Fic: Denial Ain’t Just a River, it’s a Tsunami [Slow and Steady Series]

[jade_dragoness]

Title: Denial Ain’t Just a River, it’s a Tsunami
Author: J.D. aka jade_dragoness
Series: Slow and Steady, Story #2
Rating: PG
Pairing: Marcone/Dresden-ish
Spoilers: None
Summary: Harry has gotten almost used to receiving deliveries from Marcone. Almost.
Word Count: 1,700
Disclaimer: Never ever will be mine. *sadness*
A/N: Another fic done for cliche_bingo, for the square # 04 - Habits and Routines. And yet another fic set before The Weather Outside is Frightful. Though Marcone doesn't make an appearance in this one he sure has a presence. =D
Feedback is hugely welcomed. Feel free to point out any errors I missed.
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Sequel to: An Even Exchange
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I was expecting the knock at the door of my office when it came. I had recognized the footsteps coming down the hallway. It didn’t stop me from groaning into my hands from a mix of irritation and frustration. I wondered if it was too late to pretend to be out.

The firm knock at the door killed the hope.

“Come on in, Max,” I said, my voice still muffled. “It‘s not like I can stop you.”

Max last name unknown, was a delivery guy, who’d been coming to my office every time I had a chance to stop in for the last two weeks. I liked the guy, he was young and rather cheerful, but I was quickly getting tried of seeing him so much.

Mostly because of the things he brought me.

“Hey, Harry! Long time no see,” Max said cheerfully, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling from his wide smile. I knew that it was only the brown shade of his skin that made the white of his teeth pop, but I swear that it was his glee at my situation.

“We saw each other yesterday,” I growled at him.

Max shook his head in mock sadness at my lack of joy at seeing him yet again before going back to grinning as he handed over a long flat box to me. He was smart enough not to also hand over that electronic signature device that was used by a lot of delivery companies these days. It had taken me killing two for him to learn to turn it off before he even got into the elevator to go up to my office floor.

“What has he sent you this time?” he asked, leaning close. “I‘m thinking if this guy has finally decided to go for the classic and send you chocolates then you should definitely put out.”

“Max!” I complained, my cheeks flushed red and I had to resist the urge to hide my face in my hands. It wouldn’t help. Max was relentless.

“I‘m just saying, man,” Max said. “So far this John dude has sent you bullets-”

-steel jacketed rounds that were illegal for me to have and had actually hurt me to send them back considering how handy they‘d be against faeries-

Max continued, ticking off the items on his fingers. “-those weird dried plants-”

-rare herbal potion ingredients that Bob had actually yelled at me about when he found out I hadn‘t decided to keep them, my feelings about it be damned-

“-jewelry-”

-pure silver rings of the kind I used to make my kinetic force rings-

“- and Blue Mountain Coffee, which I still think you should have kept,” Max complained, a look of longing on his face. I rolled my eyes.

“You just wanted me to give it to you instead,” I snorted.

“Yeah! That would have worked too,” he agreed, with a cheerful nod.

“And yeah, like that wouldn‘t have given John the wrong idea,” I grumbled. I was careful to keep Marcone’s name out of the conversation since he had also been cautious to never label the deliveries with his actual last name. The last thing I wanted was for rumors to start up about the two of us. I had enough hassles without dealing with suspicious cops who heard about me being connected to the mob. Again. Once was enough. Thank you. “And for the last time, I‘m not dating him,” I continued, giving Max an annoyed glare.

Max’s expression was completely skeptical.

“I don‘t know, man,” Max said, doubtfully. He leaned close enough to poke the box before giving me an amused look. “I‘ve seen the look on your face when you open up the packages. You sure as hell like the stuff.”

I had made it a point, after getting the first package from Marcone - a beautiful hat made of black leather hat matched my leather coat to a ‘T’ that tempted me even though I don‘t wear hats - to have Max stick around to take the gifts back. With the hat, I had to return it myself… and no, it says nothing about me that I didn’t go up to Marcone in person to return it and just left it to the Post Office to do the legwork.

Just because the guy said that he wanted me - and not just to own my loyalty like he first tried when we met - my avoidance didn’t mean anything at all. And don’t tell me that I need to invest in hip-deep waders or if I’d like to buy a certain bridge in Brooklyn.

“That doesn‘t mean anything,” I said, and dug into my desk to pull out an old pair of scissors to slice the tape keeping the box closed. I could have just sent it back unopened, but I was curious to see what Marcone thought would work on me.

“Hmm,” Max said, doubtfully. “It sure as hell means that this guy knows you pretty well.”

I couldn’t deny that. Even if you took away the knowledge we’d gleaned from the soul-gaze, I’ve known Marcone for little over a decade now. Which is a pretty startling idea, when I realized it. That makes him one of those few constant people in my life, who while not a friend exactly also wasn‘t actively trying to kill me or destroy my loved ones. Huh.

I was distracted by my thoughts on the odd relationship I had with Marcone by what was in the box.

Gleaming silver and gorgeous was a reproduction of ‘Sting’, the sword carried by Frodo in the Lord of the Ring movies.

Bastard.

That absolute bastard.

When in the hell had Marcone learned that I was a fan of the books and the movies?

I lifted Sting, which was little more than a long dagger in my grip and admired the way that mock Elvish script curved up from the cross-guard to the middle of the steel blade.

“Maegnas is my name, I am the spider's bane,” I murmured, feeling a thrill of delight. As I stared at it I found myself wondering what kind of spell I could cast to make it glow blue in the presence of orcs. Bob was bound to know.

“So you want me to take it back? Or are you finally going to give John a chance?”

I tore my gaze away from the sword to see Max grinning at me. I aborted a move to pull the blade towards me in instinctive defense. I swallowed down hard. And for the very first time since Marcone started sending me all these gifts I was actually very, very tempted to keep one even knowing how Marcone would take that move.

“Yes - No! I mean, no. I‘m not keeping it. And I‘m not giving him anything!” I said with a scowl, slowly putting Sting back into the box. My fingers twitched and it took everything I had to close the top back on the box.

Max must have caught the longing on my face because his grin grew wider.

“Think about it, Harry. Just go on one date with him and you can keep the sword,” Max said encouragingly.

“I‘m not going to pimp myself out for a blade, even for this one,” I glared. I gently patted the box lid.

Max rocked back onto his heels. There was a contemplative expression on his face.

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Have you actually told John to knock it off?”

I blinked at him. “What?” I repeated.

Max’s shit-eating grin made a comeback. “Have you told John that you aren‘t interested? That he should save his money and try another fish in the dating sea?”

I opened my mouth then closed it. Because I hadn’t, had I? At no point had I actually shut down Marcone by telling the guy that he didn’t have a chance with me.

Hell, when the guy had told me how he felt all I’d done was to fall off a chair like a spectacular idiot. I had been too stunned to even really accept that the man was serious until I’d gotten back to my apartment and my brain had stopped spinning.

And never in the two weeks since had I told Marcone, no. I hadn't even thought to say it.

No wonder the guy was sending me what were tantamount to courting gifts.

I groaned and thumped my face onto my desk only narrowly avoiding smashing the box.

Max laughed. “Come on, Harry. Some part of you had to like John‘s attention for you to let it go on for so long. You definitely should win a first place ribbon for playing hard to get, man.”

Was that really what I had been doing? Star and stones… that was exactly I’ve been doing. I mean, I hadn’t thought I was but maybe Max had a point.

“I hate my life,” I mumbled.

“I‘ll do you a favor, and let you return the sword yourself,” Max said, amused. “But tell the guy no or yes, Harry, don‘t just leave him hanging.” He shook his head. “Two weeks. He‘s got to have the patience of a saint.” He grinned widely again. “Or he thinks you‘re worth it.”

I blushed as I looked up to glower but it was wasted on Max who was already heading out to the hallway with the door closing behind him.

“No, saint is the last word I‘d use to describe Marcone,” I sighed.

I stuck a note in the box telling Marcone to knock it off with the presents already before I sealed it up again. Then I grabbed my coat before I picked up the package to take it to the Post Office.

I still didn’t quite trust that Marcone was doing this just to get into my pants. After all, the guy could have his pick of lovers, people that would definitely be easier to tumble into bed than me.

He had to have another motive for saying he had developed a romantic interest in me.

I ignored how hollow that reasoning sounded into my own ears as I took the stairs down to the parking lot. I had a package to return to sender.

End.

Next in the series: Mob Bosses Make Great Mother Hens

a/n: Deeeniiiaaal! Also, I so want that sword. *makes grabby hands* And I totally need to come up for a name for this series. Hmmm.