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It wasn't hard to guess a vampire's age if you knew what to look for. Those older than a thousand looked like living statues—human-shaped, but visibly inhuman. The ones with a few centuries under their belts looked a bit more earthly, but still moved too fast and too graceful for anything mortal. Before that first century, it was a bit less obvious, but the way their irises turned blood red when agitated was a solid giveaway.
As for this one...
Moving startled and shaky, like someone coming off a bad high or an adrenaline crash. Eyes flickering between bright red and their natural shade—grey? blue? impossible to tell in the dark—with no control. Hand clasped to the side of their neck, covering a dark smear of blood.
When Slav had called in a strange vampire sighting, Shiro had expected to find some out-of-towner—a mature vamp he could assess, explain the rules to, and send on their way. If Shiro had to guess, he'd say this one was hours old at most. A baby.
They were on the bad side of downtown where the property values dropped and vacancies went up, and someone walking around jittery and bloodied well after midnight wasn't out of place. Only about half the streetlights worked, and the vampire avoided the ones that did, so it was hard for Shiro to get a good look. He could only make out larger details: long, unkempt hair, a jacket that must have been two sizes too big, a battered duffle bag...
Shiro didn't see any weapons, but it'd be easy enough for the vamp to conceal one. They wouldn't have much—if anything—in the way of supernatural prowess this soon, but they could still be dangerous. Anyone could be dangerous when scared and backed into a corner.
Still, leaving them alone wasn't an option. If this vampire really was newly-made, Shiro would need to work fast.
The young vamp paused and looked around jerkily, as if sensing they were being followed. In the shadows across the street, Shiro leaned against a wall, trying to look disinterested. Not disinterested enough judging by the way the vampire froze, eyes flickering bright red when they glanced in Shiro's direction.
The vamp ducked into the alley behind a convenience store with bars on its windows, and Shiro suppressed a sigh. An enclosed, poorly-lit area with no witnesses. What could possibly go wrong?
Still, it wasn't like he could stand by and wait for the poor bastard to turn into a ghoul.
Shiro crossed the empty street and entered the alley cautiously. The vamp was waiting in the shadows, duffle bag dropped by their feet to free up both hands. They looked ready for a fight, but there was no sign of a weapon yet.
In spite of the defensive display, Shiro approached, raising his hand in a peaceful greeting. But even this proved too much. The vampire—a boy, Shiro realized as his eyes adjusted to the dark—pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open with a threatening snap.
"Keep walking, old timer."
"Old timer?" Shiro echoed indignantly. The white hair didn't make him look that old, did it? Still, he could forgive the boy his posturing. Even missing an arm Shiro probably outweighed him two-to-one, and his scars did give off a certain impression.
"It's alright," Shiro said, falling back on his terrible sense of humor to defuse the situation. "I'm unarmed."
The boy gaped at him. He stared at Shiro's face, then his tied-off coat sleeve, then back to his face again.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"I'm also not carrying any weapons," Shiro offered, along with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
It wasn't quite true. There was that bottle of pepper spray in his pocket—highly effective against a vampire's heightened senses—but that hardly counted. Especially since it was the one Matt had given him, the one with the Hello Kitty pattern on it.
Matt had a very specific sense of humor.
The young vampire looked unimpressed, but at least he didn't look ready to stab anyone, even if the blade was still out.
"Look," he said finally, "you don't want to get involved in this. Just keep walking. I can take care of myself."
It was hard to place the boy's age outside the nebulous range of "late teens to early twenties". His hair was long, dark, and mussed. His jacket was too big and well-used, like a hand-me-down or something from a thrift store. He kept one foot touching his duffle bag constantly like he was afraid someone would take it while he wasn't looking.
Street kid, maybe. Young, vulnerable, wouldn't be missed... A tempting target for a rogue vamp. Shiro let his eyes drift to the blood on the boy's neck. Did he even understand what had happened to him?
"You look like you could use some patching up," he offered diplomatically.
"You a doctor?"
Shiro chose his next words carefully.
"I don't think this is the sort of thing a normal doctor could help you with." He watched the way the boy's expression shifted, the way his grip on the knife tightened in response to the words. "And I think you know that, too."
"What do you want?" It was more a demand than a question.
"I just want to help."
Shiro knew they were the wrong words as soon as he said them. The boy's mouth pulled into a snarl, exposing the tips of bright new fangs.
"Letting people 'help' hasn't exactly worked out for me lately."
The boy glanced around, likely picking his exit. Shiro might still catch him if he ran, but getting forceful would sour any goodwill between them, and this would all go a lot smoother with the boy's cooperation.
"You feel different, don't you?" Shiro pressed, his words earning a visible flinch. "Your hearing is better, and you see better in the dark. Your teeth are sharper than they should be, and you can't find your pulse."
The boy went rigid, all deer-in-the-headlights.
"Someone did this to you," Shiro said, taking his chance. "I just want to make sure they don't do it to anyone else."
Red eyes searched him.
"Are you some kind of vampire hunter?"
Shiro was grateful he'd said the "v-word" first. A lot of people had trouble accepting the supernatural.
"More of a vampire sheriff," Shiro said. He'd also been called "the Holt's enforcer" and other, less flattering things, but this came closest to his real job description. "Do you have anywhere to go? Somewhere safe, off the street?"
He'd rather the boy stay somewhere he could keep an eye on him, but the young vamp was cagey, and Shiro would settle for him not ending up in a hospital bed or jail cell.
The boy snarled.
"If I had somewhere to go, I wouldn't be in this mess."
So that's how it was. Shiro hated being right.
As Shiro's eyes adjusted to the low light of the alley, he could just make out the young vampire's features. Beneath the second-hand coat he was lithe and sharp, like the blade in his hands, with fine features and a cutting glare. He was pretty in the way that knives were pretty, promising pain if mishandled.
This boy was never meant to be just a meal, and Shiro didn't have to think hard to guess what his sire had wanted him for.
"My friends and I have the resources to catch whoever attacked you and stop them from doing it to anyone else," Shiro said, "but to do that we need to find them. And I can't do that without your help."
Shiro could see the hesitance on the boy's face, the slow shift towards wary trust.
The knife flicked closed.
"What do you want me to do?"
-
It was a small miracle that the street kid—Keith, he called himself—had agreed to come back to Shiro's apartment with him. But the promise of a meal and a place to sleep in exchange for some information had tempted him enough to risk a stranger's hospitality.
The apartment wasn't much, just a little one-bedroom unit, but still nicer than Shiro could have afforded without help from the Holts. There was a kitchenette to the right of the door with no division between it and the small living room. A couch was pressed up against the opposite wall, facing the front door, with a TV on a low table in front of it.
Shiro rarely watched TV for its own sake, but it was nice on nights when he couldn't sleep. When his mind couldn't let go of terrible things that had happened or might happen. When he stared, dull-eyed and exhausted, at his apartment's main entry point to keep his mind from teasing him with possibilities at every wayward sound...
Paranoia. It was an occupational hazard.
Keith hesitated in the doorway—probably deciding whether or not this looked like the home of a serial killer—before following Shiro in. It seemed like the kid had some sensible paranoia of his own.
"Do you want some water?" Shiro asked. Vampires didn't really need it, but it could take the edge off the blood thirst in the early stages.
"Sure."
Shiro filled a glass for him and sat down at the little dining table.
"When you're ready, start at the beginning. Take your time."
Keith drained the glass in deep gulps and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Already so thirsty...
"There was this halfway house," Keith said. "I'd been seeing flyers for it all over the place for months. I used live at a group home, but they only let you stay until you turn eighteen. Happy birthday to me, right?"
He smiled sardonically, not quite meeting Shiro's eyes.
"When I called the number on the flyer, they said they had a room free, but when I got there, the guy at the desk said there'd been a mistake. Like, someone they thought was leaving today was actually leaving tomorrow or something."
Keith lifted the glass as if to take another drink and got about halfway before noticing it was empty. He set it back down, worrying his bottom lip with one of his new fangs. In the light of indoors, Shiro could see that Keith's eyes were violet when they weren't red. Had they always been that color, or had they changed when Keith was turned?
"The desk guy said I needed to go to 'overflow housing' for the night and they'd have a spot for me in the morning. So I went to the address, but it was in this shitty part of town. The guy was talking like it was a motel they had a deal with, but there wasn't any sign on the building and half the windows were boarded up. I'm not fucking stupid, so I left."
Keith's eyes narrowed, flickering red.
"That's when they jumped me."
"Could you tell how many there were?" Shiro asked.
"Four, I think," Keith said, brow furrowed in recollection. "There were two guys holding me, another who bit me, and there was some other prick off to the side watching. I got the feeling he was in charge."
"In order for you to be changed, you'd have to drink vampire blood after being drained," Shiro said. "Do you know whose it was?"
Keith shook his head.
"They gave it to me in a flask, like one of those metal ones people pull out of their jackets in movies. I didn't even know what was in it. Tasted gross."
"How did you get away?"
Keith snorted.
"Luck, mostly. After they give me the flask, I started to feel really weird. I thought they'd drugged me or something. Figured if I played dead, they might let their guard down. Two of the guys left to do something else. The other two were supposed to move me somewhere. I managed to surprise the guy holding me and got loose. Grabbed my bag and ran like hell."
"You were able to outrun them?" Shiro asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice.
"Sort of," Keith said. "They caught up to me on the sidewalk and knocked me down. But they didn't seem to like the sun too much. They kept cringing and squinting and stuff. I kicked one guy in the face, broke his nose. The other one got his hand near my face, so I bit it until he let go."
"You bit a vampire?" Shiro asked, tickled by the irony in spite of the circumstances.
Keith grinned.
"They started it."
Shiro huffed out a laugh, as much a release of tension as amusement.
"But yeah," Keith continued, "I managed to get back on my feet, threw a few punches, and ran like hell while they were off-balance. I didn't see them follow me after that."
Keith really had gotten lucky. If his assailants had been stronger, more competent, or more experienced, they wouldn't be having this conversation right now. Shiro considered saying as much, but opted against it. There was nothing to be gained by cheapening the boy's victory when he was still shaken by the near-miss.
"Do you still have the flyer for that halfway house?" he asked, getting back on track.
"Yeah." Keith unzipped his duffle bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper – a little torn, but still legible. "The guy at the halfway house – Zayne or Zack or something – he wrote the other place's address on the back."
Perfect.
"This is exactly what we need. I'll call this in, and then we'll figure out a meal for you, okay?"
"Sounds good."
He sounded eager. Well, he was a baby, after all.
Shiro pulled out his flip phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Sam? Yeah, it's me. I looked into that information from Slav, and it looks like we've got a problem."
Shiro relayed Keith's story, turning to him for extra details as needed: what his attackers had looked like, whether they'd said anything, and so on.
"Thanks, Sam. Tell them to stay safe out there." Shiro shut his phone and offered Keith a reassuring smile. "We've got teams headed to both locations. If we're lucky, we'll catch them before they move."
Most vampires kept a nest near their hunting grounds, somewhere safe to retreat during the day. As for the human who'd sent Keith to them, he'd have a normal life to live and appearances to keep up. Odds were good he'd return to his job at the halfway house the next day, and when he did, there'd be a Blade of Marmora agent ready and waiting for a "chat".
"I've been meaning to ask," Shiro said, "where did you learn about vampires? There aren't a lot of people who know about them who aren't involved, one way or another."
Hunters. Feeders. Loved ones. It was a small network of people, even in a big city, and Shiro knew almost everyone in the area.
"I ran away once when I was fifteen," Keith said, gazing off to the side. "Lived on the street for a while, crashed where I could. A few of the places I stayed... I saw some things. At first I thought it was just some weird roleplay thing, but when I got a closer look, it seemed pretty real. Next morning, I walked right into the nearest police station so they could take me back to the home."
"That's an understandable reaction."
Keith shrugged.
"I only had a few more years until I aged out. The home wasn't great, but it was better than getting chomped in my sleep."
Shiro's chest constricted in sympathy. Fifteen was too young to have to make that kind of decision. But Shiro confined his response to an understanding nod. He doubted the standoffish young man would appreciate him fussing.
"Hey, Shiro? Do you know..." Keith paused, frowning, then forged ahead. "Why would they change me at all? Why not just eat me?"
"I can't say for sure," Shiro admitted, "but I have a guess."
Now, how to phrase it delicately?
"Most vampires develop the same traits: greater speed and strength, improved senses, things like that. But depending on what a vampire was like before they were turned, they can end up developing other abilities, too. It's a bit random, and no one's quite sure how it works, but..."
He looked at Keith. The boy was rough and skittish and unwashed, and yet...
"People who are especially... attractive before they're turned tend to become Lures. Basically, they're vampires who can use their appearance to hypnotize people into following them and doing what they want. To some degree, anyway."
Keith frowned.
"Okay... What does that have to do with me?"
"Well," Shiro coughed. "I mean, you're very..."
There was a non-zero chance he was revealing more about his own preferences than the vampire gang's intentions. What if Keith thought Shiro was coming onto him now that they were alone? How was he supposed to continue this conversation without coming off as a dirty old man (even if he really wasn't that old)?
"Looks are subjective," Shiro finished lamely. "In any case, having a Lure is useful for a nest. It's easier to take prey when they'll go somewhere private with you willingly."
"They seriously thought they could get me to hunt people for them?" Keith scoffed.
Shiro approved of the attitude, but even so...
"They wouldn't have given you much choice," he said. "New vampires are as vulnerable as humans, maybe even moreso. Your supernatural abilities are just starting to come in, which will make it hard for you to hunt on your own. On top of that, you'll need to drink more blood than a mature vampire. A lot more."
"How much blood are we talking?" Keith asked warily.
"At least a pint a day for the first few weeks," Shiro estimated. "Maybe more. You'll need a pint every few days after that. After about the first six months, you should be able to go down to a pint a week. It can vary a lot depending on how strong you are and how much you exert yourself."
"That's... a lot of blood," Keith said, mouth drawn in a faint grimace. "Where am I supposed to get all that?"
"We have a donor network," Shiro assured him. "There are people who volunteer to feed the local vamps, either by filling up a blood bag or in person. We won't let you go hungry."
The unexpected appearance of a baby vampire would strain the local supply almost to breaking, but they'd make it work. They had to.
Keith still looked uncomfortable.
"What if I just... skip this whole blood thing?" he asked. "Stick with pizza and peanut butter sandwiches?"
"That... would be a bad idea," Shiro said slowly. "It won't hurt you to eat regular human food, but it's not what your body needs anymore. You'll crave blood—human blood—and that craving will get stronger until it blocks out everything else. You won't be able to control yourself. Whether you want to or not, you will hunt someone, and you will kill them."
Shiro didn't want to scare the kid, but there were things he needed to know.
"Remember how I told you that new vampires are vulnerable? Well, this is the worst of it. If an adult vampire starves, goes into a blood frenzy, and feeds, they'll regain their senses afterward. But if a new vampire—if you—go into a blood frenzy? There won't be any coming back.
"You'll become a ghoul—incapable of doing or thinking of anything but hunting your next victim and bleeding them dry. And I'll have to put you down."
Shiro met Keith's pale, shocked gaze and smiled thinly.
"And I really don't want to do that."
Keith's mouth opened, then closed tightly. He looked away, swallowing audibly.
"How long until...?"
"Since you were turned earlier this evening, I'd say about four hours until it gets dangerous to be around you. Twelve hours until things start to get... irreversible."
And the longer they waited, the more dangerous Shiro's plan would get.
"Okay." Keith's voice cracked around the word, but he soldiered on. "Do you keep blood bags in the fridge, or something?"
"I had something a little more traditional in mind."
Shiro unzipped his coat and laid it over the back of the chair as he stood. Beneath, he wore the same white tanktop and grey sweatpants he'd been lounging in before Slav had called him. The outfit showed a lot more scar tissue than Shiro usually displayed for strangers, especially around the severed stump of his right arm, but—well—this wasn't exactly the time to be body-shy.
Keith's eyes went wide and intent, dragging over newly-exposed skin like a physical touch. His eyes flickered between violet and predatory red, teetering on the edge of instinct.
This would take a light touch.
Shiro backed slowly towards the couch, keeping his eyes on Keith, and the young vampire rose unbidden to follow. Shiro was careful not to give the appearance of fighting or fleeing—either of which might trigger a volatile baby vampire's instincts.
Shiro's legs bumped the edge of the couch, and he lowered himself slowly onto it. He leaned back with his arm relaxed at his side. He needed to look calm, nonthreatening. Keith followed as if drawn on a tether, utterly focused. There was something shifting about his appearance. Not that his form was changing, but that something was tugging at Shiro's perception of it, demanding his attention.
The beginnings of a Lure, just as he'd thought.
Keith knelt over Shiro, straddling his lap with a knee on either side. His hands pressed into the back of the couch above Shiro's shoulders, caging him in. Not a great position to be in with a hungry vampire, but Shiro reassured himself that Keith was still young, lacking supernatural strength and speed. He could push him off if need be.
But the pounding in Shiro's chest was only half from nerves. The other half... Well, suffice it to say, the last time someone had looked at him with that much need, the circumstances had been quite different.
Shiro shook the thought off. Keith was hungry; that was all. The boy's eyes followed the line of Shiro's jaw down his neck to his collar bones, never quite stopping anywhere. Instinct could only take one so far, it seemed.
"Right here." Shiro tapped the side of his neck, over the artery. "Just like in the movies."
The words seemed to snap Keith out of whatever trance he'd been in. He hesitated, violet seeping back into his eyes.
"I... I don't want to hurt you."
Shiro softened at the concern.
"You won't. But if we need it, there's a first aid kit under the couch. Clotting sponges are right at the top."
"What if I drink too much?"
"The human stomach only holds about a liter," Shiro assured him. "Just stop when you're full, and it'll be no different from a blood donation." He smiled encouragingly. "You've got this."
There was something funny about comforting the vampire that was about to feed on you. Shiro wondered if first feedings were this stressful for all young vampires or if his baby was just unusually conscientious.
"Right. Okay."
Keith took a deep, steadying breath, purple eyes sliding closed. When he opened them again, they were blood red and so focused that Shiro felt pinned, even though the vampire hadn't touched him. Whether Keith intended it or not, there was an edge of supernatural force to his gaze—weak enough for Shiro to break it if need be, but stronger than he would have expected from an hours-old baby vamp.
Damn, he'd be powerful one day.
Shiro suppressed the reflex to fight a vampire's thrall and reminded himself breathe deeply as Keith pressed closer. The boy smelled of sweat and cheap soap with a sour undercurrent of unwashed laundry. It was such a human smell. Not quite unpleasant, but filled with all the messiness of life.
A life that had been taken from him.
Shiro couldn't give that back to him, but he could at least make sure Keith didn't lose any more. He laid his hand gently on Keith's back in reassurance.
"I've got you, buddy."
Against all his training, Shiro tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. He'd never been a willing feeder before, but there was a first time for everything.
Keith's warm breath ghosted over his throat, and for a moment chapped lips and needle-tipped fangs dragged lightly over his skin like an uncertain kiss. Shiro held himself still. Pain bit into him sharp and deep—but not unexpected—and Shiro resolved himself to endure it. But soon, the pain began to fade into warmth and a tingling numbness.
Venom already? Had Shiro remembered to tell Keith he'd develop venom?
Probably not, but there was no point alarming him with it now. It wasn't designed to harm the victim anyway, just to render them placid and willing. The exact effects varied by individual, from a terrifying paralysis to a detached euphoria, but Keith's mild young venom was simply... pleasant. Some general warmth and relaxation and a localized numbness around the bite. Shiro could work with that.
Blood welled up where Keith had bitten, and at the first taste he gave a startled moan that Shiro felt against his throat. Keith pressed closer, suckling on reflex, and soon he wasn't so much braced over Shiro as clinging to him, as if he thought someone might snatch his treat away.
The venom made Shiro feel fuzzy and languid, more like he was getting a good massage than giving blood. He let his head fall back against the couch and indulged a bit in the sensation. He'd been fed on by vampiric assailants before, but it had never been like this. He'd never understood why some feeders preferred to donate in person, but if this was what it was like when you were willing, Shiro could see the appeal.
That said, the venom wasn't without its drawbacks. The relaxation loosened Shiro's control over his body, making it harder to remain unaffected the intimate contact. Vampire or not, Keith was a very, very pretty boy. And that boy's lithe, solid body was currently pressed flush against his, making soft, eager little moans as he fed. Without any room between them, there wouldn't be any hiding it if Shiro's body decided to... respond.
He tried to focus on keeping Keith calm, rubbing soft circles into his lower back. The comfort seemed to help, quieting some of the desperation in Keith's feeding moans and relaxing his grip.
Soon enough, the young vampire released Shiro, licking the last drops of blood away from the mark on his neck. It was a good instinct. While a hungry vampire's saliva encouraged blood to flow, a sated vampire's saliva had a natural clotting effect.
"Did you get enough?" Shiro asked. He felt fine, not weak or dizzy. The lingering effects of the venom made him feel a bit lethargic, but that could also have been from going out in the middle of the night to chase after a stray vampire.
"I think so," Keith said. He pulled back, looking Shiro over with visible concern. "Are you okay? You look kind of out of it."
"I'm fine. Just a side-effect of the feeding. It'll wear off soon." Shiro could explain the whole "venom" thing in the morning. Keith had already had enough revelations dropped on him for one day.
"Do you need me to get you anything?" Keith asked, standing. He looked steadier than before. Stronger.
"There are sports drinks in the fridge," Shiro said. "One of those would probably be a good idea." Fluids, sugars, electrolytes... Everything a mildly exsanguinated body could ask for.
Keith went to the fridge, and Shiro leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, taking stock of his body as the venom-warmth and numbness lifted. He heard Keith snort incredulously and creaked an eye open.
"Do you want electric blue or piss yellow?"
"You, of all people, don't get to criticize my choice in beverages," Shiro said, maybe a bit tactlessly. "But if you're going to put it like that, I'll take the blue."
To Keith's credit, he did look chastened, but that didn't stop him from continuing.
"You've got nothing in here. Just a bunch of those drinks and some expired eggs."
"There should be some leftover macaroni and cheese, too." He hoped it was still there. It was starting to sound good.
"There is. It's burned."
"Is this how you thank everyone who feeds you?"
Keith gave an exasperated sigh that was half growl.
"What I mean is you should buy some real fucking food. Get some eggs that aren't biohazards, and I'll make us breakfast."
"Oh." So that's how it was, Shiro mused, thoroughly endeared. "Yeah. I can make a grocery run in the morning." He was overdue anyway, and now that there was someone around who could actually cook...
Keith wasn't likely to stay for too long. Once they'd sorted out how to feed him and laid out his options for work and shelter, he'd probably be eager to get out of Shiro's cramped, one-bedroom apartment. Still, that didn't mean they couldn't make the most of the arrangement while it lasted.
"Speaking of morning..." Keith flopped down on the couch next to Shiro, handing him his "electric blue" drink. "What's the deal with vampires and daylight? Based on what happened with the other guys, I'm guessing I won't burst into flames if I go out in the sun."
"Not unless you're feeling dramatic," Shiro chuckled, twisting off the cap. "The sun won't kill you, but you will burn easier than before. The biggest hazard is dayblindness. You're eyes are going to become super photosensitive, and in full daylight you won't be able to see anything without some heavy duty sunglasses."
"Well, that's a pain in the ass," Keith grumbled. "Not a lot of jobs you can do just at night."
"More than you'd think," Shiro assured him, taking a drink. It tasted better than usual, a good sign his body was noticing the bloodloss. Well, at least that meant Keith had taken enough. "Sam knows some places that don't ask too many questions, and we'll introduce you to other vampires who can help you figure out your options."
Keith opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Shiro waited for him to pick his words.
"You're going through a lot of trouble to help me. Why?"
Wasn't it obvious?
"What happened to you wasn't your fault, Keith. And you shouldn't have to suffer for it. You're not a bad person or a monster. You just need a little help."
It was a simple, true statement. Nothing grand. Certainly nothing that should have made Keith look at him like he'd just handed him absolution. Keith looked away for a moment, cheeks flushed—probably from the recent feeding—and seemed to collect himself before meeting Shiro's gaze again.
"Are you feeling better now?" Keith asked.
"Much better," Shiro assured him. "I wouldn't want to run up a flight of stairs or fight a werewolf for a while, but I'll be fine."
Keith nodded, eyes serious.
"If anything happens, I'll take care of it."
Shiro... hadn't been expecting that.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Keith confirmed. "You're like this because of me, right? So I'll keep you safe you until you feel better."
"I'm not expecting a break-in or anything."
Keith just shrugged stubbornly, not meeting his eyes. Shiro couldn't help the smile that pulled at his mouth.
He picked up the remote and switched on the TV, going back to the documentary he'd been watching earlier that evening.
"When you're ready to sleep you can take the bed," Shiro offered. "I'm planning to wind down for a bit and crash on the couch."
"You sure?" Keith asked, but then he got distracted by the images on the screen. "What's that about?"
"Black holes. Specifically, supermassive black holes like the one at the center of our galaxy."
"Wait, is there really a black hole at the center of the galaxy?"
Shiro grinned.
"I can start it from the beginning if you're interested."
At some point during the documentary, Keith nodded off and slumped against Shiro's side. He looked so soft in sleep—cheek mushed against Shiro's shoulder so that one little fang poked out, more cute than threatening. Normally, even that little sign of danger would have been enough to keep Shiro wary and wakeful all night. Even a good-natured vampire could be dangerous after all.
He dozed off anyway.
Neither of them stirred until the morning sun slanted through the blinds and brought Keith awake cursing. He retreated to the bedroom and the safety of Shiro's blackout curtains.
Shiro went to buy eggs.