34 I Will Be Yours and You Will Be Mine

Two figures sat huddled close together on the highest rooftop of Lenore, against a backdrop of celestial splendor. Idly, a hand swirled around a brew of liquid gold, before tipping up the bottle to take a drink.

"Refreshing!" the vampire declared with a satisfied sigh, "Alright, my dearest. Your turn."

The tailor glanced from the bottle to Alabaster's face in contemplation, before he finally claimed the offering.

"I still can't believe you brought a nightcap along. And one so expensive at that."

Simon held the Dragon's Eye Rum up to the moonlight. He marveled at how the alcohol had an almost luminescent quality to it, compliments of the magic running through every, precious drop.

"What possessed you to make such an extravagant purchase? A textbook case of impulse buying?"

The tailor's thrifty habits hadn't gone unnoticed by the vampire; holding something this opulent in his hands seemed to be causing a textbook case of sticker shock.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't the one to buy it. It was given to me."

"Oh? Let me guess. Mira?"

"Of course. It seemed to be a parting gift. Something about good luck?"

Simon couldn't help, but to roll his eyes. It was no secret that Mira had been trying to get her gentlemanly friend to cast off the trappings of propriety for years, if only to know the pleasure of a carnal touch. It wouldn't matter who he picked, the she-elf insisted. As long as Simon found him fetching at the time.

'Come on! It will change your entire outlook on life!'

In spite of how much conviction that statement carried, Simon dug his heels in. Time and time again, the tailor declared that wasn't interested in casual relationships. He considered them wastes of time, resources and energy. But, now that he had fallen in love, all excuses were out the window. Thus, Mira had sent this token of 'good luck' to give him that last, little boost of liquid courage needed to finally take the plunge.

"That meddling woman," he breathed with an understated groan, "Very well, down the hatch."

The tailor held up the bottle in a mock toast, before taking a sip. The taste surprised him and the warmth tricking down his throat drew a sigh of pleasure.

"My stars, but that does go down smoothly!"

"Indeed. It would seem that your friend is a princess, through and through. Very royal tastes."

"A very royal pain in my unmentionables, that's what she is."

That statement drew a mysterious, warm smile out of the vampire.

"Perhaps. But, I think Mira compliments you. She seems to bring out the best in you. A perfect companion."

The tailor's only response was another swig of rum and a splash of color rising high on his cheeks.

'YOU'RE my perfect companion.'

It wasn't a thought he was willing to say aloud. But, Simon being able to admit this revelation to himself felt like a giant leap forward. Perhaps against conventional wisdom, some answers could be found at bottom of a bottle, after all. Although, speaking of strong drink, the tailor was beginning to realize that he was more inebriated than he thought. But, at the end of the day, the normally sensible and prudent Mr. Hart couldn't bring himself to care.

Alabaster Stone was the most powerful person the tailor had ever met, bar none. If he wanted to do him harm, the vampire would have already done it. Instead, the other man with crystal eyes and a heart of gold, used his supernatural strength to protect him. Strong arms that could have easily broken him, shielded him from the cruelties of the world.

His past self would have been appalled at this turn of events; positively disgusted at the shards of vulnerability he was allowing the other man to see. Showing his back to a vampire and not expecting to find fangs in it, would have been unthinkable a short time ago. However, like the seasons, people changed.

"My dearest tailor, what would you say to a game?"

"What sort of game?"

"It's called Nonsense. We would each take turns making a statement and the other has to guess whether or not it's true. The loser of each round takes a drink. Does that sound agreeable to you?"

"I would be willing to take on such a challenge, my fine gentleman," the tailor said, sitting tall with confidence.

"Thank you for indulging me. Would you be willing to start us off?"

"Hardly! You suggested this entertainment, which is obviously a poorly veiled hunt for secrets. So, you go first."

The vampire's grin was utterly adoring, though it had a cutting edge to it. One that ignited a smirk on Simon's face, in turn.

"You can see right through me. Can't you, my darling Mr. Hart?"

"Of course, I can. A vampire, you are. A sneak, you are not."

The vampire gave an amused huff, before placing the bottle of rum between them.

"Very well. You're right. It's only fair that I start us off."

There was a moment of silence, as the nobleman collected his thoughts.

"I've never been in love with anyone else."

The tailor blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the game to get as heavy as this so quickly. But, then again, perhaps Alabaster was trying to throw him off the scent with some ludicrous statement that couldn't possibly be true? Simon eyed the vampire with a deep suspicion.

"Nonsense. You've lived for dozens, possibly hundreds of life times."

"It sounds unbelievable, I know. But, I swear that it's the truth."

The tailor began to see a flaw in this particular pastime. Every word had to be taken at face value for it to work. It was a game just as much about building trust as it was about unearthing secrets. The human stared for a few moments in thought, before claiming the bottle and taking a hardy swig. The vampire was all smiles.

"Don't get cocky, Lord Stone. It's my turn now. Hm. Yes, I think I've got the perfect one. I've not so much as graced the doorway of a brothel."

The nobleman's keen gaze swept over the tailor, scrutinizing every inch of his beloved's surprisingly good poker face.

"Nonsense?"

The tailor glared, before holding out his hand for the rum, causing the Crystal Vampire's jaw to drop. Laughter spilled into the air as he bitterly chugged.

"My my! I never took you for that sort! I honestly thought I would be the one drinking!"

Alabaster sighed, before leaning back to gaze into the night sky. The tailor rose an eyebrow at the other man's wistful look. Was that disappointment he could see lingering in the corners of a barely there smile?

"You learn new things everyday, I suppose. But, truly, my love, you've ventured into a house of ill repute?"

"Not for the reason you might suspect. A madam there needed her clothes mended after- Well, I won't talk on such things," he mouthed haughtily, before taking a draw from the bottle just for the Hell of it, "I'm still a proper gentleman, after all."

They said that curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Never before had Simon Hart found a situation where he felt that saying actually fit; until now.

"Yes, you are, my dearest one," he said with shimmering eyes, "You certainly are a proper gentleman."

The vampire then gave a smile bright enough to outshine the stars, the moon and dare he say it, even the sun. Simon shook his head; could Alabaster have been any more obvious? The tailor of Lenore would have been irritated, if that sentiment wasn't going head to head in a losing race with flattery.

"Jealousy does not become you, Mr. Stone. And need I remind you that it's your turn?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Blue suddenly captured green in a powerful hold. Something was up the road. Simon's lips parted with anticipation. But, never in a million years could he have prepared himself for what came next.

"...I've never kissed a soul."

The tailor heard his response come out in a whisper of shock.

"...Nonsense."

"It's the truth. The lips of this incarnation have never touched another's. Drink up, dear tailor."

"I still call nonsense!"

The gentleman was on his feet, before he knew it, waving his arms around in frustration.

"That's simply not possible!"

"And why is that?"

"Because you're too beautiful for it to be true, damn it!"

It was only when the words tumbled out of his mouth that the human realized the weight of what he said. A groan of mortification rumbled out of the tailor, as he plopped back down and reached for the bottle of rum. But, it never touched his lips. The vampire placed a finger on the glass, gently lowering it with his superior strength.

Alabaster shook his head, before resting his forehead against the other man's. It seemed that he was unwilling to let Simon escape this moment through alcohol or any other distractions.

"I like when you call me that, you know."

"What?"

"Beautiful."

"I-I, well, don't get used to it."

The vampire pulled back to take in his beloved's flush, with a hum of amusement. It was a state that came to a screeching halt the moment Simon surprised him by butting his forehead up against his, demandingly.

"...What if we were to fix that?"

"Fix what?"

"The part about you not being kissed."

The vampire fell silent with shock.

"You can refuse, of course," the human whispered, holding his position with a dogged determination as he stared into the other man's eyes, "As you well know, I am nothing, if not a gentleman. If you reject my advances, I will never bring it up again. However, know this. I haven't had my first kiss, either."

"Quite bold of you, Mr. Hart," the nobleman audibly swallowed.

The human leaned back and managed a shrug.

"Perhaps it is the rum talking. Or perhaps I tire of this game we've been playing. We dance around one other, like two blind souls in the dark. But, if there was ever a time to end this stalemate, I think it's now."

In that moment, his fiery eyes burned with a courage he often lacked; it was now or never.

"My invitation still stands," he breathed, the passion in his words as good as any declaration of devotion, "If you will give me your first kiss... I will give you mine."

It was strange to watch it happen up close. But, within a few moments, the windows to Alabaster's soul were brimming with tears.

"I-I'm sorry," the tailor said, startling back to himself, "I shouldn't have-"

Strong hands caught his shoulders, before he could withdraw any further. The brilliant smile that replaced trembling lips was all Simon needed to reassure him.

"Yes. Yes, of course! Nothing would make me happier, I-"

Alabaster took in a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

"I'm rambling, aren't I, my dearest? What I mean to say is... I would be honored to be your first kiss."

Their forehead's touched once more, as they tenderly held each other's gaze.

"... As I will be honored that you will be mine."