Mmmmmmm, I'm writing this at school and it's kinda just a mind dump bcuz I feel like more Mars content tbh. I may use Mars in dif fics and he may act slightly different in those but ye ✨ :] it's also in Mars' POV btw! Still kinda third person but mainly centered around Mars and his thoughts!!
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Mars slept a lot, it was kind of an escape for him but also, he slept because he was always so creative that his dreams were so vivid they seemed real. He can't count the times on one hand that he dreamt up that Smitty lived with them and thought he had just gone out until John got on call with him and there he was, all the way in Canada like he always had been. Which is why the first few times when he woke up to Smitty living with them he was sure he was dreaming but nope, Smitty was living with them now and he eventually got used to waking up to the chatter of Smitty and John across the hall that carried to his first floor bedroom and awoke him from his peaceful slumber. Today was like any other for Mars, he woke up to the smell of breakfast and music playing in the kitchen as John made breakfast and Smitty chatted his ear off as he cooked. Everything was in place but it was raining, that was odd. The forecast said it would be clear today. That should have been Mars' first indication that something was up but he didn't consider being bothered by the sudden change in the weather from the usually accurate forecast. Standing up from the makeshift bed that was more of a nest on a mattress on the floor he stretched and cracked his back as he walked into the kitchen. His second red flag, but the first he cared to notice, was that John wasn't wearing what he was usually wearing. Every morning he wore shorts and some random T-shirt he altered. This 'morning' it was sweats and no shirt. "That's not right..." Mars thought, glancing over at Smitty who didn't even look at him. That also wasn't normal. Smitty was always so enthusiastic to greet 'the sleepy boy of the house'. Clearing his throat nobody looked up at him and when he looked down Mars saw that he was transparent. "Am I a ghost?" Was what Mars thought. Mars liked that idea, he liked being a ghost. The thought of being able to meander around unseen was something he liked to think about, always thinking about what he would and wouldn't do if he was permanently transparent. Strolling over to one of the cabinets he opened it and slammed it shut, gaining a start from the two men. After the sudden shock they glance at each other and smile.
"I guess our little ghost is awake now." John said to Smitty and Mars blinked. They knew about him, they openly lived with him. Is this why he still had his room? It wasn't the first time Mars had an odd dream like this. One of his favorite dreams, that he would never tell either of them, is when he is a vampire. He was their vampire and they let him feed on them. But it wasn't painful for them, in this dream it brought them pleasure. His bite was something they craved from him and they let him feast on their blood when they would have sex. That was another reason he liked that string of dreams. He liked the fact that his dream was so vivid that he could practically feel it when he woke up. He knew it wasn't real but the thought was nice. Back to this dream, they knew about him and he wondered what else he could do. Walking, well- more like floating, over to John he places a hand on his shoulder and John shivered. John shivered, the feeling of Mars' cold hand on his shoulder. The cold hand on his shoulder belonged to Mars. The soft little gasp that escaped his lips was delicious to Mars. A mischievous smile formed on the man's ghostly lips and he took his hand away from John's shoulder, he was met with a small sigh of disappointment at the loss of the cold contact on his shoulder. Although John yelped when Mars put his cold hand onto the small of the other man's back. Smitty looked over and rolled his eyes.
"Is he putzing with you?" He asks John, who nodded, shivering. The reaction John had at his touch was something Mars relished in. Mars had never thought of this being a possibility if he were to ever turn into a ghost, but hey, he can't complain. The dead, transparent man went to place his lips on the nape of John's neck, dying to see his reaction to that. Just inches away from the trembling man's neck he breathed onto the expanse of skin beneath his lips, earning a whine and another shiver. Breakfast had been long forgotten as Mars moved closer to John's neck. He finally connects his cold lips to the bare skin and-
