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kinkfestTitle: All’s Fair In…
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparkism
Rating: PG
Warnings: Snarkyness?
Word Count: 652
Summary: Compromise is not a word in Vetinari’s extensive vocabulary.
Prompt: Nov 29 - Terry Pratchett's Discworld, Havelock Vetinari/Sam Vimes, balance of power - "Fair's fair."
Note: I’m a bit rusty on my canon, I hope you’ll forgive me.
Samuel Vimes was never a very patient man. Vetinari, on the other hand, was so good at being impatient that he looked almost inhumanly patient. And as Vimes stood before the Patrician’s desk, hands clasped behind his back in annoyance under the pretense of standing with some bit of decorum, he was beginning to hate this little fact.
“I’ve been getting some complaints about the trolls on the Watch,” Vetinari was saying in that impossibly calm voice of his; he’d been talking at Vimes for so long Vimes had begun to run through a rather lewd song (courtesy of Nobby Nobbs) in his head.
“Surely no one has complained to you directly,” Vimes interrupted, tone facetiously horrified. Complaining to Lord Vetinari was like tying raw meat to yourself and walking into the midst of a wolf pack.
“Of course not,” Vetinari replied, waving a hand unconcernedly. “I have received papers.” He tapped the pile of paperwork in front of him. Letting Vetinari have documented evidence of your complaints was also bad, but not as much as whining at him. It took him time to track you down that way (not much time, though).
“And the papers tell me,” Vetinari continued, “that some people are rather intimidated by the trolls on the Watch.”
“Well, sir, that’s sort of the point of having them,” Vimes retorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He longed to get out of there and just have a smoke (preferably all in one piece). Vetinari raised an eyebrow at him, and Vimes knew then that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He unclasped his hands and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know I don’t appreciate this kind of foreplay. Sir,” he added as a sarcastic sort of afterthought.
Vetinari laughed. It didn’t fool either of them. “Whose office do you think you’re in?”
Vimes swallowed back a snappish reply, skipping to the chase and muttering, “And the whole city’s yours, of course.” They’d had this conversation many times before.
“Perhaps,” Vetinari said leisurely, tapping a finger on the desktop, “when you get an office of your own…”
The Watchman snorted. “You’d deign to fuck me there instead of here?”
Silence. Sam Vimes was in trouble now.
“If you think, Commander,” Vetinari said, looking for all the world like Vimes had just told him that he was getting the Patrician a puppy for Hogswatch and not at all like he should be, “that I — ”
But what Vimes thought never made it out of Vetinari’s mouth. Indeed, Vimes’s tongue made it quite too much of a hassle to talk.
Vimes was gripping the other man’s shoulders tightly, and Vetinari let his mind wander for a moment as he realized that he hadn’t noticed Vimes approach him. He was slipping, certainly. Perhaps it was time to brush up on the skills of his schooling as a youth.
Vimes broke off the kiss. He smelled like those atrocious cigars he was always smoking. And never did it once cross his mind that he was doing something dumb. They’d done this so many times before that he was getting cocky. Games weren’t exciting if there wasn’t a challenge.
“You’ve made your point,” Vetinari said slowly, looking at Vimes carefully. “Or a point, at least. The purpose of it escapes me.”
“We can compromise,” Vimes replied, knowing quite well that “compromise” in Vetinari’s book meant “having everything go his way.” He pointed at Vetinari then himself as he spoke. “Your office, my rules.”
“Commander Vimes, your idea of a compromise is quite unfair,” Vetinari responded seriously, steepling his fingers together thoughtfully.
“All’s fair in love and war,” Vimes remarked (now why did that sound so familiar…), and Vetinari smiled, amused.
“Is that what this is, then?”
Returning the smirk, Vimes batted the Patrician’s hands out of his way for another kiss, saying, “Yeah. This is war.”
And no one could object otherwise.
Author:
sparkismRating: PG
Warnings: Snarkyness?
Word Count: 652
Summary: Compromise is not a word in Vetinari’s extensive vocabulary.
Prompt: Nov 29 - Terry Pratchett's Discworld, Havelock Vetinari/Sam Vimes, balance of power - "Fair's fair."
Note: I’m a bit rusty on my canon, I hope you’ll forgive me.
Samuel Vimes was never a very patient man. Vetinari, on the other hand, was so good at being impatient that he looked almost inhumanly patient. And as Vimes stood before the Patrician’s desk, hands clasped behind his back in annoyance under the pretense of standing with some bit of decorum, he was beginning to hate this little fact.
“I’ve been getting some complaints about the trolls on the Watch,” Vetinari was saying in that impossibly calm voice of his; he’d been talking at Vimes for so long Vimes had begun to run through a rather lewd song (courtesy of Nobby Nobbs) in his head.
“Surely no one has complained to you directly,” Vimes interrupted, tone facetiously horrified. Complaining to Lord Vetinari was like tying raw meat to yourself and walking into the midst of a wolf pack.
“Of course not,” Vetinari replied, waving a hand unconcernedly. “I have received papers.” He tapped the pile of paperwork in front of him. Letting Vetinari have documented evidence of your complaints was also bad, but not as much as whining at him. It took him time to track you down that way (not much time, though).
“And the papers tell me,” Vetinari continued, “that some people are rather intimidated by the trolls on the Watch.”
“Well, sir, that’s sort of the point of having them,” Vimes retorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He longed to get out of there and just have a smoke (preferably all in one piece). Vetinari raised an eyebrow at him, and Vimes knew then that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He unclasped his hands and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know I don’t appreciate this kind of foreplay. Sir,” he added as a sarcastic sort of afterthought.
Vetinari laughed. It didn’t fool either of them. “Whose office do you think you’re in?”
Vimes swallowed back a snappish reply, skipping to the chase and muttering, “And the whole city’s yours, of course.” They’d had this conversation many times before.
“Perhaps,” Vetinari said leisurely, tapping a finger on the desktop, “when you get an office of your own…”
The Watchman snorted. “You’d deign to fuck me there instead of here?”
Silence. Sam Vimes was in trouble now.
“If you think, Commander,” Vetinari said, looking for all the world like Vimes had just told him that he was getting the Patrician a puppy for Hogswatch and not at all like he should be, “that I — ”
But what Vimes thought never made it out of Vetinari’s mouth. Indeed, Vimes’s tongue made it quite too much of a hassle to talk.
Vimes was gripping the other man’s shoulders tightly, and Vetinari let his mind wander for a moment as he realized that he hadn’t noticed Vimes approach him. He was slipping, certainly. Perhaps it was time to brush up on the skills of his schooling as a youth.
Vimes broke off the kiss. He smelled like those atrocious cigars he was always smoking. And never did it once cross his mind that he was doing something dumb. They’d done this so many times before that he was getting cocky. Games weren’t exciting if there wasn’t a challenge.
“You’ve made your point,” Vetinari said slowly, looking at Vimes carefully. “Or a point, at least. The purpose of it escapes me.”
“We can compromise,” Vimes replied, knowing quite well that “compromise” in Vetinari’s book meant “having everything go his way.” He pointed at Vetinari then himself as he spoke. “Your office, my rules.”
“Commander Vimes, your idea of a compromise is quite unfair,” Vetinari responded seriously, steepling his fingers together thoughtfully.
“All’s fair in love and war,” Vimes remarked (now why did that sound so familiar…), and Vetinari smiled, amused.
“Is that what this is, then?”
Returning the smirk, Vimes batted the Patrician’s hands out of his way for another kiss, saying, “Yeah. This is war.”
And no one could object otherwise.
