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They stood near each other in Mick's kitchen, but Mick had turned away. Josef couldn't read his body language from behind.
"Why did you do that?" Mick asked, voice low, arms crossed over his chest. He spoke over his shoulder at Josef, but didn't meet his gaze.
"Do what?"
Josef's light tone might fool others, but not Mick.
"You know what," Mick replied, turning to face Josef. "Simone. Offering her–"
"So you could eliminate her as–"
"Josef!" Mick threw his hands up and turned away, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
"Mick, you said–"
"I asked the wrong question," Mick turned back to face Josef again. "What I should have asked was, why do you always do that?"
"Always do what?"
"Simone. Your other freshies," Mick gestured helplessly. "You know I don't want to drink from humans–"
"Well, your non-fat soy vegan blood can hardly be called drinking," Josef interrupted, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"You know what I mean," Mick said sullenly. "You offer, and offer, and I always say no–" He strode away to the sofa.
"You didn't tonight," Josef pointed out reasonably. The faintest hint of a smirk quirked his lips but slowly faded, his eyes somber as he watched Mick walk away.
"You bit her before I could finish asking you not to." Mick sank down to his sofa, defeated. He put a hand to his head and closed his eyes.
Josef slowly moved into the living room, a concerned expression on his face. He maintained a cautious distance from Mick.
"So what you're saying is, you couldn't resist... so you took what I offered," Josef added quietly.
Mick looked up at Josef accusingly. "You knew I would, once you bit her."
Josef's gaze slid away from Mick's. "You've resisted before," he replied, brushing imaginary crumbs from his lapels, moving no closer.
He put both hands in his pockets and shrugged, the picture of casual elegance.
"Not... always," Mick shook his head. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands.
"Maybe you should ask yourself why you can't resist the scent of living blood, once it's been spilled," Josef asked softly.
Mick looked up sharply. "Don't even go there, Josef," he began fiercely, meeting Josef's eyes. "You know damned well–"
"It's a legitimate question," Josef murmured, refusing to drop his gaze first. His relaxed posture was at odds with the seriousness of his tone.
"That's not my question," Mick replied, looking away. He gazed at the flames in his crystal fireplace. His expression softened along with his voice. "Why do you always do that to me?" he asked again, a hint of desperation in his voice.
Josef opened his mouth, hesitated, and shut it. His reflexive shrug implied carelessness, but he couldn't muster that in his voice. He regarded Mick sadly and watched his distant stare into the flames.
"I'm sorry, Mick. I just–" Josef paused, trying to find better words, and came up empty. "I'm sorry."
He stepped carefully to the opposite end of Mick's sofa and sat down. He had apologized. And he actually was sorry.
Mick's voice was rough. "But you'll do it again. You always do."
Josef considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. Mick glanced over at him, surprised at the silent admission.
"It's just–" Josef hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He edged closer to Mick. "You suffer," he finally said, meeting Mick's eyes. "I see it, Mick. But the only thing I can think to do, to ease it, is..." He trailed off.
They stared mutely at each other for a long moment.
"Yeah," Mick finally sighed. He leaned back and heaved a long sigh.
"Mick," Josef said thickly. "I'm not trying to undermine your... good intentions." He moved closer, had to make Mick understand. "It's just–" Josef began, his voice rawer, "I can't stand to see–"
"Josef. Please." Mick reached out and patted Josef's knee. "I get it." He sighed. "I believe you." His hand lifted slightly, hesitated, then settled once more on Josef's knee.
Josef's tension eased a bit. A telltale warmth uncurled in his chest, a faint tingle began at the roots of his fangs. "No matter how misguided, Mick–"
The hand on his knee squeezed. "Stop," Mick said softly, opening his eyes and meeting Josef's. "I said, I get it. It's all right."
Josef put his hand over Mick's hand, still on his knee. "Sure. Until I do it again," Josef muttered, shaking his head.
Mick smiled ruefully. "Yeah," he said, simple acceptance in his voice. "Until you do it again."
“Yeah,” Josef murmured. He knew he didn't look guilty – in fact, he knew that over the centuries he had perfected a look of pure innocence. But he felt guilty, now, a feeling both unfamiliar and rankling. "Damn. Wait... what did you...?"
Mick chuckled. He refused to meet Josef's eyes, but his hand, under Josef's, squeezed Josef's knee.
“You bastard," Josef murmured wonderingly. “You...”
"Well, if I kept accusing, you'd deny and deny–"
"So you agree with me, to throw off my whole defense." Josef's voice was low and warm.
He slowly entwined their fingers. Mick did not stop him. Josef hesitated, then squeezed Mick's hand.
"You can be predictable, sometimes," Mick replied. He smiled wryly and their eyes met.
"What the hell am I going to do with you?" Josef grumbled affectionately.
Mick shrugged. Josef's eyes narrowed at the evasive gesture, but their hands still clasped on Josef's thigh.
"Well?" Josef prodded gently, voice husky, leaning closer to Mick. "What should I do with you?"
It was as close as Josef came to directly asking. He preferred to leave it up to Mick. He had learned centuries before he ever met Mick that people (especially men; especially vampires) frequently resisted outright sexual aggression (often vigorously), but responded favorably to gentle persuasion. Especially if they thought it was their idea. And their choice.
Especially Mick.
Mick slowly pulled Josef's hand up. He pressed his cheek against the back of it. His eyes shone, his nervous tongue darted quickly to moisten his lips. Josef now felt the slight tremble of Mick's grip on his hand–
Their fingers disengaged as Josef slid his hand to cup Mick's jaw. Mick gripped Josef's forearm. He turned to completely face Josef, who felt his own arousal rise helplessly.
Josef leaned slowly in. Mick mirrored him. Their faces were scant inches apart. Cheeks flushed, blinking too frequently, Mick's hand held Josef's forearm too tightly. Josef slowly slid his hand from Mick's jaw to the back of his neck. He searched Mick's face.
Mick licked his lips again and met and avoided Josef's eyes a few times in rapid succession, before looking down. Josef's calm gaze never moved from Mick's face. His peripheral vision took in Mick's sudden, nervous fidgeting.
Their mouths were close enough to feel each other's breath. Josef squeezed the strong muscles at the nape of Mick's neck to soothe and calm his friend.
The sprawling city below Mick's balcony, its dim noise of traffic, sirens, and the world beyond, faded away… leaving only this room, only this moment, only this warmth and closeness.
Josef raised his left hand deliberately, and Mick angled his head, preparing to meet the lips so close, so close, to his own. But Josef's hands moved back to slowly loosen his tie.
It was Mick who closed the distance between them, who grabbed Josef's suit by the lapels, and pulled their mouths roughly together.