scripted_sra: Larry holding his knife, mid-gesture, waving goodbye. (burn notice: larry & his knife wave bye)
Sara ([personal profile] scripted_sra) wrote2012-11-20 09:10 pm

Burn Notice | Five Times Larry and Michael... | Light R | Larry/Michael

Title: Five Times Larry and Michael Had To Stop Themselves From Killing Someone (and One Time They Didn't Bother)
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: Light R
Warning: References to violence/murder, one homophobic slur, references to sadism/masochism.
Pairing: Larry/Michael
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin, or: scenes of domesticity filtered through Larry and Michael's prism.
Word Count: 2,400
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Yeah, this AU has just taken over. Part of my dark!Michael 'verse. Thanks to Kelly for beta'ing and sweeping away all my errant commas.


“You keep pushing me like that, kid,” Larry snarled, shoving Michael roughly against the brick, one hand closing tightly around his wrist, hard enough to bruise. Michael’s other hand was rooted in his hair. “You are begging for it.”

“So fucking take it already,” Michael snarled back.

Larry kissed him like it was guerilla warfare, hard and unforgiving, and Michael tugged sharply at his hair, upping the ante.

“Hey!” called a voice suddenly. “Hey, what the fuck do you faggots think you’re doing?”

They ignored it, at least until Larry felt a hand on his shoulder, and then he whipped around, twisting the moron’s arm behind his back, switchblade out of his pocket and open in his other hand, quickly pressed against his throat. “You interrupted,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

“Fuck!” shouted the guy, clearly panicking now, but not able to get out of Larry’s grasp. “Let me go, fuck, I’m sorry, Jesus Christ, just—”

“Let you go?” Larry asked, mocking and light. “Why the hell would you think I’d do that?”

“Larry, we don’t have time for this,” Michael bit out, tone a frustrated growl.

“He interrupted us.”

“Who cares?” he demanded. “We’d have to find a place to dump his body, burn our clothes, lose the car, that’s three hours’ work, minimum. There are other places I’d like to be. Look at me.”

“What?” Larry growled, angling his head to get a good look at Michael.

“Leave it,” he snapped, meeting his eyes.

One glance at his expression told him all he needed to know: he wanted it bad tonight, wanted it hard and rough and wrecking, wanted a litany of new bruises, wanted to bleed.

Fuck. “Today’s your lucky day,” Larry said to the idiot, kicking at the back of his knee and felling him. “Get out of my sight.”

The guy ran, and Larry turned back to Michael, a dark promise in his eyes. “I’m taking this out on you,” he said in a low voice.

Michael smiled like a shark. “Dare you.”


“I want to slit his throat,” said Larry conversationally, but quiet enough so that only Michael could hear.

“I might beat you to it,” he said just as conversationally, just as quietly.

“Get ready to have your minds blown, guys!” called Jeff, walking back into the dining room. “Marianne made appetizers! They’re a surprise, but you’re going to love them.” He opened the bottle of wine in his hands, pouring them each a glass.

They both leveled perfect smiles at Jeff. “We can’t wait,” said Larry.

Michael just took a sip. At least someone had good taste in wine.

“I’ll be right back with those. Feel free to help yourselves to as much wine as you want—I know I will!” He laughed and headed back into the kitchen.

“No one should be that cheerful about appetizers,” Michael muttered. “Flip you for it?”

“Unfortunately, we can’t kill him,” Larry said reluctantly.

“Remind me why not?”

“Because we need this information, and his wife isn’t going to be stupid enough to get drunk and tell us everything.”

“You’re telling me we have to sit through dinner with this guy?”

“You’re the one who came up with this plan.”

“That was before I knew being stuck in a Kazakhstani prison was more bearable.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Larry admitted. “We’ll kill the next guy?”

“We’d better.”

They plastered on smiles again, just as Jeff reappeared in the room. “What are you two talking about out here?” he asked, placing a plate of something stupidly pretentious in front of them. “You look so serious!”

“Oh, just the past week’s business,” Larry said, affecting a resigned expression. “It’s been murder.”

Jeff made sympathetic noises at them, and Michael bit back a smirk.


“I think I found it,” Michael said, leaning over the blueprints splayed across the table. “Maintenance entrance isn’t covered by a camera, and inside, there’s a blind spot big enough to get us back to the offices.”

Larry glanced over from where he was peering out the hotel window with binoculars. “Guard rotation is still laughable. We could do this in our sleep, kid.”

“We still need a distraction,” Michael pointed out.

“You know what I’m going to say.”

“A low-key, non-explosive distraction,” he amended, and Larry smirked.

“You’re no—”

He was cut off by a sudden loud thump against the wall, followed by a distinct moan. There was another thump, then another, settling into a rhythm.

Larry and Michael both glared at the wall.

“Seriously?” Michael said.

“We picked this place for its location, not its well-insulated rooms,” Larry reminded him, slipping his hand into his pocket, fingers closing over his switchblade.

“Next time we book the adjoining rooms too,” said Michael, as the thumping sped up, and someone let out a high-pitched cry.

“Oh, she’s faking.”

Michael snorted. “Like you’d know.”

“You know I do.” He pulled his switchblade out of his pocket, eyeing Michael. “What are we going to do about the noise?”

“Not that,” said Michael, giving him a look. “Too risky.”

The moans and exclamations grew louder, more insistent.

“We’ve got to do something,” Larry said. “Who knows how many rounds this guy paid for, and I am not listening to that all night.” At Michael’s lifted eyebrow, he added, “Educated guess based on this hotel’s usual clientele.”

The thumping sped up fervently, then stopped suddenly, followed by a long, loud grunt and another high-pitched cry.

“Definitely faking,” said Larry. Michael snorted.

They waited a few moments, before hearing the unmistakable sound of their neighbor’s door opening and closing. “Smoke break or one hit wonder?” Larry asked.

Michael unzipped his suitcase, pulling out a small stack of bills and shoving them into his pocket, before heading for the door. “Let’s find out. Maybe we can make sure it’s the latter.”

“I like the way you think, kid.”

They left their room just in time to see a slight blonde woman disappear around the corner of the hall, in the direction of the designated smoking area. They found her smoking when they got there.

“Room 409?” Michael asked her.

She glanced between them, looking wary. “Yeah, why?”

“We’ve got a proposition for you,” said Larry, and she snorted.

“Sorry, guys. Booked for the night.”

Larry grinned. “Not that kind of proposition. I prefer brunets.” His gaze flicked over to Michael, and she smirked.

Michael rolled his eyes. “How much is he paying you?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Eight hundred.”

“I’ll give you twice that to leave now,” Michael said.

“As impressive as your performance has been so far, we’d prefer the quiet,” added Larry.

“You want to give me sixteen hundred dollars just to get out of here?” she asked, disbelieving.

Michael pulled the money out of his pocket, counting out sixteen hundreds. He held it out, giving her an expectant look.

“Fuck, I’m gone.” She grabbed the money, put out her cigarette, and left.

“You know, this gives me an idea for our distraction,” said Larry.

“Let’s go figure out the details.”


“What’s next on the list?”

“Our gun shipment came in,” Michael told him.

“About damn time,” Larry said. “It was supposed to get here last week.”

“Our supplier got hit by some Irish group before they could get everything out of Dublin,” Michael said, which made sense. He’d been hearing through channels that there was some family working on completely taking over that operation. “I got him to throw in some extra assault rifles for the delay.”

“Excellent,” said Larry. “Where to?”

He gave him the directions, and about thirty minutes later, they arrived at the location, idling just outside. “I don’t like the look of this place,” Michael said, eyes narrowed. Superficially, he guessed it was similar to all their other meeting places with this dealer, but the little things were off: too many places to get boxed in, not enough visibility, and not enough exit points.

Larry had his eyes narrowed too. “This looks like the kind of place I’d pick to stage an ambush.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

They pulled away and continued down the road just as Michael’s phone rang: Alec, their dealer. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Roger,” he said. “You on your way? You know I don’t like sittin’ still too long.”

‘It’s him,’ he mouthed at Larry, and Larry shot him a sharp look. Michael figured he was thinking the same thing that he was: since when did Alec call to confirm? “You also don’t like the phone much, Alec,” he said slowly, and then it dawned on him: this wasn’t an ambush, it was a sting.

He and Larry shared a communicative look, and Larry hit the gas.

“Well, I felt bad, you know, being late and all. You still want those freebies, right?”

“We’ll see you in a few minutes,” Michael said calmly, hanging up and dismantling the phone before tossing it out the car window.

“I’m going to kill him.” Larry’s expression and tone were pure, destructive rage, and Michael licked his lips.

“You can’t. He’s probably in federal custody,” he said. “You’ll have to find someone to do it for you.”

His eyes darkened. “That’s not nearly as satisfying,” he said, almost growled. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

Michael nodded. “We’ll work on it after we line up a new supplier.” They had a few contacts in the federal penal system; it was definitely doable.

“What about that Irish group he tried to use as a scapegoat?”

“For guns?” Michael considered it. “I’ll reach out. See if they have someone on this side of the Atlantic willing to do business.”

“Might want to let them know someone’s spreading spurious rumors about them, too, to cover up being in bed with the feds,” Larry said, smiling darkly. “I’m sure they won’t be very happy about that.”

“Think we might kill two birds with one stone?”

“If we do it right, we will.”

Michael smirked. This could be fun.


“Spot anyone interesting for tonight?” Larry asked.

“Still looking,” said Michael. “I’ve got a couple possibilities. Maybe him.” He nodded toward a guy by himself at the bar: lean, with a runner’s build and sandy-brown hair.

“Not bad,” said Larry, nodding appraisingly. “I’m getting a drink. Want one?”

“Just a beer.”

Larry left, scoping out other potentials while he waited for his scotch and Michael’s beer. When he headed back toward Michael, he saw that he was talking to some guy. Objectively speaking, he was attractive: blond hair, maybe six foot one, in shape, roughly Michael’s age.

However, Michael actually looked far more amused than interested, and a quick glance at the guy’s body language told him why: he was holding himself in a very confident, assertive way, everything about him spelling out power. Larry’s eyes narrowed briefly.

“Here’s your beer, kid,” he said, handing it over and clapping a free hand on his shoulder. “You make a new friend?”

The guy’s stance turned a touch more aggressive, and he said, “I’m Nick.”

Larry grinned with all his teeth. “Larry.”

Michael took a drink from his beer. “Nick was just telling me about his motorcycle.”

“So I didn’t miss anything interesting, then,” Larry said, taking a drink from his glass.

That earned more subtle aggression, maybe even a hint of menace. Larry mentally gave him a two: needed work. “We were actually in the middle of something,” said Nick. “Funny thing, he didn’t mention you.”

“Kid, how do you always attract the stupid ones?”

Nick glared, shifting closer. Larry just smiled, nothing warm in the expression.

Michael snorted. “I don’t actually have a ruler on me, just so you know.”

“Aww, c’mon, you think we’d even need it?”

“Listen, Daddy Warbucks, maybe it’s time you found someone your own age to play with and got the hell out of our way,” said Nick, moving close enough to shove lightly at his chest.

Larry laughed.

Then he lunged, twisting Nick’s hand backward, easily blocking his other fist, sidestepping him entirely a beat later and striking hard at his left kidney, which sent him down.

“Ready for round two?” Larry asked curiously, pulling his switchblade out of his pocket and flipping it open. “Please say yes.”

“Witnesses,” Michael said pointedly.

“You’re taking all the fun out of this, kid,” Larry said, sighing, but he closed his knife, putting it back in his pocket.

“I’m just pointing out you might want to avoid lethal weapons,” Michael said conversationally.

“Fuck you, you’re both fucking crazy,” spat Nick, getting up off the floor and stalking out of the bar.

“The last one put up more of a fight,” Larry said, sending Michael an unimpressed look.

“They can’t all be winners, Larry,” said Michael, smirking.

“Pick a guy already, will you?” he asked, downing the last of his drink. “I’m ready to go.”

“Going to go all caveman on the next one too?” Michael grinned, a hint of something nasty in the expression.

Larry only smirked. “Just make sure he knows his place in the pecking order.”


There was a man, roughly middle-aged, gagged and tied to a chair in the middle of the room. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and he looked absolutely fucking terrified. Larry broke out into a grin. “Who’s this?”

“Jared,” said Michael, then paused. “Jerome? Jackson. J-something.” He pulled out the guy’s gag, asking, “What’s your name again?”

“Jason,” he said, and actually trembled. That was amazing.

Michael shrugged. “I was close.”

“What’s—what’s going on?” Jason managed, glancing wildly between them.

“What is going on, kid?” Larry asked. “We didn’t have any plans tonight.”

“You’ve been complaining about wanting to test that new poison you got,” Michael said. He gestured at Jason. “Happy birthday.”

Larry laughed. “You know my birthday’s not for four months, right?”

Michael waved that away. “Whatever. Do you want him or not?”

“Did you really have to ask that question?”

“Just making sure, because I’m sure I could find another use for him.”

Larry grinned and clapped his hands together. “I’ll go get my stuff.” He waved at Jason. “Be right back.”

“You’re going to kill me,” he heard Jason say to Michael, just as he reached the exit.

“Of course we’re going to kill you,” said Michael, and Larry could tell he was grinning.

It made him grin too.
dariaw: (Default)

[personal profile] dariaw 2012-11-21 07:28 am (UTC)(link)
This is dark and hot and great. I love the one where they pick up a guy, the dinner party they hate, and really all of them.