Ship by InSilva
Summary: Rusty and Danny meet. On a yacht. Possibly Danny/Rusty if you squint a bit. :-) One-shot.
Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty. Not mine.
A/N: look, I just felt I owed him, OK?
Robert Charles Ryan, Rusty to his friends, applied another coating of suntan lotion to his already golden skin then rolled over and stretched out on the deck of the yacht, head resting on his hands, legs and chest bare, his modesty preserved in pristine, white trunks.
The Monaco coastline was on the horizon and he watched it lazily wash up and down. He planned a trip to the casino later that evening to kill some time and lose a little, win a little. Not that the trip would help. Rusty Ryan was young, rich, well-connected and bored as hell.
"Can you believe the exchange rate?" a shadow with a female voice fell across him and he sighed to himself.
"Honestly," Cordelia continued, "the dollar is so weak at the moment it's untrue."
He wondered what had possessed him to invite Cordelia Gibson-Porter along for the trip. It hadn't been for her less than sparkling personality and though, admittedly, she was incredibly easy on the eye, it hadn't been a ploy to get her into bed either. In fact, Rusty had amused himself for the past two weeks by avoiding sleeping with her. He flirted with her gently and left any heavy innuendo in her court; he danced with her politely, keeping just the right side of decorum when he held her; he kissed her goodnight on the cheek and was in general, the perfect gentleman: it was driving Cordelia crazy.
Cordelia flopped down beside him on the deck, her hands artistically brushing his.
"You want me to rub some oil in?" she asked hopefully.
"Just done it," he disappointed her.
Cordelia pulled her hair up the back of her head, exposing her neck. "You want to rub some into me?" she purred.
Rusty smiled. "Sure," he said and sat up and started to massage it into her shoulders, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud as she responded with orgasmic delight. He was bad. He really was. And he wasn't planning on changing any time soon.
"Cocktail, sir?"
Squinting up over his shades, Rusty saw a tray with a vodka Martini balanced on it, held by a member of the crew he didn't recognise. Cordelia forgotten, he wiped his hands on a towel, jumped to his feet and took the glass from the tray, staring at the dark-haired man.
"Thank you," Rusty said, sipping the drink.
"You're very welcome," came the reply and Rusty saw something in the dark eyes in front of him that he rarely saw: audacity. The man had no sense of deference; attached no importance to class; saw Rusty as an equal. Rusty loved it.
"You new on board?"
"Joined the ship yesterday. Sir." The appellation came as an afterthought and Rusty broke into a grin.
"Nice." The city.
"Yes." The dark eyes in front of him told him that it was, indeed, nice.
"What's your name?"
"Danny. Danny Ocean."
"Now that's a name that sounds like it's meant to run away to sea."
Danny smiled and Rusty liked the way it looked on his face. He reached up and pulled off his shades.
"They treating you OK?"
Danny's smile grew. "Treating me just fine."
"Sir!" This was from Cordelia who had got to her feet and was standing glaring at the pair of them.
"You don't have to call me 'sir'," Rusty corrected her.
"He-he-" Cordelia said, incoherent with rage.
"He doesn't have to either," Rusty said, looking straight at Danny. "He can call me Rusty."
"But he's just…he isn't…"
"Want to go ashore tonight? Hit the casino?"
Cordelia's incoherence died in a moment and she wrapped a long leg around Rusty's. "I'd love to."
"I'd love to." Danny spoke at the same time.
"Sorry, Cordelia," Rusty said, sounding anything but. "But you're not invited."
And both Danny and Rusty's eyes were alive with amusement.
Rusty was resplendent in a white suit and blue silk shirt and tie and raised an eyebrow at Danny's jeans and turtleneck.
"Hate to break it to you, Danny, but they aren't going to let you through the doors like that."
"Hate to break it to you, Rusty, but this is what I own."
Rusty frowned. Everything in his wardrobe was tailored to his body. There was nothing that was going to fit.
"We'll fix that tomorrow. Wait here. I'll go and change."
"You got anything that's going to possibly-"
"I got something," Rusty insisted.
Danny shook his head. "This, I have to see."
When Rusty returned in designer frayed jeans and a plain, white cotton shirt that cost more than the monthly wages of most of the crew, he found Danny deep in conversation with Cordelia. To be strictly accurate, Cordelia was doing most of the talking.
She had cornered Danny on the ship rails and was busy quizzing him on his life story.
"Was it very dreadful working your passage? When you had no money and you hadn't eaten for three days?"
Danny's eyes met Rusty's. "It was." And even though there were many levels of amusement going on – Cordelia, Rusty's idea of casual clothes, the tall tale itself, the situation generally – there was a hint of truth in there. Yet another layer of intrigue he needed to find out about.
The launch pulled up quayside, Danny jumping easily ashore. He reached down and held out a hand to help Rusty out of the boat. Rusty looked at the outstretched hand and shook his head with a small laugh, leaping as easily on to dry land as Danny had. They straightened up and smiled at each other.
"You want to grab a beer?" Danny suggested.
"I guess."
They found the nearest bar and Danny bought the drinks.
"You're not what I expected," he said, handing Rusty a bottle.
"What did you expect?"
Danny shrugged. "Spoiled, rich kid who wants his Martinis chilled to perfection."
"Oh, I hate to be pigeonholed."
"I can tell."
"But don't let them get to room temperature or I may have you thrown overboard."
Danny grinned. "You get everyone to do your dirty work?"
"Depends."
Danny's grin grew wider.
"You're not what I expected either," Rusty went on.
"What did you expect?"
"I wasn't expecting you."
They took simultaneous swigs of beer, their eyes never leaving each other.
"What are your plans?"
"Well, I was going to hitch a ride back to the States," Danny said. "Then I was heading for Vegas."
"Sounds like a plan."
"It was."
"Has it changed?"
"Depends."
And eyes on each other, they took another swig of beer.
They strolled through the streets of Monte Carlo, watching the world go by, talking on many levels as they did so. Danny learned that Rusty had gone through private education and Harvard, pushing the envelope to see what he could get away with. Rusty discovered that Danny had left home at sixteen and made his own way across the States and Europe, practising the con.
"Your life sounds dangerous," Rusty said.
"Yours sounds rich."
"Yours sounds richer."
They climbed back on the yacht, friendship more firmly embedded than when they had left.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
And for the first time on the trip, Rusty lay in bed and felt something was missing.
The next day, he ignored the looks from Cordelia and the crew and hauled Danny off to a tailor.
"Lots of suits. Whatever he looks good in. And make sure there's a tux."
"Certainly, sir," the tailor bowed.
Danny looked over at the seat where Rusty was lounging.
"You thinking of staying there throughout?"
Rusty grinned. "Maybe."
"You interested in seeing my body?"
"You interested in seeing mine?"
The tailor busied himself, scribbling down measurements and making sure he closed his ears.
Danny grinned. "After what I saw yesterday, there's not much left to find out about."
"Oh, believe me. There's plenty."
That evening, they sauntered into the casino and Danny initiated Rusty into the delights of separating a mark from his wallet and Rusty showed Danny he could pull his weight when it came to cards. They left the casino wealthier and Rusty just laughed all the way back to the yacht.
"You're staying with me tonight?"
"That a question or an invitation?"
Rusty grew serious. "I don't want to be on my own."
"Then you won't be."
And they both heard the words "ever again".
"You can't do this!" Cordelia had screamed the next day. "He only wants you for your money!"
"No, Cordelia, you only want me for my money." He tilted his head back and at Danny. "You after my boyish good looks and charm?"
"Every time."
Cordelia threw her hands up and stalked off to her cabin.
The yacht docked back in the States and Rusty simply walked away from it all.
"You're letting everything go?" And there was no doubt expressed, just a little wonder.
"It's only money, right?"
"Yeah."
Because both of them knew there were more important things out there.