Just Couldn't Help Myself

Wow. What a crazy couple of days. Sorry about the neglect, people, but between my GM duties, doctor’s appointments, and supporting the best band EVAR win a battle of the bands and subsequent record deal (can you tell I‘m excited?), the last couple of days have just been BONKERS. But, I’m back, no worries.

Anyways… here’s another chapter, and I’m working on a new chapter for ‘Crane’… which is looking to be pretty epic, if what I wanna do pans out. Also, if any of yas read the A/N… how would everyone feel about a backstory on Deacon?

Enjoy, and leave me reviews because I love the hell out them.
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“This is stupid.” I grumbled, kneeling uncomfortably beside the coffee table, my hands crossed over my crotch. “What’s the point of all of this?”

Stella ignored me, instead focusing entirely on her work; she was kneeling at the foot of the coffee table, just as naked as I was; all that perfect snow colored skin was both mesmerizing and a little unsettling. She had a book open in front of her, her pink eyes roaming over the page quickly, her lip caught between her teeth in concentration. Across from me, Deacon was watching Stella, and on the other side of Stella, Nanette was lighting candles. The whole things just seemed… off.

“It wasn’t like this.” Lonnie told me. “When I was turned into this. I wasn’t even there.”

“Reversal is harder.” Stella said absently, turning a page. “Now everyone, please, let me concentrate.” she looked over at Nanette, who had sat back, her arms crossed self-consciously across her ample chest. “Nan, you may begin.”

Nanette nodded, and then reached for my hand. I hesitated, then took it, and watched Deacon take the other. “All you two need to do is focus.” she told us. “Deacon knows the way.” he nodded. “Johnny, I need you to concentrate on the idea of pushing all of your energy outwards.”

“Uh… okay.” I said skeptically.

“Close your eyes.” I did. When she spoke again, her voice had taken on a breathy, catatonic quality, yet somehow seemed louder, more forceful, than her usual speaking voice. Whatever she was saying, I couldn’t understand it. It was… some other language. Harsh, heavy, full of consonants. It made me sleepy, and way too warm. Why?

Then Stella’s fingers wrapped around my other hand, a painless bolt of… something shot down my arm, making me gasp. Across from me, I heard Deacon’s half whispered, “Oh, fuck.” Beside me, Stella made a high, soft sighing sound and started to speak, in that same language I couldn’t understand.

However long this went on, I couldn’t tell you. It was too hot in the apartment, the air thick with some odd incense that set my teeth on edge, and as it continued, I felt more and more tried, my stomach heaving, my muscles aching.

And as suddenly as all those things had started, they stopped. Nanette and Stella let go at the exact same time, and it was like being doused with ice water. I groaned, half pain half relief, and opened my eyes.

Lonnie was… gone.

I looked around. Stella was holding her head in her hands, hunched over, and Nanette stumbled to her feet and ran for the bathroom, her hand over her mouth. Deacon was staring at me, pale faced and wide eyed.

“Where is he?” I snapped at Stella, who lifted her tear streaked face to look at me. “Where the fuck did he go?”

“I…” Stella licked her lips. “I don’t know.” she whispered. She dry heaved suddenly, hunching over again.

I glared at Deacon. “Where the fuck did he go?” I snarled.

“Hey, I’m not the witch around here.” he said. “Why aren’t you sick?”

“What?” I shrugged. “Who cares? Lonnie-”

“Oh my God.” Stella whimpered. She looked at Deacon. “What the hell did I do?”

“Stella, just-”

And then whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by an earsplitting crack that shook the entire apartment. Stella screamed, flinching back, and something went slamming into the coffee table, breaking it into pieces and making the floor shudder.

Lonnie moaned loudly. “Ow.” he said, quite calmly, and rubbed the back of his blond head with one long fingered hand. He struggled up onto his hands and knees in the mess of wood that had been my coffee table and looked around with dark, brownish green eyes. “What the hell.” he said.

Stella burst out laughing and crying at the same time, and put her face in her hands. Deacon just stared, looking startled and amused.

Me? I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. I was uncomfortably aware of the amount of naked people in my living room, and the sight of Lonnie as a… a real person. “You broke my table.” I said, unthinkingly.

Lonnie arched one eyebrow and sat back on his heels. “Did you get smaller?” he asked me. “You look…” he trailed off, and looked down at himself. For a moment he just sat there, staring at his own very human chest; lightly muscled, tiny pink nipples, the dip of his belly button. “Johnny.” he said. “Johnny, look at me.”

“I see you.” I said, and he looked up to smile at me. I was startled at how… young he was. “No tail, kitty cat.” I told him, and one of his hands went behind him to the small of his back. Then he started to laugh.

He was still laughing when he caught Stella by the sides of the head and kissed her square on the mouth. She squeaked in surprise and he let her go, then did the exact same thing to Deacon, who took it in stride.

We helped him to his feet; he hadn’t walked on two legs in so long that for a moment he had no idea what the hell to do. When he was standing, he hugged me. It was a little awkward, I’ll admit; he was about chin height on me, and naked as hell. So was I.

“Thank you.” he whispered against my neck, and it wasn’t so uncomfortable. “Johnny, I-”

My front door opened, and my stomach dropped. Very slowly I turned, already knowing, not wanting to know, to and looked at Murphy, who was standing in the door way, a cellophane wrapped plate in one hand. What I saw startled the hell out of me. He didn’t look upset, or confused, or shocked.

He looked furious.

“Murphy-” I started, and his eyes flickered to me. I shut up quickly. He was so angry, I could practically feel it. He tilted his hand, the plate sliding off of his fingers. It hit the floor and shattered, spraying pieces of ceramic and cupcakes everywhere. Then he slammed my front door.

“Fuck.” I whispered. Lonnie still has his arms around me, and I gently let him go. I dressed, feeling sick to my stomach, and a moment later everyone else did the same. Lonnie padded into the bedroom to find something in my clothes that he could wear, and Stella took Nanette’s clothes to her in the bathroom.

I watched Deacon begin to clean up the coffee table mess when he was finished dressing. Lonnie came out, in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, both of which were comically big on him. He helped Deacon, and when the pieces were all gone, Lonnie cleaned up the plate and cupcakes too. No one spoke at all, and as Lonnie was wiping frosting off of the tiles, Stella and Nanette left.

Me? I just stood there. I did nothing. I could think of nothing to do. I was so torn, so full of conflicting emotions, and I had no idea where to start.

Luckily for me, that choice was made for me.

Deacon followed Lonnie into the kitchen, and I could hear them talking quietly. I heard the water run, and a bit later Deacon came back out, took me by the arm, and lead me into the bedroom. I went along, feeling sluggish and disconnected. Lonnie followed, and they deposited me on the bed, then each sat on one side and looked at me. No one said anything for a while, so I gave in to what my body wanted to do and laid down, hands behind my head, and closed my eyes.

“Everything will work out.” Lonnie said, and I noted how hoarse his voice was, how different it was than his cat voice. “I’m so sorry I got you into all of this.”

“Me too.” Deacon said, and he sighed. “Can we get you anything?”

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. “I just want to sleep.” I said finally. “Just… sleeping sounds nice.”

“Okay.” Lonnie said quietly, and I felt his warm, unnaturally smooth fingers brush through my hair. “We’ll go-”

“Don’t.” I said, unsure of why, and opened my eyes. I was facing Deacon. He was watching me, face unreadable. “Stay. Both of you.” Deacon looked away. “Please?”

I felt Lonnie lay down beside me, and a moment later Deacon mimicked him. Lonnie arm’s was around my waist, and I could feel his breath against my neck. Deacon managed to not touch me at all, but he was still watching me.

“Deacon.” I said his name, and he looked away, rolled onto his back. I put my arm over his hips and closed my eyes. It was comforting, somehow, and not nearly as weird as I thought it would be when I suggested it without thinking.

I fell asleep that way, and when I woke up, Lonnie was gone. Deacon was awake, his hand running through my hair almost absently, and when I lifted my head I saw his free hand was propping a book up on his chest. I saw it was the paperback I get in my bedside table. He lowered it and regarded me with those painfully blue eyes.

“Where’s the cat?” I asked.

“He took a walk.” Deacon said, and I watched him put the book down on the side table.

“You’re still here.” I said.

He gestured. “You wouldn’t let me get up.” he said, and I looked away, flushing a little. “It’s okay. You needed it.” his hand was in my hair again. “It’s been rough lately. I get it.”

“Thanks.” I said quietly, liking the feel of his hand. I yawned. “You can go, if you want.” I said, and slid away. It was colder in the room than when I’d fallen asleep, and all I wanted was to get comfortable, get under the covers, and go back to sleep.

“Would you rather I stayed?” he asked.

The answer was yes, but I wasn’t going to admit that. I shrugged. “It’s up to you.” I said vaguely. I got up and went into the bathroom. A glance at the clock in the hallway told me it was late, almost midnight. I brushed my teeth and changed into my sleeping clothes; a pair of soft cloth pants and a black tank top. When I went back into my room, Deacon was laying down, under the covers. I hesitated before crawling into bed. He’d made himself comfortable; his jeans were off, leaving him in black boxers. It was weird, but when I laid down, my back to him, he rolled over and pulled me against his chest, and all the weirdness went away. He was smaller than me, but somehow it was comforting to have him there, so I closed my eyes and stopped thinking about it.

I slept again, and when I woke up once more it was morning and the bed was empty, and there were voices in the living room. I laid in bed, smelling Deacon on my sheets, and listened.

Lonnie and Deacon were talking, and after a moment, I could make out their words.

“…until he’s ready to.” Deacon said. “Don’t push it.”

“It needs to be pushed.” Lonnie told him. “If you’d just stop and actually think about it, you’d see that.”

“He needs to learn to slip before he even thinks about-”

“He didn’t know before.” Lonnie said.

“Maybe that’s why you’re fucking it up.” Deacon said, and Lonnie made a rude sound. “How many times has he done this? There’s something different about him, I feel it. He needs to learn first, and if you want my help, this is how it’s going to be.”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation here.”

“No, I don’t.” there was a clattering sound, like someone dumping dishes into the sink. “Nothing in inherently evil, Lonnie. Perhaps you’re wrong. You’ve been wrong before.”

“I told you, that one time. So what? Jay told me it’s been happening long before I came along. How many times, Deacon? This is seven, and it’s six too many. You really think-”

“I think assuming someone’s bad enough to warrant killing him without even thinking twice is a little fucked up.” Deacon said.

Lonnie sighed. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Maybe I do. What does it matter? If you want to go devil hunting, and you want my help, you just have to wait until Johnny learns. That’s the stipulation. Take it or leave it.”

“And while you teach him, I look for him.”

“Yes.” Deacon was quiet for a moment. “But I need proof that it’s not just some guy. I need proof that he’d a bad person before I start killing people.” he sighed. “Killing for the greater good has never gotten me anything but trouble.”

“You’ve killed before.”

“Hundreds.” Deacon said, as though it didn’t matter, as though the they were talking about the weather. “All for the greater good, all for the cause. I came here to get away from that.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lonnie said. “We’re at war-”

“This is not a war.” Deacon told him, sounding flat. “Just wait. Perhaps you’ll live to see what war really looks like.”

I got out of bed, loudly, shutting doors as hard as I could without slamming them. Somehow, even though they were talking about me, planning things for me, I felt bad for eavesdropping. I heard them mutter to each other, and when I went out in the kitchen, Lonnie was at the table, smiling at me, and Deacon was at the sink, busying himself with dishes.

“Morning, Johnny.” Lonnie greeted, and held out a mug. “Coffee?”