DannyandRusty by InSilva
Summary: What it says on the tin.
A/N: "…long story".
They weren't in love, they were in friendship. Definitely of a beautiful kind. Lines from other movies that could be said to apply? Danny in his more sentimental moments might have thought (never voiced, but thought) of "Jerry Maguire" and "You complete me": Rusty would have had the same words but from "Austin Powers".
As for the pace of how they lived their lives, well, when the con was on, "Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night" about had it. The thrill ride to end all thrill rides. The rollercoaster that started climbing and winding itself skywards with Danny's vision, that balanced precariously on the top until Rusty's practicality locked it into place and that plunged headlong up and down and round and back on itself; once started, never stopping; fast and furious.
Away from the con, life slowed, though the swagger of Gary Cooper, the debonair style of Cary Grant, the wry delivery of Bogart all remained. They enjoyed each other's company. When there were silences, they were never awkward. And when there was conversation, it was fizzing and whizzing, quick lines and rapid comeback, like a vocal gunfight; amusing to them and bemusing to others.
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
"Rusty Ryan."
"Danny Ocean."
"Danny…" Trying it on for size.
"Rusty?" With a twinkle.
"Robert. But…"
"Oh. Yeah. No. No. Definitely Rusty."
Years hence, they felt the connection they had as keenly as they did when they met; young and confident, wrapped in the armour of immortality that youth puts on.
When they'd first shook hands, when they'd first looked at each other, there was electricity; sparking through the handshake, eyes meeting, both knowing there was something, that this was something… Not understanding what, not then, but each sensing instinctively that somehow this person was special, this acquaintance was to be courted, this relationship was to be nurtured.
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
"Here."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"
"You could." A beat. "You will."
A grin. "I have."
It was apparent early on that their skills complemented each other. Rusty could not hope to dream as wide and as far as Danny; Danny could never see those dreams come true without Rusty's eyes. Yin to the Yang. Fitting together perfectly as no one had the right to, not a hair's breadth between them.
The early jobs were training grounds, partly to hone their skills, but mostly to develop the levels of communication that embedded themselves in them naturally. Half-sentences completed by the other. Thoughts not needing - never needing - to be expressed. Reading each other effortlessly. Everything summed up in a glance, a raised eyebrow, a twitch of the lips. The wavelength they operated on thrummed with vibrancy.
Their understanding jumpstarted the improvement in their techniques. They leapfrogged many fumbling stages of trial and error, moving from novices to experts in a very short timeframe. Their reputation grew. And they founded their partnership on a simple principle: to play the game as if they had nothing to lose. It let threats slide over them; it allowed them to dare; it made them strong because a man who has nothing to lose has everything to gain.
Except that, of course, if they stopped and thought about it, they did have something - someone - to lose. That was why they never stopped and thought about it. Because that way lay madness or at the very least, the false security that stagnation offered.
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you."
"You always take this long to get ready?"
"You shouldn't measure everyone by your own poor standards."
"Are you saying I look sloppy?"
"I'm saying I look good. And looking good is an art and you can't rush art."
"So you're saying I'm not an artist?"
"Oh, I know you're creative. Creativity is one of your two major talents."
"You going to name my other major talent?"
"Maybe later."
"Maybe now."
A significant exchange of looks.
"Well, it sure as shit ain't patience."
Partners, they called themselves. Partners, and each liked the sound of it, each liked the feeling that they had someone to take point, to look out for them, to cover for the other. Partner. It was only a word. And it meant the world.
And the world itself looked at them with a quizzical frown and a perplexed smile. It didn't – couldn't – understand them. It saw the looks and it heard the laugh in their voices and the closest it could come to categorising them was as lovers. As together together. As partners in that sense of the word. As men who found their satisfaction in each other's bodies. The world overlooked the satisfaction they found in each other's minds, in each other's souls.
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more."
"You seen the-"
"Here. Not…?"
"No, it rots the…" Exasperated amusement. "Don't you know anything?"
"I know nothing. Why would I know anything?"
"Why do you think I know?"
"You know why I think you know."
"Oh...oh, you are walking such a thin line. Next you'll be telling me you forgot-"
"Here."
"Huh." Mollified. "What flavour-"
"Chocolate."
"Good. So. You want to-"
"No! Maybe. Why, what do you…you want to…?"
A lazy half-grin. " I'm up for it."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Soulmate. The word that came closest to explaining them, the word that came closest to defining them, though defining them meant laying down boundaries, describing limits and really, they were about the infinite, about the inestimable, the inexpressible.
They themselves never worried about drilling down and analysing what made them operate so successfully: they were content that it happened at all and perhaps there was a hint of the superstitious in them that if they ever worked it out, ever pinned it down, it would stop working altogether.
Separately, they would have been successful: together, they soared. Danny and Rusty, make that DannyandRusty, found everything within their reach. They shouldn't be what they were together. They shouldn't exist as perfectly as they did. But they were; they did. And they could achieve the impossible.
If Danny ever thought about describing Rusty, he might have said he was chocolate and charm mixed up with the keenest of brains and exquisite elegance. Rusty, by return, could have explained Danny as vivid and vocal, presence and impact wrapped around genius as undiluted as the best neat malt ever.
If pushed to express their relationship, Danny might have mentioned the joy of being completely known; Rusty, hearing this, would have made a joke about Danny's soppy side and settled instead for Bogart and Bacall. With much subsequent discussion on who was who.
They intertwined and operated and existed and nothing could touch them. Oh, some things came close. Enforced separation through the inconvenience of being caught. An occasional encounter with someone who actually understood the root of their relationship and used that to their advantage. Even lovers who looked and saw and were jealous and knew how to hurt. But in the end, none of it mattered: they remained inviolate.
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt and then he wears it everyday."
"You do know that that does not go with that, don't you?"
"You questioning my style now?"
"I'm questioning your eyesight."
"Maybe I just want to annoy you."
"All these years? I wish I'd kept my mouth shut."
The totality of their bond found outlets in strange and many ways. It found Danny walking the streets of Baltimore at four in the morning searching out a specific flavour of Ben and Jerry's. It led to him drawing the fight out of a thug with crazy eyes who had first lit on Rusty and decided he would make an easy target.
It meant Rusty improvising soundproofing for a hotel room to ensure Danny's sleep was undisturbed after a particularly stressful heist. It prompted him to take on a well-connected, professional gambler at poker and humiliate him completely because the man had run off at the mouth at Danny in public. The protectiveness they felt was akin to self-defence.
They were in friendship.
Like they were in a royal flush or a double zero or a twenty-one.
Like they were in the dreaming, the planning, the execution and the exhilaration of a con.
Like they were in a faultless waltz through life, with synchronous and sinuous steps, each leading the other on.
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
"You awake?"
"Am now."
"You know what I'm thinking?"
"Sadly, yes. As always. And the answer is no."
"What if I begged?"
"No."
"What if I got naked and begged?"
A chuckle. "How would that help to convince me?"
"I can be very persuasive."
"I don't doubt. One day, I'll call your bluff." A pause. "How badly do you-"
"Badly."
"Is there even anywhere open this time of night?"
"Corner café."
A sigh. "Come on, then."
A scholar described the four loves: Danny and Rusty found a fifth. It transcended the physical, it astounded with its purity, it blinded with its innocence, it amazed with its depth. It was everything wrapped up in three words, two names, one concept.
They weren't in love; they were love: and it was unique and it was absolute and it was forever.
A/N: "Fasten your seatbelts…" is from "All About Eve". The little quotes in bold are from a circular email I received at work explaining how little kids define love. And I thought they were all great though my favourite is the first.
A/N: otherhawk, this could only be for you. And thank you for the suggestion. It was fun. :)