Author: blacksand1 PM
Alternatively titled, how to simultaneously fail at gay sex and make Thomas Raith laugh harder than he ever has in his life without really trying. Harry/Butters, set shortly after Dead Beat. Rated T for blatant offscreen sex and profanity.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - H. Dresden - Words: 2,064 - Reviews: 4 - Published: 06-03-12 - id: 8181445
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Thomas Raith glared at Harry's fireplace (as he had been doing for most of the night) and grumbled, "I need my own fucking place."
Mouse opened his eyes (probably roused by the profanity more than anything else) and cocked his head to the side, and Thomas directed his glare down at the massive dog.
"Don't act like you can't hear them screwing like rabbits every night!" he snapped. Thomas flicked some of his luxurious hair over one shoulder with a frown; don't get him wrong, he was as happy as the next guy that his brother had found someone after Susan (even if he was confused that Harry had chosen to shack up with Butters of all people). What he wasn't happy about was the fact that his brother apparently moaned like a bitch during sex. Sex that interfered with the time Thomas reserved for sleeping.
He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back into the couch; well, there was no use complaining about it. Might as well try to tune them out…
"Ahn– Butters, I - oh god, oh god OH GOD!"
Thomas sat up ramrod straight, Mouse leapt to his feet, and Mister let out a hiss before skittering as far away from the bedroom as he could. Thomas for a second or two could only blink; he had no idea Harry's voice could even go that high. Slowly and uncertainly, he slunk over to the door to eavesdrop, reminding himself all the way that he was going to regret whatever he heard.
"Oh my God…"
"Holy shit, are you alright?"
"No I am NOT, you fucking ripped my stomach open with your dick! Oh my Gooood…"
It took all of Thomas's self control and willpower not to laugh. He had been dead wrong about regretting eavesdropping.
"That's physically impossible and you know it."
"Fine, my colon, but I know you ripped something! I'm gonna die…"
"Really? You nearly lose your hand and this is what you act like a baby about?"
"That didn't happen because of sex! Sex isn't supposed to kill you!"
"You are NOT- wait a minute. Oh my fuck you're bleeding."
Thomas, being the caring and considerate brother that he was, collapsed into barely restrained giggles. The animals glared disapprovingly.
"Alright, at least try and put some pants on," Butters began as he awkwardly opened the door, put on his glasses and put on his jeans at the same time; he stopped to glare just as disapprovingly at Thomas.
The stupidly gorgeous man struggled to his feet and, while using Butters as a support, choked out between giggles, "Congratulations, Waldo! You managed to do what so many could not: kill Harry Dresden!"
"THOMAS YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!" Harry shouted from the bedroom.
"Yeah, but I'm not a bleeding asshole!" Thomas called back.
Butters sighed; "Hilarious. Now try and start the Beetle, we're taking him to the hospital."
Thomas took a few deep breaths, and though he managed to stop laughing, he hadn't stopped grinning as he wondered, "You're a doctor, can't you just fix him up here?"
Butters shook his head and glared up at the White Court vampire; "I'm a mortician, not a… buttsexologist." That sent Thomas crashing back down to the ground in a fit of raucous laughter, though not before he choked out something that was most likely 'buttsexologist oh my GOD'.
Butters smacked himself on the forehead and grumbled something that was more than likely explicit before turning to Mouse with a strained smile; "Hey, Mouse, buddy, could you drag Harry out of there? I'm gonna go start the Beetle. Thomas, if you ever stop laughing, make sure he's not feeling so sorry for himself that he can't put on pants."
Mouse gave Butters his most agreeable doggy grin and let out a chuffing sound before padding into the bedroom. Thomas dragged himself up and giggled all the way into the bedroom. Lucky for the cackling Incubus, Harry had managed to put on a pair of flannel pajama pants, but that was about it. He remained in the fetal position on the floor until Mouse- easily the only one in the house strong enough to carry him- eased him onto his back and carried him out to the Blue Beetle. Butters managed to start it after a lot of cursing in English and Yiddish, and thankfully Thomas had recovered enough to drive while Mouse, Harry and Butters occupied the back seat.
"Why even take me to the hospital? Might as well go out to Graceland and bury me right now," Harry moaned, "Bianca would get a laugh out of this. She'd have them re-chisel my tombstone to say 'Harry Dresden: He died getting fucked in the ass'."
"You're not going to die, Harry," Butters maintained, the exasperation mostly gone from his voice and leaving him sounding like a mother patiently dealing with her overreacting child.
"Yes, I am," the wizard retorted, "And I'm gonna take half the emergency room with me when my magic shorts everything out. Or maybe I'll just die of embarrassment, who knows."
"Either that or we'll learn you've just started up your period and are blossoming into womanhood," Thomas added from the front seat.
Butters glared at the back of his head; "Thomas, you are being incredibly unhelpful."
Thomas grinned back at the mortician from the rearview mirror; "Whoever said I was trying to help? I'm just getting some cheap laughs out of this situation."
"You're the worst brother ever," Harry groaned, squeezing Butters' hand to keep his mind off the literal pain in his ass. Butters just stroked his hair with a sympathetic sigh.
Thomas just sent his brother a sunny smile; "I love you too, Harry."
Things got worse when they got to the hospital. Apparently there'd been a shooting of some sort, and so the emergency room was a blur of activity, with doctors and nurses running every which way to get victims to operating rooms or turning their respective corner of the ER into an impromptu operating room, and cops accompanied any doctors who happened to be working on the perpetrators.
One of those cops happened to be Lieutenant Karrin Murphy.
Harry was the first to notice her, and when he did his face went white; "Oh God. Someone shoot me now. This is the worst night ever!"
Thomas just grinned and stifled his laughter once again; "No, Harry. This is the best night EVER!"
Murphy noticed them right then; "Harry? What are you guys…" The question died in her mouth when she actually analyzed what was in front of her. Harry was draped over his dog's back, both he and Butters were only wearing pants, the seat of Harry's pants was currently soaked through with blood, and Thomas had, quite literally, the stupidest grin on his face as he tried not to laugh.
"Do I want to know?" Muphy wondered.
"Whether or not you want to know, Thomas is going to tell you anyway," Butters replied.
Right on cue, Thomas laughed, "Butters screwed Harry so hard he's bleeding!" Now it was Murphy's turn to hide her uncontrollable giggles while Thomas went back to laughing harder than anyone in an emergency room had any right to. Murphy didn't trust herself to speak without ending up like Thomas, so she led Dresden and company to some chairs just outside the commotion of the emergency room, then left for parts unknown. Harry immediately situated himself in the fetal position with his head on Butters' lap again. Mouse sat down and licked Harry's face with a small whine.
Harry smiled as best he could and scratched behind Mouse's ears as he mumbled, "Wouldja look at that? Looks like Mouse is the only member of this family that actually cares about me."
"Yes, Harry. I hate you so much that I took you to the hospital when your ass was bleeding," Butters replied. "I hate you so much that I want you not to bleed to death out of your ass. That's just the kind of cruel person I am."
"Well obviously you want me to die of embarrassment, letting Murphy see me like this," Harry grumbled, pressing his face into Butters' thigh.
Butters absently played with Harry's hair as he remarked, "Well, given how you have an X-Men style healing factor going on, I think embarrassment would probably be the only thing that could take you down permanently."
"Oh. That's a nice thought," Harry quipped, muffled by Butters' leg. "We're changing that caption on my tombstone again. 'Harry Dresden: He died while really fucking embarrased about something. Probably because his friend Murphy caught him bleeding out of his ass'." Thomas just then took a few deep breaths, banishing the giggles from his system.
He then grinned wolfishly at Butters; "So, I had no idea you were the pitcher in this relationship, Butters."
The diminutive medical examiner slowly flushed red and focused his eyes on Harry's hair as he elaborated, "I… I'm not usually. This was the first time. Harry normally… uh, 'pitches', but since he's so tall his legs got all cramped up from having to be bent the entire time, so we decided to do this. You can see how well it turned out."
Thomas was about to reply, but then Harry wondered, "Butters, are you braiding my hair?"
Butters grinned as Thomas noticed he was indeed french-braiding Harry's hair; "Now why would I do something like that do you in your time of need?"
"Don't act innocent, this is your fault to begin with," the wizard snapped.
"I'd argue for it being your fault, since you always complained during pillow talk about your poor aching legs," Butters cooly stated.
Thomas smiled, though this time not at his brother's expense (well, not entirely at Harry's expense); "You two are like an old married couple already."
Butters blinked with a hesitant smile; "You think so, huh?"
"There's no use denying it," Murphy declared as she came back with three cups of coffee and one vanilla ice cream cone, "If it were legal in this state you two would be married in the morning." She distributed the coffee to anyone not bleeding anally, and handed the ice cream to Harry, who proceeded to semi-willingly share it with Mouse.
"Oh yes, now that he's made me bleed out of my ass I realize I oughta marry him nice and proper," Harry grunted as Mouse stole about half of his ice cream in one fell swoop.
Murphy took a sip of her coffee and was quiet for a minute, then she turned to Thomas with a dangerous glint in her eye; "If Susan ever comes back into town, we're telling her about this."
Thomas grinned again while Harry let out a horrified whining sound; "Hell yes we are."
It was about an hour before someone finally saw to Harry; luckily, all it ended up being was a small anal fissure, and Harry was sent away with Aspirin, a prescription for stool softeners, and instructions to have a warm bath (which basically guaranteed he was staying at Butters' house tonight). Butters didn't leave empty handed, either. He was sent off with a lecture on proper lubrication and a book literally titled Gay Sex for Dummies (which sent Murphy and Thomas back into giggle fits), and the lecture turned him so off from sex that he was relieved when the doctors advised them not to engage in that kind of 'activity' until Harry had healed.
And Harry finally got a bit of payback when, on their way up to Butters' place, Thomas' grin fell and he said, "Wait. Those are my pajama pants."
A/n– Moral of the story: All of Harry's friends are secretly high school-aged boys who laugh at each other's pain as long as it's not life-threatening. That's my headcanon right there. I do not own anything, blah blah, this was stupid and I am the only person on earth who ships this so yeah