Warning: slash innuendo, sexual references, and non-words.
Captive Night
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He found him bound to the bed, one wrist handcuffed to the metal bars of the headboard, crumpled pages from a magazine crowded into his mouth, looking... ravished.
Seth was looking on with wry resignation when Ryan burst in, apparently mistaking him for the jerks that had done this to him. His eyes instantly lit up with joy and relief once he saw his face.
Ryan shared that relief wholeheartedly, but the anger bubbling in his chest at that moment was quickly drowning it. He'd rushed here the second after he'd beaten the motel room key out of those brats, but the next time he saw them he'd make sure to spend more quality time with them.
He strode over to the bed, sat down on the bedside, and immediately began to attack the restraining piece -- they had used Seth's own tie to join his right hand to the handcuffed left. Ryan grumbled as he struggled with the knot, while the captive bounced his back on the bed impatiently, the muffled sounds hinting that he might have preferred the gag taken off first.
Ryan's fury subsided a little, making room for the familiar amused not-quite-annoyance. "Be still, Seth."
He managed to loosen the knot, then Seth, thinking his hand was already freed, tried to pull it away, and promptly knotted it back. Ryan glared.
Sorry, Seth's eyes said sheepishly. Ryan huffed, and got back to work on it once more.
The second attempt didn't take as long, and the tie came off finally. Seth tugged a little, hesitant from the bad experience, then, finding that his right hand was definitely free, immediately set out to remove the gag.
"Phht!" He spitted a little, trying to get the papery taste out of his mouth. The action arched his back, making a pull at his still handcuffed left wrist. He winced and ouch-ed, and turned to see Ryan watching him quietly.
Not a good sign. "...You don't have the key for this?"
Ryan shook his head. "I didn't know they used a handcuff. Where the hell did they get it from?"
"Picked it up from the beach. The same place they saw me walking alone looking oh-so-suited for their fun purposes."
To think that they had come all this way to Long Beach to attend this party thrown by an old friend of Summer's, and still he would bump into the likes of the water polo guys. Maybe he was just destined to have a love-hate relationship with beach parties. He loved them, they hated him.
"Told you to stay with us," Ryan said, then paused, only then remembering their other companies. He pulled out his cell phone.
"Yeah, a charming third wheel like me should definitely stay around," Seth replied, no real sarcasm in his tone. It wasn't anyone's fault that Summer had felt obliged to go talk to their host. "Hey, Summer's with Marissa now, isn't she? For sure shouldn't be alone around this place, as I've been the living proof of, though I think she may well be capable of beating the hell out of--"
Ryan merely nodded as the call connected. "Marissa? Yeah, I found Seth. We are--" Seth's knees began nudging him frantically, and Ryan turned to glare at him.
No, Seth mouthed, shaking his head and pointing at himself.
Too bad Ryan's sign language skills weren't up to Summer's level. "What?" he asked aloud.
Seth made more wild gestures at the phone.
"Ryan?" Marissa prompted from the other end of the line.
"Uh, anyway, he's okay," Ryan spoke into the phone, eyeing Seth who was watching expectantly. "We'll see you in a while." He listened as Marissa gave him their location. "Got it. Be careful. Bye."
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, and looked pointedly at Seth. "What was that about?"
"Hey, I absolutely refuse to be seen like this by the ladies, dude."
Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We have to do something about that handcuff."
"I'm all for it, buddy. So what's the plan?"
Ryan sighed again, his anger quite forgotten by now.
.
.
"What did they do to you?" Ryan asked. He was painstakingly sawing the chain using the metal plate that was the key-holder for the motel room key. They couldn't find anything else suitable.
Seth was suddenly mum at the question. Then, how typical of him, babbled the subject off. "Nothing much. You know how limited the creativity of this species is. Nothing new that our old friends in the polo team haven't come up with. Nothing that can shake the composure of a Cohen."
Ryan glanced at him. That translated to Something Very Bad. He recalled the state of Seth's appearance when he'd found him -- clothes all rumpled and off at places, hair sticking out messily as it still was now. He stopped, and reached out to give those dark curls a once-over with his fingers.
"Uh, thanks," Seth looked at him rather confusedly.
Ryan paused, only then realizing what he had done. "Sure," he muttered, drawing his hand back and ducked his head. Whatever possessed him to do that?
He forced himself to concentrate on freeing Seth's hand, only to be hit by another realization that his single companion was now bondaged, and to a bed. Damn.
"How did you know where I was?" Seth asked, and Ryan was grateful for the distraction for once.
"When Summer was back, she couldn't find you," Ryan replied. Bringing up Summer was good. Kept things in place. "And you didn't answer your phone, so we split out to search. I checked the beach, where I passed by these two guys mouthing off about making fun of a--" he shot a guilty look at Seth before quoting, "--'skinny little queer'."
"And you immediately associated that with me. Wow. I probably should be insulted, but I'm quite happy with the result, anyway."
Ryan's lips twitched up.
"It's a good thing they went out to get food, then. Can you imagine if they had ordered room service? Hm, not that this crappy motel will have that. Nah." He examined Ryan's face, a little dirty but otherwise bruise-free. "So of course, you squeezed the information out of them. Blood, gore and all."
"Blood, gore and all."
As the topic passed, Seth looked around. "One moment please," he said, and Ryan drew back while Seth flipped onto his stomach and pushed himself up. His wrist made a turn inside the circular piece, and Ryan was the one who winced as he watched the reddened skin getting scratched even more. "What are you doing?"
"Thought this would be a more comfortable position," Seth said, struggling to sit cross-legged on the bed. The length of his arm didn't quite give much space for his legs unless he were to face away from Ryan, so he ended up crowding his limbs against the headboard.
Ryan raised his eyebrows.
"Turns out it's not," Seth grunted. He was about to flip again.
Ryan quickly caught his hand. "Stop that. You're hurting your hand." At Seth's pouting look, he sighed and turned back to the handcuff. "I'll make it fast."
With a matching sigh, Seth settled with supervision...
"Magneto will so not have a problem with this."
...and commentary.
"Just a little exertion, and the sad little handcuff will mold itself into a shape of his choice. A sword. A knife. Or a tiny secret weapon, that's much cooler. Like the ones the Ninjas throw around. Pssing! Pssing!" He made several throwing gestures with his free hand.
Ryan had no idea who Magneto was and the Ninjas' weapons were too small to observe on Playstation, so he gave no satisfying response.
Seth steered the wheel, as usual, out of the blue. "Do I really look that gay?"
Ryan had to stop. But Seth didn't look upset, much.
"I mean, these guys had only just met me, and already they were calling me queer. Almost like Luke and his friends left a neon sign on my forehead for everybody to read."
Ryan weighed his answer. "I think you just look... bulliable."
"Bulliable, huh? Should have worked out more, you think? Like, man, how do you get those muscles on you?"
"...Practice," Ryan answered shortly. He'd stopped feeling proud of his fights since he passed thirteen.
"Practice. We should practice together then."
Ryan looked at him skeptically.
"What? Practice is good. Practice trains the body and the mind. Practice builds the character and chases the evil away. You may snicker, my friend, but I have turned from my misguided ways and seen the light. Starting today I will be all for competitive sports."
Ryan nodded obligingly. "Right."
"But enough of the gloomy business. This place needs some serious brightening up. Hey, how about you and Marissa, you guys enjoyed yourselves? Surely things were getting much warmer after I left?"
Ryan recognized that mental poke at his side. "None of your business, Seth."
"You're being thrifty as usual, Ryan. Have we been falling behind in your education? Don't I always share with you everything that happens between me and my sweet Summer? Not that anything much has happened this time around, sadly, which is why you have to be the one supplying the stories."
If both his hands had been free Seth would've undoubtedly been rubbing them together in anticipation. Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"So? Fire away. I'm listening."
"No," Ryan knocked his sawing tool on Seth's knuckles.
"Ow, no abusing the prisoner, please. And if you don't speak up I will be forced to make up a story to feed my starving imagination, so go ahead and exercise your right to remain silent if you'd rather hear my spiced up version instead."
Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Speaking of abusing the prisoner," he said, picking up a piece of the crumpled magazine earlier.
"Dude," Seth recoiled apprehensively. "You won't do that to me, right?"
"I don't know. Silence is so tempting sometimes."
"My good man, you mustn't give in. Remember, Ryan is kind. Ryan is considerate. Ryan doesn't make Seth suffer. Repeat after me, Ryan is--"
Ryan had to struggle to keep a straight face. "Seth."
"Shutting-up-now."
He really did keep quiet after that, silently disentangling his legs to lie down, propped on his stomach.
Ryan glanced up and saw his face turned on the side, eyes closed. He smiled slightly, then returned to the task at hand.
Not too long had passed when Seth opened his eyes again.
"Hey, you want to take turns?"
"Nah, it's fine."
"I'm bored."
Seth would be Seth, Ryan thought. The threat had apparently been forgotten. "You have only one hand now."
"And you think it should be harder to get bored because there are less hands to give jobs to."
"...No, I was thinking it should be harder to work on the chain."
"Oh. That works too."
A chattering noise from outside stopped him from saying more.
Vaguely familiar voices, and in close proximity.
Seth looked pained. "Shit. They came back."
He drew his knees and sat up, this time facing away from the headboard, leaving his bound hand hidden behind his back. Ryan put the key-holder down and stood up.
They watched as the door handle, left unlocked, turned.
A bruised face appeared on the door, and immediately paled.
"Shit. They're still here!"
"Totally sharing the sentiment there," Seth murmured.
The kid's friends followed his call and crowded around the door. The other one that Ryan had beaten up, and two more.
Ryan's gaze swept briefly across the bunch before turning to the first kid. "Give me the key to the handcuff."
A tall, tanned guy Ryan had not met stepped up instead. "What's the matter? You don't like S&M?"
The gang snickered, and Ryan's target retreated behind the new guy, glad of the rescue. Ryan shot them a nasty look.
Seeing the numbers and the fact that he could not very well flee the crime scene, Seth thought they needed a plan of the non-violent sort. "Ryan," he began, "why don't we--"
"Oh dear, the wife's calling," the tall guy mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Better not get into fights and go home soon--"
Ryan waited no longer. He plunged into his opponent, and a fistfight immediately started.
"Ryan!" Seth shouted with worry. Not exactly a good move, as it went ignored by Ryan, and instead reminded the other guys of his existence.
Seth looked nervously at the three who were starting to surround him. Really, shouldn't they show more loyalty and go support their friend in battle?
"Hey, guys," he managed, "you know what, it will be in our mutual interest that we leave as soon as possible. It's late at night, you must be tired, you have a nice bed here and all. So how about we open this little handcuff and go on with our own lives, quietly and peacefully?"
The other new guy, with freckles on his face, smirked. "A smart-mouth, eh," he chucked. "Say, why don't we put that skillful tongue to a better use?"
Oh, not that please, Seth thought, slightly panicking. It was bad enough getting silly disgusting things done to him earlier without them having him do those to them.
He glanced at Ryan, who was kept busy by the tall guy. No rescue in sight.
The freckled kid started towards him, and Seth hastily drew his knees up in an attempt to regain the distance.
That gave him a sudden idea.
He slowly straightened his legs back. "So come here," he said, mimicking Ryan's deadpan voice.
The Freckle's eyes lit up in amusement. He leaned closer, and Seth counted silently in his head before throwing his legs around the guy's neck and keeping him in as tight a lock as he could manage. What d'ya know, all those skateboarding turned out to be good practice after all.
"Whoa! Ow!" the Freckle yelled in panic. His head was turned in an uncomfortable angle.
His friends quickly backed away. "Cool it! Cool it! You want to kill him?"
"Don't care if I do," Seth threatened, though his hands were sweating and his heart was pounding. He took a quick look at Ryan's fight, and his eyes widened as he saw a knife in Ryan's opponent's hand. "Hey! Stop that guy!"
"Dan! Stop the fight! The skinny guy has Ritchie!"
He had to shout it twice before Dan took notice, looked over, and grudgingly pushed Ryan away. Ryan turned too, and Seth noticed the surprise on his face, which made him feel rather proud of himself.
"Okay," he said. "Now key please?"
The first guy stared at the Freckle regretfully. "We don't have it."
"What?" Seth almost loosened his hold on his hostage. Besides, his legs were getting tired.
Ryan wisely came to his side, ready to back him up. Seth secretly breathed in relief.
But back to the main issue. "You really don't have it?" he asked unhappily.
"We picked that up on the beach! You expect us to have the key?"
"Well, you should have looked it up too! One should not exist without the other! Like Adam and Eve, Batman and Robin--"
Seth stopped as Ryan had suddenly gripped his restrained hand without a word. He looked at Ryan questioningly, but Ryan's eyes were turned at Dan.
"Knife," he said, his hand held out, his eyes fixing Dan with a menacing stare.
Dan stared back. All eyes were on him now. The Freckle's were especially imploring.
With a grunt, he hold out his knife.
Ryan snatched it and turned back to Seth. His teeth were gritted, and for a moment Seth thought Ryan was going to cut his hand, which was totally absurd.
Ryan held Seth's hand well away from the sharp object, stretching the chain, and used the knife to saw it. It was certainly faster compared to using the blunt key-holder, though Dan would need a new knife after this.
Among the silenced audience, Seth found himself very aware of the contact, and felt his face starting to warm up. His legs loosened up, and his hostage scrambled away, but the gang didn't try anything else.
The chain gave way after what felt like forever. Seth didn't waste a moment to jump up and break through the crowd to the door, pulling Ryan's hand.
"All right, we're leaving. You won't see us again. Goodbye."
Four water polo team potentials plus Ryan with a sharp object just spelled trouble, and he'd had enough of that for a day. Or a month.
Ryan dropped the knife on the doorstep as they made their way out.
.
.
"The air of freedom," Seth announced when they got outside the building, his two hands lifted up dramatically.
Ryan spared a glance at his own wrist, which had just been released from Seth's hold. Then he pulled out his phone.
One missed call from Marissa. A following message giving the name of the hotel the girls had checked in to and the room numbers. He informed Seth of it while typing a reply.
"We'd better go fast," Seth said, checking his own phone. Lots of missed calls from Summer. She must be worried sick by now, and while Seth would be happy to receive such attention, it would probably come with a matching rage blackout.
"You forgot?" Ryan asked, gesturing to the metal piece still circling Seth's left wrist.
"Ouch. Yeah. Such an old friend, I'm becoming one with it. Now what should I do?"
"Find an ironsmith?"
Seth looked around. "Where?"
"'Find' being the operative word."
Seth tried to persuade himself that Ryan picking up his sarcasm was a good thing. "Okay. Where shall we start?"
"Put your skillful mouth to use, Seth."
Seth jumped. "Wh-what?"
Ryan gave him a funny look. "Ask someone."
Oh. Bad Freckle memory.
Ryan started to walk, and Seth hastened to follow.
"Wait. What if they get suspicious? Not that I have a criminal face -- as has been proven time and again, I have a bulliable face. But it's the middle of the night, and--"
"We'll worry about it when we find them. Now let's go."
This time it was Ryan who dragged Seth by the hand.
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