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English
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pine4pine 2024
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Published:
2024-09-02
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1,181
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1/1
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Need to Know

Summary:

Youssef attempts to get the truth out of Assane.

Notes:

Work Text:

Youssef watches carefully as Assane sips from the little plastic cup, chained hand barely able to make it to his mouth with the length of the handcuff attaching him to the desk. Youssef’s shoulders settle as he watches the water disappear between Assane's lips. He sips from his own cup with satisfaction.

 

He's got him now.

 

"Tell me how you knew that the jewel would be in transit that morning," Youssef says, pen at the ready above his notebook.

 

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me about why you brought me to the station without contacting any of your colleagues?" Assane asks, smile pulling at the easy set of his mouth. That's fine- it will take a little while for the dose to start working. He'll be talking soon enough.

 

"Oh, they know," Youssef lies. "They'll be here soon."

 

"Of course," Assane says, that charming smile breaking into a grin. Youssef feels his chest heating up, being in such close proximity to Lupin: the thrill of the chase, the euphoria of- at last- victory. He knows that those handcuffs can't hold him- but he gambled on Assane playing along long enough that he'd be able to dose him with the truth serum. He's won.

 

Soon, he'll have everything he needs from him.

 

"The jewel," he prompts again. "How did you know."

 

"I received notice from a few... contacts," Assane says, still reticent. That won't last long.

 

"What contacts," Youssef pushes, leaning forward in his seat. This late at night, the station is empty, even the hum of monitors gone silent. His pulse is racing, this close to victory. He'll unearth all of Lupin's networks, get everything in one fell swoop.

 

Assane doesn't say anything; just keeps smiling. Youssef can wait, though. He watches as Assane traces a long finger in careful, lingering circles on the wooden surface of the desk, dragging slightly as it crosses the pattern of the grain. Youssef keeps his eyes on Assane's face for a long time; and then, eventually, his gaze falls to that finger. Assane's nails are so clean and well maintained. Does he even disguise those, when he fools everyone? Youssef can't imagine seeing those nails and not immediately knowing that the man on the other end of them is refined; powerful; beautiful. The progress of his fingerpad across the table makes Youssef's cheeks go warm imagining the way it must feel. It's undeniably sensual, the touch of that single finger. Mesmerizing.

 

"Your contacts," Youssef says again, shaking his head to keep himself focused.

 

"Officer Belkacem," Assane murmurs, smile not falling from his face. "Your Captain Laugier."

 

Youssef sucks in a sharp breath. That's-

 

"Impossible," he says, staring at Assane's handsome smile. "They're not- they can't be working for you."

 

"Why not?" Assane asks, leaning his chin on his hand, the slight metallic noise of the handcuffs doing nothing to break through the thickness of the silence, the weighty tension in the air.

 

"Because," Youssef says, unthinking, "if anyone were to inform for you, it would be me."

 

"Oh?" Assane says, lips quirking. "Is that why you brought me here alone, tonight? Why you didn't tell them?"

 

"No," Youssef says, mouth dry. Of course not. He brought Assane here alone to- to- "I'm interrogating you," he says.

 

"With truth serum?" Assane laughs, sitting back in his chair. "You and I both know that's a risky venture."

 

"It's not risky," Youssef protests. "It's perfectly safe. It just lowers your-"

 

"Inhibitions, yes," Assane says, raising a hand to rub at his chin. The handcuff has disappeared from his wrist. "That's not what I was referring to." He nods meaningfully at the two paper cups on the desk.

 

"Oh," Youssef says, staring at his empty cup woodenly. No wonder he feels so dazed. "I- you switched them."

 

"Yes," Assane says, amused, standing up and walking around the desk to pat Youssef on the shoulder. Youssef slowly turns his head to look up at him, feeling a brilliant flush rise to his cheeks. This close, he can smell him. "I hadn't really expected you to make it this easy, but can I trouble you to tell me where the files on the Maron case from 2014 are?"

 

"The top drawer of Belkacem's desk," Youssef murmurs before shaking his head. "Wait,” he attempts, “you can't-"

 

"Much obliged," Assane replies, moving towards the desk. Youssef finds himself inclining after him, as if drawn by a magnet- but he can't move very far, his hand gets stuck. He looks down and sees Assane's handcuff attached to his wrist, tethering him to the desk. He feels so dizzy; the sight makes him swallow. Cuffed, yet again. By the gentleman thief, Arsène Lupin.

 

“This isn’t what I planned,” he says, pulling futilely at the cuff. 

 

“Oh?” Assane says, rising from the desk, a sheaf of papers already in his hands. “Do you want to tell me what you had planned?”

 

“Interrogation,” Youssef says plaintively, letting the hand fall into his lap. “I needed to know about you.”

 

“Don’t you think you know plenty about me, Ganimard?” Assane says, flicking a finger against the papers in pleasure. “It’s more than any of your colleagues do.”

 

“They have no idea,” Youssef says, gazing at him. Assane is so, so handsome; so capable, so daring. The best thief in the world. Only a great detective would be able to bring him down. “No idea,” he repeats.

 

“You’ve been a great help to me tonight,” Assane says, coming close enough to touch- if not for the stymying interference of the handcuff. Youssef suddenly remembers that he carries the key on him; but when he touches his pocket, it is, of course, not there. “How about this? A reward,” Assane says teasingly. “For my informant.” 

 

Youssef gapes at him, skin goosebumping. He hasn’t- nor would he ever- willingly turn over information from official investigations. It’s the truth serum. Just that. He should have been more careful.

 

Assane’s low, pleasant voice continues speaking, eroding Youssef’s control. “You can have a secret- just for you,” he says. Youssef’s whole body goes hot. His reward. “But to get it,” Assane muses, reaching out to adjust Youssef’s shirt collar, “you’ll have to ask the right question.”

 

Youssef stares up at him, lips parted, for a long moment, skin tingling where the fabric moved over it. He knows Assane won’t stay long; won’t wait for him to compose himself. He only has one chance.

 

One question.

 

What does he need to know about Lupin?

 

Endless thoughts race through his mind: where Assane lives, who he works with, his next theft, his methods of acquiring police information. His weaknesses; his tells. What can be done to stop him. The locations of stolen treasures long missing. Confirmation of Youssef’s hypotheses on unsolved cases. What can he ask? What will Assane answer? He’ll simply walk away if Youssef poses the wrong question. Walk away- and then this night will be at an end.

 

It’s too much; only one thing surfaces through the noise.

 

“Your first theft,” he breathes.

 

Assane laughs- and he tells him.