randomosity strikes again

[maderr]

Hell, I doubt anyone even remembers Paisley and Malcolm. But, I do as bid. So here is random drabble #2 ^^



"So how did you get the name Paisley?" Malcolm asked, licking his fork before finally conceding that all the delicious dinner was well and truly gone. He dropped it on the plate and let Paisley take it away.

Paisley shrugged. "It began as a…nickname, I believe you would call it."

"Oh," Malcolm said. "So it's not your real name? What's your real name?"

"I do not remember," Paisley said, carefully washing and drying the dishes, putting them away in the cupboard, then moved back to the counter, refilling Malcolm's wine glass. "Paisley has been my name so long, and I had others between it and the name my mother gave me…" He shrugged again.

Malcolm blinked at him over the rim of his wine glass. He should probably stop drinking it soon, the wine was potent stuff – nothing like the cheap crap most people he knew drank, no this was wake up in a weird place in a dress and lipstick type wine. Dark red and what Paisley claimed was medium sweet.

He set it down slowly and smiled at Paisley, who looked more than a little amused. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asked.

Paisley laughed. "No, for I hardly need to do such to have my wicked way."

"Unless I'm misremembering," Malcolm said with a grin, leaning forward over the bar that still separated them, "you had your wicked way shortly before dinner."

The kiss he got was slow and thorough, far more intoxicating than the wine. Malcolm shivered at the teasing press of fangs against his lip, the tongue that followed in their wake, the way it turned into another hot kiss.

He was gasping for breath when they finally broke apart. "Yeah, so totally don't need to get me drunk."

Paisley laughed again. "Yet you are so adorable when the wine goes to your head."

"You are trying to get me drunk," Malcolm accused with a laugh, even as his cheeks heated at being called adorable. He picked the wine glass up and took a healthy swallow.

"There is chocolate cheesecake for dessert," Paisley said, pulling the promised dessert from the fridge. "It will go quite well with your wine."

"The vampire is trying to fatten me up," Malcolm said, then drank down more wine.

Paisley snorted and pushed a plate across the bar. "I have always preferred my meals on the lean side. Even as a human, I think I felt the same."

Malcolm paused at that, for Paisley rarely talked about his past – funny for a guy who preferred to live in old-fashioned style and went ballistic when the modern age was thrust upon him. "Pyscho Blonde said something once, back when he was trying to make me a snack, about you being a knight."

"Mm," Paisley said absently, wiping down the already pristine countertops. "I see many books referring to what I once was, though none of them truly handle the subject matter properly. The memories are hazy now, of course, but I used to be a Templar. Nothing so grand as those asinine books, I seem to recall most of my time was spent being quite bored and hungry." He frowned in thought, brow furrowed. "Yes, hungry and bored, or hungry and bloody. When I became a vampire, I recall thinking that at least starvation would no longer be a problem."

"Oh, man," Malcolm said with a laugh. "I bet you must really hate all the knight movies and stuff, then. We should go see one, just to see you flip out."

Paisley looked at him in confusion. "Movie? What the devil is a movie?"

Malcolm's jaw dropped. "Come on, man. A movie. Umm. Shit. Moving picture? You know, sit in a big dark theater, eat popcorn – well, okay, skip the popcorn bit – and watch the actors and stuff on the screen? Kind of like theatre but not classy or anything. In fact, pretty much the polar opposite of classy."

"Ah," Paisley said with a grimace. "Those wretched, stilted black and white atrocities where people move about with exaggerated posturing and facial expressions broken up by single sentences of dialogue? I saw one once about a sleepwalker. It was very nearly the most wretched thing ever inflicted upon my person."

"Black and—single sentence—" Malcolm doubled over laughing. "Oh, man! You haven't seen a movie since the silent film days?" He laughed all the harder, unable to stop even when he could positively feel Paisley glaring at him. "That's funny. Dude, we have got to take you to a good movie." He looked up and grinned. "Or maybe a really bad one."

Paisley sniffed in offense. "Why would you want to take me to a movie that you already know is bad?"

"Because then we can ignore the movie to make out in the back row," Malcolm said, emptying his wine glass. "I'm pretty buzzed, you could take advantage of me. In a dark, crowded theater. While imitation knights kill each other on screen. Or we could find a vampire movie. Whatever you want. We can rent them too, but you'd have to buy a TV and –"

He was cut off by a kiss, hard and deep and mm, yes, please, could he have another dozen?

"Let us go see one of your movies, then," Paisley said, licking Malcolm's lip before backing away a bit. "If it's too awful, I'll extract revenge upon our return home."

"Mm, revenge," Malcolm murmured, then slid off the barstool to go get ready and check movie listings. He stopped short. "Hey, this will be like the first time we've really gone on like a date." He smiled.

Paisley blinked, then slowly returned the smile, and tugged him back for another kiss. "Date. That is courting properly?"

Malcolm snorted. "Yeah, dork. Now let me go or we'll miss all the good bad movies."

"You make no sense," Paisley said fondly, but obediently released him after stealing another quick kiss. He reached up to touch his own hair, the dark blue ribbon holding it back. "Should I attempt to look more…" He grimaced. "Modern?"

"Nah," Malcolm said. "I like you old school sexy, and anyone who makes a comment can bite me."

"No, they may not," Paisley corrected, eyes flashing. "However, they may find themselves bitten."

Malcolm laughed, shaking his head, and raced off to get ready for their date.