IMAGINES ⌲ mitch rapp

just a kid

THIRD PERSON

Stan crossed his arms as he waited for Mitch to enter the house, having gotten off the phone with him a little over two hours ago. He had said to him that he would come, but Stan wasn't so sure after the argument he knew was going to happen when he called the young man in the first place.

Mitch's gruff voice answered the phone after glancing to the 4:26 A.M. clock on his bedside table, "What is it?"

"We have a problem and I need your help."

Mitch sat up in bed, the comforter falling to his waist as he furrowed his eyebrows at the dark room. "What's wrong?"

Stan took a deep sigh as he rushed to pack a suitcase on his end. "My kid, Rapp. We had some problems in Istanbul that rose up and for some god foresaken reason they found out about it. They tried to pull a kidnapping but luckily, I'm not as stupid as all of you may sometimes think. Got my kid to safety, but not for long -"

Mitch was too caught up on the word 'kid', "Holy shit, Stan. You gotta kid? I didn't know."

"You weren't supposed to. It was a need-to-know basis for this exact reason. Besides the point. I need you at my location to watch over my kid while I go deal with this. Irene put me on this voluntarily, but hell, I would've gone anyway."

Mitch instantly became annoyed. "Stan, you know damn well I'm not a babysitter."

"Looks like you are now and there's no point in arguing with me. My kid almost died 48 hours ago and I think your health would appreciate it if you cooperated with me."

Mitch rolled his eyes, knowing the man was right. Of course he was going to protect this kid for a bit while Stan was gone, but that sure as hell didn't mean he would enjoy it.

"Alright, your location," Mitch sighed, standing up from his bed as he rubbed his eyes He scratched his bare chest and looked around for a shirt. "I'm heading over."

Stan felt a little relief. "Alright, my kid's already here but if we're gonna have any chance at catching these assholes, I gotta catch a plane in 20 minutes. When you come in, come in through the basement. My kid will know it's you if you come in that way, won't freak out."

Mitch almost scoffed. "I think I can handle a kid."

Stan actually chuckled for the first time in 72 hours. "Kid's a spitfire, good luck not getting your ass kicked. Remember, my kid."

Mitch thought a bit as he tied his sneakers, nodding in understanding to himself. Why wouldn't Stan's kid be able to fight for himself?

"See you soon, Hurley."

"Hopefully, without clean hands, Rapp."

Stan threw the bag over his shoulder and left through the front door, locking it for himself before heading towards his car. He was only a little nervous to leave his kid here after recent events. With a deep breath, he turned they key and revved the engine, spinning off the gravel trail and into the tree path that led back to the highway.

Mitch rolled into the driveway a mere five minutes later, almost perfect timing. The sun was finally rising and he applauded himself for only yawning a few times. Maybe this kid would take it easy on him. Mitch wasn't excited to deal with some brat little boy, but he thought for a moment again and knew Stan wouldn't put up with that shit himself, especially his own kid.