Archive of Our Own

Guillermo hangs up the phone and groans, putting his head in his hands. Of course. Of course this would happen to him.

There’s a knock on the door, and he turns from the bookshelf he was dusting to see Nandor poke his head in. “Everything okay? I heard the sad noises.”

“Yeah, I’m fine just— I’ve got to go visit my family.”

Nandor nods sagely. “Cemeteries can be lonesome places. I recommend bringing a partner to copulate with on the—”

“No! No that’s— geez that’s dark, um, no. My family is alive. Unfortunately.” Guillermo slides his phone back into his pocket, frowning. “We just have our issues.”

Nandor crosses his arms. “It is very awful of you to not be appreciative of having an alive family, you know.”

“It was a joke,” he grumbles. “I’m going to need a day off. Or ten.”

Nandor is immediately whining, previous stance forgotten. “What am I going to do for ten days?”

“You’re a big vampire,” Guillermo snarks back, edging past him. “Figure it out.”

Nandor’s eyebrows shoot up. “How dare you take that tone with— Guillermo! Guillermo! Come back here, I am trying to reprimand you! Guillermo!”

Nandor is leaning against the curtained doorway, bumping his head back against the jamb over and over again as he listens to Guillermo just bitch.

“Memo, why have you not gotten a wife yet?” Guillermo imitates. “Memo, you should try the same diet Alexia is on. Memo, I saw Jeremiah in the supermercado yesterday, you two used to be such good friends—”

“Yeesh, alright, I get it,” Nandor finally snaps out, holding his hands over his ears. “You can stop with the voices now. It sounds insufferable.”

“It is insufferable!” Guillermo shoves another sweater into his overnight bag. “But Victor had to go and get engaged and plan the wedding for the same fucking weekend so here I am! Guilt-tripped into helping for a cousin I don’t even really know!”

“Call in sick,” Nandor deadpans. “Or tell them you’re dead. We can hold a funeral.”

Guillermo actually cracks a smile at that, shaking his head. “No, no, I have to go. It will literally just be worse if I don’t show up.” He pauses, then turns to look at Nandor, still leaning miserably against the doorway. “Unless that was a really vague way to say you’ll just turn me, in which case let’s do that immediately.”

“It wasn’t. Sneaky thing.”

“Worth a shot.” Guillermo does a quick count of the clothes in his bag, then yanks his charger out of the wall. “This should be enough.”

“You don’t even have a lounging gown!”

He sighs, then looks at Nandor fondly. “I’m going to miss you, actually. Which is sort of sad to say.”

“Yowch.” Nandor puts a single hand over his own chest. “That hurts. I won’t miss you at all.”

“Uh-huh. Say that again when your hair is a tangled mess in like, thirty minutes.” He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder as Nandor touches worriedly at his own hair. “You have my number, right? You’re not going to do anything dumb?”

Nandor scoffs. “When have I ever done anything dumb?”

Guillermo raises an eyebrow as a response.

“I will not get myself killed, how about that?”

“I’ll take it. Please be careful. And if you need me, call me immediately.” He steps around Nandor, then stops and turns back. “There’s blood in the fridge, by the way. You can microwave it.”

“Oh, yay. Microwaved blood,” Nandor says with zero emotion.

“What happened to ‘be grateful’?”

“I’m a vampire. Vampires do not have to be grateful.”

Guillermo rolls his eyes and waves goodbye, stepping out into the night, keys already jingling in his hand. It will be a good few hours’ drive to his tía’s house, enough time to get his nerves under control. Hopefully.

He throws his bag into the passenger seat, slamming the door before walking around to the driver’s seat, and that’s it. He’s on his way, windows rolled down, 2000s emo rock blaring, eyes on the road stretching out not far enough before him.

Gas station snacks are somehow both awful and exhilarating, and he’s gnawing somewhat angrily on gummy sharks when he takes his final exit. The house is just as he remembers it being: really big, really colorful, and really normal.

He hates it with a passion.

Guillermo takes a second to revel in the sunshine before grabbing his things and walking to the side of the house, with the iron trellis draped over the side. He takes a hold of it and begins his climb, well-aware that no one is going to let him inside. It’s the same way he’s had to take for years.

They left the window unlocked this time, at least.

He stumbles into the room and shuts the window behind him, the curtains closing as he retreats. With them goes the source of light in the room, and its plunged into pitch darkness. He fumbles around for the light cord hanging from the ceiling fan and yanks, but only feels a soft breeze.

“Mierda,” he grumbles to himself, groping farther until he finds the right cord and pulls. The shitty little light bulb illuminates the guest bedroom, furnished in a sweet little old lady’s absolute dream furniture.

He tosses his bag onto the pink quilted bed with zero remorse.

“Memo?” a voice calls out somewhere a floor down. “Is that you?”

“Sí,” he calls back, throwing open the door and heading down the hall. “Marco?”

“Polo!”

He hears footsteps running up the stairs and meets them halfway, almost stumbling directly into the arms of a giggling girl a bit older than him.

“My little Memo!” she cries out excitedly, pulling him into a big hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

“And I you,” he says back, trying and failing not to smile. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Too long. You go get washed up and I’ll make sure everyone is ready to meet in the dining room. Do you need anything for the room?”

“I’m good, gracias.” He watches her disappear quickly down the stairs and shakes his head, fully aware that his few moments of silence were gone, and would stay gone for the next however-many-days. “Lord help me,” he murmurs, going back into his room.

“Quit with the cursing,” Nandor says, wincing, and Guillermo screams. He’s throwing a stake before he can process it, and it’s only Nandor’s quick reflexes that save him. It embeds itself into the wall behind him, piercing lacy wallpaper.

“What are you doing here?!” Guillermo asks frantically.

“I stowed away in your bag! To support you!” Nandor flashes his fangs in what is probably meant to be a smile. “I will help you face your family!”

“No no no no no, you have to get out of here! Like, now!” Guillermo tries to grab him, but Nandor is faster and steps away.

“You should really be thanking me. Do you know what it was like to ride inside a clothing bag for an entire trip?” Nandor frowns. “It was very comfy, actually, but that is not the point.”

“Guillermo?” the same girl calls out. “Everything okay?”

Guillermo shoves Nandor into the closet, sliding the accordion doors closed. “I’m fine! Just saw a spider!”

She pokes her head back in and gives him a crooked smile. “Okay well, it’s much more afraid of you than you are of it.”

“Yes, Nana.”

“Now hurry up, you don’t want to be the last one down.”

The moment she’s out of earshot, Guillermo opens the closet and slides inside, suddenly chest-to-chest(ish) with Nandor. “Get back in my bag and when the sun sets, I need you gone,” he demands.

“No,” Nandor whispers back fiercely. “I will help you with your awful family that does not seem that awful!”

“I can handle it! You have to leave!”

“Ah, I see what this is,” Nandor says wisely, nodding. “You are afraid I will embarrass you. Well fear not! Families love me! In fact, I am going to introduce myself right now.”

“No no no— Nandor!” He grabs after retreating cloak and misses.

Guillermo runs after him, hands outstretched, but he’s throwing open a dividing door and his arms, smiling wide at the gathered crowd. “Hello!”

Guillermo stops cold, eyes wide, as the gathering seems to focus in on Nandor. “Run,” Guillermo whispers.

“What?”

“I said, Run!” Guillermo tries to position himself between Nandor and his family, but they’re out of their seats and hellbent on chasing down the vampire.

Nandor runs for his life, every turn of every corner leading him to another face, another fierce look. They herd him into a room, cornered, and he has half a moment to consider all the dumb choices he promised he wouldn’t make before a voice hesitantly says, “…Nandor?”

Nandor peeks open one eye, trying to find the source of the noise. “Gerald?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” He gulps, a bit confused. “I’m with Guillermo?”

“…oh my word, you aren’t. Memo, is this your master?”

Guillermo says No at the same time that Nandor says Yes, and the room breaks into thunderous laughter. Nandor can finally pick out faces, and the wild thing is, he knows some of these people.

“Guillermo,” he whispers urgently, finding him in the crowd and grabbing his arm. “Your family is—”

“They’re vampires, yeah, I know,” Guillermo grumbles back, looking every bit like he has fourteen different kinds of headaches. “Damage is done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they were—”

“Oh man,” Gerald says, one arm slung around Nandor’s shoulders, “if we had known Memo was bringing his little master along, we’d have put a coffin in the guest bedroom. We’ll get you something set up, don’t worry.”

“You are very kind,” Nandor responds easily. “It is alright that I stay?”

“The more the merrier! Victor is turning his fiancee this weekend, and we could use all the help we can get for the ceremony.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely! I’m very skilled with glitter, if you need—”

“They’re fine,” Guillermo bites out, grabbing Nandor and hauling him back. “If you will excuse us, I need to have a word with him.”

“With your master, you mean,” Gerald sasses back.

Guillermo does not give him the satisfaction of correcting himself out loud, just pulls Nandor through the rooms he had just been chased through, back to the stairs, back into the guest bedroom.

Nandor points to the stairwell. “They are all vampires.”

“Yes I know they are all vampires!” Guillermo practically yells. “Why did you think I didn’t want to come?! Why did you think I told you to leave?! It’s fucking embarrassing being the only human one left! They never stop teasing me about it!”

“…ah.”

“That woman you saw earlier? That’s my grandmother. We look the same age!”

“I thought you were descended from vampire slay—”

Guillermo clamps a hand over his mouth, looking around frantically. “I am,” he whispers urgently. “But on my mom’s side. This is my dad’s family. They don’t know that I have… you know.”

“Murdered,” Nandor supplies around the hand.

“Yeah. That. Let’s not— Let’s not tell them, okay?”

Nandor nods decisively, and the hand slides away. “You are my normal human familiar who I will be turning soon so they can all lay off, yes?”

Guillermo sighs. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Like I said, the damage’s been done. At this point, it might be best if you do stay.”

“I will be on your side,” Nandor promises solemnly, and Guillermo gives him a wry smile.

“Thanks. Nice to know someone is.” He suddenly frowns and reaches out. “C’mere, your hair is a mess.”

Nandor cranes his neck down to let Guillermo run his fingers through the tangles gently, and swears up and down he does not purr at the sensation.

When they re-enter the large dining room, they’re greeted with teasing grins and a few outstretched arms.

“Sorry ‘bout that, chulo, we thought you were dinner.” The vampire currently flashing his fangs at Nandor puts an arm around him, leading him to the table. “You smelled very human.”

“Yes well, I was stuck in laundry for a few hours,” Nandor comments amicably, accepting the chair he pulls out.

“You do smell very much like fresh linen breeze,” he teases, grabbing a wooden chair shorter than all the rest and sliding it beside Nandor’s. “Memo, come sit beside your master.”

Guillermo bristles, choosing to stand behind Nandor instead, a defiant look on his face.

“Come sit with me,” Nandor asks innocently, completely misreading the situation, and all eyes fall to Guillermo, who suddenly has no choice. He sits stiffly beside Nandor, entertaining himself with thoughts of slaying the entire room.

The lady from earlier — Abuela, Nandor remembers — puts a plate of bread before Guillermo, and a glass of blood before Nandor. Her smile is sweet and genuine, and there is a softness to her that shines in her eyes.

“Gracias, abuela,” Guillermo murmurs, and Nandor takes cue.

“Yes, grassy-ass, abuela,” he parrots, and there are a few snickers.

She laughs and pats Nandor’s hand. “You can call me abuela if you’d like, it’s okay. My name is Clementine, though.”

“My name is Nandor.” He takes her hand and kisses it, and Guillermo hides his face from the world. “You are radiant.”

She gives him a playful glare and takes her hand back, going to sit at the head of the table. “Well, chiquito, are you going to introduce everyone?”

Guillermo looks up from his hand. “I think you all know Nandor, it seems. Nandor, this is mi familia. My family.”

“Who are all vampires,” Nandor notes.

“Sí, who are all vampires.”

Abuela leans forward over the table. “It is tradition in our family to be turned after having children. We have been waiting on Guillermo here for a very long time.”

“I don’t want children,” Guillermo says immediately, like it’s force of habit at this point.

“Sí sí, we all know. Yet you still are not a vampire. And now we have the culprit right here.” Abuela flashes her fangs at Nandor. “Why have you not turned our Guillermo yet?”

Guillermo glances over at Nandor, quite enjoying the trapped look on his face. “Well, I just haven’t… gotten around to it.”

“Get around to it,” Abuela commands in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “That being said, let us turn our attention to the ceremony. Margaret, you have the flowers all ordered?”

“Yes,” another lady says, standing up. She’s short and strong-looking, with curly brown hair that seems to be trying to consume her face. She pushes it back roughly. “They should be here tomorrow.” She waves at Nandor. “Hola. I am Memo’s Aunt Margaret. I don’t remember meeting you before.”

“I would remember such a sweet face,” Nandor promises, and Guillermo kicks him under the table. They glare at each other briefly before Margaret is pulling a man up by his arm.

“This is his tío Francis, or just Frank. My husband.”

The man looks at Nandor with pursed lips, rubbing awkwardly at his beard. “Hello again, Nandor.”

“Frank,” Nandor smirks back, leaning his chin on his hand, and oh Guillermo recognizes the flirty face. “It’s been a while. Laszlo misses you.”

Margaret yanks him back down into his seat, and they exchange a very quiet and very heated argument. Guillermo mentally adjusts his ‘gay family member’ count, which had previously just been at one: himself.

“Avalon, have you procured enough blood?” Abuela Clementine barrels on.

“Working on it,” a younger lady says, texting on her phone and not paying much attention at all.

“Gerald, have you finished the plans for Memo?”

“Yep,” Gerald says, letting his p pop.

“Plans?” Nandor asks Guillermo, who sighs.

“I’m the only one who can go outside and set things up during the daylight hours. So they make a set of instructions for me to follow until they wake up. Which usually includes literally everything.” He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously frustrated, and Nandor tilts his head to the side.

“Oh. No.”

Guillermo (and everyone else) looks up at him. “What?”

“I forbid it.” Nandor takes a nonchalant sip of the glass of blood, then shrugs. “I’m not letting you work for other vampires.” He winks at Guillermo, who is deathly afraid to even check what expressions are on everyone’s faces right now.

“Okay so,” Gerald begins, “while I totally get where you’re coming from, we’ve always done it this way because it’s the most efficient.”

“Efficient for you. I won’t have you running my Memo ragged.” He swirls his glass, vaguely aware that Guillermo’s heartbeat is just a little bit faster now. “I will help with setup when the sun falls. Surely an extra set of vampiric hands can do more in a night than a human could during an entire day.”

Gerald glances at Avalon, who does not look up from her phone to return the look. “What is he going to do, then?”

“Sleep, like the rest of us. Humans function better well-rested, I find.”

Gerald looks desperately to Abuela for help, but she only nods at Nandor. “It is his decision. If Nandor does not want Guillermo working during the daylight hours, we cannot argue against it. Very well. Gerald, make sure there is a coffin in the guest bedroom for Nandor.” She covers her mouth as she yawns. “There is much more to discuss, but I’m very tired, and I’m sure the rest of you are, too. The sun is high in the sky outside. We will reconvene and finish introductions tonight.”

Most of the vampires don’t need told twice; they’re out of their seats and wandering to their respective rooms before she even finishes her sentence. Gerald pushes his chair back angrily and stalks off somewhere, presumably to find a coffin but Guillermo isn’t going to hold his breath for it.

“Did you even remember to bring your ancestral soil,” Guillermo asks, grabbing the bread plate and bringing it with them as they venture back to the room.

“Of course,” Nandor huffs. “I’m not that stupid. Anymore.”

“Thank you. For what you did back there.”

“It was nothing. It is unfair that you would bear the brunt of the work when a house full of vampires could do it all much quicker.”

“You get how that’s ironic, right? Like you heard what you just said?”

“I see no irony in injustice.”

“So that’s a no, then, got it.” He opens the door only to be bumped into by Gerald.

“Set you guys up,” he deadpans, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “See you at sunset.” He purposefully bumps against Guillermo’s shoulder on his way past.

“He’s a jerk, right?” Nandor asks after he is far gone.

“Right.” They go into the room and Guillermo has half a mind to go hunt Gerald down and stake him through the heart.

The bed is gone. In its place is a double-wide coffin, instead.

Nandor admires the coffin absently. “Would you like left or right side?” he asks.

Guillermo slams the door closed on principle. “I’m not sharing a coffin with you.”

“Why not?” Nandor has the gall to look hurt.

“It’s not— it’s too close,” he grumbles.

“You will be fine. I don’t even snore.” Nandor yawns loudly and stretches his arms like a silly little house cat. “I promise I will not do the drinking of your blood while you are laying beside me.”

Yeah, go ahead and kill Guillermo now, actually, because that was not previously on his radar of ‘horny things to worry about’ but now it is. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Eugh, enough of this.” Nandor opens the lid and picks Guillermo up, setting his fighting body squarely inside. “Quit kicking me! I am trying to help!”

“I don’t want to share a coffin!”

“You are being quite ridiculous.” Nandor climbs in beside him, pulling him down from where he was bravely trying to get out of the whole ‘share a bed with the man you have regular nasty thoughts about’ thing. “I promise there will be no maiming.”

“I’m… claustrophobic,” Guillermo lies lamely.

“And no claws.” He pulls the lid shut, still holding onto Guillermo like he’s a prize won at a dirty claw machine in the back of a Pizza Hut. “See? Comfy and not scary at all. I am right here.” He pulls Guillermo in close, nestling against him, like that’s any form of comfort.

Guillermo is smart enough to know he’s not going to win this battle, and he resigns himself to his fate: permanent memories of cool hands holding him tight in utter darkness. Nothing sketchy about that at all. Nothing to think too deeply about. “Just try not to be too weird about this,” he finally retorts.

“As your master I command you to quit complaining,” Nandor grumbles sleepily.

“And no more of this ‘commanding’ shit. I’m going to glass you next time. I mean it.”

“Shhh, I’m listening to your heartbeat to fall asleep and you are being very loud.” Guillermo can feel his cold nose pressing to the back of his neck. “Sweet dreams, Memo.”

Guillermo huffs and closes his eyes, surprisingly warm and comfy. “Sweet dreams, master.”

Guillermo groans as he wakes up, face pressed hard to something not quite as soft as a pillow, limbs thrown haphazardly all over the place. He blinks his eyes open to pitch darkness. “Huh?”

“Shhhh,” Nandor shushes him, wrapping his arms tighter around the errant limbs. “Five more years.”

Guillermo flexes his hand and, okay yeah, that is solid chest beneath him. “Um. Nandor.”

Nandor grumbles sleepily.

“You’re cuddling me.”

“You started it,” Nandor returns, then seems to process the statement. He sits directly up, throwing Guillermo off and subsequently slamming his head into the coffin lid. “Ah, fuck, that is solid. Ow.”

Guillermo tries to determine which way is up but can’t quite figure it out. “Where’s the goddamn handle?”

Nandor grabs it easily, pushing the lid open with practiced ease. “Do not feel bad; my eyes are far better suited to night time environments.”

The single bulb is still on from earlier, where Guillermo had never turned it off. He can see vague outlines by its dim light and gives himself a second to adjust, stretching his limbs and back. “You ready to be bossed around relentlessly?”

Nandor raises his eyebrows at him. “By you? Of course.”

“By my famil— huh?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

“Uh- huh. Okay. Just have my back and I’ll have yours.”

“Oh. Right.” Nandor reaches out and massages Guillermo’s shoulders reverently, which sends a confusing haze of signals to Guillermo’s brain.

“I ah, I—” He stammers, hoping the sentence will come out on its own. “Did you pack clothes?” is what comes out instead, sounding positively strangled.

The hands still on his upper back. “…No.”

“We’ll find you some. I don’t know whose would even fit you, honestly. We could make a trip to town and—”

“Relax, Memo,” Nandor mumbles, resuming the massage. “You’re not usually so feisty. Not that I am against it, by the way, but the situation seems to be an issue. Can I ask you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

“Yes.”

Guillermo purses his lips. “Go ahead.”

“Why haven’t you gotten a family member to turn you?”

Guillermo sighs and looks around, his eyes finally adjusted. “Let’s go downstairs and see who all is awake. I think abuelo might have been your size.”

“She’s so small though,” Nandor replies, stepping out of the coffin and offering his hand to Guillermo.

“Not abuela. Abuelo. My grandfather.”

“Have I met him?”

“He’s dead.”

Nandor squints. “Aren’t they all?”

To his credit, Guillermo chuckles. “I mean, yes, but abuelo was killed in a fire. It was a long time ago, but I think abuela still has his clothes.”

“Wouldn’t that be… odd? To ask for them?”

Guillermo grimaces. “He was killed in a fire at another woman’s house. I don’t think she’s going to care.”

“Ah.” Nandor nods like he understands, following Guillermo to the bag Gerald had tossed on the floor. He watches as Guillermo finds some clothes, then looks back at him.

“Um, can I help you?” Guillermo asks.

“With what?”

“I mean you’re staring.”

“You stare, too.”

Guillermo snaps his mouth shut and can only nod. He had always thought he was being sneaky about that. Guess not. “I’m going to get dressed now.”

Nandor perks up. “Can I help you?” he echoes.

“With. Getting dressed.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You always help me! And now you are the one in distress who could use a helper! So I must help!”

“No, Nandor, really, I can—”

“Nonsense,” Nandor counters, reaching out and undoing Guillermo’s top button. His hand brushes a hidden rosary and he yanks his hands back. “Ow! Hey!”

“I told you!” Guillermo’s heart is hammering, and he grabs his clothes and retreats into the en suite bathroom, locking the door behind him. He swallows hard. His general Nandor-themed horniness had already gotten him into way too many bad situations, and he didn’t need another one added to the list. He touches the undone button reverently, anyway.

When he finally exits the bathroom, a little more put-together, Nandor is nowhere to be seen.

“C’mon,” Guillermo grumbles, already swinging the door open and heading downstairs. He misses the first one and has a very serious moment where he thinks it’s the end for him, but then his foot lands and he breathes out.

He almost stumbles directly into Nandor, who is hunched over and sort of… waddling? Guillermo has a second, smaller heart-attack where he thinks Nandor managed to hurt himself, but then he hears Nandor’s gentle, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah,” comes a smaller voice, and he flips on the hallway light to see a small child standing on Nandor’s feet, holding his hands and tugging them in the direction he wants to go. The kid releases one hand to point at Guillermo. “That’s Memo.”

Nandor looks up at him, eyes shining brightly. “Hello, Memo! I found a small child!”

Guillermo can’t help but smile at the softness in Nandor’s eyes. “That’s Essie. My cousin.”

“I know, he has told me many things,” Nandor responds solemnly. “Did you know the blue power ranger is the coolest one?”

“Uh, no, it’s the red one.”

Essie cranes his head back to look at Nandor. “He’s lying to you, don’t listen.”

“Offended,” Guillermo quips back playfully, pointing at Essie. “I am offended.”

“I’m bored.” Essie tugs on Nandor’s hands and makes him waddle in a circle, careful not to topple him. “Mush!”

“We are mushing,” Nandor confirms, letting himself be led to the kitchen.

Guillermo does his best not to laugh as he follows them first to the kitchen, then to the fridge.

“Get me the pickles,” Essie commands, attempting to throw Nandor’s hand to the top shelf inside. It flops back down on him comically, and he throws it up harder. “Hey! Get them!”

“Say please,” Nandor teases.

“No,” Essie responds stubbornly, and in a flash is climbing up the fridge shelves himself. Nandor grabs him quickly, but not before he has a gallon of pickles in his hands. “I win!”

“You lose, time out now,” Nandor says, carrying him over to a chair. “Though that was very impressive. Just not the best course of action, yes? Let us discuss it.”

“You’re weird. I like you.” Essie squirms out of the chair and runs off with his pickles, and Guillermo grabs Nandor’s arm before he can follow.

“Leave him, his parents will have your throat if they find out you tried to put him in time out.”

“He’s going to get himself hurt like that,” Nandor counters, obviously still listening to wherever Essie is running off to. “Ah, he found them.”

“Believe me, I know. They’re just those kind of parents.” Guillermo gives him an amused look. “I didn’t know you liked kids.”

“I had fifty, it should come as no surprise.”

“You know what, I guess that’s true.”

“I thought you didn’t like kids.”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I don’t want any.” Guillermo opens the sparse fridge and grabs a plate of pre-cut veggies. “Which isn’t— I don’t know. Not exactly living a lifestyle where that’s an option, anyway, so I don’t dwell on it.”

“Are we discussing the familiar thing or the vampire thing or the men thing?”

“All of them at once, I suppose.” Guillermo almost offers Nandor a carrot but catches himself at the last second. “Though there are only two of those three the rest of everyone here knows about so let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

“Okie-dokie.” Nandor pulls out a chair at the table for Guillermo and sits beside him. “What is the plan for this night?”

“Whatever they need from us, I guess. Decorating, yard work, house work, cooking, it could be anything.” He eyes the fancy clothing still adorning Nandor’s body. “But first we’re finding you something more respectable. Like jeans.”

“Oh! I miss jeans.” Nandor sighs dreamily. “Bell-bottoms with button-up shirts half-undone, it was an era of true fashion.”

“You’ll have to settle for plaid and bootcut. But you can leave the shirt half-undone.” He takes a bite out of a slice of cucumber thoughtfully. “When we get home, we can find you some retro outfits, if you want.”

“I want.” Nandor gives him a fanged, crooked smile, and Guillermo looks away lest it haunt his every dream.

“If we have time we can hit up some thrift shops here before we get home, too. See what they have.” He clears his throat awkwardly, thankful Nandor seems to have mostly forgotten what a blush means. “We should probably go find abuela.”

“Yes, or we could continue to sit here and feign ignorance.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Guillermo chuckles. “C’mon, use those vampire ears of yours to figure out where she’s at.”

Nandor sighs dramatically and tilts his head, listening. “Outside.”

“Then shall we go?”

“By your leave.” Nandor makes a sweeping gesture, and Guillermo hides the grin it brings to his face.

“Ugh, c’mon. Let’s go.”

The moon is high in the sky, lighting up the night. It would be a full moon come Saturday, which Guillermo personally thought was just a particularly gothic (derogatory) touch. Not that he hadn’t had the same idea crawling about in his brain for the past decade or so, though.

He’s hanging up string lights by himself, Nandor long gone with Abuela to do some test-fitting. The space isn’t even near coming together, and honestly Guillermo isn’t sure if it’ll be done in time or not.

It would probably help if he wasn’t charged with all the difficult tasks.

Like hanging string lights in very tall places.

He tries not to let it get to him. Honest, he does. But they’re over there flying around, putting up lace banners or weaving flowers into backdrops and here he is, flightless.

He’s on his tiptoes, reaching far up for a limb, when he feels hands grab his waist and lift him up.

He cinches the cord in place, sighing in relief. “Thank you,” he begins, only to look back and see—

See.

Nandor is standing there, smirking up at him with his hair pulled back, in achingly human clothes. He’s there in a plaid button-down, and jeans, and rough, stained boots. He’s there, holding Guillermo up like he’s cognizant of his struggles. “You are welcome,” he practically purrs, bringing him back to the ground but not letting go. Where his thumbs press against the edge of his sweater burns. “Is there anywhere else I need to help you attain?”

Guillermo clears his throat and, when that doesn’t seem to quite actually clear it, he just motions up the path.

“I see,” Nandor says solemnly, then in one swift motion sits Guillermo on his shoulders.

Guillermo yelps, reaching down to grab handfuls of hair to steady himself.

“Don’t do that,” Nandor murmurs, gripping Guillermo’s legs tighter.

Guillermo does not think about the heat he is sure he heard in that statement and just nods. “Okay um, that— that way.”

They move to the next tree, Guillermo letting the cord slide through his fingers as they walk. Or well, as Nandor walks, and Guillermo… sits on him.

“It is looking very pretty,” Nandor compliments. “I like how sparkly they make things look.”

“Yeah they’re— they’re a nice touch.”

“Your grandmother was very nice to me. She said I may keep these clothes if I so desire.”

“Do you so desire?”

“I think so, yes. Though they are easy to put on.”

Guillermo snorts. “Why did you say that like it was a bad thing?”

“That would mean you no longer get to dress me,” Nandor states simply, plainly, and Guillermo is suddenly grateful for the iron grip on his legs that keeps him from losing his balance.

“Nandor!” someone calls out. “Come help us with this! Memo can take care of that!”

“Don’t deign to command me,” Nandor responds, not even bothering to look their way. “I am helping Guillermo currently. When I finish this, perhaps I would be so inclined to assist you. As it stands, that is unlikely.”

“Nandor,” Guillermo hisses low. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you. Like I said.” Nandor hums to himself, stepping off the ground to hover low. “Perhaps this string should be a bit higher, no?”

Guillermo’s cheeks are red and he cannot dare look at the faces he’s positive are staring at them now. Staring at him, on the shoulders of his master. “Can you maybe be a bit nicer about it?”

“I am being very polite. It is they who are not.” Nandor cranes his head to look up at him. “In my time, I would have murdered them all.”

“Okay well they are my family and I—”

“Guillermo, let me tell you something.” Nandor pauses a second, gives him a chance to respond, and when he doesn’t, Nandor continues. “The status ‘viceroy’ was never an excuse for me to do whatever I wished. There was a rule book for me to follow. The status ‘vampire’ is similarly not an excuse to go crazy. You know that well. Just because someone possesses the status of ‘family’ does not mean they get to be assholes.”

“They can hear you—”

“I know. I want them to. And I think you shouldn’t care.” Nandor moves them to the next tree. “If I am being honest, I think you should leave. Your presence is a gift that they do not deserve.” He tilts his head slightly, ear pressing into Guillermo’s thigh. “Well, that’s not fair to Clementine or Essie, but you get my drift. If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?”

Guillermo ties up the cord, shoulders hunched. “They’re family. It’s just what you do. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Perhaps I don’t.” Nandor throws a glare towards the family. “If being here is what you wish, I will be here with you. But just know I’d much prefer to steal you away.”

Guillermo almost snorts, shaking his head. “You’re starting to sound like Laszlo.”

“Eh, that’s not so bad. I like Laszlo. He’s very open about his feelings.” Nandor rubs his thumb along Guillermo’s thigh like that isn’t the single most insane thing he could possibly do. “What are we doing after this?”

“After lights we have to clear the pond.”

“The pond?”

“Yeah, make sure there’s no ‘unsightly’ debris and all. Abuela will turn Victor up here on the land, and Victor will take Alya into the pond and turn her there. It’s how it always goes.”

Nandor hums in thought. “You told me it was a wedding, when I asked at home.”

“To be fair, I didn’t want to have to explain all of this to you.”

“I see.” Nandor looks around the space, seemingly taking it in. “It will be a beautiful ceremony,” he decides softly.

“Always is,” Guillermo repeats. “Next tree. Stop dawdling.”

“I’ll dawdle as I please,” Nandor retorts, but follows Guillermo’s order immediately. “Do we like Victor?”

“Yeah, he’s a pretty chill dude. I haven’t met Alya, though, not really. We had like, one event together.” He finishes up the end of the string, then taps on Nandor’s head. “You can put me down now.”

Nandor lifts him up and off easily, setting him down in front of him. “Pond time?”

“Pond time.”

“Nandor?” a voice says, and they turn around to see one of his cousins — Tracy — looking sheepish. “I didn’t mean to be rude. If you would be so kind, I need help rounding up the horses. A fence broke and a few got out.”

Guillermo can practically see Nandor vibrating with excitement. “Guillermo—”

“Go,” Guillermo says before he can finish, waving him off. “I’ll be fine. Go save the horses.”

“If you need me just yell,” Nandor says in a rush, already running off in a direction he wasn’t even sure was right.

“Better go catch him,” Guillermo deadpans. “He’ll wander all night to find them.”

“Gotcha,” Tracy mumbles, already backing away after him.

And as quickly as he had company, Guillermo is once again alone. He rubs the back of his neck and looks to the storage building, internally groaning. There’s bound to be spiderwebs he’ll have to clear to even get close to the net he needs.

He’s working on getting the humidity-swollen door open when quiet feet land beside him. He’s very, very proud about how he doesn’t immediately grab a stake. “What,” he deadpans.

“Where’s your master?” Gerald asks, leaning against the door Guillermo is trying to open.

“Helping Tracy. Why are you over here?”

Gerald shrugs. “Thought you might need some help.”

“That’s… kind of you?”

“Yeah well, I know how difficult things can be for a little familiar when their master isn’t around so.” Gerald shrugs, and for as much rage as courses immediately through Guillermo’s veins, Gerald doesn’t seem to… intend to be mean. He looks like he’s just saying something they both know to be true.

“Uh- huh,” Guillermo responds through his teeth, somewhat proud the syllables remain neutral.

“Wolves might carry you off or something, I dunno.” Gerald gives the door one harsh pull and it opens easily. “Even that. It’s good I’m around.”

Guillermo takes a few moments to remind himself that, though his personal moral compass might say differently, it is generally immoral to murder someone. Even if that someone is being a complete ass.

“Uh-huh,” he repeats instead.

“I figure I’ll fly us up, you hold onto the net, and we’ll sort of lawnmower this bitch. Think you can handle it?”

“Just don’t drop me,” Guillermo says back, keeping the bite out of his voice.

“It’s water. You’ll be fine.” Gerald peeks into the room. “Ugh. You’re getting that.”

Guillermo reaches blank-faced through spiderwebs and dust bunnies to grab the net off the wall. “Let’s get this over with.”

Nandor spots Guillermo a long while later and waves animatedly. “Memo! I caught all the horses!” He stops just shy of Guillermo. “Ugh. Why are you all wet?”

Guillermo grabs Nandor’s collar and tugs him in close enough to whisper directly into his ear, “Get me out of here now or I’m going to kill Gerald.”

Nandor raises his eyebrows. “I’m inclined to keep you here,” he admits.

“Nandor!”

Nandor holds his hands up in surrender, backing away. “Well,” he announces, purposefully loud, “I think I need to take a drink break. Guillermo, accompany me.”

Guillermo breathes out a sigh of relief, following Nandor towards the house.

“Oh,” tía Margaret yells out, “there’s a letting room downstairs.”

They both freeze in their tracks.

Nandor turns to Margaret, eyes unreadable. “I’m sorry; I think you misunderstood me.”

Margaret staples a flower into place and turns to him, pushing her hair back. “You’re taking a bite of Memo, right? Letting room. Got all black furniture ‘n’ whatnot. Can’t miss it.” She turns to Frank, grinning. “We gotta get ourselves a familiar, babe. I hear their blood is like… eighty times tastier when they’re yours. Is that true, Nandor?”

Nandor nods once, stiffly.

Margaret waves the staple gun at him. “Have fun!”

Nandor is still frozen there, so Guillermo pushes him towards the house with whispers of, “Go, go, go!”

They veer into a dark room, with all black furniture and a black rug. The walls look like they’ve been repapered many times. Nandor stands in the center of it, wringing his hands.

Guillermo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nandor—”

“I didn’t mean to— to insinuate that!” Nandor hisses as a response. “We’ll just have to sneak upstairs for a while.”

“Yeah, except we can’t, because they’ll be asking why I don’t have fang marks.” Guillermo scowls, already unbuttoning his top button. “For fuck’s sake, just bite me.”

Nandor swallows hard, eyes on the revealed skin. “We’ve never—”

“First time for everything.” They both pretend they can’t hear Guillermo’s heart racing.

“I can't—”

“You sort of got us into this situation so—” Guillermo cuts himself off with a yelp as he feels a sharp sting on his throat. He slaps one hand against it. “What the hell?!”

Nandor grimaces sheepishly, holding up a thumb tack he got from God-knows-where. “There. Bite marks,” he murmurs.

Guillermo looks around the room for a mirror then rolls his eyes at himself, pulling out his phone instead. He looks at the two pin-pricks beading red. “Did you have to go so deep?”

Nandor lets out an insane laugh. “And you want me to bite you. I would be more than a little prick.”

“Oh, don't—”

“A big prick, in fact. It would hurt your throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” Guillermo mutters, earning himself a hiss.

“Here I am helping you! And you do the cursing of me!”

“I'm sorry,” Guillermo says sincerely. “We can stay in here for a while to sort of… keep up the illusion, then we'll go back out.”

“Mmhm,” Nandor hums, sounding strangled, and he sits firmly on the couch. “You are. You're um.” He motions to his own throat. “Bleeding.”

Guillermo touches his fingers to his throat and they come back slightly red. “It'll help the story,” he decides, letting blood drip slowly down his neck to his collar.

“They're all vampires.”

“…oh.” He winces. “We can wait for me to stop and just say I heal fast?”

Nandor's eyes track a single drop as it trails along his skin. “Yeah.”

“Are you even listening?”

“Yeah.”

“Laszlo turned down sex with Sean,” he lies.

“Mmhm.”

“You're not paying attention at all.” He watches the enraptured look on Nandor's face. “You said you didn't want this.”

“Mm.”

Guillermo rolls his eyes and looks around the room. It's dark and honestly pretty small, and if he focuses he can feel the thrumming in the back of his head telling him to press his own neck against Nandor’s mouth since he won't do it himself.

He's trying to ignore that one.

He drags his thumb across his wounds, checking their status, and it comes back smeared with blood. Ugh. They're going to think Nandor is a messy eater. And if he's this messy…

“Come here,” Guillermo commands, and he's a little surprised when Nandor does. “You need— around your mouth or something. I've seen you eat.”

“What—”

And then Guillermo is pressing his bloody thumb to Nandor’s lips.

Neither move. Like, at all. The gravity of the situation crashes into both of them like a goddamn earthquake. Guillermo is holding his life to the mouth of the predator.

Nandor suddenly grabs Guillermo’s wrist, holding him still. “That was very dumb,” he says, and it's deep and dark and inviting.

“Y-yeah,” Guillermo stammers back. After a moment, Nandor releases his wrist and he takes his hand back.

He still feels like a lion is circling him.

“Do you have your stakes with you?” Nandor asks evenly.

“I don't think I should tell you right now.”

“That's a no.” Nandor grins at him, all sharp teeth and death. “Relax. I can hear your heart beating.” He reaches out and taps one finger against Guillermo’s chest. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

“Nandor—”

“This is torture. It was a bad idea.”

“Was it?” Guillermo’s voice sounds far away, even to his own ears. “I thought you didn’t want to bite me, if I’m honest.”

“There’s a lot I want to do to you that I don’t tell you.” Nandor’s hand flattens on his chest.

Guillermo feels the bottom drop out. “What—”

“Meeemooooo!” a voice calls from somewhere in the house, and the two men spring apart. There are traces of blood on Nandor’s lips, rivulets down Guillermo’s neck and collar.

The door swings open and a bouncy, pretty girl runs in, smiling wide. “Memo! I— woah, whoops, my bad.” She stops and holds her hands up, taking a step back. “Did not mean to interrupt uh… this.”

“Adriana!” Guillermo says, definitely not out of breath. “Um, you weren’t interrupting! This is Nandor. Nandor, this is my cousin Adriana.”

“Hi, Nandor,” Adriana says, giving him a little wave. “You’ve got uh— on your mouth.” She motions to her own face, and Nandor says a soft oh and has no real choice but to lick his lips clean.

“When— when did you get here?” Guillermo asks.

“Just now! I came in with Tyler. We drove all day to get here. I tried to convince him to take a plane but noooo, he’s got that stupid fear of heights.” Her eyes twinkle as she talks.

“Is tía Mariposa here too?”

“Mama should be here tomorrow. Had to overnight her.” Adriana winks at Guillermo, who laughs. “Hey, when you get free come and find me. We’ve got so much catching up to do! Nice to meet you, Nandor!” She flounces out of the room and it smells decidedly more floral as she leaves.

Guillermo clears his throat after a moment has passed in pure silence. “Adriana and I have always been pretty close. She’s younger than me but isn’t in a hurry to have a family, either. Um, Tyler is her brother. He’s uh… he’s quiet.”

“You should follow her,” Nandor says, and it sounds a bit strangled.

“Huh?”

“Go. With Adriana. Like… now.”

“What are you—” Guillermo begins, but he’s cut off by Nandor pushing him into the door, slamming it closed with their own force. Nandor’s nose is in the divot right behind Guillermo’s ear.

“I’m saying,” Nandor growls as steady as he can, “that you should go. Now. Before I bite you or you stab me.”

Guillermo can feel the radiating cold from Nandor’s face and it’s not… bad. “And if I don’t?” he breathes, a lot braver than he truly has any right being.

Nandor’s hand slams into the door beside them and trails down, closer to Guillermo, before suddenly Guillermo is on his ass outside the room, the door slamming closed before him.

“Oh— real mature!” Guillermo shouts at him, scowling. “Ugh. Fuckin’ vampires,” he hisses, and he hopes his whole family hears him. He takes his phone out, frowning, and drafts a text to Nadja.

holy fucking shit i think nandor just made a move on me

He pockets his phone again, not intending to wait the ten minutes it’s going to take Nadja to press each number key three times for the right letter, and goes to find Adriana again.

He, instead, runs into Avalon, who barely looks up from her phone. “What the hell happened to you,” she deadpans.

He touches his neck self-consciously. “Um. Nandor.”

She looks up over the top of her screen and eyes him up and down. “Meant the whole ‘soaking wet’ thing.”

Guillermo blinks down at himself and— yeah, huh. “Guess I didn’t notice,” he says, only mildly surprised. He had spent years covered in the worst grime a person could dream up. At this point, pond water doesn’t even tip the scale.

She looks at his neck, then back at him. “Go take a shower and get some bandaids,” she commands, and then she’s off doing whatever-it-is Avalon does.

Guillermo decides to do exactly that, walking up the stairs to the stupid little room, locking the door, and stripping off all his wet clothes. He is truly, entirely, honest-to-God ready to leave and never come back. Only…

Nandor keeps running through his mind.

He checks his phone and the returning text from Nadja just says about time.

He turns the water on scalding and does his best to forget Nandor’s nose pressed behind his ear.

When he finally gets out and dons new clothing, it’s nearing sunrise. The stars are disappearing one by one, and soon everyone will be making their way inside and he’ll have to deal with them. Ugh.

He hurries down the stairs, hoping to find Adriana and sequester away until everyone else had gone to bed, but he bumps into Tyler, instead.

“Hey, where’s your sister?” Guillermo asks.

Tyler motions wordlessly to the kitchen and Guillermo nods his thanks. He walks into the kitchen, icebreakers at the ready, only to see her and Nandor talking in hushed tones over the kitchen island. Adriana giggles at something he says and points to her phone.

“Uh, hey,” Guillermo calls out, and Adriana looks at him with bright eyes as Nandor very obviously hides something behind the counter.

“Memo! Just in time! I’m about to head to bed, but Nandor learned some stuff he wants to show you. We still doing our usual morning coffee?”

“Of course,” Guillermo agrees.

She waves her phone at the two of them as a goodbye. “Buenas noches, dorks.”

Guillermo watches her go, then raises an eyebrow at Nandor. “You learned something, huh?”

“Adriana introduced me to the tick tocks. I found they had very much useful information,” Nandor says easily, motioning with a hand to the kitchen table. “Sit.”

“Ah, let me guess: you learned a new dance,” he teases, sitting down in the empty kitchen.

“No, I—” Nandor pauses. “There are dances?”

Guillermo laughs, leaning his forearms over the back of the chair. “Okay so if you didn’t find the dances, what did you find?”

“It’s a surprise. Hand me a knife.”

“Weird juxtaposition. Okay.” Guillermo grabs a paring knife from the block on the table and hands it to him.

“Close your eyes.” Guillermo does as he’s told and feels when Nandor takes the knife from him. “This is a very small knife.”

“This is getting concerning,” Guillermo says a little anxiously.

There’s a gentle clatter, then, “Ta-daa!”

“I can open—?”

“Yes, you may open your eyes now.”

Guillermo peeks with one eye, then widens both. “Did you make that?”

“I did!” Nandor proudly gestures at the slightly-wonky sushi rolls before them. “I used fake crab because the internet said it was safer and I did not wish to make you sick.”

“For… me?”

“For you, yes. Please, take a bite!”

Guillermo glances up at Nandor, then back to the sushi rolls. He picks one up and tries not to inspect it too hard, then decides to hell with it and puts the whole thing in his mouth.

It is, surprisingly, fucking splendid.

“Oh my god,” Guillermo gushes around enough food that it doesn’t seem to phase Nandor any. He swallows before he tries to speak again. “Those are— that’s fantastic. You did fantastic.”

Nandor looks immensely pleased and perhaps a bit… shy. “I’m very glad! I went through many tutorials and comments!”

“Holy— just, it’s been so long since I’ve had sushi. Here, try—” Guillermo is already holding out a piece before he catches himself, arm outstretched to share with Nandor. “Ah, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Nandor promises. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Literally the best thing I’ve eaten in months.”

The pride that flashes through Nandor’s eyes is beautiful.

Guillermo eats another piece and does not make an embarrassing noise, refusing to meet Nandor’s eyes. “We shared,” he blurts out after about three pieces.

Nandor raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“In my home, I mean. When I was growing up. If there was food in your hand, you offered it to someone else. That’s just how it was. It wasn’t like, it wasn’t a rule or anything we just had this culture of… I don’t know,” he finishes lamely. “Like a way of saying you care. It was important.”

Nandor contemplates that quietly, then reaches for a piece of sushi and holds it out as an offering. “I care,” he says sincerely. “I made this. I’m sharing it with you, not the other way around. Do not feel bad.”

Guillermo accepts the piece graciously, heart pounding. “Sometimes I wish I could actually share food with you.”

“One day, we will.”

Guillermo furrows his brow a moment, then the confusion clears. “Oh, you mean like, blood.”

“Unless there’s some other secret food vampires can ingest?” Nandor teases, poking at Guillermo’s arm, and oh that’s a feeling that lingers. “Tell me, vampire sl— slave?”

“Oh my god no. No.”

Nandor winces and gives him an apologetic gaze. “Sorry. Didn’t have a better cover.” He picks up a piece of sushi and turns it in his fingers. “I miss human food, I think. It’s been so long I only remember the feelings of it. Like… warmth. And fulfillment.”

Guillermo looks at the ancient warlord before him. “Is that not what drinking blood feels like?”

Nandor laughs, and it is cold and dark. “No. There is no warmth in blood. No fulfillment. It just… satisfies a need for a little while. Just barely. Hunger always claws at you.”

Guillermo’s mouth is suddenly dry and he has to look away. It feels very much like honesty is something that has never truly been between them, not really, not until recently, and it’s still so new. He isn’t sure if he should be truthful, but it feels… fair. “That sounds awful,” he whispers.

Nandor’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did my little Guillermo finally admit some parts of being a vampire are awful? You are a witch in disguise. Must be.”

My little Guillermo. “Shut it.”

“What will be next? Purposefully mislabelling the small snack bins in the kitchen?”

Guillermo shudders at the mere thought. “What are you trying to do here?”

“Feed you sushi.” Nandor holds out the piece he’s been toying with, aiming for Guillermo’s mouth. “Open up.”

“I mean with… us.” Guillermo dares a look at Nandor, and he is. Well. He’s not really moving at all. “Nandor— mmph!” He’s cut off by a piece of sushi being shoved into his mouth. Nandor wipes his hands off on his own shirt, looking anywhere but him.

“I will try a new recipe for tomorrow, I think, and we should get to bed. I do not want to see your family anymore. At least, not those about to come inside.” He tilts his head a bit, listening. “Oh, yes, we should move quickly.” He holds out a hand, and Guillermo swallows thickly.

“Nandor—”

“I’m reaching out here,” Nandor complains, waving his hand a little.

“I mean—”

“I’m reaching out here,” he repeats, softer, and Guillermo takes his hand.

They don’t say anything as they make their way up the stairs and lock their door behind them. There’s still the stupid double-wide coffin, but Guillermo climbs in without fuss this time, and Nandor lays beside him. They stare at one another in the dark.

“Why now?” Guillermo whispers after long enough that Nandor could reasonably pretend to be asleep.

He does, for a minute, then, “It occurs to me,” he begins slowly, measured, “that someone might snatch you out from under me.”

Guillermo almost laughs. Almost. “Who would do that?”

He can hear Nandor’s fingers tapping on the wood like they always do when he’s anxious. “Any one of them. You’d just have to ask. But you haven’t.”

“Because I want it to be you.”

“Yes. That… would be why.” Nandor touches his shoulder hesitantly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Guillermo can feel his heart catching in his throat and does his best to swallow it down enough to say, “I think I’m a bit cold.”

And when Nandor pulls him into a chilly embrace, it’s comfortable enough to pretend it’s anything close to warm.

It is too damn early when he wakes up.

Guillermo groans and rubs at his eyes, and Nandor grumbles something about sleep and pulls him in tighter. It’s… cute. He can think that freely. Nandor is cute.

Guillermo disentangles himself and leaves the coffin, grabbing a change of clothes on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t need anything more than pajamas (and truly he should’ve been in them already), and he tugs them on and walks quietly down the stairs.

Only one light in the house is on, and it’s the kitchen.

He tiptoes past nailed-closed windows and curtains to the dim light, then smiles. “Hey,” he whispers.

Adriana looks up from where she’s making little milk hearts in the coffee. “Hey, Memo,” she whispers back, glancing around like they’re still teenagers, afraid of getting caught. She hands him one of the mugs and they quietly make their way out to the porch, shutting the front door tightly behind them.

The sun is rising lazily in the sky, and it can’t have been more than a few hours since they both went to bed. But traditions are traditions, and Guillermo wouldn’t break this one for the world.

Adriana plops down into the porch swing and pulls her legs up, holding her coffee tight in the morning chill. “Beautiful out here,” she says as Guillermo sits down beside her, pushing the swing gently.

“Always is,” Guillermo responds, taking a sip of his coffee, and it’s ridiculously good. “Oh shit, you’ve gotten better.”

She smiles wide at him. “Yeah, they hired me at Starbucks. I know all the little secrets now.”

“Nice: secrets. Gross: customers.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. They’re awful.” She rolls her eyes. “There’s this one guy who always leaves his paper cups on the tables. Never bothers to throw them away like— dude! The trash can is right there!”

“We got those types constantly at Panera.” He breathes in the fresh morning air. “How’s college?”

“Eh, got its ups and downs. My roommate is never there which is great but also lonely.” She sips her coffee, then suddenly smirks at Guillermo. “So.”

“So?”

“You and Nandor.”

“Don’t even start with me.”

“I have eyes! I see things!” She laughs as he tries to hide his blush in his mug. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll show you who I’m dating.”

“Okay, we aren’t dating; I work for him.”

“Uh-huh,” Adriana says, already pulling out her phone to show him her background. “That’s Iris.”

“Oh— oh! What, she’s so pretty!”

“Isn’t she?” Adriana sighs happily. “She’s super sweet, too.”

He watches her, guarded. “Does your family know?”

She snorts. “Does yours?”

“Fair.” Guillermo turns to look at the colors stretching across the sky. “I guess that makes three of us, then.”

“Who’s the third?”

“I think tío Frank? Nandor totally insinuated he fucked Laszlo, my housemate, so…”

“Get. Out.” She laughs, head thrown back. “Oh man I knew I liked him!”

“He’s always so quiet! There’s no reason to not like him!”

She turns a bit so she’s better facing him. “Are they being nice to you?”

“Are they ever?”

Adriana winces. “I’m sorry, Memo. I wish I could help. Mama’s started doing the same thing to me, too. Adriana Michelle Ciseros,” she imitates, a stern, reedy voice, “when are you going to find a man, ah? When are you going to give me a grandchild and join me in everlasting life?” She sips her coffee nonchalantly. “That was a perfect impression, by the way. Best I've managed yet.”

“Ugh. Welcome to the club.”

“Least you don’t have to deal with it at home, too.” Adriana sighs, and it is a sad, heavy sound. “I miss your mama. And papa, but that can’t be helped.”

“Yeah.” He pushes the swing a little higher. “She’s doing okay. I visited her not too long ago.”

“Good. I stop by whenever I can. Mama always gets mad about it, though.” She rolls her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I just want to follow in your mama’s footsteps and say fuck this shit entirely.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Like hell I don’t. What do I wanna be a vampire for? It seems— I dunno. Lonely. Imagine growing older and all the nice people you know are dead, and all these assholes are still here.”

Guillermo winces. “I think that’s an oversimplification.”

She clicks her tongue. “I’m telling you, Memo, if you get that man in there to turn you, stay with him. Don’t ever look back here.”

“What, and miss Essie’s birthdays?”

“You can come back for those.” She sips her coffee, then suddenly scowls. “It’s pure shit what they did to your mama. And I don’t know why you came this weekend at all. Like really, they’re taking advantage of you.”

He levels her with a knowing look. “I’m here for the same reason you’re here, Addy.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “Yeah. Guess so. Fuckin’ family.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They toast their mugs and each down their coffee, then tiptoe inside to get more, and again, until the sun is high in the sky and they’re laughing everything away.

“Nandor,” Guillermo whispers, climbing into the coffin and shaking him with one hand. “Nandor, wake up, I have something for you.”

“Is that so?” Nandor responds sleepily, though there's an upward tilt to his lips that's bordering on mischievous.

“Open your eyes.”

Nandor cracks open one eye cockily. “Wait, you aren't naked.”

“Why would I— oh.” Guillermo's face is hot, his brain frying. “Um, d-did you want me to be—”

“Is that for me?” Nandor interrupts, peering at the flower.

“I— yeah, it um, it is.” Guillermo hands it over gently.

“Oh no, the rain will make the ground muddy for the ceremony,” he pouts, concerned.

“It's not rain, it's dew.”

“Dew?”

“In the morning, if you're up early enough, there's a layer of water on everything. Little drops. It makes everything look really alive. I wanted you to see.”

Nandor observes the flower, turning it in circles. “It is still warm.”

“The sun is rising.”

Nandor is quiet for a long time, then whispers, “Tell me what it's like?”

“The sun?”

“The day. It has been very long. Is it much like the night?”

“Kind of yes, kind of no. The same place in the day is entirely different at night but also… exactly the same.” He grimaces at himself. “I'm sorry, that wasn't helpful.”

Nandor chuckles. “No, it wasn't.”

“Um, for one, there are birds out. And different insects. Some flowers only open during the day. Sunflowers trace the sun across the sky. It's warmer, sometimes unbearably so. If it's hot enough sometimes you can see it, in like, little heat waves over the pavement. There are more people out, too.”

Nandor is enraptured.

“More shops are open, especially little ones. You can't get homestyle pancakes at midnight, not really. IHOP doesn't count. You have to find the hole-in-the-wall places with little old ladies running the cash registers who don't take card for really good pancakes.”

“Pancakes?”

“Holy shit you've never had a pancake.” Guillermo stifles a laugh. “They're incredible. Like a sweet flat bread you cover in butter and syrup. Sometimes they have fruit in them, like blueberries or strawberries.”

Nandor scoots closer to him, cross-legged, eyes saucers. “Pomegranates?”

“I've never had a pomegranate pancake but I bet we could cook some if we tried.”

Nandor nods enthusiastically. “I love pomegranates! My mamane used to have a garden of them, and every morning we would go out and pick the ripe ones to eat with our breakfast. We would start very early so they would be ready in time to eat in the sunrise.”

“We could go to the store and get some right now. We could make a big breakfast for everyone when they wake up.” Guillermo is thinking of standing in the kitchen with Nandor, flipping pancakes and laughing together.

“That would be lovely,” Nandor whispers sincerely, then pauses. “Oh, most of them couldn’t eat them.” The pause lengthens, drops to the floor. “…I couldn't eat them.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Guillermo can feel something weird wriggling in his heart. “Um, I’m sorry. I guess I got— caught up.”

“I did as well.” Nandor turns the flower in his fingers again, and there is— there is unbelievable sadness there. “You’d think, after seven hundred years, I’d stop forgetting.”

“Do you miss it?” Guillermo breathes, watching as the flower turns, turns, turns.

“Every day,” Nandor responds, and he tucks it gingerly behind his ear. When he looks at Guillermo, it seems… quieter than before. “Is it time for me to wake up yet?”

“Not yet,” he whispers back.

“Stay with me?”

“I— yeah. Okay.” Guillermo lays back down beside Nandor and is pulled flush against him. “I need more sleep, anyway.”

He closes his eyes and does his best not to think too hard about the way Nandor is clutching at his chest, right over his pulse.

When Victor and Alya show up, it is commotion.

Guillermo and Nandor had just started tying bows to the backs of chairs when Essie lets out a happy scream and runs across the backyard to the two approaching people. Victor is laughing and catches him up in his arms, spinning him around like an airplane while Alya waves animatedly at Avalon with her free hand, the other holding a car seat with a sleeping baby in it.

Avalon legitimately leaves her phone on the ground to walk over to her and hug her tight. “Hey, future sister,” Avalon teases.

“Right back atcha,” Alya responds, smiling. “Oh, everything is coming along so wonderfully.”

Essie is on Victor’s shoulders as they take their things to the house and go inside, pretty much everyone following.

Nandor ties a bow to Guillermo’s head, smirking. “Well, are you going to introduce me?”

He winces. “Kind of have to, huh? Or else we look like assholes.”

“I don’t really care if we look like assholes.” Nandor glances at the house. “They seem nice, though. Am I mistaken?”

“No, they’re wonderful. I just don’t want to crowd them.”

“I think the damage is done, there. Come on, I want to see the baby.” Nandor grabs Guillermo’s hand and practically drags him in.

The entire family is cooing over the baby, launching question after question at the couple, while Essie tries to cover Victor’s ears so he doesn’t have to answer. Alya hears the door open and turns to see Guillermo. “Memo!” she says excitedly, and then she sees Nandor. “Oh, and a new one!” She holds her arms out for a hug, which Guillermo readily gives.

“This is Nandor.”

“His master,” Gerald throws in.

Guillermo purses his lips and doesn't respond.

Nandor takes a step forward and does a silly, sweeping bow. “I am Guillermo’s friend. It is nice to meet you…?”

“Alya,” she responds, and her smile is warm enough to dispel some of the house’s chill.

“Oh,” Nandor says easily. “You’re the sky.”

Victor looks between the two of them, as if searching for anything to be wary of, before deciding that the dude with the ridiculous bow poses no serious threat.

Alya, however, is shining. “Shomâ fârsi sohbat mekunid?”

“Bale,” Nandor responds with equal excitement, and suddenly they are prattling off to one another in a language no one else in the room knows.

The entire room is quiet as they exchange some sort of conversation, eyes wide and bright and smiles plastered readily on rapidly-talking lips. Nandor says something and Alya laughs, a light, twinkling sound, and then she turns to Guillermo. “I like him,” she says, winking, and the rest of the family takes this opportunity to whisk her away. Nandor watches Gerald take the baby with him with some slight sadness.

“You—” Guillermo begins, then trails off. “Was that… Persian?”

“Farsi,” Nandor corrects immediately. “I thought I had forgotten it.”

“Yeah, I… thought you did, too.”

He shakes his head. “She started speaking it and I just— I remembered. It all came back to me.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, I said that the decorations were coming along, no thanks to the rest of the family. She said she knew exactly what I was talking about, I said ‘oh, that they’re assholes?’ and she laughed.” He shrugs. “I think that was it. Can we make her some Al-Quolanudarian food? I know she isn’t from there but… I can’t explain it.”

Guillermo nods slowly. “You want to share your culture with someone who might understand.”

“Yes, I think that’s it. I think I might know a recipe or two. Are there any nearby stores open?”

“Um, yeah. C’mon, I’ll drive.”

“No sumac or saffron?” Nandor scowls at the offending shelves in the fluorescent lights. “How am I meant to make kebabs without sumac?”

“We’re sort of in the middle of nowhere, Nandor.” Guillermo pushes the shopping cart along, which so far is filled with cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, an entire mint plant, and various spices.

“That is no excuse!” He scowls and grabs flour, chucking it into the buggy. “I swear, Guillermo, one day I’m taking you to Iran and showing you how food is meant to taste.”

Something flutters in Guillermo’s stomach. “Anytime you wanna go just… say the word. I’m there.”

“After this. When we get home, we’ll start planning a trip.” Nandor grimaces at the paltry selection of olive oils before his eyes drift back to the produce section and he grins. “Aha! Finally! They did something correct! Come now, Memo.” He’s stalking off before Guillermo can grab a bottle of olive oil and follow him.

Nandor is picking up literally every pomegranate and tossing them into the cart. “These will make up for our shortcomings elsewhere.”

Guillermo is doing his damnedest not to laugh as this eternal vampire throws fruit into the cart with gleeful abandon. “Are you sure we need all of them?”

“No, but no one here appreciates them.” He tosses the last few in and looks at their haul. “Shirazi and pomegranates it is, then. Unless this hellhole has rice…?”

“Yeah, absolutely have rice.” Guillermo wheels the buggy down a few aisles, stopping by a very small section labeled International Foods. It’s mostly Taco Bell products. “Bottom shelf.”

Nandor picks up a very large cloth sack of rice. “Oh! This will actually do wonderfully!” He tosses the bag over his shoulder (the cart being full and all) and they walk to the checkout to make the poor, underpaid cashier weigh an entire cart full of pomegranates.

They cart their (many) bags to the car and load up, Nandor sliding into the passenger seat with a fruit in his hands. The road home is short, but not so short that Guillermo isn’t driving, listening to the radio, when he feels something pressed against his lips.

He almost jerks the car into a ditch.

As it is, he looks around the empty country road and slows to a stop, looking over at Nandor. “What the fuck?” he reprimands.

Nandor holds up a handful of pomegranate seeds. “I’m feeding them to you as you drive.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“Oh. Here is your warning,” Nandor says evenly, then pushes a sweet seed back to his lips. “Eat.”

Guillermo parts his lips just enough for Nandor to slide the seed inside, and he really shouldn’t be making such intense eye contact right now but here they are. Nandor raises his eyebrows, waiting for… a verdict? Maybe?

“They’re good,” Guillermo confirms, pulling back onto the road, face red. He lets Nandor feed him seeds the entire way home, and as time goes on, it’s less nerve-wracking, less embarrassing. It’s just Nandor, being nice. It’s like feeding french fries to Adriana when she would drive them both to concerts. It’s like offering bread to his father as a kid. It’s just… sharing food.

“What do they taste like?” Nandor asks quietly, about a mile out. “Are they sweet? I think I remember them being sweet.”

“Yeah,” Guillermo says back. “They're sweet.”

Nandor carries all the bags to the kitchen in one go and starts telling Guillermo what to bring him: a cutting board, a knife, some bowls.

Guillermo finds it all easily and lays it on the kitchen island. “So you remember how to cook now, too, huh?”

“Never forgot,” Nandor quips back easily, sliding a cucumber onto the board and setting to work dicing it. “Of all the skills to remember for eternity, I got the worst one of all.”

Guillermo steals a bit of the cucumber and munches on it thoughtfully. “So all this time you could've been cooking for me, and instead you gave me ice chips and raw chicken.”

Nandor casts him a small glare. “To be fair, Laszlo did that first and you said nothing against it. I thought food had merely changed a lot since my time. That is on you.” Nandor boops his nose with his free hand before dicing up another cucumber. “And stop stealing my food.”

As a response, Guillermo takes another pinch of diced cucumber and ducks out of arm's reach, grinning. “Let me find you an apron.”

Nandor blows his hair out of his eyes. “I don't need an apron. I need you to put my hair back.”

Guillermo does both things. He ties back Nandor's hair with an elastic he always keeps on him, and when Nandor is busy cutting tomatoes, he slips an apron onto him. “There. Now you look the part.”

Nandor tries to glare at him again, but there is too much amusement in it. “You want to play, big guy? Alright, come over here and help, then. Do something useful.” He firmly sets a knife and the onions on one side of the board.

“You just wanna see me cry,” Guillermo retorts, taking his station.

“Why would you— oh, the onions?”

“Yes, the onions.”

“I'll show you a trick my mother showed me. Observe.” He uncaps the olive oil and pours a little onto the board, then slides the knife through it. “Now cut.”

Guillermo cuts the ends off the onions and raises his eyebrows. “Oh, wow, that actually worked.”

“Don't sound so surprised! Just renew the oil every so often and there will be no tears.”

“Huh.” Guillermo pulls the outer layers off. “Am I dicing these?”

“Yes. I'll show you an easy way.”

“I know how to dice—” He's cut off by Nandor standing behind him, pressed up against him, taking his hands in his own.

“Allow me,” Nandor says, voice lower than usual, and leads Guillermo through the dicing motions. His hands are strong and guiding and sure, creating flowing motions. A practiced gesture. “You're a natural,” he whispers, pressing his nose to that same spot behind Guillermo’s ear, and Guillermo leans into it.

“I've got a good teacher,” he whispers back, a little lamely, but Nandor doesn't seem to mind, if the small chuckle is anything to go by.

“Will you finish the vegetables while I start the rice?” Nandor asks, breath ghosting against Guillermo’s bandaged throat.

He can only nod stiffly, and then the press of Nandor’s body is gone. He instantly misses it.

“Ugh, where are the pans?” Nandor asks, opening and closing cabinets.

“Bottom cabinet, to the right of the stove.”

There's a bit of shuffling, then an, “Aha!” as Nandor pulls it out and sets to pouring rice into it. “Thank you, Memo.”

Guillermo nods, throat still dry. “I uh— I know this place like the back of my hand.”

He hears the water running, then he doesn't, and Nandor is back at his side. “Rice will be done in a while. These look great. Good work.”

He glances back at the pot on the stove. “I can't wait for Alya to try all this. I bet it's gonna be fantastic.”

“You get to try it too, obviously,” Nandor responds, rolling his eyes. “I'm making this for both of you.”

“…oh. Oh, um, thank you.”

Nandor gives him an amused look. “Did you truly think I wasn't going to make food for you as well? Now that I know you'll eat anything I make, I intend to feed you every recipe I can remember.”

Guillermo looks to the cutting board, definitely not blushing. “I'll make you buñuelos,” he mumbles, then hangs his head and sighs. “Sorry. Forgot again.”

Nandor leans his elbow on the counter, resting his hand on his chin. “I wonder if I could taste it in your mouth.”

Guillermo's eyes snap to his. “What?”

“I think I meant blood.”

“I'm not so sure you did.”

“Maybe I didn't.” Nandor picks up the cutting board and slides all the chopped food into a bowl. “I need lemons and mint, please.”

“We're—” Guillermo hands over the items, “We're talking about this when we get home.”

“Outside of prying ears,” Nandor agrees.

Guillermo looks around for anything to do that isn't look at Nandor. “So what spices go in the rice?”

“Hmm? Oh, none.”

“…just… plain rice?” He tries not to wince. “When do I need to stir it?”

“You don't.”

“It's going to burn.”

“No, it won't. Just leave it alone and let it cook.”

Guillermo stares at the aluminum pot. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“…please let me stir it.”

“No! Don't touch it!”

“Just add a little cumin! Maybe some chili powder!”

“Don't add anything!”

“It would be excellent with some butter—”

“Guillermo.” Nandor points the big spoon he's stirring the veggie bowl with at him. “Touch that rice and I'm finding a new familiar.”

“You're bluffing.”

Nandor stares him down a moment before groaning dramatically and grabbing the turmeric, shaking some into the rice. “There. There. Happy?”

“Relatively.”

“Good. Now leave it alone for five fuck-ing minutes.” He spoons some of the chopped salad out. “Open up.”

Guillermo obeys, and when he tastes the dish, his eyes go wide. “That's so good!” he gushes around his food.

“Shirazi.” Nandor looks… proud of himself. “These plants are different than the ones we had, but it is close enough to what I remember.”

“It's incredible. Thank you.” Guillermo tries to sneak another bite, but Nandor smacks him lightly with the spoon.

“No, bad Memo. Go drain the rice.”

“Fucking finally.” He's pushed aside by Nandor the moment it's drained. Nandor takes a cup of it and mixes it with things Guillermo can't see, then glances at him.

“You might should leave the room for this. I think you might explode about it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Eh, suit yourself.” Nandor spreads his mixture in the bottom of the pan, then dumps all the rice back in and covers it with a towel, then the lid. “Don't touch that for an hour.”

“An hour? There isn't even any water! It is going to burn!”

“It's not going to burn,” Nandor repeats, rolling his eyes. “It's a traditional recipe.”

“No, you've got it mixed up somehow. Let me—”

Nandor catches Guillermo up in his arms before he can touch the pot. “Nope, we are going to go outside now, yes? And help with things?”

Guillermo struggles against him. “Your rice!”

“Will be fine,” Nandor assures, carrying him out of the kitchen. “Forget it exists.”

“I can't!”

Nandor shoulders the door open and walks them into the chilly night air. “Alya,” he calls out, “where are you?”

A hand waves from underneath an entire bush of fake flowers, and Nandor heads that way, a devastated Guillermo in tow. “What are you doing? Hiding? And may we join you?” Nandor teases.

Alya laughs, her head poking up. “Nah, just trying to untangle all of these.” She grins at Guillermo. “What's got you so down in the dumps?”

“Nandor is trying to— mmph!” He glares at Nandor, whose hand is clasped firmly over his mouth.

“It's a surprise,” Nandor responds coolly. “One he is a smidge discontent about. He'll be fine.”

Guillermo heaves out a sigh and gives her a thumbs-up.

“Ah, have you decided to trust me?” Nandor asks, releasing him. “Alya, could you use some help?”

“I'd be delighted.” She pats the ground beside her and they both sit down, finding an end to the faux foliage and beginning to unravel.

“Where is the very small one?” Nandor asks.

“Oh, Russ? He's with his dad right now. Probably being spoiled rotten by his abuela.” Her nose crinkles when she smiles.

“His name is Russ?”

“Yep, short for Cyrus.”

There is an intense softness in Nandor’s eyes. “Cyrus is a lovely name for a child,” he says gently.

“Thank you,” she responds. “Are the two of you thinking about having children?”

Nandor accidentally snaps the plastic twig in two while Guillermo manages to choke on his own spit.

Alya does her best to hide her grin. “Ah. I see. Haven't discussed it yet.”

Guillermo finally catches his breath. “We're not— we aren't—”

She holds her hand up. “Save it for your family. I, unlike them, have eyes.” She gives them both a little smile. “I'm on your side, Memo. Now and always.”

“Thank you,” he whispers sincerely. “If you ever need anything, I'm sort of an expert on vampires.”

She suddenly looks down, fidgeting with silk petals. “Um. Yeah. Thank you, too.”

Nandor watches her sad expression. “It would be a shame,” he finally says, low, so low his voice doesn't carry, “to waste such a beautiful life on something as dark and twisted as eternity.”

When Alya looks to Nandor, there is understanding in their eyes.

Guillermo can see it, too. “You don't want to…?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “It terrifies me.”

“Does Victor…?”

She shakes her head again, slower.

“Then why are you both here?!”

Alya looks up to meet his eyes, something resigned deep within them. “They're family,” she whispers. “It's just what you do.”

They’re still untangling plants when Victor walks over and leans down to press a kiss to Alya’s hair. “Hey, babe,” he says. “Coming along?”

“Now that I’ve got help, yeah.” She leans her head back, resting it against his thigh. “How about you?”

Victor grimaces, then nods. “Yeah. Got the arch up. Took a lot more arguing than I thought was necessary.” He seems to finally notice Guillermo and Nandor. “Oh, hey, Memo. And… Nandor, right? The one who speaks Farsi?”

Nandor gives him a dorky little wave. “That’s me, yes.”

“Victor,” he says, holding out his hand.

Nandor scoots forward to take it and kiss it reverently.

Alya snorts while Victor looks somewhere between flattered and confused. “Nice to meet you,” he says, face red.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Nandor purrs, and Guillermo has to elbow him. “What? It is. I like the nice parts of your family.”

Victor straightens his back and puts his fists on his hips, glancing back at the horde of vampires doing random tasks. “Wanna go inside and talk smack about ‘em?”

Nandor grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Nandor just barely catches Guillermo going for the rice with a spoon. He snatches him up and carries him to the table, depositing him in the chair. “Bad. Bad Memo.”

Alya snickers behind her hand. “Is this what he’s so upset about?”

Nandor waves his hand idly. “He just doesn’t know.”

“That rice has been on for an hour!” Guillermo complains, and feels a bit accomplished when Victor’s expression of horror matches his own.

“You burnt the rice?!” Victor asks, horrified.

“No,” Nandor explains, frustrated. “I made—”

“Tahdig!” Alya exclaims happily, grabbing a plate and turning the heat off. They work together to turn the bowl onto the plate and give it a good smack, and a perfectly-shaped, crispy rice cake comes out. “I haven’t had this in ages. Oh my God, Nandor, thank you!”

Nandor looks a little pained, but he still manages, “You are very welcome. Come, eat. I made shirazi as well.”

Alya looks back at Guillermo, eyes positively radiant. “Keep him, Memo. I mean it. Keep. Him.”

Victor sits down opposite Guillermo. He’s grabbed a bowl of bread and is handing a piece to him. “He burns rice,” he deadpans. “Your mom is gonna kill you about him.”

Guillermo snorts. “Okay first off, we’re not together. Second off, never telling her about him. Ever.”

Alya is busy stuffing her face with supermarket pita bread and shirazi salad. “Good luck with that,” she says around her food. “We invited her to the wedding.”

“You. Invited her.”

“Yep.”

“Here.”

“Yep.”

Guillermo’s eyes are wide, disbelieving. “That is like— Abuela is going to kill you herself.”

“If she even comes,” Victor throws in, curiously eyeing the crisp tahdig. “With the way everyone’s treated her, I wouldn’t. Hey, babe? Can… I try that?”

Guillermo shakes his head. “She’s not coming. There’s no way.”

“Pity,” Alya says, grabbing a stack of plates and loading them up. “I always liked her.”

Nandor is watching them all, taking everything in. “What happened to ostracize your mother?” he asks.

“Hoo boy,” Victor says, accepting the offered food. “Question of the century, man.”

Alya sits plates in front of Nandor at the island and Guillermo at the table, then sighs. “You’re gonna hate it. It makes my blood boil.”

Nandor looks at Alya with deep terror and concern on his face, but Guillermo says, “It’s just an expression.”

“Oh.”

“Um.” Guillermo takes a bite of the shirazi to give himself more time. “She… They blame her for my father dying.”

Nandor squints. “Did she kill him?”

“No. Yes. Not… not like you’re thinking. She rejected being a vampire and… and so did he. And because he wasn’t a vampire, he died a stupid, slow, agonizing disease death when I was in high school. And they blame her for that.”

Victor snorts. “Rejected. That’s an understatement.”

Guillermo glances at him. “Well, rejected being a vampire, rejected the family tradition, whatever. The thing is—”

“Wait. Are you skirting around it on purpose?” Victor has paused with tahdig halfway to his mouth.

“…around what?”

“…nevermind. Try this burnt rice.”

Guillermo crinkles his nose but tries it anyway, and he doesn’t have to say it’s good. The immediately proud expression on Nandor’s face says he got the message loud and clear.

Alya taps Nandor’s plate with her bread. “What? Did you poison it or something?”

Nandor picks up a piece of tahdig, for a full second, then shakily sets it back down. “I um, I can’t eat.” He bares his teeth at her, and she raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, wow. I guess I forgot. You’re really… nice, for a vampire. You blend in well.”

Guillermo almost chokes on his food at that. “It’s the clothes,” he manages. “He’s usually in like, historic Persian robes.”

“Oh, I bet those are beautiful.”

“They are,” Nandor and Guillermo say simultaneously. They look at one another, something warm in their gaze, before Gerald careens into the kitchen and ruins the entire moment.

“Hey, Memo,” he says. “Need you outside.”

“For…?”

“Just— come on, you’ve been slacking off, anyway.” Gerald pulls him away before Nandor can say anything about it.

“Fuckin’ hate that guy,” Victor grumbles, stuffing some pita with shirazi. “He’s just such an ass.”

“Agreed,” Nandor mumbles back. “Um, could I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Nandor squints, unsure, and Victor laughs softly.

“Means yeah.”

“I… understand there is a lot of culture here that I am not privy to. I would like to be.” He taps his fingers against the counter. “Would you… show me how you cook rice? Guillermo was being quite a pain about it earlier, but I am curious.”

Alya and Victor share a glance, and it is amused and adored all at once. “That’s the way to a man’s heart, you know,” she teases. “Through his stomach.”

“I think his chest is a more direct route,” Nandor deadpans.

Alya grins at him, then motions to the kitchen island. “Well? C’mon, babe. Cook for us.”

Alya grins around her cider bottle as Nandor flips a tortilla with the pan. “Congrats!”

Victor laughs. “Psssh, basic stuff, man. I'll teach you better stuff soon.” He winks. “But good job.”

“Thank you,” Nandor teases back. “You are very pleasant company to keep.”

“Right back atcha,” Alya says, shooting a finger gun at Nandor. Victor smiles at her, soft and full of love.

“Think I need to find Russ and get this one to sleep. You should probably get to bed, too. Almost sunrise.”

“Already? Yeesh.” Nandor takes the pan to the sink and puts it in. “Um, I'll have Guillermo show me how to do the cleaning up bit.”

Victor snorts. “Be a good thing to learn, yeah. Buenas noches, Nandor.”

“Buenas noches,” Nandor responds, and it's smoother than either expect. He looks to Alya, and something of a smirk graces his features. “Shall we die?” he asks.

She grins at him. “Bale,” she responds, tilting back the rest of her drink and standing up. She gives him a sweeping bow, which he playfully returns. “Means we should go to bed,” she explains to Victor, grabbing the bowl of shirazi with full intentions to take it to their room.

Victor is in love with her. He's so, so in love with her, and it's visible in the way he smiles, the way he wraps an arm around her, the way he leads her from the room.

Nandor is mourning the life they won't get to have.

With a heavy sigh, he trudges upstairs, feeling… lonely. Feeling indescribably lonely.

He opens the door and practically jumps out of his skin.

“Guillermo,” he says shakily, then clears his throat. “I… did not hear you come in.”

“Kind of the point,” Guillermo mumbles. He’s sitting in a chair, hand to his head.

“Are… Is everything okay?”

“I dunno.” He heaves out a sigh.

Nandor scowls, closing the door behind him. “Were they assholes again? I am sorry I was not there to—”

“Asshole is an understatement. Fucking Gerald and his fucking attitude.”

Nandor winces. “I’m sorry.”

“Memo,” he imitates, standing up to do a better impression, “I know you can’t fly or lift anything heavy, so why don’t you stand there and tell us if we’re in line? Just look pretty. If you can.”

The rage that bubbles up in Nandor is immediate. “That little—”

“Why don’t you just— just drop to your knees in front of your little master, huh? It’s all you’re fucking good for.” And Guillermo, in a complete lapse of judgement, does it.

He looks up at Nandor and sees something he recognizes immediately. They both freeze, the situation catching up with them: Guillermo, on his knees, before Nandor.

Nandor can sense the shift, hear the slight change in the erratic pace of Guillermo's heart, and swallows harshly. “Guillermo—”

“This is all I'm good for,” Guillermo says low, leaning forward and placing an open-mouthed kiss on the zipper of borrowed pants. He looks up again, not sure what he's expecting to see, but trapped isn't quite it.

“It's not,” Nandor pleads softly, like half of him wants to say it and the other half wants to be silent and let this scene play out.

“Then stop me,” Guillermo says plainly, popping the pants button open effortlessly.

He can hear the soft rush of unneeded breath, a begging, “Guillermo…”

“Stop. Me.” Guillermo demands, pulling the zipper down and pressing his lips to the boxers underneath.

Nandor groans and fists Guillermo's hair harshly, pulling him to his feet by it. The pain is almost… grounding. “You are worth more than this,” he promises, though it comes through clenched teeth and blown pupils. “If you weren't I would have killed you long ago.”

“You can't kill me,” Guillermo responds easily, and it is truth the moment it leaves his lips. Not won't. Can't. “I'm more powerful than you.”

Nandor takes his chin in his hand and lifts it. “Then you know your worth. You know what you are good at. Do not let them convince you otherwise.”

Guillermo nods and breathes out, and some of the ferality clenching at his heart subsides. His face goes red. “I uh… I just made things very awkward between us, didn't I?”

Nandor releases his chin, as if suddenly realizing the same thing. “Perhaps a smidge.”

“Shit.” Guillermo runs a hand over his face and feels the stubble there. “I uh… I'm sorry. I don't know what just happened.”

“You're… stressed, yes?”

Guillermo snorts. “Understatement.”

“Perhaps you just snapped?”

“Yeah. Guess so. Um.” He tries not to look at Nandor's unbuttoned pants. “Still. Sorry.”

“You definitely don't have to apologize for it.” Nandor spreads his hands. “In fact, if you're stressed, I could always… do that but to you and a little less insanely.”

Guillermo blinks. Blinks again. “Um.”

“…I made it worse, didn’t I.”

“Maybe a little.” Guillermo clears his throat awkwardly.

Nandor licks his lips absently and looks away, head slightly tilted. “Everyone is asleep,” he says plainly, if not a bit nervously. “Would you like to see how bad we can make it?”

Guillermo's breath catches in his throat.

Nandor glances at the coffin. “Or we just go to bed,” he whispers, like he doesn't want Guillermo to hear that bit.

“We can make it bad,” Guillermo agrees, just as quietly, taking a step forward.

“Okay,” Nandor breathes, meeting him halfway. The distance between them is nothing at all. “Should we bathe?”

Neither can stop staring. “Yeah,” Guillermo responds, and it's unclear who finally moves first, but where they had been standing still, now they are moving to the en suite, closing the door behind them.

Guillermo undoes the buttons on Nandor's plaid with ease, though his hands are shaking. Nandor has a bit more trouble figuring out Guillermo's zipper and pants button, but before either are truly ready, there they are, undressed before one another.

“After you,” Nandor says, with a stupid little bow in the stupid little room, and Guillermo turns the shower on and steps backwards into it. He can't look away. It feels like he'll break everything if he does.

Nandor follows him, step for step, until Guillermo's back and Nandor's forearms hit the wall. Hot water splashes against their sides. If Guillermo didn't know any better, he'd think it feels like being baptized.

In what is far too intimate a gesture, Nandor removes Guillermo’s glasses and sets them gently on a shower shelf. “Tell me what you want, Guillermo,” he says, voice low and dripping with suggestion, hands gently touching at his face.

“I want you to bite me.” He's proud of how his voice doesn't shake, of how his hands go so far as to rest lightly on Nandor’s cool hips.

There is something amused in Nandor’s eyes as he leans in and opens his mouth against Guillermo’s throat. “Here?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He lets his fangs just barely tease his skin, then pulls back to mouth a little below that spot, a little to the left. “Or here?”

“Nandor—”

“Or maybe here?” He presses a kiss to Guillermo’s Adam’s apple. “Or here?” He moves to the other side of his neck.

“You’re being a tease on purpose,” Guillermo scolds without any real heat.

Or well.

Without any real anger.

“Well, yes, that’s half the fun.” He grins against flushed skin, then kisses up to his ear. “Do you want to know a secret?” he whispers.

“Yes.” His eyes are dripping closed. His hands are traveling across warrior's body.

“There is one blood better than virgin blood. And it is that moment, that shift when virgin no longer becomes true.” He scoots forward, presses their chests together. “To know I did that. To know that I was the first to ever show you heaven.” Nandor takes Guillermo's chin and tilts it up, to the side, like he's inspecting him. “It's unparalleled.”

His throat is dry and he can't stop looking at Nandor's eyes, Nandor's lips. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, gravelly, and there's really only a pinprick of pain when Nandor leans in and sinks his fangs into willing flesh.

It's immediate. Nandor has him pressed fully to the wall, every inch of skin either touching or as close to it as physically possible. With vampiric strength, he grabs Guillermo's bare thighs and lifts him off the ground, nudges them around his waist.

“Fuck,” Guillermo groans, as shiver after shiver after shiver wracks through his body.

He had always thought it would be, at best, mildly unpleasant. But like, in the sort of way spanking was unpleasant. A sexy sort of unpleasant.

He had heard the screams, had seen drawn-out humans in alleyways, eyes glazed, half-dead and aching. He hadn't fooled himself into thinking this was going to be equivalent to a makeout.

Except that it is. He doesn't know if he's just fucked up or if it's because he's a familiar or what, but he knows every touch of tongue to the probably-gaping wound on his throat is fully and completely undoing him.

He's got barely enough mental faculties left to try to reach between them, but Nandor grabs his hands and pins them to the wall above them, opting instead to rock their hips together.

“Guillermo,” Nandor breathes, and Guillermo can feel where blood escapes his mouth and trickles down his chest. Nandor makes sure to lick it up, but it's quickly becoming a futile effort that has Guillermo looking like a horror movie. “Shit, fuck—” He taps on Guillermo's legs to release him, intent upon chasing the trail down his body.

Guillermo's feet touch the wet floor and he slips, grabbing onto Nandor and pulling them both down.

Nandor lands on top.

Guillermo can see him clearly this close: eyes wide, hair a wet mess, mouth and chest streaked with red. He can't help it. He presses a kiss to Nandor’s cheek.

Nandor looks like he cannot process it. “Um. I um.”

Guillermo gives him a nervous grin. “Making it worse, remember?”

“Right,” Nandor whispers, then decides to trade talking for dragging his tongue along the trails and his hand down between them.

Guillermo's gasp is loud when Nandor takes them both into his hand.

“Shhh,” Nandor shushes. “If someone were to come in here right now, I couldn't make them forget about it.”

Guillermo cringes at the thought and puts the edge of his own hand in his mouth, biting down.

“Little vampire,” Nandor whispers fondly, then goes back to sucking on Guillermo's throat, tasting for something very specific.

It's obvious when Guillermo gets close: his eyes are squeezed shut, his muscles are tensed, his hand is bleeding.

“There we are,” Nandor whispers to no one in particular, then immediately latches back onto the bite wound to taste Guillermo's orgasm.

He's tasted plenty of transitions before. Hundreds. Thousands. He knows the way it goes from whiskey to wine, or maybe vice versa, it's been a while since he's had either. He knows what to expect.

This isn't that.

It doesn't go from wine to whiskey. It goes from wine to the memory of being in love. It goes from whiskey to the feeling of sunlight on his skin. It goes from a taste to a feeling that has him gripping Guillermo hard as his own climax comes from absolutely nowhere.

They're both breathing hard as Nandor unlatches and presses his hand to the wound. It's not doing much good, with how they're shaking.

“I've—” Guillermo's voice is rough, and he has to swallow and try again, hot water still raining down. “I've got a med kit in my bag.”

Their hands touch briefly as they trade responsibility for the wound and Nandor falters a second before going to find the bag silently.

They patch him up quickly and go to their coffin, thunder rolling beyond the curtains.

Guillermo can't think of what to say, what do you say after that?, so he gives up to sleep quickly and peacefully.

Nandor, however, knows exactly what he wants to say, but every time he tries, it sticks in his throat. He wants to say We have to do that again. He wants to say I wish I didn't tear you to pieces. He wants to say I remember, I remember, I remember. But mostly, and above all, he wants to say:

You taste like pomegranates.

Guilermo’s phone alarm goes off in like, thirty minutes.

He groans loudly, then flails around to open the coffin. It’s too dark to see Nandor still awake, watching him silently.

He stumbles to the bathroom and flips on the light switch, fumbling for his glasses. His throat aches, and he uses his phone camera to get a peek.

Yikes.

He’s bruised to hell, deep wounds barely scabbed over. He has— He has no idea how to cover this up.

He decides not to worry about it right now; not like he’ll have to deal with his vampire family for a few hours yet. Right now, he’s just going to see Adriana, and she’d wanna know about it, anyway.

He shimmies some clothes on and heads downstairs, the sound of rain against the windows dampening his footfalls.

She’s yawning in the kitchen already, upper body splayed across the counter, waiting for the coffee to percolate.

“Hey,” Guillermo whispers, and she just groans.

“Tired,” she grumbles.

“Me, too. That’s what the coffee’s good for, though, right?” he teases, coming to stand by her. He grabs two coffee mugs and sits them down. “At least they’re nice enough to remember we need one.”

She huffs out a laugh, then finally turns to look at him in the dim oven light. “Holy fucking shit,” she gasps, standing up straight. “Were you attacked? Wait no, shit, are we happy about this? What happened?”

“Tell you on the porch?” he responds.

“Yeah, alright.” She puts her chin on the counter before the coffee machine. “Brew faster, dammit! Ugh, is this one of the ones where I can move the carafe without it spilling everywhere?”

Guillermo shrugs. “Try.”

She does, and the moment the container is moved, coffee starts pouring out onto the counter. “Shit fuck shit!”

Guillermo shoves a coffee mug in the empty spot, filling it up. “Get ready to Indiana Jones the next one.”

They swap mugs quickly and efficiently, then put the carafe back. Guillermo grabs some paper towels while Adriana doctors up the drinks.

“Okay, ready?” she asks once things are a little less hectic.

“Yeah. Let’s roll.”

They sneak out the front door to the porch and the swing and take their spots, the mist from the storm spraying onto them just slightly.

“Your neck,” Adriana says immediately over the sound of the heavy rain.

Guillermo touches it gingerly, blushing. “So uh… Nandor and I kind of— Maybe we’re more of a thing than I thought.”

Her eyebrows are high, face delighted. “So it was like a sexy bite?”

“Definitely.” He sips at his coffee. “You could actually just… take the y off.”

“Memo!” she exclaims excitedly, pushing at him with her free hand. “That’s awesome! Congrats or whatever!”

He laughs a little embarrassedly. “Er, thanks, I think.”

“So are you guys together together or what?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Do you want to be?”

He thinks of Nandor, of all his little quirks and abnormalities, and finds himself nodding. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then make a move, Memo! Let him know!”

He snorts. “How? I think we’re both afraid to say it.”

“Well… what does he like?”

“Um, human things. Anything that he doesn’t get to encounter in his usual life. Things like dancing, going for walks, animals, just… yeah. Human things.”

She shrugs. “Bring him something human.”

“Like what?”

Adriana looks out to the falling rain, then smirks. “Bring him that frog.”

Guillermo can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, bring it to him. You said he likes animals and things he never gets to see. So, a frog covered in morning rain.”

“That is so dumb and you know it.”

“Frog him, frog him,” she begins chanting quietly, rising in volume. “Frog him! Frog him!”

“Alright, alright, fine,” he says, laughing. “But it’s not going to work.”

He hands her his coffee mug and walks out into the pouring rain, scooping up the little tree frog easily and cupping it in his hands. He’s soaked when he gets back to the porch, and Adriana is definitely not laughing at him.

“Open the door,” he says, rolling his eyes, and she puts their mugs on the ground to do so.

“Good luck,” she whispers, grinning.

His face is burning as he makes his way upstairs, shouldering that door open. “Nandor,” he whispers, elbowing the light switch on.

Nandor is already up and sitting cross-legged in the coffin, staring at him expectantly. “Hello,” he whispers back, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you showered without me.”

“I— ah,” he squeaks, then clears his throat. “No, uh, it’s raining really hard outside. Super dark. Um, anyway, I uh— I brought you something.”

He perks up. “Another flower?”

“No, just— hold out your hands. And be gentle.”

Nandor does as he’s told, and Guillermo deposits a small green frog into them.

Nandor is enraptured.

“It’s a tree frog,” Guillermo says. “Um, wet with morning rain. I thought you might— thought you might like it.”

Nandor watches it crawl across his palm, sees its heartbeat in its throat. “Thank you,” he whispers sincerely. He jolts when it jumps from his hand to his bare chest, then smiles softly. “You said it is raining?”

“Yeah, a real big storm. We’re— ugh, we’re probably going to have to redo everything.”

Nandor lets the tree frog rest on his chest and looks to the curtains. “Guillermo?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to make one of those stupid decisions you told me not to make.”

“Uh—”

Nandor crawls out of the coffin and stands with his back against the far wall, pausing a moment. “It’ll probably be fine.” And before Guillermo can stop him, he sticks his hand between the curtain and the window.

“NANDOR!” he yells unintentionally, running over, but Nandor pulls his hand back, unharmed.

“It’s dark enough,” Nandor says, eyes bright. “Can I go outside?”

Guillermo’s heart is still hammering in his chest, his hand still outstretched. “Holy fucking shit,” he breathes out shakily. “I don’t— I don’t know if that’s safe—”

Nandor throws open the curtains, and Guillermo feels his soul leave his body.

Rain falls heavily against the glass pane but no real light comes in. Nandor is silhouetted against darkness, bare and beautiful and resplendent. “Please? I want to take our little friend home.” He turns to gaze back at Guillermo, and he looks— human. He looks human. He looks like he’s asking for the world in a simple gesture. Let me go outside. Let me climb from this tower. It’s all I want. Just this once. I miss the morning.

Guillermo is grateful for the water still dripping from his hair, because he’s crying. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, okay, um— get, get dressed.”

Nandor pulls on boxers and jeans and a plaid, but does not button it. The frog sits steady on his unbeating heart, open shirt fluttering around it. He follows Guillermo downstairs, barefoot, and they pause at the front door. Guillermo is shaking.

“What if you die?” he whispers, afraid.

“What if I don’t?” Nandor whispers back, and opens the door on his own.

The next second is slow motion: Nandor taking a step onto the front porch, in the morning, with rain falling down. Adriana looks back, surprised, and then she’s smiling and Nandor is in the rain and everything is back in focus, back in time. Nandor has his face tilted to the sky, rain falling in rivulets down his entire body. He cups the frog into his hands and takes it to a nearby tree, depositing it.

“Guillermo,” he calls out, looking back, happier than Guillermo has ever seen him in his life. “Look! There are little bugs!”

Guillermo follows him into the rain. It feels like rain is all he can hear, a soft onslaught surrounding them, blocking out everything else. Nandor is standing barefoot in the rain. Guillermo could not be more in love.

Nandor is still a distance away, but something changes in his eyes, something resolves. “Can I make things worse again?” he yells over the rain.

Guillermo nods wordlessly, and one step, two, ten, each increasing in speed, until Nandor grabs Guillermo’s face and kisses him hard, colliding into him with such force that they almost topple themselves over. Guillermo grabs at his shirt, pulling him in closer, giving as good as he gets. Nandor’s thumbs are smoothing over harsh stubble, and it pours and pours and pours, and neither of them let go.

When they finally part to the sound of Adriana cheering, they do not go far; Guillermo is breathing in Nandor’s air.

“I love you,” Nandor tells him, all close and personal, and Guillermo smiles in a way Nandor has to capture.

“I love you, too,” Guillermo promises, and then Adriana is yelling at them to get a room, and they’re laughing and running over to pull her out into the rain, too, and for a moment, just a moment, they are all, achingly, human.

It takes two towels a piece to dry off, but then they’re in the coffin again, close, warm. They’re holding each other, whispering secrets and apologies and professions with the same intensity they’re whispering about insignificant things. The words are often cut off with a kiss, sentences lost and found again hours later, until they’re falling asleep, cozy, content.

Nandor wakes up before Guillermo does, and he just looks for a while. Just observes. Just memorizes. He brushes back some of Guillermo’s hair and presses a kiss to his forehead, and when he backs up, Guillermo is awake, staring right back at him.

“Hi,” Nandor whispers.

“Hey,” Guillermo whispers back.

“Are you ready to wake up?”

“Absolutely not,” he jokes, and they both chuckle softly. “But we probably have to, huh. Lot to fix for the ceremony.”

“Yes,” Nandor agrees, bringing Guillermo’s hand to his mouth to kiss it. “I will not let them separate us again.”

“Thank you,” Guillermo responds sincerely, and they get up and get dressed.

It’s as Nandor is remembering the previous night that he suddenly says, “Fuck-ing shit.”

Guillermo looks over from where he’s adjusting the collar of his turtleneck. “What?”

“Your family.”

“What about them?”

“They’re vampires.”

“Yeah, um, glad you figured that out? A little behind the ball game, there.”

Nandor scrubs his hand over his beard. “Guillermo,” he groans, “you’re not a virgin anymore. You smell different. And I’m the only one here not related to you.”

“…Fucking shit.”

Nandor opens the curtains and peers out into the night, then opens the window. “You’re going to have to pretend to come in from town to have a believable excuse. I can fly you down there to—”

“What if I don’t?”

Nandor stops, turns to him. “What?”

“I just— what if I don’t? What if I just… stop hiding?”

Nandor weighs his words carefully. “Is that what you want to do?”

Guillermo tugs on the collar of his own turtleneck for a moment, then shirks it off entirely, grabbing a button-up instead. “I’m not ashamed of you,” he says sincerely.

“I know. It’s not about that. Hiding from them does not mean you are ashamed of me.”

“I think I’m done hiding. You’re gonna be beside me, right?”

“Always, nafasam.”

“Then let’s just… go downstairs. Fuck it.”

Nandor’s lips quirk into a little grin. “If I need to viciously murder anyone, let me know.”

Guillermo winks. “Think I’ve got it covered.”

“Oh, that’s sexy. We should have fun with that when we get home,” Nandor says seriously, opening the door for him.

“Yeah?” Guillermo says low, a little more interested than he probably should be.

Nandor nods. “Absolutely yes. Be thinking about it.” They walk downstairs together, chatting, and when they make it to the landing, all movement ceases.

Every vampire is staring at the two of them, then at Guillermo’s throat, then Guillermo as a whole. It’s silent.

Adriana meets his eyes and can’t help but grin.

“What got messed up with the storm?” Guillermo asks, rubbing his hands together.

Alya sighs, oblivious. “A few of the string lights came down, as well as the flowers. I think most of the bows are gone, too.”

Victor pats her hand. “Yeah, not as bad as it could’ve been, but not good, either.”

“Nandor and I can take tracking down the bows,” Guillermo says, looking to him for approval.

Nandor nods. “Yes, I can fly us over and we can collect them. They could not have gone far. Shall we?” He holds out his elbow, and Guillermo links his arm through it.

“Let’s go, no use waiting around.” They go to the front door, or well, about a few steps in that direction, anyway. Guillermo freezes before they get there, heart dropping into his feet.

“Mijo!” the woman calls out excitedly, and before Guillermo can do so much as cover up his throat, Silvia de la Cruz has him in her arms, hugging him tightly.

“Oh yeah,” Gerald says, grinning at him. “Forgot to tell ya: your mom’s here.”

They’re sitting in the kitchen awkwardly, the three of them: Nandor, Guillermo, and Silvia.

Silvia is patching up Guillermo’s throat while constantly throwing glares Nandor’s way. Nandor, for his part, looks apologetic.

“How long?” Silvia asks, voice cold as she slathers Neosporin onto Guillermo’s throat. He winces.

“It’s only been—”

“Mi hijo, un familiar.”

“Mamá, no es—”

She silences him with a look, then turns her icy gaze to Nandor. “And you,” she hisses. “His throat! ¡Mira!”

“I don’t know where any mirrors are,” Nandor laments quietly, desperately wanting to be of help. “I am sorry. Guillermo, tell her I’m sorry?”

“She understands, she’s just being difficult,” he retorts, matching his mother’s glare for oh, about half a second before his eyes drop. “Lo siento, mamá.”

She grabs a few large bandaids without saying a word.

Nandor squirms, then offers helpfully, “Guillermo has been working for me for over a decade now, and there is truly nothing to fear about—”

Silvia is saying very angry things that Nandor cannot understand, but based on Guillermo’s wide, pale face, he probably doesn’t want to, anyway. Guillermo is trying to calm her down, but before he can manage it, there is a stake pressed to Nandor’s throat.

“You should be twins,” she threatens, and Nandor can’t move.

“Mamá!” Guillermo scolds, grabbing her wrist. They glare at one another before Silvia finally puts the stake away, and Guillermo gets a second to process that. “You’re a slayer,” he breathes low, low enough no one else can hear.

“Sí,” she responds the same. “We come from a long line of—”

“I know.” He furrows his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To keep you away from monsters like him,” she growls. “If I had known—”

“Mrs. Guillermo’s mom,” Nandor begins, but Silvia bares her teeth at him and he falls silent.

“Mamá,” Guillermo picks up where he left off, “I’m a slayer, too.”

She squints at him, then at Nandor. “¿Él no es tu maestro?”

“Sí, pero…” He trails off, unsure. “I’m his bodyguard.”

Silvia looks to Nandor suspiciously, who nods enthusiastically. “It is true,” Nandor says. “Your son has personally wiped out ninety percent of the vampires in Staten Island.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “¿De verdad?”

“Sí, sí.” Guillermo can see her hackles lower, just slightly. “This is Nandor. Nandor, this is my mother, Silvia.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Nandor says, holding out his hand hesitantly.

Silvia just stares at it, then at him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you want to be a vampire?”

Guillermo is about to reprimand her for respecting privacy, but Nandor responds, simply, “I didn’t.”

She gestures to his entire being, and Nandor nods somberly.

“I know. The choice was made for me. I was not consulted.”

Something in her eyes truly softens, enough for even Nandor to see. She uncrosses her arms and sighs. “Fine. But know that I do not approve.”

“I will do my best to earn your favor,” Nandor promises, and for half a second, it almost looks like she smiles.

“Memo,” she begins, “ve a la tienda.” She hands him a list of groceries to get, and he groans. “Shush. And take Tyler.”

“Fine. Nandor, c’mon, we have to go to the store again.”

“Ah, Nandor is staying here.” Silvia pats his knee in a moderately threatening way. “With me.”

Nandor shakes his head. “No, I cannot. I promised Memo that I would not let them separate us again.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“They were being very mean to him.”

Guillermo grimaces. “Nandor—”

“Mean how?” Silvia asks.

“Mamá.”

“Calling him very mean names and making him feel inferior. Which, as I have told him, is not true.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Guillermo covers his face with both hands. “Please, we’re only here for a few more days. Don’t make things worse.”

“Can’t be worse if they’re dead,” she quips easily, and Nandor nods sagely.

“That, too, is what I recommended.”

“I’m leaving,” Guillermo says, backing away. “I’m not going to be an accessory to murder.”

“But—” Nandor begins, then shuts his mouth with a ferocious look from Guillermo. “Right, okay, no crimes for you, then.”

“Tyler!” Guillermo yells out, and his head peeks out from a room silently. “You’re coming with me.”

Tyler nods and shrugs, following him. Adriana looks up from her task as they leave. “Hey!” she yells out. “Where you taking my brother?”

“La tienda,” Guillermo yells back.

“Real informative! Thanks!” she snarks, then goes back to what she was doing.

They slide into Guillermo’s car and take off. Guillermo fishes the list out from his pocket and hands it to Tyler. “Hey, can you plot a path of least resistance from this?”

Tyler nods once and studies the list.

“You’re one of the good ones, man,” Guillermo tells him, putting on his turn signal, and Tyler gives him a small smile.

When they get back, Guillermo finds Nandor dancing in the kitchen with his mother.

It isn’t a— It isn’t the sort of dancing that makes him want to curl up and die; they’re stepping on each other’s feet and giggling and laughing.

They’re dancing like old friends.

The radio is playing some old song Guillermo doesn’t recognize, but apparently both of them do. It’s a silly, swaying sort of dance, in time with the music as they traipse about the kitchen. Nandor dips his mother and finally sees him, smiling wide. “Memo!” he exclaims. “We are friends!”

“That was fast,” he remarks, setting down some bags. Tyler — oh god, he’s so quiet Guillermo forgot he was there — sets his down too and leaves the room, probably to go find Adriana.

He swings Silvia back onto her feet, ending the dance in a pretty twirl. Her cheeks are red and her hair’s a mess, but she looks happy.

“He is a good one,” Silvia tells Guillermo, still smiling. “Knows the important dances.”

“Dance was the most beautiful thing humans ever started doing,” Nandor tells her, and she nods in agreement.

“He is so very old! Not young and stuffy like the vampires here,” she motions to the house around them. “And he tells me of cooking! Why did you not bring him around sooner?”

Guillermo thinks back to her stake pressed to Nandor’s throat and decides the best course of action is to shrug like he doesn’t know the answer.

“He is welcome any time,” Silvia stresses, then begins rifling through the grocery bags. “Go on now, go do your work. I am making us humans supper. You are free to join us when it is ready, Nandor.”

“Gracias,” Nandor responds, and Guillermo raises his eyebrows at him.

“De nada,” Silvia says back, and then she’s shooing them out of her kitchen entirely.

It’s still dark outside, and still wet from the earlier rain, but everyone is doing their best to reset things. Even Gerald is too busy to make a big scene.

“Ready to fly?” Nandor asks, wrapping Guillermo up in his arms.

“Don’t drop me,” Guillermo says seriously, and Nandor laughs and lifts off.

The night air is cold and biting, and Guillermo clings tight to Nandor. The bows they’re looking for are white, which makes them stand out wonderfully against the landscape.

It’s a lot of swooping and grabbing and swooping again, and Guillermo’s stomach is doing nice little flips for many reasons. He keeps thinking back to the morning, to Nandor outside in the rain with him, early enough for coffee, early enough for it to feel… normal. Coffee with Adriana has always been one of Guillermo’s favorite things, and being able to share it with Nandor was simply profound.

He wants to take Nandor for a sunny picnic. He wants it in his bones.

He’s busy thinking of ways to make a fake sun (maybe under a streetlight?) when Nandor lands them in a field.

“I need to stretch,” he explains simply, then proceeds to do so. “This is where I found one of the horses.”

“Huh,” Guillermo says simply. “Hey um, how did you and my mom like… hit it off so fast?”

Nandor shrugs. “I told her I understood what it was like. To want to reject tradition. To love someone enough to do so.” He’s staring at Guillermo with something heavy in his eyes. “You’re a vampire slayer. I’m a vampire. Loving you is about as clean a break of the rules as I am going to get.”

Guillermo can feel the blush rising to his cheeks. “Oh. Um— I— yeah, I uh— you, too.”

He smiles at him with nothing but love. “I did not tell her about our more… recent developments. That is not my place.”

“Someone’s going to tell her,” Guillermo says, shaking his head. “Whether to piss off me or her.”

“Will she be pissed? She loves you very much. We talked at length about love.”

“Think so. Very Catholic. Very religious.”

“She’s a slayer, Guillermo.”

“Fair. I guess, honestly, I don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough.” Guillermo stretches his arms high up. “Hey, Nandor?”

“Yes?”

“You said you didn't have a choice. About the…”

“Vampirism,” Nandor supplies.

“Right. Do you— Can I ask what happened?”

Nandor purses his lips. “Yes, you may ask. It's not a pleasant story.”

“Not all of them are.”

Nandor tilts his head. “That is true. Um… sit.”

Guillermo sits cross-legged in the field, and Nandor does the same regally before him.

“I… was a warrior,” Nandor begins. “A viceroy. You know this.”

“Yes.”

“I hated it.”

“What?”

“It was— interesting, I suppose, but I did not enjoy the— the killing part. I liked accompanying my men. I liked strategizing. I liked fighting. But the actual end result, the conquest, the war, I— I did not care for.”

Nandor is looking out across the darkened field, watching fireflies blink slowly.

“I wanted… I wanted to be a poet.” He sits marginally straighter, as if to compensate. “I made the mistake of telling that to my superiors.”

When Nandor does not continue, Guillermo prompts, “What happened?”

Nandor shakes his head. “They kidnapped me in the night. I was— I was too good at being a viceroy, I'm afraid. They couldn't let me go. I was taken deep into the earth, some long-lost tunnel or cave or— I don't know. I was tossed in, and the entrance sealed.”

A firefly lands on his shoulder, and he looks at it sadly.

“Vampires change with the times,” he whispers. “The younger ones blend in. The older ones… they can't. They are monstrous. Something beyond human comprehension. That is what I faced in that cave.”

“They just sacrificed you?”

“Yes. No. I ran, used the cave to try and escape, but he cut me off at every end. I think he enjoyed it, until he didn't. He trapped me and told me they wanted me bloodthirsty. And he made me bloodthirsty.”

“Nandor—”

“And they left me there. For three days. When they finally moved the rock, I wasn't me anymore. I couldn't control my actions. They used— crucifixes and holy water to herd me onto the battlefield. And I slaughtered them all.” He puts his head in his hands. “Not just the enemies.”

Guillermo moves forward, hands going to Nandor’s knees. “I'm so sorry,” he whispers.

“I never wanted this, Guillermo. I—” his breath comes out shaky, “I wanted to write about the sun.”

“You do,” Guillermo says, and it is thick and choked.

Nandor looks up, eyes red-rimmed. “What?”

“You— when I first started working for you, I asked you your favorite color. And it's— You said gold across buildings, a translucent sort of— of orange and I don't think you remember it's the sunset. You… your favorite color is the sunset.”

Nandor leans back in the grass and stares at the night sky like he might can find the sun hiding there. “You're right,” he whispers. “I don't remember.”

Guillermo hesitates, then goes over to lay beside him. Their shoulders touch. Their pinkies wind around the other. “What's your favorite verse?” Guillermo asks quietly.

Nandor says something he doesn't understand.

“What does that mean?”

Nandor turns to face him, to memorize his outline in the moonlight. “They asked, 'Do you love her to death?' I said, 'Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.'“

Guillermo exhales a rush of air. “That is— that's beautiful.”

Nandor scoots onto his side, presses himself closer. “If the devil were to ever see you, he would kiss your eyes and repent.” He touches Guillermo's face gently, feels it gaining heat under his skin.

“Je— shit,” Guillermo breathes, heart thudding. “Are they all so… intense?”

“From the base of her neck to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty has made a slave of me.”

“I feel that one.”

Nandor gives him a soft smile. “The sun rises in the depths of your lips: come, love, and warm me.”

Guillermo presses a kiss to Nandor’s mouth. “I like that one,” he whispers.

“I wrote that one,” Nandor whispers back.

“Just now?”

“No,” he admits, pressing another kiss to him. “I wrote that when I was visiting you at Celeste's. When I was trying to get you back.”

“You wrote that for me?” Guillermo breathes.

“I've written a thousand for you,” Nandor whispers back, and before he can write a thousand more, Guillermo kisses him senseless.

They return with the many bows and put them back on every chair, tying them on extra tight this time. When that is finished they restring the lights and help Avalon staple flowers where they need to be. By the end, their shoes are soaked and muddy beyond recognition, and the decorations are all practically done. It looks ready for a wedding.

Nandor grabs baby Cyrus before anyone else can and sneaks inside, Guillermo on his heels.

“Hello small child,” Nandor is cooing lovingly. “You are going to grow so big and strong!”

“What, with these tiny feet?” Guillermo teases, reaching out to poke at Russ's little toes. Russ laughs and holds his arms out for Guillermo, who takes him gently.

“Ah, wonderful with children,” Nandor notes, smiling crookedly.

“Who said I wasn't?” Guillermo quips back. “Probably his bed time soon, though. Where's Alya?”

Nandor tilts his head, listening, then points to the kitchen. “Talking with your mother.”

They almost bump into her as they walk through the doorway. She looks up, startled, with mascara running down her cheeks.

“Alya—” Guillermo begins, concerned, but she grabs Cyrus and barrels past them silently. “Mamá! What did you do?”

Silvia shakes her head, kneading a large slab of dough. “I said nothing. She is upset. She's like me. Victor, también.”

“Mamá, yo no sé—”

“Are you making bread?” Nandor interrupts, intrigued.

“Sí,” Silvia responds. “Pan.”

Nandor's eyes light up. “Bale! Naan!” He looks over his shoulder, then to Guillermo. “Asalam, nooshe jan.”

Guillermo waits patiently.

“You stay here and eat bread, yes? I'll go talk with Alya.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. I would sacrifice myself for you,” Nandor says casually, then leaves the room.

“What,” Guillermo deadpans, and Silvia shrugs.

“Must be a Persian thing. Come, sit. Come.”

Guillermo pulls a seat up to the bar and watches his mother bake bread like he has a thousand times before. His mouth is already watering.

Silvia pours him a glass of milk and sits it before him. “You want to talk. I can see it in your eyes, mijo.”

He takes a sip and nods. “I… I want to talk about Papá.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “You've never asked that before.”

“Neither have you.”

“De verdad,” she admits softly. “What do you want to know?”

“You both had it,” he whispers. “Eternal life. Forever. He didn't have to— He didn't have to die. Why was— Did you not want it?”

“No,” Silvia admits softly. She takes a fresh loaf from the oven and replaces it with the uncooked dough. The timer is set.

“What was it?” Guillermo asks, staring down at his glass. “What made you both give up eternal life?”

“Well,” his mom begins, drying her sturdy hands on her apron, “we wanted you.”

Guillermo looks up in shock, tries to read her face. “What?”

“We decided the two of us were too small of a family. We decided that life, even an eternal one, was too lonely for us. We wanted you. Nuestro pequeño Memo.” She stares at him evenly, a small smile on her face. “How can you raise a child without the sun?”

And Guillermo has never felt so loved.

“You gave up eternity for me,” he repeats, and it catches in his throat a little, that there is a quantifiable amount he is loved, and it is as far as time reaches and beyond in every direction.

“Sí, mi corazón.”

“I'm gay.” There were a million better opportunities to say it, a thousand other ways it could have come out of his mouth, but it's there and tripping off his tongue anyway.

“Obviously,” his mother jokes, setting down the fresh loaf of bread, and Guillermo puts his head in his hands and sobs.

He feels his mom's arms encircle him, while some vague, theater-driven part of his brain is thinking I told you that I am everything I thought you hated. That you wasted your eternity on this son before you.

And the soft press of her lips to his hair responds Break bread with me. Eternity is loathsome and somber. There is nowhere I desire more than here. There is nothing I love more than you.

He cries in her arms, clinging to her like a lifeline. With his eyes closed, for half a second, he can imagine his dad is still right there with him. “I m-miss-s h-him,” Guillermo sobs, and it's only just clear enough to make out.

Silvia takes in her own shuddery breath, wipes her own wet face, and pulls back enough to hold his cheeks in her hands and smile. “He is right here, chiquito. I see him right here.” She rubs one thumb over his cheek softly, then seems to suddenly regain herself, brushing her wet hair back, drying her eyes. “Besides, what good was forever if I could not bake him bread?”

He watches his mother return to the oven, stronger than any creature of the night could hope to be. “But there wou-ldn't be this g-grief,” he insists, tears still cascading.

She re-rolls her sleeves. “If you think eternity is a way to escape grief, then I am sorry, Memo. It only ensures it will never end.”

Guillermo can't speak, can only watch her through blurry tears as his shirt gets wetter and wetter.

Silvia glances back at him, then pauses in baking to bring him a warm washcloth. “You can keep your eternal life, mi corazón,” she whispers as she soothes his tears. “My heaven will always look like coffee in the morning sun with your father.”

She breaks off a piece of bread and hands it to him, and it tastes just like it did when he was a kid, sitting on the concrete steps to their apartment, counting cars with his father.

He thinks of sunlight, thinks of eternity, and thinks that losing those memories would destroy him entirely.

“It's getting late,” Silvia whispers to him. “I'm sure your novio is waiting.” When he doesn't argue against it, she grins. “I like him.”

“Yeah,” Guillermo says, and something about the word threatens new tears. “Me, too.”

He makes his way up the stairs, eyes puffy and red, and stops to hear Nandor still speaking quietly with Alya in another room. He knocks lightly, and the voices hush.

“Come in, Memo,” Nandor says, and he peeks into the door.

Alya has stopped crying, at least, but not by much. She takes in the state of him. “Silvia?” she asks, and he just nods.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice a bit rough still.

She shakes her head. “I can't do this,” she breathes. “I can't become a vampire. I don't want this. Victor doesn't want this. But he can't lose his family, either.” She wipes roughly at her eyes. “He can't be Silvia.”

“You wouldn't lose me,” Guillermo offers. “Or Adriana or Tyler. Or Mom. And you have Victor and Cyrus. That's— That's the makings of a family.”

“But we'd lose Essie,” she begins. “He's too young to decide to come see us. He—” Her voice shudders and breaks. “He'd lose his own brother. And sister. Avalon wouldn't— I don't think she'd speak to us again. I— I can't do that to him.”

“You might have to let him make that decision himself.”

“God,” she curses, “why is your family so fucked?!”

“Just the vampire ones,” he whispers, and he wishes in his soul that that wasn't true. He glances at Nandor. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I told her the same thing.”

“Alya, you—”

They're cut off by a car door slamming outside.

They peer at each other, then all scramble to the window to see who could be going somewhere this close to sunrise.

“Is that—”

“Tyler?”

They're running down the stairs, and Nandor pauses at the door before Guillermo promises they have time, but only if they hurry. The clouds are already turning pink, and Nandor does his best to memorize it.

“Tyler!” Alya calls out, chest heaving. “What are you doing?!”

Tyler looks at them all, nervous, then points to the road.

“You're leaving?”

He nods.

“You don't even have a license!”

He leans down to tap on the window, and the driver's side opens. A girl no one but Guillermo recognizes steps out.

“Iris,” he says.

She runs her hand through her long hair and looks to the house. “Adriana sent me.”

“To get him?”

She nods. “Says he's been getting overwhelmed here with— everything.” She's wringing her hands. She's anxious. “I want to take her, too.”

“Nandor,” Guillermo commands immediately, “go get Adriana. Tell her she's leaving.”

Nandor is obeying before he's even finished speaking.

Guillermo turns to Alya and takes her shoulders in his hands. “If you are going, you have to go now. You can pretend it's an emergency, something with Tyler.”

Alya is shaking her head, fire in her eyes. “I'm done pretending,” she says, and she's running back to the house to grab the essentials: Victor and Cyrus.

Guillermo turns back to Iris. “Take care of Adriana,” he pleads. “She's been my best friend for as long as I can remember.”

Iris gives him a small smile. “Let me guess: Memo.”

“Yeah.”

“Heard all about you, too. She's in good hands.” They watch as Nandor carts Adriana out of the house, bags packed with vampiric speed and thrown haphazardly into the trunk. Adriana hugs Nandor tightly, kisses Guillermo on the cheek, and then Iris on the lips.

“Let's go, now,” she says urgently, and the car is speeding away, Tyler waving goodbye from the passenger seat.

Alya's car beeps as Victor unlocks it from the house, and they turn to see Silvia helping them with their bags. Their car is packed just as fast, Russ in his car seat, and hugs are exchanged quicker than the dust settles from Iris's ride.

“Thank you,” Alya whispers to Nandor.

“It was my pleasure,” he whispers back, and then they're creating their own trail of dust, and the drive is silent.

Silvia de la Cruz looks over to the two of them. “You should go, too,” she informs them. “I am.”

“You're not staying to see things fall apart?” Guillermo asks.

She shakes her head sadly. “It does not bring me joy to see those I once loved in such… anger.”

He watches her and sees in her something he never saw in his family: forgiveness. “Why did you come here?” Guillermo asks suddenly.

“I was invited,” she responds, smiling, and then she too is disappearing into the house.

Nandor is looking up at the pink clouds. “Are we leaving?”

Guillermo looks to the house he spent summers in, the house that his abuela played hide and seek with him in, the house that spat him back out the moment he stopped conforming. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Let's go.”

They leave the same way they came: with Nandor in a duffel bag.

The radio isn't playing anything right, so Guillermo rolls the windows down and listens to the wind, instead. A lot of things are going through his mind, and more than anything he wants to lay down in his bed and get one more day of normalcy.

But there is a 700-year-old warrior bat in his clothing bag, and maybe normal isn't an option, anymore.

Still.

The sun feels nice.

He wishes it didn’t. He wishes he hated the sun, hated morning coffee, hated watching flowers open, hated the crisp morning air. He wishes he hated food, hated cooking, hated quiet. But that’s not how these things work. Something feels a bit more real in his chest about it, about what he’s giving up to become a vampire. But he’s thinking about Nandor’s lips against his own, and what he’s gaining is a bit more real, too.

He’s thinking about holding out a piece of sushi over that old, wooden table, trying to share.

When he stops at a gas station, he texts Nadja to let her know they’re about an hour out. She sends back a picture of her giving a thumbs-up, and his heart swells with love. He’s going home. He’s going home.

The last hour is uneventful, not even the road making too much noise through the tires of his car. He pulls into the driveway and it’s still daylight.

He picks up the duffel gently and heads inside, locking the door behind him.

Nothing is on fire. Nothing is covered in unidentifiable goop. All in all, it’s better than he was expecting.

He unzips the duffel just to find a little bat, fast asleep, bunched up in sweaters and shirts.

He laughs fondly, picking Nandor up gently and carrying him upstairs.

Nadja pokes her head out of her doorway sleepily, rubbing at her eyes. Her dressing gown isn’t even tied closed, but at this point, Guillermo’s sort of used to it.

“Welcome home,” she yawns. “How was the everything?”

“Bad. Then good.”

She hums, then blinks her eyes open a bit more. “Your throat.”

“Yeah, so—”

“Oh, is that Nandor in your hands there? The little baby bat? How cute.” She reaches out and pokes him.

“Nadja—”

The bat flaps its wings irritably, and then suddenly Guillermo is holding an entire vampire in his arms. Nandor lifts his head. “Are we home?”

“Yeah. We are.”

Nandor looks at the ground, then at Guillermo. “You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Thank… you…?”

“Hello, Nandor,” Nadja says sweetly, tilting his head back and giving him an upside-down kiss. “We missed you. We made much love on top of your coffin.”

Nandor grimaces. “Thanks,” he deadpans.

“Is that Nandor and Gizmo?” Laszlo calls out from inside his room.

“Yes it is! They have returned to us in one piece each!” She suddenly smirks. “Well, minus a bite out of Gizmo.”

There’s a loud thud, and then Laszlo is at the door, eyes wide. “What? Really? Is he finally a vampire?”

“Okay so—”

Laszlo sniffs the air, then grins salaciously.

Nandor sees his look and points vaguely towards his own room, tugging at Guillermo’s collar. “We should probably—”

“It is about time you made a move, Nandor!” Laszlo exclaims happily. “I thought the house was going to smell like virgin Gizmo for eternity.”

Nandor sighs heavily. “Yes yes we are all very happy about it now please fuck off.”

Nadja is sidling up to Guillermo, grinning. “You must tell us all about it.”

“Please don’t,” Nandor pleads.

“You as well!” Laszlo announces. “What did our dear little familiar blood bag taste like?”

Nandor takes Guillermo’s chin in his hand and tilts it down, thumbing over his bottom lip. “Let’s go to my room,” he murmurs, and how can Guillermo deny that?

“Later,” he tells Nadja and Laszlo unceremoniously, and then he’s carrying Nandor bridal-style to his room and locking the door behind them.

Nandor has an amused look on his face. “You can put me down now.”

“Oh, right.” Guillermo gently sets Nandor on his feet. “You’re— You’re probably exhausted, so—”

Nandor cuts him off with a deep kiss, hands smoothing down his sides. “I can stay awake a while longer,” he whispers against his mouth.

“N-Nadja and Laszlo can hear—”

Nandor pushes him back against the door. “Let them hear,” he breathes, and then he’s kissing Guillermo with everything he has.

They do their best to ignore the cheering.

Nandor’s coffin is pretty small.

Not to say Guillermo doesn’t enjoy cuddling — he does — but it’s a far cry from the double-wide they had at his abuela’s house. Once Nandor is fast asleep, sated, smiling, Guillermo crawls out and redresses, then gets to work assessing damage.

Laszlo, Nadja, and Colin honestly hadn’t done too bad keeping the house in array: the only real issue is the trail of blood leading to and from the most well-travelled parts of the house.

With a bit of peroxide and a specialized scrubbing brush, he gets to work.

It doesn’t occur to him not to work. He takes care of them. It’s what he does. He’s good at it, and besides, he kind of likes it.

There is something relaxing about cleaning up messes; he’s always sort of thought that. Maybe it’s that his mom used to throw open all the curtains and windows, put on some music, and toss him a mop. They’d clean in the fresh morning air, the floorboards drying in the sunlight, both singing horribly to Selena. Or maybe it was doing the dishes with his father after supper, his papá washing, him drying. How they’d talk about everything, and nothing, with stupid little inside jokes that made his mom just roll fond eyes.

Maybe it’s that cooking and cleaning have always meant I love you, and there’s only one of the two he can do here.

He stops scrubbing for a moment, leaning back onto the toes of his shoes. Maybe he could cook for Nandor. Even though he couldn’t eat it, maybe the— maybe the act itself would be enough.

Or maybe it would make him unbearably sad.

He’s thinking about Nandor saying gracias, about Nandor dancing with his mother, and he just suddenly, inexplicably, needs to go outside.

He leaves his cleaning supplies there — not like any of them would ever touch it, anyway — and walks out the front door. He sits on the steps, just sits on them, feels the radiating warmth from the bricks. People are walking on the sidewalk outside, just passing by, not paying him any notice. People going about their daily lives: kids on bikes, mothers with strollers, an old man talking animatedly on a flip phone.

He feels his phone buzz and he takes it out. Adriana, texting to say she made it, that she’s staying with Iris for a few days, her and Tyler.

Guillermo responds good, responds I’m home, too.

She says sorry we missed our coffee.

He says o woe is me, i cannot live without it.

She responds with a laughing face, because he’s joking, of course he’s joking, but maybe he isn’t, actually, after all.

You owe me coffee and I’m gonna come up there to get it, he says. How’s Thursday?

And she says, i wouldn’t miss it for the world.

He finishes cleaning up the blood trail, then goes about dusting a few things that really need it. By the time Nandor wakes up, he’s finished all his chores.

He goes upstairs to collect Nandor, only to find him already awake, a little grumpy, and extremely cute.

“Hi,” Guillermo says, giving him a goofy smile.

Nandor crosses his arms and pouts. “I woke up with zero cuddles.”

“That upset you?”

“Yes, but you can make up for it right now,” he says, but there is a tease to his voice, and Guillermo allows himself to be pulled into an embrace. “See? Much better,” Nandor mumbles against his lips, kissing them reverently.

“You’re very right,” Guillermo agrees. “Take it up with Nadja and Laszlo; they left a trail of blood through the entire house.”

Nandor sort of blinks at him, tilts his head a bit. “Do you… like cleaning?”

“I guess I do, yeah.”

“Because you don’t have to. We could… hire someone, if it bothers you.”

“Oh, look at you, being thoughtful.” Guillermo boops his nose playfully. “It’s okay.”

“What if I helped you?”

Guillermo pauses. “What?”

“I could learn. We could do it together.”

He tries to imagine Nandor the Relentless on his knees, scrubbing at carpet, and he just can’t. “I’m not sure you’re… built for that.”

Nandor makes some disgruntled noise. “Your mother taught me how to wash dishes! I can help with something, I’m sure.”

“She did?”

“She said good husbands make themselves useful.” He nods like he didn’t say something absolutely, batshit crazy.

“What’s that got to do with you?” Guillermo finds himself asking, reeling.

“I don’t really know,” he admits, and Guillermo lets out a breath. “But it seemed important to her. So I learned. Do we have dishes that need done?”

“Not right now, no.”

“Ah.”

Guillermo bites his own bottom lip, thinking, and Nandor kisses it gently.

“Hey,” Nandor whispers, “that’s my job, you know. Little vampire.”

Those two words set something between them. Little vampire.

“I—” Guillermo begins, then trails off. He isn’t sure what he wants to say, but Nandor seems to pick up on the gap.

“I don’t want you to think this is just because we fucked,” Nandor begins seriously. “I’ve been planning this for months.”

“Planning…?”

“Turning you. Making you a vampire. I have notes, if you wish, so you do not think it has anything to do with emotions.” Nandor suddenly turns and rummages through a drawer, pulling out a few sheets of notebook paper with drawings on them. “See?”

“What— What are you talking about?”

Nandor crumples the papers slightly in his hands, nervous, then hands them over with finality. “I want to make you a vampire. For realsies.”

Guillermo can’t feel his fingers.

“You have more than earned your keep, Guillermo. I should not have waited so long, but I cannot change the past.”

He traces his thumb over beautiful drawings of himself with fangs.

Nandor watches raptly. “So… do you accept?”

“What?” Guillermo asks, startled out of his thoughts.

“I sort of proposed vampirism to you, so you sort of have to either say yes or no.”

“I— yes, of course yes,” Guillermo responds, still shaken. “I’ve— This is what I’ve been waiting for all these years, right?”

“Right,” Nandor agrees, smiling wide at him. “Okay. When would you like to do it? Tonight? Tomorrow? Now?”

“I have coffee with Adriana on Thursday morning,” he finds himself saying. He’s still looking at the drawings. “I can’t miss that.”

“Oh! Tell her I said hello! How about that night, then?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Nandor studies him, then holds his shoulders gently. “I can tell this is a lot to take in.”

“I mean— yeah, absolutely, these past few days have been kind of nonstop.” Guillermo manages to tear his eyes away from the papers and smile at Nandor. “I’d be honored to be a vampire at your side, Nandor.”

“Good,” Nandor whispers back, taking his face in his hands and kissing it. “I would be honored to have you.”

“These are very good drawings.”

Nandor gives him a little shrug. “I told you, I have always been fascinated by art. Primarily poetry but… drawing did sneak its way in.”

“Can I keep these?”

“Of course, joonam.”

“What does that one mean?”

Nandor smiles at him, all love and devotion, and says, “My life.”

Colin Robinson is finally home from his job when Nandor and Guillermo make it downstairs. He grins upon seeing them, and Nandor almost just turns right back around.

“Heya, Gizmo,” Colin calls out. “Nice to hear you’re not an adult virgin anymore!”

“Speaking of adult virgins,” Laszlo calls out, “could we perhaps procure some more of those for the dungeon?”

Nandor rolls his eyes and ushers Guillermo out the door, into the night. “I will have a talk with them about how things will be moving around here from now on,” he mumbles, then looks up at the sky. “The stars are not as beautiful here as they were at your family’s home.”

“We’re in the city,” Guillermo tells him, stepping close and looking up, too. “All the lights hide them.”

Nandor links their pinkies together as they stand there, looking up. “How does the sunrise compare to this?”

“To the city night sky? Hardly a comparison.”

“To the true night sky.”

“Two different kinds of beautiful.”

Nandor closes his eyes for a moment, as if imagining the warmth of the sun, then looks down at Guillermo. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

“I think I’d love to.”

They walk for hours, talking about nothing, and everything, and whatever is in-between. They share words for things, experiences they’ve had, lives they’ve lived. They talk music, art, and, when the sky begins to turn purple, then pink, they find themselves back in the house, wishing for more time.

“Sleep through the day,” Nandor whispers, pulling Guillermo into the dark room lit by candlelight. “Wake up with me.”

“What do I get if I do?” Guillermo teases back quietly, and Nandor leans in to drag his fangs across his throat. His breath hitches. “That’s not—”

Nandor grins against his skin and the fangs become lips, kissing down. “Tell me what you want,” he purrs.

And what does Gullermo want? What would make the buzzing in his head go away? “Bite me?” he asks, because it’s what he knows how to ask.

Nandor drops to his knees.

He’s undoing pants button and zipper, much to Guillermo’s sudden— panic. “Uh,” he says, voice shaking, “wh-where are you gonna bite me?”

Nandor presses his nose to exposed boxers, then looks up at him, grinning. He hooks his thumb in the belt loops and pulls. Guillermo falls back against the coffin.

“Okay you can’t bite my—”

Nandor’s teeth are against his thigh, and he looks up, waiting.

“Oh you meant— okay, yeah, that’s— you can—”

Nandor rests his forehead against Guillermo’s hip as his shoulders shake with laughter. “I mean, unless you want me to bite your dick.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll just have to make do here,” Nandor whispers, then he sinks his fangs into Guillermo’s inner thigh.

It is— It’s a lot. It’s more than that bite as his throat was. It is tingly, and hot, and shuddery, and trusting, and more things he doesn’t really have the headspace to name right now.

“Hey,” Nandor says against his thigh, tongue rolling in lazy circles, slowly inching his way up. “Vampire slayer.”

“Mm?” Guillermo says, which is definitely a real word.

“You’ve got a monster right in front of you.” His tongue dives up under boxers, then back down. “Are you going to do something about that?”

“Think I’m good. You stay.”

Nandor rises to nip at his hips. “I think—” He freezes, looks up at him.

Guillermo’s grip on the stake tightens, using it to lift Nandor’s chin. “I said,” he repeats sweetly, “you stay.”

He can see the way Nandor’s pupils widen, the way the recently-consumed blood rushes to his cheeks. “Okay,” he whispers. He opens his mouth to run his tongue just under Guillermo’s waistband, not breaking eye contact.

Guillermo watches him, mesmerized. “What do you want?” he asks.

Nandor takes the waistband of the boxers in his teeth and pulls, sliding them from hips to thighs before he lets go. “Make me feel weak again.”

“Again? When have you ever felt weak?”

“Don’t make me say it.” Nandor bites at his hips, then soothes the small wounds with his tongue. “Use whatever is in your arsenal. Bring me to your mercy.”

Guillermo hears it, whether he was meant to or not. Nandor doesn’t have to say it, it’s there in the way he’s kneeling at his feet: Make me feel human again.

“Move back,” Guillermo whispers, gently moving the stake to push him away. He pulls up his boxers and pants, much to Nandor’s displeasure, and reaches around under the coffin until he finds one of a few bags of dirt. “Okay, come on.”

Nandor takes his hand and lets himself be led through the halls to—

“Really?” he asks, not unkindly but more… confused. “Your room?”

“You said you wanted to feel… well, and all my stuff is here.” He ushers Nandor in and closes the curtain, then drops the silver beaded curtain as well. No one should bother them. Except maybe Colin Robinson, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take.

“Your stuff?” Nandor pokes absently at the little toy coffin on the shelf.

“Lay down.”

Nandor looks to the bed, then to Guillermo. “Are you truly sure you wish to—”

Guillermo rolls his eyes and presses the flat of the stake to Nandor’s throat, pushing him back. Nandor’s knees buckle when they hit the bed, and he sits down heavily. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Nandor swallows, then sprawls out on the mattress. Guillermo tosses the bag of dirt under his bed, then opens a nearby drawer.

“To be clear, you’re giving me just… full control right now, right? You want to feel weak?”

“Right.” Nandor smirks. “What sexy times does the virgin-once-removed have planned?”

Guillermo pulls out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. “This, mostly.”

“Oh, those are cute!” Nandor is doing his damnedest to not burst out laughing. “Yes, of course, restrain me.” He goes so far as to rest his hands over his head, waiting.

Guillermo cuffs him to the bed and gives the fuzzy things a quick tug to make sure they’re secure. “Okay, yeah, that’ll work.”

“Of course,” Nandor says, trying for serious.

Guillermo crawls onto the bed, straddling Nandor’s hips. “So if you just— if I go too far, y’know, just say— I dunno, Colin Robinson.”

Nandor grimaces. “I won’t be saying that.”

“Just if you need to.”

“I won’t be needing to.” He gives Guillermo a playful smile. “Though I am very curious what you have planned that you think I might.”

“Well, if you want to feel weak, I was thinking we should be in the dark. But you can see in the dark. So—” He grabs a tie from his dresser and knots it around Nandor’s eyes. “Yeah. Now it can be dark for both of us.” He switches the lights off.

“It’s only fair,” Nandor agrees easily. “You’re very sweet, Guillermo.”

“Do you not want me to be sweet?”

“I want to feel weak. I’ve already told you.”

Guillermo worries his bottom lip, thinking about Nandor in the morning rain, Nandor baking food, Nandor staring at the stars. This man under him was meant to be human. Maybe the largest mercy he could ever show him would be a little cruel. “You’re lying,” he says low, trailing the point of the stake up under Nandor’s button-up, the same one he had stolen from the house.

Nandor shivers slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Nandor. I know you want to feel human. Just say it.”

“I do,” he admits. “But that’s not… possible, so weak would be the next greatest thing. And I’m afraid the only actual predator I have is— well, you.”

“And I’ve got you at my mercy.”

Nandor almost snorts. “Yes, with your blindfold and your very adorable handcuffs. I am trapped, o great slayer.”

Guillermo leans down to whisper in his ear. “You can touch me whenever you feel like it.” He sets the stake on Nandor’s stomach and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, but I am trapped,” Nandor responds slyly, giving a barely-there tug at the handcuffs. “Trapped by the great slayer. Woe is me.”

The last button comes undone and Guillermo drags his fingertips down Nandor’s torso lightly. “Exactly. Give me a second; I’ve gotta get some water.” Guillermo takes a swig of a bottle of water while Nandor lays, shirtless, patient. When he finally leans down and lets his breath ghost against Nandor’s nipple before dragging his tongue across it, Nandor realizes two things at once:

1. Guillermo de la Cruz just took a swig of holy water, and
2. The handcuffs aren’t breaking.

He arches hard into Guillermo’s mouth, tugging at the cuffs to either push him off or hold him there, he isn’t sure, but it doesn’t matter anyway because the stupid, fluffy, plastic pieces of shit are holding fast.

“What…?” Nandor pants, struggling.

“Oh,” Guillermo says, resting his chin against Nandor’s pec. “There’s silver underneath the feathers. The fluff is just so they don’t burn you.”

“Wh— how long have you had these?!”

“I like to be prepared!”

“Prepared for kinky vampire sex?!”

“I stole them from the orgy stuff a long time ago! You never know!”

“Did you always fantasize about— ah, ah!” He simultaneously winces and groans as Guillermo’s sanctified tongue trails across his chest to his other nipple, pausing there.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Guillermo teases, pressing a searing kiss to the raised bud.

“I am very cocky, if you would just look down and pay a bit of attention.” He breathes out, chest heaving. “Shit.”

“Oh? Pay attention? To your cock? Is that what you really want right now?” Guillermo asks innocently, dragging his burning tongue up over Nandor’s throat.

“Mmnn— no, no, don’t do that right now.”

“I think you’re missing a word there.”

Nandor struggles to think. “Um, you don’t do that right now?”

He bites Nandor’s jaw roughly. “Say please.”

“Please do not burn my dick with your blessèd tongue.”

Guillermo presses a kiss to his mouth instead, deep and genuine and aching. “Well. Since you asked nicely.” He reaches down to unbutton Nandor’s pants. “Feeling weak yet?”

“Maybe a bit?”

“Only a bit? You can’t even move.”

“No, but I can do this.” And before Guillermo has time to stabilize himself, Nandor lifts his legs and sends Guillermo tumbling into him. Nandor hasn’t even finished smirking about it before he’s pressing the point of his stake to Nandor’s chest.

“I’m keeping this here,” he says, low, serious, “so if I were you, I’d think long and hard about whether you want to try that again.”

Nandor licks his lips almost — nervously? — before he’s grinning. “Speaking of long and hard things…?”

Guillermo looks at his outline in the darkness, what little he can see, and knows that he loves this man enough to do almost anything to make him happy. So he says, “Open up.”

Nandor’s grin turns leering, and he does as he’s told, sticking his tongue out for good measure. Guillermo sets the stake in-between his teeth, broadside, both ends sticking out.

Nandor freezes.

“G’mo,” he tries to say around the intrusion, “vith ith not youw dick.”

“Nope,” Guillermo purrs. “Now, shush, you’re making it hard for me to focus.” With one swift move, he removes Nandor’s pants and underwear, leaving him blissfully naked, laid out on his bed, at his mercy.

By the way the vampiric chest is rising and falling in a way it doesn’t actually need to be, Nandor is similarly affected.

Guillermo wastes no time, biting and sucking at every available inch of skin he can find, leaving circles of teeth and raised flesh, circles of burnt skin. Nandor is bravely not making any noise, just squirming, but that’s not exactly the mark of a human, so Guillermo drags his tongue over his hip and leans back to inspect the damage.

“Well,” he says, “most of the holy water is gone.”

And then he takes Nandor into his mouth in one fell motion.

That does get a noise out of him: Nandor’s hips raise off the bed, his head thrown back, a cut-off groan escaping his lips. Guillermo blindly feels along his bedside table until he finds a rosary, then wraps it around his hand and drags it down Nandor’s thighs as he comes up for air, then goes right back down again.

Nandor is fucking mewling, making gasping little grunts and moans, legs shaking and tensing and melting all at once. He tries to wrap them around Guillermo, but that bares his inner thighs too much, allows the rosary too much skin to brand, but he can’t not do it. He can’t not wrap them around Guillermo.

He’s tugging at the handcuffs, trying not to bite clean through the stake because he’s not entirely sure what a splinter would do, and his body is moving in waves trying to get both closer and farther away from the man blurring the line between heaven and hell.

He’s squeezing too tight — he knows that, but he can’t care. Guillermo is stronger than him. Guillermo can handle it.

And he does; he pops off and drags his wet tongue up Nandor’s body, up his throat, to his mouth, and kisses him hard around the stake, one hand trailing down to continue pumping his dick.

“I’m gonna take this out now,” he whispers, voice wrecked, “and you’re going to beg me for what you want.”

Nandor nods desperately, flexing his jaw when Guillermo removes the stake from it. “Fuck me,” he begs, and that is not what Guillermo expected at all. “Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me.”

“O-okay,” Guillermo says, clumsily putting the stake to the side. “Um, d-do— should I—”

Nandor’s legs are pulling Guillermo’s hips flush against his ass. “Just do it, now, now, please,” he rambles, gasping for air he shouldn’t need.

Guillermo fumbles with his own pants again until his dick is free, and then he’s knocking things over as he tries to find lube, why is lube so hard to find god dammit, then he’s liberally applying and has full intentions of going slow, but the moment Nandor feels his cockhead pressed to his ass, he’s using the full power of his legs to bottom Guillermo out.

They both punch out a groan, Guillermo falling half over, catching himself with his elbows, forehead resting against Nandor’s chest. “T-tell me when you’re ready.”

Nandor seems to hold his breath for a moment, then he’s nodding frantically, and Guillermo takes that as his cue. He has no idea if his rhythm is right or his angle or his pacing, but regardless of all of that he’s still here fucking Nandor and everything else feels a bit secondary. Especially with the way Nandor is moaning loud enough to wake the whole house, he’s sure, using his ankles against Guillermo’s ass to make little adjustments as he goes.

Guillermo’s knees slip slightly, and he’s about to correct it, but then Nandor is arching his back off the bed, legs shaking, saying, “There, there, don’t— don’t stop, keep— fuck, f-fuck—” And with a gasping breath and a final tense of muscle, he cums hard, little sounds leaving his lips with every thrust Guillermo drags out of him. He doesn’t even clock his own orgasm until he’s watching the way Nandor’s lips look when he’s moaning, and then he’s hunched over him, biting down hard at his chest so he can keep listening to those angelic lips making those devilish sounds.

He pulls out and they both huff out a breath, and then Guillermo just flops on top of Nandor, spent.

“Guillermo,” Nandor groans out, exhausted, sated, content. “Fuck-ing— Colin Robinson.”

“Huh? Oh!” Guillermo fishes the key to the handcuffs out of the drawer and releases him. He gets the feeling Nandor would usually be flipping him over, pinning him, and having a second go, but right now he’s just tired enough to pull off the blindfold and toss it aside.

“Fuck,” Nandor whispers, and he wraps heavy arms around Guillermo.

“Good?” Guillermo pants.

“You serious? Yes. Fuck. Fuck.” He breathes out slowly. “How— I mean, you’ve been planning that, right?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve been— been fantasizing about you, then the answer is yes, and a lot, and for years, and for long enough to have an entire list of things I want to do.”

“I don’t know if I’ll survive that,” Nandor quips back, eyes slipping closed. “We sleep now. Like, right now. As in I am going to sleep in the next ten seconds.”

“Nandor, we’re gross, we need to— Nandor. Nandor.” He listens as Nandor falls completely, entirely asleep. “Ass,” he mumbles fondly, then settles down to get as comfortable as two very sticky men can get.

His hand touches the discarded stake, and he raises it to move somewhere a little less deadly.

As it passes from the far side of the bed to the dresser, some dark, primal thought of Guillermo’s brain thinks If I do this now, there will never be anyone to do to me what they tried to do to Alya and Victor.

He throws it as far as he can and scoots off Nandor, to the far wall, shaking like a leaf.

The bed is small, still so small he’s touching Nandor, touching where he’s warmed from the blood and the sex, touching where he feels human. And he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t mean to, but when he closes his eyes, he pretends it’s true.

He wakes up to Nandor curled over him, head pressed under his chin, hand resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Guillermo snaps his fingers twice and the lights come on — a very recent, very important addition to his room — and immediately goes red at the absolute nakedness of the man on him. And himself.

Nandor’s ass is— a sight, there’s no denying that. But more than that, there is trust in the way his body is draped, and that little voice from the night before is still making Guillermo feel about fifteen different flavors of guilt.

He was just tired, he tells himself. Tired and strung out and sex-addled. The slayer instincts in him using the opportunity to take over. He’d never hurt Nandor, not like that, anyway.

And that much was true. He would never, never really hurt Nandor.

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Nandor grumbles, pushing his nose harder against Guillermo’s throat.

His heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You’ve been awake for a few minutes yet just sitting there silently instead of taking this opportunity to stage a sequel to last night. So you must be thinking too loud.”

“Oh. Um, sorry.”

Nandor laughs quietly against his skin, then kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek, raising until he’s able to look into Guillermo’s eyes. “Don’t apologize,” he says, pressing their noses together briefly, creating a curtain of hair to block out the rest of the world. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” Guillermo whispers back, leaning up to kiss him fully.

It is a soft, slow kiss, as much about exploring the other’s mouth as it is about saying hello. Nandor presses his fingers to Guillermo’s chest, shifting as if to pin him down, then winces at the shhhhck of their stomachs parting. “Yeugh,” Nandor grimaces. “We are… disgusting.”

“Agreed. Shower?”

“Bath,” Nandor argues.

“No, shower first, and then bath. Get clean before we sit there and wallow in our own filth.”

“Yes, sir,” Nandor teases, a grin on his lips. He gives him one more kiss then sits up fully, stretching his arms to the ceiling, exposing his entire body.

There are marks and soft bruises littering his torso, his hips, his throat, his thighs. Guillermo can retrace the entire night from brush strokes alone. “Shit,” he whispers.

Nandor opens one eye and peers down at himself, intrigued. “Huh,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time I had a sex mark that lasted longer than an hour.”

Guillermo gives him a nervous smile. “Ever had sex with a slayer?”

“You would be the first.” He gingerly touches at a particularly rough bite mark on his chest. “I think I like them. It’s human, yes? For the marks to linger? Oh wait, I can answer that one.” And he backs up off Guillermo’s hips enough to smooth his hand over his inner thigh, at the bite there. “Yes, it is human.”

And Nandor does look remarkably human, a little less pale, a little more flushed. “Yeah, definitely is. So it’s um, it’s okay that you sort of look like a chew toy?”

Nandor’s lips quirk into a smug grin. “Yes, it is fine. And you? Chew toy?” He presses his fingertips a bit roughly at the small fang wounds on Guillermo’s hips.

“You know I absolutely have a biting kink so you’re smart enough to figure that one out yourself.”

Nandor throws his head back and laughs. “That is true; you’ve never been especially subtle about it.”

“Yeah kind of how you’ve never been subtle about your pain kink. Anyway.” He gives Nandor a sly little grin. “Shower?”

“Little rascal,” Nandor scolds lightly, then tilts his head when Guillermo starts laughing. “What?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. C’mon.”

Guillermo is busy teaching Nandor how to dust when Laszlo saunters into the room dramatically.

“We,” he begins, motioning between them all, “need to go stock up on virgins.”

Nandor glances back from where he’s trying to dust around a shelf without moving anything on it, one of Guillermo’s shirts hanging off his shoulders, barely covering his boxers. “Go do it yourself,” he scolds.

“Not all of us have the absolute privilege of a walking, talking, mobile blood bag — no offense, Gizmo.”

“Offense taken.”

“And the dungeon is lacking. Hunting every night is exhausting.”

“You love hunting,” Nandor counters.

“Yes, for fun! Not for necessity!” Laszlo huffs. “I said we should all go. I am not trying to pin this task on any one of us, but also, it needs done. So we do it together.”

Nandor opens his mouth to protest again, but Guillermo cuts him off. “Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

Nandor juts his hip out to the side and puts his fist on it, the feather duster sticking out, looking every part like a sassy, upset husband. Throw that thought out with the bathwater, Guillermo thinks.

“You do not have to bend to his whims anymore, joonam, you will be one of us soon and—”

“I say,” Laszlo interjects, “did you relearn your language?”

Nandor glances back at him, one eyebrow arched bitchily. “What makes you think it ever left me?”

Laszlo blinks. Blinks again. Looks at the marks littering Nandor’s exposed thighs and throat. “Gizmo,” he begins, not looking away, “just curious, is this relationship you have going on one where sharing is allowed or—”

“Laszlo oh my god.”

Both vampires wince and hiss, and Guillermo covers his mouth.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

“A simple no would’ve sufficed,” Laszlo grumbles, crossing his arms. “Anyway. Virgins.”

Nandor looks like he’s going to whack Laszlo with the duster. “He is not required to—”

“Whoever we find tonight is likely going to be his first meal, so don’t you think he should be involved?!” Laszlo counters, exasperated. “Considering, you know, how the whole turning him thing is happening tomorrow!”

Nandor says “I guess that’s true“ at the same time Guillermo says “Tomorrow?”

Laszlo’s eyes bounce to Guillermo. “Yes, tomorrow, otherwise known as Thursday.” He ogles the bite mark on his throat. “If you ever change your mind about sharing, by the way—”

“Not having that discussion right now,” Guillermo mumbles.

“So it will be a discussion, then?” Laszlo asks, hopeful.

“Drop it.”

“Very well.” Laszlo holds up his hands in surrender. “Since Nandor seems a bit conflicted, why don’t I just ask you, specifically, Gizmo: would you like to accompany us on our mission tonight?”

“The mission being finding virgins and bringing them back to the dungeon.”

“Right.”

Guillermo shrugs. It would be nice to finally not have to do it on his own. “Yeah, I think it sounds… is fun the right word? Am I a psychopath if I say fun?”

Nandor and Laszlo both nod.

“Ah.”

“In a good way,” Nandor assures him.

“I’ll go get Nadja and Colin Robinson,” Laszlo announces, earning himself two groans.

“Does Colin have to come with us?” Guillermo asks.

“He likes to be included,” Laszlo responds, already out the door and not stopping.

“I will make sure we are all doing equal work,” Nandor promises sincerely.

“Thank you, joonam,” Guillermo responds, and he basks in the absolute joy in Nandor’s dark eyes.

It’s a promise he doesn’t have to keep, because everyone seems to be having fun with it, anyway.

Laszlo and Nadja have already cornered some recent graduate, out celebrating a new degree. They have him in a corner booth, one on each side, kissing at his cheeks and throat, and if that man was straight when he got here, he isn’t leaving the same.

Colin Robinson has found a table of businessmen and was initially casually explaining cryptocurrency to them, but when that proved to hold their attention, he switched over to telling them about Dungeons & Dragons: Fourth Edition.

Which just leaves Nandor and Guillermo.

Nandor doesn’t seem too worried about finding someone; he’s more intent on making sure Guillermo finds someone.

“How do you usually do it?” Nandor asks sincerely, pretending to nurse a margarita.

“I usually stage club meetings at the house, or I go to a meeting and invite people back over under the guise of friendship.” Guillermo knocks back another shot of vodka. The first one had been cotton candy flavored, the second cranberry, he forgets which and how many were next, and this one is just vodka-flavored. His head is buzzing.

“You do not go out on the town to find anyone?” Nandor asks, a bit shocked.

“I’m not— super good at the whole seduction thing.”

Nandor levels him with a Look. “Guillermo.”

“Nandor.”

“Guillermo.” He pins him with a stare. “You are the single most seductive thing I have ever borne witness to.”

Guillermo lets out a nervous little giggle. “Okay but I don’t have that effect on humans, generally.”

Nandor huffs out a breath and scans the crowded bar. “Pick someone.”

“What?”

“Pick someone. I’ll show you that you are wrong.”

Guillermo shakes his head, ordering another shot. “Ugh, fine. Um, how about him?”

“Aim higher.”

“I… him?”

“Guillermo.”

Guillermo huffs and finally singles out a guy playing pool, bent over the table in a rather inviting way. “Him. There. Pool guy.”

“Okay.” Nandor leans one elbow back on the bar, his knuckle in his mouth as he focuses. “Look at us,” he whispers, and it must travel through the ether, because the guy fucks up his shot and looks up, immediately locking eyes with Guillermo. “Beckon him,” Nandor commands, and Guillermo does.

The guy says something to the other people playing pool and hands his cue off, grabbing his drink and walking over. “Um, hi,” he says, giving Guillermo a goofy smile. “Sorry, I don’t usually— I don’t usually talk to strangers, but maybe we don’t have to be strangers.” He sticks his free hand out. “I’m Jonathan.”

“Nombre Falso,” Guillermo responds cooly, shaking his hand. “Would you like to sit with us?”

“Oh, but beloved, there is nowhere for him to sit,” Nandor purrs, then without hesitation takes Jonathan by the hips and leads him directly onto Guillermo’s lap.

Guillermo’s eyes are wide and Jonathan looks a bit frozen. “I— I’m sorry about him,” Guillermo rushes out. “He likes to move fast.”

Jonathan’s hands come to rest unsurely back behind him, on Guillermo’s thighs. “Um, I’m not— I’m not opposed to fast,” he murmurs, turning his head to look back at him.

Nandor slides out of his seat and takes a step forward, effectively trapping Jonathan. “Then it would not be too forward of me to ask if you would like to come home with us?”

This close, Guillermo can hear Jonathan’s rapid intake of breath, his attempts to play it off cool. “Uh, sure, yeah, just— let me share my location with my sister.” He fumbles his phone out and Nandor takes it easily, his other hand coming to tilt his chin up.

“You won’t be needing that,” Nandor murmurs.

“I won’t be needing it,” Jonathan repeats dutifully, starstruck.

Nandor leaves the phone on the bar.

Jonathan follows them out, eyes on Guillermo. “Is it— Is it a far walk?” Jonathan asks. “I can pay for a cab, we don’t have to—”

“It’s not far,” Guillermo promises. “Very sweet of you to offer, though.”

Jonathan nods, then suddenly seems like he has to get something off his chest. “I’m a virgin,” he blurts out nervously. “I— I hope that doesn’t change anything.”

“Even better,” Guillermo promises, stopping just long enough to touch a tender hand to Jonathan’s cheek. The trusting look there has him looking away. Jesus, it’s like this man is trying to get kidnapped.

They make it to the house, which Jonathan gawks at. “Wow, this place is beautiful,” he compliments. “You guys must be rich.”

“Something like that,” Guillermo says, taking Jonathan’s coat. Nandor is mostly hovering right at the edges, letting him take the lead, and he’s both grateful and nervous. “The room is downstairs.”

“Oh, nice! Real estate with stairs is hard to find at a decent price right now, so that’s really— I’m rambling. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”

Something confusing twists itself in Guillermo’s gut. “Um, yeah, it was a really good find, I—” He clears his throat, then takes Jonathan’s hand. “Follow me?” he asks, as much sultry in his voice as possible.

Jonathan is staring at him with hooded eyes and nodding. “Lead the way.”

Guillermo leads him downstairs, noting when he starts to tense.

“Haven’t renovated down here yet, huh?” he jokes awkwardly.

“Haven’t needed to.” He flips on the light switch and Jonathan’s hand slides out of his own.

“What the fuck—”

“Please make this easy.”

Jonathan turns to run, but Nandor’s impassable form is blocking him. Nandor grins at him, all fangs and sharpness, and Jonathan screams before Nandor whispers, “Sleep,” and he’s falling down against the wall. He lands on the stairs, crumpled, and there’s something sad in Nandor’s eyes for just half a second. “Good work,” Nandor says, but it’s flat, and Guillermo nods numbly. “It will get easier when you can just hypnotize them to not… talk so much.”

“Yeah, I mean I— I’ve done this what, thousands of times before?” Guillermo is still staring at the man on the ground. He pulls out his own phone, swipes away the text from Nadja that says they’ll be home soon, and stares at his lock screen. “Um, it’s— it’s getting late. Or um, early. And I have coffee with Adriana. And I have to drive there.”

Nandor looks up at him. “Oh, is it that time already? Drive safe, delbaram.”

Guillermo gives Nandor a quick kiss and leaves him to deal with the mess, grabbing his car keys from his room and hightailing it to his car. He pulls out of the drive, down the street, onto a side road. He parks in an empty lot, unbuckles, walks about five feet, and throws absolutely everything up.

He’s shaking. Remorse. Regret. Pity. It had been ages since he had felt any of them, but something about the— the blind trust, something about not doing it for someone else but for himself, it… it wriggles inside him like a million tiny worms.

He grabs an old water bottle from the floorboards and rinses his mouth, then crawls into the back of his car and waits for his vision to stop swimming quite so much.

He's nursing a hangover by the time he pulls into the agreed-upon parking lot. It's a small coffee shop, the kind that gives you your coffee in real mugs and has really stupidly-named concoctions.

He loves it before he steps in.

He orders the I Dream Of Beanie and a rainbow muffin, because he's gay and he's legally required to. They're still making his order when Adriana walks into the shop. The bells they have tied to the door jingle pleasantly as it opens and closes. He gives her a little wave and her face lights up. She bounds over to him and hugs him tightly, then drops her keys on the table and says she'll be right back.

She orders her coffee, also gets the gay muffin, and returns to their table. It's still early. A few other people are there, but there aren't many total.

“Morning,” she says, grinning at him.

He laughs. “Yeah, morning.”

“You reek.”

“Thanks.”

Adriana shuffles through her purse until she finds some perfume, and then is unceremoniously drenching him in it. “Like a bad bar.”

“Would probably be because I just came from a bad bar.”

“Gross,” she quips playfully. “Why?”

“Long story. Um, first off, how are you? Things got hectic.”

“Yeah, they did.” She takes a bite of her muffin and looks around. “Um, so, I moved out of Mom and Dad's, finally. Moved in with Iris. And we— we took Tyler with us.”

“Yeah? They're not going to fight you on that?”

“With what grounds? They're legally dead. As far as the state is concerned, I've had him all this time, anyway.” She hears the barista call out Memo, and gives him a little smirk. “That's you.”

“Yeah, hold on.” He quickly gets his coffee and sits back down. “So you two—”

“Adriana,” the barista calls out again, and they laugh as she gets her coffee as well.

“Okay,” Guillermo tries again, “so you and Iris are raising Tyler now?”

Adriana shrugs. “He's almost an adult anyway. He's really just using us as a home base until college. It's… nice. For all of us.”

“It sounds nice,” Guillermo agrees softly.

“What about you? Word on the street is you left right after us.”

“Yeah, I did. Me and Nandor. We went back home.” He fiddles with the wrapper on the muffin.

“Yeah?” she presses. “How's that going?”

“He's amazing,” Guillermo says sincerely. “He's thoughtful and kind and courteous. We went on a walk the other night and it was— I mean, everything I could ever want. We talked for hours.”

She's still smiling, but there is a furrow between her brows. “I know a but when I hear one.”

He pulls a few rainbow sprinkles off. “He… He offered to turn me.”

“And how do we feel about that?”

“I mean, it's what I've wanted. It's what I've been working for for over a decade now.”

“Uh- huh,” she says, then taps his wrist. “Memo. How do we feel about that?”

“I don't know,” he admits, barely a breath, like somehow they'd hear him all the way in Staten Island. “I love him.”

“That doesn't really have anything to do with it, though, does it?” She sips at her coffee, then winces at the heat. “It's your life. It doesn't matter if you love him. This decision is yours.”

“I want eternity with him,” he whispers pathetically.

“Really? Because I watched you try to feed him, Memo. And I watched you bring him into the morning. I think you want him until you die, and you're conflating that with eternity.”

Guillermo takes a shuddery breath. “But that can't happen. He's a vampire. I want to be a vampire. Or at least, I— I did.”

Adriana leans forward, taps her pretty nails on the table. “When I still wanted to be one,” she begins, “I thought it would solve all these problems for me. It took me years to realize I didn't want to be a vampire. I wanted the problems to go away. So, Guillermo: what problems are you trying to solve?”

His coffee sits, steaming, on the table. He watches it rise and curl. “I think I wanted control of my life. And to make the family proud of me. But I don't care about them anymore. And I— I proved to myself I am in control.”

“Then why do you want to be a vampire?”

Guillermo looks up at her, meets her eyes, and cannot say it.

She nods, like he did. “You are your mother's son, Memo,” she tells him plainly, trying to sip her drink again. It must be less hot this time, because she nods and takes another drink. “You can stay on our couch.”

“What?”

“To avoid the whole thing. Until you're sure. We have a futon.”

“I'm not— I can't run from this.”

“Okay. But if you do, or need a space to breathe after not running, our doors are always open.” She gives him a gentle smile. “Iris loves you. She says you sent for me without hesitation. She'd be glad to see you again. And Tyler obviously loves you, so.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it. “I don't think I'll need to, but the offer means a lot.”

“Anytime.”

He finally drinks his coffee, takes a bite of the muffin. “Do you know what happened? After we left?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Been talking to Alya, and Mom wouldn't stop bitching about it when we went to get our stuff. Alya and Victor obviously aren't going to become vampires. They're looking for a house in the country somewhere to raise Cyrus and probably have a few more kids. She said they found a dog.”

He's smiling. His heart feels warm.

“As for the whole everyone leaving thing, apparently it involved a lot of anger and arguing, a lot of taking down decorations and burning them, and agreements that none of us will ever be allowed back into the family again. So.” She raises her mug in a mock toast. “Here's to our new family, the brave ones.”

Guillermo taps his own mug against hers. “Maybe we can all get together for Christmas. We never did Christmas.”

“Oh man that would be awesome. We could do a dirty santa or something!”

They set about talking and planning, and though it takes a few more cups of coffee, there is nowhere else Guillermo would rather be.

He makes it back home a little bit before sunset.

Colin Robinson has fucked off somewhere in the house, and he's glad, because his hands are shaking as he takes a Gatorade and a bag of chips from the cabinet and heads downstairs.

He flicks the lights on and sees Jonathan there, huddled in a corner. He winces at the brightness, then seems to see Guillermo.

“Nombre,” he pleads, and it takes Guillermo a second to realize that was his fake name. “Listen, please listen, I—”

“I brought you food,” he says as gently as he can.

Jonathan looks at his hands, then at him. “I know you're going to kill me.”

He doesn't say anything.

“I know I can't change that. But I— I think I should get a favor, a last easy thing for a dead man. Right? Please?” His eyes are entreating. He's on his knees.

“What is it?” Guillermo feels himself ask.

“My sister is going to miss me. Can you— Can you make it look like I ran away? And— And I need you to leave her something.”

“That's two favors,” Guillermo responds carefully.

“The second one is even easier,” Jonathan begs. “We— Our mom immigrated here, and she had this recipe for rice she brought from her homeland, and she never wrote it down and she died before she could teach Melina— my sister, Melina my sister. But she taught me. But I never wrote it down. And I— I want you to let me write it down. For Melina. Please.” He sees nothing in Guillermo's face, and he raises his voice. “Please. Please! It's all she has left of our mom! It's not fair to take me and her from her! It's just a recipe! Please!”

Guillermo unlocks the cage.

They both stare, shocked, at what he just did.

Jonathan doesn't even attempt to leave. “I just need paper and a pencil,” he whispers.

“G-Get one from the store,” Guillermo stutters.

“What?”

“Leave. Go. Go. Don't say a— Don't say a word about this or else— or else you won't get lucky next time.” His hands are shaking. They're more than shaking. They're rattling against the cage.

Jonathan does not waste time. He stumbles out of the cage, looks around for an exit.

Guillermo opens the door for him.

He watches him run off into the sunset, and that was a bad, dumb idea that he didn't think through, but it was also the only choice he could make.

Fuck. There is only one choice to make.

He can’t go back upstairs. He sits on the grimy steps, in the room with the empty cages, and waits for someone to find him.

It’s Nadja who does.

“Guillermo,” she says, letting the door swing closed behind her. “What are you doing down here? You have an event to get ready for. Up, up.”

He’s shaking his head. He can’t move.

“…Oh. Oh, dear. You are having the frigid feet. I will go get help.” She leaves, and it’s like Guillermo can already hear the music he has to face. Softly, piano, a violin, maybe, something somber, something broken.

Laszlo enters the room next. “Gizmo,” he says, “my darling wife tells me you’re nervous. Don’t fret; I too was nervous when facing down eternal life. It is worth it, in the end. You won’t even notice a difference.”

The cellos are joining in now. A bass drum is beating in tempo with his heart.

“In fact, I don’t even remember what the sunlight looks like, so truly there is nothing to miss!”

The loudness of the marimba is what’s making him shake. It has to be. The cage he’s staring at is getting blurry with the song.

“Shit,” Laszlo murmurs, then he’s out of the room as Nadja crouches down to try to peer at Guillermo.

“It really isn’t that painful,” she whispers encouragingly. “Not the bite, that hurts a lot. I mean dying. It’s like falling asleep.”

There’s the tuba. There’s the french horn. There’s the flute, trilling high, like a bird on the wind, like a scream.

“Guillermo,” comes the voice he’s been waiting for, the singer to the song. “What happened?” A pause, a breath mark, and then it begins again, louder. “Where is Jonathan? Did he escape?”

Guillermo shakes his head no, and the cymbal reverberates in his ears.

“…Did you let him go?”

A nod. A gong.

“Oh, Guillermo,” Nandor whispers. “I thought it had upset you.”

Laszlo speaks over the noise, somehow, like he can’t hear it, like none of them can hear it. “What had upset him?”

“The man talked too much. It was not… a pleasant thing to watch him crumble.” Nothing is in time. It’s not a symphony, it’s just sound. Different beats, different measures, different dynamics. Building. Building.

“Oh, Gizmo,” Laszlo says, understanding in his voice, and the piccolo is screeching, the trombones are sliding, the bass drum is knocking things to the ground, “I know it’s hard at first, but if you want to be a vampire—”

“I don’t want to be a vampire!”

The conductor ends the cacophony with a wave of his baton. Silence. Now there is just the audience, staring at him in horror.

“What?” Nadja finally says, like she didn’t hear him.

It’s out there. It’s out. There’s no going back now, now that he’s shaking and numb. “I don’t want to be a vampire,” he repeats, only it’s not steady, like he wants it to be. It’s thick. It’s watery. He’s crying. “I don’t— I don’t— fuck I don’t want to— I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry, I—”

He makes the mistake of looking to Nandor.

He is stricken. There’s no other way to put it. He’d look less hurt if Guillermo really had slapped him across the face. He’s never seen him this open before, this vulnerable, and now, of all times, is when he can plainly see betrayal in his eyes.

“I—” Guillermo tries to begin, but it catches in his throat the same way Nandor’s foot catches as he takes a step back.

Guillermo puts a shivering hand over his own mouth, like he’d just cursed the both of them. He doesn’t want any more words to come out, not when they’re tearing Nandor’s heart asunder like this. He feels hot tears snaking their way on the outline of his hands, and he wishes, he wishes he didn’t see one of the same streak red down Nandor’s face.

Then he’s turning and whisking out of the room.

“Wow,” Colin Robinson says, and no one is entirely sure when he got there. “That was rough.”

Laszlo looks down at Guillermo with— Jesus Christ, with sadness in his eyes. “I… thought you wanted to be with us,” he says, and it is the quietest Laszlo has ever spoken.

“I do,” Guillermo promises around his hand. “I’d never leave you.”

“You’re human,” Nadja says sadly, patting at his shoulder. “It’s only a matter of time.”

And with that, they leave the room, and Guillermo is alone on the dingy steps, in the grimy dungeon, with his heart kicked to the goddamn curb.

Nandor is nowhere to be found.

Not that Guillermo is super looking for him — he wants to give him his time — but there’s not a trace of him.

He dusts half-heartedly. He vacuums half-heartedly. He does everything half-heartedly, because half of his heart up and left.

“Do you know where he went?” he asks Nadja and Laszlo, both of whom shake their heads. Nandor’s just gone.

He finishes his chores early, and they ask him to play a game of Twister with them, which is just about the last thing he wants to do, but he says yes. Because it was the hardest decision he’s ever had to make, and he has to be sure they didn’t leave him, too.

They go to bed, Guillermo watches the sunrise he was never meant to see, and Nandor is still not home.

He’s waiting in the den with Colin, jiggling his leg. “You don’t think he did something dumb, do you?” he asks.

“You’re asking me if I think Nandor, who has about two braincells, did something dumb.”

“I mean, do you think he’s… alive?”

“Yeah. Survived seven hundred years without you, didn’t he?” He checks his watch again. “Almost time for me to make the biggest possible traffic jam. I’m going for a new record of three hours.”

“Do you think he’s coming back?” he whispers as Colin stands up and grabs his suitcase.

“Dude’s head over heels for you. He’ll be back.” With an uncharacteristic pat on the arm, Colin takes his leave.

Guillermo rearranges the books in the library.

He makes the dungeon less grimy.

He moves some furniture around.

He kills time every way he knows how to, and still the hours tick by slowly. It’s lonely. It’s so unbearably lonely without Nandor.

He hasn’t slept in far too long, and his eyes still sting from crying, and his head still hurts from drinking and crying, so he does the only thing he can really think of to do.

He climbs into Nandor’s coffin and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he’s woken up by the smell of baking bread.

He walks groggily downstairs, eyes still puffy, to the kitchen, to see — oh, thank fuck — Nandor.

“Mi corazón,” Guillermo breathes, and then he’s running up to him and hugging him tight. Nandor jumps, not having heard him come in, and then he’s turning around and hugging back.

“Hello there,” Nandor whispers.

Guillermo pulls back and smacks him in the arm.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“For leaving without saying a word! I thought you were dead somewhere!”

Nandor’s lips quirk into a small smile, and Guillermo rolls his eyes, secretly relieved.

“You know what I meant.”

Nandor kisses his nose. “Not dead,” he confirms. “And I did not intend to stay gone as long as I did.”

“I thought you hated me.”

Nandor holds his face in his hands, concerned. “Joonam, I could never hate you.”

He sniffles a bit. “Even though I’m not a vampire?”

“That… caught me off-guard, I admit. I should have seen it coming, though. But, to answer your question, yes. I still love you.”

Guillermo breathes out every bit of anxiety that had clung to him. “Okay.”

Nandor kisses his forehead reverently, then nods to himself. “But we do need to talk.” He takes a seat at the small, wooden table, then motions to the chair opposite him. “Sit. If you want to, that is.”

Guillermo sits down hesitantly, suddenly unsure. There is something about Nandor, some aura he can't place. “Everything okay?”

“Interesting question. Yes, I think so. Bread?” Nandor holds out a basket with a loaf in it. It is not as pretty as his mom's, but the smell is identical.

“Did you make this?”

“I did, yes.” Nandor gives him a shy smile. “I also made a decision without consulting you.”

Guillermo freezes in where he is tearing the bread into smaller chunks. “You are allowed to do that,” he says, measured.

“I want you to know you were not involved in my internal debate. That you making your decision so fiercely and confidently, even in the face of those you love, enabled me to do the same. To know it was possible. To know I could face change alone and still prevail.”

Guillermo takes a bite of bread suspiciously, then another even more suspiciously. “Did you talk to my mom?” he jokes. “This tastes identical to hers.”

“I did, yes. That is where I have been.”

“I— oh. Okay. Um.” He looks at the bread, at the man before him, at the kitchen. “You're not— Okay if you're proposing you have to tell me now.”

Nandor laughs, one hand covering his mouth as if he's trying not to. “I'm not proposing. Not right now, anyway.”

“Then what did you do?” Guillermo questions.

Nandor's eyes soften. “It's what I undid, actually.” He looks back at the blackout curtains over the windows. “Your mother said heaven was sharing food with a loved one in the sun. I want to see if she is right.”

And before Guillermo can stop him, he reaches out and opens the curtains.

He does not do it with any bravado, any speed. It's a simple gesture, the sort he's seen in hazy memories of his father half-forgotten, and Guillermo has the vague realization that he didn’t know it was still morning.

“NANDOR!” The name is ripped from his very soul as he lunges for the curtains, knocking the table over, bread and all.

An arm slinks around his waist before he gets there, and he's pulled around to stand face to face(ish) with the ancient Ottoman warlord whose free hand holds the toppled bread.

“Hello,” Nandor whispers, and the sunlight glimmers in his eyes.

Guillermo can't feel his legs. “How—”

Nandor's breath is shaky, and when he smiles, his teeth are as dull as Guillermo's. “You look so beautiful in the sunlight,” he breathes, eyes bouncing from feature to feature. “I thought you might. My god, you are radiant.”

Guillermo rests one hand to his chest, and yes, there it is. A heartbeat. “What? How did—?”

“Your mother is full of knowledge,” he whispers. “She told me of it, when I spoke to her of you, of your decision. I—” he pauses. “I could think of no one else who would understand better. She told me that there was a secret to her and your father, that there was more to why she was so very hated.” He presses a kiss to Guillermo’s cheek. “Your father was a vampire when they met.”

The kitchen spins. “What?”

“He was recently-married, to a woman he didn’t love, and who didn’t love him. He met your mother and left his wife for Silvia. And the rest of what she has told you was true. They did decide to have a family, only he was undead, and she was not, and did not wish to be. He no longer wished it, either.”

Nandor pulls Guillermo into something like a waltz, and he realizes all at once that the radio has been playing Selena this entire time.

“They scoured the earth for a cure, and they found it, but it was permanent. There was no changing his mind, once he was human.”

Nandor dips Guillermo, and Guillermo holds on for his life.

“He never regretted a moment of it.” He pulls him back up, kissing him squarely on the mouth. “She said she would share it with me, but that this decision could not involve you. I told her of Jan, of the— the wish I have always had to be human once more. That it was not for you, but that it was because of you. You gave me strength.”

“Nandor,” Guillermo breathes, captivated.

“She told me I did not have to envy her life, that I could have one of my own. She told me heaven is this. Right here. With you.” He holds out a loaf, kneaded and created by loving hands. “Take this bread, eat it with me. Perhaps God did not have it all wrong.”

“Nandor,” Guillermo breathes again, because it is all he can do, and he kisses him deeply, because it is all he knows how to do. There is no worry of fangs, no coolness to the touch, just warm lips and warm tongue and warm hands, solid and firm and human.

“I did not do this for you,” Nandor reiterates against parted lips. “But for as long as you will have me, I am yours.”

“Until we die,” Guillermo promises, surging into another kiss, passionate and fulfilling and free.

“Then nothing about us has changed,” Nandor whispers, then loses himself to the heaven of fresh bread, morning sun, coffee percolating and, above all, a new meaning of forever solidified in his arms.

Guillermo reaches out and grabs a piece of bread and feeds it to him like a communion, and it is absolutely delicious. They’re laughing softly as Nandor eats way too much bread, drinks way too much coffee, and smiles with the perfect amount of love.

“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” Guillermo asks, holding out his hand, and when Nandor takes it, the world opens up.

“I think I’d love to.”