Title: Lucky 13
Chapter title: Fireworks
Fandom: Ocean's eleven (Ocean's 13, technically)
Pairing: Virgil/Turk (slash)
Rating: PG
Summary: The past, their past, his and Turk's, is foreign to him now.
Virgil's POV during and after the fireworks.
A/N: This is the 7th and final chapter of Lucky 13 that takes place during the third movie (Ocean's thirteen) and is the 5th part of the Driving me crazy 'Verse (which includes all three movies)
They all stand outside in the damp night air and watches as the fireworks paint the sky. They're all quiet, pensive, and there's a sense of melancholy mixed in with all the other emotions going around as per usual after a finished job. Maybe it's the feeling of something nice coming to an end. Maybe it's the feeling of something unknown about to start. But even though he can't speak for the other guys, Virgil feels oddly content, despite all the rest of it.
The past, their past, his and Turk's, is foreign to him now. It's a foreign country that he vaguely remembers passing through, but couldn't tell you the capital or the currency of, and all those touristy phrases that he used to have memorized, like "How are you" and "Where is the beach", they've all faded from his memory now. The future, that's the next stop, but so far he's lounging in the waiting area at the airport.
He looks to either side of him at each of the guys, and thinks about how little he really knows about them, and still he knows them better than probably anyone else, anywhere else in the world. One by one, they drop away and disappear into the fabricated night that the city of Las Vegas offers them. They'll see each other in the morning at the airport, probably, but if they don't it won't be a big deal. They're a pack of lone wolfs, all of them.
Well, Virgil has always had Turk, for better or worse. And sure enough, when he's grown bored with the fireworks and turns around to walk out of there, Turk is already sidling up to him.
They don't speak, they just start walking. Side by side, they stroll down the street, hands in their pockets, eyes on the ground in front of their feet.
"So", Turk says after a good ten minutes of silence between them. "We okay? I mean, with the whole Rusty thing and all?"
"Again with Rusty, I don't get it, what is it with this guy, you seem to have a fixation. Personally I think he's a bit smarmy, but I mean, hey-"
"Haha, very funny-"
"Hey, if that's your flavour, who am I to judge, just let me know if you wanna go for it-"
"You're an animal, completely cold-hearted, as usual-"
"-before you go for it, 'cause I don't share."
"Aww shit, now you tell me, I have to call Saul and tell him not to bother dropping by later, then…"
Virgil chuckles, "You're so disturbed…I think I'll keep you around."
He slings his arm around Turk's neck and let's his hand rest on the front of his shoulder. Turk snorts, "You make me sound like a stray… Rusty's not my type, anyway. Just so we're clear."
"You don't have a type", Virgil dismisses.
"I have a type!"
"What, leggy brunettes with a pulse-?"
He realizes what he's said, just as it's too late to take it back. The words seem to echo in the air between them. And he'd really meant to keep their conversation light and teasing, thinking they'd have enough sappy and serious to last them for the rest of the month, or year. Plus, knowing his brother is practically allergic to anything that involves commitment and intimacy, outside the job, this right here is the best way to scare him off.
And sure enough, Turk tenses up under his arm as soon as the words settle. It's like Pavlov's dogs.
"…yeah", he says.
Virgil fights the urge to tighten his grip on his shoulder, and instead he casually lets go of him and tries to play it cool, thinking that maybe if he acts like it, Turk will think nothing of it.
"And breast implants", Turk adds.
"What?"
Virgil stares at Turk, who stares right back, perfect poker face in place. "Breast implants", he repeats. "So, now you know what you're getting for Christmas…"
Virgil just blinks.
Then Turk tilts his head back and guffaws.
"You're sick", Virgil says and shakes his head.
Turk continues chuckling, but he reaches for Virgil's hand and grabs it, interlacing their fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world. Glancing at his profile, Virgil can tell his brother is content too, happy even. And come to think of it, he hasn't seemed that happy in quite a while.
He squeezes his hand a little. Turk looks over and smiles at him, it's an easy smile, genuine. Virgil isn't quite used to it, especially having it directed at himself, but he definitely could get used to it.
"What do you say we get a room for the night, in some other hotel, just the two of us?" he says.
"What, you and me?" Turk says. "In one room? And what, sleep together?"
"Yeah."
"In the same bed?"
Virgil stops walking and lets go of Turk's hand. He turns around to face him completely. Turk's arms fly out to either side, saying, Now what!, but Virgil just crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"What, you don't want to share a bed with me-?"
"Well", Turk says and is most definitely not contradicting him. "You're like a puppy-"
"A what?"
"A puppy, a baby dog-"
"I know what a puppy is, I'm not stupid, Turk, how exactly am I like a puppy-?"
"You whimper and kick and stuff in your sleep-!"
"And you snore, but I'm willing to put up with it, asshole!"
A couple of girls in miniskirts scurries by, heads close together, snickering behind their cupped hands. Turk gives them a wide, insincere smile. Then he glances over at Virgil again, before promptly tilting his head back and half-sighing, half-groaning at the skies. Virgil knows exactly what he's thinking.
"And I'd be careful who I call a girl at this moment in time", he warns him.
Turk chuckles. He rolls his head back and forth, stretching his neck a little.
"Alright", he says softly.
"What?"
"I said, alright. Let's get a room."
"What, with separate beds?"
"King size bed."
"Really?"
Turk reaches for him then, and Virgil lets him grab a hold of his hand and pull him in, until they're standing in a conjoined personal space, and ignore another group of mini-skirts who clique-claque by in stilettos and muffle their snickers and giggles behind hands and bottles of liqueur.
"What's the catch?" Virgil wants to know.
Turk chuckles again then, and he keeps pulling on his arm, even though Virgil can't possibly step any closer to him. So instead he leans down, he holds back from the kiss for just a moment and searches his brother's eyes for any sign of trickery, but when he finds nothing but amusement, he leans down the rest of the way and slides their mouths together.
It still boggles his mind how well they fit together, and how right it feels.
Turk's hands find their way into his hair, fingers weaving through the messy locks, finger tips scratching his scalp, and he shivers involuntarily at the sensation, pressing himself harder into the embrace, moaning, humming, purring into his brother's mouth.
"Get a room!" some wise guy yells from across the street, and they break apart.
Once he's got his breathing under control, Virgil bends down and nips at Turk's neck, small, teasing love bites, not hard enough to leave marks, but just enough to have him clutching at his shoulders, desperately.
"No catch?" he mumbles, lips resting against Turk's pulse point, the tip of his tongue sneaking out to tease the spot. Turk hisses and pushes at his shoulders.
"What is it with you and public places…" Turk mutters.
Virgil bites him, a little harder, and sucks on the flesh. Determined to leave a mark this time. Turk gurgles down a moan and what sounds like a curse.
"No catch?" he repeats, and gives the mark, his mark, a couple of soothing licks.
"Well", Turk drawls. "There is one… you have to put out."
Virgil grins against the side of Turk's neck. He hums, and pretends to mull it over. Then he straightens up and grabs his brother by the hand and starts walking down the street again.
"I can live with that", he decides.
The End.