Southern Comfort

[Existentially Odd]

(Continued from \'Southern Congeniality\')

The ride to Gene\'s place was highly amusing for Sam.  He\'d been told that he must find 786 Acrilo Street and been given vague directions to the place, but the entire route was punctuated by Gene second-guessing the turns they made, craning his neck to (fruitlessly) see where they\'d been and usually deciding they were going in the right direction anyway, before he moaned about being dizzy and wishing things would stop spinnin\'.

At any point, Samuel could\'ve just put the address into his iPhone and had Google Maps show him the way, but he wasn\'t averse to doing it this way.  Gene was highly aware of just how drunk he was by this stage and when he occasionally believed Sam was safely travelling down the right road, he fell to lamenting his state and pondering how Orias was faring instead of turning them up blind alleys or into random cul de sacs.  Samuel used the vampire\'s name first in conversation, but it didn\'t occur to Gene to question that, for he hadn\'t realised just how much information the vampire had gleaned from his thoughts.  He was too drunk to think straight anyway.

Samuel wasn\'t sure how to take Gene\'s worry over Orias\' reaction.  On the one hand, it seemed perfectly reasonable to imagine a vampire objecting to his lover being brought home - thoroughly intoxicated - by another, strange vampire, hours after he\'d been expecting him and being upset.  Very upset.  Especially when the smell of him was pretty much everywhere on the pretty mortal in question.

On the other hand, Samuel had an instinct about things, about people, that he couldn\'t shake, and he pondered the nature of the relationship when Gene groaned that Orias was gonna\' be soooo worried about him.  Just that.  It wasn\'t an extravagant statement, nothing overtly hinting at anything even untoward, there was just... a feeling he got from the way Gene spoke that made him wonder.

Of course, he also reasonably had to admit that any such doubts he had about Gene\'s relationship were likely selfish and deviously motivated.  The more he\'d got to know the guy, the more interested he\'d got.  Not smart, but he couldn\'t help it.

When they finally got to the right address, Samuel eased the truck (as quietly as he was able) into the driveway beside the blue one already in residence, afraid of getting too close to it, afraid of driving on the grass (some people were really picky about that sort of thing) and hoping to Hell Gene was careful when he got out.  That\'s when the fun really began in earnest.

Samuel was at Gene\'s door and had it open while he was still fumbling for the handle inside, and more or less picked him up and hefted him out of the vehicle, supporting him again as he walked him to the lawn.  More laughter and some jostling ensued (as Gene imagined Sam was coming onto him again) and the vampire was acutely aware of just how close they were to the house, glancing at it even as he, "Shh!"ed Gene.

Samuel then declared he\'d do the right thing and walk Gene to the door before he walked home to the Chambers.
Gene told him he shouldn\'t.
Sam insisted it was the southern way.
Gene responded in a less polite manner than anyone gave southerners credit for being able to pull off.
Sam stifled a snort of laughter and bit back his amusement as he hissed back that he would be a gentleman.
Gene assured him it wasn\'t necessary, that he could use his keys to get in and thank you all the same.

Then came the leap-crabbing across the lawn as Samuel simply headed for the door and Gene hauled him back.  He allowed himself to be grasped by the arms (though the cast was awkward at best) and pressed his face close to Gene\'s, speaking earnestly to him, his own hands on the mortal\'s hips.  "Look," he whispered, "I\'m not tryin\' to make trouble for you, it just doesn\'t sit right that I pull into your driveway and then walk away - I ain\'t built like that!  I won\'t stay, let me just see you in the door and I\'ll go!" he begged.

Unfortunately, the decision was made for them as, just then, light from the front porch spilled across the lawn and highlighted the two of them, clinging together like five year olds scared of a spider and insisting the other one go kill it.  They turned their heads in tandem and Samuel suddenly got his first look at the boyfriend gifted to Gene by the Gods.  In the flesh anyway, as he\'d already seen him through Gene\'s mind\'s eye.  That hadn\'t quite done him justice, though, and Samuel was momentarily struck dumb.

[realworldweirdo]

Orias heard Gene\'s truck pull up in the driveway over the modernized neo-metal version of Beethoven\'s 9th that he\'d been playing through the entertainment system\'s speakers, but didn\'t turn it down. Aggressive orchestral music poured out and filled the living room, enhanced by synths and electric guitars, at a moderately loud volume, over which he managed to hear voices.

Voices. Plural. Gene had someone with him, a man by the sounds of it. He made himself not assume the worst; Gene was a sociable guy and if he was out this late, odds were he\'d been drinking. Someone may have given him a ride home. He should be grateful, not upset, that someone was with him. Gene had a bad habit of driving a bit more drunk than he really should, and the last thing Orias wanted was Gene post-accident. That had been simulated closely enough by the still-too-recent attack. His lacerated pride motivated him to get up off the couch to meet Gene at the door and lend him a hand if necessary.

What he heard at the door was a bit less encouraging than he\'d led himself to believe. He flicked on the porch light and opened the door, striding out onto the small brick porch to investigate the situation. The vampire didn\'t bother buttoning his sky blue knit henley shirt, preferring the freedom of motion the open neck gave him. If his neighbors didn\'t think he was eccentric yet, there was no reason that the combination of that shirt and the loose black basketball shorts he was wearing without shoes would damage their opinions of him.

That\'s a goddamn vampire, he realized with a start, snarling to himself in his head. Unbidden, vivid mental images of the attack by the shit head fledgling surfaced, colored in red and gray. They stayed there, floating, mixing with the realization that Gene was drunk and standing with a quite attractive vampire.

A very handsome vampire. Standing very close to him, in fact. He resisted the urge to dart over to the stranger and throw him across the street into the trash cans waiting to be emptied in a few hours. There was little doubt he was able to, assuming he could get a grip on the intruder.

"You were out late," he managed to comment, hoping he didn\'t sound too critical. Or like I want to squeeze this fucker\'s head like a grape.

[Saccharin]

Like a mole that\'d just popped its head out from underground for the first time, Gene squinted at Orias, only able to make out his outline until his eyes adjusted to the new source of light.

"Not that late, is it?" His eyebrows lowered in his confusion. It\'d only been a couple hours since he\'d started drinking, hadn\'t it? With the exaggerated slowness of someone who had to think of every action before it took place, he wiggled his fingers into his pocket and pulled from it his cell phone. It wasn\'t anything fancy, just something he could make phone calls on and check the time with. By what it was saying, he\'d misplaced an extra hour or two somewhere along the way.

As Sam was aware, he\'d been concerned that Orias would\'ve been worried about him, and that\'d been before he truly understood how much time he\'d spent out and about... Now he was entirely positive he had some apologizing to do.

"Oh," he said, crestfallen. "I\'m sorry, I didn\'t realize. I should\'ve called." He tried pushing the phone back into his pocket, but it skirted over the top instead and when he released the device it fell into the grass. "S fine, I got it," he declared, holding his arm out to prevent Sam for diving for it first. He didn\'t have it, though. When he leaned down to pick it up, he felt all his blood rushing to his head and had to sit down before he fell over in a graceless heap.

Eh, this is easier anyway.

He patted the carefully manicured lawn around his crossed legs until he encountered his phone and then tossed it in his lap. "This is Sam, by the way. He drove my truck," he said, looking the long way up to Sam\'s face, his hand splayed out to his side so he didn\'t topple over. "He said I couldn\'t get to the door on my own." Gene snorted, making it clear his opinion on the matter - despite how he very obviously wasn\'t at the front door, being on the ground and all.

[Existentially Odd]

For his part, Sam was pretty close to being unable to answer.  He was rooted to the spot, watching Gene fall out of his grasp with numb horror, not even having the wherewithal to grab a hold of him because his instincts were so vividly at war with one another.  He wanted to help the mortal up, to laugh his ineptness off with him, to respond casually to his misunderstanding that Sam simply wished to be a gentleman, to continue their easy camaraderie and inane laughing.

He could do none of it.  About all he was capable of doing was standing there staring at the imposing vampire looming over them from the porch, his hands still frozen in place from where they\'d been hanging onto Gene\'s hips, one of them dangling keys.  He looked somewhat like a competitive skier about to thrust himself out of a chute, hips first, but didn\'t realise how stupidly he was posed, in his numbness.

Mostly, it was guilt.  He\'d been doing a fair bit of touching that he knew he shouldn\'t have been - not to mention outright propositioning Gene at the pool hall - and that had been daring and fine when it was just the two of them and Gene had proved he could keep a lid on it all by refusing loyally.  It had made Sam feel even more daring, knowing his flirting would come to nothing and trying that little bit harder each time.

There could be no letting that out, though.  His mind was walled stronger than a safe currently, uncertain about what sort of skill he was facing coming from the other vampire - Hell, the wind wasn\'t even travelling right so he could tell if Orias was older or not.  It didn\'t matter, though, not really.  What mattered was that he\'d been out with the guy\'s boyfriend, getting as spiritually close to him as he had physically, and there was intense fear in him that Orias would read that, and condemn him for his interference, stopping him from ever seeing Gene again.  Shit, they hadn\'t even exchanged phone numbers.

"H-hi," he croaked weakly, further embarrassed that he hadn\'t even managed to get one syllable out without stuttering.  He was far too stressed to attempt speaking right now.  He needed to get out of there.  Sam turned to look down at Gene, willing him to get up by himself, wishing to God he had the guts to lean down and help him up, believing it was Orias\' place to come and do that, though - and afraid of getting any closer to the other vampire, too, but believing it was imminent.

The only thing he could successfully do was pull his hands back and straighten out of his comical pose, still staring down at Gene.  The keys jingled quietly as he did, seeming to be the only noise anywhere in the vicinity.

[realworldweirdo]

Orias made himself take another moment to absorb the whole scene. He was nearly five centuries old; he refused to act like a middle school child throwing a fit because his boyfriend held hands with someone else. The neo-Beethoven coming from the house certainly made his thoughts of squashing Sam like a bug tempting, though.

What was wrong with him? The situation, at least part of it, was obvious. After only a moment\'s hesitation, he walked over to Gene and scooped him up with ease. He remembered to make it at least resemble Gene standing up with some of his own strength, although his lover\'s somewhat limp feet (which jerked about a bit looking for something solid) hovered almost an inch above the ground.

"Let\'s get you to the sofa," he suggested, more calmly this time. He hadn\'t realized he\'d been grating his teeth when he spoke before. "Sam, I\'m Orias. Thank you for bringing Gene home safely. Won\'t you come in for a moment?"

There was an odd emphasis on the word safely, as though the veracity of the statement were still under investigation. Which was probably because it was; Orias intended to learn what he could about this Sam character. The immediacy with which he turned to go back to the still-open front door implied the request was a polite way of telling Sam to come inside. He had gotten control of himself, but there was still a lot he wanted to know about this situation before he would have any peace of mind.

[Saccharin]

"I can walk," he protested, but like most the times Orias hauled him around like an overgrown baby, he wasn\'t allowed down again - not until he was deposited on the couch, anyway. He seemed to recover quickly from the indignity of not having entered the house of his own accord, though, and was working at removing his boots when he turned his head to follow the movement at the door.

[Existentially Odd]

Sam stood there debating, watching them go, knowing he was supposed to follow and really not wanting to.  But when he looked down, he saw that he was still holding Gene\'s keys and realised he was obligated to go in.  Had Orias deliberately not taken them off him when he was picking his boyfriend up like a spoiled child having a tantrum on the floor?

Deciding he would likely never know, Samuel trudged after the couple and into the house, sidling awkwardly in through the doorway and stepping to the side, like he was expecting something huge to come barrelling in after him.  The hand holding the keys was lifted before him, one finger through the ring and the body of the little metal beasts resting on his palm - an offering, for anyone who wished to claim it.

His gaze was flicking between Orias and Gene, reassured by the normalcy of someone taking off his boots in his home, unnerved by having another vampire - who was definitely much older than him, he now knew - hovering over him.  Was he hovering?  To Sam he was; it made him feel awkward, watching Orias expressing his concern for his lover in such a paternal way, but he wasn\'t quite sure why that bothered him so much.

Maybe it was because he\'d spent the last three hours getting to know the sweet, damaged, resilient mortal and it seemed he deserved more respect than that.  He\'d got away from his home, from the oppression of his family life, from the clinging south and he\'d picked Orias to spend his time with.  How much luckier could the vampire get?  It didn\'t seem right that he was just pushing his lover around, like he was incapable of doing anything right.

Was Gene getting some sort of father-figure catharsis in this relationship?  He certainly seemed to take being picked up and put down in his stride... so maybe.  Samuel could understand how that worked and wouldn\'t be surprised if that was what was happening; lots of relationships he\'d been in or observed had been the same.

Shaking his head a little to force himself to stop sliding into his usual habit of psychoanalysing the relationships he saw played out before him, Sam\'s gaze now held steadily on Orias, watching to see if he\'d head in his direction - maybe to take the keys or speak to him or even close the door that Samuel didn\'t feel it was his place to touch (and he\'d slunk to the opposite side of it, back up against the wall, so that he wouldn\'t block the owner from closing his door if he wanted to) - or not. Either way, he knew he didn\'t have much time but he needed to get himself centred, so that he could get out some sort of reply.  He just had to lock away the fear as securely as he\'d locked away his stupid, flirty thoughts, and then he\'d be fine.

Well, he\'d be able to speak, anyway, and that was all he wanted right now.

[realworldweirdo]

Orias helped Gene with his boots insofar as he was permitted; Gene seemed less than thoroughly pleased with him at the time being. Still, he dusted off the couch and put Gene\'s boots by the door with the other shoes. It would be evident to supernatural eyes that shoes were frequently worn inside the house, so there was no need for a visitor to go barefoot.

Standing up and walking over to Sam, Orias stretched out his hand with a somewhat mannequinesque smile.

"I\'m glad you brought him home safely," he said in a tone audible to human ears. Then, in a much softer tone that Gene would be unable to hear, he added "Would you please help him sleep so we may talk privately in my studio?"

Not that Sam knew this, but Orias\' studio was a place of sanctity and quietude, relatively speaking. Power tools and sharp objects, abrasive surfaces and staining liquids ruled the day in the garage with its boarded up windows and stockpiles of materials. His invitation to not only invade Gene\'s mind, but to enter his chamber of artistry, was a grave sign indeed. Even the great heartbeat of his life had only managed to fit a single Johnny Cash poster into the room, on the back of the door into the living room.

[Existentially Odd]

Samuel\'s lips pressed together instinctively as Orias approached him - he was prepared for that, though... the near-silent request however, he was not.  In surprise, his gaze flickered past the other vampire to the ignorant mortal on the couch, his mind whirring.

Was this some kind of test?  Why didn\'t Orias do it himself, if he wanted to speak in private?  Was he unable to or just wanting to test Samuel\'s level of mental skill?  Sam was neither gifted nor inept, he\'d studied (naturally) and trained himself to use his vampire skills to the best of his two hundred year old ability, and he\'d certainly be able to plant a suggestion in an already alcohol-fugued brain that it desired sleep... but did he want to?

Frankly, he didn\'t, but he wasn\'t able to say that out loud.  He wasn\'t sure he could say anything out loud just yet, but it seemed he was going to have to try.

Swallowing, he thrust the hand holding the keys forward and chose to speak into Orias\' mind instead, looking him in the eye.  It was gravely disrespectful - he\'d never normally have been so rude as to simply speak into an older vampire\'s mind - but the circumstances were dire.  He didn\'t know if he had the fortitude to use his actual, betraying mouth, though, and since the conversation had been opened about the skill, he thought it somewhat excused his insubordinance.

We don\'t have to go anywhere to speak in private, he insisted, somewhat distracted by the feel of Orias\' mind - it was like... like a three dimensional child\'s touchy-feely playground.  Please take his keys.

[realworldweirdo]

Focusing as hard as he could, nearly crossing his eyes in the process, Orias thought as loudly as he could to try to make himself heard. He knew he had no broadcasting ability, so to speak, and he was psychically deaf and blind.

I hate this. I fucking hate this more than I can express, however I must admit that I cannot use telepathy. Please speak with me privately.

It was a long shot, but the only shot he had at actually evaluating this new vampire that threatened (in his mind) the man who brought warmth and life to his existence.

[Existentially Odd]

Oh.  Samuel gulped, realising he was being given no real choice in the matter.  Again, he glanced over at Gene, feeling guilty now because he saw no way of getting out of this besides complying, yet he didn\'t want to betray the one person he cared about in this situation.  How could he, not, though?

His shoulders drooping, he reached out with his mind and touched Gene\'s, an automatic smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he was absorbed in the warmth of it.  Still, he had to resist the pull of it and do as he was asked by this stranger - whom, by the definition of age, he accepted as his superior - hard as it was.  It didn\'t take him long to accomplish the task and Gene\'s lovely hazel eyes were drooping.

Samuel looked back at Orias and swallowed again, steeling himself.  "D-done," he murmured, waiting to be led to wherever it was that Orias wanted him to go to have this \'private talk\'.  At this stage, he was planning to just drop Gene\'s damn keys on the couch near his feet as he walked by.

[realworldweirdo]

Orias watched Gene\'s eyes drift shut, peacefully taking on the stupor of one in either the half-awake state of drunkenness or the open-eyed stupor of being unconscious from spirits.

"May we speak in my studio? I\'d like to understand the situation better, Sam," he invited with greatly forced formality, drifting with obviously basic vampiric "grace" towards the studio door and opening it for him in old fashioned courtesy.

[Existentially Odd]

Reluctantly (again), Sam followed.  Gingerly, as he walked past Gene, he bent down lightly and smoothly tucked the mortal\'s truck keys into his jeans pocket before he moved on.

Once he entered the studio, he looked around, trying to decide where the best place to sit or stand was and giving up.  To him, the place was cluttered and disorganised, yet he could tell everything in there was precious and so he knew he couldn\'t disrespect anything.  Standing in the middle of the empty space, in roughly the middle of the room, was the best he could do, since the other vampire had forced him to precede him.

Turning to face Orias as he entered, Sam had nothing to say to the vampire, waiting for him to speak first, his hands clasped together before him.

[realworldweirdo]

"You have mental abilities," Orias started, short and somewhat lacking in sweet. He was still close to neutral, but it was far from friendly. He called on a bluff to work for him; he guessed that no vampire older than a few decades would be thus intimidated before him.

The studio was mostly arranged as was normal for the space. Materials and work tools were scattered in an array of organized chaos, dust coating everything, In the center of the floor was a misshapen blob  of brass metal, nearly a meter taller than a human with giant grotesque forms projecting from the back side.

"You have an idea of how much age I\'ve gained on you. Have you done anything to influence Gene?"

In all his time as an immortal, very few of Orias\'s abiltiies had flourished. The ability to bluff, however, had been developed from necessity and practice. He waited with carefully controlled, but psychically rampant, anxiety.

[Existentially Odd]

Nervously, Sam\'s tongue slid out to wet his lips, yet he still didn\'t trust himself to speak.  Watching the other solemnly, he shook his head slowly, once to each side, and then went still.

Had he done anything to influence Gene?  In what sense did Orias even mean that?  It was a very leading question.  On the one hand, he\'d tried to influence the mortal into taking his blood so that he might be healed, and also into kissing him.  Gene had valiantly resisted both.  What he hadn\'t resisted was talking about himself, his past, his beliefs and what his general position on life was.  In that sense, he\'d influenced Gene and he was proud of it; they\'d connected as men, as southerners, as friends.  Was that so wrong?

Minutely, Sam\'s jaw lifted and just thinking about the connection he\'d established with Gene empowered him to reply as well.  "We j-just t-talked.  A lot."  Timidly, his lips twitched into a tiny smile that he hoped was innocent and reassuring.  He was pleased enough with getting the words out, hoping they sounded sincere enough to be believed.  They were more or less true, after all.