fic: the start of a beautiful friendship (yuletide, heist society, kat/hale)
Title: the start of a beautiful friendship
Author: empressearwig
Pairing/Fandom: Heist Society; Kat/Hale
Spoilers: None.
Rating: G
Word Count: ~1142
Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is all for fun. This hasn't happened. Yet. Etc.
Summary: "I'm the guy who happened to be home the night Kat came to steal a Monet."
Author's Notes: Written for Yuletide 2011. Many thanks to tosca1390.
In hindsight, Kat should have seen it coming.
When you think a job is going to be easy, it's the first sign that it won't be and in her family business, listening to signs was practically an article of faith. But no, Kat had wanted to do this and she'd wanted to it alone, and so she pushed ahead, ignoring the tingling down her spine that said that something was very wrong and that she should get out while she still could.
She ignored it all the way up until, as she tried to creep out undetected with a Monet in her hands, the room flooded with light. She blinked against the light, her eyes having grown used to the dark, and she saw a person sized shape in the archway that was the nearest exit. She blinked again and the shape became a teenage boy.
(A very, very hot teenage boy, Kat's brain noted against her will.)
As if sensing the direction her traitorous thoughts had gone, his mouth curved up in a smug smile. Kat refused to notice that it made him even better looking.
"Boo," said the boy.
Kat should have seen it coming.
*
Two weeks after the Monet job that wasn't, Kat was walking down Broadway in New York when she felt someone fall into step with her. She cut her eyes to the side and saw the last person she'd ever hoped to see again. It was him.
Kat stopped dead in her tracks, ignoring that she was in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.
"You," she said, the word sounding stupid even to her own ears.
"Me," he said, all affable agreement. Without asking, he took her by the elbow, steering her towards a coffee shop just a few yards away.
Kat let him. She didn't know why she let him, but she suspected it had something to do with shock. That was really the only explanation for why she also let him pull out a chair for her and why she let him push her down by the shoulders into the chair and why she let him order coffee for her without even a word of protest.
It was shock or she was distracted by him, and Kat preferred to think that she was above such things. Those things were better left to her cousin, Gabrielle.
Kat waited until after their waitress had deposited two still-steaming cups of coffee in front of them (along with her phone number, Kat noted with a sneer) to speak.
"How did you find me?" she asked, leaning forward and speaking in a hushed voice. "Why did you find me?"
He ignored her question and picked up his coffee, blowing across the top of the white ceramic mug. He took a testing sip, all the while eyeing her speculatively over the brim.
Kat didn't like that look at all.
He set the mug back down on the table and extended his hand. "I'm W.W. Hale the Fifth," he said. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
Kat looked down at his hand and then back up at his face. There was something in his eyes that said that the charming rogue act was just that -- an act, and that whatever this was, he was deadly serious. She shook his hand, trying not to notice the frisson of electricity that passed between them when their palms touched. It was harder to do than it should have been.
"And you are?" he prompted, not letting go of her hand.
She thought about using an alias, of slipping into one of the thousands of roles that were as familiar to her as her own skin, but somehow she knew that he'd know if she was lying. You can't con a conman, said the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her father, and Kat sighed.
"Kat Bishop," she said finally, attempting tugging her hand back. "Satisfied?"
He let her go, picking up his coffee cup once more. "For now," he said enigmatically. "You can call me Hale. That's what my friends call me."
Kat's eyebrows shot straight up at that. "And is that what we are? Friends?"
Hale shrugged. "You tell me." He leaned forward and dropped his voice so that it was just audible over the noise of the coffee shop. "Making a new friend seems like a small price to pay for me not calling the police about the attempted theft of my mother's favorite Monet. But it's up to you, Kat." He straightened in his chair, all traces of charm and good humor gone from his eyes. "You decide."
"That's blackmail," she managed to say despite the fact that her jaw was practically on the floor.
Hale nodded, the smug smile from the night they met firmly back in place. "I know."
Kat stared at him, utterly baffled. Hale stared at her, obviously expectant. Silence echoed loudly between them.
Kat didn't understand. What did a boy billionaire (because that's exactly what W.W. Hale the Fifth was or she wouldn't have been stealing from his mother) have to gain from a 'friendship' with a thief? A really good thief, Kat reminded herself, her performance where the Monet was concerned notwithstanding, she was an excellent thief. Unable to handle the strained silence any longer, Kat finally spoke.
"Why?" she asked.
Hale's mask slipped, just a little, just enough for Kat to see the uncertainty that he'd tried to keep so carefully hidden. He could act the part of entitled dilettante well enough, but underneath all of it, Hale was just a teenage boy who wanted something he wasn't sure he could have.
"I want to learn," Hale said, after what must have been a lengthy mental deliberation. "I want you to teach me."
Kat shook her head, frustrated. She'd already come to that conclusion on her own. Knowing that he wanted her to teach him how to be a thief wasn't what she needed to know. Wanting to know wasn't enough of a reason to teach someone, even with potential jail time on the line.
"Why?" she asked again. "Why?"
This time Hale seemed to get what she meant, and a fire lit in his eyes. "Because I could be good at it," he said simply. "I will be good at it. Because it would be fun." He shrugged his shoulders again, and a looks of faint embarrassment crossed his face. "Because I meant it about wanting to be your friend."
Kat couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her own face.
This was a terrible idea. Her father would kill her. Uncle Eddie would kill her. It was a horrible, stupid risk to bring someone like Hale into her world. She was insane.
Kat stretched her hand across the table. "Friends?"
Hale took her hand in his and grinned.
Author: empressearwig
Pairing/Fandom: Heist Society; Kat/Hale
Spoilers: None.
Rating: G
Word Count: ~1142
Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is all for fun. This hasn't happened. Yet. Etc.
Summary: "I'm the guy who happened to be home the night Kat came to steal a Monet."
Author's Notes: Written for Yuletide 2011. Many thanks to tosca1390.
In hindsight, Kat should have seen it coming.
When you think a job is going to be easy, it's the first sign that it won't be and in her family business, listening to signs was practically an article of faith. But no, Kat had wanted to do this and she'd wanted to it alone, and so she pushed ahead, ignoring the tingling down her spine that said that something was very wrong and that she should get out while she still could.
She ignored it all the way up until, as she tried to creep out undetected with a Monet in her hands, the room flooded with light. She blinked against the light, her eyes having grown used to the dark, and she saw a person sized shape in the archway that was the nearest exit. She blinked again and the shape became a teenage boy.
(A very, very hot teenage boy, Kat's brain noted against her will.)
As if sensing the direction her traitorous thoughts had gone, his mouth curved up in a smug smile. Kat refused to notice that it made him even better looking.
"Boo," said the boy.
Kat should have seen it coming.
*
Two weeks after the Monet job that wasn't, Kat was walking down Broadway in New York when she felt someone fall into step with her. She cut her eyes to the side and saw the last person she'd ever hoped to see again. It was him.
Kat stopped dead in her tracks, ignoring that she was in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.
"You," she said, the word sounding stupid even to her own ears.
"Me," he said, all affable agreement. Without asking, he took her by the elbow, steering her towards a coffee shop just a few yards away.
Kat let him. She didn't know why she let him, but she suspected it had something to do with shock. That was really the only explanation for why she also let him pull out a chair for her and why she let him push her down by the shoulders into the chair and why she let him order coffee for her without even a word of protest.
It was shock or she was distracted by him, and Kat preferred to think that she was above such things. Those things were better left to her cousin, Gabrielle.
Kat waited until after their waitress had deposited two still-steaming cups of coffee in front of them (along with her phone number, Kat noted with a sneer) to speak.
"How did you find me?" she asked, leaning forward and speaking in a hushed voice. "Why did you find me?"
He ignored her question and picked up his coffee, blowing across the top of the white ceramic mug. He took a testing sip, all the while eyeing her speculatively over the brim.
Kat didn't like that look at all.
He set the mug back down on the table and extended his hand. "I'm W.W. Hale the Fifth," he said. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
Kat looked down at his hand and then back up at his face. There was something in his eyes that said that the charming rogue act was just that -- an act, and that whatever this was, he was deadly serious. She shook his hand, trying not to notice the frisson of electricity that passed between them when their palms touched. It was harder to do than it should have been.
"And you are?" he prompted, not letting go of her hand.
She thought about using an alias, of slipping into one of the thousands of roles that were as familiar to her as her own skin, but somehow she knew that he'd know if she was lying. You can't con a conman, said the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her father, and Kat sighed.
"Kat Bishop," she said finally, attempting tugging her hand back. "Satisfied?"
He let her go, picking up his coffee cup once more. "For now," he said enigmatically. "You can call me Hale. That's what my friends call me."
Kat's eyebrows shot straight up at that. "And is that what we are? Friends?"
Hale shrugged. "You tell me." He leaned forward and dropped his voice so that it was just audible over the noise of the coffee shop. "Making a new friend seems like a small price to pay for me not calling the police about the attempted theft of my mother's favorite Monet. But it's up to you, Kat." He straightened in his chair, all traces of charm and good humor gone from his eyes. "You decide."
"That's blackmail," she managed to say despite the fact that her jaw was practically on the floor.
Hale nodded, the smug smile from the night they met firmly back in place. "I know."
Kat stared at him, utterly baffled. Hale stared at her, obviously expectant. Silence echoed loudly between them.
Kat didn't understand. What did a boy billionaire (because that's exactly what W.W. Hale the Fifth was or she wouldn't have been stealing from his mother) have to gain from a 'friendship' with a thief? A really good thief, Kat reminded herself, her performance where the Monet was concerned notwithstanding, she was an excellent thief. Unable to handle the strained silence any longer, Kat finally spoke.
"Why?" she asked.
Hale's mask slipped, just a little, just enough for Kat to see the uncertainty that he'd tried to keep so carefully hidden. He could act the part of entitled dilettante well enough, but underneath all of it, Hale was just a teenage boy who wanted something he wasn't sure he could have.
"I want to learn," Hale said, after what must have been a lengthy mental deliberation. "I want you to teach me."
Kat shook her head, frustrated. She'd already come to that conclusion on her own. Knowing that he wanted her to teach him how to be a thief wasn't what she needed to know. Wanting to know wasn't enough of a reason to teach someone, even with potential jail time on the line.
"Why?" she asked again. "Why?"
This time Hale seemed to get what she meant, and a fire lit in his eyes. "Because I could be good at it," he said simply. "I will be good at it. Because it would be fun." He shrugged his shoulders again, and a looks of faint embarrassment crossed his face. "Because I meant it about wanting to be your friend."
Kat couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her own face.
This was a terrible idea. Her father would kill her. Uncle Eddie would kill her. It was a horrible, stupid risk to bring someone like Hale into her world. She was insane.
Kat stretched her hand across the table. "Friends?"
Hale took her hand in his and grinned.