episode 5

Mitchell has noticed this about human beings, that they tend to believe in their own invincibility even when all evidence around them points to the contrary.

And he’s never met anyone more human than Anders.

Morning light shines through the window onto the hotel bed. He can hear the sounds of shower water running in the bathroom; Anders had woken before him and gone in to wash up. Mitchell lounges with his arms around his pillow, blinking at the infrared images the patterns of light from the window burn temporarily into his retinas. It is somewhat uncomfortable for him, as he closes his eyes and the pattern of the windowpanes show up as bright purple squares on the insides of his eyelids, complete with the dark bump of the window’s latchkey on the right edge.

Uncomfortable, but not nearly as painful as it would have been a few years ago when he was a fully blooded vampire, feeding regularly.

The snowstorm is over, and the sun is bright. This is at least one advantage they have over Herrick if he is looking for them. Most of the Bristol coven are young and won’t be able to handle all this sunlight, especially as it will be reflecting off fresh snow. And Mitchell knows Anders will want to be out today, out with people, out with the frivolity of Christmas shoppers and the sights of the season even though neither of them is religious. During the day, if they stay in crowded areas they will probably be all right. And it occurs to Mitchell that since there is a tradition of gift giving this time of year there is something he’d like to get for Anders…

...but there is something else he’d like to give him first, as he finally rolls his long limbs out of bed, grabs a condom and the bottle of lube and makes his way to the sounds of running water.

Anders is standing under the warm water with his eyes closed, leaning against the shower wall with his hands spread on either side of the faucets, occasionally reaching to turn the cold down further to maintain the heat since the hot water is steadily running out. He feels Mitchell slide in behind him and press close against him.

“Mornin’.” Mitchell mumbles into his ear in a voice still deep and rough from sleep. Anders hums in response, not even opening his eyes as he feels the vampire’s arms wrap around him and hold him gently, his lips nuzzling in the crook of his neck. They stand together like that for a long moment, the warm water pooling in the pocket created by Mitchell’s forearms pressed against Anders’ chest and spilling down in soft splashes onto the floor.

Anders turns to face Mitchell, pushing one hand into the space between the brunet’s upper arm and chest, the other reaching up to trace a strand of wet black curl plastered against Mitchell’s beautiful jawline. Pure affection radiates down at him from the almond brown eyes, crinkled at the edges from the contented feline smile on the full lips. Anders cannot imagine at this moment that the tall man before him could ever possibly have harmed anyone. For Mitchell’s part, every moment he spends with Anders this way stitches something back together inside him that had torn open, that he’d never thought he could repair.

They leave it like that for a time, needing no words, their foreheads falling slowly together as they rest themselves in this place that feels so safe...Anders’ mouth reaches for Mitchell first, gently capturing his bottom lip. They tilt their heads and give the kiss proper attention, but still very slow. The warm mist keeps their lips wet and they slide against each other pleasantly, their heat slowly rising until Mitchell finally reaches down and turns the water off.

“I’ll get cold…” Anders whines, but Mitchell turns him around and draws him back against him, reaching for the lube and adding some generously to his hand.

“No you won’t.” He whispers with a hint of humor, and wraps his lubed hand around Anders’ shaft and slides firmly up and down it, playing carefully around the tip with his thumb as the organ hardens in his grasp. Anders lets out a deep sigh and tips his head back against Mitchell’s shoulder in complete submission, reaching his hand up to tangle his fingers in dark wet curls. Mitchell takes Anders’ other hand and brings it behind them, anchoring it to a steel safety bar there, whispering, “hold on now…”

Anders whimpers and swears softly as Mitchell takes his time with him, lightening his touch as his cock grows hard, using his other hand to stroke his chest and side. He finally gets the lube again and coats his other hand, then reaches around and underneath Anders, feeling his way to the muscular opening there and gently inserting one digit while never stopping his stroking attention to the blond’s cock.

Anders’ breath hitches and then lengthens into a full throated moan as Mitchell inserts a second finger and probes inside, reaching and fluttering against the warm inner walls, now holding Anders’ body firmly between his two working hands.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your long arms?” says Anders shakily, feeling Mitchell smile against his neck. He pulls his fingers out carefully, and it only takes the brunet a moment to roll a condom onto his own very rigid shaft and reposition himself. He wraps an arm tightly around Anders’ waist and lifts him slightly, sliding downwards and bracing his own legs against the floor to slowly push himself into the blond until he has filled him completely. He stays there and does not move for a moment; they are both breathing hard now and Mitchell can feel Anders’ heart beating fast, but knows that this time it is not from fear.

“Are you all right?”

“God, yes.”

“Want more?”

“mmm hmm..” Anders’ reaches back to grasp Mitchell’s hips and pulls him closer in answer. Mitchell guides both of his hands back to the steel safety bar behind them and anchors him there, then wraps both his arms around Anders’ body and begins to ****** into him slowly. The blond rolls his hips against him, his feet pushing against the floor trying to bring Mitchell deeper.

“nnngh, faster, please, faster…”

Keeping their bodies together, Mitchell abruptly flips them around so Anders is facing the wall, the vampire’s body pressing him hard into the tiles, his hands and arms covering Anders’ hands and arms in a splayed position, his cheek pressed against Anders’ cheek turned sideways. But before he fulfills Anders’ request for more speed, the brunet wraps a protective hand around the blonde's cock to shield it from the ungiving wall…

Then Mitchell takes full advantage of newfound leverage.

The speed and rhythm of it drives colors into Anders’ head, and he is vaguely aware that they are both vocalizing loudly. His soft body is pushed and pounded against cold tiles but Anders feels none of the harshness as Mitchell seems to be trying to press every inch of himself so closely to him that he might merge into him, temple to temple, hip to hip, thigh against thigh. The blond is penetrated so deeply his feet leave the floor, and something strong and sweet stabs at his heart as he listens to Mitchell’s ragged cries so close to his ear that he almost mistakes them for his own.

It does not take them long to finish, and they slide together bonelessly to the floor of the shower, eyes closed, arms and legs tightly entwined, breathing hard. It takes some time for them to calm, for their bodies to start to notice how hard the floor is, how cramped their legs feel, how annoying the drip of the faucet is becoming.

“Okay,“ says Anders finally, patting Mitchell affectionately, “now I am starting to get cold.”

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Mitchell has dressed in the only clothes he has with him and sits in the armchair in the corner of the room, watching with a bemused expression as Anders fusses over himself. The blond finishes tucking the dark blue dress shirt into his pants and draws the leather belt to the tension he wants it, fastening the buckle around his trim waist. Mitchell isn’t certain but he thinks Anders is a little thinner than the last time he saw him. Still muscular though, still beautifully made and shamelessly conscious of it.

Mitchell resists asking him if he actually even owns a T shirt or pair of jeans.

“So where do you want to go today?” smiles Mitchell, crossing one long leg over the other and folding his hands behind his head.

“oh, I’ve got a few ideas…” says Anders absently as he runs a comb through his beard and tames his curls by running a bit of gel through it with his fingers. Abruptly he turns and leaps on Mitchell, pinning him into the armchair with his knees and running the remains of the gel through the brunet’s unruly curls.

“Oi!!!” cries Mitchell, batting his hands away. Anders laughs because the vampire’s efforts are too late. Mitchell growls in frustration, looking at the blond from under forbidding eyebrows as the blond merrily continues to stroke the black curls with both hands.

Anders rests his forehead against those dark brows and speaks quietly. “I’m taking you to a men’s clothing store today.”

Mitchell’s jaw sets. “Like Hell you are.”

“Like hell I’m--”

Mitchell’s mobile rings.

It stops everything. They both straighten up, staring down at the phone ringing and vibrating fitfully on the nightstand.

Anders climbs off of Mitchell as they both approach the mobile cautiously. Mitchell shakes himself, trying to remain rational.

“It’s George’s ringtone, babe, no worries.”

Anders looks at him, his smile fragile. “cool...put him on speaker.”

Mitchell presses the phone to speaker and speaks.

“George?”

“Hey mate! You guys havin’ a good time then?”

The two men exhale slightly, both doing their best to conceal that they were worried in the least. Anders runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Mitchell drops to his haunches and smiles in relief at his friend’s affable voice.

“Yeah, yeah we’re good. How are you mate?”

“Well, ya missed a great episode of “the Real Hustle” last night. ‘Did the whole show on those mediums who convince people they can contact their dead relatives. First time Annie actually watched it with me. She was really worked up about it; sorry you missed out on that.”

“Oh, no shit!”

Anders listens with a rueful smile as Mitchell banters with his flatmate. So that’s what friendship sounds like. He isn’t jealous exactly, but somehow listening to them makes him feel a bit homesick.

No, that can’t be possible…

“So Annie and I were wondering if you’d both join us for dinner tonight? Would that be all right with your plans?”

Mitchell looks questioningly at Anders, who shrugs and nods.

“Sure mate, what time?”

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They spend the day in the most crowded areas of Bristol, walking through narrow streets filled with people and lined with shops that have maxed their budgets on decorations to entice shoppers to buy from them. The sun is bright and the snow lies in high drifts everywhere, so white and reflective that every human Mitchell sees shields their eyes with sunglasses, same as Anders and himself. They blend in seamlessly, eating lunch in a small restaurant that Mitchell selects for its large windows that let sunlight stream in on their table as they eat french onion soup and crisp green salads with spiced oil and vinegar.

Mitchell still will not drink anything unless it comes to the table in a sealed bottle, and still has not had any alcohol. It hadn’t escape Anders’ notice that he’d left his Guinness untouched the night before. He decides not to press the issue, smiling indulgently at the vampire as he drinks a Perrier. Mitchell is describing the first time he and George had encountered Annie and recounting how startled and outraged the werewolf had been at first at the idea of a ghost living in his flat with him, a ghost who could pop around his private living environment at will, which had not been something George had been comfortable with at first.

Inevitably they find themselves in front of John Anthony’s on Philadelphia street. Anders whips his sunglasses off and grabs Mitchell by the wrist and begins to pull.

Mitchell pulls off his own shades and pulls back,firmly resisting.

“No, Anders...NO!”

“Oh, come on Mitchell…”

“There is no way I am going in there.”

“One outfit. Please. A Christmas present for me?”

Mitchell folds his arms over his chest and glowers at him.

“Anders, that place is wall to wall mirrors. I can’t go in there...I’d start a mass panic!”

Anders shakes his head. “I looked it up. There are only a few in there, easy to avoid, and Bragi can cover for you if anything happens.”

Mitchell’s eyebrows raise. “You looked it up?”

Anders grins broadly. Mitchell’s mouth twists as he looks at him, at the sparkling blue eyes and turned up mouth that fully deepens the dimple on one side of his face.

He widens his own eyes so the whites show all the way around his irises.

“No. Jacket. No. Tie.”

Anders laughs triumphantly and drags Mitchell into the store.

“And if anyone comes near me with a tape measure I will wrap it around their neck!”

The first floor has a more casual selection, with shelves of crisply folded designer jeans and racks of collared shirts. Mitchell notices this as Anders pulls him up to the second floor where the more formal wear hangs in silken, wool and rayon bunches of grey and navy blue. Headless mannequins garbed in Armani perch ominously above the displays, their torsos entwined with white christmas lights, scarves of red and green fabric hang from the ceiling.

A primly dressed sales clerk with greying hair approaches them almost immediately. Anders nods smoothly at him and shoves Mitchell quickly into a dressing room before the man can notice the vampire’s missing reflection in the three-paneled mirror inside it, closing the door on the vampire and telling him just wait here...

And Mitchell turns to face three floor-length mirrors that show no image of him at all.

But Anders works fast, making good use of the eager clerk (and Bragi as well, Mitchell suspects,) and manages to bring him a surgically small selection of pants and shirts that fit him perfectly, and don’t actually make him sick.

Finally Mitchell looks down at a pair of black silk pants that fit his long legs as though they’d been tailored, and buttons up an equally fitting shirt of shimmering dark green. He looks up at Anders whose blue eyes are his only mirror. The god’s face is framed in the doorway of the dressing room, holding the door open just enough to see in but not allow the nosey clerk to intrude.

Anders’ expression is so neutral that Mitchell thinks the outfit must be a failure. But he’s misjudged one emotion for another, as he finds out when Anders slips into the dressing room with him to let him know exactly how much he does indeed approve of the way the green in the shirt brings out the green flecks in Mitchell’s eyes, and how very easy the buttons are to undo. They almost get themselves in deep trouble when the clerk comes to investigate the rather suggestive shuffling and moaning sounds coming from the room but when Anders innocently opens the door fully clothed and appears to be the only one there, the clerk eagerly goes out to find the other dark haired young man Bragi informs him went to look at the accessory display.

As they pass down through the first floor of the store Mitchell catches Anders by the arm and orients him towards the shelves of blue jeans.

Anders rounds on him. “NO.”

Mitchell smiles, gets behind him and pushes him relentlessly towards a dressing room. “Oh yeah.”

“Hands off me you gothic Dracula!”

He turns around to see the most charming and beguiling expression he has ever seen on any human face.

“Trust me? Please?”

Mitchell turns out to be just as efficient as Anders in his selections, and a short while later the blond regards himself critically in a pair of light blue stonewashed jeans and a black, long sleeved crew-necked shirt of soft stretchy cotton.

Now it is Mitchell’s turn to poke his smiling face into the dressing room. “Your *** looks great in those.”

Anders raises an eyebrow. “So...what, it didn’t look great before?”

They leave wearing their purchases, their old clothing folded into a store bag. The sun is starting to near the horizon, and Mitchell is relieved that he’d chosen a time to meet George and Annie for dinner that takes them off the streets early. Anders laments leaving the streets of Bristol just as the night life is beginning; he prefers to enjoy city life by night, in the pubs and bars. He knows Mitchell does, too. But he can see the vampire bristling again as he had the evening before, casting surreptitious glances into alleyways or dark doorways that they pass.

They hail a taxi and Mitchell tells the driver to head for the corner of Henry and Windsor Terrace. Settling into the cab’s back seat the brunet finally seems to relax, and Anders reaches for his hand, still clad in the fingerless gloves. He hadn’t been able to talk him into a new, intact pair of leather ones, though not for lack of trying.

“Okay, mate?”

Mitchell brings Anders’ hand to his lips. “Yeah,” he says, smiling and pressing a kiss to Anders’ thumb. “Thanks for a nice day.”

The blond leans in, letting his hand slip down between Mitchell’s wool coat and the new silk shirt, teasing his fingers up the brunet’s spine. “Still in for a nice night, yes?” he whispers. They enjoy the ride to the pink house, which is disappointingly short, but happily uneventful.

Anders had told Mitchell he’d take the danger. But he wonders, not for the first time, just how much danger they are really facing.

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