Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Look, being a vampire is really fricken inconvenient.

Like a shadow, he fluttered over the rooftops. His shoes clacked irritatingly against the roofing tiles, sounding much like an Irish tap dancer.

You think we're sparkly, semi-all powerful beings, but we're really not. Most of the myths they tell you about us are either wrong, or they downplay our problems. Hell, we downplay our own problems, because we’re convinced we have to be perfect. And considering how it’s socially unacceptable to be talking about our own existence, it's pretty hard to correct anyone.

Attempting to jump to the next roof, the brunet man stumbled over his cape and almost slipped off of it, only just barely managing to grab ahold of a weather-vane, which he clutched onto for dear life. I need to get out more...

Hell, I don't even fly! Cause guess what, it's not just one bat you turn into, because that would be a claustrophobic nightmare. No, you turn into about one-hundred and fifty of them. And they're all stupid animals, so it’s really hard for them to remember where you’re supposed to be going. And don’t even get me started on reforming. It’s like the biggest sneeze you've ever taken but backwards, which isn't fun.

Scrambling up the steep incline, the vampiric man stared out over the houses below him and ground his teeth together. They ached a little. Well, okay, they ached a lot, a clear sign that he'd been neglecting his health recently. But come on, when you couldn't even go out in the sun without an umbrella so that you were always in the shade, it was kind of inconvenient to worry about your health.

To be fair, I'm not exactly the most competent of vampires. Actually, I'm a pretty crappy one. It’s almost embarrassing how bad I am. I wish I had an excuse, but honestly, I just wasn't made for this life. It's too... Lonely. And mean. And cut throat, literally. I want to have a life, to be social, to have friends, but like this, I'm kind of screwed.

Rubbing at his jaw, Lance let out a sigh and half slid, half stumbled down the roof before leaping to the next one. Okay, it wasn't that he was out of shape or anything; he was fine, but come on, who's idea was it for vampires to only be allowed to travel by rooftop? It was inconvenient! But apparently it was in bad form to walk on the street like a bloody peasant. Internally rolling his eyes, the man continued his midnight jaunt, headed for the only reason he'd bothered to get out at all.

Feeding.

The word alone made him cringe inwardly with revulsion. He hated it; hated the concept, hated the methods and the means. More than anything, he hated that no matter how long he held out, sometimes going for months at a time between feedings, he still had to come back to it. It made him feel like a failure, not just as a vampire, but as a decent being who could control himself.

Some might have considered his reluctance as a sign that he wasn't cut out for this life, and Lance would have wholeheartedly agreed with them. Personally, he'd have much rather make friends with the various pretty girls he'd met rather than biting them once and not even sticking around till morning. But you could only survive off of Synthetic blood for so long. Eventually, you had to actually do the dirty work, apparently. It all felt rather unfair.

Some people, admittedly, were pretty good at the whole vampire lifestyle. They put on the cape and slicked their hair back into those widow's peaks, talked with the accent, and generally got pretty good at breaking into people's houses. Hell, they seemed to enjoy it, all the elitism and mystique. But to be honest, the brunet would have traded it all in a second for a bit of normalcy. Walking down the street in the sun and not having to act like some sort of creepy weirdo all the time. You know, actually talking to people. But he'd been cursed, born into a family of vampires, and there wasn't much he could do about it.

So here he was, once again. Off to find someone to temporarily inconvenience so he wouldn't shrivel up and go comatose or something.

Thankfully, he wasn’t really looking tonight, he’d already found them the evening before. That had been a trip, stumbling around roofs and cursing every time his ankles tried to twist on him. But then he’d found someone that made his mouth water.

Or rather, he'd smelled them.

His knees had gone weak just from a single wiff. If he hadn’t been holding onto something at the time, he would have fallen off of the roof. God, it had been the best thing he’d ever caught the scent of, and considering how long he’d gone since last eating, it had made him whimper aloud.

She must be something else, Lance figured, as he counted the houses that were passing underneath him. Most girls didn't smell quite that enticing, though it might have just been that he was hungry. He hadn't even had to lay eyes on her to know that she'd taste unfortunately good. Which is why he was making the extra trip out here at all, because if he was going to suck someone's blood, they might as well not make him feel mildly queasy afterwords.

Still, he thought bitterly. There were only so many nightgowns you could tear before the idea of sinking your teeth into anyone started to get to be a hassle.

When he was younger, he’d been taught how to do this, how to break into someone’s house with class; how to properly feed so that it wasn’t a disgraceful mess. Even then, when he hadn’t known any better, he’d hated it. Then he’d gotten older, realized how screwed up the whole thing really was, and wished that there was another way.

Over time, he’d learned that there wasn’t an out. So he kept his head down, fed when he absolutely had to, and tried to be as nice as he could about it. And if being picky kept him from craving blood more frequently, then he’d be picky, practicality be damned.

As he finally got closer to his destination, Lance was abruptly hit with a powerful wave of that same scent that made his mouth water and his teeth ache. Oh god, he hated that he had to do this, but sometimes, he just couldn't even begin to control his own nature. Movements becoming slightly less awkward as he stopped thinking and just started acting, Lance landed on the roof of the girl's house and stood there silently for a moment, back-lit by the moon, before slipping like a shadow down onto her terrace.

There she is . Lance could see the outline of her form in bed, the white cotton of a nightgown ghosting down over pale legs. With his superior vision, he could see the way those shoulders shifted with every breath, and he could easily make out the black hair that tumbled out over the pillow in a soft cloud. It wasn't as long as one might have expected, but Lance found that he liked the shorter look.

He always tried to take the time to pay attention to these sorts of things. After all, who said that he couldn't appreciate the beauty of those he was about to dine on?

As his cape seemed to naturally straighten itself out, dusting the floor as it was meant to do, Lance tipped his head back and controlled the furious cravings that were attempting to overpower his mind. Slowly, his upper lip curled slightly, revealing a gleaming pair of fangs. He could feel guilty about this tomorrow; tonight, he was going to try and enjoy himself.

Slipping a hand out, Lance twisted the knob of the door, and was unsurprised when it simply clicked open. Doors had a tendency of doing that when a vampire touched them. As it swung in, silent as the night, Lance stepped into the room. Instantly, he was overwhelmed with the smell. It was so different from the other human's he'd feasted on; thicker, intoxicatingly strong. Hell, he couldn’t help but wonder if someone else had already fed on this girl, because how could anyone resist a smell that powerful.

Thankfully, he supposed, it didn’t work like that.

Eyes sliding open, staring hungrily at the form half hidden by the covers on the bed through slitted eyes, Lance slowly moved forward, his body kicking into autopilot. This was something that was ingrained into him, woven into his very bones. However much he hated it, Lance knew he’d never be able to stop himself.

One of the girl's hands was covering her face, which she'd pressed into the pillow, and the other was clenched tightly around the corner of the sheets. Though her shoulders seemed a little broad and her lines a little harder than Lance had at first observed, he found himself craving her blood all the more. This close, it was hard to even stand still. What would it taste like, he wondered, as his fangs pricked delicately at his lower lip. Would it taste as good as she looked? As sweet? Because surely someone who smelled this good would taste divine.

"You know, the others say that it's an honor for a human to be fed on like this," Lance mused, his whole body thrumming with anticipation as he leaned over, gently brushing the black hair away from their pale throat. "But really, I think the pleasure is all mine."

~

Keith could smell him the moment he entered the room.  Absently, he wondered how the devil the vampire had even gotten in. Allegedly, they weren’t supposed to be able to do that, but then he remembered that the whole being invited before they can enter thing was a load of crock and pushed it out of his mind.  It was just one of those stupid rumors the Nightwalkers had spread to make it less obvious that they were feeding on unwilling victims.

You could say that Keith loathed vampires, but that would probably be an understatement. He hated everything that they were, everything that they stood for, everything that they did to try and make themselves more amenable to humans. While they were revered, feared, and doted upon, Keith and the rest were...nothing.  Trash, ready to be thrown away at a moments notice.

So yes.  Keith hated them. With every fiber of his being.

So when the Nightwalker loomed over him, fangs at the ready and fingers already brushing at his hair, Keith didn’t roll over and give in. Instead, his hand snapped under his pillow before he shot up and growled, "I wouldn't , if I were you."  Leveling the knife he now held at the creature’s heart, the noirette carefully drew in even and level breaths. The silver blade in his hand glinted in the sparse moonlight and as he unshuttered the single oil lantern he kept on his desk with his free hand, he caught the gleam of the vampire’s glittering eyes.

As if the light snapped the vampire out of the trance he’d fallen into, the man stumbled backwards in surprise as Keith brandished his blade at him. Shocked, the Nightwalker attempted to take a step away only to get his foot tangled in his traditional cape. Watching in silent incredulity, Keith didn’t move as the vampire pinwheeled his arms, only succeeding in worsening his predicament. With a yelp, the brunet man went tumbling over backwards, landing squarely on his ass.

Then, as if he hadn't already made a fool of himself, he proceeded to exclaim, in a strangled voice, "Wait, you're a guy?"

That’s the most important thing to you right now?

Scrambling to get to his feet, apparently unconcerned with the blade still pointed at him, the vampire arched his eyebrows and all but wailed, "Come on, that's not fair! You smelled like a girl.”

Snidely, Keith quipped, “Maybe you should check more thoroughly first, if you care so much about who you’re sucking on.”

The vampire pressed a hand to his temple. “Good lord, I can't break into people's houses twice in a row, how are you supposed to expect me to get this right??" Gesturing at Keith, his face pulled into an exasperated expression, the man insisted, "You're even wearing a nightdress, what was I supposed to think?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Keith couldn't help the snort or the smirk that came after it. "Honestly, I don't give a rat’s ass what you thought I was or was not." Sliding to the edge of the bed, Keith kept the knife's point centered squarely on the Nightwalker's heart.  "On that note, I can wear whatever I damn well please inside my own home .  Why should I cater to the likes of you? "

Sticking his nose in the air, the vampire said snootily, "For your information, you smelled fucking magnificent, and I'm sorry if I was hungry, Mr. I like feeling a draft . I haven't eaten anything anything in almost four months." Glaring down at the knife, which was still pointed at him, the brunet reached out a finger and attempted to gingerly push it away.

Don’t you fucking start- Jerking it sharply, Keith was gratified when the vampire quickly pulled his hand away and gave him a hurt look. Puffing out his cheeks, the man asked, "Are you gonna put that away, or are we going to have a problem."

"The only problem I have, is that you are in my house.” Keeping his voice as calm as possible, Keith continued, “And because you are in my house and I didn’t invite you, I would like you to leave."  As he spoke, he noticed the way the man’s cloak fluttered out to reveal a dangerous looking silver and steel knife, and a shiver worked its way down the noirette’s spine.

To be honest, Keith was torn between saying to hell with it and hurting the man or running and locking himself in a closet somewhere.  He might hate Nightwalkers with every ounce of his being, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of how dangerous they actually could be.  And at that moment, Keith's only saving grace was that this particular Nightwalker seemed to be an idiot. And clumsy. And clearly in possession of more beauty than brains.

Deciding to take advantage of the momentary peace while he could, Keith scrambled back over the bed to stand on the other side and lowered the blade a fraction of an inch. Straightening his spine, the noirette said in a crisp voice, "I don't care how long it's been since you've eaten, Nightwalker , why don't you just drink Synthetic like the rest of them?

Apparently, that was one step to far.

In a second, the aura around the vampire went from being confused to deadly. Sweeping up and over the fourposter as if it weren’t there at all, the Nightwalker swept out a hand and knocked the blade out of Keith’s hand. As it skittered across the floor, Keith found his wrists being pinned to the wall as the man towered over him. For a second, the noirette felt pure terror run through his heart as he saw his own face reflected in those glowing eyes and felt hot breath on his face.

Then his wrists were abruptly released. Standing there, his eyes furious, the vampire rustled his cape and said, in a disgruntled tone, “For your information I do drink Synthetic. I drink it a hell of a lot more than is actually healthy, but sometimes, I have to go about it the normal way because guess what , unlike you I value my continued existence in this world."

Unable to form a response to that, Keith shut his mouth and pressed himself up against the wall, trying and failing to keep the fear out of his eyes. For a moment, the vampire stared at him with vindication, but then his eyes widened, and a wave of guilt crashed through those cerulean orbs.

Swiftly taking a step back, walking away from Keith, the vampire pressed a hand to his temple and muttered, "I'm sorry, that was too far.  I'm just tetchy right now, okay?"

Letting out the breath he wasn't even aware that he had been holding, Keith swallowed and silently offered up any number of prayers that the Nightwalker had opted to be polite instead of murderous. Masking the fear he was sure the other had seen, the noirette rubbed at his wrists, trying to dismiss the feeling of the man’s skin against his own, and watched as the vampire paced around his room in agitated silence.

"I do value my existence, vampire ," Keith pushed out in a shuddering voice, choking down the usual slur he would have used since it had seemed to anger the man. "It’s your kind that doesn't .  Your kind would rather use the rest of us for your own pleasure and then toss us aside like so much trash." Feeling that old, boiling emotion surface again, Keith tried to stamp it down.  If he got any angrier, any more worked up, he would cry, or worse; he might…

No, that’s not what they died for. That’s not what she died for. Shaking his head, the noirette blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and said hoarsely, "We aren't your playthings.  My mother was not your plaything."

The moment he’d said it, Keith wished he could curl into a ball and die, because that would hurt less. Before him, the vampire stopped pacing and stared at the floor, his hands clenching and his shoulders slumping with defeat. Of all the responses he’d expected to get, this wasn’t exactly one of them.

Keith knew, of course, that it wasn’t this Nightwalker’s fault. This man hadn’t dealt the first blow; he hadn’t left her bloody and broken, hadn’t killed her, but he was still one of them. It didn’t matter that he needed to feed to survive;  it didn’t matter that he hadn’t yet hurt Keith, he was still a bloody vampire. And as the silence stretched, the need to break down only grew in his stomach.

Unexpectedly  the brunet turned around and faced Keith, his eyes remorseful, his posture nothing short of regretful. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." As his insides gave another jolt, Keith’s shoulder’s trembled minutely as a shiver ran down his back. Why is he acting like this? If anything, the complete unpredictability of the situation was more terrifying than what a normal vampire would have done.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, the Nightwalker insisted, "I never- Look, I'm just trying to stay alive. I don't kill people for this, I don't hurt them." The words felt shallow, and Keith knew the man felt the same, because he let them trail off awkwardly.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," Keith muttered, throwing his gaze off to the side, unwilling to let this stranger see him cry.  The noirette felt it rise up inside him and growl as he continued to feel that fear and anger run through him.  He attempted to quiet it, but that only seemed to make it worse.  As the trembling in his limbs strengthened, Keith swallowed. "I-I think you should leave," he stuttered out, wrapping his arms around his middle. The feeling inside him kept growing stronger, and Keith wasn't sure how long he could keep it at bay.

Turning fearful, tear-filled grey eyes to the Nightwalker again, Keith backed himself into a corner and whispered, "I need you...to leave ." The sentence ended in a growl that almost made Keith himself yelp.

The vampire took a step back, the guilt in his expression obvious. "I- I'm really sorry about what happened," he repeated faintly, his eyes downcast. "I... guess I'll be going then."

Even as the brunet said the words, another heavy sound escaped Keith’s throat. Shit, I’m falling apart. Feeling pathetic, because dammit he should be able to stand up to one stupid vampire, the noirette pressed himself against the wall and shuddered, swallowing heavily. The Nightwalker kept backing up, holding up his hands slightly in surrender. "Um... Have a good night, I suppose," he attempted weakly.

Breath catching in his throat, Keith simply closed his eyes and tried to block everything out as one tear, then several more trickled down his cheeks. A moment later, there was the sound of a door swinging shut, and a rustle of a cloak outside, before being replaced by silence. The moment the vampire was gone, Keith sunk to the floor, all of that feeling inside him bursting like a soap bubble as a whine escaped his throat.

"Shit," he muttered, the furry ears that had just appeared on his head turning down and his infuriating tail tucking between his legs. "Shit…” Curling into a ball, Keith closed his eyes before softly sobbing his frustrations away.

Chapter Text

"I WILL STAND WHEREVER I WANT TO!!"

"CHRIST, YOU'RE GOING TO FALL INTO THE VAT! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS UNHOLY, STOP."

"NEVER!!" Pointing a long-handled ladle at Lance, who was still standing in the doorway, the small vampire demanded, "SPEAK NOW, MORTAL, BEFORE YOU ARE SILENCED FOREVER!!"

"Erm... You know, as much as I want to hear his story too, I really think you should get down," Hunk commented, poking two fingers together and watching the tiny figure with concerned, brown eyes. "Last time you fell in, I had to spend three hours trying to get Synthetic out of your hair."

Shifting his tiny glasses down his nose so he could look over at them, Shiro furrowed his brows and calmly requested, "Pidge, please-?"

Brandishing their ladle in his direction instead, Pidge insisted, "But then Lance might never tell me what happened!” In a dramatic, if high voice, the vampire exclaimed, “I have to know!”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you anyway,” Shiro soothed with a shrug, turning back to his work already.

Huffing loudly, Matt folded his arms and insisted, "If you ruin another batch of my work, I will drown you in it.”

“What, you mean this work?” Pidge asked, dipping their ladle into the vat and letting the Synthetic proceed to drizzle down back into the vat. “You mean, the work that Shiro and I helped you with?”

“Yes, that.” Duly unimpressed, the vampire ordered, “Get down here."

Groaning loudly, Pidge slipped down off of the edge of the vat and gracefully landed on the concrete floor, only to march over to Lance and stick the Synthetic covered ladle in his face. "Alright, mister, you had best get to explaining yourself. Tell me exactly what happened last night."

Holding up his hands, Lance loudly whined, "Aw, come on, why does everyone already know about it!? That's not fair." Though really, what could you keep from Pidge? When it came to them, nothing was sacred.

True to form, Pidge flopped a hand. "Hunk mentioned overhearing something about it from one of your family’s servants while in the kitchens; don't change the subject." Pushing their fluffy hair back from their face, the vampire insisted, "C'mon, I've been waiting all day to hear about this; don't leave me hanging."

Wandering onto the laboratory floor, trying to think of how to best work around the matter entirely, Lance moved past Hunk and Pidge, staring at the ceiling. "It's not as big a deal as they made it out to be," he muttered, remembering the way his aunt had all but shrieked at him at how utterly un-cultured he was behaving when he’d told her that no, he still hadn’t fed. "I chose someone, but after they woke up and shouted at me for a while, I decided not to provoke them further and left." It was an oversimplification, but Lance still wasn't quite sure how to feel about what had happened. "It's not that big a deal," he repeated, watching as the collection chamber of Synthetic bubbled and churned.

"You say that, but you're kind of acting... off, Lance," Hunk pointed out, turning so he could watch him as he walked away. "I mean, something's up, and if you’re trying to hide it, you’re failing.” When Lance hunched his shoulders slightly, the man added, “We're just worried."

"I'm worried,” Pidge began pointedly, their brows furrowing. “Because you haven't eaten in ages." Wringing the hem of their cape, the small strawberry-blonde muttered, "You had this all lined up. You only do this once in a blue moon; you can't afford to guilt trip yourself into running away." Gesturing at the heaving and groaning equipment behind them, they insisted, "Synthetic can't save you forever."

The laboratory they were currently holed up in belonged to Pidge's brother, Matt. The two of them, under the direction of Matt's consort, Shiro, had been instrumental in the creation of Synthetic, a blood substitute that could satisfy a Vampire's cravings without the need for any midnight jaunts. It wasn't perfect; hell, if you tried to survive on Synth alone you'd eventually shrivel up, but it definitely helped.

Unfortunately, as Pidge so concisely put it, Lance had trouble with the whole ‘actually having to have an occasional meal’ thing. From there, the nice, convenient system that he could have had started to crumble.

Sighing, Shiro stepped forward. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was looking down through those tiny glasses that he wore at the rest of them, as if judging the situation. Lance still wasn't sure what good they did him, being so small, but the thought fled him once Shiro started talking. "Lance, if you’re going to throw a fit every time this happens, why won't you just accept our offer?"

Lance groaned and shook his head. "No, you know it's not that same! Both you and Hunk are consorts . Your blood isn't… It isn’t right anymore. It doesn't smell right, and it definitely doesn't taste right." The brunet shuddered at the thought. “So thanks but no thanks, I’ll pass.”

In reality, they had tried that already, a few years ago, around the time that Hunk became Pidge's consort. Lance had felt physically ill for weeks afterwards. True, it kept him from shriveling into a raisin, but there was no second trial needed to help him decide how he felt about it.

Coming up beside Shiro, Matt sighed and plunked his chin on the man's broad shoulder. "Don't say we didn't try," the blonde vampire muttered.

Throwing up his hands, Lance argued, "I know you guys are trying to help me, but it's just...not that simple ."

Pidge grumbled loudly and fluttered their cape. "Except when you go and try to do it yourself, it never works, so clearly you’re not doing something right. You said she smelled perfect and delicious, and you even managed to smile at the idea of feeding. But now you're coming back and telling us that you just didn't? Make up your mind, for the love of god."

Absently picking up a half-filled beaker of Synthetic, Lance muttered, "Actually, it was a guy, not a girl." Pushing that fact aside, he ran a hand through his floppy hair before grinding out, "Gha! I just- you don't get it, Pidge, he got so upset, I couldn't do it to him." Remembering the noirette, the man's slimmer build and tiny, silver knife that he'd brandished like it'd do him any good, Lance sighed. "I mean, I could have overpowered him, but I didn't want to. I never do."

Walking over, Hunk rested a gentle hand on Lance's shoulder. Looking up at the man, Lance sighed again and hung his head. "Lance, he was probably just scared or something," the cook reasoned, attempting to be helpful. "I mean, how often do people actually have vampires breaking into their houses? It’s not as if everyone’s going to be able to handle it with composure.”

"That was the problem," Lance whined, putting the beaker back down so he could duck out from under Hunk's hand and walk towards the machinery. "He was scared; he started shaking! I can't just bite and feed on someone like that. It's not okay." Especially if what the man had told Lance about his mother had been even partially true. Biting someone like that would be cruel, and he hated to think that he was the mendacious sort.

“If he hadn’t woken up, then that would have been a different story, because then I wouldn’t have had to deal with knowing how he’d feel about the whole thing.” The vats and collection chambers shook and glanged around him, shuddering under the weight of their appointed tasks. “But he woke up; he looked at me. He looked me in my eyes, and he didn’t want me to so much as touch him.”

Ducking under one shuddering pipe and stepping over another, Lance kept talking, even though the sounds of the machinery were probably drowning him out. "I know that I'm a monster, but I don't want to feel like one all the damn time." As words started coming to his tongue almost faster than he could say them, Lance continued, "He just stood there in that nightgown and shook. And sure he was yelling at me, and he called me a Nightwalker, and maybe he was pointing a knife at me but that doesn't mean anything when I was able to knock it away with one hit."

Frustration welled up inside him as he recalled his own behavior. One of the biggest problems with going so long between feedings was the mood fluctuations. He could never keep his head on entirely straight. Either he was an idiot, or he lashed out, or he said stupid and dumb stuff that never needed to be said in the first place. He hated it, but he felt like a slave to it.

"Hell, why did I even do that?” he questioned himself derisively. “I scared him so badly, it's not- I don't like it. But I just reacted to him!" Smacking his head against a vat of some opaque sludge that was a byproduct of making Synthetic, Lance mumbled, "I can't get his face out of my head. I feel horrible."

"You're not." Glancing up, Lance found Pidge sitting on top of the vat he was leaning against, their face a mask of concern. Sighing, feeling stupid for unloading his problems onto his friends, who literally couldn't do anything to help, the brunet turned so he could press his back against the cool glass.

"Yeah, we say that, but people like Shiro and Hunk can't turn into bats, Pidge. They're not allergic to garlic; they can't hear people's pulses." Gritting his teeth, Lance tried not to think back to the way the man's heart had pounded so hard, it had sounded like it was going to explode. "Normal people don't have to break into someone's room in the middle of the night and suck their blood so they don't go crazy."

"Wow, that really... really tore you up, didn't it?" Matt asked, silently settling down beside Lance. Miserably, the brunet nodded and put his head down, face hot with shame. He knew that he was being stupid; this was the way society worked. People like Matt and Shiro might have been changing bits of it, but it was far from perfect. Lance didn't even have any room to complain; it wasn't like he knew how to make anything better. All I ever do is throw fits and sit around in the family mansion, useless...

"What happened last night, that's exactly why I don't feed," Lance mumbled, running his hands through his hair. "When the elders start telling stories about how funny it is to listen to people scream after waking up, I don't get it; I don't want to hurt anyone." Feeling pathetic, Lance groaned again and leaned back against the vat once more. Both Pidge and Matt were silent, which almost made him feel worse. "What, not going to mock me for it?" he asked derisively, only half joking.

"Why would we mock you for it?" Matt questioned after a few beats. As Lance turned his gaze to the blonde vampire next to him, he saw genuine curiosity in the man's eyes.

"I dunno," the brunet admitted, hanging his head once more. "Maybe because I'm the worst excuse for a vampire ever ?" There was a sliding sound from above him and in the next few moments, Pidge was poking their head under his, blocking his vision.

"Lance, why do you think Matt and I took consorts?" Blinking, Lance tried to remember the various explanations he’d been given in the past.

"Because you guys love them?" A blush crept into Pidge's cheeks and Matt chuckled.

"Yes, that's true," Shiro chimed in from the other side of the vat, arms still crossed as he smiled softly at Matt. "But it’s more than that. There was more than just love there. You'll find it one day. You’ll figure it out." Lance groaned at the poetically vague answer and Matt shook his head.

"Honey, you are terrible at this," the man muttered. Turning back to Lance as Pidge plunked down onto the floor with them, Matt continued, "The point of a consort isn't just the ease of access for blood. Pidge and I took consorts because we didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. I know the elders," he waved a hand around, theoretically encompassing all of the older vampires in the city, "-say that taking more than one consort is more convenient; more blood, more people to control. But that's not why we did it; because we don't want more than one. Shiro and Hunk are all we need. That way, we don't need to feed from strangers anymore."

Lance listened, but he had a hard time accepting it. It wasn't that he didn't want to believe his friends, but how was he supposed to understand that kind of a bond? He was a member of one of the Original families. He wasn't just allowed to go out and pick a consort. He had to have one chosen for him, if he were to have one at all. And he didn't want that. So he stuck to Synthetic, only feeding when he needed to.

If he was going to take a consort, he'd want to have one that would be his and his alone. He’d want to choose them, find someone that fit with him, who he could connect to. Lance wanted to have that love that the others talked about all the time. To be honest, he could picture spending his life with someone like that, growing old with them and living out his days peacefully. And if his consort, the one he loved, died...well, then he'd die, too. Because he wouldn't take another after that. His heart wouldn't be able to bear it.

Opening his mouth, Lance started to say you don't understand before taking a step back mentally and deciding against it. Pushing a smile onto his face, he said, "Yeah, I- I know." Feeling that knot of injustice at how stupid his life was, how controlled, the brunet continued, in a firm and sincere tone, "I really want that. It's just rough not knowing if I ever will, y'know?"

Matt nudged Lance's shoulder and said, "Yeah, that's what I said before Shiro said yes." Smiling kindly, the vampire insisted, "Now lighten up. You don't have to hurt people for the rest of your life; you aren't a monster, no matter how many people complain about the torn nightdresses. And maybe someday they’ll start making them with velcro, so they can’t even complain about that." That managed to get a smile from Lance, however tired.

"Yeah, just forget about the guy from last night.” Matt’s sibling suggested. Reaching over, Pidge flicked Lance's nose. “I mean, unless you're going to apologize to him for almost feeding on him, there's no point in worrying about it.” As if the very idea was hilarious, the tiny vampire rolled over and sprawled out over the concrete lab floor in fits of laughter. "Oh my god, that would be a beautiful conversation to watch. Hey, I just wanted to say sorry for not doing anything to you. Priceless."

Lance looked up, his eyes focusing on something only he could see as the words sunk in. As Pidge continued to giggle, Hunk called, "Oh yeah, what would he do, get the guy flowers?" Shiro held his breath like he was attempting not to laugh, while Matt just cackled outright.

Wheezing, gasping for air, Pidge choked back, "O-oh my god, yes." Putting a hand to their chest, Pidge, held the other out to the ceiling and said, in a dramatic voice, "Oh stranger of the male persuasion, clad in shimmering nightdress of white, please, take these roses as a token of my utmost apology! I am but a poor starving vampire~"

Attempting to hold back a chuckle of his own, Shiro chided, "Pidge, lay off of him; don't be mean." Lance just kept staring at nothing, his brain churning.

"Oh, come on, Shiro~" they crooned, wiggling their eyebrows at Hunk, who'd stepped around the edge of the vats. Holding out a hand to him, wriggling about, Pidge insisted, "It's just too funny~!"

Scooping Pidge up into his arms, which only succeeded in amusing the vampire further, Hunk raised his eyebrows at Lance. "I mean, as I’ve always said, if you're going to suck his blood, at least take him to dinner first."

Finally catching his breath, Matt said, "Okay, I'm pretty sure he gets it." Looking to Lance, he gestured at the intense concentration on the man's face and insisted, "Look, you've traumatized him."

Lance, meanwhile, felt like he'd had an epiphany.

Suddenly shooting to his feet, a grin spreading over his face faster than should have been possible, Lance said, "I'm gonna head out now!"

Furrowing their brows, Pidge made a discontented sound. "Wait, no, don't go! I'm sorry, I was just-"

"No, you're good." Grinning at them, Lance insisted, "You've never been better! I've just got... Um, I'll see you guys later, alright!"

Before his friends could try and stop him, Lance stumbled out of the machinery, his eyes alight with a crazy plan that had the chance of working. He could joke around with them any day; right now, however, he had a person to visit.

And possibly some flowers to buy...

~o~

"What do you mean he's unavailable !?"

The voice grated on Keith's heightened senses. His ears had gone back to normal sometime during the day as he slept and his tail had poofed back from whence it came. But that man's voice was enough to curdle milk.

"He wasn't feeling well, so he stayed in bed."

"And he missed work! Again! We had a rush today and he couldn't be bothered to get out of bed!?"

Groaning, Keith slid out of bed and shuffled to his trunk. He made quick work of changing out of his nightdress and into his normal attire. He hummed to himself as he shoved around some clothing until he found the leather cord he used to tie back his hair. His gloves were next. He was thankful that he's gotten them repaired. His scars were not the best thing to show to clients.

"Keith! You should get out here!" The voice that called to him was that of his landlady. Romelle was a sweet girl, despite being a vampire.

"Coming!" the noirette called back, tying his boots and walking from the room. As he pounded down the stairs quickly, his boss came into view, a large, surly man with a wiry beard that could use a good scrubbing. As soon as he skidded to a stop in front of the man, Keith was prepared for the shout.

"You have a late delivery to make!" his boss bellowed in his face. He forced himself to not recoil at the smell of the man's alcohol laced breath.

"Where to?" Keith asked, attempting to appear nonchalant.

"One of the labs. They ordered some new glassworks." A paper was shoved against Keith's chest and a crate of glass containers was slid to his feet. Then his boss left with no more than a grunt and a snort that resulted in a large globule of phlegm being spat on the floor.

Sighing, Keith watched the man's back recede into the fog covered alleyways. The sun had set ages ago, which was probably the only reason Romelle had been there at all. Fortunately for Keith, the blonde vampire had always been good at soothing others. Bending at the waist, the noirette scooped up the crate and wiggled his eyebrows at Romelle. "I'll be back soon."

"Be careful. Full moon is tomorrow night, Keith. Try not to get too stressed out."

"I know, I know. I'll watch where I'm going!" He called back over his shoulder as he made his way out the still open door of the foyer. Romelle was one of the few people who actually knew who he was, what he was and Keith was grateful for her trust.

The paper that Keith had been given was pointing him in the direction of the west side of the city. If he remembered correctly, there was a flower shop nearby. Maybe I'll pick up some peonies for Romelle. They were the blonde vampire's favorite flowers.

Keith blew a stray lock of hair from his face and quickened his steps. Humming under his breath, he stayed on the back alleys to avoid unwanted attention. It wasn't until he was almost at the flower shop, which was the halfway point, that Keith slowed down a bit. He would be entering a main street soon and didn't want quick steps to alert anybody of his presence. His scent was enough to draw attention.

Unexpectedly, as he drew nearer to the shop, he noticed that it was closed, which seemed rather odd. Most businesses in these parts didn't close until well after midnight because if their night faring patrons. Shrugging as he passed it by, Keith continued in his way. The lab he was headed for shouldn't be far.

Once get dropped off the glassworks and collected the payment, Keith began to make his way back home. He passed by the flower shop again and spied a silhouette in the window but as he turned to look closer, it disappeared. Well, none if my business. He really had wanted to get some flowers for Romelle but he guessed that that could wait for some other time. Thankfully, he was able to slink back into the alleyways and step lightly towards home.

Well, he wanted to go home, but Keith had to drop off the payment first. His boss's shop wasn't far, so once he'd given the surly man the money, and he had taken his own cut, Keith was home free.

As soon as the door shut behind the noirette, Romelle was peeking her head out of the kitchen.

"Everything go okay?"

"Yup," he answered, turned for the stairs. As much as he loved Romelle and chatting with her, he honestly just wanted to get back to his room and back to tinkering with the clock he had found broken in an alleyway the week before. "Went off without a hitch."

"Good. There's some bread and cheese up in your room for you. Make sure you eat it." The blonde vampire gave him a serious look and he rolled his grey eyes.

"Yes, mother." The girl giggled and went back to her own business in the kitchen. Keith made his way up the stairs, unbuttoning his vest and pulling off his gloves as he went. He hated that he had to get fully dressed to make late deliveries, but when a good fifteen percent of the population were vampires, well, the day didn't end when the sun sent down.

With that thought in mind, Keith pushed open his door.

The noirette suddenly went on high alert as his senses started sending off alarm bells in his head, and a familiar scent wafted towards him through the room.  It was only seconds later that his eyes landed on a lone figure, silhouette stark against the moonlight pouring in through the window, that hated profile marring the dusky evening.

In a soft growl, Keith pushed out, "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Er... Surprise?"

Instantly, Keith’s mood shifted into fury. Why the hell is he here again? He wondered, his body seething with a specific anger that was only directed at this particular vampire. Why did he come back now, why won’t he leave me alone, what does he want? Though the man looked non-threatening, Keith didn’t believe it for a second.

"Look," the Nightwalker started, putting out a hand and at least trying for a sincere expression. "I know that we kind of got off on the wrong foot last night, but-"

A low growl from Keith's throat stopped the man's words instantly. That darker part of Keith surged up, and it took all he had to keep it at bay. "Wrong foot," he ground out, his voice low and threatening. Slamming the door behind him, Keith surged forward, that strength he kept hidden surfacing as he grabbed the front of the vampire's cloak and physically lifted him into the air. "You broke into my home! You were about to attack me! That is far more than the wrong foot ."

Without even needing to see it, Keith knew that his eyes had turned. He could feel it, the sudden change in his own vision. It became clearer, the lines more defined in the darkness. At this point, he had to be careful. If he let the anger take any more control, his ears would change and his tail would form. Then he’d really be screwed.

But goddammit this man was in his house again !

He was lucky that his door sealed the room off, or Romelle would be able to smell the other vampire instantly, and well, Romelle was scarier than Keith was, even in his other form.

Meanwhile the vampire was regarding him with no small amount of shock. Apparently, he hadn’t expected Keith, a man several inches shorter than him, to lift him up like he was no more than a ragdoll. But to be fair, Keith was practically seething with rage, the beast inside of him snapping and pacing, wanting to be let out, to be allowed to dispose of this piece of filth. Though it was tempting, Keith restrained himself.

In return, the vampire attempted to pull an apologetic face.

"Ah, yeah, about attacking you; you see, it's kind of in the job description and-" Losing patience almost instantly, Keith shoved the vampire backwards once more, thumping his back hard against the window behind him. The pure power in his arms was telling, and Keith cursed inwardly at how quickly he was falling apart. Blinking, the vampire took a moment of his own to collect himself. "You're upset; I get that you're upset, but do you really have to throw me into things?"

Keith didn’t bother answering, his eyes were answer enough.

Sighing, the Nightwalker abruptly shoved the noirette back, hard enough to actually tear his cape where Keith had been clutching it. Dusting himself off, the vampire defiantly stood up straight and insisted, "I came to apologize, alright? Can we not throw each other into walls?"

The creature inside of Keith howled for release, to be able to shift forms and show this Nightwalker exactly what he was capable of, but he knew that he couldn't do that. He tried to focus on the vampire and just think, but as the beast hurled itself at his mental barriers, Keith’s senses went momentarily fuzzy. Goddamnit, I hate having to do this; I hate when it wins. But he had a vampire in his room, and that had to be dealt with. So despite knowing that this was going to be a very bad idea, he pulled his knife from his belt, yanked it from its sheath and placed it against his palm for all of two seconds before slicing into it cleanly.

The pain and the stinging that slithered up from the wound was immediate, as was the sudden intake of breath from the vampire. Glaring up at him, warning him to stay back or else pay for it, Keith clenched his fist and let the blood pool under his fingers. It oozed out from between them, forcing him to accept that in his haste, he’d cut a little deep. Oh well, it’ll just be more effective this way. A few seconds later, the beast quieted and Keith was able to breath. He closed his eyes and let out a big puff of air.

Keith felt the man's eyes on him as he walked to the other side of the room to grab for one of the many rolled bandages he kept on the desk. Quickly wrapping the wound and using his teeth to tie it off, Keith turned back to the Nightwalker. When he raised his eyes, they had gone back to normal. He could feel the beast still circling inside of him, lying in wait, but it didn’t pounce, and he ignored it.

Crossing his arms, Keith pulled a face and muttered, "Okay, what did you want to say?"

Opening his mouth, the vampire spent several seconds trying to speak, only for a croaking sound to come out of his throat. As Keith watched, the man’s nostrils flared, like he was trying to draw in every bit of that scent of copper that had filled the room. You could just tell from his face that his mind was crumbling apart under the strain. Part of Keith felt a sort of sick satisfaction at the sight, but the rest of him cursed because this had been exactly what he’d worried about.

As his face turned red and his eyes unfocused than refocused, the vampire shuddered visibly before covering his mouth with a hand, as though contemplating biting it. This wasn’t a good idea, why did I do that? Because there had been no other way to control the beast, but now, Keith was wondering if he was just facing another.

Except this beast was acting pathetic, helpless. "I- Um..." the Nightwalker muttered weakly. Gaze fixing on the bandaged hand, the man held his breath but still whimpered pathetically as Keith’s wound continued to bleed, the blood staining the linen. One of his hands shook visibly. "I just wanted to- erm... I wanted to..." Swallowing heavily, the vampire tried to draw his eyes back to Keith’s face and failed miserably.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he was desperate. The worst part was, perhaps, that Keith knew what it was like to be in that situation, and he hated being forced to see those emotions coming from someone he so despised..

Clenching his jaw together and turning his eyes towards Keith, the vampire whined, “Why did you have to do that? I haven't eaten in ages, and you smell like fricken' heaven, that's just not fair."

"Do you want to die tonight?" the noirette asked. When the vampire's brows drew together, Keith rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing no. If I hadn't done this ," he waved his hand around, which was ultimately kind of mean since it wafted the smell closer to the brunet, who whined once more. "-Romelle would have been cleaning up bits and pieces of you for a week."

The vampire gave him a muddled look of confusion at that, and Keith sighed in response. He shouldn't have said that. No one was supposed to know about his...problem. About the beast. Why was he telling this vampire anything ? Keith didn't inherently have a death wish, but sometimes it sure felt like it. He really needed to get a better grip on his temper.

But as he looked at the Nightwalker before him, his eyes narrowed in hunger and misery, Keith felt a weird pang of guilt in his chest. It wasn't like he had done it to intentionally upset the other man. It had just been the only way he could have calmed down. The noirette made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, conflicted. His rational brain and irrational brain were fighting each other. And then the beast came into the mix, howling at him to be set free.

Oh, I'm gonna regret this…

Quickly stepping forward, ripping the bandage off with his teeth and letting it slide from his hand to land on the floor at his feet, Keith took a breath. Instead of thinking through what he was about to do, he simply faced his palm upward and held his hand out towards the vampire. "Here. Take it. Before it heals."

The vampires emotions were so clear, it was almost embarrassing. His knees went watery almost at once. Vision narrowing on just that spot on Keith’s palm, that two inch gash, the vampire watched as the blood collected there almost instantly, before sliding down to pool in his palm. Just as Keith had known he would the vampire reached forward slowly, as though he’d been caught in a trance. Clenching his teeth, tensing up his body as though that would help him fight instincts, the brunet tried not to visibly fall apart in front of Keith, and failed miserably.

“Just do it,” Keith muttered, his eyes narrowing. “Come on, stop pretending like you’re not a vampire.”

Unexpectedly, however, the Nightwalker jerked backwards, guilt filling his eyes. Before Keith could snap at him, the man bowed his head and shoved a bouquet of red roses and lavender carnations in the noirette's face. "I'm the one who broke into your house, don't reward me for it!" he insisted, even though it looked like it took every bit of his self control not to break down and drink what was being offered to him.

Surprised, Keith took a step back, spilling a couple drops of his own blood in the process. Wait, what?

Continuing to talk, his words coming fast, the vampire babbled, "I've never liked this whole breaking and entering thing anyway, but I definitely didn't mean to make you so upset, and you didn't deserve that, and I'm really sorry about hearing what happened to your mom, ‘cause you didn't deserve that either, and I know that Vampires are pieces of shit, and I won't even pretend that I'm not as well, but I still wanted to say sorry for being such a pig so-" He heaved in several deep breaths before saying, in a weak voice, "I got you flowers?"

The moment of silence was deafening

Either he's an idiot, or there is seriously something wrong with him.

The thought penetrated Keith's mind so quick that he was a little surprised at himself. The flowers were right in his face and despite how pretty they were, his senses were still too heightened and the smell of the flowers were just too strong and he felt like he was going to sneeze. Wiggling his nose to try and get rid of the sensation, Keith kept his injured hand cupped, just to make sure he didn't dirty the floor any further. Then, he grabbed the bouquet and swiftly turned to plop them into the basic of water that sat on the table next to his bed. He'd deal with them later.

More importantly though, he realized what those flowers meant. He’s actually sorry, isn’t he?

"Thank you… For the flowers. And for apologizing ," Keith muttered, determination sinking into his bones that much further. He was not going to let this effort go to waste. Keith would never have willingly offered his blood to a Nightwalker, at least not before tonight. However, he had already resigned himself to this, and he'd be damned if the vampire didn't take his offer. "But if you're as hungry as you say you are, if you don't get something that isn't Synthetic, you're going to die . And this doesn’t mean I don’t hate your kind, mind you, I just don't want the guilt of your death on my conscience."

So Keith stepped forward again, getting right into the brunet's personal space.

"If you don't take it," Keith growled, and the beast howled inside of him, "I'll kill you myself so I don't have to worry about whether you've keeled over and died in the street or not."

He was growing angry again, mostly just because he was tired of nobody ever taking him seriously. Not Romelle, not his boss, not the people milling in the streets that crossed to the other side to avoid him. No one did. And he was tired of it. So he was going to force this Nightwalker to treat him equally, even if it meant giving up his pride.

The vampire swallowed hard. Staring into Keith’s eyes, he struggled to ask in a steady voice, "You're not doing th-this-" It looked like he was having trouble even forming the words, the hunger inside him no doubt overtaking him. Drawing in a deep breath, the brunet pushed out, "You're not doing this because you feel pressured to, right? I don't want to- hell - I don't want to force you into d-doing something..."

Fucking hell- With a growl, Keith shoved his palm into the man’s face, right up under his nose. Without any way to get away from it, the vampire finally inhaled and shuddered. As his mouth opened slightly, his breath coming in soft little gasps, the brunet swayed slightly on his feet and inhaled again, like he couldn’t get enough. Keith just continued glaring at him, wondering if this was somehow some sort of way to postpone the inevitable.

Shivering again, his form wracked with powerful tremors Keith could feel in the air between them, the vampire finally leaned forward, his eyes going half-lidded. Trying to focus on the man before him, Keith caught the vampire’s penetrating gaze that was being leveled at him and let out a soft breath of his own. What have I gotten myself into?

Gently, ever so tenderly, the vampire’s delicate hands lifted and they cupped Keith’s palm as he leaned closer. Dragging in one last breath, the Nightwalker delicately flicked a tongue over one of the splattered spots on the man's finger. Instantly, the vampire was lost.

~o~

Oh- Oh god- As the cravings he'd been suppressing for months now hit him with the force of a hurricane, Lance lurched forward, sucking up the blood that had pooled in the man's hand before catching his teeth in the gash across the noirette's palm and drinking in, letting the frustratingly slow trickle of blood slide down his parched throat. While the body he'd neglected for too long cried out in thanks for him finally feeding it, Lance found himself staring into those eyes once more.

They were full of conflicting emotions, disgust, and sympathy. Confusion, and acceptance. His brain was still too muddled to understand. Whatever it was, Lance couldn't look away, those cesious eyes had him locked in place. Trapped. To be honest though, he didn't want to move.

The man sucked in a breath, like there was pain, but a moment later, the noirette was already letting out a groan of contentment. Wrapping an arm around the man’s waist to keep him upright when he started to collapse, Lance felt the way the man’s pale body trembled and it made his own spine tingle. Pulling him closer, Lance pressed the man flush against him and kept drinking, needing more, taking as much as he could get here, from someone who had offered.

As Lance made a low sound in the back of his throat, a sound that was quite similar to the one the noirette had released only moments before, his vision suddenly started to go. But he wasn’t blacking out; instead, he was running free through thick forests, his heightened senses taking in the sounds and the smells. He was only a child, but he felt like he was completely free.

A second later, the scene faded and Lance was surrounded by warm bodies, protective growls and glowing eyes. Huge, silky wolves all huddled together around him. A moment later he realized that he too was a wolf, and just as quickly, the wolf closest to him spoke, even though he shouldn't have been able to understand her.

"Keith, you're fine, we're leaving this village."

Keith.

Then, just as soon as he'd realized it was a memory, it was gone, and Lance was seeing a woman with warm eyes and a soft smile above him, or rather, Keith , the man he was currently feeding on. Wait, how am I seeing this? What's going on? Reaching out blindly, physically rather than in the memory, Lance realized that he was already clutching onto the noirette, clinging to his waist like he was afraid one of them was going to fall. As the woman in the memory reached down and picked him up, Lance felt a wave of what must have been Keith's own feelings of love and trust run through him, and it left him gasping.

Scrambling desperately to retreat to his own mind, Lance's eyes flew open and he found Keith pressed against him, his mouth open in a silent O and his body shivering as the vampire fed. As the haze of hunger started to fade, Lance started to pull himself together, removing his teeth from the man's skin and rubbing calming circles in his back in an attempt to soothe whatever he'd just managed to do to him.

What the hell was that? What the hell-

Keith stumbled out of Lance’s hold and his feet caught on one another, sending him tumbling to the ground. A sob ripped from the man’s throat throat as he huddled into a ball, hardly seeming to care that Lance was still there in front of him. "M-mother..." he cried, cradling his hand against his chest. “Mother, I’m sorry.”

As he looked up through tear soaked eyes, Keith blinked. Lance could only stare at him in shock as he tried to work through what he’d just seen. "I-I'm s-sorry," the man, Keith stuttered out. As if trying to calm the heavy, shuddering breaths that he kept dragging in, the kept running his thumb over the scar obsessively. It hurt, and Lance couldn’t even articulate why.

Reaching forward, feeling stupidly unable to help or do anything, Lance pulled back his fingers and just stared at the man. His first thought was that was your mother, wasn't it? Then, in the midst of chiding himself for how stupid that would be, the rest of what he'd seen clicked into place, and Lance's eyes widened.

As if he could read what Lance was thinking, the shaking noirette stared at him and suddenly tried to scramble backwards, tripping over himself once more in the process. Lurching for him, Lance quickly said, "No- Wait!" But the man was shaking his head, his hair sticking to his cheeks as his tears continued to fall. Falling to his knees as well, almost ending up with a face full of floor as his cape got stuck under him, Lance crawled forward insistently and called, "Keith, please-"

Keith froze, his body pressed to the door and his eyes full of the tears. Halting as well, though not until he was close enough to the noirette that he could reach out and touch, Lance repeated, in a softer voice, "Keith..." as though the name alone could calm him down. Remembering the feeling of being a wolf, one that he'd gotten from this man's memories, Lance opened his mouth and finally asked, "What- What are you?"

But the noirette just mutely shook his head, his eyes wide and panicked like he was trying and failing to find a way out.

Lance was about to try and convince him that it was alright, when there was a sound behind Keith, from outside the door. The noirette yelped, and as he did so, Lance watched in shock as furry ears formed from out of Keith’s hair. Softly mumbling, "Oh, shit…” the man looked down as a tail uncurled from behind him. Glancing up at Lance, Keith swallowed heavily.

There was a voice from outside the door. "Keith? Everything okay in there? I thought I heard yelling." It was light and feminine, but Lance couldn’t really pay attention to it.

"Yeah, I'm, I'm okay! I fell and I was yelling at what I tripped over,” Keith lied, his voice strained, stuck in his throat as tears continued to drip down his face.

"Oh-kay, see you tomorrow then, I'm heading out."

"Goodnight.”

There was silence, except for the noirette’s beating heart and Lance’s soft breaths. Once the door shut somewhere down below, the man let out a breath and turned his eyes back to Lance. Ears twitching, tail thumping behind him against the door, Keith took a breath.

"I...I'm not..." He stumbled over the words.  "Not human."

There was only one thing to say to that.

"Well, no shit."

Blinking, Lance stared at him, trying desperately to figure out what was going on. Because okay, what were you supposed to say when the guy you just fed off of not only shared his memories with you but then also broke down, cried, and then grew ears and a tail. He probably should have asked someone that before now. As it was, he could only stare at Keith, his brain sputtering and spinning its wheels uselessly.

"I mean," he continued, his mind still scrambling to find a decent response. "The ears were a clue, but the tail kind of gave it away."

Massaging his forehead abruptly, groaning under his breath, Lance muttered, "Yeah, okay, ears and a tail. Yup, totally normal. Mhm, this is just-" Looking up at the man, who was staring at him as though expecting something terrible to happen to him, Lance ran a hand through his hair and said, "I- um... Okay, you're not human. That's alright, neither am I." With nothing better to do, Lance stuck out a hand resolutely and said, "What the hell, my name's Lance. Hi."

Unexpectedly, the man let out a choked noise. Shit- "No, I- Hell, I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what your worried about, okay?" Reaching across the distance between them, Lance carefully wiped away the tears dribbling from Keith's eyes and insisted, gently, "I'm sorry I'm stressing you out, you don't have to tell me anything, I shouldn't have asked, it's none of my business."

"Of course, I'm worried about it!" Keith blurted, even though Lance didn’t feel him recoil from his touch. Somehow, the brunet was glad, because despite how stupid it sounded, there was something there now. "Your kind... annihilated my kind...there are only a few of us left." He drew in a shuddering breath before leaning into the hand Lance held to his cheek. "Of course I'm scared."

Uncurling himself, the noirette’s ears flattened against his head as he looked off to the side. "I'm...one of the few remaining Wolven after...after the mass genocide of my kind fifteen years ago. Night--er, Vampires, ordered it and only a few of us escaped. To this city."

Wolven. Werewolves. Vvarg. Lance struggled to take the information into stride. He supposed that he should have guessed that with the whole tail and stuff, but somehow it hadn't quite sunk in. He didn't know much about a mass genocide, but he did know other things. Werewolves were uncouth, dangerous, feral. Generally the general population was terrified of them, and if the elders were to be believed, then with good reason.

Yet here was a self proclaimed werewolf, and he... Well, he didn’t appear to be any of those things.

"So?" he asked, his voice coming out strange to his own ears. "So my kind can be evil, I'm not going to tell them where you are. I'm not going to tell them about you. " Rubbing his fingers over Keith's cheek, bringing his other hand up to brush hair from his face, Lance stubbornly insisted, "You didn't throw me out, or- or let your Vampire friend tear me apart. We just- I just-" Gesturing helplessly at Keith's hand, Lance softly said, "You helped me, I don't want to see you hurt."

Keith sighed into the touch, his tail swishing next to him as Lance dragged his fingers over the man’s cheeks. His ears twitched and his eyes slid closed as he softly murmured,"How...how was I supposed to be sure...? Even Romelle had tried to kill me when she first found out." Violent tinged eyes opening, Keith looked into Lance’s own blue ones. There was a strange kind of vulnerability there that he hadn’t expected. "I didn't mean for you to learn about this."

"Well," Lance said, struggling to find some sort of familiar footing when everything had been turned on its head. "I found out. And I don't hate you." Letting go of Keith's face so he could sit down beside the man, the brunet fit himself snugly against the door and the noirette before saying, "To be honest, I'm a pretty bad vampire, so you’re never gonna have to worry about me." Folding his hands around his knees, Lance glanced up at the ceiling and hummed, "I really am sorry I broke into your house the other night and started this, but... I'm not sorry I've met you. You seem pretty alright, Keith. Werewolf or vampire be damned."

And when Keith's head plopped onto his shoulder, his ears twitching and tickling the side of Lance's face, the brunet didn't stop him. He didn’t know why Keith was willing to act comfortable around him, even after what had happened. It was quite strange but to be honest, he didn't mind.

Turning his eyes towards the window, Keith groaned softly. "You say that, but it’s not that easy. Full moon starts tomorrow night," he muttered, turning his head so his forehead was shoved into the brunet's shoulder. "I don't want to have to head out of town."

"Then don't."

Keith looked at him like he'd lost his mind but Lance just stared at the wall, his expression matter o'fact. "If you don't want to leave town then don't. "

"It's not that easy-"

"Yeah it is," Lance argued, unsure why he suddenly cared so much.

Keith puffed out his cheeks. "If I stay here, then anyone who walks by will see... Me ."

"Okay, but what if you were somewhere they didn't walk by," Lance said, the idea forming in his brain faster than he would have thought possible. "Somewhere where there's no one else around. What then? Would you have to leave then?"

Keith's brows furrowed and one ear pricked up, a sure sign that he was confused. "I mean...no I wouldn't have to leave but like, you don't understand . The whole...Turning process is violent and can be painful for me and I can’t always distinguish friend from enemy and I don't want to hurt anyone. Not again." He whined lightly and shook his head. "It takes a while to calm down from the adrenaline and I always get this unbelievable urge to run . It's...better If I'm in the forest."

"Okay okay," Lance said, waving his hand. "But let's say you had an empty place, with lots of room to run, and no one would find you, what about then?" Though it might've been a long shot, Lance knew he could manage it. It's not like anyone uses our second factory, we just keep it empty in case we end up needing it. Taking a deep breath, the vampire gave Keith a serious look and said, "You saved my skin today. Maybe I wouldn't have died, but I would have probably ended up getting seriously ill in the next few days, and I might have just keeled over. So at least let me return the favor."

Keith's face screwed up into an odd expression, like he wanted to take Lance’s offer. Swishing his tail in thought, the man was silent as he no doubt weighed the pros and cons of the idea. "If..." he started and then paused, grabbing Lance's sleeve and holding it tightly. "Promise me...that If it looks like I'm about to break out or hurt someone, that you'll take my knife and you'll stop me. Please. Promise me. "

Shaken slightly by the words, suddenly realizing why Keith had been carrying that silver knife in the first place, Lance haltingly said, "Y-yeah, I'll stop you. But I won't have to, because you won't be able to get out on accident." When Keith just kept staring at him, his eyes intense and worried, Lance freed his sleeve and caught the back of the man's head, As he pressed it to his collar, preventing Keith from darting, the brunet softly told the man, "I won't let you hurt anyone."

After a moment of silence, Lance added, "And besides, you can't hurt me, so it'll be alright." Realizing how that sounded, he quickly amended, "Y'know, if you're willing to let me be there."

Breathing in deeply, Keith’s body seemed to relax slightly. "I don't want you to be there because it'll be dangerous but...I suppose I can't stop you if you decide to stay." Keith tail swished once more and then even as Lance watched, it faded to nothingness, his ears shrinking until they were normal again.

Then Keith let out a giant yawn, his eyes squinting as hand coming up to cover his mouth, and Lance’s insides did something weird.

Feeling a strange knot of contentment form in his stomach, Lance got to his feet and helped Keith up too. "I should probably get going," he said, though he sounded reluctant even to his own ears. Glancing over at the flowers that were still sitting in the water glass beside the bed, the vampire quickly added, "But I'll be here tomorrow pretty early to come and get you." Staring down at Keith's pale hands, Lance continued, "It's an old Synth factory that we- My family owns. No one can get in, the locks are vampire proof, and since we cleaned the equipment out there's lots of room."

Noticing that he was still holding the man's hands, Lance quickly dropped them and said in a careful tone, "I just wanted to say, thanks. Again. I've never not felt like a monster after feeding." Until now.

Keith nodded slightly, staring down at his hands, at the scars that Lance was only now noticing were there. "I uh. I'm sorry. For how I treated you yesterday and today," he mumbled, hiding his scarred hands behind his back and looking off to the side. "I'm fairly prejudiced and I know I shouldn't be. And. My temper is hard to control the closer to the full moon it is. And I guess I'm glad that I could help." Bringing a hand up to push some of his hair behind his now human ear, Keith smirked lightly and said, "Thank you. For not killing me. Appreciate it."

"Hey, it's the least I can do." Standing there awkwardly for a moment, Lance finally moved. Catching Keith around the shoulders, Lance gave the man a slightly awkward embrace that the noirette didn't pull away from. "Trust me, not all vampires are bad," he said softly. Then he released the man and took a couple steps back towards the terrace. "Catch you later, Keith.  on't work too hard."

Then he slipped out the door, blended with the night, and was gone.

Chapter Text

Lance had never liked his family.

Call it teenage angst if you want -even though he was old enough to be beyond that- but the fact remained that Lance didn't feel comfortable there. Sitting as he was now, surrounded by the Lords and Ladies of the Noble houses, the brunet felt out of place.

It wasn't necessarily his parents; no, they were pretty alright. His brothers and sister were too sweet for Lance to hold any sort of ill will towards them. Hell, even the members of staff were wonderful people. But when you got down to it, they were still vampires, successful ones who acted respectably and encouraged him to do the same.

Unfortunately perhaps, he wasn't like them; he was different.

As he scanned the faces of the softly conversing vampires around him, Lance felt a twinge of regret. You weren’t supposed to feel repulsed by your own family; you weren’t supposed to wish you could simply exist anywhere but there, but he did. Turning his head a bit further, Lance caught sight of a white-haired girl and took a mental step back.

His cousin, Allura, was another one of those alright vampires. She made a genuine attempt to be kind to him and listen if he needed to rant, but still, Lance thought resolutely. A few good people don’t make up for the rest of it.

Because the rest of them definitely were horrible. From his Aunts to his Uncles to his Grandparents and Great Grandparents and Great Great Grandparents and Great Great Grandparents twice removed, all of them saw him as a failure of a vampire. No matter what he did or how he acted, they found it lacking. Though he knew it was because he'd fallen out of the accepted social norms, it still sort of hurt. These were supposed to be people he looked up to, but it was hard when every look, every word they spoke was hostile.

Staring at his plate, Lance pushed a piece of grizzle from the steak around the rim of the gold leaf china.

The voice of Allura cut through his internal stagnation. “Did your day go alright, Lance?” she asked, the question rote, but well meaning.

“I suppose,” Lance commented, pushing thoughts of Keith from his head. “Matt thinks he’s close to making a breakthrough on this latest batch of Synth.”

"I don't approve of you hanging around those laboratories all the time, Lance.  It is not a location befitting of your status."  The terse, rumbling voice of his Grandfather drew Lance's attention.  Seated at the head of the table, glass filled with fresh blood, as was customary of family dining, the vampire was glaring at the brunet with cold, calculating eyes.

From beside the man, Lance's Aunt looked up and arched an eyebrow, tapping the rim of her plate with a long, pointed nail. "Look at him, talking about Synth like a Abstainer. Did you know the peasantry are still trying to push that Reformers nonsense? As if we can survive like that. And then the Abstainers go and agree with them, the nerve of the younger generation."

"Well," Lance started, in a derisive yet soft voice. "Maybe if you actually supported the research they're doing and stopped trying to get the factories closed, then maybe we could choose to abstain, and the people you don’t like would stop bothering you." The words came out bitter. Well fine, Lance thought, his lips pursed together tightly. They are bitter.

From beside him, Allura elbowed him sharply.

"Those Abstainers are traitors to their kind," Lance's Great-Uncle spat, knocking back half a glass of viscous, crimson liquid before snapping it back down to the table in disgust, sloshing the remaining blood onto the dishes, which rattled with the impact. "And the Reformers, all they do is try to turn our kind into tamed beasts. The humans don't need to have anything else under their thumbs, this is just one step too far."

"Like they could ever tame us!" Lance's Great-Grandmother twice removed cawed. "They're nothing but hairless monkeys, no class whatsoever." Clenching his fists, Lance stared down at his steak and gritted his teeth together. Now that he'd fed, he wasn't quite the emotional mess he'd been before; he could see that what they were saying wasn’t worth arguing over, but their words still left a horrible taste in his mouth.

From beside Allura, Lotor looked up and said, "They think they'll turn us into pets, like the Vvarg, but they'll remember their place, eventually."

That brought Lance's head up.

“They didn’t keep them as pets,” someone further down the table called, “It didn’t take them long to just wipe them out entirely, did it?”

"Those dirty animals deserved what they got," another Matriarch barked, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm glad they finally died out. They were a pest. We, at least, improve every society we touch." Remembering Keith's brittle sobs, Lance felt his stomach revolt. No, we destroy them.

Smugly, Lance's Grandmother said, "I remember when the humans finally pushed them out of the surrounding towns." Lance remembered it too, could see the burning village through the eyes of a terrified child that didn't know what he was watching, and it sickened him. "I watched an entire herd of them burn in my front lawn. It was uniquely satisfying."

There were a chorus of agreements, and several barbed comments directed at the Werewolves, but Lance didn’t join in. How could he?

"Of course, we had no hand in it," Lance's other Uncle commented, still eating calmly as if they were talking about the weather. "We simply watched." There was a murmur of agreement from around the table. About how they hated the Vvarg, but would never deign to kill one themselves. Except, as Lance now knew, that was a complete lie. I'm sitting at a table of murderers, he thought, wishing he could run, but not having anywhere to run to. I'm surrounded by killers.

He'd always known it to be true; they were vampires, Nightwalkers as their detractors called them when they weren't around. Blood-sucking monsters. And to be fair, were they wrong? Lance felt like a monster. When he thought of Keith fearfully talking about not having anywhere to go because he was scared of being found out, something clenched in him and didn't let him go.

Lance had never been hunted. His life had been one of privilege, of silver spoons and a servant on hand at all times. There had been no going hungry, no running from danger, no wondering whether he could be himself without being hurt for it; there had only ever been peace and ease. When he looked at Keith’s life by contrast, he shuddered. The brunet couldn't imagine being scared for his life like that, couldn't and didn't want to.

“Come now, would we have really dirtied our hands like that?” Lance’s youngest Aunt on his father’s side queried rhetorically, laughing musically at the very notion. “Total annihilation is just so much work.” Yet even as she said it, there was a gleam of malice in her eyes.

"There's no need to help exterminate a species that wants to die," Lotor pointed out silkily, his words drawing murmurs of conciliated agreement from the rest of the family. "They were suicidal beasts; it would have been difficult to keep them alive."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure we killed them."

Lance wasn't sure when he'd opened his mouth, but the moment the rest of the family turned their heads and stared at him, he knew it was too late to back down. Not that he particularly wanted to. Anger was coursing through him, turning his nerves to ice. All the brunet could see was Keith's face, streaked with tears, and feel the way he'd trembled under his fingers. That wasn't someone who wanted to die; that was someone who did everything in his power to stay alive. And it burned to listen to his family claim otherwise.

His mother was staring at him, her mouth half-way open. Lance's three siblings had their eyes trained on their brother, like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. His father wouldn’t even meet his eyes. Yet the young vampire didn't back down. He'd always disagreed with them privately, but this was something he wasn't going to just sit by and listen to. This was personal.

After a moment of silence, his Grandfather demanded, "What makes you even suggest such a vile thing? Who put ideas like that into your head?"

Lance managed a smile. "Funny you should ask that, I'm pretty sure it was all of you." Glaring down the table at Lotor, Lance continued, "They weren't pests; the Werewolves were like us, just trying to make it in this world. It's thanks to us that they're dead."

Smiling malevolently at Lance, Lotor softly said, "You know, Lance, dearest little cousin, you might want to watch your tongue." Waving his fork in the man's general direction, the ashen-haired vampire crooned, "Otherwise, we might think you've been talking to one of those beasts. And you know what happens to people who consort with outcasts."

The words made Lance's head pound with anger. Opening his mouth to retort, the brunet suddenly bit his tongue to hold back a wince of pain as his other cousin dug her heel into his foot. “We don’t take kindly to people who deal with dirt like them, we know, you don’t have to threaten family.” From beside Lance, Allura continued, "Drop this nonsense, Lotor. I know you dislike them, but this is a tad unnecessary." Her support was welcome, but it wasn't nearly enough, and Lotor was still watching Lance, his smirk widening with every moment.

“Be nice to Lancey,” the brunet’s little sister piped up, her bright eyes worriedly flicking between the three of them. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

"Oh, on the contrary, I think it's perfectly necessary," Lotor disagreed, entirely ignoring Lance’s sister, his eyes widening ever so slightly as they lit up with malignant fire. "After all, we wouldn't want any monsters whispering things in our small cousin's tender ears. You know the sort he hangs out with; you know their ilk. Someone should remind him of his place in the world." The man folded his hands before him before all but grinning. "And then he should be reminded that the Vvarg are better off dead. "

Lance shot to his feet.

Shoving his chair out, not caring when it screeched across the polished floor, the brunet coldly announced, "Maybe, I just would prefer to make decisions on my own, cousin ." He injected as much hatred into the word as he could, but somehow, it couldn't even begin to convey the holy rage he felt. "Worthlessness is measured by what kind of person you are, and I think that wishing for the death of an entire species puts you pretty low on that scale."

Lotor stared at him, but didn’t respond.

Noticing the looks of horror surrounding him, Lance reeled back like he’d been slapped. Biting his tongue, he cleared his throat and straightened his cape with a couple tugs. "I'm going out," he said shortly, before walking from the room, his footsteps echoing neatly behind him. The moment he'd turned a corner, Lance's pace sped up as he headed for the stairs down to the kitchens, his mind racing with anger.

How dare they. How dare they look at each other and nod their heads and act like they weren't the reason that hundreds of Wolven were dead. Lance knew that he was being recklessly irrational, but he'd only had to meet Keith once to know they were wrong. Werewolves weren't monstrous beings; they were intelligent creatures. They had feelings, emotions, lives. Hell, they had more of those things than Vampires, who simply sat around day in and day out with their noses in the air, expecting the rest of the population to bow to them. It was so disgusting to listen to, and yet he knew he couldn't do anything about it.

All he’d done was put himself in danger. If he didn’t face repercussions for this, he’d be surprised. No one spoke out like that and got away with it, especially not someone as young as him. And you can be sure that Lotor is going to want revenge for that little slight. It turned his stomach, because he knew his cousin would get away with it.

Remembering his promise to Keith the day before, about coming and taking him to the empty factory so he'd have somewhere safe during the coming moon, Lance forced himself to slow down and let out a breath. There was a reason he was so tense, and it was because he was worried. Scared that his family would see his traitorous actions in his eyes and find Keith. It was stupid; hell, it wasn't a bad thing to be doing. Keith wasn't some sort of monster, and Lance wasn't a criminal for helping him, but his family would say otherwise, and he hated that.

Forget them; it’s not like you’ll change their minds.

Composing himself, Lance continued down towards the kitchens, his steps more even than before. It was going to be fine, he knew it would be fine. He'd already set the place up, unable to sleep yesterday. His restless tossing and turning had kept him awake, thoughts of Keith and Wolven twisting in his head. All he had left to do was grab something for at least the noirette to eat, and then he'd be good. And seeing as his family was classically extravagant and as wasteful as all vampires tended to be, there would be plenty for him to snag.

As he strode into the predictably bustling kitchen, Lance quickly latched himself onto one of the servant girls down there and, after she'd gotten over the curtsying and titles, asked, "So, is there any way I can get some of the steak we had tonight? Maybe like… Most of it?" He looked around the room before adding, "And maybe some of the rolls. Y'know, just some food?"

Bobbing her head instantly, the girl called over one of her fellow servers. "Can you get Master Lance some of the steak?" As the other woman nodded, the first one quickly said, "I'll get you the other items you asked for." Watching them both hurry off, Lance looked around and his nose wrinkled at the sight of the blood-stained bags heaping out of a waste-bin. The results of the nights drinks, he knew.

It sickened him, mostly because he knew that most of that blood would go down the drain like it didn't matter. Like it costs them nothing. Well, it didn't, but it cost those who gave it quite a bit.

Twisting his eyes away from the depressing display, Lance caught sight of several servant girls packing the basket with food for him, and managed a smile. Well, at least they were being liberal. As he watched them fill the ice box with a great many thick cuts of meat, he felt a bit better. He wasn't completely sure what his new acquaintance ate, but if he... If he fully turned, then he'd no doubt be thankful for the meat. Though he didn't know much about Werewolves, he was determined to learn.

"How long will it keep?" he asked, wandering over and peering curiously into the basket. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be there with Keith, but he was determined to stick it out for as long as he needed to. If anyone asked, he'd tell them that he'd been feeding or something. No doubt, that would make his family happy, to know that their progeny was turning out to be just like them. In his mind, no one needed to know that in fact, Lance was about to do something that would be considered heresy to even the general human population.

Glancing up at him, one of the girls smiled uncertainly and said, "Erm, if you keep it in a cool place, it'll keep for two days, then it'll start to spoil. But the biscuits in there will last for five!" As her peers finished stuffing the ice chest and fitted the lid on, the servant girl dithered for a moment. Shuffling her feet, somewhat nervously, she quickly asked, in a soft voice, "If- If I can inquire, how long will Master Lance be gone."

Giving the girl a dazzling smile, Lance said, "Oh, you know, I'll be back~"

Snatching up the basket, which was a good bit heavier than he expected, Lance grunted and said, "Welp, I'm off! Thank you wonderful ladies for all your help." With a wave that was hampered somewhat by his load, Lance quickly left the kitchen and headed for the back door. Picking up the umbrella he'd left there, the brunet opened it before stepping outside and into the late afternoon sun.

It was amazing how quickly he'd memorized the path to Keith's building. Only three times there and already he knew it by heart. As he walked, watching as the people around him parted as usual, Lance found himself traveling back to those moments the night before. He really couldn't help himself; they'd been firmly cemented in his mind. Each memory stood out in clear and perfect detail, just as if they were his own. Running through the woods, the burning village, Keith's mother; they all held such vividity and emotion that it was hard to believe he hadn't experienced them himself.

Maybe that's why when his family had gone off about Werewolves, he'd taken it so personally. Usually, he just kept his head down and ignored them, but this had hit him hard, and hit him badly. Those people were responsible for that memory of fire and fear; they were responsible for Keith's pain. He wished he could say that detaching himself from it all was easy, but that would have been a boldfaced lie.

Because it really wasn't possible to pretend he wasn’t affected. It was weird, how connected he already felt to Keith, but to be fair, they'd shared memories. He'd been able to see bits of what made Keith tick, and that meant something, right? Maybe it didn't mean as much to Keith; maybe Lance was the only one who was completely confused, but... Well, he was taking the man to the factory today, and later tonight, when the moon actually came out, he'd stick around. If the memories didn't mean as much as he'd thought they had, then maybe this outstretched hand would.

Shaking the thoughts away, Lance shifted his shoulders in an attempt to turn up his collar against the harsh glare of the sun before hurrying onward.

As he got closer to Keith's building, Lance found that scent wafting through the air once more, enticing him and drawing him forward. Despite logically being able to say that he'd already fed, that smell Keith exuded was a good one, and it left him feeling slightly light headed. But, he reflected as a lurid picture of the noreitte's face, lips parted, body weak against his own, and tremors shaking him, flashed through his mind, Lance supposed he had good reason for that particular reaction. The feeling was powerful, and it picked his pace up for him.

Finally reaching the house he was looking for, Lance nervously knocked on the front door, worried about what, or who, he might find. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't Keith who opened the door, but a pretty vampire girl whose turquoise eyes widened then narrowed upon seeing him.

"Who are you?" she asked sharply, crossing her arms and staring up at him defiantly, as if daring him to disrespect her in some way.

"Erm... a friend of Keith's?" he guessed, furrowing his brows and attempting for a smile, which to be honest came out more like a confused grimace.

Instantly, her face shifted to a glower and her lips peeled back into a snarl that showed off her fangs. "Liar," she spat, then she closed the door in his face sharply.

You know, I think she doesn't like me...

Humming under his breath, Lance stared in confuddlement at the door for a moment before raising his hand and knocking once again. There was no response. Huffing, Lance called, "C'mon, don't do this to me! I'm being serious, I'm his friend." I think, he elected not to add.

"Horseshit!" the female vampire called back through the door, sounding entirely frustrated with his continued existence. "Keith doesn't make friends with vampires."

Lance opened his mouth to call, well he made friends with you, when there was the sound of a second pair of footsteps, this one heavier. A moment later, a faint but distinctly familiar voice called, "Romelle!  Enough! I told you someone was stopping by."

That primly irritable voice, which belonged to Romelle apparently, quickly snapped back, "You never told me he was one of my kind, Keith."

Lance rolled his eyes. Oh boy, this is gonna be fun. Not entirely convinced that Keith would win this argument, the brunet lifted his hand to knock once more and was abruptly met with not wood but a face. Said face went cross-eyed and let out a soft, "Christ,” before taking a quick step back.

Blinking at that head of raven hair, Lance quickly pulled back his hand and appraised Keith’s appearance. He looked like he'd been brooding all day, with his hair everywhere, his clothes rumpled and his brows furrowed. Without really thinking about it, Lance reached up with his free hand and poked Keith between the eyebrows. When the man let out a snort and took another step back, the brunet chuckled and said, "That’s a very beautiful friend you've got there, Keith. I thought she was going to rip my head off." As he spoke, he shot Romelle a playful wink, to which she responded with a grunt of exasperation and a roll of her eyes.

Running a hand through his hair, mussing it further, Keith sighed. "She's not...all that bad."  When Romelle turned her nose in the air and huffed, the noirette’s expression softened into a smile. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close, using his other hand to ruffle her hair playfully.  "She's just protective."

"And for good reason," Romelle grumbled as she batted Keith's hands away.  "You can't just trust anyone, Keith!  You should know that by now!"

The Wolvin let her go and sighed. "Yes, mother," he mumbled as she spun on a heel and stomped away.  Looking back at Lance, as if only just remembering he was there, Keith’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Shifting awkwardly, all ease gone with Romelle’s disappearance, the man asked, "Uhm, wanna...come in for a minute?  The sun won't be done setting for another," the noirette paused, lifting his nose in the air and squinting at the sky. "Another hour or so I'd say."

Feeling something weird coil in his gut at the change between the easy way Keith acted around the woman and this stilted, uncomfortable effect he had now, despite not having any reason to feel anything at all, Lance cleared his throat and said, "Um... A-actually, I thought we could get headed out now!" Waving around the poofed out umbrella, the brunet brightly said, "I've got my sun protection, and you know, I thought it'd be fun to go sooner rather than later, just so you can see the place and stuff." Yeah, that sounded awkward, but considering the fact that he didn't know why he felt awkward, Lance decided to just run with it .

When Keith didn't answer right away, the vampire quickly added, "Come on, I even brought you dinner. You literally have no reason not to come with me." Pausing, he found a smirk creeping up over his face. "Unless of course..." He snickered. "You need to grab your nightdress."

Keith rolled his eyes so hard Lance was afraid they would get stuck.  "No, I don't need to grab that, but I have other things I need to grab.  Just...wait here, I'll be right back." Then he vanished into the house, leaving Lance to wait for him by the door.

As he waited, he became distinctly aware of the fact that Keith was talking to the vampire in hushed tones, just beyond his auditory range. What they were talking about, he couldn’t guess, but he still felt uncomfortable, knowing that Keith still couldn’t trust him with everything. Logically, that was kind of expected, but… But you’re being stupid.

Yeah, okay, he was just being stupid.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Keith emerged once more, carrying a knapsack over one shoulder and wearing a smile on his face. That grin turned into a smirk as he cocked his head up at Lance. Easily, the vampire returned the expression, his earlier discomfort sort of melting away.

Sweeping a hand out towards the street outside, Keith gave a little dip of his head and teasingly insisted, “Lead the way, Vampire.”

Smiling jauntily, Lance did just that.

---

As the door closed behind him, Romelle's warnings were still circling in Keith's mind.  She had been worried, which wasn't at all surprising. She had lectured him about trusting a vampire, about trusting too easily in general.  The blonde had even gone as far as to warn him about bonding with Lance, whatever that meant.  To be honest, Keith had never thought to learn the intricacies of vampire society.  

Sighing to himself, the Wolvin smirked up at the brunet and took a step forward with him.

Veering out into the bustling streets of the city, Lance proudly taking the lead. Keith found himself chuckling at the vampire, who was trying to face him while watching where he was going at the same time. He wasn’t particularly good at it, but that didn’t stop him.

"So we actually used to use this factory to make Synthetic, until we got it moved down to a bigger place. The families still keep it around for a rainy day, though, not that we'll ever use it." Laughing, the brunet shook his head, "I say all of that like I own anything. The business was started by a consort of a vampire. The vampire and his sibling both worked on it together. It's pretty much only used by the lower echelons of vampires, but you already knew that. The higher ups fund it because they like to keep it under their thumbs.”

Drawing up a little closer beside him to avoid a cart trundling down the road, Keith hummed in acknowledgement, which Lance seemed to take as the green light to keep babbling. "The big families, they think Synth is dirty, but I mean, I practically live off of the stuff so I don’t think that at all." Waving a hand expressively, almost smacking Keith in the face, Lance insisted, "It's really not all that bad! Some of the newer stuff that Hunk is helping with is pretty delicious."

As he said the words, Lance wrinkled his nose and absently amended, "Though, nothing close to you."

Keith felt himself turn red, but as Lance started going pink as well, he quickly schooled his expression. Quickly trying to fix his own blunder, Lance pushed out, "I- I mean, Um, that came out wrong. Sorry, I should have said that- You- um..." Trailing off, he hunched his shoulders slightly and glanced over at Keith nervously.

Smile already forming at his lips, Keith raised an eyebrow. How can this guy be such a dork?  "I'll take that as a compliment."

“I’m still sorry for saying it,” Lance rushed to say, nibbling on his bottom lip. The seriousness in his expression made Keith snort, then laugh openly, which earned him a nervous chuckle from Lance.

You were speaking your mind, there’s not much I can condem about that. “Relax,” he said, and almost instantly, Lance let out a breath, like he’d been holding it. Pinching his eyebrows together in a silent question, Keith shook his head and turned back to where they were going.  Shifting the bag on his shoulder, he swerved around two children playing with a ball, shifting his course so that he was pressed up against Lance's side. "Sorry," he muttered once the kids had passed and he was able to step away.  "How far is the lab?"

Lance didn't answer right away, and when Keith glanced over at him, he seemed confused, as if he was deep in thought.  "Ehm..." A panicked expression flashed over his eyes, and the brunet finally said, "I... don't...." However, he fell silent once again, and Keith watched as he chewed on his lip, as if he was nervous, distracted. "N-not too far. It's just by the waterfront.”
Keith watched as the vampire pursed his lips together, and Lance seemed to awkwardly add, "And It- It was a compliment,” despite the fact that they had moved on in topics. As cerulean eyes met grey, the brunet finished in a voice that was at least a few notes above his usual pitch. "If you want to take it that way."

Keith chuckled.  "Well, it's better than taking it as an insult.  And the waterfront, huh? I haven't been there in years.  Too close to the...well. You know. The mansions." He wasn't used to this.  The beast was quiet. It wasn't pacing inside as it usually did the day of the full moon.  Maybe it was the close proximity to Lance that the beast craved? Keith wasn't sure. In fact, he kind of liked the absence.

But that didn't last for long.

As they continued their walk, they passed by another vampire.  That wasn't odd per say, but they drew too close to Keith and the beast sprung to life, snapping its jaws and letting out a low growl that Keith had to swallow down to keep from repeating.  Keith stepped closer to Lance, one hand snaking out to fist in his cape. The beast was awake now, and it began its pacing. Hr could feel the barriers he kept up around it start to crumble.

Swallowing audibly, Keith pressed himself to Lance's side and muttered, "We need to hurry.  I-I need to get out of here...away f-from them..."

His entire body was beginning to shake and it took every ounce of willpower in him to keep his ears and tail away.  He didn't need to Turn halfway in the middle of the street.

“Shit, why are they doing here?” Lance muttered, and Keith only barely heard the words.  Catching the noirette’s hand in his own, Lance fervently agreed, "Yeah, we need to get of here." Keith felt the man look him over quickly, seemingly judging his state as best as he could, Lance asked, "You know these streets, right?"

Through the glazed look in Keith's eyes, the man swallowed hard and nodded once, firmly. That was all Lance needed, apparently. "Good, because we're about to do some running." Then, without another word, he took off, all but dragging Keith after him.

Lance growled, suddenly and quickly collapsed the umbrella, as if it had been in the way. Then the vampire pulled Keith down an alley. Thankfully, it seemed as if Lance knew exactly where he was going.  If it had been Keith leading them, they would have been lost already. Weaving in and out of various pathways and little gardens and other obstacles, Keith kept up easily, his feet almost perfectly in time with his the vampire’s, his hand still clenched tightly around the brunet's, despite the panic and strained nausea that swirled in his gut as the beast snapped its jaws.

Lance stayed a pace ahead as the ducked back through the alleyways, his eyes fixed straight ahead, intent on getting them to where they needed to go. Which was a good thing, because Keith was trying to keep the wolf down and didn’t really have the space of mind to worry about anything else.

As they swerved around a drunk lying in an alley and careened into another street, Keith suddenly found his momentum being brought to an abrupt halt as Lance’s arm went taught, yanking him back into the shade of the buildings. Confused as to what was going on, his senses still scrambled, Keith tried to see what was going on only for Lance to drag him further into the alley.

Then the smell of Vampire hit him, and Keith was glad that Lance was pushing him into a wall, because otherwise, he probably would have fallen over. Trying to speak, only for the brunet to hold a hand over his mouth, Keith stared up into Lance’s eyes, only to find a plea for him to remain silent.
Fearful, Keith let out a strangled whimper that was muffled by Lance's hand.  His own hands were fisted against Lance's chest, the other's body pressed firmly against his own, fitting against him like a puzzle piece.  Letting out several stuttered breaths through his nose, Keith squeezed his eyes shut, begging, pleading with the beast to calm itself, to stay quiet for a little while longer.

But the noirette should have known better than that.  The beast would never just listen to him.   Just...please...  Instead, it howled and slammed itself against another barrier, shattering it like so much glass.  Almost instantly, Keith's ears slid out and his tail uncurled and tucked between his legs. Mortified at his own lack of control, Keith silently begged, No, no, please, go back to sleep.

The beast let out a strangled howl and slammed against another barrier.  Thankfully, this one stayed up. Keith opened violet tinged eyes to stare helplessly into Lance's face.  There was too much fear in Keith's mind, too much adrenaline coursing through his veins for him to last much longer. Already he was struggling to stand. If it wasn’t for the arm Lance had wrapped around the noriette’s waist, he knew he would have collapsed.

Gazing down at the man, his eyes gravitating towards the obvious places, Lance mumbled something that sounded like a curse. As he turned and glanced over his shoulder at the mouth of the alley, Keith sagged against him, his body shivering as he fought the panic surging through him. No doubt sensing his emotional state, Lance pulled him deeper back into the alley.

From here however, Keith could see what Lance was trying to hide him from. He could see the coach at the mouth of the alley, pick up on the hushed voices, and make out the all too familiar emblem embossed on the side. Even once it had pulled away and Lance let him go so he could put down the ice-chest, Keith didn’t move. All he did was let out a shaking breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Almost instantly Lance’s hand landed in his hair and ruffled it a little. As the haze over his mind began to lift, Keith leaned into Lance’s hand slightly, his breathing finally evening out to something approaching normal. Before the inevitable question could be asked, Lance muttered, "Those are, uh, family. " Gnawing on his bottom lip lightly with his top fangs, the vampire added, "They... Don't trust me, apparently. But they won't do anything to me." The words, to you though, hung heavily in the air around them

Keith's ears twitched as he muttered, "Don't endanger yourself for me, Lance."  He was still shaking, even though he was no longer relying on the wall for support now that the initial stressor was out of sight.  Unfortunately, his ears and tail were there to stay. There was no getting rid of them now that the beast was awake.

As his tail untucked from between his legs, it made a light scratching sound against the wall that seemed to jar Lance’s attention. Glancing up at the sky, which was growing darker, the man made a sound low in his throat. "No, I'm going to be fine, we're going to be fine." Still rubbing his fingers over Keith's wolfish ears and combing through his raven hair, Lance continued, "Look, my family doesn't care about me enough to make a scene. If they can't find me soon, they'll give in. And once we get to the factory, they won't be able to get in unless they either have a key or I let them in."

Whining low in his throat, Keith stared at Lance, willing him to see that this really wasn’t enough. As the silence stretched, Keith's brushed his tail against Lance’s leg, moving past his cloak and grazing his thigh before thumping back against the brick. Staring at it for a moment, trailing his eyes up along it to where it sprouted from Keith's spine, Lance snapped his fingers sharply.

"I got it."

Yelping at the sound, at the way it cracked in his ears at such a close proximity, Keith flattened them against his head and squinted up at the Vampire.  "That was loud." Shaking his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears, his long hair falling in his face as he did so, Keith refocused on Lance, namely, the astounding amount of conviction that lit up his eyes. Slightly worried, Keith asked,  "What are you planning?" The beast was snarling inside him, and Keith was sure that it wouldn't be long before he turned, whether the moon was out or not.

Stepping a pace away from Keith, Lance unclasped his cape from around his shoulders, all the while talking. "We'll have to be quick, and we really have to be careful, but there's a chance that we can get away with this anyway." Pulling Keith away from the wall, his hands warm on the Wolven’s skin, Lance swiftly threw the black cloth over the man's shoulders. "Sorry about the smell of me on it, I know that can't be comfortable, but it'll hide the tail."

Pulling at the fabric, drawing his tail up so that it wouldn’t leave any obvious tents in the cloth, Keith glanced back at Lance, who was opening his umbrella before holding it over the both of them. "If we make tracks,” the brunet insisted, his mind clearly on the plan and not on much else. “-we can be there in minutes, and if you're wearing the cape and you keep your ears down, we should be able to pace just fine."

Picking up the ice box once more, Lance insisted, "Come on, if we're gonna do this we've got to hurry, otherwise you won't have time to eat or see the place before you turn."

Without putting too fine a point on it, Keith felt ridiculous.   But...if it helps get me there quicker...  

Sighing, the noirette let Lance lead them out of the alley.  As soon as they were near people again, the beast howled and snapped at every individual they passed by.  It was really not happy, and that was reflected in the tense way that Keith moved.  He had been given years of practice at keeping the beast at bay, but on days like this, when he would have no choice but to turn, it was almost as if it was all for naught.

Keeping his eyes down and his ears flattened against his head as well as he could manage, Keith's gaze kept going to the basket the vampire carried.  He had said something about eating, but to be honest, the noirette hadn't really been listening.  It took every bit of focus to not let the beast free.

Needing something to distract him from his thoughts, Keith shoved his nose against the fabric of the cape, inhaling the scent to see if it would keep the beast calm.  It seemed to work slightly. There was something about the way Lance smelled that always seemed to have a calming effect on the wolf inside him. Before Keith had let the vampire feed from him, the smell had repulsed the noirette, as did most vampires scents.  But now...something had fundamentally changed.

Eyes once again landing on that basket, Keith muttered, "I can't remember exactly what you had said, but you mentioned eating?  I...can't eat before I Turn. If I do, the wolf rejects it and I throw it up and, erm, it's not...a nice experience."

Almost instantly, Lance flushed a deep red and glanced down at the ice-box. "No, no, it's fine, I just thought I should bring something in case you needed to stay here longer or anything. I wasn't really sure what you ate though..." His words tapered off as his gaze returned to Keith. For a moment, he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in thought before he finally muttered, “Ah, but if you can eat it, I brought steak. It's meat... I'm not sure if that's acceptable, but I thought I'd try."

" After I Turn, I'll be hungry, so it's not like it'll go to waste."  Keith squeezed the cape and studied the flush in Lance's cheeks.  Feeling his own face grow warm at the sight, Keith swallowed and cleared his throat.  "I'll...tell you more about the whole...wolf thing once we get there, if...if you want me to, I mean.  I know it's bound to be confusing. Even I don't understand the full extent of it, and it's my own species." Frustrated with his own inability to articulate himself, Keith gave up and just shook his head before pressing himself against Lance's side again. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it, he was savoring the other’s presence.

Thankfully, Lance was already distracted, his eyes back to scanning the streets around him. "That's alright, I'm not going to be upset at you about what happens." Squaring his jaw, Lance turned to face Keith and firmly said, "I'm staying with you through this, okay? No matter what happens, I'm sticking with you until you're comfortable to go home."

Nudging up against Keith, Lance added, "And I'd love to hear more about this. Anything you're willing to tell me."

A small smiled graced Keith's features momentarily.  He wasn't sure why the thought of Lance being there soothed his mind so completely, but it did.  Keeping his eyes low, Keith answered, "Thank you. I'm still-” He huffed. “I’m still nervous about you getting hurt because of me, but it's nice to know that someone will be there if I can't take control again."

Lance let out a soft breath. "Of course I'll be there." And even though Keith had grown up to distrust Vampires, he knew that Lance meant every word when he added, "And it's fine, if it's you, then getting hurt is worth it."

Keith could only hope that those words would become true.