roruna (roruna) wrote in no_true_pair, @ 2009-05-28 11:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 2009 kinks challenge, author: roruna, fandom: discworld, pairing: rust/vimes |
Cake Filling (Vimes/Rust)
Title: Cake Filling
Author/Artist: roruna
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing/characters: Vimes/Rust... I guess.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Rust is in this. I should think that would be warning enough. Night Watch spoilers.
Prompt/challenge you're answering: Vimes and Rust: their sexual rivalry for the same woman is actually desire for each other
For once there actually wasn’t an emergency that the Watch couldn’t handle without Sam. Sybil made sure of that. She’d had a Word with Carrot about it. So now Lady Sybil and Commander Vimes were at the palace along with other guild heads and assorted aristocracy for the Guild of Seamstresses’ Anniversary Dinner. The dinner portion was over and now everyone had migrated to the ball room for after dinner drinks. Sybil smiled as she watched her husband having a discussion with Ronnie. Ever since he’d gotten back from Klatch, he and Ronnie had made it a point to get in each other’s way and at least growl at each other. She glanced to Havelock and saw him with a waiter holding a tray of glasses. He nodded very slightly in Rust’s direction and the waiter walked away.
“Nice to see Vimesy didn’t run off before the soup this year.” Said Mrs. Palm behind Sybil. Sybil turned to Mrs. Palm and kissed her on both cheeks graciously. “Yes, it is. He finally got to see what he’s been missing.” They stood in silence watching Rust and Vimes. Mrs. Palm said very quietly and very amused, “Oh here it comes.” On cue, Vimes demanded, “What the hell did you just call me?!” Everyone turned to Vimes and Rust now. “I said you’re a gold digger, Vimes!” The crowd moved leaving a wide circle of empty space around the two men. Rust drew himself up and Sybil bit her lip to keep from laughing as he went into a diatribe about how absolutely everyone knew that Vimes had preyed on Sybil’s loneliness to get her money and how ridiculous it was that he still acted as if it wasn’t so.
Ronnie must be completely shit-faced (1) to talk like that in front of everyone, Sybil thought. Vimes looked livid and under that, embarrassed. Sybil wasn’t surprised to see Sam’s fists already balled. He opened his mouth, closed it again and turned around. The crowd made a path for him as he walked away from Ronnie and towards the large double doors that opened into the Palace gardens. Ronnie followed after him calling out, “Oh ho! Won’t defend your honor, eh? I knew I was right!” The crowd started to follow but two servants were already closing the double doors after Rust and Vetinari stood in front of them. “I think perhaps some fresh air would do Lord Rust and Commander Vimes a bit of good. But please,” Vetinari said in a firm tone, “stay. We’ll be having cake shortly.”
The crowd dispersed, shuffling their feet but with their ears nevertheless pricked, hoping that the inevitable shouting would carry into the ball room. Mrs. Palm shook her head, grinning at Sybil. “I don’t care if it is dumb and immature, there is nothing like two men fighting over you, eh?” Sybil’s brow wrinkled. “What?” Mrs. Palm nodded to the closed double doors. “That. Vimesy and Lord Rust.” Sybil shrugged dismissively. “I don’t think they’re fighting over me. Anyway, if Ronnie really felt anything for me, he had plenty of opportunity to say so before I got married. It’s not like we haven’t known each other forever.” Mrs. Palm thought about this and nodded a little. “I guess. And it’s not like they haven’t fought since I’ve known them. Do you know that Vimesy tried to shoot Lord Rust once? This was oh… almost thirty years ago, on the Glorious 25th of May.”
Sybil laughed out loud. “That’s not true.” She said with a wide smile. Mrs. Palm nodded emphatically. “It is. Sergeant Colon told me. He was there. See, Rust ordered the lads to shoot arrows over this barricade and Keel said not to and then Rust drew his sword at Keel. And that’s when Vimesy said that he’d shoot Rust if he didn’t put his sword away.” Sybil kept her mouth covered stifling a laugh. “Then what?” Mrs. Palm paused trying to remember. “Then Keel knocked Rust out and locked him up.” Sybil nodded feeling slightly relieved that Sam didn’t actually have to act on his threat. Mrs. Palm sighed suddenly. “’Course after everything was over and the lads let Rust out, he gave Vimesy thirty lashes in the watch house’s stable yard, in front of everyone.”
Sybil looked down then in a slightly distant tone, Mrs. Palm said, “Kinda sexy really.” Sybil almost asked Mrs. Palm what she meant and then the penny dropped. A mental image of Ronnie just after he was promoted to captain settled itself into Sybil’s mind. Ronnie had been rather dashing in those days and so long as he didn’t talk too much, he could have his pick of any of the debs in the city. Then she thought about Sam. As a gift and a joke, one of Sam’s sisters sent Sybil some old black and white iconographs of Sam. The oldest one was taken when he was seventeen or eighteen. He was already in the Night Watch. He was gangly, sullen and absolutely adorable. He’d been skinny but not delicate. He just hadn’t grown into his ears or something and even now, Ronnie towered over Sam.
It was so easy for Sybil to picture Lance-Constable Vimes staring up at Captain Rust in adolescent defiance and giving him a piece of his mind. It was just as easy to picture Captain Rust giving the skinny lad a good lashing. She looked at Mrs. Palm who was doing a very bad job of suppressing a leer. “Sorry.” She said, still grinning. “I’m not used to the idea of whips being used in anger…” She paused. “At least real anger. Violence and sex have always traveled hand in hand.” That did it for Sybil. She could close her eyes and the scenario played itself out. A rope was slung over a beam in the stable yard in the Treacle Mine Road watch house and Sam’s hands were tied over his head. Ronnie gave him the thirty lashes and then stood in front of the worn and skinny lad.
Sam would look up at Ronnie in awe and in apprehension. Ronnie would raise his hand and instead of striking Sam’s face as Sam would probably expect, he’d stroke his cheek or maybe his hair. Then Ronnie would bend down a little and kiss Sam with warmth and tenderness. “I didn’t do this to be cruel, my lad.” Ronnie would say with the utter conviction of the arrogant and the unimaginative, “I did this because I don’t want you to stray from the proper path.” Then Sam would stare at Ronnie as the grief and loneliness, he had just lost his mentor after all, finally sunk in. He’d nod finally understanding and let Ronnie comfort and dominate him. For the first time all day, Sam’s heart wouldn’t feel so heavy because now he had a new master and superior.
Mrs. Palm watched Sybil’s dreamy expression knowing full well what the woman was thinking. She chuckled and suddenly there was a heavy thunk, not surprisingly from the Palace gardens. The double doors flew open and Vimes and Rust tumbled back into the ball room. And because the Discworld is held together by Narrativium, the large cake, about as tall as a man, had just been wheeled in. Vetinari was stepping forward to slice the cake when Rust and Vimes crashed into the table holding the cake. The cake tumbled onto the floor and the two men. Vetinari stood by the table quite untainted. Not a speck of frosting on any of his clothes. (2)
Rust threw a glop of cake at Vimes. Vimes kicked him in the fondant. After about a minute of this, Vetinari stepped forward using his cane to keep from slipping in the mess of cake and frosting. Then he tapped his cane on the floor once, this small and quite faint sound surprisingly rung out through the ball room silencing everything. Rust and Vimes froze in mid strangulation then looked up at Vetinari. “I think that’s quite enough, gentlemen.” Vetinari said mildly. He made eye contact with Sybil very briefly then said, “Perhaps your wives should take you home now and get you cleaned up.” Rust and Vimes nodded like little children who’d just been scolded by the teacher. Sybil strode to Vimes and took his arm leading him out of the ball room. As they walked to the Ramkin coach, Vimes said, “I know that grin.” Sybil looked perplexed. “What grin, dear?”
Vimes stared for a moment and then said almost accusingly, “That grin. The grin that says, in no uncertain tones, that when we get home, you’re going to lick all the frosting off me.” Sybil looked up at the sky innocently. “I was really looking forward to having some cake but you got us thrown out of the party. I’d be a shame to waste perfectly good frosting.” Vimes glared at her for awhile then he smirked. “I didn’t know that cake made you hot. Or is it posh shindigs?” Sybil shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him that it was seeing him fight with an ex-suitor of hers. She knew she shouldn’t encourage that sort of thing. Perhaps she should say that it was the posh parties, maybe it would compel him not to run away in the future. She removed a blob of marzipan from his cheek with a finger and licked it with delight as Sam watched her.
(1) Pardon her Klatchian.
(2) Because Narrativium is not that stupid.