I just pictured getting into a silly arguement with your vampire partner and then you get so petty that you go stand out in the sun so they can't get to you.
My hand slipped: (gn reader, f vampire, sfw)
"I can't believe you left the garlic out on the counter where I could smell it! Again!" she hissed, eyeing the offending bulb with glaring, scarlet irises. "You know how it affects my throat!"
"You said you wouldn't come in the kitchen anymore!" you fired back at her. "You get to drink any kind of blood you like -- I don't judge you for it -- and you said I could have the kitchen as my space where I get to have the things I like to eat."
"Yes, but you don't have to smell deer blood on my breath for a week after I go hunting!"
"God dammit, I just wanted some garlic bread, sweetheart," you practically sobbed. "I miss it, ok?"
"I don't see why I should have to pay for your -- where are you going?"
"I'm going outside. This is clearly not going anywhere and I need a minute."
"Get back here," she yelped as you flung open the back door and stepped out into a blazing August afternoon.
Crickets and insects filled the air around you with their raucous chorus from the grasses, and in the oak tree above you at the end of the garden, a pigeon cooed in a decidedly lacklustre voice, lamenting the cooler days yet to come.
You took a deep breath and let the sun's fierce heat prickle all up your bare arms. You'd never had an argument with Celine before, and with it being over something so petty as a stray bulb of garlic, you felt unnerved and off-kilter. After only a few minutes, you bit your lower lip and turned towards the back door of the house again, finding her sitting on the step, staring at you.
Her bare toes were tucked right up against the step as the creeping tide of daylight washed slowly towards her, and your heart lurched at the thought of it scorching her skin because she was too stubborn to go inside and wait for you both to cool off. Metaphorically. It was hot as Satan's balls out there.
"Celine," you breathed, knowing full well she would hear you, even at that distance.
She lowered her head, her thick, dark, curly hair falling in front of her face and her hands dropping to dangle listlessly in her lap.
With slow, measured steps, you returned to her and stood before her on the path, still separated from her by a wall of searing sunlight.
She looked up and met your gaze. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I overreacted. Keep your garlic. Keep everything that makes you human and everything I love about you and everything that you love. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry I wasn't more thoughtful about storing it so it doesn't waft around the house. I forgot how refined your senses are."
You held out your hand, letting the shadows cast by the house slide up your skin so she could safely hold your hand. Celine rose to her feet and drew you into the cool embrace of her arms. "I love you," she whispered into your hair as she cradled you close. "I love you so much."
She chuckled. "Yes, garlic and all. We did meet at Francesco's dinner party after all."
"That was an awful lot of garlic," you snickered. "Even for me."
