Dragons Slain At No Extra Charge

By Ysabet

(Author’s Note #1: Why do I write so many shower-scenes? Huh? What’s up with that? --)

(Author’s Note #2: Just to make things clear here, this fic is set in bardicsidhe’s ‘Indecent Rhythm’ universe, i.e., that of the dubbed anime. Therefore, we are assuming that the cast lives somewhere in the U.S. Yes, I know, they live in Japan, but oh well. That’s how I’m playing it. Nyah.)

Part One: Snow White And the Seven Dwarves

Once upon a time, long ago and far, far away in an enchanted land, a beautiful princess……rang a certain doorbell. Quite a number of times, over and over and over actually.

Oh please be home, please be home, Joey— Maybe it’s not working—

Knock, knock, knock.

Nothing. It was late, she knew, but she could hear some sort of noise inside (music? shouting? It sounded like both.) It didn’t seem to be coming anywhere near the door, though.

Knock, knock, knock….

Knock, knock, knock…. Determinedly she took off one shoe and began to pound:

WHUMP!! THUNK-WHUMP! WHAM-WHAM-WHAM—

---

“Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to gooooo—I wanna be sedated!

Nothin’ to do, nowhere to gooooo—I wanna be sedated—“

It was nearly midnight, Joey Wheeler had been into Tristan’s stash of ‘80’s music again, and THIS time he had discovered the Ramones. Earbuds firmly in place, the blond splashed his way through a sinkfull of dishes to the accompaniment of his CD player and his own slightly tone-deaf voice…

“Get me to the airport, put me on a plane,

Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane;

Can’t control my fingers, I can’t control my brain,

Oh no no no no noooooooooooooo—“

Funny; the rhythm seemed to be sort of off. Whatever; it was still a good song. Still warbling away, he scrubbed vigorously at the previous night’s lasagna-pan. Thank God for hot water, Joey thought cheerfully; they had just had a broken faucet fixed that day; it had been a stone bitch, doing dishes in the bathroom sink all week. So far, so good.

“Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to gooooo, I wanna be sedated!

Nothin’ to do, nowhere to gooooo, I wanna be sedated (Wham!)

Put me inna wheelchair, get me to the show,

Hurry hurry hurry before I go loco (Thunk! Wham!)—“

He blinked, suds dripping from his fingers (Thunk Wham?) and out came the earbuds.

WHAM-WHAM-WHAP-WHAM!! WHAM-WHAP-WHAM!!

“Whoops…”

Dammit, did Duke forget his keys again? Gonna knot ‘em in his ponytail this time if he did, I swear. Of Joey’s two partners/significant others/et ceteras, Duke tended to be the one who left things all over hell and gone. Keys, important paperwork, half-drunk cups of coffee, his apparently-infinite collection of hair-ties, it didn’t matter; they all trailed behind him like a band of sad little orphans, waiting to be noticed. Joey was the only one home; Duke had supposedly been finishing up some sort of late-night inventory thing at his shop and Tris was at the laundromat, so—

Muttering to himself, the blond tucked the dishtowel into one pocket, wiped soapy hands on his jeans and thumped into the hallway towards the door, still singing.

“—wanna be sedateeeed—“ He unlatched the door, pulling. “Duke, if y—“

WHUD!!

The impact of a fairly small tennishoe on his nose was enough to make Joey stagger back, hand to his face and blinking hard. “…Thereniddy??”

The shoe dropped. “Oh, Joey, I’m so—I’m—Oh, your poor nose—“

Her brother blinked again around his hand. “Thereniddy, why’d y’hid me inna face…?”

Ten minutes later had them both comfortably ensconced on the apartment’s rather scruffy couch, mugs of tea for each (and a cold wet washcloth for Joey’s nose, which had commenced to leak.) After the initial flurry of apologies and applied ice-cubes to stop the bleeding, the young woman had scrunched herself into a huddle and now stared down into her cup as if looking for oracles in the steam.

Her brother eyed her from behind his washcloth. “Fight?” he asked, one blond eyebrow rising. “With mom?” It had not escaped his notice that she had dropped a gym-bag along with her shoe.

Nod, nod.

“About…?”

His sister bit her lip. Serenity had had her hair cut, he noticed, a shoulder-length clip that swung forward as she ducked her head again, gaze falling. “Sis, if it’s your hair, it looks fine to me—“ he ventured tentatively. At her headshake, he racked his brains-- Erk. How the hell would I know what teenage girls get upset about? Uh—clothes? Money? Staying out late? Makeup? Boyfriends?

--boyfriends--? Oh I do NOT want to go there… Slow burn time; he could feel it beginning somewhere around the base of his neck.

Serenity Wheeler had bloomed into a very attractive young woman; the nearly two-year difference between herself and her brother had brought her to the age of seventeen, almost eighteen, while he would be reaching twenty himself only a few months later. It was kind of weird to think of her being a young woman, but nobody looking at her sitting there on the couch would consider her a child. She didn’t LOOK like a child, unless you counted the way her bottom lip was sticking out…

Boyfriends. Oh, hell… “Okay,” sighed her brother. “What’s his name?” And how bad do I need to hurt him? —If somebody’s messing with my sister, they’re in for a world of pain. It was just like being in high school all over again.

That bottom lip got gnawed upon again, and Serenity’s large eyes began to fill. “I—“ The tears spilled over, and her brother offered the red-spotted washcloth; without thinking, she took it and blotted at her face. “It’s not… I, I’m not exactly, I mean we’re not…. um…… M-Mom thinks that, that you—”

Ca-click.

“Joey? We got company? --Whoops—“ As the door hung open on its hinges behind him, Tristan Taylor blinked down over a basketful of folded laundry at the tearful young woman on the couch and the blood-smeared cloth that she was currently holding to her face. “—Serenity? You okay? Joey, what’d you do, punch her in the nose?”

“Sure she’s okay, you doof, she goes around crying ‘cause she likes to,” her brother growled. “And that’s my blood, not hers. Close the door, will you? You’re lettin’ out the A/C. Sis? The bathroom’s that way if you want to wash your face or anything.”

Serenity fled bathroomwards, and the two young men stared at each other for a second before Tristan allowed his basket of laundry to slide to the floor. Dark brown eyebrows drew down a little as he nodded at the bag by the still-ajar door. “Uh……….Oh. Uh-oh. Family fight?”

“Got me. She hasn’t explained anything yet. But I figure we’re putting her up for the night at the least.” Joey scratched absentmindedly at a bit of soap on one wrist and lowered his voice. “Um… y’know I haven’t exactly, well, explained to her about, uh, us—“

“—us…? As in ‘all three of us’ us?”

“…yeah. I don’t think she’d freak too badly, but… it just never came up.” The blond blew out a whoosh of breath as he sat back against the couch again, fingers laced behind his head. He shot his partner a rather guilty look. “…I sort of never let it come up, I guess really…”

Tristan grunted in reply as he dropped down onto the couch beside him; considering his own family’s less-than-enthusiastic response to what Duke still insisted on calling ‘Full Frontal Disclosure’ (a big fat drama of horrified blame in all directions complete with an accompanying soundtrack of shouting), he couldn’t really say much. Duke had had it easy—his father was way less concerned about his son’s love life than his own internal stimuli; and as for Joey…

Joey Wheeler’s father hadn’t even been a factor. Barely a month after high school had ended had seen the blond apartment-hunting with Tristan and Duke; and while the second-floor flat they shared was hardly palatial it was still one hell of an improvement over beer-bottles and the occasional alcoholic rage. Joey’s mom had approved of the move, not surprisingly. She had also been present when the apartment’s one rather large bed had been carried in (and had commented with her eyebrows but had said nothing), so he assumed that she had a pretty good idea of what was going on with the all-three-of-us thing, or at the very least a two-out-of-three thing, or… whatever. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t volunteered.

Serenity, though—

The blond winced.

“Hey, it’s okay, y’know? Had to happen sooner or later.” A large hand riffled through the hair on top of Joey’s head before sliding down to the back of his neck; he had dropped his gaze towards the floor without even thinking about it, and now he glanced back up gratefully. Hazel-brown eyes met his, and he leaned a little into the hand; dog-jokes aside, Joey had always liked being petted. “And I’m okay with her bunking here with us for a night or two if she needs to. Everybody fights with their family sooner or later—”

The blond sighed. “Yeah.” Those fingers felt so good… He shifted a little closer.

“—though,” added Tristan thoughtfully, “Duke’ll probably go flatline on you. Four people, one bathroom… Remember what he did the last time you tied it up for too long?”

“………………….” He remembered. It had involved a shoe wedged beneath the door from the outside, a knob that just wouldn’t turn, and being stuck in a very small, windowless lavatory for nearly an hour before the other two had finally taken pity on his yowls of outrage and let him out. “I had a job interview. If they hadn’t rescheduled, I’d still be bussing tables and you bastards’d be having to fork over more rent,” Joey muttered. “Duke’ll just have to deal with it. This is my sister we’re talking about.”

The couch squeaked as Tristan leaned back, fingertips still stroking the other’s nape. “Don’t worry, maybe they can trade eyeliner secrets or someth—“ He yelped as the blond elbowed him in the ribs, then cleared his throat as steps came back down the hall. “Um… ” The fingertips slid unobtrusively away. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just…. go put away the laundry, okay?” He climbed to his feet, hazel-brown eyes a little sheepish. “You two probably’ve got stuff to talk about—“

The young woman with the reddened eyes smiled awkwardly at her brother and his friend, pushing back damp strands of hair. “You with the laundry and Joey with the dishes,” she murmured, nodding at the dishtowel still hanging out of Joey’s pocket. “You look so domestic… What does Duke do?”

“Oh, I’m purely ornamental,” said a new voice lightly as the door clicked closed at last.

Duke Devlin leaned against the jamb, one hand still on the knob; an eyebrow arched upwards as his green gaze flicked from Serenity’s face to the bag beside his feet. Something flickered in his eyes—realization, faint annoyance, understanding, calculation; it was only there for a second or so, but he always had been the quick one. “They just keep me around so they have something to aspire to, you know? Hey, Serenity,” he finished, smiling his slanted smile.

“Um….”

“I’ll fold out the futon-couch in the spare bedroom, shall I?” he went on easily, tossing keys and wallet onto their place on top of the television as usual. “It’s in the spare bedroom and pretty comfortable; you should be okay there, right? Right. Want to give me a hand, Tris?” Without waiting for an answer, the ponytailed creator of Dungeon Dice slipped past his audience of three and down the hall towards the room that they used for Duke’s computer hook-up, Joey’s books and everybody’s general spillover from the rest of the apartment.

His two partners looked at each other. “… Yeah,” said Joey a little bemusedly. “That okay for you, Serenity?”

The young woman blinked. “Um—if, if it’s not too much trouble-- I feel so bad about dumping my problems on you, but I—“ She broke off as her brother picked up her bag and shook his head. “I feel bad about taking somebody’s bed, though—“

??-- Oh. Joey felt his ears burn a little as he paused. She must think one of us sleeps on the futon and maybe one of us has the couch or something like that-- He hesitated. Just how did a guy explain to his little sister that he was screwing not just one of his room-mates but both of them? He looked longingly towards the hall and the futon-setting-up sounds coming from the spare room. Jeeze… Talk about the better part of valor… Trios weren’t exactly the easiest things in the world for people to accept as it was, and all-male trios… “You’re not pushing anybody out of a bed, Sis,” Joey said as steadily as he could, hugging her awkwardly and then stepping back. “We’ll figure out something. I mean, one of us can take the couch like we usually do;” he raised his voice slightly (and the futon-setting-up noises paused briefly) before going on. “—and I guess the other two can share the bedroom. It’s a big bed.”

And it was—big, that is. Of course, it had to be a big bed, all things considered. Duke slept like a cat, taking up more room than should have been possible for anybody so thin, and Tris, well, he wasn’t exactly on the small side… and Joey had been told that he tended to sprawl. And to steal all the pillows, which was a steaming pile of bull. Whatever.

“—so we’ll manage just fine, don’t worry,” he concluded. Serenity gave her brother a doubtful look, but followed him down the hall towards the spare room.

Tris had just finished tucking in the top-sheet on the fold-out, and Duke was halfway through putting a clean pillowcase in place; it looked pretty presentable, and the blond felt relief sweep through him. He plunked the bag down onto the bookcase by the door, toed aside a small stack of Tris’ motorcycle magazines and shrugged apologetically at the mess. “Sorry ‘bout all the junk… Look, tomorrow’s Saturday and none of us need to go anywhere early for a change; Tris and me are off, Duke doesn’t have to be at his shop ‘til what, noon? Yeah… so if you want to sleep late, feel free, okay?” The other two had already edged out the door, and Joey hesitated for a second, looking into his sister’s reddened eyes again. “Serenity… if you feel like talking in the morning—well, I’m all ears. But if you don’t… that’s okay too. Just try and get some sleep tonight, willya?” He glanced at the wall clock as she nodded mutely; it was nearly half past midnight already.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, towels are in the basket by the tub, and if you need anything, just—“ (The blond hesitated, a mental image of Serenity poking her head through the bedroom doorway and heart-attacking at the sight of a Tristan-Joey-Duke tangle on the bed) “—just knock really, really loudly. And, uh, don’t come in ‘til I answer—“

“I’ll be fine,” she said softly, fidgeting a little with the bracelet that she wore on one wrist. “…Joey? Thanks. Thank you very much. And tell your friends thanks for me, please?”

He nodded, smiling just a little. “I will. G’nite, Sis. Don’t let the bed-bugs bite…” The door clicked shut behind him.

Whew. Well, that had gone well…

Sheesh. Wish she’d say what’s bothering her so much. He mooched rather moodily down the hall, scratching at his ribs through his shirt. I’m glad she came here, though. She could have gone to a friend’s house, but she came here instead… kind of weird, though. And what was up with that thing ‘bout Mom? ‘Mom thinks that you—‘ Thinks that I what? What? He shook his head, one hand on the jamb beside his bedroom door. Shit. Tris and Duke took it pretty well, but… she’s a teenaged girl, she doesn’t know about the three of us, and this is gonna make things kind ofURRKK!

A hand had just clapped itself across his mouth from the right. From the left, an arm across his chest dragged him backwards into the bathroom. Joey flailed. “MMPH!” Another hand slid across his stomach, delicately tracing the contours of his shirt down until it found the edges and crept beneath. “Mmph?? MFF!” Joey was ticklish. The hand feathered across his skin. “Mmmmhmm…”

“Going somewhere?” murmured Tristan’s voice from his left.

“Maybe he’s looking for bedbugs,” whispered Duke from his right. The door closed as the light came on.

Strong hands curved around his jaw, tilting Joey’s head to one side as teeth nipped at his earlobe. “MMPH,” he said with emphasis from behind the hand, doing a little nibbling of his own. From the soft laugh against the nape of his neck, apparently the hand belonged to Tristan; the fingers beneath Joey’s shirt drew a small circle around his navel, and he squirmed. “MMMPHGL!!”

Joey was very ticklish.

“Let him go, Tris, before he scares his sister,” murmured the ponytailed brunet against their partner’s ear. Reluctantly the tormenting fingers slid away, then paused and dipped downwards and sideways to smooth the line of hip and thigh even as the arm across Joey’s chest tightened possessively. Apparently Tristan wasn’t done playing yet; once he got going, the larger of the three was one hell of a tease sometimes...

“You look a little hot and bothered, Joey,” whispered Duke, breath warm against his throat as the other worked his way from ear steadily down to collarbone. “Tris and I, we thought maybe you needed a shower. What do you think, hm?”

…and it had been a long day, what with plumbing and dishes and sisters and everything. A shower sounded really, really good right then… “Uh-- we have to be—“

“—quiet? Don’t worry, we’ll manage.” Tristan’s broad hand slid backwards, stroking through denim; that wasn’t his thigh it was cupping anymore, and Joey squirmed again in an entirely different way. “We’ll just have to make sure your mouth’s busy and it’ll be all good.”

The blond opened the mouth in question to answer indignantly, and he really would have done so if Duke hadn’t seen fit to kiss him into silence right about then.

---

Hot water can work wonders.

Well, hot water and other things, like exhaustion….. Some time later, three damp and disheveled young men lazed about the living room, talking as quietly as possible. One a.m. had come and gone while they had been occupied, and now two oh-my-god-it’s-early was well on its way and heading towards morning.

It was, Duke had lazily remarked, a mercy that none of them had work the next day, because what with one thing or another they weren’t going to be worth much. “I’d be worth a lot more if you hadn’t shoved me into the hot-water knob,” muttered Tristan, rubbing a bruise in a particularly tender place.

The other had merely grinned, green eyes flashing. “I didn’t hear you complaining much at the time, did I? I wonder why that could be?”

They had managed to keep the noise down to an amazingly low level, all things considered; it was a fair bet that Serenity had heard the shower running and very little more (or at least, so Joey hoped. GOD, how he hoped. He didn’t want to find out if it was actually possible to die from embarrassment.) Anyway— “Back on topic, guys, okay?” He pushed wet hair from his eyes, slumping back between his two partners on the lumpy couch and frowning. “Dunno what my sister’s problem with Mom is, but, uh… Um. Right. I’m hoping this’ll clear up quick, but if it doesn’t—look, do you two have a problem with her staying? ‘Cause if there’s one thing about Serenity that hasn’t changed since we were kids, it’s… she’s stubborn, y’know? Real stubborn.” He sighed, watching a droplet of leftover bathwater trickle down his forearm. “A day or so’s okay, but what if it’s longer?”

Duke opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it; his expressive eyebrows drew together beneath the damp strands of black hair as he drew a comb through the mass with a shhshing sound. “You think it might be?”

On Joey’s other side, Tristan stretched, muscled arms gripping and extending overhead against the wall. “I remember when we went looking for you during Battle City,” he said contemplatively; “She wouldn’t stay behind, and damned if I didn’t think she was gonna head off on her own if we didn’t take her with us, blind or not. She’s stubborn, all right—like her brother.” Hazel eyes slowly closed as he relaxed, hands interlaced behind his head; “Longer… Could be. Do they fight a lot?”

“More than they used to,” said Joey moodily. “Mayby it’s just ‘cause she’s older now; Mom can get sort of pushy sometimes. So--?”

The owner of Black Crown Games yawned. “Joey, she’s your sister; we’ll deal with it, okay?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “And in the meantime, she’ll have to put up with us too, won’t she?”

“Yeeeeaahhh….”

Tristan elbowed his friend. “No leaving the bathroom door open when you pee anymore, Joey.”

“Hey! Like you’re one to talk—“

“And no drinking straight from the milk-carton, Tris,” smirked Duke, sliding the comb through again; his skin was pink with scrubbing where he had removed his customary eyeliner for the night. “Or leaving your underwear on the living-room floor, or having hot monkey sex on the computer desk—“

Tristan flushed; normally the most composed of them all, it was funny to see him discomfited. “I only did that once,” he muttered. “And I got the printer fixed afterwards. AND the desk. It’s not like I do that every day, is it?”

“Not yet, though we keep hoping,” his partner assured him.

With another yawn, Duke turned back towards Joey. “Look, it’s okay. If she has to stay longer, we’ll manage. And now that we’ve got that settled, it’s time for the really tough question,” he murmured, slinging an arm around each of his companions’ necks. One hand slid over to stroke Tristan’s shoulder while the other played with Joey’s still-damp hair, threading the strands between fingertips.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” The blond blinked at him.

Smirk. “Who’s the unlucky bastard who gets to sleep on the couch?” He flicked at the dice-earring hanging to one side, wicked eyes grinning. “I’m feeling lucky tonight; how ‘bout you two?”

In the end, they did roll for it, but they used Tristan’s dice, not Duke’s. There was no use in giving him more of an advantage than he already had, after all.

---

To Be Continued…

Ysabet's Notes: Don't laugh at my fledgling slash, please; I'm writing this while working on Windfall, Shuffle, and a few other fics. Doing my best! Whew...