Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Mel/Johnny, Red Hamilton, Tommy Carroll, Homer Van Meter
Fandom: Public Enemies
Genres: AU, Captivefic, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Spoilers: For the movie, natch. :)
General Summary: During the chaos of the shoot-out at Little Bohemia, Special Agent Melvin Purvis is captured by the Dillinger Gang and becomes a ‘Hostage To Fortune’…and ‘Johnny’s Indulgence’.
Chapter Summary: Mel sees a chance for escape. Disaster (and lots of hurt/comfort) ensues.
Date Of Completion: July 28, 2009
Date Of Posting: August 24, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1488
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by Mary Renault’s The Persian Boy. Alexander the Great’s men accepted their leader’s indulgence, who happened to be Bagoas, the Persian Boy, an ex-slave who shared Alexander’s bed. They didn’t object to him being male but that he was a barbarian (non-Greek). It showed their love and respect for Alexander when they accepted Bagoas, and learned to respect him in his own right.
Canon is a jumping-off point but I changed several things, including the survival of Johnny’s gang, as their dynamic was important to this story.
Mostly this is drama with elements of romance, so I said what the heck and included that in the Genre. :)
Yeah, this was going to be a one-shot, albeit a long one, but the boys were just too much fun to play with. ;)
So, enjoy this story of seduction, sex, and a touch of Stockholm Syndrome. ;)
The entire series can be found here.
They require extra-careful handling."
"How To Train A Racehorse"
“It’s just a matter of time.”
Johnny smiled confidently as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He and Red were leaning against trees a few yards from the cabin, enjoying the fresh air.
“Pretty hot for spring,” Red groused.
“It’ll blow over.”
“So our guest’s taking the carrot?”
Johnny laughed. “One can only hope.”
“It’s taking you awhile to get past first base.”
“He’s skittish, high-strung…” Johnny blew out a ring of smoke. “Remember the horses we saw at Hialeah? Our pretty guest is like one of those racehorses: a real thoroughbred that needs gentle handling.”
Red laughed. “Bet you’re hoping he’s hung like one.”
Johnny grinned. “He’ll be worth it.”
“High-strung horses have to be broken to be ridden.”
Johnny’s eyes sparkled. “He’ll be eating sugar out of my hand.” His expression grew thoughtful. “When I first saw him in the woods that night outside of Little Bohemia, I had two thoughts at the same moment: he’d be a great hostage for us, and this is my chance to have him.”
Red took a drag on his cigarette. Johnny had been fascinated by Hoover’s No. 1 G-Man for months, watching him in the newsreels, even going to the library to do some research on Purvis, strolling right in with a minimal disguise.
For such a careful man planning out robberies, he sure can be reckless sometimes. Red almost laughed. Part of the charm, I guess.
“What do you expect to get out of this, besides the obvious?”
Johnny smirked. “I’m hoping to neutralize our guest.”
“When we let him go, I’m hoping he won’t have the same zeal to come after us.”
Red snorted. “What if he’s got more zeal?”
“He might.” Johnny watched a robin fly through the trees. “But this one has honor, Red. He’ll feel compromised after being with me. He won’t be able to hunt us down as the shining paragon of the Bureau anymore.”
Red kept his expression carefully neutral. He had a feeling that while Johnny did intend to try and compromise Melvin Purvis, that wasn’t the whole story, or even just wanting sex from the man. There was something more.
“You’re risking a lot,” he said aloud.
“Maybe, but it could help in the long run.”
“I thought you didn’t plan after the next job.”
“I don’t.” Johnny stubbed his cigarette out with the toe of his shoe. “But this fell into my lap.” He smirked. “Or Mel did.” He and Red ambled back to the cabin. “Oh, and I’m rounding third…” he put his arm around Red’s shoulders “…and will be sliding home soon.”
Red’s laughter echoed through the trees.
Mel’s headache was back with a vengeance. He rubbed between his eyes.
He was attracted to Johnny Dillinger.
He’d known it for awhile, maybe since the very beginning.
Definitely since the beginning.
He was an officer of the law. He couldn’t be consorting with gangsters, even one treating him well.
He couldn’t allow his impulses to take over.
Mel knew what other men thought of homosexuals. His career would be over. Hoover wanted professional young men of ‘the right sort’, not men who put their tongues down each other’s throats.
He shivered at the image, his groin tingling.
Mel finally saw his chance that afternoon. He had a new guard for one of his bathroom trips and made his move, knocking Tommy Carroll out with a lucky punch before he could get the handcuffs back on. A quick search revealed that the man didn’t have a gun on him.
Mel slipped outside, glad that no one else was in the cabin. He headed for the trees, a shout of discovery spurring him on. Heart and head pounding, he raced through the woods, gritting his teeth when branches whipped him or he nearly stumbled over exposed tree roots. A bullet whizzed by his ear, another ricocheting off a rock, fragments spraying his hand as he swiftly held it up to protect his face.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness swept over him and he gasped as the world spun. His foot hit a stone and he fell hard to the ground. A familiar hand grabbed his arm as Red and Homer ran up, guns leveled at him.
“Oh, Agent Purty. Well, I guess you had to try,” Johnny said almost sorrowfully. His gun was untouched in his waistband.
Frustrated, embarrassed, and a little guilty, Mel allowed Johnny to help him up, submitting to the handcuffs without protest, unable to stop from swaying. Johnny looked into his eyes and frowned. He silently slid his arm around Mel’s back and took his hand, the agent grateful. Without those steadying hands, he would not be able to move.
Progress back to the cabin was slow. He hissed as the spinning grew wild, his face going white. Johnny immediately settled him on a large boulder, rubbing his back.
“Okay now?” he asked five minutes later.
“Yes,” Mel rasped, unable to chance nodding his head.
Johnny helped him up and they resumed walking.
Mel tried to focus, a persistent buzzing in his ears. He felt cold and shaky.
Suddenly, the world went white as the roaring in his ears overwhelmed him. He could barely hear Johnny calling his name as if from the end of a long tunnel. He managed to rasp out, “Johnny,” before he started to fall, strong arms catching and lifting him up before darkness replaced the whiteness.
Back in the bedroom, Mel came to consciousness stretched out on the bed.
“Glad to see you back with us, Sunshine.”
Mel carefully opened his eyes, wincing and quickly closing them again. He’d seen Johnny by the bed before the spinning began, and tensed as the gangster tended his palm.
“You should be okay now. The cut isn’t as bad as your other hand.”
“If I keep this up, I’ll look like a mummy,” Mel said weakly, trying to calm his stomach, which had been upset by the dizziness.
Mel bit his lip and took a deep breath, looking right at Johnny. “What’s my punishment?”
Johnny smirked. “You are eager, aren’t you?” He patted the agent’s good knee. “No punishment. Man’s gotta at least try and escape.” He gathered his medical supplies. “Get some rest.” He gently asked, “Still spinning?”
“No supper for you, then, unless your stomach settles.” Footsteps crossed the room and the shutters were closed, blocking out the glaring sunlight. “I’ll be back later to check on you.” A warm hand squeezed his shoulder. “Sorry that Homer got a little too enthusiastic when he clocked you at Little Bohemia. I hope you get some sleep and feel better.”
Johnny squeezed again, quickly locking the chains to the headboard, then left Mel alone, quietly closing the door behind him.
Johnny sat in the sitting room reading while his men played cards. The Zenith radio in the corner was playing orchestra music. He smiled. He’d play cards later, but right now he needed to go through some of these psychology books he’d found on the shelves. The music was soothing, his usual taste running more toward swing or jazz, but the classical stuff wasn’t bad.
He listened to his men’s banter over the card game while he thought about his conversation with Red. He’d been truthful about his reasons for taking Mel hostage. He wanted him, and wanted to get into his head enough to lessen the man’s zeal for pursuit.
But he wasn’t just using him.
Melvin Purvis fascinated him.
Mel had felt light, almost frail, in his arms when he’d passed out and Johnny had caught him. It hadn’t been a hardship at all to carry him back to the cabin, worry creasing his face. A surge of protectiveness had washed over him, not so surprising. Pretty Mel wasn’t like the other cops and agents whose paths he’d crossed, certainly nothing like the screws in prison, hardened by dealing with equally-hardened prisoners, some creating a shell for survival, others just plain mean.
And there was all that passion pent-up and coiled in a nicely-toned body, too. The man kept such a tight lid on his emotions.
What…or who…could unleash that passion?
That night a thunderstorm swept through the woods, wild and chaotic, and Mel shivered as he tensed under the covers, his head pounding. He’d never liked storms, especially the lightning.
When the storm finally passed, crickets sounded loud outside the cabin, branches brushing against the wall as the wind blew. A sense of melancholy settled into the pit of his stomach.
Mel felt very alone in his bed.
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