Work Text:
Jim grinned as Brian’s loud laughter rang through the night air. Brian’s mirth was positively contagious, and Jim stole a glance up at the blonde. Brian was standing up in the convertible as it sped way past speed limits on an empty Nevada highway, laughing at the wind blowing over them and, because he knew Brian, just the world in general.
The rest of their posse had shunned Brian – they claimed too reckless, too loud and too proud to be a criminal, that he’d get them all caught. Jim snorted and stepped on the gas, causing Brian to laugh in delight. It was exactly Brian’s recklessness, his loudness and pride that kept them from getting caught.
“Jimbo.” Brian called down. “Better slow down. Cops in the distance.”
Jim gradually slowed down, but Brian didn’t bother coming down from his post, and they were pulled over anyway. Brian grinned at them as two tired and frustrated looking cops trudged over. “Son, you’re supposed to be buckled down when you’re in a car.”
Brian smiled brilliantly. “Sorry, I know. But it’s such a nice breeze out here and it feels so free, you know?”
Jim leaned back as Brian’s bright grin worked its magic and the officer smiled slightly. “It is nice, you’re right. What’re two guys doing out on a highway this late?”
“Coming home from Vegas!” Brian grinned, sitting back down and buckling up obediently. Jim knew for a fact that the seatbelt was going to be off the moment they were out of sight. “We took a little too many breaks in the middle.”
The other officer chuckled, and Jim knew it was game over already. Both of them were going to let them go without a ticket. “How long have you two been here, officer? Must suck to have a post out here.” He reached behind and picked up the two sandwich bags. “Do you two mind Subway? The two of us can go grab something later, but if you don’t mind Subway, I’d like you two to take this.”
It took the cops about fifteen more seconds to let them go with a hearty laugh. Brian leaned back, snickering as he threw his legs up. “Retards.” He snorted. “Flash them a pretty smile, and they do anything for you.”
“It’s because it’s your pretty smile.” Jim pointed out. “If only they knew the pretty blonde boy they just let go was the Bonnie everyone in the world wants to catch.”
“Why am I Bonnie, anyway? How come you get to be Clyde and I have to be Bonnie?” Brian rolled his eyes and reached to the back seat to grab the newspapers. The front page held the bold words, Bonnie and Clyde strike again! Their most recent bank robbery had been in Las Vegas – one of their boldest moves yet, considering Las Vegas boasted an impressive security team thanks to the casinos on top of the normal LVMPD. And yet they’d managed to drive out, without much problems at all – at least, not with the police. With 1,000,000 in cash in their trunk.
All because everyone thought the famous bank robbery couple was a man and a woman. It had all started when Brian had gotten the brilliant idea to swipe a long-haired wig and kiss Jim while escaping a bank heist. As Brian had expected, about a million and a half cameras had taken a photo – and because it was perfectly calculated, with Brian’s height and hips and thin legs and long flowing blonde hair, it looked like he was a woman. Jim’s own face was completely obscured, and since then every cop in the nation had been looking for “Bonnie and Clyde.”
“You did it to yourself.” Jim snickered. “Wanna check in for the night?”
Brian nodded, grinning at Jim. “Yeah, let’s just crash into the nearest motel. I’m hungry, too. Can’t believe you gave them our dinner. My flirting was going to be perfectly enough to get us out of that.”
“Hey, they’re hard workers. We should give ‘em some award.”
“Yeah, hard workers who let Bonnie and Clyde go from right under their nose.” Brian snorted and pointed to a rapidly passing highway sign. “There’s a motel next exit. Damn, I’m gonna be happy as fuck when we get home.”
“Relax, we’ll be home tomorrow.” Jim grinned. “We should spoil ourselves. It’s our six-year anniversary, we just had our most successful heist, and we’ve got more than enough to live filthy rich if you combine all our separate bank accounts. That’s not even considering all the money we have in cash. It’s sort of what happens when you go bank robbing with Brian Gamble and he’s the best fucking mastermind there is.”
Brian sighed contently. “I bet those fuckers who thought I was too much of a risk would regret it now.” He smirked and stretched. “We really should spoil ourselves. Go to Vegas to actually gamble or something. I rock at Blackjack.”
Jim smiled and nodded. Brian was an expert Blackjack player – he was incredibly good at it not only because he was a genius and could keep track of every card in eight decks, but also because good luck followed Brian Gamble everywhere. It was also one of the reasons why all of their bank heists went so smoothly. Jim had stopped thinking, holy crap, that was some intensely good luck, and started to just accept that it was something that just happened with Brian around.
Jim checked into the motel – they didn’t say anything when he paid them in cash – and carried all the luggage while Brian slipped into the room, sticking his tongue out at Jim. Jim rolled his eyes but said nothing and tossed the bags into the closet.
Brian slid into the shower, and Jim knew he was expected to find dinner somehow at the ungodly hour of 1:30 AM. He made his way down to the lobby, asked the concierge (somehow he thought concierge was too fancy of a name for the run-down desk and the sleepy-looking obviously underage part timer) if there was anything open, and made a quick drive down to the nearest Wendy’s.
It took a total of twenty five minutes, and when he got back, the shower was still running. He rolled his eyes and picked the lock open. “Brian, I brought food. You wanna get out of the shower already?”
“Mm.” Brian stuck his head around the thankfully-clean shower curtain and grinned. “Wanna join me?”
“Tempting, but no. I bought Wendy’s. It’s gonna get cold, and cold fast food is never good.”
Brian rolled his eyes and snickered. “Fine, fine. Gimme thirty seconds. You know, most guys would jump for a chance at shower sex.”
Jim grinned. “That’s for most guys. Most guys don’t have a feisty little blonde for a boyfriend who likes sex as much as they do. I can get sex whenever I want. Food actually requires more work for me to get. Not to mention I’m hungry.”
Brian laughed as he shut off the water and then, without warning, tackled Jim. Thankfully, Jim had known Brian for long enough to predict it so he caught Brian, but Brian’s weight and force behind the tackle made them crumble down to the floor, Brian dripping wet from the shower and straddling Jim, grinning down at him. “Mm. I think the problem with you is, you’re immune to me.”
Jim couldn’t help but mirror Brian’s grin. “Bri, no one is immune to you. Least of all me.” He sat up, bringing his arms up to keep Brian from sliding off. “In fact, I’m the person that the least immune to you. And you know that.” He kissed Brian’s grin and they sat smiling at each other, ignoring the fact that Brian was soaking Jim through his clothes. “Now come on. Let’s eat.”
Brian laughed. “I think you just proved my point.” Nonetheless, he sat obediently and let Jim dry him off. Jim sometimes wondered on the many faces of Brian Gamble. During a bank heist, he was the cold, calculating mastermind that never smiled and barely spoke. His face was calculatingly expressionless for the entire heist, unreadable to everyone but Jim. And sometimes even Jim had a difficult time reading it. Then when he was talking to everyone else, Brian Gamble became the notorious “Slut Gamble,” as their previous posse had dubbed it. Brian was sex on legs, with his sultry smile, cheeky pout and well-timed pivots of his hips. Brian had gotten the pair of them out of incredibly tight situations by just flirting with people. All Brian needed to do was smile lazily, sometimes throw in a little pout, and guns that had been drawn in bad gang brawls would be put away.
And then there was the Brian Gamble that only Jim knew. That one was the one sitting on his lap right now, trusting Jim to do anything and everything for him. If Jim told anyone that the real Brian, not Brian the bank robber or “Slut Gamble,” but just plain Brian Gamble, was actually the very picture of innocence, he’d be laughed at.
But he knew. Brian looked up at him through the cheap brown motel towel and his aquamarine eyes shone happily. “Hey, Bri.” Jim said softly, pushing the towel off Brian’s mop of dirty blonde hair down to his shoulders. “I love you.”
Brian smiled. And it wasn’t the one he flashed at muscular guys or obese police officers in an attempt to get away. It was the smile that Brian reserved for Jim and Jim only, the one that was all trust and happiness and warmth. “Yeah. Yeah, Jimbo. I love you, too.”
Jim laughed and Brian echoed his laughter when Jim stood up, picking Brian up easily with him. Brian’s legs wrapped around his waist and he put his face down into the crook of Jim’s neck. “I smell like sweat.”
“No.” Brian corrected, his breath ticking Jim’s neck. “You smell like Jim.”
Jim grinned broadly and let Brian down on the bed next to the bag of Wendy’s. Their previous moment was forgotten as both men dug into the food. Brian tore the paper bag open and spread the fries out on them, and snatched the cheeseburger. Jim rolled his eyes as Brian settled himself on the bed, eagerly munching on the burger. “I thought you wanted to have shower sex,” he teased.
Brian snickered. “I did. But now I’m hungry.” He swallowed audibly and winked at Jim. “Jim, I don’t think I could do anything without you.”
Jim snorted. “I agree.” They were joking about it, but he was always secretly worried. Brian acted like he could do everything, but he couldn’t. He had a driver’s license but never drove. He hated ordering at any kind of restaurant, so he’d pick out whatever he wanted and blinked owlishly at Jim as Jim ordered for the two of them. Jim couldn’t remember the last time Brian had stepped out of the shower after drying himself, and he couldn’t remember the last time Brian had done anything by himself other than plan a bank heist. “Hey, Bri.” He swallowed the last of his burger and reached for his second. “What would you do if I got caught?”
“Won’t happen.” Brian replied immediately.
“Let’s pretend it did. Pretend I got caught and you got away.”
“Jimbo, I wouldn’t run away like that.”
Jim scowled. “I’d damn make you. You wouldn’t survive ten minutes in prison.” He bit into his burger. “And I wouldn’t be able to protect you in it, either. Anyway, let’s say I got caught and you got away. Would you be able to take care of yourself?”
Brian crumbled the wrapper in his fist. “Nope. So don’t even think about getting caught, Jimbo.” Jim bit into his burger. Brian was joking around, he knew, but all the same Jim wasn’t planning on testing his worries. Brian ate half of his second burger and Jim finished it, but Brian hogged most of the fries. The greased up paper bag along with used ketchup and honey mustard packets were stuffed in the trashcan, and Brian ushered Jim toward the shower.
“Gonna join me?”
“I’m sleepy.”
“Come in with me. You can just sit on the tile.” Brian nodded and followed along. He plopped down on the tile and watched Jim undress, and whistled lowly. “I know I’m hot.” Jim grinned playfully, and Brian laughed. Jim ran through the shower quickly, not even bothering to close the shower curtain, and when he shut off the water Brian was waiting for him with a towel.
They laughed on the way to bed and fell into the standard cheap, too-plush-for-actual-comfort motel bed and Brian sighed as he burrowed into Jim’s side. “We’ll be home soon, huh?” He said, his voice heavy with sleep. Jim glanced at the clock behind Brian’s head. It read 2:41 AM. He pushed his arm under Brian’s head and Brian smiled drowsily.
“Yeah, home.” Jim whispered softly, running his fingers through short blonde hair. “You gonna like that?”
“Yeah.” Brian breathed, his eyes closed. “We haven’t been home in weeks.” Jim laughed lightly in response and waited until Brian’s breathing evened out completely before letting his own eyes slide shut and allowing Brian’s soft breathing to lull him to sleep.
Jim woke up first at exactly 10. He carefully slid his arm out from under Brian and tested it. It hadn’t fallen asleep – Brian and he had mastered the exact position that would be comfortable for both of them. He quickly checked the yellowing notecard on the door, and, noting that checkout was at 11, set the alarm at 10:45.
He climbed back into bed as quietly as he could and slid his arm back under Brian’s head. Brian frowned lightly and stirred but didn’t wake, and Jim allowed himself to smile lightly. He knew what people thought of bank robbers. The image of them had to be the burly, ugly bad guys, who lived most of their life drinking and smoking. He wondered if they would ever picture two guys lying in bed quietly together, just enjoying each other’s presence. He smiled and doubted it. But that was just as fine, because, as Brian always pointed out, it meant more of a chance of them not getting caught.
He must have dozed off, because when the alarm rang, he flinched awake and felt Brian do the same. They laughed at each other and Jim ushered Brian into the bathroom. “We have 15 minutes until checkout.”
“Plenty of time.” Brian took the toothbrush Jim handed him and squeezed white toothpaste onto it. They took exactly 12 minutes to brush their teeth, wash their face and pick up the bags (they hadn’t unpacked anything). Brian waited in the car as Jim ran to check out, and when Jim jumped into the driver’s seat, stretched and grinned lazily. “No one stole our car.”
“Yeah, well, that’d be something. Stealing from Bonnie and Clyde.” Jim snickered. He pulled the cover of the convertible up to cover them and reached over to buckle Brian in. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, come on.”
Brian snickered in his throat. “You mean you’ve got a long drive.”
“Right, right.” Jim laughed. He reached over to take Brian’s hand and tangle their fingers together. Brian grinned and held their hands in his lap, looking contently out the window. It wasn’t until the sun had set that the lights of Los Angeles and its surrounding cities sparkled up ahead.
Brian fell asleep again, curled up in a way that Jim was convinced must have been uncomfortable for anyone but Brian Gamble. He kept Jim’s hand in his lap but was otherwise curled up with his back to the car door and legs drawn up to his chest, his head leaning on the window. And the seatbelt was somehow twisted around him without choking him. Jim embedded the picture to his brain before he tapped Brian’s stomach with the hand that was cradled to it. “Hey, babe.” He cooed softly. “Home, straight up ahead.”
Brian’s eyes flew open and he twisted his head to look out the windshield. Brian grinned at the familiar surroundings around them. “Hey, this is my town.” Brian grinned sleepily. “I missed you, home.” Indeed, Jim thought, as pulled into the driveway of the home they owned.
Brian almost danced into the house, unlocking it with fluid grace before he slid inside. Jim dumped their bags on the couch and Brian sighed as he pushed Jim into the loveseat and curled up on his lap. “You slept the entire ride here.” Jim laughed softly. “You’re still sleepy?” Brian stuck his tongue out and tilted his head so he could kiss Jim.
Jim lifted Brian up in his arms and walked both of them to their bed. Brian groaned in satisfaction when Jim dropped him on it. “Man, that bed last night sucked.” He stretched, his body pulling taut for a few moments before he sat back up. “Jimbo, brings the bags over.”
Jim slid out into the living room and was back with the two bags in tow. He dropped one into Brian’s lap and the others onto the floor. “It’s a bit heavy.”
“Yeah, could’ve warned me before you dropped it onto my lap.” Brian rolled his eyes. He wiggled out of his jeans and shirt and Jim tossed a pair of thin sweatpants that he could ease into. He zipped the large bag open and whistled. “Fucking awesome.” He pulled out the wads carefully, stacking each one on top of each other. Jim knew he was keeping count in his head, even if he was pulling everything out nonchalantly. When he was done, he snickered. “Two hundred stacks. Fifty bills in each, and every single one of them a Benjamin.” He snickered at the bills on their bed. “Damn, Jimbo. Damn. How the fuck did we manage this by ourselves?”
“By about quadruple-crossing almost every gang in Las Vegas.” Jim snorted. “And making them think everyone else crossed each other.”
“Aka because I’m a goddamned genius.” Brian said proudly. Jim agreed silently. The entire heist had taken almost a full year of planning on Brian’s part. He had gotten to known gang leaders, had befriended them (Jim knew there was some sort of sex involved but hadn’t bothered to ask Brian about it), and then had taken a complicated series of actions where everyone believed the money had been lost, and that they had all been crossed by each other. It had taken about two months after the actual money had been stolen for Jim and Brian to leave Las Vegas, and Jim still didn’t know how it had happened. He gave the credit mostly to Brian’s genius and his luck.
Jim picked up a stack of fifty. “One million dollars in cash.” He whistled. “All right, enough staring, let’s put it away.” Brian nodded and leaned back as Jim got to work. This is what Jim proudly called his magic. The various furniture in the entire house was riddled with bills stuffed inside them in a way no one could ever find them. Brian had first suggested compartments, but Jim had pointed out large compartments of any sort were always found out easily. So Jim had gone around installing compartments that were barely an inch thick within the walls of closets and couches and under beds. First Brian had been skeptical that they’d ever get space, but Jim had put it to work and it had worked.
And just as Jim slid the last compartment into place and securely hid it, there was a knock on the door. “Shirt off, Jimbo.” Brian whispered. “You look sweaty enough to have had sex.” Jim tossed the shirt over to a careless corner as Brian slid his sweatpants and boxers off.
Jim opened the door and smiled cheekily at the two men. “Word sure travels fucking fast, don’t it?” He stepped aside for the pair to walk in. One of them shot him a dirty look and Jim only grinned.
“You fags fucking again?”
Brian appeared from the bedroom, wearing nothing but Jim’s oversized shirt. Brian was doing it on purpose, Jim knew, and it was working. “Yeah, fucking again.” Brian smirked. “Hey, Walt, tell me. If we’re fags cause we’re fucking each other, what does that make you? You’re getting a hard-on looking at me. And I know you fantasize about fucking me every night. Can’t get off otherwise, can you?”
The blonde growled and raised his hand to his pocket, but Jim stopped him. “Let’s not make this messy, boys. You know if I call the cops, they’ll be on our side, not yours. It sort of comes with being a law-abiding citizen.”
The black-haired man snorted. “Shut the fuck up, Street. You aren’t any more law abiding than we are.”
“I think the police will tell you otherwise.” Brian drawled. “What the fuck does your boss want from us, anyway?”
“He wants to know how much you made in Vegas.” The blonde took a step closer to Brian. Jim crossed the room to stand in between them.
Brian snorted. “How much we made in Vegas is our own business. Tell him to fuck off.”
The black-haired one smiled coldly. “You’re stepping out of line, you little whore. You wanna get fucked up badly? We could tie you up and fuck you bad. You wanna scream when I shove my cock up your ass?”
“Enough.” Jim snapped. “Leave before I call the cops.” He kept a cool voice as he reached for his phone. “We spent everything we made in Vegas because we knew you fuckers would be harassing Brian like this. Not get the fuck out of here and don’t show your face around ever again.” The two flipped him the bird but left, slamming the door. Jim turned to Brian. “You okay?”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Jim. It’s not the first time they threatened to fuck me.” He shrugged and tilted his head to the bedroom. “So can we actually fuck now?”
Jim chuckled and pushed Brian ahead before locking the door. He found Brian ready for him, his legs spread and the shirt gone somewhere off to the side. “Mm.” Jim chuckled. “Wanna stay like that for me?”
“Come fuck me already.” Brian laughed, and Jim was too glad to oblige.
--
Their time in home was quiet, uneventful, even with the gang almost constantly hovering over them. Brian and Jim had long learned to ignore it because they didn’t do much but exactly that – hover and threaten. Before long, Jim saw Brian with a handful of blueprints and papers that he was scrawling on, which meant he was planning another bank heist. “Did you know we were in Miami?” Brian said one day, sipping coffee.
“What?”
“Look.” Brian held the first page of the Los Angeles Times to him. In bold letters, it read, Bonnie and Clyde (?) caught in Miami. Jim burst out laughing, and Brian joined in. “We’re not in Miami, are we?”
Jim put the pancakes down in front of Brian. “Nope.” He laughed. “We’ve got people trying to be us now?” He sat next to Brian and read over his shoulder. “They got caught, huh? Not too great of an imitation, are they?”
“Sucks balls for them. The girl isn’t even that hot.”
“Why is there a question mark behind Bonnie and Clyde?”
“The police don’t think it’s them. Because they’re obviously dumb.” Brian snorted as he passed Jim the newspaper. “At least the police have some respect for us. I’d never get us caught.”