Fic: Tealeaf and Halfinch (1/?)

Apr 23, 2011 21:26

Title: Tealeaf and Halfinch (1/?)
Author: writteninhaste
Rating: PG (for now)
Warnings/Spoilers: some for Inception and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld
Notes: Discworld AU
Summary: Eames turned around and saw Death standing behind him. “Bugger.”



Tealeaf and Halfinch

Prologue
Chapter 1

Arthur shuffled the sheaf of papers Death had left him before the evening rounds and set them aside. His quill needed more ink. Somewhere in the bowls of the house Albert was grumbling around the kitchen, banging pots and enjoying his self-inflicted misery. In the hallway the overly-tall grandfather clocked chimed rather dolefully.

Sighing, Arthur pushed away from his desk and went to hunt for more ink. No matter how many times he rearranged them, the inkwells never seemed to be in the same place twice. He was tempted to lay blame on Albert. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him this might be Death’s idea of a good joke.

There was a rattle at the window and Arthur looked round in time to see a man slink through the casement and lad on his feet. He was dressed like a burglar, complete with eye-mask, flat-cap, stripy jumper and an obscenely large sack labelled SWAG. It gave the distinct impression that the burglar might be compensating for something.

The burglar caught sight of Arthur and paused, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh you’re here. Running a bit behind schedule aren’t you? Normally you’re looking for new inkwells by now.”

Arthur sighed. “I was just about to start.”

“Right-O.” Said the thief. “Well, if you can just get back to doing that, I can get on with the business of stealing you.”

“Stealing me?” Arthur demanded. “Don’t burglars usually steal things and leave the kidnapping to the experts?”

“I am an expert. See.” The burglar dug a card out from his back pocket and handed it to Arthur. The ink was smeared in one corner where it had obviously gotten wet at some point.

-------- Eames. Certified Thief.
Advanced Qualifications in looting, cat-burglary, heist-management and kidnapping.

Recognised member of the
Guild of Cutpurses, Thieves and Allied Trades.

Please address all complaints and/or inquiries to your local Guild representative.

Arthur returned the card and Eames slipped it back into his pocket. He held the SWAG bag out to Arthur. “As you can see, this is all officially sanctioned. So if you’d be so kind as to get into the bag we can be on our way.”

“No.”

Eames blinked at him. “No.”

“I have work to do and I don’t much feel like being stolen. Please leave.”

Eames huffed as Arthur turned away and began rummaging in one of the cupboards. Really, refusal wasn’t the done thing. Everyone knew that when a thief came to steal something, you let him get on with it and then filed a claim with the Guild once he’d had sufficient time to get away. Refusing to participate at all was just un-sporting.

With a sigh, Eames cracked Arthur neatly over the head, knocking him unconscious. He felt bad about it until he saw that Arthur had not been looking for inkwells at all and was instead clutching a weighted baton that had been hidden in the cupboard. Impressed with the man’s resourcefulness, Eames deigned to put everything back in its proper place before bundling Arthur into his sack.

He carefully lowered the sack out the window, checked that the coast was clear. Then (because Eames was a proud thief and always did things by the book) he went back to the desk and left Death a receipt.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Arthur awoke with a splitting headache and the stench of burlap sticking in his nostrils. He was lying on a bed - which was surprising. And his hands and feet were bound - which was not.

There was an almighty crash, followed by a bout of swearing and then a head poked itself around the door.

“I was just making a spot of breakfast.” The head said. “Would you like some?”

Arthur recalled the greasy breakfasts Albert seemed to favour and felt his stomach roll unpleasantly. Of ourse, that might have had more to do with the concussion he was sporting but you never knew.

“Nothing fried I hope.”

The head shook itself; it needed a haircut. “Fresh fruit and a pot of coffee. There’s some bread too if you’d like it.”

“Stolen?” Arthur asked.

“ ’Course.” The head said. “But tastes better for it, I promise.”

Arthur looked down at the rope tied around his hands and feet.” I’ll be eating in here then, I take it?”

“That’s the idea.”

Arthur sighed. “Very well. Some breakfast please.”

The head disappeared again and Arthur took the chance to look around. The room was filled with loot from all over the disc - possibly even the multiverse. And all of it was gaudy enough to put even the most dedicated of wizards to shame.

The reappeared, accompanied by a body this time, and carrying a tray of food which it placed carefully in Arthur’s lap. Arthur looked up into a pair of eyes the colour of the River Ankh (or at least, the colour that the River Ankh might have been had it not been forced to run through the city.)

Arthur looked down again. “Are you the same man who stole me yesterday.”

The man nodded. “Would have thought that was obvious.”

“Just checking.” Arthur said. “You sound different.”

The thief, and here Arthur remembered his name was Eames, grinned the grin of someone very pleased with their professional performance.

“I am a Master of Disguise. Full marks during training.”

“You gave me a card with your name on it.” Arthur said.

Eames looked blank for a moment and then flushed. “Yes, well. No reason for that to be my real name is there?”

Arthur had a sneaking position that the name on the card was just that. He decided not to mention it. Thieves weren’t known for murdering people but assumptions often turn out to be wrong. “I thought thieves were supposed to speak in rhyming slang.” Arthur said and watched as Eames turned even redder.

“Never got the hang of it.” Eames said. “Mostly I get by just by keeping my mouth shut during a job. Never meant to talk to you at all.” He paused. “You won’t tell anyone will you?”

“Set me free and I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Arthur said.

“Or I could just keep you here and you won’t have a chance to tell anyone.”

Arthur had thought he might say that. At least there had been no death-threats. Things were looking up. Manoeuvring his bound hands with the skill of a man who had been subject to kidnapping at least once before Arthur popped a piece of fruit into his mouth. Eames reached over and did the same.

They chewed in silence for a while and then Arthur helped himself to a cup of coffee. “Were you paid to steal me or was it something of a whim?”

Eames swallowed his mouthful and seemed to come to a decision. “It was beneficial.” He said evasively.

“You do know who my employer is?” Arthur asked. It seemed a necessary fact to establish. Though how he was going to get back to Death’s House without Death was a conundrum. Perhaps if he could find a wizard -

“Smashing fellow.” Eames said brightly. “Little lacking in the social graces but I suppose that’s natural given his profession.” He stole the last of the fruit but left the coffee. “How did you come to work for him, anyway?”

“I like to work with the best.” Arthur said.

Eames eyed the three-piece suit and the cufflinks shaped like tiny hourglasses. Even after being kidnapped, bagged and trussed like a turkey not a single hair was out of place on Arthur’s head. Eames supposed that for someone that fastidious keeping track of every soul on the disc really was the most suitable profession.

“Your family must worry though.”

Arthur shrugged. “They think I’m an accountant.”

Eames shuddered. “Please send them my condolences.”

“It’s fine. I have a sister who’s a seamstress. Gives them plenty to talk about at dinner parties.”

Eames seemed to think about this for a moment before levering himself to his feet. He pulled a knife from his pocket and Arthur went very still. Oblivious to his captive’s distress, Eames went about sawing the ropes from Arthur’s hands and feet.

“Right. Let’s take a turn about the city shall we?”

Arthur blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Been a while since you’ve been to Ankh-Morpork I expect - thought we’d take a walk around town. Get you a bit of fresh air.”

Arthur nodded. “That would be lovely.”

Eames grinned. Arthur socked him in the jaw and ran for it.

TBC

genre: au, character: eames, author: writteninhaste, spoilers, pairing: arthur/eames, rating: pg, arthur/eames, genre: humour, discworld, character: arthur (inception), type: slash, character: death, fanfic

Previous post Next post
Up