Disclaimer: I just…now…realized…that I control Mort and Johnny. Really. Up until now they just did whatever. Now I realize that I'm making them do whatever! No, don't worry your pretty little heads, I'm not killing anyone.

"We've turned vampires into Count Chocula and teenage girls are dating them." – Steve Niles

"We should…check on Ben."

"Yes, we should…" There's total silence while I try to form a coherent thought.

"So I'll just…go…do that." He clears his throat awkwardly, looking away.

"Right. So. Um. Bye."

"Yeah, that. Bye."

"Uh huh." I'm not so sure the thermostat is the only reason I'm sweating. I raise myself from the couch uncomfortably, seeing as I think my brain's stopped working just now, heading for Ben's door.

XXX

"Hey Ben." I enter through the side, like I have the other times. Surprisingly, however, he's not in the bedroom this time.

"Ben? You there?" None of the lights are on, but they wouldn't be.

But that's when I hear a soft sobbing from the bathroom. Not choking sobs, more the type to reign them back in.

I pad softly on the tile floor, trying to make the least noise possible.

"Ben?" My voice is feather soft. His legs bent up, face buried in his knees, arms wrapped around his whole body like they're holding him together.

"I'm never going to go home, am I?" His words tremble with pain.

"Ben…" Before I can even finish, he is consumed in another bout of sobs.

And somehow the mother in me knows just what to do. I sit down right next to him and pull him close to me, cradling this almost fully grown child to my chest like a small boy, rocking him back and forth.

The room is blue from lack of artificial light, though night spills in through one window onto the cheap white tile.

I feel him move against me, body convulsing with anguish.

So I start to sing. Sad, isn't it? That is my default comfort. What? Your cat died? I'll sing you 'Wild Tigers I Have Known'! You have a terminal disease? 'Hollow Heart' by n. Lannon!

So I don't know why I start singing 'House Under The Hill.' But I do anyway.

"Well I'm the same kid I was, out in the school yard." I suppose it's really more opera. Er, not that I'm wearing a Viking helmet, nor have I recently spouted long blonde braids, but it's more music put to words, not words put to music. Does that even make…no, no it makes no sense whatsoever.

All toads are frogs but not all frogs are toads! See? I did it again.

All tulips are flowers but not all flowers are tulips. I'm on a roll. No no no, one more! All squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares. I think I got it out of my system.

What? Oh. I'm comforting a crying…

Sorry, wait: Greatest teen angst story ever: Confessions Of a Teenage Vampire. Hee.

Right. Comfort the angsty teen vamp. On it.

Wait, he stopped crying. That's good, right?

I lean down and check his pulse.

Yep. He conked out. He cried on my shoulder, listened to me while I absentmindedly sang half of some Finches song, and…died. Well, temporarily, but still. Guess that takes care of him for the next few days. Now I have to deal with that other thing.

XXX

"Uh…hello again." I peek in the door. No, seriously, do you all have an aversion to lights? Nothing. Not a single iota of illumination. Still, he's turned the heat down. To ninety five. Yeah, that's not really a compromise.

"Mmmm." I hear come from the couch.

"Hello, mister potato." I lean over the top of the couch. He's lying, back down, on the couch. I can't see him fully, just the places where lights from outside have painted blue: cheekbone, eyes, hair, a little chest.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Not funny."

"Wasn't trying to be."

"You were just trying to creep me out."

"I was just trying to scare you."

"Didn't work."

"I see that." I can't tell exactly but I feel his gaze meet mine full on. Now, there's something I'd really like to do right now, but I doubt that's going to happen.

I'm willing to bet that everyone in the world knows what it is. Also willing to bet that no one in the world cares whether or not I do it.

There's total silence. He seems perfectly comfortable with it, like he's expecting to elicit a certain reaction from me, a Mona Lisa smile on his face.

I hate it when he does that. But he doesn't stop, and he knows, he knows, that I'm becoming uncomfortable with this. He's got to know. No one could act like this by accident.

To hell with it.

I lean down, forward, until our faces meet in a you-know-what. There's a deep inhalation of breath, mine or his, I don't know. I hook my fingers into the neckline of his shirt, and instead of pulling away…

He pulls me on top of him, hands on either side of my waist. I'm kneeling on his chest, which I imagine isn't comfortable in the least, but he doesn't seem very concerned with that at the moment.

Hold on…can't…form…coherent…thoughts…

Never breaking the kiss, I brace my hands on his chest and stretch my legs out so that we're fully lying on top of each other. I feel his arms move from my hips to encircle my waist fully, pulling me closer (if that's possible).

Ahem. Yeah, yeah I'd say that's proper diversity of immunology. Um.

A/N: Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! I know, I know, there was nobody from Moonlight in this chapter and I'm a terrible person and I don't deserve to be on and what's wrong with me and blah, blah, blah. I'll try and have more of them in the next chapter!