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Dracula was so, so glad that he was finally able to go back into his room. To be honest, he was almost surprised he made it through the night. Almost. Living as long as he did, he knew what he could handle and what he couldn’t. Quite frankly though, he really, really fucking pushed his limits. Groaning, he scrubbed his face with his palms. You see, there was a reason vampires didn’t go out in daylight. And what had he done? Flew after a plane in broad daylight, practically melting his wings as he chased after Johnny. His fault, he knew, and it had taken a bit of time to swallow that pill. He’s learning to accept this… whole entire situation, but of course, it would take time. Anyways, after he’d gotten Johnny back, Dracula had to practically rebuilt the party from scratch- which, by the way, was not easy.
Of course he had help, but he’d taken on the brunt of it, knowing that nothing less than perfect was suitable for his daughter. Now, after hours of planning and then partying with a back so badly burnt that he could feel it twisting and splitting his skin, he could finally see what damage the sun had done to him. He’d been using a simple numbing spell the entire night, which vampires were particularly good at. It stopped him from feeling most of it, but with a wound this big, a simple spell just wasn’t going to cut it. He wasn’t going to use any big magic though since it would wear him out- and that included healing magic. Because that’s something that vampires… aren’t good at. Fortunately, it went without a hitch! Nobody suspected anything and Mavis got to have her perfect birthday party!
Thank god nobody suspected anything. He never wanted to bring down the mood on his daughter’s birthday, so to do it a second time would just be… well... he’d rather not think about it. Besides, he didn’t want to scare her out of travelling. Which was a weird thought that he never thought that he’d have. But it’s true! She knows to stay out of the sun and he wants her to follow her dreams… as far away from him as they may be. His throat closed up for a moment and he shook his head. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry! Determined to distract himself, he marched over to his window and flung it open. The night air cooled his shirt, taking the returning bite off his burns as his last numbing spell wore off. He’d think about Mavis’ leaving… later.
Right now, he had to focus on himself. Healing magic, no matter how much or how little, put a strain on vampires. During the party, he simply dealt with it. He was immortal, he wasn’t going to up and die. But of course he had to get one of the worst injuries a vampire could get. Sure, he could take an axe to his head, but a sunburn? Nuh-uh, no way. He did heal the burns on his face so he’d seem okay, but other than that? Nothing. The good news was that his sleeves hid a lot of the damage. The bad news was… well... he gestured for his cape to come off as he looked at his clothes. He couldn’t start his healing magic until he took them off.
If he did it now, he knew from experience that the fabric would fuse to his skin. Which was, obviously, a very, very bad idea. The cloak flung itself off of him, floating around him anxiously. The worrywart. It had already healed itself, though it had probably taken the brunt of the damage. Well, he supposed, it was made to do that. The cape reached out hesitantly, placing a soft fabric corner on his head. He smiled at it, glad to have it even though he knew that it would probably be motherhenning him for the rest of the night. He patted it on its shoulder, pointedly ignoring the screaming pain his arm felt at the movement.
“Hey, why don’t you bring me some blood supplements, hm?” Dracula spoke softly, not wanting to distress the poor thing any more.
The cloak nodded at him and zipped underneath the door, going so fast the end of it whipped the bottom of the door, rattling it near off its frame. He covered his laugh with a cough, and turned his attention back to his clothes. Though the cloak was alive, the rest of his clothes… er, weren’t. So while the cloak burned in the sun, the rest remained intact. So while that ensured that nobody had noticed his injuries, clothes tended to… stick to burns. It was better than the clothes actually melting to his skin, but still. He just had to grit his teeth and deal with it.
Knowing he was procrastinating, he walked (limped) over to his mirror, pain seizing his legs with every step. He’d never been so glad to get a mirror that actually worked for him, because he did not want to do this blind. For a good, long moment, he could do nothing but stare at himself. He… hesitated. He didn’t look so great. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, stark against pale skin that was even lighter than usual. He didn’t want to do this, but there was no alternative. After a deep breath in, he raised his arms to take off his suit, and watched as his arms slowly, painfully rose to his buttons. His hands were trembling and his fingers weren’t moving properly, he couldn’t bend his fingers all the way, making it awful to actually undo the damn things. As if that wasn’t hard enough, they would spasm and twitch at random intervals.
He could just use his magic to take his clothes off but… once again, he needed to conserve his magic for the healing spells. And also he, you know, wasn’t too jazzed about finding out whether or not using magic to rip his shirt off would also flay the skin from his back. After about two minutes of trying to get a single button undone, he decided that his jacket just wasn’t worth it. He put his hand inside his shirt collar and pushed down. He didn’t notice the buttons bouncing off the ground. He’d doubled over in pain, fangs digging into his lip as his arm twitched and spasmed wildly. A dull roar of static filled his ears and he wanted to rip his goddamn arm off. Because there was no way in hell that losing it would hurt more than… this. Suppressing that instinct took... way more effort than Dracula was willing to admit.
It took him a while, but after regaining control over his breathing, he managed to straighten back up, despite everything in his body screaming at him to stay down. Blood rolled down his chin and dropped onto the floor. He wanted to care. He really did, because to vampires, blood was a precious resource. And yet, he watched another drop glide down his face dispassionately, exhaustion weighing over him. The jacket was next. One foot in front of the other. A spike of anxiety and fear lanced through his chest. His shoulders simply wouldn’t allow it. He… didn’t want to do this. He honestly contemplated going to bed and dealing with what happened in the morning.
He knew better though, so he began lifting his arms again. He knew his biceps were mangled from the burns. Because despite not seeing them, he could certainly feel them twisting, and it almost felt like they were sawing through his arms, tightening around bone. His arms reached a stalemate where he couldn’t physically lift them any higher, but he refused to drop them when a flicker of motion passed by in the mirror. He froze, ears straining to pick up any noise, so he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something brush up against him. As it was, he could only barely flinch as his cloak popped into his line of sight, blood supplements in its folds.
He pat it gently on the shoulder in thanks, making the best of where his arms were currently since he wasn’t doing much else with them. It gently set them on a nearby table knowing the routine by now. Floating behind him, it gently peeled his jacket off, making Dracula feel dizzy in a rush of gratefulness. It then zipped back out of view, though Dracula heard it rummaging through drawers. The world around him flowed like water or a hazy memory, spots in his vision that he couldn’t tell you the exact color of floated in and out of view. Huh. That bad? He questioned distantly, until he was pulled back to the present by his cloak pointing a pair of scissors at him. Once he figured out that no, the cloak wasn’t threatening him and was actually asking permission to cut his shirt, he decided that, yeah, that bad.
He gave a nod and immediately regretted it for two reasons, one he really liked that shirt, and two, his head was not the most… solid? Right now. His eyesight went black for at least a full minute while his brain decided that he might as well have the most splitting headache ever. When his vision decided to finally clear, he noticed a couple of things. His tie had been neatly removed and not cut, which was nice. His shirt was around his feet. His white button up, however, was unbuttoned but still on. The last layer. He and his cloak both knew very well that Dracula had to remove it on his own. Otherwise, more serious damage could be done to him.
He painstakingly lifted his arms again. His cloak seemed to realize that that wasn’t going to work super well and helped him to lift his arms up. It was still painful, but it wasn’t slow and decidedly less agonizing. He pushed his hand underneath his shirt, moving it up to his shoulder, where his hand was forcibly stopped. Bolts of pain shot through his body as he worked the fabric away from his shoulder, leaving him nauseous and shaky. The fabric came away with disgusting sounds that made him want to puke. He couldn’t even do that though. He hadn’t eaten recently enough, and he would definitely end up dry heaving. Luckily, he was able to suppress this, though he couldn’t stop the saliva from filling his mouth. He tried to push his hand further into his sleeve, which was doomed to fail from the very start.
His shirt was tailored to him. Which meant that there was no way he could fit another arm into his sleeve. Not thinking, he tried again. The already tight fabric pushed into his burns, causing him to let out an involuntary screech. His cloak slapped over his mouth as tears sprung to his eyes. He bit down on it as it grabbed the scissors and cut the sleeves where the underside of his sleeves would be, starting from the cuffs and ending at his chest. It repeated the process on the other side while Dracula calmed down enough to release his jaw. He thanked the cloak quietly, and looked at his tattered shirt. This would make peeling off his shirt ten times easier. He definitely needed to get a gift for his cloak after this. He grabbed a fistful of fabric at his wrist, and began to peel.
He… doesn’t remember much about this, if he was being honest. He remembers feeling fabric in his mouth, and pressure on his chest that kept him from falling. He remembers blackness and wetness on his cheeks, and by god does he remember the pain. Nothing quite like feeling your skin wanting to come off of your body. The fabric fell away from his arms, and he finally got his first look at them. It wasn’t good. In some places, he could see the white of his bones peeking through, but that was rapidly becoming not the case as blood welled up, obstructing it from sight. Some puss bubbles had formed, but fortunately, those don’t form as easily on a vampire, so they were only here and there and not… everywhere. Swallowing, he watched as his arms spasmed irregularly before he summoned up a healing spell, focusing it on his arms, and watched as muscle pushed the blood away, enclosing his bones once more. Not wanting to exhaust himself before he got the rest of his clothes off, he stopped as soon as the muscle was formed.
Moving his arms now was a little less painful and infinitely easier. He realized dimly that he must’ve been using some magic to move his arms if his muscles had burned through. He scowled at himself before mentally shrugging. What else could he have done? At least his sleeves were off. But now… he had to get the back off. Great. Dragging his arms up, he pulled gently on what remained of his shirt, before quickly deciding that that was not the smartest thing to do.
“W-,” His voice came out more like a strained croak than anything else, licking his lips, he tried again “Water. I need water.”
Nodding, his cloak once again left, leaving him to stare at himself. Blood dripped from his arms onto the floor and he had bags under his eyes that seemed to darken even as he looked at them. He’s seen worse, but it certainly isn’t fun. His head was heavy as if another vampire hunter had decided to fill it with lead again and he had to honestly resist the urge to crack open his skull to check. He definitely could not afford any more injuries right now. But seriously though, the vampire hunter who did that deserved what came to him, that sadistic prick. It both felt like hours and only a couple of seconds when the door opened again. He did not, however, expect the voice that came with it.
“Hey, Drac? I saw your cloak flying around and I- OH MY GOD!” The young redhead that had made himself a nuisance in the castle came barreling into his line of sight, causing Drac to jerk backwards, a movement that sent surges of pain and heat across his body, “What happened to you man?! Are you okay? What am I saying, of course you’re not okay, yOU’RE BLEEDING.”
Feeling his headache worsen, he tried to calm him down before things escalated, “Johnny.”
“I need to call the hospital right now! Or maybe the police?! Did somebody do this to you?!”
“Johnny.”
“Oh, wait a minute, you’re a vampire. I can’t call the hospital or the police! I’ll ask Mavis-!”
“Johnny.”
“She’ll know what to do, right?!”
Dracula sighed and stepped closer, ignoring his protesting legs. To his credit, Johnny immediately gave him his full attention when Dracula placed his hand on his shoulder, much to the annoyance of the rest of his arm.
“Johnny, listen, everything is going to be okay. Why don't you go back to bed, and in the morning, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”
“Nothing…? You’re hurt!”
“I’m aware. We heal faster than humans.” At that moment, his cloak reappeared with a bowl of water. “Now, I need to continue, so you should go back to sleep.”
“But-”
“Goodnight, Johnny.”
He almost looked like he was listening, right until he bounced back, “No, I’m not going back to bed! I’m going to help you.”
“It’s fine, Johnny. I... deserved this.”
“Deserved this?! What do you mean you deserved this?! Nobody deserves this!”
Losing patience, he waved him off, but even though he immediately regretted it, he didn’t show it, “It’s only fair. I’m the one who drove you out, so I was the one to get you back.”
“Wait… is this… is this from getting me back?”
Silently, Dracula cursed himself, Johnny, the sun, the zing, and whatever gods, deities and entities he could think of, “No. Forget what I just said.”
“Drac, is it?”
“I said no!”
“Drac-”
“WHAT!”
They spent an uncomfortable amount of time staring each other down, neither willing to give in. The cloak shook its collar at the both of them before pouring the lukewarm water it brought down Dracula’s shirt, making him lose the staredown as he crumpled from the pain that seemed to be alive as it wormed its way through him faster than lightning.
After a precious few moments while he choked back screams, throat bulging from the effort, he managed to speak again, fight leaving him, “Alright! Fine! You can stay. Just... don’t say anything.”
“But I want to help!”
Dracula glared at him, feeling his eyes go red before deciding that fighting with Johnny this was a waste of time and effort. Johnny would do whatever Johnny wanted to do.
“Okay! In the downstairs closet, there are some bandages, I need you to grab them. We usually use them for the mummies, but I can always order more.”
Johnny practically sprinted out of the door, not even looking behind him. And, no, Dracula did not just say that to get rid of him, though that certainly was an upside. At this rate, it was getting more and more likely that he would pass out before healing himself, and he did not want to either bleed out or stain his coffin. Whichever. Johnny could help him put the bandages on, which would be way less energy than, you know, regrowing his skin. It had the added bonus that the bandages would be on top of the wounds, not practically melding with them, so he could heal without fear.
The cloak lightly tapped his palm and then gestured to his back. Knowing exactly what it wanted, he nodded. It gently rubbed a circle on his back, while Dracula gritted his teeth so hard that he was genuinely wondering which would break first; his jaw or his teeth. The water had loosened up the blood, and his cloak was helping to separate the cloth from his skin. He really, really wished he’d thought of this earlier. Oh well. He’s never done this before. Well, at least, not on this scale. Most everything else could be done with brute force and a very high pain tolerance. Everywhere his cloak touched, his nerves screamed. Well, mostly. In some patches, he could feel, well, he couldn’t. Feel, that was. The nerves had to have died. The cloak moved away after a moment or two, and Dracula felt a surge of relief, immediately crushed by another round of water dumped down his shirt.
Suddenly exhausted, his head slumped forward of its own accord, the ground rolling underneath him. A watered down puddle of blood had formed at his feet, and his teeth slammed against each other, the sound worsening his headache. He felt disconnected from… everything. As if it were somebody else’s blood, a sound not made by him, somebody else’s pain. His head didn’t weigh anything but also it felt like a thousand pounds. Actually, so did the rest of his body… his eyes shot open. He didn’t remember that he closed them. His vision turned black at the corners and the noise around him faded to a crackle. The only way he knew he was falling was when his knees hit the ground, blood rushing to his head. He wished he could brace himself against his fall, but not one single muscle in his body wanted to respond.
He never hit the ground. An odd pressure was at his chest, and he knew instinctively that his cloak had caught him. His head swam in syrup while dozens of colors flitted by his eyelids until he managed to reopen them. Looking down at him was his cloak… and Johnny. That’s when he realized that the pressure was not only from his cloak, but a gangly pair of arms that was around him. He nodded his thanks to the both of them, slightly embarrassed that a human had to help him, a vampire. His cloak pulled him back to his feet, steadying him as he stood. For a moment, he thought he’d just black out, but he didn’t, so that was a stroke of good luck. Steadying himself, he prepared himself for what was next. Grabbing his shirt, he resumed trying to peel it off, pretending he didn’t notice Johnny’s gasp of horror. He’s the one who wanted to be here, so he had to either suck it up or leave.
Static shot through his body in long bursts, forcing him to lean on his cloak while he choked back tears. He refused to cry in front of Johnny. He realized now that the water only made his shirt that much heavier, even if it came off marginally easier than before. Finally, the shirt fell around his feet, and behind him, he heard Johnny gag. Well, whatever. What was he supposed to do, force him out of the room? Actually… he probably should’ve done that. Humans have some rather strange hang-ups. Ignoring Johnny, he assessed the damage done to his back. It was... bad, but he already knew that. Skin was indeed taken away by his shirt, but in a stroke of luck, not much of it was. That could be because he hadn’t much skin left, but, you know, it works. Blood worked sluggishly up to his gash-like burns that marred his skin. He snatched up a blood supplement and downed it at a record-breaking speed. Fuck his pants, he knew the most damage was done to his back, so who cares if he has to do a bit more damage to his legs. Focusing a spell on his back, he felt skin growing over the worst of it. Johnny breathed out hard, but it was difficult to tell his emotions when he couldn’t see him.
It reminded him, however, that he had Johnny fetch those bandages for a reason, “Johnny.”
Started, Johnny rushed back into his sight, stumbling both over his feet and his words, “Yes, what need- what do you- yeah?”
Dracula looked over at him and prayed he wasn’t making a mistake, “You said that you wanted to help?”
His face hardened in a way that was fascinating to Dracula, “Yes.”
“Okay,” He began, wondering distantly if he’d ever be able to see it again before remembering that he had more pressing issues at hand, “If I pass out, I need you to wrap me up in those bandages, put me into my coffin- don’t worry, my cloak will help, and then close the lid.”
“...Okay? Will do.”
He took another blood supplement, feeling a slight amount of energy come back to him, though it was entirely likely a placebo.
“... Hey, Drac?”
“Hm?”
“Well,” Johnny seemed nervous now, twiddling his fingers together as Drac once again started healing, “I was just wondering… would you heal better with human blood?”
Dracula choked on his supplement.
“You said, well, kinda, that this happened while you were getting me back. I want to repay you! If it makes you heal better, I want you to take my blood.”
Taking a moment to compose himself, he barely managed to force out, “Johnny, I can’t allow you to do that. Yes, I will heal faster, but right now, I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
“But-!”
“This isn’t up for discussion, Johnny. I didn’t get you back just to kill you. Besides, aren’t you the one afraid of me sucking your blood?”
“It’s different now! I trust you!”
A pang that came from his heart rather than his skin hit Dracula, “You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?! I do!”
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Choosing to not respond, he snatched up another supplement and drained that as well, giving Johnny the best deadpan stare he could manage. Stubborn, stubborn Johnny simply glared back. Rolling his eyes at him, he suddenly decided that he should, in fact remove his pants before they melded with him. He shoving at his waistline weakly, feeling tremors race down his arms before he gave up. It would be fine. Probably. If he had to wear these pants for the next eternity, or rip them off along with his skin later, he would. He glanced back to Johnny to see a fading blush. Oh, right, hang-ups. But just as he was about to… apologize? Johnny spoke up.
“I’ll take them off,” Johnny looked determined before he seemed to realize what he just said and blushed once again, “I- I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
Dracula shrugged, feeling strain twinge across his shoulders. He didn’t particularly care either way. He stepped back towards him, eyes closing briefly as tiredness bowled through him. Johnny got over his embarrassment quickly, probably because of his humanness. Humans have this quirk where, if they’re kind, they would do anything and everything to help. And Johnny was one of the kindest he’d ever met. Then again, this was a fact that Dracula had learned from Johnny himself. Cemented by the festival, when everybody had cleared a path for him, even making it shaded so he wouldn’t burn. He owes it to them that he wasn’t worse off. Johnny unbuttoned his pants, and it very quite suddenly hit Dracula that he wasn’t free of ‘human hang-ups’ either.
Well. It was only at the worst possible time that he realized this. It’s all alright! Johnny hooked his thumbs into his waistline, and goddammit, why him? Then Johnny pushed down and Dracula immediately forgot to be embarrassed, because ow. That really fucking hurt. He had to give Johnny credit though, cause he pushed through, only pulling a fair amount of skin off his legs. It was only when his pants hit his ankles did he find just how much his legs were trembling. A leaf going down Niagara Falls had more stability than he did. He wanted to thank Johnny, but his brain had turned into a big ball of mush mixed with a(n) (un)healthy dose of agony.
The most he could do was give him a (very) shaky pat on the shoulder, a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, and front row seats to him draining another blood supplement packet. His cloak simply watched on, ready to catch him should he fall. The skin around his legs healed more sluggishly than his back, probably because he was just drained by now. Not a single place had been fully healed, more or less just dubbed ‘good enough’. Other than his face. Because it was always a totally good idea to pretend you weren’t injured to give your daughter a good birthday party! He still didn’t regret it. This would have to do for tonight. It hurt, but whatever. Subconsciously, he took a step towards his coffin, wanting nothing more than to fall into it. Too caught up in his own musings, he neglected to see the expressions on Johnny’s face.
If he had, he might’ve been prepared for what came next. Then again, he doubted it. Because one moment everything was fine, and the next Johnny had a pair of scissors. With not enough time to react, he couldn’t stop the young human from very lightly swiping the forgotten pair of scissors right across his left bicep. Nothing enough to leave a scar, but enough to draw… blood. The next thing he knew, Johnny was being pressed into the floor by him, his elongated nails biting into the human’s shoulders. His teeth hung barely centimeters from his neck, saliva dripping from his mouth as if he were some kind of wild animal. He knew instinctively that his eyes were red, and that if he didn’t back off now, he never would.
Shaking his head like a feral dog, he leaned back. Despite not needing to breathe, he was panting heavily, world fading in and out of focus as Johnny took up that focus. Johnny totally knew this would happen- he did this on purpose! He... needed to get as far away from Johnny as possible. This was proving to be impossible, however, as this stupid human had his eyes closed and seemed to be completely relaxed. The perfect prey. His thighs tensed up. He needed to run. He needed to go. He didn’t want to hurt him. Oh, but yet, he did. And that was probably the worst part. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to sink his teeth into the boy's neck. He wanted to feel the rush of blood as he punctured an artery. He craved it. Which is why he couldn’t. He didn’t want to kill him, despite everything else in him baying for a human’s blood.
The second he began rising, however, long fingers grabbed his thighs, preventing his weakened body from getting up. The stubborn asshole currently beneath him wasn’t giving in without a fight. Not only that, his beloved cape seemed to be interested in solely being a bystander. To top it all off, this was going on for so long that Dracula was becoming embarrassingly aware that he was near naked straddling a man who was holding his thighs. As if biting him wasn’t already tempting enough, by now he just wanted this whole thing to be over with. His head grew fuzzier and fuzzier by the second. He was fighting, but he was losing, his body tilting closer and closer to the defenseless human on the floor.
Before he knew it, his fangs were grazing a pale neck. The human shuddered beneath him. Unable to stop anymore, his fangs sliced easily into flesh. Blood, actual blood filled his mouth. He hadn’t had any for… decades. He didn’t feel any pain anymore. A rush of bliss and nostalgia and a feeling of rightness filled him gently. It felt as though he were- the fingers on his thighs loosened ever so slightly, and he shot backwards, panic flooding his body. Drops of blood spilled down Johnny’s neck. Johnny looked… fine? Shocked, but otherwise okay. Tossing bandages via levitation to his cloak, Dracula ran. No, he wasn’t doing as teenagers do and running away from his problems. He was a grown ass adult. So that was only a very nice bonus. He slid, nearly horizontally into the kitchen, snatching every piece of food he physically could within easy reach before bolting back out, barely managing to grab a glass of water on his way.
Stupid humans with their selflessness. Stupid vampires with their inability to resist blood. He practically flew back towards his room, despite not being in bat form. Why couldn’t Johnny just leave well enough alone?! He looked fine, but seriously?! Human blood was very… potent. He could’ve killed him! Dracula noticed that he was healed now, but that just made him all the more concerned. Just how much blood did he take?! He entered back into his room in a rush, barely paying attention to how Johnny’s knees were tucked into his chest, or how his forehead rested on his knees or that his neck was now completely covered in gauze. He simply chucked his food next to him -though he gently shoved the glass of water into his hands- and immediately began lecturing him about just how irresponsible that was. Because quite frankly, Dracula was pissed. Who the fuck decides to goad a vampire, of all things? That was a very stupid and dangerous thing to do! About halfway through his lecture, however, Johnny seemed to come back to the present.
“Wait- waitwaitwait... you’re not mad at me?”
Stunned, Dracula snapped back, “Mad??? I’m furious! You could have been very seriously hurt!”
“No, no, I get that, but, like, you’re not mad at me for practically making you drink my blood?”
“...? What?”
“Dude, you didn’t want to, but I… I basically forced you to. I don’t know what I was thinking! It was dumb and I-”
“Johnny, I’m mad about the fact that you could’ve been hurt. I’m mad that you have such a seemingly low regard for your own life. I’m mad that I had to rush down to the kitchen in my underwear because I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me. I’m not mad that you tried to help me. Even if it was a bit… ah… unconventional.”
And just like that, Johnny crashed into him, arms curling around Dracula. ...Was that the only thing that he was worried about? He sighed, bringing his arms around Johnny as he resigned himself to properly lecture him… in the night. It was morning now, and he was tired. This human and all of his weird little hang-ups was family now. He wouldn’t change it for the world. He’d definitely have to warn Mavis though. She really needed to know how weird humans can be. And how ridiculously selfless they were. Speaking of, he whacked the back of Johnny’s head.
“Hey-!”
“Don’t ever think of doing something like this, ever again. Now take your food and go to your room.”
Pouting, Johnny grabbed what was left before marching out the door.
“Oh, and Johnny?”
“... What?”
“Thank you.”
Humans sure do know how to blush brilliantly though, so he supposed that that made it all worth it.