The Perfect Disguise

Footsteps rattle down the cobbled streets, two pursued by many. Constables weren’t known for being friendly, not even to those who seek what should be the same goal as them. Unfortunately, detectives and problem-solvers alike were often targeted by the Constabulary, no matter the kind of work they do. A detective and an informant would be seen just as common thieves.

Even if they both were and are thieves.

Lucien’s laughter follows the duo as they sprint around a corner, though it’s cut short as Blutcher cuffs him in the arm. 

“Ow! My dear, whatever was that for?” Lucien rubs his arm, increasing his pace.

“This is hardly a laughing matter, Doctor.” Blutcher huffs, exhaling a bout of steam. “Why don’t you find us a way out of this, since you got us into this mess in the first place?”

Pouting, he glances around, squinting through the light fog. “Now, now, I’ve barely done a thing! It’s hardly my fault our contact went and tattled on us!”

“Your conta-” It begins to protest, only for it’s words to be cut off as Lucien sharply grabs and pulls on the collar of it’s coat, off to the side of the street and into an alleyway. “What the hell are you doing?!”

He’s quick to shush it, a finger to his lips as he ushers it further in. “Shaking them off our tail, of course!” He says with a grin, studying a wall for its climbability. 

“We are not going to have enough time for that. They’re right behind us!” The gears and joints of Blutcher’s body were already whining in protest from the run, attempting to scramble up a wall with those hounds on their heels would likely lead to a repair job - and it wasn't going to allow Lucien’s rodent friends scurry into it’s chassis. Again.

The doctor frowns, stuttering as he hears just how close to their hiding place their pursuers were. Suddenly, his eyes light up, and he begins to remove his jacket. “Let me borrow your hat a moment.”

“What?!”

“Just- trust me. Please.” Lucien insists, turning his coat inside-out to reveal the deep red lining, matching almost perfectly to Blutcher’s hat. 

His grin returns as it relents, holding the item out to him as he wrestles his coat back on. He puts it on at a jaunty angle, feigning a theatrical bow, despite the growing noise behind them.

“Lucien.” Blutcher warns, gaze fixed on the entrance to the alleyway, expecting to see the Constables turn the corner at any minute. But it’s eyes immediately flick to it’s companion, who steps closer.

“Trust me a little more, my dear?” His hands come to rest on it’s arms, one on it’s shoulder and the other just below the elbow. He watches steam hiss out from it’s vents as Blutcher momentarily buries it’s face into it’s scarf.

“... Fine.”

The Constables round the corner, and Lucien pulls Blutcher towards him. 

The doctor’s lips easily find the detective’s. Almost as if it’s practised, in life or in dreams, honeyed or slept or otherwise. Lucien’s hand slips to it’s waist as Blutcher grabs at his coat lapels, almost pushing him away… before pulling him closer. 

In the hazy background, the Constables shout. 

“Oi!”

“Ah, fuck. Leave ‘em be.”

“They ain’t seen nothing but each other, those bastards are getting away!”

As the sound of footsteps on cobbles dies away into the distance, the duo slowly pull themselves apart, staring at each other. Lucien’s usually pale face is tinted a heavy pink, his eyes wide and almost surprised at himself. Blutcher slowly removes a hand to pull at it’s scarf, steam billowing out into the misty sky above. 

“I- I…” He starts, trying a sheepish grin. “I told you to trust me! And here we are, completely scott-free! Wouldn’t you say that I’ve redeemed myself?”

Blutcher’s mystified gaze immediately becomes a hardened glare, lightly shoving Lucien as it detaches itself from him. “It was... certainly a choice, of some kind.”

“A good choice? An excellent choice, perhaps?”

“Do not push it, Doctor.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Save it until we’re safely out of danger.”

“Lucien.”