#britchell

The morning after the Ga, Mitchell knows in his bones that Anders is gone. Not dead, just… gone.

The thing walking around in his skin isn’t Anders. It may look like him, same honey hair, same dimples, same blue eyes. But it isn't Anders. It isn't the same sharp-tongued son of a bitch who laughed too loudly when they first met and leaned in too close when he was drunk, who said to him, Mitchell, you’ve got to stop looking at me like that or I'm going to get the wrong idea, and then kissed him anyway.

The night before the Ga, Mitchell fell asleep with Anders' head on his chest. Before that, they'd fucked slow and tender, sharing hungry kisses and whispering promises about how they'd make it through, that no matter what happened, when the world was quiet again, they would find each other.

But the morning after, it wasn't Anders lying in their bed anymore. It was Bragi, and Bragi had waited too long in the dark.

Mitchell presses his palms to his eyes hard enough to see sparks. He wants to scream. He can still feel Anders all over him, can still smell him in the sheets, but he is gone now.

Last night had been slow and stupid and human. They'd sat curled up on Anders' couch, buck ass naked and sharing a bottle of Anders' expensive whiskey, passing it back and forth, their fingers brushing and their legs entangled. Anders had looked softer than Mitchell had ever seen him. None of his usual bravado or smirk, all of that had been plucked from him with the uncertainty of what the morning would bring.

“Maybe it won’t happen,” Anders had said quietly. “Maybe we’ll just wake up and still be us.”

“You don’t believe that,” Mitchell had said.

Anders had smiled. “No. But you do. That’s what I like about you. You're dumb enough to believe in shit that can hurt.”

Now, the hurt was all that was left.

Bragi had looked at him through Anders' eyes when he'd first woken and there had been nothing behind them. Mitchell had wanted to shake him, to drag Anders back out of whatever divine rot had swallowed him whole. But the god had only smiled with serene detachment and had risen from their bed.

"Mitchell," Bragi had said, his voice sounding wrong in Anders' mouth. "You should be grateful, I have freed him."

And then Bragi had left to join the rest of the gods. Ty, Mike, Axl… they're all gone now, replaced by the beings who had risen as Bragi did, leaving the rest of them behind with nothing. Mitchell wonders how Dawn is handling it. He thinks he should call her, but he can't bring himself to move.

Instead he sits in the silence, letting it surround him, swaddle him so tightly he can barely breathe from it.

The night before the Ga, one of the very last things Anders had said to him was see you tomorrow, not entirely serious but wanting to be. His lips had twisted strangely, somewhere between irony and sorrow.

Sometimes Anders preferred the play; him and Mitchell putting on an act for each other, whether they pretended to be something other than they were or not. Other times he favored the sex itself, hand grabbing his hair as he's pushed into the bed, being forced to his knees; or pinning Mitchell under him as he teased the other man in one way or another.

But always, he enjoyed these moments the most. Mitchell softly carding his hand through his hair, pressed close to each other, falling to exhaustion, enjoying each other's presence.

Though, and as much as he loved their routine, which he did; that pulsing sensation from Mitchell which he knew was not the result of any of their activities always nagged at him. 

“Mitchell…” he muttered, half muffled by the pillow.

“Hm?”

“You're staring.”

“Am I?”

He could hear that faux innocence Mitchell tried to play off in his voice. That grin of his supporting it no doubt. Still, Anders kept his eyes shut, giving a hum and a nod. “You are.”

“How do you know?”

“I'm a god.” He let the word drag out.

Mitchell chuckled. “I don't remember nigh-omniscience being included in that package deal.”

“I'm a man of many talents, Mitchell.” 

And there it was. The first thing Anders saw as he peaked his eyes open, more contagious than he counted on. That smile. He's been counting on it being there, even if he had been wrong—even though he knew he was right.

He blinked. Snorting as he couldn't help his own smile. He brought his hand up and poked the tip of Mitchell's nose. “Staring.”

“I can't help myself!” He broke, laughing.

Anders pushed himself up onto his arm. “Can't look away from my chiseled features and god-like physique?”

“Do you blame me?” The bed shifted as Mitchell moved closer, sliding himself down to properly get close. Bodies pressed close as he brushed the tips of their noses together.

“No.” Anders considered it all. “The attention of a vampire; maybe that's just what I'm aiming for.”

“You always have it,” Mitchell reassured.

He did.

“Maybe I want more,” Anders continued.

Their eyes met for a brief second before Mitchell was moving in for a kiss. The first being the softest as he moved across his jaw and down his neck, pressing in more and more. 

Anders leaned his head back, giving him further access to his neck. The last kiss was pressed to the bottom of his neck as he kissed then sucked on the dip of his color bone, his fangs brushing against his skin as he did so. A soft moan escaped Anders lips, his throat straining as a reminder of their activities not just a half an hour earlier. Another round—as enticing as it sounded—was not in the cards for him.

The bed creaked under them as he slid his hand to the back of Mitchell's neck and placed the other to his chest to gently push him away. “And as much as I do want more, I don't have your energy.”

“Vampire; what can I say?” Mitchell teased. Fangs peaking through his grin that solidified his word more.

“You can say Anders come here so I can give you all the cuddles you so wish for.” He slithered his arm under Mitchell as he spoke, wrapping himself around the other man and laying his head on his chest.

Mitchell blew out some air. “Can I?” Yet he wrapped his arms around him in return.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, already drifting off again. “You can.”