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A Pucked-Up Situation	By : ChysLattes Category: G through L > Leandros Brothers Series Views: 1563 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't make money off this & I do not own the Leandros Brothers Fandom (I only own specific jokes within this story as well as my OCs Jazel & Piper)

Chapter List
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After scraping the paranormal 'Roadkill' off their tires and heading home to their apartments in modern New York, the boys find themselves in another little dilemma. After the traumatic events leading to the potential destruction of the evil 'elf' race (the Auphe) of which Cal is half a member, everyone concerned knows that Cal and his older half-brother Niko have it rough. But rough is an understatement.

-First it's used car sales, now it's identity theft. What more does Goodfellow have to live down, and how will he survive the lover's angst of a jealous Peri? Especially when he didn't do it!

-What's Cal supposed to do when a Puck and a Demon show up wanting his unique body and damaged soul respectively?

-How well will the indestructible Niko fare when facing his secret inner demons when he's alone? He's only human after all...

-And how's a man to mend when a wolf's taken a bite out of his heart?

Title: "A Pucked-Up Situation"

By: Chys Lattes

Rating: 18+

Disclaimer: The OCs Piper and Jazel belong to me. Everything else is Rob Thurman's from the Cal Leandros Series.

Warnings: I don't usually warn for Canon Yaoi or Slash. But it’s in this fanfic so don't let it slap you in the face if that's not your flavor, and I extend this courtesy because most people aren't familiar with this series. Yet. If I get my way that will change. *steeples fingers*

Setting: Story takes place in a modern paranormal setting where the things that go bump in the night happen to live in the supernatural underbelly of New York.

Timeline: After the book 'Roadkill' ends. It doesn’t hurt to read ‘Trick of the Light’ too, but it’s not necessary.

A Pucked-up Situation, Chapter 1:

A lasciviously sly smirk could be seen through the peephole between short cut curtains of curly brown hair. Cal ran a hand through his own messy black shoulder length locks and turned to his older brother Niko, "Just the damn Loman again. At least I think it's him. How can you tell?" He shrugged with his hand on the door knob. He smirked at his nickname for Robin Goodfellow of Shakespearean fame, or as he's known today: Rob Fellows, car salesman extraordinaire. He'd been known as the puck, the pan, and more recently as the guy who talks you past the point of annoying and into the realm of shoot-me-now.

"He's here already? Let Robin in then." the pragmatic older brother Niko responded, his gray eyes never leaving the newspaper he was intently scanning. He didn't seem too concerned, considering the situation they were currently in. Niko seemed more confident lately, though he was preoccupied tonight. The two of them had had a long discussion about this and they were about to have it out with the puck, whether he wanted to or not. Having called him over, they hadn't been waiting long for his arrival. Of course, if he hadn't have shown, Niko would have insisted on driving over there and picking the lock on his door. They'd have kicked it in if they had to, either way would work for them.

'Why am I going to regret this?' Cal wondered as he unlocked the door and stepped back to allow their guest to enter. He slowly eyed the puck up and down for a moment, while Robin crossed his arms and smirked at him. "Dressed for an occasion or are those your new pajamas?" Cal sneered at the silky cloth clinging close to their visitor's tanned skin, most of which was visible in a very long V neck down his chest. Cal was willing to bet the tan was a full-bodied one. The no doubt expensive-as-sin designer pants and shoes complimented the emerald cloth in a darker shade of forest green. It looked velvety soft.

"It's a new fashion statement. Actually an old one revived. Doubtless you want the details? And do you honestly expect me to leave the home in my nightclothes? I have three wardrobes just for that, four more if you count designer suits for pleasure outings (and I do have many of those!). I never wear the same thing twice actually. Certainly not for a lack of trying, mind you, for some reason I always end up ruining whatever masterpiece I wander in here wearing... but considering how you two get along that's no surprise. Oh, is that a banana in your pocket or are you just appropriately delighted to be in my magnificent presence for once?" Cal could swear the puck had gills for all the breathing he ignored the need to do. How did he get all that out in one breath anyway? He decided he wasn't going to ask. That would qualify well into the realm of too much information, if he knew the kind of response his friend would give.

"That line is older than you are, and never worked. Besides, sorry to disappoint you, Loman, but that's my new gun. And no, you can't hold it, perv." Cal knew he'd have asked, too, by the coveting look on the puck's face.

"That's only nearly as much fun. And I invented that line, by the way."

"Not one of your more successful inventions," Niko surmised, glancing up at the puck momentarily and turning a page of his newspaper. He was sitting comfortably upright in a cushioned recliner, his favorite katana resting, sheathed, across his lap. He wore a woven green turtleneck which was close in color to the clothes Robin was wearing. Lately Goodfellow had been mimicking the colors Niko had been choosing, almost as if he were watching him all the time. To Cal, it was just strange, but it was no secret that Robin had always had his eye on his brother.

"And yet it is enduring, even today." He slanted his eyes and raised a sculpted brow at the blond, "Kind of like most of my… better inventions and… attributes, if you're interested in-"

Niko's severe glance cut him off abruptly, "No."

"-Ah." The puck, temporarily silenced, surveyed the room then dusted off one of the perfectly clean looking couch cushions. (Cal damn-well knew it was perfectly clean because Niko had only just made him vacuum it hours ago, twice, to his interpretation of 'clean', which was really more like sterilized.) He sat down to stare at the blank screen of the powered-off television. He waited, quite patiently for a puck, until Niko decided to look up again. Cal, meanwhile, relocked the door and then disappeared into the bathroom down the hall. The two could hear the water running. When Niko finally folded the paper and let a small sigh pass his lips, Robin blinked innocently across the room at the blond, olive skinned gypsy. If he were informed of the current situation they'd gotten themselves into already, he wasn't giving anything away.

"Per your death threats-" Niko started, his voice thick and heavy.

"All of which are viable." Robin interjected lightly. He stared him down.

Niko continued as if the puck had kept his pretty mouth shut, "There will be none of that in this apartment. Take Cal outside for a run if you want to play 'Cowboy and Samurai'. He needs some practice anyway. Now, the reason we've called you over here-"

"At two in the morning... with no alcohol in sight, no bouncing breasts or pretty male nudes present to comfort me unless Cal's going to pop out here and make a surprise appearance and, I might add, no gods-forsaken reason?" Niko almost smirked at Robin's idea of a cuss word, almost.

"Oh, there's one of those." Niko nodded, caressing the sheath of his sword absentmindedly. He crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair, perfectly relaxed even though an ancient, immortal being sat across from him staring daggers in his direction.

"A nude? Where?" Robin's mobile face slid into curious anticipation as he actually looked around excitedly, sitting up straighter, his short brown curls bouncing on his shoulders. Niko pinched the bridge of his nose and then eyed the puck speculatively. He was a man of infinite patience, he believed. Cal was a thankfully still living testament to that. Goodfellow was pushing it hard, but Niko consoled himself with the fact that's just normal for him and nothing to be surprised about.

"Seriously, someone is trying to impersonate you. Not that that would be too difficult considering the origin of your species." The gypsy waved his hand at the puck, "You all look alike."

"I… am flattered!" the smiling response was not the one Niko was digging for. Of course, he didn't usually have to dig for a response. Most people were happy enough handing one over, silver platter and all.

"There's another puck out there impersonating you. He's been showing up at your workplace, taunting your employees, leaving your name in questionable places, even using your credit card. He came to the bar and caused trouble for Cal and Ishiah. He tossed around death threats like toilet paper on Halloween. I would have thought you'd have heard of this yourself. Where have you been? We asked George if she knew anything and she just hung up the phone on Cal." George, being the local pretty-girl psychic and Cal's ex-could-have-been-girlfriend, was usually the go-to girl for information. She wasn't handing any out lately, refusing to see them or talk to them, and Cal was adamant in his refusal to go to her as well. It was probably better to leave some things buried in the past.

Robin opened his mouth to respond but Cal beat him to it. "They're still plucking the feathers out of between the floor boards at the Ninth Circle and guess who had to mop up the blood when that lunatic Peri went after him? Moi," Cal announced as he headed back into the room to plop gracelessly down on the creaking couch beside Robin. Jostled, Robin leaned back and draped his arm casually across the back of the couch, landing it behind Cal's head. Feeling a hand in his hair, Cal leaned away toward the far wall, eyes narrowed. Goodfellow had been very touchy-feely lately, which was par for the course, but a bit disturbing sometimes. "This guy's almost as nasty as your old evil twin, the Hobgoblin, sans the spanish knives he was always stabbing people with, if the look on Ishiah's face was anything to go by." At the mention of Ishiah, whom was Cal's ex-angel employer, the owner of the Peri bar called the Ninth Circle and Robin's current lover, Robin contemplatively put his hands together in his lap. He listened as Cal continued, "Though come to think of it, he was kind of wimpy in the fighting department. Didn't you say the Hobgoblin was older and stronger, had grown faster? So maybe this is a younger puck." Niko tilted his head in Cal's direction with an affirmative nod, he thoroughly agreed.

"I see. Know his name?" the puck, now morbidly curious, inquired. He always seemed interested when it came to the other tricksters or Pucks of his peculiar type. They all look alike, and he seemed to know all of them personally or to have at least heard of them. If he didn't know them then he wanted to.

"Yeah, Robin freaking Goodfellow. Figure that." Cal picked up the remote and turned on the television to channel surf through basic Cable's minimal late night-to-early morning selection. Per usual, nothing of any interest was running.

Niko tossed the newspaper to Robin with a sweeping arm and lightly glared at his brother, but thoughtfully. "He made the newspaper: 'Local con artist makes off with fundraiser profits.' Apparently the fund was the 'Feed the Robins Project', we found it to be mildly amusing at best."

Niko nodded at the now slightly crumpled paper, which Robin leafed through until he found the appropriate article. He read it for a few minutes, smirking and snorting here and there. "It took in over ten grand in donations." He continued in a dry tone as Robin nodded, pleased.

The puck sighed after he eyed the article, "A trickster from my own heart!" He held his hand up over his chest in a dramatic pose, eyes closed, vulpine face tilted back.

"What, you approve of this bull?" Cal elbowed Robin in the ribs and stopped flipping through the channels when he spied an anime character with large round bouncing breasts. He stared at the screen as if mesmerized. He then quietly complained, "They never really jiggle like that."

Robin observed the screen wistfully, "Yes they do, given incentive. And what do you want me to do? I'd have to catch him in the act. Though I have no idea how he got my credit card. I probably stole it to begin with. I haven't had any fuss over it. A bit irritating to hear someone jacked it, but for now since it's a fellow trickster, no loss." Goodfellow stated matter-of-factually, and then turned back to Cal, "Just how did you know it wasn't me at the bar, Cal?" Robin smirked widely once more, "You couldn't tell me apart from the Hobgoblin before, I know, or you never would have tried to take my head off after he abducted Niko." Yeah, Niko had been abducted by the puck's evil twin. Long story, no point in hashing it out now. Hadn't Cal saved the day? Hadn't everything gone less to hell-in-a-hand-basket and more to the line of 'hey, we survived! Where's my margarita?' Yeah.

"Big hint? 'You' didn't even know my name, or Ish's." Cal muttered. "Though the number of times you've called him a feather brained cockatiel…"

"Well, that's interesting." Robin's smile vanished, melting to be replaced with a feral grimace, "And is it worth pulling me out of my beauty sleep at two in the morning? Which is now dangerously close to three already?"

"Yes, until this is resolved you're not leaving our side. Don't even bother to argue. I will win." Niko deadpanned. He held his sword up for emphasis, as if he needed it. With someone as serious as Niko, and as skilled in the art of ass-kickery, he hardly ever truly needed extra emphasis. It was just icing on the cake.

"Come again? With your mouth this time. Did I just hear you say I'm not leaving?" Robin used a pinkie finger to clean out his ear. He looked at the finger, then back at Niko as if earwax would explain this unique phenomenon.

"Bingo. You win the prize. Now tell him what he's won, Cyrano." Cal, with visions of the persnickety puck having to camp out in their dingy front room vivid in his mind, grinned viciously at Robin's overly dramatic distress, the trickster's mouth gaping and eyes wide. Niko's eyes narrowed at the nickname his brother had labeled him with due to his very Romanesque nose.

Niko's next words wiped the grin off of Cal's already pale face and sent a shiver up Goodfellow's spine, "You get to stay in Cal's bed tonight." Niko's rare little evil smile, an almost imperceptible tightening and raising of the lip, spoke volumes to the only other people in the world who would have ever noticed it. Good thing they were both in the same room as him, as such a few and far between event shouldn't go unnoticed.

Cal dropped the remote between them on the couch, stood like a lightning bolt to tower over the other two occupants of the room and actually stomped his foot. "What the hell!?" His hands balled into fists. Niko just kept barely smiling in his way, the proverbial unmovable object. Robin appeared to be in shock with his back ramrod straight and eyes wide. He had a grip on the paper in his hand which could be heard ripping. Cal couldn't tell if he was breathing. He actually couldn't care. He was more concerned with what the aliens did to his usually more stoic, logical, and strict brother while he was away working at the bird-brain's bar. A pod person does not a good brother make.

"You get the first watch, Cal. After what Robin's evil twin inferred earlier he's coming after you soon, too. He seems to have taken an interest in Cal," Niko explained, not receiving a response at Robin's unconsciously blank look, though it could have just been the shock still setting in, for all Cal knew. "Since he's so intent on using your identity to do it, Goodfellow, you should be happy to help us to put an end to this trivial nonsense." Niko stood, tousled Cal's hair as if he were still a young child, and then headed down the hall toward his bedroom. "Good night." The door clicked shut behind him, echoing in the small room.

Cal's face suddenly flushed red. Robin, bemused, affronted, irritated, and a bit bleary-eyed, shook himself out of his rigid pose and glanced down at the remote. He tossed the shredded newspaper on the coffee table and clicked off the television absentmindedly. He didn't glance at Cal but headed to his room without even a backward look. Cal, defeated, dug the spare pillow and blanket out of the hall closet and chucked them onto the couch in a heap while cussing loudly in Greek, having picked it up from Goodfellow. (The only good thing to come about that was his brother's actual encouragement at his voluntarily lengthening his vocabulary- though not in that particular direction.) He curled up on the couch, propped a foot on the coffee table and stared at the dark screen. Then it hit him. The remote, he realized, had wandered off to bed with a dazed and confused Robin. With the 'jump in bed with me and let's screw like rabbits, I don't care who you are so long as you have a sex-drive,' Robin. The same one that's been relentlessly stalking Niko, and starting on Cal too.

Great. He did not want to deal with the overly rapacious puck alone tonight.

'Just fantastic.'
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A Pucked-Up Situation