Date Night
By: Alan Russo

Neal and Patrick huddled beneath a black umbrella as the rain poured from the London's night sky. It was an uneven scene as one was a tall black man, while the other was a short, skinny Caucasian guy. But that did not matter to them as they became a couple, but they both agreed that work would always be their top priority.

Because of that the two had not seen each other for weeks due to work but called frequently and had agreed to have a date night once they were back in the country. Tonight, was that night, as despite the fact that Neal wanted to stay in because of the storm and just Netflix and Chill, Neal was hellbent on going out and would see none of it.

The two lovers walked underneath the Welcome to Carnaby Street sign and in that moment, it seemed as if the red, yellow, green and blue buildings lit up under the streetlamps that aligned the sidewalk.

"So, what sound good for supper, Patty," Neal said playfully and with a half smirk, he knew that Patrick hated being called Patty.

Patrick was a manly man, broad, strapping masculine, and had done horrible things to men who called him less.

"You wanna get hurt don't you," Patrick growled as he squinted in his lover's direction.

"Ooh beehave," Neal responded and tapped the tail of his tie on Patrick's nose.

Patrick groaned and asked in a deep commanding voice, "What do you want for dinner?"

Neal huffed and replied, "As long as it is vegan I am okay."

"Christ, not the vegan bit again," Patrick said under his breath. "Neal. Love, we have talked about this, more times than I can remember to be honest."

"What?" Neal asked.

"Neal, our kind cannot be vegan. It is physically impossible," Patrick explained. "It just cannot be done."

Neal paused where he stood and arched an eyebrow at Patrick for a moment before he said, "What are you talking about, Pat? I know plenty of queer vegans. Remember Danny from Greenbay? You know the cute little checker?"

"Yeah what about him," Patrick asked annoyed.

"Hello," Neal said sarcastically. "He is queer and vegan, which makes him a… queer vegan."

"That is not what I'm talking about," Patrick said and then paused as an elderly couple walked by the two and gawked at Neal who was dressed in a pink three-piece suit.

Subconsciously he frowned at their reactions, Patrick had always wanted to keep a low profile for many reasons, the less attention the better was his motto. Neal turned and looked back at the elderly couple and smiled. After his gesture was reciprocated with a scowl, Neal blew them a kiss. Horrified they rushed away from the couple.

"Aw. Sweet old couple," Neal said with his hands on his hips as we watched them scurry away. Still with a smile, turned back to Patrick and asked, "You think we will be that cute when we're that age?"

Patrick met Neal's smile with a frown.

"What?" Neal asked innocently.

"Why did you have to wear the pink suit," Patrick huffed. "You know how I feel about bring attention to us."

"I beg your pardon," Neal flared with his chest stuck out and with his hands on his hips. "This my good sir is Salmon, not pink."

Patrick shook his head in frustration.

"Look. Would it make you feel better if I ran over there and killed them real fast," Neal said with puppy dog eyes. "Would that make you feel better?"

Patrick glared down at Neal with angry beaming from his eyes. "How the hell would you killing to old farts make me happy?"

"Okay, you do it then, I'll set back and watch," Neal giggled. "You know how I like to watch from time to time."

"We are not going to kill anyone," Patrick exclaimed. "Besides, neither of use brought back up clothes after transformation. And, Heaven forbid something happens to your precious pink suit."

"Still salmon." Neal corrected.

Patrick knew it was a lost fight and huffed again and started to walk toward a line of restaurants. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Where do you wanna eat?"

"Some place vegan," Neal answered. "I'm pretty easy to please."

Patrick stopped in his tracks and stared at Neal. The large raindrops rang from the top of the umbrella as the crashed into thick material, in a deep tone his words rumbled as he spoke. "We are Lycanthrope, our kind cannot be vegan. We would die without meat, look, I understand it is your first year and you think you have this mastered, but trust me you don't, and you won't…ever."

Neal smiled hard; it was almost a self-serving smirk.

"I have been Vegan for almost a month now," Neal explained and then pointed at a well-lit vegan diner that was wrapped in a bright green neon light which was conveniently directly in front of them. "Come on, it's date night, humor me please."

Patrick grumbled and took Neal's hand and walked toward the building. "Fine. Let's have Vegan."

"Aw. Thanks, Puddin'," Neal said in his best Boston accent.

They found themselves in line to be seated by a Maître d', but to their fortune the rain let up and eventually stopped all together, by the time the two were halfway inside the restaurant. A crisp air came from nowhere which caused them to hold each other for warmth.

As expected, the people around them gawked, which caused Neal to ask, "Everyone is staring, you want me to back off?"

"No. You're fine," Patrick said softly. "It is what it is."

"I am proud of you," Neal said and place his cheek against Patrick's broad chest.

Patrick chuckled in amusement he was still the head of the Brotherhood, no matter who he desired sexually, but Neal would learn that in time. "I have a question for you while we wait here?"

"Okay, what." Neal looked up from his chest.

"How were you able to not eat anything after you transformed," Patrick sincerely puzzled. "Obviously you've learned to control it?"

"Huh?" Neal asked and tipped his head in confusion.

It was that time they reached the Maître d', who in a thick French accent said, "Bienvenu messieurs, a table for two, oui?

"Oui," Patrick said and nodded. "While you were away you didn't eat any meat, right?"

"Yeah, I was total vegan the whole time," Neal replied as he watched the Maître d' gather up menus and silverware. "Nothing but salads."

"But, when you, you know, became a member of the Brotherhood, how did you stop yourself," Patrick asked in a vague manner so not to cause any suspicion.

"Ooooh," Neal said and bobbed his head up and down. "I never did. It was cloudy the entire time I was there."

"So, you can't control it," Patrick solemnly asked.

"Not that I know of." Neal answered and shrugged.

It was in that moment Patrick felt something familiar, a knot which formed in his gut.

"Oh no," Patrick said and looked out the closest window to the clouds as they begun to part and make way for a full moon. "Neal, how do you fe—"

Before he finished his sentence, stringy fur exploded from beneath the salmon colored suit, cries filled the area as Neal left his human form for one of a two-legged wolf. Without warning, the monster jumped on the Maître d' and savagely took a large bite from his neck. Blood spewed in an excited manner and the man's eyes bulged as fear and reality sat in on him.

Patrick shook his head as Neal gnawed on the Maître d's detached skull and said, "I thought you wanted vegan, not French?"



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