Nothing Better To Do

Don sat on the bed beside the boy, trailing his fingers through the boy’s hair. How he loved to be finally able to do this. After weeks of watching and waiting and planning, the boy had let his guard down, allowing Don to bring him to the home he would spend the rest of his life in.

“Sam?” He called gently to the boy.

No response.

Don smiled, studying his sleeping face. He seemed younger, features softened so much that he was hardly recognisable as the hard faced, angry young man that had been the centre of the bar fight the night Don first saw him.

Don stroked Sam’s cheek, worried now that the boy had not woken. He had only slipped a small dosage into Sam’s drink (Don would be seriously questioning the boy on his choice of bars when he woke up), really only enough to knock him out.

As if in answer, Sam began to stir, groaning something about not drinking ‘that extra shot’. Don watched Sam’s eyes crack open slowly, bringing one hand up to rub against them.

“Sam?” Don asked, relieved that his quarry had finally opened those lovely eyes of his.

The foreign voice must have penetrated his fogged mind because in an instant, the boy’s eyes snapped open, taking in the fact that he was lying on a strange bed, surrounded by four walls… if they could even be termed as walls. Iron bars boxed them in the large underground room that Don had prepared especially for this moment.

The next minute, Sam was off the bed, thunderous look on his face. “Can I take it you’re the bastard that’s been following me around for the past three weeks?” he asked coolly. Sam narrowed his eyes as he looked Don up and down, as if Don was somebody Sam should probably know but couldn’t place.

Don chuckled, hiding his surprise that the boy had detected his presence. After all, the art of remaining hidden, to seemingly blend in with the surroundings, was a technique that had been taught in his family from parent to child, starting with the great great great great great great grandfather Don had been named after. “This bastard has a name. Don.”

Sam started as something flashed in his eyes. Don wasn’t sure what it was, but mere moments later it was gone as Sam cast his eyes over the spacious and comfortably fitted cage. A smirk crossed his face. “Not Don Eppes [*A/N Numb3rs reference] are you?” he sassed.

“Who?”

Sam shook his head, and looked straight into Don’s eyes, demanding “What the hell did you put in my drink?”

“I didn’t think you’d come with me if I asked you at the bar so I just gave you something to help you sleep.” Don waved his hand casually around the room, observing as the boy once again took in the comfortable silk sheet bed, the leather lounge suite set, exercise bike in the corner and the shelves upon shelves of books.

“You really bring new meaning to the term ‘hospitality’.” Sarcasm again.

Don gave a mock bow. “I aim to serve.” Exiting the cage and locking it behind him, he once again sought out Sam’s eyes. “Once I leave this room, this cage will be electrically charged. Touch it and you get 50 000 volts through your body [*A/N the equivalent of a taser]. Even if you do manage to get out of the cage, you’d still need a password for the security system to get out of this room. You could try to beat it outta me the next time I visit, but if I don’t bite, you’re pretty screwed. And don’t bother trying to scream for help. We’re underground.”

Don watched Sam’s eyebrows furrowing, no doubt thinking furiously of a way to escape his current predicament. But Don was confident that that could never happen. He had simply planned things too well. However, if the boy wanted to waste his time fighting something that could never be, well, Don wasn’t too fussed on that.

“So you’re telling me this place is impenetrable?” Sam asked shrewdly, particularly emphasising the last word.

“Anything wrong with impenetrable?” Don asked sweetly.

“Oh nothing. Said the Titanic to the iceberg. Glug glug glug.” [*A/N Brownie points for who can guess the originator of this quote]

Don stared, wondering if the boy he just picked up had a few screws loose in his head. Of course, even if that was the case, that wouldn’t stop his plans. But he was used to people going crazy during his plans playing out rather than being in that state beforehand.

Deciding to steer the conversation into other waters, he asked “Aren’t you going to ask me why you’re here?”

The boy shrugged. “Why ask when you’re gonna tell me?”

Don appraised him with renewed affection. The kid had such spunk. Don liked that. “Remember that bar fight you were in, about 3 weeks back in Lawrence? I was watching you as you were smashing that poor sod’s head into the pool table. Now I’m a good reader of people. But when I saw you in that fight, you were rude, aggressive, out of control. And everywhere you went after that, I was watching you. You were reckless, tail-spinning. You were killing yourself and you didn’t even care.” Don ignored Sam's knowing smirk, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I knew that wasn’t the real you. The outside world has tainted you. I’m just removing that influence.”

“So you brought me here for my own good?” Sam scoffed with barely controlled anger.

Well… that wasn’t the only reason. He had wanted this boy from the first moment he laid eyes on him and he would make Sam love him as much as he had come to love Sam. But Don had learned the hard way that if he wanted his lover to last, he had to be patient. He could no longer treat his partners as mere objects. Don needed to woo Sam rather than force himself on him like Don had done in the past. He needed to tame Sam to his touch. And to do that, Don would need to cherish and care for him. He did not want to kill the boy in frustration as he had his previous partners.

But he’d never worked to earn someone’s love before. He’d never had to. Don had always just taken what he wanted. So even though he was inexperienced with the concept of romance, he still did not think the task too difficult. After all, despite the boy’s prickly and sarcastic exterior, Don knew it for what it was – a front. Something had happened to this boy, some deep rooted pain or loss that had made him put on this mask, to hide his true self. But from the bar fight alone, he could tell that the boy had been starved for affection for a long time. When Don offered it freely, Sam would easily be his. In every sense of the word.

“You’re gonna need consent for that. Keeping me here isn’t really helping with the trust factor. Besides, you’re not my type.”

Don started to hear Sam’s words. He wasn’t even aware that he had said the last bit aloud. Trying to regain his composure, he latched on to Sam’s statement. “Not your type? Why? Because you’re not gay or you just don’t like me because I’m black?” Don would have to rethink his new ‘not killing his partners’ policy if the boy turned out to be a racist son of a bitch. Don had had enough of those damned bigots and their filthy words in his lifetime.

“I don’t care if you’re black or white. I just don’t like crazies a few fries short of a happy meal who pretend that they’re helping you after they’ve fucking kidnapped you.”

Don smiled, both at the boy’s strange choice of expression and in relief that he wouldn’t have to kill Sam. In fact, he was beginning to look forward to the upcoming challenge. If it could be called a challenge. Because it was clear to Don that Sam’s devil may care fecklessness was a cry for help. That Sam needed someone who would love and protect him, dominate him yet make him feel loved and safe at the same time. And Don was the man for the job.

“You don’t trust me, but you will,” Don said knowingly.

“Pigs might fly!” Sam snapped, disgust and fury palpable in his words.

Don smiled. While he truly appreciated the spirit, Sam was too much of a loose canon and needed Don to teach him to control his temper. And he was confident that while Sam may fight him tooth and nail in the beginning, once Don began his campaign of persuasion, Sam’s will would seep from him, allowing Sam to be loved by Don in the way he was supposed to be loved.

“Laundry and bathroom’s through there.” Don pointed to the back of the room, where the centre of the rear cage wall branched out to touch the boundaries of the room, forming a short corridor which led to a wooden door. “Clothes are in the drawer under the bed.” Don turned to leave, feeling the boy’s eyes on him as he walked up the darkened staircase, stopping where the stairs met the wall.

“I’ll see you later Sam, when you’re in a better mood,” Don called over his shoulder as he entered the password into the security panel and watched as the wall in front of him slid open. “I’ll bring you some food too.” And without another word, he walked out of the room, the wall sliding silently back in place.

SNSNSNSNSNSNS

The lone monitor blinked to life and Don licked his lips as he observed the boy. He was thoroughly expecting temper tantrums or futile attempts at escape but was extremely surprised when Sam merely paced the confines of the cage and examined his surroundings, watching as Sam explored the drawer under his bed, the laundry and bathroom, ran a hand over the leather sofas and looked at the books on the shelves. When Sam peered beyond the bars of his cage and finally noticed the photographs of himself that Don had attached to the walls of the room, no doubt noticing that the photos spanned across a period of the past three weeks, Sam merely rolled his eyes and his lips curled up into a sneer. Sam didn’t look frightened at all. As if being kidnapped was such a common occurrence that it was now a fact of life to be met and dealt with as easily as one would deal with an obnoxious work mate.

The boy had intrigued him from the start, interested him enough for Don to spend the next three weeks stalking the boy and to carefully plan the boy’s induction into his home. And his less than predictable behaviour was a refreshing change, allowing the boy to captivate him further. Don couldn’t wait until the boy willingly submitted to him.

TBC