A/N: Totally different from anything I've done before, and completely AU. I don't know if this is going to be a full story or just a series of snippets in this universe, but let me know if you all want to see more from these versions of A & A!

"Love is not love

which alters when it alteration finds,

or bends with the remover to remove..."

Sonnet 116, Shakespeare

"You know I value your judgment, Mr. Narts, but I'm not taking a partner."

Austin Moon sprawls back into his chair, glaring at his boss over the mahogany desk. He's been working with Nelson Narts for almost a year now, and he has never questioned the man until now. Since his first job (a Monet, the Met, two paperclips and a Golden Retriever puppy), he's always done field work alone. Really, with the exception of Dez, his inscrutably brilliant tech of a best friend, he's done everything alone. And he likes it that way. Nelson had been his only failed job; he'd broken into Narts house to steal a Van Gogh. It was supposed to be easy, an in and out lift, but instead Austin'd found a note in the frame with a time, a place, and his social security number. He and Dez had been about to leave the country, when Austin's curiosity got the best of him. And the rest was history: Narts, a man of near-unlimited financial means, was the mastermind behind a network of thieves and spies that dispensed its own brand of Robin Hood, vigilante justice. People who worked for Narts were generally the best in their field, not quite law-abiding, and often loners. And Austin Moon is exactly that. He's a spectacular grifter and an even better thief, but acting the part doesn't mean he actually likes being social. It just gets the job done. And the job never ever involves a field partner.

"I don't know if you misheard me, but you don't have a choice, Moon."

"With Dez running tech for me, I don't need anyone else. Plus, she's new. Untrained. She won't be able to keep up." Austin protests, waving a hand in the direction of the petite brunette glaring at him from the other chair. He settles back into his chair as Nelson Narts motions him to sit.

"Ally's one of the brightest people I've ever met. Plus, she's better with the subtlety than you, Moon." Nelson shuffles the paper on his desk as he looks directly at Austin. "You'll need that on this job."

"All due respect, boss, this is just a retrieval case. The grift's one I've done a million times. Suits and champagne and hobnobbing, then find his office, find proof of embezzlement for his suspicious daughter, then drop a bug in the files. Wham, bam, done."

Nelson opens his mouth to reply when Ally starts speaking.

"Jimmy Starr is a key player in a billion dollar industry. His offices have round the clock security, and his house has even more. And he's notorious for his attachment to the tangible." Austin turns around at her voice, startled, as Ally continues quietly. "This guy is old-school. He does all his accounts on paper, and checks over everything that leaves his desk personally. His connections through the music business are incredibly far-reaching; he's meticulous, careful, and incredibly thorough. He doesn't trust anyone but family, and it's going to be next to impossible to catch him off guard. This party, for Starr Records' birthday? It's the only time during the year that Starr opens his house to guests. The place is going to be crawling with security and only two hundred people are invited. You won't be able to break into his office, crack the safe, and strip his computer without Starr getting suspicious about a missing guest."

Austin blinks at the flood of information, focusing on Ally's face for the first time in the past ten minutes that they've been sitting in Narts' office together. At initial glance, Austin had dismissed her as straitlaced and unassuming: slim and petite, hair pulled back into a sleek, chestnut ponytail, a lilting voice and delicate features, nothing particularly memorable. He does a double take as he meets her eyes for the first time. They are a gilt-edged brown, steady and unreadable, and the clarity of her gaze unnerves him to silence.

The girl in question raises an eyebrow at the nonplussed expression on Austin's face. "It was all in Starr's file." She nods at Nelson. "I apologize for interrupting, Mr. Narts."

The man in question waves a hand in her direction before focusing on Austin. "She's right. Kira Starr came to us because she was worried about her father taking money from company accounts; all she needs is proof. Starr Records is a multibillion dollar corporation. The case is too important to take a risk on you alone, Austin. You may be one of the best thieves I've ever met, but Dawson's combat-trained and a damn good covert operative. She'll cover your ass if and when you need it. And you'll cover hers. Got it?"

Austin's jaw clenches for a moment before he nods once. "Fine."

"Glad you're so reasonable, Moon." Nelson says dryly, pushing his chair back to stand. He meets both their eyes as he leaves, dropping two files on the desk on his way out the door. "Play nice, kids."

Ally sighs as she straps on a thigh holster. The dress she's wearing is gorgeous: burgundy silk, off-the-shoulder draping, floor-sweeping skirts with artfully constructed slits to access her weaponry. Her hair is swept off her shoulders in a loose twist and the opal-studded clip holding it up actually contains the software that is meant to let her bypass Starr's multiple firewalls. She knows she's prepared; but there's something about elaborate grifts that have always thrown her off. Ally's been a good liar her entire life: with both parents in the CIA, it was practically ingrained in her childhood.

She spent most of her life in and out of operative training classes, and she's been proficient in hand-to-hand combat since her early teens. But she hasn't seen her parents in five years: not since their divorce, not since she ran away from home, not since she found her way to Narts and spent her college years "reaching her potential" to become the kind of person that her parents had dedicated their lives to putting in prison. She doesn't regret it: she'd never been particularly close to her parents, and for a long time, she felt like the CIA held sole responsibility for ripping apart her family. Now she knows differently, but the work she does with Nelson Narts' organization makes her feel fulfilled for the first time in her life. She prefers the cases where she gets to be Ally Dawson, though: even if she has to bump a few heads together, she's always preferred a quick and clean fight, rather than pretending to be someone she's not, at a party she hates.

Admittedly, it's also throwing her off to be working with Austin Moon. For someone who looks like the next Hollywood heartthrob, he's surprisingly withdrawn. She knows who he is, of course: almost everyone in their line of work does. Austin's one of the rare prodigies; born to a suburban family (his parents owned a mattress business, or so Ally had heard), raised in sunny Miami beaches with every appearance of normality. Then he dropped off the grid for a few years, before reappearing on the radar with his partner Dez, a bewilderingly good hacker in his own right. No one knows why he chose this life, or where his talent came from: though there are stories, of course. Ally's heard a few about the mattress business being a cover for mob connections, or childhood participation in a government project gone bad, in one memorable rumor, that he's Al Capone's grandson. Ally thinks he was just brilliant and bored: a dangerous combination, she knows firsthand.

She's startled out of her thoughts when the door behind her creaks open. She whirls around and drops into a crouch before she recognizes the blond hair and broad shoulders of her new partner.

"There's this new thing called knocking. It's really quite useful. Lets people know that you're coming in." She says, returning to studiously sharpening her bracelet's knife attachment. There's a long silence, and she clicks the knife back into place just as Austin finally speaks.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior in Nelson's office."

"Oh good. You're not a total butthead."

"Did you just call me a butthead?"

"Well yeah, you were acting like one." Ally shrugs as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Okay, fair point." Austin concedes, and Ally tilts her head thoughtfully. She'd thought that she had Austin pegged, but his easy acceptance of her criticism isn't quite what she'd expected.

"I understand that you don't want a partner. I didn't particularly want one either. But this is a job."

"And I get that. I just don't like working with people because they can't keep up. No offense." Austin's voice is frustrated, and Ally swallows her first defensive response in favor of something a little more neutral.

"Careful. Your ego is showing again." Ally she says wryly, as she finishes sliding the last knife into its holster, resettling her skirts around her. Okay, not that neutral.

"Not that you're not good at what you do. I'm sure you are." He shrugs. "I'm just better. You're trained for combat, for knives and fights and there's merit to that. But playing a role for a job takes a lot more finesse than fighting. You definitely look the part; but you're not forward or aggressive enough for the social-climber that you're supposed to be. If you need any pointers about selling the image-" Austin pauses as Ally steps closer to him.

Sooty lashes brush against her cheeks as she looks down. After a moment, she glances up at him from under her eyelashes, winding slim fingers around the lapel of his jacket. She takes a step closer as she speaks, voice sultry.

"I'm sure I could use any advice you have for me, Mr. Moon."

She hardly expects the arch of his brow and the surprised chuckle, but he catches her completely off guard when he curls his hand around hers and deftly spins her into a low dip.

"Not bad, Dawson. I stand corrected." Her arm flails as she loses her balance while standing, and Austin's hand tightens around her waist until she's safely upright. "Passable."

She looks at him sharply. "Passable? Check your jacket, Moon."

A grin spreads across his face as he nods silently in the direction of her hip. Ally looks down to see the tiny communications device she'd planted on his lapel, hidden instead in the folds of her skirt.

"Pulling closer was good; drew the focus to your face, not your hands. But the lapel? Too easy." Austin's voice is smugly self-satisfied. He winks at Ally, standing stunned with the device in her palm, then turns to walk away. "I'll meet you at the car in fifteen minutes. Remember Dawson, it's not amateur hour." He quips, pulling his sunglasses back on as he leaves. He's ten steps out the door, mentally patting himself on the back and thinking that teasing Ally Dawson could be surprisingly fun, when he hears a crackling noise coming from his left side. He reaches up to the left arm of his sunglasses, fingers making contact with something small and metallic.

"You're a thief, Moon. You should know better than anyone; never trust a damsel in distress." The static of the speakers can't disguise the amusement in Ally's voice. "Especially not one trained to take you out in four seconds." She pauses. "With finesse."

"Touche, Dawson. That was mildly impressive." It's only years of acting that let Austin successfully disguise surprise with indifference.

Ally laughs. "One more thing."

"Your wish is my command." Austin replies dryly.

"I'm driving."

The line clicks shut and Austin finds himself smiling as he slips the device from his ear. He's not used to being thrown off his game, and he'd be lying if he said that Ally Dawson didn't fascinate him.

Thanks for reading guys! Please let me know what you think; I know Austin's a little bit cranky and Ally's a little bit fiesty, but I hope at the very least that they're still fun to read!