Maybe Just A Bite

002

            There's an old stool in the breakroom that Knox always pulls out for his night shifts. It's a rickety old thing, with uneven legs and stubborn clearance tags clinging to the wood. Once every few months his manager will get onto him for sitting on the clock, as if his ability to scan beer and punch in gas was somehow hindered by the sitting position. For about a week he'll comply, but once he's off their radar again he returns to his perch.

That's how he is now, back stiff and ass aching as he reviewed his notes. His parents had insisted upon him majoring in business and administration, and he feels like he's going to lose it if he looks at another supply and demand graph. As it was he's taking an advanced economics class, and he's doomed to be tortured with squiggly lines for the rest of his life. He's thankful when someone walked in, pushing his three-ring binder to the side, and greeting the customer with an enthusiastic "hello". Well as enthusiastic as one can manage at three in the morning.

He's promptly ignored as the customer disappeared into the restroom.

Knox slumped down again when they're out of sight, willing his brain to make sense of the messy words he's written during lecture. The person leaves a few minutes later without so much as buying anything, and he's left to his own devices again. It's in moments like these that he regrets taking this job, bored out of his mind and internal clock encouraging him to sleep. The space beneath the counter looks more inviting with each passing second, and he fights the urge to at least lay his head down.

He forces himself to perk up when the door opens again, mouth automatically opening to voice his usual greeting. He stops mid-hello when he recognizes one of the two men. It'd been eleven days since the Incident (as he'd begun to call it in his head), and he hadn't expected to see from either vampire again. They'd repaid him generously in groceries, ones that he was still working through, and there was no reason for their paths to cross again.

"Oh, hey, Knox." August blinked, as if surprised to see him.

"Hi." He squeaked, cursing internally because it wasn't strange for them to be in a gas station, and he didn't need to make it weird. The man with August, likely a vampire too, was massive, standing behind him like a bodyguard. His eyes were amber, much like Valentine's had been, though not nearly as bright. They were much a deeper, seeming to bore right through him, void of any of the softness Valentine's had held. Knox fought the urge to cringe away from the vampire's scary gaze.

"You two know each other?" The vampire's voice is smooth, and Knox takes notice of the possessive arm sliding around August's waist, even as he leaned forward to extend his free hand. "I'm August's boyfriend, Nash."

"Stop being douchey." August grumbled, pushing Nash away. The annoyed look on August's face is clearly teasing though, tone laced with fondness as he sets Knox with an exasperated look, "Knox, this protective grandpa is one of my nestmates, Nash. Nash, this is Knox, the human who helped me the other week."

"This is the human who was stupid enough to invite a thirsty vampire into their home?" Nash questions, expression changing to that of curiosity as he regarded him, "Do you have a death wish or something, Knox?"

"Are you sad that he helped me? I would be a pile of ash in a dingy alleyway if it weren't for him, you know."

"Of course not, baby," Nash amended, kissing August's temple and sending Knox a grin, "I am very grateful for Knox's suicidal tendencies."

It was clear that they were grossly in love, and suddenly Knox missed the squiggly red and blue lines of his supply and demand graphs. At least they didn't remind him how painfully human and single he was. He tried for a small, maybe a little uncomfortable smile, but he was sure it was more a grimace than anything, "Haha, right. It's nice to meet you Nash."