Chapter Text
"To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
--The Little Prince
Day 1
This was probably the day he died, Shiro reflected. If he was lucky. If he was unlucky, he would die sometime in the next week after several more days of torture. Sure, he could draw it out—feed the Don's goons some bad information, stall for time. The force might—might—negotiate a deal for his release. If they were smart, they'd wash their hands of him. He wasn't worth it; just a low level cop who got caught undercover. He'd fought for time for his partner, Matt, to get out, and that was worth it. He could die silent and with his honor: no regrets.
He knelt calmly, bleeding slowly from several open cuts where the thick strap had whipped hard enough to draw blood. If he'd expected to live out the day, it would have bothered him that he was still wearing a suit—difficult to get the blood out, and painful to remove the cloth from the wounds. His face was swollen and his limbs bruised from multiple punches he'd received earlier that day. Every part of him hurt, and his wrists were bound tightly behind his back. Someone might have asked him a question, but he was gagged anyway and starting to black out.
But he recognized the voice, didn't he? He tried to focus. That one, just now, was the Don's son. Lotor? But he was talking to... Kay. Shit.
Kay was standing next to him now. He had a knife and he used the tip to force Shiro's chin up. Kay's lips curled in a dark smile.
“Can I keep him?” he asked. This to Lotor.
Shiro couldn't hear what Lotor said, but he definitely caught Kay's response: “He won't turn me down this time.”
He laughed unkindly, and Shiro blacked out.
~*~*~
Shiro was vaguely aware that he was in a different room. He was being stripped, or whipped again? His cuts hurt at any rate, but whether that was coincidence or due to them being aggravated, he couldn't tell. He was cold. No—something cold was touching him. He was being cleaned?
“So help me if he doesn't make it, you'll be whipped next,” he heard a voice growl. “I didn't cash in a favor to have him die immediately.”
Kay. It was Kay.
Shiro had met Kay during the early stage of his investigation. He'd been working as a bouncer at the Quintessence—a high level host bar owned by the Galra syndicate—when Kay had come in. He'd seen Shiro and requested him.
“I'm sorry, Sir,” Shiro said. “I'm not a host.”
“Do you work here?” Kay said, stirring his drink and looking extremely bored.
“Yes, Sir.”
“And do you know who owns the Quintessence?” he continued.
“...yes, Sir.”
“And then, if you know who I am, you know that I own this club, and by extension I own you. Now sit,” he ordered, pointing to the other end of his private couch.
And Shiro had sat. Not just that night, but every night that Kay came in. He wasn’t there every night, but there was never a week that he didn’t come in at least once (usually two or three times). It was supposed to be a big “get” for Shiro that he had an established connection with the Don's nephew, but it hadn't yielded any leads. Kay didn't talk. He had friends with him—or more accurately, was accompanied by other people—but he didn't speak to them, either. Kay was simply quiet. Shiro wasn't sure why exactly Kay always asked for him, but he felt that perhaps Kay just wanted to have someone in the VIP lounge that wasn't trying to get something from him. To other people he probably came off as cold. To Shiro, Kay seemed lonely.
The night before everything went to shit, Kay had come by the Quintessence and, as usual, he requested Shiro and made him sit by him. They'd exchanged their customary few sentences. When Kay rose to leave, he leaned over to Shiro, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered “You're fired.”
He should have known then. He really, really should have. But Matt was getting fantastic intel and the force thought that in two more days, maybe three, they'd have all the information they needed.
Shiro didn't go in to work, but he did wait in the alley. Back up, supposedly. But then things got hazy. He knew they'd been ambushed. He knew he fought. He knew Matt got away. He had no idea how many hours he'd been in the back of a van, no idea how many hours he'd spent on a concrete floor.
Now he was in a room, somewhere, cold and in pain, with Kay's voice harsh and commanding.
And that was Day 1.
Day 4
The first time Shiro was fully cognitive again was on Day 4. He was bandaged, medicated, and handcuffed by one wrist to a bed. A bit unnecessary, by his view. He would sooner die than try to get up. Succinctly put: he felt like shit. Focus, Shiro.
It was not a hospital room, but it was close. No machines monitoring his vitals but he did have IVs in his arms and the room had a decidedly clinical feel. Still with the syndicate, no doubt, as evidenced by the handcuff. Overall, it was far nicer and more sterile environment than he’d expected. There was even a window. Not that he could see out of it, lying on his back, but still.
He must have dozed off again because he was suddenly roused by Kay’s voice.
“They told me you woke up,” he said. He sounded unimpressed.
“Sorry?” Shiro slurred. Wake up already. Focus.
Kay snorted. He pulled up a chair and sat down facing Shiro, but looked entirely uninterested. He played with his phone without looking up.
There were a lot of questions he could (should?) be asking, but right now his head was pounding and Kay was ignoring him. Might as well rest while he could.
When he woke up again the shadows on the floor had shifted noticeably. How many hours had it been? Kay was still there, still on his phone.
“Didn’t know the Galra had a hospital,” he said, attempting to sit up a little. Nope.
Kay snorted again. “Not a hospital, but you knew that. This is a recovery room in one of our houses. You don’t rank high enough for a hospital.”
Shiro nodded. “Fair enough.” But I apparently rank high enough for you. “Are you babysitting for someone else or am I yours?”
Kay smirked. “I don’t babysit.”
“So right now you’re…hanging out?” Shiro guessed, smiling faintly.
Kay might have smiled, but it was hard to tell from the angle. “Guarding my investment.”
“Can I keep him?” “I didn’t cash in a favor to have him die immediately.” “He won’t turn me down this time.” What had Shiro ever turned down? The initial order to sit by Kay? Probably just part of an act in front of Lotor. Or perhaps not? He was apparently an investment.
“What do you want from me?” Shiro asked, more curious than alarmed. “I don’t think I’m worth a favor.”
Kay sat up a little and looked at him, thoughtfully. “So you did hear that much. If you’d been awake, you’d have your answer.”
Shiro raised an eyebrow as if to say Obviously I was not awake, so are you going to give me an answer?
“I’m going to fuck you,” Kay said in a calm, even voice. He was testing him, Shiro realized.
“I don’t recall having turned down that offer,” Shiro replied.
At that Kay actually laughed. “I’ll make it again sometime. For now, just heal.” He went back to his phone.
That was fine with Shiro. He already felt exhausted. But before drifting off, he had one more important question: “Who are you guarding me from?”
Kay laughed again, but this time he sounded grim. “Everyone. You’re not exactly popular,” he added dryly.
Shiro nodded, and fell asleep.
Day 5
Kay was gone when Shiro woke up again. That made sense. The nephew of the Don had better things to do than sit bedside, and he was probably used to a more comfortable place to sleep. Judging from the light coming in the window, it was early morning. He called out to see if anyone was in the hall and a guard came in and allowed him to use a bathroom. When he turned, the sheets were clean and he was handcuffed again.
To Shiro’s surprise, Kay arrived about 20 minutes later, this time with food. One of his IVs must have been for nutrients because he hadn’t felt hungry. Until now. His stomach actually growled before either he or Kay could say anything. Kay smiled.
He pressed the button to raise up the bed and let Shiro sit up and then peeled an orange, alternating giving Shiro sections and eating his own.
“Did I interrupt your breakfast?” Shiro asked between mouthfuls.
Kay nodded. He didn’t seem bothered and handed Shiro a piece of toast. Once they’d finished splitting breakfast, Kay asked if Shiro was still hungry and Shiro said he shouldn’t push it until he knew his stomach could handle the food.
Shiro was feeling quite a bit better this morning. He should probably think either about escaping or somehow getting a message to Matt or the rest of the force. Might as well be blatant—Kay was neither stupid nor coy.
“Is anyone looking for me?” he asked.
Kay looked up from his phone, both puzzled and irritated. “Do you seriously not understand? I own you. Nothing else matters.”
Well then. “Not what I asked,” Shiro replied, keeping his tone calm. The kid had a temper.
Kay mulled that over and then shrugged. “I doubt it,” he said.
“Good.”
At that Kay looked surprised. “Why is that good?” he said, suspicion clear in his voice.
“Because that would be a fruitless effort and I’d rather my partner not get hurt,” Shiro said mildly.
Kay frowned and crossed his arms, settling back in his chair and studying Shiro. Shiro studied him right back. He knew from the case files that Kay was not yet 20, but he was already a skilled killer. As a half-breed (to the syndicate’s eyes) and a bastard, he’d had to fight hard to win the respect of the Galra, even though he was the Don’s nephew. To the outside world, he was heartless and dangerous. To Shiro, he was…well, he was still dangerous. But Shiro saw a young man who was not fully certain of himself, a man full of anger and who had few allies. He’d fought hard for everything he had. And one thing he had, apparently, was Shiro. The syndicate had recently started human trafficking. Perhaps Kay thought Shiro was a slave. Shiro almost chuckled. He might be a prisoner but he was no man’s slave.
“The day after I fired you,” Kay said, “did you come back because you were ordered to or because of your partner? The other plant—Matt, I think his name is.”
“I was ordered to stay away, actually,” Shiro said ruefully, “or at least it was strongly suggested that I stay further back. I was there for Matt. And it was worth it,” he added.
Kay smiled, but it was a private smile, like he had just affirmed something with himself. “In answer to your previous question—what I want from you is your loyalty. I want you to be my bodyguard.”
Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected. “You know I was part of an undercover operation to take down the Galra syndicate, right? And you do see that I failed spectacularly with that and now I’m bruised and handcuffed, right? Not exactly your best candidate.”
“I saved your life,” Kay replied. “You’re not the kind of man that lets debts go unpaid.”
Fuck. The kid had him there.
“So,” he said slowly, “should I start calling you boss?”
Kay made an amused sound and shook his head as he pulled out his phone. “You can just call me sir.”
“Yes, Sir,” Shiro said crisply, but there was a hint of a teasing in it and Kay smirked. “Does this mean your earlier offer to fuck is off the table?”
At that Kay laughed again. “Sorry to say that’s not included in the employee benefits. And for the record, off or on the table? Either would be fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir,” Shiro smiled. He liked this kid. Fuck, that was probably a bad thing. Let the Stockholm Syndrome begin, he thought to himself wryly. At least he wouldn’t be miserable.