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Chapter Text

When the entire economy crashes and burns in the fall of 2008, Danny Ocean is doing alright.

Financially, that is. He is doing alright, financially.

Sure, he loses a couple hundred thousand in stocks other people told him to buy to the whims of the ever fickle and vindictive market, but being a professional thief means his retirement plan has always been stacks of gold bars stashed in various basements and bundles of cash stuffed under various proverbial mattresses. He never really thought that safehouses would end up to be more profitable for him than proper real estate assets, but sometimes things work out that way. He decides against telling Reuben I told you so given the situation.

Danny has never been one for watching the news, but lately, he can’t take his eyes off the glossy 24-hour coverage of the whole thing. As someone who deals exclusively in liquid assets, nothing feels less real to him than the idea that a piece of paper with a promise of future payout should mean something to anyone. Money locked behind anything is only as good as what you can take.

But Danny’s career is… unusual, to say the least, and the rest of the world runs on this abstract stuff. Now, it’s falling apart.

The people I steal from have insurance is what keeps cropping up in his mind. It’s honestly kind of trite. Not worth saying aloud to anyone.

.

Two cops are dragging Danny out of the Bellagio Hotel and Casino. An elbow digs into his shoulder on one side; on the other, he’s pulled down into a hunch that makes it hard to walk. The casino is loud and confused, which is probably in some part his fault.

Despite all of that, he can hear her voice loud and clear.

“Stop! Danny! Wait!”

The cops, of course, don’t let him stop, but she catches up with them at the car as Danny is shoved inside. Some reunion with his wife, this has been.

“Please,” she says to the cops, tears in her eyes. “Terry Benedict sent me. You have to let me talk to him. Just for a minute.”

Surprisingly, they concede to her request and roll Danny’s window down. He takes in a deep breath of the smoke-laden Vegas air, for posterity, and looks at her, waiting.

“Danny,” she says, carefully. “Tell me this is it.”

“This is what?”

“The end of you being a criminal. Lying to me. Leaving me alone to spend years in jail.”

“It’s the end of me lying to you,” Danny says.

She stares at him, hardened and sorry at the same time. The same way she looked after she paid his bail four years ago. “That’s not enough.”

Danny nods, heart in his throat. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

The cops start rolling up his window again. “Goodbye, Tess.”

“G—“ He doesn’t hear her say it, but he knows.

.

He moved back to Jersey after everything with Bank went down. Tess has been working as an art history professor at some prestigious New York university or another for the past few years, and she managed to pull some strings and get him a gig teaching pre-law at a local community college. It must’ve been bad, for his ex-wife to be willing to lie about his qualifications like that.

Honestly, he enjoys the work more than he expected. It gives him something to do, and he didn’t last long in college the first time around, so it’s interesting to see what it’s like. He sees himself in the kids who send emails every week asking for extensions, and Rusty in the ones falling asleep in the back row. He can never decide whether that means he should be easier or harder on them.

The law turns out to be pretty easy to learn—at least the introductory shit he’s been tasked with teaching. The real trouble is following it—he said that to his students on the first day of class and got a few chuckles.

It’s an entertaining character to play, this law professor with a special focus on burglary, fraud, and confidence schemes. His students certainly seem to enjoy his occasional tangent about the larger than life criminals he’s defended more than most of the material he’s supposed to teach. Maybe he could keep this up, make some more legitimate connections in the justice system, become an upstanding citizen for the first time in his life.

But god, wouldn’t that be depressing. That can’t be the best he can do for the rest of his life.

.

“I hope you were the groom.”

“Ted Nugent called. He wants his shirt back.”

Rusty rolls his eyes, then pauses, giving Danny a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about Tess.”

Danny shrugs. “Yeah, well…”

“Yeah.”

“How is she?”

Rusty chuckles. “Hightailed it out of Vegas right away. From what I hear, she’s back in New York.”

Danny nods, pushing down the mix of feelings bubbling up from that news. The friends they had there were always more hers than his, anyways. He knows she’s missed it. She deserves this.

“Oh. And she sent me this.”

Rusty digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. He tosses it to Danny, who rips it open, bracing himself.

Into his hand falls a gold ring.

“Ah.”

Rusty shrugs. “I’ve been mailed much worse from exes.”

Looking at that damn ring, Danny can’t help but chuckle, a tiny bit fond. Despite everything. “Liar.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” Rusty starts walking to his car, and Danny follows beside him. “Where are they?”

“Silver sedan, ten o’clock.”

.

A student comes to Danny’s office hours, which they barely ever do. He’s surprised, for a moment, before realizing that it’s not a student; it’s Linus Caldwell with a stolen ID badge.

After the requisite questions of how the other is, which they already know pretty damn well, Linus gets to the reason he came.

“You know you could’ve said this over the phone, right?” Danny replies, raising his brow. “If it’s not about a job…”

“I know, but I was in the area for an Atlantic City gig, so I figured I’d drop by and see you.”

Danny looks to the ceiling. “And that was very gracious of you. How’d the job go?”

“It went off without a hitch, but what do you think she’ll say?!”

Danny runs a hand through his hair. “How long have you known this girl, again?”

“About ten months, but I really think…” He trails off, staring at one of the bare walls of Danny’s scarcely used office. “It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“I’m not the right person to ask.”

Linus winces. “Well, I can’t just go and ask…”

“How about Virgil? He and Sarah are still together, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure our lifestyles are really… compatible.”

“Because he’s a communist or because he’s a Mormon?”

“I don’t think he identifies as either.”

Danny shrugs. “What about Saul?”

“You know what, I think I’ll just keep the ring a few more months and see how I feel.”

“Good plan.”

“Thanks for the help, Danny.”

He snorts. “Sure.”

Linus stands up from his chair across from Danny’s desk. “I’ll leave you to, uh…” He looks around the bare office.

“Grading papers,” Danny finishes.

“Right.” He nods and begins to turn around. “Well, bye!”

“Oh, Linus, one more thing.”

Linus stops and turns back to face Danny. “Yeah?”

“If you really love her, tell her the truth. Trust me on that one.”

“What if she doesn’t like it?”

“That’s up to the two of you.”

Linus nods again. “That’s true.”

“I know it is. Now let me grade these papers in peace. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Linus’s lip curls and he gives a two-finger salute, walking out the way he came.

When the door shuts, Danny sighs heavily, resisting the urge to pull out his phone to text someone who doesn’t need to be bothered, and puts his head in his hands.

Chapter Text

“Daniel Ocean.”

“François Toulour.”

“You lost my challenge.”

Danny sighs, heart heavy. “Yes. We did.”

.

Reuben invites him out to Vegas for the weekend. He doesn’t have property on the strip anymore, which turns out to be for the best.

“Vegas isn’t recession-proof anymore, have you heard this?” Reuben asks, as they’re lounging by his pool.

“No,” Danny replies, staring at nothing in particular. The desert air is good for him. It’s freeing, that dry heat. Like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders, just temporarily.

“Apparently people are getting smart. They’re saving their money.”

“Good for them.”

Reuben shrugs, adjusting his sunglasses. “Yeah, good for them.”

.

“So this proves that I’m the best, does it not?”

“Sure, Toulour. If that’s what you want.”

Toulour smirks, slightly giddy. “Thank you for admitting it, Daniel.”

Danny blinks, his mind racing with half-baked, garbage ways to make 97 million dollars in three days. “So, now what?”

“For you? I suppose you wait for that man Monsieur Benedict to kill you.”

“And you can live with that?”

“Of course! But it is kind of you to be worried.”

“Very funny.”

.

“Listen, Danny,” Reuben says, two margaritas in, tipping down his sunglasses. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“You haven’t asked me for money in years.”

Danny snorts.

“And don’t tell me you’re taking your investments from Benedict now. Because I won’t believe it.”

“He’s too focused on his charity projects for that.”

“Well, if you need something, just let me know. We’re basically family. You came to my niece’s bat mitzvah.”

“It was a lovely ceremony.”

“I mean it, Danny. Even if it isn't about money. I know this amazing woman who can visualize your chakras—or maybe it was auras; I can’t remember. But in any case—“

“Thank you, Reuben. I appreciate it. Really.”

.

“I think it’s quite fair. You lost. I won. I am the greatest thief in the world.”

“Then why is it so important you knock us out of the game?”

He shrugs. “I simply do not want to spend my own hard-earned money to save your lives. Surely you can understand that.”

Danny swallows. His body feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. “Look, Toulour. You did this to us to prove a point. You’ve proven it. You have the money.”

“I do have the money…” He pauses in thought, and his eyes light up. It only takes Danny a moment to see that this revelation was carefully planned and practiced. “I can make you one other offer.”

This will be worse. Danny knows this without a doubt. But he has no other choice. “What?”

“Give me one moment.”

Toulour turns on a heel and disappears down a long, ornate hallway, and Danny waits.

.

“How’s that new job of yours going? What are you doing, again?”

“Teaching.”

“You know… somehow, I can see it.”

Danny shrugs. “It’s a living.”

Reuben raises a brow. “That bad, huh?”

“No, no.” A pause. “I don’t know.”

“You’ll figure something out again. I’m sure you will. You’re not gonna stay stuck forever. I know you better than that.”

.

Toulour comes back a minute later with an overstuffed manila folder.

He places it on the table between them, and on the cover, in pompous, overwrought cursive, it reads “La Vérité sur le Night Fox”.

Danny furrows his brow. “What is this?”

“Let’s call it… a compromise. You give this to Europol, through your contact Mademoiselle Lahiri, and I will give you the money you need so desperately.”

He knows it can’t be this simple, but he has to ask. “You want me to turn you in?”

Toulour laughs. It’s the false, practiced laugh of someone who spends his time with the idle, insufferable rich. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daniel. I want you to turn in your friend. Robert Ryan.”

Danny freezes in place. “What.”

Toulour opens the folder with a flourish. It’s full of pictures. Pictures and documents. All of and about Rusty.

“What the hell are you playing at, Toulour?”

He shrugs. “I’ve gotten bored of the Night Fox persona. It’s become stale, don’t you think? If anyone could even dream of comparing me to nobodies like you and your team of…” He gestures dismissively. “Americans.”

Danny snorts. “You’re afraid of Isabel.”

Toulour scoffs. “Please. Why would I have any reason to—“

“You’ve flown under the radar by being so high profile. But she wants to find you. Not many people will bother to do that—not when insurance is already involved.”

The corner of his lip quirks upward. “Just her and Monsieur Benedict, no?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’ll do it, then?”

“Why Rusty?”

“He has previous activity in Europe. Mademoiselle Lahiri is already suspicious of him. He was the best choice out of your eleven.”

Danny nods, pursing his lips. “And what makes you think she’ll believe a word of it?”

Toulour shrugs. “Some of it is convincing. I am no novice at forgeries. But mainly, she needs it. I have heard through the grapevine that her position at Europol is… in question at the moment. Arresting the Night Fox would take all of that away.”

“You think she’d lie?”

“I know she would. And this is your only option. We both know that.”

.

“Did you want to go down to a casino, by the way?”

Danny takes a sip of his margarita. “I don’t like gambling.”

“Neither do I, kid. Neither do I.”

.

Danny takes a deep breath. “Can I use my one phone call?”

“You already know what he’ll say. But go ahead.”

Danny wishes he could do something unpredictable, call someone Toulour would never think of and turn this whole thing around. He takes his cell phone out of his pocket and presses 2 on speed dial.

It rings once, as Toulour watches with a slight curious smile on his lips.

Before it can ring again, he picks up. “Did you figure something out?”

“Hi, Rusty.”

“That sounds bad. That’s a bad sign.”

“He’s given me another offer.”

“Another heist? We don’t have much time, but—“

“No. It’s not a heist.”

“Oh. Then… what is it?”

Danny swallows. “He wants to frame you as the Night Fox.”

A pause. “He wants to what?!”

“Is Isabel with you?”

“No, she went back with Europol.” Rusty chuckles, just barely bitter. “It turns out lying isn’t really a deal breaker for cops.”

“Shit.”

“Look. If this is our only option—“

“It can’t be.”

“Danny. We don’t have anything else.”

“I’m not going to do that to you.”

“If it was you, what would you do? With everyone’s lives on the line?”

Danny sighs as his stomach turns.

“It’s either this, or we all turn ourselves in.”

“I know.”

“Don’t try to be a hero about this, Danny. Or you won’t have to wait for Benedict to find you. I’ll do it myself. I swear to god.”

Danny takes a deep breath in. “Can you get Isabel?”

“Course. I’ll set a meeting for this evening.”

He breathes out. “I’ll see you then.”

The call ends. Danny closes his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

He looks back to Toulour, setting his jaw. “Done. I’d like that check now.”

Toulour shakes his head. “Once I have proof Mademoiselle Lahiri has the folder.”

A beat; Danny stares at him with dead eyes. “Fine.”

He grabs the folder off the table, turns around, and walks out of the mansion without another word.

.

“Listen, Danny. I don’t say this lightly. I’m gonna tell you the same thing Malcolm X said about Fidel Castro.”

“Frank, what.”

“You’re the only white person I’ve ever really liked.”

Danny raises a brow. “…Thanks.”

“I’m serious, man. You’re important to me.”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, nothing.” A pause. “I just have a job you might be interested in.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“See, this is what I’m saying. You need your groove back, Danny. Just start with something small. My cousin just found an in with the—“

“I’m sorry, Frank. I don’t do that anymore. I’ve gone straight.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve just gone scared. Or worse than that—you’ve gone sad.”

Danny shrugs.

Frank shakes his head disappointedly. “Can I give my cousin your number, at least?”

“Have you tried Linus?”

“Jesus, man.”

.

“What have you two called me here for?” Isabel asks as she sits down at the cafe table where Danny and Rusty are already seated. “I’m not meant to associate with criminals outside of police custody, you know.”

“Hi, Isabel,” Rusty replies, jaw uncharacteristically clenched. Danny should be looking around, keeping watch, acknowledging Isabel’s presence, but he can’t keep his eyes off the man sitting next to him.

She narrows her eyes at Rusty. “It must be bad, if you’re not making the obvious joke.”

“It’s bad.” Danny slides her the folder.

She opens it, face scrunching in confusion as she flips through the pile of subpar evidence and accusations. After a moment, she looks back to Rusty. “Is someone trying to blackmail you?”

“No,” he replies. “Well, yes. But not with that.”

She cocks her head. “I don’t understand.”

Rusty runs a hand through his hair. “We stole from a guy, and now he’s trying his best to kill all eleven of us. The Night Fox will pay his ransom if we give you this.”

She nods, slowly, as it dawns on her. She turns to Danny. “You won’t let him do this.”

“It’s either that or we’re both shot in the head by Terry Benedict’s sniper,” Danny says to the table, because he still can’t look at her.

“Or blown up by Terry Benedict’s car bomb,“ Rusty adds. “Or pushed out a window by—“

“Yes, I get the point. Thank you.”

“So you’ll do it?”

She sighs. “I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

Rusty begins to smile. “I know you always wanted to arrest me.”

She scoffs. “Don’t joke, Robert.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can’t spend my last day as a free man being dour and serious. I want to spend it doing something I love. Isabel, what’s the best burger joint in Rome?”

.

Tess invites him to lunch with her new fiancé.

Which is nice of her to do.

His name is Vincent Waters, and he’s the head curator of the Guggenheim Museum.

“Have you ever visited the Guggenheim?” Vincent asks Danny, as the three of them sip iced drinks from a local coffee shop in the late morning sun. He’s a tall man with wide-rimmed glasses and a lopsided smile. Tess seems at ease around him, and that’s what really matters. Danny was right that she had to get away from Benedict. That’s a win for him, really.

“A few times,” Danny says. “You have a great collection.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so! Which exhibits were they showing when you were there?”

“It’s been so long, I doubt you have them anymore.”

He chuckles. “Well, some people don’t know this, but we actually keep our exhibits in a storage facility when not on display.”

“Ah, right, the one in East Harlem. Very nice place, since the renovation.”

Vincent narrows his eyes. “How do you know that? Our storage locations are kept secret to deter thievery—”

“I probably mentioned it to him,” Tess interjects nervously. “Back when we were…”

Danny puts his hands up. “I won’t tell any thieves. Scouts honor. Well…” He cocks his head. “I won’t tell any more thieves.”

Tess glares daggers at him across the table.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mr. Ocean.”

“You, too. And it was good to see you, Tess. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Thank you, Danny. And, uh, tell Rusty I say hi, too.”

Danny purses his lips. “I’ll relay the message.”

.

Danny and Rusty are sitting at a table inside the cramped, hole-in-the-wall burger restaurant Isabel had recommended to them before heading back to her office, Night Fox folder in hand.

“I hate to say it, but that was a damn good burger,” Rusty says as he licks his fingers. “If Europe can do our shit this good, what’s the point of America?”

Danny watches Rusty eat a couple of fries and lean back in his chair with a deliberate casualness that almost makes it feel like it’s an ordinary day they’re having.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” he asks Danny. “Prosciutto on a burger is an innovation for the goddamn ages.”

Danny shakes his head.

Rusty gives him a disapproving look. “You can’t be dour about this either, okay? This is the best option. This is what happens to criminals. You’ve already been to—“

“At least that was for—“

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Danny sighs, and they sit there in silence for a moment, as other restaurant patrons talk amongst themselves.

“Who else have you told?” Rusty asks, shoving the last of his fries in his mouth.

“No one yet.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Danny purses his lips. “They won’t be happy with me.”

Rusty shrugs. “They’ll understand.”

“They shouldn’t have to.”

He snorts. “Reuben is gonna kill you, though.”

Danny’s lip twitches. “And you.”

Rusty smirks. “I’ll be safe from that, at least.”

“We’ll fight for you, you know. From the second Toulour’s money makes it into Benedict’s checking account.”

Rusty looks at the ceiling. “From one bastard to another, huh. Nothing in it for us.”

“Just our lives.”

“I miss when it was money.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Rusty reaches an arm across the table and takes Danny’s hand. “Danny, I—“

“I know.” Danny rubs a thumb across his knuckles.

“Just let me say it for once.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can hear it.”

Rusty narrows his eyes at him, indignant, and pulls the hand in his to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

Danny’s body aches as warmth radiates down his arm. “Fuck you.”

“I know you want to.” Rusty grins wide, resting his chin on his other hand. “I bet I’ve got one night before they make the arrest. Let’s go back to the hotel room.”

Danny wants to say no, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. This will all hurt like hell either way, so they might as well have one more night.

“Okay,” Danny says, standing up from the table. “But we call Frank in the cab.”

Rusty’s grin grows wider, and they walk out of the restaurant in lockstep. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

“Isabel.”

“Danny.”

“How is he?”

“Fine, as always. He wants me to tell you that an old contact of yours showed up at the prison a few days ago. A man by the name of Gerard Johnson?”

“Oh, huh. The carjacker. Haven’t seen him in years. What’d he get in for?”

“Carjacking, I believe.”

“Mm.”

.

“Danny, this doesn’t have to be our fight. I know it’s hard, but we don’t have everyone we—“

The pit in Danny’s stomach grows wider and deeper by the second, and he shakes his head. “We can’t let anyone else get away with this.”

“Okay,” Linus nods. “Let’s give him hell.”

.

“Any news?”

“We’re getting there. Toulour thinks he’s invincible; he’s getting sloppy.”

“Yeah, he pointed an empty gun at one of my guys during the Bank job.”

A sigh. “Please don’t mention your ‘jobs’ to me while I am on the job, Danny.”

“Sorry.”

“You can tell Robert all about them when…”

“When we get him out. Yeah. I know.”

.

Everyone’s worried about him. He can see it in their faces, hear it in their whispers, and feel it in the air of every room he walks into.

He can’t blame them, really.

It’s different now. Without Reuben. Without Rusty. Without Virgil, too, if he doesn’t get his shit together in Mexico. It feels like he’s doing it by himself, which isn’t fair to the rest of the team, but that’s what it feels like.

Sometimes, it hurts to finish a sentence, when he knows Rusty would’ve stopped him halfway through. He really can’t blame them for worrying.

“We’re going to do this, Danny,” Linus says to him, with an implied ‘for you’ at the end. They never say it, but Danny can hear it loud and clear.

“For Reuben,” he replies. “We’re doing this for Reuben.”

“Of course. We’re doing this for Reuben. And for… all of us.”

Danny nods. “Exactly.”

.

Turk turns Danny on to this organization, The Bright Future Project, which helps felons land on their feet after they’re released from jail. They help find jobs and housing, give them new clothes, pay for things when they need it, that sort of thing.

They have a website where you can choose to Sponsor A Fellow—there are no names or pictures, for the sake of anonymity, just a short biography of each program participant. It’s funny that they all are mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, workers and fans and siblings and friends. Danny has always thought of himself as a criminal.

In any case, he sponsors them all.

He starts receiving thank you letters every other week. Stephen from Cincinnati says he’s the reason he won’t be back on the street. Angela from Portland sent along a colored pencil drawing from her nine-year-old son. Daryl from Albany gave him his entire life story on three wrinkled pieces of college-ruled notebook paper.

With no one around, there’s no reason to pretend they don’t make him cry every goddamn time. He puts the drawing on his fridge.

.

“I need a moment to take this in, Ocean. You, coming to me for help.” Terry Benedict puffs on a cigar with an insufferably smug grin.

“I don’t like it either. But we have a common enemy, and you have money.”

“Thank you for giving that back, by the way. It means a lot to me.”

Danny’s chest clenches, but he doesn’t let it show. “Let’s just talk business, Terry.”

“And I’m sorry about what Toulour put you through. To his credit, though, if it’d been up to me, you’d all be dead right now.”

Danny fixes his cuff link. “Well, if this was up to me…”

Benedict’s grin grows, transforming into the casually taunting smile of someone with a lot of power and little chance to really show it off. “I’m just trying to say, I didn’t mean to steal away both your wives, Ocean. That makes it seem… very personal.”

Danny drums his fingers on Benedict’s dark oak desk. He takes a deep breath in. “Nothing personal about it.”

“I heard Tess is with some guy from the Guggenheim now. Are you stealing from them next?”

“I did that sixteen years ago, Terry.”

He raises a brow. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

.

“He asked if you still have that, and I quote, ‘bullshit teaching job’?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Tell him I do. And tell him he had a bullshit teaching job for longer when I was the one locked up.”

“Robert was a professor?!”

He snorts. “No.”

.

With so many people gone, the whole crew is working overtime. Especially Linus. Danny can’t help but be proud of how he’s grown into a leader, even if he hates that he has to do this much.

Danny, on the other hand, has been spending more and more time than he would like to admit in his hotel room. Alone. Watching whatever’s on the TV.

“Danny, can I talk to you about—Are you watching Oprah?”

Danny looks behind him to see Linus Caldwell standing behind his couch with a confused look on his face. “How did you get in here?”

“I have your key.”

“I didn’t give that to you.”

“Listen, I need you to take a role off my hands.”

Danny blinks. “Anything.”

“If I’m seducing Sponder now, I won’t be on the casino floor during the shutdown. We need you to be the one to trigger the slots.”

“Done.”

Linus nods. “Thanks. Oh, and, uh… Basher wanted me to give you this.” He holds out an envelope.

Danny takes it and nods. “Sorry I missed the last meeting. I—“

Linus shakes his head. “We all understand.” He walks around the couch and takes a seat on the opposite end from Danny, expression turning sympathetic. “How’s he doing?”

Danny sighs. “According to her, he’s fine.”

“Has she had any more luck with the exoneration stuff?”

He sighs again, pursing his lips. There’s a lot he could say here. The whole thing has less to do with evidence and more to do with bureaucracy. There was a breakthrough last year, but it became a dead end when Toulour blew up a Swedish con man’s million dollar yacht. He’s started learning French and Dutch just to see if it might make the legal documents Isabel sends him make more sense, but Rusty was always the language learner and he can’t stand it. If he ever sees Toulour again, he might have it in him to kill the fucker.

“Not much,” Danny replies.

Linus glances at the ground. “Well… I’m sure something will come up eventually, right?”

“We thieves always count on wrongs being made right, don’t we.”

He snorts. “I mean… that is sort of what we do.”

Danny shrugs. “Sort of.”

Linus stands up and starts to walk away. “Well, I’ll leave you to your Oprah.”

“I wasn’t—Yeah. Thanks.”

The hotel room door shuts, and Danny looks up to see a hotel room key sitting on his coffee table.

.

“Isabel, I don’t want to step over any lines, but are the two of you… still…”

She snorts. “No, we decided it would be a bad idea.”

“Right, right.”

“And my girlfriend wouldn’t be happy if I was seeing a criminal on the side.”

“Your—oh! Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Danny.”

“How long have you been together?”

“About six months. I met her when she was chased by the police.”

Danny raises a brow. “Really?”

“No. She works at a tattoo shop down the street from my office. We frequent the same cafe.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, Danny, he’s all yours.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the permission.”

“Of course.”

.

“Do you think I’m like Toulour?”

“Danny, what the hell are you talking about?” Frank gives him a confused look as he sorts through boxes of casino-grade dominoes.

Danny shrugs. “Never mind. I don’t know—”

“Don’t give me that. You are clearly working through something right now. Spit it out.”

He sighs. “Why do we steal things, anyways?”

Frank gives him a blank look. “The money.”

“Besides that. This job isn’t about the money.”

“We are getting those diamonds, though.”

“I’m just saying… Toulour wanted to prove he was better than us. He would’ve let us die just to be able to say he’s the greatest thief in the world.”

“And?”

Danny winces. “Well, I’m trying to prove something, too.”

“What, you think because you tried to use a heist to get your ex-wife back, you’re as bad as that freak-ass French duke?”

“I just mean… this stuff hurts people.”

“It hurts the right people!” Frank tilts his head. “…Mostly.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“We’re all a little messed up right now, with everything going on.”

“Yeah.”

“Now, tell me. Which of these domino sets do you think is the sexiest?”

.

“How is he?”

“Oh, shit, I missed visiting hours this week. I’ve been so busy, I—“

“It’s fine, Isabel. Why did you call?”

“Well, I think you’ll appreciate why I’ve been so busy this week, Danny. We finally found the bitch.”

.

In another world, Rusty would be sitting at this slot machine, and Danny would be watching him from the floor below.

When Danny hands off the final coin to a random casino patron, it feels good. He silently thanks Linus for the change of plans, and hopes that girl will spend the money on something worthwhile.

It’s funny how these sorts of moments are never the ones where it’s difficult to keep his line of work secret. That’s only ever when he’s in between jobs, talking to bank tellers and jewelry store employees and service workers he’s not planning to rob. On the job, it’s easy. That girl can think she was hit by the most random luck in the world all her life and Danny won’t mind—after all, it was still random luck that she would be the one to run into him.

“Oh my god! I won! I really won!”

Damn, she’s good, too. He can’t help but wish Rusty was here to see it.

.

Everything happens so fast once it gets going. One day, Rusty is fifteen years from tasting fresh air again; the next, he’s weeks away from exoneration.

Danny considers finally risking the flight to Europe to see him out, but Isabel still isn’t sure when the exact date will be, and Danny has a stable job these days, for some godforsaken reason.

So he waits, ever impatiently, for matters to be resolved on the other side of the Atlantic.

.

Reuben is back, and thank god for that.

It helps when you have something to live for, the doctor had said.

Despite all the posturing about revenge and ruin, this was always the real reason for doing all of it. To right the wrongs. To bring his friend back. For Danny to see Reuben smoking that cigar, smiling to himself, watching the fireworks, knowing he made it happen…

That’s why he does it.

.

It’s the last day of the semester before final exams, and the first day that almost every student in Danny’s class has shown up. They’re doing a review of the whole semester in preparation for the exam next week.

The material really is simple—he’s not surprised there are people sitting in the desks in front of him that he hasn’t seen all year, save maybe the first week of class. He scans the room, noting the regulars, the ones who show up every once in a while, and the ones who—

Danny stops, noting a particular face in the crowd he did not expect to see.

Danny stops in the middle of a sentence, looking at the new student, who is sitting in the second row with a cup from the fancy smoothie place on campus in his hand. “Are you supposed to be in this class?”

“I can’t imagine where else I’d be,” he responds with a smirk. He has a pen in his hand, and he’s clicking it open and closed against his chin. His gaze is firmly fixed on Danny, like they’re the only two people in the world.

“That’s funny, you weren’t here for the rest of the semester.”

“I was busy.”

“Too busy to learn the foundations of the law?”

His smirk opens into a grin. “You’d be surprised.”

Danny glances at the rest of the class. “Does anyone have any final questions? Because I think I’m going to let you go early today.”

Danny looks back to him, just to make sure it’s real, and to his surprise and relief, he’s still there, grinning back.

Chapter Text

“How long have you been out?”

“Two days. I flew here as fast as I could.”

They’re walking briskly down the hallway of Danny’s school. It’s hard for Danny to believe that Rusty is really here, really back, even as he’s standing a few inches away from him, drinking a mango smoothie.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

Rusty grins, the tiniest bit sheepish. “You didn’t like the surprise?”

Danny stops abruptly at a nondescript door and unlocks it. He opens the door and motions for Rusty to enter. “My office.”

Rusty takes a look around at the still bare walls and shelves. “Nice place.”

“I don’t spend much time here.”

He takes a seat on Danny’s desk, folding his legs. “Well, I can see why.”

“Does anyone else know yet?”

He shakes his head. “Just you and Isabel. Oh, and Bobby Caldwell. He helped with the trial.”

“That was nice of him.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“So, should I be throwing a party in your honor?”

Rusty snorts. “I think last time we robbed three casinos.”

Danny’s lip curls. “I don’t think we can do that again.”

“Of course. This time we go bigger. Five casinos. Like that Sinatra movie.”

“What movie?” 

“Never mind.”

Danny takes a step closer to him, still foolishly afraid he might disappear if he pushes too hard.

“I was talking to some of your students before class. They think you’re a good teacher.”

“Did you tell them I have a real fake Picasso hanging on my living room wall?”

Rusty grins. “I should’ve.” A pause. “Didn’t you give that to Tess?” 

“She gave it back once she realized it was stolen.”

“I told you it was a little much for a third date.”

Danny shrugs. “It worked out for a while.”

“Isn’t this the part where you tell me you’re bored?”

“Now, why would I be bored?”

Rusty glances around the office’s bare white walls once again. 

“Okay, well—“

“Bobby told me you haven’t done a job in over a year.”

“Is that so unusual for us?”

“Danny. You’re teaching fucking college.”

Danny sighs. “Okay. Touché.”

“Don’t tell me this is all because of me.”

He winces. “Well—“

“Jesus, Danny.”

“Look. It’s not the same as—“

“It wasn’t your fucking fault! I know you heard that a hundred times from Isabel.”

“Rusty…”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s time to bring you back.”

Danny’s lip curls. “If anyone can do it—“

“I know.”

“I missed you, Rusty.”

“I missed you, too.”

“I thought you were gonna say I know again.”

“That too. But I’m trying out sincerity. What do you think?”

“I think it suits you.”

He frowns. “That bad?”

Danny rolls his eyes.

“I can’t stay in this room any longer. It’s draining my energy. Do you still drink or is that off the table too?”

Danny sighs, fondly, unable to shake the feeling that something missing in him has been found again. “I’ll take you to my favorite bar around here.”

.

“So, you’re the guy I’m supposed to see about an exciting new opportunity?”

Danny looks up to see a young man take a seat at the barstool next to him. He’s got dyed blond hair in a half-hearted mullet, a dark brown jacket covering a red and white Hawaiian shirt, and intense, eager eyes.

“Reuben sent you?” Danny asks in response. He reaches for his glass of bourbon, but it’s already empty.

The man nods. 

“That’s funny, because he told me he wouldn’t send anyone.”

 “Well…” He runs a hand through his hair with a sheepish grin. “I may have wrestled it out of him.”

Danny raises a brow. “Oh.”

“He said this kid he knew had a stupid, dangerous idea to make a lot of money, and I would probably get along with him. I wasn’t gonna let that go.”

Danny smirks, holding out a hand. “Danny Ocean. Pleasure to meet you.”

The man takes his hand, grinning wide. “Rusty Ryan.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Rusty pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Danny laughs. “Then you’re just the guy I need for a plan like this. Now, what do you know about card counting?”

.

“…And I’m close to fluent in Italian, too. Though I assume I know a lot more vocabulary regarding safes and lockpicks than the average speaker.”

Danny nods as he nurses a Blue Moon. He never really drank beer before, but it felt like something his professor alter ego would do.

“Never met anyone who spoke Basque, though. I was kind of hoping I might.”

“Maybe next time.”

“To next time.” Rusty holds up his glass of whatever fruity cocktail the chalkboard out front was advertising. 

Danny rolls his eyes and holds up his bottle to toast. They both drink.

“I mean it,” Rusty says after a moment. “What’s next?”

“Finals.”

“Fuck you.”

The closer the possibility gets, the more he wants it, and the more it scares him. “I’ve changed, Rusty.”

“Guys like us don’t change, Danny. We—“

“Either stay sharp or we get sloppy. That’s what we tell other people to bring them into a job. You should know it won’t work on me, Rus.”

“Fine, how about this: I didn’t spend four years in jail on another continent just for you to give up. And god, I’m fucking bored.”

Danny sighs. “Fine. What do you got?”

.

They get caught pretty quickly and are thrown out of the Sahara before the clock strikes midnight. So much for Danny’s brilliant plan. It turns out they’d seen that one before.

“So, what’s next?” Rusty asks, as they wander the Strip in the light of glowing neon signs. 

Danny pauses in thought for a moment, somewhat surprised this guy wants to keep working with him. But he knows what went wrong. They were too eager. Trying too hard. Too cool and not cool enough. They looked like two twenty-somethings trying out a scheme to cheat a casino out of its money. They’ll have to change course or get better at belonging in the room.

“There’s gonna be a next, right? Reuben really talked you up, you know.” A pause. “Well, talked you up and down. But that’s Reuben.”

Danny grins. “Yeah. There’s gonna be a next.”

Rusty grins back at him. “Fantastic.” He reaches out his hand to shake. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Danny chuckles, taking his hand. He pauses at the feeling of something cold and metallic in Rusty’s palm, which drops into his own.

Rusty’s grin widens. “Oh, and I snagged a guy’s Rolex on the way out.”

Danny takes a look at the silver watch in his hands and starts to laugh. “Okay, Rusty. I like you a lot. What’s next?”

.

They drive down to Atlantic City. 

“I’m not like you,” Rusty says from the driver’s seat, as the top of his convertible opens. “I didn’t come out of prison with the plan to end all plans. I was kind of counting on you for that.”

“Well…” Danny looks out the window at the vast pine forest lining the road.

“You’re thinking of something right now, I know.”

“I never said that.”

Rusty looks over to him with a smirk. “Of course not.”

.

“For this one, we’ll need some more people.”

“Do you know Frank Catton? He’s another dealer at the El Rancho.”

“You’ll have to introduce me.”

Rusty nods. “Come see me at work tomorrow and I will.”

“I already talked to Phil Turentine; he can whip up something for us to explode, in the unlikely case we’ll need it.”

“How about Saul Bloom? He’s kind of above our pay grade, but…”

“We could ask him.”

Rusty points a finger at Danny in agreement.

“Well, let’s talk to them and figure it out from there.”

He gives a two-finger salute. “Sounds like a plan.”

Danny grins, drunk on nothing but the planning phase of a real, proper scheme. “I really appreciate the help, Rusty. I want you to know.”

“You know what? You better. Because you’re stuck with me, now, Ocean.” Rusty is looking just past him, out the window. “Whether you like it or not.”

Danny’s heart skips a beat. “After one failed job, huh?”

“I know potential when I see it.”

“That works for me.”

Rusty’s gaze falls on him again, and they’re smiling at each other, two kids playing at being grown-up, wearing the most expensive suits they could buy with a stolen watch. “Good.”

.

They’re sitting at a table in a diner in Atlantic City. It turns out, neither of them had an elaborate plan to pull out at the last minute, so they go back to their usual plan B: getting Rusty something to eat.

“I just started wondering why we do it at all,” Danny says, taking a sip of decaf coffee.

“Well, why did you do it?” Rusty asks, digging into a stack of pancakes. He asked the waitress to bring him extra whipped cream, but she hasn’t come back yet.

Danny shrugs. 

Rusty raises his brow, putting a hand to his forehead. “Oh, come on, Danny. I know that you know that I know why you did it. Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“I guess I am.”

He shakes his head. “You have a complex, Danny. You think you can always fix everything. Fix everything by breaking it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, listen,” Rusty takes another bite of pancake and points his fork at Danny. “A heist didn’t bring Tess back and it didn’t bring me back. So maybe you need a new reason to do heists.”

Danny purses his lips and looks at the table. “It did bring Reuben back.”

Rusty’s lip curls and he looks to the ceiling. “One for three is not a good record, Danny.”

“It used to be better.”

“Back when we were younger.”

“When we had nothing to lose, right?”

Rusty smirks. “I don’t think we ever had nothing to lose. That’s just one of those things you say.”

“Hm.”

.

“Haven’t I seen you before somewhere?” Jeffrey Madison Jr. asks Rusty from across the poker table, as everyone picks up their cards.

Jeffrey Madison Sr. is a stockbroker worth a cool hundred million at least, and his young son loves nothing more than gambling his money away. Danny befriended him in the casino earlier that day, and they get along swimmingly—Madison Jr. loves to talk and Danny is a fantastic listener.

Rusty nods. “I deal cards here. This is my night off.”

Madison scoffs. “You have nowhere else to go on your night off?”

“I like the atmosphere.”

“Do dealers here make the kind of money to play at this kind of table?”

Rusty shrugs. “Depends how well they do on their nights off.”

“I’m not sure I trust playing against a dealer,” Danny chimes in from the seat next to his new greasy friend. “I bet they know all the tricks they don’t teach us laypeople.”

Rusty shakes his head. “No tricks.” He looks up to the dealer. “Isn’t that right, Frank?”

Frank Catton nods from the dealing booth. “That’s right. They just teach us to deal the cards.”

Danny turns to Madison. “What do you think? Should we stay?”

He nods. “This’ll be fun.”

“Great.” Danny looks back to Rusty and they lock eyes, just for a moment. Danny holds back a smile, a wave of focused calm washing over him. This is the shit he lives for. He’s all in.

A Vegas poker table has eight seats. At the moment, the seats at Frank’s table are filled by Danny, Madison, Rusty, and a girl Rusty brought along from his favorite strip club—they promised her an equal share. The rest are empty. 

This first game, with just the four of them, is the only one Frank is supposed to rig, just to make sure Rusty has enough to stay in the game. After that, he’s only there for passive control, and as a last resort if things go bad.

Jeffrey Madison Jr. stares in mild astonishment at Rusty’s two of diamonds and four of spades, which match with the community cards’ pair of red fours and two of clubs to make a full house. “Okay… well… you just got lucky, huh?”

That’s exactly what they’d scripted Danny to say. This guy is a perfect mark.

Rusty smirks as he pulls in his winnings from the middle of the table. “It’s been known to happen now and then.”

“Well, now you’re in it for the long haul with the two of us,” Danny responds, putting a hand on Madison’s shoulder. “We gotta win our money back.”

Madison grins like a fifth grade bully on the playground.

“Mind if we join?”

A flawless German accent sounds from next to the table, revealing Saul’s arrival exactly on cue. 

“Not at all,” Danny says, as Saul takes a seat next to the new player he brought along—a stern-looking older man in a navy suit.

“My name is Otto von Karma, and this is Stanley Northingwood.”

“Where are you from, Mr. von Karma?” asks Rusty’s stripper. Her name is some kind of fruit—Cherry? Peach? Banana? Danny can’t remember.

“Berlin, originally, but I moved to the United States in my twenties.”

“And you, Mr. Northingwood?” Rusty adds.

The man scrunches his face and makes a dismissive gesture towards Rusty.

Saul shrugs at Danny, the tiniest grin on his face. Danny knows this strange, silent man Saul has found must have a lot of cash to lose.

Frank deals out a new round of cards.

They have a system—it’s more sophisticated than a hustle, because when done right, the marks will never even know they were being played. It’s easier for everyone that way.

“He’s bluffing,” Danny mutters to Madison, when he knows Rusty has something really good, per their new and improved signaling system. 

Saul ends up winning that round, but it still all goes back to the same place—and they got Madison and Northington to raise more than triple where they started. 

It takes more of Danny’s energy than he expected not to look over at Rusty. Must be that slick new baby blue suit they bought together.

No, it’s not that. There’s something about his eyes. Something magnetic. 

The game goes on like this, marks getting progressively more drunk as the night goes on. They end with a net profit of almost forty thousand dollars. Split six ways, that’s about six and a half thousand per person. Not bad for one night. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Madison asks Danny, slurring his words. 

Danny reluctantly puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do, buddy.”

.

They stay at a hotel in Atlantic City for the night, even though Danny doesn’t live that far away, because it will force them to really do something tomorrow. Plus, it’s more nostalgic this way. Their most treasured moments have often taken place in hotel rooms.

“It is good to be back in the real world,” Rusty says, leaping onto his bed and lounging with his arms under his head. “The beds aren’t like this in prison, you know.”

“I know,” Danny replies, taking off his jacket.

“Not even in Europe.”

“I figured.”

Rusty grins up at him. “You’re thinking of a plan, now.”

Danny rolls his eyes.

“Something not too flashy, not too big… not very Danny Ocean at all, huh? We’re going back to the basics, aren’t we?”

He scoffs. “We should’ve gone back to Camden.”

“Too late now, Ocean! You’re stuck with me.”

Danny looks at the ceiling, grinning despite himself. “So I’ve been told.” 

.

When Danny arrives back at the hotel room he booked for the weekend, Rusty is already there, lying on the floor. 

“You have an apartment, don’t you?” Danny asks as he enters.

“It’s not carpeted.”

Danny shrugs and takes off his jacket, carefully draping it on his bed.

“You got the money?”

“Putting it in the safe now.”

Rusty snorts. “Those things are so easy to crack.”

“I’m not too worried about it.” A pause, as he closes the safe. “I think I’ll leave a couple hundred for the cleaning lady. Make her week.”

“You can do whatever you want with your share.”

Danny rolls his eyes.

“That went pretty well, I think.”

“Yeah. It did.” Danny takes a few steps toward where Rusty is lying and joins him on the floor, resting his hands under his head.

Rusty looks over with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

A moment of silence passes between them.

“So,” Rusty says. “What are you gonna do with your share of the money? The rest of it, anyways.”

“Put it toward the next job,” Danny replies, without a second thought. “You?”

Rusty hesitates. “The same, honestly. But aren’t we supposed to have a better answer than that?”

“Like what?”

“You know… I’m gonna settle down, meet a nice girl, follow my dreams…”

Danny snorts. 

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

.

“How about that trick we pulled at the El Rancho? Back in ‘84?” 

“We’d need more people.”

“Good news, then. There are lots of people who want to see you.”

“That’s true, isn’t it.” Rusty eats a few pretzels from a bag in the hotel mini bar. “I’ll bet they’ll wanna see you too, since you’ve been out of the game so long.”

Danny sighs. “You might be right.”

Rusty grins. “Let’s have ourselves a reunion.”

.

Their next job goes off perfectly, too, and the two of them celebrate with champagne in Danny’s hotel room. 

“To all the suckers of the world!” Rusty says as he holds up his glass, clearly already buzzed off the cocktails he drank at the hotel bar. “We owe them our humble thanks.”

“I think we can take some credit, too,” Danny shoots back. Admittedly, he’s also a little bit tipsy already, but he’d like to pride himself on not showing it.

Rusty nods, slowly and thoughtfully. “To us,” he says with a smirk. “The biggest suckers of them all.”

Danny clinks his champagne glass with Rusty’s and they both drink. 

They stand there, staring at each other, and Danny is reminded of that magnetism in Rusty’s eyes. The room feels like it’s spinning—a byproduct of either the alcohol or the sixty-eight thousand dollars in cash that Frank is currently accompanying to a secure location for the night—and he can’t look anywhere else.

“We make a good team,” Rusty says, smiling like a man absolutely wasted. 

“You’ve said that before.”

He shrugs, taking a step closer to Danny. “I wanna say it again.”

They’re standing very close to each other now. Danny can feel Rusty’s breath on him. 

Danny takes a breath in. He has the funniest urge to reach out and put a hand on Rusty’s chin, but before he can, Rusty stumbles and falls into Danny’s arms.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, trying and failing to stand himself back up. “I’m drunk.”

Danny can feel Rusty’s heart beating as he grabs onto Danny’s arms to steady himself. “I see that.”

At that, Rusty reaches up and kisses Danny on the lips.

For a moment, Danny’s heart stops. Rusty’s lips are soft, and the room is spinning in a different sort of way, now.

Rusty pulls back, eyes wide, like the shock made him sober again. “Shit, Danny. I’m sorry. I—“

Danny holds onto his arms, dizzy with desire. “Did you mean it?”

He hesitates, studying Danny’s eyes with a hopeful little half-smile. Then, he nods. “Yeah. I did.”

Danny grins and leans in to kiss him again.

.

Linus books a next-day flight as soon as he learns Rusty’s back. Put a big job in LA on hold and everything. Frank is a little bit too well-known to the gaming board and its affiliates to actually participate in the job this time, but he still closes his salon and makes his way to Jersey when he gets the news. 

They’re all coming—all nine of them—in the next few days, but right now it’s still just the two of them, Danny and Rusty, in an Atlantic City hotel room, just like old times.

“Do you know what I like about this plan?” Rusty asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed, flipping through the pages of the MGM Tower’s current guest list, courtesy of the very inattentive overnight concierge. 

Danny doesn’t look up from his map of the layout of the Borgata casino. “What.”

“I get to sit with you at the poker table all night.”

At that, Danny looks up to see Rusty looking at him with a big grin on his face. He raises a brow. “Prison really did change you.”

Rusty shrugs. “Maybe you just don’t remember me as well as you think you do.”

Danny winces. “That’s worse.”

He blows a kiss. Danny rolls his eyes and catches it. He laughs.

“Do you know what I like about this plan?”

“It won’t piss off any French assholes who—”

“There’s no gambling.”

Rusty snorts. “That is technically true. As long as everything goes to plan.”

“So, just that one gamble.”

Rusty stands up and takes a seat right next to Danny, wrapping an arm around his waist. “It’s a good starter job. It worked for us when we were kids, too.”

“We’ll probably be better at it now, don’t you think?”

“I sure hope so.”

Danny grins. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Rusty grins back, pressing a kiss to Danny’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re back, Danny.”

“Me too.” He turns his head, running a hand through Rusty’s hair. “Now, what’s next?”