Fic: The Weather Outside is Frightful [Slow and Steady Series]

[jade_dragoness]

Title: The Weather Outside is Frightful
Author: J.D. aka jade_dragoness
Series: Slow and Steady, Story #4
Rating: PG
Pairing: Marcone/Dresden; one-sided, kinda
Spoilers: None
Summary: Harry loves air-conditioning, even if it comes from Marcone.
Word Count: 1,565
Disclaimer: Never ever will be mine. *sadness*
A/N: Fourth fic done for cliche_bingo. For the square # 11 - Heat. Inspired by Chicago residents on my f-list that were bemoaning the summer heat and then proclaiming their OTP love with the A/C. Aw, f-list.
Feedback is hugely welcomed. Feel free to point out any errors I missed.
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Prequel found here: Mob Bosses Make Great Mother Hens
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I staggered down the sidewalk, wishing I had the strength to swear as heat pooled under my leather coat. It felt like an oven under the dark leather. The mantle felt like it weighed a couple of tons. It didn’t help at all that the summer sun was unrelenting and some bastard had set the humidity at the level of tropical jungle.

I never wanted to die more at any point in my life.

I groaned and stopped at a light pole, leaning against it as I panted for air. I was sweating so much that I was sticking to the pole. Or maybe it was just the pole.

Why? Why did I have to have the sort of case that meant I had to wear the protection offered by my coat? And why, by all the stars in the sky, did the Blue Beetle have to chose now to die again?

I love my car. Truly, I do. I wouldn’t hold on to it for so long if I didn’t have some affection for it. But sometimes… lets just say that I while I’m at it I’m wishing for four-wheel drive and the sort of A/C that could make a sauna feel like a walk in a fridge.

A predatory rumble of a car engine made me turn to face the street.

A black limousine idled to a stop, right in front of me. I peeked at the driver and saw the familiar hulking shape of Hendricks, glowering at me through the windows.

I twiddled my fingers in his direction, not even feeling like being more of my smart-ass self. Hey, maybe I was dying. There was a happy thought.

“Dresden.”

I shifted my eyes to see Gentleman Johnny Marcone looking at me with amusement. He opened the door to the limo, and the blast of cold air that hit me nearly made me fall over in delight.

Stars and stones that felt good. Even just a few feet away, it felt like heaven was beckoning.

No! I must resist. That coolness was like the apple being offered by the serpent. A serpent named Marcone.

“Really, Dresden. What do you think I‘ll do to you in my car?” asked Marcone, when I didn‘t move from my light pole. “You won‘t survive on your feet for long considering how you currently look. You are aware that people have died of heat prostration from lower temperatures than this? And they certainly were not wearing that coat.”

Then Marcone offered me the one thing I could not resist. A glass tumbler full of ice water.

I just about fell into the car, landing on the floor with a thud. I sat up with a groan before I grabbed the water from his offering hand.

“I still don’t like you,” I told Marcone, between gulps of thirst clenching ambrosia.

“I‘m sure that you don‘t,” replied Marcone, his voice still amused. The corners of his mouth twitched.

I finished the glass with a sigh and closed eyes. Then I happily moaned as I pressed the still cold tumbler to my flushed face.

I love air conditioning. If air condition was a person I’d happily sleep with it. Me and A/C would have been it, true love. At least on my side, A/C would probably have gotten around.

“I wonder what other noises I can get you to make, Dresden,” said Marcone, his voice soft and thoughtful.

My eyes popped open in shock and I stared up at him. He was looking at me with a hungry expression that made me redden from something that had nothing to do with heat. Or anger.

Ah, damn. I hate the fact that sexual innuendo always embarrasses me so much. You’d think that having a White Court brother would have cured me of that.

You’d be wrong.

“Damn it, Marcone,” I complained, glaring at him. “Now is not the time.”

Marcone had pretty much told me that he wanted into my pants a couple of months ago. I still don’t believe he doesn’t have some ulterior motive so I’ve rebuffed all his advances. It didn’t stop him from trying yet he hadn't been too pushy. I did have to give him points for persistence and ingenuity in not having given up even after all these months of solid ‘No! Hell, no!’s from me.

Although, I hated that he still managed to make me blush every time he brought up how much he wanted me.

I headed for the door but Marcone stopped me with a hand.

“Stay a moment and cool off, Dresden,” he said. “I‘ll control myself. You do look like you are about to expire from the heat.”

I pulled back and actually sat on a seat instead of on the floor. I was too tempted by the cool air to launch my escape. Anyway, I was a grown man. I could handle a little flirting. Even if it did come from one of the scariest and deadliest men I had ever known.

Really, I could. The weakness in my limbs was not fear. It was the heat.

“Where are you currently headed? I can have Mr. Hendricks drive us to your stop,” said Marcone. “That should save you some effort.”

I frowned. “I don‘t want you to get dragged into what I‘m looking into, Marcone. There‘s already been too many bullets flying around.”

Marcone’s dollar-bill green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Someone has taken shots at you?”

“Like that‘s anything new,” I said, with a roll of my eyes. “Why else would I be wearing the Coat of Black Heat Death during the height of Chicago Summer?”

“Do you have any suspects?” he asked his voice in that cool tone I knew boded no good.

“Don‘t even think about it!” I scowled. “This is my business. I‘m taking care of it.”

Marcone didn’t look like he was listening to me. Damn. Double damn.

I blamed the seductive A/C for loosening my tongue like that.

“I mean it, John,” I continued. “Things are already delicate enough as it is. It‘s taking all I‘ve got to keep war from breaking out on the Chicago streets. Stirring you into the mix will cause it to boil over for certain.”

“Very well,” said Marcone. “I will restrain myself. But if you are injured I make no such promises.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation but I took what I could get.

Who in the hell knew that Marcone - of all people - would have turned into such a protective mother-hen? I can’t tell you how often I had to practically threaten him to back off and let me do my job in the last few months.

It had made me rather sympathetic to Murphy if that was the sort of treatment she got from foolish men who kept trying to ‘save’ her when she was just doing her job. And it made me think that karma was a bitch because of how often I’d done that exact same thing to her before it got knocked into my hard head that she could take care of herself.

Somewhere a god with a warped sense of humor was laughing his ass off.

I leaned back in the cool seat and let at the air condition leech the heat from my skin.

Marcone reached over had filled up the tumbler with more ice water from a bottle of water and a small cooler of ice.

I eagerly held out my hand for it and Marcone caught it in his hand. He caressed my palm and I tensed.

“Hey, what happened to controlling yourself?” I said, eying him warily.

“Forgive my indulgence,” said Marcone, with a small smile. He released my hand and the glass of water.

I gave him a look but eagerly drank down more water.

It was silent in the car for the next five minutes, and I just lay back in my seat and indulged in feeling cool. But five minutes is all I allowed myself.

Like I had told Marcone, I was ass deep in crocodiles and that last thing I needed was to add a tiger to the Chicago concrete jungle so I needed to get back out on the street before someone saw me in his company.

I paused with my hand on the limo door, taking a second to brace myself for the heat.

“Harry,” Marcone said softly. He held out the bottle of water.

I took it silently feeling too grateful for the respite and the water to snap at him for using my name.

“You‘ve got my number,” he added.

“Later, John,” I said, stepped out onto the street. I tried not to think about how bad the situation would need to get in order to me to have to call in a favor from Marcone.

I was juggling enough trouble without me putting myself into debt with him. Not because I thought he would try to make me do something I didn’t want to do, he knew better. Rather because I was afraid he would ask of me something I have been telling myself I did not want.

I watched Marcone’s limo merge back with traffic then vanish as it turned a corner. I shook my head at myself and began walking down the street. I had a war among the wild fae and some vigilante human nutcases to stop.

This thing with Marcone could wait.

End.

Continued in: Kiss It Better

a/n: I admit that my twisted sense of humor enjoys titling a story about heat with the lyrics from a song about snow. =D