tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; July 26th
Rating; PG? Just to be safe? >.>
Characters; Walter Dornez

dark_butler and Tony Foster

darkest0knight
Summary; Tony and Walter have a contest of wills.
Log;

It wasn't until he'd stepped out onto the street, sneakers pointed towards his meeting with Walter, that Tony realized he had probably made a mistake in agreeing to the contest. He remembered the Shadowlord's possession of him, and the way Henry's simple, snarled declaration of ownership tore him free of it, as if his body recognized and accepted the call of its master. He remembered the Notice-Me-Not spell and how it only took his name on Henry's lips to reveal him, expose him fully to the vampire's sight.

Maybe things worked differently for vampires from other worlds, but Tony hadn't had much success at resisting demons (unless you considered Leah, which really didn't count because she was only a handmaiden to a sex demon and she had girly bits he definitely wasn't interested in).

But he wasn't going to take back the agreement. Walter had looked relaxed and amused when he made it, and after putting his foot in it by bringing up ghosts of the other man's past, Tony figured the least he could do was try to cheer him up.

'Besides which,' he thought, 'I might stand a chance.'

Afterall, Walter did not have the added bond of actually feeding off his blood like Henry did. And his focus had been a lot better lately.

Spotting the older man up ahead, Tony shoved aside his nervousness and concentrated on giving a cocky grin. What Walter had said was true: no point going into a fight when you don't think you're going to win.

"Hey," he said, raising a hand in greeting. "Ready to lose?"

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There was a moment of panic, where Tony's instincts screamed danger at him, and he felt his pulse thudding in his head like a drum.

It was confusing. He's stood up to do something, hadn't he? He was going to get Walter his tea-

No.

Tea, because Walter wanted it and it was all right. Everything was fine.

Not fine!

There was no reason he shouldn't go get the tea. Not one he could remember anyway. He needed to do it. He would feel so much better if he just did what his mind and body were telling him to do.

Slowly, Tony's fingers released the table and he turned in the direction of the counter. One step. Two steps.

Almost. Walter stayed motionless as only a vampire could, watching every move Tony made.

This tactic was working. Imposing the normalcy of the situation on top of the compulsion seemed to have gotten through to Tony.

Tony would bring Walter his tea. All he had to do was ask for it, take it from the counter person and then come back to the table. They would sit and talk and share stories of their lives and interests, doing the normal things that friends do when they are out together. Everything was fine. So normal. No problem at all.

Tony arrived at the counter. The heavily pierced and tattooed man behind it looked at him expectantly, one eyebrow raising at Tony's slow and stiff movements.

Tony watched the studs lining that eyebrow lift and the phrase midnight toaster orgy flashed through his mind. It was so random and odd a thought that the words to order the tea stuttered and stalled on his lips.

He hesitated, glancing tentatively back at the table where Walter still sat.

Walter tipped his head at Tony, looking expectant. What was the problem with the tea? his expression asked. It was just a cup of tea, not a triple doppio extra half caf double shot mochaccino after all.

Just a cup of tea. Everything would be fine once those words left his mouth. Everything already was fine. Things would just be finer.

Just a cup of tea. He could say that. Walter was waiting for him to come back, so why was he hesitating? Why that niggling, nagging sensation that something was off about all this?

What was the big deal? It was-

"Just a cup of tea," he said to the guy behind the counter. And relief as another delicate china cup was pressed into his hands.

Approval, warm and soothing. Yes, it was just a cup of tea and Tony could bring that cup to Walter and they could continue their talk.

Approval. That, more than anything, resolved the conflict in Tony's mind. He'd craved that kind of gentle regard for a long time, especially as it had been so rarely obtained in his childhood.

Quietly obedient now, Tony turned and walked back to the table, the cup of darjeeling held out in front of him with all the reverence of a sacred offering.

Walter held out his hand to take the tea, waiting until after he had it safely secured before releasing his hold on the young wizard.

They should practice more. He wanted to see Tony better protected than that. Walter was no Divia or Lacroix after all.

His expression was not that of someone who had won without concern for the results. He was far too somber for that.

Shaking his head clear, Tony saw the cup grasped in Walter's fingers and frowned.

"Shit," he muttered. He hadn't been able to resist after all.

And all because of some stupid, childish urge for someone to pat him on the head and say he'd done well.

He sulkily crossed his arms over his chest and slumped down in his seat.

"You can start gloating now, I guess."

Walter shook his head and set the tea down.

"I find that I don't particularly feel like gloating."

He would have enjoyed this under most circumstances. He likely would have felt like gloating with many other people, but for several reasons he did not with Tony.

He liked Tony. The young man reminded him of himself when he had been young and cocky and isolated from much of what was supposed to be "normal" life.

"I want you to learn how to resist me better. Not just me, but anyone who tries to control you that way."

That only made Tony frown harder.

"You don't have to look so concerned," he said. "I can take care of myself just fine. And it's not like I have throngs of people insidiously trying to force me to get them drinks."

"I'm not the most powerful vampire in this city," Walter said, cradling the fresh cup of tea between his cupped hands. "And if you're going to be my friend, I would like to see you better protected against those who are more powerful than I am."

Maybe this was a bad idea. Being friends with a human. What was he thinking exposing this young man to his enemies through association?

No... that was foolish. Tony was already too far gone in his own world for Walter to think to protect him from himself here.

"I'm certain you can take care of yourself. You're still alive to prove it, but it wouldn't hurt to learn from someone who knows vampire tricks from the other side."

"You and Henry worry too much," Tony murmured, a bit resentful at the implication that he needed protection.

He was sure that he would have been able to resist Walter's compulsion if he had been trying to get Tony to do something he wouldn't normally do anyway. It wasn't that big a deal.

Still, if Walter needed to make sure...

"I suppose I could practice my resistance more. But you've got to promise that it won't just be training every single time I talk to you. I want a friend, not just a teacher."

"I promise," Walter said, mollified by Tony's agreement. He leaned back in the chair and cracked a smile. "At least I won't have to tolerate your gloating at me for the next few days."

"Jerk," Tony said, grinning a bit.

"You're just lucky I didn't have to pay any money for that extra tea you're not even going to drink."

"But I do enjoy it nonetheless," Walter demurred, turning the cup in his hands and letting the heat seep into his skin.

"And I would have paid for it if money mattered. I'm an old-fashioned gentleman." His lips quirked from a smile to a smirk. "Or at least I put on the appearance of one exceedingly well."

"Yeah, sure."

Tony rolled his eyes, the expression on his face pure teenaged exasperation, even if he was a few years older than that now.

"So," he said, unfolding his arms and placing an elbow on the table instead, propping up his cheek with one hand, "I promised you the answer to a question if you won. What do you want to know?"

Walter raised his cup to breathe in the steam for a moment while he considered what question to ask. There honestly weren't any pressing questions that he had about Tony that the young many hadn't answered for him, and those he hadn't answered were matters of privacy that Walter didn't want to violate.

He decided on a question that would reveal quite a lot about Tony regardless of how he chose to answer it. "One question. Alright. And you owe me an honest answer to this, not the answer people give in their job interviews."

He set the cup down again and leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers laced together. "What is your greatest weakness?"

"Uh?" Surprised, Tony drew back a bit. His greatest weakness? What kind of a question was that to ask?

He had to think about it too.

"I guess I can be kind of reckless sometimes. I take risks when I don't have to, mostly to avoid having to ask for help, or when it appeals to my ego. Letting Henry take my blood without knowing what the hell I was getting into, just because I was feeling smug about Vicki trusting me...so many things could have happened."

He sighed and absently rubbed a thumb against the little criss-cross pattern of scars that still marked his hand from when he'd stupidly and impulsively tried the Come-to-Me spell on a beer bottle during the early days when he still hadn't mastered his focus. That hadn't been his brightest moment either.

"Still," he continued, "I'm not dead yet, so a little confidence can't be that bad for me."

Damn. How did Tony manage to keep reminding Walter of himself as a youth?

He took in the thoughtless rubbing and Tony's expression and shook his head, whether at his companion or at himself was not certain.

"You're talking to someone who jumped out of a plane behind enemy lines in Poland with a torpid vampire in a coffin and no parachute. I'm not sure I can throw stones at recklessness."

Tony looked up with a grin at that.

"Walter," he said, his tone conveying a kind of baffled amusement, "that ain't recklessness; that's just damned nuts."

"The jumping was fine. You'd be surprised what I can achieve with these," Walter said, letting fine threads drop from the rings he wore.

"I think the current slang is 'I had my ass handed to me' by a werewolf, but that had nothing to do with the actual jump."

That had been the beginning of half a century of lies, but the jump had been exhilarating.

Tony observed the threads with interest. He didn't really see how they could save you from dropping out of a plane without a parachute, but he wasn't going to pester Walter with questions about it.

Some obnoxious little part of his brain was chanting the Spider Man theme song, and he squashed that thought before he it could prompt a fit of disrespectful snickering.

"You wouldn't catch me jumping out of a plane," he declared, "parachute included or not."

He had disliked heights ever since falling out of that damned window.

"Oh, it's great fun." Walter's eyes gleamed as he spoke of it. "I've always enjoyed such things.

"The thrill of wind rushing past, the free fall and the way you can direct your fall and its speed, that feeling of weightlessness." He was clearly reliving past experiences and just as clearly had enjoyed them thoroughly.

What was a bit more perplexing, perhaps, was the way lines seemed to be smoothing out of his face as though the years were just dropping away.

Possibly that could be explained by appearance and enthusiasm, but there was no way those things could apply to the length of his hair or his diminishing height.

It didn't take long for the man apparently in his late 30s to be replaced by someone who appeared to be in his mid-teens.

So far, Walter didn't seem to have noticed.

Tony's eyes widened as he watched the change.

He glanced suspiciously at his empty coffee cup, but quickly dismissed the idea that he was suddenly hallucinating a younger Walter.

Wizards see what's there, he reminded himself, taking a settling breath.

"Um, Walter? You've kind of shrunk."

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