FicWad

It wasn’t like I meant to do it, okay? It could’ve happened to anyone! No, no, I’m serious this time; it’s not some weird Wizard thing again. Well, okay, it kind of is, but it isn’t really. This isn’t helping is it? Probably not; I have this feeling that I’m just rambling again, but you’d totally understand why, if you knew what had happened. I really, really don’t want to talk about it again. Ever. I just wanted to hide in my basement and not move. At all. Anywhere. At least not until sunrise tomorrow. Yup. That’s normal, right? I’m pretty sure it’s normal. You’re… you’re going to make me explain what happened, aren’t you?

Okay, well, to start off with, if you want to blame somebody, blame Bob. He’s the one who made me make the stupid potion in the first place, you know? He always does stuff like that, makes me make things I don’t want to, as if I’ll ever use them. This one was… okay, so, you know he thinks I need to get laid, right? Well, it was… uh, you know, it was sort of an aphrodisiac. Yeah. A pretty potent one, if I do say so myself. Oh, right, I shouldn’t be bragging about that, should I? Probably not. Ahem. Anyway.

I was planning on staying right down in my lab until sunrise the next day, which would wipe the effects away, and, also, protect me from the wrath of everyone I knew who would maybe probably be just a tiny, tiny bit upset. At least this wasn’t breaking any of the Laws of Magic, so I didn’t have to worry about the whole Queen of Hearts routine the Council seemed to like performing.

I mean, really, the only bad thing about any of it was that I had to listen to Bob, who had not stopped laughing at all since I tripped over some plastic bottle (yeah, that’s good; maybe it’s actually Molly’s fault!) and the purplish potion splattered all over Little Chicago. Literally all over it. I didn’t even know liquid could splatter that much before then. I guess I should just count myself lucky that none of it landed on me. I’m thinking about breaking Bob over Little Chicago and seeing if that fixes anything, though. I mean, if nothing else it’ll shut him up.

Anyway, I was figuring on hopefully no one leaving their house that day to beat me up and otherwise harm my person and my feelings for my little accident (also, wouldn’t this make an absolutely wonderful story? I mean, screw all that epic Merlin adventure shit; the stories should be honest, and the honest truth is we Wizards really aren’t that wise. Mostly we just fuck around for a few hundred years and laugh about it later.), but really, when does anything go my way? No, no, I shouldn’t ever expect that! I’d only been hiding down in my subbasement for about twenty minutes before I heard my phone ringing, and, well, they were already going to be pissed with me. I didn’t think I should make it any worse by, you know, ignoring their calls. So I walked upstairs and answered it. When I found out who was on the other end, I really, really wished I hadn’t.

“Hello?” I asked, honestly nervous and I say I have good reason for that.

“Harry.” It was Michael. Of course it was Michael. Hell’s Bells, someone up there really, really hates me.

“Erm,” I tried, and he sighed.

“I believe you know what I’m calling you about?” I blinked slowly and squirmed even though the effect was lessened by the fact that he couldn’t see me.

“Is everyone in your house attempting to have wild sex?” Silence reigned. Well, not quite silence; the line was still protesting my continued existence with loud cracks and pops, more so probably for the spilled potion, but, um, yeah. It was still disconcerting.

“No. There are simply multiple couples, and some clumps of what appears to be three or more people, copulating on my front yard.” I blinked again. Why wasn’t he affected? I mean, I knew he was a godly kind of guy, and all, but me spilling that on my little model should’ve been the equivalent of me throwing a bottle on every person in the city, and I was pretty sure that no amount of Michael-ness could protect Michael from a direct hit of that. Oh, wait! I’d only spilled it on top of the buildings, not in them, so that had probably offered protection. Cool! Oh. I mean. Disregard that. I’m sorry. I’m deeply, deeply sorry. Yeah. Moving on.

“Yeah, you guys were all inside, so, uh, it probably didn’t affect you. Anyone outside, though… well, you see the effects. Just, keep everyone inside until sunrise tomorrow. And, you know, close your curtains. Molly was inside, right?” He sighed.

“Thankfully. May I ask what happened?” I flinched.

“Potions accident. Bob made me do it.” I assume he would’ve pointed out the fact that it’s really hard for something somebody made you do to be considered an accident, but I didn’t let him. “Again, just, stay inside until sunrise tomorrow and it’ll all be good. Beyond possibly some property damage, depending on how insane people get. Bye.” And then I hung up. I’m very brave, and noble, if you couldn’t tell.

So, after that cornerstone of awkwardness and self-loathing, I was going to go bury myself alive in my basement, possibly underneath the concrete instead of just some blankets, but that, obviously, didn’t work out. See, someone was hammering at my door. Really, really insistently. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, should I? I don’t think so. I opened it carefully and warily, really seriously considering getting one of those cool things you see in kids’ spy movies, where, like, you could pull down the little view thing and see who was outside. Or just a peephole. Of course, someone would probably manage to shoot me through it, so never mind.

I didn’t exactly have reason to be afraid of who was on the other side anyway, at least not in the traditional sense. I mean, yeah, Murphy will threaten to kill me on a regular basis, but she’d never actually do it. I’m not worth the prison time. I did sort of have to worry about her really, really hurting me, though. Especially since Kincaid was as attached to her as a very determined leech. And by determined I mean he didn’t even react when Murphy kicked him in the balls. Twice. I stared.

“Dresden!” she finally barked, and I finally managed to get over my shock enough to try to separate them. It worked, just not, you know, in the way I was hoping. See, he was off Murphy, yeah, or half of him was, but the other half was attached to me.

“This why you were dragging me all the way here? Wanted to bring this pretty piece into the mix? That’s alright.” I wriggled and jerked, and Murphy growled.

“You want to explain why I’ve had this fucking mercenary trying to hump my leg the whole way here, Dresden? Or maybe why he’s trying to hump your leg now?” I blubbered. I’ll admit it. I blubbered. Pathetically. Like, big watery eyes and everything. I really didn’t want to explain this again. I wondered how quickly she’d kill me after I explained. I hoped it’d at least be fast.

“It’s not my fault!” I yelled, carefully avoiding Kincaid’s hand, which was straying dangerously closely to my ass, and his mouth, which was rather noticeably attempting to make contact with my neck. “Bob’s an asshole! And Molly left shit cluttering my floor! And everyone knows I’m clumsy, so why would they do that, huh? The universe is conspiring against me and it is totally not my fault!” Murphy looked… not at all impressed by that. I didn’t blame her; I wasn’t exactly impressed either. And Kincaid just didn’t seem to care because he had apparently decided that he had two asses that were far more worthy of his attention, and he’d finally stopped trying to get me to stop dancing on his foot.

“Quit squirming,” he grumbled, his face now in Murphy’s hair, and he jerked my hard once to send me stumbling into the both of them. Also, P.S., he might like his guns more than his muscles, but that definitely doesn’t mean he’s a slouch in the exercise department. Why is it that I’m surrounded with buff men? It doesn’t seem fair, somehow. Is it just another way that someone out there has found to laugh at me? Probably. Anyway.

He had a hand at my hip, squeezing gently, then releasing, then squeezing again in some kind of weird, cyclic massage. I hooked my leg around the back of his knee and pulled it hard, the movement probably hurting me just as much as it hurt him, but it threw him off balance enough that I was able to wiggle loose. Murphy proceeded to elbow him in the jaw and dance away from his suddenly grasping hands as he lost the both of us. He crossed his arms and glared at us, shifting his weight from foot to foot, obviously thinking of the best strategy to renew his grip on us, but to be honest, I already knew that wasn’t happening. The look on Murphy’s face told me so.

“Where’s Ivy?” I finally decided to ask him as he swayed, and this surprised look shot across his face before he laughed.

“You were worried about her? Why didn’t you say so, Dresden? She never left the hotel room today, kept her all nice and secure, wards on the door and everything. She’s safe. Now, come here, and bring Karrin with you.” I only forzare’d him a little, I promise. Not even enough to break a rib. Just, you know, enough to propel him out of my house. And maybe a little more, so he’d be far enough away that I could shut my door before he ran back inside. After that, it was pretty much just a matter of pulling the wards back up with Murphy giving me a very particular brand of murderous gaze that really had me worried about all the blunt objects in my apartment.

“So,” I tried, bouncing on the balls of my feet, and Murphy just crossed her arms.

“Dresden. Explain, in detail, exactly what happened and how you plan on fixing it.” I flushed, I know I did, the red staining my cheeks and probably drifting down to my neck too.

“Bob, um… alright, so I was making a potion, okay? Totally innocuous, just a little pick-me-up that I could keep for a rainy day. Except I didn’t remember how to do it, and there’s no new romance novels out that Bob wants, so he made me make an aphrodisiac before he told me how to do it, and I would’ve just put it under the desk with all the others he’s made me make, but as I was bottling it, I tripped on a bottle Molly must’ve dropped on the floor the last time she came here and I spilled it on little Chicago, so anyone who happened to be outside when I did that… well, basically it’s having the same effect on them as if I’d just thrown the bottle on them directly. It’ll be done by sunrise, though.” She stared at me.

“Every time I think you’re anything close to normal, Dresden, you manage to surprise me with how spectacularly fucking stupid you are. How the hell have you managed to live this long? You’re like a meerkat. Or, better yet, you’re a moth who perpetually finds every bug zapper on the face of the planet and decides to poke it for a while.” You know what’s sad? When someone tells you something like that and you can’t even defend yourself because, actually, it’s pretty true. Don’t ever be like me, kids.

“I… honestly, you’re right. I’m not even going to bother arguing.” She snorted.

“So, what, you can’t do anything about this?”

“Well, I could try, but anything I could do would be sort of worthless, since it would take me way longer than until sunrise tomorrow to get it ready. For once, I think it’s better if I just leave it alone and let it run its course. So, yeah, unless you want to try your luck out there again, you’re stuck in here with me until then.” She stared at me again, or, more accurately, she hadn’t stopped yet. “I’m sorry?” I tried again, and she laughed.

“It’s really hard to be mad at you for shit like this, you know that, right? You’re too earnest.” I blinked.

“So you’re not going to beat me up?”

“Not in your own house, no. I’ll get plenty of that at aikido training this weekend.” Oh. That… I was pretty sure she wasn’t actually doing me any favors with that. I didn’t want to piss her off again, or anymore, though, so I didn’t mention it.

“Thanks? So, are you hungry or anything? We’re kind of going to be here for a while.” She rolled her eyes, a half smile tilting her lips, and nodded.

“Yeah, why not? A TV dinner sounds as good as anything.” I might’ve pouted, but only a little.

“I was planning on cooking, actually. I have real food in the house, so I was going to make use of it.” Surprise flitted behind her blue eyes for a quick moment but she tucked it away quickly. She always did; she prided herself on being unflappable even in the face of me, of my magic, and in all that I did. I thought it was kind of funny that something as simple as me not surviving on frozen food could garner even that much of a reaction from her, though. She finally just shook her head.

“As long as you don’t poison me.” I grinned and wandered into my kitchen, noting how low the food and water bowls for my critters had gotten and filling them thoughtlessly before I got the woodstove burning and pulled a bunch of random crap out of my icebox, not really even looking to see what it was before I got it on the counter. Although, it was all in new, clean packaging, inside which nothing looked pre-cooked, so I figured it was what I’d been after, or close enough that it didn’t matter. I drifted around and felt her watching me, but I wasn’t really aware of it. I never was, doing something menial like this; I got lost in it, in the sensation of normalcy and familiarity, and everything else fell far, far away. This was probably the only thing that made me wish I had more money, so I could keep fresh food in the apartment and feel like this more often.

Someone started banging on my door as soon as I got everything prepped and on the stove, though, and that obviously broke me from my trance.

“Watch that food, Murph,” I said, sweeping out of the kitchen and to the door, and she narrowed her eyes at me. I didn’t exactly care if I’d offended her just then, though; I usually didn’t when something even remotely dangerous was happening, and this was, despite the humor of it, dangerous. I had no idea how that potion would react with the more magical elements in Chicago, and if one of them came after me hopped up on it… I didn’t want her to get hurt for me. Kincaid, I knew he wouldn’t actually do anything. He was an asshole, but not that particular kind; see, he’d seduce as hard as he could, yeah, because the potion did lower inhibitions, but it didn’t change natures. Some other things that wandered around Chicago, though? I didn’t trust their nature like I trusted his. I opened the door slowly, cautiously, and found Thomas on the other side. I relaxed just a little, and yes, in hindsight, I do realize that that was actually really, really stupid of me.

This wasn’t the stupid mistake that actually did me in, though, because he obviously wasn’t affected by the potion, considering he had this really, really impressive chain of people following him and he wasn’t doing anything to them.

“Harry, help,” he said, and I stepped aside to let him in and slammed it shut seconds before my house would’ve been swarmed with a lot of really excited people who apparently loved my brother rather a lot. They beat against the door for a few minutes before it fell suspiciously silent, Thomas beside me clutching at his chest and breathing heavily, his skin a touch too pale and his eyes swirling. I realized then that he’d probably been having to fight not to do anything, with the lust battering him like that. Murphy glanced at us suspiciously where she stood by the stove, but I shook my head.

“You good, Thomas? Is there anything you need?”

“Yeah. Stay over there for a while. Both of you. Whatever’s going on with those people outside, I’m not affected by that, but the feelings… give me a second to get it under control.” I waited a little and finally he nodded, so I stepped over to him and led him to the couch. “Empty Night, what’s going on, anyway? I just walked out of my apartment to go open the salon and suddenly I was being swarmed. I figured you had something to do with it, and that you could help me, so I ran straight here.” I was not explaining this again. No. It was bad enough the first two times. I am simply not doing it again. Ever.

“Potions accident. Let’s leave it at that. It’ll be over by sunrise, so you can stay here with me and Murphy until then.” He grinned, the look of it vulpine on his face.

“Sure I won’t be intruding?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes and shoved him.

“Shut up, asshole. I’m cooking, you want anything?”

“If you’ve got extra.” I snorted and took my place in front of the stove back, and no one spoke until I finished with the meal. Murphy, I could see, was a little leery of Thomas still. She always had been, really, even after she found out what was going on with us. Then, she was leery of most people that weren’t me or Michael, or a few of the people she worked with in SI. It was understandable, with some of the stuff she’d seen and lived through. Still, the silence was grating at me, so I got the plates together and the food on them quick-like, then carried them back into the living room where I sat between them on the couch to play mediator.

Murphy took a bite of the meal on her plate and I got that surprised look from her again, while Thomas, who had eaten my food while living with me, just ate without comment like I did.

“It’s good,” she said, like that was the biggest surprise of the century, and I was maybe a little offended. I mean, who wouldn’t be? It wasn’t like I was that incompetent.

“Wow, thanks, Murph.” She sighed and shook her head.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Dresden.” I laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks; I’m glad that my years of practice have paid off.” She elbowed me, which caused me to elbow Thomas, so we all had a small elbow war. And, yes, I promise we’re not secretly six years old. That’d be really irresponsible, letting three six year olds live on their own in Chicago. We’re at least ten.

Eventually, though, after we finished the food, simple silence and childishness wasn’t doing it for Thomas anymore.

“Are you sure you won’t explain what happened?” he finally said, and I glared at the floor. It was, after all, partially the floor’s fault, for supporting the stupid bottle that had tripped me so mercilessly. I stayed resolutely, stonily silent, and Murphy finally decided to speak up for me.

“Our resident klutzy wizard somehow managed to spill an aphrodisiac that his magical talking skull made him make all over his magical model of Chicago, and so everyone who was outdoors suddenly wants to bang anything they see. Apparently.” And even she didn’t sound angry anymore, but rather bemused, like, wow, only you, Harry, only you. Which, I will admit, is probably true. Or, at least, I’m the only wizard on the planet who’d actually be willing to admit to something quite this moronic. Thomas stared at me for a minute as if processing this new information, but then he was laughing even harder than Bob had. I was actually worrying that his lungs would explode while I attempted to combust myself with the force of my blushing.

“Aw, look at him! He’s so embarrassed! Isn’t it adorable?” Thomas asked through his laughter, and I was seriously afraid that he was going to start pinching my cheeks because yeah, he has done that before, the asshole. I squirmed where I sat, and Murphy was laughing too, then, and eventually I couldn’t help it either because sometimes all the ridiculous, madcap aspects of my life are pretty damn funny. At least when they’re not about to kill me. And sometimes when they are. That thought made me laugh harder and we were all leaning against each other as we did it, a pile of helpless joy on my comfy couch, and maybe this particular screw up wasn’t so bad after all. We were only just settling down again when I got another frantic knock and stood, figuring it was probably the Alphas, or Butters, or someone else who wanted to know why everyone was having a massive orgy in the streets, and I was ready to explain everything with a grin, a shrug, and an oopsy-daisy, but that didn’t exactly work out too well because oh, hey, I was on the floor. And someone was on top of me. I… probably needed to deal with that. Yeah. Ahem.

So, yeah, about that someone. I couldn’t tell who it was right away because they’d gotten me onto the floor pretty fast and my vision swam with the sudden fall. I could tell that it was a man, though, from the weight of him and from the fact that something decidedly male was pressing into my hip bone, and when I put my hands on his shoulders to try and roll whoever it was off of me, I felt hard, tight muscle and broadness, which, again, was a pretty masculine feature. I managed to dislodge whoever it was only slightly, but that was enough for me to wiggle out from under him and back to my feet and damn it, my door was still open. I lurched over to it to push it shut because a crowd was drawing (which was decidedly bad) and then decided that I was never opening my door again and I was definitely going to have to fix my wards because, whoever this was, they shouldn’t have been able to get in here. And then I got slammed into my own door and most of my thoughts went out the window because mystery shoulder man was kissing me. Yeah, no. I pushed him away again and was finally able to see who it was. I almost wished I hadn’t, though, because this was a face I recognized, and that I recognized too well.

Marcone. Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Chicago’s resident kingpin and criminal overlord scumbag. In my house. Tackling me. And kissing me. I was never making another potion again. I stepped back a little, towards my couch where Thomas and Murphy were finally standing to help me as they realized what was going on, and Marcone stalked towards me slowly, his chest heaving, his eyes screaming “predator”.

This was what I’d seen his soul, the tiger fully bared and flashing teeth. I kept walking backwards, and I’ll tell you now that it’s hard to make a guy with my size and my power feel like prey, but he was managing it pretty well, especially when I stumbled on a wrinkle in a rug and had to pinwheel my arms to catch myself. He locked onto the moment of weakness like he was built to do it and jumped at me again, his arms going tight around my waist to pull me against him. I yelped and squirmed, wondering why this was bothering me so much more than when Kincaid had done it. I guess it was because with Kincaid, I sort of expected it; he’d sleep with anything. Marcone, though… I’d always figured he’d have better taste. Distantly, I heard Murphy and Thomas sharing quick, muffled curses as they came at us and Thomas yanked Marcone off while Murphy yanked me away.

“Fuck,” Marcone snarled, arching and twisting in Thomas’ grasp but held fast because hey, Thomas might look like a pretty boy, but he’s got vampire strength underneath his annoying model façade. Also, I was pretty sure that was the first time I’d ever heard Marcone swear. It was sort of surreal. I hold that as the reason why I was all wide eyed where Murphy had me held by the wrist a few feet away, across the apartment.

“What the hell, Marcone?” I finally asked, watching as he somehow got enough leverage to land a pretty solid looking kick to the front of Thomas’ leg. Anyone else probably would’ve been forced to let him go at that, but Thomas only gripped him tighter.

“Hold still,” Thomas snarled, and Marcone jerked again before he lapsed into a long diatribe of words in a language I could in no way understand but that sounded, somehow, absolutely filthy. I had no doubt that Thomas had just been called some very insulting things in Italian and could only stare as it happened. Since when did Marcone speak Italian? Uh… that’s… now that I’ve asked that, it sounds like a really stupid question. Forget I said anything. Anyway. So, Marcone kept struggling, I kept staring, and nothing made any more sense than it had five minutes before when all this started.

Plus, at that point, I was kind of wondering where Gard and Hendricks were. They were attached to him at the hip, and his office was in no way near my house, yet here he was, all alone. Had they been surgically separated without me hearing about it, somehow? I thought about it for a minute longer before I had a sudden, and frankly horrifying realization.

Hendricks liked Gard. Gard, from the few instances I’d seen her, liked Hendricks. I’d spilled an aphrodisiac that had obviously affected Marcone, and since his bodyguards were always with him, I’d affected them too. And they liked each other. Please remind me to never think about what this probably means ever, ever again. It’s way too terrifying. I might’ve even shuddered a little. Anyhow. Marcone was talking again, and also being a wiggly son of a bitch, so I figured I needed to deal with that again.

“Shit, Harry, when I get loose, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to make you scream for me; I always imagine that you’re loud, in bed. Desperate, skin hungry. I’ve heard stories before, about a wizard’s truly… amazing stamina, but I’d keep at you until you couldn’t feel anything else, until my name was the only thing that could pass your lips. I’d kiss you until I knew every inch of you, until you knew me in the same way. You wouldn’t be able to move when I was through with you. You’d blow out the whole damn neighborhood when I made you lose your control over all that magic.” He strained harder against Thomas’ hold as he riled himself into something like a frenzy, his green eyes wide and vibrant like I’d never seen them. He looked… younger, like that, younger than he should have despite the dignified lines around his mouth and his eyes.

Thomas looked absolutely disgusted, at that point, and finally just slapped his hand over Marcone’s mouth to make him fall silent, although the anger in his eyes told me that he was pretty close to biting the other man. Of course, Thomas also looked angry, and I in no way wanted to see those two predators start snapping at each other in my living room, so I figured I needed to intervene again. Especially considering Murphy looked basically broken where she stood beside me. I sighed. No way in hell could I just throw him out, though; he was too… well, I didn’t trust him, like this, with no inhibition. I’d need to keep him here to keep him and everyone else safe. I had my unicorn hair rope in my drawer still, didn’t I? I was pretty sure I did.

So, I walked over to the drawer, did indeed found the rope where I’d left it (which had to have been a first; usually I never find something exactly where I left it. I say the brownies move stuff when they clean), and quickly got Marcone bound tightly with it. He stared at me while I did this, not really struggling but putting his hands on me and making it hard to tie him because I had to dance around the wandering fingers. Still yet, I did eventually get it done. I nodded, very proud of myself for no particular reason, and had Thomas help me prop him up in the corner like the world’s most murderous decoration.

“Not to say I’m not into this, honey, but I’ve got to say I’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable on a bed,” he told me, and I didn’t grace that with a response. Jeez, why had Marcone, of all people, had to be outside? And, better yet, why had he come here anyway? It wasn’t like he had any shortage of options for… relieving his tensions. Hell, half the city would probably sleep with him if he asked nicely enough. Or, you know, looked in their general direction and smiled like he meant it. What? It’s not like I’ve ever called him ugly. Maybe not as pretty as Thomas, but handsome in a dignified kind of way. Well, I mean, usually. Right now he was handsome in a dangerous kind of way, dignity thrown out the window. I walked back to the couch and flopped down on it, heaving a heavy, thick sigh.

“So,” Thomas said, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“So what?”

“So, why are you leaving that in your house? Shouldn’t you throw it out?” It took me a couple of seconds to figure out that “it” was Marcone.

“I don’t exactly want to loose him on the general populace like… well, like that. Look at him! He’s dangerous.”

“And you think he’s safer in the house with you, after he just promised to fuck you if he got half a chance?”

“He can’t get out of the ropes, and he’ll be good by morning.” Thomas sighed as if he didn’t believe me, but then just kind of gave in. It wasn’t quiet for long before Marcone was talking again. Apparently he really, really liked talking.

“So pretty,” he murmured, “Christ, wanted you since that first day. You’ve had me damn near begging and you act like you don’t even notice, like you can’t see what I want from you. No one’s that oblivious, honey, and I don’t like being fucking teased. Most people, I wouldn’t stand for it this damn long. Of course, you’re not most people, are you? You never have been, and maybe that’s what I like about you. You’re not scared of me. You don’t do what I want just because I want it. It’s… refreshing, I must say. I like you. I don’t like most people I want to fuck. So fucking special, but you’re such a goddamn tease.” What? I don’t… what? I understood all those words he was saying individually, yeah, but they didn’t make much sense put together and applied to me, of all people. I was pretty sure no one had ever called me a tease before. And what the hell did he mean I acted like I didn’t notice? Didn’t notice what? Hell’s Bells, I’m lost, and he’s the insane one right now. This has to be a new low for wizards everywhere. I’m sorry. He laughed suddenly, his eyes going a little wide.

“Really? You really don’t get it? How sweet. Still a tease, but sweet. Shall I spell it out for you, sweetheart? The moment I got you in my car, the first time you mouthed off to me, I wanted to give you something better to do with that mouth. I’ve wanted to every damn time you’ve mouthed off to me since. I’ve wanted to teach you manners,” he said, almost hissing by then, voice low and thick. I squirmed. It wasn’t like he was the first person who’d ever suggested something like that in regards to me (although I did have to say that most of the others were decidedly non-human and saying it mostly just because I pissed them off, not because they actually wanted to) but it still made me… uncomfortable, I guess is the best word. Confused too. He’d never given any indication.

“Shut the hell up, Marcone,” Thomas called over to him, and Marcone snorted.

“You might have some control over what I do, Mr. Raith, but what I say and what I think are none of your concern.” Why would Thomas have control over what he did? That didn’t make sense either; basically none of this did, at this point.

“You think I can’t fix that, Johnny? If I wanted, you’d never even think about sex again.”

“You won’t; you’ve too much invested in not being a ‘monster’ to give yourself that particular pleasure. You can keep him in your bed, Raith, but you can’t keep the thought of him out of another’s.” Whoa, no. No, no, no.

“Thomas and I aren’t… like that,” I said, and Thomas glared at me. What, he wanted to play up the act with Marcone? That was just dumb. Marcone grinned.

“Really? Wonderful. It doesn’t have to be just talk, then, does it? I can take action, hm? And you can’t stop me. Oh, that is just perfect, isn’t it?” He chuckled quietly. “So, Harry love, shall I continue? I left off at manners, didn’t I? I’d teach you to speak to me with respect, call me Mr. Marcone or not speak, tell me what you want or be left with nothing until you beg for it, for me. So damn proud, I want to see you human, and touchable. I want to make you admit that you need things from others, that you need help, that you aren’t some kind of superman.” Slowly his voice fell into the husk again, and Thomas continued to glare at me. Murphy still looked like everything she knew had just been revealed to be a lie. I was kind of feeling that way too. I kind of saw why Thomas had wanted to play our relationship that way with him, now. Maybe I should listen to him more often. Anyway.

“Shut up, Marcone,” I grumbled, and besides, it wasn’t like I’d ever do any of that stuff anyway. He talked like he wanted me to act like… I don’t know, one of the Executive Priority girls.

“I’d rather not. The better question is, why do you want me to? If you truly didn’t care, or if none of this sounded in any way feasible, you wouldn’t care. You’d allow me to talk to my heart’s content. But this is making you uncomfortable. Hitting too close to home, am I? Let’s see if we can hit closer. I want to see you walk around in nothing but what I’ve bought you, my cologne soaked into the fabric and the smell of my shampoo in your hair, my soap on your skin, carrying my bite high on your throat where everyone can see. Anyone who touched you would know they were touching what was mine, and if they’ve any idea what’s good for them, they’ll stop, they’ll run. I want to keep you, but I know I never could, and so, failing that, I want to be always with you. I want to follow you into battle and then I want to take you home with me. I want you to never be alone, to always have a shoulder when you need it. I want to be the one who gets to kiss you.” Close to home didn’t cover the half of it. It was like he’d gotten the intimacy tour of my soul way back when, like he’d seen everything in there that I could ever possibly want from another person.

“So,” I tried, clearing my throat and turning to face Thomas, “the weather’s been great lately, huh?” He stared at me. Murphy did too, but Murphy was broken anyway. Had I just finished breaking Thomas? Crap.

“Harry,” he finally said. Good; still not broken. I wasn’t done with him yet. And I’d have to get Murphy fixed. “Marcone is over there saying all the things that would normally be a pathway directly to your wizardly little heart, and now you want to talk to me about the nice weather we’ve been having? Seriously? I think instead we should address the fact that this is coming as a shock to you somehow, which can’t be good, because when something surprises me, you start thinking about it, and you in no way need to think about any of this, ever.” I blinked at him.

“Why would this not come as a surprise to me?” That, apparently, brought Murphy’s brain back online because she hit me really hard on the shoulder. I was pretty sure I’d have an itty-bitty fist-shaped bruise the next day.

“Because he’s been flirting with you since you met him! And the bad part is, you flirt back! That’s probably why he thought you knew, you incredible moron. That and the fact that everybody knows Marcone swings both ways, and there’s been an influx of people from the same team hanging around his house, most of them suspiciously tall with big brown eyes.”

“Everybody, Ms. Murphy? I wouldn’t say that; the society pages haven’t mentioned it, although I suppose that could be out of fear. And you’ve forgotten the hair, by the way; they all have that haircut, or lack thereof. I rather like his hair. Good length to pull; dangerous in a fight, perhaps, but good for my purposes.” Murphy nodded distractedly and I wondered, vaguely, if she’d been drinking. Thomas looked like he was wondering exactly the same thing. I cleared my throat.

“Shut up, Marcone,” I tried again, like I thought it would work this time. His eyes flashed with amusement, and when he next spoke his voice was something close to a sing-song, at least probably as closet to that as it ever got.

“No.”

And that was when Thomas and Murphy just gave me this terribly frustrated look and stood up, apparently planning on leaving me there, and trailed towards my room. I gaped at them.

“What? Where are you going? Don’t leave me alone in here with him!” Yeah, okay, my voice might’ve squeaked. But just a little, not a lot. Tiny, tiny bit. Shut up. Jeez. You act like you’ve never sounded like a pathetic teenager who’s scared but won’t admit it. Except for I don’t know why I sounded like that because I was totally not scared of anything.

“You’re being stupid. These copious amounts of stupid are giving me a headache, and it’s getting dark. I’m going to bed. Raith, I guess, is coming to take a nap in the bathtub,” Murphy said, rolling her eyes vaguely in my direction, then opened my door and went inside.

“As for me, he’s throwing off too much emotion all hyped up on that. It’s basically as bad as it was with that chain of people behind me, the bastard’s so willful. I’m weakened already from dealing with that all morning, and I really can’t stay in here with him like that unless you want me to accidentally eat him or something, and I really, really don’t want to do that. I don’t like Italian food. Anyway, just, you know, yell really loudly if he manages to get the ropes off.” And then he was gone too. Great. I was lone with Mr. Chatterbox and oh Hell’s Bells he was standing up, what do I do, what do I do?

He walked towards me slowly, carefully, doing his damndest the whole way to look like he wasn’t tied and unsteady, and doing a weirdly good job of pulling off the illusion. When he reached me, he sat just as carefully as he’d walked beside me, eyes burning with unnatural green flame.

“What are you doing?” I asked, understandably wary, and he just gave this annoyingly urbane smile and shrugged vaguely.

“What can I do, Mr. Dresden? You’ve got me tied very thoroughly, and though I’ve admittedly made the attempt, my knife won’t cut this.” Of course he had a knife with him. Why hadn’t I checked? Because I’m stupid, that’s why. Anyhow.

“Well, obviously you can still talk,” I grumbled, and he laughed.

“And I intend to do so,” he replied, and had he not been talking about the particular subject he’d been fixated on since his arrival on my doorstep, I wouldn’t have even thought he was affected. He sounded too normal, too like he always did, except now he’d decided that sleeping with me sounded super neat.

“I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“I’ll stop when you admit you’ve considered it,” he began, as if giving me an opportunity to concede as much, but no way in hell was I doing that, even if I had thought about it, a little.

And who wouldn’t consider it, honestly? He was a scumbag, yeah, but he was a scumbag with a great smile and charm to spare. And nice eyes. And he was sure as hell funny, when you were watching him verbally eviscerate somebody, or when he was in a good, playful mood. And he was a good man, in his own way, or at least he had a moral code that you could be sure he’d stick to through hell or high water. What was I talking about again? I forget. Whatever.

“You really are so beautiful,” he murmured, “inside and out. Smart, courageous, insane. Fascinating, too, so fascinating. The first day we met, you stared me down as if I were nothing, the most mundane man you’ve ever met. No one has ever looked at me like that before, Harry, and no one has since. I wanted you then, but no matter what I offered, you wouldn’t take it. I suppose part of the charm was that I never expected you to; you wouldn’t be yourself if you had. Still yet, I saw something worth keeping in your soul, Harry Dresden, and I won’t give in until you’re mine.”

“Never going to happen,” I murmured, thoughtless, knee jerk.

“Oh? Are you sure about that, darling? I’m afraid I’m not convinced. I think you want this, want me. I think you want to be mind, and I think you want everyone to know. I think, once I trip you into my bed the first time, you’ll be much more willing to consider listening to my ideas, to consider bending over my desk for me, giving me the smile you give to those you love,” he said, and I could hear in his voice that he was working himself into another frenzy.

“Stones, Marcone,” I mumbled, squirming again and hoping he’d calm down again.

“Christ, Dresden, you’ve got no idea how much I want that, you on my desk for me, or even under it, I suppose. You’d be so gorgeous, flushed pink for me, knowing that someone, anyone could walk in, maybe even the fucking mayor. Maybe I’d even set a meeting, make damn sure someone saw because I’d want everyone to know that I was the one who made Harry Dresden fall for me. Damn it, Harry, do you even understand what you do to me? I haven’t acted like this since I was working under Vargassi, and fucking look at me. Harry, I love you, damn it, I love you,” he said, something frantic in his eyes, his body shifting where he sat, and I couldn’t help it; I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. His eyes clenched shut and he bared his teeth at me for a moment before he relaxed and leaned closer to me.

“Marcone?” I asked, and he chuckled, the sound low and harsh in his throat, like he was losing his voice. Silence reigned for a couple of seconds after that, and he was shaking. John Marcone did not shake.

“Please, Harry. I won’t touch you. Just let me talk, please. Everything, all the things I’ve dreamt about. Let me talk, alright? I will not mention this again, please,” he said, and I was frozen. This couldn’t be Marcone, John, not the man I knew. The visual was making my heart tighten and twist in my chest, I don’t know why, I just… I felt bad. Really, really bad. And was it really such a big deal to sit here and listen to him run his mouth off? It was just a side-effect of the potion anyway.

“You’re going to be so embarrassed by this in the morning.” He nodded, his eyes still lidded, and leaned back to the other side of the couch.

“Probably, yes, although not for the reasons you’re thinking. Shall I begin, Harry?” Like it was a fucking meeting or something.

“Whenever you want,” I said, settling into my corner of the couch, even pulling the blanket from the back of it and draping it over me, since the late evening chill was rapidly settling into my subterranean den. A funny smile tilted his lips just slightly and he shook his head as he rested against the couch’s arm.

“The first dream I ever had about you, I had the night we met. It was nothing like what I’ve been telling you today, nothing close; more, it was a memory, I think, of what I’d seen in your soul. Red, there was red everywhere, soft and warm, felt like velvet. You were tangled in it, and you looked so sad, and I don’t think you could move. I don’t know why I went towards you; I didn’t love you then. I did, though, I went towards you and undid the knots binding you. It fell away, faded into white patched with gray. You were so happy then, smiling so brightly, and you held my hand. You kissed me then, a soft, innocent, schoolyard kiss, as if you’d never done it before. I jolted awake there, surprised, perhaps a bit afraid. I thought you’d done something to me then, put those thoughts in my head, but you hadn’t. You never even knew.” He sighed, there, and I blinked.

“That’s what you saw in my soul? Me tangled in something red? That’s it?” He tilted his head and smiled.

“Yes? Have I disappointed you? Has everyone else seen something more climactic? A fireball perhaps?” I snorted.

“Nah. Just… it’s usually not so flattering.” Curiosity painted his face, weirdly stark when compared to his usual mastery of being entirely expressionless. “Susan fainted, when she looked. Thomas gave me this really weird stare, but he was polite enough not to mention anything, at least. My… DuMorne, well. He was pleased, but that wasn’t exactly a good thing.” He didn’t question that, hardly even reacted, really.

“Perhaps I just have better taste, sweet. Can I assume from that that I’m only one of four you’ve Soul Gazed?” I rolled my eyes because of course that’s all he got from that.

“Five,” I answered, because Elaine had been… she’d been the only one who hadn’t reacted, next to Marcone, the only one who hadn’t really seemed either bothered or too pleased by whatever she saw. That had meant a lot, back then. Maybe it still did, I didn’t know. It’d been too long since I’d last seen her. Marcone took in my probably vacant expression and raised his head haughtily, or as haughtily as he could with his hands tied behind his back, ropes pinning his arms to his sides.

“An honor nonetheless,” he said, then cleared his throat just so. “The dreams after that weren’t so innocent, perhaps because I’d grown to know you far better upon the arrival of the second. I’d begun to realize that perhaps my first dream was more an omen than anything, a hint as to how I’d one day feel. It happened perhaps a week after the werewolf incident, and before I’d gone to bed, I was reminiscing on how close I’d gotten barely more than a week before, how close to getting you to sign my contract, when you were being kept by the Street Wolves. It made me sick, that I’d fallen for your little trick, that I’d actually believed you even though I should’ve known better, should’ve taken more precautions to be certain you’d really sign. So, in the dream, you came to me for help, you see, into my home, your head bowed. Your cheek was cut; you’d been fighting, maybe hurt, but not badly. You said you needed me and my people. I asked you what I’d get for my hand and you told me anything.” I snorted.

“Not much basis in reality huh, Johnny? I don’t offer anybody ‘anything’.” He got that funny smile again, and it was really starting to piss me off.

“That’s why they call them dreams, Harry, now let me finish. You promised me that. I agreed to help you on the basis that you wouldn’t ask what I wanted in return until all was said and done. I hadn’t wanted you to get hurt more, you see, because you’d refused my offer on principle, so I thought that would be better. I suppose I dreamed you terrified because you agreed like lightning. I don’t recall much of the actual fight, except that the beast was made of shadows. You went home with me after that, and I pressed you to your knees. You were confused, but not for long. You caught on quickly, too quickly, but it was only a dream and I didn’t care. I dreamt of everything that night, everything I could do with you, because I hadn’t had time to decide the basics of what I wanted then, only that I wanted.” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re a much bigger idiot than people give you credit for.” He nodded and the fact that he agreed really did shock me.

“I know. I stopped keeping track of the dreams after that because it seems I began to simply reprise favorites and have them over and over, too often. You fresh off a fight and me pissed with you for going off on your own and getting yourself hurt. You’d be weak, no magic left to speak of, but you’d still have that sharp tongue of yours. Maybe you’d have caught me on a bad night when I wasn’t fit to come back at you with more of the same, I’d get angrier, grab you hard and prove why you should take physical strength more seriously than you do, bend you over that stupid little car and hold you there until you squirmed. You’d ask me what the hell I thought I was doing and then I’d move just so and you’d feel the reason and freeze. You barely notice when a woman is attracted to you, so of course you’d have never noticed a man. But then you’d relax and give me that fucking smile, the warm one that softens you so much, makes you look touchable. You’d jerk back against me, and from there everything would go so quickly, so fast, so hard. I’d be more violent than I like, bite you hard and make you scream until you learned to ask for help.”

I didn’t know what to think of that. People didn’t just… dream about me, think about me like that. That was something that happened to other people, to the heroines in Bob’s novels. That wasn’t real life, especially not mine. I cleared my throat.

“Once again, you’re not too big on reality, huh?” He tried a smile but I could see his imaginings weren’t leaving him unaffected. Periodically his hips would jerk into the empty air, seeking friction that wasn’t there. I could lie and say that I was entirely unaffected, but I don’t feel like it right now.

“Another old standby is you in my car, on my lap, having to keep your head down against my shoulder to keep from hitting it on the roof whenever the road gets rougher. I don’t move at all, beyond settling my hands on your hips, instead letting you move how you like, putting me where you want me, working towards your own pleasure. I imagine the feel of your breath against my neck, the way you’d tremble at the end, how you’d need help to work through it, how your eyes would clench closed with the intensity of it. You’d let me hold you after that, let me clutch you until you fell still, until your breathing was steady again.” I didn’t have anything to say to that, honestly. Was there even anything to say? I didn’t know, at that point. I was affected, though, maybe too much. I needed him to stop talking because thinking about this was the last thing I needed to do.

“Look, Marcone, I know I promised, but-,” he laughed and leaned closer to me, licking his lips softly.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? About making it real. I imagine you on all fours for me, Harry, hips canting back, mouth open, flushed as all. I imagine fucking you until you come all over yourself, until you’re too sensitive to think. I imagine you touching me, gentle, confused, maybe a little loss. I imagine keeping you for myself, making it so you’d never be any good for anyone else again. I’d be the best and the last you’ve had, Harry, I’d do anything for you, anything to see you happy. It makes me insane just thinking about it,” he said, closer again, right there, and I could’ve let him, I could’ve, but… no. This was the potion talking, not him. He didn’t know what he was saying, and he’d hate himself in the morning. I stood up and walked away.

“Go to sleep, John,” I said, and he cocked his head.

“You want me, Harry.” I gritted my teeth hard.

“No, I don’t. I’ll see you in the morning, now sleep.” Realization dawned suddenly and sharply on his face, and his smile went gentle and soft, reassuring.

“Harry, this is me. I want this, I want you, I want you now. That isn’t going to change.” I raked my hand hard through my hair and took more steps away from him.

“Yeah, it will. I’m not stupid, John, and I know… look, just, please. Good night.” I’d never dealt with this before and I didn’t really know how to but I did at least know that I wasn’t going to take advantage of him when he was like this, in one of his rarely vulnerable states.

“And if it doesn’t? What if, in the morning, I tell you that this was all the truth, that I do love you, that I do want you? What then?” I let myself smirk, vague, the best I could do at the time.

“I’ll give you a big ol’ kiss,” I said, puckering my lips like a moron, and he chuckled before he stood and moved back to his corner.

“I’ll look forward to it; do have the couch, by the way; I’m perfectly alright over here.” So I did. I went to sleep, and he, presumably, did the same.