Vimes gazed out across the dark city from the large window in the Oblong Office, listening to the quiet sounds Vetinari made as he worked. It was nothing extraordinary - just the humdrum noises of any conscientious public servant – but Vimes knew that he was hearing all of it because Vetinari was putting effort into letting him hear it. He knew this because every now and again the man forgot himself and just…faded away into the silence. Vimes had once thought he'd left the bloody room, but it turned out he'd just been working on a challenging crossword clue and had sat still for too long in a badly lit corner.
Behind him he heard a drawer close, and then a moment later a decanter clinked softly against the rim of a glass. The Patrician didn't drink often, but he permitted himself a small measure on occasion, although even now Vimes still had no idea what prompted it; did he drink to celebrate? To forget? To take off some invisible, unknowable edge? Vimes often mused that while he might well know Vetinari better than practically anyone else by now, he understood him only in the way he understood the weather; he could see the clouds and hear the thunder, and certainly he knew damned well when he was getting rained on, but as to the processes involved in producing either he could only speculate, occasionally whilst running for cover.
Whatever the cause, though, Vimes took a small, secret pleasure on those occasions the man reached for the bottle in his presence. Most people, on finding out Vimes was an alcoholic, made an issue of it. He could tell they felt awkward drinking around him, because they tiptoed and alluded as if the temptation might overwhelm him and embarrass them. Vetinari was different. It didn't seem to occur to him that he should worry about Vimes; he would either drink or he wouldn't, and the decision was his alone. Because Vetinari knew exactly who watched the watchman.
Off in the distance, the clacks towers flashed. The city always looked peaceful from up here, and he had taken to spending long periods just staring out at it while Vetinari worked. By an interesting quirk of the architecture – and for interesting read extremely well-designed - it was relatively easy to see everything that was going on in the streets below, but incredibly difficult to see in. Vimes knew this because he had, on several occasions, tried.
"There's supposed to be some fireworks tonight. Agatean new year, apparently." There was only a small native population in the city, but the other citizens of Ankh Morpork had enthusiastically embraced any excuse to play with state sanctioned incendiary devices, and the business for them had exploded almost as rapidly as some of their more incautious purchasers. Vimes glanced at his watch. "Thought they'd have started by now."
He sensed Vetinari move behind him, then the man was peering over his shoulder at the city spread before them. "Yes, Captain Carrot informed me about the raid on the warehouse in Dumple Street. He tells me they seized a rocket called the widow-maker. He's formally requested to have it categorised as a siege weapon."
Vetinari took another half-step forward, moving to press lightly against Vimes' back.
There were, Vimes had to admit, other reasons he looked forward to the nights Vetinari permitted himself to imbibe.
He shivered slightly as the man snaked a hand around his waist.
"I had an interesting conversation with Lord Downey this afternoon." Vetinari's voice was low, and the way his lips brushed Vimes' ear did interesting things to other, more distant parts of his anatomy.
Vimes forced himself to concentrate. "Downey? On his own?"
Vetinari made an affirmative noise.
Vimes grunted in surprise. "Serious, then." Vetinari generally shared very little about his younger years, but after one particularly frustrating meeting with the head of the assassins he had become uncharacteristically verbose about his time at the guild; the stories had given Vimes an even greater dislike of Downey but did provide some amusing insight into why the man tended to bring witnesses when he had to meet the Patrician. "What are your old gang up to now..?"
He trailed off as Vetinari's hand drifted lower. "He wished to inform me about a potential threat."
Vimes frowned, though slightly distractedly as delicate fingers started to unlace his britches. "How very civic minded of him. Didn't think they went in for warning their potential victims. Isn't it against their code, or something?"
"Lord Downey is as invested in maintaining the status quo as we are, Vimes. He is not an entirely stupid man. And he did not, of course, share who was attempting to procure his services."
The skilful fingers had finished their work and slipped in between the layers of fabric; Vimes swallowed hard. "So…ah…was this a threat against you?"
"Against you, actually, commander." The man sounded vaguely amused.
Vimes let out an embarrassed moan as the hand wrapped itself around his cock and started to move slowly. His let his head fall back against Vetinari's shoulder, displaying his throat and the two reddened marks left by Dragon months ago. Vetinari hummed and brought his unoccupied hand up to carefully brush his fingers across the marks. Vimes closed his eye at the sensation. The man seemed to have a fascination with the scars; it had initially made him self-conscious, but that had vanished quickly the first time Vetinari had used his teeth to delicately nip the skin around them.
Bloody hell; focus, man. "Me? Ahh…ha. I presume he told whoever it was that I'm…off the books?"
"Indeed, although he confessed that he was tempted to relist you, given the sums involved."
Vimes opened his eyes again at that but was immediately distracted by their reflections in the glass. Gods, that's a sight. He watched a while longer and tried to imprint the image into his memory. Vetinari's hand was moving in the same calm, precise manner he used for every other task he set his mind to; funny how much less irritating it seemed in this particular situation, Vimes thought.
Vetinari cleared his throat pointedly. Vimes dragged his attention back to the discussion, as it were, at hand. What had they been talking about again..? Oh yes; how much it would cost someone to have him killed. Vimes was vaguely aware that Vetinari's idea of erotic conversation wasn't what you'd call traditional, but as long as he didn't stop what he was doing then Vimes would happily put up with almost any given topic right now.
"Interestin'." His voice came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Mmm. How much am I worth these days…?"
"Two million dollars, Your Grace." Vetinari's grip tightened a fraction but kept up the same measured pace. Vimes felt the man's lips ghost against the sensitive skin just under his jaw.
"Ohh. Shit. Ha!" He closed his eyes again.
"Quite." Vetinari's voice had taken on a gravelly quality of its own, Vimes noted with satisfaction. He reached back and grabbed a handful of the man's robe, and tugged forward. Vetinari obliged and stepped in closer, pressing himself more firmly against Vimes. His idle hand fastened onto Vimes' hip, holding him in place. Vimes was gratified to feel that Vetinari was clearly appreciating the situation as much as he was.
"He should have said yes. I could do with the…ohh…"
Vetinari sounded bemused. "I trust you weren't going to say excitement there, commander? I'd like to think you have enough of that."
"Exercise," Vimes ground out. "Or entertainment. Take your pick. Why didn't he?"
Vetinari shifted his hips, nudging against his backside, whilst at the front his hand had finally increased its pace, although not nearly by enough, in Vimes' considered opinion.
"He…appreciates your importance. To the city." He gripped Vimes' hip more firmly, holding him while he moved against him again.
"Of course. The city." Vimes could feel delicious heat starting to build, spreading out from where Vetinari's hand continued its delicate assault. "And of course, the city is…ahh…very important to me, too. Sir."
There was a beat - just a second's hesitation - that threw off Vetinari's rhythm. Vimes grinned to himself, even as his body wailed in protest at the interruption.
Then several things happened at once. Vetinari abandoned his grip on Vimes hip and spun him round, pressing him back up against the window. Vimes looked up into large, dark eyes as the man bore down on him. The hand on his cock had faltered only briefly and now it tightened; Vimes clutched at Vetinari and groaned, leaning his head back against the glass but not breaking eye contact. Vetinari watched the man for a minute as he started to come undone, then dove in to use his teeth and tongue to nip and tease the exposed flesh of his throat. At this Vimes came hard, swearing and gasping, his legs threatening to give way beneath him, and as the feeling swept over him he heard the first of the fireworks explode overhead. When he'd caught his breath again, he gave a ragged laugh and said, "bloody good timing, sir."
Vetinari pulled back enough to meet his gaze. "I know you believe I orchestrate absolutely everything in this city, Vimes, but I can't claim credit for that, sadly."
"Oh, you can claim a fair bit of credit for it, I think, sir." Vimes grinned at him. Vetinari permitted himself a small smirk and withdrew his hand, and Vimes relaced his britches, ignoring the thought of the mess inside them. Feeling bold, he grabbed the front of Vetinari's robe and walked him backwards towards his desk. The Patrician raised an amused eyebrow at him but tolerated being manhandled. When he was leaning back against the edge of his desk, Vimes slid a hand up under his robe and rubbed the bulge he found there through the trousers, watching Vetinari's face as he did. The man could even look implacable with a hand on his dick.
"So, what was the outcome, sir?"
"Hmm…?" Vetinari's eyes had half closed.
"Of your conversation with Downey. Do I need to buy more bear traps?"
Vetinari leaned back further, propping himself up with his hands. "I shouldn't worry about that, commander. Ah."
Vimes pointedly slowed his hand. "Don't worry? There's someone out there willing to pay two million dollars to kill me and we have no idea who it bloody is! You sure you can't make Downey tell us who it was?"
Vetinari frowned. "Mm. That won't be necessary, commander. Lord Downey of course couldn't tell me his name. However, what he could give me was a price."
Vimes stopped what he was doing, which made Vetinari open his eyes properly and look at him.
"You…are you saying you took out a counter-contract out on the man who wanted to kill me…?"
"Indeed. It seemed the most practical option, since I know how you feel when I take matters into my own hands." Vetinari raised an eyebrow that was growing much less amused by the minute, and continued. "Besides which, commander, I believe Lady Sybil would be very unhappy if I allowed the situation to continue unchecked. Ultimately, I felt it prudent not to permit any further developments that may put her and young Sam at risk."
Vimes stared at him, as inside his head multiple contradictory emotions warred.
Was he furious? He absolutely was. What gives him the damned right?!
Was he grateful? Well yes, admittedly, he was that too. I mean, he is protecting us...
Was he suspicious? Always.
Was he secretly pleased? Fuck. Yes.
He gritted his teeth. "Don't you ever make that kind of decision again without discussing it with me. Sir. Is that bloody clear?"
Vetinari regarded him cooly for a minute, during which the anger started to give way to a worry that he might have gone too far; he'd never threatened anyone halfway through sex before. But, he observed, Vetinari certainly didn't appear to have lost any interest in the proceedings.
Finally the other man narrowed his eyes. "Of course, commander. I hope you understand, however, that as Patrician, the safety of…the city…is of paramount importance to me, and I could not countenance standing by while it was threatened."
Godsdamn the man. Vimes felt another emotion wash over him, one that he didn't care to examine too closely, so instead he lunged and grabbed the back of Vetinari's neck, pulling him into a rough kiss. Vetinari hesitated, surprised, but when Vimes persisted he kissed back cautiously. Vimes' hand resumed its previously forgotten motion, causing Vetinari to make a small noise into his mouth. After a minute Vimes pulled away and stepped back, then swiftly dropped to his knees before he lost his nerve. Vetinari's pupils dilated as he watched Vimes fumble open his trousers and take him into his mouth. Vimes heard the Patricians breath catch in his throat, and any sense of concern as to whether he was going to regret this evaporated as his cock made a determined yet futile effort to rejoin the proceedings.
"Does this mean I'm forgiven for attempting to save your life, commander?"
Vimes pulled back off him. "Respectfully sir, this is my first time trying this, so if I have to split my attention between listening to your sarcastic comments and minding where my teeth are going, you might regret it."
"My apologies, Vimes. Please don't let me…ah…distract you." Vimes had resumed mid-way through the sentence, and what he lacked in skill he attempted to make up for in enthusiasm. After a while he felt Vetinari's fingers thread their way through his hair, setting his scalp tingling, and when he looked up the man had his eyes closed and his head back. Vimes' jaw was staring to ache, but wild horses couldn't have pulled him away now, seeing Vetinari like this; he shifted to be able to use his hand as well and was rewarded by the sensation of the fingers tugging his hair as Vetinari moaned out a warning. "Commander..." He hadn't really planned this bit, and in the seconds it took to decide that he would just go along with it he'd missed the opportunity to do otherwise, anyway, and so swallowed primarily out of surprise.
His first thought was, oh.
His second thought was, bloody hell; that was amazing.
His third thought was, I'm down on my knees before the ruler of the city; Old Stoneface would turn in his graves.
His fourth thought was, now this is the kind of power I could get used to.
Vetinari let out a sigh, and Vimes watched as he sat up, reordering himself as if nothing had occurred.
Pushing himself to his feet whilst ignoring the creaks from his knees, Vimes went to clean up in the bathroom attached to Vetinari's sparse bedroom. He really should suggest they try the bed next time, although he was hesitant to bring it up; it somehow felt far too intimate. Casual was better.
He splashed water on his face, and stared at himself briefly in the mirror.
He's having someone killed for you. Are we sure we can describe this as 'casual'?
Vimes scowled at himself. No, he's having them killed for him. He wouldn't be doing it otherwise.
Right. Fine. But…isn't that worse..?
Vimes decided to stop listening to himself.
When he returned to Vetinari's office, the man was leaning against the window, looking out at the fireworks. Vimes walked over and picked up his coat from the chair, and eyeballed the ornamental knife that had made its way from the Yard's evidence locker back onto the desk. He suspected it was there to make a point, but he would be damned if he was going to ask about it.
Instead he asked, "how much did it cost you? The contract?"
Vetinari didn't turn, but appeared to think before responding. "What answer are you hoping for, Vimes?"
"I don't know."
"I suspect that's because there isn't one that would make you happy. You disagree with the concept; not, as it were, its execution."
Vimes grunted. "I bloody hate assassins."
"A bold thing indeed, to say to one." Vimes could hear the amusement in Vetinari's voice; evidently he was still in a good mood. "I'm curious how you reconcile your words with your…actions, tonight, commander."
"You know how."
"Ah, yes; compartmentalising, again, I imagine? And how are those little boxes working for you?"
Had there been a hint of uncertainty, in the question? He wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.
"Seems to be working well enough for both of us, I'd say sir. Based on the available evidence."
The last colourful burst of the fireworks faded away. Vetinari walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a second drink; Vimes raised an eyebrow at this blatant show of excess, and Vetinari ignored it.
"Hmm. And Lady Sybil?"
Vimes shifted uncomfortably. "Still happy with the arrangement, she says." In fact, Sybil was being remarkably relaxed about the whole thing, he thought, but then she was still having to listen to him rant about Vetinari at least once a week, so presumably she wasn't feeling particularly threatened by the other changes to their dynamic.
He suddenly felt incredibly lucky, and had a burning desire to be at home, if only to have a good bath. He shrugged into his coat. "I'll be off, sir. I've said I'll meet the new recruits at the Yard in the morning."
"Of course, commander." Vetinari finished the rest of the whisky and returned the glass to its spot on the cabinet, then sat back at his desk and pulled out a stack of papers. "Don't let me detain you."
Vimes snorted, and shook his head as he left.
Outside, he fastened his coat tightly; the air was cold and crisp and while there were undoubtedly some clouds on the horizon, there was, for the time being at least, no sign of rain.