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Once again, Jimmy wished he’d gone for an apartment on ground level. The height meant nothing to anyone truly intent on breaking in and the stairs were salt in the wound. Metaphorically, because he wasn’t wounded. Just really tired.
Jimmy slumped against the door behind him, seriously considering just sliding to the floor and taking a quick nap there.
“Rough day?”
Jimmy cracked an eye to look at the couch and the person who was truly intent on breaking in. Not anymore, Jimmy gave him a key (though Jimmy doubted he switched to the door from… however he got in). Whoever said vampires needed permission to enter houses was a filthy liar.
“’M tired,” Jimmy said. He shoved off the door and dropped on the couch, making the cushions shift and nearly sending Tango into him. He distantly noticed the tv was on and muted, a common pastime for Tango waiting for Jimmy to return. “Got distracted with a show until—way too late, then Norman threw up at three, and people kept needing me up and running around at work.”
Tango hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry buddy. Hey, I don’t have to eat today.”
This finally made Jimmy sit up. He leveled Tango with a glare. “If I’m not allowed to miss meals, neither are you.”
“I have back-ups, I’m not stupid,” Tango protested.
“You can eat from me,” Jimmy said firmly. He watched Tango consider whether to push the issue or not, turning a little contraption in his hands as he turned the pros and cons along the gears in his head. He was adorable when he was thinking over problems. Jimmy didn’t even care that this particular problem was himself, not when Tango’s red eyes squinted slightly and his lips twisted up around the fangs that barely peeked out. Jimmy always thought he was going to cut himself, but he never did.
Tango finally nodded. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Great.” Tango unmuted the tv. It was some wacky cartoon from before Jimmy was born. By how much, he wasn’t sure, but he vaguely recognized it as something one of his friends had merch of, so it couldn’t be too old.
Jimmy glanced to the side, confirmed the end table had a glass of juice for him (half hidden behind a fast-food cup of pop that had to be Tango’s—vampires and human food was like mild lactose intolerance and ice cream: okay in small amounts, usually with medicine on hand), and dismissed all thought to watch bright colors with heavy eyes. It was easier on both of them if Jimmy had something he could actively focus on without thinking. Half the time, despite his best efforts, he never even noticed when Tango made his move until he was pulling away and washing Jimmy’s blood down his throat.
They hung out like that for an episode or so before Tango shifted a few times, noticeably watching Jimmy out of the corner of his eyes, and Jimmy realized he messed up the routine. He was supposed to be sitting forward, so Tango could sneak behind him.
“Sorry,” Jimmy murmured. He laboriously planted his hands to sit up and was surprised when Tango stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“You stay there, sleepy boy,” Tango said with forced lightness. Jimmy didn’t want to make Tango do this from an angle Jimmy could see him, when that thought made Tango uncomfortable, or heaven—or hell—forbid, skip a meal anyway. Tango staved off Jimmy’s protests by swinging a leg around and straddling Jimmy’s lap.
Jimmy blinked at him in shock, more awake than he’d been all day.
Normally when Tango drank, his position behind Jimmy meant “getting cozy”, as Tango put it; often with Tango’s legs on either side of Jimmy’s hips and holding Jimmy to his chest—an intimate position to be sure, and one Jimmy secretly relished—but Jimmy felt there was a world of difference between that and sitting on his lap.
Tango shifted, probably getting comfortable, pinning Jimmy to the couch with a single hand and not looking Jimmy in the eyes until he decided he was good and settled. When he did look at Jimmy, it was with poorly concealed nervousness.
Jimmy forced himself to relax the rest of the way. “If you insist.” Jimmy gave him a reassuring smile. Tango smiled back. Jimmy could feel him relaxing and he shifted again.
“Okay. Okay, I’ll have my little drinky-drink, you just keep watching tv,” Tango encouraged. Jimmy nodded and slid his gaze past Tango. A trio of dog-cat people questioned train-goers about a mystery. Jimmy couldn’t pay attention though, even when one of the characters went nuts interrogating himself. Not with Tango’s campfire-yellow hair in the corner of his vision, not with his deceptively light weight on Jimmy’s thighs, not with those hands cradling his jaw and neck to draw sharp teeth and parted lips close.
Tango paused, close enough for Jimmy to feel his breath if he was the type to breathe. Calculating where best to bite and getting his venom ready. Jimmy was very aware of every point of contact, how fast his heart was sending blood on its way, and of Tango’s body nearly pressed to his. How that mouth would soon be fastened on his neck, how Tango’s clever brain would surely notice that Jimmy’s pulse was faster than his exhaustion should have allowed, how Jimmy already wanted this to be the new normal position.
“Watching the tv?” Tango whispered.
Jimmy’s eyes guiltily jumped back to the screen. The trio held out a tied dog to a man, and it attacked him when he untied it. Was this still part of the mystery?
Tango laughed quietly, the sound requiring enough air Jimmy felt it puff over his skin. He shivered. Tango ran cold, but that wasn’t the reason behind it.
“If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine,” Tango soothed. He started to lean back. Jimmy’s heart jumped in his throat and he grabbed Tango’s knee. Tango paused.
“I’m fine,” Jimmy had to fight to not sound desperate. “You can go ahead.”
“You sure? Your heart’s going all pitter-patter,” Tango said.
“Yeah. It’s just weird. You—the new… seating. That’s all, I’ll get used to it,” Jimmy said quickly.
He must have sounded normal enough, because Tango leaned in again. He didn’t make Jimmy move his hand so he left it there, resisting the urge to run it along Tango’s leg and to look at what little he could see of Tango again. The tv turned into a blur of color and noise as everything Tango sharped into needle-like clarity.
Jimmy heard Tango lick his thumb, and only experience and focus told Jimmy when he swiped Jimmy’s neck, the venom in Tango’s saliva numbing Jimmy’s skin instantly. He never felt when Tango’s lips closed on his pulse point or when his fangs pierced skin. The only sign Jimmy had was the gentle push-pull of blood in his veins as Tango sucked it out. Occasionally Tango’s hands would shift, guiding Jimmy into a better angle, not unlike a make-out, or his lips nudged past the numbness border, sending tingles through Jimmy. Jimmy breathed as slowly and evenly as he could. He felt like he did when Tango bit him for the first time: totally unprepared for feeling so open and vulnerable and like he was about to get wrecked in the best way possible.
That last one never happened. Jimmy’s least favorite part of this was the wrong footedness when Tango stopped, even though he knew it was never meant to be anything more. The way Tango acted, one might think vampires didn’t even have numbing venom glands in their spit.
Jimmy would like Tango to apply his venom directly with his mouth. Or, even better, just bite him flat-out. Someday. When Tango finally got the message Jimmy was perfectly okay with being dinner.
Jimmy’s eyes drooped again. Tango should be finishing—there. Jimmy felt a cloth press to his neck, catching what little blood would slip past the clotting solution also in Tango’s saliva. Ice in the fast food cup rattled as Tango grabbed it.
At some point, Jimmy had gone back to staring at Tango. Tango’s head was still ducked but he glanced up when he got the straw in his mouth and caught Jimmy in the act.
Tango’s eyes widened. Jimmy felt like he should say something, but he couldn’t think of anything, so he just kept watching Tango. Tango gave him a nervous smile.
“You good there, sleepy boy?”
Tango’s teeth were red. With Jimmy’s blood. That was Jimmy’s blood stuck in the grooves of Tango’s usually pristine white teeth. It was the same color as Tango’s eyes. It was unfair how hot it was.
Tango covered his mouth and ducked his head, quickly draining his pop. Jimmy felt a burst of exasperated affection and he squeezed Tango’s leg in support. Tango paused, blinking at his hand. He chuckled and uncovered his mouth—his teeth now washed clean—to pat Jimmy’s hand.
“Thanks, Jim. Now drink your juice.”
Tango passed Jimmy the cup. Jimmy needed a second try to get the straw in his mouth. Partly because yes, Tango drinking always made him tired even on his best days, partly because Tango was still sipping his own drink on Jimmy’s lap, hand on Jimmy’s.
When Jimmy drained the cup and managed to set it back on the end table, Tango spoke again. “Feeling okay?”
“Mhm!” Jimmy gave him a tired but eager smile.
“Good, good,” Tango smiled back. Then his eyes widened and he slipped off Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy nearly protested. He liked Tango there.
“So! Uh, this is yours.” Tango waved a fifty in front of Jimmy’s face.
“You don’t have to pay me,” Jimmy mumbled his regular protest, though he took it like he always did. Some battles just weren’t worth fighting. “I like feeding you.” Oops, he didn’t mean to say that.
Tango just laughed. “Uh huh. How’s the ranch budget coming along?”
Jimmy grinned at the thought of their ranch. It wasn’t theirs yet, Jimmy still had to decide which one to buy, but he’d been putting money toward his own ranch for years, and every one of Tango’s unnecessary payments went into the budget.
“One more week.”
Tango’s jaw dropped. “Hepgahhek, one week? That close?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy nodded eagerly. Tango settled against the cushions smugly.
“And how much longer would be it if I didn’t pay you?”
Jimmy scowled. Tango laughed at him, swirled the ice around, and decided he was done with his drink. He briefly leaned over Jimmy to drop it on the table.
“You still want to join me?” Jimmy asked hopefully. Tango had mentioned working on a ranch when he was alive, and when Jimmy told him of his dream, Tango had gone off about all his fond memories and silly stories with a wistful look.
Tango raised an eyebrow at him. “You want a blood-sucking, sunlight-fearing vampire on your ranch?”
Jimmy slung an arm around Tango, drawing another squeaky noise out of him. “It’s our ranch. And I always want you with me.” He cupped Tango’s jaw, resting his thumb against a fang, and his voice dropped with seriousness. “I don’t think you understand how I feel about you.”
Tango was perfectly still. Even for being undead, still was not a common state for Tango. He was always fidgeting with something or looking around. Jimmy stared into wide red eyes and wondered if he crossed a line.
Tango nudged Jimmy’s hand away and blew a puff of air. Jimmy thought he had crossed a line.
“Always is a long time.”
Yet Jimmy was too tired and too far along to keep his mouth shut. “It’s not long enough.”
Tango smiled at him and wound his fingers through the hand he pushed away.
“Then you got yourself a partner, partner.”
Jimmy beamed. He could have kissed Tango then and there, but Tango let him go and stood up. He wiggled the fast-food cup.
“I’ll just throw-ificate this away.”
Jimmy nodded and pretended that he wasn’t incredibly disappointed. He knew that by the time Tango came back, his courage would be gone. Maybe next time. Maybe after they got the ranch. Maybe someday, just not today.
That was fine. Tango had dared to try something new that Jimmy showed he was fine with. Whether Jimmy got up his courage next time or next year, at least there was a chance this “new” could be “normal”. Jimmy could be satisfied with that, for now.