Quinn ended up spending the night after explaining what happened with his conversation with Jerry. A secret part of Malakai was not completely convinced that this wasn't the beginning to a long, drawn-out end to their relationship. Cognatively he had more hope than that, but it wasn't enough to convince the nagging in the back of his mind. They'd spent the rest of the night mostly on the couch, talking about things that were lighter than what Jerry said, watching movies, and cuddling. He didn't tell Quinn what he was planning to do, but he assumed the human would know that this conversation would be coming eventually. First he waited a full twenty-four hours, giving himself enough time to cool down and come up with a plan. Mostly trying to grapple with the fact that Jerry had opened his mouth again and he'd promised Quinn that he wouldn't hurt him.
It wasn’t often that Malakai went over to room 509 unannounced, but he doubted such courtesies would matter to Jeremiah. He wondered if such small considerations were even noticed, or why he’d even gone out of his way to make them to begin with.
Twice he knocked and listened to the rustling behind the door.
The door swung open to reveal a shirtless Jeremiah. “Oh, hey,” he clapped Mal’s shoulder in greeting, “What’s up?” Clueless as always - vampiric senses seemed to do nothing to give Jerry any kind of emotional intelligence.
“Can I come in?” Mal asked softly, his expression a serious contrast to Jerry’s typical smile. A flicker of something in Jerry's eye told Mal that it might've penetrated his facade on some level. Or maybe he was just giving him too much credit.
Jerry opened the door wider, “Uh, yeah sure,” and moved aside for Mal to pass through. With a sigh pushed heavily through his nose, Malakai walked through the familiar foyer straight into the living room. He sat on one of the couches and motioned for Jerry to join him.
“What’s uh, going on?” the smile dropped from Jerry’s face as he sat, and Mal took a little bit of satisfaction in watching it.
“We need to talk,” he stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest.
Jerry let out a single laugh, “Uh, okay, yeah.”
Mal sighed, glancing around the room and sucking on his teeth. This cluelessness, learned helplessness or whatever the hell Jerry had developed, as much as it could be endearing it was mostly irritating.
“So,” Mal rubbed the palms of his hands together, swamped with an awkwardness that he doubted he’d be able to shake. He was starting to have second thoughts - would this conversation even be worth having?
“Am I in trouble?” Jerry snickered, and Mal gave him a hard look. That was one word for it.
Mal exhaled heavily, “You had a conversation with Quinn recently,”
“Yeah!" Jerry brightened, "Dude, like, no hard feelings or anything I’m happy for ya’ll-”
“Jerry just-” Mal held up his hand, expression darkening, “That’s not the fucking point I’m trying to get to here. I don’t need your permission-”
“Yeah, no, that’s cool, but I-”
“Shut up - just shut up! For once in your life!” Mal snapped. Jerry blinked slowly, opening his mouth to speak but closing it again like a stupid fish. A moment passed while Mal swallowed the lump of anger welling in his throat. “He didn’t know, okay.” A look of confusion passed Jerry’s features and Mal let out an exasperated sigh. “He didn’t know that I’m… Not… You know, into... sex.”
“H-how was I supposed to know that!” Jerry retorted with a pout.
“You’re not - you’re not supposed to assume who knows!”
“Well, did he dump you already like, Christ, what’s the-”
“No, he didn’t dump me,” Mal snapped, trying not to dwell on Jerry jumping to that conclusion. Already, like he’s expecting it to happen. “I just don’t need you spreading around my personal business like that.”
“You’re dating him, shouldn’t he know?” Jerry’s face wrinkled in frustrated confusion.
“Yeah, when I’m ready.” Mal pressed his fingers to his chest, glaring across the room.
“So if you were going to tell him, why does it matter now?”
“Are you-” Mal groaned angrily, “Are you fucking serious?” Why did he insist on arguing every point? Malakai stood from the couch and crossed over to the kitchen, placing both palms flat on the counter. Jerry stood shortly after, tentatively turning to face him.
“Dude,” Jerry’s voice was weirdly gentle like he was attempting to do damage control without knowing where to start. “Like no offense, but don’t you think you’re overreacting?” He closed a bit of distance between them, arms hanging loose at his sides with a pleading expression on his face.
Mal hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side. He wanted to punch that stupid face so badly but he’d promised Quinn he wouldn’t. “You really are something else, Jeremiah, you know that?” He seethed, lifting his gaze to meet Jerry’s eye.
“Can you just like, calm down for two seconds?” Jerry exclaimed, holding his hands out in a stopping motion. “I seriously don’t think you’re being fair-”
“Fair?” Malakai scoffed incredulously.
“Yeah, like, I didn’t mean anything by it, so, like, maybe lay off?” Jerry’s mouth was a squiggle, brows furrowed.
It was Mal’s turn to gape, a cold fury passing over him. Somehow everything was an argument, somehow it turned into Jerry being the victim of a misunderstanding, somehow he managed to expertly evade the point of their conversation - except he’d done it purely by accident! Because at the end of the day, Jeremiah Peterson was just not that smart.
“Jerry.” Mal’s voice barely contained his rage.
After an awkward silence, Jerry hesitantly replied - “Yeah?”
“Even if it was an accident, what you did hurt me.” He spoke slowly and paused to let it sink in, wondering if what he said would even compute. “You don’t just go...talking about that kind of thing like it’s common knowledge.”
Jerry scoffed, flicking his hand out toward Mal to emphasize how ridiculous he must have thought Mal’s words to be. At least that’s what it felt like. And that was all Malakai needed to storm angrily past the other man through the foyer.
“Mal, wait, I'm-”
The door slammed, shaking the walls of the apartment.