Yeah- i don't really have many good ref pics of Harry so I was kind of mking stuff up- glad you liked it :D
GDI, this is what I get for not knowing my coffee recipes. In the edited version, when/if I get around to it, Marcone's drinks will not contain espresso. Harry does not have an espresso machine (yet). Apparently espresso is in fucking everything, though.
+6+
Harry wasn't sure how the joke of a business idea had gotten to be his livelihood. He'd worked for Mac happily for four years when, in a rare moment of wordiness, Mac had mentioned Harry made good coffee.
A customer had asked if it was as good as Mac's ale, and gotten a thoughtful nod from Mac alongside an embarrassed denial from Harry. The customer had joked Harry should go into business, then - because coffee as good as Mac's ale would never have problems getting sold.
Harry thought about it for a month or two and said maybe it was worth a shot? He'd had the ancient coffee machine for a little while and finally got it working; a regular offered his truck to transport it as long as he got the first drink.
"You're right, it's not that good," he shook his head after a few sips. "I'll have to drink the whole batch, I'm not sure anyone else can handle it."
Harry, who had been about to give up altogether, got much more encouraged when people started fighting to be next in line for a drink.
Somehow, in hardly a month and a half since the grand opening, he'd grown a loyal customer base that was more than paying his bills, to the point that he didn't really need his job at Mac's anymore, he just worked there so he could keep the free rent - and because he still felt he owed Mac.
And now he'd agreed to hand-deliver coffee before he opened. What had compelled him to offer that? He liked Johnny and Rahm, sure, but - this was time out of his day. Building customer loyalty, sure, and a little more money in his pocket, but why these two guys? They weren't the only people who liked having his coffee with lunch.
Johnny was sweet, like the sugary drinks he liked. He didn't show it, to the point that Harry wasn't supposed to tell the courier boys what he put in Johnny's drinks. But he was really nice, and very thoughtful. Harry wasn't surprised to find out Johnny donated to children's charities.
Rahm was all tightly packed energy, like the espresso he teased about wanting. Harry had been looking into getting an espresso machine and trying to convince himself that he wasn't getting it just for Rahm. Instead he just made it a point to roast some of the beans as briefly as possible and leave them aside for Rahm or other customers who needed an extra pick-me-up.
Maybe if he got a vanilla human to work for him, they could manage the espresso. Kim didn't have nearly the problems with technology that he did, but she certainly didn't help - she was a minor talent with magic.
He shook his head. Why did he need to do this?
Today was the first day he would be delivering, and the coffee was almost ready. He'd cast a little spell on the cups he'd brought home the day before - they'd keep the coffee warm for about three hours, without it being too hot to drink or too hot to hold.
The spell had taken an hour or two to design, but now that he knew it, it was an easy enough thing to perform. He mixed Johnny's sugary mess of the day - more hot chocolate than coffee, really - and then brewed Rahm's strong and dark, with different spices today, for variety: clove and ginger, in addition to the usual cinnamon for flavor.
He cradled the cups in the jerry-rigged cupholders of his Blue Beetle.
He parked in a delivery/loading zone and hoped this qualified, sniffing the covered drinks to make sure he grabbed the right one.
Fourteen administrators, security guards, and downright assholes later, and he was in Johnny's office, fidgeting uneasily. Maybe he should just leave it on Johnny's desk? He knew the guy would pay him back, after all...he was just setting it down to go when he heard a click.
"Don't move." He didn't. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"I'm assuming I can move to respond," he said blandly.
"Yeah. Turn around."
The speaker was actually someone he recognized - the redhead who picked up Johnny's coffee the first few days, along with a cup for himself.
"Oh, Harry. Jesus, I thought you were leaving a bomb or something," the man rolled his eyes, holstering a gun that had been pointed at Harry's chest. Harry swallowed.
"Does Johnny get a lot of bombs instead of coffee?"
"Not many bombs, no. Threats of them, sure. Can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs and all that," the redhead waved a hand dismissively. "Wait, you brought him coffee?"
Harry nodded slowly.
The man pulled out his wallet - Harry tensed briefly, not sure it wasn't another gun at first - and thumbed out a five dollar bill. "Here, keep the change," he handed it over. Harry held up his hands.
"I don't wanna overcharge."
"It's a trip, Harry, take it."
"That's a pretty ridiculous tip."
"Just take the money," the man said tiredly.
"What's your name?" Harry asked, finally accepting the bill.
"...Uh, Ted. Ted Hendricks."
Harry shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. I remember you ordered a cappuccino and I had to tell you we don't have espresso. So you ended up with café au lait, right?"
Ted nodded.
"Great. I'll bring you one next time."
"Wait, you still don't have espresso?"
"...it's kind of a long story, but basically I have a tendency to break anything made after WWII. And I haven't been able to find an affordable espresso machine from that era that still works."
Ted nodded, though it was clear this didn't make much sense to him.
"I have another delivery to make, okay?" Harry smiled nervously. "So I'll just be going." Ted seemed nice enough, but getting a gun pulled on you was enough to make anyone jumpy.
He was halfway out of Johnny's office when the man himself walked in.
"Harry! Please, sit."
"I really shouldn't, I have to deliver to Rahm next," Harry said hesitantly, glancing at Ted out of the corner of his eye.
"The Mayor can wait a moment. Did Mr. Hendricks pay you?"
"Yes," Harry said, standing behind one of the ergonomic, ultramodern guest chairs and clutching the back of it. He'd never felt so uneasy around Johnny before. It was probably just the office, and the hulking bodyguard. In the dim of the bar/cafe, Ted hadn't seemed very imposing. They'd even shared a few jokes about philosophy, set off by a button Kim was wearing.
"You seem...agitated."
"This isn't exactly my comfort zone," he gestured stiffly to the sprawling office and its expansive view of Chicago.
Johnny sipped his coffee and sighed happily. "Thank you so much for bringing this to me."
"N-no problem. Is there any free parking near City Hall?" he asked edgily.
"For you? I'm afraid not. It's only a few minutes' walk, though - you can leave your car...where is your car?"
"A loading bay, I think," Harry toed the carpet.
"Well, just leave it there. I'll make sure nothing happens to it. Tomorrow we'll figure out a better place to park it."
"Okay. W-well, I'd better go get to Rahm."
Johnny watched him go thoughtfully.
+7+
It was only ten administrators, secretaries, and bureaucrats (and general assholes) to get to Rahm. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if perhaps Johnny wasn't being completely upfront about the things he did.
"What the hell took you so long?" Rahm grinned at him, pulling him by the arm, moving deeper into his office. "I have been jonesing for this coffee all morning."
"I tried something a little different," Harry said, offering the cup. "Let me know if you don't like it, I can bring you something else next time."
Rahm took a sip and closed his eyes. The sigh was more of a moan. It made Harry feel uncomfortably warm.
"I want this. Whatever is in this, I want it every time."
Harry flashed him a quick smile. "I'm glad you liked it! You're harder to pin down, you know - usually I know what people want the minute they walk in. But you've got hidden depths and whatnot." He realized he was babbling and stopped.
"So, you took Johnny his first?" Rahm raised an eyebrow. "What do I need to do to fix that?"
"Free parking," Harry laughed.
Rahm took another sip. "Done. I'll give you the city clerk's parking spot."
"Wha - no!" Harry laughed. "Something legal. Come on."
"I'll work something out with the parking administration. After coffee. I don't want it to get cold."
Harry checked his pocketwatch. It had been his paternal grandfather's, or so his dad had said. Harry never met the man, but the watch worked better for him than any of the fancy digital jobs had ever done. "It should stay warm for another hour at least," he said.
Rahm made an inquisitive noise while his mouth was full of coffee.
"It's um. A special cup."
Another curious sip. "How does that work?"
"Magic," Harry said cheerfully.
"Right," Rahm rolled his eyes.
+8+
The routine changed, but only a little. Every weekday, Harry drove down town. He alternated when he delivered to Johnny first or Rahm first. On weekends, he made Rahm's drink about ten minutes before opening Saturday - Rahm was usually there five minutes before opening. Johnny came in during normal business hours. There was always a second drink for Rahm on Saturdays, too, just before Harry closed.
Sundays meant staying late after his shift in the bar, making a drink for Johnny and warming the cup (he tweaked the spell to essentially act as a stasis on the contents until someone started to drink it). He left it with the gatehouse of Johnny's mansion. A second sugary drink for Johnny meant coming back in to Mac's and letting Johnny in through the back door. Rahm almost always ended up with a spiced coffee delivered to his house, somewhere in there.
It got to the point where he could supply the shop just on delivering to Rahm and Johnny, with extra for the gas he was using on them. They kept refusing to pay him less than $5, even though he thought they had agreed on $3 for deliveries. Sometimes, when they were in a hurry, it was a $10 or a $20 bill instead, and he was hustled out the door before he could protest.
They wouldn't take change back, either. He eventually chalked it up to rich people being eccentric and left it at that.
The three of them got stuck in this holding pattern of overpaying Harry and leaving him without a way to respond. He did his best to maintain his relationships with other customers, but the whole shop could see the way he lit up when Rahm or Johnny walked in.
It was a Saturday when the delivery arrived. Johnny and Rahm were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, ignoring each other. Harry was never sure if they'd bicker or glare silently, any given day. Sometimes they tried to get him to bring insults to the other with coffee, but he ignored that kind of behavior. He would tolerate their disagreements, but he wouldn't enable them.
A UPS guy walked into the shop, looked around, and spotted Harry. "I got a delivery," he said, "for a...Harry? That's you, right?"
"Yeah. Would you like some coffee?" Harry asked.
"No thanks," he shook his head. "I need you to sign for the package."
"What is it?"
"I just deliver the stuff, I don't look inside," the man shrugged. He held out a clipboard.
Once Harry signed, the man ducked back out to the truck. He had to wheel whatever it was down a ramp. The whole bar was filled with interested chatter.
He wheeled the dolly indoors and left it in the middle of the floor.
"Uh, thanks?" Harry said dubiously. Kim grabbed some scissors and opened the box, shoving aside packing peanuts.
"Holy shit, boss!" she yelped. "Come look at this!"
Harry emerged from behind the bar and peered into the box. Customers were gathering around now.
"Is that..."
"That's a 1938 Cremonesi piston-pump espresso machine," Kim said in awe. "I read about these. It must have cost a fortune. Most of them were destroyed."
Rahm and Johnny hadn't left the bar, though both were watching interestedly.
"Let's find out if it works," Harry grinned.
It took some experimentation - and liberal consultation of the manual - but Harry managed to make a shot of espresso. He taste-tested it, frowned a little, dumped it out, and made another. That one was much better. The third, he mixed into a mocha and gave to Johnny.
"Because I seem to remember mentioning something about my technology issues to Ted," he said pointedly.
Johnny smiled and sipped the mocha.
+6+
Harry wasn't sure how the joke of a business idea had gotten to be his livelihood. He'd worked for Mac happily for four years when, in a rare moment of wordiness, Mac had mentioned Harry made good coffee.
A customer had asked if it was as good as Mac's ale, and gotten a thoughtful nod from Mac alongside an embarrassed denial from Harry. The customer had joked Harry should go into business, then - because coffee as good as Mac's ale would never have problems getting sold.
Harry thought about it for a month or two and said maybe it was worth a shot? He'd had the ancient coffee machine for a little while and finally got it working; a regular offered his truck to transport it as long as he got the first drink.
"You're right, it's not that good," he shook his head after a few sips. "I'll have to drink the whole batch, I'm not sure anyone else can handle it."
Harry, who had been about to give up altogether, got much more encouraged when people started fighting to be next in line for a drink.
Somehow, in hardly a month and a half since the grand opening, he'd grown a loyal customer base that was more than paying his bills, to the point that he didn't really need his job at Mac's anymore, he just worked there so he could keep the free rent - and because he still felt he owed Mac.
And now he'd agreed to hand-deliver coffee before he opened. What had compelled him to offer that? He liked Johnny and Rahm, sure, but - this was time out of his day. Building customer loyalty, sure, and a little more money in his pocket, but why these two guys? They weren't the only people who liked having his coffee with lunch.
Johnny was sweet, like the sugary drinks he liked. He didn't show it, to the point that Harry wasn't supposed to tell the courier boys what he put in Johnny's drinks. But he was really nice, and very thoughtful. Harry wasn't surprised to find out Johnny donated to children's charities.
Rahm was all tightly packed energy, like the espresso he teased about wanting. Harry had been looking into getting an espresso machine and trying to convince himself that he wasn't getting it just for Rahm. Instead he just made it a point to roast some of the beans as briefly as possible and leave them aside for Rahm or other customers who needed an extra pick-me-up.
Maybe if he got a vanilla human to work for him, they could manage the espresso. Kim didn't have nearly the problems with technology that he did, but she certainly didn't help - she was a minor talent with magic.
He shook his head. Why did he need to do this?
Today was the first day he would be delivering, and the coffee was almost ready. He'd cast a little spell on the cups he'd brought home the day before - they'd keep the coffee warm for about three hours, without it being too hot to drink or too hot to hold.
The spell had taken an hour or two to design, but now that he knew it, it was an easy enough thing to perform. He mixed Johnny's sugary mess of the day - more hot chocolate than coffee, really - and then brewed Rahm's strong and dark, with different spices today, for variety: clove and ginger, in addition to the usual cinnamon for flavor.
He cradled the cups in the jerry-rigged cupholders of his Blue Beetle.
He parked in a delivery/loading zone and hoped this qualified, sniffing the covered drinks to make sure he grabbed the right one.
Fourteen administrators, security guards, and downright assholes later, and he was in Johnny's office, fidgeting uneasily. Maybe he should just leave it on Johnny's desk? He knew the guy would pay him back, after all...he was just setting it down to go when he heard a click.
"Don't move." He didn't. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"I'm assuming I can move to respond," he said blandly.
"Yeah. Turn around."
The speaker was actually someone he recognized - the redhead who picked up Johnny's coffee the first few days, along with a cup for himself.
"Oh, Harry. Jesus, I thought you were leaving a bomb or something," the man rolled his eyes, holstering a gun that had been pointed at Harry's chest. Harry swallowed.
"Does Johnny get a lot of bombs instead of coffee?"
"Not many bombs, no. Threats of them, sure. Can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs and all that," the redhead waved a hand dismissively. "Wait, you brought him coffee?"
Harry nodded slowly.
The man pulled out his wallet - Harry tensed briefly, not sure it wasn't another gun at first - and thumbed out a five dollar bill. "Here, keep the change," he handed it over. Harry held up his hands.
"I don't wanna overcharge."
"It's a trip, Harry, take it."
"That's a pretty ridiculous tip."
"Just take the money," the man said tiredly.
"What's your name?" Harry asked, finally accepting the bill.
"...Uh, Ted. Ted Hendricks."
Harry shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. I remember you ordered a cappuccino and I had to tell you we don't have espresso. So you ended up with café au lait, right?"
Ted nodded.
"Great. I'll bring you one next time."
"Wait, you still don't have espresso?"
"...it's kind of a long story, but basically I have a tendency to break anything made after WWII. And I haven't been able to find an affordable espresso machine from that era that still works."
Ted nodded, though it was clear this didn't make much sense to him.
"I have another delivery to make, okay?" Harry smiled nervously. "So I'll just be going." Ted seemed nice enough, but getting a gun pulled on you was enough to make anyone jumpy.
He was halfway out of Johnny's office when the man himself walked in.
"Harry! Please, sit."
"I really shouldn't, I have to deliver to Rahm next," Harry said hesitantly, glancing at Ted out of the corner of his eye.
"The Mayor can wait a moment. Did Mr. Hendricks pay you?"
"Yes," Harry said, standing behind one of the ergonomic, ultramodern guest chairs and clutching the back of it. He'd never felt so uneasy around Johnny before. It was probably just the office, and the hulking bodyguard. In the dim of the bar/cafe, Ted hadn't seemed very imposing. They'd even shared a few jokes about philosophy, set off by a button Kim was wearing.
"You seem...agitated."
"This isn't exactly my comfort zone," he gestured stiffly to the sprawling office and its expansive view of Chicago.
Johnny sipped his coffee and sighed happily. "Thank you so much for bringing this to me."
"N-no problem. Is there any free parking near City Hall?" he asked edgily.
"For you? I'm afraid not. It's only a few minutes' walk, though - you can leave your car...where is your car?"
"A loading bay, I think," Harry toed the carpet.
"Well, just leave it there. I'll make sure nothing happens to it. Tomorrow we'll figure out a better place to park it."
"Okay. W-well, I'd better go get to Rahm."
Johnny watched him go thoughtfully.
+7+
It was only ten administrators, secretaries, and bureaucrats (and general assholes) to get to Rahm. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if perhaps Johnny wasn't being completely upfront about the things he did.
"What the hell took you so long?" Rahm grinned at him, pulling him by the arm, moving deeper into his office. "I have been jonesing for this coffee all morning."
"I tried something a little different," Harry said, offering the cup. "Let me know if you don't like it, I can bring you something else next time."
Rahm took a sip and closed his eyes. The sigh was more of a moan. It made Harry feel uncomfortably warm.
"I want this. Whatever is in this, I want it every time."
Harry flashed him a quick smile. "I'm glad you liked it! You're harder to pin down, you know - usually I know what people want the minute they walk in. But you've got hidden depths and whatnot." He realized he was babbling and stopped.
"So, you took Johnny his first?" Rahm raised an eyebrow. "What do I need to do to fix that?"
"Free parking," Harry laughed.
Rahm took another sip. "Done. I'll give you the city clerk's parking spot."
"Wha - no!" Harry laughed. "Something legal. Come on."
"I'll work something out with the parking administration. After coffee. I don't want it to get cold."
Harry checked his pocketwatch. It had been his paternal grandfather's, or so his dad had said. Harry never met the man, but the watch worked better for him than any of the fancy digital jobs had ever done. "It should stay warm for another hour at least," he said.
Rahm made an inquisitive noise while his mouth was full of coffee.
"It's um. A special cup."
Another curious sip. "How does that work?"
"Magic," Harry said cheerfully.
"Right," Rahm rolled his eyes.
+8+
The routine changed, but only a little. Every weekday, Harry drove down town. He alternated when he delivered to Johnny first or Rahm first. On weekends, he made Rahm's drink about ten minutes before opening Saturday - Rahm was usually there five minutes before opening. Johnny came in during normal business hours. There was always a second drink for Rahm on Saturdays, too, just before Harry closed.
Sundays meant staying late after his shift in the bar, making a drink for Johnny and warming the cup (he tweaked the spell to essentially act as a stasis on the contents until someone started to drink it). He left it with the gatehouse of Johnny's mansion. A second sugary drink for Johnny meant coming back in to Mac's and letting Johnny in through the back door. Rahm almost always ended up with a spiced coffee delivered to his house, somewhere in there.
It got to the point where he could supply the shop just on delivering to Rahm and Johnny, with extra for the gas he was using on them. They kept refusing to pay him less than $5, even though he thought they had agreed on $3 for deliveries. Sometimes, when they were in a hurry, it was a $10 or a $20 bill instead, and he was hustled out the door before he could protest.
They wouldn't take change back, either. He eventually chalked it up to rich people being eccentric and left it at that.
The three of them got stuck in this holding pattern of overpaying Harry and leaving him without a way to respond. He did his best to maintain his relationships with other customers, but the whole shop could see the way he lit up when Rahm or Johnny walked in.
It was a Saturday when the delivery arrived. Johnny and Rahm were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, ignoring each other. Harry was never sure if they'd bicker or glare silently, any given day. Sometimes they tried to get him to bring insults to the other with coffee, but he ignored that kind of behavior. He would tolerate their disagreements, but he wouldn't enable them.
A UPS guy walked into the shop, looked around, and spotted Harry. "I got a delivery," he said, "for a...Harry? That's you, right?"
"Yeah. Would you like some coffee?" Harry asked.
"No thanks," he shook his head. "I need you to sign for the package."
"What is it?"
"I just deliver the stuff, I don't look inside," the man shrugged. He held out a clipboard.
Once Harry signed, the man ducked back out to the truck. He had to wheel whatever it was down a ramp. The whole bar was filled with interested chatter.
He wheeled the dolly indoors and left it in the middle of the floor.
"Uh, thanks?" Harry said dubiously. Kim grabbed some scissors and opened the box, shoving aside packing peanuts.
"Holy shit, boss!" she yelped. "Come look at this!"
Harry emerged from behind the bar and peered into the box. Customers were gathering around now.
"Is that..."
"That's a 1938 Cremonesi piston-pump espresso machine," Kim said in awe. "I read about these. It must have cost a fortune. Most of them were destroyed."
Rahm and Johnny hadn't left the bar, though both were watching interestedly.
"Let's find out if it works," Harry grinned.
It took some experimentation - and liberal consultation of the manual - but Harry managed to make a shot of espresso. He taste-tested it, frowned a little, dumped it out, and made another. That one was much better. The third, he mixed into a mocha and gave to Johnny.
"Because I seem to remember mentioning something about my technology issues to Ted," he said pointedly.
Johnny smiled and sipped the mocha.
This Harry is ADORABLE. I just want to pinch his little cheeks. And drink his coffee. Even though I normally eschew coffee entirely in favor of tea.
Hunt him down with the pack and tie him to a chair?”
“Stop watching gay porn, Dresden,” Rahm said dryly.
You are killing me with this. Not just well written, but also turning the prompt around like this, having Marcone be somebody who can simultaneously be interested improving schools but isn't interested in scaling back drugs (complex, not a simple misunderstood hero). I love it.
This Harry was raised solely by Eb and his dad, so he's a lot less combative and very country boy in the big city. He has almost no access to news, but Rahm's face was plastered all over the city when he was running, and Harry did end up voting for him, so he actually looked to figure out if Rahm won.
Which means Harry has no idea - and won't learn for a while - what "Johnny" does, much to Rahm's disappointment, since Rahm wants the barista to himself ;D
...I have a confession to make.
I hate coffee. ((almost as much as I hate HTML tags, for anyone who caught that formatting fail)) *ahem*
I've been holding that back pretty much since I started writing this, lol. I don't even like stuff that's made in coffee places because it tastes like coffee to me.
Which means Harry has no idea - and won't learn for a while - what "Johnny" does, much to Rahm's disappointment, since Rahm wants the barista to himself ;D
...I have a confession to make.
I hate coffee. ((almost as much as I hate HTML tags, for anyone who caught that formatting fail)) *ahem*
I've been holding that back pretty much since I started writing this, lol. I don't even like stuff that's made in coffee places because it tastes like coffee to me.
Sweet little coffeemaker Harry, I adore the way you are being courted by Rahm and Marcone (and I really, really hope we get to see either/both of them fuck you senseless, but no pressure on the writer. I apparently find this innocent, happy version of Harry being courted by two powerful guys erotic.)
Anyway, I love this fic :)
Anyway, I love this fic :)
If "Caveman" - all 58,000 characters of it - is any indication, the slow-burning ones have a way of consuming me more thoroughly. We'll see what I get out of this one, but it may yet end up with sexytimes. Johnny and Rahm are definitely angling for favors of the caffeinated kind at the very least, and Harry is starting to notice he has a sexuality (after spending most of his life homeschooled on a farm in Missouri by a guy who essentially told him masturbating was evil...yeah).
In other words, Harry is very innocent.
I'm glad you're enjoying it <3
In other words, Harry is very innocent.
I'm glad you're enjoying it <3
I have considered trying to see if maybe there's some way I like coffee (because I DO like the smell of coffee... and coffee icecream...) but I think it's unwise. Today I drank TWO cups of strong Assam with milk and sugar instead of my normal ONE cup of gunpowder green and as a result I am completely wired and have a slight case of the shakes. So I think it would be kind of scary if it turned out I like coffee.
There's always decaf, I guess? I don't even like the smell, so I stay away from the stuff in all of it's forms, to the point that I don't really like meeting people in coffee shops and I leave when my roommate makes coffee. But a lot of my friends drink this stuff (and are pretty much not worth talking to when they don't get enough) so I figured I'd give the prompt a shot.
I am like you author! Except that I totally gave into peer-pressure and am conditioning myself to like coffee. /o\ It felt like a cultural thing I was missing out on! So it's been 6 months and I started with um, a half-shot-of-expresso-in-a-giant-cup vanilla-flavoured 90% soymilk concoction, and am now at a cafe misto (half soymilk, half coffee).... though still with vanilla-flavouring. The baristas are cheering me on actually, I feel like I can't give up now.
|D I've made a stance now. I can't back down. Too many people would mock me for it.
Probably a small part of it is my general inability to drink warm things. I haven't finished a mug of hot chocolate in years, if I ever have. The main stumbling block is still the smell/taste, though.
Probably a small part of it is my general inability to drink warm things. I haven't finished a mug of hot chocolate in years, if I ever have. The main stumbling block is still the smell/taste, though.
Re: Johnny, Rahm and Harry [6, 7 & 8/?]- pic poster question
(Anonymous) 2011-03-05 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)does anyone have photo refs for the 1938 Cremonesi piston-pump espresso machine? I kind of want to do another drawing of Harry w/that but I on't know what that looks like
Re: Johnny, Rahm and Harry [6, 7 & 8/?]- pic poster question
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flit_df_fanfic
2011-03-05 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)
This one is based off of the 1938 design: http://www.openobject.org/modmania/File:Gaggia_espresso_machine.jpeg
Rahm is definitely asking too much from Marcone. :3 But that's how his personality feels to me - highly demanding. They'll end up negotiating. ^^
At the definite risk of de-anoning, I've already done a R/M/H 3some... but the story does seem to be working out there. Maybe if OP has an opinion?
At the definite risk of de-anoning, I've already done a R/M/H 3some... but the story does seem to be working out there. Maybe if OP has an opinion?
Now that I've gotten the spirit of the subprompt out of the way... ^^;;;;
I don't exactly see Marcone as a 'hero' type of character in the books, which makes him far more interesting to me to write. :3
I don't exactly see Marcone as a 'hero' type of character in the books, which makes him far more interesting to me to write. :3
James hovered and fussed, to the point I had to order him to stand on the other side of the room so that the doctor could bandage my ear. Ms. Gard neither hovered nor fussed. She stood guard at the door, still and silent. She did not approve of my actions regarding Harry. But she would obey, and that was all that mattered right now.
“How is he?” My own voice was loud in the room, surprising. Dr. Singer packed away the last of the trash, wrapping it up in a bright orange-red biohazard bag and sealing it up.
“Asleep. I've bandaged everything that needed it and given him a few stitches. He needs to rest, Mr. Marcone and to take it easy. I gave him something that should keep him under for at least another six hours.” The man rose from his crouch of the floor. He didn't look anything like a doctor, really. He'd have looked more at home in the middle of a junkyard or a bar fight. It explained why I liked him better than any other doctor I'd ever had to deal with. The man had no pretense to him. “I left antibiotics with instructions on the nightstand in his room.”
“Thank you. Mr. Hendricks will see you out.” James pushed off from his position on the wall and nodded at me. I waited until they were out the door and then rose, stretching out sore muscles, the pain dulled by a mild pain-killer.
“Mr. Marcone.” Ms. Gard spoke, softly but confidently. “I need to speak to you about Dresden. I know that you feel as though you understand what has happened here, but I don't believe you do. It is not Dresden any longer.”
“So you said. But he is still in his own body, is he not? It is a form of possession, as I understand it.”
“Yes. But the being that has taken control is...it is old. It was not being insulting when it called me 'child'. It is far older than I, and more powerful. You came through the shielding I have in place here as though it did not exist. If it so desired, it could kill us all without much effort at all. And that is without access to Dresden's own capabilities.”
“So you would recommend?” Kill him.
“If you're not going to hand Dresden over to his friends to let them deal with him?” I shook my head. They wouldn't be able to understand what had happened, to help him. “Then you need to tread carefully. We have no way of knowing what it's goals are. Above all else, do not piss it off. It is possible that the creature and Dresden will simply leave at some point and we will all survive.”
~
I woke with my hand on the hilt of my knife, a slender body shifting against mine, curling up against me. Long fingers wrapped around my wrist, squeezing the bones and tendons together.
“We won't need that, will we?” Harry's voice, but not his speech. “Unless you're into that sort of thing. In which case, I suppose negotiations could be entered.” A gentle laugh, low and rumbling. Something that tugged at my lungs and lower. I turned my head and met glowing, alien amber eyes in Harry's familiar face. I released the knife and pushed at it with my fingers to send it further away, out of easy reach. Harry's face smiled and his hand squeezed my wrist tighter before easing off, becoming a gentle pressure instead.
“May I ask what I should call you?” He settled closer into me, radiating nearly uncomfortable heat through the thin cotton of my pajama pants. One thin leg passed over mine, pressed in between, nestling.
“Lasciel.” I felt the palm of his hand against my hair, moving slowly, learning the sensation, perhaps. Harry's body wrapped around me, hot, incredibly hot and sweat beaded up along my spine.
“With no disrespect, Lasciel, my doctor examined Harry and he needs to be resting. I would ask that you allow his body to heal before-” The light from my windows shone off of white, even teeth and then soft, warm lips brushed against my temple beside my eye, so close my eyelashes brushed against them as I blinked.
“Adorable. So very sweet, little Baron.” The weight of Harry's head came to to rest on my shoulder. “Harry,” subtle emphasis, “is asleep. And I am healing his body as we speak. I have no desire to harm him. To the contrary in fact.” A long, slow, undulating movement against my side and it became obvious that Harry was not wearing the pajama bottoms I'd had him dressed in. “I need to concentrate my efforts on healing his body. It leaves him open to the remaining effects of the obedience collar. Your presence eases those.” His hand ghosted down the inside of my arm, down across my chest and then Lasciel brushed the back of Harry's hand across the front of my pants, just hard enough to make me twitch. “I didn't think you would mind.”
I drew in a long, calm breath. Lasciel shifted Harry's body against mine. The tips of his fingers, callused and just slightly rough traced along the edge of the top of my pants. I sucked my stomach in, and slowly lifted my hand to take hold of Harry's wrist. To draw his hand away from my body. Lasciel let me do it.
“Harry is unaware of what you are doing with his body?”
“Mm. Being unconscious, yes.”
“And touch, simple touch is enough to help with the...effects?”
“Yes.”
“Then I would ask that you not do this.” Lasciel moved, cocking Harry's head to stare at me with those strange eyes.
“He would not mind, I think. And I assure you sex would help speed the healing process. There is an exchange of energies that I could use to my purpose.”
“None the less. He is not capable of telling me this himself at the moment. And without that assurance, I will not take advantage of him.” Not again. Not by my choice.
Harry's lips curled into a sensual smile, an expression I wouldn't have thought him capable of. Lasciel's eyes glowed a little brighter and then faded back to a dull, beautiful glow.
“So strangely moral, when it suits you.” Harry's head dropped back down to my shoulder and the hand I had been holding rose, his arm wrapping around my chest. “It confuses him.”
Harry's breathing evened out into something resembling rest. I lay there, staring up at my own ceiling, his too thin, too warm body pressed against me, oddly comfortable.
“How is he?” My own voice was loud in the room, surprising. Dr. Singer packed away the last of the trash, wrapping it up in a bright orange-red biohazard bag and sealing it up.
“Asleep. I've bandaged everything that needed it and given him a few stitches. He needs to rest, Mr. Marcone and to take it easy. I gave him something that should keep him under for at least another six hours.” The man rose from his crouch of the floor. He didn't look anything like a doctor, really. He'd have looked more at home in the middle of a junkyard or a bar fight. It explained why I liked him better than any other doctor I'd ever had to deal with. The man had no pretense to him. “I left antibiotics with instructions on the nightstand in his room.”
“Thank you. Mr. Hendricks will see you out.” James pushed off from his position on the wall and nodded at me. I waited until they were out the door and then rose, stretching out sore muscles, the pain dulled by a mild pain-killer.
“Mr. Marcone.” Ms. Gard spoke, softly but confidently. “I need to speak to you about Dresden. I know that you feel as though you understand what has happened here, but I don't believe you do. It is not Dresden any longer.”
“So you said. But he is still in his own body, is he not? It is a form of possession, as I understand it.”
“Yes. But the being that has taken control is...it is old. It was not being insulting when it called me 'child'. It is far older than I, and more powerful. You came through the shielding I have in place here as though it did not exist. If it so desired, it could kill us all without much effort at all. And that is without access to Dresden's own capabilities.”
“So you would recommend?” Kill him.
“If you're not going to hand Dresden over to his friends to let them deal with him?” I shook my head. They wouldn't be able to understand what had happened, to help him. “Then you need to tread carefully. We have no way of knowing what it's goals are. Above all else, do not piss it off. It is possible that the creature and Dresden will simply leave at some point and we will all survive.”
~
I woke with my hand on the hilt of my knife, a slender body shifting against mine, curling up against me. Long fingers wrapped around my wrist, squeezing the bones and tendons together.
“We won't need that, will we?” Harry's voice, but not his speech. “Unless you're into that sort of thing. In which case, I suppose negotiations could be entered.” A gentle laugh, low and rumbling. Something that tugged at my lungs and lower. I turned my head and met glowing, alien amber eyes in Harry's familiar face. I released the knife and pushed at it with my fingers to send it further away, out of easy reach. Harry's face smiled and his hand squeezed my wrist tighter before easing off, becoming a gentle pressure instead.
“May I ask what I should call you?” He settled closer into me, radiating nearly uncomfortable heat through the thin cotton of my pajama pants. One thin leg passed over mine, pressed in between, nestling.
“Lasciel.” I felt the palm of his hand against my hair, moving slowly, learning the sensation, perhaps. Harry's body wrapped around me, hot, incredibly hot and sweat beaded up along my spine.
“With no disrespect, Lasciel, my doctor examined Harry and he needs to be resting. I would ask that you allow his body to heal before-” The light from my windows shone off of white, even teeth and then soft, warm lips brushed against my temple beside my eye, so close my eyelashes brushed against them as I blinked.
“Adorable. So very sweet, little Baron.” The weight of Harry's head came to to rest on my shoulder. “Harry,” subtle emphasis, “is asleep. And I am healing his body as we speak. I have no desire to harm him. To the contrary in fact.” A long, slow, undulating movement against my side and it became obvious that Harry was not wearing the pajama bottoms I'd had him dressed in. “I need to concentrate my efforts on healing his body. It leaves him open to the remaining effects of the obedience collar. Your presence eases those.” His hand ghosted down the inside of my arm, down across my chest and then Lasciel brushed the back of Harry's hand across the front of my pants, just hard enough to make me twitch. “I didn't think you would mind.”
I drew in a long, calm breath. Lasciel shifted Harry's body against mine. The tips of his fingers, callused and just slightly rough traced along the edge of the top of my pants. I sucked my stomach in, and slowly lifted my hand to take hold of Harry's wrist. To draw his hand away from my body. Lasciel let me do it.
“Harry is unaware of what you are doing with his body?”
“Mm. Being unconscious, yes.”
“And touch, simple touch is enough to help with the...effects?”
“Yes.”
“Then I would ask that you not do this.” Lasciel moved, cocking Harry's head to stare at me with those strange eyes.
“He would not mind, I think. And I assure you sex would help speed the healing process. There is an exchange of energies that I could use to my purpose.”
“None the less. He is not capable of telling me this himself at the moment. And without that assurance, I will not take advantage of him.” Not again. Not by my choice.
Harry's lips curled into a sensual smile, an expression I wouldn't have thought him capable of. Lasciel's eyes glowed a little brighter and then faded back to a dull, beautiful glow.
“So strangely moral, when it suits you.” Harry's head dropped back down to my shoulder and the hand I had been holding rose, his arm wrapping around my chest. “It confuses him.”
Harry's breathing evened out into something resembling rest. I lay there, staring up at my own ceiling, his too thin, too warm body pressed against me, oddly comfortable.
Every fandom has some! I know I have a couple saved away as a guilty pleasure: the pair dies tragically foiling villain X's devious plot Y. Thousands of years later a new Egyptology display opens in the local museum and hijinks ensue!
Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 2/? (3, maybe? I hope to finish it off tomorrow...)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-06 12:34 am (UTC)(link)Looking forward to Harry waking up in John's bed. :)
Alwaysagirl!Harry makes Marcone beg to get his mouth on her. And when she finally lets him eat her out, she pulls his hair and tells him what she likes, holding him where she wants him, because it makes her feel sexy and powerful.
Bonus points if it leads to more hotness of author's choice, but really I'm just after the kernel of homg sketched above.
Bonus points if it leads to more hotness of author's choice, but really I'm just after the kernel of homg sketched above.
<3
Love how protective Lasciel and Marcone is of Harry.
It's like a long overdue theraphy session or something. :D
Can't wait the read the next part tomorrow! :)
Love how protective Lasciel and Marcone is of Harry.
It's like a long overdue theraphy session or something. :D
Can't wait the read the next part tomorrow! :)
Really love your Harry. He makes me want to hug him and throw fluffy things at him. :)
...Hmm...I have a confession to make as well then.
I hate coffee as well. It always seemed like some sort of extremely bitter tea whenever my aunt let me try some when I was young and the smell makes me very uneasy for some reason...
I did try out some of Starbucks coffee b/c my friends were a bit amazed that I never tried some, but whenever I spent (alot) of money on something, it makes me sick. D:
So you're not along there. I just thought that Marcone and Rahm would be like coffee addicts so I wanted a Coffeemancer!Harry.
Can't wait for the next part! :D
...Hmm...I have a confession to make as well then.
I hate coffee as well. It always seemed like some sort of extremely bitter tea whenever my aunt let me try some when I was young and the smell makes me very uneasy for some reason...
I did try out some of Starbucks coffee b/c my friends were a bit amazed that I never tried some, but whenever I spent (alot) of money on something, it makes me sick. D:
So you're not along there. I just thought that Marcone and Rahm would be like coffee addicts so I wanted a Coffeemancer!Harry.
Can't wait for the next part! :D
That is a totally awesome and hilarious idea. 8D
WriterAnon Please? :D
*Really loving how Harry still loves irriating Marcone.*
WriterAnon Please? :D
*Really loving how Harry still loves irriating Marcone.*
I'm a sucker for fallen angels but don't like het...
The concept is as follows:
Lasciel is a kind of 'political criminal' - had fallen not because of particular evilness but because he was not satisfied with God's attitude towards humans and the world in general.
He doesn't like Nick/Anduriel's ideas and refused to bond with hosts so after several disappointments Nick drops his coin on Harry in hopes that Lash will find him acceptable and they will... corrupt each other or something.
This plan backfires as Lash manages to persuade Harry that he really doesn't want to steal his soul and gives him all the support he needs.
BONUS POINTS if Lash was an angel of retribution so he is inclined to smite the evil-doers.
BONUS POINTS#2 if he suggests that Harry ask a so-and-so angel to verify his background
slash desired (but optional)
The concept is as follows:
Lasciel is a kind of 'political criminal' - had fallen not because of particular evilness but because he was not satisfied with God's attitude towards humans and the world in general.
He doesn't like Nick/Anduriel's ideas and refused to bond with hosts so after several disappointments Nick drops his coin on Harry in hopes that Lash will find him acceptable and they will... corrupt each other or something.
This plan backfires as Lash manages to persuade Harry that he really doesn't want to steal his soul and gives him all the support he needs.
BONUS POINTS if Lash was an angel of retribution so he is inclined to smite the evil-doers.
BONUS POINTS#2 if he suggests that Harry ask a so-and-so angel to verify his background
slash desired (but optional)
Re: Fill: Bad Angel V 2/? (3, maybe? I hope to finish it off tomorrow...)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-06 02:27 am (UTC)(link)squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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