#he's the victim here but oof make him less irritating jeez

[ssaalexblake]

i'm casually browsing ats gifsets and i always get a laugh out of the fandom for being pissed at all the sadness and anger that Connor causes Angel bc like, Angel Loves his kid a whole lot, and the Last thing you want is for that to bring him some kind of peaceful domestic bliss happiness bc he'd lose his soul and Probably paint some kind of weird mural with said kid's blood.

Connor depressing him all the time is good, actually.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klainetober one-shot - “Neck Nibbles” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt wakes up to something biting his neck. Blaine claims it's a mosquito. When Kurt wakes in the morning, he discovers that perhaps Blaine was lying ... (2336 words)

Notes: A re-write for the @klainetober prompt 'vampire'. Follows 'One of Those Nights'.

Read on AO3.

Kurt feels a slight pinch, like the prick of a tiny needle injecting into his neck, and in his sleep, he swings a hand to bat the culprit away.

“Oof! Kurt!” Blaine groans, taking the hit square in the eye.

“Wha---?” Kurt mumbles, only partially awake. “What are you doing?” He snorts in a, frankly, unattractive way - a way reserved for muttering in his sleep - then shifts positions, rolling his hips left, then his body, till he’s lying on his side facing away from his boyfriend.

“I’m not doing anything,” Blaine replies. “Go back to sleep.”

Kurt arcs an eyebrow, but he doesn't open his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Go back to sleep."

Kurt would say that Blaine sounds suspiciously awake and coherent for two fifty-two in the morning, but it’s times like these that Kurt forgets his boyfriend is a vampire, not the dapper Prince Charming he fell in love with back at Dalton.

“I’m trying,” Kurt complains, bringing the comforter up to his chin and holding it tight against him to protect his vulnerable neck. “But there’s a mosquito or something in here, and it’s bugging me … hee-hee … bugging me …” Kurt chuckles at his unintended pun, snorting again, which makes him laugh harder.

“I’ll kill it if it comes back,” Blaine promises. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm … okay …” Kurt agrees, shoving skepticism aside and snuggling against the hard body of his boyfriend, who usually opts to lie beside Kurt in bed even though he doesn’t need sleep. “As long as you (yawn) stay here to protect me.”

“Of course.” Blaine smiles, fangs bared as Kurt snores softly. “I’ll stay right here." He kisses Kurt lightly on the forehead. "I'm not going anywhere ...”

***

Kurt can feel the sun within his body telling him it’s time to rise - an occupational hazard of dating a vampire, this sixth sense about the oncoming dawn. It also means that Blaine has made himself scarce, banished to the dark corner of the bedroom by the closet where the sunlight doesn’t reach until noon. The sun has yet to breach the horizon and pierce his sheer drapes, but Kurt can feel it prickling behind his eyelids. 

That’s odd. 

Rarely does that happen unless he and Blaine have a hardcore make-out sesh with lots of biting involved. But weeks of putting in overtime at school and at the diner sent Kurt to bed early, so that definitely didn’t happen.

Heartbreaking.

Short of that strange symptom, his primary concern at the moment is the number that insect did on him last night. Kurt raises a hand to his neck, hissing when his fingertips come in contact with his sore skin.

“Ugh,” he grumbles, rolling his way out of bed. "Must have been a huge mosquito. Filthy bloodsucker ..." He cringes at his own remark, hoping he didn't inadvertently offend his boyfriend. He'll find out after he assesses the damage to his neck. Kurt has extremely sensitive skin. A single bite from a pernicious parasite can make him look like he has a goiter! He needs to figure out how much cover-up he’s going to need to apply before school. 

His feet hit the floor, and immediately the urge to climb back into bed and hide under the covers overwhelms him. 

He got a decent amount of sleep last night. Why is he so damned out of it?

Kurt stumbles blindly over to his vanity and drops onto the stool, groaning at the prospect of opening his eyes. The day would go so much easier if he could keep them shut, but that would probably make taking the subway way more challenging. Kurt blinks his eyes open, lids dragging over sticky corneas, objecting to the idea of letting light anywhere near his retinas. Kurt turns away from the mirror when a stream of light hits the reflective surface and brightens the room.

“Jeez,” Kurt mumbles, putting a hand to his aching head, shielding his eyes. “Hey, Blaine? Did you hand me a hard cider instead of a Diet Coke last night or something? Because I feel awful!”

Blaine doesn’t answer. A few more blinks confirm that Kurt’s boyfriend isn’t even in the room.

Uh-oh, Kurt thinks. That’s never a good sign.

Kurt rubs his eyes hard with the heels of his palms, blinking between rubs to kick-start the watering process. He manages to clear his bleary vision enough to get a decent glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and his jaw drops.

“BLAINE!” Kurt roars when he sees the grotesque purple splotches running up and down his neck, covering nearly every conceivable inch of skin.

“Yes?” Blaine peeks his head in the bedroom door, biting his lower lip when he catches Kurt’s reflection in the mirror. “Can I help you with something, love?”

“Did you do this?” Kurt asks, pawing at his neck, running his fingertips over the marks, gasping in horror at the nastier ones.

“No?” Blaine says uneasily. “It was a mosquito. You ... you said so yourself.”

Kurt frowns.

Blaine is a horrible liar. 

An incredible actor, but a horrible liar.

Not too long ago, Kurt and Blaine stumbled upon another vampire. A friendly vampire. Victim of circumstance, like Blaine, but for a far less comical reason. This vampire warned Kurt to be careful, said that now that Blaine was a vampire, he'd be better at hiding the truth. 

But he isn't. 

Not by a long shot.

He was a better liar when he was human.

Kurt pivots on his stool to glare angrily at Blaine since looking at his non-reflection through the mirror was getting irritating.

“A mosquito did this?” Kurt points to a particularly massive and vicious-looking bite, countering Blaine’s ridiculous lie.

“Y-yes?”  

Kurt turns back to the mirror right as a more intense beam of sunlight hits the glass. He yelps, squeezing his eyes shut hard to avoid the glare.

“Dammit, Blaine!” Kurt leaps off the stool and races to the window to secure the black-out curtains. “You did bite me! I can feel it! All the way to the back of my brain!”

“Only a little,” Blaine finally admits, daring a few steps into the room.

“Only a little? I look like ground meat! Blaine!” Kurt staggers back to his vanity to better examine the damage.

“D-don’t freak out.” Blaine sits on the edge of the bed, watching Kurt set up his arsenal of foundation, intent on covering up the bruises. “The photophobia will wear off in a few hours.”

“It’s not the photophobia that’s bothering me.” Kurt opens a container of green base makeup to prep his violated neck. “If you wanted a late-night snack, could you have at least bitten a spot that won’t show? I have play practice this afternoon, and you know how important this is to me. I look diseased!”

“You could always wear a scarf,” Blaine suggests. "You have tons."

“I bought a new Marc Jacobs shirt with a V-neckline, and none of my scarves go with it,” Kurt argues, turning left and right, whimpering at his boyfriend’s handiwork. “And I was really looking forward to wearing it today.”

“Yeah ... I wanted to ask you about that …”

“Ask me about what?” Kurt asks, dabbing furiously.

“Why the departure from your leather jacket and t-shirts? I mean, you were into fashion when we met, but when I became a … you know …”

“Vampire?” Kurt offers flatly. He has come to terms with it, but, to be honest, there is a part of him that is having a hard time forgiving Blaine over it.

“Yeah, that,” Blaine says sheepishly. “You changed your look. And I know it might sound silly, but it meant something to me. Like, I transformed, and then you did, too. I thought you did it so we would match."

"I did," Kurt admits.

"So ... why are you buying designer clothes again?”

“Because this is an important production, and I want to look a little more professional,” Kurt explains. “I’m not doing it to hurt you if that’s what you think. I'm not that kind of person.”

Blaine nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Is it really that? Or is it because that blond with the sexy English accent is going to be there?” 

"What?" Kurt stops fussing with his makeup, an applicator wedge slathered in primer poised an inch from his skin. "Why would you think ...?" Kurt's eyes go wide. “Wait, wait, wait …” He turns to face Blaine, whose gaze darts away to meticulously examine the threads of Kurt’s Valentina comforter. “Are you jealous?”

Blaine falls silent a moment, gets lost in thought. Then, as if suddenly remembering he's in the middle of a conversation, sputters a weak laugh.

“What? N-no. Not a bit. What do I have to be jealous of?”

“Exactly.” Kurt puts his makeup wedge down and scoots closer, placing his hands on Blaine’s knees. “What do you have to be jealous of?”

“Maybe the fact that you’re living the dream? Not just your dream, but mine, too. A dream I’m never going to be able to fulfill.” Blaine's eyes travel from the comforter to the floor, where a narrow ray of light spreads over the wood. “Or maybe … I'm jealous of this …” He sweeps a hand through the beam, his skin sizzling at the touch of sunlight.

“Blaine! Stop! Don’t hurt yourself!” Kurt reaches for Blaine’s burnt hand and holds it in his. He stands and pulls Blaine down the width of the bed, farther away from the window. Kurt sits beside him, rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Oh, honey. We talked about this.”

Blaine shrugs the opposite shoulder, uncomfortable with laying his fears bare, but he doesn’t pull his hand away, curling his fingers over Kurt’s to keep them joined. Kurt looks into Blaine’s face, into glowing red eyes fighting to stay open as the oncoming dawn weighs heavy on him. Kurt knows Blaine’s transformation has been difficult for him to adjust to, but it has never been particularly challenging for them as a couple – not until Kurt landed the starring role in a play that had the potential to go from the humble student theater at NYADA to off-Broadway, with Kurt leading the charge. “No one is going to replace you. And that guy …” Kurt shakes his head. “He doesn’t even come close. Besides ..." Kurt grins "... I’m not the flirt in this relationship. You are.”

"Yeah, well, not so much anymore." Blaine chuckles, tired eyes lifting to meet Kurt’s.

"You have your moments." Kurt raises a hand to cup Blaine’s cold cheek. "You have to trust me."

“I do trust you.” Blaine turns into Kurt’s hand and kisses his wrist, right above the pulse that calls to him incessantly, echoing his need. Blaine doesn’t know if it’s the love he carried over into this immortal life or if that need has always been there, but he has a bond with Kurt – one that would devastate him if it was broken. “It’s that guy I don’t trust. I’ve been to your midnight rehearsals. I see the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.”

“And do you remember the way I used to look at you at Dalton when I thought you weren’t paying attention?”

“Yeah,” Blaine answers with a wistful laugh. “Yeah, I do.” If Blaine closes his eyes, he can see those furtive glances - Kurt's magical blue eyes grazing Blaine's face before returning to his books, smile growing, cheeks burning red.

God, he misses those days. Misses the excitement of newborn love, the kind of urgent, drama-filled attraction that happens only in high school. He mourns the fact that their life together, the one they had planned so carefully, came to such an abrupt end.

It was all his fault.

And nothing he can do will fix it.

“Well, I still do.” Kurt leans in close and presses a kiss to Blaine’s lips. Blaine smiles into it, wants it to go on forever, even when he feels his strength ebbing away. As the sun rises higher in the sky, Blaine’s need to find somewhere dark to rest amplifies, but he’ll do anything to stay like this and keep kissing his boyfriend.

But he can’t, even if he could convince Kurt to play hooky and stay home with him, and that’s one more thing he has to be jealous of.

“I should let you get back to your cover-up,” Blaine says, relinquishing his grip on Kurt’s hand. Kurt looks at his vanity, at the army of small bottles and jars awaiting him, all very expensive. And not a one of them more important than his boyfriend. Not even his clear, alabaster skin is more important to him than Blaine.

“You know what? Fuck it!” Kurt jumps up the bed and pulls Blaine along with him. “So what if I wear a scarf that doesn't match? No one at NYADA really knows fashion anyway."

"What about ... what about the play?" Blaine argues but he's not fighting. He couldn't if he wanted to.

And Lord knows, he doesn't want to.

"I’ll have the makeup girl cover them up. Let her earn her keep. This way, everybody gets to see the marks my baby gave me.”

“Really?” Blaine raises an eyebrow. 

Kurt tugs Blaine on top of him, and Blaine carefully settles over Kurt’s body.

“Yup. In fact, I think I can handle a few more, if you’re not too tired, that is.” Kurt loops his arms around Blaine’s neck, threading his fingers into his hair. His skin may be unnaturally cool to the touch, but his hair still feels like silk. It’s one of Kurt’s favorite things about Blaine’s new body.

“I think I can do that,” Blaine says, biding past the daybreak and finding a clear spot on Kurt’s neck. “We’ll give that makeup girl a run for her money.”