Disclaimer: Tom and Hal and everything else (aside from the slash, though I'm sure it's only a matter of time) belong to the Beeb.

A/N: Well here's a random one for you. Hal/Tom shortie. Because apparently, despite being unable to finish any of my current stories, I'll happily forsake deadlines and sit up late at night writing for this pair.

It was happening again; Tom was standing too close to him. He was saying something but Hal wasn't listening; he had tuned out the moment Tom had taken that last step into his personal space. The werewolf's jaw was set, his voice grating and harsh. Hal vaguely registered what this meant, his sluggish mind piecing the body language and distorted sounds together to come up with the fact that Tom was irritated, but not overly so. His shoulders were a little too loose for actual anger. Hal understood that he was being goaded.

"Hal? Ya even listenin' ta me?"

That broke through his reverie enough to warrant a vague reply.

"No, not really." He said softly, knowing that his calm could only add fuel to the fire that Tom was already fanning.

He was right of course; Hal had been getting better at predicting the boy's reactions of late. Still he wasn't quite prepared for the strong hand that gripped his bicep a moment later. Only iron will painstakingly gained from his recent years of self control prevented him from wincing as fingers pressed into the healing burn beneath his shirt. Tom gave him a quick shake, peering up at him like he wasn't sure whether he should be worried or annoyed.

"I'm tellin' ya to stop prancing around wiv your stupid gloves on and help me drag that chest up ta baby Eve's room. It's a lot heavier now Annie's gone and filled it with junk."

There was a vein in Tom's neck that danced prettily when he got wound up and Hal's eyes were drawn to it out of habit. He couldn't help the glances he still spared for a person's jugular. Even after all these years, even when he knew how much it would hurt him, and those around him, to break his fast, he still couldn't deny himself a look at the delicate skin of someone's neck, or the sound of a person's heartbeat.

Tom had a particularly strong heartbeat, he supposed it had to be strong to withstand the moon's changes. Leo's heart had never been quite as strong as Tom's was, not even in his youth. Now, as he stood frozen in their kitchen, he could hear the pumping of Tom's heart, muscles contracting and squeezing poisonous blood around the young man's body. For that's what he was now, Tom was a young man of 21 years, so young... Of course he had had younger; he recalled one such pretty boy happy for his attentions.

Tom was not like that lad had been. Perhaps essentially as naive, but about different things. That boy had been a pampered son with zero real world perspective, just turned eighteen and eager to prove that he knew it all. No, Tom was the opposite; he knew nothing of family or comfort but was every bit as tough and capable as he liked to believe.

"Oi! Quit spacing out on me, ya gonna help me with this chest or what?"

"Hmm? When I'm done with the dishes." He waved his gloved hands in Tom's face in way of a compromise.

"A'right then. But I'm gonna help you with these, you're taking bloody ages."

Hal began to protest, loath to let someone else in on his task, but Tom just elbowed him in the side until there was room at the sink for the pair of them. Hal took several deep breaths, attempting to calm his rising panic as Tom prepared to dive into the soapy water.

"Wait, wait!"

Tom froze before his hands could touch the bubbles and turned to give him an incredulous look. Hal held out a second set of sunshine yellow Marigolds.

"You're kiddin', right?"

"Just- put them on." Hal thrust the gloves more insistently at him, then added as an afterthought. "Please."

With a tortured sigh Tom pulled the gloves on and they got to work. Tom took over the washing of the dishes while Hal dried them neatly and resisted the urge to put them back in the sink for a second cycle. Tom finished the washing at top speed and watched as Hal carefully wiped the last of the plates dry. He had just placed it in its correct position in the top cupboard when he turned back to the sink and got a face full of soap suds. Hal blew the bubbles away from his mouth, gaping like a fish and frozen in horror.

"That's for makin' me wear these stupid things." Tom announced triumphantly.

Hal spluttered, wiping frantically at the bubbles. They were dirty bubbles no less! From useddishwater. His wiping was hindered by the plastic gloves so he grabbed a tea towel and scrubbed his face clean. Tom was laughing loudly, so amused by his own genius that he failed to see the sodden tea towel until it plastered itself over his face.

Even as he pulled it away, he was chuckling; apparently the counter-attack was justified in his mind. However that didn't mean there wouldn't be revenge so Hal was ready when Tom's chuckling paused for just a second and his eyes flickered to the full sink.

Using his superior speed to its full advantage Hal intercepted him as he lunged for the bubbles a second time. He caught Tom's wrists firmly and pushed him backwards, away from the danger zone that was the sink. They crashed unceremoniously into the kitchen counter, Tom letting out a huff of surprised laughter.

As Hal recovered from the shock of losing his personal space again he inwardly berated himself for putting himself back in the position they had started at. In fact this was even worse! Or was it better..? Pressed up against the counter it was he who was crowding Tom now. He was so close Hal could feel the unnatural heat his body produced, it burned him on a level that he suspected was not purely physical.

He daren't move and Tom was as still as he was. He had stopped laughing but a ghost of a smile still lingered around his mouth. Hal's gaze flickered unbidden to the corner of his mouth where his lips tilted upwards just a fraction. He looked back up to Tom's eyes quickly, knowing his brief show of fascination had not passed unnoticed. The young man gazed dolefully at him for several audible heartbeats and then he lifted his chin and pressed his lips once to Hal's own. They touched for only one more heartbeat but when it was broken they did not part.

Hal let out a shaky breath, shocked at the effect that single warm brush of lips had on him. He kept eye contact with Tom for a moment more as he leant forward to press their foreheads together, but soon let his eyes flutter closed to avoid the dizzying lack of focus he experienced. Even Tom's forehead seemed to burn with heat and Hal wondered if werewolves always experienced the equivalent of a high fever. He had never really been near a healthy one for any amount of time without fighting the thing.

His nose brushed Tom's cheek as he felt his way to the other's mouth. He enjoyed the man's soft skin and savoured the slow approach. He was, after all, an old one; he had been taught when to take and when to take your time. He was mildly surprised at Tom for letting him do this; he would be sure to let the boy have his own way next time, if there was a next time...

His lips ghosted over Tom's own and he felt the werewolf strain towards him so he ducked to the side at the last moment, placing a light kiss to the corner of Tom's mouth where his smile had lingered. Then, finally loosening his own restraints just a fraction, he took Tom's bottom lip between his teeth, keeping the soft flesh captive for a moment, before he moved in to claim the other man's mouth.

Hal could feel his own passion surging forward immediately like a dam whose walls had finally cracked just a little too much. His own walls shattered spectacularly and Hal was instantly grateful that Tom had not pushed him to go faster. If he had rushed into this Hal feared that he might not have been prepared to brace himself against the tide of emotion and heavy bloodlust. It ran through his veins like a wildfire, all it needed was a spark of sexual attraction and he was alive with it again.

He had but one tiny little lifeboat to cling to against the onslaught. While his body's desires called for blood - the hot gush of it against his tongue, the cloying iron scent in his nostrils as he drank his fill of vital lifeblood - his mind was logical and insistent, and the burn on his shoulder served to ignite his survival instinct. His lust was tempered by the knowledge that Tom's blood held only a painful death for him. His body on the other hand...

Tom's frame was wiry but deceptively strong, his body was all hardness and corded muscle won from years of hunting his kind, though Hal knew the boy possessed a gentle heart. It beat strongly where their chests were pressed together. He kissed like a virgin; unpractised and easily impressed, but he was a quick learner in many things it would seem. Hal revelled in the feel of another body so close and was quickly buoyed up by the guttural noises Tom made. Their legs were slotted together like jigsaw pieces and he pressed their hips closer too, high on the sensations that he had been resolutely shunning for years now. It had been so long... and it had been so cold. The flick of Tom's tongue against his own as the man took the initiative, pressing forward and licking his way into Hal's own mouth, was as close to heaven as Hal ever hoped to get.

When they parted Tom's mouth was sinfully red and shining. Hal took in the sight for a moment, knowing he must look the same. He was proud to see not a trace of spilt blood. His hand came up of his own accord and he reached to thumb at the boy's bruised lips before realising that they still wore their rubber gloves. The pair exchanged a look and Hal let his head fall to the crook of Tom's neck breath still coming in stilted pants. A contented smile spread across his lips as he nosed the vein he had spied earlier.

Tom tilted his head back in an astonishing display of trust but ruined it after a moment by saying, "I hope you're not feelin' at all bitey down there."

Hal let out a huff of air that could have passed for a chuckle.

"Most definitely not, you'd taste awful."

TBC