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Creature comforts were something that Adley Reed strived for. Different things were comfortable for different people; the things Adley liked wouldn’t necessarily be adopted by those he chose to bring into his small created family. And he told himself he was happy – which wasn’t wrong, per se, but nor was it completely right. Except that Adley didn’t have the ability to figure out what it was that was wrong; there was keening, a yearning deep down inside of him but it was foreign, like it had no place. Like grief that hadn’t been addressed and was sitting in a corner waiting to be acknowledged.

What happiness he did have he owed only to his four remaining progeny; three of them he didn’t see as much as he would have liked, but nor could he expect them all to spend as much time with him as Grayson did. They all had lives and jobs. As did Grayson. As did Adley. The huge bed in the bedroom not too far from where he and Grayson now lounged was intended for more than two bodies, but so often held only two bodies. And yet Adley would not complain. He would take what he could get for as long as it lasted.

Tonight he had the night off; he had no clients needing him, and his work for Mackenzie was in a rare lull. He’d found Grayson in the bath and had joined him without asking. A bath was generally a thing people did after long days at work, or they would bathe before going somewhere. He wasn’t sure he and Grayson had many plans for the night beyond this, but Adley was happy as a pig in mud to remain in the water until it grew cold.

He was in the middle of telling Grayson a story about a particularly needy and overbearing client when he was distracted by the voice in his head. He stopped mid-sentence, frowning.

”Aah,” he nodded, as if in response to Craven though he knew she couldn’t hear him. He’d had his car broken into before, but not stolen. Probably because it wasn’t worth anything.

”Craven’s having a bad night,” he said in explanation to Grayson, slapping the other male’s knee as he stood, water cascading from his limbs and over his back. ”Let’s go cheer her up,” he added, tapping at his temple to let Grayson know he’d got a telepathic message, unaware that Grayson had also been informed. Adley reached for the phone on the countertop after wiping his wet hands on the towel. He sent a text back to Craven.

• ”on our way. where r u?”

Work smart, not hard. Grayson had been exposed to this concept his entire life, not that he’d paid it much mind, so busy was he in his youth being engrossed in his own little world of pampered beauty. He had been so thoroughly thrown off when he’d lost the bloodline of silver and gold which flowed from his parents that he’d lost himself for a while. Now he was combining the work ethic he’d developed over the previous few years with the very concept he had been born into. His job was all about nebulous communication and management, about pulling together ideas and talent, and beauty into a single package. Wait Fable. The brand was exclusive to Harper Rock, and was slowly coming to life. He had already hired on a few seamstresses. Thus far, he was the only designer, which took up the most of his time - entered into contract with local vendors for crafts, textiles. He was drowning in supplies, and had been on the phone with an agent when Adley discovered him in the bath. He was looking to set up a base of operations to really get things humming along nicely.

He was considering the CW Galleria. Not only did the location seem to have the level of class he was looking for, but he knew the owner. Cliff Worthington was a mountain of a creature he’d met with Adley at one point, and the man had always been polite enough to greet him in passing whenever they crossed paths.

Of course, there was the question of ‘why’. Why create a new business in a city like Harper Rock? Why BUILD when there was so much being torn down? Grayson saw it a little bit like a flower growing in the cracks of a sidewalk. There was so much dreary and unforgiving cold grayness in the world. Especially in Harper Rock. What better service was there than to bring it life, and industry and beauty? It was his home. It had its own unique culture created by the undead who lived in it. By the criminals and by the monsters. Did he want that culture to die a slow and painful death or did he want to embrace it and coax and produce it until other people could see the same things he saw?

Vision. He had vision. Or a vision at the very least.

He’d hurriedly hung up when Adley joined him, because he didn’t like for anything to steal too much of his attention when his sire was there. He’d drawn his long legs back when the other man had entered the bath, which made his knees peak over the top of the water. There were just a few bubbles. Mostly the water was scented with potent but softly applied masculine scents like bergamot essential oil, Sicilian lemon and French lavender. There were hints of Amber Noir - which was its own fragrance - and the complexity of Madagascar vanilla. All of which was carefully anchored in Indonesian sandalwood and rich white musk. The layering was complicated, and the addition was light enough as to not be noxious, even to a vampire.

It paired well with the smell of sex.

And Grayson loved story time. He relished every opportunity to hear and learn more about Adley, and really the whole of their family. The moment was not interrupted, so much as augmented by the addition of Craven’s voice in his mind. Ahh. Family indeed. She was one of his ‘siblings’, and he very much wished he could see more of her throughout the night. He spent a potentially alarming amount of time around Adley (or perhaps a totally reasonable amount, considering some friends hung out for hours every day), or so he told himself. Though friendship was nowhere near deep enough to describe the bond there. And he wanted to experience some of that with Laken, Jericho and Craven as well. He wanted them to partake in his time without giving up their lives and passions and individuality. Maybe there were shared interests there. Maybe if there weren’t, just the experience of sharing time together was enough for him to revel in the bonding he craved.

Of course, Adley was quicker than he was. The other man moved to stand, and Grayson was immediately captivated. He might have sat there in the tub for another hour without even properly remembering Crave needed him. Or them, rather. But who might have blamed him? The necromancer was an image of complete perfection, and the way water moved in rivulets of his muscles was like artwork itself. The image brought him right back to a primal place, when men had been ensnared in their attention by the majesty of waterfalls, and the soft crackling of fire. He followed that water down with his gaze, drinking it all in with a hunger that would be deferred until later.

“We should get her a killdozer. I think this is the second car she’s lost recently.” He said, trying to recall if she’d mentioned it to him at all. Crime in Harper Rock had certainly gone up. Gray went most places either by foot or using Adley’s jeep. “But yes, let’s go put a smile on her face.” He said, his eyes, like sunlight streaming through perfect moonstone slipping shut. He sank under the water and when he rose, his hair lay wet against his scalp, darker than before, so that he had to push his fingers through the auric tangle.

He knew that Adley was responding to her via text - why else would he have gone with his phone?

“Send her a pick of my bum. That’s likely to cheer just about anyone up.” He said with a half formed grin, glancing over his shoulder to the other man, after he’d reached for a towel so he could begin to sop up the wetness on his flesh. To get the last few drops of water from his hair, he shook it out like a dog, which added volume, and gave it the impression of being a crest - which only added to his avian appearance (which was somewhat inescapable given his naturally lean legs). He didn’t seem to mind though, only bothering to once again run hsi digits through the downy soft hair to give it the semblance of order.

He began to pull together his clothing. When he’d been living by himself, he’d sort of not really cared about where his things were. He’d just tossed them wherever. Maybe he’d been depressed. “This look good?” he asked, and waited for an answer before tugging on black denim, which was distressed and torn in enough places to reveal some of that smooth alabaster flesh. Hints of what lay hidden. His shirt was plain and unremarkable. Frayed along the bottom hem so that it seemed as if he put almost no effort at all into his outfit. And yet anyone who paid close attention to the construction would recognize the back stitching which kept the garment from falling into pieces.

The accessories were numerous. Silver watch, silver chains on his neck. Silver rings on three of five digits on either hand. He had beads and string. Things which either caught or muted the light in their own ways, to draw the eye. He was a magpie. Shiny things lived on him and in his nest. When he was clothed, he moved across the room to press against the other man’s back briefly. There had been casual brushes and touches while they were garbed, but he consumed that physical contact as if it were psychic sustenance. Only to pull away with a brief drag of his lips against the nape of a neck on his way to the jeep. His phone was pocketed. He didn’t bother with a weapon, which was perhaps foolishness. And when he finally dropped into the passenger seat, he drew his phone free to move his thumbs across the screen.

• be there soon luv, text adders the address

It was while they were getting dressed that Adley did, indeed, snag a photo of Grayson’s bum. It might have been suggested in jest, but Adley often took jests seriously—in a good way. Of course, Adley being Adley, it wasn’t a crude bum shot He’d waited for the right moment, for Grayson to be half bent over as he reached to pull his pants up. Something so simple and yet the pose was classic. And with phones these days it was so simple to add a couple of filters rather than fiddling in the red room and playing with exposure to get everything to look right. Adley simultaneously loathed and loved the technology. He was a traditionalist at heart when it came to photography and he scoffed at those who claimed to be ‘professionals’ while only using their phones. But he also scrambled to embrace anything that was new and innovative. So he used the filters, despite their cumbrance on his job.

Adley, too, was pulling on shining things when he felt Grayson’s arms around him, lips dragging across the back of his neck. These exchanges were common between the two men who, in looks, were so very different and yet in so many ways similar. Grayson’s hair was styled in a messy way, though it was obviously intentional and didn’t look as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Adley’s had grown and would be an unwieldy, uncontrollable cloud had he not pulled it back into a neat bun at the back of his head. The weather outside was warm, so no coats were required to finish off his ensemble – only the necklaces he’d draped around his neck and the few rings he’d slipped onto his fingers.

The tattersall pants were buttoned at slim hips over the top of a plain black t-shirt; an outfit that would have suited a jacket of some description but would, tonight, go without. Stylish sneakers were pulled onto his feet and it was only after they were seated in the jeep that Adley sent the stylish, classic bum pic to Craven, who’d informed him that she was at the park near work. He hadn’t told Grayson. Grayson was unaware. Grayson would not care. Adley knew this. He dropped his phone into the centre console and turned the key in the ignition.

Taking backroads and shortcuts and driving only a little over the speed limit, the boys would arrive in no less than ten minutes.

They were dressed and they were going. They were in the car, moving across the city at what felt like breakneck acceleration to the contented Grayson. His mind was still back in that single moment when his lips had pressed against his sire’s flesh, and he had slowly dragged the scent of the other man into himself in passing. The good thing about being a vampire was that Grayson didn’t need to exhale. He could hold part of his sire in his chest for as long as he wanted, until he was certain the very weight of it had dispersed and there was nothing left in his lungs but unneeded oxygen. He looked pleased, in that way he usually did when he was around Adley, like he’d just deeply inhaled some sort of illicit substance and was riding through a satisfying and euphoric high. “We should really consider chipping in together to get her something.” He finally said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “You know, like a car boot only she has the key to. LoJack maybe.” He considered the options out loud.

And then they arrived at the park and the moment the vehicle stopped, Grayson poured out of it so that he could cast a grin in Aurora’s direction. Not that he expected her to see it given the lack of abundant lighting and distance. “We have found her.” He whispered before letting the door slide shut behind him as he shattered the distance between himself and his sibling at a casual but determined pace. The moment he arrived he dropped to be seated beside her, his arm sliding across the back of the bench to curl around her shoulders and tug her close to his side. He could almost feel the waves of frustration rolling off of her, the annoyance at having her car stolen and her vexation was a brand at the center of his chest which made him want to find the person to have caused her such negative feelings so he could make the situation right.

“Come now, you’re too beautiful to be so unhappy with the world.” He insisted as he pressed a kiss to her temple, seeking to offer up a little bit of warmth and affection to soften the blow that the theft of her car had become. “Adley, you, and me. We’ll go and we’ll find your car yes? Though I can’t imagine it’s in decent shape at this point. Probably halfway through a chop shop being dismantled for parts.” He thought out loud. He was just supremely pleased to be so close to his family. In fact, it was like there was this weird anxiety which gnawed at him whenever he wasn’t close to someone in his bloodline. Most often, this was Adley, because Grayson had a knack for finding him whenever he wanted him. It was a sixth sense maybe. Or perhaps Gray was just good at finding things. Either way, he was never quite himself unless he had one of the Reed in close proximity, and he was absolutely not at all truly comfortable unless they were touching in some way, or talking or sharing an experience.

“So instead we can find you a new one to enjoy? Maybe something new and clean, that goes fast and has fun gadgets to play with? Or something old and beat up so that thieves are less inclined to make an effort? Or we could even find the thief who stole it and took his or her car as a fair and equal trade.” Mostly, he was just trying to get her to smile. He knew the rapidfire ideas were a little silly and a little out of place. But that was the point. The first and most important part of the whole interaction was to lighten Aurora’s spirits.