The Cookie Fairy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alcesverdes) wrote2010-03-23 01:59 am
alcesverdes) wrote2010-03-23 01:59 am
Entry tags:
[The Dresden Files (books)] The Importance of Water Temperature
Title: The Importance of Water Temperature
Fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
Characters/Pairings: Harry+Thomas
Rating: PG
Length: 1221 words.
Summary: The first time Thomas took a bath in Harry's apartment, he thought he was going to die. He knew all wizards were technologically impaired, but this was just too much.
Spoilers: Up to Blood Rites.
Author's Note: Written for the 'home sweet home' prompt of the story_lottery challenge @ LJ.
The first time Thomas took a bath in Harry's apartment, he thought he was going to die. For real! He knew his brother, like all wizards, was technologically impaired, but this was just too much. Too, too much. The freezing water suddenly hit Thomas's skin; it was like if every drop had no other goal in life but to pierce it. And Thomas was willing to testify that they were doing their best effort.
Thomas stepped out from the shower as fast as he could, reached out for the towel and, trembling, took a deep breath. He'd been delaying this for as long as he could since he'd moved in, but he couldn't just forfeit all the idea of proper hygiene! On the other hand, who in their right mind would go in there again and risk frosbite? Well, there was the other person living in the house, but Thomas, as much as he loved his brother, wasn't always sure Harry was in his right mind most of the time.
The lack of a water heater wasn't the only thing wrong in that place. It was also too small and there were already too many inhabitants, all without taking into account how much Mouse was going to grow up. There was barely enough space for the couch Thomas slept on, so it was pointless to ask for an actual bed. Oh, how Thomas missed sleeping on a bed already! Not as much as he missed hot water, but still.
There were also the fumes coming up from Harry's laboratory. On a good day, they would be odorless. But good days were rare. Most of the time, whenever Harry locked himself down there, Thomas ended up half-expecting to see a monster summoned from the sewers coming up from behind the door.
If Harry wasn't going to invest in air fresheners, the least he could do was to try to use less offensive ingredients. But Thomas couldn't just go and tell him that. Seriously. He'd already tried and all he got was a lecture on how wizardry worked. After that, Thomas considered again his idea of telling Harry to make an entrance to his laboratory like the one Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove had--only without crocodiles--and not only because of the dangers of having Harry and a home theater together in the same building. It was a shame; it could had been fun.
Although, there was one good thing about this apartment: it didn't matter how much he--they trashed it, it always was spotless by the time they got back. Thomas had his suspicions, but at the end it really didn't matter. After all, it helped to keep Harry's hands off his throat, given that he wasn't used to be tidy. Thomas had never had the need to be tidy before. In Chateau Raith, things were different. Very different.
In Chateau Raith, Thomas didn't have to clean after himself. He had his own bedroom, his own bed with the most comfortable of all mattresses. There was hot water in every bathroom--because there were several bathrooms--and there was a pool. There were many parties with beautiful guests coming and going all night long. There were people who did everything you asked--as long as you did whatever Lord Raith wanted you to do. And, just like them, you didn't have the right of a mind of your own. Of a life of your own.
Thomas was very lucky to having survived this long.
Things surely had changed now that Lara had taken over, but not that. Never that. The things that needed to change the most seldom did, or if they did, it was so slow the one who started it all didn't get to see the results.
Then, Thomas thought of Harry. His little brother had always been disgusted and angry whenever he witnessed some kind of injustice. Harry soldiered on even when the enemy was stronger, and he did have the tendency to take things too personally, but at least he tried to do the Right Thing whenever he could. And even when it looked like he couldn't. Thomas didn't understand how Harry managed, but he was still alive too. With more and more enemies every day, but alive.
Maybe Harry was the lucky one.
Harry didn't have only enemies; he also had friends. Very loyal friends who would do anything for him.
Thomas was also willing to go any length for his little brother's sake, and he often wondered how would it be if they had grown together, away from all of these dangers, with their mother. Protected. Happy.
Together.
He wondered if having a different source of income would deter Harry from going into the world-saving business. Yet, with their luck, being meddlesome was just ingrained in his brain and not having to stop to pick up a check to pay the rent would only make things worse. Thomas smiled a little thinking about it. Yes, it was the most likely result.
Thomas sighed and put the towel away again.
His whole life, Harry had taken the heat of being their mother's son. He took to himself to be the patron saint of lost causes. He was a good person who had saved Thomas's live, who had taken him in and let him live in his apartment for free. Thomas could surely stand a little bit of cold water in exchange.
*
Harry came back home that afternoon to find his brother all wet and shivering. Before he could say anything to apologize for the inconvenience of the lack of a water heater, he received the direct hit of a wet-and-very-cold towel on his face. "Thomas!" he grunted when he took it off.
"There has to be a way!" Thomas replied. "This is no life!"
"A way to what?"
Thomas folded his arms. "A way to heat up the water, of course! Perhaps if we put together enough of your candles under a pot..."
"You are not serious."
"I am dead serious."
"You'll get used to it."
"I will never get used to it!"
Harry threw the towel back at Thomas, who ducked it. "I'm too tired," Harry said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Do whatever you want. Just don't burn down the house, okay?"
Thomas looked like if he was going to say, 'Don't worry, I'm not you,' but instead, he said, "Good night, little brother."
"Good night," Harry replied and went straight to bed.
At times, Harry felt bad because he couldn't provide most of the commodities Thomas was used to--or than anyone in that time of age was used to, to that matter. But then, he'd get all pushy and whiny and... And he was still there when Harry got back to the apartment. It was nice to know there was someone beside his cat waiting for him to go back. To have a different face to look at. Someone to share cold-and-wet towels with.
This was the closest this small place had ever felt like a home, he thought as he put his head on the pillow.
On that basis alone, perhaps he should allow Thomas to heat up water on the stove once in a while. That should help a bit.
Then, he kicked himself on the head for not having thought about that years before.
Fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
Characters/Pairings: Harry+Thomas
Rating: PG
Length: 1221 words.
Summary: The first time Thomas took a bath in Harry's apartment, he thought he was going to die. He knew all wizards were technologically impaired, but this was just too much.
Spoilers: Up to Blood Rites.
Author's Note: Written for the 'home sweet home' prompt of the story_lottery challenge @ LJ.
The first time Thomas took a bath in Harry's apartment, he thought he was going to die. For real! He knew his brother, like all wizards, was technologically impaired, but this was just too much. Too, too much. The freezing water suddenly hit Thomas's skin; it was like if every drop had no other goal in life but to pierce it. And Thomas was willing to testify that they were doing their best effort.
Thomas stepped out from the shower as fast as he could, reached out for the towel and, trembling, took a deep breath. He'd been delaying this for as long as he could since he'd moved in, but he couldn't just forfeit all the idea of proper hygiene! On the other hand, who in their right mind would go in there again and risk frosbite? Well, there was the other person living in the house, but Thomas, as much as he loved his brother, wasn't always sure Harry was in his right mind most of the time.
The lack of a water heater wasn't the only thing wrong in that place. It was also too small and there were already too many inhabitants, all without taking into account how much Mouse was going to grow up. There was barely enough space for the couch Thomas slept on, so it was pointless to ask for an actual bed. Oh, how Thomas missed sleeping on a bed already! Not as much as he missed hot water, but still.
There were also the fumes coming up from Harry's laboratory. On a good day, they would be odorless. But good days were rare. Most of the time, whenever Harry locked himself down there, Thomas ended up half-expecting to see a monster summoned from the sewers coming up from behind the door.
If Harry wasn't going to invest in air fresheners, the least he could do was to try to use less offensive ingredients. But Thomas couldn't just go and tell him that. Seriously. He'd already tried and all he got was a lecture on how wizardry worked. After that, Thomas considered again his idea of telling Harry to make an entrance to his laboratory like the one Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove had--only without crocodiles--and not only because of the dangers of having Harry and a home theater together in the same building. It was a shame; it could had been fun.
Although, there was one good thing about this apartment: it didn't matter how much he--they trashed it, it always was spotless by the time they got back. Thomas had his suspicions, but at the end it really didn't matter. After all, it helped to keep Harry's hands off his throat, given that he wasn't used to be tidy. Thomas had never had the need to be tidy before. In Chateau Raith, things were different. Very different.
In Chateau Raith, Thomas didn't have to clean after himself. He had his own bedroom, his own bed with the most comfortable of all mattresses. There was hot water in every bathroom--because there were several bathrooms--and there was a pool. There were many parties with beautiful guests coming and going all night long. There were people who did everything you asked--as long as you did whatever Lord Raith wanted you to do. And, just like them, you didn't have the right of a mind of your own. Of a life of your own.
Thomas was very lucky to having survived this long.
Things surely had changed now that Lara had taken over, but not that. Never that. The things that needed to change the most seldom did, or if they did, it was so slow the one who started it all didn't get to see the results.
Then, Thomas thought of Harry. His little brother had always been disgusted and angry whenever he witnessed some kind of injustice. Harry soldiered on even when the enemy was stronger, and he did have the tendency to take things too personally, but at least he tried to do the Right Thing whenever he could. And even when it looked like he couldn't. Thomas didn't understand how Harry managed, but he was still alive too. With more and more enemies every day, but alive.
Maybe Harry was the lucky one.
Harry didn't have only enemies; he also had friends. Very loyal friends who would do anything for him.
Thomas was also willing to go any length for his little brother's sake, and he often wondered how would it be if they had grown together, away from all of these dangers, with their mother. Protected. Happy.
Together.
He wondered if having a different source of income would deter Harry from going into the world-saving business. Yet, with their luck, being meddlesome was just ingrained in his brain and not having to stop to pick up a check to pay the rent would only make things worse. Thomas smiled a little thinking about it. Yes, it was the most likely result.
Thomas sighed and put the towel away again.
His whole life, Harry had taken the heat of being their mother's son. He took to himself to be the patron saint of lost causes. He was a good person who had saved Thomas's live, who had taken him in and let him live in his apartment for free. Thomas could surely stand a little bit of cold water in exchange.
*
Harry came back home that afternoon to find his brother all wet and shivering. Before he could say anything to apologize for the inconvenience of the lack of a water heater, he received the direct hit of a wet-and-very-cold towel on his face. "Thomas!" he grunted when he took it off.
"There has to be a way!" Thomas replied. "This is no life!"
"A way to what?"
Thomas folded his arms. "A way to heat up the water, of course! Perhaps if we put together enough of your candles under a pot..."
"You are not serious."
"I am dead serious."
"You'll get used to it."
"I will never get used to it!"
Harry threw the towel back at Thomas, who ducked it. "I'm too tired," Harry said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Do whatever you want. Just don't burn down the house, okay?"
Thomas looked like if he was going to say, 'Don't worry, I'm not you,' but instead, he said, "Good night, little brother."
"Good night," Harry replied and went straight to bed.
At times, Harry felt bad because he couldn't provide most of the commodities Thomas was used to--or than anyone in that time of age was used to, to that matter. But then, he'd get all pushy and whiny and... And he was still there when Harry got back to the apartment. It was nice to know there was someone beside his cat waiting for him to go back. To have a different face to look at. Someone to share cold-and-wet towels with.
This was the closest this small place had ever felt like a home, he thought as he put his head on the pillow.
On that basis alone, perhaps he should allow Thomas to heat up water on the stove once in a while. That should help a bit.
Then, he kicked himself on the head for not having thought about that years before.