~*~
Singing along with the radio, Simon Walker pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine. Barely glancing at the yellow caution tape fluttering in the wind around what had once been his neighbor's house, he grabbed his jacket, thermos, and a shoebox full of mail out of the passenger's seat. The house had belonged to Julian and Raven Marcellos--brother and sister, not husband and wife--until a suspicious accident a few months ago involving a gas leak and a lit candle reduced the building to a pile of charred rubble and killed Julian. At least, that's what everyone else thought.
With the box tucked under his arm, Simon headed up the front walk, whistling to himself as he inspected the new row of freshly planted marigolds beside the walkway. What was it about Raven and marigolds? Simon's gaze swept the rest of his property, spots of yellow, gold, orange, and rust filling every bare patch of dirt. She'd even dug up the edge of his lawn to lay in another marigold bed. Not that cared, really--less lawn meant less mowing--but he did wonder if marigolds held some special meaning for her.
Unlocking the front door, Simon stepped inside, into the cool foyer of his small, two-story home. He could hear Raven in the kitchen, running water and rattling silverware, and the rich, spicy aroma of enchilada sauce filled the house. As he entered the kitchen, he dropped his keys upon the counter, set his thermos beside them, and tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, just like he had every weekday for two and a half years. The only difference was the wereraven doing his dishes.
Raven glanced over her shoulder at him, her long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, her dark eyes sharp and glittering, like the eyes of a bird.
"Smells good," Simon said, stepping over to the table and setting the box of mail down. "Enchiladas?"
"Is that how you say it?" Raven asked, her voice harsh and raspy. "There was a coupon in the sale paper at work, and the picture on the box didn't look completely disgusting." She shut off the water and dried her hands on a dish towel as she crossed the room and peered into the shoebox. "Did it come?"
"I don't know," Simon said with a shrug. "I didn't get a chance to look through a week's worth of junk mail." He'd tried to talk her into submitting a change of address form, especially after the first month of living in his guest room, but she kept insisting that it wasn't a permanent arrangement. Three months later, he was still picking up her mail at the post office.
"There wouldn't be a week's worth if you'd go every day like I told you to," Raven said, beginning to pick through the credit card offers and cable internet fliers.
"'Told me to' being the key phrase there, Raven," Simon said. "If you want me to drive twenty minutes out of my way in rush-hour traffic to get your mail, you might want to try asking. I'm going to go upstairs and shower." She didn't respond, her brow furrowed as she sorted the mail. He was used to her ignoring him, but this time it was excusable. She'd been waiting to hear from Julian's insurance company for months.
Simon left the kitchen, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to kick off his sneakers before heading up. He'd only taken a few steps when he heard Raven let out a whoop.
"It's here!" she shouted. "About ******** time."
Simon hurried back into the kitchen as she ripped the envelope open and pulled out a single-page letter. Holding the folded paper in one hand and the empty envelope in the other, she scowled and shook the envelope over the table.
"Isn't there supposed to be a check inside?" she asked. She jumped as the loud, squealing sound of an electric guitar issued from her pocket. Simon reached over and took the letter from her as she pulled out her screaming cell phone. "Where's the check?" she said in place of the customary Hello? Simon opened the letter and began to read. Most of it was in legalese, which might as well have been Korean for all that Simon understood it, but one section was perfectly clear. He glanced at Raven, the cell up to her ear.
"Well?" she said.
"They're not going to pay," Simon said, and handed the letter. "The claim has been denied because of 'intentional damage by the insured party'." That didn't make any sense, though.
"I thought the police said it was inconclusive," Raven said.
"That was the last I heard." Simon shook his head and reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Let me see if I still have that detective's card."
"He's looking for it now," Raven said into the phone. "Even though I told him to burn it."
"And I told you, lots of guys on this planet have names that start with T. Detective Tanner is not a Huntsman." The Huntsmen were an occasionally fanatical branch of law enforcement that dealt specifically with Weres--back on Nethmalon, Raven and Julian's home planet--and no matter how many times Simon assured her that Earth didn't have secret werewolf police, she was still suspicious of any guy whose name started with the letter T.
Simon found the card and dialed, pacing around the kitchen as he waited for an answer.
"Hello, Detective Tanner speaking."
"Yes, this is Simon Walker calling about case number..." He flipped the card over and read the string of digits off the back. "The unsolved explosion that killed Julian Marcellos?"
"Oh, right," Detective Tanner said with a distinct lack of expression in his voice. "How can I help you?"
"Well..." Simon quickly explained about the letter. "The last we heard, the police report said it was inconclusive, but it sounds like they're blaming Julian. Can they do that?"
"I'm not familiar with the policies of the insurance company," Detective Tanner said. "Didn't an officer contact you a couple of weeks ago?"
"I don't think so," Simon said, and relayed the question to Raven, who shook her head. "No, we haven't heard from anyone in months."
"Damn it," Detective Tanner muttered. Simon heard him draw a slow breath. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but forensics found evidence that the explosion was deliberate and that Mr. Marcellos was responsible. I apologize for not telling you personally when the report came back, but I was wrapped up in another case. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, that's...that's everything. Thank you for your time." He hung up and just stared at Raven for a long moment. "They were able to prove Julian caused it," he said finally. Raising his voice so that Julian could hear through the phone--and probably through the floor, too--he added, "Next time to want to kill yourself, make it look like an accident."
He couldn't really blame Julian, though. It wasn't like Julian had planned on being hunted down by the vampire mafia, having assassins invade his home, and being forced to fake his own death to protect Simon and Raven from the wrath of a Master vampire. God, that sounded so ridiculous, but ever since Julian and Raven had moved in next door, ridiculous had become the norm.
"Yeah, all right; I'll tell him," Raven said, and hung up her phone. "Julian wants to talk to you."
"And you couldn't just hand me the phone?" Simon asked.
"He wants you to come down. He's been remodeling again."
Simon groaned.
"We can't afford any more remodels."
"Don't worry, he only sent me to the hardware store twice," Raven said, collecting all the unopened mail and dumping it back in the shoebox. "You better get down there; dinner will be ready in an hour." Simon stood a moment, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at the floor. He was tired, he was hungry, and he wanted a shower, but, while Julian loved showing off his skill with drywall mud, there was a good chance the handsome vampire had something else on his mind.
ETA: Due to Chigotsa's comment about "recent pop culture events" I decided to add in Julian's introduction. If you're offended by mild sexual references and gay flirting, read no farther.
Running his hands back through his shaggy blond hair, Simon headed down the hall, pausing outside the basement door to unbutton the top three buttons on his shirt. He pulled the door open, descending into the cool, underground lair of the vampire, his stocking feet making no sound on the thick, dark carpet that covered the stairs. A pale, fluid blue-green light played over the walls and ceiling, Julian's prized lava lamp sitting upon a crude plank shelf against one wall. It, and the old, wrought iron head and foot boards from his bed, were the only things of his that he had saved from the explosion.
At the bottom of the stairs, Simon stopped and looked around, admiring Julian's handiwork, and inwardly cringing as he estimated the expense. What had been a dark, damp hole in the ground beneath his house was now a small, almost finished room. The walls needed painted and the light fixture on the ceiling was just a hole with wires hanging down, but the carpet was beautiful, the color of dark red wine, and sheer burgundy curtains hung from the ceiling around the bed.
Speaking of the bed...Julian lay upon the cream-colored sheets, his skin more pale than the cloth, but in a rich, ivory sort of way, not like pasty, sickly people. Simon stepped further into the room, absently licking suddenly dry lips as his gaze moved up Julian's long, strong legs, lingering on his boxer shorts--purple this time, with lime green dragonflies on them--over his flat stomach and smooth chest, his broad shoulders and muscular arms, his hands laced behind his head as he smiled softly.
"Hello, Simon," he said, his voice dark and decadent, like melting chocolate, the sort of voice a vampire was supposed to have.
Simon tore his gaze away and cleared his throat.
"Hi, Julian," he said, attempting casual and coming close. Just because he already had a hard-on didn't mean he couldn't play hard to get. They both knew what the end result would be, but that didn't make the game any less enjoyable. "I thought I told you there wasn't any more money for remodeling. What did you do?"
"Worked on the wiring," Julian said, the bed creaking, but Simon deliberately turned away, refusing to look at him. "I needed a new switch plate, and then I sent her for some paint samples. I thought a nice eggshell or sand would look good on the walls. What do you think?" Simon suppressed a shiver as Julian's voice drew closer. A 'tamed' vampire was still a vampire, and his presence made Simon's heart beat just a little faster, even after all these months of him living in Simon's basement.
"I think I need to find a second job to pay for your redecorating habit," Simon said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Is money all you think about?" Julian asked with a chuckle, his chill breath tickling the side of Simon's neck. Simon stepped away and turned to face him, out of breath when he tried to speak.
"One of us has to," he said. "I know houses aren't that important to you--you blew yours up--but I'd like to keep mine out of foreclosure. Raven's still only part-time at the grocery, and my company is talking about laying some people off, and you--" All you do is hide in my basement and spend my money.
"If I could find a job, I would," Julian said, frowning. "It's hard to pass a background check when you're legally dead, and we both know what would happen if I was recognized. Well, maybe you don't." He turned away, running a hand back through his loose, shoulder-length black curls. Their foreplay suddenly didn't feel so playful.
"You're right," Simon said. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired and...and worried. I don't want to lose my house."
"I'd never let that happen," Julian said. "I'll rob banks if I have to."
Simon laughed and stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around the vampire's waist and resting his chin on Julian's shoulder.
"Hopefully it won't came to that," he said, and brazenly kissed the side of Julian's neck. Julian stiffened, standing inhumanly still as Simon left a line of lingering kisses down his neck and onto the curve of his shoulder.
"Simon," Julian whispered, a warning in his tone. A vampire's instincts were strong--overwhelming at times--and Simon was walking a fine line when it came to vampire etiquette. He was essentially challenging Julian's dominance--a button he discovered he enjoyed pushing. He trusted Julian to restrain himself, just as Julian trusted him to stop before it went too far.
