Having a brother connected to Zero can be pretty helpful, when you're in the P.I. business, like I am. Oh, sure, the place is immoral in pretty much every sense of the word, but if you want info about some part of Chicago's underground, it's a damn good place to go. The hard part, though, is blending in, making myself seem like I belonged there. The first time I'd gone to the place, I'd gone with Thomas, but this time I wouldn't have that particular privilege, since I was pretty sure the swarm of women and men attacking him would distract me from my work there. Since he wouldn't be there to get me in by association, I needed to be dressed like a person who would actually go to Zero, and so, in the same way I went to Thomas to get me in, I went to Thomas to get me ready.
When I entered his apartment, Thomas discovered he just happened to have a pair of leather pants that were the perfect length for me. I was sure that was just as much of a coincidence as Michael showing up wherever he was needed was. He was at least nice enough to help me shimmy into the things, although the mere idea that I had to shimmy was sort of upsetting. I'm maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, soaking wet with my duster on. Anything I have to shimmy into shouldn't exist on this plane of reality. I said this during the shimmying process, and Thomas just glared at me, pulled my shirt off, and wrapped some leather whatsits that had no right to the title 'shirt' around my chest. I glanced into Thomas' mirror and decided I looked like a cheap BDSM model. Thomas hooked a collar around my neck. I glared, slid on my hiking boots, left his apartment, and caught a cab.
The cabbie stared at me incredulously, and I sighed, attempting to get across that yes, I did know how ridiculous I looked, and no, I would not get out of his cab despite my staggering levels of ridiculousness. I directed him to the seedy side street where Zero happened to be that night, and paid him with the crinkled money I'd managed to cram into my pants pocket. I marched up to the heavy metal door and shouldered it open with a touch more force than necessary, having grown used to my own improperly installed door, and walked down the dimly lit hallway I found to confront the bouncer, expecting a fight. It seemed Thomas had called ahead for me, though, because the bouncer let me in immediately, and I was quickly assaulted by flickering red lights and smoke from numerous less than legal substances.
People in various states of undress and sex were scattered around liberally. Men and women danced in suspended cages and around poles. One guy in the corner was sporting an erection whilst two exceedingly attractive people (I couldn't tell their gender), kicked the ever-loving shit out of him. The bass thumped loudly enough and low enough that my entire body was vibrating with it, and an aura of powerful lust permeated the air. Welcome to White Court heaven, Zero.
I had come there that night to hunt down a rogue narcotics dealer who seemed to be using some sort of Psychomancy to addict his buyers to cheap, low quality stuff with less actual product in it than a 1903 Coca-Cola, and I'd gotten a hot tip that he worked out of Zero more often than not. I slunk around through darkened corners, hearing far more bodily noises than I was comfortable with, and feeling a grope or two to my ass from some desperate schlub who apparently couldn't get anyone else. I felt sort of sorry for whoever it was, but didn't otherwise react. Again, if that person felt my scrawny ass was the only one they could get then they had to be pretty sad. I figured I could swallow my pride and give the poor fuck that much.
Anyway, I looked around for an hour or so and couldn't find anyone matching the guy's description. I was getting frustrated, honestly, and the smell of high class booze was hitting me hard. Or maybe it was the copious amount of pot in the air, but still. I'll take the legal one, please. I waded through a sea of people, many of whom grinded against me in truly fascinating ways, to get to the bar, where I ordered literally the cheapest beer I could. The bartender tried to sell me up by offering me a free drink of something with a name I couldn't pronounce, but I ignored him. As if I thought he'd actually give it to me for free. I swear, everyone I meet thinks I was born yesterday. I walked up a short flight of stairs and across a too-thin catwalk, my cheap beer clutched tightly in my hand, and grabbed a seat at a nice central table, where I'd have a clear view of most of the club.
I sipped at the beer, which didn't have a damn thing on Mac's microbrew, by the way, for about a half hour, give or take a few minutes. In that span, I was asked to dance by three exceptionally lovely women, which was surprising, and one equally lovely man, which was more surprising. I turned them all away, although one of the women wouldn't take no for an answer. She dragged me out onto the floor, her breasts held high and displayed in a leather bustier that offered only slightly more coverage than the crisscrossed leather straps across my own chest. About halfway through the dance, though, the woman shoved me down on my knees (she was really strong, damn it!), and attempted to shove my face into her crotch. Hell's Bells. I tried to squirm away, because I might enjoy giving oral, but I'd be damned if I did it in the middle of a crowded dance floor. She reached out and grabbed my hair, then tugged hard. Alright, so apparently Thomas really did manage to make me look like a masochist. I needed to remember to kill him, the next time I saw him. I was sort of wondering, though, why the apparent dominatrix before me had grabbed me instead of one of the countless better looking people in the room. Now wasn't the time to think about that, though, so I jerked free of her grasp, plucked the hairs she'd jerked free from her hand, and ran back to my beer.
I gulped down what was left of it, then fled Zero. I figured I could try again tomorrow, though, in an outfit of my own choosing. A dull ache sprouted up behind my eyes, and I figured it was the music as I stood up. My head swam, and my legs shook like I'd replaced the bones with jelly. I had no idea what was happening, and I felt, quite suddenly, too hot. I fled the building as fast as I could, hoping I could get a cab quickly and make my way home.
By the time I got outside, my head was spinning, and black spots were dancing in front of my eyes. Through the hazy, spinning thoughts in my head, I managed to piece together that I'd obviously been dosed with something, and that I was a huge idiot for finishing that beer after it had been out of my sight for so long. When I finally tumbled to the concrete a few feet from the sidewalk, all I could manage to think was that I wouldn't mind being drugged nearly as much if the beer had tasted better.
When I woke back up, I was in the back of some sort of large, moving vehicle. A van, my brain supplied lazily, a van, you fucking idiot. I groaned, not entirely by my own consent. I had a splitting headache. A voice, deep and masculine, cursed from the front seat. I was tied up, I now realized, but chances were I could pull free. The knot felt shoddily done. I forced myself up into a vaguely upright position, and opened still sleep-sticky eyes.
"How the fuck is he waking up? He should've had enough to knock him out the rest of the night, at least!" I opened my mouth to attempt to explain the truly magnificent speed of a wizard's metabolism, but what came out was more of a pathetic moan than anything. I shook my head to clear the haze, and focused hard on blocking away my body's various new aches. These fucks hadn't been gentle in moving me, obviously. The fog of pain cleared away.
"I don't know, asshole! You were the one that dosed him, not me! Maybe you fucked it up." I heard a low growl from the front, and then whispered out the spell I normally used for lighting candles. With a soft wisp of will, a tiny flame devoured the ropes around my wrists. I rubbed them for a second, to return the feeling to them, then undid my ankles while the idiots up front continued their argument. I rolled my eyes, and cleared my throat to call attention to myself.
"You know, guys, while this service has been absolutely incredible, I've got to say that I never requested a stay in Château Van." The guy in the passenger seat whipped around to look at me. He had a too-round, pugged face, with a nose that looked like it'd gone three rounds with a heavy-weight boxer without consent from the rest of his body. His hair was blonde and thin, and cropped so close to his head that I could see patches of his scalp. He had to know someone, like I did, if he'd gotten into Zero.
"Fuck," he cursed, "Fuck, man, he's loose!" I smiled sweetly, and wiggled my fingers. They were free from the comforting weight of my rings, since Thomas hadn't let me wear them, and when I shook my wrist there was a distinct lack of the happy tinkle my bracelet would have created. These two were pure vanilla, though, so I figured I could still dispatch them pretty easily, so long as they weren't working for whatever monster wanted me dead this week.
"So I am. You guys need to work on your knot tying. Maybe you should join the Boy Scouts. Hey, either of you guys want to tell me where we're going?"
"He's real mouthy, for a sub," hissed the diver. Sub? Stars and Stones, why was he calling me a sandwich?
"Probably part of his appeal, and why he's got all them scars. Punishment, you know?" Oh, hell.
"You two have it all wrong, which is surprisingly unsurprising. I'm not a masochist, okay? I'm a private investigator. I went to Zero so I could take out a dealer." They snorted, almost in perfect synch.
"Yeah, right. So you come and masquerade as a real good looking sub. You don't advertise something like that if it ain't true. We're taking you to a nice little auction, okay? Gonna get you a new master. I might sample the wares a little myself first, though," Pug Nose said, an ugly grin splitting his face and revealing yellowed teeth. I laughed.
"Yeah, see, even if I was a masochist, I wouldn't go for that. How 'bout you guys pull this car over, and I'll leave before trouble starts." I suddenly had a pistol in my face.
"Or you can sit the fuck back down and be quiet, before I shoot you in the head." Hell's Bells. I could call up a shield without my bracelet, yeah, but not one I'd trust against bullets, and even if it did work, the van was metal. The ricochet might kill me anyway, and that was the same reason I couldn't unleash any big magic in here. Metal surfaces are really unforgiving. I sat the fuck back down and was quiet. What? I like my brains where they are. Is that really so wrong? I don't think so. I sat there for about two hours with a gun to my head, until we pulled up to a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city. When we arrived, it was already pretty crowded, and I had a thought: if I waited to get free, then I could bust the rest of the people here out too. I resolved to cooperate as best I could for that reason. Pug Nose was the only one who exited the vehicle, and he dragged me up to the warehouse. The man at the door, broad and strong and stupid looking, took one look at me, handed Pug Nose a thick wad of bills, and brought me inside. He then proceeded to stab me in the arm with a long needle. I cursed as I collapsed again, and felt myself get thrown somewhere. I was getting really tired of being drugged today.
When I came to again, I was on a stage, and I'd been stripped of all I had on except for the stupid collar. I heard someone yell five hundred thousand, and forced my eyes open. There was a sea of people in front of me, most of their faces hidden by shadow. I shifted, and discovered I'd been chained up. Shit. Someone yelled five fifty. Were those people… were they bidding on me? I looked around the stage and saw that I was the only one up there, besides a guy with a microphone in his hand. I registered that someone brought the bidding to five eighty, and it slowed down to a trickle, going steadily up until it hit six twenty. The man beside me, the auctioneer I assumed, was about to call bidding to a close, and I was about to funnel force into the chain and snap it, when the warehouse door was slammed open, and in stalked Gentleman Johnny Marcone.
His money green eyes tracked over the room as I heard hushed whispers of 'Gentleman John', and 'run'. Those predator eyes finally found me, and then widened almost imperceptibly. I smirked, raised my head defiantly, and snapped the chain with a whispered 'forzare'. I then kicked the auctioneer hard in the balls and jumped down from the stage, then went over to Marcone.
"John! It's so nice to see you!" I said, sugary sweet enough to nearly make myself sick and give everyone in the room cavities. He gave me his patented battle grin, all pent up rage and sharp teeth, while Hendricks and Gard stood stoically beside him. He shrugged off his trench coat and handed it to me. I took it, and pulled it on; tying it tight to be sure it wouldn't suddenly fall off and show my bits again. See, I don't make it a habit to take things from mobsters, but when you've been drugged twice, stripped naked, and nearly bought, you make a few exceptions.
"I will expect an explanation for this." I smirked.
"And you might get one, but for now, I think this needs to be dealt with." He nodded.
"Of course." And then we fought. It was almost painfully simple, even without my staff and blasting rod, and Marcone had Hendricks and Gard help all the other trapped people out and away. That made me smile. Marcone might be a criminal scumbag, but I do respect him for things like that, for not compromising his morals. "Do you know where your blasting rod, staff, duster, and clothing are?" I shrugged.
"Blasting rod, staff, and duster are all at Thomas' place, and I don't really want the clothes I had on when I got here back. He raised a single eyebrow, the lucky bastard.
"And why is that?"
"Because only the truly generous would call those things clothes. I had to dress weird, so I could get into Zero tonight." His eyes narrowed until the green was hardly visible.
"You're far more of an idiot than I thought. Do you know how many people get taken to places like this from Zero? The number is staggering. Why in the world would you go there?" I noted that his coat was still warm from the heat of his body as I shrugged again, and wondered why I was even bothering to explain myself to him. I supposed I just figured I owed it to him, since he'd given me an opportunity to save my own ass, and the asses of everyone else here.
"I was looking for a dealer who works out of there. He messes in people's heads to hook them to really cheap stuff, gives out a lot of hot shots, stuff like that. I wasn't exactly expecting my beer to get drugged, Marcone. I sure as hell wasn't the best looking person there tonight." He looked like he wanted to respond to that, but shook his head.
"Come, Mr. Dresden. I will escort you to Mr. Raith's residence." I nodded, because again, my current situation was perfect for making concessions. I left the warehouse at his side, his trench coat fluttering around the middle of my thighs, and got into one of his dark sedans. The shooting started in the warehouse shortly after, and I couldn't bring myself to feel bad.
Marcone was weirdly silent as we drove towards Thomas' apartment on the Gold Coast, but I didn't complain too much. The situation he'd helped me out of was embarrassing enough without him gloating about it, so I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He did make it a point to escort me to the door, though, his arms crossed to reveal that he was annoyed, even though his face was as perfectly cool as it ever was. I knocked on Thomas' door, and he came quickly, although when he opened the door he didn't look like he'd been rushed. His hair was artfully tousled, and fell in a curling mass to his shoulders, and, as always, he was in his house uniform of jeans and nothing else. He stared curiously at Marcone and me.
"Empty Night, Harry, should I even ask what the hell happened?" I tried to speak, but Marcone cut me off. Of course.
"He went to Zero, where his drink was drugged; he was kidnapped, and brought to a human auction. This is, apparently, partially your fault." I squawked loudly as Thomas simply leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't tell him to go there, he wanted to all by himself. He's a big boy, Marcone, if a big boy who's stupid enough to mess up one of the first rules of clubbing and drink something that's been out of his sight, or something a stranger gave him. All I did was give him clothes that would get him through the door. You're going to have to pay me for those, by the way, Harry." I squeaked, I can admit it.
"How much could a pair of leather pants and strips of leather cost, asshole? And they let me keep the collar, see?" I gestured to the offending piece of jewelry strapped around my neck. He laughed softly.
"Those pants were a hundred dollars. That shirt was one fifty. The boots were yours, so I don't know what they cost."
"That wasn't even a shirt! It was strips of leather, damn it! And why would anyone pay a hundred dollars to get vacuum sealed into a pair of pants?" Marcone watched this back and forth silently up to that point, but he then held up a hand to stop Thomas from speaking again.
"Mr. Raith. From what I have heard, you purposefully dressed him in provocative clothing, allowed him to go into an environment I'm certain you know is very dangerous, and also knew that he likely would not know how to defend himself against said dangers." Thomas sneered, and even though it twisted his face in ways that should've made him look monstrous, revealed the dangerous pieces that lurked just under his skin, he simply looked beautiful as always, a snarling god forced onto earth to consort with us unworthy mortals.
"Excuse me for assuming he was enough of an adult to realize that people in that place would attempt to take advantage of him." Marcone gave a frigid smile. I held out a hand to each of them, and the sleeves of the trench coat, already an inch or two too short, came up on my arms even farther.
"Marcone, stop it. I was an idiot, that isn't Thomas' fault. I drank a beer that I hadn't been able to see for an extended period of time. That was dumb of me; I know that, so stop blaming him for me being stupid. And also, Thomas, I at least didn't take the free drink the bartender offered me, even though it probably would've tasted a hell of a lot better than the shitty beer I ended up with." Thomas rolled his eyes at me and offered a peaceable smile.
"You got yourself drugged for a shitty beer? Moron. I'd have been a lot prouder if you'd gotten drugged over good beer, or hey, maybe even some classy drink. Anyway, get your ass inside. My 'boyfriend' coming to my apartment naked and in the arms of another man isn't really good for my image." I snickered softly and nodded.
"Marcone, I guess you can come in for a minute or two, while I get dressed, so I can give you your coat back." He nodded and we walked in together, him still looking unhappy. Thomas let me back into the bedroom where he'd helped me dress in the first place, the room still just as slovenly as it had been when I left. My brother really does amaze me sometimes. What I really wonder over is how he can manage to impress women with a pigsty, when I had to spend all my money on a steak dinner just to get acknowledged sometimes. It really isn't fair. Still, I was grateful to have my ill-advised t-shirt decorated with a tiny Harry Potter giving Lord Voldemort a one-fingered salute and my ragged jeans back. They were old as hell, yeah, but really, really fucking comfortable and amazing and oh, yeah, they hadn't cost two hundred and fifty 's always a plus, in my book. I was also pretty glad to get the stupid collar off, even though that took a few minutes longer than it should have, because Thomas didn't hook it from the front, where I could remove it easily, oh no, he buckled it on the back of my neck and under my hair because he actually, literally hates me. Thomas gave the outfit the same disgusted look he had when I'd first come over, though. Because he's a bastard. Forever. Marcone gave it a similar appraising look. He's a dick, though. I don't care what he thinks. I tossed his jacket back to him, and he slung it over his shoulder as Thomas moved to lean heavily against my arm, how he sometimes did when he wanted to touch someone but didn't want to actually say that. Marcone looked at us balefully.
"I'd suggest that you look after him a bit better, Mr. Raith, lest he get taken from you." And there was a veiled death threat if I'd ever heard one, and I'd heard them a lot. Stars, and I'd thought Marcone and I were cool at the moment. What could I have possibly done to piss him off? He left before I could say anything in response, because if there's one thing Marcone is a master of, it's disconcerting exits. Thomas, however, didn't seem to be taking the threat to my life as seriously as me, though, because he started laughing into my shoulder as soon as the door slammed shut. I swatted him upside the head and led us to sit on his couch that was more decorative than functional. I felt a spring digging into my ass, apparently determined to become one with me. Thomas seemed to have no such problems, although most of his upper body was supported by me at that point. If there's one thing about Thomas, it's that he's really physically affectionate, when he can get away with it. One of his favorite pastimes was to sneak kisses to the top of my head, my forehead, my cheek, places like that, or grab me up into tight, one-armed hugs.
"Thomas, Marcone threatening my life is not a laughing matter!" I said, and Thomas choked and rolled his eyes at me.
"Dumbass, he wasn't threatening you, he was threatening me. He thinks we're dating, and also that I'm a really shitty boyfriend." He had to break for bouts of snickers during this statement, which really just made it even more unbelievable.
"Thomas. There are so many things wrong with that, I have a problem pointing them all out. For starters, is that rumor even still going around?" He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Harry, you're at my apartment at least once a week, you visit me at the salon, I lived with you for a year which you've allowed none of your love interest's to do, and Butters, along with about a fourth of SI and half the CPD is pretty sure you're gay. Add in your little display a few months ago in which you played the part of the scorned boyfriend with the mellow-dramatics that only you could pull off and still be believed, and I'm more surprised that there are still hold outs to you being straight."
"But he's John Marcone! Hell's Bells, I wouldn't be surprised if he knew what was actually going on with us." Thomas gave me that 'you're an idiot, but I love you anyway' look again, with a distinct lack of the love part.
"He's a mob boss. They get a lot of their info through rumors, and all the rumors say we're fucking." I sighed.
"But he knows I like women. He's seen me with Susan! I'm pretty sure he knows I'm straight as a ruler just like you do, Thomas." Thomas laughed.
"Ruler, huh? Maybe the bendy kind. Anyway, are your only problems with the fact that he's John Marcone and disbelief that a really common rumor is still going around?" I pouted at him, because he's my older brother, and I'm allowed to pout at him. Plus he made a bisexual crack at me, and while that was maybe sort of true, I wouldn't stand for it from him.
"Well, going on him thinking that we're together, which I'm not sold on, why would he think you were a bad boyfriend? Or, better yet, why would he care enough to threaten you when he's only met you like, once before now?" He decided to give me a turn leaning on him, which was appreciated. Plus, when he's in the mood to let me do that, he plays with my hair, which is just awesome. Sometimes I really do consider letting him give me a haircut.
"Little brother, when I was living with you, I brought some woman to your place at least once every three days, sometimes more, depending on how many joggers happened to be around. Your neighbors were telling me that I should be treating you better. I got a lecture from your landlady about how you were a very sweet young man who deserved better than a cheating asshole boyfriend. Marcone probably knows about this, because he's a creepy stalker who follows you around way too much for me to be comfortable. He now also realizes that I dressed you up in a skimpy outfit and then, essentially, fed you to the wolves, and may think I did so to get some kind of sick thrill. Oh, and he cares because he wants to bend you over and fuck your ass 'til kingdom come." I choked, and his fingers dug into my scalp just so to settle me down.
"Who gave you crack, Thomas? Tell me, and I'll go deal with them for you. Marcone does not want to fuck me. Oh, and when I came in, you might have called me your boyfriend, but you sounded all sarcastic. He's not stupid; he'd know you were saying it as a joke about the rumors." Thomas shrugged the shoulder I was laying on.
"Which one of us is the psychic vampire, huh? I know lust when I feel it. And people hear what they want to hear, Harry. If he thinks we're dating, he'll take me calling you my boyfriend seriously, no matter what inflection I put on the word. Chances are he just thinks I was being a condescending prick." I laughed quietly, my eyes drifting closed as I clumsily patted his thigh as a reward for petting my hair.
"You are a condescending prick. You'd be even more of one if you stopped rubbing my head. There any food around, by the way?" I could feel him shrug again.
"No idea. Maybe. I don't cook, you know that. Probably a frozen dinner in the fridge that's still good, if you haven't managed to destroy said fridge again yet."
"You know I can't help it," I mumbled, "You wanna hit Mac's? He'll still be open, unlike everywhere else." I felt Thomas' hair tickle my face as he nodded, and we stood up together. I shrugged on my duster, which had been slung over one of Thomas' chairs with no small amount of familiarity, and we left the apartment and piled into the Blue Beetle, since Thomas didn't really want to risk his Hummer dying because I breathed on it while tired and not quite as in control of myself, which was probably a good idea, since even the Beetle was stuttering a little in my presence. We made it to Mac's in one piece though.
I expected the Old World pub to be desolate, at this hour, but a black sedan I recognized, the one Marcone had driven me to Thomas' with, sat in front of the place as well. Damn it. Thomas just laughed, and we went inside together, shoulder to shoulder, how we often found ourselves walking without really being conscious of it. Mac looked up from his place behind the bar as soon as the door opened, his white apron still spotless. Marcone and Hendricks (who, now that I thought about it, had been the one driving us), sat together at a table in the middle of the room, nearby the pillar with Little Red Riding Hood carved into it. He gave Thomas and me a polite nod of recognition which I returned, and Thomas poked my arm.
"Steak sandwich, please," he said, grinning, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Money?" He kept up his grin.
"Consider it a start on those clothes." I punched his shoulder companionably, and got the same treatment in return. Hell, Mac already knew we were really friends, and Marcone… well. I didn't know what he really thought. Still, I didn't really think it was imperative for me to keep Thomas at arm's length right now.
"Dick. Go grab a table. You want a beer too?" He nodded, and, because he likes to be difficult, took the table beside Marcone's even though there were plenty of empty tables farther away. Marcone glared at him, and seemed to say something, but I couldn't quite hear him from where I was, and besides, I was giving Mac my usual greetings and getting my usual nods and grunts in response as I placed Thomas' and my orders. I stood there by the bar until our food and beer was ready, put my money on the counter, and then brought it over to our table and sat it down. I caught something about someone not being good enough for something or another, before Marcone and Thomas ceased their conversation.
"Thanks, Harry," he said, flashing a tiny smile at me, and I nodded.
"You know it's not a problem." I caught sight of Marcone's hand tightening around his knife, then saw Hendricks' hand settle on the man's shoulder and tighten.
"Still," Thomas said with a shrug, taking a big bite out of his steak sandwich as I started to cut my steak and snatched a fry off his plate. "Hey! You've got baked potato, quit it!" I grinned and took another. He cut off a fourth of my potato and took it, meaning the war was on. Neither of us got any of our own potato product, as the other stole all of it. Ah, being brothers was just so much fun. Marcone ended up watching us the whole time, though, even though he and Hendricks finished long before we did.
"You know, Marcone, I think we can manage to eat and get to our respective homes all by ourselves." He raised an eyebrow.
"You aren't spending the night with him, Harry?" Well, shit. Apparently he did think we were together, then. I sighed, and decided that playing dumb would maybe be better in this situation.
"Where would I sleep? His couch feels like it's stuffed with rocks. And don't call me Harry." He blinked, and actually looked lost for a second, as though some bit of certain knowledge had crumbled away. He looked like how I would probably look if I suddenly found out that the Blue Beetle was finally beyond saving. Thomas was hiding a smirk behind his hand, I could tell.
"I had thought…" Thomas slung an arm over my shoulder, and grinned.
"That little 'Arry and I were together?" he asked, using his shitty French Toe-Moss accent. Marcone blinked.
"Yes, actually. Most seem quite certain that you two are… intimate." I sighed.
"There's a difference between intimate and affectionate, Marcone. Most people can't really tell the difference between them. We're just really good friends. He's into women." Thomas pressed a kiss onto my cheek then stretched up to scruff my hair. "Bitch," I mumbled. He laughed again. Marcone stared at Thomas, confused.
"And you didn't mention this when we were speaking earlier because, Mr. Raith?"
"It was fun to watch you squirm, Marcone. Besides, I didn't really see the harm in you thinking he and I were fucking. Like you said, a lot of people do. A lot of people also think he's my Thrall, but still. I guess I should just be glad you didn't attempt to stake me or something. It wouldn't work, but still."
"But he is not your Thrall, and you are not together, correct?" I snickered.
"No, Marcone. Do I look like someone he could ever dream of Enthralling? I'm a wizard; I could throw him across the room easy." Thomas patted my head, and I leaned into it habitually.
"Wizards are good status symbols, though. It's why Lara wants you so bad." I feigned swooning.
"And here I thought it was for my dashing good looks. Stones, Thomas, I already knew that. I could be the crown jewel in any collection, because of my power, and more so since I'm the Council's black sheep and all." The black sheep raised by the Blackstaff. It was kind of funny, when I thought back on it. He nodded, and we turned to go out the door, but Marcone grabbed my wrist. Thomas had my other one seconds before he would've managed to yank me backwards towards the table, so instead I ended up stretched out between the two of them, my shoulders aching as they tested one another's grip.
"Mr. Raith, please. I am not done speaking. If you two are not dating one another, what is your relationship?" Thomas heaved a sigh.
"We're friends. Haven't we already gone over this? He is my friend, who let me freeload off of him for a year because I'm an exile." Marcone scoffed.
"Which is apparently not enough for you to forgive him for being kidnapped." I kept trying to break into the conversation, but apparently neither of them thought I had anything invested in it.
"I'm pissed at him for doing something stupid. I'm always pissed at him for doing something stupid, because he's always going off and doing something stupid. I asked him over a hundred times not to go by himself, but he said he could manage, and I gave up following him the last time he broke my Hummer. Oh, and if you were talking about me saying he had to pay me back for those clothes, I was kidding. I was expecting him to set them on fire anyway, honestly. It's a nice surprise that they even still exist." Once more I tried to speak, and once more I was denied.
"Ah, yes, such a lovely, equal friendship the two of you have. I'm sure you are endlessly deserving of the care he heaps on you, vampire."
"Oh, you think you're better qualified for it? No, wait, you don't want friendship, you want his ass. Sorry, sorry, White Court and all. I get the two mixed up sometimes. Now let go of him." Marcone actually laughed.
"Yes, certainly, I'll let him go with you. You two are just friends, after all, and you'd never dream of taking advantage of his trust, I'm sure." He jerked hard at my wrist, and I felt my shoulders pop. Yeah, no, I wasn't dealing with this shit anymore, not at the cost of my bones. They've been broken enough, thanks.
"Hell's goddamned Bells, both of you shut up, and quit pulling on me like a ragdoll! Marcone, Thomas is not going to do anything to me. I've known him for years, and I trust him, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop treating him like he was a pervert offering me candy and a puppy. And Thomas, if you don't stop picking fights, I'll leave you here. We came in my car, remember?" Thomas let go just as Marcone defied my wishes (why I expected he wouldn't, I don't know), and pulled hard one last time. I was sent careening back over to him, and, in the process, smashed my hip against one of Mac's solid wood tables. Marcone caught me against his chest, and I heard Hendricks sigh. Mac put his double barrel on the bar as a silent warning for us to calm our asses down and not cause a fight on his neutral ground. Marcone's heart was thumping rapidly in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his blood. "Marcone," I said, annoyed, shoving off of him to stand on my own. He looked up at me harshly, money eyes flashing darkly, turning the money to tree leaves in late summer.
"You are not leaving with him, Harry. If I must, I will escort him to his home whilst you drive to your own, or I will escort you while he takes your car." I rolled my eyes at him.
"Thomas, come on." I tried to leave, but Marcone stopped us again, except this time he used his brick wall, Hendricks.
"Well, I suppose I must pull the alcohol card, then. You both consumed two drinks, and so you are both unfit to drive. I will drive you both to your respective apartments. Harry, I'm sure your… car, if it can be called that, will be fine here overnight, and I will drive you back here in the morning to fetch it if you'd like." My mouth gaped open, and I looked at Mac desperately. He shrugged and made a gesture that suggested he'd been planning on taking my keys anyway, because Mac has a thing about drunk driving. Even though it takes a lot more than two beers to get a wizard drunk, damn it. He'd taken my keys before when I was cold sober. I didn't know why I'd thought it would be different this time. I glared at the floor.
"Fine, Marcone. Come on, Thomas, we're not getting out of this anyway." He laughed softly and slung an arm over my shoulder. Damn, but he was touchy-feely tonight. The last time he'd been like this had been shortly after he found out about what he'd done to Justine. He hadn't let go of me all night, that night. I was beginning to wonder if I even should leave him in his apartment alone tonight. Anyway, Marcone led us to his car, and somehow managed to wrangle us around so that Thomas got put in an area where only one person could fit. Weird as it seemed, I was starting to grow a little suspicious of Marcone and his… intentions, towards me. Now, I of course still didn't believe Thomas' stupid theory, but my earlier one, about him threatening me subtly, was starting to look good again. I still didn't know what I could've possibly done to piss him off at me recently, though. Thomas stared at Marcone the entire way to my place, and made literally no attempt to pull off his oblivious, harmless pretty boy look, which had made an appearance with pretty much all of my enemies, to lull them into security before Thomas brought his beast out to play. I guessed that he didn't figure it was worth it, since Marcone already knew his true power.
Still, the whole ride was quiet, and when Hendricks pulled into the gravel lot in front of my apartment, I was eager to get inside. Plus Mister and Mouse were probably starving and wanting for a Coke and a bottle of water, respectively. I opened the car door and swung my legs out as quickly as I could, but Marcone grabbed my bicep before I could completely escape.
"Goodbye, Harry. I will see you soon." I blinked. See you soon? Veiled threat much? Stars and Stones.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't call me that, by the way, scumbag. And bye. See you later, Thomas. I'm going back to Zero tomorrow night, so if you want to defend my honor or whatever you can meet me here at about ten o'clock." He nodded, and gave me a sarcastic salute. I rolled my eyes as Marcone released my arm, and stretched over to give him a quick, brotherly hug. "Call me if you need me, okay? For anything," I added, since I was unsure what had gotten him so cuddly, and it might send him spiraling or something. I wanted him to be sure that I'd be there, if he needed me, no matter the hour. He nodded, and flashed me a smile that could've come out of a Colgate commercial.
"Sure thing, Harry." I then climbed out, walked into my apartment, and got a comforting Shoulder Block of Love from Mister, and a nuzzle to the hip from Mouse. God, but I loved my pets. I didn't know why, but I was insanely happy to be home, to see them, to be okay. I crouched down and wrapped Mouse into a hug, receiving a lick to the cheek from him, whilst Mister knocked into my thigh and purred like a diesel engine. I laughed quietly.
"Thanks, furfaces. I really do love you guys." Mouse woofed as softly as he could, but it was probably still loud enough to wake the neighbors. Except Mrs. Spunklecrief, of course, hard of hearing as she is. I smiled, and went into the kitchen to feed them. If they slept with me that night, well, I wasn't going to complain. They were warm.