Dog Fights

Chapter 9; First Impressions

"Will your parents allow me in your house?"

Leon glances down, observing his own hand. He holds loosely onto Ezra's forearm, the warmth of his touch seeming to keep the peace.

"I don't see why not," he says, pulling close and making Ezra glance away, "they're not disrespectful of anyone, they're just protective."

"Understandable," Ezra says, flexing his healed fingers. Leon holding onto his arm calms his boiling nerves, making him stand up a little straighter and pay more attention as they walk.

"Are you alright?" Leon asks, tilting his face down. Ezra looks over, only half a foot away.

"I'm alright," he says, pausing before drawing in a breath, "but can I ask you to do something for me?"

Leon furrows his eyebrows, looking back at the sidewalk. "Depends what it is," he says, kicking at an empty fast food bag.

Ezra runs his tongue over his teeth, smoothing down his shirt with rough fingertips. "The silver collar, the one from when we first met," he says, making Leon hum in acknowledgment, "when we get back to your house, will you put it on?"

Leon looks up, startled by the request. "What?" he asks, watching red eyes glance up at him, "why?"

Ezra swallows, looking back to the glowing traffic lights and signs. "When you hugged me, my face went into your neck," he says quietly, not even the twisting of his stomach stopping the flush from stinging his face. "I could feel your pulse, and smell you- I just can't get that out of my head and it's-"

"Ezra." Leon cuts him off, letting his hand slide down into Ezra's so he can squeeze it. Neither draw attention to itas he struggles between showing no emotion and letting guilt glint briefly in his eyes.

He hasn't felt guilty in a long time.

"When was the last time you had human blood?" Leon asks, keeping his voice quiet.

Ezra hesitates. "A few days ago," he says quietly, "it was a blood bag Amelia and Clover gave me the first day I was with them. I wasn't healing and hadn't had anything for a month before that."

Leon looks up, eyebrows furrowed down. "That's it?" he asks, surprised by the response. "How have you not felt hunger before this? From most of what I read, you should be pretty uncomfortable by now."

Ezra takes a deep breath, keeping his tone flat in his throat. "These last few days have been chaotic. I guess my body has just been focused on survival rather than hunting," he says, "that, and I'm used to living off practically nothing."

"...Alright," Leon agrees finally, "I'll put it on. Maybe that'll help my parents feel better too."

He pauses, the life of the city filling the hesitant silence. "You," Leon starts, clearing his throat before starting again, "you don't think you'd turn on me, do you?"

"No," Ezra says, no hesitation behind his words, "I won't. I'm not even close to that point yet. I'm just far enough to make seeing the color red a little distracting."

Leon nods, humming to himself as he tilts his hand and laces his fingers between Ezra's. "I'm going to have to warn you," he says, changing the subject, "I haven't brought anyone back to my house in a while; my parents will probably get in your face. And when they see all your fangs-"

"Questions?" Ezra asks, letting a small smile splay on his face as Leon looks over at him.

"Well, when you smile like that it makes it easier to see them," Leon laughs, hugging Ezra's jacket around himself in the cool night air.