Murphy's POV
Before I say anything else, I want to get one thing out of the way: anyone with any of Dresden's blood is insane. Automatically, no questions asked, obviously, insanely insane. Thomas Raith, Harry's half-brother, is not the exception to this rule. He's the reason for it. Sometimes, though, crazy people have good ideas. Harry himself displayed that pretty often, when he wasn't proving that he was, in fact, nothing but a human-shaped blob of misplaced chivalry and heroism. Still, he was my friend, and I loved him, even when he was being stupid and annoying. Thomas proved it less often, though, but still, his plans for protecting his moronic brother and my best friend were usually pretty good, when one was able to cut away the cursing and death threats. Either way, if it had been for anyone else, I wouldn't have involved myself in something so stupid. Harry really needed it, though.
That misplaced chivalry and heroism of his generally got him into deep shit, shit he usually refused to allow others to help him out of because 'he didn't want us to get hurt' and 'it was his problem, not ours'. He then proceeds to go rushing into something insanely dangerous with a half-baked, just-this-side-of-suicidal plan and throw fire at things until they go away. He needs someone (a lot of someones, actually) to look after him more than anyone else I know. I got up that morning at eight o'clock and dressed in plain clothes, then drove to Billy and Georgia's apartment, which Thomas insisted on calling our headquarters, and found that it was already pretty full. Thomas, as always, stood at a podium he kept in Billy and Georgia's closet, while Billy, Georgia, and Molly were seated on the couch. Michael and Charity sat in two large lounge chairs, while Lara Raith luxuriated on an old kitchen chair, somehow managing to look like the most comfortable person in the room. Justine was settled on top of a desk, her white hair piled prettily atop her head, and I took a seat beside her easily, keeping one wary eye on the eldest of the Raith siblings. Harry's old foster father, Ebenezer McCoy, had taken a place leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, looking every bit the surly farmer he was. I rolled my eyes at the picture we had to make, but this was necessary lunacy.
After that thing Harry had with Susan… well, that was the moment that I truly decided Harry needed someone to take care of him, no matter how often he tried to show that he was above any form of assistance. He refused to come out of his apartment after that, wallowed in guilt and grief and self-pity over something that wasn't even his damned fault. I'd never really liked Susan anyway, honestly. I'd always figured she was just using him, and she'd only proved me right, from what Harry had said. She came to a party he'd told her not to come to, ignored every warning he'd given, and yet he still somehow saw her semi-vampirism as his fault. She'd known the risk, and she'd done something stupid anyway. She'd then done not shit to dissuade him from his notion that he deserved the blame, besides a vague apology that she should've known he wouldn't totally grasp. If I could hit her once, with my full strength, as best I could, I'd take the opportunity in a second and enjoy the hell out of it. Now, I hadn't always been the best friend to Harry, I knew that, but I'd made up for it, grown to understand that sometimes there were things he just couldn't tell me. He still felt guilty about her. I'd do whatever I could to make sure he never, ever felt like that again. This club, it helped me do that, gave me other people that wanted the same thing. Thomas cleared his throat after I settled myself on the desk, and began to speak.
"Hello, my loyal members! It seems as though someone has finally gotten through my Impenetrable Fortress of Cock-Blocking, somehow. That someone is Gentleman John Marcone. Last night, he brought my little brother out for fancy steaks and chocolate delights, and put a ring on his finger. Harry kept the ring. We need to deal with this, and I think that operation Chastity Belt is the best method." I honestly had no idea what to say. John Marcone, notorious criminal, had apparently proposed to Harry Dresden, notorious psychopathic wizard Private Investigator, and Harry had accepted it. I hadn't even known the two of them were dating. The looks on the faces of everyone else in the room, except for Lara, suggested that they hadn't really known either. I wondered how Harry had even been keeping his business going, if he had criminal ties now. Well, more than ties, really. I was pretty sure that him marrying the Boss would put him pretty high up the ranks in the criminal world. How had Thomas even let it get this far without resorting to castration?
"How in the world did you even let them date long enough that proposing was a thing that could happen?" I asked. Thomas raised an eyebrow.
"Harry didn't even know the asshole was interested until yesterday, and I'm pretty sure he still thinks Marcone has some ulterior motive. I'm going to guess that Harry took the ring to get him to shut up and, what with him being an idiot and all, forgot any other meanings wearing a ring someone else gave you on your ring finger could conceivably have. Marcone will probably be making attempts to get him alone, maybe as we speak. We need to intervene into any situation that could possibly result in them being within twenty feet of one another." McCoy spoke up.
"Why ain't we just shooting the bastard?" Thomas and McCoy get along pretty well, during these meetings. Sure, any other time they're at one another's throats, but apparently they find it easy to put their differences aside whenever they're hatching murder plots for any potential love interest in Harry's life. At this point, the two of them probably have a contingency plan in place for me, too.
"That's Plan B," Thomas said easily. McCoy nodded, and fiddled with the staff in his hands. "Now, from now on, I'm going to be spending pretty much every possible moment in Harry's apartment with him. I'll call you all with missions. Meeting adjourned." He mimed banging a gavel, and when he left, a crude line drawing of Marcone hanging by his toes from a telephone wire fell out of the pocket of his obscenely tight jeans. I shook my head. I'm not allowed to be surprised at things anymore. It's a part of the 'I know Harry Dresden' package. Still, the part of that package that gifted me with a friend like Harry, who was selfless to a fault and braver than half the damned world put together, was enough for me to overlook the bad bits like that.
I wondered if maybe Thomas would trash one of Marcone's cars. That was the sort of petty vandalism I could get behind even as a cop. I mean, hell, I'd looked the other way on bigger offenses than that, and that offense would be a lot more satisfying. Maybe I could bring it up the next time Thomas gave me a call. I got back into my car and drove to the precinct to get the remainder of my actual day started, and spent the entire time staring at my phone, hoping that the next call would be from Harry's elder brother, telling me something I could do to help keep the moron safe in one of the few ways I actually could. If he refused to let me protect his body, then I'd damn well protect his heart and his mind. His call came at about twelve thirty, though, and I grinned as I gave Rawlins my desk for the afternoon.
Harry's POV
Yesterday had been tiring enough that I slept in until noon, at which point Mouse awoke me, my phone, which was ringing noisily, clutched in his jaws. This situation will probably disappoint you a lot more when I reveal that, no, that was not the first time I'd been woken up that way. It was the third. It's happened four more times since then, if that's relevant at all. I grunted and took the phone from the dog's jaws, and sighed. I'd bought a longer cord for the thing for this exact reason.
"'Lo? 'S Dresd'n," I mumbled, my voice sleep-low and slurred. A deep chuckle came from the other end, broken in half by a spark of static as I recognized the voice.
"Good afternoon, Harry. Did I wake you?" Marcone. Should've figured. I scratched my chest distractedly, and Mouse huffed.
"Nah, Mouse did. Brought me the phone," I said, a yawn distorting the last few words. Marcone paused, and I assumed he was digesting the information I'd just provided.
"Your dog brings you your phone?" I could see him shaking his head as he remembered just who he was speaking with. "Never mind. I called to see if you'd like to go to a movie this evening." I raised my eyebrows at the air. Mouse snuffled and put his head on my leg. I ran a hand through the thick ruff of fur around his neck.
"Hey, Marcone, you do 'member who you're talking to, right? Bane on all technol'gy? Murd'rer of computers an' cell phones an', yeah, movies." I probably shouldn't be talking to Marcone while tired. It didn't seem like a good idea, for some reason. I can't imagine why. Marcone let out a huffing laugh that sounded a little like Mouse.
"Mother of God, Harry, please don't talk to people on the phone when you're just waking up," he said, voice a little tense. The line snapped and stuttered angrily. Look, I have a lot less control of it when I'm tired, okay? It really isn't my fault. Besides, he was making fun of how I was talking, even though it was his fault I sounded like this.
"Shut up, scumbag," I grumbled, "Issat it? If you jus' called to make fun of me, then I'm going back to bed." I could hear his smirk. See, before I met Marcone, I wasn't even totally sure what a smirk was. Now, after so many years of knowing him, I can hear when someone's doing it. Well, hear when Marcone does it, at least. I've still never met anyone who smirked quite like Marcone.
"Well, I'd been planning to tell you that I rented out a local theatre and had a few movies you enjoy converted to play on an antique projector." Marcone… rented out a theatre. An entire theatre. And had movies I liked converted to a format in which I could watch them without spending over half my concentration on keeping a suppression going. How did he even know what movies I liked anyway? This was just… weird. It was weird. I kind of had to admit that I maybe sort of liked someone doing something so nice for me, even if it was exceedingly creepy and stalker-y, though. I glanced down at the ring on my finger that I hadn't bothered to remove. The gold glittered prettily in the candlelight, and the gem, which I'd finally recalled was a garnet, glimmered darkly. I, for some reason, hadn't particularly wanted to take it off once I'd gone to bed. I found myself waking up pretty quickly.
"Okay. Uh, is there any reason that you bought out an entire theatre and spent probably a lot of money to convert movies that you shouldn't even have any idea that I like to play on something I can be in contact with?" Marcone chuckled warmly, not unkindly, with a note of genuine happiness I was still having a hard time associating with him.
"Shouldn't it be obvious at this point, Harry? I enjoy your company, and wish to have it more often, perhaps for the rest of my life. I care deeply for you." He spoke clearly, sharply, his words coming with an ease of truth I could hardly understand.
"Um?" I said, quick witted even in my surprise. Marcone chuckled again.
"I'd like an actual answer, dear." The air received the wrath of my glare yet again. I swear I could feel it fleeing from my vicinity.
"It's no if you don't stop talking to me like you would a girl," I hissed. Another laugh from his end.
"Harry, I'm quite certain I could never mistake you for a woman. You're very obviously all man. Now, may I have an answer instead of an avoidance tactic?" I… sort of wasn't sure if I should be insulted or not. I also wasn't sure about what I should say. The last time I'd gone out with him, I'd done it because I wanted to see what he was up to. This time, I wouldn't have that excuse. If I went, it would be because I wanted to, no excuses. This shouldn't be so hard. I should just be able to say no on principle, because that was what was right and good and proper, because I was the good guy and he was the bad guy. I shouldn't have enjoyed his company. I shouldn't be thinking about going. I shouldn't be… shouldn't be… I glanced at the ring again.
Marcone hadn't ever been bad to me, had he? Not really, not after we met that first time, and he hadn't done what he did then out of any actual spite towards me. I still hated what he did, though, what he stood for. He was the figurehead of this city's underbelly, the darkness that lurked under the rapid fire activities of the everyday, mundane population. He'd helped me before, though, saved my life more than once. I didn't really know what he was to me, though, what to call him. Enemy? No, I didn't hate him, I wasn't sure I ever had. There were some occasions wherein I could actually say I sort of liked the guy, like when I saw him with little Amanda, or when he saved my ass from that auction thing. Ally? It was more than that. Friend? That didn't feel right either. I was confused, mentally hysteric, all that. That's why I said what I did, I swear.
"Yeah, alright. When do you want to go?"
"Three o'clock, perhaps? I'll be by to pick you up at two. We can have lunch together." He sounded so… excited. He was really making it hard to see him as an inhuman robot-beast whose only programming instruction was 'be a scumbag'.
"I'll be here, I guess. Bye, John." He hung up, and I gave to phone back to Mouse. Shut up. Now. What does one wear to a movie with a mafia don? Well, I just found something out; there are questions you never think you're going to ask, and then there are questions that you never knew existed. I was pretty sure that this question I'd just asked was on par with 'how do I give a possum a pedicure?' I scratched my head as the doorbell rang and I wandered into my living room to open. Thomas stood on the other side, and, him being Thomas and all, immediately began to yell at me.
"Empty Night, Harry, why in the world are you answering the door at noon in your underwear? Are you an idiot? There are molesters out there! Waiting to molest you! Don't you want to remain unmolested?" Stars and Stones. There are no other words for that. I shook my head.
"Thomas, I'm not going to be molested. I have no idea what you're even saying, honestly. Why are you here anyway?" He pouted and shouldered his way inside, slamming my door behind him. It's really unfair that he's allowed to slam that door and I'm not. The bastard. I don't even know how he does it. I say the stupid thing just likes him.
"Can't I just come for a visit with my baby brother?"
"I saw you less often than this when we were living together. Besides, I'm going out later today anyway." Tension flooded him immediately, and he grabbed my biceps in a nearly bruising grip.
"Where are you going?" I tried to jerk free, but Thomas' heritage means he's a hell of a lot stronger than I am. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, because I knew Thomas wouldn't hurt me, but it was hard to remember a time when I couldn't get away that didn't result in me being injured.
"John invited me to go to a movie," I said, using his first name without really thinking about it, which was weird, since I usually just used it to piss him off. Come to think of it, though, it hadn't been bothering him much, lately. Weird. I'd have to find something else to bother him with. Thomas shook me some.
"Idiot! Why are you doing that?" I shrugged, and gave my best sidelong smile.
"He's not a bad guy, not really. Besides, I hardly ever get to go to movies. It'll be fun for me." I could feel Thomas' fingers twitching and pulsing around my arm, saw his face twist somewhat angrily.
"Can't you listen to me for once? He's bad news!" I finally managed to shrug him off, even though it made my arms throb with the annoyed sort of pain I was used to, and had come to understand as my body telling me I should go fuck myself.
"He was fine last night, Thomas! I don't think he's going to suddenly decide I'd look better with a knife in my back. Haven't I always been a good judge of character?" He gave me an incredulous look, crossed his arms.
"No. No, you haven't. You trust me, right?" I raised my eyebrows and nodded. "See? Bad judge of character. I'm a vampire, and you let me live in your house, eat your food, and sleep in the next room. You've also got a spirit in your basement that, if let out, could kill you in a second if it wanted. You have a fairy, who has been proven to want to make you into a nice little puppy, living in the part of the Nevernever connecting to your house, and you've yet to bother about trying to fix that. You trust anyone that plays nice with you, because not many people do, and you take kindness where you can get it, no matter how dangerous the source is. I'm not worried that Marcone is going to betray you, Harry. I'm worried that he'll get tired of you, or worse, you'll get tired of him and he'll want to keep playing." I ran a hand through my hair, and felt it stand up on end.
"I'm not dating him, Thomas. I just think that maybe I should be on friendlier terms with someone who has saved my life at least three times." Thomas growled, low and rumbling.
"Yeah? Well he wants a hell of a lot more than 'friendly'. If you do this, you're going to be telling him you're interested in more too."
"That's why I'll explain all that today." Thomas looked frustrated, angry, desperate, and dangerous for a split second, and then it all disappeared. His face turned cool, almost accepting. I didn't trust it one bit.
"Fine. I won't stop you, as if I could anyway. Have fun, and be careful. Find a payphone or something and call me here if anything happens." I smiled, and he looked so downtrodden that I had to give him a hug. I mean, hell, he is my brother. He's terribly overprotective, and apparently thinks that me surviving so long without him was just some odd fluke, but I love him. He patted my back and pressed a wet kiss to my cheek. I stuck my tongue out at him. He snickered. "Go get dressed, idiot. And try and be all unattractive, okay? Or as unattractive as you can be." I rolled my eyes and went back to my bedroom. I heard Thomas making a call, but figured it was probably nothing as I threw on a t-shirt and jeans, both of which were only probably clean. Either way, they were good enough, so I grabbed a book and went into the living room, where I dropped onto the couch beside Thomas. He looked at me appraisingly. I sighed.
"What?" I huffed. He pursed his lips.
"Do you have any of my old clothes lying around? They'd fit you a lot worse than those." I glanced down at my shirt, which was two sizes too large, and my jeans, which were hanging on only by virtue of my hips.
"Thomas, if these pants fit any worse they'd fall off, and you know I don't have a belt. What's wrong with these?"
"They're cute on you, in an ill-fitting eccentric slacker sort of way. Mine would look more dirt broke and uncaring, which I think is a lot better look for you, at least when you're going out in public." I stared at him, thought about something to say, and then thought better of talking, because he was having a lot of fun being irrational and dumb, so I didn't want to burst his bubble. I, instead, just ignored him and read for a few hours, until a vaguely impatient sort of knock filled the room with noise. I glanced at the clock and realized that either Marcone was a half an hour early, or it was someone else. I grabbed my blasting rod out of my duster sleeve, and leaned my staff towards my hand before I opened the door, as carefully as I could. It was just Marcone being stupidly early. I felt a tension I hadn't noticed flood out of me and leave me somewhat deflated as I shifted my blasting rod to my other hand and stretched over to place it on my mantle.
"Marcone? Aren't you a little early?" He shifted his shoulders smoothly, looking every bit as polished in jeans and a polo as he did in his multi-billion dollar suits. Life really is unfair. I felt suddenly inadequate standing beside him, but then decided that if I absolutely had to feel inadequate every time I was beside someone better looking than me, I'd pretty much never stop feeling inadequate, so I may as well not bother in the first place.
"Perhaps a bit, but I was in the neighborhood already and assumed you wouldn't mind. If you'd prefer that I come back later, I have no problem in doing so." His voice was perfectly casual, on the surface, but I could feel a sort of dejectedness lurking underneath, like if I told him to get out and come back when it was three o'clock his heart would simply shatter into a million little teensy weensy bits. Which, in the Dialect of Marcone, means he would frown a little harder than he usually would, and possibly shoot things.
"No, it's alright. Just let me grab by duster, and we can go." Mouse suddenly nosed hard at my hip, and sent me sprawling forwards into Marcone. He caught me with almost embarrassing ease, his arms wrapping around my chest, fingers overlapping obviously over the upper part of my spine. A growl that was more vibration than actual sound came from Thomas' direction, as Marcone seemed somewhat unwilling to let me go. Mouse panted happily behind me, for no particular reason other than maybe Marcone was here, and the dumb dog really did like the man for some reason.
"You don't need your duster, Harry. You have my promise of your safety," he said, mostly into the hollow of my throat. I laughed.
"Yeah, from you. Your promise doesn't mean anything to any supernatural whatevers that might want me to not do that silly breathing thing anymore. I'd feel better if I had it, so let me go." He actually gave an annoyed snort that blended rather well with Mouse's whine and Thomas' proud grunt. Maybe they should start a band together. Asshole Squared Plus Mutt. I, of course, would write all of their songs. Marcone finally loosened his grasp and allowed me to throw my duster on and slip my blasting rod back into the sleeve, before he grabbed my hand and dragged me out. Mouse suddenly decided he wanted to sit on Thomas, which seemed to upset Thomas himself, because he was trying to shove the dog off and stand. Marcone walked a little faster than usual to get us to his car, but whatever. I guessed he was just excited for the movie or something.
Marcone's POV
I'd truly have to buy Harry's dog a box of treats, soon. I'd never imagined it'd be so helpful, really, but it was far smarter than the average dog, especially in that it seemed to favor me over the damnable vampire who, apparently, couldn't go twenty minutes without appearing in Harry's house. I tugged Harry along quickly to my car, because while the dog was strong, I was under no illusion that it could hold an angry member of the White Court for any significant length of time. Besides, I enjoyed the feel of my ring on his finger, and holding his hand allowed me to savor that feeling.
Once I got Harry into the car with me, the man I'd had drive me there grew blessedly silent, despite having been taunting me about my 'crush' most of the way to the wizard's apartment. It allowed me to speak quietly with the taller man, without fear of his Blessed Protector jumping down my throat.
"Have you had a pleasant morning?" He snorted.
"Sure, sure. No zombies in my sock drawer or anything. I didn't even find a single ghost in my cereal bowl! It was pretty amazing. Stars, Marcone, since when have you been into small talk?" As I'm sure anyone who has ever met or heard about Harry Dresden knows, he's rather… difficult to deal with. Any social interaction with him is very similar to pulling teeth, and not nearly as productive. Getting a straight answer out of him is like teaching a penguin to fly. I sighed.
"Generally people find that to be a relatively successful conversation starter. Should I allow you to ask me something instead?" He grinned crookedly, with all his teeth.
"Why are you doing all this?" I should have expected as much. That's been nearly all he's asked over the past few days, as if no one could possibly merely enjoy his company and wish to have more of it. I will admit, he's something of an acquired taste, yet now that I've gotten that taste, I'd scarcely be able to go a week without having some interaction with him.
"I've explained all this already, you know. Is it truly so difficult to believe that I enjoy having you around and am attracted to you? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were fishing for compliments." He snorted rather unflatteringly.
"As if, Marcone. I promise I get plenty of compliments. Still, yeah, it's kind of hard to believe that you suddenly have a crush on me after all the years we've spent antagonizing one another." I leaned a bit closer to him and smiled, settling a hand onto his thigh as I had once before. He didn't move it back to my own lap this time, so I counted it as a victory and allowed my smile to become a bit more real. He seemed shocked, for a second, but he covered it quickly. He's a far better liar than people seem to think, or at the very least has an ability to repress things that is so deeply ingrained he can't think to do anything else.
"Yes, and I'm sure you find those compliments almost as genuine as you find mine. Also, you've not ever truly antagonized me. If you had, you wouldn't be breathing right now. You're frustrating, yes, and one of the biggest pains in my ass I've ever dealt with, but you're not an enemy to me. In fact, I rather enjoy our little back and forths." He rolled his eyes, and some tension I hadn't quite registered flooded out of him, allowed him to recline into the seat. Tight muscle loosened beneath my hand, slowly, and my thumb began moving in slow, questing circles. I wanted to kiss him again, but held myself back, as I am most certainly not a hormonal teenage boy with his first girlfriend. I will not be reduced to playing grab ass in the backseat of my own damned car, no matter how nice Harry would look, sprawled out on leather, limbs flung about everywhere. I shook my head a bit and relaxed as well.
"Hey, John, I wanted to ask your opinion on something, actually," he said suddenly, glancing over at me with those dark eyes of his, more open than I'd seen him since the Soul Gaze we'd shared. I had a sudden trouble concentrating, and perhaps I was more of a hormonal teenage boy than I'd thought. I'd been hoping to no longer have to deal with silliness like this after puberty.
"What is it?" I kept my voice perfectly level and composed thanks to years of practice I'll be forever grateful for. I felt the inseam of his jeans brushing the edge of my thumb. He shifted a little.
"There's something I've been working on, for a while now, ever since that case I had a while back where all those women were disappearing. It's called the Paranet. It'd hook together all the low-level practitioners, the ones the Council can't ever seem to bother with. I'm no business man, though, so I've got almost literally no idea about how to go about setting it up, beyond linking Chicago and San Francisco up, and I wouldn't have been able to do that much without Elaine, Carlos, and the Ordo." Business, then. I could do business, especially business like this, things that were easy to deal with.
"You are a Regional Commander, are you not? Meaning you have contacts throughout the east coast?" He shrugged.
"I've got a few. The Wardens stationed in this area of the U.S., but I think Carlos has more than me."
"It's simple, then. Have them inform the low level practitioners in their respective areas with those you've already connected in ever-expanding bubbles, until the country is covered. Beyond that, I'd suggest having a few people in the larger cities across the country with the capability to inform you, or anyone you trust to deal with such problems, whenever something truly does happen. It is a good idea, however. I admire the sentiment." He snickered.
"Thanks. I've always had a soft spot for the lightweights out there, since I came across them so often back in the day. A lot of them are sort of scared of me now, though." How odd. Why in the world would people he seemed so hell bent on protecting be frightened of him? He wasn't truly an intimidating man, before one saw what he could actually do, and those granted his protection generally accepted it wholeheartedly even then. His smile was somewhat bitter.
"The Wardens are a whole new kind of boogeyman to those people. There are horror stories all over the place about Wardens breaking into low level practitioners' houses and stealing things, threatening them, destroying shrines, all that kind of bullshit. Add in the fact that I'm the entire reason why they have to worry about Reds whenever they step outside their front door, and the fact that for a while some people suspected me of being the one kidnapping the women, well, I'm not exactly the pinnacle of wizard-kind right now. Elaine and Carlos have been the ones doing most of the coordinating, because of that," he told me, and actually sounded as if he felt he deserved such a fate, the stupid man. I hummed.
"Who is Carlos, Harry?"
"A friend of mine, the other Regional Commander. He's pretty young, though, only about twenty five, I think. He does damn good work, though. I've never met someone who uses magic quite like him. I might be tempted to copy him, if I wasn't already so set in my ways. Of course, I could always stand to learn something new, and he favors water magic, which I'm absolutely terrible at, for reasons you can probably guess. He'd probably pull some stupid shit about me being an old dog, though." I smirked, and patted his thigh. I could, in fact, perhaps manage to figure out why Harry wouldn't be particularly skilled at things involving water. He'd already proven himself nearly incapable of swimming on numerous occasions. I wondered if all of his allies got to pull him out of rivers, or if I was just special that way.
"Ah. Well, you're not very old, are you? Thirty, perhaps?" He laughed raucously, warmly, like I hardly ever got to hear.
"Are you trying to flatter me or something, Marcone? I'm thirty five. The magic thing just makes me look a little younger, I guess. I'm sure I'll appreciate it more when I hit the hundreds." Oh, yes. I often forgot, sometimes, just how long he was capable of living. It was as impressive as it was depressing, truly. I wondered how he'd even be able to go on, without those friends of his, the ones he'd grown so irrevocably attached to. A traitorous part of my brain reminded me that Thomas would live just as long as Harry, if not longer. I cursed it, and put it away for later. Gard had long been working on something to keep me from death's door. Perhaps not for the same length of time as a wizard, but longer than the average mortal. She'd said my barony would help as well, though, would likely give me at least another thirty years. That was if, of course, I was able to keep it under my command and not allow it to be taken away from me. The car turned sharply into the theatre parking lot and forced Harry's body warmly into my side. All the air left his lungs in a sharp gasp, and his hands wrapped instinctively around my upper arm, whilst my hand shot around his waist with lightning speed. He was annoyingly quick to scramble away, though, clearing his throat the entire time.
It was an odd quirk of his that I'd noticed long ago. He enjoyed physical affection, if it was on his terms. He did not touch nor allow himself to be touched unless he wished to be, which was a large part of the reason why I'd been so worried over the physical affection he allowed the vampire. I could still only give him a smile now, though, as he shot out of the car and towards the theatre door. The driver huffed.
"Good luck with that, Boss." I smiled kindly.
"I'm certain it'll be far more difficult than it seems. It's against that man's religion to be anything but difficult." I followed Harry into the theatre to the sound of my employee laughing.
Harry's POV
Okay. Alright. So, Marcone was being nice to me. Again. Like he had been last night. Yeah. He'd given me advice on the Paranet, he was taking me to a movie, and he apparently enjoyed listening to me being painfully snarky. He had an actual, for real crush on me, for all intents and purposes. Uh huh. I was pretty sure I'd owe Thomas an apology for being right this entire time about there not being some other motive behind all this. Or I was just missing something obvious, which was always a possibility, but I, for some reason, couldn't quite bring myself to believe that in this situation, even if I didn't really know why. Marcone took my hand again, and bought popcorn for me from the one employee he had working, even though I made the machine start being really uncooperative. He even got me a candy bar, and suffered through the five minutes of indecision I had, even as the employee started looking vaguely annoyed with me.
I'd never had anyone who acted so much like an actual couple with me, even my girlfriends. It was weirdly normal. So normal, in fact, that I was almost positive a large hole would rip in the air and some kind of hell beast would fly out from the Nevernever to attack me, because I just don't do normal. Nothing happened, though. Marcone salted the popcorn while I grabbed our drinks, and then led me into theatre number three. The intro to the first Lord of the Rings movie started once we got settled into our seat. I'll admit to giggling this one time.
"Aw, thanks Johnny. How did you know I liked this movie anyway?" He gave a half-smile that could actually be called sweet, if a tiger could smile sweetly.
"You found it 'creepy' not long ago." I smirked.
"That was before I found out Lord of the Rings was at stake."
"Well, I suppose it was something of an inference. I've seen the book in your car before." I snorted, and turned my attention to the movie after I grabbed a large handful of popcorn and shoved it in my mouth. I wondered how I would've reacted six years ago, if I'd been told that I'd eventually be catching a movie with John Marcone.
We were about a fourth of the way through the film when I noticed that oh, hey, there was an arm around me that had been slowly pulling me into Marcone's side. I hadn't realized, obviously. Now, please know that in normal circumstances, I'd have done something about this, but the theatre was a little chilly, and Marcone was, apparently, secretly a furnace. Also, he was comfy, and I was still sleepy. I promise that that's why my head ended up on his shoulder. Any other time, he'd have been blasted clear to California. Yeah. Shut up. Ahem.
He shivered a little as I shifted, my hair brushing against his neck and jaw, his hand rubbing solid circles into my shoulder. The movie, even though it was nearing one of my favorite parts, felt suddenly distant and muzzy. Without thinking, I twisted and kissed his throat, over his pulse. His hand tensed, and something like a hiss slid from his lips. It was only later that I realized he'd said my name. I grunted, and nuzzled where my lips had been. I felt his pulse rocket up, flutter wildly, although from his face, his breathing, you'd never be able to tell. I laughed and went back to the movie. Gradually, his hand loosened, and as there was a lull in the action, I felt his other hand grab at my chin and raise my head. His green eyes were like a jungle in the dim light, flashing and twisting with different shades of green. He leaned forward and kissed me, first softly, then more, and I didn't stop him.
I guess that was the surprising part. I allowed John Marcone to put his lips on mine, and didn't stop it. I, in fact, had instigated it a while earlier with that neck thing. I pressed forward against his mouth, felt him lick at the seam of my lips. I decided to be a dick about it and kept my mouth closed. He growled, and I felt it rumble in his chest more than heard it. I shivered, and realized something suddenly: he'd timed this to match with the kiss between Aragorn and Arwen. I snickered against his lips when I realized it, and he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue into my mouth. I whined, and he seemed to swallow the sound, to drink up any others that may have slipped out. As embarrassing and terrible and shameful as it is, I sort of got lost in the sensation, and hardly noticed when the door opened and light flowed in. Marcone, or John, I guess, since I was suddenly discovering that maybe his unrequited feelings weren't so unrequited (and stones, but Thomas would never let me hear the end of this), slid away and got me back into my seat just in time to have a flashlight shone into my eyes. When they finally adjusted, I saw a head of pixie blonde hair and a set of blue eyes behind the blazing light. Murphy. Huh. I wondered why she was here. If Marcone was using this as a cover to do something illegal, I'd kill him.
"Murphy?" I asked quietly. She gave me a private sort of smile, the one she hardly ever used when we were in public.
"Dresden," she said, nodding once, and then turned the flashlight to John's face. He didn't even flinch. I guess he's had a lot of flashlights shined at him over the years. Or maybe he just has better eyes than me. I do spend a lot of my time in a dank, dark subbasement attempting to read handwritten potion books, and wizards are almost as notorious for their bad handwriting as doctors. "Marcone." John nodded politely.
"Sergeant Murphy. May I ask why you're here? You're interrupting the movie." I could see in her face that she wanted to say something, and she did. She just leaned so close to John to say it that I couldn't hear her. There was something oddly vindictive in her face as she said it, though, while John's eyes went all glittery. I just ignored it.
"We got one of your guys down at the precinct. He's been asking for you." Marcone smiled politely, and I figured this had all of nothing to do with me, so I went back to the movie. I really wanted a dwarven ax. I think I could be a pretty awesome wizard if I had an ax to use. Or maybe Gandalf's staff. It looked pretty cool. I'd probably be accosted as a really good cosplayer even more than I already am, though.
"I applaud you for your creativity, of course, but I'm afraid all of my men know very well to call one of my lawyers should anything untoward happen to them. Now, I must ask that you leave, as I've had this theatre reserved for the day." Murphy smiled with all her teeth and got to look unfairly threatening for someone so small.
"You know, a badge like this one," she said, displaying her shield, "Is actually pretty amazing for getting into places that have been reserved. Much as you hate it, this thing still beats your cash. Now, I think I'm going to stay for the rest of this movie. I like Lord of the Rings." Now that was a bold-faced lie if I ever heard one. Murphy told me all the time what a nerd I was for liking it, and always rolled her eyes whenever I mentioned it, or Star Wars, or Dungeons and Dragons. I figured she was just suspicious of John for some reason or another, although I hadn't heard of anything big going on recently. She plopped down beside John and flicked her flashlight back off. I decided not to bother wondering about it, because it was coming up to another one of my favorite parts.
Only about ten minutes passed before John got a hand back on me, sliding it slowly, carefully, sneakily up my arm, as though we were a teenaged couple whose parents were in the room. It settled delicately on my shoulder, and his deft fingers grabbed a piece of my hair and started fiddling around with it, twining and curling it all around, and tickling my nose. I sneezed. I saw Murphy's blonde head whip around, and heard the sharp sound of skin striking skin. John dropped my hair, a heavy snarl starting to grow from the bottom of his throat, but he cut it off prematurely and just settled his hand on my knee, where he drummed his fingers somewhat impatiently throughout the rest of the movie.
When the projector cut off and the lights turned back on, I saw a stark bruise blooming on his cheek. Had… had Murphy slapped him? I stifled a snort, but I'm pretty sure John knew just what I'd seen, because he glared at Murphy more harshly than I'd ever seen him glare, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out before she could manage to catch my other hand. I saw her begin to make a call just as we got out of the theatre. I didn't say anything until we got back to his car, and in the natural light, I could see just how bad the bruise looked.
"So… any reason you pissed Murph off enough to make her hit you." He almost seemed to pout.
"I didn't do anything, Harry. I'm afraid I'm beginning to wonder if there's any possible way for us to have a pleasant outing without one of your friends interrupting us." I rolled my eyes.
"I'm sure it's just a coincidence, John. Besides, I had fun anyways. I guess maybe we could do it again sometime." I felt my face heat up quickly, and I knew I'd turned totally crimson in seconds. John's eyes went lidded with his lazy smile.
"Really? Perhaps the next time you'd be willing to come to my home. I'm sure we'd be far less likely to get interrupted there." I swallowed harder than I meant to as my mouth went suddenly dry. He shouldn't be allowed to use that vocal tone, okay? It'd have this effect on anybody.
"Uh." I tried, and that was what came out three more times, before words were finally back in my skillset. "Yeah. Um. Yeah. Okay. Sure. When?" He actually laughed.
"I'm afraid I'm busy the rest of this week. Wednesday, perhaps?" I nodded, maybe too quickly. Darn! I might have revealed to John that I secretly have no life when I'm not saving the world and all its inhabitants! Curses! He smirked, and stretched up to kiss my cheek. I'll admit, I blushed again. Yeah, okay, I'm perfectly fine when he's shoving his tongue down my throat, but the cheek! Oh, my maiden's heart is all a flutter! My virtue! Oh, my virtue! Whatever shall my brother think? He had his goon drive us back to my apartment, where he dropped me off. I pecked his lips once, almost too quickly for either of us to feel, and ran off. My door closed on his happy laughter.
I expected to have to deal with Thomas when I got home, but he was suspiciously absent. Mouse panted happily and wagged his tail at me. I gazed at him suspiciously.
"Did you eat my brother while I was gone, Mouse?" He made an uffing noise that was probably loud enough for Mrs. Spunklecrief and the Willoughby's to hear. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. It's nothing but excuses with you." His tongue lolled out in a doggy grin as I filled up his punch bowl, and got a Coke for me and Mister to split.
I didn't see Thomas for a while, and I hold that as the reason why I didn't connect him to what was going on for a while, even though John kept swearing up and down he was involved somehow. It started understandably, though, and I really can't be blamed for not putting together the pieces as quickly as John did.
The date at John's was interrupted by Billy and the other Alphas, who needed me to investigate a few of their friends' apartments for ghosts while I was there, so they called me, and I, of course, left. The next time, a Council meeting came up suddenly, and Ebenezer came to ice skating rink to pick me up. After that, Justine called me to help her free some Little Folk Lara had caught again, despite the fact that I'd been having Toot warn all that he came across not to go to that property. I will admit, the ease with which I managed to get on and off the Raith property should've tipped me off, but still. The next attempt we made at a date was interrupted by Molly running into the tiny, obscure little poetry club we'd gone to, yelling something or another about my lab and an explosion. I, having learned that those two words in the same sentence, at least where Molly was involved, was really, really bad. The smug little smirk she gave John as we were running out, and the fact that when I got home my lab was suspiciously explosion free, were the first tip offs. The final one, though, the one that finally informed me that maybe something was off, was when Michael and Charity appeared at the arcade John had brought me to, one of the only ones in town filled with only classic games, like Pac-Man, which I could play for at least an hour or so at a time without breaking them. Michael and Charity despise videogames. I asked them what they were doing there as John kicked my ass at some old shooting game, which was entirely unsurprising. He'd gotten me enough tickets to buy an awesome little sparkly pen thing that wrote in glow in the dark letters, though, so I guessed I was happy.
"Seeing if this place was appropriate for Daniel," Charity said, not missing a beat. The slightly stricken look on Michael's face told me she was lying. I grinned, slightly. If ever there was a man worse at lying than me, it was Michael.
"Yeah, sure. You guys have all been following me and John around for weeks. What's going on?" I bumped John with my hip so I could get a few cheap points in. He bumped me back and got way more cheap points in, the asshole. Michael sighed, and clapped me on the shoulder, which made me miss about three shots. John laughed quietly as the big, golden WINNER banner popped up on his half of the screen.
"We're worried over you." I saw John's eyes go narrow as he carefully knocked me out of the way.
"I'd truly appreciate it if you all stopped worrying so much. I can look after him quite well." Charity knocked Michael out of the way, and she was wearing her 'mother face', god help us all.
"You are exactly the sort he doesn't need around him!" she said sharply. John barked out a laugh, and raised his chin at Charity. Oh, Hell's Bells. Whenever Charity starts being all mothering, you do not make defiant faces, or she'll start chastising. She will chastise so, so much. She never runs out of air. Ever. The almighty gave her lungs of steel just for that purpose, I'm sure of it.
"Is that so? If you haven't noticed, there have been a significantly smaller number of people attempting to shoot him in the back since I've come around. What is it that you've done, Mrs. Carpenter?" Now, there's a skill he and Charity share. Those two can use Mr. and Mrs. as the harshest insults anyone could conceivably think of. She narrowed her eyes.
"Stitched his wounds when he refused to go to a doctor, given him a bed for the evening when whatever hotel he was holed up in kicked him out, gave him work when he had none, and stopped much of the harassment he was facing upon moving to this city, much of which came from your former employer." Oh, son of a bitch. Why the hell was this coming up now? I gave Charity a look that I hoped would quiet her, but John had been set on a warpath that I knew no one would dare stop.
"Vargassi?" he growled, "Harry, what did Vargassi want with you?" I glared.
"Nothing, Marcone. Drop it. Charity's exaggerating." She turned her gaze to me.
"I most certainly am not, Harry. Apparently his former guardian owed a significant amount of money to that dreadful man, and they came after Harry to get it."
"That McCoy man?" John questioned. I glared harshly at the ground.
"No, DuMorne. He had ties to Vargassi, and got a loan from him that he never paid back. When I moved here, Vargassi remembered my name and came after me for a little while, then he stopped. It was nothing." John's eyes were worried when he next spoke, but I didn't want to deal with any of this right now, in a public place.
"Vargassi did not just stop, Harry. Never." I glared at all three of them and marched out on my own, duster billowing out behind me. I heard Michael saying something or another to Charity about saying something she shouldn't have, and heard John's footsteps behind me, but I ignored them and caught the first cab I saw. I had him drop me off at the park, so that I could walk around for a while and think about how to explain what had gone on back then, when I suddenly got clubbed over the head with what felt very similar to the butt of a pistol. Yes, I do have prior experience. It's just how my life goes. In an amazing instance of deja-vu, I woke up with my wrists and ankles tied in the back of a moving car. Of course.