raith_rogue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raith_rogue) wrote2011-03-02 09:58 pm
raith_rogue) wrote2011-03-02 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
By the dawn's early light
There was one thing Thomas had always appreciated about Harry's basement lodgings; the small, high windows were kind enough to not let a lot of morning sunlight in when one was sleeping a hangover off on the couch.
Mister, on the other hand, knew nothing of kindness as he walked across Thomas' face and down his body, ignoring the 'oof' and the groan that followed as he leapt from the arm of the couch to the top of the bookcase where he gave Thomas a disinterested look in response to the bleary glare he was receiving.
"I always did love Mouse more," Thomas grumbled, cranky, and pulled the blanket over his head as he rolled over on his side, back to the room. Stupid cat.
Though the apartment was still dark, and silent, there was a large, wrapped package in shiny white paper next to Thomas's head, and a small bottle with a handwritten tag of Hangover in Harry's memorable scrawl.
Thomas noticed the package, somewhere in the back of his mind, but he was nearly asleep again before before it really registered, what it was, why it was there. "Harrrrry," he groaned, turning back over to stare at the package, then at the bottle. It seemed almost not worth the effort of moving to reach for it, even if Thomas trusted Harry's potions and therefore that it would do as advertised. What it would taste like was another matter.
Thomas sat up carefully, holding his head until the room stopped tilting. The hangover wasn't as bad as it should have been, thanks to his demon, but it was still bad enough to make him reach out and pick up the waiting bottle, opening it to take a sniff. "...Ugh You need to learn how to make them cherry-flavored," he muttered grumpily before taking a deep breath and downing the contents, grimacing as he set the bottle down with a thump.
Harry could hear Thomas talking in the other room and shook his head. It was, after all, just a dream, and it wasn't his fault at all. Thomas was an incubus--it was genetic. He'd probably zapped Harry with some kind of vampire mojo accidentally while he was drunk. That was all.
He got up and grabbed his robe, then padded out to the living room to see how the drunken incubus was fairing. "Good morning," he said, cheerfully, and maybe just a little bit louder than necessary.
"Unh," Thomas replied, cranky. He could feel the effects of the potion already starting, but that didn't make him any more of a morning person. He amended his initial grunt with, "Coffee."
"Still not a morning person," Harry observed, smile wry. He made his way to the kitchen and took out the coffee press and pre-ground coffee, then filled the kettle and put it on the wood stove to boil. They did things the old-fashioned way in this house--by necessity, not eccentricity.
Thomas let his head fall into his hands, knowing it would be a few minutes before he could get properly caffeinated. "...You didn't have to get me anything," he muttered after a minute.
"What do you get the man who has everything?" Harry mocked. He shrugged a shoulder. "You're my brother. I get to give you presents whether you like it or not."
"Yeah, yeah." Thomas lifted his head, looking over at Harry. "I'll open it as soon as I'm awake."
Harry shrugged again, keeping his back to Thomas. His heart was still racing as if he'd taken a perk-me-up potion and he moved towards the icebox, staring blankly. "Hungry?"
Thomas grunted and gave a faint shake of his head. "Nuh."
"You sure? You didn't eat much last night. Food, I mean. And uh...here. I have no idea if you ate...out." Smooth, Harry. Really smooth.
Thomas sighed and leaned back against the couch. "I didn't. Eat out. Food or otherwise," he answered darkly. "I just want coffee."
As if answering his wishes, the kettle began to whistle, and Harry moved to take it off the stove, grateful for the distraction. He filled the coffee press with grounds and water and then slowly moved the plunger down. "Maybe you should have," he muttered.
Thomas heard, of course he did. His enhanced hearing made sure of that. His jaw tightened but he didn't say anything, just stretched out on the couch again, tangled up in the blanket Harry had covered him with last night.
Harry poured two mugs of coffee and brought one to Thomas without saying anything further. Mouse padded out of his bedroom with an impressive yawn and stretched, front legs first, then back legs as he walked towards the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. "None for you, bud," he said, crossly. "I think Mister's still traumatized from the last time you lapped up some caffeine."
"Dear God," Thomas exclaimed at the very thought, getting up on one elbow and reaching out for the coffee. "I shudder to think."
"Yeah, pretty much," Harry agreed. Once Thomas had his cup, he settled in his favorite armchair, inhaling the aroma greedily.
Thomas spent a few minutes just sucking down the hot coffee, feeling it start to kick in, perking him up far better than the burn of the hangover potion. "Bless you," he murmured finally, raising grey eyes from the coffee to his brother.
Harry didn't answer, too absorbed in his own cup, but nodded, acknowledging his thanks. Mouse finally moved from the kitchen to curl up at Thomas's feet. Or, well, on them.
That was okay, Thomas wasn't going anywhere just yet. And it was kind of nice, in a way. Just like when they'd been living together. It was easy to forget how they'd gotten on each other's nerves, to just remember how nice it had been to see Harry regularly, to have someone there who would always have his back. He knew Harry was still there if he needed him, but it wasn't quite the same, these days. "So. Should I open it now?" he asked, letting one hand fall away from the coffee cup to reach out and touch the wrapped package.
"It's your birthday," Harry replied with a shrug. "Technically it's late, so...."
Thomas nodded, took another sip of coffee, then set it aside and pulled the present onto his lap. He tore away the paper carelessly, and then stared at the box beneath it. "...Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots?" he read, looking up at Harry with a confused expression.
"Yeah," Harry's expression was guarded. "Old Earth toy. You know how they keep bringing everything back....next it's Ataris and Nintendos."
"Uh huh. Like you've been anywhere near a video game system." Thomas opened the box, just to make sure--yep, it really was what the box said. "And...why did you get me a toy?"
Harry pursed his lips and lifted his eyes from his coffee to Thomas's face. "When my dad died...before I went to live with...." Justin. But he wouldn't say his name. "I spent Christmas in an orphanage. And that year the 'it' toy was Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. They had these commercials...two boys playing with them. Two brothers. And more than anything...I wanted to give those robots to my brother."
Okay, now it made more sense. "So...you did." He looked up and smiled at Harry, a little awkwardly. "Thanks. I think." He wasn't sure what he was ever going to do with them, but the sentiment behind the gift...that was something neither of them were used to expressing, familial love.
"Thirty years late," Harry said, his expression turning wry. "I didn't even know I had a brother at the time. But I wanted one. Oh, the innocence of youth...."
"But now you have one." Thomas smirked. "And you know what a pain in the ass it is."
"At least what a pain in the ass you are," Harry shot back. Banter was much more familiar ground for them than sentimentality.
"I do try," Thomas breezed, smiling beatifically. "It's good to know my efforts are appreciated."
The comment earned a snort from his long-suffering brother. "I see the hangover potion is kicking in."
"Thanks. For that," Thomas said simply, flashing a quick smile. "And for last night. Sorry about anything I said..." Or did.
"So...you don't really think that I could be as good looking as you are with the right hairstyle?"
Thomas rolled his eyes. "I wasn't that drunk," he drawled.
Harry grinned. "No. You weren't. So...there's nothing to apologize for. Except maybe your singing."
And the almost-kiss, but if Harry wasn't going to mention that, Thomas would happily pretend he didn't remember it. "I sang? Lucky you..."
"Yeah, it's almost like it's my birthday, too," Harry said, dryly. Mister paused from his bath to walk across Harry's lap and curl up like he belonged there.
Thomas chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd ask if I could take a shower before I go, but...I don't trust your water heater." He grabbed his coffee and drained the rest of it. "So I'll just shower back at my place."
"The water heater?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's the fact that I don't have any of those foofy perfumed shampoos and washes?"
"That certainly doesn't help your shower's case." Thomas got to his feet, setting his coffee cup on the table and tucking his present under his arm. "I'll see you later, Harry. Thanks again for the weirdly sweet gift."
Harry wouldn't admit it, but he was actually a little hurt that Thomas didn't want to open said weirdly sweet present and actually, well, play with it. But he shrugged casually. "I thought you didn't like the taste of hangover potion."
"I don't. It's nasty. But it's better than the taste of a hangover." Thomas grinned and headed for the door.
Mouse, perhaps sensing Harry's mood, moved from his position on the couch to lay his head on Harry's leg. Harry absently scratched the foo dog behind the ears. "So...I'll see you later?"
"Of course." Thomas nodded, gave a little wave, and was out the door.
Harry watched him go, exchanged a look with Mouse, and then stood up to get another cup of coffee. "Ingrate," he grumped. "Not you," he assured the dog hastily.
Mister, on the other hand, knew nothing of kindness as he walked across Thomas' face and down his body, ignoring the 'oof' and the groan that followed as he leapt from the arm of the couch to the top of the bookcase where he gave Thomas a disinterested look in response to the bleary glare he was receiving.
"I always did love Mouse more," Thomas grumbled, cranky, and pulled the blanket over his head as he rolled over on his side, back to the room. Stupid cat.
Though the apartment was still dark, and silent, there was a large, wrapped package in shiny white paper next to Thomas's head, and a small bottle with a handwritten tag of Hangover in Harry's memorable scrawl.
Thomas noticed the package, somewhere in the back of his mind, but he was nearly asleep again before before it really registered, what it was, why it was there. "Harrrrry," he groaned, turning back over to stare at the package, then at the bottle. It seemed almost not worth the effort of moving to reach for it, even if Thomas trusted Harry's potions and therefore that it would do as advertised. What it would taste like was another matter.
Thomas sat up carefully, holding his head until the room stopped tilting. The hangover wasn't as bad as it should have been, thanks to his demon, but it was still bad enough to make him reach out and pick up the waiting bottle, opening it to take a sniff. "...Ugh You need to learn how to make them cherry-flavored," he muttered grumpily before taking a deep breath and downing the contents, grimacing as he set the bottle down with a thump.
Harry could hear Thomas talking in the other room and shook his head. It was, after all, just a dream, and it wasn't his fault at all. Thomas was an incubus--it was genetic. He'd probably zapped Harry with some kind of vampire mojo accidentally while he was drunk. That was all.
He got up and grabbed his robe, then padded out to the living room to see how the drunken incubus was fairing. "Good morning," he said, cheerfully, and maybe just a little bit louder than necessary.
"Unh," Thomas replied, cranky. He could feel the effects of the potion already starting, but that didn't make him any more of a morning person. He amended his initial grunt with, "Coffee."
"Still not a morning person," Harry observed, smile wry. He made his way to the kitchen and took out the coffee press and pre-ground coffee, then filled the kettle and put it on the wood stove to boil. They did things the old-fashioned way in this house--by necessity, not eccentricity.
Thomas let his head fall into his hands, knowing it would be a few minutes before he could get properly caffeinated. "...You didn't have to get me anything," he muttered after a minute.
"What do you get the man who has everything?" Harry mocked. He shrugged a shoulder. "You're my brother. I get to give you presents whether you like it or not."
"Yeah, yeah." Thomas lifted his head, looking over at Harry. "I'll open it as soon as I'm awake."
Harry shrugged again, keeping his back to Thomas. His heart was still racing as if he'd taken a perk-me-up potion and he moved towards the icebox, staring blankly. "Hungry?"
Thomas grunted and gave a faint shake of his head. "Nuh."
"You sure? You didn't eat much last night. Food, I mean. And uh...here. I have no idea if you ate...out." Smooth, Harry. Really smooth.
Thomas sighed and leaned back against the couch. "I didn't. Eat out. Food or otherwise," he answered darkly. "I just want coffee."
As if answering his wishes, the kettle began to whistle, and Harry moved to take it off the stove, grateful for the distraction. He filled the coffee press with grounds and water and then slowly moved the plunger down. "Maybe you should have," he muttered.
Thomas heard, of course he did. His enhanced hearing made sure of that. His jaw tightened but he didn't say anything, just stretched out on the couch again, tangled up in the blanket Harry had covered him with last night.
Harry poured two mugs of coffee and brought one to Thomas without saying anything further. Mouse padded out of his bedroom with an impressive yawn and stretched, front legs first, then back legs as he walked towards the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. "None for you, bud," he said, crossly. "I think Mister's still traumatized from the last time you lapped up some caffeine."
"Dear God," Thomas exclaimed at the very thought, getting up on one elbow and reaching out for the coffee. "I shudder to think."
"Yeah, pretty much," Harry agreed. Once Thomas had his cup, he settled in his favorite armchair, inhaling the aroma greedily.
Thomas spent a few minutes just sucking down the hot coffee, feeling it start to kick in, perking him up far better than the burn of the hangover potion. "Bless you," he murmured finally, raising grey eyes from the coffee to his brother.
Harry didn't answer, too absorbed in his own cup, but nodded, acknowledging his thanks. Mouse finally moved from the kitchen to curl up at Thomas's feet. Or, well, on them.
That was okay, Thomas wasn't going anywhere just yet. And it was kind of nice, in a way. Just like when they'd been living together. It was easy to forget how they'd gotten on each other's nerves, to just remember how nice it had been to see Harry regularly, to have someone there who would always have his back. He knew Harry was still there if he needed him, but it wasn't quite the same, these days. "So. Should I open it now?" he asked, letting one hand fall away from the coffee cup to reach out and touch the wrapped package.
"It's your birthday," Harry replied with a shrug. "Technically it's late, so...."
Thomas nodded, took another sip of coffee, then set it aside and pulled the present onto his lap. He tore away the paper carelessly, and then stared at the box beneath it. "...Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots?" he read, looking up at Harry with a confused expression.
"Yeah," Harry's expression was guarded. "Old Earth toy. You know how they keep bringing everything back....next it's Ataris and Nintendos."
"Uh huh. Like you've been anywhere near a video game system." Thomas opened the box, just to make sure--yep, it really was what the box said. "And...why did you get me a toy?"
Harry pursed his lips and lifted his eyes from his coffee to Thomas's face. "When my dad died...before I went to live with...." Justin. But he wouldn't say his name. "I spent Christmas in an orphanage. And that year the 'it' toy was Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. They had these commercials...two boys playing with them. Two brothers. And more than anything...I wanted to give those robots to my brother."
Okay, now it made more sense. "So...you did." He looked up and smiled at Harry, a little awkwardly. "Thanks. I think." He wasn't sure what he was ever going to do with them, but the sentiment behind the gift...that was something neither of them were used to expressing, familial love.
"Thirty years late," Harry said, his expression turning wry. "I didn't even know I had a brother at the time. But I wanted one. Oh, the innocence of youth...."
"But now you have one." Thomas smirked. "And you know what a pain in the ass it is."
"At least what a pain in the ass you are," Harry shot back. Banter was much more familiar ground for them than sentimentality.
"I do try," Thomas breezed, smiling beatifically. "It's good to know my efforts are appreciated."
The comment earned a snort from his long-suffering brother. "I see the hangover potion is kicking in."
"Thanks. For that," Thomas said simply, flashing a quick smile. "And for last night. Sorry about anything I said..." Or did.
"So...you don't really think that I could be as good looking as you are with the right hairstyle?"
Thomas rolled his eyes. "I wasn't that drunk," he drawled.
Harry grinned. "No. You weren't. So...there's nothing to apologize for. Except maybe your singing."
And the almost-kiss, but if Harry wasn't going to mention that, Thomas would happily pretend he didn't remember it. "I sang? Lucky you..."
"Yeah, it's almost like it's my birthday, too," Harry said, dryly. Mister paused from his bath to walk across Harry's lap and curl up like he belonged there.
Thomas chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd ask if I could take a shower before I go, but...I don't trust your water heater." He grabbed his coffee and drained the rest of it. "So I'll just shower back at my place."
"The water heater?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's the fact that I don't have any of those foofy perfumed shampoos and washes?"
"That certainly doesn't help your shower's case." Thomas got to his feet, setting his coffee cup on the table and tucking his present under his arm. "I'll see you later, Harry. Thanks again for the weirdly sweet gift."
Harry wouldn't admit it, but he was actually a little hurt that Thomas didn't want to open said weirdly sweet present and actually, well, play with it. But he shrugged casually. "I thought you didn't like the taste of hangover potion."
"I don't. It's nasty. But it's better than the taste of a hangover." Thomas grinned and headed for the door.
Mouse, perhaps sensing Harry's mood, moved from his position on the couch to lay his head on Harry's leg. Harry absently scratched the foo dog behind the ears. "So...I'll see you later?"
"Of course." Thomas nodded, gave a little wave, and was out the door.
Harry watched him go, exchanged a look with Mouse, and then stood up to get another cup of coffee. "Ingrate," he grumped. "Not you," he assured the dog hastily.