"I'll try to be speedy. Although I'll say that your version of 'under control' is very different from my version." Unless Sam meant that he was no under Cheon's control. He supposed on that front, things really might just be all sorted. Fuck.
He patted himself down, looking through various coat pockets. "Most of these cuffs use similar keys. Let's see."
Barty had found a small key, which he used on the cuffs now. It needed some fiddling around, but eventually the handcuffs did spring open and Sam was free. "No need to thank me. Unless you're feeling it."
Of course. He carried cuff keys around. God, he fucking hated him. Sam scrambled, eager to just get up and off the bed, he basically sprinted off it so fast, he lost his balance entirely and crashed onto the floor. God, his head hurt so bad and the motion of falling kept him hunched on the floor, unable to get himself back up.
Why was the world like this? Every time he had a win, someone had to fucking take it from him. "You can fuck off now, you've had a look."
He really didn't want Barty to see him like this. It was embarrassing.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sam." Barty had already filled the kettle and after putting it on to boil, he bent down next to Sam, reaching for his arm so he could help him up. "You can't be alone right now, you might have averse reactions or after-effects still, you know that. Do you need to be sick?"
He was ready to lead him to the bathroom. "That wasn't just crystal meth. Cheon's part of the Dark Dragons, they are big in South Korea. Do a lot with drugs. That was definitely laced with something. Make it more addictive." More of an aphrodisiac too, but he didn't say that out loud.
That explained why his brain was already itching like crazy and telling him that if he just had more, he wouldn't be in this sort of pain. He knew that was an awful idea but there was part of him that was tempted. Anything to get rid of the headache. He had anxiety surging through him and he couldn't get certain things out of his head.
He could still see Cheon over him and he didn't want to see it. "I need a shower." Cheon fucked him, didn't he? Cheon fucked him on camera. What was he supposed to do about that.
Pushing himself up, he stabilised himself on the wall to get up without help. "I'll shower and -- and then it's fine."
"I'll take you to a hospital, Sam. You need to get that stuff out of your system." The faster the better, just in case. Might make it a bit easier to deal with the long-term effects too. "And you need to get tested."
Barty watched Sam, wanting to help him more. He didn't think that Sam would be able to shower properly right now. "At least shower sitting down, aye? I'm assuming I can't offer assistance with it."
Not that he expected that would be especially erotic, given what a state Sam was in.
"I'm not going to a hospital. No, this is not going beyond this room. No one at my work will know, no one I know will know. This stays between us and -- and Cheon, that bastard. I will sort it out, I'll get the footage and we--we-we pretend it never happened." Sam suggested, somewhat manic in his movements as he laughed a panicked laugh and started to undo the buttons on his shirt. Or he tried, it was hard with shaking hands.
"It can't be reported. It's fine, I know about drugs. I did courses on them. It's possible to get through a meth crash with the right tools." That a hospital had but he could do it at home. He just had to be careful. Hundreds of thousands of people did meth and survived. He would too.
Barty watched him, at the ready so he could move forward and step in should it be necessary. Which he deemed to happen very fast, because he was losing his patience watching Sam fumble around with those buttons. He moved forward and slapped his hands away, undoing the buttons for him. "Your work is going to notice something is off, Sam. You're not that odd usually."
Well. "Almost, but not quite. And how exactly do you plan on getting that footage? You know Cheon wants you to play ball."
Which he knew Sam was never going to do. "One step after another, darling. Let's get you showered, aye? Then we can discuss it."
"People don't have to know or... God, they'll suspend me."
He was so thrown by the horror of being benched by his work that he didn't even protest Barty undoing his buttons for him. Once they were done, he shrugged the shirt off and ran his fingers through his hair. He was still sweating like crazy and he hadn't even had time to think about the 'getting tested' comment because his brain was swimming in a stew of chemicals.
"I don't want anyone to know." He looked at Barty and suddenly desperation made his voice crack, his eyes welling with tears. "I really don't. Please."
"Shh, darling. It's all right. It will all be all right." Barty didn't exactly know how, but he could hope. Take it step by step. For now he helped Sam take his pants off and then he helped him into the shower. He made sure he was leaning properly against the wall before he started the water. It couldn't hurt, at the very least, to allow him to wash. "I won't tell anyone."
And he was going to handle Cheon. Very quickly and very efficiently. He had messed with the wrong cop, sick bastard.
Barty used the shampoo, gently washing Sam's hair for him. "You'll have to call out of work."
"It can be a secret. I can find the footage, I can-- he won't put it online, will he?" Oh God, the idea scared the hell out of him. He got rid of the soap in his hair quickly. He tilted his head back and let the water hit him in the face because he wanted to try and hide from Barty that he was crying. He didn't know if it was helping, given the sobs were making his chest heave.
It was going to be fine, he would make sure of it. He just had to keep covering it up. "I'll text Gene. I dunno where my phone is... he took it from me."
"Your phone will be somewhere here. Just like they cleaned up properly. They are covering their tracks." No way there would be any semen traces left behind or anything, for better or worse. Barty knew who it was, he'd make sure he'd suffer for it. He didn't care how thorough they might have been.
All he cared about was pulling Sam into his arms and holding him close, even if that meant he was slowly getting soaked. "He won't put it online. He just wants it as insurance."
That was how it always worked. "Threatening your career, family, relationships."
"Fuck." He didn't really want to cry in Barty's arms but apparently that was what he was doing. Shit, he was soaking Barty's clothes too. He was really holding his shit together today, huh? This was humiliating and he had no idea what the hell his next step was. Tell Gene he was sick and hope he actually left him alone? How did he even begin to explain this to Gene?
"I still hate that you were right." Sam muttered as he pulled back from Barty and ran his hand over his face. "Pisses me off to no end."
"If it helps, darling, it's not as if I knew that it would lead to this. I'd have never let them touch you if I had known. No matter how stubborn you'd have been about it." Somewhat right, but not right enough. He kept a hand on Sam's arm, just in case. "Come on. Let's get you dried and dressed and then we can figure out what's next."
Unfortunately no change of clothes for him, so that was bound to get clammy. Well, one problem at a time.
As Sam left the shower, he grabbed a towel and dried his hair first, tying it around his waist as he looked at Barty for a moment. Well, given he was here for him, as fucking always, and offering to help him then he may as well relent on something. "I didn't... I didn't toss all your shit out like I said I did."
Okay, he was pathetic. He kept Barty's stuff. Whatever. He was already a pathetic loser right now, why not add to it?
He walked back into the bedroom and opened the closet, gesturing at the bottom shelf inside. "In the ASDA bag. I think you left some joggers here before. Some t-shirts. Was gonna toss 'em but..." The feelings won out. "No time."
"That's handy." That was also making him feel so many things that his heart was going crazy from it, but he was trying to play it cool. What he wanted was to kiss Sam right now. Would it be so wrong?
For the moment, he took the bag and set it down on the ground, then began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes on Sam, who was getting dressed. "Thank you for not tossing it. I like those joggers."
Not that he was really lacking clothes, but this was different. These were the ones he wore the most around Sam. "I've stopped, you know?" He shrugged out of his wet shirt and folded it up to set it aside. "Because you told me it bothers you. I've stopped fucking around."
"I have trouble letting go of things." Sam knew that was true or he wouldn't still have his dad's jacket stashed in the same wardrobe too. Besides, he had known Barty since they were 15 and he had loved him not much longer after that. When they finally did get together, it felt incredible. Removing Barty from his life was near impossible. So what if he kept his hoodie and sometimes slept with it. It was how he coped.
Sam finished pulling on his shirt and then sat on the bed, his pyjama pants in his hands.
"Apparently I've started. Bad timing there." He smiled sadly and then shrugged his shoulders. "You can sleep around, it's your business."
"It's not. Not if it hurts you. Or if it makes you do insane things like subject poor women to dates with you." Barty pulled on one of the T-shirts and then undid his jeans, not really feeling like having this conversation while in his pants. Apparently it was what they were doing though. "None of what I did--"
How much could he even get into this? It was pointless anyway. He focused on what mattered. "I never lied about how I felt. I love you. I don't think I can ever not love you."
"Trouble is, you think that's the problem. I know you loved me, you know I loved you. You lied to me. You broke my trust. You fucking used me. You know I never wanted to be bent and you made me bent." And whether or not Barty intended it for the greater good or whatever he thought he was doing for the city, it was a violation. And he was still struggling with it.
He gave up on pants and looked aimlessly around the room, unable to find any energy to stand and look for his phone. "You made a fool. Why? I don't get why you would do it. If you loved me, you loved me poorly."
"I knew that I'd lose you if you knew me the way I really am. I suppose knowing that I had to lie about that or break everything, that made it easy to justify some more lies along the way." There was no way to be entirely open with Sam. Or there hadn't been, anyway. Not for him. Not when he was itching under his skin to bring about something, for better or worse. Change.
"Perhaps I'm not good at love." Obviously not. "People have always been difficult for me." He paused at that, getting the joggers out of the bag. Then he pulled them on and looked at Sam again, taking a step closer. "I guess that's the wrong word. They've been easy for me. Easy to figure out. To manipulate. I could just watch them and figure them out."
"You play with people, I've watched you do it. I knew you did it. I guess I just thought I was the exception. Guess not." Sam smiled sadly and then just let himself fall back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his hand. It wasn't worth getting upset over now, he had enough to worry about. Barty was what he was and it stung, it really did and it always would but what else could he do about it?
"I need my phone. Can you find it for me? Otherwise Gene is going to burst in here soon and I don't want to deal with that." His head hurt enough.
"You were the exception. Often." Not often enough, Barty supposed. He sighed and walked over to where Sam's jacket was, not surprised to find his phone there. He checked it for missed calls or messages, relieved to see nothing on the screen, then he walked over to the bed and handed the phone to Sam. He sat down on the edge of the bed, since it wasn't as if there was enough space on there for two people.
"I'm speaking openly now. I will deal with Cheon. You'll get the footage and no one else will ever have to know it exists."
"I can't do that." And he wanted to, so desperately, but he couldn't - right? Could he do that? He didn't want anyone to know and he would end up bent if he didn't let Barty help but by letting him help, it also compromised him. "And I can't do what Cheon wants, can I? Fuck."
He slowly pushed himself up on his bed and got out his phone, texting Gene swiftly just to say he was sick and couldn't come in. He hoped he believed it.
"I can pretend I didn't hear you say that." Seemed safer. "And if I did... I would have said that you should destroy the footage. I don't want it near me. If you said it, of course."
"If I said it," Barty said quietly, looking at Sam. He could see how much he was suffering with all of this. Having his morals compromised, even a little bit, it was at least as invasive as what had been done to him.
He leaned down, gently placing a kiss under Sam's ear. He wanted to hold him again. He wanted to help him feel safe and taken care of. "It's not on you, darling. Not on you that nothing could ever stop me from taking care of you. I'm just that kind of possessive bastard, aren't I?"
"Suppose you always were. Possessive. Controlling. Playing a game and winning." Sam snorted in amusement and wondered how he felt about this. Barty was going to go out there and take down a human trafficking rapist... he probably wasn't torn up over it, he supposed. With a sigh, he looked over at Barty and shook his head. "I always hated that about you. Did you know that? You started doing it since -- since I lost my fucking school ID badge."
He was 16, he lost his badge and had a whole meltdown. He cried under his desk like a weirdo because he was utterly miserable. He couldn't go to the library, get his school dinners or get in and out of the school without it. "Something goes fucking wrong and you fucking fix it and I hate it. I always hated it. Just because I like it doesn't mean I can't hate it."
That conflicted feeling of hate and love, it was there even that day when Barty dropped his ID badge on his bed. Nicked by bullies, of course. Barty fixed it. He always fixed it.
"That's what you think, darling. I've been there stopping them from taking your badge sooner for at least two years before then." And then there were some other things that were probably better not to draw attention to. Nothing that bad, no, but yeah. He liked to take care of his own. Whether Sam wanted to belong to him or not.
He wanted to play with Sam's hair, but he refrained. Instead he put a hand on his shoulders, because he wanted to touch him. Wanted to really feel that they were close. "They are not that far apart, I suppose. Love and hate. Me and you."
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He patted himself down, looking through various coat pockets. "Most of these cuffs use similar keys. Let's see."
Barty had found a small key, which he used on the cuffs now. It needed some fiddling around, but eventually the handcuffs did spring open and Sam was free. "No need to thank me. Unless you're feeling it."
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Why was the world like this? Every time he had a win, someone had to fucking take it from him. "You can fuck off now, you've had a look."
He really didn't want Barty to see him like this. It was embarrassing.
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He was ready to lead him to the bathroom. "That wasn't just crystal meth. Cheon's part of the Dark Dragons, they are big in South Korea. Do a lot with drugs. That was definitely laced with something. Make it more addictive." More of an aphrodisiac too, but he didn't say that out loud.
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He could still see Cheon over him and he didn't want to see it. "I need a shower." Cheon fucked him, didn't he? Cheon fucked him on camera. What was he supposed to do about that.
Pushing himself up, he stabilised himself on the wall to get up without help. "I'll shower and -- and then it's fine."
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Barty watched Sam, wanting to help him more. He didn't think that Sam would be able to shower properly right now. "At least shower sitting down, aye? I'm assuming I can't offer assistance with it."
Not that he expected that would be especially erotic, given what a state Sam was in.
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"It can't be reported. It's fine, I know about drugs. I did courses on them. It's possible to get through a meth crash with the right tools." That a hospital had but he could do it at home. He just had to be careful. Hundreds of thousands of people did meth and survived. He would too.
"It's all gonna be fine."
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Well. "Almost, but not quite. And how exactly do you plan on getting that footage? You know Cheon wants you to play ball."
Which he knew Sam was never going to do. "One step after another, darling. Let's get you showered, aye? Then we can discuss it."
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He was so thrown by the horror of being benched by his work that he didn't even protest Barty undoing his buttons for him. Once they were done, he shrugged the shirt off and ran his fingers through his hair. He was still sweating like crazy and he hadn't even had time to think about the 'getting tested' comment because his brain was swimming in a stew of chemicals.
"I don't want anyone to know." He looked at Barty and suddenly desperation made his voice crack, his eyes welling with tears. "I really don't. Please."
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And he was going to handle Cheon. Very quickly and very efficiently. He had messed with the wrong cop, sick bastard.
Barty used the shampoo, gently washing Sam's hair for him. "You'll have to call out of work."
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It was going to be fine, he would make sure of it. He just had to keep covering it up. "I'll text Gene. I dunno where my phone is... he took it from me."
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All he cared about was pulling Sam into his arms and holding him close, even if that meant he was slowly getting soaked. "He won't put it online. He just wants it as insurance."
That was how it always worked. "Threatening your career, family, relationships."
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"I still hate that you were right." Sam muttered as he pulled back from Barty and ran his hand over his face. "Pisses me off to no end."
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Unfortunately no change of clothes for him, so that was bound to get clammy. Well, one problem at a time.
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Okay, he was pathetic. He kept Barty's stuff. Whatever. He was already a pathetic loser right now, why not add to it?
He walked back into the bedroom and opened the closet, gesturing at the bottom shelf inside. "In the ASDA bag. I think you left some joggers here before. Some t-shirts. Was gonna toss 'em but..." The feelings won out. "No time."
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For the moment, he took the bag and set it down on the ground, then began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes on Sam, who was getting dressed. "Thank you for not tossing it. I like those joggers."
Not that he was really lacking clothes, but this was different. These were the ones he wore the most around Sam. "I've stopped, you know?" He shrugged out of his wet shirt and folded it up to set it aside. "Because you told me it bothers you. I've stopped fucking around."
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Sam finished pulling on his shirt and then sat on the bed, his pyjama pants in his hands.
"Apparently I've started. Bad timing there." He smiled sadly and then shrugged his shoulders. "You can sleep around, it's your business."
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How much could he even get into this? It was pointless anyway. He focused on what mattered. "I never lied about how I felt. I love you. I don't think I can ever not love you."
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He gave up on pants and looked aimlessly around the room, unable to find any energy to stand and look for his phone. "You made a fool. Why? I don't get why you would do it. If you loved me, you loved me poorly."
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"Perhaps I'm not good at love." Obviously not. "People have always been difficult for me." He paused at that, getting the joggers out of the bag. Then he pulled them on and looked at Sam again, taking a step closer. "I guess that's the wrong word. They've been easy for me. Easy to figure out. To manipulate. I could just watch them and figure them out."
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"I need my phone. Can you find it for me? Otherwise Gene is going to burst in here soon and I don't want to deal with that." His head hurt enough.
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"I'm speaking openly now. I will deal with Cheon. You'll get the footage and no one else will ever have to know it exists."
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He slowly pushed himself up on his bed and got out his phone, texting Gene swiftly just to say he was sick and couldn't come in. He hoped he believed it.
"I can pretend I didn't hear you say that." Seemed safer. "And if I did... I would have said that you should destroy the footage. I don't want it near me. If you said it, of course."
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He leaned down, gently placing a kiss under Sam's ear. He wanted to hold him again. He wanted to help him feel safe and taken care of. "It's not on you, darling. Not on you that nothing could ever stop me from taking care of you. I'm just that kind of possessive bastard, aren't I?"
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He was 16, he lost his badge and had a whole meltdown. He cried under his desk like a weirdo because he was utterly miserable. He couldn't go to the library, get his school dinners or get in and out of the school without it. "Something goes fucking wrong and you fucking fix it and I hate it. I always hated it. Just because I like it doesn't mean I can't hate it."
That conflicted feeling of hate and love, it was there even that day when Barty dropped his ID badge on his bed. Nicked by bullies, of course. Barty fixed it. He always fixed it.
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He wanted to play with Sam's hair, but he refrained. Instead he put a hand on his shoulders, because he wanted to touch him. Wanted to really feel that they were close. "They are not that far apart, I suppose. Love and hate. Me and you."
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