Chapter 10 – Small Steps Forward

"This has got to change." Mitchell said, releasing his grip a little

"Yes."

"We've got to arrange this better."

"I quite agree."

"But, right now we have a menial but pressing issue at hand; we have to get you out of my bed and somewhere respectable before the others get back, 'cause if either of them find us up here, they're going to freak."

"Small steps, Mitchell."

When Emiline had 'awoken' she'd been somewhat frantic about her whereabouts.

"What?" she'd said "where is this? Wait, Mitchell, why am I still in your bedroom? No, oh no. Why… why are you holding me?" She'd writhed then, panicked and confused. Mitchell had only made the situation worse by clasping her even harder in an attempt to stop her moving. Eventually, she'd relaxed a little repeated;

"Why are you holding me?"

Now, he was carrying her downstairs. She'd made as if to get up like she would have done normally, but had fallen flat on her face. Embarrassed and protesting loudly, Mitchell had scooped her up with ease, legging it as fast as he could to the living room and the sofa. There, the tension eased.

"Emiline, I want to apologise."

"What for?"

"Feeding off you past the point at which you would have normally died and causing you to pass out."

"That's hardly your fault. If you're going to apologise for anything, do it for lying there holding me whilst all the blood drained out of your system; we'll only have to do this again, won't me Mitchell?"

"Funny you should say that, 'cause I was just thinking; I don't feel like feeding at all. I guess that once I've drunk it, that's just it, like any other blood."

"Oh."

"Not that your blood doesn't taste alright or anything… it's different from anything I've ever had, something special, but…"

"I don't care what my blood tastes like as long as it's okay… but I'll try and take that as a compliment." She suddenly started giggling insanely, drawing a stare from Mitchell.

"Oh, sorry Mitchell, it's just that if you were to go back and tell my living self that one day I'd be sitting with a vampire discussing the taste of my blood, I'd probably just have laughed in your face and walked off. But now… things have all changed."

"Yeah, that's the thing about being dead." Mitchell said the words in a cut-throat serious tone, but it was clear that he saw where the amusement came from.

"Emiline, the whole point in me drinking your blood is that I drink less and less every time, so that I can try and shake the addiction. I seem to have drunk more this time that the first, so we're missing the whole point of the exercise. You've got to stop me, okay? Tell me when you've had enough."

"Oh Mitchell, I couldn't, I…" he upon her in a second.

"You will tell me. Oh, yes you will damn well tell me." He was pinning her down to the sofa, his face close to hers, almost touching.

"Hi, I'm back." George clomped noisily through the door, followed by a bored-looking Annie. Mitchell leaped back before either of them had a chance to see him like that with Emiline.

"I tell you, that girl down at the counter in the supermarket. What a prat. 'No I do not want that tin of Barbie-shaped spaghetti hoops or the glitter pens, neither of which are mine. No I didn't put those in my basket' for the third bloody time." George was rambling.

"Did you get what you wanted in the end though?" asked Emiline, discreetly trying to stand up, but wobbling over again.

"Yeah, I'm making dinner. I've had this great idea for…" he blabbered on and Annie rolled her eyes at Mitchell and Emiline.

"Shall we put the box on then?" asked Annie.

"Sure, that's just what I was about to do."

About half an hour into '100 most famous 80's songs' however, George let out a howl.

"It's not his time is it?" asked Annie, looking worriedly at the kitchen door "I thought he'd just had that." To answer, George came out, carrying the dish of… whatever it was supposed to be, crying tears the size of watermelons over it.

"It's burned! It's not supposed to burn! It can't have."

"Oh god." Said Annie "It's alright, George, I'm sure we can salvage some of it."

"No, it's ruined." He wailed. The whole scene was somewhat comical; a fully-grown man-who-was-actually-a-werewolf sobbing over a plate of food like his whole life was falling apart before his eyes.

"Alright, alright, girls to the rescue." Annie got up, and gestured to Emiline who stumbled up, but then (to Mitchells relief) regained her balance.

An hour or so later, dinner was served, the main meal being simply pasta (as that was the only thing that Annie could find in the house).
"You know, I think I over-reacted to the whole meal-failure thing."

"You could be right."

"So, my new new-year's resolution is not to get wound up when I burn the food for only the first time."

"It seems a bit late to be making resolutions, George," said Annie "and a bit silly if you ask me."

"Well, you know bit-by-bit and all that."

"Small steps forward, George." Mitchell said, making Emiline laugh hysterically.