by Kara Greenan
The potential watcher just adds excitement to the well-known routine.
He checks to make sure the drapes are still pulled back, gives the inky darkness outside a cheeky little wave before he submerges himself slowly, the water just the right side of too hot. Almost immediately the muscles in his back loosen and he notices how much tension he’s carried around all day. It’s a bit brighter than usual, with the overhead light turned on, but needs must. He doesn’t dwell on it, instead slides his hand down his stomach and groans when his fingers wrap around his half hard cock. It's another way to relax, another familiar routine… But with a little added spice, just the way he likes it.
London, present day
Only two weeks after Frankie talking to London about adding Sebastian to their team, he’s scheduled to meet them in their little office. It’s too soon and London doesn’t feel ready, wishes for another two weeks, a month, or forever.
The weather’s awful, so he decides to take the tube instead of his bike, even though he could really do with an outlet for some of his nervous energy.
As far as London knows, Sebastian hasn’t been back to the UK for nearly a year. Of course he’d known London’s attachment to the same-named city, had even heard the story of how London’s name hadn’t been accidental at all. It’s a private story that touches on his background of growing up with foster families before surviving without them altogether. It’s not a story he rolls out for just anyone, and not at all since touching on it with Sebastian back in Venice.
Either way, Sebastian hasn’t been back here and London is sure that’s at least partially because of him. He made Hale give him a rough estimation of what Sebastian has been doing recently. From what he could dig up, Sebastian hasn’t been spending much time in Europe at all. Only the most lucrative jobs seem to have coaxed him out of LA, where he was spending most of his evenings getting drunk on expensive champagne and coaxing Fortune 500 members into a long con, paying for his exclusive bachelor pad and half of his closet, too. There hadn’t been any definite proof of a relationship with his marks, but London isn’t naive enough to believe Sebastian has been living a life as abstinent as his.
After all, he’s everything London isn’t; well liked, gorgeous and a part of the social elite since birth, with some sort of title attached to his name even if he didn’t speak about it in detail. While London might be able to at least contend with the being rich part, he has no chance against Sebastian’s familial fame. The best he can do is recall a patched together history of his mum, a bright-eyed girl that had left the countryside too young, heading for the big city, only to wake up pregnant and with no one to support her or claim the child.
He’s got sisters, too, several in fact. They’re younger than him and unlike him, they know their father, grew up with him. He never got that privilege, he didn’t even get to know his own mother. He knows she gave him up for adoption due to the difficult situation she found herself in and yet, he can’t seem to forgive her, not completely at least. That doesn’t mean he can’t miss her, or the idea of her and it doesn’t mean he won’t send her money. It’s to ensure his sisters don’t end up like he did, that his mum doesn’t have to make the decision of giving a child away ever again. But that’s the extent of their contact, for his family’s safety and London’s sanity.
At any rate, there’s definitely no blue blood running through his veins. He’d checked, of course, and had to bury that dream at a young age. No frail aunt would come to take him in, no fancy car would pull up outside the home, the driver proclaiming he’s here to pick up London and drive him to the country home where his father was desperately awaiting his arrival. He’d done a lot of growing up around that time. He sometimes wonders if that’s the reason he chose this life, playing cops and robbers, only with higher stakes.
London gives himself a mental shake as he climbs the steps from the underground. He's trained himself not to think about his past, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. At street-level he steals a quick glance around at the rainy and dreary city he loves so much, before taking the shortest route to their building.
The girl at the front desk looks up from reading just long enough to recognise him. There’s a quick smile and her head bows back down over her magazine. It’s a bridal one, London knows without needing to look – they’ve got complete dossiers on all the permanent staff thanks to Hale, and Frankie makes them study those religiously. The receptionist’s name is Martha and her unerring interest in bridal fashion doesn’t stem from her own impending nuptials. Instead, she’s the bridesmaid at her sister’s fast approaching wedding, only three weeks to go until the big day.
He heads for the lift, surreptitiously giving the camera in the corner the middle finger while grinning at it broadly. The only person that would watch the feed would be Hale. Besides being London’s go-to guy for dirt on literally anyone, his daily job also includes wiping the footage of them from the servers. They might have an office in a public building, but they’re still criminals. Slacking off would be career suicide. He’d lobbied for the top floor and had gotten his wish. He likes to think it’s because he can be particularly persuasive, but in the end it had probably been his proposed emergency exit – several abseiling kits stored in a little shed on the roof – that had convinced Frankie.
He yearns to go up there now, check on the equipment and maybe stay until the cold chases him down. He’s lived here long enough that he should be able to survive a few hours exposed to the elements, right? Just long enough for Sebastian to leave again. He sighs, and instead of turning right to head for the roof, he turns left towards their rented office. There are several others he passes on the way, the entire building composed of a multitude of different firms and small businesses, all looking for a small office space in the heart of London.
Amelia nods at him when he enters, before returning to her phone. She’s probably playing her long-time addiction, Candy Crush. Her legs are crossed even though her smart, knee-length skirt is rather tight, her top foot bobbing offbeat to the music. Her hair is done up in a bun, held in place by what looks like metal chopsticks. Probably knives, London reckons.
“Hey, love,” she says, not looking up.
He returns her greeting but can’t sit down next to her like he usually would, giving her unhelpful comments on how to play her game until she loses and shoves him away good-naturedly. It’s almost impossible for him to walk around without fretting, and sitting still is entirely out of the question now. So instead of assuming his usual space, he walks past the entrance area into the second room. Hale is there, only half his face visible over the three computer screens he’s got set up, a physical barrier between himself and the world, as is his preference. “Hey, London!” he says, giving a weird little wave.
“Hey, dork,” London says affectionately, walking over to stand next to him. There’s some sort of gibberish on two of the screens, the sort of stuff that only makes sense to hackers. The third screen is split into several smaller boxes, one showing a live feed of the lobby downstairs, Martha still turning the pages of the latest edition of Premiere Bride. There’s one for each lift, the stairs and the space outside their office. He knows Hale can even access the cameras outside. Thanks to the uncommonly high number of cameras scattered throughout the city, he’s followed potential clients home without ever leaving his seat.
“You’ll see him?”
“Yes,” Hale assures him. For a second he looks like he’s about to say something completely different but settles on, “Should I call you when he arrives?”
London bites his lip, nodding. “Thanks,” he murmurs, much too on edge to stay here and wait for Sebastian to waltz back into his life.
He heads to Frankie’s office next, the one just adjacent to where Hale has all his tech equipment set up. It’s huge, with several leather armchairs to interview potential clients. Their day job mostly consists of private investigative work, checking for cheating spouses and other similarly riveting stuff. It’
s boring but functions as a perfect cover for what they actually do.
Frankie is sitting behind her huge desk, sodden trainers dripping onto newspaper. She’s reclined so far back she’s staring at the ceiling, head resting on her arms.
“Heya, you doing okay?”
“I’m not quite that much of a fragile flower, thanks,” he grumbles.
“Just checking,” she replies, looking at him askance. “I could send you on an errand, make sure you aren’t here when he arrives?”
It’s nice she’s offering to ease the blow, but he hardly slept last night and right now, he just wants this to be over. “Nah, I’m fine,” and because he can’t help himself, he continues, “When’s he arriving?”
“I said ten,” Frankie tells him, a cunning glint in her eyes.
“You didn’t tell the front desk we’re expecting a visitor?” he guesses.
“’Course not. If he’s as good as everyone says he is it won’t be a problem, will it?”
It really won’t, London is sure of it. Sebastian has this aura that makes people like him, makes them want to gain his approval even though he mostly comes across as a spoiled rich kid. He could probably convince a gaggle of nuns to walk barefoot over hot coals for him. One receptionist won’t be an issue.
“He’s here!” comes Hale’s shout from the other room.
It’s like a lead weight is dropped into London’s stomach. Or maybe a magnet, because even though he doesn’t want to, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the screens again. His first glimpse of Sebastian after more than eleven months is jarring. Unlike the rest of them, he doesn’t make an effort to fit in. It’s how he pulls the attention of an entire room. Unlike London, who’s always slightly uncomfortable with that many eyes on him, it seems to feed something inside Sebastian, adds an edge to his walk that’s irresistible.
“Well,” Amelia says, trying to sound casual and mostly succeeding. “He certainly looks the part.”
They watch him make his way to Martha, who hasn’t even looked up yet. There’s a brilliant smile on Sebastian’s face, one that makes him look both innocent and trustworthy at once. It’s fake, a construct, one of many. London knows his real smile, the lazy one that shows just the hint of teeth and lifts the left side of his mouth higher than the right.
They watch Martha glance up from her reading, watch her do a double take before pushing the magazine away, giving him her full attention. He chats with her for a moment and while she’s looking him up on her computer, he leans on the counter heavily, probably under the guise of talking to her in a more private tone. She seems flustered when she doesn’t find him in the registry and London feels sorry for her. It’s not her fault; she’s caught in a game with far bigger players.
There’s more chatting and even a wink from Sebastian that Martha clearly enjoys. Then he points to the hastily shoved away magazine. It doesn’t take long after that. Martha glances around, laughing at something Sebastian just said. She gives him a visitor’s badge.
“That was quick,” murmurs Hale.
The rest of them start, having watched the exchange like some sort of bizarre job interview.
“I should think so,” Amelia says with a quick glance at London. “It’s his job, after all.”
“He’ll have to do more than charm a stressed receptionist,” Frankie muses. She doesn’t look worried though.
They watch him cross the lobby and enter the lift. Hale keys something into the system and the screen switches to the inside just as the lift doors shut. Sebastian is alone, and he shrugs out of his coat lazily. He pushes up his sleeves and, probably because he’s actually in an office building, does up one of the buttons of his shirt. London imagines he can still see the glint of a pierced nipple but bites his lip and ignores it. His white blond hair is next; the artfully swept long strands get finger-combed into something a tad more respectable. Right before the lift doors open, he plucks the visitors badge from his shirt. The changes aren’t big, but somehow Sebastian has managed to morph from charming rake to the type of guy at the office that has at least four people dancing with him at the Christmas party, only to go home with the caterer because she’s the prettiest there besides him.
London walks away. He doesn’t need to see any more. He hunkers down in one of the armchairs in Frankie’s office, his feet on the seat so he can hug his knees. He’d thought enough time had passed, he’d thought he’d be able to see Sebastian with, if not cool detachment, at least feigned indifference.
Amelia slides onto the armrest beside him, crossing her long legs, showcasing the sharp, six-inch heel of her shoes.
“Those look like a weapon,” he says as she pulls him into a sideways hug. Her subtle perfume, something floral, tickles his nose.
She wiggles her leg. “They are,” she says with a laugh. “Most things are, if used correctly. You okay?”
He nods but doesn’t pull back, wanting to feel her comfort for just a moment longer.
She smoothes her dark hair, the gold bangles on her wrist jingling pleasantly. “I can beat him up for you, if you want?”
He laughs, burying his face in her shoulder. “Isn’t there some kind of code against it? Like no hitting anyone outside a job?”
“Eh,” she says, shrugging. “We can make it official, if you want. You get my special best friend fee. One pound fifty.”
“Don’t know if he’s worth it,” he says truthfully. “Even with the discount.”
“Well, the offer stands.” There’s a familiar finality to her tone. She’s not one for mollycoddling, so her sympathetic reserves have probably run dry.
“Thanks. Now you better go outside and make sure he doesn’t charm your boy too much.”
“Hale isn’t my anything,” she says, getting up and patting the wrinkles of her skirt flat. “He’s also very straight.”
“Yeah,” London says, finding a more comfortable position in the armchair. “That’s never stopped Sebastian before.”
Amelia gives him a calculating look and London grins at her back as she walks out of the room slightly faster than she had entered. The quiet that follows her departure is not entirely unwelcome. It just brings his own loud thoughts to the foreground, and gives him a chance to actively quiet those voices. Not much time passes before he can hear them talking, introductions probably, Sebastian schmoozing London’s closest friends, invading that last part of his life. And maybe that’s why this whole thing upsets him so much. It’s not even about seeing Sebastian again or about what they had. It’s because London doesn’t make friends easily and cherishes the few close ones he has all the more for it. Sebastian collects friends like a kid collecting Pokémon cards, his favourites kept right at the top, closest to him, the lesser ones exchanged for someone better.
“Did you have a pleasant flight?” Frankie asks as she leads him into the room.
Sebastian follows behind her, giving an answer London doesn’t hear. He looks even better than over the security camera feed, better than London remembered. It doesn’t lessen his confused state at all and he can feel his defenses going up. It helps that he’s already annoyed with Sebastian before he’s even fully in the room. Annoyance, he can deal with. Lusting after someone he can’t have is just sad.
“You know London,” Frankie says and it’s so off-hand he knows it must be planned. He doesn’t miss the way she surreptitiously watches them afterwards, like she’s trying to gauge just how much of a liability they’ll be. Sebastian nods, his eyes sliding over to where London is still sitting huddled in the armchair. There’s just the barest flicker, the idea of tension around his eyes and it brings forth a surge of anger inside London. Sebastian is a con man, shouldn’t he be able to mask his discomfort? Or is he doing it on purpose?
Either way, it’s pissing London off.
“Yes, we parted ways after the Venice job,” London says, his voice perfectly acceptable, thank you very much. “I remember a rather touching goodbye.”
That last part is said with more
bite, and he looks straight at Sebastian when he says it.
“About that –” Sebastian starts, and is he for real? He’s going to explain leaving without a word now? In front of London’s friends?
“Let’s not dwell on the past,” London says quickly, getting up like he’s getting ready to flee. “Can’t think of anything more boring, myself.”
Sebastian can look stung all he wants. Right now the sheer audacity of it only further fuels London’s anger.
“Right,” Frankie says into the awkward silence. “Hale, can you get him an earpiece?”
“I’ll help you,” London says quickly. Hale chooses not to reply when he actually sees London’s face. He walks towards the door quickly, making absolutely sure not to brush against Sebastian as he walks past.
“I’ll stay here,” Amelia says, her eyes trained on Sebastian. He tries to give her one of his wide smiles, the one that has everyone within a three-mile radius fawning over him. When her expression doesn’t change, his grin falters.
London could kiss her, he really could. Her blatant dislike of Sebastian buoys his mood enough to ignore Frankie’s loud sigh as he follows Hale out the room.
“I really can get the earpiece myself, you know?” Hale says as they head to his little tech room.
“I know. This is about me needing an out. You’re really helping me right now.”
“Right. Yeah, okay.” Hale is an absolute genius when it comes to computers, but the subtleties of human interaction are mostly beyond him. “I thought you were fine working with him?”