A/N: Word tells me these are exactly 1000 words. Which makes me proud. 5 small moments... As usual, I want to thank otherhawk and InSilva for all the inspiration and apologise for not reviewing, but somehow I had to get this out of my head to think straight. Which might explain why I stayed up until 4:30 am to write this... meh.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. Aaaaargh.

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Lying and Stealing

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They met at an Indian exhibition in Chicago. It took Danny three minutes to realise that yes, they were there for the same reasons and Rusty two more to prove that no, that wasn't fully true, because the sweet Samosa pasties had also been part of his calculation.

After holding the gaze during the speech and the flute solo, some pasties and just a bit of chai vodka (and some more pasties), they decided to work together.

Danny went left, past the masks and women with tiger stoles, explaining to the collector that everything was taken care of, checking his reflection in the display cabinets, until he reached the aisle and knocked over what was left of the champagne glass pyramid.

Rusty watched Danny, security identification dangling around the neck, ruin his suit, then brushed off some non-existent dirt and headed for the flute that lay forgotten on the side of the stage while everyone else was gathering around the table in the adjoining room.

Twenty minutes later, Rusty arrived in the underground parking, where Danny had been waiting for exactly nineteen minutes.

"They were handing out free banana chip cakes," he said and Danny wasn't quite sure if he was apologising or wondering why Danny had left.

Flat share had seemed like a good idea at the time. Rusty had told him it would be easy and neat and other short adjectives that would just flow out of his mouth while opening the safe on 37th street.

And Danny had watched the quick fingers and the knitted eyebrows and said Yes.

It had been three weeks and Danny was convinced a certain point was reached when – for the second time – he found Rusty in his bed with a French brunette. But he didn't know which point, so just closed the door to his own room and sat on the sofa and watched nothing until, early in the morning, a giggling shadow left the apartment and Rusty came in and just looked at him.

Danny answered.

"I'm not mad. I'm not irritated."

Rusty's smile said Good and his eyes said Sorry. And for the fraction of a second, Danny found himself taken back to the underground parking and actually contemplating once again if he really was apologising or just wondering why…

"And I hope you're not really watching this."

Danny looked at the simulcast of a winetasting and shrugged and said "I don't mind, you know" and they could both hear the lie.

She had been nice and all smiles and he had been quiet and invisible, because this was serious and they both knew it. And when she had left, he sat down with Danny, the only person who didn't know, and who started talking immediately.

"Don't think she noticed the stains. Did she? And she almost forgot the flowers." His eyes opened, his hands flew up to his hair. "Did I make her laugh? I can't remember. She was laughing all the time. Is that good?"

Rusty pulled out the museum blueprints from under the sofa.

"I confused the painters, didn't I?"

"You didn't."

Which wasn't true and Danny scoffed.

"Some day, she'll hate me for that."

Rusty studied the dark figure, charm evaporating, eyes awake, fingers trembling and couldn't believe this man was worrying about flowers and stains. He closed his eyes.

"She loves you."

And Danny turned around and didn't know what to say. So he waited for Rusty to open his eyes again and he could see everything he didn't want to see.

"You know, it's not-"

"I know."

"And I won't-"

"Right."

"Right."

"It's understood that from time to time, men need to share time with their friends."

Rusty looked up the elevator shaft.

"Something tells me this is not the usual guys' night out, Danny."

In his bags were explosives and they had been planning to rob this place for a long time.

"It's not like we're going to a strip club." Danny held out his hand and pulled Rusty up. "And don't say…"

"I'm not."

Ever since he had heard Billy Joel sing The Night Is Still Young, the phrase didn't roll off his tongue as easily. And he knew Danny didn't know and didn't see the connection and he just smiled.

The artificial light of empty corridors awaited them and they found the door. Emptying the bags, Rusty's eyes wandered over to Danny's. They were slowly tracing the different cables, working out which way to combine them and connect them to hit the soft spots.

"Did I tell you about the …"

"Blond, black boots, heavy smoker?"

"Yeah."

It became quiet. Danny watched Rusty piecing everything together. Order and calmness surrounded every movement while he was working his way through bags of small boxes and pins, terminals and wires that all looked the same to Danny.

There were times when he didn't feel alive anymore. When time didn't matter. When he could recall every plan, every outline in his mind and when there were ways to fit all the information the others had given him into the picture.

It was his second night without sleep and he had emptied the espresso machine and the Coca Cola storage in the room. It was hard to tell in Vegas, but the sun seemed to send their first rays over the city.

His door was opened by something that surely wasn't a key and Danny stood there, hair a mess and stared at him.

"What's wrong?"

"You're still awake."

"What's wrong?"

"She looks good."

"Danny…"

But Danny just shook his head and leaned against the closed door and Rusty put away the pencil and looked him in the eyes.

"There's worse than being a thief, right?"

Rusty didn't answer.

"I don't lie. As much."

"It's not about that."

"Rusty…" And it sounded like everything Rusty didn't want to hear and he placed his hands on the blueprints in front of him.

"I need a pizza."

"It's 5am, Rus'."

"I need a pizza."

Danny smiled.