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They’ve been locked in the ‘haunted’ wine cellar for three hours when Mike finally loses his temper and opens one of the bottles of wine.

“Do you have any idea how much that might cost?” Henry asks, coming closer. He holds the torch closer, trying to read the label, but Mike purposefully turns it away.

“I don’t care.” The detective retorts. “If Corrine hadn’t done that-“ He air quotes. “’Trapping the Spirits’ thing, we wouldn’t be stuck down here.”

Henry considers for a long moment. “It did stop the poltergeists.”

“I could be eating a cheeseburger! With a soda! Or a milkshake!” He gestures with the wine bottle. “Instead, there’s only this. And it’s cold!”

Henry looks around in the cavernous darkness a long moment, and shrugs. “I’m sure Vicki and Corrine will return any…” But he doesn’t finish the sentence. From the way Vicki and Mike had been quarreling she might very well have thought Mike went home directly after the ghosts were caught… Until she realizes they’re both missing, in a few days, or the owners of the wine cellar- who are out of the country right now- come home… Henry shook his head. Sooner rather than later his hunger would get the better of him. He spies a stack of ruined wine casts. “I can build a real fire, at least.” He says, looking back to the detective. It’s better than nothing.

They’ve settled in a small alcove near the main stairs. The little fire is quite cheery, and warm- at least to Henry. It’s not as warm to Mike, who Henry has already given his coat to.

“I wish there was some coffee down here.” Mike slurs a little and Henry glances over at him. It’s not quite fall yet, but Canada is cold enough already… At least this looks like it’s mostly the two bottles of wine Mike had gotten into and not hypothermia.

“That would be nice.” Henry answered. It would be very nice to wrap his hands around the mug and feel the heat of it. “What else would you like?”

Mike snorts. “An electric blanket. A cell phone that gets a signal. Breakfast sausages.”

“Are they that good?”

Mike stares at him a long moment. “They didn’t have them when you were alive?”


“Oh man.” Mike groans. “You’re missing out.” He reaches for a bottle and manages to knock it over instead. It sloshes against the floor and Mike curses. “Want to get me another one?”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Henry asks, studying him.

Mike shrugs. “Doesn’t seem like it matters.”

“It’s making you colder, you know.”

Mike makes a shushing gesture at him. “Just get me another bottle of wine, Fitzroy.” Mike drank it slower though, staring at the fire and shivering inside the two coats. “Why did you have to like Vicki, anyway?”

“I’m sorry?” Henry choked out, startled. He turned, but Mike wouldn’t look at him. “What?”

“I was just- There were some good times, when we were police, and then I was just starting to think things, you know, could…” Mike shrugs and grimaces while he drinks. “And then you came along.”

“You think… My presence kept you and Vicki from resuming your relationship?” Henry pieced together.

“She likes you.” Mike said, petulantly.

“She likes you.” Henry retorted, studying the fire.

“Wait- what?” Mike turned to look at him. “I thought you- that you two-“

“We aren’t.” Henry explained.



Mike stared at his bottle of wine a little longer, then held it out wordlessly. Henry accepted it.

They were on the forth bottle, which Mike had hardly been allowed to have any of, when Mike realized he was shivering really hard. “It’s cold down here.”

“Did you just notice?” Henry asked, snorting softly.

“No. It’s just really cold. And Vicki and Corrine aren’t ever going to notice we’re missing. And I’m really drunk. And cold.” Mike ticked the thoughts off on his fingers.

“I think you said cold twice.”

“Did I?” Mike thought about it, then shrugged. “We’re going to die down here and neither of us are getting anywhere with Vicki.”

“I like how that’s your complaint about this whole thing.”

“I just want her to be happy, you know?”

Henry realized this was getting way, way to maudlin, but nodded anyway. “She’ll be happy. I’m sure of it.” There was no chance someone like Vicki Nelson couldn’t find happiness.

“Maybe you could do a better job than me.” Mike said, quietly.

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re prettier.”

Somehow Mike managed to time that exactly to when Henry was drinking from the bottle- he choked, then turned to glare at Mike.

“You don’t try to take care of her, like I do.” Mike said morosely. “You take care of her in some weird way that she likes. And you bite people and they like it.”

“Those are my selling points, then?” Henry joked.

“I said you were pretty, right?” Mike asked and Henry snorted.

“Oddly, yes.”

There was a long moment where Henry thought maybe Mike was getting up, or trying to get up, or get closer to the fire. He shuffled about on his knees for a long moment and then before Henry could stop him Mike threw a leg over Henry’s lap, settling heavily onto him.

“What are you doing?” Henry snapped, startled. Mike swayed hard to the right and Henry had to grab him by the hips to keep him upright. And in his lap. “Detective?”

“If you can make her happy, then you should live.” Mike pulled the collar of his shirt aside, baring the old bite wounds.

“We’re not dying.” Henry snapped. “This isn’t one of those blizzard survival movies- Stop.” He ordered, when Mike wriggled in his lap. “Stop it.”

“But I want you to survive so Vicki can be happy.” Mike explains, struggling with the buttons on his shirt. “Come on, you’ll like this.” And between struggling with his shirt and Henry trying to keep him still and make him stop, Mike winds up grinding on him, which startles a groan out of Henry. They both freeze. “Are you serious?”

“You started it.” Henry snaps, intelligently.

Mike studies him a really, really long time. He shrugs. “Oh well. I’m drunk. And I’ll be dead in the morning.” He says it like an excuse and Henry narrows his eyes at him. That doesn’t stop Mike from kissing him. It also doesn’t stop Mike from shoving his hands up inside Henry’s shirt- that human warmth is so startling hot that Henry gasps and Mike goes in for the kill, luring him into a proper kiss. For long moments they’re lost in kissing- gasping for air, nipping at each other- and then Mike turns his head aside, baring the side of his throat. “Come on, do it.” And he sort of shuffles back and forth on Henry’s lap, forcing another groan out of him.

“Damnit Mike.” Henry snarls. “I’m not- We’re aren’t-“

“Would it be better if we were coming?” Mike asks and Henry glares at him. Which, again, does nothing to stop Mike- who starts tearing at Henry’s clothes, burning him with his blood hot hands, scalding him with fingerprints across his chest and around his waist. And he keeps sort of nipping at Henry’s neck, ducking his head down and half growling like he’s the vampire. And once he’s got hold of Henry’s cock, Henry gives up the fight. He groans, feeling like he’s on fire from the touch, shudders under it until his manners remind him Mike is right there and he probably wants to get off too. It takes him a moment to get Mike’s pants open, to get his cock out, and then they’re both moaning, clutching at each other, kissing drunkenly.

“Why’d you have to be so pretty?” Mike groans, clutching a fistful of curls.

“All the better to eat you with?” Henry manages to joke and he’s surprised when Mike actually laughs at that, then curses, getting close.

“Come on, come on.” Mike growls at him, using that handful of hair like a handle and at first shoving Henry’s face into his collar bone, then into his sternum, before finally crushing him up under his jaw. “Do it.”

Henry licks a long stripe of sweat, keeping his teeth in check, and feels Mike start to shudder in his arms. He’s so close it hardly matters, and Mike’s grinding brings him off, he growls and snarls against Mike’s throat, feeling the mortal convulse in his arms.

The next morning the fire has gone out and Vicki is standing over them with a flashlight, looking amused and terrified. She kicks Henry’s shoe again, eyes glued to Mike slumped over him, both coats wrapped tight over his back in an effort to keep in the heat.

“Henry!” Vicki hisses at him, startled.

“Hmm?” He half wakes up, realizes his chin is propped on the crown of Mike’s head and his arms are linked under the coats.

“Did you kill him? Oh my god, you’re left alone for eight hours, and-“

Mike snuggles into Henry’s chest, making a distressed noise. “’S too early.” He groans, then makes a noise that is so sexually satisfied Henry has no chance of explaining this away.

Vicki looks furious until she hears the noise and then her cheeks go pink.

“Are you serious?” She snaps.

Henry shrugs. “He started it.”