Title: Mortifying Talk

Pairing: DeadBoy/JohnTaylor Implied Sex

Rated: T+

Words: 1,230

Summary: John realizes Cathy is a LOT more sneaky than he thought. And way too curious for her own good.

Unfortunately for me, this discussion took place as I waited outside my office for my transport. Cathy decided to help me pass the time by gossiping about the recent trends in the Nightside. What I failed to realize was that my life was not exempt from Cathy as she stopped beating around the bush and bluntly asked me the question on her mind, still thinking that was an endearing teenager trait. (I still hadn't the heart to tell her the truth. Maybe I should ask Suzie to tell her…)

"Boss! Is it really true that you're going out with the famous Dea-" I hastily covered her mouth while glaring at any passersby who were looking a little too intrigued. After making sure that the coast was clear, I chanced a glance at Cathy and winced.

Her eyes were practically sparkling and there was a glint that I was wary of. (Suzie sometimes had that glint. It made me feel like hiding under my bed for until the danger passed. Or finally caving in and buying her one of those miniature dinosaurs she liked.) By reacting, I practically did the equivalent of getting a megaphone and broadcasting to everyone that there was something juicy going on.

Cathy did a little twirl. She was too full of excitement and mischief to be contained, but she made the effort of lowering her voice to an excited whisper. "So you really are going out with Dead Boy! I wasn't quite sure until now, but…I had my suspicions." At this, she let out a giggle, her face full of glee.

Suspicions? Internally, I was panicking, worried about the implications of that bit, but I made myself appear calm, in control. My shoulders and back was lax while my face was impassive with a questioning brow. I was the picture of nonchalance. At least to everyone else. My secretary/daughter wasn't as easily fooled. Maybe it was because of the eyebrow thing.

"Alright Cathy, what do you mean by suspicions? What's your evidence?" See. All proper and detective like. However, that's when Cathy practically bounce next to me and started whispering all the little clues she picked up in the past few days. That's when my control started to falter. (Damn it. I was not blushing or anything remotely like that. Don't listen to Cathy.)

"Well… I didn't think anything of it at first. Just you guys hanging out after a job. However, I remembered that the last time I visited your place, there were some stuff that weren't yours and that he was hanging out with you in your free time!" She drew back with a smirk on her face and clasped her hands on her hips as if making a big discovery. Bloody hell. I knew there were drawbacks to having a secretary who's also trained to be a part-time detective.

"BUT. What really convinced me… was when you came in the office today for another case."

I blinked. "What's so bloody suspicious about that? I do come to the office every now and then, Cathy." She waved and shook her head. "No, no. That's not what I was talking about. It's this." She then leaned forward and… slowly pulled down my shirt collar a little and put my hand on my neck with a gentle (deceptive) smile. I felt my face burn instantly.

Icy cold hands were firmly clamped down around my own. Harsh, sharp teeth held me down, pinned my body to the feather soft bed. Cold flesh, quickly warming up because he was draped on top of me. Everything was burning and freezing and I gave an involuntary shudder when he-

"Ha- What makes you think that we were doing that? It could've been some kind of bruise or something a monster did. What makes you think that Dead Boy did that?" Oh dear. I think my voice just got a pitch higher. Cathy seemed amused.

"Well… I sure hope it wasn't a monster. I can see the teeth imprint clearly. I bet you when he gets here, it would match his perfectly." Her face was full of triumph while mine was busy trying to see if I hide under my coat. "Also, what really cinched it was that you were limping into the office. C'mon! Spill! Is he as good as they say he is? Details, John! A girl has to know these things!"

Those are definitely some of the things an adopted father never want to hear from his daughter. "Bloody hell, Cathy! Why would you want to know about anything about that? And he's-"

-so good. It felt amazing, but I bit down on a scream, tasting blood, but I can see the smugness pouring off him. And then he dove forward, kissing me with intensity that dead men is not suppose to have, swirling my blood in my mouth and into his. I felt dizzy, starved for air that dead men don't need, my hands scrambling on his thin shoulders for something to hold on to. Finally, he let me go, his gangly frame shaking with laughter and his fever bright eyes full of mischief. The only reason I didn't fall back was because his thin arms were holding me up with unnatural strength, saliva and blood lightly dripping from my mouth as I heaved for air. Finally, he dipped down, cool lips tracing twitching skin as my muscles tighten and I-

"Right here thank you very much. However, even if I'm dead, I still care about having a job so-" I felt someone snatch the back of my white coat and dragged me into the back seat of a really impressive, really familiar car. I also felt a sense of dread as I heard the car speeding away, but not before it was out of earshot from my secretary's parting words, "Make sure to get him back before curfew!"

A whistle. "Damn, Taylor. I thought that last night would've put you out of commission for a day at most, but here you are. You really aren't what you appear to be are you?" I was reluctant to face him, but he tilted my chin upwards with one cold hand, and then, I didn't have eyes for anything, but him.

He looked the same as always. Same ragged purple coat covering his gangly frame that's held together by duct tape, staples, and superglue. (They all create a very…interesting sensation.) Same oversized hat. Same fever bright eyes with sulky gray lips. Yet… his smile seems less forced and more mischievous and his eyes more focused.

"Dead Boy, what the bloody hell are you do-ING?" That was most definitely not a squeak. My words just tripped is all. I blame Dead Boy. Cause that's when he slipped a hand through my coat and into my shirt while he steadied his other hand on my hip. He nuzzled against the (love) bite and hummed an approval.

…I'm getting too old for this. Which is ridiculous since Dead Boy's actually older than me.

"My baby says it's going to take a while until we reach our destination. How about we keep ourselves… preoccupied in the meanwhile?"

…I did not let out a whimper. But we were quite distracted for a while. Almost missed the appointed time we were supposed to meet the client. …I don't think I need to tell you why.


Go to TalesFromTheNightside on LJ if you want to read it there.