Twenty-one by InSilva
Disclaimer: Ocean's characters belong to someone else. The syrup is all mine.
Summary: "Body and Soul" verse one-shot. Rusty turns twenty-one.
A/N: indisputably for otherhawk. Because she DID ask for it. But then I did ask her to ask. And otherhawk? Am still laughing.
February 1984.
"You are coming home this weekend, Rusty dear, aren't you?"
Annie's voice had a note of concerned enquiry that wasn't usually there. Usually, there was concern of a different kind when he phoned: a number of things could be wrapped up in "You are remembering to eat properly?" and "You are looking after Danny?".
This time was different and it took a moment for Rusty to work out the reason. He sighed inwardly. He didn't want and he didn't need the fuss. Not now, not ever. Although he would admit that it was nice to have people in his life who felt the fuss was important. And he should have realised that Annie was never going to let the day go unmarked.
"Of course, Annie," he reassured and the sigh of relief the other end of the phone was inaudible and at the same time, loud and clear.
As he hung up, Danny looked over from the magazine he was flicking through and not reading.
"Going to Saul and Annie's at the weekend," Rusty said.
Danny nodded. "Figured we might be."
They arrived early evening with flowers and malt whisky and Danny hung back as Rusty disappeared into a warm embrace from Annie.
"It is so good to see you," she told him fiercely. "You have no idea."
Rusty held her tightly.
"I have every idea," he corrected lightly and felt the warmth and the love that had always been there from Annie. Always.
Saul had told him on their first meeting that he was married to a wonderful woman and she was so much more than that. She was accepting, unquestioning, loving, protective… She was beyond words. He kissed her on the cheek and she flushed happily and then released him and Saul was there with a quick hug and a gruff "It's good to see you". Annie beckoned Danny forward and he shook hands with Saul and kissed Annie on the cheek and Rusty felt as he always did when the four of them were together: that life did not get much better than this.
Except it did, because there was dinner. Dinner was beef stew and dumplings followed by bread and butter pudding. Rusty knew that whenever he ate - and he ate often - and whatever he ate – and his diet was…varied – he would always remember Annie's cooking. He stared down at the empty bowl with regret and Annie laughed.
"You do come back to see me for more than my cooking, I hope."
"You looking after yourselves?" Saul asked casually and Rusty knew he was talking about life on the con.
On the whole, life was good. There was fun and intensity and magic and the thrill and the skill and Danny and it was all an addiction that he knew he was never going to be able to give up. That he was never going to want to give up.
But then there had been darker times. Rusty thought of the Barrowby brothers, not so long distant, and bit his lip. Saul saw it and his mouth tightened and Rusty berated himself because there would be questions.
Danny gave him a wrinkle of a grimace that said he knew Saul would be asking. And then Danny flashed charm and genuine smile at Annie and conversation had been directed elsewhere.
Annie had refused all help with the dishes.
"Go and sit down and put your feet up, the pair of you. I can tell Saul is dying to talk to you and I am absolutely certain I don't want to know what about."
Saul had the whisky poured and waiting.
"So tell me," he said as they accepted the drinks and sat down on the couch.
There was a brief glance. Neither liked to share, not even between themselves, although that had been accepted as a necessity. But Saul was Saul and there was some sort of higher authority thing going on that they might outgrow in time but that at the moment, they were not going to be able to deny. Saul expected an answer and until he got one, he wouldn't let it lie.
After you.
Thanks.
Rusty cleared his throat. "We had a little run in."
"Nothing serious," Danny added, not looking at Rusty.
"You get hurt?" Saul asked mildly, his eyes on Rusty.
"Only surface." Rusty chose to take the question as meaning just him and just the physical and he wasn't lying. Danny, on the other hand, had been a patchwork of blood and bruises and Rusty didn't want to think about the pain of seeing that.
Saul leant forward and looked at him keenly.
"Did you get hurt?" he repeated with a slight change of emphasis.
Rusty could not stop the flash of fear and memory leaping into his eyes and out again. He was silent.
Saul took a sip of whisky and looked at Danny and back at Rusty.
"How did it happen?" he asked quietly.
"We got sloppy," Danny volunteered with a sigh. "We stayed for a drink when we should have started running."
Saul looked down at his drink and Rusty knew without seeing there was worry and frustration bubbling away there then he looked back up at the pair of them.
"Have you learned?" he asked eventually.
Rusty thought of Fort Worth and a poker game where they had cleaned out two men they should have left with somewhere to go; of a bar afterwards with a quiet drink that had included a round of tequila slammers and dares and of the looks they attracted and the feeling that they just didn't care. And the fact remained that they had been watched and that people had seen and known what to do with the knowledge. And later with the clawing terror and the screaming inside and the long, lonely helpless night.
"Yes," he said simply and Danny nodded. They would be smarter. They would be more careful.
"Good." Saul looked at both of them and sighed. "So long as you do."
"Your bed's made up, Rusty," Annie said. "And I've made up a little bed alongside, Danny. Thought you boys would like to be in together."
There was a careful casualness to the last part.
You think she thinks?
I told her otherwise.
Maybe she just thinks you're irresistible.
Maybe she thinks you are.
"Thanks, Annie," they both said.
Rusty came back from the bathroom to find Danny changed into dark blue pyjamas and sitting on the edge of the camp bed.
"Pyjamas?"
Danny just looked at him. "Of course, pyjamas."
Rusty considered for a moment.
"Huh," he agreed. "I guess."
He looked down at his boxers and then fished an old T out of the drawer and pulled it on. It still fitted. Just about.
Better.
Rusty looked at his bed and at the camp bed.
"You should-"
"No."
"You're the guest-"
"No."
"Well, we could-"
"We couldn't."
Pyjamas, remember.
Rusty sighed, admitted defeat, hit the lights and climbed into bed as Danny settled down alongside him. Rusty peered down at him.
"You OK?"
"Fine."
"You think they'll check? Because, honestly, there's plenty of room-"
"Do you want to explain?"
No, no, he didn't. He really didn't. Mostly because he couldn't. Unquantifiable. Always had been and probably always would be.
"Goodnight, then," Danny said firmly.
Dreams, if he'd been able to hang on to them long enough to remember, must have been pleasant because he woke up with a vague happy feeling. He rolled over and stared down at Danny, still out for the count and then rolled back and stared up at the ceiling.
Four and a half years since he'd first lain here, uncertain, unsure he'd made the right choice, wondering what Saul wanted and whether everything being offered was the equivalent of a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. If he tried, he could still remember the sharp edge of fear of a betrayal that never came, that never would come.
It had been a packed four and a half years. There had been joy and fear and all of it came back to the new life he had begun in this house, in this room. His room. And apart from…and apart from…he swallowed. Apart from either of those times, his room had been nothing but good memories and safety and security and love. And now there was Danny. And nothing had changed.
There was a hesitant knock at the door and Rusty sat up and saw Danny do the same. The knock was followed by a very long pause and then the door opened and Saul and Annie were there.
"Happy birthday!" they chorused.
"Bagels and coffee," Annie announced.
"And milkshake," Saul added.
"When you're ready."
"No rush."
"But they're on the table."
"And so's your present."
"Alright!" Rusty interrupted with a laugh.
"We'll be down," he promised and they backed out of the room, Annie giggling and Saul's arms wrapped round her.
"Happy birthday," Danny said formally.
"Thanks."
"You feel any older?"
"Not when I'm with you."
Danny shot him a suspicious look; Rusty concentrated on an expression of complete innocence.
The table was full of breakfast and there were cards from Sam and Lucy and Marty.
"Told them you were coming home," Saul explained. "They wanted to let you know they remembered you."
Annie pushed a card and small package across the table. Rusty opened the card and a hundred dollar bill fell out.
"Thought you could treat yourself to a nice meal out somewhere," Saul said.
There was no need to give. Of course there was no need. But at the same time, there was a desire to give and Rusty smiled his thanks. The card had been written by Annie and there were words of love that made Rusty blink rather quickly. He shut the card up – later – and tore through the paper and opened the box.
"Hope you like it," Annie was saying anxiously. "I mean you can change it, you don't have to…it's just I saw it and I showed Saul and he thought…"
Rusty was looking down at a ring.
"It's not much," Annie said. "But I liked it and Saul said you were never about the obvious…"
Rusty picked it up carefully and stared at it. Silver. Thick-banded. Beautiful. Inside the ring, he could see the words, "…for the right reasons…" and suddenly, he was standing in a diner and he was full of misery and pride and self-disgust and anger. And a man was looking at him without wanting to use him, without wanting to hurt him, without well-meaning pity that he couldn't bear. And there was a way out being offered.
What if he hadn't taken it? What if he'd stayed with MacAvoy? What if he'd gone along to the flat in the evening as he had so many times before? What if he'd stood in the line-up and let the tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor choose him? What if he'd never left? What if he-
Somewhere he was aware of tears spilling over from Annie and disquiet in Saul's face and Danny, Danny watching and wordless and worried without ever showing it anywhere visible…
"Rus." Danny's hand was casually on his arm and he came back to himself and smiled briefly at Danny then turned to Saul and Annie.
"I don't have words. It's perfect. Thank you."
He slipped it on the ring finger of his right hand. It fitted flawlessly.
Lunch was roast beef followed by an enormous chocolate cake and Danny saw Rusty drink long and deep on the happiness in the room.
Saul and Annie. Just being in their presence was like being bathed in love and contentment. Danny's thoughts flicked back to Rusty's life before he'd somehow got out of it and found Saul and as always, conflicting emotions did battle: utter fury for the time of lonely agony and abuse and never-ending gratitude that Rusty had escaped and that he had had Saul and Annie to be with to heal.
Twenty-one. And all things bright and beautiful. Immeasurably loyal and immensely skilful and intellectually superb and Danny's only regret about meeting Rusty was that it hadn't happened sooner.
Lunch was over and he and Danny were packing.
"You know, Annie's forty this year."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Well, there's this painting she likes."
"You want to steal it for her?"
Rusty paused to consider the Turner hanging up in the lounge downstairs.
"No, no," he said regretfully, "I don't think Annie would wear it. But I thought London and the National Gallery and Covent Garden for the ballet. And Saul's fifty this year so I thought-"
"-the Derby?"
"Yeah."
"Mmm. Sounds a good plan. Speaking of London…" Danny held up two tickets.
"For me?" Rusty asked, a smile forming.
"Uh huh. How's your French?"
"We're going on to Paris?"
"Yeah. And you speak Italian, right?"
"Rome?"
And…
"Florence?"
And…
"Venice?"
"It's carnival time soon. Thought it might be fun. And there's a gallery we can take a look at if we get bored."
"A job?"
"Only if we get bored."
Europe. Chocolate and crepes and gelati and the con and Danny. It was a good present. It was the best present. Because it would never, never end.
A/N: Anyone wondering about the Barrowby brothers, their story can be found in "The Upper Hand".