It was an anniversary. Normally Worth hated those sorts of things. They just reminded him of how many more aches he had in the morning, how much older and harder everyone had been forced to become. But sometimes he liked them. He liked this one. It might be his favorite one, really. This one was full of noise and chaos and more poisonous things to infect his body than he could shake a stick at.
If there was one thing he'd been happy to learn, it was that the things that go bump in the night really know how to party.
Everyone and everything that could be blitzed currently either was or was in the process of getting there. Worth was, frustratingly enough, still a drunk in progress. Hanna was dancing on a table a few rows down. The kid didn't have to be plastered to do it, but it sure helped. His zombie wind-up toy was standing, hands floating in the air, gloved fingertips ghosting across the back of Hanna's worn, striped shirt, ready to make full contact should the red head's sense of balance give way. Green bloke always had this odd air to him when Hanna actually let loose and had some fun. There was an extra level of concern, and then he just sat around with Hanna's head in his lap while the ginger kid lip wibbled his way through his hangover. They fucking cuddled at night half the time, anyway, so he supposed it wasn't that odd, but perhaps it was the lack of tension between the two that got to him. They touched, laughed, were inseparable, but had no tension, some perfect combination of Storge and Banquet making them the closest and strongest set of life partners he would ever know.
It was stupid, but he sometimes wished for that. Wished he wasn't still caught in the whirlwind where Eros and Mania met. He missed the days of Ludus, when he legitimately was satisfied with jerking off and fucking with people's heads. Christ things had been simpler three years ago.
A large hairy thing came over to him, deposited a chipped stein overflowing with and effervescent liquid in front of him with a nod. Free fairy wine. Perk of saving humanity even if he'd just been along for the ride. Different sort of hangover with the fae brews than human derived ones. Less feeling like death warmed over and more random hallucinations. Win-win as far as Worth was concerned. He tilted his head back and took a drink. Still tasted like whatever unicorn fart pictures Conrad probably doodled on his high school Chemistry book, but fuck if it wouldn't drop a man like a sledgehammer.
Thinking on Conrad, he looked up bitterly, spotting the vampire exactly where he'd last seen him, sitting at a table by himself, watching the performing group on stage. Wasn't that bad of an act, Worth supposed, he liked seeing flexibility demonstrated as much as the next guy, but it was all a little too cirque du fag-ei for his tastes. No wonder homo erectus was lapping it up. He was a few sheets to the wind, too, far drunker than Worth was yet, and the doctor downed half his mug, scowling at nothing in particular. He might throw his glass at the performers when he was done and see how interesting things got then.
The corner of his eye caught movement. Fluid, confident, like lava rolling down a hillside, engulfing and burning everything it touched. He knew that movement. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand he turned his head and watched the creature gliding her way over to his table. "Well. Fancy seein' you again."
She smiled, close lipped and indulgent, trailing an ice cold and perfectly filed fingernail down his arm before leaning down and wrapping her arms about his neck. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Seem ta remember ya makin' me an' offer I couldn't refuse 'bout a year or so back."
The nails of both hands flexed and scratched teasingly over his chest as she purred. "An offer that you did, in fact, refuse."
"Weren't my fault." He jabbed a thumb in Hanna's general table dancing direction. "Blame th' junior super hero."
"I do and I will. But I have more important things going on right now." Worth noticed her nails were losing their edge, becoming blunter, rounder. The fullness of breasts squished against his back seemed to be hardening.
"Seems like yer ready ta feed right now," Worth murmured, confused by his lack of lightheadedness. He didn't expect to be drunk yet, certainly, but he knew how heavily the pheromones of a succubus could hit a man. But they weren't hitting him, even as her body was changing, taking on the form of what he most greatly desired. Only, he realized, looking more closely at how long her fingers were becoming, she wasn't. Of course, she and he and succubus and incubus were really just human notions. They weren't male or female or a mix of both or even human-like. They simply were what was most desired by that which they had targeted. He grunted and reached for his drink. "But I take it I ain't gonna be dinner."
"No," her voice had dropped, he could feel it rumbling from her chest now instead if lilting from her throat, "sorry. I haven't had a real feed in quite some time and, if we're being honest here? You'd be a good snack given how strung out you are, but the vampire, ah, he's a full seven course meal."
The doctor sat very still in his chair even as she ran her fingers through his hair and bit at his jaw, skin pinching between her overly sharp teeth. "Yer fuckin' kiddin' me."
"Nope. Come on now. I told you when I met you that I was after him."
"Yeah, 'n' I laughed ya right outta th' bar. Tol' ya he's a faggot. Seen 'nough women thinkin' he's Twilight come again hittin' on him. Can't blame 'em. They're mistakin' th' pride parade glitter fer sparklin'. They all got turned down soon's he figured out what they were after. Hell, half th' time he ran screamin' fer th' hills. " He was staring at Conrad, clapping ivory hands together along with the others watching Miss Flexible-Six-Arms as she did her little acrobatic act. His own heart rate was picking up, he could feel it, he just wasn't sure what was prompting it yet.
"You did, it's true. Then we went into the alley and I showed you my little trick. You were quite a bit more interested in me at that point."
"Ya were squirtin' pheromones up my nose." It wasn't quite fear, no, he wasn't afraid for himself and he wasn't really afraid for Conrad. He was feeling adrenaline from something else.
"And you put it so delicately." She was pulling back, once fine, soft hands now solid, long, a little knobby, sliding up his arms and resting on his shoulders. A lightly calloused thumb rubbed over the nape of his neck. "I've been watching him and you and others here. I have him better figured out now, I think."
"If ya really think he's gonna fuck ya, then ya ain't got 'im figured out at all." The fairy booze slithered down his throat, settled dully in his stomach.
"Well, wish me luck. Haven't had a virgin in ages." His hair was yanked, a sharp motion going straight to his crotch and he scowled as he watched the succubus's now tall, lean form slinking up and over to Conrad's table. She sat down, joining the artist who kept giving her glances, looking confused and irritated at first. Worth's mug was refilled by an owl faced woman and he downed it without looking. It was suddenly too loud, making it impossible for him to hear the conversation that was becoming more animated and relaxed at the table of short blonde-haired succubus and shaggy black haired vampire. It was pheromones and Conrad being drunk. It was conversation. It wasn't anything that should be making his mouth so dry or his heart sputter in his chest. But pheromones didn't work as well on the undead. Vampires didn't breathe, so Conrad would only be under their effects if he was intentionally breathing, intentionally smelling her smell as a hand with slightly bruised knuckles reached over to brush a stray chunk of hair from Conrad's forehead.
He would notice the eyes, Worth reasoned to himself, fingers twitching as hands patted his pockets for cigarettes. The minute he saw the eyes he would jump back, probably fall right out of his seat onto his ass and then Worth could ask if he needed more ballet lessons and haul him off. Maybe the movements would set him off, too fluid, lacking in the solid restraint of bone and cartilage. But even as Worth worked diligently on his cigarette, Conrad seemed oblivious to the eyes and the swimming grace of the succubus' movements. She had moved her chair closer and Conrad was leaning in, his eyes were dopey, Worth could tell even from the distance. The moment their mouths met he sucked on his cigarette hard enough to pull the fire directly onto his chapped lips.
Swearing he spit it out and stood, standing dumbly in place. Conrad was sucking face. No doubt about that, but what the fuck could he do about it? Go over and rescue him? He was actually into it as far as Worth could tell, and even if he wasn't, what the fuck? White knight rescuing the damsel in distress? Not really his style. He glared with everything in himself, realizing that the adrenaline and pulse rate had been because he was readying himself for a fight. He just hadn't realized what type of a fight it was, and now he was standing like an idiot glaring and not able to do a goddamned thing about it. What he wouldn't give for a distraction right then and there.
There was a crash to his right and several gasps and even more laughs. His seething face whipped over and spotted the zombie carrying a bloody faced ginger over to him. What do you know? Hanna saves the day again in a spectacular showing of failure and lack of self-preservation.
Worth didn't hesitate, immediately stomping over to Conrad who currently had a succubus in his lap and hands up his shirt. "Christ ya get real damn slutty when yer drunk. C'mon, we're goin'." Gripping Conrad's bicep he pulled hard, causing the chair's legs to scrape across the floor and the kiss to be dislodged.
"Wh...What?" The vampire's eyes were hazy, distant, pupils turning his eyes into a burned-out sun. He was in deep.
Worth inhaled deeply through his nose and felt nothing in his loins, but instantly craved another cigarette as his senses were overpowered by the heavy scent of smoke. "We're leavin'. Hanna hurt 'imself. Cantcha smell th' blood?" He should. Hanna's blood reeked. If anything could overwhelm whatever pheromones the succubus was pumping out, it had to be Hanna's blood.
Conrad blinked several times. The cigarette smoke stench increased to the point where Worth fanned his face in irritation. He pulled the dead guy closer, ignoring the succubus' glare. He'd probably just ruined any chances he had of fucking her. Story of his damn life.
With Hanna closer, the vampire's eyes widened, pupils sharpened, the haze lifted. "Ugh, Jesus." He reached up to pinch his nose, then started, coming back to himself, realizing that he had someone on his lap. Swallowing, he smiled nervously. "S-sorry! Um...I have to, uh, I don't usually do this sort of thing and I'm a bit over my head here and, ah, it was nice to meet you but er-"
"Right whatever. C'mon." Worth yanked again and dislodged the succubus from her seat on Conrad's lap. She stood on long legs watching Worth, body shrinking as Conrad stood and turned away. Her hair darkened. A single fang poked over her lip and Worth was hit with the sudden scent of nothingness tinged with motor oil. Violently he shook his head and focused on dragging Conrad off and out the door. He had an idiot to sew up and another to keep from throwing himself in bed while under the effects of demonic rohypnol.
XXXXX
"Ow...Ow...Owwwwwwwww!"
"Quit yer bitchin'," the doctor snapped, palpating the sore skin around the cut on Hanna's forehead. "Swear I'm th' only one who kin hold his damn liquor." Dabbing at the still gently weeping wound, concealed by the shadows of his own fingers, he frowned. "I know faggots are inta ambiance an' moodlightin', but do ya mind holdin' th' flashlight a li'l less like a limp wristed sissy fer five goddamned minutes?"
"Fuck off. I'm holding it fine. If you'd stop putting your hands in the way, maybe this would be faster." Almost as an afterthought he added, "And I've had about enough of you calling me a faggot."
"Christ. Right. Like ya weren't halfway ta heaven with a bloke in yer lap less 'n' ten minutes ago."
"I...I don't..."
"A succubus isn't really a dude. Or a girl. Kind of both but if you really look at their-ow!"
"Hold still." He squinted, poking again a few times before glaring at Conrad and snatching the flashlight from him. "Yer an awful assistant."
"I'm not your assistant," he heard Conrad bark out in clipped tones, "and you're not even a doctor."
"Well ain't that jus' th' kinna thanks I'd be expectin'. Yer welcome."
"Wh-what? What the fuck would I be thanking you for?"
"Fer me keepin' yer honor intact, princess." He spared a sidelong, condescending glance at the vampire before returning to examining Hanna's head-meeting-overhead-lamp wound. "Hate fer ya ta sully yer pristine self in a drunk one night stand. 'specially in public."
"I...I don't know what you're talking about. I...I was drunk and...behaving in a manner I don't usually engage in, but that has nothing to do with my honor."
"Uh huh. Jus' figured if ya made it ta thirty, might as well keep that cherry from gettin' popped fer a bit longer. Gotta make sure it's with someone real special, right? True fuckin' love? That it? 'nless yer bored a' th' virginity thing now 'n' jus' wanna get somethin' shoved in ya."
Conrad didn't reply, not with words or fists, or the teeth Worth always wondered about. Instead he walked out of the camper, slamming the abused side door hard enough that it bounced back open and wiggled on its hinges.
"Dude. That was mean. Like. Not cool levels of mean."
"Fuck off."
Hanna was giving him a look. He didn't care. He really didn't. His stomach was knotted and wringing from the alcohol still slushing its way through his system.
"Hey, Carl? Can you go walk with Connie? Keep him from punching something and knocking it down?"
Worth felt orange eyes on him for a moment. "If you feel that is for the best."
"Yeah, it's-" he paused and Worth looked up, catching an expression on Hanna's face that had him backing up and out of range of impending vomit. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it wound up just being a belch. "Ugh, sorry. It's cool. Big help. Super appreciated times infinity with sprinkles on top."
"Alright, Hanna."
The zombie left. Worth never heard him leave, no footsteps, just the quiet click of the door latch sliding into place.
"Okay, what the hell, bro?"
He grunted, pressing a bandage to Hanna's forehead, securing it carefully with tape. "Quit dancin' on tables like a goddamned sixteen year old at her first kegger. Gettin' tired a patchin-"
"No, knock it off. What the hell was that about?"
They glared, staring, willing the other to back down first. Hanna pulled another pre-vomit face, but groaned around a second belch instead. Worth's nose wrinkled, lines by his eyes tightening and he turned away, stuffing medical tools back in his worn, patched bag. "Whatever. Ya were too busy bein' shitfaced ta see 'im. Makin' a fuckin' fool a himself."
"Right, 'cause you totally hate when Con-man makes a fool of himself. You don't live to remind him every time he does something embarrassing."
"'s different'. Practically fuckin' her right there."
"Uh...okay they were mackin' pretty hard, trying to lick internal organs or something, but-"
The bag was thrown, discarded, exiled from Worth's hands onto the bed in the back area. He fumbled for a cigarette, lighting it and getting hit with a wave of olfactory memory like a mule kick to the head. "Fuck. Don't even wannit. Here," he handed the cigarette to Hanna who took it and inhaled slowly.
"You know," he said softly, in a voice that should be too old and world weary for a face so young, "maybe if you tried being nice to him? Flowers? Compliments?"
Something cracked in Worth's neck as he whipped his head around, arms crossed over his chest. Hanna was calm, looking at the handwrapped cigarette between his fingers, smoke trickling from his lips. A sleeping dragon if there ever was one. Worth finally shook his head and stared at the burned-out ceiling light, deflating like a post-parade balloon. "Fuckin' Christ. How long ya known?"
"Uh, for serious? Like, a long ass time, man. Well, suspected before the world went to hell, but it didn't take long once we started riding around in Greased Lightning before it was kind of ridic. I mean, dude, were you actually trying to hide it?" Hanna snickered, then coughed as smoke slipped its way into his nostrils, reminding Worth that Hanna really was inebriated. "Oh man. Wonder if you could blow smoke rings through your nose. That'd be awesome."
The flashlight tapped against Worth's wiry arm as he considered his options. "So, wot? Yer tellin' me ta take 'im out fer a picnic lunch under th' stars?"
"I dunno. Might be cool."
"Ain't happenin'."
"Okay, well, no, 'cause you're you but like, the idea is sound. It's a good starting place. Just...pretend you're a normal human being and do something nice for him. Then do more nice things."
"Right. I oughta take sex advice from you."
"Dude, quit being a dick. You know what your problem is?" Cigarette finished, he stood, too quickly, and Worth found himself catching the red head by his armpits, pulling him over to the bench that had become his defacto bed over the years.
"Gotta lotta problems, Hanna. Gonna have ta be real specific."
"Yeah." The younger man nuzzled his way into the mess of blankets, gripping Worth's wrist, forcing the doctor to sigh and reluctantly sit next to him. "This is nicer with Carl. Where's Carl?"
"Out keepin' an' eye on Fagarella."
"See, that? Don't do that."
"Keep an' eye on 'im?"
"No. Call him names."
"Don't think it's possible ta refrain." It was true. Half the time he didn't remember Conrad's name. He prided himself on still managing to come up with new material from time to time.
"Okay well like, try Connie then. He doesn't mind that one so much. And," there was a pause, Hanna burying himself a little deeper on his back, "um...yeah. What were we talking about?"
"Roll on yer stomach. If ya puke 'n' choke ta death on it, ain't gonna be on my conscious."
"Don't like on my stomach. Oh! That, yeah, sex with Conrad," a sensation much like finding your parents' homemade porno tape washed over Worth, "So like, yeah. Maybe get him wine and chocolates?"
Worth rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Hanna. He don't even eat."
"Thought that counts."
"Where would I even find that shit?"
"I dunno. Places? Write him a poem. Roses are red, my balls are blue. I wanna do it, how about you?"
"Fuckin' go ta sleep b'fore I knock yer drunk ass out."
"Psh. I'm not drunk," face planted in the blankets, Hanna's voice was muffled. "You're drunk."
"Nowhere near enough fer this conversation."
"Just be nice to him, okay? He's always had your back, always trusted you. Sleeps with you all the time. Gotta be something there, right?"
Worth replied the most eloquent way possible, grunting and standing, held in place by Hanna's hand still gripping his wrist. "Yer head's gonna hurt in th' mornin'. Oughta be some runes in a drawer somewhere. Christ, don't even know why I'm botherin'. Mossy'll be takin' care a ya soon's he comes back with th' fag."
"Connie," faceplant Hanna corrected, "when he comes back with Connie."
"Same thing."
Sighing, Hanna pushed Worth's wrist. "You are terrible at getting laid, dude."
"Goin' ta bed. If ya puke, yer cleanin' it up." He rifled through a few drawers, setting out runes he recognized as pain relieving before removing his rumpled bag from the lumpy RV bed and lying down.
XXXXX
Worth had slept eventually, after Conrad had returned to the camper and laid down, back stiff, body turned away from Worth. That was fine. He was there and with dawn they slept on opposite ends of the bed. When they woke, neither spoke to the other, and Conrad had wasted no time leaving the RV.
The joke was on Conrad. It didn't matter how much he wanted to try and avoid Worth, he was part of Hanna's delegation. The things that go bump in the night didn't just like partying, they also liked pomp and circumstance and sitting around reworking subtleties in magically binding contracts. Boring ass shit, but it meant that each representative group sat together. It meant that there was a table with four names on it. It meant that Worth's foot kept bumping against Conrad's. It was only intentional about half of the time.
It was day three celebrating the anniversary of the treaty. Numbers had meanings to the spirit crowd. There was a reason they met at 777 Dormier Street and not 776 or 438. Sevens were important and threes were holy. As such they were wasting time on the third of the Seven Days of Treaty-mas by prattling on about the way the treaty had come to be; a bunch of fancy things with weird eyes sitting around sharing war stories. Hanna didn't much like bragging about himself, so the other Moonlight races had taken it upon themselves to pump up the tales of heroics. The current version of events had Hanna sitting in the oak tree by 778 Dormier sending his three champions (goddamn them and the number three) out into battle. His faithful personal protector, a man so devoted he had risen from the dead to care for Hanna (the fact that he had not met Hanna until after being a zombie for a decade did not seem to matter in the telling of the tale). A man so driven you could see the very fire of his soul burning through his eyes.
Hanna had said that was just part of the voodoo; bits of magic reacting with herbs and the various chemicals used in embalming creating a phosphorescent reaction. A science fair lightning bug. Yeah, the nightwalkers were doing a more entertaining job, though Worth appreciated knowing more of the science behind it even if he wasn't sure where magic fit in with the periodic table.
And then the human and the vampire. The day and the night. Joined together in battle, a physical manifestation of the balance needed by the world. Whirling, spinning, reaving their way through their foes, showing what could be accomplished when opposites joined and moved together as one being.
"Beast with two backs," Worth mumbled.
"You wish," Hanna croaked back, nursing a Virgin Mary.
The zombie smoothed a pale green hand over Hanna's curls, and the red head gave him a pitiful smile in return. Maybe the idiot wouldn't drink as much tonight. Whatshisname would probably watch his intake well enough to prevent another head splitting dance at least. On his right, Conrad was staring blankly ahead, hands rubbing against his arms.
"Cold?"
Not turning his head, Conrad's eyes flicked over, regarding him briefly, and then rose to look above and to the side, shoulders squaring slightly.
"Ain't talkin' ta me then?"
Silence. Well, there was his answer. He waited, fingers drumming on the table absently while the speakers now moved on to Hanna using his fighters as a diversion so he could call forth the scorching heat of sun and humanity down on the wraiths. Conrad was still rubbing his arms. Exhaling through his nose, Worth leaned forward and shrugged out of his duster, lifting it and draping it over Conrad's shoulders.
The vampire jerked like he'd been struck and stared at the fabric, hissing. "What the fuck?"
"Yer cold. So," he hesitated, awkwardness settling through his bones, cutting off words.
"I don't need your coat or your help." Conrad picked up the coat and tossed it back at Worth.
"Oi, th' fuck ya don't. Jus' take th' damn thing." He attempted to put it back around Conrad's shoulders.
"No! Piss off!"
"I'm tryin' here, Connie. Quit bein' a bitch. Yer cold. I'm hot. I'm givin' ya somethin' ta warm ya up!"
"I don't want you to give me anything to warm me up!"
"Guys?"
They stopped in the middle of trenchcoat hot potato to see the entire assembly had stopped talking to watch their exchange. Hanna's forehead fell to the table with a dull thud, followed by a tiny "Owww." Conrad pushed his glasses up, pinching his nose. Worth spotted the succubus leaning against the wall, smiling. He cleared his throat and draped the coat around Conrad's shoulders before pulling out a cigarette. Conrad curled into the duster, mortified into silent compliance.
XXXXX
When the talks turned from more recent history to centuries old conflicts, the official meeting was unofficially disbanded. Food and beverage (sometimes one in the same) were doled out to tables. Hanna chewed on his celery stick while the zombie asked a passing waiter for a refill and toasted bread. Worth picked his way through the offerings on their table, finally finding, with some surprise, deep fried and breaded pickles. The Moon races were learning. Last time they'd attempted "waffle fries" on Hanna's request they had received breaded and fried pancakes, and that was only because Hanna had requested "French fries" and a long conversation about how that wasn't actually cannibalism had commenced. The pancakes hadn't been too bad, though. Little greasy, but it was bar food. It was supposed to be greasy.
Fried pickle halfway to his mouth, Worth received a face full of coat.
"Here. Take this. I don't want it."
He freed himself from it and chewed the pickle. Not bad. Could use salt, but he wasn't too surprised it was lacking, considering the risks of cross contamination. Half the creatures in the room would shrivel up like a slug. "Ya seemed ta like it well 'nough. Tucked yerself in good 'n' tight."
"I was avoiding the looks and no, I didn't like it and no, I'm still not talking to you." Conrad sniffed at his dress shirt sleeve, making a noise of disgust. "Fucking fantastic. This is what I was afraid of."
"'n' what's that, swee-uh...Connie?"
A suspicious look before Conrad continued. "Still not talking to you."
"Seem ta be havin' a convo with me right now, dar-Connie."
"What the fuck's with you?"
"What's with you?"
"Ugh, you always do that. Do you have any. Fucking. Idea. how annoying it is to have someone just parrot back what you're saying?"
He did, actually. It was why he normally did it. Without proper response, he shrugged.
"Yes, just go back to that, then. Sit there and pout and not actually talklike a normal human being."
"Thought ya weren't talkin' ta me. Make up yer mind." Two more pickles. Chewing occupied his mouth when he wasn't smoking. Gave him an excuse to shut up.
Conrad was scowling. Probably in a bad mood because he was hungry. There was a mug of blood on the table in front of Conrad. Worth's fingers touched the body of the mug. "Still warm. G'on. Eat. It'll warm ya up. Make ya feel better."
"Right," the vampire snorted, "you're the first person I'll go to for dietary advice."
"Jus' eat it, will ya?"
Clean nails brushed along the rim of the mug. Worth caught the scent of smoke and looked up to spot the succubus a few tables away, hair shortening, fading out to a pale gold. Worth immediately slung an arm around the back of Conrad's chair. He could see her shake her head, smiling, and her attention shifted to the Mothman at her table, skin turning luminescent.
For a few brief heartbeats Worth could feel Conrad's cool body against his arm, shoulders pressing together. But as he felt it, he also felt Conrad's muscles coiling, readying themselves for action. Conrad shoved Worth back while the zombie cut the crust from Hanna's lightly buttered toast. "Stop it! What the fuck is with you?"
"Whatever, Conrad. I'm jus' tryin' ta help."
"Help? Help me? How, precisely, is molesting me helping me?"
The doctor's face scrunched. "Ya got a real damn weird idea of molestin' if an' arm 'round ya makes ya flip out."
"Really? So you're comfortable with anyone just throwing an arm around you?"
"Course I am."
"Really?"
"See, Connie, here's th' thing," he brushed bread and grease onto a napkin while the zombie coaxed Hanna into taking a few bites of toast. "I ain't like you."
"Is that a fact? Shocking. You see, just the other day I was thinking to myself "My God. Worth and I, we're so much alike!""
"Connie, ya wanna talk? Less talk."
"No, we're not-"
"Shove it. We're fuckin' talkin' now." He ate another pickle, feeling it stick slightly in his throat while he turned his chair to face Conrad. "Thing is, Connie, outta all th' differences b'tween you 'n' me, th' biggest is that I'm comfertable with myself an' you sure as hell ain't. So, yeah, I'm fine if a bloke slings his arm 'round me. Don't bother me none. Why would it? Ya know what else wouldn't bother me? If that man kissed me. Christ, he kin throw in some tongue iffee wants, I don't care none. It bothers you 'cause ya got somethin' ta hide, somethin' ya ain't comfertable with 'bout yerself. So, yeah, I'm gonna call ya a fag, 'n' a queen, 'n' a homo till ya quit actin' like a goddamned flamin' closet case."
Conrad's face had slowly contorted more as Worth spoke, muscles tightening, winding themselves up. "So not wanting a stranger's diseased mouth on mine means I'm gay. This is your big difference between us."
"Missin' th' point. I've seen women hit on ya. Ya run screamin'. I've seen men hit on ya. Ya just get real fuckin' nervous." He waved a hand across the room, catching Hanna's disapproving stare and thoroughly ignoring it. "Look. Ya got a million options, Connie. Goddamned smorgasborg a women ta choose from, ones throwin' themselves at ya, an' ya ain't even taken th' time ta date one of 'em. Vagina."
Conrad started, face twisting. "Ugh wh-what?"
"See. Men who like women don't mind that word. Oi, Hanna."
"What?"
"Pussy."
The red head's eyes widened a fraction, jaw drooping. "Uhhhhh what?"
"See? He likes women. I like women. You?" He leaned in now, invading Conrad's space, feeling his own breath buffering off Conrad's skin and back onto his own. "Yer so fuckin' chicken shit that ya kin only deal with who ya really are by hidin' it away, lyin' ta yerself, pretendin', worryin' someone might find out one day who ya really are. It's pathetic 'n' it's bullshit, 'n' th' only time yer ever able ta even realize what ya want is when it's not jus' in front a yer face, it's grindin itself in yer lap. So," he leaned back in his chair, feeling worn and empty. "There. We talked."
Fingers like vices twisted in his shirt, pulling him forward towards Conrad's face, lips parted, fang bared. Conrad held him there while Worth slowly procured a cigarette, lit it, and took a puff, blowing smoke directly into Conrad's quivering face. "Faggot."
Conrad lifted him again, standing this time, slamming Worth's back on the table. The doctor coughed, wind knocked out of him, maintaining eye contact. He licked his lips, eyes narrowed. "Faggot."
A sound exploded from Conrad's chest, strangled, enraged, desperate. "You!"
"Faggot."
"FINE!"
"Fa-wot?"
Hands squeezed Worth's head, his vision filled with the blur of Conrad's suddenly close face. Something hard pressed against his mouth and then he was released, Conrad sitting down in his chair. "There! Fine! Gay! Are you happy now?"
His brain processed as he slumped slightly, feeling the wood of the table scrape along the ridges of his spine. He laughed, rolling over and setting his feet beneath himself to ease down into his chair. He was still laughing as he ordered a drink for Conrad. Was he happy? Christ. He retrieved his cigarette and slid his arm back around the vampire's shoulders, still feeling the automatic tensing of muscles beneath, though this time, he wasn't pushed away. "It's a start, Connie."