Two weeks later, I stepped out of Winter through the most commonly used Way into Chicago. Gard was waiting for me.
“Tell your boss he can go jump in the lake,” I said, moving past her to go about my business.
She stepped in front of me, barring the exit of the alley. “I had the impression you thought well of Mr. Vadderung,” she said.
Oops. “You aren’t here for Marcone.”
“No. My lord is in town, he wants to take you for dinner.”
Dinner? I wondered if there was actual food on the menu, or if it was a meal of sex and power and magic. Either sounded good to me. Hell, maybe we could be all mainstream about it and do both. “When?”
“Now.”
Right. I didn’t question how or why Vadderung had known where I’d be. Knowledge was Monoc’s stock in trade, after all. Instead I nodded to Gard and followed her back to her car.
It wasn’t difficult to find him when I walked into the restaurant. There aren’t many giant one eyed rogues dining out in Downtown Chicago, but the man sat with him took me by surprise. Marcone. I didn’t hesitate, I just strode through the restaurant like I had every right to be there with my oaken staff and casual clothes and seated myself at the third place setting.
“Hey Donar, Maeve says thanks for the mead. We had a good time.”
Vadderung smiled down at me. “Really?” he said. “I heard you two had something of a falling out.”
From the way Marcone straightened in his seat, it was obvious which two Vadderung was referring to. We weren’t discussing Maeve any more.
“Yeah, I sort of punched him in the mouth,” I said. “But he was asking for it.” Marcone was under Vadderung’s protection to some extent, but I was pretty sure the old god wouldn’t be making a personal rebuke for a schoolyard scuffle.
“You were hardly provoked,” Marcone said, something ugly snarling underneath his calm words. I could almost taste it lingering in the air with the spice of the wine.
“Come now Marcone, we aren’t here to argue.” Vadderung poured out a generous measure of red wine for me, and I fought the urge to laugh. It wasn’t often I got to see Marcone be out-civilled by someone. I didn’t think it was one of Vadderung’s usual tactics either.
“Then why are we here?” Marcone said. “Certainly not to renegotiate. We’re under contract for another six months, and our business doesn’t require Dresden’s presence.”
“Well, we don’t have to be here Baron, if you object. We could very easily be somewhere else.” Vadderung clicked his fingers. And then we were.
I looked around in puzzlement, “A log cabin?” Vadderung barked a laugh and reached forward to cuff my ear lightly.
“A mead hall,” he said. “Mine. I don’t get much use for it anymore, but you two... I had a whim to see you here.” It really didn’t fit with the posh restaurant furniture that Vadderung had brought with us. And I could see why it didn’t get much use, what with the brilliant combination of wooden everything alongside a giant roaring fire. Due to a past history with unexpectedly flammable buildings, I felt like I should sit on my hands or something. But it felt good. Welcoming, like the place wanted me to sink back in my chair and knock back my wine and talk too loud and laugh too hard.
“This is very homely,” Marcone said, leaning forward in his own chair, “but I must insist we return to Chicago. My people will be worried.”
‘People’ probably translating to ‘Hendricks’, and ‘worried’ to ‘laconically freaking out’.
Vadderung shrugged off the demand. “Calm yourself, Baron. I’m sworn to protect your interests. Sigrun will let your man know you are safe.”
“Perhaps we have different definitions of safe. Mine doesn’t include abduction, and this is a far cry from protecting my interests.”
I kind of wished I had some popcorn to go with my fancy wine, because an argument between the two of them promised to be an interesting show. Maybe if I asked Vadderung...
“Chicago is your chief interest,” the old god said. “Chicago is... important. In the same way the two of you are.”
“Chess pieces,” Marcone replied. “And all your maneuvering to date has suited my interests, I have no objection to it.”
Vadderung tilted his head back, taking half a glass of wine in one easy swallow. “Mmm, not entirely true. My last move was a poor one.”
There was a moment’s pause in which Marcone very carefully didn’t react. He was watching Vadderung instead, face motionless. An idea crept over me. I wasn’t used to sharing Marcone’s attention. It felt... weird. And maybe he’d been struggling with some weirdness of his own, during the Dissolution party. I chose my next words thoughtfully. “Your last move being... me? I wouldn’t call that planned.”
“It wasn’t. You’re a terrible distraction boy- “
“I try.”
“- and a god of my years should have better control. But,” and then he grinned, “I don’t. I likely never will. And now I have set things off kilter.”
“So you want to rekilt them?”
“This is no time for bad blood between the two of you, or between you and I, Marcone. So we are here to right things.”
I raised my hand, and Vadderung smiled at me tolerantly.
“Are we righting them with sex? Because Marcone thinks I’m a dirty slut. I don’t think he’ll go for it.”
Vadderung didn’t look impressed. But he didn’t look angry either, his expression put me more in mind of Eb’s disappointed-face, and I was really glad it wasn’t pointed at me. Marcone held his gaze, jaw set, obvious tension in the line of his shoulders. After a moment of impasse, Vadderung shook his head and sighed. “Really, Marcone? If that’s your best attempt at love-talk, no wonder you haven’t had a man in your bed for years.”
A man. In his bed. I fixed my attention on Marcone, a slightly nasty smile on my face, waiting to see if he’d freak out at Vadderung, or if he reserved that kind of pettiness for me. There were splotches of deep colour high on Marcone’s cheek bones, and I wondered if that heat came from anger. “I have no interest in a man in my bed- “
“Oh, hush.” Vadderung said. “Those that would think less of you for it are lesser men than yourself. Their opinion is nothing to you.”
“Oh, indeed? I’ll just take the moral high-ground, shall I? I’m sure it’ll be a great strategic advantage when my opponents come gunning for a perceived weakness.”
“Of course not. You’ll strike them down dead, if you have any care for your power.” Vadderung said it like it was nothing, like it was ridiculous that Marcone fought for a whole host of things, but the right to enjoy himself wasn’t one of them.
“He cares a bit too much, don’t you, Johnny boy?” I asked. Vadderung was wasting his time. He might as well turf John out and sprawl in front of the fire with me. “He’s not going to go for it. Pity.”
“You,” Marcone growled, “are just being contrary. You have no interest in- “
“Seeing you on your knees sucking my cock? I think maybe I do, Marcone.” It wasn’t really intended as an insult, but I admit that I picked my words to see if he’d take it as one. Because I liked dropping to my knees and sucking cock with the right person at the right time, and I wanted to know whether Mr. Mafia Don had that all tangled up with stupid ideas about power and submission and authority. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he didn’t react angrily, instead the heat in his cheeks spread, and his eyes went a little darker.
Vadderung laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be adverse to seeing that either. What say you, Marcone?”
“I say you should have finished buying me lunch before you asked me that goddamn question,” he said. Oh, cursing! Weren’t we privileged? I liked the sudden roughness in his voice, and I raised my glass to it, smiling at Vadderung.
“I’ll feed you both, and gladly,” he said, raising a glass to me in return.
Which is pretty much what I doing the whole time I was reading. Harry, you are a bit of a shit; but gracious, is Marcone setting himself up as deserving of it. Responsible!Adult!(..er. All Father. yuuuuup.) Vadderung is made of aces, and how awesome is it to have John up against the wall of his tact(ics), trying to negotiate his own giant issues. And, of course, the nods to Vadderung's mythology, and the careful maneuvering (...plus Harry) of events in the series, and hooray, this one too!
Also: Vadderung laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be adverse to seeing that either. What say you, Marcone?”
“I say you should have finished buying me lunch before you asked me that goddamn question,” he said. Oh, cursing! Weren’t we privileged? I liked the sudden roughness in his voice, and I raised my glass to it, smiling at Vadderung.
“I’ll feed you both, and gladly,” he said, raising a glass to me in return.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Filled Part 3 (of 4ish)
“Tell your boss he can go jump in the lake,” I said, moving past her to go about my business.
She stepped in front of me, barring the exit of the alley. “I had the impression you thought well of Mr. Vadderung,” she said.
Oops. “You aren’t here for Marcone.”
“No. My lord is in town, he wants to take you for dinner.”
Dinner? I wondered if there was actual food on the menu, or if it was a meal of sex and power and magic. Either sounded good to me. Hell, maybe we could be all mainstream about it and do both. “When?”
“Now.”
Right. I didn’t question how or why Vadderung had known where I’d be. Knowledge was Monoc’s stock in trade, after all. Instead I nodded to Gard and followed her back to her car.
It wasn’t difficult to find him when I walked into the restaurant. There aren’t many giant one eyed rogues dining out in Downtown Chicago, but the man sat with him took me by surprise. Marcone. I didn’t hesitate, I just strode through the restaurant like I had every right to be there with my oaken staff and casual clothes and seated myself at the third place setting.
“Hey Donar, Maeve says thanks for the mead. We had a good time.”
Vadderung smiled down at me. “Really?” he said. “I heard you two had something of a falling out.”
From the way Marcone straightened in his seat, it was obvious which two Vadderung was referring to. We weren’t discussing Maeve any more.
“Yeah, I sort of punched him in the mouth,” I said. “But he was asking for it.” Marcone was under Vadderung’s protection to some extent, but I was pretty sure the old god wouldn’t be making a personal rebuke for a schoolyard scuffle.
“You were hardly provoked,” Marcone said, something ugly snarling underneath his calm words. I could almost taste it lingering in the air with the spice of the wine.
“Come now Marcone, we aren’t here to argue.” Vadderung poured out a generous measure of red wine for me, and I fought the urge to laugh. It wasn’t often I got to see Marcone be out-civilled by someone. I didn’t think it was one of Vadderung’s usual tactics either.
“Then why are we here?” Marcone said. “Certainly not to renegotiate. We’re under contract for another six months, and our business doesn’t require Dresden’s presence.”
“Well, we don’t have to be here Baron, if you object. We could very easily be somewhere else.” Vadderung clicked his fingers. And then we were.
I looked around in puzzlement, “A log cabin?” Vadderung barked a laugh and reached forward to cuff my ear lightly.
“A mead hall,” he said. “Mine. I don’t get much use for it anymore, but you two... I had a whim to see you here.” It really didn’t fit with the posh restaurant furniture that Vadderung had brought with us. And I could see why it didn’t get much use, what with the brilliant combination of wooden everything alongside a giant roaring fire. Due to a past history with unexpectedly flammable buildings, I felt like I should sit on my hands or something. But it felt good. Welcoming, like the place wanted me to sink back in my chair and knock back my wine and talk too loud and laugh too hard.
“This is very homely,” Marcone said, leaning forward in his own chair, “but I must insist we return to Chicago. My people will be worried.”
‘People’ probably translating to ‘Hendricks’, and ‘worried’ to ‘laconically freaking out’.
Vadderung shrugged off the demand. “Calm yourself, Baron. I’m sworn to protect your interests. Sigrun will let your man know you are safe.”
“Perhaps we have different definitions of safe. Mine doesn’t include abduction, and this is a far cry from protecting my interests.”
I kind of wished I had some popcorn to go with my fancy wine, because an argument between the two of them promised to be an interesting show. Maybe if I asked Vadderung...
“Chicago is your chief interest,” the old god said. “Chicago is... important. In the same way the two of you are.”
“Chess pieces,” Marcone replied. “And all your maneuvering to date has suited my interests, I have no objection to it.”
Vadderung tilted his head back, taking half a glass of wine in one easy swallow. “Mmm, not entirely true. My last move was a poor one.”
There was a moment’s pause in which Marcone very carefully didn’t react. He was watching Vadderung instead, face motionless. An idea crept over me. I wasn’t used to sharing Marcone’s attention. It felt... weird. And maybe he’d been struggling with some weirdness of his own, during the Dissolution party. I chose my next words thoughtfully. “Your last move being... me? I wouldn’t call that planned.”
“It wasn’t. You’re a terrible distraction boy- “
“I try.”
“- and a god of my years should have better control. But,” and then he grinned, “I don’t. I likely never will. And now I have set things off kilter.”
“So you want to rekilt them?”
“This is no time for bad blood between the two of you, or between you and I, Marcone. So we are here to right things.”
I raised my hand, and Vadderung smiled at me tolerantly.
“Are we righting them with sex? Because Marcone thinks I’m a dirty slut. I don’t think he’ll go for it.”
Vadderung didn’t look impressed. But he didn’t look angry either, his expression put me more in mind of Eb’s disappointed-face, and I was really glad it wasn’t pointed at me. Marcone held his gaze, jaw set, obvious tension in the line of his shoulders. After a moment of impasse, Vadderung shook his head and sighed. “Really, Marcone? If that’s your best attempt at love-talk, no wonder you haven’t had a man in your bed for years.”
A man. In his bed. I fixed my attention on Marcone, a slightly nasty smile on my face, waiting to see if he’d freak out at Vadderung, or if he reserved that kind of pettiness for me. There were splotches of deep colour high on Marcone’s cheek bones, and I wondered if that heat came from anger. “I have no interest in a man in my bed- “
“Oh, hush.” Vadderung said. “Those that would think less of you for it are lesser men than yourself. Their opinion is nothing to you.”
“Oh, indeed? I’ll just take the moral high-ground, shall I? I’m sure it’ll be a great strategic advantage when my opponents come gunning for a perceived weakness.”
“Of course not. You’ll strike them down dead, if you have any care for your power.” Vadderung said it like it was nothing, like it was ridiculous that Marcone fought for a whole host of things, but the right to enjoy himself wasn’t one of them.
“He cares a bit too much, don’t you, Johnny boy?” I asked. Vadderung was wasting his time. He might as well turf John out and sprawl in front of the fire with me. “He’s not going to go for it. Pity.”
“You,” Marcone growled, “are just being contrary. You have no interest in- “
“Seeing you on your knees sucking my cock? I think maybe I do, Marcone.” It wasn’t really intended as an insult, but I admit that I picked my words to see if he’d take it as one. Because I liked dropping to my knees and sucking cock with the right person at the right time, and I wanted to know whether Mr. Mafia Don had that all tangled up with stupid ideas about power and submission and authority. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he didn’t react angrily, instead the heat in his cheeks spread, and his eyes went a little darker.
Vadderung laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be adverse to seeing that either. What say you, Marcone?”
“I say you should have finished buying me lunch before you asked me that goddamn question,” he said. Oh, cursing! Weren’t we privileged? I liked the sudden roughness in his voice, and I raised my glass to it, smiling at Vadderung.
“I’ll feed you both, and gladly,” he said, raising a glass to me in return.
Re: Filled Part 3 (of 4ish)
Which is pretty much what I doing the whole time I was reading. Harry, you are a bit of a shit; but gracious, is Marcone setting himself up as deserving of it. Responsible!Adult!(..er. All Father. yuuuuup.) Vadderung is made of aces, and how awesome is it to have John up against the wall of his tact(ics), trying to negotiate his own giant issues. And, of course, the nods to Vadderung's mythology, and the careful maneuvering (...plus Harry) of events in the series, and hooray, this one too!
Also: Vadderung laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be adverse to seeing that either. What say you, Marcone?”
“I say you should have finished buying me lunch before you asked me that goddamn question,” he said. Oh, cursing! Weren’t we privileged? I liked the sudden roughness in his voice, and I raised my glass to it, smiling at Vadderung.
“I’ll feed you both, and gladly,” he said, raising a glass to me in return.
Me too, me too! I want to see!