We mostly manage to stay out of each other’s way as he gets a bucket, as I take the water off the range. He finds towels, I mix the steaming water with a little of their freezing tap water until it’s just at the edge of comfort, hot but not scalding.
There’s an almost decadent loofah to scrub down with, some soap tailor made for sponge baths. But why not do it right, if you have to do this three weeks a month? I clean the sticky remainders of sex off, and my double makes a sandwich. No, two. Because he knows what I take, and he knows I’m ravenous after sex.
“Regrets?” he asks frankly, from his comfortable seat on the couch, left leg up on the coffee table. He’s sipping from a beer; its brother stands beside the second sandwich. MacAnally’s. There’s a giant cafe serving-sized brownie on a little napkin next to it, cut neatly in two. It’s remarkably distracting.
“No. But regrets that I don’t have regrets.” I kneel, dunk my head into the bucket, and scrub my fingers through my hair.
His laugh is knowing, rueful. “Because you think it was the wrong thing to do.”
“I need to get home. We need to track down the mirror and I have to find my way back to my universe. This-- this time I’ve wasted on a fantasy, it could have been put to better use.”
“Bull,” he tells me, as I wrap myself in one of their warm towels, use the other to scrape the last moisture off of my legs and out of my hair. “There’s no way Nathan is by your side seven days a week without reminding you of basic economics. It’s stupid to penalize anyone with a low income for buying the occasional luxury item; they couldn’t pay their rent any more easily if they had that twenty dollars back, the relative costs being what they are, and a really good meal will help their morale plenty more than an extra bill in their wallet. You’re time-poor, but there’s nothing we could have done with the last two hours but sit around here. We made good use of the time. And you can’t tell me your morale isn’t boosted.” His smile is knowing, gentle, generous.
He’s right, and it’s exactly what Hendricks would say, at that. ...Hendricks. I’m going to have to tell him about this. About what the course of one bullet can change. I can’t deal with knowing this alone. But first I have to get home to him first, to my friend, Hendricks as he is. There’s nothing wrong with Hendricks-as-he-would be, he’s a good man and I can’t imagine that changing. But he’s not the friend-turned-bodyguard who puts my mind in order.
“You make a good point.” I nod. And there’s nothing I could do in the next fifteen minutes more productive than killing that waiting beer, wolfing down that sandwich, and wading through my half of that massive brownie.
What we talk about while we eat is trivial. It has to be trivial. I’m a man who engages in problems too easily: we both are. I wrap myself in the old comforter they gave me for their pull-out sofa bed and indulge in the pleasures of the flesh-- the other pleasures of the flesh-- and talk, of all things, about Aranovsky films, the comparative state of our newspaper comic pages, and which movies and radio stations I studied when I was polishing up my rough verbal edges to a boardroom shine.
“Tomorrow,” he says, as I’m down to the last few swallows of beer. “There’s a man we’re going to talk to. A friend of Harry’s, recently back from LA-- a minor celebrity, so you’ll be able to air-kiss in your native environment.”
I give him a graceless snort, warm and content in this safe place, full of food and good beer.
“Thommy White. Stylist to the stars.” He waggles his fingers in a pass at jazz hands. “Runs a cafe and haircut place. That’s one of his brownies you’re chowing down on.”
It rings a strange, discordant bell in my head. “Tall man. Pale skin, pale eyes, dark hair, cheekbones for miles, eats souls.”
“Oh, good, you know him.”
“You trust him? With Madeline Raith running the city?”
A shrug, one-shouldered. I trained myself out of that movement years ago. “He’s on the other side. And Harry trusts him, and I don’t think Harry’s being played here.” So that’s that, then. I nod, and dab the last crumbs of brownie from my plate.
“He’s Harry’s ally in my world, too.” There’s no guarantee that that would be a constant-- but I trust my double’s judgement. If he’s reckless about anything, it certainly isn’t his lover’s safety.
We’ve fucked, we’ve eaten, we’ve planned. I assume the surprises are over, but when I go to pop the catch that will turn their sofa into the bed I’ve been sleeping on for the past three nights, he stops me. “...not tonight, Marcone. Not after that.”
My hand slips off the catch, a tide of relief rising up in me, strong enough to make my muscles loose and fluttery. I hadn’t realized how much being alone would hurt, after being so... not alone, if only temporarily. I follow him into their bedroom, skirting along the wall so not to bash my knees into their real-estate dominating bed. It must have taken magic to get that mattress in in the first place.
Harry’s snoring, low and tolerable; Marcone throws me an extra pair of sweatpants to sleep in before he blows out the candles that light the room up, one by one. Harry shifts over as we crawl into bed, mumbling a pre-verbal question.
“Honey, the Beave had a nightmare. He’s sleeping with us tonight,” my double says fondly, and Harry gives a nearly coherent response, accepting it. He pats each of our left ears in the dark, fingers gentle on the ragged edge of mine, and draws me close, lying on his side with one arm across my chest, one folded up under the pillow under me. My double settles down against my other side, adjusting his position carefully and flinging a brotherly arm across my torso to rest his hand on Harry’s hip.
They fold me between them, welcoming me. This isn’t my Home.
But I’ve never felt like a more honored guest.
I’ll take on the world in the morning. Both of them.
This was so sweet! And hot! And whoa, two Marocnes, but the universe(s) didn't implode. ...Anon totally came out of this thinking Canon!Marcone got a bit more of a raw deal, but "The uncertainty he deals with, the losses he’s taken" had me :(((((
AND THOMMY WHITE? AND HENDRICKS? (:((((()
"...it’s so counter-intuitive and so extremely Dresden that he could be unselfconscious and uninhibited during a full-on screwing and now that it’s a little oral sex he doesn’t know how to handle himself" and NearMiss!Marcone the porno director lol.
Reread Near Miss and aaaaaah! aaah! Canonverse!Marcone uses the same trick giving NearMiss!Harry a blowjob as NearMiss!Marcone did. THAT'S SO AWESOME OMFG!!
I am so super-impressed by this. I want to plaster myself on the screen and spoon with this story. OMFG. This was amazing.
Agh, their complementary regrets, omfg, and how could you make it that SEXY, jfc, this was amazing and hurt-fluffy and am seriously stunned and oomph and turned on and impressed and and and. And.
Ohhh... This made me speechless, anon, this was so hurty and so good. You captured the NM relationship between Harry and John so perfectly... sure this isn't one of the original writers?? if you aren't, please take this as a compliment as the original story is just brilliant, one of my favourites! That contrast between happy NM!Harry and the love and trust he and John share and what's there in Marcone's world, you got that spot on, just the gut punch I had in mind while requesting this.
The sex was super hot. The level of understanding John and Marcone recognise in each other was, somehow, hotter. The fact that John could be generous, whereas Marcone can't see himself being that way... just says so much. Wibbling for Marcone throughout -- all the things he finds sweet about NM!Harry and contrasts with Harry-as-he-is for him; and how tries and fails to make his peace with the all the what-ifs, the Amanda Beckitt one got me hard -- the man deserves so many hugs :(
I can't even begin to quote all the lines that were brilliant... everything from the threshold to the the teasing Marcone about the way he spoke, the one-shouldered shrug to the radio stations to polish up their accent, and HENDRICKSSS <3 <3 AND THOMAS <33
Hi. I made the request with the nun punnery above.
Damn that was good. This was not only hot, it was brainly! Brainy. And hot. And at no time was I not aware of who was who, which in a M/m/m threesome when two of the people are the same person, is a minor miracle in the much larger miracle that is this fic. Also, did I mentioned the hot? And the thinky?
In long and in short.... I am unlikely to have firstborns; would you accept a virtual homemade cheesecake, or a Debauched Chocolate Chestnut Torte?
That was really well done. I love the contrasts and the similarities, and also the ways both Marcones were mapping them just as I was. The way they both want what the other has, but can't conceive of paying the necessary price... ow.
And Harry, so generous - it's not just John who's different in a world where he gets the love he needs.
This was really good. I love how the differences between the two Johns highlighted all their similiarities too. And I love, love, LOVE that Harry initiated the threesome, at least as far as Canonverse!Marcone tells it. Harry's different when he's loved too (how far after Near Miss is this set? Princess!), and I can't help but wonder how his reponse to some of those differences (like how the commentors have all been so sad) in Canonverse!John are reflected in his offer.
Like another commentor above, I have to wonder if you are one or both, I see you've answered some other prompt together, of the original authors, if only because if you are, then I want to know more about Thommy White and what happened to Hendricks? D:
This is a really great fill. I'd never really thought about AUs and canon colliding like this before, but I sure am now. (And I really hope some other anons are inspired to try their hand at this prompt too... I want more!)
So I'm not sure if we really fooled anyone staying anon on this one. One of the reasons we did was so it wouldn't be read as the last word: the situation is already an au (...off the au, I know) and I want to see other takes on it too. I'm hoping that people do try it out.
Good catch on Harry, by the way--NM Harry definitely doesn't like to see anyone shaped like John feeling lousy. He must have been feeling pretty ballsy when he out and suggested a three-way. But hey, Marcone's not so bad for an evil twin, and he fills out a suit nicely, so there's a bonus.
There's definitely a story on Thommy White (they're subtle, those brothers) and Hendricks--which optimistically we're actually going to get into a sequel. But let's just say that Hendricks stayed in the business (and is quietly part of the reason that John is still breathing) and it's a really crappy time to be a goomba in the Chicago mob.
I know I haven't answered all your questions--with luck Binz will come along and actually say something articulate. We're super glad you liked it, though.
I just realized you replied to me! And that you put this up at the archive of our own. With added bits! Harry might burn the house down if he watched a double-Marcone makeout. XD (If I called you out I'm so sorry. Anonymous meme etiquette says I don't get a cooke. :()
Thank you for answering my questions. I love Near Miss so much, I'm so happy for another taste! (And I still hope anyone else who wants to answer this prompt does... we all want more, right, Nonnies?) Fandom makes Hendricks so awesome. And a sequel! You just made my week. I hope you write it. :D
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 06:31 am (UTC)There’s an almost decadent loofah to scrub down with, some soap tailor made for sponge baths. But why not do it right, if you have to do this three weeks a month? I clean the sticky remainders of sex off, and my double makes a sandwich. No, two. Because he knows what I take, and he knows I’m ravenous after sex.
“Regrets?” he asks frankly, from his comfortable seat on the couch, left leg up on the coffee table. He’s sipping from a beer; its brother stands beside the second sandwich. MacAnally’s. There’s a giant cafe serving-sized brownie on a little napkin next to it, cut neatly in two. It’s remarkably distracting.
“No. But regrets that I don’t have regrets.” I kneel, dunk my head into the bucket, and scrub my fingers through my hair.
His laugh is knowing, rueful. “Because you think it was the wrong thing to do.”
“I need to get home. We need to track down the mirror and I have to find my way back to my universe. This-- this time I’ve wasted on a fantasy, it could have been put to better use.”
“Bull,” he tells me, as I wrap myself in one of their warm towels, use the other to scrape the last moisture off of my legs and out of my hair. “There’s no way Nathan is by your side seven days a week without reminding you of basic economics. It’s stupid to penalize anyone with a low income for buying the occasional luxury item; they couldn’t pay their rent any more easily if they had that twenty dollars back, the relative costs being what they are, and a really good meal will help their morale plenty more than an extra bill in their wallet. You’re time-poor, but there’s nothing we could have done with the last two hours but sit around here. We made good use of the time. And you can’t tell me your morale isn’t boosted.” His smile is knowing, gentle, generous.
He’s right, and it’s exactly what Hendricks would say, at that. ...Hendricks. I’m going to have to tell him about this. About what the course of one bullet can change. I can’t deal with knowing this alone. But first I have to get home to him first, to my friend, Hendricks as he is. There’s nothing wrong with Hendricks-as-he-would be, he’s a good man and I can’t imagine that changing. But he’s not the friend-turned-bodyguard who puts my mind in order.
“You make a good point.” I nod. And there’s nothing I could do in the next fifteen minutes more productive than killing that waiting beer, wolfing down that sandwich, and wading through my half of that massive brownie.
What we talk about while we eat is trivial. It has to be trivial. I’m a man who engages in problems too easily: we both are. I wrap myself in the old comforter they gave me for their pull-out sofa bed and indulge in the pleasures of the flesh-- the other pleasures of the flesh-- and talk, of all things, about Aranovsky films, the comparative state of our newspaper comic pages, and which movies and radio stations I studied when I was polishing up my rough verbal edges to a boardroom shine.
“Tomorrow,” he says, as I’m down to the last few swallows of beer. “There’s a man we’re going to talk to. A friend of Harry’s, recently back from LA-- a minor celebrity, so you’ll be able to air-kiss in your native environment.”
I give him a graceless snort, warm and content in this safe place, full of food and good beer.
“Thommy White. Stylist to the stars.” He waggles his fingers in a pass at jazz hands. “Runs a cafe and haircut place. That’s one of his brownies you’re chowing down on.”
It rings a strange, discordant bell in my head. “Tall man. Pale skin, pale eyes, dark hair, cheekbones for miles, eats souls.”
“Oh, good, you know him.”
“You trust him? With Madeline Raith running the city?”
A shrug, one-shouldered. I trained myself out of that movement years ago. “He’s on the other side. And Harry trusts him, and I don’t think Harry’s being played here.” So that’s that, then. I nod, and dab the last crumbs of brownie from my plate.
“He’s Harry’s ally in my world, too.” There’s no guarantee that that would be a constant-- but I trust my double’s judgement. If he’s reckless about anything, it certainly isn’t his lover’s safety.
We’ve fucked, we’ve eaten, we’ve planned. I assume the surprises are over, but when I go to pop the catch that will turn their sofa into the bed I’ve been sleeping on for the past three nights, he stops me. “...not tonight, Marcone. Not after that.”
My hand slips off the catch, a tide of relief rising up in me, strong enough to make my muscles loose and fluttery. I hadn’t realized how much being alone would hurt, after being so... not alone, if only temporarily. I follow him into their bedroom, skirting along the wall so not to bash my knees into their real-estate dominating bed. It must have taken magic to get that mattress in in the first place.
Harry’s snoring, low and tolerable; Marcone throws me an extra pair of sweatpants to sleep in before he blows out the candles that light the room up, one by one. Harry shifts over as we crawl into bed, mumbling a pre-verbal question.
“Honey, the Beave had a nightmare. He’s sleeping with us tonight,” my double says fondly, and Harry gives a nearly coherent response, accepting it. He pats each of our left ears in the dark, fingers gentle on the ragged edge of mine, and draws me close, lying on his side with one arm across my chest, one folded up under the pillow under me. My double settles down against my other side, adjusting his position carefully and flinging a brotherly arm across my torso to rest his hand on Harry’s hip.
They fold me between them, welcoming me. This isn’t my Home.
But I’ve never felt like a more honored guest.
I’ll take on the world in the morning. Both of them.
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 06:57 am (UTC)Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 07:44 am (UTC)Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 07:51 am (UTC)AND THOMMY WHITE? AND HENDRICKS? (:((((()
"...it’s so counter-intuitive and so extremely Dresden that he could be unselfconscious and uninhibited during a full-on screwing and now that it’s a little oral sex he doesn’t know how to handle himself" and NearMiss!Marcone the porno director lol.
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 06:42 pm (UTC)Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 08:29 am (UTC)I am so super-impressed by this. I want to plaster myself on the screen and spoon with this story. OMFG. This was amazing.
Agh, their complementary regrets, omfg, and how could you make it that SEXY, jfc, this was amazing and hurt-fluffy and am seriously stunned and oomph and turned on and impressed and and and. And.
Whewf.
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 12:47 pm (UTC)Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 02:12 pm (UTC)Ohhh... This made me speechless, anon, this was so hurty and so good. You captured the NM relationship between Harry and John so perfectly... sure this isn't one of the original writers?? if you aren't, please take this as a compliment as the original story is just brilliant, one of my favourites! That contrast between happy NM!Harry and the love and trust he and John share and what's there in Marcone's world, you got that spot on, just the gut punch I had in mind while requesting this.
The sex was super hot. The level of understanding John and Marcone recognise in each other was, somehow, hotter. The fact that John could be generous, whereas Marcone can't see himself being that way... just says so much. Wibbling for Marcone throughout -- all the things he finds sweet about NM!Harry and contrasts with Harry-as-he-is for him; and how tries and fails to make his peace with the all the what-ifs, the Amanda Beckitt one got me hard -- the man deserves so many hugs :(
I can't even begin to quote all the lines that were brilliant... everything from the threshold to the the teasing Marcone about the way he spoke, the one-shouldered shrug to the radio stations to polish up their accent, and HENDRICKSSS <3 <3 AND THOMAS <33
Thank you for this brilliant fill!
*still blown away by it, goes back for a re read*
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 07:29 pm (UTC)Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 10:45 pm (UTC)Damn that was good.
This was not only hot, it was brainly! Brainy. And hot. And at no time was I not aware of who was who, which in a M/m/m threesome when two of the people are the same person, is a minor miracle in the much larger miracle that is this fic.
Also, did I mentioned the hot? And the thinky?
In long and in short....
I am unlikely to have firstborns; would you accept a virtual homemade cheesecake, or a Debauched Chocolate Chestnut Torte?
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-27 11:59 pm (UTC)And Harry, so generous - it's not just John who's different in a world where he gets the love he needs.
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-28 10:09 pm (UTC)Like another commentor above, I have to wonder if you are one or both, I see you've answered some other prompt together, of the original authors, if only because if you are, then I want to know more about Thommy White and what happened to Hendricks? D:
This is a really great fill. I'd never really thought about AUs and canon colliding like this before, but I sure am now. (And I really hope some other anons are inspired to try their hand at this prompt too... I want more!)
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-02-28 10:38 pm (UTC)Good catch on Harry, by the way--NM Harry definitely doesn't like to see anyone shaped like John feeling lousy. He must have been feeling pretty ballsy when he out and suggested a three-way. But hey, Marcone's not so bad for an evil twin, and he fills out a suit nicely, so there's a bonus.
There's definitely a story on Thommy White (they're subtle, those brothers) and Hendricks--which optimistically we're actually going to get into a sequel. But let's just say that Hendricks stayed in the business (and is quietly part of the reason that John is still breathing) and it's a really crappy time to be a goomba in the Chicago mob.
I know I haven't answered all your questions--with luck Binz will come along and actually say something articulate. We're super glad you liked it, though.
Re: Fill: 3-way Mirror 2/2
Date: 2011-03-01 03:33 pm (UTC)Thank you for answering my questions. I love Near Miss so much, I'm so happy for another taste! (And I still hope anyone else who wants to answer this prompt does... we all want more, right, Nonnies?) Fandom makes Hendricks so awesome. And a sequel! You just made my week. I hope you write it. :D
Alternative Link -- 3-Way Mirror
Date: 2011-03-09 03:09 pm (UTC)With a little bit extra padded in the story, because why stop poking if you don't have to?