This might be inspired by a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode. you can't prove anything

This bitch is 5,000 words exactly  

It all started at the Gardner Museum.

Harry looked at the clock irritably. Fifteen more fucking minutes, and he could leave and go to his concert.

That is, assuming Ron was here on time, which was rare but possible.

He watched the second hand tick by slowly.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He could have been a food vendor. He could have been a day guard, at least, so he could talk to people. He could have worked at a fucking fast food restaurant and gotten free food for a slightly lower pay.

But no. Here he was, in the middle of fucking Boston, guarding a museum no one cared about in the middle of the fucking night.

Honestly, when was the last time someone had robbed a fucking bank?

As if to answer his question, the buzzer to the front door rang.

Startled, Harry opened the front screen, which showed two police officers in full uniform. Strangely, one of them wore a hat, but Harry forgot about that fact a second later when the one without a hat spoke.

"We're investigating a disturbance in the area and need to do a surveillance check. Under the authority of the law, you are required to open this door."

Harry knew it was museum policy not to open doors for anyone after hours, but these men were police. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have a little social interaction before Ron got here.

So he pushed the button to allow the doors to open.

The two men walked out into the main area, looking around for a second before their eyes met Harry's.

One of them was slightly shorter than the other. He was black, with curly hair and deep brown eyes. His uniform showed off his figure nicely, and if Harry was into men, he would think he was quite attractive.

The one next to him was just an inch taller, with pale skin and a black hat covering his hair. He had a much more lean figure than the other officer, which really made Harry wonder what he was doing in the police force. His shockingly grey eyes met Harry's with a strange sort of fascination, and for a reason Harry really couldn't explain, he was breathless.

"Please step out of the control room. We can't have any interference whilst investigating the property," the shorter man said.

Harry stepped out of the room, and only a second later, frowned. "What exactly are you checking?"

The shorter one spoke again. "I'll do rounds around this floor. Keep an eye on him."

Grey- Harry decided he was going to call him that until he got a name- nodded and faced Harry with a sort of cocky determination that Harry wouldn't expect from an officer.

They stood in silence for a minute before Grey spoke.

"It must be boring, being a night shift museum guard. When was the last time this place got robbed?"

Harry took a moment to respond, because he was so surprised by the man's voice. It was smooth, almost calming, like an officer's would be, but it had a note of humor behind it, like Grey knew something he didn't.

"Never. Not while I've been working here, anyway," he said, laughing softly. 

Grey gave him an amused smile, eyes scanning him up and down before darting somewhere over his left shoulder.

"Huh," he said softly. "That's weird."

Harry turned to see what he was looking at, and all of a sudden he was pressed against the wall, handcuffs clicking around his wrists. His gun was pushed out of his holster and kicked across the floor, by the sound of it. He made a noise of protest, and Grey softly shushed him.

"Darling, I'm not gonna kill you, don't wo-"

Suddenly the door buzzed.

Grey backed away from Harry, and the warmth of his body disappeared. 

"Who is that?" he asked, panic lacing his tone. "Who is that?"

Harry backed up awkwardly, hands still handcuffed behind his back. He looked up at the clock.

Two a.m.

"The next guard is here," he breathed, and realized a second later he shouldn't have said that. Damn.

Grey grabbed a cloth off of the desk in the control room. "Is there anything on this that would poison you if you ingested it?"

"What? No? I use it to clean off the monito- mmph!"

Grey shoved the cloth in his mouth with a hiss of "be quiet!" and shoved him against a wall before darting across the room and pressing the buzzer to let Ron in.

Harry watched as the commotion drew the other officer into the room. He mouthed what the fuck? at Grey, and Grey pointed at Harry and Ron, who was now walking into the room.

The other officer groaned and rolled his eyes as Ron drew closer.

"Um, sorry officers, but no one is supposed to be here after hours. I suppose Harry let you in, but-"

The other officer waited until Ron was close enough before surging forward and yanking the gun out of Ron's holster and pointing it at him. Ron immediately raised his hands in surrender.

"Get the other one," the officer said roughly, and Grey darted across the room to grab Harry by the arm, yanking the cloth out of his mouth and pushing him against the wall next to Ron.

Ron's wide eyes met Harry's, and Harry gave him a sort of half-shrug as the other officer put a set of handcuffs on Ron.

"Can you at least tell us why we're being arrested?" Ron asked, and Harry rolled his eyes because clearly that was not what was happening here. "We have Miranda Rights!"

"You're not being arrested," the officer replied.

"You're being robbed," Grey finished with a sort of mocking glee in his tone.

Well, that explains why he doesn't have the physique of an officer.

"Don't give us any trouble, and you won't get hurt." The second officer- well, robber- seemed much rougher than his partner.

Harry rolled his eyes. "They don't pay us enough to get hurt."

Grey's surprised laughter rang throughout the empty museum. "I like you. You're funny."

"Thanks. I aspire to be liked by criminals," Harry replied dryly. "I make it a habit, in fact, as someone whose job is to stop criminals."

"Well, you're not very good at your job then, are you?" Grey responded, the smile still present in his voice.

"Guess not."

That was all the talking they did after that. Within two minutes, the robbers had Ron and Harry each handcuffed to the stairwell before they ran off, presumably to steal something, Harry had no idea.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Ron muttered. "No one after hours, that's like, the main rule."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I'm pretty stupid. You can blame it all on me, I don't mind if I get fired. Fuck Boston. Wanna play Rock Paper Scissors?"

It was about ten minutes later when the men showed up again. The shorter one- Harry decided he was gonna call him Asshole, because he was one- was carrying a large, almost cartoonish bag over his shoulder. He darted out of the front door.

Grey turned to face Harry and Ron, and laughed softly upon seeing the game they were playing.

"When do the morning guards come?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

"Six," Ron responded glumly. 

Grey glanced at the clock. "You've got a little over three and a half hours." He wandered over to the control room while Asshole came back in and grabbed another bag before dragging it out the front door again.

Grey grabbed something off of the control desk that Harry recognized as the deck of cards he and Ron would sometimes play with when their shifts overlapped. He dropped it on the ground and kicked it to Harry.

Harry grabbed the box, staring at Grey. "Thanks," he murmured.

Grey grinned. "I might steal rich people's shit, but that doesn't mean I'm a total asshole. However, you do understand that I have to do this."

And he threw the control room computer on the ground.

He threw it on the ground and stomped on it a few times before grinning lightly at Harry. "We already took out the security cameras, imagine how embarrassing it would be if we had forgotten this."

Harry couldn't help the smile that crossed his face, but when he turned to face Ron, the redhead was glaring at Grey.

Harry quickly schooled his expression. He wasn't supposed to be siding with the robbers, Jesus Christ.

"Let's go!" came a shout from outside, and Grey's grin dropped. He glanced over at Harry and Ron one last time before running out the front doors.

"What an asshole," Ron muttered, dealing out the cards with one hand. "Robards is gonna be pissed at you, ya know."

He was. Four and a half hours later, when Robards had finally gotten to the museum and seen that 12 items were missing, he had yelled for ten minutes and fired Harry on the spot. Ron was put on probation.

Harry decided maybe it was time to work somewhere else.

*****************************

Two months later, Harry was working at another museum.

Maybe it was how used to it he was, maybe it was something else, he didn't know.

Either way, the Whitney Museum of American Art clearly didn't do background checks.

Massachusetts to New York wasn't as shocking of a transition as Harry had expected. New York was far busier, but it had a similar atmosphere to it.

And unfortunately, Harry ended up on night shift again. Even more unfortunately, they had decided to give him a taser instead of a gun.

He knew it was because he was new to the job, but really, wasn't the museum more like to be robbed at night?

At least the security was better, and Harry had learned his lesson from last time.

Right?

Either way, he was sitting in the control room drumming pencils on the desk when the fire alarm went off.

Surprised, Harry checked the monitors. None of them showed any fires, so he disabled the alarm and wrote "check fire alarm, floor 4, area C" on a sticky note, slapping it against the monitor of the computer.

He would check it himself, but after last time he left the control room, he was anxious to do so again.

He sighed, leaning back in his seat and glancing over at the monitors for another second, before freezing.

A man with a mask covering half of his face was on camera 7, staring straight at it. With a tilt of the head, he aimed a gun at the camera and the screen went black.

Harry jumped as he heard the sound echo throughout the museum. He turned to push the emergency button on the wall behind him, brain thinking through the floors of the building.

Camera 7 is on floor 4, area- Harry froze as he realized that camera was exactly where the fire alarm had been set off.

So it was a distraction.

A distraction for what?

"Back away from the button or I'll shoot you."

Harry recognized that voice, and couldn't help the slight smile that fell on his lips as he turned around slowly, hands in the air.

Grey was leaning against the doorframe, gun lazily pointed at Harry. He still had a hat on to cover his hair, but a mask covered the bottom half of his face. His grey eyes widened in recognition.

"You." He lowered his gun slightly before thinking the better of it and pointing it at Harry's head again. "What are the fucking odds of this?"

"One in a million?" Harry guessed. He was much more relaxed now that he knew he was in less danger than he had thought. "You're wearing a mask this time."

"Bigger museum. More cameras." Grey shrugged. "Not enough time to take them all out."

"But you have enough time to have a conversation with a night shift guard?"

Grey's eyes slowly looked him up and down.

"I do when he's cute," he replied cheekily.

Harry gaped. "I'm-you're- what?"

Although he couldn't see the bottom half of Grey's face, he could swear he was pouting. "Aw, you're straight. Pity."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" Harry argued, before realizing that was the opposite of what he wanted to say.

Grey laughed softly. "Are you straight?"

"Yes!" Harry shouted, frustrated. Why did Grey make him so confused?

Grey was standing closer now. "Are you sure you're straight?"

"Yes!" Harry shouted, knocking the gun out of Grey's hand. He shoved the other man to the ground, tossing the gun to the side and immediately regretting it when he remembered he could have used that.

Grey's hat flew off of his head as he struggled against Harry, and Harry froze when he saw why Grey had to wear a hat.

Grey's hair was a shocking, platinum blonde.

God, he would be unmistakable in a crowd. As a criminal, his hair had to be a curse. Harry wondered why he didn't dye it.

Grey took advantage of his shock and kicked him, sending him flying into the desk. He crawled over to Harry, their faces an inch apart, and for a heart-stopping second, Harry thought Grey was going to kiss him.

And then Grey grabbed the taser out of Harry's pocket and the gun near his head, and aimed the latter at Harry, standing up slowly.

"Why don't you dye your hair?" Harry said hoarsely.

Grey tilted his head. "I like my hair."

I like my hair. Harry almost laughed. It was such a simple reason, yet so illogical when compared to the benefits he could have if he dyed it a more ordinary color.

"Jesus fuck, Dr-" Grey's partner- oh, goody, it was Asshole again- stepped into the room and stopped talking momentarily when he saw Harry. "You look familiar."

"It's Harry. From the Gardener Museum," Grey replied softly, glancing at his partner.

"How do you know my name?" Harry asked, confused. 

"Your partner mentioned it when he first walked in," Grey replied, shrugging. Asshole walked up beside Grey, taking the taser and wrapping a casual arm around his waist.

Harry's eyes focused on Asshole's arm as Grey looked at Harry with an indiscernible expression due to the mask. It made him more irritated than he was inclined to admit.

"How the hell do you even remember that?" Asshole said idly, setting the taser on the cabinet and grabbing Harry's handcuffs off of the desk.

Grey shrugged, the tips of his ears turning pink being the only show of a reaction to Asshole's words. Asshole grabbed Harry roughly by the arm and dragged him out to the stairwell, ignoring Grey's halfhearted protests to "be careful!"

"We've wasted too much time," Asshole said irritably, handcuffing Harry to the stairwell. "We'll have to grab what we can and get out."

"Don't forget your hat," Harry said to Grey with a grin. With a start, Grey reached down, grabbing his hat and putting it on before stepping out of the control room.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Harry only grinned, wondering when he had started helping criminals.

"Let's go!" Asshole shouted. Harry's grin dropped.

Grey shrugged, skipping over to one of the smaller artifacts in a glass case. With a little too much enthusiasm, he punched a hole in the case, his leather glove protecting his hand, and grabbed the artifact.

"This looks cool," he said happily. "Let's go!"

"Dr- Dude, you've only got one thing."

Grey shrugged. "Looks cool. I'm happy with what I've got."

Asshole carefully removed one of the paintings from the wall. "Grab more."

Grey rolled his eyes, setting down the artifact and attempting to remove another painting from the wall.

After another ten minutes of Grey happily smashing glass and Asshole yelling at him to grab more paintings, the pair shoved their stuff into bags and stood, ready to leave.

"What, no cards?" Harry said teasingly as Grey checked around to make sure they had grabbed all of their stuff.

Grey faced him.

"Who are you gonna play cards with?" he asked teasingly. "Besides, the next shift comes in a half hour."

Before Harry could ask him how he knew that, Grey was gone.

And if Harry forgot that one of the robbers was blonde when he was being interrogated two hours later, well, that was the fault of the museum's hiring staff.

********************************

Harry had decided, after leaving the Whitney Museum of American Art, that maybe the East Coast wasn't for him.

Which was why the Seattle Art Museum was his newest place of employment.

And after doing a background check on him and finding his record with night shift robberies, they decided to put him on day shift.

But apparently, wherever Harry went robberies followed, because Hermione Granger, the night shift guard, had been on duty last night when a pair of robbers had handcuffed her to the stairwell and taken four paintings.

Harry felt a jolt of recognition, but dismissed it immediately. He lived on the other side of the country now. There was no way Grey was here too.

Hermione was begging the museum curator to let her have a partner for a few days at least, and Harry decided he had experience with night shift, and offered to partner with her for a few days.

Which was where they were now.

They were switching between doing rounds and being in the control room, and currently, Hermione was out doing rounds and Harry was sitting idly at the desk, spinning his car keys on the table.

Then he heard a small noise. Confused, he tucked his keys into his pocket and stepped out of the control room.

He was just about to ask if Hermione was there when suddenly someone dropped down in front of him.

Well not really dropped, since they didn't touch the floor. They were upside-down, hanging onto a rope that seemed to come from the ceiling, very cartoon-villain style, and it took Harry another couple seconds to realize it was Grey.

"Boo," Grey whispered, and let go of the rope with one hand, elegantly spinning to the ground and letting go of it.

Harry admired him for a moment before catching himself and staring into Grey's eyes.

"I missed you. You weren't working last night," Grey pouted. Harry noticed he wasn't wearing a mask this time, and figured the Seattle Art Museum wasn't high-tech enough to warrant covering his face.

"Are you following me?"

Grey grinned mockingly. "Maybe a little. What can I say? You keep working at museums. It's like you're begging me to ruin your reputation just a little more."

Harry laughed softly. "That's fair."

"You saw my hair last time."

Harry frowned. "What?"

"You saw my hair, and you didn't say anything. The police reports didn't have any new details on my appearance. You didn't tell them."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Must have slipped my mind."

Grey smirked at that, and opened his mouth to respond when there was a crash and a yell upstairs.

Immediately, Harry turned to the sound. "Hermione?" he shouted, panicked.

"Hermione?" Grey asked, confused, but Harry was already sprinting toward the stairs.

He didn't get very far.

He looked up and immediately backed away when he saw Hermione and Asshole fighting over a gun upstairs.

"You have a partner?!" Grey shouted.

"I-"

He never got to finish that statement, because Hermione got control of the gun and shot Asshole in the chest.

Harry had always thought the trope of "it seemed to happen in slow motion" was a stupid cliche until he watched the man's body tumble over the railing and fall to the ground.

"BLAISE!" Grey screamed, running forward. He cradled the man- Blaise's- broken body, begging him to wake up.

Hermione dropped the gun, shouting "Harry, get the other one!" 

As Hermione's pounding footsteps rushed down the stairs, Harry shoved Grey away from Blaise.

His tear-filled grey eyes met Harry's in shock, and Harry lightly pushed him back one more time.

"Go."

Grey's eyes flicked to Blaise's body one more time, before he turned and sprinted toward the exit.

Harry sighed. This is gonna hurt.

He braced himself and slammed his head back into the wall, slumping to the ground.

"Harry? Harry!" He felt hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as Hermione panicked. "Harry, please be okay, don't die Harry, Jesus fucking shit-"

Harry coughed. "What the fuck happened?" He slowly opened his eyes, meeting Hermione's worried ones.

"He must have hit you, or pushed you, or something. Fuck. I'm gonna go set off the emergency alarm and get you some medical help."

Harry nodded slowly, and through slightly blurred vision, watched a blonde boy outside jump into a black van and speed away.

So they have a getaway driver, was Harry's last thought before he passed out.

*********************

For such a famous museum, Harry really thought the Louvre would have better night security.

Instead it was him, an American idiot who would rather make a beat with pencils than watch the security cameras.

After Blaise's death in Washington, Harry had decided maybe across the country wasn't enough for him. So he moved to France and became a night guard here for the past four months.

Some small part of Harry's mind hoped that Grey would show up, but he knew the other man was American. Besides, his lover had died and he didn't care that much about Harry. Harry didn't even know his real name. What could possibly make him travel across the country to see Harry?

The Louvre had been robbed twice since Harry had started working, and one of those times was while he was on watch. He had caught the robber, an annoyed girl with short black hair, but she had kicked him in the face and escaped. 

Apparently France was much more kind about escaped robbers than America, and the curator hadn't fired Harry.

But something concerned Harry. When he had been robbed, the reason the girl had been able to take advantage of the situation and kick him was because when he took her hat and mask off, it wasn't Grey. He had frozen, unsure of how to react, and she had escaped.

Tonight felt like any other night. Harry was idly drumming his fingers against the desk, watching the screens, when suddenly, he heard a soft noise.

He looked out the window, bored, but his whole body tensed when he saw someone standing in the middle of the main room, dressed in all black.

It was too dark to make out if it was a boy or girl, but Harry grabbed his gun, pressing the silent alarm at the desk and stepping out of the control room, aiming the gun at the intruder. 

"Stop where you are. Put your hands up slowly."

The figure faced him.

"Bonjour, mon amour. Je vous ai manqué."

"I'm... I'm sorry, I don't speak French," Harry said, cursing his stuttering speech. How was he supposed to be a guard if he couldn't seem confident?

The person reached up, taking their hat off. Harry inhaled sharply as a shock of white-blonde hair shone through the little light they had.

"I know."

"Grey," Harry whispered involuntarily.

"Grey?" Grey sounded amused as he walked toward Harry.

"It's um... It's what I called you. I don't know your name, and your eyes..." Harry trailed off, embarrassed. He lowered his gun.

Since when was he comfortable enough around a criminal to lower his gun?

"Draco."

"What?"

Grey was close enough now that Harry could see his features perfectly. He was smiling easily as he continued to walk toward Harry, stopping just inches away.

"My name is Draco."

"Oh. That's... that's beautiful," Harry said softly, cursing his own stupidity. Beautiful? He liked girls!

"Merci."

"You speak French?"

"Oui. My mother taught me at a young age."

"What did you say earlier?"

Draco smiled sweetly, his lips just a centimeter away from Harry's.

"I'll tell you another day."

Harry's heart jumped embarrassingly at the promise of another day, and he was really starting to question his sexuality.

"You know, for the first two weeks I worked here, I thought you pronounced the R in Louvre?" Harry asked, laughing nervously.

Draco laughed too. "No, it's Louvre. Pronounced very similarly to love." God, his lips were so close to Harry's. "One wouldn't want to mix the two up."

Harry couldn't breathe. "No, I would imagine not."

"Finding love at the Louvre," Draco murmured. "Who would have thought?"

Harry wasn't really sure how he would have responded if he could, and he was really grateful that he couldn't, because Draco chose that moment to kiss him.

Well, Harry was almost certain he couldn't question his sexuality anymore, because he was quite certain there was nothing better in the world than Draco's lips against his own.

"Dray! Your five minutes are over, and this dumbass hit the silent alarm! We've got two minutes, max-" The girl cut off as she saw them. "Jesus Christ, you weren't going to fuck him, were you? We don't have the time!"

Draco pulled away from the kiss, rolling his eyes. "No, Pansy, I wasn't gonna fuck him, Christ, what do you take me for?"

"I've seen you before," Harry breathed. "You kicked me in the face."

The girl- Pansy- grinned. "Draco needed to know if you were working the night shift, because he's a pathetic, love-driven loser who-"

"Pansy!" Draco shouted. "Kindly shut the fuck up."

"She's your driver," Harry said in realization. "Or is she your new partner?"

"Driver," they answered simultaneously. 

"And we need to drive away," Pansy said with an emphasizing look at Draco. "You got your seven minutes of heaven, and we need to go. Now. If your loverboy hadn't hit the stupid button, you could have more time, but we don't get that."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "I didn't know it was you."

Draco flashed him a grin as he backed toward the door. Pansy was already halfway to the car. 

"Since when did I become someone you would let into the museum?" he asked.

Harry grinned back. "Since the Gardener Museum, I guess."

Draco winked. "I'll see you around, Harry." He turned to go out the doors.

"Draco."

Draco turned back around to realize Harry was right behind him. Harry grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him again.

When they pulled away, Draco had a slightly glazed look in his eyes.

"Be safe," Harry whispered.

Draco snapped out of his daze, flashing another grin at Harry.

"No promises!"

And then he was gone.

***************************

Harry had decided it was time to go back to America, and after some research on museums, had decided to work at the National Museum of Natural History in Washington D.C. After all, it appeared to be a tradition to make Draco chase after him.

Harry clicked between screens, watching more for Draco than for an actual robbery.

"Looks boring."

Harry jumped, turning to face Draco. "Christ, how do you do that? You scared the shit out of me!"

"That's the greeting I get after two weeks?" Draco asked warmly, taking a step toward Harry.

Harry grinned, standing and kissing him hard, winding his arms around Draco's waist and pulling him close.

After a few minutes, Draco broke away, gasping softly for air.

"That's much better," he breathed, looking Harry up and down.

"Are you doing okay?" Harry asked, sitting back down in his chair. Draco wound himself around Harry carefully until he was straddling his lap.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, kissing Harry's cheek lightly.

"After your boyfriend died, I was worried about you."

"He wasn't my boyfriend," Draco murmured, nipping Harry's earlobe. "More of a fuck-buddy and partner in crime. He just wanted to piss you off, that night when he was all possessive and snappy. He thought you were gonna steal me away." He started trailing kisses down Harry's throat. "I guess you did, in a sense."

"You didn't answer my question," Harry said softly, trying not to make any noises as Draco focused on leaving his mark on Harry's neck.

"And what question was that?" Draco pulled back, satisfied with the mark he left, and met Harry's eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Draco shrugged. "We were never close like me and Pansy are. It was horrifying to see someone die in front of me, and even more awful because I knew him, but I'm not broken up about it." He tilted his head slightly. "Not anymore, anyway."

"I'm glad." Harry kissed Draco again. "I got you a present, by the way."

"Oh?" Draco pulled back, interested. "I love presents."

Harry grinned, grabbing the box sitting on his desk, and pulled out his gift.

Draco gasped softly and studied the blue gem, encircled by white diamonds and held on a silver chain. "It's beautiful."

Harry looped it around Draco's neck. "You don't know what it is, do you?"

Draco frowned. "No?"

"Why do you think I started working here? What is one of the most famous things held in this museum?" Harry grinned as he watched recognition flare in grey eyes.

"You stole... you stole the Hope Diamond?" Draco breathed. "For me?"

"I did."

Draco hopped off of Harry's lap, staring at him with wide, lovestruck eyes. He extended his hand.

"Come with us. Pansy and I. Blaise was a mediocre partner, but you..." Draco seemed to lose his breath for a moment. "You're perfect in every way."

Harry considered his options. Less than a year ago, he had been trying to kill this man. He worked at museums every night and guarded them, not stole from them. He tried to stop people like Draco.

Harry took Draco's hand.

He had never been good at stopping robberies anyway.