Ford had forgotten what true darkness was like. Even when the power had gone out in the tower there had been enough residual light for his nocturnal eyes to pick up on, at least for a while. Shapes in the dark, enough to navigate by, leading to what he was now realizing was a false sense of security, as if darkness could only affect him so much.
Waking up from his nap to the absolute pitch dark had been confusing, and then, when his eyes didn’t adjust, when that struggle for the bedside lamp didn’t help anything, panic. No shapes. No light. That nagging little feeling in the back of his head told him it was still daylight. The sounds of weather told him that there was likely nothing blocking the windows. His skin and nose told him Yasiel was there, pressed into him, still asleep for the time being, and he latched onto that information like it was the one thing that could keep his brain from reeling.
His eyes told him nothing.
It was no doubt his fault that Yasiel woke up. Maybe if he hadn’t been clumsily flailing around so much it would have bought his witch a couple more blissful hours of ignorant sleep. Maybe by the time he would have woken up naturally whatever this was would have passed. He knew the instant Yasiel was awake because the panic was immediate, and palpable, and terrible. For a few awful moments Ford would never admit to, he found himself almost grateful that he was given something more important to focus on than his own building distress. That fearful heartbeat thrummed in his own ears as he held on tight, murmuring, squeezing, assuring. He wished he had warmth, something he didn’t have to borrow to give back. Something to make him more tangible and soothing.
It had taken time for Yasiel to calm down enough to try the lights. Ford could feel that wonderful, familiar sensation of magic, waiting for those lovely, soothing colors to appear. Only they didn’t. Except…they did. In his gut he knew they were there, his emotions and Yasiel’s talent mingling to create something beautiful like they always did, but his eyes…
Not darkness. Blindness. They were blind.
That was….something. An answer, at least. And that meant those lovely blue colors were surely there, even if they couldn’t see them. The bedside light he’d been fumbling with was probably, loyally, shining on. The daylight, whatever winter would allow, was probably sneaking its way into the room just fine. On one side, that was a bit of a relief that, despite the fact that it didn’t really help them one way or another, light existed. On the other, he couldn’t remember if they’d fallen asleep with the curtains in the sitting area open or closed. He supposed he’d find out when they moved, if they spent enough time out there.
If they moved.
Neither one of them seemed in a particular hurry to detangle. Ford had squeezed his eyes shut early on, as if he could trick his brain into thinking the lack of sight was a choice. His other senses zeroed in on Yasiel as his own mouth chattered on about whatever came to mind. Touring mishaps (“so this one time Joy actually hopped off stage mid-number to confront this dude in the front row…”), random animal facts (“sperm whales sleep vertically, but they can only do it for…like…twenty minutes at a time because they still need to surface so they can breathe But they sleep in groups, so it’s like…a whale forest”), and theoretical Secret Santa plans that he was quickly realizing probably weren’t getting talked about with Gwen today.
Talking to talk. And when he couldn’t think of what to say next, he sang, quiet and low. His songs, old rock, songs he only knew some of the lyrics to. A few times, songs that he’d pause in singing so he could describe the old music videos that had been popular before Yasiel had likely even been born. Ford never quite relaxed, but he settled, unnerved and chattery, but warm and secure with the fact that neither one of them was alone. That this hadn’t happened when he and Yasiel were separated. That if it had he wasn’t sure he could have gone looking for his boyfriend without making a complete mess of himself. Small miracles.
“...I mean, most music videos back then were just dudes on stage not really doing anything interesting, especially for rock. Most of the weird and cool shit was actually happening with pop back then. Like…Total Eclipse of the Heart? You know…Once upon a time I was falling in love, and now I’m only falling apart. There’s nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart,” Ford sang now before shifting back to the conversation, smirking a little despite the fact that Yasiel couldn’t see it, and he didn’t entirely feel it. “That music video has ninjas in it, and it’s not even the weirdest fucking thing in there.”
Yasiel’s mind felt as fractured as Ford’s stream of conscious dialogue. The horror and hysteria he’d spun into upon waking blind still felt like a very near thing, always at the edges of his awareness and waiting to overwhelm him again. He stared into blackness, blinking occasionally out of habit as Ford hopped from fact to stories and back again, his grip on his vampire still what might be considered uncomfortably tight for someone living.
“I don’t remember that one,” he mumbled, voice sounding distant even to his own ears. Instead of his other senses sharpening he only an exhausted sort of numbness that made everything seem dull and far away. “The oldest weird one I remember is Paula Abdul and the cartoon. MC Skat Cat.”
Opposites Attract, the song had been called. Yasiel tilted his face to burrow further against Ford’s chest. His limbs felt gummy and he was fairly sure he was still shaking, despite his vampire’s best efforts at holding him close and reassuring him that he still had full control of himself besides sight.
He shifted a little more, grabbing for one of Ford’s hands to hold between his own. “I thought about doing something like this, a couple days ago. Working on being able to stand it when it’s too dark like this.” Yasiel’s plan had been very different, however. “It would’ve been sexier. There might’ve been a blindfold involved.”
Nothing like the pile of nerves and spent tears currently residing in Ford’s arms. It made Yasiel feel small and foolish even as he squeezed Ford’s hand tighter.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. “But I appreciate you telling me about whale forests.”
"There weren't a whole lot of music videos that mixed in animation. I liked a lot of them, though." As if he needed to chatter about how great Take On Me was, again. "And that's a really good one."
Focusing on the sensation of Yasiel's individual fingers grasping his hand, it was hard to picture a sexy scenario with Yasiel and darkness. Maybe when they weren't so close to losing it again. Maybe when they had control back. Maybe when they had a few days separation from their current shot nerves.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," he promised, dipping his head carefully so as not to knock them together, raising their intertwined hands to try and kiss knuckles. He hit his own hand at first, snorted a little, then maneuvered a bit to try again. That...might have been a finger. Not one of his own, anyway.
"That's great, though," he added, keeping those hands close so Yasiel could feel the breath that escaped with each word. So that he himself could inhale the scent of skin before he spoke again, taking as much comfort as he was hopefully giving. "That you might be ready to try something like that. I think it's really brave to know that there's something that affects you that much and wanting to do something about it." Honestly, maybe he could do with a little of that too. His nocturnal vision wasn't terrible, but navigating was a pain in the ass. Not having to overcome genuine fear, aside from right now, wasn't exactly the same thing, but still.
"What if..." he started, frowning thoughtfully, trying to remember what Yasiel had said about turning into other things. "Do you think if you turned into a bat you could use echolocation? I mean, if you had a book or something that went in depth on how the mechanics worked, and had a bat in front of you to poke around with." Though, wasn't Cal the only bat in the tower now? "Or is there some kind of a witchy way to do that? Seeing without actually seeing? I mean…eventually. Obviously not something I’m expecting you to pull out of that finely sculpted magical ass right now.”
Now his boyfriend was veering into familiar fix-it territory, albeit wrapped in jokes and light hearted fantasy. The underlying something to prevent this next time was hard to miss, and made Yasiel feel even more exhausted. What if there wasn't a next time because they'd never get their sight back? The suggestion went sour on the tongue before he could speak it.
Maybe he was the one at fault, ever-pessimistic and prone to assuming the worst. Yasiel grunted and smothered himself harder against the firm plane of Ford's chest. He wondered suddenly if he pressed his knuckles into his eye sockets if he'd see the usual bursts of colour in the wake of pressure, but made no move to do more than continue hiding.
“I hate this,” he breathed, the words muffled against Ford's t-shirt. “I'm so tired of this.”
Robbed of a major sense, it was hard to be as optimistic as he’d been recently. No skills or hobbies or any measures they’d taken to stay safe and out of trouble mattered now. Not when they were rendered helpless on a whim.
The swing and miss wasn't difficult to detect, the faint twinges of his anxiety rearing its head again slightly mollified by the sensation of a face burrowing its way into his chest. Like an unhappy xenomorph trying to return home. That would have been a much different, probably weirder movie.
"Me too," he admitted after a few seconds, and it was hard not to feel a little ashamed about it. As if letting that mask slip a little would cause both of them to descend into panic. Would talking about it make things worse? Would Yasiel feel any better knowing he wasn't really all that alone in his panic?
"I...sort of forgot what this was like. I can always see at least a little no matter how bad it gets. It's been a while." Had it really been decades? Maybe if he looked at it like some sort of novelty, like something he could only have really experienced when he was a human, he might feel weirdly better about it? Was that even possible?
"When I was a kid, like six or seven, the power went out during this really bad snowstorm," he started a little hesitantly, testing the waters. "Pre-Bess. Just me and mom." He shifted a little, wrapping a leg over Yasiel's and pulling him a little closer, tucking the blankets a little more firmly around them both until it was hard to tell that the heat between them was coming only from the witch. "We couldn't find the flashlights, but I had this little...tin robot guy that ran on batteries. The head would light up, and it could walk forward, but it had this little...kind of tv shape in its chest, and it would play pictures of space, and ships, and planets and the moon and...not animated or anything, just this one long piece of film with pictures on it. It would pan through like it was trying to be a movie. I loved that thing. I used to sleep with it, so when mom woke me up it was the one light source we really had. Which, really, was not fucking much."
In his mind's eye he could see the little image slowly turning in front of the small bulb, casting the faintest colored lights on the floor, on his blankets, on his fingers when he reached out to touch the little television shape on the toy's chest. A tiny, warm light that still felt familiar even after six decades.
"We stayed in the livingroom that night. Mom was worried I'd try to go down the stairs on my own in the dark, and the one bathroom we had at that point was down there, so it made sense." Off the kitchen. What a strange floorplan that had been before the slight remodel a few years later. "I remember us trying to find the flashlights and candles by robot-light, but it just wasn't enough." He paused, then laughed faintly, nuzzling the lower half of his face into Yasiel's hair, inhaling the smell of it. "We had a bat in the house. First one ever that we knew of. We didn't realize it until it started flying around, and my mom was not a fan of critters. We had to go find the broom and come back into the living room, but it was so dark we could only hear it when it moved. She didn't want it in the house, but she didn't want to open the doors because it would let all the heat out and we didn't know how long the blackout would last. I didn't want to open the doors because the bat would be stuck in a blizzard and that just seemed mean when all it wanted was to hang out and be warm. So we just kind of holed up on the couch and had this unspoken little truce until morning."
He realized he never actually knew what happened to the bat the next day. He'd woken up with the power returned and the little animal gone, like it had been a dream. He'd gotten peanut butter toast and fresh batteries for their robotic savior and then...business as usual? What had happened after? He couldn't really remember. "That...story didn't really have a point, just kind of wish we had a robot right now, I guess."
“It’s a cute story. I like hearing about little you.” Yasiel’s vampire was a layered creature. The uber confident, sexpot rockstar image he projected was only so thick before it gave way to the playful, compassionate man holding him. He’d never admit it, but there was something fascinating in hearing about Ford’s positive experiences being grown up. Yasiel liked to try and puzzle out how they’d shaped the man Ford was today.
Standing up for a stranded bat seemed very Ford-like, even though he’d been small. The habit of coddling the outwardly dangerous had always been there, it seemed.
Not that Yasiel was complaining about it currently. He was comfortable, kept, and safe where he was. For the moment, that was enough to keep panic at bay.
“We had that kind of situation a bit. With hurricanes.” He turned his face outward again, driven by a need to speak and also breathe. While he couldn’t see it, he could feel his lips brush brushing the stubble that coated the column of Ford’s throat and jaw, and the warmth that he’d already sunk into him reflected back at him. Why don’t we do this more often? he wanted to ask, but thought it might be taken poorly by both Ford and their captors—he was in no way asking to be blind more.
Yasiel pressed a kiss to Ford’s neck and rubbed his cheek against the spiky skin before continuing. “There’s always this part of the night where the power goes out and you’ve got fuck all to do. Sleep or read by candles or listen to the radio.” The bathtub would be filled and ready, and everyone had been warned not to open the fridge. A boring existence for a young man who wanted to be outside. “Sometimes in the mornings there would be weird animals in the trees. Or gators in the streets. They thought flooding meant their home got bigger, I guess.”
His story had no point either, Yasiel realised. “I’m glad we don’t have gators here,” he smirked, and made a playful chomping motion with his teeth against the curve of Ford’s jaw, dramatic noise included. “A robot might be helpful.”
Though knowing their captors, it would probably have lasers for eyes and shoot knives out of its mouth.
“About the seeing bit you mentioned earlier. Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have human senses again? Not this bullshit.” Yasiel laid his head down on Ford’s shoulder, open eyes staring blankly into nothing. “Would it feel wrong now? Or normal?”
Ford liked talking about little him, though it made him wish he could remember things a little more readily. He jumped a little at the nibbling, snorting out a delighted little laugh and squeezing in return. He'd seen gators before, but behind glass, in cages. Once in an overly large bathtub at a party. He couldn't quite remember whose. "I don't know if I could do a hurricane. Too much...chaos, I think. Blizzards are quiet. If you're prepared and you just stay put, you're pretty much fine. The only flooding you really need to worry about is if you don't let your pipes run."
He took a moment to consider the question, that what if that never really left the back of his mind for very long.
"Yeah," he said, finally. "I mean, I think about being human a lot. That sort of...return to normality is part of it." He'd definitely thought about it less now than he had before the tower, oddly enough when both the chances of it happening were likely as good as they might ever get with their captor's seemingly endless ability, and when he felt the most accepted for what he actually was.
"I think....I don't know if it would feel wrong, but it would definitely be weird. I'd have to learn how to do some things all over again." Another pause, and then a mild hum. "There are things I'd miss. The way sound moves, especially instruments. Pitches and thrumming and little things I'd never heard before I was a vampire. I'd sound weird to me for a while. I'd miss being able to smell you. Hear you." He smoothed a hand over the center of Yasiel's back, pausing to gently thrum his fingers between those warm shoulder blades to the beat of the witch's heart.
"I could get used to it, though," he finished a little more confidently. "I'd still be able to play. I can still shove my face at you whenever I want. It's not like your smell's going anywhere, I just have to work a little more for it. I'd miss the ceiling, though." His eyes cast upward, to the surface he knew was there even if he couldn't see it. "The feeling of just kind of hanging in space. Untouchable. Relaxed. There's not really anything I could do before that's comparable." Another pause, then a snort. "Unless space flight gets super fucking affordable. Or..." A faint delighted gasp, and a grin. "Could you reverse the whole heavy gravity thing you do? Make me light as a feather?"
Yasiel couldn’t hold back the immediate snort at Ford’s question. “And stiff as a board, love.”
“You can’t see it but I’m waggling my brows,” Ford announced with a laugh, performing the action even more vigorously, as if the energy alone could broadcast it. As if Yasiel didn’t know full well what that looked like either way.
The witch flexed his toes and shuffled his feet a bit, restless despite being surrounded by strong, comfortable limbs. Lying together like they were trying to merge into one sentient being was nice. They ought to do it more often, when the lack of sight didn’t make all his nerves feel raw and electric. Until then, Yasiel was at a loss of what to do. The innuendo would be easy to follow with a wandering hand or mouth, and Ford would no doubt be enthusiastic, but Yasiel didn’t find the appeal himself. Not when he hadn’t specifically chosen to have his sight taken.
“It would certainly be different, not to see you on the ceiling anymore,” he said instead, going back to Ford’s ruminating on being human again. If Ford were forced back into the confines of human limitation, would he change that much? He’d been championing potentially rabid and dangerous beasts since youth. Having to look after himself hadn’t seemed to affect that.
“You’d get tired much easier, wouldn’t you? And you’d have to stop and take care of yourself. No getting by with a bag here and there.” Yasiel let his eyes slip shut—not like it did him any good—and traced his fingers over Ford’s chest and the curve of his opposite shoulder. “But maybe you wouldn’t like eating normal food again. Maybe you’re spoilt with blood tasting like whatever you want,” he teased.
"I loved food," Ford replied with a note of uncertainty, not exactly disagreeing with the sentiment that there might be a small chance he wouldn't like it as much considering what he was used to. "I don't know. Maybe I'd have to work my way up to it again. Start with smoothies or something, but I was really excited when Linds made that pastry thing. I liked having the textures. I miss textures. And there are so many kinds of food I never got to try." Like Eggslut. Like any number of things Yasiel had grown up eating that Ford wanted to shovel into his mouth just so he could feel that much closer to the man. "And chicken wings." He groaned nostalgically before laughing. "I mean, I am spoiled, but there are some things you can only get when you have the real food in your mouth."
But getting tired more easily, that was something to consider. Getting older. Becoming someone new and old at the same time. Would he start from where he'd left off? Energetic and in his prime? Would the years of being undead somehow catch up with him in ways he couldn't anticipate?
"No more sexy vampire hunts. No more breaking out of magic holds to eat you alive. No more fucking on the walls," he added almost against his better judgment. He knew that wasn't the reason Yasiel wanted him, loved him, but that danger had always been part of the appeal, hadn't it? And he did like all of that, and was genuinely starting to crave it. Coping with himself being a human again was something he was sure he could handle, but how would their dynamic change if he wasn't a vampire anymore? Would he still be able to carry Yasiel around princess-style? Would he feel their difference in age more somehow? Hell, even the fact that he'd have to breathe would change more than a few things. Would Yasiel be disappointed?
"I'd have to get some new tricks," he finished after a pause, momentarily glad that it was a conversation they were having while Yasiel couldn't see his face, because he didn't quite know what it was doing.
“New tricks,” Yasiel agreed. “But not better ones. Only different.”
He’d spent months teasing the predator in Ford out of the proverbial closet. To lose it—and the opportunity for certain activities—would be disappointing in a way, but Yasiel didn’t need those things. “You’d still be my Ford. My lovely, compassionate, creative, amazing Ford.”
Yasiel’s face finally remembered that it was capable of smiling, a faint one overtaking his mouth as he felt for Ford’s cheek. “Beautiful, talented, and so much trouble.”
The tangent they’d gone on was a strange one, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. If They could change sight and blink Yasiel out of existence for several days, why not change how they’d been built? Yasiel brushed his tongue along the inside of his cheek, unsure if he should keep considering it. Having the supernatural playing field between them abruptly leveled would be a boon, but that meant Ford would be vulnerable. Not just to other supernatural beings, but ordinary diseases that could strike him down. Hadn’t his mother died of one?
“And I did ask Linds to make you more of those crepes. If we’re blind forever and you don’t get to eat them again, blame her,” he groused, happy to turn the subject back a few notches to something that didn’t involve Ford dying.
The sound Ford made was a little pathetic, but warm, touched, maybe a little sheepish. Even if Yasiel hadn't known exactly where the vampire's brain had wandered, which he very well might have, the reassurance had been so quick, so confident, that the reservations didn't have much room to fester. Yasiel knew him, and Ford loved this fucking man.
Different tricks. He could do that. They'd have the internet, and he'd have an old but fresh way to experience things. Maybe he'd enjoy the ropes in all new ways too.
Ford's laugh was bright and dopey at the mention of crepes, dragging a finger gently down Yasiel's face to pinpoint his mouth, leaning in to kiss. "That's so fucking sweet, thank you," he hummed delightedly, as if Linds hadn't already told him, wanting Yasiel to get those bonus boyfriend points. The fact that Ford had already asked didn't negate the fact that Yasiel had gone out of his way to request something lovely for him, and he wasn't about to ruin it. "They really were great. And maybe if we plan it right, her skills and yours, it could really be like we're eating the same thing sometime." Even if Yasiel wasn't a huge fan of sugary treats Ford was sure he’d opt in for the novelty alone. And their date that they would eventually, absolutely, go on. Dates as a human. Those would be amazing. Eating real food together. Lounging on beaches in the sun…
"I love you," he sighed, like the words had been impatiently waiting in the wings for their turn to tumble out. Another kiss and a laugh. "And we're not gonna be blind forever. I can't imagine any of this shit is much fun for those jerkbags to watch. They'll probably try to make us earn it back somehow. Or we'll wake up tomorrow and there'll be some stupid questionnaire about what we learned today, or some equally bullshitty bullshit." He paused, then snorted. "I learned that at some point my spatial awareness sort of instinctively figured out where the edge of the bed is. Which, not to toot my own horn, is really fucking useful right now."
“I love you, too.”
Yasiel was glad his face wasn’t visible, sure it was flushed now. Despite being the first to confess he still wasn’t entirely on the ball when it came to continuing to declare his affection. He felt like he forgot to say it most times, and when Ford did instead Yasiel felt caught between being goopy and dumb and struggling to say it back in a timely manner because that’s what you did, right?
“Quite impressive of you, this instinctual bed awareness,” Yasiel agreed, flaming cheek still pressed against Ford. “I might add that you always know where I am in the bed, because no matter which side, you always follow the heat.”
If Ford were a human, would he still do that? Would Yasiel get too hot to continue wrapping around him like a human-blanket-squid? Another what if for a time that didn’t involve blindness. He shifted, feeling restless again, and suddenly decided that he wanted to sit up.
It felt strange to move in any way without his eyes. Ford may have had the room mapped in perfect relief, but Yasiel was at a loss. As if his mind had erased every detail while in the throes of fright. He had vague notions of where the bathroom and doors were, but anything involving the moving of feet and potentially slamming them into things suddenly seemed too anxiety-provoking to be brave about it. Looping his arms loosely around his knees, he sighed and pressed his forehead against forearms.
“I’ve learnt fuck all, except that I’d like to strangle whoever did this.” The standard white coat, thick black framed glasses wearing, clipboard wielding egghead caricature he’d had in his head as a stand in for Them was well throttled in his mind. “What do you even want to do like this?”
"Because that's where you are. Of course I want to be there too," Ford half-heartedly argued, boyishly certain his subconscious knew that soaking in the warmth was entirely secondary to worming his way up and around his boyfriend. The mental image of a little cartoon him as a "cuddle-pire", sleepily entangling Yasiel in a web of possessive limbs, as if all of his senses were attuned to the witch even in sleep, hunting him for snuggles both caused him to laugh a little and made him wish he could doodle it out.
He was pulled out of that mental visual and back into darkness at the sensation of Yasiel sitting up, blinking in mild confusion. He waited for the bed to settle, indicating that the witch had stopped moving, then reached out a hand, lightly patting it across Yasiel's form to figure out what position he was in, along with a few extra touches for good measure. Strong back, solid arm, scruffy cheek, gentle tug to that stud in one warm, soft earlobe. Ford didn't sit up, instead opting to carefully shift around so his head was near Yasiel's thigh, his legs propped up against the headboard. He could almost feel the illusion of them facing each other this way. A little like the sensation he could remember toying with as a bored child in class, pointing a finger at the space between his eyes, hovering over the faint curve at the bridge of his nose without touching. Feeling that strange, tickling pressure like some kind of strange energy, and vaguely remembering that someone had once told him it had something to do with the electricity or static your body produced. He didn't know how true that was, it could just as well have been his brain trying to figure out where that finger toying with his vision actually was. Yasiel couldn't see him any more than Ford could in return, but maybe he could trick his brain into thinking the eyes on him were like that finger. Present and not present at the same time, or energy they could somehow beam at each other.
What did he want to do? What could they do?
"Well, bright side," he started after pondering for a few seconds. "Nobody's expecting anything from us today, and we have snacks in the closet, so technically we don't have to go anywhere. We know the room, and we know it's clean so navigating shouldn't be too hard. We could have lunch together." He'd have to be extra careful about spills, which would likely mean drinking from the bag today, and no special flavors, but that would be fine. "I can bring the guitar out, I could play that in my sleep." A thoughtful click of his tongue, and then, "we could Name That Tune here, oooor...Twenty Questions in the bathtub. I think Jurassic Park is still in the DVD player and I know the remote well enough to get it going, I think, if you want some background noise. We could send each other increasingly wild and stupid private messages to see if this whole text-to-speech thing can keep up. Oooo," he perked up, gently nudging his knee against Yasiel's side. "We could make the sad, automated dude read horrible sexts out loud."
The idea of sexts made Yasiel snort, and added on top of Ford’s gentle touches and assurances it broke through the melancholy that had settled over him in the last few minutes. He scrubbed his cheek against his knee with a measured sigh and then tilted his head towards the direction of his vampire’s voice.
“No sexts,” he said softly. “But I like all of the other ideas. Music first, maybe. Then a meal, then bath.” The things they enjoyed together could still be fun. It didn’t rely entirely on sight—though getting to watch that gorgeous face was certainly a plus. He’d just have to touch it a lot instead. “Once we’re done with that we’ll…” Trailing off, he pushed back another spike of anxiety. They’d find something else to do. Things would be alright.
Yasiel swallowed and tried to breathe evenly. “When I got locked in the crawlspace with Ari, he…he gave me blood to calm me down.” After strangling him out of hysteria, but that little detail wasn’t relevant to the story. “Do you think, if I get really bad, you could…?”
Well, that was certainly an unexpected stab of possessive anger. He could feel his shoulders tense, and once again was momentarily glad for the blindness disguising whatever flavor of frown his face was performing. On the list of things Ari had done, Ford had actually forgotten about the crawlspace. Not that it had actually been Ari's fault that one singular time, but the association, the knowledge of just how vulnerable and desperate Yasiel had been, was enough to cause a muscle under his eye to spasm.
"Of course I will," he promised firmly, as if there weren't a plethora of mental images of sending the bug-eyed vampire over various railings and out windows that led to limitless voids in his mind keeping his temper at bay. "I'll do anything you need." Because he would. Because maybe that was an association he could claim as his own. It wouldn't be Ari in the crawlspace if Yasiel needed a hit. Maybe that one time we were blind wouldn't be much more pleasant, but at least Yasiel liked the vampire involved. Loved the vampire involved. Trusted that vampire.
"Though," he added, the humor faintly trickling back in again. "If I get any cute stories out of you while you're under the influence, I reserve the right to turn them into doodles when the lights come back on."
A flood of affection washed over Yasiel the moment Ford promised to support him, warming him through with that wonderful sensation of being kept and cared for. Still strange, but getting more familiar.
“Deal.” He nodded even though Ford couldn’t see him. The idea that their sight coming back was a sure thing made him feel a little better. Maybe he could let something slip on purpose, just to cement it.
He sought out Ford’s face in the dark, clumsily palming the vampire’s entire head before feeling out his brows, nose, and finally mouth. “Thank you,” he said softly, followed by, “I love you.”
Still strange, again–but getting more familiar, too. He was grateful for the darkness, not entirely sure how goofy or flushed he might look in the moment. His fingers continued to skate around Ford’s face, gently stroking those stubbled cheeks and pushing into the fine strands of black he loved to toy with. “You want to get the guitar?”
The strange exploration of his head by that warm hand caused Ford's gut to unclench, Ari forgotten as he laughed and snaked his fingers over the witch's. He led it over his mouth so he could kiss the knuckles, and smiled. "Yeah, I'll get it."
And, just as he’d proclaimed, he knew right where the edge of the bed was when he got up. Navigating the rest of the room was another story.