"It'll heal better this way," Sherlock said. "Less of a scar, if any at all. Let me wrap it up."
Spencer was pink as he let his dad wrap his thigh up, staring at the ceiling as he clutched a blanket to pretend he wasn't crying. Not at all.
"What'd the kid do now?" Brandon asked, voice thick with sleep, as he padded down the stairs. "Can here his bloody whinging all the way up there."
"Just a simple laceration," Sherlock said, taping off the gauze. "He'll need to be careful not to split it back open, but I imagine you can help him recover." He beamed at his nephew. "Now, do stay out of trouble. And preferably, learn to filter yourself, Spencer."
Spencer stuck out his tongue, sulking. But his dad had slipped him a pain pill and he was feeling extra woozy.
Sherlock paused to place a hand on Brandon's shoulder.
"We're just a phone call away," he said.
"You can't be serious. You can't just leave me with that," Brandon sulked, stifling a yawn. "I've got work tomorrow."
"I've got Mary and Jack to pick up from your cousin's, and your mother will be most distressed if I don't have everyone back in time for breakfast," Sherlock said. "Mother hen, she is! Goodnight."
"I'm fine," Spencer said. "Just a regular old kidnapping. Oh and Mum might be killing my-.. ABBY!" He'd shouted but Sherlock had closed the door downstairs.
Brandon sighed. "I hate your dad."
"No, you hate me," Spencer said, covering up his wounded leg. "I said I'm fine. Go back to bed." He tried to curl up.
"What happened?" Brandon asked, hand on his hip. "Finch okay?"
"Bit roughed up, but Vance came to the rescue of course," Spencer sneered. "Apparently something I let slip to Abby got us kidnapped by some gang, and Mum and Jack and Vance all played heroes, but Finch and I were fine. We got ourselves out and everything. It's just the leg thing slowed me down. Dad didn't prepare me for knife wounds!"
The blond man sighed, rubbing his hand on his forehead. "C'mon, then. You want to walk to bed or you want me to carry you?"
"I'm not wearing pants," Spencer said, staring sullenly.
"I offered to take you to bed, not strip you," Brandon said, snorting. "You're a big boy, I think you can manage."
Spencer held out his arms. "It's my left leg," he said.
"If I drop you, it's your own fault for picking being carried," Brandon said, and he swept Spencer up into his arms. The slight boy didn't weigh that much. Still... "Bit heavy. Might drop you!"
Spencer clutched tightly around Brandon's shoulders. "Don't!" he whined. "Dad said take care of me!" He caught a whiff of Brandon's warm scent, and stole the moment to bury his face in Bran's neck..
"Ugh, you must be out of it. Not like you to be so touchy," Brandon said, trying to gently place the boy on his bed and peel out of his grip. "You want some water or something? Food?"
"No," he said, keeping a grip on Brandon's wrist. "Stay?" He looked up with wet grey-green eyes.
"Why? You 'fraid or something?" Brandon asked, his voice softening.
Spencer looked away and nodded. "I think they're gonna kill Abby. I sort of.. told her Mum was Moriarty, but I was just trying to impress her, y'know?" he said. "Can you just.. stay?"
Brandon sighed but he crawled onto the bed next to Spencer, sitting against the headboard. "You know better. Why would you tell your family secrets to a stranger?"
Spencer leaned onto Brandon's shoulder.
"She seemed to open up, when I talked about my family. Seemed more interested. We had some wine and those cheese sticks you make," Spencer said, smiling. "It was going so good.."
"Until she got you and your sister kidnapped," Brandon pointed out with a shrug. "This the bird you fancy, then? Seems awful risky goin' after someone who wants to kill you."
Spencer laughed softly, muzzy with the pain pill. "Mum did," he sighed. "Jim was crazy about her. Crazy."
"And she shot him," Brandon said, brushing dirty curls back from Spencer's head, feeling his temperature. "You going to kill this Abby girl? Oh, wait, your mum already is, you said."
Spencer's brows pinched together, and he sniffed, leaning into Brandon's petting. "It wasn't her fault," he whispered.
"Point blank, from what the parents say. Can't get more at fault than that," Brandon replied. "Don't go lookin' to model yourself after a criminal. You're going to be a good one, aren't you? A good guy."
"They kicked me out of academy. Official," Spencer mumbled. "Failed my psych evals."
"So? That don't mean you go turning into a super villain. You'll find a way back. Those arseholes don't know anything about psych anyway. They just want someone they can brainwash," Brandon said, patting Spencer's head.
"And the first girl who might like me is a criminal," Spencer said, looking up. "Dead criminal," he mumbled, shoving his face back against Brandon's neck. "I just want to be loved like Mum is."
"Hey. You are loved. Your whole family loves you," Brandon said, his features tight. "Real love isn't real. If it was, your mum wouldn't need all those other people."
Spencer sighed, leaning his head up to kiss Brandon's pulse point. "Mum really loves my dad. Dad just wanted.. John," he said against Brandon's skin. "Dad messed it up. Dad messed it all up."
Brandon froze, scared for a second like a rabbit. But then, he relaxed. Pain meds could explain a lot of things. "Well, it's not important now. You're tired. Go to sleep."
"You'd hold me if I were Finch," Spencer said, trying to turn away and onto his side before hissing in pain.
"You are such a brat," Brandon said, leaning his head back on the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm here. You asked me to stay and I'm staying. Whatever I do, whatever I give you, it's not enough. And, for the record, I would not hold your sister. She kicks in her sleep."
Spencer turned over onto his good side, rooting against Brandon's stomach.
"Is it cause of Dad too?" he asked, closing his eyes. "That you're scared?" he mumbled out.
"I'm not scared of anything," Brandon said stiffly.
"Scared you felt somethin'," Spencer countered, reaching for Brandon's hand to place it in his hair. "Sokay, you've got lovers. I know.."
Brandon swallowed, but he rubbed his fingers over the kid's ridiculous hair. "Go to sleep, Spencer. You need to rest."
Spencer listened to Brandon's heartbeat through his skin. His stomach gurgled occasionally and Spencer laughed silently when it did. The combination of petting and drugs made him fallen gently to sleep, clutching at Brandon's shirt like a blankie.
***
Vance shut the door behind himself with a little more force than necessary. He ripped off his leather jacket, tossing it to the side, leaving him in just his tee shirt and gun holster. He reached for Finch, spinning her and pushing her up against her bedroom door.
"Let go!" she said, struggling in his grip.
"No," Vance said. "Fact, last thing I'm doin' is lettin' you go." He pressed up against her. "You-" He grasped her by the nape of her neck, pressing a heated kiss to her lips.
"No, you hurt Abby," Finch said, continuing to wriggle. "You- You-"
"Am bloody letting her go," Vance said. "Because it weren't her fault, and the fuckin' person who got you into this mess is that pathetic creature you call brother." He held firmly.
"Spencer?" Finch stopped moving and looked up at him, mouth soft even as her eyes went hard. "Spencer would never-"
"Show off for a girl he thought was interested in 'im? Yeah, he would," Vance replied. "Flaunt his family to pretty himself up for a girl he fancies? You bet. And she tried to protect him!" He snorted. "Untouchable."
"B-but he-" Finch shook her head, not really believing her brother would even potentially risk their safety. "He wouldn't."
"Did you tell her about your Mum?" Vance asked, softening his hold on her. "I wouldn't think so. She said she heard it straight from the source. Called Spence by name. He's young and stupid, Finch. But you were smart enough to get yourselves out."
"Sher-Sherlock always made sure we could escape," Finch whispered, looking vacant as though she were still processing the idea that Spencer would've betrayed the family that way. She licked her lip. "Made little games of it. Got a biscuit if you got out first."
"He's a brilliant bloke," Vance said. "I'm gonna have a talk with him. Abby's free t'go, but I ain't sure she's gonna stick around."
"Just when I thought I'd found something," Finch muttered with a roll of her eyes, as though this sort of disappointment happened all the time.
"Sorry," Vance said. "But when I found out you'd been taken-" He said, nudging her cheek back to look at him. "I thought I'd lost everythin'."
She blinked, eyes wide. "Everything?"
"Everythin', bird," Vance repeated. "I was ready to rip apart the world to find you, no matter what it meant for me. Your mum kept me straight, and your.. Sherlock, found the building. I'm taking over now. The face, not the workings. But all them out there, they're gonna see me as Moriarty. I ain't Vance Reed no more."
"Oh," Finch said softly, looking away. Processing behind those green eyes. "I'm sorry you were worried."
"I knew they'd said they taught you," Vance laughed softly. "But I ain't never expected to find you like that. Never thought I'd find myself hot'n bothered bein' on the other end of a gun."
"You liked that?" Finch asked, looking back up at him. His smile was gentle. Her thief. Her thief that was turning out to be ... something else. "I was just trying to get out."
"I liked you," Vance said, pulling her away from the door. "You think little of yourself, bird, but that was somethin' special. Lucky your Mum was at my back, otherwise, I might've.." He chuckled, winking with his blind eye.
"Mum would've shot you. She's shot Jack loads of times," Finch said, lips curling up. She cleared her throat. "Do you- um. Do you have to be Moriarty?"
Vance let go of Finch's hand.
"Are you askin' me not to?" he asked, tilting his head. "If I'm Moriarty, will you still be.." My girlfriend? Lover? "Mine?"
"I don't think that's a question I can answer just like that," Finch replied, and she looked miserably sad. "But I would never tell you not to do something like that. If it's what you wanted. I wouldn't ask you that."
"I'm good at it," Vance said, leaning to sit on the ladder stairs of her loft. "Being the face. I ain't nothing pretty, and your Mum's going out. I don't think this is a job I can quit, Finch. It's do or die. I aim to do my best at it. I won't regret bein' what I am, and ain't none of it good."
Finch nodded, her lip trembling. She bit it. "I understand." And it was her fault he got put in that place to begin with. "I don't want you to stop being you."
"But I don't wanna stop being with you neither," Vance said, sorrow on his face. "Miss Finch, I - I think I more than fancy you, bird."
Finch nodded again, and she sniffed. "I more than fancy you. I think."
Vance wordlessly held out his arms. Finch lurched forward, burying herself against him like she used to do to her Papa when she was a child and upset at her mother. Vance snuggled into her hair, stroking her back. He sniffled himself, shuffling to get the leather holster off and pull Finch up into the loft.
He held her tightly, as though letting go would cause them to escape to the ends of the earth.
"If-If I can't do it anymore one day, you won't hate me, will you?" Finch whispered, kissing his throat. His pulse beat under her lips.
"And if I still protect you from afar, you won't hate me either?" Vance offered, kissing her head.
"You won't always be able to," Finch replied, stroking her hand over his chest. She sniffed. "Sometimes I'll get hurt. Especially if you're- y'know, what you are. I'll get captured."
"I'll find you," Vance swore. He pressed his face against her hair. "It'd be safer t'let you go."
Finch gave a pained sob, and she turned her face further in so he couldn't see her. "If you want-"
"I don't," Vance whispered. "I don't want to. And I'm not. I- I love you," he breathed into her ear. She bit his shoulder. "Ow," he laughed, squirming. He rolled over on top of Finch, bracing over her. "Naughty bird."
Finch gulped, looking so innocent. Like it was the first time, even though it was the fifth. pouted out her lower lip. "Kiss me."
Vance happily complied, pressing their lips together once, twice, again and again. He stroked down her body. He laughed softly again as he kissed up her jaw. "I love you," he said again, nipping her ear.
"I- I love you," Finch whispered, feeling her cheeks heat up at the admission.
Vance's breath shuddered out as he kissed Finch's throat. "You could've shanked my arse ages ago, couldn't you?" he asked as he tugged his shirt over his head. He tossed it outside the loft and reached for the screen. He much preferred them 'locked' in.
"I don't like to brag," Finch said, her hands roaming his exposed torso. She was still processing, still trying to understand, and she was bloody tired from having been kidnapped, but at the same time, she needed this. This reassurance that everything would be okay. "You're the talented one."
"Not talented," Vance said. "Taught. Learnt. Do or die." His skin prickled to life. His body had grown into whipcord muscle. "Hang on, forgot the knife at my ankle." He reached down to pop off the holster and set it on the bookshelf above Finch's head. "Don't go anywhere unprepared."
Finch blushed deeper, in awe of him. "You're so dangerous."
"You make a kitten outta me," Vance laughed, nuzzling at her jaw. "A lapdog, a hired gun. I'm yours." He stroked up Finch's sides.
"Lots of promises for a girl you hardly know," Finch whispered, pushing up to secure his lips again. "I hope you're sure about all this."
Vance followed her down, tangling their legs. "Your mum says somethin' a lot. 'No regrets'. I had nothin', Finch. Nothing at all," he said, slowly undressing her. "Sides, I know you," he said nosing her belly.
"You know me?" Finch asked, sliding her leg along his body, jeans dirty from the activities of the night. "How do you know me?"
Vance unbuttoned her jeans, pulling down the zipper. "I know how to make your body sing," he murmured. "I know how you look when you're mad, when you're wantin' - I know you draw better'n that Da Vinci bloke, and you're wicked underneath those green-green eyes." He tugged down her jeans, kissing along her skin. "Green like a gem, I'd steal right from ya if I could. Had to take the whole bird though, she was too precious."
"You're the best thief," Finch said, brushing her hand over his hair, pushing it back so she could see his face. "The best thief and very poetic."
Vance ducked his head in shyness. He kissed her exposed thigh. "All that readin'," he said, shaking his head. "Lift up... I wanna.." He licked his lips. She tilted her hips, obliging his request.
"Don't hide from me. You never let me hide from you," Finch pointed out, helping him wriggle her out of her clothes. She blinked slowly, feeling exposed. "I want to see you sometimes, too."
Vance nodded, looking up. He peeled away his own jeans, tugging off his socks and pushing their clothes to the end of the bed.
"Not used to people wantin' to look at me," he said softly kissing Finch's mouth. He pushed his hair back away from his eyes.
"Most people are stupid. That's what I've been told, anyway," Finch said, kissing his cheek where the scar sliced through it. "I- I think you're beautiful. I-I was afraid tonight, even after we got out."
"Afraid of me?" Vance asked, laying down on her warm body with a soft moan. Their skin touching was enough to set his head spinning, light-headed with want.
"A little bit," she admitted, kissing him gently on the mouth. She felt like there was heat pouring off of him, keeping her warm. "A little that we might still be killed. That- That we- we'd never do this again."
"Oh God, of course we're doing this again," Vance moaned into Finch's mouth. He rutted against her thigh, slipping his hand against her, fingers trailing up and down the hottest part of her body. "And again, and again," he panted.
"You-Uh, ahmmm, you'll always come back, won't you?" Finch asked, pushing back into his touches. "Promise. You'll always come home."
"It'll take more than some Irish mobsters to keep me from you," Vance promised. "Always come back. Always. You'd have to shoot me y'self to keep me away." He kissed her, reaching for the hidden box of condoms. They hadn't been used quickly, but Vance was Very Careful with Finch. Very.
"I'll try not to shoot you," Finch said, cupping his cheek. Looking him in the eyes. Trusting him. "You try not to shoot me, too."
"Odds are, I'd miss even if I tried," Vance laughed, kissing her. "I'd never." He nudged up against her. "Please," he said, rolling his hips. "Finch. I need you, baby girl."
"I need you, too," Finch breathed, parting her legs more. She ghosted her lips over his jaw. "Please, Vance." She felt the tip of his cock rubbing over her and she shivered. "I need you."
Vance pressed forward, hissing slightly. His breath shuddered out as he thrust in and out again, delving deep inside Finch's tightness. She opened to him beautifully. He hooked her leg under one arm, spreading her open for him. It was different, special - incredible - to have sex with someone who made his chest want to burst, to do it bare (save the condom) and without worry of cops or vagrants interrupting. He moaned loudly. Her nose nudged his as she pressed their foreheads together, holding him close with her hand on the back of his head. Feeling their sweat mingle.
"Don't leave me," Finch whimpered.
"Never," Vance swore, sealing their mouths together. Every moment with Finch was a fairy tale for the thief-turned-super-villain. He'd done some terrible things, but being able to call this girl, this woman, home was more than worth the blackness on his soul.
"Let go!" she said, struggling in his grip.
"No," Vance said. "Fact, last thing I'm doin' is lettin' you go." He pressed up against her. "You-" He grasped her by the nape of her neck, pressing a heated kiss to her lips.
"No, you hurt Abby," Finch said, continuing to wriggle. "You- You-"
"Am bloody letting her go," Vance said. "Because it weren't her fault, and the fuckin' person who got you into this mess is that pathetic creature you call brother." He held firmly.
"Spencer?" Finch stopped moving and looked up at him, mouth soft even as her eyes went hard. "Spencer would never-"
"Show off for a girl he thought was interested in 'im? Yeah, he would," Vance replied. "Flaunt his family to pretty himself up for a girl he fancies? You bet. And she tried to protect him!" He snorted. "Untouchable."
"B-but he-" Finch shook her head, not really believing her brother would even potentially risk their safety. "He wouldn't."
"Did you tell her about your Mum?" Vance asked, softening his hold on her. "I wouldn't think so. She said she heard it straight from the source. Called Spence by name. He's young and stupid, Finch. But you were smart enough to get yourselves out."
"Sher-Sherlock always made sure we could escape," Finch whispered, looking vacant as though she were still processing the idea that Spencer would've betrayed the family that way. She licked her lip. "Made little games of it. Got a biscuit if you got out first."
"He's a brilliant bloke," Vance said. "I'm gonna have a talk with him. Abby's free t'go, but I ain't sure she's gonna stick around."
"Just when I thought I'd found something," Finch muttered with a roll of her eyes, as though this sort of disappointment happened all the time.
"Sorry," Vance said. "But when I found out you'd been taken-" He said, nudging her cheek back to look at him. "I thought I'd lost everythin'."
She blinked, eyes wide. "Everything?"
"Everythin', bird," Vance repeated. "I was ready to rip apart the world to find you, no matter what it meant for me. Your mum kept me straight, and your.. Sherlock, found the building. I'm taking over now. The face, not the workings. But all them out there, they're gonna see me as Moriarty. I ain't Vance Reed no more."
"Oh," Finch said softly, looking away. Processing behind those green eyes. "I'm sorry you were worried."
"I knew they'd said they taught you," Vance laughed softly. "But I ain't never expected to find you like that. Never thought I'd find myself hot'n bothered bein' on the other end of a gun."
"You liked that?" Finch asked, looking back up at him. His smile was gentle. Her thief. Her thief that was turning out to be ... something else. "I was just trying to get out."
"I liked you," Vance said, pulling her away from the door. "You think little of yourself, bird, but that was somethin' special. Lucky your Mum was at my back, otherwise, I might've.." He chuckled, winking with his blind eye.
"Mum would've shot you. She's shot Jack loads of times," Finch said, lips curling up. She cleared her throat. "Do you- um. Do you have to be Moriarty?"
Vance let go of Finch's hand.
"Are you askin' me not to?" he asked, tilting his head. "If I'm Moriarty, will you still be.." My girlfriend? Lover? "Mine?"
"I don't think that's a question I can answer just like that," Finch replied, and she looked miserably sad. "But I would never tell you not to do something like that. If it's what you wanted. I wouldn't ask you that."
"I'm good at it," Vance said, leaning to sit on the ladder stairs of her loft. "Being the face. I ain't nothing pretty, and your Mum's going out. I don't think this is a job I can quit, Finch. It's do or die. I aim to do my best at it. I won't regret bein' what I am, and ain't none of it good."
Finch nodded, her lip trembling. She bit it. "I understand." And it was her fault he got put in that place to begin with. "I don't want you to stop being you."
"But I don't wanna stop being with you neither," Vance said, sorrow on his face. "Miss Finch, I - I think I more than fancy you, bird."
Finch nodded again, and she sniffed. "I more than fancy you. I think."
Vance wordlessly held out his arms. Finch lurched forward, burying herself against him like she used to do to her Papa when she was a child and upset at her mother. Vance snuggled into her hair, stroking her back. He sniffled himself, shuffling to get the leather holster off and pull Finch up into the loft.
He held her tightly, as though letting go would cause them to escape to the ends of the earth.
"If-If I can't do it anymore one day, you won't hate me, will you?" Finch whispered, kissing his throat. His pulse beat under her lips.
"And if I still protect you from afar, you won't hate me either?" Vance offered, kissing her head.
"You won't always be able to," Finch replied, stroking her hand over his chest. She sniffed. "Sometimes I'll get hurt. Especially if you're- y'know, what you are. I'll get captured."
"I'll find you," Vance swore. He pressed his face against her hair. "It'd be safer t'let you go."
Finch gave a pained sob, and she turned her face further in so he couldn't see her. "If you want-"
"I don't," Vance whispered. "I don't want to. And I'm not. I- I love you," he breathed into her ear. She bit his shoulder. "Ow," he laughed, squirming. He rolled over on top of Finch, bracing over her. "Naughty bird."
Finch gulped, looking so innocent. Like it was the first time, even though it was the fifth. pouted out her lower lip. "Kiss me."
Vance happily complied, pressing their lips together once, twice, again and again. He stroked down her body. He laughed softly again as he kissed up her jaw. "I love you," he said again, nipping her ear.
"I- I love you," Finch whispered, feeling her cheeks heat up at the admission.
Vance's breath shuddered out as he kissed Finch's throat. "You could've shanked my arse ages ago, couldn't you?" he asked as he tugged his shirt over his head. He tossed it outside the loft and reached for the screen. He much preferred them 'locked' in.
"I don't like to brag," Finch said, her hands roaming his exposed torso. She was still processing, still trying to understand, and she was bloody tired from having been kidnapped, but at the same time, she needed this. This reassurance that everything would be okay. "You're the talented one."
"Not talented," Vance said. "Taught. Learnt. Do or die." His skin prickled to life. His body had grown into whipcord muscle. "Hang on, forgot the knife at my ankle." He reached down to pop off the holster and set it on the bookshelf above Finch's head. "Don't go anywhere unprepared."
Finch blushed deeper, in awe of him. "You're so dangerous."
"You make a kitten outta me," Vance laughed, nuzzling at her jaw. "A lapdog, a hired gun. I'm yours." He stroked up Finch's sides.
"Lots of promises for a girl you hardly know," Finch whispered, pushing up to secure his lips again. "I hope you're sure about all this."
Vance followed her down, tangling their legs. "Your mum says somethin' a lot. 'No regrets'. I had nothin', Finch. Nothing at all," he said, slowly undressing her. "Sides, I know you," he said nosing her belly.
"You know me?" Finch asked, sliding her leg along his body, jeans dirty from the activities of the night. "How do you know me?"
Vance unbuttoned her jeans, pulling down the zipper. "I know how to make your body sing," he murmured. "I know how you look when you're mad, when you're wantin' - I know you draw better'n that Da Vinci bloke, and you're wicked underneath those green-green eyes." He tugged down her jeans, kissing along her skin. "Green like a gem, I'd steal right from ya if I could. Had to take the whole bird though, she was too precious."
"You're the best thief," Finch said, brushing her hand over his hair, pushing it back so she could see his face. "The best thief and very poetic."
Vance ducked his head in shyness. He kissed her exposed thigh. "All that readin'," he said, shaking his head. "Lift up... I wanna.." He licked his lips. She tilted her hips, obliging his request.
"Don't hide from me. You never let me hide from you," Finch pointed out, helping him wriggle her out of her clothes. She blinked slowly, feeling exposed. "I want to see you sometimes, too."
Vance nodded, looking up. He peeled away his own jeans, tugging off his socks and pushing their clothes to the end of the bed.
"Not used to people wantin' to look at me," he said softly kissing Finch's mouth. He pushed his hair back away from his eyes.
"Most people are stupid. That's what I've been told, anyway," Finch said, kissing his cheek where the scar sliced through it. "I- I think you're beautiful. I-I was afraid tonight, even after we got out."
"Afraid of me?" Vance asked, laying down on her warm body with a soft moan. Their skin touching was enough to set his head spinning, light-headed with want.
"A little bit," she admitted, kissing him gently on the mouth. She felt like there was heat pouring off of him, keeping her warm. "A little that we might still be killed. That- That we- we'd never do this again."
"Oh God, of course we're doing this again," Vance moaned into Finch's mouth. He rutted against her thigh, slipping his hand against her, fingers trailing up and down the hottest part of her body. "And again, and again," he panted.
"You-Uh, ahmmm, you'll always come back, won't you?" Finch asked, pushing back into his touches. "Promise. You'll always come home."
"It'll take more than some Irish mobsters to keep me from you," Vance promised. "Always come back. Always. You'd have to shoot me y'self to keep me away." He kissed her, reaching for the hidden box of condoms. They hadn't been used quickly, but Vance was Very Careful with Finch. Very.
"I'll try not to shoot you," Finch said, cupping his cheek. Looking him in the eyes. Trusting him. "You try not to shoot me, too."
"Odds are, I'd miss even if I tried," Vance laughed, kissing her. "I'd never." He nudged up against her. "Please," he said, rolling his hips. "Finch. I need you, baby girl."
"I need you, too," Finch breathed, parting her legs more. She ghosted her lips over his jaw. "Please, Vance." She felt the tip of his cock rubbing over her and she shivered. "I need you."
Vance pressed forward, hissing slightly. His breath shuddered out as he thrust in and out again, delving deep inside Finch's tightness. She opened to him beautifully. He hooked her leg under one arm, spreading her open for him. It was different, special - incredible - to have sex with someone who made his chest want to burst, to do it bare (save the condom) and without worry of cops or vagrants interrupting. He moaned loudly. Her nose nudged his as she pressed their foreheads together, holding him close with her hand on the back of his head. Feeling their sweat mingle.
"Don't leave me," Finch whimpered.
"Never," Vance swore, sealing their mouths together. Every moment with Finch was a fairy tale for the thief-turned-super-villain. He'd done some terrible things, but being able to call this girl, this woman, home was more than worth the blackness on his soul.
***
Breakfast.. or rather brunch, was an awkward affair. Spencer kept flushing as he remembered kissing Brandon's neck. Finally he managed to find John's very old stainless steel cane and got himself dressed. He was still ruffled and a bit dirty, but he couldn't get his leg wet for awhile.
"Bran!" he called out, limping through the apartment.
"Yeah?" the other boy called from his bedroom.
Spencer clutched his mobile. "Father said they released Abby," he called up stairs. "I require assistance... getting.. down."
"Getting down?" Brandon asked, coming down the stairs in nothing but a pair of jeans, a towel around his shoulders. "Where you off to?"
Spencer's face went red again. "T-the tattoo shop. I'm not sure where else to find her," he said.
Brandon leaned against the railing, lean body on display. "Why you going to go lookin' for her? Didn't she get you kidnapped?"
"To- uh," Spencer said, feeling tongue tied. "It wasn't her fault. I was the one who told her about my parents." He managed to pull his eyes away from all that pale skin, but his heart was thumping, making his leg throb.
"And you can't get up, I mean, down, by yourself?" Brandon asked, pretending to be clueless.
"My bloody leg hurts!" Spencer snapped. "For God's sake, put some clothes on!"
""I'm goin' in for a shower," Brandon drawled, looking like a lazy cat. "But I guess I can help you down the stairs first."
Spencer shoved his phone in his pocket, feeling his face burn. "Don't drop me," he said, still not able to look at his cousin. "Dad only gave me one pain pill."
"Oh, I see. Not just 'let me lean on you', no, you expect to be carried," Brandon teased, coming the rest of the way down to hold out his arms. "Alright, Princess, your loyal steed awaits."
Spencer wanted to protest, but he swallowed his pride and limped over. He hooked an arm over the towel, minimizing the skin touching. He almost squeaked as Brandon picked him up.
"Don't drop me!" he repeated, clutching tighter.
"I'm not going to drop you, moron," Brandon laughed, taking the stairs very, very slowly. "So, what's she look like?"
"Purple," Spencer hissed out.
"What, like an alien?" Brandon asked, not at all alarmed.
"No, her hair," Spencer scowled. "And she's sort of.. pointy and thin. I don't know! Why do you care? You're gay." He squeezed tighter, hiding his face as the steep stairs made him feel dizzy.
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty. I mean, take your sister. All those luscious curves-"
"I will bite you," Spencer growled near Brandon's neck.
"Promises, promises," Brandon flirted setting Spencer down on his feet.
Spencer got the cane back under his hand, relieving the pressure on his leg. "I told you, Abby's different. I'll steal a picture on my phone if she's there, since you're so nosy. Now piss off and go shower," he said, tossing his chin.
"Good luck. You'll need it!" Brandon said, heading back up the stairs with a toss of his white-blond hair.
"Yeah? Don't even think about wanking in the shower over me!" Spencer shouted back. He headed outside with a huff. Brandon definitely knew how he felt, and all of that had been one big tease. He was relieved that Abby was (possibly) still alive. He had to take a cab instead of the tube, but it also meant he was outside the parlor in no time at all.
He leaned heavily on the cane, cursing his throbbing leg. He knew he shouldn't be walking on it, but he had to know. The shop door was locked, but there were two buzzers beside the door. He rang both.
There was no answer.
Spencer paced a few steps. He buzzed again. He was considering the neighboring shops, or neighboring flats. He wasn't the sleuth his father was, but he was also worried. He buzzed twice more.
"Fuckin' Christ, whoever you are, go away," Abby's voice came over the speaker.
"Abby!" Spencer said, rushing up to it.
"Ah, nope. No, she's not in right now," Abby said.
"Bullshit!" Spencer said. "Jesus H Christ, my leg is killing me, come down. Please!" He rang the buzzer again. "I won't go away!"
"Apparently," Abby shot back through the speaker. "You almost got us both killed!"
"We took care of it," Spencer said. "Please! Just, come down. Five minutes."
After what seemed like an eternity, the locks on the door flicked and clicked until it opened, revealing a bedraggled Abby. Her face was as purple as her hair from where Vance had hit her, lip split on the side. "Five minutes."
Spencer's face was twisted with worry as he limped inside.
"Jesus, I saw they got you, but not that bad," he said. "Abby - I know you told somebody about me, about my family. I don't know why Mum let you go, but it was my fault for telling you. I'm sorry. I put you in danger with knowing about us. But it was the only thing you seemed to respond to!"
"Yeah, bein' hit in the face will usually get a girl's response," Abby muttered darkly, locking the door behind him. "You'd think this would be a sign you should maybe leave me alone a bit."
"I was afraid they'd killed you," Spencer whispered. He limped towards her, reaching up. "It could've been worse." She didn't mean to, not really, but she did flinch away from him.
"Yeah. Moriarty informed me of that himself," Abby replied, her tone sarcastic.
"Him?" Spencer bit off. So Mum was making the switch. "Bastard. I won't let him touch you. He won't either. Not again. He did this? Moriarty?"
Abby tilted her head up, eyes flashing. "I don't need protecting. And you wouldn't be able to stop him, not someone like that, not if he really wanted to. You can't even stop yourself from gettin' taken."
"I got myself out," Spencer said, chin raised. He flicked his eyes to the side. "Moriarty's on my side. Or I'm on his. Their's. It's complicated, Abby, but I could protect you."
"I don't want protection, I don't want this, whatever it is, with Moriarty. He offered to 'be on my side'. I don't want to play these games, not anymore," Abby replied, her teeth clenching. "I'm done with this thing."
"This thing doesn't end, Abby," Spencer said. "My parents knew that. It's why they raised Finch and I the way they did. I'm sure my dad followed some sort of MI6 training manual or something. My family's been trying to get out of it for nearly a century, probably more. It's not a game. We can't escape it, but we can protect our own."
Abby turned away from him, folding her arms over herself. "I can protect me."
"By putting my family in danger?" Spencer asked, touching her shoulder.
"I didn't!" Abby said, shaking her head. "I didn't tell-"
"Abby, you're the only person I've ever told," Spencer said, trying to turn her. "Ever."
"And I didn't, I didn't tell, exactly," Abby insisted, not wanting to look at him.
"Someone guessed. Someone in with the McCannady's?" Spencer pressed softly. "Did you owe someone?"
"I can't," Abby said, with a firm shake of her head. She pulled away from him, leaning against the wall. "I told Moriarty and I told you. I'm not on anyone's side. At all."
"They'll find out. Whether you tell or not. They've got people," Spencer said. "I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all this. I- I just sort of fancied you. You'll still give Finch her apprenticeship, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I reckon I don't have a choice in the matter. If she still wants to, that is," Abby replied softly. She felt like a bird herself, caged in.
"She will. It's important to her," Spencer said. "I guess I'll go for now." He leaned on the cane, almost heading for the door. He turned, limping quickly to kiss Abby on her good cheek. "I'm glad you aren't dead," he said, nodding.
Abby's eyes widened, and she touched her cheek. She looked... confused. "Yeah. Me too."
"Five minutes are up," Spencer said. "But y'know, if anything changes. Finch has my number. I've uh, got a website too. Just google Spencer Holmes."
"Yeah. I know," Abby said meaningfully, watching his face.
"Oh!" Spencer said. "Oh, is that-" He blinked. "Really? What did you think?"
Abby shrugged, looking away from him. "Bit boring. Doesn't say much."
"I guess I'll work on it," Spencer said, smiling. "Later, Abby. Stay safe." He grasped the door handle. "Call if there's trouble."
"Yeah?" the other boy called from his bedroom.
Spencer clutched his mobile. "Father said they released Abby," he called up stairs. "I require assistance... getting.. down."
"Getting down?" Brandon asked, coming down the stairs in nothing but a pair of jeans, a towel around his shoulders. "Where you off to?"
Spencer's face went red again. "T-the tattoo shop. I'm not sure where else to find her," he said.
Brandon leaned against the railing, lean body on display. "Why you going to go lookin' for her? Didn't she get you kidnapped?"
"To- uh," Spencer said, feeling tongue tied. "It wasn't her fault. I was the one who told her about my parents." He managed to pull his eyes away from all that pale skin, but his heart was thumping, making his leg throb.
"And you can't get up, I mean, down, by yourself?" Brandon asked, pretending to be clueless.
"My bloody leg hurts!" Spencer snapped. "For God's sake, put some clothes on!"
""I'm goin' in for a shower," Brandon drawled, looking like a lazy cat. "But I guess I can help you down the stairs first."
Spencer shoved his phone in his pocket, feeling his face burn. "Don't drop me," he said, still not able to look at his cousin. "Dad only gave me one pain pill."
"Oh, I see. Not just 'let me lean on you', no, you expect to be carried," Brandon teased, coming the rest of the way down to hold out his arms. "Alright, Princess, your loyal steed awaits."
Spencer wanted to protest, but he swallowed his pride and limped over. He hooked an arm over the towel, minimizing the skin touching. He almost squeaked as Brandon picked him up.
"Don't drop me!" he repeated, clutching tighter.
"I'm not going to drop you, moron," Brandon laughed, taking the stairs very, very slowly. "So, what's she look like?"
"Purple," Spencer hissed out.
"What, like an alien?" Brandon asked, not at all alarmed.
"No, her hair," Spencer scowled. "And she's sort of.. pointy and thin. I don't know! Why do you care? You're gay." He squeezed tighter, hiding his face as the steep stairs made him feel dizzy.
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty. I mean, take your sister. All those luscious curves-"
"I will bite you," Spencer growled near Brandon's neck.
"Promises, promises," Brandon flirted setting Spencer down on his feet.
Spencer got the cane back under his hand, relieving the pressure on his leg. "I told you, Abby's different. I'll steal a picture on my phone if she's there, since you're so nosy. Now piss off and go shower," he said, tossing his chin.
"Good luck. You'll need it!" Brandon said, heading back up the stairs with a toss of his white-blond hair.
"Yeah? Don't even think about wanking in the shower over me!" Spencer shouted back. He headed outside with a huff. Brandon definitely knew how he felt, and all of that had been one big tease. He was relieved that Abby was (possibly) still alive. He had to take a cab instead of the tube, but it also meant he was outside the parlor in no time at all.
He leaned heavily on the cane, cursing his throbbing leg. He knew he shouldn't be walking on it, but he had to know. The shop door was locked, but there were two buzzers beside the door. He rang both.
There was no answer.
Spencer paced a few steps. He buzzed again. He was considering the neighboring shops, or neighboring flats. He wasn't the sleuth his father was, but he was also worried. He buzzed twice more.
"Fuckin' Christ, whoever you are, go away," Abby's voice came over the speaker.
"Abby!" Spencer said, rushing up to it.
"Ah, nope. No, she's not in right now," Abby said.
"Bullshit!" Spencer said. "Jesus H Christ, my leg is killing me, come down. Please!" He rang the buzzer again. "I won't go away!"
"Apparently," Abby shot back through the speaker. "You almost got us both killed!"
"We took care of it," Spencer said. "Please! Just, come down. Five minutes."
After what seemed like an eternity, the locks on the door flicked and clicked until it opened, revealing a bedraggled Abby. Her face was as purple as her hair from where Vance had hit her, lip split on the side. "Five minutes."
Spencer's face was twisted with worry as he limped inside.
"Jesus, I saw they got you, but not that bad," he said. "Abby - I know you told somebody about me, about my family. I don't know why Mum let you go, but it was my fault for telling you. I'm sorry. I put you in danger with knowing about us. But it was the only thing you seemed to respond to!"
"Yeah, bein' hit in the face will usually get a girl's response," Abby muttered darkly, locking the door behind him. "You'd think this would be a sign you should maybe leave me alone a bit."
"I was afraid they'd killed you," Spencer whispered. He limped towards her, reaching up. "It could've been worse." She didn't mean to, not really, but she did flinch away from him.
"Yeah. Moriarty informed me of that himself," Abby replied, her tone sarcastic.
"Him?" Spencer bit off. So Mum was making the switch. "Bastard. I won't let him touch you. He won't either. Not again. He did this? Moriarty?"
Abby tilted her head up, eyes flashing. "I don't need protecting. And you wouldn't be able to stop him, not someone like that, not if he really wanted to. You can't even stop yourself from gettin' taken."
"I got myself out," Spencer said, chin raised. He flicked his eyes to the side. "Moriarty's on my side. Or I'm on his. Their's. It's complicated, Abby, but I could protect you."
"I don't want protection, I don't want this, whatever it is, with Moriarty. He offered to 'be on my side'. I don't want to play these games, not anymore," Abby replied, her teeth clenching. "I'm done with this thing."
"This thing doesn't end, Abby," Spencer said. "My parents knew that. It's why they raised Finch and I the way they did. I'm sure my dad followed some sort of MI6 training manual or something. My family's been trying to get out of it for nearly a century, probably more. It's not a game. We can't escape it, but we can protect our own."
Abby turned away from him, folding her arms over herself. "I can protect me."
"By putting my family in danger?" Spencer asked, touching her shoulder.
"I didn't!" Abby said, shaking her head. "I didn't tell-"
"Abby, you're the only person I've ever told," Spencer said, trying to turn her. "Ever."
"And I didn't, I didn't tell, exactly," Abby insisted, not wanting to look at him.
"Someone guessed. Someone in with the McCannady's?" Spencer pressed softly. "Did you owe someone?"
"I can't," Abby said, with a firm shake of her head. She pulled away from him, leaning against the wall. "I told Moriarty and I told you. I'm not on anyone's side. At all."
"They'll find out. Whether you tell or not. They've got people," Spencer said. "I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all this. I- I just sort of fancied you. You'll still give Finch her apprenticeship, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I reckon I don't have a choice in the matter. If she still wants to, that is," Abby replied softly. She felt like a bird herself, caged in.
"She will. It's important to her," Spencer said. "I guess I'll go for now." He leaned on the cane, almost heading for the door. He turned, limping quickly to kiss Abby on her good cheek. "I'm glad you aren't dead," he said, nodding.
Abby's eyes widened, and she touched her cheek. She looked... confused. "Yeah. Me too."
"Five minutes are up," Spencer said. "But y'know, if anything changes. Finch has my number. I've uh, got a website too. Just google Spencer Holmes."
"Yeah. I know," Abby said meaningfully, watching his face.
"Oh!" Spencer said. "Oh, is that-" He blinked. "Really? What did you think?"
Abby shrugged, looking away from him. "Bit boring. Doesn't say much."
"I guess I'll work on it," Spencer said, smiling. "Later, Abby. Stay safe." He grasped the door handle. "Call if there's trouble."
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