[fic] A Week of Conversations (Dresden/Marcone)
Title: A Week of Conversations
Fandom: The Dresden Files (Dresden/Marcone, ensemble cast)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5337
Disclaimer: This is a not-for-profit derivative fanwork of copyrighted materials owned by the Jim Butcher.
Prompt: For lgbtfest prompt #1356 The Dresden Files, Harry Dresden, People have been kidding Harry Dresden about being gay for a while. Now Harry's come to terms with his bisexuality and fallen for a man, and while some of his family and friends can deal with this, others are having a plethora of problems--and causing a number of them as well.
Spoilers: No specific spoilers; this is set after Small Favor and before Turn Coat.
Summary: It's one thing to decide you're not going to hide your relationship. It's another to convince your friends, family, and associates that you're serious.
A/N: Thanks to beachkid for the beta reading and encouragement.
A Week of Conversations
Sunday
Harry Dresden wasn't used to waking up on a Sunday afternoon well-rested and pleasantly sore. He definitely wasn't used to waking up with his head pillowed on someone's chest. Especially not when that chest was firm, broad, scarred, and not in the slightest bit female. He supposed that at some point these things would stop surprising him, but not yet, and he pressed his advantage further by turning his face to place a sleepy, open-mouthed kiss on said chest. He felt more than heard the rumbled, "Good morning."
"Afternoon, I think," Harry mumbled, snaking one long arm over to the beside table for a watch. "Is anyone going to be missing you?" So far the pleasure of waking up together had been a rare thing, dictated by schedules and keeping up appearances and, admittedly, the occasional monster, which was more Harry's problem.
"Not yet," he sounded amused and it was damn sexy combined with his early morning growl. "Why, did you have plans?"
Harry forced himself to focus, dropping the watch back onto the table and huffing a dissatisfied sigh. "It's been three weeks. We can't keep this a secret forever."
"Do you intend to continue this long term?" The amusement was gone from his lover's tone, and Harry looked up into intense green eyes.
"Don't you?"
"Of course."
"I won't be your dirty little secret." He meant to keep it light hearted, mouth twisted into a smirk, melodramatic emphasis on the cliche, but he had a feeling it fell flat, a little too close to home. He could feel the rumble of laughter under his cheek anyway. He glanced up again and the laughter faded into a fond smile.
"I know. I don't intend to hide if you don't. I'll make arrangements this week."
"This week," Harry agreed, then allowed himself to be distracted.
Monday
Harry Dresden was prepared for one of the most awkward conversations of his depressingly awkward adulthood. He was going to talk to a woman about his feelings, and while he had become relatively adept at working with women over the last decade, he still felt like an inept teenager with them emotionally. Which, come to think about it, was kind of the point.
Murphy slid into the diner booth across from him and immediately grabbed the coffee he'd ordered for her. She spoke between long gulps. "Alright, I'm here. We got a case?"
"Nope, all's quiet on the case front, where by 'quiet' I mean 'probably the end of the world in a clever disguise.' Nothing important, anyway." Lost items, the occasional possession, a localized demon outbreak, that kind of thing.
"Yeah? So what's this, a social visit? I've got a schedule to keep you know." Murph didn't look annoyed, she looked intrigued, which meant she knew he had something on his mind. He needed to get some less perceptive friends.
Harry busied himself with his coffee and then looked pointedly at her left eyebrow. "What's the CPD's stance on same-sex couples?"
Murph looked blankly at him for a moment, then answered carefully. "The City of Chicago's hate crime statute is sexual orientation inclusive. We make an effort to investigate and prosecute all--"
Harry waved his hand almost impatiently, cutting her off. "What about officers in same-sex relationships? Or consultants?" He let the questions hang in the air. It was interesting how valiantly Murphy's eyebrows were attempting to merge with her hair-line.
"Harry Dresden, what are you, in your typically obscure fashion, trying to say to me?"
"Uhh," Harry was at his most eloquent when faced with Murphy's amusement at his expense. "I met someone?" he tried.
"Someone... male?" she prompted.
"Yes, someone male. And, somehow, miraculously, we haven't yet maimed, killed, or otherwise destroyed each other." He paused and switched his gaze to her right cheekbone. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"
"Is he a vampire, possessed, imaginary, or presumed dead?"
"Definitely not."
"Then he already has more going for him than any of your exes."
"Seriously, Karrin."
"Seriously, Harry. And about the force, I promise dating a man will be the least of anyone's problems with you, Wizard for hire. Which reminds me, I need you to sign these public property damage reports."
~~~
John was almost ready when Hendricks knocked on the apartment door at seven in the morning. He stepped out into the icy Chicago morning, still adjusting his tie. He met the flat look of his bodyguard and raised his eyebrows in mute rebuke. It was Hendricks's job to know where he was and to protect him; it was not his job to pass judgment. Certainly he'd worked for John for enough years that he couldn't be wholly surprised. There had been a time before John had had so much responsibility; a time when he'd been able to indulge his preferences with only the barest of concern for discretion.
"You gonna make a habit of this, Boss?" Hendricks asked once they were safely in the sleek town car.
Ah. It was the repetition, not the act itself that concerned the larger man. "Yes, Hendricks, I believe I might." He was old enough and established enough that he deserved some reward, after all.
Hendricks grunted noncommittally from the driver's seat.
"Is there a problem?"
"I hope not, Boss. I'll start taking extra precautions."
"We aren't incapable of defending ourselves." And in this day and age, John allowed himself to be optimistic enough to hope that they wouldn't have to, not really.
Hendricks met his eyes in the rear-view mirror and said, "Of course, Boss," in that tone that meant he was being humored.
Tuesday
"Harry!" Bob the Skull was practically dancing on his pile of romance novels. "You have a hickey!" He sounded delighted.
Harry jerked the collar of his flannel robe up to try to hide both the line of bruises down the side of his neck as well as his rising blush. "Don't be stupid, Bob," he grumbled. He expected it sounded less annoyed and more embarrassed than he would have liked. "I got jumped by a tentacle demon." The lie sounded hollow even to him.
"I'll just bet you did!" Bob cackled. "Have you been reading my Japanese porn again, Harry?"
"Shut up, Bob."
"No, really; it's about time you got laid again! Give an incorporeal spirit a thrill, Harry ol' pal. What was she like?"
"About six feet tall and packing heat," Harry snapped.
Bob's jaw snapped just with a click that was loud enough to echo. "Harry," he said, somehow managing to sound breathy and awed without actually having breath. "Did you sleep with the Valkyrie?"
"What?! No!" Harry found himself involuntarily glancing around, as if Ms. Gard might somehow have overheard.
"A cop?"
"Bob," Harry growled, finally sounding annoyed rather than embarrassed.
"A tranny?"
"Bob!" He was going to have to check over Bob's reading material more carefully.
"You're blushing again, Harry!" the skull sing-songed. "Was she a hot drag queen? Was it lust at first sight?"
"I did not sleep with a drag queen," Harry ground out, irritated. "I slept with a man."
"Hot damn, Dresden!" Bob was gleeful. "I didn't think you had it in you-- did you have it in you, Harry? Did--" Bob cut off with a shriek as a hammer whizzed by him and knocked over a stack of books.
~~~
"Mr. Marcone, I have one more thing to add to the agenda," Ms. Gard looked, as always, the consummate professional. They had spent over two hours going over security procedures for his next trip into the Nevernever, and Gard looked as cool and as poised as if she had just sat down at the table. It was one of her best qualities as an employee: unflappable reliability.
"Certainly, Ms. Gard."
"It has come to my attention that you have been having liaisons of a personal nature with someone outside of the organization."
John had expected to discuss some aspect of his office wards, maybe a report on the new safehouse she was building. He was, to say the least, caught off-guard by her agenda item. That unsettled him. He went to great lengths to make sure that he was rarely unsettled or caught off balance. His shock must have shown on his face, much to his chagrin, because she continued, "I don't intend to comment on your personal affairs, Mr. Marcone, except where they concern your security.
"Due to the nature of romantic relationships and the security risk posed by intimacy, it is vital that you either conduct future liaisons in your own protected locations, or allow me to set up appropriate wards and precautions at the lady's home." John listened in bemused silence, fighting to control his urge to either laugh or, for the first time in years and years, melt into the floor in embarrassment.
"There is also the issue of potential children and succession, which faeries take very seriously, and many of your enemies will try to use against you."
John finally snapped out of his mute shock at that line of reasoning. "Thank you for your concern and your, ah, thoroughness, Ms. Gard, but none of this is necessary."
"I assure you, Mr. Marcone, I wouldn't bring it up if it were not necessary. If I didn't address it on previous security assessments, it is because it's only recently become an issue. I know that current technology allows relative safety from unplanned heirs, but--"
John waved her quiet. She broke off with an affronted, icy look. He regretted offending her, but letting her go on would be worse.
"Pardon the interruption, Ms. Gard; you are missing key information. My partner," it was the first time he'd used the word in this context, and he was quietly proud of himself for not stumbling over it, "can take care of our safety when we're in his space."
To the Valkyrie's credit, she recovered quickly. "I see. And you think I should trust your safety to him why?"
"You have before," John answered simply.
He could tell when the pieces clicked together because her eyes went slightly wide and her mouth went thin. "I see," she said again. "I will still be arranging a security assessment."
John nodded his assent; it was important to choose your battles, after all. "If that will be all?"
"Yes, Mr. Marcone. I'll have those reports for you by the end of the week."
Wednesday
Harry hadn't really been intentionally avoiding his brother, but avoiding awkward conversations had been high on his priority list before this week. There were some things you just couldn't hide from a White Court vampire.
He should have been less surprised when Thomas accepted his invitation over for beer and showed up at his door with a six-pack of Mac's latest brown ale. "Harry, you've been hiding," Thomas scolded, shutting the door with the ease of super strength.
"Oh, like you can talk," Harry grumbled, accepting the beer and slumping into the kitchen, shoulders creeping steadily towards his ears as he felt Thomas studying him. "You never call, you never write...."
"Don't be ridiculous; here I am!"
"Yeah, yeah, and you brought beer," Harry eyed him with over-done suspicion, "what do you want?"
"Only the pleasure of your astoundingly genteel company." Thomas responded with an elaborate bow.
"Oh, I'm sure." He carried the beer back to the sagging sofa and collapsed onto it. Somehow, Thomas, who had almost the same lanky build, managed to make the same move look graceful and languid. Supernatural strength and grace was good for something, Harry figured. "How have you been?"
Thomas accepted the beer, but didn't answer, instead studying Harry carefully. "Harry, I am shocked-- you got laid, baby brother!"
"Damnit," Harry cursed. So much for controlling the conversation. "Yes, okay, I got laid. I don't know why this is everyone else's business."
"Oooh, defensive!" Thomas's face relaxed and he smiled in a way that really ought to be outlawed for indecency. "She must be a bad girl."
It had been a hell of a week and it was barely half through. First Murphy, then Bob. Harry just wasn't in the mood for another rehash. "Before you get too attached to your 'Harry finally landed a chick' speech, you should know that I'm dating a man." He took a long pull of his beer while Thomas struggled not to spit his out.
"What?!" His brother was staring at him like he'd never seen him before. "Harry, I pride myself on knowing these things, and I didn't really think... I mean, experimenting is one thing, but dating? Really?"
Harry sighed. "Yes, really. And no, I've never been with a man before. And yes, I'm sure that it's what I want right now." He had been rehearsing these conversations in his mind over the week, for longer, really, but it had only very recently become relevant.
"Only right now?" Thomas asked, recovering some of his poise and raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Right now and for as much of the future as I can see, yes. I'm, except for dealing with everyone's reactions, happy."
Thomas gave that some consideration, keeping his level gaze on Harry. "Who is 'everyone?'"
"Murphy, Bob guessed, and I've got to tell Molly and Michael, and probably Ramirez." Harry sighed. "I'd rather not, but Molly's going to find out regardless, and I'd hate for Carlos to figure it out in the middle of a fight and lose an arm because he's too busy staring at me."
"You're probably right," Thomas agreed. He leaned forward and the teasing glint was back in his eyes. "So, do I know the lucky guy?"
Harry waited until Thomas was in the middle of a long swig of beer before answering. He and Thomas had missed so many chances to put milk up each other's noses as kids. "Yeah. It's John Marcone." Harry hadn't known vampires could turn red from coughing, and he didn't even try to keep himself from laughing at the sight of his brother drenched in snorted beer and glaring.
After they'd both recovered, Thomas was still glaring. "You did that on purpose."
Harry grinned back, all teeth. "Oh yeah, that was the most fun I've had all week."
"Sounds like a problem you should take up with your mobster boyfriend."
Harry knew that he was blushing and that it was probably making the fading hickeys stand out. "Maybe I will."
Thomas shook his head, "Damn, Harry. Gentleman John Marcone. I'm not sure whether to congratulate you or check you for possession."
"Both, maybe," Harry admitted, and changed the subject to Thomas's business, and how at least this gave credibility to their cover story. His brother didn't look satisfied, exactly, but he let it go.
~~~
John set the hour after dinner aside to make calls. It was helpful that Harry was already on the access list to all of his clubs and restaurants; it reduced the work load on his assistant, who was taking care of making sure that the wizard would be able to contact him regardless of where he was.
He called Ms. Blaine, who managed his house, and was grateful for her professionalism, as he had been so many times in the past, when she noted Harry's preferences in schedule and meals and then agreed to rearrange the electronics in certain rooms of the house. He put the phone down and was about to pick it up again when his assistant buzzed in.
"Mr. Marcone, there's a Thomas Raith here to see you."
John closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before responding. "Send him in, Sophia."
He stood in polite welcome as the door opened. "Mr. Raith--" He didn't get a chance to finish.
Raith moved with unnatural speed and John reeled backwards almost before he knew he'd been hit. The sting and sharp pain on the left side of his jaw were quick to inform him that the vampire had, in fact, punched him. He flexed his wrists to trip the spring-loaded sheaths up his sleeves, then put the knives away just as quickly. He held his hands up in supplication and looked his lover's older brother square in the eye. "Can we talk now?"
For a moment, Raith like he was going to pop him another one, but settled for scowling darkly and looming uncomfortably close. "What kind of game are you playing, Marcone?" Raith's eyes were shining silver and John found himself reacting to the purr in the vampire's voice in spite of himself.
John took a sharp step back to try to reestablish his boundaries. Unfortunately, his desk chair was still there, and he sat abruptly, having knocked his own knees out from under himself. Raith looked all too smug and John had to remind himself that knifing Harry's relative was not a good strategy. He waved Hendricks out of the doorway with a subtle flick of his fingers.
"By all means," Raith purred, "stay seated. Tell me what you're doing with Harry Dresden."
John couldn't help but raise his eyebrows and smirk a little, "Do you really want me to answer that question, Mr. Raith?"
"Don't get cute with me; it won't work. Third and last time: what's with the sudden interest in men, specifically, Harry?"
"You are operating under a misapprehension, Mr. Raith. My interest in men is not at all sudden. For that matter, neither is my interest in your brother, whom I have admired for years."
Raith's eyes visibly widened when John used the word 'brother,' but he recovered quickly. "You're telling me that you're gay, you've always been gay, and no one has noticed this before?"
John spread his hands in a shrug. "People see what they want to see, Mr. Raith. You of all people should know that. And most people realize that it's not a good idea to remember what they used to laugh about behind Johnny Marcone's back when he was a button man for the old outfit."
"If you are bullshitting me, if you hurt him, I'm coming after you and all the security in the world won't keep me from you."
Raith was probably right, but John didn't even flinch. "You are welcome to try, Mr. Raith. I think it's probably best if we don't mention this interlude to Harry."
"Yeah. Probably not. I guess this means I'll be seeing you around." Raith sounded begrudging, but the unnatural gleam was gone from his eyes.
"Count on it," John agreed. "Now, if you don't mind, I was in the middle of some paperwork. Sophia can see you out."
Thursday
It wasn't the kind of secret that Harry felt like he could ask Molly to keep from her family, so he decided to be proactive and tell Michael before he told her. She would have said their family, and the thought that he finally had Charity Carpenter's respect was still shocking. He hoped he wasn't on the fast track to losing it.
He accepted a cup of coffee from Michael and followed him into the living room, still not used to watching the once-powerful man limp.
After a pleasant half hour of meandering small talk about Molly, Michael's business, his physical therapy, and the other Carpenter children with no sign of Harry's manning up and getting to the point, Michael, as always, decided to help him out. "You said that there was something you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed. At least honesty was always easy with Michael, at least once Harry had resolved to be honest. "But I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it."
"Harry, you are my friend, you have protected my family, taken responsibility for my daughter on pain of death, and proven yourself to be a good man time and again. There is nothing that you could say or do to negate any of that. Whatever you feel the need to tell me, I will listen with love and compassion."
Harry took a deep breath and, in the face of that ringing, honest endorsement, answered in kind. "I'm seeing someone." He held up his hand to forestall Michael's immediate pleased reaction. "Someone I can never marry in the eyes of the Church."
"Do you love her?"
"I respect and admire and trust him; we haven't been seeing each other that long." Harry couldn't bring himself to look up to see his friend's expression.
There was a significant pause before Michael spoke again. It felt like an eternity. "Will you be bringing him to family dinner on Sunday so we can all meet him?"
Harry looked up in shock. "That's it?" He had been imagining disappointed lectures. Horrific Biblical examples. Something.
"What would you like me to say, Harry? Are you looking for shock? Recrimination? Absolution?
"Am I happy about this decision? No-- ideally, you'd come to church with us and meet a nice girl and have lots of babies, but that's my life. Your life is your own, and this is another choice that's different from mine. It's certainly not the only one the Church would withhold its blessing from.
"You are a good man, Harry Dresden, and I remain honored to call you friend."
Harry got something in his eye then and had to take a while to blink it out. He managed to express his thanks in a way that he hoped didn't sound completely pathetic and unworthy of his friend's faith in him.
"Now the only thing that remains is to determine whether your friend is a good man," Michael announced with good-natured cheer that suggested he was certain of a positive outcome.
"Ah, yeah. About that...." Sunday dinner was going to be interesting.
~~~
There were very few people John Marcone let himself be human around. It was an unfortunate reflection of the state of his genuine social life that one of them was in a coma.
"Hello, Amanda." He'd read that familiar voices could help coma patients, so he always talked when he visited, usually just inconsequential things; the minutia of his life, sanitized news of her mother, fairy tales inspired all too often by his real experiences. "It's been quite a week. It's not unusual for me to make decisions other people disagree with, it's the nature of my job, but it's always been business." Neither Hendricks nor Gard had given his ill-advised affair with Amanda's mother a second thought. "Truthfully, my whole life has been business since-- well, for quite a few years."
He smiled weakly. "This time, I made an unpopular decision about who to spend my personal time with. They won't quite come out and say it, but while the who of the matter worries them, it doesn't worry them as much as the fact that he's a man. It's just not done in my line of work. Not acknowledged, anyway.
"Maybe they're right. It's a terrible risk for both of us. Perhaps I've become foolish in my old age and the world hasn't changed as much as I'd like, but," his smile came easier that time, "he did rescue me from the evil dragon's lair. You remember that story." John touched the ragged edge of his ear. "That makes this traditional.
"I trust him and, in spite of everything, he makes me laugh." Admittedly, usually in shock, exasperation, or irritation, but the point stood. "I'm not going to give that up."
He and the nurses maintained the polite fiction that his visits occurred in absolute privacy, but John was sure the duty nurse gave his hand an extra squeeze as she shook it on his way out the door.
Friday
This was the last of the conversations Harry planned to have. He was sure that it wouldn't be the last one ever, but Ramirez was the last person on his mental list of 'people who need to know about my personal life.' He wasn't sure if it was a good thing that it would be a phone conversation.
Carlos answered on the second ring, and they went through the usual song and dance of identifying themselves. Literally a song, and Harry made a note to find out who was getting clever with the passwords. After getting through their reports and catching up on gossip from Edinburgh, Harry broke the usual cycle by saying, "There's one more thing, on a personal note."
"Aw, man, what'd you do now?"
"Nothing!" Harry said defensively. It was an automatic reaction; a survival instinct. He shook it off. "I mean, really, nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you, so you hear it from me and not down the gossip chain, I'm dating someone. A man."
"What?!" Carlos trailed off into an incomprehensible string of Spanish before switching back into English. "That's not funny, Harry."
"It wasn't a joke, Carlos."
"Dude, you can't be gay, that's so many kinds of not ok-- you're Harry Dresden! You-- ugh." Carlos sounded truly distressed.
"I'm not gay," Harry said with more patience than he realized he had. "But I am sleeping with a man."
"God, Harry! Shut up! I do not need this from you. That shit is gross and not right; you know how many times we've had to bunk up together during training? How am I going to deal with that?"
"You know, I'm definitely not gay for you, so you don't have to worry about it." Harry snapped. Well, there was only so far patience could take you.
The click of the line disconnecting seemed unnaturally loud. Harry stared at the phone. Carlos had hung up on him. "That could have gone better," he told the dead line before putting the receiver down.
~~~
"Johnny." The man walking into his office was a decade his senior, a smart mobster, and in charge of Marcone's property management in West Town. "I've heard some nasty rumors circulating."
"Did we have an appointment, Mr. Castiglione?" John asked pointedly. He had a feeling this meeting wasn't going to go well.
"Nah, Johnny," Frank said smugly, taking a seat after helping himself to a scotch, "but you're going to want to hear this." He paused for dramatic effect and John merely raised his eyebrows in mute inquiry. "Word on the street is you got yourself a new bit on the side and, you know how men talk, Johnny, word is you're steppin' out with a man. Now, everybody throws that shit around, of course, but some of us old timers, well, we remember you as a young man, Johnny. And ain't nobody sayin' you's a nancy, but we remember you had an eye for the pretty boys all those years ago, before you was anybody with a reputation to protect. So, maybe these younger guys are just talkin' out of their asses, but we old wise guys, we know the score. I came to say you best be careful, Johnny. You're not twenty-two anymore. You gotta act like you got some sense of propriety."
John listened the whole time without letting a single emotion show on his face. He knew because he was channeling all of his outrage and irritation at being condescended to by this underling into his white-knuckled fists, hidden safely under the desk.
"Frank," he said quietly, "are you presuming to comment on my personal life?"
"Nah, Johnny, not your real personal life. I'm just sayin', you gotta be careful if you're screwing some faggot."
John was on his feet and around the desk in moments, moving like a tightly-coiled spring had been released. He lifted Frank out of his twelve hundred dollar leather guest chair and held him by the lapels so that they were nose to nose.
"You are right," he said quietly, enunciating each word carefully. "I am not twenty-two anymore. I am vastly more capable of destroying the lives of people who threaten me and mine." Frank's eyes were wide and darting side-to-side in panic. John growled with primal satisfaction.
"You are not so old or so wise that you cannot be replaced-- now, you go and you can tell your peers who think they can use my past behavior to blackmail me that my personal life is my own concern and I am willing to defend my choices."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Marcone, no disrespect, sir, of course." The man was babbling and John dropped him in disgust.
"Get out of here, Frank, before I have to have Mr. Hendricks remove you." He nodded to his bodyguard who had appeared roughly three seconds after John's desk chair had hit the ground. He looked vaguely pleased and John supposed this little display assuaged his fears to some extent.
"Oh, and Frank?" he said to the man as he was scuttling out the door. "If anyone tries to take a potshot at my 'pretty boy,' I think they'll find that he's at least as dangerous as I am."
Saturday
It was dark before Mouse looked expectantly at the door and Harry jumped, then forced himself to take a deep breath and pick up his book again like a grown man instead of an over-excited fourteen year old. It was pointless; he only dropped it again when the knock sounded. Mouse looked at him and thumped his tail twice. Harry made a rude gesture at the dog and made himself walk calmly to the door. After a moment or three of struggling with the poorly-hung steel monstrosity, he wrenched it open to reveal Gentleman John Marcone in all his debonair glory. It would be intimidating how well he wore that suit, but Harry was too busy taking in his smile and the small overnight bag in his hand.
John lent a shoulder to shutting the door, and Harry should really have felt resentful rather than giddy to see the laughter in his money green eyes.
"Come here and remind me why I spent all week having the most uncomfortable conversations of my adult life," Harry groused once they'd gotten the bag set aside and had moved back into the sitting area.
"Was it really that bad?" John asked, laughing, before pushing him down onto the couch and following. He was shorter than Harry, but broad, and Harry delighted in the weight and strength of him.
"It was--"
Harry gasped as John started kissing his way from ear to collar bone murmuring a smug, "Don't mind me; you were saying?"
"Ah-- it was awkward-- dammit, John-- I had to tell someone I was attacked by a tentacle demon because of this!" Harry's hand had found its way into John's hair and he squeezed the nape of John's neck for emphasis.
John stopped; it was hard to get proper suction when he was laughing so hard. Harry flicked the side of the other man's neck lightly. "It's not that improbable!"
"Only you," John muttered, shaking his head. "Ms. Gard will be coming by to do a security assessment."
"And won't that be fun." Harry paused a beat, "Thomas may or may not stop by to threaten you and defend my honor," he admitted.
"I look forward to it," John answered, rich amusement in his deadpan tone. "Mr. Hendricks is afraid we're putting ourselves in danger."
"That's so sweet; I didn't know he cared! Should I send him a box of thank you Milk-Bones?"
"Dresden," John growled and bit his shoulder, hard.
"Ow! Okay!" Harry tried and failed to shove him off, resulting in a distracting scuffle and wrestling match that involved a lot more tongue than Harry remembered from school.
"Michael asked me to bring you to family dinner on Sunday," he said after they'd settled down again. "I may have neglected to mention to him and Murph exactly who exactly you were."
"That will be interesting." John sounded resigned.
"But worth it?" Harry said, thinking out loud as much as asking.
"Worth it," John said firmly and proceeded to make some very persuasive arguments without saying a word.
Feedback is love
Fandom: The Dresden Files (Dresden/Marcone, ensemble cast)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5337
Disclaimer: This is a not-for-profit derivative fanwork of copyrighted materials owned by the Jim Butcher.
Prompt: For lgbtfest prompt #1356 The Dresden Files, Harry Dresden, People have been kidding Harry Dresden about being gay for a while. Now Harry's come to terms with his bisexuality and fallen for a man, and while some of his family and friends can deal with this, others are having a plethora of problems--and causing a number of them as well.
Spoilers: No specific spoilers; this is set after Small Favor and before Turn Coat.
Summary: It's one thing to decide you're not going to hide your relationship. It's another to convince your friends, family, and associates that you're serious.
A/N: Thanks to beachkid for the beta reading and encouragement.
A Week of Conversations
Sunday
Harry Dresden wasn't used to waking up on a Sunday afternoon well-rested and pleasantly sore. He definitely wasn't used to waking up with his head pillowed on someone's chest. Especially not when that chest was firm, broad, scarred, and not in the slightest bit female. He supposed that at some point these things would stop surprising him, but not yet, and he pressed his advantage further by turning his face to place a sleepy, open-mouthed kiss on said chest. He felt more than heard the rumbled, "Good morning."
"Afternoon, I think," Harry mumbled, snaking one long arm over to the beside table for a watch. "Is anyone going to be missing you?" So far the pleasure of waking up together had been a rare thing, dictated by schedules and keeping up appearances and, admittedly, the occasional monster, which was more Harry's problem.
"Not yet," he sounded amused and it was damn sexy combined with his early morning growl. "Why, did you have plans?"
Harry forced himself to focus, dropping the watch back onto the table and huffing a dissatisfied sigh. "It's been three weeks. We can't keep this a secret forever."
"Do you intend to continue this long term?" The amusement was gone from his lover's tone, and Harry looked up into intense green eyes.
"Don't you?"
"Of course."
"I won't be your dirty little secret." He meant to keep it light hearted, mouth twisted into a smirk, melodramatic emphasis on the cliche, but he had a feeling it fell flat, a little too close to home. He could feel the rumble of laughter under his cheek anyway. He glanced up again and the laughter faded into a fond smile.
"I know. I don't intend to hide if you don't. I'll make arrangements this week."
"This week," Harry agreed, then allowed himself to be distracted.
Monday
Harry Dresden was prepared for one of the most awkward conversations of his depressingly awkward adulthood. He was going to talk to a woman about his feelings, and while he had become relatively adept at working with women over the last decade, he still felt like an inept teenager with them emotionally. Which, come to think about it, was kind of the point.
Murphy slid into the diner booth across from him and immediately grabbed the coffee he'd ordered for her. She spoke between long gulps. "Alright, I'm here. We got a case?"
"Nope, all's quiet on the case front, where by 'quiet' I mean 'probably the end of the world in a clever disguise.' Nothing important, anyway." Lost items, the occasional possession, a localized demon outbreak, that kind of thing.
"Yeah? So what's this, a social visit? I've got a schedule to keep you know." Murph didn't look annoyed, she looked intrigued, which meant she knew he had something on his mind. He needed to get some less perceptive friends.
Harry busied himself with his coffee and then looked pointedly at her left eyebrow. "What's the CPD's stance on same-sex couples?"
Murph looked blankly at him for a moment, then answered carefully. "The City of Chicago's hate crime statute is sexual orientation inclusive. We make an effort to investigate and prosecute all--"
Harry waved his hand almost impatiently, cutting her off. "What about officers in same-sex relationships? Or consultants?" He let the questions hang in the air. It was interesting how valiantly Murphy's eyebrows were attempting to merge with her hair-line.
"Harry Dresden, what are you, in your typically obscure fashion, trying to say to me?"
"Uhh," Harry was at his most eloquent when faced with Murphy's amusement at his expense. "I met someone?" he tried.
"Someone... male?" she prompted.
"Yes, someone male. And, somehow, miraculously, we haven't yet maimed, killed, or otherwise destroyed each other." He paused and switched his gaze to her right cheekbone. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"
"Is he a vampire, possessed, imaginary, or presumed dead?"
"Definitely not."
"Then he already has more going for him than any of your exes."
"Seriously, Karrin."
"Seriously, Harry. And about the force, I promise dating a man will be the least of anyone's problems with you, Wizard for hire. Which reminds me, I need you to sign these public property damage reports."
~~~
John was almost ready when Hendricks knocked on the apartment door at seven in the morning. He stepped out into the icy Chicago morning, still adjusting his tie. He met the flat look of his bodyguard and raised his eyebrows in mute rebuke. It was Hendricks's job to know where he was and to protect him; it was not his job to pass judgment. Certainly he'd worked for John for enough years that he couldn't be wholly surprised. There had been a time before John had had so much responsibility; a time when he'd been able to indulge his preferences with only the barest of concern for discretion.
"You gonna make a habit of this, Boss?" Hendricks asked once they were safely in the sleek town car.
Ah. It was the repetition, not the act itself that concerned the larger man. "Yes, Hendricks, I believe I might." He was old enough and established enough that he deserved some reward, after all.
Hendricks grunted noncommittally from the driver's seat.
"Is there a problem?"
"I hope not, Boss. I'll start taking extra precautions."
"We aren't incapable of defending ourselves." And in this day and age, John allowed himself to be optimistic enough to hope that they wouldn't have to, not really.
Hendricks met his eyes in the rear-view mirror and said, "Of course, Boss," in that tone that meant he was being humored.
Tuesday
"Harry!" Bob the Skull was practically dancing on his pile of romance novels. "You have a hickey!" He sounded delighted.
Harry jerked the collar of his flannel robe up to try to hide both the line of bruises down the side of his neck as well as his rising blush. "Don't be stupid, Bob," he grumbled. He expected it sounded less annoyed and more embarrassed than he would have liked. "I got jumped by a tentacle demon." The lie sounded hollow even to him.
"I'll just bet you did!" Bob cackled. "Have you been reading my Japanese porn again, Harry?"
"Shut up, Bob."
"No, really; it's about time you got laid again! Give an incorporeal spirit a thrill, Harry ol' pal. What was she like?"
"About six feet tall and packing heat," Harry snapped.
Bob's jaw snapped just with a click that was loud enough to echo. "Harry," he said, somehow managing to sound breathy and awed without actually having breath. "Did you sleep with the Valkyrie?"
"What?! No!" Harry found himself involuntarily glancing around, as if Ms. Gard might somehow have overheard.
"A cop?"
"Bob," Harry growled, finally sounding annoyed rather than embarrassed.
"A tranny?"
"Bob!" He was going to have to check over Bob's reading material more carefully.
"You're blushing again, Harry!" the skull sing-songed. "Was she a hot drag queen? Was it lust at first sight?"
"I did not sleep with a drag queen," Harry ground out, irritated. "I slept with a man."
"Hot damn, Dresden!" Bob was gleeful. "I didn't think you had it in you-- did you have it in you, Harry? Did--" Bob cut off with a shriek as a hammer whizzed by him and knocked over a stack of books.
~~~
"Mr. Marcone, I have one more thing to add to the agenda," Ms. Gard looked, as always, the consummate professional. They had spent over two hours going over security procedures for his next trip into the Nevernever, and Gard looked as cool and as poised as if she had just sat down at the table. It was one of her best qualities as an employee: unflappable reliability.
"Certainly, Ms. Gard."
"It has come to my attention that you have been having liaisons of a personal nature with someone outside of the organization."
John had expected to discuss some aspect of his office wards, maybe a report on the new safehouse she was building. He was, to say the least, caught off-guard by her agenda item. That unsettled him. He went to great lengths to make sure that he was rarely unsettled or caught off balance. His shock must have shown on his face, much to his chagrin, because she continued, "I don't intend to comment on your personal affairs, Mr. Marcone, except where they concern your security.
"Due to the nature of romantic relationships and the security risk posed by intimacy, it is vital that you either conduct future liaisons in your own protected locations, or allow me to set up appropriate wards and precautions at the lady's home." John listened in bemused silence, fighting to control his urge to either laugh or, for the first time in years and years, melt into the floor in embarrassment.
"There is also the issue of potential children and succession, which faeries take very seriously, and many of your enemies will try to use against you."
John finally snapped out of his mute shock at that line of reasoning. "Thank you for your concern and your, ah, thoroughness, Ms. Gard, but none of this is necessary."
"I assure you, Mr. Marcone, I wouldn't bring it up if it were not necessary. If I didn't address it on previous security assessments, it is because it's only recently become an issue. I know that current technology allows relative safety from unplanned heirs, but--"
John waved her quiet. She broke off with an affronted, icy look. He regretted offending her, but letting her go on would be worse.
"Pardon the interruption, Ms. Gard; you are missing key information. My partner," it was the first time he'd used the word in this context, and he was quietly proud of himself for not stumbling over it, "can take care of our safety when we're in his space."
To the Valkyrie's credit, she recovered quickly. "I see. And you think I should trust your safety to him why?"
"You have before," John answered simply.
He could tell when the pieces clicked together because her eyes went slightly wide and her mouth went thin. "I see," she said again. "I will still be arranging a security assessment."
John nodded his assent; it was important to choose your battles, after all. "If that will be all?"
"Yes, Mr. Marcone. I'll have those reports for you by the end of the week."
Wednesday
Harry hadn't really been intentionally avoiding his brother, but avoiding awkward conversations had been high on his priority list before this week. There were some things you just couldn't hide from a White Court vampire.
He should have been less surprised when Thomas accepted his invitation over for beer and showed up at his door with a six-pack of Mac's latest brown ale. "Harry, you've been hiding," Thomas scolded, shutting the door with the ease of super strength.
"Oh, like you can talk," Harry grumbled, accepting the beer and slumping into the kitchen, shoulders creeping steadily towards his ears as he felt Thomas studying him. "You never call, you never write...."
"Don't be ridiculous; here I am!"
"Yeah, yeah, and you brought beer," Harry eyed him with over-done suspicion, "what do you want?"
"Only the pleasure of your astoundingly genteel company." Thomas responded with an elaborate bow.
"Oh, I'm sure." He carried the beer back to the sagging sofa and collapsed onto it. Somehow, Thomas, who had almost the same lanky build, managed to make the same move look graceful and languid. Supernatural strength and grace was good for something, Harry figured. "How have you been?"
Thomas accepted the beer, but didn't answer, instead studying Harry carefully. "Harry, I am shocked-- you got laid, baby brother!"
"Damnit," Harry cursed. So much for controlling the conversation. "Yes, okay, I got laid. I don't know why this is everyone else's business."
"Oooh, defensive!" Thomas's face relaxed and he smiled in a way that really ought to be outlawed for indecency. "She must be a bad girl."
It had been a hell of a week and it was barely half through. First Murphy, then Bob. Harry just wasn't in the mood for another rehash. "Before you get too attached to your 'Harry finally landed a chick' speech, you should know that I'm dating a man." He took a long pull of his beer while Thomas struggled not to spit his out.
"What?!" His brother was staring at him like he'd never seen him before. "Harry, I pride myself on knowing these things, and I didn't really think... I mean, experimenting is one thing, but dating? Really?"
Harry sighed. "Yes, really. And no, I've never been with a man before. And yes, I'm sure that it's what I want right now." He had been rehearsing these conversations in his mind over the week, for longer, really, but it had only very recently become relevant.
"Only right now?" Thomas asked, recovering some of his poise and raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Right now and for as much of the future as I can see, yes. I'm, except for dealing with everyone's reactions, happy."
Thomas gave that some consideration, keeping his level gaze on Harry. "Who is 'everyone?'"
"Murphy, Bob guessed, and I've got to tell Molly and Michael, and probably Ramirez." Harry sighed. "I'd rather not, but Molly's going to find out regardless, and I'd hate for Carlos to figure it out in the middle of a fight and lose an arm because he's too busy staring at me."
"You're probably right," Thomas agreed. He leaned forward and the teasing glint was back in his eyes. "So, do I know the lucky guy?"
Harry waited until Thomas was in the middle of a long swig of beer before answering. He and Thomas had missed so many chances to put milk up each other's noses as kids. "Yeah. It's John Marcone." Harry hadn't known vampires could turn red from coughing, and he didn't even try to keep himself from laughing at the sight of his brother drenched in snorted beer and glaring.
After they'd both recovered, Thomas was still glaring. "You did that on purpose."
Harry grinned back, all teeth. "Oh yeah, that was the most fun I've had all week."
"Sounds like a problem you should take up with your mobster boyfriend."
Harry knew that he was blushing and that it was probably making the fading hickeys stand out. "Maybe I will."
Thomas shook his head, "Damn, Harry. Gentleman John Marcone. I'm not sure whether to congratulate you or check you for possession."
"Both, maybe," Harry admitted, and changed the subject to Thomas's business, and how at least this gave credibility to their cover story. His brother didn't look satisfied, exactly, but he let it go.
~~~
John set the hour after dinner aside to make calls. It was helpful that Harry was already on the access list to all of his clubs and restaurants; it reduced the work load on his assistant, who was taking care of making sure that the wizard would be able to contact him regardless of where he was.
He called Ms. Blaine, who managed his house, and was grateful for her professionalism, as he had been so many times in the past, when she noted Harry's preferences in schedule and meals and then agreed to rearrange the electronics in certain rooms of the house. He put the phone down and was about to pick it up again when his assistant buzzed in.
"Mr. Marcone, there's a Thomas Raith here to see you."
John closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before responding. "Send him in, Sophia."
He stood in polite welcome as the door opened. "Mr. Raith--" He didn't get a chance to finish.
Raith moved with unnatural speed and John reeled backwards almost before he knew he'd been hit. The sting and sharp pain on the left side of his jaw were quick to inform him that the vampire had, in fact, punched him. He flexed his wrists to trip the spring-loaded sheaths up his sleeves, then put the knives away just as quickly. He held his hands up in supplication and looked his lover's older brother square in the eye. "Can we talk now?"
For a moment, Raith like he was going to pop him another one, but settled for scowling darkly and looming uncomfortably close. "What kind of game are you playing, Marcone?" Raith's eyes were shining silver and John found himself reacting to the purr in the vampire's voice in spite of himself.
John took a sharp step back to try to reestablish his boundaries. Unfortunately, his desk chair was still there, and he sat abruptly, having knocked his own knees out from under himself. Raith looked all too smug and John had to remind himself that knifing Harry's relative was not a good strategy. He waved Hendricks out of the doorway with a subtle flick of his fingers.
"By all means," Raith purred, "stay seated. Tell me what you're doing with Harry Dresden."
John couldn't help but raise his eyebrows and smirk a little, "Do you really want me to answer that question, Mr. Raith?"
"Don't get cute with me; it won't work. Third and last time: what's with the sudden interest in men, specifically, Harry?"
"You are operating under a misapprehension, Mr. Raith. My interest in men is not at all sudden. For that matter, neither is my interest in your brother, whom I have admired for years."
Raith's eyes visibly widened when John used the word 'brother,' but he recovered quickly. "You're telling me that you're gay, you've always been gay, and no one has noticed this before?"
John spread his hands in a shrug. "People see what they want to see, Mr. Raith. You of all people should know that. And most people realize that it's not a good idea to remember what they used to laugh about behind Johnny Marcone's back when he was a button man for the old outfit."
"If you are bullshitting me, if you hurt him, I'm coming after you and all the security in the world won't keep me from you."
Raith was probably right, but John didn't even flinch. "You are welcome to try, Mr. Raith. I think it's probably best if we don't mention this interlude to Harry."
"Yeah. Probably not. I guess this means I'll be seeing you around." Raith sounded begrudging, but the unnatural gleam was gone from his eyes.
"Count on it," John agreed. "Now, if you don't mind, I was in the middle of some paperwork. Sophia can see you out."
Thursday
It wasn't the kind of secret that Harry felt like he could ask Molly to keep from her family, so he decided to be proactive and tell Michael before he told her. She would have said their family, and the thought that he finally had Charity Carpenter's respect was still shocking. He hoped he wasn't on the fast track to losing it.
He accepted a cup of coffee from Michael and followed him into the living room, still not used to watching the once-powerful man limp.
After a pleasant half hour of meandering small talk about Molly, Michael's business, his physical therapy, and the other Carpenter children with no sign of Harry's manning up and getting to the point, Michael, as always, decided to help him out. "You said that there was something you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed. At least honesty was always easy with Michael, at least once Harry had resolved to be honest. "But I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it."
"Harry, you are my friend, you have protected my family, taken responsibility for my daughter on pain of death, and proven yourself to be a good man time and again. There is nothing that you could say or do to negate any of that. Whatever you feel the need to tell me, I will listen with love and compassion."
Harry took a deep breath and, in the face of that ringing, honest endorsement, answered in kind. "I'm seeing someone." He held up his hand to forestall Michael's immediate pleased reaction. "Someone I can never marry in the eyes of the Church."
"Do you love her?"
"I respect and admire and trust him; we haven't been seeing each other that long." Harry couldn't bring himself to look up to see his friend's expression.
There was a significant pause before Michael spoke again. It felt like an eternity. "Will you be bringing him to family dinner on Sunday so we can all meet him?"
Harry looked up in shock. "That's it?" He had been imagining disappointed lectures. Horrific Biblical examples. Something.
"What would you like me to say, Harry? Are you looking for shock? Recrimination? Absolution?
"Am I happy about this decision? No-- ideally, you'd come to church with us and meet a nice girl and have lots of babies, but that's my life. Your life is your own, and this is another choice that's different from mine. It's certainly not the only one the Church would withhold its blessing from.
"You are a good man, Harry Dresden, and I remain honored to call you friend."
Harry got something in his eye then and had to take a while to blink it out. He managed to express his thanks in a way that he hoped didn't sound completely pathetic and unworthy of his friend's faith in him.
"Now the only thing that remains is to determine whether your friend is a good man," Michael announced with good-natured cheer that suggested he was certain of a positive outcome.
"Ah, yeah. About that...." Sunday dinner was going to be interesting.
~~~
There were very few people John Marcone let himself be human around. It was an unfortunate reflection of the state of his genuine social life that one of them was in a coma.
"Hello, Amanda." He'd read that familiar voices could help coma patients, so he always talked when he visited, usually just inconsequential things; the minutia of his life, sanitized news of her mother, fairy tales inspired all too often by his real experiences. "It's been quite a week. It's not unusual for me to make decisions other people disagree with, it's the nature of my job, but it's always been business." Neither Hendricks nor Gard had given his ill-advised affair with Amanda's mother a second thought. "Truthfully, my whole life has been business since-- well, for quite a few years."
He smiled weakly. "This time, I made an unpopular decision about who to spend my personal time with. They won't quite come out and say it, but while the who of the matter worries them, it doesn't worry them as much as the fact that he's a man. It's just not done in my line of work. Not acknowledged, anyway.
"Maybe they're right. It's a terrible risk for both of us. Perhaps I've become foolish in my old age and the world hasn't changed as much as I'd like, but," his smile came easier that time, "he did rescue me from the evil dragon's lair. You remember that story." John touched the ragged edge of his ear. "That makes this traditional.
"I trust him and, in spite of everything, he makes me laugh." Admittedly, usually in shock, exasperation, or irritation, but the point stood. "I'm not going to give that up."
He and the nurses maintained the polite fiction that his visits occurred in absolute privacy, but John was sure the duty nurse gave his hand an extra squeeze as she shook it on his way out the door.
Friday
This was the last of the conversations Harry planned to have. He was sure that it wouldn't be the last one ever, but Ramirez was the last person on his mental list of 'people who need to know about my personal life.' He wasn't sure if it was a good thing that it would be a phone conversation.
Carlos answered on the second ring, and they went through the usual song and dance of identifying themselves. Literally a song, and Harry made a note to find out who was getting clever with the passwords. After getting through their reports and catching up on gossip from Edinburgh, Harry broke the usual cycle by saying, "There's one more thing, on a personal note."
"Aw, man, what'd you do now?"
"Nothing!" Harry said defensively. It was an automatic reaction; a survival instinct. He shook it off. "I mean, really, nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you, so you hear it from me and not down the gossip chain, I'm dating someone. A man."
"What?!" Carlos trailed off into an incomprehensible string of Spanish before switching back into English. "That's not funny, Harry."
"It wasn't a joke, Carlos."
"Dude, you can't be gay, that's so many kinds of not ok-- you're Harry Dresden! You-- ugh." Carlos sounded truly distressed.
"I'm not gay," Harry said with more patience than he realized he had. "But I am sleeping with a man."
"God, Harry! Shut up! I do not need this from you. That shit is gross and not right; you know how many times we've had to bunk up together during training? How am I going to deal with that?"
"You know, I'm definitely not gay for you, so you don't have to worry about it." Harry snapped. Well, there was only so far patience could take you.
The click of the line disconnecting seemed unnaturally loud. Harry stared at the phone. Carlos had hung up on him. "That could have gone better," he told the dead line before putting the receiver down.
~~~
"Johnny." The man walking into his office was a decade his senior, a smart mobster, and in charge of Marcone's property management in West Town. "I've heard some nasty rumors circulating."
"Did we have an appointment, Mr. Castiglione?" John asked pointedly. He had a feeling this meeting wasn't going to go well.
"Nah, Johnny," Frank said smugly, taking a seat after helping himself to a scotch, "but you're going to want to hear this." He paused for dramatic effect and John merely raised his eyebrows in mute inquiry. "Word on the street is you got yourself a new bit on the side and, you know how men talk, Johnny, word is you're steppin' out with a man. Now, everybody throws that shit around, of course, but some of us old timers, well, we remember you as a young man, Johnny. And ain't nobody sayin' you's a nancy, but we remember you had an eye for the pretty boys all those years ago, before you was anybody with a reputation to protect. So, maybe these younger guys are just talkin' out of their asses, but we old wise guys, we know the score. I came to say you best be careful, Johnny. You're not twenty-two anymore. You gotta act like you got some sense of propriety."
John listened the whole time without letting a single emotion show on his face. He knew because he was channeling all of his outrage and irritation at being condescended to by this underling into his white-knuckled fists, hidden safely under the desk.
"Frank," he said quietly, "are you presuming to comment on my personal life?"
"Nah, Johnny, not your real personal life. I'm just sayin', you gotta be careful if you're screwing some faggot."
John was on his feet and around the desk in moments, moving like a tightly-coiled spring had been released. He lifted Frank out of his twelve hundred dollar leather guest chair and held him by the lapels so that they were nose to nose.
"You are right," he said quietly, enunciating each word carefully. "I am not twenty-two anymore. I am vastly more capable of destroying the lives of people who threaten me and mine." Frank's eyes were wide and darting side-to-side in panic. John growled with primal satisfaction.
"You are not so old or so wise that you cannot be replaced-- now, you go and you can tell your peers who think they can use my past behavior to blackmail me that my personal life is my own concern and I am willing to defend my choices."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Marcone, no disrespect, sir, of course." The man was babbling and John dropped him in disgust.
"Get out of here, Frank, before I have to have Mr. Hendricks remove you." He nodded to his bodyguard who had appeared roughly three seconds after John's desk chair had hit the ground. He looked vaguely pleased and John supposed this little display assuaged his fears to some extent.
"Oh, and Frank?" he said to the man as he was scuttling out the door. "If anyone tries to take a potshot at my 'pretty boy,' I think they'll find that he's at least as dangerous as I am."
Saturday
It was dark before Mouse looked expectantly at the door and Harry jumped, then forced himself to take a deep breath and pick up his book again like a grown man instead of an over-excited fourteen year old. It was pointless; he only dropped it again when the knock sounded. Mouse looked at him and thumped his tail twice. Harry made a rude gesture at the dog and made himself walk calmly to the door. After a moment or three of struggling with the poorly-hung steel monstrosity, he wrenched it open to reveal Gentleman John Marcone in all his debonair glory. It would be intimidating how well he wore that suit, but Harry was too busy taking in his smile and the small overnight bag in his hand.
John lent a shoulder to shutting the door, and Harry should really have felt resentful rather than giddy to see the laughter in his money green eyes.
"Come here and remind me why I spent all week having the most uncomfortable conversations of my adult life," Harry groused once they'd gotten the bag set aside and had moved back into the sitting area.
"Was it really that bad?" John asked, laughing, before pushing him down onto the couch and following. He was shorter than Harry, but broad, and Harry delighted in the weight and strength of him.
"It was--"
Harry gasped as John started kissing his way from ear to collar bone murmuring a smug, "Don't mind me; you were saying?"
"Ah-- it was awkward-- dammit, John-- I had to tell someone I was attacked by a tentacle demon because of this!" Harry's hand had found its way into John's hair and he squeezed the nape of John's neck for emphasis.
John stopped; it was hard to get proper suction when he was laughing so hard. Harry flicked the side of the other man's neck lightly. "It's not that improbable!"
"Only you," John muttered, shaking his head. "Ms. Gard will be coming by to do a security assessment."
"And won't that be fun." Harry paused a beat, "Thomas may or may not stop by to threaten you and defend my honor," he admitted.
"I look forward to it," John answered, rich amusement in his deadpan tone. "Mr. Hendricks is afraid we're putting ourselves in danger."
"That's so sweet; I didn't know he cared! Should I send him a box of thank you Milk-Bones?"
"Dresden," John growled and bit his shoulder, hard.
"Ow! Okay!" Harry tried and failed to shove him off, resulting in a distracting scuffle and wrestling match that involved a lot more tongue than Harry remembered from school.
"Michael asked me to bring you to family dinner on Sunday," he said after they'd settled down again. "I may have neglected to mention to him and Murph exactly who exactly you were."
"That will be interesting." John sounded resigned.
"But worth it?" Harry said, thinking out loud as much as asking.
"Worth it," John said firmly and proceeded to make some very persuasive arguments without saying a word.
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