Stakeout Nights - Robin and John Stoker

Stakeouts are some hunters' least favorite parts of the job, but John doesn't mind them. Not as long as he has a stash of cayenne pepper beef jerky and a good partner to wait out the night with.
Being put up in an air conditioned motel room is preferable to sitting in the car, and less conspicuous. Especially when they're keeping tabs on a Red Cross blood donation center across the street that's been hit by vamp thieves three times in the past four months.
The enhanced alarm system the agency installed last week (which in itself is part of what they're monitoring, vampire-detecting alarms are the latest hot commodity on the market and every company wants agencies testing theirs so they can put that on their promotions) is programmed to alert his and Robin's phones if it catches anything suspicious. But in John's opinion, there's still nothing like the good old human eye.
He hears halting footsteps, and smells chicory and coffee, and then a warm mug is tapped against his shoulder. Robin joins him at the window, pulling up a chair and handing John his mug before curling in over his own.
His broken foot is healing, but John wishes the accident hadn't happened in the first place. Being on stakeouts is much less enjoyable when the reason for them is having a partner on medical reassignment.
Because God forbid Robin take actual time off like a normal human being to heal.
John chuckles at that thought, earning him a confused look from Robin.
"Is the coffee bad again?"
"No. Just...thinking."
"Should I be worried?"
"Hey!" John says, cheerfully. "I'll have you know, my thinking has gotten me out of at least as much trouble as it's gotten me into."
Robin chuckles, then takes a sip from his mug, hunching over it.
John leans over to turn down the chattering AC unit under the window. It feels fine to him, better than the sweltering humidity outside, but Robin has never done well with cold. Not since Arion.
John scoots his own chair a little closer to Robin's, and Robin leans in to rest against his shoulder, soaking up the body heat. John puts his free arm around him and continues sipping his coffee.
At some point, Robin's breaths even and slow, and John sets down his own empty mug on the windowsill so he can gently take Robin's now-cold one before it falls and wakes the kid up.
When the relief team appears at four am, John waves them over to the other side of the room, then closes his eyes. The only thing waiting for him back at the agency is a pile of unfinished paperwork and Maira's death glare. he's perfectly happy to wait here till sunrise.