"That's not. I mean, ah, never mind." She mistook his quip about the mascot suit, as an attempt to talk down to her. Rather than his was of avoiding the possibility of having something in common with her. It made her blush, embarrassed, as she used both hands to push her hair behind her ears. "There's less people at night," she explained, needlessly, with a shrug. "It gets colder, and you can see all the bio-luminescent bacteria in the surf. It's cool." 

    It was hard to ignore that he was lying to her, because he was noticeably bad at it. She would not be swayed, however. "Which thrift store?" she tested. She didn't know why she felt like the was running the obstacles in some sort of gauntlet. She didn't know what exactly she was trying to prove. She was doing it anyway, though. "The one by that bank on Whitewood?" She offered this location as an out, because there was a very good chance he did not actually shop at thrift stores.  

    "That's not what I am talking about," she said, wondering if he intentionally misunderstood her. He was trying to push her away while getting closer to her at the same time, and she was doing her best to act like it wasn't confusing her. She assumed that if he really didn't want to be around her, he wouldn't be. But then he hugged her back, and used phrases like 'not here.'

    "You've also lectured me on how you're too old for me, and how this isn't worth it," she ticked points off on her fingers. "Oh, and that somewhere out there, there is some abominably boring, man-child my age, probably studying mathematics or literature or something that would be so much better for me."  

    She watched him wipe away her marking with faint amusement. She was quiet, just like he had pleaded her to be practically the entire evening She sipped water and shifted her gaze between him and the room. She probably didn't have to look so smug about it. He was correct in thinking her expression would change if he spanked her, but it honestly wouldn't be by much.  

    She ate her taco in silence, proving that she could be just as insufferable when she was doing what she was told.

    That gave him pause. "You go to the beach at night to look at the bacteria?" He didn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been that. Least not from a history major. That sounded more like a science thing. Not that she wasn't allowed to like more than one field of study. It just wasn't the usual combination. English, or anthropology, maybe. Sometimes political science.

    He was making a lot of assumptions based on a weird preference.

    "The… yeah. That's the one." He hadn't been to a thrift store since he first moved, and he'd just gone to Goodwill to buy a couch. Was there even a thrift store there? He should have said the shirt was a gift, instead. That would have been much more plausible, assuming she believed he had friends.

    "Those weren't lectures," he protested, despite a suspicion that they were. "Those were just facts. Being presented verbally. And I did not say anything about boring manchildren. I'm boring. If you dislike boring, that's a point against me."

    The people who worked here knew better by now than to give him anything but a pile of meat and sliced avocado on corn tortillas, with an equal or greater amount of fruit salad. No cheese, no salsa, not even beans and rice. It made him look like a picky child, but he'd rather look spoiled than deal with the indigestion. He enjoyed the brief respite as they ate in silence, despite his certainty that she was actually trying to give him some kind of silent treatment. It wouldn't last, anyway. He ate mostly with his fingers, which was more an issue for the fruit than for the tacos; he sucked melon from a fingertip, eyes kept carefully to his plate with rare and wary deviations in her direction.

    He didn't know why he was so nervous. Tacos were not a sexy food, regardless of who was eating them.

    She blushed harder because when he repeated it back to her it sounded ridiculous. She tried to hide the crimson flare across the bridge of her nose with her hands, and hoped that the rest was obscured by darkness. "Do you not?" She retorted, trying to make it sound like the most natural thing in the world. She dropped her hands again, so she didn't sound so muffled. "There's a cove where the current isn't so rough. You can walk out into the water and it lights up around you. I dunno. It's pretty."

    She laughed quietly, shaking her head enough to make a point, but not to send her hair flying. "You're an awful liar," she said, like he didn't already know. "This just in," she begins, cheerful tone rendered staccato with intermittent chuckles. "Huge nerd refuses to admit he's a bigger nerd than cute girl originally thought. Full story at midnight." 

    She made strange, unintelligible noises of protest, as she waved her hands around like she was trying and failing to come up with words. "You are boring," she agreed, finally. "But, like you're not? I don't really know how to describe it. I just-" she made a few more of the same frustrated noises. "I just like you. It's hard to explain." 

    Increasingly difficult to come up with reasons why, because it wasn't like they spent time outside of his classroom. They didn't have lengthy personal conversations. Which made it very difficult to expect someone to believe that you had feelings for them, that were completely legitimate and not superficial. At some point she should explain that she wasn't just fetishizing the fact that he was a vampire, but she wasn't just going to blurt it out unprovoked. For the moment it remained unsaid. 

    She ignored him in favor of her free taco. Grilled chicken and onions on a flour tortilla because she didn't like corn. There was something satisfying in the simplicity of it, just a sprinkling of cilantro and lime. Not like the overwhelming concoctions Melanie talked her into consuming from the Taco Bell near their apartment. 

    When she finished, she leaned back in the seat again and wiped her fingers off on napkin. She started on the churro shortly after. Still, impressively quiet and finding plenty of things to keep her attention occupied. Mostly, because watching someone eat was weird and awkward. 

    No one should have been able to look so complacent while nibbling on a churro. 

    It was hard not to stare at the way her skin went flush, even while she tried to hide her blushing. He couldn't exactly smell it, except that he sort of could, the unique and peculiar allure of blood. "I'll have to take your word for it," he said, even if she did make it sound lovely. Anything to get her off of a subject that made her blush like that, whatever her reasons may have been.

    "I am a history professor," he said, not for the first or last time. "Of course I'm a nerd. The hugest. Enormous. It's one of the reasons I'm so boring! There is no aspect of my being which is not boring." He sighed, raking fingers through his hair. Except for the fact that he was dead, that he ate people, which was not at all something he was interested in having be an attractive thing about himself. "You only find me interesting because you're attracted to me."

    That sounded patronizing as hell. Was it impossible to be old and not patronizing?

    "You don't have to explain it. You feel how you feel. Don't…" He sighed. He was fucking this up again. Explaining how ridiculously fleeting and absolutely not worth it attraction was to someone under thirty was impossible. And it sounded insulting, to boot. "Don't worry about it." He silenced himself with food, looking much more disgruntled than anyone should with a taco.

    "You should check it out sometime," she suggested with a shrug. She had settled for a more subtle approach, by not immediately saying that they should go together. When she looked up at him, he was staring, so naturally she stared back. She hoped to convey with her expression that he was not doing as good of a job of being subtle as she was. 

    "You do remember that I am a history major, right?" She watched the way he dragged fingers through his hair, and immediately wanted to do the same. She wanted to touch him more, she couldn't help and she could feel want tingling in her fingertips. "I like boring," she pointed it out, making it sound obvious. "I'm over exciting. Boring is better," she explained with a contented sigh. Not that he knew the reasons why. Not that she would explain, unprovoked, that she had gotten plenty of excitement as the pawn of two well-known super villains. 

    Veronica eventually let her gaze drift back to him. She was trying to keep her expression neutral, but there was a slight furrow to her brow that suggested she was hurt, or offended. "Do you really think I'm that shallow?" she asked, quietly as her gaze dropped to where she was neatly folding the leftover paper wrapping to her churro. "Or that I'm so incapable of understanding how I feel about someone?"

    She hadn't meant for the smallest waver to make it way into her voice. She had successfully been calm and flippant the entire evening. Trying to prove that she wasn't bothered by what he had told her on the phone. To fake that her feelings weren't hurt, and that she could totally handle being around him. She thought that he looked trapped and miserable. This felt like a disaster. She discarded the wrapper back into the basket her food had come in and brushed cinnamon and sugar from her fingers. "I don't worry about it," she centested, busying herself with sips of water.

    "I mean. Like. My feelings aren't any less valid just because I also like your face."

    He averted his eyes when she started to stare back. He didn't even have hunger as an excuse this time. Sugar was supposed to be helping, but it wasn't. It would be so much easier if they could just be friends. Slightly distant friends. Distant enough that he wouldn't be tempted to fuck her again.

    A different time and a different place, and he would have been happy to do whatever this was. Make a go at some kind of relationship, however long it lasted, however soon it fizzled out. Now he just had to wallow in his mistake, ruining his chance at something in the future for the sake of something he couldn't even have.

    "You're the one that brought up boring like it was a bad thing," he reminded her. He was getting the feeling that there was nothing he could say that would dissuade her. Not that she would admit, anyway. He could frame the situation however he liked to be unflattering, but there wasn't any middle ground. Either she liked him too much, or she hated him.

    "That wasn't what I meant," he said. "Attraction isn't shallow. That isn't what I meant. I'm not trying to invalidate your feelings."

    Just her judgment. Just her ability to see her for what he was, and not whatever it was that she wanted him to be.

    "I'm making this worse." He stood, chair scraping against the floor as he gathered up his trash. "It's late," he said, even if it wasn't for him. "I'm just going to go." He headed toward the door and the trash can beside it, and told himself he wasn't running. This was slightly more salvageable than it had been before, and he wanted it to stay that way. Before he said something really stupid.

    "No, no, no," she interrupted. "That's different boring. Wrong boring," she tried to emphasize her point with her hands. Even though she didn't really have a point, and was just backtracking because he'd totally called her out. "Mathematics are stupid," she mumbled for good measure. 

    Her determination probably would have been admirable to anyone that wasn't him. She should have given up on whatever this venture was a long time ago, but here she was as persistent as ever. 

    "Then what do you mean?" she asked, cocking her head and frowning at him. "Insofar your main goal has been to invalidate my feelings." This would be so much easier if he would just say what he actually meant, instead of dancing around some non-issue. She just wanted to know how he actually felt, and not just a recitation of what he thought he should feel. 

    Her shock was visible as he was suddenly standing. Determined not to be left behind as he literally ran away from her she stood, abandoning her own trash in the process and trying not focus on how rude that was. "Are you seriously just going to run away from me?" she accused, voice pitching higher; heel snapping as she trailed after him. She was fighting a losing battle. Trying to win someone who didn't want to be won.

    "Would you just talk to me?" Green locks were starting to float and curl around her face, when she reached to grab his elbow. She couldn't actually stop him, if he didn't want to be stopped, but she hoped he would. "What is this really about?" she asked, brushing hovering strands out of her face with her other hand. "Like, really, really about? Am I that hard to be around?"

    This was turning into a scene. So much for quitting while he was ahead. "I'm not running." He grabbed the wrist of the hand that reached for him so that he could pull her outside with him, into the dark and away from anyone that could eavesdrop.

    He let her go and rubbed his hand over his face, his other hand on his hip. "I'm not going to clarify myself," he said. "I've tried that. It doesn't work. Obviously it doesn't work. Just think whatever you want." He ran both his hands through his hair with a vigor suggesting he was on the verge of ripping it out of his scalp. "And don't bother telling me that you want the truth," he added, dropping a hand to point a finger at her. "I've tried that already, and I think you've made it pretty clear that's not what you want. I don't know what you want, except for what we can't have."

    He wasn't the one who made the rules. He wasn't even on the committee that voted on suggested rules. He had no idea how to even begin convincing her that it wasn't worth it, without making her feel as if she was the one who wasn't worth it. The fact that no one was worth it, as far as he was concerned, wouldn't soften that blow at all.

    It was getting more and more tempting to compel her. Stop liking me, don't be attracted to me, forget that we had sex. God only knew how that might backfire.

    You are running, she would have argued had he not taken her by the wrist. She took short, quick steps to keep up with his determination in her heels. When he released her, she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. They clinched into fists, once they were hidden by the material. A testament to her misplaced anger and her desire to touch him. 

    Her shoulders hunched, as he lectured her. She would have gone as far to say he was scolding her if she ever retold the story of this exchange. Not that she would. She didn't look at him as he continued. The only indication that was actually listening was the frown on her face and the hovering curls she couldn't get under control. 

    She wanted to smack away the finger he was pointing at her, but she didn't budge. 

    It finally occurred to her that she may have been acting selfish. Forcing her presence and the things she wanted onto Michael. When he very clearly had different notions. She lifted her face to turn that frown at him, inhaling sharply as if she had some thought of some biting comeback. Instead, she pressed her lips together so tightly that her piercings nearly came together. She made a thoughtful noise, as her expression melded into something less hostile.

    "Fine," she responded, curtly, only moments after a silence had fallen between them. "Fine," she repeated with an emphasis that did nothing to clarify what exactly was fine. She took a few steps backward, so she could make a wide circle as she walked around him. 

    She turned to walk backwards a few paces, suspiciously close to floating. "I don't want anything from you," she said, almost defiantly. As if unwilling to admit she'd finally been defeated. She spread her hands in a gesture of surrender, flaring her jacket around her hips since they were still tucked inside the pockets. 

    "Thanks for the tacos," she continued, still walking away from him. "See you on Thursday, or whatever." She turned around, continuing on in the direction of the other strip mall and their cars. 

    He might have left it at that, if they hadn't both been parked at the record store. If they hadn't both had a walk back in the same direction. "You're clearly not fine," he said, and it would be easy to interpret the walk back to his car as following her. "You're not a very good liar, either."

    Not about this, anyway.

    "If you didn't want something, we wouldn't be here like this, would we?" Angry at each other, again, arguing in a parking lot and looking for all the world like an actual couple and not a professor and his student. "We can't keep doing this, this -- I try to do something, and you want more." The gulf between the inch he gave and the mile she seemed to want. "It's not enough that we spend time together, it has to be a date, you say I should kiss you, you keep pushing and throwing tantrums when I don't give way."

    There was probably a more diplomatic way to phrase that.

    "What am I supposed to do on Thursday? Pretend nothing happened, business as usual, while you pout? Try to be nice and have you flirting again? Because I'm not happy about either of those, but only one of them is going to get me fired." His eyes were still blue, a clear sign that he wasn't actually angry; he was just frustrated, sick of talking past each other.

    "You keep saying you understand, but every time I say something that isn't what you want to hear you take it as a personal insult. Do you think I like doing this? Do I sound happy to you?"

    "I am terrible liar," she agreed, not turning around to look at him. Completely aware that he had to follow her, due to the circumstances of their parking situation. "That's why I typically don’t bother."

    A poor excuse for her poor behavior. Fawning over him and baiting him when was just trying to be a decent person. 

    "I only said it was a date as a joke." Entirely true, though that didn't negate the fact that she had wanted it to be. Wanted some indication that he had feelings for her even though he shouldn't. Conveniently ignoring what he was actually trying to say. Her hand finally reappeared from her pockets, but only to slide a cigarette between her lips and light it. One remained to flick ash when needed but the other was gone again. 

    "Then just let me pout," she suggested, exhaling smoke with her words. She was channeling her anger and disappointment into being too agreeable. Too flippant. "I'm not trying to get you fired," still walking, still talking, still smoking. Forcing him to follow, to keep up if he wanted to talk to her. Not that it was out of his way to do so. "Maybe, I won't even pout. I did a good job of pretending I wasn't into you before we fucked." She waved her hand, smoke trailing from the cigarette between her fingers. 

    She stopped at that. Turning around suddenly enough that he could have run into her. "I don't know what you like," she exclaimed, throwing both hands into the air. Her hair had settled but she still appeared defeated when she looked up at him. "You never sound happy," she continued, pushing her free hand into her hair. Her cigarette was mostly forgotten. 

    "I just wanted to change that," she sighed, dragging her hand from her hair and dropping it to her side. Stupid, near thoughtless, reasoning she'd had behind that idea. 

    "I do understand," she admitted, lifting the cigarette to mouth once more. She sighed again, lowering her gaze from his. "I'll stop." 

    "I know you're not," he sighed, trailing behind her. Just because she wasn't trying didn't mean she wouldn't do it. He didn't think she did that good of a job, actually. Although at the time he'd assumed he was projecting. Wanting her to be as attracted to him as he was to her. Ready to pounce the first time she made it obvious.

    God, he'd made a huge mess of things.

    He came to a stop, too close to her, but anything would be too close to her. She made it sound so sweet, that all she'd wanted was to make him happy. As if he'd ruined a gift she'd tried to give him. A hand beneath her chin kept her from tilting her face away.

    "I am not your project," he said, as gently as he could. "Happiness is for the living." He let her go to take the cigarette from between her fingers, taking a drag without asking. "I like things that are bad for me," he said, words exhaled with smoke. He offered it back to her rather than keeping it or putting it out, even if that would have been a favor. "That's why I'm dead now. Learn from my mistakes."

    He might have protested that he was perfectly happy during lectures, but that wasn't true. Lectures were something he had to get through. He didn't know how he'd go about sounding happy. When he read, when he listened to music, he didn't say anything at all. Better to accept that he was old and miserable and couldn't be fixed.

She'd tried to make him happy, and all she'd gotten for her trouble was depressed. Maybe if she gave up it would cheer her up again. He wanted her to be happy, too; the difference was she'd been doing just fine before he'd shown up.

    "You don't have to worry about me in class," she clarified, tipping ash onto the sidewalk. "I was just taking advantage of the fact that we were alone." And making things worse while she was at it. As if forcing herself on him was going to make him change his mind.

    It was difficult to keep the bitter thoughts from sneaking in. He already had what wanted. No need to waste time with anything else. 

    Project. That made it sound so selfish. That had not been her attention, despite her behavior otherwise. She was not here to 'fix the vampire'. This was not a challenge. She let him retrieve the cigarette without protest, keeping her eyes on his. 

    "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," she responded, somehow managing coherent words over the repetitive mantra that was left in her head by fingertips on her chin. Touch me, touch me, touch me it echoed like the ghost of a touch beneath her jaw. "Everyone deserves to be happy," she argued. When he handed the cigarette back, she let it fall to the ground. "Everyone likes things that are bad for them. You're not the exception just because you're a vampire."

    She shifted her weight, and tucked her hands back into her pockets. She looked away from him briefly, and then back again. As if struggling for what to say, or what to do. He was close enough that she could smell him, she would have felt his warmth if he'd had any. "I can't learn from your mistakes because I don't know them," she said, softly. She took a tentative step closer as she spoke. She didn't need to know them, because she was very capable of making bad decisions on her own. 

    She bumped into his chest like she would hug him again, but she didn't wrap her arms around him like she had before. She pulled her hands from her pockets and dropped them at her sides. "Let me make my own mistakes."

    Tall enough in dangerous heels, that when she lifted her face, she could press her lips to his. It was nothing more than her lips against his, and she kept her hands to herself. It was a bad idea - a terrible idea, and she would likely get the lecture of her life he ever spoke to her again, but she couldn't resist kissing him at least once. 

    "I doubt it's the dumbest," he said. "You were a freshman once." He watched the cigarette fall with a raised eyebrow. She was going to regret the waste when she ran short. Or maybe she wouldn't. Maybe it was worth it to her not to have her mouth where his had been. He hadn't even considered that, preoccupied with trying to adopt a comforting sense of familiarity and look cool

    "Everyone?" he wondered. He could think of a few people he wasn't sure deserved to be happy, even aside from himself. A few of his more irritating students, for instance. They could afford to be unhappy for a few years. "What about vegans?" That could have been in reference to happiness or to liking things that were actually good for them, really.

    He shouldn't have let her come closer. Shouldn't have let her chest press against his, soft warm skin and the smell of blood and life and cigarette smoke. Shouldn't have let her make another mistake.

    His hands went to her shoulders, but it was too late. The moment her lips touched his he was no longer trying to hold her at a distance, fingers tightening as he pressed his mouth against hers in return. He didn't mean to close his eyes, to kiss her back, to kiss her at all; his lips against hers for a moment, and then another, again and again until his tongue was tasting hers and if he didn't stop–

    He shuddered as he tipped his head to pull their mouths apart, his forehead touching hers, fangs elongated but now harmless.

    God, she smelled good.

    "I was a freshman. Once," she agreed, trying not to smirk. Trying not to be at all amused by his attempts to play it cool because she was still mad at him. "And that's how I know that is unequivocally the dumbest thing I've ever heard." This was a terrible time for jokes, but here was she was making them, because somehow he'd almost diffused her bad mood without even trying. 

    The worst of it was he was probably completely serious, and had not at any point been attempting to make a joke. 

    "Okay, not vegans," she conceded without thinking. "They deserve to miserable with their tofu and their kale and whatever. Vegans are literally the worst." Which was quite the title to earn in a city that was brimming with notorious super villains. 

    Her hands had gone to his waist as he kissed her. Curling into his shirt as if it were possible to pull him any closer. She had not expected him to kiss her at all, let alone so eagerly. She matched his enthusiasm, whimpering soft noises of protest when he pulled away. She was left breathless and dazed, at the abrupt ending. 

    She wanted more, but she would always wanted more of him. She should have been cutting herself off, like he was some sort of drug, but she just kept going back for more. 

    Forcing her eyes open, she looked to where his were still closed. A faint darkness surrounded them. She remained pressed against, him, but her hands left his shirt to cradle either side of his face. "This is really what it's all about, isn't it?" She asked quietly, one thumb gently traced his top lip, where she could see the press of fangs. "This is why you don't want to get close to me?"