Moonlight Saving Time

"Mmm, you smell good right now, baby," Valko says, voice almost gravely. He rolls some of his weight off of you to nose at your neck, collarbones, shoulder...

"If you sniff my pits, I'll take you to the pound," you grumble.

He chuckles, but his nose travels up once more.

The bed is a mess, because you're a mess. For the last few days, everything has felt awful. Even being forced to drag yourself out to the bathroom is a curse, let alone getting food or water or sunlight. You've cocooned yourself here, your own warm little haven of solitude. Your phone your only companion in these troubled times, showing you endless videos that keep your mind just barely entertained enough to forget everything else.

Unfortunately, Valko hates being forgotten. He hates being ignored. He hates that you've been cooped up all alone in here for so long, rotting away, not telling anyone a word of your dark thoughts and feelings.

Fortunately for him, he knows how to climb to your balcony and let himself in.

He noses at your cheek, trying to coax you to open your eyes and look at him. You hope by pretending to try to sleep, you might deter him. But it won't work, of course.

"When's the last time you had a shower, babydoll?" he asks, but instead of the gravel of intrigue or the light teasing lilt from earlier, this is serious. Soft. Gently prodding at the walls you've built up, looking for the smallest crack.

You grimace. At yourself, at the question, at how pathetic you feel. You turn your face away, further into your pillow. "Hnn, like... three days ago..." you mutter.

He makes a sound. Not judging or disgusted. Just acknowledging. He nuzzles himself into your hair, despite your whines of protest. "You wanna take a shower with me?"

You mull it over for a long while. You know it would make you feel better. Know that he wouldn't shy away from your untamed body hair. And clearly he's not screaming running from the stench...

But the thought of getting out of bed, getting into the water, having to clean yourself off, dry off, get dressed again... God, your body feels so heavy. You curl tighter into yourself.

Though, it seems, in that same stretch of time, Valko came to the decision for you.

He presses a kiss behind your ear. "I'll go get the water running," he says, before crawling out of bed.

You peek your eyes open to watch him move around. He goes into the bathroom and starts the water, giving it time to heat up. He goes into the closet to grab two clean towels, mismatched, because you haven't bothered with laundry. He hangs them both up, tests the water, adjusts it, leaves it alone again.

He goes into your dresser next. You whine your complaints as he sifts through your underwear to find the softest pair. He shoots you a wink as he drapes them over his shoulder. He grabs some of your comfiest lazy-day clothes, too. It takes a moment of searching and rummaging before he finds one of his hoodies. He gives it a sniff and huffs, disappointed that his smell has worn off. But, he adds it to the pile anyway.

"What're you gonna wear?" you ask him. You don't have enough of his clothes here (yet) to build an outfit for him.

He shoots you another cocky look as he steps out of the room, one leg coming up as he leans out of the door, before coming back to the ground as he lifts up a duffle bag. "I came prepared."

You blink at him. "You... Why did you bring your stuff?"

"Isn't that obvious?" He drops it onto the foot of the bed, unzips it, and pulls out a mess of unfolded clothes. He pauses to think for a moment, humming thoughtfully, before he pulls out a sweater, grabs the sweatshirt he left with your clothes, and replaces it. With a satisfied nod, he stuffs the sweatshirt back into the duffle. "My puppy needed me, so I came prepared."

You scoff, hiding half of your face under the edge of the blanket. "I don't need you."

He smacks your foot over the blankets, frowning at you. "Yes, you do. Now," he comes around to your side, reaching under the blankets and hoisting you up, "bath time!"

"Ah! Val- Valko!" The blankets cling to you, wrapped around you from your cocoon. You wriggle, pulling them partway off your bed before you manage to escape from their clutches. Valko just laughs, unwavering, as he carries you to the bathroom.

-

"Show me those fangs," he orders playfully, muffled around the toothbrush hanging from his mouth. His hands are busy loading up your own brush with toothpaste.

You scowl. "I'm not gonna let you brush my teeth."

He sets down the tube and runs a little bit of water over the paste to soften it. Then he turns to you fully and nudges your chin with his finger. "Show me 'em!"

When you continue to refuse, he tries prying your lips apart with his fingers. You bite at them, catching them between your teeth. He laughs, playfully shaking your head back and forth like you're a dog with a toy.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you relent.

"Good puppy," he praises, still muffled. With one hand holding your chin, he gets to work brushing your teeth for you. It's stupid. It's weird. It's cute seeing the way he focuses on the task, brows pinched and green foam starting to drool down his chin. He brushes thoroughly, ensuring he gets around your gum line, the back molars, and the other side of your teeth, too.

He's so pretty, you think as you watch him. His hair is flat from the water, cheek pushed out from his toothbrush, skin dewy from stealing some of your lotion... And he came over, broke in, brought his own clothes, just so he could take care of you. Even when you don't want him to. Even when you need to do these things. He doesn't bat an eye at how stupid it all is; how stupid you are for wanting to rot and feel worse.

His golden eyes suddenly flick up to yours. They widen slightly. You understand why when his hand releases your chin to brush away tears from under your eyes. "Wha's wron?" he asks around too much foam.

You shake your head, grabbing hold of his wrist to remove the brush from your mouth. He watches, caught a bit off kilter, as you spit and rinse. When you rise, he's still standing there, looking a bit dumb with your toothbrush in one hand and his still hanging out of his mouth. You can't help but laugh. He looks even more confused when you do, until he glances in the mirror and seems to remember he hasn't brushed his teeth yet. The green foam has gathered at the corners of his mouth, forming a steady line down his chin.

He makes a sound, quickly rinses your brush off and drops it into the cup, and leans over the sink as he rapidly brushes his teeth. You laugh even harder, amused by how intense he looks as he brushes at his fangs. "Shaddap," he gripes, but there's not an ounce of real annoyance or venom in it.

He spits, rinses, and wipes the foam off his face, double checking in the mirror that he got it all. Then he rinses his brush and drops it into the cup beside yours.

You're still a little giggly as he turns back to you, grabbing you in a squeezing hug as he aggressively rubs his cheeks against your head. "You think that's funny, huh?"

"Yes," you admit, hugging him around the waist to squeeze him in return.

He huffs, but he doesn't argue. Just holds you, rocking idly back and forth, as you settle into his arms. After a moment, he settles, too, resting his head against yours without trying to scent you some more. "What were you crying about?" he asks quietly.

You nuzzle into his neck. He's so warm. He smells like his bodywash and shampoo, and a little like your lotion and mint toothpaste. All wrapped up in him like this, you hate the idea of hiding in bed again, surrounded by your cold blankets and own smell. "I was crying cuz... I love you."

"Loving me makes you cry?"

You huff. "No, I mean, like... You came all this way for me. And you didn't leave, even though I was trying to push you away. And I just- I love you."

"Oh." He kisses your head multiple times. "I love you, too. And I'm not done takin' care of you yet. I can hear your stomach growling, puppy. Anythin' you wanna eat, you got it."

After all he's done, food doesn't sound like so much of a burden. You just think of all the amazing food you're craving now. All the things you can have, that you'll let yourself want, because you know he'd do anything to make sure you got it. Anything to make sure his mate is happy again.

He nudges your face away from his neck, pressing his forehead to yours so you have to keep your eyes on him. "Next time you feel like shit, tell me, okay? I'm always gonna be here for you, even if you don't think you deserve it. I like taking care of you."

You're a little misty-eyed as you nod. "I'll try."

"Good." He pulls away to kiss your nose, then under your eye. "Good puppy. Now give me your food order. I'm startin' to think you swallowed a wolf with all that growling."

---

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“What the—?” he grumbles.

A voice drifts down from above you both:

“They love me… they love me not. They love me… they love me not. They love me…”

You fold your arms, squinting up at Xavier, who’s leant wistfully on the balcony above yours. He plucks petals from a flower as he whispers into the night, and the moon, ever his co-conspirator, is bathing his melancholy in silver.

Valko frowns upwards. The latest petal is spiralling down towards his face again, and he sends it away with a pointed puff of breath. “Hey… hey, you!” he calls out, a surprising amount of sympathy sanding down his gruffness; it might even be empathy. “You okay up there?”

Xavier sighs softly. “I’m okay.”

For the love of— “Xavier.” You step towards your balcony’s edge so you can stare up at him more fully. “This isn’t what it looks like, okay? He’s just a friend! Not even that, really.”

“They love me…” Xavier muses on.

Valko glances at you. “You know him?”

“He’s my partner. From work,” you’re quick to add. Too quick.

“They love me not.”

“Oh cut it out, Xavi! Fine! He’s more than my partner. It’s… complicated. Valko, that’s Xavier. Xavier… this is Valko.”

Xavier finally turns his eyes down on you both, and he smiles warmly, giving a wave. “Hi.”

That’s not a good smile, that’s his secretly-plotting-a-murder smile.

“Uh… hey,” Valko answers.

“Xavier? I’m okay, really. I can handle this myself.”

“I know you can.” Xavier’s chin rests, propped up by his hand; the half-plucked flower tickles his cheek. You can’t see his other hand, which means it’s down by his side, holding his sword. “But I’m here if you need me. Always.”

“Thanks.” And you are grateful. On edge, but grateful. “I’m good, though. Promise. Got it under control.”

“Yeah?” Valko’s shadow is swallowing you again. “Think you’ve got what it takes to tame the wol—?”

You press a finger to his mouth, smiling innocently up at Xavier, whose gaze has gone narrow. Oblivious to the danger, Valko smirks, then tries to nip at your fingertip. You wish you did have a muzzle.

“Night, Xavier!” you dismiss sweetly.  

“Goodnight,” he murmurs back, because he does— despite his worry, and the stranger still trying to playfully catch your finger in his mouth— trust you. He withdraws from his vantage point, sword swung back against his shoulder and glinting ominously. A blink-and-you-miss-it threat, just like the rest of him.

A slow breath leaves your lips. You flick Valko square in the middle of his forehead.

"Ah..." he winces, face scrunched, but his pupils dilate in excitement. “Where were we?”

“You were about five sentences away from propositioning me, I think.”

“Fifteen, actually. Now who’s acting familiar?”

You’re about to scoff and say something else— something along the lines of you having no intention, whatsoever, of letting his ridiculous (albeit, very fine) ass into your home— when a loud squawk interrupts you. Your body goes tense.

A red-eyed crow is perched on your balcony rail, watching. By extension, a nosy, red-eyed man, too.

Valko sneers at where Mephisto is hunched, all bristling black feathers, being buffeted by the wind. “That’s a weird-looking thing.”

“That’s Mephisto.”

“Huh?”

Mephisto caws in indignance, his cover betrayed. You tug Valko into your apartment. “C’mon. If we’re gonna be hanging out, there’s some stuff you should know.”