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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There was a knock at Thomas's door, and a weary wizard on the other side of it.

What he hadn't told Thomas over the phone was that he'd been a little busy being sent on a wild goose chase across Kin tracking a demon. He'd given up at dawn, and then staggered home only to remember that he'd promised Thomas to come over and deal with...something. He couldn't remember what, but he wasn't sure if that was because he'd forgotten or because Thomas had never told him what it was in the first place. So back in the blue beetle it was, and then past the doorman, who gave him a strange leer when he'd asked to be buzzed up to Thomas's penthouse, and now he waited, looking like death warmed over.

Thomas yanked the door open. "Good. You're here." He blinked, then added, "You look like hell." And with a sniff, "...and you need a shower. Empty Night, what have you been doing?"

Harry shot Thomas a glare, not wanting to talk about it. "I'd be getting one now if a certain relative of mine hadn't insisted I come over."

Thomas rolled his eyes, immune to Harry-glares. "I'm trying to get you work. Now come in and have some coffee."

Harry grunted at the promise of work--but perked up at the suggestion of coffee. He made a beeline for the kitchen and poured himself a cup without waiting for an invitation. He inhaled half of it in one gulp, eyes closed as he savored the taste and waited for the familiar buzz of caffeine that signlled the return of his brain cells.

See? Thomas was a good brother. He caffeinated before trying to talk. Harry could take a page from his book.

He waited until Harry stopped guzzling coffee, then leaned against the bar, arms folded. "Someone I know is the target of an assassination attempt." He thought about Robin for a moment, then added under his breath, "At least one."

"...okay." Harry cradled the coffee mug in both hands. "You know they have police to deal with that kind of thing?"

"Right. That absolutely didn't occur to me. So I'll just give them a call and tell them about the giant Babylonian lizard-thing with poisonous claws that tried to kill us last night, and they'll get right on it," Thomas said dryly.

The coffee mug paused halfway to Harry's mouth, and his mouth moved as if to speak, but he thought better of it, opting instead to finish the mug and pour a second before asking, "Say that again?"

"Big, like 7 feet. Part lizard or serpent of some sort. Talons like a hawk, I think. It moved fast, I didn't stop to take pictures." Thomas smiled sweetly and leaned across the bar to steal Harry's coffee cup, taking a sip before returning it to his hands. "Do I have your attention now, or should I just ring up KCPD and send you on your way?"

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."

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