Work Text:
“Is this a horror movie?” Jonathan asked.
“It’s a romantic horror,” Mina said, cuddling closer on the comfortable beat-up couch that had been in her flat longer than she had. “Romantic supernatural horror.”
“I still don’t understand why anyone thinks horror is romantic.”
“You don’t understand why anyone likes horror at all.” Mina ruffled his hair.
He laughed. “I understand better now that I’ve listened to you wax very enthusiastic about it.”
“They just did a new adaptation of Carmilla,” Mina said, “so of course I simply must watch it. Lucy says it’s very gay.”
“A ringing endorsement, certainly.” It could have been mean, but Jonathan made it sound so earnest, it was cute. “Gay horror?”
“Romantic gay supernatural horror,” Mina said. “It’s about a vampire.”
“A what?”
“A vampire? You don’t know what a vampire is?”
“Should I?”
“It’s a scary supernatural creature. Like… like Mothman. Do you know Mothman?”
“Should I know the moth man?”
“Not the moth man. Mothman.”
“Is this a podcast thing?”
“No!” Mina said. Then, “Well, yes, I learned about Mothman and vampires from podcasts. Admittedly sometimes sensationalized true crime podcasts. But they’re not just a podcast thing. Though you might know more about obscure world folklore horror monsters if you listened to any podcasts besides BBC and NPR ones.”
“I like the BBC and NPR,” Jonathan said, but he laughed at Mina’s exaggerated mock frown. “You’ll have to recommend me some good ones. Where Mothman and vampires do crimes.” He gestured at the television, where the video-on-demand screen showed two women in historical costumes that could be pretty much any of the historical lesbian dramas he and Mina had watched recently. “So what does a vampire do?”
“Seduce secluded young women with their promises of transgressive sexiness, mostly,” Mina said. “And then bite their breasts and drink their blood. Carmilla is from the nineteenth century and was quite the trendsetter for all vampire stories, so mostly they’re gay, and sad, and forbiddenly sexy and angsty about it.”
“Well,” Jonathan said. “If they use their sexiness to attack people, I might be able to be a little bit less afraid of this one than I was at the last horror movie we watched.”
“You probably won’t need to watch this one through your fingers this time,” Mina said. “And I haven’t seen it, so maybe it is scary, but if it is, you can just rest easy knowing you would be immune to a Victorian vampire’s sexy charms. And I can rest easy knowing I have a brave asexual protector from the vampires. Even if they are tragic and beautiful and sexy.”
“I will always gladly protect you, my beloved lady,” Jonathan said, all noble, and then couldn’t keep a straight face and Mina was wheezing with the effort of trying to keep her grin down and they both collapsed into laughter.
“Though really,” Jonathan said, “if a vampire or a mothman were stalking us, you’re the brave one. It’s the twenty-first century. I would trust you to protect me.”
Mina picked up the remote, snuggled against him, and hit play. “Always.”