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madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Dresden Files AU, M is for Marcone Series, although actually Dresden's POV for once
Chapter Summary: Dresden assesses Marcone's condition.
Word Count: 1833
Rating: Teen
Dresden/Marcone preslash
I burst into the room and immediately glance at the chalk circle. Marcone still looks rumpled, but mostly, he looks exhausted. I’m getting to see so many new sides to the man today. I’m honestly not sure that’s an improvement. It was easier to hate him when I barely knew him.
That being said, it’s weird to see him awake, and while Bob had said the process would take a while, I had kind of expected to come up and see something inhuman about him, now. He looked the same to my normal human eyes, and a quick glance with my Sight confirmed that nothing had changed. I quickly turned that back off, because I didn’t want to deal with accidentally catching a glimpse of anything else.
It’s even stranger still to see that he’s reading one of the roleplaying books rather than messing around with his phone, and that’s the look of curious intent I’m surprised to realize I recognize. Not how I’d expect him to be spending his time.
“Mouse agreed to bring me the book, I assume without breaking the circle.”
I double check, reaching out, and yeah, the circle’s still there. Mouse looks a little hurt that I’d doubt him. Which is fair; he probably knows more about magic than I’ll learn in a lifetime, and since wizards live for a long time, that’s saying a lot.
I try not to think about Marcone in a t-shirt joining the Alphas and Thomas and me playing, mostly because it seems weirdly normal. I can’t help it, though, because that’s odd enough I can’t stop poking at it, like a slightly wiggly tooth. Once I got past the conception that all Johnny did was gut people and plan on gutting people, I could see him picking up RPGs as a hobby. He’s competitive, rules lawyer-y, and intense enough in his day job, why not when he’s in his free time? He’d memorize all the monster descriptions and drive the DM insane by being clever and unpredictable.
“Enjoying yourself?” Thomas taunts, and Marcone lets out a long, slow breath.
Aww, and here I thought I was special, when it came to getting on Scumbag’s nerves. He always does that when he’s reminding himself to be patient with me. I should probably intervene with something clever, though; Thomas looks like he’s spoiling for a fight. Marcone, unfortunately, beats me to the punch.
“Oh, terribly. All of my plans revolved on being, what’s the term the book used, a ‘vanilla mortal’?” He very carefully waves the book in his hands, and yeah, thinking about it I can definitely see him being respectful of other people’s stuff, especially as a guest. “I had planned on never telling Mr. Dresden how I felt. I certainly have no desire to intrude on your territory. Everything that makes me me might be dying today, and I might not even notice after the fact.” His jaw clenches. And that’s—
Well, it’s not fear. Maybe a little bit; he’s a mortal afraid of dying, but he’s more…frustrated? Which is a very Marcone thing. Worried about his work going undone. Of failing the city, of leaving the girl in the hospital bed to die alone.
Mostly, my mouth is hanging wide open, because the mob boss is definitely honestly showing his emotions. He might even be having a panic attack, weird as that thought is.
Thomas, meanwhile, is having several very unpleasant realizations, judging by his expression. One of the biggest, of course, is the similarities between Marcone’s current situation and the making of a White Court Vampire. Of fighting the monster within, fighting to keep your humanity.
“It isn’t quite as doom-and-gloom as all that,” I add cheerfully, and Marcone, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Thomas since he showed up (which shows excellent threat detection), transfers his glare to me.
“I don’t need mindless platitudes, thank you.” Maybe he’s a pacer. He definitely looks like he has restless energy he needs to get out somehow.
“It isn’t. I consulted an expert—a friend,” I continue quickly, realizing how he might interpret that, “…and he says male naga retain some of their humanity even after the change. Plus, they tend to like humans, are protective spirits, and are territorial, so it’s almost like you won’t notice anything has changed.”
He smiles slightly, relaxes almost imperceptibly. I’m a trained investigator looking for it, and Thomas is, well, Thomas, so it’s not like neither of us don't notice, but we don’t have to point it out, either.
“Is there a way to influence the process?” Trust him to get straight to the point.
“I have him working on it—and don’t worry, he knows how to keep a secret.” Given that he’d be confiscated and very possibly destroyed if he was found, it’s not like he’d be talking to anyone anyway.
He takes another deep breath. “I’m not particularly good at it, but this entire thing is an exercise in trust.” I raise my eyebrows, shocked. I don’t even get to ask how he’s feeling when he waves it off.
“I suspect a number of the people you interact with on a day-to-day basis aren’t terribly forthcoming. You are doing me an incredible favor. While hardly a repayment, I can at least make the process easier for us both.” He carefully sets down the book beside him. “I asked you for help knowing that if I became a rabid animal you would put me down like a rabid dog, hoping your morals would prevent you from following through on various daily threats if it did not.”
He has my number. Of course, he’s seen my soul. It’d be a shock if he hadn’t. And it’s not like he’d had to state the rest—I liked honesty, even if the High Council told me ‘lie or die’ on a regular basis. He knew me well enough to know I’d do the right thing, but he was hedging his bets, trying to ensure that, if he did change and was still sufficiently Marcone, I wouldn’t just kill him.
He was trusting me not to stab him in the back. And he probably didn’t have many people in his life that he could trust, any more than I could stop keeping secrets from other people or people would lie to me. Clients who didn’t think I’d believe them. A giant merry-go-round of myself or other people trying to protect each other. People and beings with agendas, all trying to use me as a pawn on their chessboard.
He’s breathing a little more rapidly, hand beginning to tremble. It’s starting again, his fever picking back up, and I hadn’t asked him about passing out yet. “Marcone, have you passed out more than once?”
He shakes his head, curling up a little at the pain.
“Okay, you’ll pass out before something he called a ‘moulting’. The more it happens, the less humanity you have, but every male naga keeps at least a little. Did you feel something just now?” It’s a good question if he’d even noticed anything.
He pauses, taking stock of his situation. At least he’s taking this seriously. It takes him a few moments longer than it would on average. Apparently pain can distract him, when it’s supernatural pain anyway. “When I woke up, I had a terrible headache. And I got very dizzy when you came up the stairs.” He’s watching me, and apparently he’s reading me—so that hasn’t changed, at least. “That’s when it happened?”
A person’s mind is pretty personal, but if the change is subtle, we really need to know. “Now isn’t the time to keep secrets. If you’ve noticed anything change, tell me.”
He hisses at me. Which, while it’s fair, he’d just been talking about honesty, isn’t exactly a human-like response. “Mr. Dresden…”
“Sorry, sorry, habit from dealing with secretive clients.” I smile a little to show I’m serious, and he rolls his eyes.
His personality in general is at least there. He frowns, licking his lips, closing his eyes to concentrate, and when he opens his eyes, he looks a little surprised.
“Anything?” All right, I might be a little antsy. I’ve always had trouble staying still.
He seems to be thinking of the proper wording, which sucks, but I wait, if not patiently. “I…usually, I have a healthy respect for your power. I have to plan around them. Around you. It feels like, after this, maybe…I don’t have to do that anymore. I could be your equal.” He barely finishes before he doubles over, pressing his hands against his head like it’s helping neutralize the headache.
It’s…strange, really, to hear that he’d actually taken me seriously. But then, we kind of make a game of it, don’t we, the both of us, pretending that we don’t take each other’s threats seriously. It feels like the right time to start to retreat. “Hang in there, Marcone. I’m going to have a talk with my source, okay? And hopefully we’ll have come up with something by the next time I come back.”
It takes him a moment, but he nods to show he’s heard me, sweat pooling on his forehead. Mouse whines and parks himself right next to the edge of the circle, glancing at me, and I pause. Well, having pets is fairly human, even if Marcone’s too put-together to have any. And for a guy as in control as ‘Gentleman Johnny’, allowing himself to show his pain must mean it’s pretty bad.
“You opposed to having a roommate?” I ask, and he frowns at me blearily before shaking his head.
I look to Thomas, who has his best ‘you are impossibly reckless but I’m going to back you up anyway because you’re my brother’ face on, and then nod to Mouse, who bounds into the circle. Interestingly, the circle…bends, but bounces back. Mouse throws himself onto Marcone, a giant warm fuzzy blanket, and the man lets out a shaky sound and buries his face in my dog. Who is definitely the best and deserves a treat after all this.
On one hand, that can’t be comfortable. He must be vastly overheating, like that. On the other hand, I know exactly how much comfort can mean, over and above physical discomfort. And Bob had said that naga can handle temperatures humans can’t.
“Let’s see if our contact has something for us,” I murmur to Thomas and usher him back downstairs.
Dresden Files AU, M is for Marcone Series, although actually Dresden's POV for once
Chapter Summary: Dresden assesses Marcone's condition.
Word Count: 1833
Rating: Teen
Dresden/Marcone preslash
As I walk up the stairs, I feel the shift in the air. I can kind of see why Bob would refer to it as a moulting. The wave of magical energy felt like when I’d put on the hexenwolf belt. A transformation that felt so right…but it involved discarding some of his humanity to do it, just like becoming a wolf had. Pretty much any magic trying to pass itself off as ‘everything’s fine; nothing to see here’ is a little suspect, in my book.
I burst into the room and immediately glance at the chalk circle. Marcone still looks rumpled, but mostly, he looks exhausted. I’m getting to see so many new sides to the man today. I’m honestly not sure that’s an improvement. It was easier to hate him when I barely knew him.
That being said, it’s weird to see him awake, and while Bob had said the process would take a while, I had kind of expected to come up and see something inhuman about him, now. He looked the same to my normal human eyes, and a quick glance with my Sight confirmed that nothing had changed. I quickly turned that back off, because I didn’t want to deal with accidentally catching a glimpse of anything else.
It’s even stranger still to see that he’s reading one of the roleplaying books rather than messing around with his phone, and that’s the look of curious intent I’m surprised to realize I recognize. Not how I’d expect him to be spending his time.
“Mouse agreed to bring me the book, I assume without breaking the circle.”
I double check, reaching out, and yeah, the circle’s still there. Mouse looks a little hurt that I’d doubt him. Which is fair; he probably knows more about magic than I’ll learn in a lifetime, and since wizards live for a long time, that’s saying a lot.
I try not to think about Marcone in a t-shirt joining the Alphas and Thomas and me playing, mostly because it seems weirdly normal. I can’t help it, though, because that’s odd enough I can’t stop poking at it, like a slightly wiggly tooth. Once I got past the conception that all Johnny did was gut people and plan on gutting people, I could see him picking up RPGs as a hobby. He’s competitive, rules lawyer-y, and intense enough in his day job, why not when he’s in his free time? He’d memorize all the monster descriptions and drive the DM insane by being clever and unpredictable.
“Enjoying yourself?” Thomas taunts, and Marcone lets out a long, slow breath.
Aww, and here I thought I was special, when it came to getting on Scumbag’s nerves. He always does that when he’s reminding himself to be patient with me. I should probably intervene with something clever, though; Thomas looks like he’s spoiling for a fight. Marcone, unfortunately, beats me to the punch.
“Oh, terribly. All of my plans revolved on being, what’s the term the book used, a ‘vanilla mortal’?” He very carefully waves the book in his hands, and yeah, thinking about it I can definitely see him being respectful of other people’s stuff, especially as a guest. “I had planned on never telling Mr. Dresden how I felt. I certainly have no desire to intrude on your territory. Everything that makes me me might be dying today, and I might not even notice after the fact.” His jaw clenches. And that’s—
Well, it’s not fear. Maybe a little bit; he’s a mortal afraid of dying, but he’s more…frustrated? Which is a very Marcone thing. Worried about his work going undone. Of failing the city, of leaving the girl in the hospital bed to die alone.
Mostly, my mouth is hanging wide open, because the mob boss is definitely honestly showing his emotions. He might even be having a panic attack, weird as that thought is.
Thomas, meanwhile, is having several very unpleasant realizations, judging by his expression. One of the biggest, of course, is the similarities between Marcone’s current situation and the making of a White Court Vampire. Of fighting the monster within, fighting to keep your humanity.
“It isn’t quite as doom-and-gloom as all that,” I add cheerfully, and Marcone, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Thomas since he showed up (which shows excellent threat detection), transfers his glare to me.
“I don’t need mindless platitudes, thank you.” Maybe he’s a pacer. He definitely looks like he has restless energy he needs to get out somehow.
“It isn’t. I consulted an expert—a friend,” I continue quickly, realizing how he might interpret that, “…and he says male naga retain some of their humanity even after the change. Plus, they tend to like humans, are protective spirits, and are territorial, so it’s almost like you won’t notice anything has changed.”
He smiles slightly, relaxes almost imperceptibly. I’m a trained investigator looking for it, and Thomas is, well, Thomas, so it’s not like neither of us don't notice, but we don’t have to point it out, either.
“Is there a way to influence the process?” Trust him to get straight to the point.
“I have him working on it—and don’t worry, he knows how to keep a secret.” Given that he’d be confiscated and very possibly destroyed if he was found, it’s not like he’d be talking to anyone anyway.
He takes another deep breath. “I’m not particularly good at it, but this entire thing is an exercise in trust.” I raise my eyebrows, shocked. I don’t even get to ask how he’s feeling when he waves it off.
“I suspect a number of the people you interact with on a day-to-day basis aren’t terribly forthcoming. You are doing me an incredible favor. While hardly a repayment, I can at least make the process easier for us both.” He carefully sets down the book beside him. “I asked you for help knowing that if I became a rabid animal you would put me down like a rabid dog, hoping your morals would prevent you from following through on various daily threats if it did not.”
He has my number. Of course, he’s seen my soul. It’d be a shock if he hadn’t. And it’s not like he’d had to state the rest—I liked honesty, even if the High Council told me ‘lie or die’ on a regular basis. He knew me well enough to know I’d do the right thing, but he was hedging his bets, trying to ensure that, if he did change and was still sufficiently Marcone, I wouldn’t just kill him.
He was trusting me not to stab him in the back. And he probably didn’t have many people in his life that he could trust, any more than I could stop keeping secrets from other people or people would lie to me. Clients who didn’t think I’d believe them. A giant merry-go-round of myself or other people trying to protect each other. People and beings with agendas, all trying to use me as a pawn on their chessboard.
He’s breathing a little more rapidly, hand beginning to tremble. It’s starting again, his fever picking back up, and I hadn’t asked him about passing out yet. “Marcone, have you passed out more than once?”
He shakes his head, curling up a little at the pain.
“Okay, you’ll pass out before something he called a ‘moulting’. The more it happens, the less humanity you have, but every male naga keeps at least a little. Did you feel something just now?” It’s a good question if he’d even noticed anything.
He pauses, taking stock of his situation. At least he’s taking this seriously. It takes him a few moments longer than it would on average. Apparently pain can distract him, when it’s supernatural pain anyway. “When I woke up, I had a terrible headache. And I got very dizzy when you came up the stairs.” He’s watching me, and apparently he’s reading me—so that hasn’t changed, at least. “That’s when it happened?”
A person’s mind is pretty personal, but if the change is subtle, we really need to know. “Now isn’t the time to keep secrets. If you’ve noticed anything change, tell me.”
He hisses at me. Which, while it’s fair, he’d just been talking about honesty, isn’t exactly a human-like response. “Mr. Dresden…”
“Sorry, sorry, habit from dealing with secretive clients.” I smile a little to show I’m serious, and he rolls his eyes.
His personality in general is at least there. He frowns, licking his lips, closing his eyes to concentrate, and when he opens his eyes, he looks a little surprised.
“Anything?” All right, I might be a little antsy. I’ve always had trouble staying still.
He seems to be thinking of the proper wording, which sucks, but I wait, if not patiently. “I…usually, I have a healthy respect for your power. I have to plan around them. Around you. It feels like, after this, maybe…I don’t have to do that anymore. I could be your equal.” He barely finishes before he doubles over, pressing his hands against his head like it’s helping neutralize the headache.
It’s…strange, really, to hear that he’d actually taken me seriously. But then, we kind of make a game of it, don’t we, the both of us, pretending that we don’t take each other’s threats seriously. It feels like the right time to start to retreat. “Hang in there, Marcone. I’m going to have a talk with my source, okay? And hopefully we’ll have come up with something by the next time I come back.”
It takes him a moment, but he nods to show he’s heard me, sweat pooling on his forehead. Mouse whines and parks himself right next to the edge of the circle, glancing at me, and I pause. Well, having pets is fairly human, even if Marcone’s too put-together to have any. And for a guy as in control as ‘Gentleman Johnny’, allowing himself to show his pain must mean it’s pretty bad.
“You opposed to having a roommate?” I ask, and he frowns at me blearily before shaking his head.
I look to Thomas, who has his best ‘you are impossibly reckless but I’m going to back you up anyway because you’re my brother’ face on, and then nod to Mouse, who bounds into the circle. Interestingly, the circle…bends, but bounces back. Mouse throws himself onto Marcone, a giant warm fuzzy blanket, and the man lets out a shaky sound and buries his face in my dog. Who is definitely the best and deserves a treat after all this.
On one hand, that can’t be comfortable. He must be vastly overheating, like that. On the other hand, I know exactly how much comfort can mean, over and above physical discomfort. And Bob had said that naga can handle temperatures humans can’t.
“Let’s see if our contact has something for us,” I murmur to Thomas and usher him back downstairs.
