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There was something like nervous energy in the air, very akin to the type a junkie might have experienced after going a decent amount of time without getting a fix. Jameson was pretty sure it wasn’t just him, but that was the beauty of getting high with other people. Sure, the drugs themselves were amazing, but so was knowing that the person you were sharing the experience with was as into the moment as you were. That type of substance was magical in that way. It could be the greatest barrier between a person and the entire rest of the world, or it could strip away everything and leave a person raw and exposed next to someone who knew what it was like to be lost in the euphoria.

It was like knocking on heaven’s door and then being ripped back down to earth later on. It was something that only another person with a near death experience could really understand. That was the power of the drugs, not just to feel good but to create unique memories. Level the playing field. A junkie was a junkie no matter what life they led before. For a man who had grown up with nothing but a shitty father and a shitfaced mother, that was like power.

There was beauty in the world two people could make together.

“Nah. Corpses smell terrible.” The look he shot the other man practically dared Robin to shine a negative light on Jameson’s scent. It was teasing, of course. “I think it’s different for some vampires than it is for others. Like I think that some are closer to death than others. Judas, Morama’s loverboy, looks a lot more like a corpse than I do, and he has a couple of zombies he keeps as…pets? I’m not sure, but yeah. Someone like him, he’s very close to death. Me? I think I’m too grounded in the physical world, and living, and human stuff to really, fully give myself over to the other side.” He shrugged as he worked, and a couple of seconds later, he had the blunt rolled. He leaned to pop the thing into the corner of a mouth before he reached for the lighter. There was this snick-sound as the flint and metal hit then a flame burst from the top.

“I don’t feel all that different from how I used to. I don’t have to eat, but I like to. I’m stronger and faster than I was. I can break into places and get out with so much ease that it’s freakin’ ridiculous. You know that ‘Hanged Man’ thief on the news? The one that always leaves behind a tarot card? That’s me. But shh; it’s a secret.” He continued even as he lit the end of the blunt until the paper and herb inside had burned to ash and it glowed a fiery red. He licked over his lips as the scent of it began to spread. He then slumped against Robin’s side, leaning into his body so that he didn’t drool like some kind of weirdo.

“Most of the time I just feel like I can take on the whole world. It feels like I can do anything.”

Jameson hadn’t realized that the other man didn’t know about the zombies, something that probably should have occurred to him given that he’d only just a few weeks before been totally oblivious to them as well save for a few rumours he’d picked up on the periphery. He hadn’t put much thought into them at the time because they had sounded like little more than urban legends. Zombies growing out of the ground inside of the area that had been quarantined off a few years back. His assumption was that there was really just some kind of major construction project going on there that would eventually be revealed once it was done. Like a new civic or city center.

Even when Robin questioned it, Jay wasn’t quite there. He had very nearly shoved the side of his head up against the other’s chest so that he could listen to that smoke fill lungs. He decided against it, but his eyes went a little distant at that first drag and then exhale, and he could have sworn he felt a tingle of something across the surface of his flesh. That was likely just some sort of phantom itch, he reasoned to himself, or anticipation taking root inside. Most people would not have known it looking at him, but Jameson could be absolutely pathetic when it came to drugs. That was just who he was. If someone had spilled them all over the ground, he would have been there, lapping at the dirt, hoping for a high.

He might have even done that a few times at parties in the past.

He wasn’t particularly proud of the effect they had on him, that deep hunger they brought out in his soul, but had absolutely no power over the way he responded. That was what 12 step programs taught. That people were essentially powerless to their cravings and addictions, that they had to give themselves over to some kind of higher power. Jameson was a vampire. If there was a higher power, it had turned its back on their world a long time ago. Maybe he had lost his faith and that was why he didn’t care about being clean anymore. Or maybe he just missed the feeling.

Either way, he grunted a soft answer before the words caught up with him. “Oh yeah, zombies are real. Like legitly real. Like if you go into the Quarantine Zone, you’ll see them wandering around like a really bad take on the Special Olympics. There are creature similar to those under the mausoleum, and other things out there that would probably take me a little while to explain to you. Maybe when we’re both high and I don’t sound like a crazy person.” He mused before his arms stretched up and over his head. There was still an ache where the bone had broken before, but it was more dull than anything, slowly fading as his vampiric body healed it.

He slumped then, his head turning enough for him to press his cheek against Robin’s, his hand slipping to cover the one holding onto the blunt. He licked over his lips, even as he felt that tingle again, and then there was this wave of euphoria that rolled through him and felt like it poured onto Robin’s flesh through those areas where they touched.

The other man was giggling, and that sound just made Jameson feel as light as a feather, like he was going to float up until he scraped against the ceiling and then slid along it away from the warm exhale of a vent. And then there was the repetition of that phrase to tell Jameson exactly what the other man found so funny. It seemed the herbal remedy was having its desired effect and the saliva in the vampire’s mouth only thickened at the thought. It was like this deeply physical, emotional, spiritual reaction to the thought of fleeing waking world and walking with stars and wonders. He didn’t immediately pounce the other man and sink his fangs in, which was, to his credit, a lot harder than one might have thought.

Delicate ragdoll of a human. He had to remember that.

Robin pulled away from him, and all but sank into his seat, which left the allurist with this gap between their bodies and it was intolerable for more than one reason. He had to remind himself that Robin didn’t swing his particular way. Had to remind himself that no matter how much he wanted to touch and taste, he could only go so far before he would cross a line and then it would all end. He valued what they had, the friendship and…whatever one wanted to call their relationship.

He moved to stand, going from seated to not in the blink of an eye, his body moving in a smooth motion so that when he turned to face Robin he could peer down over his features for a moment before he pushed arms open and then slumped into a lap, facing the other man. They connected right at the hip, but there was this distance between a set of abdomens that only grew wider as it approached their heads. There. Much better. The scent of smoke was stronger there. Right where the other man blew it out into the air, and it was this welcome thing that Jameson all but reveled in. He wondered idly if there would be that feeling of guilt afterwards.

Nah.

“There are animal zombies, yeah. Kinda. And then there are these great big things that are like a lot of corpses put together, and sometimes there are animal corpses in there too. I assume the city doesn’t know about them because of the government and vampires. I’m pretty sure the govies know about us and all the dead rising things. S’why the Quarantine exists, you know. To keep the dead things in.” His words had grown softer, as he watched the pule point on Robin’s neck. His throat worked as he swallowed and the leaned so that they were pressed flush and he could nudge a chin up to one side as if contemplating the feed.

But was it too soon?

“Yessss. We should go and explore. Just be careful and stick close to me when we do. I’ll show you things you won’t believe.” It was nearly a whisper, and he ached to sink his fangs in, but instead he nudged his lips to flesh, soft instead of sharp and painful. He just needed a few more seconds to be sure it was in the blood.

The other man shied away from him, though that was to be expected. There was intimacy there, in that narrow space between them, and most people did not understand sharing intimacy with someone they didn’t intend to bridge that gap with. To ****. It was almost ironic, because getting high was such a physical and mental thing, but Jameson wasn’t given to pleasures of the flesh in that way. Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy touch of the romantic variety, it just took him a long time to feel that way about someone. People could be pretty, attractive even, but he was drawn to something that could only be found beneath the flesh, something under the surface. Warmth, skin to skin contact, those things didn’t turn him on. Not really.

What that meant was that he didn’t mind sharing physical contact in a way that some people might have considered intrusive. He…was just comfortable, familiar.

He got a good look at Robin then, his head tipping to one side so that strands of golden hair could drag across his shoulder, before sliding opposite the direction of an upturned cheek. Light danced across those thin bands. Did he look a little gaunt? For a second, he was concerned, worried for the other man’s health, and it was a feeling that might flash through his mind at another time, but then the promise of drugs kicked in once more and his worry was this fleeting thing. Addicts said things to themselves when they wanted to justify what they were doing, what they did to other people. To himself, he said that Robin was still handsome, that he was still the man he had first met only a short time before, that he would be okay, and all that really mattered was that he knew he was cared for. Loved, for lack of a better word.

Jameson was immortal. He felt invincible most of the time, not mad, not danger hungry, but at the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t really die. Not really. So why should anyone else have had that worry?

It was time to feed.

There was reverence as he exhaled over the thrum of vein as it pulsed under skin. Yes, god of ecstasy and desire, of weak moments, of tiny pleasures, of the places in between, and fractured realities. Yes, my beautiful savior, I love you. I hear you. I crave you. His fangs extended and then he bit into the other man. He pulled him close. It was like a tender kiss, but their lips never touched. Ivories sank deep and blood filled his mouth. Slow. He took it slow, careful not to let it rush, because he needed to enjoy it, that slow spiral into oblivion. He could feel his own blood rushing in his veins, feel the need to suck more and more of that essence into himself. Restraint, he said to himself. Restraint.

But that was an illusion. Lips came away bloody. He hadn’t sealed the wounds on a neck yet, but they were shallow and not over an artery, so they were a slow trickle at best. His pupils dilated, and his throat worked in desperation. ****. ****. ****. Heaven.

There was still blood on his lips and his eyes were briefly blank. He checked out for a minute as relaxation, and life, and pleasure all rushed to the very core of his being as if they were racing each other. But from opposite sides of a field so that they all crashed right at the center. A shudder ran up his spine and he tipped his head back for a moment. His Adam’s Apple became more prominent and the length of his hair brushed against the top of his back as he looked up to the artificial light that radiated from somewhere on his ceiling. Why was it dancing like that? His hand reached up as if he were trying to capture it, but it kept darting just out of his reach.

That was when he noticed the untreated wound on Robin’s neck. The man seemed to have passed out, so he sealed it over and then decided to go and get a butterfly net from his bedroom so he could catch the photons that kept running away from him. Even with drugs that did not normally cause hallucinations, Jameson had a history of developing full auditory and visual fantasies when he was high. It was just something that went with the way his brain was wired. Some odd genetic switch.

By the time he got back, Robin had disappeared and he had been replaced by…it was Max. Jameson stood there with his shoulders squared off, his back going rod straight. It felt like someone had smashed a brick into his face, and he sniffed once. His butterfly net clunked on the ground as he looked at the other man for a full minute. Wine? Oh right. He had all sorts of wine. He had some spirits from Arbor Vitae, but he doubted Max would want that. Blood and all. “I’ll get it.” He said, but it was soft, breezy, and barely there. The words escaped from past his lips like fleeing dragonflies and fluttered away into the air before having a chance to reach Robin.

His hands shook when he was in the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of some cheap red wine. He didn’t have glasses for it. Why didn’t he have glasses for it? He turned standing right in the doorway of the kitchen was Max again. His throat worked, quivered, and he sucked in a tiny breath. “I missed you.” He said suddenly. And then… “How?” He didn’t feel like he could stand. Did it matter? Of course not. He took a step towards the only person he had ever loved, and pushed the wine into his hands, right over the center of his chest.