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Since Danny had recruited him for the Bellagio job, Linus' life had become increasingly chaotic. Which was why he was only mildly shocked when Danny and Rusty waltzed into his hotel room (he was supposed to be untraceable at the moment, not that they seemed to care) and handed him a perfectly legal-looking adoption packet from the state of Illinois with his name on it.
"This is a trick, right?" Linus asked, skimming the papers. "Like, in fine print it says "I agree to give Danny and Rusty all my money and do whatever they say forever"?"
"No, that was in the last contract you signed," Rusty said, waiting until Linus' head snapped up to let his grin show. "I'm kidding. They're fair and square."
"From the government herself," Danny chimed in.
Linus set it down. "Guys, I have parents. Why would I sign this?"
Danny prodded the table with a finger. "Because screw Bobby Caldwell."
Linus flinched instinctually, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder.
"Because what has he done other than make you feel insecure?" Rusty asked.
This was getting ridiculous. "What, you want the list? He raised me, taught me the job, gave me —"
"Barely," Rusty interrupted. "You want to know why you're so good at this job? You're quiet. You're not disruptive or noticable. And your style has a solid base, yes, but after that it looks self-taught."
"Bobby taught you to be afraid," Danny prompted. "We don't want that."
Linus swallowed, wishing he had the strength to deny it. "But ... it doesn't matter, because my mom took care of me."
"She did," Rusty conceded, "she does. Take another look at the forms."
Reluctant, Linus glanced down. Past his own information (how did they get all this?), and past Danny and Rusty's signatures (good Lord, they were serious about this), was his mom's name in her own messy scrawl. Then her address and place of birth and so on, but the important part was, she was listed as the third adoptive parent.
"You got my mom to sign this?" he yelped.
Rusty grinned. "Fair and square."
"Wait," he said, "this makes no sense. She's already legally my mother. Why would she have to adopt me?"
Danny waved a dismissive hand. "It was the best way to avoid all the court shnazzle. Otherwise I'd be on there as Miguel Diaz."
"But — she's on board?"
Rusty chewed his lip. "Well, her actual words were more like —" he let his voice rise in pitch " —"No way, you're terrible influences on him", and then she took a pen and signed it herself. So."
"My mom doesn't sound like that."
"Then she went on about how good it was that someone cared about you and why Bobby is a good husband but —"
"A terrible father," Danny finished. "For ten to fifteen minutes. Long story short, she's on board."
"So it comes down to you."
"And whether or not there's ink in that pen."
"Because screw Bobby Caldwell," Rusty concluded, "but more importantly, because we're awesome and we like you and we say so."
Linus blinked. "You like me?"
"Uh oh."
"There he goes —"
"Getting all emotional."
"You've got something good, kid."
"Learned it from the best."
"So what do you say?"
"And don't say no."
Linus found himself hesitating. It wasn't out of any particular loyalty to Bobby, although he did feel guilt faintly tugging at him. He looked over the forms again. Rusty inspected his fingernails.
Knowing Danny and Rusty, he should stop this right now, put an end to whatever trick they were playing. But ... well, it was in his nature to be trusting. Linus flipped the pen back and forth, clicking it incessantly. Finally, with a spur of decisiveness — or maybe insanity — he set his own signature to the paper, formalizing it.
Danny and Rusty grinned in unison. "We're dads," Rusty whispered, and they shared a high-five.
"Guys, please," Linus said. "Right over my adoption papers?"
Danny leveled his stare. "Yes, Linus Ocean-Ryan, right now."
Linus had to frantically flip back through the forms looking for his name — Caldwell, thank goodness — before shooting Danny a glare.
"Ocean-Ryan?" Rusty mused absently. "I don't know, I prefer the sound of Ryan-Ocean. Ryocean? No, that's ridiculous."
"Ocean-Caldwell-Ryan," Danny supplied.
"Now that's just mean." Rusty materialized a series of champagne flutes from seemingly thin air, each one more impressive than the last as Linus searched for his trick. "Call your mom, kid."
"Isn't he too young?" Danny asked as Rusty handed one to Linus.
"Ah, we wrote thirty on the forms. Must be a misprint."
"I am thirty!"
"Hi thirty, I'm dad."
Linus groaned into his drink. "I regret you already."
"That's no way to speak to your father."
"Have you been preparing these?"
"A little," they admitted at the same time. Rusty grinned. "Cheers."
Linus allowed his glass to be tapped. "This is going to be terrible," he said, "and you're going to be insufferable about it."
Danny nodded at him, his raised eyebrows serving as a smile. "Looking forward to it."