This story is largely based on the 'Guards' section of the Discworld books and the third Discworld game, 'Discworld Noir'. For those who don't know, 'Discworld Noir' concerns the doings of run-down hard-drinking ex-Watchman Lewton, the Discworld's first Private Investigator. He was thrown out of the Watch for taking a bribe and has a serious grudge against Vimes. A mutual feeling, it is revealed.

From the books, we know Vimes descended into alcoholism because he was 'brung low' by a woman. Being a slash writer, these two completely separate events merged in my mind as one. Was it just a bribe that caused Lewton to be cast out? And was it really a woman who knocked Vimes back, or was there more to it? Find out in the next exciting rendition of….Sorry, got a bit carried away there… But hopefully this will be a decent length story, though I won't try too hard to replicate a film noir style. This is basically because I can't.

Sam is in his late twenties/early thirties in this and Lewton is a couple of years older.

Disclaimer: I do not own Discworld or Discworld Noir.


It was a dark and stormy night. Sergeant Samuel Vimes of the Night Watch huddled in a shop doorway out of the rain and cursed all clichés. Somehow, the wind seemed to be directing the full brunt of the storm against him wherever he stood. Even under his long raincoat (borrowed from Herbert Gaskin, who was off-duty) he was soaked. He shivered and brought his hands up to his face to blow warm air over them.

Maybe it was because he was so occupied. Or maybe its because his attacker was extremely experienced in the art of stealthy moving. Whatever the reason was, Sam Vimes was taken completely by surprise when hands grabbed him and pulled him roughly from the doorway. Acting on instinct, he began to fight. Dirty street tricks were usually an assured way of beating off any attack, but he couldn't locate his attacker in the noise and bustle of the storm, and tiredness and the chill that had permeated them slowed his limbs. It wasn't long before he was dragged, kicking, gouging and biting, into a deserted nearby alleyway.

He gasped as his larger assailant pinned him, struggling helplessly against the cold damp wall. His struggles quashed by the superior strength and weight of his opponent, he could only stare at the shadowed gap where the face should be. He gulped as the body pressed closer. Ohgodsohgodsohgods, he was going to be raped, and there was no one around to help him. This was Ankh-Morpork after all. Held like a trussed bird, Sam couldn't even turn his head away as his face was grabbed by strong hands and brought forwards so his lips met his assailants' in a brutal searing kiss.

Sam fought briefly, then relaxed into the kiss as a very familiar taste penetrated his terror-fogged senses. His arms were released from where they were being held against the wall and he brought them up to encircle the now-recognised man. His attacker chuckled richly as he was roughly embraced.

Breathless, filled with euphoria, Sam pulled back and grinned stupidly at Corporal Ralph Lewton for a moment before common sense decided to return from its tea break and make its presence known in a very loud, very pissed-off voice. In a single quick movement, Sam knocked off the big hat that had been pulled down to obscure Lewton's face and his lover grinned roguishly as his ruggedly handsome features were revealed.

Almost idly, Lewton used his body weight to squash the lanky sergeant back to the wall. Said lanky and by now slightly annoyed sergeant gasped again as insistent hands fumbled to pull off his breastplate and replace it with a devilishly suggestive body that felt hotter than sin through the thin material of his shirt.

"Well, well Sammy," the accented voice purred. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

Sam tried not to shiver as moist breath wafted past his ear. "I hope you know Corporal," he began, his voice sounding shaken and a little weak. "That this could be construed as distracting an officer of the Law from his duty and," he struggled to concentrate as mischievous hands continued to work at his torso. "…sexual harassment," he concluded, finally.

There was another rumbling chuckle and his lips were recaptured. Unable to stop himself, Sam moaned into the unrestrainedly passionate kiss, feeling Lewton's tongue claiming him, invading him in the most heavenly, intimate way.

"You love being harassed, sergeant," the cocky voice said when they broke apart.

"Ralph…" Sam groaned, feeling his body begin to throb with need. He tried, he honestly tried to push him away, but Ralph was stronger than him.

"Am I breaking the law? You gonna cuff me, officer?" Ralph questioned, making 'cuff me' sound like an invitation.

"I…Ralphie, I'm on duty…I can't…" Sam broke off. Ralph's mouth was on the move, doing things to his neck that couldn't possibly be legal. "Please…" he murmured, his breath quickening as the feelings coursed through him.

Ralph paused and looked up at him, lust shining in dark brown eyes. "Arrest me, Sammy-boy."

In an almost animalistic response, Sam snarled, pushing Lewton away from him and savagely wrenching his arms behind his back. "Consider yourself nicked, matey," he growled into Ralph's ear as he dragged him off in the direction of their shared lodging, ignoring both abandoned armour and forlorn forgotten hat. Sergeant Sam Vimes could be remarkably focused when it came to something as simple as a routine arrest, especially when that routine arrest involved liberal application of chocolate sauce.