A/N: probably should have put an author's note on the last one to give the heads up that this is a story - so there'll be exposition and development, and not always a tonne of sex: for example, this chapter has NO SEX :-) If you're here for a one-shot, love you, but this won't work between us.
BTW if you have constructive thoughts on the plot I'd love it if you'd drop a comment. I know these boys are dumb and can't even use the excuse of 'we've all done dumb stuff', because, er, not like this we haven't, but I just had the idea and ran with it and then like a dummy fell in love with Ollie cos he's such a grump, so kept going. It's going to get even dumber ;-)
*****
Chapter Three
We finalize the plan meticulously, deciding that we'll keep him at my grandparents' farm for the, hopefully, few days he'll be in our care. My grandparents and I aren't exactly close, they'd never got over the loss of their only son: first when he was spirited away by my pregnant mom when he was away at college and then later, more permanently by an over-tired long-distance truck driver. I was a daily reminder of both of those losses and I don't think they've ever truly forgiven my mom or, by extension, me for them.
I wasn't easy as a kid, dealing with being different in so many ways. An orphan, mixed-race, gay. I got into trouble with local law, but luckily my grandparents are well respected in the town and they always, albeit unwillingly, bailed me out, talked to the sheriff and got any potential record expunged. It was an opportunity to feel some privilege and get a little attention, which almost made me want to mess up more, though I apparently at least had enough sense to see back then that wasn't the best way to do it.
I managed to pull it together in my senior year, partly feeling some need to pay them back for their support over the years, however dutiful it had been, but mainly out of a need to get away. They appreciated my brains because it reminded them of their son, and I think that saved me from being sent away, although they found it hard to express any love for me. I wonder, now, if my brains will save me again.
We do get on a little better now, as distance can do that. I rarely go back during vacations, claiming a, genuine, need to earn money, but they are going away over the next vacation, travelling south in a used Winnebago, getting in their own version of the holiday of a lifetime. They have asked whether I will check in on the farm while they're gone so my presence there should be not much more than a mild interest in the town.
* * * * *
"Slater, how are you going to be sure Jason isn't going to talk about this?"
"He won't Ollie, I trust him."
"As much as you trust me and Mikey?"
"Sure."
That's what worries me. Slater doesn't distinguish between us and Jason. Mikey and I who have had his back through everything, who helped him set up the freshman prank where he snuck into his team captain's frat house to steal his lucky jockstrap, who pull all-nighters with him to get the grades he needs to keep his scholarship, who provided shoulders and whiskey when his sweetheart ended things in sophomore year. And Jason, who sometimes gets him invites to decent parties.
* * * * *
The day arrives. We are actually going to do this. I have still never seen Sebastian Winthrop III, although Mikey has joined Slater in his reconnaissance over the past couple weeks. Because we are keeping him at the farm, it's been determined that I will be the one babysitting him, so giving him the fewest points of familiarity as possible is important.
We are seated in Slater's idling car in the street by the furthest point of the parking lot from the entrance to the gym. Though it isn't late, just 8:00 p.m., the sky is suckingly dark, thick cloud cover meaning no stars are visible, and it's cold, Slater's old engine barely providing enough heat to fill the space. The corner we are in has no artificial light, although there are multiple pools of orangey brightness between us and the gray concrete building. These reveal that there are two cars remaining in the parking lot: a rickety Ford, almost as decrepit as Slater's hunk, and a gleaming black Jeep. We are parked as near to the Jeep as we can be whilst remaining out of the light and away from the security cameras that only cover the first few feet of concrete at the entrance to the gym.
Mikey is up first, and he crouches next to the car, pointing a BB gun toward the closest light. He lines up his shot and - bang - the light is gone, tiny shards sprinkling down onto the ground, invisible now. One more, toward the middle of the lot, and he demolishes that with ease too. He slides back into the car, shaking off his cold fingers and sliding his thick black gloves back on.
I look out, the Jeep is now in darkness and we are ready for the next stage. We don't know how long we have to wait, apparently the brainless jock often works the machines after practice, although everyone else was gone thirty minutes ago.
Suddenly, the back door opens and a cold muffled body slides in.
"Guys, I'm glad you're here, I thought I might miss you."
Jason is blowing on his frozen fingers to warm up, huffing his steamy breath into the cool air of the car.
"What the fuck?"
I'm incensed - this is not what I agreed to, and I turn to face a sheepish looking Slater.
"Listen, man, Jason really helped during the set-up, and he just asked to be in on the pick-up. We might need him, we don't know how the kid is going to react."
'Helped' I'm thinking. Bullshit, the guy went to a couple of parties which, as far as I can work out, is pretty much all he ever does anyway. He's an unknown quantity now, and I'm suddenly feeling the danger I think I'd been managing to suppress before. I look back at Mikey and he too looks nervous in the dim light, but doesn't say anything, I know he doesn't want to rock the boat. Chilled out Mikey. I shrug, I'm not getting into it now, provided he leaves with the others after we get to the farm.
There's no time to argue anyway, as the heavy red door swings open and two men step out under the artificial light. It's hard to see them properly from this distance, but I can tell one of them is Coach Wilkins by his college jacket and his beefy silhouette. He's a huge grizzled bear of a man, and we definitely don't want him still around when the snatch happens, so we wait with baited breath as he locks the door, slapping the other, far smaller, man on the shoulder as they share a few words and he turns to his car.
This is the first point when it could go properly wrong and stop us from making the snatch. Wilkins needs to be gone before we move, but if the other man chooses to even jog to his car...
Mikey, Slater and I exhale the breaths we'd been holding as the young man swings his bag around, fishing his phone and ear buds out of a side pocket. By the time he's squeezed them into his ears, Wilkins is already peeling out of the lot, ready to be home after a long day.
The young man steps forward now, heading to the Jeep, and as he passes under a closer lamp he lifts his head and I get my first look at his face. Shit, he's breathtaking. This is not the face I pictured for Sebastian Winthrop III, spoiled little daddy's boy. He's taller than I first thought now he's away from Wilkins' dwarfing presence, close to six feet, I think. His visage is that of a Greek God; high cheekbones and full lips with a defined jaw that I can just imagine running my tongue along to reach a soft earlobe, sucking it into my mouth...
"As I was saying," Slater coughed, throwing me a stern look, "Ollie stays in the car ready to drive and the rest of us grab him as quickly as we can and carry him over."
They exit the car, pulling black cotton balaclavas over their heads. I pull mine on too and wait as they travel in the shadows until they are close, but on the far side of the Jeep to Sebastian. I watch him approaching his car, moving with the easy feline grace of an athlete, and I lick my lips. Christ, I'm going to have to pull myself together now we're doing this. I will not be the weak link, Jason is worry enough.
The boy is oblivious to the danger, scrolling through his phone while his head bobs to music in his buds, though he pauses the scrolling to beep open his car, swinging the door open to throw his gym bag over to the passenger seat. I admire the way his obliques flex as he reaches over with the bag, visible because he's wearing a loose deep-cut tank that doesn't hide much, and I wonder how he's not freezing. All the talk had him as a running athlete, fast and wiry - Slater certainly hadn't disclosed just how built he is. For a moment I'm even pleased that Jason is here as back-up, although that feeling's unlikely to last.
Slater and Mikey move in with precision as Sebastian straightens himself, flinging a black cotton bag over his head and pinning his arms, which Slater swiftly cuffs behind him. He struggles, twisting his body against them, and Jason steps forward, planting a heavy sucker punch to Sebastian's solar plexus. I see him double over as the air is pushed from his lungs, almost slipping from Mikey's grasp. Slater turns to Jason and apparently says something angry, based on his body language, though Jason's own just maintains its usual arrogant demeanor.
They get him to the car without any further problems and push him into the rear seat, and everyone removes their uncomfortable masks. I can hear muffled shouts from behind the thick fabric hood, but he quietens and straightens quickly when he feels himself come up against Jason's bulk in the seat next to him. Jason roughly grasps his neck, his beefy hand circling it with ease, pushing him forcefully against the back of the seat.
"Shut up. You co-operate, and you won't get too seriously hurt. Fight us and it will end badly for you."
His voice is a vicious hiss and Mikey and I share a shocked glance. Sebastian is silent now and I can see his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.
Slater pulls Jason out of the car and turns on him. I can't hear what he's saying but he's furious, more even than I had been at the idea of Jason being involved. I look back at Mikey and shrug, he's got years of martial arts training to fall back on if Slater sends Jason away, so I'm not worried about that, it was the original plan after all, but I am worried about what Jason might do. But Jason slides back into the car, looking marginally contrite.
Slater climbs into the Jeep and drives it to a dark street a couple blocks over from Sebastian's frat house with us following. He slides into the passenger seat of his car, pushing the gym bag to the floor by Jason's feet and shooting him a look that dares him to make a fuss. Part of the plan accounts for the Pi Kappa Alpha house having a party house atmosphere like all these rich-kid Greeks, and Sebastian avoiding them. We hope that they wont even notice his absence for the rest of the weekend and that it will take until the vacation before they're coordinated enough to realize he's properly gone. By then, he should be back.
"Where'd you get the cuffs?" I whisper to Slater as we head toward the Interstate; we'd discussed using zip-ties.
