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Geno Castelluccio
Turn Around
Mon Apr 30, 2007 01:08

Note: Timeline has technically be rewound one day to fix stupid charries in head.

“My ass still hurts.”

“Well if you wouldn’t have stayed glued in that seat like a baby, it wouldn’t be hurting, now would it?” Sean’s tone had only a slight teasing quality to it, causing John to wince. He wasn’t like Caleb, able to give up his… career, if someone wanted to put it that way.

It wasn’t even the issue of money! God, he had enough of that crap, and hardly ever touched it. After the unfortunate fall into a dumpster – John still shuddered thinking of that dream and what it did to him – he had been ‘reassigned’ during his down time. Which turned into a number of years, protecting the Blue family. Though there hadn’t been the need, considering that married couple was more than resourceful to combat any idiots that tried anything with little Jay.

But now ‘little’ Jay was all grown up, a minx on her own. With a child. It’d been too long since he had seen either of his girls, as John always put it, but there was safety for them in that. Jane running around the country, wanting to be the next Bond, her daughter at home with retired agents for parents. What the hell kind of life was that?

Fukk, what kind of life was this?

“All right,” John finally said, straightening his tie in the mirror. “I deserve that. I’m sorry.” How many times had he said that now? “I have my cell on me if you need anything.” Anything. He managed to get a semi-chaste kiss from Sean, which meant the man was still irked, but yielding. Well that could be fixed… tonight. “I love you.” Then he was out the door.

Unfortunately for them, they had gotten in late. Or maybe it was early. Regardless, it was pitch black outside, the sky heavy with cloud cover, just adding to his surly mood. But it also allowed him to speed through the streets without being caught by a cop in an equally bad mood. The drive felt like it took forever though, but he barely even garnered a second glance from the guard at the parking gate once his clearance was swiped through the machine. On his merry fukking way.

At least inside this building he wasn’t going to be seeing the light of day that was coming soon. Very soon. Eventually his happy ass got into a parking spot and grabbed a carry-on bag from the back seat before locking up and heading into the elevator that was ‘magically’ waiting for him on this level. Pffbt, if that was magic then he was the fukking leprechaun on the Lucky Charms box. The worst part of it all was that he could only access the lobby this way. Then there was another elevator! But at least someone was waiting for him.

“Agent Castelluccio?” Oh wow, the guy didn’t bugger up his name, which was a first, even if he cringed on the inside at how it echoed against the empty walls. Giving the affirmative, the fairly nondescript fellow in a business suit motioned towards the elevators he had been intent on anyhow. “This way, if you would.”

There were an awful lot of dings that signified another floor level had passed in the following time. And why did it always take forever in an elevator, even if only thirty seconds had meandered by? What felt like hours later, the doors finally slid open. Okay, this wasn’t a level he was used to. What looked like board rooms spanned each side of the hallway, glass windows and doors allowing a person to peek inside. Except for two, which had blinds closed, blocking the view. It was on one of these doors that his escort knocked, and opened it.

“Here already?” Oh he knew that voice. Little rat bastard! Mick was skimming over a file, leaning against the table. Maybe he had been pacing? There was activity in the room beside them, which he could see through an open door.

“We just got in. Coffee?” Ah-ha! Fabulous, there was a carafe on the table. “How bad is it?”

“Heart attack.” Idiot. John mumbled to himself, tossing the duffel in a corner and helping himself to some coffee. “Don’t want to say hi to your little friends in the next room?” Now that earned a derisive snort, nothing near laughter. “Aw, did you—”

“Not tonight, Michael. Just… don’t. I get a fukking phone call while I’m with—” John drew a breath, glancing to the next room. “With them, right after Caleb turns down the call. After pissed Italians, and a pissed husband, I really don’t need this shit.” Throwing the Styrofoam cup into a trash can, he took a deep breath and sauntered into the other room.

What he hadn’t expected were so many familiar faces. From men he had trained in the field, right up to… Jesus Christ, was that his old commanding officer? Oh God, it was going to be a long few weeks.

Hell, it was a long few hours! Everything had to be sorted, checked, re-checked, filed, signed, and stamped. In triplicate. Mainly it consisted of them promising not to try and sue the U.S. government, who technically owned their asses anyhow, if something bad happened while they were doing this. Pffbt, whatever. He didn’t even give a rat’s ass any longer.

In the end, it was painfully obvious that John was no good with people. Just no good, not in this line of work. Watching Mick was like observing a puppet master. He sort of wished there was a bowl of popcorn nearby. Anyone have some Junior Mints?

What he did excel at was tactics, not politicking. He simply didn’t have a way with words, like some rat bastards around these parts did. John was able to set up raids without blinking; pointing out where there would be an ambush, tripwires, or alarms of varying degrees. Men he could direct under pressure. More importantly, under fire.

It was so many hours later that Mick was speaking quietly into his cell, expression serene. A little too… serene. If anything, the actor was always avid with his expressions, and his rather… raucous speech. John was pretty sure that Devon had made him into a lewd bastard, but there wasn’t any proof of that. Or no proof that he was willing to dig up on the couple. Just… no. Ew, weird.

“Is he whispering sweet nothings in your ear?” John murmured, leaning closer to Mick. Sure, he could be a little bastard – all right, big bastard – sometimes, but he was still discreet about it.

“Apparently,” Mick replied in a light hearted tone, viciously stabbing a button on his cell to turn the thing off, “our beloved Bennett broke in to Caleb and Lucy’s home.” Wait, what? Now the Brit was snarling, and John couldn’t blame him one bit. “Nigel and Lara are there.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Ooooh! You mean they finally—”

“About fukking time.” The Brit was sizing him up with a smirk. “I win. Pay up.” Oh, that smile was all shark. Grumbling, John dug into his wallet for a fifty and handed it over. Mick glanced at his wrist, presumably a watch, shaking his head. “You have the auspicious prize of escorting me home.”

“Awe, do I get a kiss good night, too?” John snatched up his suit jacket, making smooching noises all the while.

“I do not fornicate with wild animals, such as yourself.” Oh, spurned! Clutching his chest, the Italian swayed, hurt expression and all. “And now you look like an injured dog. Sean has no taste.”

“Mmm, you’re just jealous you didn’t get to him first. But he’s mine, all miiiine!” Cackle.

Most unfortunately, the drive home was rather similar. With the sun rising quickly over the horizon, causing John to cringe, along with the banter that was exchanged. Though he could rarely get one up on the British actor; John chalked it up to jet lag. Or what he hoped was jet lag. If he was getting this slow in his old age, he didn’t want to see it ten years from now. Shudder.

“Night, pookie!” Smooch smooch. Mick slammed the car door with a dirty phrase. Something about bollocks and donkeys. Frankly, he just did not want to know.

The drive home was fairly quick, considering Mick had wanted to be dropped off at Caleb and Lucy’s place. Then he was home free! Everything looked okay when he drove around the corner, though a squad car was sitting there. Sighing, he pulled into the drive and shut off the car, staring at the garage door for a few long minutes before drawing a deep breath and hauling himself out of the Jeep.

Inside the house was quiet, extremely so. But he and Sean hardly ever woke up before ten in the morning, there was no reason to if unless an early practice was being held at the theater. Sneaking up the stairs, John shed clothing as he went, draping the items over his arm. Tip-toeing into the bedroom found a slumbering Sean on the bed, sheet barely clinging to his hips. Oh… my.

“Mmm… mornin’.” The slurred speech was adorable, even after all this time. Tossing what remained of his clothing onto a chair, John sauntered toward the bed. “You slammed the car door.” Well, it was more of a ‘Oo slam car dorb’ into the pillow, but he understood nonetheless.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” That was definitely a purr, as his tongue slid up the arch of Sean’s back. “Y’know, I lost the bet.” That drew a chuckle from the man beneath him, squirming so they could face one another. “And I owe you…” Oh definitely, judging by the few sounds he could get Sean to make.

So maybe leaving Italy wasn’t such a bad thing.

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    • Turn Around — Geno Castelluccio, Mon Apr 30 01:08
      • A Night on the TownCast of Characters, Mon Apr 30 11:34
        “It does,” he allowed, “but if you keep wearing that, I’m going to take you right here on the fl—” Nigel stared as Lara ran off. “So this is Nigel the Pimp? Where’s the hat?” Grabbing a handful of... more
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          “Ash. And now, Ah don’t need medical assistance, but thanks for askin.” Vittorio stared at the surfer, absolutely perplexed for several long moments. What the hell did he just say? Most certainly a... more
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