Title: Parasitic Hunger
Author: A. Haverstock
Characters: Allen/Jerry
Rating: PG
Warnings: n/a
Word Count: 431
Genre: Humour

Allen/Jerry for Sakiru (431 words)

Prompt: Seme!Allen. Doesn't matter with who.

Often time Allen will wake up in the middle of the night for no reason at all with his skin tingling and his senses alert. He knows this is most likely not normal, but he knows that 'normal' has never been a word used to describe him.

Tonight there is an aura around the bright quarter-moon and he has a feeling that the rest of the Order will awake to a world sparkling with water and sweet with the scent of morning rain. His thoughts are disrupted by the deep rumbling his stomach is emitting and he quickly heads towards the kitchens -- the only place in the whole of Headquarters that he can find without getting lost on the way.

By the time he arrives in the kitchens his feet have gone numb from the chilly tiled floors and the lingering smells of last evening's dinner causes his mouth to water. He's just about made it past all of Jerry's new security measures (especially made to keep him out, but that's never stopped him before) when he's stopped by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

The tapping of Jerry's foot against the kitchen floor keys Allen in to the fact that he is going to be hard pressed to get himself out of this situation. He sends the cook what he hopes to be an innocent grin but switches his tactics when Jerry's frown deepens and sends a devious smile instead.

"I thought you'd like some company," he purrs, slinking his way over to the cook's side. "It's been rather cold out and I wouldn't want you to catch the flu..." He trails off and places one hand on Jerry's forehead and the other on his own when a flush breaks over the older man's face. "Are you sure you don't have a fever? Your face is rather red..."

"I-I'm fine," Jerry manages. Allen is looking up at him with an expression on his face that Jerry is not used to seeing on him. It looked absolutely predatory, and he was ashamed to admit that it was causing a long-forgotten feeling to stir in his stomach.

"Alright," Allen says without pulling away. "But could you please tell me what's on the menu for this morning?"

"Well... that is" -- Jerry makes a commendable attempt to respond but is cut off by Allen's lips crushing suddenly against his own. Allen grins as he tastes the remnants of last evening's steak in the cook's mouth.

There isn't anything Allen wouldn't do for food.