Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Ocean's 11.

A/N: For InSilva as requested. Of course she can't read it at the moment. There could be an argument that this is cruel and unusual.

Venice. The most romantic city in the world. Or at least Danny was pretty sure it would be if he wasn't here with Floyd Wetherby.

Floyd Wetherby did not inspire Danny to thoughts of romance. In fact, he was pretty sure that if he ever woke up one morning and decided that he was into guys, Floyd Wetherby would still be right down at the bottom of his list of potential partners. Danny had met a lot of extremely unpleasant people in his life, and Floyd Wetherby was most certainly one of them.

However, Floyd was a man just begging to have his money stolen away from him. With a personal fortune estimated to be nearly eight figures, a habit of boasting that he'd never made a bad investment and a reputation for financial ruthlessness – and for every kind of ruthlessness – he was exactly the sort of mark Danny liked. Impossible.

Act i

There are a thousand ways of ringing in a mark. Danny had it all planned out. The hotel lounge, The Wall Street Journal, the American voice in a sea of Italian, Simon Laker who shared Floyd's interests, background...all perfectly simple.

But the moment he walked in, cool and casual and supremely suave, was the exact moment that Floyd Wetherby chose to pop a plump red grape in his mouth and promptly start to choke to death.

For the briefest of seconds Danny just stood and stared blankly. This was on a new level of unexpected. Then, sanity kicked in, as Floyd started clawing desperately at his throat, his eyes shocked and bulging, and Danny ran across the room and tried thumping him on the back.

There was no noticeable result. Except, maybe, that Floyd turned a little purpler.

A couple of moments of frantic activity achieved nothing and Danny was pretty sure he was about to watch a man die.

The Heimlich Manoeuvre. He'd never tried it, but he knew the principles. And he'd definitely seen it on TV.

He quickly stepped behind Floyd, stepped in close and put his arms around him.

"Get off me, you fag," Floyd managed to wheeze.

Danny ignored him and got to work, and a second later the grape flew across the room. A second after that, Floyd Wetherby turned round and punched him in the mouth.

Rusty looked up from his apparently rapt perusal of the instructions on a trouser press when Danny walked into the room, holding an icepack to his face. "What...?"

Danny glared at him and considered not answering. "Heimlich Manoeuvre," he explained shortly.

"Oh." Rusty appeared to consider this. "I think maybe you were doing it wrong." He stood up and gently took the icepack out of Danny's hands, grimacing at what he saw.

"Floyd Wetherby is alive and well and having dinner with me tomorrow." And that was what mattered.

"Tomorrow?" Rusty raised an eyebrow and pressed the ice back to Danny's lip.

"Yeah," Danny agreed through a mouthful of cold. "We're gonna need to plant the info tonight. Is Livingston ready?"

"He will be," Rusty shrugged. "You think Floyd will make it through dinner without choking?"

Danny sighed. "Maybe he'll order soup," he suggested hopefully. "Ice cream. Anything that means I don't have to touch him again."

Act ii

When breaking into an office in the middle of the night having an inconspicuous getaway car is essential.

This was Venice. Their getaway car was a gondola. Danny wasn't sure he was altogether happy about that.

So far, things were going well. Livingston had taken care of the surveillance system remotely. Danny had found the code to the alarm exactly where Toni had told him it would be. They'd made their way to Floyd Wetherby's office. Rusty had started up the computer and was installing Livingston's little program which – apparently – was working exactly the way it should be.

Everything was going off without a hitch. Tomorrow, when Floyd Wetherby checked the markets, they'd be able to upload information about Walker Holdings. Perfect.

And that was about when they heard the footsteps coming down the corridor.

"Security guard?" he hissed.

"There isn't one," Rusty reminded him. "Must be someone working late."

Not that it really mattered. Getting caught by anyone was very much not part of the plan. "We nearly done?"

Rusty was staring at the screen. "Almost...almost...there." He pulled the disk out and started shutting the computer down.

Danny reached over and turned the monitor off. "We can't go – "

" – yeah. Window." Rusty agreed.

"There's water out there," Danny pointed out. Quite a lot of water, in fact.

"Ledge," Rusty told him shortly. "Should be able to reach the boat from there."

Danny looked out the window doubtfully. Yeah, there was a ledge alright... "It's kind of narrow," he said slowly.

Rusty pushed the window open and leapt out gracefully. "The ledge isn't narrow, your feet are too big." He inched along carefully.

Grimacing, Danny followed him. "You want me to remind you what they say about guys with big feet?" he asked as he pulled the window shut behind them.

"Oh, it's not true," Rusty assured him. "I made a study in high school."

Danny laughed unexpectedly and found himself having to grab the wall to stop himself from falling in the canal.

"I swear, you fall in, I'm not pulling you out," Rusty told him.

"I'm fine," Danny said.

They inched their way along the ledge. They'd left the gondola round the corner. The way they'd been planning on leaving in the first place.

"There," Danny said, sighing in relief when they spotted it.

Rusty climbed in and moved along to the back. Danny followed.

"You got the pole thing?" he checked.

"No, I think it's on the side," Rusty answered absently, frowning at a knot of ropes.

"Right." Danny stood up and went to fetch it. As he put his foot up on the side of the boat, the whole thing started rocking just a lot more than he'd expect.

Rusty looked up in alarm. "What are you – " he began. He didn't finish his sentence. Not because Danny interrupted him.

The gondola capsized gracefully.

The canals of Venice were warmer than Danny would've expected. They also tasted fucking awful.

He swam to the surface and looked round for Rusty.

Rusty was looking straight at him. "Don't stand on the side of the boat," he advised levelly.

Danny nodded. "I'll remember that in future." He glanced round. On a nearby bridge there were quite a lot of people staring at them. "You wanted to see the canals," he pointed out.

"Not from this close."

Act iii

The restaurant was large and crowded and candlelit. The wine was delicious, the food was out of this world and the company was among the worst Danny had ever experienced.

Floyd Wetherby had no redeeming features that Danny had managed to discover. All of his conversation seemed to be about people he'd screwed over and lives he'd destroyed. And that was only when he wasn't complaining about Venice being so full of damned Italians. And with every objectionable word that fell out of his mouth, Danny was having to smile and agree. For every unpleasant story he heard, Danny was having to tell two.

He could only be glad that the evening was coming to an end. Which left him at the point of being able to drop in the information that they actually wanted Floyd to have.

"Yeah, this guy's a real moron," he said, laughing and waving his dessert spoon emphatically. "Donald Walker of Walker Holdings. Owns a controlling interest in the company except, get this. He's bored of it. Looking to sell." He snorted. "Stupid bastard doesn't know that Seko International are going under. In two weeks, his stock price is going to be through the roof. And I'm buying all his shares for peanuts."

Floyd wasn't listening. Floyd actually wasn't listening. He was staring at the next table with an angry frown.

Cursing to himself, Danny turned to see what was so upsetting. The young couple at the next table were just getting settled in. Tourists, Danny would bet. A romantic weekend. Two wide-eyed young boys, holding hands and looking like they hardly dared believe they were actually in Venice together.

Floyd was looking thunderous. "What the fuck is this?" he said, turning back to Danny. "Can you believe this shit?"

Danny blinked and tried to summon up the appropriate reaction. The reaction that Simon Laker would have. He scowled. "Right," he agreed in a low voice. "Disgusting." The words left a bad taste in his mouth.

But Floyd wasn't talking quietly and people were turning their heads to stare. "I don't believe that they sat those fags next to us!"

Danny could see the boys at the next table. Could see the way they'd paled, the way they weren't looking, the way they were scared. Could see the romantic moment dying amidst the hate.

The manager was hurrying over, and Floyd was still yelling, and everyone in the restaurant was staring at them now, was seeing Floyd and Danny with him, and Danny's fists were clenched and he wanted to stand up and tell Floyd exactly what he was.

His phone rang.

"Knock knock," Rusty's voice was calm. Oh, yeah. Rusty and Livingston were watching. They'd wanted to be sure that Floyd checked his briefcase for the information on Walker Holdings.

"This isn't really a good time," he said, glancing back at Floyd who was threatening the manager with God knew what.

"Uh huh," Rusty said cheerfully. "I think it is. Besides. You'll like this one."

"Well, judging from experience, I doubt that," he answered instantly and he was a little calmer now, a little less likely to commit murder over coffee.

"Knock knock," Rusty said again.

"You know the answer to that," he said with a smile that Rusty would be able to hear.

"Deduct."

"The usual response," he managed.

"Donald Deduct."

He managed to avoid groaning. Just. Oh, that was awful.

"You okay?" Rusty asked abruptly.

"Got it covered," he promised and he hung up.

When he turned back to the table, the manager was ushering the two boys out of the restaurant and Floyd was looking smug and self-satisfied. "Ordinary, decent people win again," he said with a laugh. "I fucking hate fags."

"Yeah," Danny agreed easily, ignoring the disgusted looks and contemptuous mutterings from all around them. "Me too."

"Now, what were you saying?" Floyd went on cheerfully.

"Oh, yeah." Danny grinned. "Donald Walker."

Act iv

Right at this moment Rusty, in the form of Donald Walker was meeting Floyd Wetherby, who had been only too delighted to go behind his new friend's back and make a cash deal for Walker Holdings. A cool half million dollars. Not bad.

But, it was widely rumoured that Floyd didn't travel anywhere without his lucky charm; an antique pistol alleged to have once been owned by General Ulysses S Grant. Priceless. And after the week he'd had, Danny was pretty sure they were entitled to it.

So, while they knew exactly where Donald Walker was, Danny had taken the opportunity to lift the hotel masterkey and go looking in the hotel room. Which left Livingston monitoring both him and Rusty. He'd sounded a little panicked about that.

He'd just lifted the pistol out of the room safe when his phone vibrated. He answered it quickly. "Danny!" Livingston. Sounding anxious. "Floyd just left!"

"He didn't go for the deal?" Danny asked incredulously. He'd have sworn they had him.

"Oh, he went for it," Livingston assured him. "Practically threw the money at Rusty. But he wouldn't stay."

"Right. Well I'm done here anyway, so – "

" - You've got people coming down the corridor towards you!" Livingston told him.

"Floyd?" he checked.

"No, it's three women," Livingston told him.

"Well, they won't be coming in here," he pointed out. "So I'll just wait until – "

The door opened.

Danny found himself staring at three beautiful women dressed in trenchcoats.

"Floyd Wetherby?" the first one murmured in a smouldering voice. "You've been a very naughty boy."

As Danny watched and the door closed, they all let the trenchcoats drop off their shoulders, revealing leather harnesses and....his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Oh. Oh, he was seriously out of his depth here.

"Uh, I'm not – "

"Silence, worm!" the blonde shouted imperiously, and she pulled a whip from out of nowhere and cracked it at him. "You will strip for us! Now!"

Danny didn't even bother thinking. He just ran. He didn't think he'd ever managed to get a door open faster.

When he was three floors down and seriously out of breath, he realised he was still holding his phone.

"What just happened?" Livingston asked.

He shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it. Ever."

Act v

They were leaving first thing in the morning. Danny had gone back to the hotel to get a couple of hours sleep while Rusty and Livingston dismantled all their equipment in the flat opposite.

He was somewhat surprised when he woke up to someone kicking his door open at one o'clock in the morning. Floyd Wetherby and a couple of large, serious-looking men. Huh. He honestly hadn't expected Floyd to figure out he'd been conned so quick. Surprising.

Of course, he wasn't nearly surprised enough to hesitate before he leapt out of bed and ran for the window. Second floor. And there was a balcony and just below it was the awning on the front of the hotel, and it all looked sturdy enough.

He jumped.

There was a moment when it felt like he was hanging in the air, and he really had to consider whether this was such a good idea, and he could hear the yells from below from all the people who hadn't been expecting to see a man in his boxers jumping off a balcony.

He hit the awning and slid down, and landed next to the shocked-looking doorman and a crowd of Japanese tourists, all of whom seemed to be pointing cameras at him.

He straightened up. "Apparently the lady doesn't love Milk Tray that much," he explained urbanely, and he chanced a look back up to his window, and Floyd and his friends were staring, but apparently they weren't inclined to jump after them. And, looking up, Danny could see why. That was high. You'd have to be crazy to try that.

Still, it could only be a matter of time before they thought of the stairs, and in the meantime he was getting cold and getting his picture taken, and really, running was the only sensible course of action here.

He ran.

People squealed and jumped out of his way and he did his best to look like he did this sort of thing every day of his life and that he absolutely could not hear any of the admiring comments coming his way. Or the wolfwhistles. Or the...hell, that traffic warden had just tried to grope him!

Okay. The guesthouse was just on the other side of this square. He didn't think he could face going in the front. Actually, he thought he'd probably be arrested if he tried. If he remember right the window should be just round the corner here. He grabbed a bunch of flowers from a window box in passing. If he was going to do this he might as well look the part. Especially since there was no guarantee he was going to get the right window.

He threw a handful of pebbles up at a window and a moment later an elderly Italian lady was frowning down at him. A second later and she was screaming.

"Scusi," he smiled ingratiatingly. "Wrong window."

"Do I want to know?" Rusty's voice came from a couple of windows down, and Danny turned round thankfully and held the flowers out beseechingly.

"Save me!" he said dramatically.

He could hear Livingston laughing, and then Rusty held his hand out and helped Danny scramble inside.

"Floyd knows," he said, as he collapsed on the floor and closed his eyes.

"He caught you with your pants down, huh?" Rusty said cheerfully.

"We're all ready to get out of here," Livingston said hastily, a second before Danny could fully express his thanks for Rusty's unwavering sympathy and support.

"Good," he said, propping himself up on his elbow and opening his eyes. Then he paused. Because he wasn't the only mostly-naked man in the room. Livingston was only wearing a robe. Rusty wasn't even wearing that. "Really?"

Rusty shrugged. "Venice is the most romantic city in the world," he explained.

Danny sighed and lay back. "So I've heard." He stared up at the ceiling. "You really don't want to know what I'd do for a pair of pants right now."

A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the story.