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The Rat’s Chamber is loud this afternoon; representatives of the city’s largest guilds are seated down one long side of the table, and each man studiously avoids looking at the axe buried in the lacquered wood before them.
Vimes sits alone, on the other side of the axe. Vetinari muses on the probable symbolism of this from his position at the head of the table, where he listens to the raised voices with increasing - yet well-concealed - irritation.
The argument has been going on for some time, and Vimes is getting laid into from all angles. He is, however, defending himself deftly against every accusation and thinly veiled threat that is lobbed in his direction.
He is lobbing a fair amount of his own back in return.
Vetinari would be willing to intervene, but he knows absolutely that to do so without invitation from Vimes would be highly detrimental to their…relationship.
The word relationship evokes an odd feeling within him. Vetinari cannot recall the last time he had cause to use it in regard to himself; at least, in the manner it refers to now.
That is, an intimate relationship.
Thinking of it in those terms gives him a small thrill, and as Downey demands to know what Vimes is planning to do about…well, something that evidently has him very irate, Vetinari wrestles a small smile to prevent it from taking over his lips. He leans forward and covers his mouth with his hand, as an additional layer of protection against intrusive glances.
He tries very hard not to stare at Vimes, ignoring the colour in the man’s cheeks and dilation of his pupils that indicate he is very much riled, and the clenched fists that show he is fighting every impulse to act on it.
But the image is reminiscent of seeing the man in other – more intimate – ways. The way he looks when Vetinari has him spread, flushed and dishevelled, on the bed. Or, on one memorable occasion, on the table before them.
The fingers covering his mouth tap distractedly against his lips.
Vetinari hears his name mentioned and briefly drags his focus back to the argument, but it seems no one is awaiting his input, so he returns his attention to Vimes.
He has to remind himself, sometimes, that Vimes was not born into this. He had no noble upbringing; no elite education. No upper-class role models to instil the confidence that comes from believing you are the most important person in every room.
Some element of it must come to him naturally, then, instead; ingrained within his nature. The people in this room are some of the most powerful individuals in the city, and yet Vetinari has never once seen Vimes intimidated by any of them.
By anyone, in fact. Not even Vetinari himself. Because even before he became part of the nobility, Vimes showed respect to authority only in a kind of abstract way; when it was required for him to keep his job. As an alcoholic, barely keeping himself out of the gutter, he would still go toe to toe with the likes of Rust and Downey.
On two very memorable occasions he has even arrested Vetinari.
A man who would arrest his absolute ruler; what could you do with such a man, if not elevate him? Execute him? Of course not; what a waste, that would be.
Vetinari listens to Vimes tear Boggis apart over a spate of unlicenced thieving, and muses that ultimately, he had to promote the man to give him a social status that finally matched the fire that burned within him.
At times like these, Vetinari finds it fascinating to light the man’s touchpaper and then stand well back; a strange pride swells within him to see Vimes skilfully cut through the bluff and bluster.
He is filled, suddenly, with an urge to somehow convey that to Vimes.
Thankfully the meeting is coming to a close, or at least, everyone is finally tired of shouting at one another and has quietened down. Vimes seems to have won, but the others would undoubtedly insist it had not been a competition.
Vetinari raises an eyebrow and finally speaks. “Thank you, gentlemen. This has been…enthralling. I look forward to discussing it all again next week. For now, however, you may leave.”
There are glances exchanged at the abruptness of the dismissal, but no one is in the mood to argue further. The men get up and start to shuffle out.
“Commander, would you remain for a moment, please?”
Vimes frowns with suspicion, but stands still behind his vacated chair while the great and the good file out past him. He looks ready for round two and as soon as they are alone, he turns to the Patrician and immediately starts talking.
“Look, I’m sorry. But they were talking bollocks. Downey has been up my backside for weeks about that assassin I arrested, and Boggis needs to bloody remember who does the real policing in this city – ”
He stops then, because Vetinari has swiftly covered the distance between them and has a very distinctive look on his face.
“Ah…?” Vimes gets out, and then Vetinari is pressing him back against the table, one hand in his hair and the other gripping his hip to hold him in place as he kisses him.
Vetinari’s kisses are usually fairly reserved, to start with – though admittedly, they don’t tend to remain that way for very long. This one, however, starts out as anything but; it seems watching Vimes hold his own against the guild leaders has sparked something in him and so he kisses Vimes like he might be able to consume him.
Vetinari makes a mental note to examine that more closely, later.
Vimes is evidently surprised at the turn of events, but he always did adapt quickly. He takes a second to gather himself and then kisses back, leaning into the contact, his fingers clutching Vetinari’s hips tightly and pulling him closer.
They stand like that for a long moment, until Vetinari pulls back. They are in a public space, after all, and it wouldn’t do to get caught. That may give the guild leaders enough ammunition to come at Vimes in a way he couldn’t defend himself against. If that were to come to pass, Vetinari would be forced to intercede; Vimes’ pride be damned.
He is musing on this while Vimes blinks and gathers himself.
The man gives an embarrassed cough, his cheeks flushing. “Right. I mean, that was…unexpected. I thought I was going to get a bollocking.” He hesitates. “I mean, it was good, though. I’m certainly not complaining.” A small frown crosses his brow. “I thought you had a rule, no funny business at work?”
Vetinari raises an eyebrow. “What good is being a tyrant if you cannot break your own rules?”
Vimes just glares at him, and Vetinari sighs. “You handled yourself very well during that, Vimes. It merely spurred me to demonstrate my…appreciation…of you.”
The commander narrows his eyes. “I nearly launched Downey out of the bloody window.”
Vetinari smiles. “I am aware. And yet, you did not.” He feels instinctively that if he tells Vimes he is proud of him – not just today, but always - he will risk defenestration himself, and so he does not share that particular feeling.
Vimes grunts, but still looks suspicious. “Alright.” He looks vaguely around the empty room. “Don’t envy you dealing with this bunch every day.”
Vetinari puts his head to one side. “Some days they are easier to deal with than others, Commander.” When you are beside me, he does not say, and files that thought away for later consideration, too.
For now, however, Vetinari redirects the talk back to matters of state until Vimes is officially off the clock, at which point there is much less talking altogether.