Thomas' POV

Marcone was funny, until he wasn't anymore, at which point he just pissed me off. I mean, Empty Night, everyone that wants to fuck my baby brother is funny to start off with, just because they're so pathetic, and it's sort of cute how hard they try. It's kind of like how Mouse was, when he was just a puppy and Harry didn't particularly want him. Mouse stayed cute, though, even though he didn't give up. These assholes got really annoying the more persistent they were. Marcone was one of the most persistent ones I'd ever met. And Harry was also the most oblivious person I've ever met, which is actually sort of useful, in my line of work as Harry's Personal Chastity Defender. I mean, fuck, I'd literally told him that Marcone wanted his ass, Marcone had not denied it, and Harry still thought I was stupid, even though he also knows that I can feel lustful thoughts, and Marcone has a boatload when Harry's around. I wouldn't be surprised if I found out that his brain turned into a twenty four hour kinky porno when Harry was in the room. I stretched out into the seat he'd forced me into, managed to appear to as though I were luxuriating despite the fact that I was actually pretty uncomfortable.

"So, I'm going to guess you don't believe the whole friend thing?" I asked, allowing a smug smile to flit across my face. If I fucked with him enough, he'd give up. He'd have to. I mean, the little mortician had given up his crush thing the second I kissed Harry's head and played up my mojo a little. Kincaid had been a little harder. He hadn't much reacted in the short term, but when I played it up long term, well, he'd given in pretty quick, since he knows how Harry gets, when he's in a relationship for a long time. He wouldn't cheat on someone to save his own damn life, honestly. The Hellhound had actually been pretty helpful, though; after I got him off of Harry, he went for his little cop friend, distracted her, which was a plus for me, since she knew who I really was, and therefore wouldn't fall for my game. Marcone, though… I'd just have to work a little harder, for him.

"No, Mr. Raith, I'm afraid I do not. Harry is not very physically affectionate, I have observed as much. Only someone very… special to him would be allowed such liberties as the ones you took. I suppose he wishes to hide your relationship to one another for some reason? Perhaps the fact that the wizards are at war with you creatures?" I laughed, and let my eyes go lidded, my mouth curl into a smirk. One thing about my heritage: I've got a perfect mastery of expressions, especially the ones that enhance my looks. A lesser man than Marcone would be drooling all over me by now.

"Oh, ha-ha, Marcone. The wizards are at war with the Red Court, not the White, and even if the White Court was getting involved in the fighting, it wouldn't come back to me. I'm an exile, remember? That means I'm unaligned. He wants to hide it to keep me safe from the Council, or his various random enemies. I go along with it, but you know, I can't help but give out a few little signals like the ones I gave you, just to let my competition know he's taken, and that they should back the fuck off, because he's mine." My baby brother. Only someone worthy of him could have him. And by worthy I mean someone who is too old for sexual relations and would just pat him on the head and give him hugs and feed him and make him take his medicine when he's sick or hurt whenever I can't come over and do it for one reason or another. Maybe his landlady, although both of us would probably get tired of yelling so she could hear us. Maybe one of my older customers at the salon? Yeah, that might work. Some of them give me food for him every time they come to visit. Marcone smirked back at me, tight and cool and controlled. Stiff, almost as though he were a mannequin. He's an unnerving mortal, I'll give him that.

"Ah, yes, and all those women you dirtied his apartment with were just for show, right? No matter what you say, I will still not believe that you are worthy of him. You are adulterous, you speak to him as though he is beneath you, and you send him off into dangerous situations without back up from anyone, much less yourself. You care more for your own life than his, don't you? He deserves more." Yeah, that was something that would always piss me off, someone saying I cared more about myself than family. Family is the most important thing, and I'd defend my sisters, my dearest little brother, with my dying breath, with all I had, every last piece of myself. Family is the one thing I actually am willing to die for. I felt my demon clawing up to the surface, begging me to kill him for speaking so insolently, but I held it down, forced it back, focused on keeping myself looking human. My eyes probably still took on a little glow. My chin was thrust out a little, because like Harry always says, the stubbornness, the defiance, is genetic. Our mother has given us a lot, some of it good, some of it horrible and scary and terrible, but I'll always be proud to have gotten those two things from her. They're what kept me alive in the cutthroat world of the White Court for so long, they're what have allowed me to keep my demon in check.

"Don't talk about things you don't know anything about. I go everywhere with Harry that he'll let me, but he's a stubborn bastard who thinks he knows what's best and would rather kill himself than think someone he loves got hurt trying to save him. Those girls I brought back? I didn't touch any of them. I did bring them around for show, to keep the act that I was just some random pervert going. I made nice with them, had them stay over, then sent them on their way. They didn't, and still don't, mean shit." A few little lies would be fine, for now. For until he gave up. So maybe forever. Still, it wasn't like Harry would ever find out what I was doing. He crossed his arms, and his own chin lifted, his own chest puffed out some.

"You cannot love him. The White Court has an aversion to love, they cannot touch it, and so one of you does not have true feelings for the other." And damn if I didn't know that. Thinking of Justine still hurt me deeply, endlessly. Harry had helped get me through the worst of it, was still helping me get through it. Harry was different, though, for me at least. Lara wouldn't be able to touch him, but I could put my hands on him for the same reason I could put my hands on Lara: family was the exception. But I couldn't tell him that.

"Only if we're trying to feed. I don't feed on him, the whole reason I own my salon is so I don't get tempted to try and eat him. I nibble on my customers and keep myself mostly full." Which was a bold faced lie on all accounts. White Court couldn't touch anyone but family with love whether they were trying to feed or not. I did nibble on Harry on occasion, when he was stressed out and overflowing with feeling, like Justine had, just to calm him down. Never enough to get him or me addicted to it, but enough to mellow him out a little, help him think clearly, and sometimes I wasn't even aware that I did it when I did it. And the nibbles I took from my customers weren't nearly enough to keep me full. Enough to keep me sane, yeah, but I was still always Hungry for more, Hungry to take all the life out of them. I never did, though, because it would make Harry sad, because it would disappoint Justine. I couldn't live with that, not anymore, not now. Marcone looked suspicious, damn him.

"That is not how my consultant explained it, Mr. Raith." I smiled blithely as we pulled up to my apartment.

"Yeah?" I asked, "Sorry, I don't think the Valkyrie knows more about the White Court than the former White Court Prince." I then got out of the car, entered my apartment, and went to bed, because fuck, discouraging Harry's suitors is full time work. Maybe I can put a little cat collar on all of them or something, one with a bell. That way, if I hear ringing, I can just steer Harry in another direction. If they can't see him, speak with him, or interact with him in any way, shape, or form, then there's no way they could take his precious innocence! I fell asleep with a small smile, imagining Marcone running around with a little ringing bell around his neck, snapping his fingers and yelling, 'Curses, foiled again!' every time I saved Harry from one of his nefarious 'trip the stupid wizard into my bed' schemes. It was the most pleasant dream I've had in ages.

Marcone's POV

"Don't let him get to you, Boss," Hendricks murmured from the front seat. I sighed, and leaned back, allowing the leather to cushion me sweetly. My eyes shut and I released a world-shaking sigh.

"I am doing my best not to, Mr. Hendricks, but the both of them are lying, and I'm unsure of what the truth could possibly be. They are not merely friends, as Harry harps, but I do not think their relationship is what Mr. Raith would have me believe either." Hendricks glanced at me through the rearview mirror, attempting to project all the disapproval he possibly could through that one simple gaze. He's had quite a lot of practice, and it worked rather well, considering. That, I suppose is one problem with knowing someone for as long as I have known Nathan: it gives them the means to sufficiently chastise you in any occasion.

"Boss, just because you don't want to believe something doesn't mean it isn't true. I don't know what else Raith could do to say 'hey, that's my boyfriend. There are many like it, but this one is mine'. Maybe a sex tape? Of course, he is a Raith, so I wouldn't be all that surprised. They probably have magic-proof cameras. Or maybe he could have done it at some point when Harry used so much magic he couldn't use any for a while." Nathan looked thoughtful. I sighed. He's a smart man, of course, but he often finds himself digressing randomly about whatever he happened to be speaking of. It was a large part of why he was having such trouble with his thesis, although Gard has been helping tremendously, from what I've heard. His current digression just happened to be about how a wizard could produce a sex tape. I sighed, and rubbed the bridge of my nose harshly.

"Mr. Hendricks. I'm afraid I'd rather not listen to this, you understand. I'm certain Ms. Gard would be happy to discuss it with you later." He blinked at me through the rearview mirror, and blushed slightly.

"Sorry, Boss. Anyway, we're pretty close to your place. Do you have any orders for me?" I thought about it for a moment as we pulled into my drive.

"Do you know if Gard could dismantle and replace Harry's wards without him being able to identify that they were tampered with?" He looked at me curiously, disapproval lurking just underneath the surface. And people wondered why I did so well. It was obviously because I had employees to play my Jiminy Cricket and give me a swift kick in the ass if I happened to go too far out of line. I didn't much feel like giving into Nathan's moral crusade that evening, however.

"She's said something to that effect before. Why?" I gave a serene smile.

"As I told Harry, I plan on returning to his apartment in the morning in order to escort him back to that pub to get his vehicle. While I am gone, I would like you and Gard to go to his apartment and plant some sort of listening device in his bedroom. Preferably one that won't fry the moment he sneezes in its direction." He tried to get every shred of disapproval to pour from his body with nothing more than an annoyed glance. Once more, he succeeded rather well. It truly gets a bit annoying, sometimes, how good he is at that.

"Boss, you do know he has a fucking mostly divine guard dog, don't you? Gard has said that thing could break me in half, if it wanted. I'm pretty sure me breaking into his house would make the thing want to. I still don't know how in hell he got that thing. I'm not breaking into his place, Boss, no way in hell. And I wouldn't even if he didn't have that dog. His cat hates me. It might not be magical, but it's a big fucking cat."

"I think you and Gard can handle the cat, Mr. Hendricks. I'll have him bring the dog with us. If he won't then I will call you and tell you to abort the plan." He still looked unwilling, and shifted slightly in the driver's seat as he twisted around to open his door. I opened my own and stepped out.

"It's a big goddamned cat, Boss." I laughed.

"Mr. Hendricks, if it makes you feel any better, I believe he lets the beast out every morning to run rampant through the neighborhood. I doubt it will even be there upon your arrival." We walked towards the front door, and he sighed.

"Fine, damn it." I went to bed with a small smile on my face.

I awoke early the next morning and set off to Harry's apartment on my own, in one of my smaller, older vehicles that would, hopefully, be able to stand being in Harry's presence for a while. I had decent hopes for it, or they were, at the least, higher than my hopes for most of my other cars. There was a reason why I never drove any of my more expensive cars whenever I knew an encounter with him was likely. I pulled into the gravel lot and walked carefully down the older stone steps that led to the front door of his basement apartment. I knocked loudly on the old steel thing, which was dented and nicked in places, warped in others, so much so that it hardly fit the frame anymore. I wondered how Carpenter ever managed to touch it without collapsing in defeat for the hopelessness of Harry Dresden. I heard a worrying crash from inside, and stuck my hand into my suit jacket, fingering the grip of my gun carefully, my free hand poised to pull a knife from a small holster at my wrist. My worry faded rather quickly, however, at the sound of Harry's voice.

"Son of a bitch! Mouse, I heard it, okay! Quit it, I need pants. Mister, damn it, that's my blasting rod! It's a very sensitive piece of equipment, it doesn't need tooth marks in it, and yes, I'm bringing it, although nothing is blasting my door down and my wards aren't going off so I don't think I'll need it. Yes, Mouse, I know how to get dressed, I can do it myself, I've done it for years without your help, and Mister, get that snide look off your face, you never had to help me either. Stars, you two worry too much," he mumbled, and the door opened to reveal one disheveled wizard, his hair mussed and the skin around his eyes slightly purpled from lack of rest. He'd thrown on a pale blue t-shirt decorated with glittery yellow stars, and I raised an eyebrow at it. He, after a few moments of gaping, recognized who I was and just what I was looking at. He blushed becomingly and glared harshly, his arms crossed, blasting rod dangling from the long, thin fingers of his right hand.

"Shut up, Marcone, it was a gift." I smirked.

"And who granted you such a… unique article of clothing." He glared harder.

"Molly. Apparently it's fashionable, and magic-y, whatever that means. She said she'd wear it, so I should be willing to too. I don't generally argue with her about things like that, me being a hopeless lost cause at anything relating to fashion, as I've been told by all of my female friends, including Murphy, like she has room to talk." He was babbling. I'd noticed he did that often, when something was making him nervous. Not frightened, as that generally resulted in things mysteriously becoming charred masses of unidentifiable goo, but uncomfortable.

"Well. It suits you, I must say." And it did, really. The blue looked nice on his skin, and though the glitter coated stars made him look even more pathetically young than he usually did, it also made him look almost painfully cute and nonthreatening. The ragged, worn jeans with holes in the knees he was also wearing helped that look as well. I'd almost expect him to have smudges on his fingers and face, from charcoal or ink, when he looked like this. Most wouldn't really associate the fiery wizard with 'bookish' I knew, but really, when one caught him off guard, that was how he often came across. It was just one more contradiction to a man who already had more of them than blood, but it only made him interesting, to me. Someone I could always learn more about, someone I'd have to work to figure out. He waved a hand in front of my face angrily.

"Hey, scumbag, I know I look ridiculous, but it's rude to stare. What are you here for, anyway? It's too early in the morning for me to deal with you. Shouldn't you be off scumbagging? You know, kicking puppies, practicing your maniacal laugh in the mirror?" That startled a laugh out of me.

"That occupies, at best, five percent of my normal day. I will admit, it takes up a bit more when you're involved. Can't have the laugh getting rusty, you know. And I believe I informed you last night that I'd be returning this morning in order to escort you to fetch your car." He blinked, appearing thoughtful for a second.

"Huh. So you did. Let me go brush my hair and I'll be back in a minute. You can come in, I guess." He stumbled forward suddenly as his monster of a cat slammed into the back of his knees and then shot by him and me, off down the street. He sighed and stepped further into his house, allowing me to come in behind him. I shouldered his door closed as he wandered through the apartment's only interior door and into his bedroom. His behemoth dog stared at me; its eyes sparking with more intelligence than any real dog should have a right to. It stepped towards me slowly, and snuffled at my hand, my clothes, then sneezed, and held out its paw for me to shake. I raised an eyebrow. Apparently it approved of me, in some form. I took its paw and shook politely, which was apparently permission for the thing to shove its massive head beneath my hand and demand that I pet it. I did so, assuming that if an animal of that size desired affection, it would get it in one way or another. I decided this was likely the least painful way for me to go about it. Its tongue lolled out and its mouth opened in what could only be called a smile, though perhaps it was also a way to display its long, sharp teeth, a sort of deterrent. I rubbed it behind the ears and noticed that one of them was notched, then buried my hands in the thick ruff of fur around its neck. Harry chose that moment to enter, his hair vaguely tamed into a mostly neat mass of dark brown curls. "You know, Marcone, if you pet him once he'll never leave you alone again." I laughed softly as the dog stepped back some to lick my hand.

"I had assumed as much, Mr. Dresden. Do you think he'd like to come along with us?" Harry looked ready to speak, but the dog wagged its tail and moved rapidly across the room. It returned with a leash in its mouth. Whatever Harry had been planning to say evaporated as he smiled fondly at the animal.

"Yeah, yeah, furface, you know I can't say no when you look at me like that. Dumb dog." The dog grinned again as Harry took the leash and latched it to the collar. I wondered why he even bothered when the dog could likely break the thin strap with little more than a thought, but I supposed it was something of a showpiece, to make the neighbors more comfortable with such a gargantuan creature sharing their space. Still, the three of us left, and Harry pulled open the back door, allowing the animal to jump into the back seat. The car shifted on its axles, and Harry ducked into the passenger seat as I climbed into the other side. He hooked his seatbelt carefully and glared distrustfully at the dashboard. I sighed.

"This is the oldest vehicle I own, Mr. Dresden. I chose it solely so that I could avoid tempting fate." Harry squirmed as I started the car, and seemed to be trying to become one with the seat.

"Yeah, and it's still a pretty new model, plus it's tiny, so I'm right beside the engine. The engines of cars don't like it when I'm right beside their engines. Makes them want to just give up and end it all. Understandable, of course, but pretty inconvenient. That's why normally when people put me in their fancy new cars they make sure it's something big. Or a motorcycle. For some reason, I don't break those. No idea why." I sighed.

"You drive a Volkswagen Beetle, Mr. Dresden. This is no smaller than that." He grinned.

"The Blue Beetle is a hell of a lot older than this, plus the engine is in the back. I'll admit, it isn't the best car around for a wizard, but it's cheap to repair, and it's mine, so I like it." It took two tries for me to get the car started, even though it had been running perfectly that morning, and the engine made an uncomfortable rattling noise even still. Harry snickered, and I stared harshly at the steering wheel as I pulled it out onto the road and directed it towards Mac's.

"I'm coming to believe that if you had a ball of lint you felt was specifically yours, you'd cry over its absence. Never before have I met a man who liked things solely because they were his." Harry let out a raucous, cutting laugh.

"For one, Marcone, I do own some balls of lint. They're pretty handy for making potions. And I wouldn't cry if they were suddenly gone. I'd be a little upset, sure, but I wouldn't cry about it. For two, you like Chicago, don't you? She's your city. And I'd assume you like your fancy-shmancy mansion." I gave him a sidelong smile.

"You're admitting that Chicago is mine?" He shrugged, staring out the window.

"I don't see how this place could belong to anyone else, honestly. You'd protect it with your life, no matter who was going against you. That's what I do for the things that are mine, or the things I love. Honestly, Marcone, if someone fucked with the Blue Beetle, I'd totally kick their ass. I guess I'm trying to say that maybe Chicago is your Blue Beetle. She can be fucked up, and dark, and dangerous, but inside she's strong, resilient, something worth keeping." I smiled.

"Your car is dangerous?" He laughed, being surprisingly open for no particular reason, so far as I could tell. Perhaps he was simply too tired to bother being defensive towards me.

"Well, considering the fact that the stupid thing's breaks went out once when I was driving up some mountain, yeah. I nearly flew off the side more than once, since there weren't any guardrails, for whatever reason."

"You're being surprisingly talkative this morning, Mr. Dresden." He shrugged.

"Mouse isn't freaking out, so I know you're not going to try anything. So long as I've got my dog, I can relax around anyone, no matter how scummy they are." So he knew of the animal's intelligence, then. I nodded and pulled us into the parking lot of McAnally's Pub, where his Beetle still rested, no more horribly disfigured than it had been the previous night. He opened up the rear door of the car and tugged at Mouse's leash. The dog huffed out a breath and stayed firmly where it was. Harry put his fists on his hips and glared. "I know, Mouse, you like newer cars and you really think I should buy one. You don't have to be all passive-aggressive about it." I shook my head and watched happily, calmly, as he argued with his dog. The part that truly made me grin was that the dog appeared to be winning, and I was quite certain that by the end of it, Mouse would have convinced Harry that he desperately needed a new Ferrari. Him being so comfortable around me was a truly welcome change.

Hendricks' POV

"This is stupid," I grunted, as Gard performed the magical equivalent of a lock pick on Harry's wards. We'd been there ten minutes already, and she hadn't really seemed to accomplish all that much. Her hand suddenly got caught halfway through some invisible barrier, and she hissed quietly. I saw a circular, bright red burn appear just below her knuckles. "This is really, really stupid." She forced her hand farther forward, and a sharp flash of bloody red, the same color as his force spell, exploded around her hand. The hair on the back of my neck raised, and I shivered, assuming that that meant the wards were down. I reached for the door handle, to get to my own part of picking the actual lock, but Gard swatted my hand away quickly.

"The wards are not yet down. That was simply the locking mechanism, the thing that keeps any random practitioner from changing or stealing his designs. It was rather sophisticated. I can't imagine what the wards themselves will entail. I'm honestly unsure of my ability to remove and replace them before he returns," she grumbled, obviously not exactly willing to admit this. Her hands started to fly, rapid-fire, again as she chanted lowly, the words foreign and lilting on her tongue. It was things like that that really reminded me that Gard was immortal, not human. Too good for me and everyone else on this dumb planet Earth. Her face twisted suddenly, confusedly, and she pressed her hands forward, some, as though she were prodding at something. I saw sparks, and she leapt back with a shocked gasp.

"Gard?" I asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but she broke into a fierce laugh and dived back towards the door.

"It seems our resident wizard has somehow managed to get his hands on something even I thought to be destroyed. There is no other way for him to have these wards. I fear we may have made a grave miscalculation, Mr. Hendricks." That sounded not at all good.

"Are we going to get killed by a fire breathing dragon or something?" She barked out another laugh.

"Not quite so dramatic, I don't think, but this may be more dangerous than we'd imagined." She worked for about ten more minutes, until she hissed out some final word, and a puff of silver emanated from the door, along with one of her runes. She stepped back, and I quickly unlocked the cheap lock on his door. He was apparently confident enough in those wards of his that mortal security took a back seat. I stepped inside cautiously, aware of Gard's warning.

"What is it that he's got, then?" I mumbled, slipping the bug from my pocket and creeping towards his bedroom.

"A very powerful Spirit of Air and Intellect, Mr. Hendricks, one that has been bound to the mortal plane for many hundreds of thousands of years. Its knowledge of magic exceeds that of any mortal practitioner on this earth. It was thought to have been destroyed with its previous owner, the necromancer Kemmler." Yeah, I'd heard about that guy before. A bad motherfucker who started a World War just because he was bored and pissed. A guy I knew Dresden wouldn't associate with if his life depended on it, so how the hell could he have gotten one of his possessions?

"You sure that's the only way he could have his wards?" Gard nodded as I carefully opened the bedroom door and planted the bug behind his dresser, where it would be able to pick up sound throughout the room, and maybe at least part of the bathroom. I slipped another device from my pocket, and, for good measure, hid it in his living room. Gard and I walked out of the apartment, me locking the door on the way out as she quickly began to weave the wards back into place.

"Yes. These wards are very, very old, and very powerful. They date back to the Middle Ages, when magic grew very prevalent and wizards were in high demand, though feared and at times hated by royals. They are some of the very first wards ever created, to defend the wizards from attack, and have long been lost to time. I've not seen them since that time. The Spirit is the only thing that would have been willing to tell of them."

"Willing?"

"Yes. Ancients such as myself would know of them, as would many fairies and other denizens of the Nevernever, but none would ever mention these, as they are rather dangerous, and somewhat taxing on their creator, although that would, of course, not be an issue for Mr. Dresden. He has added some very interesting changes to the basic design, though. I should like to examine them more thoroughly at some later date." She finished the work with a flourish and we leapt back into our vehicle and drove off.

"What makes him special enough that they wouldn't 'tax' him?" I asked curiously, as we headed towards Boss' house. Gard smirked.

"Not since the Merlin has a wizard on this earth had so much raw magic within them. He leaks power like a beacon, and throws more away in the simple act of lighting a fire than most practitioners even contain within them. It's rather fascinating, honestly, a true sight to behold, though likely the reason so many less-than-kind supernatural citizens are so interested in him. I pity the recipient of his death curse, whoever it will be. I do, however, hope that I still live to see him cast it, and see its effects." Damn. I'd known Dresden was tough, sure, but that tough, tough enough to really impress Gard? It was a little frightening.

"How'd he get that Spirit, anyway, if it was supposed to have been destroyed?" She shrugged.

"I'd suspect that some Warden was less than honest, and took it for him or her self rather than actually destroying it. After that, I'd assume that Harry somehow inherited it." I nodded.

"Wasn't he an orphan, though?"

"I believe that is what I was told, yes, but he had to have been an apprentice at some point, for him to have gained full wizard status with the White Council as he has. His master probably gave it to him as a sort of graduation gift." Wizards are fucking weird. I just want to get that out there. They are a group of weird, freaky dangerous people, every last one of them, and Harry Dresden could be their king. I heaved a sigh and stared out the window as we pulled back into Boss' driveway and went about our work for about twenty minutes until Boss got home, at which point he wanted us to set him up a place to listen to the bugs, when he wanted to. He's not very good at showing affection, if you couldn't tell. I wondered who I'd pissed off in a past life that I now deserved a lovelorn Boss who stalked the wizard of his dreams endlessly, possibly at the cost of the safety of his employees, since said wizardly love apparently had a goddamn magical all-knowing spirit living somewhere in his house. I should write a book about this stuff. I'd make millions.

Harry's POV

When we got home, Mouse was really annoyed with my door, for some reason. I told him to stop glaring at it, and dragged him inside, where he proceeded to get annoyed with my bookshelf. I swear, sometimes that dog is insanely smart, but others… well, other times he acts a lot like a dog. I filled up his punch bowl and decided to head down to the lab for a while, stock up on some easy potions.

"You know what to do if something happens, Mouse," I called to the dog as I kicked my Navajo rug out of the way and lifted the trapdoor. The rickety wooden stairs creaked familiarly as I went down them, and I grinned over at Bob where he sat on his shelf. "Wakey wakey, lazybones," I called out, expecting him to groan about that stupid pun like he usually did. Instead, two pinpricks of candlelight orange formed sedately in his eye sockets. Something had him worried, then.

"Boss, someone broke in while you were gone. I don't know what they did, and they replaced the wards, but they were still here. I mean, they didn't leave anything magic behind, they didn't stay themselves… did they steal anything?" I shook my head. I kept anything of any value I owned in my living room, and nothing was gone. "Reconnaissance then. We're going to have to bulk the wards up, so they can't get back in. Bring me upstairs?" I nodded, and plucked him up to bring him upstairs. I sat him on the coffee table, and Mouse continued to stare at the bookshelf raptly. Dumb dog. Bob talked me easily through how to strengthen them, and by the end of it, I was pretty sure there wasn't much alive that could break them down. I even put my own little flair on it, by making my lock system the magical equivalent of that labyrinth with the Minotaur in it. The only difference was, there was no golden thread out there to solve mine. I grinned proudly at my door when I was done.

"Thanks, Bob." He gave me his signature toothy (get it, get it?) grin as I brought him back downstairs. "I owe you a novel." Bob laughed.

"No problem, Harry. I mean, hey, if I didn't look out for your stupid ass, who knows what would happen to you." I laughed.

"I'd die, probably. You've saved my life more times than I can really count, Bob." Bob would have shrugged, if he had shoulders. I'm sure of it.

"Yeah, well, I sort of like you. Kind of. You know, in the sense of you keep me alive and all." I smiled.

"I get it, Bob. Love you too." I ran upstairs again before he could say anything, a soft laugh forming under my breath. I heard Mister pawing at the door and let him inside. He joined Mouse in staring at the bookshelf. My pets, everyone. I grabbed an old paperback that was slightly less destroyed than my others, marking it as my favorite book, the one I actually attempted to take care of. The back pages were still sort of sticky, though. Slime monsters ruin everything. They're the real reason why I can't have nice things. Of course, there wasn't anything but myself I could blame for the finger-shaped singes on the front and back covers, except for maybe Mister. He scared me. My kneejerk reaction is to produce fire when I'm scared. Scary things have a habit of disappearing when I do that, no idea why. I don't question it, though. Thomas appeared at my door at about ten minutes after ten, because fashionably late is his lifestyle. I'm pretty sure his salon doesn't even open on time, unless he's got one of his employees doing it. I glanced over at my bookshelf again and saw that both of my pets were still staring, and Mister had begun batting at one particular shelf, over and over again. Thomas raised his eyebrow at them, and seemed about to speak, but instead he just closed his mouth, shook his head, and deflated. He understands my life well.

"Hey there, Harry. What's up with the wards, they didn't seem quite so willing to let me in."

"Had to change them. Someone broke in while I was getting my car. I don't know who, or what they did, but still. I feel better about it, now." I dog-eared the page (bad habit, I know, but I always lose bookmarks), and stood, stretching.

"Do you think it has something to do with that?" he asked, pointing at Mouse and Mister. I shrugged.

"No idea. They get like that sometimes, it's probably nothing." He rolled his eyes and drifted across the floor to plop down beside me on the couch. The asshole even plopped gracefully. In what world is that fair?

"Yeah, Harry, because it's a really good idea to not listen to the animals that have been proven to be smarter than you on more than one occasion." I laughed.

"Shut up, bastard." I then proceeded to flop limply against him, being certain to stab him with my vertebrae whenever possible. See, I like to think that I got all of my gloriously sharp bones for a reason: to stab people. That's literally all they could possibly be good for. I think it's actually a pretty good idea, honestly. I mean, no one's going to suspect it, and the White Council can't get mad at me for it, because it wouldn't involve magic. It's my master plan, really. He made that smirk-y expression of his that usually means I'm about to get one-upped. I'm pretty sure it's a big brother thing. He twisted around and dug into my spine masterfully, loosening the muscle with depressing easy. I groaned pathetically and slumped forward as he worked up to my neck, the bones that I hadn't even realized had been out of alignment going back where they were supposed to be. I whimpered, my eyes sliding closed as he worked. "I forgive you for everything, Thomas. Even the stuff you haven't done yet. I'm not even mad about the suspicious stains on my floor by the fireplace anymore. My god, man, I love you." He laughed.

"Really?" He pressed harder, and I felt such an amazing release of pressure that I wondered how what I'd been living before was even really life. It had to have been a false life, a half-life, created by men who were like how I once was, unaware of the magic of a back rub from a White Court Vampire. He's literally the best big brother in the entire world. He has to be. "What if I wrecked your car and slept with Murphy?" I snickered, and arched my spine back up into his hands.

"Wrecking my car is a very minor offense if this is what I get in recompense, brother mine." He hit an area that was particularly tense, and I let out a moan I was hardly aware existed in my vocal range as he worked it loose. "Don't have to worry about the thing with Murph, though. She'd kick your ass just as easily as she kicks mine if you tried anything on her. She's the biggest badass I've ever met." He snickered.

"You do know how you sound when you make sounds like that, don't you?" Something popped and once again I felt that glorious release of pressure. Apparently my spine was nothing more than a knot before this magic began. I'd give Thomas the entire universe, at this point, if he wanted it. And then he stopped. I growled.

"Hell's Bells, Thomas, why'd you stop? Put your hands back on me now. Stars, I don't particularly care what I sound like. We're alone in my apartment, and you're probably exaggerating anyway." He snickered, and then his Godly Hands resumed their beautiful work. He'd get into heaven solely for this, I was pretty damned sure.

"Your wish is my command, little brother." I sighed.

"You're not that much older than me, dick." If my voice was maybe a little breathy, well, who can blame me? I've never gotten a back rub before.

"Five years is a pretty long time, Harry. Plus that shirt makes you look like a lanky teenager." I huffed.

"I hate you sometimes."

"No you don't."

"Stop calling me on my lies."

"I would, if you could lie worth shit. Your 'we're just friends' argument isn't working for shit on anyone, you know."

"Fuck off," I grunted, as my spine was suddenly actually straight again and my muscles weren't haphazardly bunched piles of barbed wire. It was a surprising feeling, and I just sat there and enjoyed it for a few minutes before I got up. The room was quiet but for Thomas' and my breathing and Mister's endless swatting at the bookshelf. I stretched, and went towards my room. "I'm going to go change out of this, then we can head to the club, okay?" He nodded, and stretched languidly across my couch, which he no longer had a right to do, by the way. I shook my head to rid myself of thinking, because that always gets me into major shit. I dressed into an older plain black t-shirt that I didn't usually where anymore, since it was sort of clingy, and my dress-jeans. Yeah, yeah, I know, if I ever need a job besides being a wizard P.I., I'm going to be screwed, because I look like a hobo even in my nice clothes. In my every-day clothes, I'm pretty sure everyone thinks I'm an alien who got sent down here to infiltrate the human masses but who doesn't understand the concept of 'fashion'. I like it, though. I say it suits me. Thomas still glared at it, though, and continued to do so even as we left the apartment and climbed into a cab, since, funnily enough, they don't have much parking at sleazy travelling clubs.

"I should have dressed you again," he mumbled. The cabbie stared at us incredulously. I realized suddenly that I'd somehow managed to get the same one I had last night. I tipped him extra when we reached the club.