Disclaimer: Stan, I cannot believe you! You accuse me of cheating on you with DC, but then I turn around and next thing I know, you're in bed with Disney! How dare you!
A/N: Dedicated to Cute Little Foxy, who brainstormed this with me in one of the longest PM's I have ever participated in.
Twenty-two days after Merci LeBeau received a highly amusing phone call from her brother-in-law to inform her he was going to be visiting, but no, she couldn't tell anyone…
New Orleans, Louisiana-the LeBeau mansion
"Y' know," Henri suggested casually, "we could jus'-maybe, I dunno-go shoppin'?"
Jean-Luc was wearing his "Did you seriously just question my orders?" face. Emil and Theoren were wearing identical expressions of horror.
"Shoppin'?" Emil gasped. "Y' mean, actually pay wit' money?"
"Are y' out o' y' mind?" Theoren asked incredulously.
Henri threw up his hands. "Okay, okay, it was jus' a suggestion!"
"Pretty lousy suggestion," Emil muttered.
"Alright, that's enough," Jean-Luc said firmly. "Emil, you and Theoren will do the job. Henri, you will provide surveillance."
"Y' mean I get t' be look-out again," Henri sighed. Jean-Luc smirked.
"Maybe so, but Merci done tol' me that she didn' want y' doin' anymore t'ievin' while she's pregnant wit' dis granchil' o' mine. So, s' y' own fault fo' marryin' such a terrifyin' woman. Come t' think of it, y'r brother's fille is pretty frightenin' in her own right. Mus' be genetic."
Henri blinked. "Pere, Remy was adopted."
Jean-Luc shot him a look, irritated at having his musing interrupted. "Details, mon fils. Nurture over nature an' all that."
Emil eyed his uncle suspiciously. "Y've been readin' Merci's parentin' books again, haven't y'?"
The King of Thieves scowled at him. "Get outta here, y' t'ree. Hones'ly, I don' know why I keep y'all 'round. 'S not like y' earn y' keep or anyt'ing." He waved his hands at them, shooing them out of his study. "Don' make me call y' pere," he threatened.
Laughing, Emil and Theoren scampered away. Henri followed more slowly, exchanging amused glances with his father at the antics of his cousins.
Thank God Remy already went back to New York. Lord only knew how this little expedition would go if he was there.
They were stealing a door.
Honestly, Emil still wasn't exactly sure how they'd gotten to this point. He had-unfortunately-been on a job when Remy stopped by, bringing this Rogue fille they'd heard so much about with him. This was rather disappointing for Emil in the first place, because he had really wanted to meet her. Also, apparently, in the short time they were at the LeBeau mansion, Remy and Rogue had managed to break the door. Or something. There were motorcycle skid marks all over the foyer. Emil wasn't actually sure he wanted to know what had happened there.
Still, a job was a job, and Jean-Luc had even asked nicely-the first time, at least-so Emil would do it. (And if he maybe-purely by coincidence-happened to be in New York-on business, certainly-he'd definitely have to stop by and see his beloved cousin-only polite, right?)
Emil tuned back into the conversation happening right beside him. Currently, Theoren was trying to convince Henri that the plan they'd come up with reallywas a good one. Henri wanted to go to a store. Probably so he could do some shopping, the ninny. Emil shook his head sadly. Where did I go wrong?
"Emil? Emil!" Someone smacked him on the head.
"Ow!" He glared at his cousin. "The heck was dat for?"
"Pay attention! Hones'ly, y' have de 'tention span o' a rabbit."
"Rabbits are evil," Emil murmured. Henri rolled his eyes. "Focus!"
"Right, got it, sorry," he said, snapping back to reality. Theoren grinned at him, which told him that Henri had caved, and they were doing this their way. "Awesome, le's go."
Lurking around big houses full of expensive things was something all three cousins were good at. Very good at. Emil might even venture to say they were experts. Definitely pro-league at least.
Stop. Focus. Right, I'm back.
The plan was simple. They'd find a house with the right size door, stake it out for a couple of days, and then steal the door. Simple.
Henri just had to go and be a git about things.
"How 'xactly is this s'posed t' work?" he demanded. "This is insane!"
Theoren rolled his eyes. "All due respect, mon prince, mais we've been workin' dis plan. It's a good one. An' y' not de one pullin' it off, so why d' y' need t' know how it's s'posed to work?"
"'Cause I'm de one gonna be savin' your butts if things go wrong," Henri growled, frustrated. Emil decided to intervene at that point, attempting to prevent bloodshed in a rather uncharacteristic display of maturity.
"Friends," he said, smiling and putting a hand on each man's shoulder. "Brothers, countrymen." He stopped, frowning. That wasn't where he'd been trying to go with this. Theoren and Henri were staring at him like he'd just started dancing the hula in a grass skirt and coconut bra, so he rallied and tried for a beaming back-slap. "Come, let us not quarrel amongst ourselves!" Shoot, what the heck?
Theoren fixed him with a Look. The one that said: "Why are you talking like a Shakespeare play?" This was not to be confused with the one that meant: "What on earth have you been drinking, Emil?"
Emil was very familiar with these sorts of Looks.
He sighed. "Look, y' deux, will y' jus' shut up an' help me steal this stupid door? I mean, really!" Still muttering to himself, he jumped in the truck and waited for Theoren and Henri to pick their jaws up off the ground and follow him.
The next stage of the plan was going to be incredibly boring, so Emil was glad he'd brought along his cellphone. He'd been prank-calling Remy all day.
Remy wasn't answering.
This was disappointing, but Emil was not all that deterred. He just left increasingly odd messages every time the call went to voicemail.
Hey, Remy! 'S y'r favorite cousin, Emil! Seems like I missed quite de party. I'm truly hurt, Rems, dat y' didn' tell moi y' were comin' home. Uncle Jean sent me out on a job jus' 'fore 'y came in. An' I've heard all 'bout y' an' dis Rogue fille, so as soon as y' get dis message, CALL ME! Hugs an' kisses, mon ami, bye.
Answer de phone, Remy. Remy! Pick up the freakin' phone! Remy!
I'm offended, honest I am. Really, Remy. Y' own flesh an' blood. Well, maybe not 'xactly, but close enough.
Dang it, Rems, pick up!
Fine, be dat way. Whatever. Bye.
Y' voicemail message is disturbin' Remy. Seriously, no one should have t' listen t' dat. Anyway.
Y' know, it's y' fault I'm even stuck doin' dis, so de leas' y' could do would be t' PICK UP DE PHONE!
Remy? -Oh, Theoren's callin'. Guess we're on. Love y'. Bye!
(Of course, while these messages were being left, Remy and Rogue were making out on the highways stretching all up and down the Eastern United States, so, naturally, Remy wasn't answering his phone.)
The owners-well, the previous owners, really. Once the Thieves' Guild sent someone to steal something, that something was as good as theirs-were gone, and the three thieves were ready. Emil and Theoren, dressed in carpenter overalls, strolled confidently up to the house. Tools in hand, they set to work.
Within minutes, the humongous door was off its hinges and on its way to the bed of their truck. The cousins struggled with the size of the thing for a minute, but they eventually managed to haul it up and strap it down. Then, with Emil riding in the back to keep the load steady, they set off for the rendezvous point, where Henri was waiting for them.
"Y' made it," aforementioned disbelieving cousin stated in disbelief. Emil sniffed, turning up his nose.
"Well, duh," Theoren said eloquently, brushing past his older cousin and busying himself with the bungee cords holding the truck in place. "Emil, where's the blubber-wrap?"
Henri blinked. Surely he'd heard that wrong. "Blubber-wrap?"
"Yeah!" Emil's beaming face popped up over the side of the cab. He stood on the edge of the truck's open doorway, leaning his forearms on the roof. "What? Y' didn' t'ink we were drivin' it t' de Guild Hall?"
"Um, oui?" Henri said weakly. Theoren snorted.
"Typical. No, no, mon ami. We are sailin' dis bebe ont' Guild lands."
"Oh," Henri said. "Of course. What else would we do?"
Somehow, Theoren and Emil had managed to get their hands on actual blubber-wrap (which was, as Emil explained enthusiastically to a bemused Henri, simply seal blubber that had been turned into a sort of plastic wrap thing). They swathed their door in the stuff, wrapping it over and over again until it resembled nothing so much as mummified plank. Henri said so, an observation which nearly sparked off another argument between him and Theoren, who felt that Henri was unappreciative of his inventiveness (even though the blubber-wrap was Emil's idea).
Henri thought he'd been understanding the plan pretty well so far. Wrap door in seal fat. Sail door down bayou and onto LeBeau property-also known as the headquarters for the Thieves' Guild. Unload door and order whichever lazy Thieves were standing around doing nothing to install it. Report to Jean-Luc that the job was done. All of this he understood.
It was the part where they needed costumes that was beginning to confuse him.
"Emil," he said slowly. "Why do we need costumes?"
Emil shot him a pitying look. "Oh, Henri," he sighed in sympathy, giving his cousin an encouraging hand-shoulder clasp. He walked away to change, murmuring sadly to himself.
Henri looked to Theoren for an explanation, only to find the man staring after Emil with a bewildered expression on his face. Huh. Good to know he wasn't the only one to whom Emil was speaking gibberish.
New Orleans, Louisiana-LeBeau mansion
Jean-Luc felt like his eyes were crossing in his head. He shook said head to try to clear his vision. Nope, didn't work. He was still seeing what he'd thought he was seeing. Guh.
Emil, Theoren, and Henri were standing in the front yard of the LeBeau mansion. Beside them was a huge… something that looked a bit like a mummified plank. All three men were soaking wet and dressed like rafts-men.
Jean-Luc felt a headache coming on.
"Report," he said reluctantly. Emil stepped forward with a smart-alec grin and a half-hearted salute.
"Door, sir! Present an' accounted for, sir! Proper size an' hinges t' match our doorframe, sir! Clean getaway, SIR!"
Jean-Luc stared at him for a moment, then turned his confused face towards his son and other nephew. They both shook their heads, resignedly. The Patriarch ran a hand over his forehead and sighed.
"Alright," he said. "Go on an' get cleaned up, y'all. Good job." They scampered away like puppies and Jean-Luc turned his attention to the problem of the monstrosity in his front yard.
Staring dubiously at the blubber-wrapped door, he sighed and shook his head. "Maybe Tante has a way t' magic it on."
Once clean and dry, Emil decided to try calling his cousin again. Surely Remy couldn't be busy now.
The phone rang. It went to voicemail.
Ignoring Remy's completely weird voicemail message, Emil hung up and determinedly dialed again.
It was ringing, it was ringing… someone picked up.
Before Emil could say a word, a sweet-as-sugar and infinitely more dangerous than such voice said into his ear, "If Ah have to interrupt mah time with Remy to shut off his dang cell phone, one more time, Ah am gonna have to turn this motorcycle around, ride back to N'awlins, and bust down that brand new door you just got-again. Call again, later. Much later. Goodbye!"
Emil hung up carefully.
A/N: Hehe, Foxy, if you check the PM, you'll see that exactly what I said I wouldn't do-considering the cousins and heists-I did. ^-^
Aww, lookit Roguey there, gettin' a cameo! XD
Wrote this in the car on my way to and from my grandmother's house. Three hours there, three back. Whew!