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dresden_kink2011-07-19 08:28 pm
dresden_kink_mods) wrote in dresden_kink2011-07-19 08:28 pm
Entry tags:
Round Four IS CLOSED
Round Four is closed to new prompts and fills. Go to Round Five
| Round One: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Two: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Three: open only for feedback and WIPs continuation |
| if you previously continued your WIP in The Overflow Post or Round Four, keep going where ever you like, just link link link! |
Round Four: Closed
Read this first. Do it. It's not here to be pretty.
The Rules. Including the Posting Guidelines. aka:
In the first line of your fill, please include:
Character(s)/Pairing(s)/Threesome(s)/Moresome(s) as applicable; Any kinks included; MANDATORY WARNINGS if there is dubcon or noncon, underage characters in sexual situations, and/or major character death. Please don't conflate warnings and kinks; treat each individually, and use your pairings to indicate gen/het/slash/multi/&c. Do not warn for het, slash, or otherwise.
For images: Please post image prompts and fills with alt tag descriptions or with a text description of the piece. Example: [img src="neked.jpg" alt="Here's John being all hot and half naked saying Dresden et cetera et cetera"]. If you are linking to an external image, please include a description with the link.
Thank you.
The discussion post is here. Mod questions go here. The delicious account is here.
Don't forget about all the unfilled prompts. Got an unfilled prompt you want to give a second chance? Repost it here. Otherwise, go ahead and repost an unfilled prompt as a new comment with a link to the original if you are filling it.
Comments in chronological order: http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/2675.html?view=flat
Any prompts, fills, discussion, or meta featuring authentic Ghost Story spoilers should be posted on the Ghost Story post.
ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS AND FILLS. GO TO ROUND FIVE. YOU CAN CONTINUE YOUR ROUND FOUR WIPS HERE.
| Round One: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Two: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Three: open only for feedback and WIPs continuation |
| if you previously continued your WIP in The Overflow Post or Round Four, keep going where ever you like, just link link link! |
Round Four: Closed
Read this first. Do it. It's not here to be pretty.
The Rules. Including the Posting Guidelines. aka:
In the first line of your fill, please include:
Character(s)/Pairing(s)/Threesome(s)/Moresome(s) as applicable; Any kinks included; MANDATORY WARNINGS if there is dubcon or noncon, underage characters in sexual situations, and/or major character death. Please don't conflate warnings and kinks; treat each individually, and use your pairings to indicate gen/het/slash/multi/&c. Do not warn for het, slash, or otherwise.
For images: Please post image prompts and fills with alt tag descriptions or with a text description of the piece. Example: [img src="neked.jpg" alt="Here's John being all hot and half naked saying Dresden et cetera et cetera"]. If you are linking to an external image, please include a description with the link.
Thank you.
The discussion post is here. Mod questions go here. The delicious account is here.
Don't forget about all the unfilled prompts. Got an unfilled prompt you want to give a second chance? Repost it here. Otherwise, go ahead and repost an unfilled prompt as a new comment with a link to the original if you are filling it.
Comments in chronological order: http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/2675.html?view=flat
Any prompts, fills, discussion, or meta featuring authentic Ghost Story spoilers should be posted on the Ghost Story post.
ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS AND FILLS. GO TO ROUND FIVE. YOU CAN CONTINUE YOUR ROUND FOUR WIPS HERE.
Fic: The Life We Make 6a/?
John's voice, still sleep roughened despite the fact that we'd gotten up an hour ago and were sitting down to breakfast, brought my head up from my deep inspection of the pattern on the tablecloth. He sat across from me, legs stretched out beneath the table. Nate, in his usual place to my right looked between the two of us and sighed, vanishing behind his newspaper once more. “Harry?”
“Sorry. I'm fine. Just a little tired I guess.” A sound that reminded me suspiciously of a choked off laugh came from behind the newspaper shield and I flicked my fingers at the back of the paper. Nate shook it out and didn't respond to my little taunt.
“What are your plans for the day?”
“Um...nothing much. I'm going down to St. Mary's to help Father Forthill do an inventory of the emergency supplies he keeps there. Nothing strenuous or exciting.”
“Mmm. Nathan will go with you.” My eyes widened and I shook my head a little before I had time to think about it.
“What? No. No, I don't think so. I don't need a babysitter to go sit in a church for two hours. You need Nate with you.” I sure as hell didn't need to be spending any more time alone with Nate. It was giving my subconscious ideas. Dangerous, terrible ideas. John and Nate were both giving me a look now. I started to duck my head and caught myself. I straightened up in my chair and met John's gaze. Sort of.
“I'm taking Tommy and Darnell with me today. Nathan will accompany you or you will not go. Sells is out there somewhere and it is probable that he knows we've discovered his lair. Even if he has not caught on that we know who he is it is obvious that his drug dealing is a step in some larger plan. Most likely aimed at removing me from control. You will not be left vulnerable.”
“Then I'm not going.”
“Very well. Nate will stay here with you then.” He turned to smile a little at Nate. “It will give you some extra time to work on your research.” Nate laughed.
“Yeah. And we all know how much I love researching for my footnotes.” The scary part was he wasn't joking. He really did love researching the most obscure things. Ordinarily, I even liked helping him. Nate always kept up a steady patter of conversation as we worked, teaching me about his passion. He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “Maybe you could help me with that?”
I pictured that for a second. Together in Nate's office, a cozy little room. He'd be in his comfy computer chair and I'd have pulled in one of the chairs from the next room over. We'd be leaning over the desk, heads nearly touching as we read. Then we'd both reach for a pen or another sticky note and our fingers would touch, the faint scrape of skin against skin and then-
Stars and stones. I shook myself off, mentally, and glared down at my grapefruit. I wished it was something crunchier so I could take a bite and make a lot of noise. Drown out the traitor inside my head.
“I don't think so. If John's going to stick you with me no matter what, I'd rather not let Father Forthill down. If it's okay with you?” I felt bad for dragging Nate out when he'd clearly enjoyed the idea of getting in some extra work on his thesis, but being in close quarters with him didn't seem like a good idea. A church should be safe though. I mean, really. I couldn't think of a place less likely to encourage thoughts about sex.
“Of course. I'll just make you help me later to make up for it.” I didn't miss the look that passed between Nate and John, I just chose to ignore it. I knew I was acting strangely, but I couldn't help it. Everything felt weird, as if every word, every action all had meanings that I'd never considered before. I had to get it under control. Get myself under control.
~
“So then this woman comes in. Nice old lady, and she's got her grandson with her. Well, the guy who came in earlier, the indigent they found frozen under the bridge? He was her son. Of course the Old Man is out back, trying to sew some womans ear back onto her head and I've got to take these two back and let them see the body.” Nate shook his head. “She goes all quiet, and then she starts sobbing. Her grandson, this guy's son is trying to comfort her, trying to lead her away. I mean, hell. Kid couldn't have been more than sixteen, you know? Trying to be strong even though he's just lost his father too. Only she's not having any of it. She slaps the poor kid and starts screaming at him, telling him to shut up and leave her alone.”
Nate pulled into a parking space a few feet from the service entrance of the church and turned the car off. We sat there listening to the engine tick over and start to cool down.
“I don't get it.” Nate got out of the car and I followed him. The day was cool, a bit overcast and leaves and debris skittered across the asphalt around us.
“The point is, grief makes people do insane shit. It's the chemicals your brain releases, yeah. But there's more to it than that. If you look at different cultures and make a cross study of the reactions of people to similar tragedies or losses, their reactions, how they deal with death, are heavily influenced by their culture.”
“Bull shit. I know plenty of people who mourn openly and loudly, and plenty who keep it to themselves. And they're all Americans.”
“But what's their background culture? America is kind of a mixed bag. There're things that define American culture as American, but this isn't one of them. I think, though it's a broad generalization, that if you take a closer look at the parent culture that each individuals family comes from that my theory will hold sound.”
“I think you should stick to antique English literature and philosophy.” I rang the bell and we waited. The wariness I'd been feeling all morning had worn off on the drive over here. Nate was still Nate, and I was still me. So I'd had a weird dream, okay a weird sex dream, and Nate had been in it. Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe it had just been some entirely fictional, very large guy and my mind had dropped Nate's face on him to point out just how wrong it was for me to be fantasizing about anyone but John. Either way, it didn't make any difference in real, waking life. I was with John and there could never be anyone else. I didn't want there to ever be anyone else.
Stress made people do crazy things and my dream was just more proof of that.
I'd put it almost entirely out of my mind and been able to act normally around Nate, which was great. More than almost anything else, I didn't want to lose Nate's friendship, the ease we had with one another. The other guys were okay, but without Nate...I'd be very alone. John was John. I loved him, couldn't imagine my life without him, but he wasn't a friend. He was John. Too large and too important for the word friend. He was the center of my universe. And I didn't want to think about what would happen if John found out about the dream. I wasn't sure what he would do.
John had never been jealous of me, but he was possessive. So it was good that I was getting things back into their right places. I would hate to come between John and Nate, even a little bit. Nate caught sight of the stupid grin I could feel on my face and he poked me in the shoulder with one blunt fingertip. I punched him on the upper arm, lightly. Nate swung a gentle, slow slap at the back of my head and I grabbed at his arm, laughing. Nate caught my wrists and the fight, such as it was, was on.
Which is when the door swung open and Father Forthill poked his head out. We froze. I was half suspended over the hard bulge of Nate's arm, my hands reaching for his too short hair. Father Forthill cocked his head to one side and frowned.
“Harry? Do you need any help?”
“Ah, with this guy? Hell no.” I squirmed and Nate set me back down on my feet. I straightened up and proceeded to tower over both of my companions. “'Scuse me. Heck no. Father Forthill, this is Nathan Hendricks. Nate, this is Father Anthony Forthill.”
“I figured.” I didn't cringe at the heavy accent that Nate put on, but it was a close thing. He'd developed this stereotypical thug persona a few years back so he didn't have to keep silent in every single meeting. It was effective, but it reminded me of letting a four year old paint over a Caravaggio or something. A crime against humanity. “The dog collar's kind of a give away.”
“And I would recognize you anywhere, Mr. Hendricks. Harry talks about you constantly.” Father Forthill stepped back out of the doorway. “Please, come in. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to the door, but I was with someone.” We walked into the church and the door shut behind us. I paused a second to lock the door as well. The church had been robbed once, middle of the day, and ever since the priests had been extra cautious about keeping the doors to the back of the church locked.
Everything that had been stolen had been returned within the week. Mysteriously. Though the thieves had never been caught or turned themselves in. I had it on good authority that both of them were living new lives far, far away from Chicago. In a small town in Alaska. It gave them plenty of time to reflect on their poor life choices. Stealing from a church. Hells bells but some people had no honor.
“Are we interrupting something important? We can wait, or come back another day.” Father Forthill shook his head as he went down the hall.
“No, no. Michael is an old friend and we weren't really getting anywhere anyway. A rather circular and hypothetical discussion.” Father Forthill led us into a storage room that was empty of everything except for cots, folded up and placed neatly along the walls, out of the way.
There was a man kneeling in the middle of the floor, snapping the locks closed on a long rifle case. He turned his head at the sound of our steps and I could see that he had brilliant blue eyes, snapping and intelligent. The lines that appeared as his face crinkled into a smile added depth to an already handsome face.
“Father.” The man inclined his head toward Father Forthill as he rose and then turned his attention to Nate and I. He was tall, at least six foot and some change, and under the loose workman's clothes I recognized a well muscled figure. Michael moved with an unconscious grace and an obvious sense of self-assurance. “Michael Carpenter.” He held out his hand.
Nathan, his eyes squinted down somehow so that it looked as if they were naturally smaller in his face than they were, grunted and gave Michael a bone crunching handshake. It didn't seem to phase the man. When Nate released him he turned to me. “And you are?”
“Harry.” I didn't engage in a pissing contest. Even if I couldn't beat this Mr. Carpenter in mean strength, I could crush him in half a dozen different ways before he could blink. I didn't have anything to prove here. “Nice to meet you. The guy doing a Cujo impersonation over there is Nate. Don't mind him, he very rarely ever really bites anyone anymore.” I pulled my hand out of his grip. “Not since he graduated top of his class at obedience school.”
“Harry...Dresden?”
“Yeah.” I knew my tone was suspicious, but I didn't try to change it. My mind ran through the possible places he could have found out my name. The locals? No. They were too frightened, too close to one another to start telling tales to mundanes. And I knew that Michael didn't have an ounce of magical talent anywhere in his body. So that wasn't a real likely possibility. The most likely place was the one that didn't raise my paranoia hackles.
“Father Forthill's mentioned you several times, over dinner. I'm very glad to finally get a chance to meet you.” Michael smiled and it was genuine. I smiled back while Nate looked dour and disapproving. “From what I hear, you're one of the most dedicated volunteers the Father has ever had.” I laughed and blushed a bit.
“Well, it's kind of become a habit.” I glanced over at Father Forthill and he smiled. “Helping around the church is really interesting. And he feeds me sometimes too.”
“He does that.” Michael slid the strap of the rifle case over his shoulder and shifted it until it lay comfortably. “Truth be told, I've been trying to get him to extend an invitation to you. My wife, Charity and I would love to have you and a friend over for dinner one night. To thank you for helping out around here.” He sighed and gave a smile that was both rueful and resigned. A sort of 'what are you going to do?' look. “My family and I help out as much as we can, but there's always more work than there are willing hands.”
“I...” I looked over at Nate. He was still doing his dumb thug impression and gave me no help at all. “I'll have to ask.” I bit the inside of my cheek. That sounded terrible. Who the hell would a grown man have to ask about dinner? No one. “I mean, check about a good day and everything.”
“Of course. Here,” He pulled a business card from one pocket and handed it to me. It was relatively plain, just M & C Carpenter, Inc. embossed on the face along an address and a phone number. “That's my office number there. Give me a call when you know what will work best and we'll work something out.” He turned back to Father Forthill. “Father. Thank you for your help. I'll be in touch.”
“Of course. Though, if you could wait a moment?” Father Fortill turned to me. “Harry, have you seen anyone suspicious around the church lately? Or noticed anything out of the ordinary?”
“No. Why? Is something missing?” He and Michael exchanged a look.
“Not missing, no. A few weeks ago I found a very old coin in one of the donation boxes. I'm trying to track down the original owner, to make certain that they intended to donate it. It appears to be very valuable.”
I could feel that ancient looking coin walking across the backs of my knuckles, the light reacting weirdly to the dull patina that covered it.
“I don't suppose you saw anyone bring it in, or drop it?”
“No.” The word came out without going through the intermediary of my brain. It came from deep inside of me, somewhere I didn't recognize existed until that moment. “I don't think so anyway. Can I see it?”
“I'm afraid I've sent it away to be locked up. But I'm sure you'd remember something like this. It was quite dirty and worn, ancient as I said, with a clear mark on one side as if someone had written in the dirt covering it.”
“Sorry. I don't remember seeing anything even remotely antique looking.” I could see the coin clearly in my minds eye, blackened with age and dirt, thinned out from fingers rubbing across one side of it over and over again. It couldn't be what Father Forthill was looking for though. It was...different. Yes. Different. Not something that Father Forthill needed to worry about, and certainly not something that Michael Carpenter needed to hear about.
Father Forthill sighed and Michael nodded. I thought they both looked relieved.
“It was nice to meet you Harry. Nate. I look forward to seeing you again.” He nodded at the both of us and then he was gone.
“Right then.” Father Forthill tugged at his clerical collar, pulling the stiff white strip loose and popping the first two buttons on his shirt open. “If you boys are ready? I've got about two tons of donated food and clothing to go through.”
~
Fic: The Life We Make 6b/?
“This man, Carpenter? What was he like?”
“Didn't get much of an impression for him. He was on his way out when we came in. They were hiding something though. Carpenter was carrying around a rifle case, but I'd lay even odds that there wasn't a rifle in it. Even if there was, who carries a rifle around in a church?”
“Look into him.” I could hear the creak of John's chair as he shifted in it and then the clink of ice in a glass, slow and soft because of the liquid it sat in. He was drinking, which wasn't usual for John. He didn't ever do anything that put him out of control, even by a fraction. “There was nothing else? Nothing unusual?”
“Not that I noticed.” I could imagine Nate's face, the introspective look he got when he was trying to make sure that his words were framed carefully. “What's going on?”
“Nothing. There's nothing going on.”
“John, you are a shit liar.”
“I happen to know that that's not true at all.”
“To me it is. What's up?”
“I thought-” He sighed and laughed a little. “I'm worried about Harry is all. He took finding that body worse than I would have imagined. Maybe I've pushed him too hard to become involved with the occult community. He didn't want to do it. Perhaps I should have listened.”
“Yeah, you should have. But it's good for Harry to get out, to have friends that aren't us, or one of the guys. So let it go already. Harry's doing well, and he'll get over the body. It's a different kind of thing from what he's seen before. Sure he's been in fights with us, and before us, with that asshole DuMorne from what he's said. Just finding a body like that though, when you're not expecting it? And knowing that the man who did the killing is out there and gunning for you? It'll prey of him for a while but he'll adjust. He's young and he's not as hard as we are. Thank God.”
“You're right. As always. I should talk to you before I go working myself up to paranoid guilt, shouldn't I?” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I wondered if Nate could tell that it was fake.
It would get better though. I'd make sure of it. The dream had been nothing, a weird, subconscious fluke. John and I would find our balance again and everything would go back to normal.
~
Nothing went back to normal. It all just got worse.
I kept up my efforts in the local community, which was a little awkward at first. Trying to 'look normal' like John said while keeping my eye out for Sells or anyone that might be working with him. The increased bodyguard presence didn't help much either.
It did get better after I spoke with Monica Sells again. John had sent me and some of the boys over to her place to explain what was really going on. A small demonstration of magic and she had had a small breakdown. About five minutes after that she'd picked herself up out of the chair and taken control. Wanted to know what she could do to protect herself and her children. I explained John's 'witness protection' plan and then a little about how magic ran in families. It wasn't a solid fact by any stretch. Most magic ran along the matrilineal lines, but there was a possibility. Especially if magic ran in her own family. Even though she didn't have it to wield, she could be a 'carrier' of sorts. Combine that with her husbands obvious magical talents and then his practice of it, her children were possibilities.
Monica Sells' horror at the thought of one of her children turning out like their father had been palpable. Not the magic, though she was understandably leery of that, but the darkness. Children of abusers are, given the right circumstances, more likely to become abusive themselves. Did that carry over into magic? Did children of black wizards have a propensity for black magic themselves, given the right pressures? I hoped not. I explained the Council's apprentice system to her and gave her a number to reach me at if anything happened with her kids. We'd make sure that they learned the right kind of magic.
Other jobs appeared, one at a time, small and odd sorts of things. Mostly training a few half-powered practitioners the best way to ward their houses, to set up little glamors and the like. It was good work. Interesting and it made me flex some muscles that I hadn't used in a while. I enjoyed teaching them and it reminded me of Father Forthill's idea of me finding work as a teacher. It might have been nice, but it was another one of those things that would never happen. I couldn't have used the computer systems at any school reliably in the first place. I'd keep blowing them out and schools couldn't afford to keep replacing things because of me.
So I focused on the things I could teach to the people who were willing to learn. I set up a little class in Mac's pub two nights a week. No practical, because I didn't want to get kicked out of Mac's for destroying his bar, just magical theory. That led to a few encounters with kids who were just coming into their powers.
Two of them were strong enough for the Council. Or they would be, once they got older. I'd gotten them together with the head of the training branch of the Council, an older wizard named Frederich Claus. He'd actually thanked me, which had shocked me speechless. It all felt good, but it did nothing to distract me from my real problem.
Whatever had changed in me, shifted or broken, it didn't fix itself. I was spending a lot of time with Nate. He and I worked on his thesis, with me playing research assistant, or he tried to help me find a way to deal with the assholes on the Council. I had mixed results with his ideas, but they were better than mine, which tended toward tossing the whole idea for a bad lot and going back to pretending that the Council didn't exist.
In spite of everything that I tried, the idea of Nate, this new idea of him as something other than my friend wouldn't leave. I looked forward to everything a little bit more when he was involved. I wanted to ask his thoughts on things as often as I wanted to ask John's. It tore at me in my waking moments, the betrayal that I was living inside of my own heart.
But the pain of it changed nothing. It took me a month to admit it. I was falling in love with Nate. I hated myself for it. If it ever came out, I'd lose everything and destroy John and Nate in the process. So I threw myself into solitary work when I was at home – the staff I was trying to make. It was complex, and without another wizard to guide me through the process, I had to rely on what I remembered from Ebenezar's lessons. There were a lot of false starts.
And I dove into John. Into the bond between us, though I did my best to shield my traitorous thoughts and urges from him. I thought that if I could surround myself with John and only John that there would eventually be no room for the thoughts of Nate.
Only, I was still dreaming about Nate. Sometimes it was Nate and John, together. Sometimes it was just Nate. Most often though, it was Nate and John fucking me. I would wake, hard and desperate for release, or sticky and wet with my own come, shame and arousal mingled. I vowed over and over to fight harder and get my thoughts back under control.
I owed John a hell of a lot more than faithlessness. I loved John and I owed him everything. Something had to change.
~
"Okay." I looked up from the old spell book I was flipping through. It was written in old English, so the going was a little tough, but I thought the potion I was looking at would make me lighter than air. It could be useful, maybe. Some day. And it was at the very least distracting me from the hell my personal life was threatening to descend into and my inability to complete a wizards staff. Nate was standing in the doorway of my lab, his arms crossed and a half belligerent look on his face. I hadn't heard the door open or him come in. That wasn't good either. Most of the guys respected the warnings on the lab, sure. But there's always that new guy. I'd hate to have to explain to John why his newest flunkie was completely bald and speaking in tongues. Again. "What's the deal with you and John lately?"
"There's no deal. Nothing's going on." I slammed the book closed and leaned against the desk, trying to look annoyed, which I was, and not at all thrilled to have been interrupted. Which was mostly true. Except for the part where it was Nate, so I wasn't all that irritated.
"Bull. Shit." He strolled into the lab and shut the door behind him. Dammit. If I moved to open the door, it would look weird. "You've been throwing yourself at John for the past couple of weeks. Not the normal stuff, where I catch the two of you making out in the back of the car or where ever. I'm never going to get the image of the two of you fucking on the balcony out of my head. Never. And John's been more of a nut job about you than usual. He's either dragging you around behind him all day or I've got to be on your ass."
I couldn't help it. I groaned. It was silly and juvenile, but the words conjured up flashes of images. Fantasies. Nate had no idea what he was doing to me.
"So you want to tell me what's going on, or do I have to make you tell me?" Uh. My brain short circuited for a brief second. Dammit. I was not a teenager anymore. I was an adult. An adult who was getting plenty of sex. I should not be this distracted by the vaguest hints of sex related thoughts.
"There's nothing going on! Now could you please leave so I can get back to what I was doing?"
"Important, is it?"
"Yes."
"What is it?" He wandered over and pulled the book to him, flipping it open and thumbing through the pages.
"It's a potion to negatively impact the effects of Earth's gravitational field on the human body." Nate snorted.
"You're trying to fly again, aren't you?"
"...no..." I could feel my face heating up a bit. Nate laughed. He had a huge, booming laugh. It was just free and natural. John never laughed, not like that. His amusement was a quiet thing, something felt more than heard. I couldn't help but smile and laugh a little bit with Nate.
"What is it with wizards and trying to fly?"
"It's classic. Every story ever has a wizard that can fly. And I think it pisses us off, collectively, that we really can't do it very well. I've found plenty of potions that let you float, theoretically, but nothing about flight. Real, free, powered flight." I hopped, getting as much air as I could. It wasn't a whole hell of a lot, given my height and the relative height of the ceiling. "Humans have always wanted to fly and wizards aren't any different. Why do you think angels are always depicted with wings? Because it's cool."
"Right up until you hit a low flying plane or something." Nate could move quick for someone so large and he had caught my wrist before I even knew he was moving. I went still, out of reflex. "Harry. We're friends, right? Not just because of John. But us."
"Yeah. Of course."
"So you know you can talk to me, if you need to. I mean, I know we're guys and so we're not supposed to discuss anything at all, ever. But we're smarter than that." He smiled again. "Are you and John having problems or..." He went a little red. Which was cute. "You know."
"John and I are patently incapable of having problems. Remember?" I tapped on the collar. "All potential problems are quickly and easily solved by virtue of John always being right."
Nate frowned.
"He doesn't use it like that, does he?"
Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
"He is a slick bastard. Always has been. This one time, we would have been maybe six? He convinced this old man down the hall to let us take his television apart. John just wanted to see how it worked, and this poor guy...I don't know what he thought in the end. But John had him convinced we could put it back together and it would work better than it did before. John's mom had to buy him a new tv." Nate chuckled and shook his head. "She was pissed. Took it out of both of our asses. And she made John go over there, apologize, and carry his groceries up for him every week for two months."
"I'd have liked to meet her. Anybody that could make John do something he didn't want to do must have been something."
"She was. Fierce." Nate's eyes were a little sad when he smiled. "She'd have liked you too, I think. She and John are a lot alike. They both know what's best and they're very protective of what's theirs." I could see him push the memories away and decide to get back on topic. "John's not so tough, really." I snorted.
"Bull. Shit."
"I keep telling you, you've just got to know how to handle him." He'd never let go of my wrist and he squeezed, gently. "There's something going on Harry. I know there is. I can't help you guys if neither one of you will talk to me."
Tell him. Take his help. It was like a voice, quiet and sure. Mine, but not mine. It whispered through my mind and I shivered. I couldn't tell Nate everything, but maybe I could tell him something.
"You know how the collar works?"
"Sort of. I know it gives John control over you somehow. He's never been really forthcoming with the details. I think he's worried someone'll figure out a way to use it against you."
"Yeah. Well, it lets him impose his will over mine, basically. He orders me to do something, I have to do it. That's not a big deal. John doesn't use it that way, not like he could. It was worse, in the beginning, before we figured out...everything. When I was still scared and fighting the world.
"The other part of it, the tricky part, is that there's this weird bond. It ties the two of us together. And sometimes, a lot of the time, emotions and pieces of thoughts, fragments of things, they leak through. It's not precise and it's pretty uncontrollable. We've figured out how to block it, most of the time. But strong things will still leak through, or when we're asleep."
Nate was nodding slowly, a hint of understanding coming into his face.
“That's not a lot of privacy. How does it- is it hard to sort out what's you and what's John? Inside your head.”
“Not really. It's like...just like listening to a conversation, or a monologue, only with emotions and some visuals thrown in. And it doesn't happen all the time. I think we'd go crazy, or I'd lose myself in John if that happened. He's got the upper hand, after all.”
“Right. Okay.” Nate's thumb rubbed slowly back and forth over the inside of my wrist. I thought about pulling away, but didn't. It didn't seem like Nate even realized he was doing it and it felt good. Not sexual, just welcome and soothing. “And?”
“And I've been...having dreams. About someone who is not John.”
“Oh.” Nate's hand froze on my arm and then he stepped away, moving to pace along the far wall of the room. “I get it now. You think these dreams are leaking over to John.”
“He's been stressed out since they started. It makes sense.”
“It does.” Nate cut his eyes over to me. “Don't get pissed, but...it's just dreams, right? You're not...” He shook his head and laughed, ruefully. “Of course not. Sorry.”
“No. No. It's a good question. But no. I'm not. I wouldn't do that to John. You know that. Do you think he does?”
“If he's thinking with the front part of his brain, yeah. The only problem being he doesn't always think with the front part of his brain where you're concerned. He gets all neolithic.”
“I had noticed.” The bruises on my wrists and ankles kept reminding me too. Pleasant, low throbs of pain when I pressed against them, reminding me of how deeply I could cut John without even trying. “It'll all settle out, in the end. It has to, you know? I'm not going to cheat on John and these dreams will go away eventually. Just a weird fluke of my subconscious.” I watched Nate as I said it, memorizing the lines of his face. It had to go back to normal. It had to.
“Do you want me to talk to John? Try and...” He waved his hands in the universal symbol for 'I don't know what I want to say here, but its meaning should be obvious'.
“No! Hells no!” I planted my face in my hands. “I can just see you trying to explain why I told you about my dreams and not John. He'd hate that almost as much as he'd hate me telling him. Maybe a little more.” 'Private business is private'. It was a cardinal rule. “Let's just go on with our lives.”
“Under the theory that if you ignore it it'll go away?”
“Yeah. Another great guy rule.”
“Pretty sure we don't have the corner on that particular market Harry.” I could feel Nate looking at me, though I refused to meet his gaze. He knew there was more, I was sure. Something that I wasn't telling him. Nate was too smart for our good.
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
(Anonymous) 2011-12-01 06:04 am (UTC)(link)Also, I'm wondering how this John reacts to anyone else trying to make a move on Harry.
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
I'm wondering how this John reacts to anyone else trying to make a move on Harry.
Badly.
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
(Anonymous) 2011-12-01 09:18 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
Nate is the best person in this universe, I swear.
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
And Lash being all manipulative and yet showing Harry were the chains of the collar are and teaching him to poke at them instead of accepting them. So much love for everyone!
I can't wait for John to figure out that Nate is the object of Harry's desires. Hell, I can't wait for Nate to figure out that he's the object of Harry's desires. He showed quite some restraint not asking who Harry was dreaming about. I so would have!
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
Nate didn't ask because if he knows then he's going to have to do something about the situation. Ignorance is bliss as far as he's concerned here. Or so he thinks.
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-04 01:42 am (UTC)(link)liking this.
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
When it's finished I'm going to put it up on AO3 and I'll drop a link here.
I'm glad you're liking it and I'm sorry for there being such a delay!
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
Re: Fic: The Life We Make 6c/?
(Anonymous) 2014-10-27 09:13 am (UTC)(link)I really enjoyed your bane/blake stories on Ao3 and then started searching through the rest of your work. Loved 'Lost in a Life' and was super excited when I found the sequal!
Can't wait to see where this leads: would love to see Nate figure out the truth about how much control John has over Harry. Very interesting dynamics