Hostage to Fortune
Disclaimer: don't own Danny or Rusty. And they're probably both very pleased about that.
Summary: AU Body and Soul verse. Sequel to "Fortune" and "Reversal of Fortune". In which Danny doesn't take no for an answer. One-shot.
A/N: These titles sound like some sort of blockbuster series to anyone else? I would advise reading "Fortune" and "Reversal of Fortune" first for this to make sense. Um, some sex involved. Sorry about that.
There was no knowing where Rusty lived. Somewhere in the city but it was a big enough city that he could look forever and never find him.
He'd tried staking out the Hyatt Regency but that had been pointless. At first, he'd thought that Rusty was scheduling visits during the day when he was working but days when he wasn't working, there was still no Rusty. Rusty was avoiding the place. Rusty was avoiding him.
Other hotels and he tried to get money to talk. Concierges with lips that could be loosened by the flash of cash. Except that even all the charm that he possessed, all the dollar bills he waved didn't produce answers. Oh, they knew Rusty; how to contact him. Their eyes said as much. They just weren't sharing that with Danny.
Danny sat in a bar with a malt whisky and thought long and hard before the penny dropped.
He was tailing the wrong person.
Following Ike was simple enough. Ike's habits were nicely straightforward. Work and rest and play and the play was either a bar or Madison Square Gardens. But Danny knew that at some point, the play was going to involve Rusty.
The second Thursday and Ike detoured from the usual and walked into the Millennium Hilton. Danny sat on a bench opposite and ignored the dark and the cold. The glint of gold in the streetlight as someone exited a cab and then Rusty's unmistakable form was making its way to the hotel entrance.
There was an ache deep inside Danny. A trembling running through him that was all about an explainable need. He looked down at his shaking hands and with great effort, stilled them. Not yet. He couldn't give way yet.
Two hours later, Rusty emerged and the doorman hailed a cab. Danny sat in a cab of his own and could see the tip and the smile and wondered which the doorman valued more.
"That's him," he told the taxi-driver, letting a little snarl creep into his voice, "that's the bastard who's been cheating with my wife."
"Him?" The taxi-driver nodded. "Don't worry, we won't lose him."
Rusty lived in an exclusive apartment block. Nothing surprising there.
"Thanks," Danny said, paying the cabman.
"You go get him, buddy."
"Oh, I intend to."
Rusty unlocked the door to his penthouse and put the money in a neat pile on the side, then shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He headed straight to the kitchen. The last hour and he'd been hungry and not even the very nice truffles had been satisfying.
He cut himself a slice of French bread and buttered it with cheese spread then wandered through to the living area and turned on the TV. Julia Roberts was busy living the dream in "Pretty Woman". Rusty chewed cheesy bread for a few minutes and watched her particular fairy-tale unfold. Happy ever after. Yeah, right.
Hitting the off switch on the remote, he pulled his tie free and then lost the rest of his clothing on his way to the shower. He stood under the needles of hot water and washed himself. Jerry had been his usual vocal self. A litany of "Fuck…fuck…fuck…" interspersed with an "Oh, that's good, baby…". Rusty smiled. Jerry was easy money.
Clean again, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel round his waist and walked out of the bathroom, planning on finding more bread and cheese. He came to an unexpected halt. He had a visitor.
Getting into Rusty's flat had taken a lie, a bribe and a bunch of balloons. The lie and the bribe were for the super. The balloons were a decoy. Danny had looked at the trail of clothes and smiled. Rusty really wasn't ever going to change.
The shower was running and for a long moment, Danny stood and listened and imagined water falling down over golden skin. It was tempting just to go and find Rusty right then and there. He felt himself growing hard at the thought.
No. There was an order to things. He sat down in the easy chair and waited.
Ishmael. No, Danny. Danny. Tall, dark and handsome Danny who couldn't take no for an answer. Rusty kept all the emotion off his face and smiled.
"Well. Right about now, I feel like I'm walking back to a poker game and finding someone else sitting in my seat."
"That make me Goldilocks?"
Rusty's eyes travelled to the dark locks. "Not without a vat of bleach." He glanced at the balloons. "Someone's birthday?"
"Undoubtedly."
Rusty walked a little further into the room, still wary, his brain busy doing calculations that were all about the distance to the door (too far) and the whereabouts of the gun (in the safe by his bed).
It wouldn't come to that. Ishmael had liked talking. Ishmael had liked him. Yeah. That was the problem right there. He saw Danny's gaze flicker down to his bare chest and back up again and he noted the slow flush and the way Danny suddenly crossed his legs. Still the problem.
"I had to find you," Danny began.
"Well, you've found me. And now, you can leave."
Attempt number one; direct; to the point.
"No."
Too much to hope for.
"Please, Rusty." Danny was on his feet and Rusty kept his weight forward, his body tensed, balanced, ready. "I need to speak to you. To explain."
"There's nothing to say," Rusty kept his voice level. "We have nothing to say."
Attempt number two; reasonable; calm.
"You haven't heard me out yet."
Fuck…enough of Mr Nice Guy.
"I heard enough the last time."
Rusty crossed to the phone on the kitchen counter and started to dial. Danny was faster than he'd thought. His fingers closed round Rusty's and he pulled the phone from Rusty's hand.
"No, listen to me!"
Rusty stood stock still, Danny's hand on his, Danny's breath on the back of his neck. He didn't need to look at Danny's face to see the sudden tightening of the mouth. The physical. It was all about the physical.
"So start talking," he said softly.
Danny let go of him and took a step backwards. Rusty exhaled slowly and turned round.
"You're…you're special, Rusty. When I'm not with you, I want to be with you. Need to be with you. You have to understand how I feel. You have to feel what I feel. There's a connection between us. We should be together. You don't need to work. You don't need to go out and sleep with other men."
Rusty saw the jealous colour rise in Danny's face. Heard the tone grow angry.
"You don't have to roll around in hotel bedrooms. You don't have to lie on your back, wrapping your legs round strangers. You don't have to be fucked like some sort of…you don't need to let them touch you…hold you down-"
Danny lashed out and swept the bread and spread and the knives on to the floor.
OK. The smart thing would be to edge towards the door but Rusty wasn't certain Danny would let him. And besides…
"It's not like that," Rusty said quietly. "Everything's on my terms. I'm not doing anything I don't want to do."
A spasm of pain crossed Danny's face.
"I can't accept that, Rus. I don't want that for you."
Rusty ran a finger over his bottom lip, thoughts flashfiring. Danny didn't look like he was going to accept anything. And if this turned physical physical, Danny looked like he could handle himself: he might be marked and that would stop the cashflow. The breadknife was on the floor but closer to Danny and in any case, knives were unpredictable. No. Another way.
"You ever thought about what I want?"
"You can't want…" Danny waved a dismissive hand. "You can't." Decisive.
"Maybe I enjoy it. The sex with the strangers. The thrill of it all."
Danny shook his head. "No."
"Maybe that's what excites me."
"No!"
Attempt number three: seduction, promises, sex and send him packing with more promises. Then arrange swift retribution.
"Maybe that's what's exciting me now."
Danny stared at him. "What…?"
"Being surprised in my own place…maybe that's something I've fantasised about…"
Danny heard the words. He understood the words. He didn't believe them.
"What…?"
Unsure. Uncertain. And then Rusty let the towel fall to the floor.
"You want me." Rusty's voice was light and honey and silk. "You can take me."
God, he wanted him. Oh, fuck, he wanted him. It had been so long.
"Cheese spread…" Rusty nudged the tub on the floor with his foot. "Beats margarine."
Danny swallowed. Rusty really wanted… But why…? Unless… The control. The perfect, faultless, flawless control. Oh, it made sense. Rusty was always in charge. Things were always on his terms. This would be…
"It's what you really want…" Wonderingly. Disbelievingly. Checking.
Rusty's eyes still said yes.
Danny bent down and picked up the towel and handed it to him. Rusty frowned and tied it round himself. Damn it. Attempt number four would need the persuasion of the gun and he doubted Danny was going to let him unlock the safe. Maybe the knife-
"Not like that." Danny's voice was hoarse. "Not like that."
"Danny…?"
Danny lifted his head and his eyes were dark with desire and intent.
"You'd still be wearing the towel."
Rusty held his gaze for the longest of moments and then he threw himself towards the knife.
Face down on the kitchen floor.
Knife kicked out of reach.
Danny on top of him.
Danny inside him.
Somewhere he could see MacAvoy's face.
They'd ended up in bed. More sex and he'd let Danny use him. He'd rolled over and presented. He'd gone down and swallowed sweetly. Eventually, Danny fell asleep, his arm draped over Rusty. Rusty didn't take his eyes off the fine lines in the wallpaper. Scaring Danny off with the gun was no longer an option.
Morning came. Danny yawned and stretched and kissed Rusty's shoulder then checked his watch.
"Fuck, I gotta run." He pulled his clothes on and kissed Rusty's shoulder again as Rusty stared at the wall. "I'll see you later."
The door closed behind Danny.
"No, you won't," Rusty whispered to emptiness.
The man at the other end of the phone didn't take phone calls. The fact that he'd answered was a compliment in itself. Rusty took a deep breath.
"Mr Langdon, I need that favour."
Darkness stifling him. Fabric over his face, blocking out light and safety, and his breathing was shallow as he was pushed out of the van, his hands tied behind him and onto a sidewalk and down steps and inside again and on to a chair. Wooden chair. Felt like a concrete floor beneath his feet.
Light ripped into his eyes as the hood was pulled away and he blinked up at strange men.
"What-" he began and one of them punched him in the mouth.
"You don't speak," another advised him.
Danny didn't understand and he couldn't ask and all he could think was it was mistaken identity but if they wouldn't let him talk then how could he check? Panic started to rise within him.
Through the one-way glass, Mr Langdon turned his head and look at Rusty thoughtfully.
"How far do you want the boys to go?"
"I don't want him looking for me again."
Mr Langdon smiled pleasantly. "That wasn't my question."
"I want him alive. I just want him to stay away."
Mr Langdon nodded and sighed and spelled it out. "You want him walking? Talking? In possession of eyes and ears?"
"Nothing permanent," Rusty clarified. "Just make sure he gets the message."
Mr Langdon rang the number.
In the room with the terrifying men, a phone rang. One of the terrifying men answered it, listened, nodded and hung up. He leaned close to Danny.
"You will leave Mr Ryan alone. And we are going to show you why."
"Rusty...?"
This time, the punch split his lip.
"You staying?" Mr Langdon murmured, curiosity flavouring his voice.
Rusty watched dispassionately as violence was expended and Danny grew less than handsome.
"I'm not going anywhere."