A/N: Just fluff and nothing else eep I had to get this out of my mind so I ended up continuing it this week but next week will be back to plot ;v; SOWIE. I had to take my mind off the stress in my life by pouring out fluff. 

Enjoy.

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"I'm surprised. You enjoy this?"

Vanilla watched his companion land two punches in the ice on the far right of the frozen lake, close to the edge of a pine forest covered in snow. He noted the presence of a fishing rod leaning against a nearby tree and inferred the identity of its owner.

"Passes the time," Leroy shrugged as he rose, taking the rod from Vanilla with an oddly devious smile before turning back to the lake and casting a line. "What do you do?"

"Well... vampires prefer spending time indoors, where the environment is much less volatile. Though, granted, we do not experience temperatures in the way werewolves and humans do—we're just cold, most of the time, which doesn't have much of an effect on our level of comfort—it simply boils down to a matter of preference. My apologies, I digress. We have classes most of the time. The curriculum emphasizes the importance of specialized research in respective fields of knowledge."

He observed his companion taking a seat by the edge of a lake on a flat rock and stood by awkwardly, hands behind his back and staring at the red little floating device that bobbed up and down.

"I asked about you," said Leroy, nodding at the space beside him which Vanilla could safely interpret as his cue to join him. "What you do in your free time."

"O-oh," was all the bespectacled vampire managed, adjusting his glasses and wrapping his coat a little tighter around himself. "Me? Well um. I read. And I have a little lab where I collect botanic samples and spend time researching about their properties and respective habitats. That aside, I'm rather boring, to say the least. According to what I've heard."

His companion snorted, glancing sideways with yet another disarming smile on his lips. "People say all kinds of shit when they're jealous. You're smarter than them. They don't like that."

It was strange speaking to a werewolf and hearing his thoughts on a matter he'd never bothered bringing up in the company of his own kind.

"I'm sure they have their reasons. Though I myself admit to being rather plain and uninteresting. Some vampires enjoy frolicking with human beings, turning up at high schools as transfer students o-or spending the night at what they call hotels and such, returning with stories and gossip that they'd then share with others over a glass of red."

This description had quite frankly matched Leroy's perception of vampires in general. Crazed romantics with an optional interest in the blood of human beings and their necks; going around attaining their desires through means of seduction and anything underhanded.

At present however, taking in his companion all wrapped up and bundled to the very top of his head and the occasional sneeze despite his claim about vampires being immune to the cold—this all felt very much harmless and cute, even.

"Werewolves have this weird obsession about finding a mate too. About hierarchy and fated pairs."

"Is that so?" The vampire blinked, gazing into the distance. "In truth, I too, had that opinion of your kind a-and I mean, you're an Alpha yourself, and perfectly strong with undeniably superior physical capabilities and yet here you are... fishing," he laughed quietly and it sounded to Leroy like clinking of icicles; chiming in the breeze. "Oh I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. Just, enjoying a pastime as quaint and slow as fishing speaks volumes about your personality."

His gaze then lowered to the ground, downcast, as though he was reminded of something rather unpleasant but did not wish to make the mood any heavier than it already was. There was something about the combination of his lashes that were in full view, obscured by his glasses beforehand, and the reflection of the frozen lake in his eyes that made the werewolf stare.

He'd even missed the first couple of tugs on the line and snapped back to reality only after Vanilla raised his gaze at the splashing of something in the opening he'd made in the ice.

"I-it's a catch! Quick, reel it in—what do I do? Do I, um—" "It's a big one." "Do you need me on standby? I could bring it up when it's near the surface." "Not too close."

The werewolf reeled in their catch bit by bit and it did not take very long before Vanilla spotted it just beyond the surface of the water; an Arctic char the size of his torso. It was huge.

Sheer size was enough to weigh the catch even as Leroy reeled it in; its slippery belly made it even harder to rest it against the ice around the hole without having it slide back into the water. He knew the catch would've taken him a little longer than usual to nail but what he hadn't expected was for his companion to wander a little too close to the opening and—as though this was a swimming pool and he was going for a dip on a nice summer evening—slide right into the freezing water.

At once, Leroy was by his side grabbing him by the waist and pulling him out of the water; coat, dress shirt, pants and all, drenched and cold as ice.

"What th—"

"Leroy, it's beautiful!" The bespectacled bean had their catch in his hands and ripples in his eyes, gazing at the Arctic char with a look of complete awe and appreciation. "Just, simply, incredible. What an amazing feat. I-it's practically the length of my arm! Would this be your average catch? If so, I'm impressed. Well, not that I wasn't, already, but just looking at it now makes it so... real. What next?"

He said this all while a puddle of water formed at the ground below him, crystalizing in a matter of seconds from how cold it was.

"...we grill it. But," he tried to remove his companion's coat but then thought against it. They were out in the open and there was barely any cover against the wind. "You're cold as fuck."

Vanilla paused, blinking before the fish nearly slapped him with its tail and he had to hold it further away from himself. "That's not much of an issue, really. I told you, we don't really feel the effects of being cold—it's really a matter of preference."

"You like it?"

"W-well," he sniffled a little, relieved when his companion took over the handling of the fish and could finally observe it as a whole. "Not really. But I must say, this is a beautiful catch... Arctic char, I've read about it. Sits somewhere between Trout and Salmon but incredibly fatty and thus much easier to cook. Apparently, it doesn't go dry or tough like Salmon unless you're that awful of a cook—which I'm sure you're not. It would be terrible to ruin such a beautiful fish and not do it justice."

There was a keen interest that lit up the frosty blues of his eyes, fixed on the Arctic char as he observed its red belly, spots and fins and almost closed his eyes in appreciation of nature's gift. How strange it was to witness a person at the height of passion, in which case was knowledge of the world and that which he'd never before seen.

Leroy had to remind himself that the vampire was most likely a hundred-or-more years older than he was.

Again, the little vampire sneezed. His fingers were out in the open—white. Likely ice cold from his dip in the lake. There was no telling if vampires had any idea what it meant to be 'ill' or down with a cold; and whether there was any means of medication or cure for immortal bodies like his.

"There's a cave nearby. I'll get a fire going. Can you hold out till then?"

Vanilla laughed a little, head slightly tilted at an angle to meet the gaze of his companion. "You seem concerned. I'm fine, really. Though I can't say the same for my suit but a little nagging by Professor Alekseyev isn't all that bad. He's rather harmless, really. Despite what many others think of him."

The pair headed further north of the lake where the snow-covered pine forest was and moments later, arrived at the mouth of a cozy little cave that didn't go on for very much. It was just the right size for a night's shelter from rain or snow, and seemed, in fact, rather lived in.

There was a large, clean-looking basket that stored a sleeping bag, pillows, and other useful items like a kerosene lamp, matchsticks, pocket knives and even what seemed like a cutting board. Aside, near the entrance of the cave, was remnants of a fire and above it, a makeshift, manual rotating grill.

To put it simply: Vanilla was fairly impressed.

"You set this all up by yourself?"

"Yeah. Too crude for the elites?" He teased. Vanilla rolled his eyes, standing awkwardly outside the cave and not quite knowing what to do. It was the first time he'd been allowed into someone else's private quarters. Let alone, a werewolf's.

"Well, actually, I think it looks... clean and quite cozy, really. I imagine you host little gatherings for you and your friends out here?"

Leroy laugh was a cross between surprise and indifference. "I come here alone."

"A-ah... so, well, then, I'd be intruding on your—"

"I invited you. Now take your clothes off."

"Wha—!!" This had the originally ice cold, white-as-a-sheet, bloodless vampire turning red with embarrassment, and even then, he knew this wasn't physically possible. There were no capillaries in his cheeks that contained any form of blood. He couldn't possibly blush like a maiden in love; that sort of thing only happened in foolish tales written by human beings. "What does that—you can't possibly... is there a... and you, but, I..."

"...take off your clothes so that you can dry off, dumbass," Leroy snorted, reaching over to flick the bespectacled vampire's forehead. "I'm not hearing you sneeze for the rest of the evening."

"Oh... oh, right, yes, of course," Vanilla stumbled over his words and attempted to recover from the mini-heart attack he just had, albeit having no such organ in the first place. "I'll, um, go over there."

He thus retreated a little farther into the cave before peeling off the soaked coat that clung to his torso and arms and then, his vest and finally, dress pants. Naturally, he decided to leave his inner garments on for the sake of retaining his dignity. Or so he thought.

Meanwhile, his companion had gotten the fire going in a matter of seconds and had arrived at his shoulder with an additional piece of clothing. In exchange for the vampire's wet coat and other soaked garments, Leroy handed him a parka; it was upon closer inspection that Vanilla realized the true origins of this parka, stemming from Leroy himself mere moments ago when he'd removed it from himself and directly given it to the sneezing snowflake.

He could tell from the moment he slid one hand into the parka and felt the remnants of the werewolf's heat on the surface of his skin.

"Thank you," was all he managed, zipping up the parka to its very last inch before tottering over to the fire.

"Still cold?"

"Not really." The proper term was cozy but he wasn't about so start spilling soft little terms like that or they'd soon spiral into the foolish abyss of comfort and and possibly romance. N-not that he was thinking about romantic things. No. No romantic thoughts at all; just the fact that he'd heard things about vampires despising every possible scent that belonged to a werewolf for most of his life but only just realized how terribly false these rumors had been.

Leroy smelled of dark rum and something earthy. Hints of smoked wood that warmed the very tips of his fingers.

"Can I help with anything?" He proceeded to ask after recovering from a daze of fluff, observing the fast and precise manner his companion had been going at the fish.

"The... herbs, maybe?" Leroy suggested after a pause, nodding at a tiny basket by the bigger one that contained his sleeping bag and other items. "There's a pestle and mortar. Toss in what you like and grind them up, I guess."

"Got it," said the vampire, determined to do his best. He'd done much grinding up of herbs and botanical samples back in his lab so this really shouldn't faze him, or so he thought.

He checked out the basket of herbs and brought them over to Leroy to work beside him, just in case the werewolf wished to give further instructions. Then, very quickly, he picked out black and white peppercorns, English parsley, some dill, a mix of green and red chili peppers, chives, and garlic—tossing them into the mortar.

"Fuck."

Leroy's movement was swift and instantaneous. The head of garlic was back in the basket before he knew it and kicked aside. "Sorry. Forgot that was in there. You okay?"

The bespectacled bean all but died of laughter. Attempting to collect himself took a good couple of minutes and a whole lot of confusion on Leroy's end. It was only after recovering that he could do his best to explain the misconception most people, not just werewolves, had about vampires and garlic; that in truth, it was harmless and yet again, merely a matter of preference.

Leroy snorted, shaking his head with an exasperated smile. "What the fuck. Thought it made you guys evaporate or something."

The expression on his face was contagious and so Vanilla caught himself unable to stop the soft mushy smile on his lips; he then proceeded to pinch himself a little to keep it real.

Instead of adding the head of garlic back into the mortar, the vampire remembered a technique he once used in his lab to produce samples of a specific fruit; smoking it directly over a flame for a minute or two.

He suggested this to Leroy, who then stared at the garlic and gave this some thought.

"Never tried that before but sounds like it could work."

"I-it should. Scientifically. It would experience a change in its chemical properties, of course, but a change in state might also bring out the essence of its flavor. At least that's what my research says."

"Then go for it," the werewolf shrugged, as though this wasn't very big of a deal and he didn't see a point in Vanilla trying to explain himself because, by default, he had complete faith in his judgement. This was, miles apart from his experience in the academia.

There was always reason to doubt the research of a young, inexperienced vampire.

"Must have more than a hundred years' worth of know-how in that head of yours," Leroy added and this had Vanilla musing privately.

"You, um, think I'm rather old then?"

"...I mean, you know a lot."

"Actually, I... might be the youngest vampire to have ever been accepted into the academy. I just turned twenty a few months ago." He revealed sheepishly, gaze lowered to the herbs in the mortar as he pounded and grinded them, adding a hit of salt every now and then.

"...you're smarter than all the old-ass vampires I've ever met. Also, I'm older than you by a year," he added as he turned the fish over to de-scale its other side. It slapped onto the stone with a loud splat. It was extremely heavy and yet, Leroy was flinging it around like it was a tiny wet towel.

"Well," the vampire sighed. "Some people, even with the gift of immortality, spend their years in rather quaintly. Sometimes, even, in emptiness. And already, I can see that you're very different from the usual werewolf in a pack, let alone an Alpha. You seem... accustomed, in fact, to being alone."

It was in that moment that both realized the extent to which they shared a mutual understanding of each other's solitude, more so than people of their own kind and those they'd spent most of their lives with. In less than the span of one evening, the pair had connected in such a way that had they been erased of all race, title and kind, one would have thought they were—

"A-ah! The garlic," Vanilla soon realized, hurriedly retrieving the garlic he's tossed into the smoking wood by the edge of the fire and removing the individual cloves. Inside it, the solid lobes had turned into a buttery paste that produced the perfect aroma of smoked garlic.

"It worked!" The bespectacled vampire lit up with frosted crystals in his eyes, magic at the joy of their little victory and having invented a seemingly new method of cooking.

Leroy appeared less surprised; after all, he truly did believe in Vanilla's research and expertise. He'd be surprised if it didn't work.

Together, the pair spread the herbs and paste evenly over the fish and placed it over the open flame, rotating the contraption every now and then for an even cook and a crisp char.

As they sat side by side on the flat rock, waiting for their evening supper to cook, a quiet falling of snow began to cloak the land outside the cave. The winter air was soundless; as though it'd stopped to relish in the moment of two, red and blue.

One of them sneezed right then, hurriedly apologizing for having ruined the precious moments of silence. The other had laughed. "You're really not used to the cold, are you."

"W-well. Like I said, vampires don't ever feel cold. It's not a bad thing to be cold. It is merely a state. And... so... if it's a preference, I know some vampires who prefer warmth. That's actually the reason some of us indulge in... you know, a glass of red every now and then. I mean, we're naturally in a state of coldness so heat is really a concept some of us might never understand of experience. Supposedly, drinking blood makes one feel very warm, as though it's... in a way, it's giving us a taste of what it means to be human. To be considered, biologically, alive. Of course, that isn't necessary at all but, well, for those who do drink it... I suppose they appreciate the warmth."

It was in saying all this that Vanilla had unconsciously scooted a little closer to his wolf companion, not quite realizing that he'd grown somewhat attached to his heat. A victim of those who'd appreciated the warmth. For the rest of the evening and many to come, the pair would enjoy snowy nights like these; sitting together, huddled, side-by-side, digging into most flaky fish while the rest of the world slept.