Disclaimers:  I didn't write this.  You didn't see this.  Of course they aren't my characters.  I'd admit it if they were, but since I didn't write this...  You understand of course.
Rated:  PG?  Maybe?  Implied m/m... interest.  Forget relationships.  Nothing's happening at this point.  You'll see.
Note:  How in the hell did I end up writing Eroica fic?!? It's got to be Sleeps With Coyote's fault, right?
 

Even and Odds

"So what do you think, B?"  G's light, teasing tenor rose up over the conversation and the agent he'd addressed sighed audibly as he turned around.

"I think this is a mistake," B answered cheerfully as he settled back against the bar, his elbows braced on the wax-polished wood.  "And I'll go a hundred marks that the Major eventually pounces on him."

"What?!"  A turned to face him, eyes wide with shock.  "The Major?  Pounce on Eroica?"

B grinned, a sudden mischievous smile that took five years off his already youthful appearance.  "You're welcome to bet against me."

"Oh, God in Heaven," A groaned.  "If he finds out--"

Bonham's cheerful voice asked, "If who finds out what?"

"Dear God."  A buried his head in his hands.  "I'm not here, I don't know about this--"

In a sweetly reasonable tone of perfect helpfulness, G pointed out, "He'll hold you responsible no matter what if he finds out, you know.  Because if you didn't know then you should have.  We all know the Major will see it that way."  He paused to adjust his hair just so over the pale green blouse he was wearing before adding, "So you might as well place your bet."

Bonham raised an eyebrow, then waved the bartender over and ordered half a liter of dark beer.  "So, what's Uncle NATO going to disapprove of this time?"

"I'm going to end up in Alaska," A moaned into the bar's uncaring wood, his head down on folded arms.  "I don't have enough sweaters and my wife won't go with me!"

"He's only going to find out if one of us tells him," Z pointed out.  "And I'm not going to.  Not when I'm putting money down on it, too."  The agent turned to Bonham and Jones and explained, "I say the Major will break down and pounce on Eroica."

"And I'll go in for a hundred," G said cheerfully, "that it'll never happen."

Bonham shook his head.  "What kind of time limit are you setting for this betting pool?"

The Alphabet looked back and forth at each other, then Z asked thoughtfully, "How long have they known each other?"

"Five years," A told him without lifting his head.

Jones coughed to cover a less delicate sound.  "Five years and a bit.  And m'lord's never pushed the Major to kill him yet."

"It's been close a few times," D muttered, but didn't argue any more than that.

"Right," Bonham said decisively, his voice as stolidly reliable as his appearance.  "His lordship'll manage it somehow.  I'll put in a hundred marks, too, that he catches Uncle NATO in the next five years."

Jones chuckled and wordlessly held out a hundred marks of his own.  "I'm in with Bonham.  But who holds the money?"

The assembled NATO agents and thieves looked back and forth at each other.  "Honor among thieves, hmm?" F asked, trying not to sound too dubious.  He'd heard that Eroica's men were usually quite competent and very helpful for some odd reason.  Well, except for the accountant, whose name alone made the NATO finance officer hide behind his desk and reach for his bottle of tranquilizers.

"You Alphabets do tend to get sent to Alaska, if not shot," Bonham pointed out mildly. 

G sighed and held out one elegantly manicured hand.  "I may be an agent, but I'm the medic," he pointed out.  "They try to keep me alive and around."

"Right," Jones agreed briskly, handing over his marks.  "And if you played fast and loose with the money, we'd see to it your tailor got a new set of measurements for you."

"Oh, don't do that," G implored him, paling slightly at the threat to his wardrobe and social life.  "I'm honest."

Bonham pointed out wryly, "And drooling over the Major.  No interfering with the pool."

"Or chasing his lordship," Z added politely but firmly as he handed over his cash.  "Are we doing odds on this?"

"Whatever comes in, goes out to whoever's correct?" A suggested, then moaned.  "Oh, God, and I'm helping!"

G said ruthlessly, "Yes, so you might as well get in on the bet.  If you win, you and your wife could have a lovely vacation."

"Eroica is more likely to trip over that penurious accountant of yours than he is to catch the Major," A argued, but he held out a hundred marks.  "Right.  I'm betting with G.  It'll never happen."

One by one, the men there placed their bets and G neatly wrote down who was betting on what.  A meanwhile got steadily drunk, muttering helplessly about the odds of getting caught.

"You're starting to sound like James," D told him cruelly, and ducked the blow that came at him, then caught A over his shoulder when he passed out.  "I'll take him up to his room," he offered and Z nodded. 

"Right.  C and E should be here soon and maybe we can quit waiting."

Bonham shrugged.  "We're waiting, too.  His Lordship will let us know soon enough what's going on."

Z looked up at the cash he'd been neatly putting into order for G and reluctantly pointed out, "You may know sooner than we do."

"If we do, we'll let you know if we can.  And honestly, I wouldn't worry so much about the odds of the Major finding out," Bonham said practically, "as about the ways he'd find to get even."

Even Z blanched at that thought, and put his beer down.  "Perhaps I have had enough tonight."  He glanced at G, then ordered, "Don't lose those bets or that book.  But hide it all."

"Absolutely," G caroled.

"And don't let James hear about this!" Jones ordered firmly.  "We won't tell him, but don't you slip, either." 

The imagined reactions of the tiny accountant -- wails, tears, gnashing of teeth, canceling of credit cards and reservations, and outrageous bills to NATO -- sent shudders rippling around the room.  In the middle of it, Z paused by the doorway and said slowly, "Bonham?"

"Hmm?"

"What would his Lordship do if he found out about the bet?" 

"Well," Bonham said thoughtfully, dragging his mind to a much more pleasant contemplation, "he's too honorable to really tamper with it.  I mean, he's going to keep right on chasing the Major, but he certainly wouldn't change his strategies just to help someone win or lose this."

"Does he have enough of a sense of humor that he won't get us all reassigned to Alaska?" F inquired, raking black bangs away from his eyes.

"Oh, yes," G promised.  "He'll be disappointed that anyone bet against him, but he'll forgive us; we're supposed to support the Major, after all."

"Oh."  F shrugged then, and glanced at Z.  "What were you thinking?"

"That we're going to discuss it so we might as well put some money on it," the capable agent admitted.  "I just hope his Lordship doesn't become angry about all of it."

"Only if the Major refused to see him over it," B said immediately, then paused.  All of them, thieves and agents alike, froze as they considered that possibility and its ramifications.

Z, however, summed it up.  "Don't lose the book, G.  And the rest of us will keep our mouths shut and watch."

"Oh."  Jones chuckled ruefully and set his glass on the bar, with a tip for the bartender.  "Business as usual then.  Why didn't you just say so?"
 

~*~*~

finis 5/19/01; revised 5/30/01 and many thanks to Sleeps with Coyotes for the comments and suggestions.
 

Comments, complaints, and bets can be placed with Rhi