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Gorgeous establishment. Blinking with jeweled bodies and shiny chandeliers. Fifty-feet underground and the club doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘extravagant.’
It’s Yuuichirou’s first time here, but Mikaela is a regular, and is cordially greeted by guests at every turn as soon as they enter the establishment. Yuuichirou's name is called as well, and he tips his head in response, used to the attention.
Black jacket tossed over arm, Yuuichirou feels significantly underdressed in work clothes, but he’s not gonna feel too self-conscious about it when Mikaela is mirroring his exact look here.
If Guren can’t convince Yuu to iron his tie and comb back his hair for a 10 am meeting (“Like you? Like a nerd?” “Like you care and actually give a damn.” “Pssh. Pass. Nerd.”), Yuu sure as hell wasn’t going to doll himself up and dress to the nines just for a 2am lunch.
Yuuichirou vaguely traces the threads of conversation between Mikaela and the warm host in front of him. Doesn’t have to wait long for the conversation to steer towards the inevitable whenever they’re together: “...It’s always lovely to see couples like yourselves.”
“We’re friends,” Mikaela supplies harmlessly to the host, unhurriedly signing his name on the offered roster. Cursive loopy squiggles. A long tail for the final ‘a.’ Overly eloquent, like he was signing off for one of his official documents.
Yuuichirou confirms with a nod and, with every good intention in the world, sputters out unhelpfully, “And, like. Just friends, you know. Nothingーnot the benefits... thingー”
“And even if that were the case,” Mikaela gives a playful side-glance in Yuuichirou’s direction, because fuel for the fire is exactly what this inconvenient misunderstanding needs, “it would be none of the gentleman’s business, miliy moy.”
A slow grin spreads on Mikaela’s lips. Yuu coughs to hide his amused snort.
The host thinks these two are, if not married, if not dating, then definitely doing the “benefits... thing.” But he’s not here to think, but to be all patient smiles for a meager paycheck. So, he guides them to their seats with little else than a patient smile.
Yuuichirou takes a sweeping look at the glowing crowd along the way. Human and vampire guests hang off each other’s arms in sparkling dresses and ties. Nudging elbows and bumping glasses. Freely strike up conversation that dissolves into bubbling laughter and...
And, hell, Yuuichirou laughs with them. Because no matter how many years go by, this still, still feels so fairytale.
The waiter arrives promptly once they are seated, and Yuuichirou risks social judgment and settles for bread rolls and water. The free stuff. Also, it’s 2am. He slides the “Solids” food menu to his right in dismissal.
Mika orders “the usual.”
A comfortable silence settles between them, then:
“Hey, you.” Yuuichirou leans forward on an open palm, lips quirked mischievously. “Come here often?”
“Yuu,” Mikaela looks disinterested in an exchange, but the flatness of his stare doesn’t reach his quirked lips, “my thoughts go out to the woman you managed to scare away with that horrible pick-up line.”
“And you can do better?” Yuu scrunches his nose, sticks out his tongue like the grown, twenty-three-year-old child he is. “Get outta here.” After second thought, he points an accusatory finger. “Using that glowy-eyed hypnosis shit doesn’t count, okay?”
“Oh, get over it.” The waiter returns with the usual: a wine glass filled to the rim with red liquidーblood, of courseーand a stirrer. The stirrer, Yuu has no idea what the deal is with that, but Mikaela plucks his drink and small straw from the tray with a self-satisfied smile. “It was one time.”
Yuu’s not listening anymore, instead eyeing the cheap synthetic animal blood-crap his vampire friend eagerly tosses back. Mika looks like knows exactly what’s going through that head and challenges Yuu to say something about it with a sharp stare above the glass rim.
Yuu only scoffs; a woven basket and glass of water slides by his elbow, and he begins to tear apart a roll of bread piece by piece, the carnage collecting in a small pile. Something to busy himself with.
He’s not about to start up that conversation again. Glowy-eyes or no, Mika can be stupid persuasive and about as petty as Yuu about the smallest things, like taking blood from your best friend by the neck. No big deal.
Regardless, overall this is... nice. A quick break between business for Mikaela; a very early morning respite for Yuu after another fifteen-hour work shift. Even if he’s back at it again in several hours, Yuu couldn’t bring himself to reject Mikaela’s offer for lunch/a midnight snack. Apparently, he also has a new heirloom to show off, courtesy of Krul.
So they laugh.
They catch up.
Mikaela asks about Shinoa, Mitsuba, Kimizuki, and Yoichi.
They’re fine. Suffering from paperwork, like always, but fine.
And Akane and the kids? (Asked in a more tender tone.)
Yuu says it’s late, the kids and Akane have classes in the morning, so should be in bed. Big brother’s orders. (They both know better.)
Then, for formality’s sake, Mikaela asks if Guren Ichinose is dead yet.
Yuuichirou doesn’t smile; grimaces like he’s just heard a horrible joke. Or a horrible pick-up line.
Mikaela dodges a piece of bread roll thrown his way, only just missing his nose. Blame the blood.
“Kidding,” the vampire exhales airily, straightening his back some. “I didn’t mean it literally, you know. Well, no, I did mean it, butー”
“Mika,” Yuuichirou interrupts thickly, “Guren’s not dead.”
“Oh.”
Placidly, Mikaela stirs the glass by its stem, stabs the stirrer into the drink, and proceeds to blow bubbles of blood through the straw’s hole. The expertise in which Mika narrowly avoids a mess of animal blood gurgling past the rim and onto the white table cloth tells Yuu this happens often.
Mikaela notices Yuu’s unimpressed look and coolly looks up without taking his lips off the stirrer.
“Try and stop me.”
Yuuichirou doesn’t even know, and doesn’t even try. Just rolls his eyes, then asks about the other side of town, below ground. How’re things going at the embassy? Everything at work good? How’s work today?
Mikaela runs a stressful hand through his dirty blond curls, then guides the stirrer out of the way with his tongue and sips again, sloppily and this time with frustration to color the gesture.
Yuu sympathizes. Raises a piece of bread in somber solidarity to that.
Fantasizing about vampires and humans coexisting in harmony is nice and peachy poetic when you wish upon a star as a child. No one said anything about the paperwork. Towers of reports. Meetings. Ass-kissing and ass-talking and after all this, when Yuuichirou returns to his studio after his too-damn-long work shifts, he collapses face-first on his bed and wonders if it’s all worth it.
It is.
Sitting across from Mikaela like this, without malicious judgment and harassment, is worth it.
What few whispers from guests Yuuichirou can discern are harmless and gossip that Yuu doesn’t have the energy to clear up. Ignoring the celebrity-level notice has honestly become a permanent fact of his life since ascending the diplomatic ranks, especially whenever he’s with Mikaela. He’s not a fan of the attention; Mika didn’t seem to care less. Balancing a demolished piece of bread roll between his teeth, Yuu lets the crust melt against his tongue as he hums out a tune. Mikaela quietly savors his third drink.
Let the guests think whatever. He doesn’t need to hang off Mika’s arm. What they have is great, just as is. This is fine...
Except when Mikaela picks up blood glass #6 only one hour into the evening, with a dramatically composed posture that conceals his blood-drunken stupor to no one. Yuu notes the obvious red flag: There’s color restored to Mikaela’s face. Red eyes shine brilliantly.
“Ah, ah. Don’t touch. Mine.” Mikaela slurs, slapping Yuu’s hand away from the blood glass. He grins crookedly at Yuu’s wounded whine.
“C’mon, Mika. You’reーyou’ve had enough.”
“Well said. Ask me if I give a damn.”
To emphasize, Mikaela takes a messy sip. He tips it back, deep. Yuu follows his bobbing Adam’s apple, then flicks his gaze back in time to catch Mikaela kiss the glass. Red, hooded eyes dance with intoxication and something sinister.
Yuu swallows, allowing that mildly suggestive image to filter away from his mind, then purses his lips.
“Fine. Get plastered, you old fart. Don’t you have something to show me?” Yuu presses, hoping this will distract Mika from the blood. To his relief, it does.
Mikaela looks scandalized at the insult against his age, ready to defend his youthful, century-old existence. But he pushes his hurt pride aside at the last suggestion. For the first time that night, his thumb and index finger slide off the wine glass’s stem.
Mikaela bites his cheek like a child, brows drawing together in clear disinterest. Krul’s ring was given to him in private only two days ago. He had been hesitant to accept it then, and it still took every ounce of his being to not chuck the jewelry clear across the room. Instead, he slips a ruby ring from his right index finger by slow degrees to mask the concentration power it’s taking him with 6 glasses in his system.
Even if Mikaela is still hesitant to completely integrate vampire custom and ceremony into his life, Yuuichirou knows the meaning behind this ring. Heirloom giving is the unofficial equivalent of saying, ‘You’re the boss now. Go, my pretty. Run the world. Make me smile.’
Yuu’s happy for him.
Elbows shamelessly balanced on the table, Yuu cranes his neck and leans across the table for a better look, like a child. Who does he have to impress in this establishment? No one. Just a minute ago Mikaela was blowing bubbles into his drink and Yuu had thrown a piece of bread at the vampire’s face. They’re both having fun here.
Mikaela’s gaze momentarily turns pensive, as if in thought, then melts to amusement, Yuu pauses and perks a curious, cautious brow.
Mikaela falls to one knee, because why the hell not. He’s drunk. Yuuichirou’s exhausted. They’re both having fun here.
An indecipherable look briefly flashes across Yuuichirou’s face, a crease between his brows.
Yuu dissolves into laughter first. Mikaela joins him. Both on the same page.
Ha, ha. Funny joke. Now pick your drunk ass from the floor beforeー
The restaurant erupts into a roar.
The eyes of patrons, human and vampire alike, were now on them, shining and wooing, congratulatory applause.
Yuu registers a look of horror slowly morphing on Mika’s face. Concern creeps in his own gut, but he doesn’t understand entirely.
A few vampires give Mikaela a thumb’s up, phones in the other hand. Then, Yuuichirou just... looks at them, both. Mikaela frozen on one knee, ring in hand.
Oh, wait.
Oh, no.
Oh, shit.
Say something you idiot, Yuu wants to scream at Mikaela, because if there’s any better time to work that tongue used to tease, negotiate, and just get the damn thing done, now was the time.
Then again.
’This is a misunderstanding! I’m drunk!’ sounds like a terribly enticing front page news story, and Yuu sees that front news story travel.
First to Sayuri's desk, the up to Shinya’s desk, then Guren’s, and... Kureto's.
Guaranteed fastest way to lose a job in two sentences.
The host from the front breezed around them. All patient smiles.
Mika’s phone chirps with a lateー1990s teen pop song that Yuu is sure he and Kimizuki demanded the vampire change weeks ago it’s 2020 goddamn itー
“ーdets.”
Completely drained of color, with barely any movement from his lips, the vampire growls, again, in his native tongue.
“Oh, pizdets.”