Fanfic: Tabling The Cake
Title: Tabling The Cake
Author: Amethyst Hunter
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and innuendo
Fandoms: Get Backers and hockey RPF. Birthday giftfic for the_con_cept. :)
Pairings: Ban/Akabane and Patrick/Matt. Special guest cameo by Gabe Landeskog.
Notes: Title is inspired by a hilarious quote from the coach himself. If you're an Avs fan, you'll get the joke. XD
- I hope I did this justice. Everything I Ever Learned About Patrick Roy I Learned From the_con_cept. I tried. ;)
Disclaimer: Standard happy fun disclaimer. I don't own GB, I don't own any of the Colorado Avalanche players or staff. All ficcing is just for amusement.
Summary: It's Patrick Roy's birthday and Matt Duchene wants to surprise him, but has lost a key component: the present. Ban is only too happy to help him find it - for a fee, of course. Meanwhile, Akabane makes a new friend...!
-
Ginji Amano had met a lot of people in his lifetime. He'd never met a hockey player before, so while Ban talked shop with the client - another hockey player - Ginji was introducing his guest to the pleasures of Honky Tonk cuisine. All on his dime, of course. Americans were oddly generous like that, and much to Ginji's delight Gabe The Babe, as he'd introduced himself, was quite delighted to join with him in the playing with food as well as the eating of it.
Ban, for his part, was content to ignore the boyish giggles and occasional spluts of desecrated food coming from the counter. He was not as pleased to learn what it was that he was being hired to recover. The Get Backers had taken on a lot of weird cases in their time. This one not only took the cake -
“So let me get this right again? We're looking for a cake in the shape of a - “
“Male anatomy,” Matt Duchene quickly said, his cheeks coloring a little.
“Of course it would be,” Ban muttered.
- it WAS the cake.
Matty coughed. He wished he'd thought to lock the hotel room door after all, but Gabe had convinced him that doing so was some kind of breach of manners here in this country. Something about 'losing face,' hence the casual disregard for locks. Matty had only given in when Gabe had told him he'd heard it from Patrick, and since Patrick's judgment was always to be trusted...
But still. He'd put in a lot of time making that cake, Patrick's favorite kind. And it had taken him hours to figure out how to shape and decorate the carefully-molded replicas of two pucks and a Stanley Cup. The pucks were Matt's invention - he'd written on them, in frosting, the dates of his and Gabe's first goals as Avalanche players. Gabe had come up with the idea of taking the Cup and putting it in between the pucks so that the entire set looked like a certain male protrusion. This had struck the both of them as hilarious, and Matty figured Patrick would likewise get a kick out of it - and probably something else as well.
He hated to think of his gloriously profane creation being devoured by anybody other than its intended recipient. That was why they were here now, attempting to negotiate with these raggle-taggle guys who claimed they could recover anything, obstacles be damned. The only thing keeping Matt rooted in his seat at present was the fact that the leader boasted a serious stare to match his own, albeit one that was pure ocean blue as opposed to tawny gold. Something about eyes just always hooked Dutchy. It was one of the reasons he'd fallen so hard for Patrick: that feral intensity quietly seething behind an otherwise placid expression.
Were he not with Patrick, and if his innate preference was for men in general, Matt could almost consider a guy like this - almost. For one thing, the cigarettes were a major turn-off. Couldn't play hockey when you were hacking up a lung. Besides, Matt sensed that this one was taken, and that any attempts at invitation would be met with a penalty the likes of which could put Patrick's own brawling prowess to shame. Earlier, neither he nor Gabe had missed the lethal way that the strange black-clad man had smiled at the retrieval leader before departing the cafe - or the matching serpentine grin that the leader had shot back at him.
Matt spoke. “I was made to understand that your service has a spotless reputation - “
“Almost spotless,” came the proprietor's voice from behind a newspaper at the counter. Ban shot Paul a dirty look.
Matt continued. “Your service claims it has the ability to 'get back' anything that's lost. I also heard that you'll take on unusual cases - “
This time Ban was the one to interrupt. “No thanks to Hevn.”
“ - so that's why we decided to come to you. Even though your asking price is a little - “
“Duchenerous?” offered Gabe with a sweet grin from where he and Ginji were having a volcano eruption with some mashed potatoes and melting butter. He'd coined the term after it became known that Coach Roy liked to pamper his players, particularly his favorites. Matty had developed something of a reputation himself after one too many massage therapy requests.
Both Matt and Ban glared at him. Gabe shrugged and went back to decorating Ginji's graham cracker fort with some olives.
Ban looked at Matty again. “You want the best, you're gonna pay for it. That's what your coach does, right? He shells out, you put out.”
Matt thought he heard a mumbled “and then some” from Gabe's direction, but he chose to focus on Ban instead.
“If you expect miraculous results from a half-assed investment, you'll end up sorely disappointed. We are the top recovery service in this land. You were smart to pick us instead of that freelancing chimperor you said you talked to first.”
“Shido's not that bad,” Ginji said as he used his fork to mow over Gabe's sushi fence. “But it's better that you came to us,” he added quickly, knowing who would get paid in beef stir-fry. “'Cause we're the one and only Get Backers!”
Matt shrugged. “Well, he had this mynah bird with him. I could just see it repeating things that Gabe taught him. Or Patrick teaching it to swear in Canadian French. I'm more of your basic cat and dog type.”
Ban snuffed out his dwindling cigarette. “The dog part I already have covered. My other half's gone down to the corner drugstore. I'll grab him and he can take us back to your hotel. He does an occasional transport run for one of the managers there, so maybe we can shake down somebody who's seen your...bakery goods.”
He got up and pointed at Ginji. “You, entertain the other client. You - “ he nodded at Matty - “follow me.” And they left Ginji and Gabe to the great war of the gelatin cubes.
The drugstore's sidewalk was littered with people checking out the sale ads or outdoor displays. Even so, there was no mistaking one large black hat wearer amidst the crowd. Ban was never sure whether to be thankful or not for Akabane's signature attire.
The transporter was having a conversation of his own, and Matt nearly yelped when he saw who the other person was. “Oh shit! I was hoping we could keep this a secret,” he groused when Ban raised a brow.
“That's the gift-getter?”
“Yeah.”
“No problem. Let me handle this.”
Ban picked up his stride and Matt followed, wondering again why he'd resorted to this 'retrieval' service, as it was called. As soon as they got within hearing distance, they were treated to (as Ban would later call it) a disturbingly amusing display of Bloody Brotherhood Bonding.
“ - so I tell my boys, 'it's time to put the balls on the table.' It's what the game is about, you know. Push the limit,” Patrick was telling a rapt Akabane. “If it come to a scuffle, you bring out your sack, pull what you got and let rip. Action, it make the show. The show is what everybody enjoy, eh?”
Akabane nodded. “Oh, I quite agree! That's why I take on the assignments I do. I like to have as much fun as possible on a job.”
“Yes, yes,” Patrick said with his typical grin. “I make my job fun because I like to win. And also I like the fight.”
“The fight is what makes it so good,” Akabane purred. “Especially if there's blood to spare.”
Patrick laughed. “There always is, in my profession.”
“Mine as well. But, really? You see a lot of it in professional athletics?”
Sly eyes danced with merriment that Matty was more than familiar with. “Well, the blood, it bounce when it hit the ice. If it's cold enough.”
Akabane was positively giddy at the idea. “Oh, that certainly must be a treat to see!”
Matt sent Ban a look that said I'm glad he's yours and not mine. Ban gave him one back that said wait until the fun really starts. And indeed, it did, as the conversation progressed:
“I have Bloody Rain.”
“I have Bloody Wednesday.”
“I like to stick people who get in my way.” Akabane held up a shiny blue spire. “With these.”
“As did I,” Patrick said. “I use my actual stick, though. How many trophies you win?”
“My trophies are the battles themselves. Yours?”
“Rings.” Patrick held up his hand and flashed some pieces of jewelry. “Great for sleep aids. Put them in ears, you never hear a thing, not even annoying people.” He patted one. “Also I share the Cup, with my boys, a few times. We get it back again soon. I want to see my Dutchy's name on it.”
“Oh, how interesting. I put my name on things too. Well, just the initial, actually.”
“What's your initial?”
“J. I'm known as the Jackal.”
“Funny, that. My middle name is Jacques.”
Akabane made a high-pitched sound that was part coo and part squeal as he clapped his gloved hands together. “Why, we have so much in common, don't we? It's so nice to meet someone who takes duels seriously for a change.”
Ban chose that moment to enter the fray. “And I don't? I believe I have a nice big shiv mark from that sword of yours.”
Akabane turned to him with a razored smile. “Well, it was your own fault for interfering. You ought to have known better than to interrupt my playtime.”
Patrick nodded. “It's never wise to interfere with the natural course of challenge. I take care of a few myself who done that.”
“I can vouch for that,” Matt agreed. He moved closer to Patrick and in a lower voice said, “Um, do you have any idea who this guy - “ he slanted a wary glance at Akabane - “is? Or what he does for a living?”
Patrick patted his shoulder. “Of course. Transporting is not so different from hockey.”
Ban looked at him. “How so?”
A dimple popped out on Patrick's cheek as he gave Ban a smug look. “Thrill of the hunt and chase. You take the goal before the other guy and nail him if he piss with you.”
“Huh.” Ban eyed him with a mixture of curiosity, wariness and grudging respect. “That's pretty close to what I do, actually...”
Patrick turned to Matt. “See, Dutchy? You gotta know how to speak the local language.” He bowed to Akabane, and then to Ban. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Formal introductions were made all around, which Ban acknowledged with a sharp nod of his head. Akabane was more polite. He took off his hat and bowed before replacing the covering. “Likewise, Duchene-san, Roy-san. I should be ever so pleased if we had the opportunity to meet again. Do please accept my card - “ he withdrew an elegant slip from a pocket of his coat, which he presented to Patrick with both hands - “and remember that you're welcome to call upon my services should you ever require a transport.” He smiled. “I am the best in the business, after all.”
Patrick rubbed his thumbs over the card, glancing at it before carefully putting it inside his own coat pocket. “But of course. We are both professional at what we do, Akabane-san.” He paused as if thinking something over, then said, “I wonder...perhaps you and your man like to come to our special international exhibition game this Tuesday night?”
Ban said, “Is it free?” at about the same time that Akabane answered with, “We'd be delighted to, Roy-san!”
Matt supposed he shouldn't be so surprised by the pair's reactions, but he still had to hold back a snort of laughter.
Patrick smiled and rummaged in his coat pockets again. He took out two pieces of paper and a pen, and wrote on the papers before handing them to Akabane. “VIP seating. You get the good view,” he explained, and then added with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “So close you taste the blood when the other guy lose his teeth!”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” Ban grumbled, not liking the way Akabane's face lit up. But he snatched the passes from Jackal anyway, glancing at them to be sure that their entry was indeed a freebie. If there was a sporting event, there would be concessions, and the best stuff was sure to be in the VIP section. He was pretty sure he could stuff a small army's hoard under his shirt - more if he could convince Akabane to let him make good use of his coat and/or hat - to tote back and split with Ginji.
Patrick slid a hand across Matt's shoulders. “Well, Dutchy? Shall we head back to the hotel and enjoy some of that nice, big cake you get me?”
Matt and Ban started, the former from surprise, the latter from realizing that his case was moot and no payment would be forthcoming if the intended client already knew about the missing present. “Wha - how did you know about that?” Matt mumbled.
“Silly boy.” Patrick ruffled his hair. “You think I can't smell good food hiding near our room? I know you work hard to please me,” he half-purred, half-growled. “When I walk in and see that box put on the table, I know what's mine. And I always take what belongs to me,” he chuckled, letting his hand slide down Matt's spine as his fingers deftly pinched a plump buttock. “It is my birthday, after all.”
“I sort of wanted it to be a surprise,” Matty said, hoping like hell he wouldn't get an erection here in broad daylight. He knew the Japanese were weird about sex, but he was pretty sure that public indecency wasn't tolerated any more here than it would have been back home.
“Of course I'm surprised. Pleasantly so, mon ange.” Patrick soothed, bringing his hand back up to tug on a few locks of Matt's hair by the back of his ear. “I hardly get cake these days. Much less cock-cakes. Doctor don't like my blood sugar,” he groused.
“Neither does the Mickey D's, but I don't see that stopping you, Casseu,” Matt teased, unable to resist. Patrick might be taking on slightly more of that classic middle-aged spread, but he was one of those lucky bastards who wore it well. Such was all in keeping with the way of the world and order of the universe - he was Saint Patrick Roy, patron king of the badasses, after all.
Patrick's eyes sparked at the old nickname; Matty was only one of a very select few whom he permitted that indulgence. ”Naturellement. I work off that extra gain plenty with you, eh, Dutchy?” He winked at Ban and Akabane. “Quite a job, keeping this one in line. Always hungry.”
“I understand. Why, satisfying Midou-kun's desires is a full-time job in itself,” Akabane said, neatly sidestepping the swat Ban aimed at him. “They are ever so demanding, you know.”
“Oui. But well worth the effort - if they please you, of course,” Patrick chuckled, his feral grin letting Matt know in no uncertain terms that he was indeed pleased, and that Matt would shortly have the further opportunity to do so again. “Well, messieurs, I hope you enjoy the game. We make sure you won't be bored!” He grasped Matt's forearm and tugged him along. “As for you, Dutchy, now is the time we put all the balls on the table, yes?” His face was full of wicked delight. “We gonna see how well that cake measure up to you...”
“Hold a sec.” Ban stepped forward, chewing on his unlit cigarette. “Speaking of ponying up, Dutch and I have a little matter to settle.”
Matt blinked. “We do?” He was still trying to process all the dirty details of what he and Patrick intended to do with that cake.
Ban wiggled his fingers at him. “Consultation fee. We may not have solved the case, but you did take up some of my valuable time. So like Coach here says, time to sack it up.”
Both Patrick and Matt stared at him. “How much?” Matt said.
“That'll be 5,430 yen. Big bills, small ones, doesn't matter what you've got as long as it's all good.” Ban tapped his foot.
Matt consulted his phone's currency translator app and scowled. “Fifty bucks for ten minutes' worth of conversation is too much. Besides, I think you just got your payment,” he said as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and gestured to the passes Ban had.
“Price just went up to 10,850 yen.” Ban swished the cigarette around. Behind him, Akabane hovered like a cat getting ready to pounce at the first hint of a squabble. “And birthday boy's the one who offered the freebies. I never had to ask.”
Matt started to voice his opinion of Ban's price hike when Patrick nudged him. “Ah, pay the man, Dutchy. You hired him, after all.”
“Yeah, and I can fire him too. He didn't do anything!”
“He took time to talk with you, eh?”
Before Matt could respond, Patrick moved closer to Ban. He was smiling, but his eyes had taken on a flinty gleam. “Tell you what. We give you 2713 yen for your time, and you get those passes, and everybody walk away happy. Otherwise I might have to recruit your man - “ he grinned at Akabane, who smiled back sweetly - “since he tell me he likes hockey so much. See, sometimes a player has to take a break, so we call in a backup, keep everybody fresh. Don't wanna disappoint you. You want to see a game, I understand. I could add a new professional to my boys and make sure we put on a real show. The crowd love a good entertainment - they come to see the fight, one way or another. Americans even have a saying for it - 'if it bleeds, it leads.' What do you think?”
Ban's eyes had narrowed. His lips thinned around the cigarette for a terse moment. “You're a hard sell, huh, Coach?” he finally said.
“I believe the term is more often pronounced as 'ball-buster' in my country,” Patrick said modestly.
“And an asshole,” Ban said.
Matt almost would have launched himself at the insolent retriever then, but Patrick just laughed. “Course I'm an asshole. I'm just your kind of asshole.”
His face split into relaxed amusement. After a moment more, so did Ban's, and he laughed as well.
“You're all right, Coach. You're all right. Give me a call if you're ever out this way again and need a retrieval service.”
“I remember that, Midou-san.” They shook hands after Patrick got Ban's phone number from him. Patrick gently slapped Matt's shoulder. “Dutchy? You made a contract,” he reminded.
Matt was annoyed that he had to be the one to cough up the money, but he supposed it was Patrick's way of telling him he ought to have known better than to bargain with a renegade agent. Balls on the table, as it were. And twenty-five bucks was better than a hundred. Reluctantly he counted out the bills and gave them to Ban, who didn't bother to hide the greedy delight in his face as he thanked Matty.
He even had the cheek to call out to Patrick as they left, “And happy birthday, Coach! Hope your present gives you lots and lots of pleasure!”
Matt had a feeling that he wasn't talking about the cake. He glanced at Patrick, and the smug gleam there confirmed it. “I'm certain it will give me its best,” he murmured for Matt's burning ears only.
As they walked away they could hear Akabane saying to Ban, “Americans are such interesting fellows, aren't they, Ban-kun? I wonder how exciting it must be, facing one on a hockey court...?”
Matt was quietly thankful he would never have to find out.
Author: Amethyst Hunter
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and innuendo
Fandoms: Get Backers and hockey RPF. Birthday giftfic for the_con_cept. :)
Pairings: Ban/Akabane and Patrick/Matt. Special guest cameo by Gabe Landeskog.
Notes: Title is inspired by a hilarious quote from the coach himself. If you're an Avs fan, you'll get the joke. XD
- I hope I did this justice. Everything I Ever Learned About Patrick Roy I Learned From the_con_cept. I tried. ;)
Disclaimer: Standard happy fun disclaimer. I don't own GB, I don't own any of the Colorado Avalanche players or staff. All ficcing is just for amusement.
Summary: It's Patrick Roy's birthday and Matt Duchene wants to surprise him, but has lost a key component: the present. Ban is only too happy to help him find it - for a fee, of course. Meanwhile, Akabane makes a new friend...!
-
Ginji Amano had met a lot of people in his lifetime. He'd never met a hockey player before, so while Ban talked shop with the client - another hockey player - Ginji was introducing his guest to the pleasures of Honky Tonk cuisine. All on his dime, of course. Americans were oddly generous like that, and much to Ginji's delight Gabe The Babe, as he'd introduced himself, was quite delighted to join with him in the playing with food as well as the eating of it.
Ban, for his part, was content to ignore the boyish giggles and occasional spluts of desecrated food coming from the counter. He was not as pleased to learn what it was that he was being hired to recover. The Get Backers had taken on a lot of weird cases in their time. This one not only took the cake -
“So let me get this right again? We're looking for a cake in the shape of a - “
“Male anatomy,” Matt Duchene quickly said, his cheeks coloring a little.
“Of course it would be,” Ban muttered.
- it WAS the cake.
Matty coughed. He wished he'd thought to lock the hotel room door after all, but Gabe had convinced him that doing so was some kind of breach of manners here in this country. Something about 'losing face,' hence the casual disregard for locks. Matty had only given in when Gabe had told him he'd heard it from Patrick, and since Patrick's judgment was always to be trusted...
But still. He'd put in a lot of time making that cake, Patrick's favorite kind. And it had taken him hours to figure out how to shape and decorate the carefully-molded replicas of two pucks and a Stanley Cup. The pucks were Matt's invention - he'd written on them, in frosting, the dates of his and Gabe's first goals as Avalanche players. Gabe had come up with the idea of taking the Cup and putting it in between the pucks so that the entire set looked like a certain male protrusion. This had struck the both of them as hilarious, and Matty figured Patrick would likewise get a kick out of it - and probably something else as well.
He hated to think of his gloriously profane creation being devoured by anybody other than its intended recipient. That was why they were here now, attempting to negotiate with these raggle-taggle guys who claimed they could recover anything, obstacles be damned. The only thing keeping Matt rooted in his seat at present was the fact that the leader boasted a serious stare to match his own, albeit one that was pure ocean blue as opposed to tawny gold. Something about eyes just always hooked Dutchy. It was one of the reasons he'd fallen so hard for Patrick: that feral intensity quietly seething behind an otherwise placid expression.
Were he not with Patrick, and if his innate preference was for men in general, Matt could almost consider a guy like this - almost. For one thing, the cigarettes were a major turn-off. Couldn't play hockey when you were hacking up a lung. Besides, Matt sensed that this one was taken, and that any attempts at invitation would be met with a penalty the likes of which could put Patrick's own brawling prowess to shame. Earlier, neither he nor Gabe had missed the lethal way that the strange black-clad man had smiled at the retrieval leader before departing the cafe - or the matching serpentine grin that the leader had shot back at him.
Matt spoke. “I was made to understand that your service has a spotless reputation - “
“Almost spotless,” came the proprietor's voice from behind a newspaper at the counter. Ban shot Paul a dirty look.
Matt continued. “Your service claims it has the ability to 'get back' anything that's lost. I also heard that you'll take on unusual cases - “
This time Ban was the one to interrupt. “No thanks to Hevn.”
“ - so that's why we decided to come to you. Even though your asking price is a little - “
“Duchenerous?” offered Gabe with a sweet grin from where he and Ginji were having a volcano eruption with some mashed potatoes and melting butter. He'd coined the term after it became known that Coach Roy liked to pamper his players, particularly his favorites. Matty had developed something of a reputation himself after one too many massage therapy requests.
Both Matt and Ban glared at him. Gabe shrugged and went back to decorating Ginji's graham cracker fort with some olives.
Ban looked at Matty again. “You want the best, you're gonna pay for it. That's what your coach does, right? He shells out, you put out.”
Matt thought he heard a mumbled “and then some” from Gabe's direction, but he chose to focus on Ban instead.
“If you expect miraculous results from a half-assed investment, you'll end up sorely disappointed. We are the top recovery service in this land. You were smart to pick us instead of that freelancing chimperor you said you talked to first.”
“Shido's not that bad,” Ginji said as he used his fork to mow over Gabe's sushi fence. “But it's better that you came to us,” he added quickly, knowing who would get paid in beef stir-fry. “'Cause we're the one and only Get Backers!”
Matt shrugged. “Well, he had this mynah bird with him. I could just see it repeating things that Gabe taught him. Or Patrick teaching it to swear in Canadian French. I'm more of your basic cat and dog type.”
Ban snuffed out his dwindling cigarette. “The dog part I already have covered. My other half's gone down to the corner drugstore. I'll grab him and he can take us back to your hotel. He does an occasional transport run for one of the managers there, so maybe we can shake down somebody who's seen your...bakery goods.”
He got up and pointed at Ginji. “You, entertain the other client. You - “ he nodded at Matty - “follow me.” And they left Ginji and Gabe to the great war of the gelatin cubes.
The drugstore's sidewalk was littered with people checking out the sale ads or outdoor displays. Even so, there was no mistaking one large black hat wearer amidst the crowd. Ban was never sure whether to be thankful or not for Akabane's signature attire.
The transporter was having a conversation of his own, and Matt nearly yelped when he saw who the other person was. “Oh shit! I was hoping we could keep this a secret,” he groused when Ban raised a brow.
“That's the gift-getter?”
“Yeah.”
“No problem. Let me handle this.”
Ban picked up his stride and Matt followed, wondering again why he'd resorted to this 'retrieval' service, as it was called. As soon as they got within hearing distance, they were treated to (as Ban would later call it) a disturbingly amusing display of Bloody Brotherhood Bonding.
“ - so I tell my boys, 'it's time to put the balls on the table.' It's what the game is about, you know. Push the limit,” Patrick was telling a rapt Akabane. “If it come to a scuffle, you bring out your sack, pull what you got and let rip. Action, it make the show. The show is what everybody enjoy, eh?”
Akabane nodded. “Oh, I quite agree! That's why I take on the assignments I do. I like to have as much fun as possible on a job.”
“Yes, yes,” Patrick said with his typical grin. “I make my job fun because I like to win. And also I like the fight.”
“The fight is what makes it so good,” Akabane purred. “Especially if there's blood to spare.”
Patrick laughed. “There always is, in my profession.”
“Mine as well. But, really? You see a lot of it in professional athletics?”
Sly eyes danced with merriment that Matty was more than familiar with. “Well, the blood, it bounce when it hit the ice. If it's cold enough.”
Akabane was positively giddy at the idea. “Oh, that certainly must be a treat to see!”
Matt sent Ban a look that said I'm glad he's yours and not mine. Ban gave him one back that said wait until the fun really starts. And indeed, it did, as the conversation progressed:
“I have Bloody Rain.”
“I have Bloody Wednesday.”
“I like to stick people who get in my way.” Akabane held up a shiny blue spire. “With these.”
“As did I,” Patrick said. “I use my actual stick, though. How many trophies you win?”
“My trophies are the battles themselves. Yours?”
“Rings.” Patrick held up his hand and flashed some pieces of jewelry. “Great for sleep aids. Put them in ears, you never hear a thing, not even annoying people.” He patted one. “Also I share the Cup, with my boys, a few times. We get it back again soon. I want to see my Dutchy's name on it.”
“Oh, how interesting. I put my name on things too. Well, just the initial, actually.”
“What's your initial?”
“J. I'm known as the Jackal.”
“Funny, that. My middle name is Jacques.”
Akabane made a high-pitched sound that was part coo and part squeal as he clapped his gloved hands together. “Why, we have so much in common, don't we? It's so nice to meet someone who takes duels seriously for a change.”
Ban chose that moment to enter the fray. “And I don't? I believe I have a nice big shiv mark from that sword of yours.”
Akabane turned to him with a razored smile. “Well, it was your own fault for interfering. You ought to have known better than to interrupt my playtime.”
Patrick nodded. “It's never wise to interfere with the natural course of challenge. I take care of a few myself who done that.”
“I can vouch for that,” Matt agreed. He moved closer to Patrick and in a lower voice said, “Um, do you have any idea who this guy - “ he slanted a wary glance at Akabane - “is? Or what he does for a living?”
Patrick patted his shoulder. “Of course. Transporting is not so different from hockey.”
Ban looked at him. “How so?”
A dimple popped out on Patrick's cheek as he gave Ban a smug look. “Thrill of the hunt and chase. You take the goal before the other guy and nail him if he piss with you.”
“Huh.” Ban eyed him with a mixture of curiosity, wariness and grudging respect. “That's pretty close to what I do, actually...”
Patrick turned to Matt. “See, Dutchy? You gotta know how to speak the local language.” He bowed to Akabane, and then to Ban. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Formal introductions were made all around, which Ban acknowledged with a sharp nod of his head. Akabane was more polite. He took off his hat and bowed before replacing the covering. “Likewise, Duchene-san, Roy-san. I should be ever so pleased if we had the opportunity to meet again. Do please accept my card - “ he withdrew an elegant slip from a pocket of his coat, which he presented to Patrick with both hands - “and remember that you're welcome to call upon my services should you ever require a transport.” He smiled. “I am the best in the business, after all.”
Patrick rubbed his thumbs over the card, glancing at it before carefully putting it inside his own coat pocket. “But of course. We are both professional at what we do, Akabane-san.” He paused as if thinking something over, then said, “I wonder...perhaps you and your man like to come to our special international exhibition game this Tuesday night?”
Ban said, “Is it free?” at about the same time that Akabane answered with, “We'd be delighted to, Roy-san!”
Matt supposed he shouldn't be so surprised by the pair's reactions, but he still had to hold back a snort of laughter.
Patrick smiled and rummaged in his coat pockets again. He took out two pieces of paper and a pen, and wrote on the papers before handing them to Akabane. “VIP seating. You get the good view,” he explained, and then added with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “So close you taste the blood when the other guy lose his teeth!”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” Ban grumbled, not liking the way Akabane's face lit up. But he snatched the passes from Jackal anyway, glancing at them to be sure that their entry was indeed a freebie. If there was a sporting event, there would be concessions, and the best stuff was sure to be in the VIP section. He was pretty sure he could stuff a small army's hoard under his shirt - more if he could convince Akabane to let him make good use of his coat and/or hat - to tote back and split with Ginji.
Patrick slid a hand across Matt's shoulders. “Well, Dutchy? Shall we head back to the hotel and enjoy some of that nice, big cake you get me?”
Matt and Ban started, the former from surprise, the latter from realizing that his case was moot and no payment would be forthcoming if the intended client already knew about the missing present. “Wha - how did you know about that?” Matt mumbled.
“Silly boy.” Patrick ruffled his hair. “You think I can't smell good food hiding near our room? I know you work hard to please me,” he half-purred, half-growled. “When I walk in and see that box put on the table, I know what's mine. And I always take what belongs to me,” he chuckled, letting his hand slide down Matt's spine as his fingers deftly pinched a plump buttock. “It is my birthday, after all.”
“I sort of wanted it to be a surprise,” Matty said, hoping like hell he wouldn't get an erection here in broad daylight. He knew the Japanese were weird about sex, but he was pretty sure that public indecency wasn't tolerated any more here than it would have been back home.
“Of course I'm surprised. Pleasantly so, mon ange.” Patrick soothed, bringing his hand back up to tug on a few locks of Matt's hair by the back of his ear. “I hardly get cake these days. Much less cock-cakes. Doctor don't like my blood sugar,” he groused.
“Neither does the Mickey D's, but I don't see that stopping you, Casseu,” Matt teased, unable to resist. Patrick might be taking on slightly more of that classic middle-aged spread, but he was one of those lucky bastards who wore it well. Such was all in keeping with the way of the world and order of the universe - he was Saint Patrick Roy, patron king of the badasses, after all.
Patrick's eyes sparked at the old nickname; Matty was only one of a very select few whom he permitted that indulgence. ”Naturellement. I work off that extra gain plenty with you, eh, Dutchy?” He winked at Ban and Akabane. “Quite a job, keeping this one in line. Always hungry.”
“I understand. Why, satisfying Midou-kun's desires is a full-time job in itself,” Akabane said, neatly sidestepping the swat Ban aimed at him. “They are ever so demanding, you know.”
“Oui. But well worth the effort - if they please you, of course,” Patrick chuckled, his feral grin letting Matt know in no uncertain terms that he was indeed pleased, and that Matt would shortly have the further opportunity to do so again. “Well, messieurs, I hope you enjoy the game. We make sure you won't be bored!” He grasped Matt's forearm and tugged him along. “As for you, Dutchy, now is the time we put all the balls on the table, yes?” His face was full of wicked delight. “We gonna see how well that cake measure up to you...”
“Hold a sec.” Ban stepped forward, chewing on his unlit cigarette. “Speaking of ponying up, Dutch and I have a little matter to settle.”
Matt blinked. “We do?” He was still trying to process all the dirty details of what he and Patrick intended to do with that cake.
Ban wiggled his fingers at him. “Consultation fee. We may not have solved the case, but you did take up some of my valuable time. So like Coach here says, time to sack it up.”
Both Patrick and Matt stared at him. “How much?” Matt said.
“That'll be 5,430 yen. Big bills, small ones, doesn't matter what you've got as long as it's all good.” Ban tapped his foot.
Matt consulted his phone's currency translator app and scowled. “Fifty bucks for ten minutes' worth of conversation is too much. Besides, I think you just got your payment,” he said as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and gestured to the passes Ban had.
“Price just went up to 10,850 yen.” Ban swished the cigarette around. Behind him, Akabane hovered like a cat getting ready to pounce at the first hint of a squabble. “And birthday boy's the one who offered the freebies. I never had to ask.”
Matt started to voice his opinion of Ban's price hike when Patrick nudged him. “Ah, pay the man, Dutchy. You hired him, after all.”
“Yeah, and I can fire him too. He didn't do anything!”
“He took time to talk with you, eh?”
Before Matt could respond, Patrick moved closer to Ban. He was smiling, but his eyes had taken on a flinty gleam. “Tell you what. We give you 2713 yen for your time, and you get those passes, and everybody walk away happy. Otherwise I might have to recruit your man - “ he grinned at Akabane, who smiled back sweetly - “since he tell me he likes hockey so much. See, sometimes a player has to take a break, so we call in a backup, keep everybody fresh. Don't wanna disappoint you. You want to see a game, I understand. I could add a new professional to my boys and make sure we put on a real show. The crowd love a good entertainment - they come to see the fight, one way or another. Americans even have a saying for it - 'if it bleeds, it leads.' What do you think?”
Ban's eyes had narrowed. His lips thinned around the cigarette for a terse moment. “You're a hard sell, huh, Coach?” he finally said.
“I believe the term is more often pronounced as 'ball-buster' in my country,” Patrick said modestly.
“And an asshole,” Ban said.
Matt almost would have launched himself at the insolent retriever then, but Patrick just laughed. “Course I'm an asshole. I'm just your kind of asshole.”
His face split into relaxed amusement. After a moment more, so did Ban's, and he laughed as well.
“You're all right, Coach. You're all right. Give me a call if you're ever out this way again and need a retrieval service.”
“I remember that, Midou-san.” They shook hands after Patrick got Ban's phone number from him. Patrick gently slapped Matt's shoulder. “Dutchy? You made a contract,” he reminded.
Matt was annoyed that he had to be the one to cough up the money, but he supposed it was Patrick's way of telling him he ought to have known better than to bargain with a renegade agent. Balls on the table, as it were. And twenty-five bucks was better than a hundred. Reluctantly he counted out the bills and gave them to Ban, who didn't bother to hide the greedy delight in his face as he thanked Matty.
He even had the cheek to call out to Patrick as they left, “And happy birthday, Coach! Hope your present gives you lots and lots of pleasure!”
Matt had a feeling that he wasn't talking about the cake. He glanced at Patrick, and the smug gleam there confirmed it. “I'm certain it will give me its best,” he murmured for Matt's burning ears only.
As they walked away they could hear Akabane saying to Ban, “Americans are such interesting fellows, aren't they, Ban-kun? I wonder how exciting it must be, facing one on a hockey court...?”
Matt was quietly thankful he would never have to find out.