raith_rogue | To Kill a Puck--the debriefing

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To Kill a Puck--the debriefing

Thomas was pacing. Prowling. He had a poisoned and recovering puck in his bed, he'd spent an uncomfortable, restless night on the couch, and his demon was all for taking advantage of the weakened state of his houseguest, which was the main reason for the pacing.

Also, because Harry was supposed to be there. He hadn't pushed when Harry had asked if it could wait until morning, because he wasn't sure just how serious the current situation was--probably not 'drop everything and get over here' serious, at any rate. But now it was morning, and Thomas was hungry and had had about three cups of coffee too many, and he just wanted Harry to get here so he could have something to distract him. Oh, and because Harry could probably help, if anyone could, but at the moment that was secondary.

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Robin had slept like the dead - which meant it was probably lucky he'd woken up at all considering the poison that his puck innards had been working overtime to neutralize. But now he woke with a headache that felt like the hangover from hell, and an erection that he irritably thought was probably just as much the fault of Thomas' frustrating proximity as any typical morning wood issues.

He patted the bandages on his chest, and then finding himself in one piece, groaned a little and swung his feet over the side of the bed, rising.

"By Zeus' left tit and all that is holy, I don't think I've had a hangover like this since that drinking contest with Bacchus," Robin moaned, padding out of the bedroom and scrubbing his hand wearing over his eyes. "Thomas, I hope you've got your magnificent ass out of bed already, because I need some coffee and a blow job, not necessarily in that or - "

He cut himself off then, because he'd woken up enough upon walking into the living room to see that Thomas had company. "Oh, that makes things easier," he said. "You can make the coffee."

Thomas straightened as Robin came in, unable to keep a faintly amused expression from his face. This was going to be interesting. "Ah, you're awake. Good. We were just talking about you. Harry, meet Robin." All of him, and didn't that just figure? "Robin, this is the wizard I was trying to tell you about while dragging you back here."

For a brief moment Harry thought he was hallucinating, because his mind couldn't quite process exactly what he was hearing, and hey--he was functioning on little sleep. But, no. There was a very naked man talking about blowjobs while sporting....well, Harry hadn't actually seen one that big in person before. He stared for a moment before self-consciously shifting his gaze away.

Suddenly, for no reason at all, he could understand why this Robin might be attracting people who wanted to kill him.

"...right," he said slowly. "I'm going to....um. Go. I think."

Seeming entirely unfazed by any awkwardness (or his own nudity), Robin looked at the newcomer for a moment without expression, and then turned and looked at Thomas. "Oh, he's a big help," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Glad you called in the crack team there, sunshine."

Though before either could say anything, he looked back to the man and added, "You're a PI or something, right? Here, take a description. Big, scaly, ugly. I mean, it can't be that hard to find a sirrush, follow the sounds of the screams. Better yet, just wait for me to do it. I can clear out a nest of the things in the time it takes you to get that smell out of your shirt."

He yawned and stretched his hands over his head.

"Don't even think about it," Thomas muttered to Harry, snagging his duster so he couldn't escape as easily as he wanted to.

"And you can go put on my robe," he said in Robin's direction. "Not everyone wants to see you prancing around naked." Of course, Thomas didn't include himself in that group, which was hard to hide as his eyes lightened several shades, almost silvery as he watched Robin.

Harry gave Thomas a baleful glance, but glumly accepted that he was going to be stuck here with the naked, cheerful...something. Not-quite human, if his wizard-senses weren't lying to him.

He ignored most of what Robin said and focused on the term. "Sirrush?" he repeated. He'd have to ask Bob. In fact, he should go ask Bob right now. Except that Thomas had hooked his hand in his duster to keep him there.

At Thomas' comment, Robin snorted disdainfully. "Of course they do," he said. "Though not everyone should be so lucky."

Still, as much as he liked being contrary, Thomas had done him a hell of a favor, and he could appreciate that much, at least. So he turned, displaying his own magnificent ass as he walked back to the bedroom to pull on Thomas' robe.

"Charming, isn't he?" Thomas drawled as Robin departed, releasing his hold on Harry to move around the bar and get himself another cup of coffee. What the hell, he'd probably need it. "A sirrush. That's what he called that thing, yeah."

Harry moved away from Thomas as soon as he was released, but refrained from glaring again. "Okay. I'll talk to Bob." He glanced towards Thomas's bedroom and then back at his brother. "What is he?" he asked softly.

"He's...a puck," Thomas answered just as softly. "A faerie...sort of. Nothing like any fae I've ever encountered, though," he was quick to add.

"Hell's bells," Harry swore, because didn't that just figure? "What court?"

It didn't take Robin long to find the robe and throw it on (he even cinched it shut), and he walked back in just in time to catch that.

"Court," he repeated with clear disdain. "Honestly. I was around before your fae knew how to count their own toes, let along organize into an arbitrary monarchy."

Thomas arched an eyebrow at Robin's reply. It wasn't a question he'd known the answer to, but he found it hard to believe that Robin was that old.

Then again, he didn't believe two-thirds of what came out of Robin's mouth, so he just lumped this time in with those and poured him a cup of coffee. "Here. Tell Harry about the..." he couldn't remember the name and didn't think that was the important part anyway, "the scorpion-men. And any other attempts we haven't gotten around to discussing--at least in the last few weeks. We don't need to hear about all of the no doubt countless attempts on your life."

Which meant that Robin was some kind of....wildfae. Old. Powerful, even if not necessarily magical. Which, admittedly, intimidated Harry a little--not that he was going to let it show.

"Can't imagine why you'd be such a popular target," he quipped, and held out his cup for Thomas to refill, batting his eyelashes.

"Jealousy," Robin said flatly, and took the cup of coffee from Thomas. He took a sip and sighed. "Not the best I've had, Thomas. If your friend is going to distract us from other activities you could at least break out the good stuff." But without waiting for a response he waived a hand flippantly and said, "Scorpion men. Very inconvenient. I mean, as if bodies aren't difficult enough to dispose of in general, try the seven foot tall and covered with an exoskeleton sort."

Thomas refilled Harry's cup and put the nearly-empty carafe back into place. He completely agreed with Harry's smart-ass assessment, but as he was personally rather fond of Robin, annoying as he could be, he kept silent on the matter. It was counterproductive to encourage Harry's snarking, anyway. Harry would do plenty of it without help.

"Hey, I'm more than happy to leave," Harry said, sharply. Far be it from him to get between Thomas and a meal, as willing a meal as Robin appeared to be. "Surrish and scorpion men trying to kill you. Got it. My advice? Stay indoors."

Robin lifted a brow at that. "Oh, he is jealous," he said, and glanced at Thomas. "I should have known you'd be popular, kitten." Then back to Harry. "Well - Harry, is it? - the problem with staying indoors, Harry, is the mess and expense of cleaning up broken plate glass windows that the nasties seem intent upon busting through. Now for some reason Thomas seems very confident in whatever it is you do, so I will say this - if you can work your magic in my direction in such a way that I can relax and keep my hand away from my sword - the metal one, that is - then I'm willing to pay for it."

Thomas shot a quick sidelong look at Harry at Robin's comment and then shook his head. "It's not like that between us," he said, and left it at that. He may like Robin, may even trust him a little at this point, but he wasn't about to tell him about his relationship to Harry. The fewer people that knew that the better.

"It's really not like that," Harry reiterated, insistently, because it wasn't, no matter what crazy dream he might have had the other day. And he was tempted to leave, but Thomas gave him this look like he was maybe letting him down and Harry sighed.

He took off his Dead Man's bracelet and held it out to Robin with a solemn expression. "This will protect you from nasties--at least a little bit. And it's tied to me, so if you do get into trouble, I'll know about it." He'd been particularly proud of that little spell he'd woven in there. Who said he couldn't learn from his mistakes?

"To do more I'll need a few things, but we'll start with the address to where this thing attacked you."

Robin did not take the bracelet. In fact, he looked down at it as if it were likely to attack him any second.

"You're joking," he said. "Nothing touches this skin but solid gold. Preferably designed by someone with far too many syllables in their name."

"Take the damn bracelet," Thomas growled. "Your vanity puts mine to shame, and that's saying something." He set his coffee down to grab a notepad and jot the address of Robin's car lot for Harry.

Harry took some perverse delight in handing Robin his tarnished silver bracelet held together by a dirty and stained leather thong.

"Your vanity or your life," he said, and shrugged. "I'll also need some uh....samples. Bodily fluids, hair...that kind of thing."

After a petulant glare at Thomas, Robin plucked up the bracelet from Harry as if it were covered in slime. Reluctantly, he slid it onto his wrist. "Fashion or life," he muttered, as if weighing the options seriously.

Though at Harry's next comment, he looked up again with a smirk settling on his lips. "Bodily fluids? Well, that's easy enough. I know Thomas isn't the jealous sort. Though I must insist you shower first. You look like the underside of Hermes' winged boots."

Thomas coughed to keep from laughing. Harry had walked right into that one, truly he had. He tore off the piece of paper with the address written on it and set it next to Harry. He didn't want anything to distract from this moment.

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