nickkenning:

Nick grinned, “I’ll find you.  There is a possibility that Klaus Falk might be escorted out after this ludicrous display.”

 He leaned over and kissed Jim on the mouth.  It was the sort of thing that would have made Sebastian look away and Mycroft bristle, but it was just the way they were.  There was always some contact between them; when they were together, they touched in one way or another almost constantly.  When they were apart, they texted or emailed.  The communication was important, the constantly affirming feedback loop that told each one that no matter what he did, there was always one person on Earth who would think he was right.

Nick clasped Jim’s hand lightly, then put his character back on.  The bright-eyed, wild-haired German tourist said brightly, “We go?”

Jim rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Oh, my God. Do not get yourself actually arrested. Because your fluffy boyfriend will definitely find out about it then. I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t have a microchip in you yet. Just to make sure he knows where you are at all times.” Truth be told, Jim himself had considered this, but obviously he knew better than to say that.

He tightened his hand on Nick’s for a moment, then grinned and nodded.

“We might as well.” He got out of the car, pulling his friend with him. As the car pulled away he started up the path, releasing Nick’s hand. By the time they got to the door, they needed to look unassociated. Suddenly, the criminal stopped and dug his hands into his pockets. “Fuck…I don’t have any cash. I never actually carry anything…I mean, how often do I need to buy things?” He never carried anything. No ID, no wallet, no cash, no gun. His mobile. That was it.

He smiled sweetly and held out his hand.

“Money for my entry ticket, Nicky? Pretty please?”

nickkenning:

Nick’s smile was slow and mischievous, close-lipped and downright evil.  He shook his head, “I can’t justtellyou!  Where would be the fun in that?”

He walking his fingertips down Jim’s thigh, suddenly having a weird flash of memory.  He and Jim had been very drunk, but they were trying to be “good adults” and study for an exam that was rapidly rushing to meet them at nine am.  It must have been around 4, and Jim, utterly pissed, kept walking his index and middle fingers across Nick’s notes and saying that it was “belligerent finger man.”  It had been really funny and had led to more drinking, then a good solid fuck on the sofa.  They ended up oversleeping the first hour of the exam but still pulling top marks.

He laughed to himself, then kissed Jim’s cheek, right on the swell of his cheekbone directly below his eye.  He shook his head, “You’ll have to wait and see.  You might want to set the CCTV to record it for you so you can watch it later.  It’ll be that good.”

Then he had a sudden thought of Mycroft seeing the video footage.  Well, what were the chances that The British Government was going to be looking at CCTV of a silly little art studio?

Jim raised his eyebrows, pressing his lips together as he smiled. It was his almost laughing smile, his trying not to smile smile.

“You are going to be something spectacular they’ll remember for years to come, aren’t you? Please tell me you’re going to be the best story around for the next ten years.” He grinned, sitting up and sliding one hand around the back of his friend’s neck so he could pull him down to kiss his forehead. This was so nice, this acting 25 again. No responsibilities or anything else, just for a little bit. Just laughing and saying things in stupid voices and there honestly being no repercussions at all. Just for a few hours. Because while they were the kings of their cities, the self-proclaimed only authorities they answered to, they both knew that wasn’t it. Not exactly. As long as there were other people, they would have to answer in some way. Not to the law, the government. It was the other people, and neither of them quite understood it yet. It was the reason Nick would be so meek when he saw Mycroft next. It was the reason Jim would apologize to Sebastian for doing this stupid thing by making dinner (or trying) though he would never tell the sniper why he was doing it. They weren’t good at it, but they were learning to try.

And it was exhausting. So they needed this, the two of them the only ones they’d ever met who understood. A shrugging off of those things they didn’t understand. Just for a few hours.

The car slowed as they neared the little gallery; it was actually part of a large house. The car stopped on the street and Jim grinned.

“Alright…so the gallery’s around back. We can just take that walkway there. The car to pick us up will be on the other side of the house. So keep that in mind and don’t necessarily run out the way we go in. Are you ready?” He raised his eyebrows.

nickkenning:

Nick settled slightly against his friend, resting his head lazily on his shoulder.  He partially dropped the character, keeping the accent but resuming correct English grammar, “Six…?  Mm.  Yeah, that sounds about right.  Four for your coat, two for my cufflinks. Yeah.”

He liked the idea of them having things that matched, but not exactly.  They often wore suits by the same designers, but with different cuts and colors; often, they sent each other gifts of things that each liked for himself.  So each had a wardrobe that was definitely his own, but had distinct touches of the other.

“I have a great jeweler in New York who will make them look great,” the American nodded, then laughed, “We should make it 7, make Softpaws a tie pin without telling him.  God, he’d be so pissed if he knew we were doing this.”

Jim practically snorted, shaking his head as he arranged himself more comfortably with his friend using him as a body pillow.

“What are my chances of finding seven identical buttons in the time it takes you to throw some sort of hysterical German fit? Oh, God, can you even imagine what Sebastian would say? I think I’d like to see him wearing a tie pin like that. Just knowing. Next time you come to London, you wear the cuff links, I’ll wear the jacket with the buttons, and I’ll get him to wear the pin. Matchy matchy.” He laughed cheerfully.

He felt a bit odd that he’d already adjusted to Nick’s put on accent. He barely heard it anymore; it was just a different facet to his friend.

“What…are you going to do, exactly?”

nickkenning:

Nick laughed gregariously, hooking his arm around Jim’s waist and bodily dragging him out to the front of the hotel.  He cheerfully kissed his cheek and mouth as they reached the sidewalk, teasing him in all sorts of cutesy German.  He guessed that Jim knew maybe half of it, but that was enough.  His usual petnames were tucked neatly into it, as well as a number of off-the-cuff terms of endearment.

“Ah, Jimmy… I am yours!”  he said brightly, grinning at him.  Straight, white American teeth. 

“Where is the car?”

Jim could identify some of the things Nick was saying, and he trusted his best friend not to just sneak in calling him a ‘prick’ in there somewhere. But as with petnames in general, there were random words and word combinations that would be impossible to translate directly, and as Jim wasn’t really the petname type in any language, he just let the odd phrases roll through his mind (‘sugar mouse?’) and laughed.

He pointed out the black car idling, looking at his friend.

“That one. The one with the ‘MX’ at the end. The car to pick us up will have those two letters again. Also black. I know a great deal is made out of  the cliche nature of the bad guys using black cars, but really, it still remains the best option. Come on.”

He pulled Nick, into the car, settling back comfortably. He’d already sent the address to the driver, so he turned to his friend.

“Alright, so we’re clear. I’m looking to get six buttons?”

nickkenning:

Nick grinned at him and cocked his head to the side, perfectly in character, before asking, “Your name?  Jim?  Jim Moriarty? Why?”

The accent was very easy, but what made it all convincing was the German grammatical mistakes; he’d been in the German-American community all his life and was a native German speaker himself.  He loved the language and was proud of his fluency.

The wide-eyed wonder was a tribute to all of the dazed tourists that he cut past in New York.

He looked over at his friend, then grinned and moved to flatten him between the wall and his own body.  Leaning in, he gave him a searing, possessive kiss, using his position to prevent him from pulling away as he kissed him till they were both out of breath.

Nick pulled back and leaned his brow against Jim’s, then laughed and said, “Ist gut?  Yeah.” 

“Ja, sehr gut.” Jim laughed with him, grinning up those few inches. “You are fucking hysterical, did you know that?” He stumbled forward into his friend just as Nick was backing up; the lift had stopped halfway down to allow new passengers to join them. He tried to control the grin on his face as the couple got on, a staid middle-aged couple struggling with bags so overstuffed they must have been staying in London for three months.

The criminal immediately made eye contact with the woman, his dark eyes intense, frightening, some horror movie glare that could only have been enhanced by some special effects adding flames to his pupils. She looked away quickly, and Jim moved on to the man. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head and lowering his eyelashes. He grabbed Nick’s hand, holding it in plain sight. The older man flushed, but didn’t look away until Jim mouthed ‘Call me’ at him and raised his hand to his ear, miming a phone.

When the doors opened in the lobby, the couple spilled out the doors ahead of the two criminals. Jim crowed with laughter, dragging Nick out after him.

“Oh my God, this is like being high! Or insane. Both? Both is good.” He spun himself under Nick’s arm as they walked to the revolving door.

nickkenning:

Nick laughed and half-stumbled after him, easily slipping into the role of a clumsy, jet-lagged tourist.  Putting on a ridiculously thick German accent modeled after his paternal grandfather’s, he said, “Ah, Jimmy, wait… I have to tie the shoes…!”

He released Jim’s hand and leaned down to tie his shoe, then popped up and gave him an exuberant smile, “Okay!  We go.”

It was easy for both of them; like many psychopaths, they’d learned at an early age how to manipulate other people into doing what they wanted.  Naturally, both of them were superb actors, limited only by their inability to actually empathize with other people.  

Grabbing Jim’s hand, the tourist gave it a squeeze and pulled him eagerly down the hall to the elevator.

It’s a good thing Nick was holding Jim’s hand, because the master criminal almost collapsed with laughter when his friend started talking. And it wasn’t because the accent was bad or forced, like some horrible Oktoberfest advert on the telly. It was funny because it was perfect, the perfect accent, and Jim knew that Nick was drawing on his own family, the rounded vowels, the specific grammar of the non-native English speaker.

“Oh my God, Nicky!” he gasped, laugh echoing in the lift when he punched the button for the main floor. The doors slid closed and he leaned back against the wall, arms folded over his stomach. “Keep talking like that. Because if I don’t get used to it before we get there, I will be completely incapable of functioning properly when we get in. Say my name! Seriously, say my name.”

nickkenning:

Nick eyed up the knife thoughtfully, unfazed but curious.  He smiled and said, “No, precious, they don’t.  You can bring that in as long as you’re discreet.” 

He walked to the door and waited for his accomplice, his hand reflexively moving up to smooth the back of his hair again.  The texture was a bit crispy still slightly sticky-gooey where the gel hadn’t hardened yet.  Pulling a face, he whined a bit, “Come ooooon.  We can get shit-faced later when we get back.”

Jim slipped the knife back into his pocket, grinning to himself. He stretched his arms over his head, wiggling his fingers as he brought them down. Jazz hands!

“I think that’s one of the only times I’ve heard you call for a hold on drinking.” He bumped his hip against his friend’s, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket when it vibrated. “And the car’s here, so let’s go! Are you practicing your guttural c’s and h’s? Give me a glimpse of your wide-eyed awe at the majesty of London!” He laughed again, grabbing Nick’s hand in an oddly boyish gesture and pulling him out of the room and to the lift. He flicked through his email to make sure there was nothing that needed urgent attention, then slipped it back into his pocket. Definitely nothing as interesting as an admittedly ridiculous smash and grab for a handful of buttons.

“Come on! Show me the face!”

nickkenning:

He pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead, then pulled back and laughed, “I love that you said ‘getaway.’  Like we’re big bad movie villains with a getaway car, and we’re going to just be shooting out the back windows with our tommy guns.”

Grinning, he released Jim completely and walked over fuss at his hair briefly in the mirror one last time.  It was totally mussed, very European male model chic.  He felt a bit silly, but it was perfect for the character that he would be playing.  It had been a little while since he and Jim had really played this way, really done something incredibly foolish for no real reason. 

In fairness, it wasn’t dangerous.  Worst case scenario, they’d get caught and they’d get taken in, where they’d be just as readily released by some of Jim’s insiders.

That said, they wouldn’t get caught.  Probably wouldn’t even come close.  They were both far too smart, far too quick, and far too charismatic. 

“You have a bit that’s really sticking up in the back. It takes it from ‘yes please get back in my bed’ to ‘aww, look at the ickle thing.’ Come here.” Rather than expecting Nick to walk to him, however, he strolled over to stand behind his friend, reaching up to bring some order to the back of his hair.

He peeked around Nick, smiling at their reflections. They were so different, really, just in appearance. Nick’s hair was longer, lighter, his shoulders were broader. Eyes obviously paler than his, teeth straighter when he smiled. Just a few inches taller. He himself was, obviously, shorter, his skin less pink-toned and a bit more olive. Eyes dark, hair gelled back so severely. His smile more wicked, jaw less strong.

“Come on. My fingers are itching for buttons.” He pulled a little knife out of his pocket, a pretty little folded thing. “Did you see if they have metal detectors? I want to know if I can use this, or if I’ll have to gnaw the buttons off with my teeth.” He laughed brightly, stepping back from his friend and walking back to the table to finish his drink.

nickkenning:

“Well, you do have a bit of attractive bed head, enough to lead the imagination,”  Nick commented, watching Jim alter his appearance into something slightly less formal.  There was something about men in shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow that drove him to distraction; perhaps it was something of a fetish?  Who could say.  In any case, he firmly approved of the changes that were being made.

“Are we taking the tube or a cab or a car or what?” Nick asked.

He walked over and rested his hands on Jim’s narrow hips.

Jim smiled brightly, raising his eyes just slightly to meet his friend’s eyes. Glacier ice, ghost eyes, winter skies, there were a million cold words that he had actually heard used to describe Nick’s eyes. And he’d been there when those words could apply, when someone had disappointed the American criminal and it was fascinating to watch his eyes crystallize, harden, pale slightly and to know that someone was going to die. Jim had never had those eyes turned on him. He’d only known them (excepting maybe brief flashes of worry or hurried annoyance) the way they were now— clear, bright, full of warmth and understanding that only another psychopath could give him. And laughing. To him, Nick’s eyes were always laughing, slightly amused, one of the only other people to see the constant joke that the world was.

“I’ve rung up for a car, and there will be another one afterwards for us to make our getaway.” He tapped on Nick’s chest, then traced the letters on the tshirt. “I’m so excited. I feel like it’s my birthday!”

nickkenning:

“The goat was just a dirty voyeur,” Nick protested, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and grinning at his friend.  He walked over and leaned down to kiss the top of Jim’s head, then said, “You’re dressed mighty fine for going… look at you in your dandied up suit…”

With a little laugh, he picked up his falsified passport and slipped it into his pocket with a handful of bills. 

“You want to borrow anything, or are you just planning on being professional and gorgeous?”

His compliments were completely sincere; he found Jim to be undeniably, irresistibly attractive.  He was very free with his compliments in general, but he was even moreso at the moment knowing that Jim had dressed up specifically for him.

Jim stood up and stretched a bit, feeling comfortably full of Chinese food and a good plan. A stupid plan, honestly. A plan that was childish and stupid and so delightfully amusing. And no one would know. Well…obviously, the buttons would be missed, but no one would know it was them, and Sebastian won’t know that he put himself in harm’s way and Mycroft wouldn’t know that Nick was using his down time to engage in some light, casual burglary.

The consulting criminal took his jacket off and tossed it over the back of the chair. His shirt was wrinkled anyway at this point; he unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

“I don’t know…how casual should I be? Your shoes won’t fit me, and these shoes are bespoke.” He ran his hand through his hair, walking over to look at himself in the mirror as he mussed it more fully. “Look, you can’t even tell that I primped at home for an hour before coming over! I don’t have the ‘two blokes, a lass, and a friendly goat’ look that you have, but I suppose it’s not quite as shiny and pristine.” He turned and sniffed his shoulder. “I also smell vaguely of soy sauce and onions.”

nickkenning:

Nick grinned, “Oh, I have just the idea.  You want to go?  Or do you need a few more minutes with that?”

He kissed Jim’s temple emphatically, then walked over to open his suitcase to rummage through.  After pulling out a pair of comfortable but well-cut trousers and a print t-shirt, he stripped (completely without modesty) and started changing his clothes.  He had to have a nice cardigan that would finish it off…

“I think I have a German passport too… name of Klaus Falk. Nice name, isn’t it?” he said as he looked at his reflection in the long mirror.  Making a face, he mussed up his hair and then went to find his gel to style it into something more appropriate.

“Oh, by the time you’re dressed, I should be ready.” Jim glanced over his shoulder to watch Nicky change. He appreciated his body, the way he was built, sturdy and slim at the same time. He knew his friend worked out just enough to impress his coworkers. More dedication than he had. He grinned broadly at hi. “Nicky, is that your pyjama shirt?” He shook his head, turning back to the screen as Nick told him about the passport.

“My, my…so close, yet so far. Your mum would be thrilled to know her baby boy is making such good use of her family name.” He smirked, then was silent while Nick styled his hair. This was the timing bit, and he blinked slowly as the song built in his head. ‘Meet James Ensor,’ a favourite of Nicky’s. Perfect for these  ‘07 models. He watched the screen, fingers thoughtful but sure on the keyboard.

“And done!” He spun around in the chair, straddling it backwards to watch his friend. “The lock is open to me, Nicky. Open like the whore piece of electronics that it is. And look at you!” He laughed delightedly. “Your hair even! Looks like you just tumbled out of a bed in Dusseldorf. A rather busy bed, by the looks of it. A girl, a boy? Both? All three? Because we can’t leave out the goat, yeah?”