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theredwritingwitch · 1 year

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Dinner for Fools

Pairing: The Thief x fem!reader

Summary: Your Thief is considered the best in the world, but how do the other greatest thieves in the world compare? And after a night of learning how to catch a thief, how do you compare?

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: cursing, stealing, lost of stealing, fun fluff, alcohol consumption

Ratings: M

Author’s Note: mi alma my soul

Do You Know Your Den Is Full Of Thieves…

From China, Mexico, Australia, South Africa, and to France; they all crowded around the long dining table. Painted faces of long dead and forgotten nobles hung high on the walls of the dining room, watching the circle of conspiring yet cagey criminals collude over the candle lit table and mutter under their breaths to the shadows behind their backs. Blueprints were spread amongst the flowing wine just as photos were passed around the hushed plotters. And at the head of the table, sipping his favorite wine away, was the Thief. Content as the king of thieves, with his devious minions eyeing him up and down as his own eyes watched the swirl of red wine in his glistening glass. Here he had invited all the world’s greatest thieves, all except you.

You lurked around the edges of the room, in and around the cracked doors, and eavesdropped through the hidden halls behind rigged paintings. Working for the world’s greatest thief had many advantages; a good salary, nice benefits, and decent trips around the world. Once in a while, the Thief would gift you an expensive, and more than likely stolen, gift. He dazzled and spoiled you like you were one of the many statues he placed in the corners of his mansion. It helped that you swore your loyalty to the man, signing the dotted line as proof. You dusted and shined his treasures, scheduled his travel destinations, and swept his messes. You even had to put out a small fire in the wine storage once. You knew of his “jobs” or his gigs, but you knew not to speak so much of them. His travel, plans, ideas, and even his name was kept under lock and key; it was a sign and seal contract. There was a clear understanding, a fine line, in what questions you could ask and how much you were allowed to snoop.

It was intriguing to you how detailed the job was but how amused the Thief was of your curious and cunning mind. The former assistant of the house was much more severe and dedicated to the practical nature of the job. He had found you between jobs, stating that his employer had asked for you personally. He interviewed you several times, even as the Thief had told him on countless occasions that you were hired. You did the tasks that your new employer asked of you, while still playing ball with the old assistant to satisfy his need for professionality as well as satisfying your need to prove to him that you were perfect for the job. It didn’t take long for him to concede and retire, granting you your new title and office with a new beautifully polished wooden desk that the Thief had taken from some parliament house.

The report between you and the Thief didn’t take long for you to fill. You were told not to ask questions or to bat an eye at the curious nature and details of the job. But curiosity never killed the cat in your mind, and the Thief was fond of cats.

“Nine lives,” the Thief had stated out of the blue one day.

“What?”

“Cats have nine lives, yet you’ve used all nine of them and then some.” His smile was contagious as you smiled right back at him.

“Is this in relation to the no questions, no accidents rule?”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled. “Maybe I should change that rule in the job contract?”

“Probably. You have let me ask more than nine questions. Your other employees never made it this far did they?”

He shook his head no, “Not a one.”

“Obviously this job isn’t for everyone,” you joked.

The Thief tucked your hand in the crook of his arm, “Well you and I aren’t like most people, aren’t we mi alma.”

As his job was delicate in its nature, so were your questions. But his answers never stopped or faltered no matter how much you poked at him or how carefully you watched him. Truthfully he seemed to enjoy your inquisitive nature, basked in your adoring eyes. His need for secrecy didn’t bother you, his undercover title of world’s greatest thief needed no explanation as far as the job’s details go. All the other jobs you had couldn’t compare to this one. Unbothered by the clear thievery going on, you stuck to your thief. Even when you wanted more.

So here you were, watching and waiting behind old paintings in thin hidden halls. The whispers, no matter how quiet, were heard by your ears. Even the slight-of-hand slips of paper were seen under your present eyes. You didn’t like the idea of these people plotting behind the thief’s back, even though he seemed unbothered by the folk. You watched him smell his wine and glide it around his glass as you told him so earlier.

“There’s always a fool, let’s find out who it is,” he shrugged.

Sitting in the dark hall alone to listen to the chimes of glass and giggle of schemers, you felt like you were the fool tonight. Sure you were content on most nights with this job, never bored that was for sure. But you didn’t want to be waiting at the hand of anyone for the rest of your life. You needed more, needed to find your own treasure as the Thief would put it. Although you were no thief of your own, that wasn’t your style. You planned, you coordinated, but never took what wasn’t yours, unless the Thief gifted it to you that is. But that was different. No, you wanted something of your own. Your eyes slowly ran down the table of thieves, watching as they mulled over plans, until you settled on your Thief. He relaxed and studied his wine, interjecting with stories to the conversation every now and again, but he didn’t participate in the scheming.

His plaid coat stretched nicely over his shoulders as he slowly walked around the table, leaning into his compatriots and eyeing the plans in front of them. You watched as his deft fingers casually floated over the backs of the chairs, his other hand brushing his graying beard before running a string of hair away from his eye. His hair looked so delectably soft in the candlelight of the night, and you knew it was since you were the one who had helped style it earlier, smiling to yourself when you watched his eyes close as your fingers ran through the soft curls. The Thief continued his route around the table, chuckling and conversing by leaning close to the other thieves’ ears. He often did that to you, feeling his nose lightly trace your ear as his breath slid past your cheek. The only difference here was that he would always hold your elbow or arm to him, anchoring you to your spot and to him. You waited without fail to every word he said during these talks, not a bone in your body could tear you away. And in the end, you always wanted him to whisper more.

Finally making his way near his own seat, you listened with interest to a story you had heard many times already, one the Thief loved to tell again and again. Truly he loved a good challenge, no matter if he was the one to take it or dish it out. He retold the story and warned the thieves of the Devil’s protection on the wine, ending the story with a swirl of wine running down his throat. You rolled your eyes to the warning, unimpressed that everyone seemed to be so unperturbed. You knew, as well as the Thief, there would be at least one fool to look out for in the night.

They all chuckled and poked fun at the tale while an amused Thief lifted his eyes from his guests to take a sip of wine, landing his sight directly on you. You held your breath as the man seemed to look right through the cut eyes of the painting and into your own as you sat still in the dark secret passage. Unblinking, you held his focus until he finally gave a nod almost to himself and finished his wine. Rising from his seat, just as you rose from yours, a declared the evening over and for the guests to return to their rooms at their leisure. You rushed out of the passage to your own office as the Thief walked out of the dining room, leaving his guest to their wandering eyes and fingers.

“What are the odds this time?” The thief walked into your office as you had just settled yourself with your own drink for the night.

“100% they will all try to steal from you,” you stated without missing a beat.

“You have no faith in my friends,” the Thief pouted and then quickly smiled, “I give it a 60/40 chance.”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“In letting them steal? We’ve discussed this.” He leaned across the desk to you.

“No, you’re mistaken in thinking they are your friends,” you leaned up to him with a mocking tone.

“Well that’s where you're wrong, what’s the phrase? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” The Thief grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the office.

“And what am I then?”

“Maybe tonight is the night you find out,” he patted your hand and winked before letting you go. You rolled your eyes at him but bit your lip when he turned away.

“Let’s go see who's wandering around the halls tonight, shall we.” His smug face widened as he swung a portrait open to let the two of you enter the secret passage.

Yes, Well Let The Games Begin…

A guest was already missing. The Thief had led you further down the passage, viewing several different rooms in the mansion including the music room, the parlor, and the games room. The guests were scattered in these three rooms, along with meandering the halls and their own bedrooms for the night. A few seemed to partake in communing still together, but others decided to snoop on their own. All were in the same area, except one.

The Thief spied that the group was missing a guest instantly.

“He kept asking about the history of our home, schmoozing the layout out of me. I’ve heard you have a collection of art, is it true? Maybe we could have a tour,” the Thief mocked the young missing criminal.

“And now where do you suppose he is? Dancing with your sculptures or fingering through your books?”

The Thief pouted and glanced back at you, “He wouldn’t dare finger my things.”

“Didn’t you see him eye the silverware?”

“I did but that’s such petty thievery.”

“I have a feeling he’s not a thinker and just a looter.”

“Looters are just hoarders,” the Thief scoffed. “Mi alma, there is nothing I detest more than someone without any taste. You go off to the art wing and I’ll go to the library.”

“Isn’t the fun of tonight is to see if they can actually steal anything?”

“The rest of them can try. They’re real thieves after all. But a looter.” The thief shook his head, “He’ll finger everything he can. And I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that here.”

You let out a little giggle as the Thief came to an abrupt stop, spinning towards you.

“You know what to do if you find him,” the Thief lifted your chin up to his dark amber eyes. You nodded to him, smirking at the fun night that was ahead. “Perfect, stay hidden, stay safe. I’ll find you later.” With a kiss to your forehead, he was off, walking towards the library.

Letting out a sigh, you watched the man briskly walk off. Many times you were left wandering the halls of this mansion, wondering if this Thief knew the effect he had on you. Even if you were hosting guests tonight, your walk in the halls felt like many other nights; your mind running with an onslaught of what-if and maybe-so. You loved this job, it wasn’t like anything else you’ve experienced before. But that was mostly due to the relationship you had with your Thief.

He was certainly a tease, and he damn well knew it. And damn you, you loved it, especially when you gave it right back to him. The two of you danced around each other all the time. You both got along famously; he would bring you lunch as you worked away and he would sometimes leisure his time away in your office. The Thief spoiled you in clothes and jewelry. He ravished paintings to decorate your office and books to decorate your mind. Often he would whisk you away to trips abroad with him, hang onto your every word as well as deplore you to settle down for an evening with him next to a fire. But every night, without fail, he would bid you goodnight, leaving you wanting more but never understanding if you should go for it. And now was no different. You longed to run after him, tackling him with your own kiss. But the Thief disappeared into the dark hall, you then went your own way.

It’s Only Thieves Catching Thieves…

To catch a thief could be a hard task for some. But to catch a thief stealing from a thief was simply a grand game. It didn’t happen often, but tonight was a different kind of night. Once a year, the world’s greatest thieves would come to discuss and converse schemes and plans, trade stories, and give tips. Or at least they were supposed to, every year one or more would try their luck to grab a treasure or two. The Thief was always happy to host and to boast. No one was ever able to steal from him, never one successful soul. The Thief thrived from his art, but he always wanted to see his compatriots thrive as well, see how they fared, and how they failed, leaving him to be the world's greatest thief.

Your helping hand would play a part in this. Like past years there was always someone prowling around, and tonight the youngest thief was delving into the art wing of the mansion. Behind the peephole walls, you watched as the young man browsed the art as if he were window shopping. He had not a care in the world to whom the trove of off limits artwork belonged to. That aggravated you, even though by retrospect the art wasn’t technically owned by the thief, but you still guarded the art and everything else in your home just as a dragon to its hoard.

The young thief wound his way through the gallery and you followed him behind the false walls. Soon he found himself in the jewelry section of the wing, and from the looks of it, the young man was on track to where the thief predicted at least one greedy guest would find themselves. As if by command or by fate, the thief eyed one of the most expensive and legendary pieces in the display. The Romanov family of Russia were long gone but they’re jewels sat in the Kremlin as well as in the delicate display in the Thief’s mansion. Here in front of the man was a marble statue covered in the jewels; a sapphire and diamond diadem, a sapphire bracelet, and an emerald necklace. You watched from right behind the marble statue through a one way mirror, your hand gently holding a round knob, turning it slowly as the thief raised his hands. Another statue, just behind the thief, rotated in his direction. The sound of stone on stone echoed through the hall, causing the thief to stop and turn to look for any potential visitors. When he saw no one, and didn’t even see the moved statue, he continued his pursuit in investigating the family jewels.

Your hand moved to the next knob, turning it and thus turning another statue to watch the thief and his pursuit of thrift. Again the man stopped in his tracks and looked around but then quickly went back to work. He slowly lifted the diadem from the statue's head, giving you enough time to turn two more knobs, moving two more statues to view the man of crime. The young thief jumped as the sound of stone moving echoed to him, dropping the diadem back onto the statue just to turn around and freeze under the direct stare of four other statues. You watched as his head snapped from statue to statue, cursing his senses, which gave you an opportunity to make your appearance. Quietly, as the young thief brain ran in circles, you pushed the mirror open and then swiveled it shut behind you. You waited patiently for the thief to come to his senses before he finally turned back around to you, nearly jumping out of his skin as he was surprised to see you. Sweetly you asked if you could escort the man back to his room, to which he instantly nodded his approval. With a quick move to adjust the diadem back in place, you whisked the young thief out of the art wing and to his room, only giving him one small warning of potentially heading to bed sooner than later. The door to his room shut before you finished your sentence, which made you smile. One job done, but the night was young and there were more thieves waiting in the shadows including your own.

There’s Always A First Time For Everything…

Your own Thief had caught one of the older gentleman thieves perusing the library, placing his hands on the first draft of Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. A sting attached to the book, sprang when pulled, gave the poor man a fright when all the lights in the room flickered on and off, allowing your Thief to place himself in a chair near the fireplace. The old man almost threw the book across the room when the Thief told him that his home was not a public library.

The rest of the night was quite the same. The Thief predicted the movements and goals of his fellow heisters extremely well. The night was long already, but you enjoyed it with your Thief. Running around the secret passages of the mansion. The two of you watched as one by one the guests made their way to various parts of the home. But one by one they fell into each one of the Thief’s traps. The aristocratic thief tried to pilfer the Florentine Diamond, but was struck down when a yellow powder came off of the diamond and stuck to her hands, clothes, and everything she touched. Another thief with a long beard placed his hands on the frame of Raphael’s Portrait of a Young Man, but was zapped in his hands, leaving him with a numbing sensation. The elegant thief even tried to dismantle the lock off of Blackbeard’s centuries old treasure chest. You and the Thief both stood dumbfounded that she had a crowbar in hand for the all too obvious theft.

Even between all the running around and corralling, you could see the smile wide and vibrant on the Thief’s face. Often the two of you would pass each other in the back passageways of the home, the Thief squeezing your hand with each pass or grabbing you around your waist and twirling you around, your giggles brightening his smile. There were a few times he snuck up on you, rubbing your shoulders as you watched patiently to see who would steal what. Sometimes he would whisper praises or funny quips into your ears, brushing your hair behind your ear and leaving you with a kiss on your neck. You shivered with every touch and not only did you keep an eye out for snoops but for your Thief as well.

The night was for catching thieves, and you had been doing that well, but it got you thinking. What would you steal? If you had the cunning or the speed, even the desire or the talk to take whatever you wanted, what treasure would you make your own?

You were always fond of the written word, even poetry. Maybe the lyrics of the Greek poetess Sappho would satisfy you. Or you could take an oddity like Michelangelo's Mask of a Faun. Surely that would be so weird the Thief would never think you would take it. Perhaps the Scepter of Dagobert could be yours, everyone needed a piece of some country’s crown jewels, even if it was France’s. You walked through the halls, alone to your footsteps as you gazed from painting to painting, when suddenly you stopped and bit down a smile that slowly formed on your face. You knew, yes you knew exactly what you would steal.

Your heart raced as you dashed through the halls of the mansion, taking the nearest passage behind a bookcase as a shortcut. The night would be ending soon and you had no time to spare.

Including A Dinner For Two…

“These dinner parties are always such a joy,” the elderly thief said as your Thief guided her to her room after she took a nap in the parlor. The Thief held her hand and smirked down at her hunched over form and her tiny gray wool slippered feet shuffling on the floor. He was worried the least about this one. But what he was worried about now was your whereabouts. He hadn’t seen you in awhile and his senses were telling him to go find you, as soon as he dropped off his dear elderly friend at her room.

“Well you always bring joy to the parties, don’t you know.”

The elderly thief laughed and patted his arm, “Always charming, even when you don’t need to be.”

“You never know who might be listening,” the Thief glanced around the halls for any sign of you.

“Isn’t that true, well here I am. You go on now and I’ll see you in the morning for brunch.”

The Thief smiled as he watched the elderly thief walk into her room and shut the door. He knew that was the last he would have to deal with her. Sharply he turned and moved to where he last saw you. He looked all over the library, then the art wing, through the dining hall, in the games room, and back to your office. You were nowhere to be found, which worried him incredibly. Striding through the halls with a cress in his brow, he finally came to a halt when he saw a painting swinging off the wall. He sighed and hoped that he wouldn’t find you inside the one place he had always warned people to never steal from. Truthfully he was really hurt that you may have gone against the only rule he was actually hard on. His last assistant paid the consequences for stealing, he had high hopes you were different. Glancing inside, half expecting to find a small fire ignited, he let out a long breath to find nothing. No fire, no ash. But suspiciously he found one spot in his wine collection missing. Clicking the painting closed, the Thief smirked down the hall, knowing full well where you liked to dine the most.

There was a small potted garden you kept on the southern balcony of the third floor. The walls were decorated with the remains of the walls of the Amber Room of Prussia. Panels of glittering amber and gold leaf decorated the walls of the far room, shining down golden rays onto your plants. You said that when you sat on the balcony at night you could feel the grace of the moon and the sun at the same time.

Sure enough, that’s where the Thief found you. Basking in the glow of both the moon and amber, you sat with two plates of delicious smelling food and wine in front of you.

“I thought out of everyone, you would be the least likely to be the fool,” the Thief announced as he entered the room. You smiled at him and jumped from your seat.

“Are you saying I’m a fool for trying to treat you after a long night of running around? I think you're the fool in this situation!”

The Thief chuckled and stepped closer as he took in the plated food. Plated up was a charred vegetable ragù and a beautifully sinful chocolate snack cake, both baked with red wine from his collection. You had made these creations for him before, and he nearly ate every serving of food available. He was already salivating at the meal.

“It’s not stealing if you give it right back as a gift in the form of a delicious meal, mi alma.” the Thief smiled and kissed your hand.

“I know. I don’t have the heart to steal, but just go along with it for my sake?” you begged as you motioned for him to take a seat, taking your own opposite of him.

The Thief lifted up a single edge of his mouth in a smile and just quietly stared at you.

“What?” you questioned as you squirmed under his gaze.

His smile softened as he leaned in and took your hand again, “You say you have no heart to steal yet you’ve stolen my heart time and time again.”

You paused and studied the Thief’s face. He was no liar, at least not to you. His eyes swam over you as his thumb ran up and down your hand. You looked away and sucked in a breath, “You never tried to steal mine?”

“Just waiting for you to make the first move.”

“Lucas,” the Thief hummed in delight as you said his name, “you’re a very patient man.”

“Years of practice, mi alma.”

His hand grabbed yours again as he stood and pulled you up and forward as his fingers dug into your hair and held you to him, locking your lips to his. You sucked air in through your nose as his tongue sought entry and danced with yours. His plush lips moved and sucked yours as his arm moved behind you and around your waist. You moaned and leaned into him, basking now in his adoring affection. Alone together in the silent night, he was yours and only yours. Slowly he pulled away, giving you one quick yet smoldering peck to your upper lip as he looked down at you. A look of pure and intense astonishment graced his face, one you were sure mirrored your own.

He opened his mouth to speak when suddenly his face changed to one of annoyance. The Thief looked away from you, towards the hall.

“I‘ve suddenly got a bad feeling.”

“What about?” you questioned as you sang a quick prayer in your head that it wasn’t about you.

“Someone has left their room,” he sighed.

Your head dropped to hit his chest, “Again?”

“We’ll make this quick, mi alma, I promise.”

You nodded and followed him hand in hand to where his intuition led him.

Silent and left alone, the painting that the Thief had closed just earlier was open again. A small crackle could be heard as well as a small bellow of smoke could be seen coming out of the opening. Once inside, you and your Thief were met with a fire and a pair of tiny gray wool slippers. A pair that the Thief remembered seeing the elderly thief wear.

“And she was always so nice,” the Thief mumbled.

“What?” you questioned him as you looked from him to the fire.

“Nothing, just someone lost their slippers I suppose.”

“The slippers are what you’re concerned about? Not the fire?”

The Thief chuckled and smiled down at you, “Nope, I knew it would happen.” He led you back out of the room, closing the painting behind him. “You know tonight may have been your first step into thievering but tomorrow I say we set off to Europe, have ourselves a road trip of burglary and piracy. We’ll take a look at some museums, visit some history, meet new people…”

“Are you really not going to put that fire out?” you pinched his side.

“It puts itself out,” he stated as he waved his hand.

Burying into his chest, “You say that so casually, like it’s normal.”

“You’ll understand soon,” he smiled into your hair. “Now about this road trip…”

#The Thief #Casillero del Diablo #the thief x reader #the thief x you #thethief/you #Thethief/reader #pedro pascal

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