A/N: To cornychet: Sorry, I prefer to reply to people directly, but as you're not logged in, I'm afraid I couldn't do that here.
I have to admit, when I read your review my first thought was "But there isn't any discussion of corporal punishment in this story, and Danny certainly has no opinion on it – he only cares about what happens to Rusty, and that's child abuse, not corporal punishment." But then I read your review again, and yes, by the definitions you give, everything Rusty's parents do to him would be acceptable and justified corporal punishment, not abuse. Certainly there is never any intention to harm him in a permanent fashion.
I would disagree with those definitions, as I think there is a line and Rusty's parents cross it and abuse him, but you're perfectly entitled to your opinion, obviously. And while Danny might never use the word abuse, bearing in mind the time and place this story is set, he'd be familiar with corporal punishment as normally practiced, and he sees what Rusty's parents do to him as going beyond that.
But even accepting those definitions, I have to admit, I'm then not exactly sure what you want from the story? You say that they should be living by their parents rules, but – Linus aside – I don't think that people who break societies rules to the extent that they choose 'professional con artist' as a career are exactly likely to have stuck to the rules as kids. And in the context of this story, if they obeyed their parents rules while living under their roof – or as much as possible anyway, bearing in mind that they both have rules which are physically impossible to follow, such as 'Be good at piano without ever practicing' or 'Don't let your mother leave me' – then they would never have met, as Danny wouldn't have been moved from his old school. In fact, he'd probably have grown up to work in some job he didn't care about, marry a girl just like his mother, and cheat on her with anyone and everyone as he tried his hardest to use sex to fill up the empty places in his life, because he never learned how to express or accept love and affection. And Rusty, obviously, would have died age seven, unloved and unmourned, when he obeyed the rules by standing still while his mother stabbed a knife through his eyes – even if it didn't go straight through and pierce his brain, and even if she didn't go on to stab him multiple times, shock and infection would have set in without medical attention long before his father came home. Obviously I know that's not what you would want to see happen, but my point is, if you're happy that they disobey the rules to that extent, why does it bother you that Danny also disobeys the rules by not wanting Rusty to be hurt?
And if your point is that they can disobey the rules but Danny should just accept what happens to Rusty as the inevitable consequence of that...well, I think it takes a special sort of mind to see the person you love most in the world terrified, traumatised and in agony, knowing that it's going to continue on with no end in sight, and decide that this is morally right and the way things are supposed to be. Whether that's objectively the case or not, Danny simply doesn't have the ability to detach himself in that way.
As for the football thing...yes, in this story, Danny isn't into sports. He also doesn't care for classical music, shop class or mushrooms. *shrug* As in real life, fictional characters are not going to like everything you like. Sorry, but it's only realistic. A fictional character who liked everything would almost certainly wind up looking like a colossal Mary Sue. And in this case, as well as the nod to O12, the football thing was to point out that they still have so much to learn. Because an older Danny would have learnt all the rules to play his part for the con.
Sorry, this turned out to be something of an essay. *shrug*
A/N2: As always, thanks to InSilva for reading and for helping me improve. Mate, you make me a better writer. :)
Timeline:
1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine
4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.
5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
6. 'Fishing Trip' (Chapter 47) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven
7. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
8. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
9. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
10. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
11. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
12. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
13. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
14. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
15. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen
16. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
17. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
18. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
19. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
20. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
21. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
22. 'Stocking, Glitter, Snow' (Chapter 46) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
23. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
24. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
25. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
26. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
27. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
28. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
29. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
30. 'Crooked Game' (Chapter 48) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
31. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
And sequels after they move away!
'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17
'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'
'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19
'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'
'Stockings, Glitter, Snow' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'
'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20
'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20
'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.
'Reconstruction' - set after movies.
The school was completely dark and still. Blake looked up at it for a long moment. "You sure this is the place?" he asked, sounding just a little more apprehensive than he'd like.
"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "It looks pretty dead."
John, their guide, laughed. "Course it does," he said. "You really want to break in some place while all the lights are on? I thought you said you'd done this sort of thing before."
"Oh, yeah, loads of times," he lied automatically, and he heard the others muttering agreement behind him. They all talked big, and he'd impressed John earlier by describing the time he'd robbed a liquor store – but the truth was, he'd shoplifted some beef jerky. Which was totally the same thing.
But John really did seem to be for real. They'd met him while they were being thrown out of the store down the block from Uncle Ralph's house for the third time in three days. John had been stood outside, drinking out of a hipflask, cigarette in hand, and when they'd gone up to mooch a few smokes, they'd got to talking, and he'd told them he was heading round to break into the high school for a poker game.
It sounded amazing. Booze, cigarettes, gambling – all it needed was for some tail to show up, and it would just about make up for their spring break plans falling through so badly that they wound up staying at his stupid aunt and uncles's house in this no-mark town. At any rate, it beat another night in, playing board games with his aunt and his whiny loser cousin, Doug.
Fortunately John had been happy enough to take the three of them along, though he'd warned that it would be some guy named Nick's decision whether they could play or not.
"Alright," John hissed, leading them round the building to the side entrance. "This door will have been left unlocked by the guys."
That made the actual breaking in part a lot easier. He'd been imagining they'd have to break a window or some shit like that. No matter what though, the thrill of creeping into the dark hallway set his heart pounding, and he grinned over his shoulder back at Dean and Chuck. This was more like it.
John led them a twisting route through the pitch-black corridors and stairs, and they had no choice but to follow his flashlight, with no real idea where they were going. Finally they stopped and John pushed open the classroom door slowly.
There were four boys already there, three of them sitting in a circle round a few desks that had been hurriedly pushed together, bottles of beer, cards, money and cigarettes laid out in front of them. Two of them looked young – probably went to this high school, and Blake dismissed them in his mind. The third though...he had dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a leather jacket and a pencil thin moustache, and when he fixed his gaze on Blake, he could feel the tension in the room spike.
"What's this, John?" the boy asked mildly. "You bringing in new people without my say so now?"
"This is Blake Fletcher," John introdcued them. "And his friends, Chuck and Dean. I met them this afternoon. They seem cool enough. Guys, this is Nick."
"Uh huh. You got cash, kids?" Nick asked. "Cos if you don't have money, there's no point you being here."
With a shuffling of feet, they each produced a stack of bills. They had the money they'd saved up for spring break, plus everything they'd managed to muscle out of his stupid cousin and his friends the other day. They'd been whining about how they needed the cash to start a band. Fucking idiots. Still, it made for a tidy sum, and they were going to add to it tonight. Nick aside, these high schoolers had probably never played a game of poker in their lives.
Nick smiled suddenly and Blake found it impossible to avoid smiling back. "That'll do nicely," he said. "Come in. Sit down, let the brat get you a beer. Hey! Brat!" He raised his voice sharply and turned to confront the fourth person in the room, the one Blake had barely even glanced at.
It was a blond boy who had to be thirteen at most, dressed in a boy scout's uniform, lying on his stomach, reading a Captain America comic and kicking his legs against the wall. He looked up, blinking nervously when Nick yelled. "Uh, yeah?"
"Go get some beers," Nick ordered.
The boy was on his feet immediately, hurrying to the corner of the classroom and opening a large fridge where, rested in amongst test tubes and bottles of chemicals, there was a couple of crates of beer. Wow.
They sat down in the empty seats opposite Nick.
"What's with the kid?" Chuck asked curiously.
Nick rolled his eyes. "My stupid baby brother," he complained. "I had to pick him up after scouts, and I'm stuck with him till tomorrow."
"That's rough," he said sympathetically. "I can relate. We have to stay with my aunt and uncle this week, and they keep making us take my cousin everywhere. Little fucker doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut either. Got so bad we wound up locking him in the garage for a few hours just so we'd leave us alone."
"Really," Nick said appreciatively, his eyes dark and cold, and Blake figured he was probably imagining doing the same to his little brother. It wasn't like he was proud of what they'd done to his cousin, but he was just so annoying. Three years ago, he'd been quite happy to hang around with him every time he stayed with Uncle Ralph, but now he was in college, now he was with his friends – well, the whole idea was just humiliating.
The brat looked nervous when he walked back to the table, his arms laden down with beer for all of them, and he jumped about a foot in the air when Chuck jokingly lunged at him, snapping his fingers in the brat's face. One of the beer bottles went slipping out of his fingers, and he only just managed to catch it again. He looked across the table at Nick, his eyes wide, and for what seemed like an uncomfortably long second, the two just stared at each other.
"Sorry," the brat whispered at last softly.
"Yeah, well, just fucking be careful," Nick grunted dismissively and the brat nodded and quickly crept back to his corner directly behind Blake, Chuck and Dean. "Alright," Nick began, drawing the cards into his hands and starting to shuffle. "The game is Texas Hold Em. I take it we all know how to play?"
"Yeah," he nodded eagerly, and Chuck and Dean echoed his words a second later. They'd played in college a few times. He knew what he was doing – he had no doubt that between them they'd send those highschoolers away crying.
"Okay then," Nick said as he started to deal. "We'll start with a five dollar minimum bet. Ante up, guys."
He looked down at the cards in his hands and smiled to himself. Oh, this was going to be good!
Just like he'd expected, the two kids didn't last long. They were out of the game before he'd even actually managed to learn their names, and most of their money was lying on the table in front of him. Chuck and Nick were up some too, though Dean and John were both down. That was the fortunes of war though.
Luckily, the two didn't hang around once they were out, just grabbing an extra beer and heading for the door. He had to figure they were probably mostly just there for the booze, and he rolled his eyes contemptuously at the thought. Served them right.
Poker was serious business and he really didn't need the distraction. Bad enough that the brat behind him kept talking, no matter how often Nick told him to shut his fucking mouth.
They'd been doing most of the talking though. Sharing all the best jokes and stories, and John had laughed along with them, while Nick cut in with the occasional quiet, hilarious comment. There was just something about him though. He was cool and collected and distant. Anytime he said anything, everyone listened, and anytime he wasn't talking they were trying to impress him, trying to make him laugh.
But mostly they were trying to win.
He looked down at the table. Face cards were the Jack of Clubs and the Eight of Diamonds. And Chuck was just dealing him his last card. Jack of Diamonds, Jack of Hearts and the Two of Hearts. That gave him three of a kind. Time to bet big.
"Oh, I heard this joke today!" the brat announced suddenly, just as Blake was about to raise. "Three one eyed men walk into an empty bar and - "
" - shut it," Nick snapped absently, without even looking up. "Okay, I'm folding. This hand isn't worth shit."
He smirked. Okay then. Now he just had to take out the others too. "Brat, get me another beer," he ordered, and he laughed, listening to the scrabbling behind him as the brat rushed to obey. "Stupid kid." This would be his fifth beer of the night, and already he had a pleasant buzz on. He didn't know where it had came from, but no one seemed to have a problem with him drinking as much as he wanted. "I'll raise thirty," he announced loudly.
Nick's hand was flat on the table and his knuckles were white. He laughed again. Not his problem if the guy folded before the hand really got going. He lit a cigarette as Dean folded too, and Chuck and John pondered whether to call or not.
The brat appeared silently at his elbow, laying the beer down on the table in front of him. He turned and blew smoke in the brat's face, leaving him coughing and spluttering. "Sorry," he said insincerely.
"Leave him alone!" John snarled, leaning back in his chair like he was ready to leap to his feet.
"Oh, come on, I'm not hurting him," he said, rolling his eyes across the table at Nick conspiratorially. Nick smiled back across the table at him, all his teeth showing, but he didn't say anything. "You're not hurt, are you, brat?"
The brat shook his head silently and, amused, Blake reached up and grabbed the brat by his stupid boy scout uniform, stubbing his cigarette out on his woggle.
"Stop that," John burst out, turning across the table to appeal to Nick. "Da - "
" - ow!" the brat squealed suddenly, even Blake was absolutely certain that none of the ash had so much as touched him. He jumped, knocking into the table and stumbling slightly, ending up grabbing Nick's shoulder for support and for a second it looked like he was squeezing, holding on longer than he had to, and then Nick grabbed his hand and shoved it to the side.
"Go get me another beer," Nick said gruffly. "And let's carry on with this game while we still got some night left, huh?"
John was still glaring at him. Whatever. He was so concerned about the brat, he wasn't going to be thinking about his cards and that was all to the good.
He lost count of the number of hands he'd played and the number of beers he'd drunk. The bottles were piling up in front of him. John and Dean were nearly out of it. Chuck was doing good though. Really good. So far he'd won 'most every hand he'd dealt, and Blake frowned darkly as Chuck won again.
"You're having a good night," John commented tightly.
Chuck grinned obliviously. "Yeah. I swear I'm not normally this lucky."
"If it is luck," Dean muttered moodily.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Chuck demanded indignantly, dealing out the next hand of cards.
Nick glanced at his briefly before frowning and throwing them down in disgust. "This is the exact same hand I got last time. Fuck's sake, you shuffling these at all?"
"Of course," Chuck claimed, looking round at Blake and Dean for support, but they just looked away. There was a pattern here and it was embarrassing to be anywhere near.
"Maybe we should just cut you out of the dealing," he suggested.
Nick made a contemptuous noise. "Not like any of you are great shakes at it. Anyone would think you'd never even been to a casino before."
He certainly hadn't. And he doubted it was any different for Chuck or Dean. "I - "
" - you know, maybe I should just deal for every hand fron now on," Nick suggested with a hint of a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"No," he said immediately. No way he was gonna let them be taken advantage of like that.
"Worth a try," Nick said with a shrug. "You know, real casinos have dealers who aren't even playing. Maybe someone wouldn't mind quitting and just helping the rest of us play."
Yeah, right. He wanted to win. And so did everyone else.
"Too bad we don't have someone else," Dean said with a sihg, looking down at the dwindling pile of money in front of him. "Someone who'd actually play fair," he added with a dirty look at Chuck.
Unnoticed, the brat had got up and silently crept over to the table. "Nick, I'm hungry," he whined softly.
Nick scowled at him briefly. "You can get something when we get in," he told him shortly.
Blake laughed. "Hey, brat, you know how to deal cards?"
The brat turned round and stared at him, wide-eyed and blinking. "Uh, yes, I mean I learned for my magic act in the school talent show. I came in second, and that was only cos Daisy Smith used real - "
" - shut up, brat," Nick interrupted while for some inexplicable reason, John was laughing to himself. But Nick's eyes were speculative as he eyed the kid. "You can really deal cards?"
This time he kept his mouth shut as he nodded.
That really hadn't been the answer any of them had been expecting, he thought. But now, maybe it was the beer talking, but it sounded hilarious. "Let the brat deal," he sniggered. "If you can't trust a boy scout, who can you trust?"
Nick sighed and kicked the empty chair at his side out from under the table. "There. Sit. Deal the cards and keep your mouth shut. And if you screw this up, I'll make you regret it for a year."
Blake leaned in close to the kid. "We'll take those badges you love so much and force them down your throat, one by one," he promised.
There was the briefest flash of something in the brat's eyes, and just for a moment, he was sure the brat was going to say something. But then it was gone and he looked just as cowed and uncertain as always. Blake responded to the momentary feeling of unease by patting the kid lightly on the cheek. "There you go."
"Leave him alone," John growled again.
"Oh, what, is he your girlfriend?" Blake taunted. "Let me guess, it's the shorts, right? Those smooth golden thighs. How could anyone resist."
John leapt to his feet. "I should - "
" - John," Nick interrupted sharply.
John too no notice. "People like you make me sick. You're nothing but a coward and a bully. If I had my way we'd - "
" - John," Nick said again, and even without raising his voice, the temperature in the room dropped a degree or two.
"Who?" John asked irritably, then froze. "I mean, what?"
For a long moment, Nick just stared at him. Then, evenly, he said "Sit down and play."
John obeyed. Blake wasn't surprised.
With a nervous glance round the table, the brat pulled the cards closer and started to shuffle. They danced smoothly through his fingertips.
It was very late now and the world was swimming in front of his eyes. One thing he knew though, he was losing and losing badly. Most of his money was in front of Nick, and the rest was in the middle of the table.
John had gone out a few hands back, and he'd stormed out with bad grace after the brat had fetched him his coat and whispered some stupid childish nonsense. And Dean had crashed and burned a bit before that, but he was still here, tossing around the ball he'd made from the brat's Captain America comics.
Problem was, he'd got cocky. He'd had a few great hands in a row, he'd been winning big, and then all of a sudden everything had turned to shit at once. He'd been holding a straight, one he'd been working on for ages, and then it turned out Nick had a royal flush. After that he'd fallen to pieces, but he was sure he could get it all back if he just got a break.
Too bad that wasn't looking like it was going to happen.
"You gonna call or what?" Nick demanded irritably, glancing at his watch.
He didn't have anything to call with, and Chuck was in the same boat. He'd already put all his money in, and all the money they'd got from Doug.
"I-I can't," he stammered.
A cold smile spread across Nick's face. "Then I guess the pot's mine," he said.
"No, hang on," he protested. "Let me think."
There had to be something. Surely.
Even as he thought, there was the sound of shouting and running footsteps coming from outside, and there was a touch of light showing under the door.
"Someone's coming," he said stupidly. "Hey!"
Nick was already on his feet, sweeping all the money into a backpack. "That'll be the nightwatchman," he said. "Unless they just went ahead and called the cops straight away."
"What?!" he demanded, struggling to his feet. "What the fuck?"
"We need to get out of here," Chuck agreed urgently, rummaging around the floor for his shoes and jacket.
Nick and the brat were already vanishing out the door. Just before it swung shut, the brat looked back at them and grinned widely. "So long, guys. Nice knowing you."
And then they were gone, and the money was gone, and they still had to get out of here. "Come on," he snapped, stumbling towards the door, his legs made of rubber.
The corridors were dark and they raced through, searching desperately for the way out of this stupid school, and the flashlights crept closer all the time.
Suddenly he saw a familiar stairwell. "This is it!" he yelled. This was the way that led back to the open door. He smirked, relieved. They'd get out of here and then they'd go track down those bastards and make them pay. "Come on."
He staggered down the stairs, clinging tightly to the bannister and he crashed into the door, feeling around blindly for the handle.
It was locked.
They were locked in. And the flashlights were shining down on them. "Alright, boys," a voice drawled from above. "We've got you covered. How 'bout you just come quietly."
It didn't seem like they had much choice.
They lay flat on the school roof, side by side, watching as Blake and his friends were bundled into the back of a squad car.
"Doubt Doug's mother will be so happy to leave him with his cousin after they get a call from the cop shop," he grinned.
"And Doug'll be pleased when we give him his money back," Rusty nodded, counting out the cash.
Danny reached over and added a couple of bills to the pile. "Plus a little extra."
"Plus a little extra," Rusty agreed, smiling at him. "And there's the cut we promised Buzz and the others, and we're still up nearly a hundred dollars."
"Huh." He thought about that for a moment. "Want to go to the new video store at the weeknd? See what we can pick up?"
Rusty smiled and stretched. "Sounds good." He grimaced and looked down at himself. "You know, Blake might have had a point. These shorts are really too short."
"They look good on you," Danny said insincerely.
"There's a hole in your woggle," Rusty told him.
He pursed his lips. "Sounds - "
" - doesn't it just," Rusty nodded.
He stole a sideways look at Rusty. He was smiling still, looking happy and victorious, still riding the usual wave of post-job joy. And yes, Danny was feeling most of that too, but there was a knot in his stomach.
"We should have done this the other way around," Rusty said, looking at him carefully."
"That would have made the shorts even shorter," he pointed out lightly.
"Don't think it's the short you should be worrying about," Rusty told him. "Think it's the tight."
He raised an eyebrow. "You calling me fat?"
"If the shorts fit," Rusty smiled before growing serious. "None of it was real, Danny."
"I know," he said. It wasn't. But that didn't mean it had felt good. He couldn't help comparing himself to -
" - no," Rusty said levelly. "I'm not a scared boy scout and you're not...you're not that."
He smiled. "No we're not," he agreed, and the knot in his stomach evaporated. "You reckon the cops took the rest of the beer?"
"If they didn't, chem class tomorrow is gonna be more interesting than usual," Rusty said.
He laughed. "Come on. Mr Stewart would have drank it long before class started."
"I left a couple of beers back at yours," Rusty told him, standing up slowly. "I got an extra crate in case we needed to bribe Buzz a little more." He looked pensive. "Should have told him he could have them if he managed to avoid punching Blake."
Danny stood up too, brushing the dust from the roof off his knees. "Should have promised me that," he said. It had been a close run thing. The temptation had been almost too much to bear.
Rusty smiled. "You are a paragon of self control," he said, stepping in close and reaching his hand up to Danny's face affectionately. Wondering, he reached up his hand towards Rusty's. Then Rusty quickly ripped the false moustache off his face.
"Ow," he complained.
"Better to do it quickly," Rusty said unrepentantly.
Oh, that was just -
" - pizza?" Rusty suggested innocently.
He gave up. "Pizza," he agreed.
The perfect end to a ridiculous evening.
A/N: Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think. ;)