Written back in Novemember for Starparty on Livejournal.

"I don't see what the problem is Frances." Angelo arched an eyebrow uncertainly as he looked across the vehicle to where Frances was sitting in the passenger seat. Sulking.

"Well, of course you don't. You're not the one who has to do it!" Frances crossed his arms over his chest angrily, before favoring Angelo with a glare. Honestly, for someone who was taller and looked more mature than Angelo, Frances could carry on with the best of the kids out there when throwing a tantrum. The fact that he had the entire Biology department that he worked in fooled by his cool, composed and collected demeanor only made his tantrums that much funnier. Hell, half the grads and the majority of the undergrads would stop by from week to week to tell Angelo to lay off on their innocent and pure hearted Frances just a little since the man obviously was too sensitive to understand that Angelo's joking was meant with the best of intentions.

He was half tempted to spend a lecture detailing all the asinine stunts Frances had pulled on him. After a power point presentation complete with evidence and pictures, maybe they'd get a clue.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't vampires been doing this for years? Centuries even." If looks could kill, Angelo would have burst into flames at that little comment. As it was, Frances slouched down in the seat to glower at the glove compartment. Given that his 6'4" frame barely fit in the compact car as it was, Frances's knees were practically hitting the roof.

Angelo's mum had warned him that vampires could be a bit on the stubborn side. And Angelo had long since determined that she was the queen of the understatement.

"No," Frances stopped before starting again. "Yes. Look, that's beside the point." He shook his head in frustration, some of the strands of blond falling out of the ponytail at the base of his neck. "The point is, I'm not doing it."

"Frances, the blood bank is halfway across down and you've been drooling on that seat for the last half hour. Besides, don't vampires like being bonded to their lovers through blood or some such nonsense?"

"One, I have not been drooling on the precious faux fuzz seats of your ultra tiny toy car. And two, urban legend."

"From the middle ages?" Angelo snorted. "Sure, why not." Not that he'd ever admit it to a single soul, but he was a little hurt that Frances didn't think his blood good enough. He'd guzzle down gallons of a complete stranger's, but Angelo's straight from the vine as it were, was just not good enough. Scowling, he weaved in and out of traffic, taking perverse pleasure in the small yelp that Frances made as their car turned a corner sharply and he was jostled from the window and into Angelo's shoulder.

"I don't freaking care what they did in the middle ages," Frances told him adamantly. "I don't live in the middle ages. Neither do you, if you've bothered to notice. No self respecting anyone goes around sucking other people's blood for nourishment anymore. Even the higher level demons have decided to resort to syringes and the like. It's just easier. Cleaner."

"Oh no, you can not be serious." He was worried about it getting a little messy? This, from the vampire who couldn't seem to actually get his food from his fork to his mouth without it taking a detour to his shirt. In fact, glancing over, Frances fangs were poking out, halfway down to his chin with large globs of saliva starting to drip off of them. It was like having a lover who occasionally turned into a drooling St. Bernard.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Frances muttered aloofly.

"You're sprouting fangs, you're so hungry. Just take a nibble, Frances. No harm, no foul."

"It's gross," Frances mumbled in a small voice.

"My blood is gross?" Angelo ground out, hurt and angry at the same time. Jeez, they'd seen each other naked and exchanged bodily fluids more times than Angelo could count, but his blood was gross to Frances?!

"Yes," Frances said bluntly, and Angelo couldn't contain the loud growl grumbling in his chest as he tailgated the person in front of him. "No!" Frances yelped as they took another sharp turn. "No, I mean all blood is gross. It's positively disgusting. It oozes out of orifices and then there's the crunching sound that your fangs make when you bite down and then it's all slimy and squishy, except a little stringy at the same time when you get a mouth full of tendon instead of the blood vessel, and even then the blood vessels are chewy. And oh my god, please don't make me do it, Angelo. It's vile."

"You're squeamish," Angelo said flatly in disbelief.

"I can't help it, blood gives me the willies." Frances shivered visibly.

"But you're a vampire." Angelo pointed out the obvious.

"Yes, and I'll drink my blood out of a glass just like any other civilized person out there."

Stopping at a stop light, Angelo turned to look at him, amused beyond reason. "You slay me, Frances," he managed before stealing a quick kiss.

Frances turned an unnatural shade of red as he pushed Angelo away and gestured to the now green light. "Just for that, no chew toys for you on the next full moon," he muttered sullenly. But Angelo wasn't too worried.

After all, the fingers of Frances's left hand were firmly entwined with the right ones of his.