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h-cat, hidden-longings

hidden_longings in mafiabanter

Survival of the Fittest (Darwin's Theory Damn Well Applies to Camping)

Title: Survival of the Fittest (Darwin’s Theory Damn Well Applies to Camping)

Rating: R

Story Warnings: Bad language, Juvenile humor, Plot? What plot?, Crack

Relationships: Harry Dresden/John Marcone,

Characters: Harry Dresden, John Marcone, Bob Luccio, Hendricks

Summary: AKA Alternate Titles: ‘Harry may not know what the hell he's doing in 'nature' but if he has to burn the entire forest to the ground he absolutely refuses to let a mosquito bite him.’ ‘Bob likes killing things.’ ‘For once Hendrick’s and John are innocent bystanders.’ Oh and ‘If Harry does get bitten he’s going to blame Hendricks. Then kill him. Well maybe not, John wouldn’t approve.’

A/N So I fully admit to stealing two particularly epic pieces of dialogue for this short piece. One from the 90's television show 'Highlander' which I adore with all of my nerdy little heart, and one from a story that my Dad told me about a friend of his. This is a bit of a departure from the series, but I still consider it my personal canon so you'll just have to go with the flow. Hope everyone enjoys :)

Oh as a little treat, the first person that can tell me the facts about the Highlander quote, i.e. What is it? Who said it? What episode it was from? I'll write them a one to two page scene about anything that they'd like to see in this Universe. Just for kicks. Though if I'm already planning on writing the scene I might just make it a full fledged chapter. We'll have to see.



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Harry had a hard time restraining the sneer that wanted to overtake his face as he fastidiously sidestepped a particularly soggy patch of ground.

"I think this is a terrible idea."

"So you've said. Repeatedly." John, goddamn him, sounded more amused than sympathetic.

Harry swatted frantically as he heard something buzz past his ear with a threatening whir.

"What the hell was that?"

Bob let loose a belly laugh as he saw his usually unflappable Boss, flap. Vigorously.

"What's the matter Harry? Not a big fan of nature?"

"I like nature in small doses, you know like shrubs, in pots."

Their impromptu sojourn in the small wooded area had been something that Hendricks' had bullied the Shadow Kings of Chicago into participating in. Harry was still fuming about the whole thing. John had thought it was a marvelous idea right up until Hendricks had none too gently pried his cellphone out of his grasp.

John at least owned a pair of sneakers, Harry hated to think what the muddy ground was doing to his Italian loafers.

The hiking trail they were trudging along was fairly well maintained, though whether it was kept clear by human hand’s or deer heading to water was a toss up.

Harry let himself lean into the weight of his heavy pack as he continued to mentally grumble and plot. Maybe if he convinced Toot to come out here he could fabricate some kind of emergency.

The sun was close to setting when the cabin finally came into sight. Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to bolt towards the nearest sign of human civilization or cringe at the state of the little shack that they were going to be living out of for at least a week.

"Well," mused Bob, his broad smile looking out of place on his pixie face. "At least we won't have to worry about blowing any fuses while we're here."

"Oh I don't know," gritted Harry. "I'm pretty close to blowing one right now. Where the hell's the bathroom."

"There's an outhouse behind that stand of trees over there." Hendricks waved his hand in the general direction lazily. His face already losing some of the stress lines that were etched into his face,

"An outhouse? Right. Of course. If you'll excuse me."

Harry dumped the large bag he had been carrying inside the door of the cabin without looking inside before taking off towards the stand of trees with a stiff gate.

"I can't tell," asked Hendricks in a low voice. "Is that the stick up his ass or does he just really need to go."

"Probably both." Bob smiled and bounced on the balls of his feet drawing both remaining mens attention to the slow jiggle of his chest. John turned politely away after a moment, but Hendricks just eyed Bob with predatory intent.

John was really REALLY not going to ask.

Ever.



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When Harry stalked back into the two room cabin he had finally unbent enough to have his duster folded over a forearm.

John smiled up at him from the couch that he was sprawled across. The easy relaxation, and the lack of stress lines around his lover’s eyes was more than enough for Dresden to finally give up his bad mood.

Right up until he heard an ominous buzz. Whatever it was zipped past him too quickly for him to identify what exactly was stalking him.

Lifting up John’s feet, Harry sank into the comfortable couch and pulled his lover’s bare feet into his lap. Stroking them with enough force to keep from tickling. If he had to be in this hellhole at least he had John with him.

The cabin appeared to be relatively clean, only a light coating of dust had been left behind because of its inoccupation. Hendrick’s was wiping down a couple of shelves, well boards that had been balanced over long nails, before he put away the small supply of food he had carried with him.

Harry had to restrain a sneer as he caught sight of the canned slop, before he turned away to look at the rest of the room. He was very quickly distracted.

“Bob?”

All he could see of his oldest friend was a pair of slender legs and the bottom of an upside down rear end.

“Yeah Boss?”

“What are you doing precisely?”

“I’m having a staring contest.”

“With what?”

A warning rattle, proclaimed Bob’s response before he could.

“Looks like a rattlesnake to me, but I could be wrong.”

Hendrick’s very gently placed a can of baked beans on the shelf before he turned towards the couch that Bob was leaning over and slid as silently and as quickly as he could.

When he was finally within range, Hendrick’ stretched out one of his long arms and picked Bob up by the belt that was looped through his jeans.

“Aw come on Nathan, I was winning.”

Hendrick’s rolled his eyes even as he turned and tossed Bob onto a nearby recliner, which let loose a puff of dust but otherwise held strong.

“Stay put. I’ll go get a bucket or something to get rid of it.”



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The next morning, Harry had refused to move from the comfortable bed the small bedroom contained. Dark eyes glared unflinchingly at John for several moments as the older man pulled himself out of his lovers grasping arms just as the sun began to rise.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“Fishing. Would you like to join us?”

Harry didn’t bother replying, instead he pulled a small portion of the quilt underneath him and rolled until he was cocooned tightly. His head resting on John’s recently vacated pillow.

“Very well. Have a good lie in Harry.”

“Hmph!”

When John stepped out into the living room both of his eyebrows rose as he saw the two lumps that were wound around each other.

Definitely top ten in the strangest things he’d ever seen. Which was saying something, really.

“Hendricks!”



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Harry felt it the moment the insect landed on his nose.

His eyes snapped open and crossed as he focused on the offending six legged pest.

The mosquito was thoroughly unimpressed by the death glare that was currently being leveled at it. She never saw the hand coming.

Nose stinging and red, Harry went back to sleep, triumphant nonetheless.



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John's sharp eyes caught sight of the plume of dust that was being thrown up on the gravel road first. His intent gaze brought Hendricks head around sharply and they watched silently as Bob came roaring up the small road on the four wheeler.

He flung himself off of the small vehicle, the tip of his nose turning bright red and his mouth gaping open in a wide smile as he panted with excitement. The small rifle was strapped to the back of the four wheeler but it was nearly covered in a small pile of feathers.

A pile of feathers that resolved itself into a very dead pheasant as Bob held it aloft in triumph.

"My God! There's something primeval about this!"

With that Bob flung the pheasant back onto the back of the four wheeler. He trotted back and, straddling the seat, flung the four wheeler around in a sharp 180. Tearing back onto the gravel road.

Watching the retreating trail of white dust with an amused smile, Hendricks' said "I guess he's not going fishing with us."

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