TW: Past abuse mentioned, child abuse, guns, trauma, slight panic attack, swearing.
Team Leader was pissed, it was clear on his face as Medic's hands ran over his body. Normally, he would've let his head tip back, pleasured sighs coming from his lips as his lover showered him with soft praise and affection, but he just sat there, rigid as his hands gripped Medic's hips.
Team Leader's eyes were trained on the monitors, watching the cameras. Waiting. The whiskey in his hand did very little to soothe his anger.
“What are you going to do?” Medic asked, hands slipping beneath Team Leader's shirt as she sat upon his lap, running her hands over his waist and abs and chest like she was trying to get him to break, but he was furious. Not even his lover's touch could calm him.
“Whatever needs to be done.” As if on cue, the door to his office opened, and Youngest walked through, guilt clear as day on their face. He patted Medic's hip once, beckoning her to get up. “Leave us.”
After some hesitance, Medic left the two of them in his office. Team Leader leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to remain somewhat calm. “Haven't seen you around today,” he said flatly, eyes fixed on his monitors before landing directly on Youngest's anxious yet defiant gaze. “What were you doing?”
They averted their gaze, chewing on the inside of their cheek for a moment. “Nothing.” They held their frame, not faltering, but their hands fidgeted behind their back.
Team Leader stood from his seat. “You want to try again?” he asked as he pulled a cloth from his pocket, unfolding it to reveal a strand of blue hair. No mistake, it was Youngest's. The dye job was patchy and the hair was far from healthy. “What. Were. You. Doing.”
Youngest tensed, then reached for their gun. They were still new to this. They knew that they couldn't mess up. They hadn't earned their permanent place here. But they had fucked up badly. They knew they were in deep shit. Mercy had not been earned.
Team Leader was quicker, pulling out his gun and pointing it directly at them. He didn't flinch. He didn't falter. He knew damn well that he wasn't going to give them mercy. They didn't deserve it.
“You won't shoot me,” Youngest said, though they didn't sound too sure. They still had their hand on their gun, but it was pointed at the ground. They feared raising it. They didn't know what would happen if they did.
“No?” The unmistakable click of the pistol as his thumb moved on the gun echoed throughout the room. His pointer finger rested on the trigger. A threat.
Youngest froze, hands suddenly trembling and heart hammering. They weren't sure what they should do, so they stood there, staring in shock.
“What did you think you'd find?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Were you trying to get dirt on me? Trying to find blackmail information? Were you trying to steal?” He shook his head and smiled, but there was no joy in his expression. “I don't like thieves.”
Ironic, Youngest thought to themselves, but they were too afraid to say anything. They stood there, breaths slow and calculated.
“You see, I've done this for a while, kid.” He walked around his desk, slowly advancing towards Youngest. “If you think I won't catch your mistakes, you are sadly mistaken.”
Youngest quit breathing when Team Leader stood next to them, standing as stiff and straight as a board. They were scared. They hated to admit it, but they were truly scared. They knew what he was capable of, and they had still crossed him. But… they also didn't feel too guilty.
Team Leader noticed the defiance that sparked behind Youngest's eyes, and it only pissed him off more. Instead of continuing the lecture, the barrel of his gun slammed into their jaw, the noise echoing throughout the room. Before they could double over in pain, he grabbed their arm, holding them up so they wouldn't fall.
He leaned close to their ear, squeezing their arm in a silent threat.
“And I'll put a bullet in your head.”
Medic watched as Youngest strode down the hall–no, they looked like they were running from something, but no one was following them. “What's wrong?”
Youngest didn't respond, only continuing to walk away from what had just happened. They clutched their jaw, eyes burning as they headed towards their room.
They slammed the door shut, pressing their back against the wall as their chest heaved. They couldn't breathe. The panic was clawing at their heart and lungs and aching in their stomach.
But it wasn't working. They slid down the wall, landing on the floor and clutching their chest as they tried to keep calm, but it wasn't working. Tears were streaming down their cheeks, hot against the bruise forming on the left side of their face.
They thought that they had escaped the pain and hurt from their past. They thought joining this group would make them tougher and give them a reason to keep going. They thought it would take their fear away. If they could kill someone, no one could hurt them anymore.
And they had really fucked up.
Medic barged into Team Leader's room, anger obvious on her face as she waltzed over to his desk and looking down at where he was sitting. “What the hell did you do?”
“What had to be done,” he responded, wiping a cloth over his gun, polishing it as if it was a living thing.
“They're just a kid,” Medic said, exasperation and anger evident in her tone. She couldn't believe him. “I know you're mad at them for what they did, and that's fine, but just know that was exactly how you used to behave.” She ran a hand through her hair, blowing out a breath. “You… You're behaving like a hypocrite.”
“Are you done telling me how to run my business?” he asked, calm, not looking up at her.
She scoffed and shook her head. She could see it on his face–guilt. Sure, he was ruthless and murderous and sometimes cruel, but he had been a struggling teen at one point, too. He knew how Youngest felt.
“Fix it,” she said, slamming the door on her way out.
Team Leader made his way down the long halls of what had become the team's base, strolling slowly as if trying to avoid the task that had been forced on him. He knew that Medic was right, but he'd be damned if he went soft on some kid. No one went soft on him when he was in their shoes.
He stopped in front of their door, letting out a loud exhale before raising his hand and knocking on the door. Twice. Hesitant, but firm. “Youngest?” he called when he got no response to the knocking. Still nothing. Team Leader hesitated for a moment before slowly turning the doorknob and opening the door.
The sight he was met with was nothing short of pitiful. Youngest was sitting on the floor next to their bed, face buried in their knees. When they lifted their head, Team Leader could see that they had been crying. Tears tracks stained their cheeks, and their nose was red. It was pathetic.
Youngest flinched as Team Leader stepped towards them, and Team Leader paused, dread settling in his stomach. He had really done it this time. Shit, he thought to himself, leaning against the wall across from Youngest. Shit.
Team Leader remembered the state Youngest was in when they had first shown up–bruises littering their skin, handprints on their neck, round burns on their arms that couldn't be from anything but cigarettes. Maybe that was why they always tensed when he smoked. Maybe that was why they always left when things got heated.
He slowly sat down a few feet away from Youngest, back against the wall as he watched them. He could see the panic in their eyes–the pure fear. Like a cornered animal.
“Kid,” he started, and he didn't miss the way that their fingers dug into the carpet, squeezing it like a vice. “I… I shouldn't have lashed out at you.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “Or hit you. I…” He hated to say it, but he knew that it was what he had to do. “I'm sorry.”
They lifted their head and bit more, meeting his gaze for a split second before looking away. “I'm sorry, too…” they whispered, burying their face in their knees again. “For, uh… sneaking into your house…”
“It's okay,” he said, slowly moving to sit next to them. He didn't miss the way that they tensed up. He didn't want them to be afraid. He just wanted a little respect. Trust, even. “I… I get it.” Slowly–slowly–Team Leader's hand lowered, dropping onto Youngest's back. He didn't move it or do anything. He just left it there. He could feel their shoulders shaking, quiet sobs coming from the kid's lips. “It's okay,” he whispered, looking down at their blue hair. “It's okay, kid.”
