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Now Soren kicked his heels against the bottom of the kitchen counter he was perched on, watching Jay fiddle around on the stove, his human sulking at the opposite counter.

Soren would ask Gabe again when they were alone.

If Gabe thought he could keep all his feelings inside, he was vastly underestimating Soren’s ability to pester them out of him.

Jay sang to himself at the stove, completely oblivious to Gabe’s mini temper tantrum.

The other vampire had taken the news that Soren and Gabe had been ordering in for most of their meals as an invitation to try out cooking for the first time.

Soren hadn’t had the heart to tell him that Gabe mostly stuck with boring toast after a night shift, especially after Jay had begged him to help look up online recipes for omelets, of all things.

“Okay,” Jay said cheerily. “I think they’re ready.”

Soren glanced down at the barely recognizable blobs on the pan. At the moment, he was feeling immeasurably pleased he didn’t have to consume human food for survival.

They ate at the kitchen counters. Or at least, they tried to. Jay’s omelets were somehow both burned on the outside and runny on the inside. A masterful culinary feat, in Soren’s opinion.

He watched in fascination as Jay took a bite of his own food. After a hard swallow, Jay shot Soren a concerned look. “Humans like these?” the vampire asked.

“Well, not these ,” Soren answered, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Don’t tease him.” Gabe finally broke his silence to defend Soren’s friend. “These were great, Jay.”

“But you only ate your toast?” Jay questioned.

“Um…” Gabe clearly didn’t have an answer for that.

“He’ll never learn if you lie to him,” Soren admonished. “The omelets were terrible.” He took one look at the crestfallen look on Jay’s face and sighed. “But the effort was sweet. Thank you.”

Jay flushed, nodding. “I’ll learn. I can be useful, I promise.”

“You don’t need to be useful ,” Soren told him.

“But I can be,” Jay insisted.

Christ. Whatever. Jay had spent the vast majority of his long years of existence in servitude to another. It wasn’t a habit Soren was going to break overnight.

He sighed, tugging Gabe up from his spot at the counter. “Thanks for the meal, Jaybird. Time to get cranky pants to bed.”

Gabe frowned ferociously at him. “I’m not a cranky pants.”

Soren patted Gabe’s back soothingly, herding his human up the stairs. “Sure you’re not.”

They changed into their pajamas, Gabe giving Soren the silent treatment the whole time. Well, Soren changed into his silk set. Gabe just undressed down to his boxer briefs, his preferred sleeping outfit.

Soren had no complaints.

Settling into bed, for once, Gabe didn’t immediately pull Soren into his arms. The human was clearly tangled up in his own head. Soren smirked to himself. It had been so long since he’d dealt with brusque, standoffish Gabe. It made Soren feel almost nostalgic.

“How are you doing over there, Highness?” he asked.

Gabe grunted in response.

Soren patted at the space between them on the bed. “It’s just so lonely all the way over here, all by myself,” he teased.

Gabe gave him an impressively bitchy side-eye. “You don’t even like cuddling,” he grumbled.

Soren shrugged. “Maybe not usually. I don’t mind it with you though.”

Gabe gave him an inscrutable look. “And why is that, do you think?” he asked.

“How about you tell me all about what bug crawled up your ass, then I’ll share about my precious feelings?” Soren offered.

That response had Gabe sulking, but after a minute, he lifted an arm, a clear invitation for Soren to come closer. Soren sidled in, tucking himself easily against Gabe’s chest. The tension in the human’s larger frame eased substantially.

But Soren didn’t think his touch was the only reason Gabe had beckoned him closer; at this angle, his human could share without them having to look each other in the eye. Fine by Soren, if it got Gabe to talk.

He pressed a kiss to Gabe’s pec, taking a moment to appreciate the human’s shiver. “What happened at work?” Soren asked, wanting to get straight to the point.

“My patient died,” Gabe said simply.

“I see.” Soren didn’t, exactly. Gabe worked in intensive care. He must have seen his fair share of dying patients, even if he was a relatively new doctor. “Were you especially close to them?” Soren asked.

“No.”

Soren hummed. “Okay.”

Gabe took a deep breath, the exaggerated motion lifting Soren’s head with his chest. “A patient died last night too.”

“Did— Did you make some mistakes or something?” Soren pressed. Guilt could be a powerful downer; maybe that was why his human was so put out.

Gabe sighed heavily. “Not really. I did everything I could.”

“I believe that.” Soren did.

“It’s just… I hate it sometimes. Losing those battles. Feeling like I—like I let someone down. Let everybody down. That’s all I do, it seems.”

Soren’s brow furrowed. “You don’t let everybody down.”

“I let Danny down.”

This again? Soren sat up, tilting his head to meet Gabe’s golden-eyed gaze.

He grabbed the human’s chin, not willing to let him duck away.

“Listen. Yes, you had a bad stretch. You weren’t the best brother in the whole wide world for a time.

Big whoop. You were also there for Danny during the worst time in his life, taking care of him when your mom couldn’t.

Nobody’s perfect. Why is it that you expect yourself to be? ”

“I just— I want…” Gabe didn’t seem to know how to finish that statement.

“You’re being an idiot,” Soren scolded. “Modern medicine can’t save everyone. You’re a doctor, not a magician. And you know that . I know you know that.”

Gabe made a strangled sound, his chest shaking, and for a horrifying moment, Soren thought he had made him cry. But then Gabe started laughing. “I knew you’d call me an idiot.”

Soren huffed. “I guess I’m not the most sympathetic ear.”

Gabe pulled Soren back into his arms. “No, I like it. I think I need to hear it sometimes. When my brain runs away from me.”

“I can call you an idiot as much as you like,” Soren offered happily.

Gabe kissed the top of his head. “Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around Soren, pressing him into his muscled chest.

Cuddle slut.

They rested in comfortable silence for a time. “You know,” Gabe said out of the blue, “I never wanted magic to be real.”

“Hm?”

“Even as a kid. I remember Danny reading all those wizard books and going absolutely crazy for those movies about the little hairy-feet guys.”

“Hobbits,” Soren supplied.

Gabe nodded. “Yeah, those. But I never did. I just wanted— I wanted the world to make sense . That felt like enough.”

“You know, losing your dad at that age…having such a pillar in your life taken away when you were young…it’s no wonder you craved stability,” Soren mused.

Gabe shrugged. “Even before that. And it’s not like it affected Danny that way. He lost our dad even younger, and he still accepted the news of vampires existing like it was just any other thing. He didn’t take a full year to come to terms with it.”

Was that what Gabe had been doing? Coming to terms with the change in his reality? Did that mean he’d be open to other changes, given enough time? Permanent, “turn you into a vampire” changes?

“He had you ,” Soren said, trying not to get ahead of himself.

“What?”

“He lost your dad, yes. But he still had you. Taking care of him. Holding it together. He had stability because he had you.”

Gabe tensed. “Jesus, brat. You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“I think I’m in danger of…liking you? Like, a lot. You were supposed to be a monster. A manipulative, demonic creature.”

Soren laughed. “Is that what you told yourself I was?”

“For a while there, yes.”

Soren looked up, catching Gabe’s eye. “I’m not a good person though. You know that, right? I’m selfish. Vain. Petty.”

Gabe smirked down at him. “You’re the one who just told me nobody’s perfect. And you’re good to me. And to Roman. Danny. Jay, even. You’re not as bad as you think.”

“Idiot,” Soren grumbled.

“Your idiot,” Gabe answered, holding him close.