Raffles rec

[osprey_archer]

Have I told you guys about Raffles the Amateur Cracksman yet? As the canon is rather obscure - it was written around the same time as Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle’s brother-in-law, in fact - I figure I should explain it before reccing a fic.

Raffles is a series of short stories about Raffles, a gentleman jewel thief, and his assistant Bunny - yes, Bunny; it’s his school nickname. Bunny has a gigantic crush on Raffles. I would say the stories are loaded with subtext...but really, it’s entirely text. This is an actual quote from the actual stories:

It was Raffles I loved. It was not the dark life we led together, still less its base rewards; it was the man himself, his gayety, his humour, his dazzling audacity, his incomparable courage and resource. And a very horror of turning to him again in mere need of greed set the seal on my first angry resolution. But the anger was soon gone out of me, and when at length Raffles bridged the gap by coming to me, I rose to greet him almost with a shout.

It’s never entirely clear if Raffles likes Bunny back, or if he’s just using Bunny’s devotion to secure himself a partner (and, just as important, admiring audience) for his crimes. Fic being fic, people tend to take the first approach, but I think there’s something to be said for keeping it ambiguous...

Which, admittedly, this story does not do. (Unless you assume Raffles is lying to Bunny to keep him on the hook, which he totally could be doing, although it seems unlikely.) But I love it because it captures their dynamic perfectly, and in lovely Victorian pastiche, too.

Title: The Due Reward of Our Deeds
Author: Mercy on AO3
Fandom: Raffles, the Amateur Cracksman - E. W. Hornung
Pairing: Raffles/Bunny
Rating: R
Word Count: 2885
Warnings: No archive warnings apply
Summary: "I've been thinking what rot it is to go doing things by halves!" Takes place at the end of "Wilful Murder," after Bunny's two days of waiting for Raffles to return.

Excerpt:I think the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians has been recited in every wedding sermon in history, but that morning it had been preached in a church I'd had the temerity to enter in a moment of folly. I should likely have been better served to sit home and await Raffles with some secular verse, if I needs must be spoken to of love. Mine had indeed been patient and kind; I had bitten down jealousy when his eye turned to a pretty girl, I had written off his wrongs and hung on for the truth, and above all been faithful and hopeful. But this silent waiting was yet more of this doing things by halves. I would rot doing things by halves. I would waste away on purple diamond crumbs of hope and starve on nonchalant grasps that always took, never gave.