankly.”

“Makes you uncomfortable?” Dr. Anderson asked.

Ava nodded.

“And then I get on edge, and then I just get mean. I don’t mean to be mean.”

Dr. Anderson nodded, cleaning up his work station, as he listened carefully to her complaints. Finally, after all the concern had been said, he pulled out a cigarette and motioned for her to leave. He closed the lab door behind them.

He started down the stairs and Ava followed. She knew better than to ask what he had been working on for the last hour and a half until they were outside, and far away from listening ears.

The last batch he had given her was pink. This batch was as yellow as the dandy-lions that grew around their feet, and he added little sunshine stars to the tops. There were twenty-six pills. It was a lot, considering-

“The last batch was only eight,” she commented. She quickly hid the baggy of pills in a pocket in her backpack.

“And you will sell all twenty-six.”

“In one night? You’re a loon.”

Ava scoffed, and there was only silence from her professor as he lit a cigarette. They stood beneath an elm tree, likely the same age as the original buildings on the campus grounds.

“I can’t sell them all, I’d get caught in an instant,” she said. “And I won’t be able to sell them twice. I’d risk blowing my cover on the second night.”

Dr. Anderson smoked his cigarette quietly.

Ava shook her rusty brown hair and grunted.

“Look, I’ll try. I’ll take an extra disguise to the rave if I have to, but-“

“But?”

“Are you sure this batch is safe?”

Ava stepped back as her professor let out a sudden laugh. Like she had told him a joke.

“You ask me that every single time one of these parties come around. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?” Anderson exhaled a stream of smoke lifting through the canopy.

Ava shook her head.

“No, I just-“

She remembered the first time they did this. This messed up deal they had ended up giving one kid a trip to the hospital with an overdose. He used to be a student. There was a tree planted here somewhere for him in his memory.

“Don’t worry, Ava,” Dr. Anderson finally turned his head to stare her down. He knew what she was thinking, what she was remembering. “That boy had done a whole concoction of drugs that night. You had no way of knowing that he would do more than he could handle. None of that was your fault or mine. He should have been more careful.”

Ava blinked slowly, and nodded.

“You’re right. Fine… I’ll sell them all.”

“The high is mellow, and long-lasting. But don’t you dare think of taking one yourself. It will come right out of your paycheque.”

“Got it.”

Ava hoisted her bag further up her shoulder and then disappeared through the campus trees. She planned to use her blue contacts this time. She would pin her brown hair back and replace it with a neon pink wig. With a bit of contouring, she’d be unrecognizable to anyone who knew her personally.

The word was already out that the pills would be on the dance floor of Cherry On Top- most people just called the nightclub The Cherry.

Ava waited by the door, she was earlier than usual, that night. Biff, the monstrous bouncer of The Cherry, already seemed to have his hands full with a couple fresh drunks that wanted inside. He tossed them away like refuse. She moved forward, keeping a wary eye on the crumpled boys off to the side.

“Name?”

“Vanilla.”

Biff rolled his eyes. “You know the arrangement. I get twenty percent.”

“Twenty?! Our deal was for fifteen!”

“Do you want to get in or not?” he asked.

Ava snarled. “Fine. Twenty. But my guy will be furious with me, you know.”

Biff chuckled, lifting the rope over Ava’s head.

“I’m sure he will. If you would rather make up for that five percent with something else,” Biff stared down up and down and licked his lips, “be my guest.”

“In your dreams.”

Ava scowled at him, then walked into the neon party.

The first ten pills sold within the hour. Too quick for her liking. If there was a single police officer in the building, she would have been noticed right away. Ava skirted the walls toward the women’s washroom. She flipped her wig off in one of the stalls and tucked it away into her bra while pulling out a new one.

“So, fucking itchy,” she muttered.

The new wig was bright blue and curled down her shoulders.

Sixteen left. The bundle of cash hidden in her bra was becoming problematic and bulky. Biff would be expecting twenty percent, so she pulled a wad of cash out and hid it under the toilet bowl, behind one of the loose tiles. He would know where to find it. The people outside the washroom were louder, overpowering the bass. The screams filtered into the washroom, but it was nothing new. There must’ve been another fight brewing on the floor.

She adjusted herself once more, cleared her throat and went back out into the fray.

Ava stopped cold in her tracks. She was pushed back as people made room for a young woman, convulsing on the floor. Several feet away, another partier crashed to the ground to her left.

A mixture of foam and blood pooled around the young woman’s face.

A familiar one. One that sat in her class and was recognized tonight when she bought some of Dr. Anderson's sunshine.

Mateo grinned and took a step forward, soaking in Gabriel’s fear as he tried to step further, through the wall. Mateo let out a soft chuckle, putting his hands against the wall, leaving him like a trapped animal. He leaned right in front of Gabriel’s face, “Why so scared, hm?” Gabriel could only manage a couple of shaky breaths. Mateo traced his fingers against Gabriel’s cheek, his cold metal rings sending a shiver up Gabriel’s spine, “Snake got your tongue?”

Gabriel whimpered and Mateo grabbed him by his shirt, “Enough sweet talk mi príncipe” He was dragged into Mateo and Pheonix’s room and shoved to the rough carpet. Mateo towered over him like an eagle with its prey.

Then it hit Gabriel -no, not physically hit,- Mateo couldn’t hurt him! Walter would kill him if he did! And surely Mateo wouldn’t hurt a hair on him now! He grinned. Mateo did a double-take on him, “Dame Fuerza, what the hell is so funny, huh?” Gabriel smiled, “Oh nothing, just a funny thought came into my head.” Mateo rolled his eyes and retrieved something from his back pocket.

He flicked open his switchblade with a smirk, “Guess you will have to fill in for mi amor, let’s see what he sees in you!” Mateo took his knife and slowly cut the fabric of his shirt. Gabriel looked up at Mateo with wide eyes and grabbed Mateo’s wrists without thinking. Mateo growled, “Hands off! Unless you’d rather me chop them off.” Gabriel gulped.

As Mateo continued, Gabriel squirmed. Walter was going to be angry about his shirt. He wouldn't hurt him, he couldn't- He let out a scream as Mateo plunged the knife into his shoulder.

“GAHHHH! FUCK!” Mateo chuckled, “You alright there, cariño?” Gabriel tried to shove Mateo off of him, but it was useless. It was impossible to get Mateo off of him! He couldn’t breathe, he needed space, needed air, needed some peace!

The knife was slowly dragged down Gabriel’s abdominal as he let out yells and shrieks of pain. Mateo made a hum of disapproval, “Hmm, you’re very loud, that’s alright though, I don't mind that one bit.” Just as he started dragging the knife once more, Gabriel let out a gasp, “WAIT!”

Mateo rolled his eyes and snapped, “What?” Gabriel -thankful for the break- took several breaths before blurting, “Walter! He- he’ll kill you if he finds- finds out what you have done!” That seemed to make Mateo pause. “If you stop now, he’ll just be angry! Please! Just-” Mateo was sick of his bullshit, yanked the knife from his shoulder and slapped his wound.

He let an ear-piercing scream, clutching his shoulder. Mateo sighed, “I’m getting bored anyway, let’s try something new.” Gabriel started shuffling backwards, “Please, just listen to me! Walter is going to get so angry.” Mateo backhanded him hard, “Cállate! Will you shut the fuck up about Walter for two seconds! Jesús!”

Gabriel let out a sob, he couldn’t tell who was going to get into more trouble, him or Mateo. Wow, there he was again thinking about Walter. But Walter couldn’t be mad at him! He had no choice but to let Mateo inside!

Mateo chuckled, “Dios, I don’t know why I gave you to Walt. I mean, look at you.” He rubbed his bloodied hand against Gabriel’s tear-stained cheek, making him flinch, “Wh-what do you mean?” Mateo chuckled, “Los siento, I forgot he hasn’t told you yet.” Gabriel gulped, “T-told me what?”

Mateo stood up and wiped his bloodied hands in Gabriel’s torn up t-shirt, “Your car, didn’t you find it quite strange how it just… suddenly broke down?” Gabriel gulped, “I-I mean, it was an old car but I-” Mateo chuckled, “Oh sweet naive boy.”

Gabriel’s breath started picking up and now his wounds were excruciating, “N-no.”

“Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. That morning, while you were asleep, I fiddled with your engine.” Gabriel looked at him, eyes widened in fear, “Wh-what?” Mateo smiled and shrugged.

“Oh, you know, I just fiddled with a few wires and… ‘tweaked’ it a bit! It travelled as far as I wanted it to go and then boom, that night Walter texted me telling me that he got you. My plans never fail me, Gabriel, keep that in mind.”

Gabriel was in shock. All along -all along Gabriel had blamed Walter for his kidnapping, but it was mostly this bastard’s fault! How the hell did he know where he lived?!

Mateo -who clearly saw his fear- chuckled again, “I have my people. Up, come on, sit up on the bed!” Gabriel scrambled to his feet and walked to the bed, he looked at Mateo who nodded and he neatly sat on the edge of the bed. His back was straight and his arms were neatly folded on his lap. It was his position he sat in at the piano as he tried to recall different pieces.

Mateo smiled, “You know what I would always threaten my boy with?” Gabriel shook his head quickly, eyes glued to the room’s cream rough carpet. Mateo knelt down right in front of him, he traced his hand up Gabriel’s shin, “You see, I have a snake, a beautiful one indeed. Her name is Aurora which mean’s ‘dawn’. She and Pheonix had an… interesting greeting. Another fun thing I do is, I test his stillness.”

Gabriel looked at him. “I’d put fish oil all up along his leg. Then I’d set Aurora down on the ground, after several minutes she’d find her way up his leg. She’d slowly slither up his leg. At the start, he’d flinch at the feeling of scales against his legs. But you see, the more Pheonix moves, the more danger he puts himself in. It would get worse for him as she would travel up, and up, and up.”

He slowly trailed his hand up Gabriel’s leg. When Gabriel flinched, Mateo was brought away from his trance and laughed, “Ahem, anyway,” He drew back his hand, “Aurora then would wrap around his neck.” Gabriel took a shuddered breath, trying to relax himself, was Gabriel just experiencing the tiny amount of the Hell that Pheonix has to go through every day?

Mateo sighed, “Hmm, it's a pity Aurora’s not here at the moment. Who knows, maybe you can come over to my house one day and we’ll see if Aurora likes you or not.”

He can't hurt you, he can't hurt you, he can't hurt you, he can’t- He jumped as Mateo snapped his fingers in front of his face, “Hey idiota, did you hear me.” Gabriel nodded, “Y-yeah” “Good. Now, I'm feeling quite peckish, you hungry?”

“Y-yes.” Mateo cocked his head to the sighed, “Hmm, no manners?” Gabriel’s chest burned in anger. He swallowed down his humiliation and spoke, “Sorry, yes sir.” Mateo smiled, clicked his tongue and ruffled his hair, “Atta boy! We’ll go to the restaurant we were at last night, I heard they do a killer french toast.” He threw Gabriel one of Pheonix’s spare shirts which he put on.

Gabriel’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought.

Oh, it was… It started off fine, they were escorted to Mateo’s stupid ‘v.i.p’ booth and were given menus. Gabriel didn’t dare look at it, he heard Mateo order Pheonix’s food for him so he decided to leave it to Mateo to do it.

After several long minutes, Mateo smiled and took off his reading glasses, gently placing them on the table he looked at Gabriel with a smile. Gabriel shifted awkwardly in his seat, he wished he could build up some confidence.

“So tell me, how long have you been playing the piano for?” Gabriel fiddled with his hand awkwardly over the table, “Well, I learned when I was young and I have been playing ever since.” Mateo smiled, “Interesting. And what’s your favourite piece?” Gabriel softly chuckle to himself as the memories came back to him

“It’s kind of basic but probably Winter from The Four Seasons or Moonlight Sonata.” Mateo nodded, “Basic but classics.” He then looked down at Gabriel's fidgeting hands and frowned. He looked around, no one. He quickly grabbed his steak knife which the restaurant always gave him and plunged it straight into Gabriel’s palm. The knife went straight through to the table. Gabriel let out a shrilled screech.

“Come on now, another thing I teach Pheonix is to never fidget. People fidget when they’re nervous. And if your nervous, the people opposite you know they can stop all over you.” Gabriel went to pull out the knife. Mateo smacked it away, “Mierda Jesús! Are you that dumb!” Gabriel looked up at him quickly with tears streaming down his face. “You never take out an object you have been stabbed with, luckily, I think they have a first aid kit here for the chefs, I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere.”

He stood up and before leaving, he leaned right down so he was whispering into Gabriel’s ear, “I wouldn’t run if I were you, Noah is guarding the door.” He then patted his shoulder roughly and left.

Gabriel let out several sobs and then just broke down. The pain. So much pain. He couldn’t take it! He missed Walter! Walter- piano- he looked back down at his hand. This wasn’t good. He flinched as a heavy first aid box was stopped right in front of him. Mateo shoved him over and sat right beside him, “Give me your arm.”

Gabriel hesitated at first, but once Mateo raised his eyebrow he quickly handed his shaking hand. Mateo studied the wound, “Hmm, easy, I learned this in scouts when I was a boy.” He then looked at Gabriel, “Oh how the times have changed.”

Without wasting any more time, he took out multiple cotton balls. He counted to three and quickly took the knife out, he pressed hard against the gash with the cotton. Gabriel let out a cry. “Hush now, you’re being so good for me, almost finished.”

After a few minutes, he took off the cotton balls and threw them into a plastic bag which he would later dispose of. He took the skin glue then and caught Gabriel looking, “It’s better not to look mi Querido! Makes the pain worse.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, hearing Mateo chuckle. Mateo poured some glue along his wound and squeezed the skin together, making Gabriel wince. He then wound a bandage tightly around his palm. “It’s not as bad as it looks, really You're just making a big deal over nothing!” Gabriel squeezed his eyes tighter as tears fell down his face.

Suddenly Mateo’s phone rang, “Jesús, este hombre, no se relajará!” he answered it with a snappy tone, “What?!”

“Mateo! How is my boy doing? I hope he’s behaving himself!” Mateo looked at the sobbing Gabriel who had curled up on himself. “Yes, he’s all good, we just are relaxing. He’s being good, but he’s missing you... A lot!” He heard Walter chuckle to himself happily, “Good, good. Well, I have your boy and we’re on the way.” Before Mateo could ask where the hell he had found him, Walter hung up.

He looked at Gabriel, “Alright, sorry mijo, looks like french toast will be a miss today! Walter will be back soon!” Gabriel perked up at that. Walter! Walter!!! Safe! No more pain!

Back at the hotel, Gabriel gazed longingly out the window. His heart fluttered when he saw Walter’s car pull up outside the hotel. He looked to Mateo who rushed to the window and sighed, “Bien, let’s go, rápido!” He was dragged out of the room and down the hotel stairs, Gabriel wanted to cry as all of his wounds rubbed against his shirt -well, Pheonix’s shirt.

Before he could restrain himself, the minute Gabriel saw Walter, for the first time, his heart jolted with relief. He ran up to him and hugged him tight, not realising that he was crying. He hugged him as tight as he could. He couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. Safe, he was safe. Never leave me again, please.

---

taglist: @as-a-matter-of-whump @milk-carton-offical

Kauri feels an absurd, half-hysterical, wild urge to slide onto his knees on the floor, where he’s supposed to be when the handlers come into the room. Something about the plain white walls that had been reassuring last night suddenly feels too tight, closing in on him. 

Kauri’s shoulders hunch, self-protective, and he presses himself back against the wall, as far from Tucker as he can get, but there’s nowhere else to go. 

“He-... he, um, he-...” Kauri swallows, hard. Fix it, make nice, be good, 645898, be good. “I told him my name was Daniel,” He lies fast, and he’s still good at it, it sounds sincere. “He’s not lying, I l-lied to him… I-” His voice catches, and he clears his throat, nervously. “I lied to him, sir. He didn’t lie to you.”

Be good. Be good, you have to be good for them.

“My n-name is Kauri, sir.”

Cass can’t help himself from crumbling as Kauri starts speaking, he folds forward, hands rubbing over his face. Shut up, shut up, just shut the fuck up, you’re gonna make this so much worse.

“Oh, he’s a loyal little puppy isn’t he? Lying for you like that,” Tucker says. Already it’s worse. Cass stares at the bed sheets, shaking his head like that’ll make it go away. He can feel Kauri’s need to placate rolling off of him in waves. Be good. Make nice. It’s only gonna get worse, worse, worse.  “How long did it take you to train that? Or did you just… you know…"

Tucker taps his temple twice, smiling like the devil. Cass glares. He should say something. He should move. He should stand and get dressed and throw Kauri his clothes and haul him the fuck out of here. But he doesn’t. He never fucking does with Tucker. He doesn’t know how.

“Kauri. I like that name,” Tucker says with the shark grin, looking back at his new toy. "I like the ‘sir’, too. You should be taking notes, Ace."

Tucker tilts his head, examining both men thoroughly. Cass glowering, Kauri cowering. Two little kicked dogs. What a fun fucking morning this was turning out to be.

“Tell me, Kauri, did Ace tell you what he does here? What he does to people? Or did you just...” his eyes trail down the young man’s half exposed body, practically sneering with judgement, disgust. “Get straight to business?”

Kauri tries - he does - but he wilts under the sneer, one hand moving to rub at the wicked scar across his collarbone, reflexively pressing against the metal plate still hidden under his skin, the part that couldn't be removed. 

He's tucked into the corner, as far from Tucker as he can get, but it's not far enough. Wide blue eyes skip to his and then away again, unable to focus on any one thing. 

Tucker talks just like a handler. Looks at him the same way, like he's not a person at all. Is he one? Kauri can't help the creeping doubt. 

"No, sir," He says, softly. Voice not quite trembling. "Yes, sir. We didn't t-talk about that."

“Well then you're in for a treat,” Tucker tuts. The longer he speaks to Kauri, the closer his manner and tone draws to that of someone talking to a frightened child. Cass hates him for it, and still he doesn’t do a single thing. 

“What do you think, Ace?” Tucker says, voice lilting playfully as he stands up from the bed. Cass is shaking his head before Tucker even suggests what is to come next, staring furiously at the bed sheets, jaw locked tight. “Shall we play puppets?”

Cass slams his eyes shut. No. No, no, no, fucking no. Kauri is good. Kauri is good and he doesn’t deserve this. Letting him stay was meant to be a good deed for Christ’s sake. Meant to be a way to get him off a goddamn park bench and Cass should have known. He should have known this would happen. 

“Why don’t you ask him to stand up for me?”

“Ask him yourself,” Cass grinds out. He'll do whatever you ask. You don't need me to do shit because he'll do whatever you want. 

“Is that really what you want?"

Cass looks up, gaze sharp and biting. He looks like he wants to say a great number of things but knows he won't be the one punished for whatever he spits out. He deflates, just barely, eyes dropping again. “At least give him his fucking clothes, Tuck.”

“Play nice and I’ll think about it,” Tucker shrugs. “But either you make him stand up right now, or I will.”

Kauri hasn’t moved. He’s still pushed up against the wall, tucked into the corner as though there’s any protection to be had there, his eyes flickering from Cass to Tucker and back again as though watching a strange and terrifying game being played in front of him. 

Every time he tries to open his mouth to offer to just do what Tucker says, one of them speaks again, and his mouth snaps back shut. He can’t keep up with them, they’re moving too fast. They both know the game, and Kauri has no idea what it is, and he doesn’t know how to be good unless you tell him how. 

He doesn’t want to move from the wall. It’s the only bit of free will he has left, his absolute certainty that he wants to stay as far away from Tucker as he can. “I, I don’t want to stand up-”

Cass finally, finally looks at Kauri. He wants to communicate everything he possibly can in the half a second he can bear to hold his gaze but all he can think is I’m sorry. This is my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, "Kᴀᴜʀɪ, sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴜᴘ."

Cass speaks and Kauri’s moving immediately, it’s nearly instantaneous, even as he’s hyper-aware of his own nakedness he slides off the bed and is standing, hugging himself tightly to hide the barcode inside his left wrist, keeping it pressed against his right side along his ribcage. 

“Wh-what-... wait-”

"Make him sit."

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, sɪᴛ.”

Kauri’s eyes are as wide as saucers, staring at Cass as he sits down, abruptly, without even a hint of conscious thought before he does so.

"Make him stand."

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, sᴛᴀɴᴅ."

And Kauri’s back up again, still staring at Cass. All at once Kauri realizes that he’s not going anywhere unless Tucker, whoever he was - some kind of handler, definitely, although not exactly the same kind - wants him to leave.

Tucker laughs, leaning against the wall like he was watching a dog perform a particularly impressive trick. He makes eye contact with Cass, turns his finger slowly. Cass resists the urge to roll his eyes before giving the direction. 

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ᴛᴜʀɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇ," Cass’ eyes flit to Tucker, who tilts his head, mouthing something, and adds. “Sʟᴏᴡʟʏ.”

Tucker watches Kauri move, smiling like he’s watching a show dog perform a perfectly well practiced trick.

Kauri turns, hunched over still hugging himself. There are scars, here and there - small ones, moments Owen lost control and didn’t hold himself back enough. They’re tiny things, easy to miss in dim semi-darkness, but obvious in the light. And the deep twist of scarring along his collarbone. The dark brown leather bracelet is the only thing on his body, and Kauri - who is trained out of shame, who had been carefully and violently nurtured into feeling no shame for things like this at all - is bright red by the time he’s facing Tucker again. 

He doesn’t usually care - but in front of Tucker, he suddenly wants nothing more than to put his clothes back on. More clothes, even, to pull something of Cass’s on so he can be even more covered, even less laid bare. 

"It's okay Kauri, I know this is probably a little confusing," he says, mock sympathy painting his voice as he comes forward to hold the man’s jaw, long fingers squishing his cheeks together. "See this is what Cassius does. He reaches into people's heads and he makes them do the things I want them to do. Like magic.”

He grabs Kauri by the arms, grip bruising, and turns him to face where Cassius sits on the bed, hands locked around his knees, eyes hollow and refusing to look anywhere but the sheets. Kauri goes perfectly tense, every muscle rigid, but the idea of disobeying - of trying to free himself - is a distant, foggy thought he can’t slip his fingers around. 

“To be honest, that's probably how he got you here in the first place. Just crept into your head and made you feel like you wanted it,” Tucker murmurs in Kauri’s ear, just barely loud enough for Cass to hear it too. His voice is flat, devoid of the mocking lightness in it before. Full instead of utter disdain. “He doesn’t need fancy drugs, he doesn’t need threats. Just his voice. Isn’t that clever of him?”

“You’re lying,” Kauri says, voice shaking but there’s a sudden flat certainty there. Every… every time Cass makes him do something, he says his name first. Kauri picks up on that fast. His name, and then the command, and then he does it. He hadn’t understood why he grabbed the asshole in the bar’s arm, but he does now – Cass had said his name first, then the command. 

But Cass hadn’t been commanding him hardly at all after that. And he hadn’t said his name that way, not up against the wall in the alley. 

Cass closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He can't stop shaking his head. This was meant to be a good thing. One good thing. Of course Tucker has to twist that away too. His stomach is turning just from the implication of what’s being said.

It hadn’t been like that. He doesn’t do that. But it doesn’t matter whether he did or it didn’t, did it? He could have. He might have. That was all it took to lose trust.

 "You do have good taste, Ace, I'll give you that. He looks kind of like that guy from Dimmer Switch, don't you think?”  Tucker says, holding Kauri at arms length as he circles him slowly, the perfect picture of power and vulnerability. Predator and prey. His hand skims across the glossy pink scar on Kauri’s clavicle with morbid curiosity as he speaks, Tucker’s eyes light up with all the glee of a fucking kid on Christmas as an idea suddenly hits him. “Ooh, I know. We should make him punch the wall like in the breakdown scene. You know, the one where he breaks his hand?”

“No,” Kauri says, weakly. He hasn’t seen the movie, though he knows everything that happens in it. Owen has told him the plot over and over again, piece by piece, breaking it down. But he can’t watch the movie, because he might see Vince’s face. 

“St-stop it.” He tries to find real strength for his voice, even as being so close to a handler - any handler, it never mattered if it was his handler, they were all always hurting him - makes him feel like a trainee all over again. “You’re just trying to ruin him having something nice. Stop it.”

“You’re right. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” Tucker says with a smile. “And look, I think it’s working, don’t you?”

Cass looks up at that, glaring at Tucker with full venom. He can feel adrenaline crackling through his veins. When it came to fight or flight, Cassius had barely ever chosen anything but the former in his life, but he knows better by now than to try and act on it. He wants to launch himself at Tucker’s smug fucking face and bash it into the floor until even the thought of smiling like that makes him flinch.

Instead he re-adjusts the iron-grip on his own wrist, focusses so hard on Tucker that he doesn’t risk glancing at the person he’s hauled into all of this.

“You’ve made your fucking point, Tuck, just let him go,” he grinds out, voice flat and empty despite the rage in his eyes.

“Oh, I will. But first, I want to watch him hit the wall until his pretty hand breaks,” he says. He grabs Kauri’s wrist, hand wrapping around the leather bracelet. He brings Kauri’s arm up to eye level, quirking an eyebrow with mocking apathy. “What? He get you into bed so fast you couldn’t even take off your accessories?”

Kauri has a snarl on his face, growing anger on Cass’s behalf - Kauri knows what it means to sink into yourself, he knows the feeling written all over Cass’s face. Kauri has been that person too many times, it’s nearly all he knows, all he remembers except for the people he’d met after he ran away.

But when Tucker grabs his wrist, Kauri freezes, and the anger fades under a low-level, growing panic. He jerks his wrist, trying to free it from Tucker’s grip.

“What if he d-did?” Kauri asks, breathless, trying to cover up the panic by lacing his voice with as much anger as he can pull back into himself. “Are y-...” He has to gasp in a breath to make the words more than a whisper, fighting the drumbeat in his mind of stop it stop being bad stop being defiant make nice make nice be good be a good boy stop it. “Are you fucking jealous or something? You want in on me, too?”

Tucker scoffs, almost impressed by the little outburst. He takes a moment to rake his eyes over Kauri's naked body, "What would you do if I did, hm?"

Cass feels his blood freeze.

His hands twitch, trying to pre-empt whatever's about to happen. He doesn't dare move yet, he doesn't dare look away. He wishes for once, just for once, that he could feel what Tucker wanted, that he could know what he was thinking.

You're not my type. That's what Tucker says. That's what he's always fucking said with every dick joke, every innuendo, every half-intoxicated pass Cass might've made at him he'd smirk and shut him down with a simple you're not my type.

But Cass was an acquired taste, really, wasn't he? Loud mouthed and defiant. A penchant for violence. Rough around the edges in every sense of the word. But that wasn't Kauri.

Kauri, who blushed easily and stumbled over his words like a school boy with a crush. Kauri, who'd fucking melted at being called good. Kauri, who even right now, even attempting to dig for something aggressive was shaking with waves of make nice, make nice, make nice. Was that what Tucker wanted? Was that his goddamn type?

"You look like you're about to faint, little puppet," Tucker continues, hand just as tight around Kauri's wrist. "What would you even do if I decided I wanted you?"

Kauri feels the weight of eyes on his body, he always has. A sense of feeling complete if someone wants him, is thinking about him, will touch him like this. Even people he hates. Even the handlers pressing him up against cold white walls was better than nothing. 

And there had been so much nothing.

“I’m not about to faint,” Kauri says, his voice still too soft, too airy, but his eyes lock on Tucker’s and hold. Barely. “Y-you’re still just trying to hurt him. You don’t like that he… that he got to be happy for a second. Besides… you don’t need to be jealous.” 

He steps forward, calling Tucker’s bluff, pushing into his personal space now, cocking his head to the side in the practiced little head-tilt, trained into him until he can do it without even knowing it, looking up at Tucker with wide blue eyes focused only on him. 

Handlers who want you to fight don’t like it when you don’t. Kauri wants to see which kind of handler Tucker is.

“What makes you think I’d say no?”

I can’t. But you don’t need to know that.

Tucker laughs.

"Oh I like this one, Ace," he says. "He's good at playing slut, isn't he? Is that how you bonded?"

Tucker sweeps a foot out, a quick kick to the side of Kauri's legs to have his knees buckling, crumbling to the floor. Kauri goes down hard with a soft cry, his knees cracking into the hard floor with a sickening lick of pain up his thighs that’s entirely too familiar. 

Cassius starts forward, ready to get to his feet before he stops himself just as suddenly. He has no way of knowing what will happen here if he makes the wrong move. He has no way of knowing who else in the Facility is up yet, who else might be called in. It wouldn't be the first time someone caught trespassing was signed up for clinical testing the next day.  

"Tucker, that's enough," he croaks. It's so weak.

Tucker shifts his gaze lazily to Cassius' face, giving him a bored sort of appraisal. "Or what?"

He laces his fingers through dark curls and yanks Kauri's head back hard and fast, his other hand trailing a line down his throat.

"See I don't think he would say no," he muses "I think he'd say please."

Kauri swallows, hard, his heart threatening to pound its way right out of his chest, feeling oddly distant and foggy now. Being scared won’t fix it. Being good won’t fix it. He’s trapped with Owen who can’t be pleased, who will only get upset, whose hands will go around his neck-

He flinches back from the hand on his throat like Tucker might burn him with it - or choke him - and lets out a broken cry, before he clenches his hands into fists and tries to, to think. But being trapped with Owen means being trapped with what Owen did. Which makes him angry.

“You might not b-be able to understand me,” He says, his voice still mostly air but it’s pissed-off air and that has to count for something, “Since I’d b-bite your dick off if you tried, I’ve d-done it before.”

He moves with Tucker’s hand, tilting his head far back, and spits at his face.

Tucker slams Kauri's head into the metal bed-frame without a pause for thought, the crack so loud it's like a gunshot ringing out in the tiny room.

Kauri cries out as his head connects, a bright flash of white behind his eyes with the pain on its heels, and slumps against the bed, the world a dizzying spin around him, throbbing pain and a trickle of something he can feel run down the side of his temple.

Tucker reels back, pulling his leg back to kick Kauri in the stomach. And Cass moves. He's on his feet and shoving Tucker backwards before he can think better of it.

"Tucker, don't," he says, terse and frantic. "Don't. I'll do whatever you want, alright?"

He doesn't look at Kauri. Kauri doesn't exist.

"I'll do whatever the fuck you want. I won't complain, I won't make a fuss. I'll stay on grounds, I'll go to the fucking meetings, whatever the fuck you want. Just... Just don't."

He feels cut loose, terrified and more vulnerable than he's been in forever but he refuses to show it, face curled into a snarl, voice harsh and biting. Tucker laughs, pulling off his tie with one hand, eyes wild.

"That little bargain might've tempted me earlier, Ace, but your friend here fucked up. He fucked up bad. And I plan on rectifying that little misstep."

“Wh-why is it…” Kauri’s voice trails off, slurred oddly, and he looks up at Tucker without standing up, bright red blood trickling down from a slice across his temple  into his right eye. He blinks it away, or tries, reaching up to wipe at it with his hand. “... that err’... ev’rybody can call me a slut but I’m n-never ‘lowed t’be mad about it?”

His ears were ringing, sort of, a weird muffled sound that existed inside his skull and not outside it. Kauri shifted back, wiping at his head again. 

Something jarred loose, with the blow to his head. Somewhere under Kauri’s panic is a darker, cynical, harder-edged anger, a pulsing want to defy, fight back, kick and scratch and bite until they remember he’s a person, not a pet, they can’t take his name away from him only they can and they did and Kauri’s weakness ended up stronger than the boy he had once been.

“Why are you… all… th’ same?”

“Act like a slut, people will call you a slut,” Tucker says, eyes still on Cassius. “Isn’t that right, Ace?”

Cass shrugs, crossing his arms, “Been begging for you to call me a slut for years and you still won’t.”

Tucker smiles, taking a few steps backwards so he can survey them both. Cass doesn’t miss the way Tucker is carefully winding his tie around his knuckles. Can’t risk bruising the hand he shakes with, can he now?

“Either way,” he says “I think all three of us know that the only way this one isn’t headed straight to jail for trespassing is if you both sit down, shut up, and play nice.”

Cass does his very best not to flinch. He’s schooled by now, at keeping his face blank and passive even as his heart starts racing. Something must flicker behind his eyes, though, or maybe Kauri’s face shifts behind him, because Tucker relaxes back on his heels, the satisfaction of finding a new chink in the armour painting his face with that insufferable smugness.

“Oh, we don’t like that, do we?” he says. “Sit down. Now. Or I get out my phone, and I’ll escort your friend downstairs to wait for the cops myself.”

Part of Kauri is astute enough to think, small men like hurting smaller ones to feel big, but the words never make it out of his mouth, because the part of him that knows things isn’t the part that keeps him alive sometimes, and the good boy deeper down steps up to the plate to force the words back down his throat.

His eyes are caught on the tie wrapped around the man’s knuckles - Owen does that sometimes, when he has a meeting the next day.

“So that’s… th’ trade?” Kauri manages, still slurred but getting better. He doesn’t move off the floor for now, but sits back on his heels, sliding easily into Position Two, hands on his thighs, kneeling on the floor. Muscle memory. He doesn’t have to think.

“Y-you… get off on th’ blood… and I get to leave?”

Damn it. Kauri winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He feels like his brain is going to split into two, and he knows better than to talk back to handlers, but he can’t stop himself. It feels like before all over again, like training. 

“If blood g-gets you hard-”

Stop it stop it stop it why am I still talking jesus Kauri stop

“-then you’ve got bigger problems than the slut you’re making bleed.”

Tucker laughs lightly, walking forward to stand directly in front of Kauri and tangle his fingers through his curls. Kauri shudders, trying to pull back, but Tucker’s grip is too strong. 

“He’s funny, this one, isn’t he?” he says. A hard tug to pull the man’s head back, wide blue eyes locked on his, Kauri’s mouth slightly open as he pulls in quick, shallow breaths. “Or at least, he thinks he is.”

“I don’t think I’m-”

The first backhand hits with the low thud of knuckles hitting cheekbone. One. Kauri’s head snaps to the side, moving with the slap rather than trying to brace himself against it, making it hurt less than it would otherwise. Cassius locks his gaze carefully on a patch on the floor, sets his jaw, and folds into himself. Two. Kauri grunts, this time, the barest hint of sound. Cass hears the hits beside him, counts as they land, despite himself. But he can’t bring himself to give a shit. Three.

Another grunt, higher-pitched, closer to a cry.

What the fuck did it matter? Cass thought. People got hurt all the time. Kauri had been hurt before. He’d get over it. 

Four.

It wasn’t Cass’ fucking fault. He’d warned Kauri back at the bar, back at the burger joint. He’d said it again and again. I’m not nice. And Kauri had come back with him anyway. wasn’t his fucking fault.

“You know what, I think, Ace?” Tucker says after five, panting just barely. Cass registers dimly that Kauri’s probably hurt by now. But five hits wasn’t many. They hadn’t all been to the head. He’d survive. “I think Kauri, needs some help calming down.”

Kauri, one side of his face bright red from Tucker’s hand, makes a soft, distressed sound. He knows three ways they’ll calm him down, the handlers, when he’s bad. They fuck him or drug him or hurt him until he’s too injured to speak. Fucking is the only thing that doesn’t make him feel worse, the only thing that feels better.

He doesn’t want the man, but it never matters what he wants, in the end.

Cass blinks slowly, eyes blank and bored as he turns to look at the blonde man standing beside him. He snorts a laugh. Looks to his left. There are a couple bottles of different pills on the bedside table. A few sleeves in the drawer, too. 

“What ones do you want?” 

“You’re the expert, Ace, just something to smooth the rough edges” 

He grabs a bottle on the edge. It’s only Valium. But Kauri’s slim enough. He pops off the lid and passes it over.

“Don’t have many left so don’t waste ‘em,” he says. His voice is flat, apathetic. “One’ll fuck him up plenty.”

“Two it is, then,” Tucker says, finally releasing Kauri’s hair to fish out the pills before grabbing at his jaw. “Here we go. Open nice and wide for me.”

Kauri doesn’t expect Cass to help. It’s clear what they are to each other, he and the man. Cass is the trainee. The man, Tucker, is the handler.

Kauri knows how that works. He’s watched a lot of trainees get hurt right in front of him and never helped, either. Not after they hurt him so badly he knew not to try again.

Kauri jerks back from the grip as best he can, gritting his teeth together and turning his head away. He doesn’t try to spit any words now, because that would mean opening his mouth. And that means pills. He can’t read the words on the pill bottle, has no idea what the man is going to give him - what they’re both going to give him.

"Kauri, just take the pills," Cass says, halfway numb. The quicker he took them, the quicker he'd be out of here. The quicker he was out of here, the quicker they would both be able to forget the fact they ever met.

Kauri freezes, for a breath, but the words don't have the weight of a real command. But…

He stares at the pills and opens his mouth anyway, like he had been commanded, letting Tucker force them into his mouth before he snaps it shut.

"Good boy," Tucker says, patting Kauri on the cheek with a smile. 

His mouth fills with bitterness and his stomach twists, saliva flooding his mouth, as he shifts the pills carefully around to slide them under his tongue and keep them there. If Tucker turns away - even just for a second - he can spit them into his palm and throw them under Cass's bed with no one the wiser. 

He even has one more skill.

He speaks, and he's so good at this you can't tell between the slur of the pills he's hiding and how he slurred before.