You ain't got no pancake mix! (casiedearestfic) wrote,
You ain't got no pancake mix!

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Don't Look Back [Seb/Misha]

Title: Don't Look Back
Pairing: Sebastian Roche/Misha Collins
Rating: G
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Words: 700
Summary: Let's go steal ourselves a planet. Volume Two? :P
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: Written purely for theinsaneeraser on a spur of the moment prompt.

Looking back on it now, he really should have seen this coming. The steel bench, the steelier bars, the cold, brick wall standing darkly behind him. It wasn't an unfamiliar situation, really. He'd been here before. Or, at least, in some incarnation of it.

Sure, the steel had been made of tin, and the bricks had been a cheap, stiff foam. The guards and inmates had been paid and contracted, but... it was all the same.


Seven Hours Earlier

"Starch is a bacterial agent, Seb," Misha's voice was low and serious. "Which means it's a living organism," he explained, as if it should be painfully obvious.

Sebastian wanted to question Misha's logic, but, by now, he'd learned well and good that such questions were futile. Misha's mind was a battlefield of sorts. One too many bombs had gone off in there over time, and even more alarming was the number of landmines that had yet to explode.

"And, so, we..." Seb prompted on a sigh, shifting his weight to one foot, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Steal the starch."

Really, looking back on that moment, Seb should have known exactly what was coming. Misha had an entire volume of notebooks, all detailing his various plans for world domination. Some were wise, most not so much. Some involved chainsaws, or monkeys. Not together, of course. But most involved stealing.

And this was no different.

"Drive, drive, drive!" Misha's eyes were wide behind his not-quite-dark-enough sunglasses, as he held onto the dashboard of their rented truck.

The tires squealed loudly under them, as Seb banked the vehicle just a little too hard, in an attempt to blow off the police who weren't following them.

The heist had gone smoothly, not to Seb's surprise. The store had been nearly empty, and Misha had charmed the one girl on the register by speaking broken German, while Seb snuck out the back employee door with box after box of starch. It was simple, really, if even a little boring and tedious.

Seb didn't let himself think far enough to wonder what was going to happen once they finished the stealing.

"Reach higher," Misha urged, voice shaken slightly, and Seb rolled his eyes, as he stretched on his toes, to reach a box on the top shelf of the next hometown Ma and Pa corner store.

"The things I do for you are unbelievable," he admitted, before losing his focus to a commotion at the front of the shop.


And Sebastian did.

It wasn't quite so much the theft that had him in this predicament, no. It was Misha, all Misha, always Misha. It was Misha who'd insisted on stealing what was possibly one of the least useful things to either of them, and in large quantities, at that. It was Misha who'd 'forgotten' that vehicle rentals required paper work, and credit card dings, and not just lifting the keys out of an unwatched desk. It was Misha who'd let Seb awkwardly try to explain himself out of the situation, stuttering with nerves, while white powdered starch was all over his nose.

"Things ain't lookin' good for you, Mister," the young and cocky guard mocked darkly, smirking as he walked past the jail cell.

No, they sure as hell weren't, but be damned if Seb could bring himself to care. Because he'd spent his entire day making memories with the man who'd previously only been in fantasies. The handcuffs would bruise, he knew, a visible mark of Misha's doing. And if it took months for Seb to get out of jail, devil may care, because he sure as hell had something to look forward to on the other side.

Tags: !summer of saywut, !theinsaneeraser, fandom: supernatural, pairing: (spnrps) collins/roché, rating: g
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