A/N: If you haven't already, please go back and re-read the last bit of the last chapter – the part about Viggo and Mac has been changed. I have found out that my friend DID know that by having me write that, I would get writers block! I smell mutiny! Don't worry, she'll be punished in the following chapters.
By the way, if you don't understand WTF is going on in some parts of this, feel free to e-mail me, IM me, or review with your e-mail address and tell me what you don't get, so I can explain it O_o; I know, it's bad when a writer has to explain their writing, but ah well. Also, review with your e-mail address if you want to be notified of the next update! That said, please continue to read!
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Viggo growled, scrubbing his teeth with a ferocity that was only found in animals. Moby looked up from his book, watching the younger man pace across the room.
"What's your problem, mate?"
"Nuffink," the Swede muttered, going to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth. "Fuck, I'm bleeding!"
"Your gums tend to do that when you beat them with your toothbrush."
"Gah! This day has gone from bad to worse!" The blonde came out of the bathroom and flopped into his bed, groaning into the pillow. Moby raised an eyebrow, returning to his book.
"Make sure you don't keep bleeding. I get... antsy." Viggo looked up, and noticed he was being totally serious.
"You might wanna get that checked out."
"Tried. Not exactly many cures that don't involve silver bullets."
"Jeeze. That's hard." There was silence.
"So, what's your problem?" Moby finally asked again, dog-earing the page and putting the book down, looking at the other with raised eyebrows.
"Nothing."
"I'm the only one allowed to say nothing when there's something in this room!"
"Shut yer trap, ya whiny English boy." Despite this, Viggo rolled over and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. "I just played my cards wrong, that's all."
"...Oh. So you finally professed your undying, everlasting, one-sided love to the little yank, huh?"
"You are so oldschool, it's killing me," the Swede muttered, then blinked. "Waitasec. You knew?"
"Aduh." Moby motioned vaguely with a hand. "He's never gonna like you, bruv."
"A pair of 'yank' lips says otherwise." Moby regarded him with surprise.
"So you did the dirty, eh?" the Englishman finally said, smirking.
"What? No!" Viggo shook his head. "Stop it. You're making me sound like a girl."
"Viggo, you're the closest to a girl you'll ever get, believe me. So, what's the scoop? You got a bit of French in but you come back to the room like you just got turned down for the Nobel Peace Prize."
"That's all it was, arsel. Nothin' more."
"Hmm." Viggo rolled back on his side, facing away from the other.
"Mammaknullare... Is it still that time?"
"Yeah. For another day or two."
"Great. I'm going to sleep. Don't tear me to shreds."
"I'll try my best." The lights were flicked off, but Viggo brooded on in the darkness.
***
"Psymon, you aren't kicking us out tonight, are you?" Psymon rolled his eyes, watching the screen with too much concentration to actually be watching the show on. Griff was bouncing on his bed, looking down at Psymon's back.
"Nah."
"Cool. Whatcha doin'?"
"Trying to watch Sex And The City."
"Why?" Psymon blinked, then looked at the screen again.
"....Dunno." He switched it to wrestling, then to ESPN.
"Hey, it's us!"
"Yeah. Great." Griff frowned, and then bounced over to the edge, before flopping down next to Psymon.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothin', kid." Griff's frown turned to a pout, and he crossed his arms.
"I told you not to treat me like a kid!" he whined. Psymon smirked.
"My mistake. Where's Nate?" he suddenly asked, looking around.
"He's practicing the course. I think he's angry because Viggo kissed him."
"Obviously." Griff watched as they rode down Snow Jam, thoughtful.
"I think he's still mad because Elise saw it, and probably thinks he's a jackass because of it." Psymon grinned, then reached over and ruffled the boy's hair.
"You're perceptive."
"It doesn't matter though, right? Because Elise has... 'better taste,' right?" Psymon looked at him, bemused.
"Where'd you hear that?" Griff grinned.
"I heard Elise talking to Oni this afternoon, before I went shopping with Viggo and Mac. What's going on with them, anyways?"
"What do you mean?" Psymon changed the channel again.
"Well, they get all awkward and Viggo gives Mac those googley eyes that you and Oni give each other sometimes. Are they going out too?" Psymon chuckled.
"I'm pretty sure that Mac likes Kaori, little man." Griff shook his head, watching the commercial for Del Taco.
"Nuh-uh, I heard them talking once when we were outside. They're just friends, they both said so. Mac said something about Kaori and that Brodi guy." Psymon blinked once, then again, looking at the redhead.
"Brodi, huh? That's surprisingly not surprising. But," he continued, "A lot of the time, people will say they don't like someone when they really do but aren't ready to say it. Especially to their face." Psymon's look was shaded, but Griff didn't call him on it.
"Well, Viggo and Mac say they're just friends too, but they do more gooey, lovey stuff than Mac and Kaori do." Psymon shrugged.
"I dunno, man. Crazier things have probably happened."
"Yeah, did you hear Viggo last night? He was yelling for Zoe. It was weird. He called Moby a demented puppy dog." Psymon smirked, and then flopped back on the bed to watch South Park.
"Moby's a crazy moth- mofo. Who knows what half of the things people call him mean?" Griff shrugged, then crawled up to the end table. "What are you doing now, eh?"
"I'm hungry. I'm getting a burger – do you want something?"
"....Nah. That's okay," the Canadian said, "Keep it down, I'm going to get some sleep."
"Sure. Thanks for not kicking me out of the room tonight, Mac's smells kind of funky. I don't think he does any laundry." Psymon rolled over on his side, chuckling.
"I don't think he knows what laundry is."
***
Nate growled, grinding his teeth as he sat at the counter of Denny's. He thought.
Fucking homo. Stickin' his tongue down my throat like that. I should fucking throttle him! I wish I had!
Then, his conscience and his common-sense stepped in. I wish I hadn't blown up like that. I wish I had been calmer about it. Now Elise thinks I'm more of an ass then before.
Back to destructive thoughts. I wish I had beaten the shit out of him! Kicked him until he collapsed! If his fucking boy toy hadn't stepped in, I would've!
I wish I hadn't hit him. I wish I had thought before I acted.
I should go beat him up and show him who's who around here!
I should go apologize. In front of Elise, probably. That would make me look better.
He sighed, and looked at his cup of coffee. The steam was barely visible, but he could feel it hit his face. He sighed again. I wish I hadn't overreacted like that.
***
Screaming. Screaming, blood, and pain. Mixed with the pain was this insatiable hunger, fueled by the smell of blood and not to be quelled by it. A rage that ran up his spine and into the deepest, most primal and dark part of his brain raised it's horrible head and screamed.
Viggo shivered, listening to Moby growl and hiss in his sleep. He had already transformed, in sleep, and was now sounding like no more than a feral animal. It was frightening; the sound of the wolf inside of the Englishman being freed; the smell of blood that was both on his tongue because of his gums and in the air because Moby had bitten his arm earlier to keep from screaming; the feeling that seemed to create a malignant aura around the other.
He could sense prey nearby, but his own self was holding him back, constantly reminding him that the prey was his roommate, his friend, and besides, he probably wouldn't taste good, anyways. However, the fear that he could feel in his sleep was astounding, and he growled lowly. The fear grew.
The still night was pierced by a wolf howl, and Viggo instantly jumped up, looking at Moby fearfully. He knew the other was still asleep, but the sound had come from him. Another howl, outside, far away, responded. The Swede shivered, and then he yelped as he caught sight of Moby's yellowed eyes.
"Get out." His voice was deep and very rough, as though it was nearly impossible to speak. "You smell like blood."
"I... I..."
"Get out!" he shouted shrilly, distinct fear in his voice. Viggo leapt out of his bed and made a mad dash for the door, grabbing a pair of pants on the way out.
***
Mac tossed his alarm clock onto the ground, before realizing that it was not the reason he had woken up. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, cursing his habit of bashing the mechanical shit out of anything that caused noise in the morning.
Getting up, he went to the door and opened it, blinking in the dim light that was always on at night in the hall.
"Viggo?" he questioned, cautious. The Swede was almost in a cold sweat, and looked as though he was running for his life.
"Moby – he..." He's a werewolf, and said that I smell like blood, so I had to run for my safety? "He was yelling in his sleep. I... It's..."
"He does that a lot," Mac murmured, ducking his head to the side to catch Viggo's eyes, which were looking at the room he had just left. "What was he yelling?"
"Weird things... I got scared. Stuff about blood." The Swede suddenly realized how stupid he must look, standing in the hall in his monogrammed satin high cut teal bikini briefs and big white sleeping shirt, and shifted uncomfortably. "I just... uh... Can I make myself at home on your pile of clothes tonight?"
"Uhm..." Mac was busy looking at the monogrammed satin high cut teal bikini briefs. "Sure, dawg. It's cool."
"Uh, thanks." Mac let the other inside, and closed the door. "Um..." The Swede, for lack of anything left to say, simply went to the pile of clothes in the corner, and worked on kicking them into a pile for a bed.
"...Look... About earlier..." Viggo sighed.
"It's no biggie, Mac. I'm cool, I told you that. I'll get over you in a matter of days; I still have that bar chick's number."
"But I don't want-" Viggo looked at the American, the smallest hint of hope in his eyes. He coughed. "I don't want there to be any bad blood between us. That's all."
"Oh." Viggo sighed again, and went back to the pile. "No, don't worry. There isn't any 'bad blood' between us. I just want to be friends."
"That's.... yeah, that's cool. I like you, man, you're really cool... but I just... I..." Mac trailed off. "You really wear monogrammed satin high cut teal bikini briefs."
"Yeah, man.... Just like you wear boxers and briefs." Mac smiled slightly and sat down on the edge of his bed, watching as Viggo finally got all of his clothes into a proper pile. The Swede then turned, and pulled at his shirt, looking around. "Uhm."
"What?"
"....Can I just ask... one thing?" Mac looked at Viggo, trying to read the other, trying to figure out what he would ask.
"Uh.... I guess..." Viggo looked up from the ground and at Mac.
"Can I just... get one more kiss? Just one," Viggo said quickly, noticing Mac's look, "And I'll leave you alone. Promise."
"I....um...." Mac looked around the room for any sign that they were being watched, then quietly nodded. "Alright... but, just one."
"Just one." Viggo moved in front of the other, looming over him, and Mac watched as Viggo leaned down. He tilted his head, and met the other's lips very carefully, unsure as to how this kiss was supposed to be. Viggo's arm snaked around the American's shoulders, holding him in place, but Mac didn't mind.
Viggo sighed as he pulled away, and stepped back. "...Thanks." Mac nodded, though he wasn't really paying attention.
"You're welcome..." The Swede moved towards the pile of clothes, when Mac stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man... you can sleep in the bed. I don't mind."
"Uh..."
"Just don't kick me, a'ight?" Viggo smiled very shyly – very unlike himself – and nodded.
"A...Alright. Thanks." And they climbed into the bed, each one determined to not touch the other.
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A/N: Thanks for putting up with the long wait, you guys, and my pathetic and short chapters. Review, please, and leave your e-mail if you want to be notified of the next chapter! Also, tell me what you want to see in upcoming chapters – more of what character or plotline. I really do tend to listen to you guys.... I swear, I'll do something angsty with Psymon... like... making him fall off a cliff! ....No, wait... that's been done....
PS: Mammaknullare means "motherfucker" and Arsel means "ass" in Swedish. Just letting you know.