The Mayhews did not often entertain. They were unsurprisingly over-prepared to do so this evening. Peter had gone all out with his preparations. There were so many snacks, small dishes, and drinks laid out that when Greg brought his date, Old Lady Romanov, into the spacious living room, he grew concerned that this ‘little get together’ was not going to be quite so little as he was led to believe.

“Hey Old Lady Romanov,” Peter greeted, smiling happily and wearing a slim fit polo and tight, well-ironed khakis. “Welcome to our home. It’s good to see you.”

Roma, due solely to Greg’s insistence, wore less… sexy attire than her usual garb. It was going to be an interesting experience to see her interact with Peter while Renea was present even without the attractive vampire showing off her assets. Though Greg had come to realize that Renea was incredibly trusting and understanding when it came to people coming onto Peter, no woman could watch Roma blatantly flirt with their husband without some negative reaction. Greg was ready to step in and mediate if necessary, but was not looking forward to the prospect.

“Thanks for having me,” Roma purred, already eyeing Peter slowly up and down and looking hungry. Greg pinched her arm covertly. Roma pouted. “And Roma is fine.”

“Alright, Roma it is. Roma, meet my amazing life partner, Renea. Renea, Roma. Roma, Renea.”

“Pleasure,” Renea greeted, dipping her chin slightly, eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Roma’s smile grew smug. Greg pinched her again, and leaned close to her ear. “You promised to be nice.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Roma said pleasantly, ignoring Greg and pulling away from his grasp. “And who are these two adorable little blood bags?”

To Greg’s surprise, and even more to Peter’s based on his expression, both Flapjack and Omacatl approached Roma when she crouched and reached out for them. Peter introduced the four-legged members of his family and then the four of them chatted amicably for a few minutes until there was a knock at the front door. Peter jumped to his feet and hurried to let more guests inside.

The two men that entered each hugged Peter enthusiastically as they came in. Though neither of them were quite as pretty as Peter Mayhew himself, they were both very attractive men. Holding hands and looking over the gathering, they introduced themselves before Peter had a chance to.

“Hi everyone,” one of the men said, waving and smiling. He was a small man, both in height and build, and he was meticulously groomed - white-blond hair styled in a dramatic pomp, beard trimmed so neatly that Greg wondered if it were even really growing on his face, or perhaps was expertly painted on.

The other man waved as well, but hurried over to crouch next to Roma. He was also well groomed, and Greg picked up a subtle cologne on him that smelled like coconuts and appletinis.

“Hey, Flapjack!” he said, scratching the old boy enthusiastically. “It’s been a while, big guy. How are you? Keeping Peter out of trouble?”

Flapjack yipped mournfully.

“I know,” the second man said, shaking his head. “Tall order. But I know you do your best.” He stood and made his way back to his partner. “I’m Jake, and this is my husband Paul.”

“Jake, Paul,” Peter said, completing the introduction, “you already know Renea and Flapjack. These are my friends Greg,” he went on, moving to stand by Greg and display him like he was the prize on some game show before moving to Roma and doing the same, “and Roma. And this adorable little monster,” Peter continued, picking up Omacatl and putting her on his shoulder, “is the newest member of our family, Omacatl.”

“Kitty!” Paul shrieked, hurrying over to pet the god cat. “I thought Renea was allergic!”

“She is,” Peter confirmed. Greg could see him thinking at light speed about how to explain that this cat did not have dander. “For whatever reason, this sweet girl doesn’t seem to bother her.”

“Awe,” Paul said, smiling. “You’ve always wanted a cat, as long as I’ve known you. This is so great!”

“If only she didn’t hate me,” Renea chimed from her seat on the couch. She scrunched up her face in an adorable albeit dramatized frown.

“You’ll grow on her,” Peter said, waving his hand as though it was no concern at all. Indeed, Greg knew he could command the cat to at least feign affection. For her part, Omacatl seemed to specifically be avoiding eye contact with Renea. “Well, everyone’s here. Feel free to grab some snacks. Who wants a drink?”

Everyone wanted a drink, and so Peter excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen. Paul, at least Greg was fairly sure the white-blond pomp guy was Paul, sat next on the edge of the couch closest to Greg’s loveseat.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“So, how do you know Peter?” he asked, crossing his legs and placing both hands on his knee as he leaned toward Greg.

“Goat yoga,” Greg explained.

That elicited a double take from Paul, or maybe Jake. “I’ve never seen you at goat yoga. Has Peter been cheating on us with another studio?”

Greg paled. He should have figured they did goat yoga with Peter. Of course they did. “I only went the one time,” he continued his lie. “Met this guy, connected, never looked back.”

Paul, or Jake, nodded in understanding. “Doesn’t take much with that man, does it?”

Greg laughed, leaning back and getting comfortable on the loveseat. “No. No, it sure doesn’t. He’s like a virus.”

“Or a tumor,” Jake said, taking a seat on the couch between Paul and Renea. At least Greg was fairly sure the taller one was Jake. He decided then to refer to either or both of them as Jake, at least in his mind and at least until he could be sure which was which. “Peter Mayhew, the world’s most beautiful tumor.”

Roma scratched Flapjack affectionately one last time before joining the group, taking her seat on Greg’s lap. “Have I told you how happy it makes me that you don’t smell like garlic concentrate right now?” she whispered into his ear.

Greg frowned. He still had yet to replace the bottle of Gregscellent that he dropped in the tunnels under Veracruz. Of course, as a vampire Roma despised the smell. It also gave her angry red hives every time they were intimate. But Greg had been wearing his signature cologne for centuries, and wasn’t going to give it up for a romantic interest that Greg was sure would be short-lived. Roma was great, but the relationship between her and Greg was almost entirely physical. In Greg’s experience, relationships held together by physical attraction were bound to fall apart eventually.

“You’ve mentioned it.”

Peter returned with the cat still on his shoulders pulling a small table on wheels behind him. Its top was covered with six drinks, a shelf below held all of the ingredients they’d need to mix more. In his other hand, Peter held a colorful box that Greg quickly identified as a game of some type. In his time living with the Mayhew’s, Peter had him playing more games than he’d ever played in his life. And Greg did find that he enjoyed the simple, friendly competition. It was almost like the thrill of hunting monsters, but with a negligible chance of dismemberment.

“The game is Guess,” Peter announced, placing the box on the table and then handing out drinks. “I don’t think Greg or Roma have played before, so I’m just going to quickly go over the rules.”

And he did. There were to be three teams of two. One person on each team would be given a card with a word on it. They would then give their partner hints to guess the word, with some obvious stipulations to keep things interesting. The couples paired off, and the game began.

For the sake of demonstration, Peter and Renea went first. Renea pulled a card from the top of the stack and frowned down at it as Jake flipped the timer.

“The thing Vicky hates most,” Renea said, speaking rapidly.

“Groundhogs!” Peter shouted.

“What? No.”

“Oh. Duh. Parking tickets!”

“Yes!” Renea cheered, setting down the card and pulling another from the stack. She looked at it and frowned. She considered for a moment, and then brightened. “What do you call a car that’s always breaking down?”

“Scrap metal,” Peter said. Renea gave him a flat look. “A lemon.”

“And what do you make when life gives you those?” she asked, expertly skirting the rule that stated the player with the card could not say any part of the word or words on the card.

“Lemonade?”

“Yes!” Renea set the card down on top of the first, and pulled another. The game went on this way until the time ran out. Peter and Renea, miraculously, managed to gain an impressive 13 cards in a single minute.

“We’ll go next,” Roma volunteered. “You want to do the guessing?”

Greg, surprised, nodded dumbly. “Yeah, let’s give this a go.”

Roma stood and made her way to the stack of cards on the coffee table as Peter resumed his seat on Renea’s lap. She pulled a card, her head cocked to one side, brows drawn together. Jake flipped the timer.

“Go!” he shouted excitedly, accidentally spilling some of his drink in the process.

“Um,” Roma said uncertainly. “It’s black, and lives in jungles?”

“Some kind of snake?” Greg guessed. Roma shook her head. “Beetle?”

Roma shook her head again, looking frustrated. Then she zeroed in on the cat on Peter’s shoulder, stood and plucked Omacatl up. She held it out, the cat’s limbs dangling and tail flicking irritably. “Like this, but bigger.”

“Jaguar? Panther?”

“Panther!” Roma said, smiling with delight as she pulled another card. She looked at this one for several seconds in silence before looking at Greg helplessly. “This card is…”

“Take another,” Peter said. “It’s your first game, we’ll give you that.”

Paul, Jake, and Renea nodded their agreement. Roma picked up another card. This one, it seemed by her exasperated look, was not going to be much easier.

“I think it’s a drink? I feel like it might be a drink people order at bars,” Roma said, flashing Greg an apologetic look. He raised a hand and shook his head to indicate he understood. Food and beverage were far from Roma’s strong suit. She probably hadn’t ingested anything but blood in… Greg couldn’t even guess. Prepped for exactly that, the drink Peter had brought out for Roma was a bloody mary. A real blood, bloody mary. Greg knew she wouldn’t enjoy it much at room temperature, but at least she had something to sip on. “Or maybe a sexual maneuver I’m not familiar with?”

Greg tried piecing together what he could from those clues. He was coming up blank. Peter left his seat on Renea’s lap and moved past Greg on his way to the snacks. He coughed to cover his words, but everyone heard him.

“Fuzzy navel.” Peter continued past Greg, picking up a platter of snacks and placing them on the coffee table within everyone’s convenient reach.

“Fuzzy navel?” Greg asked.

“Yes!” Roma cheered. She did a little wiggle and placed the card in their little ‘win’ pile.

The game went on, the Mayhew’s and their guests laughed and ate and got to know one another. In a shocking non-upset, Peter and Renea dominated the game with a total score higher than the two opposing teams together. Greg knew already that Peter and Renea were a special kind of pairing. When it came to games played around the coffee table, they were a force.

In bed that night, Greg found himself idly wondering if there was someone out there in the wide world that he would make a special pairing with. He’d given up on that hope long ago. So long ago that the concept had stopped occurring to him entirely. So long ago that considering it now felt as though he was considering it for the first time. With a heavy sigh, Greg realized that no, there was not a special pairing in his future. How could there be? Pulling the blanket with one big meaty hand, he rolled over.

Quick author note:

Now that the first volume is done, I would love to hear some feedback. I have taken note of the most common feedback regarding the slice of life bits: that they take you out of the story because they take place at random times and don’t follow the overall story. In the second volume I’ve been writing them between scenes in a way that fits and can’t wait to show you!

SO in the second volume, what do you want to see more of? Less of? Hit me.