[Fic] Moonlighting
Started this ages ago for a wereyorkie-themed thing. Better late than never?
Title: Moonlighting
Genre: Romance, Humor
Rated: T
Warnings: Nudity, Bad words
Summary:
Basílio was uncertain. Was he supposed to let the chicken blood stay on his hands? On the one hand, his grimoire hadn’t said anything about washing it off. On the other… well, it just wasn’t sanitary.
He frowned down at his hands, scowled down at the complex sigil he’d smeared onto his kitchen floor, frowned down at the grimoire sitting on the counter (propped up by a loaf of bread), and then grimaced because why the hell not.
He washed his hands, cleared his throat, and began to chant.
The lights flickered, which was a good sign. An eerie wind rustled through the kitchen; he allowed himself a smug smile. A flash of light and smoke signaled the completion of the invocation.
Basílio waited patiently for the smoke to clear, for the moment he’d get to lay eyes on his first, real (and) live summoned henchman!
He waited… and waited… and waited.
Nothing.
He dug a hand into the curly black mop of his hair and growled in frustration. What he did not expect was:
A) a matching (though much shriller) growl
B) a miniature bear trap clamping onto his ankle
C) a blur of tan fur and pink ribbon
Lower body strength had never been his forte, but something about having a small, vicious thing fastened onto his flesh made it surprisingly easy to kick with all the leg-power of an Olympic swimmer. Little by little, he forced it to loosen its grip. Basílio’s eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope.
That’s when it all went right straight to hell.
The teeth-fur-ribbon-thing shuddered, stiffened, and (in a series of movements Basílio couldn’t quite wrap his mind around… which was, considering his chosen profession, remarkable) became a teeth-skin-thing. A large one. Larger, in fact, than Basílio, which left him with one option:
Scream. Loudly.
When it tackled him onto his kitchen floor and sank its teeth into his arm, the action seemed doubly appropriate.
Screaming aside, Basílio managed to kick the thing away and pin it with a quickly-hurled spell that nearly missed. (He had terrible aim at the best of times.) The creature slammed to the floor. It struggled to move, but his spell held it firmly.
“What are you?!” demanded Basílio, scrambling to the other side of the kitchen. He raked a trembling hand through his hair in a motion that knocked his elbow into the blender, tumbling it to the floor with a loud clatter.
He grit his teeth. “What are you doing here?!” Basílio snarled. “Where’s my werewolf henchman?!”
It stopped struggling. And then… it laughed.
Basílio stared, jaw clenched.
It went into hysterics. It howled with laughter, and while Basílio had to admit the sound… wasn’t unpleasant, the situation was a few light-years past unnerving. So, no. Not okay.
He glared, heart thumping, as its laughter subsided to hoarse chuckles.
“Are you done?” he hissed.
The thing stilled.
“Let me go.”
“Let you go?” Basílio scoffed, edging over a little closer to the thing. “After almost having my leg ripped off? I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” it laughed. “I won’t bite.”
Basílio narrowed his eyes.
“Unless you want me to?”
The lights flickered, the cabinets slammed open, a violent wind ripped through the kitchen, and the blender roared to life on the floor, clunking clumsily (but violently) toward the naked man on the floor. Basílio took a menacing step forward.
“No.”
The creature on the floor growled.
“Well fuck you, too. I’m tired and naked and I don’t want to be here! Fix it.”
Basílio wanted to throw a fit. Fire, brimstone, unpleasant sounds. Icky smells. Oozy things. Then he remembered the dark stain that stubbornly refused to fade (despite illegal quantities of holy water and bleach) from his living room wall, and accepted that sometimes there is nothing you can do.
The lights brightened reluctantly, the cabinets clicked huffily back into place, and the blender gave an ornery groan before settling into inanimate calm.
Silence.
Sharp brown eyes glared up at him through a flop of fine, tan hair. The man-shaped thing on the floor gave an unhappy rumble.
“Well?”
Basílio scowled down at him. “Your name,” he demanded finally. “What is it?”
The thing hesitated.
“Doesn’t that give you power over me?”
Basílio’s brows furrowed. He was either facing a very low IQ or lingering brain damage. Neither prospects were very appealing.
“I summoned you,” he replied, taking care to speak slowly. “So obviously I’ve got that base covered, thanks.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me for being a little wary of the guy who has me pinned naked to his kitchen floor.”
There are tense silences. There are angry silences. There are silences like the one that fell between the two of them, which left angry silences and tense silences whimpering with fear and insecurity.
“Name!” spat Basílio. “Now!”
“You first.”
“You’re not very bright, are you?” Basílio sighed. “You’re not in the position to be making demands. In fact, you’re completely at my mercy-”
“Kinky.”
“-and I suggest you start acting like it!”
“Calm down, will you? Just… let’s be reasonable about this.”
“R-reasonable?” sputtered Basílio. “You bit me!”
“Well, I’m sorry, okay? Look, I’ll tell you my name if you let me sit up.”
Basílio huffed. Making deals with summons was a newbie mistake, but if a low-grade binding spell could pin him, he couldn’t be that tough, right?
“Fine.”
He gestured briefly with his fingers. The summon scrambled to stand up and just as quickly toppled onto his ass.
“Damnit,” he grimaced, rubbing at his lower back, “Shoulda seen that coming.”
“Damn straight,” Basílio agreed, carefully averting his eyes. “Now. Name?”
“Charlie.”
“Oh my god,” Basílio groaned. “I summoned a Charlie.”
“Look, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“Who’s going to be afraid of a Charlie?”
“Hey, listen to me! You-”
“I should just retire.”
“HEY! I AM FUCKING TERRIFYING, OKAY?”
“Yeah?” Basílio snorted. “Prove it.”
Charlie buried his head in his hands and muttered something unintelligible.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. “What was that?”
“I said, I’m on probation. My magical signature is... under surveillance, right now. So just take my word for it, alright?”
Basílio stared quietly at the man on his kitchen floor. Plotting.
“So you’re telling me,” he said cooly, calmly putting the blender to rights with a wave of his hand. “That you’re on a leash.”
Charlie looked up with a belligerent frown. Basílio closed his eyes and opened a few others, let the shadows see for him. Charlie’s aura licked about his body like flames, searing and quick- save for a single spot, a sickly blemish.
A tracking glyph. Basílio smirked and opened his eyes.
“You work elemental magic- fire.” Basílio hopped up onto a nearby counter and crossed his arms, meeting Charlie’s stunned with a contemplative stare. “Someone’s tracking you, making sure you don’t use your fire. That can’t feel very nice.”
“Wh- how do y-”
“Don’t insult me,” Basílio snapped. “Let’s talk business. Are you working for anyone?”
“Um. The Gas Gulp on 12th.”
Basílio tried very hard not to roll his eyes.
“I can remove the surveillance. I can give you full reign of your power, and no one has to know until you burn them yourself.”
Charlie lifted his chin, eyes narrowed. “You want me to work for you,” he clarified.
Clap, clap, clap! “Congratulations, you can think!” Basílio applauds. Maybe it’s a little unkind of him, but dammit, he was supposed to be drinking (celebratory) wine by now. “Of course, you still have to prove it.”
“What? But-”
“I wouldn’t be auditioning for werewolf henchmen if just anyone could see what I’m up to,” Basílio explained patiently. “I have shields, dumbass. But before you get any ideas,” he added quickly, “I can suffocate you in a heartbeat. Just give me a small demonstration, alright?”
Charlie stared at him, suspicion slowly giving way to surprised disbelief. Slowly, the naked man shook his head.
“You can’t be serious.”
Basílio felt his ankle throb, and suddenly he knew what he had to do. It was would be worth it.
“I’ll cover dental,” he offered graciously.
Charlie gaped at him for a long moment. Then he started laughing, that low, annoying and oddly entrancing sound. Basílio frowned, bemused.
“Well?”
“...Why not. Sure. When can I start?”
“Immediately,” Basílio answered, relieved. “Well, almost. I need a few minutes to readjust the wards- for your safety. After that, you’ll have run of the eastern tower. Consider anything you do outside that perimeter strictly monitored.”
“Are you offering me another leash?”
“Without me, you’re as good as neutered.” Basílio sniffed. “Besides, this will be a physical leash.” Basílio cupped his hands, and when he pulled them apart a thin black band stretched between them.
“The surveillance magic,” he continued, “Can be terminated, if you ever want to break the binding. I will consider it a letter of resignation. And, incidentally, an invitation to slaughter you, unless you submit one two weeks in advance like a decent person. Will you sign to this agreement, Charlie?”
Charlie frowned.
“So, you can’t fire me? If I don’t quit?”
Basílio looked askance at the naked man, suddenly feeling a tendril of regret about his decision. “I suppose not,” he said slowly. “Look, will you sign to it or not?”
“With dental?”
“Yes, with dental.”
Charlie grinned up at him. “Well, sure.”
“Will you sign to it in blood?”
“Uh... okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s see... here. The bread. Incinerate the bread.” The damn thing had gone stale, anyhow. With a snap of his fingers, Basílio banished Charlie’s tracking sigil.
Charlie flinched.
Basílio waved impatiently at the half loaf of bread he had summoned out to sit beside Charlie. “Hurry up,” he urged.
“Fine, fine.”
There was a dazzling flash of fiery light, and then the overwhelming smell of burnt toast. A brief cloud of smoke whipped out; charred crumbs scattered.
By the time Basílio finished blinking, there was barely any soot left.
“You’re hired,” he coughed.
A contract fluttered into Charlie’s lap. Basílio aimed a finger at the man’s arm, but paused when Charlie raised his hands in protest.
“Wait wait wait, one little thing first, okay? Tell me your name.”
There was a small silence.
“Basílio.”
And with that, he zapped Charlie’s thigh; a few drops of the naked man’s blood spilled onto the contract. The black band vanished from Basílio’s hands and reappeared as a slim bracelet around Charlie’s wrist.
For a long moment, Charlie looked at it wonderingly, then turned hazel eyes to Basílio with something like anticipation. Basílio allowed himself a moment of satisfaction (it was an excellent pitch) before becoming uncomfortably aware of the shapeshifter’s nudity.
“I’m going to, get some clothes. And change the wards. Sit tight.”
Basílio didn’t need eyes in the back of his head to feel Charlie’s eyes burning into his back. (But he did have extra eyes, so he knew exactly what the man was looking at.)
It wasn’t unpleasant.
He wondered if he could find something with pink ribbons for Charlie to wear.
Title: Moonlighting
Genre: Romance, Humor
Rated: T
Warnings: Nudity, Bad words
Summary:
Basílio was uncertain. Was he supposed to let the chicken blood stay on his hands? On the one hand, his grimoire hadn’t said anything about washing it off. On the other… well, it just wasn’t sanitary.
He frowned down at his hands, scowled down at the complex sigil he’d smeared onto his kitchen floor, frowned down at the grimoire sitting on the counter (propped up by a loaf of bread), and then grimaced because why the hell not.
He washed his hands, cleared his throat, and began to chant.
The lights flickered, which was a good sign. An eerie wind rustled through the kitchen; he allowed himself a smug smile. A flash of light and smoke signaled the completion of the invocation.
Basílio waited patiently for the smoke to clear, for the moment he’d get to lay eyes on his first, real (and) live summoned henchman!
He waited… and waited… and waited.
Nothing.
He dug a hand into the curly black mop of his hair and growled in frustration. What he did not expect was:
A) a matching (though much shriller) growl
B) a miniature bear trap clamping onto his ankle
C) a blur of tan fur and pink ribbon
Lower body strength had never been his forte, but something about having a small, vicious thing fastened onto his flesh made it surprisingly easy to kick with all the leg-power of an Olympic swimmer. Little by little, he forced it to loosen its grip. Basílio’s eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope.
That’s when it all went right straight to hell.
The teeth-fur-ribbon-thing shuddered, stiffened, and (in a series of movements Basílio couldn’t quite wrap his mind around… which was, considering his chosen profession, remarkable) became a teeth-skin-thing. A large one. Larger, in fact, than Basílio, which left him with one option:
Scream. Loudly.
When it tackled him onto his kitchen floor and sank its teeth into his arm, the action seemed doubly appropriate.
Screaming aside, Basílio managed to kick the thing away and pin it with a quickly-hurled spell that nearly missed. (He had terrible aim at the best of times.) The creature slammed to the floor. It struggled to move, but his spell held it firmly.
“What are you?!” demanded Basílio, scrambling to the other side of the kitchen. He raked a trembling hand through his hair in a motion that knocked his elbow into the blender, tumbling it to the floor with a loud clatter.
He grit his teeth. “What are you doing here?!” Basílio snarled. “Where’s my werewolf henchman?!”
It stopped struggling. And then… it laughed.
Basílio stared, jaw clenched.
It went into hysterics. It howled with laughter, and while Basílio had to admit the sound… wasn’t unpleasant, the situation was a few light-years past unnerving. So, no. Not okay.
He glared, heart thumping, as its laughter subsided to hoarse chuckles.
“Are you done?” he hissed.
The thing stilled.
“Let me go.”
“Let you go?” Basílio scoffed, edging over a little closer to the thing. “After almost having my leg ripped off? I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” it laughed. “I won’t bite.”
Basílio narrowed his eyes.
“Unless you want me to?”
The lights flickered, the cabinets slammed open, a violent wind ripped through the kitchen, and the blender roared to life on the floor, clunking clumsily (but violently) toward the naked man on the floor. Basílio took a menacing step forward.
“No.”
The creature on the floor growled.
“Well fuck you, too. I’m tired and naked and I don’t want to be here! Fix it.”
Basílio wanted to throw a fit. Fire, brimstone, unpleasant sounds. Icky smells. Oozy things. Then he remembered the dark stain that stubbornly refused to fade (despite illegal quantities of holy water and bleach) from his living room wall, and accepted that sometimes there is nothing you can do.
The lights brightened reluctantly, the cabinets clicked huffily back into place, and the blender gave an ornery groan before settling into inanimate calm.
Silence.
Sharp brown eyes glared up at him through a flop of fine, tan hair. The man-shaped thing on the floor gave an unhappy rumble.
“Well?”
Basílio scowled down at him. “Your name,” he demanded finally. “What is it?”
The thing hesitated.
“Doesn’t that give you power over me?”
Basílio’s brows furrowed. He was either facing a very low IQ or lingering brain damage. Neither prospects were very appealing.
“I summoned you,” he replied, taking care to speak slowly. “So obviously I’ve got that base covered, thanks.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me for being a little wary of the guy who has me pinned naked to his kitchen floor.”
There are tense silences. There are angry silences. There are silences like the one that fell between the two of them, which left angry silences and tense silences whimpering with fear and insecurity.
“Name!” spat Basílio. “Now!”
“You first.”
“You’re not very bright, are you?” Basílio sighed. “You’re not in the position to be making demands. In fact, you’re completely at my mercy-”
“Kinky.”
“-and I suggest you start acting like it!”
“Calm down, will you? Just… let’s be reasonable about this.”
“R-reasonable?” sputtered Basílio. “You bit me!”
“Well, I’m sorry, okay? Look, I’ll tell you my name if you let me sit up.”
Basílio huffed. Making deals with summons was a newbie mistake, but if a low-grade binding spell could pin him, he couldn’t be that tough, right?
“Fine.”
He gestured briefly with his fingers. The summon scrambled to stand up and just as quickly toppled onto his ass.
“Damnit,” he grimaced, rubbing at his lower back, “Shoulda seen that coming.”
“Damn straight,” Basílio agreed, carefully averting his eyes. “Now. Name?”
“Charlie.”
“Oh my god,” Basílio groaned. “I summoned a Charlie.”
“Look, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“Who’s going to be afraid of a Charlie?”
“Hey, listen to me! You-”
“I should just retire.”
“HEY! I AM FUCKING TERRIFYING, OKAY?”
“Yeah?” Basílio snorted. “Prove it.”
Charlie buried his head in his hands and muttered something unintelligible.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. “What was that?”
“I said, I’m on probation. My magical signature is... under surveillance, right now. So just take my word for it, alright?”
Basílio stared quietly at the man on his kitchen floor. Plotting.
“So you’re telling me,” he said cooly, calmly putting the blender to rights with a wave of his hand. “That you’re on a leash.”
Charlie looked up with a belligerent frown. Basílio closed his eyes and opened a few others, let the shadows see for him. Charlie’s aura licked about his body like flames, searing and quick- save for a single spot, a sickly blemish.
A tracking glyph. Basílio smirked and opened his eyes.
“You work elemental magic- fire.” Basílio hopped up onto a nearby counter and crossed his arms, meeting Charlie’s stunned with a contemplative stare. “Someone’s tracking you, making sure you don’t use your fire. That can’t feel very nice.”
“Wh- how do y-”
“Don’t insult me,” Basílio snapped. “Let’s talk business. Are you working for anyone?”
“Um. The Gas Gulp on 12th.”
Basílio tried very hard not to roll his eyes.
“I can remove the surveillance. I can give you full reign of your power, and no one has to know until you burn them yourself.”
Charlie lifted his chin, eyes narrowed. “You want me to work for you,” he clarified.
Clap, clap, clap! “Congratulations, you can think!” Basílio applauds. Maybe it’s a little unkind of him, but dammit, he was supposed to be drinking (celebratory) wine by now. “Of course, you still have to prove it.”
“What? But-”
“I wouldn’t be auditioning for werewolf henchmen if just anyone could see what I’m up to,” Basílio explained patiently. “I have shields, dumbass. But before you get any ideas,” he added quickly, “I can suffocate you in a heartbeat. Just give me a small demonstration, alright?”
Charlie stared at him, suspicion slowly giving way to surprised disbelief. Slowly, the naked man shook his head.
“You can’t be serious.”
Basílio felt his ankle throb, and suddenly he knew what he had to do. It was would be worth it.
“I’ll cover dental,” he offered graciously.
Charlie gaped at him for a long moment. Then he started laughing, that low, annoying and oddly entrancing sound. Basílio frowned, bemused.
“Well?”
“...Why not. Sure. When can I start?”
“Immediately,” Basílio answered, relieved. “Well, almost. I need a few minutes to readjust the wards- for your safety. After that, you’ll have run of the eastern tower. Consider anything you do outside that perimeter strictly monitored.”
“Are you offering me another leash?”
“Without me, you’re as good as neutered.” Basílio sniffed. “Besides, this will be a physical leash.” Basílio cupped his hands, and when he pulled them apart a thin black band stretched between them.
“The surveillance magic,” he continued, “Can be terminated, if you ever want to break the binding. I will consider it a letter of resignation. And, incidentally, an invitation to slaughter you, unless you submit one two weeks in advance like a decent person. Will you sign to this agreement, Charlie?”
Charlie frowned.
“So, you can’t fire me? If I don’t quit?”
Basílio looked askance at the naked man, suddenly feeling a tendril of regret about his decision. “I suppose not,” he said slowly. “Look, will you sign to it or not?”
“With dental?”
“Yes, with dental.”
Charlie grinned up at him. “Well, sure.”
“Will you sign to it in blood?”
“Uh... okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s see... here. The bread. Incinerate the bread.” The damn thing had gone stale, anyhow. With a snap of his fingers, Basílio banished Charlie’s tracking sigil.
Charlie flinched.
Basílio waved impatiently at the half loaf of bread he had summoned out to sit beside Charlie. “Hurry up,” he urged.
“Fine, fine.”
There was a dazzling flash of fiery light, and then the overwhelming smell of burnt toast. A brief cloud of smoke whipped out; charred crumbs scattered.
By the time Basílio finished blinking, there was barely any soot left.
“You’re hired,” he coughed.
A contract fluttered into Charlie’s lap. Basílio aimed a finger at the man’s arm, but paused when Charlie raised his hands in protest.
“Wait wait wait, one little thing first, okay? Tell me your name.”
There was a small silence.
“Basílio.”
And with that, he zapped Charlie’s thigh; a few drops of the naked man’s blood spilled onto the contract. The black band vanished from Basílio’s hands and reappeared as a slim bracelet around Charlie’s wrist.
For a long moment, Charlie looked at it wonderingly, then turned hazel eyes to Basílio with something like anticipation. Basílio allowed himself a moment of satisfaction (it was an excellent pitch) before becoming uncomfortably aware of the shapeshifter’s nudity.
“I’m going to, get some clothes. And change the wards. Sit tight.”
Basílio didn’t need eyes in the back of his head to feel Charlie’s eyes burning into his back. (But he did have extra eyes, so he knew exactly what the man was looking at.)
It wasn’t unpleasant.
He wondered if he could find something with pink ribbons for Charlie to wear.