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By Lori T. Strongin
This is an original work, please do not steal. Julian Grey was caught among the urges to laugh, to bang his head repeatedly against the dining room table, or to fling something at his thick-headed roommate. “You can not be serious.” “'Why not?” whined the tawny haired man sitting opposite him, “I can do it. You’ve got all the tools I’ll need in the shed. And I've got the DIY book that Brenin lent me.” “DIY: Destroy It Yourself,” muttered Julian. “Oh, cut it out. That joke is getting really old.” “Talbot, you must admit that your record in the home-improvement department is not flawless. Do you remember the time you tried to fix the frame on the hallway mirror? I nearly had to douse you with wolfsbane to sedate you until I found a way to unglue your head.” “Well, it’s not like you were going to help me with that mirror.” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the inevitable headache approaching. “Need I remind you why I avoid mirrors, Wolf Boy?” Talbot grinned, his pronounced canines flashing under the shine of the harsh fluorescent lighting. “Shut up, you great black bat.” “I am a vampire, not a bat,” Julian huffed. “But you are trying to change the subject. How about the first time you wired up a plug?” Julian held back a smirk as he saw his roommate’s fingers begin to fidget in an all-too-familiar manner. “It was only a small fire...” “And don't even get me started on the wallpapering job you did in the sitting room.” “Will you stop going on about that? How was I supposed to know that it was the self-sticking kind?” “Alright, granted…that was a new one on you. But you can understand my concern when it comes to the combination of you and power tools. I'd quite like to make it to the end of the day with all my fingers still attached, that's all.” “I know,” admitted Talbot, still fidgeting under Julian’s steady stare. “But you don't need to worry. I'm used to all this machinery now. I used the drill to put the pictures up didn't I? No, don't wince like that! I know where the electric cables in the walls are now. I'll be careful. I promise.” “How do you know how to install wall shelves anyway?” “I’m a werewolf. It’s my job to know.” Julian looked doubtful. “I’ve been wondering lately if there was ever a time in your life when you weren’t so incredibly annoying.” Talbot grinned broadly, reminding Julian of some monkeys he had once seen in a zoo before he’d been Turned. “Not likely.” Julian sighed in defeat. “For the sake of whatever is left of the sanity I may have had before I let you move in here, please don’t do anything stupid.”
* * *
After an interesting afternoon of listening to his lycanthropic roommate curse at the inherent unevenness of a straight rule, Julian calmly drank his Bloody Mary and waited for his roommate to finish his attempt at building the set of shelves. “There,” he exclaimed, panting as the sweat beads rolled off his pale shoulders. “Shelves. Happy now? I told you I could do it.” Without a word, Julian smoothly rose from the leather armchair, his black waistcoat flapping behind him like giant wings as he swiftly crossed the spacious room, and set his half-empty glass upon the wooden shelf. No sooner had he released his hand than the glass slid downwards at an angle and crashed, blooming into a rather unusual shape upon the formerly white carpet below. A single eyebrow raised, Julian turned and left the room to the accompaniment of Talbot taking out his frustration on an innocent two-by-four. * * *
Eight hours later and still shelf-less, the two roommates sat at the dinner table, one heartily enjoying his extra-rare steak, and the other savoring an enticing plate of steamed vegetables and spiced noodles while absently stirring his blood-red beverage. “Want a bite?” Talbot offered, holding out a dripping piece of meat from his knife. “You know I don’t eat meat.” “Yet, you drink blood.” “There is a difference.” “Right,” Talbot drawled, inhaling another piece of the porterhouse. “So,” he began again after several short moments of silence, “Today went well, don’t you think?” Julian couldn’t help the path his eyes followed as he took in the many bandages covering the werewolf’s hairy fingers and forearms. “We have three holes in the wall in the other room, and there’s sawdust all over my Persian rug. How do you classify that as ‘went well?’” “I call it a…learning experience,” Talbot said, a lopsided grin crossing his angular face. “Lighten up. It’ll be finished and cleaned up by morning. You worry too much.” “With you performing random acts of destruction to my clan’s ancestral home, I think I worry the proper amount.” Julian took another spoonful of food before pointing his pewter fork accusingly at the young man sitting opposite, envisioning spearing his overly-optimistic roommate on the tines. “Do you know what your problem is? You have PLS.” Talbot raised a bandaged eyebrow. “PLS?” “One of my newest inventions. Pre-Lunar Syndrome. You get it three days before and three days after the full moon. It perfectly describes how you get so easily annoyed and frustrated over the tiniest things one minute, and then you’re happily barking away the next.” Talbot chuckled. “PLS, huh? Well, that’s one way of describing my ‘furry little problem.’” “Indeed,” the dark haired man said, viciously stabbing a wayward piece of broccoli from the corner of his plate with one hand while fixedly stirring his cocktail with the other. Talbot lifted a spice shaker over his dinner and generously sprinkled the white powder over everything on his plate before offering the grinder to Julian. “Garlic salt?” Now it was Julian’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “I’d ask if you had sunstroke, but I think we both know the answer to that question.” Talbot shrugged and took a wolfish bite of his dinner, so rare it was nearly still mooing. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow night?” he asked, mouth full of food. “Tomorrow?” “Yes, tomorrow. You know, the day after today but before the day after. The night of the full moon. Are you coming out with me?” “Let me think; spend my night curled up with a good book and a Bloodhound Cocktail after working a full day at the precinct, or traipse around God-knows-where with you howling incessantly at the moon and trying to use me as one of your chew toys? Tough choice.” “Oh, come on,” Talbot pleaded, trying (and failing, in Julian’s opinion) to produce convincing puppy dog eyes. “You work too hard.” “Too hard?” Julian asked, sarcasm lacing his words. “As opposed to the strenuous occupational activities you perform?” “Hey, it’s not easy being a Seeing Eye dog! I nearly get run over daily at crosswalks or get pummeled by kids wanting to play catch. And it really is degrading having to go on hydrants all over the city.” Julian shuddered at the mental image Talbot provoked. “I imagine.” “Besides, you know you have fun when we prowl. And when’s the last time you let your Inner Bat loose?” Julian took a sip of his drink, grimaced at the bitter flavor, and continued to stir. “Probably the last time you had a flea dip.” “Ha ha. Go take a sunbath why don’t you.” The glass swizzle stick pealed inharmoniously against the side of Julian’s goblet under the assault of his strokes. “Oh, go neuter yourself.” Julian looked away from his ministrations on his drink just in time to see the blue vein on his roommate’s forehead begin to tic. “Would you stop being so pedantic about stirring your bloody drink and just…just drink it?” the werewolf sputtered, obviously at a loss for a scathing retort. “You’re just grouchy because you were sitting alone in the kitchen this morning instead of ogling the random strangers you normally bring home.” “As opposed to your bed hair, askew glasses, and ridiculous smile at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, hmm?” Talbot asked, a wry smile escaping his lips. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind the ogling last month when I invited those siren twins over for dinner, now did you?” “Touché.” Talbot rose from the table and brought his empty dishes to the sink, humming (and butchering) a familiar tune above the din of colliding china and running water. Julian leaned back in his chair, attempting to salvage some taste from his ruined drink, and tried, unsuccessfully, to drown out the noise coming from the werewolf in the kitchen. It took all of three minutes before any semblance of patience within the vampire had been purged. He stood, all sense of propriety and well-breeding forgotten as he stormed into the small room, stalked to the sink, grabbed the extension hose from the faucet assembly, and proceeded to soak the lycanthrope. “What the hell are you doing?” Talbot sputtered angrily, wiping beads of water from his brown eyes. Julian calmly returned the sprayer to its setting before turning away and taking a seat in his favorite leather recliner. Once again focusing on his beverage, he genially addressed his roommate’s question. “First of all, you are completely tone deaf and should never be allowed anywhere near anything musical. Ever again.” He took a hesitant sip of the cocktail, and nodded as he finally approved of its flavor. “Secondly, it is entirely inappropriate for you, of all creatures, to be singing ‘Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.’” Fin |