![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMarcone was actually ensnared by a pretty supernatural creature for once, a nagi. Nagas can breed with anything, but the eggs always breed true for nagi. Male naga can only be made by the female dying and, essentially, injecting her essence into a male human.
Main Points:
Dresden Files AU, M is for Marcone Series, although actually Dresden's POV for once
Chapter Summary: Dresden tries to help Marcone deal with the aftereffects of his supernatural encounter.
Word Count: 2398
Rating: Teen
Marcone/Dresden preslash
Warnings: While not the canon homophobia-feel, Dresden realizes he has a crush and doesn't deal with it particularly well. Bob is still a little horny but think more TV!Bob in the episode The Other Dick, not "nonconsensual orgy" Bob. Basically, Dresden doesn't have a perfect understanding of asexuality, nonheteronormativity, or the like. Unlike the books, he realizes he doesn't know, and he cares, and he's trying to understand even if he doesn't fully know what he's doing and it's a bit of a struggle.
“Come on, we can at least throw you on my couch,” I urge him, trying to haul him upright, only he’s not quite cooperating.
“Contrary to my cultivated appearance, I’ll be perfectly fine sleeping on the floor, and I’d rather you not have any difficulties with the circle,” he counters, yawning. Despite his chosen words, the slightest hint of a rougher Italian accent creeps into his speech, joining the slight hissing, and I hadn’t actually expected him to be Italian at all.
Hospitality suggests that I’d be an ass if I took him at his word. Self-preservation insists he’s right, and I should probably leave Mouse to his guard duties.
“You don’t look so cultivated right now.” I chuckle as he flips me off, since he wouldn’t bother usually. He’d eviscerate me with words instead. He curls up, nearly drifting off then and there. It’s going to be a problem if he goes into hibernation or something, but I’ll deal with that when and if we get there. “Mouse, Johnny. Johnny, Mouse. We’re trying to help him not be a naga right now, even if we can’t do anything about the criminal scumbag part, so play nicely, okay?” Of course, I actually could, but as that would be a violation of his brain and a Law of Magic, I’ll skip that part. My dogasaurus stares at me and turns that sharp, intelligent gaze on Marcone.
He struggles, but fights through it long enough to turn up some more words. “I do not mean to trespass in your sanctuary, Guardian. I wish no harm to that which is under your protection, only safety for and from myself.” I…guess he knows what Mouse actually is. But then, I shouldn’t be surprised.
My dog pauses long enough to convince me he’s actually thinking about it, then barks quietly, wagging his tail. Marcone smiles slightly and holds his hand out for Mouse to sniff. Mouse decides on a headbutt instead, but backs off, still acting friendly, to sit attentively as I draw the circle of chalk around Marcone.
“Before you fall asleep again, could you let Hendricks know where you are?” I couldn’t withstand another adorable kitten glare when Cujo shows up, gun in hand.
“I’ll turn my phone on once you finish the circle and my electronics are safe.” The emphasis says he actually gets annoyed by such things, score one for me. It’s unexpected seeing him with his walls down, but enlightening. “And I’ll wait for him to finish, of course. He’s earned this.” Oh yeah, the school thing. Still weird.
He relaxes the instant I push power into the circle, reaching into his pocket and turning the phone on. Personally, I have a call to make myself, though I hang up before Thomas can get much of a protest out, and head down to see Bob.
Who becomes a nuisance almost as soon as I wake him up. He whistles. “Boss, a male naga? I’m proud. You need to let yourself go more often.”
I’m a little flustered. I hadn’t figured he’d be able to see it the second he looked at me, which, unfortunately, means that other magical types can probably do the same thing. “It was just a kiss,” I defend myself weakly, and he snorts.
“And what a kiss. Rrrawr.” Bob is far too good at that, but then, he’d probably star in a porno if he could. And call it a service to humankind, too.
“It wasn’t that good.” Or so I tell myself. I actually don’t remember a lot of it. Side effects of absurdly hot magic types. At least I hadn’t had this reaction to Thomas. That thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but yes, the current situation absolutely could be worse. “Anyway, that’s not the problem. The problem is that it was Marcone.”
“He of the mesmerizing money green eyes?” Bob sounds slightly delighted by that revelation, too, which is a little disconcerting. The rest of it is just normal for him, but for some inexplicable Boblike reason he’s happy it’s Marcone. “I wasn’t aware he wasn’t human. You shouldn’t have triggered a soul gaze if he wasn’t.”
I pause a moment to wonder why he’s fixating on the eye thing until I realize that, oh yeah, I do talk about them more than normal, but then, I don’t have to worry about meeting his gaze, so of course it’s going to come off as unusual that I can talk about it. “Bob, focus. He wasn’t. He’s currently turning. Now, it can’t be prevented, right?”
“No, though most male naga retain some portion of their humanity, unlike nagi, who are born not human. In either case, they are largely benevolent, though fiercely territorial and capable of great destruction when provoked.” Some things don’t change, I guess. “It’s a messy business. How far is he along?”
I get the feeling he’s angling for more information about the kiss, but I go along with it anyway. “He was lucid and charming people for a while, but then I guess the fever got the better of him? He’s sleeping upstairs right now.”
“Near the first moulting, then, unless he’s passed out more than once. When he wakes up again, ask him about that.” Good. Information about what we’re up against will be useful. “I believe the number of moultings varies, and depends a little on how strongly he clings to his own humanity. Essentially, it’s a spiritual process, where he sheds some of his humanity and grows into his new skin as a naga. The last moulting requires your handsome mob boss to be placed in a hot bath or the like where he’ll grow his tail. Won’t be stuck with it, of course, since naga are shapeshifters.” Which probably means he’ll have to be naked. My life, ladies and gentlemen.
There’s another obvious problem. “Bob, I don’t have hot water. Can we, I dunno, bring him to one of his safehouses or something?”
“He probably won’t be able to move that far, now that he’s reached a moulting stage. I suppose you could attempt to carry him, but it might send the wrong signals.” He sounds pretty gleeful at the prospect. “And I did mention that humanity used to boil hot water for hot baths. Several times.” …Oh. To be fair, I usually tune out when he talks about ‘how they did it in the olden days’.
My shower probably won’t be very comfortable, especially if he gets a tail as long as the one I’d seen. I usually feel cramped myself, just trying to stand in there. But then, if it’s his final step turning into a cold-blooded serpentine critter, he’ll probably care more about how the water is than curling his tail up. “I won’t…boil him alive, will I?” I ask, hesitantly, because even if he might not quite count as human anymore and thus not a violation of the First Law, I still would feel bad, and not just because Cujo would kill me with no hesitation.
Bob laughs. “Harry, naga tend to hang out with dragons. A little human fire magic isn’t going to do anything but make one warm and cozy.”
That’s actually a good question on the whole motive front, but that discussion can be tabled for now. Both Marcone and I would be more at ease if both of us were a little more in control of the process. “So he gets to keep some of his humanity.” Well, if simply being a stubborn bastard is enough, Johnny’s got this covered.
I can hear the shrug in the spirit’s voice. “It’s not like being born a changeling. One isn’t forced to choose a world.”
Hmm. “Is there some way to influence the process?”
Bob’s eyes light up. “Something to anchor him in his humanity. Harry, you bring me the best projects.”
“And not sex,” I add quickly. “He’s kinda asexual anyway.” In most cases, it wouldn’t be my secret to tell, but it does influence my ability to help him, and it’s not like Bob’s going to tell anyone anyway.
He pauses, humming, looking me over, which is a little uncomfortable. “He finds you sexy enough, anyway.”
“Apparently, I’m an exception, or something. He hadn’t been planning on telling me.” I don’t think he would have, even if I’d become less hostile to him at some point. I didn’t quite fit into his plans, which was honestly probably good for both of us, me because I wouldn’t want to and him because somebody had to stand between him and any inclinations toward world domination. That thought’s a little sad, the idea that he’d have kept going without even hinting at it. Not that I would’ve reacted well, but that makes it worse, not better.
“Well, it’s not like humanity has a monopoly on sexual congress, anyway. For example, Harry, have you thought about doing it with him once he can shift—” He breaks off into laughter as I turn beet red and start sputtering. “I’d say you’re too easy, Boss, but you’re really not. You should be, though. Get in bed with the mob.”
Of course, this would be the worst time for Thomas to join us, which is why I hear him coming down the stairs. Still, I opt to act like Bob is not talking about my sex life. My brother’s going to be mad enough as it is. “We have to talk about Accords stuff, too, but that can wait.” Until I know for sure whether Marcone will retain enough of himself to work with me on it, planning is a little useless.
“Let me know when you find out if he’s had another moulting.” At least I won’t have to deal with them both at once, as Bob goes into concentration mode.
“Why is there a criminal in our home? Why does he smell like you?” From the way he’s moving, he’s in full White Court Vampire predator mode, just a little too fast and inhuman. “What are you thinking?”
“I told you, he got infected with something, I’m trying to help him.” I didn’t really want to give him too many of the details. As a relatively virtuous vampire, my brother might be able to help, with some experience in that department, but I was getting the feeling he really wouldn’t want to.
“Harry, please, this isn’t safe.” Thomas’s voice is starting to rise.
“He’s safer with me than out there. I’ve got him trapped in a circle, I’ve got Mouse watching him, which is more than I can say if I just left him there. Like you, he’s trying to fight it, but if he can’t I’d rather he be somewhere where I can just toss a fireball his way.” My brother’s grip on my arm weakens slightly, just enough that it doesn’t hurt anymore, but he still looks upset.
“He wants you,” he warns, trying to shock me into giving up, maybe, and that’s enough to tick me off.
“I know. We already had that conversation, and I’m pretty sure I can take him.” I refuse to backtrack even though it occurs to me that’s probably an innuendo, too. “He doesn’t actually want to hurt me. He’s actually the one that stopped me when I tried to kiss him.” By the way Thomas’s eyes darken, that didn’t reassure him like I’d planned.
“You tried to kiss him? You hate him! Let me—” I’m not sure what he’s planning to do, but I’m not okay with it. I’d agreed to help him and brought him here, which made him my problem.
“It caught me off guard. Now that I know to watch out for it, I’ll just deal with it the same way I deal with the vampires and fae and who knows what else in my life.” I wouldn’t say it’s exactly easy, not the way Marcone makes it look, but it’s a skill I’ve definitely learned. I’ve had to.
He goes stubborn but quiet. Still worried about me, I guess. “Harry, it’s—it’s not just the magic.”
It’s my turn to go quiet, this time from confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You wouldn’t. You can be pretty oblivious.” I protest some, and increase the volume when he ruffles my hair, but when he backs away he’s fond but resigned. “I didn’t want to mention it and give you a crisis of conscience, but you found him attractive before all this.” He points upstairs, and that’s the point at which I realize ‘oh, yeah, need to help, schedule crisis for later’. I hadn’t realized, mostly because I wasn’t used to crushes on men, let alone men in his sort of profession, but it would explain all the times I describe him as ‘handsome’.
“Still on me whether or not I act on it,” I respond cheerfully, and he looks closer at me.
“You’re in shock, huh?” His tone’s amused, but still worried about me, too.
“A little bit, but I don’t have time for that. You can get me very, very drunk later.” I might also happen to say things I’ll regret, but that has the advantage of complete plausible deniability on my end.
Main Points:
Dresden Files AU, M is for Marcone Series, although actually Dresden's POV for once
Chapter Summary: Dresden tries to help Marcone deal with the aftereffects of his supernatural encounter.
Word Count: 2398
Rating: Teen
Marcone/Dresden preslash
Warnings: While not the canon homophobia-feel, Dresden realizes he has a crush and doesn't deal with it particularly well. Bob is still a little horny but think more TV!Bob in the episode The Other Dick, not "nonconsensual orgy" Bob. Basically, Dresden doesn't have a perfect understanding of asexuality, nonheteronormativity, or the like. Unlike the books, he realizes he doesn't know, and he cares, and he's trying to understand even if he doesn't fully know what he's doing and it's a bit of a struggle.
Admittedly, I babble a little on the way there, but you try to be at ease with a monster in your backseat. He responds with a little snark, but it’s half-hearted at best. No matter how well he hides it, I’m paying attention now, so I hear the slight undercurrent of pain in his voice. By the point he goes quiet, it’s hard to tell whether he fell asleep or just passed out, but either way it’s probably a blessing. He glares like a tiny, ineffectual kitten when we finally make it to my home and I have to wake him up and unbuckle him. It’s unsettlingly adorable. If anything, he’s even hotter now (and by that I mean warmer, he’s burning up, shut up). He’s half-plastered against my side, which I’d complain about except I’m not sure he’d be able to walk on his own. He barely manages to stumble the few steps into my apartment, once it becomes clear exactly what I’m doing. Mouse comes out, and he doesn’t growl at the intruder, but he doesn’t bother looking friendly, either, looming over John who’s half collapsed onto my floor.
“Come on, we can at least throw you on my couch,” I urge him, trying to haul him upright, only he’s not quite cooperating.
“Contrary to my cultivated appearance, I’ll be perfectly fine sleeping on the floor, and I’d rather you not have any difficulties with the circle,” he counters, yawning. Despite his chosen words, the slightest hint of a rougher Italian accent creeps into his speech, joining the slight hissing, and I hadn’t actually expected him to be Italian at all.
Hospitality suggests that I’d be an ass if I took him at his word. Self-preservation insists he’s right, and I should probably leave Mouse to his guard duties.
“You don’t look so cultivated right now.” I chuckle as he flips me off, since he wouldn’t bother usually. He’d eviscerate me with words instead. He curls up, nearly drifting off then and there. It’s going to be a problem if he goes into hibernation or something, but I’ll deal with that when and if we get there. “Mouse, Johnny. Johnny, Mouse. We’re trying to help him not be a naga right now, even if we can’t do anything about the criminal scumbag part, so play nicely, okay?” Of course, I actually could, but as that would be a violation of his brain and a Law of Magic, I’ll skip that part. My dogasaurus stares at me and turns that sharp, intelligent gaze on Marcone.
He struggles, but fights through it long enough to turn up some more words. “I do not mean to trespass in your sanctuary, Guardian. I wish no harm to that which is under your protection, only safety for and from myself.” I…guess he knows what Mouse actually is. But then, I shouldn’t be surprised.
My dog pauses long enough to convince me he’s actually thinking about it, then barks quietly, wagging his tail. Marcone smiles slightly and holds his hand out for Mouse to sniff. Mouse decides on a headbutt instead, but backs off, still acting friendly, to sit attentively as I draw the circle of chalk around Marcone.
“Before you fall asleep again, could you let Hendricks know where you are?” I couldn’t withstand another adorable kitten glare when Cujo shows up, gun in hand.
“I’ll turn my phone on once you finish the circle and my electronics are safe.” The emphasis says he actually gets annoyed by such things, score one for me. It’s unexpected seeing him with his walls down, but enlightening. “And I’ll wait for him to finish, of course. He’s earned this.” Oh yeah, the school thing. Still weird.
He relaxes the instant I push power into the circle, reaching into his pocket and turning the phone on. Personally, I have a call to make myself, though I hang up before Thomas can get much of a protest out, and head down to see Bob.
Who becomes a nuisance almost as soon as I wake him up. He whistles. “Boss, a male naga? I’m proud. You need to let yourself go more often.”
I’m a little flustered. I hadn’t figured he’d be able to see it the second he looked at me, which, unfortunately, means that other magical types can probably do the same thing. “It was just a kiss,” I defend myself weakly, and he snorts.
“And what a kiss. Rrrawr.” Bob is far too good at that, but then, he’d probably star in a porno if he could. And call it a service to humankind, too.
“It wasn’t that good.” Or so I tell myself. I actually don’t remember a lot of it. Side effects of absurdly hot magic types. At least I hadn’t had this reaction to Thomas. That thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but yes, the current situation absolutely could be worse. “Anyway, that’s not the problem. The problem is that it was Marcone.”
“He of the mesmerizing money green eyes?” Bob sounds slightly delighted by that revelation, too, which is a little disconcerting. The rest of it is just normal for him, but for some inexplicable Boblike reason he’s happy it’s Marcone. “I wasn’t aware he wasn’t human. You shouldn’t have triggered a soul gaze if he wasn’t.”
I pause a moment to wonder why he’s fixating on the eye thing until I realize that, oh yeah, I do talk about them more than normal, but then, I don’t have to worry about meeting his gaze, so of course it’s going to come off as unusual that I can talk about it. “Bob, focus. He wasn’t. He’s currently turning. Now, it can’t be prevented, right?”
“No, though most male naga retain some portion of their humanity, unlike nagi, who are born not human. In either case, they are largely benevolent, though fiercely territorial and capable of great destruction when provoked.” Some things don’t change, I guess. “It’s a messy business. How far is he along?”
I get the feeling he’s angling for more information about the kiss, but I go along with it anyway. “He was lucid and charming people for a while, but then I guess the fever got the better of him? He’s sleeping upstairs right now.”
“Near the first moulting, then, unless he’s passed out more than once. When he wakes up again, ask him about that.” Good. Information about what we’re up against will be useful. “I believe the number of moultings varies, and depends a little on how strongly he clings to his own humanity. Essentially, it’s a spiritual process, where he sheds some of his humanity and grows into his new skin as a naga. The last moulting requires your handsome mob boss to be placed in a hot bath or the like where he’ll grow his tail. Won’t be stuck with it, of course, since naga are shapeshifters.” Which probably means he’ll have to be naked. My life, ladies and gentlemen.
There’s another obvious problem. “Bob, I don’t have hot water. Can we, I dunno, bring him to one of his safehouses or something?”
“He probably won’t be able to move that far, now that he’s reached a moulting stage. I suppose you could attempt to carry him, but it might send the wrong signals.” He sounds pretty gleeful at the prospect. “And I did mention that humanity used to boil hot water for hot baths. Several times.” …Oh. To be fair, I usually tune out when he talks about ‘how they did it in the olden days’.
My shower probably won’t be very comfortable, especially if he gets a tail as long as the one I’d seen. I usually feel cramped myself, just trying to stand in there. But then, if it’s his final step turning into a cold-blooded serpentine critter, he’ll probably care more about how the water is than curling his tail up. “I won’t…boil him alive, will I?” I ask, hesitantly, because even if he might not quite count as human anymore and thus not a violation of the First Law, I still would feel bad, and not just because Cujo would kill me with no hesitation.
Bob laughs. “Harry, naga tend to hang out with dragons. A little human fire magic isn’t going to do anything but make one warm and cozy.”
That’s actually a good question on the whole motive front, but that discussion can be tabled for now. Both Marcone and I would be more at ease if both of us were a little more in control of the process. “So he gets to keep some of his humanity.” Well, if simply being a stubborn bastard is enough, Johnny’s got this covered.
I can hear the shrug in the spirit’s voice. “It’s not like being born a changeling. One isn’t forced to choose a world.”
Hmm. “Is there some way to influence the process?”
Bob’s eyes light up. “Something to anchor him in his humanity. Harry, you bring me the best projects.”
“And not sex,” I add quickly. “He’s kinda asexual anyway.” In most cases, it wouldn’t be my secret to tell, but it does influence my ability to help him, and it’s not like Bob’s going to tell anyone anyway.
He pauses, humming, looking me over, which is a little uncomfortable. “He finds you sexy enough, anyway.”
“Apparently, I’m an exception, or something. He hadn’t been planning on telling me.” I don’t think he would have, even if I’d become less hostile to him at some point. I didn’t quite fit into his plans, which was honestly probably good for both of us, me because I wouldn’t want to and him because somebody had to stand between him and any inclinations toward world domination. That thought’s a little sad, the idea that he’d have kept going without even hinting at it. Not that I would’ve reacted well, but that makes it worse, not better.
“Well, it’s not like humanity has a monopoly on sexual congress, anyway. For example, Harry, have you thought about doing it with him once he can shift—” He breaks off into laughter as I turn beet red and start sputtering. “I’d say you’re too easy, Boss, but you’re really not. You should be, though. Get in bed with the mob.”
Of course, this would be the worst time for Thomas to join us, which is why I hear him coming down the stairs. Still, I opt to act like Bob is not talking about my sex life. My brother’s going to be mad enough as it is. “We have to talk about Accords stuff, too, but that can wait.” Until I know for sure whether Marcone will retain enough of himself to work with me on it, planning is a little useless.
“Let me know when you find out if he’s had another moulting.” At least I won’t have to deal with them both at once, as Bob goes into concentration mode.
“Why is there a criminal in our home? Why does he smell like you?” From the way he’s moving, he’s in full White Court Vampire predator mode, just a little too fast and inhuman. “What are you thinking?”
“I told you, he got infected with something, I’m trying to help him.” I didn’t really want to give him too many of the details. As a relatively virtuous vampire, my brother might be able to help, with some experience in that department, but I was getting the feeling he really wouldn’t want to.
“Harry, please, this isn’t safe.” Thomas’s voice is starting to rise.
“He’s safer with me than out there. I’ve got him trapped in a circle, I’ve got Mouse watching him, which is more than I can say if I just left him there. Like you, he’s trying to fight it, but if he can’t I’d rather he be somewhere where I can just toss a fireball his way.” My brother’s grip on my arm weakens slightly, just enough that it doesn’t hurt anymore, but he still looks upset.
“He wants you,” he warns, trying to shock me into giving up, maybe, and that’s enough to tick me off.
“I know. We already had that conversation, and I’m pretty sure I can take him.” I refuse to backtrack even though it occurs to me that’s probably an innuendo, too. “He doesn’t actually want to hurt me. He’s actually the one that stopped me when I tried to kiss him.” By the way Thomas’s eyes darken, that didn’t reassure him like I’d planned.
“You tried to kiss him? You hate him! Let me—” I’m not sure what he’s planning to do, but I’m not okay with it. I’d agreed to help him and brought him here, which made him my problem.
“It caught me off guard. Now that I know to watch out for it, I’ll just deal with it the same way I deal with the vampires and fae and who knows what else in my life.” I wouldn’t say it’s exactly easy, not the way Marcone makes it look, but it’s a skill I’ve definitely learned. I’ve had to.
He goes stubborn but quiet. Still worried about me, I guess. “Harry, it’s—it’s not just the magic.”
It’s my turn to go quiet, this time from confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You wouldn’t. You can be pretty oblivious.” I protest some, and increase the volume when he ruffles my hair, but when he backs away he’s fond but resigned. “I didn’t want to mention it and give you a crisis of conscience, but you found him attractive before all this.” He points upstairs, and that’s the point at which I realize ‘oh, yeah, need to help, schedule crisis for later’. I hadn’t realized, mostly because I wasn’t used to crushes on men, let alone men in his sort of profession, but it would explain all the times I describe him as ‘handsome’.
“Still on me whether or not I act on it,” I respond cheerfully, and he looks closer at me.
“You’re in shock, huh?” His tone’s amused, but still worried about me, too.
“A little bit, but I don’t have time for that. You can get me very, very drunk later.” I might also happen to say things I’ll regret, but that has the advantage of complete plausible deniability on my end.
