hola everyone :) so no one reviewed my last two chapters...like, no one...but whatever. i'll put something up anyway but I would really appreciate reviews...I like to know what people think. it's hard to get any better if no one says you suck, you feel me?
anyway, jez and Morgead are 16 and 17 here and I DON'T own the night world even though that is a depressing thought
alright, read on
Not Drunk
Jez always found that the most mouth-watering blood could only be tapped from the veins of those of the staggeringly drunk; it was just one other thing that she and Morgead argued about.
And it was precisely what Jez was going to do that evening.
Naturally, she'd decided that the gang should go out to a club for blood tonight instead of hunting. Even though it was supposed to be the entire gang, Raven and Thistle weren't coming. Thistle – for obvious reasons – wouldn't be allowed in, and Raven because she'd decided she would go hunting with Thistle.
But Jez, Morgead, Pierce, and Val were all going.
Jez was just straightening her leather tube top when Morgead walked in through her bedroom door. She glanced at his smooth face in her mirror to try and gage his reaction to how she was dressed, but his face barely twitched.
She was really hoping to make an interesting impression tonight, and if she didn't even faze Morgead then how was she ever going to manage at the club?
"Morgead," she turned to face him and ran her palms over the hips of her leather pants. "how do I look?"
Frowning deeper, Morgead raked his dark eyes up and down her body in a cool way, and without looking at her anymore replied, "You look legal, that's for sure."
Jez narrowed her eyes. Not quite the response she was looking for . . . but she'd take it.
"Well, you look hot," Jez informed Morgead as she breezed past him and to the front door.
Not that he looked much different than usual. The only difference was the new black shirt he was sporting. Other than that: same old leather jacket, worn in all the right places; ripped black jeans tucked into muddy combat boots; and messy hair the same silky colour as the moonless night sky.
"Really," he mused, looking away a smidge.
Jez hummed an affirmative and stepped out the front door, taking a deep whiff of the cool night air.
"We are meeting the guys there, right?"
"Yeah, whoever's there first gets in line and saves a spot."
"Perfect," Jez paused at her bike uncertainly for a second before turning back to Morgead. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be in any state to ride a bike by the end of the night. "Should we take two bikes, or one?"
Morgead seemed momentarily taken aback by her question. It wasn't something they did often, and Jez really wasn't one for riding pillion. So, of course Morgead would be surprised.
But he quickly smoothed his face and shrugged. "If we do I can drop you there so you can get in line if we're first."
"Aww, that's so cute," Jez purred, grabbing her helmet and pulling it over her head. "You think you're driving."
"Well I'm not letting you drive me."
"What? Don't you trust me?"
Morgead snorted and muttered something that sounded like, "Not with my life."
"Come on, loser," Jez laughed, handing Morgead his helmet and getting comfortable on his bike.
With a roll of his eyes, Morgead surrendered and installed himself on the seat behind her. Pressing himself more or less against her, Morgead asked, "Why my bike though?"
"Well," Jez kick started the bike and roared out of the laneway, yelling over her shoulder, "you're driving back, aren't you?"
In one smooth motion, Jez cut the engine and dismounted Morgead's bike. Shame no one was around to see it, or she could have gotten an appetizer before the main course.
She jogged the three blocks back to the club to where she'd left Morgead standing in line.
Jez wasn't at all surprized that Val and Pierce weren't already there; they were always late. Or rather, Val was always late. Pierce was only late when he was waiting for Val.
By the time she got back to the club, Val and Pierce were standing with Morgead. And, shocker, there was a group of skanky looking collage girls talking animatedly with them. Val looked like he was the only one actually making conversation though. Pierce was staring icily at everyone who passed on the sidewalk, and Morgead was glaring moodily down the street.
Poor Val, Jez thought. It looks like he's really trying to have a conversation, and all those stupid girls want is to get Pierce and Morgead's attention.
Not that she could blame them, Pierce's quiet indifference did have a certain allure to it, and coupled with his chilly good looks and slim body, he could be quite the knockout. Jez watched him curiously for a second. She didn't ever take much time to consider her gang's looks, but she had to admit – in his white V-neck and black jeans, Pierce looked pretty good.
Even Val – who Jez always saw as brutish and loud – looked handsome tonight. In a hoodie and high-tops and easy grin spread across his face, he looked almost like a regular teenager.
But Morgead still had them both beat.
Jez slowed to a walk and slipped under the rope and into her gang's midst.
"Hey,"
Pierce and nodded silently and Val hollered an unnecessarily loud greeting.
"Did I miss anything?" Jez asked, looking pointedly at the girls now sizing her up.
Pierce's voice dripped with bitter sarcasm as he sighed, "Only a mind numbingly dull conversation curtesy of these three delectable young women,"
"Well, glad I missed it then."
"Sorry, umm, I didn't catch your name," one of the girls – the brunette – said. "Are you with them?"
Jez narrowed her eyes and sneered, "What gave it away?"
"That's Jez," Val butted in helpfully. "She's kind of –"
"Enough!"
Val's mouth snapped shut, Pierce glanced over sharply, and Morgead grudgingly ceased his examination of the city's skyline. The three girls blinked and gaped at how Jez held all the boys in rapt attention. It was something she'd gained from beating Morgead two weeks ago and winning back leadership of the gang.
"We're almost at the front," Jez glared at Val and muttered, "and I think it would be best if we stopped talking."
It was a short, quiet wait from then on until they reached the front of the line and were waved through curtesy of Morgead and his mind tricks.
As they entered the club, pulsing music filled the air, and the sharp smell of sweat and perfume stung Jez's nose. Pierce and Val split up, each beginning a survey of the room and its prey.
But Morgead stayed glued to Jez's side.
They sat down at the bar and watched vermin dirty dancing on the floor.
Jez could easily see Morgead frowning beside her, and she wasn't surprised when he leaned close to her and muttered, "Jez, I don't like this. It's too . . . packed."
Jez sighed, "You're the vampire here, Morgead, and you're acting like you're scared of them. It's supposed to be the other way around."
"I'm not scared," Morgead scowled. "They're just annoying. Look," he nodded towards a young guy staggering around with a beer in his hands. As they watched, he bumped into a couple making out, then into a short girl who was nearly knocked off her feet, and finally into the wall where he collapsed.
Rolling her eyes, Jez squeezed Morgead's shoulder and told him, "Just relax, would you. You haven't even fed today; it's probably making you edgy."
Jez figured Morgead would agree and go off to find some poor little girl who he'd corner and suck the heady red stuff right out of. But he only shrugged off her hand and flicked hair out of his face.
"I guess maybe you're right."
"Psh, I know I'm right."
Morgead sat for another few seconds before he lumbered to his feet and trudged off into the thrumming crowd. She watched him twist past writhing bodies until she could no longer pick him out.
She could feel eyes from all directions on her so, sitting back comfortably with her elbows on the counter behind her, Jez began a mental survey of every eligible donor.
Not the man over there – he was too old.
The boy standing awkwardly off to the side? Disappointingly sober.
The girl staggering around the fringe of the dance floor was too underdressed. It would make Jez uncomfortable trying to drink her blood when she looked like that.
Maybe the kid over in the booth in the far corner. He looked like he'd been tipping back shot after shot. He could be the perfect –
"Hello," a velvety voice interrupted Jez's train of thought. She glanced up at a man who was most likely in his late twenties. He had a dazzling smile and an easy way of moving about him, as Jez saw when he slipped onto the stool beside her. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Hmm, no," Jez gazed idly at the bar. "There's nothing I like here."
"Oh? What do you drink then?"
"I like the red stuff." She flashed her teeth briefly.
The man raised an immaculate eyebrow. "A wine drinker? You don't strike me as the type."
"Well," Jez let out a musical laugh that had several heads turning her way. She really did have her pick here. "What do I strike you as then?"
The man sat back and considered her – especially where her thin leather top clung to her chest.
"I think you like living on the edge. You seem . . . dangerous," he licked his lips greedily, something that made Jez bite back a condescending laugh. "And I believe you could get any guy here without even trying."
"You know? You're exactly right." Jez smiled coyly and stood up to leave. Gracefully stepping away, she narrowed her eyes at his bewildered expression and murmured, "See you."
She strode away at a leisurely pace, leaving the man spluttering on his stool.
Jez was headed for the corner booth with the young guy. As Jez neared the booth, she did a quick sweep of the immediate area out of reflex and caught a glimpse of Pierce leading a doe-eyed girl to a dark corner. She didn't see Val or Morgead right away, and she didn't have time to wonder how they were doing.
Melting onto the bench opposite of the boy, Jez smiled faintly and said, "Hi."
When he glanced up at her, Jez was able to see clearly how young he was. He couldn't be much older than her; maybe eighteen or nineteen, but he looked worse for the wear. Red eyes, scruffy brown hair, sloppy clothes.
But best of all, he seemed to be violently drunk.
With a sick smile, Jez thought that he must have been right on the verge of passing out.
He still managed to string together a sentence though, as he slurred, "Yeah, you're, uh, I – uh, hi."
Jez clucked her tongue and leaned over the table an inch or two. She watched the boy's blurry eyes glue themselves to her chest even as she spoke. "Rough night?"
"I guess. I mean, I – er, you could say that."
Jez hummed and fluttered her eyelashes slightly. "I'm Jez by the way."
"Oh, I'm Payton, but –" he was interrupted by a loud belch that made Jez cringe. He at least had the sense to look embarrassed. "Sorry."
"It's alright, what were you going to say?"
"Huh?"
"You know," Jez prompted. "Before you, ah, burped."
"Oh. I . . . I don't remember."
Jez rolled her eyes and muttered, "Well then."
"So, Jess,"
"Jez," Jez corrected.
"Are you on, no, by yourself?"
Payton was swaying now, probably just seconds away from dropping and dying of kidney failure or something. So if you thought about it, Jez would actually be doing him a favour by drinking his blood.
Needing to wrap things up quickly, she lied and told him that, yes she'd come alone, as she'd just gone through a rough break up.
"I guess you could use some –" A hiccup. "cheering up."
Jez slid smoothly from her side of the table and over to where Payton was slumping against the wall. Looks like she wouldn't even have to touch his mind. He was going to go to sleep all by himself.
Jez leaned over him and bared her fangs, whispering, "That's so sweet of you to offer."
And then she struck.
Morgead was watching Jez. Not in the creepy way or anything, just making sure she didn't get in any trouble.
That was what he told himself anyway.
He'd already grabbed a quick bite from one of the girls hanging off Pierce's arm – he'd collected a few that he'd obviously been nibbling on for the last little while. Morgead had left his girl slumped and shivering in a corner and gone to seek out Jez.
It took too long to find her.
The music was a loud pounding at his brain that wouldn't let him focus, and the sweaty bodies rubbing up against him every few seconds made him wish he could turn into a bat and just hang from the ceiling where nobody could touch him.
If only.
When he finally did find Jez, she was positioned overtop of a young guy in a booth. Her mouth was latched onto his neck, and Morgead saw her taking long, deep swallows. Even as Morgead watched, he saw the boy's hand slip from Jez's thigh and hang loosely over the edge of the bench.
Morgead continued to watch in angry silence as Jez – his Jez – continued to drink heartily. She was beginning to droop, and Morgead realized exactly what she'd done.
By the time Jez let go of the boy's neck, she was draped over top of him in a near comatose state. Morgead strode over and grabbed her roughly around the waist.
Jez moaned and squirmed half-heartedly when Morgead picked her up, but when he decided to put her on her feet, she swayed.
"Jez, we're leaving." Morgead told her angrily. But when she didn't so much as bat an eye, Morgead grabbed her chin and put his face close to hers. "Jez!"
Jez wiggled out of his grip and scowled vaguely. "I don't want to leave. And you're not the leader anyway, I am! And I say we stay!"
"You're being stupid," Morgead informed her as he began to tow her from the club like a child.
Despite her meek protests, Jez stumbled after him.
Morgead was angry. It seemed like Jez always did this. They went out, and his vampire friend somehow manages to get herself in a drunken state just like the vermin do. He had no idea how, and he didn't particularly care. He just wanted to get her home before she did something stupid; like try to kiss him – again.
When they got to the front of the club, a thought occurred to Morgead.
"Crap. Jez? Jez," He gripped her shoulders and made her look at him. "Where did you park my bike?"
Jez blinked back at him dumbly.
"Jez," Morgead growled and shook her. "Where is my bike?"
This time, Jez hiccupped.
"Oh for –!" Morgead pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. He was going to have to try and find it in her mind. Not really something he wanted to do.
He led a giggling Jez over to the side of the entrance where they would be deep in a shadow and grabbed her shoulders once more.
"Jez, I need you to think about my bike, okay? Can you do that?"
"Why do you want me to think about your bike? That's stupid."
"Just – just humor me, okay?"
Jez mumbled something incoherent and glanced away. Morgead could see her mentally drifting away from the conversation. The whole situation frustrated him to no end.
"Jez!" he placed his hands on her cheeks and leaned down so that their noses were almost touching. "Think. Please."
Morgead gently extended his mind to meet Jez's. He began poking around her recent memories, fighting through the thick fog clouded everywhere. There was a fleeting image of her on his bike, driving away from the club, and he followed it.
"Really," he muttered, retreating from her foggy mind. "Starbucks."
Jez yawned and mumbled, "I could go for some Starbucks."
"Jez, you don't even like Starbucks."
"Bah!"
When Morgead finally found his bike, he made sure to get Jez firmly on behind him and tell her not to let go of him. Over and over. The last thing he needed was Jez forgetting to hold on and to go flying right into the windshield of the car behind them. A morbid smile tugged at Morgead's lips as he imagined an old couple trying to push a squashed Jez off their windshield with their flimsy wipers.
Once they were on the road, Jez had herself squashed up against Morgead so tightly it was hard for him to breathe. She even had her legs wrapped around his waist. And Morgead . . . well he wasn't complaining.
Halfway through the ride, Jez pressed the palms of her hands to Morgead's stomach and groaned, "Morgead!"
Worried something could be wrong, Morgead slowed down slightly and glanced at her over his shoulder. Instead of looking queasy like Morgead figured she might, she looked like she was bursting at the seams with laughter.
"You're tummy is so hard!" she wailed and burst out laughing.
Morgead decided to ignore her for the rest of the ride.
When they finally got back home, she wouldn't let go.
"No!" Jez cried, burying her face in Morgead's shoulder blade.
"Jesus Christ, Jezebel,"
"Hey! Don't call me that, stupid!"
"Then let go of me and walk to the damn door!
Begrudgingly, Jez detached herself form Morgead and promptly fell off the bike. When she picked herself off the ground, Morgead was standing above her with his arms crossed.
Jez blew a raspberry at him and staggered to her front door. Morgead sighed, but of course he followed her. Her uncle wasn't even home; she'd probably trip on something and kill herself if no one was there to watch her.
As soon as Morgead opened the door for her, Jez tried to walk in and tripped over the door frame. Morgead rubbed his forehead while Jez rolled around on the floor moaning in pain.
"Christ, Jezebel, I'm going to have to carry you, aren't I?"
Grumbling to himself about how irresponsible she was, Morgead stooped down and gathered Jez into his arms the best he could. It was difficult trying to pick her up – she kept dripping out of his arms as if she was trying to make his life just that much more difficult.
When Morgead finally got her up to her room, Jez couldn't get her clothes off.
"Morgead, you have to help me change!"
That was when Morgead lost it. No way he could help Jez change her clothes – he just couldn't! He'd had a hard enough time just looking at her in that outfit, the way it clung to her body and hugged her curves; no way he could go about trying to peel it off her. He'd lose it.
Instead of gladly ripping off her clothes like he wanted to, Morgead backed up and roared, "What is wrong with you?"
Jez swayed backwards as if the force of Morgead's yelling was knocking her off balance.
In a small voice, she whispered, "I don't get it."
Biting back on his guilt, Morgead snarled, "Why do you always do this? Whenever we go out you try and get drunk like a human! Why do you do that?"
Jez spluttered and her eyes darted back and forth blankly. Yup, Morgead was yelling at a drunk person. At least she wouldn't remember this in the morning – she never did.
Seeming to collect herself, Jez yelled, "I'm not drunk! Vampires can't even get drunk!"
"Jez, you get the alcohol from vermin blood, and then you get intoxicated. And you do this every time! Why?"
"I do it because I want to!"
"Why the hell would you want to turn into a blathering idiot?"
"Because!"
"Because why? Because you want to be like those vermin? Because you want attention? Because you want to stumble in front of an eighteen wheeler and see if you'll make it?"
"Because I like it when you pay attention to me!"
Morgead's mouth snapped shut on another loud retort, and he went through a full body recoil.
What the hell was she saying.
"You're always so grumpy all the time, and I like it when you take care of me! You always used to, when we were little. But then you stopped! And tonight you're just acting like a butt. It's not working," Jez crossed her arms and pouted like a little girl. "You're just getting mad at me."
Morgead had no idea what to say to that. He'd never fathomed that the reason that Jez always got herself intoxicated through vermin blood was because she wanted Morgead to pay attention to her. Didn't she know how much he already did that? All day, every day?
Apparently not.
Morgead stood dumbfounded and watched as Jez threw herself onto her bed and curled up and a tight ball with her back to him.
"Fine."
When Jez didn't stir, Morgead stepped up to her bed and sighed, "Jez get up, I'll help you get on your PJs."
Slowly, Jez rolled onto her back and stared warily up at him. Morgead sighed again and reached a hand out to offer help up. Jez took his hand and climbed to her feet.
Morgead quickly unzipped Jez's top and tried not to look as he tore it over her head and replaced it with her pajama shirt, ignoring her squirming and small cries of pain as he pulled her hair.
He made her sit on the edge of her bed so he could swap her leather pants – which were decidingly difficult to get off – with her spandex PJ shorts. Jez tried to be helpful, thrashing her legs to try and get them through the sticky leather, but she only really succeeded in kicking Morgead in the gut.
She even tried asking Morgead to take off her bra for her since she couldn't possibly sleep in it, but that was where he drew the line.
He tucked her into bed and smoothed the hair back from her face, kissing her forehead gently.
He was just rising to his feet when Jez caught his shirt.
"Morgead, stay here tonight, okay?"
Frowning, Morgead brushed her and away and began to protest, but he was cut off before he even began.
"Please, Morgead? Please?"
Frowning deeper, Morgead turned back towards Jez and muttered, "Why do you want me to stay, weirdo?"
"Because. You're my best friend. I want you to stay."
A smile tugged at Morgead's mouth while he gazed down at Jez. She was already drifting off – she wouldn't even notice if he left. But he decided to stay anyway.
He dug out the spare pillow ad blanket from Jez's closet and settled on the floor beside Jez's bed.
Staring up at the ceiling and listening to Jez breathe, Morgead figured that she must be asleep. Sighing through his nose, he whispered her name, just wanting to hear it in the quiet of the night.
So imagine his surprise and embarrassment when she answered, "Yeah?"
"Oh . . . nothing."
"Oh," Jez was silent again for a while, but when Morgead was just beginning to doze off, she mumbled, "Morgead,
"Yeah?
"Promise that you'll always take care of me when I need it?"
It was a no brainer. Morgead would put his life on the line for Jez. He'd take a stake straight through the heart for her. Throw himself in the fiery pits of hell if it would help her.
Still, he took a moment to respond. But when he did, he really, truly meant it.
"I promise."