Tell Me

a.k.a Five times Rusty demanded Danny "tell him", and one time Danny actually did (sort of).

By LoveAnimeForever

1: No, I'm not jealous. I swear.

It started like this. Or rather, it nearly ended like this.

"Tell me this is not about her. Or I am walking. I am walking off this job right now."

"Who?"

"Tess. Terry Benedict. Tell me this is not about screwing the guy who's screwing your wife!"

"Ex-wife."

"Tell me."

"It's not about that."

Yeah, right.

"…It's not entirely about that."

See?

And that, in case no one noticed, was the first time in forever that they had a proper conversation. That is, without cutting each other's sentences short. Not that they didn't both know how this would turn out. It was like when they were younger, and Danny had that look in his eyes, crowing – proudly – that he was only saying what he was to appease him.

2: It actually started like this.

"Tell me!"

Danny sounded like an exasperated adult. "Tell you what, Rus?"

"How," the blond insisted, verging on incoherency in his frustration. "How you did that!"

A smirk tugged at the elder teen's lips. "What," he repeated the card trick, shuffling and revealing the ace of spades again. "This?"

Rusty glared at him. It failed, badly – maybe it had something to do with the chocolate at the edges of his mouth.

"I can teach you something better."

And that was how Rusty started pulling cons.

(But he never did learn how to do that card trick. He refused to ask, say, Frank, on a matter of principle. He would learn it from Danny. One day.)

3: When they were younger, and Danny –

"Oh. No. No way. Tell me you're not, Danny."

They were in their twenties, and a mysterious entity named "Tess" had just been introduced to the world Rusty knew as Danny-and-Rusty. Or Rusty-and-Danny. The order didn't much matter. Especially now, when Danny had just said he'd stop conning. For her. What. The. Hell?

The elder, also lither, also (surprisingly, though only slightly) shorter, smiled indulgently. "Alright, I'm not."

Lying, stealing, son of a bitch.

He couldn't stay away for long, though – thankfully. It was too much a part of him; a few months later, Rusty-and-Danny (or Danny-and-Rusty) were back on the streets, picking the pockets of three-piece suits. Breaking the hearts of rich blondes became Rusty's specialty, though. Danny had never shown that much of an inclination to it, anyway.

4: That one scarring event that ensured Danny never, ever pulled romance cons again. Otherwise known as, The Pink Chihuahua Con.

"Tell me you love me, Greg…"

Their target was a blonde, buxom, and rich. Not to mention, stupid, and with an annoying, high-pitched voice. She also had a (very – at least equally – annoying) Chihuahua, whose fur she'd dyed pink. Noisy, and an eyesore. Both. Of them. Rusty tried not to laugh, but in the end it'd just been a bad choice to let him hide in the closet when she suddenly burst in unannounced.

"Wh-what was that?"

After approximately five minutes of sitcom-worthy inappropriate laughter – on Rusty's part, after stumbling out of the closet – fish-mouthedly gasping – on the blonde's part – and Danny generally sitting on the bed, shirtless, with that cocky smirk on his face, their target stormed out of the room, muttering something about queers. She left her diamonds behind, as expected. Ah, success.

"Tell me you love me, Danny," Rusty simpered playfully, after they'd packed their stuff in preparation for their getaway in a few hours.

A punch to his face, lighter than they both knew Danny was capable of; Rusty didn't notice the moment's hesitation in between.

5: Thanks for the cookies. I didn't throw them out the moment I got them, really. They were actually quite decent.

"So, tell me."

"It's tricky. It's never been done before. It's going to need planning, and a large crew."

And this told Rusty… Absolutely nothing.

Admittedly, it did tell him Danny-and-Rusty (or Rus- oh, whatever) would be working together again, and that, alone, was a take he'd be happy to bet his life as a free man for. The fifteen million in cash was just a bonus.

0: Oh, so now you tell me.

"What were you and Tess-"

"Nothing."

"You didn't even let me finish my-"

"I don't have to."

"Arguing about?"

"Nothing."

"Out with-"

Danny rolled his eyes and wrenched his closest partner-in-crime in for a kiss.

When they broke for air, "You know, that's technically not telling me anything."

The elder, hair now dark silver – but elegant, not old – glared. He tried, at least. It wasn't often that the Daniel Ocean missed a glare, but maybe it had something to do with…