Stepford, an ocean's 11 fanfic

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Ocean's 11 or Stepford Wives. Remake or original.

A/N: Am somewhat proud of myself for managing to write an O11 story which is categorised as sci/fi horror. What, does no one else think that's impressive?

Pairing: Terry/Rusty. Because InSilva wanted to read it.

"We're going to need to keep Terry away from the casino for an evening. Otherwise Sebastian's bound to notice you and Terry are different people."

"Doesn't matter how often you say it, I'm still clean out of ideas."

"Fantastic."

"Maybe you should just take him out to dinner."

"...you want me to date Terry Benedict?"

"Hey, you never know, right? You might like it."

Rusty hated it. Really, it had to be one of the most excruciatingly dull and awkward evenings of his life. The only thing he and Terry had in common was a shared loathing and it was only by reminding himself that he needed to keep Terry away from Danny and Sebastian that he was able to endure more than a minute of the smugness and the condescension.

Terry talked business. Rusty told a couple of jokes and watched them pass high over Terry's head.

It was probably the boredom. Or the annoyance. At any rate it was something because somehow, over the course of the evening, he must have lost track of what he'd had to drink. He'd only meant to have a couple. He thought he only had had a couple but at the end of the evening he was pretty much incapable of walking or talking or keeping his eyes open, and he certainly wasn't capable of putting up more than the weakest of struggles when Terry bundled him towards the spare bedroom with a look of disgust.

That was the first time he had the nightmare.

Not that he ever really remembered it when he was awake. Just flashes. Being strapped down. A needle in his arm. Flashing lights and soothing voices.

He fought until he didn't want to anymore.

For a moment, when he woke up, he wasn't sure exactly where he was. The nightmare had been so intense and so long. He'd felt like he was never going to wake up and, not absolutely convinced what was real, he stayed very still and waited.

Eventually, when he didn't hear anything, he opened his eyes and looked round. Huh. Terry's spare room. Right. He remembered. Slowly he sat up, feeling like he'd had the best night's sleep he had in years. Relaxed and stretching, he glanced at his watch. Fuck. It was half ten already. Danny was going to be worried about him. And he had no idea if things had worked out with Sebastian. He had to get going.

He scrambled into his jacket and shoes and headed for the door. Tried to head for the door. Terry was sitting in the living room, sipping at a cup of coffee and reading Time Magazine. He looked up when he saw Rusty and smiled with cold satisfaction. "Good. You're up."

"Yeah..." Rusty agreed awkwardly. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I'm not normally – "

" – don't worry about it," Terry interrupted dismissively. "Why don't you sit down and have some breakfast?"

"I don't have time," Rusty said tersely. Besides. He didn't want to.

Terry nodded thoughtfully. "You've got time. Sit down. Have some breakfast."

He sat down. It made sense, after all. He was already late, he reasoned. A little more time wouldn't hurt anything.

Terry leaned forwards and started telling him about the plans for the high roller room at the Mirage.

Somehow, Terry was much more engrossing this morning.

Rusty hung on his every word.

The rest of the job went smoothly enough. Despite the fact that Rusty was beyond distracted. He didn't know what it was. Just felt like he was missing something. Lacking something. He felt empty, for want of a better word. And it didn't matter how often Danny or Saul asked him what was wrong, he just didn't know.

After the job, after the celebrations, when they'd all gone their separate ways. Rusty found himself drifting to Vegas. It was like he was in some dreamworld and he walked with unerring, unknown purpose through the Bellagio. The staff let him through like they'd been expecting him.

Finally, he stood awkwardly in Terry's door.

Terry regarded him evenly. "What do you want, Ryan?"

He didn't know. He really didn't. "I..." he began helplessly. "I liked talking to you the other week."

"Did you now?" Terry's lip curled. "And what do you want?"

He shrugged. He didn't know.

"You want to spend more time with me?" Terry went on, watching him through narrowed eyes. "Is that it?"

Gratefully, he nodded. That was it. He didn't know why, but that was it.

"All right," Terry said sharply, standing up quickly and crossing the room, pacing round Rusty, studying him. "But there are some ground rules. As long as you're spending time with me, you are an honest man." He paused. "Unless I say otherwise, that is," he added. "Is that clear?"

Rusty struggled with the idea for a few moments. It felt wrong. It felt very wrong. But really, he was already semi-respectable. The hotel was supposedly his main focus these days. Maybe he shouldn't be afraid of the next step. Besides. Wasn't like it was a permanent thing. Just for as long as he was with Terry."

"Okay," he agreed at last.

"Good," Terry smiled triumphantly. "Now, I think we should go get some dinner at Sensi."

Rusty brightened. "You still doing that thing with the chocolate and the salted praline ice cream?"

Terry glanced at him contemplatively. "You eat too many desserts. You're going to have to work on that."

He frowned and there was a sort of buzzing in his head, an uneasiness. It almost sounded like Danny. "I like desserts though," he objected, and it took such an effort.

The look was cold. "We'll see."

The next few days – weeks – were blurry. Seemed like he spent half his time with Terry and half his time asleep. And really, he didn't like Terry anymore than he ever had, and when he was on his own he found it difficult to care about what Terry said, but somehow when Terry was actually talking...every word was mesmerising.

He didn't know how to explain it. The closest comparison he had – the only comparison he had – was that it was like Danny. Like him and Danny, only without the emotions and the fun and the wonder. All there was was the need, desperate and inescapable and crushing.

He needed Terry.

It was actually a surprise to Rusty that Terry had friends. Not, he supposed that they were what he would call friends. But certainly Terry had people that he spent time with socially.

Rusty wanted them to like him. He thought it would make Terry like him. He needed Terry to like him. At least if Terry liked him this thing would make some kind of sense.

He spent the evening doing his best to impress them. His very best. He was charming and witty and he told stories and jokes and dealt cards, and Terry's friends were smiling and laughing, utterly captivated. He was a hit.

Later, after they were gone, as Terry was closing the door behind them, he was smiling. "I think they liked me," he said hopefully.

Terry closed the door and turned round slowly. "I don't want you ever showing me up like that again."

The smiled faded. "What?"

"My associates. My hotel. The attention should always be on me." He looked Rusty up and down, his lip curling contemptuously. "You are a joke, Ryan. A ridiculous, flamboyant, embarrassing joke."

"I...I..." The little voice of unease in his head was screaming that this was wrong, that he shouldn't take this. The voice sounded a lot like Danny and a little like him.

Terry walked over to him, anger in his eyes. "If you want to stay here, Ryan, you need to get your act together. You embarrass me again, this thing is over."

He stood his ground. "This thing?"

Terry leaned forwards and kissed him, forceful and demanding and domineering. There was no love. No passion, even. This kiss was all about ownership, and Rusty didn't understand why he wasn't pushing Terry away. It was like he'd been waiting for Terry to kiss him all his life. He didn't like it and all he could do was stand still and submit.

When he was done, Terry stood back and looked Rusty up and down. "Tomorrow, you go shopping. I want to see you wearing something that doesn't make my eyes bleed."

Silently he walked into the spare bedroom, laid down and waited for the nightmares.

He was late. Knew it too. He knocked on Terry's door and fervently hoped that Terry would let him in. He had no idea what he'd do if Terry decided to leave him out here.

He knocked again. Waited.

Eventually, after an interminable time, Terry opened the door, his mouth twisted with displeasure. "Where have you been?" he asked, as he stood back and let Rusty slink in.

"Out," he said shortly, because he didn't need to explain himself to Terry. At least, he didn't think he did. "Went shopping. Got distracted."

Terry nodded. "You're lying," he said calmly. "You were with Tishkoff. My men saw you. I do not appreciate being lied to. Least of all by you."

Rusty bit his lip. He was lying and he had been with Reuben. Listening to fervent worry and unsettling concern. Reuben seemed pretty convinced that there was some angle here. That Rusty was trying something. And the more Rusty tried to persuade him that no, he was on the level, he was spending time with Terry because he wanted to, the more Reuben had frowned and argued. And Rusty guessed he could understand that.

"Sorry," he muttered to Terry reluctantly. Whatever this was, whatever he was to Terry or Terry was to him, he supposed that lying was bad.

"That's not good enough, Ryan," Terry told him firmly. "You will not lie to me again. And in future I expect you to tell me where you are going beforehand."

"You want me to ask your permission?" he said incredulously.

Terry stared at him. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Yes," he said. Hell, yes. That was never going to happen.

The look of anger on Terry's face was frightening, somehow. And that wasn't right, because he liked annoying Terry. And since when had he ever been scared of Terry?

And then Terry stepped forwards and grabbed him, and crushed their mouths together, demanding his attention and obedience.

The kisses had been growing more frequent. He had grown to expect them. Rely on them, like he relied on Terry's voice and presence. There was no urge now, except to be still and submissive. The little Dannyvoice in his head was raging, but the words were garbled and unclear.

This time, Terry's hand ran down his back, forceful and possessive and physical, moving forwards, expecting more, and Rusty managed to step back, shaking his head. "No!" he said, and Terry sighed exaggeratedly at him.

"You will not lie to me. And you will tell me where you're going in future," Terry stated like there could be no possible argument.

Rusty almost managed to disagree. Almost. "No," he whispered weakly, and he didn't even nearly sound like he meant it.

He went to bed alone. The nightmares were more intense than ever.

Somehow, he was moving in with Terry. He didn't think they'd actually discussed it; Terry had just told him this was how it was going to be.

It had taken him a few weeks back home in L.A. to get his affairs in order. The hotel needed to be sold, his things needed to be packed up and put in storage. His staff had been sorry to see him leave. He'd been sorry to leave. Just that he didn't have a choice.

In the end he'd managed to get finished with all the legal niceties a few days early, and he'd flown back to Vegas, ready to surprise Terry.

He'd sneaked in. Let himself into Terry's place. Sat on the sofa in his stiff white shirt and his sober charcoal suit and waited for Terry.

It was a couple of hours before Terry swept in, flanked by the manager and head of security of the Bellagio. They froze on seeing Rusty, and then Terry frowned and waved a hand dismissively. "Gentlemen, I believe you know Rusty Ryan."

There was a series of muttered greetings, and they looked at Rusty with suspicion and confusion.

He watched unhappily as they discussed business extensively, running through timings and security changes and possible updates to the vault.

He kept his mouth shut until he saw the gap in their plans. Small details were easily missed. "If you're having the third shift change at ten exactly then there's going to be thirty seconds where there's only two guys out front," he pointed out. "It takes two minutes twenty seconds to walk from the security desk back to pit five. So you should..." He trailed off when he caught the way Terry was looking at him. Still, he was right and his jaw was set and the uneasy voice in his head was screaming defiance. But the longer Terry held his gaze, the louder the other voice became. The one telling him to back down. To submit. And that voice didn't sound at all like Danny. But it did sound like him.

Eventually he looked away. Returned to sitting on the sofa in silence.

Terry smiled, satisfaction oozing from his every pore. "Have the third shift start at nine forty-five," he ordered, turning away from Rusty like he'd forgotten him instantly.

Rusty gritted his teeth and tried to come up with reasons why he should stand up and argue.

The moment they were alone Terry turned on him. "I've asked you repeatedly not to show me up in public, Ryan."

"So it's alright in private?" Rusty shot back instantly.

There was a long silence. "I really don't care for your sense of humour. You're not nearly as funny as you seem to think. We're going to work on that."

Inexplicably a shudder of cold fear ran down Rusty's spine. "Terry," he said, and he didn't know what he was asking for, but he thought he was one step below pleading.

Terry ignored him. "And what are you doing back here? I thought I made it clear that you were to tell me your plans."

"I wanted to surprise you," he said weakly.

The look was absolute contempt. "I don't like surprises."

Of course not. He sagged in his seat, and he hated Terry, he really, truly hated Terry, and what was he doing here?

Terry was talking. Rusty had to listen. "You understand how this works? You see something wrong with the way I do business, you tell me when we're alone. You don't show me up in front of anyone."

He nodded mutely.

"Good." Terry straightened up and spread the plans to the Bellagio over the table. "Now. We're going to take the next few hours and you are going to tell me every crack in my security you see. Every little opportunity that you and Ocean used to jump on. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded again. "Yes, Terry."

He started sleeping more often again, and the nightmare grew more frequent and more intense. He wanted to fight but he couldn't remember how.

He had told Terry where he was going. He hadn't been late back. He hadn't interrupted any plans or been disrespectful or done any of the things Terry had forbidden.

He'd done nothing. And that meant that really, the only thing that Terry could possibly be objecting to was that he'd come back happy.

Just an evening spent at Reuben's, and Saul had been there, and maybe they'd exchanged a look that they thought went over his head when he'd said no to pizza, but they hadn't pressed the point. They hadn't pressed any of the points, had barely mentioned Terry's name, and the one time he'd made some small, casual comment, he'd seen Reuben's mouth tighten and he'd seen the disquiet in Saul's eyes, and he hadn't wanted to say anymore.

Apparently Danny had been asking after him. It had been a long time since they'd spoken properly. Not since he'd started spending time with Terry. Somehow, every time he thought of calling Danny recently, he'd get distracted and end up doing something else. Forget why he had his phone in his hand. And when Danny phoned him, somehow it was just never a good time. And they didn't talk...

He missed Danny. He missed Danny so much.

But Saul and Reuben hadn't insisted on reliving any pointless arguments. They hadn't said anything that would make him stand up and walk out whether he wanted to or not.

Instead the conversation had been light and funny and he'd enjoyed himself. Felt so good to actually smile again. Felt so good to laugh. To relax.

And he'd still been smiling when he got back to Terry's. And Terry didn't seem to like that one bit.

"You ever think you spend too much time with your friends?" Terry asked him coldly as he was taking his jacket off.

He froze. He could hear the implication in Terry's voice, the suggestion, and he'd given up so much...but not this. Please, not this. "No," he said, and it was simple and it was final.

Terry nodded. "I think you do. I think we're going to have to – "

" – not that," he interrupted desperately. He wasn't going to back down. Not on this. It was far too important.

There wasn't any understanding in Terry's eyes. No compassion. And the little Dannyvoice in Rusty's head that just didn't shut up asked him again why he was with Terry, why he needed this. He ignored it. He just did.

"If they don't hear from me, they'll get worried," he pointed out to Terry and he let Terry draw his own conclusions. If Rusty's friends were worried they'd come looking. And Terry really hated it when all of them were in town.

He was careful not to breathe a sigh of relief when Terry glanced away, plainly backing down. Fuck, but that had been close. Not that Terry could have stopped him from seeing his friends if he wanted to...right?

Licking his lips, he glanced at the drinks cabinet. "Can I have a drink?"

"No," Terry told him absently. "You're really thirsty, get a glass of water."

Right. Wasn't exactly thirst that had him asking. Still, he crossed to the kitchen, carefully hanging his jacket up on the way. Terry hated it when he was untidy. And this was Terry's place he was living in, so that was reasonable enough.

He was just raising the glass of water to his mouth when Terry suddenly spoke. "You and me are going to have sex now."

The glass fell to the floor, smashing instantly. "What?" he said faintly. Not like he hadn't heard his share of pick-up lines. But the matter-of-fact inevitability...that was new.

Terry was looking at him. "We're going to have sex," he repeated. "All the times we've kissed...you can't tell me you've never thought about it."

He had. God help him, he had. More and more he found himself after the nightmares, after the kisses, wondering what it would feel like to have sex with Terry. And now it was going to happen.

There was no passion when they kissed. No romance. No sexual desire at all. Really, he'd swear that Terry wasn't interested in him or any other man. And yet they were going to have sex.

"Bedroom," Terry ordered and Rusty obeyed absently.

Terry's bedroom. He'd never been in it before. He stared at the bed with the dark green silk sheets and the neatly folded pyjamas on the pillow.

"Take your clothes off and bend over," Terry said, sounding impatient.

Rusty blinked. "What?"

"Do we have a problem?" Terry demanded.

The grin was wide and Rusty turned to face him slowly. "Oh, Terry. That's not the way this is going to go."

Terry stared at him, looking completely at sea. "What?"

"That's not the way this is going to go," Rusty explained again, clearly. "You want this to happen you're going to be – "

" – I am not doing that," Terry said furiously. "You submit to me, Ryan. That's the way this works. You submit."

"No," Rusty said simply. "Not going to happen." He looked at Terry for a long, silent moment, and he couldn't think of a single reason why he was here. Couldn't think of a single reason why he shouldn't just walk out. "See you, Terry."

He walked towards the door.

"Stop!" Terry told him sharply. "You will come back here this instant!"

He'd go see Danny. That's what he'd do. He'd go see Danny and he'd tell Danny everything that had happened the last few months and Danny would laugh, and there would be movies and whisky and chocolate, and he would smile again.

"Ryan, I'm ordering you to come back," Terry said, and his voice was raised and he sounded desperate.

Rusty didn't even look back. He just opened the door and walked out.

He got as far as the second floor before three of Terry's security guards grabbed him and started hauling him back upstairs.

He'd never dreamed Terry would go that far. What was the point? And he punched and kicked and struggled and he didn't think they even noticed, and he was deposited in a heap on Terry's living room floor and the security people left without a backwards glance.

Terry wasn't alone. There was a tall man in a white coat standing next to him. A man that Rusty had never seen before. A man that Rusty had often never seen before. A man holding a hypodermic syringe.

Rusty tried to run, but the needle was in his arm before he'd even got to his feet, and then the world was spinning, melting away.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice," he heard Terry say from a long way away.

"The reconditioning will cost you extra," the man said coldly. "He is not a good subject. I told you, you must make it clear to him who is in charge. Force him to acknowledge your superiority."

Rusty wanted to laugh and point out that there was no way in which Terry was superior to him. No way at all. But he didn't even have the strength to open his mouth. Danny, the cavalry arriving would be nice right about now.....

"Just do your job," Terry said, and his hand was on Rusty's jaw, turning Rusty's head this way and that and Rusty was powerless to stop him. "I need this plan to work."

He was strapped down and he couldn't move, and the needle in his arm hurt, and his eyes were forced open, the lights too bright and too blinding, and he couldn't look away and he couldn't scream, and he wanted to scream and the voices weren't soothing anymore the voices were furious and demanding and he was so frightened....

Danny. DannyDannyDanny DannyDanny. Please.

Terry's spare bedroom. Just the same old nightmare, then. He sighed and rolled over, glancing at the clock.

Wait.

That couldn't be right. The clock said it was eight in the morning, which was one thing, but the clock also said it was Tuesday. That had to be some kind of mistake. The last thing he knew it had been Saturday.

How could he have been asleep for three days?

He stared up at the ceiling. It was strange. Perhaps he was sick. He felt like he might have been sick. He felt...he wasn't sure. Weak. Empty. Drained. Something like that, anyway.

Slowly, he got up and got dressed, absently noting as he did so that his phone was missing. Oh, well. Wasn't that important. He'd look for it later, if he happened to remember.

When he walked out of the bedroom, Terry was there, going over the previous night's reports. Rusty stood against the wall and waited and said nothing.

"You're awake," Terry stated when he finally looked up.

"Yes," Rusty agreed and he wanted to ask how long it had been, wanted to know what was happening, wanted to think of some excuse for Terry that wouldn't make him look weak, but as Terry looked at him it didn't seem so very important anymore.

"Sit down," Terry said, nodding towards the kitchen. "Have some breakfast."

Silently, he found himself some coffee and toast and sat and ate it slowly. Felt like he hadn't eaten for days and still he had no appetite. Well, that probably added weight to the 'sick' theory.

"Do you still want to leave?" Terry asked casually, his eyes fixed on Rusty.

He frowned, not remembering, for a moment, what Terry was talking about. Oh, yes. Saturday night. There'd been something, some disagreement, and then he'd thought about going to visit Danny. Well, that could wait. He'd see Danny some other time. Not like he could remember what had been so urgent. "No," he told Terry softly. Leaving would mean....he needed Terry. No matter what.

"Good." Terry smiled coldly, and he stood up and kissed Rusty with hard, dispassionate force. Rusty sat still and waited and idly wondered if Danny missed him too. "Good," Terry said again as he straightened up. "I have a couple of meetings to go to today," he added dismissively, looking at his watch. "I'll be back at exactly six fifteen. At that point, I expect to walk in here to see you naked and bent over that bed. Is that clear?"

Rusty nodded silently and sipped at his coffee.

"I don't care what you do till then," Terry went on. "Watch some TV if you like."

"Thank you," Rusty said, brightening slightly. TV would be good. He didn't watch a whole lot of TV anymore. Terry said that movies and TV shows were for those who lacked vision and imagination.

Terry was back at six fifteen.

Rusty was waiting. Naked and bent over the bed and bored.

He heard the sharp intake of breath as Terry saw him. Stayed absolutely still, and he could feel Terry looking at him.

"Good. You did as I said," Terry told him, sounding breathless and incredulous.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed disinterestedly, and he heard the sound of a drawer opening, Terry fumbling with something, and then the snap of a bottle opening. Oh, that was a relief. He hadn't gone looking for anything but it would hurt without.

Terry kept his clothes on. Just as well; Rusty had absolutely no interest in seeing him naked.

The sex was almost clinically dispassionate. Terry wasn't interested in him, Terry just wanted to prove who was in charge. If it came to that, Rusty was pretty sure that Terry had never done this with a man before. There was a certain hesitation, a slight, fairly-well-hidden uncertainty. He grinned to himself, his head buried in his arms. He'd have to tell Danny that they could add this to the list of things that Terry knew nothing about, right along with dancing, cocktails and comedy.

"Has Ocean ever done this to you?" Terry asked suddenly, his hand heavy between Rusty's shoulderblades.

"No," Rusty answered truthfully, startled at the question.

"Pity," Terry said shortly. "Still, imagine if he could see us now." He sped up. "I wish he could see us now."

Rusty grinned to himself again. "Never figured you for an exhibitionist, Terry."

For the first time ever, he heard Terry laugh. "It's not me I want him looking at," he said, and then his fingers were curling against Rusty's back.

Moments later and Terry was moving away from him and Rusty could hear him zipping up his fly.

He turned round slowly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and listening in bewilderment to the distant screaming in his head.

"Go get yourself cleaned up," Terry said contemptuously. "From now on you're ready anytime I say."

He would be. Terry said and he would be. He just didn't know why.

He walked through the crowds of people half a step behind Terry and a little to the left. Terry had told him to make sure he was meek, unassuming and unobtrusive, a candle to Terry's star.

"You should have plenty of practice," Terry had said. "Just act like you do with Ocean." The smile was cold and wide. "Be the sidekick, just like always."

That had hurt, though he'd tried his best not to let it show.

They mingled. Made small talk. Rusty smiled and hung on Terry's every word and made soft sounds of agreement. Not like he had a choice; Terry's voice was just endlessly fascinating to him.

He was agreeable and compliant and entirely subordinate to Terry.

He really hoped that no one he knew saw him. So much that he didn't know how to explain.

This was a whole new life he was in the middle of and he really hated it. He watched a tray of canapés drift past, and Terry didn't need to notice and didn't have to actually say a word for Rusty to hear the sharp disapproval and the order to leave them alone. Terry found his eating habits an embarrassment.

The shirt he was wearing was uncomfortable and he resisted the urge to pull at the collar.

"Something wrong?" Terry asked him in a low voice, a smirk on his face.

He shook his head quickly. Terry had picked his clothes for tonight. Said it was important to him. Said he didn't trust Rusty to dress himself.

"You look very nice tonight," Terry told him, and the compliment was unexpected. Never what they were about. "Like a trophy wife. Or a tamed pet."

Oh. That felt closer to normal. He swallowed, and lately it was getting harder and harder for him to answer Terry back. He just didn't think of anything. The blush rose in his cheeks, and he could say nothing.

"My trophy wife," Terry went on, looking at him closely, his smile triumphant. "My tamed pet."

Sex with Terry had become a regular part of Rusty's life. He didn't enjoy it and it sure as hell wasn't satisfying in any of the conventional ways. But that didn't matter. He needed it now. Just like he'd started off just needing to be near Terry and then he'd needed Terry's kisses, now he needed this.

He was ready whenever Terry told him. And that was a couple of times a week, maybe. Mostly whenever Terry wanted to prove something.

He asked if Terry had seen his phone, said he wanted to phone Danny, and Terry had fixed him with a cold, dead stare and led him to a room in the Bellagio.

"You know this room?" Terry asked as they stood in the bedroom.

Rusty nodded. He did.

"Four months ago Ocean was sleeping right here in this bed," Terry said calmly.

Rusty nodded again. He knew that too. Four months ago he'd been lying in this bed with Danny, sharing a bottle of wine and a pizza, watching Nicole Kidman in 'The Stepford Wives' and discussing the best way to keep Terry out of his casino. Fourth months ago he'd fallen asleep in this bed and woken up with Danny's arm slung around his chest. Fourth months ago he'd been lying in this bed and he'd been happy.

"Take your clothes off and lie down," Terry ordered. "Lie down in Ocean's bed and let me screw you."

He wasn't happy anymore.

He lay back on Danny's bed, pulled his legs up to his chest and waited for Terry.

He was just stepping out the shower when he heard raised voices coming from the other room.

Huh. That was odd. He pulled a towel round his waist absently and listened harder, wondering what was going on. The voices grew louder and he froze.

Danny.

That was Danny out there.

Danny was in Terry's living room, yelling.

He stumbled out of the bathroom in time to catch the end of the conversation.

"I want to see him right now," Danny was demanding, and his eyes were wild and there was blood at his mouth and a couple of Terry's security guards were holding his arms.

"I'm afraid he's in the shower at the moment," Terry said, and Rusty could hear the smile in his voice. "We were rather active earlier. He worked up a sweat."

"Liar!" Danny snarled.

Terry turned and the smile was everything Rusty had been picturing. Cold and triumphant and snake-like. "I'm not, you know. Why don't you ask him for yourself."

Danny was staring at him now, and Rusty hated it. All he was wearing was the towel, and for the first time ever, for the first time in his life he was self-conscious in front of Danny. For some unfathomable reason, he didn't want Danny seeing him like this.

"Rus'?" Danny said, soft and uncertain, and he could hear the plea, Danny begging him, Danny wanting to know that Terry was lying.

Except Terry wasn't lying of course.

If Danny had come in ten minutes ago, he would have seen Rusty lying on his back with his legs spread over Terry's shoulders.

He shrugged. He didn't know what to say. "We had sex. I needed a shower." It was as simple as that, and yet Danny looked like he couldn't believe it.

Terry crossed over to him and stroked his hand across Rusty's bare shoulder.

Danny gasped softly, and Rusty's eyes were fixed on Terry. Terry didn't like it when he paid attention to anyone else.

Terry leaned in close and kissed him, hard and dispassionate and controlling, and Rusty's eyes were open and he could see that Terry was looking past him. Terry was looking at Danny and making it absolutely clear that he was in charge, making it absolutely clear that he owned Rusty.

Rusty was just glad that he didn't have to look at Danny.

"Why?" Danny demanded quietly, and Rusty didn't know what he was asking.

Terry's arm curled across Rusty's shoulders, pulling him close and holding him tight, and he turned and showed his teeth to Danny. "You take things from me. My name. My reputation. My money. I thought I should take something from you in return. Seems fair, doesn't it?"

Danny snarled again. "I'm going to – "

" – besides," Terry interrupted sharply. "He's here because he wants to be. I'm not keeping him here against his will. He asked for my company when he came here, isn't that right, Ryan?"

"I said I wanted to spend time with you," Rusty agreed softly.

"And do you want to leave now?" Terry went on. "Do you want to go with Danny?"

For a moment he struggled. Danny. Danny was right there and he wanted to be with Danny, he wanted Danny to take him home, look after him, laugh with him...but Danny would hardly look at him, and even when he did it was like he didn't know him anymore.

Still, he struggled. Hesitated. And he saw Terry's lips tighten, and he saw the way Terry's eyes flickered to the goons holding Danny, and he could see what was going to happen.

He turned his back on Danny and gazed at Terry adoringly. "I want to stay with you," he said sincerely. "Please let me stay with you."

"You see?" Terry was triumphant. "You're wasting your time, Ocean. He's mine."

"Fine," Danny said, and his voice was full of defeat and disgust. "I'll see you around, Rus'."

He didn't watch as Danny turned to leave, the security guards right behind him. And Terry made sure that Danny wasn't quite out of earshot when he said, "Drop that towel and bend over the sofa. Right now."

Rusty obeyed immediately.

Danny didn't look back.

He was sitting up, surrounded by people. Moving. A plane.

All that...all that with Terry was that just a nightmare? Fuck.

He opened his eyes and looked round surreptitiously. Well, no one was looking at him strangely. That was something. But his hands were shaking and, irrationally (he hoped), he was afraid that this was the dream. He was afraid that any moment now he was going to wake up, helpless and Terry's.

He took a deep breath. Looked for what was real.

He needed...he needed...three rows down and two seats to the right was the person he needed most in the world, right now, and the thought had him on his feet almost at once, anxious and desperate and needing.

Wasn't till he was standing in the aisle that he froze.

Suppose it was Terry?

Suppose it was Terry, sitting there, waiting for him with orders and suggestions and things he needed to work on and power he couldn't fight.

He was being irrational. He was being ridiculous. He...had to be sure.

Casually – quickly – he walked up the aisle (and he wasn't looking, he wasn't, because he didn't dare) and smiled down at the woman sitting in the next seat, dazzling and desperate. "Hi. Do you mind if I sit next to my friend for a bit? My seat is just down there, if you want to trade."

She looked up at him and stared. "Oh! Oh...hi. Hi. Yes, of course. Yes, you can sit anywhere you like..." She got to her feet and squeezed past him, maybe a little closer than she needed to, and walked down to his seat, looking back at him.

Danny blinked up at him sleepily. "Think you overdid it, maybe?"

(Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.)

Relief at seeing Danny was instant and overwhelming and he sat down heavily in the empty seat and said nothing, just needing to know that Danny was there and that he was safe and that he was himself.

He wasn't looking at Danny. But he could feel Danny looking at him. Could feel the gaze getting sharper, more anxious. "What?" Danny asked.

Rusty shrugged.

"Bad dream?" Danny checked gently and he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Danny knew he'd been asleep. That Danny could see he was shaken.

He nodded briefly and it was only the presence of other people that was stopping him from reaching out, pressing as close to Danny as he could, burying himself in Danny's arms, holding on and never letting go.

"One of the usual?" Danny pressed, even more gently, and they both did have a few recurring nightmarememories, courtesy of days that had gone very wrong indeed. This wasn't any of them.

He shook his head. "I'm not having dinner with Terry Benedict," he told Danny softly.

There was a frown. "When did that become a serious plan?" Danny wondered.

"It isn't," Rusty said, firmly and definitely and pleadingly. "Never."

Danny shot him a quick look of understanding. "Never," he agreed and it wasn't just about placating him, and Danny reached out and grasped his hand briefly. "I promise."

He sighed, relaxing impossibly, and he leaned back in his seat and took comfort in Danny's presence.

"Coffee?" the air hostess murmured to them, walking past.

His eyes snapped open. "Please," he said gratefully, and he took the cup and gulped at it quickly. No milk and no sugar, and he didn't care.

Danny sipped at his cup more slowly. "I do have to wonder when Terry got scary," he murmured.

"His sex face is," Rusty said grimly.

With an incredulous choking noise, Danny spat out his coffee. "I don't want to know about Terry Benedict's sex face!" he said loudly.

Rusty held his breath for a long, hopeful moment.

For a moment he thought they'd got away with it. Just for a moment. Then Basher's head popped up from the seat in front. "What did you just say?" he demanded, disbelievingly.

Danny sighed. "Never mind. Forget it."

Basher was staring at Rusty. "You and Terry Benedict?"

"No!" Rusty denied immediately.

A second later and Livingston looked over the chair next to Basher. "Rusty slept with Terry Benedict?"

"No!" Danny protested, just as vehemently. "That never happened."

Rusty, remembering how it had felt when it never happened, couldn't help but shudder, and he could feel people staring at him. Oh, this was just great.

"Really?" Livingston sounded doubtful.

It was pretty much inevitable that the noise was going to attract Linus and Reuben. Any kind of commotion and they wanted to be part of it. "What's going on?" Linus asked.

"Rusty slept with Terry Benedict," Basher explained.

"Rusty didn't sleep with Terry Benedict," Danny corrected through gritted teeth. "We were just talking and Basher got the wrong idea."

"You were talking about his sex face," Basher pointed out. "How else would Rusty get to see his sex face?"

Reuben looked slightly ill. "You didn't, right?"

"No!" Rusty said immediately.

Linus was frowning. "Rusty and Terry? How would that even work anyway?" he wondered.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

He blushed. "I don't mean...." He paused and seemed to reconsider. "Actually, you know what? I do mean. How would that work? Because you're all..." he waved a hand vaguely, "And Terry's like..." he waved the other hand. "So how would that work?"

Rusty didn't want to talk about it. Rusty didn't want to think about it. Rusty just wanted to find someplace to curl up and concentrate on never sleeping ever again.

Danny glanced at him and obviously the concern was overriding and Danny's patience was at an end. "Okay," he said, smiling up at the others with bright unpleasantness. "Anyone who knows for a fact that we don't have anything on them should feel free to stay and talk about this some more. Everyone else...." He left the sentence hanging. Not that he needed to say anymore. Livingston and Basher had ducked away at the first sight of the smile. Linus hurried away shortly after. Only Reuben lingered for a second, looking anxiously at Rusty and looking at Danny like he was trying to figure something out.

"Reuben," Danny said softly, and a second later Reuben nodded and walked away.

"Thanks," Rusty said quietly.

"Sex with Terry is that bad, huh?" Danny said lightly.

Rusty shuddered again. "Full on Stepford," he explained.

"Oh." Danny's eyes widened. "Katharine Ross or – "

" – Nicole Kidman," Rusty corrected.

"Oh," Danny said again, gentle horror in his voice. "That's it. No more horror movies before bed."

"It's not really a horror movie," Rusty pointed out. The movie wasn't what was scary.

Danny shrugged. "It's a bad movie."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed hollowly. And more than that. "You walked away." He signalled the stewardess for another cup of coffee and drank it down as fast as possible.

Danny's eyes were dark. "Terry did that, huh? "

Rusty glanced at him quickly. "In my dream. You can't go after him for something I dreamt."

The smile was fierce and gentle, all at once. "You underestimate me."

He wasn't really in a place where he felt like arguing. Instead, he glanced at his empty coffee cup and wondered if there was any Red Bull around.

"Not planning on sleeping anytime soon, huh?" Danny asked wryly.

Rusty shook his head. Never again. Not if he could help it.

"Right. This is going to be a fun few days." And Danny's words might sound irritated, but his tone was understanding and his hand was back on Rusty's, squeezing reassuringly, promising that no matter what the problem was, no matter how stupid or irrational, Danny would be there. Danny cared. "I promise you, Rus'. You ever get turned into Terry's brainwashed sex slave? I won't walk away."

He smiled. That was all he wanted to know. He rested his head on Danny's shoulder, closed his eyes and slept.

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think.