#like I’m not even gonna pretend I’m normal I’m such an anomaly bro

[selfinserttothestars]

This is me, having read all 19 available chapters of book 7 in what was probably an hour (maybe an hour + 30??? Idk I wasn’t keeping track) because I constantly crave lore.

[grayishgiggles]

A Friend in Need

Hobart Brown was a stoic man. No, not stoic like Miguel, but it took an awfully huge thing to disrupt his demeanor, to throw him off his uncanny rhythm.

That is what scared Pavitr Prabhakar at this moment, as both of them sat on the floor of his colorful and warm apartment. The lanky man beside him adjusted a tuning peg on his guitar with a shaky hand. Not only that, but the more than normally chaotic colored outline around his figure was brewing like a storm, like a kid’s drawing made with every crayon color. He’d been like this since they came back from Spider HQ.

The pair were sent on a mission not long ago, to take care of yet another anomaly. It couldn’t have gotten better, to be honest. It was an easy catch and transportation of the villain. Heck, Miguel even seemed satisfied with their work. He even gave a smile. But the Spider-Punk’s color remained uneasy, and it didn’t seem to be wearing off with the change of scenery.

Spider-Man India knew better than to ignore his friend’s feelings.

“You doing ok, Hobes?” Pav broke the silence.

The young punk stopped his fiddling, making eye contact for the first time in what felt like forever. He eyed his guitar, and gained control of his once shaky hand. “Ah shit.”

“What’s up, man?”

“No point lyin’ to you,” he sighed, “just got spooked, that’s all.”

Pav nodded, “that’s okay. It happens.”

Hobie scrunched his face up, picking at a sticker on the guitar’s base. “Din’t think the anomaly would be a…”

“…police officer?”

He bit his pierced lip. “Din’t know that. Ya think Miguel would tell me: a Green Goblin cop, that’s who we’re after. Fits the character, greedy bastard out for power,” he chuckled sadly.

“…but goddamn… he looked too much like that bloody bitch that killed my friend.”

Hobie smoothed out the sticker he was picking. It’s like he had more to say, but getting the words out were too hard right now. He took a deep breath, giving his buddy a small smile. “But he’s long gone now. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

“You seem pretty worried,” Pavitr frowned, cocking his head to the side. “You gonna be okay?”

“Pav, my man, I’ll be fine. Ya know what I’m about.” The punk puffed his chest a little, feigning his usual confidence.

That only made his friend giggle lightly. He put a hand on Hobie’s knee. “It’s ok to be shaken up, bro! No shame in it! I’m here!”

Hobie exhaled. Pavitr’s smile was contagious, too contagious. “You’re too fuckin’ softhearted, mate. Love that ‘bout you.” He leaned into his friend’s kind touch, his colored outline flashing to a warm orange. “Thanks.”

“You know I’m not done! Tell me, what can I do to help you?”

Oh, Hobie didn’t think that far yet. He gave a loose shrug. “I ‘unno. Just need to get this pang outta my chest.” He said, holding his hand near his heart. “Ts’like Gwen doin a drum solo.”

Pavitr scooted closer. “Well maybe a hug?”

“Mmmm…maybe somethin’ to take my mind elsewhere,” the punk suggested.

Pavitr leaned on his shoulder now as he thought, letting out a hum. “Hmm… we could always bother Miles!”

“Nahhh he don’t wanna see me like this.”

“Hooooobieeeee,” the shorter man whined, clutching his arm, “you’re making this hard on purpose now!”

The laugh from Hobie confirmed it, a relieving sound to hear. Pavitr punched his arm gently, “ahalright, if you’re not gonna give me an answer, I’ll tickle you to cheer you up!”

“Says the most ticklish goddamn person on earth,” Hobie spat back, not missing a beat.

Pavitr gasped dramatically. Without saying another word, he pretended like he was gonna go, but was yanked back by Hobie’s arm. It almost felt desperate. “Wait I was doggin’ mate! You can tickle me!”

Pav’s eyes practically sparkled. It wasn’t often that Hobie was in the mood for tickles. Usually he was in the mood for tickling… tickling Pav. “Really?”

The nod from his friend immediately made him pump his fists. “Yes!!!”

“‘Ey,” Hobie grabbed the eager hands reaching out towards him, “nothin’ too crazy, ‘Kay? Not lookin’ to pass out.”

“I’d never!” The young man said, watching his friend adjust himself, laying on the floor of the room. “You tell me when you’ve had enough.”

The punk gave a thumbs up. “Got it, mate.”

“Alright,” Pav climbed on his legs, getting comfy. He smiled, watching the outline of Hobie turn pink. “You nervous?”

“Nah.”

“You’re pink thouuughh,” his tone was laced in mischief, placing his hands on Hobie’s stomach, only covered by his thin and messily made spider-suit. He felt him flinch. “You’re always pink when excited!”

“Bruv y-yohou better shut up-!” It was taking everything in his power not to grab Pav’s hands, Pav’s now wiggling hands. Oh god. He was tickling now. Hobie slapped his hands over his mouth. “PFFt-!”

Pav simply chuckled, letting his nimble fingers dance around his tummy. “Aw don’t hide your laugh from me! C’mon, Hobieeeee!” His hands gave his sides a quick squeeze as encouragement.

“ACK-!” Hobie’s hands grabbed Pav’s out of instinct, “ohMYGAWd!!”

Like it was nothing, the strong arms of Pavitr pushed Hobie’s arms up and away. “Nuh uh uh! You keep those up there! You better not punch me!”

“Ihihihi might!”

“Then I’ll just web your arms down!”

Hobie narrowed his eyes threateningly. “Don’t.”

Pav wasn’t one to wear a shit-eating grin, but this was an exception. “Then keep your arms uuuuuuup!”

He heard his friend do something he rarely did: groan in annoyance. Of course that groan was replaced with a hearty chuckle once Pav wiggled his fingers at him.“There’s that smile I love!”

Hobie already felt like spontaneously combusting. It was something about Pavitr and his stupidly silly way of tickling that made him break into a goofy grin, and also the fact he was the one receiving. This wasn’t a usual spot for him to be in. Was it unnerving? Yes, but the pangs in his chest were barely felt over the fluttery butterflies in his stomach.

And then Pav was back to the side squeezes.

“BRuhuhuhuvvv!” He snorted, his boots hitting against the floor. Hobie was trying to focus on kicking his legs so he wouldn’t give his friend a bloody nose. Pav didn’t make this easy at all. He felt fingers slip into his vest, then dig into his rib cage. “AH SHIHIHIT!” Hobie blurted, twisting from one side to the other. The crop top he had on was doing nothing to protect him. 

“I gotcha good!” Pav teased, leaning closer. Now he was gonna start being mean. Wait, he wasn’t mean before? No, my dear reader, he wasn’t. “Awwww Hobieeee look at youuuuu!”

“SH-Shuhuhut the f-!” Hobie stopped himself, snorting again.

“Ohhhh? What was that? Hobie, you can’t swear at meeee! You know what’ll happen.”

Yeah, Hobie knew. A panicked grin spread across his face, avoiding eye contact with his shorter friend. “I-IHihihi d-din’t say nothin!”

“You sure?” Pavitr scritched into the punk’s lower ribs. He got the reaction he was searching for.

“FuHUCK!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” his goofy tone slipped into a more sly one. Hobie felt Pavitr adjusting himself around. “Nohoho c’mon mate y-yaha don’t gotta!”

Pav paused. “Is this a ‘stop?’” The mischief was absent in his voice.

Hobie finally looked at his friend, his face heating up. “I-I mean…”

“We can stop if this is too much. I’m only trying to cheer you up.” Spider-Man India had removed his hands, holding them up to gesture his compliance.

The outline around the punk stirred pink. Hobie wasn’t one for admitting things, even to someone like Pav. “I-I…” he clamped his mouth shut.

“It’s ok if you want more tickles!”

Oh come on Pav! It was hard enough to even ask for it.

That’s why Hobie was gonna do it his own way, a way his friend would get the signal. He took his hand off his mouth, showing a smirk. Slowly but surely, he lifted a middle finger at Pavitr. “Fuck off.”

Spider-Man India’s eyes went wide, not only wide but bright. “Hobart Brown!!” He gasped, feigning offense. “Okay, you asked for this.”

Even if it didn’t do much, Pav lifted Hobie’s crop top upward to expose his suit covered stomach more. He only did it to make the Spider-Punk anxious. Clearly it worked. The man was giggling. Yes, I said giggling.

“So…Hobart…what is a tickle monster’s favorite fruit?” Pavitr asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Aahaw shit yohohou’re bein’ a dick, now…”

“Answer the questiiionnnnn!” His fingers fluttered teasingly, making Hobie flinch. “Ah! Noho come on I’m naht answering!!”

“Ten…” he counted, “nine…eight…seven…”

Hobie scoffed, balling his hands into fists. “Imma kill you after this, I swear to non-existent deity.”

“Six…” Pav lowered his head a few inches, causing the stomach below him to quiver from chuckles. “Five…”

“Pav!”

“Four-“

“KAY FINE! It’s rahahaspberries! Raspberries, you fuckin tw-AHT!” Hobie almost bonked Pavitr on the head when he saw the guy dive face first into his stomach. He dissolved upon impact, wheezing. “YOHOHOU BASTARD!”

Pavitr raised his head, “what was that?”

“YOu-yohohou’re a basT-“

“PRRBBTTTT!!” Pav planted another raspberry mid-sentence, relishing in his friend’s free flying cackles. He felt his friend grab his head, digging his nails into his hair. He was definitely holding back from his instincts, which Pav appreciated from a self-preserving point, but also from a “my friend really wants to laugh” point.

The punk threw his head back, snorting. “Yohohou-y-yohohou’re killin’ meeEEHEHE!!” His suit wasn’t protecting him at all from the raspberry onslaught. “SHIHIT!”

“You hangin’ in there?” Pav looked up. Hobie panted coming back to reality for a sec. He loosened his grip on his friend’s head. “S-Sorry ‘bout that, mate. D-Dohon’t…don’t wanna rip your perfect h-hahahair out.” He took a bigger breath, “m’good…m-maybe a minute more and we stop.”

“Can do!” Pavitr smiled… then immediately went back to another tummy raspberry. Hobie almost folded in on himself, wheezes escaping his lips. “NAHA FUCK!”

It was by the third round of raspberries when Hobie tapped out, laughter getting a little too frantic. “OKAHAY! OKAYIMDONE!”

Like a switch turned off, Spider-Man India let up. He swished his hair out of his face and fixed it, smiling at the big ol’ grin across Hobie’s face. “Did I kill ya?”

His chest heaved with each pant, shaking his head at the question and pushing out his residual giggles. He peered at his stomach. “C-Close tho…” he mumbled, watching his friend roll off him and sit beside. “Y-You’re a menace.”

Pavitr grabbed Hobie’s now outstretched hand, pulling him up to sit. “But lookit that smile you got!”

His hand rubbed his face, sort of sore from smiling so much. “Yeaaaaahh shuddup.” He punched his arm playfully.

“How are you feeling?” Pavitr placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it. “Need water?”

“Please. Thanks.” Hobie coughed, remaining where he was as Spider-Man India reached for a bottle on his nightstand. He handed it to him. “…feel tired…but good. Dopamine’s some good stuff.” He twisted the cap off and downed it.

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s a nice feeling, right?”

Hobie shrugged as he drank. He took a breath, “yeaaaaah maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe?”

The punk squinted at him, then rolled his eyes. “You are.”

Pavitr grinned. This was a better sight to see. “It’s nice to see that smile again.”

For a split second Hobie’s outline went pink, then reverted to its neutral gray. “Thanks. You helped it, mate.”

“You hungry?”

“Starvin’.”

“I know a great place, c’mon!” Pavitr stood up, stretching. He grabbed his mask on his bed.

“You paying?”

“Aw, come on, Hobes!”

“You owe me after that.”

“Okay fiiiiine, I’ll pay… even though you liked tickle time.”

Hobie sighed, “you aren’t gonna shuddup, are you?”

Pavitr simply grinned, opening his window. “Nope!” He hopped through it, already swinging away.

It took longer for Hobie to get up. He felt the blood rush to his head when he stood up too fast, “shit.” It stabled after a few seconds. He grabbed his guitar, putting the strap over him. He made his way to the window, smirking when Pav kept beckoning him atop another building.

He’d catch up, don’t worry. The punk just needed to take a second and appreciate his friend.

[jerevino]

Sink In - Chapter 4

Pairing: Ryan/Gavin Plot: Vampire AU based on the post “vampires always like “i could kill you if I wanted” like? yeah? so could another human being. so could a dog. so could a dedicated duck. you arent special”

Chapter 1 / 2 / 3.  AO3 here.

Ryan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

He knew that his incredibly ludicrous plan had been a long shot, forming a list of possible outcomes in his head until he’d watched Gavin Free flee the bar. The first option had been the police; it was the most sensible solution for any normal man, but the slow reaction time had given Ryan hope. He was grateful that he hadn’t had to pack up and leave again, but it meant that the clearer options were slowly being crossed off.

The second had been blind hatred. Gavin had not seemed entirely angry, although Ryan also assumed that the Brit didn’t have much of a hateful bone in his body, from the few minutes they’d spent talking. The third was cool hostility, bribery, and manipulation to test and play at how much of a non-killer he really was.

What Ryan hadn’t anticipated was the cold shoulder.

He knew that it would take Gavin time to process all of the information, and that he likely wouldn’t hear from him at all for a few days. But days turned into weeks, and after twenty long days of no contact, Ryan was beginning to question his choices more so than he already had in the days previous.

Seriously - What kind of childlike dickhead cut off all contact after all that had happened. In all his years, and all the times he’d foolishly tried to let someone in on his lifestyle, not once had anyone been catty enough to ignore him without a big blowout first. It was getting on Ryan’s nerves, and he wished he could just track Gavin down and confront him. But intruding on Gavin’s life would only do the opposite in gaining his trust, so Ryan succumbed himself to a tense game of waiting in frustration.

Ryan hadn’t told someone in eight years. He hadn’t told someone because of what happened eight years ago; the discovery, the explosion of rage, the fear, and then -- the running. He’d had no choice but to up and leave, horrified by the disgust he’d caused in his girlfriend’s eyes. Since then, he’d always considered the best option to be silence and seclusion.

But something about Gavin Free had stuck, the stupid taunting and the reluctance to just turn him over ingrained in his head on a loop. The Brit was obviously horrified by the entire situation, but there was something else, something Ryan had clung to, something he hadn’t seen in years. Beneath all the disgusted looks and gulps of fear (something Ryan was used to) had been a layer of curiosity. And that was more than he’d gotten a taste of in decades.

Ryan needed Gavin to know, to understand, and he wasn’t even sure where the strength of his need had come from. He was desperate, and impatient, and just really goddamn lonely.

And so he waited.

~

Gavin was losing his mind.

After his meeting with Ryan, his world had done a complete one-eighty. Geoff was concerned by the entire situation, but seemed wary of bringing it up with Gavin. He dropped subtle hints, wondering what Gavin was going to do - He couldn’t stay with Geoff forever, and if his apartment wasn’t safe, what then? But Gavin was an expert at deflection, and promised Geoff that things were being worked out.

Things were most certainly not being worked.

His thoughts were plagued by this sudden new reality he was living in; a world where vampires might exist, and serial killers could be surprisingly friendly, and that someone as simple as Gavin Free could end up in the middle of it all. He wasn’t sure what to think, and the more he thought, the more he panicked. The problem was that he was being forced to think about the situation at all, to consider the possibilities and make a decision from there.

And the worst was that he was starting to believe it. Belief was conditional, though, for his own sanity. Maybe Ryan Haywood was the anomaly, a freak of nature and the only one of his kind. He could handle one strange being, one person with a curse found only in young adult novels and horror stories. His thoughts strayed to something else Ryan had said, you might be a lot safer knowing we’re out there.

No. One vampire. He could stomach one vampire. Start there, Gavin.

The next issue was his apartment. While some of his concerns had been quelled, Gavin still wasn’t sure just how safe he’d be on his own. Maybe Ryan insisted that there was no need to worry about him, but Gav figured it was smart to wait before trusting the words of a deadly killer. Maybe he could get some new deadbolts, or a machete, or a guard dog. That would put some of his unease to rest.

He knew he should have called, if he wanted to sate the rest of his curiosity. Ryan had given him a number for a reason, and Gavin should have taken advantage of his new source of information. But the very thought of making any contact just yet made his stomach turn, so instead, he focused on other things; friends, work, vampire research. His film shoot had gone well, and he’d gotten some uncut footage back from the director. It might have only been a small indie film, but this was a step in the right direction. He wondered briefly if his career would come to an end if he got tangled up in the lives of vampires. That was another thought that put him off.

So he’d called up Jeremy for real this time, asking him to go for drinks. Anything for a distraction. Anything to get away from Geoff’s silent judgement. Anything to forget about Ryan bloody Haywood and his shitting vampire curse.

~

“The movie’s gonna be ten times better with your slowmo, dude. How much are they paying you, anyway?” Jeremy was grinning at him over a rum and coke, cheeks tinged red as he trespassed into drunk territory. It was nice to see him, Gavin decided. It had been far too long, and Jeremy had a way of making people feel a lot lighter. Bouncier. Good.

“Its nothing spectacular, but its more than the last shoot. A much better film, too, from what I’ve seen. They hired a couple of bigger actors, who’ve actually been on TV. Should be pretty good - might make it into a few festivals, even!” Gavin nursed his own drink, shrugging softly. He hadn’t signed on to the shoot for the publicity of it all, even if it was a bonus. He just loved filming, and hoped to do it on a more professional scale some day.

Jeremy tilted his head thoughtfully, although there was a glazed look in his eye. Must’ve been the rum, Gavin decided, before a split second later Jeremy spoke again. “How long was the shoot? You look exhausted, Gav, must have taken a lot out of you, huh?”

That threw Gavin for a loop. The shoot had ended a few weeks ago now, a detail he’d conveniently left out. It was easy to mistake Jeremy for being a bit slow - the muscles, the occasional frat bro attitude, and his tendency to use like as often as he breathed. But in truth, Jeremy was incredibly observant, and Gavin shouldn’t have as been surprised by the comment as he was.

“Oh, uh…” Gavin started, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head. “It sure did.”

Jeremy raised a brow, sipping noisily at his drink, and Gavin suddenly felt like he was being scrutinized with an all too careful eye. “You good, man? If you’re too tired, we can head home. I’m pretty fucking gone, so I don’t mind.”

Gavin had never wanted to tell the truth so bloody bad in his entire life. Jeremy was good, and kind, and understanding despite what appearances might suggest, and he was one of Gavin’s best friends. He would get it, he would help figure out what Gavin was supposed to do. He ached with the strength of it, words getting lost in his throat.

Instead, he flashed Jeremy a brilliant smile and ignored the urge like usual. “That might be a good idea. Lookit your little cheeks, all red, ooooh Jeremy, you’re right buggered up, aren’t you?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, but it was with good humour. He plopped a bill down on the table for the drinks, and moved to shrug on his jacket. Gavin was grateful that the conversation had moved away from him, because he wasn’t as strong as he wanted to be, and a slip-up like that could be costly.

“We should do this again soon, Gav. And you should get more drunk, ‘cause I’m doing too much of the work. You good to get home?”

Gavin nodded, already requesting an Uber. He smiled, waved at Jeremy as he left, and then instantly deflated. He shrugged off his jacket, and decided to order another drink to gather up the right amount of bravado needed to go through with his decision.

To Haywood, 9:42 P.M: Clementine’s, on Government. Now. We need to talk.

~

Geoff wasn’t fucking stupid.

He knew there was something going on, because as much as Gavin tried to pretend that he was a ball of god damn sunshine, Geoff could see right through it. He didn’t know what exactly, but he had a pretty strong sense that it had to do with witnessing a fucking murder. Which, for the record, Geoff still thought he should have reported. Who doesn’t do that? Who sits on it and lets it eat them up inside?

Gavin fuckin’ Free, that’s who. And it was driving him crazy.

Geoff didn’t want to push it, because he knew that as much as he could be stubborn, Gavin had a surprising resilience himself. But the Brit’s stupid mind was set, and Geoff wouldn’t be the one to tattle; he just wished Gavin would. Staying at his place was fine, but Geoff couldn’t house him forever, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Gavin hadn’t thought of a solution just yet.

And now he’d gone out for drinks with Jeremy again, and while Geoff wasn’t the jealous type, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jeremy was in on it, too - and the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Was Gavin sharing information with him, because he trusted Dooley’s opinion more? It didn’t seem fair, considering all that Geoff had done already. He wanted inside Gavin’s head, so that he could stop fuckin’ worrying, but Gavin was a conniving little shit and his ideal end goal seemed pretty impossible right now.

He supposed he’d just have to give it time.

~

Gavin was far too many drinks in by the time Ryan showed up.

The more he drank, the more his brain muddled and the less he thought about the possible implications of his decision. He’d briefly considered that Ryan might not show up at all, but he’d washed away the thought with another Moscow Mule. Gavin had no game plan, no structure to follow, aside from the questions raging in his head and the bravado of a lot of alcohol. He was lost in thought, staring deep into his drink as though it could solve his problems, when the clearing of a throat roused him from his inner monologue.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” Ryan said smoothly, sliding into the chair opposite him where Jeremy had been sitting an hour beforehand. “You seemed pretty urgent. Has something happened?”

Gavin stared at Ryan for a few seconds to long, eyes bloodshot. When he spoke, his words were slurred and slow, betraying his current state. “You’ve driven me bloody mental, is what’s happened. I can’t stop thinking about it all. You… You’re an arse, Haywood, and I think you owe me a flippin’ drink for this.”

Ryan quirked a brow, devilishly so, and it pissed Gavin the ‘eff off. “You asked me here… To buy you a drink?”

Gavin spluttered, reaction time slow and sluggish. “No! Well, yeah, that’s part of it, but I’ve got questions, too, and you owe me for the mess you’ve made.”

Ryan nodded sagely, forgoing a response in favour of flagging down a waitress. Gavin was too busy fuming to hear what he said, but when he turned back around, the git was smiling.

“What do you want to know?” He asked finally, offering Gavin a casual shrug as though to say, ‘I’m an open book.’

“Well, I… For starters, I want to know how many bloody people you’ve killed. I’m trying to see both sides here, but its hard when I know people die, innit?”

Ryan paused, lips pursed in discomfort. Gavin couldn’t believe he’d struck a nerve so early, but the other man was quick to recover. “I don’t know. I used to keep count, but it… It did me more harm than good. I’ve lost track.”

The sorrow in Ryan’s voice might have been a trick of Gavin’s drunk ears, he decided. Losing track of how many people you’d killed sounded awful to him, but it led into his next question. “So… How long have you been one, then? A vampire, or whatever.”

Ryan gave a wry smile at that one, waiting until the waitress had set their drinks down before answering. “Twenty four years. I was turned in 1985, and the rest is history.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “You’re thirty-two, then? You said last time you’d be fifty-six. Thirty-two’s not a bad age to be forever, is it?”

Ryan was surprised that Gavin had remembered that detail, given the glassy look in his eyes, but he decided not to comment on it. He supposed the shock of something so foreign would make anyone analyze all the details. “Its not awful. I’d rather this than twenty-two, or sixty-eight.”

Gavin tilted his head, expression thoughtful. “So.... You were alive in the seventies? You experienced disco, and the wars, and - You’re ancient.”

Ryan scoffed, taking a long sip of his drink before answering. “Fifty-six is not that old. You’re basically a child, anyway, so you don’t get to talk.”

“I’m twenty-four! That’s completely adult.”

Ryan laughed unabashedly, a sound that had Gavin spluttering all over again. He knew inwardly it was wrong to enjoy this, because odds are that the Brit would turn tail and run the second things got uncomfortable again. But it was nice to laugh, and forget, and enjoy himself for a few moments.

They went silent for a while, Gavin carefully sipping his drink and Ryan alternating between watching him or the people around them. When Gavin spoke again, his voice was far quieter than it had been previously, and there was a distant look in his eye.

“Do you have to kill them?”

Ryan did his best to hide the flinch, hoping that Gavin was drunk enough not to notice. His voice was tense when he responded, and hoped that that was also lost on the inebriated Brit. “What do you mean?”

Gavin frowned, shifting nervously in his seat. “Well, I mean - Do you have to suck all their blood out? Couldn’t you just… Take a little and go? Why do they have to die?”

Ryan supposed that was a fair question; one that he himself had wondered time and time again, after each and every kill. Why did they have to die? “The curse, it’s… It’s not easily controlled. After I’ve fed, I feel pretty normal. But the desire builds, and becomes hard to ignore, and when I finally do taste the blood, its - I can’t control it. And I’m not satisfied until I’ve had every last drop.”

Gavin grimaced, slurping up the last of his drink with a disgusted look on his face. “Oh… So it’s like taking a piss.”

Ryan balked, brows high on his forehead in confusion. “I-- What?”

“You know! Like, when you really gotta piss, it’s hard to ignore. And once you start going, stopping is super difficult. Its like piss, but you’re sucking up instead of spewing out.”

Ryan stared at Gavin with a gaze so intense, it made the Brit shift uncomfortably in his seat. In truth, Ryan couldn’t believe how carefree the response was, disgusted but not horrified. Gavin had taken it so easily, and maybe that was just the alcohol talking, but Ryan had not experienced something so close to acceptance in decades. He clung to it like a lifeline, soaking it in for as long as he could before something terrible happened.

Finally, when Gavin looked as though he was ready to run out of the sheer discomfort of it all, Ryan laughed. It was hearty and good, and the relief that flooded across Gavin’s face only made him smile more.

“Yeah, sure. Its just like taking a piss, if you want to put it that way.”

They talked for a long while after that, Gavin getting progressively more drunk, asking Ryan a plethora of ridiculous vampire related questions that shouldn’t have been as funny as they were. Ryan obliged him each and every one, taking the obscurity of them in stride. Gavin grew increasingly more interested, words slurring together, but never losing his enthusiasm.

Finally, two in the morning rolled around and they were forced to pack up and leave. Ryan offered their server a kind smile, and paid off the whole tab, while Gavin struggled to get his jacket on. Ryan hadn’t realized the extent of the Brit’s intoxication, because he couldn’t stand without wobbling dangerously, and the look in his eyes was far away from there.

In a moment of poor judgement, Ryan reached a hand out to steady him. Gavin tensed, but did not push him away, so he took that as his chance to carefully lead Gavin out of the building and into his car.

“You can’t drive…” Gavin said in a moment of clarity, glaring down at the vehicle.

“I’m not drunk.” Ryan said simply, carefully lowering Gavin into the passenger seat.

“But-- You were drinking.”

“Diet Coke. I don’t drink alcohol.”

Gavin looked like he was about to protest, but Ryan was already circling the vehicle to climb into the driver’s side. The Brit didn’t say anything else, on the verge of sleep in his seat - And didn’t say anything again until they pulled up outside his apartment, and Ryan was helping him out of the vehicle. “Wait - This is my place.”

Ryan frowned quizzically, guiding Gavin into the elevator. “Yeah, I’m taking you home. You’re very drunk.”

“I-- Okay.”

Ryan had to wait for Gavin to pull out his keys, but he managed to get him inside and into bed with his shoes off, and a glass of water on the night stand. Maybe he was pushing his limits, but he wasn’t an asshole, and leaving Gavin to suffer in his drunken state wasn’t in his nature. He turned to leave, when Gavin grabbed his wrist.

“You’re real.” He said firmly, before his eyes closed and his hand fell limp against the bed.

Ryan smiled, turned heel, and let himself out of the apartment, while Gavin dreamed of a smiling face with canines glinting.