Crush and Burn
April 8, 2005 6:26 PM
Pevensie strolled into the Back Alley Bar on shaky legs. Rona had let her borrow some high heels. Pevensie was not used to walking in them. She was also wearing a little black dress and had taken the pink from her hair to make herself look more grown up. She sat at the bar and smiled at the bartender Graham. He shook his head. Marcus would be here at any moment.
Mr. Broughton gave her a grin and tipped his hat to her like she was a real lady. Pevensie smiled brightly at him.
Marcus stomped into the bar and growled at the idiot who had the misfortune to get in his way. The man backed away, eyes wide. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him at the moment
He swung around the bar and shouldered Graham out of the way as he reached for the top shelf bottle of whiskey. He didn't normally drink at work, or really even away from work, but there were some days that he just needed it.
He slammed back two fingers of the alcohol before turning to acknowledge Graham.
"Any problems today?"
Graham shook his head, but remained silent.
"Damn." What he wanted was a good fight, since apparently the fates were conspiring to keep him from a good fuck.
Pevensie tossed her hair and waited for Marcus to notice her.
"You're a pretty thing," someone said from behind her.
Pevensie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Thank you, but I'm not interested in you, so move along please."
Why? Why did this always happen to her?
He turned at the familiar voice to find Pevensie sitting at the bar again. Her makeup was too heavy and the pink was gone from her hair. She was also wearing some little scrap of a dress. Something he could see Greengrass wearing, when she was out to drive him up the fucking wall. Not a kid.
"Don't you have somewhere better to be," he snapped at her.
"I came to see you."
The guy who'd approached her laughed. "He has him a tender bit of flesh already, lamb."
"Um... eww, and the answer is still no. Get out of here before I let him hit you for being a horndog."
Marcus cracked his knuckles and gave a feral grin which the man never saw because he was trying to look down the brat's dress. He also never saw the fist that smashed into his jaw and sent him from the bar stool.
"That was unsatisfying," Marcus muttered as the man scrambled out the door. He cast a look around the bar, but none of the customers were one of the ones that were likely to cause trouble.
Willow jumped out of the way as the man ran out. Her eyes widened when she saw who Marcus was talking to at the bar.
"I'm sorry," Pevensie said. "Did you want me to lure another perv in here so you can fight him too?"
"No," he snapped. He caught the edge of a smirk from Broughton and a giggle from the waitress. He growled in annoyance. The whole bar had decided that Greengrass was making him sleep on the fucking couch and that was what led to his foul temper. He wasn't about to tell them the truth.
"Big trouble," was all Willow said to Pevensie as she slid into the bar stool next to her. "Go sit over there where I can see you while I speak to Mr. Flint."
Pevensie sighed. Willow was mad. Really mad. Thatw as not a good thing.
Marcus scowled at Willow, but automatically poured her a glass of water, with ice. He had a feeling that snapping at the Dark Witch would be like signing his own death warrant. At least then he'd not be sexually frustrated any longer.
"What do you need," he asked, trying to keep his tone even.
"First, for you to stop encouraging the mad crush she has on you, and second to ask if the mark burning felt different and if you only got it once or twice."
"The marks burned twice," he told her. "And it felt like there was nothing real behind it. No summoning. But your pet Death Eater could have told you the same thing. And as for the first thing, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Broughton coughed on his rot gut, but Marcus ignored the idiot.
"I'm comparing stories, and what do you mean you have no idea what I'm talking about? Flint, look at her. She's wearing heels, make-up and a little black dress. Standard flirt. She likes you. You have to know this."
The man at the end of the bar was coughing.
"Do you need a throat logenze?"
Marcus blinked at her, his frustration replaced by confusion. When he continued to look confused, the red head just waved her hand in the direction that Pevensie was sulking.
"The brat?" He was honestly surprised. "She's just a kid. And that's not something I'm interested in."
"Well, she's interested in you, and I know you aren't afraid of Draco, but surely you recall what a tantrum he can throw. That hasn't changed. You really didn't know?"
"You didn't. Wow. She totally likes you. I can see why. I get it. Also? She's a slayer and they often respond to strength and power."
"I halfway think you're taking the piss out of me," he told her. Broughton was nodding vigorously and Marcus suddenly had a new understanding of the old sot's snickers whenever the brat was around.
"I don't encourage her." He also hadn't told her to fuck off, because she was still a kid. He'd gotten soft in his old age.
"Let me explain something to you about Pevensie," Willow said, leaning on the bar. "She's had what you might call a crap life. Anyone who pays her the least bit of attention in a positive way is good to her. You don't treat her like a freak. You have fighting skills. Most slayers dig that in a partner. Plus, you're not half bad on a girl's eyes."
He shook his head and poured himself another shot of whiskey. Greengrass liked it when he growled. Pevensie liked it when he hit people. He had once thought that women wanted to be coddled. Every day proved him wrong.
"That all you wanted?"
"I wanted to know if you've heard about anyone sequestering demons for ritualistic purposes - because that's what I think is doing the burning. It isn't human energy." Willow frowned. "I can take that edge off."
He choked on his whiskey.
"Not like that. Astoria would kill me. I can just soothe a bit. Magically not physically. You'll still need to... you know. I can't believe you two haven't... I would have thought you'd... and she's so... wow, you know. You know."
He slammed the whiskey glass down and growled. "Not a conversation we're going to have. Ever. My 'edge' is my own to deal with." His hand worked just fine for taking the "edge" off. But having a warm, willing woman was different than his hand in the shower. And Greengrass ramped him up in ways that jacking off just could not keep up with.
"And, no. I don't have ears in the demon world. Most wizards tend to avoid them."
"Let me know if you hear anything? The Ministry thinks I did that stuff. Part of me is flattered, but those marks have a specific magic signature. I couldn't crack that alone. And if you want your edge to be yours, then stop being so emotional about it. I can taste your unresolved sexual tension right now."
"Tough," he ground out. Talking about sex, thinking about Greengrass, again, had brought his hard on to full force. Again.
"Do you want me to go get her for you? I think I could find her. You have a broom closet here? This is really unhealthy. I thought I was sexually frustrated, but you win."
"The building would burn down. Or be raided by Aurors. Or my mother would decide to drop by. Or the fucking Mark would burn again. If it were so simple as a few bloody minutes in a closet, don't you think all that tension would be resolved?"
Willow frowned. "I could put the two of you in a protective bubble where nothing could intrude."
He gave her this look.
"I like your girlfriend. I owe her. I might need her help again. She's better when she's happy and not tense from what I understand. I like helping people. I know you can have sex all on your own, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
"It's not that bad yet," he lied. From the smirk on her face, she knew it, too.
"Take your brat and go. If I hear anything about the Marks, I'll owl or something."
"You're welcome at the Council. Wiltshire. Not too far from Malfoy Manor, according to Draco. I'll know if you approach, and I'll let you through the wards."
Willow motioned to Pevensie.
"Bye, Marcus," she said, smiling at him sweetly.
Willow gave Marcus a sad smile.
He just growled and poured himself another drink. Broughton, the fucker, had fallen off his stool again because he was laughing so hard.