Work Text:
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Anklebiter* had been planning this robbery for months. She had the blueprints of the museum memorised, she knew the comings and goings of all the staff - knew all their names, even. She had everything planned down to the last detail, and was ready for it to go off without a hitch.
She really should have accounted for this.
“We have got to stop meeting like this, Anklebiter,” The Shadow Bandit† drawled, and Anklebiter could tell that the tall figure in front of her was grinning behind the bandana that covered the lower half of their face. She grit her teeth.
“I’ve had this hit planned for months, Shadow,” she gestured wildly, stepping up to Shadow to stand in their personal space threateningly, height difference be damned. “You should leave.”
Shadow raised an eyebrow, looking down at the masked criminal staring up at her. Shadow knew - perhaps more than anyone - that it was dangerous to underestimate Anklebiter based on her size, that she was more than capable of holding her own, and that it was even more dangerous to taunt her like this. Despite this knowledge, however, they did find the sight in front of them rather adorable - the shorter criminal had her hands on her hips defiantly, her balaclava rolled halfway up her face so that her annoyed pout was clearly visible. The Shadow Bandit grinned.
“Leave?” they asked, pretending to consider it. “Now why would I do that?”
Before Anklebiter could respond with a cutting remark, a siren sounded in the distance, making both robbers jump. Both of them froze as they stared out the window, waiting for the sound to pass.
Eventually, the sirens faded, clearly heading elsewhere in the city. The dusty storage room they were in stayed dark, with no red and blue lights flooding through the small window. Anklebiter let out a breath.
“Just - stay out of my way.” She turned on her heel, ignoring the mock salute Shadow shot her way. Anklebiter went to make her way through the crowded storage room, only to be held back by a gentle hand on her wrist.
“The hell?” she went to snatch her arm back, but Shadow kept hold of them firmly, bringing a finger to where their lips would be.
The tall bandit pulled their bandana down so that Anklebiter could read their lips - there’s someone outside.
Anklebiter’s eyes widened, and Shadow wasted no time in pulling the two of them into a dusty conclave behind a large shelving unit. Anklebiter was suddenly aware of just how very, very close they were, with Shadow’s lanky frame hunched over awkwardly and essentially holding Anklebiter against the wall. The two of them held their breath, not daring to move as a door creaked open. From the corner of their eye, the Shadow Bandit could see the glow of a flashlight flood the room, missing their hiding spot by a mere hair. They could feel Anklebiter tense beneath them, and had a feeling that the smaller thief’s hand was itching to grab the stun-gun from her pocket.
After what seemed like an eternity, the room went dark again and the door creaked shut. For a long moment, neither bandit moved, bracing themselves in case someone returned, but nobody did. Shadow finally breathed out, lifting their mask back up to cover their face, and stood back to let Anklebiter out of the small alcove.
“Close one, huh?” Shadow laughed awkwardly. Anklebiter just glared in response, dusting off her shoulders. “Okay, listen. You do what you need to do, I’ll stay outta your way, and then we get out. Alright?”
“Alright,” Anklebiter nodded, checking her watch. “You don’t happen to be here for Margaery’s Book of Curses and Potions, do you?”
“No.”
“Why are you here?”
Shadow just wiggled their eyebrows, making Anklebiter roll her eyes.
“Whatever. Just - stay out of my way.” And with that, she made her way over to the collection of old tomes that were shelved on the other side of the room. There were a hell of a lot of books, and she wanted to leave as quickly as possible, so she got to work scanning the spines. She was vaguely aware that Shadow was doing… something, behind her, but she blocked it out, placing all her focus on her mission.
“There you are!” she whispered ecstatically, finally finding Margaery’s guide, stuck between what seemed like a handwritten diary and something about a cabaret and a grandma. She ran a hand reverently over the cover, feeling the embossed title and smiling softly. Soon, she thought, this would be in the hands of its rightful owner.
She was just about to have a quick peak at the diary, intrigued why it would be stored in here with such mystical texts, when Shadow suddenly said, quietly but with a lot of feeling:
"Fuck. ”
And that’s really all the warning got before an alarm was blaring. This time it was coming from inside the museum, and was so loud Anklebiter had to cover her ears.
“What did you do?” She hissed, glaring at the Shadow Bandit and registering the fact that she could hear steps thundering down the corridor towards them.
“I - I made an oopsy,” Shadow said, and Anklebiter could just picture the wry grin under the mask. “Listen, I’ll catch you later, yeah? This has been fun!”
And then they were gone; when it came to fight or flight, Shadow was very much flight , disappearing out the window, into the night, becoming like their namesake.
“Son of a bitch,” Anklebiter swore, before turning to face the door where, in just a few moments, she was sure several guards would burst through. She placed Margary’s book carefully in her satchel before drawing her weapon and steeling herself.
When it came to fight or flight, Anklebiter was very much fight.
A grin spread across her face despite herself. The sounds of the guards were getting closer, the alarm blaring becoming more and more unbearable.
Bring it on, she thought, and really, there was no hope at all for the guards from that point on.
LATER….
“We have got to start coordinating better,” Annabelle said as she stole one of Butch’s fries. She dipped it in her milkshake, making Butch grimace. “Why were you even there? ”
The two of them were in a mostly empty diner, tucked away in a booth where they could go unheard. The only other lifeforms around seemed to be a crazed-looking college student who was drinking coffee by the gallon, and the bored looking waitress who was reading werewolf erotica behind the counter.
Butch shrugged.
“I wanted to see you,” they said. Annabelle softened.
“Cute,” she said. “But we agreed that we’d keep our work life and our personal life separate, remember?”
Butch groaned dramatically, as if this wasn’t a mutual agreement the two of them had both made. This thing between them - it was new, but it was special. Neither of them wanted to ruin it, but they knew their professions put them in volatile positions.
“But you look so hot in your heist gear,” they said, their foot moving to run up Annabelle’s calf. Annabelle blushed.
“I - stop it,” she pushed Butch’s Doc Marten away. “You’re incorrigible,” she scolded, the corner of her mouth twitching. Butch grinned, unrepentant.
“Besides,” Butch continued. They pushed aside the remains of their burger and reached over the table, taking one of Annabelle’s hands in their own. “It is how we met.”
Butch’s thumb traced gently over Annabelle’s knuckles. Annabelle couldn’t help but smile, memories of their first meeting flooding her mind. She leant forward over the table, looking deep in her lover’s eyes.
“We stole that politician’s money -“
“-and we stole each other’s hearts.” Butch completed Annabelle’s sentence, the two of them collapsing in giggles at their sappiness. It was true, though - they had coincidentally both planned to steal from a corrupt, homophobic politician’s home on the same night, and had run away from his guard dogs hand-in-hand, laughing as they went with a promise to meet again.
It was, to put it simply, romantic as hell.
Annabelle sighed.
“Listen - I have a hit planned in a couple of weeks time,” she said cautiously, tucking a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. “It might be fun to have some back-up?”
The grin Butch shot her way was brighter than the sun.
“It’s a date.”
And with that, Anklebiter and the Shadow Bandit piled up their plates and disappeared from the diner as swiftly as they entered, leaving nothing but a $100 bill tip on their table for the tired waitress.