the vampire and the aspiring writer (that might be a werewolf) go day drinking
(read part one ‘mike and an aspiring writer share a table at a coffee house’ here)
“Five languages?” Levi tries not to sound skeptical, Mike can tell, but he’s not very good at hiding his thoughts. Or maybe they’ve spent so much time together that Mike is coming to know him more intimately than either wants to acknowledge.
“Are you going to ask me to speak to you in one?” Mike inquires in German, finding small delight in the way Levi’s eyebrows raise, one fist coming to support his chin as he leans just the littlest bit over the table toward the vampire. In French then, Mike says, “I would give you anything you ask for.”
“What,” Levi drawls, one brow quirking, “did you say?”
“I was teasing you,” Mike answers in their shared English again. He’s lived in this version of America for so long that his speech is unaccented. It sounds like he’s lived his entire appearingly thirty-eight years on the Front Range. “Askin’ if you wanted me to say something.”
Levi chuckles at the irony and covers his grin with his coffee. Mike walks Levi back home, as far as Levi will allow, just to the edge of his district. He asks the noirette to call as soon as he hears about his submitted draft— they’ll go drinking either to celebrate or soothe.
They meet four days later for day drinking. Levi’s signing a deal on his first traditional publishing. Mike watches the blur of black fingernails tweeting out excitement, so he leans in close and uses his phone’s front facing camera to capture them together for the first time. He’s up to date with selfie culture, so he puts a ridiculously cute filter over them, giving them whiskers and cat ears. He captions it ‘so proud of my protégé on his first book deal!’ and when Levi gets the mention notification, Mike can hear the way his heart skitters and then pounds.
But it’s true. They’ve spent six months developing their professional relationship, altruistic at times when Levi needed so much more given to him, and symbiotic at others, discussing work at any and all hours, and most notably spending long hours side by side with only the clacking of keyboards in Mike’s quiet apartment. Levi’s roommates are not the silent types, and that’s all he’s ever said on the matter.
As secretive as Mike is, Levi proves his own equally. They understand where to push and pry and yield like they’ve been dancing this way for decades.
“Wanna see my party trick? If I went to parties.” Levi offers two hours in, too many cocktails in. He slurs a little, blinks a little long, lets his eyes wander a little more freely.
“Don’t I,” Mike replies. Levi instructs him to take out his mobile and hold it on his flat hand. As soon as he does so, the device simply… disappears. As if it were there and Mike looked away, it’s vanished without any sensation, but Mike kept his eyes on it. He swears. Levi laughs more openly than Mike’s ever heard, and just like that, his phone is back as if it never went anywhere.
“Cool, huh?” Levi leans in like they’re sharing an inside joke, like he didn’t just show Mike that he can rift. “I’ve always been able to do it since I was a kid. My mom taught me. I’ve never shown anyone.”
For a heart stopping moment, Mike can only think of prying past a reasonable amount for sitting in public. What other werewolf traits does the noirette possess? Is that deeply buried reality what drew Mike to him in the first place? Is Levi himself even aware?
“I’ll keep my lips sealed,” Mike finally manages to promise. Levi’s a little too loose and happy to have Mike try and pick him apart this afternoon. Maybe when he’s sober.
