Fic: Hustle, Mickey/Danny

[anitabuchan]

Title: Against A Wall
Rating: 12
Fandom: Hustle
Pairing: Mickey/Danny
Notes: Written for jargonelle for yuletide 2006. So I should thank her for the prompt :).



"Ah! Here he is, the man I was telling you about." Mickey - except not Mickey, it was Alex, and Danny had to remember that - beckoned him forward with a welcoming smile.

Welcoming like a shark welcoming its dinner, that was. Danny looked away, to the mark instead, but that barely helped. The look the other man was giving him made him want to cover his crotch - but now he was looking up at Danny's face, for the first time, and it was time do start the act.

"How d'you do?" he drawled, knowing the mark would smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath and draw all the right conclusions: the conclusions that Danny wanted, that was. "You come here often?"

Mickey let the mark reply, fading into the background without ever moving. But Danny still felt his eyes, watching, looking for any little mistake. Fucking bastard. He was doing this, wasn't he?

The mark shook his head, still staring at Danny. "No, not until Alex brought me here tonight. You two - uh - know each other?"

He might as well just have asked if they'd fucked. Danny gave him the vaguest answer he could think of. "We've been acquainted. But now I suppose I've got something to thank him for, haven't I?"

The mark leaned a little closer, and Danny resisted a smirk. Easy as chatting up a bird. "What do you want to thank him for?"

"Bringing you here."

Delivered for the mark, and the mark alone: Danny knew he had good eyes, and now he used them, connecting with the mark like they were bloody soul mates. He ignored Mickey, standing silent to one side, gazing up as if the world had shrunk to just Danny and the mark.

For the mark, it had.

Mickey broke the spell, clearing his throat. "Richard, the business we were discussing?"

The mark jerked back, looking as if he'd forgotten Mickey was there, and Danny felt a glow of satisfaction. Couldn't do this, his arse. Maybe now Mickey would have a bit more faith in him. Alright, he didn't exactly enjoy his current role - but the fuss Mickey had kicked up over him doing it was just insulting.

"I'm interrupting?" he asked, knowing this was the test. "I'm sorry, I'll - "

"No, no!" The mark caught Danny's elbow before he'd even finished speaking. "No, I'm very glad you've come over. Very glad." He'd been fumbling for his pocket with one hand, and now he withdrew a bunch of notes in Danny's direction. "Here, we'll just finish up while you go and get us some drinks."

"I'll be right back." He stopped himself from throwing a triumphant glance at Mickey before winding his way through the crowds back towards the bar.

He leaned against the bar, waiting for attention. Next time Stacey complained about her usual role in cons, he was telling her to stop taking the piss. This was easy - a little flirting, and the mark was eating out his hand.

He lost himself in a brief fantasy of Mickey coming to him and admitting he was wrong, that Danny was a good grifter and not some stupid little kid who'd freak out if asked to do something different. Which was how he'd acted earlier, as soon as the mark's liking for male prostitutes had been discovered. Stacey was always playing a hooker, and Mickey had never had a problem with that. But when it came to Danny?

No. Of course he couldn't do it.

The bartender approached, and Danny remembered his brief on the mark. "Three white wines, the good stuff," he ordered. "But water two of them, yeah?"

"How much?"

"As much as you can while it still looks like wine," he said, wishing for Eddie, who would know what to do without being told.

He alternated his gaze between the bartender and the corner he'd come from, where Mickey and the mark sat in close conversation. Hopefully about money - and how much of it the mark would be giving to Mickey.

The bartender put the unwatered wine to one side, and Danny held it separately from the others. Mickey wouldn't thank him if either of them got drunk while the mark stayed sober. On reaching the table, he gave the mark his glass first. "For you. I hope I made the right choice?"

The mark sipped it, then smiled. "Excellent taste. I'm pleasantly surprised."

Mickey sampled his wine, showing no reaction to the watered taste. "Yes. You see why I come here - most places buy in bulk, trash that barely deserves the name of 'wine'. Here..."

"They're a little more selective?" The mark finished.

Mickey nodded. "Exactly. But, Richard, I think this will have to be my last. I do have work tomorrow, and - "

"What a pity," said the mark, and Danny felt the man's hand slip round his waist. He managed not to stiffen, even to lean into it slightly.

His skin still felt not so much like it was crawling as running away from the points of contact.

Mickey's eyes had sharpened, and Danny could almost read his thoughts: leave Danny and the mark alone, and Danny will mess it all up. Well, fuck Mickey. He could do fine by himself. "Yeah. It's a shame you can't stay longer."

Mickey's face didn't change, but Danny still knew he'd be in for it later. And, right enough, Mickey said, "Well, I suppose I could take the morning off..."

"No, no, you go!" said the mark.

But Danny, figuring he was probably in enough hot water already, said, "Yeah. After all, if you've spent all tonight talking business, you deserve a bit of time off."

"Oh, that wasn't official business." The mark removed his hand from Danny's waist, placing it on Danny's thigh instead. "Just Alex telling me how I can earn even more money."

"Oh yeah? Well, that's good, because I like men with money."

"I bet you do."

Mickey cleared his throat again, and from the mark's face, Danny wasn't the only one getting annoyed with him. "I don't think you should talk about that to him, Richard. It's not exactly something we want getting around."

"I won't tell anyone." Danny tried to sound shocked at the very idea, knowing that even the mark wouldn't likely believe that. Who trusted a prostitute?

But the mark seemed stupider than he'd thought, which could only be a good thing. He tightened his grip on Danny's thigh, and said to Mickey, "Hey, why don't we do it now?"

Mickey frowned, a rare expression crossing his face: surprise. "What?"

"Well, I know we agreed that I'd give you the money tomorrow, but why not tonight? Come round to my place. I assure you, I have excellent taste in wine, and maybe - " he turned to leer a Danny, "You could stay for an extra nightcap."

Yeah. Maybe. But then, maybe not. He opened his mouth to make some excuse, but Mickey interrupted: "Why not? It'll save you the trouble of coming to see me tomorrow. Shall we leave now?"

Danny resisted the urge to ask Mickey what the hell he thought he was doing until the mark had disappeared for one last piss before they left. "What was that about? We don't want to go back to his place!"

"And we don't want him getting doubts overnight about whether giving two strangers £100,000 is a good idea or not. You leave now. I'll make your excuses."

And leave Mickey to get all the credit? "No. Look - "

"Danny, just do as I say, and go! I don't want you there, alright?"

"No, not alright! Look, I can do this just as well as Stacey could, so you can just shut up, and accept that I am actually capable of taking a mark. Like I just did now - or weren't you paying attention?"

"Danny - "

"Still waiting here?"

Danny jumped as Richard reappeared. From his smile as he looked between them, he hadn't heard anything. Otherwise he'd be more likely holding a knife. "Yeah. For you."

"I thought you might have gone outside. Well, shall we go?"

Mickey shot Danny one last look, the tension around his lips the only sign of anger Danny could see. But then even that faded, replaced by a smile. "We shall," he said. "Let's go."

*

Danny couldn't care less about what a wine was made from or where it came from, and he didn't think Mickey had much interest either. But both of them were sitting nodding as Richard held forth on yet another bottle, insisting they sample it.

And it was good that both of them could hold their drink, because Richard had started swaying even while sitting down and he outweighed Danny by several stone. Not fat, either. Muscle. Danny watched as he poured them all yet another glass of wine - red, this time - before giving Danny another smile and another pat on the thigh.

'Course, by now he'd let his hand slip so high it was more like a pat on the crotch, but Danny was trying not to let that bother him. And he didn't know why Mickey was looking at him like that, because wasn't self-control something Danny was supposed to be practising?

But then, it wasn't just Danny who was getting glared at. Richard was as well, but luckily he was too drunk to notice.

Richard held out another glass in Mickey's general direction, but finally, Mickey shook his head. "Richard, I'm sorry, but I think at this rate I won't even get in tomorrow afternoon." He patted the briefcase beside him. "I will get back to you in a few days on this. Call me any time."

Richard frowned, lip twitching in confusion. "But - "

"Stephen better come as well," said Mickey, gesturing at Danny. "I'll drive him home."

Some part of that penetrated Richard's alcohol-addled mind, and his frown grew deeper. "Oh, no. I'll phone for a taxi, if he's going anywhere."

In other words, if he wasn't going to get to fuck Danny, then he wasn't letting Mickey.

Danny could see a confrontation coming, and this one he wanted to avoid. His head didn't feel clear enough that he could be sure of saying the right thing - like not admitting that they were trying to con him out of his money.

"Um, d'you mind if I use your bathroom?" he said, trying to stay steady as he stood. And if Mickey wanted to complain about Danny getting drunk...well, he chose the mark who loved wine, which made this his fault.

Danny though so, anyway.

He'd just reached the bathroom door when he heard footsteps behind him and turned, stupidly expecting to see Mickey. Instead, it was Richard, and Danny felt himself tense up and the other man stepped closer.

"You're gorgeous," Richard slurred, reaching for him, and despite being so drunk he could barely talk he caught Danny's arm first try. His grip proved those muscles weren't just for show: Danny tried to twist away and failed.

"Mate, I really just need - "

He didn't know if Richard just stumbled or leaned against him on purpose, but Danny found himself pressed against the wall, Richard's fingers tight enough to bruise around one arm and his other hand scrabbling at Danny's waist.

Probably a purposeful fall, then.

Danny tried to heave him off, having even less success that he'd hoped. Richard's nose nuzzled against his cheek, and he breathed into Danny's face. The sour alcoholic smell was enough to make Danny gag, press his cheek against the wall in an attempt to breath clean air. "Get off me!" he snapped, knowing Richard wouldn't listen.

The hand at his waist had given up fiddling with the button on his jeans, and moved down to start groping his crotch, the fingers too rough and somehow feeling damp and revolting even through his jeans. Danny squirmed, trying to get into a position where he could knee Richard - in the balls would be nice, but anywhere would do.

But Richard just leaned harder against him, and now Danny could feel wetness against his jaw, his neck, and he felt nausea rise in his belly. Especially when Richard canted his hips just slightly, and Danny realised that the other man was actually getting off on this, though Danny had no idea how because it had to be one of the least arousing experiences of his life.

Mickey would be just a room or two away. He could call for help. But that would involve several things Danny didn't like, starting with the actual asking for help bit and ending with Mickey being the one he had to ask.

He just struggled harder, succeeding in kicking one of Richard's ankles. Richard just laughed, wet against his neck. "Yeah, I like it when - "

Richard disappeared. Danny gulped in clean air, having to blink before he realised that the man now standing over him wasn't Richard, but Mickey.

Maybe he couldn't hold his alcohol as well as he'd thought.

He didn't have a chance to speak before Mickey bent down and grabbed his arm, making Danny wince as his fingers dug into already tender flesh. "Let go!"

Didn't seem much chance of that. He stumbled to his feet as Mickey dragged him up. "We're leaving."

Richard, lying on the floor, looking unconscious. "You hit the mark?" Somehow, Danny didn't think that counted as going by the book. "You hit the mark!"

"Be quiet."

Something in his face, his voice, made Danny remember the feeling of being pressed against the wall, disgusted by the man holding him there, by his hands and breath and what he'd wanted to do.

So he shut up, and let Mickey pull him away.

Walking out the door felt like walking into a wall, the cold destroying any lingering effects the alcohol might have been having. Pity, because it might have kept him a bit warmer, and might have helped him no what to say.

If Mickey would just look at him, he'd know. He'd be able to charm it all away and make it like it never happened. But he couldn't do that if Mickey was refusing to even acknowledge he existed.

Apart from the grip on his arm - now his forearm, but still just as tight, like Danny might run away if Mickey let go.

"Mickey?"

He hated the way his voice sounded, like he was asking for something. Which he was, technically, asking for Mickey to pay attention to him, but it didn't exactly do his image much good. So he tried again: "Mickey."

"What?"

Well, he had Mickey's attention. But now the other man had spun to face him, Danny forgot what he'd planned to say. "Um..."

And something about that just pissed Mickey off, and Danny found his head connected with another wall.

Would people just stop doing that?

But he didn't have time to complain before Mickey was up in his face, pressed against Danny, and the brick against his back might have been bloody freezing but Mickey was warm, and it was all Danny could do not to arch forward into him.

God knew how Mickey would respond to that.

"You don't have to protect me, you know," he said, which maybe wasn't exactly what he'd planned, but it would do. "I can take care of myself."

"Really? Because I haven't seen much evidence of that yet. To me, it looked like you needed my help.""

"Well, you'd have been wrong. You just had to come rushing in, because you never think I can handle anything."

"That's not true."

"You didn't think I could handle this! You went mad at the thought of me doing it, just because you - "

Mickey jerked him away from the wall, then slammed him back again with enough force to snap Danny's teeth together, cutting him of in mid-sentence. His head throbbed, but he couldn't raise a hand with Mickey keeping his arms pinned at his side.

Mickey didn't say anything, just stared at him. Danny tried not to feel unnerved, but Mickey stood so close he was all Danny could see, smell, feel...if Mickey fucked him, that would be a closer connection, but that also really wasn't something Danny should be thinking about.

Especially not with Mickey stood that close. With some things, it didn't matter how good a liar you were.

He didn't know whether to sigh in relief or disappointment when Mickey pulled back, dark eyes expressionless. "You did well. I misjudged. He should never even have invited us back to his house."

It took Danny a moment to work out that he was talking about the con, but he quickly forgot when Mickey leaned forward, closing his eyes. Danny closed his eyes more on instinct than anything else, then wished he hadn't when lips brushed his cheek.

But that was all, before cold air hit his chest and stomach and he looked up to realise that Mickey was half-way down the street already, and calling back for Danny to hurry up.

Danny peeled himself off the wall, following Mickey and trying to replay 'you did well' and the sensation of a soft kiss in his mind.