NEPHELIGENOUS – (adj) producing clouds of tobacco smoke

Vance was desperately in need of a cigarette. His nerves were eating away at him and he knew that as each second ticked away, his patience grew exponentially shorter. Looking upon the city swimming with corpses and Commons was not helping in the slightest. He had no clue where his son was, dead or alive. And Arson...while he was hard on the teen, they weren't that different. They both were stubborn, hardheaded boys. He was just being as tough on the younger boy as his dad was on him, eons ago.

A soft claw landed on his shoulder and a worried face nuzzled his neck. He reached a hand up and rubbed at the soft hair.

"I'm worried."

"I know you are, honey," Landon purred, slipping a hand around the taller's waist. A box of Newports were in his clawed hand. "Take one. It'll calm you down."

Shakily, as if suddenly unsure about how much he needed the cancer stick, he opened the pack and withdrew one. If Landon hated that he smoked, why give him one?

"Because," Landon began with a calm voice, "if you don't, when the boys come home, you'll go absolutely insane and heavens knows what you'll do then."

"Is my temper really that bad?"

"Do Witches cry?"

Vance sighed and lit his cigarette, placing it between his dry lips and taking a deep breath. The cloud of green smoke filtered from his pores, forcing his lover to step back. The sudden warmth in his body was nothing compared to the coldness in his heart.

He wanted his son back. And that boy Arson too. As long as they're safe and happy, he should be too. He took another drag and sighed as more smoke swirled within and around him.

The stub of the smoke fell to the floor, a neat little pile he planned to clean up later. He cracked open the window and let the moist air clear out the remnants of smoke.

"Feel better now?" Landon asked.

Vance just nodded. The sun felt great on his face. He turned to his lover and pulled him into a soft hug. He looked down upon his ginger mate and smiled.

"As long as we're together..." Vance began.

"...nothing can tear us apart."

The door opened and they turned to see Arson carrying an unconscious Wyatt. All hope and joy left. The smaller Hunter didn't look like he was breathing.

Arson's face was full of joy. "He's safe. Just tired."

Landon leapt over and scooped his son from the Smoker teen's arms, hurrying for the boy's bedroom in the back. He removed the hoodie and jeans from his son before placing him onto the sheets, rubbing at his forehead tenderly. Wyatt's face relaxed in his slumber.

Vance approached Arson slowly, his smoke cloud fading calmly. The younger coughed awkwardly before taking a deep breath. "Sir...I need to talk to you about something."