continuing from here

Thomas hadn't spent a lot of time of late in that fancy apartment he'd gotten for himself but it certainly hadn't crossed his mind to get rid of the place. Even if it had a faint air of not-being-lived-in, it was still his, his own. Besides, it'd always had that air, even when he was in it every night.

And it was certainly a convenient place to return to with a more-or-less willing new acquaintance. So they got to know each other better. Right. Better without their clothes on, maybe.

"Well," he says, as he shows her in, "here we are."

We all know how it works right? Pick a pairing, or name a character you want see or whatever. And I'll write a fic where they 'snuggle' and/or do whatever you request. And I make no promises on actually snuggling though? :D What? I'm just like that...

Loki
Thomas - raith_wraith
Derek - reluctant_ruler
Marek or Seteh - vermiliondesert

And if you know one of my others and want to request, feel free, I just don't feel like listing them all. :)

Request here

Big stuff happened for Thomas in Turn Coat. I'm not sure how I'll be playing him yet. Pretty sure I'll be going with canon-him, at least mostly. And...because of that? People who read him regularly (all two of you), let me know if you haven't read the book and don't want to be spoiled. Otherwise, I'll probably be posting for him without spoiler warnings.

She was gorgeous. Fit, tanned, perfect hair and makeup and with clothes like that she probably had a personal shopper. But even more than those things, what drew him to her was simple. She wanted him.

They shared a glance across the lobby of a far-too-expensive hotel and he smiled when he saw her step falter, slightly, and her cheeks color. He stood by the front desk in a courier's uniform as he waited for the clerk to take his delivery. He should have been all but invisible to these so-called elite of Chicago. Anyone else would have been.

( But Thomas could have been dressed like any bum off the street and still drawn the eye of almost every woman in here... )

character: Thomas Raith
fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
wordcount: 1650
partner: OC and Justine (based off canon history)
time: some point between Blood Rites and Proven Guilty

He was doing something he'd been sure for far too long would remain always impossible for him. He was lying in bed with his arms around Justine, skin to skin, with no unpleasant side-effects. There was a certain amount of effort that lay with suppressing Justine's protection so that this was possible, but he'd grown capable enough to handle it over the past few months to the point where it had become nearly automatic. It even worked while he slept.

She was sleeping, her breathing steady and a smile on her lips. Even now, after all this time, Thomas was still amazed to have her again. To truly be with her. So of course he could be forgiven his dalliance with her. For a moment, he scowled slightly at the intruding thought. Thomas wasn't yet ready to be Thomas Raith, Winter Knight, again. Let him remain simply Thomas Raith for another minute or three. Better yet, merely Thomas. Thomas with Justine, the woman he loved.

Loved enough he'd do all sorts of terrible things to keep her safe.

The thought was in his head now, though, reminding him he had other duties to attend to as much as he'd prefer to remain here. Thomas sighed and brushed a gentle kiss over Justine's forehead. That gesture was as good as speaking three words he was, even now, hesitant to say. Only then did he slowly extricate himself from the bed, ensuring she'd remain asleep as he did so. With luck, he'd return before she woke.

He wasn't superstitious, precisely, but that didn't stop him from knocking the bed's headboard anyway, just in case.

Quickly, Thomas dressed and left the apartment after one glance back to the woman still sleeping peacefully on his bed.

He had a job to do.

***

He should have knocked more wood.

The task had been simple enough. Retrieve a certain object from a certain group of mortals who held it in a rather well-protected vault. Well protected in both the physical and magical senses. Plan A had involved equal combinations of charm and guile. If it had worked, he would have been invited into the vault and from there if something had made its way into one of his pockets...well, that was purely accidental, of course.

Unfortunately, Plan A hadn't worked. They saw him coming. Recognized him for what he was. Both vampire and Winter Knight. And Thomas had rarely been very good at charming male fanatics pointing semi-automatic weapons in his face.

The idea here had been to avoid open conflict and so Thomas had found himself moving on to Plan B. Plan B was a little more convoluted but likely should have been his first move. At least it wouldn't have tipped hem off immediately to who was interested in their vault. He'd obviously been around Harry too long if he'd tried the more direct approach first.

It hadn't been difficult to entice, through various roundabout means, a talented mortal thief with a penchant for magical items into trying to steal the artifact for herself. In fact, he'd already laid the threads and groundwork for that one before he'd let himself be a little distracted by Justine. Easy enough to set in motion when Plan A failed horribly. Easy enough to make it appear to be coincident to his own interest in the place.

Too bad there wasn't enough left of the thief to fill a cigar box when they were finished with her. At least he could rest easy knowing she couldn't have told them who sent her on this job since she had managed to convince herself it was all her own idea. He'd worry about uneasy rest over causing her death later.

At this point, he went back to the drawing board. The group wasn't supposed to have this sort of power, despite the artifact they held. Relative pushovers, really, Thomas should have been able to handle them even without the whole Winter Knight gig.

Obviously he'd been wrong. They had a patron.

A rather powerful patron, it turned out, and one who came to have a few words with him about kindly leaving his vault alone lest Thomas' queen suddenly find herself looking for a new Knight.

Thomas never did take to threats well.

It would be polite to say they had a disagreement. That got rather loud and messy.

Thomas was still cleaning dragon's blood out from under his fingernails when he arrived back at the vault and announced his ownership of it by dint of trial by combat. No one argued with him this time and no one was stupid enough to try semiautomatic weapons again.

That, at least, was the good news. He got what he came for. Even if the bad news was it had taken three days longer than he'd anticipated.

Simple little job, his perfect ass.

"And now," he announced to an empty hall, "her Ladyship can't even seem to grace her Knight with her presence." Maeve being nowhere to be found or at least no one in Faerie seemed to know where she was at the moment. Well, no one he cared to ask, anyway. Thomas certainly wasn't going to go before Mab if he didn't have to to find out where her daughter was.

"The Lady can't do such a thing if she's gone to her Knight's home now, can she?" asked someone behind him. Not such an empty hall, then.

Thomas turned to see Jenny Greenteeth smiling prettily at him, but no less dangerous for all she was pretty. "Oh, did she?"

"Indeed she did," Jenny affirmed.

He looked at her appraisingly, "and left you here as the messenger for me, mm?"

Jenny's eyes widened perhaps a bit too theatrically, "and couldn't I have stayed of my own will to help you?"

For a long moment, Thomas looked at her before smiling, baring white teeth, "No, you couldn't." He bowed slightly, "but it seems I have other places to be." And before the Sidhe could make any other comment, he took his leave.

Home, then.

[continued here]

They say you never forget your first time. They're certainly right about that. I wish I could forget her, sometimes. But that would just be too easy. And I shouldn't forget. I guess if I ever do, that just makes me even more like them.

She wasn't beautiful. Well, she was to a boy in the throes of his first crush but...she was cute. Blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a body she was still growing into. That was okay, I was still growing into mine too. Remembering her now, she looks so young. I can't even imagine what she might have looked like as a full grown woman. ( She probably would have been beautiful. )

character: Thomas Raith
fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
wordcount: 733
partner: OC (based off canon history)

It's funny how easy it is to get in a rut. Even when you're sort of technically a supernatural creature of the night.

Or whatever.

Or maybe especially because, to hear Harry talk about the difference between humans and the creatures who only sometimes looked like them.

Thomas has a routine now. Get up, do all the morning ablutions, make sure his hair is just so, pick out his ensemble to wear for the day, drive on down into work. And maybe there, in the salon, he plays a role, but it's just a job. The same job he goes to every single day. Smile and gossip and do the ladies' hair and steal just enough of their souls to keep on going. Madness isn't something he wants to experience firsthand. Neither is starvation.

Sure, every now and again something happens that throws things out of whack. Usually it's something his brother is right in the middle of. Crazy necromancers, crazy faerie queens, crazy vampires, crazy fallen angels. A whole lotta crazy, actually, now that he thinks about it. And we're back to that madness thing again.

But even with all of the excitement, Thomas' day to day life is...pretty normal. Kind of boring. Even if it is a double life.

That, for a Raith, is par for the course. He's got siblings who play at seven different lives before breakfast.

Okay, maybe only three.

The point is, he tells himself, he doesn't have it bad. Nice apartment in a nice neighborhood, nice car -- when Harry isn't ruining it -- and a nice job with nice people. He's supporting himself which he couldn't have said for most of his adult life. It's a good life. And sometimes he even gets to help people.

But when he comes home more nights than not, tosses something frozen in the microwave to eat, and finds himself staring at a single white knit scarf he's left hanging on his coat rack, he knows. Something's missing. Someone.

He'll stare until the microwave's timer goes off before he shakes himself out of it and goes over to retrieve his dinner a la Healthy Choice. And so he sits down and eats. Merely to keep going, he doesn't even taste the food. He should, he mutters to the empty room, put the scarf away. He's nearly brushed into it more times than he can remember. It's warmed up outside, anyway, he can't wear it anymore.

But.

Every so often, as he passes by, he thinks he can smell her.

Maybe he'll put it away later.

character: Thomas Raith
fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
wordcount: 416
partner: Justine (canon)
comments here

The woman below him let out a breathy little moan. "Oh yes, that feels wonderful."

Thomas smiled, his fingers moving rhythmically, assuredly, "like that?"

She sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing into his hands' embrace, "you really know how to treat a girl, Thomas." She pronounced his name oddly, the accent not where you'd expect, making him sound a little European, maybe French.

Chuckling, Thomas continued massaging his client's scalp as he worked the shampoo through her hair, "but of course, my dear. Making others feel, how did you say? Wonderful? That is my life's work."

Opening her eyes again, she peered up at him through a halo of soap suds and warm water, "you sure you don't want to come back over to this side, sweetie?" She licked her lips in an unconscious gesture, "there are a lot of girls out there who'd be thrilled."

Gently, Thomas smiled down at her in a tolerant sort of fashion, as if he heard comments like that every day as he took his hands off her to turn the water on for rinsing. He ignored the almost involuntary little whimper she made at the loss of his touch. Maria Blakeney had been one of his long-time clients. Perhaps she'd been one for too long. Once he'd gotten the water to its proper temperature, he began rinsing, "oh non, Maria," he even managed to sound apologetic, "I am afraid that while I love to help make beautiful women it is not they who, what is the term? 'Do it' for me." Suddenly, she sat up, long, wet hair streaming behind her, soaking the back of her shirt, the floor, not that she seemed aware of either. Thomas frowned, "honey, you are getting water everywhere, what is the matter?"

Maria shook her head, sending water droplets flying all around her, one of her hands closing around his wrist for balance as she leaned forward precariously on the chair, using its footrest to perch on so they were nose to nose. Or near enough. "I don't believe you," she said, her voice gone velvety in a way she probably imagined made her sound like some sort of femme fatale temptress. "No gay man can touch a woman the way you were touching me just now."

Oh. thought Thomas. Shit. He hadn't been paying enough attention. Drew her in too far and now here she was trying to seduce him. He opened his mouth to protest, to try to defuse the situation but she used her free hand to place a quelling finger on his lips. Though that turned into more of a caress than a shut up gesture. She continued as if he hadn't tried to speak, "just let me show you what I mean..." and then she replaced her finger with her lips.

Probably he ought to have pushed her away, set her right back down in that chair properly, called in one of the girls to finish up her hair. Probably he ought not have wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss with the kind of near-savage heat she'd likely only read about in Harlequin novels.

When he finally let her go, she was panting slightly, her face flushed, and likely more than just her shirt was damp. She was begging him for it, right here, he could tell. She wouldn't even protest that a dozen people were just on the other side of that curtain, she wouldn't make a sound beyond soft little noises meant for his ears alone. All he had to do was pull her close again and...

No. Thomas shook his head firmly and turned away from her. "You should go, Maria."

"But-"

"Go. Now." His voice held a tone of command she couldn't, quite, resist. Quietly, she left the room.

Thomas didn't move from where he stood until he heard her leave the salon, his knuckles white as he clenched them against his sides, his breath coming even and measured as he concentrated on that and not following Maria Blakeney back to her home and doing all sorts of unmentionable things to her.

It had been too long. Of course the salon kept him full but...well, it was the difference in taking tiny bites of food food several times a day to survive when what you really want is the full course banquet. It hardly helped that his favorite food was now practically waved under his nose but he couldn't even touch it. Her. Couldn't touch her. Justine. He loved her. He probably loved her more than was healthy or sane but he also wanted in ways that had nothing at all to do with love. It was supremely maddening, enough that sometimes he almost thought it best to send her away again. Surely she'd be better off with someone other than him. Someone not a monster. Surely he'd be better off not having the mere temptation of her scent following him around everywhere. His doe, his, and he couldn't even-

That drew Thomas up short, he recognized where that train of thought was headed and cut it off ruthlessly. He'd known what he was getting into when he'd brought her home. He could deal with this. He had to.

Only once Thomas was sure he had himself under his own control once again did he suddenly notice just how quiet the front area of the salon had gotten. He turned to face the curtained doorway that led to the other room and noticed the shadow of someone on the floor on the other side. "Thomas?" came a hesitant, feminine voice. She too used the more European pronunciation. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Yes, he had himself under control but he could hardly feign his usual constant cheer right at this moment so he didn't bother trying for anything past neutral as he passed through the curtain. "Mrs. Blakeney and I had a-...misunderstanding. I am sorry for the disruption." Everyone stared, he offered no explanation, just forced a little smile and went to busy himself looking at his appointments book.

Slowly, normal conversation resumed around the salon, though Thomas could guess at what some of the whispers were. They were just waiting for him to leave the room so the gossip could fully burst forth.

That expression of raw need and hunger he'd seen in Maria's eyes flashed into his mind again. He could understand the feeling. The ladies might have appeared to have turned their attention back to chatting with one another but Thomas could feel more than a few giving him a sort of renewed attention he'd hoped they had let go upon learning of his tragic unavailability to those of the female persuasion.

Just how much was he projecting?

No way was he going to get any actual work done today. And one of the perks of being the owner was you could blow off the job and not get fired. "Jessica," he said.

The salon's receptionist looked up, her cheeks coloring a little, "yes?"

Thomas favored her with one of his blinding smiles, "cancel the rest of my appointments today, yes?"

She stared back at him, the pink tinge in her cheeks spreading, "uh...okay? What do I tell them?"

"Tell them...tell them I am ill and reschedule them for later in the week." He beamed at her, "I will see you ladies all tomorrow!" And before anyone else could protest, not that they could have under the weight of that brilliant smile, Thomas whisked himself out the door.

He was definitely sick alright. But, he'd decided, he really did need to see Maria again. Smooth things over. Even if it took all night.

---

( ooc: )

So here I am, still in Chicago. Of course, so's Dresden. Which is kind of the point, I guess. Some part of me's wishing he was still one step ahead and I'd never come face to face with him. That would, at least, make my life a little less complicated.

There are, after all, some things the Wardens don't want to hear. Like how one of their own was captured by a bad guy for a while there and injected and possibly made addicted to narcotic vampire spit. Things like that. Makes them not trust a guy. Which...you really don't want the Wardens questioning your loyalty.

And that's without even the oh yes, by the way, he says he's my brother bombshell.

Or the far too uncomfortably close proximity of the old family that I prudently don't mention around them anyway. Yeah, my father is the White King? Not a good conversation starter. And something I'd rather pretend wasn't the case anyway.

So here I am, desperately wishing I could take a vacation in Tahiti. It sounds nice. Better than all this cold, anyway. And somehow I ended up getting assigned here. Well, if you're going to keep an eye on Dresden, you might as well keep an eye on the whole city too!

Watch me jump for joy.

I'm so screwed.

---

( Also: a conversation with Kiki on the whole thing. )

So, what do you guys think? (Lara!Mun? Want to play along?)

[he really needs some Winter Knight!icons. Hah.]

In which Thomas and Maeve have a chat. Among other things. And Maggie finally discovers that her eldest has given himself in service to the Winter Court.

( Click me! )

Please to be assuming that any future posts from Thomas might contain spoilers for Backup as I've just finished reading it and there are ideas swirling in my head.

I'll try to remember to warn/cut, but I'm not making promises.

If you want Thomas to be involved in anything (plot or just easy meta crack or whatever), I'm totally open to that. Just...you need to poke me. I'm not feeling terribly inclined right now toward poking every time I want someone to play with him. I'm more likely to go play Kingdom Hearts or something.

Leave a note here, email me, IM me, whatever. :)

1. Your Name:
2. Are we friends?
3. Do you have a crush/attracted to me?
4. Would you kiss me?
5. ...with tongue?
6. Would you enjoy it?
7. Would you ever ask me out or go out with me if I ask you out?
8. Would you make a move on me in a movie theatre?
9. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
10. Would you take care of me when I'm sick?
11. Do you want to tell me something that you couldn't before?
12. If you heard a rumour about me, would you defend me?
13. Do you think I'm a good person?
14. Would you let me sleep with you (in the same bed)?
15. Do you think I'm hot?
16. Would you call me just because?
17. Would you ever listen to my problems even if they don't involve you?
18. If you could change anything about me, would you?
19. Would you have sex with me?
20. Would you come over for no reason just to hang out?
21. What do you like most about me (looks and/or personality)?
22. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?

Figured it might be pertinent to a particular AU. This came after poking through Summer Knight.

( Quotes under here )




I'll probably do Proven Guilty and Small Favor too at some point, but not right now. :)

[a while back, Jag asked for Warden!Thomas. It percolated in my brain a while and this sort of resulted. I'm pretty sure it's not the end and it likely needs work but...here you go! In all of its 1811 words glory!]

A fairy tale this was not.

Of course, when you're tracking a wanted murderer who just happens to be a dark wizard, well, it wasn't likely to have a happy ending.

For the bad guy, anyway.

( I'd been following him for over a year now... )

He was good. For a while. Even if he did hang onto the card. It didn't really seem like the sort of thing he could exactly just dispose of, leaving a Faerie Queen's phone number lying around. Even if that was a bit irrational. Besides, there was always the chance it might come in useful some day. Maybe. So he kept it and went about his life.

For a while.

But in the back of his mind, he did keep wondering what it would hurt to just find out what she wanted from him. He could always say no. Even Elaine said she wouldn't be able to force him into anything. And he was curious just what he could do for the Winter Queen that she offered him as big a boon as she had seemed to.

And hey, at least she wasn't one of the Fallen. Though Thomas was pretty certain there were those who would argue she wasn't much better, if at all. But he'd grown up around this sort of thing, hadn't he? Misdirection. Making deals. The subtleties of the White Court. That had to be something in his favor.

Some part of him made that sound sensible. Almost. Enough.

It didn't help that ever since he'd seen Justine that day -- and had her snatched away from him yet again -- he'd felt an almost palpable ache without her presence. In some ways, it was worse than the first time. Then he hadn't known there was any way around it, really. Now?

Now there was. And that was what he kept coming back to.

If he could really be with her again, she could be with him. He could protect her, she wouldn't have to stay under Lara's aegis anymore. Just another way to get himself out from under the thumb of his sister. So to speak.

So that's how it came down to Thomas walking by the Lake far too late at night when he really should be doing something sensible. Like sleeping. Instead of letting his mind spin around all the possibilities. The what-could-bes. Mostly centering on those he wanted far too much.

The card was in his pocket. What could it really hurt? he could almost hear the sibilant whisper in the back of his mind. He wasn't committing to anything. Not really. He knew better than that.

He pulled the card out and stared at it for several long moments before slowly also retrieving his cell. Just as slowly, he dialed the number and listened to his phone ring.

The die was cast.

To say that Thomas wasn't in the best of moods after leaving Justine would be... well, a definite understatement. At least he had part of the equation figured out. Now if he just knew what Mab wanted from him. Of course, there was really only one way to find that out.

By asking her.

He could practically feel the thin piece of cardstock in his pocket pressing against his leg. Just call her up, right? Well, before that, he had some information gathering to do first. Namely, from his brother. Harry was the one who'd been dealing with her lately and he'd already gotten Maggie's opinion of the matter. So. Harry.

Thomas pulled up outside of Harry's apartment and headed down to the door. He'd tried to call ahead, but couldn't get through and figured the combined magical auras of two wizards living down there had probably put the phones on the fritz, as usual, so he wasn't too terribly concerned. And just because Elaine was living there now didn't prevent Thomas from letting himself in and calling out, "hey, Harry, you here?"

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Canyon

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