The monster of the week was on fire, and it was totally my fault.
Some things I’m completely willing to take the blame for.
I hurried away while it burned so I could contently watch it from a distance. It was always embarrassing when you lit something on fire and then it burned you, too. Or, you know, almost killed you from smoke exhalation. Those would also make the nice little words on my tombstone a lie: it would then be “He died doing something stupid.”
Of course, according to certain people, that should be on there, anyway.
“There are other elements in the world besides fire, Dresden.”
Ah, how I missed that disapproving voice. I looked away from where my work of art was stumbling into the lake – see! Easy clean-up! – and smiled my sunniest smile at Morgan. “I think it gives my work a slight…flare.”
Morgan winced a little at my pun, and I smirked inwardly in victory. Then I remembered I was dealing with Morgan and smirked outwardly, too. He stared at me for a moment before looking back to the lake. I eyed him and then resumed watching the show. Oooh, look at that steam! And the fire shone so brightly in the pre-dawn.
“I didn’t break any laws, you know,” I told him mildly. “Lighting up someone’s bloodthirsty toy is legal by the Laws and the Accords.”
No, there was no taunt in my words. Shut up.
Morgan didn’t argue; he just grunted. I waited for a little longer, but when he didn’t give any of his usual speeches about how I was a nasty, nasty warlock or how he was watching me, I stopped watching the fire die and looked at him.
He looked…thoughtful. It was a little hard to tell in the dark, but there was enough firelight to read his expression. No frustration at failing to catch me breaking a law, no anger, no scorn, just thoughtfulness. I considered Seeing him, just to make sure it was him.
As it was, it made me nervous, which meant there was only one thing to do. “Bring any marshmallows?” I asked brightly.
Morgan finally stopped watching my work of art fade into the lake to raise an eyebrow at me. I know way too many people who can do that. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then shook his head. He grew thoughtful again.
Yeah, definitely nervous now.
“Aren’t you past the stalker phase now?” I asked instead. “I mean, women have put out restraining orders for less, and I really don’t want to be the stalked woman in this relationship.”
And there went the eyebrow again. He didn’t say what I thought he would, though. “How much are you getting paid for this?”
The snort escaped before I could stop it. “Buddy, I lost sleep, a tire, a decent amount of flesh, and a set of clothes to that thing.” I waved to my bloodied clothes. I liked these jeans, dammit! You know how hard it is to find jeans that actually fit my legs? “Of course I didn’t get paid a damned thing.”
Morgan didn’t answer right away. He just kept staring. I hated it.
“If you keep staring at me,” I grumbled, “I’m going to start charging you.” Seeing as the monster of the week was probably a really nasty pool of something spreading through the lake, I limped toward my car. Or what was left of it. I wondered if Mike was awake.
Instead of taking the hint, Morgan fell in step beside me. It didn’t help my nerves at all. He either walked behind me like the freaky stalker he was – which I had too many of, by the way – or jumped out dramatically in front of me with sword drawn. I couldn’t remember right off hand any moment he had walked beside me.
It said something very sad about my life that I was more used to stalking and jumping out and attacking than someone walking beside me.
“You can’t reach the wounds on your back by yourself,” Morgan said abruptly. “I can help with those.”
I stopped in my tracks and stared wide-eyed at him. “Christo?” I tried.
Morgan stared at me in confusion. Apparently, he had never seen the show, either. See what happens when you watch something besides classics? No one gets what you mean.
Not that anyone caught my quotes most of the time, anyway.
I tried the more direct approach. “Who are you and what have you done with Morgan?” I demanded. Shockingly, my rings were still charged, so if this was another monster’s cue to laugh dramatically and then transform into something the size of Thomas’ dick-extension, I was ready.
Why did a White Court vampire need a dick-extension?
No laughter, but the slow flush was more disturbing. Morgan growled and raised his chin, which reassured me a little. It also let me watch the flush slide down his throat. Did he flush all over?
I shook my head a little before he could show that he was psychic, too, and really run me through.
“I told you before that I believed you were…too impulsive and lacked judgment,” Morgan said slowly, each syllable sounding like it was dragged screaming over gravel before escaping his mouth. “It has since occurred to me that you also lacked any proper peers to aid you.”
I blamed my stumble on my scratched ankle. Damn thing had long claws. Of course, Morgan had to ruin it by catching my arm. I jerked back and almost fell again. This time Morgan didn’t bother trying to catch me.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I scorned. “You know what, never mind. I’m going to go home, take care of my own fucking scratches, and then I’m going to catch some Z’s before I head to the office. You…can go stalk someone else for a while.”
I tried stomping off and realized quickly that was stupid. It didn’t stop me from trying, though.
It also didn’t stop Morgan from grabbing my arm again. I tried pulling away, but he always was stronger.
“I’m trying to apologize!” he snapped, sounding frustrated. Well, welcome to my world, Bub.
“Great!” I snapped back. “Consider your good deed done for the day. Bye!”
I never said I wasn’t an asshole. I’ve always been honest about that.
Still, he didn’t let go. I tried not to shake at the feel of his hand wrapped tight around my elbow, keeping me in place with a frightening ease. I’ve encountered a lot of nasties over the years, but Morgan was my personal boogeyman since I was sixteen. It was a Thing.
“At least let me bandage your back,” Morgan said quietly.
I glared into the dark where my car was, complete with busted tire. “If I do that,” I returned, “will you leave?”
His huff reminded me of Mouse for some reason. “For now.”
I rolled his eyes and jerked my elbow away. This time, he let me. “Fine. Come on.”
I didn’t take offense at his expression when he reached my car. Or, at least, not much. I was pretty used to it. I pulled out my handy-dandy first aid kit and handed it to him, then pulled off my shirt. Let this be a lesson, kids: no matter how hot a Chicago summer night can be, never leave home without your magically enhanced Kevlar-like duster. The pathetic sweating is better than the painful bleeding.
His hands lingered more than I would like as he bandaged my back. I manly tried not to squirm and instead focused on glaring at the lake. I thought I could feel Demonreach in the distance, but I decided it was just my imagination.
“You have a lot of scars,” Morgan said quietly behind me. His callused fingers swept up my spine. I shivered and glared harder.
“They’ll vanish soon enough,” I said shortly. I tried not to imagine what my body would look like without a wizard’s natural healing ability. It was hard enough to get laid as it was.
His fingers kept moving. I shivered and then forced myself to be still. His fingers paused just above the waist of my jeans. “Sometimes,” Morgan murmured, “I wonder how many of the rumors about you are true.”
There was something in the tone of his voice that I had never heard from him. I licked my lips and didn’t look at him. “You were there for the T-Rex incident,” I pointed out.
He hummed. His fingers felt warm against the heat of my back. “You didn’t fight back when I was going to kill you.”
It wasn’t a question. The fact that I was hearing that sentence from someone who was touching me like that disturbed me a tad. Since it wasn’t a question, I didn’t bother answering.
For some reason, that seemed like answer enough. Morgan hummed and then slid his fingers up my back. He squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. I focused on my breathing for a moment.
“Next time we meet,” Morgan said, “I’ll bring marshmallows.”
I turned my head, but the man was already striding into whatever shadow had spit him out in the first place. I licked my lips and pretended my shiver was from being shirtless. The wind was cold coming off the lake, after all.
Then I looked back at my dead front tire and groaned. More important things from guys who made stalking into a hobby, after all.
Still, if I spent the rest of the day looking over my shoulder, who could blame me?
That was sooo cute! Poor Harry, more afraid of Morgan apologizing to him than of Morgan attacking him. I think it's the first Morgan/Dresden I've read for the bookverse.
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Re: Dresden/Morgan
(Anonymous) 2011-02-08 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)Some things I’m completely willing to take the blame for.
I hurried away while it burned so I could contently watch it from a distance. It was always embarrassing when you lit something on fire and then it burned you, too. Or, you know, almost killed you from smoke exhalation. Those would also make the nice little words on my tombstone a lie: it would then be “He died doing something stupid.”
Of course, according to certain people, that should be on there, anyway.
“There are other elements in the world besides fire, Dresden.”
Ah, how I missed that disapproving voice. I looked away from where my work of art was stumbling into the lake – see! Easy clean-up! – and smiled my sunniest smile at Morgan. “I think it gives my work a slight…flare.”
Morgan winced a little at my pun, and I smirked inwardly in victory. Then I remembered I was dealing with Morgan and smirked outwardly, too. He stared at me for a moment before looking back to the lake. I eyed him and then resumed watching the show. Oooh, look at that steam! And the fire shone so brightly in the pre-dawn.
“I didn’t break any laws, you know,” I told him mildly. “Lighting up someone’s bloodthirsty toy is legal by the Laws and the Accords.”
No, there was no taunt in my words. Shut up.
Morgan didn’t argue; he just grunted. I waited for a little longer, but when he didn’t give any of his usual speeches about how I was a nasty, nasty warlock or how he was watching me, I stopped watching the fire die and looked at him.
He looked…thoughtful. It was a little hard to tell in the dark, but there was enough firelight to read his expression. No frustration at failing to catch me breaking a law, no anger, no scorn, just thoughtfulness. I considered Seeing him, just to make sure it was him.
As it was, it made me nervous, which meant there was only one thing to do. “Bring any marshmallows?” I asked brightly.
Morgan finally stopped watching my work of art fade into the lake to raise an eyebrow at me. I know way too many people who can do that. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then shook his head. He grew thoughtful again.
Yeah, definitely nervous now.
“Aren’t you past the stalker phase now?” I asked instead. “I mean, women have put out restraining orders for less, and I really don’t want to be the stalked woman in this relationship.”
And there went the eyebrow again. He didn’t say what I thought he would, though. “How much are you getting paid for this?”
The snort escaped before I could stop it. “Buddy, I lost sleep, a tire, a decent amount of flesh, and a set of clothes to that thing.” I waved to my bloodied clothes. I liked these jeans, dammit! You know how hard it is to find jeans that actually fit my legs? “Of course I didn’t get paid a damned thing.”
Morgan didn’t answer right away. He just kept staring. I hated it.
“If you keep staring at me,” I grumbled, “I’m going to start charging you.” Seeing as the monster of the week was probably a really nasty pool of something spreading through the lake, I limped toward my car. Or what was left of it. I wondered if Mike was awake.
Instead of taking the hint, Morgan fell in step beside me. It didn’t help my nerves at all. He either walked behind me like the freaky stalker he was – which I had too many of, by the way – or jumped out dramatically in front of me with sword drawn. I couldn’t remember right off hand any moment he had walked beside me.
It said something very sad about my life that I was more used to stalking and jumping out and attacking than someone walking beside me.
“You can’t reach the wounds on your back by yourself,” Morgan said abruptly. “I can help with those.”
I stopped in my tracks and stared wide-eyed at him. “Christo?” I tried.
Morgan stared at me in confusion. Apparently, he had never seen the show, either. See what happens when you watch something besides classics? No one gets what you mean.
Not that anyone caught my quotes most of the time, anyway.
I tried the more direct approach. “Who are you and what have you done with Morgan?” I demanded. Shockingly, my rings were still charged, so if this was another monster’s cue to laugh dramatically and then transform into something the size of Thomas’ dick-extension, I was ready.
Why did a White Court vampire need a dick-extension?
No laughter, but the slow flush was more disturbing. Morgan growled and raised his chin, which reassured me a little. It also let me watch the flush slide down his throat. Did he flush all over?
I shook my head a little before he could show that he was psychic, too, and really run me through.
“I told you before that I believed you were…too impulsive and lacked judgment,” Morgan said slowly, each syllable sounding like it was dragged screaming over gravel before escaping his mouth. “It has since occurred to me that you also lacked any proper peers to aid you.”
I blamed my stumble on my scratched ankle. Damn thing had long claws. Of course, Morgan had to ruin it by catching my arm. I jerked back and almost fell again. This time Morgan didn’t bother trying to catch me.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I scorned. “You know what, never mind. I’m going to go home, take care of my own fucking scratches, and then I’m going to catch some Z’s before I head to the office. You…can go stalk someone else for a while.”
I tried stomping off and realized quickly that was stupid. It didn’t stop me from trying, though.
It also didn’t stop Morgan from grabbing my arm again. I tried pulling away, but he always was stronger.
“I’m trying to apologize!” he snapped, sounding frustrated. Well, welcome to my world, Bub.
“Great!” I snapped back. “Consider your good deed done for the day. Bye!”
I never said I wasn’t an asshole. I’ve always been honest about that.
Still, he didn’t let go. I tried not to shake at the feel of his hand wrapped tight around my elbow, keeping me in place with a frightening ease. I’ve encountered a lot of nasties over the years, but Morgan was my personal boogeyman since I was sixteen. It was a Thing.
“At least let me bandage your back,” Morgan said quietly.
I glared into the dark where my car was, complete with busted tire. “If I do that,” I returned, “will you leave?”
His huff reminded me of Mouse for some reason. “For now.”
I rolled his eyes and jerked my elbow away. This time, he let me. “Fine. Come on.”
I didn’t take offense at his expression when he reached my car. Or, at least, not much. I was pretty used to it. I pulled out my handy-dandy first aid kit and handed it to him, then pulled off my shirt. Let this be a lesson, kids: no matter how hot a Chicago summer night can be, never leave home without your magically enhanced Kevlar-like duster. The pathetic sweating is better than the painful bleeding.
His hands lingered more than I would like as he bandaged my back. I manly tried not to squirm and instead focused on glaring at the lake. I thought I could feel Demonreach in the distance, but I decided it was just my imagination.
“You have a lot of scars,” Morgan said quietly behind me. His callused fingers swept up my spine. I shivered and glared harder.
“They’ll vanish soon enough,” I said shortly. I tried not to imagine what my body would look like without a wizard’s natural healing ability. It was hard enough to get laid as it was.
His fingers kept moving. I shivered and then forced myself to be still. His fingers paused just above the waist of my jeans. “Sometimes,” Morgan murmured, “I wonder how many of the rumors about you are true.”
There was something in the tone of his voice that I had never heard from him. I licked my lips and didn’t look at him. “You were there for the T-Rex incident,” I pointed out.
He hummed. His fingers felt warm against the heat of my back. “You didn’t fight back when I was going to kill you.”
It wasn’t a question. The fact that I was hearing that sentence from someone who was touching me like that disturbed me a tad. Since it wasn’t a question, I didn’t bother answering.
For some reason, that seemed like answer enough. Morgan hummed and then slid his fingers up my back. He squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. I focused on my breathing for a moment.
“Next time we meet,” Morgan said, “I’ll bring marshmallows.”
I turned my head, but the man was already striding into whatever shadow had spit him out in the first place. I licked my lips and pretended my shiver was from being shirtless. The wind was cold coming off the lake, after all.
Then I looked back at my dead front tire and groaned. More important things from guys who made stalking into a hobby, after all.
Still, if I spent the rest of the day looking over my shoulder, who could blame me?
not op
(Anonymous) 2011-02-08 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)Any plans for a sequel, amazing anon?
Re: not op
(Anonymous) 2011-02-08 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Dresden/Morgan
Re: Dresden/Morgan
Poor Harry, more afraid of Morgan apologizing to him than of Morgan attacking him.
I think it's the first Morgan/Dresden I've read for the bookverse.
Re: Dresden/Morgan
Re: Dresden/Morgan
(Anonymous) 2011-02-09 12:38 am (UTC)(link)Re: Dresden/Morgan
(Anonymous) 2011-02-09 01:41 am (UTC)(link)Re: Dresden/Morgan
(Anonymous) 2011-02-17 01:42 pm (UTC)(link)