#also i hope it was obvious that this was inspired by the oktoberfest skins

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The Long Con (part 1/6)

Happy Oktoberfest! 🍻 With the festival starting today in München, I figured it would be the perfect time to start posting this fic 🥰 Please also check out @ell-clavel's amazing riconti art that inspired me to write this AU in the first place 🧡 Rated G | 1.5k words | ao3 link [next]

"Man, look at all these people!"

Meg's grin was bright as she jogged past Ace and looked around in awe, her bow-adorned braids bouncing in time with her steps.

Ace hadn't expected quite this much of a crowd, either. It was only a Monday afternoon but the festival area was quickly filling up with groups flocking to the large beer tents or shopping at the stalls lining the central street.

He knew Oktoberfest was popular, but not this popular.

"I wonder if they're here to see Denson too." Ace smirked. "You might have some competition for the spot as her number one fan."

Meg's face scrunched up. "Shut up. You're the one who insisted on flying all the way out here, not me. Oh, look, there's a chocolate fruit stand!"

Ace smiled and bit back a snarky comment as Meg excitedly took in what the festival had to offer. The girl was an avid fan of country artist Kate Denson's work—Ace had a sneaking suspicion it was something she'd listened to with her late mother—and after an off-hand comment that Denson would be performing in Münich at this year's Oktoberfest?

Well, Ace simply hadn't been able to resist.

Just like he couldn't resist obnoxiously cooing, "Want me to buy you some choccy bananas?" when Meg kept eyeing the food stall.

Meg bristled. "I'm not fucking five years old."

"Really? Could have fooled me, with those pigtails."

"I'm just blending in," Meg said. 

She did a twirl to show off the rest of her outfit: a frilly top and floral bodice combined with full-length lambskin pants. She looked like she'd jumped straight out of one of those quaint paintings of a girl yodeling in the Alps.

"Which is more than I can say for some people," Meg snarked.

Unlike Meg’s outfit, Ace’s get-up had been thrown together on a budget. The fancy red waistcoat he’d…acquired from a casino’s staff room and it clashed horribly with the cheap fake bundhosen bought from a tourist shop. Hopefully, the random scarf and traditional Argentinian belt he’d tacked on would make it seem more like a fashion statement instead of an insult to Bavarian culture.

"So I took some creative liberties," Ace said.

"Yeah, that’s probably for the best." Meg smiled smugly. "You're about sixty years too old to pull off leather pants, anyway."

Ace gasped. "Attacked by my own protégé! The audacity!"

"Wonder where I learned that from," Meg said dryly. She looked around again. "I'm gonna go scope out the other tents before the concert."

"And here I thought you wanted me to hold your hand at baby's first festival."

Meg rolled her eyes and pointed at a large tent with something resembling a clock tower next to it. "That one looks the busiest. You go check it out and I'll come find you once I'm done."

Ah, ever efficient. Ace had taught her well.

"Remember to have some fun, too," Ace said. "All work and no play makes Meg a very dull girl!"

"And you remember what we're actually here for." Meg's piercing blue gaze bore into Ace's. "If I find you in a beer chugging contest again, so help me—"

"That was one time and the frat boys dared me!"

"Ace."

Ace smiled and shook his head. "Of course. Who do you take me for?"

Meg raised an eyebrow. "I bet I can score more than you."

"Oh, really?" Ace countered. "Maybe whoever loses should pay for lunch the rest of the week, if you're so confident."

"Deal." Meg turned around, waving over her shoulder as she walked away. "Smell you later, old fart!"

"Have fun, Firecracker."

Meg disappeared into the crowd and Ace allowed himself a moment to appreciate how far they'd come. It seemed like just yesterday that he'd taken the girl in.

A few years ago when he'd been stateside, Ace had managed to cash out big after a blackjack win streak. When he'd left the casino, he only made it two blocks down the street before someone bumped into him and Ace was very aware of the weight of his wallet disappearing from his pocket while he struggled to right himself.

The thief had run off in a blur of red hair and sneakers pounding on pavement. After feebly trying to chase after them, Ace had stayed in the area and waited, and only a few hours later the pickpocket—a teenage girl—returned to the scene of the crime. She was clearly tailing a woman in a fur jacket and designer purse, but even across the street Ace could see that both the fur and bag were obvious fakes.

Amateur mistakes, really.

This time, Ace had familiarized himself with the surroundings beforehand and even as the girl spotted him and took off in a sprint, he eventually managed to corner her in an alleyway.

And after some angry screaming from the girl and a kick to Ace's shin, they'd ended up in a 24/7 shoddy diner with Ace buying her a meal in exchange for her story.

Meg had been homeless for months after her mother passed away from cancer. At only seventeen and with no close relatives, she'd been forced out on the streets and struggling to survive; it was only her sharp reflexes and years as a track star that kept her afloat by doing petty crimes.

And maybe it was the situation that was eerily similar to Ace's own childhood, or the fire he could see in her eyes, but Ace had only smiled before critiquing her pickpocketing technique and asking if she'd ever thought about being a con artist.

That was how Ace ended up taking Meg under his wing and teaching her everything he knew. With his experience and her quick feet, they made a surprisingly good team and had traveled across the States stealing and scamming much more efficiently than Ace usually managed on his own.

Having another person in on his schemes made a big difference. Meg could do anything from pretending to join Ace's poker table as a stranger to emptying someone's purse while Ace was doing magic tricks as a street performer. Meg had only been caught once by the police, and she'd been so convincing at sniffling pathetically and claiming she was only fifteen that the officer had taken pity and simply called her father—a.k.a. Ace's burner phone—instead of taking her down to the station.

But easy money or not, Ace hadn't expected their arrangement to last long. A few months later when Meg turned eighteen, she'd already earned enough to start her life anew—yet when Ace asked where she was planning to settle down, he only received a look of pure betrayal. And then there was screaming and crying and Meg accusing him of abandoning her, just like her dad and everyone else.

Ace had never wanted children, but as he dared to hug Meg for the first time and she merely clutched at his shirt and sobbed in his arms, he decided he'd do his best to be there for her the way nobody had been for him.

That was four years ago and Meg was still here, so he must have been doing something right.

Ace knew that their friendship was unorthodox. A middle-aged man and grumpy young woman who were visibly not related often garnered suspicious looks, especially whenever they went out to eat in a proper restaurant or money was tight enough that they had to share a twin instead of booking separate motel rooms.

Which was ironic, because it was Ace who hated sharing a room with Meg. She took ages in the shower, always sat on Ace's bed to eat and got crumbs all over the sheets, and stayed up way too late watching crappy late-night TV when Ace was trying to get his beauty sleep. It was like she knew exactly how to annoy him and did it with a smile every chance she could.

He tried not to show how proud he was of her mischievous streak.

Ace chuckled to himself. He couldn't have asked for a better partner-in-crime and he was glad they'd had enough extra cash to make the trip to Germany. Even if she tried to play it cool, Meg was clearly excited about seeing both the country and her favorite musician.

The fact that this happened to be one of Europe's biggest festivals, with countless drunk, rich patrons for easy pickings and dense crowds to quickly disappear into was simply a bonus.

Ace took a steadying breath and straightened his shirt—patterned with tiny card suits that hopefully nobody would notice weren’t traditional Oktoberfest checkers—and slipped on a familiar confident persona. As long as he pretended that he belonged here, everyone else would believe it too.

With a carefree smile and a spring in his step, Ace made his way to the beer tent to people-watch for a worthwhile target.